I was drawn into the latest fantasy tale of the land
of Skorn. Not unlike today, we see that the land has been
steadily growing more desertified and desperate populations
are on the move. THE DRY WELL in a temple would have warned
city dwellers that the aquifer had been drained, but the
terrified priests of the harsh god worshipped in Sen-Mar
have been secretly filling the well by night. They are
hoping the god will send them rain, but if he doesn't?
Into this desiccated land walks Saranna, whom we met in The
SHADOW OF THE TREES. Herself the daughter of a goddess,
she has no magical powers that we can see, and she is
looking for the son she lost many years ago. She comes
across as a gentle and wise woman, accepting that in this
Bronze Age type culture, women do not come to power as
often as men. She needs water, food and shelter, just as
much as the next weary traveller.
A nomadic band which used to cross arid regions to reliable
water sources, trading and prospering as they went, finds
the ultimate dread has occurred. The desert has spread, the
oasis has died. Only the stumps of palm trees remain. All
they can do is keep moving in the hope that they will fare
better at the next spot. Unlike the city dwellers they
revere the wisdom of women, especially when it comes to
natural matters. However, the panicked city folks are
fleeing the stone walls which now act as a death trap for a
large population. Thrown in jail, unhappy priest Raenn will
be left to die if he doesn't find a way to escape.
I knew from my prior visit to Skorn that these accounts of
an alternate world do not feature the usual stirring deeds
and magic swords. Instead this is a sobering account of how
it must feel to be in a situation bigger than your family,
your city or your whole civilisation. The ending of
everything the people have held true is so staggering that
chaos reigns and might becomes right. Even if individuals
survive, they have to find a way to reconcile natural
forces, gods and climate. Sue Bridgwater has created an
absorbing and vivid story. I read it over a few evenings
and always looked forward to returning to THE DRY WELL. As
the saying goes, you don't miss the water until the well
runs dry. We can all learn from this tale, which I
recommend for adults or mature young adults.
THE DRY WELL is the continuing story of Saranna's
wanderings
over the lands of Akent. After the emotional reunion with
her brother Drewin that closed Shadows of the trees,
Saranna
travels on to the City of Sen-Mar in the hot southern land
of IssKor. She is now searching for her son, Raenn,
believed
to be living in Sen-Mar under the name of Tel-Kor.
She moves into the home of Tamnet, younger sister of
Kor-Sen, whom Saranna had known in Drelk and on Telan. She
soon learns that the regime in IssKor, always repressive
and
cruel, is growing steadily harsher, and that the land is
believed to be under a curse. According to the Priests the
God Jaren, always a harsh figure, has withdrawn himself
from
his people. The already desert land is becoming drier and
drier. In fearful response to this, the priestly caste that
dominates the city has become more repressive and punitive
than ever.
Saranna's personal plan of seeking out her son is overtaken
by events in Sen-Mar. Her son and the High priest of the
Temple, Mal-Den, are taken prisoner by the rebel Priest
Callis, and a reign of terror begins. There is widespread
panic as people try to escape from the city.
The people of IssKor do not know that Saranna is herself of
Immortal descent - a child of Iranor, and half-sister to
Jaren. She resolves to go out into the desert lands with a
small group of companions, to seek the God and turn him
away
from his anger. Unfortunately the travellers are ill
equipped for their journey. When they are overtaken by a
sandstorm, one of their number is killed. At length they
fall in with the nomadic people who live in the desert
regions. Saranna's twin daughters are born in the tents of
the nomads.
From them she learns that Jaren is imprisoned by one of the
ancient forces of the land, the earth-Goddess Naetsan, who
is older than the immortals and jealous of their power.
Saranna accidentally frees Jaren. This leads to a
resurgence
of his power, but also of Naetsan's anger. A great battle
follows, during which another of Saranna's companions is
killed.
Eventually the battle ends in the reconciliation of the two
forces, bringing new life and hope to IssKor. Saranna is
forced to understand that this cosmic resolution is only
partly to her credit, as her precipitate actions and hasty
decisions have led to two deaths, and her influence upon
her
brother Jaren has been negligible.
Saranna's diminished party returns to the city, where a new
age of freedom is dawning and the repressive priestly
regime
has been destroyed. Sheis reconciled with her son, and
settles in Sen-Mar.
Excerpt
Ferocious light and sharp shadows divided up the streets
and squares of Sen-Mar. Where the brightness of noon
struck down, there was little to be seen, even in the great
market. Lounging in the shade cast by walls and awnings,
trees and market-stalls, the people were still and sleepy,
dozing and dreaming through the hottest time of the day.
