Amar adjured Minara to stay as long as required to recall her forgotten thought. So Minara remained in the vale of Southern Doud, in the company of ever-loving Amar, until she could better grasp the nature of his character; thus, fulfilling the quest of Anthine the wise.
Then at last, one evening the sky was darkened above the mountains afar: ominous plots were brewing, and Minara knew it to be the workings of the vengeful Halla in some matter. “What do my eyes see?” she asked aloud. Continue reading “Amaranthine – Part 3: The Rakkishi Attack”
Anthine was soon upon the place where parting trees gave up for the dwelling of the man called Amar. The home was most humble, if ever such a dwelling could be called thus. Built from sturdy logs and stout boulders, Anthine couldn’t help but think that the woods itself had crafted the abode for Amar.
The house was built at the upper end of a gentle hill topped by stone like a misshapen crown. To the side was the paddock for the sleeping herd, the family of wooly creatures sleeping soundly and freely about, as if with absolute faith in the care of their master. From a hollowed tree at the home’s center rolled a lazy smoke, and from a small window glowed a cozy, orange light. Continue reading “Amaranthine – Part 2: The House of Amar”
Amar of the Southern Doud was a man of lowly birth and accolade, a quiet soul that lived beside the river Marandi of Kar. He lived alone, keeping careful watch on his flock of meerbochs. Amar often walked in the woods about the Marandi, even as the pale, mordant moonlight lit upon the trees and danced on the gentle waters. There was a peace in the quiet, a solace that Amar relished above all things. And he worked hard to preserve the life established for himself in the valley about the river of Kar. On several occasions, with resolute strength and courage, Amar defended his flock against the wandering rakkishi, which drifted from the dark of the night mountain heights. Continue reading “Amaranthine – Part 1: The Man of Kar”
The gracious Anthine looked down from her perch at the Citadel, dressed in the fairest gown of light and pearl. Her hair, as dark as the night, and dressed in points of light as beautiful as the stars, flowed from her shoulders.
“When will you learn, dear sister, that to care for those people is folly,” admonished the strong Destin. He joined her upon the miranda, and gazed out over the plains of Kar. “The brethren have long ago decided to leave the mortals to their useless lives. What use have we to care for such creatures?”
Anthine eyed her brother sympathetically. “There is more to the race of men then you give them credit, brother. In their perceived weakness, there is a strength to endure. It is admirable.” Continue reading “Amaranthine – Intro: The Contest”