The Elema
If Nubina were sculpted from stone, she would embody the darkest shade of the most unyielding granite. Yet, beneath her impenetrable exterior, her soul draws in all things virtuous and illuminates even the darkest nights.
Danan. The Third Great Age. 3031.
silence as Jain and Nubina spar on the beach in the misty dawn light. In a whirlwind of silver, missed by the blink of an eye, Jain pirouettes, launching a lightning-fast counterattack on Nubina. His broadsword gleams, the shining blade whistling through the air.
Nubina swiftly ducks and rolls beneath Jain’s sword, raising her ngbaka star sword above her head to intercept his descending blow. She disarms Jain with a singular twist, his sword soars into the air before thumping onto the damp, sandy shore.
“Not bad.” Nubina rises to her feet, her skin glistening with pearly beads of sweat. “But you’re holding back.”
“It’s rather early for swordplay,” Jain shrugs, nonchalantly brushing the damp sand from his breeches.
“I told you, Jain. Nubina has the gift of foresight.” Lord Varesh sits by the dying embers of the dwindling fire. “You must rely less on your mind and let instinct guide you. She is more formidable than any opponent in the fighting pits.”
Nubina assumes a wide, two-footed squatting fighting stance. Her right hand grips her ngbaka blade, shielding her face, while a short dagger in her left-hand guards her rear. “Again,” she says, fixing Jain with a penetrating stare through the ngbaka’s hooked blade. “This time, don’t hold back.”
Jain retrieves his broadsword from the sand, limbers his shoulders, and closes his eyes. The humid air caresses his skin, and heavy beads of sweat trickle down his body. He takes a deep breath, and in the darkness behind his closed eyelids, thousands of dancing rainbow lights flutter in radiant light. His ears tune out the songs of birds and the howls of primates. All becomes silent; all becomes peace. A whisper, as faint as the softest breeze, touches his mind.
“There you are,” Nubina’s voice echoes in Jain’s mind. “I wondered how long it would take you.”
Jain drops his fighting stance and kneels in the sand. He grips the pommel of his broadsword with both hands, its tip grazing the ground. His arms form the shape of a cross, resembling those of a praying monk rather than a man poised for battle. He feels the world shift around him under the warming kiss of the rising sun. United with the world, he drifts into another time and space.
“Ready?” Nubina’s question echoes in his mind as she pounces forward in a flash of black, swinging her trailing dagger upwards toward Jain’s kneeling figure.
Just as Nubina's dagger nearly brushes Jain’s face, he rolls backward over the sand and opens his eyes, offering Nubina his most charming smile. “Born ready.” In a lightning-fast motion, his broadsword swings down from a high right attack, whistling a hair’s breadth past her cheek.
Nubina spins to her left, slicing at Jain’s exposed side with her ngbaka.
In a whirlwind of swirling metal, Jain parries her attack, stepping inside and spinning to her rear.
Danan gasps as Nubina and Jain engage in a silvery blur of clashing steel amidst a human tornado of shimmering silver. The air reverberates with the whistling of metal as the pair match each other, blow for blow, parry for parry. It becomes impossible to discern who is who. The air sings with metallic rings as Jain and Nubina move with a unified grace and unearthly speed. Their steps, a synchronized in a dance, anticipating each other’s every move.
Nubina feints to her left with the ngbaka, then pirouettes to her right, aiming a dagger strike at Jain’s neck.
Jain ducks the slice, and time groans to a crawl. He spins, then disappears in a popping flash of bright blue plasma light.
Nubina halts, her mouth agape, as Jain vanishes. The cold touch of sharp metal rests against the back of her neck.
Jain stands directly behind her, wearing the smuggest of smiles.
“What was that?” Nubina’s voice betrays both her amazement and annoyance.
“That was a rare gift.” Lord Varesh bounds to his feet with surprising speed and strides toward Jain. “Tell me, Jain, what did you see?”
Jain lowers his sword and scratches his head with a clumsy frown. “I’m not sure.” His voice trembles as he searches for words.
“You popped out of time.” Danan can’t hide the excitement in his voice.
“Don’t be absurd, Danan,” Jain says, wearing a sheepish grin below a flummoxed frown. “I, slipped.”
“Slipped?” Nubina crosses her arms with a disbelieving stare, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m just faster than I thought,” Jain finds his most nonchalant shrug and kicks at the sand.
“Modesty doesn’t suit you, Jain. Drifting is the rarest of all the Elema gifts.” He stares at Jain in puzzlement. “What did you see?”
