At the West Gate the party assembled, each of them adorned in their own personal war finery. Each of the elves, except for Ithyllna, had a bow. Each one had been passed down through generations of the Krayn people, and each one had a story to tell to ears open to them. Ithyllna had chosen to bring a set of her finest throwing knives, for she was able to tack a fly to the wall of her vault from thirty yards away or more. These were carried in a leather belt that hung about her waist. Aeligon had Reaper at his side. Pux had also joined the party, his smile bold and commanding from his wooden prison.
Horses were brought to them by the stable hands, who worked the stables night and day to care for the wise beasts. The horses were all brown in coat except for Jjanasi, who shone white like the Pillar of Arünir in the land of Salanthanon, land of the wizards. Tristandor sat upon him, strong and proud, leader of the Krayn Elves of Mynandrias. The sight was wonderful to behold, with many of the people coming to the brinks of their doors, and standing frozen upon the bridges to gaze upon him. He was the greatest leader in the entire surrounding lands of Vaalüna, and his presence was the talk of every creature, spreading like wildfire between mountain, valley, and mightiest of rivers. Each member of the party bowed to honor the mightiest of Elf-Lords. He stood at the verge of the city's gate, and turned to face the others.
"My great brothers and sisters, we are summoned to answer the rise of evil, with the warlock Hydrais as the chief suspect. Long is the road before us, but more difficult is his path now. He has chosen the Sorcerer Haarath to fulfill the prophecy that he set forth so long ago, to which I have firsthand knowledge. We do not yet know where the scroll dwells that contains the spell potent enough to raise him up from the depths of the Netherworlds. Aeligon has been allowed a glimpse of it, but that is not enough to show us the path. We must seek out each ally that can answer this threat, for our fate will be theirs, if Hydrais is not defeated and his fortress destroyed. We will head west to the land of Fornidain to seek the alliance of men and giants. That is the first. My son has chosen a different path, and is now riding east toward Lake Fenduin to seek out more aid, I hope."
A break rippled through the concentration of the group as the words of Tristandor spilled forth.
"Do not be dismayed,” said Tristandor, when he saw the looks of fright. “Perhaps he possesses knowledge of the Enath-Hüdain that we are not privy to. Let us all pray that this is the state that he finds himself in when he locates them. Ride now with me to Gudred, to the land of men and giants!"
At the command, the gate was swung open, and out charged the six thundering horses into Mernith Forest. The heavy hooves could be heard for some distance before they faded, and the gate was closed. An enormous silence fell upon the city as fear fell upon them, a sadness that could barely be explained by the council members for many months thereafter.
* * * *
It took the better part of a day for Aerinas to find a way across the Tunin River that was safe for him and his horse. Finally, a narrow, swift section farther to the north offered its rocks for stepping places. The water receded as if it expected him. The river protected those that it found favorable, and Aerinas was most grateful that he was deemed worthy by such a mighty force. Once safely across he made camp on its western bank, choosing not to venture into the northern section of the Forest of Spirits until the light of the next day. He woke the next morning, but before he set out again he looked into the western sky and thought of the party. I wish you all the best fortunes, he thought to himself while he strode deep into the eeriness of the forest.
On foot, it would have taken him many days to cross through the forest to Lake Fenduin. However, he had a horse, not Jjanasi, but a good horse, nonetheless. The woods were darker than the Mernith; the trees hugged closer together to choke out the light. The path was faint and hidden in most places by leaves and fallen debris. It was a sign that none had traveled upon it in quite some time, or that the forest had not done its best to conceal the path itself. The air was thick with humidity, though the winter season was upon the land. Without much light the ground remained dark and muddy, void of plant life, save for the moss growing out of the moist shadows on the rocks and trees. Aerinas saw these signs as a warning signal to get out and beware. He stayed the course for the rest of the day, hoping to reach a clearing in the forest by nightfall, for he did not want to know what crawled in the dampness after darkness fell.
There were many incidents where whole parties seemingly disappeared without a trace in this ancient wood. Travelers spoke of beings dressed in white, glowing garments floating through the trees, only to then vanish into the air a moment later.
