Blackberry Winter

We only had three mini-winters on Planet Georgia this year, although they were pretty harsh. In mid-spring, we get a cold snap they like to call “Blackberry Winter,” because it usually happens around the time the blackberry vines are blooming. The fun thing is, blackberries blossom for two or three weeks, so there’s plenty of time for one (or more) to happen.

So last week, it got cool. “Maybe this is all the blackberry winter we get,” said the wife. “But they need some cold to bloom out, I thought.”

“They’ve been blooming out for a week in some places,” I pointed out.

But this weekend had to be it. The lows got to 40F, and it was cloudy and rainy. The rain is gone, but the cool weather remains. After a taste of nice May weather the week before, this was a bit of a letdown. But with any luck, that’s the last of the cool/cold weather until late October.

The vines are already setting fruit. Looks like Mason will have a great time picking come July 4th weekend. The wild lowbush blueberries should be ripe in the next couple weeks as well.

Launch: “Inquisitor” by R.J. Blain

Say hello to +R.J. Blain, an American expat living in that exotic land called Canada. You could say (I do) that she’s one of the class acts among indie authors. When she’s not working on her own books, she’s editing for other people. She puts plenty of effort (and money) into making sure her books have top-notch editing and covers as well.

Today, R.J. is celebrating not only her birthday, but the official launch of her new book, Inquisitor. When she put out a call for bloggers to help, I raised my hand. She sent plenty of support material along, and I get to share it with you:

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When Allison is asked to play Cinderella-turned-Fiancee at a Halloween ball, the last thing she expected was to be accused of murder on the same night. She has to find the killer and quick, or she’ll be put to death for the crimes she didn’t commit. To make matters worse, the victims are all werewolves.

On the short list of potential victims, Allison has to act fast, or the killer will have one more body to add to his little black book of corpses.

There’s only one problem: One of the deaths has struck too close to home, and Allison’s desire for self-preservation may very well transform into a quest for vengeance…

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OK, blurb isn’t enough? How about an excerpt?

Caroline was either the best actress I’d ever seen, or she was really dead. I crouched next to her, torn between touching her neck to feel for a pulse and running away before the sweet scent of a fresh kill overwhelmed my restraint.

A clock chimed ten. The power of the full moon slammed into me, tugging at my heart, and tightening my chest. The need to embrace my inner beast and become one with the night quickened my breath.

Scents flooded my nose. Strong perfumes mingled with cologne, and the sweat of hot, living bodies stirred my hunger. I licked my lips, and for one brief moment, imagined the salty sweetness of fresh blood on my tongue.

There was another hunter in the room with me, and they taunted me with their kill. Their prey was either dead or left to die. It was a challenge to the scavengers, to the hunters, and a warning to the prey.

“What do you think?” Mark’s mother asked.

“I think she’s an amazing actress,” I replied, careful to keep my tone light. I rose to my feet. If I grew a tail, I could only hope my gown would hide it long enough for me to slip from the party and find a place to gain control over myself.

Or complete the change and go on a rampage.

Another minute passed in silence. I shook my head. “This would be why I’m not a police officer.”

The Wicked Witch of the West giggled. I shivered at the sound. “I see. Very well, Cinderella. Shall we mingle with the other guests and learn about this terrible, terrible deed?”

“I thought this was when Mark was supposed to come rescue me from a fate worse than death,” I muttered.

Oops. So much for keeping civil. I guess it was inevitable. Bodies brought out the worst in me. Especially when the body wasn’t one of my making. To make matters worse, I couldn’t exactly raise the alarm.

If I did, I’d reveal to those who knew the truth about werewolves and witches that I wasn’t just some human girl after a wealthy boy. Then the Inquisition would find silver old enough to kill me or reduce me to ashes to make certain they purged the world of one more rogue werewolf.

“Why can’t you be wealthy?” Mrs. Livingston lamented.

The old woman’s question caught me by surprise. Had she heard me? Did she think it an amusing quip?

Was it possible the woman actually liked me? Confused at the question, I answered honestly. “Ma’am, who says I’m not? I’m your son’s accountant. Do you really think he’d trust someone who didn’t have access to at least some money with his money?” I glared at the old woman. At least the brewing fight between us distracted me from Caroline’s body a little. “Don’t forget I know exactly how much he makes a year, where he transfers his funds, who owes him how much, and whom he owes. I know how much he’s paid in taxes, and I know how much I saved him last tax season.”

The witch’s mouth dropped open. “Just what—”

“I paid more in taxes than he did last year. I’ll let you do the math. Unless, of course, he learned how to count from you.” I pivoted on a heel and stalked my way towards the refreshment stand.

Now, where were we? Oh yes. How about a bio?

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession*, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

When she isn't playing pretend, she likes to think she’s a cartographer and a sumi-e painter. In reality, she herds cats and a husband, and obeys the commands of Tsu Dhi, the great warrior fish.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Should that fail, her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.

*If you follow her on Google+ for any length of time, you’ll see that’s true. —LK

And don't forget to check out her book on Amazon…

Writing Wibbles

Woohoo! The words are flowing, and of course I need to get some edits cranked in. Oh well.

+Tony Noland tagged me in the Writing Process blog hop, in which you answer a few questions. Turns out I did this a couple months ago, but completely forgot. But I figured since I needed a Writing Wibbles topic, this was ready-made. Answers can change from time to time, right? So here they are:



1. What am I working on?

Good timing. This week, I just finished two stories that have been hanging around and waiting for me to get back to them. They suddenly turned into Shiny Writing Things and demanded all the attentions.

The first, Marginalia, is a side-story in the Accidental Sorcerers timeline, starring Mik’s friend Charn. The Prince has all the sorcerers up at the palace, leaving the apprentices stuck with minimal guidance. A new girl apprentice is distracting Charn, and someone is writing cryptic messages in his book. Something strange is going on, and Charn’s caught in the middle. Currently 13,600 words. (There’s an allusion to this story in The Sorcerer’s Daughter, if you’re curious.)

The second, The Magic App Store, is a sequel to The Crossover. The Trickster has touched Annie, and she recruits Chelinn and his Earthly apprentice Chuck to help her build a website that sells magic spells. This leads to widespread abuse of magic, and a problem that requires Chelinn and all his new friends to put right. (And it’s not a shadowy government agency trying to get all the magic for themselves, although they’re there, too.) Currently 17,000 words.

With those out of the way, I can get back to focusing on the primary stuff. The edits for Into the Icebound are done, and I need to finish cranking those in. I’ll soon be working on the next story in the series, tentatively called Lost in Nightwalk.


2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

These aren’t 140,000 word epic fantasies, although the first four Accidental Sorcerers books run close to that put together. I write novelettes and novellas, 45,000 words or less, that you can read on your phone.


3. Why do I write what I do?

I’ve always enjoyed fantasy worlds. Like Annie in The Magic App Store, I always wanted to have magical abilities myself. Creating words and writing stories is kind of like magic, though!


4. How does my writing process work?

I sit at the keyboard. The keyboard might be attached to my tablet if I’m mobile, or my desktop if I’m at home. I start pounding. Words come out. Sometimes they’re not all that good, in which case I stomp them and keep writing. Yes, I edit as I go. But I’ll do a complete edit after I finish, before sending it to beta writers. I also have to prod the cover designer (part of the co-op) and the editor (not part of the co-op) to work their own particular magic.

The closest thing I get to an outline is a list of notes in Scrivener: this happens, this happens, this happens. I’m not always sure how it’s going to end before I begin, which means that sometimes I keep writing because I want to know how it ends. This can lead to interesting additions to the notes, like what I had at the end of Marginalia for the longest time:

Then what?
Profit!
The End. :-P

For production, I live by my checklists. I will forget something critical without them. So much not-writing stuff to think about.

Par for the Curse (#FridayFlash)

We now return you to the regularly-scheduled weirdness…

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Stan nudged Cal, sitting next to him in the golf cart. “Ten bucks says Ricky sinks this putt.”

Cal turned to gape at his friend. “You’re serious? That’s a forty-footer if it’s an inch!” he rasped.

“Yup. So. We got a bet?”

“Easiest ten bucks ever. You’re on.”

They shook, and turned to watch Ricky, squatting on the green to check the slope. Cal thought nothing of that—Ricky was shooting for par, and even the most unlikely par putt demanded careful preparation. Their friend lined up, looked at the pin again, then shifted his feet ever so slightly. Ricky looked up one last time, then swung the putter with more follow-through than usual.

