Chapter One: Ruins
I don't know by what whim I chose to travel to the ruins of Climanti. Perhaps I
thought the experience might furnish some ideas of interest for an article or
story; perhaps not. As a fond traveller and writer, I was always ready for an
interesting journey; and since I was at this time just beginning the writing
career that would someday dazzle the Basin, I was especially enthusiastic for a
story. My genius had yet to burst upon the cultural scenes of Lusternia, and my
ambitions were high; none had yet heard of Glombu Wynderweed, and I sought to
change that. (Here I must pause. I pray you, reader, do not pain me by pointing
out that you, too, still have yet to hear of such a literary genius as Glombu
Wynderweed. Allow an old merian to keep his illusions). I ramble. Suffice it to
say, that whatever whim prompted this sudden decision is long since lost to my
memory.
Having made this resolve, however, I found myself in a great hurry to depart;
and so I left, barely prepared and with such a vague idea of where the ruins
lay that I almost lost my way many a time, and I am sure I regularly risked an
abrupt and ignoble end to the adventure of my life as I passed beyond the Teeth
and into the largely uncharted regions beyond.
I wonder if you, my readers, have heard the same stories of Climanti that I
had at that time. I am sure you must have heard of its unusual epithet; "the
jewelled city" they called it, and as I learned, with good reason. Doubtless
you have also heard of Juliana the Even-handed, one of the greatest Vernal Gods
ever to grace the lands. Finally, of course, there have always been stories of
the Gem Globe, and I cannot believe that word of this edifice can have faded,
even after all this time. My imagination supplied me with many a fancy on that
journey, as I retold these stories to myself many times over; and each telling
raised my expectations of Climanti ever higher. In such situations the truth is
usually a disappointment, for in general reality can never equal the wild
flights of the mortal imaginations. But in this case, even my writer's fancy
could not do justice to the jewelled city.
I cannot call this journey the most scenic ramble I have ever taken; the lands
beyond the Basin were taint-blasted, and all was in ruins. There were signs of
renewing life in some places, but I was then convinced of the many generations
that would be required to pass before these lands were once again habitable;
and perhaps indeed something more than time will someday be necessary.
Eventually I found my way to the spreading, mountain-edged meadows that once
hosted Climanti; now no more than spreading, mountain-edged wastelands with the
rubble that was once the jewelled city littering the centre. In fact Climanti,
at first glance, was barely discernible from every other set of ruins I had
passed through or near on my way to this spot; most buildings were entirely
gone, some left only as partial shells; others blasted to their foundations;
towers fallen, spires in broken shards, windows long since gone. Everything
about me was greyed by the passage of time and the onslaught of weather,
streaked with dirt and rain, blackened, blasted. In short, a dismal scene
greeted me in Climanti.
Perhaps here I did begin to feel those stirrings of disappointment, and that
conviction that my imaginings of the city were to be far more to my
satisfaction that the site itself. But I resisted the urge to turn from the
scene of such sorry devastation as lay before me. Instead, I wandered, winding
my way through the broken streets and the still, silent squares, allowing
myself to picture it in its glory days. Here, perhaps, were the foundations of
the city's foremost inn; a busy, thriving place alive with people; there once
stood the villa of one of the city's wealthier inhabitants, with its beautiful
gardens; here stood a ballroom, here a stable, a cottage, a pool. In truth, my
skills of archaeology are limited; I am sure I dreamed rather than learned the
layout of Climanti during those ramblings.
Eventually I worked my way to the very centre of the city, and here I had no
doubts about my findings; I stood within the City Square. In fact it was ovular
in shape, a most unusual arrangement (for there is of course good reason why we
call these areas "city squares. Why is the mortal mind so fond of straight
lines?"). Around it, I assumed, lay the remains of palace, city hall and the
usual municipal buildings; but my attention was caught by what appeared to be
the vestiges of a fantastic mosaic that covered the floor. True, it was broken
and ruined; a great many tiles were missing or spread about the ground, and
those that remained were covered with the dirt of long ages. But enough
remained to capture my imagination. I set to work, using my cloak, my clothes,
sticks, anything that I could find, and for days I worked at clearing the filth
that obscured this remainder of Climanti's creations. As I worked, areas of the
mosaic became gradually visible, and the beauty that I unfolded added yet
further zeal to my endeavours; indeed, I became almost obsessed for a time, for
there beneath my feet, choked in dirt, lay the most exquisite pictures I had
ever seen. The craftsmanship was so perfect, the pictures so intricate, so
impossibly realistic, that it broke my heart to see them so broken and
incomplete. The colours dazzled me; I uncovered tiles as prismatic in hue as
the most beautiful jewels, and eventually it dawned on me that this mosaic was
not made from stone, or any traditional material; I held tiles of pure gemstone
in my hands.
