Chapter I. The Beginning

THE MURKY WATERS of the Abyssmal Sea splashed loudly as they moved aside to engulf the fishing bait, and then all was quiet once again. A young Erudite swung his feet over the side of the new bridge, set down his pole, and leaned back on his hands. Minutes turned to seconds as he paused in silent meditation. Suddenly, he opened his eyes in premonition and grabbed ahold of his pole just as the fish took its first bite. He reeled it clear out of the water and threw it in his catch bucket as a man approached.

"Hail, Gallius."

Gallius looked up from his fish to see the man who had just addressed him. The man was easily recognisable.

"Hail, Master Miragul," he responded.

"How is the catch, my young friend?" the tall Erudite inquired.

"It is well, Master. Whither do You go?"

"I am heading back north to the City to conduct some research. Very interesting lost arts, thou wouldst be intrigued."

"Perhaps I will look into it after You finish. Good day to You," said Gallius.

"Good day."

And Miragul walked away. Little did either of the Erudites know what the future held in store for him, but Power would visit them both before their ends.


When first we came to Odus,
We were strong, and wise and bold!
The Erudites were as brothers,
In the brave days of old.

But as the days did lengthen,
And we took ourselves to ease,
Folk questioned and said, �why can we not
Do as we would please?�

�Is not all knowledge bountiful?
Will not the greatest come to fall?
Surely to study the mystery of death is,
The greatest challenge of all?�

But others held that Erud�s vision,
Necromancy did gainsay.
�Surely if were to search all things,
Then our minds would go astray?�

More heated grew the speeches,
More tension filled the air,
When passion grows, our reason shrinks,
Our intellect to impair.

As we grow hot in faction,
So in culture we grow cold.
And the fire and spirit of Erud fled,
From the glory days of old.

Now Erudite to Erudite,
Is more hateful than a foe.
And the dreaded word of Heretic used,
By those who would say no.

So those who pledged forward,
Fled the city of their birth.
And travelled further southwards,
To dig beneath the earth.

And there they gathered knowledge,
And their minds filled with hate,
For those they thought had drove them out,
And cheated them of their fate.

So the years passed in preparation,
And when they judged it right,
A challenge was sent to the Council�s heirs,
To muster their strength and fight.

So the mighty host of Paineel,
Mustered with spell and shield,
But in Erud the arts of war had slumbered,
And there were few to take the field.

The armies met in the forest,
Across a watery divide.
Only levitation, a swim, or a bridge,
Separated side from side.

Each surveyed their hated enemies,
With loathing and licking of lips.
Spells were readied, weapons gleamed,
Hands whitened on shield grips.

And to the forefront of Paineel�s army,
Came the mighty Cunart.
A Shadowknight of prodigious skill,
He�d vowed this war to start.

To the center of the bridge he came,
And defied the children of light.
�Your skills are small, your magicks weak,
You have no will to fight!�

But hark! The cry is Atos!
And lo! The ranks divide!
And the mightiest Paladin of Erud,
Comes with his stately stride!

Atos faced up to Cunart,
And scorn was in his eye.
�I�ll smite you dead, in the name of Erud,
And the gods that you defy!�

And Cunart looked on Atos,
His lips twisted into a sneer.
�I stand for the right, to find answers myself,
And freedom from foolish fear.�

�Then come fight me Paladin,
If you think that you are tough.
Call on all your strength, and cursed be he,
Who first cries �Hold, enough!��

Thus saying he rushed on Atos,
Who, nothing dismayed,
Girded his shield, and charged to meet,
With a fearsome clash of blade.

The two champions clashed,
And strove with might and main,
They smacked their swords, back and forth,
�Till the blood flowed down like rain.

And about them rose the war cry,
As the armies locked in fray
When Erudite fought with Erudite,
On that terrible, terrible day.

Arrows sped, and swords flailed,
Death wrought on every side.
But in the middle, of the bridge, only
Atos and Cunart strived.

While the battle raged about them,
The two struggled hand to hand,
And magicks zipped, and corpses piled,
Upon the blood soaked land.

Eventually, by mutual consent,
Their exchanges missed a pace.
Panting and gasping, they rested on their swords,
And took a breathing space.

As they stood there, all heated,
Though neither had his fill
They noticed that the sun had fallen, and,
The forest had all gone still.

And Atos� eyes widened,
For beyond his hated foe,
He could see the mangled corpse of Cunart,
Torn by a magical blow.

And Cunart could see noble Atos,
His face relaxed in peace
His breast was transfixed by an arrow,
His troubles all at cease.

And the champions gazed about,
At the carnage of the strife,
The many Erudites that lay so still,
Forever bereft of life.

And they realised as they looked,
At the bodies stained all red,
That the battle had ended, and the result,
Was that they too were dead.

Atos�s shade looked on Cunart,
And gave a mighty roar,
And straightaway rushed upon him again,
To resume the awful war.

And nothing loath at this,
The ghost of the Shadowknight,
Readied spell, and summoned skill,
And went eagerly to fight.

And though that war is ended,
And the weapons gone to store
The shades of Atos and Cunart,
Still clash in ghostly war.

When travelling, dear Erudite,
Listen carefully I pray,
For o�er the bridge, the whisper of the wind,
Still carries that dismal fray.

There Atos combats Cunart,
There night-dark meets light-day,
They struggle still, and always will,
�Till we find a better way.

Proceed to Chapter II: Gallius of the Gatecallers.
Return to the Story of Odus. 1
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