"The Man Who Bought the World"
A short story set in "the Prometheus Cycle" Universe
By Silas A. DeBoer
THE MAN WHO BOUGHT THE WORLD Copyright © 2014 by Silas A. DeBoer.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact; prometheuscycle.blogspot.com
Book and Cover design by Silas A. DeBoer
ISBN: 9781311258854
First Edition: July 2014
A Note from the Author
This short story is one of several that precedes the novel "The Prometheus Cycle: The Star, The Sword, and the Mirror ." This story is set in the Eastern Marches, to give readers a flavor of the shadowy organization working at the margins in the novel. This is also the clearest indication about the narrative rival world histories (aside from Mother Hagatha's tale in the novel) between the Creation Story of the Church of Elene (Empress of the Universe, Hallowed be Her name) and the traditions of the Gwerin, often maligned as The Heathen.
You can learn more about "The Prometheus Cycle: The Sword, the Star, and the Mirror" and supporting short stories at prometheuscycle.blogspot.com
"Who knows?
Not me.
We never lost control.
You're face to face
with the man who sold the world."
~David Bowie
"You ever hear the one about the man who bought the world?" Yorick leaned back in the battered rocking chair, firelight from the hearth catching in his green eyes. The Archer's Target was not the cleanest tavern in Pelos-by-the-Sea, but smugglers cared little for cleanliness, only business. There were few enough patrons that the two Men sat in complete privacy.
"Don't think I have." Saela arched an eyebrow as he swallowed from his mug of mead. "Is it another of your heathen tales?"
"The best ones are. There be some truth to 'em, mark me, they are unlike the sanctioned stories scribed by sanctimonious monks in musty monasteries."
Saela laughed. "I'll drink to that. Decent turn of phrase as well."
"Hmm... Let's see... Yes, I learned this one during my time in the Gyrewood with the Cigfrain tribe, a motley band they were, always on the move, scavenging the ruins of a previous age, performing rites, giving sacrifice to their strange gods. It was in the shell of a keep the Cigfrain called Caer Nosi that I heard this tale in the language of the Gwerinoedd, which translates to The People.
When the Gwerin came to this land, we were but children of a dying world, crushed by conquerors, famine and plague. We came through the Hills of Twilight, far to the east, what some call the Gates of Ishtar. No one remembers precisely where, for the way was shut long ago. The Lord of the Starlit Realm was called Lord Auberon, and he had the fealty of all creatures great and small, of the sky, the soil, and the seas. All the Lords and Ladies of the Land were Auberon's to command, but he was a first among equals, such as Morgana the Wise, Fionn the Weary, Diarmuid the Quick, Sadhbh the Lost, Aethylwynn the Smith, and many others. These Lords and Ladies are called Fair Ones, for they are unlike the Gwerin, in that they cannot die by age, thirst or hunger, and indescribable beauty is afforded them.
Among Lord Auberon's followers were noble knights, called the Fianna, a group of landless lords who had not yet come to inheritance. It was from these that Valiant Elsador wedded the Maiden of the Gwerin, and the Court crafted the Sun and Two Moons, to make the Starlit Realm into the Green Lands we know today. After the Maiden of the Gwerin died in old age, Elsador's son Roland asked about his mother's people, and father and son traveled to a dying world of pain, hunger, plague and despair. Elsador and Roland took pity on the Gwerin of the Dark World, and rescued many who would die, bringing them to the Green Lands, so that the Gwerin would not pass away entirely as the Fair Ones had divined. Elsador and Roland had to battle the Court to win passage for the Gwerin, but that is another tale.
For many centuries the Gwerin, called the Children of War by the Fair Ones, lived on the Isle of Man, and grew populous. They crafted boats and sailed to lands of ice and snow, to lands of sand and desert, to lands of mountain and moor, to lands of green fields and forest. Each of these realms were ruled by a Fair Lord or Lady, and in fealty the Gwerin toiled, but the Fair Ones did not love the Gwerin as Elsador and Roland did, many of the Fair Lords and Ladies grew hostile, demanding deeds beyond the fealty of a vassal. The Children of War revolted, and sought to slay the Fair Ones, and the lands were shed in blood."
