Chapter I :
The Very Beginning
The Queen's Words
'You are the cause of everything; of that which has passed, of that which now is, and of that which must soon come to be.
'Look to the world, my son, and see with what regularity it conducts itself. See how futile would be the craft of the mariner if the waters on which he sailed had not a fixed law. And how vain would be the trade of the smith, if his iron could say of a sudden, "This day, I shall not melt, though your fire be ever so hot."
'You also, my son, are ruled by such laws. Yet it remains true nonetheless that it is by you that all the stars of heaven are given their light.
'What? Do you not believe me? You, my son, are like a leaping flame, springing to life when at once there is the right heat, fuel and air. When these are present, so is the fire, and when they are not, the fire is not. Tell me, my son, is it not so, that you are the fire, kindled of your parents' love? Take away your father, my son, and where would you be? You would be as the fire, when the logs are removed from the hearth. Remove your mother, and will you not be as the flame that has been covered with a cloth, or doused with cold water?
'You see my son, if all that has been remains as it was, you must be born, for the world is ruled by laws, and as surely as the flame leaps up when the wood is hot and the air is flowing, even so do you rise as it were from the passion of your fathers and their forefathers before them.
'Take away any one of them and the whole is upset and undone, resembling not at all what it had hitherto been. So it is true, you see, that if you had not been born, then your father and your mother must have had lives different from what they had. But how can we, who are ruled by laws, have lives different from what we have been caused to have by our own parents?
'If the world had been different, then different causes must be employed; would you expect that one might change the cause of the world without changing what that cause hath wrought? So that one cause, which brought forth sun and stars, moon an earth, to make a world different from that wherein you must be born, must have been different also. And if that cause be different, my son, do you not now understand that the sun and stars must have been different also?
'The stars, my dear Pelas, the stars as they shine have you as their cause; you are the link in every chain that makes the world that which it is, and without which nothing would be as it is. Change yourself, my son, and watch the world change with you; change the world, my son, and you will be changed also. You are connected to everything; you and all are one.'
Thus spoke a doting mother to her favorite son in the ancient world of Bel Albor. But even as the words left her lips, the fate of her own realm was sealed, and there remained nothing more that any man could do to prevent that which would eventually fall upon the kingdoms of the North. For her words were imbibed by her young child's eager ears, and they were not without effect.
Pelas Parganascon was the youngest of two twins, both sons of Lord Parganas, who had by many wars made himself lord of a great realm. Despite their common parents, and despite the usual way of twins, Pelas and Agonas could not have been more different from one another. Pelas had a smooth and clear complexion, soft hands and a kind face.
Agonas, his brother, was dark and rough, with eyes of fire and a sharp brow. These differences proved to have a profound impact upon the opinions of those around them, manifesting themselves in the form of many inequities. If Pelas was called wise, his brother, for the same accomplishment, was called cunning, or crafty. If Pelas was called strong, his brother was called mighty or fierce. If Pelas was called beautiful or noble, his brother was called dashing or handsome, and so on and so forth. The Queen, Lady Aedanla, could scarcely look her elder son in the eye, and was very often plainly indifferent to him. But Pelas she adored; and she tutored him herself, though she sent Agonas to the schoolmasters for his education.
On the other hand, the King, Lord Parganas, considered Pelas to be 'almost a daughter', disdaining his gentleness and quiet spirit. In his eyes, it was the strong arms of Agonas the Elder that would some day bring great honor to his kingdom. Accordingly, he took Agonas aside and taught him to use the blade and spear personally, while Pelas learned from Maru, the Captain of the Guard in Parganas' army.
Despite all of this, the brothers remained close in spirit, and would take no part in their parents' quarrels. When they did quarrel it became clear that whether it was in strength of arms or in strength of wit they were twins through and through, neither having any advantage over the other. And so Pelas wished it always to be. For he noticed more of the inequities of the court than his brother, and wished them never to impinge upon their fraternal love.
Agonas, on the other hand, noticed the inequities only indirectly, and strove with great fury and passion to retain his position.
Pelas, not wishing to lose the balance they had enjoyed from their youth, in turn strove with great exertion to remain his brother's equal. More often than not this manifested itself in a deep comradery, and a jovial competitiveness. But on occasion, a shadow of their future as it were would reveal itself and blood would be drawn in contests that were meant for recreation.
There was a time, just as they neared their fourteenth birthday, that they fell into a rage and wrestled one with the other. Agonas held Pelas fast, and bent his arm so hard behind his back that Pelas shouted with agony and cursed his brother's name. When he was at last released from Agonas' grip, Pelas fell upon him with a fury, breaking his brother's nose with a strong blow with his fist.
