Chapter 8:  The Siege of Irrkengrond

In the time of the Ulrich’s Fever, there was a young human woman named Coraadrin who lived with her mother Atisha. Not long after Tem-sata-tan took the throne, Atisha fell ill with the dreaming fever and Coraadrin was greatly distressed. Coraadrin made intercession to Myliayar for the life of her mother night and day as she cared for Atisha. Her prayers were fervent and filled with grief, for her father, her two older brothers, and her older sister had all been claimed by Acretia’s hideous machinations, and none knew their fate. She alone had been spared from the war, the youngest and only remaining child of the family.

“Please Great Mother!” Coraadrin cried, “Save the one who birthed me for she is all that remains for me on this earth! I know not what would save her or my city! Do not leave me alone!”

Myliayar heard the cries of the anguished daughter but was torn for she wished to honor the commands of Aientas not to strive against other gods. In her tower, she heard the cries of Coraadrin. Seeing her faithfulness to her mother, Myliayar was greatly moved.

“I will not oppose Acretia directly,” thought Myliayar, “But I shall teach this girl how to save her mother. For I cannot act as though I have not seen it.”

So Myliayar went in secret to Coraadrin and began to teach her how to heal the great sickness that slew Ulrich and threatened to undo Irrkengrond. On the fifth day of each week, Myliayar would slip out of the heavens and go to the girl, showing her the ways of healing by night and returning to the heavens before sunrise. After only a month, Coraadrin’s skill had grown such that she had stabilized the condition of her mother. She deteriorated no longer, but it was still beyond the girl to free her mother completely of the terrible visions.

After about a month, Colthan noticed a strange pattern in Myliayar, that she seemed to be weary every sixth day of the week, as though she had labored through the night. So Colthan, curious as to what his mother might be working on, set his mind to uncovering Myliayar’s secret work. One evening when Myliayar went out to teach her student, Colthan followed her from heaven to the city and observed the task his mother undertook there.

Down to the city went Myliayar, and she entered the home of Atisha. Colthan, knowing he would not be able to simply follow his mother into the home, took the form of a bluebird and alighted on the windowsill. Peering inside, he found not his mother, but a young woman tending dutifully to an elderly woman. Patiently he observed her, for he was certain that his mother had entered the house. In time, Myliayar entered from a back room. Inspecting the work that the girl had performed on the older woman, Myliayar spoke.

“You learn quickly, young Coraadrin. I believe your mother will recover from her illness in time.”

“Thank you, Great Mother,” replied Coraadrin, “I am deeply indebted to you, and what you have taught me. I know you have said that you can only teach me enough to save her, but I wish to do more.”

“I know, child,” spoke Myliayar, “but I have already violated the laws of heaven and I fear what should happen if others in the heavens learn of what I had done here.”

At this Coraadrin’s face fell but Myliayar came to her and comforted her.

“Fear not, my child. I will not leave you before you are able to restore your mother’s health.”

And the two turned once again to tend to her mother.

This was curious indeed to Colthan, who found the devotion shown to Atisha by Coraadrin not unlike the devotion he showed those who came to be guests in the heavens above. Colthan watched and noted each of the actions of his mother and how she guided Coraadrin. When he understood the aim of their work, he departed from the window and took on mortal form, going about in Irrkengrond so that he may know more of what beset the old woman. In the streets, he heard the whispers that the plague that infested the city had no cure, that surely it would undo all who lived in the city. He saw those who were consumed with the dream state, and peering into their minds he saw the horrors that haunted their waking sleep. He saw clearly that Myliayar, his mother, had violated the council of Aientas by working against Acretia’s disease, and why she came in secret.

Returning to the home of Atisha and Coraadrin in the form of the bluebird once more, Colthan returned to the window.

“I must go now my child,” said Myliayar, “the sun begins to shine over the city, and the eyes of those in heaven who see this city as their own will soon set their eyes upon it. Your mother recovers slowly. I will return in a week’s time.”

