Chapter VII:
History Revealed
Training in the Daunrys
It was Lord Havoc's desire to sharpen Volthamir's skills in battle against the goblins of the Daunrys. Within a month of their arrival at Star Hill, the two men began making their preparations for war. Lord Havoc summoned all the greatest warriors in Ramlos to join him in the defense of their homeland. This was some eight years before the Princess was sent to live at the Nunnery,
'The foothills are lost to us,' he informed them, 'and the northern woods of Heyan are infested with goblins. We must oust these brutes from our fair land, lest the whole northern kingdom fall into the paws of these half-men.'
On the fourteenth day of Leonius, Lord Havoc and Prince Volthamir rode away from Ramlos with three hundred strong warriors. They made their way along the northern marches of the Heyan woods and after five days they joined the men of Nolhern on the eastern banks of the Heyan River.
Nolhern was a fortified town, surrounded on all sides by thick stone walls and tall guard towers. It kept the northern shores of Ramlos safe from pirates and checked the power of the goblins in that region. They were not able, however, to drive the goblins from the northern woods, for their numbers were too few and the goblins were too clever once they came under the shadow of the trees.
Their first task was to drive the goblins from Heyan, and cut them off from their kin in the foothills. Patrols were begun and soon Lord Havoc's men drove a wedge between the goblins of the mountains and the goblins in the wood.
After this was done, they turned their attention to the colonies that had taken root in the deep places of Heyan. With amazing cunning Lord Havoc ousted these by the end of the first year, driving them into the open fields of eastern Heyan to die naked and hungry in the cold winter winds.
All the while he focused as much effort on the training and education of the prince. He taught the Prince his own peculiar form of swordplay, such as had gained him his reputation so many years ago. And when his training was nearly complete, Lord Havoc unleashed his pupil on the goblins of Heyan.
Within a month, northern Heyan was declared to be free, and by the end of their second year there remained not a single camp or colony of goblins in the forest. Lord Havoc himself remained in Nolhern for the most part, only entering the forest now and again to visit the prince and give council when it was needed. Consequently, the fame of the prince grew throughout the region. Industry began to thrive in the northern kingdom and new towns began to spring up here and there. Brave men joined the warriors and built strong towns and cities in the east, some even within fifteen leagues of the Daunrys themselves. They were becoming bold. This land was once restored by the efforts of King Vulcan thos Ramlos, but was lost when the King took upon himself the rule of Amlaman. Now King Vulcan appeared to them to be only distantly concerned with their struggles. It was said among them that, 'Men have but one face. And can a man look east, when his gaze is fixed upon the south and the west?' They had a new 'savior' in the young man from Amlaman. And in him they placed their trust and loyalty.
His abilities, both as the result of his training and because of his own natural talents, soon became legendary. Tales of his daring battles against goblin hordes made their way into every home in Ramlos, and certainly found their way into the king's halls in Japhrian. But King Vulcan could not tell whether to be pleased with his nephew's successes or intimidated.
His deeds made their way to the ears of Princess Leonara, who began to perceive him almost as more of a specter from the ancient legends than a mere man of flesh and blood to whom she bore some relation.
The Visit
Through all the years of Volthamir's absence, Leonara maintained a correspondence with him. She sent letters to him nearly every month, telling him of her thoughts and her fears and her anger toward her mother. To avoid the censure of her father she hid these messages in rhymes and stories that only her brother would comprehend. One of her letters read thus:
Father hog so verily verily loved to be a hog,
That he moved his entire family to festering, stinking bog,
Mother hog so verily verily hated to see him grin,
That she moved her bed away from his and con-snorted with a jinn,
Much to mother hog's dismay, this made father squeal,
For now he had a freedom which his wife could not repeal,
Mother hog, now powerless, turned against her child,
Snapping at and chiding her till she herself went wild.
In this can be discerned, by those who have familiarized themselves with her history, the contentions of her parents, her mother's religious zeal, Leonara's own disdain for the cultus of Agonistes, and her own desire for freedom from all of these. It is certain at least that Volthamir understood enough of these to know that his sister desired to be free of her parents.
Volthamir responded very rarely, and even then only with a few lines telling her that he was still living and that the wars were going well. In each of Leonara's letters she closed her message with a plea for his return. But he said nothing of visiting in any of his own messages. But despite his own reluctance to visit Japhrian, as prince he was not able to remain aloof forever.
Three years after he had left the palace, on the eve of her twelfth birthday, Volthamir returned to the palace. His visit was very brief, he was only there to attend to some important political matter, but it left a lasting impression of Leonara.
To her eyes he seemed altogether different. His skin was pale as ever, but he seemed vigorous and full of life, rather than despair. He was much stronger now and as they embraced she was startled by the strength of his arms. He was now a man of twenty-five years, and in every way he was in his prime. 'I have missed you dreadfully, brother,' she said with tears in her eyes.'
