Lure O' War (The Old Realms)

Sing o' Muse shrill notes touched wit poise so Mistland's Dragonrider's tale be revealed

For Ivasaar the Bold and Wild Rikkusa who never yielded,

Keep thy words gracious o' divine enchantress 'n all veils shall be lifted

There 'n back again into the lands of Wonder they have now drifted

-

Phinariel, the Boorish Poet

Zilan Psalm, (Song of the Third Era)

Verses 13-16

Around 210 NC (3416 IC)

Ivasaar

The tale of Ivasaar & Rikkusa

Part I

-How can I be, an adventurer like you?-

The waters of Bearcub Canal, near Magister Kinos* River delta,

in the more dangerous southeast approach

Kaletha Triarchy territory

Cainen Moon/Month of 3179 IC

(10th month of the year)

Seventeen years before the Empire's Fall

A hundred meters from the Imperial Barque the 'Ticu's Glance' and less than a quarter of a nautical mile from the main land

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

*The two rivers named Magister Kinos (or Chinos) and Duke Balworth had their sources in Kaletha Lake, creating a natural barrier that defined the borders of Irde Peninsula.

**Bearcub Canal, the giant channel between the mainland shores of Mistland and Bear Isle, had also a northwestern entrance (or approach) through the giant gulf of Caspo O' Bor.

This wasn't just any squid of the deep, a desperate Ivasaar thought as he leaped to seize the rope, pulling himself onto the boat before the waves could drag him down.

Milatar lent a hand, and with a frustrated groan Ivasaar climbed aboard, coughing up mouthfuls of water mixed with puke in the process. Couple of pieces of watery lard served with crunched fish-heads in there also!

"Damn it, Nevarth!" he bellowed, rising unsteadily on the swaying boat that was moving away from Ticu's Glance, where the captain had been watching them from the stern, Nevarth's free hand resting on his drenched hat. "It looked like a baby Kraken! Sole eye and everything!"

"Did you sever the harpoon line?" Nevarth inquired anxiously, dismissing his concerns.

"Aye. Wait, did you hear… damn," Ivasaar swore, struggling to prevent himself from being thrown back into the furious waters once more. The baby Kraken had surfaced, its lifeless body bobbing up and down the rising waves of the channel. As for the large steel harpoon fired from the ship's ballista, aka the bulky bolt-thrower near its stern, it was still lodged into the creature's egg-shaped cranium. Ivasaar and Milatar had to cut the line tied on the harpoon as the 'small' Kraken's weight had started steering Ticu's Glance towards the shores, aided by the strong weather.

"Just stay where you are," Nevarth shouted, giving them a thumbs up. "And I'll make my way around the island again—"

A strong vibration cut his words off, just as the two Zilan inside the swaying boat had started voicing their objections. Something ominous was approaching them and it wasn't just a feeling. The protracted sound was coming from the depths and it bubbled up in a muffled manner, reminiscent of an underwater trumpet.

"What was that?" A distressed Milatar asked, then immediately clenched his teeth tightly to keep his jaw still and prevent them from clattering.

"Nevarth!" Ivasaar barked, looking at the angry waves tossing their boat about and then at the alarmed captain. "Gods damn you!" He cursed when Nevarth ordered the helmsman to turn the ship back towards the mouth of the channel. "You son of a bitch!"

"Keep the faith!" Nevarth reassured them. "Stay on the boat! Rejoice friends, for I'll be back for you!"

"What?" Milatar grunted and yelped at the end of it, when a wave almost toppled their boat.

"You piece of drunken shite!" Ivasaar roared in anger.

"I'll come pick you up!" Nevarth yelled from the ship and gestured with his arms. "Make for the shore Ivasaar! The Gods of Wetull be with you comrades!"

That may be, but we are in fucking Mistland!

Ivasaar opened his mouth to respond in a caustic manner but the vibration came again, this time stronger and he turned towards the panicked Milatar. "Unhook the oars!" He barked to snap him out of his terror-induced torpor. "Help me steer this bucket towards land!"

