Worldbuilding Wednesday – Maps before and after the Sundering

At last I’ve put some time to good use to draw proper (meaning neater and without so many notes) maps of Airthai before and after the Great Sundering. And there is even a third one I’ve drawn and is using as a starting point for the tales in the Seafolk’s lands. Where the first tale about Nasja played out in the Midlands and had him leave his home at a very young age, the cities and towns now need to be much more concrete.

The first map is of the world of Airthai before the Great Sundering. There is only one continent and a couple of the larger isles. The sea dragons of the south are sound asleep in the depths of the ocean and the darkness of a fall turns slowly from rumours to a reality.

The World of Airthai Before the Great Sundering

The second map shows the world after the Great Sundering. The continent has been split in two to form the Continent and the Sundered Lands. More isles are visible, but also the jutting rocks that make it impossible for the (current) ships to sail between the Southern and the Sundered Lands. The Dragon Guardians live on the southwest of the southern coast and sea dragons roam the new-formed Southern Sea.

The Continent and the Sundered Lands After the Great Sundering

I’m using the third map for two short stories at the moment and it is a closer look at the Dragon Cliffs, the homes of the Dragon Guardians, ruins of Dhôr and other cities and town along this stretch of coast. 

Here be dragons of both land and sea!

On Monday I'll have some new Airthai flash fiction ready. 

Until Friday,

A Agrai tellarias or s’agrélar silássa.

Fiction Monday: A piece from a WIP

Sometimes you write something perfect the first time – or, at least, as near to perfect as you can. Sometimes you just need to put it aside for a while before a rewrite. And sometimes you find out that the piece you’re working on will needs some more work; or have gone from light-hearted fun to something more sinister in a world you want to know more about. And then you realise you’re going to need some more rewrites before you’re completely happy with it. But this is the story so far…

Alenisse, the Wizard's Apprentice

(Being part 2 of Wizard and the Shadows)

Alenisse had followed the other refugees to the south, fleeing the northern lands wrecked with war. She had been stupid – waiting through all the rumours and never believing that war would truly come. And then it had been too late. The redeemer was not in the north and the wizards were left with no other choice but to flee to the south as well, following the Skadu'sdinge that spread from their Lord, bent on taking on all of the lands for themselves.

She nearly caught up with the wizard She'ne'ar in Dorburg, but found that he had left a day after arriving. He had been like a father to her, and, like her, could feel the tug of the Shadow and know the fear that clutched at your heart as a product of the Shadow. He was moving fast, following the Skadu'sdinge and she would follow him. Perhaps he had a rare gift and sensed the redeemer further south. She felt nothing until she had passed through Dorburg.

The tug on her mind led her into the valley with its various settlements. Terraced fields lay green and fresh and she could almost forget the stench of smoke and battle that had wrecked her home. The people on the farms took in some of the refugees – mostly those strong enough to work or old enough for their pity. She could not stop, no matter how tired she was. Not now. Not with the tug of the Shadow growing stronger. She was gaining.

She followed the road and the tug of the Shadow to a village and the end of the valley. Refugees huddled in the muddy streets, some begging for money, food or work. Some had enough money to rent a room in the inn and or afford a warm dinner. She made her way to the inn, fighting to keep back the tears from fatigue and the pain of her bruised and blistered feet. He would be waiting there, she surmised, waiting for a message or a sign.

She was still some way away when she saw the wizard coming from the inn and stumbling away from her. Her heart beat faster and she pushed the pain in her feet and body aside. With short, nervous strides she followed him through the village. When he spoke in the ancient tongue, she heard the words echo in her mind. The Fear started to grip her and then she, too, started speaking in the tongue, driving the Shadow away.

The wizard turned a corner and Alenisse had to run a few steps to keep up. As she turned into the next street, a blinding pain shot through her mind before pulling away. The Skadu'sdinge knew she was here, the thought flashed through her mind before another flash of pain pelted her. She sank to her knees, unable to fight the pain in her weakened state. Then, suddenly, the pain was gone. The Shadows had found other prey. She stumbled to her feet again. 