As the Great Mother strode through the door of the small home, the light of the sun poured through the door and bathed Coraadrin’s face. Colthan saw that she was beautiful in the light, for her eyes, a deep amber, seemed to dance with fire. Even the grave expression she wore seemed fair, for in her countenance was clear concern for others that arose from the base of her being.

“Goodbye, Great Mother,” said the young woman, “I will practice what you have taught me till you return.”

Myliayar departed, and Colthan followed, taking great caution to return to the heavens by some other path.

When he returned, the events he witnessed in Irrkengrond filled his mind. What was he to make of this? His mother taught a young woman the healing arts of heaven, and she seemed capable of learning them. She applied herself to the task of caring for her mother, even though the whole city seemed to think all hope was lost.

Knowing that his mother would not return to Coraadrin till the next week, he set out from heaven to Irrkengrond early in the morning to meet with her. In his mind, Colthan had determined that he would offer aid beyond what Myliayar provided, for he saw in Coraadrin a spirit like his own, one he sought to help flourish. He arrived in the form of a man in the early morning, knocking on her door.

“Hello!” he called, after his knock, “I have been told that there is someone who has knowledge of the healing arts here.”

Coming to the door, Coraadrin found before her a young man, with a sharp jaw and clear eyes. His short dark wavy hair was short with small curls in it. His skin was brown, though lighter than Myliayar’s. When bathed in the sun, he almost seemed to shine. He wore a simple shirt that was blue like the sky and tan trousers that stopped at the middle of his shin. He held himself like a runner, with a confident cheery air.

“Hello sir,” greeted Coraadrin, “I have not been trained but I have some skill. What do you need?”

“I seem to have cut my hand,” replied the man, turning his hand so that she could see a shallow gash across the palm.

“I am no great healer or wise woman, but fortunately that cut has no need of one,” said Coraadrin with a bright smile, a hint of sarcasm touching her voice. “Come in and I will clean and bind it for you. Then you can be on your way again.”

“Thank you,” replied Colthan, and hiding a laugh with a smile, he entered the home.

Light shown through a large window onto a table with six chairs in the center of the front room. Several cupboards stood off to the side, with various dried goods hanging above them. Across from the cupboards stood a large stew pot and above it hung another collection of goods. Unlike the garlic and sage and kitchen herbs that hung above the cupboards, the collection above the stew pot was strange and unusual, full of things one would only find in an alchemist’s shop or the lab of a skilled mage.

“You say you have not been trained as a healer, yet you have one of the largest bundles of Thistle’s Brow I have ever seen. One would think you were seeking to treat a city full of soldiers with rotting wounds.”

“Really?” spoke Coraadrin, with an innocent tone. “I did not know that. I thought it was only used to treat fevers.”

“Ah…” responded Colthan, his face falling to the floor.

“What?” she said, turning to face him. “You look downcast. Did I say something wrong?”

Walking to the window, Colthan placed his arm above the sill, allowing the wall to take his weight. His long sigh filled the air with a deep sense of crest fallenness.

“It’s… well, it’s nothing really,” said Colthan. “It’s just I’m a little disappointed in my mother that’s all.”

“Now, I’ve heard of healers being confidants, but please keep in mind that I am not a healer,” replied Coraadrin.

“Ah, but you could be!” cried Colthan, turning to face the young woman. “You could be! You have the dedication, the passion for care. You just need someone who will be honest with you, who isn’t going to hold back anything, but will explore the deepest reaches of the healing arts with you! Oh, this is unbelievable! She hasn’t even told you of the seven basic uses of Thistle’s Brow but she’s taught you how to treat fevers with it!”

“Now I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” spoke the young woman in a stern tone. “Come let’s finish with your hand and then you shall be on your way.”

“I am sorry. I appear to have um… gotten ahead of myself,” replied Colthan, face flush. “I haven’t introduced myself properly. Forgive me, my lady. I was very rude. My name is Colthan, Host of the Heavens, son of Myliayar, brother of Milyos and many other spirits.”

