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 MANDALABAND
- EL OJO DE WENDOR (1977)
Voces principales - Eric Stewart, Maddy
Prior, Graham Gouldman, Justin Hayward, Kevin Godley, Paul
Young
Voces de respaldo - Friday Brown,
Fiona Parker, Lol Creme, David Rohl, Martin Lawrence, Kim
Turner, Ian Wilson, Steve Broomhead
David Rohl - Pianos, piano Vox,
sintetizadores, clarinete, efectos de sonido
John Lees - Guitarras
eléctricas
Steve Broomhead - Guitarra
acústica y eléctrica
Jimmy McDonnell - Guitarra
Bajo - Les Holroyd, Pete Glennon, Noel
Redding, Alf Tramontin
Woolly Wolstenholme -
Melotrones, sintetizadores, Cornetas Moog
Kim Turner - Batería, Rototoms,
Glockenspiel, campanas tubulares, tímpanos, congas, Tam-Tam
Kim Turner - Batería, Rototoms,
Glockenspiel, Vibes, congas, castañetas, percusión
Trompetas - Andy Wardaugh, Mark
Gilbanks
Trombones - Andy Crompton, Mike
Carlton, Dave Gorton
Cuerdas - Hallé Orchestra
Coro - The Gerald Brown Singers
otros
Historia en Inglés
The Carthilians journeyed on through the
Angor Pass and out
into the open grasslands of Meandamoor, keeping the Heights
of Andulis in sight to the East. A settlement was founded in
the abandoned mining city of the dwarves at the foot of the
mountains and renamed Thol Geldor. Some 20,000 of the 70,000
strong travellers remained there to rebuild and inhabit the
city under the governorship of Roderick Vernhelm, a senior
member of the council, whilst the remainder went on further
south with the King. After a week they were far from the
friends they had left behind, still in search of a suitable
site for the new city.
Little Délon, wrapped in a coarse woollen blanket to protect
him from the rain, rode behind his father, the stone
clutched to his chest as it had been for most of the time
during the long trek. Suddenly he left out a cry and fell to
the ground. Aenord and Eleanor ran to his side but were too
late, for their son's lifeless body lay in the damp grass,
his tiny hands still holding the red gem. The stone was
glowing as it had done the boy had found it and Aenord could
see a strange symetrical pattern within its depths. He took
the stone from Délon's frozen grasp and to his horror the
mark of the pattern was burnt upon the boy, as some symbol
of death across his heart. In despair, the king threw the
stone to the ground and then Délon was wrapped in his
mother's cloak
whilst a grief-stricken crowd gathered round.
Amidst all the turmoil no-one noticed a tall slender figure
stoop down and silently slip the red gem under the folds of
his cloak. In a moment he had melted into the crowd and the
magic stone had a new master.
It was the custom of the people to lay the dead out in the
open air, so that in death their material being could serve
the needs of the wild animals and birds thus giving back to
nature what nature had given.
So Délon's body was taken to a solitary outcrop of rock,
standing alone away from the mountains to the east, and
there laid to rest upon a slab of stone near the summit.
As the King turned away in deep sadness, he looked across
the vale that separated him from the Heights. There in the
distance he saw a large low rise set in a great sweeping
curve of the mountain cliffs, down which a fresh water
stream flowed out into the vale below: here was the site for
the new capital city of the Carthilians. Thôl Aenord was
born out of the tragedy of a young boy's death and for many
years the events of that day saddened the hearts of Aenord
and his Queen.
After one year had passed, much had been done towards the
building of the city and as promised Nimrond and Queen
Zendelwyn came to spend a happy weekend with the Carthilians.
The gift they brought was magnificent indeed, for the elven
riders approached driving a pair of the purest white horses
towards the city gates. These were no ordinary steeds
however, for they had long flowing manes and beards, but
strangest of all were the powerful wings folded at their
sides. These wondrous flying beasts were called Equestra by
the elves and were made of their own magic, being hidden
until that day in the forests of Wendilianor and never
before seen by the eyes of men.
Giving a huge silver horn to Aenord, the Queen of the elves
spoke:
"Here is the sacred horn of the
Galadrim. If sounded the
Equestra will come to its call from the furthest corners of
the world. But use it wisely for only once may it be used.
When you are in need of their help they will be at hand, but
once they have answered the call they must return to the
elven kingdom, never to return to the aid of man again."
Nimrond then spoke saying that there was but one stipulation
in the giving of the gift. This was that the magic horses
must be tended by a pure virgin maiden, for being of unicorn
blood they were shy of man and would only respond to the
gentlest of beings.
