I travelled across one of their larger nations, learning the language as I travelled; fortunately, there are many nations and languages on this world, so someone who spoke oddly barely brought notice.
We know so little of these creatures, these humans I found them fascinating.
The Regent Lord looked at the magic user, his gaze narrowing. While the ancient Spell Weavers were venerated and honoured for their work transforming this harsh world, those like Laromendis and his brother Gulamendis were viewed with caution approaching fear. Anything connected with the dark arts, or indeed anything that those Conjurers and Demon Masters found fascinating was likely to be viewed with suspicion. Why? He asked.
There are many reasons, mlord. But foremost is their magic. It is varied beyond calculation; they seize the power of the world and bend it to their will in so many ways, it staggers the mind.
There are those who use arts much like our own; I wondered at first if elves had been their first teachers, but there are others called Greater Path magicians, who have no subtlety, no grace in their craft, yet possess vast power. It is difficult to explain to one not given to magic.
The Regent Lord nodded. By nature elves were at one with the natural magic of their race, but circumstances had forced the People to adapt, to change their ways. Now among the taredhel there were those, like the two brothers, who hungered for power. And there were those, like the Regent Lord, who had sacrificed any understanding of the arts so that they might bend their will instead to serving the People in other ways.
Tell me of the humans later, said the Leader of the Clans of the Seven Stars. Tell me more of our people now. You said the the Forgotten exist there?
So it would seem, said the magic user. Humans know so little about our kind, but I could piece together some understanding of how our brethren fare.
Humans call the Forgotten The Brotherhood of the Dark Path.
The Regent Lord nodded. An apt name if the secret lore is true He hesitated, realizing he had inadvertently uttered a blasphemy.
There have been many debates among the Farseeing over whether the secret lore is literal or metaphor. With that simple remark, he let the Regent Lord know he understood the comment and would make no issue of it. Given the current situation among the People, any hint of disorder brought swift and harsh punishment; it was why his brother currently languished in a dark cell. Then again, Laromendiss younger brother always had a tendency to speak first and think later; a bad trait in one who immersed himself in demon lore at a time when demons threatened to obliterate the People.
What did you learn of the Forgotten?
Little, to the humans the Brotherhood is almost a myth, though I did encounter a traveller from Yabon, a city far to the north of a realm known as the Kingdom, and he swore that he had once seen those unspeakable beings.
The Forgotten war against our brethren, said the Conjurer, his tone betraying a hint of his anger and disgust. I walked the land listening to gossip in taverns, buying drinks for sailors, speaking with priests and anyone else who might know ancient lore. In one place I found an abbey dedicated to a god, but their wards were two strong for my guise to endure, so I could not enter. But I encountered one of their members on the road and questioned him. He was a monk and his mind was disciplined, but eventually it yielded most of what I learned of their ancient lore, which I now share with you.
Did you kill him?
Of course, said the Conjurer. He was merely a human, after all.
No dishonour, agreed the Regent Lord. Killing a prisoner would only be dishonourable if they were of the People or of a race considered equal.
The Forgotten war against the ones most like us, who abide in a forest grove they call Elvandar.
At the utterance of that word, the Regent Lords eyes shone with emotion. He said the name softly, Elvandar. It meant Home of the People, but echoed with deeper meaning.
In ages past, the People had served another race, the dreadful Valheru, and had endured slavery and degradation. Then came a great upheaval, a war in which the very fabric of time and space was rent and chaos reigned.
The ancestors of the taredhel, called edhel in their own tongue, were among the mightiest of the servants of the Valheru. They were the spellweavers, the masters of the groves, the keepers of the land, and the librarians of their masters power. Many of those who had served with their masters had perished on other worlds, though it was thought that a few had escaped and found refuge. It was the faint hope that there were others like them, out among the stars, that had driven a band of edhel to escape the Valheru through one of the tears in space and time.
To Andcardia they had come, a band of no more than two thousand magic users, hunters, and their families. It was a harsh land, but eventually they made it their own. As centuries passed, they prospered and eventually numbered in millions.
