Artanis

It is a place based on 5th century Britain, divided into four kingdoms. Each one is ruled by its own King, who in turn is subject of the High King, Cadern Ap Caddock II.

Innis Deo – Isle of Light – Seat of the High King

In the center of Artanis the three northern rivers join to create a lake, which surrounds an island. It is here that the High King resides.

Tuatha, the Northern Kingdom

The north is home to miners, skilled weapon and armor smiths.  A great mountain range marks the border of Artanis – The Torrach Mountains. Nobody, who tried to cross the mountains, has come back to tell the tale. It is said that Dragons still roam far above the world.

Ear, the Eastern Kingdom

Dark woods, marsh land and dry prairie make the east less than inviting. Yet, a lot of people are drawn to the kingdom, because the grand, blue ocean beckons. The main export of Ear is Fish and Horses. Fishing vessels arrive in the thriving seaport of Cala during all times of the day. Here, their goods are being unloaded, weight, salted and transported to every corner of Artanis. Horses actually thrive on the Southern Plains and are valued highly by the other Kingdoms.

Deas, the Southern Kingdom

Large farms dot the fruitful valleys. The sun sets a bit later here and rises much too early. Harvest time calls for celebrations. A straw man burns to appease the Goddess Dana and ensure another successful season next year. Most Southern folk are rather superstitious and who will blame them? They live the closest to the magical barrier, although most have never seen it and never will.

An Iar, the Western Kingdom

90% of the Kingdom is covered by a large forest. Wood cutters transport their logs using the extensive river system of Artanis. 85% of the buildings are made from An Iar timber. Only the castles of the four provinces and the High Kings large palace complex are built from stone. Rumors circulate that here, amidst the towering trees of the Western Forest, the El-Shee have taken refuge.

Avaness

Avaness has been cut off from the rest of the world, just after the Great War between El-Shee and Humans. Shea used the last of her magical reserves to erect a magical barrier between the worlds and therefore ending the war. The people soon forgot all about Avaness, the land of the El-Shee, as it drifted further and further from conscious thought. Only a few remember the lost realm.

Even before the magical border cut it off, it was a perilous journey into Avaness. The paths lead either through Ardan Draca or the Carga Forest.

Ardan Draca – The Dragon Mountains – Western Avaness

Strange spires of granite rock cover a vast area. One cannot cross over those grey mountains, but must follow the labyrinthine paths, in the hopes to cross the Valley of Fate and reach a large area called Boglach.

Boglach – Swampland – Western Avaness

The Talach Burn has its early beginnings in Ardan Draca, but not all the water flows evenly towards the south. A multitude of small streams are naturally diverted underground through caverns. The water then seeps back through the dirt in the western part far below the mountains, forming a swamp. Large, lichen covered trees dot the landscape. Sharp, hard grass mark the edges of a few remaining paths weaving through the treacherous area.

Cagar Forest – Whisper Woods – Eastern Avaness

A dark, old forest stretches along the eastern border of Avaness. Trees grow so close that the forest’s    density allows only sparse sunlight.  Strange creatures inhabit the twilit region of the ancient woods. Not much is known about this region, since most travelers avoid it and rather take their chances following the Ceobanach Burn north and then head west towards Ardan Draca. If a traveler is lucky enough to survive the woods, they will enter the Wastelands.

Wastelands – Eastern Avaness

Black rock formations litter the landscape.  It’s a hostile environment, unable to sustain life. What was once a fertile plain, is now just a reminder of a long ago battle, fought with magical force.  Ugly scars mar the ground; large and small fissures weave through the cracked dirt, expelling hot steam. This in turn covers the whole area in a thick fog, hiding Tur Eolas in its center.

Tur Eolas – Tower of Wisdom – Eastern Avaness

Once the center of learning, the tower has fallen into disrepair and stands forgotten. Here the El-Shee were educated in the use of magic. The tower consists of various levels of instructions. The pupil would enter the lower levels and learn about the use and power of magic.

Dorcha Raon – The Dark Plains – Central Avaness

The Dark Plains take up much of Central Avaness. A long time ago, long before the great war even, these plains were fertile farmland. Lush, dense grass covered the area and served as a great source of feed for a variety of livestock. Now, like most of the land, it is an unforgiving place. Neither grass, nor weeds will grow here; all that remains is dark, dead earth.

Siabra’s castle stands like a black sentinel upon a hill on its western edge, close to Ceobanach Burn. Even the river has difficulty crossing this terrain and its waters are a mere shadow of the strong current that began far to the north in Artanis and winds its way south through Avaness.

 Sàmhach Woods – The Silent Woods – Southern Avaness

To the far south of Avaness, near the western edge, ancient trees grow tall and green. It is the last vestige of verdant life in this forsaken land. The Silent Woods are a haven in a dark place. No harm will come to the small and large woodland creatures that have fled the magical devastation. It is silent, because no magick will penetrate its bounds and no battle cry has ever echoed through this hallowed place.

