Revenge Never Ends

After a long and exhausting siege, Lord Chauncey has one final move to put Rohan Satokyrise in checkmate.

“What is your plan here?” Geoffrey demanded of the man slouching in his saddle beside him. 

The two knights sat atop their horses, overlooking a wide lush valley that had forests along each side of the valley’s hills. A river ran through the centre line of the valley, weaving back and forth like a lazy snake. The trees were mature, full of green and life, despite the cold winds that blew through the valley, and a sun that frequently hid behind the clouds.

The man gave Geoffrey serious side-eye at this question. Lord Chauncey was a man in his late 40s, with prematurely grey hair and hardened features that spoke of long years in unpleasant weather, doing unpleasant things. He was a large man, built like a well fed and active farmer. Though his clothes spoke of money and war. He didn’t look like the kind of man who would be slouching, but today, he was. 

He pursed his lips as he considered how to answer the question. He didn’t like the sanctimonious prick, “Sir” Geoffrey. A young upstart who rose quickly through the ranks because of his effectiveness. Certainly not because of his ‘play ball’ attitude. Because he usually didn’t. At least not with Lord Chauncey’s directions.

In particular, he really didn’t like the lack of “My Lord” absent from the question. He would consider having Geoffrey flogged for that, but alas, Geoffrey had demonstrated real efficacy in battling the Sidhe deviants. 

There would come a day that Geoffrey would pay for his insolence. 

Lord Chauncey smiled at the thought.

“The plan, my dear *Sir* Geoffrey, is that we’re going to deliver a message to this Sidhe scum once and for all. That they are *not* welcome in the plains or the cities of man. That they should return to their forests and wait there for us to come to them and burn them out of their holes,” Lord Chauncey said with imperious conviction. He stood a little straighter at the thought of the completion of his long awaited plan of revenge against the wily Rohan (Lord) Satokyrise. The Sidhe Lord who had stolen Palinterra from Rundell three years ago, and was now finally forced to return it to it’s rightful lord. 

Lord Chauncey’s control, that is. Lord Skanrè, the Lord responsible for Palinterra, had died by Satokyrise’s hands in the original siege. So… it certainly wasn’t his city anymore. May as well be Chauncey’s, the Lord had thought to himself.

Sir Geoffrey’s gaze left the retreating column of the remainders of the Sidhe army to turn on Lord Chauncey. The much younger knight-ranger, in his early 30s with full dark hair and a moustache, was also hardened from fourteen years of long conflict with the Sidhe, and an intimidating sight for most men - but not Chauncey. He knew Geoffrey’s type - bound by honour and code, and the belief that what they were doing was *right* and *honourable.* 

Chauncey knew better - this was about history, control and resources. The time of the Sidhe had come to an end, and it was time for the humans to take their rightful place as masters of these lands. And for that to come about, it was important that the Sidhe were taught once and for all where their place in this world was - in the ground.

“Gather your rangers Geoffrey. We wouldn’t want any of your men caught out in the forest where they’re vulnerable. Send word to them to watch for wolves or eagles, or any surprise Sidhe regiments,” Chauncey said, flicking ashes from the pipe he had allowed to go out while he watched the retreating Sidhe army. It was almost time for the plan to be revealed. 

“What are you planning, Chauncey? Rohan Satokyrise is leaving, you won back the city. Let this go,” Geoffrey said, a tone of real alarm in his voice. Lord Chauncey felt real pleasure at the thought of Geoffrey’s discomfort. 

Just wait, you sanctimonious turd, just… you… wait… Lord Chauncey thought to himself, and found himself grinning at the thought of what was to come. 

“Do your duty Knight-Ranger. Go, see to your men. You wouldn’t want to leave them to the mercy of the Sidhe,” he replied in a gruff manner that only Lords born to power can command. Ignoring the angry looking “farmer-knight,” as he’d come to think of Geoffrey, he turned to his left, and the patiently waiting man in illustrious white robes, covered in black and gold runes. 

Arch-Mage Khantere met his gaze and raised his eyebrow expectantly. He was an older man with long white hair, well into his 70s, but still in remarkable physical condition for his age. Chauncey wondered how the old wizard did it, and how much he’d demand in payment for the secrets of their longevity. 

“I think it’s time, Khantere, don’t you?” He asked the powerful wizard, the young knight-ranger storming off on his horse, fulfilling his duty, while hating every moment of it.

“Indeed I think it is. The ritual is ready, and their last missive says they have not been discovered. If we wait much longer, the risk they will be interrupted will increase, and then things could go… poorly. They have passed Aistriúnghlor. I would say it is time,” Arch-Mage Khantere said confidently. 

