From Beyond the Void

The dark malignant form stood tall over the elf as he expertly twirled his sword through the air. He swung it now, directly towards Yilven as he shrieked his lordly name, “Azariah!”

Yilven awoke with a shudder. He was soaked from head to toe as he lay still in the muddy puddle. Yilven looked up into the dark night sky as heavy raindrops fell on his face.

He’d had that dream again, the one he always had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. All dreams had a meaning. Most were good meanings and of trivial matters too, but some were bad omens and could end in terrible results.

Yilven was almost sure his dream was a bad omen, for each night it came to haunt him. He knew that the only way to find its’ meaning was to visit the interpreter whose name was Somnio. Somnio was one of the great spirits or Orindi.

The Orindi were sent during the creation of the world called Quenta to govern and protect its’ people. They reside in the Hall of Herous on the island of Herous. Herous is located in the center of Quenta where there is a hole. The island is held in the middle by eight land supports and between each support is a gap where the waters of the Nelenfia Sea fall.

There are seven Orindi in all Somnio being the Orindi of dreams and visions had the power to interpret them. Somnio visits people in their dream state. Bellua is the Orindi of all wild animals and beasts. The Orindi of trees and all other plant life is Arbusti. Ardor is the Orindi of flames and all sources of heat. The Orindi of Sea and water is Ponti. The Orindi of wind, air and sky is Ventus. The last of all the great spirits is Sidereus, controller of stars and atmospheric conditions.
The great spirits hardly ever came when called upon but came when they themselves sensed the trouble. So far Yilven had received no visits from Somnio or any of the Orindi but couldn’t accept the fact that there was nothing wrong. He had concluded that the only way to settle this was to travel to Herous itself, and that is what brought him to where he was now laying in the rain at night watching his zairmach, Rollark, shiver in the cold.

“Well, I’m rested enough,” thought Yilven, “so, there’s no sense in lying here when we could be gaining ground.”

He called for Rollark, who stood up to his full height and stretched his wings. The wings of a zaimach were too small for flight but when the creatures reached their maximum speed they were essential to help maintain its’ balance especially when turning. Their strong scaled wings could even help protect itself and its’ rider during battle.

Zairmachs themselves were a cross between a horse and a dragon. They had the long legs and posture of a horse, and the rough scaled hide of a dragon. Its’ head was also that of a dragon but with a shorter snout and much less malice in their eyes.

Rollark trotted over to Yilven who then mounted him and galloped off at a rapid pace toward their destination; the northwest cape of Nearous in the country of Kelmar. Cape Nearous was as close as you could get to Herous without leaving land and Yilven specifically chose this course for one reason. The Sea of Nelenfia, which covered all of Quenta with water, was dangerous for those on route to Herous because the waters draining through the hole created a strong current that pulled travelers into the void.
Yilven was aware of this risk and fully accepted it and he knew that to overcome it he would need to procure one more thing than just a boat at Nearous. A strong and reliable rowing team.

Yilven finally trotted up to Cape Nearous and alighted from the exhausted zairmach who was panting heavily. He softly whispered an apology in Rollarks’ ear for having gone so long without a rest. Rollark let out a gentle bray as he nodded in understanding.
It was early morning and the rising sun shone red against the sky as if bleeding onto the once white clouds.

Yilven tied up Rollarks’ reigns near a feeding trough and left him to rest, then walked up to the entrance of a pub and stepped through the worn wooden doors.
He looked around the dim lit room to see that everyone was looking at him.

Yilven wasn’t an uncommon sight for an elf. He was tall with pointy ears and shoulder-length blond hair. He wore a red leather tunic with sleeves coming to his shoulders, black trousers, boots, and a very dark green, velvet cape and carried nothing but a his bow and a quiver full of arrows, both of which were strapped around his back.
Yilven sat down for a drink and addressed everyone, telling them of his grand quest and his plans to travel to Herous and to his surprise he found six others willing to come with him, each of them were also in need of help from one of the Orindi. Yilven was even able to rent a terrific boat from at no cost but as he was leaving with it he heard the owner wish him good luck but in a very grave tone of voice. He was only given it free out of pity it seemed, but it was too late to even consider turning back. Rollark had been left under good care at a stable so as for the moment the elf’s heart was content.

Yilven and his crew departed from the cape the very next day into the black waters that were filled with millions of tiny yellow lights. These lights represented the stars and the black represented the outside space and as this water emptied at Herous it would become that once again. For it had been stars and space before, until it entered Quenta from the sides of its’ flat, oval shaped, disk-like form.
The first peg of their journey was rather uneventful and their hardships were few but as the neared Herous they could feel the current begin to pick up. It soon became hard to row and the vigorous currents were uncontrollable but luckily they managed to row ashore one of the eight land supports.

Yilven knew at once that the reason for their safe arrival was that they were wanted there, but if the Orindi already knew of their troubles then why had they received no visits? The only way to find out was to talk to Somnio and even while at Herous the only way to talk to him was to fall asleep so that’s exactly what he did.
As Yilven began to dream he found himself in the hall of Herous which was beautifully designed and just plain massive. Then he heard a strong voice say his name. It was Somnio.

“I know of your troubles,” Somnio said, “in fact I know of all your crews’ troubles but the reason none of the Orindi could do anything was because the trouble was being caused by Azariah, the one from beyond the void. He wants the power Quenta to be overthrown so that he can claim it for himself, the Orindi are powerless over this but you, being the one who had the vision of him, are connected to his power and can stop him. He can sense you though, so he’ll be coming soon. Good luck.”
Yilven awoke and standing tall over him was a dark malignant form expertly twirling his sword, but the elf had seen the exact sword movements before in each and every dream, so, he knew exactly where to place the arrow that he had quickly notched upon his bowstring.

Then as the sword was swung directly towards him, he let the arrow fly and just as Azariah began to shriek his not-so-lordly name it stuck him directly in the heart. He staggered backwards for a moment then shattered and disappeared.
Yilven smiled, he was a hero now and he had just saved Quenta.