That night, a sorrow perforated the thread of his dreams that took him into the darkness of his subconscious. It had been plaguing him ever since the “Battle at the Gate", but that night, and that dream was vastly different.
He stood amidst a barren wasteland, littered with the slain of a great battle. Bodies dotted the carpet of a cursed land. The ground was flat as far as his eye could see in every direction. A thick fog hung in the air above him that formed a ceiling of despair. Each lifeless form that lay about his feet was cloaked in solid black garments covering every inch of their torsos. Their arms were laid across their chests; black gloves covered the hands. Also common to each was a sword that both hands grasped at the hilt, with the blade laid with the grain of the body and pointed toward their feet. Only their faces could be seen with any detail. Eyes were all opened, but had turned solid white. Fear swept over Aerinas, but he soon realized that he was lying among them, clutching his own sword in a manner fitting that of a valiant death in battle. He rose quickly, cast aside the weapon and hideous rags, and screamed as he never had before. The blade and robes hit the earth, and turned to dust and dissipated.
He slowly walked through the maze of corpses, becoming aware of a presence around him, and through him, brushing his dark skin with a cold finger. Self-consciousness overwhelmed him and his naked body shivered in the cold. Across the wasteland, a figure appeared from the void and approached slowly. Aerinas, responsive to his condition, reached down and peeled the covering off one of the dead and swathed himself with it. The form drew nearer and his heart pounded harder and faster. A sword! He would defend himself with one of the many swords around. He reached down again, taking his eyes off of the figure in the distance and gasped; he stood alone. The bodies had disappeared and nothing stood between him and the black shape that shuffled toward him.
Aerinas’ breath heaved in and out, the exhales turning to frozen vapor in the dark air. Finally, the figure stood before him, clad in fiery raiment. Garments of vivid colors clothed its body. The darkness that shrouded it before had disappeared, and a new life breathed fresh upon it. A hood still shielded the face from view. Aerinas guessed this to be the spirit of a dead elf that had come to seek retribution for the bringing of evil to Mynandrias. Was this a male? Female? Aerinas did not know. He dared not speak, wishing that the dream would end and that the waking world would bring him back to light and sanity. Hopes were in vain. There was no end in sight to cleave the silence that held both in each other's gaze.
For what seemed like hours, each stood without motion or word, tension thick between them. At last, the form made a gesture. Hands emerged from within the drooping sleeves, and reached up to grasp the hood that covered the head. Aerinas noticed the hands, silky smooth with slender fingers beautifully shaped. Well-trimmed nails crowned the tips and Aerinas knew they did not belong to any male creature. The hood was thrown back. A face fairer than any his eyes had ever beheld was revealed. Hair of gold cascaded down across her shoulders and her skin glistened in the minimal light. Each line and curve of her face held Aerinas captive. His trance continued, even as this stranger no longer hid. No ring, necklace, or garnet cluttered her exterior to distract Aerinas’ stare. How he wished this was not a dream.
When she spoke, all of his strength was needed to keep him standing against the spell of her voice. Powerless in her presence, he grew frightened of her and the control she cast with her eyes. His knees quaked, and felt like they would give way at any moment.
"Aerinas, you have come,” she said. Her voice was but a whisper, yet its strength was greater than a blast from a thousand trumpets.
"Long have I waited for you, heir of Lythardia,” she said.
"You are not real; I am dreaming this,” he said, “for no more beautiful a face would I behold if I lived to see another ten thousand years of this earth."
His words produced a smile on her face. “My name is Krüna,” she offered. “Some call me Niconüin, which means Seer. You may call me what you will."
Aerinas remained quiet. His heart still could not decide if she meant him harm, or not. Her hand extended across the vast, dreamy, bottomless pit between them, coming to rest upon his shoulder. It was welcoming and warm; the chill that spread across his thin skin vanished along with any fears of being harmed. In the dream world all was possible; natural laws obeyed their master's commands.
