Voyage of the Fox Rider (2 page)
B
efore the Separation.
…Now there is a phrase that has appeared more than once in my Mithgarian sagas.
Before the Separation
.
It all has to do with another phrase:
Once upon a time
.
You see, if the old tales are true, then
Once upon a time
there lived on this planet peoples of myth and creatures of fable. Alongside Mankind did these fantastic beings exist—pixies and fairies, elves and goblins, chimeras and brownies and sphinx…and whatever else you’d care to name.
Once upon a time…before the Separation
.
You see, there
must
have been a
Separation
if the mythical peoples and mystical creatures are gone, for I am certain that we didn’t kill them all—they are much too wily, much too magical—and so, they
must
have simply
left
.
And if gone, where gone?
Elsewhere!
That’s where.
In between! Into the twilight! Into the dawn!
Why? Why are they gone?
I have a theory:
Somewhere along the way, arrogant Mankind claimed all the world as his own to do with as he willed. Man’s appetites were insatiable, and he multiplied and multiplied and multiplied, seemingly without limit, and wherever he went he raped the land and poisoned the soil and air and waters of the world. Slowly, gradually, the legendary folk and fabled creatures were displaced, were pushed back, were shoved into ever smaller enclaves. Always
did they hope that Man would mend his ways, see what he was doing, what he had wrought, and reverse the destruction; always did they hope that Man would begin to revere the earth which sustained him. But that was not to be, for Man continued his wanton ways, destroying as he went.
And so, the day came when the harm reached a point where the peoples of legend could no longer abide what Man had done and was continuing to do. And so they simply gathered up the creatures of fable and left, separated themselves from this destructive beast named Man. They went
elsewhere
, away from this world, to a place where Man was not.
This was
the Separation
.
You may ask, “Does he truly believe in
any
of this?”
My answer is, “Look around. Do you see any creatures of fable, peoples of legend? Or do you instead see the ravage of Mankind?”
Perhaps someday if Man becomes sane and begins caring for the world, begins reversing the destruction he hath wrought, restores the soil and air and waters, restores the forests and fens and mountains and wilderness to what they once were, and takes fair measure to reduce his own numbers to a tenth or a hundredth or even a thousandth of what they are—let me see, five point five billion divided by a thousand…perhaps it is enough—if he does all these things, then it just may be that the peoples and creatures of legend and fable will return.
I would hope so, for the world is a sadder place without them.
Before the Separation
.
Words to make you cry.
—
Dennis L. McKiernan
September 1992
1.
Voyage of the Fox Rider
is a tale which takes place before the Separation.
2.
Voyage of the Fox Rider
is also a tale which takes place
before
the Great War of the Ban, hence, the
Rûpt
are free to roam about in daylight as well as night, although it is told that they prefer to do their deeds in the dark of night rather than in the light of day.
3. This tale was reconstructed from the fragments of one of the logs of the Elvenship
Eroean
. I have in several places filled in the gaps with notes from other references, but in the main the tale is true to its source.
4. As I did in
The Eye of the Hunter
, I have used transliterated archaic Greek to represent the magical language of the Black Mages. But in the case of all other Mages, I have used Latin.
5. There are many instances where in the press of the moment, the Pysks, Dwarves, Men, Mages, Elves, and others spoke in their native tongues; yet to avoid burdensome translations, where necessary I have rendered their words in Pellarion, the Common Tongue of Mithgar. However, some words and phrases do not lend themselves to translation, and these I’ve left unchanged or, in special cases, I have enclosed in angle brackets a substitute term which gives the “flavor” of the word (i.e.,
DelfLord is but a single word, though a capital L nestles among its letters. Also note that swivelled, traveller, and several other similar words are written in the Pendwyrian form of Pellarion and are not misspelled.
6. The Elven language of Sylva is rather archaic and formal. To capture this flavor, I have properly used thee and thou, hast, doth, and the like; however, in the interest of readability, I have tried to do so in a minimal fashion, eliminating some of the more archaic terms.
7. The speech of the Children of the Sea is riddled with chirps and pops and whistles and clicks. I have used the ! and ¡ to indicate two of these sounds, the ! representing a “tick,” and the ¡ representing a “tock.”
8. For the curious, the
w
in Rwn takes on the sound of
uu
(w
is
after all a double-u), which in turn can be said to sound like
oo
(as in spoon). Hence, Rwn is
not
pronounced Renn, but instead
is
pronounced Roon, or Rune.
Fox Rider, Fox Rider,
Where are you bound?
After my true love,
Wherever he’s found
Deep in my dreams
The whole world ‘round
.
Dreams are at times
nought but fanciful images
in a shifting shadowland
.
