by Dan Gillis
‘My eyes must be …’ Tey’ur mused to himself. Shien was scratching his head in similar bafflement. Something within Tey’ur sensed the sincerity of that simple act, and he watched in begrudging respect as Zyr tended to friend and foe alike. Each time, the reaction was the same, an outpouring of compassion to the enemy, to a stranger. Tey’ur was not sure how to deal with the situation before him. His feelings of hate were being slowly doused with every prayer the monk offered in behalf of the fallen.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Shien reported suddenly. “The man has little regard for himself. He always puts others first. I couldn’t believe my eyes when he raised those Gnarel, the other night, especially after using so much energy to put down that horrid demon. It left him completely drained, to the point of death. Yet, there he goes … unbelievable. I wonder what drives him to do it?”
Tey’ur took the information in without a response. So the Gnarel mystery was solved in a fashion that would never have entered his lucid mind. The answer would have eluded him for a millennia, if he lived that long. The cursed upstart … Zyr, the agitator, who merited punishment at the edge of his blade (never mind the hand) so many times; and always escaping. And yet, what was transpiring was undeniable and validated the young man’s musings.
“Lord Tey’ur.” A female voice called out behind the two men. Shien had turned to see the young girl walking closer.
Firah had appeared over the low rise and walked with a small limp, her arm was held across her shoulder as if in pain. Her eyes were fixed on the guild lord while Tey’ur looked on in curiosity. The girl barely registered the young man next to him. She limped slowly closer until stopping in front of the tired warrior.
“We’ll be moving on this morning. We thank you for your hospitality.” She spoke, her face set firm with a certain annoyance. He chuckled inside and regarded the sky whimsically. She reminded him of Morellyn. The girl was equally as headstrong as his now departed Mihyl. She would need to be. He looked at her with a guarded air of curiosity. The old Lord had wondered what had transpired the previous night, when the battle was long and at it fiercest. It seemed he would never know as he could detain the group no longer. Honour dictated such things. Still, there was unfinished business.
He stood slowly, muscles aching and sore. He looked down into her determined visage. “Please, be our guests for a short time longer.” He watched as her face fell and she took in a deep breath. He caught her with an upraised hand before she could unstop a hurricane of wrath. “Hold. I know your feelings. I do not intend to delay you any longer. My business is with your monk friend.” He pointed vaguely in Zyr’s direction. “He has been busy since third watch. When he is ready, I will only need a few minutes.” Firah’s expression softened and she turned to look at the monk as he worked in the distance.
“Alright, I guess,” she replied curtly. She turned slightly with a cool gaze toward the waiting young man. The wind blew blonde locks across his face, his grey eyes meeting her fiery gaze. “You turned your back on us … and now you are changing your mind?” she queried chillingly. He took a moment before responding. Tey’ur turned and began walking through the host of the dead. He heard the response before the wind carried the words into nothingness.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Zyr watched the tall and rigid old warrior approaching. The monk sat upon the ground with weary, blood stained arms resting in his lap. The timing was strange. Zyr never dreamed that he would encounter the old Master, not in this setting. It was strange because of their proximity to the Halls. He knew Tey’ur’s feelings well, dark thoughts full of hate and disgust. More importantly, Zyr felt every last baleful thought was deserved. What he had done in the past was in the past; yet he could not escape the consequences of his actions. That was part of his life now, reaping the seeds sown in youth.
His reminiscing brought her image searing across his mind like a burning brand. Memory recalled the softness of her lips; the sensation was still lingering like the hidden coal amongst the ashes of a diminished fire. He wanted to pull himself from the fresh memory, but he could not. He would deny his feelings no longer, the time for secrets was past. Zyr opened his hands and stared down upon the course skin. He had lived inside a lie for so long, pretending to be someone else, training his very soul to encase his heart within a cold chest.
