Category: The Sundering of the Two moons

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“I hate it.” Idris said as he walked in, pulling at his own red shirt. His red hair was combed backwards, held there by a band of leather.
“Behave.” Lavia said as she came in behind him. She now wore a gown of white, beautifully framing her body.
“Father.” Idris said, standing in front of Suda, hands on his hips, “Why do I have to wear this?”
A girl followed him in. She was also dressed in white, and she had a silver ribbon in her red hair. Alina, Suda’s oldest daughter, smiled at him. Finally, a toddler stumbled into the room. Belia was Suda’s youngest child, and she also pulled at the dress she was wearing.
Suda knelt in front of his son, “Now Idris.” His voice was stern, “Tonight we celebrate Gadrika and the food that he blessed us with. We must dress for such an occasion.” A smile appeared on Suda’s face, and he whispered, “And if you are good, I will let you stay up late to watch the fire dancers.”
A smile grew on Idris’s face, and he bounced on the balls of his feet.
Lavia coughed, “Have you forgotten Suda?”
“No I have not.” He replied as he stood and walked to his dresser. He pulled from it a small scabbard, which held a short metal knife. He turned, smiling at the young boy who watched the knife curiously, “Now Idris.” Suda knelt before his son, “Today you are six harvest festivals away from becoming a ward. For this reason, you shall receive your first blade, as I did at your age.” Idris smiled gleefully as Suda fastened the blade to the boy’s belt, “Look after it well. My father had it made for me.”
Idris nodded and charged out of the room, most likely to show his friends. Alina and Belia ran up to Suda expectantly.
“I have not forgotten you both.” He said and walking back to his dresser, he pulled out two bright red flowers. Kneeling beside them, he wove the stems into both of the girls silver bands, “These grow only in the soil around Amoradrage, or upon lands where the Drage family have lived. They are a gift from Livella, showing our connection to her. Wear them tonight and the vassal of light will bless this house.”
The two girls left, both standing taller, like grace personified.
Suda stood and kissed his wife upon her lips. From his desk he took up another cutting of livora and handed it to Lavia, “For the one who holds my heart.” He whispered.
She smiled and wove the flower into a loop at her breast. Together they left for the grand reception hall. Musicians played and Ilma from the merchant families danced, drank, and ate.
 At their entrance there was silence and Suda stood, arm in arm with his wife and addressed the crowd, “Happy harvest to you all.” His voice echoed in the hall, “Bless Gadrika for the life that he has given to us. May the tapestry that he weaves continue to bring you all and the realm of Dragor prosperity. Today we shall celebrate the gift that Gadrika has given us and celebrate the gift of eachother. May the stars guide you all.”
A cheer went up in the hall and then the guests went back to their feasting and dancing. Suda stepped towards an old woman. Her hair was white, and her face wrinkled. She knelt by Alina and entertained the girl with a trick that made the fire the old woman produced, change colours. It was rare for a woman of the Ilma to be able to still use her power at that age. With every child of the Ilma born, the mother diminished, part of her own power going into the child. That was the reason twins were rare, or it was unusual for women to have more than three children. Lavia could barely produce a flame now but what she lost in power; motherhood gave back in beauty.
“Mother.” Suda smiled as he approached the old woman. Alina looked fondly at her father before running off to follow Idris. The old woman turned towards Suda.
“You look regal my son.” His mother said, her gaze fell downwards as she examined the sword at his belt.
“It suited father better.” He replied. His gaze swept across the party goers. He had spent many harvest festivals with his men, staying in inns where no one cared that he was the heir apparent to Dragor.
“Your father never liked the harvest festival.”
“He never liked celebrating.”
His mother gave a hearty laugh, “He was a pious man. He believed in celebrating the gods every day, but you are not cut from his cloth.”
Suda nodded as his mother left him in search of food. His father had not been a ward for any lord or learned much of fighting. Unlike all the other first born of the house of Dragor, his father had spent the years between his coming of age and his rise to lordship, studying in the church of Brinsita. Suda believed that was why, when need for battle came, that he had been wounded so badly.
Lavia came and kissed her husband before taking the children out to enjoy the festival. As he sat, Ordin and Loxa grabbed harps and began to sing for the hall. Their voices were sweet, and they sang songs of Gadrika, just as well as they sang songs of debauchery in small village taverns. As they sang, Sirgrin came and sat next to him, “My lord.” He whispered, “You should go to the square and be amongst your people.”
Suda’s heart warmed at the thought, but he shook his head, “My father never went out to the festival grounds.”
“Your father believed he must rule from inside these walls.” Sirgrin said, “But you are not your father, and you are well loved by the people. You can be a different lord than he.”
Others would not have spoken to him so, but Suda had helped raise Sirgrin and he trusted his counsel above most others.
Suda nodded and stood, his shirt feeling a bit lighter as he stepped out into the cool autumn air. Two Graul soldiers followed him, there red shirts shining, a black dragon embroided on their chests. People cheered at the sight of their lord and Suda walked through the streets, smiling at Graul and Ilma who danced and sang under the stars.

