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In olden days, in the time when the Gods strode the earth, there was a single great Kingdom of Men. Its people lived in the shadow of the western mountain ranges, and along the Helkaan River. The virtuous King Narakos the Tenth ruled them, from the beautiful city of Bremtan for many long years. But in his eighty-second year as king, there was a schism in the Dragon ranks, and a high-ranking Vaildar, or chieftain in the common tongue, named Ascakris, and his Tanei, followers, came to dwell in the mountains in the west of the Kingdom.
Ascakris began to lead raids into villages and killed many men and women and children. Some of his lesser Dragon Tanei were killed by defense forces, but the main mass of Dragons survived. They grew more daring with each raid, and did this for two years.
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Narakos the Tenth was woken one morn by a breeze on his face. Somehow, the door to his terrace was open. He must remember to tell the chambermaids to lock them. He rose and walked over to the doors and through them into the cool morning breeze. He walked slowly to the opposite corner of the balcony, which had the finest view of the Helkaan in the Kingdom. After a particularly stiff wind, Narakos decided the time had come for has day to begin, and so he turned to go back into his chambers. To his horror there was the Black Dragon Ascakris, leader of the raids against his subjects. He took a few steps back, but then saw he had nowhere to go, so he hardened his resolve and said, "Why have you come here? Surely you know that if you kill me I will only be replaced."
The Dragon nodded, and responded with a deep rumbling voice, "I desired to see the look of fear on the King of all men’s face." Then he smiled toothily, "And I have a proposal to make to you."
The King raised his chin, seeing treachery in this beast, but then said, "Make your proposal."
Ascakris narrowed his slitted eyes, as if looking into the king’s soul, but replied, "Very well. You possess something that I want. Something of grave importance. And if you give me this artifact, I will no longer attack your kingdom."
The king looked deeply troubled at this, because he knew the artifact Ascakris spoke of, and he knew what importance it held. He knew he could not give this dragon what he wanted, even if it was to save his life. He said, "I will not give you this artifact you seek," at this Ascakris flared his wings menacingly, smoke plumed from his nostrils, and his pitch black eyes narrowed. He said, "You shall not hold this artifact for much longer, my liege." The last bit he added in a mocking voice, with a bow of his great head.
He then took off with a jump and one flap of his enormous wings. The King fell to the ground, pushed by the force of the wind. He was drained by the fear in his heart, but he must be strong. He rose again and went into his chambers to get dressed.
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Weeks had passed since this meeting on King Narakos X’s balcony, but it had not slipped far from his mind. Everywhere he went now it was under a heavier guard and by faster horses. But one clear day he passed a handsome, black-haired, knight along the road, and the knight bowed to him. This was to be expected of course.
Then as the knight raised his head, his eyes widened and he yelled for the king to get out of the carriage. He was moved quickly out of the carriage onto covered on the ground, and only just in time. For the Black Dragon had swooped down and the moment the King was on the ground he breathed his black fire, melting everything in the coach, even the metals used to support it. Ascakris landed several fathoms away, with his wings unfurled fully, to their wingspan of over five and twenty fathoms.
This knight moved forward, with only a sword and the armor he was wearing, some light scale mail by the looks of it. Ascakris bellowed and shot black fire into the air, waves of heat rippling through the air next to the flames. But the knight did not waver, nor hesitate in his advancement, only hefted his sword with both hands, and raised it as if to fight.
The Dragon laughed at this boy, whom even the king would admit, had become foolhardy with bravery. Then Ascakris stopped laughing abruptly, and turned his focus to the young knight. He made a lunge for his legs with a massive forearm, but the knight jumped, and landed on the dragon’s wrist and before Ascakris had time to react, this heroic boy stabbed his sword down and toward himself, so that it reached under the dragon’s scales.
Ascakris howled with pain and wrenched his arm back whipping the knight’s feet from beneath him, and he tumbled as he fell to the ground. But astonishingly, the boy landed on his hands and knees, by a stroke of luck. He recovered quickly and pulled another sword from the scabbard on his back. Ascakris looked the boy up and down carefully now, for, though this was not the first time he had been injured in a battle, it was a new experience to me matched by a human boy. So he decided to take to the skies, and eliminate any possibility of further danger to himself. And to the King’s amazement, the knight moved to the spot where the dragon landed and knelt, apparently in prayer.
