Dawn of Discovery (Closed)

[Cydnar]

Dawn of Discovery (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YN13JIVP1Ao&feature=related)

2661


Closed to The Phoenix.

Set after the war with the Ixian Knights, and The Semantics of Sundering (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?21829-The-Semantics-Of-Sundering-(Solo)/page2&highlight=).


Prologue


War was a bitter sport for bitter men.

Hatred was the tool of an unforgiving heart.

An unforgiving and bitter man, then, was a true tyrant indeed.

I had seen it at work too many times to think any different. People suffered needlessly for the enjoyment and pleasure of others, often for years, decades, and centuries at a time. War, however, had a way with the pawns of the world’s political, religious, and spiritual powers. Despite my reservations, hatreds, and opinions on the conflict between sides, I had all too often found myself fighting in them. The first was with the Drow, the second with the Necromancer, and the third with the Ixian Knights.

An ideology has shaped my confused mind over the course of those three wars. Despite spending centuries fighting a secret war beneath the mantle of the world to prevent magical misuse and the destruction of Althanas, it has become apparent that the only way I can continue to do as was prophesised, is to take up arms. It is now my strong belief, and vehement conviction that the course of action we took to help Elisdrasil and his Phoenix Ascendant should be the course of action of my people in the years to come.

Through bones and blood, we shall seek the betterment of the scarred world and its people.

“Cydnar…”

I snapped quickly out of my day dream, grumbling, mumbling, and smacking my lips to moisten them. It took a few moments for me to realise that I had once again half fallen asleep at the table. I looked at my brother, and then to the now all but empty tavern, and let out a long, all too enjoyable sigh.

“Forgive me, Dalasi. I can only assume the elf has not shown him yet?” Whilst there was a tone of question in my voice, Dalasi knew enough about my mannerisms to know that it was purely rhetorical. He resigned himself to a humbling nod as he drained the last dregs of the local ale from his battered, once resplendent tankard.

“This is getting tiresome, I admit,” said the swordsman, “but we have to persevere. From the tone of his voice, I cannot see any other meaning to draw from his summons.” He paused for effect, and I used the time to sit upright and listen. “We are needed once again.”

“But to see us in person is most unusual. He has been torn away on matters pertaining to the guild on each previous occasion. During the war, we saw neither hide nor hair of him, and letters have always been his preferred method of contact.” As a man who relied on charisma to lead his allies through flame and fringe, Elisdrasil was remarkably absent from their lives.

“He did mention an augury, though. Do you remember when we first met Artemis Eburi?” he cocked his head at me inquisitively. I sighed.

“How could I possibly forget that strange encounter…” I sounded bitter deliberately.

“Well,” I watched my brother push himself up from the table and raise his empty vessel. “Shall I refill our drinks before I tell you what I think has happened?” he made to pick up my wine glass, and I did not stop him. It was too late in the afternoon to be concerned with inebriation and social graces. Whatever state Elisdrasil found us in was the state he was going to have to suffer.

“By all means, brother, let us hear your tale and raise a glass to a blacksmith or two!” I bolted upright, beamed a smile, and waved him away to the bar on his errand. All the while, the sense of deep down foreboding continued to increase in the pit of my stomach. The black hearth grew, as did the humidity and smoke from the dying hearth on the far wall. The silence, broken only by sporadic glass smashing, chairs sliding, and barman singing intensified, and somewhere out in the world, an ancient witch threw bones and guts, and saw a destiny form between the children of the dark, and the light.

Whatever Elisdrasil had seen in the shadows and the mists would bring us together at last.

[The Phoenix]

Thin, graceful fingers worked in a casual yet steady rhythm, rolling an Imperial Mark in a ceaseless, dazzling dance in, around, and between their numbers. The ease with which the display was performed denoted a spectacular expertise in the art of sleight of hand and would have been a guaranteed night of paid food and drink were they to be performed on Boomtown’s offset stage. But while the act would have cemented his status as an expert amongst the bards and minstrels that more frequently took their bows upon the polished hardwood stage, it was a meaningless diversion to the head of Phoenix Ascendant. Elisdrasil, the last of the Phoenix, had taken to performing the act as a way to occupy the base, reptilian hindbrain during times that he found it necessary to maintain his full capacity for concentration.