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Selosa suddenly sat up high upon Grald, “Now is the time, flank them, flank them.” She drove her heels into Grald’s side and charged, the rest of the cavalry moving with her. I spurred Dwell on, doing my best to keep pace. Dwell responded to all my movements and pride welled up in me for the beast, “I will make a war steed of you yet.” I cried over the crashing hooves.
The riders in front of me crashed into the enemy first, breaking them like water upon rocks. I saw none of those our stampede trampled. Suddenly I found myself at the head of the column of riders and I pulled from the ground, a great swirl of water that charged ahead of me and Dwell. I yelled as we struck hard into the line of infantry. Shruda’s flew in front of me, crashing into our enemy while my wave threw others off their feet. I had never killed before, but I felt no shame in that moment. Blood lust filled me as I heeled Dwell to go faster. It seemed to me that maybe our cavalry charge would win the day, but a horn call signalled our doom. We were charging headlong into the cavalry of Melkin. Two speeding walls approached eachother, neither able to turn aside. The thud as brokin hit brokin was horrendous. Horn’s ripped skin or knocked rider from steed. No weapons were used, our brokin were our weapons. Steeds doomed to die.
I hit the line late, and my water pummelled into a brokin, knocking it aside and toppling its rider, who screamed as hooves surrounded him. Then I suddenly lunged sidewards. I stared into the face of my enemy, mad rage in his golden eyes. Before his bone shruda could strike, I formed fire in my hand and the bright burning spear split his mouth.

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Kindness.” Agral spat, his eyes burning with rage, “Look at me.” Krim did and his brother’s repulsiveness shocked him. Haggard, rotting, skin hung off his bony frame. His hair was falling
out in clumps but still Krim pitied him, “You took all the power for yourself.” Agral continued,
“We were meant to be equal, but you stole everything from me.”
“And so you took my wife from me?” Krim became like a flame then, heart kindled with rage and
his power overcame Agral. A healing power Krim sent and at once his brother changed. He grew
tall and strong, with skin of perfect white scales and his pupils receded, showing brilliant golden
eyes, “See what you could be brother.” Krim begged, “Call back your forces, relent from this
venomous dream and be as a brother to me again.”
The sight of what he might have been only enraged Agral more and as his dark power once again
overcame Krim’s, he was more gruesome than ever. He drove forward and such rage was in his
spirit, that no power of Krim could stop him and he drove his sword between his brother’s breast
and the blade broke at the hilt.
The skies wept for the passing of Krim, and his forces were swept away by the hordes of Agral.
The banner of Gadrika returned on a swift breeze and lay upon the body of Krim. A light blinded Agral and as he pulled the cloak away, Krim was no more.

