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antishurtugal_rebornMG: Well, everyone, the time has come to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s Elminster: The Making of a Mage! Last time, we had a random and irrelevant introduction in the “present” with Lhaeo and Mourngrym, and then jumped back over a thousand years into the past, where a mage named Myrjala attacked a castle because a spy for a group called the magelords of Athalantar, who are apparently bad news, was staying there. Today, it’s time to meet Elminster himself… and get a whole lot of exposition dumped on us, too. Joining us once again will be Keeri and Mira!
Chapter One: Dragon Fire – And Doom
*we find ourselves in the sporking chamber, where Mira is playing a haunting, dirge-like melody on a lute, her expression indicating she is completely lost in the music. Keeri watches her in fascination*
Keeri: *shaking her head* Damn. I thought I was pretty well versed in music – get it -but I’ve never heard anything like that. Who knew she had it in her? *beat* Then again, I used to make my living signing in taverns before… everything… happened to me, so I guess I wasn’t exactly getting a highbrow sample… *she notices mg glaring at her and throws up her hands* Fine, fine, I get it. Talk about bad book now, music later. And so, we open our ominously titled chapter (which is also the beginning of Part One – Brigand) with a quote, which I guess is pretty typical of Greenwood. This one is from a mage named Astragarl Hornwood who has some advice for an apprentice. Dragons? Splendid things, lad—so long as ye look upon them only in tapestries, or in the masks worn at revels, or from about three realms off.… *quietly* I once met a dragon. She was wise and kind and gleamed a radiant silver in the sun, and so long as she was there I thought Kenabres was safe and nothing could ever hurt us… and then the Lord of Locusts split her skull in two with his scythe, and I learned that there are far more terrible things in the world than dragons… *she goes quiet for a moment, then perks up, suddenly brighter* But, enough about the past, where were we?
The sun beat down bright and hot on the rock pile that crowned the high pasture. Far below, the village, cloaked in trees, lay under a blue-green haze of mist—magic mist, some said, conjured by the mist-mages of the Fair Folk, whose magic worked both good and ill. The ill things were spoken of more often, of course, for many folk in Heldon did not love elves. So, charming pastoral opening, got it. As for elves, I’ve known a couple. Ember’s a sweet girl, if a bit odd; the Storyteller seems all right, though he’s even odder, if anything. As for others… some of them leave a bit to be desired. But of course, our hero doesn’t share the prejudices of the community where he grew up. Elminster was not one of them. He hoped to meet the elves someday—really meet, that is—to touch smooth skin and pointed ears, to converse with them. These woods had once been theirs, and they yet knew the secret places where beasts laired and suchlike. He’d like to know all that, someday, when he was a man and could walk where he pleased. Well, if what I’ve heard is true, you’re probably going to end up getting more elves than you bargained for… but that’s a while off yet, and I’m not sure if it’s in this book or the next? And am I the only one who thinks that bit about touching their skin and ears is a little… weird? So, Elminster’s presently a shepherd boy out watching his flock, and he adjusts himself on the rock he’s leaning up against and we get a bit of description of him. Not for the first time, the bony, beak-nosed youth peered south, squinting. Brushing unruly jet-black hair aside with one slim hand, he kept his fingers raised to shade his piercing blue-gray eyes, trying vainly to see the turrets of far off, splendid Athalgard, in the heart of Hastarl, by the river. But it’s too far off for him to see, and apparently his father has told him that’s a good thing, but won’t tell his son why, which annoys him. El hated secrets—at least those he didn’t know. He’d learn all the secrets someday, somehow. Someday, too, he’d see the castle the minstrels said was so splendid … mayhap even walk its battlements … aye.… So, the kid dreams big. Can’t fault him for that, but, fair warning… sometimes when you learn secrets, you’ll end up deciding you were better off not knowing.
MG: And I’ll just note that starting off here, our first impression of the young Elminster is that he’s one acme fantasy hero, straight from the assembly line. Young farmboy, dreaming big dreams beyond his rural village, wishing for adventure, has a family that apparently has important secrets… check, check, check. Let’s see if he manages to keep checking off elements as we go, shall we? *beat* By the way, I have a genuine question that I wonder if anyone knows the answer to – the world seems to have collectively decided that the generic fantasy hero is, in fact, a young farmboy, and that’s the descriptor that tends to be used as a shorthand for such a character… but where does that trope come from in the first place? Not just “the hero is of humble – or allegedly humble – origins,” mind, but farmboys specifically. None of Tolkien’s heroes are farmboys (the hobbits are rural, but the closest to an actual farmboy is Sam, who is both a gardener’s son, and gardener himself; Bilbo, Frodo, Merry and Pippin are actually all well-off, by hobbit standards). Conan wasn’t a farmboy; neither was Elric. None of the heroes of The Worm Ouroboros, arguably the ur-example of the modern epic fantasy novel (predating LotR by decades) were farmboys, or even commoners. The Pevensies weren’t farm kids. Shea from The Sword of Shannara is an innkeeper’s son. And while there are a bunch of famous farmboy heroes, they’re all from works – Star Wars, the Belgariad, WoT, Eragon, etc. – that are very clearly deliberately (and in some cases, directly admitted by the author) trope-y; none of them originated the idea. There was Taran from Prydain, of course, but was Prydain really that influential? And yet I guarantee if you talk about the generic epic fantasy protagonist, you’ll almost always get some variation of “the farmboy with a magic sword.” Is there some massively influential work I’ve missed, or did the world just decide the generic fantasy hero was a farmboy for no particular reason? Regardless of its origins, though, young Elminster fits the archetype to a T.
