Welcome to the long awaited Nordanner Historical Archives!
First stop along our tour–the compilation of Nordanner’s Lore!
Royal Historian Karchiel has carefully logged it all for you below:
New Beginnings
Written by Cloudrunner64 – 26 April 2013
Thundering hooves made the ground shake. Shining portals flickered and shone brightly in the twilight, blue light cascading from the arch of pure power. What lay beyond was obscured by the shimmering light, leaving the horses to trust that when they leapt through, their hooves would touch ground on the other side. The Nordanners were beautiful, strong, and powerful—confident even as the earth threatened to fall away. They leapt through the portal one by one…and vanished. All the world was silent for a brief and terrible moment.
Everything crumbled. If an entire world could scream out in defiance, this one did. Then it was gone.
When the announcement had been made that the magic holding their beloved world afloat in the universe had become unstable, it had been simply unbelievable at first. But it was a simple fact: Change was coming, whether they liked it or not. Some of the residents wanted to move to a new land and simply take the name Skagenrak with them. Others wanted to start completely new. When it became clear that the population was split on the decision, it was agreed that the werewolves, seraphs and all the other creatures would take their Rooks and would evacuate the planet first, and find a new home to call Skagenrak. In fact, they did one better: they found a world identical to the first and quickly headed there. The dragons took their own way, and none had been even seen since the discovery of the fragile magic. The others decided to find an entirely new world, and start anew—with their Nordanners in tow.
Most had evacuated far in advance. Powerful magic built shining, temporary bridges to a newly discovered land ages away. With the time constraint the exodus was a steady stream of warhorses, wagons and people carrying whatever their horses couldn’t on their already laden backs. But that left the wild horses. While some were brave enough to lengthen their time on the doomed planet to try and round them up, to herd them toward the bridges, it soon became too dangerous to risk their prized horses in the desperate attempts. So it was that the bridges faded away, and the wild Nordanners were alone. Days before the old Skagenrak began to fall apart, the portals sprung up. The people had banded together and with the Queen’s magic, combined with the power of all the joyous hearts who still held love for their proud dragon hunters, allowed the magic to stretch between worlds, to spring up in places all over their old home. It would allow only Nordanners through, and wouldn’t last long…but when the first wild Nordanner, mane flying and eyes wild, leapt through the corresponding portal into their new world, they knew it was all worth it. Hundreds had gathered to watch with bated breath, and when that first stallion's nose broke through the portal, a cheer rose up.
Coats flashed in new sunshine. Hooves fell on new grass. Mutations never even seen before leapt through the portals, one after the other. Their natural brothers and sisters were close on their heels, whinnying to each other as if to make sure they were all still alive. Hundreds of wild horses sprang into the new world and happy tears were shed all over the land. The portals shuddered and snapped closed behind them. But they were safe. They were saved. They were home.
Realizing they were not alone on the new planet and that far too many eyes were on them, the horses snorted and fled, disappearing into the trees to discover the rest of what would now be their world. Everywhere you looked there were smiles and laughter. Tack jingled where Nordanners tossed their heads with their owners’ approval. One whisper raced through the ranks of everyone gathered to watch.
“Welcome to Aleria.”
Somewhere in the distance, a dragon roared.
Thundering hooves made the ground shake. Shining portals flickered and shone brightly in the twilight, blue light cascading from the arch of pure power. What lay beyond was obscured by the shimmering light, leaving the horses to trust that when they leapt through, their hooves would touch ground on the other side. The Nordanners were beautiful, strong, and powerful—confident even as the earth threatened to fall away. They leapt through the portal one by one…and vanished. All the world was silent for a brief and terrible moment.
Everything crumbled. If an entire world could scream out in defiance, this one did. Then it was gone.
When the announcement had been made that the magic holding their beloved world afloat in the universe had become unstable, it had been simply unbelievable at first. But it was a simple fact: Change was coming, whether they liked it or not. Some of the residents wanted to move to a new land and simply take the name Skagenrak with them. Others wanted to start completely new. When it became clear that the population was split on the decision, it was agreed that the werewolves, seraphs and all the other creatures would take their Rooks and would evacuate the planet first, and find a new home to call Skagenrak. In fact, they did one better: they found a world identical to the first and quickly headed there. The dragons took their own way, and none had been even seen since the discovery of the fragile magic. The others decided to find an entirely new world, and start anew—with their Nordanners in tow.
Most had evacuated far in advance. Powerful magic built shining, temporary bridges to a newly discovered land ages away. With the time constraint the exodus was a steady stream of warhorses, wagons and people carrying whatever their horses couldn’t on their already laden backs. But that left the wild horses. While some were brave enough to lengthen their time on the doomed planet to try and round them up, to herd them toward the bridges, it soon became too dangerous to risk their prized horses in the desperate attempts. So it was that the bridges faded away, and the wild Nordanners were alone. Days before the old Skagenrak began to fall apart, the portals sprung up. The people had banded together and with the Queen’s magic, combined with the power of all the joyous hearts who still held love for their proud dragon hunters, allowed the magic to stretch between worlds, to spring up in places all over their old home. It would allow only Nordanners through, and wouldn’t last long…but when the first wild Nordanner, mane flying and eyes wild, leapt through the corresponding portal into their new world, they knew it was all worth it. Hundreds had gathered to watch with bated breath, and when that first stallion's nose broke through the portal, a cheer rose up.
Coats flashed in new sunshine. Hooves fell on new grass. Mutations never even seen before leapt through the portals, one after the other. Their natural brothers and sisters were close on their heels, whinnying to each other as if to make sure they were all still alive. Hundreds of wild horses sprang into the new world and happy tears were shed all over the land. The portals shuddered and snapped closed behind them. But they were safe. They were saved. They were home.
Realizing they were not alone on the new planet and that far too many eyes were on them, the horses snorted and fled, disappearing into the trees to discover the rest of what would now be their world. Everywhere you looked there were smiles and laughter. Tack jingled where Nordanners tossed their heads with their owners’ approval. One whisper raced through the ranks of everyone gathered to watch.
“Welcome to Aleria.”
Somewhere in the distance, a dragon roared.
Ripples
Written by Cloudrunner64 – 01 September 2016
"Get out!"
"But, my Queen—!"
A shove of magic forceful enough to both push her advisor out and slam the door behind him ended the argument. She dropped her head into her hands, propping her elbows up on the massive desk, papers rustling and shifting out of the way. She had a shorter temper these days. She knew it. Unfortunately, so did everyone else. There were enough excuses to clutter the floor like so many discarded tissues. Change is difficult. Everything has changed, and continues to do so. That was good. Necessary, even. But sometimes it brought heartache along with it. Her beloved breeding master retired. A devastating disease rocked the community, leaving it shaken, and with the dirt on who knew how many graves still fresh. Change was good. Healthy. And it hurt. On top of it all, she'd managed to be a resounding failure in...well, many different areas, though one in particular felt especially sore. Looking up, she stared out the open window to the sprawling pasture. White fences gleamed in silver moonlight. Soft coats shimmered with dapples cast by shafts filtering through the branches of trees. Nordanners. Faithful, loyal creatures. Sometimes terrifyingly smart. Nearly unfailingly brave. And always, always without magic. Even before they'd come to this world so rich in power, they'd fought dragons with nothing but armor and trust in the rider on their backs. Wasn't it time for that to change, too?
Maybe. If she could just... Heaving a sigh, she rose, snatching up her silver-gray staff at the same time. Her footsteps echoed in the long hall as she left the study. Aleria was different. The dragons here were interesting, to say the least. Gems from their bodies boosted the economy and trade between their lands and those beyond. Most conceded once beaten in a fair fight, allowing the victor to take something they desired. Not all. Sometimes those altercations turned deadly. It wasn't rare in the least. Not all dragons went by this unwritten 'code,' either. Impossible to know at first breath which was which. And there was trouble here. Beyond the personal challenges they all faced. Not everyone was pleased about their arrival. Nor the pristine location they'd seemingly been given, though by whom she had yet to nail down. The questions circled along the same tired path they'd taken since their arrival over the bridge, and she was grateful for the cool night air on her skin as she pushed through the heavy doors and into the open. A fluffy foal's head shot up and he made a beeline for the fence, chirping in that peculiar way he had. Then again, his father had massive feathered wings, and fancied himself a bird (complete with noises!), so perhaps it wasn’t all that odd. She boosted herself to the top rail and sat there, the staff tucked in the crook of her elbow, other hand extended to the soft muzzle. He gave her fingers a sniff and pressed close, nosing all over her assorted pockets for a treat. She laughed and produced one for him. Wise never to be without a stray sugar cube or baby carrot. Pleased, he stepped away to eat it, and she let the staff lean on the fence, folding her arms over her stomach.
Bright stars glittered in the sky's midnight bosom, not dulled in the slightest by the swelling moon. "I need help," she whispered. The words stung, even admitting it to no one but herself. Well. Herself and Courlius the foal, who had one ear flicked her way. Every attempt she'd made had failed. For whatever was coming, hell, just for daily life as a dragon-fighting warhorse, Nordanners needed more. Deserved more. Whatever she could give them. Which was, apparently, greatly lacking. She bowed her head against the pain spearing her heart. What more can I do? The foal snorted, and the air changed. Shifted. She looked up. A snowflake drifted down, so incredibly out of season at the end of summer all she could do was stare at it. Great. Hallucinations, now? Courlius tilted his head, pure curiosity. It landed on his nose. He snorted, and magic tingled. Vibrated. And...vanished. Above, the moon grew brighter--or so it seemed. Warm air, like a soft exhale, brushed her cheek. "Barachiel," she breathed the name, and watched as the little foal pawed at the ground with one pale hoof, and plants sprang up in the furrow. A second snowflake spiraled down to the pale stone gripped by her staff, and disappeared. While the young Nordanner sniffed curiously at the plants he'd grown, she leapt up, and shouted a name across the quiet field.
An answering whinny came back, and a chestnut mare streaked over the grass not far behind. The Queen stroked a hand down her soft face to her velvet nose, tracing the line of the broken star and snip. Whispering words to the pricked ears just for the two of them, she touched the mare's shoulder with the staff. Magic surged. Responded. The way it hadn’t so many times before. She reared back, snorting, tail switching...and fire took hold of the silken ends. The mare's head craned around to look, and she shook her mane. ‘Bombproof’ didn’t begin to describe a prized Nordanner who’d faced down countless dragons...and one pesky wombat. Curiosity shone in the dark, intelligent eyes, and she turned in a circle as if chasing her tail, watching the flames creep higher, though never once did they burn her. "Try," the woman said, holding out a hand. Understanding dawned immediately. Heat burst where there had been none, and still the red coat was unblemished. Tears shone in her eyes. It worked. The mare had magic. Fire magic, and she could control it. Realizing it, she took off, racing gleefully around the pasture, leaving fiery hoofprints and healthy grass behind. Swiping at the tears with the back of her hand, she made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and felt a nudge at her knee. Looking down, she met the foal's eyes, and he offered her the flower he held in his mouth. "Oh, you," she said, dropping to one knee to take it and wrap him in a tight hug, the staff abandoned to lean on the fence once more.
"Thank you," she whispered to the sky, and knew it wasn't just her imagination making the moon appear brighter than it was. Thank you, Barachiel. So the world was different. The sky and her constellations. But he was still there. Hope, brighter than the brightest star, took hold. "We'll be okay," she whispered to the foal, who rubbed his head against her arm. "We're all going to be okay."
"Get out!"
"But, my Queen—!"
A shove of magic forceful enough to both push her advisor out and slam the door behind him ended the argument. She dropped her head into her hands, propping her elbows up on the massive desk, papers rustling and shifting out of the way. She had a shorter temper these days. She knew it. Unfortunately, so did everyone else. There were enough excuses to clutter the floor like so many discarded tissues. Change is difficult. Everything has changed, and continues to do so. That was good. Necessary, even. But sometimes it brought heartache along with it. Her beloved breeding master retired. A devastating disease rocked the community, leaving it shaken, and with the dirt on who knew how many graves still fresh. Change was good. Healthy. And it hurt. On top of it all, she'd managed to be a resounding failure in...well, many different areas, though one in particular felt especially sore. Looking up, she stared out the open window to the sprawling pasture. White fences gleamed in silver moonlight. Soft coats shimmered with dapples cast by shafts filtering through the branches of trees. Nordanners. Faithful, loyal creatures. Sometimes terrifyingly smart. Nearly unfailingly brave. And always, always without magic. Even before they'd come to this world so rich in power, they'd fought dragons with nothing but armor and trust in the rider on their backs. Wasn't it time for that to change, too?
Maybe. If she could just... Heaving a sigh, she rose, snatching up her silver-gray staff at the same time. Her footsteps echoed in the long hall as she left the study. Aleria was different. The dragons here were interesting, to say the least. Gems from their bodies boosted the economy and trade between their lands and those beyond. Most conceded once beaten in a fair fight, allowing the victor to take something they desired. Not all. Sometimes those altercations turned deadly. It wasn't rare in the least. Not all dragons went by this unwritten 'code,' either. Impossible to know at first breath which was which. And there was trouble here. Beyond the personal challenges they all faced. Not everyone was pleased about their arrival. Nor the pristine location they'd seemingly been given, though by whom she had yet to nail down. The questions circled along the same tired path they'd taken since their arrival over the bridge, and she was grateful for the cool night air on her skin as she pushed through the heavy doors and into the open. A fluffy foal's head shot up and he made a beeline for the fence, chirping in that peculiar way he had. Then again, his father had massive feathered wings, and fancied himself a bird (complete with noises!), so perhaps it wasn’t all that odd. She boosted herself to the top rail and sat there, the staff tucked in the crook of her elbow, other hand extended to the soft muzzle. He gave her fingers a sniff and pressed close, nosing all over her assorted pockets for a treat. She laughed and produced one for him. Wise never to be without a stray sugar cube or baby carrot. Pleased, he stepped away to eat it, and she let the staff lean on the fence, folding her arms over her stomach.
Bright stars glittered in the sky's midnight bosom, not dulled in the slightest by the swelling moon. "I need help," she whispered. The words stung, even admitting it to no one but herself. Well. Herself and Courlius the foal, who had one ear flicked her way. Every attempt she'd made had failed. For whatever was coming, hell, just for daily life as a dragon-fighting warhorse, Nordanners needed more. Deserved more. Whatever she could give them. Which was, apparently, greatly lacking. She bowed her head against the pain spearing her heart. What more can I do? The foal snorted, and the air changed. Shifted. She looked up. A snowflake drifted down, so incredibly out of season at the end of summer all she could do was stare at it. Great. Hallucinations, now? Courlius tilted his head, pure curiosity. It landed on his nose. He snorted, and magic tingled. Vibrated. And...vanished. Above, the moon grew brighter--or so it seemed. Warm air, like a soft exhale, brushed her cheek. "Barachiel," she breathed the name, and watched as the little foal pawed at the ground with one pale hoof, and plants sprang up in the furrow. A second snowflake spiraled down to the pale stone gripped by her staff, and disappeared. While the young Nordanner sniffed curiously at the plants he'd grown, she leapt up, and shouted a name across the quiet field.
An answering whinny came back, and a chestnut mare streaked over the grass not far behind. The Queen stroked a hand down her soft face to her velvet nose, tracing the line of the broken star and snip. Whispering words to the pricked ears just for the two of them, she touched the mare's shoulder with the staff. Magic surged. Responded. The way it hadn’t so many times before. She reared back, snorting, tail switching...and fire took hold of the silken ends. The mare's head craned around to look, and she shook her mane. ‘Bombproof’ didn’t begin to describe a prized Nordanner who’d faced down countless dragons...and one pesky wombat. Curiosity shone in the dark, intelligent eyes, and she turned in a circle as if chasing her tail, watching the flames creep higher, though never once did they burn her. "Try," the woman said, holding out a hand. Understanding dawned immediately. Heat burst where there had been none, and still the red coat was unblemished. Tears shone in her eyes. It worked. The mare had magic. Fire magic, and she could control it. Realizing it, she took off, racing gleefully around the pasture, leaving fiery hoofprints and healthy grass behind. Swiping at the tears with the back of her hand, she made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and felt a nudge at her knee. Looking down, she met the foal's eyes, and he offered her the flower he held in his mouth. "Oh, you," she said, dropping to one knee to take it and wrap him in a tight hug, the staff abandoned to lean on the fence once more.
"Thank you," she whispered to the sky, and knew it wasn't just her imagination making the moon appear brighter than it was. Thank you, Barachiel. So the world was different. The sky and her constellations. But he was still there. Hope, brighter than the brightest star, took hold. "We'll be okay," she whispered to the foal, who rubbed his head against her arm. "We're all going to be okay."
Stop, Hey, What’s That Smell?
Written by Cloudrunner64 – 22 October 2016
It was unmistakable. Intoxicating. Mesmerizing. It was autumn in a single scent, the changing of leaves from green to red to gold, the promise and kiss of coming snow, the--
"...get your nose out of my coffee, Ben."
"But it's so good."
"Yes, and I like it without nose hair."
"C'mon," Ben objected as the delectable source of his fascination was lifted away from his twitching nose. Sometimes, he wished their magic was strong enough to give him something even better than a human sense of smell. How must it seem to the horses, he wondered? "Just a taste?"
"We have work to do," the other mage said, giving him a disapproving stare over the rim of the steaming coffee cup. Estrovya was Aleria's leading mage and scientist, specializing in Nordanner genetics...and guardian of the Secret Recipe for the Pumpkin Spice Coffee he held in his hand. Every year he concocted the delicious drink, and every year people clamored for the recipe. He never did give it out. Ben thought he looked rather like a distinguished (if still youthful) grandfather, standing there with the hint of a scowl on his face, silver sweeping delicate fingers through a heavy mane of dark hair. A musing for which Estrovya would have happily smacked him for, if he'd known. As it was, his eyes narrowed, sapphire chips meeting innocent emeralds.
"Okay," Ben said meekly, and received another scowl in response. Shoving his hands through his already disheveled brunette mop, he studiously straightened a bottle of mysterious liquid perching on the table between them. The mix of magic and science fascinated him, and despite his penchant for sniffing the boss's coffee, he truly was an excellent assistant. A snort of amusement drew both of their eyes to the big Nordanner standing patiently in the crossties, silver tail twitching, sweeping the floor. "If only you knew," Ben told the horse, who merely flicked his ears in reply.
"Alright, big guy," Estrovya said, putting down his coffee in favor of a syringe with, in Ben's humble opinion, a needle much larger than any needle should ever be. "One more blood sample, for the record."
The bay heaved a sigh, but stood his ground as the mage approached. Their space was comfortable enough, for a barn attached to what was essentially a lab. Golden light hazed in through sparkling windows, dappling the floor. They'd begun experimenting more as of late, curious about the change in their mounts. Always humanely, of course, no one wanted to see a Nordanner hurt in some harebrained test, but was it truly from Barachiel? Where else could their magic have come from? How did it react with their own powers? Too many questions revolved around the mysterious happening not to try answering a few of them. Ben, however, had a curiosity of a different sort. As Estrovya murmured under his breath to the stallion, he took a step. And then another one. Aaaaand another one. Picking up the abandoned coffee cup, he considered it a moment. Honestly, he knew the older mage was incredibly talented, but what voodoo did he do?! Bringing it his nose, he took another sniff, and realized on a delay that the barn had grown very, very quiet.
"Ben."
It was like a scene out of a movie. He yelped, jumped approximately four feet, and the mug went promptly airborne. Both mages lunged for it, magic tangling in a dangerous fashion as they each scrabbled to catch it with more than hands. The table lurched, bottles and potions going flying right alongside the coveted coffee. Something went pop! and Estrovya grabbed his assistant in mid-reach, yanking them both to the ground behind the table just as the combination of magic, coffee, and half-finished tests exploded in a cloud of suspiciously glittery smoke. The stallion squealed, sounds like gunshots ringing out as he kicked at unrelenting, sturdy walls. "Buck!" Estroyva lunged to his feet. That stallion was special, if he'd come to some sort of harm--he stopped, and stared. Ben came haphazardly upright, rubbing his elbow, apologies brimming, and blinked.
Buck glared at them. Massive antlers sprouted from his skull, scraping the walls when he moved. The previously chocolate brown eyes, though no less intelligent, were rimmed with gold.
"Do you see this? I'm seeing this. You're seeing this, right?" Ben asked, incredulous.
"He's...orange," Estrovya said, nearly speechless. Ben took a breath.
"Yeah, but he smells delicious."
"...I'm beginning to rethink your employment."
"Sorry. But I don't think he's a silver bay Nordanner anymore."
"Do not. Say it."
"He's a pumpkin spice Nordanner! With whipped cream!"
The coffee cup rolled from the wreckage of otherwise shattered glass, completely empty.
"I believe you're going to have to rethink his name," Ben said helpfully as the other mage glowered.
"Ben."
"You could--"
"Ben!"
"Starbuck!"
The stallion snorted, and Estrovya contemplated the ethics of murdering one's assistant. He could get away with it. Probably. "Soooo," Ben said, earning himself another heavy dose of the evil eye. "It was an accident, but we've got something incredible here."
"Your point, Mr. Former Assistant?"
He gulped audibly. "Uh...so... Now's not a good time to ask for your recipe?"
"What do you think?"
"...I think I'll get a broom."
"That's better."
It was unmistakable. Intoxicating. Mesmerizing. It was autumn in a single scent, the changing of leaves from green to red to gold, the promise and kiss of coming snow, the--
"...get your nose out of my coffee, Ben."
"But it's so good."
"Yes, and I like it without nose hair."
"C'mon," Ben objected as the delectable source of his fascination was lifted away from his twitching nose. Sometimes, he wished their magic was strong enough to give him something even better than a human sense of smell. How must it seem to the horses, he wondered? "Just a taste?"
"We have work to do," the other mage said, giving him a disapproving stare over the rim of the steaming coffee cup. Estrovya was Aleria's leading mage and scientist, specializing in Nordanner genetics...and guardian of the Secret Recipe for the Pumpkin Spice Coffee he held in his hand. Every year he concocted the delicious drink, and every year people clamored for the recipe. He never did give it out. Ben thought he looked rather like a distinguished (if still youthful) grandfather, standing there with the hint of a scowl on his face, silver sweeping delicate fingers through a heavy mane of dark hair. A musing for which Estrovya would have happily smacked him for, if he'd known. As it was, his eyes narrowed, sapphire chips meeting innocent emeralds.
"Okay," Ben said meekly, and received another scowl in response. Shoving his hands through his already disheveled brunette mop, he studiously straightened a bottle of mysterious liquid perching on the table between them. The mix of magic and science fascinated him, and despite his penchant for sniffing the boss's coffee, he truly was an excellent assistant. A snort of amusement drew both of their eyes to the big Nordanner standing patiently in the crossties, silver tail twitching, sweeping the floor. "If only you knew," Ben told the horse, who merely flicked his ears in reply.
"Alright, big guy," Estrovya said, putting down his coffee in favor of a syringe with, in Ben's humble opinion, a needle much larger than any needle should ever be. "One more blood sample, for the record."
The bay heaved a sigh, but stood his ground as the mage approached. Their space was comfortable enough, for a barn attached to what was essentially a lab. Golden light hazed in through sparkling windows, dappling the floor. They'd begun experimenting more as of late, curious about the change in their mounts. Always humanely, of course, no one wanted to see a Nordanner hurt in some harebrained test, but was it truly from Barachiel? Where else could their magic have come from? How did it react with their own powers? Too many questions revolved around the mysterious happening not to try answering a few of them. Ben, however, had a curiosity of a different sort. As Estrovya murmured under his breath to the stallion, he took a step. And then another one. Aaaaand another one. Picking up the abandoned coffee cup, he considered it a moment. Honestly, he knew the older mage was incredibly talented, but what voodoo did he do?! Bringing it his nose, he took another sniff, and realized on a delay that the barn had grown very, very quiet.
"Ben."
It was like a scene out of a movie. He yelped, jumped approximately four feet, and the mug went promptly airborne. Both mages lunged for it, magic tangling in a dangerous fashion as they each scrabbled to catch it with more than hands. The table lurched, bottles and potions going flying right alongside the coveted coffee. Something went pop! and Estrovya grabbed his assistant in mid-reach, yanking them both to the ground behind the table just as the combination of magic, coffee, and half-finished tests exploded in a cloud of suspiciously glittery smoke. The stallion squealed, sounds like gunshots ringing out as he kicked at unrelenting, sturdy walls. "Buck!" Estroyva lunged to his feet. That stallion was special, if he'd come to some sort of harm--he stopped, and stared. Ben came haphazardly upright, rubbing his elbow, apologies brimming, and blinked.
Buck glared at them. Massive antlers sprouted from his skull, scraping the walls when he moved. The previously chocolate brown eyes, though no less intelligent, were rimmed with gold.
"Do you see this? I'm seeing this. You're seeing this, right?" Ben asked, incredulous.
"He's...orange," Estrovya said, nearly speechless. Ben took a breath.
"Yeah, but he smells delicious."
"...I'm beginning to rethink your employment."
"Sorry. But I don't think he's a silver bay Nordanner anymore."
"Do not. Say it."
"He's a pumpkin spice Nordanner! With whipped cream!"
The coffee cup rolled from the wreckage of otherwise shattered glass, completely empty.
"I believe you're going to have to rethink his name," Ben said helpfully as the other mage glowered.
"Ben."
"You could--"
"Ben!"
"Starbuck!"
The stallion snorted, and Estrovya contemplated the ethics of murdering one's assistant. He could get away with it. Probably. "Soooo," Ben said, earning himself another heavy dose of the evil eye. "It was an accident, but we've got something incredible here."
"Your point, Mr. Former Assistant?"
He gulped audibly. "Uh...so... Now's not a good time to ask for your recipe?"
"What do you think?"
"...I think I'll get a broom."
"That's better."
In The Beginning…
Written by Cloudrunner64 – 13 November 2016
It began as a breeding project.
War was simply a state of being in those times. Hundreds of years ago, now. I doubt even your parents recall. Hush, Treton--you may be the oldest, but you are far from the wisest. Sit down, and listen.
Our people have always fought.
...now is not the time for questions. Wait until I’m finished. What? Oh, alright.
Ah.
Because there was always something to fight for.
Land.
Food.
Water.
Freedom.
Oppressive regimes to the right.
Dragons on the left.
Not the tame, friendly sort you’ll find more often these days either. Oh, no. These beasts were of legend and lore, taller than any building you’ll find on any of the known worlds, breathing fire hotter than the largest furnace. They killed without mercy. Without compunction.
That means ‘guilt,’ Gayrn. Don’t laugh, Treton, or I’ll be assigning you a reading assignment out of the latest Royal Dictionary. Humph.
Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Dragons. Well. Any successful war needs people, and those people need the right tools. We grew from the weeds of the Wild, out of the dust and grass and untamable winds, always with a horse beneath or beside us. They changed as we did. Adapted as we must. Fought, and died with us.
We thrived.
So did the other peoples on our world.
Soon it seemed as if there simply wasn’t enough room for us all, and brother fought against brother, King against King, desperate to claim what they thought was necessary. What they thought was deserved.
And then the monsters came. It is said they were birthed from the seed of an active volcano, blessed with the dust of a trailing star, but no one knows for sure. We do know they were vicious. They spoke no language known to Man and had no interest in our bargains. Suddenly, war was on all sides. It might’ve made sense to band together against a common foe, but greed and arrogance said no. No. Defeat the hellish creatures, destroy one’s opponents, and conquer what once had been free, all in one fell swoop.
We may be blessed with long lives, but any can be cut short on the blade of a sword...or talons of a dragon.
To say things looked bleak is a gross understatement. Our Queen tried everything, but her powers were small in comparison. Our borders shrank, and continued shrinking as we lost ground to greedy mouths. We were caught squarely in the middle of it all. She and the breeding masters came together, turning to the one thing we’d kept near and dear through it all: the Horse.
What they found saved us all. As if Barachiel himself had stepped down from the moon and given us a blessing. A gift.
Maybe he did.
It was called the Nordanner, and it is the stalwart companion we know and love today. A ray of hope, a beacon of sunlight, and the turning of the tides. Oh, it took time, and our losses were heavy. One cannot produce an army of warhorses overnight! Indeed, our Queen was killed during the last terrible battle. You’ll know it as the Battle Fortuna, if you’ve cracked a history book in any of your classes. Fortunate only because it was the turning point.
The point at which we turned back the dragons, and quiet finally, finally, fell over our lands.
Hmm? What about the…? Yes, yes, I’m getting to that. You see, the arrogance of some led to the death of many. Dragons had entirely decimated the lands and people in the South. What once had been fertile now lay dead, and soon gave way to desert sands. Our former enemies to the North had a change of heart upon realizing what we’d accomplished, and we formed an alliance, effectively ending the War Between Nations. The East, their own armies crumbling, agreed to mind their own business, though they had no interest in allying with us. Open trade routes were good enough for them.
Over time, we improved on our warhorses, and even managed to capture a dragon or two. Breeding out their more vicious qualities wasn’t for the faint of heart, but proved possible.
For a long, long time, we lived in peace.
Then the magic began to die.
No one knows why. But it’s in our blood, and in the blood of our horses, faint though it may be, and we cannot survive without it. Perhaps it had to do with the death of the remaining dragons, or maybe the world simply gave out. Odds are we’ll never know. The other Nations picked up and left for new worlds. So did we. You’ll all remember that--even you, Treton!--if you’ve got a brain cell or two to rub together.
Now...now, there are new dragons. New Magic. New people. And for a time, it seemed as if even the Gods had forsaken us.
But they haven’t. The world turns. Changes come. The spark of magic in our Nordanner’s hearts has finally been encouraged to bloom.
So don’t fear, young ones. Don’t fear. No matter what challenges we face, what battles we may yet fight for our place in this world, we are not alone.
They are here.
Watching over us even still.
We know now who brought us to Aleria. For if Barachiel still breathes, so too must his siblings. And that, my friends, is some of the best news we’ve had in years.
Now, then…
Any questions?
--- Karchiel, Aleria’s (Somewhat Cantankerous) Royal Historian.
It began as a breeding project.
War was simply a state of being in those times. Hundreds of years ago, now. I doubt even your parents recall. Hush, Treton--you may be the oldest, but you are far from the wisest. Sit down, and listen.
Our people have always fought.
...now is not the time for questions. Wait until I’m finished. What? Oh, alright.
Ah.
Because there was always something to fight for.
Land.
Food.
Water.
Freedom.
Oppressive regimes to the right.
Dragons on the left.
Not the tame, friendly sort you’ll find more often these days either. Oh, no. These beasts were of legend and lore, taller than any building you’ll find on any of the known worlds, breathing fire hotter than the largest furnace. They killed without mercy. Without compunction.
That means ‘guilt,’ Gayrn. Don’t laugh, Treton, or I’ll be assigning you a reading assignment out of the latest Royal Dictionary. Humph.
Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Dragons. Well. Any successful war needs people, and those people need the right tools. We grew from the weeds of the Wild, out of the dust and grass and untamable winds, always with a horse beneath or beside us. They changed as we did. Adapted as we must. Fought, and died with us.
We thrived.
So did the other peoples on our world.
Soon it seemed as if there simply wasn’t enough room for us all, and brother fought against brother, King against King, desperate to claim what they thought was necessary. What they thought was deserved.
And then the monsters came. It is said they were birthed from the seed of an active volcano, blessed with the dust of a trailing star, but no one knows for sure. We do know they were vicious. They spoke no language known to Man and had no interest in our bargains. Suddenly, war was on all sides. It might’ve made sense to band together against a common foe, but greed and arrogance said no. No. Defeat the hellish creatures, destroy one’s opponents, and conquer what once had been free, all in one fell swoop.
We may be blessed with long lives, but any can be cut short on the blade of a sword...or talons of a dragon.
To say things looked bleak is a gross understatement. Our Queen tried everything, but her powers were small in comparison. Our borders shrank, and continued shrinking as we lost ground to greedy mouths. We were caught squarely in the middle of it all. She and the breeding masters came together, turning to the one thing we’d kept near and dear through it all: the Horse.
What they found saved us all. As if Barachiel himself had stepped down from the moon and given us a blessing. A gift.
Maybe he did.
It was called the Nordanner, and it is the stalwart companion we know and love today. A ray of hope, a beacon of sunlight, and the turning of the tides. Oh, it took time, and our losses were heavy. One cannot produce an army of warhorses overnight! Indeed, our Queen was killed during the last terrible battle. You’ll know it as the Battle Fortuna, if you’ve cracked a history book in any of your classes. Fortunate only because it was the turning point.
The point at which we turned back the dragons, and quiet finally, finally, fell over our lands.
Hmm? What about the…? Yes, yes, I’m getting to that. You see, the arrogance of some led to the death of many. Dragons had entirely decimated the lands and people in the South. What once had been fertile now lay dead, and soon gave way to desert sands. Our former enemies to the North had a change of heart upon realizing what we’d accomplished, and we formed an alliance, effectively ending the War Between Nations. The East, their own armies crumbling, agreed to mind their own business, though they had no interest in allying with us. Open trade routes were good enough for them.
Over time, we improved on our warhorses, and even managed to capture a dragon or two. Breeding out their more vicious qualities wasn’t for the faint of heart, but proved possible.
For a long, long time, we lived in peace.
Then the magic began to die.
No one knows why. But it’s in our blood, and in the blood of our horses, faint though it may be, and we cannot survive without it. Perhaps it had to do with the death of the remaining dragons, or maybe the world simply gave out. Odds are we’ll never know. The other Nations picked up and left for new worlds. So did we. You’ll all remember that--even you, Treton!--if you’ve got a brain cell or two to rub together.
Now...now, there are new dragons. New Magic. New people. And for a time, it seemed as if even the Gods had forsaken us.
But they haven’t. The world turns. Changes come. The spark of magic in our Nordanner’s hearts has finally been encouraged to bloom.
So don’t fear, young ones. Don’t fear. No matter what challenges we face, what battles we may yet fight for our place in this world, we are not alone.
They are here.
Watching over us even still.
We know now who brought us to Aleria. For if Barachiel still breathes, so too must his siblings. And that, my friends, is some of the best news we’ve had in years.
Now, then…
Any questions?
--- Karchiel, Aleria’s (Somewhat Cantankerous) Royal Historian.
Peafowl Parade
Written by HoT-Stables – 09 July 2017
Come one, come all! Gather around Alerians! I have a great announcement from our Queen! Our yearly dragon hunt is almost upon us; the community has spent all year with their mounts training, and are beginning to travel in from all around Aleria for the main event. Hunting season is a very tense time, stakes are high and both horses and trainers alike undergo a lot of pressure. The parade is a celebration for Alerians all around for a chance to kick back, relax a bit, enjoy the festivities and celebrate their mounts and all the breed has achieved before the hard hunt arrives. The last day of the parade is the day the mighty hunt kicks off. Alerians! Now is the time to celebrate! Show us your beautiful plumes and horses! For after our feast, we fight!
The Parade
“Prancing…persnickety…pretty…”
“Gods. Please stop.”
“But it's not right!”
The Queen rubbed at her temples as the palace’s best event planner paced back and forth in front of a cluttered cork board. Drawings, nearly incoherent scribbles and sketches stuck out wildly from all sides, though she supposed she'd count herself lucky the process hasn't taken over the floor as well. Yet.
“Why don't we simply call it the Peafowl Parade?” She suggested patiently.
“The Pretty Peafowl Parade?” Came the hopeful reply.
“No,” she said. “Just…no.”
The planner paused, pretending to pout (potentially) persuasively for a moment longer than entirely necessary. The Queen arched an eyebrow.
“Peafowl Parade it is!” She said, and set about gathering all the materials she'd need to put on the show.
Horses and heat, music and the heady scent of flowers filled the air as parade day dawned. She stood at the balcony, admiring the festivities from a distance. Her people deserved this. Deserved something good. As she leaned on the cool stone, hooves thumped on soft grass as her beloved chestnut streaked across the field. Most everyone was taking part in the parade, and what a grand sight it was! Surely one none of them would forget for quite some time. Yet…her eyes drifted to the mare again. She gave a toss of her head, mane flying, and whinnied, the sound curious. Beckoning. “Who are you talking to?” She murmured under her breath. There was a pause in the music. Magic tingled up and down her spine. On the hill opposite the street, where humans and their horses seemed to inhale as one, a wild horse appeared. Then two. Then three. Plumes shimmered as tails swished, and her breath caught. Peafowls. Wild peafowls. She didn't even want to count how many years it'd been seen any of them had seen one. A shout rose up, utter joy lacing the sound. Finding she couldn't remove the smile from her face, she turned her eyes to the sky and silently thanked whomever might be listening for the gift. If that wasn't a good omen, she didn't know what was.
Come one, come all! Gather around Alerians! I have a great announcement from our Queen! Our yearly dragon hunt is almost upon us; the community has spent all year with their mounts training, and are beginning to travel in from all around Aleria for the main event. Hunting season is a very tense time, stakes are high and both horses and trainers alike undergo a lot of pressure. The parade is a celebration for Alerians all around for a chance to kick back, relax a bit, enjoy the festivities and celebrate their mounts and all the breed has achieved before the hard hunt arrives. The last day of the parade is the day the mighty hunt kicks off. Alerians! Now is the time to celebrate! Show us your beautiful plumes and horses! For after our feast, we fight!
The Parade
“Prancing…persnickety…pretty…”
“Gods. Please stop.”
“But it's not right!”
The Queen rubbed at her temples as the palace’s best event planner paced back and forth in front of a cluttered cork board. Drawings, nearly incoherent scribbles and sketches stuck out wildly from all sides, though she supposed she'd count herself lucky the process hasn't taken over the floor as well. Yet.
“Why don't we simply call it the Peafowl Parade?” She suggested patiently.
“The Pretty Peafowl Parade?” Came the hopeful reply.
“No,” she said. “Just…no.”
The planner paused, pretending to pout (potentially) persuasively for a moment longer than entirely necessary. The Queen arched an eyebrow.
“Peafowl Parade it is!” She said, and set about gathering all the materials she'd need to put on the show.
Horses and heat, music and the heady scent of flowers filled the air as parade day dawned. She stood at the balcony, admiring the festivities from a distance. Her people deserved this. Deserved something good. As she leaned on the cool stone, hooves thumped on soft grass as her beloved chestnut streaked across the field. Most everyone was taking part in the parade, and what a grand sight it was! Surely one none of them would forget for quite some time. Yet…her eyes drifted to the mare again. She gave a toss of her head, mane flying, and whinnied, the sound curious. Beckoning. “Who are you talking to?” She murmured under her breath. There was a pause in the music. Magic tingled up and down her spine. On the hill opposite the street, where humans and their horses seemed to inhale as one, a wild horse appeared. Then two. Then three. Plumes shimmered as tails swished, and her breath caught. Peafowls. Wild peafowls. She didn't even want to count how many years it'd been seen any of them had seen one. A shout rose up, utter joy lacing the sound. Finding she couldn't remove the smile from her face, she turned her eyes to the sky and silently thanked whomever might be listening for the gift. If that wasn't a good omen, she didn't know what was.
Blessings Disguised and Warning Signs
Written by Cloudrunner64 – 21 August 2017
Fans stirred the air. Papers rustled with the faint breeze. Yet another page began creeping toward the edge of her desk. The Queen gave it a dark look and once again moved the horsehead-shaped paperweight. Summer clung to the world with long, hot fingers, and she was ready for cooler temperatures. None of her papers ever tried to jump into the fireplace, but they did seem to have a strange fondness for the balcony. Or maybe it was her own wishful thinking, since that was where she’d rather have been as well. It was one of her favorite places when she couldn’t make it down to the barn, which happened more and more often. “There’s much to do,” she told the paperweight. Its emerald eye glittered in what she imagined was reproach. “Well, there is,” she said defensively. “Planning, budgeting, damage control--Aleria is still new to us, you know, and then there’s the magic to think of, and…oh, don’t look at me like that.” At least nobody was there to wonder who on earth she was talking to. What would she say? Don’t mind me, Fergus, the paperweight is giving me sass. Truthfully, things were going well. Too well, almost. It was her job to worry about such matters, and she did so with great finesse. Nordanners continued to explore the possibilities of magic, and their new home continued to grow. Buildings of fine stone crept into the sky, tentatively testing the apparent peace. But the Gods hadn’t given them magic and Familiars for no reason.
So she worried. And wondered. Though the parade had wound down, a rousing success stuffed to the brim with enthusiastic citizens (and peafowls!), the streets still bustled with activity. The astronomers predicted a solar eclipse would soon be upon them, and many of those who had traveled far for the event stuck around to see what else might happen. Indeed, celestial events could be quite...interesting, in worlds spilling over with magic. Signing quick approval on the request before her, she got up, retrieved her staff from the corner, and allowed herself the time to visit the horses. Many of them were turned out into the rolling pastures. The palace had always boasted the finest stock, and it was no different in Aleria. Shiny coats and high spirits marked almost every horse, and she admired them in the same way she had when she was young, and had first laid eyes upon a Nordanner. As she stepped into the barn, a midnight-black nose popped over the closest door to greet her. The stallion received a pat for his trouble. A voice drifted to her down the long row, tinged with annoyance.
“Honestly, Antaresia, you’ll be knocking it off or I’ll be having a word with your mother.” The groom, a young man named Vincent, stood with both hands propped upon his hips, glaring at a horse she couldn’t see. Not that she needed to see to know Antaresia was glaring back at him.
“Perhaps her mother came to have a word with her,” she said with a note of dry humor. He didn’t jump, but his mop of brown hair flopped into his eyes when he turned to look at her.
“She misses you,” he said stoutly, and walked away. Well. She wasn’t going to argue with him.
“I know,” she said softly, and went to the stall door.
The red mare with her broken star and snip gave her what could only be described as an indignant stare. “I took a break, just for you,” she said in a wheedling tone, producing a chunk of apple from one of the many pockets on her person. The mare’s ears angled back. “You’re going to have to go easy on me, my girl,” she said. “Things aren’t as they used to be.” A plume of smoke went up as the Nordanner pawed at the floor. “I know. The fairness of it is up for debate. Let’s go for a ride, Resia.” That got her attention. Considering it a moment, Resia bobbed her head, took the proffered apple, and waited for the door to be opened. “That’s my girl,” she murmured, and in no time had the bridle secured. Wasting no time with the saddle as bareback was preferred, she swung to the mare’s back, and gave her a gentle nudge. Two of her personal guard, already perched atop their armored horses, fell in behind her. Long past the annoyance of being followed just about everywhere, she simply handed her staff to Lucian as she passed him, and chose a direction. Away from town seemed best considering the hustle and bustle. Resia snorted. She let out the reins and leaned with the mare as she stretched out into a lope, her stride long and rolling. The world here truly was beautiful.
Hills rose and fell around them, as if someone had forgotten to smooth out the green sheet of grass once they’d laid it down. Trees shaded the dirt path. Birds sang to one another. Different songs from those she’d grown up with, but comforting all the same. Deciding a jaunt to the river and back again was far and pleasant enough to clear her mind, she signaled Resia, and they left the road. Fresh air and the smell of new grass filled her lungs, and she eased back, slowing their pace just to enjoy the landscape. Flowers bobbed gently in the wind created by their passing. Many of them hadn’t yet been named. Somewhere, there had to be locals who would know, yet despite the way their town continued to grow, she had yet to meet any of them. That was mildly concerning at the last, and highly suspicious at best. We haven’t gone far enough, she thought, idly stroking a hand down the mare’s red neck. That’s all. Being Queen did not mean having all the answers. Much as she wished that was the case...shifting her attention back to the living, breathing, impatient soul beneath her, she tugged at the silken mane. “Enjoy the quiet for a moment, will you?” she asked, amusement in her voice. Resia paused to turn her head and give her a long stare. The Queen laughed, shaking her head. They’d been together for so long...her shining red star knew her better than she knew herself, she suspected.
All at once, the air began to change. Darken. The eclipse, she thought, looking up despite herself. She hadn’t quite registered to slow creep of darkness. Magic hummed. The sun dimmed further. When she glanced over her shoulder, the two guards who’d been ranging out along with her were nowhere to be seen. She reached instinctively for her staff, and remembered. Cursing silently, she examined the landscape more closely. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with it. Yet even Anataresia stood stock-still, staring, a quiver running down her spine and back up again. Knowing she had no real weapon put her at a grave disadvantage, for she was not yet adept at using magic with her bare hands. But Resia was a warhorse, and a weapon in her own right. Drawing the small knife tucked away at her belt, she gripped it in one hand and kept the reins light with the other. It had been a long time since they’d fought together. Perhaps it was like riding a bike. The moon edged over the sun. She knew it only because the land was plunged into darkness, and the stars suddenly blazed overhead. Pressure like a physical weight settled over her skin.
Fire smoldered beneath the mare’s hooves, a quiet, deadly heat without blinding light.
A piece of shadow detached from the night, and a horse with the mane and tail of the moon’s glow stepped into full view.
“Barachiel.”
She breathed his name unbidden. His faceplate shone fiercely. A long scratch went from the nose to his brilliant, shimmering eye, and her heart paused in its beating.
“The time I have is short,” he said. “Listen well.” His voice rolled like thunder from the broad chest, rich and deep. Behind him, his slender head tilted toward the sky, stood his brother, marked by his smattering of stars and what may well have been entire galaxies spilling from his body.
“Stars above,” she whispered. Vahnex. The Elder God offered no conversation, nor did he glance in their direction, for his attention was focused solely on the moon, and the way it hung suspended in front of the sun. Power vibrated all around him. Her bones ached in response.
“A barrier hangs in the sky,” Barachiel said. Anger spiked from him. “A battle comes. I am unable to be your shield. By our Will, you were saved. By your own Will, you must live.”
The pressure deepened. Air refused to fully fill her lungs. Beneath her, Resia made a sound, standing firm, but her legs had begun to shake. From out of nothing came two wands. One shone brightly, carved from something white and brilliant, purple fire blooming from the tip as it hovered, supported by nothing. The other...if an object could quiver with rage, this one did. Though it was a wand just as the first, red fire glowed fiercely, daring someone to touch it. Both landed at Resia’s feet. The mare did not budge. Her ears twitched.
“I give you the power to draw upon what is ours. Do so with caution, and do not forget: everything comes with a price.”
“I will remember,” she said, though she didn’t know how. “Thank you, Barachiel.” A barrier...a war. Her mind scrambled to process too many things at once. Vahnex. Not one God, but two. Had such a thing ever been witnessed by mortal eyes? Around them, magic hissed a warning. Barachiel took a step forward and lowered his head, touching his muzzle to Antaresia’s.
“Live,” he said, the word somehow both an order, and a plea. Her nostrils flared. Something like moondust filled her lungs. She did not cough. His eyes lifted to the woman astride the red mare, and she felt suddenly very, very small indeed. “Protect what is Mine, where I cannot.” Even the Gods can’t stand at our side against what is to come. How on earth will I do that?! She hadn’t thought it possible, yet his gaze intensified. “He is here, Queen Alora. You will do what is necessary. Or you will lose another home.” And everything that came with it. The vision was fierce, and terrible. Fire tore great rents in the earth. The castle crumbled into dust. Teeth and claws flashed. The horses screamed.
It was as if Resia heard, for she rose up on her back legs and returned the challenge, fire blazing up around them. Vahnex turned his head. Time stretched. Everything simply...paused.
