“Yes, yes they are. What would you do with so many things that you cannot use, may I ask?” Gwenne wondered how the dragon of such epic proportions could even manage to make use of many of the items she saw.
“One thing about dragons, young Lazlette, we have an inner craving for collecting. Art, poetry, magic, jewels, it matters little as to what it really is. But to have them, to own them, and to share and take pride in that which is collected is of great importance to many of us; as is giving them away from time to time, depending on the dragon in question of course. Do not worry, for the invauable scroll that we must leave here and discuss, you all will be content with what I have for you in return.” Ansharr grinned at the smile that crossed Gwenne’s face at the mention of perhaps gaining one of these items for herself.
The young master student of the arcane turned to the dragon, struggling to take her eyes off of the vast stockpile of treasures she desired to know more about. “We are in your debt already, and you honor us with more. How can we repay you, Ansharr?”
“That scroll is far more valuable, to me anyway, than much of what I have. Besides, as you said young Lazlette, what use do I have for such things? Come, let us gather the others and talk of what it is exactly that you are leaving behind here in Soujan Mountain.” the enormous and ancient red wyrm stepped toward the center of her haven as the sun shone in from the west and set the room aglow.
“Ansharr, may I return someday and learn from you some of those mysterious lost powers of the arcane that they say only dragons know of?” Gwenneth was not certain the myths of her arcane histories were true, but her curiosity could not be contained any longer.
“Of course young Lazlette, in fact I will send you with a tome of mine. It is written in my language, which you will have to learn to read and speak, but it has some spells that no human would have ever seen. As long as you promise to keep it secret.” the great old dragon smiled at the young ambitious wizard, knowing full well it would take years for her to understand the draconic tongue and even longer for her to learn the arcane passages. She saw little harm in it, as many high elven wizards knew of these enchantments as well.
“You have my word, great dragon. Thank you so very much.” her green eyes lit with anticipation at learning of things her mother and the academy could only dream of.
The dwarf had finished his prayers on the mountaintop plateau, Lady T’Sarrin was walking in beside him while admiring her longblade, and the men were busy cleaning their blades and armor. Saberrak stood near the cavern wall, by a magicked sconce, reading the scroll that lay out before him. His brow looked focused and confused at what he was seeing in the ancient words. Ansharr laid down next to the minotaur with her head held high. Gwenneth walked by James and Cristoff, shaking her head as she looked at the horned warrior trying to read the scroll of Annar.
“How long has the brute been trying to read that?” Gwenne asked James with her usual air of superiority.
“Trying? He has been up for hours, sometimes with tears I think, a few moments of anger, and several instances where he was speaking aloud in a language I have never heard. He is reading it, Lady Lazlette. How, I do not know, but I assure you he indeed understands it.” Sir James looked up from his trimmed beard and waves of short hair and stared right at her with complete seriousness.
“Tis true, Gwenneth. I have watched him as well, he is nearly finished with it.” Lord Cristoff stood from his cleaning and motioned his hand toward Saberrak the gray. “His eyes turned a strange blue an hour ago, then he turned his back to us once he realized we noticed.”
“Doubtful he can understand it, in fact it is impossible.” Gwenne flicked her dark hair over away from her face, angered that the minotaur would fake such things in front of them. She knew full well that not even Kalzarius could read that scroll without the aid of many arcane spells that could translate the old tongue, and even then it had taken nearly a month to read it through with limited understanding. Saberrak reading it in a few hours was nothing save ridiculous to the prodigal wizard.
“Good morning my brave travelers, I will have food brought in a moment from my friends below in the mountain. I hope you all slept well.” Ansharr’s voice was low and pleasant as a lovely maiden on a spring day.
Saberrak turned to the dragon and slowly rolled up the scroll. He was silent, deep in thought, and when he finished carefully returning the parchment around the stone spindle he reluctantly handed it to the outstretched hand of the red dragon. They bowed slightly to each other at the same time, both understanding why the scroll of Annar had to remain here out of the hands of men, forever.
