Ali 1.02- History Lessons.

“Ali?  Alisandrina?” says a woman gently as she pats my forehead with a damp cloth.  I try to sit up, to look around, but the throbbing of my head holds me down just as securely as the woman with the cloth. 

“Don’t try to speak.” She says in a whisper.  “Just listen.  There will be time for your questions in a few moments, but you need to understand what has happened first.” 

I try to sit up again, suddenly alarmed, but she looks at me with concern and holds me down to the bed.  “Be calm child.”

I try to force my breathing to regulate, my heart rate to slow. , It is surprisingly easy, especially given I know I should be dead.  The nightmare of Maelforge has only increased my unease. I look around, trying to understand based on my location.  The stone walls and windowless room speaks of a great fortress, the lush furnishings and beading backing up the assumption.   None of the Eth fortresses would have this look to them. 

“May I have a glass of water?”  I ask the woman.  She nods and reaches for one on the bedside table.  Under the pretence of the drink, I sit up slowly and prop myself against the headboard of the bed.  When I am settled, she smiles, and I wonder why, hoping for good news.

 “Alisandrina, you are a miracle of the technology of our race.”  She says.  She must see the confusion on my face, because she continues quickly.  “But let me ask you, what do you remember?  It may be better for me to fill in the gaps than to recount the entire history.”

I drink more of my water and place the empty glass on the table, giving me time to think.  What do I remember?  “I was called upon by my family tribe to join in arms with the men of the north to defend our homes, our lands, against the dragons and their cults who wished it for their own.” The woman smiled, but her smile seemed out of place.  “The last day I remember was the day we decided to turn our technology towards the cults.  There were some, those elves and those men who were more...” I struggle for a word that will not offend, unsure of the woman’s allegiances. “... devout, who believed we were wrong, who believed the power of the vigil alone, the combined gods of Telara working as one, would force the dragons back from our world.  My family tribe believed in our magic.  We joined with the sorcerer-kings and their tribes.  We turned our wonderworks against the cult of Maelforge, but the dragon of consumption was too powerful, and we all fell in their path.”

I end my story here and take some time in silence to pour more water, hoping the woman would explain why she still smiles and, more importantly, how I came to be here when I know I died along side my family tribe.

“History has come to know this battle as the Blood Storm wars.”  The woman says.

“History knows it?” I ask in confusion.  “Then the people of Telara were successful?”  Maybe I did not die after all, but only fell unconscious.  My heart races again as I wait for news of my family.  Surely if I lived they too have survived.  Then her words catch up to me.  “’History knows it?’  How long have I been unconscious?”

Here, for the first time, her smile falters.  “You were not unconscious, you remember correctly.  The story of your family ends just the way you recounted it.”

“How... but I am here now.”  I cannot form full thoughts.  The pain in my head returns but I am determined not to lie down.  I continue drinking my water and remain silent, waiting for her to continue.

“After the Blood Storm wars, in which the technology of the Eth was monumentally important, I might add, each of the five lesser dragons were imprisoned here on Telara.  Fearing the power of the sixth, Regulos, the vigil placed a ward around Telara and banished him behind it.”

I nod, and she continues.

“The dragon cults, though now leaderless, were no less of a threat.  Each now had a greater cause to unite them, each now worked to free their dragon lord from each of their prisons.  The people of the North returned to their homes, and the Eth returned to their work.”

“And they developed the technology to return me to live?”  I ask, trying to place the final pieces to the puzzle.

The woman pauses in her story and looks more serious than she had yet.  “A great evil had infected Eth Society.  The dragon cults had infiltrated every level of the wonderworks and drastic measures were needed to keep them from corrupting the science of plenty and peace, bringing all Telara to its knees.  The sorcerer-kings voted.  They cast the Convocation.  A wave of vengeful magic washed over our beloved cities, silencing machines, snuffing every eldritch light.  Glass roads cracked and shattered, magical wells went dry, and the cities of the Eth – centers of an empire that stretched across the desert and beyond – sank below the slithering sands.”

