SONG OF THE ELUSID

Taken from the records of the dreams of a prophet whose name has been lost.

'I came to a place like a heavenly throne, surrounding the throne were creatures who sang in a loud voice:

Our Father alone came to know himself in the darkness. In knowing himself he knew love, and of that love came Word. A creature of the same kind and part of Our Father. Their love in turn bore Spirit which was sent out and permeated the darkness.

We are the Elusid.

We too existed within Our Father, we Twelve. Preceding even Time.

We are the Elusid.

The Words reached out and wove together Space, and so we departed from Our Father and looked upon him to sing his praises. Space stretched endlessly, but still Our Father was greater than it. In the stillness Time did not yet march.

We are the Elusid, named as Twelve, children and servants of the most high.

Our Father granted us authority, and set us to work in Space. The Word gave to us a song, and a story. The Spirit gave us wisdom, and so within the three we were as one. And the Three were One.

We are the Elusid, the blessed children and architects.

One of the Twelve turned his eyes from the Father and looked inward. He found not love. He forsook his duty and the darkness took root in his heart.

We are the Elusid, blameless and called sons of the Father.

The command came, and Time began to march. Darkness moved in our brother, called now Set'furen, and with the unordered Darkness he attacked our father.

We are the Elusid, and we watched in awe.

The finite clashed with the infinite, and Space shook. Our Father in his fury at the foolish son extended himself in all directions as Time began its march. Light filled the infinite spaces, as the fabric of Space was layered and twisted, pulled and distorted, so that the Astral Sea was born.

We are the Elusid, we watched in awe as Order and Chaos danced.

Set'furen was brought before the father, shamed and cowed. The darkness now ordered, and interwoven with the Spirit.

The Word intervened, and our brother forgiven. Life blossomed from the fragments of the Father which had spiraled out into Space. But Darkness was still in our brother's heart.

We are the Elusid, separate from Time we watched the worlds bloom, and once again paid heed to the Father.

The Word commanded that we descend into the Astral Sea, and give our wisdom to Life.

We are the Elusid, we messengers of He Who Spoke All To Be, the Lord Thel'el, who descended upon Te-Drae to give Word to the Dragons.

Set'furen however was consumed by Malice. Realizing he could never overcome the Father in a contest of might, the only course he could take was to pervert Creation.

We are the Elusid, who learn and teach.

Set'furen became shrewd and learned to manipulate the hearts of the created beings. He could not turn his siblings away from the Father's will, but he could distract them from his own.

We are the Elusid, who called those 'nidian' who inherited the image of the Father.

The shards scattered into all spaces by Set'furen's futile clash with the Father gave rise to heart and spirit in the beings rising from the great release of power which brought forth the stars.

We are the Elusid who brought forth the Rauvi and furnished the world with our blessings.

Set'furen's second attempt at the Throne of the Father is coming and again he will be foiled, but this time not forgiven. He will be cast into the only place in which no shard or trace of the Father is, and bound within Time and Space. His gift stripped away leaving him with only darkness.

We are the Elusid, who cast our treacherous brother into Uros.'

'When they had finished their song, the throne was obscured with a brightness like lightning and I averted my eyes. Whence I dared to look back upon the throne, it was gone, and so were the creatures, all but one. Then they spoke these words to me.'

“Hear us, and take caution, Set'furen targets the heart and the soul, the mind and psyche. His wiles are never so overtly wicked as to be perceived, he hides in the blackest corners of the hearts of even the most righteous. It is from this corruption that evil spreads. Take heart however! A king is coming who will expose the darkness and show you how to live, and during his reign a Deliverer will be found and raised up among you!”

'After saying these things the final creature left and I was alone. I turned, and found myself in a great library. Before me stood a great man of noble presence, long of hair and bearing tall branching horns, and I fell to my knees, prepared to worship him, but he stopped me.

“Peace, peace! I am a mere servant, do not give me airs. You are here seeking wisdom, the same as me. Let us study together.”

I spent many days with the Servant of Thel'el, and when at last we had to be parted he said to me, “A final riddle, one which I have been asked to pass on to you, though even I know not its answer.”

“The serpent will take the hearts of many and much tyranny and violence will come to pass but fear not, for I have prepared for you deliverers, who though the serpent will bite at them, they will stamp it's head with their feet. Three Kings who will overcome the chaos that drags all of creation into darkness.”

'I asked who these kings were, but the Servant of Thel'el laughed and placed a hand on my head as a father to a son.'

“I have told you already, I know not the answer to this riddle any more than you do. But at the very least, you may have hope. Chaos will be driven away and we will know order and abundance under them.”

1. The King's Dream

Domain Yvergn was once a peaceful kingdom, from the highest nobility to the lowest farmers, the qualities of compassion and just action were highly valued and life was viewed with the highest dignity. The country wasn't as wealthy as the seafaring nation of Naukt on a continent to the far North, but the word 'prosperity' wasn't foreign to them. The jobless were few and the impoverished that existed were cared for.

