Tales of the World of the 7 gods
by
Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly
Copyright 6178 SC
Stories:
A Lost Child on the Streets of Camaar
The thieves of Upper Gralt
Life in Upper Gralt
Stuck in Erat
The Bronze Falcon
Darine Life
Daughter of the Barrens
A proud son of Sendaria
Jantie's Amazement
A Lost Child on the Streets of Camaar
Dulliam
was 7. 7, alone, hungry and thirsty, living by the canals of
the city of Camaar in the Kingdom of Sendaria, coping as well as he
could. He was a bright young child, so his parent’s had
told him many times. They had died, recently, in the house fire
which had left him stranded. Nobody had been willing to take
him in, and he had no relatives, so he ended up down by the canals
near the wharves of the city, fishing with the rod he’d had to
steal, and getting by as best he could.
His best friend,
street rat, was 12 and had lived on the wharves as long as he could
remember. He had been looked after for a while in his younger
years by the old man Druknar, who had been a vagrant wandering around
through Sendaria most of his days. But Druknar had died and
since then street rat, who had no other name, had lived on the dirty
streets of Camaar.
And now they were forming a team –
a thieving team – and becoming quite adroit at their work.
*
* *
‘Now, as soon as he goes to the back of the
store, sneak in and grab the money bag. He is working alone
today, and I am sure he won’t suspect anything. He always
goes out for a drink near the end of the day. I have watched
him for weeks now.’
Dulliam took in all these words of
advice from Street Rat and, watching the fishmonger, was ready for
his latest act of thievery. True to Street Rat’s words,
the fishmonger soon wandered out the back of his store, apparently to
indulge in his favourite beverage. Dulliam looked to the left
and right and quietly stole into the store and climbed over the
counter. He reached under the counter, pulled out the money
bag, and peered inside. Full of coins – they would be
rich. He looked out at Street Rat, raised the bag to show him,
and Street Rat yelled ‘Now hurry, get out of there.’
Yet, as Dulliam began climbing again over the counter, the
strong hands of the fishmonger grabbed him, called him a little
larrikin, and took him to the back room. ‘You will be in
the gaol for a while, my young thief. Whatever came into you to
steal my money? Haven’t your parent’s taught you
anything?’ But Dulliam remained silent. The
fishmonger, not really wanting to report the lad, but not knowing
what else to do, collected his coat, and closed the store, dragging
the lad to the local magistrate’s office. He would let
the authorities deal with this little thief, it was their job after
all.
* * *
‘So, lord Garion, as you
can see Sendarian Justice has become ever more effective since my
reforms.’
Garion, looking through the report that King
Fulrach had given him to briefly examine, nodded slowly. ‘Yes,
I can see that Fulrach. Crime is down in many sectors. You
have done well, it seems.’
‘It is all about
having a strong hand of justice. It is what is required to run
a kingdom.’
‘Yet mercy must not be
lacking.’
‘It is as you say,’ responded
Fulrach. ‘Well, shall we visit the magistrate then?
Since we have come to Camaar we may as well sit in on a
judgement, and you can see for yourself how effective Sendarian
Justice has become.
‘Very well,’ responded
Garion, eager to see Fulrach’s reforms at work firsthand.
*
* *
Dulliam looked up at the impressive figure of the
magistrate, awaiting his judgement.
‘Your crime is
great, child. Yet you are still quite young. My judgement
is that you will spend the rest of your youth, until adulthood, in
the juvenile detention centre of Camaar. There you will learn
the right way.’ Dulliam just nodded, and as the guard
took him away he made no protest. At least he would be fed and
have a home.
In the gallery, looking on, Garion motioned
to Fulrach. ‘Can I speak with that lad? I want to
ask him some questions.’
‘As you wish,’
responded the King
Coming into a private chamber,
Dulliam was puzzled. The chamber was very expensive looking,
and he wondered why he should be brought to such a place. Suddenly
the door opened and an impressive looking man dressed in fine clothes
entered the room, coming to sit down next to him.
‘Tell
me, young Dulliam, where have you come from? They have been
unable to locate your parent’s, apparently.’
