"Before" Chapter 4: Where The Rivers Meet

[Scott of Hyperborea]

"Before" or "Romance of the Three Duchies"
Chapter Four: Where The Rivers Meet
Chapter Four Soundtrack: "It's either real or it's a dream, there's nothing that is in between"

"In the beginning," began Keloudi Ly'Tecnomaezj, "the world was without form, and void. There existed only the first father and the first mother. The Treesians call them Spedomhain and Eiseamlar. The Elw call them Eluin and Lest. The Valakothin call them Elith and Ainai. But we tecnomaezji, who heard the story from those who once sat at their tables, call them by their true names, and these are Mors and Vivantia.

"These two fell in love, and were wed, invoked into existence a new world that would be a home for themselves and the children they would conceive. They called it Micras, which in the ancient tongue means "the small place", for compared to the infinite void all around it it was very small indeed. There were many lands and seas around its circumference, but the two gods chose the most beautiful and hospitable spot to be the nursery for their children, and this was the islands to the south that we call So Sara.

Of these children, you have heard before, for they have names like Los, and Lumina, and Hasan, and they are the gods you know. Some of these children had children of their own, and some of them were strong and few, and these are the lesser gods, and some of them were weak but numerous, and these were the ancestors of men. And gods and men dwelt together in So Sara, and were happy.

But after many eons had passed, Mors and Vivantia quarreled and came to love each other no more. Then the balance between life and death was disrupted, and the dead ground burst forth into living things, and living things sickened and died, and living creatures both mortal and immortal came to view death not as a complement but as an enemy. And in all the corners of the world, living creatures took the side of Life their mother, and reviled her ex-husband Mors.

But in So Sara, people remembered Mors, because they'd seen him, and they knew he was all around a decent guy, and that if he killed without mercy, it was only to clear away what was old and decrepit so that it could be reborn anew. And they blessed his name alongside that of Vivantia, and sometimes even above hers, and they taught the land to the north of them, the land of Sxiro, to do the same.

And loathed by all, Mors, the father of gods and men, was secretly glad that there was one corner of the world that worshipped him still, although he was quiet and grim and would never show his gladness. So he blessed them, and they learned the secrets of the cycle of life and death, and Mors' favorite daughter Semisa smiled on them, and with each death the people of Sxiro came closer to perfection and divine knowledge.

And when So Sara fell, and the people of Sxiro were divided and unhappy, Mors swore that he would send one of his own direct line to rule over them as their God-Emperor, and as a token, he placed in a secret spot his own sword, made from the bones of the world, and he stuck it in the ground. And from it sprang forth a river, the mighty Eluin, the heart of Sxiro.

That's the legend, at least. So obviously, it would make sense that the Landssword is in Lodermotsrik, the place where the Eluin begins. Really, someone should have figured it out earlier."

"You talk too much," said Red, who never talked at all. "The demons will hear."

We had seen no deamon fish since the incident with Quercia, even though we were now only a few dozen leagues from their capital, Cerce-upon-Dolor. Red's plan was to skirt the western side of the realm, walking the borders between demon country and the lost kingdom of Westerwood and hopefully avoiding them both.

Avoiding seemed to be our chief activity now, a week out of Crestfallen and a week into our quest for the Landssword. There were the demons, and the archers of Westerwood, of course, but I was doing a little extra bonus avoiding of my own. I was avoiding Rain. What happened between him and Quercia that night in Crestfallen had annoyed me more than I thought possible. After a few days of dealing with it in silence, I went to Pupil. Pupil had a way with people. A disquieting, unnatural way, but a way.

"No, it doesn't mean that you love him," said Pupil, "although you might come to do so. What it means is that it made you feel good about yourself, to know that you could make someone else moon and fawn over you. Now you're worried that you can't, that Quercia's prettier than you are, or better than you are, or whatever. Rain was a crutch for your self-esteem. Now that's gone. Do you know what you need? You need a nickname. Everyone! Gather round! We are giving Loritis a nickname!"

I was momentarily startled by the non sequitur, but Pupil deigned to explain.