He’d needed a lot of concentration during the last few months, as evidenced by the smoothness on the coin where his motions had almost completely worn away Corone’s stamped relief. Elisdrasil had been trained from birth in the many skills necessary to assassinate a being of almost unimaginable power. He’d learned stealth and acrobatics, trained in blade and spell, and had honed his body and mind to an adamantine rapier’s point, but the one area that had not been drilled into him was the aspect of leadership that would have been his right had his mentors not failed in their scrying and failed to foresee the rise of Xem’Xund’s forces. There would always be time to raise him to the role of master once his destiny had been fulfilled, they had said. But they had fallen, and Xem’Xund had fallen, and Elisdrasil now found that of all the things he was now expected to do, taking the lead of the Phoenix Ascendant was highest on the list.

Phoenix Ascendant, he thought, closing his eyes with a sigh and he slumped into the heavy oak chair that Tickers and Boom-Boom had placed in his spartan Boomtown living quarters. Most of the adventuring guild’s members thought nothing more of it than that, a cadre of people yearning for a life of excitement with the promise of riches, power, camaraderie, and perhaps a chance to make the world a better place. Certainly they thought that now that the guild’s ranks had exploded following the defeat of the Ixian Knights at the hands of the Coronian Empire, something made possible only by the intervention of the nascent Phoenix Ascendant. Now the name of Phoenix Ascendant had spread across Althanas and he was receiving request almost daily for the guild to new open guildhalls. The name of the Phoenix had risen again with Elisdrasil and his ilk was being hailed as a champion of the people.

But that was a lie, Elisdrasil knew. His actions in opposing Sei Orlouge had had nothing to do with protecting the people of Corone. In fact, in keeping the Empire in power he had probably only exacerbated their suffering. While the Empire had defeated the Ixian Knights and controlled the nation, Sei’s forces still occupied most of Corone’s cities. Gisela, Jadet, and Serenti were surrounded, locked in tight in a siege that the Ixian Knights remaining forces, scattered and beaten as they were, could not hope to weather for long. But they were proud and would not relent, subjecting the people’s under their protection to the ills that were the result of their actions in the misguided notion that they were saviors.

And I could have prevented that, Elisdrasil mused. His mind took toll of the figures that he had been sent throughout the conflict, of the mounting number of dead and wounded, of the shortages of supplies and burnt crops inflicted by both sides. Sei’s war had already exacted a staggering toll on the people of Corone and it would only get worse. But none of that mattered to Elisdrasil. He would have sacrificed every last man, woman, and child in Corone to have stopped Sei’s army from fulfilling the Ixian Knight’s vaunted prophecy. He was working towards a greater goal than the happiness of one human nation.

Elisdrasil was working to save Althanas itself.

Destiny was a fickle thing. An endlessly reaching spider’s web of choices and consequences which trailed and spiraled along the paths set by everything in existence. It was the reason why divination wasn’t exact, why the Phoenix had miscalculated and had been wiped out rather than rising to be the saviors of Raiaera. Or at least that was how it was supposed to be.

But there was something wrong with the twisting pathways of destiny, a knot which had formed and wound ever tighter towards the end of all existence. The knot was fuelled by prophecies, and each one that came to pass bound it tighter and tighter. Only by derailing prophecy, by fighting against destiny could the knot be undone. But to complete such a thing was harder than it sounded. Destiny was as wily as it was fickle, and truly breaking a prophecy was a surprisingly difficult thing. Elisdrasil had derailed the Ixian prophecy by coming to Corone’s aid during Sei’s war of aggression but he wasn’t sure that he had truly broken it.

It only took Elisdrasil a moment to free his mind from its constraints, allowing his future sight to roam freely along the pathways of what-may-be. He was becoming increasingly practiced in the arts of divining, but knew that there were many paths still forbidden to his otherwise novice mind. All of the members of the Phoenix had used divination to guide their actions, and the greatest of them had moved so freely through destiny’s pathways that they could almost guide the world at a whim. Though he might one day reach that level of mastery, Elisdrasil knew that he still had a long way to go. Unfortunately, time was something that he didn’t have the luxury of wasting at the moment. Prophecies that weren’t broken were usually quick to right themselves and in doing so, tightened the noose of the cord that would strangle Althanas. What Elisdrasil needed then was an aid, something to help guide his future sight along destiny’s pathways.

