The Chronicles of Anuru
Varata Lohikäärmeta:
The Tales of the Wyrm
(Volume I)
by
D. Alexander Neill
© Copyright D. Alexander Neill, 2012
ISBN 978-0-9880653-6-9
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License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Contents
Author’s Note
A Foreword from the Editor
First Rune: The Tale of the Making
Second Rune: The Wave-Maiden
Third Rune: The Sacrifice of Miros
Fourth Rune: The Deed of Bræagond Æyllian
Fifth Rune: The Lay of Ironfist
Sixth Rune: The Hejlaggr Women
Seventh Rune: The Lay of the Daughter of Exile
Eighth Rune: The Wood-Maidens
Ninth Rune: The Fall of the Sorcerer-King
Tenth Rune: The Mountain-Dwarf
Eleventh Rune: The Prize of Alfarran
Twelth Rune: Come, Maidens!
Thirteenth Rune: The Lament of Fineleor
Fourteenth Rune: The King of Winter
Fifteenth Rune: The Jewels of Harad
Sixteenth Rune: The Arms of the Elflord
Seveneenth Rune: The Dirge of the Betrayer
Eighteenth Rune: The Three Tribes of the Dwarves
Nineteenth Rune: The Supreme Soul has Fallen
Twentieth Rune: Where are the Dragons?
Twenty-First Rune: The Lay of the Bridge of Bones
Twenty-Second Rune: In Eldarcanum
Twenty-Third Rune: The Ballad of Perky and Ella
Twenty-Fourth Rune: The Apotheosis of Miros
Appendix – The Ancient World
Epilogue
Other books by D. Alexander Neill
Author’s Note
This is a book of poetry, verse and prose that is intended to serve as a companion volume to the various novels that make up The Chronicles of Anuru. All of the material found herein is original; most of it is new, but some of it has already been published in my various novels. Eventually, all of it and more will make its way into my books; I offer it here simply for the enjoyment of those who, like me, derive pleasure from writing and reading this sort of thing, and find it handy to have it all in one place.
In due course there will be a second volume, and perhaps, Powers willing, a third. In the meantime, I wish you all the best – and I thank you most sincerely for reading.
- D. Alexander Neill
June 2012
P.S. Don’t mind Gwen. She’s a bit of a handful, but her heart’s always been in the right place.
A foreword from Gwendolyne, your Editor
Salvé, lector, as the elves say. How’s tricks?
My barrister (yes, I’ve got one on retainer; don’t ask) has advised me to tell you up front that the book you’re holding in your hands right now is forbidden knowledge. More precisely, it’s stolen. You should probably do your best not to be caught with it.
There – full disclosure. I feel better already. Virtue really is its own reward, isn’t it?
Let me explain. At the dawn of time, the Universe was spawned out of the chaos of the endless Void by the two great forces, Ana and Uru, the Light and the Dark, in perfect balance. They also gave birth to the Anari and the Uruqua, the Powers of Light and of Dark, to contest for mastery, and thus determine for all time whether good or evil was the stronger. Bræa Lightbringer was first among the Anari; and her brother, Bardan Eyðar, the Ender, was first among the Uruqua. They fought, creating Servants and Minions to do their bidding and serve as soldiers in their great battles; and together they wrought Anuru, the place of light and darkness, to serve as their battlefield, populating it with all manner of creatures to participate in their war.
But everything, everyone, that Bræa and Bardan made was an expression of their own will, wrought within the confines of the Balance, and thus could never grow beyond it. And so Bræa made her great gamble: she created her Children, the Brahiri or Kindred, out of the stuff of Anuru, weaving into their essence threads of the Void, so that they might one day grow beyond the Balance, and exceed the will and intent of the Powers, and even of Ana and Uru themselves. It worked, but not as Bræa had hoped. Her Children – elvii and Dwéorga, holbytlan and man – went their own ways. Some obeyed her, and some rebelled. They built realms and kingdoms and empires, choosing their own gods from among the Anari and the Uruqua alike. Great cities rose and fell, wars of mortals ravaged Anuru, fire and blood washed away much that had been built; and in despair the Powers departed, abandoning mortals to their own fate.
There’s more on this in “The Tale of the Making”, at the beginning of this book, and still more in the Appendix at the end. If you’re able to plow through it all then you’re a better man than I am. Which wouldn’t be hard, since I’m a Halfling, and a woman.
Anyway, the great kingdoms of the elves failed, and darkness fell, lasting a score of centuries. The darkness ended when the dragons of light, led by the Argent Three, brought the Tarinas Valtakirjas – the Book of the Powers – to the elf-king. The Three did something else, too; they inaugurated a secret society, the Brotherhood of the Wyrms, to serve as their agents among the Children of Bræa. Each Brother was – is – given a copy of Varata Lohikäärmeta, “The Tales of the Wyrm”, the first volume of which you now hold in your hands. The Tales – or Runes, as they’re called for some reason; I don’t know why – that are contained in the books vary by source, by author, and by language, but they all have one thing in common: they all recount stories of valour or import that the Argent Three thought worthy of the telling. Whenever members of the Brotherhood gather, one among their number will tell one of the tales, binding all together in shared history and purpose.
