Chapter 9: Concerning the Great War
During the years, elves and men fought along side one another in the struggle against Sanguinar. After a time, both sides had become so weak that the battles resembled small skirmishes. Sanguinar became so desperate as to enlist his own elves, so that in one of the battles, the Zargolian elves realized that they were fighting their friends. This was also one of the battles where men had joined the Zargolian elves so that men became confused and did not know which elves were their allies and which their foes. After this battle, the Zargolian elves and men decided that this war would have to be ended. They sent messengers to the dwarves, asking for their help, and they addressed the gods, asking for their strength. They noticed that Sanguinar was gathering all his forces as well. After much hesitation, the dwarves agreed to help the men, saying that they would attack the Warriors from another side.
Elf, man, wizard, dwarf, and warrior, marched to battle knowing it to be the last and defining one in Lataria’s first war. During this struggle, just when the four allies thought they would perish, a young fighter full of energy and light inspired them to continue fighting. This boy, scarcely a man, slew warriors all around him, and still managed to make eye contact with a number of soldiers. In this those soldiers who saw him gained strength and courage from his fearlessness. Even the leader of the elves thought that he could gain courage from this boy, until he saw this young fighter come to Sanguinar.
When Sanguinar and the boy faced each other, everyone on the field felt that time had slowed, if not halted altogether. Those around them wanted to know how this fight would end, although many guessed that Sanguinar would completely destroy the boy, leaving not even his sword or hauberk behind for them to remember him. Sanguinar towered above the boy, fair and beautiful—almost someone no one would dare hurt. The boy, who before had looked almost godly, now appeared dirty and his dark skin contrasted with the pale, clean, light glow of Sanguinar.
The two met each other in a struggle. Weapons broke with only one strike so that they soon had no more weapons with which to fight. Instead of wrestling, or seeing Sanguinar use his power to kill the boy, a fiery spear appeared in Sanguinar’s hands. He laughed, flashing the spear about like a lightning stroke. “A mere boy might have been able to fight my warriors. But I am Sanguinar, god of power—you can’t fight against me and keep your life.”
The boy, standing still and not trembling a bit, answered, “You may be the god of power, Sanguinar. But you don’t know who you are fighting against. I have the power—that is stronger than you—of Truth, which includes fearlessness.” Here, the boy stepped forward, grabbed the blade of the fiery spear, and created his own spear out of Sanguinar’s. “Therefore, I will fight you, and I will not let you win.”
When the boy created his own fiery spear, those observing him realized that he had special powers, but from where—they did not know. This time, when Sanguinar and the boy fought, their weapons did not break, but caused such loud snaps that those closest to them either had to cover their ears, or become deaf. Such sparks issued forth from the clashing of the spears that fires blazed up around them, circling them in a ring. They fought like this for a long time before the boy found a way to injure Sanguinar. By breaking his spear in half, he used the one piece to block Sanguinar while he drove the other piece into his elf body. Sanguinar’s body, after writhing in pain, vanished. Nothing of him was left—not even the clothing.
For the elves, seeing Sanguinar act this way astounded them. They had always thought that he was just an elf a little more powerful than the others. But to see him disappear when he should have died and his body remain, mystified them. They immediately suspected that he was not an elf at all, but some other being. They had heard his claim to being a god, but they doubted that claim, especially since he had spent so much time with them in elven form. The elves then looked at the boy, and, thinking him familiar, remembered Arrod—the young elf who had led them into Zargol. One of the elves asked, “Aarod, is that you?”
The boy nodded, “It is I. You needed my help once again, so I have come to you.”
Then another elf exclaimed: “But you’re not Aarod! You’re Aadelawen. How came you to appear as a boy?”
“As I told you before: You have learned to listen to and follow the great, but you will learn to heed those most unlikely to fit your purposes. For, what strength and skill does a boy have that can aid in defeating Sanguinar?” The elves stared at him, awestruck by Aadelawen’s presence, and by the fact that he had, for the time being, sent Sanguinar away. The leader of the Zargolian elves approached the boy who leaned on the spear. “Was he really given over to power then? To magic?”
The boy, with dark, knowing eyes, answered. “No. He is Power himself. Sanguinar is the god of power—that was how he had such a hold over people.”
The leader of elves was outraged and went to grab the boy, but instead drew back a few paces before shouting “Why didn’t you tell us before? We asked you before to tell us the truth about Sanguinar, but you didn’t. If we had known that he was a god earlier we would have been able to prevent some of this from happening.”
“Would you?” The boy asked. “If I had told you when you asked me, you would have confronted Sanguinar and he would have found out that the other gods have grown without him. If I had told you earlier, things would have turned out much worse than they have already. Besides, I give the truth—not knowledge—there is a difference.”
Nouhues answered, “Well then, Truth, is it true that you killed Sanguinar? We saw you strike him.”
Aarod shook his head, “No. He is not dead. It is nearly impossible to kill a god—I merely killed his physical being, but because he is a spirit, his spirit is not affected by the physical boundaries of Lataria. He is not dead—he will have to remain in his spirit form for some time, but he will return.”
The soldiers, standing around their leader and Aarod, had sullen faces—even though they should have been joyful because Sanguinar would not bother them for a time, they were not. Indeed, they acted as if a major part of the war against Sanguinar had not been completed, but that it would begin soon. Leaving silently—in honor of the dead, the dying, and the nature of their tasks in this war—the elves returned to their camps. Aarod left them as he had done once before—he was no longer needed physically.
For a good time, the elves put away the threat of Sanguinar’s return, while they tended to the wounded. Once all the living beings had been cleared from the battlefield of sand and crusted earth, a loud noise echoed from everywhere at once. The earth trembled, yet nothing seemed to be splitting or cracking. The elves did not know what to make of this noise. Suddenly it seemed that the loud crashing booms originated to their left—from the north. They could see the blue sky; however, it soon appeared to be moving. They realized that it was water. Great, enormous waves tumbled and crashed over one another, racing toward them and in the process burying the desert and the dead. To the elves, the men, and the dwarves who had participated in this battle—on both sides—this natural catastrophe was nature’s way of burying the dead.