"Summer, honey, buzzing sunshine Time to ready harvest's best. But the question we should answer: What could be the real harvest?"
(The Seer Akilia)
"Since the present is so mutable, the past is just one possibility and of no great concern, whilst the future is an infinite confusion of possibilities."
(an Invisible Stalker, manifested as The Grand Master of the Conclave of the Central Node)
"If it were within our power, Beyond the reach of slavish pride. To no longer harbour grievances Behind the mask's friendly facade. We would welcome the responsibility Like a long lost friend, And re-establish laughter, In Anarea once again. For time has imprisoned us, In the order of our years, In the discipline of our ways, And in the passing of momentary stillness, We can view the Chaos in motion, And the subsequent collision of fools, Well versed in the subtle art of deception."
(Jarfaz of Vavistor)
"Chaos speaks with many voices, Often leaving crazy choices. Dreaming on a fallen star, Discovering who we are. Dream well my friends, Tomorrow is another day. Let us see what it portends!"
(Darion of Hulmo)
Lazy Summer days draw to a close. There is a slight chill to the air in the morning. Green leaves are turning brown. Fruits ripen on the trees. AESTAS moves South now. She always lingers there, where the climate is warmer, and AUTUMNUS is slower to arrive.
She pauses in Taur Galen: Greenwood the Great, full of Summer's growth, but soon to die and fall away. In a woodland glade She sits Herself down by a stream. The clouds part and a shaft of sunlight slices through the still air. In the shade of the trees insects buzz and birds screech, and in the cool clear water the fish bask.
It has been a good Summer. Last year much damage was done by the Ayekal: Fire, Pestilence and Famine. That Summer was hot and dry, and the smell of plague was in the air. Autumn produced a poor harvest, and Winter hit hard. Spring came late, but began the work of regeneration that She, Summer, has now brought to fruition. Autumn this year will receive a good harvest. As She trails Her hand lazily through the water, AESTAS feels satisfied.
The people have done their bit too. In the Kingdom of the North, the Bandit Kingdom, and the Western and Northern Provinces of Valdrea they have been rebuilding their farms and homes after the damage done by war, plague and famine. Summer has been good for them, but what pleases AESTAS is a job well done. What the people make of it is their own affair.
As She rests, She sings a happy song:
"Sing a song for Summer. Tell your girl you love her. Lie back in the sunlight. Everything will be alright. Open up your heart. Today will be the start."
Far across the desolate wilderness to the North West of the Kingdom of the North, beyond the Garf Valley, and between the Ice Mountains and the Great North West Forest, lies the citadel of Vaken on the Glacier Lake. This lonely outpost is almost 1500 miles from Grinen, but last year the Lord Protector Harrek Dragonhelm, Duke of Grinen identified it as the base from which were mounted the Evil attacks on the Temple of Heaven on Earth procession in Garf Lea, and on Grinen itself, in the Year 2500. Vaken guards the exit from a Hell-Well: a tunnel through which the armies of orcs, and worse, came up from the Underworld. From there they marched across the wilderness to a staging post at the camp of Tarost, in a patch of wasteland by the Garf Valley. It was from Tarost that the Evils launched their attacks through the forests which were so crucial in shaping the present political situation, both divine and human.
Last year Harrek engaged the Evil guardians of Vaken in some inconclusive adventurer skirmishing, which led to some unpleasant retaliation against him in Grinen later in the year. He also suspected them of involvement in the Dark Forest affair last Winter. This year he determined to deal with them properly.
As soon as the Kingdom had recovered from the harsh winter, and the men of the North had the opportunity to plant their crops and rebuild their farms in the spring, Harrek therefore raised the levies. He also quietly sent out word through the Temples and his contacts in the Empire that he was mounting an expeditionary force against the Evils in the North West, and that he was particularly keen to recruit adventurers to support the army. Thus by 1 Jerem, when the main force left Grinen, he had raised an army of some 22,000 men and over 250 adventurers and clerics.
They marched to the town of Ubor at the North Western frontier of his Duchy, then through the forest and across the wilderness to the valley of the River Garf. Until enemy forces were encountered, the adventurer parties were employed mostly for scouting, and taking out the few small bands of orcs, goblins or monsters that were located.