At this Ascakris laughed. He roared in an effort to destabilize the boy, "Why do you pray when you should fight? Do you pray to have your sword returned to you? You should not bother, you should have just asked!" During this he had been working the sword free of his wrist and at the end he threw the sword towards the knight. Fortunately Ascakris, being so high up, missed the boy by a fathom. He then rose and picked up his other sword and wielded one in each hand. Ascakris dove, and spit his black fire at the boy, but once again he was outmatched in speed, as the boy rolled on his shoulder to avoid the fiery blast. At the last moment he held both swords nearer to the flame so that they heated up, and jumped again, back where the flames had been a second ago, but now there flew a dragon. He had jumped just at the right moment it appeared, and was even with Ascakris’ neck when he hit him.
The swords had different effects. The second sword the knight pulled out from the scabbard on his back, had no effect at all and simply was deflected by the scales. However, the knight’s first sword went into Ascakris’ neck all the way to the guard.
Ascakris fell to the ground and rolled, shaking the ground with his weight and ended up, after rolling a good distance, on his back motionless, with a sword sticking out of his neck.
The King ordered his guard to see if the young knight was hurt, he could not imagine him being unharmed after slaying a dragon, much less a Vaildar. After a minute or two of searching, the guards found the boy in a bush unconscious. So, they brought him back to another carriage which had been with them and then straight back to the castle. They informed the town criers on their way in, that the leader of the raids against their kingdom was slain, by a young man, who from closer appeared to be in his early twenties.
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Narakos the Tenth had only been so grateful to several people in his life. As he sat by the bed of this young hero, and anxiously waited for his awakening, he thought of what to give the boy for saving his life.
But wait! He saw the eyelids flicker open, and the boy glanced around the room confusedly. Until his eyes came to rest upon the King. He tried to sit so that he might bow his head, but the King stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder.
"You must rest my boy. You have achieved a feat that no one has ever attempted before." The knight looked confused, so Narakos said, "You have slain Ascakris."
The boy seemed to try to absorb this knowledge, "I…I never thought that I would be able to do that."
"And because you have saved my life, and the lives of countless others, I would like to offer you a reward." He waited for the knight to ask what the reward was, but when it became evident that he would not he said, "I would like to bring you into this royal family," he paused, "by marriage."
The boy had a slow smile come over his face, and the King could only imagine why. His two daughters were famed throughout the land for their beauty. "But first," said the king, "I must know you’re name my boy. For it would not do to have a son whose name I do not know," he said jovially.
The boy looked at the king.
He closed his eyes, and inclined his head forward. "My king, I cannot give you my name. When one becomes a knight they lose their name, and adopt the name of fidelity and justice, just as all other knights."
Narakos gave the boy a testing look, seeing whether or not he was serious, but after a moment a broad and sincere smile broke upon the boy’s face and he laughed aloud. The king joined the boy, his concern for the young knight’s name all but forgotten and he told the boy that he would leave him to his recovery. He left the chamber and walked down to the walls of his city, where he looked out to the road on which he had been assaulted today and thought of a young knight’s selfless bravery. He stood staring for a few long moments. Then he turned away and walked back to his castle, where he would be engrossed in the business of running a kingdom of squabbling men who seemed determined to tear themselves apart, when the Dwarves and Dragons who loom so tall, or broad in the case of the small, ferociously strong warriors to the north, would gladly do it for them.
He had sent a message for his daughters to come to his meeting hall at midday, at which time he would address them concerning his decision over one of their futures. When Narakos’ daughters arrived at midday he put his quill down and smiled at them. The older daughter, Nelomis, had black hair, and, though not quite as beautiful as her younger sister was still fair, with a thin waist and wide hips, which would be ideal for childbearing for any man who would choose her. The other daughter, Senares, was very fair, the fairest in all the land, for she had golden blonde hair and a long slender figure. However, she had a fiery temper and was not to be tested, even slightly.
The king said to them, "As I’m sure you’ve heard, today I was attacked, and saved by a young man. What I’m sure you have not heard is that I’ve pledged one of you to marry him, and which one of you is his choice." The daughters traded a playfully competitive glance and looked back at their father, wondering if he had more to say, but when he gave them the sign that they were dismissed they curtsied and walked out of the hall. They talked all the way out of the keep about their plan to draw the young knight to them, and then at the entryway, they went their separate ways, a plan decided on.
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"A message for you, my lord," a young chambermaid said as she approached the bedside of the handsome knight. Then seeing the puzzled look that had come over his face, "It’s from the princess."
"Which princess sends word?" he asked.
"Both," another maiden said as she walked through the door behind the first.
"Well," the knight began, "which one of you goes first?"
The maids exchanged glances, and then each bowed out of the other’s way, then each began speaking at once, and both stopped again. Finally, the knight said, "You," and pointed at one of the young girls. "Tell me what your mistress sends."