When she caught up with him, he was already fighting the Skadu'sdinge, his strong voice accompanied by swirling wind. Inside the house she could just make out the boy he was protecting. The people in the streets fled from the place, some making a sign against evil. Alenisse yearned to follow them, to obey the hammering of fear that begged her to get away from this place as far as she could. With her last resolve she urged her body forward to help her master. But then the old wizard's legs buckled and he fell, the wind dying even as his heartbeat slowed. Alenisse ran over, cursing herself for being such a coward. She knelt by the old wizard, the tears she had kept inside so long flowing free. She put her hand on his brow to try and calm him. To try and keep him with her. “Rus in vrede, my vriend. Hê rus op jou nuwe pad," she uttered between the tears, wishing the sound of her voice would let him notice her as well before he passed. But he only looked at the boy. The boy who did not even know the ancient tongue or why he had been chosen.

She wiped the tears from her eyes while fine ash fell all around them. He had destroyed the Skadu'sdinge plaguing the boy this night. And now she would take up the fight. She will have to be strong. The Shadow still spread its fear and she felt the incessant tug on her mind. She rose, turning in the direction of the tug.

A dark figure materialised from the shadows, in his hand a dagger of pure shadow. Alenisse swallowed. This one would not be driven away or destroyed by uttering a few words. She became still inside, pushing aside the fear that emanated from the Shadow being. In the silence she found the source of power inside of her. She reached out to the light and drew upon its energy. She lifted her hands, stepping between the Shadow being and the boy, telling him to stay behind her. The power she unleashed slammed into the Shadow being and he took a step back, ash falling from his chest. He laughed hollowly, turning his featureless head towards her. But he reached his fear and shadow past her to the boy. She hit him with another blow of power, this time targeting the faceless features turned to her. He howled, ash falling from the shadow-face. Alenisse smiled. There was some things the Shadow could not take from humans. She reached inside of her, gathering up as much light and power as she could.

"Na die verderf met jou," she said under her breath and released a flow of power. The power was this time lit with a blinding light. The Shadow tried to duck around the flow and stabbed with his shadow blade at Alenisse. He was able to cut her arm before the lights engulfed him. His pained howl was cut off abruptly. Ash rained to the ground.

Alenisse felt the peace of the power remain even though her power was all spent. She sank to the ash strewn ground just as her master before her.

The boy neared her, his face smeared with ash and tears. Alenisse reached up to her neck and took the orange stone set in silver, giving it to the boy. "Go south," she said, placing the stone in his palm. "The stone will lead you. You are the one, you are the saviour of our people." His face seemed to be lit by sunlight and she smiled even as her sight dimmed.

Wizard

Inspiration Friday: a haunting song by Koos du Plessis

One of the earliest songs I can recall hearing and seeing a music video for, was one of Koos du Plessis’ songs. Titled “Sprokie vir ’n stadskind”, or “Fairy tale for a city child”, it also formed part of various Afrikaans poetry lessons.  Much like his “Kinders van die wind” (Children of the wind), it is a beautiful and haunting piece with multiple layers of meaning. Of course, about twenty years later, the song’s meaning to me has grown and evolved, but I can still remember the whole family watching the bittersweet song on the television. Du Plessis made his own translation of the song – “The neon rainbow” – but I could not find it. So, I made my own translation. It is posted below the Afrikaans text, along with a video where the song is sung by Du Plessis.

Sprokie vir ‘n stadskind

                                                – Koos du Plessis

As die reën van stof en roet verby is,

en die rook verdwyn,

 sal daar in die sterrelose hemel,

’n neonboog verskyn.

En kyk maar goed,

want as jy hom vind,

vertel ek vir jou ’n sprokie, my kind,

van ’n skatkis met ou kettings gebind

aan die neonboog se punt.

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,

 oor kranse van beton.

As jy aanhou stap vir tienduisend ure,

 sal jy dalk daar kom.

Maar hier moet jy jou nimmer laat bind,

want so lui die ou, ou sprokie, my kind,

as jy geluk en vrede wil vind,

soek die neonboog se punt.

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,

kyk nie eenmaal om,

dalk vind jy die land

van blou saffiere

en, dalk, ’n brokkie son.

Fairy tale for a city child

When the rain of dust and soot has passed,

and the smoke disappears,

a neon rainbow will appear

in the starless sky.

And look well,

for if you find it

I’ll tell you a fairy tale, my child,

of a treasure chest bound with old chains

to the end of the neon rainbow.

Follow it every night across black rivers,

over cliffs of concrete.