Mira: *puts her lute aside and shrugs* I admit, I have no insight. Then again, I’ve never even seen a real farm. I’ve never left Hollowfaust, and we necromancers spend most of our time underground. Not many farms there. But Elminster feels a cool breeze blow and knows that soon the leaves will start to fall and wraps his worn coat – which apparently once belonged to a dead forester, whose soul I dearly hope was laid to rest properly and is not now haunting it – around him more tightly. Suddenly from behind he hears a strange roar of wind and turns to find a being looming over him. The sky above the meadow was filled with two huge, batlike wings—and between them, a dark red scaled bulk larger than a house! Long-taloned claws hung beneath a belly that rose into a long, long neck, which ended in a head that housed two cruel eyes and a wide-gaping jaw lined with jagged teeth as long as Elminster was tall! Trailing back far behind, over the hill, a tail switched and swung.… A dragon! Oh. So, that’s why the chapter is called that. At least, a dragon we have, and so fire and doom must be sure to follow… Elminster barely has time to note that the dragon bears a rider, and then he meets its eyes; and he found himself gazing full into the old, wise, and cruel eyes of the great wyrm. Deep they were, and unblinking; pools of dark evil into which he plunged, sinking, sinking.… The dragon lands with a great crash, and Elminster, cursing with the worst oath he knows (which isn’t much…) is seized by magic and pulled towards it. The dragon’s rider dismounts and approaches him. Elminster felt his gaze dragged—that horrible, helpless feeling in his body again, the cruel control of another’s will moving his own limbs—to meet the man’s eyes. Looking into the eyes of the dragon had been terrible but somehow splendid. This was worse. These eyes were cold and promised pain and death … perhaps more. El tasted the cold tang of rising fear. Hmm, yes. A dragon is what it is, as my masters might say. The more terrible monsters come from our own kind. Which we of Hollowfaust know all too well…
There was cruel amusement in the man’s almond eyes. El forced himself to look a little down and aside, and saw the dusky skin around those deadly eyes, and coppery curls, and a winking pendant on the man’s hairless breast. I… I don’t think that this man doesn’t have hair on his chest in really the important thing right now? Unless shaving it helps him cast magic, somehow… Under it were markings on the man’s skin, half-hidden by his robe of darkest green. He wore rings, too, of gold and some shining blue metal, and soft boots finer than any El had ever seen. The faint blue glow of magic—something Father had said only Elminster could see, and must never speak of—clung to the pendant, the rings, the robes, and the markings on the man’s breast, as well as to what looked like the ends of smoothed wooden sticks, protruding from high slits on the outside of the man’s boots. Umm, isn’t Elminster supposed to be untrained? How can he apparently cast wizard sight without training? Unless he’s a sorcerer, but I don’t think he is… in Hollowfaust, the guilds identify potential necromancers by divination, we don’t just expect children to manifest talents on their own… at least, that’s how it was with me… That rare glow rippled more brightly around the man’s outstretched arm … but Elminster didn’t need any other secret sign to know that this was a wizard. He could also be a sorcerer? Or possibly a warlock? Though with all the magical equipment he’s apparently carrying, I would probably guess wizard, too. We do love our equipment…
MG: And no, I don’t know why untrained kid Elminster seems to have a permanent wizard sight effect going, and we don’t get any explanation for it later, iirc, beyond “he’s just that gifted.” And again, while this book was written before the wizard/sorcerer divide was codified… Elminster’s always, always been depicted as a wizard and never as a sorcerer even after it was (and our wizard here is so obviously a wizard it’s not like we needed any further confirmation). I guess Greenwood just wanted to make absolutely sure we know the kid’s going to be special, even before he has any reason to know it.