“This scroll is to remain here, deep under the mountain where it will be protected with other holy relics and artifacts for all time. After all you have been through on its behalf, it is only polite to pass on to you as to why this is.” Ansharr placed the scroll in front of her clawed hands on the stone and lowered her head level with the eyes of the six men and women present. “Saberrak, would you care to tell them?”
All five of his companions looked at him, the men with patience, the dwarf and the elf with awe that she thought he could explain it, and the wizard with disdain and pessimism for even the thought of it. The horned warrior looked back at them, his arms crossed and body leaning along the stone wall of the cavern. “The scroll was not just a history of the one known as Annar, son of Megos; it was a last testament of his will to the one he chose to give it to. I assume that one, would be me. I do not know how I can read it, but this Carician language, well…it’s like I have known it my whole life, but I do not recall ever learning to read or speak it. In fact, I never saw writing I could understand because I was never taught, but this I can read perfectly.”
“Prove it then, minotaur.” the daughter of the lady of Lazlette challenged him, hoping a little pressure would show his arrogance and false words to all present.
“Let him speak Gwenneth.” Shinayne placed her hand on the wizard’s shoulder, sensing she was envious, angry, and impatient.
Saberrak looked at Gwenneth, knowing she did not believe him, and rightfully so from where he had come from. “The Gods you all worship, it says, are not truly Gods in the true sense of the word; they are descended from them. It says that Yjaros, the creator and God of the green moon Gimmor, created for himself a Goddess, a companion, to sit with him and watch the moons, the sun, and the world revolve around them. This Goddess, Seirena, bore him a child they named Megos who brought forth the magicks of the elements and basked in the reflected rays of the white moon, Carice. Carice, in fact, was created by Yjaros for Megos, his first born son it says here. Something happened, these tens of thousands of years ago, and Megos grew fond of his mother and she bore him several children, unknown to Yjaros that they were not his. Forty four she gave birth to in all it said, the throne angels of the green moon, the first race of the Gods. Seven of them were secretly by her own son. Alden, Annar, Vasentanesa, Siril, Vundren, Haddius, and Solumet.” he paused, knowing that the words came that flowed from recent memory would possibly offend some of his allies here.
“So you mean to tell me, us, that those we worship are incestuous offspring of mythical figures of history and forgotten pagan worships? I find that hard to believe, and I am sure Shinayne and Azenairk share that feeling with me. Alden is the Lord of Heaven, he is God, no offense dwarf.” James spoke softly, but with a stern truth from his religious upbringing.
“None taken, human. Vundren knows the truth as it is. Go on Saberrak.” Zen was feeling the same as James on the matter, but just more reserved than the veteran knight.
“So it says, when the God and creator of all discovered this, he banished the Goddess to the earth forever and took one of her eyes, placed it in his forehead so that he could watch her always, and set out to destroy the bastard children. That was the first exodus, when Megos gathered his children and fled to the white moon.” Saberrak paused, understanding half of what he said, yet it flowed like he had always known it.
“The only exodus I read of was when the children of Alden, mankind, fled from the Altestan empire and were hunted down for worshipping him. When Alden had his wings tore from him and the feathered cross was-“
“James, I believe you. But it says there, by account of Annar himself, that it was the third exodus where that happened. The second was when the elves, dwarves, dragons, giants, and men who followed the Goddess secretly fled south across the ocean and discovered this land. The continent welcomed them, and kept them hidden here for thousands of years.” the minotaur relayed what he had read, receiving the occasional nod from the dragon as to continue.
“So the ancient pagan God of strength and barbarism wrote this scroll? His worship faded when the southern savages were driven off and defeated long ago. I do not see how his words, if this is true at all, could hold sway or merit.” Cristoff voiced in, knowing some of the history referring to wars of the Agarian continent.
“Pagan? What does that mean?” the gray minotaur had not heard the word until this morning.
