The History of the World (Part 2)

In the previous post, I covered much focusing upon the history of the kingdom of Evandar and immediate environs. East of Evandar lies the kingdom of Ranyth, whose fate is closely entwined with Evandar's. The elves of Evandar passed through Ranyth to the mountains that stand north of this kingdom and the grassland of the Plains of Llyrian. Evandar is a place of pluralities. Ranyth, however, is more a place of less robust diversity. This is partly due to the fact that unlike Evandar, Ranyth has been a single kingdom for a substantial period of time. It is also due to the fact that the people of Ranyth tend towards somewhat xenophobic attitudes.

The hostility of Ranyth towards outsiders arose due to the waves of assault that it had endured over the ages. During the era before the Great War, Ranyth was caught up in wars with the kingdoms to the south. The Cyrenaican Empire sought to unify the lands around the Sea of Dreams. Their successes against their neighbors on the southern shores of the Sea of Dreams made them bold. Thus the Empire set its forces in motion against Ranyth and its satellite holdings along the eastern shores of the Sea of Dreams. Ranyth was embroiled in this conflict when the Great War broke out.

The Cyrenaican Empire took hold of the satellite lands of Norcium and Muretania as Ranyth was struggling with the deamonic incursions. These incursions drove the kingdom of Ranyth out of their place along the Sea of Dreams except for a few ports nestled in the end of the mountain range known as the Dragon's Teeth. The size of Ranyth was reduced by approximately half when the Great War was done and the Cyrenaican Empire deemed the mountainous boundaries to the south of Ranyth too great of a problem to continue their campaign of unification. The Empire also found itself unable to continue its aggressive expansion campaigns due to uprisings in Epirus, a region that was under great stress due to the deamonic forces and their allies on their eastern front and due to the way the Empire focused a significant amount of recruitment for their armies from this zone.

Following the Cyrenacian Empire's pressures on Ranyth's south-eastern neighbor, Bythynia, the people known as the Kordid/Cordid/The Riders, were driven into diaspora. These tribes moved into the grasslands Elspar, which has been known for seven generations as the Plains of Llyrian and considered cursed. The peoples native to Elspar put pressure on the Kordid and scattered the tribes after many conflicts. The Kordid were then driven into Ranyth. There was a period of conflict through northern Ranyth during the westward migration of the Kordid. They were driven farther north in some cases. In other cases, uneasy peace was made between the tribes and the people of Ranyth. And there were many tribes driven east back into the Plains of Llyrian.

The Doom of Minghaa

The plains men of the west came to Minghaa's yurt in search of trade and marriage. Minghaa the Generous received them well. He poured them strong wine and gave them the best of the feast. When the men of the west with their yellow haired leader told the Son of Heaven that he sought a bride for his sons, the Magnanimous One smiled. The fame of the bold warriors of the west was well known.

Minghaa the Mighty brought forward his daughters. The sullen sons paid them little eye but for the youngest. Taba, the fairest of the flowers of Nayany and Minghaa took one in hand. As she told the Son of Heaven of her desire to take him in her arms, the spurned one stood and struck a hard blow. He spread apart Taba's white throat with his demon blade even as he struck down his brother. Minghaa called down Heaven's Fury upon the men of the west.

His brother Menai leaped forward with his klah in hand. The moon blade sang and the demon blade shattered. The yellow haired man of the west fled with a cry of terror as Menai called together the war party. A thousand men gathered. A thousand men rode, calling to the Sky Father and Mother to let their klahs be sharp and their shija fly true.

Sky Father looked down upon them with his stern face. The grass sea parted before them, leading onward to where the yellow haired villain passed. The Sky Mother watched over them in the night, her maidens weaving the fall of the men of the west in the stars. Menai took counsel with the sorcerer Denua when they reached the silver thread.

For three days, they remained at the glimmering way. Battle songs they sung. Denua lead them the loudest as Menai sharpened his klah and drank his wine. The third night, the Sky Mother and her maidens hid their faces in the veils of cloud. Denua read the signs of the fire and pronounced to Menai that it was time. Denua warned the brother of the Son of Heaven not to step into the kybashi, for the Sky Mother's hiding of her face warned of evil things.

Menai, drunk upon the wines he had brought with him laughed. He declared that he would burn the kybashi of the men of the west. Denua said nothing, going to strike the battle drum and sing the battle songs until the rise of the Sky Father.

