Those Who Came Before
Prologue
On one side of the gate stood a field of trees and flowers, carefully tended by subtle magic from the gardeners and the people. A large, paved way, free of any crack or overgrowth lanced in the midst of the powerful scene of beauty, receding into the background, where dwellings and the top ends of twisted - yet oh so beautiful - towers doggedly broke the treeline. All around that place, a feeling of eternal peace and calm filled the air and sank into the ground, bringing in a sense of quietness and contentment which almost seemed to chant its glory.
On the other side of the gate stood trees, and some flowers, but there was no ordered feel to them. Strong maples, proud pines and sturdy oaks stood in their multitudes, in the utter disarray in which nature had left them, surrounded by shrubs and the inevitable wildflowers and wild mushrooms. A damp air was wafting through, carrying no sense of peace but rather a restlessness, a feeling that peace could never be achieved, that the people living there would never truly wish for it. There was no glory here, only a waiting for ever-changing tidings.
On one side of the portal was Mipross, home of the elves, where Loerik Gabriev had lived the eighteen years of his life. On the other was the Empire of Elmekia, a land at war, where his decision had banished him.
If the bitterness of it all hadn't been wringing his heart until he was nearly blind from it, he would have cried incessantly.
People were there with him, on this last day, the day were he would embrace his choice. Precious few - his decision to choose his human blood and become fully human at the time of choice had deprived him of friends he had known since childhood. Elven maidens who had once tittered and winked at him enticingly now turned cold gazes on him, teachers no longer knew him as anything but a stranger, and even...even one of his family, his own brother, had refused to see him go. Only three had come.
His father, Rowdy, was there of course, his blue hair now laced with grey, his small but well-built frame barely coming to his son's abdomen. Another thing to be bitter about. Where all the children in the family had been born small with blond hair, he had become tall, even for most humans, with hair as black as a raven. Only his blue eyes mirrored his parents', although his were wounded and bitter, while theirs were grieving.
His mother was also there, pale, slight and kind Mellyroon, crying her heart out for all of them, her elven features, so pure and beautiful marred by a deep sense of loss and sadness. And toddling next to her, confused and saddened by what she felt, was the youngest of the family, little Varlya. His chest contracted painfully as a lump formed in his throat, and he tried to push it away, but before pride reasserted itself, a sob tore through his athletic frame. It didn't escape his parents' notice.
Rowdy bowed his head for a moment and blinked quickly. "I never imagined...that they...that all of this would happen." That was an understatement, for Rowdy had argued with the elven council against the banishment, but even his status as hero amongst the elves - which was why he had been accepted where no other human had ever been - hadn't been enough to sway the elders. And so the eyes of the father held a sense of defeat, and he didn't quite meet his son's eyes. "I never thought I'd have to see one of my children go this way."
"Banishment!" Mellyroon wept. "What cruelty! How could they make that decision? How could they?!?" Varlya only sniffled in obvious discomfort and befuddlement. Rowdy put a comforting arm around his love's shoulders, but he seemed to be sayinmg the same thing.
"The Elders' decision is final, mother." Loerik stated softly. Surprisingly he did not sound angry, or bitter. He sounded casual. Those feelings were for his own heart only. "I can only obey them now."
Mellyroon shook herself from her husband's grasp, and looked up at her son in something which almost seemed anger. "I won't stand for that! I...I won't! You'll have your place, with your family!"
"We'll do all we can, son." Rowdy added in determination.
Loerik felt his chest tighten again, but kept a tight rein on them. "Father, mother, please. Its too late..."
"We'll see about that, boy! You just wait and see." he sighed "Besides, its where you belong."
"My place belongs with the humans now, not the elves!" the tall young man bellowed, is anger breaking through a moment. Varlya gave a wail, and he immediately felt ashamed of himself. But he didn't apologize, even when Mellyroon started to soothe the little girl. He knew what he said was right. And his father knew it too. "You wouldn't have given me the Sword of Light if you hadn't thought I'd be gone long."