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He had heard rumours of Lucarnia and had seen her once as a child but in her womanhood, no story could convey her beauty. Her skin absorbed the red light of the moon and gave it back in greater beauty. Un-like Morelin, she had no red scales but instead lines like roots came down from her eyes and clung delicately all the way down her cheeks. She was slender like a flower in spring, but Morelin could feel the strength of the trees in her.
A wind rose around Morelin and seemed to flutter around Lucarnia. He watched as a smile crept onto her lips. She sang again and a beautiful red flower bloomed. Her gaze fell suddenly towards him, “Come out fair lord and bask in the light. Umoria will soon come across the glade and their light will mix. Come and see the flowers, you are upsetting the trees.”
Nervously Morelin stepped into the glade. He bowed slightly; his hand pressed against his forehead. She did the same, “Hail lord of the Ilma.” Her eyes went to the silver flower pin on his shoulder, “You are of the house of Mina?”
Morelin stared into her piercing green eyes that seemed so strange from the golden irises he was used to, “I am Morelin Diactra.” He said in a shaking voice, “From the town of Minagrin.”
“It is a pleasure.” She said as she turned back towards the flowers.
“You must be Lucarnia Bitaran, daughter of the wood king.”
She nodded and Morelin stepped closer to her and as he did, Umoria moved across the sky and gave its silver light to the clearing and it mingled, as she had said, with the light of Aradtoria.
“Tell me wood daughter, how did you know I was here?” He asked.
“You said it in the name you give me. We who live in the wood, hear the trees and many do not like the hearts of the Ilma, who chop them down for their machines of war.” She laughed like it was some joke, but Morelin hesitantly looked towards the trees, his power reaching out to silence the wind that blew through them. His eyes then went down to the flower, “This is livora.” He said, “That grows only on the lands where the kin of Drage have lived.”

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A quick turn took them into a wide passageway. It led off into darkness and Suda guessed that its path led to the frozen chasm and beyond that to the high pass. Its walls were roughly hewn and many of the scratches were fresh. A group of soldiers stared at them as they entered the passageway, and seeing in the clear light, the groups original armours, they charged, heedless that they faced Ilma.
A flaming brand appeared in Suda’s hand, and such power was in it from his grief that the Graul could not withstand him. He moved like a snake, his brand felling Graul or throwing them to the company, where they were quickly broken.
Suda stopped as the last Graul fell. The passage was filled with the smell of burned flesh. Shouts could be heard all around now. Choosing the eastward way, Suda led the company down the passage. Ordin charged past him as they came to a large hall, the sound of soldiers coming from within. He charged into it, heedless of any threat and there he was caught. Stone grabbed at his foot and as he lunged, a sickening crack echoed through the hall. As it incapacitated him, the stone continued to climb up his body. The others entered more slowly, and they saw there one of the Ilma, his hand outstretched, calling the stone up Ordin’s body. Suda charged at the Ilma and his hold on Ordin was broken. Ogra cracked the stone and dragged Ordin to safety while Suda launched fire into the waiting Ilma. Loxa and Dusan followed on from Suda’s barrage and a great wind lifted Sirgrin into the air. Loxa and Dusan launched fire, merging with Suda’s but a great slab of stone burst upwards to block it.

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I searched for the white fur of Grald and Selosa amidst the chaos. A shadowed loomed above me and my eyes turned skyward. One of the wind riders was stalking, his face showing that he was of the Ilma and in his hands he wielded fire.
instinctively my water struck him, and he went limp in the air. He came down with a sickening crash and I lost him in the foray of brokin and Graul. My heart skipped several beats at that. Killing one of the Graul was fine, but one of the Ilma, one of the chosen people. That was something dark, works only Agral could sow.
In that moment it seemed like more of the Ilma joined the battle and one pressed me hard. Fire, wielded like a whip, cracked in my direction and all I could do was bring water from the dead around me to block the blows. Steam surrounded the battlefield and I lost sight of my enemy for a second. A glint of bone was all I saw, and I screamed as it skimmed against my cheek. Rage filled me again and in a sudden wind the steam cleared. The Ilma was charging, shruda in his hand but I was quicker. Water crashed into his stomach, and I ripped the shruda from his grasp. I collapsed on top of him, screaming in my blood lust as I thrust again and again.
By the time I moved the battle had passed me by. To my left stood the un-used ranks of Melkin and to my right, the battle raged on. Again, I heard the twang of arrow fire and the earth lifted to protect me from that volley. Thuds echoed into my barricade and as the earth fell, I stared at the next line of cavalry, charging swiftly towards me. Fire formed in my hands, ready for death that rode on galloping hooves. Suddenly I ducked as hooves came from either side. Cavalry in the orange of Carano swept passed and in another thunderous charge they collided with the armies of Melkin.

