Quasar Magic: Paladins of Ama - Ragnor Saga, #1

Prologue

Since eons, there had been a balance between Ama, the forward- pressing powers of the creation, and the destructive powers of the nothingness, called Ximon, in the galaxy Andromeda. But then, thousand-odd standard years ago, the gray legions, Ximon’s servants, succeeded in destroying the paladins of Ama, who also were called guardians, and they seized the power over the entire galaxy. They subjugated the civilized worlds, and Ximon’s henchmen even managed it to win some of them over to the side of Ximon the Terrible.

The majority of the peoples however withstood this temptation. The price they had to pay for their fortitude was high though: the gray legions systematically destroyed the entire high technology on these planets and they killed the intelligence. Consequently, most of the once so powerful star realms of Andromeda fell quickly into ruin and the cosmic transport between the worlds, that hadn’t bowed, collapsed rapidly. Many planets rushed back to a time, which had prevailed many centuries ago, to cultural stages, which they had believed of that they had already overcome them. This collapse of the complex, inter-stellar connections however condemned the gray legions of Ximon to an increasingly inefficiently campaign of destruction. They were bogged down in their actions on their search for the continuously declining number of highly developed worlds that still adhered to Ama, in order to destroy their technical potentials and to push them back into primitiveness as well.

Therefore, the peoples of Andromeda persisted in agony under the heel of Ximon’s creatures, and they concealed their technical achievements, as far as they hadn’t already lost them, from the merciless henchmen of the darkness. Despite of these throwbacks, the peoples both on the developed and on most of the primitive worlds firmly believed in Ama, which embodied hope and creation. A narration was going about a prophecy that Ama’s guardians would return one day and put a stop to the horde of Ximon.

Against this background, our story begins on the planet Makar. It is situated in a sector, which is poor in stars, at the edge of Andromeda. The planet solitarily orbits a big red sun, which is accompanied by two moons. The civilization of Makar has fallen back to an era comparable to the High Middle Ages, and the remembrance of the past is restricted to nebulous legends, which lost their encompassing, historic connections a long time ago.

Setting

Chapter 1

Tomorrow would be his eagerly awaited birthday! He would finally reach the age of fourteen, and with this, he would rank among the adults.

Yes, to Ragnor, the youngest inhabitant of Calfor’s gorge, it was an important event, because on the day after tomorrow, he would be allowed to go hunting with Rurig and Menno in the great Northern forest for the very first time. He had waited for that so long! Warm excitement arose in him, and it made him shudder, as he thought of his approaching birthday. Eventually he would be a grown-up, so that Tana couldn’t prohibit him any longer to go hunting with the men, and the old Lars would share his joy, when his wish, he had longed for so desperately, would finally come true. During all those past years, he had taught Ragnor everything he needed to know in order to become a useful member of the hunting community.

He already mastered most of the work, and according to his opinion, even pretty well, although some tasks, the dressing of deer, for example, wasn’t one of his favorite activities. He was completely lost in thought, as he recalled the period of his training in his mind’s eye. Yes, the old Lars had always emphasized that a good hunter must have all-encompassing knowledge and the willingness to execute every work carefully. To hit a blue deer at a distance of one hundred steps, won’t be of any use for us, if you can’t get hold of the meat and handle it, the old man had always admonished him, when he had disemboweled his quarry with visible disgust once again. Yes, shooting with a bow and arrows was his favorite passion, and as a hunting weapon, he liked this weapon more than the heavy lance, which mainly was used for the wild gray sows. He actually could not only hit a deer, but also a rabbit at a distance of one hundred steps.

This thought filled him with pride, as he pensively observed the low afternoon sun diagonally across the narrow valley. The celestial body   slowly moved to the Dog’s Head, an enormous mountain on the other side of the valley. Suddenly he remembered what Lars had told him, as he had shot at rabbits with blind fascination in order to get practice in the early days. As a result, he had shot way more animals than Tana could use in her kitchen. With a serious facial expression, he had admonished him that the people in the mountains merely shot the animals in the woods, because they needed something to eat; but never just for fun.