"You're with us for the long haul now. You need to feel like you're part of our group, like we accept you. We all have nicknames. Now we give one to you. What will it be?"

Everyone was silent.

"What about...East?" asked Pupil. "Because you come from the East."

"Let me guess," I said. "You're the one who decided to call the red-haired guy 'Red'. And the guy with only one pupil 'Pupil.'"

"I call 'em like I see 'em," Pupil said.

"Sun," said Rain.

"Sun?" I asked.

"Because," said Rain. "You travelled from the far east to the far west. And when you're fighting, and waving your sword, you seem to shine."

"You know," I said, "the sun is a symbol of my people. It's on our banners and our shields. Our neighbors call us the sun-folk. Yes. Sun. I like that."

"It goes with the weather theme," said Cloud. "Cloud. Sun. Rain."

"I'll be Storm," said Quercia.

We all looked at her. "Excuse me?" I said.

"Weather theme," she protested. "And you've seen me. Anyone want to tell me I'm not a Storm."

No one volunteered. We'd seen what she did to those deamon fish.

"Storm," said Pupil. "And Sun. Even though I feel like we're some kind of weird cult now."

To be honest, I wasn't really upset, even with Quercia stealing my moment. I'd seen something in Rain, when he was giving me my nickname. The boy still liked me, even if he was taking care to avoid me at every turn. And he seemed to be growing apart from Quercia too, these past few days. It wasn't just that he didn't sleep with her again. He seemed to be actively avoiding her. To a lesser degree, avoiding everyone. I asked Cloud about it one time.

"I too am perplexed," he answered, in that tecnomaezji way of his. "I have been observing his behavior since Crestfallen, and find myself very much at a loss. I can only hope his usual character will return before we face any challenges nearer Lodermotsrik."

It was a few days after that when we reached the top of a particularly high hill and listened to Cloud tell us the story of the Landssword, as I have already related. When he was done, the fog theatrically lifted, and we gained a glimpse of three kingdoms, each rarely seen by civilized men.

To our east, the broken land of Dolor, where the black ground brought forth only enough diseased grains to feed the few pitiful slaves who still eked out survival in that demon-haunted land. In the distance, foul fumes rose from the depths, and even in daylight we could see the flames of the furnaces of Cerce, most terrible of cities.

To our west, the dense forests of Westerwood, where according to the oldest legible histories, the So Sarans had founded a colony. For centuries, there had been sporadic communication between the woodfolk and the people of Riverrun and Goldenmoon, but that had long since past, and if a kingdom of men still lived beneath those dense trees, it was utterly unknown.

And to the north, the endless lands of the Elw, the barbarians who could have easily overrun all other parts of Sxiro, demon and human alike, if they would only organize themselves. This they stubbornly refused to do, instead expending their energy in tribal warfare and cattle raids. Their only concession to ethnic unity was a legendary sacred place far to the north at the source of the West Eluin where representatives from all the tribes gathered to observe the sacred rituals of the mother goddess. The Lodermotsrik, our destination, was also supposedly sacred to the Elw, although we had reason to hope it was not currently occupied by any of them.

It was also visible, just a few leagues ahead. The Eluin river, mighty and undivided since Musica, suddenly shot out a tributary, the great West Eluin, leaving a triangle of land between the two rivers, the Lodermotsrik. It looked normal enough; a few green meadows fading into endless forests, with a small hill right at the point where the rivers split.

"We'll need to cross the river," said Red, as we descended the hill. "Be on the lookout for a ford."

Well, we went that whole day without finding one, and we camped on the banks of the East Eluin. Red, who barely slept at the best of times, volunteered to keep sentry against the threat of Elw incursions, and it was arranged for Once to relieve him after midnight. The use of the giant Elw, who was unreliable at the best of times, was a signal that Red really didn't expect any surprises that night.

The Elw, if there were any around, stayed well enough away, but I wouldn't say I got no surprises. Sometime in the middle of the night, I was woken up by the feel of a body pressed against mine. I started.

"Oh, hi," whispered Quercia. "See, I've been very attracted to you, and I noticed something got between you and Rain, and you looked like you could use some cheering up."

