“Eadwine serves as a priestess of the old ways. She served the gods and made sacrifices to them. When the Queen left the city, and you were hidden, the old ways could do nothing to help the people. In the resulting chaos, many of the priests and priestesses fled and made homes for themselves in the forests. They served the Witch Queens in times past, yet now many believe they serve the gods alone, and like other men believe the witches betrayed them. Yet they blame your mother for what happened to them, and they stand with the men who have taken the mantle of Kings.”
“Gavial I know already.” She glared at the man who called himself King.
“Aye, you do. Yet you do not know all. You see, I once knew Gavial to be a good-hearted man. Long ago he defended the lands your mother gave him from the demon. More so, he does not believe you have the power to defeat Belial and covets his power too much to hope you do. And when the gods bound the Ice Queen, and she hid you, his lands suffered the most, for they stood in the path of Belial’s armies. He grew downtrodden, and he did not believe you would return.”
“But I have,” she said, still eyeing the pretender King.
“He did not believe you would. And now he must give back the power he took, and he fears what another would do in his stead.”
Headred stopped, but Caer thought about the whisperings of her mother and the shadows she saw preying on the hearts of men.
“You have also met Whista, the Lady of the Wood.” Headred indicated the wood nymph who spoke to Mab the previous night. “You will find her to be good and wise. Though old, one of the first spirits born into the world, her heart is not rotted. You will find most nymphs are as joyous as Whista, but she tries to be careful in her judgments. And with her sits Altha, her sister of the wood, younger than she.”
He shifted his attention, pointing to the basin. “And Widsith, a water spirit of the now-frozen lakes, joins them. He may side with men, if their hearts grow dark, for the water spirits are swayed by the other’s opinions. Even so, the spirits of the water are good and pure of heart.” Headred fell silent.
Mab whispered to the fairy at her left hand, who Caer saw but not met. Caer guessed him to be Mab’s son Girth. He looked to be, like his mother, tall and beautiful, with dark hair and eyes, but his face must resemble his father; with a chiseled jaw and strong features his mother lacked. At her right hand sat Elric, who seemed serene, though he seemed restless, smoothing his long brown hair behind his pointed ears as he waited for the beginning of council.
Last Caer knew the representatives of the magicks. The last of her line, Caer sat on the council as a witch. Headred of the Prophets sat beside her. Beoreth, the wise woman, of the lowest class of witch, sat on the council as well.
The opening bell started clanging and Caer clutched Headred’s hand on her right side, and Beoreth’s on her left. Mab stood to face the council.
The bell rang for the last time. It sounded like a death knell to Caer. She would not be a symbol as the gods of old. She saw the statues of the gods on Ull’s walls, and though stone, it seemed the statues simple gaze took in the breadth of the world.
Doubt rose in her heart. The skin around her fearful eyes went pale. Gavial glanced at Caer but said nothing.
“Long ago,” Mab called to them all, “the four great races the gods made, and gathered together to make peace with each other, lest they turn to war. Among them are the fairies, the centaurs, the nymphs, and the mortal men.”
All became quiet.
“The gods made a choice,” she continued. “A mortal woman gave birth to a child made of gods and men, a child with the power of the gods, who would rule in their stead. And so the council again met, and bestowed upon the Witch Queen Goewin and her power. Time passed, and many forget the first councils accepted the rule of the Witch Queens. Yet some remember, as I remember. For twenty years no witch stood in the walls Ull, and in those walls wielded power.
“A new age arises.” Her power resonated on the stones. “Behold Caer, daughter of Beren, the Witch Queen of Sul, Y Erianrod, the child of light, returned to us at last, to face the darkness and to defeat it.”
The silence shattered. The men rumbled; the centaurs moved away from the mortals in disgust. The fairies remained immobile. The nymphs chattered among themselves.
“Truth in rumors,” Eadwine, the high priestess, spoke. “The Ice Queen sent her daughter away.”
“She--” Gehrdon started in defense, but at Mab’s motion, let it pass.
“She dwelled beyond your lands and knew not of her magic,” Mab replied. “Now she returns to you, and though she still learns the ways of her people, do not fear. For she faced the demon and still lives. Neither any I know among you, nor from anyone since the dawn of time, can say the same.”
