Song of the Sword, Of Wars, Ansei, and the Ra Gada Options

[Destri Melarg]

Song of the Sword

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION and PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE: OF THE HORSE AND OF THE RAT

* * * * *

INTRODUCTION

“An adventure can only truly begin three ways: by death, by slur, or by letter.” – Dylxexes the Younger, of the First Era.


I am not a man given to contemplation of the gods. For most of the long years of my life I inhabited my sphere of activity and influence and I allowed them to do the same. It suited me that the moments when those spheres intersected were few and far between. So you can imagine the emotions I now feel as I tell you that recent events have forced me to reevaluate those views forged over a lifetime of scholarship.

As to those events, they were set in motion by a letter from my publisher, Melius Kane. This letter, which came to me by messenger, was noteworthy in the fact that it contained two surprises. The first was an effusive congratulation on the success of my most recent work, Redguards, Their History and Their Heroes. Given his initial reluctance to my publishing the work his praise now struck me as disingenuous. The second surprise was his invitation to accompany him on a cruise to Hammerfell. There was a playwright in Sentinel whose collected works he desperately wanted to publish, and he thought that I might appreciate a visit to my homeland, which I had not seen since I was one and nine. What he didn’t say at the time was that he thought that arriving at the playwright’s home in the company of Destri Melarg would increase his chances of acquiring the aforementioned works.

Now I must impress upon you that I alone amongst my race am cursed with a complete lack of sea legs. Travel by boat is as anathema to me as fire is to a vampire. But the thought of a return to Hammerfell stirred a forgotten longing within my soul, and the idea that the trip would be paid for by the gold of my reluctant publisher appealed to my sense of poetic justice. So I agreed to go, little knowing how much of my life would be altered by such a simple decision.

On a cold and dreary Rain’s Hand Fredas with storm clouds obscuring the mid-day sun Melius and I shared a carriage to the Waterfront District. There we boarded the Prince Juilek bound for Hegathe via Stros M’Kai. I would tell you more of her Captain and crew, but I have no real memory of them. What I do have is a series of vague images of blurred faces that periodically visited my cabin during the interminable parts of the voyage when I was, shall we say, indisposed. Their sympathetic words were not nearly as soothing to my tempers as the damp towels which were gratefully used to cool my feverish brow.

My illness proved fortuitous, however. Because of it I missed the series of massive storms that claimed four of the Juilek’s crew and caused her to be buffeted off course by several hundred leagues. My fever finally broke with the last of the storms so that I emerged upon deck to sunny skies, and a breathtaking view of the Eltheric Ocean.

While I admired the view I cast the first grateful prayers to Kynareth that I had ever uttered. The Captain ordered the lowering of the Juilek’s anchor while he disappeared into his cabin to ascertain our exact position. Melius joined me on the rail, looking as green and miserable as I had felt until that morning. We commiserated and tried to determine what insult we had given Zenithar that he would choose to make us attendant upon such an ill-fated vessel.

The Captain emerged from his cabin and ordered the weighing of the anchor. He held a rolled map in his hand and gazed east into the rising sun. After several futile tries it was determined that the anchor was stuck on something below. No amount of twisting, pulling, or jerking was sufficient to worry it free. One of the Argonian crewmen dived overboard, tasked with the responsibility of dislodging it. We waited for what seemed like hours as the sun slowly gained its perch directly above us. When the Argonian finally surfaced he informed us that the Juilek was resting directly above the hull of a ship of unfamiliar design that sank many years before. The Juilek’s anchor was caught in the bowels of this derelict wreck and it was beyond his power to free it. He also told us that a search of the wreck had produced two chests that might still contain something of value.

As anyone who has ever spent any time aboard a ship knows, nothing spurs a crew to action quite like the words ‘sunken chest’. Within scant moments two water-logged chests were being hauled out of the water by ropes which the entire crew had a hand in pulling. The first was a half-rotted wooden chest that when opened deposited a cargo of muddy water upon the deck. Beyond the water a pair of crewmen pulled sodden rags and what remained of ancient shoes from the chest.

The other chest was different. It required the entire crew, Captain included, to haul it from its watery grave. As it crashed upon the deck we could see that it was made of pure ebony. It was an extraordinary piece of craftsmanship whose worth was not lost on even the dullest member of the crew. An unfamiliar symbol which looked very much like an official seal adorned the sides and the top of the lid. It took five strong men to slide it across the deck. We broke two daggers and a sword prying loose the lock. When finally we succeeded in opening it I think we all gasped. Everything inside was as dry as the day the chest had been sealed.

Inside the bounty that met our eyes caused several of the crew to moan and lament our bad fortune, before turning back to the task of freeing the anchor. The Captain simply shook his head. I looked to Melius; he was rubbing his hands back and forth as if in some type of fugue. A broad smile nearly split his face in half. It was a smile that I knew mirrored my own.