-

Two minutes later

The Kraken had jumped out of the frothy channel waters and had moved its massive body towards the fleeing Ticu's Glance. Captain Nevarth waving at them from afar as they desperately tried their best to keep their tiny boat afloat and head the other way, towards the misty shores near the river's delta.

"Keep rowing Milatar!" Ivasaar bellowed, the rudder lodged under his armpit, right arm wrapped around it to keep it steady, the other hand gripping the boat and legs scissoring out to keep him aboard. "Pump them hard mate!"

"The ships is leaving!" A manic Milatar growled, spitting out seawater.

"Think positive!"

"What? Name one positive thing!" His partner snapped ogling his eyes.

"The Kraken is going after Nevarth!" Ivasaar retorted with a crazy grin, all teeth and gnarly tension.

Ivasaar would take stranded in Mistland over getting crushed and then tossed into Abrakas' gullet.

-

3 hours later

The helicopter-tree with the yellowish-green leaves and grey bark stood over ten meters high, a giant amidst the bushes and low vegetation of the watery terrain. Its smell pungent, very foul and bitter, it masked the rotten dampness of the marshes they had found themselves in.

Angry hornets had created a nest at its lower-hanging branches and zipped out towards the approaching Zilan forcing them to retreat.

"Stick to the road next to the big river," Ivasaar counseled the gripping Milatar, who still argued for them to stay near the moored boat. More like stuck in the mud. "Watch for the crocodiles. Saw a pretty big one whistling a mating tune a couple of minutes ago."

"Cut the crap!" Milatar snapped, his shirt wrapped around his head to protect his thinning hair from the strong sun.

"Not jesting." Ivasaar assured him and used a small shortsword he carried to cut through the vegetation. The 'road' had seen better days and flooding had turned it into a treacherous path. "Snakes are about to come looking for us also."

"Thanks great adventurer," Milatar taunted. "The captain promised to come get us. Leaving the boat and moving inland is insane!"

"Keep walking," Ivasaar grunted with a worried glance at the sun. "We don't want to be inside the marshes come nightfall if we can help it!"

"Staying near the boat and the seashores was safer!"

"No it wasn't! Crocodiles can swim in salty waters," Ivasaar breathed out and then kept opening a path on the overrun road following the river's banks. A big river this, huge. Its waters sweet but turned brackish inside the marshes and near the delta. "Nevarth had an affair with Vaessiel, late Lord Calamer's girl. It was well before I was born, back in the 17 or 18 hundreds. The war was still going on or hadn't started yet."

"What does…? Wasn't he the Queen's Justicar?"

"Yeah," Ivasaar agreed.

"Isn't the old girl also the Aniculo Rokae Elenarir's daughter?"

"With Calamer, true again," Ivasaar said keeping the conversation going while they followed the road.

"Pretty good lineage on Vaessiel. Where is she now?"

"I've no idea. Listen," Ivasaar continued. "Nevarth and she had a kid back in 1806. While Lady Vaessiel was pregnant word about their affair reached Lord Judge and his mate. The Judge sent a strongly-worded letter but a furious Elenarir flew on Nenderu to find them and Nevarth fled in panic to escape her wrath."

"I fail to see why this story is relevant Ivasaar!" Milatar snapped angrily.

"Let me finish," Ivasaar insisted. "Nevarth promised Vaessiel he'll come back when the heat blew off a little to see her and the kid."

"Right. Still don't see the connection with our fucking predicament!" Milatar protested irate.

"Just keep your ears open for a bit. Now the pregnancy went on for about two-three years which can happen with Elderborns, but she had the kid as I said without problems."

"Bless her heart," Milatar grunted in a mocking manner. "When did Nevarth return? I guess he cut it close even with the extra time given."

"Eh. Not even close. He didn't show up for several centuries," Ivasaar deadpanned. "Fast forward to the present and our own predicament, with a Kraken after him and the troubles we faced to reach here in the first place, what makes you think he'll stick to his word this time? We are not exactly valuable like his baby mother and her famous parents, and he fucked them up also."

Milatar went to sit down on a rock in despair, but it was a giant turtle that stirred in great annoyance and tried to bite the recoiling Zilan. "Fucking hells!" Milatar cursed and moved away from the slow-moving boulder on four legs. "Look at the teeth on this blasted thing!"