Keeri: Well, the wizard asks Elminster the village’s name – Heldon – if its lord is there now – he is – and that lord’s name – Elthryn. All of which he’s compelled to answer by magic. The wizard gets Elminster to describe Elthryn a bit for him, and finally seems satisfied that he’s learned what he wanted and casts another spell, this one sending Elminster running off - He pounded hard through the grass, helpless against the driving magic, stumbling in haste, charging down the grassy slope to where the meadow ended—in a sheer drop into the ravine. Wait, he’s trying to kill Elminster by forcing him to toss himself off a cliff, really? Is that really the most efficient way to kill a person he has? Couldn’t he use a fireball, or lightning, or, I don’t know, feed him to the giant dragon he brought with him? Or is he just that much of a sadistic asshole? I mean, he’s killing a kid for no real reason, so I guess he is at that, but still… But as Elminster runs, he’s pleased to think to himself that at least he never told the wizard that Elthryn is his father. *flatly* Wow. What a twist. Whoever saw that one coming? Meanwhile, Elminster’s almost reached the cliff, and tries desperately to free himself as he plunges over the edge. Sometimes, he could move things with his mind. Sometimes—please, gods, let it be now! Wait, wait, the kid can do two spells untrained? Already? We sure he’s really going to be a wizard and not a witch? Let’s check to see if he’s got a familiar following him around, like Ember’s raven… Well, raven or no raven, Elminster manages to summon up a white light at the last minute and knocks himself aside into a bush that breaks his fall. Considering he’s apparently still alive more than a thousand years later, this is somehow not that surprising. In pain but in one piece, Elminster manages to pull himself to his feet in time to spot the dragon, circling overhead and in the process of munching on a couple of his sheep as it goes. Then the wizard on its back shouts an order, and the dragon wheels around and dives straight for Heldon! Elminster desperately climbs up to the top of the cliff and looks down on the village… and the scene ends as he sees what’s happening down there and screams.
We then cut to Elthryn himself – Elthryn Aumar, apparently – as he hears someone scream and jumps up from his ledgers to rush outside, grabbing his sword as he goes. The Lion Sword, oldest treasure of Athalantar, shone its proud flame as he came out into the sunlight. Strong magics slumbered in the old blade, and as always, it felt solid in Elthryn’s hand, hungry for blood. Elthryn, friend, take it from a bard… if your sword is hungry for blood of its own accord, seek help immediately. Outside, he sees the townsfolk fleeing and panicking, and the air is full of smoke – he wonders if brigands or orcs are attacking, and then realizes that his own cottage is on fire! He calls out a name – Amrythale – and goes running towards it. He knew some folk had whispered that a common forester’s lass must have used witchery to find a bridal bed with one of the most respected princes of Athalantar—but Elthryn had loved her. And she him. He gazed in horror at her pyre, and in his memory saw her smiling face. So, I guess that’s Elminster’s mother, then? And she’s dead before we even had the chance to meet her? Seriously, Greenwood, why do you expect us to care? Elthryn cries out in horror and demands to know who did this, and speak of Asmodeus, a roar that literally shakes the street echoes from the sky. Looking up he finally spots the red dragon circling overhead – guess powers of observation aren’t Elthryn’s strong suit, then – and the rider on its back, who he doesn’t recognize but knows must be a wizard, and that could mean only one thing: the cruel hand of his eldest brother Belaur was finally about to close on him. Oooh, so it’s a family visit. By proxy, anyway. That always makes things more interesting, but my hopes still aren’t high. So, we learn that Elthryn inherited the Lion Sword because he was their father’s favorite, and Belaur always resented him for it. But while the sword is magical, it’s no match for a dragon and a wizard. The wizard, meanwhile, is busy shooting civilians with lightning bolts… for fun, I guess? Hey, aren’t you here for a political assassination or something, if Elthryn’s on the right track? Maybe pay attention to that now, and do target practice later? So Elthryn lifts the sword to his lips and kisses it, fixing the image of his son in his mind. Elminster, with all his loneliness, seriousness, and homeliness, and with his secret, the mind powers the gods gave few folk in Faerûn. Perhaps the gods had something special in mind for him. Oh, if only you knew. And so, the scene ends as Elthryn whispers a message, I guess through the sword’s magic. “Live, my son,” he whispered. “Live to avenge thy mother and restore honor to the Stag Throne. Hear me!”
MG: The reference to “mind powers” makes me think that Elminster’s powers earlier might not be meant to be arcane magic, but psionic instead. Which is even more confusing, because while Elminster apparently canonically does have some aptitude for psionics, he’s never actually developed it since he’s preferred to focus his studies on arcane magic instead and has never, in any edition that I know of, had levels in any psionic class (and Faerun in general tends to be a setting where psionics are fairly rare and, outside of certain groups like the illithids or the drow of House Oblodra, poorly understood, in contrast to settings like Eberron or Dark Sun that make psionics more central). And if so… well, this book isn’t The Making of a Psion, after all, so Elminster’s psionic gifts, or lack thereof, are going to end up being entirely irrelevant. Yay.
