May,Julian - Trillium 1 - Black Trillium

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Black Trillium by Marion

Zimmer Bradley, Julian

May and Andre Norton

PROLOGUE

From the Peninsular Chronicle

Of Lampiar, Late Savant of Labornok

In the Eighth Hundred after those of Ruwenda came to rule over the swamp

wilderness called the Mazy Mire (though not completely, for they never mastered

the intractable Oddlings), legend and history both awoke to record one of those

great changes which now and then alter the very balance of the world.

The civilized nations of the Peninsula —most especially we of neighboring

Labornok — looked upon the wetland plateau of Ruwenda as a frustrating and

vexing backwater, seeming to exist merely as a thorn in the flesh of more

energetic and progressive peoples. In truth, Ruwenda was not at all a properly

organized kingdom, owing to its failure to establish suzerainty over the peculiar

aborigines dwelling within its claimed borders. Instead, the Ruwendian kings

complaisantly allowed lawless enclaves of these so-called Oddlings to persist,

offtimes to the detriment of their legitimate subjects and the general peace and

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good order of the realm.

Of these aboriginal tribes, the bog-trotting little Nyssomu and the closely related

but more aloof Uisgu (quite nonhuman and therefore clearly designed by Nature

to serve their betters) were dealt with by both the crown and the merchant class of

Ruwenda as putative equals, although no vows of fealty were ever demanded of

them. Indeed, certain groups of Nyssomu were frequent visitors to the famed

Ruwenda Citadel, and a few of the uncouth beings were actually accepted as

upper servants of the royal court!

Two other Oddling tribes, the mountain-loving Vispi and the half-civilized

Wyvilo of the southern rainforests, were inhospitable to humankind but deigned to

trade with Ruwendian merchants on a regular basis. On the other hand, the

shadowy Glismak, whose jungle haunts bordered those of the Wyvilo, were at this

time seldom encountered by humans. They were vicious savages who delighted in

the massacre of their Oddling neighbors. The last and largest tribe of Oddlings,

the abominable Skritek, also called the Drowners, lived in most parts of the

swamp, but were particularly numerous in the vast and noisome marshlands south

of Ruwenda Citadel, as well as the Thorny Hell situated in the north-central

region. These fiends of the Mazy Mire were notorious waylayers of caravans and

attackers of isolated human manors and homesteads, either drowning their victims

or torturing them with unspeakable brutality before consigning them to death in

the quick-mires. Yet king followed king on the throne of Ruwenda, making no

attempt to clear the land of that menace.

It was often whispered that the wetland rot had weakened both the minds and

bodies of the human Ruwendians. Their rulers were a happy-go-lucky lot, utter

strangers to proper feudal discipline. When the scholarly but obstinate Krain III

ascended the throne, his manifest shortsightedness in dealing with his neighbor

nations made it clear that the time was approaching when more enlightened and

progressive methods would have to be applied to a festering situation, over which

our own great kingdom of Labornok had stewed for years.

The unfortunate fact was that Labornok needed what these feckless and inefficient

neighbors had to offer in trade. Our woodlands having long since been cut down

and converted into farmland, we were dependent upon the Ruwendian rainforests

not only for ship timber to sustain our thriving maritime commerce, but also for

fine woods to enhance and furnish the stately buildings at Derorguila. Also, by a

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heartless caprice of nature, the Labornoki slopes of the impenetrable Ohogan

Mountains were virtually barren of useful minerals; while the Ruwendian side of

the range contained lodes of gold and platinum, as well as many kinds of valuable

gemstones, which were scoured out by the torrents and deposited here and there in

the mountains. The precious metals and crystals were haphazardly gathered by the

Vispi Oddlings, who traded them to the Uisgu; and eventually they passed into the

hands of the human Ruwendians. Other trade goods of the perverse little kingdom

included valuable medicinal swamp herbs and kitchen spices, worrarn pelts and

fedok skins, and certain curious ancient artifacts which the Oddlings procured

from ruined cities deep in the most inaccessible reaches of the Mires.