Ricky’s ball arced up the slope, then arced back. “Damn,” Cal whispered, “it’s gonna be close—holy shit!” The ball caught the rim of the hole, followed it halfway around, then fell in.

“That’ll be ten dollars,” said Stan, with a grin.

“Hell,” said Cal, fishing a pair of fives out of his wallet, “it was worth it to see someone sink that!” He ambled over to Ricky’s cart. “Awesome putt, Ricky.”

Ricky was not as elated as one might expect, having just hit a nearly impossible putt to make par. “Thanks,” he said, and dropped his putter into his bag. He looked at Cal, and put on a smile. “How much did Stan take you for on that one?”

Cal laughed. “Ten bucks. But like I told him, it was worth it. If we were in a tournament, that would be the shot they’d show on all the sports newscasts.” Cal made a minute more of small talk, then rejoined Stan in their cart. The electric motors whined as the carts climbed and coasted the slopes to the second hole.

“You knew he’d sink that,” said Cal.

“Ricky always makes par,” Stan said, watching the cart ahead. “Unless he slices a tee shot or something.”

“He didn’t seem too happy about it.”

“I never got a straight answer out of him. If you want to ride with him, go ahead. If he doesn’t tell you a line of crap, I’ll give you your ten bucks back.”


The next hole was a par three. Ricky’s tee shot was awesome, flying straight and true, landing on the green not two feet from the pin.

“That’s a birdie for sure,” Cal murmured.

“Ten bucks says he misses,” said Stan.

Cal opened his mouth. “No bet,” he replied. “I don’t know why, but you know something.”

Stan shook his head. “All I know is, he’ll miss this shot.”

Sure enough, Ricky’s putt caught a piece of debris that none of them had seen, and his ball stopped two inches short of the hole. His string of profanity had a resigned tone to it, though. All three of them made par on this hole.

Curiosity got the better of Cal, and he ambled over to Ricky’s cart with a beer in each hand. “Hey,” he said, “want some company?”

“Sure.” Ricky took the beer, and Cal took the shotgun seat. The carts whined and whirred on their way to Eleven; a faint smell of ozone from the electric motors wafted past.

“What’s the deal?” Cal asked. “You sunk that forty-footer, and then… hell, if you’d asked for a gimme on that last hole, I’d have given it to you.”

Ricky sighed. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m cursed.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. It happened at Glenoak, last year. I sliced into the brush, but not too far. There was this sapling in the way, and I pushed it over and stomped it to keep it down. Then this girl steps out from… from behind this big oak tree behind me, and asks me why I abused her tree. I told her I needed it out of the way to get onto the green; I figured I could at least make par. Then she goes, ‘you will par any hole where possible, but no better,’ and walks into the tree. Into it, man, I swear. I looked for her all around that place, but she was gone. And that’s how it’s been ever since.”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I know. Sounds nuts.” Ricky chugged his beer. “But I swear by the hops in this beer, it’s true.”

As Ricky teed up at Eleven, Stan nudged Cal. “He tell you anything?”

“Yeah,” Cal whispered. “And I think he believes it. But you won’t.”

“The curse? Yeah. Ricky’s a great guy, but I think he’s a little nuts. You can have your ten bucks back, anyway.”

“Fine. But I’m buying the first round at the Nineteenth.”

They watched Ricky make par at Eleven, and all but one of the rest. Cal watched and wondered. If I land in the woods at Glenoak, he thought, I’ll just take the penalty.

Z is for: Zharcon the White (#AtoZchallenge)

Whew!

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Zharcon the White is the leader of the Westmarch Conclave, and the mentor for Mik’s friend Charn sim Bas.

Accidental Sorcerers does not record it, but Zharcon met Bailar the Blue at the annual Gathering of the Conclave, through their apprentices Mik and Charn (who quickly became friends). The two sorcerers soon began a Conclave Romance, a temporary liaison that is common at the Gathering. In cities like Westmarch, many local sorcerers are at least distantly related to each other; thus, sorcerers will marry non-sorcerous folk (as did Charn’s father) or carry on temporary relationships with sorcerers from far away. The Conclave encourages the latter, as it is the most reliable way of finding children with Talent; it is considered an honor for a sorceress to bear children. (Some members of the Conclave are a little overzealous about such, and have urged Bailar to encourage his apprentices to mate as soon as possible regardless of how it might impact Sura’s studies… as you might expect, Bailar responded with strong words.)

At home, Zharcon has a delicate position. The Conclave is the only remaining vestige of Camac’s culture that still assumes absolute gender equality. Westmarch (known as Westmark in the time of Camac That Was) was re-settled after a rebellion was put down early in the Matriarchy’s history; the losers chose exile and founded their own nation. Thus, Westmarch is nearly as patriarchal as Stolevan is matriarchal, and their government has a hard time accepting a woman in charge of such an important organization.

On the other hand, the Conclave (since The Treaty was ratified) developed a policy of serving the greater good of all Termag above national or local loyalties. The Westmarch sorcerers are less than enthusiastic about Prince Nalfur’s expansionist ambitions; they were glad to see the winter campaign against Stolevan thwarted, and even happier that the Mik had technically not violated The Treaty in doing so. For Zharcon, the refusal of Westmarch’s government to take her seriously as a leader diminishes any nationalist feeling among the sorcerers. It’s not that they are disloyal to Westmarch; both Zharcon and the other sorcerers do think a strong but peaceful Westmarch would be a better counter to any potential Stolevan expansionism, and work toward that end.

Y is for: Yes (ways to say it) (#AtoZchallenge)

This post is really about dialects and idioms. Although Camac’s empire is long past, the language that it spread across the world either replaced local languages or is kept as a trade language. Still, over centuries, local dialects and idioms have developed. In my Termag stories, the way that people say “yes” is perhaps the most obvious example. In the southern nations, the Stolevan Matriarchy and the Alliance cities, urban and educated rural folk say “indeed” (although “yes” is used to mean “it will be done”); rural folk use “yar.” Northerners say “aye,” and Easterners say “yes” (or “oh, yes” for strong agreement).

Rural folk often use Low Speech (or Old Speech among scholars), a form of the Western tongue that was likely spoken through The Lost Years. The distinguishing feature of Low Speech is that speakers put the verb phrase at the end of their sentences. There are plenty of examples in Water and Chaos, as Mik’s aunt (and to a lesser extent, his father) both use Low Speech. Some folk, including those who speak Low Speech, consider it a mark of ignorance and are embarrassed to use it among more educated folk.

Idioms

Idioms can be a challenge (and fun as well) for writers. Done right, they convey the meaning without too much explanation, while emphasizing the “you’re not at home” feeling. Common idioms in Termag’s Western tongue include:

• Peace and harmony: a formal greeting, once a way to offer a temporary truce to an enemy. “All peace unto you” is the expected response (and the old way of accepting the offer of truce).
• Longest journey: a euphemism for death, taken from a line of an epic poem: “I will soon begin the longest journey, the one from which there is no return.” (The poem in question survives only in fragments.)
• Lucky man’s supper: fish, leeks, potatoes. Used mostly in the rural parts of the Matriarchy. This may refer to a “lucky man” bringing home both fish and leeks from the river, saving money that otherwise would have been spent at the market. (Most rural folk have a potato patch.)
• Making the wind: idle chatter, like we might say “shooting the breeze.”
• The tide comes in, the tide goes out: acknowledging that events are beyond one’s control. Similar to “what will be, will be,” or “roll with the changes.”

Next: Z is for: Zharcon the White

X is for: Xorsecc (#AtoZchallenge)

This was actually a place (with a name) before I started the Challenge. It’s the ancient town in Water and Chaos.

Xorsecc is one of the larger settlements (these days, calling it a “city” is stretching) on the Spine of the World, a chain of long mountainous islands in the Western Sea. The narrow passages between the islands are logical spots for a town, and Xorsecc is situated just south of the northernmost passage; this passage is the most direct route from Port Joy to the Archipelago (a chain of islands farther south and west). Mik’s first impression of Xorsecc is recorded in Water and Chaos:

Mik looked around the town. Everything about it said old. The stone buildings seemed to shrink into the hillsides, or sag with exhaustion. Clumps of grass grew here and there, but Mik saw no trees. The streets were flagstone, kept up as well as any street in Exidy or even Queensport.

The name is a holdover from the most ancient of Termag’s languages. The X is pronounced with a tongue click, and the cc at the end with a throat click. These sounds are not present in modern Western, and so Mik can only approximate the pronunciation as “Chakorsect.”