Dulliam,
though, remained silent. He had not spoken yet of his parents,
and refused all questioning. Garion, sensing the child might be
an orphan, softened his voice. ‘Are your parent’s
gone from you? Gone to the grave? You can tell me
Dulliam. I am only here to help you.’
Dulliam,
looking up at the kind figure, finally nodded.
Garion looked
at the child, a spirit of pity and compassion suddenly coming over
him, and just then he knew exactly what request he wanted to make of
Fulrach.
* * *
As the chariot sped along
the Great Northern Road, Dulliam looked out excitedly at the scenery.
He was now off on a new adventure, a new life, rescued by the
man called Garion. He did not know what the future held, or
where he would be this time next week, but it was better than living
on the canals of Camaar, or stuck in a juvenile detention centre.
And looking up at the man Garion seated next to him Dulliam
sensed he had just begun a new destiny, a new life, and things would
never be quite the same again.
The End
The
Thieves of Upper Gralt
Blindrak
and Justogo were incompetent thieves on a good day. They had
been the bane of the baron of Upper Gralt’s Marshall for many a
year, but today, so they told each other, the plot couldn’t
fail. They would steal pies – pies from Fendak the baker
– and feed themselves on them for a solid month.
Fendak
had gained a reputation as Upper Gralt’s finest baker, one in a
long family line of traditional bakers, and their store had been in
business for centuries. But when Fendak returned from a lunch
break just over the road at the local tavern to find that morning’s
assortment of pies no longer staying warm on top of the oven, he
suspected foul play. Who had stolen his pies?
Ringtack
the local Marshall had a number of likely suspects, and Blindrak and
Justogo’s names were mentioned amongst them, but proving the
case would be difficult.
It
was then an old fellow, who had visited Fendak from time to time,
arrived on the scene, gravely disappointed to not find any more pies
for an afternoon snack. When Fendak had declared the pies had
been stolen, the old wizard Beldin, beside himself with desire for
yet another of those delicious Graltian pies, tried his own trade to
find the culprits – magic.
He
took out a wand, waved it at the top of the oven and, the Marshall
and the Baker following, they left the bakery and trudged half way
across town to a second rate doss house, were, upon the marshal
bursting through one of the room doors on the first level, they found
two sleeping thieves, and a cupboard full of pies.
Well,
Beldin was most pleased, was rewarded with a number of the pies for
his diligent service, and Blindrak and Justogo found themselves, yet
again, in the custody of the Marshall of Upper Gralt.
Later
on, reflecting on their briefly lived good fortune, Justogo could
only say to Blindrak, well at least we won’t need to eat for a
week or so, to which Blindrak glumly nodded, before burping on the
recently digested meal of chicken and vegetable pies.
The End
Life in Upper Gralt
Fendak
was a simple Sendarian. A life of remarkable normalcy, really,
apart from the grand day he, as a youth in his father’s
service, had been presented to King Fulrach who had been touring the
kingdom. But while the King had remarked that the pastries of
the finest baker of Upper Gralt were truly tasty, and had wondered
who had made such delicacies, he had not taken a great deal of
interest when Fendak himself was presented. But it had been a
big deal for Fendak, and he had informed all and sundry for many
years since of his marvellous meeting with the noble monarch.
These
days, instead, he delighted in his tasty pastries, as his substantial
girth truly testified to. But Fendak didn’t care.
Upper
Gralt was in the heart of Sendaria, not far from Erat. Not a
great deal happened in this village. But it didn’t need
to as far as Fendak was concerned. He liked the simple, basic
life, and the things of glory which the Overlord of the West, Lord
Belgarion, had pursued in his life – well such things were for
Pawns of Prophecy, not for the likes of simple old Fendak.
One
morning, rising early for the baking, an old man appeared at the
front of the store, eager to be let in. Fendak always took a
sale when he could, as his father had trained him for many long years
to make as much money as he could, so answered the request of the old
man for admittance into the store.
The
old man inspected the pastries, and suddenly another one appeared,
seeming similar in many ways, but a hunchback.
‘Well,
Beldin. What shall it be? This bakery has made fine food
for centuries, a well established family tradition I believe.’
