Finishing A History Lesson

Sentinel - Haven
JP with Omni and Lorem

“Aye, the Ether, the source of all magik. Those who are touched by it, born with its power, are known to us as Etherin. Yet by the Helians, they are called weavers, witches, and sorcerers... maleficium… Thy kind, ye Vaux, from the Etherin bore mistrust for thine nullifying arts…” Ilyra said as she grabbed the cup from Ylja and took a sip.

“Which doth appear weak within thee,” Draza interjected.

“Etetet!” The older woman waved away Draza’s discouraging words. “Many did view ye Vaux with a fearful eye, or worse, with disdain. Regardless, it eventually came to pass that they didst become mediators on yon borderlands, where realms lacked such great cities of magik and the faithful feared the Etherin… For no regulation held against magik, and oft it could spiral into chaos dire… Such is the way of meddling unabated with Wild Magik.”

Gonyaul didn’t respond to Draza; however, her comment was a well placed reminder of how little he was in the great big world beyond the sheltered and protective canopy of his jungle home. He had been measured many times and always found wanting. It would make sense that he was weak, when had it been otherwise when judged by the world’s tests.

The world, no, apparently THIS world. A glimmer of hope sparked inside his thinking. Perhaps in this world he was weak, but maybe the world they came from he was strong? Perhaps the ways that made sense to him, but were foolish in the eyes of most here, were considered wise there?

“Ether sounds like the balancing agency to kagim; chaos and order.” He pondered out-loud. Gonyaul was getting lost in the distraction of rewriting his entire past through what he was now learning.

"Kagim?” She searched her rusty Helian and Vauxian lexicon. “Ne'er have I heard such term, but magik, verily, is chaos unbound. Yet, 'tis the Etherin who weave its threads into order. This, the faithful cannot perceive, or mayhap, doth refuse to acknowledge. One hundred seventy-five years hence, Etherin King Torkaus, of the great city-state Murontomaga, decreed a genocidal purge, to wipe thy Vaux from the face of Averthyris… uhhh…” she searched for the word for the world in Vauxian.

“Ustihc??? Odnas??? We don’t know what you call it…” The words didn’t translate well to Gonyaul. In Alossi, Averthyris was the name for the world, which meant life-gate, and this translated to something like birth canal or vagina.

Her comment shocked him enough to stop his daydreaming. Gonyaul’s attention returned back to them like a hound finding the scent trail of its quarry. He chuckled, “We do not call all this the-gate-between-a woman’s-legs. We call it Niazed Ihsarabus … I think in common it translates to something similar to the great design.”

Gonyaul was enjoying this conversation, it wasn’t everyday you got to talk about such complex topics. It was commonplace back in his tree village, but less common in other places he had been.

He saw a window to share what he knew. “Kagim is like …” Gonyaul always had to collect his thoughts when trying to explain it because it didn’t translate so easily; language didn’t quite define it. “It is like order. The design of creation was good, and it is the way things are supposed to work. Both individually and together. When the kagim flows than things are as they should be and truth and meaning is made manifest. My kagim is generosity, for example. And when I am generous then the true order of what is good and right is made real.”

He realized he conflated the global kagim with his individual one, which was a major oversimplification, but he thought it would help his explanation.

“Indeed… this kagim doth seem akin to fate, yet the Etherin, through their will and mastery of magik, doth bend fate of the world and create their own destiny. But prithee, let me return to the tale.” she took another sip from her water, this one longer.

“Thus were the Vaux hunted by Torkaus’ jihadists. Not by the Allosi's hands, still they bore the penalty nonetheless. Conflicts brewed betwixt the Etherin and those of the outer lands. Alliances were forged 'twixt the fervor of Mizar’s Pillars and the steel-clad might of Salos, the Vaux, and lesser realms, Torja and Garrah. Thus was the Inquisition formed.

Salos harbored ambitious intent to expand its borders, coveting to annex land from the central realms of Medagris and become an empire. The Mizarans… they ever abhorred the use of magic, deemed it vile, abominable, ‘twas first the presence of dark mages in the east, dwelling on fringes, which the Mizarans, took great umbrage with, and sought to quell. Great battles of sword and sorcery were fought.

After King Pritus wreaked havoc with his fiery tempest upon those marching in the fields and besieging Allos. Mine ancestors who had once unleashed horrors upon their enemies, didst flee their home… and shipwrecked here on this island… bringing their self-wrought doom, the ancient one, the dread entity known as Y’Ghotan the Flame Shard. A daemon he is, summoned forth from the Void.

We cannot undo the past… nay. But perhaps we can atone. Here have we lived since, our days hard with the constant need to keep the ancient one at bay. They is where my history lesson ends for now. Tell us what happened to your people. You spoke as if you feared your Arbiter lover and the Inquisition, yet your kin in ages past joined them in arms against mine. Can you explain?”