“Well, my name is Coraadrin and now I am sure you are a madman,” she replied, “First, you come seeking a healer for a cut that could simply be bound, and now you claim to be a god. What next? Will you tell me the secrets of Aientas? Or perhaps show me the foundations of the earth?”

“I am afraid I can do neither and now I must confess,” said Colthan, “I first saw you because I was following my mother. So regularly she went down from heaven to the mortals below, and I was curious. I followed her as a little blue bird and sat on the windowsill as she taught you medicine in the night. I was only curious at first, but that night, as I watched you express your desire to do more, I saw how dedicated you were to your mother, and I thought I could offer you my help. I know only a little, the basics of the practice, but I have access to the library of heaven. I would study so I could teach you. However, I understand if you do not want my aid now, for I have made quite a fool of myself.” Moving to the door, Colthan bowed his head respectfully and said, “Well, I will be going then. Farewell, Coraadrin.”

When he was halfway through the door, Coraadrin spoke.

“She bade me not to speak to anyone of what she taught me. You know that, don’t you?”

Colthan half turned in the door and nodded. “I will say nothing of what happened here,” he replied. 

“She feared that other gods would come and stir up trouble by battling Acretia…” Continued Coraadrin, “If I accept your help will you promise me that you will only help me heal others? My family has seen enough of death.”

Squaring himself in the door frame, in earnest he replied, “I have never had any love of death and battle. I am not eager to exercise my power simply to see it displayed. If I help you, I will only teach you the healing arts, all that I know and can learn from the libraries of heaven. Nothing more.”

“Very well. Return tomorrow and we can plan how we will learn together.”

So Colthan returned the next day, and though cautious of the strange god who had come into her home, Coraadrin set to work. After much consideration it was determined that during the day, Colthan would go to the Library of Heaven and learn all he could of the healing arts. Then, each night that Myliayar was not with her, Colthan would come and work with Coraadrin, teaching and practicing healing with her.

In a matter of weeks, Coraadrin’s skill grew like the wildflowers on the rolling plains of the great plateau, blossoming such that her mother completed her recovery. Myliayar was astonished at her progress. If she knew of Colthan’s involvement she said nothing, perhaps knowing what was growing in her son’s heart.

With her mother’s needs accommodated for and health restored, Coraadrin’s attentions turned to the rest of Irrkengrond. Needing more of Colthan’s skills, when he came to her again, she asked if he would come during the day, to aid in the building of clinics and the training of nurses. Colthan was so greatly moved by this expression of concern and the compassion of Coraadrin, that he forgot all caution and secrecy, coming to her in the day. Together they set to work healing the sick of Irrkengrond, and where before there was great weakness in the city because of the abundance of illness, the defense was now shored up through the working of a mortal and a god who dedicated themselves to the healing of the dreaming fever.

This did not go unnoticed by Acretia, for the Lady of War had spies within the city, and seeking to not contend with Irrkengrond again in the open field, she pressed the siege harder than before. Night and day the great siege machines of her pits spewed fire into the city. But the craftsmanship of Ikata stood strong in the face of all the evils of Acretia, who possessed no secret art that could undo the Architect’s handy work.

Now, the renewed vigor of Acretia’s war did not escape the notice of Milyos whose eyes had been ever fixed on the proceedings of the war since its beginning. Noting the fresh veracity of Kilkretha’s attacks, he set about to discover why this second breath of wrath had entered their armies. His eyes roved to and fro at first inspecting the armies of the Acretia, but finding no cause of the change in them his eye turned to Irrkengrond. And what he found there astonished him.

In the city he found camps of healers and nurses trained in the art of heaven, and directing them he found a human woman, and by her side he found, to his great confusion, his brother, Colthan in human form. Quickly, he went to the city, appearing as a mortal before Colthan. 

“Well brother I have seen many strange things in this world of ours but this may yet be the strangest.”

“Brother,” replied Colthan with a jovial cry, “it is good to see you! But why are you here?”