If you keep on walking

for ten thousand hours

you may get there.

But here you must not let yourself be bound,

for so runs the old, old fairy tale, my child,

if you want to find happiness and peace;

find the end of the neon rainbow.

Follow it every night across black rivers,

do not look around once.

Maybe you’ll find the country

of blue sapphires

and, maybe, a small piece of the sun. 

Have a wonderful weekend!
A Agrai tellarias or s’agrélar silássa.

Worldbuilding Wednesday: The Wíslic and the Elders

Last week I had a look at the Houses of the Keepers of Airthai. This week I’ll tackle part of the hierarchy of the Keepers: the Wíslic and the Elders. The Keepers started on the eastern coast of the Continent, in the lands of the Saerímavolk; and it is with them that today’s post gets under way.

The Wíslic and Elders of the Saerímavolk

Because most of the men of the Saerímavolk towns would leave the land each day for the sea, one of the women of the town would be chosen to act as the leader of the town. She was well-skilled in various kinds of knowledge; including the laws of her people and the ways of healing. Called the Wíslic, she would see to it that the town is run well, disputes are settled and trading is fair.

Various others – usually older than forty – would be chosen to help her in her work and provide schooling for the children of the town. These people were called the Elders and consisted of both men and women. Because the men were ‘married to the sea’ they were mostly called upon in these matters, while the women handled the land disputes and matters. Some even referred to them as ‘Sea Elders’ and ‘Land Elders’.

The most gifted of the girls were tutored further and then, of these young women, seven were chosen. Later one of the seven would be chosen as Wíslic by the people of the town. Although the daughter of a Wíslic may also become a Wíslic, this was not a strict tradition and had to be earned.

The Wíslic and the Elders of the Keepers

The hierarchy of the Keepers worked in much the same way as that of the Saerímavolk, as the Keepers were modeled on this hierarchy when it was started.  The Wíslic of a House, however, could also be a man. The Wíslic was chosen from among the Healers and the Scholars most of the time.

The Elders of the Keepers were chosen because of their level of knowledge or skill. Although most were older in years, some had been given the rank at a young age. One of the most notable Elders was the scholar and scribe Nëane, a Ciph from Ellanda.  He was sixteen years old when he joined the Keepers and only twenty-one years old when made an Elder.

Ameragh was also very young and was made Wíslic of the House of Eamidtheo before her thirtieth birthday; making her the youngest Wíslic of a House of Keepers. 

"Ameragh was the youngest Wislic of a House of Keepers"

A short note about spring-cleaning

How do you like my new ‘blog look’? With Spring in the air (well, in the southern hemisphere), I decided that it was time for a new look. Then I found this lovely background at The Graphics Fairy and I thought it’s a good time to get into the new season even though Spring Day is only next week. 

A while ago I decided to post a blog post every day of the work week. Although fun to do, it has proved very difficult to keep up and have me blogging more than working on my WIPs, and my studies (very important at the moment and costing quite a bit every year). Also, I believe that I have almost lost focus of what I had set out to do – write stories. Therefore, I have decided to focus on three posts every week. These will focus primarily on fantasy and speculative fiction, worldbuilding and inspiration. Worldbuilding Wednesdays will remain, as will Fiction Mondays, including not only my own work, but also other snippets of writing advice, mythology or writers I find interesting. Ageless Words on Friday will also remain and be branched out to form Inspirational Friday.

Thanks for the patience while I find my feet in this digital world! 

Here be dragons...

Here is another, quite simple map of the Southern Lands of Airthai, showing the lands of the Seafolk and their neighbours (drawn by yours truly). The Dragon Guardians are part of the Seafolk and live at the aptly named Dragon Cliffs. This is where "A Dragon's Freedom" starts...

Map of the west of the Southern Lands 

Ageless Words Friday: “Gebed” by Koos du Plessis

Although this week’s “Ageless Words” are only a few decades old; I do believe these lyrics to be “ageless”. It is written in Afrikaans by one of my favourite songwriters; Koos du Plessis. Born on 10 May 1945 as Jacobus Johannes du Plessis, Koos started writing songs during his tertiary studies. Some of his best known and loved songs are “Kinders van die wind” (“Children of the wind”) and “Sprokie vir ’n stadskind” (translated as “The neon rainbow” by Koos himself). He also wrote one of my favourite Christmas songs, “Somerkersfees” (“Summer Christmas”)  This week, however, I bring you “Gebed” (“Prayer”) – one of my favourite songs. The English translation[1] can be found below the Afrikaans lyrics, as well as a recording of the song.