“Forgive me, milady,” Gavial interrupted. “I am Gavial, of the western wilds, and my people live near Myrkviðr, the great Black Forest.”
“The evil creatures dwell near your lands,” Headred asked Gavial. “Yet you remain? You do not so much as send your women and children away?”
“We do,” Gavial said in defiance. “Our women fight with men, mothers and fathers defend their children. Long ago we learned women die by the sword the same as a man. And for five generations we have dwelled in our village of Riverfjord. The wise woman of our village charmed the demon’s evil kindred away. Yet now power rises from the golems of the dark tower of Eliudnir. Evil returns to us.” He glared at Caer.
“Do you believe I am evil, Gavial of the west?” Caer asked.
Mab touched her shoulder. “He fears the power you hold. He fears the power of your mother, for which his people have long paid the price.” She turned to address everyone. “I see now we must begin. For I stood and watched as the world changed. Evil wishes us to forget, and now we will remember all, past, present, and future.”
“We all know the ancient stories,” Gavial said. “We need not hear them again.”
“Perhaps you do,” Gehrdon kicked her hooves. “Perhaps you would do well to remember again.”
Mab held up her hand. “Peace, centaur-daughter. Peace to men. Let us remember, in the tradition of this council, why we meet. For we together must decide the fate of our world, and let not one decide for the rest.”
All became silent, and all nodded, except Gavial. “In the wastelands beyond the Black Mountains,” Mab began, passing the representatives of men as she walked around the council, “the demon-god waited. Beyond Sul, where the gods cast down the evil called Moloch, the Dark Lord drew power to himself.
“Creatures he made to serve him. Wolves he drew to his power, and gave them the likeness of men, and taste for living flesh. Men he could deceive, but over the other races he possessed no power. The minds of men he found to be their own, to choose good or ill. And so what he could not corrupt he made.
“From Helrög he made creatures in the form of men and gave them a conjured half life. Golems, Moloch called them, spawned from the abyss he came from, created in the likeness of the mortals and yet without the life they possessed.
“And in the wasteland he made the towers and black gate of Eliudnir, the fortress of the Dark Lord, in the cursed lands of Óskópnir, and cast his eye on the lands of the gods and mortal men. In Ull, the Witch Queen Enyd foresaw Woden’s will: Moloch’s unleashed his armies upon the lands of magic, and his darkness overshadowed all. The eyes of Moloch and the eyes of the Witch Queen met each other. They fought across the woodlands, the mountains, the rivers and the lakes separating them.
“The Dark Lord unleashed his plague. And in the Western plain of Niðavellir, as the Witch Queen wove her spell upon the armies of the races, and the Lord Moloch cast his gaze in victory on the alliance of the four races, the battle of the age began.
“The armies of the Dark Lord marched into Sul and spread his shadow throughout the lands. Nymphs fell as his armies cut down the trees. They drove the centaurs from the mountains and the valleys, and the sky became covered in the Dark Lord’s evil. The ill
of his heart seeped into the foundations of Miðgarðir, into the golden glades and the silver palaces beneath the fairy sidhes. And the tribes of men he slaughtered.
“Evil entered Miðgarðir, and hope diminished. So the races gathered, right here beneath the shadows of Keros. The council formed once more. They raised armies from what remained of the races, and beyond the Western woodlands of Myrkviðr, on the plain of Niðavellir in the shadows of Niðafjöll, the black mountains, the final battle of the first Great War met.
“Hope fled the day the armies of Miðgarðir engaged the shadow. On the battlefield, in the burning forests and the wounded trees bleeding with the light of the dying nymphs, Moloch stood in the midst of his armies. His shadow covered the whole earth, and his face we found not to be the face of a god, but the face of fury sent to destroy all who remained to stand against him.
“I stood with my people in the midst of battle and looked upon the face of Moloch, the fallen god. In the burning woods of the west I looked at the fervor of battle and saw evil vanquish good, light vanquish dark, neither side gaining ground. And in the shadows I prayed.