Even in the best of times, commerce between Labornok and Ruwenda was a

frustrating — occasionally perilous — business. More than a few of our glorious

kings, champing on the regal mustaches in fury over some piece of Ruwendian

insolence, had demanded that our generals devise a scheme for conquering the

smaller nation. But it is difficult to invade a country to which there is only one

door — the steep and narrow Vispir Pass through the Ohogans, guarded by well-

placed Ruwendian forts. Those Labornoki kings of melancholy memory who

made the attempt did not return alive.

Surviving members of their defeated armies told tales of demonic freezing fogs,

whirlwinds from which inhuman eyes seemed to glare, unseasonable mountain

storms with snow, sleet, and hail, monstrous rock slides, fulminating murrains that

struck down the war-fronials, and other calamities that had assailed them. It

seemed almost as though supernatural forces were arrayed in opposition to the

invasions. But even if the guardposts in the pass could have been taken, the

sodden morass beyond presented an even more formidable obstacle to an invading

force.

As every Labornoki Master-Trader knew only too well.

This audacious and free-wheeling guild of merchants, which passed its franchise

and certain life-protecting incantations from father to son, included the only

citizens of our kingdom who knew the secret route into the heart of Ruwenda. It

was suspected by more than one Labornoki general, infuriated and frustrated in

futile attempts to pry coherent directions or even a useful map out of the

uncooperative Masters, that dark magic had been evoked to lock their lips during

questioning. Eventually, however, the route would be revealed through the craft of

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the mighty sorcerer Orogastus, about whom more anon. But in earlier days the

Masters kept their secret well, and enjoyed not only a prosperous monopoly but

also a sizable measure of political power.

A typical caravan led by four Master-Traders was small, consisting of no more

than twenty volumnial drawn wagons and perhaps fifty men. After giving the hill-

fort commanders certain passwords, the Masters would lead the wagon-train into

the Mire along an unmarked and treacherous elevated roadway. Only a few

isolated places between the mountainous borderlands and the Ruwenda Citadel

two hundred leagues hence were blessed with solid, unquakable land. The largest

dry region, lying east of the Trade Road, was the Dylex Country, where polders or

diked and drained fields contained well-cultivated farms, pastures, and scattered

townships. Virk, the largest of these, engaged in the simple refining of minerals

brought in by the Uisgu or Nyssomu Oddlings and was a secondary center of the

Ruwenda gem and precious metal trade. By far the greater portion of this

commerce, however, took place at the Citadel, the capital of Ruwenda, which

perched upon a sizable rock dome upthrust in the midst of the Mazy Mire.

Once at the Citadel, Master-Traders paid the royal road-tax. (They also paid a

capriciously variable wholesale goods tax upon departure, one of the great sore

points in Ruwendian-Labornoki relations.) Then they were free to sell their own

merchandise in the great Citadel Market, after which they might proceed to

commodity exchanges dealing in minerals or timber. The latter was obtained by

Ruwendian agents from the forest-dwelling Wyvilo Oddlings. Masters in search

of more exotic trade goods would travel some one hundred leagues further, via

Ruwendian punt or flatboat, up the sluggish Lower Mutar River to its confluence

with the Vispar, where lay the ruined city of Trevista — and in its plazas, the

fabulous trading fairs of the swamp Oddlings. These fairs were held only during

the dry seasons, since the monsoons roaring up from the Southern Sea otherwise

made passage of the bogland watercourses impossible. Only the Oddlings

ventured about the Mazy Mire then, by ways they knew and methods they had

perfected many hundreds ago.

Trevista remains one of the great mysteries of our Peninsula. It is of unimaginable

age, and breathtakingly beautiful even in its present state of near-total

dilapidation. The labyrinthine canals, crumbling bridges, and majestic ruined

buildings are overgrown with a profusion of exquisite jungle flowers. Enough of

the original urban design remains to demonstrate that Trevista's builders possessed

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a sophistication and a technical expertise far above that of the most advanced

Peninsular civilization.

