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In the Beginning - A Fairy Tale [Nov. 27th, 2007|02:52 pm]
NaNoWriMo Fantasy Writers Unite!

nanofantasy

[out_totheblack]
A friend of mine suggested that I needed a fairy tale to set the stage of the world, so I wrote one.  It is now the introduction to the story.  BTW, I now have 43 or 44,000 words.

 
Sunder
1. to separate; part; divide; sever.
2. to become separated; part
 
Reave
1. to rend; break; tear
 
Réafian
O.E. reaver
 
Nef
O.F. the safe place where the faithful are held; nave (of a church)
 
Faren
M.E. to travel; wander
 
 
In the Beginning
 
In the time before the sundering, they were one people. They were the Réafian, reavers who road between the worlds on great steeds traveling on the light of the moon. Reavers and plunders, they helped themselves to all they wanted, sometimes settling for a span, sometimes moving quickly on, their slaves and spoils in train.
 
Then, one day, they saw something strange: the dark light of a black moon. It echoed through the worlds, moonlight interposed on moonlight. Black and pulsing, it called to them. So, they rode. World after world leaving a wake of death and destruction behind them, they followed the light of the black moon to its source, until they found it, a baleful ghostly doorway in the sky as bone white as death. Their horses choked and prancing, they rode closer to the gate on a moon path lolling like the tongue of a great beast tired from the hunt, Through that glowing archway, they rode. There, glistening upon the great tongue like ropy saliva, were froths of blue light and red.
 
And upon their traversing through the gate, they rode into a bright day of summer. Their horses covered the plain of purple grass as far as could be seen. The riders milled about in confusion in the sudden daylight. Looking up into a blue sky, they beheld four full moons as bright as the summer sun: one, the one that had led them here, was as black as night; one was a brilliant blue; of the last two, one was the color of heart’s blood and the other bone white. From the moons and from the land came great emanations of magic and power. This was a singular world like no other that they had encounter in all of their travels nor was there record of such in the histories of their people.
 
Now in the band was a man called Devin for he was a poet and bard which gave him great standing among the Réafian who valued such things. In his heart, he felt this world a good place to rest for many were weary of constant war and travel. Devin spoke to Cahal, the leader of the Réafian, of giving the people respite. Cahal was of a like mind with his bard and called for camp to be made, and so the Réafian settled and went no more a reaving.
 
Several years passed and during that time the four moons rose and set. They moved in their celestial dance across the heaven each having a different affect upon the people depending on phase and combination in the sky, but never again were they full and bright in the light of the sun as on that first day.
 
Then there came the day that the wise among the Réafian said that the moon path of this world was closing. Since they had traveled in on the black road, on the black road they must leave. The people must be gone by the time that the black moon waned or be trapped here.
 
Here began the sundering of the people. This was a good land of great power. Many were tired and wanted to live in peace, they said, no more to reave or burn, no more to enslave or plunder. 
 
But Cahal would not hear of it. You would become as the cattle we feed on was his reply. And such was his pride that he could not leave his folk behind to so demean themselves and so demanded their deaths for the Réafian could not be spoils for others.
 
A great battle ensued that split and divided the land and the people. For many days the Réafian fought against each other as the black moon slowly waned. Then, on the last possible day, the wise opened the ghost door of the white moon. Cahal hastened his followers through the door. There, on the plain, he turned in the direction of Devin and using the wind to carry his voice, he promised to return for the Réafian do not leave their people behind.
 
Unbeknownst to him a great multitude lay trapped in a mountain vale. He thought them crushed for Devin had sung to the land and rose up a mountain in his fight against Cahal.
The forsaken heard their leaders voice on the wind promising a return and their hearts were light. To the west they traveled as far they could across mountains cold and near airless. There they found an unsettling, dangerous land. 
 
Devin’s mountain, jutting high at the edge of the plain, had a great effect upon the magic in the land, where once it coursed like a great river, now it was dammed. The mountain cut the magic in half from east to west. To the west it backlogged causing eruptions and surges changing all that it touched, to the east it seeped through the mountain and surfaced like sodden earth, one with the land through which it seeped. Farther to the east still, the magic dried up or only randomly emerged from where it was deeply buried and quieted, not felt on the surface
 
Left behind in the exodus were the slaves gathered from many other worlds. Devin said to them be free and fear no more from the Réafian. The slaves had little to no magic of their own and so chose to live in the east, beyond the mountains and the great plain, in places most similar to their homes.
 
From the sundering, the remains of the Réafian took new names for their peoples and each folk adapted in different ways to their home. Devin’s people traversed the great plain and mountains according to the weather and called themselves Faren which in the old tongue meant traveler or wander. In time, the land became their mother and they took strength from her.
 
The others called their refuge Nef, a safe place for those that hold faith, and so they become the Nef and their greatest city was Nef’aren for they had traveled and wandered to that place and believed that one day the Réafian would return to reclaim their lost children. In keeping with the ways of the reavers, the Nef forayed to the east and made war, killing all in their path until, after a great battle they were pushed back beyond the Rock Mountains and the Faren stood guard on the Sea of Grass for the east, but ever was their conflict.
 
In the west, the land shaped the Nef, and, in return, they changed and adapted to their demesne. No more were Nef and Faren one race, but two, and as the eons passed they grew farther apart in manner and power until all resemblance to their filial race was lost, and indeed should their fathers come upon them again, they would not be know, but would be as strangers to them
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: out_totheblack
2007-11-28 02:26 am (UTC)
Thanks. I probably spent way too much time on getting the wording just write. I'm at the coffee shop right now trying to get some more work done.
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