"Something got between me and Rain?" I whispered, in disbelief at her chutzpah but not wanting to wake up the whole camp, especially not in a compromising situation like this. "Something?"

Quercia...oh, forgive me, 'Storm', just smiled. "He's a nice boy," she said, "but you're older, and more experienced, and prettier. And I like women better anyway, to be honest."

"You are a sick, sick woman," I started to say before Quercia jammed her tongue into my open mouth and started to kiss me. Gods save me from saying so, but she was a good kisser. I pushed her away, but not very hard.

"You want me to beg?" asked Quercia. "I can do begging."

"Go away," I whispered, "or I WILL wake Red and Pupil, gods strike me down if I lie."

Quercia 'Storm' Ly'Maezjuser snorted and walked away, back in the direction of her own blankets. I stared at the sky for a few minutes in disbelief at what had just happened, and then fell asleep. In the morning, I was more or less ready to dismiss it as a particularly perverted dream.

The morning was more subdued. We ate breakfast around a campfire; even though spring was well begun here, it was still frosty this far north. Red reported that the night had been all clear, and reiterated his desire to find a ford, so off we went.

We reached a spot to Red's liking a bit before midday. The East Eluin was a wide river, but at one point a collection of logs and debris led about halfway across it, and he figured we could wade or swim the rest if we left most of our gear behind. So we hid our stuff beneath a pile of branches and tried our luck on the logs. First Red, then Pupil, then myself, followed by Quercia, Cloud, Rain, and Once bringing up the rear.

My balance was good, and I made it across the logs without much difficulty. There I saw Red and Pupil already in the water, half wading and half swimming to the other bank, the promised Lodermotsrik. I plunged into the icy Eluin water and began dogpaddling to the other bank.

It was a sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. I say this not for superfluous description, but to convey the full import of my shock when, lifting my head from the water to breathe for an instant, I saw it had suddenly grown stormy, the sky full of black clouds. In an instant, a pouring rain began to fall. I heard Rain shout out as he lost his balance on the now-slippery logs and went plunging into the river. I think Cloud dived in after him, but I'm not sure. Now I was using all my strength just to resist the current, which had increased a hundredfold as the river became swollen with floodwaters. In what couldn't have been even a minute since I stepped off the logs on a beautiful sunny day, my strength gave out, and I rushed downriver.

After a few seconds submerged beneath the whitewater, I got my head up, gasped for air, and began heading for the nearest land - which I thought, without any certainty, was the Lodersmotrik side. It was no use. I was powerless to resist the current, which toyed with me a few more times before slamming me onto a rock. I blacked out.

When I awoke, it was twilight, and I was alone on a rocky riverside. "Red!" I shouted. "Pupil?" "Rain?". But none of the others responded. I looked around. Judging from the direction of the river flow - which was now down to normal, underneath a mockingly cloudless sky - I was in Lodermotsrik. To my left were rocky meadows, to my right the huge and endless Eluin Forest.

And when I turned around to look behind me, I saw the city of Airosamente.

A few things clicked with the vision of my hometown. That hadn't been the Eluin River at all. It had been the friendly Antya, which washed the shores of Audentija. I wasn't in Sxiro, a legendary land of whose very existence I was uncertain - I was at home, and my family was expecting me. With a happy tune on my tongue, I strolled into Airosamente.

The streets were filled with noisy people. I thought that the whole population of the city must be outside, something I'd never seen before. They were all grey and ghostlike, and dressed in identical grey robes. One of them grabbed me. "Have you heard?" she asked.

"Heard of what?" I responded.

She ignored me and continued on. A little child grabbed me. "Have you heard?" he asked. I bent down to question him, but in the space of an eyeblink he disappeared. His father tapped me on the back as I rose. "Have you heard?" he asked. The cacophony of the crowd began to resolve itself into identifiable words. "Have you heard?" they were all asking.