The Spine is perhaps the longest continuously settled part of Termag. Like everywhere else, it was hit hard in The Madness, but (as in the Alliance cities) the survivors were able to keep order. Even then, the people were at least partially Westernized. Only vestiges of the ancient tongues spoken there, or native cultural practices, remain. There is no central government on the Spine; each town manages its own affairs. Freeholder farms may or may not be under the jurisdiction of a particular town.

The Spine has no trees (mostly grass, reeds, and scrub). However, they mine a black rock called firestone that burns hotter than wood. The smoke ruins food, so they cook on top of their fireboxes.

The steep hillsides are suitable for raising goats; crops cover what flat spaces there may be. Even without trees, the denizens of the Spine build small boats; they are usually wicker frames with oilcloth or goatskins stretched over them. Others are essentially large copper bowls, and a few are even made of glass. These little coracles are the foundation of the Spine’s fishing fleet.

Xorsecc’s residents earn their living by fishing, farming, making minor repairs to passing ships, and renting houses to travelers. There are more houses than people in town, so property is cheap to either rent or purchase. Raiders and the like often have houses in Xorsecc, either as convenient quarters between jobs or as hideouts. There is little love lost between the permanent residents and these temporary denizens.

Next: Y is for: Yes (ways to say it)

W is for: Woldland (#AtoZchallenge)

Woldland lies on the eastern side of the Gulf of Camac, a vast grassland of plains and rolling hills. The inhabitants, the Wolds, are a semi-nomadic people who herd cattle across the lands. The coastal town of Mastil serves as both a capital and a market.

Origins

In the time of Camac That Was, Woldland was divided into East Bay and Perinia provinces. Away from the coast, the land was divided into cattle ranches that provided beef to the entire empire.

The Madness, for whatever reason, did not hit the Eastern provinces as hard. On the other hand, Eastern farmers have always had difficulty in the dry weather off the coast, and mad souls destroyed many of the crops. Thus, while survivors in the West and North had no trouble feeding themselves, Easterners faced starvation (exacerbated by nascent “lords” who had little regard for the welfare of their subjects).

Before The Madness, the Eastern word wol’it (literally, a sense that anything would be better than the present circumstances) was used ironically or humorously. People would apply it to themselves (similar to how we might say “just shoot me”), or mockingly to others who were seen to overreact to minor setbacks (“drama queen”). But in the early part of The Lost Years, Easterners began to use it seriously. Westerners often pronounced the word as woldt, and it softened over time to wold and became the name of the people who migrated to the grasslands.

Meanwhile, the cattle lived on. As they broke down fences, and nobody came to repair them, they began to roam freely. Jira the White, in an attempt to alleviate the suffering (even though all the Eastern provinces had declared independence), sent word that the cattle were there for the herding (or eating). Starving Easterners began to make their way south, and over time were joined by Western and a few Northern folk.

Age of Heroes

Within a generation, the old province names were all but forgotten; the region was simply called the Wold Lands. The Wolds’ language was primarily Eastern, but mixed with Western and became its own language over time.

During this time, the Wolds were nomadic; they drove the herds north in spring and south in fall. They adapted a maze of sea caves on the northern coast as a summer home, and named it Tirfa-Wold (literally, Wolds’ summer dwelling). A large forest clearing, not far from Armyr (one of the Alliance cities), became Sufta-Wold (Wolds’ winter dwelling). These were the primary points of contact with the outside world for the Wolds; they traded cattle and exchanged news with nearby folk.

Modern Woldland

With Termag once again becoming more civilized, the Wolds found themselves needing to formalize a government, if only to have a way to communicate with other governments. Internally, each drive-clan manages its own affairs, but there was a need for an entity that could speak where needed for all drive-clans. And so, Woldland was born. Each drive-clan sends a representative to a council. The council in turn is authorized to govern how clans interact with the outside world.

Formal education is somewhat haphazard; each drive-clan decides for itself what is needed. A growing number of clans are deciding that literacy is a good idea, especially when dealing with foreigners.

Next: X is for: Xorsecc

V is for: Vlis (#AtoZchallenge)

In the time of Camac That Was, Vlis was a small but important city, upriver from Koyr. Surrounded by forest, Vlis supplied Koyr with the lumber needed for its shipbuilding industry. Situated near the Deep Forest, Koyr was also the primary contact (and trading point) with the Unfallen who dwelt in the forest.

An interesting and disturbing rumor dates back to the beginning of The Madness. Shortly before people began going mad, Red Vlis (a title meaning roughly “Lord Mayor of Vlis”) gathered a few hundred citizens, who boarded barges going downriver. Anyone who asked was given the same explanation: “we seek haven.” The refugees debarked at the north landing and marched north on the Royal Road, but none of them ever arrived in the Northern Reach. They seem to have disappeared; the most common explanation is that The Madness took them and they perished in the middle of nowhere.

Near the end of the Age of Heroes, Captain Chelinn (whose official domain included Vlis) attempted to resettle the city. The attempt ultimately failed. Soon after, Chelinn wrote: My error was this: instead of finding people who were for Vlis, I gathered those who were against Ak’koyr. Animosity was not enough to overcome the hardships. Still, the effort was not all waste. For one thing, Chelinn stumbled upon the last settlement of the Unfallen, dwelling nearby in the Deep Forest. For another, he wrote copious notes about the resettlement, and his great-granddaughter Captain Rietha used that information wisely in her successful resettlement of Stolevan (Queensport).

In the modern age, Koyr has begun resettling Vlis, once again to provide lumber for shipbuilding (and for structures in the rapidly growing city). With Koyr actively providing resources, it seems that the resettlement will be successful this time around.

Next: W is for: Woldland

U is for: (The) Unfallen (#AtoZchallenge)

Quoting the creation myth: “The Evil One persuaded many people to worship the lesser gods, but a few refused. Those few withdrew from others, and the Creator brought them together as a new people. These, the aelfi’in (Unfallen), the Creator gave long and vigorous lives, and their children as well… The people were jealous of The Unfallen, and some sought to kill them, so they hid themselves away in the Deep Forest…”

Among the many misconceptions that folk have about The Unfallen is that they were elves, or immortal, or angels, or Makers. Only the latter was partially true; some Unfallen were Makers, but so were some folk. What is true is that The Unfallen had a much deeper communion with the Creator than did other folk (i.e., the descendants of the fallen). Their lives were truly long, without sickness, the way the Creator originally intended for all people. But over centuries or millennia, Unfallen would grow weary of their earthly existence and yearn for the life they knew was to come, so the Creator made provision for them to lay down their lives. Not all Unfallen were perfect; but for them, each sin was an original sin to be atoned for before the Creator. Theologians continue to wrestle with the implications.

Early on, The Unfallen made their way to the Deep Forest, a vast region extending from the northwestern coast past the Wide River, and a little beyond. Over time, the trees awakened; they would warn The Unfallen of intruders, and even defend against the hostile or discourteous. To this day, few are foolish enough to take from the forest without permission. (The Deep Forest is not so much enchanted as self-aware, although there is little effective difference.)

Toward the end of the Age of Heroes, Captain Chelinn began his unsuccessful attempt to resettle Vlis. Through the age, the Deep Forest expanded a little, near to the ruins of the old city. Exploring the immediate area, Chelinn stumbled across the last settlement of Unfallen. A few of the younger, more adventurous Unfallen befriended Chelinn and traveled with him after he again abandoned Vlis. He attempted to pass his silver-plumed Captain’s helm to Evin, claiming that a resident of the district should have the honor; Evin returned the helm to a protesting Chelinn on the eve of the battle that secured the Seventh Trumpet (Evin was one of the two Unfallen who winded the Trumpet as well).

Soon after the sounding of the Seventh Trumpet, the last of the Unfallen transcended, leaving behind only legends and a forest that is still awake.

Next: V is for: Vlis

T is for: (The) Treaty (#AtoZchallenge)

Its official name is A Compact Among the Civilized Nations, Concerning the Use of Magic in Battle, but sorcerers (and nearly everyone else) simply call it The Treaty. Signed in the ruins of Camac That Is, dated Year 3825 of the Pearl Throne (PT.3825, or SM.348, as years are reckoned in the Matriarchy), The Treaty forbids the employment of sorcerers in combat, both as sorcerers and as common soldiers.