Koos du Plessis (1945-1984)

Gebed

Laat my nooit die grond verlaat nie.
Laat my in U skadu bly.
Gee dat elke aardse vreugde en vrees,
eindelik nietig word vir my.
Elke afdraai paadjie ken ek.
Elke keer het ek verdwaal.
Elke keer het u my iewers kom haal.
Maak dit Heer, die laaste maal.
Elke dag is ’n gedagte.
Elke kamer net gehuur.
Elke aardse droom van rykdom en roem,
net ’n skadu teen die muur.
Wat ek is, is net genade.
Wat ek het, is net geleen.
Eindelik smag ek na U waters van rus.
Lei my, Heer, vanaand daarheen.

Prayer

Let me never leave the ground.

Let me stay in Your shadow.

Grant that every earthly joy and fear

at last become insignificant to me.

All the branching paths I know.

Every time I lost my way.

Every time You came to collect me somewhere.

Make it, Lord, the last time.

Every day is a thought.

Every room only let.

Every earthly dream of wealth and fame

but a shadow on the wall.

What I am is only mercy.

What I have is only borrowed.

At last I yearn for Your waters of rest.

Lead me, Lord, there tonight.

[1] This translation was done by me. 

Reads and Links: Book Arts (Part 1)

Do you think every traditional – i.e. ‘dead tree’ book – is just a plain old block of paper with a cover?  Think again! The book arts are alive and well! And they have their own e-journal (which is free to download and read), making the world of bookbinding and book arts accessible to everyone with the right website address…

I give you The Bonefolder.

During the next couple of weeks I hope to showcase some of the best the book arts have to offer – small presses, handmade books and the people behind them. They show me just how out of the box a book can be and gives me a chance to re-think the creative spark behind a few random ideas… You don’t need a lot of words to tell a whole story.

Cover of The Bonefolder, Volume 2, Number 1

Some other links and reads:

One of the very good things about digitizing old or out-of-print books is that you can read it without hunting across the world for a copy too expensive to buy or simply find out if it’s to your liking before you buy the book. For instance, here you can read GK Chesterton’s works. 

Worldbuilding Wednesday - The Keepers: Their Beginning and Their Houses

The start of the Keepers was during the time of the Great Sundering, when there was a consensus that the knowledge of the peoples of Airthai must be kept in a safe place during the wars, attacks, earthquakes and floods across the lands of Airthai. At that time the greater libraries on the eastern coast of the newly formed Continent gathered together all the copies of books and annals and even artworks that they could. The people who gathered these books were called the Gatherers of the Keepers of Knowledge. Books and scholars even came from the Eastern Isles, brought on the trading ships for safe keeping.

When the Saerímavolk was attacked by the Flotaferan - which saw part of the Saerímavolk trek inland and form the Eargestreon - it was decided that a type of army should be formed from the surrounding peoples; who could be called upon immediately to keep their people safe. With them there would be scholars well-versed in the politics and the history of the peoples involved who could act as diplomats.

A fortress was built just north of the Saerímavolk lands and this was the first House of the Keepers. These Keepers later became known as the Eastern Keepers once other Houses were built.

The second House that was built was that of Holt Haliern, in the Midlands. The third and fourth houses, which were built nearly simultaneously, were the Houses of Théotriewe and Eamidtheo. These three Houses are all in the Midlands. Although the names of Holt Haliern and Théotriewe have stayed the same, that of Eamidtheo changed to Ameragh after the Lady Wíslic Ameragh's death. Because of this, and his great sorrow, Síldu did not return to this most southern House of the Keepers for many years, but stayed at Holt Haliern and Théotriewe.

In the Southern Lands, first the towers of the Khallahna and later the Khalné's Tower, along with the libraries of the countries of the Southern Lands, served as the repositories of the books and knowledge. Only after the Dragon Keepers had left the southern shores was a true House of Keepers, known as the Southern Keepers, started in the Southern Lands.

In the Western Lands, the first House of Keepers built was the House of the Rún; situated on the west of the Ealdbergs. A second was built on the western coast of the Continent. In the Northern Lands only one House was built; known as the House of the White Dragon.