King Parganas had Pelas beat with a rod, but at his mother's request, not so much as a mark was left upon his tender skin. As far as Agonas was concerned, Lady Aedanla said only that, 'it was not much of a nose before, and it cannot be much worse for having been broken.'
As these two brothers and all that they would do, both in their own era and in ours, can be considered the effects of those causes that preceded them, there is much that can be learned by considering those causes, even unto the very beginning of the world.
How the Old World was brought forth, and who the principle actors were in its foundation and its fall was merely hinted upon in that valuable though disjointed work, the War of Weldera, wherein the final judgment of those so-called gods was described. Seeing how that eminent author left this world without having completed his whole design, I thought it would be fitting if I brought his work to completion and gave an account of those things he had left unstated. There is perhaps as much to be gained from a full history of the rise of the gods of Weldera as there has been in the account of their fall. Howbeit, in this case the rise itself was a fall.
God and gods
If I am going to give an account of the rise of the gods, then I would certainly do well by defining just what is meant by the term 'god'.
Though they take contrary positions concerning the matter, the Nihlion of Solsis and the Mages of Lapulia are, as far as I have been able to ascertain, the only men whose primary understanding of the word 'god' refers to the God of the Sages, or at least some manifestation thereof. To most of mankind, on the contrary, and in the traditions of the elves, gods are anything merely superhuman.
Routinely in their histories, the elves refer to the monster Galmod as an evil 'god'. The dragon worshippers of Lakil ascribe a sort of divinity to their late master, who they say frequently assumed the form of a mighty dragon (particularly when the wine flowed freely during their autumn festivals). The inhabitants of Kharku, from what little is known of them, seem to have gods in greater quantities than they have men. In Vestron, and to a lesser extent in old Bel Albor itself, the elves themselves were at times considered gods.
One certainly cannot rule out the existence of all such supermen, monsters and sprites. But the one thing these beings all have in common is their temporality and their perceptibility. In other words, according to the teachings of those who worship them or fear them, they are creatur
es such that they can be discovered by eyes and hands. That being the case, there has been a long tradition of irreverence among the Mages of Lapulia concerning these gods. To us the asceticism of the dragon worshippers, the political interests of the elves, and the gullibility of the Kharukers can explain such beliefs far better than the truth of their doctrines. For if these gods be visible, audible, perceptible, then we, perceiving, yet seeing them and hearing them not, are more than just in concluding them to be the figments of careless minds - and nothing more.
Along with us in this opinion, interestingly enough, are the Nihlion of Weldera, who, like us, ascribe no divinity to such beings. I am told that among the Nihlion are to be found men as doubtful of the world of spirits as the Lord Mage of Lapulia himself. But, as the knowledge of these people is still somewhat new to the world, not much more can be said concerning what they, as a whole people, accept and reject.
What separates the Nihlion from the Lapulians, however, is their answer to the next question: Is there such a being as the Sages describe by the term God? Here, I must confess, I find the view of my own people (the Lapulians) most unsatisfactory, as I will make clear in what is to follow - and I beg my readers to withhold their judgment of my own view until it has found its full expression in the fourth book of this work.
Both the Nihlion and the Mages agree on this point: that the world is temporal, perceptible and understandable. Both these parties are also in agreement that God is none of these things. It follows from this that the world is not God, nor is God anything within the world. It is strange, then, that the Lapulians say such a being does not exist on the basis of facts discovered solely within the very thing to which the Nihlion contrast their deity.
It is an established doctrine in our city, that Reason left to itself cannot prove the truth of anything; it only has the power to draw from our knowledge what is already contained and implied therein. The content of our knowledge, of course, is restricted to the limits of our own experience, as any one who reflects upon their own thoughts can easily discover. Thus, Reason finds itself restricted to experience as well. Now, it must be admitted that we cannot experience that which lies beyond the power of our senses. An evaluation of the doctrines of the Nihlion, then, is beyond the power of sensation and Reason alike, and therefore, beyond the power of man. Those who say, as our Lord Mage has recently declared, that, 'The notion of the Nihlion, that God made the world, is not a peculiar one, nor is it a compelling one. For if such a being existed, surely we would find in this our world some semblance of evidence,' - those who say such things reveal only that they have misunderstood the whole matter.
All this has been said to prevent what must certainly be objected against what is to follow. It will be said that in recounting the creation myth of the Nihlion, I have wholly departed from sound thinking. For what proof have I that the doctrines of the Nihlion are correct? What proof have I that they are not?