Which is where the Hummel brothers came in.

The bastard race was known for its powers over the rocks and the soil and the things that dwelt within. Elisdrasil remembered tales from his mentors of rare crystalline formations that, when rune etched, significantly aided in the casting of divinations. If such crystals truly did exist as something more than legend, than Cydnar would be the one to know of it.

The common room must be nearly clear by now, Elisdrasil thought, pulling his future sight back to reclaim the present. A smooth motion slipped the mark into the cuff of the sienna robe that the raiaeran wore and he rose and moved to the window of his room with only the slightest hiss of cloth to mark his passing. He momentarily pondered bringing slipping his sheathed blade into the security of his lashed belt but decided against it. Though the Ixian Knights had been defeated and hostilities against them had formally stopped, there were still those members of Phoenix Ascendant who had lost friends and loved ones during the war or were simply eager to claim the bounty that the Imperial Army had ongoing for the head of any Ixian Knight and Elisdrasil hoped to encourage peace within his ranks by showing that he himself had put his weapons down. While Corone might still be banging the drums of war against their onetime opponents, this was a time of peace for Phoenix Ascendant and Elisdrasil intended to prove it. Also, he had heard that Cydnar respected men of peace more than men of war and if Elisdrasil were to bring the hummel to his side he had to show Cydnar that he favored words over steel.

Trailing his robe down the steps behind him, Elisdrasil entered the common room with inhuman grace and composure and made his way unwaveringly towards the sodden table at which Cydnar and his brother sat.

[Cydnar]

Chatter and conversation continued to fade as Dalasi approached the bar. The border town Elisdrasil had selected for our meeting, or so it seemed, died a slow death as the sun set and the evening formed its own, silent, and eternal vigil over the damned. Odd though it was, I felt comfortable here, despite my burgeoning xenophobia and my love for the shadows of the Underdark. In the quite parts of Althanas, there was a kinship peace to be found I had not considered hospitable until now.

“How long it remains peaceful, on the other hand,” I whispered silently, only aware my thoughts were forming words when the party on the adjacent table broke free of their heated debate to glare.

“What?” one asked?

“Oh, nothing, sorry sirs,” I replied, waving them away and returning to me by now empty glass.

An awkward silence faded into normality.

I noticed the High Elf long before my brother, and smiled graciously to him. Leaving Dalasi to tend to the drinks, I gestured to Elisdrasil to join us, and rose slightly as he approached. Decorum was as important to me as the way of the blade was to my brother. It took little time for our eyes, hearts, and meanings to mingle.

“It is a pleasure, milord,” I said, sitting down and waiting, haphazard and aloof before a man who, by all rights, was my superior. “Forgive Dalasi; he has gone to refill our vessels. I daresay if you would like a drink, on us, of course, he will return and fetch one when he is done.” Whilst I waited for the leader of the Phoenix Ascendant to approach, sit, and reply, I examined his form with keen unobtrusive intent.

There was no denying, even by the placated and dull colour standards of the Hummel, that he was immaculately dressed.

“Hello, Cydnar.” He hazarded, aloof in all his grandeur.

“I trust your journey was pleasant?” I asked knowing convention required it, though I had no interest in the details of what would either be a magical journey, or one on roughshod horseback. Either offended my sensibilities.

“As much as can be expected in troubled times.” He patted himself down, and ventured to approach. He almost shone resplendent amidst the squalor of our environ.

Though we leant towards simple fabrics, except were spider silk could be procured, the sienna robe of our compatriot stood out in the fetid environ of the inn. Though the barkeep, Pathos, has assured us that this was the finest inn in Underwood, it was a ramshackle dump compared to the Raiera sheen that moved towards us. Even I, clad in black and deep umbra purple robes befitting my station as the High Salthias, lord of the Hummel, felt entirely underwhelmed, and equally unprepared.

“I am assuming wine, if anything, would be your drink of choice?” I cocked my head to the left, pointed to Dalasi, who was by now entrenched in conversation with the all too enthusiastic barkeep, and relaxed. I set my palms crossed on my lap as a sign of neutrality, and awaited his response.