The Treaty was first proposed by Ak’koyr in PT.3820, after a battle near the market town of Anlayt. The Northern Reach was threatening to overrun Anlayt, which would have left the road to Ak’koyr itself clear. Amon the Red, a sorcerer in Ak’koyr’s military, knew about the bones of a Firedrake nearby; in desperation, he awakened it and ordered it to destroy the Valiant Men of the North (the Reachers’ army). Not knowing the necessary binding spells, nor having pure motives, the dragon killed Amon and then wreaked havoc on both armies. With fighting forces depleted, the two countries called a truce and agreed to remove sorcerers from military service. (The cannon was a recent invention, which made sorcery in wartime less necessary anyway.)

Afterwards, both nations (especially the Northern Reach) championed the idea of a general worldwide ban on sorcery in battle. The Conclave of Sorcerers, whose numbers had begun to decline, embraced the proposal. Other nations were at least agreeable to the idea, and sent delegations to Camac to hammer out the details. The Conclave sent a delegation as well, and inserted a clause that allowed sorcerers to use magic to protect themselves or family members in any conflict. Another exception allows sorcerers to serve in non-combat roles; for example, calling the wind on a naval ship or aiding Healers. Still, the Conclave has since pursued a policy of putting the needs of all Termag above the needs of any nation or locale. Some folk consider the Conclave to be a de facto nation, whose population is scattered among other nations.

As combat magic was a large part of sorcery up to this time, The Treaty actually accelerated the decline of sorcery (rather than protecting the existing numbers, as the Conclave had hoped). Major combat spells were put aside entirely, while simpler spells were repurposed to peaceful use. In the modern age, new and old enemies are driving a renaissance in combat magic. An untrained boy, who awakened an ice dragon to defend his besieged town, triggered the renewed interest—but those stories are available on most eBook sites. :-)

Next: U is for: (The) Unfallen

S is for: Sorcery (#AtoZchallenge)

Sorcery, harnessing the classical elements (Earth, Air, Fire, and Water) to produce a physical result, is one of several kinds of magic known on Termag. Others include enchantment (imbuing an object with magical power) and witchcraft (harnessing nature, and working around the edges of Chaos magic). In ancient times, Making was a power both coveted and feared, as Maker could create anything they could imagine. Chaos magic (the polar opposite of Making) includes weather control; it is known, but not understood. Sorcerers generally believe that the rules of Chaos magic are too complex for the human mind to grasp, and attempts to harness it tend to prove that theory.

The Three Principles govern sorcery (and to a lesser extent, other kinds of magic). These principles are:

1) Principle of Necessity—there must be a need for the magic performed. Many sorcerers point out that the principle itself is rather loose at times, and includes the need to practice (especially for apprentices). Rogue sorcerers have a very loose interpretation, that allows them to use magic for unethical purposes.

2) Principle of Power (or Intent)—some suggest that this should be two principles, but traditionally they are combined. It does make sense: the person performing sorcery must have both the Talent for sorcery, and the intent to produce some result.

3) Principle of Closure—a spell begun must be closed. Some spells close themselves; for example, a Finding spell is closed when the sorcerer locates the missing object. Others (like Sleep or the False Dawn) must be explicitly closed. Any open-ended (permanent) spell must be cast as an enchantment.

A sorcerer typically undergoes six years of training as an apprentice. The distinctions of junior, intermediate, and senior apprentice are a rough guide to the capabilities of an apprentice, and each period lasts roughly two years. Intermediate apprentices begin to learn more complex spells that combine two elements, and can maintain two to four spells simultaneously. Some seniors can hold up spells in their sleep.

After six years, apprentices appear at the Gathering for testing. The testing is more practical than theoretical, and those doing the testing note how well the apprentice does with each element. In the end, if the apprentice passes, the testers choose a “primary element” for the new sorcerer, and indicate that primary element with a colored sash: brown for Earth, white for Air, red for Fire, blue for Water. The sorcerer then takes the color of that element as a title; for example, Bailar the Blue or Jira the White.

Next: T is for: (The) Treaty

R is for: (Captain) Rietha (#AtoZchallenge)

Captain Rietha may well be the single most influential figure of the modern age. Born Lady Rietha, of House Chelor in Dacia, Rietha was Chelinn’s great-granddaughter (through his adopted daughter Sarna). As a child, she learned a great deal about tactics from the retired Captain Chelinn, and grew into an excellent soldier and tactician.

In those days, skirmishes and raids against (and by) the other cities of the southern coast were common, and Rietha’s competence in battle meant she advanced quickly. In her twenty-third year, she was granted the silver-plumed helmet of the Captains—and by coincidence, the same helm had belonged to Chelinn in his day. Rietha was assigned an unpopulated region—in her case, Stolevan, a few days’ sail west of Dacia.

As was common for Captains with unpopulated territories, she set out on an exploratory tour; they sometimes found a purpose on these journeys. Sailing east and south, her caravel was caught in a major storm and blown aground in the South Sea Islands. The ship required extensive repairs, which gave Rietha time to observe the local customs. To her surprise, she found that the Islands were a matriarchy. It was then that Rietha asked her crew the famous question: Must women rule only in the south? Why not in the west as well?

Returning to Dacia, she made careful plans. Her great-grandfather had attempted to resettle his territory in Vlis, upriver from Ak’koyr, in his day, but had failed. So Rietha gathered people, both women and men, who shared her vision of a new kind of nation. About eight hundred people from the coastal cities answered the call.

The phrase “social engineering” is unknown on Termag, but Rietha’s attempt at it was successful. To establish the tradition of women in charge, from the household to the throne, she used laws until they were set enough to become custom. Compulsory education, both for children and immigrant adults, was an innovation that has been copied by several other nations (most notably the Northern Reach); besides letters and numbers, schools taught history and the social norms of the Stolevan Matriarchy. Thus, the Matriarchy has a very high literacy rate. (In the Matriarchy, it is a truism that since men cannot fight for status and position, they devote their energies to the good of the nation, and all prosper as a result. Scholars in other nations suggest that universal literacy may be the actual key to the Matriarchy’s strength.)

Although Rietha renamed the city Queensport, using the old name for the nation as a whole, she never took the title of Queen. Respecting her decision, she is simply called the First Matriarch. After the Council of Captains agreed to dissolve, Rietha sent her helm to House Chelor, where it has a place of honor alongside Captain Chelinn’s sword. When she died, her final resting place became a shrine of sorts; women (and some men) leave prayer candles with requests for guidance and wisdom.

Next: S is for: Sorcery

Q is for: Queensport (#AtoZchallenge)

Queensport, formerly Stolevan, is the capital of the Stolevan Matriarchy in the modern age.

In the time of Camac That Was, Stolevan’s population was even larger than Camac’s, and was the most important city in the southern half of the empire. Farms sent massive amounts of grain and forestry products down the Wide River, and Stolevan’s shipbuilding facilities rivaled Koyr’s. The important Conclave of Sorcerers had its headquarters in the Great Keep, standing guard over the mouth of the Wide.

Like most cities, Stolevan was devastated during The Madness. Protector Kontir was able to preserve the Keep, but soon abandoned it for the relative stability in the Northern Reach. Old Stolevan remained largely empty throughout the Age of Heroes, sheltering only the occasional raider or squatter.

About a decade before the Council of Captains agreed to dissolve, Captain Rietha established the Stolevan Matriarchy. Once the population began to spread north, she renamed the city Queensport, using its old name for the entire nation. With an agreeable climate, and plenty of good farmland nearby, immigrants poured in (many of them the poor of Ak’koyr and women of the East, with hopes of freedom and land ownership).

In modern times, Queensport is once again Termag’s most populous city. Again, the city distributes the bounty of upriver farms across the world, builds ships, and is the home of the Conclave. Rietha established a tradition of open borders; citizens are free to emigrate, and foreigners are free to immigrate. (Often, men leave and women come, both seeking opportunities they do not enjoy at home, but the ramifications of the Matriarchy’s social structure could easily fill two or three blog posts.)

Next: R is for: (Captain) Rietha

P is for: Protectors (and Captains) (#AtoZchallenge)

Maintaining a far-flung empire without instant communication and rapid transport has always been a problem. Rulers, of necessity, have to delegate. Camac’s rule was no different: it was up to trusted governors in remote areas to uphold the law and keep the peace. However, Camac added a second layer of insurance.