Barachiel took a step back, and sunlight began to splinter around the moon. “Wait,” she said. “If we can lower the barrier…” An infinite sort of sadness rolled from him in a wave that brought tears to her eyes.
“Other forces are at work,” he said. “Your battle is not the only one. This shield...I suspect he did not intend it, yet it protects you from what lies above. I fight against what you cannot see. If you fail, you will all perish. If I fail…”
“Do not dwell.” If a star could speak, Alora highly suspected it would sound exactly like Vahnex. His voice crackled with otherwordly fire. “Too many futures lie ahead. Our time here is at its end.” The moon crept further from the sun. The stars began to fade.
“Thank you,” she said, because it seemed proper. Heaven help us. Ah, wait. Heaven had done all it could. Barachiel inclined his head, and began to disappear from sight. Vahnex simply vanished in a gust of stars and moondust.
The world gave a sigh.
She slid from Resia’s back. Sunlight bloomed, fresh and new, but the air was cold. Dropping to one knee, she picked up the wands. One felt positively cheerful against her skin, and the other stubbornly sullen. “Well,” she said. The mare lowered her head, caught somewhere between exhaustion and fear. Standing straight, cradling the wands in one arm, she laid her free hand on the warhorse’s neck. “To war, then,” she murmured. With an enemy as yet unidentified, who possessed the power to block the very Gods from the sky. And what, exactly, was Barachiel fighting against up there? Indeed, what had the power to score his armor? No one who’d ever seen him had ever, ever recorded such a thing. Yet she had been tasked with protecting them, though she would have done so regardless. The sound of thunder reached her ears as the guardsmen, who’d apparently been rather frantic when she and her horse had vanished, came galloping to her side.
To war. The thought echoed. She hardly heard their voices. To war.
Fans stirred the air. Papers rustled with the faint breeze. Yet another page began creeping toward the edge of her desk. The Queen gave it a dark look and once again moved the horsehead-shaped paperweight. Summer clung to the world with long, hot fingers, and she was ready for cooler temperatures. None of her papers ever tried to jump into the fireplace, but they did seem to have a strange fondness for the balcony. Or maybe it was her own wishful thinking, since that was where she’d rather have been as well. It was one of her favorite places when she couldn’t make it down to the barn, which happened more and more often. “There’s much to do,” she told the paperweight. Its emerald eye glittered in what she imagined was reproach. “Well, there is,” she said defensively. “Planning, budgeting, damage control--Aleria is still new to us, you know, and then there’s the magic to think of, and…oh, don’t look at me like that.” At least nobody was there to wonder who on earth she was talking to. What would she say? Don’t mind me, Fergus, the paperweight is giving me sass. Truthfully, things were going well. Too well, almost. It was her job to worry about such matters, and she did so with great finesse. Nordanners continued to explore the possibilities of magic, and their new home continued to grow. Buildings of fine stone crept into the sky, tentatively testing the apparent peace. But the Gods hadn’t given them magic and Familiars for no reason.
So she worried. And wondered. Though the parade had wound down, a rousing success stuffed to the brim with enthusiastic citizens (and peafowls!), the streets still bustled with activity. The astronomers predicted a solar eclipse would soon be upon them, and many of those who had traveled far for the event stuck around to see what else might happen. Indeed, celestial events could be quite...interesting, in worlds spilling over with magic. Signing quick approval on the request before her, she got up, retrieved her staff from the corner, and allowed herself the time to visit the horses. Many of them were turned out into the rolling pastures. The palace had always boasted the finest stock, and it was no different in Aleria. Shiny coats and high spirits marked almost every horse, and she admired them in the same way she had when she was young, and had first laid eyes upon a Nordanner. As she stepped into the barn, a midnight-black nose popped over the closest door to greet her. The stallion received a pat for his trouble. A voice drifted to her down the long row, tinged with annoyance.
“Honestly, Antaresia, you’ll be knocking it off or I’ll be having a word with your mother.” The groom, a young man named Vincent, stood with both hands propped upon his hips, glaring at a horse she couldn’t see. Not that she needed to see to know Antaresia was glaring back at him.
“Perhaps her mother came to have a word with her,” she said with a note of dry humor. He didn’t jump, but his mop of brown hair flopped into his eyes when he turned to look at her.
“She misses you,” he said stoutly, and walked away. Well. She wasn’t going to argue with him.
“I know,” she said softly, and went to the stall door.
The red mare with her broken star and snip gave her what could only be described as an indignant stare. “I took a break, just for you,” she said in a wheedling tone, producing a chunk of apple from one of the many pockets on her person. The mare’s ears angled back. “You’re going to have to go easy on me, my girl,” she said. “Things aren’t as they used to be.” A plume of smoke went up as the Nordanner pawed at the floor. “I know. The fairness of it is up for debate. Let’s go for a ride, Resia.” That got her attention. Considering it a moment, Resia bobbed her head, took the proffered apple, and waited for the door to be opened. “That’s my girl,” she murmured, and in no time had the bridle secured. Wasting no time with the saddle as bareback was preferred, she swung to the mare’s back, and gave her a gentle nudge. Two of her personal guard, already perched atop their armored horses, fell in behind her. Long past the annoyance of being followed just about everywhere, she simply handed her staff to Lucian as she passed him, and chose a direction. Away from town seemed best considering the hustle and bustle. Resia snorted. She let out the reins and leaned with the mare as she stretched out into a lope, her stride long and rolling. The world here truly was beautiful.
Hills rose and fell around them, as if someone had forgotten to smooth out the green sheet of grass once they’d laid it down. Trees shaded the dirt path. Birds sang to one another. Different songs from those she’d grown up with, but comforting all the same. Deciding a jaunt to the river and back again was far and pleasant enough to clear her mind, she signaled Resia, and they left the road. Fresh air and the smell of new grass filled her lungs, and she eased back, slowing their pace just to enjoy the landscape. Flowers bobbed gently in the wind created by their passing. Many of them hadn’t yet been named. Somewhere, there had to be locals who would know, yet despite the way their town continued to grow, she had yet to meet any of them. That was mildly concerning at the last, and highly suspicious at best. We haven’t gone far enough, she thought, idly stroking a hand down the mare’s red neck. That’s all. Being Queen did not mean having all the answers. Much as she wished that was the case...shifting her attention back to the living, breathing, impatient soul beneath her, she tugged at the silken mane. “Enjoy the quiet for a moment, will you?” she asked, amusement in her voice. Resia paused to turn her head and give her a long stare. The Queen laughed, shaking her head. They’d been together for so long...her shining red star knew her better than she knew herself, she suspected.
All at once, the air began to change. Darken. The eclipse, she thought, looking up despite herself. She hadn’t quite registered to slow creep of darkness. Magic hummed. The sun dimmed further. When she glanced over her shoulder, the two guards who’d been ranging out along with her were nowhere to be seen. She reached instinctively for her staff, and remembered. Cursing silently, she examined the landscape more closely. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with it. Yet even Anataresia stood stock-still, staring, a quiver running down her spine and back up again. Knowing she had no real weapon put her at a grave disadvantage, for she was not yet adept at using magic with her bare hands. But Resia was a warhorse, and a weapon in her own right. Drawing the small knife tucked away at her belt, she gripped it in one hand and kept the reins light with the other. It had been a long time since they’d fought together. Perhaps it was like riding a bike. The moon edged over the sun. She knew it only because the land was plunged into darkness, and the stars suddenly blazed overhead. Pressure like a physical weight settled over her skin.
Fire smoldered beneath the mare’s hooves, a quiet, deadly heat without blinding light.
A piece of shadow detached from the night, and a horse with the mane and tail of the moon’s glow stepped into full view.
“Barachiel.”
She breathed his name unbidden. His faceplate shone fiercely. A long scratch went from the nose to his brilliant, shimmering eye, and her heart paused in its beating.
“The time I have is short,” he said. “Listen well.” His voice rolled like thunder from the broad chest, rich and deep. Behind him, his slender head tilted toward the sky, stood his brother, marked by his smattering of stars and what may well have been entire galaxies spilling from his body.
“Stars above,” she whispered. Vahnex. The Elder God offered no conversation, nor did he glance in their direction, for his attention was focused solely on the moon, and the way it hung suspended in front of the sun. Power vibrated all around him. Her bones ached in response.
“A barrier hangs in the sky,” Barachiel said. Anger spiked from him. “A battle comes. I am unable to be your shield. By our Will, you were saved. By your own Will, you must live.”
The pressure deepened. Air refused to fully fill her lungs. Beneath her, Resia made a sound, standing firm, but her legs had begun to shake. From out of nothing came two wands. One shone brightly, carved from something white and brilliant, purple fire blooming from the tip as it hovered, supported by nothing. The other...if an object could quiver with rage, this one did. Though it was a wand just as the first, red fire glowed fiercely, daring someone to touch it. Both landed at Resia’s feet. The mare did not budge. Her ears twitched.
“I give you the power to draw upon what is ours. Do so with caution, and do not forget: everything comes with a price.”
“I will remember,” she said, though she didn’t know how. “Thank you, Barachiel.” A barrier...a war. Her mind scrambled to process too many things at once. Vahnex. Not one God, but two. Had such a thing ever been witnessed by mortal eyes? Around them, magic hissed a warning. Barachiel took a step forward and lowered his head, touching his muzzle to Antaresia’s.
“Live,” he said, the word somehow both an order, and a plea. Her nostrils flared. Something like moondust filled her lungs. She did not cough. His eyes lifted to the woman astride the red mare, and she felt suddenly very, very small indeed. “Protect what is Mine, where I cannot.” Even the Gods can’t stand at our side against what is to come. How on earth will I do that?! She hadn’t thought it possible, yet his gaze intensified. “He is here, Queen Alora. You will do what is necessary. Or you will lose another home.” And everything that came with it. The vision was fierce, and terrible. Fire tore great rents in the earth. The castle crumbled into dust. Teeth and claws flashed. The horses screamed.
It was as if Resia heard, for she rose up on her back legs and returned the challenge, fire blazing up around them. Vahnex turned his head. Time stretched. Everything simply...paused.
Barachiel took a step back, and sunlight began to splinter around the moon. “Wait,” she said. “If we can lower the barrier…” An infinite sort of sadness rolled from him in a wave that brought tears to her eyes.
“Other forces are at work,” he said. “Your battle is not the only one. This shield...I suspect he did not intend it, yet it protects you from what lies above. I fight against what you cannot see. If you fail, you will all perish. If I fail…”
“Do not dwell.” If a star could speak, Alora highly suspected it would sound exactly like Vahnex. His voice crackled with otherwordly fire. “Too many futures lie ahead. Our time here is at its end.” The moon crept further from the sun. The stars began to fade.
“Thank you,” she said, because it seemed proper. Heaven help us. Ah, wait. Heaven had done all it could. Barachiel inclined his head, and began to disappear from sight. Vahnex simply vanished in a gust of stars and moondust.
The world gave a sigh.
She slid from Resia’s back. Sunlight bloomed, fresh and new, but the air was cold. Dropping to one knee, she picked up the wands. One felt positively cheerful against her skin, and the other stubbornly sullen. “Well,” she said. The mare lowered her head, caught somewhere between exhaustion and fear. Standing straight, cradling the wands in one arm, she laid her free hand on the warhorse’s neck. “To war, then,” she murmured. With an enemy as yet unidentified, who possessed the power to block the very Gods from the sky. And what, exactly, was Barachiel fighting against up there? Indeed, what had the power to score his armor? No one who’d ever seen him had ever, ever recorded such a thing. Yet she had been tasked with protecting them, though she would have done so regardless. The sound of thunder reached her ears as the guardsmen, who’d apparently been rather frantic when she and her horse had vanished, came galloping to her side.
To war. The thought echoed. She hardly heard their voices. To war.
Chapter 2: What’s To Come?
Written by Cloudrunner64 – 02 September 2018
It had only been a month. One month between the letters being sent out to the first time a creature made its way into the walls. They had seen the odd one or two outside the perimeter; A vlyth here and there, the odd swamp mule, but nothing a few arrows couldn't handle. It seemed like those days were behind them.
There had been reports of more and more monsters wreaking havoc in the more coastal towns, the creatures making their way inland. Whole villages had been lost, their locals unable to keep them at bay. The army would have to disband and face the wave of darkness head-on. The more grounds the darkness consumed the stronger it seemed to become.
Edmund sat around a table, the queen to his left, and some of his top generals sat before them.
“We must split our forces, half stay here to protect the capital and our farms. The other half spread to the coast… try to push them back” He suggested, his hands trailing over the map on the table in front of them.
“If they get to our farms…” Alora’s voice trailed off. “Our reserves won't last long. It isn't an option. The longer we sit here waiting for them to come to us, the most of our homeland we lose. We must take the fight to them.”
The generals sat and nodded, understanding the task at hand. They had learned some valuable lessons about their opponents, but none of them felt prepared to take the fight to them. But, what choice did they have? It was now or never.
It had only been a month. One month between the letters being sent out to the first time a creature made its way into the walls. They had seen the odd one or two outside the perimeter; A vlyth here and there, the odd swamp mule, but nothing a few arrows couldn't handle. It seemed like those days were behind them.
There had been reports of more and more monsters wreaking havoc in the more coastal towns, the creatures making their way inland. Whole villages had been lost, their locals unable to keep them at bay. The army would have to disband and face the wave of darkness head-on. The more grounds the darkness consumed the stronger it seemed to become.
Edmund sat around a table, the queen to his left, and some of his top generals sat before them.
“We must split our forces, half stay here to protect the capital and our farms. The other half spread to the coast… try to push them back” He suggested, his hands trailing over the map on the table in front of them.
“If they get to our farms…” Alora’s voice trailed off. “Our reserves won't last long. It isn't an option. The longer we sit here waiting for them to come to us, the most of our homeland we lose. We must take the fight to them.”
The generals sat and nodded, understanding the task at hand. They had learned some valuable lessons about their opponents, but none of them felt prepared to take the fight to them. But, what choice did they have? It was now or never.
Chapter 3: And The Sun Will Set For You
Written by HoT-Stables – 27 October 2018
It had been a few weeks since the last attack on her generals. The Queen had been actively seeking homes for the remaining generals, it just wasn’t safe inside the castle walls for her old warriors anymore. She sat at her desk, eyes trailing out of her window and down to the stables below.
The attacks on the castle had become more and more frequent… she had doubled her guard but still, they got in. They got in and terrorized her staff, destroyed their homes, their food reserves., anything they could get their hands on. The kicker though… nobody ever saw them coming. Not until they were right in front of their faces. Tonight would be no different.
Alora saw them. Her guards ran across the courtyard, the grounds erupting in panic. At the edge of her grounds a figure loomed. A man sat with pride atop an enormous black steed, dark purple smoke seemed to manifest around them. Before him stood five Nordanners, but she couldn't tell exactly who they were from where she now stood frantically at the edge of her balcony.
A purple glimmer caught her eye. Griffin. One of them was Griffin. His wings, they laid drooped at his side, lifeless. She could do nothing but watch as the unknown man turned and fled, her generals following him willingly. The queen turned on her heels and flew through the castle. “Follow them!” She ordered, panic clear in her voice. And follow them they did. The news spread like wildfire, and before long a search party had gathered.
The group gathered at the edge of the forest where the looming creatures had last been seen. The sun was setting quickly, they had no time to waste. The path leading into the forest split off in two directions. The first was wide and looked well traveled; in the distance one guard thought he could see cloth hanging from one of the blankets, almost as if one of the Generals rugs had gotten torn. The second path was much more narrow, the underbrush overgrown. Even so, branches were snapped, the greenery trampled. Somebody had been down this path, and recently. They decide it would be unsafe to split up, as they have already lost the lives of 2 generals already... They didn't want to risk more.
The group bickers back and forth for what seemed like a decade. Alora had had enough, atop her white steed she started down the narrow path; Edmund and the group followed behind, single file. The path was definitely not wide enough to march grouped up. They moved quickly, despite being assaulted by stray branches and foliage. Eventually the path widened out again, and their trail went cold.
There were no new signs, they couldn't see any more cloth, no footprints, no broken branches. Nothing. The group kept moving onwards, they had no choice. It was better to go in one direction than to just stay in the same spot. But then they spotted it. Or rather, it spotted them. The forest was dense, it was difficult to see what may lie in the cover of the trees. But its eyes, they were bright. They gave it away.
A low, guttural growl sounded as the creature moved towards the group, emerging to reveal a creature unlike anything they had seen before. It was a dragon, but it wasn't. It's body emitted the same billowing smoke that the man had earlier that night. Fight or Flight fled through Alora's mind just for a split second... But before she could give the order, it seemed the group had chosen for her. Her guards had raised what feasible weapons they had to face the creature. It's head lowered, eyes locked on the Queen. They stood firm, watching as the beast crept towards them. Edmund raised an arrow to his bow before looking to Alora for approval. She nodded and he let the arrow fly.
Edmund's arrow flew what seemed like absolute silence; his arrow could be heard from one end of the forest to the other.
The arrow's edge was engulfed in a cloud of smoke, lifting up into the night sky. Before the arrow had a chance to pierce through the creature, it was gone. Almost as fast as it appeared.
The forest was silent still, no movement no forest creatures. The unease about this forest, one they knew all too well and ventured in daily, continued to grow. It felt like they had been out for hours, seeing nothing but trees. No sign of their Generals. And still, they kept on. The further they walked, the more sparse the trees became, eventually leading to an opening.
On the other side of the field there was a cliff, a dim light glowing from a cave at it’s base. They entered the cave, its ceilings were tall and walkways wide.
Alora glanced at the floor, she could see dots of blood trailing off down a path to the right. At that moment a voice sounded… a voice, sounding familiar and welcoming, almost too much so, echoed off of the stone walls “Are you looking for Griffin, Alora? He is this way…. Follow me”. down the path to the left.
The voice, it was... off... Alora couldn't put her finger on it. The group looked at one another, and then down the left pathway once more. Edmund shook his head and knelt, examining the crimson liquid in front of him. "My Queen, I do think it's best to follow the evidence we have in front of us. We shouldn't lurk too long here, we probably aren't welcomed in whomever's home this happens to be... They are calling Griffin by name... We should hurry."
"To the right, follow the blood." She said sternly while giving her steed a light tap with her heels. As the group entered the right path, the voice echoed again.
"to the right..."
The pack walks down twisted hallways making note of any trails they see, their stomachs turning with worry the more they find. One guard motions off to the left, he didn't say a word. He had motioned to a little branch off the path, at the end of that path it widened and opened into a room. They could see more light, flickering, though no draft to flicker flames.
Edmund goes first, next in line is the Queen followed by her guards coming in by twos and threes. What they were greeted with stopped them dead in their tracks. The cavern inside looked almost man made but no real signs of chisel marks could be seen on the walls. Before them stood a small group of horses that donned the royal blankets, but they weren’t Nordanners that the Queen recognized as her own. Their coats were dark, while devilish markings covered their faces. Alora looked at one of the Nordanners, whose eyes were staring back at her, familiar checkered markings on her cheeks. “Fragment….” the Queen whispered in disbelief, her eyes welling up. What had they done to her?
Almost immediately after, the same voice could be heard once more, muttering the mares name, over and over again.
“Fragment,
Fragment,
Fragment”.
A small pack of Shadowstalkers emerged from between the three living horses, creeping slowly towards the guards. “Fragment” “fragment” “FRaGMEnT” the pack continued to repeat. As they drew nearer, blood was visible, almost glowing on their fur. A dark purple smoke was evaporating from the blood.
Edmund threw himself in front of Alora while drawing his bow. In the same instant, through the pack of shadowy figures Alora spotted feathers.
Purple feathers. Glittering feathers.
As the pack of Shadowstalkers crept forward, the horses shifted. Almost perfectly. In Alora’s line of sight she could make out a fully formed wing. Her eyes followed the wing up towards the body of the creature. The more she looked, the more blood she saw. As the horses continued to shift she saw horror.
Griffin’s head was no more.
It was gone. Bloody aftermath was left in its place. Alora’s eyes filled with tears, both in sorrow and complete anger. She stood there, staring as Edmund and her guards did what they could to fend off the shadowstalkers for the time being. They ran off to the corner of the room, hiding in the darkness behind the carnage.
She trembled, flinching as Edmund laid his hand on her shoulder. “We need to get these horses out of here… it isn't safe”
She shook her head. "No. Somebody did this. He did this. He had to pay for what he did" she demanded as she threw Edmund's hand off of her. "Alora, you aren't thinking straight." He moved towards, attaching a lead rope to the first unknown horse's halter. Two other members of the group took Fragment and the other now identified as Balthazar. “Quickly now, we have to get out of here” Edmund spoke softly as he turned.
They turned to exit the cavern but their path was blocked at the doorway. Alora recognized the figure blocking their path - it was the black stallion that she had seen the man on while fleeing from their castle. The stallion; huge, made from a smoke that was not earthly. Almost made of shadows. A freshly harvested skull sat atop his face, while looming from the sockets lurked white glowing eyes.
He took large steps forward, the bottoms of his legs never left the ground; shadows formed and dissipated while the figure swept closer.
“This is the end for you, Alora…”
His mouth did not move as he spoke; the deep voice ran through their heads. Seemingly just created from nothing, but stung their souls. As the figure swept closer, a figure of the man who rode atop could be seen standing behind him. Alora squinted, attempting to see his face.
In an instant, the entire room filled with darkness - almost like a void had taken everything away. The group sat in darkness for what seemed like years, even though only seconds had passed. Alora suddenly grew familiar of this darkness.
“Bara--”
“VRAMIEN”
A voice boomed; it rattled the walls of the surrounding cavern. As fast as the light faded, the room filled with blinding, powerful light, created with the forces of the gods.
“Barachiel… I knew you’d make an appearance at some point” the stallion's voice mocked. If a voice could have a smirk, that was definitely it. “I have a present for you… I’m sure you remember Swadic, don’t you? Or have you forgotten about destroying his entire kingdom. Surely you haven’t, all mighty Barachiel….”
Barachiel’s light began to intensify; it began to burn.
Edmund realized this was their way out, this demon known as Vramien was distracted. He grabbed the lead ropes and motioned to the group to follow him. The crowd ran back through the halls, the light seem to follow them, burning at their backs more and more with each step taken.
As they ran through the exit, as fast as the light came, it was gone. The burning was gone. Barachiel was gone. The group hopped aboard their steeds, Alora looked back towards the entrance of the cave, worried about her god’s existence. Her fear intensified as shadows could be seen coming from the entrance.
“To the Kingdom. Don’t stop for anything.” Edmund yelled.
It had been a few weeks since the last attack on her generals. The Queen had been actively seeking homes for the remaining generals, it just wasn’t safe inside the castle walls for her old warriors anymore. She sat at her desk, eyes trailing out of her window and down to the stables below.
The attacks on the castle had become more and more frequent… she had doubled her guard but still, they got in. They got in and terrorized her staff, destroyed their homes, their food reserves., anything they could get their hands on. The kicker though… nobody ever saw them coming. Not until they were right in front of their faces. Tonight would be no different.
Alora saw them. Her guards ran across the courtyard, the grounds erupting in panic. At the edge of her grounds a figure loomed. A man sat with pride atop an enormous black steed, dark purple smoke seemed to manifest around them. Before him stood five Nordanners, but she couldn't tell exactly who they were from where she now stood frantically at the edge of her balcony.
A purple glimmer caught her eye. Griffin. One of them was Griffin. His wings, they laid drooped at his side, lifeless. She could do nothing but watch as the unknown man turned and fled, her generals following him willingly. The queen turned on her heels and flew through the castle. “Follow them!” She ordered, panic clear in her voice. And follow them they did. The news spread like wildfire, and before long a search party had gathered.
The group gathered at the edge of the forest where the looming creatures had last been seen. The sun was setting quickly, they had no time to waste. The path leading into the forest split off in two directions. The first was wide and looked well traveled; in the distance one guard thought he could see cloth hanging from one of the blankets, almost as if one of the Generals rugs had gotten torn. The second path was much more narrow, the underbrush overgrown. Even so, branches were snapped, the greenery trampled. Somebody had been down this path, and recently. They decide it would be unsafe to split up, as they have already lost the lives of 2 generals already... They didn't want to risk more.
The group bickers back and forth for what seemed like a decade. Alora had had enough, atop her white steed she started down the narrow path; Edmund and the group followed behind, single file. The path was definitely not wide enough to march grouped up. They moved quickly, despite being assaulted by stray branches and foliage. Eventually the path widened out again, and their trail went cold.
There were no new signs, they couldn't see any more cloth, no footprints, no broken branches. Nothing. The group kept moving onwards, they had no choice. It was better to go in one direction than to just stay in the same spot. But then they spotted it. Or rather, it spotted them. The forest was dense, it was difficult to see what may lie in the cover of the trees. But its eyes, they were bright. They gave it away.
A low, guttural growl sounded as the creature moved towards the group, emerging to reveal a creature unlike anything they had seen before. It was a dragon, but it wasn't. It's body emitted the same billowing smoke that the man had earlier that night. Fight or Flight fled through Alora's mind just for a split second... But before she could give the order, it seemed the group had chosen for her. Her guards had raised what feasible weapons they had to face the creature. It's head lowered, eyes locked on the Queen. They stood firm, watching as the beast crept towards them. Edmund raised an arrow to his bow before looking to Alora for approval. She nodded and he let the arrow fly.
Edmund's arrow flew what seemed like absolute silence; his arrow could be heard from one end of the forest to the other.
The arrow's edge was engulfed in a cloud of smoke, lifting up into the night sky. Before the arrow had a chance to pierce through the creature, it was gone. Almost as fast as it appeared.
The forest was silent still, no movement no forest creatures. The unease about this forest, one they knew all too well and ventured in daily, continued to grow. It felt like they had been out for hours, seeing nothing but trees. No sign of their Generals. And still, they kept on. The further they walked, the more sparse the trees became, eventually leading to an opening.
On the other side of the field there was a cliff, a dim light glowing from a cave at it’s base. They entered the cave, its ceilings were tall and walkways wide.
Alora glanced at the floor, she could see dots of blood trailing off down a path to the right. At that moment a voice sounded… a voice, sounding familiar and welcoming, almost too much so, echoed off of the stone walls “Are you looking for Griffin, Alora? He is this way…. Follow me”. down the path to the left.
The voice, it was... off... Alora couldn't put her finger on it. The group looked at one another, and then down the left pathway once more. Edmund shook his head and knelt, examining the crimson liquid in front of him. "My Queen, I do think it's best to follow the evidence we have in front of us. We shouldn't lurk too long here, we probably aren't welcomed in whomever's home this happens to be... They are calling Griffin by name... We should hurry."
"To the right, follow the blood." She said sternly while giving her steed a light tap with her heels. As the group entered the right path, the voice echoed again.
"to the right..."
The pack walks down twisted hallways making note of any trails they see, their stomachs turning with worry the more they find. One guard motions off to the left, he didn't say a word. He had motioned to a little branch off the path, at the end of that path it widened and opened into a room. They could see more light, flickering, though no draft to flicker flames.
Edmund goes first, next in line is the Queen followed by her guards coming in by twos and threes. What they were greeted with stopped them dead in their tracks. The cavern inside looked almost man made but no real signs of chisel marks could be seen on the walls. Before them stood a small group of horses that donned the royal blankets, but they weren’t Nordanners that the Queen recognized as her own. Their coats were dark, while devilish markings covered their faces. Alora looked at one of the Nordanners, whose eyes were staring back at her, familiar checkered markings on her cheeks. “Fragment….” the Queen whispered in disbelief, her eyes welling up. What had they done to her?
Almost immediately after, the same voice could be heard once more, muttering the mares name, over and over again.
“Fragment,
Fragment,
Fragment”.
A small pack of Shadowstalkers emerged from between the three living horses, creeping slowly towards the guards. “Fragment” “fragment” “FRaGMEnT” the pack continued to repeat. As they drew nearer, blood was visible, almost glowing on their fur. A dark purple smoke was evaporating from the blood.
Edmund threw himself in front of Alora while drawing his bow. In the same instant, through the pack of shadowy figures Alora spotted feathers.
Purple feathers. Glittering feathers.
As the pack of Shadowstalkers crept forward, the horses shifted. Almost perfectly. In Alora’s line of sight she could make out a fully formed wing. Her eyes followed the wing up towards the body of the creature. The more she looked, the more blood she saw. As the horses continued to shift she saw horror.
Griffin’s head was no more.
It was gone. Bloody aftermath was left in its place. Alora’s eyes filled with tears, both in sorrow and complete anger. She stood there, staring as Edmund and her guards did what they could to fend off the shadowstalkers for the time being. They ran off to the corner of the room, hiding in the darkness behind the carnage.
She trembled, flinching as Edmund laid his hand on her shoulder. “We need to get these horses out of here… it isn't safe”
She shook her head. "No. Somebody did this. He did this. He had to pay for what he did" she demanded as she threw Edmund's hand off of her. "Alora, you aren't thinking straight." He moved towards, attaching a lead rope to the first unknown horse's halter. Two other members of the group took Fragment and the other now identified as Balthazar. “Quickly now, we have to get out of here” Edmund spoke softly as he turned.
They turned to exit the cavern but their path was blocked at the doorway. Alora recognized the figure blocking their path - it was the black stallion that she had seen the man on while fleeing from their castle. The stallion; huge, made from a smoke that was not earthly. Almost made of shadows. A freshly harvested skull sat atop his face, while looming from the sockets lurked white glowing eyes.
He took large steps forward, the bottoms of his legs never left the ground; shadows formed and dissipated while the figure swept closer.
“This is the end for you, Alora…”
His mouth did not move as he spoke; the deep voice ran through their heads. Seemingly just created from nothing, but stung their souls. As the figure swept closer, a figure of the man who rode atop could be seen standing behind him. Alora squinted, attempting to see his face.
In an instant, the entire room filled with darkness - almost like a void had taken everything away. The group sat in darkness for what seemed like years, even though only seconds had passed. Alora suddenly grew familiar of this darkness.
“Bara--”
“VRAMIEN”
A voice boomed; it rattled the walls of the surrounding cavern. As fast as the light faded, the room filled with blinding, powerful light, created with the forces of the gods.
“Barachiel… I knew you’d make an appearance at some point” the stallion's voice mocked. If a voice could have a smirk, that was definitely it. “I have a present for you… I’m sure you remember Swadic, don’t you? Or have you forgotten about destroying his entire kingdom. Surely you haven’t, all mighty Barachiel….”
Barachiel’s light began to intensify; it began to burn.
Edmund realized this was their way out, this demon known as Vramien was distracted. He grabbed the lead ropes and motioned to the group to follow him. The crowd ran back through the halls, the light seem to follow them, burning at their backs more and more with each step taken.
As they ran through the exit, as fast as the light came, it was gone. The burning was gone. Barachiel was gone. The group hopped aboard their steeds, Alora looked back towards the entrance of the cave, worried about her god’s existence. Her fear intensified as shadows could be seen coming from the entrance.
“To the Kingdom. Don’t stop for anything.” Edmund yelled.
Chapter 4: The First Wave
Written by NordannerDesign (unknown admin) – 01 Feb 2019
Murmurs of Griffin’s passing had spread through the kingdom like wildfire. There wasn’t a day where walking past bystanders you wouldn’t catch a whisper of his name.
Weeks had past after the first attack, the first attack that left Balthazar and Fragment… changed. Aleria and their Nordanners would quickly see an influx of this possession in their stables. The citizens took this possession and called it Ortho - it changed other mutations, left unique markings, but left horses still mentally sound. Ortho, despite what it did to their kingdom’s horses, was accepted by Alerian’s people.
Maybe it was the constant reminder, everywhere you look a new Ortho baby… While the citizens were very accepting, the pain losing Griffin didn’t go away so easy. It was brought up everywhere.
While Edmund strolled through the town roads, citizens would hush their conversations as he walked by, turning to look. Most of the town knew the pain that happened that night.
“Hello, Sir” one lady burst out, almost startled by his presence this early on town roads. He strolled over to her booth, selling trinkets, fresh bread, things to get her and her family by. Glittering purple feathers caught his eye. Purple “G” trinkets with feathers attached, fake Griffin feathers. Edmund picked up 2.
The saleswoman began to panic.
“Sir, sir, please… They are just small feathers - memories really - to help our townsfolk move on…” her voice cut off when Edmund’s hand motioned for her silence.
“I’ll take these two” he said softly, giving her 3 gold each. He slipped them into his pocket as a faint smile crept on his face, and walked away.
***
Alora had spent most of the day in the castle. It had been painful to face her citizens. She felt like she had let them down, been a horrible Queen and unable to lead in their time of need.
She stood on her balcony with a glass of Aleria’s finest wine, staring out over an uneasy landscape.
Fires are extinguishing, lights are being put out. The moon, full, shining bright over her crying city.
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
***
Edmund stepped through the hallway quickly, one hand on his sword.
They were back.
He had to tell the queen.
In the beginning, the creatures started off slowly, reports of their attacks spread out across faraway towns, but it did not take them long to reach the castle.
Now they were unrelenting. The surrounding town was pillaged. Almost as the clocks struck twelve, they swarmed the castle gates.
Edmund had called his army back, defend the castle, defend the main city. Even with a wall, Aleria’s cavalry were struggling to hold them off.
"Alora" The greying, stone man spoke as he opened her door. He was not prepared for the scene before him. A dark figure loomed on the balcony, seemingly blocking out all light other than i’ts own glowing red eyes. Vramien, that is what the creatures had been calling him.
Vramien and Swadic. He knew their names, but that was all, why were they here, what did they want and why did they have their hands on his Queen?
The smaller of the two, Swadic, was stood with a dagger to the Queen's throat, one arm holding her tightly around the chest. The panic was clear in Alora's eyes, but she made no effort to fight. What was going on?
"What do you think you are doing?" Edmund growled, unsheathing his sword.
"I wouldn't if I were you" The man spoke through his grin, taking a step back towards the end of the balcony. The darkness was engulfing them. Edmund couldn't just stand there. The General lunged, swinging his sword high, too high to hit the Alora, probably too high to hit the figures. The coward was using his Queen as a shield and there was not much he could do without risk of injuring her.
"Disappointing..." Swadic bellowed, his voice echoing as the darkness surrounded him. With a snap of his shadowed fingers, they were gone.
Edmund dropped his sword, rushing to the edge of the balcony. Even amongst the chaos below, he could see them. The essence of darkness, Vramien, stood as a stallion once more with Swadic and the Queen on his back. He watched as they turned and fled, but this time, the creatures stayed.
In anger, Edmund pushed Alora’s half filled glass of wine out off of the edge of the balcony. His hand brushed through the top of his hair, while he pulled his composure together.
The Queen is has been taken, but Edmund could not plan a rescue mission without at least having control of the Kingdom. They would have to defend the castle, free it from these evil creatures before they could rescue their Queen.
Edmund darted out of Alora’s room, swooping down grabbing his sword on the way out. He spun down the stairs, down the halls and through the main castle doors. He stood in the doorway, raised his sword and bellowed
“FOR ALERIA!”
Murmurs of Griffin’s passing had spread through the kingdom like wildfire. There wasn’t a day where walking past bystanders you wouldn’t catch a whisper of his name.
Weeks had past after the first attack, the first attack that left Balthazar and Fragment… changed. Aleria and their Nordanners would quickly see an influx of this possession in their stables. The citizens took this possession and called it Ortho - it changed other mutations, left unique markings, but left horses still mentally sound. Ortho, despite what it did to their kingdom’s horses, was accepted by Alerian’s people.
Maybe it was the constant reminder, everywhere you look a new Ortho baby… While the citizens were very accepting, the pain losing Griffin didn’t go away so easy. It was brought up everywhere.
While Edmund strolled through the town roads, citizens would hush their conversations as he walked by, turning to look. Most of the town knew the pain that happened that night.
“Hello, Sir” one lady burst out, almost startled by his presence this early on town roads. He strolled over to her booth, selling trinkets, fresh bread, things to get her and her family by. Glittering purple feathers caught his eye. Purple “G” trinkets with feathers attached, fake Griffin feathers. Edmund picked up 2.
The saleswoman began to panic.
“Sir, sir, please… They are just small feathers - memories really - to help our townsfolk move on…” her voice cut off when Edmund’s hand motioned for her silence.
“I’ll take these two” he said softly, giving her 3 gold each. He slipped them into his pocket as a faint smile crept on his face, and walked away.
***
Alora had spent most of the day in the castle. It had been painful to face her citizens. She felt like she had let them down, been a horrible Queen and unable to lead in their time of need.
She stood on her balcony with a glass of Aleria’s finest wine, staring out over an uneasy landscape.
Fires are extinguishing, lights are being put out. The moon, full, shining bright over her crying city.
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
***
Edmund stepped through the hallway quickly, one hand on his sword.
They were back.
He had to tell the queen.
In the beginning, the creatures started off slowly, reports of their attacks spread out across faraway towns, but it did not take them long to reach the castle.
Now they were unrelenting. The surrounding town was pillaged. Almost as the clocks struck twelve, they swarmed the castle gates.
Edmund had called his army back, defend the castle, defend the main city. Even with a wall, Aleria’s cavalry were struggling to hold them off.
"Alora" The greying, stone man spoke as he opened her door. He was not prepared for the scene before him. A dark figure loomed on the balcony, seemingly blocking out all light other than i’ts own glowing red eyes. Vramien, that is what the creatures had been calling him.
Vramien and Swadic. He knew their names, but that was all, why were they here, what did they want and why did they have their hands on his Queen?
The smaller of the two, Swadic, was stood with a dagger to the Queen's throat, one arm holding her tightly around the chest. The panic was clear in Alora's eyes, but she made no effort to fight. What was going on?
"What do you think you are doing?" Edmund growled, unsheathing his sword.
"I wouldn't if I were you" The man spoke through his grin, taking a step back towards the end of the balcony. The darkness was engulfing them. Edmund couldn't just stand there. The General lunged, swinging his sword high, too high to hit the Alora, probably too high to hit the figures. The coward was using his Queen as a shield and there was not much he could do without risk of injuring her.
"Disappointing..." Swadic bellowed, his voice echoing as the darkness surrounded him. With a snap of his shadowed fingers, they were gone.
Edmund dropped his sword, rushing to the edge of the balcony. Even amongst the chaos below, he could see them. The essence of darkness, Vramien, stood as a stallion once more with Swadic and the Queen on his back. He watched as they turned and fled, but this time, the creatures stayed.
In anger, Edmund pushed Alora’s half filled glass of wine out off of the edge of the balcony. His hand brushed through the top of his hair, while he pulled his composure together.
The Queen is has been taken, but Edmund could not plan a rescue mission without at least having control of the Kingdom. They would have to defend the castle, free it from these evil creatures before they could rescue their Queen.
Edmund darted out of Alora’s room, swooping down grabbing his sword on the way out. He spun down the stairs, down the halls and through the main castle doors. He stood in the doorway, raised his sword and bellowed
“FOR ALERIA!”
Retiring Generals
Written by HoT-Stables – 07 March 2018
Since Christmas, there's been a little something going on. Some of you had probably noticed, but others, maybe not so much. The officials gathered at the Queen's palace in much the same way they do every year, usually to exchange gifts, enjoy a grand meal before leaving to spend the holidays with their family. This year was different. The tone was different. The queen had been on edge since her run in with one of the gods, and for good reason. Something was coming. Something was coming, and she had to be prepared.
This year there had been no cheer, no gifts exchanged. One very long, repetitive meeting.
"How long will we have wait for the new troops to be trained?" The queen mumbled to herself, eyes focused on the parchment sat on the table in front of her. Illegible plans scrawled across the page. She looked up at the head of the royal guard, who was rummaging through a stack of files in his lap.
"Their training is going well ma'am... some are progressing faster than others, but they will be ready soon" He explained, hoping the queen would be satisfied with his answer. Their training was going well, that was no lie. But how well could he really train them if he did not know what opponents they would be facing? Dragons are one thing, but who knew what else Aleria was hiding.
When the meeting adjourned the small group of officials moved swiftly through the castle grounds, passing the stables on the way back to their carriages. Snow was dancing, wisping around their feet as they moved with purpose, only slowing to say a final goodbye to the group horses for the winter.
TealMagpie ran her hand across the stall door, cooking at the panda stallion that stood inside. She ran a hand through his mane, giving it a ruffle.
EmeraldTheWoof slumped against the wall beside Maximus' stall, it didn't take him long to lean his head out and nuzzle it into hers.
s1088 grinned as he came to a stop in front of O'Malley. The tabby cocked his head, kicking at the bottom of his stall impatiently.
HoT-Stables strode towards the Zebra stallion, Attila. He was always as eager to see her as she was him.
The queen looked over the group from the other end of the yard, her breath visible in the air as she sighed. She loved each of the group horses dearly, but she knew what must happen. They had each served their time with her, they weren't particularly old, that's for sure, but they weren’t exactly the most practice when it came to hunting. The new recruits would soon be ready, and then it would be time to part with the current members of her herd.
She stood for a second, watching the stress peel away from each of her staff with each passing moment. It was time. She walked slowly, her steps gaining confidence as she approached the first stall. Teal turned her head, watching as the queen lifted Bejing's head collar from its hook. "You've done your time, General. " she spoke, her works clear. The stallion stood still as the queen passed his head collar into place, sliding his stall door open, and handed the lead rope to a very stunned young woman.
She did the same for each of them in turn, passing a hand over the nordanner's manes, patting their shoulders. Royal horses were never intended to life out their days in her stables, but it was never easy to say goodbye.
Behind her she heard some tears, some laughs, which brought a smile to her cheeks. Even in the face of it all, they would not be broken. Her eyes met with a fiery stallion, who looked at her eagerly.
"Don't worry Pi- you aren't going anywhere" she approached the tiger stallion, taking his head in her hands.
They would all be looking for their new homes in due time. The younger ones could be trained, but the majority would soon be selecting their new homes. She wouldn't let them go to just anybody. Only somebody that truly cared for the horse would get the privilege of taking one of the queens generals home.
It never feels the same watching Generals retire; you grow so attached to them around the castle for so long that each goodbye is always different. As upsetting as it is, the fate of Aleria and it's citizens rests on how prepared we all were. New and fresh recruits is one of the things the Queen had to acquire. If only that were the only thing…
////////July 3 2018////////
Training is going... well, its going. For some, better than others. The younger ones are being sent out on missions, exploring the vast lands of the world we haven't encountered yet. While the others rest their aches and pains.
The dragon hunt is coming up, and the Queen's Generals are expected to make appearances. Many of the Generals, old and new, are ready to compete! Ready to prove to Queen Alora that the war to come would end in Victory!
One Mare is growing tired of the castle though, she's ready to settle down. That does not mean she does not have the desire to fight for the Kingdom! Oh no! She's more proud than ever, but she's ready to be loved by one person, not an army.
Since Christmas, there's been a little something going on. Some of you had probably noticed, but others, maybe not so much. The officials gathered at the Queen's palace in much the same way they do every year, usually to exchange gifts, enjoy a grand meal before leaving to spend the holidays with their family. This year was different. The tone was different. The queen had been on edge since her run in with one of the gods, and for good reason. Something was coming. Something was coming, and she had to be prepared.
This year there had been no cheer, no gifts exchanged. One very long, repetitive meeting.
"How long will we have wait for the new troops to be trained?" The queen mumbled to herself, eyes focused on the parchment sat on the table in front of her. Illegible plans scrawled across the page. She looked up at the head of the royal guard, who was rummaging through a stack of files in his lap.
"Their training is going well ma'am... some are progressing faster than others, but they will be ready soon" He explained, hoping the queen would be satisfied with his answer. Their training was going well, that was no lie. But how well could he really train them if he did not know what opponents they would be facing? Dragons are one thing, but who knew what else Aleria was hiding.
When the meeting adjourned the small group of officials moved swiftly through the castle grounds, passing the stables on the way back to their carriages. Snow was dancing, wisping around their feet as they moved with purpose, only slowing to say a final goodbye to the group horses for the winter.
TealMagpie ran her hand across the stall door, cooking at the panda stallion that stood inside. She ran a hand through his mane, giving it a ruffle.
EmeraldTheWoof slumped against the wall beside Maximus' stall, it didn't take him long to lean his head out and nuzzle it into hers.
s1088 grinned as he came to a stop in front of O'Malley. The tabby cocked his head, kicking at the bottom of his stall impatiently.
HoT-Stables strode towards the Zebra stallion, Attila. He was always as eager to see her as she was him.
The queen looked over the group from the other end of the yard, her breath visible in the air as she sighed. She loved each of the group horses dearly, but she knew what must happen. They had each served their time with her, they weren't particularly old, that's for sure, but they weren’t exactly the most practice when it came to hunting. The new recruits would soon be ready, and then it would be time to part with the current members of her herd.
She stood for a second, watching the stress peel away from each of her staff with each passing moment. It was time. She walked slowly, her steps gaining confidence as she approached the first stall. Teal turned her head, watching as the queen lifted Bejing's head collar from its hook. "You've done your time, General. " she spoke, her works clear. The stallion stood still as the queen passed his head collar into place, sliding his stall door open, and handed the lead rope to a very stunned young woman.
She did the same for each of them in turn, passing a hand over the nordanner's manes, patting their shoulders. Royal horses were never intended to life out their days in her stables, but it was never easy to say goodbye.
Behind her she heard some tears, some laughs, which brought a smile to her cheeks. Even in the face of it all, they would not be broken. Her eyes met with a fiery stallion, who looked at her eagerly.
"Don't worry Pi- you aren't going anywhere" she approached the tiger stallion, taking his head in her hands.
They would all be looking for their new homes in due time. The younger ones could be trained, but the majority would soon be selecting their new homes. She wouldn't let them go to just anybody. Only somebody that truly cared for the horse would get the privilege of taking one of the queens generals home.
It never feels the same watching Generals retire; you grow so attached to them around the castle for so long that each goodbye is always different. As upsetting as it is, the fate of Aleria and it's citizens rests on how prepared we all were. New and fresh recruits is one of the things the Queen had to acquire. If only that were the only thing…
////////July 3 2018////////
Training is going... well, its going. For some, better than others. The younger ones are being sent out on missions, exploring the vast lands of the world we haven't encountered yet. While the others rest their aches and pains.
The dragon hunt is coming up, and the Queen's Generals are expected to make appearances. Many of the Generals, old and new, are ready to compete! Ready to prove to Queen Alora that the war to come would end in Victory!
One Mare is growing tired of the castle though, she's ready to settle down. That does not mean she does not have the desire to fight for the Kingdom! Oh no! She's more proud than ever, but she's ready to be loved by one person, not an army.
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1011 Selaina has decided to go home with KAHarder, where she knows she'll find the attention and love she desires.
Selaina will proudly hang her Badge of the Queen's General where ever she travels, not to forget her time spent at the Castle. 
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A140 Oliver
and
////////Sept 19th 2018////////
The time is 10:02am. Queen Alora and her company are all sitting down finishing up breakfast, stained glass windows led in natural light had colours dancing across the table. Laughter and discussions danced across each chair, filled with friends and family. A rare occurrence of peace in this time of conflict.
The doors to the dining area swing open, in the doorway stands a very depressed figure. Edmund walks in, almost floating on a cloud of torment.
"Alora... My Queen..." Edmund paused, the room filled with silence. "There has been an incident regarding 2 of your Generals."
Alora's face dropped. "What do you mean, Edmund? Who? What happened?"