“I could ask the same of you” spoke the god of magic, “you know we are not to help the mortals in their war effort. Since we are not to battle or oppose other gods, and it seems that in Aientas’ estimation this upstart servant of Kalikel’s, who calls herself the lady of war, is a god, and to my eye it seems you oppose her.”

Stunned by the accusation, Colthan’s face fell. “I… uh… well…”

“Ah don’t worry about it!  I just wasn’t expecting you to be the one to defy Aientas. I thought perhaps Kalikel would find some reason to intervene for the sake of her beloved wildlands, or that Silnethren would be grieved for the amount of death wrought on humans. I can’t imagine those who died young from an arrow they never saw possess very many interesting memories to recount in his crystal halls. Regardless, why are you here?”

Composing himself, Colthan sighed and spoke.

“I am here because Acretia unleashed a plague on the city and I saw in Coraadrin, the women you see overseeing this camp, a passion and care for those who are in the city much like my own for the guests of heaven. Seeing this I was filled with compassion for those who were ill in the city and agreed to help her learn the healing arts of our mother. I suppose I have not truly opposed Acretia, as I have not fought her directly and my goal here has been to alleviate the suffering of those who fall ill. I am sure you have seen the horrid fate that befalls those who are ill?”

“I have,” a pensive Milyos replied, “And I find your actions admirable.”

But there was much in the mind of Milyos he did not say. For he sought to find a way to exploit the success of Colthan in aiding Irrkengrond into a justification for him aiding them in their fight, that he might be elevated above Ikata in the estimation of the city. That, by saving their city through his power, he might become the first among the gods honored by Irrkengrond. His crafty mind set about weaving a reason for granting his power to Irrkengrond that would shield him from Aientas’ scorn and grudge.

“So why do you suppose Aientas has not come to you to discuss your activities in the city?” inquired the god of magic, “It is undeniable that your mission is worthy, but it seems unlikely that he has not noticed your comings and goings. He has not passed judgment on you. I find this curious.”

“Aientas is bright and his light shines everywhere, but I simply think he has not noticed. I have not been going to the city in the day and he has many things to attend to,” replied Colthan, attending to a large crate of supplies. “The library is chief among them. Did you know there is a whole section dedicated to the experience of illusions, hallucinations, and visions?”

“I did not,” intoned Milyos, “Well, now, just… what is it exactly you are doing here? You know that he will see you eventually? And when he comes what will you say? All of heaven listens to him, and you are skilled in your speech undoubtedly, but I do not think that you would be able to sway heaven against him. What happens if he lays his scorn on you?”

“Oh come, I doubt he will,” Said Colthan turning to a new set of herbs being delivered to the camp, “and if he does I will speak with him and we will make things right. I don’t see what it matters to you anyway.”

“Because you’re my brother!” replied Milyos, voice rich with concern, “And if you were cast out of heaven I would not be able to console our mother and I myself would be so grieved as to let go of my work till you returned. You have risked so much in coming here! At least tell me what you would say if he came! Let me judge if your answer is swaying or if you would be lost, and I should prepare as such!”

“Fine!” snapped Colthan, “Can you not see that I am trying to save these people? If Aientas came to me, that is what I would say! I would say ‘Behold! Is my work not a work of compassion, can you not see that I work to end the sufferings of mortals at the hands of something beyond their control! Is that not good? Would you punish me for my care? Would you punish me for using what I have to save others? And if that is not enough for you, I have done nothing but give them what we have an abundance of in heaven. Would you begrudge me my generosity with our knowledge?’ That is what I would say to Aientas. Does my answer satisfy you, Milyos? Or shall I go on speaking while they suffer?”

“Aye, I am satisfied,” replied Milyos, his tone now flat, “I will leave you to your work.”

So Milyos swirled once more in his great cloud, and he was satisfied indeed, for he had found his answer and his vindication. And when he returned to the heavens he determined that he would grant his might to the mages of Irrkengrond in the form of a gift. He would instruct them to use it to alleviate their suffering, but he would not keep them from any use of it. In his thoughts, he determined that it would be the Archmage, Kertriss, whom he would offer his might to. So he set about constructing a means by which he might share what he had in abundance.