HAPTER
1
Aurora
Winter, 1E9572-73
[Twenty-Two Months Past]
F
arrix stood in the hip-deep snow on the crest of the hill under the winter sky and watched as the curtains of the aurora twisted and rippled, the colors randomly shifting among the hues of the spectrum, among the crimsons and saffrons and jades and indigos and lavenders.
Of a sudden—“Hoy, Jinnarin, did you see that?”
“See what?”
Farrix turned to the female beside him. “The aurora. It seemed to flash, and a plume, a large plume, streamed outward, southward, there”—Farrix pointed to the eastern horizon—“down low. I’m certain I saw it.”
Jinnarin shook her head. “I was not looking.”
“Hmm. I wonder…”
“You wonder what?”
“I wonder if those Mages are up to something. I mean, I’ve been watching the aurora all my life, and I never—”
“Oh, Farrix, you
always
think the Mages are up to something.”
“Nevertheless, Jinnarin—”
“My love,” interjected Jinnarin, “I say let us forget it and go back—”
“Hoy! There went another one,” exclaimed Farrix. “Streaming south, just like the first.”
Jinnarin turned and gazed long at the northeastern rim of the nighttime sky…to no avail, for no other
plume streamed forth from the writhing drapery of the spectral light—at least, no plume that she could see.
Farrix, too, stared across the winter-barren branches of the hoary trees of Darda Glain, seeking but not finding.
Over the next month, Farrix watched as the aurora twisted and writhed, streamers of luminance occasionally flowing down from the north to the eastern horizon. At last he came to Jinnarin—rucksack on his back, bow in hand, arrows in his quiver—saying, “Love, I’m off to follow the flumes, to see just where they are going.”
Jinnarin, noting the jut of his jaw, realizing that no amount of argument would sway his decision to chase this will-o’-the-wisp of spectral light, hugged him and kissed him, her heart somewhat heavy, though not extraordinarily so…for she and Farrix had been mates for several millennia, and Jinnarin was resigned to his “whims.”
With a whistle, Farrix mounted up on Rhu, and off through the forest of Darda Glain they headed northeasterly, Jinnarin standing before the hollow tree where they lived, waving her loved one good-bye.
HAPTER
2
Night Visitor
Early Spring, 1E9574
[Six Months Past]
I
n a small cottage on the outskirts of Kairn, the city on the island of Rwn, an eld Man—that is, with his white hair and beard he
appeared
to be an eld Man—heard a soft tap on his door. He did not look away from his instrument, but instead continued to mutter to himself while peering along the arm of the astrolabe, sighting out through the open roof trap and into the springtime spangle of the nighttime heavens above.
Again came the tapping on the door.
“Go away!”
Softly, softly, another tap sounded in the darkened room.
“I said, go away! I am busy!”
Once more came the persistent tapping.
“Oh bother!” Irritated, the eld Man gestured, and a soft blue glow sprang into being before him. “All right, all right, I’m coming!” he called out peevishly, jotting a note in a journal lying open before him on the astrolabe stand.
Snapping the journal shut and sliding from the tall stool, the elder hobbled across the room, muttering all the while—“Not enough that the hearthlights and street lanterns from the city interfere, but now some
fool
has to come along and…”
Flinging the door open and querulously snapping, “Well, what do you—?” the Man’s words chopped to
silence, for there afoot on the threshold was a tiny person no more than twelve inches tall. Dressed in varying shades of grey, she was, and a tiny bow and a quiver of arrows were slung across her back. Her hair was mouse brown, and her eyes were cobalt blue, and behind her stood a black-footed red fox.
She looked up at the Man, his face illuminated by the blue glow, his features ghastly in the spectral light. Nevertheless, she squared her shoulders and asked, “Are you Alamar the Mage?” Though high-pitched, her voice came softly.
“
Hmph!
I never thought to see a Pysk on
my
doorstone.”
“Are you Alamar the Mage?” she repeated.
At the Man’s nod a look of relief spread over her face. “Oh, I’m so glad. My name is Jinnarin”—she gestured toward the fox—“and Rux and I have come a long way to find you. You see, Farrix is missing.”
HAPTER
3
Herb Tea and Wild Honey
Early Spring, 1E9574
[Six Months Past]
A
s Jinnarin uncinched a harness strap and hefted the travelling packs from Rux’s back, Alamar rummaged about in a cupboard, grumbling, “Herb tea. Herb tea.
Ha!
In the back—dratted mice.”
A smile flickered across Jinnarin’s face.
Farrix
said
that Alamar was eccentric, yet surely the Mage doesn’t believe that mice conspire against him, hiding the tea
. She dropped the packs to the hearthstone and then selected twigs from the fireside wood box and added them to the faint coals.