That the mind of man has its limits is, ironically, one of the most difficult truths to get men to understand. But the accounts of men such as the Nihlion, strange though they sound to a Lapulian's ears, must be evaluated by their own merit, and not on the misunderstandings of careless thinkers. And they must be understood in the terms of those who wrote them, and not according to the conventions of Lapulian mages, who share no common history with the Nihlion, either in language or custom.
As the motto goes in our own City: 'Learn it first, then learn it thoroughly, then judge.'
Golden Age
It is said among the Nihlion that the Eternal One first of all created the mighty Maja, who, in the traditions of Dadron, is called by the name Thaeton, Lord of Dragons. The government of the Elementals was placed under his command, and he was given the task of shaping the world that would soon appear. For this reason he was worshipped by the southern elves under the name of Ilviria, which signifies, Goddess of Life. In Kharku this ancient being has more names than can be remembered, but the most prominent name is 'Khuhus', which means, 'Crafty One'. If there is anything resembling a true deity among the Kharukers, then it is the one they call 'Khuhu Nai', which signifies, 'the Greatest Crafty One'. The Nihlion in some of their less important texts seem to split the Maja in three, calling him at once, Ternus, Espas and Caustos - 'the three false gods who created the world'.
When at last the work of creation was completed, the Maja took upon himself the form of a Dragon and entered into the world he had formed to survey all that had been created. But he found it to be quite different from what he had expected. In great frustration he returned at once to the abode of the gods, which lies beyond the starry heavens. He came at last to the throne of the Almighty and made his complaint, saying, 'What has come of all my labors, which I expended upon this earth? It has been brought to naught.'
This answer was given to him, 'Your labors have not come to naught; only within your own eyes is this so.'
'I made a world of joy and mirth, but it has, by some other power become a ruin and a wreck!' the Dragon protested.
'The only power in the world is that which was given into your hands to do with as you please; look within yourself, and you will see the world you have made. But look without and you will see the world that has created you. All is not lost.'
'But I was granted the power to do with the world as I wished; how then is it otherwise?'
'It is true that you were given such a power. But more than that you were not given.'
At this the Dragon fled away and returned in a rage to the earth. Like a flaming arrow he smote himself against the world he had made, causing a great fire to rise up from the ground. In the midst of these flames the great Dragon lay himself down in great anguish of soul, lamenting the work of his own hands.
When he arose, and when he had taken a look at the stars above, he discerned that an entire age of the world had passed. The air had changed, and there was a gentle rain falling - this was the first rainfall. The feel of the water calmed his raging heart and he could, for that moment only, discern in the world a quiet wisdom. A voice spoke so softly to him that he could not tell whether it was his own heart speaking, or some other being. 'Think not that I shall leave the world a ruin forever. This world, though you think it has been corrupted, has not been forsaken. It is your work alone, but you are not your own work. From thence shall spring the destiny of the world. Take comfort!'
Of Living Things
When the Dragon first beheld a living creature he was moved, for the first and only time, to laughter. So thunderous was his guffaw that the Nihlion say, in their fairy tales at least, that his laughter gave birth to all the winds of the earth. While this doctrine has led many in my own city to fall into fits of laughter themselves, it is not so very different from the very serious and pessimistic opinions of some of our own Mages. Master Ecus, for instance, in a very long work on motion argues that even the tiniest movement can bring about a hurricane or a cyclone in another part of the world. At any rate, it is very likely that both the ancient Nihlion and Ecus had the same principle in mind when they wrote, though they spoke with different tongues.
The first creature, the Nihlion say, was something akin to a tiny fish, and it appeared in the warm waters off the eastern shore of Dominas. The warm sun and the ancient ocean together nourished this life, and after an age had passed the waters teemed with an infinitude of creatures.
When the dragon saw them he was filled with disappointment, thinking to himself, 'Is this that of which the Almighty spoke? The frailest thing I have yet beheld, and it is the world's great hope?'
With great anger he filled his lungs with air and sent leaping flames out over the waters. The flames licked up the waters, turning the living creatures into ashes and smoke. But for all his wrath, there were a few that remained, and those that survived his anger grew mightier with each blast of flame and went deeper into the sea where the flames could not reach them.
The dragon plung
ed into the depths, his fiery soul boiling the water wherever he swam. Beneath the waves he pursued the living creatures to the darkest regions of the sea. But despite his great power he could not extinguish them all. In time, the creatures grew strong and large, and those that survived donned armor of scales and learned cunning ways to evade their vicious assailant.
He took their resistance as a mockery of his own labors and his own sufferings, and he vowed to make an end of them.
