Gaia Anvar (Fantasy/fiction)

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Prologue

I feel it in the earth
I scent it in the wind
I feel it underneath the barky skin of the tree
The anxiety; - the earth is trembling at their coming
A shadow, slowly closing around my soul
Suffocating me silently

The world, - the world is changed; grown some might say, others cursed… What once were so is no more as it were! The war is over Earú. Conflicts are rather solved with sharp-edged sword and the crushing head of a hammer, than the seductiveness of a honeysweet tongue.
In the weakness of his human soul the Emperor Mithridates, son of Doffa and descendant of Saêmon the wise, ruler of Ponto strives after power.
Dark creatures, evil humans, and greedy dwarves are all gathering underneath his banner, in hope of achieving just a fragment of his power. Fear is what drives his armies; by the whip, and the tormentors iron-bound solleret his underlings are driven forward in a ruthless expansion of the empire. Hope is no more, and resistance seems futile. Most of the eastern, the most ancient and holy of lands have already fallen into the ironbound fist of the emperor. Though the battle is not lost yet! Faculties of resistance are still to be found, though spread like pollen in a summer breeze…
The hatred the different races amongst witnesses of a division that seems incurable; a division destroying the resistance from within.

50 years proceeding to the story I am about to tell, the last faction of dark-elves were defeated in an epic battle at the gates of Nôd. Thousand of Orcs from the ancient pits of Khala’Din had gathered and marched toward the citadel. All the remaining of the dark-elves were slaughtered that fateful night; all but one! A stormy night came a ragged slave to the forest kingdom of E’êllos, carrying a single burden: The last remaining dark-elf, though just a baby it was a royal baby of ancient lineage of Eonu. “My duty has been fulfilled”, was the last words of the slave, before she died from her wounds. The hatred between Dark-elves and High-elves had always been of the highest intensity, and stood it to most of them the child would have been set out, - at the mercy of the ferocious wolfs. It would most likely have ended so, had it not been for Master Êwan. “I will take care of this child as was it my own”, Êwan thundered to the nobles who had gathered. None dared stand against the will of Êwan, though king Ai’Ôfê would not tolerate letting a dark-elf growing up amongst his people. And so it came to be that Master Êwan was exiled from the forests of E’êllos.
With a large entourage Êwan wandered toward the forest of Andruvía to settle in the ruins of his ancestors, the city of Myth*** Iliya…


Chapter one

A Lightning tore the carbon black skies, and in a glimpse the overwhelming army was revealed.
A stench of blood and sweat filled the air surrounding Anvar. He could taste the fear; it dried out his mouth, and his coarse tongue felt as if it had grown in size.
Another lightning tore the night skies. Anvar felt his heart pounding in his chest. So intense, so painful. It felt as if the space had become to narrow, and his heart fought a furious battle to free itself from its cave. A battle that any minute could result in his ribs splintering and his chest getting torn apart on its way toward freedom.
He felt sick. "So it is time", Anvar mumbled, "Soon I'll be dead". "Honer is all there is left to fight for", said a sad, almost whispering voice by his site.

The rain was falling down in thick and heavy drops. A third lightning stroke down, this time right in front of the main gates. Everything became white around him when the lightning hit the muddy soil with a trembling boast. Scared Anvar covered his face with his hands. He was completely blinded, and the imensive chock had paralyzed his senses. He stood as if frozen.

When the senses slowly returned to him, he was met with a stench of death, excrements and rot. Slowly he forced himself to remove his hands from his face, and was astounded by the sight that met him. What had seconds ago been an army of thousands ands thousands of cruel Orcs from the dark mountains of Khala'Din was gone! Nothing wore the mark of battle had been fought. Not one sign that there had been as much as ONE Orc on the nort-eastern fields.
A thought stroke him, and fearfully Anvar slowly turned on his heels. In the moment his eyes met the sight of his butchered kinsmen, he grabbed at his chest convulsively. A tear slowly fell down his cheek, followed by many more.
Thousands of thoughts ran through his head, and panically Anvar tried to grab one and hang on to it. What? Where? Who? No, no, NO!!!
The beautiful ebony black faces were covered with hardened blood. Torn off limbs and excrements everywhere!
The fine silvery hair was tangled up in horrifying, bloodful lumps.
"No, no" Anvar thought, "I'm insane!". How could this had happened? They were right here!

Anvar fell down to his knees. convulsive twitches ran through his body, followed by a cascade of vomit. Anvar turned his face, which were twitched in a grim expression towards the skies. "WHY!?!", he thundered.
Another lightning boomed across the skies, "Êo, Sinya", he sobbed, "Eliistraê! Thou hast always been protector of my people, what is this I ask?", "qest milo!?!*". Sobbing Anvar fell to the ground, still shacking. "qest milo, qest milo..., he wept again and again. through the tear soaked eyes he saw a light in the horizon. Anvar, who didn't really care anymore, thought it was just another lightning. However, something stroke him as, - odd about this lightning.
With an enormous speed it shot towards the ground, and with a tearing boom it hit the earth.
Still shivering he managed to get to his feet, and wiped the tears away from his bloodshot eyes. A powerful, blinding light on the field in front of the main gates were all he could see; the rest of the world were covered in an impenetrable darkness. Anvar blinked and tried to focus on the light.
"I have really become insane", he though. "By Scylox, I am insane!".
There on field stood a single sword, erect and wedged into the ground. It was a simple sword, not adorned with any diamonds or any such thing, and yet... It shone with an inner force; the light radiated from it with a blinding intensity.
A bursting yet beautiful voice blared in the skies. At first Anvar couldn't distinguish the words from each other, but slowly the voice became more alive, more near. It grew, and lastly Anvar were forced to hold his hands over his ears.

Hear me! all my ancient brethren
Elf, dwarf, and brave a man.
Gather all my holly kinsmen,
against the threat that threatens our land.

The last son of a dying race
a saviour true, one hope one man.
Chaos scatters, gods who wander
save what save we can.

Fair as the tree, dark as the well.
a judges forgiving, yet harsh, fair mouth.
labile like the water, hard as the wind
free, forever and proud.

Strong as an ox, stubborn as the root,
steadfast and ready to right all wrong.
mystical powers, an inner strength,
the stronghold of everyone.

The last son of a dying race
born in the fourth day of Nônnaê**
never will he stop, nor give up
Till darkness waves goodbye


Gaia Anvar, last hope of the free world

Gaia Anvar, last hope of the free world

Gaia Anvar

The divine voice repeated the last sentence over and over again; each time rising an octave, and Anvar felt his eardrum burst. The voice grew unmercifully in strength, and was now naught but a wail in his ears. The last Anvar heard was the sound of his skull bursting into thousands of pieces...
-----------------------------------
* qest milo . whop am I
** Nônnaê - August
*** myth - Ruin(s)
'ê' is pronounced [ei]
'ô' is pronounced [oh]
Êo - Kind of an overgod
Eliistraê - the demi-goddes of poetry, music, and such.
Scylox - The demi-god of creativity.

[ September 06, 2005, 14:03: Message edited by: olimikrig ]