Mira: And so, we find ourselves back with Elminster, as he’s rushing back to the village and receives his father’s message. Realizing that his father is about to die, he cries out that he’s coming and races ahead, despite knowing there’s likely nothing he can do. And excuse me, but didn’t your father tell you to live to avenge him? I don’t think running towards the wizard and dragon is likely to help with that… though if you’re interested in seeking revenge from beyond the grave, I know some people who could help you with that. We then return to Elthryn, as the dragon is circling but its rider is ignoring him, as he prefers to shoot at fleeing townsfolk instead. Has… has he just not realized who Elthryn is? Is that why he’s killing literally everyone but the person he’s seemingly here to kill? My, he’s not very good at this, is he? Finally, as the dragon makes another pass, the wizard notices him and carelessly – oh dear – aims a wand at him. There’s a brilliant flash of light, but Elthryn is unharmed as the sword absorbs the magic. This gets the wizard’s attention, and Elthryn raises the sword and curses him, hoping – though he knows it’s unlikely – that this will provoke the wizard into flying down to fight him directly. Using his sword’s magic, Elthryn manages to deflect a curse from the wizard, and a bolt from his other wand, and he has time to pray to Mystra that his son will escape before the dragon breathes on him – and this, his sword can’t stop. I think the wizard should have done this earlier? Bright dragon fire roared around Elthryn Aumar, and as he snarled defiance and swung his blade at the raging flames, he was overwhelmed and swept away. *bowing her head respectfully* And so ends Elthryn Aumar. I didn’t know him well, but he met his end with courage; we shall sing his song.
As for another Aumar, we cut back to Elminster as he runs into the ruins of the town, passing collapsed buildings and burned bodies, to find that no one is left alive. The dragon had gone; Elminster was alone with the dead. I’ve been alone with the dead many times; they’re actually better company than you might think, once you get to know them! Though those were not, admittedly, the murdered bodies of everyone I ever knew and loved… And so Elminster searches through the village, looking for his parents’ bodies. At last, amid a pile of ashes, he stumbles upon the half-melted remains of the Lion Sword; the blade and the magic are gone, but the hilt is mostly intact, and Elminster clutches it as he weeps. When he finally becomes aware of his surroundings once again, he realizes that night has fallen and hears the howling of wolves in the distance. He decides he has to get to safety before the wolves come to town to scavenge (did the dragon leave enough… remains… unburnt to make that worthwhile?) but before he does, he has a promise to make. “I shall slay that wizard, and avenge ye all—or die in the trying. Hear me … Mother, Father. This I swear.” A wolf howls in answer, and Elminster flees the ruined village, not looking back. And thus I think we have our plot for this story. Though I have to wonder… why did Greenwood destroy Heldon in its very first appearance? Surely this would have been more affecting if he allowed us to become attached to it first? Honoring the dead is one of the chief duties of my guild, but… I don’t know any of these people but Elthryn, and him only barely! How can I honor the dead when I don’t know them!?
Keeri: Well, we then cut to Elminster waking up in a nearby cave, still clutching the remains of the Lion Sword. He can hear voices outside, talking; one of them says that the massacre clearly wasn’t a normal raid, since no one has any sword wounds. Ah, have you checked for spear or mace wounds? There are more weapons than swords, you know. For the Abyss’s sake, a good sword’s expensive, and bandits aren’t choosy! This leads the voices to argue over what kills with fire and destroys whole buildings, but doesn’t use weapons, and the answer is the obvious one – a dragon. Apparently, though, the speakers didn’t see a dragon (if they were nearby, how’d they miss it? It wasn’t exactly subtle) and one of them suggests it could’ve been a mage instead (as it happens, it was a mage and a dragon, funnily enough. Not funny for all the dead people, but… you know what I mean). Someone named Helm then tells the others to make camp, saying that if there are any survivors, or anyone else who could tell them what happened, the cookfire might draw them out. Elminster hears them leave and gets up to follow – only to walk right into a man with a sword waiting outside the cave! Elminster decides this must be Helm and tells him to leave his sheep alone. Brave. Not smart, but brave. But Helm has no interest in fighting a boy and asks if Elminster’s from Heldon, which he was. Elminster then out of nowhere calls Helm a thief and tries to attack him again. “You’d not be so calm if there were knights of Athalantar near! They kill brigands, you know,” And then Helm admits that, shock of shocks, he is a knight! Sworn to the Stag King himself, gods and goddesses watch over him. If there weren’t so gods-cursed many wizards down in Hastarl, kinging it over the lot of us with the hired brigands they call ‘loyal armsmen,’ I’d be riding a realm at peace—an’ doubtless ye’d still have a home, an’ thy folks an’ neighbors’d be alive!”