Now Milyos found that his studies and stores of lore did not contain the tools he needed to craft such a vessel, so he journeyed to what remained of the great forge of heaven and took from Kilomond’s workshop three tools. First, he took a hammer for the shaping of metal. Second, tongs for handling objects forged in flame. And finally, he took an awl with which he might pierce himself, and pour his power into his handiwork. 

For ten days and ten nights the god of magic labored in secret crafting his phial. Of silver hammered thin such that light could pass through it was the container, and it was curved at both the top and the bottom and narrowed in the middle such that it resembled an hourglass. At the base of the phial was a simple round hole that a spigot could be affixed to, and taking the awl, the god of magic pierced himself and poured out his blood and power into the phial. When it was full to the top such that the phial would never run dry while he yet lived, he placed a gold tap into the hole for the spigot. And his work was complete.

Milyos descended upon the earth once again, his great cloud billowing about the tower of the Archmage, and Kertriss was filled with awe at the presence of the great god of magic and fell to his knees before the patron of his craft.

“Behold! I have seen the suffering of your people! Now I have come to give you a gift so that you may end their pain! Behold, I grant you this phial, and within it is my power, granted to you. Use it how you see fit to alleviate the suffering of your people!”

And the archmage gazed back with only stunned silence. Here was the god he worshiped handing him that very god’s raw power. His eyes turned from the god to his window, the archmage gazing out over the walls of his city, surveying the siege engines and the camps of Acretia that even now ensnared his city. Turning back to Milyos, he took the phial in his hands and opened the spigot such that only one drop fell into his hands. Planting his feet firmly on the floor of his tower, Kertriss, Archmage of Irrkengrond, clasped his hands before him and reached out before him. And though he stood in the heights of his tower he took hold of the ground before the city walls and raised it up such that a great wave of earth moved out from the city, crashing over the camps of Acretia and scattering armies of the lady of war before the city. And so the siege of Irrkengrond was broken and the tide of the war turned.

After gathering the strength of his armies and those who were healed by Coraadrin, Tem-sata-tan marched forth from Irrkengrond, and drove back the forces of Acretia. Mighty was the wrath of Acretia, but the armies of Irkengrond pursued Acretia’s horde and drove her back into her wretched city, for no devilry of the lady of war could stop the power of the phial of Milyos. Now trapped by Tem-sata-tan, the Lady of War’s fury reached a fever pitch. Riding forth from her gates, she sought out the king of Irrkengrond but found Devlos, prince of the Astrugar first. They clashed in a mighty battle and Devlos was able to pierce her shoulder where her armor was weak but she slew him in the open field, her sword finding Devlos’s heart. Such was her rage that she hued his corpse many times even though he was dead. Then she turned again to find Tem-sata-tan. Finding him and his guard, her pike and sword flashed as the king and his guard mounted a valiant defense. It seemed as though she would smite all the guard and Tem-sata-tan himself. She was close to overcoming them when her horde that she had led out from the city began to scatter, routed by the might of Irrkengrond. Seeing her fleeing horde and returning to her senses, Acretia left the field of battle so as to not be destroyed herself, for though she desired vengeance, her will to rule and conquer was greater. So was the King of Irrkengrond saved by the strength of his host and the valor of his armies.Tem-sata-tan claimed victory for Irkengrond and their allies and on the 576^th day since Kertriss raised the great wave of earth outside Irrkengrond, the city of Kilkretha was put to the torch. Devlos, ruler of the Astrugar, was buried outside the ruined Kilkreath in a mighty cairn. He and the descendants of his guard watch over the ruined city and what remains of the House of War within. No mortal knew where the Lady of War went after that day when Irrkengrond undid her might and burned her house. But even though the halls of her house were silent, Acretia still stirred in the hearts of mortals the desire for power and conquest. Strife and pain were her companions, and wherever war was present, rumors of a great and horrid lady, clad in black, swirled.