On 3 Oscow the army reached Tarost. The camp had been abandoned, though there were signs of recent occupation. They left a small rearguard of 500 cavalrymen from Castle Aptal to secure the place and protect their supply line, and continued North West on 5 Oscow, in pursuit of a retreating Evil force, which their scouts put at a couple of thousand orcs.
They were now marching along the Eastern fringes of the Great Forest, into which a number of their quarry deserted, only to be tracked down by Harrek's druidic scouts, whilst Wind Walkers and cavalry harried the rest of the retreating Evils. There appeared to be a few Magic Users amongst the enemy, but no Balrogs or Nazgûl-mounted adventurers.
On 22 Oscow they engaged the main body of the retreating Evils; now no more than a thousand orcs, but holed up in a strong defensive position. After some initial difficulty, Harrek personally led an attack which destroyed the Evil resistance, and the encounter turned into a slaughter, as the men of the North took revenge for the damage done to their homes in past attacks.
After a further long march they reached the Glacier Lake on 18 Estender. In other circumstances this would have been a beautiful spot to rest after a long journey. Between forest and tundra, and dotted with wooded islands, the clear cold water reflected a sky of palest blue. Here the wilderness became a grassy moorland, leading down to the lake, on the shore of which squatted a wooden pallisade, surrounded by a moat. This was Vaken. The nearby forest had been ravaged to fortify it, and a pall of smoke from various fires hung over it in the still air, in which circled the Nazgûl and Balrogs.
Harrek laid siege, but Vaken was being resupplied through the Hell-Well, whilst their own supply line was very extended. He attempted an initial assault on 21 Estender, which was repulsed. The battle now became a struggle between both sides' adventurers, and Balrogs, as Harrek attempted to close the Hell-Well. There was daily (and nightly) adventurer skirmishing. The Northeners made successful raids on 26 Estender, 3 Lastra, and 5 Lastra (when a bomb was exploded in the Hell-Well). But on 7 Lastra the Evils exploded a retaliatory bomb in the Northern camp, and on the 8th they made a sally which broke and routed part of the Northern army. The danger was only averted when Harrek personally rallied the demoralised Northeners.
That was the turning point. On 11 Lastra a fresh assault spearheaded by the Northern berserkers broke into the town, and carried the siege. Most of the surviving major Evils either died fighting, or retreated down the Hell-Well, destroying it behind them. The remaining orcs were hunted down and put to the sword. Harrek secured and garrisoned the town, and the rest of the army headed home. They should return to Grinen mid-Tekrim.
As they go, they sing a marching song:
"We are the Northern levy. Our axes are extremely heavy! Harrek led us into battle. The orcs they died just like cattle!"
Maybe it never really happened, Mirwen tells herself as she stumbles along the path through the woods. Maybe it was just a bad dream. They were all so happy in their quiet little village in the midst of the Greenwood. Nothing bad ever happened there. In fact, nothing much ever happened at all.
But this evening all that changed. Families were just getting ready for their evening meals, many of them outside their huts in the cool shade of the evening. Most of the young men were down by the stream, having a few beers after a game of bat and ball. All the weapons were stowed away in the huts. It was the start of another leisurely Summer's evening; no different from many others.
It had just got dark when the raiders struck. They just burst out of the woods: men on horses, and a shouting band of goblins.
The men were overwhelmed before they could defend themselves properly, the huts were torched, and then the attackers turned their attentions to the women and children. Mirwen was just a girl of twelve summers. Elf children mature more slowly than their human counterparts, and theirs is a sensitive race. She was completely unprepared for the horrors that followed.
Mirwen approaches the stream, and AESTAS melts away into a clump of irises. But there is no need for such caution, as the weeping elf girl is oblivious to anything but her grief. She pauses at the water's edge to look down at a pool where she played only yesterday. Here she can wash away her shame. Summer looks on impassively. The seasons go by, come what may.
As Mirwen prepares to drown herself, she sings a song of lamentation:
"White her dress as the mistletoe Larded all with sweet flowers, Which bewept to the grave did not go, With true-love showers."
Your plots are requested for Autumn 2502.
© P.R. Wild, 13 March 1994
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