Ollo Marieraho Kijiln ko Heja Corra

Ollo Marieraho Kijiln ko Heja Corra

To the south of Summerfire, in the home
Where Alferia had been raised, and swore
Her vow so nearly tossed on the foam,
Mariera was making preparations for war.
Alferia had been her first strike, but she
Had long ago realized that though mortally
Alferia's blade might strike home
In the Lord, the city would require more

Time and preparation to conquer or take.
So Mariera spoke casually of the stories
Of Summerfire she had been made to forsake,
Of the safety and the peace and the glories
Of ease and comfort and wealth and pleasure.
She set her people's eyes afire with treasure
Reports and rumors, and said for their sake
They should go to the source of those stories,

For their land was wide open to constant attack
By the wild magic and its half-wild creatures.
In every battle they fought, they had to fall back,
And everyone there had graven, hardened features,
Made so by at least one loss or maiming tragic.
Mariera fanned their hatred of the wild magic,
And then hinted in Summerfire there was no lack
Of protection, awaiting only the teachers

That would give lessons to those living there,
And teach them not to hoard cruelly such gifts,
But to spread them about the land, and share.
"Why the city on the hill itself above us lifts,"
Said Mariera, her voice shaking with passion,
"I cannot fathom; in what haughty fashion
They justify the fortune to which they are heir,
I do not know; but they do not know the Rifts,

"Or those that come out of them. Must we earn
Such safety longer by our blades and our blood?
Must we weep and wail, for lost spouses yearn,
For children we cannot save be crushed in the mud?
Have we not earned more than just peace,
But from even ordinary suffering gentle release?
Must we any longer with the fires of jealousy burn?
In Summerfire they have peace from fire and flood

"Of emotions as well as of the wild magic. Let us go!
Let us carry to them with reaching hands our plea!
"But our plight they must surely already know," 
Some argued. Mariera smiled. "We shall see.
I have sent my daughter Alferia into the north
To ask of Summerfire, and see what comes forth.
And if they treat her as a dishonorable foe,
And if they answer with scorn a woman so worthy,

"Then we shall know that we have the right,
Nay the duty, for our children, to attack them."
So she spoke, and so forge fires glowed in the night,
Metaldancers weaving coils shining like gems
Into blades- for the wild magic had rent apart
In its first explosion the rudiments of smith's art,
And imposed magical blademaking with its light.
That only made the southerners the magic condemn

With louder voices, and listen to Mariera
More and more as the days swept glowing past.
Mariera paced, while overhead shone Irrimaria,
And looked into Auda-water, at this season fast
Flowing past the place where the bank bent
And she had risen long ago, from Summerfire sent
With the curse in her hair; where she had told Alferia
The truth of the lords' perfidy, and her into war cast.

Mariera would often look into the water, and think
Of the way that Alferia's violet eyes had shone
When she knelt there, on Auda-river's brink,
And made her mother's sacred purpose her own.
Mariera smiled quietly to herself one even at last,
And lifted her eyes, looking north into the past,
And to the future, then stooped for a drink.
The pain of the past at the last was flown,

Though the curse in her hair still ached and bit.
Alferia was going to make Summerfire theirs.
Mariera had pondered, but no doubt of it
Remained in her mind's well-trampled thoroughfares.
Where vengeance had long ridden all alone,
Now strong beside it another hope shone,
Having an undeniable truth to go with it:
Alferia would seduce the last of Summerfire's heirs,

And then break his heart, and make suicide
Claim the last of Summerfire's high blood, and her pain.
A soft smile came for a time to abide
On Mariera's lips. "Oh, my Lord Derlian,"
She whispered, "long have you sat there and ruled,
With your hair like fire and your eyes jeweled,
But now the last hope for your line has died.
One has come to you to make that ending plain."

Something growled behind her, and she turned,
One hand resting casually on the hilt of her sword.
Shining blue eyes in the darkness burned,
And a slowly stalking creature came forward,
A reno, shaped like a wolf with purple coat,
A snarling growl bubbling in its great throat.
Its eyes glanced at the sword it spurned.
It was a child of the wild magic, and illusion's lord.

