The Tale of Onora: The Boy and the Peddler of Death

by Dylan Saccoccio

  The bitter irony is that the Western World was molded by the tyranny from the Old World. Had it not been for the black deeds of Woden Caliph, the Western World wouldn’t have been driven to such a ruthless way of life. If one were curious as to who died and made Woden king, the answer was simple. Everyone.

  Olwyn empathized with the Oussaneans. King Woden destroyed her Nordic ancestors and established the Knights Lerretheur, a secret order of paladins and magi to police and restrict the practice of equipoise. With so much of the population out of harmony with itself, Olwyn understood that if the westerners didn’t engage in imperialism, they would cannibalize themselves. But she was not foolish. She understood well that the Oussaneans would not spare her just because she shared a common enemy with them. In a foreign land with only vengeance to sustain them, the Oussaneans would see every creature that moved as an enemy.

  The most punishable offense in Caliphweald was the practice of blood magic, a type of equipoise in which casters used power inherent in their blood to fuel their spells. Blood magic is often the most effective type of equipoise for stealing the health of others and using it to regenerate the health of the caster and his allies. It is the prerequisite necessary to engage in necromancy.

  Necromancers originally used blood magic to summon the deceased for the purpose of foretelling future events or discovering hidden knowledge. It originated when adept magi learned how to summon the spirits of the dead as apparitions. It was initially used conservatively, only in times of necessity, whether it was during droughts, famine, or plagues.

  As with all tools of creation, eventually a wicked heart learned to perform such wizardry for nefarious designs. It was not long before necromancers were able to raise the dead in bodily form, summoning their rotted corpses to do their bidding.

  A necromancer with a talent for Wakan would have no trouble raising a dead army of minions and sustaining it with healing spells. The types of problems it confronted society with were calamitous, as an army of the dead was more dangerous than an army of the living. Any mage that used the forbidden arts including, but not solely restricted to the practice of blood magic, was labeled as a talawaith, one who has fallen.

  It was impossible for the King or his shadow government to keep track of all the magi throughout Caliphweald. A solution to this challenge was to allow the formation of a governmental body that regulated and restricted the practice of equipoise, but welcomed the addition to all those who possessed the desire and talent to become a mage. This body of government became known as the Order of M’elzar. The King imposed a tax to fund and sustain the Order of M’elzar under the guise that it was a necessary institution for protecting the citizenry of Caliphweald. It was a tax that made life evermore uncomfortable for the workingman, and as a result most people harbored disdain for all magi and were eager to report them to authorities.

  Those that were truly passionate about their journey of self-discovery and enlightenment, in becoming a mage and exploring the nature of all things, found the Order of M’elzar to be nothing more than an inhibiting prison system for their craft. Many of these magi fled the order and chose a solitary life where they were free to practice what they wanted without the confines of an academic reformatory. These magi were called turncloaks. They were thought of as traitors and rogues. Originally the term was only reserved for those who willfully deserted the Order of M’elzar, but over time those who practiced equipoise outside of M’elzaran law were labeled turncloaks. Most turncloak magi are not dangerous unless provoked to defend themselves, but the Knights Lerretheur made no distinction between the turncloaks and the talawaiths.

  If a mage practiced equipoise outside the governing laws, each paladin in the Knights Lerretheur was well within his legal right to kill or capture the spellcrafter. The Knights Lerretheur are groomed to believe that turncloaks are close enough to becoming talawaiths that it makes no difference, and thus hunt them equally. A renowned talawaith was certain to be killed on sight.

  Most of the magi who fled the provinces under the Royal Family’s rule headed to the vast wilderness in the western regions of the steppe. While many of them would stay out of the imminent war, they certainly would not be returning home to defend it from the westerners.

  Olwyn feared that the talawaiths with nothing to lose would surely return alongside the Oussaneans with the sole purpose of destroying everything that had a hand in them being cast away. They would have no regard for life, as there is a certain accountability that accompanies the guilt of everyone who actively or passively allowed the Royal Family to persecute those gifted at equipoise.