There is speculation by those interested in such matters that most of Ruwenda was

once a huge glacier-fed lake dotted with islands that are now mere elevations in

the swamp. Many of these are known to be crowned by similar ruins. Even the

Oddlings are unable to account for the ancient cities, saying only that they were

built by the Vanished Ones, and existed when their ancestors came into the swamp

country. Ruwenda Citadel itself, a veritable mountain of intricate stone walls,

bastions, keeps, towers, and interconnected buildings, also dates from remote

antiquity and is said to have been the seat of whatever primordial rulers the

Peninsula then bowed to.

The more isolated ruins, accessible only to the aborigines, were the source of the

most coveted trade items —antique art-objects and mysterious small mechanisms

which brought very high prices, not only from collectors in Labornok, but also

from would-be students of occult knowledge in the farthest reaches of the known

world. This trade, for reasons that will become plain, languished after Crown

Prince Voltrik became heir to the throne of Labornok and set in motion events that

would bring about the long-awaited conquest of our pestilential little southern

neighbor.

Voltrik was forced to wait a long time for his crown, since his uncle, King

Sporikar, lived well over his one hundred allotted years. During this time of

waiting, Voltrik diverted himself by planning the acquisition of yet another crown,

and also traveled widely. From one such expedition to the lands north of Raktum

he returned with a new companion who was to provide him with the key to

Ruwenda — the sorcerer Orogastus.

Voltrik was then in his eight-and-thirtieth year, a man of formidable physical

presence, black-bearded and granitically handsome, with a temper as

unpredictable and shocking as a thunderclap. His first wife, the beloved Princess

Janeel, died giving birth to Voltrik's only son, Antar. His second wife, Shonda,

perished under suspicious circumstances while on a lothok hunt, having failed to

conceive after ten years of marriage. The frivolous Princess Narice, his third wife,

suffered the penalty for high treason after attempting to run away with an equerry.

She and her paramour were tumbled together in a large sack of thorn-fleece, and

then burnt alive.

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The sorcerer Orogastus became Voltrik's chief adviser and before long

commanded respect and fear throughout all Labornok. It was he who urged the

Crown Prince to bide his time before taking a fourth bride, and possess his soul in

patience if he wished to see his great ambitions fulfilled.

(Prudently, the magician did not disclose to the impetuous Prince that he would

have to wait another seventeen years for the doddering King Sporikar to die.)

In the meantime, Orogastus established a stronghold high on the northern slope of

the Ohogan Mountains on the flank of Mount Brom, where he set about to perfect

his magical arts. All unusual antique artifacts procured by the Master-Traders of

Labornok from the swamp Oddlings now came directly into his hands, for a vision

had hinted to him that enormous power might be tapped through certain of the

curious devices. Orogastus later took as assistants three sinister individuals who

were known as his Voices. They served as the sorcerer's acolytes and agents, and

were feared very nearly as much as their master.

On the opposite slope of the ice-crowned Ohogan Mountains, in the Ruwendian

foothills where the River Nothar's precipitous descent eased and the watercourse

broadened, lay the home of another occult practitioner. She was the Archimage

Binah, also called the White Lady, who had lived for untold years in the ruins of

Noth, one of the ancient cities of the Vanished Ones. She was little more than a

legend to the human population of Ruwenda, whose common people never saw

her. Yet they persistently invoked her name in times of trouble, and had revered

her as the guardian of their land from time immemorial.

Only the Oddlings and the Ruwendian royalty knew the truth that lay behind the

legend: It was Binah´s benevolent enchantment, not the difficult terrain, the

human fortifications, inclement weather, nor natural disasters, that had kept the

Mazy Mire safe from would-be despoilers. But the weight of years bows down the

wielders of magic even as it does those who do not exercise the powers. During

the reign of Krain III the undetected safeguards Binah had set up around Ruwenda

became increasingly more difficult for her to maintain. And as her faculties

waned, those of the evil Orogastus became stronger and stronger.

