The sweet smell of Lemurian rice and carp flooded the room, and Xirius awoke from his slumber. He was a small boy, nimble but healthy, spending his free time painting the vivid memories residing in his mind. Born to a Klyros father and a half Lemur-half Klyros mother, Xirius lived in the Lemurian village of Wysthinae, just south of Solkhakhum, the major city in the area. Wysthinae being close to one of the Bronze doors, it was frequented by monsters and as such had a large garrison, comprised of many races, Klyros being one of them. Xirius? father was one of the best weapon smiths in the area at the time, and spent many long hours crafting the finest halberds and swords for the warriors to fend off attacks and keep the region safe.
From birth, Xirius was a very active child, first crawling outside through the door made for their pet humdroble, and later spending many hours wondering at the glories of nature, often spending the night outdoors in the middle of the forest. He learned quickly the use of fire, his father being a smith, and used this to his advantage in scarring off the smaller rats and gobble children that would have been problematic for an eight-year old boy in the woods. Xirius however was not the most socialable of children towards his classmates, but joined a fight club in an attempt to become more popular. He was often teased for being the teacher?s son, though more likely it was his own embarrassment at the stories his mother would tell about him while teaching the students. Nevertheless, Xirius loved both his parents very much.
Of course, his mother was not terribly keen on him spending so much time in hostile environments like the Arle forest, and was terrified to hear when he picked up a job as a crystal runner. But father?s will was way and he believed in letting the boy make his own mistakes, so as to learn from them. He believed Xirius would grow up great and strong, a natural leader, idealistic, possibly even becoming an Octarch. Parents love to dream about their children?s success. Xirius? father would spend a lot of time teaching him the ways of the world, and especially in sword fighting and smithing. Father was a bit of a paradox, being a Klyros, but naturally gifted in the red way which he used all to his advantage in crafting his weapons. He was also gifted in the blue way, and had a secret process of heating and cooling his iron to make it into the best possible. His father is still a well known figure and if you go to the village, or even to Solkhakhum, you will hear smiths talking about trying their best to match his skill.
When Xirius was about fourteen, his father was commissioned by the governor of Solkhakhum to provide 60 halberds, 200 swords, 700 spear tips and 1200 crossbow bolt tips for the guard there. Why the guard needed so much was anybody?s guess. Well, his father, while ecstatic about the trias he?s would get for his family, was not too happy about the workload. He decided he needed help, but there was nobody other than Xirius who knew the techniques, nor could learn them in time to still meet the deadline. So, father and mother talked about it, and Xirius was taken on as a full apprentice of his father.
Seven weeks later, when the commission was about half completed, Xirius was working on a series of bolt tips, his father napping off in the corner. He was about done when a spark flew into one of his eyes. Shocked back by the searing, the still-malleable bolt tips flew into the air, one landing on the opposite eye and two onto his left wing. Xirius screamed in pain then blacked out.
When he woke a few days later, he was in the medical ward in Solkhakhum, and his eyes still stung terribly. Feeling upwards with his scaled appendages, he felt bandages across his face, and was relieved that the darkness he saw was caused by them. Xirius? mother was sitting next to him, and breathed a deep sigh of relief when her son awoke. A couple weeks later, after the pain had subsided, the healer removed the bandages. Xirius, his heart palpitating, saw a bright light, but out of one eye only. He rubbed them, still, the one was only a large bright blur, and he could not see out of the other. Still, he was relieved to be alive, even if he was blind.
This feeling of abatement did not last though, and Xirius fell into a deep depression. He could no longer see the forest, the beautiful weapons his father made, his own paintings. Mother and father were no better; they fought constantly, mother sometimes blaming herself for the injury, sometimes blaming father too. Xirius just listened in the background.
At about sixteen, Xirius left home for the city, thinking he could find some work there, even for a blind Klyros. He was unsuccessful until he met a man who bumped into him while he was wondering lost in the streets. Recognising him from the crystal mine he worked in as a boy, the man invited him to his home. Xirius, being lost and hungry, and perhaps foolish, followed. The man introduced himself as Tyrbren, a Dwarf of the Stonecutter clan who had also worked for a time in the nearby crystal mines. They became friends, but Xirius always had a slight apprehension about Tyrbren; was he was being too kind? Does anybody give without expecting something in return? Xirius knew though, that through his blindness he had become bitter and mistrustful of all.
