August 31, 2009
Tales of
Aion – Five-part Fictional Story – # 3
Tales of Aion
is a five-part fictional story written by Michael Lafferty at GameZone. It
traces the stories of two characters, one Elyos and one Asmodian as they move
through the world and into a battlefield where the races collide.. It is a
personal journey for each – Esala’ayni, the Elyos ranger, and Korasai, the
Asmodian spiritmaster – from their re-awakening in the world to their acceptance
of who they are and what their place is in the torn land.
The first
story centers on Esala’ayni as she begins to realize what and who she truly is,
with each step in the land of Poeta revealing more and more about her nature and
her place in the Elyos society.
The second story takes on the tale of an Asmodian and his paths and thoughts
through his ascension to Daeva.
Story three continues the path woven by Esala’ayni.
Chapter 3 – Infiltration
With each passing
day, this war with Asmodae makes less sense. I do not truly know if I felt this
way before or whether my time in Poeta has opened my eyes anew. But it seems to
have little meaning. And now, it seems, we are not content to fight in the
Abyss, but instead we are using rifts that have started to appear to enter their
lands and to slowly kill them off. When will it all end? When there is only one
race left in the shattered ruins of what was once a glorious homeworld? If that
is the case, what will be gained and more importantly, what will be lost?
Esala’ayni closed the diary, and then placed it into the lock box, shutting it
and turning the key to seal in the book. This would, in turn, be stored in her
private bank vault. Some thoughts were best not spoken aloud, but still, there
was a degree of solace in writing them down.
It was almost time to go.
Since her return to the ranks of the Daevas, the orders had come fast and
furious, each task building on her work, her skill with the bow and blades
guiding the path she was taking. And now this – an infiltration order into
Asmodae to seek out a deputy brigadier general and to convince him to return to
the flow of Aether with his men. The lands of the Asmodians were something she
did not expect to see, at least so soon, and there was trepidation in her heart
over this quest.
Still, she was a servant of her people, a servant of Seraphim Lords and she was
honor-bound to serve. Everything about was a reminder of that, from the
brightly-colored armor she wore to the wings that were summoned to give her
flight. And yet, something inside sensed that this was somehow wrong and not the
way it was meant to be. Too much anger, too much pain, and the war was the
constant that seemed to be driving deeper into her convictions.
Her wings sprouted and she ascended the cove to the Eltnen Fortress complex, her
mind drifting from the waterfalls and gentle stream of the valley below. She
knew that a rift had appeared, a link between Elysea and Asmodae. It would not
be open for long and she needed to set out soon to catch it. The rifts were
anomalies, a further indication that the world was out of balance.
After the diary was stored in the vaults of the suspended fortress tower, she
set out on her assignment. In the dimness of the early morn, she glided down
into the Manduri Forest and then ran south, through the tunnel cut through the
rock and onto the desert near the Ruberein Wasteland. The Wasteland was a
treacherous place with beasts that would readily attack unwary travelers.
Esala’ayni was anything but unwary. Asmodian raiders had been spotted in the
area recently, so even as she ran, her bow was in hand and ready for trouble.
The morning sunrise brought out the start of the heat that was quickly absorbed
by the sands of the desert and sent back up in shimmering waves. Still, she kept
on, skirting wide the area the drakes called home and then turning west to track
along a short rock wall. On the plateau above the sandy floor she saw the blue
glow and knew it to be the rift. She scaled the rocks and approached the rift,
feeling the hum and energy cast off by the portal, dancing across her skin,
creating a tingling sensation.
Esala’ayni readied her blades; there was no telling what she might find on the
other side when she materialized somewhere in Asmodae. Then she stepped into the
rift.
There was a swirl of colors that quickly went completely black, and then, as
though walking through mist toward a distant object, the world on the other side
of the rift began to form. At first the colors were hazy and muted, but with
each passing second they become more vibrant, in sharper focus and alive.
She was prepared for the world to be vastly different – this was, after all,
Asmodae. But in actuality, it was not much different than the place she had just
left behind. The time of day seemed to have changed, though, from mid-morning to
dusk, but other than that …
Her briefing told her this was the Salintus Rise, an arching plateau of rocks
that perched the gate high above more desert and the oases about which some of
the indigenous Asmodae tribes made their homes. She had been told to skirt the
tribes and to try to leave no trace of her presence behind.
She ran up a rise and then launched herself off the cliff, a sheer 300-foot drop
for one who was not gifted with the talents of a Daeva. Her wings appeared,
caught an updraft and lifted her up. She could feel the coolness of different
air currents above the desert floor, the tip of a pin feather taking her lower
into warmer layers, then catching a thermal and lifting higher again.
The air was a mixture of light winds, uplifting thermals and still pockets and
forced her to ground, startling the wildlife. When possible, she used her
fleetness of foot to run from predators. After all, a dead body was a certain
marker that a stronger force had come through the area and if the Asmodian
patrols were intelligent – and she had no doubt they were – then a trail of dead
bodies heading away from the rift would lead to only one conclusion, and a
full-scale hunt would begin.