There came a time when Queen Kalanthe of Ruwenda was finally brought to

childbed after many years of barrenness, and all was not going well. King Krain

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knelt beside his stricken wife and called upon powers long near forgotten, which

he had not named since childhood. Out of the night-murk which hung thick and

stagnant over the great swamp came a bird so immense that, with its wings spread,

it could have covered most of the Citadel's High Tower roof. Beyond a doubt it

was one of the awesome lammergeiers that haunted the most inaccessible crags of

the Ohogan Range. From its back the Archimage Binah dismounted, and those on

guard and those in service in the halls were awestruck and fell to their knees at the

sight of her. In appearance she seemed to be only an aged woman, clad in a silver-

bordered white cloak that changed with movement to that pale blue sometimes

seen in snow shadows; but there was something about her that muted all question,

and it was unthinkable that anyone should try to stop or hinder her as she hurried

to the bedside of the Queen.

Those who stood close to the suffering lady now wept and sighed and prayed

aloud, for it was plain that Kalanthe was unable to bring forth the new life that

struggled for existence within her, and was nigh unto death. Her beautiful russet

hair was darkened and plastered to her head by the sweat of her ordeal, and she

gripped King Krain's hand as one drowning might cling to a rope.

Drawing near, the Archimage said: "Be at peace. All will yet be well. Kalanthe,

dear daughter, look at me."

The Queen's eyes opened wide and her moaning ceased. Poor Krain did not want

to leave his wife's side, but a single gesture from the Archimage filled him with

sudden hope and he stepped back, motioning the courtiers and the Queen's women

to make room for the visitor.

The royal midwife, who was an Oddling named Immu, stood by holding a goblet

containing a potion of herbs, which she had not been able to get the Queen to

swallow. The Archimage Binah beckoned the little nonhuman female to come

forward and raise the cup, and then there was revealed a great wonder. All who

were in the room, even the dying Queen, uttered cries of amazement, for Binah

held over the goblet a Black Trillium plant — root, leaves, and a single tripartite

blossom—a fabled swampherb so rare that not even the palace Oddlings could say

where or if it still grew. Yet this same plant was the badge of the Ruwendian royal

house, and among the most precious of the crown jewels were certain pieces of

honey-amber, which had embedded in them minute fossil specimens of the bloom,

no larger than the head of a pin.

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But this flower was not small. It was fully as wide as the palm of the Archimage's

hand and of a rich black deeper than silk velvet. Binah plucked the trillium

blossom and dropped it into the cup, but the plant she hid away beneath her cloak.

She waited for the counting of ten breaths while the flower dissolved, then took

the cup of tisane from the Oddling midwife and signaled to the King.

Krain rushed forward, raised his dear lady in his arms, and supported her while

she sipped at the drink and then drank steadily until the goblet was empty.

The Queen now lay back upon her pillows. Suddenly she uttered a mighty cry—

not of pain but rather of triumph — and the midwife Immu said: "She is giving

birth!"

Three Princesses, one babe following swiftly upon another, appeared. And this

was a great prodigy since multiple births are uncommon among the human

aristocracy.

The babes cried lustily, and although small were perfect in form, each differing

slightly in feature and coloring from the other. As each Princess was welcomed

into the waiting birth-cloth the Archimage spoke a name and laid upon the small

breast a strangely wrought golden pendant inlaid with honey-amber, containing a

bud of the Black Trillium flower.

"Haramis," she said to the first child, in the tone of one welcoming a beloved

friend or fosterling; and "Kadiya" she hailed the second; while "Anigel" greeted

the third.

Then she looked beyond the infants to the King and Queen, who both were staring

at her in wonder, and spoke with such a note of foreboding in her voice as to

impress her words deeply upon the memories of all who heard them.

"Years come and go with speed. That which is lofty may fall, that which is

cherished may be lost, that which is hidden must, in time, be revealed. And yet I

tell you that all will be well. My day slides now into evening, although I shall do

what I must and can until the coming of full night. These three Petals of the

Living Trillium, children of your house, Krain and Kalanthe, have a fearsome

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destiny awaiting them and terrible tasks, but the time for that is not yet."