I ran down Provost's Street to the Atlantis District, hoping the vision would begin to abate outside city center. It did not. "Have you heard?" the apartment dwellers of Atlantea shouted down at me from their windows. "Have you heeeeard?" screamed a man as he fell from his top floor apartment to crash on the street just a few feet from me. "Have you heard?" he whispered with his dying breath, before he went silent.

I came to my parents' house. The door was open, and I let myself in. My parents were sitting at the dinner table, eating the hideous rotting body of a deamon fish. Sar'Tos sat at the head of the table as the guest of honor, and was cutting the fish's body with the Landssword.

"Give me that," I told him.

"Have you heard?" asked my mother.

"Heard of what?" I asked her.

"Have you heard of the girl who sailed across the sea and left her parents to die?" asked my mother.

"Have you heard of the woman who thought she could come into the holy place of Lodermotsrik, and take the Landssword, the ultimate symbol of Mors and the men of Sxiro, when she had no Sxirothe blood and worshipped foreign gods?" asked my father.

"Herd of moose," said Sar'Tos.

Then a herd of moose crashed through the door, trampling the three of them and their gruesome feast. I ran from the stampede as fast as I could, ran out the door and onto an arid plain of rolling grass, which I somehow knew to be the southern reaches of Riverrun, where I had never been. A few nomads in yurts watched my desperate flight through the balmy twilight with indifference. "Have you heard?" shouted one of them.

I was winded; there was no way I could escape the stampeding moose any longer. With a mighty vault, I jumped onto the back of one of the moose and held on to the antlers for dear life. Duke Alasu of Musica was riding the moose to my right, and Sent, the man I had killed, was on my left. Sent had the Landssword. "Have you heard?" he asked me.

"Heard of what?" I asked him, with the peculiar logic of a dream.

"Heard of the girl who killed me and took my friends, my job, and my chance at the Landssword," said Sent.

"Horde of barbarians," said Duke Alasu, and my moose suddenly bellowed in pain and collapsed to the ground, dead. He was the only moose in sight, and I was sitting in a valley surrounded on all sides by towering icy mountains. The valley itself was green and beautiful, and in front of me was a spring, from which a tiny stream trickled forth.

Standing behind me, in worship of the source of the Eluin, were whole seas of Elw, all fair and big-muscled like Once. Elw men, Elw women, even little blond-haired Elw children. One of them raised his head from the prostrate position, and spotted me. "Have you heard?" he asked, in the guttural language of his people that I somehow found myself understanding.

At his voice, all the other Elw opened their eyes and raised their very imposing weapons. They began to rush at me, a crazy berserker rush, and I ran as fast as I could. I ran from the valley into the forests all around, startling a deer as it crossed my path. "Have you heard?" it asked me.

The Elw were gaining on me now, I was sure of it. I reached the side of the mountains, a sheer cliff face. There was a little cave, just large enough for me to fit inside, and I climbed in. The darkness was absolute. After a few minutes the shouting of the Elw died down, but I could no longer find my way out. Every direction seemed to lead deeper into the cavern. I stepped in a puddle of freezing water, disturbing something wet and floppy.

"Have you heard?" asked a phosphorescent cave fish, as it blinked into brilliance and then disappeared, leaving me in darkness once again.

A point of light appeared in the distance, first very faint, then growing closer. It resolved into a man carrying a torch and a tablet. He sat down on the cave floor next to me, and motioned for me to do the same.

"Death spare you," he said in the voice of a very old man, and now that I looked at him closer I saw that he owned a snow-white beard that stretched almost to his ankles. "I don't get many visitors, though perhaps more than usual these days. What are you doing here?"

"I...I was looking for the Landssword," I said. "But then I got lost."

"Oh, yes," said the man. "That'll happen if you get too close to Lodermotsrik. It's the place where fates converge, you know. And it's got a fate of its own, and it's sleeping until it's ready for it. The place is actually sleeping! Now, you might ask, how can a place sleep, and I'd answer, well, how should I know? I'm just Brrapa Lu Eraro, not some sort of prophet or something."

"I was told that you were a prophet," I said.

