From the Illymium Codex

The Thrades, a race of beings as old as Ardelym herself, once ruled the land. But Illym was displeased with their crude and warring ways so he released the dragon Quetzex from the Great Vulcan, in exchange for allowing her and her issue a brief period of freedom every Zar. Like an obedient daughter, Quetzex did as Illym commanded and incinerated the beasts with her fiery breath. But two Thrades, a male and a female, managed to escape. Clinging to a piece of driftwood, they crossed and Crimson Seas and settled north of the frozen peaks of Kadaar in the Jotur Forest. Many Zars later, the citizens of Ardelym assumed the Thrades had become extinct or had never lived at all beyond the pages of ancient Mynimium picture books. But from that one couple, a diabolical clan was born. Their thorny hides adapted easily to the harsh climate and throughout the many Zars of their existence, they grew in number. Illym replaced their kind with the gentle and spiritual Illymiums, created in his own image. But the Thrades’ never forgot Illym’s ill-treatment of them. Not equipped to take on a god, they set their sights on his other creations instead, like a vengeful bastard brother. Their hatred growing in tandem with their strength and numbers, the Thrades set out to reclaim what had once been theirs. They gathered an army of the strongest among them, and headed south toward the people of Kadaar.

The Thrades

A fortnight had passed and still, there was no word from Bonn Skaard. In desperation, the Skaards at Rhynforde sent out a scout, a boy of no more than thirteen, to check on Vallyha. After three days had passed and the boy hadn't returned, a pall fell over Rhynforde, now consisting of women, children, the elderly, and the few wounded soldiers still recovering within the healer's tent. The healer's name was Bratag; her deeply lined face was a map of wisdom offset by twinkling blue eyes.

A young man named Tagar, wounded in the first attack, died in agony while Starlex sat at his bedside, trying in vain to comfort him. The deep gashes on his neck had become infected and the only relief she could offer him was draughts of whiskey that he drank deeply from before unconsciousness overtook him. He was from a village deep within Jotur, a part of Kadaar where only the hardiest men and women eked out their existence. Starlex had heard of tales of the beast-laden forest so thick the sunlight couldn't pierce its canopy.

After Tagar drew his last breath and his body was dragged to an open field and set ablaze in the Kadaar custom, Starlex returned, with a heavy heart, to Bratag's tent to crush herbs for medicines. The people of Ryneforde had managed to squirrel away quite a bit of food stock within their makeshift forts. Among the dry goods, she discovered a store of herbs. Black Whjycker root which she remembered from her lessons in Oran tower, was a natural pain reliever. It would help ease the agony of the wounded and dying.

She tried focusing on her task, ignoring the icy wind whipping through the tent walls. Despite her best efforts, her mind wandered to dark thoughts, of Bonn Skaard lying dead and frozen on the ground, of the Thrades moving toward their encampment.

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The Thrades were ancient beings, older than Illymiums even. So old, most of Ardelym thought they existed only in the pages of ancient books and mural walls. She shuddered when she recalled the images of the creatures with their scaly skin, clawed appendages, and red blazing eyes.

The explosion of the Great Vulcan many Zars ago had pushed the last of the Thrades from Ardelym's most fertile lands to deep within the Jotur Forest. Quetzex followed them there, so the legend went, the dragon's breath searing a barren perimeter around the dense, frozen woods. But still, the Thrades survived. They survived on roots, animals they hunted, and when they could get them, man.

And what did these creatures want? Starlex recalled asking Flenn Illymium this question once. Flenn replied the Thrades wanted the same thing men wanted: to thrive, to multiply, to have sovereignty over the land and other beings.

It made sense and seemed simple enough, but at how far would the Thrades be willing to go to achieve these goals? Would they not stop before all of Ardelym would belong to them? And if that's so, would not Illym intervene?

Starlex now wished he had asked Flenn Illymium more about these diabolical creatures and what was the best way to fight them. Flenn would know.

When she had finished crushing the herbs, she told several of the women working alongside her that she would return shortly. She had learned enough of their native tongue to communicate with them.

She found the people of Rhynforde to be jolly souls despite the current hardship facing them. They did not treat her, as an Illymium, with the distant coldness she was accustomed to. In fact, they welcomed her warmly, offering her food, a dress made from soft suede, fur-lined boots, and a comfortable tent with two dogs to keep her warm at night.

She guessed this had much to do with Bonn Skaard's status among his people. It must have taken great humility, she reasoned as she pulled back the tent flap and braced herself for the blast of frigid air, for Bonn Skaard to leave his land and people when they needed him the most to come to Oran during the Zar celebration and plead his case to the king.

I was the wager, Starlex thought sadly. And Oran turned her back on him.

She climbed a snow-covered hill as she did every evening when her work was done. Sitting on top of a high rock, with the setting sun warming her back, she could see far into the distance over the Crimson Sea.

I can almost see Oran Tower from here.

She wondered what her friends were doing.

Had Tylla mended her broken heart over Carmelle? Was Rigel safe?

She didn't think much about Hyperia. She knew her sister would always survive.

Turning in the other direction, she faced the biting wind. Beyond the foothills of Kadaar, stood the Jotur Forest. It was within these impenetrable woods that her love would be fighting the Thrades. She spotted small circles of smoke among the black mass of trees, wondering if they were from the fires of war or if it were only mist.

Waiting was almost as bad as dying, she thought, then immediately banished the idea from her mind. Nothing would be worse than facing a Thrade in the flesh. Looking down at the fires of the encampment she realized how vulnerable they now were.

If Bonn Skaard and the other men fail at fighting back the Thrades, they will be coming for us next.