The Sign of the Keepers of Holt Haliern

Next week: The Keepers: The Wíslic and the Elders (And I’m hoping to have the pre-Sundering map finished by then as well.)

What would have been, what will be, and mythology links

Well, I wanted to do a post about marginalia, but it soon grew from one post to a bunch of posts. Which leaves me with rather starting the posts next week; when they have been spat upon, polished and furnished with links and pictures. But, in keeping with Rambling Tuesdays, I can say that I’ve just about finished a couple of flash pieces to be sent out and have some outlines and notes jotted in note books and on my phone. But I am also spending a lot of time on the ever-present studies as I’m rambling on towards the end of a chapter, which I am trying to finish this week.

Odin and Sleipnir

Seeing as I’m wading knee-deep in Norse myths, here’s a couple of links for online perusal of many fascinating mythologies:

•          Old Norse News
•          Germanic Mythology
•         Mythologies of the World
•          Folklore and Mythology Electronic Texts
•        Ancient World Cultures

Enjoy!

Fiction Monday: Eldarion Whargahn

Eldarion watched his brothers disappear into the trees before he turned his back on the Rëaghor Forest. At the crossroads before him there were two choices for any traveller: travel through the forest or travel around it. Deep ruts led north and south, following the road most often used. But on this road, grass and weeds were matted where people had passed fled into the forest. The forest and its surrounds had been the Erewhar's home for almost as long as their tales remembered. He glanced behind him, checking that the last few stragglers of the Whargahn clan had disappeared into the shadows of the forest; each carrying only a small bundle of possessions. They had no time to wait for a cripple. He clenched and unclenched his hand around the green hilt of his short sword. At least he could hold the Khalvér back for a while and give his people a chance to escape a taint to their souls.

The moon showed only half her face, but the light was enough to see by for the Erewhar. He glanced at the four stars that pointed south to where his people had come from so many generations before; before they had betrayed the Ahma on that fateful day – the choice that had led to their fall. He heard the figures approaching before he took his eyes from the stars. For a moment he wondered if the Erewhar would remember him.

Cursed vermin. Did they truly still think that the Erewhar would join them in serving the ever-cursed Lewjan? The Erewhar may have fallen once, but would never again stoop to that level. His people would be redeemed. He rested his eyes on the dark figures and felt the power of the Talent being awakened deep inside him.  

"Stay where you are!" he called to the figures, not expecting them to stop, but hoping that they would step into the road now that they know they had been spotted. Three of the figures did just that. He couldn't make out their faces, but knew the golden sigil they wore upon their breasts. There was no doubt about their identity – Khalvér; and Servants of the Shadow. For all he knew Alzer, the boy they had sent as messenger, lay dead on his way to the Khalné. Would the Khalné arrive in time even if they had received the message? He drew his sword a couple of inches from its sheath and said a prayer for the redemption of all their souls.

One of the Khalvér lifted his hand, but it was neither in greeting, nor in warning. Eldarion felt the air around him thicken and press against his chest, leaving his breathing laboured. He drew strength from somewhere inside himself. The Other, the Elders called the source that the Erewhar was able to draw upon. Part of the Talent that the Khalné used, but it was different in many ways: more potent, but also more unpredictable, and addictive like the Talent was not – tainted somehow by deeds long past. He already felt the Lewjan’s shadow calling to him. He did not move, but pushed against the Khalvér's magic. His breathing became normal once more and he drew his sword fully. They laughed when he took two steps closer to them and they saw that he stumbled as he walked.

"Fight me fair," he said and his voice rang out across the grassy field. He fought off a second Khalvér that tried to bind him, lifting his arm to keep his balance. More shadows appeared in the tall grass. He would never be able to fight them all off and live. His heart beat faster still and cold sweat beaded on his brow. Perhaps he was not meant to live through this night. A strange glow showed in the palm of one of the Khalvér, proving that he summoned his power from the Shadow.

The Khalvér strode towards him. Towards the woods. Towards his people. He had to save his people, no matter what the cost. Eldarion flung out all the power inside him at the Khalvér, striking with his sword at the same time and receiving a pounding in return that sent him to his knees and crushed his fingers around the hilt. He cursed himself for letting them know the extent of his Talent so soon.