"Oliver our stained glass stallion, and Strawberry Wine our red roan mare... It would seem that a pack of Shadowstalker lions... I can't begin to explain to you the scene that our stable hands walked into today. I don't think you need the gory details, but there is not much left...They are being buried outside under the cherry blossom trees that fill the courtyard. I thought you might... want to come say goodbye." Edmund's voice trailed off.
Alora's eyes filled with tears, she turned away from the table and looked out the long glass window. Her hands pressed against the colours and paused. "And the rest? The stables are safe?"
"For now, but we're not sure how entered... or where they went... Its like there was no trace of them. Just blood." Edmund reluctantly replied.
"We need to fix this. Find them." Alora's cold voice trailed through the now dreary room.
We are sad to report the passing of A140 Oliver and 1028 Strawberry Wine. They will be forever remembered under the cherry blossom trees in the Queen's Courtyard.
and
////////Sept 19th 2018////////
The time is 10:02am. Queen Alora and her company are all sitting down finishing up breakfast, stained glass windows led in natural light had colours dancing across the table. Laughter and discussions danced across each chair, filled with friends and family. A rare occurrence of peace in this time of conflict.
The doors to the dining area swing open, in the doorway stands a very depressed figure. Edmund walks in, almost floating on a cloud of torment.
"Alora... My Queen..." Edmund paused, the room filled with silence. "There has been an incident regarding 2 of your Generals."
Alora's face dropped. "What do you mean, Edmund? Who? What happened?"
"Oliver our stained glass stallion, and Strawberry Wine our red roan mare... It would seem that a pack of Shadowstalker lions... I can't begin to explain to you the scene that our stable hands walked into today. I don't think you need the gory details, but there is not much left...They are being buried outside under the cherry blossom trees that fill the courtyard. I thought you might... want to come say goodbye." Edmund's voice trailed off.
Alora's eyes filled with tears, she turned away from the table and looked out the long glass window. Her hands pressed against the colours and paused. "And the rest? The stables are safe?"
"For now, but we're not sure how entered... or where they went... Its like there was no trace of them. Just blood." Edmund reluctantly replied.
"We need to fix this. Find them." Alora's cold voice trailed through the now dreary room.
We are sad to report the passing of A140 Oliver and 1028 Strawberry Wine. They will be forever remembered under the cherry blossom trees in the Queen's Courtyard.
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Hours later, Alora made her way down to the stables. The scene had been cleaned, and the staff had been sent home for the day. She would not have them do their regular duties after cleaning up the mess that once was their beloved horses. She paced in front of 4 specific horses. She worried, always. Were the ready? Were any of them ready? To Alora, she wanted the ones who weren't to have a home. Safe and sound. But if her home wasn't even safe, where would they be?
Edmund interrupted her pacing. "Queen, if you're worried about these 4---" Alora put up her hand to silence Edmund. "Eddy, I am not worried." she said sternly, clearly lying, "I have decided to let these 4 pick their new homes. They are all precious, but these 4 have people that have been attending to them. I... I just want them to be safe. In a land that is under attack, nothing can be..." her voice trailed.
She grabbed 4 specific halters with gold name plates. Her thumb ran over each one separately.
1001 Brutus
1010 Nebula
1013 Nakita
1035 Alastor
She walked up to each stall and put the respective halter on. "You may be strong, and you may be useful in this war, but you are important. You are important to someone special, and you deserve that as much as they deserve you." She whispered to Brutus. "All of them... No one is safe here..." She stood next to Alastor and ran her hand through his mane. "Send out the letters, Eddy... come have their new owners pick them up."
"As you wish, my Queen." Edmund strutted off with his hands behind his back towards the barracks.
4 New generals have found their forever homes...
Edmund interrupted her pacing. "Queen, if you're worried about these 4---" Alora put up her hand to silence Edmund. "Eddy, I am not worried." she said sternly, clearly lying, "I have decided to let these 4 pick their new homes. They are all precious, but these 4 have people that have been attending to them. I... I just want them to be safe. In a land that is under attack, nothing can be..." her voice trailed.
She grabbed 4 specific halters with gold name plates. Her thumb ran over each one separately.
1001 Brutus
1010 Nebula
1013 Nakita
1035 Alastor
She walked up to each stall and put the respective halter on. "You may be strong, and you may be useful in this war, but you are important. You are important to someone special, and you deserve that as much as they deserve you." She whispered to Brutus. "All of them... No one is safe here..." She stood next to Alastor and ran her hand through his mane. "Send out the letters, Eddy... come have their new owners pick them up."
"As you wish, my Queen." Edmund strutted off with his hands behind his back towards the barracks.
4 New generals have found their forever homes...
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1001 Brutus will be retiring with RaffiqueArt
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1010 Nebula will be retiring with Kryptic-norddivision
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1013 Nakita will be retiring with chibrule
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1035 Alastor will be retiring with equ1ne
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////////April 7th 2019////////
While attending to the daily duties, the staff found Saxxon collapsed in his stall. They had gotten to him too late, he had passed. Saxxon was a great horse, but did not do to well in stressful situations. The impact this war had on him was far too great for his heart to handle.
We are sad to report the passing of:
While attending to the daily duties, the staff found Saxxon collapsed in his stall. They had gotten to him too late, he had passed. Saxxon was a great horse, but did not do to well in stressful situations. The impact this war had on him was far too great for his heart to handle.
We are sad to report the passing of:
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1041 Saxxon
He will be forever remembered under the cherry blossom trees in the Queen's Courtyard. |
Locals had come in to help the Queen's staff take care of their royal stables. In doing so, two wonderfully coloured horses had decided their own forever homes. Gazebo grew very fondly of QuartzStag, and cried out whenever they left. Lunesta continued to escape her stall and would only behave when Sarengale was around. Alora had taken note of this behavior and the next time the two volunteered to help, handed them both over.
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1019 Gazebo will be retiring with QuartzStag
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Lunesta
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////////Feb 2nd 2019////////
The courtyard was a mess. The Queen had been captured, Edmund was struggling to get the kingdom in order.
He made his way to the stables, it was a gruesome sight... Horses were panicking in their stalls, in their pens, the paddocks were going nuts.
Edmund saw Sharp Shooter first. The sight of Astrolab came second. There were screams all around him. The most noticeable and recent came from the paddocks just around the barn; the frostsplashs were under attack.
He spun through the stables and darted left where he saw Dutchess under fire from a giant black bird known around the kingdom as an Estorn, protecting her mate Cavalier who lay lifeless on the ground.
Edmund sprung into action, throwing the paddock door calling for the hurt mare, knowing that if the bird's attention could be distracted for just one second, she could escape.
Edmund's attention was distracted by two naturals that had broken out of their paddock; they nearly trampled him as they ran for fear. He darted backwards to avoid the thundering hooves. In that split second, Dutchess had managed to escape her round pen, Edmund saw her join the Agis mare before they were engulfed in the darkness of the night.
We are sad to report the passing of: 1042 Sharp Shooter, 1014 Astrolab, and 1015 Cavalier.
They will be forever remembered under the cherry blossom trees in the Queen's Courtyard.
The courtyard was a mess. The Queen had been captured, Edmund was struggling to get the kingdom in order.
He made his way to the stables, it was a gruesome sight... Horses were panicking in their stalls, in their pens, the paddocks were going nuts.
Edmund saw Sharp Shooter first. The sight of Astrolab came second. There were screams all around him. The most noticeable and recent came from the paddocks just around the barn; the frostsplashs were under attack.
He spun through the stables and darted left where he saw Dutchess under fire from a giant black bird known around the kingdom as an Estorn, protecting her mate Cavalier who lay lifeless on the ground.
Edmund sprung into action, throwing the paddock door calling for the hurt mare, knowing that if the bird's attention could be distracted for just one second, she could escape.
Edmund's attention was distracted by two naturals that had broken out of their paddock; they nearly trampled him as they ran for fear. He darted backwards to avoid the thundering hooves. In that split second, Dutchess had managed to escape her round pen, Edmund saw her join the Agis mare before they were engulfed in the darkness of the night.
We are sad to report the passing of: 1042 Sharp Shooter, 1014 Astrolab, and 1015 Cavalier.
They will be forever remembered under the cherry blossom trees in the Queen's Courtyard.
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1036 Thalia will be retiring with Julsquick
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1033 Moira will be retiring with ciinereous
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1020 Juliet will be retiring with DreamCatcher-Stable
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1021 Dutchess will be retiring with Ember564
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I Am A God
Written by HoT-Stables – 21 June 2019
A year.
That's all it had been. A year since the creatures first showed up.
A year since they first broke into the castle grounds; only this time it wasn’t just horses that were at risk. Before Edmund even knew what was going on, his Queen had been taken from right under his nose. The city was overrun, in what felt like split seconds. The calm of the night was all but gone, replaced by utter carnage.
“FOR ALERIA!” Edmund bellowed as he fought his way across the courtyard, leaving bodies of the creatures strewn behind him.
xxx
As fast as they came, they were gone. They retreated when they had captured what they wanted; Alora. Edmund stood in front of castle gates, staring out to the road ahead. He slipped his hands into his pockets, attempting to think of a plan of action.
Edmund’s fingers brushed over the purple feather trinkets. He pulled them out and stared at them as they sat glimmering in his palms. His mind raced; what had happened to Griffin was happening to his Queen. How could he have let this happen? Alora had placed all of the kingdom's guard in his hands. How could she have done that when he couldn’t even watch the person who meant most to him?
Edmund heart raced, he couldn’t let worry and doubt control his mind; he wouldn’t let what happened to Griffin happen to Alora. Not again. He shoved the feathers back into his pocket knowing - hoping - that he’d still be able to give her one.
The army had gathered in the courtyard, made up of Alerian civilians and generals alike. He paced for a moment, still unsure of the right course of action, but it was now or never. He placed a hand on his saddle, pulling himself up onto the back of his liver chestnut mare. His hand slipped through her dark mane. She could sense his unease.
“It’ll be fine, Azari” he whispered, more for his comfort than hers.
Beside the fiery mare stood the Queen’s steed, a brilliant white stallion with striking blue plumes throughout his mane. Reaching into his pocket, Edmund lifted out one of the purple feathers he intended to give to Alora. Taking strands of the white stallion’s hair, he braided the feather into his mane.
“I’ll keep you safe, Acacius. You’ll be back with her soon, I promise.” He attempted to reassure the stallion.
What seemed like an eternity had passed since the scene on the balcony, although in reality it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. That's all it took… a ten minute head start. He had no idea where to start looking. The road leading out of the castle grounds was long and straight, forking into two directions a mile or so down the way.
Edmund hadn’t ever been a man of faith, but as the escapade made their way down the cobbled street he said a silent prayer for Alora. To Barachiel, to Tulia, to Vahnex; to whichever god was listening. He pleaded that she be returned safe to him, to their kingdom, but in his heart he knew her fate rested with them. Her people.
It was hard travelling at night. The forest was quieter than usual, even for the middle of the night. No bugs or animals could be heard; all was silent.
Before long the group came upon the fork in the road, bringing their convoy to a halt. The General glanced down each path, hoping for a sign. Any sign. But there was nothing, not a branch out of place. No blood, no sound. Nothing.
Azari shifted uneasily underneath Edmund. He opened his mouth to speak, but a hush fell over the group as wailing spread over the forest. Quietly at first, but it grew in both intensity and volume. The screaming seemed to come from all around them. To the left one distinct voice stood out.
“You….. You” A familiar, feminine voice mumbled, repeating itself.
“You can’t…. You can’t… he won’t let you” It grew louder, it sounded like Alora's voice, but something was off.
“He woNT Let YOU…. He wON’t Let YOu” The voice grew more twisted, almost mocking.
“BAraCHieL….WoN’T lEt YoU”
The voice from the right soon became overpowering, drowning out the original.
“Please…. No…. Please” The voice sobbed, still distinctly sounding like their queen.
“Please don’t…. Don’t hurt them” Their voice broke, but still sounded true. Could it really be her?
“It’s not them you want.. Not them…. Not them”
“Not THEm… NOt ThEM….”
“nOT THem…. Not THEM”
The voices began to overlap, chanting almost, as they screamed.
Edmund pulled slightly on Azari’s reins, turning to face his followers. He had a decision to make, he had to follow one of these voices but... How could he choose? There was clearly something going on, no matter which direction they picked but with his Queen’s life on the line this was not a decision he could make alone.
“Which do we trust? Would demons really take our God’s name in vain? Is that possible?” Edmund spoke, defeat clear in his voice. The chestnut pawed the ground anxiously.
“Or is that just what they want us to believe?” One of the villagers spoke boldly “I think the Queen would try to protect us…” He offered his opinion. Whispers rose from the group, each person weighing up their options.
Just like that, the screams were gone, and the group was left standing in darkness and silence. While silence would usually be a relief in normal situation, this moment more panic arose from the group. They quickly put their heads together in hopes to chose the right path. Collectively, the group decided to take the path to the right. The group decided that the Queen would stand to protect her Kingdom. Edmund and Azari lead the pack with Acacius following close behind.
Edmund glanced at the map, realizing the path was leading them to the docks. Vramien was trying to take her away from the Kingdom. Away from her home, her people, but more importantly, the source of her magic.
“Let's get moving” The general spoke, kicking his mare ever so slightly in the sides, anxiety clear in his tone. The group needed to make up for lost time if they were to stand any chance of retrieving their monarch alive. Thundering hoof beats filled the crisp night air.
It didn’t take them long to reach the source of the voices. Edmund didn’t know if this was a relief or further proof that their Queen could be anywhere now. It was shadowstalkers, three of them stood with pride in the centre of the path.
“You Fools”
“You fOolS”
“yOU FoOLS” They mocked as they strode towards the group, teeth bared.
“You should have just stayed at home…”
“StAYed aT HoME”
“sTAyEd aT HoME”
"HaAHHAhHhaHHhh HA hA”
As the group moved forward, Edmund noticed something horrific. The one in the center, he could only assume the leader of the pack, had a clump of long silver hair dangling from it’s barred teeth. Before he could say something, it had become apparent that others had noticed it too.
“Oh my god! Is that the Queen’s hair?!” one of the villagers screamed horrifically.
Had they made a grave mistake, moving down the path they chose?
The battle between the group and the three demons felt like an eternity. This was a setback, a major setback. The gap between Vramien and the group was growing with every passing moment. Seeing the hair, the anxiousness of the situation became very clear to everyone.
“We must go. Now.” Edmund growled, flicking excess blood from his sword before replacing it in its sheath. With ease, he hopped onto his mare’s back throwing her into a full gallop in steps. Acacius, not used to being so extensively used, started to fall behind. The group moved on with haste, trying to keep up with their leader. Soon the cobbled street turned to a dirt road and the forest that had been enclosing the area opened up into fields. The smell of the salt and fish was thick in the air.
“Hold on Alora… Please” Edmund whispered as they cantered down the path, the docks very quickly coming into view. Now that they were out in the open everything seemed a little brighter, but who knows, maybe it was just their eyes finally adjusting to the night.
The docks were not something the kingdom used fairly frequently, they were mainly used in the sea surrounding the kingdom. Aleria and their citizens did not venture far from their land, as they had no idea what the outside world holds. The boats were small fishing boats, their equipment was not meant for long sea trips. Getting closer, the group could clearly make that evident. If they had left by boat, the kingdom would not be able to handle such a long trip on small dinghies.
“Over there! A ship!” one of the army-men pointed. The group set their eyes on a warship; to them, the ship looked massive but anything in comparison to their small fleet was considered a beast. The dark wooden ship was heading out of the channel. The Mapmakers had told tales of a group of tropical islands, the closest land-masses to the kingdom. They had been donned the “Isles of Invermay”. The best guess that Edmund had was that they were heading to the isles. He spun around, facing his group, who had most of their eyes on the fleeing ship.
“Men! Vramien and Swadic have the upper hand here. They clearly know the outside world around us more than we do” Edmund paused, looking back at the ship, which was nothing more than a fading spot on the horizon. He knew that the only thing his followers knew was their land, their kingdom. There was never a need, or a want, to travel beyond their kingdom shores.
“Our best chance now is to catch them before they get to the Isles of Invermay.”
Everyone was uneasy at the suggestion. How? They clearly couldn’t take the small fleet of fishing boats.
“I’m open to suggestions…” Edmund lead his mare to the water. Azari moved into the water on her own accord, waves splashing up against her underbelly. Her fiery plumes shimmered in the darkness. The group sat there for a few minutes in silence, no one had an answer.
“By air, or by sea. That is our only option...” He paused, a sigh escaped him. He was one for ground battle but was scared of flight.
One of the townsfolk spoke up in a nervous tone. “I… I work in the brewery my lord. My saddle bags are always full with all kinds of goods… I’m sure I have enough Oceanpearl… it only takes a drop, afterall.” The man fumbled in his bag, looking up as he drew two bottles from the sack, “Or Goldenwing, if you think our odds in the air are greater”.
“I must admit, I am not a master in the air and I have not been out on these waters in a long time. However, I know some of you are. So I leave the option up to you. What is the best course of action? ” Edmund lead Azari out of the water, drips fell off her stomach like sparkling stars, as he looked on at his peers for guidance. The group felt most confident in the air; they would have a good visual of the boat, speed would be on their side and as a breed of dragon hunters, the Nordanners would have no problem with aerial combat should the need arise.
The group prepared their horses, diluting the potion with the slightest amount of ocean water so that there would be enough to go around. The transformation seems slower than normal. Maybe this was in part due to the urgency of the situation, maybe Edmund was just overthinking it and it was simply because the potion had been diluted. After their wings had sprouted, a boost of confidence had overcome the crowd; this was something they knew and loved. Something they practiced sometimes on the daily.
Edmund patted Azari, a nervous smile on his face, his nerves swelling. The mare nickered in attempts to sooth her rider. For a moment, Edmund felt like he was going to be ok. That changed in an instant, once Acacius felt it was his time to shine. The white stallion soared past the group and took off into the air. Without notice, Azari blasted off following her mate, leaving Edmund hanging on for dear life. With new life, the group cheered and blasted into the air.
After a few heart pounding minutes, Edmund’s feet found his stirrups. Azari had a mind of her own… the crazy mare was trying to kill him. She knew exactly where she was going, there was no need for him to hold on to his reins. It was her leading the group now.
The group soared through the clouds, but no matter how fast they glided, the warship always seemed to stay the same distance ahead of them. How fast could they possibly be going?
The group witnessed the warship hit land. It took a few moments, but soon enough the three figures exited the ship. First, Swadic, followed closely by a long silver haired figure, who seemed to be bounded by some form of magic. The smoke filled stallion, Vramien, loomed behind them, clouding their view with smoke. His head turned in the direction of the group, the gaze of his blinding white eyes almost piercing into the souls of those who watched. Before they knew it, they had disappeared. Another one of Vramien’s magic tricks, no doubt. If he could take the queen from her balcony to outside of the castle gates anything was possible.
Once all of them were settled on land, everyone was urged to take the remedy to reverse the potions quickly, so they could start their search. Edmund strode across the sandy beach, following the three sets of footprints. At least this time there was evidence, actual visual evidence! A trail they could follow at last. The man had been so preoccupied that he had failed to notice what was right in front of him. The general turned to face the group, having grown aware of the sound of his own mare’s footsteps. Nobody else was marching up the beach. No. All he could hear was himself, that and the waves that is.
“Are you coming?” He spoke, but his tone soon hushed as he realized what the group had been looking at. Before him stood a figure of legend, the golden mare known as Tulia. Her mane and tail flowed around her like the wind itself, her body seemed to be solid yet completely fluid and moving, like the sands of time swirling infinitely. Her hooves and eyes made her surroundings as bright as day, even though they were sitting in complete darkness. While she stood perfectly still, there was always movement.
Although the people of Aleria had more interaction with the gods than most mere mortals, they had never been graced with the presence of this mare. The tales of the goddess of wind is one that had been passed down for generation, but Edmund would have never thought they would come face to face.
“This quest you find yourself on…. It is not wise, dear knight.” Although her lips did not move, the mares voice could be heard by all present.
“If you turn back now there is still a chance for you, for your people…”
"Tulia..." Edmund muttered in awe.
“You know little of Vramien and his capability... should you challenge him, you will not be leaving this island…” She warned “They have what they need, now go. Heed my warnings. Head west across the island, there you will find a ship capable of returning you to your homeland.”
Azari pinned her ears back, snorting in objection. Edmund’s stomach dropped, a feeling of unsettlement. Knowing about the Gods wasn’t much of Edmund’s expertise. He listened to Alora go on about the three siblings from time to time. The wind changed directions, Tulia’s body fell away into the now westward winds. The sands that encircled her body, flew away in the direction she was heading them to go. Just like that, the goddess was gone. No one moved. They hadn’t felt the same presence they felt when they met Barachiel. Barachiel made his presence known. It was powerful. This mare, the one who presented herself as Tulia, had no such presence.
Edmund looked over his shoulder at the faces of his group members. They seemed baffled and confused, just as he was. Whispers behind him debated the mare’s true intentions. Edmund turned around, placed his hand on his chin, trying to remember what Alora had told him about Tulia.
“Tulia is a goddess, that’s a fact. However her intentions on this planet towards us are not known.” Edmund recalled. “She lives among us, but this is our first encounter with her. Is she trying to help or is she trying to hinder us? We have to wonder what are her true motives behind this appearance.” He stated.
“Don’t forget the demon can shapeshift, sir.” One of the army-men added, in a hushed worried tone, “was it even her? We’ve never seen her before… how can we say for sure that was Tulia…”
Edmund looked at the ground where she had been standing. Was it her? Had Tulia been the one to answer his prayer? Or had she come just for the entertainment.
“Something isn't right. My gut is telling me to continue" Edmund thought out loud. The group agreed with Edmund… something wasn’t quite right here. Despite the goddesses warnings, they continued on their current path. They had seen the Queen heading in this direction, they couldn't turn back now.
Time seemed to be at a standstill. All the troops and horses seemed to be dragging their feet, everyone excluding Acacius. The farther they walked, the more anxious and nervous the stallion got. His paced quickened. After the outburst earlier, Edmund had tied Acacius to Azari’s saddle, in order to prevent further disobedience. Not just for the group’s safety, but his as well.
Out of nowhere, the stallion reared and thrashed his head. Spooking Azari, both horses fell causing chaos in the sand. Ripping the leather off of Azari’s saddle in the panic, Acacius busted free. For a brief moment, no one had realized that Acacius had been freed, not even the stallion himself. The white stallion's and Edmund’s eyes met. Edmund’s hands reached out to steady the stallion.
“Boy, please, not now” Edmund voiced was hushed. “I can’t lose you too…”
Acacius took this opportunity to bolt northbound. Before long, he was out of sight. Edmund glanced back at his group, but they knew what to do. Without a word they set off across the beach, following the stallion. He knew something. Was it just a strong bond with his rider or some other instinct kicking in? Who knows, but something was driving that stallion, and they trusted his gut a hell of a lot more than Tulia, that’s for sure. Acacius charged with all of his might, making a bee-line across the sand. Edmund and the group were hot on his heels. He felt Azari over exerting herself trying to keep up with her mate. He knew she was just as worried about Acacius as he was about Alora.
They were crossing terrain that they had never seen before, rode in before. Trees were different shapes, rocks and sand that felt different under their feet and hooves. They were at a disadvantage trying to rush anywhere. Acacius, being a clumsy stallion that only eats carrots and goes for daily trail rides, was not used to this either. He wasn’t used to much to be honest. In an attempt to jump over an odd square shaped rock, he failed to bring his hooves up high enough and the white stallion face planted the ground. As the stallion was tumbling, Azari put on her breaks nearly throwing Edmund off. The rest of the group followed suit behind them. The trees had been blocking the large crumbing formation that Acacius had failed to see, that they all had failed to see.
Azari carefully stepped over the foundation; the new sound of her hooves clacking on the stone spooked some of the horses behind her. Edmund and Azari had entered a walkway to a building that had been long forgotten, by a civilization that has been gone for what looked like hundreds of years.
Acacius pulled himself up shamefully, standing limp with his head lowered. Azari brushed up next to him, just close enough for Edmund to catch sight of the feather he braided into Acacius’ mane earlier that night. Now the sun was starting to come up, the group could see the exit to the building they had burst into. They carefully paraded through the small exit so they could see the front of whatever the foundation was holding. With the sun peeking over the shoreline, the island came to life. The escapade could see the colours of their surroundings quite well. The foundation was made of a dark, evil coloured stone. Nothing any one of them had seen before.
Edmund hopped off Azari, who refused to leave Acacius’ side. He placed a hand on the stone, which had characters that none of the foreigners had ever seen before carved into them. The only thing they could make out was pictures of what seemed to describe as sacrifice.
“I don’t think we’re meant to be here…” Edmund whispered, hand still on the stone carvings. “Maybe she was right…”
Edmund suddenly realized the lack of sound. No waves, no birds, nothing. He looked around at his group. They seemingly realized the same collectively. They heard the faint sound of chanting, as if a ritual was taking place. Edmund spun around, a finger on his mouth. He crept to the corner of the crumbing stone attempting to see what was happening. The sound… the smell… that told him all he needed to know.
The words that were coming out of Swadic’s mouth were not a language he recognized, it didn’t seem human. His words echoed through the temple walls, Swadic’s voice increased every time he repeated a line. The smell of smoke and unknown spices were thick in the air. Edmund realized that Swadic was so involved in his actions, he quickly took the chance to fully expose himself around the corner to get a better view. There he saw Alora, midair hovering with black smoke engulfing her. She was motionless, lifeless, dead eyes.
Edmund panicked, he spun back around the corner and pressed his back against the stone. His chest was tight, struggling to breathe. He was losing his composure. What did he just see? Could she still possibly be alive after what she just witnessed? He had known Alora her whole life. He had been the kingdom’s guard before Aleria, before Alora had been born. She was the most precious thing in his entire life. The biggest secret he had ever kept. She was his only child. That was something only Edmund and Alora’s mother had known. His daughter lay unconscious, and here he was paralyzed with fear.
“We must act now, Sir” One of the army-men prompted, taking charge of the situation given Edmund’s state of mind. “One false move, and we might not make it out of this, sir.” he continued in a stern manor. “Do we charge in, take the element of surprise? Even though we don't know what they're capable of… or do we plan an ambush, watch and wait for the right moment to strike? Then again, every second is precious, we don't know how long we have...”
“We need to plan our attack… What I just saw, rushing in head first, we might kill her in the process…If she’s not already gone.” Edmund's defeat rang through the group. His eyes met Alora’s stallion, who stood away from the crowd, completely broken. Acacius’ head turned towards Edmund, their eyes met. For a brief moment, it seemed like they had shared the same thought. A flame had been lit out of nowhere. Edmund lifted his body away from the stone temple and grabbed a nearby branch.
“You three, grab a handful of sand and place it on the flat stone” he ordered.
The sand covered the stone completely like a canvas waiting for oil paint to create a beautiful masterpiece. Edmund started to draw shapes in the sand, occasionally erasing it by spreading the sand back over the areas he had drawn. Plans were playing through his mind. They had no idea what kind of magic Vramien was using and no idea how Swadic came into play.
The plan was to get Alora and get out. They were all out for blood, but until more was known about this land - and his magic - they simply couldn’t do that.
As the group sat there drawing in the sand, a shadow slowly slithered down the side of the temple eventually cascading over the group. Edmund’s initial feeling of panic returned. This was no natural shadow. At the same time, all of their eyes looked up. By then it was too late.
“I see you’ve made it to my temple, mortals… Are you looking for the one you call….
Alora?”
The deep voice boomed, it pierced into the very souls of those that could listen.
“Her soul will do me well in regaining the power I once had. She is filled with strength.”
Vramien continued. The gaze of his glowing white eyes cast a feeling of unease and nausea through the group. Edmund slowly picked himself off the ground, never taking his eyes off of the skull that sat on Vramin’s head. “Do not speak her name, vile creature.”
Vramien chuckled. The shadows that formed his body dissipated and slithered down the side of the temple, forming again into the tall black stallion in front of Edmund. This placed Edmund at a disadvantage, he had been separated from his group.
“Vile… creature?”
Vramien chuckled once more.
“I am no creature, mortal. I am a God.”
“A God of what? Death? Destruction? Pathetic…” Edmund mocked, taking a step back. Unconsciously showing a sign of nervousness.
“Precisely.”
Vramien’s body shifted closer as Edmund had taken his step back.
“And I ruled these lands years ago. Back when Swadic’s civilization thrived. I’m coming to reclaim what’s
Rightfully
Mine.”
As Vramien crept closer to Edmund, he was able to see just how horrifying Vramien was. The puffs of smoke that forged his body smelt of flesh that had been burning for thousands of years. The skull that sat atop his head still had bits of purple fur, but for the most part had been stripped clean. When truly gazing into the pits of Vramien’s blinding white eyes, you felt the pain and anguish those who had their lives taken by him felt. The agony their souls continued to suffer, even after death.
Edmund was frozen, locked in gaze with the stallion. Try as he might, his body was paralyzed. The shadows drew closer and closer to Edmund’s body, slowly entangling him from his feet. As his troops stood behind Vramien, smoke and shadows blocked their line of sight, unable to see what was occurring, unable to provide the help Edmund needed. Acacius charged away from Azari’s side, breaking through the group and straight towards the back end of Vramien. The stallion charged through the shadowy figure headbutting Edmund out of the way before he had the opportunity to fully entangle the human. Acacius sacrificed himself; his body entrapped inside Vramien’s while Edmund tumbled backwards. As Vramien consumed Acacius’ soul, the steed let out an unearthly, bone chilling scream. It could be felt by everyone.
Azari took action, she raced to her rider’s side. The peafowl grabbed her rider by his leather collar and attempted to drag him. He looked up at her, as she struggled to pull him to safety. Edmund’s arm reached up next to her ears and grabbed a strand of her mane while attempting to get his footing. It took a few strides, but eventually Edmund had his equilibrium in check. The two of them were nearly at a canter by the time he was able to fully grab her neck and jump onto her back. As soon as he was up, regardless if he had proper seating, she took off.
The group, still in shock of what was happening to Alora’s steed paused to watch.
“FOR ALORA!” Edmund bellowed back, retrieving his sword from its sheath. The troops snapped back to reality and right into action.
Like a fire spreading through a dry forest, the group raced around the corner of the temple with the chestnut mare well in front. Edmund and Azari were charging right at Swadic, who was still mesmerized by his spells. Their hearts were pounding as fast as their hoof beats. Their heartbeat was the only sound either of them could hear; the pounding in their ears. The adrenaline rushing through their veins.
Edmund raised his sword above his head, and as they rushed past Swadic, plunged it deep into his chest, leaving it there as the pair strode past him towards Alora.
“You FOOL”
Vramien’s voice boomed; bits of stone fell from the eroding tower behind them. The smoke around Alora’s body slowly started to dissipate. Edmund had placed Azari and himself directly under Alora, but they were just out of reach. He spun his mare around looking back at Swadic.
Vramien’s body was now directly behind Swadic’s. The smoke seemed more active and putrefying than before.
“You can... save me, right? Y-y-you’re... a god” Swadic fell to his knees, looking down at the sword that had punctured his chest.
“No… There will be no
Saving
Today.
You are weak. You cannot rule a kingdom. You may be a prince
But you are no ruler.
If I cannot have her….
I will have you.”
Vramien replied, his shadowy veins entangling Swadic at the knees.
Swadic’s head bent backwards, meeting Vramien’s deathly gaze. Within moments, the same bone chilling scream was released from Swadic’s body. At the very moment of Swadic’s death, the grasp on Alora had been undone. Her lifeless body fell from the magic that hand bound her.
As Alora fell into Edmund’s arms, the group tried to capture the shadow demon. They threw ropes, swords, arrows, anything they could at the creature to no avail. The shadows twisted and twirled around his skull until they were no particular shape. All of the items they threw at him went through him. As his shadows dissipated, they heard one last chuckle.
“I told you…..
I am a GOD”
Just like that, he was gone.
Edmund hopped off of Azari’s back with Alora in his arms. He gently placed her on the ground. Her people clustered around the two of them. He brushed her hair away from her face. Her skin was pale and cold to the touch. Her lips were blue but as he paused, he noticed breathing. Shallow, but she was breathing.
“We need to get her home, quickly. She needs to see the nurses in the castle. She’s alive, but barely.”
Edmund hadn’t notice Azari wander off. He spotted her standing beside the lifeless, bloodied corpse of her mate. Edmund handed Alora to the guards to secure her for the trip home, and joined his mare by her side.
He leaned against her, laying a hand on her neck. The two stood in silence, paying their respects for the fallen. Edmund’s eyes fell on the feather he had braided into his mane before they departed; it lay flat against the stallions lifeless neck, soiled with blood. He stared at it for a few minutes before deciding to cut the braid out of the stallion’s hair. He wiped as much blood off as he could. Deciding he’d fix the rest when they returned home, he searched for four volunteers to step forward to ensure that Acacius’ body was returned home safely.
Atop of Azari’s back once more, he motioned the group to set off, only glancing back once at Swadic’s cold corpse on the ground. Edmund’s eyes met Swadic’s dead stare. The same nauseous, cold feeling returned. A feeling that Edmund will never forget.
In the same breath, only for a brief moment, the golden goddess reappeared. Tulia’s body formed in the wind with eyes and hooves glowing brightly. Red flower petals danced around her. The sound of the waves increased as the winds picked up and changed directions. Her body drifted away in the breeze once more; flowing into the backs of the group members.
A faint giggle was heard in the distance.
A year.
That's all it had been. A year since the creatures first showed up.
A year since they first broke into the castle grounds; only this time it wasn’t just horses that were at risk. Before Edmund even knew what was going on, his Queen had been taken from right under his nose. The city was overrun, in what felt like split seconds. The calm of the night was all but gone, replaced by utter carnage.
“FOR ALERIA!” Edmund bellowed as he fought his way across the courtyard, leaving bodies of the creatures strewn behind him.
xxx
As fast as they came, they were gone. They retreated when they had captured what they wanted; Alora. Edmund stood in front of castle gates, staring out to the road ahead. He slipped his hands into his pockets, attempting to think of a plan of action.
Edmund’s fingers brushed over the purple feather trinkets. He pulled them out and stared at them as they sat glimmering in his palms. His mind raced; what had happened to Griffin was happening to his Queen. How could he have let this happen? Alora had placed all of the kingdom's guard in his hands. How could she have done that when he couldn’t even watch the person who meant most to him?
Edmund heart raced, he couldn’t let worry and doubt control his mind; he wouldn’t let what happened to Griffin happen to Alora. Not again. He shoved the feathers back into his pocket knowing - hoping - that he’d still be able to give her one.
The army had gathered in the courtyard, made up of Alerian civilians and generals alike. He paced for a moment, still unsure of the right course of action, but it was now or never. He placed a hand on his saddle, pulling himself up onto the back of his liver chestnut mare. His hand slipped through her dark mane. She could sense his unease.
“It’ll be fine, Azari” he whispered, more for his comfort than hers.
Beside the fiery mare stood the Queen’s steed, a brilliant white stallion with striking blue plumes throughout his mane. Reaching into his pocket, Edmund lifted out one of the purple feathers he intended to give to Alora. Taking strands of the white stallion’s hair, he braided the feather into his mane.
“I’ll keep you safe, Acacius. You’ll be back with her soon, I promise.” He attempted to reassure the stallion.
What seemed like an eternity had passed since the scene on the balcony, although in reality it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. That's all it took… a ten minute head start. He had no idea where to start looking. The road leading out of the castle grounds was long and straight, forking into two directions a mile or so down the way.
Edmund hadn’t ever been a man of faith, but as the escapade made their way down the cobbled street he said a silent prayer for Alora. To Barachiel, to Tulia, to Vahnex; to whichever god was listening. He pleaded that she be returned safe to him, to their kingdom, but in his heart he knew her fate rested with them. Her people.
It was hard travelling at night. The forest was quieter than usual, even for the middle of the night. No bugs or animals could be heard; all was silent.
Before long the group came upon the fork in the road, bringing their convoy to a halt. The General glanced down each path, hoping for a sign. Any sign. But there was nothing, not a branch out of place. No blood, no sound. Nothing.
Azari shifted uneasily underneath Edmund. He opened his mouth to speak, but a hush fell over the group as wailing spread over the forest. Quietly at first, but it grew in both intensity and volume. The screaming seemed to come from all around them. To the left one distinct voice stood out.
“You….. You” A familiar, feminine voice mumbled, repeating itself.
“You can’t…. You can’t… he won’t let you” It grew louder, it sounded like Alora's voice, but something was off.
“He woNT Let YOU…. He wON’t Let YOu” The voice grew more twisted, almost mocking.
“BAraCHieL….WoN’T lEt YoU”
The voice from the right soon became overpowering, drowning out the original.
“Please…. No…. Please” The voice sobbed, still distinctly sounding like their queen.
“Please don’t…. Don’t hurt them” Their voice broke, but still sounded true. Could it really be her?
“It’s not them you want.. Not them…. Not them”
“Not THEm… NOt ThEM….”
“nOT THem…. Not THEM”
The voices began to overlap, chanting almost, as they screamed.
Edmund pulled slightly on Azari’s reins, turning to face his followers. He had a decision to make, he had to follow one of these voices but... How could he choose? There was clearly something going on, no matter which direction they picked but with his Queen’s life on the line this was not a decision he could make alone.
“Which do we trust? Would demons really take our God’s name in vain? Is that possible?” Edmund spoke, defeat clear in his voice. The chestnut pawed the ground anxiously.
“Or is that just what they want us to believe?” One of the villagers spoke boldly “I think the Queen would try to protect us…” He offered his opinion. Whispers rose from the group, each person weighing up their options.
Just like that, the screams were gone, and the group was left standing in darkness and silence. While silence would usually be a relief in normal situation, this moment more panic arose from the group. They quickly put their heads together in hopes to chose the right path. Collectively, the group decided to take the path to the right. The group decided that the Queen would stand to protect her Kingdom. Edmund and Azari lead the pack with Acacius following close behind.
Edmund glanced at the map, realizing the path was leading them to the docks. Vramien was trying to take her away from the Kingdom. Away from her home, her people, but more importantly, the source of her magic.
“Let's get moving” The general spoke, kicking his mare ever so slightly in the sides, anxiety clear in his tone. The group needed to make up for lost time if they were to stand any chance of retrieving their monarch alive. Thundering hoof beats filled the crisp night air.
It didn’t take them long to reach the source of the voices. Edmund didn’t know if this was a relief or further proof that their Queen could be anywhere now. It was shadowstalkers, three of them stood with pride in the centre of the path.
“You Fools”
“You fOolS”
“yOU FoOLS” They mocked as they strode towards the group, teeth bared.
“You should have just stayed at home…”
“StAYed aT HoME”
“sTAyEd aT HoME”
"HaAHHAhHhaHHhh HA hA”
As the group moved forward, Edmund noticed something horrific. The one in the center, he could only assume the leader of the pack, had a clump of long silver hair dangling from it’s barred teeth. Before he could say something, it had become apparent that others had noticed it too.
“Oh my god! Is that the Queen’s hair?!” one of the villagers screamed horrifically.
Had they made a grave mistake, moving down the path they chose?
The battle between the group and the three demons felt like an eternity. This was a setback, a major setback. The gap between Vramien and the group was growing with every passing moment. Seeing the hair, the anxiousness of the situation became very clear to everyone.
“We must go. Now.” Edmund growled, flicking excess blood from his sword before replacing it in its sheath. With ease, he hopped onto his mare’s back throwing her into a full gallop in steps. Acacius, not used to being so extensively used, started to fall behind. The group moved on with haste, trying to keep up with their leader. Soon the cobbled street turned to a dirt road and the forest that had been enclosing the area opened up into fields. The smell of the salt and fish was thick in the air.
“Hold on Alora… Please” Edmund whispered as they cantered down the path, the docks very quickly coming into view. Now that they were out in the open everything seemed a little brighter, but who knows, maybe it was just their eyes finally adjusting to the night.
The docks were not something the kingdom used fairly frequently, they were mainly used in the sea surrounding the kingdom. Aleria and their citizens did not venture far from their land, as they had no idea what the outside world holds. The boats were small fishing boats, their equipment was not meant for long sea trips. Getting closer, the group could clearly make that evident. If they had left by boat, the kingdom would not be able to handle such a long trip on small dinghies.
“Over there! A ship!” one of the army-men pointed. The group set their eyes on a warship; to them, the ship looked massive but anything in comparison to their small fleet was considered a beast. The dark wooden ship was heading out of the channel. The Mapmakers had told tales of a group of tropical islands, the closest land-masses to the kingdom. They had been donned the “Isles of Invermay”. The best guess that Edmund had was that they were heading to the isles. He spun around, facing his group, who had most of their eyes on the fleeing ship.
“Men! Vramien and Swadic have the upper hand here. They clearly know the outside world around us more than we do” Edmund paused, looking back at the ship, which was nothing more than a fading spot on the horizon. He knew that the only thing his followers knew was their land, their kingdom. There was never a need, or a want, to travel beyond their kingdom shores.
“Our best chance now is to catch them before they get to the Isles of Invermay.”
Everyone was uneasy at the suggestion. How? They clearly couldn’t take the small fleet of fishing boats.
“I’m open to suggestions…” Edmund lead his mare to the water. Azari moved into the water on her own accord, waves splashing up against her underbelly. Her fiery plumes shimmered in the darkness. The group sat there for a few minutes in silence, no one had an answer.
“By air, or by sea. That is our only option...” He paused, a sigh escaped him. He was one for ground battle but was scared of flight.
One of the townsfolk spoke up in a nervous tone. “I… I work in the brewery my lord. My saddle bags are always full with all kinds of goods… I’m sure I have enough Oceanpearl… it only takes a drop, afterall.” The man fumbled in his bag, looking up as he drew two bottles from the sack, “Or Goldenwing, if you think our odds in the air are greater”.
“I must admit, I am not a master in the air and I have not been out on these waters in a long time. However, I know some of you are. So I leave the option up to you. What is the best course of action? ” Edmund lead Azari out of the water, drips fell off her stomach like sparkling stars, as he looked on at his peers for guidance. The group felt most confident in the air; they would have a good visual of the boat, speed would be on their side and as a breed of dragon hunters, the Nordanners would have no problem with aerial combat should the need arise.
The group prepared their horses, diluting the potion with the slightest amount of ocean water so that there would be enough to go around. The transformation seems slower than normal. Maybe this was in part due to the urgency of the situation, maybe Edmund was just overthinking it and it was simply because the potion had been diluted. After their wings had sprouted, a boost of confidence had overcome the crowd; this was something they knew and loved. Something they practiced sometimes on the daily.
Edmund patted Azari, a nervous smile on his face, his nerves swelling. The mare nickered in attempts to sooth her rider. For a moment, Edmund felt like he was going to be ok. That changed in an instant, once Acacius felt it was his time to shine. The white stallion soared past the group and took off into the air. Without notice, Azari blasted off following her mate, leaving Edmund hanging on for dear life. With new life, the group cheered and blasted into the air.
After a few heart pounding minutes, Edmund’s feet found his stirrups. Azari had a mind of her own… the crazy mare was trying to kill him. She knew exactly where she was going, there was no need for him to hold on to his reins. It was her leading the group now.
The group soared through the clouds, but no matter how fast they glided, the warship always seemed to stay the same distance ahead of them. How fast could they possibly be going?
The group witnessed the warship hit land. It took a few moments, but soon enough the three figures exited the ship. First, Swadic, followed closely by a long silver haired figure, who seemed to be bounded by some form of magic. The smoke filled stallion, Vramien, loomed behind them, clouding their view with smoke. His head turned in the direction of the group, the gaze of his blinding white eyes almost piercing into the souls of those who watched. Before they knew it, they had disappeared. Another one of Vramien’s magic tricks, no doubt. If he could take the queen from her balcony to outside of the castle gates anything was possible.
Once all of them were settled on land, everyone was urged to take the remedy to reverse the potions quickly, so they could start their search. Edmund strode across the sandy beach, following the three sets of footprints. At least this time there was evidence, actual visual evidence! A trail they could follow at last. The man had been so preoccupied that he had failed to notice what was right in front of him. The general turned to face the group, having grown aware of the sound of his own mare’s footsteps. Nobody else was marching up the beach. No. All he could hear was himself, that and the waves that is.
“Are you coming?” He spoke, but his tone soon hushed as he realized what the group had been looking at. Before him stood a figure of legend, the golden mare known as Tulia. Her mane and tail flowed around her like the wind itself, her body seemed to be solid yet completely fluid and moving, like the sands of time swirling infinitely. Her hooves and eyes made her surroundings as bright as day, even though they were sitting in complete darkness. While she stood perfectly still, there was always movement.
Although the people of Aleria had more interaction with the gods than most mere mortals, they had never been graced with the presence of this mare. The tales of the goddess of wind is one that had been passed down for generation, but Edmund would have never thought they would come face to face.
“This quest you find yourself on…. It is not wise, dear knight.” Although her lips did not move, the mares voice could be heard by all present.
“If you turn back now there is still a chance for you, for your people…”
"Tulia..." Edmund muttered in awe.
“You know little of Vramien and his capability... should you challenge him, you will not be leaving this island…” She warned “They have what they need, now go. Heed my warnings. Head west across the island, there you will find a ship capable of returning you to your homeland.”
Azari pinned her ears back, snorting in objection. Edmund’s stomach dropped, a feeling of unsettlement. Knowing about the Gods wasn’t much of Edmund’s expertise. He listened to Alora go on about the three siblings from time to time. The wind changed directions, Tulia’s body fell away into the now westward winds. The sands that encircled her body, flew away in the direction she was heading them to go. Just like that, the goddess was gone. No one moved. They hadn’t felt the same presence they felt when they met Barachiel. Barachiel made his presence known. It was powerful. This mare, the one who presented herself as Tulia, had no such presence.
Edmund looked over his shoulder at the faces of his group members. They seemed baffled and confused, just as he was. Whispers behind him debated the mare’s true intentions. Edmund turned around, placed his hand on his chin, trying to remember what Alora had told him about Tulia.
“Tulia is a goddess, that’s a fact. However her intentions on this planet towards us are not known.” Edmund recalled. “She lives among us, but this is our first encounter with her. Is she trying to help or is she trying to hinder us? We have to wonder what are her true motives behind this appearance.” He stated.
“Don’t forget the demon can shapeshift, sir.” One of the army-men added, in a hushed worried tone, “was it even her? We’ve never seen her before… how can we say for sure that was Tulia…”
Edmund looked at the ground where she had been standing. Was it her? Had Tulia been the one to answer his prayer? Or had she come just for the entertainment.
“Something isn't right. My gut is telling me to continue" Edmund thought out loud. The group agreed with Edmund… something wasn’t quite right here. Despite the goddesses warnings, they continued on their current path. They had seen the Queen heading in this direction, they couldn't turn back now.
Time seemed to be at a standstill. All the troops and horses seemed to be dragging their feet, everyone excluding Acacius. The farther they walked, the more anxious and nervous the stallion got. His paced quickened. After the outburst earlier, Edmund had tied Acacius to Azari’s saddle, in order to prevent further disobedience. Not just for the group’s safety, but his as well.
Out of nowhere, the stallion reared and thrashed his head. Spooking Azari, both horses fell causing chaos in the sand. Ripping the leather off of Azari’s saddle in the panic, Acacius busted free. For a brief moment, no one had realized that Acacius had been freed, not even the stallion himself. The white stallion's and Edmund’s eyes met. Edmund’s hands reached out to steady the stallion.