"Oh! Well, in that case, behold, for I tell of things yet to come, great events that shall live in legend for ten thousand years! At midday on the thirteenth day of Agnifiero, this very year, the God-Emperor of all Sxiro shall reveal himself to the world upon the Hill of Destiny outside Riverrun City. He shall hold aloft the Landssword, and all in attendance will see his glory and acknowledge him as ruler of Sxiro with a great cry. And when his enemies rise against him, the very air will take the form of those who love him, and vanquish the evildoers. And what was divided shall become one, and the Empire of Sxiro shall live forever in glory.”

“Lodermotsrik,” I said. “We were talking about Lodermotsrik.”

“Oh! Right! The place is sleeping because its destiny is so strong that it bends time. That's why I put the Landssword there, I figured I could keep it away from anyone who wasn't destined enough."

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't know you had to have some kind of special destiny to get the sword."

"I asked if you had heard," said Brrapa, "but you wouldn't answer. A simple 'no' would have sufficed. But I'm afraid your fates might have converged a little while I was asking. They can do that, y'know. This is the place where fates converge, did I mention that?"

"I think you did," I told him. "Anyway, I'd really like to have the Landssword. My friends are counting on me to get it, and I've been told they need it for some important prophecy that will unite the lands, and if I get it, I might get enough money to make my way home. Is there any way to become, you know, more destined?"

"I sell destinies," said Brrapa, "ten erb a pint, discount for the ladies. And if you want my opinion, I'd say you need some destinies, and fast. So here you are, pining for a homeland you'll never make it back to, blowing off all these nice people who want to have sex with you, and generally fuming that you're stuck in the swamps of Lodermotsrik. Slimy? Mudhole? My home this is! You're worried you've let everyone at home down, you're worried that you're becoming nothing more than another bandit, and you're worried that you're not worried enough about these things, does that about cut it?

“Okay then, here's a destiny free, just for you. Protect your new friends. The prophet said it, so it's got to be true, that's the way these things work, isn't it? Yes, I know, you're protecting them already, but only out of habit. Stop the whole "separate and apart" bit. Become one with Sxiro. Protect your friends not because you have to, but because it's your mission. Control your destiny. They'll make a game called that, you know, couple thousand years from now. It'll be way nifty. I wish I could say more, but I'm pretty sure the way this vision goes I've got to transform into a deamon fish of Balgurd or something."

"Wha-?" I asked, and then the prophet's skin melted away down to the skull, and with a great wrenching sound his spine snapped into a new position and there was a horrible Deamon Fish of Balgurd in front of me, all aflame and roaring. I ran blindly through the cave, the fish swimming after me at every turn, until I tripped and fell into a chasm. A frigid underground river broke my fall, and for the second time today I was caught in the current, rushing forward to some death I could only imagine, likely blunt head trauma from being flung into a cavern wall.

Then there was sudden light, not the twilight that had followed me from Airosamente to the source of the Eluin, but the sunlight of midday, the light I hadn't seen since stepping off the log bridge on the ford. I found a hidden reserve of strength, and swam against the current onto the banks of the river, gasping for air. And there, beside me, were the others. Red, Pupil, Cloud, Rain, Once, even Quercia, dripping wet, coughing up river water.

"I think I...speak for all of us when...I say what...the...HELL," said Quercia Ly'Maezjuser, between freezing gasps.

"I want to talk," said Red, which was maybe the strangest thing that had happened all day, "but...in no condition...now. Everyone...take the day off. Sleep. Tomorrow...we compare...information...and figure out how to...get...that damn Landssword."

He couldn't have said otherwise. Between cold and exhaustion, I couldn't have moved a muscle, and from the looks of it the rest of the party felt the same way. Red, dripping wet, fetched our blankets - we had washed up only a few meters away from where the gear was stashed! - and we all huddled underneath them and dreamt of not being crazy.

I woke up around sunset, not feeling at all ready to abandon sleep. Huddled next to me was Quercia Ly'Maezjuser. "I thought," she said, "I thought you looked cold, and I was cold, and I feel strange, and I need company." She kissed me again, and for some reason I was in no mood to resist.

Under warm quilts, huddled against a warm body, I slept the evening and the whole night through.