"You are dreaming, but your mind only sees what darkness has befallen you these past days. A journey has taken you to forbidden places, yet hope remains even in these. I have come to help you in this time of need, but the hour grows late. An evil is growing far to the northeast, and well beyond our borders. The threat ever draws nigh. Surely you and your people felt this plight when evil tried to destroy your peaceful city. This did not seem to have the effect that Haarath wanted, but there will soon be more, more like you saw before you a moment ago."
Aerinas looked around again, straining with all his might to peel his eyes from the wonder in front of him. The chasm between them had closed and they stood in a grassy plain a few inches from each other. The fog had lifted, dissolving into a grey sky filled with clouds speeding fast overhead. Lightning struck in the distance, and the claps of its noisy brother were not far behind as a gathering storm approached.
"Why have you chosen to visit me in my dreams?” asked Aerinas nervously, noting the ominous darkness looming toward him.
Krüna answered, “Because thou hast been chosen, Aerinas. Your fate is no longer to be suppressed by your unwillingness to accept it. Just as the evil sorcerer Haarath has been chosen by darkness to delve into perilous things, you have been chosen to undertake the task of leadership. Your spirit has prepared you for this moment your entire life. Your father has also foreseen this."
Aerinas threw his hands up shouting, “But I do not know yet what evil comes, nor what I have seen! My father has only allowed me to know that which he deems fit for me to know, yet I feel there is more to understand. You appear to me in my mind's nightly roaming, and now I am to embark on a quest to rid the world of this curse?"
The storm loomed closer to them and lightning crashed down, with thunder booming. The wind whipped wildly to and fro, twisting and tangling the maiden's hair. She only smiled and never faltered her gaze at Aerinas, while he grew restless and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding light of the storm.
"We must get out of here! Release me from your spell, and let me wake!” cried Aerinas. Aerinas stepped back a few paces, and found himself surrounded by the violence and torrent of the maelstrom.
"You are the chosen one, Aerinas. Prepare yourself, for evil awaits you,” said Krüna, still unmoved by the assaulting winds and deafening thunder.
Suddenly, her face lost its beauty and shimmer. The skin melted away revealing a bone skull. Her hair fell out and was carried away by the wind. The mouth opened, and out swept a scream that knocked Aerinas to the ground. He looked up quickly to see the once lovely creature turn hideous in an instant. A lightning bolt streaked down in a crooked path and struck her, shattering her bones instantly. The blasting thunder nearly split his ears. It was in that moment that he shut his eyes and woke in his bed with a start that sent shudders through the bed and floor.
He sat up in horror, his breath heavy and laborious. Sweat poured from his brow and he soon realized that his entire bedding was damp; his whole body reeked of perspiration. Grateful it was only a dream, he sat there while his heart slowed to its normal rhythmic pattern. He then put his head into his hands, trying to discern what it had all meant. The Chosen One? Why me? Why now? His mind raced along the tracks between fear and doubt. His pondering finally landed him on the face of Krüna, this Niconüin, Seer of All. Though the aching in his head and the darkness that had saturated his heart remained, his thoughts were fixed on her beauty.
Aerinas knew that there were other worlds beyond his own eyes, but had never been brought into one before. He felt that his dream was not just a dream, for he had had lots o
f them before that did not carry such a burden with them as this one did. This was no dream. It was a venture into another world, another Plane, or perhaps another time altogether. So many questions now, yet few answers. The young heir of Lythardia had much to research and study in order to find them.
* * * *
The next day Aerinas returned to life in Mynandrias. The funeral of the fallen had passed and it was not long before the West Gate was repaired. The dream had been tossed aside to the furthest reaches of his mind, but the image of Krüna still awaited him at every turn. He could see her in the water, hear her whispers in the air, and feel her presence in the trees. He suspected her to be one of the feared Enath-Hüdain people that were rumored to dwell in the Forest of Spirits to the east. Little was known of these beings. The information in the libraries and tomes of his people lacked details about them. One thing was for certain, no one could help him.