His father flinched, and his gaze inadvertently darted to the large sword secured in a elven-made scabbard. The sword which had been in the Gabriev family since the first of the line had received it and used it to help turn the tide against the mazoku in the War of Resurrection. It was this sword which had enabled Rowdy's own father to save the city of Sairaag from the Great Beast Zannafar. It was this sword which had made his father a hero, and enabled Loerik's very existence.
Rowdy looked at his son with sad blue eyes. "It seemed appropriate. That sword is one of the greatest weapons of war known, it has no place on Mipross. And the blade was always passed from father to the most skilled son, and you, my son, are a magnificent swordsman, one of the very best." his voice quavered. "Ceipheed knows how I'll miss you."
"We all will. Even your brother Tulin will." Mellyroon added, tears once again streaming down her eyes. Loerik stiffened at the name. Not now. Not yet. The wound was too fresh, the rage too great. That would take a long time to heal...if it ever did. His mother's pretty face tightened. "And we won't give up. You'll be with us again, Loerik. We won't stop until that cruel banishment is lifted." she looked at her husband, and he nodded firmly in response.
The young warrior smiled at his parents sadly, hiding the hopelessness he felt. "Well then, until next we meet, then, I'll do my best here."
They embraced, he and his father clasping forearms in a grip which belied the seeming dry tone of the exchange. That and their eyes, of course, which told what a thousand words couldn't. His mother nearly throttled him as she hugged his neck, and she whispered that she loved him, and never to give up, never to give in. He wouldn't. If only for those three, he wouldn't. No matter what the human world had in store for him.
No matter what he had to do.
He crouched at last to the toddling Varlya, fixing his eyes on her tenderly. She was chubby and innocent-looking, her eyes wide and distressed, knowing something was up but not able to truly understand what was going on. He had to force himself not to grimace. Varlya would grow up to understand that her brother rejected the elven way of life, no matter what he knew his parents would try to minimize that fact. He wouldn't be there to take care of, he wouldn't see her play. Not for a long time. Maybe never. Damn the elves! Damn him and damn the whole universe!
He rustled his sister's hair fondly for a moment, then spoke to her gently. "Varlya, I have to be going now. Take good care of mother and father until I come back. If I ever do, he finished bitterly.
Blue eyes blinked "Where are ya going, Lorik?" her tiny voice asked, mispronouncing his name as usual.
"Just on a very big adventure. I'll be back one day, you just wait, okay?" he sincerely hope his smile seemed relaxed. It appeared it was, as she nodded with vigor, and hugged him as if he was only going for a few days. Ignorance could be such a bliss sometimes.
Other words were exchanged, but the meeting had said all that was to be said. After one last hug from his mother and a fond pat on the shoulder from his father, he watched them cross to the portal, which started closing almost immediately. As the magic collapsed, his father strechtched out a hand towards him, and said "You're the Swordsman of Light! Remember that! And remember that whatever happens, we will always love you!" And with that, the portal collapsed, shutting him out of the elven world, possibly forever.
"I'll remember, father." Loerik said softly. "I'll..." he choked, his vision blurring as tears sprang unbidden into his eyes. He didn't fight them, didn't fight the sobs and the despair which was tearing at his soul anew. He was alone. His pride no longer had any say.
And for long moments after, the woods of Elmekia resounded with the wails of a young man who was alone, bereft, and in pain.
* * *
Him? You say he is of importance? He is weak, his will is shattered by the present events! He is nothing!
But he will be. I have foreseen it. Greatness as well as pain await him, sadness and love, death and life. He will be tempered by it. And events will unfold that will help the World of Man remain free.
You speak in riddles, old friend.
Only the truth as it will be. I know what I have glimpsed.
And what are these great things this pitiful child could do?
You shall see. Others will join him. One, in particular, will bear watching.
Whom?
This one, my friend, this one...