‘Yes
sir,’ interrupted Fendak. ‘Our family has run this
bakery for well over 500 years. We are proud of our
tradition.’
‘Then
the food must be good,’ commented the hunchbacked Beldin. ‘I
will take you at your word Belgarath. Anything will do.’
The
man, apparently named Belgarath, chose two pies, paid for them, and
the two of them, sitting out on the front of the store, consumed
their pies hastily.
Fendak,
getting back to work, thought on his life. It really was a
simple life, really. Feeding hungry old men. It would be
something, though, if some grand figure of the West, someone like old
King Fulrach, came and dined at his bakery some time. It would
indeed be something. But Upper Gralt was not exactly on the hit
list for the finery of the West after all, was it? No, of
course not, thought Fendak to himself, and got back to his work, the
two men out the front of the bakery finishing off their tasty pies.
The End
Stuck in Erat
Jennavere
was a regular type of young lady. Full of dreams about boys,
fantasies of being the bell of the Erat society scene, hopes of
marrying prince charming but, despite her best wishes, still stuck in
the most lowly of occupations as being a washer woman to bring home
finances for her often hungry family. She had 3 brothers, 3
sisters, an ancient and sick father who could no longer work, and a
mother who was always beside herself with her worries. It
seemed for young Jennavere that she was stuck – stuck here in
Erat in the nation of Sendaria – destined to live out her life
as a washer woman, loved by none, providing for her siblings
welfare.
And then one day something changed.
And
old and ancient man, wrinkled beyond belief, showed up at the laundry
were she slaved away, muttering something about the frustrations of
being alive again. She asked him his name and wether he had
washing to do. He replied that he was the wizard Belsambar and,
yes, he did have some washing for her to take care of.
As
she sat there the old man began muttering on about his once past life
as a wizard of glory from the Vale of Aldur, and she just smiled at
his senility. A wizard indeed.
She continued
washing away, doing her work, when he said something she never
forgot. ‘And what do you want, dear Jennavere? Of
all the things you could wish in life, what do you wish for the
most?’
She looked at him, sighed, and responded. ‘Oh,
I don’t know. In the end I guess I am content with my lot
in life. Certainly, it’s not an easy life, but I know I
am doing the right thing sticking by my family and caring for my
elderly father. Really, I couldn’t wish for anything
apart from his good health and the family’s prosperity.’
The
wizard nodded knowingly. He understood human dilemma.
‘Very
well. I shall consult with Aldur, and you shall have your
wishes come true.’
She handed him his briefs and coat,
smiled. ‘Be sure to say hello from me.’
He
nodded, got to his feet, and meandered away.
‘What a
strange old man,’ she thought to herself.
The
thing is, it didn’t happen suddenly, but gradually over the
next few months and year’s things began to improve in the life
of Jennavere. Against all hope her father simply got better and
went back to work at his old firm. His mother’s attitude
improved, and her two eldest brothers found very good employment with
a local merchant. And all of a sudden they had good finances
and were even considering moving to a better part of town.
In
fact, they did so, and her dreams started coming true. She met
prince charming at an uptown boutique store, who invited her to the
Earl of Erat’s next ball. He gave her a lump sum for a
pretty dress and her mother fussed over her no end the night before
the ball.
She became the toast of the town, and married
her prince charming. And the life of the washer woman was
forgotten forever.
Then, later, an old man wandered
into a familiar laundry, looked at a desperate washerwoman, and said
‘Share me your woes, dear lady.’ And the rest, as
they say, is history.
The End
The
Bronze Falcon
From the Life of Garion
(From the
‘Beloreon’ era - between the ‘Belgariad’
and the ‘Malloreon’)
Garion
surveyed the forest. He knew there were rabbits in large
quantity and, suddenly, spying one, he released his Falcon
‘Bronzeclaw’ and it flew swiftly, cornered the frightened
creature, and nabbed it, returning to Garion.
He petted
Bronzeclaw, making that familiar noise with his throat which seemed
to make the bird happy. He fed it some meat, small enough
chunks to pass the ring around its throat, and returned to his party.
