“He immediately set to work, giving the earth life, and health. At the sound of His laughter, the ground rumbled joyously and rushed to meet Him, thus forming all the mountain ranges. The soft whisper of His voice formed the waters that rose up from the deep valleys left behind by the ground’s movement. His breath formed the winds and the clouds that still roam the skies. He reached one hand into the waters, and another onto the mountain peaks. From the points where He touched, all the green and growing things spread outward in lush abundance, until they covered the whole of the earth. In the oceans were formed all the life which breathe of water, and in the young forests formed all the life which breathe of air. His glorious creation, when all was done, was crowned with a single flower, growing on the highest mountaintop.
“Even with all the animals, and the new life that surrounded Him, there were still none like Aviad. So He created the first humans, blessing them with intelligence beyond that of animals, and the ability to love, and laugh, and form coherent speech. Together they kept good company, and Aviad was content. He loved his children and blessed them with his presence, yet they were soon lured and deceived by the darkness. For the first time evil’s shadow passed over Aviad’s perfect creation and corrupted it. Each living thing suddenly began to age, eventually returning into the earth from where it had come. Separated from Aviad, His human companions grew frail and perished, and Aviad was sorely grieved. He wept to himself atop the hill—the first tears He had ever cried.
“Much more than human tears, the droplets shed by Aviad further revealed His unique nature, for they were vibrant and living, at once part of Aviad’s grand being, and yet distinct and individual. As the first tear fell into a world bathed in shadow, it reflected the brilliant glow of Aviad’s perfect love. Momentarily, the tear hung in the sky, a new morning star illuminating all of creation, breaking evil’s hold and heralding a new dawn. But mankind had been blind for so long, that few recognized the face of the Creator shining through that first tear, whose name has been revealed to us as Immar. As the tear fell, it was broken on jagged cliffs that marred the surface of the world like a scar. Blood ran down the cliffs from the place where the tear was broken, and the agonized cries of Aviad and Immar rang out in unison over the whole world. Through the breaking of the tear, Aviad felt the same pain His children endured at the hands of sickness and death. The thirsty soil tried to swallow Immar, but death was no match for Him. He sprang forth again, rejoining Aviad to sit at His side, and revealing Aviad’s full power and majesty. Immar’s blood had washed away all that separated humanity from its creator.
“A second tear fell behind the first, only this one was swept up in the wind before hitting the ground. All of Aviad’s love for his creation, and the pain of its separation from Him, welled up in the tear. His passion was so intense that it ignited the tear, sending a bright flame across the sky. Many looked up and exalted in Aviad’s glory, allowing the flame’s brilliance to drive the Shadow from their hearts. Those who accepted the light, revealed to us as Emeth, found themselves bathed in its gentle warmth and were healed by it.
“But there were others who feared the flame. They fled as far as they could into the Shadow’s waiting arms, denying that there could ever be hope in such searing brilliance, even trying to convince themselves that the light never existed. Those who thought they were seeking protection in the Shadow found instead that the farther they fled into its depths, the more they feared the light until they could hardly bear to even look upon it. In this way, they allowed the Shadow to falsely claim them for his own.
“The light of Aviad’s flame could not be extinguished by the Shadow. It continued to penetrate the darkness, ever seeking the lost, reaching out to illuminate the homeward path. The heat of the flame and the wetness of Aviad’s second tear together formed a fine mist that filled the air. Aviad’s children breathed it in, as newborns taking in their first breath of life. The mist re-ignited in their hearts, burning together in unison with the Creator and bestowing upon each spiritual gifts. With them we are called to serve one another as we journey through the shadows and into Aviad’s light. And so, in the form of Aviad’s tears, Immar, the Lord of Divine Love, and Emeth, the Lord of Truth, were first revealed to us. Because they are of Aviad, and remain one with Aviad, they embody all of His perfect goodness. It is these that the Prophets call the Ancients.