It was told in tales that the spirits of the innocent walked here, still seeking the settling of scores with their enemies. The Great War had claimed many lives across the entire land of Vaalüna. Battles were fought in each land, and some fell more forsaken than others. Families were slaughtered without reason or purpose, save to hew the heart of the enemies of Hydrais. Though time passed and the land healed, the innocents’ deaths went unlamented and unavenged. The phantoms’ resolves were now fixed on exacting the death of any who set foot into their precious province. Angry at their kings of old, even more so at their enemies, the phantoms dissuaded all but the most depurate or spell-protected from traveling their realm.
Aerinas’ gaze measured the forest before him. With little knowledge of what lay beyond the ever-present wall of trees, he continued forward. The ground grew softer, muddier, and harder to traverse. The choking swarm of trees and brambles pressed out the light from above. Aerinas lost all concept of time, since he was not able to use the sun for direction. He withdrew a small instrument from his satchel, a compass given to him by a traveler from the north beyond the land of Salanthanon. The man claimed to be a pirate of the sea, but few believed his tales. This device, however, proved his story to be true. Aerinas held it in the palm of his hand. As he held it, the small needle inside started to spin a bit. As it settled it pointed to the “N", which Aerinas remembered stood for “north". The direction he was facing was southeast. Aerinas smiled as he pulled out his map. Comparing the setting from his little navigator, he deduced that he was heading in exactly the right direction. A sigh broke the stiff silence. The map and compass were put away, and Aerinas led his horse onward.
Even with the delight he felt when he learned that he was heading in the proper direction, Aerinas’ heart began to worry as light faded with the sun. No clearing was in sight, no rise in the bog of writhing weeds, thistles, and nettles. The idea of spending a night in this wood, without the benefit of firelight, meant certain death. With more sweat cascading off of his face, he urged the horse harder and faster through the thickets. Fog started to settle in; the cooling of the night air chased out the welcome warmth from the day. It made it even harder for Aerinas to discern the much-needed detail beyond. He continued on, only stopping once to feed his horse a quick carrot and sugar cube, the favored mid-trip snack of the Krayn horses.
With the last breath of the sun, Aerinas finally caught sight of his savior. Ahead of him, about twenty paces through the fog, the land started to rise up out of the sinking earth. Hurriedly, Aerinas pulled his horse out of the sopping mud, and clamored up the rise. Once upon it, Aerinas spared no time in building a fire. The twigs and branches were not as damp as they were down below on the forest floor.
Aerinas turned to his horse with a smile. “We must be in the only clearing in this entire forest.” The horse let out a small whinny in agreement.
Though howls were heard far in the distance, and Aerinas swore he saw figures moving through the fog at one point during the night, the elf and his horse were never bothered. Aerinas slept when he could on the knoll.
The next day did not find Aerinas in any better of a situation, nor did the next. Each day he found some place to make camp, convenient, as if it were made ready for him. After the third day, he started to suspect something was awry, ethereal, about the forest. No creature impeded their travels, spooked hi
s horse, nor tried to take them in the night. It was if an otherworldly being kept watch over them, concealed them, and protected them. He felt as uncomfortable as he did comforted. Still, he slept as best he could.
The marshy earth began to retreat as drier ground became the mainstay. Aerinas took to saddle gladly. Just before the sun sank beneath the horizon on the fourth evening, Aerinas caught sight of the last remaining sparkles of light reflecting off the lake's surface through the trees. He smiled, and patted his horse lightly on the neck.
"Good boy,” he said kindly, rewarding the animal with a few broad strokes of his hand across his velvety skin.
While breathing a sigh of relief, as the journey neared its end, the beast reared high into the air on its hind legs, tossing Aerinas off the saddle to the ground. He hit hard. The wind was beaten from his lungs; the horse tore off through the woods. Aerinas gasped for his breath while he pulled himself up using a nearby tree for support. His chest pounded and the forest grew silent. The horse's racket abruptly fell quiet. The bow was in hand, and an arrow drawn as the air forced its way back into his searching lungs. The stillness in the forest was reminiscent of the night he almost fell to the power of the wolves. His wariness had grown since then, and the steadiness returned to his hands. He slowly stepped forward. The light was fading fast, though not gone entirely. He did not have much time to reach the edge of the forest. What startled him? He thought frantically of the horse, which was almost certainly dead.
