[MFaughn]: 311.The Black Waters

The Black Waters

“The most difficult thing about conquering a land is keeping it conquered.” It was a tenet that he knew well. He stood atop the battlements gazing across the Cibollan plain, over the encampment of his army, over the trampled fields and barren pastures. Cibol was destroyed, had no army, no force with which to challenge his dominion, and yet an uneasiness plagued him, worried at his thoughts. No, the war is over, all that remains is the suffering of a defeated people. Enrick Draconic commanded a force that would sweep across the world, and in the end he knew the uneasiness would remain. He was perhaps the most powerful warrior in the known world, adept with a variety of weapons and as strong as any three men. During his youth he had served as his own Champion, fighting the duels that made him Warlord of the most violent people ever born. Warlord of a nation of warriors, the most hate filled man in a land filled with hate, and he reveled in the power, in the fear that others felt when he was near. He was born to be Warlord of the Rae-Gaethan nation, it was his fate to lead. He would lead, but he would not rule. Rae-Gaetha was ruled by only one and that one was beyond conquering, beyond Enrick’s power, skill or strength. Shaevron. The Deathless. Enrick served him with a passion and devotion that surprised even himself. None could ever stand above Shaevron the Deathless, no other would ever rule the Rae-Gaetha. Enrick’s thoughts drifted, wandered over the legends, the tales he had been told as a child, the truths he had seen that confirmed the legends in his mind, could hear the priests dry voice as old Corma the idealist told again the tale of the birth of the Rae-Gaetha.

“The people of the old world were all different, not like we are, not one as the Rae-Gaethans are today. There were many peoples and they all moved across the world, all seeking a place that they could live in peace. War tore the tribes apart, hatred burned in them and they fought and killed each other where ever they met. After a time, some united together, formed a nation and settled in the fertile lands around two great inland seas. Their skin was dark and their eyes were darkly bright and they lived together in these lands for many years. These were the Arani, primitive and warlike but with a code of battle that prevented wanton destruction and killing. The counted honors for feats of daring, not for how many they have killed or how much they had destroyed. They were much like us in this and it is believed that our own laws and standards of challenge come down from those days.

“Now it came to pass that another people wandered into the lands of the Arani, and they were fierce, a warrior race that had no knowledge or understanding of the ways of the Arani. These new people, the Andorrans, slew many Arani and claimed much of the land for their own. The Arani moved east and north and lived apart, avoiding the savage Andorrans. The new people grew fat on the bounty of the land, hoarded its treasures and mostly they lived on the northern shores of the great seas where most of the Arani had lived before them. In time the Andorrans grew peaceful and began to trade with the Arani. Before long they learned many things that they had not known before and they settled into a civilized life, though they still fought among themselves from time to time, or against the Arani. The Andorrans were much like we are in that they would fight for the smallest of reasons, and it is believed that our warlike nature comes down from those days.

“After many years yet another people cam to the Great Inland seas, but they came to the southern shores and settled heavily there. The southern lands are less fertile than the north, less forgiving, forcing a man to become fierce in his ways. The Rovarrans were a fierce people for a fierce land and yet they saw the bounty to be had on the other side of the seas and coveted those lands. A great force swept around the Storm Sea to the west, pushing the Andorrans back as they had pushed had pushed the Arani years before. But the bounty that had nurtured the Andorrans had made them strong and they gathered together an army larger than any that had ever been seen. The war that raged around the Great Seas was terrible in its cost, for both sides. Thousands were slaughtered in battles that myth and legend barely remember, and in the end the peoples settled into lands that marked the separation between them. Andorran to the north and Rovarran to the south and the war continued on with little peace between them for many years.

“The Rovarran were a swarthy people, darkened by the harsh southern sun, but had secret and unknown powers. They could talk to spirits and command them, bring legions of the dead to life and send them against the enemy or conjure a deadly plague to spread among the Andorran people. There was such power among the Rovarran that they could not be defeated by the Andorrans, and yet they could not conquer the enemy either, for the power was tied to the lands where they lived. The farther they moved from their homes the less power they could manage and so the Magi could not go among the enemy and deliver their terrible spells. So they stayed near their homes and practiced their arts and kept secret the how and the where of it. In this they were much like we are today and it is believed that our ties to this land and the magic that is inherent in us comes down from those days.”

Enrick shook the memory off, could not allow himself to see these hated people as kindred. “We are so different”, he thought, “It cannot be true. The old man was just repeating myths, legends.” The idea that the Rae-Gaethan were descended from the people’s of the Inland Seas was beyond Enrick’s understanding. The story of how it came to pass was unbelievable.

“During the great wars which rages between the Andorrans and the Rovarrans, the Arani became divided, some siding with the Andorrans, some with the Rovarrans, and still others who would take no side. And in time the peaceful ones were sought by people from the other races, all who were tired of fighting and war, or who feared that in theend all would be destroyed. These were all people who wanted no part of the wars, and they moved apart, living together, Arani, Andorran and Rovarran, in peace.

After many years, the leaders of this peaceful group saw that their kin in each nation would eventually destroy themselves and so they set out to end the wars and make peace among the people of the world. At first they were tolerated, preaching the truth as they knew it and gathered many followers. But it could not last, the warlike races began to kill the peaceful ones where ever they were found. A great hatred of the peaceful ones grew in the hearts of the warlike peoples and they attacked them, driving them from their homes, killing many, and enslaving others. Those that were not killed or enslaved were offered a land to live in, all their own. They were sent to the harsh northlands, across the Starshade Mountains and into the bitter and unknown lands where there stood a single lake of pure and life sustaining water. The people wandered for many days before they found the lake, many dying along the way. There was little food to be found, game was scarce, the plants bitter. The lake stood, still and serene among the wastelands of the north, unknown and undiscovered, waiting to offer its succor to these suffering people.