I worked quietly for days, unable to give up; and on one baking afternoon I
made a discovery that particularly excited me. I was working on an especially
stubborn area of the flooring, of which I had uncovered enough to suspect that
here lay a depiction of the Gem Globe itself. So intent on my task was I, that
I slipped into some kind of trance as I worked, unaware of anything around me,
barely aware of myself; all I could see was that incomplete picture and each
tile gradually revealed by my hands. Abruptly my attention was distracted; I
was sure, in that disjointed way one gets in such a state, that I had heard
chatter, and moreover, in a recognisable tongue. I had barely had time to
comprehend this when - and I can explain it in no better way - Climanti roared
into life around me. The city square spread itself out before me, with a
brilliance of colour beyond anything I could imagine; buildings blinked into
existence, edging the mosaic in a perfectly arranged display of architecture;
and most spectacularly of all, in the centre of all this glory rose the Gem
Globe itself.

Chapter Two: The Jewelled City

My readers will forgive me the clumsiness of my pen as I attempt to describe
Climanti as it stood in life; for no words can touch the jewelled city. I begin
with the buildings: tall enough to dazzle the gods they seemed, formed of bright
white stone that gleamed in the sun; expansive and flighty, with spires of such
grace as would put the most elegant swan to shame. Towers and turrets, spires
and balconies, domes and magnificent arched windows rose all around me, and
each frame and sill, the tops of the domes and the heights of the spires all
sparkled with those beautiful jewel colours. Ruby red, sapphire blue, amethyst
purple and every colour imaginable glittered from those stupendous
constructions. Flocks of doves and pigeons flew among the soaring spires of
Climanti, and their gentle, distinctive calls drifted distantly down from the
heights. The bases of these buildings, arranged in their perfect oval around
this centre of the city, were a collage of reflected colour from the mosaic
that they framed; and this mosaic I could not take my eyes from for some time.
Here lay my beautiful pictures, that I had slaved and scrubbed and laboured
over; here they lay, restored to perfect brilliance. Imagine, reader, the most
exquisite jewellery you have ever seen, or the most beautiful coloured glass
mosaic; picture this with colours yet richer, brighter, glittering in the full
light of a mid day sun; spreading almost as far as your eye can reach; and
depicting every one of your favourite stories in impossible detail. If you can
picture all of this, reader, you may begin to comprehend somewhat of my
feelings as I stood gazing upon this mosaic.
I tear myself away from this dazzling display to attempt the description of
the Gem Globe itself, a fitting centrepiece for the jewelled city; for this too
now stood before me. It consisted of a shallow silver basin of no inconsiderable
size, within which drifted rainbow-hued liquid; and I could only guess this to
be made up of jewels and gems in liquid form. It was permanently in motion, the
threads of glittering amethyst and sapphire, moonstone and jade, emerald,
diamond, everything, drifting in a gentle current apparently without source.
Above this basin floated an enormous globe, its impossible size suspended
motionless many feet in the air. It appeared from a distance to be completely
clear, more perfectly clear than any diamond; but, on moving closer, I was able
to discern the barest tendrils of colour, swirling about the globe with the same
gentle current as prevailed within the basin beneath. From time to time a flash
of colour marked the surface, flared, and vanished as if absorbed; and I then
received an impression of additional power being added to the fierce energy
that radiated from this edifice.
I had been absorbing these sights for several long minutes before I remembered
the Merian chatter I had heard; and indeed, I now found my attention hailed by a
light tap of my shoulder and a polite "Good afternoon" spoken in my native
tongue. Behind me stood a merian gentleman a little younger than myself; he had
the air of somebody whose life is spent in a great haste, with hair only
slightly combed and clothes rumpled and a little mismatched. I experienced a
moment of concern when I remembered the state of my own appearance; how much
like a vagabond I must look, with my travel-worn attire, crumpled and streaked
with dirt from the unusual use I had been making of it. My new companion's
expression was reassuringly friendly, however, and his manners impeccable as he
said,
"Wundul Metheram, and very pleased to meet you I am. New here, are you?" His
smile widened into a grin, and I reflected for a moment on what a picture I
must make; evidently a traveller, standing in Climanti's central square with
wide open maw and a thunderstruck expression. Wundul raised a questioning brow.