Contrarily, the neighboring Principality of Bantol was in a time of turmoil. Bandits came by the cartload, and their king was said to rule with an iron fist. King Senfiel of Bantol was seen as a foolish and selfish king, who made no effort to curb the banditry, or improve the lives of his subjects. It is these dissatisfied men and women who crossed the bounds of the Principality into the Domain and made it a 'once peaceful' place. This circumstance in tandem with the fearsome monsters who make their home on planet Te-drae caused a drastic rise in the number of men and women choosing to profess in soldiery in Yvergn. These mercenaries traveled between towns and villages, typically to places the royal army couldn't easily go out of their way to protect when places in and around the capital were also bogged by bandits.

The capital was called Sciyanne, a huge walled city further walled in by mountains whose peaks touched and were obscured by the clouds. Snuggled in the innermost valley was the city, and a bustling city it was. While not strictly the trade capital, it certainly contributed to a large portion of Yvergn's commerce and culture. Here too was the royal palace, where the king of Domain Yvergn, Jeroam was asleep.

The palace was ordinarily an easygoing and relaxed place, a far cry from the capitol building nary a league away which had a constant stream of nobility and influential persons coming and going from it. There were gardens in the courtyards, and alongside its many guest spaces, conference rooms. The castle was built into the mountainside, with two layers of walls separated by courtyards. These took the shape of terraces, and followed the mountain elevation, meaning the castle building's lights could be seen all throughout the castletown, which itself was walled. The castletown featured crops instead of gardens however.

Tonight though, all was not easygoing. Jeroam tossed and turned, groaning and covered in sweat. He was beset with a nightmare.

A fleet of ships approached the northernmost city. As they came to port however, they crushed the docks and ran aground. From them poured out hordes of red soldiers who washed over the city, and then the Domain as a whole, soaking the country in red. They struck out at farmers and knights alike, and nothing was spared before the hands of the red stained army.

Jeroam sat up suddenly, shivering. He had seen the land dyed with the blood of his people, it felt all too real, too important to be a mere dream. He sat for a time, recollecting his breath, but unable to shake the feeling of despair from his heart. This was no mere nightmare, he concluded. He went to the washroom and splashed water on his face. He felt compelled to march north. Was it truly a good idea for the king to leave the castle? Likely not, but so strong was the compulsion that he couldn't sit still any longer. But still some reason was left in him, so before he stormed out of the castle he went to the garden he loved to watch the moon's reflection. The night sky was clear and full of stars and the moon, Lurenne, full in all of her splendor was reflected on the surface of a little pond where many small creatures gathered in the garden. Tonight most of them were hidden asleep or had run as Jeroam approached, his agitated posture such a contrast from his usual serene demeanor that even those accustomed to him had fled.

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He sat in front of the pond for what felt like years, but scarcely fifteen minutes had passed. Finally he decided, he would go. However, given the situation with Bantol it wouldn't do for new of his departure from the castle to spread, so he must prepare quietly. He sought out his beloved armor, his spear, and began to prepare food and funds for the journey. As he was beginning to gather the detail, a servant called out to him.

“Milord? What are you doing?”

Jeroam froze, then turned to the sturdily built maidservant who had called out to him.

“I'm preparing for a journey,” he said honestly, if he had been found out it would be better to have his servants help him, both in preparing for the journey as well as keeping it a secret once he had left.

“A journey!?” the woman said, in spite of her surprise she kept her voice low, her shock evident in expression and posture alone.

Jeroam's eyes wandered to the window and to Lurenne again, “Indeed. Something is amiss in the Northlands. I trust you will keep my secret?” he said, turning back to his servant, then his eyes found another three who had been listening around the corner. They fell over themselves trying to bow in apology for overhearing, but Jeroam simply waved his hand.

“What's done is done, so instead of all that, help me with preparations.”

With all four helping he was done in minutes.

“Do y'know when ye'll be back, milord?” a manservant asked, handing Jeroam his pack.

Jeroam paused, then took the sack, “I cannot say. There is much uncertain about all of it, but I will be back.”

The three maidservants were holding back tears, something about the suddenness and seriousness of the departure made it sure to the them that something dangerous was afoot and that their master was about to drawn up into the middle of it all.

“What's all this then? I haven't yet left and you're all nearly gone to pieces! I'll be back, that much I can assure you of.”

“Yes milord!”

“Of course your majesty!”

“I-I'll do my best!”

Addressing the maidservant who had discovered him first, Jeroam said, “These three I put under you, in matters of my absence and how to discuss it with the other staff of the castle, and guests of the castle you have final say.”

The maid stood to attention, “Yes milord!”

The other three including the manservant bowed to Jeroam, and then to her.