* * *
So Oerlus the Silent, saddened by the reckless use of the Black Arts and wary of the expediency of the Shamanistic powers, worked to learn the secrets of Ceipheed and the Golden Dragons. Although it was proven that humankind...that humankind...that humankind possessed some powers of healing, it wasn't until Oerlus met and sealed a pact with Merrizzialis the Dragon Lady, that White Magic as we know...White...White... Magic...as...we... ... ...
"HALLIA."
The sharp words cut through the rapidly dimming mind of Hallia Servales, young Shrine Maiden of the Dragon-God, and had the effect of a full bucket of full water. Although decisively pretty, with a fine, slightly rounded face, a well-developed body that belied her fifteen winters and which wasn't hidden by the priestly robes she wore, her reaction was far less than dignified. She gasped, her large blue eyes widened even more than it should have been human to do, and her dark green hair seemed to stand on air as she looked about at the varying reactions of the other apprentices in her class and blushed bright red.
Mother Lobilia, the priestess who had taught her and the others on magic and the history of magic, pinced her tin lips together and glared, arms crossed, foot slightly tapping. She looked the image of a thunderstorm about to break. Although a powerful priestess and one possessing great wisdom and knowledge, there was one thing the older woman never, ever tolerated: laziness in her classroom.
"Hallia, dear girl," she started with a deceptively mild voice which sent everyone - and the newly awakened Hallia especially - on edge "If you are so wise and intelligent that the learning of the history of White Magic is of no import to you, then, by all means, leave this class and go play with the flowers outside, take a nap, as long as it isn't in MY classroom." the last was said with an ever-rising voice, and the green-haired teenager cringed.
"Forgive me, mistress, it was a mishap. I..."
"A mishap indeed." was the sharp cut in her fumbling apologies "If you need to stay awake, then read us the entire chapter on Oerlus, and make it a lively one!"
The young maiden almost sighed but checked herself quickly : the chapter on Oerlus the Sage was, without a doubt, long and especially dull, but she knew she had no choice but to obey. She was a learner of the way of the church, and Lobilia was one of the mistresses. What she heard was what she had to do, and that was that. 'Besides', she thought glumly, glimpsing the faintly pleased faces of the others in the class 'Anything to keep those jealous wolves at bay.' So she stood up, and, with a clear voice, recited the story of Oerlus and the Creation of White Magic.
She didn't stumble once, her voice never cracked, and to the disgust of other classmates, her being seemed to be as calm as a gentle sea breeze. She didn't feel that way one bit, yet it allowed Mistress Lobilia's stern features to soften somewhat, and the nod she offered her at the end of the recitation, although sharp, was genuine.
Hallia resisted the urge to shoot a triumphant look at those who had leered and eagerly waited her humiliating fumble, knowing it would only fuel the fires of wantom, reckless jealousy. She didn't entirely blame them, either. Although she had heard that others were even greater, here, in the small city of Asposa, she was the fastest learner. At barely fifteen years of age, she was close to becoming a proper Shrine Maiden, a Priestess of Ceipheed. Already she had learned many spells of the white magic sphere and had studied some with some shamans. She had found that her strength resided mainly in air shamanism, but what she had acquired, she knew, would be invaluable. Even though the fear of being questioned while unready again was quite present, her mind couldn't help but flit back to more recent, somber events.
It had been only three months ago that the Empire of Elmekia, the powerful northern neighbor of Lumeria, her land of birth, had declared war on them. There had been no gauntlet thrown, no insults given. One day the borders were peaceful and clear of all but a few lazy outpost and some peddlers, and next they knew a large, well-armed strike force had crossed over, burning many villages and forts along the border and marching ever southward. The High Priest once told her the King had been caught unawares, and that he had cause for it. After all, Elmekia had been in a fruitless, long-running conflict with magical Zeffilia almost since the human realms arose after the War of Resurrection. However, he had said, they should have been prepared: Elmekians were ever greedy.
