C. Brittain - Voima

“It was probably a mistake separating them into two,” said the witch quietly, its voice very old. “But you mortals had always been separate, and so we modeled our new world on yours.

“Once you humans stopped living wild in the woods and began to group together in permanent dwellings,” the witch continued, “we thought it would be better for you to be guided by beings more in your own image, beings who lived in their own realm which we made for them so that you would not be terrified by having lords and ladies of voima constantly among you. But now they do not create their successors, as we always did. The Hearthkeepers neither gave birth to their successors nor slid away gracefully when fate ordained the end of their time of dominance. And now they wish to rule again. If our children only replace each other the cycle will lead not to progress but to stagnation, for it will never be resolved…”

“Excuse me,” said Karin slowly, “but I don’t understand you. Who is it who have separated?”

“The Wanderers and the second force,” said Roric when the witch did not answer.

Karin looked at him, her eyes dark shadows. When she spoke he could not tell if she were addressing him or the witch. “Tell me, then. Are the members of the second force women?”

“Of course not,” said Roric.

And, “Of course they are,” said the witch at the same time.

“I fought them,” said Roric, “in the Wanderers’ realm. They weren’t women. They wore horned helmets.”

“They, too, have decided to try something different,” said the witch, again almost wearily. “They have decided to use men’s own weapons against them. They did not ask me, although I could have told them. It will make no difference.”

Roric tried to picture again the warriors who had attacked both him and the band of trolls with him. It had never occurred to him at the time that they might not be men, and he did not like the idea that women had matched swords with him.

“So neither the Wanderers nor the Hearthkeepers will listen to you?” asked Karin sympathetically. “In spite of all your wisdom and experience, even when they’re wrong, they insist on doing things their own way?”

Roric thought with a start that he had heard Karin speak just that way to King Hadros, when the king’s sons-or even he himself-had done something that angered the king.

It appeared to be nearly as effective on the witch as it was on Hadros. “Maybe we should have tried raising up mortals instead,” it said, sounding slightly less weary. “You come and go so quickly it never seemed worthwhile, but maybe you would listen to wisdom.”

Roric said to himself that he had no intention of listening to anyone, king or Wanderer, who wanted to tell him what to do, but he stayed silent, waiting to see what Karin would discover.

“We have heard the stories, of course,” she said, “that before the Wanderers ruled earth and sky there was a reign of women who ruled with all the powers of voima. But do you mean that before them beings like you ruled? How long has this been happening?”

“Long enough for us not only to give way but to change,” said the witch in a low tone. “I may be the only one left who still remembers how it was before the creation of the realms of voima and the separation of those who rule earth and sky into men and women. And I myself am not remembered, living here away from mortals and immortals alike, except of course for the dragon.”

“I want to understand this,” said Karin slowly. Roric did too, and it still made no sense. “Before the Wanderers and the second force appeared, there used to be cycles of creatures of voima more like yourself. But what happened to all of you when fate ended your rule? You didn’t die? You changed instead?”

“We changed as you say, Karin Kardan’s daughter. Even the other creatures of voima in the earth may not remember us anymore, though they remember the upheavals and the change. Many of us are built into the very foundations of the realms of voima, so that that land is made from the sleeping forms of its creators.”

Karin said after a moment’s pause, “So the women of the second force are trying to use armed might to defeat the Wanderers, so they may replace them, they hope, forever this time. And the Wanderers hope to use death, which has never before entered immortal realms, to overcome the women, so that they themselves will not be replaced now or ever.”

“And the Wanderers want mortals because we have access to Hel,” said Roric. “Maybe in that case we should try to help the second force instead.”

The witch chuckled. “Oh, they would be happy to have you, Roric No-man’s son. Both sides are working out their plans in ways that involve mortals. This decision to use death will be the Wanderers’ second effort to ensure that they create their own succession, after their first effort resulted only in hollow men of which they are now trying to rid themselves.”

Roric set his jaw, more determined than ever not to allow the one life he had to be diverted into some game played among the immortals.

“But you see more clearly than any of them do,” said Karin. “What can they do, if neither side wants the other to rule at all, and yet neither side can triumph?”

“If they asked me,” said the witch, “I would tell them. They could try once again uniting into one, as they were meant to do.”

The witch went back then to tugging at the weaving, and although Karin tried a few more questions it either did not hear or did not want to answer. She and Roric retreated to the far side of the room and whispered. He did not know whether the witch could overhear them or not; the lords of voima had seemed to know less than he expected, and even this much older creature did not appear omniscient. But if the witch could see all in its weaving and mirrors, then it did not matter if they whispered or shouted.

“I do not, ” said Karin, low and intense in his ear, “want to get involved in this quarrel among the immortals.”

Roric was relieved to hear this; she had sounded so sympathetic that he had been afraid for a moment that she was going to propose trying to bring the sides back together. Even while they had headed north he had vaguely hoped there might be a way to solve the Wanderers’ problems and win a reward of boundless glory, but this all sounded beyond the capacities of mortals.

“They have goals so much vaster than anything we can understand,” she continued, “that it would be best for us to stay with what we can influence and know.”

Perversely, this echoing of his thoughts immediately made him think that there might be something even in mortal courage and strength that the lords of voima lacked, and that it would be the path of highest honor to fight beside them. But he dismissed this thought. He had no honor left anyway.

“Would you like to stay here until he comes to visit me again?” asked the Witch.

“He” meaning the Wanderer, Roric thought-her son? “How long will that be?” he asked. Whatever he and Karin did, it might be easier if the two kings had enough time to decide that both of them were dead and go home again. He had not come all this way to be meekly taken back in bonds with nothing accomplished.

“It is hard to say in your mortal terms when he will come,” said the witch thoughtfully.

“Then it may be a long while,” said Karin. “I think I have seen him once too often anyway. Is there a way to leave here without going by the dragon again?”

“Oh, yes,” said the witch as though surprised. “I told you I only keep a fire at that end of my cave as a warning beacon. There is a tunnel that comes out at the bottom of the cliffs, quite near the sea. Men used sometimes to come there in boats and climb up to see me, to burn an offering or ask a question of fate. I am not sure they liked my answers as well as they expected!” with a chuckle.