“Boy, please, not now” Edmund voiced was hushed. “I can’t lose you too…”
Acacius took this opportunity to bolt northbound. Before long, he was out of sight. Edmund glanced back at his group, but they knew what to do. Without a word they set off across the beach, following the stallion. He knew something. Was it just a strong bond with his rider or some other instinct kicking in? Who knows, but something was driving that stallion, and they trusted his gut a hell of a lot more than Tulia, that’s for sure. Acacius charged with all of his might, making a bee-line across the sand. Edmund and the group were hot on his heels. He felt Azari over exerting herself trying to keep up with her mate. He knew she was just as worried about Acacius as he was about Alora.
They were crossing terrain that they had never seen before, rode in before. Trees were different shapes, rocks and sand that felt different under their feet and hooves. They were at a disadvantage trying to rush anywhere. Acacius, being a clumsy stallion that only eats carrots and goes for daily trail rides, was not used to this either. He wasn’t used to much to be honest. In an attempt to jump over an odd square shaped rock, he failed to bring his hooves up high enough and the white stallion face planted the ground. As the stallion was tumbling, Azari put on her breaks nearly throwing Edmund off. The rest of the group followed suit behind them. The trees had been blocking the large crumbing formation that Acacius had failed to see, that they all had failed to see.
Azari carefully stepped over the foundation; the new sound of her hooves clacking on the stone spooked some of the horses behind her. Edmund and Azari had entered a walkway to a building that had been long forgotten, by a civilization that has been gone for what looked like hundreds of years.
Acacius pulled himself up shamefully, standing limp with his head lowered. Azari brushed up next to him, just close enough for Edmund to catch sight of the feather he braided into Acacius’ mane earlier that night. Now the sun was starting to come up, the group could see the exit to the building they had burst into. They carefully paraded through the small exit so they could see the front of whatever the foundation was holding. With the sun peeking over the shoreline, the island came to life. The escapade could see the colours of their surroundings quite well. The foundation was made of a dark, evil coloured stone. Nothing any one of them had seen before.
Edmund hopped off Azari, who refused to leave Acacius’ side. He placed a hand on the stone, which had characters that none of the foreigners had ever seen before carved into them. The only thing they could make out was pictures of what seemed to describe as sacrifice.
“I don’t think we’re meant to be here…” Edmund whispered, hand still on the stone carvings. “Maybe she was right…”
Edmund suddenly realized the lack of sound. No waves, no birds, nothing. He looked around at his group. They seemingly realized the same collectively. They heard the faint sound of chanting, as if a ritual was taking place. Edmund spun around, a finger on his mouth. He crept to the corner of the crumbing stone attempting to see what was happening. The sound… the smell… that told him all he needed to know.
The words that were coming out of Swadic’s mouth were not a language he recognized, it didn’t seem human. His words echoed through the temple walls, Swadic’s voice increased every time he repeated a line. The smell of smoke and unknown spices were thick in the air. Edmund realized that Swadic was so involved in his actions, he quickly took the chance to fully expose himself around the corner to get a better view. There he saw Alora, midair hovering with black smoke engulfing her. She was motionless, lifeless, dead eyes.
Edmund panicked, he spun back around the corner and pressed his back against the stone. His chest was tight, struggling to breathe. He was losing his composure. What did he just see? Could she still possibly be alive after what she just witnessed? He had known Alora her whole life. He had been the kingdom’s guard before Aleria, before Alora had been born. She was the most precious thing in his entire life. The biggest secret he had ever kept. She was his only child. That was something only Edmund and Alora’s mother had known. His daughter lay unconscious, and here he was paralyzed with fear.
“We must act now, Sir” One of the army-men prompted, taking charge of the situation given Edmund’s state of mind. “One false move, and we might not make it out of this, sir.” he continued in a stern manor. “Do we charge in, take the element of surprise? Even though we don't know what they're capable of… or do we plan an ambush, watch and wait for the right moment to strike? Then again, every second is precious, we don't know how long we have...”
“We need to plan our attack… What I just saw, rushing in head first, we might kill her in the process…If she’s not already gone.” Edmund's defeat rang through the group. His eyes met Alora’s stallion, who stood away from the crowd, completely broken. Acacius’ head turned towards Edmund, their eyes met. For a brief moment, it seemed like they had shared the same thought. A flame had been lit out of nowhere. Edmund lifted his body away from the stone temple and grabbed a nearby branch.
“You three, grab a handful of sand and place it on the flat stone” he ordered.
The sand covered the stone completely like a canvas waiting for oil paint to create a beautiful masterpiece. Edmund started to draw shapes in the sand, occasionally erasing it by spreading the sand back over the areas he had drawn. Plans were playing through his mind. They had no idea what kind of magic Vramien was using and no idea how Swadic came into play.
The plan was to get Alora and get out. They were all out for blood, but until more was known about this land - and his magic - they simply couldn’t do that.
As the group sat there drawing in the sand, a shadow slowly slithered down the side of the temple eventually cascading over the group. Edmund’s initial feeling of panic returned. This was no natural shadow. At the same time, all of their eyes looked up. By then it was too late.
“I see you’ve made it to my temple, mortals… Are you looking for the one you call….
Alora?”
The deep voice boomed, it pierced into the very souls of those that could listen.
“Her soul will do me well in regaining the power I once had. She is filled with strength.”
Vramien continued. The gaze of his glowing white eyes cast a feeling of unease and nausea through the group. Edmund slowly picked himself off the ground, never taking his eyes off of the skull that sat on Vramin’s head. “Do not speak her name, vile creature.”
Vramien chuckled. The shadows that formed his body dissipated and slithered down the side of the temple, forming again into the tall black stallion in front of Edmund. This placed Edmund at a disadvantage, he had been separated from his group.
“Vile… creature?”
Vramien chuckled once more.
“I am no creature, mortal. I am a God.”
“A God of what? Death? Destruction? Pathetic…” Edmund mocked, taking a step back. Unconsciously showing a sign of nervousness.
“Precisely.”
Vramien’s body shifted closer as Edmund had taken his step back.
“And I ruled these lands years ago. Back when Swadic’s civilization thrived. I’m coming to reclaim what’s
Rightfully
Mine.”
As Vramien crept closer to Edmund, he was able to see just how horrifying Vramien was. The puffs of smoke that forged his body smelt of flesh that had been burning for thousands of years. The skull that sat atop his head still had bits of purple fur, but for the most part had been stripped clean. When truly gazing into the pits of Vramien’s blinding white eyes, you felt the pain and anguish those who had their lives taken by him felt. The agony their souls continued to suffer, even after death.
Edmund was frozen, locked in gaze with the stallion. Try as he might, his body was paralyzed. The shadows drew closer and closer to Edmund’s body, slowly entangling him from his feet. As his troops stood behind Vramien, smoke and shadows blocked their line of sight, unable to see what was occurring, unable to provide the help Edmund needed. Acacius charged away from Azari’s side, breaking through the group and straight towards the back end of Vramien. The stallion charged through the shadowy figure headbutting Edmund out of the way before he had the opportunity to fully entangle the human. Acacius sacrificed himself; his body entrapped inside Vramien’s while Edmund tumbled backwards. As Vramien consumed Acacius’ soul, the steed let out an unearthly, bone chilling scream. It could be felt by everyone.
Azari took action, she raced to her rider’s side. The peafowl grabbed her rider by his leather collar and attempted to drag him. He looked up at her, as she struggled to pull him to safety. Edmund’s arm reached up next to her ears and grabbed a strand of her mane while attempting to get his footing. It took a few strides, but eventually Edmund had his equilibrium in check. The two of them were nearly at a canter by the time he was able to fully grab her neck and jump onto her back. As soon as he was up, regardless if he had proper seating, she took off.
The group, still in shock of what was happening to Alora’s steed paused to watch.
“FOR ALORA!” Edmund bellowed back, retrieving his sword from its sheath. The troops snapped back to reality and right into action.
Like a fire spreading through a dry forest, the group raced around the corner of the temple with the chestnut mare well in front. Edmund and Azari were charging right at Swadic, who was still mesmerized by his spells. Their hearts were pounding as fast as their hoof beats. Their heartbeat was the only sound either of them could hear; the pounding in their ears. The adrenaline rushing through their veins.
Edmund raised his sword above his head, and as they rushed past Swadic, plunged it deep into his chest, leaving it there as the pair strode past him towards Alora.
“You FOOL”
Vramien’s voice boomed; bits of stone fell from the eroding tower behind them. The smoke around Alora’s body slowly started to dissipate. Edmund had placed Azari and himself directly under Alora, but they were just out of reach. He spun his mare around looking back at Swadic.
Vramien’s body was now directly behind Swadic’s. The smoke seemed more active and putrefying than before.
“You can... save me, right? Y-y-you’re... a god” Swadic fell to his knees, looking down at the sword that had punctured his chest.
“No… There will be no
Saving
Today.
You are weak. You cannot rule a kingdom. You may be a prince
But you are no ruler.
If I cannot have her….
I will have you.”
Vramien replied, his shadowy veins entangling Swadic at the knees.
Swadic’s head bent backwards, meeting Vramien’s deathly gaze. Within moments, the same bone chilling scream was released from Swadic’s body. At the very moment of Swadic’s death, the grasp on Alora had been undone. Her lifeless body fell from the magic that hand bound her.
As Alora fell into Edmund’s arms, the group tried to capture the shadow demon. They threw ropes, swords, arrows, anything they could at the creature to no avail. The shadows twisted and twirled around his skull until they were no particular shape. All of the items they threw at him went through him. As his shadows dissipated, they heard one last chuckle.
“I told you…..
I am a GOD”
Just like that, he was gone.
Edmund hopped off of Azari’s back with Alora in his arms. He gently placed her on the ground. Her people clustered around the two of them. He brushed her hair away from her face. Her skin was pale and cold to the touch. Her lips were blue but as he paused, he noticed breathing. Shallow, but she was breathing.
“We need to get her home, quickly. She needs to see the nurses in the castle. She’s alive, but barely.”
Edmund hadn’t notice Azari wander off. He spotted her standing beside the lifeless, bloodied corpse of her mate. Edmund handed Alora to the guards to secure her for the trip home, and joined his mare by her side.
He leaned against her, laying a hand on her neck. The two stood in silence, paying their respects for the fallen. Edmund’s eyes fell on the feather he had braided into his mane before they departed; it lay flat against the stallions lifeless neck, soiled with blood. He stared at it for a few minutes before deciding to cut the braid out of the stallion’s hair. He wiped as much blood off as he could. Deciding he’d fix the rest when they returned home, he searched for four volunteers to step forward to ensure that Acacius’ body was returned home safely.
Atop of Azari’s back once more, he motioned the group to set off, only glancing back once at Swadic’s cold corpse on the ground. Edmund’s eyes met Swadic’s dead stare. The same nauseous, cold feeling returned. A feeling that Edmund will never forget.
In the same breath, only for a brief moment, the golden goddess reappeared. Tulia’s body formed in the wind with eyes and hooves glowing brightly. Red flower petals danced around her. The sound of the waves increased as the winds picked up and changed directions. Her body drifted away in the breeze once more; flowing into the backs of the group members.
A faint giggle was heard in the distance.
Scouting: Aleria
Written by HoT-Stables – 01 September 2019
It has been months since the battle between Vramien and the kingdom of Aleria.
All had been quiet. The kingdom, the Queen and the horses were recovering. The kingdom had just finished celebrating their annual Dragon Hunt. Without it surely would have left their kingdom even more defeated. Everyone had put their worries behind them for the month while the celebrations ensued. All except one townswoman.
Like a plague, her stories crept across the city. Before the anti-god made his appearance, no one paid attention to her crazy babbling. Because that’s what it was, tall tales. In the present time, however, citizens would now believe anything they heard. Many isolated her, fearing that she was bringing evil into the kingdom. Those who feared the greatest came to Edmund, pleading him to do something about this woman.
Edmund had been in the stables tending to Azari, who was very clearly in foal. “Ah girl,” he said, stroking her stomach, “at least he left you with something to remember him by.” Edmund smiled, moving up to her face and brushing her muzzle. He paused, clearly remembering the moment Acacius had lost his life.
“She looks like she’s due any time now,” Alora had broken the silence, startling both Edmund and Azari. Alora stood in the doorway of the Azari’s stall with a small smile on her face. Alora had grown up with Acacius, he had been a gift from her parents before they had perished. The white peafowl had been the only thing she had to remember her parents by. His death was one that would be felt for a long time.
“Her foal will make a great horse for you, Alora” Edmund said softly. “Acacius lives on still”.
Edmund groomed Azari in silence while the Queen made the rounds in the royal stables. Nickering soared through the hallway like a song coming from a few stalls down. One of the newer generals in the barn, Jemima, always loved to see the Queen.
“Ah Auntie, it’s always a pleasure!” Alora giggled.
Like a crack of lightning, a villager had burst into the barn. Castle guards following close behind.
“Edmund! Edmund! I-I-I-I mean sir! Sir!” the boy cried, as he slid to a stop in front of Azari’s doorway. “She’s at it again! She won’t leave us alone! Her stories are scaring the city!”
“What did I tell you yesterday, Jorg.” Edmund said sternly, “I’ll deal with it when I have the time.”
“Stories?” questioned Alora, who had still been standing at Jemima’s stall. “What stories?” She asked again.
Castle guards had grabbed the teenager by the arms, turned him to face the Queen.
“The crazy old wretch who lives alone in the fishing quarters of the city, your majesty” Jorg used a much more respectful, softer tone while speaking to Alora. His eyes placed at the ground. “She speaks of lands that are outside of our kingdom… She speaks of death.”
“You may go now, child. Do not come here again unless otherwise requested.” Alora’s eyes turned to Jemima, a great uncertainty arose within her. She turned and quickly moved to the tack room. Her wounds still recovering from the fight, it took a little bit of effort to hoist the saddle up and even more to carry it down the long hallway.
When she reached Azari’s stall, she placed the saddle down on it’s stand. Edmund, who had been picking his mare’s feet had been startled by the sound of the saddle hitting the wooden stand. He turned around to an outreached arm with a bridle hanging off of it.
“She’s getting antsy, she isn’t used to being cooped up. Stop worrying about the foal, she’ll be fine if you take her to do your rounds once in a while” Alora suggested. Edmund tried to speak, but Alora continued “and I’m ordering you go inform this outcast that I am requesting a meeting with her. You are to bring her to the castle at once.”
His eyes turned to Azari, who suddenly looked alive at the sight of her bridle, then turned back to Alora. “Fine,” he said under his breath. “If she does anything stupid, that’s it, she’s in the field until her foal is born” He continued, almost to himself.
xxx
It had been surprisingly pleasant taking Azari around, he enjoyed taking her out over some of the other generals he had been using. None of the generals really clicked like him and Azari did. By the end of the rounds, it had been time to face the storyteller everyone had been complaining about. They made their way to the fishing quarters, on the outskirts of the kingdom. It was a place where fishermen could easily access the waters just outside, but still live inside the kingdom walls.
Her hut was sectioned off, far away from anyone else. No stores or houses surrounded hers, almost like the city had been built around her and no one wanted to live next door. As Edmund dismounted, an odd small dog with an elongated body and pointed ears charged out the door barking at seemingly everything. It was pretty evident the dog was blind and senile.
“By who in Tulia’s name be here??” A crooked voice crept out of the hut. From the darkness emerged an elderly lady. She was short, incredibly short but proportionate. She looked very different than the villagers in the town. Her hair was long and braided, different shades of grey entangled in one another. Her body was thick, not fat but thick. She walked with a cane due to years of abuse from the weather. “Ahh, Edm’nd. He He He. What be bringin’ ya down ‘ere so far away from Queenie, eh???” The dog still barking in the general direction of anything that made noise. “Börkk. Settle down, b’y” she tapped him with her cane as she took a seat on a stool near the door. Tripping on the front stones, the elderly dog slowly made his way back to her, laying down under her stool.
Noticing Edmund’s stare, the woman leaned down to pet Börkk. “He be the only thin’ I have left. For a corgi, he be doin’ ok”. She said softly.
“Corgi?” Edmund asked, quite curious.
“Yes, my child, corgies be one type o’ dog we choose te keep in Amadora” she answered, her eyes meeting Edmund’s.
Edmund grew frustrated at the sound of ‘Amadora', “Alright, Bjarki, I have been getting complaints about the stories you’ve been telling. You’re scaring the citizens and now the Queen has caught wind. She is requesting a meeting with you in the castle now.”
Bjarki cackled, “Ahhh, Queenie finally startin’ te listen, ya? She never listened as a child, but now the stories be comin’ true, she come runnin’ back te ol’ Bjarki fer help, ehh???” the elderly woman cackled some more. She propped herself up on her cane, slowly pulling herself off the stool.
She made her way over to Azari, looking up at her like a 100 foot tree. “Ya horses be so big ov’r ‘ere. Though, dwarves be no comparison to humans, that’s fer sure.” She chuckled, and motioned to Edmund for help. With a swift leg up, she was on and ready to go. Edmund took Azari’s reins over her head and lead the horse and rider to the castle. As the trio passed the citizens, they grew silent staring in their direction. It had been pretty clear her influence and tales had spread like wildfire through the kingdom.
xxx
Alora had been waiting in the castle’s dining hall for the trio to arrive. Edmund had left Azari saddled with a guard, ready to escort Bjarki home. He lead Bjarki through the halls, to the dining area where Alora had planned a dinner for the three of them.
“He He He, long time no see, Queenie” Bjarki greeted, “Last I seen ye, ye was just a wee littl’ child. How time flies.”
“Hello, Bjarki. Thank you for joining me.” Alora responded. “I hear you have some stories you are sharing with our citizens. Would you care to share them here?”
“Queenie, does ye not remember the same stories I told ye as a child?” Bjarki chuckled “Not even the story I told ye about how I got ‘ere? Such shame.”
Alora shook her head, motioning for Bjarki to share her tales.
“Ahh, well, lets start with Amadora then, shall we? Amadora is a land far, far from ‘ere. It be a large, vast land. I came from the northern half. It be full with life much the same as the life ye got ‘ere. Horses, bears, wolves, forests, beautiful lakes. Our city often ventured north te hunt the Quendevores--”
“Quendevores?” Amadora interrupting Bjarki.
“You know nothin’ of this outside land, young child. There is much more beyond your tiny kingdom walls. Quendevores are large creates in a land way north. They be feastin’ off o’ the ice.” Bjarki answered.
“Creatures that only eat ice? Impossible…” Edmund rolled his eyes. He was not believing a word this elderly woman was telling.
“Ahh but ye do not understand the magic in this land. Ye do not know the legend of Kothrandyl. His magic be fuelin’ this world. His magic spreads far and wide, even here, Edm’nd. Even ye can feel the power of Kothrandyl here.” She wagged a finger at Edmund, “Quendevores be comin’ in many different shapes and sizes, Edm’nd. Not just the one type. We be huntin’ the big ones. They don’t be puttin’ up much of a fight. If ye had seen it yerself, ye would understand.”
“What, or who, is Kothrandyl?” Alora questioned, putting the conversation back on track.
“No one has e’er seen Kothrandyl before. It be said that a dragon bigger than ever seen before be livin’ in the center of this world, deep, deep underground. This small island cannot see the beam of light sproutin’ from the core but it be powerful. Everywhere north o’ ‘ere can see it. It always be present, day or night. It be said that Kothrandyl’s power feeds this world and worlds beyond it--”
“Do you really believe this, Alora? This is all mad, she is mad!” Edmund had been growing incredibly frustrated with Bjarki. “Creatures that eat ice, dragons that sprout magic?”
“Edmund, leave.” Alora demanded. Her eyes cut across the table like swords. “Do not make me ask again.” Edmund removed himself from the table leaving his dinner untouched. The slamming door echoed through the chamber.
“How did you get here, Bjarki?” Alora slightly changed the subject.
“We had been sent out on a mission te scout out the neighbourin’ land, but the boat had been attacked by a great creature from the depths. One we ne'er seen before. It left our boat in pieces. I be forgettin how exactly I got here, but I came alone. Me and ol’ Börkk were the only ones that made it. I’m not sure if the dragon of the deep got the rest...” Bjarki fell silent.
“Thank you for sharing Bjarki. When you’re done your meal, Edmund will escort you home.” Alora stood from her seat and walked around the table towards the door, passing Bjarki on her way. Bjarki grabbed Alora’s arm tightly.
“Queenie, I don’t think ye understand what world ye got yerself in” Bjarki’s cold eyes stared into Alora’s, “Ye need to heed my warnings, child. Learn about the world ye be in. If ye think that anti-god is done, ye be wrong. He’s hidin’ out in a place of death. A place we be never venturin’. An old elvish colony lived there long ago. It be called Malgosfrom.” Her eyes trailed towards the food her grip releasing on Alora’s arm just slightly.
“Do ye really even know what’s beyond yer kingdom walls, child? Do ye?”
xxx
The sun of a new day, crept through Alora’s window. She had not slept even an hour that night. The last words of the dwarf had resonated in her head. She called to a servant walking the halls, requesting a meeting with Edmund as soon as possible. An hour passed when Alora had heard the knock at her door.
“Come in, Edmund” Alora’s voice raised.
“You requested a meeting, Alora?” Edmund poked his head through the door.
“Yes, come in. Don’t just stand in the door.” She said, motioning him inside.
“Listen to me, Edmund. I think it is important that we know the world we live in” Alora started, but Edmund did not let her continue.
“You really believe the words she’s saying?? Alora are you listening to yourself?”
“What is it that you cannot believe, Edmund? She looks vastly different than us. Why is there a reason not to believe her? We have gods that come and go, dragons, a demon that tried to kill me, Edmund! Why should we sit here and wait for him to come back. We could find resources on this land that can help our kingdom. She’s right, we haven’t even scoped out this land we’re on. If she’s right… we do not know what else can come.” Alora’s eyes met Edmund’s, almost pleading for him to understand. “I just want you to take some citizens and go on a scouting mission. Map out our land, lakes, rivers, any major landmarks that can be helpful in the future.”
Edmund sighed and looked away. He shook his head and slid his hand through his greying hair. “Who am I going to take, I cannot take Azari. This could be potentially far too dangerous for that, I will not risk the life of Acacius’ child for a scouting mission.” He said sternly.
Alora smiled,
“You’ll take Jemima.”
xxx
It has been months since the battle between Vramien and the kingdom of Aleria.
All had been quiet. The kingdom, the Queen and the horses were recovering. The kingdom had just finished celebrating their annual Dragon Hunt. Without it surely would have left their kingdom even more defeated. Everyone had put their worries behind them for the month while the celebrations ensued. All except one townswoman.
Like a plague, her stories crept across the city. Before the anti-god made his appearance, no one paid attention to her crazy babbling. Because that’s what it was, tall tales. In the present time, however, citizens would now believe anything they heard. Many isolated her, fearing that she was bringing evil into the kingdom. Those who feared the greatest came to Edmund, pleading him to do something about this woman.
Edmund had been in the stables tending to Azari, who was very clearly in foal. “Ah girl,” he said, stroking her stomach, “at least he left you with something to remember him by.” Edmund smiled, moving up to her face and brushing her muzzle. He paused, clearly remembering the moment Acacius had lost his life.
“She looks like she’s due any time now,” Alora had broken the silence, startling both Edmund and Azari. Alora stood in the doorway of the Azari’s stall with a small smile on her face. Alora had grown up with Acacius, he had been a gift from her parents before they had perished. The white peafowl had been the only thing she had to remember her parents by. His death was one that would be felt for a long time.
“Her foal will make a great horse for you, Alora” Edmund said softly. “Acacius lives on still”.
Edmund groomed Azari in silence while the Queen made the rounds in the royal stables. Nickering soared through the hallway like a song coming from a few stalls down. One of the newer generals in the barn, Jemima, always loved to see the Queen.
“Ah Auntie, it’s always a pleasure!” Alora giggled.
Like a crack of lightning, a villager had burst into the barn. Castle guards following close behind.
“Edmund! Edmund! I-I-I-I mean sir! Sir!” the boy cried, as he slid to a stop in front of Azari’s doorway. “She’s at it again! She won’t leave us alone! Her stories are scaring the city!”
“What did I tell you yesterday, Jorg.” Edmund said sternly, “I’ll deal with it when I have the time.”
“Stories?” questioned Alora, who had still been standing at Jemima’s stall. “What stories?” She asked again.
Castle guards had grabbed the teenager by the arms, turned him to face the Queen.
“The crazy old wretch who lives alone in the fishing quarters of the city, your majesty” Jorg used a much more respectful, softer tone while speaking to Alora. His eyes placed at the ground. “She speaks of lands that are outside of our kingdom… She speaks of death.”
“You may go now, child. Do not come here again unless otherwise requested.” Alora’s eyes turned to Jemima, a great uncertainty arose within her. She turned and quickly moved to the tack room. Her wounds still recovering from the fight, it took a little bit of effort to hoist the saddle up and even more to carry it down the long hallway.
When she reached Azari’s stall, she placed the saddle down on it’s stand. Edmund, who had been picking his mare’s feet had been startled by the sound of the saddle hitting the wooden stand. He turned around to an outreached arm with a bridle hanging off of it.
“She’s getting antsy, she isn’t used to being cooped up. Stop worrying about the foal, she’ll be fine if you take her to do your rounds once in a while” Alora suggested. Edmund tried to speak, but Alora continued “and I’m ordering you go inform this outcast that I am requesting a meeting with her. You are to bring her to the castle at once.”
His eyes turned to Azari, who suddenly looked alive at the sight of her bridle, then turned back to Alora. “Fine,” he said under his breath. “If she does anything stupid, that’s it, she’s in the field until her foal is born” He continued, almost to himself.
xxx
It had been surprisingly pleasant taking Azari around, he enjoyed taking her out over some of the other generals he had been using. None of the generals really clicked like him and Azari did. By the end of the rounds, it had been time to face the storyteller everyone had been complaining about. They made their way to the fishing quarters, on the outskirts of the kingdom. It was a place where fishermen could easily access the waters just outside, but still live inside the kingdom walls.
Her hut was sectioned off, far away from anyone else. No stores or houses surrounded hers, almost like the city had been built around her and no one wanted to live next door. As Edmund dismounted, an odd small dog with an elongated body and pointed ears charged out the door barking at seemingly everything. It was pretty evident the dog was blind and senile.
“By who in Tulia’s name be here??” A crooked voice crept out of the hut. From the darkness emerged an elderly lady. She was short, incredibly short but proportionate. She looked very different than the villagers in the town. Her hair was long and braided, different shades of grey entangled in one another. Her body was thick, not fat but thick. She walked with a cane due to years of abuse from the weather. “Ahh, Edm’nd. He He He. What be bringin’ ya down ‘ere so far away from Queenie, eh???” The dog still barking in the general direction of anything that made noise. “Börkk. Settle down, b’y” she tapped him with her cane as she took a seat on a stool near the door. Tripping on the front stones, the elderly dog slowly made his way back to her, laying down under her stool.
Noticing Edmund’s stare, the woman leaned down to pet Börkk. “He be the only thin’ I have left. For a corgi, he be doin’ ok”. She said softly.
“Corgi?” Edmund asked, quite curious.
“Yes, my child, corgies be one type o’ dog we choose te keep in Amadora” she answered, her eyes meeting Edmund’s.
Edmund grew frustrated at the sound of ‘Amadora', “Alright, Bjarki, I have been getting complaints about the stories you’ve been telling. You’re scaring the citizens and now the Queen has caught wind. She is requesting a meeting with you in the castle now.”
Bjarki cackled, “Ahhh, Queenie finally startin’ te listen, ya? She never listened as a child, but now the stories be comin’ true, she come runnin’ back te ol’ Bjarki fer help, ehh???” the elderly woman cackled some more. She propped herself up on her cane, slowly pulling herself off the stool.
She made her way over to Azari, looking up at her like a 100 foot tree. “Ya horses be so big ov’r ‘ere. Though, dwarves be no comparison to humans, that’s fer sure.” She chuckled, and motioned to Edmund for help. With a swift leg up, she was on and ready to go. Edmund took Azari’s reins over her head and lead the horse and rider to the castle. As the trio passed the citizens, they grew silent staring in their direction. It had been pretty clear her influence and tales had spread like wildfire through the kingdom.
xxx
Alora had been waiting in the castle’s dining hall for the trio to arrive. Edmund had left Azari saddled with a guard, ready to escort Bjarki home. He lead Bjarki through the halls, to the dining area where Alora had planned a dinner for the three of them.
“He He He, long time no see, Queenie” Bjarki greeted, “Last I seen ye, ye was just a wee littl’ child. How time flies.”
“Hello, Bjarki. Thank you for joining me.” Alora responded. “I hear you have some stories you are sharing with our citizens. Would you care to share them here?”
“Queenie, does ye not remember the same stories I told ye as a child?” Bjarki chuckled “Not even the story I told ye about how I got ‘ere? Such shame.”
Alora shook her head, motioning for Bjarki to share her tales.
“Ahh, well, lets start with Amadora then, shall we? Amadora is a land far, far from ‘ere. It be a large, vast land. I came from the northern half. It be full with life much the same as the life ye got ‘ere. Horses, bears, wolves, forests, beautiful lakes. Our city often ventured north te hunt the Quendevores--”
“Quendevores?” Amadora interrupting Bjarki.
“You know nothin’ of this outside land, young child. There is much more beyond your tiny kingdom walls. Quendevores are large creates in a land way north. They be feastin’ off o’ the ice.” Bjarki answered.
“Creatures that only eat ice? Impossible…” Edmund rolled his eyes. He was not believing a word this elderly woman was telling.
“Ahh but ye do not understand the magic in this land. Ye do not know the legend of Kothrandyl. His magic be fuelin’ this world. His magic spreads far and wide, even here, Edm’nd. Even ye can feel the power of Kothrandyl here.” She wagged a finger at Edmund, “Quendevores be comin’ in many different shapes and sizes, Edm’nd. Not just the one type. We be huntin’ the big ones. They don’t be puttin’ up much of a fight. If ye had seen it yerself, ye would understand.”
“What, or who, is Kothrandyl?” Alora questioned, putting the conversation back on track.
“No one has e’er seen Kothrandyl before. It be said that a dragon bigger than ever seen before be livin’ in the center of this world, deep, deep underground. This small island cannot see the beam of light sproutin’ from the core but it be powerful. Everywhere north o’ ‘ere can see it. It always be present, day or night. It be said that Kothrandyl’s power feeds this world and worlds beyond it--”
“Do you really believe this, Alora? This is all mad, she is mad!” Edmund had been growing incredibly frustrated with Bjarki. “Creatures that eat ice, dragons that sprout magic?”
“Edmund, leave.” Alora demanded. Her eyes cut across the table like swords. “Do not make me ask again.” Edmund removed himself from the table leaving his dinner untouched. The slamming door echoed through the chamber.
“How did you get here, Bjarki?” Alora slightly changed the subject.
“We had been sent out on a mission te scout out the neighbourin’ land, but the boat had been attacked by a great creature from the depths. One we ne'er seen before. It left our boat in pieces. I be forgettin how exactly I got here, but I came alone. Me and ol’ Börkk were the only ones that made it. I’m not sure if the dragon of the deep got the rest...” Bjarki fell silent.
“Thank you for sharing Bjarki. When you’re done your meal, Edmund will escort you home.” Alora stood from her seat and walked around the table towards the door, passing Bjarki on her way. Bjarki grabbed Alora’s arm tightly.
“Queenie, I don’t think ye understand what world ye got yerself in” Bjarki’s cold eyes stared into Alora’s, “Ye need to heed my warnings, child. Learn about the world ye be in. If ye think that anti-god is done, ye be wrong. He’s hidin’ out in a place of death. A place we be never venturin’. An old elvish colony lived there long ago. It be called Malgosfrom.” Her eyes trailed towards the food her grip releasing on Alora’s arm just slightly.
“Do ye really even know what’s beyond yer kingdom walls, child? Do ye?”
xxx
The sun of a new day, crept through Alora’s window. She had not slept even an hour that night. The last words of the dwarf had resonated in her head. She called to a servant walking the halls, requesting a meeting with Edmund as soon as possible. An hour passed when Alora had heard the knock at her door.
“Come in, Edmund” Alora’s voice raised.
“You requested a meeting, Alora?” Edmund poked his head through the door.
“Yes, come in. Don’t just stand in the door.” She said, motioning him inside.
“Listen to me, Edmund. I think it is important that we know the world we live in” Alora started, but Edmund did not let her continue.
“You really believe the words she’s saying?? Alora are you listening to yourself?”
“What is it that you cannot believe, Edmund? She looks vastly different than us. Why is there a reason not to believe her? We have gods that come and go, dragons, a demon that tried to kill me, Edmund! Why should we sit here and wait for him to come back. We could find resources on this land that can help our kingdom. She’s right, we haven’t even scoped out this land we’re on. If she’s right… we do not know what else can come.” Alora’s eyes met Edmund’s, almost pleading for him to understand. “I just want you to take some citizens and go on a scouting mission. Map out our land, lakes, rivers, any major landmarks that can be helpful in the future.”
Edmund sighed and looked away. He shook his head and slid his hand through his greying hair. “Who am I going to take, I cannot take Azari. This could be potentially far too dangerous for that, I will not risk the life of Acacius’ child for a scouting mission.” He said sternly.
Alora smiled,
“You’ll take Jemima.”
xxx
Scouting: Isles of Invermay
Written by HoT-Stables – 08 September 2019
Edmund, sitting atop Jemima, stood at the castle gates in front of the small group he had gathered together. This “scouting” mission, or so Alora liked to put it, seemed to Edmund like a waste of time. He had been more focused on getting the horses trained and fixing up parts of the village that had been destroyed.
“Alright group,” he called for the attention of those that were present, his eyes shifting to Inktober who stood with a new guard atop of him swaying slightly from side to side nervously. Inktober was one of the more shaky stallions; no matter how much practice Edmund had put him through, there was only so much they could do at home in the stable grounds. Since this scouting mission was on home soil, Edmund had figured a nice trip experiencing areas he had never seen before would give Inktober the confidence boost he desperately needed. “Grab your things, it’s time to move out.” His eyes traveled to the map makers “Do you have enough supplies? We won’t be extending this for longer than need be. We won’t be coming back for supplies”.
The small group of map makers nodded, understanding what Edmund had asked of them.
“We’ll start south and work our way up the coast.” He said sternly, turning Jemima at the same time travelling through the castle gate. As the last of the group exited, the guards dropped the gate.
xxx
“Queen!
QUEEN!”
One of the castle workers had burst through Alora’s door.
“There’s…There’s been a problem on the mission” he continued, words slurring together. His heavy breathing and panic on his face caused Alora’s heart to race.
“Where are they???” Alora rushed out the door, the worker following close behind.
“My Queen…” he slowed his pace “They’re in the courtyard.”
“The courtyard?” Alora turned to face the red faced worker, his eyes turned to the floor, “why?” she questioned.
“There’s....There’s been a fatality.” His demeanor shrunk back as if Alora would come for his head.
Alora’s heart dropped, “who?” her voice quiet.
“Inktober…”
xxx
Alora had made her way through the castle courtyard, making her way through the cherry blossom trees; their leaves starting to turn orange with the passing season. She could hear the sounds of scraping soil getting nearer. As she approached, the small group had put the finishing piles of soil atop a freshly dug grave.
“It’s true,” Alora’s voice almost beginning to tremor, “Inktober has passed?”
Edmund shook his head slowly, reaffirming the rumor to be true. His eyes fixated on the disturbed soil. Around them, the auburn leaves danced to the ground, light reflecting off of the badges of all the past generals who had been taken from them. They stood in silence, wind dancing around them, for what seemed like centuries. One by one, the group dispersed leaving only Edmund and Alora paying their respects.
“You were right,” Edmund whispered, “there is much here we don’t understand. Much on this land we need to learn.”
“I need you to tell me what happened, Edmund. What caused this?” Alora’s tone matching Edmund's.
Edmund recounted his story to Alora.
The group had been making their way along a mountain side that bordered a forest on one side and a deep gorge on the other. They had decided to take shelter in the forest for the night, following single file in a line heading slowly downward towards the forest entrance. Edmund had ordered Inktober and his rider to follow the pack, riding last due to his past history of bolting. If Inktober attempted to bolt, he’d go face first into the horse’s rear in front.
There had been some unnoticed movement in the trees up ahead. A creature had been watching the pack for quite some time. A large male Silvis dragon, territorial of his land, had been stalking the group. Despite the surroundings around this dragon slowly turning orange with the season, the group had not noticed his bright green, healthy leaves. The citizens of Aleria had rarely encountered these dragons in their own environment previous to this, they had no idea how these dragons would act.
As the group drew nearer, the Silvis dragon grew angrier. The earth beneath the group began to rumble, small rocks starting to slip and fall creating cracks and crevices in the mountain side. Edmund and Jemima had been closest to the ground, with the rest of his group higher up on the mountain. Edmund could hear something coming from the forest but could not see. He motioned for the group to follow him, hurrying them down the side of the shaking mountain. As Jemima stepped from rock to rock, he caught a glimpse of light shimmering through the tall trees. There, splayed out over the length of 3 trees, sat the largest Silvis Edmund had ever seen.
Edmund’s head turned to face the group above him, but his recognition of the Silvis had been too late. As Inktober had stepped across onto one of the larger rock formations, the boulder gave way underneath him. Edmund watched in horror as both Inktober and his rider plummeted, mangling themselves on the mountain as they fell.
“And you still managed to get the rest of the group out of that situation safely? How?” Alora questioned, not meaning to sound like she was questioning his leadership. “That came out wrong, I apologize.”
“We ran, there was not much we could do. We weren’t prepared for war, we were prepared to fend off smaller creatures and the dragons we’re used to… This one… this one was legendary.” He replied, his eyes never leaving the grave. “We went back the next morning. The dragon made it easy to carry the rest home.” His voice trailed off.
They sat in silence for a minute, both pondering their options going forward.
“We were unprepared. We’ll finish the rest of the island with a larger group and much more artillery. We don’t know what’s truly out there, this is serious. There is much more at stake, we could lose a lot more lives.” Edmund turned to face Alora, “Maybe it’s time you spoke to Bjarki again to see what other tales she’s got cooking up.” He placed a hand on Alora’s shoulder, saying nothing more.
xxx
The larger group had finished scouting the islands, they faced creatures they’d never seen before, they had seen large herds of wild Nordanner running freely over valleys and thriving along the mountainside. The discoverers gathered any and all items that could possibly come in handy, even if they had no idea what they could be used for, they kept them anyways just in case.
Alora had greeted the group at the gates as they arrived, patting Jemima as she excitedly walked by. Jemima had seemed like the only horse that had not taken a toll being out there exploring. “Edmund, don’t untack her yet, we need to have a few words” Alora called out. Edmund waved his hand, calling out that he’d be there in a minute.
Edmund had left Jemima with a guard out front, telling him he’d be back shortly. Alora had been waiting in the front hall for him to arrive.
“Shortly?” Alora’s frustration clearly visible. It had been a few hours since the group had arrived home and Alora’s request to talk with Edmund.
“I was making the rounds, Alora. Making sure the generals all were ok. They seem to have taken a beating out there. I left Jemima tacked, as per your request.” He replied, taking a seat on one of the benches. “What is so utterly important that this could not wait until the morning?”
“Pirates!” Alora exclaimed, “We’ve got pirates!”
“Pirates…? Or some fisherman thinking they’re going to sail the seas to discover what’s out on the open water.” Edmund shrugged off the idea of pirates, clearly the kingdom had more important things to worry about. Like giant magic wielding, earth controlling dragons.
“Well, they claim to be pirates but I don’t entirely know how much… pirating… they’ve done. Either way, they said they’ve been to the Isles of Invermay before… Like before we went. Before our fight…” Her eyes trailed downwards, recalling her last visit to the Isles, “...they’ve got a basic map of the shoreline.” she continued, not letting the horrid feelings intrude her train of thought, “and bigger boats too. You should go talk to them, see how much information you can gather about the Isles. It might be a good place to set off too next, it seems like they’re our closest neighbour after all” Alora’s eyes met with Edmund who sat completely unmotivated staring up at Alora.
“You’re sending me to the Isles next? After what happened there the last time?” Edmund’s face drained of all emotions.
“Yep.” Alora answered rather cheerfully. “Oh, but before you go, I did do some talking to Bjarki while you were away, like you suggested.”
“...and?” Sarcasm clear in Edmund’s voice.
“She told me stories about an old elvish civilization that used to dominate the Isles and the islands north of it. The description she gave was similar to that of what Swadic looked like. The stories she told had tall temples with thriving life until war and famine had obliterated them all. These are stories from long ago. The island is filled with life, however none humanoid. Remnants of their civilization can still be seen.” Alora paused to catch her breath. After a few seconds, she continued, “She told me about the waters surrounding the Isles; about the life in the corals. There is a herd of horses that live strictly underwater in the depths around Invermay. Legend has it, the war and anti-god’s presence drove the herd into the water. An elvish mage had transformed them, setting them free of the anti-gods hold. The magic there is old and ancient, but the horses look very similar to those have oceanpearl used on them, however irreversible. She said the Elvish locals had called them the Fish of Sirion before their society had inevitably perished.”
“Ahh, water horses, gotcha.” Edmund slowly picked himself up.
“No, not just water horses, Edmund. The magic there is unlike anything we’ve seen before. I am letting you know that this herd still exists. They are still thriving, even though this elvish civilization died out many, many years ago. They are breeding, their magic and traits are passed down to each new generation.” Alora could have continued for hours about the Sirion herd, but Edmund had to stop her.
“I understand, Alora. I promise.” Edmund patted Alora’s shoulder, “I’ll go have a word with our pirates.”
xxx
The sun had started to rise on the fishing quarter of the kingdom. A large group that Edmund had gathered collected near the rear gate. Bjarki’s cackle could be heard from inside her hut, Borkk’s bark filled the morning air. It had been two days since Edmund had made his way to this very quarter to confront the so-called pirates. They had given him their small scribble of a shoreline map and information he had already known about the islands. It was the blind leading the blind.
The pirates had agreed to lend the group their ships, so long as they could tag along and keep any goodies they found on their way. Edmund had reluctantly agreed, simply because he needed the boats. Flying would not work this time, due to the large amount of supplies and armour the horses would be carrying, along with collecting any and all items they could find to help aid the map makers and bestiary log keepers.
One by one, Edmund had loaded the volunteers and their horses onto the ships, securing Jemima in last.
“I hope we don’t end up sleeping with the Fishes, Jemima.” He chuckled to himself as his hand slid down her face. “Don’t think you’d do too well down there without a tail.” The boat rocked violently, being pushed off the shoreline. They had set their sails westbound.
The trip to the most eastern island took about a day, making landfall midday. The pirates had taken care of securing their boats, while the others prepared for travel. Edmund patted Jemima as he shifted his weight in her saddle. Every step she took was like a bounce; she thrived in new environments. He brought her to a halt at the front of the group, who were now almost ready. Jemima’s hooves sunk into the sand causing her to shift every so often. He had been all to familiar with this location; it had been the exact same location they had first landed after following Vramien. It was like some unknown force were playing games with them, something that wanted them to land in that area, there was no way it could be a coincidence. A territory this big, and both times they made landfall in the same location?
Edmund kept his thoughts to himself, glancing back at some of the veterans who had been there that day. Their expressions while examining their surroundings made it very clear that Edmund was not alone in those feelings. Silently, he kicked Jemima and they started off.
Edmund, sitting atop Jemima, stood at the castle gates in front of the small group he had gathered together. This “scouting” mission, or so Alora liked to put it, seemed to Edmund like a waste of time. He had been more focused on getting the horses trained and fixing up parts of the village that had been destroyed.
“Alright group,” he called for the attention of those that were present, his eyes shifting to Inktober who stood with a new guard atop of him swaying slightly from side to side nervously. Inktober was one of the more shaky stallions; no matter how much practice Edmund had put him through, there was only so much they could do at home in the stable grounds. Since this scouting mission was on home soil, Edmund had figured a nice trip experiencing areas he had never seen before would give Inktober the confidence boost he desperately needed. “Grab your things, it’s time to move out.” His eyes traveled to the map makers “Do you have enough supplies? We won’t be extending this for longer than need be. We won’t be coming back for supplies”.
The small group of map makers nodded, understanding what Edmund had asked of them.
“We’ll start south and work our way up the coast.” He said sternly, turning Jemima at the same time travelling through the castle gate. As the last of the group exited, the guards dropped the gate.
xxx
“Queen!
QUEEN!”
One of the castle workers had burst through Alora’s door.
“There’s…There’s been a problem on the mission” he continued, words slurring together. His heavy breathing and panic on his face caused Alora’s heart to race.
“Where are they???” Alora rushed out the door, the worker following close behind.
“My Queen…” he slowed his pace “They’re in the courtyard.”
“The courtyard?” Alora turned to face the red faced worker, his eyes turned to the floor, “why?” she questioned.
“There’s....There’s been a fatality.” His demeanor shrunk back as if Alora would come for his head.
Alora’s heart dropped, “who?” her voice quiet.
“Inktober…”
xxx
Alora had made her way through the castle courtyard, making her way through the cherry blossom trees; their leaves starting to turn orange with the passing season. She could hear the sounds of scraping soil getting nearer. As she approached, the small group had put the finishing piles of soil atop a freshly dug grave.
“It’s true,” Alora’s voice almost beginning to tremor, “Inktober has passed?”
Edmund shook his head slowly, reaffirming the rumor to be true. His eyes fixated on the disturbed soil. Around them, the auburn leaves danced to the ground, light reflecting off of the badges of all the past generals who had been taken from them. They stood in silence, wind dancing around them, for what seemed like centuries. One by one, the group dispersed leaving only Edmund and Alora paying their respects.
“You were right,” Edmund whispered, “there is much here we don’t understand. Much on this land we need to learn.”
“I need you to tell me what happened, Edmund. What caused this?” Alora’s tone matching Edmund's.
Edmund recounted his story to Alora.
The group had been making their way along a mountain side that bordered a forest on one side and a deep gorge on the other. They had decided to take shelter in the forest for the night, following single file in a line heading slowly downward towards the forest entrance. Edmund had ordered Inktober and his rider to follow the pack, riding last due to his past history of bolting. If Inktober attempted to bolt, he’d go face first into the horse’s rear in front.
There had been some unnoticed movement in the trees up ahead. A creature had been watching the pack for quite some time. A large male Silvis dragon, territorial of his land, had been stalking the group. Despite the surroundings around this dragon slowly turning orange with the season, the group had not noticed his bright green, healthy leaves. The citizens of Aleria had rarely encountered these dragons in their own environment previous to this, they had no idea how these dragons would act.
As the group drew nearer, the Silvis dragon grew angrier. The earth beneath the group began to rumble, small rocks starting to slip and fall creating cracks and crevices in the mountain side. Edmund and Jemima had been closest to the ground, with the rest of his group higher up on the mountain. Edmund could hear something coming from the forest but could not see. He motioned for the group to follow him, hurrying them down the side of the shaking mountain. As Jemima stepped from rock to rock, he caught a glimpse of light shimmering through the tall trees. There, splayed out over the length of 3 trees, sat the largest Silvis Edmund had ever seen.
