agriculturally and commercially. It was also home to
the oldest cities in the world, each of which grew up around the home temple of
one of the Ancient Gods of Dreanger. Seven hundred years before Gordimer the
Lion, when the Church became the official religion of the Old Brothen
Empire—Dreanger was a province of the Empire then—the temples were stormed and
torn apart by followers of the fanatic Josephus Alegiant. The priests were
murdered.
Josephus was a mad devotee of Aaron of Chaldar. Aaron was one of the Holy
Founders of the Church, born in Chaldar
in the Holy Lands. Chaldar gave its name to that whole religious movement
Chaldar existed still as a dusty village beside the Well of Peace.
Aaron was the first of the Holy Founders to preach the Chaldarean creed. His
great message had been one of universal peace, love, and equality, informed with
an abiding loathing of violence in every form.
Two hundred fifty years before Gordimer another wave of murderous apostles of
love and peace swept through the Lower Kingdom. It swamped the ruling
Chaldareans, destroying both their works and anything pagan that had survived
Josephus Alegiant That consisted of thousands of books. Burned, those took with
them the secrets, knowledge, and histories of thousands of years.
The Peqaad warriors of the Conquest were ignorant, superstitious, unbathed
desert tribesmen frequently only weeks past their epiphanous moments of
conversion. They came to Dreanger knowing a deep terror of books and writing.
Literate men always worked evil by taking advantage of their education.
From earliest times the Middle Kingdom was the seat of Dreanger's governments.
Even when priests ruled and kings were gods and Dreanger prostrated itself to
the Tyranny of the Night whether sun or moon ruled the sky. And al-Qarn, wearing
other names before the Conquest, had been the seat of administration since
before men had begun to distinguish their rulers from their gods.
These days the Upper Kingdom was wild country, frontier country, snuggled up
against the Slang Mountains, that shielded Dreanger from the south. Chaldarean
cultists and anchorites, and pagan nomads, still haunted the Upper Kingdom, in
company with the ghosts of seven thousand years worth of Dreangerean dead.
Today the Upper Kingdom was commonly called the Kingdom of the Dead. The barren
hills on either bank of the Shirne, for as far as thirty miles back, were
networked with tunnels that led to the tombs of half a thousand generations. The
Instrumentalities of the Night made grave robbers and tomb raiders wish they had
chosen more auspicious careers.
The original significance of being buried in the Hills of the Dead had gotten
lost centuries before Josephus Alegiant, but
even now, amongst those who claimed unalloyed Dreangerean blood, there was a
social imperative for having one's corpse laid down underneath the Hills of the
Dead.
That part of the Upper Kingdom had accumulated immense reserves of dark magic.
Only the Holy Lands boasted a superior supernatural status and more concentrated
magical power.
The Wells of Ihrian were the Heart of the Soul of the World.
GORDIMER ASKED, "WHAT DO YOU THINK OF CAPTAIN TAGE,
Rashal?"
"I think you're letting your fears get the better of you again, my friend. That
man might be your most loyal and valuable follower. He's truly, totally
Sha-lug." No man but er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen would dare speak so directly to
Gordimer the Lion.
The marshal was not pleased. But he could do nothing. Much as he hated it, he
was at er-Rashal's mercy.
Gordimer had great difficulty grasping the fact that not everyone thought the
way he did, that every man was not a slave to bloody ambition.
Captain Tage was a competent man. How could he not... ?
Er-Rashal said, "Huge events will overtake us in coming years. If you go on the
way you have been, those events will devour you, me, Dreanger, and the Kaifate
of al-Minphet. Because you, driven
the oldest cities in the world, each of which grew up around the home temple of
one of the Ancient Gods of Dreanger. Seven hundred years before Gordimer the
Lion, when the Church became the official religion of the Old Brothen
Empire—Dreanger was a province of the Empire then—the temples were stormed and
torn apart by followers of the fanatic Josephus Alegiant. The priests were
murdered.
Josephus was a mad devotee of Aaron of Chaldar. Aaron was one of the Holy
Founders of the Church, born in Chaldar
in the Holy Lands. Chaldar gave its name to that whole religious movement
Chaldar existed still as a dusty village beside the Well of Peace.
Aaron was the first of the Holy Founders to preach the Chaldarean creed. His
great message had been one of universal peace, love, and equality, informed with
an abiding loathing of violence in every form.
Two hundred fifty years before Gordimer another wave of murderous apostles of
love and peace swept through the Lower Kingdom. It swamped the ruling
Chaldareans, destroying both their works and anything pagan that had survived
Josephus Alegiant That consisted of thousands of books. Burned, those took with
them the secrets, knowledge, and histories of thousands of years.
The Peqaad warriors of the Conquest were ignorant, superstitious, unbathed
desert tribesmen frequently only weeks past their epiphanous moments of
conversion. They came to Dreanger knowing a deep terror of books and writing.
Literate men always worked evil by taking advantage of their education.
From earliest times the Middle Kingdom was the seat of Dreanger's governments.
Even when priests ruled and kings were gods and Dreanger prostrated itself to
the Tyranny of the Night whether sun or moon ruled the sky. And al-Qarn, wearing
other names before the Conquest, had been the seat of administration since
before men had begun to distinguish their rulers from their gods.
These days the Upper Kingdom was wild country, frontier country, snuggled up
against the Slang Mountains, that shielded Dreanger from the south. Chaldarean
cultists and anchorites, and pagan nomads, still haunted the Upper Kingdom, in
company with the ghosts of seven thousand years worth of Dreangerean dead.
Today the Upper Kingdom was commonly called the Kingdom of the Dead. The barren
hills on either bank of the Shirne, for as far as thirty miles back, were
networked with tunnels that led to the tombs of half a thousand generations. The
Instrumentalities of the Night made grave robbers and tomb raiders wish they had
chosen more auspicious careers.
The original significance of being buried in the Hills of the Dead had gotten
lost centuries before Josephus Alegiant, but
even now, amongst those who claimed unalloyed Dreangerean blood, there was a
social imperative for having one's corpse laid down underneath the Hills of the
Dead.
That part of the Upper Kingdom had accumulated immense reserves of dark magic.
Only the Holy Lands boasted a superior supernatural status and more concentrated
magical power.
The Wells of Ihrian were the Heart of the Soul of the World.
GORDIMER ASKED, "WHAT DO YOU THINK OF CAPTAIN TAGE,
Rashal?"
"I think you're letting your fears get the better of you again, my friend. That
man might be your most loyal and valuable follower. He's truly, totally
Sha-lug." No man but er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen would dare speak so directly to
Gordimer the Lion.
The marshal was not pleased. But he could do nothing. Much as he hated it, he
was at er-Rashal's mercy.
Gordimer had great difficulty grasping the fact that not everyone thought the
way he did, that every man was not a slave to bloody ambition.
Captain Tage was a competent man. How could he not... ?
Er-Rashal said, "Huge events will overtake us in coming years. If you go on the
way you have been, those events will devour you, me, Dreanger, and the Kaifate
of al-Minphet. Because you, driven
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