I. Disquieting Disappearances of Some Deities
Things were definitely not correct in Elrinster. The
gods did not answer when invoked, nor did any devil have the civility to appear
when conjured. The priests and magicians both made their separate complaints to
the divinely appointed Gorsach of Elrinster, but the Beloved of Heaven was as
baffled as the lowest hedge wizard in his kingdom.
"The gods are silent," moaned the priests.
"The oracles are mute, no message can be determined by the cast of stones
or the flight of birds; any amount of human blood merely stains the altar or
befouls the floor. Do you help us, Favored of Lords!"
"The demons are gone," the magicians
whined, in a somewhat less public interview. "The crystals are clouded,
and all meaning has left the cards. No pentacles, nor any amount of
incantation, can draw even the smallest imp forth. Do you aid us, Commander of
Devils!"
The divinely appointed Gorsach, whose communications
with Heaven were rather one-sided affairs (he praying, the gods presumedly
listening), and whose power over devils was limited to charms given him by the
priests, wisely nodded his head and said nothing to either embassy.
And so the priests and wizards left, rather uneasily,
with this vague reassurance. But, even with the concerned attention of the
Grand Gorsach, things went from bad to worse. Soon even the little spells, and
the little comforters of life, failed or disappeared.
Pregnant women stayed fat and sickly because the
stork never arrived, and people continued insomniac through the nights, waiting
for the sandman. Even the bogeyman failed to carry away several enterprising
boys who had stayed out late in defiance of parental dictates. These imbalances
caused the people to grumble, and eventually an envoy was sent to the Gorsach.
The Gorsach, wisely, said nothing.
And so it went on, and then things began to be
whispered about the disreputable mausoleum on the outskirts of the city,
wherein lived Morlakar Shyreen, a reputed sorceror, who, as yet, had made no
complaint.
II. Mysterious Magics of Morlakor
This dreadful potentate lived in numinous estate, let
it be repeated, in an abandoned mausoleum on a high hill on the outskirts of
Elrinster. The slopes directly below his dwelling were strewn with tombs and
dark yew trees, and even in the brightest of sunlight the hill seemed to be
deep in shadow. An iron gate ran all around the foot of the hill, to keep
unwary adventurers out and the restless dead in.
As has been said, rumors began to circulate about
this Morlakor and his doubtful dwelling. Belated travellers reported that odd,
shining persons were passing up the cobbled path to Morlakor's door, and that
pale ghosts still walked slowly in Morlakor's garden. So it seemed, to
discerning persons, that the hill of this seldom-seen wizard was the last
outpost of any magical activity whatsoever.
To which assertion, of course, both priests and
magicians disagreed. The gods, the priests contended, were disgusted at recent
disbelief among the people and had withdrawn, while the magicians claimed the
demons were all off attacking the moon, and would soon return with plunder for
those faithful during their absence. Of course, the priests hastily added,
heavenly rewards awaited those who obeyed the priests and offered sacrifice for
the gods' forgiveness.
And so these went on, discounting the idea that
Morlakor now had the approval, company, and blessing of all gods and demons, as
was generally held by most discerning persons.
Indeed most inhabitants of the city would go at dusk
and wait as near as they dared, to see these shining persons as they passed on
to Morlakor Shyreen's house. The priests and magicians execrated and confuted
the wisdom of watching these processions, and they spoke of the unutterable and
blasting sin that such watching was, and foretold the horrible and inescapable
dooms that would come to those thus gazing on beings that were surely mere
phantoms devised by Morlakor to mislead the faithful.
Then they disguised themselves as peasants, and went
thus to to witness the gods and demons proceeding on their way to the house of
Morlakor Shyreen.
So it was that on the sixty-sixth day of the crisis
the priest Bolorhayn and the magician Jorg received a message from a passing
god, that caused a little hope and much cogitation.
III. Subsequent Search for a Savior
This message, or rather, as Bolorhayn righteously put
it, this revelation, placed an entirely new face on the matter. It was duly
relayed to the Grand Gorsach, who received it with pious exclamations and no
little relief.
Granted, that some of the particulars of the
redemption of all the gods and devils were a trifle stringent. After all,
children born of virgins were rare enough to come by, but to find one that was
male, born at the spring equinox, and come at least to manhood, was, as even
the priests and magicians agreed, almost impossible.
"Nevertheless, such a person must be
found," proclaimed the Gorsach, who had a happy gift for recognizing the
subtly hidden.
And so a quest and a reward were announced, and the
Gorsach's heralds and ambassadors descended on the land like a plague of
locusts, scouring the countryside for the needed man.
Finally, at a little village on the far rim of the
Gorsach's realm, a herald was benighted along the highway, and had to perforce
seek shelter in a crude hut some way off the path. Inside he met a humble
woodcutter, of perhaps twenty years of age, who invited him to remain the
night.
In return for this kindness, the herald modestly
proclaimed his purpose and position as a duke (a slight exaggeration) on a
mission for the Gorsach. After a little coarse wine and a rough but hearty
meal, he even disclosed that he sought a man, and of what sort.
"Now that is odd," remarked the woodcutter
thoughtfully. "For my mother always averred that I had no human father,
and certainly, my birthday is in the spring."
The herald, a substantial man and of about
middle-age, choked, and nearly expired in a fit of surprise. As soon as he
recovered, however, he plied the youth with questions.
It seems that his mother had been visited by an
apparition by night, and nine months later had been delivered of a son. Such
escapades, of course, upset the neighbors, who promptly stoned her as a harlot,
and took the boy away to be raised in the most polite and civil atmosphere
available.
So it was that the youth Doravor had grown up to be a
woodcutter.
Notes
Now this little fragment goes straight back to my Junior days in high school. I had just discovered the work of James Branch Cabell, in the Del Rey editions, and was rather besotted with his writing style. I had to try it out. The result was ... difficult and indifferent, and I never completed the tale. Morlakor Shyreen (whose name echoes Cabell's figure of Miramon Lluagor, and which name would later go on to be appropriated for the omnipotent being in the Ortha/Goldfire/Morg stories) would be revealed to be the ultimate power in this universe, with Doravor to take his place as his begotten son before he moved on to another venture. For this to happen Doravor would have to slay Morlakor's incarnate self, so becoming the God of his world. Thus I tried to work out a 'mythic' tale, while turning my hand to some 'Cabellic' irony. I would not try this style again until The Gods in Flight, which see elsewhere in this blog.