"A flesh-eating turtle," Ivasaar replied pursing his mouth.

"Shit," Milatar grunted and looked about them. "The captain ain't coming back."

"Nope."

"No chance?"

"There's always a chance."

"Yeah," Milatar nodded hopefully. "What was the kid's name?"

"Taranir," Ivasaar said and gestured that they should keep going. "Worked for the Imperial Trade Company for years. Did some gardening next, he showed me a couple of things… clever guy. Knew how to navigate life and difficult situations like this one."

"Yeah? Where is he now?"

"In jail," Ivasaar replied with a grimace and gathered spit to clear his bitter-tasting mouth. "But they get him out, when trouble is afoot."

-

Ten hours later

The sun was still up –which was strange, unless the days here are longer Ivasaar thought- but the light had dimmed somewhat due to some clouds that had gathered on the sky. No chance of a rain yet, not that they needed more water or mud.

They had plenty of that. Six hours into their journey, they crossed over the river using a small inner island and a series of unsafe rope bridges, but while the terrain was better on the other side, the road wasn't.

"We need to head further inland on safer ground, and turn west to find the harbor from where all those ships came out of," Ivasaar explained to a tired Milatar, who was on the verge of giving up.

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"This could be another island," the Zilan griped smacking his lips.

"The wind doesn't smell of the sea," Ivasaar argued and spotted a square stone hut near what appeared to be small fishing docks. He raised his arm to warn Milatar and at the same time a short teenager with dark skin and white hair came out of the bushes to their right. The strange creature, looked like a Mori-Zilan sans the ears, had a spear in his hands.

"What the fuck…?" Milatar cursed and reached for the small axe he'd taken from the boat.

"To the heavens above our greetings," Ivasaar said with a friendly smile that seemed to unnerve the young human. "Are you a mutated hu-man?" He asked switching to Common mid-sentence and speaking very slowly in order to be understood.

"What's that?" The human asked in rough Common.

"Your race. We're Zilan," Ivasaar explained with a reassuring gesture to Milatar.

"Ah. When did you die?" The human teenager asked.

"We didn't? Thankfully," Ivasaar replied and stopped the grin on his lips as the teenager was staring at his mouth with suspicion. The kid glanced at the sun coming in and out of the clouds, then spat down.

"Constructs about," he told them.

"What did he say?" Milatar asked scratching at a rush on his neck he'd developed inside the marshes.

"You have Aken here?" Ivasaar asked with a frown. Galith was supposed to be thousands of kilometers to the west. Nowhere near this part of Mistland.

"Not frequently, but they may come about now that everyone else is gone. Alafern too, but they appear in the night, so you ain't that, I hope. You could be though, since they are tricky."

A worried Ivasaar nodded and glanced at the hut.

"Wait, did he just said there are Aken and Alafern about?" Milatar asked. "What about the ships?"

"Let me talk with him," Ivasaar told his colleague and continued in a friendly manner. "Human, ahm… I'm Ivasaar, an adventurer out of Elauthin. In the process of building up my legend. Also an explorer, yep."

"I'm Eelco Stroo," the teenager replied. "How can I be an adventurer like you? Or that other thing?"

Sign up in one of Nevarth's insane expeditions to the unknown seas. Make a lot of sacrifices to the Gods, especially Luthos, and pray the silly gnome is not sleeping or masturbating.

Then you better not try it at all.

"Pfft, he ain't much—" Milatar scoffed but Ivasaar stopped him with a slap on the chest.

"All can learn the trade," Ivasaar started and then paused to tend his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Eelco of the Stroo."

"Just Eelco," the teenager replied and took his hand. "What happened to yer ears?"

Ivasaar furrowed his brows unsure. "We're Zilan."

"Zoolan?"

"Zilan," Ivasaar corrected him patiently.

"Right. Where are you from?"

"The Great Wetull."

"What's that?"

"An Empire?" Milatar guffawed and shook his head, murmuring in Imperial. "We found an idiot amidst the blasted wilderness. Gods helps us."