[The Phoenix]

“Wine,” Elisdrasil repeated, the word rolling about his tongue as if he were already sampling the vintage. “Yes, of course,” he answered, taking the offered seat with a gracious nod of the head, “that would be more than sufficient.” He settled in with a pleasant sigh and offered Cydnar a pleasant smile which did well to mask the hard, scrutinizing nature of his gaze.

Elisdrasil had been raised by the Phoenix in seclusion, away from the more prevalent ideologies and prejudices which permeated Raiaeran society. Even so, there were certain ideas so pervasive that they had found their way into the young warrior, the most obvious being the racial vehemence towards the Alerians, Althanas’ so-called Dark Elves. To have found out that there was entire race of elves sharing a common bloodline between his people and his people’s racial enemies had been quite a surprise to Elisdrasil, and it had carried a hint of that old prejudice with it. He was doing his best to put the reflexive feelings aside, especially given the Hummel’s stellar performance for Phoenix Ascendant during the Ixian War of Aggession, but overcoming ingrained prejudices wasn’t so easy a thing to do. Even here, given nothing but pleasant treatment, Elisdrasil felt a vague sense of disgust as he looked at the half-breed.

The next several minutes were nothing more than mindless pleasantries passed back and forth in a low enough tone to not bother the few drunken country folk still inhabiting that tavern. No progress was made between the two of them, and no business was discussed until Dalasi returned bearing three freshly poured glasses of wine. Elisdrasil made to rise as the younger Yrene approached, but Dalasi waved him off with a shake of the head.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Dalasi said as he said, dropping unceremoniously into his seat once the drinks were safely on the table. The rickety wood creaked ominously beneath the jangling weigh of the “ready at a moment’s notice” warrior, but held firm.

Elisdrasil turned his practiced smile on Dalasi, “After all the reports detailing your exploits that I received during the late unpleasantness, I didn’t think that it was possible to be any more impressed with you.” Plucking his glass from the table with grace, Elisdrasil sipped at the liquid before turning a sly look upon Cydnar. “But hearing how your brother extols your virtues makes me realize how wring I was. He has quite the way with words, your brother.”

Dalasi shrugged nonchalantly, as if the news meant nothing to him, but there was no mistaking the swell of pride in his smile. Seeing this, Cydnar gave a polite laugh, “And it appears I’m not the only one.”

“Yes, yes,” Dalasi said, taking a rather large gulp from his drink, “Now that we’ve established how much respect you have for Cydnar and me, maybe you’ll finally tell us why you’ve asked us to meet you here.”

Cydnar sighed a knowing sigh at Dalasi’s actions but made no attempt to cover his brother’s bluntness. For one, it was merely Dalasi’s nature to be more straightforward than he, one of the reasons he valued his brother’s company so much. The other reason was that he was just as curious as Dalasi about their summons. Across the table, Elisdrasil’s eyes lit up to match the smile on his face for the first time. Like Dalasi, the Raiaeran was far more comfortable in the role of soldier than diplomat.

“To the point, I appreciate that,” he said, taking a longer sip from his wine. “I’ve asked you two here because there’s something I’m looking for, something I’m not sure even really exists but which must be kept selectively obfuscated if it does.”

The half-full wine glassed clinked against the table as Elisdrasil set it down and slid it forward, leaning over the table as he did so. There was an aura of excitement and mystery about the Raiaeran that was almost unmistakable. “What I’m looking for is a formation of crystals which are resonantly in tune with divination magic. The ones who told me of them called them Seer Crystals, but I don’t know what they would be called in your tongue. The stories about them say that they grow naturally in places where the course of fate is routinely channeled and when etched with the proper runes can work to do the same.”

Elisdrasil turned his attention to Cydnar. “Stones, I hear, are your specialty. I understand that the Seer Crystals would be incredibly rare if they do exist, and more likely than not to be found in a dangerous location.”

“But then, I don’t think you’re the types to blanch from a little danger,” he finished, casting a sly glance at Dalasi as he did so.

[Cydnar]

The word danger had, once upon a time, been a warning sign to Cydnar. Since the death of his god, and the rise of his people from the Under Dark, however, danger was merely an everyday occurrence to be side winded and dodged whenever the opportunity arose. Quite out of character, the elf smirked.