In the time of Camac That Was, sorcery was an integral part of the military. All sorcerers were expected to serve time under command, and were subject to be recalled in time of need. Indeed, the leadership of the Conclave of Sorcerers, the Protectors, were also among the highest-ranking officers of Camac’s military. The nine Protectors were stationed in keeps, scattered across the empire. The First Protector, the acknowledged leader of leaders, dwelt in Camac’s Imperial Keep. Protectors wore a cape, rather than a sash, as their badge of office, taking the color of their primary element.

Under each Protector were five or six Captains, fifty in all. The title of Captain was given to those officers skilled in strategy, tactics, and diplomacy (similar to Knights in medieval Europe). They had no rank in the regular military hierarchy, but were authorized to call up to 10,000 soldiers to serve as needed (which gave them a rank equivalent to Grand Commander). The Captains were distinguished by a helmet with a silver plume.

The function of Protectors and Captains was to act in the name of the Pearl Throne during any local or regional crisis, greatly reducing the time that the empire needed to mobilize to meet a threat or emergency. Five Protectors in remote or restive (i.e. Eastern) provinces each had one of the Eyes of Byula; the First Protector in Camac had the sixth. The Eyes allowed their possessors to speak directly with one another, further reducing reaction times.

After The Madness, three Protectors and ten Captains survived. After the greatest crisis of all, it was up to them to preserve the empire. In that they failed, but they did manage to preserve some knowledge and culture for future generations. The Protectors continued to be, as of old, equally women and men; the Captains less so, but it was not uncommon for women to wear the silver-plumed helm. Unfortunately, the rest of the world descended into patriarchy through The Lost Years.

Through the Age of Heroes, Protectors and Captains were seen as essential peacekeepers and diplomats, even if they did not always live up to expectations. But with the Goblins finally exterminated for good, and the dreams of Camac Reborn fading, Protectors became little more than leaders of the Conclave of Sorcerers. Toward the end of the age, many Captains began to view their office as little more than ceremonial, a vestige of a bygone empire with no modern function.

In the ruins of Camac, the Council met—as it turned out, for the last time. The words of Captain Rietha (by then the founder and ruler of the Stolevan Matriarchy) describe the sentiment of most at that last meeting:

We have fought the good fight. We could not restore that which was long lost, but we preserved what we could. We kept the peace where possible, and maintained order where necessary. This was an age of heroes, but it is time for a new age. Folk will always look to Camac That Was as a golden age, and we can go our own way, knowing that women and men live on to remember those past glories.

Shortly after, the Captains voted to put aside the silver-plumed helm. But for many, the words of Rietha resonated, and the phrase “age of heroes” stuck.

Next: Q is for: Queensport

O is for: Oakendrake (#AtoZchallenge)

[I had a different O entry written, but I think more people will like this one.]

Oakendrake: see Deep Forest Tree Dragon.

One of the Lesser Dragons, the Deep Forest Tree Dragon is known as the Oakendrake by most folk (and indeed, just about everywhere outside a book of dragonlore). As the stuffier name implies, it is found mostly in the Deep Forest or nearby, and makes its nest in trees. They are among the largest of Lesser Dragons; the largest are an entire reach (roughly 6 feet or 1.8m) from nose to tail tip. Their wingspan is almost twice their body length, but they fly well even through the thickest parts of the Deep Forest. They are green or brown, and can change color in that range to provide camouflage.

One thing that sets Oakendrakes apart from other dragons, is that they are often very curious and even friendly toward those humans who trek through the Deep Forest. They often follow hikers, and many folk consider that to be good luck. This behavior may be a relic from the days when the Unfallen roamed the forest. Although even Lesser Dragons are no one’s pet, many old paintings of Unfallen often include an Oakendrake lying near the subjects or even draped across their shoulders. As the Unfallen were known to commune with other forest creatures, this is not as surprising as it might seem. Of course, the dragons may now be mainly interested in what food the humans are carrying.

Oakendrakes are omnivorous, and have no known predators (although scavengers may prey on the sick or dying, and eggs unattended are always at risk). They build wide nests, high in oak trees. Some scholars believe them to be the eyes and ears of the Deep Forest, carrying important information to the farthest reaches of the forest.

Like all Lesser Dragons, Oakendrakes are thought to innately understand human speech. Legends and lore claim that those who dwelt with the Unfallen would learn to speak at least a few words.


As a child, Bailar the Blue probably saw a few Oakendrakes in his hikes into the Deep Forest. If he (and Mik and Sura) survive the battle they have waiting for them in Book 5, then they will all meet an Oakendrake in Book 6. I need to get writing!

Next: P is for: Protectors (and Captains)

Guest Post: Icy Sedgwick

We pause in the headlong rush of #AtoZchallenge posts for a guest post. Icy Sedgwick has a new book out, The Necromancer’s Apprentice, featuring… mummies! Icy writes the best mummy stories, and she’s ready to share her thoughts about her favorite monsters…

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It sometimes feels like horror monsters have been reduced to vampires, werewolves, zombies, demons and, at a push, ghosts. You just need to look at the classic Universal horrors of the 1930s, or the Hammer cycle of the late 1950s and early 1960s, to realise there any many more monsters to choose from. Personally, my favourite will always be the mummy. Look at Boris Karloff’s charismatic portrayal of Im-Ho-Tep in The Mummy (1932), in which the undead priest was a far more attractive romantic lead than the pathetic ‘hero’. Christopher Lee turned his Kharis into a formidable powerhouse in The Mummy of 1958. Even Arnold Loos’ mummy in The Mummy (1999) was an awesome prospect, simply because he wanted his old love back.

I love mummies for three reasons. Unlike vampires, who are the aristocracy of the horror world, or zombies who are sometimes coded as the working class, mummies are quite classless – not all mummies were royalty, after all. Mummies belong to another world, and another time, and their exoticism adds to their appeal. Furthermore, they don’t necessarily have to suffer the same limitations as other monsters. Aside from cats, Loos’ Imhotep fears nothing, and is all powerful. He isn’t restricted by time of day, or the time of the month. Finally, mummies actually exist. Granted, they’re not rampaging around a city near you, but it’s possible to visit a museum and see one for yourself. The mummy, even in its inert state, represents something more tangible than that of the vampire.

It was my love of mummies that led me to include them in The Necromancer’s Apprentice. I’ve written several flash stories about mummies in the past, and they were part of the story from the very beginning – it was after watching The Sorcerer’s Apprentice that I thought “Wouldn’t it be cool to replace the sorcerer with a necromancer, and the brooms with mummies?” They have an interesting relationship with the dead anyway, being inert until life is returned to them, yet they possess an element of consciousness that is denied to the zombie.

The mummies in the novella aren’t necessarily ‘traditional’ – the mummies are those of the royal family, and they’re kept in the House of the Long Dead, where the necromancer general acts as an intermediary should anyone need to consult with them post mortem. They appear in the story because the Crown Prince has decided he wants to include them in his Coronation parade, and so they need to be resurrected for this purpose. The job is such a big one that the necromancer general needs an assistant, and so she hires Jyx, a magickal protégée from the Academy to act as her apprentice. Of course, things don’t go according to plan but if they did it would have been a much shorter book.

I’m never sure exactly when or why mummies became viewed as monstrous, and while they are in The Necromancer’s Apprentice (although not through any fault of their own), I’ll still always have a soft spot for bandaged marauders.

What about you? What are your favourite monsters?

Bio

Icy Sedgwick was born in the North East of England, and lives and works in Newcastle. She has been writing with a view to doing so professionally for over ten years, and has had several stories included in anthologies, including Short Stack and Bloody Parchment: The Root Cellar & Other Stories.

She spends her non-writing time working on a PhD in Film Studies, considering the use of set design in contemporary horror. Icy had her first book, a pulp Western named The Guns of Retribution, published in 2011, and her horror fantasy, The Necromancer’s Apprentice, was released in March 2014.

Links

Website: http://www.icysedgwick.com

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/The-Necromancers-Apprentice-Icy-Sedgwick/dp/0615964893/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/icypop

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/miss.icy.sedgwick

Google +: http://plus.google.com/+IcySedgwick/about

N is for: (The) Northern Reach (#AtoZchallenge)

The Northern Reach is a long peninsula on the west side of the Straits between the Northern Sea and the Gulf of Camac. It stretches north, then bends east, sheltering the Straits from the worst storms of summer.

Throughout history, the Northern Reach has been renowned for its wines. Until the early Age of Heroes, it was a rural, pastoral region of farms and hillside vineyards. North Keep was the only real population center in those days, the nearby harbor a military outpost. But as Isenbund began to freeze, and the Northerners relocated to the Reach, the outpost became a town. Its name, Phylok, honored the Captain of Isenbund who helped to preserve the few scraps of the old order that did survive.

