about the Laen. Mostly it was history. I heard my ihal speaking enough to know there was active war beyond our borders and I knew the Laen were hunted and that was part of it. I did not know how bad it had become.”
“The Miriken have destroyed the Laen.” Arman's voice was very soft, as if he hoped by speaking quietly his words would be less true. “Those that still live are old and hiding. The youngest pose a threat simply because they could birth the Dhoah' Laen.”
“Dhoah?” Alea's heart pounded. Is that what Gluan meant when he asked if there was something more that ihal hid?
“She is the one that can bind the world again. I am not sure what the title means, exactly.”
“I was raised to pray to the gods, but we were not a devout family. I made offerings as frequently as any – mostly to Ikate, a goddess of the desert. I could never think of the gods as evil, hunting down their creators.”
Arman shook his head. “Many histories discuss the Division of the world. I am sure you could find a few in our library. It might do you well to understand how we see things here.” He stood abruptly and left without another word.
Between Gluan's pointed questions and Arman nearly laughing at her naiveté, she was drained and irritable. Speaking of her faith, when Arman's and most of the Vielronan's clearly differed, made it worse. At home, when the heat soured her mood, she would lie on the cool stone slabs by the baths with Merahn. Here she was always cold, had more time than ever, and yet still felt anxious. Her hand clenched around the dough as waves of homesickness crashed through her.
Φ
The 8th Day of Valemord, 1251
The City-state of Vielrona
As the next days passed, the surrounding forest turned from gold to orange and crimson. Their flames dotted the hills with brilliance and lent warmth to the cold air. Alea found much in the historical accounts in the Guild's library, and after Arman's pointed remark, made herself familiar with them. There was nothing of current tensions, in the books, however. An older tome told of the Laen's nature and the history of the Division. This one she returned to each day. Finally, one afternoon she found a passage towards the back.
Before the world was divided the gods walked the earth as men do now. Their rulers were the Laen and their guards the Rakos. The fiery Rakos governed change and the gods lived under the teaching of whatever element each represented. The Laen were different. They kept the balance of life and death, peace and war, chaos and order.
The gods were inquisitive and wanted more than what they had been given. They captured Lynel, the Laen's leader. They convinced her that even the Laen's rule had to pass, forcing her to split the world. With the world divided they did not have to live under the rule of either the Laen or the Rakos. Weakened by the rebellion's effect on the world's balance, the Laen could not fight the onslaught.
Alea stopped there. She had heard the tale a dozen times. It varied with each telling, as all legends did, but she had never heard a telling so sympathetic to the Laen. What side is even right? She stared out the window. The balance of nature is important, but could we have lived this long if it was damaged that badly? She flipped forward a few pages, ignoring the violence of the war that followed the Division. The war that has begun anew. Finally she found a passage, written towards the end.
Now, when the Division is centuries past, tales tell of another Laen. She will be more powerful than all before her, for she will be the embodiment of Creation and Destruction. She will be called the Dhoah' Laen for her dualistic nature. She will restore the world. Her power will cause wonder and sorrow, her touch will give relief and pain. Her love will bring life, but also death.
The words chilled Alea's bones. She had known the Laen to be austere, but even in a gods-supporting city, she had not been taught the ferocity detailed on the
“The Miriken have destroyed the Laen.” Arman's voice was very soft, as if he hoped by speaking quietly his words would be less true. “Those that still live are old and hiding. The youngest pose a threat simply because they could birth the Dhoah' Laen.”
“Dhoah?” Alea's heart pounded. Is that what Gluan meant when he asked if there was something more that ihal hid?
“She is the one that can bind the world again. I am not sure what the title means, exactly.”
“I was raised to pray to the gods, but we were not a devout family. I made offerings as frequently as any – mostly to Ikate, a goddess of the desert. I could never think of the gods as evil, hunting down their creators.”
Arman shook his head. “Many histories discuss the Division of the world. I am sure you could find a few in our library. It might do you well to understand how we see things here.” He stood abruptly and left without another word.
Between Gluan's pointed questions and Arman nearly laughing at her naiveté, she was drained and irritable. Speaking of her faith, when Arman's and most of the Vielronan's clearly differed, made it worse. At home, when the heat soured her mood, she would lie on the cool stone slabs by the baths with Merahn. Here she was always cold, had more time than ever, and yet still felt anxious. Her hand clenched around the dough as waves of homesickness crashed through her.
Φ
The 8th Day of Valemord, 1251
The City-state of Vielrona
As the next days passed, the surrounding forest turned from gold to orange and crimson. Their flames dotted the hills with brilliance and lent warmth to the cold air. Alea found much in the historical accounts in the Guild's library, and after Arman's pointed remark, made herself familiar with them. There was nothing of current tensions, in the books, however. An older tome told of the Laen's nature and the history of the Division. This one she returned to each day. Finally, one afternoon she found a passage towards the back.
Before the world was divided the gods walked the earth as men do now. Their rulers were the Laen and their guards the Rakos. The fiery Rakos governed change and the gods lived under the teaching of whatever element each represented. The Laen were different. They kept the balance of life and death, peace and war, chaos and order.
The gods were inquisitive and wanted more than what they had been given. They captured Lynel, the Laen's leader. They convinced her that even the Laen's rule had to pass, forcing her to split the world. With the world divided they did not have to live under the rule of either the Laen or the Rakos. Weakened by the rebellion's effect on the world's balance, the Laen could not fight the onslaught.
Alea stopped there. She had heard the tale a dozen times. It varied with each telling, as all legends did, but she had never heard a telling so sympathetic to the Laen. What side is even right? She stared out the window. The balance of nature is important, but could we have lived this long if it was damaged that badly? She flipped forward a few pages, ignoring the violence of the war that followed the Division. The war that has begun anew. Finally she found a passage, written towards the end.
Now, when the Division is centuries past, tales tell of another Laen. She will be more powerful than all before her, for she will be the embodiment of Creation and Destruction. She will be called the Dhoah' Laen for her dualistic nature. She will restore the world. Her power will cause wonder and sorrow, her touch will give relief and pain. Her love will bring life, but also death.
The words chilled Alea's bones. She had known the Laen to be austere, but even in a gods-supporting city, she had not been taught the ferocity detailed on the
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