The chest was filled with scrolls, parchments, correspondence, manifests, and journals. All were in pristine condition and all were written in the hand of Yokuda. My knowledge of the language was sadly rudimentary, but I recognized it from my research into Redguards. At the bottom of the chest more than a dozen smooth gray stones, each as large as a man’s hand, lay warm to the touch.

I don’t remember much after that. I don’t remember freeing the anchor, or the weeks spent sailing east to Stros M’Kai. I don’t remember the deal that Melius brokered with the Captain that allowed us to keep the contents of the chest, in exchange for the chest itself. All I remember is the dim light in my cabin, trying to decipher the journals, and listening to the music of the forgotten language contained in the memory stones.

I sit here now in the study of my childhood home, surrounded by the notes and translations made by the too few I could find who still speak Yokudan. I write these words with a new found gratitude to the gods of my ancestors that they have chosen me as the vessel through which the testimony of those aboard the last ship to sail in the Ra Gada can now be given. I seek no honors for the duty that I now perform, a fact which will doubtlessly vex Melius when he returns from the playwright’s home in Sentinel. With your permission I now step aside, and allow these noble people to tell their story with their own thoughts, and in their own words.

Destri Melarg
Rihad, Hammerfell 3E 109

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PROLOGUE: AJCEA

From the Memory Stone of Lionel Onsi:

The storm rages beyond the window of my cabin. I have spoken to the Captain; he swears that an island lies due west only a few leagues hence. But the sea has taken the mast and oars are useless in these swells. I fear it is only a matter of time before we are lost beneath the waves.

It seems strange that my life should end in this way, to survive The Hammer and the Anvil and the threat of the Hiradirge. To pull myself from the slums of Kanesh to the heights of Sword Sainthood only to see my spark engulfed in the waves of the Eltheric Ocean. Such is the way of things, I suppose. I have lived full and well, and my lone regret is that I won’t end this life on the point of a sword. But even that regret is assuaged by the fact that I will pass into the afterlife in the arms of my beloved.

The Captain says that he will place this stone with the others in the royal chest. It seems that even that she-serpent Elisa has now surrendered to the inevitable. It will prove difficult to part with; I have carried it almost all the days of my life. Upon it I have recorded all of my thoughts and experience. Perhaps it will be found someday by one who will understand. Yes our mistakes were born of our passions, but so were our triumphs. Can one separate the two . . .?

A sudden wind claims the light in my cabin. The open portal slams against the wall. My time grows short; I must take this stone to the Captain and then find Belakani. I am Lionel Onsi do Kanesh Hel Ansei in the twenty-first year of the serpent 2440, and these are the last thoughts recorded into my memory stone. I go now to compose my death poem.

“To any who would find this stone, may you find peace and protection with the unknown gods of war.”

_____

From the Memory Stone of Belakani:

Blessed Morwha, I can see it in his eyes. Lionel tries to hide the worst from me but his eyes can never hold a lie, it is why I love him so. That love is why I can feel so at peace even now knowing that the hour of our death is at hand. Against Tava’s wrath my Shehai amounts to nothing. My death poem waits to be composed, but I am not daunted. For we face the eternal night together, as we have faced so much before. Even the might of the sea is not enough to still the flame that always draws me to him.

Perhaps the other ships have met with more fortuitous seas than ours. If the Ra Gada should fail then the sun sets on all Yokudans. I must not despair; our people will find the lands to the east, we will tame that land, and we will prosper. Lionel and I will never lay eyes on this new land that our people will call home, but that is Pappa’s will now. I would rather die a single death with him than live for countless ages in a land without him. Here at the edge of our world, so far from all that we have known, I feel at peace.

There is much that I have not told him. While he chased the remnants of the Hiradirge through the Sea of Pearls I saw what they did to Yokuda. I felt the ground tremble in its dying throes. I saw the blood pour from Mount Hatta, and I choked on the ash that filled the sky. Let him die believing that Yokuda will rise again.

“It will be my burden to know the truth.”

The ship begins to list, soon the ocean will invade. If, in the ages to come, someone were to find this stone know that I was Belakani do Noni Hel Ansei No Shira, Diplomat, Sword-Singer, and second level Ansei. Know that I passed from this life at peace, in the arms of my beloved and in the grace of the unknown gods of war.

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From the Memory Stone of Elisa, First Consort to Hira, Emperor of Yokuda:

“I come to you, my lord, my love. The sea enters the ship; it will not be long now. May Tu’whacca find my soul and lead it into your waiting arms, Hira, so that we may walk the far shores forever entwined.”

Surely we are favored of the gods. They punish the Singers for their insolence. In killing you they laid their own world to waste. That is the justice that they have earned, and I lack a single tear to shed on their behalf.

