by R J Hanson
The elves, fair and vain, saw themselves as equals with the champions and only worshiped the gods that remained in the heavens.
The dwarves were content in their mining. Their love and worship were reserved for precious metals, rare gems, and the fine art of smithing taught to them by the god of stone, Roarke.
In the days before the Battles of Rending, when the land was one, gods and their champions roamed the earth with men. The gods and champions showed men many things. They saw the eagerness in man’s heart and taught him various skills. They taught them the secrets of iron, and steel. They taught them the mysteries of the three great oceans. Some took the fairer and stronger of the men as companions and lovers. Those couplings spawned a race not intended by the Father of Time or Fate. The Great Men rose from the old land, when it was still one, out of the passion of men, champions, and gods.
The Great Men mastered steel, and conquered the storms of the unending oceans. They built vast cities to honor The Father of Time, Fate, and the gods and champions that walked among them. Their accomplishments amazed even the gods remaining in the heavens. Their best soldiers rivaled the champions in their prowess with sword and axe, mace and arrow. Their artisans broadened the imagination of the champions, and sculpted the grace of the gods in metal and stone.
As all men do, Great or otherwise, they succumbed to pride and vanity. In their vast cities, they held on high regard their generals and kings. They worshiped their heroes of war in the same halls they worshiped the Infinite Father. They bartered their congregations to the gods that would teach them more and grant more blessings. They traded their worship for power that was offered by vain and evil champions. They gave the champions their first tastes of jealousy, tainting the hearts and twisting the souls of the angelic creatures. They enslaved the lesser common men and scorned the elves and dwarves.
The earthly gods saw the vanity of the Great Men and were shamed. The heavenly gods would not tolerate the insults. The champions of the land were sent against the Great Men to destroy their cities, burn their ships, and purge the land of their people. Most common men, elves, and dwarves were spared, but they watched as a golden age fell.
The magnificent cities of the Great Men were pushed into the oceans. Knowledge was lost, art was destroyed.
The history of the world and the calendar of the gods decayed. The measure of Time was forgotten. Some champions faced their own kin in the Battles of Rending.
Some of the Great Men remained faithful to the Infinite Father of Time, and continued to worship Fate. They had split from those who would enslave and persecute. Those Great Men surrendered their arms to the champions, pleading for mercy. Bolvii, a god of war, watched the champions, who were once valiant, murder the faithful. Bolvii was shamed. He found no glory in execution. He felt no malice in his heart toward the faithful of the Great Men, but found forgiveness there instead.
Bolvii disguised one of his own ships of war and sent the Great Men that had remained faithful to an island in the west that he had fashioned separate from the works of Fate. Bolvii hid this island in the mist from the eyes of the other gods. There the Great Men built a city to honor Fate, the Infinite Father, and Bolvii.
The island of Lethor was home to the faithful Great Men for several generations during the times of the Battles of Rending and the Shore Drifts. Their history and time were kept in the spoken word only. Bolvii forbade the tangible trappings of religion and would only allow sincere worship. History and time were lost to them as was their vanity and pride. They emerged from this period of vague measure as a race with a clear conscience, a genuine love for the gods, and a desire to see peace and justice restored to the home of their grandfathers.
Some of the Great Men who remained behind fought viciously in the Battles of Rending. Some champions aligned with their descendants and opposed the strength of the earthly gods and their champions. They fought, but saw their doom. At the end of the Battles of Rending, and during the times of the Shore Drifts, those Great Men and their champion allies fled north to a far land. They hid there with the enchanted aid of the traitorous champions from the sword of the earthly gods, and the eye of those heavenly. They waited for the day when they once again might emerge from the shadow and challenge the gods for the rule of the land.
Bolvii counseled the faithful to spread among common men, elves and dwarves. He told them that some champions and evil Great Men would still hunt them. When the Great Men took to the sea again, they found that the land was no longer one. They found that the Shore Drifts had split the land apart and changed the face of the world. They discovered nine lands and many tribes.
Seeing the folly in trusting those earth bound with their knowledge, the earthly gods returned to their home in the heavens leaving their mounts, the mighty serpents, to roam the lands untended. They still looked over those who remained faithful, and from time to time sent their champions to the aid of their followers. However, the gods would not walk again with men until the time of the Awakening.
Bolvii returned home to the heavens as well. He sent his champions frequently to reassure the faithful among the Great Men. Bolvii knew that evil was still in the world. Bolvii was sure that the bloodlines to lead and rule would be from the Great Men, and they would be evil’s chief nemesis.
Of the nine new lands, only three were of great size. Those were known as Tarborat, Janis, and Hunthor. The other six were a series of large islands that surrounded those three which came to be known as the land of Ozur.
Tarborat was a vast grassy plain, with great mountains near its center, and bordered by sheer cliffs. It was here that the evil Great Men fled with their champion allies.
Those champions were far from their gods, and their grace wilted. Their visages became dark, and the evil in their hearts was reflected in their appearance. They stalked the land as demons. Some still served the Great Men. Some stalked the land alone and sought revenge for the purity that had been stripped from them. They raped innocents, and spawned perverse and gruesome things to walk the earth. Some haunts that resulted from that revenge were burned by daylight, and thirsted for the lifeblood of men. Some creatures birthed by that hate became man and beast, changed by the phasing of the moon.