Jain shrugs and makes a quick escape towards the smoking embers of the fire. “Imagine a world of bright white, where the wind pulls you to a different place.” Jain frowns to himself. “It’s like the wind guides you to the place it meant you to be.” He then reaches into the embers and plucks a skewer of wild boar meat impaled on a twig. He takes a large bite of the charred meat and chews it like a wolf at a fresh kill. "What?" He says through a mouthful of mashed meat as Danan, Nubina, and Varesh, stare back at him in silent amazement.
“You didn’t beat me, moon-flesh.” Nubina strides toward the fire and kicks sand over the embers. “You cheated.”
“Cheated? I beat you fair and square. I have you know; I am a master swordsman.”
“Next time, you won’t be so lucky.” Nubina says, arms crossed, with a sulking pout.
“Lucky! You should know, I have bested—”
“Enough.” Varesh wanders to them and reaches into his robes, plucking out the parchment. He unrolls it, his narrowed eyes scanning the symbols. “I estimate we are not half a turn away from the next river fork on the Hebend River.”
“The upper Hebend. Are you sure?” Nubina looks at the map with a confused frown.
“Quite sure.” Lord Varesh looks at her with intent.
“It’s a map?” Danan stares down in puzzlement as his eyes wander across a page of mystical symbols and glyphs. “I’ve never seen this language, not even in the rarest tomes in the Kabel Monastery.”
“In the first age, the Elim used archaic Elimish to communicate. Any man, given enough time, can decipher a map, but only an Elim mage can read our tongue.”
“We traveled across Avos, to a baking desert filled with cannibalistic bird freaks, just to get a map.” Jain joins the trio, feigning a look of indifferent curiosity.
“Not a map.” Lord Varesh’s eyes dance in amusement. “The map, Jain.” His voice rises with excitement. “I have searched the ancient kingdom of Goro my entire life, in almost every valley, every peak, and every cave. The location of Eldriven has always eluded me.” He places a hand on Nubina’s shoulder. “Twenty-seven great cycles ago, I searched for the ancient realm of Eldriven and found Nubina.”
“What in thirteen hells is Eldriven?” Jain shovels another mouthful of meat into his mouth.
“Eldriven is a cave.” Lord Varesh’s eyes glimmer with excitement. “Not just any cave, Jain. Eldriven serves as a gateway to other realms and hidden within this cave are the greatest of the Elim relics. The Elda Staff is the most valuable.”
“Valuable?” Jain’s ears prick, and he does his best to look disinterested. “How valuable?”
“There is no wealth in all the thirteen kingdoms combined to match the treasures in this cave.”
“Treasure! Lord Varesh, to think you drag me halfway across the world to be fucked by a bird woman and eaten alive by her inbred daughters. Treasure. Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” Jain squeals in boyish excitement, full of renewed energy.
“I was unsure whether Anut would part with the map. I exchanged the map for the rarest grimoires in the kingdoms. Anut is far older than even the Elim, and she was not always as you saw her. Once, she was a woman, a tribal elder, gifted with divine foresight. It was in these lands where Anut first lived, ‘Goro’ in our tongue. Her people worshipped Ana with blood magic.” He glances at Nubina. “From the dragon’s head, ‘Mount Gorochen’, follow the path of the dragon’s back, ‘Nyegyo,’ down the dragon’s tail, ‘Gongal’. Here, where the Gongal River forks with the Upper Hebend, you will find his mouth.”
“That’s it? That’s the map?” Jain raises skeptical brows. “Seems rather, vague.”
“Yes, Jain. That’s the map.” Lord Varesh does his best not to look impatient. “The cave entrance must be on the river’s fork, where the Hebend meets the Gongal.” He rubs his short, gray beard. “I suspected this, but the route was too treacherous for I alone to undertake it. Besides, not all things hidden wish to be found until they are destined.” Lord Varesh strides away from the group to the dugout canoe.
Jain bounds beside him with childish enthusiasm, fueled by images of a cave full of gold.
Nubina prowls behind Jain, still smarting from his victory.
Danan lumbers last, a hollow feeling gnawing at his insides.
The dugout floats on the Hebend river’s simmering tide as shallow white waters lap against the bow.
Nubina sits at the rear of the dugout, using the paddle to guide the canoe through the choppy waters.
The impenetrable jungle yields rocky beaches that climb imposing gray peaks. Dense green turns into desolate lands of scorched black. The call of the primates fades behind the rushing white waters. The bright birds of the forest all but disappear into a world of blackened mountain walls.
“What happened here?” Danan looks at the scorched lands. “What kind of fire is capable of such destruction?”