Volthamir almost looked away to avoid seeing her tears, but her face had grown so beautiful that he was unable to ignore her. 'And I have missed you as well, young peacock.' She looked down at her feet when he said this. He smiled and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. 'Hold on, sister,' he told her in a kind voice. 'There is no trouble that lasts forever.'
For some reason these words seemed to echo in her heart. Her body warmed up and she stood up tall. 'I hope to see you again soon, my brother,' she said. 'And if you don't come to me, I will ride out to the Daunrys myself to find you.'
Volthamir laughed. 'There will be no need. There will be more reasons for me to come to Japhrian soon enough. Until then, however, do not let the mad-one trouble you. There will come a time that she will have no power over anyone.' These words he said in reference to her mother, Lady Marel.
She watched him closely as he left the palace and rushed to her own bedroom to watch him from the window as he mounted his black horse and rode away into the darkness. She wept all that night, cursing her mother.
Legion
In the month of Solest, the war against the goblins of the Daunrys took a turn for the worst. A Feral king had appeared in the mountains, and the goblins grew bolder. They reclaimed some of the foothills and sent many of the brave Heyan settlers back into the woods.
For most of the history of the world there was no explanation for the origin of Feral kings. It was simply understood that on occasion a hob-goblin of such fierce cunning would arise and lead his tribe to ascendancy. In this case it was a hob-goblin called Legion.
The natural ignorance of goblins would probably have long ago brought about their extinction were it not for the arising of these strange masters. It seemed as though every time goblins found themselves backed into a corner, just as the sword prepared to strike them down forever, a savior would appear, if it is proper to use that term. It seemed that just as the warriors of Ramlos prepared to march into the mountains to finish off the last of the Daunrys goblins, a great and cunning master took control of them. The goblins suddenly began to behave more cunningly, almost rational, and that cunning combined with their lack of compassion is more than any mortal army c
an manage. The Ramlos warriors were driven out of the mountains. With their heads hanging low they returned to Nolhern with the sad tidings.
'The goblins and orcs have a new master,' they informed Lord Havoc with sorrow in their voices, 'A Feral king, we fear.'
Strangely, Lord Havoc smiled. The men almost gasped, but quickly regained their composure.
'Do not be surprised at my pleasure,' Lord Havoc laughed. 'You have fought hard, and for many long years. And it might seem to you that now things have turned against you. But a Feral king, if indeed you are correct in assuming that such a creature has appeared in the Daunrys, is a phenomenon that arises when the goblins are weakened and imperiled. Encourage yourselves at least in that; we have driven them to the brink. Now nature herself seems to be giving them a hand, but we must prove ourselves masters of even nature. For in the end, even the great goddess of nature cannot argue with victory. We will yet bring an end to the trouble of goblins. A Feral King?' Lord Havoc said in a rhetorical tone, 'It means not that we have failed. It only means that it is time for us to renew our courage, and press on till we come to the end of this war.'
To Volthamir he only said, 'This is news that I had not have counted on. Fortune, if there be any such thing, has smiled upon us.'
'Fortune?' Volthamir questioned. 'A Feral King's rise?'
Lord Havoc chuckled darkly, 'You will see, my prince, what good things can come from the darkness. Goblins act in a certain way, and that way is generally deducible from their animal wants and needs. But a Feral King changes that. Much of the peril that such a creature represents is derived from the fact that their enemies do not realize that when their ruler has changed, their enemies must change as well.'
'So we are going to change our strategy?'
'In such a way as no mortal man would scarce imagine.'
His specific plan, Lord Havoc did not share with any of his men. He did not even fully inform Volthamir of his intentions until it was nearly time to put it into motion. In the meanwhile, however, he acquiesced to the reality of the Feral King's rule and withdrew his men from the eastern plains and foothills. It seemed to the men that the battle against the Daunrys was now all but abandoned. Heyan's freedom had been won, but for as long as Legion, which is what Lord Havoc named the Feral King, was living, it seemed like the notion of living without the fear of goblins was a fleeting dream.
The Fell Wolf
For the next two and a half years Volthamir battled against Legion's goblins. The goblins of the northern Daunrys had joined with the tribes of the central region. This almost doubled their numbers and their weapons were sharp and strong. It was suspected that they had perhaps stumbled upon some ancient dwarven armory that had until then lain hidden in the deep caverns of the mountains. Lord Havoc himself did not partake in any of the battles for the express purpose that he draw not any undue adulation, nor detract from any of the honor that was due the prince of Amlaman.
Accordingly, the people of his uncle's old kingdom grew to love Volthamir dearly. 'Lord Vulcan left us to domineer the southern realm,' they would complain, 'But Volthamir, the son of his murdered cousin, stands by us who were strangers to his father.'
The terrors that ordinarily accompany the appearance of the dreaded Feral King never materialized in Ramlos, mainly due to the fact that Volthamir and his army kept them in check. During all that time there were no raids upon Heyan, and wherever in the eastern lands the goblins plundered, their victims were soon revenged by Volthamir and his men.
