Part Two: The Creation

"Come," the centaur continued. "We have much to discuss." He led them further into the barn. Though it was the dead of night, and the stables had no torches or candles, a faint white light came down from above.

Looking up, the brothers saw thousands of small white spheres, hovering an inch from the ceiling, illuminating the room. There were a few larger ones that grew red and blue, but for the most part it was an unbroken scattering of white.

As Ignotus looked, he could almost see them shift into images. There was an archer, and a dog, and even a great centaur. The way the light danced, it reminded him of the way silver strands of memory gave way to sounds and images. It was truly beautiful.

"What is this? Elf magic?" Antioch asked.

"Certainly not," Ignotus responded softly. "They could never create anything so harmless."

"Ah," sighed Glaucon, "there you are certainly wrong. They may not have blades or spikes, but within these heavenly spheres is truth. And therein lies the surest danger."

"But not for us, I should think," replied Ignotus.

"No, not for us, not today." Glaucon moved forward, and into the center of the large room. Centaurs surrounded him from all sides, all gazing up at the light, all in pure rapture. "Today the truth is our ally."

"But what are they?" Cadmus demanded.

"They are stars."

"What's that, then?" Antioch prodded.

"They were a gift to the centaurs, from the very creation of time. Hung in the heavens, for us to gaze upon. The elves feared their power, and stole them away. They used their magic to lock them in that," and Glaucon pointed to a mass of twisted silver, clearly bent and broken by the feet of trampling centaurs. "Four nights ago, I heard them calling to me. Such a sweet sound, light a thousand harps all singing at once.

"So the next night I went out in search of them. I followed the singing, and was drawn to the hall housed between the Houses of Space and Time. I wrapped my hooves in cloth and stole into the building through the House of Time. I was quickly lost, and fled down a flight of stairs. I found myself in front of a locked door, which I could not force. And just next to the door stood a spectacular mirror. I placed myself before it, and it threw images of the stars into my eyes. It showed me the way. It knew my heart, and guided me to my one true desire."

Glaucon took a breath, and shook his head, as if to dispel the residual enchantment of the mirror. "I entered the hall, and the singing grew louder. It rang in my ears, louder than a thousand drums. And as I placed my hands upon their accursedly wrought prison, their song exploded into a climax, and was silenced. So furious was I that I took it with me, and as soon as I took shelter in the stables I cast my hooves upon the metal. My brothers joined in, until finally the stars burst forth. And we gazed.

"We spent all night with our eyes focused upon the stars, and in the morning we grudgingly left to tend the fields. The stars told us of the past, present, and future. They gave us such knowledge. And we knew it was time for us to act.

"So the next night I summoned Garnash here, and told him what the stars had told me, and we dreamt up our conspiracy. But before we could act, we knew that our team was not yet complete. So I sent Garnash out last night, to bring us a human from the House of Memory, and convince that human to come here with two of his colleagues. And now you are here. And we must address the truth."

"What truth?" asked Cadmus.

"The truth about the elves, human," answered Garnash the goblin. "And about magic. And the world, and ourselves. They have been lying to us. And now it is time that the truth be told."

Garnash took a seat, and beckoned the others to do the same. Ignotus followed immediately, crossing his legs and seating himself on top of the hay littering the ground. The other two brothers quickly followed suit. Glaucon refocused his eyes upon the lights, and slowly began to speak.

• • •

"At first there was the earth. Goblins were created to dig beneath it, and gems and metals were buried within, for the goblins to unveil. Next was the sky, and the centaurs were made to gaze upon it. Stars and planets were hung upon it, as divine messengers unto this world. And last the land was created, and all that lived upon it. Elves were made, gentle and kind, to tend to the land and its wonders; and humans were created, hungry and inventive, to bridge the gap between goblins and centaurs, and turn metal and stone and build it to reach into the heavens.

"Each was created with a unique magical ability. The goblins could weave their magic into metal and gems, creating the finest jewels and weapons upon the Earth. The centaurs could read the stars, watch as time unravels in their constellations. Humans were given magic to match their mission; with their abilities they could build, destroy, create, and obliterate. The only constraints on their power were their confidence and their imagination. The elves had similarly broad powers, but with greater constraints. They're power was crafted to care, and protect. Their power consisted of a tremendous capacity for love.