“The Shadow’s corruptive influence continued to spread so long as humanity allowed itself to be swayed by it, for even those who knew and loved the Ancients sometimes stumbled into the twilight or were lured into the darkness. The Shadow therefore continued to cause the creation to slowly age and die. Yet through Aviad’s perfect love, Immar’s life-giving sacrifice, and the Spirit of Emeth, humanity may be cleansed and made new, so that even in death Aviad’s children can live on forever with Him in His realm, beyond the earth, and even the stars of the heavens.
“Under the Ancients’ care, the human race grew and increased their number. They began to form small communities and learned to farm the land. They also built shrines to the Ancients out of worshipful devotion. In each shrine were housed Tomes of Wisdom, scribed in the hands of the Ancients themselves. Very few of mortal blood could read or wield these powerful Tomes without falling into madness, and so the first monastic orders were founded. The Prophets who formed them guarded the Tomes, and the few who could read them taught their wisdom to the rest of the order. This wisdom was scribed by human hand into those books we know of as the Tomes of the Prophets, which could be read by anyone with the desire for knowledge, and could be taught to the people. When those with adventurous hearts began to wander into the untamed wilds, establishing new homes and forming new cities, orders began to send their followers out into the world to teach, provide ritual services, and perform works of great charity.
“As the years passed, the Shadow and his forces of evil grew in strength. He raised up two shadow spirits to aid him and to serve as a twisted mockery of the Ancients. They were Destruction and Deceit, and he called them Alazoth and Tieced. Their impact resounded through the whole of the earth, forming a great rift through the peaceful surface, and into the hot flaming core. Up from those teeming depths rose billowing gasses, and raging storms that flooded the lands. The trees were ripped apart, the oceans swelled in anger, the earth trembled. Famine, and plagues, and all types of pestilence swept through the land. Dark, strange creatures, not of Aviad’s making, began to spawn, ambushing travelers and assaulting villages. Aviad’s glorious creation was plunged into utter chaos and despair, but He did not abandon it. He willed with Immar and Emeth, to ever fight against the Shadow’s devastating presence. Many men rose to aid them in the fight. Most joined with willing hearts, and were blessed. However, there were some who could not resist the Shadow’s wiles, and fell into darkness, choosing to become vile minions of evil whose offspring still roam to this day.
“Many great battles were waged, as generation upon generation of humanity’s blood was spilled keeping back the Shadow. No matter how many warriors and prophets stood on the side of the Ancients, others were swayed to following the false promises of the Shadow, and thus no victory was truly decisive.
“It was during one such battle that the course of history was forever changed. Among the armies of the Ancients was a young boy with a great desire to serve Emeth, the Lord of Truth. He had been turned away from the abbey year upon year, because he was poor and of no great lineage. Only by his persistence was he eventually given a sword and a purpose; to fight the Shadow. The captain who sent him into battle had assumed that survival would be the greatest achievement this young man could hope for in such times.
“As many of the great abbeys and monasteries fell, vital relics and tomes were moved to areas of protection. So it happened that the Tome of Truth was set to be moved to a newly built shrine, dedicated to Emeth. The Tome was accompanied by high ranking officers, monks, and a large complement of fighting men. Before they had gotten very far, they were ambushed by Ti
eced’s forces. The monks, the officers, and many of the men were systematically targeted and slaughtered. Those who remained were young, untrained fighters who had been pressed into service out of sheer need, and Tieced found it easy to confuse their minds. Without their battle-hardened leaders to guide them, they were quickly succumbing to the terrors the enemy was unleashing upon them, and they were ready to simply desert the Tome and flee.
“Varol alone was able to see through Tieced’s deceptions. He knew that if he did not do something quickly, all was lost. Boy though he was, no one questioned him as he took command and pulled the men together. He rallied them, urging them onward, breaking the hold Tieced had on their minds. In the end, it was the enemy who abandoned the Tome and scattered into the hills.