"Oh," said I hurriedly, "Glombu Wynderweed," and we shook hands in a decidedly
civilised manner. I was both reassured and further confused to note that Wundul
seemed as solid as myself; no mere vision was he. Wundul nodded pleasantly.
"Have you seen the hatcheries yet?" he asked, pointing; and I observed the top
of a very tall tower just visible behind the palace ahead. "It's nothing to the
Gem Globe, but perhaps you might wish to see the famous Ilyria."
"Ilyria?" Here was one story I had never heard, and to my embarrassment,
Wundul seemed to find this quite astonishing.
"You HAVE travelled a long way," said he as we moved northward, winding our
way through a multitude of Climanti citizens. Being unable to explain my
presence in Climanti even to myself, I found it wiser not to answer this; and
instead occupied myself for the moment with observing the unusual variety of
racial heritage within the city. I saw a fair number of merian citizens making
their home in Climanti - unusual, some might say, for a merian to make his or
her home on land, but let them see the jewelled city, I tell you, and I am sure
even fair Celest can offer no competition. Intermixed with these kinsmen of mine
were dwarves, elfen, furrikin, trill, even lucidian and orclach; and all
co-existing with seeming good will. I still wonder now where Lusternia lost the
secret of such peaceful cohabitation.
Regardless, by this time we had arrived at the base of the aforementioned
tower; and I was interested to note the complete lack of the brilliant jewelled
colour adorning most other buildings in Climanti. Instead, this tower possessed
so many windows that at first glance it appeared to be wholly built from glass
- just clear glass, no colour, no picture, nothing. I observed this to my
companion.
"The Ilyria like the light," he said. "Which is why we're so busy at this time
of year - they hibernate during the winter. Actually, though, the hatchery tower
isn't made of glass - it's gem, cleared like the Gem Globe. Nobody can begin to
guess what it cost the city, but Juliana insisted. She would have the best for
the Ilyria."
"Juliana!" said I excitedly. "Juliana the Even-handed, you mean?"
Wundul looked at me oddly. "I've never heard her called by that name," he said.
"She is generally known as the Mediator." He paused. "I'm interested to know
where you've come from, to have heard of Juliana but never of the Ilyria." I
smiled vaguely, hoping I looked interestingly mysterious rather than panicked.
Fortunately Wundul chose not to press me, and instead led me inside the
hatchery tower, as warm and bright as a conservatory. The interior was quite
crowded with people; and as soon as we had entered, a cheer rose up and all
attention seemed fixed upon the doorway. Coming through it was a lucidian
woman, and behind her flew what had to be one of the fabled Ilyria.
It appeared to be a bird, though of no species I had ever seen before. It
possessed a lengthened, sleek, elegant body, long delicate legs and an
enormously long, graceful tail; and atop its head it proudly wore a tall plume.
It warbled gently as it moved, emitting a constant stream of melodic sounds as
it fluttered into the tower. But the most striking of its features was its
colouring; its feathers were predominantly coloured the same rich blue as the
sapphire, and they glittered like the stone itself.
"A sapphirine Ilyria," Wundul murmured to me as it passed, led away up a wide
flight of stairs to one of the upper floors. "The first we've found all year."
He beamed, and beckoned to me, opening one of many elegant silver gates that
lined the walls. Beyond this gate was a beautiful little conservatory, warm and
well-lit, and draped with foliage; and at the far end, a purple Ilyria lay
enthroned upon an enormous nest.
" An amethystian Ilyria," said Wundul. "She's got two eggs at the moment, and
we're actually hatching these! Isn't she beautiful?"
"Hatching?" I asked. "Is that unusual in… a hatchery?"