Edmund’s head turned to face the group above him, but his recognition of the Silvis had been too late. As Inktober had stepped across onto one of the larger rock formations, the boulder gave way underneath him. Edmund watched in horror as both Inktober and his rider plummeted, mangling themselves on the mountain as they fell.
“And you still managed to get the rest of the group out of that situation safely? How?” Alora questioned, not meaning to sound like she was questioning his leadership. “That came out wrong, I apologize.”
“We ran, there was not much we could do. We weren’t prepared for war, we were prepared to fend off smaller creatures and the dragons we’re used to… This one… this one was legendary.” He replied, his eyes never leaving the grave. “We went back the next morning. The dragon made it easy to carry the rest home.” His voice trailed off.
They sat in silence for a minute, both pondering their options going forward.
“We were unprepared. We’ll finish the rest of the island with a larger group and much more artillery. We don’t know what’s truly out there, this is serious. There is much more at stake, we could lose a lot more lives.” Edmund turned to face Alora, “Maybe it’s time you spoke to Bjarki again to see what other tales she’s got cooking up.” He placed a hand on Alora’s shoulder, saying nothing more.
xxx
The larger group had finished scouting the islands, they faced creatures they’d never seen before, they had seen large herds of wild Nordanner running freely over valleys and thriving along the mountainside. The discoverers gathered any and all items that could possibly come in handy, even if they had no idea what they could be used for, they kept them anyways just in case.
Alora had greeted the group at the gates as they arrived, patting Jemima as she excitedly walked by. Jemima had seemed like the only horse that had not taken a toll being out there exploring. “Edmund, don’t untack her yet, we need to have a few words” Alora called out. Edmund waved his hand, calling out that he’d be there in a minute.
Edmund had left Jemima with a guard out front, telling him he’d be back shortly. Alora had been waiting in the front hall for him to arrive.
“Shortly?” Alora’s frustration clearly visible. It had been a few hours since the group had arrived home and Alora’s request to talk with Edmund.
“I was making the rounds, Alora. Making sure the generals all were ok. They seem to have taken a beating out there. I left Jemima tacked, as per your request.” He replied, taking a seat on one of the benches. “What is so utterly important that this could not wait until the morning?”
“Pirates!” Alora exclaimed, “We’ve got pirates!”
“Pirates…? Or some fisherman thinking they’re going to sail the seas to discover what’s out on the open water.” Edmund shrugged off the idea of pirates, clearly the kingdom had more important things to worry about. Like giant magic wielding, earth controlling dragons.
“Well, they claim to be pirates but I don’t entirely know how much… pirating… they’ve done. Either way, they said they’ve been to the Isles of Invermay before… Like before we went. Before our fight…” Her eyes trailed downwards, recalling her last visit to the Isles, “...they’ve got a basic map of the shoreline.” she continued, not letting the horrid feelings intrude her train of thought, “and bigger boats too. You should go talk to them, see how much information you can gather about the Isles. It might be a good place to set off too next, it seems like they’re our closest neighbour after all” Alora’s eyes met with Edmund who sat completely unmotivated staring up at Alora.
“You’re sending me to the Isles next? After what happened there the last time?” Edmund’s face drained of all emotions.
“Yep.” Alora answered rather cheerfully. “Oh, but before you go, I did do some talking to Bjarki while you were away, like you suggested.”
“...and?” Sarcasm clear in Edmund’s voice.
“She told me stories about an old elvish civilization that used to dominate the Isles and the islands north of it. The description she gave was similar to that of what Swadic looked like. The stories she told had tall temples with thriving life until war and famine had obliterated them all. These are stories from long ago. The island is filled with life, however none humanoid. Remnants of their civilization can still be seen.” Alora paused to catch her breath. After a few seconds, she continued, “She told me about the waters surrounding the Isles; about the life in the corals. There is a herd of horses that live strictly underwater in the depths around Invermay. Legend has it, the war and anti-god’s presence drove the herd into the water. An elvish mage had transformed them, setting them free of the anti-gods hold. The magic there is old and ancient, but the horses look very similar to those have oceanpearl used on them, however irreversible. She said the Elvish locals had called them the Fish of Sirion before their society had inevitably perished.”
“Ahh, water horses, gotcha.” Edmund slowly picked himself up.
“No, not just water horses, Edmund. The magic there is unlike anything we’ve seen before. I am letting you know that this herd still exists. They are still thriving, even though this elvish civilization died out many, many years ago. They are breeding, their magic and traits are passed down to each new generation.” Alora could have continued for hours about the Sirion herd, but Edmund had to stop her.
“I understand, Alora. I promise.” Edmund patted Alora’s shoulder, “I’ll go have a word with our pirates.”
xxx
The sun had started to rise on the fishing quarter of the kingdom. A large group that Edmund had gathered collected near the rear gate. Bjarki’s cackle could be heard from inside her hut, Borkk’s bark filled the morning air. It had been two days since Edmund had made his way to this very quarter to confront the so-called pirates. They had given him their small scribble of a shoreline map and information he had already known about the islands. It was the blind leading the blind.
The pirates had agreed to lend the group their ships, so long as they could tag along and keep any goodies they found on their way. Edmund had reluctantly agreed, simply because he needed the boats. Flying would not work this time, due to the large amount of supplies and armour the horses would be carrying, along with collecting any and all items they could find to help aid the map makers and bestiary log keepers.
One by one, Edmund had loaded the volunteers and their horses onto the ships, securing Jemima in last.
“I hope we don’t end up sleeping with the Fishes, Jemima.” He chuckled to himself as his hand slid down her face. “Don’t think you’d do too well down there without a tail.” The boat rocked violently, being pushed off the shoreline. They had set their sails westbound.
The trip to the most eastern island took about a day, making landfall midday. The pirates had taken care of securing their boats, while the others prepared for travel. Edmund patted Jemima as he shifted his weight in her saddle. Every step she took was like a bounce; she thrived in new environments. He brought her to a halt at the front of the group, who were now almost ready. Jemima’s hooves sunk into the sand causing her to shift every so often. He had been all to familiar with this location; it had been the exact same location they had first landed after following Vramien. It was like some unknown force were playing games with them, something that wanted them to land in that area, there was no way it could be a coincidence. A territory this big, and both times they made landfall in the same location?
Edmund kept his thoughts to himself, glancing back at some of the veterans who had been there that day. Their expressions while examining their surroundings made it very clear that Edmund was not alone in those feelings. Silently, he kicked Jemima and they started off.
Scouting: Korandyre
Written by HoT-Stables – 15 September 2019
This trip to the Isles of Invermay had gone over much better than the previous time. The team had scouted and mapped 10 or so larger islands with many smaller ones off of the coasts. They had made their way around the islands and back in record time, collecting items they thought were interesting and rare as they went along. Some picked up seashells to bring back to loved ones, others grabbed herbs that aren’t seen growing around Aleria in case they could come in handy for spells or simply taste nice in food.
As night fell, the ship was slowly emptied by the group and “pirates” that had tagged along. Edmund had thanked them for their services, threw them a little extra gold and went their separate ways. Edmund had not kept much in terms of items or keepsakes and he stayed far away from their previous expedition himself. He sent a few map makers out that way while the rest had set camp for the night. Thinking back, sending a small crew out on their own into that area was not a smart move, but things turned out just fine. It was in the group’s best interests that Edmund had not revisited that time in his life.
Edmund had turned in for the night, not alerting Alora or the rest of the castle he had returned.
xxx
While Edmund had been gone, Alora had been out in the kingdom a lot more. She had made specific visits to Bjarki, and Bjarki had made many visits to the castle. They often sat for hours listening to her describe the places she had been, the adventures she had been on. Alora’s kingdom thought Bjarki was a crazy, kooky old woman. She may be a bit kooky and wild spirited but she was nowhere near crazy.
Around mid afternoon the town medic had been doing some follow ups on some injuries a few generals had received. He had noticed Azari looking lethargic with a full bowl of grain left. When he had finished his rounds, he made his way back to her stall to see her laying down with untouched food. Azari was a food mongrel, leaving food for hours untouched was unlike her. The medic called for Alora immediately.
It had been on a day where Bjarki had been present; so along with Alora came the elderly lady and her dog. They both made their way through the kingdom, taking a shortcut through the courtyard and out into the castle barn. By the time the two arrived, the medic had already had Azari out of her stall. She held her head low, her ears slanted off to the sides of her head.
“We have a problem” sternly said the medic.
“A problem? With Azari??” Alora quickened her pace, leaving Bjarki and Börkk at the end of the stables to catch up.
“There’s… a wound.” He started, pointing to the bottom of her stomach.
Alora cut him off, “a wound is something we can deal with, right?”
“Y-yes, but let me continue.” He leaned underneath and placed a hand underneath her. He pulled his hand back out; covering his fingertips was an ooze. The smell almost punched both of them in the face. It was black, almost oil like with an iridescent slick where it hit the light. As it dripped onto the ground, it splattered and dissipated into a familiar purple hue, one that Edmund and Alora had seen all too well.
“Griffin…” Alora whispered, her hand atop her mouth.
The medic looked up from his hands to Alora’s face, not sure what to make of her expression. As he rubbed the substance together through his fingertips his eyes drifted back down to it. “I… I’ve never seen this type of fluid or this type of wound. It feels and acts like blood but…” He wiped his hands clean of the existing fluid and placed his hand back under her stomach. “This wound starts around her own belly button and drifts back to her utters. The flesh doesn’t feel clean, nothing sharp made this wound. It was dull and most likely incredibly painful.”
“How could this happen? She’s been in the barn since we’ve found out she’s in foal?” Alora started to panic.
“Surely you would have heard some sort of commotion…” The medic replied, pulling his hands back out from underneath the tall chestnut. He brushed his hands off against his pants, watching the ooze fade to purple smoke.
A familiar voice chuckled behind them. Alora had forgotten Bjarki had been in their presence this whole time. Alora turned, with an immediate reaction to be angry at the sound of Bjarki’s laughter. Bjarki gave her no time to speak.
“Ah, ye be in trouble with this one, Queenie,” Bjarki started, “She be in foal, yea?” she hobbled over to the mare who stood feet above her. “I’ve only heard about this in the stories I’ve been told as a youngin’, but I remember the description like it be the day I was hearin’ it. Black as his soul, smellin’ like the corpses of 1000 bodies, followed by a purple fog.”
Both Alora and the medic had stood there in silence, eyes following the ancient dwarf. She had reached up underneath with her own fingers to grab a bit of the substance.
“Yer horse here, she be poisoned.” Bjarki stopped and turned, meeting Alora’s gaze.
“I… how… she’s been here the whole time. There’s no --” Bjarki had cut Alora off by raising the same hand, allowing the black fluid to slowly ooze downwards across her palm.
“This wound be festerin’ fer some time. Nothin’ on the outside o' this mare be causin’ it. It be comin’ from the inside…” She placed her slimy hand on Azari’s side, where the foal would be developing. “If ye don’t rid her o' the poison, she will join her mate.”
“Her… her foal is causing this?? How is that possible?” Alora shook her head in disbelief.
“Queenie, ye were there but… ye weren’t there. If ye know what'I mean. She was in close proximity to the anti-god. At any point in yer stay on the island, this coulda happened. He knows all. He can smell it. Yer stallion planted a seed, but so did he… letting it sit and fester. Like a parasite, growing from within, it be feedin’ off of Azari’s life force...The longer it be sittin’ in there, the less of a chance this mare has a chance at survivin’.”
Edmund had been standing at the entrance of the stable doors, not realizing what he was walking into. He had heard only the last bit of the conversation, but it was more than enough to catch him up to speed with how the kingdom was doing.
“Edmund, I…” Alora started. Edmund had cut her off but shaking his head, he didn’t want to hear excuses.
“What of this poison, how do we rid of it?” Edmund asked, taking her lead rope and having a look for himself.
“Queenie, now he be askin’ for my help,” She chucked, pointing one finger at Edmund and smiling at Alora. Edmund’s glare from underneath Azari’s stomach was enough for Bjarki to start talking. “The land north of ‘ere, it be a big, uncharted land. We call it ‘Korandyire’. The magic that thrives in this land, it be strong enough to bring the dead back. No humanoid livin’ today be powerful to live there. It’s filled with trees and plants made out o' arcane… It be attached to where Kothrandyl rests forever. The land has a direct source to the magic, which changes the land. It be changin’ everythin’ that be livin’ there.” She paused, glancing at Edmund to see if her answers appeased him.
He raised an eyebrow, “and where does the cure come from? This land, okay. But, exactly where?” He questioned, motioning at her to get to the point.
“Now, it be said, that if ye gather a basket of the magic glowin’ Mushrooms and a pot o’ the water made of Arcane, ye can boil a cure. The water be comin’ straight from Kothrandyl. His light be the strongest thing. The mushrooms help deliver his magic into the bloodstream without destroyin’ or changin’ the rest of the body.” She shook her head, quite confident in the information she had given Edmund.
“Magic mushrooms, really?” Edmund’s face contorted to show his disbelief.
“Like I be sayin’, the mushrooms are only to inject to help aid the water.” She replied, putting down his sarcasm.
Edmund sighed and stood back up, working his way around to the front of his mare. He ran his hands through her forelock bringing her head to his chest. The medic had leaned in, requesting access to her lead rope.
“I do think it’s best we isolate her and clean her up, sir.” The medic’s eyes looked remorsefully at Edmund’s. Edmund nodded and handed off his mare. The medic took her and they slowly made their way out. Edmund stared at her, watching her slowly make her way behind the medic. The way she walked, it was like she was a different mare. His eyes went from her tail to the drips of ooze she had trailed behind her. His hand clenched in anger.
Alora placed a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we discuss our next course of action over dinner?” She almost whispered, “It’ll be nice for you to get some home cooked meals into you.”
He turned his head and nodded, “I’ll meet you in the dining hall for dinner” he replied.
xxx
As the day progressed, Edmund had become increasingly worried. The conversation over dinner felt rushed with an overall dreary tone. They needed to get this as fast as possible in Edmund’s mind, however Bjarki had warned them that there were large, unknown enemy creatures that they needed to be wary of.
The best course of action was to take their time and plan their moves, plot out where and how they would get the things they needed to get. Bjarki had given them a general location of where Kothrandyl was located, she headed a warning though. They were not to go directly into his light. The magic shooting out was too strong for anything living and would disintegrate anything that went into it. The lake of arcane was located much further east.
They had decided that they would set sail in two days time, enough time to gather supplies and the amount of people they would need.
“I guess I’m going back to speak to the pirates” Edmund said as he left the dining hall.
xxx
The boat shook violently. It was the middle of the night, everyone had been asleep except the crewman who were taking the night shift. The boat had hit a large rock which had been scraping the side of the large wooden structure. Edmund jumped from his sleep, jolting to the source of the noise. The closer he got, the wetter his feet had become.
“It’s alright. We’ve hit a rock. There’s damage, but nothin’ that we ain’t seen before. Looks like ya’ll are swimmin’ from here. Us three will stay back and fix’er up. If we have time, we’ll catch up with ye.” The captain had said, while motioning at the other two to grab tools.
Edmund had made his way back to his room to gather his belongings and throw his clothes on. As he passed each room he greeted the group who were woken up by the shaking, explaining they were setting out. He made his way up the stairs and opened the door to the deck. Before him shot a large beam of light into the sky. He raised his hands above his face, not used to the light quite yet. It was the dead of night, but the light illuminated the top of the trees like it was day. The beam, even though it was clearly incredibly far away, felt like he could reach out and touch it. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
His eyes danced from the light to the trees and plants. The entire forest glowed of blue and purple. His eyes couldn’t compute the images and shapes in front of them as a forest. They were unlike any colour or shape that he’d ever seen. The only green he could see was that of grass and some leaves, but the rest danced a beautiful shade of blue and purple, mixing in some white. The rest of the group had joined him on deck, staring out into the unknown seemingly thinking the same thing. The group stood in quiet awe, admiring the shores they’ve never touched before. Suddenly, Edmund realized just how little he knew about the world they lived in.
One of the pirate crew piped up interrupting the silence, “What, ya never seen Kory in all’er glory before?” He chuckled and moved through the group, making his way to a set of spare planks. With the silence broken, the group all moved separate ways to gather their things and collect their horses.
The crewman dropped the boarding ramp, it hit a rock just below the water, allowing the horses easy access into the ocean. Edmund looked back at his crew, leading Jemima into the water.
“Don’t delay, we don’t know what lurks in these waters” Edmund called back.
This trip to the Isles of Invermay had gone over much better than the previous time. The team had scouted and mapped 10 or so larger islands with many smaller ones off of the coasts. They had made their way around the islands and back in record time, collecting items they thought were interesting and rare as they went along. Some picked up seashells to bring back to loved ones, others grabbed herbs that aren’t seen growing around Aleria in case they could come in handy for spells or simply taste nice in food.
As night fell, the ship was slowly emptied by the group and “pirates” that had tagged along. Edmund had thanked them for their services, threw them a little extra gold and went their separate ways. Edmund had not kept much in terms of items or keepsakes and he stayed far away from their previous expedition himself. He sent a few map makers out that way while the rest had set camp for the night. Thinking back, sending a small crew out on their own into that area was not a smart move, but things turned out just fine. It was in the group’s best interests that Edmund had not revisited that time in his life.
Edmund had turned in for the night, not alerting Alora or the rest of the castle he had returned.
xxx
While Edmund had been gone, Alora had been out in the kingdom a lot more. She had made specific visits to Bjarki, and Bjarki had made many visits to the castle. They often sat for hours listening to her describe the places she had been, the adventures she had been on. Alora’s kingdom thought Bjarki was a crazy, kooky old woman. She may be a bit kooky and wild spirited but she was nowhere near crazy.
Around mid afternoon the town medic had been doing some follow ups on some injuries a few generals had received. He had noticed Azari looking lethargic with a full bowl of grain left. When he had finished his rounds, he made his way back to her stall to see her laying down with untouched food. Azari was a food mongrel, leaving food for hours untouched was unlike her. The medic called for Alora immediately.
It had been on a day where Bjarki had been present; so along with Alora came the elderly lady and her dog. They both made their way through the kingdom, taking a shortcut through the courtyard and out into the castle barn. By the time the two arrived, the medic had already had Azari out of her stall. She held her head low, her ears slanted off to the sides of her head.
“We have a problem” sternly said the medic.
“A problem? With Azari??” Alora quickened her pace, leaving Bjarki and Börkk at the end of the stables to catch up.
“There’s… a wound.” He started, pointing to the bottom of her stomach.
Alora cut him off, “a wound is something we can deal with, right?”
“Y-yes, but let me continue.” He leaned underneath and placed a hand underneath her. He pulled his hand back out; covering his fingertips was an ooze. The smell almost punched both of them in the face. It was black, almost oil like with an iridescent slick where it hit the light. As it dripped onto the ground, it splattered and dissipated into a familiar purple hue, one that Edmund and Alora had seen all too well.
“Griffin…” Alora whispered, her hand atop her mouth.
The medic looked up from his hands to Alora’s face, not sure what to make of her expression. As he rubbed the substance together through his fingertips his eyes drifted back down to it. “I… I’ve never seen this type of fluid or this type of wound. It feels and acts like blood but…” He wiped his hands clean of the existing fluid and placed his hand back under her stomach. “This wound starts around her own belly button and drifts back to her utters. The flesh doesn’t feel clean, nothing sharp made this wound. It was dull and most likely incredibly painful.”
“How could this happen? She’s been in the barn since we’ve found out she’s in foal?” Alora started to panic.
“Surely you would have heard some sort of commotion…” The medic replied, pulling his hands back out from underneath the tall chestnut. He brushed his hands off against his pants, watching the ooze fade to purple smoke.
A familiar voice chuckled behind them. Alora had forgotten Bjarki had been in their presence this whole time. Alora turned, with an immediate reaction to be angry at the sound of Bjarki’s laughter. Bjarki gave her no time to speak.
“Ah, ye be in trouble with this one, Queenie,” Bjarki started, “She be in foal, yea?” she hobbled over to the mare who stood feet above her. “I’ve only heard about this in the stories I’ve been told as a youngin’, but I remember the description like it be the day I was hearin’ it. Black as his soul, smellin’ like the corpses of 1000 bodies, followed by a purple fog.”
Both Alora and the medic had stood there in silence, eyes following the ancient dwarf. She had reached up underneath with her own fingers to grab a bit of the substance.
“Yer horse here, she be poisoned.” Bjarki stopped and turned, meeting Alora’s gaze.
“I… how… she’s been here the whole time. There’s no --” Bjarki had cut Alora off by raising the same hand, allowing the black fluid to slowly ooze downwards across her palm.
“This wound be festerin’ fer some time. Nothin’ on the outside o' this mare be causin’ it. It be comin’ from the inside…” She placed her slimy hand on Azari’s side, where the foal would be developing. “If ye don’t rid her o' the poison, she will join her mate.”
“Her… her foal is causing this?? How is that possible?” Alora shook her head in disbelief.
“Queenie, ye were there but… ye weren’t there. If ye know what'I mean. She was in close proximity to the anti-god. At any point in yer stay on the island, this coulda happened. He knows all. He can smell it. Yer stallion planted a seed, but so did he… letting it sit and fester. Like a parasite, growing from within, it be feedin’ off of Azari’s life force...The longer it be sittin’ in there, the less of a chance this mare has a chance at survivin’.”
Edmund had been standing at the entrance of the stable doors, not realizing what he was walking into. He had heard only the last bit of the conversation, but it was more than enough to catch him up to speed with how the kingdom was doing.
“Edmund, I…” Alora started. Edmund had cut her off but shaking his head, he didn’t want to hear excuses.
“What of this poison, how do we rid of it?” Edmund asked, taking her lead rope and having a look for himself.
“Queenie, now he be askin’ for my help,” She chucked, pointing one finger at Edmund and smiling at Alora. Edmund’s glare from underneath Azari’s stomach was enough for Bjarki to start talking. “The land north of ‘ere, it be a big, uncharted land. We call it ‘Korandyire’. The magic that thrives in this land, it be strong enough to bring the dead back. No humanoid livin’ today be powerful to live there. It’s filled with trees and plants made out o' arcane… It be attached to where Kothrandyl rests forever. The land has a direct source to the magic, which changes the land. It be changin’ everythin’ that be livin’ there.” She paused, glancing at Edmund to see if her answers appeased him.
He raised an eyebrow, “and where does the cure come from? This land, okay. But, exactly where?” He questioned, motioning at her to get to the point.
“Now, it be said, that if ye gather a basket of the magic glowin’ Mushrooms and a pot o’ the water made of Arcane, ye can boil a cure. The water be comin’ straight from Kothrandyl. His light be the strongest thing. The mushrooms help deliver his magic into the bloodstream without destroyin’ or changin’ the rest of the body.” She shook her head, quite confident in the information she had given Edmund.
“Magic mushrooms, really?” Edmund’s face contorted to show his disbelief.
“Like I be sayin’, the mushrooms are only to inject to help aid the water.” She replied, putting down his sarcasm.
Edmund sighed and stood back up, working his way around to the front of his mare. He ran his hands through her forelock bringing her head to his chest. The medic had leaned in, requesting access to her lead rope.
“I do think it’s best we isolate her and clean her up, sir.” The medic’s eyes looked remorsefully at Edmund’s. Edmund nodded and handed off his mare. The medic took her and they slowly made their way out. Edmund stared at her, watching her slowly make her way behind the medic. The way she walked, it was like she was a different mare. His eyes went from her tail to the drips of ooze she had trailed behind her. His hand clenched in anger.
Alora placed a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we discuss our next course of action over dinner?” She almost whispered, “It’ll be nice for you to get some home cooked meals into you.”
He turned his head and nodded, “I’ll meet you in the dining hall for dinner” he replied.
xxx
As the day progressed, Edmund had become increasingly worried. The conversation over dinner felt rushed with an overall dreary tone. They needed to get this as fast as possible in Edmund’s mind, however Bjarki had warned them that there were large, unknown enemy creatures that they needed to be wary of.
The best course of action was to take their time and plan their moves, plot out where and how they would get the things they needed to get. Bjarki had given them a general location of where Kothrandyl was located, she headed a warning though. They were not to go directly into his light. The magic shooting out was too strong for anything living and would disintegrate anything that went into it. The lake of arcane was located much further east.
They had decided that they would set sail in two days time, enough time to gather supplies and the amount of people they would need.
“I guess I’m going back to speak to the pirates” Edmund said as he left the dining hall.
xxx
The boat shook violently. It was the middle of the night, everyone had been asleep except the crewman who were taking the night shift. The boat had hit a large rock which had been scraping the side of the large wooden structure. Edmund jumped from his sleep, jolting to the source of the noise. The closer he got, the wetter his feet had become.
“It’s alright. We’ve hit a rock. There’s damage, but nothin’ that we ain’t seen before. Looks like ya’ll are swimmin’ from here. Us three will stay back and fix’er up. If we have time, we’ll catch up with ye.” The captain had said, while motioning at the other two to grab tools.
Edmund had made his way back to his room to gather his belongings and throw his clothes on. As he passed each room he greeted the group who were woken up by the shaking, explaining they were setting out. He made his way up the stairs and opened the door to the deck. Before him shot a large beam of light into the sky. He raised his hands above his face, not used to the light quite yet. It was the dead of night, but the light illuminated the top of the trees like it was day. The beam, even though it was clearly incredibly far away, felt like he could reach out and touch it. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
His eyes danced from the light to the trees and plants. The entire forest glowed of blue and purple. His eyes couldn’t compute the images and shapes in front of them as a forest. They were unlike any colour or shape that he’d ever seen. The only green he could see was that of grass and some leaves, but the rest danced a beautiful shade of blue and purple, mixing in some white. The rest of the group had joined him on deck, staring out into the unknown seemingly thinking the same thing. The group stood in quiet awe, admiring the shores they’ve never touched before. Suddenly, Edmund realized just how little he knew about the world they lived in.
One of the pirate crew piped up interrupting the silence, “What, ya never seen Kory in all’er glory before?” He chuckled and moved through the group, making his way to a set of spare planks. With the silence broken, the group all moved separate ways to gather their things and collect their horses.
The crewman dropped the boarding ramp, it hit a rock just below the water, allowing the horses easy access into the ocean. Edmund looked back at his crew, leading Jemima into the water.
“Don’t delay, we don’t know what lurks in these waters” Edmund called back.
Scouting: Quendorin
Written by HoT-Stables – 28 Septeber 2019
The group started off strong.
Korandyire was beautiful and challenging in it’s own ways. The land became more beautiful and shaped by arcane the deeper the group went. It wasn’t hard to find landmarks, there were so many unique things all around them.
Edmund’s goal wasn’t the map at this point, the only thing he was in this unknown land was, was to save his horse’s life. It was in his mind that the foal was already gone; a festering parasite living in his mare’s body. He had to do what he could to save what he had left.
The weather in Korandyire was strange; the longer they were there, the more concerned they got. The further they ventured away from the sea, the more scarce water became. There had been no sign of true fresh water. Everything in this land had a glow, a hue. Edmund had been wary to try the water, who knew what it a power source like that could do to a human or a horse.
Days had gone by, their water had gone dry. The land, thus far had presented no other challenges. They had spotted creatures that didn’t seem hostile, or at least were fight or flight creatures; unless provoked, there was no problem.
After almost two days of surveying the land without water, the group came into an opening. Beautiful flowers filled the valley, as the breeze moved them their seeds filled with arcane fluttered away like ripples in the wind, it was a sight the group would only ever see here. In the middle of the opening sat a monsterous lake that shimmered white.
Edmund had lead his group single file across the valley, as the hooves of their mounts tread through the long grass and flowers, the smell and sight of the bellowing seeds drifting away caused the group to be at peace.
“I could live here,” said a member closer to the back of the pack. “Agreed,” another one replied. The group drifted into silence and beautiful atmosphere.
Jemima stopped inches from the water, Edmund shifted in his saddle looking down at the water. The white shimmer grew in intensity as they got closer; the arcane drifted and flowed, swirling about mimicking that of water however, water this was not. This was not water that anyone living in another land could drink or use.
Across the lake, a distorted figure appeared out of the long grass. The group couldn’t make out exactly what creature it was due to the distance and distortion of everything living here, but the closest thing it resembled was a deer. They all watched as it dipped its head into the lake and began to drink. As it’s head finished, ripples of light caught the droplets that fell from the creatures mouth. Just like that, the group had suddenly remembered their overwhelming thirst. They had been brought back into reality in a split second.
One of the group members dismounted and bolted past the herd with his horse to the water, closest to Edmund. He dropped to his knees inches from the water, his horse shortly behind him. Edmund took no time to dismount himself, reaching over and grabbing him by the collar, pulling him back before his hands touched the ripples. His horse did not share the same fate; the horse, a beautiful jet black gelding with bright blue eyes, dipped his muzzle into the lake. As his skin touched the waves, the group could hear the sizzling of it’s skin. The gelding spooked, throwing himself into a half hazzard rear. His feet had not been planted well, the pebbles gave way causing him to slide. His balance had been thrown off and the gelding fell onto his back, causing his back legs to dip into the water. The same sound of sizzling skin was heard. By this time, a few members had jumped off their mounts and were scrambling towards the action. It took four men to hoist the gelding back up and away from the lakeshore.
Edmund had released the member’s coat collar and ran to the gelding’s side. The group members stared in awe at the gelding. He was visibly in pain, but where the water had touched had turned to white; the white wasn’t stopping. It had started to spread in blotchy circles upwards from where the original point of touching was. As the white spread, his fur had come off leaving the skin underneath visibly white. This was not scarring, it was something different. The owner of the gelding sobbed against his horse’s neck, whispering inaudible apologies to the gelding.
“We cannot be so careless, men,” Edmund started, “this land is uncharted territory to us. We are its visitors.I know we are thirsty, we will find something soon. We cannot dive into things head first and make rash decisions---”
Edmund had been cut off by a voice behind him, “Sir, we have other things to worry about!!” Edmund turned to see the location of a voice coming from a member pointing at the sky. During all of the commotion, the group had failed to see strong storm clouds rolling in. The storm had seemingly come from nowhere. The dark, threatening clouds were rolling in fast, cracks of lightning and thunder were sharp in the sky. The thought of what happened to the gelding with just a touch of the water here ran through everyone’s minds. They didn’t want to be caught in the rain.
Each group member simultaneously mounted their steeds and headed towards the nearest tree line for cover. The group moved simultaneously as one, bolting towards the trees, all except the man and gelding; he couldn’t mount his horse due to the injuries the water had caused his rear legs. The group had unknowingly left him behind. The sound of rain biting at their heels, everyone had moved as fast as possible.
Edmund hand turned Jemima around as he had reached the treeline to make sure everyone had made it back with him. To Edmund’s horror, he had turned around to see the man and his gelding limping slowly towards the group. Before Edmund could send Jemima out, the rain engulfed the duo.
The group’s heart collectively stopped as they all watched. One second went by, two, three. The gelding had stopped, standing still in the field. His owner looked up to the sky and held out his arms. The group could hear his laughter as he started to dance. “It’s just rain!!” he screamed, cheering. He was like a child, sticking his tongue out like a kid would trying to catch a snowflake. “It’s just RAIN!!!” he continued.
Some members had dismounted and ran out into the rain to do the same. The smarter ones had opened stuff to collect water in.
Their celebration was cut short with large cracks of thunder; a few members had ran out to help move the horse and rider into the treeline before the storm could actually get the best of them.
xxx
The storm was long and harsh, going into the night and well into the next day. Not many had gotten sleep that night, they were not used to storms going this strong for as long as it was. A few of the members had sat down with Edmund to discuss their next plan of action. Bjarki had told Edmund the water they wanted was from a lake connected to Kothrandyl. This lake was still too far away from the beam of light for his comfort. The members debated back and forth with Edmund for some time about taking the water and heading back. In the end, Edmund had decided to travel closer to the beam to make sure he was gathering the right ingredients; if he had set sail for home without the right things, Azari would die. They would have to come back south in order to head back to Aleria regardless so if they didn’t find another lake, they could stop by on the way. He made the decision to head northwest once the rest of the group awoke.
xxx
They had travelled for what seemed like weeks, each day getting closer and closer to their destination, using the arcane beam as a guide. As they drew nearer, they noticed changes in the ground, plants and animals they had been seeing. Things were larger, more hostile and seemed more deadly.
The gelding was recovering, however the rider chose to walk alongside him in order to reduce the amount of discomfort he was in. This put the group at a slower pace, making sure to not leave him behind again.
The forest was thick and dark in a lot of parts, but light came from within. Many species of flora had bioluminescence, causing them to glow many different shades. The bugs also released some light, as did the animals.
The group had paused in an area like this for the night, setting up camp on a rock formation that had been slightly lifted off the ground. The gelding’s rider had taken a seat on a rock close by, placing his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He sat there for a few moments before he opened his eyes. Below him were mushrooms. They had not seen these anywhere else on this land, mushrooms!! He grabbed as many as he could, running to show Edmund.
“Look around, look around!! The mushrooms!! They’re here!!” He yelled towards all of the members who were sitting around. As he got to Edmund, he tripped and fell, sending the mushrooms flying. When each mushroom hit the ground, they dissipated into a fine dust. Their spores set sail in the wind, coating everything around it.
Edmund’s eyebrow raised, glancing down at the fallen man. “If you keep doing this, you’re gonna wind up dead,” he chuckled, offering his hand to help him up.
He grabbed Edmund’s hand and slowly got to his knees, ‘I--I know, I’m sorry. I thought finding the mushrooms would help regain some respect.”
“There was no respect lost. Good job on the mushrooms,” Edmund replied with a slight smile on his face, patting his back. “We obviously now know that the mushrooms need to be handled delicately in order for them to maintain their shape and usefulness. We couldn’t have done that without this incident.” Edmund’s smile turned into a chuckle.
“Ok men,” Edmund turned to the group requesting their attention, “before we set up for the night, I need everyone to have a look around. We haven’t seen these mushrooms on the land before, they seem to be isolated to this area. Pick as many as you can and bring them to me once you can no longer find some. Oh, and be careful with them. They explode on impact.” Edmund’s chuckle had turned into a laugh.
xxx
With one of the ingredients acquired and a few nights rest in a relatively safe area, the herd had set off. Refreshed and with new life and healed up, they were making reasonable time again. The beam becoming every so close, a constant whurr was always heard; the sound of the arcane breaking through the ground and traveling upwards at a very fast rate.
At one point, they had found a river that had been flowing the opposite way they were traveling. A collective decision was to follow the river, as it pointed north. The river must have been flowing from a larger water source. That’s what they were after.
As the group got closer to the beam, the trees had faded away. Less living things were seen, areas were more sparse, the river was starting to widen. It had been about midday when they could finally see a large body of water in the distance. The glow on this body of water had been different than any of the bodies of water they had seen, it was slightly purple. As the group exited the forest, Edmund’s eyes followed the lake’s edge to a river pointing directly west - the source of the water was coming from the beam. He glanced back at his group and nodded, slightly increasing their pace.
The group had trotted the rest of the way, stopping only where the river flowing south had met the lake’s mouth. Edmund examined the water, the shimmer of this water had a light purple hue where everything else was white. The soil under their feet was deep lavender, with each step the grains dissipated into the air like spores off of a fungus. His eyes shifted from the lilac soil down the river they had just followed. The river bed they had followed had turned to rock about half a mile down. When Edmund dismounted, puffs of purple surrounded his feet. He walked a few steps westbound, his eyes on the large white beam filling the sky. The beam went on for miles in each direction, never ending and too bright to see through. As his eyes drifted from the beam, they examined the river leading out of it. The deep lavender sand continued from the beam into the lake. Edmund turned to face Jemima, “This is it,” he said to himself, reaching for her saddle bag. He pulled out multiple empty potion vials. He knew these things could take a beating, his own have survived through hell and back.
Kneeling down to inspect the water, he took note of the same swirling pattern. This wasn’t water, it was arcane. Edmund could not see his reflection, but the body of water reflected the sun just like any lake in Aleria would. It looked visibly wet, but he knew it was not. He slipped his gloves on, carefully dunking the first vial into the ripples.
The vial held up perfectly, to his surprise. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t really expecting their craftsmanship to hold up well against ancient dragon magic, that’s for sure. Either way, he filled the second and a third no problem, only handing them off to a group member standing beside him to cap them and place them with the mushrooms in Jemima’s saddlebags.
When Edmund began to fill the fourth, he had noticed something bright coming from deeper within the lake. Twenty or thirty feet below the surface, he noticed what he thought was something glowing… black. The shimmer on the water was so bright, he couldn’t fully make anything out. As he handed the fourth vial off, he didn’t take his eyes off of the water. He dipped the fifth vial in, catching a glimpse of the black again. This time, the shape was very close. Only 5 or 6 feet away.
As Edmund handed off the fifth vial, a large dragon, larger than anything they’d seen, flew out of the water straight at Edmund. Edmund’s reactions where primal, he flailed backwards. Everyone did, they had been startled. The fifth vial had been sent flying backwards, shattering on a rock a few feet away.
The scaled beast’s body continued to come out of the water, its elongated body like that of a snake. Those that had fallen had scuttered backwards at the sight of something so large. The legless creature gave the group no time to think; the speed at which it slithered towards them was absurd. It’s black, glowing eyes locked on Edmund. One of the horses nearby had spooked, running behind Edmund. The speed at which the horse had been running seemed to distract the dragon, diverting it’s attention to the mare running away. The cobra like beast increased the speed at which it glided across the ground, leaving large divots in the lavender sand behind it.
The champagne mare with the dragon gaining behind her headed straight for the beam of light. The group took the opportunity to gather and settle the horses and mount up. The sound of sand being disturbed behind the group sent chills up Edmund’s spine. A glance behind him confirmed the worst; a second dragon of the same type had been slowly lurking behind them. Edmund’s eyes whipped forward, knowing they were trapped with a large river to their right, the lake to the front and the beam to the left. He locked onto a spot in the river westbound that boulders sticking out that would offer a risky crossing, but that was their only hope. The riverbed was shallow and thin, the horses might be able to make it across without slipping.
Edmund kicked into gear, screaming at the group to move out. As they bolted, so did the second legless creature behind them, quickly gaining ground.
The group was almost at their crossing point; behind them, the black eyed beast biting at their ankles, in front of them charged the champagne mare with another at her heels approaching the white beam. The group saw the snake slide to a stop as the mare approached the boundary. As her body entered the arcane, her body started to turn to stark white. Her eyes turned a shade of pink. As the last of her body went through and the whole of her body turned white, she collapsed. Her body started to deteriorate, arcane eating away at her skin. Bits that melted faster and beams shoot through it.
The group didn’t have time to watch, they had to cross and make their way the only way they could; north. The owner of the champagne mare who had been riding along atop of the injured gelding turned to look back at his steed. Only ribs and bits of skeleton had remained; he watched on as the ribcage cracked and fell to the ground. His gaze had been cut short by the sight of the original legless monster turning his attention to the fleeing herd, now it was both after them.
“Can we, can we...move a bit faster???” He asked, clinging to the gelding’s owner.
Edmund and Jemima had been leading the group, the horses couldn’t run forever. There was a treeline just north of them. It was a race, who would tire first. The dragons, hunting as a pack, or the horses. He knew that if the group could make it to the treeline, the horses would have the upperhand. The snakes were large and wouldn’t do well maneuvering around the dense forest.
A few of the older horses had started to fade, their owners desperately kicking in hopes to keep them going; the treeline was within arms reach. Jemima had made it through first, she wanted to slow down but Edmund wouldn’t let her. The risk of these dragons pulling another trick was too risky. They kept full speed ahead, or as fast as they could dipping around trees and over roots and rocks.
The trees seemed to stall the dragons, both crashing into one another as they tried to scale the same tree. Edmund glanced back, seeing both dragons snapping at each other. He breathed a sigh of relief, only to be brought to a screeching halt. Jemima had stopped within an inch of a cliff. Waves crashed underneath them. Others had similar fates, some screaming thinking they were about to fall to their deaths.
Edmund looked out over the ocean as Jemima’s feet stomped anxiously. In front of them was a large iceberg, slowly gliding through the ocean’s current. The crash of trees and hissing behind him made him turn his mount around. The two beasts had made their way through the forest and had been imminently behind them. One went to the left, the other went to the right. The group had been cornered by sea and dragon.
Edmund’s hand slipped into Jemima’s saddlebag and picked up some mushrooms, wrapping them in his gloves. He spun Jemima in her spot again facing the ocean, he kicked her once. She flinched. He kicked her again, sending her jumping into the waves below.
The group watched as Jemima and Edmund had went under water. One of the dragons sent out a scream and lunged towards the group. As Jemima’s head reemerged, the group sent their horses plunging into the ocean as well. The larger of the two dragons had barely missed the last horse that went overboard, sending both the dragon and horse spiraling into the sea water. As the creature’s scales hit the salt water, smoke filled the air around it. The dragon’s body wiggled as it sunk, sending bubbles to the surface as it disappeared into the depths.
Jemima and Edmund had already started towards the large ice formation, not wanting to figure out if the beast had survived. The water was cold, the group needed to get out as fast as possible.
The group made it onto the iceberg safely, though defeated. There was no plan, they had no way home. They drifted northeast with the ice, hoping to find a part of the coast on Korandyire that was not cliff, somewhere that would allow them to light a fire, dry their clothes. That time would not come.
xxx
Cold and sleepless, Korandyire drifted out of site. According to one of the scouts, the iceberg had stopped coasting northeast a few days ago, the current had changed and they were now circling around; his compass had said northwest.
As the sun began to rise, the ship made of ice brushed up against something. Vibrations had been sent through the entire ground. The group awoke, looking around curiously. Edmund climbed overtop one of the mounds, placing a hand on his browline, shielding his eyes from the new light. The iceberg had stopped on a new land formation. He waved his group up.
They overlooked a land made entirely of ice. They saw four legged creatures that stood mountains tall; they grazed on the ice. The group slowly made their way down onto the new formation. They passed one of these tall lizards, they could hear their breathing, they could hear their teeth crunching the ice. These monsters didn’t even notice them.
“Quendivores…” Edmund whispered, “she was right.”
The group started off strong.
Korandyire was beautiful and challenging in it’s own ways. The land became more beautiful and shaped by arcane the deeper the group went. It wasn’t hard to find landmarks, there were so many unique things all around them.
Edmund’s goal wasn’t the map at this point, the only thing he was in this unknown land was, was to save his horse’s life. It was in his mind that the foal was already gone; a festering parasite living in his mare’s body. He had to do what he could to save what he had left.
The weather in Korandyire was strange; the longer they were there, the more concerned they got. The further they ventured away from the sea, the more scarce water became. There had been no sign of true fresh water. Everything in this land had a glow, a hue. Edmund had been wary to try the water, who knew what it a power source like that could do to a human or a horse.
Days had gone by, their water had gone dry. The land, thus far had presented no other challenges. They had spotted creatures that didn’t seem hostile, or at least were fight or flight creatures; unless provoked, there was no problem.
After almost two days of surveying the land without water, the group came into an opening. Beautiful flowers filled the valley, as the breeze moved them their seeds filled with arcane fluttered away like ripples in the wind, it was a sight the group would only ever see here. In the middle of the opening sat a monsterous lake that shimmered white.
Edmund had lead his group single file across the valley, as the hooves of their mounts tread through the long grass and flowers, the smell and sight of the bellowing seeds drifting away caused the group to be at peace.
“I could live here,” said a member closer to the back of the pack. “Agreed,” another one replied. The group drifted into silence and beautiful atmosphere.
Jemima stopped inches from the water, Edmund shifted in his saddle looking down at the water. The white shimmer grew in intensity as they got closer; the arcane drifted and flowed, swirling about mimicking that of water however, water this was not. This was not water that anyone living in another land could drink or use.
Across the lake, a distorted figure appeared out of the long grass. The group couldn’t make out exactly what creature it was due to the distance and distortion of everything living here, but the closest thing it resembled was a deer. They all watched as it dipped its head into the lake and began to drink. As it’s head finished, ripples of light caught the droplets that fell from the creatures mouth. Just like that, the group had suddenly remembered their overwhelming thirst. They had been brought back into reality in a split second.
One of the group members dismounted and bolted past the herd with his horse to the water, closest to Edmund. He dropped to his knees inches from the water, his horse shortly behind him. Edmund took no time to dismount himself, reaching over and grabbing him by the collar, pulling him back before his hands touched the ripples. His horse did not share the same fate; the horse, a beautiful jet black gelding with bright blue eyes, dipped his muzzle into the lake. As his skin touched the waves, the group could hear the sizzling of it’s skin. The gelding spooked, throwing himself into a half hazzard rear. His feet had not been planted well, the pebbles gave way causing him to slide. His balance had been thrown off and the gelding fell onto his back, causing his back legs to dip into the water. The same sound of sizzling skin was heard. By this time, a few members had jumped off their mounts and were scrambling towards the action. It took four men to hoist the gelding back up and away from the lakeshore.
Edmund had released the member’s coat collar and ran to the gelding’s side. The group members stared in awe at the gelding. He was visibly in pain, but where the water had touched had turned to white; the white wasn’t stopping. It had started to spread in blotchy circles upwards from where the original point of touching was. As the white spread, his fur had come off leaving the skin underneath visibly white. This was not scarring, it was something different. The owner of the gelding sobbed against his horse’s neck, whispering inaudible apologies to the gelding.
“We cannot be so careless, men,” Edmund started, “this land is uncharted territory to us. We are its visitors.I know we are thirsty, we will find something soon. We cannot dive into things head first and make rash decisions---”
Edmund had been cut off by a voice behind him, “Sir, we have other things to worry about!!” Edmund turned to see the location of a voice coming from a member pointing at the sky. During all of the commotion, the group had failed to see strong storm clouds rolling in. The storm had seemingly come from nowhere. The dark, threatening clouds were rolling in fast, cracks of lightning and thunder were sharp in the sky. The thought of what happened to the gelding with just a touch of the water here ran through everyone’s minds. They didn’t want to be caught in the rain.
Each group member simultaneously mounted their steeds and headed towards the nearest tree line for cover. The group moved simultaneously as one, bolting towards the trees, all except the man and gelding; he couldn’t mount his horse due to the injuries the water had caused his rear legs. The group had unknowingly left him behind. The sound of rain biting at their heels, everyone had moved as fast as possible.
Edmund hand turned Jemima around as he had reached the treeline to make sure everyone had made it back with him. To Edmund’s horror, he had turned around to see the man and his gelding limping slowly towards the group. Before Edmund could send Jemima out, the rain engulfed the duo.
The group’s heart collectively stopped as they all watched. One second went by, two, three. The gelding had stopped, standing still in the field. His owner looked up to the sky and held out his arms. The group could hear his laughter as he started to dance. “It’s just rain!!” he screamed, cheering. He was like a child, sticking his tongue out like a kid would trying to catch a snowflake. “It’s just RAIN!!!” he continued.
Some members had dismounted and ran out into the rain to do the same. The smarter ones had opened stuff to collect water in.