What had NOT been expected was the lack of reactions from the other realms which touched their borders. The Alliance of Coastal States had sent their ambassador packing, Queen Uliana VI of Zefilia had told them in no uncertain terms that she was concerned only about her own country, and the Duke of Kalmaart hadn't even deigned see the ambassador about the matters of the new Lumeria-Elmekia War. The worst blow, however, had come from Sailune. Wealthy, with a large standing army and high-level white sorcery which made it the strongest nation on the Continent, it could have forced the Elmekians to lay back and negotiate. But even though King Fedoniel Parrel Di Sailune had showed dismay over the situation, he refused to act on behalf of either side. This show of neutrality put Lumeria alone against a much more powerful foe.
Armies had thus been gathered, youths conscripted, battalions sent. Including her father and brother, an older man and another barely old enough to hold a sword. They had gone to help the Kingdom prevail against their foe, leaving her alone, sending her their pay to help her get through her religious schooling.
How she missed them both! How very cruelly she did! But she wouldn't have to wait much longer. As soon as she passed the Clerical Rites, she would find a way to be assigned to the clerics who fought and took care of the wounded on the front lines. Her father would be angry, her brother appalled, and both would certainly resent seeing her on a field of battle. And she wouldn't care.
They were family. Beside her faith in Ceipheed, little counted to her but them.
And that was why she would go to fight the war just as they did. To be with them, and never leave.
* * *
Ridiculous. A Shrine Maiden? HA! Oh, she has a good deal of magical potential in her, but to trust her to bring about great events...
She will, she will. There is no doubt in my mind. When you look at her, what do you see.
A child who has no real faith in the Gods. Her powers will fail her one day.
Truth. But what I see is someone who hasn't yet been able to find something to truly draw power from. Once she does, she will be powerful in magic and in spirit.
A new Rezo? I cannot believe it.
Not someone as powerful, but what she lacks in power, she will make up with a goodness the Red Priest hasn't known for many years. She and the young man are linked, and I see others linked to them. Truly, this could be something of proportions.
And how will those events unfold?
Now, now. Where would the expectations be if I told you that, my friend?
____________
Prologue
On one side of the gate stood a field of trees and flowers, carefully tended by subtle magic from the gardeners and the people. A large, paved way, free of any crack or overgrowth lanced in the midst of the powerful scene of beauty, receding into the background, where dwellings and the top ends of twisted - yet oh so beautiful - towers doggedly broke the treeline. All around that place, a feeling of eternal peace and calm filled the air and sank into the ground, bringing in a sense of quietness and contentment which almost seemed to chant its glory.
On the other side of the gate stood trees, and some flowers, but there was no ordered feel to them. Strong maples, proud pines and sturdy oaks stood in their multitudes, in the utter disarray in which nature had left them, surrounded by shrubs and the inevitable wildflowers and wild mushrooms. A damp air was wafting through, carrying no sense of peace but rather a restlessness, a feeling that peace could never be achieved, that the people living there would never truly wish for it. There was no glory here, only a waiting for ever-changing tidings.
On one side of the portal was Mipross, home of the elves, where Loerik Gabriev had lived the eighteen years of his life. On the other was the Empire of Elmekia, a land at war, where his decision had banished him.
If the bitterness of it all hadn't been wringing his heart until he was nearly blind from it, he would have cried incessantly.
People were there with him, on this last day, the day were he would embrace his choice. Precious few - his decision to choose his human blood and become fully human at the time of choice had deprived him of friends he had known since childhood. Elven maidens who had once tittered and winked at him enticingly now turned cold gazes on him, teachers no longer knew him as anything but a stranger, and even...even one of his family, his own brother, had refused to see him go. Only three had come.
His father, Rowdy, was there of course, his blue hair now laced with grey, his small but well-built frame barely coming to his son's abdomen. Another thing to be bitter about. Where all the children in the family had been born small with blond hair, he had become tall, even for most humans, with hair as black as a raven. Only his blue eyes mirrored his parents', although his were wounded and bitter, while theirs were grieving.