Ard Tursachan – The Great Stone Circle – Found within the Silent Woods

It is said that a great circle of stones protects the forest. However, not many have laid eyes on it, for it is found deep within the woods. It is the only magick found here and only those who are chosen to be Sheelana – Earth Mother and Protector of Avaness, will find their way to it. Many covet the power of the life giving magick and have tried to seek out its source.

Nenya placed two steaming bowls of porridge on the table. Boann, her foster mother, watched her with a smile.

"You've certainly grown into a lovely young woman, my Sweetling," the older woman said.

Just as Boann finished her sentence, they felt a distant rumble.

“By the goddess, here we go again.” Nenya knew that they had only a few moments before the ‘earthshake’ would reach their little hut. She quickly took the pots of the table and secured them inside a wooden crate, which they had fastened to the floor next to the table. Their meager belongings were stored in such ways that the frequent ‘earthshakes’ would not have any destructive effects.

Boann huddled beneath the sturdy oak table and Nenya crawled down to join her.

Then the earth began to shake. It started with a gentle swaying motion, but grew stronger within a short while. Dust filled the air, as the walls of the hut began to rattle, following the violent movements of the ground. Straw from the thatched roof soon mingled with the rushes on the floor. The pots in the crate banged against each other, as if to pound out the rhythm of the wild earth. Stacked fire wood tumbled to the floor and began to jump up and down with each jolt of the quake.

Nenya moved closer to Boann, who put her arms around the girl.

“The shaking grows stronger every time,” Nenya huddled closer into Boann’s embrace.

“Aye, I’ve felt it, too. Something is a stir. If I could only establish a mind link with yer mother; we need her guidance now more than ever.” Boann frowned and shook her head at the futility of it all.

“Mother,” Nenya whispered.

The shaking stopped and they left their shelter to survey the damage. Besides the logs on the floor, everything seemed in order. Nenya began re-stacking the wood into a neat pile and sneezed when she stirred up more dust, while Boann picked up the two pots and set them on the table.

“Well, the porridge and the tea are spoiled,” Boann said, while she picked bits of straw from the pots.

“It’s my fault, I should have covered the crate,” Nenya admitted grudgingly, without pausing in her task.

“Don’t be so hard on yerself, Sweetling. I did not think of it either. We are living in the times o’ the shadow. Small things are easily forgotten.” Boann said quietly, and then she looked up and caught Nenya’s eyes. “Remember though, never lose sight of the things that truly matter.” She held Nenya’s gaze for a moment, before turning back to the spoiled food in front of her.

For a moment, Nenya’s breath caught in her throat. For a split second Boann didn't sound like herself. It was as if someone else spoke through the old woman. Nenya shook off the feeling, but wasn't able to completely dispel it. Quickly, she finished stacking the wood and joined Boann at the table.

 “What do you mean, Boann?” Nenya leaned towards her foster mother and took both her hands into hers, as if to ensure her beloved Boann was still here was real and not just a shell or projection of something that wasn't.

“Remember what I’ve told you about my vision?” Boann asked.

“Aye, you saw the face of my mother, who was swallowed by a great shadow. All that remained was a wasteland,” Nenya recalled with a shudder.

Boann nodded, “I can feel it growing stronger. Olc Dorchadas will lay our kingdom to waste if nothing is done to stop him.”

“Olc Dorchadas? Who is he? I don’t think I’ve heard of him,” Nenya asked with raised eyebrows.

“I’m not surprised. It’s an ancient name for “Evil Darkness”. Many cycles ago, during the time of the Great War, he was one of the leaders of the El-Shee; A force to be reckoned with, to be sure.”

“What happened to him?” Nenya couldn't shake the feeling that his story wasn't quite over yet.

“I don’t ken, but rumors spread shortly after his disappearance that he had vanished, just like Avaness," Boann said and sighed, "Just like your mother," she added quietly.

“Are you trying to tell me, my mother is trapped in the lost realm with a... a monster?" Nenya called out, as fear crept into her heart.

"Shh, calm yourself Sweetling," Boann got up and pulled Nenya close, stroking her hair, until she felt the girl relax.

Ashamed for her outburst, Nenya picked up her chair and murmured an apology. Once they both were seated again, Nenya thought for a moment and then looked at Boann.

"You said those were only rumors. What do you believe happened to him?” She asked, while steeling herself for the answer.

Boann leaned back and thought for a moment. Then she moved her chair closer to the table. A portend quiet settled over the small cabin.

“I think he never left Artanis. He remained here, waiting for his chance to work his evil.” Boann looked around as if simply saying those words would conjure a past menace.

“But why now? Why did he not strike when Artanis was still weak from the war?” Nenya asked with raised voice, frightened by the thought this evil could actually exist in her world, yet relieved it wasn't locked away with her mother.

“He was biding his time, regenerating his energy. The El-Shee worked great magick back then and purged the land of its power. It also works to his advantage that magick has been outlawed. He knows we are helpless,” Boann exclaimed and stood.

