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“Inherited freedom is no freedom at all. When freedom is never earned it is never had. When it is never had it is never lost. When it is never lost it is impossible to want, find, recover, and protect. Only those who have been oppressed intimately know the price of freedom, for they have paid for it in chains, in pain, and blood.”
Nachalu Pha-leun, Vagrant of The Enslaved, Wind-Cycle 1214
THE LEGEND OF THE THREE TRIBES
Long before the legend of Mother-Wind, there existed the three elven tribes. In the southern land of The Footlands, during The Age of Utter-Light, the elven legend, “Sons of Maluthene,” states that the elves were created with the Dark-Stone of the westernmost Black Islands of Martauk, the brine of southernmost Tharamind Sea, and the far eastern great leaf known as Rinadu.
Not soon after, Deralius and his master, The Black Chain, deceived the sons of Maluthene. Cloaked in the deceptive flesh of a mere mortal, Deralius, under the false name of “The Dark Brother,” revealed himself to them. After many signs and wonders to prove his deity, the “Sons of Stone” served him. The Dark Brother cut his left earlobe and made a blood-oath with them.
After their agreement, the power of The Black Chain, The Ever-Night, slowly slithered into the world of Zailar. These elves were just like our tribe in Thra Athar, yet after their blood-oath with Deralius, their skin turned into the color of a stormy overcast sky. From that day forward, the sons of Maluthene worshipped shadow and stone.
To commemorate their blood-oath with that vile Star-Slayer, a tradition was born. It became the sacred law of the land. Cutting the left ear-lobe of their firstborn son with the family Dark-Stone, the blood of each generation mingled with the next, becoming one.
One stone. One bloodline. Many scars… but one lord of them all.
They called themselves the “Red-Stone” tribe. These savage elves were empowered with strength, agility, and a will unbroken by conscience, as I have already stated to you, wayward traveler. After the breaking of The Ever-Morning and the end of the Age of Utter-Light, when shadows fell over our world, and the evil of Night crept into our lives, The Dark Brother revealed to them the arts of deception, blood-sacrifice, stone-craft, and shadow-craft.
With their stone-craft, they greedily plummeted into the depths of the mountains, finding the underworld. Unsatiated with mere rock and the cool of the shadow, the sons of Maluthene discovered gems of great magic and awesome power. Forging steel from rock, The Dark Brother taught them the art of war; thus, the first mortal sword was created.
With the counsel and power of The Dark Brother, the sons of Maluthene embarked on conquest. War was not even a word in the mouths of the first mortals, yet after Deralius lorded over the hearts of the “stone-elves,” after he spread the filth of his deep knowledge of shadow, not only did war become a settled word in my world but also death.
The evil of war began in The Footlands, thus even the earliest “Scrolls of Fergol” calls The Footlands the “Womb of War” and the “Cradle of Death.” It started with the tribe of Maluthene and his wild sons. Having six children, each more lawless and bloodthirsty than the last, they set out across the sea and into The Footlands.
They first came and attacked my people, the sea-elves of Thra Athar. I was but a child when they arrived. We did not know the sword yet but only the metal of the plow and the hook of the fisher. I remember their first raid on our coasts, for my father Yuedrol, my brother Yuedrin, and I were at sea, reeling in our latest catch.
My people are lovers of waves, the sand, and the cool of the ocean’s magical gales. You might have heard of The Close of Thra Athar, the once-famous fortress-city of the sea-elves, but this was far before that city was created. We were forced to delve deeply into the stone of our coasts and pay tribute to King Maluthene with our most precious gems and metals.
Don’t be fooled. We are not like the stone-elves, wayward traveler. We were without a god or goddess. As you might have guessed, the sons of Maluthene, attacked us. My father and brother left the boat to defend our family. I remember that cursed day clearly. My father told me to stay on the boat. I was but a child. I had to watch my father and brother die from a distance. My father was the first known being to perish by the sword in the world of Zailar. Maluthene killed him.
