Chapter Thirty-four
The Hermits of the Void
They carried on up the long valley. Shelley went over all that Quickblade and she had said to each other, until she came to his parting shot, when he called her a ‘Jilter.’
‘Korman, what did Quickblade mean when he called me a… Jilter, as if it was some kind of group you can join?’ she asked, a little scared that learning the full depth of Quickblade’s insult might hurt her feelings.
‘The Jilters, as they so charmingly call the poor girls, are known in more polite circles, and by the tribe in question, as the Evergirls.’
‘Why, and where do they live anyway? Will we meet them?’
‘They are said to live not too far from here, in the marshes and remote hills of the lakes of the Ürxura. But they are fierce and wild, and even more reclusive than the Ürxura which they are said to sometimes ride.’
‘Tell me all you know about them. They sound amazing.’
So Korman told her more about the legend of the Evergirls, while the miles slowly passed:
‘It started with the girl the Boy Raiders never talk about: Jessie the Jilter. She had been in love with one of the first leaders, Coder the Wise. She thought he was in love with her, and they were going to change the Code so that Boy Raiders could marry and still be Raiders. But he had changed his mind, while for her the spell of Everchild was broken and she grew up. So Coder was forced by his own rules (which forbade any grownup from living as a Boy Raider) to expel her. She left, taking a good many of the girl Raiders with her, and was last seen heading for the Lake District.
‘So, she was not really a jilter, but jilted, and she called her new band the Evergirls, as she wanted none of them to have the pain she bore. When many years had gone by and she lay dying, it is said that she made the new Evergirl leader swear she would never ever speak to a Boy or any Outsider, or allow any of her band to do so.
‘But when she had breathed her last, some of the Evergirls were grief-stricken, and returned to the Boy Raiders. Yet most remained in the marshy uplands of the Plains of the Ürxura. So the Evergirls faded into legend. All anyone knew was that sometimes a herd of wild ponies (some said they were Ürxura) would appear out of the mists and eerie cries were heard (of the Evergirls, it was presumed) as the enemy was thrown into confusion and driven into the marshes, where they were killed one by one with poisoned darts or sickle-shaped throwing blades. But rarely would any of the Evergirls actually be seen. It is said that they wore magical tunics woven from the silvery hair of the Ürxura which they gathered from the groves where the Ürxura slept and rubbed themselves against the treetrunks.’
‘Maybe I will join them. That’d show him,’ Shelley thought. But she didn’t say it to Korman, and the thought of never having a boyfriend began to depress her.
A long while later, as the Fire Hills rose up ahead and glowed in the afternoon sun, Shelley asked, to get her mind off Quickblade and the Evergirls, ‘Is the Fire World really full of fire, or what? Does anyone live on it?’
‘It is a world of volcanoes and geysers, but not full of fire,’ said Korman as they trudged on up the valley (which was now finally beginning to narrow) beside a little stream that cut through layers of white pumice and red scoria. ‘There are also great forests on it, and lakes and seas, and strange birds and beasts, but no creatures with speech, except the Salamanders. After the planting of the Tree of that world, with its indigo Arcra-jewel, people from the Order, Sky-Travellers and Tímathians, came (via your own world, since the three Hidden Worlds, Air, Fire, and Water, were all accessed only through Edartha) and they settled it. They set up smithies there and dug mines and smelted ores.
‘There the first Fireswords were made, with the help of the Makers. The one I bear was forged in the secret smithy of Lighthelm in the Golden Age. But by then they had begun to use crystals, not just steel. And this was finally their undoing. They would not listen to the Salamanders, and made crystals that were too powerful, requiring great purity of mind. Fire leaped from crystal to crystal, and many were killed, but still they tried to build ever more powerful weapons, and eventually there was a terrible war. The Salamanders, who had remained aloof, now commanded those who remained to forsake their weapons or leave. Then, after the departure of the Makers they closed their world off from all others.’
‘Was that very long ago?’
‘Eight thousand six hundred years, perhaps, have passed since that day.’
‘Oh, is that all? Not long at all…’ Korman turned to look at her.
‘No, not very long at all, in the larger scheme of things.’
‘I was joking, you know!’
‘I know. But I was serious. We float on a sea of time, and our little sojourn here is like a tiny fairy boat on that immense ocean. Or, it is as if we live in a great forest, and our actions plant seeds which will turn into new trees, among which others will live long after we are gone.’
‘I guess so… No wonder you never seem to be in a hurry, if you see it like that! So anyway, there aren’t any Salamanders on Aeden now?’
‘I have not heard of any. It is not hot enough for them.’
The sides of the valley were now steep and rocky. There were cave entrances peering down on either side, which made Shelley uneasy.
‘Does anyone live in those caves?’ she asked Korman.
‘What caves?’ he replied, puzzled.
‘Over there… oh, no, it’s just the shadows on the rocks. Funny, it looked just like…’
‘We are tired, Shelley. We may start seeing things. These are strange mountains, full of the magic of the Fire World, though not as far as I know actually linked to it by any Portal.’
‘But doesn’t anyone live around here?’ she persisted.
‘Perhaps a hermit community still survives,’ he replied. ‘There was one once, somewhere in the Fire Hills. They called themselves the Hermits of the Salamander. They were ascetics, not marrying or joining in the celebrations of the people, and magicians, seeking esoteric powers. I am suspicious of such ways. But they were honoured as wise men, and the people brought them food and drink. I see no sign of life; perhaps they all died out, since they had no children.’
Shelley shuddered at the thought of the mouldering skeletons of magician-hermits in caves, and forced her weary legs to hurry past, and for once Korman trailed behind her.
But she saw no more signs of any caves, and soon they came to a hollow (Korman said it was a crater) in the side of the mountain spur, very near the top of the pass. Gnarled bushes, moulded by the mountain winds, grew around its lip, but inside it was sheltered, with a grassy patch at the bottom. They rested there, thankful for the shelter, and ate as the sun went down behind the peaks of the Fire Hills which loomed above them on either side of the pass. After eating some of the precious supply of bread and olives, both lost in their own thoughts, they took out the last slices of the dried apple. Shelley was too tired to talk any more, but listened as Korman said the grace over the apple slices with their little star-shaped holes, symbol of hope, yet empty of seeds. When they had eaten them, she felt revived deep inside, though her limbs were still weary and sore.
Korman was pondering the road ahead. His hand went to his breast pocket as he began considering the nature and possible uses of Hillgard’s gift. ‘It is perilous, that much he made clear. And if even he is wary of it, I must be doubly careful.’