"Hold on mate, what exactly did these Heathen Gods ask of us?" Saela leaned forward, his brow furrowed, his color flush.
Yorick laughed. "Us? I was talking about the Gwerin. You and me are Children of Elene, right?"
Saela nodded, his eyes tightened, and motioned for Yorick to continue.
"To answer your query... The Cigfrain refused to remember the tyrannies of the Fair Lords and Ladies, as it were part of the Addewid, or Promise. You see, the Fair Ones were few in number, but mighty in power. The Heathens believe that the Fair Ones used sorcery to change base animals into savage beast-men, to serve in their armies against the Children of War. These included the creation of the Catiin race, the Wolfiin, the Cwningodiin, and others, many forgotten by Men, others that fought to extinction while some still hide guarding sacred sites. The Fair Ones worked these wonders because the Gwerin had learned of Cold Iron, which is deadly to the immortals, and the Fair Ones grew afraid. The fate of Elsador and Roland was lost to the Cigfrain. Many battles saw the deaths of multitudes on both sides of the conflict, and several of the Fair Lords and Ladies died at the hands of the Gwerin."
"Finally, a single leader emerged among the Children of War who sought peace between the races, because the Green Lands were fouled and the Gwerin were only repeating the woe of Tywyll-Bydoedd, the Heathen word for the Dark World. It is in the Gwerin's blood to murder, rape, and enslave. This leader of the Gwerin was called Atur among the Heathens, but we called him Athan the Wise, the first High King of the West."
Yorick paused for a swig of mead, wetting his parched throat, his eyes wide with incredulity.
"It was at the Isle of Man that Atur and Lord Auberon met on the Green Sward, and made the Addewid, or Promise. It was a compact of sorts, that recognized the sovereignty of the Fair Ones upon the Green Lands, and the pair argued day and night for the fate of the Gwerin in the Green Lands. There was no return to the Dark World of the Gwerin's forebears, for Lord Auberon had closed it forevermore. In a way, Atur agreed with Lord Auberon that the Gwerin were hopeless, that we would murder each other and destroy all that we touched, and that the Fair Ones were immortal lest they grow weary or slain by Cold Iron. In this way Atur turned Lord Auberon's argument into a Cyngwystl, or wager, such that the Gwerin should be allowed to prove Lord Auberon right in our own time, and that the Fair Ones should sleep under the hills, safe from the Cold Iron blades of the Gwerin. When the Fair Ones awake, the Gwerin should become extinct. Lord Auberon could not fault Atur's word, and he was weary of the conflict with the Children of War. Lord Auberon demanded that in payment for use of the Green Lands, Atur and his offspring should guard against the Gwerin and protect the lands and seas, and should Atur's descendents fail, then the Addewid would be at an end, the Fair Ones would wake and the Gwerin slaughtered without quarter. Atur agreed
, and the Fair Ones slept, allowing Atur to buy the world, or rather, to rent it. So it has been for millennia."
Saela shook his head. "Well that means we're all bolloxed according to these Heathens. Athan's line ended with the Realm's war against the Necromancers of the Eastern Waste. If the tale is true, then we'd all be dead."
Yorick yawned. "Either that, or the King's line remains somewhere in hiding, holding to the tenets of the Addewid."
"If any existed, the Council would have found 'em and gave 'em the throne right? Ain't that what the Search had all been for?" Saela finished off his mead and called to Maelys the Maid for a refill. There were still few in The Archer's Target this late on a workday, but Saela and Yorick were neither farmer or shepherd.
"Some say the Search was to murder the High King's heirs, so the Council could continue to rule." Yorick nodded to his companion across the table. Maelys finished pouring mead from a pitcher of fired clay.
Saela blew out his held breath. "That's treason in the West, you know that Yorick."
"Good thing we're outside the Realm."
"Any Westerman worth his salt might call you out." Saela insisted.
Yorick only gave his companion a slow smile.
Saela laughed suddenly, holding thick fingers to his rotund belly and slapping the scarred table top.
"And so we come to the point of the matter."
Saela grinned at his drinking companion. "And I thought we were simply swapping tales at the hearth."
