by Meg Cowley
That day, the men busied themselves as much as they could gathering firewood, food and herbs. Hador set one man to watch for anyone approaching their camp and to monitor the scene below them. It was mid afternoon when the watchman’s cry brought everyone running. Moans of horror tore from their throats at the terrible sight. Murmurs broke out amongst them and frantic prayers were uttered.
The perimeter wall was intact, but they could see a huge battering ram beginning to attempt to break the main gate and a block of archers peppering the outbuildings with fire arrows. Wooden sheds and small thatched buildings here and there caught alight. Although the day was still with a light breeze, the recent dry weather meant that the wood and thatch was well aflame in minutes.
Men as small as ants from this great height, could be seen scurrying around within the monastery grounds, attempting to douse the fires and any other flammable materials within reach of the fire arrows. A line of longbow men strung out within the grounds, as the boom of the battering ram ascended to Soren and the monks.
The horrific sight captivated. They continued to watch, aghast, as fires spread and ranks of monks awaited the inevitable, until early evening when the crash of the battering ram ceased. Zaki’s soldiers swarmed through the broken gate, as monks rushed forwards in formation to meet them.
The fighting was confusing from this great height; no crests or banners could be seen, just a maelstrom of flashing armour accompanied by the faint sounds of battle. Fires here and there cast sickly orange glows across the grounds, as the fighting moved further into the compound. Each of the few hundred monks must have been outnumbered several to one at the very least. So vastly were they out manned, that not even the greatest skill could save them.
Soren could not imagine how twisted his uncle’s mind must be to order such a horrific attack on a religious centre and he thought with revulsion of the thousands of soldiers who were now mindlessly serving Zaki, carrying out his orders with not a thought for their own morals. He questioned right and wrong, wondering if such soldiers could be good men at heart, yet his own sense of morality was so strong that he could not see how anyone could carry out such a vile act, even if they were ordered to do so. It unnerved him to see such a great force intent on desecration.
As the red sun sank in the sky, Hador moved the men away. “We must rest,” he ordered half-heartedly. He set two men on the first watch and with everyone else retreated into the cave.
It was a long and lonely night through which no one rested, each too consumed by anxiety and fervent, muttered prayer to sleep. Just before dawn, Hador admitted there was no point trying to rest through that night, allowing them all to rise and watch the glowing embers of the buildings they had lived in, still stubbornly alight in places. They could still hear clashing and the deep rumble of falling masonry.
At last, Hador stirred. The sky was turning from deepest blue to bloody red at the horizon. “We are to return at once,” Hador said. They all realised that very little would remain when they returned, and in their heart of hearts, they knew the fight was lost. “Prepare the horses.”
~
Scenes of destruction met Soren’s eyes that afternoon. The sounds of battle had faded a few hours before and Zaki’s forces had left, although Hador had insisted that they scout the perimeter before venturing inside, to check if any soldiers had remained behind. The area was clear – but so was the horizon behind the walls.
As they entered the grounds through the gate in the still intact and untouched north wall, the monastery had been almost wholly razed to the ground. Debris piled higher than the haphazard half walls that remained here and and not one tower stood amongst mountains of broken and charred rock.
Shattered glass and lead panes littered the ground and the smell of burning and death was on the air as they approached where the fighting had been heaviest. The dead lay twisted and still on the ground, framed by blood.
The seven men reached what should have been the main door, and fell still. The amount of carnage was incomprehensible to them. They stood, unable to speak. It was clear there should be no survivors.
“Right, men!” Hador’s hoarse voice startled them all. He ordered them to search for survivors, leaving Soren, himself, and one other, Orman, to trawl through the wreckage about them.
The others did as they were bidden and rode to the four corners of the grounds, whilst Hador applied himself with Orman and Soren to search the messy wrecks of once proud buildings. It was grim and tiring work, but not without reward, for soon Soren found a man who still had a weak pulse.
They excavated him and Hador gently lifted his head to trickle some water down his throat from the flask proffered by Soren. The man moaned as they laid him on a square of grass – the remains of a courtyard. Hador ordered Orman to tend to the injured man.
Over the course of the afternoon, they found dozens of survivors clinging on to life. The task before them was daunting; they had a few hours to recover the living and offer them medical attention, sustenance and shelter before nightfall. Hador worked like a man possessed. He tasked four monks and Soren with bringing all the survivors to the same space of grass where the first man still lay, now bandaged and asleep under Orman’s watchful eyes.
One well remained unspoiled and Orman was able to draw up sufficient water from it to wash any wounds, which he then bandaged with cloth strips ripped from anything he could find. Hador worked with the horses to pull aside a particular pile of rubble, for reasons that Soren did not at all understand until the monk had finished. In the middle of the cracked flagstones, he had exposed laid a heavy slab set with a large metal ring.
Once more, he lashed ropes to the horses, tied the other end to the ring and urged them on. Slowly but surely the slab inched up until they were able to drag it away to expose a gaping hole in the ground, where stairs could be seen fading into inky blackness. Drooping with fatigue, Hador stopped the horses with a quick word and sunk into the hole. Soon after, a warm glow came from within and minutes later, he came bounding up the stairs, new life in his step contrasting the deep hollows beneath his eyes.