Through the Age of Heroes, wars and skirmishes with both Ak’koyr and some of the nearby Eastern city-states were common. Ak’koyr managed to conquer the Reach on two occasions, and hold it as a vassal state for a few decades, but eventually the Northerners would rise up and regain their independence.

The sporadic fighting continued into the modern age, for about 350 years. After Amon the Red awakened a Firedrake during one particular battle, devastating both armies, both sides called a truce that began a long (and wary, at first) peace. That particular battle led to the signing of The Treaty, which bans sorcerers from warfare.

To this day, “Reacher” wines command a premium price in faraway corners of Termag. Other exports include gold, copper, and wheat.

Next: O is for: Oakendrake

M is for: (The) Madness (#AtoZchallenge)

The Madness is the common name for the cataclysm that put an end to Camac That Was, and nearly wiped out all humanity on Termag. Exactly what it was, or what caused it, is something that alchemists and philosophers debate without end. Many in the modern age assume that it was a particularly virulent pandemic, perhaps carried from another world by a sorcerer. Others speculate that Camac found a way to combine the powers of Fire and Water, and the contradiction itself was enough to drive the world mad.

What little is actually known comes from fragmentary records dating to the beginning of The Lost Years. It seems to have begun in the western reaches of the empire, and spread like wildfire across the known world. Many places only had a few days’ advance warning, if that. Over half the people were stricken, and were immediately driven mad. They often set upon their fellows (sane or not), and some of those who survived the horror took their own lives. The mad who were not slain (by their own hand or another’s) eventually died on their own after a year. The pandemic, if pandemic it was, may have lost strength as it journeyed east—it was said that the Eastern provinces were not as hard-hit, while the Land of the Dawn Greeters and the South Sea Islands escaped the worst effects.

However it was, the survivors numbered perhaps five percent of the original population. It was up to that tiny remnant to rebuild, and thus began the Age of Heroes.

Next: N is for: (The) Northern Reach

L is for: Lesser Moon (and Greater Moon) (#AtoZchallenge)

Quoth the creation mythos: “When the Creator saw what the Evil One had done, he took away the name and office of the Teacher of Pride, but the Evil One would not yet repent. So in his divine wrath, the Creator broke the Evil One in two, and cast both pieces into the night sky, and they chase each other to this day. Thus do those who lay a curse invoke the power of the moon.”

As the Evil One no longer has a name, neither do the moons that represent him. Few people in modern times think of the Evil One shining down upon them at night; if they do, they thank the Creator that he was able to make some good use of the rebellious lesser god. Still, in augury, the Moon rune represents a curse. Usually, the curse becomes the central part of the augury, with the other runes perhaps helping to explain the nature of the curse. An ancient Northern practice placed a Moon rune atop a spear, which was driven into the ground where an enemy could see it. The cursing-post, as they called it, accompanied a spoken or written invocation that named the cursed one(s) and the punishment sought from the Creator and the lesser gods.

For the most part, Termag’s folk have been uninterested in astronomy. Other worlds are known, and sorcerers occasionally travel to them (deliberately or otherwise). In later years, that has begun to change, but the equivalent of Apollo 11 is a long way off.

Next: M is for: (The) Madness

K is for: Koyr and Ak'koyr (#AtoZchallenge)

Situated on the western Gulf of Camac, only a few days’ sail from the capital, Koyr was the third-largest city in the empire. It was primarily a shipbuilding center. Lumber from Vlis was floated down the Vliskoyr River to Koyr, providing a ready supply of raw materials. (On the southern coast, Stolevan was supplied by forests along the Wide River.)

Koyr’s distinctive features were the Iron Gate (a great treasure) and the acropolis just outside the city. Built on a high hill, it had seven walls rising up the hill like a layer cake. The hill itself was a vast underground city, riddled with hallways and rooms. The upper reaches held granaries and the like.

During The Madness, Captain Anlayt evacuated the sane to the acropolis, where they waited out the destruction in relative comfort. Once things settled down, the survivors removed the Iron Gate and set it up in place of the gate in the topmost wall. They renamed their home and refuge Ak’koyr (Koyr Above). As a safety measure, Captain Anlayt ordered all Koyr’s mad to be slaughtered, and their bodies thrown in the harbor. This injustice led the souls of the mad to walk Koyr for centuries, and the old city could not be resettled until the shades finally began to pass away some 2300 years later.

Still, with a large population of survivors, and ambition to match, Ak’koyr quickly became the chief city during the Age of Heroes. Many of the ruling families saw themselves as Camac Reborn, and made many attempts over the centuries to re-establish the empire under new rulers. The Conclave of Sorcerers moved its headquarters to Ak’koyr from Stolevan (which was in ruins), and those Captains whose territories were yet unsettled often made Ak’koyr their home.

Unlike Camac, which sought to provide all its citizens with a reasonable standard of living, Ak’koyr demanded much from but gave little to the least fortunate among them. Seeking some measure of freedom, some began to inhabit the lower reaches of the underground. They named their passages Nightwalk, and it became a de facto city within a city.

By the end of the Age of Heroes, Ak’koyr began to give up on the dream of empire. Their dominion always covered much of the Gulf, and there were brief periods where they had the Northern Reach and a few nearby Eastern provinces under their heel. There were several further attempts to reconquer at least the Northern Reach, but a few more centuries left Ak’koyr content to rule itself.

A generation before Accidental Sorcerers begins, the last of the shades faded from Koyr proper. Poor folk began to resettle the old city, claiming choice property and triggering a land rush. The old order was upended, and Ak’koyr became little more than a museum piece.

Next: L is for: Lesser Moon (and Greater Moon)

J is for: Jira the White (#AtoZchallenge)

Jira (“noonday sun” or “brilliant”) was Protector of the North during The Madness and its aftermath. Historians credit her with preserving much of what survived of Camac’s knowledge and customs for future generations. Little is known about her personal life, as she used her journal to record the events of the moment.

With the verified death of Her Sublime Majesty, as the only surviving Protector in or near the Gulf of Camac, the burden of ruling what was left of Camac fell to Jira. Despite repeated attempts to undermine her authority, primarily by Captain Anlayt of Ak’koyr, she was able to maintain order in the North and repel raiding parties from the East. It was through her efforts that much of the remnant of Isenbund relocated to the Northern Reach, and she accidentally established Woldland.

She bore a child by a liaison with Arbul the Blue, one of the only surviving mages of Camac proper, and others with Captain Phylok of Isenbund.

The web serial “The Lost Years” (on this blog) is primarily Jira’s story.

Next: K is for: Koyr (and Ak’koyr)

I is for: Isenbund (#AtoZchallenge)

Northerners dwelt in the chill isles of the Faraway North for longer than history can record. Over time, Camac absorbed the North into its empire, “and turned us into tall, pale Westerners.” Most Northerners lived in or near Isenbund, although each island had its own market village.

In the years leading up to The Madness, the North grew noticeably colder. Crops began to fail, and the North began importing food from the rest of the empire. After The Madness, the remnant was able to feed itself for a decade, but then came the summer that Isenbund’s harbor never thawed. Most Northerners relocated to the Northern Reach, but a handful opted to die in their ancestral city. The epic poem The Lament for Isenbund tells of the hardships they faced, and the yearning of those who departed, that their descendants might return one day. Isenbund became “the Icebound,” and even the Northerners accepted the name change over time.

In modern times, the North has begun to thaw… that book is written, and soon to be published. ;-)

Next: J is for: Jira the White

H is for: History (#AtoZchallenge)

Fantasy can be thought of as an expression of humanity’s yearning for something greater—whether it’s finding the hero within us, or a power beyond ourselves. Part of that yearning is the desire to look back to a golden age—or all too often, to create one where one never existed (like so many in America try to do with the 1950s). The ancient Greeks codified it in their own lore, naming the Ages of Man: Golden Age, Silver Age, Bronze Age, Iron Age.

Fantasy, especially epic fantasy, represents this desire by depicting a true Golden Age (or at least one thought to be true). In Termag’s case, the Golden Age is known as “the time of Camac That Was.” Little is truly known about this time, that ended fifteen hundred years before the end of the Age of Heroes, but the hints that survived are tantalizing. The empire depended on magic more than technology, but basic medical techniques (including hygiene and germ theory) were known and survived the passing of the age. Camac may also have solved many social problems that we continue to struggle with on Earth. Camac That Was, and much of Termag’s population, perished in a cataclysmic pandemic known as The Madness.

