Chapter 11

Far past the borders of Havillah, beyond the mounds of the Earth-people and the ruins of Azmaveth, lies the Old Mountain. It swells so high into the above that only in the last rays of the setting sun is its summit visible. From its skirts flows the First River, largest and greatest of its kin. Further down, the First River divides and becomes the Young River in the east and the Great River in the west. The Young River passes away into the east until it meets the Three Sisters and together they flow into a distant sea. In the west the Great River increases as it moves to the sea and becomes a dangerous tide.

The land between the Young and Great Rivers is shaped like an arrowhead pointing toward the Old Mountain. In that point is a ring of mountains known in these days as the dark hills. Within times past they were the King's Orchard, and weary travelers paused to eat of their fruit before holding an audience with the king. By some unknown art or magic these hills now stretched cold and barren to the sky, forbidding in their strength. The only passages between the hills are the watchtowns of Seshak and Ashkenaz. Their towers make never ending vigil over the solemn paths and in those places never a friendly smile is seen.

The region inside the orchards had been one of peace and grace. The magical hues of its earth and trees, flowers and lakes had been such as to inspire the souls of all who saw it. Never in our world could we hear such music and tales as those that sprung from those golden days. But like all of Aeral, this too had been desecrated. Of the flowers and trees nothing remained. Black, putrid, lakes spilled their waters over the stinking bare earth. Over the whole land was settled an unnatural stillness.

Of all of the structures of the old settlement, only one had not been razed to the ground. Even the most audacious sinner dared not approach to defile the noble palace of King Traeven. It stood, year after year, watching with somber and grieving eye on the desolation of its companions. The Banu had built their own slipshod dwellings, but they were not built to improve the landscape. Rather by their very presence they sought to degrade the land on which they stood. Of these the worst was built on a small rise facing Traeven's palace. It was low to the ground and seemed to spread out endlessly. It looked out on stern contempt at the land of which it was lord.

It was to this particular edifice, the castle of Markin, that Wolfmar, a spy of the Banu came one moonlit night. To se the way he scampered over rock and stream on all fours, his iron gray hair obscuring his skeletal face, one would never have known that he had once been a handsome man and a great scholar among his people. He knocked at the great doors and was brought before his captain by a silent shadow of a man. Marduk was an impressive figure among the Banu and one to be feared, yet Wolfmar's news was fearful even to him. With a guttural growl he motioned for Wolfmar to follow as he tramped into the great hall of Markin.

Markin had also been a man once, but not even a likeness of manhood could be seen in his features. He was fascinating in his grotesques. Wolfmar's news was unpleasant to him as well:

"A child was seen on Door Hill. It is believed that she came through the door. She was taken into the borders of Havillah by one of the Thurrim. Emissaries of Meunin are departing to all corners of Aeral. It is believed that he is summoning a council of war."

Markin hissed between his teeth. This could cause problems. If all of the faithful followers of Traeven gathered together against him he could be defeated. Markin's true power was not one of military might, but one of intimidation. While the peoples of Aeral believed that he was in control, he was in control. But if they were to realize how weak he truly was… This news about the child didn't bother him much. It was most likely that she was one of the Thurrim. The spies in the south were imbeciles. He mulled over her presence. The legends said that one day an heir of Traeven would come through the door and overthrow him. If she were the one spoken of, it could mean trouble for him. But then, she was only a child. "One child is easily dealt with." He growled. But this insurrection in the South must be crushed before it began. Perhaps it was time that he once again make a display of power. He had killed the Thurrim and Orem and burned Azmaveth to the ground. This time he would go for the heart. He would attack Havillah.