  Some argue that an eye for an eye would leave the entire world blind, that everyone has a choice in how they react to life. Others argue that to kill or be killed is a necessary evil in the vicious cycle of mobs and nations. Regardless of which side of the moat one stands on, Maebelfry was the ripest fruit on the tree, and evil was hungry. Olwyn knew her city was next to be plucked.

  She had little to no experience in dealing with the cultures outside of the kingdom. She grew up in Drudgekreath, the quarter of Maebelfry designated to the Nordic Elves by Woden Caliph after he mistakenly destroyed their land in the far north. Perhaps mistakenly is not the right word. After all, the first casualty of war is always the truth.

  Maebelfry and Crownspire were governed directly by His Majesty. Their populations are mostly Caliphian, a race of elfin people who are mediocrely talented at just about every craft ranging from artisanry to agriculture to merchantry. Olwyn had seen members of different races travel to the city for commerce, but they adhered strictly to Caliphian customs and languages for such endeavors. Since she was unfamiliar with the etiquette of other cultures, the thought of immersing herself in a foreign one with a newborn child was incredibly daunting.

  The Royal Family allowed the once noble Drudgekreath to rot into the slums of the present day. Olwyn was born into the aftermath. King Woden’s descendants did not share the same sympathy for the Nordic Elves that he did. They felt no regret or responsibility for his actions, and over time they forgot his atrocities and their family’s indebtedness to the Nords. Perhaps forgot is not the right word. It is difficult for one to pretend that he cares about someone when he truly doesn’t. It was much easier for the Caliphians to look the other way, and like glacial runoff choosing the path of least resistance, so too did the Caliphians.

  Pushed to the edge of extinction, the Nordic Elves were superior in all things productive, especially equipoise. The Royal Family feared that the Nords posed a threat to the crown, a wise man’s fear perhaps.

  Before exposure to the parasitical nature of Caliphians, the Nordic Elves thrived because of their reverence for individualism. They joined no collectives. They did nothing in secrecy. They believed they were only as strong as their weakest citizen, as a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. They did not support those who refused to take responsibility for their lives. It fostered an economic system in which no one relied on the handouts of others. They waited for no saviors. They loved everyone the same, all things equal. They shared knowledge and skills freely. They lived for everything yet died for nothing. To die for a cause was a disgrace.

  Those who wanted war were the ones who had to pay for it with their own money and fight it themselves. They were forced to either lead the charge or silence their desire for battle. If someone was too old to fight, he must send his children in his place or cease his support for the war. The Nords knew that vengeance was a natural right for everyone. Vengeance is hell. They expected retribution from anyone that they attacked. There was no provocation of wars amongst their people. Every single conflict was voted on through direct democracy. This allowed them to know peace. They knew prosperity. They knew equality. They knew freedom. They knew harmony. They did not, however, know the depths in which wicked hearts would stoop in their quest for power.

  Olwyn longed to be with her own kind. As she reminisced about her family, she was tantalized by the thought of Dregon
City within the Grimridge Mountains. The Dregons would no doubt give her shelter once they recognized her Nordic blood. Long ago, they shared this common trait. Were she and the baby to survive, she could flee to the north in a few months’ time.

  During the Nordic Genocide, the Elves that escaped to the Grimridge Mountains bound their tribe to Earth Magic. They forever attuned themselves to survive in environments where Caliphians could not. The decision was not an easy one to make, nor was it a prudent one. It was the only one. They became known as the Dregons, creatures of sediment, and they resembled nothing of their former heritage save for the memories of their ancestors. Were they not to reveal themselves, one might mistake them for the rugged landscape.

  Though Olwyn yearned to be in the mountains, a trek to Dregon City was not plausible. The baby couldn’t survive exposure to the elements of Perilcreek Trail, the main trade route from Crownspire to Grimridge Summit.