“It means the worship of old Gods, usually religions that had many in a group of sorts. Heathens, barbarians, false worship, and they usually have rites and practices that any civilized man would deem savage or wicked. The pagan religions are just this, history. They are gone since the unified church of Alden drove their hedonistic ways from our lands long ago.” James was quick to answer, not liking the blasphemies that the scroll entailed to begin with and hoping this was over soon.
“Then it would seem, since this group of throne-angel-children or whatever they are, are all related, is that not pagan?” Saberrak was confused, since he had read beyond a doubt that they all came from the same mother and father and fled together.
“Those words would have you killed in many kingdoms, Saberrak. That is heresy and blasphemy. Alden gave his wings for man and suffered greatly, he is the one true God. I will listen, as you are my friend, but be careful not to repeat your words outside of here.” the knight looked at his feathered cross, the symbol of God, and prayed silently for the forgiveness of whoever wrote the scroll and for the one reading it.
“Regardless, the creator sought revenge, and pronounced many of his children lords of hell, death, the night, and many other dark elements of the world. He plagued the creations of his rebellious son and wife, and began to destroy the temples that were raised in their names with the help of another woman that Annar did not mention the name of. That is when is says Alden, was torn by the throne angels of Gimmor, and when Annar gave his immortality to protect him. Annar writes of his imprisonment deep under the ground, and his visions. He says he saw the Carician temples destroyed and replaced by Gimmorian ones while he was chained, and that his worshippers could no longer pray to him and faded. His mother, also of the earth, kept him alive with her essence from afar, which shone through his eyes as a blue light, the only light he had for thousands of years. His curse was slavery, an enslavement that could only be undone, by a slave. So it is written there anyway.”
“Saberrak, continue.” Ansharr nudged him.
“The light that is passed is the immortal power, the spirit of the God himself. Supposedly, I now have it in me.”
Everyone looked at Saberrak, then to James. They had seen the blue light from them both in some fashion, and knew they had both shared the story of a man with blue glowing eyes beneath Arouland. There was silence, uneasy and uncomfortable as the minds of all present sought answers within themselves as to the validity to such claims. Only Cristoff spoke to break the lack of any noise in the cavern.
“So then, the exodus, or three, are over. So what is the purpose of this scroll?”
“There are two more. Annar wrote that he empowered this parchment with certain phrases that would pass on his power to one being, to build him a temple and make him known again. That will signify the fourth exodus, where he is allowed back to the white moon, yet not as a God any longer. It also mentions that this will cause a great war with the creator. Then a fifth exodus will occur as the old ways of the Gimmorians are brought down, and their people seek refuge in the holy lands to the south.” the minotaur paced, still trying to fathom what it all meant. He concluded that it was of little importance to him, for now anyway.
“The holy land is in the north, the first temples of Alden that still stand in Altestan, Khi’ Va to be precise. They are ancient and protected as holy sites, one of which is where he lost his wings and ascended to heaven. It makes no sense, what holy places are there here on Agara?” James was fighting his frustration at all he had studied at the church in Chazzrynn.
“Annar says that his brother’s wings were torn on this continent, and there is a gorge where proof is buried. Perhaps what you have grown to believe is not true, James. Either way, it says much to the fact that many will not believe what is written, though I have no reason to doubt it. As I am now the carrier of the will of Annar, it is written that I must see certain things done. To prove it, I must have the touch of the Goddess upon my brow and some undeniable truth will appear. Whether it is true or not, and whether you believe it or not, I will do as I was asked in the scroll and rebuild a temple to Annar someday. I feel that I must, though I do not like the fact that something is making me feel against my will. This is probably just nonsense anyway, but for some reason I am repeating it.” the horned gladiator walked toward the entrance to get some sun on his hide. He had shared enough for today, but had left out much detail of the stories in the scroll. Particularly the fact that this task, assigned to only him since he was imbued with the will of Annar, would claim his mortal life. Saberrak thought it best not to share those details at the present time.