"Shut up Milatar," Ivasaar grunted. "It's a place beyond the… ocean. To the north," he explained and Eelco nodded with a grin.

"We call you the silly Gish. Empire… ha-ha. I guess whomever wrote the book couldn't tell pink from blue and met all the short ones, ehe-he," Eelco started laughing at the two perturbed Zilan in short little bursts as if he wasn't accustomed to it.

"The Gish… no we come from way further than that," an astounded at the confusion Ivasaar elucidated. Milatar made a gesture with his hand that the kid was nuts.

"Aha. Well, this is… this was Kaletha Triarchy. You are right on the border in a sense," Eelco replied, missing the Zilan's not that subtle signals. "Few venture into the Marshes or moor near the river's delta. Mostly idiots. The Kraken brings its younglings there and this side of the Channel is infested with pirates out of Bear Isle."

Nevarth you fucking criminal!

"Is there a city near here?" A grimacing Ivasaar asked, disregarding his rude comment.

Eelco was right in a sense.

"Beyond the big lake. Kaletha. Two weeks journey… more I guess on foot," Eelco replied and started walking towards his hut.

"Wait," Ivasaar called after him.

"Leave this coal-skinned idiot Ivasaar," Milatar protested and added in hushed Imperial. "Unless we do the deed and feed ourselves, if he's eatable. No one will know."

"Not another word," Ivasaar warned him and run after Eelco. "Hey, where is this city? What's its name?"

"Irde," Eelco replied and stopped to look at the lanky Zilan. "What manner of Empire doesn't know of Irde?"

"It's a big ocean," Ivasaar offered. "Bigger than I thought for sure. You live here alone? Where are your parents?"

"Mum and dad are buried behind the hut, next to my sisters," Eelco replied with a grimace. "The others left, but I stayed. It's my hut now."

"Left with the fleet?" Ivasaar said, now aware of why Eelco appeared so aloof and strange.

"Yeah."

"Where are they going?" Ivasaar asked. They had seen the lights of the fleet in the night, but opted to stay out of its away. At least two hundred ships is a strong deterrent. "If they keep that heading they might hit the Sinking Isles. But it's a long way and plenty of water between them."

"They know the route," Eelco replied and made to turn around to resume his walk. "These were the last ships to leave."

"When did the others leave?"

"Since before I was born," Eelco replied. "The cities got overrun with constructs and we had to purge them out. The situation was deemed untenable."

"Why?"

"Anyone can be replaced," Eelco replied. "Even the army."

Ivasaar breathed out. "We have a treaty with the Aken. Fought them ourselves. Not anymore."

"Who made this treaty?"

"Wise people," Ivasaar replied and Eelco smacked his lips unconvinced. "Sorceresses' and generals. The King of Wetull."

"Were they compromised?"

"I hope not. You think the Aken might try something again?"

"You are quite tall and appear significant," Eelco remarked with a grimace. "However, your words are foolish. No one forges treaties with the Aken; it's wiser to ally with the Alafern, who are essentially undead demons."

"You possess a great deal of knowledge for someone so young."

"The last three years I've read many books from the Library. There's a wealth of information left behind. I visited the city twice," Eelco responded, making a weary gesture indicating his desire to return to his hut. "I have food cooking on the fire."

"Ah," the starving for a while Milatar interjected, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "Master Eelco—"

Ivasaar interrupted him. "Can you guide us to Irde?"

"Irde is far too distant, sir," Eelco answered. "There's nothing there except Constructs and the Alafern. Perhaps a wandering wyvern."

"We also have trained wyverns. We keep them from wandering. Their riders do," Ivasaar added pompously as this subclass of their society fascinated him growing up. All young Zilan dreamed of riding a wyvern. Well, most surely… "I saw them in the Den about... ten years ago. Quite the sight to behold."

"Oh? How many?"

"Seven? Not all were present. Just the younger ones."

"Hmm. Only the larger ones can fly over the mountains. None of them are trained and our people stay clear from them or whatever you meant," Eelco replied with indifference.

"What mountains?" Ivasaar inquired very intrigued, and the human teenager turned to face the southeast, pointing it out to them.