His homeland, Calfor’s gorge, was only a small valley at the edge of the great Northern forest. This valley was only a small grain of sand in the never-ending expanse of Makar, measured against the miracles of their home planet; the old man had taught him. There were uncountable things, which waited to be discovered by the boy, because he had never left the valley yet. However, this would change now, because on the day after tomorrow, it would be the day. For the very first time, he would traverse the pass together with the hunters in order to go hunting in the great forest.

All of a sudden, Ragnor had to sneeze which immediately interrupted his flight of fancy and made him come back to reality. The orange-red sun of Makar, which already was coming closer to the end of its diurnal orbit, had tickled in his nose, while he was lingering over his dreams on his favorite spot below the tall red oak tree. The boy jumped to his feet and he looked down at the valley, because the sun was already low. He instantly realized that he should have been home long ago. He quickly picked up the fur pouch with the herbs he had collected for Tana, his quiver and his arrows, and then he hurriedly headed for home.

His way led him through several tall trees steeply downhill. On the Ronseat, a small ledge, which stuck out from the rock and towered above the edge of the valley, he shortly stopped and he looked down at the valley. From this spot, the hut, the stable and the barn could easily be recognized. The buildings were at a distance of a few steps from the swift-flowing mountain stream that had deeply carved out the bedrock of the valley. Shortly before the ascent to the pass, the stream vanished into a dark crack in the escarpment. Right now, Ragnor could even exactly recognize the long, multicolored skirt of the old Tana. She was just in the train of fetching a bucket of water from a fountain, which was sitting on the forecourt in front of the hut. She was certainly already annoyed that he hadn’t returned in time in order to help her with the preparations for dinner. He gave a curt wink, and he narrowed his eyes to slits against the low sun. Then he could recognize Lars, too. The old man was standing with Menno at the stable, where the two of them had repaired the projecting roof today; they had replaced an old beam by a new one. It had been necessary, after all, because the original, old stringer had already been completely rotten.

Now it is high time that I return to the valley, otherwise, Tana will pull me by my ears, flashed through his mind. The thought of Tana’s tirades, which were often long-winded and uttered in a high-pitched voice, made his steps quicken considerably. After he had left the stony mountain trail, he finally started to run down the bleak mountain meadow, where the goats grazed during summer, until he arrived at the stream.

After a brief, powerful run, he reached the bridge Menno had built of pale spruce wood over the stream years ago. Ragnor had already been spotted by Lars, who called him with an unmistakably scolding undertone in his voice, Hello Ragnor, you are truly late! Tana has already asked for you several times. Hurry up!  Go inside quickly and deliver the herbs. While he spoke these words, he and Menno grinned from ear to ear, which wasn’t nice in Ragnor’s opinion. He contorted his face and he gave a helpless smile, because he assumed that Tana would scold him once again any moment.

When he finally arrived at the hut, he briefly paused for breath on the veranda, because he was a bit breathless with running after his long sprint. He took several deep breaths. He resigned, as he slightly lifted his shoulders. Then he straightened himself. He had no other option. Eventually, with firm steps, he walked along the wooden, of solid planks constructed veranda and he headed for the half-opened oak entrance door that had already grown completely dark with age.

He entered the spacious hut, which consisted of a living area with a big fireplace and four sleeping rooms. Immediately after he had closed the heavy door, Tana spotted him at once. Ragnor, you confirmed dreamer, have you forgotten to come back home once again? she shouted to him.

He was surprised and he listened attentively, because her voice wasn’t as harsh as usual when he was delayed. It sounded casual and rather a bit amused. He cautiously looked up at her, after he had tensed up his shoulders and lowered his gaze a moment ago, because he had fully expected a dressing-down. Ragnor looked in the face that was so familiar to him. It was streaked with thousand winkles, and her two brown eyes didn’t look furious today. He was so stunned that he could not utter a single word. What was going on, after all? The nice, little excuse he had made up was literally blown away, because he had definitely expected the usual long-winded roasting.