About three months later, Tyrbren told Xirius about a Xacha man who worked in the archives of Solkhakhum, a man who was incredibly skilled in all ways of magic and could possibly give Xirius his sight back. All too ecstatic about this prospect, Xirius told Tyrbren this was something he?d been anticipating for two dark years. Tyrbren told him there may be work involved, but Xirius said this would be fine, so they went.
The archives of Solkhakhum were massive; a labyrinth buried in catacombs under the palace, some even say deeper than most dwarves would dare go. They were not going that deep however, just down to the experimenting level where mages under commission by the governor combined glyphs and potions into the oddest of concoctions. Xirius felt a chill down his spine and electricity on his wings as they descended the staircase. At the bottom, he could feel the powers of magic and the smell of slowly rotting books.
Tyrbren introduced Xirius to the Xacha mage and then returned up the stairs without a second word. Xirius was left there, with a mage of many powers that he did not know and did not trust. The mage spoke after what seemed like an eternity;
You wish for me to restore your sight?
Yes, I do, please.
Ah, then you will work for me and perhaps I will.
Xirius was asked to participate in experiments in magic. The mage combined glyphs, some Xirius had never seen or even heard of in strange combinations. Weakness with armour, fire and water. Xirius was the clacker larvae for all his experiments. After a few weeks of being tortured with dark spells and nurtured back to life with healing ones, Xirius was a mental wreak, some days not speaking at all, but the Xacha priest didn?t notice or care. Xirius could hear the scratch, scratch scratch of the pen when the mage wrote down the results of his experiment. He was mad, both were mad, though Xirius felt he got the blunt end of the tefusang tooth. After a couple more weeks, the mage had come up with increasingly terrible combinations. He built a shield wall to block himself from all the backfire the spells produced, but Xirius was always the target. He wished so much to be back home, to be able to see again. He cursed Tyrbren and the mage under his breath.
One day, the mage set off combining an azure summoning glyph, a blue calling glyph and a red fire glyph. Xirius didn?t like the sound of it, he knew from his father?s smithy that red and blue don?t mix well unless under controlled circumstances, and this mage was anything but controlled. Well, there was little Xirius could do about it, and the mage cast the spell.
Xirius saw a room, it was his father?s smithy! He had experienced visions and memories before, but nothing as vivid as this was. He must have been knocked out by the mage?s experiment and was dreaming. Looking around the room, everything was as he remembered it, even his father was sleeping in the corner. Xirius leapt for joy and ran towards his father that he loved and missed so much. But has he jumped across the working table, he was stopped dead in his tracks by a creature like he had never seen before.
The creature was like a wick and flame, but as large as a Kran. It flickered in the wind that flew through the smithy and slowly grew two eyes halfway up it?s body. Eyes a dark deep blue like the long forgotten seas of the surface world. They focused on Xirius, and he was locked in shock and amazement. Then it spoke in a slow thundering boom:
I am Keldjan, the embodiment of all hopes and dreams. The Xacha, he was stealing the souls of men, I smote him. You however are different. You understand. You see the world through other?s eyes. You will believe in me. You will be free.
With that he roared in bursting flames and rolling thunder and then disappeared. Xirius was stunned, and then he woke up.
He could see again, and Xirius was filled with a knowledge and a wisdom that he still has yet to fully fathom. The Xacha mage lay dead on the floor. The room, dimly lit by candlelight was piled high with books but the glyphs he used were smouldering and soon were naught but ashes. A warm breeze flew through the room, and on the central table, a book opened to a page, blank. Then, very slowly in blood-red letters a poem appeared:
Keldjante Leisthin Bol
Keldjante Ankshpen Urtast
Keldjante Ilas Grumbedol
Seltan Aktisht kol Granbanast[/color]
I alone know the meaning of the words, and only those who follow Keldjan will be able to harness the great powers he is willing to bestow. I returned to the village, spending a lot of healing time with my family. A sister was born to my parents a year ago, I taught her the values in life and in death. Soon however, I left to find others who understand, who see the world through others eyes, who want to be free.
Xirius Dolaktisht
