James Clemens - Witch Fire: The Banned and the Banished Book One

Witch FireJames ClemensThe Banned and the Banished Book OneFOREWORD TO WITCH FIREBy Rob Sordun, D.F.S., M. of A.,Director of UniversityStudiesU.D.B.First of all, the author is a liar.Do not proceed deeper into this work without first accepting this fact and holding it firmly in mind as yougrasp this translation in hand. The author will try to confuse your mind, to cloud your reason. Beware ofhis many traps.For five centuries, this document has been outlawed. At one time, the mere perusal of its first pagewarranted execution. And even in this enlightened time, many scholars still believe every copy of theKelvish Scrolls ought to be destroyed. I, too, am of that circle of scholars.So why, you must wonder, am I writing the foreword to this vile first document?Simply, because I am practical. Banning, burning, and outlawing the texts have not eradicated theirexistence.2 Handwritten copies, memorized translations, pages written in secret code, and many othernefarious incarnations of the Scrolls survived the purges. Over the recent decades, it was sadly realizedthat the only practical way to deal with this abomination was by regulating it and thereby limiting itsaccess to only those with prior instruction and study. By doing so, its lies, deceptions, and half-truthscould be debunked.Laws of Oppression, by Prof. Sigl Rauron, University Press (U.D.B.), p. 42. In Arturian times,followers of the banned texts were often hunted down, their eyes burned out with hot coals, and theirintestines gutted for public display. Even worse punishments were sometimes employed. 2Deceit amongthe Scholars, by Jirrob Sordun, New Uni Times, Vol. 4, issue 5, pp. 16-17. In one heretic sect,pages of the Scrolls were tattooed inixxForewordFor this reason, this version of the Scrolls has been released for postgraduate studies only. Yourinstructor has been properly trained and licensed in the safe reading of this first text. Do not scrutinizethe book without this instruction. Do not read beyond your prescribed schedule as outlined in thesyllabus. Do not share this with a friend or family member unless they are attending the sameclass.For more than a decade, this manner of control has kept the rumors and curiosity about the Scrolls to aminimum. There is nothing like dry academia to bleed the thrill from a banned document.This translation of the first Scroll is to our knowledge one of the few that reflects the true original. Thereare scores of bastardized translations in other countries and lands. But in your hand is a direct translation,

written almost three centuries ago, of the original text. Where the actual handwritten scroll disappeared toand who wrote it still remains a scholarly mystery.So here in your hands is the closest approximation to the true abomination you are likely to encounter.Only a select cadre of postgraduate students are allowed to attend this instructed reading. It is both anhonor and a responsibility. After you have completed the reading of this text, you will undergo a vigorousclass on how to conduct yourself when queried about the book.And you, dear student, will face questions from the uninitiated!So beware! Much curiosity still surrounds this document among the poor and uneducated public, and oneof your main goals is to weaken this curiosity. We will teach you methods to calm the curious and turninterest into a yawn.hidden places on a persons body. And annually the group would unite and read the text off each other.Such was the fervor to avoid the banning. The Mystery of the Lost Scrolls, by Errillo Sanjih, VulsantoPress, p. 42. The last recorded mention of the original handwritten copies was back some twocenturies. But even this mention by Lord Jessup of Argonau is questioned by Scroll scholars as simplebragging.ForewordProceed with caution. And remember at all times, in your waking hours and in your dreams The authoris a liar.Assignation o/ResponsibilityThis copy is being assigned to you and is your soleresponsibility. Its loss, alteration, ordestruction willresult in severe penalties (as stated in your localordinances). Anytransmission, copying, or even andreading in the presence ofa nonclassmate isstrictly forbidden. Bysigning below and placingyourthumb-print, you accept all responsibility and release the university from any damage the Scroll maycause youor tfiose around youbyits perusal.Signature___________Date__________YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.WITCH FIREThis is the way the world ended, and like grains of sand cast into the winds at Winters Eyrie, this is theway all other worlds began.Words, written in black ink on parchment, are a fools paradise, and I, as a writer, know this only toowell. Pronunciations change; meanings mutate; nothing survives intact the ravages of blind time.So why am I writing this? Why pursue this folly? This is not the first time I have told her damned story. Ihave written of her many times, in many incarnations. One time, virginal in her honor. Another time, evilwithout soul or conscience. I have portrayed her as a buffoon, a prophet, a clown, a savior, a hero, and avillain. But in reality, she was all these and none. She was simply a woman.And for the first time, I will tell her true story. A truth that may, with luck, finally destroy me. I stillremember her promise, as if only a single heartbeat has passed. Curse or blessing, little man? Do with it

what you want. But when the marching of years weighs too heavy, tell my story Tell my true story andyou will find your end.But can I? So much time has passed.A thousand tongues, mine included, have distorted the events with each telling, twisting them detail bydetail, word by word, each storyteller embellishing his favorite parts. Like starving curs on a meat bone,we tear at its substance, dragging it through the grime, fouling it with saliva and blood, until nothing but aragged remnant of the original survives.As I put ink to paper, my hand shakes. I sit here in this rented room and scrawl each word with a sorewrist. Around me are piled stacks of crumbling parchments and dusty books, bits and pieces of thepuzzle. I collect them to me, like dear old friends, keeping them close at hand and heart, something I canrub with my fingertips and smell with my nose, some tangible evidence of my distant past.As I hold a pen poised, I remember her final words, each a knife that cuts jaggedly. Her sweet face, thesunlight off her shorn red hair, the bruise under her right eye, the bloody lip that her tongue kept touchingas she fought out her final words to me and I remember the sadness in her eyes as I laughed at herfolly. Damn her eyes!But that was later, much later. To understand the end, you must first know the beginning. And tounderstand even the beginning, you must understand the past, the past that had disappeared into mythlong before she was born.Let me show you, if I can find it: a parchment that tells of the creation of the Book itself, the tome thatwould destroy a girl and a world.Ah, here it isPROLOGUE[Text note: The following has been determined to be an excerpt from Lorda RosiThe Order of theRosewritten in the high Alasean tongue almost five centuries before the birth of she who will be knownas the Witch of Winters Eyrie.]MIDNIGHT AT THE VALLEY OF THE MOONDrums beat back the stillness of the winters valley, snow etching the landscape in silver. A hawkscreeched a protest at the interruption of its nighttime nesting.Erril leaned his knuckles on the crumbling sill and craned his neck out the inns third-story window. Thevalley floor was dotted with the fires of the men who still followed the way of the Order. So fewcampfires, he thought. He watched the black shadows bustling around the firelight, arming themselves.They, too, knew the meaning of the drums.The night breeze carried snatches of shouted orders and the scent of oiled armor. Smoke from the firesreached toward the heavens, carrying the prayers of the soldiers down below.And beyond the fires, at the edge of the valley, massed a darkness that ate the stars.The hawk screeched again. Errils lips thinned to a frown. Silence, small hunter, he whispered into themoonless night. By morning you and the scavengers will be feastingyour bellies full. But for now, leaveme in peace.