Well, Ragnor, not one of these so carefully concocted excuses today? It surprises me, she said, and a smile was playing on her lips, as she noticed the puzzled mien of the boy. Well then, obviously it isn’t necessary, after all. Tomorrow is your birthday, and as from tomorrow, you will undertake new duties. Proudly smiling, she finished her speech with the statement that she had finally taught him everything a hunter had to be able to do in a household, and overall, he had done his job pretty well. However…, and she admonishingly lifted her index finger, …I hope that you will still help me after your return. I am no spring chicken anymore.

But of course, Tana, the confused boy uttered with difficulty, while he nervously kneaded the fur pouch with the herbs he had collected at her request.

Tana came closer to him, and as a motherly gesticulation, she put her right hand on his shoulder. With her other hand, she casually took the fur pouch with the herbs out of his hands. She proudly studied the boy in front of her, and her eyes reflected a faint trace of melancholy. At that moment, she thought how tall he had grown. At the age of fourteen, he almost was a man. Each stranger would assume that he was seventeen at least. Ragnor’s body was tall, but still muscular, and although he hadn’t fully grown yet, he was taller than Rurig by a handbreadth. That was even more amazing, because Rurig was taller than average among the inhabitants of the northern continent.

You are certainly surprised that I don’t scold you – aren’t you? she remarked with a smirk, and she lifted her hand, which was flecked with age marks, and she arranged her white hair that was a bit tousled.

When Ragnor had been a little boy, he had loved to play with it. Tana’s long hair had always given her small face, which still slightly revealed her former beauty, a majestically air. It radiated a certain, natural authority that the small boy had accepted from the very beginning.

You know, she continued explaining, sometimes it was necessary to call you to order, when you forgot your duties, or at times, when you thought of nothing but playing and dreaming. But as I said before, all things considered, you did your job pretty well, and now go outside and fetch the other ones for dinner, before everything will be overcooked completely. With these words, she focused her attention on her work again. She returned to the fireplace, where their evening meal was already roasting in a big copper saucepan. It radiated a pleasant smell.

Ragnor turned around in order to head for the veranda. He was still a bit confused. In the meantime, Lars and Menno had finished their work, and the old man was sitting in his old rocking chair of dark basketwork as always. What crawled up your back and died? he asked amusedly, as he noticed the confusion of the boy.

Ragnor was still slightly puzzled, and he answered, She didn’t scold me this time. It was just the contrary; she was very kind to me. Please, Lars, can you explain this to me?

Of course I can. Come over here, the old man, said.

Ragnor came closer, and with strong affection, he looked in the blue eyes and at the familiar face with the snow-white beard, which he had become so fond of in the course of the past years. Lars had treated him like a father his child, although he wasn’t his father. A grateful wave of devotion rushed through Ragnor, as his eyes were focused on Lars. The man had always listened to him, and taught him everything a man needed to know. Yes, the old man had truly been his master.

Ragnor’s origin was obscure. During a violent thunderstorm, Lars and Rurig had found the boy in a grotto up at the Dog Head as a newborn fourteen years ago. Nobody knew where he had come from or who his parents were. Somehow, it hadn’t been all too important to him yet, because the people of Calfor’s gorge had taken him in and raised him. Therefore, they had become his family.

Ragnor sat down at the feet of the old Lars, as he had already done it a thousand times, and he looked up at him expectantly.

You must know, my boy, the old man began, Tana loves you as much as I do. But you certainly know that…

Of course, Ragnor replied. Nevertheless I have wondered from time to time, why she has always scolded me so often. You have done that on much rare occasions.

Yes, that’s true, and that exactly is the reason, Lars grinned. I let you get away with too much, and Tana felt compelled to be stricter to you than me to a certain extent, so that you would learn how to get along with your life. Moreover she wanted to teach you that everything you begin must be finished as well.

To tell the truth, I have never looked at it that way, Ragnor admitted, and he began to see her reproaches with different eyes. Do you think I shall tell her yet again that I also love her very much? he asked reluctantly. I’m afraid, I haven’t told her that all too often in recent times.

That would be a good idea indeed, my boy. She will certainly be very glad to hear that, the old man agreed with him, and he gave him a friendly smile.

Ragnor swiftly got up and he went back into the living area, where Tana was busy with her pots above the fire as most times, while the evening meal inside them was still roasting.

Yum, that smells good, Ragnor commented in order to draw her attention to him, as he entered the hut again.