“The cellars are intact!” he said jubilantly. “What’s more, our brothers have saved the library and many of our greatest sacred items. They are all stored down there in the older rooms. Most importantly for now, they will shelter us during the night – there are tables and benches we can use for beds and the cold stores and larders are brimming with food and medicines!”
Hador leapt down into the hole to return moments later with a stretcher. Whilst the others continued working, Hador and Soren ferried injured men into the cellar vaults. When it became clear that there were no more survivors left, the other monks joined them.
Whilst one sat by the trapdoor on watch, the others created temporary beds on any surface they could find, made poultices, fetched water and provided drinks and food for any of their injured comrades who were conscious. In total, they had recovered forty-seven men from the grounds, but to their despair, the abbot could not be found.
~
Dusk was almost upon them when a cry from above froze them all. Hador and Soren rushed upstairs to see two silhouetted figures on horseback approaching, one oddly large and distorted. He felt mild relief that it was two people and not Zaki’s soldiers returning. With a sudden jolt, Soren realised it could be Edmund.
He shouted and waved to the figures and one raised a hand in return, yet they did not speed their horses up from a slow walk. A sense of foreboding crept over him as he waited for them to approach. At his side, Hador’s pallor was ashen.
The riders emerged through the low light, and the bulky figure became clearer. It was indeed Edmund, but there seemed to be something on the back of his horse – brown rags and then a flash of pale skin – Soren realised with horror it was a body. He dreaded to think who it was. He had an inkling that he hoped was wrong.
Hador dropped to his knees and bowed to the ground with tears erupting from his eyes as Soren watched Edmund and an unfa
miliar monk dismount and reverently lower the limp form of the abbot to the ground.
Eve
Feeling deliciously clean, Eve prepared herself with care. That evening she sat at the top table on Artora’s left hand. It felt good to be washed and dressed well after the previous days and she grimaced at the memory of the state of her riding clothes. She was dressed in a simple though elegant long-sleeved, green dress, embroidered in gold. However seated beside Artora, she felt eclipsed by the queen’s effortless beauty and powerful presence.
A few others joined them, although the seat to Artora’s right stood empty. Eve wondered who sat there but dared not ask. Luke and Nyle were seated near the far end of the room, though Eve felt secretly glad to not have to talk to them at all let alone all evening.
“Tonight we welcome special guests.” Artora stood up to announce. “To Lady Eve of Arlyn, and her escorts, welcome.” Eve smiled self-consciously, as Artora picked up her delicate glass, raised it into the air and drank a sip from it.
Everyone rose as one to copy her; Eve, Luke and Nyle scrambled to join them. Pale golden liquid flowed hotly down Eve’s throat with an invigorating sensation.
“Oh!” she remarked in surprise.
Artora chuckled. “We make that ourselves, and rather strongly I must admit. It is rather heady to an unfamiliar tongue!”
The meal was served and Eve tucked in with gusto to a variety of meats and vegetables, savouring the rich and varied tastes and textures, which made the best of meals after dry and tasteless travelling foods.
Artora was a skillful host and enquired about her travels and her home, yet Eve was half-hearted in her involvement; she felt out of place and still undecided about what to do.
“You’re not enjoying this fully are you?” Artora murmured to her.
“I’m sorry! The food is lovely, everything is lovely,” stammered Eve. “But...”
“I understand, dear cousin.” Artora smiled. “I gave you much to think about today, and then even more besides. It is no wonder you are distracted. However, I could teach you a great many things to help you if you wish. Will you accompany me tomorrow morning? I shall instruct you on the art of magic and the history of the Eldarkind?”
Eve hesitated, so Artora persuasively continued.
“I understand some of the human perceptions of magic, Eve. It is not an evil thing, although it can be used for evil. It can also be used, as it is by us, as a great force of good. To have the skill of magic makes you neither a better nor worse person, until you choose how to use it. Do not be swayed by the perceptions of others, but choose yourself,” she cautioned. “I will send someone for you tomorrow morning.”
Conversation turned once more to lighter things, as those present sought the attention of the new arrivals, until the meal had run its course and was done. Artora dismissed the guests and led Eve, Luke and Nyle back to their quarters. Eve’s head swum from the strong drinks and the whirlwind of introductions and conversations.
“Luke, Nyle, it is a pleasure to welcome you to Ednor,” Artora said as they strolled down the corridors.
“Your Majesty,” acknowledged Nyle.
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” murmured Luke.
The queen smiled.
“I apologise for not welcoming you both earlier. It is quite rare to have humans visit us here, so your presence is somewhat a novelty. However, I shall be unable to host you personally. I have business to tend to with the Lady Eve until she departs. Meanwhile, I grant you the freedom of Ednor. Do what you wish; we have many beautiful things to see and experience.”
“Your Majesty,” said Nyle, puzzled. “We have neither money nor the ability to speak in your tongue.”
“I shall send an escort with you wherever you roam to act as a translator. Your expenses may be charged to my household.”