“Let the others go screaming in the night. Death shall find me as calm as the sea after the storm. I shall rejoice as Tu’whacca leads me to your side, beloved, and together we shall rule for all eternity.”

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Jun 1 2010, 05:57 AM

[Destri Melarg]

Thank you all for your wonderful comments. As I mentioned elsewhere, I have struggled with the format of this story a bit. Combined with my concentration on Interregnum new work on this story has slowed to a crawl. I won't promise an increase in the frequency of the updates, but I will promise that I will keep working on it.

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From the Personal Correspondence of Emperor Hira: Report of Doniel, Captain of the Kanesh City Guard:

18/5/20th Rat, 2408

As per orders a company was dispatched to the waterfront to intercept the delegation from Noni. Under the guise of a security detail the delegation was placed into custody and brought to the royal palace without incident. Within the walls of the palace the company, assisted by the palace guard, attempted to disarm the small security detail attached to the delegation. Two members of the Noni guard drew swords, and battle was joined. Due to superior numbers most of the delegation fell beneath the combined swords of the city guard and the palace guard. Ambassador Bokene and three members of the Noni delegation were forced to the foot of the grand staircase where they were surrounded and ordered to relinquish their weapons.

Ambassador Bokene held out both hands in a gesture of compliance. Then his hands began to glow with a golden light so bright that it caused the men standing before him to shield their eyes before the glare. The light coalesced and twisted between his hands, forming itself into the appearance of a wide sword with a crescent blade. With this weapon Ambassador Bokene was able to lead the remaining Noni delegates free of the castle, decimating the city guard and slaying several members of the palace guard in the process.

Last reports indicate that the surviving members of the Noni delegation have fled into the slums. Unfortunately the city guard presence there is negligible. Therefore, it will be some time before we are able to root them out. As of this writing we have doubled the wall guards and sealed the gates. Awaiting further orders.

_____

From the Memory Stone of Ambassador Bokene:

The candles are a risk, but they are necessary. The healers cannot work in the dark. They are gentle women, and they move amongst my friends providing a kind word and a soft touch. Our wounds are past tending, none of us shall see the sun rise. Thanks to my training I can block out most of the pain, but I know my wounds are mortal. It is only a matter of time.

I marvel at the clarity of vision that the certainty of imminent death brings a man. Though I have attended the ceremonies my whole life I never stopped to marvel at how beautiful the Temples are. Even in the slums of Kanesh this Temple of Sep stands as a work of art. The priest is a man who calls himself Brother Elgin. At great personal risk he administers to my fallen comrades. I fear that his efforts are in vain, just as I fear for the retribution that awaits him after our passing.

I thought that we came prepared for Hira’s treachery, but we were mistaken. None of us knew the depths to which he would sink to accomplish his goals. To attack a diplomatic envoy under a banner of truce is artless, and without honor. May the unknown gods of war look upon this act with revulsion, and may Hira’s eventual passing be made agonizing and slow because of it.

My death poem is complete. My only regret is that I will pass out of this life without holding Laira and Belakani to me once more. What anguish will they face at news of my passing? What terrors will they meet on the path to come? Hira is many things, but he is no fool. As long as my wife and daughter yet live there will be opposition to his crown. I fear that in following the call of duty I have condemned more than just myself. Papa please, watch over them.

“My dearest Laira, I am so sorry. I wish that we might speak together of this, but destiny has taken a hand. Upon my passing this memory stone will be brought to you by a priest of Sep named Brother Elgin. Though our acquaintance was brief I feel that he is a good man, one worthy of trust. You must take Belakani to the Hall; only amongst the Ansei will she be safe. I have loved the promise of you since before we met. In our life together I found that promise fulfilled, and surpassed. I must lean upon you now; your strength must preserve our line. I know that it is not a duty that you want, but I also know that it is a duty to which you are equal. I love . . .”

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From the Personal Correspondence of Emperor Hira: Dispatch to Doniel, Captain of the Kanesh City Guard:

19/5/20th Rat, 2408

Fire the slums.

-Hira

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From the Kanesh Observer; 19/5/20th Rat, 2408

Assassination Attempt Thwarted

Citizens of Kanesh can rest a little easier tonight, secure in the knowledge that our rightful government still stands despite the cowardly efforts of the Noni delegation yesterday.

Sailing into Torn’s Harbor under a flag of truce, the Noni delegation, which featured more than one hundred armed men in their security detail, was escorted peacefully to the Royal palace. Once there, they set upon the palace guard in a stunning attempted coup. Their objective appears to have been to assassinate Baron Hira and the senior officials of the High Council.

Though vastly outnumbered, the palace guard reacted with a professionalism and skill that was more than a match for the craven forces of Noni. Most of the criminals were dealt with during the exchange at the palace, but a large number of them, including the attempted coup’s apparent mastermind, Ambassador Bokene, used foul magic to escape justice and fall back into the lawlessness of the slums.