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So Crio left in the darkness of night and again he marched through the middle lands of his youth. The ground groaned and from a great fissure a figure climbed. As tall as a mountain he stood, grey skinned, covered in coarse hair, with hands like stone. Orna, God of the earth, had come.
“Crio.” He said in a deep voice, as hard as the earth, like an avalanche of falling stones down a mountain, “The daughter of my son is wrathful. Too powerful is she and her power cannot be contained by the seasons of Ilmgral. Beneath this land lies the defence against her powers but I need your help to raise them.”
“If this works.” Crio said, “Will my family be safe and the people of Drage?”
Orna nodded his great head, “They will be safe from all the destructions of the world and shall have gems uncounted and will love the stone of your creation.”
Crio smiled grimly, “Then my lord, I give you my body.”
A great roar went up and Crio felt the power of the earth beneath him and Orna fashioned a rope around the earth and together they pulled it. Great mountains rose from their toil and the middle lands were uprooted, green pastures becoming peaks that reached towards the heavens. In those mountains they trapped the storm of Camara and part of her power with it, so that the peaks of the mountain became instantly covered in snow. A great height those mountains reached but love for his family and that of the people of Drage ran through all that Crio designed and a great labyrinth he made within the mountains for those trapped to the south.

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The Ilma are mentioned in the Escape from Humanity but who are they? An Alien race, some good, some evil? Immortals who have great knowledge of the universe? What is their curse and why do they consider themselves the chosen people of the Universe? Who are the Graul? The servant race, now some of the most powerful beings in Besan Gretan?  Briefly is the history and beliefs of the Ilma hinted at in the Knights of Earth saga, yet it is a rich history, full of tragedy, deceit, and the corruption of power. A story of the long defeat, how those chosen to be the wardens of the Gods, become vengeful Gods in their own right.

The Sundering of the Two moons is the first part of the History of Ilmgral. In this book series I will bring you the long tapestry that saw the Ilma rise to absolute power and be cursed by it. This history is told in short stories of various styles, giving an in-depth outlook into the history of Ilmgral, like the Silmarillion never could for Middle earth.

The Sundering of the Two moons, focuses on the earliest years of Ilmgral and consists of four stories:

The Beginnings of the Universe are told in the book: The Holy Quadrant. Here the three plains of existence are explained, along with the coming of the Vassals and the immense powers given to the Ilma, with their place as custodians explained.

Notes as both squire and Lord- Follows Bruska Crud, one of the Ilma as he navigates becoming a squire to one of the greatest warriors of the time, Selosa Aquitex. He witnessed some of the Key events of the middle years of the Age of Vassals, including the battle of the crossroads and the burning of Fasurasuta.

The War of the Dividing Mountains- Newly come into his Lordship, Suda Drage, relation of the Vassal Drage Livella, must defend his home from the Kingdom of Scaraden. This story, though thousands of years before the events of the Knights of Earth Saga, ties in the most of all these tales, for it is the Pledge of Suda Drage that lingered as a dark shadow over the Ilma in all their many wars and would eventually bring war to Earth, until one from the Dragor would realm would do war upon Scaraden again.

The Sundering of the Two moons- This tells the story of Morelin, a high lord of the Ilma and Lucarnia, daughter of the wood king, an evergreen of the Krun-ilma, as their love and betrayal of their duties, eventually tears the celestial bodies of Ilmgral apart.