"The first three species reveled in their magic, and took great pride and pleasure in the purposes that creation had crafted them for. But the elves grew discontent. Their magical gift became more a curse. Their love and care for the world was unappreciated, and unrequited, and eventually it turned on them, into bitterness and spite.

"Angry at their gift, they removed it from their bodies. They ripped love straight from their hearts, and locked it away, deep under ground, where it could never be accessed again. And then, cold and twisted, they set their minds to work.

"First they took the humans. They robbed them of their magic wands, and brought them to a deep dungeon, miles beneath the earth. At the center lay an amphitheater, carved of stone. The elves restrained the humans, and cast a wicked enchantment over them. The curse removed their magic, robbing them of their birthright. First the elves tried to take it for themselves, but it could not be done. The magic remained locked within the humans, flowing through their veins, just beyond reach. There will always be a certain magic about blood; it is blood that sustains life, and as long as blood persists, so will life, in one form or another.

"The elves knew that the magic was bound in with human blood, and so, that night, had a slaughter. Thousands of humans were butchered within the amphitheater that night, and the elves bathed in their blood. With a dark incantation, the magic was released, and the elves absorbed human magic into their own bodies. Dripping with stolen life, they rose from their pool and changed. The previously diminutive creatures became tall and proud, and faces made to be kind became harsh and arrogant. This marked the first conquest of the elves.

"The rest of the humans were enslaved, some to work, and the rest to die another day. The magic that the elves now possessed was not their own, nor were their bodies, and they would need to bathe in blood again to maintain their victory. And so the humans were encouraged to breed and grow, so again and again their blood may be spilled.

"The elves used human magic first to build the House of Memory. There they built their pensieves and took magical secrets from the humans as well, and made them forget that they had ever been free.

"It was not long before they came after the goblins. Goblin magic was not so easy to steal or suppress, but they too were robbed of their secrets in the House of Memory. They were then forced to build weapons, and the elves adapted goblin spells to imbue the blades with magic. Just as with humans, a goblin's magic is woven in with its blood, and so the elves would cool heated metal with blood spilled fresh from a goblin's heart.

"Centaur magic was impossible for them to steal or adapt. They would never be able to see into the stars and read time as we can. But with human and goblin magic, and evil craft of their own design, they built the Dark House, the House of Death. It was in the amphitheater below that they first butchered humans, and it is there that they do it still. In the center they built a dais, and an archway draped by a veil. Behind that veil occupies another world, inhabited by the dead. From that arch they pull things and bend them to their will. They corrupt the afterlife and use it to create abominations. Behind the veil, they created dark specters, creatures that turn the world black and suck warmth and joy from living hearts. These creatures flocked out of the House and took to the skies, and with their clammy, scabbed hands they ripped the stars from the heavens, and brought them to the elves, who locked them in a case of goblin-wrought silver. And so too were the centaurs enslaved, and robbed of the gifts given to them by creation. And all three have remained enslaved ever since."

• • •

"But what are you aiming to say?" Antioch demanded. "Humans have no magic, and neither do centaurs! And the elves have always been our rulers!"

"Have you no ears?" demanded Garnash. Turning to Cadmus, he said, "I wanted you to bring intelligent humans. We have no use for imbeciles."

Antioch sprang at the four-foot goblin, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck with one muscled arm and pinning him to the wall. "I am not a man that takes insults lightly, hook-nose."

"As you can see, he is the contentious brother. Always good for a brawl," Cadmus replied, "so I would recommend you select your words with a trifle more care."

"Regardless, release the goblin," ordered Glaucon. "Don't you see? The elves have lied. They have ascended their thrones through bloodshed and deception. They have robbed us of what is ours. But the stars have been released. We are ignorant no longer. It is time for justice."

Glaucon cast a significant glance at Garnash, who rubbed his throat and started to speak. "The centaurs are quite adept at reading the stars, but anything a bit closer seems to be far beneath their attention. Fortunately the goblins were close at hand.