There’s a lot more to the history of the Brotherhood, and the history of the world for that matter, but you can figure all that out on your own. The first rule of the Brotherhood of Wyrms is that we’re not supposed to talk about the Brotherhood of Wyrms. I’m not really big on the whole ‘rules’ thing, as you’ve probably guessed. Besides, there are plenty of books out there that talk about it; you can do your own research. History bores the bull-cobbles out of me.
The books belonging to the Brotherhood, I should probably mention, are ensorcelled. They have two interesting properties. The first is that they update themselves. Some of the Tales are as old as the World Made; others were penned in the last few decades. Whenever a skald or singer creates a new, worthy tale, it will appear in the books of all Brothers. Speaking from personal experience, this means that the damned things keep getting heavier. I’m glad I won’t live a thousand years, or I’d probably need a wheelbarrow to trundle mine around. The second property is that they cannot be copied; anyone who tries to write down anything that the books contain finds himself penning gibberish. That’s why this book – the one you now hold – is so important (and – ahem – valuable). I obtained it from a colleague who renounced the Brotherhood. Actually, she didn’t so much renounce it as transcend it; it turns out that she was rather more than just a “Brother of Dragons”. I could tell you a lot more about her, but I think I’ll stop there; she’s got a nasty temper, a very long arm, and even fewer scruples than me. I’d rather not tempt fate any more than I already have.
A Word
on Sources
After I got fed up with trying to figure out where these stories came from, I decided to do a little research on my own. Here’s what I managed to find out:
Æfenléoð Hargóinna means “The Evensongs of Hargóin.” They were written by a dwarven skald (in Dweorgaspræc, naturally) by a fellow named Harwéac Hargóin. Today he’s one of the biggest names in poetry and what-not, for two reasons: first, because he writes a lot of music and plays the tambours like a drunken monkey; and second, because he was one of the heroes that helped defeat Glycomondas the Spellweaver, the King of the Shadelves, when he invaded Dweorgaheim sixty years or so ago. One of the songs Hargóin wrote about that battle is found in the following pages. I don’t think it translates very well, but what do you want? Singing dwarves always sound like they’re gargling potatoes. Oh – I should probably mention that I heard Hargóin perform not that long ago, in a little place called Ganesford, in Zare. He’s getting old, but he still knows how to bang a drum.
“The Ballads of the Bjerglands” are a easier both to swallow, and to follow. They’re written in the travelling tongue by a fellow called Ian McLaren, who spends most of his time in the Zaran hinterlands, wailing and rhyming for meat and mead. He’s good. But they’re not all poems and songs; he occasionally wanders into prose, which I don’t like all that much. Puts me to sleep. If it puts you to sleep too, you should make sure there’s nothing pointy on the table in front of you that might get stuck in your forehead when you pass out.
Canto Renovatium – “The Song of the Renewal” – is a load of pretentious nonsense written by that master of elven rhetoric and balderdash, Ceorlinus Rectinarius. Everybody loves his stuff, and I can’t for the life of me imagine why. His plays are all right, I suppose, but his poetry gets a little tiresome. He was a hell of an historian, though, and penned the definitive treatises on the history of the Ancient and Modern Worlds. An excerpt from the former can be found in the Appendix at the end of this book.
The Charitráni Sarvaloka may be one of the oldest sources represented here. I’m told that the name means “Tales of Valour of the Heavenly Host”, and that it was written in the tongue of the celestial realms long before Bræa made her children. I wouldn’t know; I wasn’t around to see it. Nobody knows who wrote the Charitráni. Hopefully they don’t have copyright laws in heaven.
The Libram Regnum Tertius means “The Book of the Third House”, and it doesn’t have an author either; it’s a collection of songs, poems and stories dealing with the high elves and their kingdom. I’ve already mentioned the Tarinas Valtakirjas, which means “Tales from the Book of the Powers”; all I know about those is that the Book was written in wyrms’-speech, which suggests that dragons wrote it. Or somebody who can talk to dragons. I do know that “The Legends of the Golden Teacher” (Tarusta Lehtori Kultainen) was actually written by a dragon – a kulta, or golden dragon, one who called himself Ryskankanakis. I like those ones. Finally, one or two of these come from a set of songs called Victoria Alferiæ, “The Victories of the Elves”. They were written by an elven skald called Amalux Cantor – a stage name if I ever heard one – and they tend to be fairly turgid epics about battles and tragedies and what-not. Good luck getting through them.
Also, there are some other bits and pieces that come from miscellaneous sources. I don’t know all of the authors; I just thought I should throw these ones into the pile and let you sort through them. I can’t do everything myself, now, can I?
So now you know as much as I do about where these stories come from. You know what the worst part is? There’s not a single limerick in the whole damned book. Some people have no taste at all.
All that to say that this book is unique, which is why it was so expensive. You paid for it, though, so I hope you enjoy it. Me...I’m just glad I don’t have to carry two of the things around anymore. And if you happen to find yourselves in Bymill, in the Zaran Bjerglands, drop by my pub, The Halfling’s Hearth, where the waitresses are cold, and the ale’s hot. Or something like that. Marketing was never my strong suit. Anyway, if you do show up, I promise not to cheat you. Much.
As for this book, bring it with you and I’ll sign it. Who knows? Someday it might be worth something. You’re welcome.
In the meantime, good luck. Or as the elves say – mundus vult decipi.
Gwendolyne of Æryn
The Halfling’s Hearth
Bymill, Zare
15 Efterjule, 1055 NH
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First Rune: The Tale of the Making
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(from the Tarinas Valtakirjas)