Read Online The Legend of Asahiel: Book 02 - The Obsidian Key by Eldon Thompson - Free Book Online
Authors: Eldon Thompson
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Epic, Demonology, Kings and rulers, Quests (Expeditions)
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beard, giving him the stern and ruffled look of a great owl. “Like all others, they knew only what they were meant to know.”
“How can that be?” Marisha asked, coming to Torin’s defense. “Are they not avatars of the human race?”
“Self-proclaimed,” Darinor scoffed. “The true avatars were the Ha’Rasha. The Entients are descendent only, the progeny of those demimortals who bred with mortals and have been doing so for ages since. Each is more human than avatar, though together they have long played at being more than what they are.”
The truth hit Torin’s lungs like a ball of flaming pitch hurled through a ship’s sails—first piercing, then devouring. Although it made sense, it shocked him to have to relinquish such a long-standing belief.
“Still,” Marisha insisted, “they knew of the Sword, the Vandari, the Illysp—everything. How could they have forgotten?”
“First off, even by the standards of the Entients, this all took place roughly ten generations ago.”
“But older legends persist today,” Torin argued, cutting the other short. “Even among the mortal races, there would be myths, memorials, festivals of remembrance.”
“Second,” Darinor continued unabated, “no sooner had the war ended than the cover-up began. So terrible had been the struggle, so widespread the devastation, that the Finlorians elected to continue the exodus that most had already begun. Few cared to wager their lives against the odds of an Illysp escape. So the Vandari warded with magical snares the catacombs in which the sealed pit lay, then unleashed a series of earthquakes and landslides that buried the entire city. After that, they took flight with the rest of their people, leaving their ravaged lands to those who would emerge eventually from the high mountains or from deep within the earth—or later, from across the tempest seas.
“But even this was not enough. Algorath and the Vandari agreed that no one should learn what had happened, lest some fool brave the dangers set for him, unearth the seal, and draw the Sword, destroying the lock. So they changed the stories, misleading those who would pass the legend down to their descendants. Elven historians left formal records of a great and natural cataclysm of the earth. Bards and minstrels helped to spread this false word. Few knew the truth to begin with, and over the course of centuries, this revisionist history replaced that of actual events—even among those whose forebears had lived through it. Only the Vandari, along with Algorath, preserved the knowledge of what had really transpired, as a necessary safeguard should it ever happen again.”
“And what of the Entients?” Marisha reminded him. “Surely they kept records of their own.”
Darinor sneered. “For his betrayal, the Entients struck all records of Algorath’s existence. His studies remained, but in altered form, his deeds and learnings attributed to another. To hide the further embarrassment of having the Sword stolen from them, they modified their writs and journals in such a way as to obscure the fact that they ever actually possessed one of the talismans. Since Algorath had obtained the blade and brought it to the order, andhad also removed it again, it was easy enough to do this. All that was kept were general writings and images concerning its legendary powers and ancient history.
“There was of course some opposition,” Darinor proceeded, heading off Torin’s next question. “One among them, who had spent years studying the Sword with Algorath, decided to give chase, and was permitted to do so. It was agreed that if he retrieved the talisman, he would be allowed to return and take the place of Algorath in their records. If not, then he would be exiled and erased along with his former mentor. The rest would continue to devote their time and energies to matters of their own race and their own lands.”
Something wasn’t right, and Torin knew it. When he shook his
“How can that be?” Marisha asked, coming to Torin’s defense. “Are they not avatars of the human race?”
“Self-proclaimed,” Darinor scoffed. “The true avatars were the Ha’Rasha. The Entients are descendent only, the progeny of those demimortals who bred with mortals and have been doing so for ages since. Each is more human than avatar, though together they have long played at being more than what they are.”
The truth hit Torin’s lungs like a ball of flaming pitch hurled through a ship’s sails—first piercing, then devouring. Although it made sense, it shocked him to have to relinquish such a long-standing belief.
“Still,” Marisha insisted, “they knew of the Sword, the Vandari, the Illysp—everything. How could they have forgotten?”
“First off, even by the standards of the Entients, this all took place roughly ten generations ago.”
“But older legends persist today,” Torin argued, cutting the other short. “Even among the mortal races, there would be myths, memorials, festivals of remembrance.”
“Second,” Darinor continued unabated, “no sooner had the war ended than the cover-up began. So terrible had been the struggle, so widespread the devastation, that the Finlorians elected to continue the exodus that most had already begun. Few cared to wager their lives against the odds of an Illysp escape. So the Vandari warded with magical snares the catacombs in which the sealed pit lay, then unleashed a series of earthquakes and landslides that buried the entire city. After that, they took flight with the rest of their people, leaving their ravaged lands to those who would emerge eventually from the high mountains or from deep within the earth—or later, from across the tempest seas.
“But even this was not enough. Algorath and the Vandari agreed that no one should learn what had happened, lest some fool brave the dangers set for him, unearth the seal, and draw the Sword, destroying the lock. So they changed the stories, misleading those who would pass the legend down to their descendants. Elven historians left formal records of a great and natural cataclysm of the earth. Bards and minstrels helped to spread this false word. Few knew the truth to begin with, and over the course of centuries, this revisionist history replaced that of actual events—even among those whose forebears had lived through it. Only the Vandari, along with Algorath, preserved the knowledge of what had really transpired, as a necessary safeguard should it ever happen again.”
“And what of the Entients?” Marisha reminded him. “Surely they kept records of their own.”
Darinor sneered. “For his betrayal, the Entients struck all records of Algorath’s existence. His studies remained, but in altered form, his deeds and learnings attributed to another. To hide the further embarrassment of having the Sword stolen from them, they modified their writs and journals in such a way as to obscure the fact that they ever actually possessed one of the talismans. Since Algorath had obtained the blade and brought it to the order, andhad also removed it again, it was easy enough to do this. All that was kept were general writings and images concerning its legendary powers and ancient history.
“There was of course some opposition,” Darinor proceeded, heading off Torin’s next question. “One among them, who had spent years studying the Sword with Algorath, decided to give chase, and was permitted to do so. It was agreed that if he retrieved the talisman, he would be allowed to return and take the place of Algorath in their records. If not, then he would be exiled and erased along with his former mentor. The rest would continue to devote their time and energies to matters of their own race and their own lands.”
Something wasn’t right, and Torin knew it. When he shook his
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