In Tarborat, some of the Great Men mixed with the common people. The Great Men, who were leaders of the Tribes of Tarborat, kept their blood pure. Among them rose a mighty and wicked king. Ingshburn was a powerful warrior who commanded a score of demons. He stood almost eight feet tall and wielded a heavy battle-axe in only one hand while known to conjure with the other. He organized his forces and systematically conquered the plains and mountains of Tarborat. Elves of the plains and dwarves of the mountains of Tarborat fled the land. Some were captured and enslaved. Ingshburn’s demons used the elves and dwarves in horrible ways. Ingshburn’s sorcerers mastered some of the roving demons and sent them against island tribe after island tribe. He conquered three of the six islands before he met opposition.
Janis was the smallest of the three great continents. It was caught on the border of seasons in the fits of magic, the lower half of the land frozen year-round and the upper half a tropical sprawl. It was home to many different creatures and two tribes of common men.
One scattered tribe had taken to the jungles of Janis. They were called the Zepute. They wore thin skins, and stalked through their deadly lands in small groups.
The other tribe had taken to the borderlands of the frozen south. They were called the Slandik. They were a tough and hearty people who existed in tight communities where they depended on each other for survival in the harsh environment.
The two tribes warred when they encountered one another, but those encounters were rare at best.
Hunthor was the largest of the three continents. The High Ranges shared the northern half of Hunthor with a lush and enchanted forest, Suethiel.
The High Ranges were the largest range of mountains encountered by man or beast both before, and after, the Shore Drifts. The ancient homes of
the dwarves were carved into the bones of the majestic peaks.
Suethiel was home to the slim and graceful sectot trees, and the majority of the elven population of Hunthor.
The southern half of Hunthor was a flowing combination of forest, hills, and plains, divided here and there by swift rivers. It had been inhabited by roving clans of common men for ages after the Battles of Rending.
Great Men from Lethor began appearing on the shores of Hunthor long after the Shore Drifts had been forgotten in the common man’s history.
The Great Men lived among the scattered tribes and only a very few kept their blood pure and separate from the common men. Of those few that did keep themselves pure in blood, there arose peaceful leaders in the tribes. In time, those leaders combined their people and built cities. Some of the glory of the former world was returned. Those leaders tried to make amends to the elves and dwarves of the land, but the long-life span of those peoples brought with it a long memory.
More than a thousand years after the Great Men returned to the lands of Hunthor they were of two kingdoms, led by brothers. The calendar of the gods was restored, and the Age of Brother Kingdoms began.
The kingdom of Lethanor, called so to honor the refuge that Bolvii provided the Great Men, prospered for another thousand years. The kingdom of Ozur, called so to honor the warship of Bolvii that carried the Great Men to sanctuary, also prospered. Among both lands, many common men and Great Men alike held lordship over smaller fiefdoms.
Then they learned of Tarborat, and of its king, Ingshburn. An all-consuming war began between the Brother Kingdoms and Tarborat. It was a war that had been destined since before the days of the Battles of Rending, a war that Fate foresaw. That war saw the fall of Ozur. That war has been waged for centuries.
Heirs of Vanity
Part II: Roland’s Vow
Chapter I
“The Enemy of My Enemy is My Ally”
Roland awoke in the dark. He tried to sit up but pain shot throughout his body. His vision blurred and dizziness swam through his head. He could hear distant voices. Is this the home of Bolvii? Roland thought to himself. Sleep came for him like the charge of cavalry. Roland slept.
Untold hours later Roland again awoke to the feel of a moist cloth on his forehead. He opened his eyes and the blur had cleared. He was now certain he was dead for he looked into the eyes of an angel. When she smiled Roland felt peace wash throughout his soul. She was a slim, light skinned
beauty with long, raven black hair and sky-blue eyes. Roland’s angel stood and drifted from the dark room he was in. He tried to speak but discovered that he was still very weak. Sleep came for him again as he collapsed back into the silk that surrounded him.
“Awake, Sir Roland,” he heard the delicate whisper of a female voice. “Awake. You and your friends are safe.”
“It is just Roland, no ‘Sir’ to it,” Roland said as he attempted to sit. He discovered that he was feeling much better. Well rested.
He looked up into the eyes of his angel. She must be a champion sent from Bolvii himself.
“You should be well enough to dress for dinner,” came from her full and inviting lips. “You will find all of your things here and intact. Your friends, and your horses, have been well cared for.”
“Might I know the name of the angel that saved me? I must know whose champion you are.” Roland said. He understood now how the men of old were helpless before the beauty of the champions that traveled with them. He understood how one could be struck so violently by beauty.
“Angel?” The ivory skinned beauty asked. “Truly there is no angel here, nor one even close.”
“I beg your pardon,” Roland said. “But I converse with one, too beautiful to be nothing but a very resident of the heavens, even now.”
The young woman’s warm lips curved up into a smiled. Roland knew then he would be helpless against that smile.
