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The Great War
Written by Enly
Story by Enly & Roja
Edited by Annatira, Phildaburn, and Roja
Artwork by Roja
Chapter 18
"Oh! I'm sorry," Resia apologized profusely to the old woman she had just bumped into and helped her retrieve the cloth she had just scattered across the ground.
The old woman chuckled "Don't be concerned dear girl, why, most people in this city wouldn't pause for a second glance after running me over with one of their crude carts."
"Thats awful, I'm so terribly sorry. I should have watched where I was walking!" Resia had been staring about her at Whitestone City, all of it so eerily familiar, but so foreign at the same time.
As the old woman chuckled again and Resia stood up from where she had been retrieving the woman's dropped possessions, she jumped startled. She knew this woman! Resia excitedly began to say something, then suddenly the flicker of recollection she had experienced was gone. The woman's name had been on the tip of her tongue, yet suddenly it was lost again to the fog of her mind.
"Alright dear?" The woman asked concerned.
"Yes, sorry, I'll be on my way now, have a good afternoon," Resia smiled and began to walk on. After several steps it suddenly came back to her, the woman's name was Guinivere! She turned around to run to speak to the woman, yet she was gone, lost to the crowds. Resia sighed, trying desperately to recall something else about the woman, but none of it came back. She knew the woman, though. She was sure she'd known her well. Why hadn't the woman recognized her?
Tired and frustrated, Resia wandered the streets, examined items in the market, and stared upon the palace. No matter how hard she tried, no more memories came back. Not even another brief moment of true recollection, nothing at all.
Resia's trip from Tirnwood had been quiet and uneventful. Besides her encounter with the woman, her time in the city had been as well. Earlier she'd requested a room in a small inn off the market square and paid for it with the meager allowance of coins Siru had gifted her.
She watched the bustling colors in the market fascinated. White Stone City was full of every race. Resia had even spotted a draegoni visiting the city's magic shop. The city's white stones were hardly visible through the throngs of people and in places where they were, they weren't quite as white as expected. As the sun sank low in the sky and late afternoon began to drag into evening, Resia's attention was caught by something other than the blur of people and stone houses.
There was a crowd gathering in the market place. There had been a crowd before, of course, but it was milling about randomly: each person about his or her own business. However, there was order now. A circle formed around an individual perched on the edge of a fountain in the market square. It was a dark skinned human, dressed in armor and bearing a sword. It was only after Resia apologetically made her way through the masses of people that she noticed the dwarf standing on the ground, he appeared to be the man's companion. He too was dressed in armor.
"Go on! We don't want the stinkin' dwarves bringin' trouble to our city!" came a yell from the front of the crowd.
"Yeah! get out! The dwarves' problems are not ours! Let the little runts rot in their tunnels!" someone else called out.
"No! You must listen to me!" the dark-skinned human pleaded. "The dwarves in Mynadar are being overrun. They evacuated the weak out of the city across the river to the east and were forced to destroy the bridge behind the fleeing people. Most of the dwarves have crept into the caves! I know it seems far away, and it is, but the monsters are spreading out and causing problems. They are thinning rapidly, which means it will be easy to kill them, but we need numbers to scour the lands and defend so many places! You must help fight!"
"We don't want to get involved in dwarven troubles!"
"Get out of the city!" yelled someone.
"And take your dwarven lover with you!" added another, mocking laughter followed.
"Please! you don't understand! We must put aside our differences and fight! There is serious trouble brewing!" The man tried to plead with the crowd, yet they surged forward and Resia was shoved aside by angry humans. The mob saw to it that the man and dwarf were dragged out of the city, yet Resia could still hear him calling even as he was forced away.
"If any of you wish to help, come to Corren village! People are gathering there to fight the invaders! Please! Fight for your people! We must stop them soon!" The man's final words were lost and Resia wrapped her cloak around her as she realized it was nearly dark now and clouds had moved in to cover the few remaining rays of the sun.
"My my, whatever are you doing out alone in the dark?" A straggler that hadn't followed the mob came up beside Resia, he was grinning evily. Resia panicked slightly. The man was standing too close to her and his brown clothes were stained. His breath smelled of far to much ale and Resia chocked slightly: the stench was so repulsive.
"Good evening, sir," Resia stammered a hasty farewell and dashed away to the comfort of the inn, only a few buildings away.
The old innkeeper opened the door and welcomed her inside smiling. Resia had a strong suspicion the old man had been watching her from the inn. "That's a good girl. Trouble's brewing, mark my words and let the mob have me! They'll come to regret not listening to that man."
Resia peered over her shoulder at the dark, quiet streets. Just as the innkeeper closed the door, she realized she agreed, as did most of the people in the city. Everyone could tell something was wrong, but few wanted to admit it.