Tana turned around. With a smile, she looked at him inquiringly. Well, Tana, I …I… At that moment, Ragnor lost his thread, and he was too excited in order to frame a reasonable sentence.

What’s the matter with you, my boy? she asked, as she was surprised at the unaccustomed speechlessness of her fosterling.

Ragnor regained his composure, and he answered with a slightly loaded tongue, I only wanted to tell you that I am very grateful for everything you have done for me. But most of all, I wanted to tell you that I love you very much.

Tana was frozen in place and tongue-tied for a while. She had expected anything at that moment, but not such a declaration. With a quick movement of her hand, she wiped the tears away that had brought her emotions to her eyes. She stepped up to the boy and she firmly put her arms around him. Subsequently she said in a shaky voice, You have put it very nicely, and I thank you for that. With these words, she looked squarely into his eyes for a moment, and then her practical nature won through again. She sent the boy out of the hut, so that he could finally fetch Menno and Lars for dinner.

Light-heartedly, the boy dashed out of the house. However, Lars wasn’t sitting on his rocking chair on the veranda anymore, but he stood next to the door and looked at him with a strangely serious expression in his eyes. With an almost ceremonious movement, he placed his hand on Ragnor’s shoulder and he said, That was well done, my boy. With your words in mind, the separation will be less difficult for Tana, when you go hunting with Rurig and Menno on the day after tomorrow. But now run to the stable over there and fetch Menno, so that we can eat.

As Ragnor was soft-footedly running to the stable, Lars looked at the back of the tall young man with his unmanageable, brown hair for a moment.

I will miss him, when he goes hunting with Menno and Rurig the day after tomorrow. Then he won’t have much time anymore in order to discuss things with me and to bombard me with questions with his curious, blue eyes. I guess I will have to wait for the winter break, until he will be around me again. I have taught him to write and to read, and everything else a hunter needs to know. However, tomorrow morning, a new chapter in his life will begin. The old man was slightly melancholic, as he turned around and went into the hut.

In the meantime, Ragnor had rushed to the stable and entered its interior through a dark, rotten door of wood. After his eyes had been accustomed to the semi-darkness, he could see that Menno was distributing green fodder to the mountain donkeys and the three-horn goats with skillful hands at the feeding troughs in the back.

Livestock farming is very important to us in these bleak mountains, he summarized in his thoughts the things Lars had taught him, while he affectionately peeked at the six mountain goats and the strong dozen of three-horn goats. They were eagerly devouring the fresh green fodder he had cut at the hillside this morning.

The agile three-horn goats provided them with milk all year round, and even sometimes with meat, if the hunters happened to be unsuccessful in the hard winters up here, or if they were simply fed up with eating the smoked supplies of the hunted animals in fall. The mountain donkeys with their gray-brown fur were the companions of the hunters and their burden bearer, in case it was necessary to bring in food for the animals or firewood. They carried the loads, when the men went hunting, and when they went to the market in Mors twice a year. There, they bartered a part of their bag for everything else of importance that they needed for their daily life, which they couldn’t produce themselves. Ragnor observed the muscular, thickset Menno who sometimes wore his brown hair tied up at the back of his neck. Menno was very skillful in the handling of any kind of tools. Everything, which could be built or repaired with one’s own hands, was his field of knowledge. He loved this kind of work. As soon as he had spotted Ragnor, Menno leaned the three-tined, wooden feed fork against the wall of the stable.

Subsequently he looked up and smiled. Is it time for dinner? he asked hopefully.

Yes, of course, Ragnor laughed, because he knew that Menno valuated food above all things.

Then let’s go. I am already hungry as a wolf, Menno mumbled. In joyful anticipation of the food, he licked his lips with relish.

Half an hour later, the four of them were gathered at the round dark oak table whose surface was scarred with many scratches and notches by its frequent use. Once again, Tana had prepared her delicious stew. Apart from the rabbit meat and the various vegetables, which grew wild in the mountain forest, it had been refined with the flavored fresh herbs Ragnor had brought home slightly delayed. As always, all of them, especially Menno, lavishly praised the food of course. After Ragnor had appeased his voracious appetite and emptied his first plate, he expectantly looked in Lars’ direction and asked, At what time will Rurig finally be back?