Elminster holds up the hilt of the Lion Sword and asks if Helm knows it, and it turns out that, of course, he does. “It should be in Uthgrael’s tomb. How came you by it, boy?” Elminster says it was his father’s sword, and is now his, and he demands to know who Uthgrael is that it would be in his tomb. *rubbing a hand over her eyes* Okay, I know Elminster’s just a kid, and I know he’s distraught, but has he really not figured this out yet? I think I’ve figured it out and I’ve literally never heard of Uthgrael before I read this. How little about his own kingdom does he know, anyway? Helm says he’ll explain, but only if Elminster tells him who his father was first. “My father is—was—Elthryn Aumar. Everyone called him the uncrowned lord of Heldon.” Huh; so I guess Elthryn was more of a community leader than an actual lord, then? Though that doesn’t explain why the wizard was asking after the lord of Heldon like it was an actual title. Helm tells Elminster not to tell anyone who his father was, and Elminster doesn’t get why. I know my father was someone important, and he… he was killed by a wizard with two wands, who rode on the back of a dragon. A dark red dragon. Yeah, that’s why you don’t go telling people about your dad – the people who killed him might want to kill you too. So, Helm sits Elminster down, offers him food and drink and gives his word not to harm him, and promises him some answers. First off, Elminster tells him his name and confirms he was Elthryn’s only child; Helm also calls him “prince,” which Elminster takes as mockery but I’m pretty sure is going to turn out to be literal, all things considered. And indeed, Helm confirms that Elminster is in fact a Prince of Athalantar. Shocking.
Mira: And so, Helm finally starts giving some answers. Answers are good, I think? I like answers, usually – though they can sometimes also be disturbing, especially in my art. He asks Elminster what he knows about his parents, and it isn’t much. My mother was Amrythale Goldsheaf; her father was a forester. My father was proud of this sword—it had magic—and was glad that we couldn’t see Athalgard from Heldon. That’s all.” It’s more than I know about my parents, at least? Though I was raised in the guild for almost as long as I can remember. But Helm has some bad news for him; Wizards hunt folk of thy blood in Athalantar, these days. He then explains that Athalantar is known as the Kingdom of the Stag, after Uthgrael Aumar – the Stag King. Elminster’s grandfather. Elminster asks why, if he’s a prince, he’s not living in a palace in the capital right now, and Helm explains how Uthgrael, despite being the greatest swordsman he knew, died fighting orcs in the north some time ago. Alas, death comes for us all, however mighty – though it does seem to have been taking its time with the present-day Elminster! “Uthgrael was old an’ ready to die; after Queen Syndrel went to her grave, he fell to grimness an’ waited for a chance to fall in battle; I saw it in his eyes more than once. The orc chieftain who cut him down left the realm in the hands of his seven sons. There were no daughters.” A death of our own choosing is something few of us are assured of; I cannot fault him for that… though I can guess he left something of a mess behind him. Perhaps he should have put his affairs in order before quarreling with orcs? “Five princes were ruled by ambition, an’ were ruthless, cruel men, all. One of these, Felodar, was interested in gold above all else an’ traveled far in its pursuit—to hot Calimshan and beyond, lad, where he still is, for all I know—but the others all stayed in Athalantar.” Of the other two princes, one was timid and no threat to anyone, but the last was a kind, just man who preferred the life of a simple farmer to that of royalty – that was Elthryn. After he married a commoner, he retired to Heldon and renounced his claim to the throne.
The remaining princes then fought a war for succession and became known as The Warring Princes of Athalantar. Which seems a little blunt, to me? The winner, thus far, has been the eldest son, Belaur… Belaur bested his brothers—but his victory has cost him, an’ all of us, the realm. He bought the services of mages from all over Faerûn to win him the Stag Throne. He sits on it today—but his wits are so clouded by drink an’ by their magic that he doesn’t even know he barks only when they kick him: his magelords are the true rulers of Athalantar. Even the beggars in Hastarl know it.” Oh, so, enter the magelords, then. And I suppose the wizard who killed Elthryn was one of them, if he was doing it (allegedly) on Belaur’s orders? Elminster immediately asks how many magelords there are, and what their names are. Is… is he going down a checklist of what he wants to know? This seems a rather… specific question for a child who has just learned who is responsible for murdering his parents. Helm doesn’t know the answers to that, and he’s not sure anyone does, except Belaur and the palace servants. He then asks if Elminster has sworn to avenge his parents, and when he says he has, he warns him to be careful about it. bluntly. “Wait until ye’re older, an’ve gathered coins enough to buy mages of thy own. Ye’ll need them—unless ye want to spend the rest of your days as a purple frog swimming in some palace perfume-bowl for the amusement of some minor apprentice of the magelords. Though it took all of them to do it, an’ they had to split apart Wyrm Tower stone by stone, they slew old Shandrath—as powerful an archmage as ye’ll find in all the lands of men—two summers back.” He sighed. “An’ those they couldn’t smash with spells, they slew with blades or poison, Theskyn the court mage, for one. He was the oldest an’ most trusted of Uthgrael’s friends.” The first part of which seems sound advice, but all Elminster takes from it is that he needs to avenge their deaths, too. “Before I die, Athalantar will be free of these magelords—every last one, if I have to tear them apart with my bare hands. This I swear.” *she sighs* Noble words, young prince, but are you actually listening to what Helm is trying to tell you? I don’t think you are…