  To the southeast, as far away from Dregon City as its difference in elevation, the Nabian Bailiwick overlooked the atolls of the Lost Coast, where the Caliphian Sea swallowed the Grimridge Mountains. The seawater naturally filtered itself through the rocky bluffs as it ascended into the forest and created an enormous fountain of fresh, clean water. The Bailiwick, located on the edge of the Eidolon Woods and protected by The Great Faelen Tree’s magic, was Caliphweald’s sacred source of water and so King Woden built his empire around it.

  The Nabian River flowed from the Bailiwick all the way to the Steppe’s southwest region. There, Lake Aryalus abounded with the Bailiwick’s water until it grew to be the largest accessible body of it in all of Caliphweald. Standing lakeside, one shore could not be seen from another.

  Olwyn recalled the view from atop the Grimridge Mountains during the times her husband and she had stolen away. It was there that she beheld the union of fire and water twice a day.

  Each morning the sun was born out of the Caliphian Sea. In the morning it bid farewell to its reflection to go play in the sky. In the afternoon it grew mature and settled west. As it reached old age, the weary sun fell towards the horizon. It came face to face with its light one last time as it impaled itself upon the crests of waves. Every night the sun watched itself die in the mirror of Lake Aryalus. As Olwyn beheld the panoramic view of Caliphweald, she ruminated what it would be like to live near the Bailiwick, in the City of Yanta.

  Yanta started out as a small underground settlement that the Nordic Elves used to hide from Woden Caliph. They employed destruction magic to carve underground networks that stretched vast distances from Yanta to Lake Aryalus, to Dregon City, and to Amori Village. Everything was perfect until Woden Caliph used his power to manipulate the weather and melt the polar ice caps in an effort to flush out his enemies that fled to the far north, The Crown of the World. It inadvertently caused the sea level to rise and the Bailiwick to overflow, which flooded most of the caverns and underground networks. Half of its cavernous territory became submerged under water.

  Once again, the Nordic Elves were confronted by mortality. The survivors could have emerged topside and surrendered their lives and freedom to The Knights Lerretheur. But they didn’t. They chose to bind themselves to water magic. It was the only way they could survive underwater and make use of the city that they worked so hard to create.

  Water magic changed the Nordic Elves’ appearance dramatically. The ones that were believed to inhabit Yanta were never seen again, and although their presence was suspected, the paladins and M’elzar magi had no way of accessing the Bailiwick, for it was impossible to access the Nabian lands without making the pact to bind oneself to their magic. Once complete, there would be nowhere else to go. Being permanently stranded, as the lone enemy in a hostile environment, was not exactly a proposition that any Caliphian would be willing to make, and sending good men that would be either slaughtered or forced to become traitors was not a proposition that any king would be willing to make. No one despised a turncloak more than Woden Caliph, and it was known well in his kingdom that rats did not live long; hence the reason there was never a plague in his house.

  Over time, Woden’s heart became occupied by something else entirely, and so the Nords were left alone. Shortly thereafter, in the most significant tradeoff of all time, Woden returned The Trivium and relinquished his godlike powers in an unprecedented sacrifice of power in pursuance of love. The result ended the persecution of all Nords. Over time, the Nabians made their presence known in Lake Aryalus and other bodies of water that connected to the Bailiwick. As the Caliphians discovered this aquatic race, they referred to them as the fish people.

  Olwyn was well aware of the alliance that existed between the Dregons, the Amori, and the Nabians. The Dregons and the Amori were allowed unfettered access to the Nabian Bailiwick. Both races protected it as fiercely as the Nabians did.

  The Nabians shared their access to pure water and their supply of seafood with their allies. The Dregons, being the only race of the three that could travel anywhere topside, provided an immeasurable assortment of goods from markets all over the world. They protected the northern region of the Bailiwick, and if ever the Nabians or the Amori faced a threat from the Steppe, the Dregons were sure to descend upon that threat like an avalanche.

  The Amori traded everything with the Nabians and Dregons from art to instruments, herbs, recipes, weapons, spices, potions, and raw materials. They contributed to their allies the bounties that were only produced by the Eidolon Woods. The most revered of these forest bounties was Arthond, a golden root, and Xindarl, a type of hemp that had yielded the most nutrient dense seeds in the world.