“Dragon flame.” Lord Varesh lounges, seemingly at home, despite the turbulent waters. “Ana laid waste to the lands of Goro in first age, consuming all with shadow and flame.” He fixes a stony stare on Danan. “This is what the world of Avos will look like should Ana prevail.” His gaze then drifts to a once fertile land of rich jungle, now black as the night and empty as the remotest desert.
“Why would anyone hide treasure in this place? Such riches are better safeguarded in Thiel.” Jain peels his allured eyes from Nubina’s breasts.
“Don’t be so absurd,” the mage barks in laughter. “The treasures of the Elim are no ordinary weapons. The weapons of light are for the Elim and their Elema guardians.”
“Weapons?” Jain’s perks up in curious excitement.
“Yes, Jain. Weapons,” Lord Varesh adjusts his robes and looks over the black, rocky shores. “The very first Elim created Eldriven as a sanctuary, a sentry post, the place to safeguard Ana, where our most powerful weapons would be accessible, should he return. Ana’s malice corrupted even the purest Elim to wicked ways. The cave was abandoned, and its location was lost to time. That is, until Anut came into possession of the map. We will be the first to lay eyes on such treasures in over two thousand great cycles.”
“What do these weapons do?” Danan fidgets, rocking the dugout from side to side.
“We can see such weapons as tools. Forged by The One himself, but they are not of this world. They contain The One’s essence, his force, with the power to destroy Ana should the need arise. The tools have a predestined purpose. It is The One’s will that they remained hidden until need arose. I believe that time is now.”
A heavy silence falls over the company. Amidst the galloping white waters, riverbanks of imposing black turn into towering sheer walls of black melted stone. The river narrows, and the current grows stronger.
“We are close.” Nubina’s body ripples as she fights the river’s current. “The river’s fork lays before the Hebend’s first rapids. We must beach before that point, or it will suck us down into the river’s churn.” She gives Danan a playful wink. “I hope you can swim, Danan.”
“I taught Danan to swim in mere moments.” Jain beams a charismatic grin.
Nubina raises skeptical brows and looks to Danan, who clings to the dugout’s sides as the white waters climb and splash down into the canoe.
“What happens if we miss the beach?” Danan, his face paling, casts Nubina a panic-stricken look.
“We swim.” Nubina looks down the raging river onto a vast swell of galloping white rapids. “All the way down the river to the Hebend basin.”
“There.” Lord Varesh points to a fast-approaching, narrow beach between colossal black boulders.
Jain grabs the second paddle, plunges it into the freezing white water, and paddles with all his might. The dugout fights the water’s current and edges against the towering stone face of the wall.
Danan scrambles from the dugout’s edge as it kisses a crude black stone wall.
A rolling rapid then plunges the canoe into a swirling chute, sending a huge shower of water into the narrow boat. The dugout shoots through a narrow chasm under an arching black stone gate, then spits out of the narrow chasm.
Jain paddles with all his strength away from the pull of a raging hole.
Nubina leans backward out of the rear of the canoe, using all her weight and power to guide them to an eddie near the narrow beach.
Jain clambers to his feet as the canoe approaches the rocky bank. Fearless, he jumps from the dugout onto the boulder-strewn beach. His footing clatters over loose rocks as he turns and reaches his hand back to the canoe. He finds a hold and pulls the dugout ashore.
“Not bad, moon-flesh.” Nubina’s voice shouts above the thundering flow of rapids. “Now what?” She glances at Lord Varesh, who makes his way to the shore.
“Now we find safe passage to the river fork.” The mage’s voice is drowned out in the river’s rage. He gestures to a narrow, rocky path that cuts in between mountains of giant black boulders.
Jain, full of energy, images of gold in his mind, sets off ahead, jogging through the narrow passageways.
Nubina strides close behind, Danan follows, and Lord Varesh takes the rear.
Stones roll and clatter underfoot as the walls of the giant black boulders close in around them. The full force of the river falls into a muffled roar, drowned out by the looming boulders. At the top of an enormous boulder, they look out to a barren land hewn from gigantic boulders the size of small villas. In between the basin of boulders flows a wide, shallow river of walking rapids, and further ahead, there is a dark and empty stone ledge.
An enormous, serrated cavern mouth roars from above the ledge, its mouth black as the deepest night, fanged with stalagmites and stalactites, resembling the mouth of a raging dragon.
“Well, fuck me.” Jain turns to face the mage with a nod of acceptance.
“Eldriven.” Lord Varesh scrambles ahead with urgent speed.
“Come on.” Nubina calls to Jain and Danan as she follows Lord Varesh through the boulder field to the lonely stone ledge perched over the river.