-

Three weeks later

Seventy kilometers west of Kaletha Lake

The road to Irde

Kaletha Triarchy

"How many people?" Ivasaar asked Milatar who had just cast the 'long eye', the only skill he'd learned as a ranger before he'd been cut. Truth be told, those joining the navy or general adventuring were those failing to prove their worth in other skills or learn another trade.

"Four. Another two wearing some kind of straw hat, standing in the shade behind the large building.

"It's a barracks," Eelco told them. The only one riding the donkey, since it was his. A hole in Ivasaar's boots right through the sole, a painful reminder to the miles they had travelled on foot. The land was nice for the most part though, especially near the large lake.

"Those in the open sit at the table. Black-skinned humans like him," Milatar added and went back to work on the raw potato he was munching on to replenish himself. He'd gotten Eelco to agree to trade him food for small magic tricks on the road.

"Citizens?" Ivasaar asked. "Left behind perhaps."

"Constructs," Eelco said from atop his donkey and started rubbing at a lightstone they had given him in exchange for his father's bag and tools to make light. He couldn't, as it didn't work in the day, but the kid was stubborn.

A stubborn character, Taranir used to say to Ivasaar, is like a persistent vine. It keeps climbing unless you uproot it. Taranir was a Zilan with many issues.

"I don't know," Milatar murmured in between chomps. "I've seen constructs on wall reliefs. Four arms, weird faces, all of them beefy. Them ain't it kid."

"What are they doing?" Eelco asked.

"Sitting around a table? Talking? They look like humans."

"Yeah," Eelco said. "Look again and they'll make the same moves or mannerisms for hours. These are not war-constructs."

"What do you mean?" Ivasaar asked and gestured for Milatar to try again.

"Are you serious?" Milatar protested. "Can't we go and talk to them? He might be pulling our leg here Iva!"

"Sarco-Carasta create for war –not much else- and you can easily spot them. They rarely move unless it is to attack. The higher-functioning constructs of the Elders of Galith are much more sophisticated and are used for espionage or infiltration. They can learn a trade, strike a conversation with you on the street and plan things for themselves. But if they are amongst themselves they are completely disinterested and just pretend they do something, when they are not. Like talking, gesturing or sitting at a table by the road, inside an empty city."

"Bullshit," Milatar grunted, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Read this in a book?" Ivasaar asked.

"By Vice-admiral Van Calcar," Eelco replied.

"An important man?"

"Middling, but ambitious. His father went to prison for dealing with the pirates."

"How do you know?"

"Archon Hoff says it in his own book," Eelco replied.

"Alright, we'll rethink our approach," Ivasaar decided with a grimace. "Hide the donkey. We'll make camp here and try to enter the city's periphery during the night."

"Eh, it's not a good idea," Eelco argued.

"We told you already," Ivasaar countered. "We can see in the dark."

"So do the Alafern," Eelco retorted. "Better to take them out now."

"You ever killed a construct?" Ivasaar asked, not in the mood to start a new two-hundred years war whilst visiting Mistland.

"I have one weighted down with rocks under my docks. He's probably dead by now. It's been a couple of years at least," Eelco replied. "At some point I need to dive down there and get my father's good harpoon back. It's stuck in him."

"Right," Ivasaar scratched the back of his badly sunburned neck thoughtfully, using his middle finger. He managed to cut himself in the process as his nails needed some serious clipping. "You think any official might still be around in there? A Duke? A king?"

"We have no king, but lesser titles exist between lords and merchants," Eelco replied. "The cities are ruled by an Archon, one for each city, and a senate of ninety, which are people from prominent families from all three cities. Irde, Sessi and Ikete. The real power hides in the senate and not with the appointed Archons in the Triarchy. Even so, every three years a vote is cast in the senate and a new Archon gets to rule."

"What is this ridiculous system?" Milatar grunted with a visible shiver. Milatar was a staunch Imperial and supporter of Baltoris. Ivasaar who was much older had a fondness for Ninthalor. War king and all. "A republic?" Milatar added crooking his mouth.

"Well, we used to only have the council," Ivasaar started.

