Lost Lands of Witch World (4 page)

The blurb for this book wavers between fantasy and science fiction:

“I am one of three, three who once became one when there was need: Kyllan the warrior, Kemoc the seer-warlock, Kaththea the witch. So my mother had named us at our single birthing; so we were.” Thus opens the final saga of Andre Norton's already classic WITCH WORLD novels.
SORCERESS OF THE WITCH WORLD
is the dramatic and fabulous novel of Kaththea, sister-witch-protectress, daughter of an Earthman and an Estcarp Wise Woman. Kaththea's destiny had yet to be resolved, and in her efforts to regain her knowledge of the forbidden sciences of that strange world we are drawn into a series of adventures which put a fitting and breathtaking climax to this series. It is a full-length novel, complete in itself, of fantastic adventures among strange races and on alien worlds, of high magic and low, and of wizardry and super-science.

Once again, the publisher seemed afraid to name this book for what it was—pure fantasy. And although the blurb would seem to indicate that this sixth book meant the end of the series, this was far from the case. There were many more books to come, thirty-five in all thus far, although they were to appear under the imprints of no less than five different publishers. This series has a life of its own, and Andre Norton created a world with the depth and breadth in it to play host to myriad tales.

Furthermore, this series has exerted an influence far out of proportion to the books' modest size. In an age when contracts routinely call for works of not less than 120,000 words, and when books of double and even triple that length are printed every month, these 60,000-word gems are the treasured prizes of many a collection. Not only are first printings, yellowing and often falling to pieces, lovingly encased in acid-free plastic envelopes and stored carefully upright in boxes and bookcases all over the country, but the words inside those covers resonate with readers every day. Not just readers, either—I can't think of any fantasy writer of my acquaintance who
doesn't
list Andre Norton's Witch World series as one of his or her primal influences. Her peers acknowledged that when she was presented with a Nebula Grand Master Award in 1984. She also has received
the Grand Master of Fantasy award in 1977 at the World Science Fiction Convention, the Balrog Fantasy Award for Lifetime Achievement in 1979, the Fritz Leiber Award
and
the E. E. Smith (Skylark) Award in 1983, the Jules Verne Award in 1984, The Howard (World Fantasy) Award in 1987, the SF Bookclub Award for Best Book of the Year in 1991, and in 1998 another World Fantasy award, this time for Lifetime Achievement. These are in addition to so many other awards that it would take an entire page to list them all. In a time when books seem to be considered important only when they hit bestseller status on the
New York Times
list, and little attention is paid to volumes that aren't issued first in hardcover printing numbers of 250,000, this level of acclaim may seem unlikely. Nevertheless, I can assure you that nearly every SF and fantasy professional acknowledges these books as seminal.

The only exceptions to this may be those who have come to the genre considering themselves to be “mainstream” authors who are only using the fantasy genre as a vehicle for their own particular messages.

And this is their loss. Andre Norton long ago perfected the art of embedding theme and message in pure story, never sacrificing the tale for the sake of making a point. In Heinlein's words, she was
not
one of those who “sold their birthright for a pot of message.” And in giving us amazing stories, she serves as an ongoing inspiration for more than one generation of fantasy writers.

It was certainly true for me, and in more ways than just one. Not only was I enthralled and inspired by the books, I was given inspiration by the author. The Witch World books proved several things to me.

The first was that fantasy was just as valid a genre as science fiction. This seems like a nonissue in 2003, when fantasy titles outnumber science fiction titles three to one. From the 1963 perspective, it appeared that science fiction was the king, that it was getting more and more technically oriented with every passing year, and that soon one would have to have a Ph.D. in physics to be able to write books that publishers and the public would accept. In 1965 it seemed that while one might not have to have a Ph.D. in physics, the way of the future was in literary science fiction, for which I was ill suited. But there were the Witch World books, doing well, prospering—giving me hope that what I liked might also be what other people would like.

The second was that heroines were as important and as valid as heroes. Again, this seems obvious now—it wasn't then, when publishers were convinced that only boys read these books, and that boys would revolt in droves if girls were anything but props for the heroes.

The third was that you didn't have to be male to write science fiction books. Andre Norton was the first author in the genre who I
knew
was female. Yes, there were others, and plenty of them—C. L. Moore, Leigh Brackett, Marion Zimmer Bradley—but Andre was the first whom
I was aware of
. To me, that meant that I, too, could write science fiction and fantasy.

Last of all, you didn't have to be an Oxford don or some sophisticated creature from Greenwich Village to write a fantasy series. In fact, you could be a perfectly ordinary American female librarian living in Cleveland, Ohio, and write amazing books.

