The Orkfic Series

by Iluros

Prologue: The Orkfic Series

Clouds swirled in the skies, black as the swarms of birds flying about in it and crackling with ominous power. Together they blocked the light of the Sun and celestial bodies. Divine energy pulsed through Ancero as he willed lightning to form. Arcing from the firmanent, silver-white bolts surged into the attacking forces, incinerating the ravens and rendering their burnt forms into a fleshy hail that rained down upon the helmets and upraised shields of his Istari phalanx. No god dared to stay the destruction of this spell, no mystic possessed enough knowledge to counter it. His magic came from a higher authority. Black feathers and bloody forms littered all of the ground around, and more greasy ravens fell from the wrath of the heavens. Swift as they were, fleeing from Ancero’s retribution, he had still more power to unleash. Pursuing them with arcane sight, his storm heckled their forces for miles until but a remnant remained. And then they were gone, safe within their borders and protected by their brutal gods, as such they called them. At least, until the next time. He did not know who their leader was, but they were clearly acting on behalf of the Empire, so foolish in its futile plays of power and senseless violence.

Sighing, he surveyed the battlefield for the fallen. Ancero was still getting used to his new incarnation, one which he had never taken before. The Light Elves came from the realms of the gods, beyond the lands of Orkfia. For ages they had been content to watch the events of the world without interfering directly. It had only been when the demons had been released from their infernal prison that they chose to come into the physical existence. Though they were not entirely of this world still; their bodies unearthly and ethereal, it was enough to make them mortal, as the mauled and defiled bodies of the dead indicated. Even with every wizard under his command an asset, Ancero knew that you could only go so many, many lifetimes without the scratched faces and pecked out eyes all blending together and becoming an expected part of life. And if it was his fault for not being prepared, no one seemed to blame him. They never did, so in awe of his power. It was up to himself, alone in this world.

The tribes of these new elves were few in number. Still, the Elders from beyond had instilled in them ancient wisdom and lore, and their magic was strong. When he had died, from the age before, he had taken his one opportunity to try something new – and yet ancient. The cycle of death and rebirth had become stale. He had seen the side of every story, played the role of every character, remade himself time and time again endlessly. Alliances formed and disbanded, empires rose and fell. It had very much surprised him that there had been something he didn’t already know, and that was enough to sustain him.

“Order an expedition,” He ordered one of his bureaucrats; “I know we are close to it.”

The elf frowned at his cryptic words. Of course, they wouldn’t know. They never kept their memories over the ages, even these elves could not once they entered the world of Orkfia. But he would uncover the Library of Arathos. Much would be illumined by its lore. He had no time to waste, as he had so many times before. It was the first step, a key to unraveling the enigma of the Comet.

“As you command, Your Grace.” The radiant bureaucrat hurried off to convey the order. There would barely be enough time to bury the dead before the Istari would be on the march.

Entering the walls of his grand city, Ancero walked to the Academy district, observing the damages done to the buildings by the attack. Repairs were already on the way. The shining white walls of the towers came into view, colonnaded with alabaster pillars and set with reliefs of marble and silver. He passed through the outer cloister, allowing himself to relax. Sagely mystics gazed upon him serenely, though he knew how they really felt and did not care. The tall lattice doorways were laid open before him. Stairways spiraled upwards to the vaulted altars and airy balconies high above the rest of the city or the canopy of the forest.

“There is a message,” A young elf mystic bowed as he approached Ancero; “The Allies have called for a meeting in the World of Dreams tonight.”

Nodding silently, Ancero made his way to his Sanctum. Prestige was not everything; he had to climb the flight of stairs all the way to the top. Pristine, the Sanctum was warded by various magics that allowed no one but himself to enter. The walls were bare, though in a time before he would have lined them with books to humor himself. He no longer needed such props. Sitting, he waited meditatively to enter the World of Dreams. It was a sort of ritual, to expand his mind beyond his body to find the astral realm.

Enveloped in twilight and mist, it was here that he communicated with his allies from afar. He was not the first arrival. The translucent, incorporeal forms of Hairen and Svetia, a dark elf and an eagle, respectively, were huddled in counsel. “Greetings,” Ancero said stoically. “So, you are here now,” Hairen said, his voice an odd resonance in this place. Svetia watched him quietly, her eagle eyes both deep and sharply intent.

“Who has called us here?” Ancero asked, vexed by the situation.

“It is Blodir, he claims to have a plan,” Svetia answered, with the same strange echo.

Ancero’s frown remained. Blodir always was reckless, and had brought much ruin to his followers and allies. Not everyone learned from the past.

“I do have a plan,” A voice hummed from all around the dusky ethereal mist. Blodir’s current form was that of a man in priestly robes. Emblazoned on the white cloth was a golden sunburst – the mark of the pious Templars.

Ancero rolled his eyes and said nothing. This should be good.

“Long have the four of us defended our alliance from the ravages of the other mages. Only we can truly understand the significance of what I have to say,” The templar said sanctimoniously.

It was not exactly true, but Blodir had a flair for hyperbole. Ancero wondered what was going on in the physical realm. Surely it would be of more interest than airy rhetoric.

“The source of our power and destruction has long been the Comet, an instrument of Destruction. We had thought it was our only way to charge the power of the Guildstones, but we were wrong. The Light Elves have brought with them a new source of power into this world: the magic of Creation. With it we can dispel the Time Spell and destroy the Comet. The endless ages will be no more.”

Insane, Ancero thought at first.

“It’s been tried before,” Hairen spoke distantly; “And it was a disaster that brought misery and sorrow for all.”

“Of course,” Blodir responded dismissively; “Because we tried to fight fire with fire. Destruction can only bring about destruction. Our weapon shall be wrought of Creation, and through it we will Preserve Orkfia, once and for all.”

“You seem quite eager to die, Blodir,” Svetia said quietly.

“Maybe, but there isn’t much of a point in living anymore,” Blodir said harshly; “Time repeats itself. There is never any change. This is our opportunity to remake the world. I am going to take it, with or without your help.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ancero spoke, aghast; “For once, Blodir is actually right about something. Stunning.”

“Well, if you think so…” Svetia murmured thoughtfully.

“Then it is agreed,” Hairen concluded; “What exactly is your plan?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Blodir said with a triumphant grin; “First, we must learn to tap into this new source of magic. Ancero here should have a head start. Then we’ll have to wait until the end of this age to put our strategem into motion…”

The four talked of contingencies and elaborations, beyond space and time in the eventide realm. By the time Ancero returned, his body was tired and the sun was about to rise. He never got any sleep.

Only a little while longer, and then an eternal rest…

First published on the Orkfia-Portal.

Last updated: February 2012