Enraged by the sight of their slaying, I shouted and gave away my position. The enemy saw me from afar and captured me. I became their slave. The unseen shackles of The Black Chain fell upon my kid-shoulders and my people. We had to join their cause or we would have died like my father and brother. In my heart, I swore revenge even as I mouthed allegiance to Maluthene and The Dark Brother.
They taught us the ways of war and the worship of their Shadow Gods. We perfected the skill of the steel edge but our hearts steeled themselves against the filth of their worship. Eventually, after many years of subjugation, Maluthene declared himself the lord of a new and unified realm called Maluthra. Shortly after, with the help of our first sea-elf armies, Maluthene deposed Rinam, lord of the leaf-elves, which would be later known as the realm of Rinaduah.
Maluthene declared himself the High King of a unified Maluthra and spread the flames of war across The Footlands. Many years passed. Kingdoms arose and fell. A brittle peace between the stone-elves and sea-elves appeared to hold for a brief time, until I, Yuedhra Ever-Wind, dared to dream the dream of the chainless.
This is my account of what I saw…
THE ANSWER
The sound of countless axes cracking against splintered stone filled the depths of the caves of my beloved Thra Athar. That cursed familiar sound of slavery was the norm when Maluthene lorded over us. Freedom receded like the sands in a strong tide.
Phlegm-ridden stone-elf voices barked orders at us day and night. By that time we had lost the will to fight back. They did not need whips to keep us in line. They left the bones of our slain family members on the shores of the sea as a reminder of their brutality. I began the tradition of placing fishnets studded with gemstones upon the bones of family members during those days. I wanted to protect them from the elements.
The stone-elves were not fond of my gesture. I was thrown in jail and beaten nearly to death. The soldiers of Maluthra said I was inciting insurrection against King Maluthene. I was. I refused to let them erode our culture even after conquering us. Proclamations were read. New laws. The king decreed that no one may place any gems or fishnets on the remains of their family members. They even set a watch over the very bones of those whom they killed to ensure that we did not properly mourn our dead.
The collective spirit of our people was broken. We were once a beautiful elven tribe… proud and strong as the mighty waves of our glorious sea. For many hundreds of years, we lived free as the wind. Known across The Footlands as the “Lords of The Brine,” my people, the Urhund, were respected as much as we were feared.
We were craftsmen of the sea, constructing the greatest boats and ships ever seen. For a time, the human realms of Learri, Anh, the Krael, and even Heanruih sent their most gifted artisans to learn our shipbuilding ways.
Even our stone-crafters were the envy of The Footlands. The world marveled at the beauty of our ancient statues; sculptures of vanquished deep-sea creatures skilfully carved upon our trademark white massif hanging over our shores. When speaking of the skill of the Urhund, The Chronicles of Zeregun stated, “They have the power to resurrect the dead, making stone come to life with a chisel, a hammer, and a mind as free as a gale.”
When the sons of Maluthene ravaged our lands, we were reduced to soulless serfs of servitude. Regrettably, I even fought in several wars for them, but when I returned and discovered they were using my people as slaves to mine our gems and rape our daughters, that is when I could no longer fight for them. How could anyone enrich a lord who did not even let his subjects mourn their own dead?
While I waited for my public execution for my crimes against the onyx crown of Maluthene, I pondered ending it right there. Why would I give them the pleasure of killing me in front of my people? I refused to be the spectacle they planned. I sharpened the rusty edge of a nail and was ready to thrust it into my heart when suddenly, King Maluthene himself appeared in my dungeon cell. I can still hear his heavy footsteps pounding on the wet and cold stone floor leading to my cell…
“Who are you,” asked King Maluthene. He adjusted his onyx crown and cinched his intricately woven golden belt around his waist. His long and braided blonde hair was embellished with shiny garnets and a golden hairpin; a perfect portrait of opulence.
My silence caused him to ask anew, “And why do you dare incite rebellion? Have we not shown you mercy? We have allowed you to exist, have we not? Your people are breathing by my grace. We gave you a purpose, taught you how to defend yourself, and even invited you to raid with us. We even conquered the leaf-elves together. We taught you how to mine gems in your caves… how to extract stone from steel and steel from stone… and yet this is how you thank my benevolence? By using the precious gems I helped your people find, and wasting them on the past?”