Elves were keen at keeping records for most every being and locale in all the land. Back in the days of the Great Wars, many elves were scattered about and sent off to the furthest points of many maps of the age. Those that returned had brought with them many journals and charts that plotted out their courses and encounters with any beast or creature, no matter how fair or foul. These were kept in an archive that was decided would remain in the last great Elvish city, Mynandrias. Adjacent to the House of Lythardia was the Library of Songs. It was there that great tales, songs, and maps were open to any elf with a passion for history. In fact, it was encouraged greatly. Aerinas spent most of his free time there when he was not working for his father, since another of his affinities was for history. Over time, the Krayn had adopted the Library for themselves, but still allowed outsiders to access its resources for a small fee.
It was in this library that Aerinas found only bits and pieces regarding his visitor of the night. This did not stop him from scouring most of the library in search of anything he could find. Her face had paralyzed him, and all of his will was bent on seeking the meaning of his dream. Maybe she existed in true form and had found a way to cross mountain and forest through the chasm of the surreal to find him. He could only imagine how long she may have searched in vain for him. Aerinas shook his head in disbelief at these questions and brooded over them tirelessly. Alas, despite his relentless search for clues, he came up short.
About to retire after an evening of searching, he noticed a large, leather-bound book. It sat atop a wooden stand, tucked inside a dimly lit cubbyhole. He took his candle over, and snuck a peek inside. The book was an atlas that contained almost every map made by travelers long ago. As he leafed through it, he came upon a badly stained, brittle map page. Just to the east of Mynandrias, across the Tunin River and through the Forest of Spirits, was a lake. The graphic depicting the body of water was simply labeled “Lake of Spirits". Down toward the bottom of the map was scribbled some notes. One of these notes read “Near the Lake of Spirits a people dwell that can read your thoughts and change shape at will—BEWARE!!” This greatly excited Aerinas because it had to be what he was striving to find all along. He tore out the map and carefully slid it between the pages of another book he carried. Hurriedly, he made his way out of the library back to his abode. There, he poured over the map attempting to memorize each path and creek surrounding the area of the Lake. He knew the lake to be called Fenduin Lake. Many of the surrounding bodies of water, cities, and even territories were renamed after the Great War of Calaridis. This was the turning point in the history of the physical realm of Vaalüna, as was told in the annals contained in the Library of Songs.
Fatigue had gotten the best of him, and the map was laid to rest by his bedside. He dozed off in what he had hoped would be another restless night, with anticipation of seeing his fire-eyed beauty again in his dreams.
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Chapter 4—Secret Meetings
Aeligon rushed his horse along as fast as he could toward El-Caras. He had not spoken of this to Aerinas. He needed to seek out the answers for himself, before it was too late. Aerinas was on his way back to the safety of his home, but evil was brewing stronger than ever. It was growing in the mage's heart like a swelling wave of the ocean. His cabin was not too far from the ruins, by his estimate a half day's ride. As he rode along, he heard hisses and howls off to the south, deep in the forest. He stopped at one point to gain direction, and that is when he heard the hideous sounds to the fullest.
Aeligon had been riding along the path just outside the northern border of Mernith Forest, the same that Haarath had used some days before. To the south, Aeligon's acute ears could still hear the clanking of steel, the hisses, and the barks of a body of creatures moving swiftly southward. This dismayed Aeligon, but he had no way of getting word to the elves fast enough.
Haarath must have dispatched these creatures to deal with Aerinas, he thought and once again hustled his steed eastward. The darkness continued to wrap his thoughts in a blanket of evil, the closer he got to El-Caras.
The horizon loomed while Aeligon's mind was loaded with thoughts about a great many things, least of all his immediate surroundings. A familiar voice suddenly rang out. The wizard was startled from his ponderings and became cross, almost as if he expected the annoyance that broke the silence.
"Confounded Pux, do not alarm me like that again lest you be turned to splinters by my hand,” Aeligon shouted.