In time the fish grew so strong and sturdy that a few of them dared to crawl out of the sea onto dry land, their thick skins now hardened against even the boiling sun above. But the dragon arose from the waters in pursuit, hot with rage and with steam rising from his flesh. He chased these creatures into the forests and jungles of the world, which had sprung up out of the earth during his absence from the dry land. These he burned with fire, always in pursuit of the living creatures. But for everything he slew, a new creature arose in another place; stronger, and more prepared for his rampages. Even the very forests he burned began to withstand him, and some trees even produced seedlings that would not begin to grow without first being burned by fire.
In time, the living creatures of the earth took to the air to escape the dragon on the ground. And the dragon followed them, chasing them through the sky, soaring upon his mighty wings.
Thus the whole world - air, land and sea - was filled with living creatures, and the Dragon at last retreated, finding a great cavern in the south in which to rest from the furious war he had waged against all living things. There in the darkness he turned his mind to other things, hoping to find the hidden wisdom of the world. But he sought it not to gain hope, but rather advantage; for he hoped that by it he might overthrow the purposes of heaven. Meanwhile, the fires and wars he had begun continued to rage, shaping and changing everything according to his hatred.
Of the Goblins
Among all the creatures of the earth there have been none so clever as the apes. For this reason they are the most beloved of the dragon; and in the ancient world they were his most faithful servants. After several ages of the world had passed, and when his fury had at last cooled, the Dragon Thaeton emerged from his lair and wandered the plains of Kharku in despair. It was there that he first laid eyes upon these strange beasts.
His immense size and his terrible power soon gave him the lordship over even the strongest of them, and from their line he bred the wildmen, who are the ancestors of the goblins.
With the power of the dragon ever at their side, the goblins multiplied and spread throughout Kharku and made their way into Ilmaria, Dominas and even into the southern portion of Bel Albor. Soon these creatures became too numerous for the dragon to manage, and he was forced to forsake the greater portion of them, leaving them to fend for themselves in the distant wilds of the world, but the strongest of the creatures he kept in Centras, which is now the island of Kollun.
There he built for himself something of a fortress, though no wall could give him better defense than his own scales and claws. From Centras he waged a long war against all that was beautiful, sending whole armies of brutish ape-men out to trample every flowering field, burn every forest, and to soil every clean brook.
Almost as if in response to this injury, the world grew all the more perilous: Poisonous animals of every kind appeared, and dark creatures of sickness crawled about under every rock, making the goblins pay for their infractions in full and in blood.
Of the Dwarves
Some time afterwards, in the land of Kharku, Thaeton discovered a group of apes that were even more adept and cunning than the goblins. He tried to bring these also under his dominion as he had done before, but was met this time with fierce resistance. These 'Fire Children', as they were called in the ancient days, he discovered in the smoldering hills of Khufahr, which is in the land that is now referred to as Deplund. The hot and arid terrain made their skin as strong as leather, and the ever-changing volcano made them - at least those who survived - adaptable.
Upon them the gift of Reason was first bestowed, though it was not given to them in the same measure as it would later be given to mankind. It is said among some of our more comical poets that it was the hot landscape that made them first devise words and language in consequence. Surceti says, through one of his actors, 'Indeed, that divine spark was given to the dwarves by means of that earthly spark, which burned ever beneath their feet. Wherever the heat grew too great, the dwarves would cry out, 'Yaha!', which would effectively and verbally give warning to the others to find some other ground to walk upon. Incidentally, 'Yaha' is the dwarven word for both 'hot' and for 'peril' in general.'
The name they gave to the dragon, when at last he had made himself known to them in power, was Yaha'Nai, which being translated is, 'The Great Evil' or ' The Great Fire'.
It was primarily through their ability to use words that they were able to evade the dragon's many assaults. After he was unsuccessful in his endeavors to enslave them, he took it upon himself to stamp them out from the earth. But with each war he and his goblins waged, the dwarves grew only stronger than before. If their bones were like oak in the beginning, they became like iron by the end of that age. Their intellect became as swift in its judgment as their arms were in battle, and their skill in forged metals grew in proportion to their needs.
The fire of the dragon drove them deep into the ground where they discovered and mined the many hard metals from which they crafted their armor. The dwarven name for 'armor' is fle'na, which seems to indicate, 'double-skin'. This skin they bore in their contests with the goblins, driving them, for a time, almost to extinction in Kharku. When at last they faced the Maja Thaeton, he found that they had become too powerful for him to defeat. In a battle, lost to history, but easily discernible in the ruins of that ancient land, ten-thousand dwarf built golem-riders battled the Dragon, severing his right hand and piercing him with so many wounds that the dragon was, for an age of the world, thought to be dead. He fled from that battle and disappeared beneath the waves of the western sea.