When contacted for comment, a representative of Baron Hira’s office said:

“This attack goes to underscore the amount of hate and mistrust that still exists in Yokuda despite the best efforts of honorable men like Baron Hira. Even now he cannot bring himself to condemn his friend, Ambassador Bokene. If the Ambassador and his co-conspirators surrender peacefully, I have no doubt that Baron Hira’s justice will be lenient.”

Government officials have sealed the gates to the slums and reinforced the guards manning the gates. Access to that region of the city will be suspended and law-abiding citizens of Kanesh are instructed to avoid the slums during the duration of the crisis.

_____

From Brother Elgin’s Journal:

19/5/20th Rat, 2408 –

The Ambassador passed away last night while I slept. He was the last survivor of the attack. I found him this morning, still clinging to the memory stone upon which he must have continued to issue instructions until the moment of his death. I wish that I could have been there to help ease his passing, but exhaustion issued me fitful rest when I wanted it least. We bound his body and laid it to rest in the undercroft with the others. His memory stone now lies at the bottom of my pack, hidden under my meager belongings.

My faith has been shaken by these events. Truly the gods cannot exist. For if they did, how do they justify remaining idle while men like Baron Hira are ascendant and men like Bokene are laid low? I have been drawn into the sweep of events against my will. Though I am a reluctant player the duty before me lies clear. I must conduct the Ambassador’s memory stone to the Court of Noni.

I hear cheering from beyond the gate to the city. Through the Temple windows I see the long absent city guard once again walking our streets, in numbers that swiftly become too high to count. I suppose that it is only a matter of time before they wish to search the Temple. I must make ready to greet them.

I do not know why, in the brilliant light of day, they would all be bearing torches.

_____

From the Memory Stone of Lionel Onsi:

“I heard that a new boy had joined us,” said the voice from behind me, “but I didn’t think he would be quartered with me.”

“Perhaps it was done to teach you some humility, Divad,” said another.

I turned, there were three of them standing in the doorway. Older boys, and rough by the looks of them. The tallest of the group ventured into the room. I flinched.

“You are being punished for something,” said the second boy who had spoken. He was short, buck-toothed, and thick around the face and middle. “See the way he cowers in our presence. He’s slum-trash for sure.”

The tall boy reached my side. He had the bearing of one who did what he wanted and got what he desired. He did a turn around me and appraised me as if I were a goat in the undercroft.

The third boy stood next to the fat one in the doorway. He was smaller than the other two and wiry. His head was shaped like an up-turned spade and topped with an explosion of black wool-like hair that seemed far too heavy for his thin body to bear. He spoke for the first time, in a voice that carried traces of a lisp. “I wouldn’t want to share quarters with slum-trash. What if he has fleas, or worse?”

The tall boy stood behind me. He looked down his nose at me before he spoke. “Do you have fleas, new boy?”

I wanted to escape, but I knew that I could not pass the two in the doorway. The tall boy stood between me and the only window in the room. Given the small mountain of steps that I had been forced to climb to reach this floor, getting to the window would not have helped me. In fact, if it was their intention to throw me from the tower I would be doing half their work for them. I made a decision right then and there not to be so accommodating.

The tall boy was still looking at me, but his eyes held an expression of teasing, not taunting. Also there was something about the way that he looked at me that I found strangely familiar.

“Don’t you speak, new boy?” he asked.

“Only when there is something worth responding to,” I said.

“Ho! He’s got a mouth on him,” said the fat boy.

“Yes he does,” said the tall boy. His eyes were lit with amusement. “You do realize that there are three of us to one of you, don’t you?”

I looked at the fat boy in the doorway. “You mean four of you.”

The tall boy laughed, “You’ll do. I’m Divad.” He pointed at the fat boy. “That’s Waymon, the other one is Faris. Do you have a name?”

“Lionel,” I said.

“Where are you from, Lionel?”

“The slums,” I looked over at Faris and winked, “but my fleas weren’t allowed to follow me through the gate.”

They all laughed at that remark. Faris and Waymon entered the room.

“Not to worry, Lionel,” said Faris, “if you get homesick your window looks out to the . . .”

He stood transfixed, his eyes bulging from his head as his gaze was drawn to something beyond the window behind me. The others followed his gaze and fell silent. I turned, beyond the window the morning sun had been covered in a blanket of gray smoke that rose from several fires that bloodied the horizon and consumed the familiar squat dwellings of home. In the center of the inferno I saw the spire of the Temple of Sep collapse upon itself.

“Unknown gods, Lionel,” said Faris, “I hope you were an orphan.”

“Well,” said Waymon, “he is one now.”

Divad reached over and cuffed Waymon on the back of the head.