Keeri: Helm tells him that swearing an oath like that is stupid, and he’d probably die attempting it rather than doing any good, but Elminster just says that it’s his life to do with as he chooses. Okay, yeah, it is… but Helm’s trying to keep you from getting killed here, so maybe listen to him? And Helm calls him a fool, though he seems more amused than angry. He says a prudent person would leave Athalantar and never look back, but an Aumar would keep his oath even if it meant dying trying (uh, weren’t you just saying that most of the Aumars were a bunch of corrupt, backstabbing princelings? How is being compared to them a compliment?). He does warn Elminster not to announce to the world that he’s alive before he’s ready to act, though, or he’ll just get himself killed. The wizard ye saw over Heldon doubtless had orders to eliminate Prince Elthryn an’ all his blood before the son they knew he’d sired could grow old and well-trained enough to have royal ambitions of his own. Elminster finally seems to grasp how serious this is at this… and then he tells Helm he’ll let him have his sheep, if he’ll tell him the names of the magelords, so maybe not. Helm repeats that he doesn’t know any of them for sure, but he will give him the names of his uncles. “The eldest—thy chief enemy—is Belaur. A big, bellowing bully of a man, for all he’s seen but nine-and-twenty winters. Wait, wait, wait. Belaur’s only twenty-nine? And he's Elthryn’s older brother? And Elminster’s what, twelve? For the Abyss’s sake, Greenwood – was Elthryn twelve himself when he sired Elminster or what? *scrunches up her nose* Don’t answer that, I beg you.
MG: I honestly wonder if Elthryn, not Belaur, was originally intended to be the eldest Aumar brother, and then Greenwood changed it later. There’s some evidence for it later on, IMO – most obviously, Elminster is going to eventually be acting like he not only has a legitimate claim on the throne, but that his claim is better than Belaur’s, which wouldn’t be the case if Belaur was the eldest.
Keeri: *groans* Keep your story straight, Greenwood! I’m begging you. Cruel in the hunt and on the field, but the best trained to arms of all the princes. He’s shorter of wits than he thinks he is, an’ was Uthgrael’s favorite until he showed his cruel ways an’, o’er and o’er again, his short temper. He proclaimed himself king six summers ago, but many folk up and down the Delimbiyr don’t recognize his title. They know what befell. So, he’s a brute who thinks he should be in charge because his daddy was a king and he was older than his brothers even though everyone hates him; got it. Between this and the wizard, I guess Greenwood’s not big on complex antagonists, is he? Elminster asks about the second son; “ ’Tis thought he’s dead. Elthaun was a soft-tongued womanizer whose every third word was false. All the realm knew him for a master of intrigue, but he fled Hastarl a step ahead of Belaur’s armsmen. The word is, some of the magelords found him in Calimshan later that year, hiding in a cellar in some city—an’ used spells to make his death long and lingering.” Elminster asks about the third – literally counting them off on his fingers - “Cauln was killed before Belaur claimed the throne. He was a sneaking, suspicious sort an’ always liked watching wizards hurl fire an’ the like. He fancied himself a wizard—an’ was tricked into a spell duel by a mage commonly thought to be hired for the purpose by Elthaun. The mage turned Cauln into a snake—fitting—an’ then burst him apart from within with a spell I’ve never recognized or heard named. Then the first magelords Belaur had brought in struck him down in turn, ‘for the safety of the realm.’ I recall them proclaiming ‘Death for treason!’ in the streets of Hastarl when the news was cried.” The fourth was Elthryn. Well, at least he wasn’t the youngest, then? “Othglas was next—a fat man full of jolly jests, who stuffed himself at feasts every night he could. He was stouter than a barrel an’ could barely wheeze his way around on two feet. He liked to poison those who displeased him an’ made quite a push through the ranks of those at court, downing foes an’ any who so much as spoke a word aloud against him, and advancing his own supporters.” Greenwood… you’re really enjoying writing about how hilariously awful these people were, aren’t you?
Elminster protests that Helm is making his family seem like a lot of villains – wow, are you only just realizing that? Even after Belaur sent a wizard and a dragon to kill your father and burn your whole village down? Helm admits that the general consensus is that yes, they are – oh, and Othglas eventually fled Athalantar and became a priest of the god of hunting, Malar, and the magelords killed him by turning him into a boar and letting his fellow priests hunt him. Next is Felodar, who ran off to Calimshan, where he got involved in all sorts of illicit business. He’s still alive and hasn’t returned to Athalantar, though he apparently did once hire wizards of his own to try and kill Belaur, which I guess didn’t work out. “Last, there’s Nrymm, the youngest. A timid, frail, sullen little brat, as I recall. He was brought up by women of the court after the queen’s death, an’ may never have stepped outside the gates of Athalgard in his life. He disappeared about four summers ago.” Can’t help but notice Helm seems to be connecting Nrymm being raised by women with his being a brat, and I think I should be offended by that? He might be dead, though some people think the magelords have him in reserve somewhere, in case they decide they need to replace Belaur with a more biddable Aumar on the throne. And that’s that. What a crew! I think even Daeran would be embarrassed to be associated with these people, and when I met him, he was literally holding a party in the middle of a demon invasion. At least Daeran has fashion sense.