  Xindarl had countless applications from being used to make rope and fabric to being used to make milk and synthetic wood. The most popular of its applications was as a hallucinogen. Whether it was smoked or consumed orally, Xindral was a panacea. It healed the body physically as much as it healed the mind spiritually, and consuming it was quite a popular pastime in Caliphian society.

  Caliphians coveted Arthond because of its anti-inflammatory properties, its ability to shrink tumors, and its power to cleanse the body of toxins. Some people risked their lives to venture into the Eidolon Woods and harvest these products themselves so that they could avoid paying the high premiums for these Eidolon exports.

  The Amori were never at odds with the Crown, but they were weary of the silver-tongued nature of Caliphians, especially Woden, who enticed them to leave the Shade and return with him to Caliphweald.

  Olwyn had never seen an Amori in person. She only knew what paintings and stories allowed her to imagine. They were superior with their wilderness skills and their ability to warp on the wind. To fight an Amori under the protection of a faelen tree is to fight a ghost, a god even.

  Once Antebellum was restored, Woden Caliph greatly rewarded the Nabians and the Dregons in his search for forgiveness. He made the cities of Yanta and Dregon tax-exempt and granted all Nabians and Dregons allodial title to their property, but never his own subjects. Woden also allowed the governance of Dregon City, Amori Village, and Yanta to be independent of Caliphweald and to remain free from all rule of law but their own. It allowed the Nabians, Amori, and Dregons to use competing currencies and trade freely. It created a market that produced a relatively peaceful and prosperous period. In exchange, Jarl Marduk, the Nabian patriarch, allowed those with decree from the Royal Family to enter the Bailiwick.

  Olwyn longingly gazed toward the lush narrows of eastern Caliphweald. Though the Nabians paid for it in blood, Yanta was paradise. She knew the Nabians would not take kindly to topsiders without proof of a royal connection, and alas, she had none.

  Further east, the Nabian Narrows opened up to the Lost Coast and the Caliphian Sea. The port cities were dangerous. Free trade with the Nabians attracted all kinds of charters from the Old World. The commerce was so great that the Jarl Marduk was forced to commission the Royal Navy for protection.

  Merchants weren’t the only ones from the Old World that were allured to the Lost Co
ast. Like the smell of an open wound to wolves in the middle of winter, free trade enticed buccaneers from the Old World as well. Olwyn could not venture to any of the port cities. The threat of being kidnapped and sold into slavery was too great a risk.

  Olwyn turned around to weigh her alternatives. She faced the darkness of the western wilds that she knew to be the birthplace of the Lunaega Province. It was where fertile land gave way to a desert that married an ocean. It was the homeland of the Oussaneans.

  When Woden Caliph used the power of The Trivium to defeat the Oussanean Brotherhood, he placed a fertility curse upon the entire population of Lunaega. The Oussaneans with the misfortune to be in their homeland during Woden’s onslaught had their Y chromosomes destroyed by radioactive spells. Not only did his sorcery eradicate the male species of Oussaneans, but also it brought about the destruction of a once pure race of warriors. A male Oussanean is born only once every century as a result of his black art.

  The female Oussaneans were forced to procreate with Caliphians in order to evade extinction. Eventually all the men of their race died off, and so they subsequently groom the lone male that is born each century to be king.

  Olwyn was aware that a male Oussanean currently lived in the second decade of his life. Perhaps the timing of his battle-ripe age coincided with the Oussanean’s eastern campaign, as there would not be another male to lead them for seven to ten decades.

  The entire Oussanean race became primarily female, transitioning themselves from a proud race of warriors into a race of thieves. They were the heirs to the night, experts in espionage, sabotage, assassinations, and stealth. An Oussanean on horseback, armed with a bow and a large quiver, could handle a whole company of male soldiers by herself. They accumulated more wealth using subterfuge than they ever did waging physical wars, and thus became one of the wealthiest races in the world despite the lack of natural resources in their desert wastelands and their strategic marriages into politically affluent families around the world staved off invasions.