His mother was also there, pale, slight and kind Mellyroon, crying her heart out for all of them, her elven features, so pure and beautiful marred by a deep sense of loss and sadness. And toddling next to her, confused and saddened by what she felt, was the youngest of the family, little Varlya. His chest contracted painfully as a lump formed in his throat, and he tried to push it away, but before pride reasserted itself, a sob tore through his athletic frame. It didn't escape his parents' notice.
Rowdy bowed his head for a moment and blinked quickly. "I never imagined...that they...that all of this would happen." That was an understatement, for Rowdy had argued with the elven council against the banishment, but even his status as hero amongst the elves - which was why he had been accepted where no other human had ever been - hadn't been enough to sway the elders. And so the eyes of the father held a sense of defeat, and he didn't quite meet his son's eyes. "I never thought I'd have to see one of my children go this way."
"Banishment!" Mellyroon wept. "What cruelty! How could they make that decision? How could they?!?" Varlya only sniffled in obvious discomfort and befuddlement. Rowdy put a comforting arm around his love's shoulders, but he seemed to be sayinmg the same thing.
"The Elders' decision is final, mother." Loerik stated softly. Surprisingly he did not sound angry, or bitter. He sounded casual. Those feelings were for his own heart only. "I can only obey them now."
Mellyroon shook herself from her husband's grasp, and looked up at her son in something which almost seemed anger. "I won't stand for that! I...I won't! You'll have your place, with your family!"
"We'll do all we can, son." Rowdy added in determination.
Loerik felt his chest tighten again, but kept a tight rein on them. "Father, mother, please. Its too late..."
"We'll see about that, boy! You just wait and see." he sighed "Besides, its where you belong."
"My place belongs with the humans now, not the elves!" the tall young man bellowed, is anger breaking through a moment. Varlya gave a wail, and he immediately felt ashamed of himself. But he didn't apologize, even when Mellyroon started to soothe the little girl. He knew what he said was right. And his father knew it too. "You wouldn't have given me the Sword of Light if you hadn't thought I'd be gone long."
His father flinched, and his gaze inadvertently darted to the large sword secured in a elven-made scabbard. The sword which had been in the Gabriev family since the first of the line had received it and used it to help turn the tide against the mazoku in the War of Resurrection. It was this sword which had enabled Rowdy's own father to save the city of Sairaag from the Great Beast Zannafar. It was this sword which had made his father a hero, and enabled Loerik's very existence.
Rowdy looked at his son with sad blue eyes. "It seemed appropriate. That sword is one of the greatest weapons of war known, it has no place on Mipross. And the blade was always passed from father to the most skilled son, and you, my son, are a magnificent swordsman, one of the very best." his voice quavered. "Ceipheed knows how I'll miss you."
"We all will. Even your brother Tulin will." Mellyroon added, tears once again streaming down her eyes. Loerik stiffened at the name. Not now. Not yet. The wound was too fresh, the rage too great. That would take a long time to heal...if it ever did. His mother's pretty face tightened. "And we won't give up. You'll be with us again, Loerik. We won't stop until that cruel banishment is lifted." she looked at her husband, and he nodded firmly in response.
The young warrior smiled at his parents sadly, hiding the hopelessness he felt. "Well then, until next we meet, then, I'll do my best here."
They embraced, he and his father clasping forearms in a grip which belied the seeming dry tone of the exchange. That and their eyes, of course, which told what a thousand words couldn't. His mother nearly throttled him as she hugged his neck, and she whispered that she loved him, and never to give up, never to give in. He wouldn't. If only for those three, he wouldn't. No matter what the human world had in store for him.
No matter what he had to do.
He crouched at last to the toddling Varlya, fixing his eyes on her tenderly. She was chubby and innocent-looking, her eyes wide and distressed, knowing something was up but not able to truly understand what was going on. He had to force himself not to grimace. Varlya would grow up to understand that her brother rejected the elven way of life, no matter what he knew his parents would try to minimize that fact. He wouldn't be there to take care of, he wouldn't see her play. Not for a long time. Maybe never. Damn the elves! Damn him and damn the whole universe!