“Blood of all races poured in rivers through the burning world as the battle raged. And though the armies of the Lord Moloch fell upon our swords, more among us fell upon the swords of our enemy. For as we cut through them, so he cut through us, and the numbers of the races diminished.
“In this circle of Glasheim the Witch Queen Enyd wove her spell on the lands of magic and the armies sent to face the Moloch’s evil blight. Enyd wove a spell against Moloch’s armies, the likes of which I have never seen. She cut through them as if she herself wielded a mighty sword and gave hope to the races.
“At last Oberon, King of the Fairies, fought against Moloch when the armies diminished. Long and hard they fought, but in the end, Lord Moloch struck down Oberon, the King of the fairies.
“And when hope failed in Oberon’s death, so it rekindled.
“King Cuthred, husband of Enyd, came upon the Dark Lord. And in the shadows his sword struck what remained alive inside Moloch. As Moloch fell, the King of Men turned to walk away.
“Swift as lightning Moloch’s sword lashed out and slew Cuthred. But his power diminished, and Moloch could not stop what would come. From the fields of Niðavellir, the Dark Lord fled, deep into the lands of magic, to wreak one final havoc on his enemies.
“I watched as the sun broke through the endless shadow and gave its radiance to the earth again. I looked with the power of my kindred at the damnation I knew would be wreaked upon us all.
“I saw evil would be born into this world,” Mab glanced at the faces of the council.
“Now the Dark Lord rises anew,” Mab continued. “In his daughter his spirit endures. Through war and pain our efforts are in vain; Belial waits for Caer to be revealed, for the Witch Queens to be revealed again, and to loose her armies once more.”
All stared at her. No one spoke as Mab crossed the council and stood before Caer; the sound of crunching snow beneath her feet all they could hear.
“Yet hope walks among us now,” Mab drew their attention to Caer. “The gods gave again to destroy the darkness, as once a child of despair Lord Moloch gave. The daughter of the gods alone can stand and face Belial; she alone can save you all. And now I reveal her to you. I give to you Caer, daughter of Beren, Witch Queen of Sul. I give to you, at last, Y Erianrod.” She pulled Caer to her feet.
A murmur broke out from the nymphs and the centaurs. Rumblings of dissent and assent came upon the words of the Fairy Queen. And Caer saw them glancing at her, in fear and of wonder, for the daughter of the Ice Queen. But as Yidrith sat unmoving, contemplating, listening to a rumble of dissent from Gavial and Eadwine, the priestess of the old ways.
“Men have no Queen,” Gavial looked at Caer. “Men need no Queen.”
“The Witch Queen Beren condemned us all to this winter. Why should we accept her daughter now?” Eadwine asked, her voice soft, but with hardness in her tone.
Mab glowered at Eadwine as all eyes focused on Caer.
“If indeed the Witch Queen’s daughter walks among us now,” Gavial said with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “you will see men no longer serve the witches. We will burn them where they stand.”
The council erupted. The councilors stood and though they bore no weapons, a battle of words began. Caer glanced at the camp below and saw people gazing up and girding themselves for war.
“Should we not wait and see?” Yidrith yelled at Gavial.
Eadwine nodded in agreement with Yidrith.
“I do not stand with you if you stand with her!” Gavial reached for the sword he did not carry today, and moved his hand away again. “I, and my men, turn my back on the witches and Y Erianrod!”
“You damn yourself and your entire race!” Mab told him. “You would damn us all!”
“The race of men serves the demon Belial!” Sestina shouted. “Centaurs will rise and fight the forces of Belial!”
“You accuse us of serving the demon, you ass?” Yidrith called to Sestina. Sestina reared.
“Swishaseneth tolasnasekrish olanaswas,” Widsith bellowed, his face angry in the basin beneath the veil of ice. Without the mortals, we all will fall.
Beren glided before Caer, the sunlight passing through her.
See how Belial works…
Headred stood and protected Caer. Beoreth held Caer close, lest fighting break out. As the Ice Queen walked among the divided council she cried crystal tears for the breaking of the races, tears shattering on the frozen earth.