Down a narrow alleyway came a scuffle of movement, a
flicker of darkness crossing the patches of light from one
shadow to the next. A cat flashed suspicious eyes at a
little ragged boy sneaking by, a grubby child from the
Southgate slithering along the walls.
‘Shhh, puss – shhh! Don’t go giving me away!’ The cat
blinked twice, nodded off again, and the child moved on to
the mouth of the alleyway, paused and peered with care
around the corner; before him opened a wider thoroughfare,
lined with elegant booths and stalls. Moving softly as
starlight, the boy edged his way along between the stalls
and little open shop fronts, where the shopkeepers nodded
in the shade. At last he reached a stall piled high with
luscious fruits and vegetables. How do these rich folk eat
all this lot? Slowly, slowly, he edged near, darting his
gaze this way and that. With one dirty hand he held open
his threadbare tunic, while the other went spidering along
the heaps of booty; pineapple, plum, peach and pear;
cucumber...
‘Oi! Dirty little varmint! Come out of that!’ The boy
ran, not stopping to see where the voice had come from.
Behind him the cries of the servant who had spotted him
from an upper window roused the street. Soon men and boys
were pursuing him in a ragged rush of whooping and
shouting. Clinging desperately to his spoils, the boy
dodged around corners and into doorways and out again and
on and on until at last the screams of his pursuers grew
fainter behind him. Staggering and panting in the heat, he
rounded another corner - and ran straight into a pair of
legs coming the other way, legs draped in heavy silky
material that spelt rich. With a cry, the boy turned to
run again, but tripped and fell, crushing a good portion of
his fruit beneath him. To his own disgust and annoyance,
he began to cry.
‘Now, now, we cannot have this. Come, cheer up, child.
Here are some of your peaches and pears, and your cucumber,
hardly bruised. I will help you to gather them.’ The
small thief saw a pair of bright and twinkling eyes, set
above a broad smile. Dragging a sleeve across his nose,
Ar-Nen smiled cautiously back; but before he could speak,
there came abruptly to his ears the sound of the hue and
cry he had just escaped; terror filled his face. ‘Quick!’
hissed his new friend, scooping up the scattered fruit into
his cloak, ‘follow me.’ He seized the petrified boy's hand
and ran, dragging him around three corners, up a flight of
steps, under an arch and past a startled group of people
just emerging from a doorway. As the fugitives scurried
around another corner, their pursuers came into sight, all
yelling, ‘Stop, stop, thieves, villains!’ The bystanders
joined in, shouting, ‘That way, they went round that way,’
and the swollen river of people flowed after the two.
I can’t run any more, I can’t, I can’t! The boy’s hand
slipped out of the man’s grasp; he tumbled onto his knees
and fell flat. His unexpected ally skidded to a halt,
losing his grip on the fruit and vegetables, and came back
just as the sound of the angry mob came to them again.
‘I’ll carry you.’ He stooped, grasped the boy hastily by
one arm and one leg, and swung him up off the cobbles and
across his shoulders. Glancing around, he set off towards
a doorway a short way along the street, and ducked into it.
Between the ornate carving of the portal, and the heavy
wooden door that led into the house, a niche gave some hope
of shelter. The young man pulled the boy down into the
shadows, dragged off his dark cloak, and draped it over the
two of them. They huddled motionless, trying to quieten
their rasping breath and thudding heartbeats. Outside in
the street, the pack of hunters had stopped running and
fallen silent. Then came:
‘Well, they bin this way for sure – look at my good fruit
squashed on the cobbles!’
‘Where they got to then?’
‘No good asking me, I can’t see no better than you!’
Oh Jaren’s teeth, they going to find us, what’ll I do?
What’s this Northgater playing at anyway? Help!
‘I’m going on this way – you coming?’
‘Not likely – time to open up again; you won’t catch the
brat now.’
A scuffle of sandals followed. The hidden pair held still,
breathing quietly. After counting softly to a hundred, the
man slipped out from under the cloak and risked a glance
into the street.
‘They are gone.’ He sat down again beside the boy. ‘You'll
be safe now. I will see you to your home. What is your
name, young one?’
‘They call me Ar-Nen. Who are you?’
‘Ah; well, by your leave, I must reserve my name to myself
for now. But when I was no bigger than you, some called me
Raðenn.’
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