IL'NEK - BOOK ONE
PRELUDE/TRANSMISSION
CHAPTER I
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"Every great legend hath the most meek of beginnings."
- Kor'el Nar'th'e, Scribe of the Tek'th'e Confederacy
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The dusty wind passed over the arid rocks and barely living soil of the Ze'qar, or the "Great Without." In this vast expanse stood an image too pure to be reality, yet too plain and lifeless to be a mirage. The pool of water was not an oasis, just a small spring, bubbling out water from deep below the harsh unyielding ground. Along the water's side, two ironwings danced and courted one another, basking in the warmth of the merciless Ze'vat as it glanced up off the shining surface of the unmuddied water. Its pristine nature was, however, not destined to last, as a large caravan slowly crawled its way over the horizon and towards the pool.
High above the caravan, a lone banner flew. Not the flag of a government, nor of a people, but of a memory. It was worn and beaten, ripped and torn, and frayed from countless duststorms, and yet, somehow, despite - or perhaps, in spite of - that, it still continued to wave with its unflinching stature. The flag was red with a white circle, but it was not the colors that mattered. Rather, it was what was in the center of that circle: the Qar'ba, the ultimate symbol of Th'e religion and spirituality, reflecting in it not only the traditions passed down since their forebears, but also the internal and external facets of the faith which had drawn them into the Ze'qar in the first instance.
As the caravan slowly arrived at the spring, it began to grind to a halt and make preparations for camp. Those who had arrived first hastened themselves with arranging the accommodations that they would utilize during their time there. Meanwhile, as the rear of the caravan began to slow, a small girl was softly shaken awake by her father. As she opened her eyes, she smiled at him. She slowly pulled herself awake as she stared at the caravan's banner in the distance. She recalled, in particular, an occasion in which she asked her father, with all the sincerity of the naïve, why they still used such an old, dirty flag. At the time he sighed and looked off into the distance, but the next day, he recounted to her a story:
"Long before we roamed the Ze'qar," he began, "there was once a time where we did not roam until the end of our days."
"There was once a time when all the Th'e were distinct and warring. Each one a separate, aggressive tribe, constantly fighting for power over small oases of fertility and life among the barren landscapes of Ereth'e. Of those tribes, eight began to slowly emerge as the most powerful, growing through alliance or subjugation. These eight tribes, however, grew to be caught in war not by a desire for natural resources, but because of petty squabbles. Eventually, as those conflicts subsided, war continued on for generations regardless, with the leaders of each tribe attempting to fabricate rationale for war.
"In that dark time, however, a light emerged from the smallest of the eight tribes. Tek'ze'var'eil. She began to speak a message of honoring the spirits of the world and turning away from the darkness of warfare among our people. With this message, she assembled many followers and, despite attempts to stop them from joining her, the Eight Tribes were incapable of resisting spread of her message.
"Nearly six-hundred years ago the Great Council was assembled, where six of the tribes named her the prophet, but this was not popular among those with dark hearts, who sought for themselves to become powerful, so they fought against the Six. They were, however, not successful, and were defeated, forever cast into the deserts of Ereth'e - these are the darkwings which stalk the Ze'qar on the most evil of nights.
"With the Six Tribes now joined together in peace, all was well for a long time, and many succeeded the First Prophet, but men with vile hearts will never disappear.
"The most powerful warlords of the Six Tribes began to desire the power that the current Prophetess held. It was in that greed that they deposed her and cast her out into the Ze'qar, along with her most loyal of allies. Thus, forty years later, we continue to wander this wasteland, calling out to the Spirits for the day that we may someday return to our brothers and see the Prophetess once again hold her rightful place as the light which joins the Six Tribes."
In the way that a child often holds such hopes, the small girl, Raz'qur'eil dreamed that she might someday help to return the light not only to her people, but to her father's darkened face. What she did not yet realize, however, was that the chains of fate were already moving, and that her role would not simply be that of a supportive bystander...
. . .