I squeezed the rusty nail in my hand and bit my lip, “That past had a name. It was my father Yuedrol, and brother Yuedrin, lord king.”
Stepping closer to me, he examined me with a slanted look; half disgust and half pity, “He who acts first acts last. The retaliator can only do so if he lives past my first step. Your father and brother did not. That is war. We invented it. Our rules. Our board. Our game. Be glad that you are a pawn.”
"One life is worth more than all the gems in the underworld. One soul is worth more than the entire world of Zailar, lord king.”
King Maluthene chuckled, “The wisdom of a slave. How moving. Tell me, Mr. No-Name fisher-elf. Before we came to your shores, your kind were nothing. No one knew who you were. Your names were not recorded in the scrolls of the great. I made you who you are. Your people are now associated with greatness. My bloodline has made that possible. The name of the Urhund tribe is now known and feared by the realms of men. We have fought against our kind for long enough. Now we shall take hold of the entire Footlands. We need your cooperation to do so. All I ask is that you stop this nonsense you’ve started. You and your people need to know their place and know it well before I lose my patience and make these shores a coast of ghosts.”
The more this arse-monger spewed his tripe, the more I desired his end over mine. My hold on the rusty nail tightened. Hot words bubbled in my heart until he interrupted.
“Do you know why I’ve not killed off your people?” said King Maluthene. “Because you are elves. We are kin, whether you like it or not. I want to share this lordship with your people and the leaf-elves. They’re cooperating wonderfully. Your people have been doing their part, but now I hear you’re desecrating my gems with the bones of the weak. Are you going to force me to kill you?”
I smiled at him, “Your gems. Yours? You kill our people and steal our resources and call it mercy? With all due respect, lord king, you have lost the plot. Killing me is a kindness I welcome. You’d be sending me back to my father and brother that you and your snot-nosed sons stole from me.”
He spat into my cell, leaning in, gripping the iron bars, “I gave you mercy but you want my ‘kindness.’ You shall have it. Tomorrow you shall be executed in front of the entire Urhund assembly, Mr. No-Name Fisher. I was considering letting you free. Instead, you will be just another collection of charred bones on your shores.”
The king lithely stepped away but I could not end our conversation like that…“You’re not a king,” I said. “You’re a slave to The Dark Brother.”
He lunged forward, screaming, “What do you know of the Shadow Gods! Nothing! I fought with The Dark Brother at the Battle of The Black Islands! I was there and beheld his power! I saw him when he passed from this world unto the next! He entrusted me to lead the stone-elves to glory! And that I have done! You are just a lowly fisher with no name and no fame. Tomorrow you will die as you have lived… not merely forgotten because that implies you did something worthy of remembrance. You haven’t. Your name will not be written in the scrolls of the great because you have no name, cur! Enjoy the day. It will be your last one.”
“Shh!!!” I shouted to the king with an animated gaze. “Do you hear that?”
The king looked around, inclining his ear.
Silence.
“That’s the sound of his chains over your bloodline!” I shouted. “Wear a crown! Don your garish robes all you want but you will always be a slave to him!”
The king lunged forward and shouted, “You dare speak to me with such contempt! Who are you?”
And then it happened… my moment… I answered his question with a rusty nail in his heart.
Guards rushed in and beat me senseless.
I awoke the next day tied to a stake and the assembly of the entire Urhund tribe surrounding me.
It was my execution.
THE FLAME
Atop the white massif overlooking the sea, the assembly of Urhund tribesman numbered in the thousands. All were present to see my death. I would be the loud example that the sons of Maluthene needed to stop the stubborn smoke of rebellion that followed my assassination of their father.
Uprisings were common but were usually swiftly squelched by the many spies embedded in our ranks. This time it was not a small sect of people looking to overthrow the king. Before I killed him, many prisoners heard Maluthene’s words. He called for our extermination. His flippant words to me in that cell lit a fire inside all of us.
I became a symbol of the insurgency for I was the latest and greatest rebel raging against Maluthra. I simply wanted to honor my father and brother and because of that, word spread of my simple deed throughout the caves of Thra Athar.