In those days, by his own prowess, and by Lord Havoc's absence, Volthamir rose to the center of the people's attention. Every eye was fixed on him when he led his warriors to battle. And every ear eagerly awaited the account of his latest conquests. They had great faith in him, and he suffered no counter assault by the forces of Legion. Soon his fame brought him praises and exaltations. The Unrivaled Prince of Amlaman he was called at first. But after a while his name evolved into the Invincible Prince of Ramlos. Some called him the Fierce Goblin Hunter, or the Ghost of the Heyan Woods. But after his army surrounded and surprised a camp of goblins raiders in the midst of an assault, leaving none to escape alive, he became known as the Crafty Wolf of Ramlos, which Lord Havoc by his own efforts changed to Fell Wolf. This name soon became the most popular of his titles, particularly among the people of Heyan who understood the history of the fell black wolves of the forest. It was no small encouragement to them to imagine that such a crafty and opportunistic beast, one who had so perfectly destroyed its own ancient foes, was now vying for their survival.
But to whatever degree he gained the honor of the people of Ramlos, he lost the good will of the rulers of Japhrian. King Vulcan grew both jealous of his successes and honors and suspicious of his new power and authority. Every night he tore at his hair and moaned himself to sleep in fear and regret. 'How could I have been so foolish,' he would groan. 'I have treated my own heir like a traitor, and by exiling him I have given him power and honor incomparable!'
'Fell Wolf indeed,' Lady Marel would complain, 'It is like such an evil creature, no doubt, to devour his own kin.'
The queen's words filled King Vulcan with horror. For he had all but forgotten the words of his cousin. "Kin-slayer becomes kin-slain, I curse you."
Rout and Panic
On the twenty-fifth day of Morest, the first month of the winter, an army of goblins, such as had not been seen in an age, descended onto the plains of Ramlos east of the Heyan forest. They had one intention, if intention is a proper word to use concerning goblins; they desired to retake Heyan and establish themselves once more in the dark regions of that enormous forest.
The army of Volthamir sprung to action without delay and met the brutes in open war on the field that is to this day called Golbfein. There the roots of the mountains stretch out to form tall rock walls on the northeast and southern edges of the field. The land slopes up swiftly toward the east and flattens out as it approaches the forest. It was on these slopes that the fierce battle was held.
For three days the army of Volthamir held them back, driving the army back again and again. But after each assault, the numbers of the warriors of Ramlos decreased, while the number of goblins increased as new goblins joined them from unknown places. Messages were sent to Lord Havoc in Nolhern and to Volthamir in the Heyan woods. Trumpets roared and the men of Ramlos emptied their fortresses and their cities to march to war.
Volthamir rode out from the forest and met up with Lord Havoc about twenty leagues to the north of Golbfein.
'This could not be better for us, my prince,' Lord Havoc said as they rode toward the battle.
'I cannot imagine your meaning,' Volthamir laughed. 'Though I am certain that it is forthcoming.'
Lord Havoc laughed as he spurred his horse on. Volthamir quickened his own pace until both of them rode at nearly a gallop. Their men marched behind them, now only specks in the distance. 'Today we will either be cured of all suffering, or we will become heroes.'
'I can only guess that you have the latter in mind,' Volhamir laughed.
'You have learned much, my prince,' Lord Havoc said as he slowed his horse. They now came to the northern edge of Golbfein and looked down into the field where the men of Ramlos fought. The goblins poured over the foothills like water from a mountain stream. 'It is my intention that this battle mark the end of goblindom. You will ride into the fray, my prince. You must surpass all of your fellows this day. Leave them behind you and spare not a single brute. Drive them back with your lance and your sword. Strike terror into the heart of the Feral King. Shake his dominion, and you will raise yourself so high in the opinions of the men of the Dual kingdom that your devil uncle's cowardice and treachery will be plain to them all. Fear nothing. Death cannot take you if you are strong enough. And if you are not, then death has already taken you. Fear nothing, my prince.'
With these strange words, the two men descended into the battlefield. They appeared more like gods than men as they rode down the northern ridge
into Golbfein. The sun was high and their armor shone. Lord Havoc's dark armor rattled as he rode and his crimson cape danced wildly in the wind. Beside him rode Prince Volthamir thos Amlaman, clad in armor of silver, with a black cape and a plume of red-dyed horsehair atop his silver helm. The men cheered and the goblins shrieked in terror. Their coming was like the beating of a wave against a mound of sand. In their wake they brought a horde of warriors. Lord Havoc commanded them to hold their ground and drive the goblins slowly back into the foothills. But Prince Volthamir and himself rode up to the front of the skirmish and tore into the goblins with their lances and their swords.
Lord Havoc's horse seemed to dance around between the goblins as he battled. More than forty orcs tasted the cold steel of his spear's head that day, and countless goblins as well. Finally a bold high-orc shattered his lance with an axe. Lord Havoc, undaunted, drew his sword and cut the orc's head from his body. He snatched the orc's axe and rode off into the fray to create more mischief.