After a curtsy and a slight pause, the girl cleared her throat and read, "It would please me very much if you would come to meet me tonight at midnight in the orchard beside the castle. Hoping to be yours, Princess Nelomis."
The knight nodded and motioned for the other chambermaid to read her letter. But she shook her head and said, "There is no need, good knight, it bears the very same message, save for Princess Senares sends it." He stared thoughtfully at nothing in particular for a moment or two, and then dismissed the chambermaids.
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Nelomis stood in the orchard, alone and waiting for her sister to walk through the orchard gate. She stood there, clothed in a long skirt and silken vest and watched as her sister walked into the orchard wearing only a silk tunic. Nelomis gaped when her sister walked to her and asked with a smug tone, "You said to dress down, sister. Worried about competition?"
Nelomis huffed and was about to reply when she saw out of the corner of her eye, a man walking into the gate. She shushed her sister and suggested that they present themselves to him in the lamplight.
The young knight stopped before them and gazed quietly at the sight before his eyes. Then he said, "So, your plan was to lure me here and each try to seduce me together, although separately." The girls looked at each other, then back to the man. "This is amusing," he said to no one in particular, "but you’ve saved me the trouble of finding you on my own."
The lamps burned but gave no light and as the girls screamed, the guards, previously informed of the princesses’ plans, chuckled to each other knowingly.
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Narakos the Tenth bent low over a letter to be sent off to a governor of Kalirv, and only noticed a change in the room when he began to be unable to see by the previously sufficient light of his candle. He looked up at it. It had not flickered unduly; it simply was not giving off light. He heard the easily recognizable sound of a clearing throat behind him and turned to see the young and gallant knight, his tunic sprayed with blood. The old man gasped and rose from his chair.
"Are you injured?" he started to ask, but he was cut short by a knife pointed at his chest. The young man bore a strange, almost victorious, grin across his face, and he pointed to the chair with the knife. Narakos obediently sat, hoping that it would hide the shaking in his legs.
"What is the meaning of this?" the king attempted to demand, but his voice quavered badly, and he could only hope that their was some explanation coming. The knight pulled a chair to him and sat, clearing his throat again.
"You see, I am not who you think I am." There was no trace of respect in his voice, and he continued, "I want you to know that there is nothing personally intended, but I must end your life." He smiled, and finished, "Unless, of course you would like to give me the artifact you have been given to keep." The old king looked at him, and said, "I’ll never give you the artifact, even if it costs me my life!"
"Ah but you see, it is not only your life that is at stake."
Realization dawned on Narakos’ face and he sank to his knees on the stone floor. "Please do not harm them," he begged, his face white.
"Give me the tablet, and it will become easier for you," the sly young man said.
King Narakos closed his eyes tight and then opened them and rose to his feet. He said, "I will take you there," and he began to walk.
"Wait," he heard the knight say. Then the man gripped his arm and he heard, "See in your mind’s eye where it lies." The king pictured it in his mind and then he felt himself rip through space and instantly they were in a basement of the castle. The old man fell to the floor and attempted to regain his composure. This is all too much, he thought, for an old man late at night.
He heard the knight step around in the utter darkness and then heard him ask roughly, "Where is it, old man? This basement is empty!"
"Unless you have a torch I don’t think we’ll be finding it any time tonight," the old king retorted with some of the last resolve he had left. Two hands grasped his shirtfront and pulled him up off the ground with smooth ease and brought him up to standing position.
Somehow, the king’s eyes began to adjust to the complete darkness and he saw that he was inches away from the young man’s face and looking into his eyes. As the room grew less dark the knight spoke, "I said it’s empty." The king looked around and saw more and more of the room and knew that it was empty, as he had ordered when he had become king. He looked back to the man’s eyes and was horrified by the sight. From all around the room the darkness that had been in the air was swirling and gathering in the young knight’s eyes. He tried to look away but found himself unable to pull back from the terrible sight of darkness filling and becoming the entirety of the man’s eyes, to the point at which there was no pupil, iris or white.
When his eyes were naught but black he allowed Narakos to drop back to the ground and repeated, "Where is it?" The king looked around him and saw that the room was not lit, but nor was it dark, it was a grey tone, bearing neither light nor darkness. The old man pointed to a corner of the room and as the young knight walked there he gasped, "I know who you are." The figure in the black, blood-stained, tunic stopped and turned to him, smiled and said, "And? What has your little mind come up with after all this time?" Narakos laughed harshly and said, "You’ll be dealt with when the Father finds out you did this. You cannot kill innocent people and steal an artifact that he gave my fathers to protect, and stay a god. At the least, not in his good graces."