After hearing their goodbyes, Jeroam departed and was out of the castletown and on the road by morning. He slept under a tree out of sight of the road until noon. Once awake he donned his armor and set out along the north road.

He had avoided taking a horse to avoid detection and suspicion, as the royal horses were a rare breed, a gift from the Nauktites and therefore of a kind uncommon in Yvergn. To that point, horses in general were on the uncommon side in Yvergn. Instead a meek breed of monster called vanasheara, shaggy haired beasts with strong legs and great stamina, tough stringy meat and their wool often felted and unusable for textiles, so they had found themselves in the role of the packmule or ox.

Jeroam began walking along the Northroad, and before he had gone twelve leagues he saw a shape further up the road. As he got closer, it got bigger and bigger until he realized what it was.

“A wyvern!?” He crouched a safe distance away from the creature.

Wyverns where said to be cousins of dragons, but to think they were this big went against what he had learned. Perhaps this was a special breed or individual? Surely that must be the case, as on the subject of vanasheara this wyvern could surely take four, two in each talon, into the skies with it, such was its great size.

Jeroam sat and observed the creature for a while, it shifted lifting a wing. On it Jeroam noticed with alarm an arrow embedded near the top joint of the wing just below the large hooked claw. The wyvern looked distressed, as it's large talons couldn't quite reach the shaft, and even if they could they were surely too large and clumsy to get a good hold of it. At most they would break off the wooden shaft, leaving the metal or stone fragment embedded in the poor thing's scales.

Steeling his nerve, Jeroam crept closer to the grounded wyvern. It stiffened, tail raising into the air, bladed end readied like that of a scorpion's. Jeroam raised his arms showing he meant no harm, hoping the creature wouldn't take it to be an attempt at intimidation.

To his relief the wyvern relaxed its tail, but in turn it raised its head, and Jeroam found he was facing four ferocious amber eyes. The wyvern was trained on him, the four amber orbs tracing his every move. Quickly, Jeroam moved closer to the creature, and inspected the wound.

“Who would wound such a magnificent creature,” Jeroam muttered under his breath as he reached into his pack for a bandage and pain numbing ointment. Retrieving them, he set to work on the shaft. Thankfully it seemed to have missed any vital arteries or blood vessels, as the wyvern wasn't bleeding much, however clearly the archer knew something about wyverns, or had been very lucky, as the arrow had lodged itself into the joint in such a way that the wing bones couldn't contract properly. This had also contributed to what Jeroam had seen from far away down the road, the wyvern's huge wing couldn't be properly folded down, therefore almost like a large tarp or sheet in the wind it had been held open covering the creature.

Jeroam took the bandage in one hand and the arrow shaft in the other. The wyvern tensed as the arrow moved slightly. Jeroam locked eyes with the creature once more, and adjusted his grip. He nodded to the wyvern, and pulled sharply. The instant the arrow came out, he wiped away the gout of blood that followed with the ointment soaked bandage. The wyvern huffed, whether from pain or relief Jeroam couldn't tell, but for his part the sudden relief caused his legs to give way beneath him. He found himself lying against the large wyvern's body, he gave the creature a weak smile.

“Oh dear, it seems I was a great deal more nervous about the ordeal than I'd expected. Forgive me, but I'd like to rest a while here if you don't mind.”

The wyvern curled its tail around, and for a moment Jeroam thought it might strike him with the blade at its end, but instead it merely curled around the both of them, bringing its head in as well. In this way they both slept til the dawn of the next day.

When he woke up the next day, Jeroam's head was on the ground rather than the wyvern's flank. For a moment he thought the creature had gone, but in the same moment a wet tongue left a trail of slobber on the side of his face so that was not the case.

“Good morning to you as well!” Jeroam said, daring to pet the creature as it had come to him first. For a while they played, until Jeroam thought he should be off.

He noticed however, that the wyvern began to follow him.

“Well, if you're going to come along I need a name to call you then!”

He was ready to begin considering names, when the wyvern began scratching something into the earth with a talon.

Jeroam came over to inspect it and was shocked to see the letters S-H-Y-K engraved into the earth.

“Shyk? Is your name Shyk?”

The wyven bobbed it's head. Jeroam was astounded by the creature's intelligence, in none of the literature he had read, though it wasn't particularly a great deal to begin with, had he been given the slightest indication of this degree of intellect.

However, one detail that did track with what he had read was that as he inspected the creature more closely he saw a patch of scales on its back between its wings that resembled a kind of natural saddle of sorts.

Shyk indicated for Jeroam to get up onto his back.

“Really? You'll allow me to ride?”

Shyk made a guttural noise that seemed to indicate yes. Not to be confused with speech, for it was anything but. For something the reader may more clearly understand, think of the kinds of throaty hisses alligators and crocodiles make, given wyverns have a bit more vocal range but that is the closest example.

Together the two set off, Shyk did not fly yet however, his wing was still healing, but his long strides were certainly faster than Jeroam was on his own legs.