Wundul shook his head, and held up one finger. He led me out and through
another gate. "A rubin Ilyria", he said, gesturing at the sparkling deep red
bird that inhabited this conservatory. This Ilyria stood near one of the
enormous windows, apparently basking in the warm sun; its nest stood empty. I
followed Wundul as he approached the nest, and removed three beautiful ruby
eggs. "Ilyria inhabit the mountains north of Climanti - the Pinnatars", he
said. "That will be where Iktari found the sapphirine you saw earlier. However,
we don't find many; for instance, we've only found one diamondir in the last
five years. So, we hatch some of our eggs in order to increase the numbers;
otherwise, all eggs go to the Gem Globe."
Suddenly I understood where all the glory of the jewelled city came from. I
suppose I had assumed that the stones were mined, as was the convention in my
own age; but here was a far more fascinating truth. I followed Wundul as he
moved rapidly through the tower, collecting eggs from each conservatory. I saw
Ilyria called emeraldun, jaden, garneth, and even diamondir, as well as more of
the vibrant sapphirine and amethystian creatures. As we worked, Wundul told me
what became my favourite of Climanti's legends.
"The Ilyria, as you might guess, are not natural birds", he began. "Many ages
ago, there existed an Elder God, Vundar, of the artistic circle; and He loved
the Goddess Lyria. He painted the sunsets for Her; He set the rainbows in the
skies; He created blooms of unsurpassed beauty, crystal clear waters, prismatic
butterflies and glorious landscapes; but nothing could please Her; for she had
another suitor: the thinker Yunn. He had given Her a single diamond, of such
perfect clarity that it put the stars to shame; and She had no eyes for any of
Vundar's gifts. But in seeing this, Vundar was inspired.
He took that diamond from her, and he drew it out, and shaped it; adding form
and plumage; He gave it wings to grace the skies, and a song to melt the
coldest heart in Lusternia. He called the bird Ilyria. In time, he added to
this creation; crafting birds no less beautiful from amethysts, garnets,
emeralds and more; and with each gift Lyria's heart grew warmer towards Vundar.
He also gave them a life that mimicked that of other birds, allowing them to
grow, to hunt, to nest; and in time, as the Pinnatar Peaks came to echo with
the songs of the growing flock of Ilyria, the heart of the Goddess was won over
forever."
Later I took the chance to scribe this story in my journal, and often read it
thereafter, recalling the nature of those wholly unusual eggs as I held them in
my hands; the sense of power that beat beneath the faintly glowing exterior,
the warmth of them; and the roar of power in the Gem Globe as each egg was
submerged into that silver basin.

Chapter Three: Juliana, the Even-handed

I do not expect the reader to be interested in all the smaller, menial
adventures of my next few months in Climanti; the means by which I acquired the
house that was to be mine for many years afterwards, with its few simple rooms
and garden; the days I spent with Wundul, searching the Pinnatars for Ilyria,
tending to those already housed in the hatchery tower, and collecting those
eggs to add to the power of the nexus. Such remembrances are only of interest
to myself. Instead, I will hurry forwards in time to one year later, and the
beginnings of the biggest event in Climanti since the creation of the Gem
Globe: and this event relates, of course, to the aforementioned Juliana.
I had discovered my friend Wundul to hold no inconsiderable degree of
influence and respect in the jewelled city, and I could not wonder at it, for
he spent untold hours every day working to build the power of the edifice. By
this time, he had risen to become a trusted advisor and friend to the city's
leader, the fair-minded Juliana; and so it was that, just as I had celebrated
the close of my first year in Climanti, and long after I had ceased to wonder
at the strange fortune that had brought me there, I heard the news that was to
cause great excitement in the city.
"Here's something you'll like to hear, Glombu," Wundul murmured to me as we
stood at the Gem Globe, adding today's crop of eggs to the swirling liquid.
"You will have heard of D'varsha, yes? Of course you will - a hero of our
race, Gorob, the first mortal to ascend to the status of Vernal God. Well then
- behold our own nexus here. It has taken us fifty years to build it up into
its current state; and now, my friend, it is Climanti's turn to raise a Vernal
to join D'varsha. The ceremony is set for two weeks' time, at which time our
own dear Juliana will take on the mantle of Vernal." Wundul's eyes sparked with
excitement as he spoke, and no wonder; my mind reeled for a moment at the
thought of fifty years of the sort of effort that Wundul consistently put
forth. Two days later this announcement was officially made to the city; and
then passed near two full weeks of celebration in Climanti. My journal is still
filled with some of the many songs and poems composed to every virtue that
Juliana had, and probably some that she didn't; I couldn't help feeling a
certain sense of injustice to Wundul in all of this, whose ceaseless effort had
made it all possible; but as always, he was wiser than myself.