Their celebration was cut short with large cracks of thunder; a few members had ran out to help move the horse and rider into the treeline before the storm could actually get the best of them.
xxx
The storm was long and harsh, going into the night and well into the next day. Not many had gotten sleep that night, they were not used to storms going this strong for as long as it was. A few of the members had sat down with Edmund to discuss their next plan of action. Bjarki had told Edmund the water they wanted was from a lake connected to Kothrandyl. This lake was still too far away from the beam of light for his comfort. The members debated back and forth with Edmund for some time about taking the water and heading back. In the end, Edmund had decided to travel closer to the beam to make sure he was gathering the right ingredients; if he had set sail for home without the right things, Azari would die. They would have to come back south in order to head back to Aleria regardless so if they didn’t find another lake, they could stop by on the way. He made the decision to head northwest once the rest of the group awoke.
xxx
They had travelled for what seemed like weeks, each day getting closer and closer to their destination, using the arcane beam as a guide. As they drew nearer, they noticed changes in the ground, plants and animals they had been seeing. Things were larger, more hostile and seemed more deadly.
The gelding was recovering, however the rider chose to walk alongside him in order to reduce the amount of discomfort he was in. This put the group at a slower pace, making sure to not leave him behind again.
The forest was thick and dark in a lot of parts, but light came from within. Many species of flora had bioluminescence, causing them to glow many different shades. The bugs also released some light, as did the animals.
The group had paused in an area like this for the night, setting up camp on a rock formation that had been slightly lifted off the ground. The gelding’s rider had taken a seat on a rock close by, placing his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He sat there for a few moments before he opened his eyes. Below him were mushrooms. They had not seen these anywhere else on this land, mushrooms!! He grabbed as many as he could, running to show Edmund.
“Look around, look around!! The mushrooms!! They’re here!!” He yelled towards all of the members who were sitting around. As he got to Edmund, he tripped and fell, sending the mushrooms flying. When each mushroom hit the ground, they dissipated into a fine dust. Their spores set sail in the wind, coating everything around it.
Edmund’s eyebrow raised, glancing down at the fallen man. “If you keep doing this, you’re gonna wind up dead,” he chuckled, offering his hand to help him up.
He grabbed Edmund’s hand and slowly got to his knees, ‘I--I know, I’m sorry. I thought finding the mushrooms would help regain some respect.”
“There was no respect lost. Good job on the mushrooms,” Edmund replied with a slight smile on his face, patting his back. “We obviously now know that the mushrooms need to be handled delicately in order for them to maintain their shape and usefulness. We couldn’t have done that without this incident.” Edmund’s smile turned into a chuckle.
“Ok men,” Edmund turned to the group requesting their attention, “before we set up for the night, I need everyone to have a look around. We haven’t seen these mushrooms on the land before, they seem to be isolated to this area. Pick as many as you can and bring them to me once you can no longer find some. Oh, and be careful with them. They explode on impact.” Edmund’s chuckle had turned into a laugh.
xxx
With one of the ingredients acquired and a few nights rest in a relatively safe area, the herd had set off. Refreshed and with new life and healed up, they were making reasonable time again. The beam becoming every so close, a constant whurr was always heard; the sound of the arcane breaking through the ground and traveling upwards at a very fast rate.
At one point, they had found a river that had been flowing the opposite way they were traveling. A collective decision was to follow the river, as it pointed north. The river must have been flowing from a larger water source. That’s what they were after.
As the group got closer to the beam, the trees had faded away. Less living things were seen, areas were more sparse, the river was starting to widen. It had been about midday when they could finally see a large body of water in the distance. The glow on this body of water had been different than any of the bodies of water they had seen, it was slightly purple. As the group exited the forest, Edmund’s eyes followed the lake’s edge to a river pointing directly west - the source of the water was coming from the beam. He glanced back at his group and nodded, slightly increasing their pace.
The group had trotted the rest of the way, stopping only where the river flowing south had met the lake’s mouth. Edmund examined the water, the shimmer of this water had a light purple hue where everything else was white. The soil under their feet was deep lavender, with each step the grains dissipated into the air like spores off of a fungus. His eyes shifted from the lilac soil down the river they had just followed. The river bed they had followed had turned to rock about half a mile down. When Edmund dismounted, puffs of purple surrounded his feet. He walked a few steps westbound, his eyes on the large white beam filling the sky. The beam went on for miles in each direction, never ending and too bright to see through. As his eyes drifted from the beam, they examined the river leading out of it. The deep lavender sand continued from the beam into the lake. Edmund turned to face Jemima, “This is it,” he said to himself, reaching for her saddle bag. He pulled out multiple empty potion vials. He knew these things could take a beating, his own have survived through hell and back.
Kneeling down to inspect the water, he took note of the same swirling pattern. This wasn’t water, it was arcane. Edmund could not see his reflection, but the body of water reflected the sun just like any lake in Aleria would. It looked visibly wet, but he knew it was not. He slipped his gloves on, carefully dunking the first vial into the ripples.
The vial held up perfectly, to his surprise. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t really expecting their craftsmanship to hold up well against ancient dragon magic, that’s for sure. Either way, he filled the second and a third no problem, only handing them off to a group member standing beside him to cap them and place them with the mushrooms in Jemima’s saddlebags.
When Edmund began to fill the fourth, he had noticed something bright coming from deeper within the lake. Twenty or thirty feet below the surface, he noticed what he thought was something glowing… black. The shimmer on the water was so bright, he couldn’t fully make anything out. As he handed the fourth vial off, he didn’t take his eyes off of the water. He dipped the fifth vial in, catching a glimpse of the black again. This time, the shape was very close. Only 5 or 6 feet away.
As Edmund handed off the fifth vial, a large dragon, larger than anything they’d seen, flew out of the water straight at Edmund. Edmund’s reactions where primal, he flailed backwards. Everyone did, they had been startled. The fifth vial had been sent flying backwards, shattering on a rock a few feet away.
The scaled beast’s body continued to come out of the water, its elongated body like that of a snake. Those that had fallen had scuttered backwards at the sight of something so large. The legless creature gave the group no time to think; the speed at which it slithered towards them was absurd. It’s black, glowing eyes locked on Edmund. One of the horses nearby had spooked, running behind Edmund. The speed at which the horse had been running seemed to distract the dragon, diverting it’s attention to the mare running away. The cobra like beast increased the speed at which it glided across the ground, leaving large divots in the lavender sand behind it.
The champagne mare with the dragon gaining behind her headed straight for the beam of light. The group took the opportunity to gather and settle the horses and mount up. The sound of sand being disturbed behind the group sent chills up Edmund’s spine. A glance behind him confirmed the worst; a second dragon of the same type had been slowly lurking behind them. Edmund’s eyes whipped forward, knowing they were trapped with a large river to their right, the lake to the front and the beam to the left. He locked onto a spot in the river westbound that boulders sticking out that would offer a risky crossing, but that was their only hope. The riverbed was shallow and thin, the horses might be able to make it across without slipping.
Edmund kicked into gear, screaming at the group to move out. As they bolted, so did the second legless creature behind them, quickly gaining ground.
The group was almost at their crossing point; behind them, the black eyed beast biting at their ankles, in front of them charged the champagne mare with another at her heels approaching the white beam. The group saw the snake slide to a stop as the mare approached the boundary. As her body entered the arcane, her body started to turn to stark white. Her eyes turned a shade of pink. As the last of her body went through and the whole of her body turned white, she collapsed. Her body started to deteriorate, arcane eating away at her skin. Bits that melted faster and beams shoot through it.
The group didn’t have time to watch, they had to cross and make their way the only way they could; north. The owner of the champagne mare who had been riding along atop of the injured gelding turned to look back at his steed. Only ribs and bits of skeleton had remained; he watched on as the ribcage cracked and fell to the ground. His gaze had been cut short by the sight of the original legless monster turning his attention to the fleeing herd, now it was both after them.
“Can we, can we...move a bit faster???” He asked, clinging to the gelding’s owner.
Edmund and Jemima had been leading the group, the horses couldn’t run forever. There was a treeline just north of them. It was a race, who would tire first. The dragons, hunting as a pack, or the horses. He knew that if the group could make it to the treeline, the horses would have the upperhand. The snakes were large and wouldn’t do well maneuvering around the dense forest.
A few of the older horses had started to fade, their owners desperately kicking in hopes to keep them going; the treeline was within arms reach. Jemima had made it through first, she wanted to slow down but Edmund wouldn’t let her. The risk of these dragons pulling another trick was too risky. They kept full speed ahead, or as fast as they could dipping around trees and over roots and rocks.
The trees seemed to stall the dragons, both crashing into one another as they tried to scale the same tree. Edmund glanced back, seeing both dragons snapping at each other. He breathed a sigh of relief, only to be brought to a screeching halt. Jemima had stopped within an inch of a cliff. Waves crashed underneath them. Others had similar fates, some screaming thinking they were about to fall to their deaths.
Edmund looked out over the ocean as Jemima’s feet stomped anxiously. In front of them was a large iceberg, slowly gliding through the ocean’s current. The crash of trees and hissing behind him made him turn his mount around. The two beasts had made their way through the forest and had been imminently behind them. One went to the left, the other went to the right. The group had been cornered by sea and dragon.
Edmund’s hand slipped into Jemima’s saddlebag and picked up some mushrooms, wrapping them in his gloves. He spun Jemima in her spot again facing the ocean, he kicked her once. She flinched. He kicked her again, sending her jumping into the waves below.
The group watched as Jemima and Edmund had went under water. One of the dragons sent out a scream and lunged towards the group. As Jemima’s head reemerged, the group sent their horses plunging into the ocean as well. The larger of the two dragons had barely missed the last horse that went overboard, sending both the dragon and horse spiraling into the sea water. As the creature’s scales hit the salt water, smoke filled the air around it. The dragon’s body wiggled as it sunk, sending bubbles to the surface as it disappeared into the depths.
Jemima and Edmund had already started towards the large ice formation, not wanting to figure out if the beast had survived. The water was cold, the group needed to get out as fast as possible.
The group made it onto the iceberg safely, though defeated. There was no plan, they had no way home. They drifted northeast with the ice, hoping to find a part of the coast on Korandyire that was not cliff, somewhere that would allow them to light a fire, dry their clothes. That time would not come.
xxx
Cold and sleepless, Korandyire drifted out of site. According to one of the scouts, the iceberg had stopped coasting northeast a few days ago, the current had changed and they were now circling around; his compass had said northwest.
As the sun began to rise, the ship made of ice brushed up against something. Vibrations had been sent through the entire ground. The group awoke, looking around curiously. Edmund climbed overtop one of the mounds, placing a hand on his browline, shielding his eyes from the new light. The iceberg had stopped on a new land formation. He waved his group up.
They overlooked a land made entirely of ice. They saw four legged creatures that stood mountains tall; they grazed on the ice. The group slowly made their way down onto the new formation. They passed one of these tall lizards, they could hear their breathing, they could hear their teeth crunching the ice. These monsters didn’t even notice them.
“Quendivores…” Edmund whispered, “she was right.”
The Festival of Lights
Written by HoT-Stables – 30 November 2019
The war against the anti-god was over - for now - but the most eventful year for Aleria and its people was coming to an end.
Alora stood at Azari’s side, running her hand across the mare's cheek in an attempt to soothe her. Edmund was still gone, yet to return with the medicine for his beloved Nordanner. The Queen didn't know what to do; does she send a fleet of ships to Korandyire? Is that too risky, sending more of her people to an unknown land? The queen had been deep in thought and hadn’t noticed the smaller woman making her way across the courtyard.
“No use in worryin’ Queenie, they not been gone a month yet” Bjarki broke the silence, now standing in the doorway. The crazy, older woman had been spending a lot of time with Alora since Edmund's departure, if only for her comfort and nothing else.
“Ya need ta take yer mind off it. How ‘bout one o' them parade things the townfolk-like” The older woman continued. Alora sighed, exiting Azari’s stall. “I don't know if I can, Bjarki. Not when our mare is so sick, or our people gone” Alora spoke softly, closing the stall door behind her.
“People be worried, jus’ like you, they need something ta raise their spirits” Bjarki spoke as they made their way across to the castle. The pair sat down for some tea, discussing the idea for a while. Eventually they came to the conclusion that a moral boost was just what they needed. While they could do nothing to help Edmund, they could keep spirits high for those still at home.
The Queen spoke to her events coordinators, discussing decorations and festivities for a parade; it truly would be a sight to behold. The castle would be covered in light, wreaths, good cheer and plenty of Christmas themed decorations. There would be stalls holding games, selling seasonal treats, anything to bring joy to her people. People would come from all over to take part in the event, this Christmas Light Nordanners donning elegant tack, their coats groomed to perfection. This is a mutation close to the Queen's heart, and she couldn’t wait to see them gather at her home.
As Alora sent Bjarki off for the night, she stood alone at the grand door of the castle watching the dwarf's silhouette fade into the distance. Standing there in silence, the first snowflakes fell from the sky. Alora's vision fixated on the slight twinkling glow of each white crystal when something off past the castle gates caught her eye. Familiar blinking white and red lights on the horizon drawing closer...
The war against the anti-god was over - for now - but the most eventful year for Aleria and its people was coming to an end.
Alora stood at Azari’s side, running her hand across the mare's cheek in an attempt to soothe her. Edmund was still gone, yet to return with the medicine for his beloved Nordanner. The Queen didn't know what to do; does she send a fleet of ships to Korandyire? Is that too risky, sending more of her people to an unknown land? The queen had been deep in thought and hadn’t noticed the smaller woman making her way across the courtyard.
“No use in worryin’ Queenie, they not been gone a month yet” Bjarki broke the silence, now standing in the doorway. The crazy, older woman had been spending a lot of time with Alora since Edmund's departure, if only for her comfort and nothing else.
“Ya need ta take yer mind off it. How ‘bout one o' them parade things the townfolk-like” The older woman continued. Alora sighed, exiting Azari’s stall. “I don't know if I can, Bjarki. Not when our mare is so sick, or our people gone” Alora spoke softly, closing the stall door behind her.
“People be worried, jus’ like you, they need something ta raise their spirits” Bjarki spoke as they made their way across to the castle. The pair sat down for some tea, discussing the idea for a while. Eventually they came to the conclusion that a moral boost was just what they needed. While they could do nothing to help Edmund, they could keep spirits high for those still at home.
The Queen spoke to her events coordinators, discussing decorations and festivities for a parade; it truly would be a sight to behold. The castle would be covered in light, wreaths, good cheer and plenty of Christmas themed decorations. There would be stalls holding games, selling seasonal treats, anything to bring joy to her people. People would come from all over to take part in the event, this Christmas Light Nordanners donning elegant tack, their coats groomed to perfection. This is a mutation close to the Queen's heart, and she couldn’t wait to see them gather at her home.
As Alora sent Bjarki off for the night, she stood alone at the grand door of the castle watching the dwarf's silhouette fade into the distance. Standing there in silence, the first snowflakes fell from the sky. Alora's vision fixated on the slight twinkling glow of each white crystal when something off past the castle gates caught her eye. Familiar blinking white and red lights on the horizon drawing closer...
Scouting: Amadora
Written by NordannerEvents (unknown admin) – 03 January 2021
“M’lady. M’lady!”
Queen Alora had been sleeping restlessly in the cot outside of Azari’s stable door. She awoke at once and rolled to her feet, dread rising in her throat. She was prepared to find that the pregnant chesnut peafowl mare had passed -- Azari had been fighting the arcane poison that had inflicted her, but her courage had proven stronger than her body, and every morning, the mare grew weaker and her suffering drew worse. But the anxious words were being spoken behind her, from the ornately-wrought stable doors. Alora looked in on Azari and found the mare drowsing on her feet, her foal-heavy belly slick with fever-sweat.
“M’lady,” said the voice again -- it was Evanda, one of the stablemaster’s assistants. The young woman’s pretty, freckled face was strained. “It’s Edmund. He’s come home. You must hurry.”
“Edmund!” The earlier dread evaporated, replaced by a surge of hope so profound it left the queen giddy. But that joy was dashed by the realization that the expression on the stablemaster’s assistant’s face remained grim, not celebratory. “Lead the way,” Alora said, hurrying to follow after the younger woman. When Evanda’s long stride turned into a lope, the queen threw aside any concern for regal dignity and ran as well.
The castle was coming away around them as Evanda led her sovereign across the immaculate parade square, and on toward the front gates. There was a knot of guardsmen there, trying to restrain a black, saddled horse. A rider had fallen from that horse’s saddle and lay unconscious on the ground, a booted foot tangled in the stirrup. The stallion’s ears were pinned and it was lashing out at any of the guardsmen it could reach, trying to keep them from touching his fallen rider. He was succeeding in doing that -- but at the same time, the fallen rider was getting yanked around like a rag doll. Bloodmarks showed in the sand where Edmund’s body had been dragged, and blood spattered like angry raindrops from the stallion’s mouth and bared teeth.
Alora recognized the luminescent green markings that slashed across the black stallion’s ribs and swept up the sides of his head like an insane grin; his blaze and all four hooves glowed the same venomous shade of green. “Toxic!” she commanded the angry stallion, calling him to heel. “Stand and behave!“
The Carved stallion’s head snapped around the sound of the queen’s crisp, sharp order. Toxic stood square, and his head dropped -- at first Alora thought it was a meek pose, but as she and Evanda hurried up to the gathering, she saw how Toxic’s neck and flanks were smeared with blood-flecked foam -- and at how more bloody foam was coming from the stallion’s nose and mouth with each exhalation. Toxic snapped at Evanda when the stablemaster’s assistant reached after him. Alora pushed past the other woman and reached for the stallion’s reins, holding the Carved Nordanner steady.
“Help Edmund!” she called to the guards, who moved at once to do so. Evanda freed the man’s boot from the stirrup and the guardsman dragged him aside. The realm’s Arena Master stirred somewhat after one of the guardsmen lifted a silver flask to his lips and splashed some of the potent local firewater onto his lips.
“Azari?” the man asked, his voice a rasping whisper. The man was filthy and nearly unrecognizable in his travel-ragged clothing and a beard.
“Get a healer,” one of the senior guardsman said, shoving the youngest and swiftest of their number away on that task. “The Arena Master’s got a bad wound, you can smell it festerin’.”
“Azari is still with us,” Alora said to Edmund, trying to keep her voice level and serene against the emotional that was choking her. “She has been waiting for you, as have we all. Edmund, you and the rest of your explorers are weeks overdue! We feared we had lost you all. Where are the others? Where is Jemmina?”
“We crossed the land of ice to Amadora,” Edmund rasped, hardly able to keep his bloodshot eyes open. “We found a ship there to carry us home, but Aurelia… she was swept overboard, we saw her swim back to shore…” He coughed painfully, then struggled to lift an arm to gesture toward the Carved stallion. “Jemmina’s saddlebags... She’s abscessed a hoof… As soon as our ship reached dock, Byron gave me Toxic and I rode for the castle, to get you the ingredients for the potion as soon as I could…” Edmund’s body went limp and his eyes rolled back. Clearly the man had spendt the last of whatever energy had sustained him to deliver that message.
Evanda was already in motion -- she wasn’t bothering to struggle to untie the knots that kept the saddlebags secure to the high cantle of Toxic’s saddle, but instead used her belt knife to slice it free. “Back to the stables! At once!” Alora cried. Evanda cradled the previous saddlebags to her chest and ran back the way they had come, as fleet as a doe. “Get word to the Royal Mages,” Alora ordered the senior guard. “Rouse them from their books and beds and get them to the stables to attend the potion, at once!”
Another man raced away on that mission, leaving Alora along with the last two of the guards. “Get the stablemaster,” Alora was saying to them, intent on seeing Toxic properly cared for after his desperate race. But at that moment, the great black Carved stallion gave out a deep grunt and sagged to his knees, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Alora cried out and went to her knees beside him, cradling the stallion’s head in her lap as he collapsed completely to the ground.
“Hang on, boy, hang on,” Alora begged the courageous stallion. But instead, the great horse gave a last, shuddering breath, and then went entirely still.
The queen pressed her forehead against the dead stallion’s blood-smeared cheek, and closed her eyes in mourning. Please, she prayed, to the gods old and new alike, please! Toxic had burst his brave heart in order to get the badly-needed potion ingredients back home. Please, let his sacrifice prove worthy! If you must take his life, spare us Azari and her unborn foal! And allow us to safely recover our lost Aurelia as well…
“M’lady. M’lady!”
Queen Alora had been sleeping restlessly in the cot outside of Azari’s stable door. She awoke at once and rolled to her feet, dread rising in her throat. She was prepared to find that the pregnant chesnut peafowl mare had passed -- Azari had been fighting the arcane poison that had inflicted her, but her courage had proven stronger than her body, and every morning, the mare grew weaker and her suffering drew worse. But the anxious words were being spoken behind her, from the ornately-wrought stable doors. Alora looked in on Azari and found the mare drowsing on her feet, her foal-heavy belly slick with fever-sweat.
“M’lady,” said the voice again -- it was Evanda, one of the stablemaster’s assistants. The young woman’s pretty, freckled face was strained. “It’s Edmund. He’s come home. You must hurry.”
“Edmund!” The earlier dread evaporated, replaced by a surge of hope so profound it left the queen giddy. But that joy was dashed by the realization that the expression on the stablemaster’s assistant’s face remained grim, not celebratory. “Lead the way,” Alora said, hurrying to follow after the younger woman. When Evanda’s long stride turned into a lope, the queen threw aside any concern for regal dignity and ran as well.
The castle was coming away around them as Evanda led her sovereign across the immaculate parade square, and on toward the front gates. There was a knot of guardsmen there, trying to restrain a black, saddled horse. A rider had fallen from that horse’s saddle and lay unconscious on the ground, a booted foot tangled in the stirrup. The stallion’s ears were pinned and it was lashing out at any of the guardsmen it could reach, trying to keep them from touching his fallen rider. He was succeeding in doing that -- but at the same time, the fallen rider was getting yanked around like a rag doll. Bloodmarks showed in the sand where Edmund’s body had been dragged, and blood spattered like angry raindrops from the stallion’s mouth and bared teeth.
Alora recognized the luminescent green markings that slashed across the black stallion’s ribs and swept up the sides of his head like an insane grin; his blaze and all four hooves glowed the same venomous shade of green. “Toxic!” she commanded the angry stallion, calling him to heel. “Stand and behave!“
The Carved stallion’s head snapped around the sound of the queen’s crisp, sharp order. Toxic stood square, and his head dropped -- at first Alora thought it was a meek pose, but as she and Evanda hurried up to the gathering, she saw how Toxic’s neck and flanks were smeared with blood-flecked foam -- and at how more bloody foam was coming from the stallion’s nose and mouth with each exhalation. Toxic snapped at Evanda when the stablemaster’s assistant reached after him. Alora pushed past the other woman and reached for the stallion’s reins, holding the Carved Nordanner steady.
“Help Edmund!” she called to the guards, who moved at once to do so. Evanda freed the man’s boot from the stirrup and the guardsman dragged him aside. The realm’s Arena Master stirred somewhat after one of the guardsmen lifted a silver flask to his lips and splashed some of the potent local firewater onto his lips.
“Azari?” the man asked, his voice a rasping whisper. The man was filthy and nearly unrecognizable in his travel-ragged clothing and a beard.
“Get a healer,” one of the senior guardsman said, shoving the youngest and swiftest of their number away on that task. “The Arena Master’s got a bad wound, you can smell it festerin’.”
“Azari is still with us,” Alora said to Edmund, trying to keep her voice level and serene against the emotional that was choking her. “She has been waiting for you, as have we all. Edmund, you and the rest of your explorers are weeks overdue! We feared we had lost you all. Where are the others? Where is Jemmina?”
“We crossed the land of ice to Amadora,” Edmund rasped, hardly able to keep his bloodshot eyes open. “We found a ship there to carry us home, but Aurelia… she was swept overboard, we saw her swim back to shore…” He coughed painfully, then struggled to lift an arm to gesture toward the Carved stallion. “Jemmina’s saddlebags... She’s abscessed a hoof… As soon as our ship reached dock, Byron gave me Toxic and I rode for the castle, to get you the ingredients for the potion as soon as I could…” Edmund’s body went limp and his eyes rolled back. Clearly the man had spendt the last of whatever energy had sustained him to deliver that message.
Evanda was already in motion -- she wasn’t bothering to struggle to untie the knots that kept the saddlebags secure to the high cantle of Toxic’s saddle, but instead used her belt knife to slice it free. “Back to the stables! At once!” Alora cried. Evanda cradled the previous saddlebags to her chest and ran back the way they had come, as fleet as a doe. “Get word to the Royal Mages,” Alora ordered the senior guard. “Rouse them from their books and beds and get them to the stables to attend the potion, at once!”
Another man raced away on that mission, leaving Alora along with the last two of the guards. “Get the stablemaster,” Alora was saying to them, intent on seeing Toxic properly cared for after his desperate race. But at that moment, the great black Carved stallion gave out a deep grunt and sagged to his knees, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Alora cried out and went to her knees beside him, cradling the stallion’s head in her lap as he collapsed completely to the ground.
“Hang on, boy, hang on,” Alora begged the courageous stallion. But instead, the great horse gave a last, shuddering breath, and then went entirely still.
The queen pressed her forehead against the dead stallion’s blood-smeared cheek, and closed her eyes in mourning. Please, she prayed, to the gods old and new alike, please! Toxic had burst his brave heart in order to get the badly-needed potion ingredients back home. Please, let his sacrifice prove worthy! If you must take his life, spare us Azari and her unborn foal! And allow us to safely recover our lost Aurelia as well…
Scouting: Malogsfrom
Written by NordannerEvents (unknown admin) – 24 January 2021
The summons came as she was sitting in her private council room, hosting a meeting between the matriarchs of two of Aleria’s most powerful noble families, seeking to negotiate a truce between them after the second sons of both houses had been caught on the illicit dueling fields. The Kingdom could not afford partisan warfare to break out among the wealthy families, which it was on a fast slide toward. Alora was determined to offer a velvet glove first, and counted on the wisdom of the noble grandmothers to rein in their own families. If they could not do so, the queen would have to step in with more public -- and more dramatic -- measures, an uncomfortable reality that none of the women present wished to see.
Alora took the scrap of parchment that the servant handed her and unfolded it, scanning it quickly. ‘Azari’s time is here,’ it said, in the rough, inelegant penmanship that she recognized at once as belonging to her Stablemaster. She smoothed the message out, then turned it face-down in front of her and returned her serene attention to the diplomacy at hand. “I believe we are all in agreement that by Lady Wylla’s word here, that the Talbot family is making a significant concession. Lady Bora, what measures will you and your household pledge to in return?”
The negotiations lasted through another serving of tea and some of Master Parajse’s delicate almond cakes. Alora kept her practiced smile unwavering until her steward had escorted both of the elderly matriarchs from the room. Only then did her serene expression break. She shoved herself to her feet and grabbed after her fur-lined velvet cape, and swept it around her shoulders as she rushed for the side door, which led to her private suite. From there, she strode through the sitting room and for the door which led to the servant’s hall, which was her quickest and most private route downstairs, and on to the palace side door nearest the parade square -- and beyond that, the stables themselves.
A queen did not run across the parade square -- not in broad daylight, and certainly not in the pearl-studded silk shoes which a queen in her clearer-thinking moments would have remembered to replace with hardier footwear. Alora held her cape tight around her shoulders and strode with as much speed as her queenly dignity would allow, her heart in her throat as she was finally free to answer the stablemaster’s summons.
There were none of the usual bustle of grooms and trainers around the wide-open double doors into the stables. Alora passed inside unannounced, and saw an entire crowd gathered down at the far end of the long stable aisle, clustering anxiously outside one of the foaling boxes. No one looked away from whatever vantages they had into that stall; no one even appeared to hear the clip of her shoe heels, a much-too delicate-for-this-place sound that surely would have earned instant attention under other circumstances. Alora studied profiles of her staff as she approached, trying to get a read on the emotion of that crowd. At the moment, it was uniformly worry.
“How is Azari?” she asked quietly as she reached the edge of the crowd.
The groom turned, startled. “M’lady!” he said, touching his forehead in respect, and then shoving aside his fellows to make room. “The Queen has arrived!” he announced, clearing a path of her to reach the front of the crowd. The Stablemaster was standing at the door of the stall -- he looked back, then reach out an arm and drew her close alongside him, with a clear view into the foaling box.
“She’s a strong girl,” the Stablemaster said, too focused on the drama at hand to attempt more courtly manners. “She’s been down for a few minutes, but we’ve already got the birth-sack and feet.”
The queen looked into the foaling stall, her heart in her throat. Her beloved peafowl mare Azari was down in the thick layer of straw, straining with the effort of giving birth. The mare had been ill for so long Demon Prince Vramien’s arcane poison, the queen and most of her court had begun to lose hope that Azari would survive, much less carry her precious unborn foal to full term. But Arena Master Edmund and his brave explorers had ventured far and wide to collect the necessary ingredients which had chased the poison from Azari’s veins, and now it was a breathless wait to see if her foal would be healthy or stillborn.
Azari gave a wheezing grunt and expelled a gush of amniotic fluids, followed by the head and forelegs of a foal. The gathered stable staff gave a cheer of encouragement, while the mare gave another deep grunt of effort. She continued to strain, then inbetween two powerful contractions, she gathered herself to her feet. Her chestnut sides were dark with sweat and she stretched her neck out toward the Stablemaster and the queen as if seeking their assurance. Then then mare went down again into the thick straw.
“Stablemaster?” Alora asked, gripping the polished darkwood panel before her anxiously.
“Azari is doing well -- she does not need us underfoot,” the grizzled old man replied.
Alora nodded, taking her Stablemaster’s word for the gospel.
In the next moment, a powerful contraction pushed out the foal up to its shoulders. The Stablemaster did reach then for the stall door, but the foal had already moved its head and freed its nose of the membranes that were covering it. Another contraction, and the foal’s entire body slid out into the straw. Almost immediately, the newborn foal’s head came up, bobbing with the effort of drawing breath for the first time.
Alora found herself cheering along with the rest of the stable staff. The newborn foal turned its head toward the sound. Its head and upper neck were dark, and it had a white, shield-like marking on its face, from which peered out eyes which were almost impossibly blue. Most of its body appeared to be white, with a dark band of hide almost encircling it behind the girth. There were three blue slices in its bristling baby-mane, proving it to have minimal peafowl markings. And --
“Are those peafowl markings?” Alora asked, seeing the stream of blue that swirled through the dark patch of hide on the foal’s neck, only to reappear low on the hind flank.
“Epona!” the Stablemaster breathed in wonder. “M’lady, I think it is Ortho.”
Alora stared in wonder. “I think you are right,” she murmured. “Could it be residue from the Demon Prince’s poison?”
“Could be,” the weather old stablemaster said, studying both mare and foal closely. “But he’s a bonny little fellow, isn’t he? It doesn’t seem to have done him any other harm.”
The newborn’s base white coat hid most of its mutation coloration, but it did look as if the star-stream of blue along the foal’s neck and flank were a mix of peafowling and Ortho.
“Those markings!” Alora said, her voice suddenly thick with tears. “They look like Acacius’s!”
Azari gathered herself back up to her feet and turned to face her audience, looking pleased with her own accomplishment. She began to lick her newborn’s head and neck clean, while the foal gave a fierce squeal and tried, unsuccessfully, to surge up to its feet.
“He’s a little boy, m’lady,” her Stablemaster said, his voice thick with pride.
“He is glorious,” Alora said. “You have done so well, Azari!” she praised her favorite mare.
“You’ll need to name the lad,” her Stablemaster said. “A strapping fine fellow like him deserves a fine, strapping name.”
“Artemis,” the queen announced. “His name shall be Artemis.”
Azari gave a satisfied snort at that, while young Artemis squealed again and made a second attempt to gain his feet. It, too, proved too soon for the effort, but the new Nordanner’s courage and determination were clear to everyone watching.
“Welcome, young Artemis,” Alora said to the foal, seeing in him already so much of his lost, beloved sire. “I know you will do your father proud.”
The summons came as she was sitting in her private council room, hosting a meeting between the matriarchs of two of Aleria’s most powerful noble families, seeking to negotiate a truce between them after the second sons of both houses had been caught on the illicit dueling fields. The Kingdom could not afford partisan warfare to break out among the wealthy families, which it was on a fast slide toward. Alora was determined to offer a velvet glove first, and counted on the wisdom of the noble grandmothers to rein in their own families. If they could not do so, the queen would have to step in with more public -- and more dramatic -- measures, an uncomfortable reality that none of the women present wished to see.
Alora took the scrap of parchment that the servant handed her and unfolded it, scanning it quickly. ‘Azari’s time is here,’ it said, in the rough, inelegant penmanship that she recognized at once as belonging to her Stablemaster. She smoothed the message out, then turned it face-down in front of her and returned her serene attention to the diplomacy at hand. “I believe we are all in agreement that by Lady Wylla’s word here, that the Talbot family is making a significant concession. Lady Bora, what measures will you and your household pledge to in return?”
The negotiations lasted through another serving of tea and some of Master Parajse’s delicate almond cakes. Alora kept her practiced smile unwavering until her steward had escorted both of the elderly matriarchs from the room. Only then did her serene expression break. She shoved herself to her feet and grabbed after her fur-lined velvet cape, and swept it around her shoulders as she rushed for the side door, which led to her private suite. From there, she strode through the sitting room and for the door which led to the servant’s hall, which was her quickest and most private route downstairs, and on to the palace side door nearest the parade square -- and beyond that, the stables themselves.
A queen did not run across the parade square -- not in broad daylight, and certainly not in the pearl-studded silk shoes which a queen in her clearer-thinking moments would have remembered to replace with hardier footwear. Alora held her cape tight around her shoulders and strode with as much speed as her queenly dignity would allow, her heart in her throat as she was finally free to answer the stablemaster’s summons.
There were none of the usual bustle of grooms and trainers around the wide-open double doors into the stables. Alora passed inside unannounced, and saw an entire crowd gathered down at the far end of the long stable aisle, clustering anxiously outside one of the foaling boxes. No one looked away from whatever vantages they had into that stall; no one even appeared to hear the clip of her shoe heels, a much-too delicate-for-this-place sound that surely would have earned instant attention under other circumstances. Alora studied profiles of her staff as she approached, trying to get a read on the emotion of that crowd. At the moment, it was uniformly worry.
“How is Azari?” she asked quietly as she reached the edge of the crowd.
The groom turned, startled. “M’lady!” he said, touching his forehead in respect, and then shoving aside his fellows to make room. “The Queen has arrived!” he announced, clearing a path of her to reach the front of the crowd. The Stablemaster was standing at the door of the stall -- he looked back, then reach out an arm and drew her close alongside him, with a clear view into the foaling box.
“She’s a strong girl,” the Stablemaster said, too focused on the drama at hand to attempt more courtly manners. “She’s been down for a few minutes, but we’ve already got the birth-sack and feet.”
The queen looked into the foaling stall, her heart in her throat. Her beloved peafowl mare Azari was down in the thick layer of straw, straining with the effort of giving birth. The mare had been ill for so long Demon Prince Vramien’s arcane poison, the queen and most of her court had begun to lose hope that Azari would survive, much less carry her precious unborn foal to full term. But Arena Master Edmund and his brave explorers had ventured far and wide to collect the necessary ingredients which had chased the poison from Azari’s veins, and now it was a breathless wait to see if her foal would be healthy or stillborn.
Azari gave a wheezing grunt and expelled a gush of amniotic fluids, followed by the head and forelegs of a foal. The gathered stable staff gave a cheer of encouragement, while the mare gave another deep grunt of effort. She continued to strain, then inbetween two powerful contractions, she gathered herself to her feet. Her chestnut sides were dark with sweat and she stretched her neck out toward the Stablemaster and the queen as if seeking their assurance. Then then mare went down again into the thick straw.
“Stablemaster?” Alora asked, gripping the polished darkwood panel before her anxiously.
“Azari is doing well -- she does not need us underfoot,” the grizzled old man replied.
Alora nodded, taking her Stablemaster’s word for the gospel.
In the next moment, a powerful contraction pushed out the foal up to its shoulders. The Stablemaster did reach then for the stall door, but the foal had already moved its head and freed its nose of the membranes that were covering it. Another contraction, and the foal’s entire body slid out into the straw. Almost immediately, the newborn foal’s head came up, bobbing with the effort of drawing breath for the first time.
Alora found herself cheering along with the rest of the stable staff. The newborn foal turned its head toward the sound. Its head and upper neck were dark, and it had a white, shield-like marking on its face, from which peered out eyes which were almost impossibly blue. Most of its body appeared to be white, with a dark band of hide almost encircling it behind the girth. There were three blue slices in its bristling baby-mane, proving it to have minimal peafowl markings. And --
“Are those peafowl markings?” Alora asked, seeing the stream of blue that swirled through the dark patch of hide on the foal’s neck, only to reappear low on the hind flank.
“Epona!” the Stablemaster breathed in wonder. “M’lady, I think it is Ortho.”
Alora stared in wonder. “I think you are right,” she murmured. “Could it be residue from the Demon Prince’s poison?”
“Could be,” the weather old stablemaster said, studying both mare and foal closely. “But he’s a bonny little fellow, isn’t he? It doesn’t seem to have done him any other harm.”
The newborn’s base white coat hid most of its mutation coloration, but it did look as if the star-stream of blue along the foal’s neck and flank were a mix of peafowling and Ortho.
“Those markings!” Alora said, her voice suddenly thick with tears. “They look like Acacius’s!”
Azari gathered herself back up to her feet and turned to face her audience, looking pleased with her own accomplishment. She began to lick her newborn’s head and neck clean, while the foal gave a fierce squeal and tried, unsuccessfully, to surge up to its feet.
“He’s a little boy, m’lady,” her Stablemaster said, his voice thick with pride.
“He is glorious,” Alora said. “You have done so well, Azari!” she praised her favorite mare.
“You’ll need to name the lad,” her Stablemaster said. “A strapping fine fellow like him deserves a fine, strapping name.”
“Artemis,” the queen announced. “His name shall be Artemis.”
Azari gave a satisfied snort at that, while young Artemis squealed again and made a second attempt to gain his feet. It, too, proved too soon for the effort, but the new Nordanner’s courage and determination were clear to everyone watching.
“Welcome, young Artemis,” Alora said to the foal, seeing in him already so much of his lost, beloved sire. “I know you will do your father proud.”
Gods’ Touch – Part 1: Tulia the Windswept
Written by BrowncoatWhit – 06 December 2021
The two riders flew their mounts higher and higher, until the air grew thin and Queen Alora was shivering despite her embroidered sheepskin coat and gloves. The rolling farm fields and villages below gave way first to dark forests and then snowy slopes as the two winged horses carried their riders up toward the lonely mountain summit above.
Alora watched the approaching peak with an increasing sense of displacement, as though her spirit-self were shrinking away. She was no stranger to being Gods-touched; indeed, it was her birthright and the source of her arcane power. But that dissociative experience had never before lasted longer than a few heartbeats; before the brush of the divine had passed through her and provided the knowledge the Triptych had desired delivered. Alora clung now to her mare’s riding straps, her senses shadowed by vertigo. Alora was grateful for the body heat the dark Ortho Catacomb shared with her. The closer the two winged Nordanners drew to the mountain peak, the more Alora’s skin crawled with a sense of preternatural dread--goosebumps prickling along her arms despite the well-insulated clothing--and she was equally grateful for the lionhearted courage of the lovely mare she rode.
‘Tulia,’ Alora prayed now, increasingly certain that the Windswept One was the one who was calling her here, higher and higher toward the bleak granite summit. Dragon’s Crest was the highest peak in all of Aleria. It was a mountaintop the young queen was familiar with as a distant sight to be admired from a tower window. This was her first time making the long, cold flight to the summit. ‘Tulia, what are you calling for me to see?’ she asked in supplication. But there was no answer, only the continued, shimmering sense of dislocation that meant the deity was with her -- listening, or guiding, or perhaps just toying with her, for fickle Tulia did things for reasons of her own that rarely made sense to mortal kind.
Pale wings spread wide before her momentarily before the amber cream Ortho stallion Tomb banked and circled, swinging around Catacomb before sweeping up close beside. The young queen steeled her expression, doing her best to show no weakness to the ranger who now rode beside her. Sayid was the man’s name. He was one of Edmund’s most trusted rangers -- indeed, the man was so often out in the field on missions for the Arena Master that Alora hardly ever saw him at court. He was average in height and golden-skinned, with a long face that was marred by a deep scar that traveled across one cheek down to the corner of his jaw. His hair was dark and loosely curly, always worn tied at the nape of his neck. Alora thought that the first salting of grey had only recently begun along his temples. She was certain she would have noticed otherwise. Sayid was not a handsome man, but she'd always had an instinctive liking for him. She had never sensed in the ranger any further ambition than to be of service to the kingdom, and he avoided the attention-seeking circles of the court like the plague (Alora couldn't fault him for that).
A cutting blast of wind hit them and Catacomb teetered sideways for one wingstroke, then two, before recovering. There were storm clouds heading in from the distant sea -- Alora eyed those nervously, wanting to be well back down from the mountain before that stormfront truly arrived, bringing the wrath of the weather with it. ‘Tulia, we are here now,’ she thought, feeling the swell of the Gods-touch like a tidal current now, as the Dragon’s Crest grew nearer. The pressure inside her mind grew blinding and she had forced her spine to remain straight and not allow the sensation to physically overcome. One wingstroke, then two -- Alora could almost hear the rushing approach over the constant wind that gusted over the summit. Tomb settled on the rocky trip of the summit first, and as Catacomb followed, the overpowering sensation of the Godstouch shattered over Alora like a silent thunderclap. It washed through her and rushed away, leaving her shaken and with her heart hammering against her ribs as though she had run for leagues.
Doom, was all Tulia had said to her as the Gods-touch faded. Doom and peril.
Catacomb was still settling, putting her hooves down cautiously on the steep, wind-swept slope and testing the bare stone with her weight before folding her wings. Alora let go of the riding straps with her left hand and rubbed her face, trying to bring sensation back to the numbed skin. She eyed the footing on both sides of the summit, not wanting to dismount here. Without wings, any fall from this height would be fatal. Catacomb had wound up pressed up close against Tomb on the same broken stretch of stone, her dark neck pressed against the stallion’s pale shoulder. The cold wind caught the Nordanners’ manes and tails and whipped them leeward. Something about the downslope seemed odd to the young queen, but Alora couldn’t tell what. Above her, Tomb blew a snort stolen by the gusting wind and settled his wings. Alora looked up to find Sayid looking down at her, clearly ready to caution her against attempting the dismount. They were close enough that she could see that his eyes were golden, like amber sunlight.
“We’re here,” she said, trying to sound crisply regal. “Show me what you were describing to Edmund.”
Sayid nodded. When he spoke, she had to strain to hear his soft voice over the constant howling of the wind. “Just below our horses’ hooves and to the right,” he said, pointing with one hand down the leeward side of Dragon’s Crest.
Alora looked down, realizing as she did so what had struck her as off. Both sides of Dragon’s Crest were exposed stone, but the wind could only scour the windward side of that steep slope. She frowned, seeing mottled dark veins in the exposed stone. Then her eyes made sense of it, and horror turned her gut sour.
The leeward side of Dragon’s Crest was bare of stone because it had been melted away. And it was melted away not by the wind or sun, but by the sulphurous burn of black magic, bleeding into the veins of the rock.
“Corruption,” Alora said, giving voice to the horror that swept through her. Doom and peril, echoed Tulia’s lingering Gods-touch.
“There is a center point, about five yards down,” Sayid said, no longer pointing. “Tomb found it, and when we were here only three days ago, it still looked like a handprint in the snow.”
Alora looked up at her companion in the starkest dismay. “Only three days ago? How far has the corruption spread in those three days?”
The ranger’s face was blank of emotion. Only his eyes expressed his fear. “M’lady, you can see. This whole side of the summit has grown poisoned.”
She looked again and her sense of dread only increased. She swallowed against a mouth gone dry and somehow no longer felt the cold, replaced by a chill of foreboding. Doom and peril, Tulia promised.
“Vramien,” she said bitterly. “So much corruption can only be the Demon Prince’s work.”
“I fear so, my queen,” Sayid agreed. She looked up at him again. He was watching her face closely. “And the poison is spreading fast. If I had realized how quickly the corruption was spreading, I would have insisted that--”
The ranger’s urgent words were interrupted when the windswept crest of the mountain suddenly split and crumbled away beneath their Nordanners’ hooves. Both horses vaulted into the air in an explosion of wings to avoid the sudden collapse of stone. Heartbeats later, the bare ridgeline was mottled with corruption, and veins of it had begun to inch their way down the windward side of Dragon’s Crest.
“--the mages must come and see this for themselves!” Alora finished for him, yelling to be heard over the rush of the icy wind. Sayid caught her words despite the furious gale and nodded. Without further word, she reined Catacomb about and set her heels against the mare’s dark flanks. The liver chestnut Ortho sailed away down the slope of the mountain, heading eagerly for warmer altitudes and home.
Dragon's Crest faded into the distance, but the dread in Alora's gut only grew. Tomb swept up alongside Catacomb, matching the mare wingstroke for wingstroke. The two Nordanners raced for home, the speed of their flight making discussion between the two riders impossible. But Alora could see Sayid’s face, and read the dismay and resolve which had settled there in equal measure. She wished she could speak with him now, but she doubted he was a man who would lie to her and tell his queen only what she wanted to hear. And she feared what he might tell her.
Only what I dread I already know, she thought miserably, turning her face for home. Doom and peril for us all. Vramien could not destroy us, but he can destroy the land beneath us. If we cannot find a way to combat this fast-spreading corruption, we will either flee this island, or we will die.
Alora clung to her flight straps and urged Catacomb to even greater speed. Tulia had gone silent again, but Alora didn’t need the deity to know what she needed to do.
We defeated Vramien before, but we did not destroy him. This time, I must destroy him, or this danger for us will never end.
The two riders flew their mounts higher and higher, until the air grew thin and Queen Alora was shivering despite her embroidered sheepskin coat and gloves. The rolling farm fields and villages below gave way first to dark forests and then snowy slopes as the two winged horses carried their riders up toward the lonely mountain summit above.
Alora watched the approaching peak with an increasing sense of displacement, as though her spirit-self were shrinking away. She was no stranger to being Gods-touched; indeed, it was her birthright and the source of her arcane power. But that dissociative experience had never before lasted longer than a few heartbeats; before the brush of the divine had passed through her and provided the knowledge the Triptych had desired delivered. Alora clung now to her mare’s riding straps, her senses shadowed by vertigo. Alora was grateful for the body heat the dark Ortho Catacomb shared with her. The closer the two winged Nordanners drew to the mountain peak, the more Alora’s skin crawled with a sense of preternatural dread--goosebumps prickling along her arms despite the well-insulated clothing--and she was equally grateful for the lionhearted courage of the lovely mare she rode.
‘Tulia,’ Alora prayed now, increasingly certain that the Windswept One was the one who was calling her here, higher and higher toward the bleak granite summit. Dragon’s Crest was the highest peak in all of Aleria. It was a mountaintop the young queen was familiar with as a distant sight to be admired from a tower window. This was her first time making the long, cold flight to the summit. ‘Tulia, what are you calling for me to see?’ she asked in supplication. But there was no answer, only the continued, shimmering sense of dislocation that meant the deity was with her -- listening, or guiding, or perhaps just toying with her, for fickle Tulia did things for reasons of her own that rarely made sense to mortal kind.