He’d had enough hunting for the day.
As
Overlord of the West, slayer of Torak, Garion had a fearsome
reputation amongst the people of the Isle of the Winds. This
week he was inland, staying at a lodge of respectable elder of the
land, enjoying his Kingship. They had been out hunting for a
while and ‘Durant’, the elder, had provided a Falcon for
Garion, sharing the noise which the Falcon responded to well. And
he had taken an instant liking to ‘Bronzeclaw’, for she
was magnificent.
These were quiet days, now, in the time
of the west. It seems as if a climax of millennia of
expectations had been reached, and now a quite aftermath followed.
But, still, there was something in Garion’s heart which
told him his adventures were not quite finished with yet. Not
just yet.
As they returned to the lodge he petted his
bird. Hunting with a bird was, of course, a traditional role of
the King. And he tried his best to live up to his Kingly
expectations. The people needed a King of the people, so his
grandfather Belgarath reminded him. Someone after their own
heart. And Garion tried his best to live up to his
grandfather’s expectations, even if at times he felt himself
lacking.
Ce’Nedra was always a handful, and had
been ever more unfathomable of late, moaning about this and that.
But such were a woman’s ways, and perhaps especially a
Tolnedran woman’s.
He looked at his falcon.
Perhaps the Falcon had concerns, as all creatures likely did.
Worrying about its meals, its mates. Perhaps they were
its concerns. But, for Garion, he wondered could the life of a
Bronze Falcon truly be as complicated as King of the West? He
truly wondered that indeed.
The End
Darine Life
Karnik was a citizen of Sendaria, living in the city of Darine on the gulf of Cherek. He was a simple man, a fisherman. And he lived a simple life and had simple ways. He worked in the afternoons bringing in the fish from the gulf, because his permit only permitted him afternoon fishing, not the morning allotment, which was reserved for those of the Darine Fishing Guild, which he had been barred entrance to for grave violations of procedures in younger years. As such, his harvest was not always as good as those of the morning, but his family got by none the less. Karnik had two daughters, strong daughters, who were nearly ready to come out fishing with him, and a lame son, whose legs didn't work properly. Dunkar was the pride of Karnik's life, regardless, as the lad showed competency in scholarly pursuits, and in the chair with wheels the engineering school of Darine had provided for Dunkar, upon the lad's own design, he managed to get around somwhat. He wanted to work on the Darine council, so he maintained. Even a cripple can have a future, Karnik thought to himself, if he didn't give up hope.
Karnik's two daughters were Estla and Jandy. They were the pride of his life, but his wife loved them with all her heart. His wife maintained the family home, a pretty lady, with a good figure still, despite her three children, and Karnik thanked the gods of the Alorns for providing him with such a good wife.
One morning, Karnik was scrubbing off barnacles from the bottom of his fishing boat, which had been raised up on land, and his daughter Estla was busy working with him.
'Father. One day, when I am working with you, will I be able to register with the guild? Perhaps they might accept me.'
'Only if you are married to another registered man,' replied Karnik. 'What, have you met someone in those outings you and your sister go to?'
Estla remained silent.
'You know, father, I have never minded this work. Since 12 when you brought me in, I have worked faithfully with you.'
'And I have appreciated it,' he responded. 'Would be lost without you both, especially as Dunkar can not involve himself, may the gods have mercy on him.'
'Yes,' she replied. 'But, if I were to ever, you know, find someone. And was led elsewhere, you would cope wouldn't you?'
He looked at her, and softened. 'Sendaria is a busy nation, with lots of growing enterprises. If you find a man with a prospering trade, you have my blessing.'
'Thank you father,' she said, and continued on with their hard work.
'Father. Do you ever wonder if King Belgarion will visit Darine? We have been promised a visit for many years now.'
'I am sure the king is busy enough,' responded Karnik. 'Don't go losing yourself in fantasies of royalty, daughter. Ours is a simple life.'
'Yes,' she replied. 'But wouldn't it be wonderful. To live in Riva and dine with Kings and Queens. All the world at your disposal, and everything you could ever want.'