"The centaur speaks of a stolen secrets, locked away by the elves. This is the key. They have hidden all of the secrets in the House of Memory, where the three of you conveniently serve. You are all lettered?"

Cadmus nodded. As scribes, they were the only slaves who could read. Of all goblins, centaurs, and men, only the humans of the House of Memory were allowed to learn their letters. "Good," continued the goblin. "Then it is time for you to play your part. You must find the goblin metal working scrolls, and––"

"We don't have access to those," Cadmus interjected. "The ancient scrolls aren't allowed near slave hands."

"But the metal scrolls must routinely be moved to the House of Metal Works. They will be carted over in the morning, tomorrow. Once they are stolen, you must make haste away from the city. When we goblins reclaim our command over metals, we may begin our assault on this accursed elvish reign."

"Are you suggesting that we try to steal from the elves?" Cadmus furrowed his brow, and peered keenly at the goblin. "And not only steal from them, but steal one of their most treasured relics? Our lives will be forfeit. What do you intend to sacrifice?"

"Patience, human, or a swear my metal will taste your blood." Garnash drew a short dagger, bearing the elegant craftsmanship of goblin hands. "The humans will find themselves generously rewarded. You will have a place in the new world order, alongside the rest of us."

"The humans will face rewards greater than imaginable," Glaucon announced, gazing at the stars yet again. "They will win command over magic, long lost and newly found."

"Well what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means what he said, dear Antioch," Ignotus sighed, "and nothing more." Ignotus seemed just as absent as the centaur at the moment, gazing off into the distance, watching events unfold in a distant world. "It would be reckless to conspire in this plot," Ignotus said at some length. "But no more reckless than remaining inactive. If what they say about the elves is true, then human lives have been at risk for some time." He glanced at Glaucon. "I don't sense any dishonesty. And the elves have proved themselves much too capable of massacre."

And the doubts that Cadmus and Antioch were voicing were suddenly assuaged. They knew what Ignotus was referring to. From a very young age, the three brothers had no one else. From a much too young age, they were all alone.

The moment broke, and Cadmus started pacing with a wicked grin on his face. "Alright then, Goblin. You can count us in. It his humans who are risking their lives in this operation. As such, we humans will be taking charge. We will need to be armed, and we will need to be aided in our escape. This is what we must do."

• • •

Early that morning, before the sun crept above the horizon, Cadmus snuck into the slave barracks. His brothers were still with the goblins and centaurs. They were preparing for the day ahead. Cadmus should have been with them, but he had one last thing to accomplish before he could depart.

He made his way through the halls, his footfalls whispering into the darkness. Finally, he passed through a doorway and into the right bedroom. "Agatha?" He whispered with gentleness that most would assume to be beyond him. He moved closer and touched her shoulder. "Agatha?"

"Cadmus?" She replied, blinking herself awake. "Why are you––"

"I'm leaving in the morning, Agatha," breathed Cadmus. "Events are brewing, and I must be a part of them. It is too dangerous to bring you with me, however much I might want to."

"Cadmus, I don't understand––"

"We mean to overthrow the elves," he said, so quiet that his words hardly disturbed the air. "I will have fled–––I will be in hiding. But I will come back for you, to visit you." It was too dark to see her, but he could feel her presence before him. "And when the elves have fallen, I–––I would take your hand, Agatha. When the war is over, will you be my wife?"

"I don't understand, please, tell me, what war?"

"I can't explain it now, Agatha. Answer my question: will you marry me?"

Agatha sat up, confused and scared, and placed her hand over Cadmus's. "I will."

Cadmus took in a sharp breath and briefly held Agatha in his arms, and then moved to the door. "I will visit you soon. It will have to be in the night; from herein out I am an exile. But I will come for you." And he departed.

• • •

"Do you have them?"

Ignotus and Cadmus skulked around the back of the House of Memory, so early the sun had only begun to peek into the sky. Antioch approached, bearing three packs of graduated size.