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“Do not speak of such things.” She said coldly.
Morelin’s hand went to reach towards hers, but the branches moved, trapping his arm, “Please Lucarnia.” He begged, “You are not blind to this world. Your father pays these rebels, just like his grandfather did by the plea of the lord of Cradlin. He does it to pull people like me away from my home. Our kings are both liars, using us as pawns to wage secret wars with eachother.”
“You lie.” She said desperately.
“You know that I do not. Look into my eyes and see it.” She did and her white lips quivered. The branch released him, and he took her hand, “My heart is yours. Like Umoria and Aradtoria in the sky, we are destined to be together, and I will let nothing keep me from you.”
She was silent and Morelin thought then that he had lost her, but she soon grasped his hand tightly, “I have seen things my love. My father’s secret meetings, his advisors taking trading trips to the frozen north or the apathy towards the tower of my mother’s birth.”
“You know what I say is true.” Morelin’s eyes were firm, “We cannot let this escalate further.”
She nodded, “My father talks of war in spring. The trees of the north shall move southward and shall surround Melkin.”
“They will find fire.” He replied, “For Anglin is nervous and scared in his rule. He has long prepared for such an assault. Tell him of my imprisonment. We must get the kings together if we are to stop this war.”
Her hand released his, “I cannot betray my father.”
“If we do not, then our worlds will crumble.”
“This will doom my people.” She said sadly, “Anglin will come with an army and will not stop until the woods burn.”
“I will beg him not to.” Morelin assured her, “If Anglin gains my release, he will see it as a victory, as will king Nargir, for I shall be banished from his realm.”
“If you are banished, then our time together ends.”
He smiled, hearing the love he thought lost in her words. He leant forward and the branches opened so that he could kiss her trembling lips. She locked him in a firm embrace, letting go of the fear and the pain. When they broke apart, he stared into her eyes, “I did not say it in jest. We are like the moons of heaven, and we can never be separated. If we stop this war, the Gods will reward us, and they will grant my desire to never be parted from you again.”
She kissed him again, “I will do this thing.” Her eyes seemed to grow sad, “But I see only bad things and our separation coming from this. The Gods will curse our treachery. Farewell my love, I will soon see you freed.”
The tree limbs closed back in around him and Lucarnia vanished into the upper boughs. Morelin sat reinvigorated in his cell, waiting for his chance to win his freedom.

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Randew.” Suda called to his new commander of the guard. The Graul came near and bowed, “Go back across the bridge. Tell the men there to push forward and to hold the southern entrance. Then return to lord Rivon and tell him what has occurred.”
Randew nodded, two fingers pressed to his heart. He went to leave but Dusan’s voice stopped him, “Go and tell him yourself. We have done what we came here to do, and we have paid a heavy fee for it.”
“I have not done what I set out to do.” Suda said, fire burning in his eyes, “I set out to make sure that none of our lands are ever governed by a tyrant king and I stand by that pledge by any dark road that Livella cannot light for me. I shall go into the southern realm and end this would be God’s rule.”
The company were speechless, and they stared at Suda as though seeing him for the first time. He seemed tall in his grief, a fire burning in his red hair like Drage of old. To them he was the vision of a king, with a crown of red flames upon his head.
Randew left and Suda stepped towards Lidya’s body, “Your idols Dusan.” He called behind him.
The priest nodded and from his back he pulled out four disks, each as large as his palm. One was of silver, with an image of a star. The second held the image of a mountain and it was made from a mix of many metals. The third disk held a glass phial and clear water from the rivers of Brinsita sat within. The last bore mirrored glass, so that one could truly admire Gadrika’s work. Dusan placed these upon Lidya’s body. The mirror atop his head, the phial of water at his mouth, the star upon his chest and the disk of Orna on his midriff, “Son of Dragor, descendant of Livella, let your soul go now to rest within her halls. Soon we shall find a ship and Thera shall carry you beneath the stars, where Drage will claim you.”
They prayed together but when Dusan went to retrieve the tokens, Suda stayed him with his hand, “On these four tokens I lay a pledge.” An eerie silence grew in the cavern as everyone seemed to hold their breaths, “I, Suda of house Drage, pledge that I shall not return to my home. Nor shall I find simple rest until the king of Scaraden is laid utterly to ruin and his four towered church is destroyed and in its place a star of Livella built. If I should fail, then my house shall ever be laid in enemy of Scaraden, and I swear not to go to the halls of Livella until this pledge is fulfilled.” He lifted his sword from the floor and ran his hand along it. He winced as blood dripped towards Livella’s token. From the chamber below a wind rose and the blood fell not onto the star but the mirror of Gadrika. As it touched, there was a blinding flash of green flame, and the blood became a pungent sickly smoke. An eerie calm fell over the tunnel and doom weighed heavy upon the company.