"What defenses does the tablet have around it?"
"None other than being in the lowest dungeon of the castle in a room with no doors. That would have been enough for most intruders."
"Go on and say my name then, if you know it human. Who is it that you believe me to be," he asked loudly with his arms spread wide and head thrown back in triumph.
"Geilt!" King Narakos the Tenth screamed as the God of Darkness threw his knife at the old king, slaying him even as his name left the old man’s lips.
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Geilt walked across the hill that he and his accomplice had decided on before this ordeal, and waited. Only because he was so ecstatic about his newest artifact had he waited on the one who had been so instrumental in getting close to the late King Narakos. Where could he be, and what nerve to stand up a god, he mused? Nothing could ruin his mood this night, for a scholar’s love of knowledge is boundless and tonight he had found what had been his quarry for many years. He watched as a rigid shape worked its way through the formless night sky, and did not flinch as the enormous black dragon Ascakris landed feet in front of him, lowering his head to a spot just in front of the God.
"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Lord of Darkness. I was rallying my still mourning Tanei to the burning of Bremtan," the Dragon Vaildar explained.
"I do not wish to hear excuses Chieftain, all I want is to complete my part for the bargain and be on my way to decipher the tablet you helped me obtain," the God of Darkness replied.
"Speaking of which," rumbled Ascakris, "what secret is this tablet meant to hold?"
For a moment, Geilt considered lying to the dragon, but then decided against it, "The original tablet was broken by Aphuadom many thousands of years ago," he said. "I have found the first two pieces and translated them. They read: Whoever reads this/stone has Donuruk as/… It has eluded me for quite some time, and now I have it in my hands, and I still do not know what I have Donuruk as." His voice had grown loud and strained, and his hands shook as though the thought of knowing what he held in them would drive him mad. He suddenly looked very self-conscious and his head snapped back to the Dragon before him. "You have done very well, and for that you deserve your reward."
He took a small vial from his robes and held it out for Ascakris to take. It was filled with swirling dark wind, and the black Dragon studied it closely before grasping it and holding it for himself.
"What does it hold," he asked.
"A single drop of my blood mixed with a drop of the blood of Thul, God of Wind. I hope that you use it well, because it was a very difficult mix to procure," replied Geilt distractedly.
Ascakris hesitated, then opened the tiny, to him, vial and poured the contents into his mouth. He stood straight on his hind legs and looked at himself, then went back down onto all fours and said; "I feel no difference, Lord of Darkness. What is it meant to do?" But as he looked down to the ground where the god had been, but there was nothing but hillside.
He roared in fury at the night, and blew black fire, invisible in the pitch darkness and soared away.
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Ascakris flew far into east, past forests and rivers and lakes and mountains, until at last he came to a coastal island with a solitary mountain upon its surface. He found many tunnels beneath the mountain’s face, for it was an ancient volcano which had fallen asleep long ago. In the first several decades after the burning of Bremtan and the beginning of the wars of man, Ascakris flew at night and raided Elven ships sailing between the river Frenlan and the isles of which Nurehil is the chief city. He found that he could shroud himself in Darkness and that the longer he shrouded himself in the Dark Mist, the more he became it. He could become black fog at will in a century. However, he soon had little use for this talent, because the gold he had accumulated drew him to his cave dwelling and held him there as a chain holds its prisoners. He left his cave far less in the century after the burning of Bremtan, for his greed had consumed him, and thus, Ascakris the renegade Vaildar passed out of all but the keenest memories until the next age.
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Geilt, the Scholar as he was known to the other Gods, appeared in his library-like dwelling, a subjective realm in which many things were only as he desired them to be. All the Gods had realms and dwellings such as this, each one suited to his or her own needs and desires with only a select few objective things. These things were either things presented to the lower Gods by Aphuadom, or actual objects brought from Noldegrad. Of any realm, Noldegrad, Thalisgrad, and all the so-called good Gods’ realms, Noldegrad was the only realm with any measure of objectivity in it. Geilt supposed this was because the simple beings who dwelt in it were incapable of altering their surroundings and had accepted their reality as concrete. This by no means meant that the Gods were also incapable of changing Noldegrad, it was simply an effort to perform any great feats there.
Geilt stood lost in his reverie when he remembered the tablet in his hands and the secret it must hold. He was at his desk with a book of runic symbols and their translated meanings opened to the page on which lied the answer to his question. The object of his obsession for many hundreds of years.
The answer was: Master.