He looked upward to see the old warrior draw closer; Tey’ur’s lined face was set in grim determination. Whatever the cost, Zyr would not run from his past or his heart anymore. He dropped his gaze to his hands once again, they were scored and flecked with dry blood, the marks of the Alacritor’s duty.
He felt the power emanating from the presence before him, standing there in quiet rage. It was many minutes before either moved or spoke.
“Why did you revive the Gnarel?” the deep voice whispered low.
“They are under Mother’s watch as much as you or I. There is nothing so evil in them that cannot corrupt common people as well,” the younger replied. Silence carried along the cool wind which caressed the robes and tabards of the still figures.
“I assume you feel the mercenaries deserved the same?” Zyr nodded his head without looking up. He could see the clenched fists in his peripheral vision. The war still raged within, decades old. Slowly, Tey’ur raised a hand and rubbed his right temple softly in silence. After a moment, the Blade Master of the broken Order spoke.
“I cannot easily disregard the past. You know how deep old scars run. I cannot easily change a heart that has burned in hatred for so long … yet my soul would burn ever brighter in Llian’s gaze if I were to strike you down now. Sadly, it seems that I have receded over the years while you have grown. I will say but one thing to you. I understand what the Council affirmed. Yes … I believe now, after all these years, their wisdom and judgment shines the truth through a clouded mind.” Zyr’s brow dripped sweat casually upon the ground. He had been ready to fall; he would never have dared guard himself. It was the duty owed to the past. The prospect of death was something he had come to terms with, and it was necessary to accept his weakness to find the peace he sought for. In the past he had scoffed and loathed the old warrior; now as a mender and restorer of life he saw things differently. It was Mother below who had instilled such a dynamic change in his heart and mind. It had taken many years, but the youthful ideals had slid away, the layers of pride and ego stripped away with every healing and moment of servitude.
"We are in your debt," Zyr replied solemnly. It was a double meaning which he was sure was received. Tey'ur waved a gauntleted hand absently.
"That won't be necessary. What of this woman, Nuril? Does she intend to rejoin the conflict?"
"No. She acquired what she came for," Zyr chose his words carefully. By sharing too much he would risk revealing the nature of his work. The oaths he had sworn in Mother's service were guarded meticulously, and punished with severity. "It appears that their goal was to recover a cursed blade in Firah's possession. Her unguided attunement to the dagger thwarted her use to them. I suspect any further hostility would only deter their plans, until they are ready to move again. It seems my actions in Khyvla have not ended their schemes, only delayed them." Tey'ur's eyes narrowed slightly at the monk's words.
"Indeed. Though as usual you mask the full truth. The matter of this demon, Ahtol, cannot be countered by mere force of arms. I can see you have a reason to return home. Perhaps this is the wisdom finally affirming the choice of the Council?" His mouth shifted to a slight smile for the briefest moment. Then he made a quick nod toward the Halls. "Mind yourselves in there - it is likely more a forum for the fallen spirits than our treasured home."
Tey'ur turned to face the south and the sentinel phalanx of trees. He said nothing for many moments but maintained his gaze upon the dense forest wall. At last he spoke without turning, almost as if addressing another beyond their sight. "I had pushed you from my mind and swore to never return. I thought you were dead to me, and yet you draw me near again for a
hidden purpose." The warrior's head bowed as he placed the mailed glove gently to his brow. His steps fell soft upon the torn soil.
As he watched the last Blade Master of the Order’s Council walk away under the new bright dawn, Zyr pondered his last words. It was another mystery to solve. The past was weighed down in unanswered questions, and when he gained one answer two questions would follow. The Council … what was chosen?
Through all the clamour of his thoughts came a sudden clear and discernible impression that caught his breath. It was brilliant and profound and lifted the heaviness from his heart. His mind deciphered the feeling.
Your enemies have not guessed the Sapling's true purpose. I entrust her to your care. Bring her home.
The monk’s head slipped down while his fingertips touched together lightly, his mind slowly coalescing thoughts into unity. The sun rose slowly higher in the heavens.
