The Legacy of Tirlannon: The Freedom Fighter

by Daniel Gelinske

  “The Madroceans have turned on us,” shouted the commander of the Vorkuta to the captain on the bridge, a pale white human with silver eyes and elongated fingers.

  “So we will have to destroy them,” the captain stated calmly.

  “With all due respect, the Taergeni are gaining in the north, and the Iantos is closing in on the south,” the commander exclaimed.

  “Hmm. Iantos. The Madroceans mean business. We will have to steer east to the western shore of the homeland, then. The nearest point of refuge is Point Bast, but if we reach the shore, our ground and air forces should provide ample cover,” the captain speculated.

  The ship rocked, and the glow orbs lighting the bridge, as well as every last light on the ship’s control panels died, as the vessel came to a dead stop.

  “Silence weaponry,” the captain wondered. “What fool gave the Madroceans that weapon?”

  “I do not know,” the commander stammered.

  “Rhetorical,” the captain spat.

  A deafening explosion filled the air from the aft end of the vessel.

  “What do the freachin have that could create a blast that big?” the commander cried.

  “Nothing that I am aware of,” the captain replied coolly.

  * * *

  The crew of the Caerthe Kriasti worked in tandem as Commodore Daende Linean directed the men to hold the ballistic harpoon over a pyre of glowing mistletoe. Slowly the great lance shimmered with an emerald green color.

  “Load the cannon,” Daende commanded.

  The elves swiftly loaded the harpoon cannon and turned the massive gear, tightening the spring that powered the weapon.

  Daende raised his arm and signaled.

  “Fire!” he shouted.

  A streak of green lightning barreled through the sky, impacting on the aft hull of the mighty Cirethian war cruiser. The ship buckled as its armor exploded.

  “Why aren’t they firing on us?” Ti’rran asked in astonishment.

  “Our Madrocean friends exploited a weakness,” Daende revealed with a smile.

  * * *

  “So, we are sinking. And with the silence attack, our escape speeders are useless. We are going to die now. Are you afraid?” the captain of the Vorkuta asked, in the thick blackness that only the flashes of fire outside of the observation windows pierced.

  “No escape?” the commander cried, betraying his terror.

  “None,” the captain affirmed coldly.

  “Then there is no—no s—sense in being afraid,” the commander stammered as he straightened his posture in false bravado.

  “Then I will have to relieve you of your fear,” the captain said.

  He pulled a pistol from his coat and shot the commander in the heart. He walked toward the observation window of the bridge as the commander’s body fell to the ground. Below him, the ship burned as it slowly drifted under, occasionally being rocked by additional cannon volleys from the Iantos.

  “Madrocea,” the captain sighed. “I admire their treachery. At least I took a life today. I can die at ease.”

  * * *

  The remainder of the Cirethian fleet had been given passage, escorted by the Iantos to the waters south of Point Bast. As they had no weapons, Commodore Linean decreed it would be without honor to continue attacking vessels that could not fight back.

  Reports came back a month later, revealing that the new regime in Cireth murdered the refugee soldiers.

  The war was over

  L.

  The Question of Xendros

  Along the journey back to Namakiera, Daecrynn kept glancing at Rayelle, who stood at head of the Taergeni forces who would return home, at the left of Tiardan. Nadali, at the right of Daecrynn, passed those same curious glances towards the Witch of Li'istrani, who trudged silently.

  Worn from the battle one week past, the armies of Tarligean were in no rush, despite the longing for home.

  "I haven't decided yet," Rayelle blurted out.

  Daecrynn and Nadali stopped, and turned to face Rayelle.

  "Decided what?" Daecrynn asked.

  "Xendros," Rayelle snapped. "It doesn't belong here. I have no idea where it belongs, but it doesn't belong here. I know that's what you're wondering of, it has to be."

  "No, actually. I was impressed by your work in the battle," Daecrynn remarked. "You knew exactly where we needed to be and when."

  "What?" Rayelle asked, "I was assisting the General of Tuitari with munitions. I have no idea what you are talking about."

  Tiardan nodded in confirmation.

  "Then who told us where to go and where to be? Who commanded our every move on the field," Daecrynn wondered.

  "Hmm. That couldn't be, she hasn't spoken since... and that was along time ago," Rayelle said lowly.

  "Who?" Daecrynn asked in reflex.

  "Terei—I mean—no. You couldn't have heard Terei speak," Rayelle rambled, gazing off distantly.

  "Who is Terei? I've heard Terei's wail, but who is Terei?" Daecrynn queried, his curiosity growing visibly.

  "You're not ready for the answer to that question," Rayelle said abruptly. "I must consider the consequence of your claim first."

  "Consequence? Do you insinuate that a son of Tu'fayator be too feebleminded for your secrets?" Daecrynn demanded.

  "Yes, a son of Tu'fayator. That makes sense," Rayelle mused, nodding to herself.

  "What in the unrelenting fires of Verduhn are you talking about?" Daecrynn shouted.

