‘Ah, wouldn’t you like to know,’ Crag teased. ‘Too bad for you. Seems I’ve picked up Sodar’s bad habits.’ When Annev frowned, the merchant laughed with true mirth. ‘Don’t fret, lad. I left a letter near the standin’ stone where we first met. You can take it to Sodar when you return – just don’t break the seal.’ Annev nodded. ‘Right then. Assumin’ we don’t get interrupted by another demon-witch or metal-monster, let’s talk on more pleasant things. Ask me about any town or place you’ve heard of, and I wager I’ve got a good story to tell.’
‘Well,’ Annev said, relenting, ‘how about the Green Froch and the Horse-lords?’
‘The Markluans! Ran into a few of those in my time. Fierce bargainers – fer savages, anyway. Their currency is strange, too. They don’t use the staves and suns like we do in the Empire. Instead, they got brass bangles and silver bands, copper hoops and gold rings. Anythin’ you can wear – anythin’ with a hole in it – can be used for trade.’
After another half-hour of walking and mostly pleasant conversation, Annev and the pedlar stumbled out of the Brakewood and onto the Brake Road. The stars were out and they could see far off down the road in either direction. There was no sign of other travellers. Crag ducked out from under the drawbar and picked up the phoenix lantern.
‘I promised you rattan and dragon’s blood in exchange for safe passage out of the Brake,’ Crag said. ‘And though we were attacked twice during the journey, the first time was of me own doing and the second was pure happenstance. You performed your duties as guide better than any man could hope for.’ He extended his empty hand. ‘That bein’ said, I’ll be takin’ me blasted cutlass back now.’
Annev grinned, handing the broken blade to Crag. ‘Thank you. May Odar protect you in your travels.’
‘And may Lumea lighten your path, wherever it takes you,’ Crag replied. ‘Speaking of which.’ He offered Annev the phoenix lantern. ‘I want you to take this – as a gift.’
Annev shook his head. ‘It’s too precious. And besides, you’ll need it.’
Crag huffed and pressed the carving into Annev’s hands. ‘I’ve got the stars to light my way, lad. Don’t need no riddle box, and I can always make another if I choose. You take it, I insist. A phoenix for a phoenix.’ Annev accepted the treasure. ‘Just keep that little bird away from your ancients,’ Crag warned. ‘That’s a gift freely given, and I don’t want to hear someone took it from you – ’specially not them bastards in the red pyjamas.’ He spat on the ground between Annev’s feet. This time, Annev didn’t even flinch.
‘Thank you,’ Annev said, knowing he’d have to leave it at the chapel along with Mercy. ‘I’ll treasure it, and our friendship, and I wish you good luck in Hentingsfort, or Port Caer, or wherever you’re headed to.’
‘All of them!’ Crag said, dipping back beneath the cart’s drawbar. ‘First town I stop at, though, I’m gettin’ meself another mule. Damned tiring having to drag this everywhere I go, and I miss Cenif’s company.’ He sighed then clapped Annev on the back. ‘Thank you, Ainnevog – and remember: if you don’t like the road you’re on, there’s always another path. Just takes courage to find it.’ Annev nodded, and then Crag heaved, starting the wagon down the starlit road. Annev slung the lantern in its webbing over his shoulder and watched until the cart vanished into the darkness.
Instead of going back into the Brake alone, Annev turned west and ran along the Brake Road. To his right was the slumbering Brakewood; to his left, the towering pines of the Vosgar. He ignored both, keeping his eyes on the road, and raced into the darkness. He knew he would eventually reach familiar paths, which offered a quicker way home.
For now, though, he was alone and free – free of obligations and ancients, of titles and tutors. They would all try to claim him once he reached Chaenbalu, but in this moment the road was his guide and the stars his companions. He ran faster, smiling in spite of his worries, and raced to beat the dawn.
Part Three
And Keos fell to the earth and cast his eyes about him, at his brother who had smitten him and at his sister who had stood by. And he raised his broken limb to his sister and cried out for help. But Lumea was ashamed and withdrew from his presence.
Now this hurt Keos far more than the physical injury he had suffered, for though Keos had once loved his elder brother, he still dearly loved his sister and felt Lumea’s betrayal sharpest of all.
And so it was that Keos lifted up his voice and cursed Odar and Lumea. And he cursed their children, the Darites and the Ilumites, and vowed that he would make war upon them. And he cursed the gifts which he had wrought, both the Staff of Odar and the Flute of Lumea. And the curse of Keos was potent, for it meant Lumea and Odar would be burned if they wielded the instruments. And the curse did extend even unto the followers of Odar and Lumea, that if a Darite or Ilumite attempted to take up the Staff or the Flute, they would be smitten and die.
Yet the curse of Keos was imperfect, for a small number of Odar and Lumea’s worshippers could still wield the instruments of power. Yea, those few Ilumites who had found great favour with Lumea were able to play the Flute, and those few Darites who had found great favour with Odar were able to carry the Staff. And they were called daltas, or child-gods, and were held in great reverence and blessed with vast magical power.
And so Keos fled and hid himself in the depths of the earth. And for a long time he would not be consoled, and he surrounded himself with none but the golems he had made while he took up his hammer and forged himself a new hand. And it was made of pure gold and was formed with great cunning and cleverness insomuch that it appeared like unto his hand of old, save that it was engraved with his artistry.
And Keos poured much of his remaining power and strength into this new hand, and also his malice, for he had sworn vengeance against Odar and Lumea. And even as Odar had sought the destruction of the Children of Keos, so Keos swore that he would destroy the worshippers of Odar and Lumea.
Now this was not all, for while Keos laboured in the depths of the earth, new Gods arose. And they were called the Younger Gods and came from the Breaking of the Hand of Keos. And their names were Sealgair the Hunter, God of Animals; Garadair the Gardener, God of Plants; Cruithear the Creator, God of Minerals; Dorchnok the Trickster, God of Shadows; and Tàcharan the Changeling, God of Chance.
And also five new races spawned from the Hand of Keos; and they were the Dragons, the Nymphs, the Giants, the Eidolons, and the Faeries. And from the palm of Keos sprang thousands of other magical creatures with neither race nor parentage. And they were called Keokum, for they were born of Keos and yet were not his children. And all of these things came from the Breaking of the Hand of Keos.
And the span of the Second Age was counted from the death of Myahlai until the Breaking of the Hand of Keos. And it was called the Age of Kings and spanned a thousand years.
A translation of a fragment recovered from the ruins of Speur Dún:
‘The Breaking of the Hand of Keos’ from the Book of Terra, translation by Sodar Weir