guards might lean from the walls and worry about the deranged cattle and sheep and pigs that
humped and bumped against the stone, and shudder at the foulness of their human cousins
shifting among the beasts, they did not think for a moment of what might be crawling under their
feet.
39
The Mother of Races
―The Enchantress?‖ Faraday said. ―But…but I thought…‖ Urbeth waved a paw lazily in
the air, admiring the way red shards of firelight glinted from her talons.
―You thought what?‖ she asked.
―I…I thought…‖
―All who know of you,‖ Drago said, ―believed you long dead. Or just a myth, or legend.‖
Urbeth laughed softly, but her humour was edged with cynicism, and neither Drago nor
Faraday smiled with her.
―And of that you would know much, would you not?‖ Urbeth said, addressing Faraday
rather than Drago. ―For were you not virtually forgotten in but forty years? I have had some
fifteen thousand years of forgetfulness, of being consigned to legend.‖
She almost spat the last word.
Faraday bowed her head in understanding. ―And yet I have managed to escape my
entrapment in the flesh of a doe,‖ she said, shooting Drago a glance, ―while here you still linger
in the flesh of a—‖
―Bear!‖ Urbeth cried. ―A bear. But you don‘t understand.‖ She waved a languid paw
over her form. ―I enjoy this form, and I wear it by choice. Now…‖
Urbeth slapped her paw on the floor in a business-like manner. ―Noah sent you north to
talk with me, yes, and thus we must talk. First, I would tell you a little of myself, and of my
purpose in life, and perhaps that will allow you to realise the significance of the Story of the
Sparrow.‖
The feathered lizard peeked from under the bed covers, then slowly crawled out as the
bear continued to speak.
―My name is Urbeth, and has always been, although legend has assigned to me the title of
Enchantress. Bah! It is a glib title, given how it has been bandied about these past years.
―I was born to loving parents into a world heavy with magic.‖
―Wait,‖ Drago said, then apologised for his interruption. ―I thought that magic only came
with—‖
―With the Icarii. And their Star Dance.‖ Urbeth grinned. ―Learn the first lesson, Drago.
This land itself is invested with magic—you should know where it comes from—and it does not
need the tinkling accompaniment of the Star Dance to work its wonders.
―Well, to continue. I was entranced by the magic, and captivated by it. It used me to its
will, and from my body issued forth three sons, three sons who founded the Icarii, Charonite and
Acharite races.
―The sparrow founded the Icarii race, and perhaps it is more than enough time that they
should learn his humility.‖
―And the Charonites?‖ Drago asked.
Urbeth glanced at the lizard, which had now crept down to the very foot of the bed, his
eyes bright upon her.
―Who fathered the Charonites has no bearing on this tale,‖ Urbeth said, and shifted
uncomfortably.
―But he was of undoubted magic,‖ Faraday said, ―for he fathered a race of magicians.‖
―Quite so,‖ Urbeth said. ―I chose my lovers well. All of them planted enchanted seed.‖
There was a silence.
―All?‖ Drago asked softly. ―But the Acharites have no magic at—‖
Urbeth snarled. ―Are you not listening?‖
―Urbeth, who fathered the Acharite race?‖ Faraday asked. Her voice trembled slightly.
Urbeth took her time in answering. When she finally did, her voice was heavy with
memory, and perhaps even love. ―He was the best lover of all. I would have kept him more
company, save that he lived in a place I could not share.‖
―Noah,‖ Drago said suddenly. ― Noah fathered the Acharite race.‖
Urbeth nodded. ―He did.‖
―And the Acharites are magical?‖
In answer, Urbeth looked to Faraday. ―Faraday. You carry only Acharite blood. Tell me,
are the Acharites magical?‖
Faraday opened her mouth to answer in the negative, but then she slowly closed it again,
remembering. Besides herself, there had been others with certain skills, hadn‘t there?
