The Sorcerer's Conspectus:
A comprehensive view of Andre Norton's Witch World
by Four Sorcerers ~ Elwher, Metaldragon, Indagare & Lotsawatts
Books of Witch World
Flight of Vengeance
2nd book in the [Witch World: The Turning Series]
Two Original Stories Edited by Andre Norton
[Coulson's Index] See Exile & Falcon Hope
See Also: [Martinez ~ Glossary] [Martinez ~ Races] [Schlobin ~ Survey]
[Updated: 09/16/2019]
Edition Used for Analysis:
(1994) Published by TOR, PB, 0-812-50706-1, 978-0-812-50706-5, $4.99, 383pg ~ cover by Dennis A. Nolan, Maps by John M. Ford
Contents:
The Chronicler by Andre Norton (Read it below)
Exile by Mary H. Schaub
Falcon Hope by P. M. Griffin
Synopsis:
The Witch World is Grand Master Andre Norton's bestselling fantasy series. In STORMS OF VICTORY, she began the most ambitious undertaking of her long and storied career, bringing to life the turbulent and pivotal events of the Witch World’s greatest crisis. FLIGHT OF VENGEANCE is the book that Witch World fans have long awaited. Here, in two full-length novels, are the awesome power and terrible consequences of THE TURNING, told by the people whose lives were utterly changed by this cataclysmic event.
Exile is the story of two outcasts thrust together by a monumental feat of magic, worked b the combined force of all the witches of Escarp to move mountains, The witches stopped the invasion by Pagar of Karsten, but their effort cost the witches dearly, killing many and striking powerless man others. A great upheaval uprooted families, destroyed nations, and wreaked havoc on the face of the world, unleashing powers thou ht long dead and gone. Exile is, most of all, the tale of Nolar, a witch who couldn't find her power until all others lost theirs. Magically summoned to rescue another, she discovered an enemy who, in his mind, would become a friend.
Falcon Hope is the story of the Dalesfolk of Sea Keep and the falconers they hire to defend themselves. In crisis, the falcon band find themselves fighting with, instead of against, other Witch Worlders to defend one small part of their world against an otherworldly enemy.
Flight of Vengeance - The Chronicler
(Read it below)
Timeline Points:
- p9. The Turning.1
- p10. Simon & Jaelithe closed the Kolder gate.2
- p11. Duratan in Lormt at The Turning.
- p13. Reference to the Stone of Konnard.3
Footnotes:
1. See: Three Against the Witch World
2. See: Web of the Witch World
3. See: Exile
ONCE I was Duratan of the Borderers—now what shall I call myself? I am in part a Chronicler of the deeds of others, I am one of such as Ouen and Wessel who help with the preserving of the framework of Lormt so that those who come to delve there for knowledge have lodging, food, that which will keep life in their bodies while they labor among the records of the past they love. I am also a seeker. Bit by bit I gain a little here, a fraction there, striving to make clear to the questions within me answers of what I have to do in a world which was overturned by Power and in which so many of us have been set adrift.
When Estcarp stood in direct threat from Pagar of Karsten, and all who were clear-thoughted could foresee (without any recourse to the uses of Power) that we must be indeed overrun, it was the Witches who themselves interposed all that they were or could be between the coming of chaos and their land. Binding together in one embattled body and mind they brought all their famed strength to bear upon the earth itself, forced nature to bow to their united wills.
Those mountains, through which Pagar's forces moved to crush us, were shaken, put down, raised up. The land split, was gashed, wounded, scarred. Forests disappeared, rivers were rent from their age-old beds, there was a madness in the world. For this there was a heavy price. Of the Council in Es City, there were no survivors. Others were as husks, burnt out by the force they had summoned. The Witch Rule died with the majority of those who had held it. Though still along the borders there were enemies such as Alizon where Witch Rule was considered an abomination.
The Kolders, who had come upon us through one of the gates, bursting outward as might the vile flow from the lancing of a festering wound, began the last travail of the world as we knew it. But Champions arose. The Witches gave those their full backing. Simon Tregarth, an outlander from another gate world, came. To him joined the Witch Jaelithe, also Koris of Gorm (that ill-named place the Kolders had first befouled), and Loyse of Verlaine; others also whose deeds the songsmiths have wrought into many ballads. It was Simon and Jaelithe who closed the Kolder gate. Yet war continued, for the evil the Kolders had sown was far from harvested.
In the Dales of High Hallack there was fierce fighting, for the Kolders had encouraged those of Alizon, aiding them in an invasion of that land with strange weapons, that a path might be cut into storied Arvon beyond where the Old Ones were rumored to have concealed treasures of power. When the Kolders fell, Alizon's failure followed and her force was hunted through the Dales to the sea and died there because there was no escape. For the Sulcars, ever friendly to Estcarp, had swept away their fleet.
Yet Alizon was not yet defeated in the minds of those sword lords who ruled there. They licked their wounds, ever looking south. For, though they hated the Power, they also cherished secrets which were of the Dark.
Karsten arose out of the Kolder chaos under Pagar, but what happened there after the Witches put an end to the invasion? Or was it a beginning?