“The last generation who had the touch o’ the power is dying. Only young and untrained ‘Druis’, such as yourself, remain. Ye can’t get proper training anywhere, not like in the auld days, not like that,” Boann added wistfully. She turned, gathered the pots and walked outside to dump the contents into the bushes.

Nenya watched her quietly. She knew most of the old stories, but she never recalled Boann talking of an evil darkness. How could such knowledge be forgotten? Did others still recall this tale? More so, would they connect it to the current state of the land? Then another thought crossed her mind, was he born El-Shee? Boann mentioned he was a great leader during the war, but where did he come from?

“Boann,” Nenya called after the older woman, who stood just outside the open door, an empty pot in each hand. At first Nenya thought, Boann had not heard her, for she stood with upturned head, facing the woods, listening… for what?

“Boann?” Nenya repeated and walked up behind her foster mother. She wrapped her arms around the woman and rested her chin on Boann’s shoulder.

“What is it you are thinking, auld mother?” she asked quietly.

With a sigh, Boann turned and squeezed Nenya tight for a moment. “I am thinking that it’s a beautiful day and we should gather some herbs, before winter sets in,” she said and handed both pots to Nenya with a smile.

Nenya noticed the smile didn’t quite reach the older woman's eyes. Boann remained troubled, but now was not the time to press her further.

After helping Boann harvest herbs, roots and berries, she busied herself bundling and storing the provisions. They hung the herb bundles from the rafters and after she finished, Nenya quickly washed herself, put on fresh breeches, a soft cotton shirt and a leather jerkin. She slipped into her subtle leather boots and headed for the door.

“I’ll be back afore supper, Boann,” she called over her shoulder to the older woman, who simply nodded in acknowledgement. Troubling thoughts occupied her mind and she had to share those with someone who could offer a different perspective. She had to go see Call, the High Priestess.

The sun stood at its zenith and only a few white clouds drifted lazily across the blue horizon. It was a sunny day, yet its warmth could not dispel the chill in Nenya's heart.

Nenya tried to picture her mother, based on Boann’s descriptions. Tall, slim, green eyes, bright red hair, a gentle smile, but all she saw was her own image, mirrored in a window, as she passed the temple on her way to Cala’s house. The High Priestess might have some of the answers Nenya sought.

In her heart, she knew that somehow, somewhere, her mother was still alive. She could feel her. Well, not so much now, but when she was younger, her mother came to visit her. Thin tendrils of magick would slip into her room, surrounding her, cradling her and feelings of love flooded her senses. For once, Nenya would feel completely safe and secure in an uncertain world.

These visits continued throughout the years, but Nenya felt the magick grow weaker each time, until it came no more. She had never told anyone of those nightly visits, not even Boann. This was something she wasn’t ready to share with anyone. These brief moments were all that Nenya had of her mother.

Deep in thoughts, Nenya crossed the small plaza in front of the temple, when suddenly the front gate burst open. The El-Shee enclave, where she lived ever since the war, was well hidden in the center of the Great Forest of An-Iar. The Glen of Monrylee, named after the river that bordered the settlement on the west, had been selected after scouting several sites. The thick forest and the river banks gave adequate protections, but Kael Faolan insisted on a fence, which was completed during the third cycle of the new age. The El-Shee’s had been cut off from Avaness, after Shea raised the magickal barrier, to protect both Realms from further bloodshed.

For now, the displaced settlers had carved out a new life for themselves, while waiting for “Thamihaudin”, the home coming. It was rumored that another El-Shee enclave existed in Tuatha, far to the north, but none of the Glen Monrylee El-Shee had ever traveled that far.

“Nenya,” Liam, one of the guards on duty, called to her, and pulled her out of her reverie.

She turned towards the man and walked over to the gate. Only then did she realize someone was hurt, bad. Keitha, a scout, stumbled towards Liam, clutching a growing read spot below her right shoulder. He caught her before she fell to the ground and Nenya didn’t wait for any instructions, but ran as fast as she could, back to her hut.

“Boann, Boann,” she called, trying to catch her breath. “Keitha’s hurt,” was all she added, while she reached for Boann’s medicine bag.

“Go, go, I’m right behind you,” Boann said and hurried after Nenya, who led her to the gate.

By the time Nenya returned, Keitha had grown pale and her breathing was rather shallow. They carefully shifted the woman, so that her head rested in Nenya's lab, while Boann cut away the blouse, to examine the wound. Bright red blood spurted from an area, where an arrow had pierced the skin.

"Put pressure on, right here," Boann instructed Nenya and pointed to a spot just above the bleeding wound.

"Who removed the arrow?" Boann asked with a stern voice, without looking up, while she tried to staunch the bleeding.

Nenya glanced at Liam, who fiddled with his hands that still had Keitha's blood on them.

"She asked me to," he finally blurted out, yet his face betrayed his feelings of regret.

Boann slowly turned her head, until her eyes met Liam's.

"Never remove an object from a wound, no matter what it is, until you call me," she said and after a deep breath, she continued, "Keitha might die because of your foolishness."