Glossary
Aeredia: The commonly accepted name for the world.
Aerluin: A feminine being of immense power. She originated from outside of the world in the heavens and is now bound within the world. She is considered benevolent but not omniscient. She communicates in a variety of ways at times to people in Aeredia. Her power emanates from her indiscriminately and interacts with substances and creatures within the world in unique ways. Known also as the Dark Lady, Mother.
Ahtol: A being of immense power that exists within the core of Aeredia. Considered to be evil and malign and seeking to be free from the prison of the world. Ahtol’s physical form consists of viscous shadows that meld and flow like water.
Ashori and Ashori-tar: (Also known as Weavers) A living soul in Aeredia who has established a knowledge of and connection to Aerluin's power. Each of these souls can access a portion of this power. This portion or refraction typically has a certain flavour, such as the power to understand or heal living patterns or the power to manipulate one of the four elements. The soul rarely accesses more than a single refraction of power in his his or her lifetime. (See Root for specific detail.)
The ability to refine and shape the raw power is a life-long pursuit for an Ashori. Governments and Cadres use Ashori in various roles. These individuals are not common and are generally feared and respected throughout the land.
Ashori-tar are those who are untrained but have the capacity to interact with the Root in lesser degrees. They often adopt titles such as magi, sorcerer, alchemist, necromancer or witch if they actively utilize their limited potential.
Cadre: A group of people who bond together to form a political and military block. They have similar professions, talents, abilities, skills and ideologies. They can compete for the One Seat in each province of Kenhar. Apart from vying for political power, under Kenhar law they are expected to keep the peace and promote local laws that will bring order and stability to their region.
Character Symbology and Pronunciation:
= World
= Firah [Fē-rŭh]
= Zyr [Zēr]
= Tohm [Tōm]
= Shien [Shē-ĕn]
= Nuril [Nū-rĭl]
=Tey’ur [Tār]
Chota: Martial garment worn during practice and combat. It provides some protection and padding in vital areas while allowing for freedom of movement in flex areas around the shoulders and groin.
Deepstone (Bloodstone): Any rock, stone or precious element that has been altered through specific conditions and contact with the Root. Deepstone formations are rare. A connection between a Root sensitive and the Deepstone occurs when blood is transferred. Blood sharing is a form of attunement and can cause a specific effect to occur based upon the unique properties of the stone.
Dorgyn Circles: A gladiatorial game organized at Terlan in Jandor Province. This competition serves many purposes: a test of skills, sport for gambling, resolving political disputes, serving debts owed and others. The challenge is centered on an elaborate Darkwood structure which is comprised of several spinning rings at various elevations. Hazards and fatalities are commonplace in the competition.
Dryke: A migratory creature that is reptilian in nature. Migration patterns take the creatures through parts of Kenhar before leaving the country for many moon cycles. Drykes are generally considered to be non-sentient. One province in Kenhar is named after this creature for their constant presence and nesting grounds located there.
For-: Previous week, always accompanied by a day of the week. Example: For-Mena
Ge’: A combative weapon comprised of heavy weighted spheres of stone or metal. Each is linked by bands or straps of various material ranging from crude rope to metal links. The Ge’ is thrown in such a way as to grapple a target at the legs, neck or other parts. Its full length can vary as well as the style of throw.
Gnarel: A bestial nomadic race that moves through the lands of Kenhar. The Gnarel are honour driven and respect strength. They bear heavy hides with long manes. They walk as bipeds and can use simple technologies. The males bear horns (skull bone protrusions) of impressive size and variety. Gnarel tend to plunder as need dictates, but not for sport.
Jazyn: A non-sentient creature which is sensitive to the flows from Aerluin. Any manipulation of the Root can be detected like a scent which can dissipate over time. The Jazyn are rarely seen and guarded carefully due to their small population and slow reproduction. Most citizens have never seen one but are aware of them.