"It is inconsequential, Glombu," he said, after I had delicately imparted my
complaint. "And with the Soulless at large somewhere in Lusternia, then Juliana
will need every support the city can give her if she is to protect us from
them."
This thought disturbed me. I had heard, as had every citizen of Climanti, the
stories of the Soulless and the destruction they had caused in the far corners
of the world; but we had yet seen none of it, and it was far too easy to become
wrapped up in our glorious city and our daily activities, and forget that darker
things existed outside of our walls. Henceforth I looked at Juliana with new
eyes; her imminent ascent to Vernal Godhood rendered her as much an object of
compassion and concern, as one of glory and admiration, and I of all people
knew how many trials she would have to bear. But, as we all did in those days,
I regularly shook off such gloomy thoughts, and immersed myself once more in
the wonders of the city, and of the age.
Juliana's ascension ceremony took place at noon on a glorious summer's day;
the time chosen to properly illuminate the beauty of the city. It was a
spectacular thing to witness. Climanti's Knights arranged themselves around the
Oval, dressed in their ceremonial armour and distinctive green capes; and the
Gem Magi opened the ceremony with a spectacular display, creating a dazzling
flock of Ilyria above the edifice. I stood in the gathered crowd with most of
the citizens of Climanti, watching the displays and festivities as singers,
dancers and one very enthusiastic poet followed the Magi. Eventually, the
preliminary celebrations were over. A path opened up in the crowd opposite me
to make way for an extremely elderly mugwump, stooped in his blue robes, and
leaning heavily on a sturdy cane. He was so wizened and crooked that he
appeared barely taller than the average child. I recognised him; one of the
city's oldest and most respected citizens, this was Basil Grundleby, famous for
having lead the power ministry since the nexus was built, more than fifty years
of service.
Grundleby stopped in the centre of the Oval, and raised his wrinkled head,
audibly clearing his dry throat. Then his voice rang out over the crowd,
evidently enhanced beyond its normal quiet, dusty measures.
"People of Climanti," he began, "This day has been a long, long time in
coming. Even I begin to feel the many years that the good citizens of this city
have worked to build the strength of our edifice, with the ultimate goal of
raising a Vernal God of our own - one who will join Gorob D'varsha, the
teacher, in his famous efforts in the service of mortals everywhere, and who
will protect our beloved home from the Soulless. As your power minister since
the inception of this goal, I would thank you all personally for the unceasing
devotion you have all shown in this endeavour; and I would particularly praise
and honour my primary aide and one of our wisest advisors, Wundul Metheram,
without whose tireless dedication I feel sure we would have been another ten
years at least in reaching this point." He nodded his ancient head in Wundul's
direction, who, I was amused to see, appeared most pleased but rather
uncomfortable as the Oval erupted in applause.
After a few minutes, Basil raised one hand for silence. His form may have been
bowed and creased with age, but his eyes were as sharp and bright as ever, and
now they twinkled with a mixture of emotions.
"Words fail me to express how proud I am to be here, introducing the one who
will shortly be imbued with the power of our edifice, and take the Vernal form.
People of Climanti, our fair leader, Juliana." This time the applause was
tumultuous, and the noise was deafening as Juliana moved forward to stand at
Basil's side. The reader will forgive me for indulging in some praise of
Juliana here; it must be done, for she was a woman of such beauty as regularly
set this poor old merian's heart to aching. A merian was she, tall, sleek, with
light, silvery hair and eyes. The former was now decorated with tiny gems which
sparkled in the light as she picked her way, daintily and elegantly, into the
centre of the crowd, dressed in a rippling gown of stunning blue silk. Her
beautiful face was absolutely radiant, her eyes shining with delight and pride
as she stood, tall and graceful, near the Gem Globe. She was obliged to stand
for some minutes before the gathered Climantians calmed enough to cease their
thunderous expression of approval. Then Juliana's clear, authoritative voice
rang out over the assembly, marked by all the composure for which she was well
known.