The silver track turned red as blood. Denua warned Menai not to go into the kybashi but Menai only repeated that he would burn them. Denua beat the drum and screamed to the Sky Father. The war party crossed the waters and came to the kybashi. The yellow haired villain stood with five half grown boys. Menai struck him a hard blow with his klah. The yellow haired man fell to the ground and was crushed beneath the hooves of Menai's mount.

He passed into the kybashi and found many were dead. Those who lived were taken as slaves. Menai lit the kybashi a fire and brought his prisoners across the water. Denua met him at his yurt. Denua had not seen the battle but knew upon seeing Menai's prisoners that he had gone within the kybashi of the men of the west. Denua insisted that Menai kill all he had taken but Menai did not listen.

The war party returned to the Son of Heaven. As they traveled back, the slaves proved too weak for service and fell. Old horses gave way to age and Denua lead the songs of parting. A stone kybashi was raised where the horse of Menai fell. There, the spirits of the herd remain. A day later, they arrived at the Son of Heaven's encampment. The horses were sent to the kybashi and the war party went to their women.

Denua was heard to speak late in the night to the Sky Mother. He wept like a woman and struck the earth with his fists. At sunrise, the far sighted Denua, uncle of the Son of Heaven was found laying within ashes and groaning. The Son of Heaven and Menai consulted and tried to guess what the Sky Mother wanted of Denua and why she struck him down.

The Son of Heaven built a pyre and brought out his finest horse. He opened its throat and placed it upon the blaze. Smoke rose high and the Sky Father veiled his face with clouds. The tears of the Sky Mother and the maidens fell for nine days. As the Sky Mother and the maidens wept, Denua moved to join the ancestors. Many others did as well. Menai lay in the Son of Heaven's yurt with the shuddering judgment of the Sky Mother upon him.

The Son of Heaven and Nayany begged the ancestors to aid them. They burned fragrant grasses, poured wine, and fasted. The ancestors took Menai in their arms and the Son of Heaven sacrificed his second best horse to give Menai a proper beast for him to ride the plains. Nayany soon became ill as did the Son of Heaven.

Three days, they shuddered and wasted. The Son of Heaven screamed for the Sky Father and Mother to forgive him. His cries were so loud that they were heard in every part of the encampment. Nayany died with a sigh. The Son of Heaven soon went to her side with the ancestors. As the maidens grew to womanhood, the people of the Sky Father and Mother failed.

Some fled to the east and found the clans of others to take them in. It is from them that we learned of their story. Before they fled, they built a stone kybashi about the encampment. At the fixed stone of sunrise, the skulls of the horses were set to watch. At the fixed stone of sunset, the klahs were stood across the entrance. Thus were the dead guarded by their own arms.

~*~*~*~*~

Klah ~ sword

Kybashi ~ enclosure

Shija ~ arrow (plural: singular is shiji)

The Plains of Llyrian (Pt. 4)

Away at the hall of Llyrian's home, Unnr moved amidst her husband's people, deeply troubled. An illness had swept over them. Great men were brought low. The aged and young were cut down as grass before the scythe. Some had begun to recover, but it was only few of that proud number. So it happened that Llyrian crossed the great river of Amyas at the ford of Janwynne. As Llyrian crossed the bawn, no challenge was cried out. No persons came out to meet the lone rider and demand their name or purpose.

Amazed by this, Llyrian passed on to find the stench of dead flesh heavy in the air as he drew closer to his home. A great pit had been dug between the eastern edge of the spear-wall and the western edge of the fading field of grain that stood along the edge of the river. In that pit was thrown the bodies of the dead, man and beast alike.

Llyrian passed beyond the spear-wall and was met by a young boy. Dressed in ill fitting clothes and dirty, the orphan struck terror into Llyrian's heart. The golden haired wolf of Sigurt dismounted and went into his hall. There he found Unnr at desperate work to soothe the evils of the plague that had come upon them. Weakened men and women shuddered with the grips of fever as others lay groaning. 

Llyrian walked amongst them, staring with horror as he remembered the night his sons were born. He looked at his wife and fell to his knees. He bowed his great head and struck his hands three times against the hard earth, weeping for his folly. Unnr looked past her husband for her sons. She saw no sign of them and looked to her husband, troubled by his demeanor.

“We are undone,” Llyrian groaned, “Ah, forgive me, we are undone.” Unnr gasped as she realized that the curse had come to pass. She looked about the hall and found her mind filled with visions of destruction. With a cry, Unnr fell to the ground dead with grief and horror. Llyrian screamed aloud, gathering the clay cold corpse of his beloved wife to him. Thus it was that Llyrian returned to his hall on the eve of the storm of the Howling Horde.