So subtle, so careful is evil…
The men and centaurs began to climb the snowy hill toward the council. In moments a battle would begin to forever change their destiny. The people divided, the council broke, and Caer could do nothing to stop it.
Caer alone saw Beren as she cried in the midst of the feuding.
They do not see her, they do not wish to…
Beren walked among those who fought with words and watched those who would fight with weapons.
Even now, the demon’s power works among them…
“Silence!” Mab shouted.
The councilors stilled. Those who gathered in armies around them stopped.
“Men will accept the one chosen by the gods to be their light in the world,” she told them. Yidrith withered under the gaze of the centaurs. “Or they will join the demon and choose death.”
“Death we choose,” Gavial roared, and the battle began.
In a moment Caer saw the battle: The men would fight amongst themselves, and with the other races. Someone tossed Gavial a sword, and with it he slew Elric where he sat, and Sestina where she stood, before Cahros brought him down.
The fairies and the nymphs joined the fray. One by one the people fell, their blood staining the place of the gods. Headred leapt to defend Caer, but he too fell, dying at her feet before a sword took her life, and the life of Beoreth.
The vision began anew. Caer, blinking, saw it begin as she just saw. Beren still glided among them. And in the midst of the council, the spirit of the demon lurked, cloaked in shadow, laughing. Beren grimaced at the shadow. Caer gazed at her mother’s eyes, as the Ice Queen’s face contorted with rage. But when Beren glanced at Caer, she seemed sad again, and in her eyes Caer saw the love and hope she for so long buried inside of her heart.
The time comes, my daughter…
Gavial caught the sword. The battle met. Belial won the hearts of the people through her trickery. Gavial shouted to those who joined him to kill the witch now, before she killed them. Beren walked toward Caer, through Headred who shivered at the touch of her shade, and continued through Caer as she turned to watch her mother disappear with her words of parting.
The time comes for the light to be unveiled in the shadows…
The vision turned to reality once more, leaving the boiling mist around their feet.
“Ablinnan.” Caer’s voice rang out, commanding the mist to stop. The mist recoiled a
nd trembled, like waves on a stormy sea.
“Do you think I do not see you, foul spirit of the damned?” Caer demanded as the shadow wrapped its cold tendrils around the men, around the council and around Glasheim.
Everyone turned to Caer. No one moved. No one spoke.
“Be gone,” she told Belial. “Go back to the wasteland where you belong.”
Lightning crackled and lit the circle where the demon stood. Headred did not see Caer, but a shining goddess, so bright the world around her seemed dark as the night. And in the glow the demon screamed and fled.
Far in the west, in the tower of Eliudnir, Belial flew against the wall, away from the crystal she peered into, and fell into dreams, defeated by the power of the one sent to destroy her.
Silence permeated the circle. Caer sat down, her hands shaking. The eyes of the council remained upon her.
“The light unveils herself,” Mab reminded them. “Will you join her, or join the darkness?”
Still no one moved or spoke. The wind blew as the skies cleared once more.
At last Eadwine moved. She said nothing, inclining her head, first to Mab and second to Caer. Her priestesses, halfway up the hill, finished their ascent. With her face still pale from what she saw, Eadwine took the hands of her servants and began to descend the hill. One by one the councilors followed suit, some speaking in hushed, shaking tones, as they chose to accept Caer.
At last Yidrith and Gavial alone found themselves in the circle.
“I am Yidrith, son of Shuma, son of Raed,” Yidrith said. “I choose the rightful heir, Caer, daughter of Beren. I know in my heart your mother never abandoned us. Her spirit walks still, watching over these lands. I thank the gods hope returns to us at last.” He inclined his head and descended the hill.
“And what say you, Gavial, ‘King’ of Myrkviðr?” Mab asked.
He glared, but Caer could see he feared what he saw.
“How long did she enthrall your mind, I wonder?” Caer pondered aloud.
He looked at her with dread.
“My good Lord, do not fear me. The demon flees, and her power over you vanquished, as long as you do not crave power, and join her in the Óskópnir.”
“We shall see if she can deliver us,” Gavial said to them. “I am King of my lands, and none will rule us. Even so, I choose the gods and the one they choose, even a woman.”