“I fear you know us both all too well in such a short time, Elisdrasil.” He turned to his brother, who by now was enthralled with the High Elf, and far too eager to fall into line, “but rocks and paupers and omniscient wishes only make me cautious, and not more interested in what you have to offer.” He gestured to the table, and waited for the elf to sit, comfortably, and take to his drink with a soft, whispery, and rain like sip.

“Does the name itself not incite ideas with you?” Elisdrasil asked enrolling virtues of his own with a softer smile than he had managed before now. “Have I come up short so soon?” There was a pleading tone to the elf’s voice that Cydnar admired. Though a leader of a warring faction, his purported leader was not, it seemed, unafraid to show weakness to his peons.

Cydnar and Dalasi shook their heads in unison. The swordsman chuckled, and let his brother take centre stage as was customary for the duo.

“The Sage Stones or The Dania is well known amongst the elder members of my kin.” He produced a small leather-bound from within the folds of his black and purple robes. He set it into the table, turned it with splayed fingers, and pushed it forwards. “They are, in fact, a dominant part of the Hummel religion.”

“By dominant, my brother of course means he is obsessed with them,” Dalasi chuckled, before taking to his drink with as much gusto as a drunkard enjoying the moment far too much could. He set the tankard down only when it was half emptied, and only when both of his companions had stopped shaking their heads and diverting their attentions to the slowly bustling and burgeoning crowd that started to gather in the tavern as night and dusk morphed into revelry.

“Obsessed, certainly,” Cydnar flicked his hair behind his ears, “but because they are so…” he minced his words, “they are assumed to be something much more than they are by any race outside our own.” He sighed. “The Stones are in fact scales off the back of the snake-deity Yrene, whom we worship as a collective. Few remain, on the merit of Yrene having died in the war against the necromancer Xem’Zund, but it is said that Ward stone, scales placed in earth and blessed still thrive in the rural heart of Althanas.”

“Middle of nowhere,” Dalasi added.

“So could you find them?” Elisdrasil asked, with the sort of suggestive meandering that came from an inexperienced orator.

Cydnar chuckled. Dalasi scoffed, both practically spat their drink. “Find them?” they said together.

“Finding them is easy, Elisdrasil. I am surprised you’d ask,” Dalasi continued. His pleated hair and braided tails bobbed as he continued to show his mirth. “My brother might be the dichomotmantic deity you perceive him to be, and the people may hold him in high regard, but he is not an adventurer.”

“Dalasi, on the other hand, can take you directly to the nearest Seer Stone.” Cydnar continued, with the sort of rehearsed fallacy that came only with a comedic double act. The silence that followed was not quite as poignant, funny, or well-received as either party had hoped.

“Assuming, of course,” the reigning in was short, sharp, and well-timed. Cydnar had, it seemed, double guessed his brother’s integrity and timed his gathering of wits well. “That you can provide me adequate reason why I should offer you free, relinquished, and guided access to what amounts to a holy relic to my people?” which, as Cydnar could attest, was the absolute truth. The Seer Stones were powerful artefacts on the one hand, but also, the last fragments of a god who had died.

No amount of bartering, loyalty, and flattery could afford Elisdrasil free-reign and smouldering congisicience before such potent items. Just as Cydnar and Dalasi had to earn Elisdrasil’s audience, and his loyalty, and his trust, so too would Elisdrasil, the Phoenix, have to earn their respect.

[The Phoenix]

“The Dania,” the Raiaeran muttered, the unfamiliar word rolling about his tongue like the stones it represented. The levity fell away from his delicate features as he nodded to the brothers, an unspoken understanding that the time for pleasantries had passed. Electricity buzzed across the table, a tense humming which Elisdrasil knew would decide the future of the Hummel’s involvement in Phoenix Ascendant. A threshold had been crossed by the voicing of his request, a threshold which demanded an answer. And not only an answer, but a satisfactory one.

A soft groan creaked from Elisdrasil’s chair as he slumped back, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Were he forced to admit it he would have to confess that he cared little for the sanctity of the Hummel’s religious artifacts, and even less for respecting the reverence that the practitioners felt towards them. But the fevered looks and deathly seriousness which had overtaken the brothers as they discussed the Seer Crystals told Elisdrasil that it mattered very much to them. They were true believers, and despite what Elisdrasil felt about that belief, he understood and respected the power that it held over them.