Night came and with it came the out riders of the Horse Lords. Llyrian moved among his people, desperate for any who had might to take arms. Across the river, the Horse Lords lifted up the standard of war and set to a great noise. All of Janwynne echoed with the din. Slowly, the night crept by. In the dark, away at the marsh to the south, one who had been angered by such cacophony many a year before smiled in the dark, for she knew her revenge was taking shape.

Dawn came. It found Llyrian and five brave souls standing at the gate of the shield wall. The Horse Lords crossed the ford and laughed at the defenders. When noon had come, Janwynne was burning as the Horse Lords turned to ride back to their people. So it happened that the Horse Lords brought death as the spoils of war, but that is a tale for another time. 

The Plains of Llyrian (Part 3)

Unnr's sons grew in the proper course of time. Agni the Black and Barnadr the Fair shared everything. Where Agni was quiet like his mother, Barnadr was bombastic like his father. Both were skilled in the arts of war and peace. Agni could coax music from any instrument given to him as Barnadr could carve elaborate items of great beauty from even the slenderest twig. They were often found together, Agni with his favorite harp and Barnadr at his carving.

Women found great favor with the sons of Llyrian but neither of them sought a bride. Unnr soon grew troubled by this. She turned to her bold husband and besought him to take them upon a trading journey. It was her great hope that each handsome young man would find some willing bride to beget heirs to his good name. So it happened that in the fifteenth summer of their lives, Agni the Black and Barnadr the Fair went with their father into the far eastern edge of the world.

There among the Horse Lords, the joy of Unnr were received as kings. Llyrian and his sons spent a month and a day among the Horse Lords. While many a willing maiden came forward, neither of Llyrian's twins chose a bride. The greatest of the Horse Lords was a man known for his ferocity and largess. He thought that Llyrian's sons would make him a fine son of his own, for the bonds of matrimony were also the bonds of kinship.

He brought forward his three daughters. The eldest daughter was as fair as the sun. Agni and Barandr greeted her courteously but returned to their idle pleasures. The middle daughter was as lovely as the rich fields of harvest. Again, the sons of Llyrian greeted the Horse Lord's daughter fairly but returned to their own pursuits.

The youngest of the daughters came forward veiled and demure. She spoke with a voice that was as the songs of all the birds. Agni, elder of the pair, knelt at her feet and offered her his song as homage. The maiden reached out her white hand, so pure and soft, and Barandr clasped it in both of his. He pledged to give to the maiden all the treasures of the earth if she would but be his. The maid looked between the pair and said to Barandr, "What use have I for treasures? My father gives me all."

Agni played upon his harp a sweet tune. This made the maiden smile even as Barandr offered her jewels carved as the flowers of the field. Agni sang an ancient love song, older then the Kordid or the Horse Lords. The maiden sat at his side, enraptured. As Barandr offered her his own golden horn, the maid paid him no mind. Barandr turned aside, his heart breaking for want of the youngest daughter of the Horse Lord.

As she turned to her father, Barandr looked to his brother. The maid spoke sweetly of the rapture of love and her wish to be wed to Agni. Barandr's heart turned black with jealousy. He struck Agni a mighty blow, pouring his heart's blood upon the hearth. He turned his rage upon the youngest daughter of the Horse Lord, striking her as well. The lily maid fell to the floor, cold as the stone that received her.

The Horse Lord gave a great cry of wrath. Llyrian fled in terror as Barandr fell to a thousand swords. As the Howling Horde followed upon Llyrian's heels, great evil swept through the Kordid.

The Plains of Llyrian (Part 2)

Thrice she knocked on the door. Thrice, none came to answer it. The fourth time, she struck the door into the hall of Llyrian with her black bog wood stave. A great noise akin to the shattering of a tree when struck by lightning came from it and the doors opened of their own power. Silence descended among the Kordid and they made ready to defend their handsome King from this unknown threat.

Outside in the storm, a coal black horse screamed. When dawn came, no sign of the horse's presence would be found though signs of struggle would be apparent and the other noble beasts would shy away from that place in the pen. Thus, the one known as the haruspex of the Kordid's grief entered. As she looked over the armed warriors and their shield-maidens, a great many of them avoided a direct gaze in her eyes.