  "Terei is a spirit, and she lives in your sword. She last spoke to Tu'fayator by way of Xendros," Rayelle said lowly, her gaze turning from distant to livid. "But it wasn't Terei, as..."

  "Sounds like you really don't know," Daecrynn remarked.

  Rayelle glared in Daecrynn's direction. "Some equations take tens of thousands of years to solve. You cannot expect omniscience, even from those who work hardest in finding the answers," she explained slowly, a cold anger coloring her voice.

  "Well, you could have just said that you did not know," Nadali stated flatly, "I don't think we would hold that against you."

  "There is a danger in Xendros," Rayelle said lowly. "Perhaps it would be unwise to cast it away as of yet, but its place is not here."

  "I suggest we start moving again," Daecrynn proposed. "Namakiera is less than a day away, but that assumes motion."

  "Agreed," said Nadali.

  Rayelle nodded, and Tiardan signaled the troops to march. Shortly after sundown, they reached Namakiera.

  LI.

  A Union of Souls

  “When time ceases to be, our hearts shall remain one.”

  – The Rites of Bonding

  Daecrynn nervously paced across the floor of the King’s chamber in the palace of the Kestelan in Namakiera. He knew it was swiftly approaching the time when he would be escorted to an undisclosed location to be bound to his beloved in the rites of the Eloquandi. Within him a fountain of nervous joy bubbled in the center of his chest. He stared up at the crimson and clear crystalline mosaic that covered the domed ceiling, his thoughts racing as his eyes got lost in the patterns of refracted light.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Someone knocked upon the large wooden door to the King’s chamber.

  “Come,” Daecrynn ordered as his attentions focused back on the present.

  The door swung open. A woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes, wearing a sky blue silk gown and a crystal necklace stepped in through the doors.

  “The procession begins now, your majesty,” she said. “The coach to the sacred grove is ready, and your lady awaits you.”

  Daecrynn paused, as his eyes grew heavy in his sockets, tearing up.

  “Your majesty, are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yes Lady Kara,” he replied. “A little more all right than I am used to. Let’s go.”

  She spun around and strode down the darkened hallway of the palace, as Daecrynn followed. The only light in the hall came from the exit on the far end, leading out into the daylight, reflected of
f the shining polished marble of the floor. He followed her down the steps, with the salutes of the Kestiel’s Guard in his periphery, a blurring of moonsilver and reflected sunlight. He looked forward, fixated on the ornate walnut and mahogany coach drawn by two large stallions and covered with inlaid silver and gold patterns, and two small raised banners from the rear end of the coach, one with the knot and square pattern in silver over sea green, the banner of the House Tuvitor, and the other an eight-pointed star with bands of green, teal, white, and gold behind it, both flapping gently in the late Spring breeze. She opened the door to the coach as she approached, and pulled on the threshold of the coach to step in. Daecrynn jumped in with a spring in his step.

  “To the Grove of Aria’s Tears,” she said quietly through the curtain separating the passenger’s cabin from the driver’s.

  “As you wish, Lady Kara,” an understated tenor male voice responded.

  Daecrynn settled in his seat, and slid open a window to first upon the city of Namakiera in spring bloom, as petals from white flowers fluttered in the breeze and artisans crafted sculptures of birds and beasts to line the main street of the brand new, post-war Namakiera. Before long, the coach passed Mitheldia Gate and rolled down the Nali Road towards the fork to Tanathiel, occasionally stopping as teams of workers placed new road-stones into potholes and patched up cracks in the pavement that had seen very little maintenance since before the reign of Ariandi came to an end nine years past. Daecrynn stared outwards, towards the long emerald green grasses that grew wild along the sides of the road into the distance of the Taisladi plains. The coach turned onto the Taisladi Road that lead towards Tanathiel and Fidralinia, and turned off the road onto a wagon trail that cut through the tall grasses, leading towards a hill covered in a circle of oak trees. At the base of the hill, the wagon stopped.

  “Your heart is set on Lady Murana?” Lady Kara asked.

  “Of course,” Daecrynn said abruptly, his attention returning to the present.

  “Forgive me, your highness but I am required to ask,” Lady Kara stated.

  “No forgiveness needed, milady. I understand the tradition,” Daecrynn replied.

  “Then I shall take you to her,” Kara said, her lips shortly breaking into a smile.

  She opened the door, and leaped out onto the earth of the clearing before the hill. Two other wagons were parked, one with a banner bearing the inverted teardrop of the House Murana, the other bearing a symbol comprised of three interlocking rings, and the other the pale blue and white banner of the nation of Mindule.

  “Lady Charelle is to invoke the rites?” Daecrynn asked.

  “Yes your majesty,” Kara replied as she turned towards the large hill covered in oak.

  “And I thought she didn’t believe in marriage,” Daecrynn quipped.

  “Milord!” Kara said, turning her head back towards Daecrynn with a scolding glance.

