The Epic of Duth Ghellian

IT CAME ABOUT IN THE SEVEN HUNDRED and FORTY-NINTH year of Ghiskin's reign that a certain young man arose whose name was Belock Cahliin. And Belock sought to kill Ghiskin, for Ghiskin had become very wicked in his lifetime and had slain Belock's mother and sisters. Now Belock set about his journey to kill Ghiskin in his twenty-fifth year and with five companions. There was Kinto of the Southern Thames, Genre from West Wooriah, Kitze and Kitzu the two brothers and Belock's dearest friend, Preimor Monkiru from the Northern regions of Koe. And these six set about their quest early in the morning when the sun was still resting on the horizon.Now in those days, Men had no dealings with the Elves, for the Elves were higher than Men nor had they dealings with the Dwarves or Goblins or any of the other Ghiites, for they were beneath Men. For Elves were born of Magical heritage to the daughters of Elyriah and the Ghiites were the creation of lesser beings and Men, who were once the sons and daughters of Umbhali had fallen from their once noble rank and into the mire of self importance and greed. The whole world was dark. And so it was in those days since the very beginning of the age.

CHAPTER I

       The morning air was still wet with dew and a gentle mist rested over the valley of Amun-Khedar. And it was still cool out when Belock Cahliin, son of Brell, son of Buri awoke in his tent with pain in his soul. He had been visited by a nightmare and a vision of things to come. He went outside before the rest of the village had risen (for it was the day of rest - Duliun). He girded himself with his woolen cloak and tied the rope at the neck to ensure it would not fall off. It was brown and had golden designs sewn into its hem telling the tales of his people, the Khedari. He did not bother with sandals this day for his heart was troubled. He stepped outside to the moist grass and dry dirt. And drawing a crisp breath, he prayed to Umbhali about the things he had seen in the night.And Belock went straightaway to the fields to tend his flock, for he was a shepherd of many sheep. And he took his staff and sat under the great Byrfen tree that rose up on the hill to the east of the village. 

       The day went on with nothing of alarm or note. And Belock stayed peacefully under the tree, eating fruit and singing songs and drinking wine made from the finest yellow grapes in the region. At evening twilight, Belock gathered himself and went back to his tent to eat and fellowship with mother and three sisters (for his father had died many years before and the duty fell to him for that was the custom for the people of Amun-Khedar. Now Belock Cahliin was a small man and there was nothing to be said of his stature or strength of body. He was reckoned by none to be a great warrior and fewer would have called him cunning or of sharp wit. But he was a good man and gentle despite his many weaknesses and shortcomings. Belock tended his flocks each day from the time of the first light until the last. His life was simple and that is precisely how he liked it. But there was coming a day when that would change, because nothing simple stays that way and nothing bland can remain so forever. And so it was with the life of Belock Cahliin, son of Brell, son of Buri of the Khedari people of the eastern hills.

       Now about ten weeks after Belock dreamed the dream which stirred him in the night, he saw from atop his hill a young woman drawing water from the brook to the north of his village in a clay vessel. And she wore a dress of linen and her hair was long and black as the night. And it came about that Belock saw her from that day every morning for one month before she turned her face toward him and their eyes met. And her eyes were brown. Now Belock was stirred within himself over the young woman, but it was his duty to tend his flocks and she was far away, even beyond the stone fence that encircled the village of Amun-Khedar. And so it was that she must remain distant and that if he should love her, it must be from very far away. It was summertime when the marauders struck. And Belock was on the hill. So he sounded the horn and the men of the village who were mightier than he came and defended Amun-Khedar. It was not a daily hazard, but the danger came about frequently enough that Belock knew it as routine.And then came the Black Days.

       Belock was atop the hill tending to his flocks as the sky went dark and the dark lord, Ghiskin visited Amun-Khedar ...