Part 1 : Journey to Ironhope

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There was to be a Great Burning on the day of the autumn equinox. The call came to the tribes of the northern wastes, across the hills of Lochann and the downs of Ilunon. It travelled at the speed of rumour, almost faster than fire itself, over the Glass Lands and the moors of Ulumol and even as far downstream as the flood plains of the great river Osynder. The news reached Klane just before he set out to cross the high canyon lands and he felt a quickening of interest. A Great Burning was rare; a combination of a celebration and a lament. At the top of the Pass of Dust, he turned back to contemplate the rough land he had just climbed and paused for a moment. Then looking ahead again, Klane considered two routes that lay before him. Along the right hand ridge the way led down to a steep forest track running south. To his left the ground sloped more gently over a rough rocky plateau broken by occasional stands of dry grass. In this direction, far in the distance could be seen a low range of greener hills where rain was more plentiful and the land kinder and gentler. His original intent had been to take the road south, heading for the sea and following tales of an ancient Enclave he wished to investigate. But now he hesitated. The breeze dropped for a moment as if the world held its breath at this delicate moment of destiny. Then Klane turned Lyr's head to the north. He had decided to see the Great Burning for himself.

Though he was still a young man, time and experience had left the first faint imprints of maturity on Klane's face. He was no longer the callow youth who had fled from the ruins of Kalonia vowing vengeance on its destroyers. For two years he had lived as the consort of the princess Lucalle whom he had rescued from a monstrous alien abductor which had been keeping her prisoner in a crater on the moors of Ulumol. Now he was a minor prince amongst the Riders, honoured and respected with the story of the slaying of the creature and the freeing of its prisoners already spreading his fame. Yet though he had fine clothes, a comfortable home and a beautiful lover, he was not happy. Ever restless and impatient with the formal duties of his new role, he looked always outwards and his wanderlust was not sated. He still nurtured the craving for justice against his enemies which had made him change his name and promise to track them down to the ends of the Earth and he felt that whilst he dallied this goal receded from him. Perhaps if there had been children he would have let himself forget in time? Perhaps. But there were none. And seeing his unhappiness one windy day, Lucalle suddenly understood that they must part, for a little while at least and mayhap forever, before this sorrow turned to something worse and there was only bitterness and regret between them. So it was that Klane now found himself making for the site of the Great Burning across the bleak stony highlands of a strange land. The place to which he travelled was called Ironhope, a small town on the shores of a small lake. These were the last days of Ironhope. The law of the Vow of Earth had come down from the Enclaves. It would be the task of the assembled Rider tribes to raze Ironhope to the ground.

It was a cool autumn afternoon when Klane rode into town. By the standards of elder days Ironhope was little more than a hamlet yet in the wilful amnesia of the Great Forgetting it was considered a significant settlement. Such places were rare and only the Enclaves were permitted to grow larger. Klane could already see the tents of the gathering tribes on the far hill side. A brush of smoke rose from the blacksmith's chimney and a mother and her two children watched him in silence from the edge of the low stone wall ringing the inner perimeter. He shivered, sensing the melancholy of the inhabitants at the imminent destruction of their homes and he could not help but remember how he had felt when Kalonia was burnt.

Some Riders lived in very small farming communities of three of four buildings like the one where Klane had recently dwelt with Lucalle and fifteen of their royal household but most of them were semi-nomadic, moving from camp to camp in prescribed circuits bound loosely to larger tribal groups. Even so, the Riders all needed agreed places to trade, to perform specialist tasks like the shoeing of horses, the weaving of fine cloth and the tailoring of clothes, the brewing of beer and the slaughter and butchery of stock when the time came.

A town was a necessary evil for the provision of these essential services and the nurturing of the skills that went with them but no town was ever trusted by true Riders.

Towns acquired names and with names came a great risk for a name was a seed out of which History might grow. All the riders knew the dangers of History and how the Vow of Earth had been made so that it could never again bring tyranny to their people. That was why they undertook to make a Great Burning when a town was too old, to clear away the traces of any such History as might have gathered to taint long standing buildings. Then the people would be scattered, taken under the protection of the Riders and new towns might be established safely in different places and with new names. In this way the Riders were taught that History could not get a foothold. Without periodic Great Burnings, old towns would be certain to grow into young cities and then the Season of Innocence would surely pass.

Ironhope had held its name for two full generations. Now the Conclave had declared that it must be erased.

Whilst they might understand what the Vow of Earth ordered and why, the citizens of Ironhope could not all be expected to welcome the prospect of starting again.

Legends of Klane Kalonia 03 : The Great Burning

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