"Splinters?” cried the shrill voice, many registers above any normal voice and twice as nerve wracking. “Now why would you want to do that?” The voice came from Aeligon's staff that had been silent up until now, seizing the opportunity of surprise. The soul of a young man, nearly a boy for all intents and purposes, resided in the fiber of the wizard's staff.
The staff started to quake in the hand of its master out of fear, yet there was a playful tone evident in the voice. Suddenly, the staff twisted and turned to face the wizard.
"So that's what I get for all my troubles, is it? To be sat facedown this whole trip and be whacked into trees and those thorny bush things?"
Aeligon ignored him and simply eyed him crossly, glaring as if truly disgruntled with the lad. The face that formed in the larger end of the staff turned from playful to frightened, realizing his master was not happy with his gimmicks.
This became too much for Aeligon to bear, and he burst out with a hearty laugh that caused a flock of birds sitting nearby to disperse quickly. Pux breathed a short sigh of relief, and chuckled along with the wizard.
"Your face bore the weight of a thousand doomed soldiers, Pux,” laughed Aeligon.
Pux snapped, “Yeah, yeah ... just you wait ‘til your soul and mind are trapped in a mere piece of wood and possessed by a cross man. You would want to be comical at any chance given to you, or that you could steal."
"Now Pux, when you are a mighty wizard and are cursed with a prankster for an apprentice, then maybe you will find it necessary to be cynical to him at times,” Aeligon mused, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Especially when you are deep in thought and he decides to startle you.” Aeligon raised an eyebrow like a father would to a mischievous child. The two understood each other very well, and had quite an extraordinary history together.
Aeligon had once held a high position with the Order of Light in the city of Lünathar. It was north of the wetlands and quagmires that separated Anwarna from Salanthanon. It was customary for the Order then, that each wizard was to keep at least one, but no more than three, apprentices working in the laboratories and studies in their service. Aeligon had one, the minimum requirement, and one too many for his taste, to be sure. He liked to work alone, for apprentices were known to be clumsy and made frequent foul-ups while learning the ancient arts of magic and lore. Still, it was required by the Order because the benefits of apprentices, albeit unappreciated by Aeligon, far outweighed the minor inconveniences posed by their idiosyncrasies.
The young man chosen by the Order to aid Aeligon was Pux Miriadis. He was similar in alignment to Aeligo
n, and had a real passion for conjuring. In contrast, Aeligon's abilities aligned with healing and curing and did not, at the time, require the help of a conjurer. Pux was quite good and made a habit out of playing tricks on Aeligon. He would conjure up vermin of all sorts, allowing them to play in Aeligon's bed. He would conjure up frogs that would rise out of his soup bowl. Aeligon was known to be very difficult and testy, not taking kindly to this brand of humor, if any at all. His art relied heavily on intelligence, concentration, and much study. One ill turn could cause massive infection or even death, if spells were mixed incorrectly. The healing arts were sensitive in this way to the accuracy of ingredients and timing, in some cases. This clash of ideals caused Aeligon to become frequently disconcerted at the young conjurer. More often than not he'd throw him out of his keep to find some peace, or seal his mouth and bind his hands around his back to stop the pranks. This worked temporarily, but, after being let loose, Pux would continue the turmoil. During this time, Pux grew very fond of the powerful mage and admired him beyond any other in the Order of Light. Secretly, Pux practiced his art tirelessly in the hopes of one day impressing his master with his rapidly growing skills.
It was in these schemes that Pux grew foolish. One day he went out of Lünathar, and journeyed south to the marshlands of the Cursed Glades lying between the city and the vast land of Salanthanon. It was rumored that there was a Djinn, a powerful genie, which lived near there. The genie was told to have massive intellectual prowess. His most powerful attack was an assault on the mind, in some form or another such as insanity, mind drains or telekinetic forces. Most Djinns of that age were bound to some oath, or piece of mythical jewelry. Pux was off to foil the Djinn to prove himself worthy to the Order, but most of all to find favor with Aeligon. Conjuring up a creature to either free or defeat the Djinn would have certainly won him respect and favor, or at least that was the sought after effect.
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