Half a dozen platitudes had been formed and worked over while Elisdrasil had been waiting for the common area to clear out. Half a dozen storied that he could tell which would leave no doubt about his intentions with the crystals and would impart the necessity of his attaining them upon Cydnar and Dalasi. But under the stony, unwavering gaze of the Hummel, those stories crumbled and scattered as dust upon a broken shore. There was, he realized, only one thing he could really tell them that would win them to his cause.

“I’m going to tell you the truth,” Elisdrasil said and then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“Well?” Dalasi asked impatiently as the seconds dragged into minutes, his calloused fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the tabletop.

“Patience brother,” Cydnar replied, his gaze unwavering from Elisdrasil’s serene face. “I do believe that our leader is engaging in a divination.”

“A divination? For what purpose?” Dalasi asked, turning his annoyed attention to his elder brother. Cydnar merely hunched his shoulders in a subtle shrug and maintained his vigil over the lead Phoenix.

Finally, after several quiet minutes, Elisdrasil rocked back to the fore and opened his eyes. “Come with me,” he said, nodding politely to Cydnar and Dalasi for their patience.

“Curious,” Cydnar said, offering Dalasi another shrug but rising and following Elisdrasil all the same.

Quietly and full of grace, the trio glided across the common room and out the inn’s front door. While there was a measure of interest from the other patrons, it was late and the drink weighed too heavily on most of their minds to bring themselves to care. Once outside, Elisdrasil continued to lead the Yrene’s through the winding pathways of Underwood, occasionally pausing in the shadows and halting them with a quietly raised hand until it was safe to once more proceed unseen. The path they traversed was long and winding, even looping back upon itself in several places. But while their journey raised many questions in the minds of both brothers, they somehow understood that there was a reason for the obfuscation and mirrored Elisdrasil’s silent movements with exacting precision.

“Now then,” Elisdrasil said finally, halting the three of them in the center of Underwood’s open air park. “We’re finally safe to talk.”

“What exactly was the purpose of all that?” Dalasi asked, the mounting desire to question Elisdrasil propelling him into the conversation before Cydnar could get a word in.

Elisdrasil attempted to calm the younger Yrene with a placating gesture, though he appeared almost ot be waving him off. “I needed to ensure that there would be no one around when we spoke, no random eavesdroppers or passersby to catch a hint of what I’m about to tell you.”

“So the divination …?” Cydnar asked but was cut off.

“Yes, yes. It was to ensure that we were not overheard. I searched the nearby pathways to find a route that would achieve that goal, winding our way through Underwood in such a manner that no one would know where we went.” There was a measure of pride in Elisdrasil’s voice, though the impressiveness wasn’t quite so mirrored in Cydnar or Dalasi’s demeanor.

“Is our solitude really that necessary?” Dalasi asked, his annoyance apparent, “Or was that simply a demonstration of your capabilities with divination?”

A hint of arrogant pride fled from Elisdrasil’s visage and he deflated a little. “More of the latter than the former,” he admitted, somewhat sheepishly, “But what I have to tell you is very important and I do need you to understand that my divination isn’t that of an initiate or backroom card reader.” The Hummel shared a knowing look before returning their attention to Elisdrasil and gesturing for him to proceed.

Nodding graciously, Elisdrasil began, “Each member of Phoenix Ascendant is told the story of how I reestablished the order in homage to the group that trained me so that the work they carried out could be continued.” The brothers nodded, as they had indeed been made aware of this legend during their initiation to the adventurer’s guild. Seeing their agreement, Elisdrasil continued.

“That story is entirely false,” he said, ignoring the surprised looks he received. “The truth is that the original Phoenix was an organization founded on the idea that divination magic could be used to shape the future of Raiaera and its people, directing the flow of the future for beneficial purposes.”

“What?” Dalasi blurted. “I don’t …”

“Please,” Elisdrasil held a hand up, begging silence from his companions. “Please allow me to finish before casting judgment. I know that this must be a bit shocking and will probably feel like a bit of a betrayal of trust.”

“More than a bit,” Cydnar nodded in agreement.

“There is a reason for it though, and once it is explained I’m sure that you’ll both understand.”

