23 Years Before – In the Year 1565
Jend looked down from the tower at what was still a considerable military force and wondered what chance they had of surviving the next two days. After the loss of the battle, he and Garaxas had managed to regroup his loyal orc and goblin armies. They’d gathered at Lagar’s Haven, a smugglers’ settlement with the ruins of a keep perched on the hill to its north. Jend and his army now worked to repair and fortify the keep as best they could. They didn’t have much time.
As Jend looked, he caught sight of a large black dragon to the west, landing near the camp where Jend knew Lothar’s forces were gathering for what they thought would be the final assault, to wipe out Jend and his army. Jend’s forces were massively outnumbered.
Jend looked to the sky, and the morning sun. "Sky Father, I have long served you, and I have not asked for anything. I ask now. Our cause is just, and it is to your glory. Grants us victory! And if you don't grant us victory, then to the hells with you."
- - - -
Up in the heavens, the gods watched.
"Did you see that guy in Left Earth? The nerve!" The Sky Father spoke to his wife as he pointed at Jend. "I love him! Let’s get the gods together and watch the battle."
The Sky Father decided to be wise and thought ahead for a moment. "Ahh, but, they will fight bravely, though, well…. Jend still doesn't know how to fight Lothar and Grelbus. He can’t counter their control of magic that brings rot. Rot with the corruption of death. "
The Great Mother agreed this time with her husband. "Yes, dear. It is an awful force, one I myself hate. We need to remove it from the earth. It is unnatural."
"Well, it looks like Jend won't be the one to remove it. It’s a shame. He had spirit. Or, Honey, what say we just kill Lothar now? Heart attack, maybe?"
"Sunshine, you know we shouldn't do that. Do I need to remind you that the whole point of the earths was to give the new souls free will, to let them find themselves? If we start interfering, then what’s the point?" asked the Great Mother.
"We could do just a very small intervention. Send a few creatures over to help.”
He thought for a moment as He looked over the land and seas. “What about your crazy tree-hugging elves? They got kicked out again, no? Aren't they floating close by? Sending them by wouldn't be that much interference."
"True, and that isn't a bad idea. Jend and Aida would be cute together."
"It’s unbelievable that they are fleeing again, anyway. I thought you'd suggested the Ushos Confederacy to them. Your temples are very strong there."
"Yes, I had thought that my priests would take care of some of my most devoted followers. But as soon as Aida started talking about how you could know the will of the gods without priests or temples or even books, the entire temple management turned on them. They almost burnt Emmyth in the main square of Riseu. Only two from the temple joined Aida as they hired the ship and fled. You already know all of this, Raindrop, but thank you for bringing it up again.
The Sky Father grinned. “So we could do just a small intervention. Very small. The mortals will hardly notice,” He proposed.
The Great Mother pondered how to best proceed. “We do have to be careful. Our intervention lowers the barriers between realms. Remember that other time we intervened in Upper Right Earth, and accidently sent that poor orc and her son through?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The Sky Father grimaced. “For the love of Us, yes. The sheer amount of bad poetry produced by that episode!”
He raised his hand and took great strides across the universe. “And we had the religious prohibition against poetry in the early Germanic peoples. There were reasons! Absolutely nobody needed poetry in Old English or any of its later forms! But the humans disobeyed! Of all the cheeky creations in the universe…”
“You did get revenge,” said Deymater, working to calm him. “Quite a nasty revenge. I never would have thought of doing that. So cruel, Sparky!”
“Yes, indeed, I made the English language impossible to spell. I am a wrathful God! Vengeance is sweet! Sometimes, though, I think I may have gone too far. A plague would have been a lot less destructive than the English spelling system.”
“It is amazing that they haven’t yet realized it was a curse from the gods.”
He smiled. “They are in denial, or they would certainly have realized. Many of that civilization’s children learning the system do make very interesting curses against spelling. They’ve at least gotten close to understanding what happens when a people displease the Gods!”
“How is that orc doing, anyway?” She asked.
“Oh, she’s fine. She’s been reincarnated a few times. She was Queen of England once, and now she runs a quantitative hedge fund. Still keeps those traditional orc values.” The Sky Father had enjoyed watching her work. “The son works as a literary agent. He rather enjoys rejecting perfectly good fantasy book manuscripts. Then doesn’t even send back a response. He’s such a bastard.”
“Right. So Grendel hasn’t changed much… But the interventions have sometimes worked out, other than that Old English Poetry Fiasco. I suppose we can do one here to help out your loyal follower Jend. A small one. Just to get them to the correct places, and then it’s down to them. ”
"So it is agreed, and it is good all around!! They are on that ship, right?" Teyspater pointed down through the heavens at an old vessel, built for the calm southern seas, currently struggling though the rough seas of the north. "I could whip up a pleasant storm, send them crashing right into Lagar's Haven!"
"Teys, really. You do not always need to be so dramatic. There are much easier ways."
"Easy? You want that I should just appear to them and order them to land in Lagar’s Haven?"
"Oh, Sparky, please. Again, that is way too dramatic. You really could just be a little more creative. More subtle. Make the mortals puzzle it out. It is good for them. They are so cute about it. Their theories can be very imaginative. Even when We haven’t done anything."
Deymater made the ship's food rot and caused their water supply to go brackish. The ship turned fifteen minutes later, and within the hour it was approaching Lagar's Haven's harbor.
But the Great Mother had a new worry. She had sensed an Idea making the transfer during the intervention. “Oh, no… I think I let Punk Music through.”
They looked at Each Other.
“Oh, it will be fine,” He said. “I’m sure that won’t have a major effect on any of their cultures.”
- - - -
Down in the ruins of the keep, Jend sensed the reply of his god. Jend, you have your chance. Do not mess it up.
Jend thought in reply Not mess it up? How could things possibly be more messed up? You are not being entirely clear, my god of the sky.
There was the sound of running in the hallway. A goblin messenger ran in and skidded across the floor as he tried to stop. "Lord Jend. A ship is arriving at the docks. It is full of elves!"
Jend had watch points set up around the city that he could see through with his sorcerous vision if he concentrated. He did this now, turning his attention to the watch point at the harbor, examining the approaching ship. He saw an old ship, battered but still sailing strong under faded and torn green sails. On its deck were sixteen beings. They seemed to be mostly elves, but at least a couple were humans, and there was one as to which Jend could only guess the identity. They were all turned toward a single person – a small woman, a forest elf, with a pert nose and almond-shaped eyes. Jend thought her the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Her long brown hair was a mess, her clothes, like those of her followers, patched and faded. She looked as though she hadn't slept for two days - a look Jend recognized as it was also currently his own. But there was a wisdom and a determination in her deep brown eyes to which Jend was drawn.
Jend realized he still had a lot of fight in him.
"The ship and its passengers are not to be harmed!” Jend yelled to the messenger. “Spread the word with the army. I am going to the docks now!"
Jend looked about the almost bare room of the keep. There were only a few weapons, a sleeping roll, and the remains of a fire. Someone though had left a potted flower, small and not yet in bloom, but alive and green. Jend grabbed the small pot in his large hand and ran toward the docks.
Jend didn't know flowers, but he thought the flower was a Northern Badlands Daisy – a local type of daisy that was very hardy, and rather prickly, with many thorns for survival in a harsh land.