03rd July 2008
Ode to Vo Wacune
Author's note -A short piece of writing loosely inspired by the work of David Eddings in which a beautiful sorceress, Polgara, lives in the fairytale city of Vo Wacune for three hundred years before it is destroyed in a civil war. The narrative of Eddings' books progresses far beyond this point and Vo Wacune is little more than a narrative device for things to come centuries in the future, but the sorrow felt by Polgara at the loss of the beautiful city is with her always, even as the memory of Vo Wacune fades for others. I suppose it's fan-fiction in a way but I prefer to look at the city and sorceress as being nameless. It was an idea that came to me randomly and to be honest the similarity didn't occur to me until I had begun to write it.
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Delicate spirals of marble twisted up towards the dark sky as the sorceress stared up at them, lost in the swirling memories that echoed through the empty streets and amongst the pillars and towers that pierced the night above. The voices of a thousand people once known drifted to her as she spun slowly, taking in the beauty of the long-forgotten city. The voices of friends, centuries old, whispered to her on the breeze, tales of long forgotten nights sat in secluded gardens as minstrels and fair men sang from outside the walls, songs no longer remembered in any mind but her own and with words as sweet as any honey from the lips of a lover.
The sorceress closed her eyes and sighed a sweet sigh, allowing the memories to wash over her as she slowly sank to the ancient stone floor of the destroyed city. No city was ever so fair as that in whose ruins she now sat, and none but her would ever know that those wonderful fairytales we hear, full of beautiful cities in far away lands, would ever hold the merest flame to the city on which they were all based. For although the city was long since destroyed in the wars of old, its beauty still lived on in the myths told around fires, the fairytales told to young ones, the songs of entertainers and in the mind of the solitary sorceress.
Even those who had not lived in the city would be hard pressed to not find beauty all around the ruins in which she now sat. Alone, her skirts fanned around her, the sorceress sat in the main courtyard, taking in all the breathtaking splendor of a city now washed away by the stately pace of time and inconsistency of human memory. The constant turning of years into decades and decades into centuries had slowly turned the war-torn city into a marble memorial to the thousands lost all those years ago, and the sorceress looked upon the sublime beauty around her with a nostalgic melancholy.
Behind her, the way she had entered, stood the huge marble archway that had once marked the entranceway into the most wonderful city in the world. Unlike the other ancient cities, here had been a peaceful city, ruled by democracy and with little concern as to the folly of the others outside of its marble walls. The once shining archway was now riddled with moss and great cracks which threatened to destroy its imposing stance over the city within. The marble walls on either side were crumbling slowly with age and the sorceress was not at all surprised to see that several of the long, intricately carved arches had caved in, all but destroying the wall in places.
Large oak trees, left unattended by the steadily marching centuries, had forced their roots outwards, buckling the beautiful marble paving that had covered most of the city floor, and forcing themselves out through the narrow gaps which had appeared, as if trying to break out of the marble tomb which had encased them whilst man roamed the streets. The fountain ahead of the sorceress stood dry and full of tall grasses and wildflowers that twisted around the figurine in the centre in an elaborate and choking dance between nature and man. The sorceress sighed. Nature, as was always the case when man inevitably destroyed that which he had taken from her, was reclaiming her territory. Within a few centuries the earth would have the city in a fierce embrace at her bosom and none of the grandeur that once was would remain.
The beautiful sorceress sighed a sigh that contained a thousand years of regret and sorrow, of loss and longing and of love and friendship that had not diminished in the centuries that had passed, any more than feelings may fade because somebody is out of sight for a while. She felt her shoulders begin to sag as the sorrow weighed down upon her and as she blinked, a solitary tear containing all her heartbreak rolled sedately down her ivory cheek, breaking into shining droplets as it splashed softly onto the back of her hand.
Lifting her chin the sorceress looked upon the ruined city and closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet air as she did so, a slow, sad smile spreading across her deceptively youthful face. The wind rose and danced amongst her dark hair, teasing her face with its gentle kisses and as she opened her eyes her smile became one of reserved happiness as she looked serenely upon the scene before her.
The marble statues and buildings gleamed as if under a bright summer sun, although the sky above remained inky and star-filled, and the fountain tinkled as water with a soft nimbus glow merrily sprung from the orifices to dance into the decorative pool beneath. Crumbling walls were once again whole, and people bustled through the newly built streets, all glowing the same soft colour as the water and buildings.
The sorceress smiled again and elegantly rose from her kneeling position in the courtyard to walk amongst her memories. Here and there she would see a familiar face, more detailed than the rest. Old friends with whom she had giggled away girlish evenings, a great Duke whom she had helped solve ancient problems, and the occasional lover whom she had cared for more deeply than others could comprehend. Each held a special place in her heart that would never diminish, no matter how many centuries crept between her and the years she spent here.
Musical calls filled her ears as faded images of children ran about her skirts, but their innocent cries were almost a whisper, diminished by the tenuous grasp her memories had of the many people she had come into contact with during her long time here. Yet occasionally a cry would reach her ear from one of those she remembered to this day with clarity few can ever achieve, and she would search eagerly through the crowds to find their face, listening with intent to the sound of their voice even whilst knowing that they could not see her, and she revelled in the warmth that filled her heart.
As she moved slowly amongst the reconstructed city the sorceress remembered many a long summer evening that she had spent here; eating chilled fruit and drinking soft wine to the sound of serenading lovers and the scent of honeysuckle. And when no lovers were available the nightingales would take their place, singing boldly their mysterious and melodic song as amongst the trees below the ladies sat, bathed in soft gowns and even softer moonlight, talking of their loves and ambitions, their sorrows and their joy.
The sorceress stood still, drinking in one last longing view of her beloved city before closing her eyes once more, and allowing the whispering wind to again run though her hair and mind, erasing the shadows from around her. Sadly she smiled as she opened her eyes and began to move, her heels echoing hollowly amongst the towering marble architecture as she made her way serenely over the broken paving stones to the huge archway and the world that lay beyond. A world that had continued its stately march through the ages with no concern of the ancient and ruined city that lay forgotten behind the marble arch.