The leader of the band of Khalvér, a Werlea, stepped forward. He drew his own blue-black blade from the sheath at his hip. The intricately wrought blade seemed to glow with the blood it had drunk before. Tempered in Ahma's blood, the word went about these swords. And what was Erewhar but fallen Ahma? What was he? He felt his heart quail and the Talent dimmed. The Werlea’s voice was emotionless.

“There will be no peace for the Erewhar. No life. No redemption. You will join with us or die.”

Eldarion’s blade was forced to the ground and cleft into the sand. There were too many, and they were too strong. What was so much of the Lewjan’s magic against his tainted Talent? His heart sank, his breathing slowed, crushed from his body by the Khalvér.

He felt a faint pulse around him. He took a quick gulp of air before it was pushed away once more. Eldarion closed his eyes and concentrated on the faint pulse of Talent.

Fear only seems to lessen the Talent you’re given, he remembered being taught. He pushed once more with all the might he had, joining that faint pulse. Three of the Khalvér dropped to their knees. By their howling he knew they had been stilled and left to face the Shadow’s Lord without their dark magic.

A Werlea stepped up to him. Intricate tattooed patterns partially hid the burst veins and discolouration around his eyes. From his belt he drew a short, twisted blade. The Servant of the Shadow laughed at Eldarion as he tried to lift his sword. But as he struck with his blade at the young Erewhar's heart, the stroke glanced away and threw him off balance. Eldarion’s grip around his sword's hilt loosened, and pain flooded his arm as feeling returned.

Eldarion glanced around, feeling the pulse of Talent grow stronger. Then he saw the figures in their light cloaks. The Khalné had arrived. There was a chance for redemption still. The Erewhar were saved. He was saved. 

Photo by Thomas Schaeffer

Ageless Words Friday: The Song of Wandering Aengus

This poem is copied from the book The Poets’ Company (1951[1]), containing English poems selected by E.W. Parker. It is a small red volume, bound in cloth and with a faded name written on the side of the pages in pencil. I picked it up at a local library sale (where I’m known as the ‘girl looking for old books’) and found some of the pages filled with class notes and some doodles which were probably done during a not-so-interesting class.

One of the poets included in the volume is William Butler Yeats; represented by four poems including “The Song of Wandering Aengus”. Below is the poem and the poem set to music, performed by Nóirín ní Riain (and the free – and legal – mp3 can be downloaded here[2]).

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And some one called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

"I went out to the hazel wood..."

---

[1] First published 1939.

[2] With thanks to Marc Gunn and his wonderful Celtic mp3 Magazine.

Worldbuilding Wednesday – The Four Stars, The Sign of the Keepers

In the previous Worldbuilding Wednesday, I referred to the four stars which not only show direction in Airthai, but is also used in the symbol the Keepers wear. These ‘four stars’ are also mentioned in the short piece about Eldarion Wharghan and the Erewhar:

The moon showed only half her face, but the light was enough to see by for the Erewhar. He glanced at the four stars that pointed south to where his people had come from so many generations before; before they had betrayed the Ahma on that fateful day – a choice that had led to their fall.

I’ll admit that I’m not very good at spotting or pointing out all the constellations of the southern sky (of Earth…), but the two which I’m at least able to spot without charts or making myself dizzy is Orion and the Southern Cross (I live in a city as well, so there aren’t that many stars visible to spot). The Southern Cross[1] has always held a special meaning to me; probably also because it is mentioned many times in local literature and music.

The Southern Cross

When I first wrote the piece about Eldarion it slipped in and I thought it worked; so why not? By extrapolating the possible different meanings I could give to these stars – working with the number 4 as well – I thought that it would make the perfect ‘static’ symbol for the Keepers. Where every house has a colour, letter or other mark to show rank and house, they needed a symbol common to all of the houses.

Sketch of the Keepers' Symbol

This sign is made up of a four-pointed star; made by linking the four stars in the constellation. In the case of the symbol of Holt Haliern’s Keepers, two h’s are added to a green star.  Not just pretty, but also practical when it comes to embroidering the symbol on a cloak or another piece of clothing.

In next week’s Worldbuilding Wednesday: The Keepers of Airthai

---

[1] I’m only able to see four of the five stars with the naked eye (without squinting a lot)… and this is another world. So there can be only four stars. And four already has many other meaning attributed to it, making it a much easier choice!