A blur shot past him to his left, and he turned quickly to try to catch the menace. Nothing. Another blur to his right. He steadily kept his bow ready and arrow eager to strike out on its own, to find prey. There! He thought he saw the shape of a large predator, a wolf maybe, a bear ... no, a man? Aerinas’ breathing increased and the familiar pounding in his chest returned as the chemicals sped through his blood that heightened his senses. And there, with another look, was the shape of a grimacing, salivating warrior dashing toward him, sword held high. Aerinas’ arrow sped from the bow to shatter his foe. Though pierced through the chest by the arrow, the adversary yet stood, as if shocked, then turned to dust. Aerinas quickly ran over to the spot where it was the moment before. Nothing but a small heap of dirt lay upon the ground with his arrow casually lying amidst. He picked it up, and saw neither blood smeared across the shaft nor pieces of flesh hanging from the head. Though his face would not tell, his mind was puzzled beyond belief. Fearing the worst, he put that arrow back and readied another. He now caught eye of a grizzly shape forty yards straight ahead of him. A bear, huge and broad-shouldered, stood up on its hind legs. Aerinas ran a few paces to the right, separating him from the bear even further. The bear took this as a sign of weakness, and fell to all fours and began charging after the elf. Aerinas began to run, but soon realized that the speed of the bear was far exceeding his own. He whirled around, and let another arrow slice the failing light. The bear growled in pain. Yet again the shape cracked, turned to dust and ash, and crumbled to the earth.
Aerinas could barely comprehend what was happening. Were the Enath-Hüdain upon him, or was it another force? The Enath-Hüdain were rumored to have terrible shape-shifting powers, and were the reason no one traveled this way. He suddenly realized his folly, and longed to turn back to join with Aeligon and the others. Even his father would be a welcome ally right now. He held up his fist to the sky and shouted, “Curse you, curse you for sending me here."
At those words, the forest seemed to come alive. Wolves faded into view, trees groaned and creaked as they swayed back and forth, and men with axes rose up from the ground around him. He shot arrow after arrow in desperation at them all, each enemy turning to dust, only to have another rise up in its place. When Aerinas ran out of arrows, he drew his sword and thrust it into the face of one who drew too close to him. The face dissipated, but it was only dirt from the earth. These beings were not anything more than that. Aerinas found himself in a most desperate situation. Thoughts of death were now claiming his mind, just waiting for who would succeed and tear him to bits. It was in that moment that he was grabbed tightly by a wet tentacle around his waist, and hoisted into the air. The creatures and beings around him froze in their steps, all of them suddenly blown to dust by some force. As Aerinas continued to be lifted up, a familiar voice called to him.
"Aerinas,” the voice said. “Do not be afraid, we were expecting you."
"Krüna?” Aerinas asked, surprised.
The thing that grasped him spun around his body, and he saw before him a terrible monster. Its appearance was foul and rancid, but while Aerinas looked upon its face in horror, his eyes widened. It was not a face of a monster at all. In fact, he could have called the face beautiful. He could see her hair, though it was muddy like the color of a tree's bark; it flowed and waved about like the flailing tentacles that wrapped him up tight. It was then that the familiar voice rang out to him.
"Now you see the answer to the question you asked me in your dreams, do you not?” Krüna asked him as the monster kept him suspended.
"Yes, I see,” he shouted at her. “But why? Why are you doing this to me? I thought you were a guide to me, a helper. What are these creatures that surround me?"
"They are my brothers and sisters, my people. Why do you fear us, who sheltered you from unfriendly eyes in the forest?"
Aerinas said, “So it was not my own good fortune that gave me a place to lay my head or build my fire? There was something else out there?"
"You are asking questions that already gave their answer to you, Aerinas."
"Then, if it was your people, why did you attack me just now? Why would you let me get within fifty paces of your lake before revealing your true forms?"
"We have no true forms, Aerinas,” she admitted at last, as if he already had not guessed by now. “We are the Enath-Hüdain, Earthbound Folk, Spirits of the Light, and keepers of all that is sacred upon, below, and above the Plane of Vaalüna. It is we who balance the world, who bring life to all within, and who see all. We are the blood of Sheevos, her protector and her shield. We follow in her steps to protect the earth from the Nether, the Shadow Plane."
