Oriel's Destiny - Prologue

Uncountable moons ago in the distant land of Azralia dwelt a tribe of Foresters. This tribe lived a peaceful life amongst the forest trees, making their homes within  the forest canopy. They kept themselves to themselves, never venturing from the safety of the dense forest, their land of fertile green sustaining all their needs.

It had been rumoured that the Foresters had special power, magical powers, powers inherited from Mother Nature. Powers of the Earth, the sky, and the forest were bestowed on only certain members of the tribe, and of those members, only the third born female child. Rarely, one of the special born is granted the immense power only Mother Nature can gift, the ability of rejuvenation. This child would be the third born of the third born, of the third born, the cycle of three.

Azralia's neighbouring land, the wastelands of Senreth, is governed by Lord Harnec. Harnec; an ancient from long ago, wizard of the dark, sorcerer of the night, purveyor of evil and suppressor of the people; ruler of Senreth by use of his black powers, and seeker of the Azralia secrets.

Many times Harnec had summoned his demonic hoards to seek out the Foresters, to locate their hidden canopy dwelling, each time they failed, each time his black arts failed to puncture natures protection spell, and the Foresters remain hidden from his all seeking ebony eyes. Harnec had survived for decades through the manipulation of dark incantations to stave off death, but with each passing year death draws closer. For him to survive, the acquisition of the rejuvenation power became an all encompassing hunger.

Then one day, after searching deep with the catacombs of sorcery, Harnec's oracle, the wizened decrepit witch Sela, stumbled upon the answer to Harnec's desire. She found the scroll of life, an age old parchment cast from the fabric of nature herself, upon which is inscribed the incantations to undo all of nature's spells; a Grand Grimoire.

It took Sela the span of sixty moons to translate the ancient scriptures of nature into a tangible spell; several times she'd concocted potions, cast spells and incantations; each time she failed. Each time the threat of death loomed more closely over her; Harnec is neither a patient nor a merciful tyrant. Then one night she sought the darkness, the depths of her own tarnished soul, and found the ancient words she required to complete the spell of undoing.

And so, on the cold morn of the sixth day of the tenth cycle, the armoured hoards of Harnec's demonic legion stands abreast the hill rise overlooking Azralia's plush and fertile blanket of woodland. Centre in the line of his grotesquely adorned troops, atop his spiked laden steed sits Lord Harnec. Cowering in her master's predominance, Sela holds forth the Grand Grimoire, raises the ancient parchment skyward, and begins speaking the sacred words of undoing.

"EGO dico super copiae copie of nox noctis, temerarius meus lacuna; operor meus bidding. Vis takes suus tractus, iam tractus exsisto laxo. Permissum ut quod Vis servo exsisto semotus. In nomen of Atrum Angelus ego requiro per nomen Diabolus. Laxo Vis vallo."

*translation
"I call upon the forces of the night, heed my words; do my bidding. Nature takes its course, now course be undone. Let that which Nature protects be removed. In the name of the Dark Angel I demand with the name Satan. Undo Nature's defence."

As Sela recited the incantation the heavens turned from bright to dark as ominous lightning enthused clouds rolled across the sky. The wind howled and stirred up a storm. Harnec's army looked skyward watching the thunderous clouds as they passed overhead; each had been told to stand their ground until the cloud had passed. Each soldier had been given the command; kill all but the children under the age of seven, and the Forester Elders.

Though Harnec knew the cycle of three had been born, he wasn't sure when or who the third born, of the third born, of the third born was. Better to take all the children alive and the Elders than to risk slaughtering the prize. The Elders would be tortured into revealing the cycle of three child, and once they did the rest would be sold as slaves.

The demon cloud rolled over Harnec's legion casting its dark shadow over the down slope of the hill. Bolts of blue-white lightning cracked the air, reaching down like burning fingers to strike the vibrant green grass, cutting a charred channel as it moved. The grass curled and died as the cloud moved over it, it's killing shadow devouring nature's life. When the demon cloud reached the forest threshold it slowed; a pungent odour of sulphur tainted the air. The ground betwixt forest and Harnec's warriors is now nothing more than a crisp charred surface of burnt sullen soil.

Harnec looked on, his ebony eyes not leaving the sight of the cloud; his soldiers, eager for the kill, waited for the order. For what seemed an eternity the cloud just hovered at the forest threshold, as if waiting to pounce on its unsuspecting pray.

Then it began.

The soil turned ashen, leaves withered and shrivelled, roots are dragged from the earth, branches crack, bark crumbles, and oaken trunks splinter as the grand forest of Azralia perishes under the onslaught of dark magic.

The forest's canopy wilts and dies; the demonic cloud rolls across its once beautiful panorama leaving in its wake a charred and desolate degenerated shadow of its once former glory. Now with Mother Nature's protective cloak burnt away, the Forester's dwellings could be viewed.