"Beloved citymates, you do me great, great honour with your support, and I add
my word to Basil's in thanking each one of you for every effort that has been
made for this glorious half-century of our shared history. Together we have
built Climanti into the world-famed jewelled city, a centre of beauty, culture
and talent that is unequalled in Lusternia. Five decades ago we took our place
in history as one of the first cities to raise an edifice of power, taught by
Gorob D'varsha himself; and now we will raise our repute, our strength and our
glory ever higher by becoming the second city in the world to create a Vernal
God. I am overcome with pride that you have chosen me to receive this honour
and grave duty, and I now make this promise to you all." The assembly was now
absolutely silent as each citizen listened solemnly to Juliana's speech, and I
became aware, in a distracted sense, that I was holding my breath.
"As your Vernal, I know that I am to be your protector, your champion, your
guide and beacon in all the long years to come. When I was elected your leader,
I pledged to serve you with the whole of my being, sparing no effort to ensure
the future prosperity, comfort and glory of our city. I now renew this pledge
tenfold, and I swear to you all that I will not fail you."
As the Oval once more expressed its appreciation of the fair Juliana, that
lady's hand was gently taken by Basil, as he lead her to the edge of the
edifice's silver basin. Then Juliana daintily stepped into the swirling liquid
contained therein, and stood, motionless, as her sleek merian form became
filled with the deep power of the nexus. Its colours patterned her skin as she
began to glow with all the myriad hues, glittering with a radiance beyond that
of any mere jewel; her pearly blue merian skin was replaced with the palest
alabaster hue, and her ordinary mortal garments disappeared, replaced by an
ethereal gown of raw power marked with the shimmering hues of the Gem Globe.
Her already pale eyes shone as she stepped out of the basin, now bearing the
clear, crystal appearance of the diamondir; and she seemed yet more graceful
than ever in her form and movements. Always a radiant beauty, she was now
awe-inspiring. I was too affected by this transformation to speak or move;
indeed I hardly dared to breathe as the glittering aura around her gently
ebbed, leaving behind the faint glitter of tiny motes of light that surrounded
her in a soft nimbus. The historical event that all of Climanti had waited
fifty years to see had finally occurred, and here stood our Goddess. As one,
the multitude of Climantians bowed low to the Vernal whose every strength and
virtue would be sorely tested in years to come, as She battled to spare us from
the Soulless.

Chapter Four: Zenos

Life returned to a certain quietude after Juliana's ascension. The fever to
strengthen the Gem Globe lessened to some degree, though not as much as I had
expected; for the need to replace the huge reserves of power that had been used
in raising Juliana to godhood was very much felt. If there was any regret felt
in the aftermath of that magnificent event, it was that Juliana's new, heavier
duties as our Goddess kept her away from Climanti for longer and longer periods
of time. She worked closely with D'varsha, serving in her former capacity as
mediator in the teacher's attempts to bring mortality together against the
Soulless. It was during these early years that her reputation as "the
Even-handed" began to spread.
None such preparations were premature, as we were blessed with only a decade
of peace before the stories of the Soulless abroad began to take on an alarming
nearness and regularity. Too often we heard of Crazen, Muud and, most
terrifyingly, Zenos ravaging towns and cities that lay a little too close to
Climanti for these events to be safely ignored. In due course, Climanti's near
neighbours began to experience grave problems, calling on the jewelled city for
help more and more often, and Climanti's Knights and Magi also began to spend
more time away from home.
At last, the dreaded series of events that would end with the death of Climanti
began to occur. The city of Yllanir, a trill settlement in the Pinnatar
mountains that ringed Climanti, was set upon by Zenos, and utterly destroyed.
Its terrifyingly few survivors fled to our city, clamouring for shelter and
bringing dreadful, horrifying tales of the unstoppable power of the Soulless.
Events began to move more quickly following this occurrence. Juliana returned
immediately, bringing with her a furrikin, Torodae, who had recently been
raised to Vernalhood by the forest-dwellers of Flynnwood. Together, He and
Juliana spent many months scouting the surrounding country for signs of the
Soulless, rescuing those left stranded or injured in the wake of their
destruction, and attempting to plan the means by which Climanti was to be
protected.
At home, similar plans were being made by our mortal advisors, a group of
which my friend Wundul remained a respected part. The tales borne by the
survivors of Yllanir had shaken our government as deeply as it had the general
population, and they were keenly aware of the severity of the threat to
Climanti. Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say, and here was
the proof; for, despite the weakened state of the Gem Globe since the raising
of Juliana, which we had gone only some way towards rectifying, it was decided
that more strength at arms at a godly level was needed if Climanti was to
survive. And so, after a short period of discussion and, I daresay, argument,
my dear friend Wundul was selected by the Gem Council to take his place by
Juliana's side as our second Vernal God.