Jyril: Junior member of a Tetsu.
Kenhar: A country found in Aeredia. It is ruled by a king who shares power with ruling cadres who vie for power among their peers. The country is broken down into provinces where a local council represents the King’s authority in enforcing accepted laws. Local laws can be modified to suit the ruling cadre’s needs but cannot supersede basic laws enacted by the ruling king.
The capital province of Kenhar is Syrion. Other provinces include: Jandor, Mehnin, Leil, Dryke, Rhylos, Khayl, and Sym.
Khyvla: The capital and largest city in the province of Mehnin.
Kota: Protective martial gear worn on the hands.
Llian: A being of immense power that exists outside Aeredia, sometimes called the Heavenly One. She was charged with the care of the world along with her younger sister Aerluin. Together they kept a protective weave of power moving about the world, promoting its movement and stability. She grew careless and longed for other places and neglected her song of binding. The chaotic powers within Aeredia lashed out and pulled Aerluin into the world. Llian now dwells beyond the moon which circles Aeredia. Due to separation from the world, she can do little to impact the affairs and elements.
Lliankor: A curse first used to reference Llian’s wayward lapse and the accompanying frustration of the user.
Lunar Calendar: The measure of time is based upon an ancient Lunar calendar which is attuned to the seasons.
A cycle has 100 years. (Designated by ‘C’)
Each year has 4 seasons (Designated by Blackrill (Spring), Bloodstone (Summer), Darkwood (Autumn), Shadowveil (Winter))
Each season has 3 moons cycles (Designated by 1st, 2nd, 3rd)
Each moon cycle has 4 phases (Designated by New, Waxing, Full, Waning)
Each moon phase has 7 days (Luin, Teli, Tera, Celi, Mena, Solari, Llian)
An additional moon cycle between Blackrill and Bloodstone is called the Festive Moon Cycle.
The moon phases within the Festive Moon Cycle are Festive Moon Phases. Each is dedicated to the four enhanced elements:
Bloodstone Festival, Darkwood Festival, Blackrill Festival, Shadowveil Festival
This equates to a 364 day year. One day is added to the end of the Festive Cycle to moderate the seasonal discrepancy. This is usually designated a sacred and peaceful holiday through all the land. It is known as The Day of Unity. Aeredian scholars have noted that the moon does not fall out of phase from the extra day and attribute this to the Omnipotents who created the world.
Cycles are recorded and usually connected directly to the ruling monarchs and the dynasty that follows. T
he passage of time under each dynasty is recorded and kept for purpose of time passed upon the land; however, every new ruling dynasty resets the Cycle to '1'.
An example of a recorded date goes as such:
C6-51, 3rd Winter waxing Moon, Llian.
Hence C6-51 refers to the 51st year of the sixth century of the present dynasty’s rule. Winter (as with all the seasons) is broken into three moon cycles. The cycle is the complete change from a new moon waxing to full and waning back to new. In this example, the third Winter cycle moon is nearly full as Llian is the last day of the week. On the next day, it would be full and in the middle of moon cycle.
Mehnin: A province located in the Southern lands of Kenhar. The capital of Mehnin is Khyvla.
Menil-Bees: A particular breed of bee known for its unusual aggressiveness and protective instincts.
Mihyl: Senior member of a Tetsu
The Order of the Open Hand: The organization formed to train those attuned to Aerluin’s Root. The Order was comprised of strict rules of governance and discipline. The Order was broken and only ruins remain along with a handful of Ashori who survived the massacre.
Ranks within the Order: Servant-Initiate-Seeker-Convert-Master.
Pattern: The combination of all Aerluin’s threads throughout the world. The formation of the pattern is always changing and never static.
Racur: A fortress-mountain located in the southern-most region of Mehnin. It is self-sufficient and exists outside the rule of law in Kenhar. Invasions from Racur upon the lands of Kenhar and countries to the south are a common occurrence.