The fire of revolution was burning in the hearts of the assembly on that day. My father was greatly respected. He was one of the first twelve elders from the Amonaki Convention, the founding justices of the tribe of the Urhund. His death wounded our people but my death would awaken them.
I would be sentenced to death by fire. They could have simply dropped a torch in front of me and let the coals do their work but Maluthene’s scoundrel sons wanted a spectacle.
Dherluth “The Quiet” took over his father’s throne as the new High King of Maluthra. He had a severe throat disease which caused him to lose his voice when he was but a child. His herald was his voice.
Dherluth spoke softly into the ear of his herald, who then shouted aloud with a strong voice…
“Here ye! Here ye!” The hum of chatter died down into complete silence. “We are gathered today for the execution of the rebel Yuedhra Ever-Wind. He has killed the High King of Maluthra, Lord Maluthene!”
Gasps filled the air but also some shouts of joy.
Dherluth is appalled by their celebration, whispering into the herald’s ear once again.
The herald conveyed the new king’s words, “Anyone who applauds the death of my father will join this wretched rebel in the fire!”
Hundreds of fists balled together nearly at once. The coldness of anger arose in the silence. The herald listened and spoke again, “For his crimes of sedition and murder he will be burned to death in front of the assembly. In addition, from this point forward, any sea-elf that adorns the bones of the dead with jewels of any kind will also join Mr. Ever-Wind in the fire.”
I stood there, tied to the stake by my hands and feet, with broken ribs, and breath barely in my body from the beatings I was given the entire night.
The new king whispered his last command to the herald.
“And now… roast the rebel!” announced the herald.
From a far distance, a stone-elf archer lit an arrow in flame and pointed it to the coals underneath me. With a simple nod from King Dherluth, my life was going to end with an expert archer’s nock.
As the arrow’s path of flight in the air began, I saw my beginning… the day of my birth, the love of my mother, the fishing lessons from my father, and even the scuffles with my brother. My fiery flying executioner drew closer in midair and suddenly I saw the day I met my wife, the birth of my first child, and the wars against the leaf-elves.
In the final stretch of the arrow’s descending destination, those final revolutions became my final revolution. I saw myself placing the gems of my father and brother on their remains… and then the sweet vengeance of killing their murderer by my own hands. I saw my father and brother waiting for me in the afterlife, beyond the gray wall of water, in The Great Wave that all sea-elves enter upon death.
I was ready. The fire would usher me into the eternal sea I had desired for far too long. The fire spread on the coals at my feet. The heat leaped up the wooden stake to my toes… the pain began but suddenly a floating ring of white fire opened up before me. A powerful gale flowed out of the magical spinning portal, killing the flame at my feet. Inside, I saw a beautiful human woman with brilliant white hair. She was donned in dirty clothes and locked in the cell of a dark dungeon. She looked at me in amazement and strode toward me. I saw many universes in her eyes. The sadness of a million years was bottled in her mortal heart. Just as she reached out to touch me, the portal closed.
A stunned silence settled over the assembly. The portal had saved my life and defied the orders of a king. One shout became many. Suddenly, knives, swords, and axes flew in the morning skies. Stone-elf soldiers were overwhelmed by the sea-elf assembly. King Dherluth The Quiet scurried away with his protectorate. After many deaths and spilled blood, I was set free from the stake.
My cousin, Hanatheth, raised his sword as the stone-elf occupying force fled in their ships back to the west. We had overthrown our masters and my deeds and the deeds of my cousin became the flame that lit the beacon of our newfound freedom. We celebrated with many revels but we knew to not bend the elbow too much with wine for we knew that Dherluth and his armies would return, and this time with a larger force than ever before.
While I mended from the wounds of imprisonment and torture, I wondered who was the mortal in the portal that had saved my life and freed our people. Was she a witch? A goddess? I had to find out. Searching the ancient scrolls of my father, Yuedrol, I found a prophecy from long ago.
“When The Wind snuffs the flame, The Raven comes to claim. When The Flame shines, she will save The Lords of The Brine.”
Yuedrol Ever-Wind, The Omen of Gale, Wind-Cycle 735
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