“Alright,” Cydnar sighed. “Please continue then.”

“My thanks,” Elisdrasil nodded again to both of them. “The Phoenix had proceeded this way for generations, fading into obscurity even amongst our own people while working behind the curtain to see that we, and by extension Raiaera, flourished.”

“But then came Xem’Xund,” Elisdrasil muttered, a shadow crossing his face. Even the hardness of the Yrene’s loosened somewhat at sound of the dread necromancer’s name, for they were both more than familiar with the toll that the dark lord’s return had exacted.

“The Phoenix had foreseen Xem’Xund’s return, of course,” he continued, waving away the spectre of unpleasant memories. “And in their divining had foreseen that, through the proper preparation and training, Xem’Xund could be defeated at Raiaeran hands.”

“Those hands,” he gestured broadly, “Were to be my hands. I was selected and trained from birth to destroy Xem’Xund, but destiny is a fickle thing, and it doesn’t like to be controlled. The Phoenix had manipulated destiny’s course for too long and it was time for destiny to fight back. The weapon destiny chose weapon was Xem’Xund, and the necromancer’s armies swarmed the Phoenix before they could complete my training. The Phoenix died, using the last of their power to ensure that I was safe, and Xem’Xund went on to meet his end at other hands.”

“Enlightening,” Cydnar said, “A bit of interesting history perhaps, but not really much more than we already knew about the Corpse War. Where exactly is this leading, because I’m not really understanding where this leads to your need for the Dania.”

Elisdrasil once again gave a placating gesture to indicate that there was still more to his story. “After the Phoenix’s fall I fought against Xem’Xund’s armies the best I could. I swore that I would do whatever it took to rebuild the Phoenix and return them to their former glory. This time, however, the Phoenix would work with destiny rather than to try to control it. We would act more as a gardener than a farmer, pruning destiny’s pathways rather than plucking what the desired outcome from them. To that end I used my limited divination capabilities to seek out areas of resistance, allowing the visions to guide me where I thought destiny thought I would be most useful.”

Here Elisdrasil’s face became dark and hardened. “But I was wrong. In retaliating against the Phoenix’s manipulations, destiny had focused on areas of prophecy within its course, hardening around them and restricting the flow. One night, as I conducted my meditations, I was caught in the flow of the future’s branching pathways and found that instead of thinning out, becoming more obscure and ill-defined as it should be, the future was strengthening and becoming more focused.”

“I don’t get it,” Dalasi chimed in. “You’re saying that the future is actually becoming easier to read? If that’s the case, then why would you need the Dania?”

Elisdrasil looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain causality to his audience. “Every action,” he began, “And every choice that one needs to make causes a split in the future’s pathways. The further you go, the more actions and choices that we make, the more split they become and it becomes increasingly difficult to read them. There are certain events, prophecies, which are focused points in this maze. Up until now though, even these points haven’t been certainties given the right set of circumstances. But when destiny backlashed against the Phoenix, it began clustering around these points, making them firmer and more difficult to avoid.”

“So the future is becoming more concrete?”

“Precisely. It’s as if the future is becoming less like the branches of a tree and more like a river into which a multitude of tributaries flow. Each tributary, each fulfilled prophecy, adds to the river and makes it stronger and faster. And like all rivers, it is flowing to an endpoint.” It was more the seriousness of Elisdrasil’s demeanor, the conviction of his unconscious body language rather than his words which rang the bell of danger in their minds.

“And what’s at the end of this river?” Dalasi asked, though he knew the answer.

“The end of Althanas,” Elisdrasil replied.

“So that’s why you formed Phoenix Ascendant,” Cydnar said. “To prevent the end of the world.”

“To fight destiny,” Elisdrasil corrected. “To train the heroes and villains alike that are necessary to sunder the prophecies that feed the future’s river and divert its course.”

“Then the war against the Ixian Knights wasn’t to save Corone, was it?”

“No,” Elisdrasil admitted, dropping his head. “A part of it was obviously to mitigate the damage that Sei’s foolish declaration caused of course. After all I’m no monster and I don’t wish to see undue harm placed upon innocents any more than you do. But the true reason for our efforts to aid the Empire was to disrupt the prophecy that the Ixian Knights would save Radasanth.”