Volthamir killed many more orcs with his lance. In the end he cast it into the heart of an orc archer, that nearly caught him in the shoulder with an arrow. He drew his blade and rode about beheading those orcs that were tall enough for him to reach; the others his simply rode down with his horse. 'Excellent work Ghoras, he spoke to his beast. But there is much more for us to do.'
Together Lord Havoc and the prince pushed their way through the goblin army to the very midst of their ranks. Every arrow was broken on their armor, every swing of the axe was too slow to catch them, every spear was broken against their shields and every sword was shattered on their breastplates. For all that day they battled against the goblins. Finally, when the sun began to pass beyond the distant Heyan woods, the goblins retreated to their mountain camps. The men would have followed them, but Lord Havoc cautioned them against obeying their zeal. 'They are weakened right now, but they will find comfort in the night and passion from their injuries. Let us wait until the old ally of mankind reappears in the eastern sky.
The following morning, Volthamir was awakened by the sound of horns blowing. The goblins had regrouped during the night, and were now making a bold assault on the southern field. They had trodden down several hundred men of Ramlos and were making a mad rush toward the woods. Volthamir left his tent in a hurry and mounted his horse. At that moment Lord Havoc rode up beside him with a grin on his face.
'I will never grow accustomed to your peculiar enjoyments,' Volthamir said as he shook his head. 'The goblins strike hard at our men, and you grin as though you were just given a gift.'
'We have been given a gift, my prince,' Lord Havoc nodded and pointed toward the south. 'There lies more than mere carnage, it is another chance for the Fell Wolf to save the people of Ramlos; another opportunity to win the day and gain honor. Remember, my prince, the more honor you win, the more repugnant your uncle's suspicions will be in the nostrils of his people.'
'Very well then,' Volthamir said, drawing his sword, 'Let us do it then.'
They rode to the south swiftly and leapt without hesitation into the thick of the battle. Lord Havoc still carried the orc-axe that he had taken the day before. With its broad blade he dropped many goblins and orcs headless to the ground. Volthamir's strong arms thrust his spear about wildly among the goblins. He slew more than forty before he finally dropped his weapon, stabbed through three goblins at once. After that he drew his long, double edged sword. With this he did even more damage, and by the end of the day the goblins fled back to the mountains again.
At this point the men of Ramlos were so emboldened that they would have marched straight into the mountains to wipe out the goblins forever. But Lord Havoc stayed them once more.
'It will do us no good to sacrifice so great a victory by foolishly following them into their mountain caves. Many greater warriors led by greater generals have met worse fates by so doing.'
Ramlos was saved and the power of the goblins was broken. It was now proved to all that the Fell Wolf of Ramlos was their protector. Even a Feral King could do nothing against him. All throughout Heyan there were feasts and celebrations, honoring the bravery and courage of the Prince of Amlaman with songs and dances. Despite his own modesty, Volthamir soon realized that there was naught he could do to stop the fawning and bowing, the singing of praises and exultations.
The Naming Stone
Three weeks later, in Lord Havoc's chamber, Volthamir and his old teacher took council. Arus was there, perched atop his swing as always. They had just finished a meal of venison and potatoes. Lord Havoc was feeding Arus scraps from his plate and Volthamir was finishing the last of his mug. There was a long silence, broken only by the quiet sounds of the bird eating and their own breathing.
Finally Volthamir spoke, 'I think I have decided what it is that I want.'
Lord Havoc looked at him blankly, as though he did not understand him. Volhamir grew agitated and then, shaking his head, regained his composure. 'You asked me once, many years ago, "What is it that you desire?"' Lord Havoc still said nothing. 'But before I say anything, I must ask you- nay demand of you your own desires. You have done much for me, and hid much more from my eyes. Tell me now, Lord Havoc, what is it that YOU desire?'
Lord Havoc sat up and smiled broadly. 'You wish to know what I desire? Very well. I will answer you truthfully. I will tell you now what I have never spoken to mortal ears.'
Lord Havoc stood up and slid his chair away from him. He looked about the room for a moment, as though he were afraid that there were spies all about him. He opened the thick oak door and peered down the steps toward his chambers. He shut the door tight and fastened the lock.
He returned to his seat and sat down, keeping his back straight and his posture perfectly balanced. Then he began to speak in a low but strong voice.
'If you will believe the old stories,' he began, 'the Ancients, whom the vulgar refer to as Elves, were the keepers of many powerful secrets. And such tales and legends as they preserved to us we ought not disregard too lightly. There were many truths hidden within their lies. In fact, I would go so far as to say that there were far too many truths thus hidden.
'Whatever mankind believes about his own origins and his own nature is derived ultimately from the doctrines of the elves. Far be it for mere mortals to question the opinions and assertions of those who have lived for so many ages of the world. Mankind is fleeting, and with each life his history is obscured. No man can perfectly pass on his wisdom or his knowledge to his children, and so by necessity his history turns into mythology. But it was not so for the Elves. Or at least, it was not believed to be so. It was presumed that they could at least verify the events of the distant past that had passed before their own eyes.