He rustled his sister's hair fondly for a moment, then spoke to her gently. "Varlya, I have to be going now. Take good care of mother and father until I come back. If I ever do, he finished bitterly.
Blue eyes blinked "Where are ya going, Lorik?" her tiny voice asked, mispronouncing his name as usual.
"Just on a very big adventure. I'll be back one day, you just wait, okay?" he sincerely hope his smile seemed relaxed. It appeared it was, as she nodded with vigor, and hugged him as if he was only going for a few days. Ignorance could be such a bliss sometimes.
Other words were exchanged, but the meeting had said all that was to be said. After one last hug from his mother and a fond pat on the shoulder from his father, he watched them cross to the portal, which started closing almost immediately. As the magic collapsed, his father strechtched out a hand towards him, and said "You're the Swordsman of Light! Remember that! And remember that whatever happens, we will always love you!" And with that, the portal collapsed, shutting him out of the elven world, possibly forever.
"I'll remember, father." Loerik said softly. "I'll..." he choked, his vision blurring as tears sprang unbidden into his eyes. He didn't fight them, didn't fight the sobs and the despair which was tearing at his soul anew. He was alone. His pride no longer had any say.
And for long moments after, the woods of Elmekia resounded with the wails of a young man who was alone, bereft, and in pain.
* * *
Him? You say he is of importance? He is weak, his will is shattered by the present events! He is nothing!
But he will be. I have foreseen it. Greatness as well as pain await him, sadness and love, death and life. He will be tempered by it. And events will unfold that will help the World of Man remain free.
You speak in riddles, old friend.
Only the truth as it will be. I know what I have glimpsed.
And what are these great things this pitiful child could do?
You shall see. Others will join him. One, in particular, will bear watching.
Whom?
This one, my friend, this one...
* * *
So Oerlus the Silent, saddened by the reckless use of the Black Arts and wary of the expediency of the Shamanistic powers, worked to learn the secrets of Ceipheed and the Golden Dragons. Although it was proven that humankind...that humankind...that humankind possessed some powers of healing, it wasn't until Oerlus met and sealed a pact with Merrizzialis the Dragon Lady, that White Magic as we know...White...White... Magic...as...we... ... ...
"HALLIA."
The sharp words cut through the rapidly dimming mind of Hallia Servales, young Shrine Maiden of the Dragon-God, and had the effect of a full bucket of full water. Although decisively pretty, with a fine, slightly rounded face, a well-developed body that belied her fifteen winters and which wasn't hidden by the priestly robes she wore, her reaction was far less than dignified. She gasped, her large blue eyes widened even more than it should have been human to do, and her dark green hair seemed to stand on air as she looked about at the varying reactions of the other apprentices in her class and blushed bright red.
Mother Lobilia, the priestess who had taught her and the others on magic and the history of magic, pinced her tin lips together and glared, arms crossed, foot slightly tapping. She looked the image of a thunderstorm about to break. Although a powerful priestess and one possessing great wisdom and knowledge, there was one thing the older woman never, ever tolerated: laziness in her classroom.
"Hallia, dear girl," she started with a deceptively mild voice which sent everyone - and the newly awakened Hallia especially - on edge "If you are so wise and intelligent that the learning of the history of White Magic is of no import to you, then, by all means, leave this class and go play with the flowers outside, take a nap, as long as it isn't in MY classroom." the last was said with an ever-rising voice, and the green-haired teenager cringed.
"Forgive me, mistress, it was a mishap. I..."
"A mishap indeed." was the sharp cut in her fumbling apologies "If you need to stay awake, then read us the entire chapter on Oerlus, and make it a lively one!"