MG: And I’ll also note that, all of these lovingly described evil princes? Outside of Belaur, they’re all going to be completely irrelevant, and most of them will never be mentioned again. Thanks, Greenwood!
Mira: And so, Elminster decides that maybe being a prince of Athalantar isn’t such a noble thing and asks Helm for his advice on what to do; Helm says he has to decide for himself. “Go west, to the Horn Hills, and run with the outlaws there. Learn how to live hard, an’ use a blade—an’ kill. Your revenge, lad, isn’t catching one mage in a privy an’ running a sword up his backside—the gods have set ye up against far too many princes an’ wizards an’ hired lickspittle armsmen for that. Even if they all lined up and presented their behinds, your arm’d grow tired before the job was done.” Well, he’s… certainly willing to push young Elminster into a life of violence, isn’t he? If I was in Helm’s place, I think I’d recommend finding a good magical academy to study at instead, or at least a solitary wizard to apprentice with, if there aren’t any academies… surely that would serve him better than a sword? Even if he doesn’t end up choosing revenge, it’s still more worthwhile than learning to kill and nothing else! But Helm insists Elminster needs to stay in the countryside and learn to fight. In the cities, everything is under the hand—an’ the taint—of wizards. Evil rules, and good men must needs be outlaws—or corpses—if they’re to stay good. So be ye an outlaw an’ learn to be a good one.” That doesn’t seem very conducive to a long life, though? “If ye survive, travel Faerûn until ye find a weapon sharp enough to slay Neldryn—and then come back, and do it.” Elminster asks who Neldryn is, and Helm confirms that he means Neldryn Hawklyn, who is generally believed to be the most powerful of the magelords.
Elminster is outraged, since Helm had told him that he didn’t know any of the magelords’ names and accuses him of lying. From where I am looking… I don’t think that’s wrong? “ ’Truth,” Helm said, “is a weapon. Remember that.” So… I think that means he is lying? He just won’t admit it outright? Which doesn’t make him seem very trustworthy… Elminster asks if he can trust anything Helm said, and Helm promises that he wasn’t lying about anything else (ah, but can his promise be trusted?) and admits he knows the names of two of the other magelords. Seldinor Stormcloak and Kadeln Olothstar—but I’d not know the faces of any of the three if I bumped noses with them in a brothel bathing pool. *flushing* I, ah, wouldn’t know about such things, either. Elminster admits that Helm isn’t what he thought a knight would be like. “Ye thought to see shining armor, Prince? Astride a white horse as tall as a cottage? Courtly manners? Noble sacrifices? Not in this world, lad—not since the Queen of the Hunt died.” When Elminster doesn’t know who that is, he clarifies that she was Uthgrael’s wife, Syndrel. Elminster then gets up and tells Helm he has to be on his way – excuse me, but where are you going? If you insist on learning to fight magelords, and a perfectly good renegade knight who hates magelords has been furnished to you, surely it is to your benefit to make use of him? He promises they’ll meet again. “I hope so, lad. I hope so—an’ let it be when Athalantar is free of magelords again, an’ my ‘fellow wolves,’ the true knights of Athalantar, can ride again.” He gives Elminster directions, telling him to go west, and reminds him that the magelords’ armsmen aren’t knights and have no honor. Should he meet outlaws, tell them that Helm sent him, but don’t reveal his true name. Elminster thanks him – and oh, here it’s confirmed he is in fact twelve – and before he goes, Helm gives him his sword, since he can get another. Elminster heads off, practicing with his sword, and Helm watches him go, wondering when he’d hear of the lad’s death. Well, maybe if you’d kept him with you and trained him – or sent him to study somewhere safe, with master mages instead of bandits – you wouldn’t have to worry about that! Sir Helm, I think you are the worst teacher I have ever seen. And some of my teachers were liches. Still, the first duty of a knight is to make the realm shine in the dreams of small boys—or where else will the knights of tomorrow arise, and what will become of the realm? What about small girls? Can they be knights? Do their dreams matter? And yes, Helm has just been speaking to a boy; it just seems like an oversight, is all. And does helping a small boy achieve his dreams matter either, if you expect that boy to die trying? Also, I thought the first duty of a knight was to serve their sovereign – then again, we don’t have many knights in Hollowfaust, at least not the living kind, or sovereigns either. But Helm is left alone, brooding about Athalantar’s future, as the chapter finally comes to an end.