'But no creature should be trusted with such credulity, whether man or elf. Eventually the history of the elves became corrupted, not by nature as was the case with mankind, but rather by their own design.
'They hid from mankind, indeed even from themselves, the truth about many things. So much was hidden that even their own sons could not but with great difficulty reconstruct the truth out of their fathers' riddles and myths. A clever lie was woven, and all of mankind has since then been ensnared.
'In part, it was this that caused the great wars that drove the elves out of Olgrost and Weldera. Some passionate members of the human race saw fit to punish them for their deceit and to overthrow their ascendancy once and for all. Now the elves live, if the reports can be believed, only in the shattered palace of Lumani and the frozen forests of Cebrost. Some say there is a remnant in Solsis, but who knows? The elves are gone, and they have none to blame but themselves.
'But among the many things they kept hidden was a powerful artifact from the northern world. It was a stone upon which was engraved the very name of the Immortal King. The man who held this stone held within his hands the essence of the Almighty and could command not only all men, but the Immortal King himself.
Volthamir sat up and gazed at Lord Havoc with a look of aston
ishment. His jaw dropped as he began to speak, but no words came out. He was struck silent, not knowing whether to laugh or to believe. Lord Havoc continued:
'I know what passes through your mind at this very instant. You are asking yourself, "Has he gone mad?" But I assure you, my prince, I have not gone mad. There is such a stone, and its location was well known in the older days. I have in my possession many proofs, which I will show to you in due time, that such a stone exists.'
After those words Volthamir settled back in his seat and put his hand to his chin. The room suddenly seemed to grow cold, his eyes dimmed and his limbs felt numb. Lord Havoc words seemed to come to life as they left his mouth.
'This stone was so brilliant, they say, that it made even the whitest silk appear dirty and gray by comparison. The letters were carved with such care and precision as the ancients alone were capable. It was imbued with all the power that the elves had gained through their long ages of labor. When the Northern World was buried under water, the elves sailed across the ocean and settled Weldera and Illmaria. With them they brought many treasures and secrets. It is said that the Naming Stone was carried by the Lord of the Argent Elves, who men call Falruvis.
'But what became of this stone when Falruvis fell, and when his kingdom was destroyed is unknown. What is certain, however, is that the desire for the Naming Stone was the second reason the Elves were conquered; pure vengeance being the first. But no mortal has set their eyes upon it, nor has any even heard of its whereabouts. Some believe that it was carried to Bralahi, the Gray Elf King, whose kingdom lies in the midst of a labyrinth of poisonous rocks and cliffs.
'But these reports are worthless, as they are founded only on speculation. Yet it remains that although Dadron was taken, the Naming Stone was never found, nor was any record of it discovered. This gave rise to the most common opinion: That the Naming Stone was yet another elven myth.
'And who can blame men for believing that liars lie? The elves buried the truth so regularly and consistently that it was very easy for their enemies to believe that they had invented the Naming Stone as well. The ancient people trusted every word of the elves as though it were divine, and what better lie for them to tell than that they possessed such an incomparable power? Their rule over mankind was then made complete. So when the armies of Olgrost and Lapulia plundered the fortress of Dadron, they were not surprised in the least to find no such stone - though they were perhaps a bit disappointed.
'The enemies of Falruvis made it appear as though this was what they had expected, and that they fought for liberty alone, rather than for power. But the truth of the matter is that these very men sought the mysterious stone in secret for many generations. When at last their wisdom failed them they declared the object a myth, being unwilling to admit that they were not capable of discerning the secrets of the elves.'
When Lord Havoc paused, Volthamir lifted his hand to stop him. 'Say no more, Lord Havoc, until you have first explained yourself. I have studied history, and none of this is taught in the schools of Amlaman or Ramlos. I do not doubt you,' Volthamir assured him, 'but you cannot overturn the whole world's history, making sages into fools and heroes into villains without any explanation. I would have you begin your account anew; this time starting at the very beginning of the tale. Tell me what you know about the elves, for I have heard only the history of the Royal Palace.'
'Very well,' Lord Havoc said smiling. 'I was trying to be brief, but I see that it is not possible. When four-thousand years of darkness are removed, we must allow our eyes some time to acquaint themselves with the light.'
From the Beginning of the Age
'I do not pretend to trust the elvish accounts any further than their coming to Tel Arie. According to their stories, there were six elf lords that sailed across the northern sea in roughly made vessels of wood. They did this to flee the dark powers of the gods who had, in jealousy, decreed their destruction.
'Whatever it was that happened in the Northern World of Bel Albor, the effect was the coming of the elves to Illmaria, the land that lies beyond the southern border of Amlaman. This event marks the beginning of our history. According to the elves, mankind was in such disarray and savage simplicity in those days that they did not record their history except through songs and myths. The elves on the other hand claimed to have very carefully documented the events from their arrival in the world of Tel Arie until their ascendancy. And since the lives and memories of men are short, there was no good reason to question their accounts. The day of their arrival they named the first day of Primus, which is to say, the 'starting month'. From there they supposedly counted the days and years faithfully and accurately, until at last their wisdom passed on to mankind who had finally attained such sagacity as was necessary to transcribe accurately the events they had witnessed. According to the system of the elves, it has been some four thousand and twenty eight years since they landed on the northern shores of the island of Cebrost, which they have regarded to be sacred ever since the 'Father Elves' first discovered it.