Aerinas was all but speechless. The reality and breadth of what was being told to him was almost too much for his elfin mind to comprehend. In all the history of his people and the surrounding realms that he knew so well, he knew little of the Planes. He knew that the physical realm, the world that could be seen and touched, was called Vaalüna and encompassed all the lands and seas. It was the air he breathed and the ground he walked upon. It was the squirrel, the rabbit, and the sprite. What he could not fathom were the worlds beyond the boundaries of Vaalüna. In fact, no one to his knowledge could ever answer those questions. However, it seemed that those worlds could still be felt. He felt it at the Grove of Souls. The spirits and ghosts of his forefathers still dwelt there. And now the Enath-Hüdain were before him, spirit-borne and manifested in the Vaalüna Plane.
"Then, why am I here?” Aerinas finally asked, weary from struggling against the might of the tree's grip, and too exhausted from much travel. Before he fell unconscious, he saw the face of Krüna smile at him, and say, “To become..."
* * * *
* * * *
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 7—Of Kings and Giants
To some, men represented all that was wrong with the world. The Wars of Calaridis, the former name given to the surrounding lands during the Age of Darkness, brought many races of men down from distant lands. Celegraths were from the lands on the opposite side of the Farrin Mountains in the west. Volgoths were from the southern plains that lay beyond the White Falls. Worst of all, Senantor Pirates came from the seas in the north. These races and clans of men were savage. The Senantors were the least desirable foes, pursuing little more than loot or booty in exchange for their services.
Few of these tribes were loyal to anyone but their own. Yet, they aided unknowingly in the battles on the plains of Calaridis, after word of Hydrais’ attack
was received. Few races could stand alone against these murderers as successfully as the giants that thrived in the “Western rocks". (They were left without an official name during that time). It was in these battles that Farrin, the leader of the giants, led the charge against the rabid tribes, crushing them.
Then Hydrais, a clever and powerful warlock, dispatched an army of trolls from Sharumar across the land of Calaridis under the cover of darkness to intercept the giants. Trolls were large beings, similar in stature to giants themselves, but had regenerative qualities and dark weaponry. The trolls were unleashed upon the giants unexpectedly, nearly destroying Farrin's entire army. When all hope had seemed to fade away, Farrin rallied his remaining force, driving them forward against the trolls. It was Farrin who kept them occupied long enough to allow the wizards to break the covering spell that shielded the foul beasts from the fatal sun. Once the cloud cover dissolved, little was needed of the giants’ axes; the sun used its own blades to hew down the entire rank of Sharumar's damnation. The trolls and savages were defeated, and Farrin returned to his mountain home, a hero. The mountains and downs upon which the battles were fought were given his name, and forever more would stand in permanent testimony to the war's turning point. Soon after, Hydrais was defeated at El-Caras.
With time's passage, Calaridis was broken up among the many different races of folk. Races of civilized men moved into the foothills in the shadows of the Farrin Mountains. The elves returned to their woodland homes in Anwarna. The wizard city, Lünathar, was rebuilt in the land of Salanthanon.
Out of this ever-changing age, kings were born and sworn into reign; law and order was restored to all regions. The elves created the House of Lythardia, named after the captain of the Elvish forces who aided in the opposition of Hydrais. The wizards reformed the Order of Light, named for the light that shone down on Sharumar's Trolls.
A king was born in Vaalüna, an apt name for the former Calaridis (one translation of which meant “Drained Earth"), who was said to change the course of life throughout the entirety of all the realms. His name was Hrathis Thameon, sworn protector of Vaalüna. He took oath to protect all lands and peoples. Armies were stationed in every part of the realms including Anwarna, Merchindale, and even Dunandor. One such keep was the Drezdain Keep, named after the general who commanded King Hrathis’ army there. The keep lay just outside the borders of Dunandor, near the Ünodin Pass, under the shadows of the Dragon Mountains. There, Drezdain made war with any and all forces that tried to slip through the Ünodin Pass into Merchindale. During the rebuilding of Vaalüna, many scattered clans of orcs and goblins still caused havoc in the surrounding regions. Pillaging and burning as they went, they sought to avenge their lost leader, Hydrais.
Chronicles of the Planeswalkers Page 13