"No Saela Maestris, merchant of Tyr and master of no less than seven ships plying the Southern Sea between the Realm and the Marches. I represent an association of like minded persons, who listen to the old tales, and hedge our bets against the Council's aggression. We have watched you, and your interests for some time. I was sent to make contact."
Saela arched a bushy eyebrow. "Now we get to something interesting. Tell me about this association."
Yorick shrugged. "None of us know more than a few at a time, so as not to betray the entirety should we become captured. You would know me, to start, but no others. That limits the vulnerability of new members. However, there are enough persons of wealth and influence to insure your interests in a number of ports. You have heard about the pirates savaging the West's shipping interests in the Shining South?"
Saela nodded knowingly. "Only fools fail to invest in thirty or forty mercenaries per vessel, which makes the trade in rubber and sugar barely break even."
"Fly our flag, carry our goods, and the pirates will never trouble you."
Saela slowly smiled in admiration.
"This association sounds better, but the price of treason is heavy in the West. The Council has given the Inquisitors free reign to rout out heresy. What kind of goods are we talking about?"
Yorick glanced at Maelys the Maid lounging against the bar, her eyes on the few patrons in the tavern. "Some art, some live goods, nothing to take up too much cargo space in your hulks."
Saela glanced down at his hands. "I have three ships in port now, will this association make use of me so soon?"
~
Yorick Ravenfriend watched the fat merchant leave The Archer's Target with satisfaction. The power of the old tales stirred hearts, and the truth was reflected in a Gwerin's eyes. He had trained under the High Priestess of the Cigfrain at his Master's behest, and it was as if the world he had known was shown to be nothing more than dross, an illusion of security when Man blindly walked a treacherous cliff path with certain doom below.
"Will the merchant do as we asked?"
"He will do what is most profitable. Is your girl ready?"
Maelys the Maid nodded as the last rays of daylight winked out over the Stone Hills west of Pelos-by-the-Sea.
~
The cloaked Catiin boarded High King's Coffer under the cover of darkness, only the First Mate and Master Maestris as witness. She wore a dark cloak over leather armor, dark and supple. Her weapons included a half dozen knives lashed to her person in addition to retractable claws stronger than steel. Her tail lashed from side to side as the First Mate escorted her to the rear cabin.
"You should be comfortable in these accommodations Miss K..."
"Don't even think of finishing that sentence Fat Man," warned the white whiskered female beneath the hood of the cloak. "I could claw your throat out before your man drew that pig sticker in his belt."
Master Maestris gulped as First Mate Jack Adams let go of the short sword's hilt. "Yes, well, as I was saying, this cabin is yours, while I will be taking Mister Adams' cabin."
Master Maestris and the First Mate exited the Captain's Quarters, latching the door shut behind.
She wandered the darkened room and let her eyes adjust to the absence of the Man's lamp. It did not take long with the moonslight of Elune and Unele streaming through the high backed windows. The quarters were spacious for a ship, barely fifteen spans in either direction with a decent ceiling. The bed was built into the wall, a small cubby with storage below it. A desk sat near the rear windows, bolted to the oaken floor, a plush chair attached to a bronze track. Men were weak to need such comforts.
The rest of the cabin proved to her satisfaction if not approval. She approved of little among the works of Man. They were only good for forging weapons, making armor, and other tasks requiring nimble fingers. She stretched her retractable claws upon the desk's scarred tabletop, feeling the tendons extend. According to the stories, the Catiin were either created by the One True Goddess or by Lady Morgana of the Fair Court. It did not matter which was true, or neither. To her mind, her species were works of art, perfect in form and substance, quicker than any viper, agile as their namesake, and luckier than any being had a right. She was going into the West, under deep cover, to act servile in a land where the perfect Catiin were subjugated by soft skinned Men.
Faye's eyes gleamed emerald in the dim moonslight, her soul a beacon fire in the darkness.
END
About the Author
Silas A. DeBoer temporarily resides in the fifth circle of hell (some call it Oklahoma). A native born Nebraskan and life long student of history, philosophy, and legend, Silas makes a life with his wife Carrie and their five cats. Silas and Carrie enjoy role-playing games, video games, and reading for pleasure.
May all our readers recognize the blessings in their life, and do all they can to make this dark world a brighter place.