“He used dark magic to warp and transform what beasts of the earth he could capture, and soon he had an army of loyal and horrible servants, dark creatures that roamed the world searching out the good only to destroy it.
“The ancestors of the creatures that Ciarrohn created still roam the earth to this very day. The boarlaque, for instance, is one such creature thought to be a result of his many creations.”
Jahrra shivered as she imagined the fearsome boarlaque, a great, bear-like beast that lived in the mountains and terrorized villages, looking for victims.
“Living beings weren’t the only things influenced by the god of the dead,” the Mystic went on. “All of the evil spirits hidden away during the daylight hours are his minions as well. They avoid the light and brightness of day, and once every year, they come out at night and walk among us. You see, Sobledthe is not just a festival to celebrate the ending and beginning of a new year and the joy of a good harvest. It is also a time to remember the dark spirits and creatures of the earth, and on Sobledthe Eve, they wait in the shadows to capture an unsuspecting soul.”
Denaeh whispered this last sentence harshly, her young face looking very demonic and shrewd. Jahrra, Gieaun and Scede were entranced, and all three of them were afraid to breathe, in case one of these evil spirits was waiting to pounce on them the moment they did.
The Mystic stood suddenly from her dramatic pose, causing everyone to jump. After a several seconds she continued on in a more normal voice, “And so, many remember the Harvest Day not only as a celebration of Ethoes herself, but also as a time to be wary of the creatures of darkness. For on the very day of this sacred festival, long, long ago, Ciarrohn and his underlings gained absolute power and corrupted many of the beings living in this world.
“He sent his horrible grouldahs, a terrifying wolf-like, skeletal creature with a mane like a horse running down its back, to the far corners of the world to kill those who didn’t acknowledge him as the supreme god. Fortunately, many of those who opposed Ciarrohn survived this hunt, but they lived on in fear and darkness.
“Many years passed, and Ciarrohn became lazy, assuming that all in the land obeyed him. But it was the dragon Traagien that finally overthrew him. He destroyed the god’s mortal form and hurled him down upon the western coast of Ethoes, his body becoming the Elornn and Thorbet Mountain ranges. This is why the Crimson King does not dare come to this part of Ethoes. It is a cursed place in the eyes of Ciarrohn.”
Denaeh paused and looked at the attentive children. She smiled in spite of herself, and continued on, “But, the following peace would not last, unfortunately. A young boy had been born in the east, and he would grow to become a tyrant and a ruthless ruler, his father having already been tainted by Ciarrohn’s power. You see, the god had his sights set on this young boy, this child who would one day wreak havoc against the world once again.”
Denaeh’s voice quavered a little as she spoke, but Jahrra and her friends were too captivated to notice.
“No one knows why Ciarrohn chose him,” she continued, releasing a deep breath. “Like I said before, many suspected this young man to be the evil god’s own son, but it could never be proven. Time passed and the hateful boy grew into a cruel man. With the help of his father and those still loyal to Ciarrohn, he overthrew the elfin king of the east and began to gain power.
“He captured what dragons he could find, the creatures that helped defeat his master, and began breeding them, creating his own warrior race. The terror and fear began to spread once more. This is the day the whole world changed.”
Denaeh paused again, but this time she was not smiling. She was frowning and Jahrra noticed a glimmer of sorrow in her eyes. She watched silently as the Mystic’s features became almost glazed; as if she had been swept back to some other time, leaving the shell of her body behind.
Jahrra suddenly wondered how far back Denaeh’s own history reached. She couldn’t be sure how old her eccentric friend was, but she had some idea about the lifespan of Mystics. Denaeh had told her a little about her kind once, hinting that once a woman became a Mystic, she also became immortal. Jahrra just wondered how long ago Denaeh became one of the mage-kind.
The ancient woman, currently in her youthful guise, drew in a sharp breath and let it out on a long sigh. She blinked her eyes several times and seemed to come out of her trance.
“Now, where was I?” she said, smiling faintly and looking as if she was fighting back tears.
Jahrra felt awkward and glanced at Gieaun and Scede to assess their reactions. Gieaun was staring at her hands, folded and resting awkwardly in her lap. Scede just shrugged and looked back at Denaeh, but his eyes didn’t meet the Mystic’s.
Jahrra looked timidly up from where she rested her chin on her knees. “Um, you were at the part in the story where the Crimson King first came into power.”
“That’s right, forgive me. It was so long ago and I sometimes forget the story.”
The three children nodded, and Denaeh continued on with her tale. Forget the story? Jahrra thought to herself. Denaeh never forgets anything, no matter how long ago it happened. Jahrra shook these thoughts out of her mind and listened to the Mystic continue on with her tale.
“The new tyrant king, who had come to be known as Cierryon, began spreading his evil throughout the land. But just like Ciarrohn before him, Cierryon became languid and arrogant and soon his opponents were plotting against him. The Korli dragons, along with the races of men, elves, and dwarves, were rallying together to defeat the dreadful oppressor they called the Crimson King. They knew that Traagien, long ago, had defeated a powerful god. If one dragon could destroy a god, then what kind of damage could several dragons do against a mere mortal?
“Their attempts were all in vain however, for the first war against the king failed, and many lives were lost against his battle-bred Morli dragons. Like a dormant volcano, the Crimson King erupted, the wrath and anger that had been held at bay for so many years poured out into the world, raining hatred and anguish down upon the people of Ethoes.
“It was a time of terror, darker and more fearful than anyone could ever remember. For years, the Tyrant’s minions roamed free upon the land, seeking out the weak, the poor and the down-trodden, sucking away any joy or happiness that graced their meager lives. Several years passed before anyone, mortal or immortal, dared to challenge the king again. It was the king of the Tanaan race of humans who finally decided to act. The good king of the west gathered his soldiers, all of his best fighting men and seven of his eight sons, and traveled to confront the evil king in the east. He left behind his kingdom, his queen and his ten year old boy, the youngest of the eight. The small prince begged to go, but the wise king knew the battle field was no place for a child.
“The Tanaan king and his men fought bravely, but one cannot simply defeat an enemy who is immortal. Cierryon had earned the power and favor of the dormant deity Ciarrohn, and he’d become as invincible as a god himself. The Tanaan king and his allies perished in the land of Ghorium, and when word of this awful defeat reached the people of the west, the land fell deeper into despair. The queen took this news the hardest and died shortly after of a broken heart. Her son, the last Tanaan prince, was left alone with his suffering people; alone except for a wise Korli dragon who had been the lost king’s own mentor and one of his majesty’s most loyal vassals. The dragon, devastated by the king’s death, looked after the boy, caring for him and teaching him about the ways of the world.