So it was that Aenord promised his first born daughter to
the role of keeper of the Equestra and it was not many years
before Damien and Ursula were born to Aenord and Eleanor.
Thus Ursula became keeper of the Equestra, whose numbers
grew with each season, and they too were hedl in high esteem
by the Carthilians whose fortunes were blessed indeed by
such a gift.
It was at this time that Almar of Nacholis the great oracle
and soothsayer of Thôl Aenord came into prominence, for it
was he who had taken the stone into his possession on the
fateful day of Delon's death.
He had found that the red gem had great powers and that by
concentrating his thoughts into its depths he could see into
the future, past and present, anywhere he might choose in
the lands of Wendor. This gave him great knowledge and he
thus became Aenord's personal advisor in matters of
importance to the realm. When he felt that Aenord's grief
was healed over the loss of his son, Almar decided to tell
the King that he had the magic stone in his possession and
that the powers it possessed could be of greater value if
the stone were used by the King himself. With persuasion
Aenord was shown the stone's secrets and as he peered into
the symmetrical pattern set within, images began to form
before his very eyes.
Firstly he saw a beautiful and yet evil woman atop a
mountain struggle to hold the red gem in her hands as it
flew off into the heavens. All around, the earth shook and
the sky grey dark with torment as did happen the day of the
great tempest that destroyed Carthilias; could this have
been the cause of the destruction of the old capital? Aenord
was soon to find out, for the next image was that of his
son, Délon, gazing into his eyes. As he stooped to pick up
the stone from out of the ruins - the fascination held for
the little boy was that he could see the face of his own
father looking at him from the future within the stone.
Tears welled in Aenord's eyes as the image began to fade
leaving him with heavy heart, but before he had time to turn
away a third vision appeared, this time of the new city in
its completed glory. He could see behind the palace, a
mighty statue of himself, with the magic stone set in the
helm, it's light radiating down on the surrounding
countryside. Everywhere then was richness from the gem's
aura. Aenord now knew the future that awaited his people and
what he must do to fulfill the stone's prophecy. It was,
therefore, not long before work started on the sculpting of
the great statue from the cliff behind the palace and soon
the stone was set in place. Almost immediately the power of
its light grew in strength and the people felt a warmth of
contentment upon them and there was much happiness in the
city.
Within a few years Thôl Aenord grew in prosperity, the crops
and grain at harvest always being strong and rich as if by
magic. And so it was that the stone received the name of
'Eye of Wendor' and all in the lands prospered from its
bounties.
Almar took up the tale from Damien, for now the time had
come to tell of the history of the witch Queen.
The Witch Queen
Back beyond, in the times of the reign of
Cedric, Aenord's
father, there lived, hidden in a backwater suburb of
Carthilias, an alchemist whose lust for power had led him to
meddle with the black arts. He was in constant search for
new substances and trinkets to aid in his magic rituals, and
one of his journeys took him to the wastelands north of the
city where he came upon the red stone. It was lying at the
centre of a crater where it had rested since its journey
from another world and another time beyond our
understanding. Thus aided by the power from within the stone
his magic grew stronger and he became known as
Malcar the
Warlock meaning 'evil one,' being feared by all wherever he
journeyed. In spite of all his power over the people through
fear, he desired far greater things. For he wished to be the
greatest of wizards, lord of all magic beings. This was not
to be however, as long as Talleron, the mightiest wizard of
the age, was alive to challenge his right to this supreme
position. Thus came into being the great battles of the
wizards famous in the folklore of the land. Often are tales
told of the great thunderbolts and flashers that lit the
night skies over the region of Rondahl in the southlands as
Malcar attempted to destroy Talleron in his rock fortress of
Lhordivad, that stood impregnable in the waters off the
coastline.
Nothing that Malcar could muster proved sufficient to defeat
his rival until, one day, he came upon a spell of great
power to transform his familiar, a black cat he had named
Silesandre, into the form of a witch. It was thus through
the combined powers of his accomplice and himself that he
had thought to destroy Talleron once and for all. But, being
so powerful a spell, it was difficult to brew, for it
required the blood from the heart of a pure virgin white
witch. So it was that he sought the flavour, in the disguise
of a courtier, of the beautiful princess
Rossalynd of
Rhondis, who was indeed a white witch. By magic he caused
her to fall in love with him on first seeing and so he
persuaded her to ride with him beneath the trees of
Waldow
Wood. And when they were deep within that wood he offered
her wine from his flask, contained in which there was a
sleeping draught and it was not long before she collapsed
into his arms. Malcar then returned to his real form and
carried her to a clearing where he had prepared an altar.
