The Guards of Galdenwyck [1-1]
Before there were games for thrones and before hobbitses fled from orceses and koboldseses, there were the Guards of Galdenwyck. This long-lost, yet cherished treasure of fantasy literature, written by the austere and hermetic Carioc and Terry Elder, will be presented to the public for free of charge, gratis, even, in a serialized format over the next few moons or so. It is with great pleasure that I bring it to you in unedited form, freed from commercials and commercialization.
The Guards of Galdenwyck
by Carioc and Terry Elder
As when it is meet, and when it is also right, the fourteen moons of Galdenwyck aligned themselves in perfect harmony. This astronomical wonder did not go unnoticed by Chairman Taga, ruler supreme of the Galdenwyck Ffjords. His golden beard and silvery hair belied his age; he was but 346 Criton years old.
The alignment marked an event that only wizards and mad prophets could foresee. It was the dawning of the fourth return of the Guards of Galdenwyck, come to reclaim their throne.
Many years ago, almost before time itself, when the world of Galdenwyck was in its infancy, the great and wise wizard, Avaximander, formed the Guards of Galdenwyck from the same elements that made up the planet. They were fourteen in number, one for each of the great moons, from Clio, the great red moon of healing, to Morimuto, the silvery blue moon of war, quick in its orbit and fearsome in its glow.
Before Avaximander departed the mortal plane, he left these 14 Guards to watch over Galdenwyck, to protect it from threats both of itself and from beyond the stars. But Avaximander was lax in his resolve to maintain a coherent bond between the Guards, the moons, and the elements. Because he chose mortal beings as the embodiments of the Guards, their representations in the moons would also be mortal, and subject to the change of time. Only the permanence of life and death could have formed a better union.
As it was, the denizens of Galdenwyck had to forgive Avaximander for being too lofty, too righteous in his endeavors to bring peace and prosperity to the war-torn Ffjords. The alignment of the 14 physical guards of Galdenwyck portended the most horrific and devastating perpetual motion that any sovereign nation could endure; a total and utterly annihilating chaotic civil war.
While Chairman Taga tried on his new robe in his throne room, the lowly Drow Elf, Gauth Phuiksan, was practicing his Thieves’ Cant with his mentor, Kadik Andan in the Orcish Ghetto.
Kadik Andan, a lowly half-orc of uncertain lineage, while scorned by many as another example of the secret love between human and orc, was esteemed by any being in the known world who strove to become a Master Thief. His skills in the Thieves’ Cant were legendary and he spoke most alignment tongues fluently. Only the beautiful language of the Lawful Good with its 54 declensions had escaped him thus far.
“Phuiksan!” screamed Kadik. His guttural orcish howl sent shivers down the spine of the little Drow Elf who sat rigidly on a wooden bench holding the Fourth Cantish Scroll in his lap.
“You cannot have an electrum modifying adjective in a sentence pertaining to rods or staves!”
“I am sorry, Master. This language is so difficult. Did you ever have trouble learning a tongue?”
This question caused a bomb to explode in the pit of Kadik’s grotesquely rotund orcish belly. It was only 15 years ago that Kadik had been caught attempting to enter the city of Aerion of the Lawful and Good, because he stumbled over a particularly tricky consonant cluster. The five years he spent in Lord Carrollan’s dungeon took 20 years off his already short orcish life.
Maybe the stern task-master approach was not best for Phuiksan’s education, he decided.
“Phuiksan, everyone has troubles learning a new tongue, for it represents a whole new way of envisioning the ideas in the stars. Why, did you know that we have over 2,000 words for ‘moon’ in Galdenwyck, yet the centaurs of Supleende have only 16? Such disparities bring hardships to the student. But once a new tongue is learned, it is learned always. The error comes in thinking you have learned the language, when you actually have not.
“Many Morimuto’s ago, I embarked on a quest tasked of me by a bold young fighter named Xizh to purloin Lord Carrollan’s Silvern Scepter of Basilisk Slaying. Once Xizh had the scepter, he would be able to cleanse the Grypton Hills of their basilisk infestations. As you well know, Carrollan is Lord of Aerion, a damnable city that only accepts into its folds those who are lawful and good.
“The Thieves’ Guild in Aerion helped me as much as they could by providing me an important piece of information: there was one Eagle Guard of Carrollan who could not detect alignments, and if spoken to in the proper cant, would be convinced that you were worthy of entering the city.
“I awaited for his shift at the southern gate of Aerion, where the walls of the city are highest, and most decorated, since the northern side is protected by a sedentary volcano. I must admit, I was nervous and excited to enter Aerion, a place of deep wonder and curiosity to me. I had the tunnels beneath the city memorized from the maps that my understudy, Galbrak, had pilfered from the library at Pern. I had to take a deep breath and focus on my quest, else I would forget the maps, and be lost forever in that dark maze.
“Little did I know that I would never avail myself of those maps, which are ingrained in my mind to this day, for the Eagle Guard asked me the one question that has the most difficult answer to enunciate in the whole cant of lawful good. ‘Why’re thee dost do?’ He asked.
“I was struck dumbfounded. I spake too quickly, and mistook the double-voiced dental for a labial-pharyngeal stop. ‘Hangck prom din, sis prt momm dee!’ was the best I could manage. Of course, you know now that the proper response is ‘Hatt prom din, sis prt momm dee!’ I was immediately arrested by the guard and thrown into Lord Carrollan’s dungeon for five dreary years. It seemed like 20. Fortunately for us, our years are only 15 days long.
“But the point of my sidebar is that I never learned it right the first time. It was a difficult lesson, but it was learned, and it is always with me, much like the maps of the tunnels of Aerion.”
Gauth Phuiksan nodded, trying to understand the gravity of his Master’s words but something in his eyes gave him away.
Kadik sensed Gauth’s uncertainty. “What I am trying to say, my young elf, is that words are the best tool a thief has. You covet that set of Thieves’ Tools I have promised you upon completion of your training. What you do not see is that I am giving you the tools now. The lockpicks and trapspringers are just a trophy, mere gaudy adornments for your fragile ego.”
Kadik strode across the room, turning his back on Gauth, and let his student ponder the words he just heard. After what Kadik thought was a suitably dramatic pause, he turned to his pupil. “Now, Gauth, let’s resume our lesson.”