MG: And I’ve got to say, the thing that really jumps out at me about this chapter is the pacing issues. It never sits still. First, we meet Elminster, then his father is killed and Heldon destroyed, then we get Helm and his giant infodump… all in one chapter, with none of it given the amount of attention it deserves. Especially the opening – we get no sense of Elminster’s life, we never meet his mother at all and his father only briefly, we get absolutely no sense of Heldon and its inhabitants before it’s all burned down, and it’s all thrown at us so fast it’s essentially impossible to be invested in it at all. And this is only the start of the book’s pacing issues – everything is either too fast or too slow, and we’re never given a chance for the book to just breathe. And the infodump is itself rather weird in terms of its focus and content. For one, how does Elminster not know anything about this? Sure, Elthryn was trying to keep his son out of the family mess, but even so, he seems to know essentially nothing about the politics and history of his own country, the bloody civil war it just came out of, or even the name of its king – he might as well have fallen out of the sky and landed outside Heldon just before the chapter began, for all he seems to be connected to his own kingdom! And he’s not just some random peasant kid – he’s a prince’s son! An abdicated prince turned farm town mayor, but even so. Structurally the whole conversation also feels weird, like’s it’s something out of a CRPG dialogue where Elminster is presented with a list of each prince and magelord and clicks on each name in turn to be told about them; I can practically picture the menu in my mind, even! And that’s not getting into the fact that, like I mentioned previously, the various princes will be almost entirely irrelevant to the book, outside of Belaur. The three magelords are a bit better – we will be meeting all of them, among others, but none of them was the magelord who attacked Heldon and killed Elthryn, and who will thus be the primary object of Elminster’s revenge. And Helm (not to be confused with the Faerunian god of the same name) has already proven he’s about as good of a mentor as the adult Elminster will be, which is to say, he’s completely worthless at it and seems to expect his charge will get killed following his advice. What a guy. Anyway, that’s the first chapter of The Making of a Mage down. Next time, we’ll catch up with Elminster as he begins his new life of crime. We’ll see you then!
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Date: 2024-06-04 01:53 pm (UTC)Any relation to the demon king Astfgl from the Discworld?
Huh, good question. Earliest example of a similar trope I can think of is from those old myths about the King starting out as a swineherd or something.
I have! It had cows and crops and everything. The short description: expect lots and lots of mud. Also cowpats.
If he's a nobleman's son, what on earth is he doing working as a shepherd?
This is hardly the time or place to be thinking about that, my dude.
He broke one of the golden rules of writing fiction: introduce the initial setting and the characters in it before you destroy it and kill everyone. In the last fantasy trilogy I wrote we get to see the protagonist's home and how he lives in it and who his friends are and such in the first chapter. Later on when the place is laid waste by the villains I made special mention of him seeing the dead bodies of the named characters I had previously made a few mentions of, which helps to hammer home just how much he has lost and that these were people and not just faceless redshirts who were murdered.
It's THINE own, you moron.
"She turned me into a newt!"
"A newt?"
"...I got better."
You know what this reminds me of? The first draft of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. According to Roald Dahl, he originally had like twenty odd awful children whose awfulness he described in great detail because he was having so much fun doing it. Then he showed the manuscript to his daughter, who said "Dad, this is really boring". So he sensibly trimmed it down to the four we see in the mostly final version.
So we've got head-hopping as well. Wonderful.
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Date: 2024-06-05 04:07 pm (UTC)Considering what we later learn about Elthryn and his brothers, pretty sure we're meant to take away that he was a nobleman-in-name-only at this point.
He broke one of the golden rules of writing fiction: introduce the initial setting and the characters in it before you destroy it and kill everyone. In the last fantasy trilogy I wrote we get to see the protagonist's home and how he lives in it and who his friends are and such in the first chapter. Later on when the place is laid waste by the villains I made special mention of him seeing the dead bodies of the named characters I had previously made a few mentions of, which helps to hammer home just how much he has lost and that these were people and not just faceless redshirts who were murdered.
*seconding all of this*
It's THINE own, you moron.
Unfortunately, Greenwood writes Elminster - and to a lesser extent, everyone else from Athalantar - with a very inconsistent faux-medieval dialect. It's very distracting.
You know what this reminds me of? The first draft of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. According to Roald Dahl, he originally had like twenty odd awful children whose awfulness he described in great detail because he was having so much fun doing it. Then he showed the manuscript to his daughter, who said "Dad, this is really boring". So he sensibly trimmed it down to the four we see in the mostly final version.
Alas, if Greenwood ever had anyone who said anything like that to him... pretty sure he ignored them. It's the only explanation for just how... inexplicably bad some of his stuff is (like the random twenty-year timeskip he throws into the last quarter of Elminster in Myth Drannor that somehow fails to affect the plot at all).
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Date: 2024-06-06 11:01 am (UTC)That really needed to be properly spelled out.
And unnecessary.
Doesn't matter how brilliant you are, or how popular: you need a good editor, and you need to listen to that editor.