I feel my heart rate rise but I know the story has not ended.  “You said I am a miracle of that technology, and here you tell me the whole of our collective works was swallowed by the sands.  Please, continue.”

The woman smiles “And you are.” She says with pride.  “The story of your rebirth was forged with the Eth Empire, but only truly began one year ago.   The story stretches forward many years from now, and ends mere hours ago.”

I sigh, loudly, and immediately wish I could take it back.  “I’m sorry.  That was rude of me.  But you speak in riddles and you know I am having trouble following.  Please explain.”

The woman continues as if she did not hear my interruption.  “After the fall of the Eth Empire, the Mathosian line of Kings was born.  They ruled for nearly 500 years before the traitor brother king, Aedraxis, and his court tutor Orphiel, convert the machines created by the Eth into a tool to break the ward and allow Regulos to return.”

“Why?!” I cry as I sit up sharply.  “After all that work, why would they throw it away?”  In the back of my mind the slow realization that my death, and the time of my family, was over 500 years ago, but my alarm that any citizen of Telara would purposefully break the ward pushes it further back.

“Be calm.   The records do not record Orphiel’s motivations and he is not willing to answer the question.”  The woman says, offering me more water.   “To your story it is not the most important focus.  What you need to know is this was the beginning of the race of Ascended.”

“Ascended?” I ask, letting the word roll over my tongue.”

The woman nods.  “Many of those who stood by Aedraxis were slain in the battle, but the Vigil touched many and returned them to life, granting them a second chance to affect their future.”

I get a small flicker of where this is leading, but remain silent as she continues.

“The Ascended were able to destroy the Tyrant and push back Regulos’s work for many more years, but the race of Men, the Elves, and the Dwarves, were never truly trusting of the Eth or Bahmi races from that point forward.   They always looked at our technology as being at fault.”

“Bahmi?” I ask, wondering if the Prince of that name had fathered a line of his own, but then quickly shake the question away.  “An explanation for another time.” I say, “These Ascended, I can see their point, but they have only seen the horror the magitech can unleash, not the positively wonderful creations it can make. “

“It would take almost 20 years for that sliver of distrust to form into a chasm.   After that, the Races of the North, and their Ascended, went their separate ways, and we ours.”

I nod.  “Then this is not as different from the cultural makeup from the time of Eth Kings.”

The woman laughs and calm passes over me.  “I suppose history does repeat itself.  We are very close to the point in the story that will most interest you, the time of your rebirth now.  Just before the final division of north and south Orphil unearthed an Eth life factory very near where we are now.  He is able to reactivate the Resurrection Forges and.... ”she pauses as I place my empty glass on the side table.  The woman eyes me with suspicion.  “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, really, continue.” I say, engrossed in the story.

She frowns.  “From here, the story takes an... unusual turn.” She sighs.  “It is difficult to explain, but I’ll do my best.   The remainder of the story is told to us by the Ascended  - Our  Ascended, Eth Ascended, who have done the miraculous and returned from a distant future to rewrite the errors of their past, to prevent us from returning to the destroyed land from which they come.  You see, 20 years from now, in a future that will now never exist, Asha and a handful of other survivors were fighting the last stand of Telara.  At that same time the Resurrection forges were perfected and a piece of machinery called a failsafe was brought on-line.  It took them 20 years, but they were able to successfully engineer our own Ascended, and with the use of the failsafe, send them back to the time before to, well, to prevent their future.”

I place my hand to my head, trying to steady it.  “It is a puzzle of a thing, isn’t it?”

The woman smiles at me.  “Yes, even those of us who haven’t just been resurrected have trouble piecing it together.”

“So I am from the future?”  I ask her.

“In a way, all Defiant Ascended are, but no, your rebirth happened here in Meridian not long ago.  The Ascended who returned brought schematics for the Resurrection Forges so that we may accomplish in days what took our counterparts 20 years.”

“A smart move.  I guess they knew that with Ascended on our side, the future could drastically change.”

The woman nodded.  “You know who you are, you can remember fully, but you are now also an Ascended, the hope of Telara.  There is much you must do, and you must not fail.”