'The Father Elves were divided into three families: There were the Light Elves, who were called Argent, the Dark Elves, who were called Malent, and the Gray Elves, who were called the Verdent.
'The Argent elves were led by Lord Falruvis and his brother Lord Solruvis. Of all the elves, the Argent were the wisest. The greatest sages and historians arose from among their numbers, not the least of whom were Lord Falruvis and his brother.
'Lord Morta and Dalta ruled the Malent elves. They were by far the most powerful of the elves, surpassing all their brethren in every art of war. We shall see what became of this later.
'The Verdent elves were led by Bralahi and his brother Kolohi. The Gray elves were the most clever and cunning. They were not wiser than the Argent, nor were they stronger than the Malent. But stronger than than the Argent and wiser than the Malent, and so their advantages held the balance to their disadvantages. But this is perhaps enough about the types and kinds of elves, though others divide their races even further. There are of course the Kindent, but they are really just another kind of Malent, so I will say no more of them here.
'It was believed that at their departure from the Northern World of Bel Albor, some of the kinder gods gave to the Elf Lord six holy swords. In addition, each elf kindred was given a single seed from a kind of tree that grew in the northern world. From these seeds would grow the Holy Trees of the elves, over which so many dreadful battles were fought.
'The elves spread themselves all throughout the continent of Illmaria. The Verdent passed far to the south, wandering through the strange paths of Gilwela and coming at last to the Malgier Mountains, where Bralahi's impenetrable kingdom was established. The Malent elves settled in the Mortara Woods, so named after Morta, their first lord. Falruvis and his brother settled in Illmaria, Solruvis in the north where their Sacred Tree was planted, and Falruvis in the central portion of the continent, where they built Luma and the legendary Crystal Palace.
'According to their histories, the elves grew in peace and wisdom for nearly five hundred years, untroubled by strife and war. According to their accounts, they did not even know of mankind until after that time. This idea, however, is a total fiction of the elves. It was proven without a doubt that the elves were masters of warfare when they obliterated their enemies during the Foreign Wars. Such strength of arms cannot be created overnight, and skill of such magnitude must be honed in practice, not in mere theory. A sword cannot cut until it is first ground against a whetting stone, and are we to believe that these elven armies became such capable warriors without any preparation? No, even the elves must have something upon which to sharpen their skills.
'This object was found in the goblins, who it turns out, are more ancient than even the elves. It is commonly taught that the powers of evil wizards in Lapulia created the orcs and goblins. But this is an absolute lie. The Conjurers of the east merely learned the art of controlling these brutes, not creating them. I'm afraid that creating new
life is beyond the art even of the elves. The goblins, who write no history, are older than the humans, older than the delvers, whom men call dwarves, certainly older than the elves.
'It was against these brutes that the elves struggled for their new home. They found them in Desset and in the Daunrys, and in the forests of Illmaria and Gelantis. They annihilated them from Mortara, as no creature can long withstand the swords of the Malent.
'The dwarves proved to be another anvil against which the elves would temper their blades and hone their strategies. They attempted to exterminate them from their lands altogether, but in the end they could not descend into their caverns, where the fumes are too strong and venomous for anything other than a dwarf. This is why men say that there are 'Gaians' or Earth spirits that lurk the dark halls of the earth's belly. For the moment a man descends to their realm, he is overcome by the stench and passes into fits of madness and swiftly comes to ruin. Thus the dwarves survived in great numbers in the Laurel mountains in central Illmaria, despite the violence of their new neighbors.
'But according to the histories of the elves, they had no need for war for all those five hundred years. And as they have left no record of their conquests, and as their opponents, lying dead under heaps of earth, were equally unwilling to write out their histories, we are left with no means to discount their records. Thus we have the Golden Age of Peace, as the elves call it. Peace indeed!
'In the third month of the five hundred and seventh year, a fleet of ships cast anchor in the land of Weldera. They were settlers from a land they called Olgrost, which lay across what is now called the Kollun Sea. They were simple folk, not violent or unpleasant, but not very advanced in wisdom either. They were permitted to dwell in what we now call Falsis, and thus began the dealings between elves and men. Soon other settlers followed until almost the entire northern peninsula, from the shores of the eastern sea to the depths of the Zyprion woods, was inhabited by humans.
'Whenever men of different origins, ideas and needs collide, war will follow. And the passions of the humans soon drew the elves into a great war. This was called the Foreign War, as it was fought on strange lands, which the elves had not yet seen. In the end, the Elves proved their might and subjugated all of Weldera and the whole northern region of Olgrost.
