Chapter Six: The Great Winter

 

  

Ely truly believed he could put an end to the ills in the south if he brought the blade into play, an idea Blyord dismissed out of hand when Ely suggested it previously.

“No blade – regardless of how powerful – can end the evil that stirs from beneath the Dales,” Blyord said.

“But this is the sword of Suna, a god,” Ely said.

“The darkness of the Dales may well be equal or even surpass the powers that were entrusted to the blade,” the wizard argued. At best, I think, the blade can only resist the onslaught, if used wisely to defend the land – which is why I want it kept here. If it wanders into the wider world, it may become an evil thing in itself.”

“Are you suggesting I might turn to evil?”

“I’m saying the sword is only as powerful as the hand that wields it,” the wizard said. “Wisdom comes with time and experience.”

“But the legends foretell that the king who uses it will become one of the greatest kings.”

“I do not believe the blade can instill greatness,” the wizard said. “The king must attain greatness first.”

So, the disappointed Ely had gone south without it.

Although bitter, Ely still fell under the sway of the wizard’s wisdom, assuming the wizard could see more of what went on in the world than he could.

War in the south taught him differently, and while Ely had accomplished much in battles to hold back the army of Htam, he soon realized without some more powerful intervention, the war would eventually come north to Taffar and its colonies, and to the borders of Amlor as well.

Even as he had ridden north to the harbor that brought him home, whole lands burned under the attack of Htam, whose armies were bolstered by powerful magic emanating from the heart of the Dales.

This news Ely carried with him as he stepped through the final doors into the throne room and into the presence of his father, the king.

A massive gold dome hung over the round room, glowing from steady blazes in three of the four large hearths to either side of the stone throne across from the doors through which Ely entered.

The flicker of the flames made the room alive with dancing shadows, flames highlighting images on the walls that continued the great stories of the past, as if the heroes in each had come to life.

The king, who sat on the throne – up a dozen steps and towering over the space before him, looked different from the king Ely had abandoned, older, more worn, his once gray beard gone mostly white.

He hardly seemed the equal of the line of Amlorian kings carved into the columns that encircled the room. His eyes alone bore the old fury Ely recalled, dark as bits of coal, calculating, almost laughing with their rage.

“So, the wandering prince has come home,” the kind said, voice cracking like breaking twigs.

“I have returned, father,” Ely said, making note of the other, older, grayer and more bent figure standing beside the king’s throne, the wizard’s fingers clutching one arm of the king’s throne as if for support.

As with the king, Blyord’s eyes suggested he should not be mistaken for weakened just because of his age, always wary, studying the prince as the prince crossed the room to the foot of the stairs.

Ordinary men, even those in armor that guarded the king, might have mistaken these two old men as figures long passed their prime, part of that already fading generation that would soon find the grave. But they would not fade away any time soon.

Ely knew little of the wizard’s past, save for rare references, as if Blyord had seen the long history he taught to instill in Ely, from a time before The Great Winter, before the fall of Suna, as if he had borne witness to those events himself.

“We suspected Suna was in part behind the rise of the other races,” Blyord once said. “At least, that’s what the elves believed since many of these races praised Suna as their god.”

“But you told me others believed there was another force that created them,” Ely said.

“The dwarves believe there was another unseen god who created these out an underworld.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I think it was a mistake for Amlor and Toush to allow Suna to take a physical form,” the wizard said. “They believed Suna could make the elder races – the elves and others – honor with wishes of the gods. But evil rarely serves such positive purposes. The wars that ensued caused many men and dwarves to migrate south. The High Elves alone stood firm and eventually – with great courage – defeated Suna’s armies in the north, and with what scattered elf army that remained, pursued the Queen Witch to the south where they slew her.”

“You speak about her dying, but often talk about her influence later.”

“They killed her in her physical form,” the wizard said.  “Suna’s spirit remained, and she was furious about the uprising. She went back to the other gods and demanded they inflict punishment.”

“Why would they if Suna was evil?”

“Because they were shaken,” Blyord said. “Never did they foresee a time when their own creations could become capable of killing a god.”

Elves were banished to the lower realms. But not all elves complied. The Jovoian Elves, commonly called Red Elves, resisted, but eventually were defeated.

“And you saw all this?” Ely asked.

“I saw much,” the wizard said. “Much else lies in the archives here in Amlor assembled by the high elves when they occupied this place.”

Blyord remained in Amlor on account of those records, and spent much of his time among them, searching for something, he would not divulge, an answer to some ancient riddle he would not utter even to Ely.

They brought down upon the world the Great Winter, Blyord recalled, what should have been sleeping to heal wounds became a greater irritant, to men, elves even the hearty dwarves, and yet, the evil things many believe Suna wrought, did sleep.

For 1,500 years, the magic of the elves in Clyan as well as those across the sea, not merely maintained by somehow thrived, bringing glory and abundance, marking the pinnacle of elf power in the world, while winter wailed around them, their small bubbles had perpetual spring within.

Human kind survived as it always had, clinging to the edges, struggling day by day, though learning to resent the elves for their luxury of spring, while the deep chill kept man from doing more than survive, unable to build the great cities once imagined by their kind.

Many believes, as Blyord did, that the corruption that eventually infected the elves in their glory days came from the sleeping evil, its influence seeping into them through the lesser elf leaders.

By the first thaw, elf power had passed it zenith. Their power to influence others had faded and they no longer had a monopoly on warmth. Mankind began to sprout in greater numbers and in the south, great tribes roamed. Hunting was good. Out from the deep caverns of the mountains, the dwarves came, laying claim to all mountains, not just those from which they sprung.

When the second freeze came two hundred years later, the dwarves had delved into many more mountains, building massive hidden cities among the stone. The hidden city of Alia became a powerful leader in the winter world.

Despite the thaw, human kind was hardly better off than it had been, caught now between two powers: the elves and the dwarves, begging favors from both, getting little from either.

And still, evil slept. But not comfortably.

Over the next thousand years, dwarf empires rose and fell, often engaged in extended wars with the elves for control of mountains and valleys were rich deposits of ore could be found.

Lana, Lade and Krath Forest – guarded by their precious stones – became islands under siege, their leadership becoming more and more corrupt.

But the same corruption touched dwarves as well, often causing one tribe to fight another, so that by the time the second thaw came, there were many petty kingdoms feuding.

This thaw lasted 500 years, during which human kind advanced, building castles, armies, learning from both dwarf and elf skills needed to build a civilization. By the time the last leg of the Great Winter came – a mild leg at that – human kind had built ten thousand tiny kingdoms around the shores of the gulf, each with a petty enchanter, vying for power.

Anger and weakness, and resentment at the gods caused humans to turn to the sleeping evil for powers not granted them.  Through the enchanters, evil woke and began to spread.

Some believed the enchanters had become the manifestation of evil that could not yet defy the will of the gods to fully wake.

For nine hundred years, elves, dwarves and men fought using magic and sword.

These were called the wars of Enchantment, bloody, frightening, terrible clashes that left isles of dissatisfied spirits whose souls refused to settle.

But by the end of these wars, evil clearly felt strong enough to reappear opening, terrifying even the most powerful sorcerers who began to align themselves with elves to ward it off.

This terrified the gods themselves since they began to realize a depletion in their power, their spells no longer able to keep the world sleeping.

Just when all elves, dwarves, men and others believed they had achieved a precarious balance that would allow them to live in an uncertain peace, Rahm came.

All these things and more, Blyord had seen and survived, many of which had fallen into the realm of legend and lore, but he knew as fact, and yet more importantly, he knew what place the current events would play in them, and what role Ely had to take – but dared not tell the prince or it might never occur.

 

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