Mariera shrugged. She cared little for such things.
She took a step forward, and around her 
Illusions sprang up like a butterfly's wings,
Glowing illusions that once would have bound her
In fear just like the reno's ordinary prey.
But her fear had died forever on a long-ago day,
And she had long held that one in whom fear sings
Is not a true warrior. A reno had found her.

What did that matter? They were images of her,
That was all, and Mariera always knew herself.
Another step, and she saw the images flicker.
She looked at them in scorn, wondering what shelf
Of its trickery the reno would open next- and halted.
This was not an image she could have faulted.
She saw herself walking in a place of summer;
As Lady of Summerfire she saw her future self,

Waving a hand, and making a royal decree.
A servant bowed to her and scuttled away.
Mariera smiled. This was what she longed to see,
And was confident she would see, someday.
The image of herself admired its face in a pool,
A face surmounted with a band bearing a red jewel.
Mariera lingered. This was what she most longed to be:
A lady whose commands no one could gainsay.

Then the image flickered, and then burned.
Mariera could hear screams from beyond the flame.
Though such omens and such fears she spurned,
She shivered; she could hear Alferia calling her name
From somewhere beyond the wall of fire.
It came to her that if she achieved her desire,
She would the world to such fire have turned,
And then Summerfire as this land would be the same:

Open and exposed to magical attack.
Mariera drew in her breath, and shook her hair,
Driving the fear and the certainty back.
Such things the wild magic would only use to scare
Her into giving up her rightful plans and designs.
But Mariera put little store in such omens and signs,
She reminded herself, and broke to black
In her mind the images both dark and fair.

The reno revealed crouching snarled at her,
Baring fangs that could rip her throat open in a beat,
Stiffening its tail and raising its neck-fur.
Mariera moved forward, light on her feet,
And opened the reno's throat with a single stroke.
The reno fell, and the burst of blood broke
Over her boots. Mariera did not move or stir,
For to see death this close was a thing sweet,

A sweetness that she could not speak of or share.
Even Alferia did not quite understand.
Mariera leaned forward to see the blood so fair
Pool beneath the fur, on her boots, on her hand.
Then she drew back, for it seemed that dark fire
Flickered in the blood, as red as hot desire.
Then she shook her head. There was nothing there.
She would not let her fear keep her from her stand,

Or her seat, someday,  upon Summerfire's throne.
The wild magic could threaten and bully and cry,
But Mariera would have Summerfire for her own,
And those who opposed her would die,
Preferably not as cleanly as the reno had done.
Mariera looked in the direction of the setting sun,
And raised a hand to the god she claimed as her own,
Dermand, the Dusk Father burning in the sky.

A dark cloud passed across the sun, and Mariera
Sighed. The wild magic vomited and hurled
Omens at her, trying to tell her that Alferia
Would not succeed, and would not change the world.
But Mariera knew the rightness and the truth
Of her course; she had known it from early youth.
Even the stormclouds now crossing Irrimaria,
Or the bolts of red lightning they hurled,

Could not convince her to turn aside or stray.
Mariera tossed her hair over her shoulder,
And made for the settlement. Too long away
She had been, and before the night could grow older
Many things she had to do: protests to settle,
Speeches to make, tests of her people's mettle
To undertake. She would rest only with day.
Her eyes narrowed; her smile grew colder.

Behind her, the stormclouds roiled,
And red lightning came lashing down to the river.
In a moment the reno's corpse was parbroiled,
And the very night seemed to split and shiver
Before the heat of the lightning, bright as Irrimaria.
The storm turned and stalked after Mariera,
While lighting in its upper curves boiled,
Rattling and singing like arrows in a quiver.

Back to Derlian and Mariera.

Or, if you like, on to the tenth canto.

Or, if you want, back to the eighth canto.