In the past few centuries, they had learned the secrets of translocation magic, tearing the fabric of the universe. No fewer than a dozen magic users had died mastering the art, but they could now stabilize the rifts and explore new worlds; some were inhospitable, others barely able to support life. A few had showed promise and upon them the Clans of the Seven Stars had established colonies. Some of those colonies had grown and were even flourishing.
The People had thrived, and when they encountered other races, they tolerated them as long as they did not oppose their will. If they did not comply, the other races were crushed. All had been glorious, until they found the world of demons.
Those in Elvandar serve a Queen continued the Conjurer.
The Regent Lords eyes went wide. She dares!
She outlived her king, said the Conjurer, quickly. He may have been of the line.
The remark hit the Regent Lord like a physical blow. His eyes filled with even more emotion. Among the most ancient, sacred lore of the taredhel was the story of the first king and queen of the People, a couple who had shepherded them safely through the early chaos of the war that had driven the eldar from Home.
Little was known about them, save their deeds and names, which would never be mentioned aloud, lest their spirits be disturbed; but they had been recorded in the annals, and read by every lorekeeper and regent lord. Her name?
They say it is Aglaranna.
The Gift, said the Regent Lord.
The Conjurer said, It also means Bright Moon, for the largest of the three moons on that world is known by that name, the Gift.
The Regent Lord shouted, Send for the Loremaster! To the Conjurer, he said, Continue, but do not speak of this or the Forgotten until I summon the Meeting.
What of these humans who thrive like mice? Have they a ruler?
The humans live in many nations, with many rulers. They war amongst themselves on a regular basis, it seems.
That is good, said the Regent Lord calmly. What else?
The dwarves live at peace with their neighbours and are content to do so as long as they remain untroubled. There are also goblins and other such creatures.
Goblins?
Lea Orcha, said Laromendis.
Shaking his head in near disbelief, he said, My father raised me to be a pious man, like all of our line, yet I will confess to have been guilty of doubt. Lea Orcha, or goblins, were nightmare creatures, conjured as bedtime stories to frighten children into being obedient.
Lea Orcha, said Laromendis.
Shaking his head in near disbelief, he said, My father raised me to be a pious man, like all of our line, yet I will confess to have been guilty of doubt. Lea Orcha, or goblins, were nightmare creatures, conjured as bedtime stories to frighten children into being obedient.
They worship dark, ancient gods and spill blood in sacrifice. They consort with trolls and other inferior races.
Goblins how have they never been exterminated?
The magic user shrugged, a human gesture he had picked up and which caused the Regent Lord to frown. I dont know, he said softly. There is so much discord and warfare among the human tribes, they hardly seem to have time to deal with goblins.
The Regent Lord indicated he should continue.
This world is known by several names in different tongues, but most commonly it is called Midkemia: a human word.
The land I showed you in my vision is a valley in the mountains called the Grey Towers. This valley was once home to the Forgotten. A human tribe called the Tsurani drove them northward, and they have never returned. To the south live dwarves, but there are natural barriers between the valley and the dwarves territory. Some ancient mines still link them, but they have been abandoned and are easily defended. To the north there are paths and trails leading where our evil kin abide.
Once established in this valley we may range far and wide. To the east live humans in a federation called the Free Cities. They are poorly organized and ripe for conquest.
The danger lies to the west, for there lies the outpost region of perhaps the mightiest human nation He stopped speaking as the Regent Lord raised his hand.
An elderly male dressed in flowing robes entered the room carrying an ancient tome, inside which the history of the People had been recorded since the Time Before. His eyes were dim with age and behind him strode a younger male, his heir, who when not assisting the Loremaster studied, preparing himself for the day he would assume the responsibility of that office.
Both bowed before the Regent Lord, who said, Midkemia. Do we know that world?
The Loremaster paused for a moment as his assistant leaned over to whisper something. Speak aloud! demanded the Regent Lord. No one hides a word from me in my court.
The younger elf looked abashed, and said, I beg my lords forgiveness. I meant no slight. It is just that I have studied some of the earlier passages more recently and recall seeing that name.