"Who disturbs my rest this night" she demanded, "With shrill horn, restless drum, and shrieking whistle? By whose order did the quiet of my rest be broken, unable to be soothed even by the storm's lullaby?" Eyes the color of gory icicles looked over the assembled from within that pale, seemingly bloodless face. At the high seat at the head of the groaning board, Llyrian stood. Some say that the mad god Kaileth whispered to him great glory stood in challenging this diminutive woman of strange power. Others say that the evil of Morgoth invaded his mind for a time and made him break the customs of hospitality and summer peace. Still others suggest that Llyrian was far too deep into his cups to speak sensibly by the late hour.

What ever the reason, Llyrian looked at the dark haired woman dressed in winter's clothes during the summer's heat and laughed. At his laughter, she frowned and the Kordid looked to him in askance. "Girl-child of the black marsh, your mother beckons you home. The hour is late and you trouble the men with your foolishness," he said with a hearty laugh. The harbringer of sorrow raised her head slightly, scenting the air for a moment as her expression turned grave.

"Two pups whelped by the alpha bitch lay nearby," she says, looking back to Llyrian, "and the mate antagonizes the great cat as the alpha bitch lay weak in childbed. Be wise, Wolf of Sigurt, recant your prideful words. Let silence descend here." At her statement, Llyrian's people drew back uneasy. Llyrian turned and bellowed for his hunting horn. A wary thane brought it to him as the fey woman watched with gimlet eyes.

"Your words are nothing but empty noise on the wind, spoiled daughter of the storm," Llyrian replied, "here is my answer." He took his gold banded horn and put it to his lips. He blew a loud and lusty blast that rang in the hall. A sound that awakened his newborn sons and set them to mewling as their mother drew them to her breast to comfort them. The small woman took her stave and struck it on the floor. Again, a great echoing crash sounded. Those closest to her covered their ears and fell to the floor dumbstruck.

"When the elder's star rises higher then the younger's," she intoned, "all of the Kordid will lay abed in weakness as the alpha bitch does now. Your boldest men will have no rest for the shrill scream of pipes and whistles. None will stand to oppose the storm that comes and all that will be left of you shall be your name." Silence trailed in her wake as the Kordid watched the strange one leave their presence.

"Words of an angry child timed to the storm," Llyrian cried as the doors were shuttered against the rising fury of the storm, "Drink. Eat. Let her sulk out in the night's cold." As the people of the plains returned to their celebration, some watched the night uneasily.

The Plains of Llyrian (Part 1)

The Plains of Llyrian sit betwixt the eastern most ridge of the Dragon's Spine and the south-western end of the Dragon's Teeth. Now a barren place, it has been named as cursed for the past seven generations. Once, it had been verdant and lush grasslands. That was long before it was named for the ill fated sons of Llyrian.

I suppose the place to begin this story is at the beginning. Long ago, when they were known not as the Plains of Llyrian but as the High Reaches or the Marches of Elspar and Corinth, the plains were a windswept grassland. There, lived a proud people of heroic stature. Masters of the horse and fearsome warriors, these people were known as the Kordid.

In the language of the men of Elspar, Kordid means simply 'Riders'. The Kordid were frequently a people of commerce. When the seasons turned harsh, those who hadn't trade agreements with the Kordid found themselves the object of raiding parties. Bands of the Kordid would offer their services as mercenaries, frequently battling others of their people during the bitter winters.

Among the Kordid was a line of impressive warriors. These warriors and their kin rose to power within their people. Ambition was in their blood, as was fire. This was wedded to cunning intelligence to produce the flower of that lineage, Llyrian of the Golden Hair.

Llyrian was different from several of his kinsmen. For he was an excellent strategist and gained a reputation for brining home more warriors alive then others had. So it happened that Llyrian came to be a King among his people. It was shortly after this that trouble came among the Kordid that not even his strong hand could turn away.

One night, Llyrian's hall rang with the sound of celebration deep into the night. Llyrian's wife, Unnr, had borne him twin sons. This was the cause of great joy for Queen and both Princes were hale. It was also taken as a sign that the Gods smiled on Llyrian. Thus, mead flowed freely and the Prince of Shield-Breakers called for song far later then usual that Summer's night.

Their revelry, however, angered one who lived in the near by marsh. To this day, it is not known if it were a Deamon Princess or a powerful, ill spirited enchantress who came to his door. Hooded and dressed in a cat skin robe of white, she walked in to the hall from a storm that seemed to bear the wrath of Gods within it.

*Edited for spelling and grammar.