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Aistriúnghlor - The “Point of no return” when casting a spell or ritual, when too much magical power has been gathered to stop the spell without consequence.

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Chauncey had won a real victory convincing the Arch-Mage to agree to this plan. A message for the ages, they had agreed. Both had lost many family members to the Sidhe in this war, and felt that peace was a poor repayment for the lives of their lost loved ones. 

“Then show these freaks the power of the Celestial Wizards and the wrath of the just,” Lord Chauncey said.

Without a reply, Khantere wove one hand lazily in the air, and three bright white runes popped into existence, spun around each other three times and then collapsed into each other with a pop. The old wizard closed his eyes for a few moments and looked meditative.

The leaves in the trees overhead susurrated as the wind picked up, rushing past their lookout and into the valley below. The forest and hills around them became more colourful, more intense and vibrant. Magic was spinning around them, changing things. Chauncey hated magic, but loved the power it brought him. Chauncey loved power more than anything. Theirs was a mixed relationship.

“It’s done,” said Khantere, opening his eyes. He looked hard and determined, his gaze turning to the Sidhe army in the valley below.

Lord Chauncey raised his hand, the forest around them growing quiet as hundreds of horse mounted knights around them focused their attention on their lord. He made a fist with his hand, and he could feel the excitement and anxiety of his men building around him.

Lines of yellow and golden light appeared in the sky above the valley. They parted the sky like torn paper, revealing pools of darkness on the other side of these tears in reality. The faintest shimmering lights could be seen in these pools of darkness - distant stars of far away places. 

“Burn, Satokyrise. Burn,” Lord Chauncey said, his eyes reflecting the fire of the comets of heaven as they rained down upon the retreating Sidhe. His eyes burned with delight at the helplessness of his enemies as they died by the thousands. 

He brought his fist down, and the knights charged.

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Editorial Note and Well Wishes;

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and I hope Krampus forgets where you live.

May your holidays be full of joy and connection, and any complicated relational drama that unfolds in this season of overwhelm finds quick repair in the new year.

I invite you to call or text someone you care about and haven’t spoken to in a while, to remind them that you care about them. Many don’t have the privilege of nearby family or loved ones, and this season can be especially difficult and lonely for them.

Thank you to everyone who has decided to join me on this storytelling journey. Your attention and time are precious, and I appreciate you choosing to spend it with me.

My thanks to my two old friends who pledged an annual subscription this month, before I’d even turned on paid subscriptions. I am floored by your trust and endorsement, and will do my best to write stories worthy of your support.

So I guess this is my announcement I’ve turned on paid subscriptions. If you like these stories, and want to help me so I can dedicate more of my time to the writing and cultivating of this world, please sign up for an annual or monthly subscription.

I can’t promise you’ll get anything other than my undying gratitude in the short term, but I will be releasing my novel as a serialized story in 2024 to my paid subscribers only.

😉

If you are curious what I’m going to use the money for - it’ll be to finance editorial help, equipment and assistance with setting up a podcast (for these tales), and eventually hire a digital illustrator so I can ditch AI art (which I love but is only 80% accurate at best).

And probably food. Food is nice.

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On Sacred Sites; The Majorville Medicine Wheel

On Dec 21st, I travelled to the Majorville Medicine wheel in south eastern Alberta - spending the day at a 4,500 year old stone medicine wheel that served the same purpose for indigenous people, as Stonehenge did for the people of England. Myself and two friends watched the sunrise and sunset, and took copious quantities of photos.

It is one of the oldest and largest solar clocks of its kind, using shaped and colour rocks, set in alignment with the cairn at the centre to various solar positions. These stones were meticulously laid out over many many years to mark significant solar events (like the Equinoxes, Solstices and the Day out of Time) for each year, showing the sunrise and sunset points on the horizon.

Many rocks on the site still have their purpose to be revealed, and could mark much longer time horizon events of great astrological significance.

The Cairn itself stands out as a stone peak, visible from far away throughout the rolling hills that surround it. Offerings have been made here over many years as people have come here to process their grief over lost family members and loved ones.

The above photo was taken at the “Second Sunrise” moment, or when the sun had just crested the hill the cairn was built atop, illuminating the back side of the hill.

Here is a photo of the sun at it’s zenith, unfortunately not in alignment with the cairn, because my buddy Simon was hogging the centre line taking time-lapse photos. (shakes fist)

And this was taken at sunset, with the cairn behind me.

Whatever your beliefs about God, gods or the sun - there is one truth that is unavoidable.

If there was no sun, there would be no us.

So if you’ve been indoors too long today looking at a screen, you should probably get out to see the sun for a bit.

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With that, I take my leave.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and have a fantastic end of the year.

Robin George