The Loremaster waved away his apprentices apology. His name is Tandarae, Regent Lord; he is young, and perhaps a little rash, but his memory is as keen as mine was in my prime. The older historians face was wan and his eyes watered. Soon this office shall be his, and I recommend him to you.
The younger historian bowed low before his master and the Regent Lord.
Very well, he said to Tandarae. What do you know of this world?
In the time before time, began the younger historian reciting the ritualized words of the most ancient of myths, before fleeing the Wrath, the People abided.
Slaves were we in our Home, ruled by cruel masters, the Lords of Power, the Dragonriders.
Then came the Wrath and the skies were torn, and the Dragonriders rose to contest a great war. Many of the People perished and many were lost among the stars, left behind when our masters returned to the Home to struggle with the Wrath. As the war continued, said the young Loremaster closing his eyes as if he read from the ancient text in his mind, many lesser beings, Dakan Shoketa, Dena Orcha, and Dostan Shuli, came to Home across a golden bridge, feeling the Wrath as it descended on the world.
He stopped and said, Midkemia is a word used by the Dakan Soketa, my lord, the ancient word of our People for humans. The humans called our home world, Midkemia.
The Regent Lord closed his eyes, as if praying silently. Then he said, It is Home! To Laromendis he said, Tell us more of this valley, the one you showed me.
The magic user nodded. To the west lie the westernmost garrisons of that nation I spoke of, the Kingdom. The humans there mostly reside in three small cities, barely larger than our towns, Tulan, Carse, and Crydee. They are well fortified. We can isolate them by land, but they have a vast navy and can be sustained by sea. We shall need to strike all three fortresses quickly to seize them.
At the right time. But first we need a secure bridgehead on the Home world and devise a plan to give us more time. He thought about how the great Barrier Spell, the sphere that stalled the advancing Demon Legion, was weakening to the north. It had been breached three times in the last ten years, and in the last report had failed to the far west for a short time. The fighting had been brutal and many of the People had paid a terrible price while the magicians repaired the breach. It would fail everywhere eventually, so time was not an abundant commodity. Guile and wit would have to serve until other forces could be brought to bear. Looking at Laromendis, he said, The plan for conquest will be considered, and perhaps an accommodation with those already in residence upon Home is in order. But that is for others to consider. Upon you I must place different burdens.
I will serve, my lord, answered the magic user.
We are hard pressed. Our enemies have driven us out of Thandar Keep, so Modaria has fallen.
The Conjurer said nothing, but the slight tension around his eyes asked the question. No one survived, the Regent Lord said softly.
Modaria was the last of the outpost worlds, so now the entirety of the People remained on Andcardia. We made them pay dearly, but as it has always been, for each of them we lose three warriors. His deep voice took on an almost plaintive tone as he said, We need a safe haven, Conjurer. Is this such a place?
There was a moments silence, and Undalyn demanded, Speak! Is this a safe haven?
There are demon signs. Not recent, but demons have been there.
The Regent Lord threw back his head in rage and torment and let forth a howl of pure barbaric anger and pain. Is there no refuge?
Only signs, my lord, said the magician. I found no demons.
How can that be? said the Regent Lord as he fixed his dark gaze on the magician.
In my travels I saw many lands, heard many stories. A century ago, a demon lord reached this land, but he was without a battle host. He took the guise of a woman, a queen of the humans, and conquered a third of that world before he was stopped.
A magician of vast power, aided by other magicians and a human army, defeated the demon and threw him down.
The Regent Lord sat back, his head cocked to one side as he listened, and he shook his head slightly as he said, Just one demon. That is unusual. He was silent for a moment, then said, But even one means more may follow.
I bring hope too, my lord. For there are hints in the stories that the demon did not come to that realm by conjuration, but rather through a gate.
The demon gate! spat the Regent Lord. That tale grows old, Conjurer. It is but a fantasy to explain the demons presence among the mortals and absolve those like your brother. Every Master of Lore since the time before time has avowed that demons cannot come to this realm unbidden! I will hear no more of this blasphemy, lest you wish to end up with the same fate as your brother!