The young maiden almost sighed but checked herself quickly : the chapter on Oerlus the Sage was, without a doubt, long and especially dull, but she knew she had no choice but to obey. She was a learner of the way of the church, and Lobilia was one of the mistresses. What she heard was what she had to do, and that was that. 'Besides', she thought glumly, glimpsing the faintly pleased faces of the others in the class 'Anything to keep those jealous wolves at bay.' So she stood up, and, with a clear voice, recited the story of Oerlus and the Creation of White Magic.
She didn't stumble once, her voice never cracked, and to the disgust of other classmates, her being seemed to be as calm as a gentle sea breeze. She didn't feel that way one bit, yet it allowed Mistress Lobilia's stern features to soften somewhat, and the nod she offered her at the end of the recitation, although sharp, was genuine.
Hallia resisted the urge to shoot a triumphant look at those who had leered and eagerly waited her humiliating fumble, knowing it would only fuel the fires of wantom, reckless jealousy. She didn't entirely blame them, either. Although she had heard that others were even greater, here, in the small city of Asposa, she was the fastest learner. At barely fifteen years of age, she was close to becoming a proper Shrine Maiden, a Priestess of Ceipheed. Already she had learned many spells of the white magic sphere and had studied some with some shamans. She had found that her strength resided mainly in air shamanism, but what she had acquired, she knew, would be invaluable. Even though the fear of being questioned while unready again was quite present, her mind couldn't help but flit back to more recent, somber events.
It had been only three months ago that the Empire of Elmekia, the powerful northern neighbor of Lumeria, her land of birth, had declared war on them. There had been no gauntlet thrown, no insults given. One day the borders were peaceful and clear of all but a few lazy outpost and some peddlers, and next they knew a large, well-armed strike force had crossed over, burning many villages and forts along the border and marching ever southward. The High Priest once told her the King had been caught unawares, and that he had cause for it. After all, Elmekia had been in a fruitless, long-running conflict with magical Zeffilia almost since the human realms arose after the War of Resurrection. However, he had said, they should have been prepared: Elmekians were ever greedy.
What had NOT been expected was the lack of reactions from the other realms which touched their borders. The Alliance of Coastal States had sent their ambassador packing, Queen Uliana VI of Zefilia had told them in no uncertain terms that she was concerned only about her own country, and the Duke of Kalmaart hadn't even deigned see the ambassador about the matters of the new Lumeria-Elmekia War. The worst blow, however, had come from Sailune. Wealthy, with a large standing army and high-level white sorcery which made it the strongest nation on the Continent, it could have forced the Elmekians to lay back and negotiate. But even though King Fedoniel Parrel Di Sailune had showed dismay over the situation, he refused to act on behalf of either side. This show of neutrality put Lumeria alone against a much more powerful foe.
Armies had thus been gathered, youths conscripted, battalions sent. Including her father and brother, an older man and another barely old enough to hold a sword. They had gone to help the Kingdom prevail against their foe, leaving her alone, sending her their pay to help her get through her religious schooling.
How she missed them both! How very cruelly she did! But she wouldn't have to wait much longer. As soon as she passed the Clerical Rites, she would find a way to be assigned to the clerics who fought and took care of the wounded on the front lines. Her father would be angry, her brother appalled, and both would certainly resent seeing her on a field of battle. And she wouldn't care.
They were family. Beside her faith in Ceipheed, little counted to her but them.
And that was why she would go to fight the war just as they did. To be with them, and never leave.
* * *
Ridiculous. A Shrine Maiden? HA! Oh, she has a good deal of magical potential in her, but to trust her to bring about great events...
She will, she will. There is no doubt in my mind. When you look at her, what do you see.
A child who has no real faith in the Gods. Her powers will fail her one day.
Truth. But what I see is someone who hasn't yet been able to find something to truly draw power from. Once she does, she will be powerful in magic and in spirit.
A new Rezo? I cannot believe it.
Not someone as powerful, but what she lacks in power, she will make up with a goodness the Red Priest hasn't known for many years. She and the young man are linked, and I see others linked to them. Truly, this could be something of proportions.
And how will those events unfold?
Now, now. Where would the expectations be if I told you that, my friend?
____________