'Kolohi and Dalta departed from their ancient home in Illmaria and passed over the sea to Olgrost with their armies to force a truce. There they set up two kingdoms: The Kingom of Dalta in the west and the Verder Kingdom in the eastern forest, which lay on the eaves of the Veste Mountains. From there they ruled over every living creature, whether human, elf or dwarf.
'Ultimately, however, the Great Conjurer Xanthur appeared and brought war once more to both elf and man. Xanthur came to rule over Lapulia, the greatest of all human cities. At first, Xanthur seemed to be interested only in peace. But soon he came to understand that peace comes by power. So he began to seek power. But since power corrupts men so easily, he soon became corrupted. That is how the elves record it at least. But this is yet another of their fictions.
'The elves created the stories of their origins to give themselves a lofty advantage over mankind. And since humans cannot trace back their roots past their own parents with much certainty, the elves likewise created stories about the origins of men. According to the elves, humans were born of the earth, but the elves came from heaven, that is, from Bel Albor beyond the Frozen Sea. And for what reason would the elves be sent from heaven to earth but to rule over the brutish men and lead them into wisdom?
'Now having set themselves up as holy and heavenly, ordained to rule over mankind by virtue of their origins, the elves could not allow anything to contradict their fiction. So they created the story about Evil Lord Xanthur the Conjurer of Lapulia, who hungered for power and sought to slay the elves and burn their trees to the ground. They recorded it in their histories, that Xanthur slew the Elf Father Morta and consumed his heart, thus becoming immortal himself. Then he used his powers to bring all of Dominas under his authority. It was he, they claim, who created the goblins and their cousins the dwarves.
'But this is all a fiction. Invented to hide their own corruption. Xanthur didn't slay Morta. Xanthur WAS Morta. Tired of watching his brethren trod down the mortals as though they were worthless chattel, and tired of having his pleas on their behalves ignored in council, Morta departed from them, swearing off all allegiance. He went to Lapulia and the rule of that land was quickly surrendered to him. There in the great Tower of the Magi, Morta, that is, Xanthur, did many of the evil things of which he is accused. But they were only evil to his enemies, in the same fashion that the deeds of the other elves were evil to their foes. And the motives he was assigned by the other Elf Lords are as incredible as they are untrue. "It was to gain immortality for humans that he railed so hard against the elves," they say. Nay. It was for freedom to live what short lives they had without the shackles of the immortals that Xanthur fought.
'By the fifteen hundredth year after the coming of the Elf Fathers, Xanthur had become more powerful than any of his peers. This he concealed until all of his preparations were completed. On the tenth day of Ninus, in the fifteen hundred and twentieth year of this age, Xanthur unleashed his might against the Verdar Kingdom. He had seduced Lady Wellin, the wife of Kolohi to betray her husband, and thereby ripped the leadership of the kingdom in two. It fell fast and without warning, for Xanthur commanded not only the men of Lapulia, but also the many humans of Olgrost who were discontented and vengeful after being under the subjection of the elves for so many centuries. During the final battle, Kolohi and his two sons vanished, never to be heard from to this day. For some time it was believed that they lay hidden, awaiting the day of their revenge. But as time passed it seemed more likely to historians that they were slain in the battle. Dalia, the beautiful daughter of Dalta was captured and abused by Vantu, Xanthur' most cruel general. This act of barbarism drew upon him the ire of Thuruvis, an Elf Lord of Falruvis' house who was her beloved. He marched against Vantu with his brethren and drove him out of Verdar. Thuruvis made a pact with the dwarves of Zoor in those days and pinned Vantu's army between the Veste and the Zoor mountains. There Thuruvis shattered the golden blade of Vantu and took his revenge. Thus the Verdar Kingdom fell, leaving a vacuum of power in its absence. With the defeat of Vantu, Xanthur' arm in Olgrost was broken, if only for a season.
'The next strike was against the Malent. Upon his own kin Xanthur released the fell monster Galmod, whose origin is unknown. Galmod was longer than a ship, with many thousands of legs. At his mouth he had two piercing claw-like teeth, sharper than the finest elven blade. His skin was like armor, and upon him no weakness could be discovered. He slew every man and woman in Mortara, leaving only the children, who were so cleverly hidden by their parents in the deep places that even the great hunting beast could not discover them. This is the origin, according to the elves, of those legendary Kindent elves, who do not appear to be older than twelve years of age, though they may be older than some of the more venerable elves of other kinds. It was believed that the trauma of the ravages of Galmod had so affected them as to leave them incapable of growth. But whether the elves are right in this or not, I am not now concerned. The son of Morta escaped to the north, according to some legends, and made his way to Cebrost.
'It was in Mortara that Xanthur left his first scar on the Elvish world. He burned the Sacred Tree of the Malent elves to the ground, leaving nothing but it's charred stump. To this day the forest is black and evil in the area where the holy tree once stood.
