by C A Oliver
According to Miglor’s theory, the college of the Ruby is to blame for this spoilage of the Islands’ Flow. He thinks that the high mages of Gwarystan wish to deprive us of our access to the forces of nature around us. As for me, I have felt an even mightier power at work, as if the Greater Gods themselves have been influencing our fate.”
There was a silence. At length, the Arkylon spoke again.
“I knew of the Elves of Cumberae’s perils, but I had not yet grasped the extent of the despair they felt. Let me appease the trouble in your heart with words of wisdom.
Remember the legends of our mythology... After the genesis of Oron, each Gweïwal received his own realm to rule. After millennia of devastation, the chaos was ended. Zenwon received the sky, Agadeon received the underworld, Narkon received the fiery inner core of Oron, and Uleydon received the seas. Since that time, the Greater Gods have avoided openly influencing the fate of the world, because breaking their vows would mean confronting the entire Assembly of the Gods. None of them would dare risk that.”
After his pronouncement, the Arkylon looked directly at Terela, as if searching her mind. The princess of Cumberae endured his gaze with stoicism.
Looking back, Camatael now thought she was the strongest Elvin lady he had met during his youth in Gwarystan. He remembered when Terela was the most celebrated maiden of the court, meant one day to become Norelin’s bride. Since then, the daughter of Lord Dol Nos-Loscin had continued to think for others, protect others and sometimes sacrifice herself for others. She would have made a glorious queen.
After a pause, the Arkylon continued.
“It is true that, in our current times, great forces are at work. The fight for the control of the Islands’ Flow is an unprecedented conflict. For centuries, the college of the Ruby has exerted its considerable power to undermine the influence of the Islands’ deities. The College has undoubtedly eroded the power of the matriarchs. It even weakened that of our own Order, until it finally chased us away. The high mages of the Crimson Tower have concentrated the power of the Flow in their hands, and with that power they built the city of Gwarystan up to its current state of magnificence.
But there was a time when things were different. The Islands’ Flow used to circulate freely across the Islands. Created by the Gods and the deities, it could be found mostly in gemstones but also in natural surroundings. Its energy was available to all Elves, in accordance with their inherent abilities. The Gods had designed it so.
The College of the Ruby changed the order of things. First, they requested the Elves of the kingdom pay a tribute in exchange for the protection of the king’s rune. This tribute was their own just share of the Islands’ Flow. Not content with depriving the Gwarystan Elves of the benefits of Oron’s forces, the high mages found a way to distort and imprison those forces, to greatly limit its circulation, to the extent that the very source is now threatening to run dry.
Somehow, the college of the Ruby has recently gotten hold of a very rare material that has the unique property of trapping the Flow. A material that can contain it was previously thought inconceivable. Dark must have been the heart of the alchemist who unveiled that mighty secret…
What you are experiencing in Cumberae is the consequence of this most perilous finding.”
The Daughter of the Islands intervened. She thrust her antlers into the air. A deep suffering was in her voice and demeanour.
“For our forefathers, the natural world was given and defined. Elves would enjoy its bounties and endure its hardships. Its rhythms and weather cycles changed according to the mood of the deities.
What we are witnessing now is a first; some Elves, blinded by their pride, are actively shaping the world around them according to their will. They are usurping the role of the Gods.
In many regions of the Islands, extreme weather patterns are becoming increasingly common, resulting in more floods and droughts, more frequent forest fires and more disturbance of the ocean. This turmoil of the elements reached a peak earlier this year when a tidal wave destroyed the lower boroughs of Gwarystan.”
Myryae decided that the time had come for Llymar to express its own voice.
“The matriarchs saw this fearful future coming. We all knew that there was an obvious choice before us when confronting this threat: turn aside from the Elves of the Islands and defend Llymar’s borders alone or stand with Cumberae and submit to the Secret Vale.
We have decided to honour our alliance with House Dol Nos-Loscin and seek the Arkys’ protection. Our legacy will depend on the choices we are making now. We are willing to pay tribute to the Secret Vale with our share of the Islands’ Flow. May the Arkys use that power for the benefit of all.”
The Arkyllyi moved forward and gently took the matriarch’s hands.
“Have no fear, Myryae, daughter of Leyen dyl. Forget your grief for a while. You have made the right choice by placing your fate in our holy hands. There are many Elves in the Islands who are hoping for the realm that was promised. Wenti and Hawenti, we all are very different, but also very much alike. The seeds of Llyoriane are always bound to each other, sometimes in allegiance, sometimes in conflict. But our future is not finished and done. Every day, with every choice we make, the river of time runs into a delta of possible tomorrows.”
The Daughter of the Islands took over. Her deep voice expressed her concern, but also her higher authority among the matriarchs.