Having passed its brutal judgment, the demonic cloud disperses. Harnec looks out over his minions, raises his gauntleted hand; a hollow horn breaks the silence, and Harnec's hoards charge, a sea of howling armour clad beasts storm down the hillside, eager for blood and savagery.

Lord Harnec doesn't leave the hilltop; he sits regally on his black armoured charge surveying his legion at work. The witch Sela stands watch on his left, on his right stands his loyal banner carrier. Screams of pain and death reach out on the morning breeze, the harrowing calls of dying Foresters as Harnec's killers chop and hack all they see. A wrinkled smile cracks Sela's wizen face; she is pleased with her work this day, and from it will reap what she truly desires.

The one sided battle doesn't take long; the carnage subsides and bodies are strewn where once greenery flourished. Lord Harnec's bidding had been done, the Foresters were no more; all save the children and three Elders were slaughtered. A few, less than the fingers of a hand managed to avoid death by cowering in earthen secret pits.

A female Forester lay seeped in a pool of blood and mud; a mother whose wounds will take her life, but she accepts advancing death in the comfort of her knowledge that the day before she had sent her daughter Oriel, to stay with her grandmother far away from Azralia. She will give up life knowing her special child will continue to live free from the clutches of Harnec. As her life slowly ebbs nearer to her joining nature's eternal garden she remembers the events of yesterday.

She's woken early from a troubled night; a night full of foreboding and vision. It was nothing new to her; she'd had many such nights where the call of deep peaceful sleep turns into the harbinger of things yet to come. For she is three of two, born with the power of oracle. Usually her visions gave warning with time to prepare, but this last one, this one final vision foresaw the demise of her kind. She knew there was no escaping the destiny of the Foresters had been written. 

She knew by the following morn Harnec's legion would be on the brow, proceeded by the bringer of death. She knew all but a few would perish, and that she would become one with nature that day. But within that terrible vision, hope did spring in the form of Oriel. She knew it had to be done. Oriel is the special one, the three of three, born for purpose other than this world; she must be protected from the evil that seeks her.

And so with mind set in her task, she did place a few special items into a pouch; a talisman with the power of journey, a skin bound journal that within its encrypted pages holds the truth, and a slither of root from the grand tree of Azralia, to remind Oriel in time to come where her roots began, and to one day hopefully replant that which has been destroyed. She secured this pouch to Oriel's arm then handed her over to one whom she could trust. This then would be the last day she saw her daughter; a tear formed in her eye as Oriel was taken, but she knew her child is destined for greater things.

The pain from the jagged sword barely touched her. Her eyes flickered slightly as she looked up to see the grotesquely clad soldier. His eyes stared at her as he twisted the blade, the look of enjoyment firmed embedded in his pupils. Yet strangely she held no malice for this beast that ends her life, for she now moves to the plains of Mother Nature where she becomes one with the world. 

By the end of the day Harnec and his legion were closing on his castle; his fortress of darkened depravity. Yet Castle Harnec did not outwardly give this impression, but an impression of royal elegance. Proudly stands Castle Harnec seated firm upon brow of hill; its high sand coloured walls topped with battlements, surrounding an inner sanctuary of four peaked towers of burnished bronze. Its arched gateway adorned with pennants fluttering in the wind. Each bronzed tower is topped with the standard of Lord Harnec. Balustrades of oaken brown spiral each tower, leading from battlement to spire. On three sides of Castle Harnec are sheets of purest green, while on the fourth, below a sheer drop cliff sits the churning depths of the ocean.

In the far off village of Foath, several leagues across the border betwixt Azralia and Senreth, a traveller knocks on an aged woman's door. The frail old woman answers, and sees no one save a small bundle left on her doorstep. She leans down to unravel the bundle and finds a child within, attached to the child is a pouch, and on the pouch a hand written note. Though she knows before reading, who this child was, for the woman is Emma, Oriel's grandmother. Emma knows what must be done; she must above all else protect Oriel, keep her safe until such time as she comes of age, and begins her journey along the path that was determined long ago. First thing Emma did was change Oriel's given name to that of Esme; no more will Oriel be spoken, until the time comes for the child of three to take her rightful place in the world. Emma would watch her, slowly help and teach her when the time was right, it will take time, but for now time is on their side.

Emma was wrong in her thinking though, for just under three and one half years later the village of Foath fell to the warriors of Harnec. Foath was besieged and burned, the villagers, those who survived were taken captive, and amongst them were Emma and Esme. They were taken to serve within the kitchen of Castle Harnec, where Emma held onto the secret of Esme, but knew eventually, when Esme came to fruition, they would have to run.

And so, this is Esme's story...


"Oriel's Destiny - Cpt 1"