Her path was north, then east through a canyon and past a Kentaric village, home
to huge bestial creatures that seemed social enough in each other’s company but
greeted outsiders with fury and the reaching claws of death.
Topping a rise, she finally saw the marker that would turn her toward her final
destination. A huge fortress sat above two rock columns, high above the desert,
anchored by chains whose links were the size of an average Elyos. She could see
the fluttering green outlines of creatures more ethereal than tangible. They
were the guardians of the tower. Turning west, she ran quickly and soon a wide
winding path appeared that would take her up onto the mountainside and to the
Fortress of Sorrow. This was her destination.
Esala’ayni started up the path and then froze, the way was guarded by Elyos
spirits, warriors and legionaires, each menacing enough, but with faces that
reflected a deep sorrow. One approached her, and she remained still, her left
hand tightening its grip on her bow. The spirit looked at her briefly and then
moved past. It was the way with all the spirits – a quick glance and then moving
along patrol routes. In this place of the dead, she was welcomed, it seemed.
She found Deputy Brigade General Lamipedon at the top of the fortress. As she
approached, the ghostly eyes of the long-dead Elyos looked at her and then
almost seemed startled by what he saw.
”Arieluma Daeva!” he finally said, in greeting. “It has been an eternity since
we’ve seen another Elyos. You’re a welcomed sight after all the Asmodians who
come up here to harass us.”
As quickly as possible, Esala’ayni told him that his mission and that of his
men, was over and it was time to return to the ethereal, to the Aether.
Lamipedon shook his head, dismissing the idea of leaving. Yes, it was good that
their long wait was concluded, but the duty of the Elyos, even as spirits,
remained in the Fortress.
Confusion was on Esala’ayni’s face. Lamipedon’s countenance softened. His voice
was somber and he began to speak. “We were stationed here, the Legion of Storm,
an Elyos guard in this desolate part of Asmodae. When trouble came, we thought
we were prepared, but we underestimated the strength of our enemies. They came
with deadly might, fire and steel, wave after crushing wave. Our barriers
withstood the first onslaughts, but they were too great in number. And then,
Commander Deltras, standing among those at the forefront of our defenses,
yelling to us all to defend for the sake of Elysea, was struck. He fell but rose
again, his tunic stained with his blood but his spirit strong and his heart
stronger. For Elysea, he yelled and we answered with every weapon at our
disposable – arrow, steel and magic; our countenances grim and determined. But
the voice that called forth our courage was silenced in the next assault.
Commander Deltras fell and our meager defenses were overwhelmed.
“Those left standing were too few to resist. We were told to lay down our arms
and we had no choice but to comply. But the enemy was not sated by this gesture.
‘Kneel,’ we were told, ‘kneel and swear fealty to your conquerors.’ That we
would not do. That would dishonor our heroic commander, it would dishonor Elysea,
and it would dishonor our duties as Daevas. For our disobedience, we were
massacred, the last of our defense joining Deltras in death. But death could not
hold us long. We were of the spirit realm, but we would not leave this place
where Deltras’ honor, were the courage of our commander shone forth as a beacon.
And so we stay on, to guard and honor the place where Deltras fell.”
Esala’ayni felt her heart breaking; this was true love and loyalty – nobility
and courage intertwined.
“There must be something I can do,” she said.
“There is,” Lamipedon said. “We can leave but only if first we pay a final
tribute to Deltras.”
The spirit commander produced Elyos fireworks. “Go to the valley below, to the
fortress there, and set off these fireworks as our homage to Deltras. We cannot
leave this place; we are bound here. But you are not of the Aether and you can
do this for us … please.”
How could she refuse? Their devotion to their commander was profound; even in
death they remained loyal. And then it occurred to her that the heart and soul
of the shattered world of Aion was not in the strength of arms, but in the love
and hope and honor of the races.
As she set off, she realized that to pay tribute to Deltras was to pay tribute
to all those fallen in the war that pitted one race against another – those on
both sides of the conflict. Certainly the war would not end any time soon, but
what were they fighting for? There was beauty and wonder in Asmodae, as much as
there was in Elysea. What was it that set the Asmodians and Elyos against each
other? Where was the source of the hatred truly to be found? And what was the
point of ascending to the rank of Daeva if all it meant was to be able to kill
with more proficiency?
She tossed those questions from her mind. For now, she focused on the task at
hand, but once back in Eltnen Fortress, she vowed to set aside some time to try
to reason this all out.
Previous chapters in the story:
Chapter One
– The Despair of Innocence
The first story centers on Esala’ayni as she begins to realize what and who she
truly is, with each step in the land of Poeta…
The second story in the five-part
series views the world from the perspective of an Asmodian spiritmaster named
Korasai.