'And mad god's called Torak ready to slay you at a moment's notice,' chided Karnik.
'Yes father,' she responded, and returned to her work.
After a while she began speaking again.
'Imagine being a wizard. Like Belgarath. With all that power, and all those spells. It would be amazing. Doing magic. Amazing.'
'And you would live alone in an ivory tower in Algaria, and the birds would be your only company,' responded Karnik. 'Now stop this daydreaming, and get back to work.'
'Yes father,' she replied sombrely.
After a while though, yet again.
'Imagine being the serpent Queen of Nyissa. Everyone would fear you and you could have all that power and fame.'
Karnik had had enough.
'Imagine beink Karnik fisherman of Darine. With the most airy fairy daughters in all the world, who can NEVER keep their minds on their job.'
Estla giggled. 'Sorry father. I'll get to work.'
But after a while.
'Imagine........'
But as soon as she spoke, her father bellowed 'ESSTTLAAA!'
Not a peep she made the rest of the morning, and looked softly at her father all the time because of it.
And so life passed on in Darine, and none of the citizens of Sendaria were wiser to the imaginations of Estla, daughter of Karnik. None at all.
The End
Daughter of the Barrens
Zebna Sheldath lived in the Barrens in north-west Mallorea, away from civilization, in desolate world of frugal living and isolationism. But that is how her father liked it. He was in exile from Sendaria, and had crossed the land bridge 20 years ago with his young family, but gone north, and not south, and found a somewhat less barren part of the barrens, with a small stream, and some wild goats. They had gathered the goats, and had regular milk, and with the seed he had brought, sowed potatoes and pumpkins and other vegetables, and, as time passed, lived on goat's milk, cheese, meat and whatever vegetables grew in their harsh climate. It was cold in winter, very cold, but Zebna didn't mind. She was used to that now. There was not a boy to marry in all the world, of course, and at 25 she was a young maiden with no prospects. Bur father had promised, one day, one day he would venture down south to Mallorea proper and find a husband for his daughter, one who didn't mind the barrens, and the extremes of life.
Zebna made string from goats hide, and one of her jobs was to use that string and sow goat's hides together to make clothing and bedding and footwear. She was good at it after many years, and while, in many ways she felt angry at her father, she kept that anger in check, and prayed to Ul, which the family called their own god, and asked him to forgive her for her abrupt attitude towards her dad. She was sure he did.
And then, one day, they walked in. Two vagrant sort of looking fellas, one younger, and one older, and they said they had come to judge Zebna, for they were judges of Ul.
'My daughter is innocent. She has not known a man,' said Zebna's father.
The old man looked at the man, and nodded. 'But it is her soul we want to look at. Let her speak.'
Zebna was cautious. 'I. I am 25. I have not known a man. But I have not known anything in this forsaken place we call home. I never have. I am bitter. In my heart I am bitter at my parents, but I have finally come to accept that this is life. That this is my lot in it all. And that dad will find my husband from Mallorea, but even then, I will never leave this place.'
The old man looked at her, but it was the younger who spoke.
'You have spoken your heart. Are you angry at your father?'
Zebna nodded.
'But can you forgive him?' asked the young man.
Zebna looked at her father and softened. 'I love my father. You must know that. With all my heart. And while this life is too much, one might think for any girl from Sendaria, I accept the fate the gods have given us, and will endure it to the end.'
The two doomsayers consulted.
'You are a worthy daughter of your father,' said the old man. 'He is rightly proud of you, as I can tell he is.'
'Thank you,' said Zebna.
They left then, and as the year passed, and her father returned from the south with a competent man of working abilities, but a little thick, she did not complain. He was attractive enough, and pledged his undying love.
And, as the years passed, and Zebna had her own family, she remembered her judgement, and remembered that, in an impossible world of gods and strange destinies, even Zebna Sheldath must walk the pathway given to her.
The End
A Proud Son of Sendaria
‘And
you, Jacon. What do you think of Sendaria’s role in the
world?’
Jacon was an intelligent young 18 year old
Sendarian, hailing from Erat, but now studying at Camaar.
