The Map

I paged through my fantasy writing book, ready to leap into world creation. Armed only with office supplies and internet tips, I began: scissors formed an abstract first continent, then tore it into tinier pieces, which my fickle fingers moved around and around on a page. When they looked suitable, I traced them lightly with a pencil, rounding off corners and wearing away coastlines. Having practiced the formation of mountains and other landforms, I sprinkled them around the landscape in a way that made sense with the tectonic plates. I found the perfect name for each place, with help from a trusty Latin dictionary. My draft was complete.

God's fingers carefully shaped the continents, placing them lightly on the globe, careful not to brush off the mountain range that would one day give sanctuary to a whole city, or to make a chasm so deep and so firey that no race could live near it. He released the winds and currents to explore his newest creation. He already knew the adventures that would play out on its surface, and the whole history about to unfold. 

Next I spread out my Mother's colored pencils on my floor, almost a hundred of them. I sorted them by number, getting to know the colors, the variations, the feel of them. Then I began. Hours of carefully shading a mountain here, a millhouse there. The gradient of the seas came gradually, by shading more than ten hues of blue into the large white holes. I learned to color trees, I learned how many shades of orange there are, and I learned patience.

Then God released the colors. He sent the firey shades into the southern lands, sequestering them deep into the chasm, and packing the Igneous Ridge so full that it would spew hot red and neon orange for years to come. He took the skies and stirred in the green of the earth for the turquoise of the ocean. 

I titled each place, first with pencil, then with ink, carefully detailing the font and the location. As I recorded the towns, I imagined what they looked like, what races they held. 

God let go, letting the lesser spirits take control as his new world fell into its comfortable orbit. Oh, and the humans. Heaven help the humans. He watched them name every single river, every town, every cave, every bridge just as he had foreseen. He loved watching them create, seeing a parallel to his own joy. He hated watching them destroy, but he could already see the beautiful wonders that would spring up to replace those torn down. 

It was done, certainly, ready to be pressed away carefully. But that's not what maps are for. So I rolled it up and stuck it in my messenger bag, carrying it to school one day. I unrolled it on my desk, smiling uncontrollably, although my friends didn't even understand what I was showing them. And once our puppy stole it, carrying it off in her damp but gentle mouth. It was finally complete- no longer perfect, but worn in.

The explorers of the ages searched his planet and recorded it, each map a little better than the last. They wrote down every detail, knowing the folklore and mystery of each location. Sailors and buccaneers used nautical maps, generals and merchants sketched detailed land maps, apprentice mages slaved over maps of magical fields. 

So, having shown you all a brief glimpse earlier, I decided to scan my map and present it to you. 

This particular map was made around 1320 years after the great wars and destruction. It was made in Hylund and carried all the way south to Upton, suffering only a little on the journey, and is kept in the King's Councilroom, where it can be consulted when need be and remain secure when unneeded.