Pale wings spread wide before her momentarily before the amber cream Ortho stallion Tomb banked and circled, swinging around Catacomb before sweeping up close beside. The young queen steeled her expression, doing her best to show no weakness to the ranger who now rode beside her. Sayid was the man’s name. He was one of Edmund’s most trusted rangers -- indeed, the man was so often out in the field on missions for the Arena Master that Alora hardly ever saw him at court. He was average in height and golden-skinned, with a long face that was marred by a deep scar that traveled across one cheek down to the corner of his jaw. His hair was dark and loosely curly, always worn tied at the nape of his neck. Alora thought that the first salting of grey had only recently begun along his temples. She was certain she would have noticed otherwise. Sayid was not a handsome man, but she'd always had an instinctive liking for him. She had never sensed in the ranger any further ambition than to be of service to the kingdom, and he avoided the attention-seeking circles of the court like the plague (Alora couldn't fault him for that).
A cutting blast of wind hit them and Catacomb teetered sideways for one wingstroke, then two, before recovering. There were storm clouds heading in from the distant sea -- Alora eyed those nervously, wanting to be well back down from the mountain before that stormfront truly arrived, bringing the wrath of the weather with it. ‘Tulia, we are here now,’ she thought, feeling the swell of the Gods-touch like a tidal current now, as the Dragon’s Crest grew nearer. The pressure inside her mind grew blinding and she had forced her spine to remain straight and not allow the sensation to physically overcome. One wingstroke, then two -- Alora could almost hear the rushing approach over the constant wind that gusted over the summit. Tomb settled on the rocky trip of the summit first, and as Catacomb followed, the overpowering sensation of the Godstouch shattered over Alora like a silent thunderclap. It washed through her and rushed away, leaving her shaken and with her heart hammering against her ribs as though she had run for leagues.
Doom, was all Tulia had said to her as the Gods-touch faded. Doom and peril.
Catacomb was still settling, putting her hooves down cautiously on the steep, wind-swept slope and testing the bare stone with her weight before folding her wings. Alora let go of the riding straps with her left hand and rubbed her face, trying to bring sensation back to the numbed skin. She eyed the footing on both sides of the summit, not wanting to dismount here. Without wings, any fall from this height would be fatal. Catacomb had wound up pressed up close against Tomb on the same broken stretch of stone, her dark neck pressed against the stallion’s pale shoulder. The cold wind caught the Nordanners’ manes and tails and whipped them leeward. Something about the downslope seemed odd to the young queen, but Alora couldn’t tell what. Above her, Tomb blew a snort stolen by the gusting wind and settled his wings. Alora looked up to find Sayid looking down at her, clearly ready to caution her against attempting the dismount. They were close enough that she could see that his eyes were golden, like amber sunlight.
“We’re here,” she said, trying to sound crisply regal. “Show me what you were describing to Edmund.”
Sayid nodded. When he spoke, she had to strain to hear his soft voice over the constant howling of the wind. “Just below our horses’ hooves and to the right,” he said, pointing with one hand down the leeward side of Dragon’s Crest.
Alora looked down, realizing as she did so what had struck her as off. Both sides of Dragon’s Crest were exposed stone, but the wind could only scour the windward side of that steep slope. She frowned, seeing mottled dark veins in the exposed stone. Then her eyes made sense of it, and horror turned her gut sour.
The leeward side of Dragon’s Crest was bare of stone because it had been melted away. And it was melted away not by the wind or sun, but by the sulphurous burn of black magic, bleeding into the veins of the rock.
“Corruption,” Alora said, giving voice to the horror that swept through her. Doom and peril, echoed Tulia’s lingering Gods-touch.
“There is a center point, about five yards down,” Sayid said, no longer pointing. “Tomb found it, and when we were here only three days ago, it still looked like a handprint in the snow.”
Alora looked up at her companion in the starkest dismay. “Only three days ago? How far has the corruption spread in those three days?”
The ranger’s face was blank of emotion. Only his eyes expressed his fear. “M’lady, you can see. This whole side of the summit has grown poisoned.”
She looked again and her sense of dread only increased. She swallowed against a mouth gone dry and somehow no longer felt the cold, replaced by a chill of foreboding. Doom and peril, Tulia promised.
“Vramien,” she said bitterly. “So much corruption can only be the Demon Prince’s work.”
“I fear so, my queen,” Sayid agreed. She looked up at him again. He was watching her face closely. “And the poison is spreading fast. If I had realized how quickly the corruption was spreading, I would have insisted that--”
The ranger’s urgent words were interrupted when the windswept crest of the mountain suddenly split and crumbled away beneath their Nordanners’ hooves. Both horses vaulted into the air in an explosion of wings to avoid the sudden collapse of stone. Heartbeats later, the bare ridgeline was mottled with corruption, and veins of it had begun to inch their way down the windward side of Dragon’s Crest.
“--the mages must come and see this for themselves!” Alora finished for him, yelling to be heard over the rush of the icy wind. Sayid caught her words despite the furious gale and nodded. Without further word, she reined Catacomb about and set her heels against the mare’s dark flanks. The liver chestnut Ortho sailed away down the slope of the mountain, heading eagerly for warmer altitudes and home.
Dragon's Crest faded into the distance, but the dread in Alora's gut only grew. Tomb swept up alongside Catacomb, matching the mare wingstroke for wingstroke. The two Nordanners raced for home, the speed of their flight making discussion between the two riders impossible. But Alora could see Sayid’s face, and read the dismay and resolve which had settled there in equal measure. She wished she could speak with him now, but she doubted he was a man who would lie to her and tell his queen only what she wanted to hear. And she feared what he might tell her.
Only what I dread I already know, she thought miserably, turning her face for home. Doom and peril for us all. Vramien could not destroy us, but he can destroy the land beneath us. If we cannot find a way to combat this fast-spreading corruption, we will either flee this island, or we will die.
Alora clung to her flight straps and urged Catacomb to even greater speed. Tulia had gone silent again, but Alora didn’t need the deity to know what she needed to do.
We defeated Vramien before, but we did not destroy him. This time, I must destroy him, or this danger for us will never end.
Gods’ Touch – Part 2: Barachiel The Moon-Chosen
Written by BrowncoatWhit – 13 December 2021
With the recognition that the Demon Prince’s corruption had begun to spread, and that it’s polluted touch would overcome the island of Aleria within only a handful of years, Queen Aleria had returned home from the summit of the Dragon’s Spine and begun at once to organize the salvation of her people. She had seen through the Godtouch from the Nordanner deity Tulia that it would take the efforts of every man, woman and child to safely evacuate the homeland they had only just settled. Magic could not provide a portal escape from destruction this time, as it had before. Instead, it would require hard work to organize the resources, build the necessary transport barges and ships to ferry the entire kingdom to safety -- and create the potions necessary to allow their Nordanners to participate in that salvation as well. While the first steps for the evacuation began to unfold, Queen Alora also dispatched every available noble and ranger to search for their new sanctuary. Her people had to find somewhere safe to evacuate too, as well. She only hoped that some sort of peaceful arrangement could be made when a new location suitable for their kingdom could be found. She hoped and prayed that it would not come to warfare -- but just in cast, she set the kingdom’s armorers and weaponsmiths to work, and set Lord Edmund the Arenamaster to work on detailed plans of how to draft up additional militia, and how to feed, cloth, and provide for their mounts should an extended military campaign become necessary.
Prepare for the worst, but pray for the best. And before the end of the first moon-cycle, Queen’s Alora found her prayers answered.
# # #
The abandoned city had been built on the shores of a great, deep water bay. Catacomb and the other five Nordanners had been flying since dawn and the dark chestnut Ortho mare was happy to land on the stone stretch of pier. Alora patted the mare’s shoulder in thanks as she dismounted, then stood for a moment clinging to her flight harness straps and leaning against the General’s side while her knees and thighs recovered from long, long hours of travel. She licked the sea salt from her lips, knowing her mirror would find her face chapped and windburn when she next looked into it. The minor physical discomforts were trivial, however. She focused instead on her companions, who were dismounting as well to give their loyal mounts a rest.
“This is remarkable,” her Arenamaster said, leading the smokey cream jaguar General mare Naia by the reins as he began to walk up the length of the pier toward the empty docks. Naia’s shod feet rang against the worked limestone blocks that the entire visible dockside had been built from. Beyond them lay the first visible structures -- square two- and three-story buildings, set close together in what from the sky had proved to be a roaded gridwork of paved cobbled roads, much of which had promised to be wide enough for a pair axle-wide conveyances to pass one another. The buildings the Alerian queen could see from where she stood now appeared to have been made of hewn lumber or brick, with roofs of colorful tile roofs. “You are certain that the place is entirely abandoned?”
The question had been meant for the dark-haired ranger who had landed his stallion behind Catacomb. Alora glanced back toward Sayid; he stood with his favored General Tomb at his side, waiting patiently for his queen to proceed him. It was one of Sayid’s younger partners who answered the Arenamaster instead. “The three of us and our horses have spent the past half-moon wandering through the city, sir,” young Joanie replied. The young woman lengthened her stride to fall into step alongside Lord Edmund and the other ranger, with her silver-mane seal bay tobiano-overo stallion Bronn following close at her heels. “The people who lived here are all gone. Livestock, pets, children -- all gone, sir.”
“But not the rats,” laughed the other woman, the half-elf ranger Evandyl. She followed a stride behind the Arenamaster, leading her silver-maned black jaguar mare Velistri by the reins. The winged faerie cat who looked to Evandyl and Velistri sat on in the jaguar’s saddle, her tail curled around her and her wings half-furled for balance as the mare walked, while Bronn and Joanie’s sable faerie fox stay awing above them, keeping an alert eye on their surrounding from that vantage. “We still got rats here aplenty, I’m sorry to say.”
“Not so bad as I’d have expected,” Joanie replied with a snort of laughter. “But rot it, though, if we’ve been able to find what’s been eating them to keep their numbers in check. Houses are all empty tho’, and it looks like wherever they all went, they had time to pack up supplies and their valuables.”
“Orderly,” Evandyl agreed. “Not in a panic.”
Alora felt the last of the pins and needles leave her feet. She gave Sayid a nod of thanks for his patient and started after the others, pulling Catacomb with her when the liver chestnut Ortho would have preferred to keep inspecting a bit of greenery that crept up between the cracks in the limestone slabs beneath their feet. Alora heard the solid sound of Tomb following, and resisted the desire to look back and see if the laconic ranger behind them was watching her still. The golden-eyed man had become a constant distraction to her, and she needed to wrestle her attention back to where it belonged.
“I can’t understand how the people who built this place would simply abandon it,” she said. “Not unless under great duress.”
“Neither could we,” Joanie answered. “But whatever their reason was, the entire city is empty. And so are the villages and the fields out beyond it. Every wagon, hand cart, fishing boat or sailing ship. Gone.”
“No signs of bodies,” Sayid spoke up then. “We thought at first that perhaps there had been a plague. But there’s no bodies left behind.”
“No burial pits or signs of large pyres,” Evandyl agreed. “Like I said. Whatever their reasons, they left everything behind them in an orderly way, no signs of panic. But the fields are overgrown -- there have been crops planted and left behind unharvested.”
Ahead of them, Lord Edmund had reached the dockside and stood beside his Nordanner General to allow the rest of the exploratory party to catch up to him. “This is all so extraordinary,” he said, looking around them with a critical eye.
“Certainly it’s extraordinary,” Alora agreed, with a growing sense of rightness. “This a Godsend,” she said, feeling the first, growing tingle of the Godstouch as she said those words. “Our people needed this, and the Gods have provided it,” she said with confidence, even as she opened her heart and mind to that divine connection.
Lord Edmund turned to them, one hand resting on Naia’s neck. “We should give our Generals a rest,” he said, “... and then I want to take a reconnaissance flight up toward that structure on the hill. Is it a temple or a palace?”
“It’s walled off and from the parade grounds and empty barracks, we think it was a…” Joanie was answering, but whatever the young ranger was saying faded from Alora’s ears as she felt the tingle of the Godstouch turn into a sudden, enveloping tidal rush. The Godstouch was a mark of her heritage, of the kingsblood that ran through her veins. When she experienced the divine touch, it was usually a gentle communication, a sudden, shared vision or profound sense of otherworldly confirmation. But much like her last communion with the Nordanner gods, this time the Godstouch was all-consuming, blocking out all other sensations as it swept over her.
This time, it was Barachiel who spoke to her. It was He who reassured her that this place, this unnamed island and abandoned city with its deepwater port and its fields and farms, were where He wanted their chosen to take refuge. But for all of the confirmation in the wordless pulse of Knowing he shared with his servant, Barachiel sent a grim Warning as well. There was grave danger ahead, yet unseen. There would be great joy as well -- and new life. That, most important of all. Sanctuary here, and new life to be born upon its shores.
When the powerful Godstouch began to fade, Alora woke to find herself laying on the ground, partially cradled by Sayid. Her shoulder pressed against his chest and her head rested against his shoulder, and she felt Catacomb’s velvety lips nibbling in question against the opposite arm of her coat. She gazed up into the ranger’s battle-scarred face, finding comfort in the warmth of his worried amber eyes.
“--my queen?” Edmund was asking, kneeling beside her and pressing her arm urgently. The two rangers and all three of their horses were clustered behind him, all of them looking at her in distress, while the sable-colored faerie fox was making a tight circle overhead. Only the blue-eyed faerie cat seemed unworried. She was curled up on the queen’s belly, purring and making contented biscuit’s against Alora’s heavy fur-trimmed coat.
“I am fine,” she said, brushing away her Arenamaster’s concern. “Barachiel spoke to me. This will be our home. We need only move our people and herds here to it in time for the wedding.”
Edmund’s grizzled face showed her Arenamaster’s confusion. “M’lady?” he said. “What wedding?
Alora only smiled up into Sayid’s eyes and did not answer that question.
With the recognition that the Demon Prince’s corruption had begun to spread, and that it’s polluted touch would overcome the island of Aleria within only a handful of years, Queen Aleria had returned home from the summit of the Dragon’s Spine and begun at once to organize the salvation of her people. She had seen through the Godtouch from the Nordanner deity Tulia that it would take the efforts of every man, woman and child to safely evacuate the homeland they had only just settled. Magic could not provide a portal escape from destruction this time, as it had before. Instead, it would require hard work to organize the resources, build the necessary transport barges and ships to ferry the entire kingdom to safety -- and create the potions necessary to allow their Nordanners to participate in that salvation as well. While the first steps for the evacuation began to unfold, Queen Alora also dispatched every available noble and ranger to search for their new sanctuary. Her people had to find somewhere safe to evacuate too, as well. She only hoped that some sort of peaceful arrangement could be made when a new location suitable for their kingdom could be found. She hoped and prayed that it would not come to warfare -- but just in cast, she set the kingdom’s armorers and weaponsmiths to work, and set Lord Edmund the Arenamaster to work on detailed plans of how to draft up additional militia, and how to feed, cloth, and provide for their mounts should an extended military campaign become necessary.
Prepare for the worst, but pray for the best. And before the end of the first moon-cycle, Queen’s Alora found her prayers answered.
# # #
The abandoned city had been built on the shores of a great, deep water bay. Catacomb and the other five Nordanners had been flying since dawn and the dark chestnut Ortho mare was happy to land on the stone stretch of pier. Alora patted the mare’s shoulder in thanks as she dismounted, then stood for a moment clinging to her flight harness straps and leaning against the General’s side while her knees and thighs recovered from long, long hours of travel. She licked the sea salt from her lips, knowing her mirror would find her face chapped and windburn when she next looked into it. The minor physical discomforts were trivial, however. She focused instead on her companions, who were dismounting as well to give their loyal mounts a rest.
“This is remarkable,” her Arenamaster said, leading the smokey cream jaguar General mare Naia by the reins as he began to walk up the length of the pier toward the empty docks. Naia’s shod feet rang against the worked limestone blocks that the entire visible dockside had been built from. Beyond them lay the first visible structures -- square two- and three-story buildings, set close together in what from the sky had proved to be a roaded gridwork of paved cobbled roads, much of which had promised to be wide enough for a pair axle-wide conveyances to pass one another. The buildings the Alerian queen could see from where she stood now appeared to have been made of hewn lumber or brick, with roofs of colorful tile roofs. “You are certain that the place is entirely abandoned?”
The question had been meant for the dark-haired ranger who had landed his stallion behind Catacomb. Alora glanced back toward Sayid; he stood with his favored General Tomb at his side, waiting patiently for his queen to proceed him. It was one of Sayid’s younger partners who answered the Arenamaster instead. “The three of us and our horses have spent the past half-moon wandering through the city, sir,” young Joanie replied. The young woman lengthened her stride to fall into step alongside Lord Edmund and the other ranger, with her silver-mane seal bay tobiano-overo stallion Bronn following close at her heels. “The people who lived here are all gone. Livestock, pets, children -- all gone, sir.”
“But not the rats,” laughed the other woman, the half-elf ranger Evandyl. She followed a stride behind the Arenamaster, leading her silver-maned black jaguar mare Velistri by the reins. The winged faerie cat who looked to Evandyl and Velistri sat on in the jaguar’s saddle, her tail curled around her and her wings half-furled for balance as the mare walked, while Bronn and Joanie’s sable faerie fox stay awing above them, keeping an alert eye on their surrounding from that vantage. “We still got rats here aplenty, I’m sorry to say.”
“Not so bad as I’d have expected,” Joanie replied with a snort of laughter. “But rot it, though, if we’ve been able to find what’s been eating them to keep their numbers in check. Houses are all empty tho’, and it looks like wherever they all went, they had time to pack up supplies and their valuables.”
“Orderly,” Evandyl agreed. “Not in a panic.”
Alora felt the last of the pins and needles leave her feet. She gave Sayid a nod of thanks for his patient and started after the others, pulling Catacomb with her when the liver chestnut Ortho would have preferred to keep inspecting a bit of greenery that crept up between the cracks in the limestone slabs beneath their feet. Alora heard the solid sound of Tomb following, and resisted the desire to look back and see if the laconic ranger behind them was watching her still. The golden-eyed man had become a constant distraction to her, and she needed to wrestle her attention back to where it belonged.
“I can’t understand how the people who built this place would simply abandon it,” she said. “Not unless under great duress.”
“Neither could we,” Joanie answered. “But whatever their reason was, the entire city is empty. And so are the villages and the fields out beyond it. Every wagon, hand cart, fishing boat or sailing ship. Gone.”
“No signs of bodies,” Sayid spoke up then. “We thought at first that perhaps there had been a plague. But there’s no bodies left behind.”
“No burial pits or signs of large pyres,” Evandyl agreed. “Like I said. Whatever their reasons, they left everything behind them in an orderly way, no signs of panic. But the fields are overgrown -- there have been crops planted and left behind unharvested.”
Ahead of them, Lord Edmund had reached the dockside and stood beside his Nordanner General to allow the rest of the exploratory party to catch up to him. “This is all so extraordinary,” he said, looking around them with a critical eye.
“Certainly it’s extraordinary,” Alora agreed, with a growing sense of rightness. “This a Godsend,” she said, feeling the first, growing tingle of the Godstouch as she said those words. “Our people needed this, and the Gods have provided it,” she said with confidence, even as she opened her heart and mind to that divine connection.
Lord Edmund turned to them, one hand resting on Naia’s neck. “We should give our Generals a rest,” he said, “... and then I want to take a reconnaissance flight up toward that structure on the hill. Is it a temple or a palace?”
“It’s walled off and from the parade grounds and empty barracks, we think it was a…” Joanie was answering, but whatever the young ranger was saying faded from Alora’s ears as she felt the tingle of the Godstouch turn into a sudden, enveloping tidal rush. The Godstouch was a mark of her heritage, of the kingsblood that ran through her veins. When she experienced the divine touch, it was usually a gentle communication, a sudden, shared vision or profound sense of otherworldly confirmation. But much like her last communion with the Nordanner gods, this time the Godstouch was all-consuming, blocking out all other sensations as it swept over her.
This time, it was Barachiel who spoke to her. It was He who reassured her that this place, this unnamed island and abandoned city with its deepwater port and its fields and farms, were where He wanted their chosen to take refuge. But for all of the confirmation in the wordless pulse of Knowing he shared with his servant, Barachiel sent a grim Warning as well. There was grave danger ahead, yet unseen. There would be great joy as well -- and new life. That, most important of all. Sanctuary here, and new life to be born upon its shores.
When the powerful Godstouch began to fade, Alora woke to find herself laying on the ground, partially cradled by Sayid. Her shoulder pressed against his chest and her head rested against his shoulder, and she felt Catacomb’s velvety lips nibbling in question against the opposite arm of her coat. She gazed up into the ranger’s battle-scarred face, finding comfort in the warmth of his worried amber eyes.
“--my queen?” Edmund was asking, kneeling beside her and pressing her arm urgently. The two rangers and all three of their horses were clustered behind him, all of them looking at her in distress, while the sable-colored faerie fox was making a tight circle overhead. Only the blue-eyed faerie cat seemed unworried. She was curled up on the queen’s belly, purring and making contented biscuit’s against Alora’s heavy fur-trimmed coat.
“I am fine,” she said, brushing away her Arenamaster’s concern. “Barachiel spoke to me. This will be our home. We need only move our people and herds here to it in time for the wedding.”
Edmund’s grizzled face showed her Arenamaster’s confusion. “M’lady?” he said. “What wedding?
Alora only smiled up into Sayid’s eyes and did not answer that question.
Gods’ Touch – Part 3: Vahnex, The Crown of Stars
Written by BrowncoatWhit – 26 December 2021
Wedding bells rang across the capital city of Freytide. It was Midsummer Eve, and the refugees from Aleria had been streaming to the shores of their new home since the threat of winter storms at sea had faded. Every day the city’s port was filled with sailing ships and deepwater barges pulled by teams of Oceanpearl Nordanners; the skies were filled with Goldenwing horses flying west back toward Aleria and other excavation ships at sea. Families and craftspeople were claiming their homes and shops in the city, while the scions of society sent their sons and daughters off to lay claim in the unsettled lands for future noble manors. Laborers worked day and night to remove cargo from vessels and move it into the dockside warehouses, and soon, everyone hoped, the herds of wild Nordanners would be wrangled onto waiting sailing ships and carried across the sea, followed by more common livestock of the Alerian ranchers and shepherds.
It had been nearly a year and a half since Alora herself had first stepped onto the limestone pier here in the city of Freytide, on the island she had named Kisarana. Nearly a year and half since she had last felt a Godstouch and communed with the divine Nordanner spirits. And a year since the last Midsummer’s Eve, when she had proposed marriage to the man she loved. She still marveled that Sayid had accepted her request to become her Queen’s Consort. The golden-eyed ranger hated the court politics and the close streets of the city. But he had proven her loyal helpmeet in the difficult business of planning and overseeing her kingdom’s evacuation from Aleria, and relocation here on the empty shores of Kisarana. And she had no doubt today in courage, or willingness of sacrifice… or in his love for her.
Newly rehomed citizens of Aleria lined the streets and cheered for the royal carriage as it was drawn down the hill from the gates of the walled palace. Generals Leith and Kaeo led the way, with Dax and Gaia paired behind them, all four groomed to a polish and blanketed in gold silk as they pulled the open carriage. Alora beamed and waved to the throngs of adoring people. Sayid had beside her, groomed to an unfamiliar polish himself in his wedding clothes. His expression still looked dazed, but he was trying to smile for the cheering crowds as well.
“They love you!” Alora promised her newly-vowed husband, laughing with sympathy for his overwhelmed look. He would rather be hunting dragons than this, she knew -- and she loved him all the more for his willingness to bear this burden for her. She reached for his hand and he seized hers in return, their fingers twined near the red-leather sleek seat between them.
“They love you,” Sayid replied with a weary chuckle. “They would cheer for a swineherd if they knew you loved him.”
Drawn by the foursome of Nordanner generals, the gilt carriage rolled on through the adoring crowds, heading for the dockside. The royal galleon awaited the Queen and her consort there. They would spend their honeymoon on the three-day sail back to Aleria’s eastern coast, where the queen’s ship would take on the first of the wild Nordanner herds, to be carried back to their new homeland. They would have three days and nights together in as complete privacy as the queen had ever known. It would be a respite before that difficult work would begin again, and Alora was eagerly looking forward to the time spent in bed with her Consort, with nothing else to distract them.
When the Godstouch brushed her again, it was like the gentlest of caresses, or the kiss of a beloved against the back of her neck. For the briefest of moments, the colors of the world around her heightened, and the smell of leather and wood polish sharpened to the sweetest perfume. The cheers of the admiring crowds faded, and only the ring of the hooves of the four Nordanner Generals against the cobbled stone was audible to her ears.
You will be blessed. The message was a wordless promise heard with the soul and not the mind. The caresses lingered for a moment, like a father’s benediction, before it faded and the sounds and colors of the world settled back into normalcy again.
Vahnex. The knowledge brought with it a sudden flood of happy tears. Lord Vahnex, he who was Crowned of Stars and most powerful of the three gods of the Nordanners. It was He who had touched her with that blessing. Alora flushed with pleasure and pride, and clutched that greatest of wedding gifts close to her heart.
Wedding bells rang across the capital city of Freytide. It was Midsummer Eve, and the refugees from Aleria had been streaming to the shores of their new home since the threat of winter storms at sea had faded. Every day the city’s port was filled with sailing ships and deepwater barges pulled by teams of Oceanpearl Nordanners; the skies were filled with Goldenwing horses flying west back toward Aleria and other excavation ships at sea. Families and craftspeople were claiming their homes and shops in the city, while the scions of society sent their sons and daughters off to lay claim in the unsettled lands for future noble manors. Laborers worked day and night to remove cargo from vessels and move it into the dockside warehouses, and soon, everyone hoped, the herds of wild Nordanners would be wrangled onto waiting sailing ships and carried across the sea, followed by more common livestock of the Alerian ranchers and shepherds.
It had been nearly a year and a half since Alora herself had first stepped onto the limestone pier here in the city of Freytide, on the island she had named Kisarana. Nearly a year and half since she had last felt a Godstouch and communed with the divine Nordanner spirits. And a year since the last Midsummer’s Eve, when she had proposed marriage to the man she loved. She still marveled that Sayid had accepted her request to become her Queen’s Consort. The golden-eyed ranger hated the court politics and the close streets of the city. But he had proven her loyal helpmeet in the difficult business of planning and overseeing her kingdom’s evacuation from Aleria, and relocation here on the empty shores of Kisarana. And she had no doubt today in courage, or willingness of sacrifice… or in his love for her.
Newly rehomed citizens of Aleria lined the streets and cheered for the royal carriage as it was drawn down the hill from the gates of the walled palace. Generals Leith and Kaeo led the way, with Dax and Gaia paired behind them, all four groomed to a polish and blanketed in gold silk as they pulled the open carriage. Alora beamed and waved to the throngs of adoring people. Sayid had beside her, groomed to an unfamiliar polish himself in his wedding clothes. His expression still looked dazed, but he was trying to smile for the cheering crowds as well.
“They love you!” Alora promised her newly-vowed husband, laughing with sympathy for his overwhelmed look. He would rather be hunting dragons than this, she knew -- and she loved him all the more for his willingness to bear this burden for her. She reached for his hand and he seized hers in return, their fingers twined near the red-leather sleek seat between them.
“They love you,” Sayid replied with a weary chuckle. “They would cheer for a swineherd if they knew you loved him.”
Drawn by the foursome of Nordanner generals, the gilt carriage rolled on through the adoring crowds, heading for the dockside. The royal galleon awaited the Queen and her consort there. They would spend their honeymoon on the three-day sail back to Aleria’s eastern coast, where the queen’s ship would take on the first of the wild Nordanner herds, to be carried back to their new homeland. They would have three days and nights together in as complete privacy as the queen had ever known. It would be a respite before that difficult work would begin again, and Alora was eagerly looking forward to the time spent in bed with her Consort, with nothing else to distract them.
When the Godstouch brushed her again, it was like the gentlest of caresses, or the kiss of a beloved against the back of her neck. For the briefest of moments, the colors of the world around her heightened, and the smell of leather and wood polish sharpened to the sweetest perfume. The cheers of the admiring crowds faded, and only the ring of the hooves of the four Nordanner Generals against the cobbled stone was audible to her ears.
You will be blessed. The message was a wordless promise heard with the soul and not the mind. The caresses lingered for a moment, like a father’s benediction, before it faded and the sounds and colors of the world settled back into normalcy again.
Vahnex. The knowledge brought with it a sudden flood of happy tears. Lord Vahnex, he who was Crowned of Stars and most powerful of the three gods of the Nordanners. It was He who had touched her with that blessing. Alora flushed with pleasure and pride, and clutched that greatest of wedding gifts close to her heart.
Gods’ Touch – Part 4: Gods’ Price
Written by BrowncoatWhit – 31 December 2021
Wedding bells rang across the capital city of Freytide. It was Midsummer Eve, and the refugees from Aleria had been streaming to the shores of their new home since the threat of winter storms at sea had faded. Every day the city’s port was filled with sailing ships and deepwater barges pulled by teams of Oceanpearl Nordanners; the skies were filled with Goldenwing horses flying west back toward Aleria and other excavation ships at sea. Families and craftspeople were claiming their homes and shops in the city, while the scions of society sent their sons and daughters off to lay claim in the unsettled lands for future noble manors. Laborers worked day and night to remove cargo from vessels and move it into the dockside warehouses, and soon, everyone hoped, the herds of wild Nordanners would be wrangled onto waiting sailing ships and carried across the sea, followed by more common livestock of the Alerian ranchers and shepherds.
It had been nearly a year and a half since Alora herself had first stepped onto the limestone pier here in the city of Freytide, on the island she had named Kisarana. Nearly a year and half since she had last felt a Godstouch and communed with the divine Nordanner spirits. And a year since the last Midsummer’s Eve, when she had proposed marriage to the man she loved. She still marveled that Sayid had accepted her request to become her Queen’s Consort. The golden-eyed ranger hated the court politics and the close streets of the city. But he had proven her loyal helpmeet in the difficult business of planning and overseeing her kingdom’s evacuation from Aleria, and relocation here on the empty shores of Kisarana. And she had no doubt today in courage, or willingness of sacrifice… or in his love for her.
Newly rehomed citizens of Aleria lined the streets and cheered for the royal carriage as it was drawn down the hill from the gates of the walled palace. Generals Leith and Kaeo led the way, with Dax and Gaia paired behind them, all four groomed to a polish and blanketed in gold silk as they pulled the open carriage. Alora beamed and waved to the throngs of adoring people. Sayid had beside her, groomed to an unfamiliar polish himself in his wedding clothes. His expression still looked dazed, but he was trying to smile for the cheering crowds as well.
“They love you!” Alora promised her newly-vowed husband, laughing with sympathy for his overwhelmed look. He would rather be hunting dragons than this, she knew -- and she loved him all the more for his willingness to bear this burden for her. She reached for his hand and he seized hers in return, their fingers twined near the red-leather sleek seat between them.
“They love you,” Sayid replied with a weary chuckle. “They would cheer for a swineherd if they knew you loved him.”
Drawn by the foursome of Nordanner generals, the gilt carriage rolled on through the adoring crowds, heading for the dockside. The royal galleon awaited the Queen and her consort there. They would spend their honeymoon on the three-day sail back to Aleria’s eastern coast, where the queen’s ship would take on the first of the wild Nordanner herds, to be carried back to their new homeland. They would have three days and nights together in as complete privacy as the queen had ever known. It would be a respite before that difficult work would begin again, and Alora was eagerly looking forward to the time spent in bed with her Consort, with nothing else to distract them.
When the Godstouch brushed her again, it was like the gentlest of caresses, or the kiss of a beloved against the back of her neck. For the briefest of moments, the colors of the world around her heightened, and the smell of leather and wood polish sharpened to the sweetest perfume. The cheers of the admiring crowds faded, and only the ring of the hooves of the four Nordanner Generals against the cobbled stone was audible to her ears.
You will be blessed. The message was a wordless promise heard with the soul and not the mind. The caresses lingered for a moment, like a father’s benediction, before it faded and the sounds and colors of the world settled back into normalcy again.
Vahnex. The knowledge brought with it a sudden flood of happy tears. Lord Vahnex, he who was Crowned of Stars and most powerful of the three gods of the Nordanners. It was He who had touched her with that blessing. Alora flushed with pleasure and pride, and clutched that greatest of wedding gifts close to her heart.
Wedding bells rang across the capital city of Freytide. It was Midsummer Eve, and the refugees from Aleria had been streaming to the shores of their new home since the threat of winter storms at sea had faded. Every day the city’s port was filled with sailing ships and deepwater barges pulled by teams of Oceanpearl Nordanners; the skies were filled with Goldenwing horses flying west back toward Aleria and other excavation ships at sea. Families and craftspeople were claiming their homes and shops in the city, while the scions of society sent their sons and daughters off to lay claim in the unsettled lands for future noble manors. Laborers worked day and night to remove cargo from vessels and move it into the dockside warehouses, and soon, everyone hoped, the herds of wild Nordanners would be wrangled onto waiting sailing ships and carried across the sea, followed by more common livestock of the Alerian ranchers and shepherds.
It had been nearly a year and a half since Alora herself had first stepped onto the limestone pier here in the city of Freytide, on the island she had named Kisarana. Nearly a year and half since she had last felt a Godstouch and communed with the divine Nordanner spirits. And a year since the last Midsummer’s Eve, when she had proposed marriage to the man she loved. She still marveled that Sayid had accepted her request to become her Queen’s Consort. The golden-eyed ranger hated the court politics and the close streets of the city. But he had proven her loyal helpmeet in the difficult business of planning and overseeing her kingdom’s evacuation from Aleria, and relocation here on the empty shores of Kisarana. And she had no doubt today in courage, or willingness of sacrifice… or in his love for her.
Newly rehomed citizens of Aleria lined the streets and cheered for the royal carriage as it was drawn down the hill from the gates of the walled palace. Generals Leith and Kaeo led the way, with Dax and Gaia paired behind them, all four groomed to a polish and blanketed in gold silk as they pulled the open carriage. Alora beamed and waved to the throngs of adoring people. Sayid had beside her, groomed to an unfamiliar polish himself in his wedding clothes. His expression still looked dazed, but he was trying to smile for the cheering crowds as well.
“They love you!” Alora promised her newly-vowed husband, laughing with sympathy for his overwhelmed look. He would rather be hunting dragons than this, she knew -- and she loved him all the more for his willingness to bear this burden for her. She reached for his hand and he seized hers in return, their fingers twined near the red-leather sleek seat between them.
“They love you,” Sayid replied with a weary chuckle. “They would cheer for a swineherd if they knew you loved him.”
Drawn by the foursome of Nordanner generals, the gilt carriage rolled on through the adoring crowds, heading for the dockside. The royal galleon awaited the Queen and her consort there. They would spend their honeymoon on the three-day sail back to Aleria’s eastern coast, where the queen’s ship would take on the first of the wild Nordanner herds, to be carried back to their new homeland. They would have three days and nights together in as complete privacy as the queen had ever known. It would be a respite before that difficult work would begin again, and Alora was eagerly looking forward to the time spent in bed with her Consort, with nothing else to distract them.
When the Godstouch brushed her again, it was like the gentlest of caresses, or the kiss of a beloved against the back of her neck. For the briefest of moments, the colors of the world around her heightened, and the smell of leather and wood polish sharpened to the sweetest perfume. The cheers of the admiring crowds faded, and only the ring of the hooves of the four Nordanner Generals against the cobbled stone was audible to her ears.
You will be blessed. The message was a wordless promise heard with the soul and not the mind. The caresses lingered for a moment, like a father’s benediction, before it faded and the sounds and colors of the world settled back into normalcy again.
Vahnex. The knowledge brought with it a sudden flood of happy tears. Lord Vahnex, he who was Crowned of Stars and most powerful of the three gods of the Nordanners. It was He who had touched her with that blessing. Alora flushed with pleasure and pride, and clutched that greatest of wedding gifts close to her heart.
The Golden Fox Hunt
Written by BrowncoatWhit – 01 January 2022
The stables were a warm, comfortable place, far more to Sayid’s liking than the cold stone the palace tower, where grief for a lost queen still palpably haunted the corridors and chambers. As much as the stable staff might be bereaved, the needs of the Queen’s Generals took precedence here, and life went on just as it always had before Queen Alora’s death. As deep as Sayid own grief was over his wife’s death, he found comfort in finding some things remained routine and mundane, even if the rest of his life felt as though it had shattered apart.
Sayid paused at the first occupied stall and looked in; Violet, the lilac mare inside, looked up from her manager and immediately whickered in welcome. Nadja woke at the sound and gave an excited coo. The baby reached a chubby fist out past the sling her father was carrying her in, and Violet gave another happy whicker and reached her head and neck out over the stall door to investigate the bundle in the silk sling across Sayid’s chest. He warded off her curiosity with a gentle push, and stepped back just out of the mare’s reach. He knew the Queen’s General would never willingly harm Alora’s heir, but he wasn’t about to take a chance with his daughter’s safety.
“Lord Sayid!” said one of the stableboys, and word of his presence traveled as fast as a lick of fire in dry hay. Within moments, Sayid saw a tall, limping figure hurry out of one of the tack rooms.
“Sayid!” Lord Edmund said. “Is there--” The other man’s alarm vanished as he saw Princess Nadja in the sling across Sayid’s chest. The infant was still cooing and was waving her hand in front of herself, still finding it as novel as she had found the sight of the lilac mare. “No, I see, our Princess is just fine, isn’t she?”
Sayid nodded. There was fresh silver in the other man’s hair and beard, he thought. He wagered there was in his own as well. Grief was aging them both. Grief and responsibility. “Lord Regent,” he said, still never quite comfortable with the man he had previously respected as his senior officer. “The weather had improved enough, I thought I would take my daughter for a walk.” He gestured at the stable around them. “And I have had a thought about that question you posed. About how to honor Alora this year, on her nameday.”
Edmund nodded. The queen had died only months ago now -- it still seemed to Sayid as if it had been only yesterday. Normally the kingdom held celebrations in honor of her day of birth. This year, that tradition would be a bitter one. “I apologize for my reaction last night,” he said. “What I said was hurtful, and I apologize. I was speaking only out of my own pain. And you are right. The kingdom needs the ceremony.”
Edmund’s lean face took on a grateful expression. “The people are homesick for the lands we so quickly evacuated. And the Queen’s loss is still heavy on hearts. We need to find a way to honor her that will lighten those hearts accordingly,” the Arenamaster (and now acting Regent of the kingdom) replied.
“I think I know what that might be,” Sayid said. Violet had reached her nose out to him and he began to rub her forehead, his deft fingers quickly finding exactly the spot the mare liked scratching. His other arm went under Nadja, cradling his baby daughter against his chest. “Alora had said how fondly she remembered the last Golden Fox hunt, hosted by her Mother while she was still a child. She had mused about bringing that tradition back to our new home.”
Edmund thought about that for a moment, and then his expression lit up. “Yes! That might be exactly the thing!” he exclaimed. “Let me speak with the Stablemaster. He will have to train one of his prized amber foxes for this. But that is an old tradition that is ripe for renewal.” He smiled and nodded to Sayid, before extending a finger to touch little Nadja’s waving fist. The infant immediately seized upon it and tried to pull his knuckle toward her mouth. Both men chuckled in amusement at that.
“I should find the wetnurse,” Sayid, with a final, parting pat to Violet’s neck.
“And I will find the Stablemaster and see what we must do to make this happen. A Golden Fox Hunt, like we’ve not seen in many a year!” The prospect had already seemed to have kindled something in Lord Edmund, and he turned away with a fresh lightness to his step as he went in search for the Stablemaster.
Sayid gave Violet a last, familiar pat, and then turned to carry his baby girl back into the palace. For a moment, he found himself anticipating the fox hunt event, if it were to happen. The infant against his chest set up a sudden squawl, as though in protest.
“Not for me, dearheart,” he promised her. “I’ll stay with you, and we will wait to see which of the riders is savvy enough to catch the wily fox and bring you the golden key.”
The stables were a warm, comfortable place, far more to Sayid’s liking than the cold stone the palace tower, where grief for a lost queen still palpably haunted the corridors and chambers. As much as the stable staff might be bereaved, the needs of the Queen’s Generals took precedence here, and life went on just as it always had before Queen Alora’s death. As deep as Sayid own grief was over his wife’s death, he found comfort in finding some things remained routine and mundane, even if the rest of his life felt as though it had shattered apart.
Sayid paused at the first occupied stall and looked in; Violet, the lilac mare inside, looked up from her manager and immediately whickered in welcome. Nadja woke at the sound and gave an excited coo. The baby reached a chubby fist out past the sling her father was carrying her in, and Violet gave another happy whicker and reached her head and neck out over the stall door to investigate the bundle in the silk sling across Sayid’s chest. He warded off her curiosity with a gentle push, and stepped back just out of the mare’s reach. He knew the Queen’s General would never willingly harm Alora’s heir, but he wasn’t about to take a chance with his daughter’s safety.
“Lord Sayid!” said one of the stableboys, and word of his presence traveled as fast as a lick of fire in dry hay. Within moments, Sayid saw a tall, limping figure hurry out of one of the tack rooms.
“Sayid!” Lord Edmund said. “Is there--” The other man’s alarm vanished as he saw Princess Nadja in the sling across Sayid’s chest. The infant was still cooing and was waving her hand in front of herself, still finding it as novel as she had found the sight of the lilac mare. “No, I see, our Princess is just fine, isn’t she?”
Sayid nodded. There was fresh silver in the other man’s hair and beard, he thought. He wagered there was in his own as well. Grief was aging them both. Grief and responsibility. “Lord Regent,” he said, still never quite comfortable with the man he had previously respected as his senior officer. “The weather had improved enough, I thought I would take my daughter for a walk.” He gestured at the stable around them. “And I have had a thought about that question you posed. About how to honor Alora this year, on her nameday.”
Edmund nodded. The queen had died only months ago now -- it still seemed to Sayid as if it had been only yesterday. Normally the kingdom held celebrations in honor of her day of birth. This year, that tradition would be a bitter one. “I apologize for my reaction last night,” he said. “What I said was hurtful, and I apologize. I was speaking only out of my own pain. And you are right. The kingdom needs the ceremony.”
Edmund’s lean face took on a grateful expression. “The people are homesick for the lands we so quickly evacuated. And the Queen’s loss is still heavy on hearts. We need to find a way to honor her that will lighten those hearts accordingly,” the Arenamaster (and now acting Regent of the kingdom) replied.
“I think I know what that might be,” Sayid said. Violet had reached her nose out to him and he began to rub her forehead, his deft fingers quickly finding exactly the spot the mare liked scratching. His other arm went under Nadja, cradling his baby daughter against his chest. “Alora had said how fondly she remembered the last Golden Fox hunt, hosted by her Mother while she was still a child. She had mused about bringing that tradition back to our new home.”
Edmund thought about that for a moment, and then his expression lit up. “Yes! That might be exactly the thing!” he exclaimed. “Let me speak with the Stablemaster. He will have to train one of his prized amber foxes for this. But that is an old tradition that is ripe for renewal.” He smiled and nodded to Sayid, before extending a finger to touch little Nadja’s waving fist. The infant immediately seized upon it and tried to pull his knuckle toward her mouth. Both men chuckled in amusement at that.
“I should find the wetnurse,” Sayid, with a final, parting pat to Violet’s neck.
“And I will find the Stablemaster and see what we must do to make this happen. A Golden Fox Hunt, like we’ve not seen in many a year!” The prospect had already seemed to have kindled something in Lord Edmund, and he turned away with a fresh lightness to his step as he went in search for the Stablemaster.
Sayid gave Violet a last, familiar pat, and then turned to carry his baby girl back into the palace. For a moment, he found himself anticipating the fox hunt event, if it were to happen. The infant against his chest set up a sudden squawl, as though in protest.
“Not for me, dearheart,” he promised her. “I’ll stay with you, and we will wait to see which of the riders is savvy enough to catch the wily fox and bring you the golden key.”
Awakenings
Written by Moosiferr – July 2024
“The girl is a natural.” Vear said as he grunted and swayed, relying heavily on his staff as he approached. The Regent and the Beast Master shared a brief greeting, then Vear leaned heavily on the arena fence. The young Nadja – soon to be Queen Nadja, sat astride the bay-and-white royal stallion Artemis, and was guiding him through a set of obstacles set in place by her father Sayid. The stallion was known for being difficult, and had thrown plenty of other riders during his training, but seemed perfectly content to follow the young Queen’s directions. Edmund made a sound in the back of his throat in agreement, then nodded,
“She is indeed, and it seems Artemis has just as much fondness for our Queen as her people.”
“Still salty from him dumping ye last week during flight training Edmund?”
The graying regent gritted his teeth, “I had Jemima as backup. She managed to break my fall.”
Vear let out a raspy laugh, drawing a look from the Queen and Artemis as they passed. The stallion pinned his ears, but stayed his course, carrying his rider dutifully over a low jump. At Sayid’s sharp instruction, Nadja guided the young stallion to a halt, and in the same instant, a turn on his hindquarters. Then the pair charged toward a barrel containing a few wooden practice swords. She only just missed snagging one, and instead knocked the whole barrel over with a loud crash. Artemis jumped sideways, avoiding the swords as they skittered across the sand, then collected again and slowed, stopping near Sayid, who had his arms crossed over his chest. He scolded Nadja in a terse but quiet tone, and the young queen’s face reddened, but she held her tongue as she guided Artemis along the perimeter of the fence while Sayid set the barrel upright again. Vear grunted, then turned to lean his back against the fence,
“A strange one, that stallion.”
“Indeed.” Edmund kept observing the queen’s practice. After a moment Vear cleared his throat,
“Ever find it strange that he looks so young? He doesn’t seem to age the same as a normal horse. It’s been…what? Nearly twenty years?”
“I noticed.” Edmund said in a flat tone.
“And the queen…?”
“What about her?” Edmund narrowed his eyes at Vear, “What are you getting at, Beast Master?”
Vear picked at his fingernails, “Well, have ye noticed anything strange about her as well?”
Edmund sighed, “If you are referring to the God’s Touch, no. She does not display the same…abilities as the late queen. She has basic magic and sorcery, sure. But as far as her mother’s communion with the Gods, I have not witnessed any events.”
“So then the late queen may have removed the curse.”
“Perhaps.” Edmund’s eyes followed the queen as her and Artemis repeated the same maneuver as before, only this time Nadja was successful in drawing a practice sword. She sliced it through a melon on a pole with a grunt. “That is why it will do her well to know how to fight, should Vramien return. If she doesn’t have the God’s Touch, I don’t know how the kingdom will survive it this time.”
Vear shook his head, “Edmund, ye worry too much. Our kingdom will be fine. It is days from Queen Nadja’s coronation, a glorious day for the kingdom. A glorious day for ye to retire from running it. Ye should look forward to the positives, my friend.”
***
Nadja leaned against the sill of the tower window, her chin propped up in her palm. Below her, the castle grounds were festooned in colors of purple, cream, and gold, the royal colors out in full flush in preparation for her coronation. Servants, Grooms, and other castle staff rushed back and forth in the courtyard, putting the finishing touches on the castle decor. Lining the path she would ride later that afternoon with sturdy posts and a temporary fence, also decorated lavishly with the royal colors. As she mounted Artemis and rode down the path with her retinue, guards would take up their posts, ensuring her safety.
She could see Royal Stable from her window as well, with the Generals being prepared for the parade. Some were already saddled and waiting, others being scrubbed and polished until their coats gleamed.