‘I
think Sendaria has much to offer the world, Hemlyn. Our wines
are universally acknowledged as the best the west has to offer. We
have fruit and vegetables found nowhere else, and our bakers are
amongst the finest there is. But, I feel, our destiny is in
‘Palagon’. I feel if we promote our premiere sport
to the world, as we have been gradually doing, Sendarian fame will
last forever. Rumour has it that even King Garion in his youth
at Faldor’s farm played a variant of Palagon while it was in
its younger years of developments.’
‘I am not
sure if Palagon stretches back that many centuries, Jacon, but
possibly. Never the less, you have answered well.’
Jacon
sat there in his university class, pleased at himself. He had
answered well, and thought he had made a positive
contribution.
Later on, after class, he sat in the
library doing his studies and opposite him sat down a girl, about 19,
with a book on ancient legends. It had a picture of King Garion
in his prime on it, and Jacon was instantly interested.
‘What
are you looking up,’ he asked the girl.
‘Oh,
nothing in particular. Just taking a break from my regular
studies.’
‘I like the picture of King Garion on
the cover.’
She turned to it. Yes. Yes, it
is a good one. But I am one of those who wonder, you know, if
he will ever return from the far reaches of Zhadora.’
‘Eventually,
I think,’ responded Jacon. ‘But the west is
prospering these days under the Royal Family of Riva, and while the
ancient patriarchs are gone from us yet to return, we are sufficing.
We are doing well.’
‘Yes. Yes we
are,’ she responded. My name is Jantie. What is
your name?’
‘Jacon.’
‘Oh,
really. That is my brother’s name as well.’
‘Small
world,’ he responded.
They continued chatting
about this and that and Jacon found himself making a new friend.
Always a good thing, he thought to himself.
Outside
the world of Camaar and Sendaria continued on, as it had done so for
many ages, going through its life and progress in both cultural and
technological advances. It was a new world Sendaria was
embracing, a world of continuing advances in science, and great
advances in economics and industry. It was a brave new world in
many ways, and a world of great hope and opportunity for a proud
young Sendarian such as Jacon, son of Jaldo.
The End
Jantie's Amazement
'What is it?' asked Jantie.
'It's an ancient artefact,' said Jacon, about the orb which he was holding.
'It's like the orb,' she said. 'King Belgarion's orb.'
'It's not the same,' said Jacon. 'I was given it. By an old man. A man with an ancient looking face in many ways, but he was only about 60. Said his name was Beldin, and I had been entrusted to be the 'Gatherer'.'
'Gatherer? Of what?'
'I don't know, Jantie. But he also said that this was one of 70 brothers and sisters. That's what he called them. And that many were supposedly good, and some evil, and some neither good nor bad. They were special stones, so he said. And the future of the world is found in them.'
'Amazing,' said Jandie. 'What are you going to do with it?'
'I don't know. But I will keep it. Beldin said he would return to visit me again in a while, and would give me further information on what I am supposed to do with this. It could be fantastic whatever it is.'
Jantie touched his shoulder. 'You don't think you could be getting into something you can't get out of. Look at all the perils King Belgarion went through. He had to fight wars and, after all was done, still kill a god to find peace. With something like that in your life, Jacon, you will never find any rest.'
'But how can we escape our destiny?' asked the youth.
'I don't know,' she repsonded.
'Nor do I,' he said fearfully.
Jacon looked at the orb all that week as he went about his last year's studies at Camaar University. He anxiously waited for Beldin, who did not yet show, and as he studied the orb, and grew familiar with it, he felt this strange sense of comfort in its presence. Like, somewhere inside his head, it was talking to him, making friends with him, letting him know he was trusted and valued. But how could that be? How could something as impossible as that ever really happen? He studied the orb, and continued on his studies, and, as he finished his year, and gained his degree, he made his farewells to Jantie, and promised to visit her soon enough, as he made his way back to his home of Erat.
Yet the orb was always on his mind, and as he found suitable work in Erat, his parents being rightly proud of him, he could sense, in his heart, there was a destiny at work. Some strange new destiny, which involved his own special orb, and a fight between the powers which be which would shape Sendaria and the world for all time to come.
The End