For, just at the turning, the Tregarths again played a part. There were three of them, the children of Simon and his Witch wife, Jaelithe, born at a single birthing which was a thing unknown before: Kyllan, the warrior; Kemoc, the warlock; and Kaththea the Witch. They broke the age old block laid upon our minds and went eastward, over mountains, into Escore, from which our race had fled a millennium before.
However, their coming into Escore had troubled the ancient balance held between the Light and the Dark. Once more war and fearsome things, born of the filth of evil, broke forth. However, there were those of the Old Race who arose, took their households, and kin-lieges, to cross the eastern mountains and use their swords there, to bring once more forces of Light to meet Dark. I was in Lormt and not at the forefront of any battle when the turning came upon us. Kemoc was my shield comrade and he had dwelt in that storehouse of knowledge for a space before he had ridden to free his sister from Witch hold. I had visited him there. Surely no geas was laid upon me, still the desire to return to that place held me after I was sore hurt in a rock fall and my fighting days so ended.
Though Kemoc was already gone, I stayed, sometimes torn two ways—yearning for the Border life I had always known, and again for this seeking among the many old and rotting accounts of an earlier world and time. I would have sworn while I was a warrior that I had none of the Talent in me. It was always believed that that went only in the female line among us. Yet I discovered that I did have strange gifts.
Since I was young and active, and not too hindered by my limp, I had much to do with Ouen in Lormt after the Turning. Of the four towers of that age-old fortress of knowledge, one and part of another fell as a result of the great earth movement, taking with them the connecting wall.
However, though there were injuries among us, there were no deaths. But what was the most surprising was that the structural collapse revealed sealed chambers and crypts in which had been stored chests and great jars filled with all manner of scrolls and books.
Our scholars were frantic and it took those of us who were more level-headed and less wrapped up in research to make sure that none of them came to harm in their assault on places where there was treacherous rubble. Thus I was greatly busied in those first days and hardly aware of what chanced, except for what was directly under my eyes.
We sheltered a trickle of refugees. Among them was a young woman who had ridden to us in search of healing for her aunt. I did not see the older woman, but I was told that she had suffered a head injury which put her into a sleepwalking state. There was with the two of them a Borderer whose troop had been scattered during the catastrophe and he had taken service to see them safely to us. Those who employed him spent much time with Morfew, one of the scholars always more helpful than others. Shortly the three of them made a sudden departure, as I was told by Wessel who supplied them. Morfew said that the maid Nolar had discovered among some of the newly salvaged material reference to an ancient place of healing. I was a little disturbed, for surely the many changes in the landscape might have obliterated any landmarks they would travel by. Almost I was moved to ride after them but there was so much to be done and I fully expected them to return shortly in disappointment.
When I had first visited Kemoc at Lormt he had given me a bag of colored crystals and I had discovered that these answered to some talent of my own. When I threw them they would fall into patterns. Dwelling upon those, thoughts and warnings sometimes became clear. So it became my daily custom upon arising each morning to throw a handful and try to read what might lie before me for the day.
There were no thoughts of the three who had gone on the morning days later when I made my throw. But what lay there was indeed a warning.
That red which is near black (signifying the worst of evil) was centered. Fronting it were three other sparks, one of green, which was small but clear, and two others which blazed higher. One of those was blue, the other a clear white, and from each came a beam to lick at that smear of dark. As if I stood in sight of what passed I knew I witnessed a mighty battle. My hand clenched upon the edge of the table. The hound Rawit, who always witnessed my throw growled, and from the back of my chair the female falcon Galerider screamed as she might when about to war. Three lights against the dark—in my mind those three were the ones who had gone forth from Lormt. Mightily I strove to reach them by thought-send. Instead there was a rush of the crystals and not by my will. I feared—unnaturally. Perhaps something had been loosed again, even as the Tregarths had unwittingly loosed the Dark in Escore. Yet I thought this was no warning from Escore, but what happened was not far from Lormt itself.
That day and for four following, I rode the boundaries of our fields and watched my crystals, throwing them twice, thrice a day. I visited Morfew. He showed me a copy the maid Nolar had made from fragments of an ancient scroll which spoke of the Stone of Konnard. That this was part of a dire ensorcelment I was sure, and I was angry with them for what they might have loosed upon us. Arming myself I gathered supplies, though what good I might do I had no idea. Yet there was danger and I was still fighting man enough to be drawn to it. For the last time I threw the crystals. And this time I was successful. That which blazed with evil was gone. There remained only the white, and those pulsed evenly like the beating of a heart.
I heard the barking of Rawit and sudden sharp cry of Galerider. So I looked out beyond that space where the gate to Lormt had once hung and saw riding, with weary drooping of body in saddle, the two who came again. Though at that moment I did not truly realize why there was such a surge of gladness in me, I thought it was only because some threat was past.
Urging my mount forward I went to meet Nolar and Derren. And indeed they had for me a mighty venture to add to the Chronicles.
The Sorcerer’s recommend that you read next: On Wings of Magic
Formatted and Edited by Jay Watts ~ April, 2019
Copyright ~ Elwher, Metaldragon, Indagare & Lotsawatts
Online Rights - Andre-Norton-Books.com
Duplication of this collection (in whole or in part) for profit of any kind NOT permitted.