The Silver Age, the Age of Heroes, is roughly two millennia of attempting to rebuild. Those efforts were hampered by both infighting and other round of Goblin Wars, and ultimately the dreams of Camac Reborn were abandoned.

In the Bronze Age, or “modern times” as the folk call it, people have not reached the peak of ancient Camac… or perhaps they have, but don’t realize it. (As far as the Iron Age goes, Termag may never get there. Iron is rare and precious.)

Next: I is for: Isenbund

G is for: Gods (#AtoZchallenge)

Termag has a number of religions, but I’ve delved deepest into the Western tradition. An abbreviated version of the creation myth may be the best way to describe it:

Before there was a before, the Creator spoke into being the River of Time, that flows to the Sea of Eternity. Then the Creator made Termag and the other worlds, and placed them in a barge. He made the Tiller to steer the barge, and he may be seen in the night sky. … Then the Creator gave life to the worlds, and the people came forth. They ate of the good things that grew in the world, and were happy.

As the people grew in numbers, they could no longer feed everyone by roaming over the land. And so there were quarrels, and fights. The Creator was troubled by what they did, and sent the lesser gods (in some traditions, the Teachers, or Great Powers) to teach the people how to be civilized. The Creator charged the people to listen to the lesser gods, to respect their words, but not to worship them. …

But the Evil One, he who taught pride, said in his heart: “We are far above the people. Why should they not worship us?” And he tried to stir the other Teachers against the Creator. … But only the Teacher of Tools joined the Evil One, and only for a time, and soon repented. (Thus it is that all tools may be used for both good or evil.)

It is also said that the Trickster, who taught jokes and pranks, may have joined with the Evil One, but never admitted it.

Among folk, it is customary to make a warding gesture (palms together, then spread apart) when mentioning a lesser god—especially the Trickster, who is thought to inspire pranks without shielding the pranksters from the consequences. Some traditions venerate ancestors as well.

An older religion holds that Termag is a living being, perhaps an avatar of the Creator. The Dawn Greeters, who live on a peninsula at the easternmost reach of the continent, worship the sun as a manifestation of the Creator, who continues to bring life to the world.

Next: H is for: History

F is for: Fables (#AtoZchallenge)

Or fairy tales, or whatever you’d like to call them (since fables use animals). Parents tell their children bedtime stories—whether to settle them in for the night, to illustrate virtues or truths, or simply to help explain the world they live in. It’s no different on Termag.

“Once, in the time of Camac That Was,” is the traditional way to begin a children’s story. But how about a couple of examples? Links take you elsewhere on this blog.

The Three Builders

The Traveler

Next: G is for: Gods

E is for: Elements (#AtoZchallenge)

The classical elements—Earth, Air, Fire, and Water—are the basis of sorcery. Sorcerers perform magic by manipulating (or rather, harnessing) the chosen element or elements. Intermediate (usually third-year or later) apprentices and full sorcerers can combine two (or more) elements for more powerful effects:

The illustration depicts important truths about sorcery:

• Fire and Water don’t mix, at least by themselves. As described in my flash story Apotheosis, though, Earth and Air can act as moderating influences for the most complex spells.
• Chaos magic is outside the realm of sorcery altogether. As is its legendary opposite, Making.

We’ll talk a little more about magic in Sorcery.

Next: F is for: Fables

D is for: Dragonlore (#AtoZchallenge)

On Termag, dragons fall into three broad categories.

Elemental Dragons

The rarest and most powerful of all dragons—perhaps of all living creatures. At one time, Elemental Dragons may have roamed wild; but historically, they can only be awakened by magic. As the name implies, Elemental Dragons are associated with one of the four sorcerous elements:

• Earth: Cave Wyrm
• Air: Cloud Dragon
• Fire: Firedrake
• Water: Ice Dragon

The binding spells, required to keep the awakened dragon under control, were lost (with a great deal more knowledge) during The Lost Years (see Age of Heroes). One who awakens such a dragon with pure motives may survive, but the usual result is fatal to everyone nearby.

Greater Dragons

Greater Dragons are extinct on Termag. While they could not breathe fire, they were highly intelligent and could speak human languages (if they cared to). However, they would not willingly work together or tolerate each other outside of mating season. Humans may not have set out to exterminate Greater Dragons; but hunting them (and their eggs) disrupted their ability to breed, and they died out.

Lesser Dragons

There are several species of Lesser Dragons still living on Termag. Like their larger cousins, they are intelligent, but do not speak human languages (although some believe they have an innate understanding of all speech). A superstition among many rural folk is that they house the souls of humans who died before their time.


And now, you know at least as much about dragons as most folk.

Next: E is for: Elements

Sleeping Butay (2 of 2) (#FridayFlash)

Check out Part 1 here, then read on…

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With Butay safely out of the way, Hatchet gathered her entourage and returned to the Dominion. Word preceded her, and Prince Chowming packed a bag. “I am on a tour of the Dominion’s golf courses,” he told his advisors, “and then I may journey to Aht-Lann-Tah to see how their courses compare. But I have no fixed itinerary, nor a set time to return.” With that, he bolted from the castle with his closest friend and caddy, Lord Horn.

Once safely away, Chowming and Horn changed into the clothes of common travelers, and set out for the coast. There was only one minor incident along the way, and the Prince has asked me to keep it quiet out of respect for Lord Horn’s dignity.

“Tell me again your intent?” Horn asked, as they neared the town.

“I will find someone to marry on my own,” said Prince Chowming, “and then perhaps that horrid Princess Hatchet will trouble me no more.”

Horn was doubtful, both of the plan and of Hatchet, but said nothing. As princes went, Chowming was easy-going—but there were limits, and the aforementioned minor incident had mostly depleted that deep reservoir of goodwill. So they reached the seaside town, and Chowming revealed himself to the mayor.

“Majesty,” said the mayor, bowing enough to strain his back, “how may we serve you as you grace our presence?”

“I am looking for a wife,” said Chowming. “Tell me, who is the most beautiful maiden in your lovely town?”

“That would be Butay, daughter of Lee and Ki the boatbuilders. But—”

“Is she betrothed?”

“No longer, majesty. But—”

“Then direct me to her home, mayor. I thank you for your help.” Chowming waved away all further objections, and the mayor gave directions.

Lee and Ki were surprised to see the Prince at their door, but were shocked and dismayed when he told them, “I wish to see your daughter, Butay, to ask her hand in marriage.”

“But, majesty,” said Lee. “She is asleep.”

“Then I shall wait for her to awaken.”

Ki wept. “Our daughter has been asleep for a week,” she said. “None have been able to waken her.”

I wonder if Hatchet got to her first, he thought. Aloud he said, “May I see her?”

Denying the Prince anything was unlawful, but he was so polite and well-spoken that the boatbuilders would not have objected had they dared. And so, they led him to her room and left him there to ponder the sleeping Butay.

“She is indeed beautiful,” the Prince whispered. “I only wish I knew what to do.”

“Take her, then marry her,” Lord Horn suggested. “She is in no position to object.”

“What?”

“Certainly, my prince. This is an opportunity of a lifetime. A wife who does not naysay, nor nag, nor—”

“That seems hardly sporting,” said Chowming. “She cannot object, but neither can she consent.”

“You’re the prince! Look. I’ll go take her parents to dinner or something. You just do what comes natural, then we’ll carry her home. If you insist, we’ll have the local priest bless the union or whatever.”

Chowming stood alone, looking at Butay. “This is so wrong,” he muttered. He slid the bench from her vanity across to her bed, then sat on it and took her hand. “If I have to marry at all,” he told her softly, “I would just as soon it were someone like you. I don’t know you, but your parents seem like honest folk. If you’re anything like them…” He took a deep breath. “Butay, daughter of Lee and Ki, will you marry me? If you do not object, I will take that as a ‘yes.’ And I swear, I will—”

“What did you say?” Butay’s eyes fluttered open, for asking for her hand in marriage was how Hatchet’s spell was broken.

“I said, will you marry me?” Chowming gasped. “Butay! You’re—you’re—”

“Um… who are you, and why would I want to marry you?”

“I’m Prince Chowming.”

“Ohh. You must be loaded. Sure, I’ll marry you.”

“Oh, happy day!” Chowming bolted from the room and out the door, calling for Lord Horn and Butay’s parents.


