Swathen

By Seth Giolle

Senglene, Lord of Dashtall. He’s a man of legend famed for drawing gold from dry earth. He’s seen by some as a god. This is his tale from glory to shame. But not all goes dim. The Dark Riders, the Green Sword, and the introduction of a world’s soul - even in the most troubling times when all seems lost, there’s courage and a will to overcome. And for those who refuse to surrender to dark times, there is always hope. This is the fourth book in my Prequel Stories series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365354977

Seth Giolle

Seth Giolle was born on a small, rural farm in southeast Ontario. After Travelling throughout Canada in all its splendour, he once again makes Ontario his home.

Book preview

Swathen

Prequel Story 4

by Seth Giolle

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Prologue

History tells of an age when the world knew true calm. It was ruled by a good True King Ellor, and dragons filled the skies with all their colourful wonder. But darkness blossomed and flourished.

An evil wizard known as Auk Tria Yus is recorded as having spread potions and spells that turned friend against friend. The fiend crafted three magical blades and brought on the world’s first Darkening that burned the skies and spawned legions of dark wizard armies and bands of assassins that preyed on the innocent.

And Grio.dyness rose to power with his barbarian clan known as the Wolf. His barbarians met True King Ellor’s armies on the wasteland around what would later be his castle stronghold. They waged one final bloody battle, and he slew True King Ellor and took the throne to begin his equally dark rule.

There are other legends of those times: a man who could summon gold and built a city of wealth in the desert, what was then plains. There’s the tale of the fall of Sheava, a town and castle that equalled the True King’s castle. But fell nonetheless to unknown enemies.

These are the tales of those times.

These are the truths behind those tales.

Truth few have known before now.

Chapter One

The Draw of Gold

We simply need more drainage on the eastern banks, Encalorr explained, drawing an invisible line along the side of the three dimensional map between them.

Streets indented the grey, clay sculpture, cutting the map into small squares with tiny rectangular houses built up along each. The open-air temple where they’d been debating all morning sat, raised, at the centre of town. On one end of town, the crescent-shaped stadium had been built, rising in stages upon the brown stone base.

To the other end were the gardens. They’d been carved to scale. Every detail was there: pools, flower trim, garden paths, and boulder walls. The clay map-sculpture ended an inch beyond the last streets and drainage ditches, but Senglene’s mind added the endless plains just beyond his city’s borders. As both comfort and haunt, the Dashtall was always there.

Then we’d need to dig more trenches near the stadium and gardens to balance out the increased flow, Senglene complained. Too much more digging in between or too close will make the ground too unstable. In other words, it isn’t as simple as just adding more drainage to the eastern banks.

You’re blowing things out of proportion, Encalorr mused, grinning playfully. We have people to please.

Senglene shook his head. Wiping his long brown hair behind his ears, he stood straighter and closed his eyes. His dull silver shirt and pants were smooth and soft. The animal whose hide had been sewn into his clothing had once been everywhere in the lower catacombs under their city. Now, they were all gone. Lifting his lids, bright blue eyes looked out from a worried face.

I’m not blowing things out of proportion, old friend, he impressed. It isn’t just where we dig. What you and Kollan are missing is that this city, with the existing water table under this portion of the Dashtall isn’t able to support more delving without serious damage to the surrounding area - or loss of what we have now. That’s a simple fact. Encalorr laughed the words off, Senglene slowly shaking his head.

Encalorr wore long red robes. He crossed his arms and shrugged with ease. Short black hair rested upon a well-tanned forehead. The old man beside him, Kollan, wore robes as well though his were a dark blue. His hair had long gone silver, and the lines along the face and hands were telling of a life long-lived.

Simple is what you do, Encalorr replied, grinning wide. Why are you making this so difficult?

It just is, Senglene assured him.

Encalorr looked to Kollan. The old man hadn’t spoken for a time, not since near the beginning of the meeting. Senglene mused that all the old man seemed to do, for the most part at least, was watch. It was sometimes quite unnerving. Kollan noticed Encalorr’s attention and smiled politely.

I’ve been thinking, the old man offered. For the time, we can dig further in, one or two streets. That would alleviate some pressure off the banks. It won’t hold the back-up in the long run with the influx of people and increased sewage, but for the short term, it will at least help.