Lord Varesh stands on the ledge, gazing up at a cavernous mouth of stone fangs, poised to devour him like an insect facing the jaws of death.
“We should set up camp.” Jain looks up at the twilight sky; the first stars wink back at him through the falling dusk.
“Camp?” Nubina looks at Jain like a teacher does to a stupid child. “With what? There’s nothing here but river and stone.”
“Nubina is right.” Lord Varesh gives a solemn nod, looking into the cavernous black depths. “We must be quick as starlight and silent as the sunrise.”
The mage turns to face Danan. “This is no place for you, Danan. Stay clear of the water’s edge; we’ll be back before the first sunrise.”
“Why can’t I—" Lord Varesh places the Athanas Stone package into Danan’s hands.
“The Athanas Stone will keep you safe.” Lord Varesh’s eyes lose their sparkle, and a sorrowful expression clouds his face. “Danan, I’m sorry for having brought you all this way without much explanation. I hope you can find a time and a place to forgive me.”
“I don’t understand.” Danan’s voice trembles, nervous.
The mage places a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “To think how far we’ve come in such a short passage of time. Remember, Danan, the brightest light shines in the darkest night.” Varesh gives an exhausted sigh. “My father taught me that.”
Nubina cocks her head in curiosity, her eyes widen, as her mouth forms a sentence that falls silent.
“We press on,” Lord Varesh says, peering up at the majestic stars forming in the sky. “Your sword, if you will, Jain.”
“You can’t expect a man to part with his blade. Lucia and I have been—”
“You named your sword ‘Lucia’?” A hint of jealousy hangs on Nubina’s tone. “Who is she, this Lucia?”
Jain fidgets and pulls at the collar of his trench coat in a moment of awkward silence. He coughs, holding back his words. “My mother.” Jain’s face turns as red as lava.
“Your mother? You named your sword after your mother?” Nubina shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“Your sword, if you will, Jain,” Lord Varesh commands this time, “unless you wish to clamber around the depths of Eldriven in the dark?”
Jain reaches into his trench coat and draws his broadsword from its hidden sheath. The blade, with hundreds of rippling layers of folded blue steel, glints, razor-sharp, even in the failing light. Jain passes his broadsword to the mage with reverence.
Lord Varesh gives the blade a flick of his wrist, cutting through the air with a lilting hum. In a precise movement, the mage spins the blade above his head, cutting through the stillness of the night with a song of whirling metal. He then weighs the blade in the palm of his hand.
Danan’s mouth hangs open as Jain scratches his head in amazement.
“You don’t live an age of men and not learn a thing or two about the ways of the sword,” the mage’s voice falls into a mocking whisper. “I have you know, Lord Jain of House Adair, I am a most accomplished teacher.” He winks at Nubina.
“What?” Jain barks in surprise. “You mean to tell me you taught her?”
“Her?” Nubina punches Jain on the arm. “I have a name, and yes, my father taught me.” Nubina shakes her head. “Thielian men.”
“Thielian men?” Jain’s voice drops into a jealous whisper: “Just how many Thielian men do you know?”
Lord Varesh mutters unknown words that flutter up to the dusk sky. He runs his hand over the flat edge of the sword, and a bright blue plasma light ignites along Jain’s broadsword. A light without heat, bright enough to light the darkest of nights.
“That’s steel from Ashan,” Jain says with a pathetic squeal of distress. “Over six hundred layers of folded blue steel, forged by an Ashan Master Smith.”
“I am very aware of your sword’s history. I hazard a guess it belonged to someone else before you found it in the fighting pits.” Lord Varesh’s brows raise, and Jain falls into silence as the mage stares him down. “Now your blade serves my true purpose.” Lord Varesh’s voice drops, and he turns to face Danan. “We all serve a purpose, Danan. How we serve is how we are all defined.”
“High Priest Anon spoke those words to me before I left the monastery.” Danan’s voice falls into a thoughtful, restless mumble. He looks at his hands, weighing the Athanas Stone with growing anxiety.
Danan resists the urge to gaze upon the stone and instead sits cross-legged in the descending veil of silence and darkness. He perches, a speck of holy dust, on a slab of cold, black stone, staring into the cave’s dark jaws as he watches Lord Varesh stride towards the cave.
The bright blue light from the sword illuminates the serrated mouth of the cavern. Lord Varesh steps into the dragon’s jaws and calls over his shoulder to Danan, “Curiosity is a wonderful thing, Danan.”
The cave swallows Lord Varesh whole, as Jain and Nubina follow behind him.
The darkness steals the light.