Thus the young white witch was sacrificed to the lord of
evil, the Warlock's ultimate master and her blood was used
to perform the spell that transformed Silesandre from cat to
witch.
But Malcar was soon undone, for his witch was created for
evil and she desired her own power and not to serve that of
her master. And so when the Warlock turned his back upon
her, she took the very dagger that had spilt the blood of
Rossalynd and thrust it deep into him, murdering her own
creator. The black witch knew that the Warlock's power could
be gained by the taking of his blood and so she drank her
fill. Then Silesandre took to the Northern skies upon the
back of the great flying beast that Malcar had also created,
carrying the magic stone off with her, to find a place where
she might build a stronghold.
But as she flew high above the crater from whence the stone
had come so many years before, it fell from her hand and
settled on the apex of the mountain at the centre of the
crater. It was the black witch that Aenord had seen within
the stone as she stood on that mountain trying to regain her
precious trophy. The stone did not wish to dwell in the evil
power of the witch, and it was the violence of its struggle
to escape her clutches that caused the earthquake which
destroyed the ancient city. Since that day Silesandre had
indeed grown in power and evil, in spite of losing the
stone. For she had enrolled the aid of the dark creatures
and beings of the Northern mountains in her plan to conquer
the lands of Wendor. With her army of servants she now
raided many of the towns and settlements in the Northern
region, carrying off livestock and slaves to build great
fortresses and battlements around her kingdom of of Silesia.
Still yet she needed one more thing before she felt powerful
enough to win a great war against the stronger nations of
Wendor, and that was the magic stone. Almar then explained
to Florian that it was the servants of the Witch Queen that
had come upon their flying steed to regain the Eye of Wendor
for her.
Deep into that night the city council debated on reports of
the Witch Queen's growing armies and the ominous future that
lay ahead. Florian's thoughts began to drift slowly into the
stories he had so intently listened to, and soon the voices
of the dignitaries faded from around him and the young boy
fell into deep sleep.
The Funeral of the King
Florian awoke to find himself
back in his room in the palace, the sound of the morning
bell ringing in his ears. He soon realized that the bell's
toll was slow and melancholy and that other bells in the
city were ringing out in answer. He rushed to Brant who was
standing on the balcony looking sadly out over the city, and
as he turned Florian knew something was amiss. He looked out
across the city and saw windows from the highest to the
lowest levels bedecked in black and solemn banners, and then
he knew that the old King had died during the night.
Aenord's body was taken to the
necropolis on Mount Solistra,
where Délon had been laid to rest, and behind his funeral
cortége were great numbers of mourners stretching down the
slopes of the mountain, meandering across the plain below
and through the city gates. All that day they filed past the
body and many tears fell to the ground beside the dead King
as he lay at rest. The greatest of Carthilian rulers had
died at a time when his people needed him most. The stone
that had given them prosperity under his rule had been gone
for eighteen years and the future looked very grim. But at
least he had live to see the face of the boy of whom so much
was prophesied. The saviour of his people had been found and
the stone might yet be returned to the city.
Two full weeks elapsed between the old King's funeral and
the coronation of Damien, for many of the monarchs and
dignitaries from other parts of Wendor had to travel great
distances to attend the celebrations. In the meantime the
people of the city had many things to attend to. For a while
their apathy and depression was gone and they set about
cleaning the decaying houses and streets. For the first time
in over fifteen years Thôl Aenord began to look and feel
like the great capital city that was remembered of old.
Florian busied himself helping
hand the flags and banners until the final day when all was
ready. The guests had been arriving for a week and only the
parties of Nimrond and Zendelwyn, and Dorlingas, King of the
Dwarves, were still expected. And on that final day the
lookouts cried out from the city walls, for on the horizon
to the West appeared a great entourage flanked on either
side by soldiers marching to the rhythm of beating drums: it
was King Dorlingas. At
almost the same moment from the gateway came another cry and
there along the road that led from the Great Lake came
Nimrond and his Queen riding on great white unicorns
followed by hundreds of elven folk singing and dancing as
they went along.
The celebrations of Damien's coronation were not to be
forgotten for many a year. The feasting and dancing
continued long into the night and all was forgotten of the
troubles that lay ahead. Soon however, life had to return to
normal, for the shadow of gloom from the Northern wastes of
Silesia still threathened all the nations of Wendor that
stood together for the banishment of evil. It was to this
end also, that the rulers of the Kingdoms of Wendor had made
their journeys to Thôl Aenord. For now was the time to make
their plans to defeat Silesandre and free the lands of her
tyranny. The prophecy was fulfilled at last and much now
rested in the hands of the one chosen for the task as
Florian was soon to find out.
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