“When the Tome was securely in Varol’s hands, he looked upon it with amazement, knowing that he would never again hold such a treasure. Poor though he was, he had always aspired to serve the abbey, and had taught himself to read in the hopes that he might one day be accepted. Worried that the enemy might have somehow defiled the Tome, he dared to release the silver clasp, open the leather binding, and leaf through its pages. In reverent amazement, he could not help but read some of the words out loud to himself before he closed and clasped the book again, relieved that it had not apparently suffered any damage.
“When Varol’s men reached the new shrine, the Tome was handed over to the monk who was to give the dedication. He had reportedly spent years in meditation and practice so that he could read but a few lines from it. When word reached the abbot that Varol had been able to read far more than that, Varol was summoned to his chambers. Fearing that he had done something wrong, Varol dropped to his knees before the abbot and began to apologize for his transgression, asking for leniency. But the abbot was a wise man with a faithful heart. He handed Varol the open Tome and asked him to read it. Varol did so flawlessly. The abbot explained that his reading of the Tome was not forbidden, merely unexpected, and he offered to make Varol a monk at the abbey if he so desired. Varol instead chose to remain as one of the monastic guard and often asked to be sent on missions to move other relics, tomes, and even Prophets who were being relocated for the sake of their safety.
“Over time, Varol grew to be a great warrior and scholar. He was a valiant man who never raised his sword out of anger, but only in service to the Ancients. Many a battle was won by his sword and his cunning. Among the Ancients, he was favored more than any other man before or since, and yet he remained humble, turning away countless worldly honors and special favors.
“There came a time when the world was in the greatest desperation it had yet faced. The Shadow had for the first time erected a shrine of its own, one from which darkness and chaos spewed forth, and where evil’s slain minions could be resurrected. From this shrine, the Shadow filled the ranks of his armies so that no matter how many were killed in battle, they only returned the next day to resume their fight. To strengthen their position, each Order called for all of the Tomes of Wisdom to be brought to Aviad’s shrine in the south. In that way their powers could be combined, and, it was hoped, that both the evil shrine and the dark forces bearing down upon them would be destroyed. The Shadow learned of this plot, and he ordered Alazoth to launch an attack on Aviad’s Shrine, while Tieced launched an assault on the Shrine of Truth. He needed to force Emeth’s Order to choose between taking the Tome to Aviad’s Shrine, or standing to protect the Shrine of Truth and those loyal followers who were defending it with their lives.
“In the midst of the fray stood Varol, his golden hair flowing in the light of righteousness. Many of Tieced’s minions fell to his blade that day. But as evening began to fall, it was evident that under such continued brutal assault, the Shrine of Truth would not stand for much longer. Tieced was a wily opponent and had the ability to cloud the minds of Emeth’s warriors. Many of them fell not to the enemy’s blades, but to those of their comrades. Since Varol was the only one who could read Emeth’s Tome without coming to harm, and who could also protect it with his sword, it was his task to make the journey. Although Tieced was powerful, he knew better than to attack Varol directly while he held the Tome of Truth in his hand. He had not forgotten his previous encounters with Varol, nor had he forgotten that by its nature, the Tome possessed great power of its own. Tieced knew that should it so much as touch him, he would be cast into oblivion. Instead he appeared in many forms before Varol, trying his utmost to trick the young warrior. But Varol’s heart was pure, and Emeth protected him from Tieced’s deceptions as he had so many times before. After many failed attempts, Tieced called upon his minions to prevent Varol from reaching Aviad’s Shrine.
“Little did he know that Aviad’s Order was already on the move. While they could not destroy the Shadow’s shrine without the Tome of Truth, they had managed to do two very significant things. First, by the power of the Tomes of Aviad and Immar, and with much prayer and sacrifice, they were able to trap Alazoth within the confines of a magically sealed stone chest. Without Alazoth to lead them, his armies fell into disarray, and Aviad’s forces were able to drive them all the way back to the rift in the earth from whence they had come. Though in the heat of battle the chest fell into the hands of Alazoth’s followers, certain protections had been placed upon the chest to ensure that his followers could not release him. Only one of innocent blood, whose heart was willing, could open the chest and set Alazoth free again.