*****
Unolas trod slowly across the ground. The soft perpetual dawn light of Centau's glade was beautiful. It was as if the quiet green meadow had been locked in eternal sunrise. Yet the trees surrounding the crystal clear pond and grass were each in a season of their own. The trees were of so many different varieties no mortal could ever count. There was a cherry tree in blossom, an apple tree with the deep green leaves of late summer, an aspen with rich orange fall colors, and a birch bare of leaves yet beautiful nonetheless.
Unolas noticed in shock that Centau was standing quietly beside the pond, leaning on a staff.
"Should you not be resting Centau?" Unolas questioned as he approached him. Centau was an odd sight to behold, he looked to be very young, in the prime of his life, yet he looked whithered and dying. His frail hands clutched tightly at the strong staff to support him somewhat.
"I have had enough of rest," Centau grunted. "Acantos is near free again, I feel some life in him yet."
Unolas heasitated, he knew Acantos was the last Centaur, no matter how long he lived, Centau would die with him.
"I know what you're thinking, Unolas. I clutch to some false hope that I may yet live. I do not delude my mind with such falsities. But I will watch over Acantos, that poor boy. So young and he has already suffered more than he should have ever suffered," Centau stared forward, his eyes lost in something only seen by gods.
"Are you afraid to die?" Unolas asked abruptly. This was not what he had intended for this conversation.
"I am not," Centau said boldly turning to Unolas. "I may be a god who knew no pain and lived forever, but now in my weakened state I'm more lowly even than a mortal. I welcome the peace of death and what it may bring next."
"Gods cannot die!" Unolas cried out frustrated, then sat himself down on a rock near Centau. This was beyond his wisdom and he could not explain it, never before had he encountered something he could not explain like this. "If only we had stopped this sooner, this wouldn't be happening. Mortos has disturbed the natural order of things, this should not be occurring. It goes against everything we know to be true..."
Before Unolas could go further Centau cut him off. "And what do we know to be true, Unolas? I know this to be true, we have existed many countless centuries, guiding mortals. One thing they have learned and we have taught them: all things die. Whether it is the long-lived draegoni, or the smallest flower, death comes to all things. Why then, Unolas, do we believe it cannot come to us as well?"
"We are gods! We do not suffer like mortals do, we are not plagued by age and frailty, nor sickness."
"Then what am I plagued by?" Centau questioned, adjusting his grip on his staff and turning to see Unolas better. The once shimmering deep brown coat he'd once had was now a dull dark color, no luster remaining. Centau might be standing there before Unolas, speaking, but he was most definately dying.
"Your race is dead," Unolas muttered.
"Indeed it is, I am plauged by age, frailty and sickness. I am plagued by war and destruction. For I am a god of centaurs and the centaurs are plauged by these things. So too, then, am I. No Unolas, I am not afraid of death. Long had I taught the centaurs to treasure knowledge. Now I shall go where the knowledge of the gods cannot reach."
Unolas stood again and paced the grass beside the pond. He had come here to seek Centau's council, not debate the power of the gods.
"Locking away Mortos solved nothing," Unolas sighed.
"Perhaps not in your eyes," Centau countered.
"In my eyes? His armies have moved to the other continents and now try to overrun them too! How can it be that anything good has come of his imprisonment?"
"Remember, Unolas. Mortos, though not inentionally, has demonstrated to us how little we know of ourselves. He has shown that gods may not be as untouchable as we thought. Remember that even for a god, some things go unseen," Centau said quietly.
"What goes unseen? A few ragged mortals striving to survive and they happen to stumble across a centaur?"
"There is more to those mortals than you will admit, as there was more to Acantos than I once thought. But that is not of what I speak, search for truth Unolas, let your eyes see clearly the things before you. Only then will you understand all."
Unolas continued to pace quietly.
"You are the god of wisdom," Centau continued, "for wise choices have always been yours. Do not let yourself falter because you cannot see everything. Wisdom is not knowledge, wisdom is judgement and experience, wisdom is understanding. Wisdom, is knowing you need to make things right before you have truly realized how wrong they are. You have wisdom Unolas, that much is obvious. Now go seek knowledge."
Centau closed his eyes, he appeared to be in pain and his knuckles turned white as he gripped his staff tighter.
Unolas watched him concerned, yet Centau dissmised him. Unolas then thanked him for his council and left.
Centau seemed to know far more than he, yet he encouraged all to seek knowledge themselves, not be given it. Wisdom is knowing you need to make things right before you have realized how truly wrong they are, Unolas thought to himself. I'm right, then, he's telling me I'm right. Something has gone wrong, yet how can I possibly make it right when I don't know exactly what it is?
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