“But our support has one condition…
This we know: it was no common tidal wave which ravaged parts of Gwarystan this spring. The hurricane that struck the northern shores of Nyn Llyvary a few years ago was also deeply unnatural. Eïwal Ffeyn is trying to break free from his bonds. The storm deity has become dangerous and uncontrollable. We fear his wrath and his thirst for revenge. If he was freed, if the pearl whose mighty spell imprisoned the deity of Storms was returned to him, his destructive power could severely wound the Lost Islands. Eïwal Ffeyn’s retaliation would be blind and could shock the natural balance of the Archipelago forever. The Storm deity shows no mercy. Do you understand what I am saying?”
There was a silence as all imagined the havoc that Eïwal Ffeyn’s return would wreak.
At last, the Daughter of the Islands issued her order, her deep voice flooding the night like a waterfall cascading from a cliff.
“Our Order requests that the matriarchs of Llymar renounce the worship of Eïwal Ffeyn.”
Myryae had not been expecting such a demand, which sounded rather like an ultimatum to her ears. The Daughter of the Islands had just touched upon a sensitive issue, relating to the concepts of freedom and rebellion. The teachings of Eïwal Ffeyn were central to the Llewenti; the Storm deity’s message and role in the history of the Islands was the source of spiritual controversy between the old faiths, defended by the matriarchs, and the new cults which were promoted by the Secret Vale.
After the first years that followed the creation of their Order, the Arkys had used their wealth to develop the cult of the Llewenti deities; but not all the Islands’ divinities had found favour with them. The Arkys’ chief achievement had been to promote the faith in Lon the wise, whom they worshiped as the deity of Wisdom. The propagation of his teachings had aroused a sense of belonging to the ‘seeds of Llyoriane’, those Elves who, regardless of their origins, had searched with a true heart the promised Islands. For the first time since the coming of the High Elves, a genuine sense of community had prevailed. Hawenti and Llewenti could share the same pantheon and live in harmony.
The Arkys had managed to establish a new trust among all the Islands’ Elves by rejecting all reference to Eïwal Ffeyn, the mortal enemy of the High Elves.
Myryae stood frozen in front of her new masters. She worried that she did not have the authority to accept the Secret Vale’s additional condition, which had not been discussed before. It seemed to Camatael that the envoy of Llymar had no other choice but to agree.
Terela saw Myryae’s trouble. She must have been waitin
g for this moment of tension between the participants. When the princess spoke, she had the air of an Elf with a meticulous plan.
“When my father agreed to the alliance with Llymar and decided to call upon the protection of the Secret Vale, he asked me if I could convene a meeting in which the proposals of all parties could be debated.”
Camatael noted Terela’s carefully chosen words implicitly reminded those present of the collective need to pursue this alliance. He interpreted from her intervention that Cumberae was ready to bow before the Arkys. The young lord listened to what followed with attention. The princess was, without doubt, planning something. Grieving and brooding over the woes of Cumberae had strengthened her mind. Her eye was clear when she detailed her motives further.
“I deliberately chose to hold this meeting here, in these isolated ruins. An old temple dedicated to Eïwal Lon once stood on this spot. What better location, so full of history and symbolism, to celebrate the sealing of our vows? Would it not be like paying homage to those brave Elves who built it?
A few years ago, I conducted an expedition into the valley of Nargrond to discover the ancient site mentioned several times in the Lonyawelye. I wanted to understand why priests of Eïwal Lon had chosen to build a shrine in this location, during such a dangerous period. Why would servants of the deity of Light choose to erect a place of worship in the valley of Nargrond after its fall? The region had been conquered and sacked by the clan Myortilys, who still controlled it at the time of this temple’s construction…”
Nobody could fail to notice the change which had come over Terela. She was now speaking with striking resolve, and there was a strange fire in her eyes. The mere expression on her face conveyed the authority and leadership that had been vested in her on the day of her birth.
Camatael remembered that her mother had been the sister of Meoryne, from the House of Dol Valra. This made Terela no less than Eïwal Lon's first cousin.
The princess, it seemed, always operated with the steadiness of one who never doubts her own authority. Without exactly ordering anyone to come with her, Terela departed from the glade with such determination that all followed her footsteps without question.
In the warm night, the group moved along the path which led back to the compound till the clearing was far behind. The knights of the Secret Vale followed them at a distance, their long spears protecting their backs.
Once inside the temple’s boundaries again, Terela stopped in a stony area where a grassy ridge diverted a small stream. Amid the numerous boulders and stones, the Elves could see natural stairs covered in mud and weeds. The base of this staircase led to a small stone-paved area opening onto the ruins of a shrine dedicated to the Llewenti deity of war and hunting.
‘Ah,’ Camatael thought to himself. ‘The temple of Eïwal Lon was built on top of the ruins of several shrines, which had been defiled by the Dark Elves during the sack of Nargrond Valley. It explains the presence of Eïwal Vars’ symbols on these broken columns: a spear with an emerald blade, and his animal, the stag.’
As they continued towards the south, the main path joined a basalt staircase which led to another area paved with baked bricks. Parallel to the façade of the ruined Eïwal Vars temple, on the other side of the stone alley, stood what looked like a construction site made of wood and bricks. A container full of rubble stood in front.