'About forty years later, Xanthur began his invasion of Illmaria. But Lord Falruvis and his brother had not been idle. They built up the Twin-Kingdoms of Falsis and Solsis, one hidden in the strange valley south of Falsis and the other in the center of Falsis itself, where two great rivers join one another. This Fortress they named Dadron the Great. It was the culmination of nearly a thousand years of wisdom. It had five gates, which were so thick and mighty that the great
est battering ram would bend against them like a blade of grass. The walls were so high that in the lower part of the hill, the sun could scarcely reach the soil. The lowest section of the city was called 'Dusk-town' for it is almost always in shadow, save for a few hours in the afternoon. In the winter the residents of Dusk-town cannot see the sun at all. Dadron was prepared to be the last refuge of the elves against Xanthur.
'Their efforts were not in vain, for Xanthur attacked Luma next, and lay siege to the city for nearly forty years. But the elves held out against him, and in the end, with help from Lord Bralahi and the Verdent Elves of the south, the seige was broken and Xanthur was forced to withdraw for a time. The five sons of Lord Bralahi perished during that siege, and his dear queen passed away from grief upon hearing the news. Since that hour Lord Bralahi has not set foot beyond the border of the Malgier Mountains. But do not err, my Prince, in thinking that Bralahi is the stuff of history; there will come a day when men will either be brought under his power or lay his own mountain to waste. But they shall not do so by any craft they now possess.'
Lord Havoc paused here, as if deep in thought. His chest heaved as though he were overcome with great emotion. But this soon passed and he was able to continue his tale.
'After this, Xanthur turned his wrath suddenly against the Sacred Tree of the Argent, which lay between the mainland of Illmaria and the southern wastes of Amlaman. His wrath was fierce and unstoppable. With Galmod following close behind his army, Xanthur destroyed the Fortress of Holon and sent the great beast to devour the elves. All the wisdom and power of the Argent was set against him, but he tore the elven warriors to pieces. Xanthur set fire to the Argent tree, the smoke of which seemed to choke the whole continent of Illmaria.
But at Holon, the Argent hero Valaris wounded the fell beast Galmod, blinding him with his adamant spear. The beast writhed and bellowed for seven days, tearing down what remained of the Fortress of Holon before finally slithering away eastward and perishing, it is hoped, in the depths of the sea. Xanthur withdrew his army to the south and prepared for his next assault against the Elves.
'With the loss of Holon and the death of the Sacred Tree, the Argent Elves forsook Luma and fled to Dadron. They could hope for no further help from Bralahi, who had lost everything in the siege of Luma. He now spent his efforts shoring up his own defenses, and did not send any armies out to aid the Argent. Xanthur turned his attention at last to that mighty fortress Dadron toward which his whole host now marched.
'Xanthur's advance, however, was stayed by the army of King Joplis and his kinsman Vol, both of whom are your ancestors.
'In one final attempt, Xanthur summoned every ounce of his strength, and every foul creature that he commanded. He broke past the armies of Amlaman and passed through the Amla Gap, drawing every orc and goblin out of the hills to his side. It was said that in those days the whole western part of Falsis was covered by goblins and orcs and evil men, marching to tear the walls of Dadron from their foundation.
'But ere his armies reached the outer walls, the skies rent in half and the Aggelos descended, led by Daryas, the lord of all Aggelos. It was said that they burned every goblin to ashes and Daryas himself slew Xanthur with his flaming sword, casting his soul into the deepest pit of hell. When the Aggelos had finished their war they passed beyond the land of Weldera into the south and lighted upon the peak of the tallest mountain in Cromlanoc, a land of which little is known.
'Thus Dadron was spared, by the coming of the winged warriors of heaven, at just the hour they were in need. And how were they so spared? What assured the lying Argent elves of the favor of heaven? Nothing save for the power of the Naming Stone, which Lord Falruvis had carried over the ocean from the land of the gods. This is the source of the power of the elves, and it is that stone which saved them from Xanthur. And it was also for this stone that Xanthur waged his war. He was defeated only because Lord Falruvis had the courage to use it, if only in that final hour. He was able to summon to his side, an army of heaven's warriors.
'The siege of Dadron in those days is undisputed among historians, both among the elves and among human beings. And it is also undisputed that the armies of Xanthur did not so much as lay a finger on the walls of Dadron. How could so great a foe be defeated without leaving even a scar or a mark on the fortress? Only because it is true that the Aggelos came at that hour to rescue Dadron. And how could they come at just that hour? Only if they were called by Falruvis. So from the indisputable history of the Arbori Wars, we draw the indisputable existence of the Naming Stone of Bel Albor.
Volthamir barely blinked for the entire length of Lord Havoc's speech. But when he paused at last, Volthamir stood up and walked around the room, shaking his head.
'This is no history that I have ever heard, Lord Havoc. I would ask you for proof, but I neither doubt you nor do I desire to spend any more time with long explanations. By your account the elves were not man's benefactors, but rather his taskmasters. You truly see things upside down, Lord Havoc. But when historians make their tales stand up on end, upside down may be where the truth lies hidden. But what on earth could be the purpose of all of this talk of Naming Stones and Elven powers?'
Lord Havoc smiled and sat down in his seat.