“Meanwhile, Varol became trapped between those retreating from the victory of Aviad’s Order, and those who were pursuing him from the direction of the Shrine of Truth. Even as Alazoth’s warriors were licking their wounds, Tieced’s were telling the tale of the fall of Emeth’s Shrine, and reveling over how many of His followers and Prophets they had slaughtered. Full of anguish, and having no way of escape, Varol charged upon the two armies, fully prepared to meet his death by taking out as many of his enemies as he could on the way. Seeing Varol with Emeth’s Tome shining bright in his hands, they fled into the rift, with Varol at their heels. When the last of the beasts vanished into the Rift, Varol raised the Tome and called upon its power to seal it.
“As the Rift closed before his eyes, Varol stumbled for the first time in his life. He allowed himself to be consumed with pride, as though he had single-handedly driven evil from the world. He imagined the honor and status that he would now be blessed with among his people. And as these thoughts entered his heart, the Tome wrenched itself from his hands and was torn in two. Realizing what had happened, Varol kneeled before it and wept with shame and grief. He begged Emeth’s forgiveness with a truly repentant heart, picked up the remains of the Tome, and returned home with a heavy heart.
“When Varol entered his home village and looked upon the carnage there, he knew how foolish his pride had been. Many had perished in the attempt to drive evil back, including most of the monks who had cared for him as a brother, and who had taught him the ways of righteousness.
“Varol rebuilt the Shrine of Truth with his own hands, stone by stone, as an act of penance. As he was in the midst of setting the stones of the altar, a haggard looking man emerged and approached him from the wood. The man looked as though he had been walking for many days without rest or food.
“‘Is there a well nearby?’ the man asked. ‘My water skin is empty and needs to be filled.’
“‘There was once a well here, but the dark ones defiled it so that it is no longer fit for drinking,’ Varol replied. ‘There is no stream, and the village is yet half a day’s walk.’ Varol took the skin from his own belt and handed it to the stranger. ‘Your need appears to be greater than mine. I will wait for the rains to quench my thirst, else I will return to the village if they do not come.’
“‘Your compassion is great, and your sacrifice noble.’ The man removed from his belt a beautifully carved wooden cup and set it on the ground. ‘Please take this in payment. It is all I have to give. May you be blessed by more than rain water.’
“Varol reached down for
another stone to continue with his building, telling the man as he did so to keep his cup, that payment was not necessary. But when he stood back up again, he saw that beside the cup the stranger had placed on the ground, a fresh new spring had erupted, with clear, cool water. The man took the cup, filled it from the spring, and handed it to Varol.
“‘You must drink from my cup, for it is filled with living water. Once you drink it, you will never again thirst for any water but mine, which will sustain you, and nourish you for the rest of your days, and in the days of true life beyond that.’
“Varol then knew that he was in the presence of Immar, the Lord of Divine Love and Mercy, and kneeled before Him in prayer. He knew that he had indeed been blessed with more than rain water, and that his transgressions had been forgiven. When he finally looked up, he saw that Immar had vanished and he was once again alone. Varol tore down the half-built altar and instead erected a fountain with a basin to contain the water. He left the cup there on a little shelf he built into the fountain’s wall, so that anyone who made pilgrimage to the shrine could drink from it. Though Varol kept the tale to himself, many who traveled to the shrine thereafter claimed that water taken from the cup healed wounds and cured sickness. But it was best known for clearing the mind and restoring lost sight.”
Morganne paused in her reading and stared with wide eyes into the flames of the hearth fire. “I think I understand now …” she said in a low voice. “At least some things, though much less than I ought. I never knew this part of the story. And yet there it was, before the eyes of my mind as I sat on the cliff top. How did it get there, if not by Aviad’s desire that I act upon it?” Her voice was barely a whisper, and Elowyn realized that Morganne was speaking only to herself, as though Elowyn were not even in the room.
Journey to Aviad Page 27