Encalorr frowned, as did Senglene.

Too many people - maybe that was the problem.

Encalorr shook his head. This debate tires me, he groaned. Pass the word to the crews, Kollan. We’ll start with that for now until we decided better. The old man bowed, turned, and quietly left. What’s holding you back, Senglene? Encalorr beseeched, walking up to the nearest column and leaning on one arm against it. The city, streets, houses, and people were laid out below and before him. When we first got here, you helped build a monument to your life, to our lives. You made something in this place that counted for something.

It still counts for something, Senglene countered, walking up beside his friend.

Of course it does, but nothing worth treasuring stops growing. This city is going to get larger, and we’ll need to adapt with it. The people aren’t going to stop coming. Senglene had no response. Sighing, Encalorr walked to the main steps. Stopping, he turned and looked around. You need to do something about this temple, he added. It needs colour. Maybe some tapestries, gems, chimes. It needs proper costuming.

Encalorr disappeared down the steps to street level and mixed in with the many people criss-crossing town in their off-white and brown robes, some wearing wide hats while others bore none. There were wooden carts and baskets. There were young and old; red, black, and pale skin tones as well as those who fit somewhere in between.

Senglene looked at the temple’s smooth, grey rock under foot and simple white columns. He liked keeping the place simple. It was a nice contrast to the world outside.

At base level, he told himself that his city was still simple, like any other town. A city was its people, not its gold or acclaim. It’s the people that matter, he whispered. He looked deeper and the frown returned.

The people were still there, yes, but this time, he allowed himself to see the golden necklaces and earrings. The rings of silver, jade, and diamond sparkled in the suns’ light from above.

Three suns could make gold glimmer quite well, but the spectacle didn’t stop there. It was engraved into wooden archways in front of more prominent houses, and it lined doorways. There were golden pots and crystal vases in the windows, and gems shone from inside those houses, all those chandeliers, works of art, and carvings.

There were places in the streets where the brick was golden as well. Faces and names were engraved wherever you walked. This was his city, and whether he liked it or not, it was growing. The people just kept showing up. What was he to do?

Shrugging, Senglene took his off-white cloak from the plain wide chair at the far end of the temple and tied it into place. The winds played with the hoods and clothes outside. He’d need it. He only looked to the three-dimensional map-sculpture once before leaving. He needed to be somewhere else.

My lord. Senglene returned the bow. The man and his wife, both wearing multiple necklaces and rings smiled and passed on the right.

Workers swept the street as the passersby made their way from house to house. Other groups cleaned and polished the golden statues that lined the streets near the temple. Wind and rain could do a lot of damage over time.

My lord, a woman said, bowing as she passed. Senglene watched her walk away for a moment. Her light green robes left little for the imagination, and light brown hair flowed over her bare, seductive shoulders. He could almost pick up her scent even after she’d faded into the crowd.

The simple pleasures.

My lord. Senglene nodded to the couple to his left and retook to his path. Where was he going? He had to stop again, greeting another couple and looking around.

He found himself headed towards the stadium, and he made a correction. He should visit the east banks first. Duty drew his eyes to that side.

Beyond the bowing people in their cloth, gold, and gems, beyond the three men polishing the last statue to his right, beyond those clay decorative houses, he could feel the plains reaching for him and his city.

The water table wouldn’t support more growth. The land was only barely holding on. It was almost on the verge of wilting into a vast desert. There was no changing what nature supplied. Yet for them to grow, the only option was to dig deeper. And further out.

Of course, it wasn’t just water to be considered. What else would be unearthed if he expanded the city mines down and outwards? What about the guardians and dwarves? There was also the balance of peoples he altered every time he delved into the land.

It wasn’t simple.

Sighing, he nodded and changed his path. It wouldn’t hurt to visit the east banks and see what was happening there. Maybe it would help with the decision to come.

He passed row after row of houses, the streets spanning out left and right in a majestic sprawl of gold and silver. Even without the statues, there was a glamour to just taking a walk.

My lord. Senglene bowed again, then three more times. Smiling, Senglene took it all in, and he liked his city. He saw its glory