So not only were the heroines of Andre Norton's Witch World books accessible to a young teenaged girl living in Indiana, not only were they women she could identify with, but the
author
was someone she could hope to emulate. She wasn't a Leigh Brackett, living in Hollywood and writing movie scripts for the likes of John Wayne. She wasn't J.R.R. Tolkien, professor at far-off Oxford; she was someone just like people I knew—and yet she wrote these amazing stories. And if she could, maybe so could I.

And there are countless others who have thought the same, and have gone and done it. That is what makes these books so special, and why they hold a revered place in the hearts of plenty of writers—and with the publication of this compilation, probably will continue to do so for decades to come.

These books are definitely masterpieces of their kind—keeping in mind that a
masterpiece
is not the culmination of a career, but a work from the hand of a master of the craft. The characters are real and seem alive in a way that should serve as an example to other writers who have expended a lot more energy and word-count but have failed to achieve the same level of creativity. The books are the sort that readers go back to time and time again, long after other books have been sent to Goodwill or the used-book store. They serve as testaments to the right to be different, and as such have given comfort to thousands of teenagers over the past four decades. They celebrated ethnicity—Andre's heroes and heroines have been Navaho, Sioux, Chinese, Japanese, African, Apache, and races with green and blue skin color, even in the time before the Civil Rights movement. They celebrate intelligence and courage. They are groundbreaking because they not only paved the way for fantasy to be accepted in its own right, but they also paved the way for other women to be accepted in the field. I think it is safe to say that not only did the Witch World books inspire and influence (particularly female) writers who have themselves often paid tribute to that fact, but had it not been for Andre Norton and the Witch World books, writers like J. K. Rowling would have had a much tougher job in getting
their
books in print.

The Witch World books still speak to me at fifty-three as eloquently as they spoke to me at thirteen; rereading my first editions was a joy. I believe that these books will do the same for you. Enjoy.

Mercedes Lackey

 

 

 

I
am no song-smith to forge a blade of chant to send men roaring into battle, as the bards of the Sulcar ships do when those sea-serpents nose into enemy ports. Nor can I use words with care as men carve out stones for the building of a strong, years-standing keep wall, that those generations following may wonder at their industry and skill. Yet when a man passes through great times, or faces action such as few dream on, there awakes within him the desire to set down, even limpingly, his part in those acts so that those who come after him to warm his high seat, lift his sword, light the fire on his hearth, may better understand what he and his fellows wrought that they might do these same things after the passing of time.

Thus do I write out the truth of the Three against Estcarp, and what chanced when they ventured to break a spell which had lain more than a thousand years on the Old Race, to darken minds and blot out the past. Three of us in the beginning, only three, Kyllan, Kemoc, and Kaththea. We were not fully of the Old Race, and in that lay both our sorrow and our salvation. From the hours of our birth we were set apart, for we were the House of Tregarth.

Our mother was the Lady Jaelithe who had been a Woman of Power, one of the Witches, able to summon, send and use forces beyond common reckoning. But it was also true that, contrary to all former knowledge, though she lay with our father, the Lord Warder Simon, and brought forth us three in a single birth, yet she lost not that gift which cannot be measured by sight nor touch.

And, though the Council never returned to her her Jewel, forfeited at the hour of her marriage, yet they were also forced to admit that she was still a Witch, though not one of their fellowship.

And he who was our father was also not to be measured by any of the age-old laws and customs. For he was out of another age and time, entering into Estcarp by one of the Gates. In his world he had been a warrior, one giving orders to be obeyed by other men. But he fell into a trap of ill fortune, and those who were his enemies sniffed at his heels in such numbers that he could not stand and meet them blade to blade. Thus he was hunted until he found the Gate and came into Estcarp, and so also into the war against the Kolder.

But by him and my mother there came also the end of Kolder. And the House of Tregarth thereafter had no little honor. For Simon and the Lady Jaelithe went up against the Kolder in their own secret place, and closed
their
Gate through
which the scourge had come upon us. And of this there has already been sung many songs.

But though the Kolder evil was gone, the stain lingered and Estcarp continued to gasp for life as her enemies, ringing her about, nibbled eternally at her tattered borders. This was a twilight world, for which would come no morning, and we were born into the dusk of life.

Our triple birth was without precedent among the Old Race. When our mother was brought to bed on the last day of the dying year, she sang warrior spells, determined that that one who would enter into life would be a fighter such as was needed in this dark hour. Thus came I, crying as if already all the sorrows of a dim and forbidding future shadowed me.