Before the King and Queen could ask the meaning of her warning, the Archimage

Binah turned and went swiftly from the room. The howling babes and the

necessary duties attending the Queen's deliverance fully occupied the royal

women and the midwife Immu, while the King went forth to announce the joyful

news and proclaim a time of celebration. The magical trillium amulets were hung

on fine golden chains, and the Princesses wore them waking or sleeping.

As the Archimage had said, time passes; and with it treads also a measure of

forgetfulness. The three Princesses grew up to be strong and beautiful girls, who

heard often from their nurses and their parents the story of that strange scene

attending their birth. However, to the girls it began to seem more and more to be a

fanciful tale, especially the baleful warning, for there was nothing to disturb the

comfort of their days as they matured, and like most young people they were

much more interested in the present than the past.

Princess Haramis was her scholarly father's favorite. While she was yet a small

child, she craved such knowledge as is to be found in books, pestering the royal

scribes and sages with questions unbecoming to royal females. She also found

magic in music, especially that drawn from the flute and the strings of the ladu-

wood harp. She spent much of her time with the Oddling Uzun, who was a famous

singer of songs and raconteur. He could change the most melancholy mood into

one of good cheer through his jolly tale-spinning and wise counsel.

Princess Kadiya early proved to be a lover of animals and birds, especially the

queer creatures of the deep swamp. Her passion was to live under the open sky

and explore the wilder reaches of the realm, and for her guide and teacher in

matters of natural history she turned to the Oddling Jagun, who was the royal

Master of Animals and chief huntsman of the Citadel.

Princess Anigel, as dainty and delicate as one of the flowers she loved so much,

was a shy child, although much given to laughter, and had a tender heart that went

out to any sick or suffering thing. She was a special delight to Queen Kalanthe,

taking pleasure in domestic and ceremonial duties that her sisters scorned. Her

closest friend was that same Immu who had been the royal midwife and her nurse,

who now served as the Citadel apothecary, brewing not only potions and simples

but also sweet perfumes, confectionary essences, and very good beer.

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The time came when the three Princesses were of marriageable age, Ruwenda

having prospered for seventeen years at the expense of Labornok. At the behest of

the sorcerer Orogastus, Crown Prince Voltrik sued for the hand of Haramis, the

heiress. To his fury he was rejected, King Krain having decided that, failing a

male heir, he would on the next Feast of the Three Moons betroth his eldest

daughter to the second son of King Fiodelon of Var. This Prince, named

Fiomakai, would then share the Ruwendian throne as co-monarch with Haramis.

The nation of Var, lying to the south of the Tassaleyo Forest on the fertile plain of

the Great Mutar, had very little commercial or diplomatic intercourse with

Ruwenda. (It was, however, a notable maritime trade rival of Labornok!) But if

the savage Glismak Oddlings could ever be subdued and the Great Mutar

subsequently opened to the mercantile vessels of Var, Labornok might very well

find the lucrative Ruwendian trade cut out from under it…

At this critical junction in Peninsular history, old King Sporikar finally closed his

eyes to the world and Voltrik became King of Labornok. At the urging of

Orogastus, his newly appointed Grand Minister of State, Voltrik summoned his

grown son Crown Prince Antar and the Labornoki commander-in-chief General

Hamil. He told them to prepare for the immediate invasion of Ruwenda.

Chapter One

Once again, from down in the outer ward of the beleaguered Citadel, a blazing

blue-white light dazzled the eyes of the watching royal family, and those of the

courtiers and the Oathed Companions gathered with them on a balcony at the mid-

level of the great keep. An attendant clap of thunder hit their ears a split second

later.

King Krain uttered a groan of despair. "By the White Lady, this time there can be

no doubt! The sorcerer Orogastus has indeed called down lightning from a clear

sky, and this stroke has breached the wall of the inner ward!"

Labornoki foot soldiery came surging by the hundreds through the broad, newly

made gap. They were closely followed by mounted knights led by the brutal

General Hamil. The charging attackers flattened the valiant Citadel defenders as

easily as the hurricane blasts marshgrass. Moments later there was a third blinding

magical flash, and then a fourth, and after each one enemy hordes poured through

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