Probably in the course of this very evening, or sometime during the night at the latest, the old man answered with a smirk on his lips, because he knew that Ragnor had always admired this blond-haired warrior and taken him as an example. In any case, he will be here tomorrow morning. He wouldn’t want to miss your birthday, he quickly added, as he noticed the boy’s disappointment. Ragnor obviously feared that Rurig could probably arrive to his `most important´ birthday too late.

After they had finished eating, all of them took a seat around the open fireplace, and Menno requested Lars to tell them the story of the big Ork War. The people, who lived in Calfor’s gorge, loved to spend their evenings in front of the fireplace and to bridge their time with stories. Before his time in Calfor’s gorge, Lars had worked as a teacher and jurist in Caerum, and he was known as a good storyteller.

The old man leisurely sat down in the old, stained armchair. It was his favorite seating place. Subsequently he raised the mug with the dark beer Tana had freshly brewed on the day before, he took a big gulp, and then he began to narrate in his gentle, powerful voice, As all of you know, the great Northern forest, where we live, is the border land between the Ork area and the countships and baronies of Caer. All together, they represent the northern continent of Makar, which is bounded by the continental sea on the south and by the northern sea on the north. Fifty-odd years ago, the Kingdom of Caer and the Ork tribes conducted a terrible war. I want to tell you this story today.

He cleared his throat and he continued, The Orks are no humans like we, but they have a lot in common with human beings. On average, they are a bit taller and more muscular than humans are. In contrary to their slightly unfamiliar, sharp facial features, which startle some humans when they encounter them for the very first time, they have delicate and graceful human hands. They allow them to do very skillful work. Moreover, their clear, blue eyes mirror their multifaceted emotional life in the same manner as we can express our feelings. They are no stupid barbarians or inferior to us, as some ignorant people believe, they merely are a bit different than we are.  With these words, Lars admonishingly lifted his index finger, and he grimly looked at the assembled group. The other ones smiled. They knew all too well that the otherwise calm Lars flew into a fury at the slightest sign of intolerance. After this moral suasion, he took his mug and he sipped at his drink one more time, but then he continued, For the Orks, their families are their greatest good. Together with two to four children, they live in the society of their whole tribe. They mainly live on the meat of their large herds of wasteland deer. Along with them, they wander across the large scrub on their search for feed. They always walk on foot, because they don’t use any riding animals. However, they actually don’t need them, since they can run twice as fast as we can, and their endurance is remarkable. As nomads, they live in organized clans behind the large forest in the northern scrub. Each of their tent villages is populated by one extended family of two hundred members at maximum. In turn, one clan consists of about one hundred extended families, and the whole Ork nation is composed of twenty-four clans. Each Ork clan is named after a totem animal - wolf or lynx, for example, and they use to paint their shields with the according totem symbol. In times of peace, the clans live quite independently of one another, and they have feuds all the time. He grimly added, In this regard, they exactly behave as foolishly as the humans.

"They only pose a threat to other ones, if a clan of the Orks is attacked by an outsider, or if an ambitious clan leader manages to unite the Orks and have appointed him as Great Khan. That exactly happened fifty-five years ago, when the Khan of the Wolf Clan, Khor al Nor, united the Orks. In his delusion of grandeur, he wanted to conquer more and more areas. At first, he started to terrorize the Northern forest, and after five years of running battles, he attacked Caer with more than twenty thousand Orks. Caer was a powerful kingdom of almost six million inhabitants in those days, and not such a fragmented structure which is currently ruled by individual, feuding feudal principalities. Nevertheless, the Orks overrun the north of Caer, and their invasion ended in a battle only then, when they had reached the large lowlands of Caerum. King Ralph and his army of thirty thousand men challenged them to fight there. Initially, the Orks gained the upper hand. Their army defeated the poorly armed infantry of the peasant militia. The majority of the army of the Caer consisted of these farmers, and more than ten thousands of them were killed during that battle, whereas the Orks didn’t have to bewail any noteworthy losses. Luckily, the knights of Caer, the actual crack troop of the army, managed to cut their way through the