"What do you think?" snapped Cadmus. He and Ignotus were burdened with armfuls of scrolls–––whatever they could make off with. The goblins had only tasked them to seize the metal scrolls, but those were relatively few; there were only three, and even the largest was small enough for Ignotus to carry without strain. The secrets stolen from the goblins were minimal–––just enough to nullify their threat to the elvish regime. But there were shelves filled with human spells, curses and charms and potions. Each roll of parchment contained a lost treasure. So Cadmus and Ignotus had snuck into the Hall of Memory and made away with a total of forty-nine magic scrolls.

"No need to be testy," Antioch replied as he swung the two smaller packs off of his shoulder and dropped them at his brothers' feet. "The goblins have packed us basic provisions, as well as a sample of their craft." He opened his pack and drew from it a mighty axe, with a double-breasted blade broader than his shoulders, and a thick oak shaft that stood as tall as he did. Considering Antioch's size, it was a terrific weapon. "They armed you as well."

Cadmus stared down at his pack. It seemed to have a basic wooden frame and blue canvas surrounding. Truly, it looked like nothing more than a little blue box. But upon opening it and gazing inside, he said in wonderment, "It's… bigger on the inside."

"The goblins must have stolen it," Ignotus remarked. "The elves have enchanted them."

"Never mind that, draw your swords!" Antioch urged.

Cadmus and Ignotus obliged, pulling scabbards from their packs. Cadmus drew a long, sturdy saber, and Ignotus a thin and quick cutlass. "Not much compared to what the elves will be sporting," Cadmus pointed out. "They bear no enchantments."

"Yet they still bear an edge," Ignotus reminded him, "and elves will bleed just as freely as any human, goblin, or centaur." He looked at the orange line lighting the middle-distance. "It's time to move into our positions, I should think."

"Yes," agreed Cadmus, and the three of them started stowing the stolen scrolls in their packs. Once every roll of parchment was safely packed, they took position in the courtyard.

The three brothers spread out and waited. Soon, the doors to the Hall of Memory creaked open and five elves crept out, drawing a horse and cart alongside. It was still an hour at least before the rest of the city would wake; right then, the entire area was deserted.

The cart moved along, coming closer every moment to where the ambush was stationed. Just as the elves reached the center of the courtyard, standing alongside the dining pavilion, Antioch leapt out of the shadows. He drew his massive axe, and with a powerful blow he broke the cart's axel in two.

The elves reeled in shock, and drew their wands. Antioch quickly smote the first in the chest, but could not hope to be fast enough to fend off all at once. But Cadmus and Ignotus rose from the shadows as well. Brandishing his cutlass, Cadmus sliced the second elf through the chest, and moved to cover Antioch's back. Ignotus started flicking his blade, bringing the tip whizzing in front of the elves' menacing faces. His sword made contact with two wands, slicing them in half.

Antioch killed the one whose wand was still intact, bringing his axe down at the cleft between the elf's shoulder and neck. He then brandished the blunt end of his axe's pole, and knocked the remaining elves out cold.

The sun had finally risen, just in time to cast shimmers in the blood as it flowed over the tiled stone floors. "We have spilled their blood," observed Ignotus.

"It was only fair, little brother," Antioch replied. "They spilled ours first."

Ignotus was still remarking at what they had done, but it took Antioch only moments to absorb the significance of the act. He rushed forward and unloaded the cart. It contained three chests, each of which he promptly broke open. From the shredded wood he pulled the three scrolls of metalworking. He tossed one each to his brothers. They turned to go, but he leaned over the unconscious elves.

"What are you doing?" Cadmus hissed as Antioch tore the tattered shirt of one of the dead elves into ribbons.

"Making rope," he replied. Using the torn cloth, Antioch bound the hands and feet of the elves he had knocked out cold.

"You don't mean to take them with us?" Ignotus objected.

"Why not? They're slender, I can carry them." Antioch slung the two bodies over his shoulder. "They'll be useful as hostages."

Ignotus tried to object, but Cadmus shot him down, having seen the advantages. "But we must move now, or we will be the hostages."

They took off at an easy run, they day still too young for them to worry just yet. They had agreed to meet the centaurs just clear of the heart of The City, where they would ride to safety.

A scream rang out from the distance, and suddenly they were sprinting. They could see the centaurs now, and were being lifted up and onto their backs. And the centaurs galloped, leaving the city far behind.