Terela then turned towards the heart of the site and entered an underground passage which remained unobstructed. The group followed in silence.
They explored the tunnel, taking in the vastness of the hideout. Flickering fires leaped up and shadows danced across the rock.
Towards the bottom of the gallery, a trapdoor had been installed quite recently, and around it strong walls had been built, the stones expertly joined. Terela stopped and explained.
“When I last visited the temple of O Vaha, I directed my master builder and his retinue to clean up the ruins’ ground before laying the foundations of our camp. During their work, one of my workers, on breaking the ground with his pickaxe, struck upon something which, from the sound, he judged to be hollow underneath. After calling on another companion to clear away the loose earth with his shovel, they found a large brazen ring fixed to a flat stone, with ancient runes engraved thereon.”
Camatael came closer to the princess. The beginning of this tale had stimulated his curiosity. Still looking at the Arkylon as though he were the only character of interest, Terela went on with her story.
“The guards who made the discovery were Ice Elves. Their knowledge being limited to their own language; they could not decipher the powerful protecting glyphs. To their minds, the runes simply signified ‘the way to hidden treasures’. They started searching the grounds further, in that same area and around it. Their efforts were interrupted by a powerful blast. An intense light was released. The two Ice Elves were instantly killed. We later discovered their eyes had been burnt out, as if from exposure to an intensely powerful sun.
The incident obviously drew my attention and, upon inspecting the ancient runes, I discovered their association with the scriptures of Eïwal Lon.
I spent several long days pondering how to read the protective writings without triggering the explosives runes. At last, whilst praying to the deity of wisdom, I received an answer. I managed to remove the deadly glyphs.”
At this, the beautiful Arkyllyi spoke up, her voice soft.
“You are wise in the ways of Eïwal Lon, Princess Terela. That is no small feat you achieved… Your tale is indeed fascinating.”
Indifferent to the compliment, Terela resumed. “After my guards removed the fallen columns and the rubble, I conducted a survey of the grounds, where the foundations of an old courthouse lay buried. At this point, I discovered a hollow sound from a stone and, upon lifting it, I could see the secret subterranean passage. More powerful glyphs protected any access. The legendary runes of House Dol Nargrond covered the tunnel’s entrance…”
“It must have prevented you from going any further…” guessed the Arkyllyi.
“Surprisingly, it did not,” responded Terela with a smile. “Their power had waned. Someone had dispelled it,” she declared.
A silence followed. All were curious to know what happened next. The princess resumed.
“I then ordered the flat stone to be raised. Initially, my guards had difficulty finding any way into the hideout, but they eventually discovered a cavity.”
“It must have inflamed their desire to know what lay within?” suggested the Arkyllyo.
Her dry, sarcastic tone of voice betrayed her impatience.
“Indeed, they resolved to explore it. A fearless knight of the Rose attached himself to ropes and was lowered down by his companions. He reached the bottom without impediment and found a perfect arch opening into a vault. Broken iron doors lay strewn about the tunnel. They had to remove them and other structures blocking the way. For several days, my guards worked to pull up other stones to admit more light and air,” explained Terela.
“May we ask you what discoveries you made?” inquired the Arkyllyo, now failing to mask her impatience.
“Unfortunately, the main finding was simply unveiling the passage to the Vault…” revealed Terela. “We were not, as it turned out, the first to explore it…
Inside, there was nothing, but a few works of art and jewellery which had been ignored by those who had already penetrated the secret dungeon. But on examining the open keystone which used to block the way to the tunnel, I was surprised to find a well-known rune surrounded by ancient scriptures. I concluded that this dungeon was the Secret Vault of Rowë.”
The Arkyvars’s stolid demeanour began to disappear. Camatael could see it on his face, even by the torchlight. Terela’s earnestness was affecting him. He had perceived depths in her he had not suspected before. Indeed, her manifest sincerity and the sheer steadfastness of her attitude seemed to have made all the Arkys thoughtful.
“You will allow us to be the sole judges of this
conclusion,” instructed the Arkyvars.
Terela ignored the warlike note in his tone. “Indeed, your knowledge in these matters will be valuable. What I saw was the fallen material structures of a construction that was surely meant to be everlasting. For it was obvious, from everything we found, that this Secret Vault had been plundered long ago. Intruders, in their impatience to access the dungeon, destroyed much of the original masons’ labour, and abandoned it to the ravages of time.”
“It is indeed a pity that the wisdom of such workmanship and the beauty of the architecture have been so exposed to destruction and decay. Those architects must have taken great pains to build it,” regretted the Arkyllyi.
The Arkyllyo was not so accommodating. “Princess Terela, your faithfulness bespeaks your merit, and we do not doubt you are qualified for the highest responsibilities. We are surprised and disappointed, however, that you have instructed your master builder to carry out further works on this sacred site without referring to our higher authority. You will thus obey our injunction: you must report to us anything and everything you have found, or do find, in the original Vault of Rowë.”