“So I would like to marry your daughter,” Prince Chowming told Lee and Ki. “I know she’s not a princess, but I can fix that with a royal decree—”

“But she is a princess,” Ki said quietly. “The night before our wedding, King Grabaz came to me and demanded his privilege.” She turned to her husband. “I’m so sorry, Lee. I was embarrassed, and I hoped that… well, now I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Well, this is awkward,” said Chowming. “That means you’re my sister. Dad was such an asshole.”

“Figures,” Butay grumbled. “Can’t seem to get a break. Or a wedding.”

“But you could still come back to the castle,” Chowming insisted. “Since you’re my sister, you have access to the royal credit card. I was only looking for a wife to help stimulate the economy. Do you like to shop? Bring your parents, too. We’ll give them a nice retirement, wing in the castle, servants, the works.”

“Er, sire,” Lord Horn mumbled. “There’s the matter of Princess Hatchet.”

“Oh, dear, that’s right,” said Chowming. “I can’t go home until she does.”

“Princess Hatchet’s at the castle?” Butay scowled. “That was her who gave me that drugged wine, like as not.” She rolled up her sleeve and clenched a fist, hard and knobby from a lifetime of building boats. “I’ll see to her.”

And so, they returned to the castle. After a most entertaining smackdown, a battered and bruised Hatchet fled home with the tattered remnants of her entourage. Princess Butay and her mother stimulated the economy quite well with their shopping, and the people of the Dominion once again prospered. As for Chowming, he decided to take that golfing tour after all. All was well in the Dominion, and they all lived happily… for a while, at least. Until the next thing happened.

After all, this is the Strange Lands.

C is for: Camac That Was (#AtoZchallenge)

Unlike most of Termag’s historic great cities, Camac was not founded at the mouth of a river. It may have began as a fishing village, as are many small towns along the shores of the Gulf of Camac. It is situated on a natural harbor, though. What fragments of history survive from Camac That Was do not include its early years, nor what made it the nucleus of a vast empire.

What is known is that the empire advanced more socially than technologically. For example, gender roles were a foreign concept—at least in the West. The restive Eastern provinces were granted much in the way of self-rule, but their patriarchal customs were suppressed until The Madness destroyed the empire. Another example was the “none shall starve” laws. The Pearl Throne owned the land surrounding Camac proper; these lands were kept clear of trees or buildings to deny shelter to invaders, but plots were granted to the poor of Camac for gardening.

Without instant communication, governing a far-flung empire could be a problem—especially in a crisis. Thus, they created the offices of the Protectors, nine sorcerers who had the authority to act in the name of the Pearl Throne where necessary. The Eyes of Byula, a collection of scrying-stones, allowed Protectors to communicate with Camac when needed. Under each Protector were five or six Captains, military officers who had distinguished themselves as tacticians or strategists; Captains had the authority to raise an army when needed to defend their designated territories from external or internal threats.

The Madness destroyed Camac itself, and most of the empire. Today, Camac is home primarily to a handful of scholars, and several cooperatives that dig up stonework for use in other parts of the world.

Next: D is for: Dragonlore

B is for: Bailar the Blue (#AtoZchallenge)

Bailar the Blue is one of the central figures in the Accidental Sorcerers series. As the sorcerer training both his daughter Sura and her boyfriend Mik Dragonrider, he has his hands full keeping them focused. :-)

Early years

It is said that many sorcerers are the sons and daughters of farmers, and that was true in Bailar’s case. Born to wheat and rye farmers in the upper reaches of the Stolevan Matriarchy, along the edge of the Deep Forest, his early years were no different than most other children.

When he was five, a sickness ran through his small community. His mother delivered a stillborn daughter, whom they named Sura (for the summer sun). Bailar himself was stricken by a severe ear infection, that left him temporarily deaf. A Healer was able to restore his hearing, but his balance was permanently impaired. He learned how to cope, and attended school like any other child (education to age 13 is compulsory in the Stolevan Matriarchy). One game that local boys played was to dare their peers to walk into the Deep Forest. The Forest never held any terror for Bailar; he felt secure and balanced there, and would venture far deeper than any of the older boys.

Apprenticeship

On one of his walks in the Forest, Bailar fell. His hand clasped a fallen stick, and the trees told him to take it up as a staff. A truism among the older folk was that only a mage could hear the voices of the trees. With two older sisters, Bailar was unlikely to have much inheritance, and his balance would not allow him to be a good roustabout (farm hand for hire). He seized an opportunity for a better life: he boarded the next barge going downriver, debarked at Exidy, and went to the home of Gilsen the White. Gilsen agreed to take him as an apprentice.

It was that first summer that Bailar ran into trouble. Gilsen took him to the Gathering of the Conclave in Queensport; it was there that Bailar discovered Captain Chelinn’s An Account of Other Worlds. Carried away by stories of great deeds and battles (combat magic had been put aside four hundred years ago), Bailar often neglected his studies in favor of teaching himself spells with little or no application in modern days. The result was that he barely passed the tests given to all apprentices after six years, earning the blue sash of Water magic when he demonstrated his ability to call the water by using a combat spell that launched huge gouts of water high into the air.

Days later, before the Gathering was over, Gilsen died in his sleep. Perhaps sensing that he was about to begin the longest journey, the one from which there is no return, he wrote two letters. In the first, addressed to the Conclave, he invoked his privilege to choose his successor as Sorcerer of Exidy, and he named Bailar. The second was to Bailar himself, in which Gilsen left Bailar all of his worldly goods (including his house) and a great deal of practical advice. As Gilsen had no daughters, Matriarchy law allowed him to inherit the entire property. While the Protectors were reluctant to let a new sorcerer take the post, especially one who had showed little interest in practical magic, the Conclave’s traditions demanded they respect the dying wishes of one of their own.

Early Adult Life

Bailar settled into his role as Sorcerer of Exidy. As his house was across the Wide River from Exidy proper, his quiet life allowed him to catch up on studies that he had neglected.

One summer morning, he found an infant girl on his doorstep, whom he named for his stillborn sister. His life began to change—and changed even more some twelve years later, when a boy rode an ice dragon to his door…

Next: C is for: Camac That Was

A is for: Age of Heroes (#AtoZchallenge)

Let’s just dive right into Termag: A to Z.

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A is for: Age of Heroes

Like our own ages, the Age of Heroes is a convenient tag that historians give to a distinct period. In Termag’s case, it covers roughly fifteen hundred years after the destruction of Camac That Was. The first several centuries are often called “The Lost Years,” although that era is historically a part of the Age of Heroes. The beginning of the age was a dire time, as Jira the White, Protector of the North, wrote at the time:

Take twenty of the folk. Twelve of them fall to The Madness. Seven more perish, by the hands of the mad, starvation or accident, or their own hands. One is left to carry on, the horrors of the last few months forever etched on her mind. Can this tiny remnant re-establish order? Is it even worth trying?

Three Protectors (of nine) and ten Captains (of fifty) survived as well. In normal times, Protectors and Captains were how a far-flung empire maintained order; they stood outside the normal system of governance, but were charged to take command during any crisis. Thus, in the greatest crisis in history, all looked to them for advice and aid.

At first, the remnant hoped to re-establish Camac’s government and reach, to protect the remaining populace and maintain what infrastructure and knowledge had survived. But as the East declared independence, and Isenbund and the Faraway North succumbed to climate change, the focus began to narrow.

Goblins, driven into hiding after the First Goblin Wars, emerged anew and threatened to destroy what little was left of humanity as well. The Second Goblin Wars spanned centuries, and ended with the final defeat and extermination of the Goblins in their fastnesses near Isenbund and what is now Roth's Keep.

End of an Age

With the Goblins wiped out, there were several attempts to reunite the old empire (largely by Ak’Koyr, which saw itself as Camac Reborn). But by this time, none of the population centers, old or new, were willing to give up sovreignty. Ak’koyr itself never managed to extend its rule beyond the western Gulf of Camac, the Northern Reach, and a few nearby Eastern provinces. The role of Protectors devolved into little more than the leadership of the Conclave of Sorcerers, and Captains as ambassadors at large or privileged adventurers (Captain Chelinn being a conspicuous example of the latter).

Sorcerers mark the passing of the Age of Heroes at the winding the Seventh Trumpet outside North Keep (on the shores of the Northern Reach), but historians mark it with the dissolution of the Council of Captains some fifty years later. With various nations going their own ways, and many territories yet wild, many Captains saw their office as a relic of an era that was gone forever. The Council voted to dissolve itself, and folk marked it as the passing of an age.

Next: B is for: Bailar the Blue