“Well then, until you find a way to construct a temple to a forgotten God of savages, we should talk of traveling west. Azenairk needs our help and-“ James was cut off as Saberrak approached him quickly.
“He was also the God of giants, men, the ogre, and my kind it said! Why must what you were taught be the only way? Tell me James Andellis, tell me why you are so against anything different? Why would someone of far more belief and wisdom than me, be so set against the chance that this could be true? Is the idea that the devils and demons, saints and angels, Gods and whatever all being from the same creator or family is so disturbing that you have to ridicule me for reciting what I read?!” Saberrak got right in the knight’s face with his own, angry that he defied the only knowledge of religion or history the minotaur had ever heard.
James reached up his hand to Saberrak’s head and smiled. “Yes, it is offensive, and far from any truth I have ever heard. I think all that reading it has filled your head with too much-“
The light from the hand of James Andellis glowed as bright as a blue sun, and melded with the same blue light that rose from the eyes of Saberrak. James had reached up to touch the head of his minotaur companion in jest as he spoke, but then it happened. Neither man had tried to cause it to happen, nor was aware of it. The light was blinding to everyone present, even Ansharr had to turn away. Warm and tingling, louder than any sound, but a sound of perfect peace and harmony that could not be described with any words erupted in the cavern. Cristoff dove for cover behind a stalagmite, shielding his eyes with his hands. Shinayne and Zen fell to the ground and covered their heads and ears. Gwenneth crouched low, squinting and holding her staff, trying to mutter an incantation to protect them, but no words came from her mouth. The dragon turned her neck away, attempting to do much the same as the wizard and bring forth arcane energies to shield them, but even her powers failed. Saberrak stared at James, who stared back, the two of them not believing what was happening, nor understanding it. The glow lasted for an eternity, but was over in moments.
Each of them heard words, many words in booming yet soft tones, each of them save Gwenneth and Saberrak who heard nothing. The light was gone, sound returned from the vacuum of noise that had been there, and everyone looked at one another. It was as if heaven itself had just descended upon them, spoke, and was gone a moment later. It wa
s an undeniable truth.
“Did everyone hear that?” Shinayne spoke first, looking around the ceiling for where the light or noise had gone.
“I heard something in dwarven, it was a man’s voice.” Azenairk replied, touching the stone wall to see if it felt different, or if he felt different.
“I heard words in draconic, they told me little, but I heard them sure enough.” Ansharr looked to Shinayne, James, and Cristoff who were all nodding in agreement of hearing a voice.
“I heard nothing. You are all under a spell or something of a powerful nature. I will do my best and try to have it removed.” Gwenneth had heard nothing, cared not to, just to see what matter of potent arcane energies had just erupted and how. She focused her arcane sight, and saw the auras from the treasury of Ansharr. She saw glows from the scroll, but nearly gone now, and from various things that her allies carried. Gwenneth Lazlette put all her will and concentration into her power of sight, but there was nothing, not even a trace of what had just happened. She was speechless, for that was impossible.
“I heard nothing, but I felt what I must do inside, like a silent voice that was beyond sound. My voice.” Saberrak bowed to the ceiling, to something, he knew not what but did so anyway.
“The voice I heard in Agarian was the voice of God.” James was tearing, his hand shaking, confused to say the least. “But it was a woman? That is not possible, is it? Why did I hear a womans voice?”
“Mine was in Agarian as well Sir James, but it was definitely a man’s voice, almost childlike.” Lord Cristoff got on his knees and bowed his head.
“What did yours say to you, what did you hear, Lord Bradswellen?” James felt like breaking down and forgetting this whole thing. He wanted to go to church and confess this occurrence, as he felt that he had sinned by just being here. He felt that this was some form of witchcraft or demonic power, or that he was cursed. He breathed deeply, trying to remain calm as the shadows of the clouds passed over the light of the sun, darkening the cavern once more.
The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns Page 25