“Some of your more unsavory orders during the way make a little more sense now,” Cydnar said thoughtfully, looking to his brother who had also found some of the alliances and decisions that Elisdrasil had made to be distasteful.

“I’m no monster,” Elisdrasil repeated, “But I will sacrifice the freedom of the people of Corone to do what I can to divert the river if there is no other choice. That is why I need to be able to see all of the options I have available to me.”

“That,” he concluded, “Is why I need the Seer Crystals.”

[Cydnar]

The discussion was becoming intense enough to make Cydnar perspire. He took a heavy draft of the evening's air, leant briefly into the wind, and ran his index finger of his left hand around the ridge of his tankard. He had a lot to contemplate, and every time Elisdrasil offered an answer, the elf only found him in the possession of many more questions. He doubted they had enough time this evening to cover all the various tangents his thoughts were dividing into.

“You require a little exposition in your tale,” he said, softly and meekly, without the conviction of a true orator, but with all the emotion of a man on the edge. “I appreciate that you saw Xem’Zund’s fall, it was ordained in the stars in many religions, races, and cultures.” He held the tankard towards Dalasi, nodded, and stared at the high elf in earnest. His brother took the hint, and with a sigh, retreated from the group as silently as he could to refill their drinks. He did not ask Elisdrasil, he simply scooped up the vessels and teetered off in a cloud of beer vapour and scented wire trails.

“I do?” their employer enquired, turning his quizzical expression into one of true curiosity. “I am intrigued now, by all means.” He slumped his shoulders, and folded his hands over his groin with a regal grace.

“A high elf was present during the death of the necromancer.” Visions, in Cydnar’s limited knowledge of divination, often came at a price. Often, seers misinterpreted the information and prophecies they wielded as arcane legacy. “Perhaps your vision was indeed concrete, and indeed, perhaps it was the truth as witnessed by the passing of time.” He was still roiling in the confusion caused by Elisdrasil’s gambit. Whilst he still trusted the elf, he was not sure he was quite as dedicated to whatever it was he was being asked to do.

“How,” Elisdrasil shuffled his feet, took a deep breath, and continued, “could you possibly know that?” he raised an eyebrow. There was a commotion from the bar, and both elves turned to catch Dalasi exchanging a witty, unheard retort with the grizzled barman as he left.

“I was there.” Cydnar said, as flat and plain as he could. “I was present when Xem’Zund fell.” He left it there, unsure if his word would be taken as gospel.

Silence engulfed the firefly aerie for several minutes, broken only when Dalasi returned with a piss stained tray and a cheeky grin. He set it down onto the grass, oblivious to the heated debate raging over the jade blades.

“Now I am apologetic for my tone, but, can you back up that claim?” he took his own drink. He sipped the wine with gratitude, nodded to Dalasi, and then turned his gaze back to his supposed progeny. “If what you say is true, then the need for us to work together to find the Seer Stones has become even more important.”

“How is that so?” Dalasi asked though he was not certain of the context. After his leave of absence, he was eager to be involved.

“Your brother was just informing me he was present in the final confrontation with the greatest nemesis of freedom and life Althanas has known for millennia.” There was doubt in his accusation now, which was clunky and dangerous. “Do you know much of this supposed adventure?”

“He was,” Dalasi said, quite flatly. “When Althanas’ greatest heroes defeated the necromancer, it was the Thayne our people worship’s sacrifice that sealed his death into time’s memory. Yrene, the Snake God, gave his life to seal Xem’Zund into a crystal tomb.”

“Thus, my people’s history with the necromancer and the irony of our meeting and your request today, becomes apparent.” At least, Cydnar hoped it was. The niggling doubt in the elf’s mind was slowly undone by the cheeky grin that formed on his pallid, porcelain expression, and soon he could not help but chuckle.

“We’ll do it, then, I guess?” Dalasi shrugged, turned to his brother, sipped his drink, and chuckled along with them.

Cydnar nodded.

“The Seer Stones will be yours, good sir, and we shall see in all this meeting of threads and tangents, what exactly Destiny, concrete or otherwise, life has in store for our mutual race’s future.” Cydnar had only one thing left to do. He raised his glass, and all three elves clashed vessels and private plotting’s together in unison.