  “Well, that’s not what I’ve heard anyways,” Daecrynn said in a quieter tone.

  “She has fifty two husbands. She most certainly believes in marriage,” Lady Kara replied, shaking her head.

  She walked up the hill, and Daecrynn followed, his face failing to hide an expression of shock.

  “Well if its any consolation, forty of them have other wives of their own,” Lady Kara replied.

  “I see,” Daecrynn said.

  They reached a clearing amidst a circle of eight evenly spaced oak. Cerena stood in the center, wearing a silver ceremonial gown covered in embroidered geometric patterns and Fen’yi runes. To her right stood Nadali Murana in a violet dress, wearing a jewel encrusted silver tiara, with her hair tied back in a carefully woven braid. At her right was Lady Dandaya, the Eloquandi priestess who also served as Cerena Charelle’s liaison to Andriel. Daecrynn and Kara walked towards Cerena, who greeted him with a warm smile.

  “Lady Dandaya, is her heart fixed upon this union?” Cerena asked.

  “Completely,” Dandaya responded, curtseying before the High Priestess.

  Nadali’s eyes and Daecrynn’s locked together as they approached, raising their right hands to clasp into each other’s.

  “Lady Kara, is his heart fixed upon this union?” Cerena queried.

  “Yes it is,” Kara responded, curtseying before Lady Charelle.

  Daecrynn and Nadali’s hands hovered close together, held up a distance of a couple inches. Cerena reached into a small bag and pulled out a long silver ribbon. She wove it between Nadali’s fingers, and Daecrynn’s fingers as they stared into each other’s tear laden eyes. Cerena pulled the ribbon, and their hands closed together and their fingers locked together. She tied a knot at the end of the ribbon.

  “Nadali Eliana Murana, do you wish to share your oath of bonding?” Cerena asked.

  “Daecrynn, I know - that our hearts are one. In the time we’ve spent together, I have felt - as if we knew each other before. Ours is a bond that time cannot destroy,” Nadali said as the tears escaped her eyes, slowly trailing down her chiseled cheekbone and over her chin.

  “You inspire me, Nadali. I wouldn’t be here without you. Since those first days in your father’s palace I knew I had to know you. I was, am driven to you. My heart is yours, and always shall be yours. When time ceases to be, our hearts shall remain one,” Daecrynn stated.

  “Daecrynn Tuvitor, Nadali Tuvitor, you are one today and forever. Now complete this bond,” Cerena recited in Fen’yi.

  LII.

  Summer's Dawn

  "There is no end in time, only endless cycles. Birth, life, death, entropy, rebirth. What has happened today has happened before. We were here before. We will be here again. There is no time, only the cycle of Eternity."

  —Tu’fayator

  This time, it didn't feel premature to go to Andriel. For the first time in Daecrynn's memory, he felt like he was finally going home. He arranged to be taken into the city incognito, dressed as a bowyer named Derefin Morcossi. His horse, and Eliana Morcossi's horse were chosen out of the nag lot in the Namakiera stable. They had intentionally tore and patched their cloaks, and traveled lightly not as a necessity, as they could have ordered the best chariot in the High Kingdom to take them home in style. They wished no fanfare. They rode off from Namakiera in the dead of night, under a blanket of starlight. They rode fast, reaching the forest's edge by morning.

  Deep in the woods they camped, a lone tent under the darkness of the forest canopy. These were the forests where Daecrynn used to run in fear of the man from Madrocea. They camped in a place where Daecrynn reminisced of the Tartali camp being set for a record four days before a Madrocean hunting expedition discovered their existence. They slept through the day, and rode through the night along the Nali Road.

  Morning broke again as they neared Kia Rhia’tis, the Starlight Circle of Eloquandi rite that Asutel Thetali had overseen the building of in ages past. They camped in the woods for the day, to arrive at nighttime, when it was far less likely that they would be greeted with song and fanfare. They simply wanted to go home, and sleep in their own bed. They would wear their crowns and declare their decrees another day.

  This day, they were free.

  The End

  Appendix I.

  The Atriune

  The Atriune is a phonetic writing system used by the Taergeni of the century leading into the one year long War of Ruin that ended with the destruction of the subcontinents of Tirlannon and Cireth. It was also in use by the Ileani elves outside of Tarligean; applied to their Fen’yi tongue. Amongst elves, it is the most common writing system.

  It also functions as a numeric system, with a base of twelve. The Taergeni include Z'yeta as an equivalent to either zero or the infinite, while tier twelve is universally used as zero. When second or third numbers in a tier are used instead of the common first numbers of a tier, it emphasizes the magical or spiritual, or in rare cases it notates the exponential form (cubed or squared, depending on which of the tier the digits are).

  Level One (Numeric Value 1)

&nbs
p; 1. Atriyu

  2. Athien

  3. Andy’yr

  Level Two

  1. And'aye

  2. Ia

  3. Elyd’de

  Level Three

  1. Ilynde

  2. Irys

  3. Olirynn

  Level Four