“I am no angel, no champion, Roland.”
“Then the champions on high should hide their heads in shame that they can never possess such grace as that found radiating from such an earth-bound source.”
The young beauty blushed and favored Roland with another smile as her ample chest fluttered in response to her sudden breath.
“I believe you are still light headed,” she said with her smile toning her pure voice.
“I love you now,” Roland said, “and will forever.”
“You should dress for dinner,” the young woman said again, this time with a laugh.
No girlish giggles from this one, nor any hint of mocking. Roland decided that he loved her laugh as well.
“Might I know the name of my cause to draw breath?”
“My name is Clairenese,” the young lady answered.
With that, she stood and floated from the room on light feet. She stopped just before exiting and turned up the flame on the oil lamp near the door. Roland had never seen a woman so beautiful. Her form alone would stop any man in the street, but there was more. Roland saw an intelligence that shined in her eyes in the frank way she looked at him. He saw a confidence in the way she moved and every aspect of her posture. This was no fainting beauty, nor was she one to flatter with a giggle at some foolish remark or flirt. This was a woman possessed of a strong will.
Mind your surroundings! he heard in his father’s voice. You woke up dumb, don’t stay that way!
Roland rose, still a little shaky. He found that his wounds, the ones he remembered among others he did not, had been treated. Treated, and for the most part healed! He found all of his equipment intact. He discovered that his armor and weapons had been cleaned and oiled and that his clothes had been washed and scented.
His thoughts turned to his angel in spite of Velryk’s warning going off in his head. He felt himself a fool for being so easily swayed by a pretty face and enchanting voice. He wished to wipe the emotions from his heart and cleanse his mind of her memory. He, however, could not. Clairenese was now a permanent resident among his desires.
As Roland dressed, he realized that he had slept for the first time since he could remember, peacefully and without the protection of his helmet. That line of thought brought him back to wonder about what had happened at the battle with Dawn and Yorketh. Curiosity burned within him. He had to know what had become of his friends. He had failed them.
That thought sobered him and his visage reflected his shame. He had made it from the battlefield somehow, and his friends were said to be well. He must focus on what was before him and not waste time on the past. Roland shook all foolish thoughts from his mind as he pulled his helmet over his head, then reconsidered. It would be rude to walk around in his host’s home wearing his helmet. Furthermore, it would show that he was afraid or, at the very least, unsure. Show strength when you are weak, the words from Arto coming to him.
Roland curled his helm under his arm and proceeded. Roland took up the scarf to cover the scar on his neck and discovered that the scar had vanished.
As Roland finished dressing, he heard a slight knock on his door. For the first time Roland looked around the room he was in. His thoughts and motives had been so directed earlier that he had missed his actual surroundings. He had been thinking of plots, motives and outcomes. He had failed to think of his/Velryk’s advice literally.
He viewed a room that possessed all the luxuries of a lord’s bedroom, silk on the pillows and sheets, thick elven made carpets on the floors, and rich paintings of ancient battles and majestic landscapes hung on the walls of black stone. The air smelled pleasant enough but there was a weight to it that he couldn’t identify.
Roland walked to the door. Behind the door he found a pale, and very thin man wearing a servant’s gown. Upon seeing him Roland reconsidered and placed his helm on his head. The thin man was there in the lighted vision of Roland’s helm however, the magic of the helmet revealed no heat from him whatsoever.
“You are ready to be escorted to the Dining Hall?” The pale man asked.
“I a
m.”
“Follow me, kind sir.”
The thin man led Roland down a dim hallway softly lit with unusual glowing stones. They appeared to be polished marble spheres that shown with a comforting light. They reached a large stairway railed with fine mahogany wood and carpeted with purple silks. Roland was led into a room containing a wall of books, several lavish chairs, and thick elven rugs on the floors. He saw Eldryn and Ashcliff standing in the room sharing a drink from crystal goblets and talking quietly.
The thin man left Roland’s side and exited the room, closing the large doors behind him. Roland saw his two companions, apparently healthy, and relief washed through him.
“How fair you?” Roland asked.
“Well,” Eldryn said. “And you?”
“I have certainly, and most recently, been worse,” Roland replied. “Where are we?”
“Your guess is as good as ours,” Ashcliff said. “However, I may have an idea of who intervened on our behalf. I am sure it will all be explained at dinner.”
Upon seeing his friends safe Roland removed his helmet. Eldryn handed Roland a goblet of the best wine Roland had ever sampled. Perhaps because of the quality, or perhaps because he had never thought he would taste wine again.
“Ash, I believe you have successfully deceived us where your skills in combat are concerned,” Roland said.
Eldryn gave Roland a curious look.
“I never said that I could not fight, I merely refrain from it when I can,” Ashcliff replied.
Roland and Ashcliff shared a smile.
“What do you speak of?” Eldryn asked.
“While you were down, our friend here came to our aid,” Roland said. “It turns out that he is quite capable with his hands and feet.”
“When you grow up on the street you either learn how to fight, or you do not live to learn other things,” Ashcliff replied.
“I have something for you,” Roland said.