It is difficult to say, now, whether this decision was almost the saving of
Climanti, or whether it destroyed us. Wundul's ascension ceremony was, as may
be imagined, far more subdued than Juliana's, and he was raised to Vernal
status with little ado. A palpable tension reigned over the gathered crowd, all
too aware of the desperate reasons that lead to the existence of this new
Vernal, far too soon. It is not that those of Climanti failed to support the
decision; Wundul was popular and enormously respected, and his citymates had
every faith in him. But nobody could deny the sadly weakened state that the Gem
Globe fell into afterwards. Its ropes of winding colour thinned to a trickle;
its aura of power all but failed; it hardly even glittered, standing dull and
drained in the centre of the Oval. It seemed a woeful omen for the city's
future.
"My doubts about this grow ever graver, Glombu," Wundul said to me sometime
after his ascension. He too had taken on some of the appearance of the edifice,
as had Juliana, glittering with that gentle nimbus and glowing with colour. Even
his voice had changed, becoming richer somehow. "True, we have, theoretically,
twice the godly strength; but our nexus is drained of any power to help or
support us, and if the Gem Globe, the heart of Climanti, were to be destroyed I
would fully expect that the city would quickly follow. And, Glombu, I am weak; I
have had no time, as Juliana has had, to grow accustomed to my new station and
powers, or to build my strength. I deeply doubt that I can be of much use to
Climanti at present; certainly of less use than a full and powerful nexus." He
sighed. His godly brow was always furrowed with thought and doubt these days,
and the delightful sense of humour that had brightened so many of my days in
that age rarely showed itself now. I comforted him as best I could, of course,
and worried about him in private.
For my own part, I deeply felt my own inadequacy; if he, a god, could do so
little to save the jewelled city, of what use could I possibly be? And my prior
knowledge of the doomed future of Climanti weighed heavily on my mind. I had
never told anybody of where I had truly come from, not even Wundul; and I could
not bring myself to do so now, accompanied as this tale must be by my knowledge
of the fate of the city. Somehow, in the bright days of hope now gone by, I had
been able to ignore the memories I had of the broken, blasted city in
dirt-streaked ruins; it seemed too far away, too long ago. Now I could not help
but recall it every minute of every day. It was impossible for me to hide my
despair. I performed my accustomed duties by rote, my heart gone out of it
altogether; and I am sure my depression and anxiety was clearly visible to all
I met with. Not that I stood out - this feeling of doom was clearly written on
every face I encountered, and the atmosphere was thick with sorrow and fear.
Eventually, of course, the inevitable finally occurred. The Soulless Zenos was
seen not far from the city, and approaching with a rapidity which made his
intention horribly clear: Climanti was his next target. Terror swept through
the city, and it took all of the combined eloquence of Juliana and Wundul to
prevent the streets from erupting with the terrified stampede of its citizens.
It was here, I believe, that Juliana first formed the plan that would
eventually succeed in imprisoning Zenos, though I knew that it could not
succeed now. My heart failed me as I saw our own two Vernals and the visiting
Torodae preparing for a desperate attempt to save the city, that only I knew
was doomed to failure.
As for me, I could not, even now, share the knowledge that would destroy the
precious seed of hope in Vernals and mortals alike; the despair that I would
create would render the city's destruction ever more inevitable. I suppose I
still bore a faint hope myself, that Climanti might cheat history and
circumvent its fate by somehow surviving. As it was, I was left, choking on my
miserable, secret knowledge, watching as Climanti's death drew nearer.
Hitherto I have casually referred to Zenos' approach as having been observed;
"Zenos was seen", I said, but when He finally appeared, I began to appreciate
the difficulties involved with predicting or observing His passage at all. We
of the jewelled city had known of His coming for days, but at last He hit our
city unawares; for His form was almost invisible. Whether He possessed a more
solid form, and only took this one during His most violent activities, I do not
know; but as He fell upon Climanti, all we knew was that an almost unseen wind
of horrifyingly violent force swept through the city, and consumed everything
that it passed. It appeared as though the very essence was devoured by this
being; buildings, animals, mortals, everything left as a hollow shell of its
former self, stripped of all colour, vitality and life. Climanti was
systematically stripped of its essence until large areas of the city stood in
much the state in which I had originally seen those buildings - ruined, grey,
empty. Screams filled the air in the jewelled city as its surviving citizens
witnessed the unstoppable destruction of their homes and families.