Luke thanked her, his eyes wide.
Nyle bowed his head.
Eve perceived his frown, though she did not remark upon it.
The queen left them near their chambers and with a quick “good night,” Eve slipped into her own and locked the door for the night, as Luke turned to speak to her. Nyle strode into his own room, leaving Luke dithering in the corridor.
He knocked on the door.
Her voice called from within. “Who is it?”
“Luke. May we talk?” he asked, when she did not reply.
She paused – so long he probably thought her to be ignoring him – but the metal lock clicked open as she held the door ajar, peering out from behind it whilst she waited for him to speak. She had already unpinned her hair and it tumbled roughly over her shoulders.
“You looked beautiful tonight my lady,” he addressed her formally.
She coloured, unsure how to respond. “Thank you.” She hid behind a curtain of hair.
Luke cleared his throat. “How long are we to stay in Ednor?”
“I can’t answer,” Eve said. “There’s much to be done.”
Luke waited for her to expand upon her words. It was not forthcoming. “I see.” He filled the silence. “Well, in that case it’s late, so I’ll bid you good night.” He smiled at her.
“Good night,” she replied and hastily shut and bolted the door. That was odd, she thought to herself, but it was late and she felt too tired to think at all. Soon she was asleep as Ednor fell silent around her.
~
The following day, Eve sat once more in Artora’s office. She had been given fresh clothes; a simple white shift with a blue kirtle, whilst Artora was once more clothed in pants and a shirt to Eve’s admiration. She would have preferred similar attire, but the alternative was her stinking riding gear, which in any case had disappeared from her room the previous night.
“Thank you for joining me,” said Artora, who rose to greet her. “I see no point in wasting time, as we are both unsure as to how long you will remain here. Firstly then, I shall tell you the history of the Eldarkind.” She rested her forearms upon the back of her chair as she gazed over Eve’s head.
“The world was created millions of years ago, although we do not know how it came to be. I know you humans have your deities; we on the other hand, prefer to speculate,” Artora began.
“Upon the earth lived the elementals. There were many; fire and water, light and dark, air and earth, peace and war, love and hate, life and death all came together and thus the world was born. But, it was empty and barren. The elementals of fire put their warmth into the rocks so it would live and the elementals of water clothed its surface in waters so it would be nourished. The elementals of the earth put down soil so that things could grow and the elementals of air wrapped it all in sky so that the planet could breathe. Light and dark came together to create a daily dance of sun and moon and spun the world around the sun to give it the changing seasons. Yet the world was still empty and barren.
“And so the elementals fashioned living beings to inhabit the world. The water was lonely, and so of the water they created all the sea life, to swim through its depths and please it. The earth was silent, and so they filled it with plants so that it could resonate with their growth and life. The elementals combined all of their skills to make each of the species that inhabit the world in the air, on the earth, and in the water. However, each elemental wanted their special part to be represented best of all in the world and so they did not stop.
“Fire secretly created the dragons and gave his powers to them; they were fearsome gigantic creatures who could breathe and control fire. Water created leviathans of the deep, so large they could consume any ship that sails the seas today and she gave them the freedom of the oceans. Air created the greatest of the giant birds who could truly explore her skies with their wings and Earth made the insects and creatures that could burrow though his soil better than any other beings.
“Peace, War, Love and Hate, being of lesser power and substance than their counterparts, came together to make the human race who would share all their passions and, because of their gifts, it
was this species that they made more intelligent than the others. The humans multiplied, learned to talk, trade, coexist and build societies. They worshipped the elementals that faded quickly in their short generations to myths rather than realities as they retreated from knowledge.
“Their love and hate was expressed in peace, but also in war. It was clear that the planet would not survive under their dominion and the elementals despaired. And so it was agreed that Death would bestow his powers upon all life to limit man’s dominion, or the rise and dominion of any other race subsequently. The elementals had given life to all the creatures across the entire world; Death gave them mortality so that their lives would be finite and in this he sacrificed himself utterly.
“The world became more balanced. Although the race of man still had the uppermost hand of all creatures, creatures coexisted after that in harmony.” Artora shifted. Her gaze flicked to Eve, who listened, entranced.
“And so the elementals diminished,” she continued, “to whence we know not. However, to be sure of the world’s future in their absence, for they did not want it to fail after so much of their efforts, they came together in their decline once more to create a single race that could guard over all. In this race, they poured all of their honed skills.
“They made it a fair race with lives near immortal – for death could no longer take them into the void as easily as he once had done – and magic flowing through their veins so that they had the power to care for the world. In this race, the elementals instilled goodness so that they would never be tempted to ruin the world with their powers. It was thus that the Eldarkind came to be; it is said in the image of the elementals and using their language. We cared for the world and its creatures and kept the balance between all things as we still do now.” At this, Eve’s mouth fell open.
“It has been tens of thousands of years now and our powers have slowly declined since the pact we made with the dragons thousands of years ago. We are no longer immortal as we once were. There is a sickness in the world growing with time that even we cannot heal and our long lives wane and our powers fade as they drain to try to remedy it. Our kind has dwindled to a former shadow of what it once was.