Further down the main thoroughfare, out amongst the caste town, the faint babble of voices and music drifted up to her. She knew her people were caught up in their own celebrations of the day. Secretly, she wished she could join them. But, duty called her. She was a royal, after all. Nadja glanced over her shoulder as the door behind her creaked open, then sighed when her handmaid stepped in, and straightened. Mina placed her hands on her hips and scoffed,
“Your majesty – you are going to stain your gown leaning on the window like that!”
“I was only watching the festivities in my honor. I swept off the windowsill first.”
Nadja willingly submitted as Mina lifted her arm, inspecting the sleeves of her gold-brocaded purple gown for any sort of grime. After it passed her inspection, she was ushered toward a stool in front of a table containing all manner of hairpieces, jewelry, and tools for Mina to tame her long black hair. She only half listened as Mina fussed over her hair, jokingly telling her that it was as wild and unruly as Artemis.
When it came time to choose her jewelry, she looked over the table, then selected a pair of earrings that had a small piece of arcane crystal in each of them, contained in glass. A pair of wings wrapped around the glass container on each. She chose bracelets that carried the insignia of the noble families, as a nod to their patronage. Mina wholeheartedly agreed with her choice, muttering something about how it was a noble thing for her to do. She didn’t pay much heed to it. Her mind was out racing the clouds, flying Artemis over the land, exploring her kingdom. No royal duties, no responsibilities, just peace and quiet on a mountaintop with her loyal companion. The wilds called to her like a comforting embrace. She felt pulled to them, something within her stirring, a familiar feeling, it felt like home.
She was dragged out of her thoughts by Mina’s hand on her shoulder,
“Your majesty, what necklace will you be wearing?”
Nadja sighed, then looked over the assortment in front of her. After a moment, she sat back, “What about the jewels I had commissioned? I had hoped to wear those.”
“I sent word this morning to the jeweler, and he said that he would send a boy with them when they were completed. It looks as if they haven't–” As she spoke, a knock came to the door, then it opened and a boy jogged in, a small, locked box clutched tightly to his chest. He saw Nadja, then hurriedly bowed, thrusting the box out in front of him. Mina took it from him, and Nadja nodded when he glanced up at her, releasing him. She reflexively patted her hip where her coin purse normally sat, then sighed when she remembered her gown.
“Mina, go grab the boy a few gold coins for his rushed delivery – he’s earned it.” She gestured at the shelf nearby, where her coin purse sat. Mina set the box gingerly on the table, then made for the shelf, the boy’s face reddened,
“Your majesty I-”
“Oh please, take it! You’ve earned it. Get yourself something nice, as a token of my thanks.” Nadja smiled at the boy, who returned her smile with a boyish grin and a bow,
“Thank ye!” He gave her another bow, this one with a flourish, then accepted the handful of coin from Mina and jogged out the door.
Nadja turned her attention to the box, gently picking it up from the table and setting it in her lap. She opened it, then smiled broadly. Inside was a white gold necklace with eight gemstones easily the size of a gold coin – one representing each of the continents and the Lost Kingdom. In the center was a small vial, no larger than her thumb, secured with white gold lattice to the center of the necklace. She knew that inside that vial was her birthright, the gift left to her at her mother’s passing. She had worn it since she was a child on a fine silver chain, but now it was the centerpiece of this grand necklace. The centerpiece of their kingdom, really. A queen’s sacrifice for her people. Yes, this is what she would wear for her coronation, it meant the world to her. She passed the box to Mina, sniffling and dabbing at her eye with a nearby handkerchief,
“That’s what I’ll wear, Mina.”
It seemed like hours later when Mina had finally finished primping, preening, and painting Nadja’s face, and ensuring that her gown had every golden stitch and bead in its place. Her hair was pulled up into an intricate braided updo, with gold and purple gemstones woven into it to match the intricate gold embroidery on her royal purple gown. The neckline was modest, and it fit her snugly through the waist before falling in loose pleats to the floor. It had light cream trim, and a matching cream petticoat. The sleeves were long and fitted to her arms, covering them completely. She looked at herself in a mirror as she stood, looking herself over. From this view, she could see the patterns in the embroidery – little bits and pieces of flora from all the continents. It was a beautiful gown, but she felt so awkward and out of place in it, even if she had to admit that she looked both elegant and regal. She managed a smile, meeting Mina’s eyes in the mirror,
“You did well.”
Mina giggled, “Thank you, your majesty.”
“Alright, well. Let’s go meet Edmund. He’s probably nervously pacing the council room waiting for us.”
Nadja offered her arm, and Mina took it. The pair descended from her rooms, following the quiet servants’ passages toward the council rooms, rather than the busy main hallways. When they at last arrived at the council chambers, Edmund spun to face the door, standing upright, shoulders tensed, jaw clenched. He visibly relaxed when he saw the pair, then smiled faintly, giving Nadja a bow.
“If it weren’t for the black hair, I’d say you look just like her.”
“I feel just like her at least…” She saw Mina step from the room out of the corner of her eye, it was only then that Nadja sighed, sinking into a nearby chair, “I don’t think I’m ready to lead the kingdom.”
Edmund sat next to her, “Child, we are never ready. But it is what you were born to do.”
“I can’t help but feel –” Nadja paused, “What if – Vramien returns? What then?”
“We haven’t seen any sign of him. You have also never dealt with…episodes like your mother. I truly think that the threat is neutralized for now. Nadja, it is a glorious day for the kingdom, do not be worried about a threat. It’s your coronation day!”
“Sayid – father, he’s been worried. He has seen the corruption still spreading on his patrols. I hardly think that means the threat is over. I just wish we knew how to stop it all.”
“In time. For today, worry about the coronation. Putting on a brave face for your people. Showing them that their Queen is ready to lead them. I have raised you with all of the knowledge I had, and all the wisdom I’ve learned over the years. You’ve learned your realm’s history extensively, and have blossomed into a true royal. I have faith you will lead your people just as well as your mother once did.”
***
Edmund left the hall first, striding across the grand entrance toward the end of the throne room. Nadja remained with her attendants and the holders of her crown and cloak. Pews had been brought in, and various nobles and their extended families waited inside. They had been murmuring, but fell silent at Edmund’s appearance, shifting in their seats. His bootfalls were muffled by the pale purple rug at his feet, and the air grew tense with anticipation at each confident step he took forward. Nadja took a deep breath to steady herself as she found herself growing tense as well, then forced her shoulders to relax.
Instead, she focused on the grandeur of the room beyond. Tapestries hung between white marble columns, depicting various scenes of battle, Nordanners fighting dragons. Other tapestries represented key moments in history – the portal from Skagenrak so long ago on one, the ships fleeing The Lost Kingdom on another. At the base of each column, fresh flowers sat within tall vases on golden, gem-encrusted pedestals. Each column had a different array of flowers, representing the different continents. There was one empty vase though, the closest to the throne, which she knew represented The Lost Kingdom. The throne itself was a marvel, sitting alone on the raised dais in front of a gold-paned glass window overlooking the courtyard. It was carved from stone which had veins of arcane magic running through it, and had a high back which contained a large arcane crystal in the center. To either side, large gemstones of all varieties decorated it, beautifully complementing the depictions of the power of the three Gods, Barachiel, Tulia, and Vahnex.
At last, Edmund reached the dias, and turned on his heel.
“Gathered nobles of Kisarana, it has been my honor to serve you as Regent these past years. Under my rule, we have settled old differences, faced pains as a growing kingdom, and in the end have grown together. As you know, during this time, I have taken young Nadja under my wing, dutifully raising her to eventually take my place as is her birthright. You too have watched her grow into the young royal she is today. Now, we gather to welcome her as our Queen. I present her to you as such, Queen Nadja.”
Edmund held out his hand toward her, and Nadja let out a breath, then strode forward several steps, reminding herself to stand tall, proud, just as she had rehearsed. She stopped once she had gone forward several feet, then curtsied as deeply as she could gracefully manage, holding it for a long moment before rising again, but keeping her head bowed. After a moment, Edmund spoke,
“Nadja, do you swear to serve your people, protect the realm from threats within and without, and to preserve the histories of our people for future generations – passing them to your heirs and successors?”
She raised her head, meeting his gaze, “I swear to serve my people, protect the realm from threats within and without, and preserve the histories of my people for future generations. I swear to pass these histories onto my heirs and successors, once they come to be.”
Edmund gave her a curt nod, then slowly lowered himself on one knee, bowing his head, “Then I, Edmund, do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Nadja, her heirs and successors. I will protect them from threats within and without, and provide guidance when they require it. I hereby hand over my title as Regent, and pronounce you Queen.”
He rose slowly, with some difficulty, then stepped to the side, near the edge of the dias. Nadja stood where she was, waiting as the attendants stepped forward, unfurling the long cape as they approached. She heard gasps and mutters from the crowd as they did, and knew full well why. It was incredibly long, and made of a fine royal purple velvet much like her gown. It was also lined with a fine, soft white fur, save for the shoulders, which had guards carefully constructed from a kaleidoscope of dragon scales, with small pieces of arcane shards on the collar. Small pieces of glowing gemstones were sewn along the grand golden pattern that rimmed the purple velvet of the cape, matched to the different species of dragons and monstrosities depicted within the intricate stitching. They flowed from her shoulders across the cape behind her, poised in battle, or standing proud in their positions on the fabric.
As the attendant approached with her crown atop a royal purple pillow, she bowed her head again, accepting it. It too matched her outfit, but was simple in comparison. It was taller in the front, an intricate lattice sloping down to a simple band behind her head, and contained diamonds and purple gemstones. It was heavier than she expected, and she was glad for how her hair was bound up to support the weight. She straightened, then proceeded forward, her attendants taking up the cape behind her, holding it up off the floor to support the weight. It was a slow process, and she felt nervous and excited all at once as the dias slowly came closer with every step.
As Nadja finally stepped up onto the dias, she felt the familiar stirring like a breeze in the back of her mind. The stirring of destiny, or so that is what The Librarian had so often told her. She stepped up to the throne, then turned to face her people.
“May the Gods bless Queen Nadja!” Edmund called out.
His call was answered in turn by the gathered nobles all at once, their voices echoing until the room at last fell into silence. Only then was she allowed to seat herself on the throne.
No sooner was she seated on the throne, than the stirring at the back of her mind became a rush. With it, the air in the room stirred, then came to life, buffeting the guests, tugging a few tendrils of her hair free from their bounds. The broad doors across from her resisted, then slammed open, a stronger gust tearing into the room and drawing concerned murmurs from the gathered Kisarnan nobles. A whirlwind of sand and dust exploded through the door, then slowed and settled, revealing an equine form standing in the doorway. A brilliant gold-colored mare, who bore dust clouds instead of a mane and tail. Fine golden chains and coins adorned her body, and she also bore a sash of roses. Her chains clinked softly as she strode forward, the wind in the room settling as she approached the throne. Nadja sat awestruck for a moment, then bowed her head,
“Tulia.”
“Daughter of the cursed. Nadja.” The mare did not bow her head to Nadja. She was a Goddess, after all. At her words, Nadja felt the stirring in her mind again, “I come to bring you a blessing. In exchange for your oath that you will use my blessing in order to keep the realm free and wild.”
Nadja’s hand lifted to the necklace at her throat, touching the vial of her mother’s blood. A part of her resisted, but something else deep within her stirred. She knew that this was a call to action. Her true birthright. She swallowed, then looked up at Tulia, “For the vast lands filled with wilds, I am compelled to accept.”
Tulia stepped forward, stretching her graceful neck forward until her nose nearly touched Nadja’s, “Then accept my blessing. The ability to feel a connection to the earth, and the lands upon which you rule.” She exhaled, blowing a warm breath across Nadja’s cheeks. With it, came the dizzying feeling of soaring above the clouds over a pine forest, the sharp smell of the pines in her nose, the wind rushing in her ears. As her vision faded back to reality in front of her, Tulia was gone. There was no trace of her left behind, as if she had never been there.
No sooner had she gone, than the sound of water trickling filled the silence in the hall, then a bright flash drew murmurs. Nadja blinked, clearing her vision. Before her, in the doorway stood a black stallion, whose mane and tail appeared to be made of moonlight, which also danced across his coat. He wore a gleaming armored faceplate bearing white feather plumes, which swayed as he approached. Nadja swallowed, then bowed her head,
“Barachiel.”
“Child of magic, Nadja.” His deep voice boomed in the hall as he stood before her. He too, did not bow, for he was a god. “Like my sister, I come bearing a blessing. In exchange, I would like your oath that you will become a kind and fair ruler, who protects not only humankind, but also the equines of this realm.”
Nadja realized she was holding her breath, and let it out. Not only had one of the Gods appeared, but now two. This time she didn’t hesitate in accepting, “I swear to become a ruler worthy of your praise.”
Barachiel tossed his head, then reared, his voice booming around them, “Then accept my blessing, the God’s Sight. May it give you strength.”
He vanished with a flash, but instead of the brightness, Nadja instead saw the image of a land she didn’t recognize. It was blackened, and scarred with veins of purple which pulsed and glowed. She felt the tickle in the back of her mind that she had felt with Tulia, then, and the smell of decay assaulted her nose, making her choke. It faded as quickly as it had come, and she sensed a third presence. It was distant, but approaching rapidly. She heard the galloping hoofbeats like drums in her mind, growing louder. At first, a colored mist stole into the room, then clouds of nebulous gas poured into the room, obscuring the doorway. The galloping hoofbeats were loud in her ears now, drowning out the sound of her racing heartbeat. The hoofbeats slowed, then another black stallion stepped from the nebulae. His mane and tail trailed behind him, as smoke-like and wispy as the cloud he stepped from. Stars dotted his coat, which seemed alive with energy that thrummed in the room.
“Vahnex.” Nadja’s voice was a whisper, but he still heard her.
“Bearer of bloodline, Nadja.” Vahnex’s voice was calm, cool, comforting. As timeless as the stars themselves. “Like my siblings, I also bring you a blessing in exchange for your oath. What I require is the hardest of what we ask of you. I would not blame you if you could not accept, but the fate of your people and mine rests on your acceptance.” He stopped in front of Nadja, his front hooves on the dias in front of her. Tendrils of smoke-like nebulae poured off of him, gathering in a pool below him. “For your oath, I would like your promise that you are willing to give your life, should it be required in order to cleanse the realm of corruption. In exchange, I would give you the blessing your mother once bore, the God’s Touch.”
Nadja sat in silence for a few moments, then stood, slowly approaching the nebulous stallion. He let her approach, his gaze unwavering. When she drew near, she dropped into a deep cursty,
“I accept your blessing, and I give my oath.”
Edmund stepped forward reflexively, stopping after only a single step, “Nadja!”
She glanced at him, “I must do this. For our people. For our lands. You know I must.” She turned back to Vahnex, “I am willing to do whatever I must, in order to save both of our peoples. Even if it means my life.”
Vahnex let out a soft snort, then reached forward, touching his muzzle to her forehead, “Then accept my blessing. The God’s Touch is yours. Use it wisely, as it is a great power.”
This time, there were no visions as the blessing was given to her. Instead, she felt something stirring within herself, like a well being filled with water. It thrummed with power, and she felt it growing as Vahnex turned, and with a toss of his head trotted back into the nebulae at the door. It withdrew as he vanished, leaving the hall in silence. The stunned nobles sat frozen in their seats, staring at her, many with mouths agape. Not only had the Gods appeared to her, but they had appeared to all of them, and had given her blessings, had spoken to her. She slowly straightened, then backed to the throne, slowly seating herself. She too was numb, in shock from the suddenness of what had just occurred. She and her people both sat in stunned silence.
It was interrupted by a woman’s gasp. Nadja looked up as she started whispering incoherently, in panic. She found the woman as she got to her feet, stumbling back as she pointed,
“Look! Oh Look! What is that!”
Nadja’s gaze followed where the woman was pointing, at a nearby column. At the vase which represented the lost kingdom. Dark smoke was billowing from it, pouring over the floor. Within it, flashes of purple light flashed. The smoke grew thicker, pooling at the base of the pedestal, then spilling across the floor, covering it as it raced toward the dais. Edmund stepped forward, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. The smoke stopped approaching, instead pooling in front of the dias. It seemed alive, roiling and growing as it raised upward, something solid within it just out of their view. Whispers filled the hall, then faint screams, then maniacal laughter echoed off the walls. It grated on their ears, loud and booming.
Nadja lifted her chin, but gripped the arms of her throne. She refused to flinch as a loud crack came form the smoke, making the nobles cower. She would not cower. She would not be scared. She knew that now. She could feel the power that the Gods had granted her, giving her strength, guiding her. She knew who this was, and what his presence meant.
Edmund partially drew his sword, moving to step in front of Nadja.
“Vramien.”
There was another crack, then a bright purple flash, and the smoke fell to the floor, seeming to shiver as the form emerged more clearly. A form that was almost equine, but primarily still made of smoke. Where the head should have been, though, was a horse’s skull, the sockets glowing a deep purple. The skull tilted toward Edmund, and the booming voice sounded again, but unlike the Gods this voice seemed unstable, insane,
“I want nothing to do with you, puny soldier. This is between me and your Queen.” He drew out the word Queen until it became a hiss, the jaw of the skull moving with his words. When Edmund didn’t move, the figure stomped a shadowy hoof with a roar, and an impact shook the air, sending Edmund tumbling back. He did not rise. The skull lowered, then tilted to the side, one glowing eye observing her,
“You have been given the God’s Touch.” His words slithered around the room, malevolent as they seemed to crawl across her skin, “You also have something that is mine. Something that is owed me…” The shadowy figure paced the dais, the glowing purple eye following her, “But the Gods, the Gods wish to meddle in ancient prophecy.” A maniacal laugh echoed around the room again, “Fools!”
Nadja flexed her jaw, then got to her feet, linking her hands in front of her. She would not cower, she reminded herself. “What is it you want, Vramien?”
“I want what is owed to me!” The skull snaked around on a shadowy neck, snapping its teeth at her.
Nadja felt the well of power given to her by Vahnex stirring within her again. She didn’t know how to use it, but she knew it was there, and it was a comfort at least as she faced the beast in front of her. When she didn’t respond, Vramien rounded on her, charging forward,
“I will take what is mine!”
“No!” Nadja lifted her arm, and a burst of light came from her, the well of power uncurling from her in a bright flash. Vramien vanished, then reformed at the foot of the dais again, standing still and eyeing her with one glowing eye. She stumbled back, looking at her hand in shock.
After a moment, a deep rumble came from Vramien. The castle trembled with his rage as it rose to a roar, the ground moving beneath their feet. Then, all at once it subsided. The smoke started to withdraw back to the vase it had come from, eventually leaving only a thin trail attached to the skull.
“I will make you regret your defiance on this day.”
There was a crack, then a flash, and Vramien was gone.
“The girl is a natural.” Vear said as he grunted and swayed, relying heavily on his staff as he approached. The Regent and the Beast Master shared a brief greeting, then Vear leaned heavily on the arena fence. The young Nadja – soon to be Queen Nadja, sat astride the bay-and-white royal stallion Artemis, and was guiding him through a set of obstacles set in place by her father Sayid. The stallion was known for being difficult, and had thrown plenty of other riders during his training, but seemed perfectly content to follow the young Queen’s directions. Edmund made a sound in the back of his throat in agreement, then nodded,
“She is indeed, and it seems Artemis has just as much fondness for our Queen as her people.”
“Still salty from him dumping ye last week during flight training Edmund?”
The graying regent gritted his teeth, “I had Jemima as backup. She managed to break my fall.”
Vear let out a raspy laugh, drawing a look from the Queen and Artemis as they passed. The stallion pinned his ears, but stayed his course, carrying his rider dutifully over a low jump. At Sayid’s sharp instruction, Nadja guided the young stallion to a halt, and in the same instant, a turn on his hindquarters. Then the pair charged toward a barrel containing a few wooden practice swords. She only just missed snagging one, and instead knocked the whole barrel over with a loud crash. Artemis jumped sideways, avoiding the swords as they skittered across the sand, then collected again and slowed, stopping near Sayid, who had his arms crossed over his chest. He scolded Nadja in a terse but quiet tone, and the young queen’s face reddened, but she held her tongue as she guided Artemis along the perimeter of the fence while Sayid set the barrel upright again. Vear grunted, then turned to lean his back against the fence,
“A strange one, that stallion.”
“Indeed.” Edmund kept observing the queen’s practice. After a moment Vear cleared his throat,
“Ever find it strange that he looks so young? He doesn’t seem to age the same as a normal horse. It’s been…what? Nearly twenty years?”
“I noticed.” Edmund said in a flat tone.
“And the queen…?”
“What about her?” Edmund narrowed his eyes at Vear, “What are you getting at, Beast Master?”
Vear picked at his fingernails, “Well, have ye noticed anything strange about her as well?”
Edmund sighed, “If you are referring to the God’s Touch, no. She does not display the same…abilities as the late queen. She has basic magic and sorcery, sure. But as far as her mother’s communion with the Gods, I have not witnessed any events.”
“So then the late queen may have removed the curse.”
“Perhaps.” Edmund’s eyes followed the queen as her and Artemis repeated the same maneuver as before, only this time Nadja was successful in drawing a practice sword. She sliced it through a melon on a pole with a grunt. “That is why it will do her well to know how to fight, should Vramien return. If she doesn’t have the God’s Touch, I don’t know how the kingdom will survive it this time.”
Vear shook his head, “Edmund, ye worry too much. Our kingdom will be fine. It is days from Queen Nadja’s coronation, a glorious day for the kingdom. A glorious day for ye to retire from running it. Ye should look forward to the positives, my friend.”
***
Nadja leaned against the sill of the tower window, her chin propped up in her palm. Below her, the castle grounds were festooned in colors of purple, cream, and gold, the royal colors out in full flush in preparation for her coronation. Servants, Grooms, and other castle staff rushed back and forth in the courtyard, putting the finishing touches on the castle decor. Lining the path she would ride later that afternoon with sturdy posts and a temporary fence, also decorated lavishly with the royal colors. As she mounted Artemis and rode down the path with her retinue, guards would take up their posts, ensuring her safety.
She could see Royal Stable from her window as well, with the Generals being prepared for the parade. Some were already saddled and waiting, others being scrubbed and polished until their coats gleamed.
Further down the main thoroughfare, out amongst the caste town, the faint babble of voices and music drifted up to her. She knew her people were caught up in their own celebrations of the day. Secretly, she wished she could join them. But, duty called her. She was a royal, after all. Nadja glanced over her shoulder as the door behind her creaked open, then sighed when her handmaid stepped in, and straightened. Mina placed her hands on her hips and scoffed,
“Your majesty – you are going to stain your gown leaning on the window like that!”
“I was only watching the festivities in my honor. I swept off the windowsill first.”
Nadja willingly submitted as Mina lifted her arm, inspecting the sleeves of her gold-brocaded purple gown for any sort of grime. After it passed her inspection, she was ushered toward a stool in front of a table containing all manner of hairpieces, jewelry, and tools for Mina to tame her long black hair. She only half listened as Mina fussed over her hair, jokingly telling her that it was as wild and unruly as Artemis.
When it came time to choose her jewelry, she looked over the table, then selected a pair of earrings that had a small piece of arcane crystal in each of them, contained in glass. A pair of wings wrapped around the glass container on each. She chose bracelets that carried the insignia of the noble families, as a nod to their patronage. Mina wholeheartedly agreed with her choice, muttering something about how it was a noble thing for her to do. She didn’t pay much heed to it. Her mind was out racing the clouds, flying Artemis over the land, exploring her kingdom. No royal duties, no responsibilities, just peace and quiet on a mountaintop with her loyal companion. The wilds called to her like a comforting embrace. She felt pulled to them, something within her stirring, a familiar feeling, it felt like home.
She was dragged out of her thoughts by Mina’s hand on her shoulder,
“Your majesty, what necklace will you be wearing?”
Nadja sighed, then looked over the assortment in front of her. After a moment, she sat back, “What about the jewels I had commissioned? I had hoped to wear those.”
“I sent word this morning to the jeweler, and he said that he would send a boy with them when they were completed. It looks as if they haven't–” As she spoke, a knock came to the door, then it opened and a boy jogged in, a small, locked box clutched tightly to his chest. He saw Nadja, then hurriedly bowed, thrusting the box out in front of him. Mina took it from him, and Nadja nodded when he glanced up at her, releasing him. She reflexively patted her hip where her coin purse normally sat, then sighed when she remembered her gown.
“Mina, go grab the boy a few gold coins for his rushed delivery – he’s earned it.” She gestured at the shelf nearby, where her coin purse sat. Mina set the box gingerly on the table, then made for the shelf, the boy’s face reddened,
“Your majesty I-”
“Oh please, take it! You’ve earned it. Get yourself something nice, as a token of my thanks.” Nadja smiled at the boy, who returned her smile with a boyish grin and a bow,
“Thank ye!” He gave her another bow, this one with a flourish, then accepted the handful of coin from Mina and jogged out the door.
Nadja turned her attention to the box, gently picking it up from the table and setting it in her lap. She opened it, then smiled broadly. Inside was a white gold necklace with eight gemstones easily the size of a gold coin – one representing each of the continents and the Lost Kingdom. In the center was a small vial, no larger than her thumb, secured with white gold lattice to the center of the necklace. She knew that inside that vial was her birthright, the gift left to her at her mother’s passing. She had worn it since she was a child on a fine silver chain, but now it was the centerpiece of this grand necklace. The centerpiece of their kingdom, really. A queen’s sacrifice for her people. Yes, this is what she would wear for her coronation, it meant the world to her. She passed the box to Mina, sniffling and dabbing at her eye with a nearby handkerchief,
“That’s what I’ll wear, Mina.”
It seemed like hours later when Mina had finally finished primping, preening, and painting Nadja’s face, and ensuring that her gown had every golden stitch and bead in its place. Her hair was pulled up into an intricate braided updo, with gold and purple gemstones woven into it to match the intricate gold embroidery on her royal purple gown. The neckline was modest, and it fit her snugly through the waist before falling in loose pleats to the floor. It had light cream trim, and a matching cream petticoat. The sleeves were long and fitted to her arms, covering them completely. She looked at herself in a mirror as she stood, looking herself over. From this view, she could see the patterns in the embroidery – little bits and pieces of flora from all the continents. It was a beautiful gown, but she felt so awkward and out of place in it, even if she had to admit that she looked both elegant and regal. She managed a smile, meeting Mina’s eyes in the mirror,
“You did well.”
Mina giggled, “Thank you, your majesty.”
“Alright, well. Let’s go meet Edmund. He’s probably nervously pacing the council room waiting for us.”
Nadja offered her arm, and Mina took it. The pair descended from her rooms, following the quiet servants’ passages toward the council rooms, rather than the busy main hallways. When they at last arrived at the council chambers, Edmund spun to face the door, standing upright, shoulders tensed, jaw clenched. He visibly relaxed when he saw the pair, then smiled faintly, giving Nadja a bow.
“If it weren’t for the black hair, I’d say you look just like her.”
“I feel just like her at least…” She saw Mina step from the room out of the corner of her eye, it was only then that Nadja sighed, sinking into a nearby chair, “I don’t think I’m ready to lead the kingdom.”
Edmund sat next to her, “Child, we are never ready. But it is what you were born to do.”
“I can’t help but feel –” Nadja paused, “What if – Vramien returns? What then?”
“We haven’t seen any sign of him. You have also never dealt with…episodes like your mother. I truly think that the threat is neutralized for now. Nadja, it is a glorious day for the kingdom, do not be worried about a threat. It’s your coronation day!”
“Sayid – father, he’s been worried. He has seen the corruption still spreading on his patrols. I hardly think that means the threat is over. I just wish we knew how to stop it all.”
“In time. For today, worry about the coronation. Putting on a brave face for your people. Showing them that their Queen is ready to lead them. I have raised you with all of the knowledge I had, and all the wisdom I’ve learned over the years. You’ve learned your realm’s history extensively, and have blossomed into a true royal. I have faith you will lead your people just as well as your mother once did.”
***
Edmund left the hall first, striding across the grand entrance toward the end of the throne room. Nadja remained with her attendants and the holders of her crown and cloak. Pews had been brought in, and various nobles and their extended families waited inside. They had been murmuring, but fell silent at Edmund’s appearance, shifting in their seats. His bootfalls were muffled by the pale purple rug at his feet, and the air grew tense with anticipation at each confident step he took forward. Nadja took a deep breath to steady herself as she found herself growing tense as well, then forced her shoulders to relax.
Instead, she focused on the grandeur of the room beyond. Tapestries hung between white marble columns, depicting various scenes of battle, Nordanners fighting dragons. Other tapestries represented key moments in history – the portal from Skagenrak so long ago on one, the ships fleeing The Lost Kingdom on another. At the base of each column, fresh flowers sat within tall vases on golden, gem-encrusted pedestals. Each column had a different array of flowers, representing the different continents. There was one empty vase though, the closest to the throne, which she knew represented The Lost Kingdom. The throne itself was a marvel, sitting alone on the raised dais in front of a gold-paned glass window overlooking the courtyard. It was carved from stone which had veins of arcane magic running through it, and had a high back which contained a large arcane crystal in the center. To either side, large gemstones of all varieties decorated it, beautifully complementing the depictions of the power of the three Gods, Barachiel, Tulia, and Vahnex.
At last, Edmund reached the dias, and turned on his heel.
“Gathered nobles of Kisarana, it has been my honor to serve you as Regent these past years. Under my rule, we have settled old differences, faced pains as a growing kingdom, and in the end have grown together. As you know, during this time, I have taken young Nadja under my wing, dutifully raising her to eventually take my place as is her birthright. You too have watched her grow into the young royal she is today. Now, we gather to welcome her as our Queen. I present her to you as such, Queen Nadja.”
Edmund held out his hand toward her, and Nadja let out a breath, then strode forward several steps, reminding herself to stand tall, proud, just as she had rehearsed. She stopped once she had gone forward several feet, then curtsied as deeply as she could gracefully manage, holding it for a long moment before rising again, but keeping her head bowed. After a moment, Edmund spoke,
“Nadja, do you swear to serve your people, protect the realm from threats within and without, and to preserve the histories of our people for future generations – passing them to your heirs and successors?”
She raised her head, meeting his gaze, “I swear to serve my people, protect the realm from threats within and without, and preserve the histories of my people for future generations. I swear to pass these histories onto my heirs and successors, once they come to be.”
Edmund gave her a curt nod, then slowly lowered himself on one knee, bowing his head, “Then I, Edmund, do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Nadja, her heirs and successors. I will protect them from threats within and without, and provide guidance when they require it. I hereby hand over my title as Regent, and pronounce you Queen.”
He rose slowly, with some difficulty, then stepped to the side, near the edge of the dias. Nadja stood where she was, waiting as the attendants stepped forward, unfurling the long cape as they approached. She heard gasps and mutters from the crowd as they did, and knew full well why. It was incredibly long, and made of a fine royal purple velvet much like her gown. It was also lined with a fine, soft white fur, save for the shoulders, which had guards carefully constructed from a kaleidoscope of dragon scales, with small pieces of arcane shards on the collar. Small pieces of glowing gemstones were sewn along the grand golden pattern that rimmed the purple velvet of the cape, matched to the different species of dragons and monstrosities depicted within the intricate stitching. They flowed from her shoulders across the cape behind her, poised in battle, or standing proud in their positions on the fabric.
As the attendant approached with her crown atop a royal purple pillow, she bowed her head again, accepting it. It too matched her outfit, but was simple in comparison. It was taller in the front, an intricate lattice sloping down to a simple band behind her head, and contained diamonds and purple gemstones. It was heavier than she expected, and she was glad for how her hair was bound up to support the weight. She straightened, then proceeded forward, her attendants taking up the cape behind her, holding it up off the floor to support the weight. It was a slow process, and she felt nervous and excited all at once as the dias slowly came closer with every step.
As Nadja finally stepped up onto the dias, she felt the familiar stirring like a breeze in the back of her mind. The stirring of destiny, or so that is what The Librarian had so often told her. She stepped up to the throne, then turned to face her people.
“May the Gods bless Queen Nadja!” Edmund called out.
His call was answered in turn by the gathered nobles all at once, their voices echoing until the room at last fell into silence. Only then was she allowed to seat herself on the throne.
No sooner was she seated on the throne, than the stirring at the back of her mind became a rush. With it, the air in the room stirred, then came to life, buffeting the guests, tugging a few tendrils of her hair free from their bounds. The broad doors across from her resisted, then slammed open, a stronger gust tearing into the room and drawing concerned murmurs from the gathered Kisarnan nobles. A whirlwind of sand and dust exploded through the door, then slowed and settled, revealing an equine form standing in the doorway. A brilliant gold-colored mare, who bore dust clouds instead of a mane and tail. Fine golden chains and coins adorned her body, and she also bore a sash of roses. Her chains clinked softly as she strode forward, the wind in the room settling as she approached the throne. Nadja sat awestruck for a moment, then bowed her head,
“Tulia.”
“Daughter of the cursed. Nadja.” The mare did not bow her head to Nadja. She was a Goddess, after all. At her words, Nadja felt the stirring in her mind again, “I come to bring you a blessing. In exchange for your oath that you will use my blessing in order to keep the realm free and wild.”
Nadja’s hand lifted to the necklace at her throat, touching the vial of her mother’s blood. A part of her resisted, but something else deep within her stirred. She knew that this was a call to action. Her true birthright. She swallowed, then looked up at Tulia, “For the vast lands filled with wilds, I am compelled to accept.”
Tulia stepped forward, stretching her graceful neck forward until her nose nearly touched Nadja’s, “Then accept my blessing. The ability to feel a connection to the earth, and the lands upon which you rule.” She exhaled, blowing a warm breath across Nadja’s cheeks. With it, came the dizzying feeling of soaring above the clouds over a pine forest, the sharp smell of the pines in her nose, the wind rushing in her ears. As her vision faded back to reality in front of her, Tulia was gone. There was no trace of her left behind, as if she had never been there.
No sooner had she gone, than the sound of water trickling filled the silence in the hall, then a bright flash drew murmurs. Nadja blinked, clearing her vision. Before her, in the doorway stood a black stallion, whose mane and tail appeared to be made of moonlight, which also danced across his coat. He wore a gleaming armored faceplate bearing white feather plumes, which swayed as he approached. Nadja swallowed, then bowed her head,
“Barachiel.”
“Child of magic, Nadja.” His deep voice boomed in the hall as he stood before her. He too, did not bow, for he was a god. “Like my sister, I come bearing a blessing. In exchange, I would like your oath that you will become a kind and fair ruler, who protects not only humankind, but also the equines of this realm.”
Nadja realized she was holding her breath, and let it out. Not only had one of the Gods appeared, but now two. This time she didn’t hesitate in accepting, “I swear to become a ruler worthy of your praise.”
Barachiel tossed his head, then reared, his voice booming around them, “Then accept my blessing, the God’s Sight. May it give you strength.”
He vanished with a flash, but instead of the brightness, Nadja instead saw the image of a land she didn’t recognize. It was blackened, and scarred with veins of purple which pulsed and glowed. She felt the tickle in the back of her mind that she had felt with Tulia, then, and the smell of decay assaulted her nose, making her choke. It faded as quickly as it had come, and she sensed a third presence. It was distant, but approaching rapidly. She heard the galloping hoofbeats like drums in her mind, growing louder. At first, a colored mist stole into the room, then clouds of nebulous gas poured into the room, obscuring the doorway. The galloping hoofbeats were loud in her ears now, drowning out the sound of her racing heartbeat. The hoofbeats slowed, then another black stallion stepped from the nebulae. His mane and tail trailed behind him, as smoke-like and wispy as the cloud he stepped from. Stars dotted his coat, which seemed alive with energy that thrummed in the room.
“Vahnex.” Nadja’s voice was a whisper, but he still heard her.
“Bearer of bloodline, Nadja.” Vahnex’s voice was calm, cool, comforting. As timeless as the stars themselves. “Like my siblings, I also bring you a blessing in exchange for your oath. What I require is the hardest of what we ask of you. I would not blame you if you could not accept, but the fate of your people and mine rests on your acceptance.” He stopped in front of Nadja, his front hooves on the dias in front of her. Tendrils of smoke-like nebulae poured off of him, gathering in a pool below him. “For your oath, I would like your promise that you are willing to give your life, should it be required in order to cleanse the realm of corruption. In exchange, I would give you the blessing your mother once bore, the God’s Touch.”
Nadja sat in silence for a few moments, then stood, slowly approaching the nebulous stallion. He let her approach, his gaze unwavering. When she drew near, she dropped into a deep cursty,
“I accept your blessing, and I give my oath.”
Edmund stepped forward reflexively, stopping after only a single step, “Nadja!”
She glanced at him, “I must do this. For our people. For our lands. You know I must.” She turned back to Vahnex, “I am willing to do whatever I must, in order to save both of our peoples. Even if it means my life.”
Vahnex let out a soft snort, then reached forward, touching his muzzle to her forehead, “Then accept my blessing. The God’s Touch is yours. Use it wisely, as it is a great power.”
This time, there were no visions as the blessing was given to her. Instead, she felt something stirring within herself, like a well being filled with water. It thrummed with power, and she felt it growing as Vahnex turned, and with a toss of his head trotted back into the nebulae at the door. It withdrew as he vanished, leaving the hall in silence. The stunned nobles sat frozen in their seats, staring at her, many with mouths agape. Not only had the Gods appeared to her, but they had appeared to all of them, and had given her blessings, had spoken to her. She slowly straightened, then backed to the throne, slowly seating herself. She too was numb, in shock from the suddenness of what had just occurred. She and her people both sat in stunned silence.
It was interrupted by a woman’s gasp. Nadja looked up as she started whispering incoherently, in panic. She found the woman as she got to her feet, stumbling back as she pointed,
“Look! Oh Look! What is that!”
Nadja’s gaze followed where the woman was pointing, at a nearby column. At the vase which represented the lost kingdom. Dark smoke was billowing from it, pouring over the floor. Within it, flashes of purple light flashed. The smoke grew thicker, pooling at the base of the pedestal, then spilling across the floor, covering it as it raced toward the dais. Edmund stepped forward, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. The smoke stopped approaching, instead pooling in front of the dias. It seemed alive, roiling and growing as it raised upward, something solid within it just out of their view. Whispers filled the hall, then faint screams, then maniacal laughter echoed off the walls. It grated on their ears, loud and booming.
Nadja lifted her chin, but gripped the arms of her throne. She refused to flinch as a loud crack came form the smoke, making the nobles cower. She would not cower. She would not be scared. She knew that now. She could feel the power that the Gods had granted her, giving her strength, guiding her. She knew who this was, and what his presence meant.
Edmund partially drew his sword, moving to step in front of Nadja.
“Vramien.”
There was another crack, then a bright purple flash, and the smoke fell to the floor, seeming to shiver as the form emerged more clearly. A form that was almost equine, but primarily still made of smoke. Where the head should have been, though, was a horse’s skull, the sockets glowing a deep purple. The skull tilted toward Edmund, and the booming voice sounded again, but unlike the Gods this voice seemed unstable, insane,
“I want nothing to do with you, puny soldier. This is between me and your Queen.” He drew out the word Queen until it became a hiss, the jaw of the skull moving with his words. When Edmund didn’t move, the figure stomped a shadowy hoof with a roar, and an impact shook the air, sending Edmund tumbling back. He did not rise. The skull lowered, then tilted to the side, one glowing eye observing her,
“You have been given the God’s Touch.” His words slithered around the room, malevolent as they seemed to crawl across her skin, “You also have something that is mine. Something that is owed me…” The shadowy figure paced the dais, the glowing purple eye following her, “But the Gods, the Gods wish to meddle in ancient prophecy.” A maniacal laugh echoed around the room again, “Fools!”
Nadja flexed her jaw, then got to her feet, linking her hands in front of her. She would not cower, she reminded herself. “What is it you want, Vramien?”
“I want what is owed to me!” The skull snaked around on a shadowy neck, snapping its teeth at her.
Nadja felt the well of power given to her by Vahnex stirring within her again. She didn’t know how to use it, but she knew it was there, and it was a comfort at least as she faced the beast in front of her. When she didn’t respond, Vramien rounded on her, charging forward,
“I will take what is mine!”
“No!” Nadja lifted her arm, and a burst of light came from her, the well of power uncurling from her in a bright flash. Vramien vanished, then reformed at the foot of the dais again, standing still and eyeing her with one glowing eye. She stumbled back, looking at her hand in shock.
After a moment, a deep rumble came from Vramien. The castle trembled with his rage as it rose to a roar, the ground moving beneath their feet. Then, all at once it subsided. The smoke started to withdraw back to the vase it had come from, eventually leaving only a thin trail attached to the skull.
“I will make you regret your defiance on this day.”
There was a crack, then a flash, and Vramien was gone.
Gods and Goddess
No world lore would be complete without Gods and Godesses, right?
We know not of where they came, or if they existed in the world before the arrival of Nordanners. But, we do know that without them, and without dragons, this world and its magic would not exist.
On Kisarana, there are two Gods and one Goddess, functioning in a singular unit called a triptych. However, the universe loves balance, and thus there is an anti-force to the triptych, known as the Anti-God. Read below to learn more!
We know not of where they came, or if they existed in the world before the arrival of Nordanners. But, we do know that without them, and without dragons, this world and its magic would not exist.
On Kisarana, there are two Gods and one Goddess, functioning in a singular unit called a triptych. However, the universe loves balance, and thus there is an anti-force to the triptych, known as the Anti-God. Read below to learn more!
Vahnex: The Crown of Stars
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"Where and when Vahnex began, no one knows. It's not as if the Gods deign to share such details with us, after all. We do know he is the stuff of stardust and light, dark and shadow. He rarely makes appearances on our world. When he does, you'd do well to take heed. Vahnex does nothing without a good reason."
The head of the triptych, and the purported eldest of them and ruler of the stars. He also boasts the greatest amount of raw power of all three, dwarfing the other two in comparison. His known powers are those of time, possibilities, and creation. Where others find only the darkness of space, he finds opportunity to create something new. It is rumored that it is his magic which allowed the portals to open into the current realm, but of course there is no way to confirm this as fact. What other abilities he possesses are yet unknown, and he seems to prefer that it stay that way. Despite being one of the triptych, he is largely disinterested in the affairs of mortals. With a portion of his power residing on the wheel of time, he knows roughly the path one's life may take. However, free will is his weakness -- as he cannot account for the choices that one may make in regards to their own life. The stars are his home, and that is where he spends the majority of his time. He seems to give great deference to interests that Barachiel has given his blessing to, and tolerates Tulia's presence. Overall though, he tends to keep his distance from mortals, and has very rarely influenced those mortals who posses the God's Touch, and even more rarely has made an appearance. Unless of course something has been done to rouse his ire, in which case he is a fierce opponent! |
Barachiel: The Moon Chosen
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"Ah, Vahnex's younger brother. The two of them could not be more different, and yet finding stronger love would be a tall order indeed. Barachiel has always championed for us, human and horse alike. Before they disapepared, we saw him now and again. He's got a soft heart, but make no mistake--he is a Warrior, a Knight of the highest order. He is the center. From him, we can always draw hope."
The second of the triptych, and self-proclaimed younger brother of Vahnex and ruler of the skies. He is not quite as powerful as his older brother, however his powers are more varied. He primarily deals in the realm of dreams and premonitions, giving his blessing of Sight to those with the God's Touch. However, he has also been known to resonate with water, and thus the very soul of every living thing. His powers also wax and wane with the cycles of the moon, and he has reported that his power is much weaker at times when the moon is less visible, or during the day. Due to this he rarely makes appearances when the sun is out. He is the most sociable of the triptych, having numerous appearances and encounters with human and horse alike. He is very fond of Nordanners and their humans, and seeks to protect them from harm, particularly from the Anti-God Vramien. Amongst his many legends, there is one in particular that mentions that he has allowed a human to ride him into battle, but this account is unreliable at best, and is more than likely just a myth. He is a being of the night sky, and as such spends a good majority of his time there. However, it is known when he walks the earth, as the moon seems to shine just a bit brighter in his presence. He has a preference for neither Tulia or Vahnex, and is comfortable doing what he must to protect his precious Nordanners and their humans -- even if he must do so alone. He has been known in the past to butt heads with his older brother, their power clashing hard enough to shake the sky and earth. Thankfully, these occurrences are rare. Overall, he is not as rigid as Vahnex, or as carefree as Tulia, making him the level-headed one of the triptych. |
Tulia: The Winsdwept
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"She blew in on the wind and was gone again just as quickly. Wild and free as a dandlion seed, no one could lay hands or eyes on Tulia if she didn't wish it. Now there's a wild child if you ever saw one. The youngest of them, she comes and goes as she likes. The earth is her domain...but seeing Tulia is not always a good thing."
The last of the triptych, purportedly the youngest of the three, and ruler of the earth. She is well known to represent the fickle carefree nature of the wind itself, remaining as free and wild as the day she first appeared. She is known to be curious and devious, messing with things that might be better left alone. It is never truly known whether her intentions are good, bad, or neutral. Her powers consist of tending to the earth, and bringing the breath of life to all living things. However, her magic is just as fickle as she, and will either be a help or a hindrance -- which is entirely up to her discretion. This said, she is a being of the earth. She roams the realm on a gust of wind, or in the middle of a storm, dancing across the earth with a playful gust and a faint tinkling sound accompanied by the scent of roses. She is known to reside in clouds of dust or storm fronts, and can make herself invisible at-will if she does not wish to be seen. She is not particularly fond of her brothers and their domains, and actually does not like to be amongst the sky and stars. Vahnex merely tolerates her whimsical presence, and Barchiel is the middleman between them, balancing out order and chaos. Her emotions are as predictable as the wind, so it is better to pay deference and not irk her, lest you find yourself amidst a raging storm. |
Vramien: The Anti-God
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"Whether Vramien is a result of our meddling with magic, whether he crossed with us into this realm, or whether he came to be purely out of opposition to the triptych we will never know. We do know that he embodies darkness and the corruption of magic at his very core. He is evil incarnate, and wants nothing more than to see every living creature dead."
The universe exists in balance, and where there is light there also must be darkness. Vramien exists solely in that darkness, and his purpose is to absorb and corrupt magic. He rules over the shadow in us all, and appears to have connections to the underworld. It is not entirely known whether or not he crossed over during the first mass-exodus, or came about as a natural consequence of magic's existence itself. How much power he possesses is also not known. We only know what has been dutifully recorded thus far. He originally appeared as a sort of possession, taking over those with magic and forcing them to do terrible things. Over time, what at first appeared to be mere mental illness was recognized for what it was: Vramien's corruption. This corruption absorbs and defiles anything it touches, leaving nothing but darkness and rot in its place. As the corruption spread, Vramien's power only grew, eventually becoming strong enough that he took on a more corporeal form. It has also leaked into the magic of the realm and the Nordanner breed, resulting in Ortho Nordanners and other dark magics. He has been spotted patrolling his dominion on several occasions, not bothering to hide himself within his corrupted lands. They say if you look deep enough into the shadows, he is there, grinning back at you. |
Art on this page done by: DaughterOfTheStars (Vahnex, Barachiel, Tulia) and Memuii.
Writers of the lore are credited per-story. Base information for the Gods from Cloudrunner64, rewritten by Moosiferr.
Header art done by: Memuii
Writers of the lore are credited per-story. Base information for the Gods from Cloudrunner64, rewritten by Moosiferr.
Header art done by: Memuii
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