―Goodwife Renkin,‖ she said. ―She was infused with magic, but I thought it a product of
her association with the Mother.‖
―Mostly, yes, but Goodwife Renkin came from a long line of Goodwives who were able
to somehow tap into a tiny portion of their ability,‖ Urbeth said. ―Women who muttered spells
over their newborn children, and their husbands‘ corn-blistered feet. Women who knew the right
paths to keep the sheep from harm. But there is more, Faraday, and you know it.‖
Faraday stared at her. ―Noah gave me power—‖
―No!‖ Urbeth snapped. ―He gave you nothing. He merely awoke your latent powers.‖ Her
voice softened. ―He is, after all, and in a manner of speaking, your father.‖
She turned back to Drago. ―The TimeKeepers destroyed all the Icarii power that your
mother had buried, boy, you know that…but what of your Acharite blood?‖
Drago did not answer her, but merely stared.
―I can see that I shall have to explain more, and tell some of my own tale,‖ Urbeth said,
and settled herself more comfortably. ―Throw another log on that fire, Drago. It is not often I get
the chance to toast my belly so efficiently.
―Ah, that‘s better. Now, as you related in the Story of the Sparrow—ah! he had a wit
rarely found!—I bore three sons. The eldest, who eventually founded the Acharite race, I cast
from my door, and turned my back on all his pleas for love.‖
―You favoured the younger two,‖ Faraday said, trying to think it through. ―The founders
of the Icarii and Charonite races. Magical races. And yet you said that the eldest son had as much
magic…‖
―As much potential magic,‖ Urbeth replied. ―I cast him from my door and from my heart
because he denied his heritage. He found the very word ‗enchantment‘ distasteful, let alone the
concept and the power itself that lay in his breast.‖
She shot Drago a significant glance, and Drago averted his eyes.
―The Acharites have ever been distrustful of magic,‖ Faraday said. ―Thus the Seneschal
were able to attain such a tight grip on their souls.‖
―Aye,‖ Urbeth said. ―My eldest son was a fool. He had so much! And yet he denied it. He
buried it deep, and refused to allow its presence. When I realised that he would never accept his
heritage, I grew angry, and cast him from my heart and my house before I gave in to the
overwhelming temptation to eat him.‖
Urbeth paused, and bared her teeth in a silent snarl, as if she could see her eldest son
standing before her now—a tempting meal.
―The pain must have been the greater,‖ Faraday said very softly, ―for that the son was
fathered by he whom you loved most. To lose a child made in such great love…‖
Drago shot an unreadable look at her. Did she think of Axis all day? And long for him all
night?
Urbeth chose not to comment on Faraday‘s words. ―So my son wandered onto the
plains,‖ she said, ―and interbred with the humanoid peoples he found there. From his loins
sprang the Acharites, a breed hatefully resistant to all forms of magic, a breed given to murdering
all wielders of magic they encountered, and yet a breed who carried the seed of profound magic
within their breasts.‖
―And what does this magic consist of?‖ Drago asked. ―How may the Acharites use it?‖
―Ah,‖ Urbeth said. ―Thereby lies a problem. Both you and Faraday have managed to
touch the magic within, and with investigation and acceptance, you will learn how to use it, and
to what uses it may be put.‖
―Thus our ability to withstand the ravages of the Demons,‖ Faraday said.
She turned to Drago, her eyes bright with excitement. ―All the Acharites will be able
to—‖
―No!‖ Urbeth barked, and Faraday turned back to her.
―No,‖ the Enchantress repeated more softly. ― Hear me out. My eldest—I can no longer
bear to utter his name!—rejected his heritage so completely that the ability to use it has now
virtually been lost to all Acharites. There is only one way that a person of Acharite blood can
touch his or her enchantment. A process they must experience that can shock their power to the
fore. Faraday? Drago? What experience did you both share, what shattering process, that enabled
both of you to touch your power?‖
They sat in silence for some moments, and when Drago spoke, his voice was peculiarly
flat.
―We have both died,‖ he said, ―and been reborn. Recreated.‖
―Yes,‖ Urbeth said. ―The only way you can use the heritage your ancestor chose to deny
for you is to die—and then somehow manage a re-creation.‖
Again, silence.
―But the Goodwives…‖ Faraday said.
―They touched what can only be called a ten thousandth of their heritage,‖ Urbeth said.
―And Goodwife Renkin was so powerful only because the Mother chose her as a conduit.‖