"Fuck the witches' man and them islanders' weirdos," Milatar cut him off. "Moored at Coal Isle once and got robbed blind afore I left the blasted ship. Borrowed coin to visit a brothel and settle my nerves and the whore tied my arse on a bed 'to play kinky games' and left with everything I had. Even my clothes! Tattooed black bitch!"

"Uma Port?" Ivasaar queried a little perturbed, since the Queen had a lot of troops stationed there to crack down at the Thieves Guild's activities.

"Mori Osto," Milatar grunted. "Back in 2980. My first fucking purse gone."

"Yeah, it's pretty nasty there," Ivasaar agreed. "Heard it's difficult to keep gold coins safe though. Never been myself," he glanced at Eelco who was digging into his nostrils with the pinky finger, still atop the donkey and added. "Black-skinned lasses give me the creeps."

"Great arse on her though," Milatar nodded letting out a deep sad sigh. "Divine hips—"

"That's enough mate," Ivasaar stopped him as he had heard the story a hundred times in the two centuries he knew Milatar. Every couple of years it came up in conversation again.

"I got to warn the kid," Milatar protested.

"I don't see how he has a chance to bed a Mori-Zilan," Ivasaar grunted and unsheathed his shortsword. "Like ever. Unless we make it out of here."

"Irde has a naval yard," Milatar offered hopefully.

"Good luck finding a ship. I didn't," Eelco crashed his dreams of escaping Mistland. "I looked and even if we got lucky and something is left behind, you can't steer a ship with only three people."

"So you want to come with us then?" Ivasaar asked changing the subject and looking for a way to keep the teenager out of the coming scrap. "What about your hut?"

"I told you mister Ivasaar," Eelco replied stubbornly. "I want to be an adventurer, but not here. Better to do it on Eplas or Jelin. So I'll see this through, behold where it shall take you."

"What's wrong with trying your hand in Mistland?"

"Eh. You are about to see for yourselves," the teenager replied and reached for his custom spear.

-

They did see.

Firsthand.

Eelco stuck with Ivasaar for some of it. As long as he could anyway, which was a long seventy years. Milatar was just unlucky in the end. His friend got killed by the Aken later that same day. A century after arriving on Mistland, Ivasaar was alone. For several years he traveled as a stranger amidst the slowly crumbling ruins of a lost civilization. Mostly harmless Aken explorers arrived each season, sometimes war-parties sent by the Sarco-Carasta. Those ventured south for the very distant mountain range separating the Great Desert from the lands of the Triarchy.

None of those constructs or their Aken handlers returned.

Ivasaar found more humans during his travels, but they didn't last long and after some decades no more humans roamed the lands. Unless they were life-like constructs or the elusive Alafern. Some beasts he knew from Wetull, some he didn't. Once in a while the Zilan would spot a wyvern flying over the ruined roads and gigantic cities –Irde stood massive and Eelco told him Sessi was even bigger with its three ports, with the sprawling Ikete standing a colossus amongst its sisters. 'Sessi has Archon Est Ravn and Uher's priesthood, they control everything there,' the books in the abandoned libraries said and Eelco verified. 'But Ikete's Archon is always the most interesting. One of the De Weer, the Van Durren or the Van Oord families.' Ivasaar reached Ikete at some point, but Eelco was long dead from old age by then, and the city had too many constructs living there to feel safe.

Some of them strange even amidst their counterparts, solitary and calculative. 'Free spirits' as Marisha –one of them- had told him. Or she meant unchained, as Ivasaar's knowledge of the Aken jargon was rudimentary and she didn't speak any Common or Imperial.

A stubborn soul sets a goal for himself, Taranir used to say. Then sets out to make it happen. He doesn't shy away from challenges, retreats before difficulties or asks the gods for favors.

Ivasaar was capable of much of the above, yet he lacked the mental toughness of the Elderborn initially. Thus, he sought the gods help, their aid, for an escape out of Mistland. It didn't take him long to come to that conclusion either. From that initial skirmish on the fringes of Irde, Ivasaar realized this was the most unwelcoming place for anyone to inhabit.

Ultimately, young Eelco had been correct from the very beginning. It's wiser to seek the thrill of adventure elsewhere.

Anywhere.

Or find yourself the right partner.