Where was I during all of this, you might ask. I stood in my little house,
atop the highest point in Climanti, awaiting death. I knew it was hopeless, and
fully expected to share the destruction that Zenos was wreaking about me; I
simply stood and watched as all of this took place, expecting every second to
be my last. I need hardly describe the heartbreaking, traumatic nature of this
experience as the marvellous jewelled city fell around me, that dismal picture
re-emerging, punctuated by the piercing distress of its inhabitants. I had
wholly given myself up to despair, before something occurred to reawaken my
concern and terror. In the skies above me, Juliana, Wundul and Torodae
appeared, evidently taking choreographed positions. They soon attracted the
attention of the monster that plagued us; He stopped, hanging above the city as
a largely formless mist.
It soon appeared that Torodae was to serve as bait, for he began to move
nearer to Zenos, attempting to keep His attention. He succeeded, to some
degree; while it was impossible to tell upon whom Zenos' attention rested, the
Soulless made no move to interfere with the working that Juliana and Wundul
then began to build, combining all of their strength and power into a spell
that, I assume, was intended to trap or immobilise Him. For long, breathless
moments it appeared as if it might work; absolute silence reigned over the
city, as, I am sure, every citizen stood like myself, watching this battle in
the sky.
Then I blinked. Zenos had moved with blinding speed, engulfing Torodae; life
and vitality departed him all at once, and the withered shell of this Vernal
fell away to the ground. I was frozen with horror as the Soulless rushed at
Juliana and Wundul; they released their working too soon; it barely held Him
for an instant. This instant was long enough for the two exhausted Vernals to
escape the fate of their comrade; however, drained by their efforts, they too
fell to the ground, spent, unconscious.
I cannot bring myself to fully describe what followed. With the defeat of all
three Vernals who stood in defence of Climanti, the jewelled city fell - not
gradually, but all at once; it took a bare few minutes for Zenos to complete
the terrible work He had begun, and as He engulfed the Gem Globe, Climanti
crumbled into dust and ruin. My last sight of beautiful Climanti was of Zenos
streaming over the destroyed city, rushing towards where my little house still
stood. I closed my eyes, resigned to the inevitable fate; but when I opened
them again, long seconds later, I knelt alone, in the silent, dead wastelands
in which my adventure had begun. I was left with one single, final vision;
Juliana's pale, exhausted form hovered above the broken city, and her weeping
was the only sound to be heard. There was little I could then do, but join her
in her grief, and weep as well.

Chapter Five: Epilogue

I have little left to say to my readers. To this day, I do not know by what
means my fate lead me to the Climanti of ages past, or by what design I was
blessed with those years in that wondrous, unique place, and the friendship of
such as Wundul Metheram. Nor do I understand by what curse I was obliged to
lose that very dear friend; or to witness the complete destruction of Climanti,
the terrible fate of Torodae, and the defeat of Juliana and Wundul. All of these
images have haunted me in the years that have passed following my return to my
own age; I have hoped, with this account, to finally put some of them to rest.
As we know, Juliana's plan did someday succeed, with the help of Vernals that
were later to rise. I have no doubt that my dear, loyal friend Wundul Metheram
was by Juliana's side during this event; and since his name has long since been
lost to the history books, I have the greatest satisfaction and a deep sense of
justice in restoring his name to the knowledge of the Basin. He will no longer
be remembered only as a nameless Vernal whose life was lost in the imprisoning
of Zenos; and it is a small comfort to me to be able to do this much for him. I
restore also the memory of Torodae, whom I did not know; but whose sacrifice was
no less courageous, and whose fate is no less worthy of remembrance. May these
two be remembered as the friends and supporters of the great Juliana, whose
name we all know: Torodae for his bravery, and Wundul for his wisdom and
extraordinary patience. In closing, I ask that the world remember that once
there existed a city that shone with all the colours of the rainbow; a place of
peace, tolerance and wisdom, a delight to its citizens and a beacon of glory to
the world. Climanti, the Jewelled City is gone, but may its reputation endure
forever.