“The people drank from the waters of the lake, and their hunger vanished and they were strong again. For many lives of men they lived on the shores of the lake, drinking its waters and needing no food to sustain the life in them. It was a wonder, a gift from the heavens to these peaceful people. Babes were born and bathed in the waters, drank and grew, and in time had children of their own down through many generations. In time the people began to notice a change, but it was slow and did not cause fear, but rather joy. The waters imbued the people with powers, magic's which allowed them to improve their lives and increased their happiness. There were always those among the people whose powers were much greater than usual, men of great magical skill, and they formed a society among themselves, a guild of magi where they studied the effects of the waters and of the magic and their power increased by the knowledge they gained. The people revered the magi, and over time the magi began to exert their power and they ruled the people in peace and harmony.


“Now it came to be that one was born among the people whose birth was signaled by the fates, and his power was greater than any that had been known before. He ascended to the highest position among the magi at an early age and he studied the power of the waters with a deep understanding and he learned more of the water than any other had ever done. He gained the power to extend his life, and lived long, seeing three lives of men pass among the people before he began to show signs of age. He was sure that he would live forever, that his knowledge of the waters would allow him to manipulate magic’s to sustain his life for all time. But Shaevron was wrong, and when age began to show he closeted himself away, and would do nothing but study and practice magic and he remained at this for many years.

“One year there was a celebration, a great festival to commemorate the coming of the people to the shores of the lake. It was customary for the magi to grant spells to petitioners during the celebration, and for Shaevron to speak before the great assembly of the people from the highest tower of the magi. This tower stood right upon the shore of the lake, and there was a platform which was over the water, over a deep pool which contained a great amount of power. Many times the people had seen Shaevron standing alone on the platform, working spells which made the water do wondrous things. Now, Shaevron stood there again, and he invoked the power of the lake, and began to chant a spell which was unknown to any other. He chanted all through the day and the people did not move, but listened, entralled by the power of the spell. All through the next night Shaevron chanted, and the people remained, listening to each word and did not understand. Dawn broke over the lake and still he chanted and the people were lost in the spell. Dusk came again and he chanted on, and the people did not know that they were part of it, no longer able to separate themselves from it. The third day dawned and he chanted, the people locked to his will. The third night fell and he chanted, and the people were his, no longer were they individuals with thoughts of their own. All through that night he twisted the spell, gathering the powers of all the people to his will, using them and weaving them into one great force.

“As the Dawn was about to break to end the third night, Shaevron’s spell reverberated across the land, and the once still waters swelled and rose in great waves crashing against the tower and sweeping some of the people away into the depths one or two at a time. Shaevron raised a blade, a special dagger, quenched many times in the waters of the lake under great spells, a project that had taken twenty years to complete. The blade hung in the air, Shaevron’s arm rigid as the power of the spell bathed over him. Then as the very first light winked over the horizon, to touch the waters of the lake, the dagger plunged, striking into the chest of Shaevron, piercing his heart, and he fell, plummeting toward the water. As he hit the surface and was swallowed up, the spell broke. The people, enthralled for three days and nights fell to the ground and slept.

“When the people awoke they saw with horror that they had been changed, were twisted versions of humanity, and they writhed in pain. They all felt a great hunger, such as they had never known, but they now feared the water, for they knew that it was that great power that had caused this change. They suffered there for a full day, yearning for the water but afraid to drink, and they knew that their end was near. Some began to remember what had happened, the spell that had been cast, the self sacrifice of Shaevron and they wondered at that. Why had he committed that act after such immense power was at his disposal, what purpose had it served? As night fell the answer was given.

“Shaevron stood again on the tower, and he spoke to the people and the power of his voice soothed their pains. He told them that they must drink of the water, that those who did not would perish, but they were still afraid and would not. He ordered them to drink the water, and they would not. Finally, he chanted a spell, and the water rose, crashing in a great wave over the people and they were relieved of all pains, and they drank.

“But, the water tasted foul, where before it was pure, and they choked on the bitterness of it, but could not stop from drinking more. They drank, they glutted themselves on it. They could not get enough. They wondered at this after a time, but could not stop. As they drank Shaevron laughed. Never again would the people be free of their need for the water, never would they be able to live in some place other than where they were now, for they could not live without the water. Some tried, as time went by, many perished when they tried to leave the water behind. Shaevron now had a power that blended with the water’s, and he could control it, take away its life giving potency at his will, could force the people to follow him, to worship him by his power over the lake.”

Enrick’s memory flooded through him. The tale had always fascinated him as a youth and he had begged old Corma to tell it many times. As he had grown he had lost interest in such myths, preferring the reality of blade and blood. But now he saw these people, this conquered land and somewhere deep inside himself he felt it tug at him, the myth, the legend. These vanquished enemies were the hated foe, a race that treated his own with such barbarism and butchery. When the Rae-Gaethan had come over the mountains again, they had reached inhabited lands and had seen fear in the eyes of the people there. Goblins they were called, monsters, demons. “Yes, we are all those things,” he thought, “but we are much more.” Every warrior carried a bottle of the water, this much of the legends were true enough. Great wains brought more of it every day. “If these people here only understood. One strong force could destroy this army by simply denying the water supplies a route. Fools.”

The water supplies were Enrick’s greatest worry, and that worry was not likely to end. The Rae-Gaethans had to have it, though luckily they could survive a long time on very small quantities, something Shaevron had taught them, so that they might serve his purposes better. Now it was possible for this army to cross the mountains and conquer distant lands. And now they had.