Introduction to A'thirin

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INTRODUCTION

There was a time, in the beginning of days, some time after YahlÃ*rin had breathed life into nothingness and formed what is known as the Ancient World, that Maldeir, who despised all things, using his great power opened up the earth. It was such that the démons and dark spirits, servants of Maldeir, would enter the world to bring all life to nothingness, or perverse and twist it into chaos. Maldeir’s leading pawns—Morkhem and Enthahtúlen, that is Death and Hatred in the common speech, and Dethshaiken, the writhed earth god—massacred the people and land. Those colonies that escaped spread to the far reaches of the world.
Yet Maldeir soon met his demise when YahlÃ*rin, in his anger, sent the Hallêneth to drive every demon and foul spirit back into the abyss from whence they came. And YahlÃ*rin chained Maldeir to the fiery lake-bottom of Malth, which is Hell, forever to suffer continuous turmoil and pain.
The war of the deities had left a devastating scar on the world’s face, one that would forever remain. The people had left and over time, almost all had forgotten the tragedy of the Ancient World. All records of time had been lost, except in the lands of Serenesti in the east, in A’theria, and of Lehfnen in the west, in A’kahlia. Only in those places was history passed down through the generations.
None ventured beyond the great Wall of Separation, built upon the retreat of their ancestors, and still none wandered south beyond the Galthori River, for certain death would come to those that did, or so rumours told, which many did believe.
And thus there was an age of steady quiet, though not of peace, for each day held a level of uncertainty in it. Life continued on, coming to being, growing, withering and dying, and the world, called A’ThÃ*rin, remained steadfast, subconsciously waiting for another shake in its existence.

CHAPTER 1

The small land of SuÃ*ten, bordered by the Balkai Mountains to the north and the Great River of Plenty to the south, consisted mainly of flat lands with a hilly terrain just before the mountain range. Along the riverside grew small trees, lush green shrubbery, and tall grass. The trees, however, thinned out as they grew more inland and gradually became no more. They and the green plants among them were replaced with long, golden grass that stretched across the plain, over the rolling hills and ended abruptly before the mountains. A main road ran through the country down to the city of Shalom.

Across the River of Plenty, which was home to a vast assortment of fish, there ran a sturdy bridge, the Bridge of New Crossing, constructed for the purpose of exploration when unknown lands became overpopulated in the liveable areas, and other areas became rather unliveable. Yet the people of SuÃ*ten never crossed it, nor travelled afar to other lands, many fearing the mystery of the other races of their kind.


There was one evening in the autumn season, when the leaves began to turn from green to golden yellow, that the sun, like a heavy weight in the sky, began its usual long decent toward the western hills, spreading a dazzling spectrum of colours overhead which graced the striated clouds with glowing edges. A young traveller staggered onto the bridge. He walked, almost in a daze, while beholding the sunset with awe, as if he had never before beheld its glory. The boy was naught but younger than ten, though his body appeared to have seen fifty years of gruelling war and suffering; that was hidden behind a mask of tattered clothes. In his weary eyes was a faint look of innocence that only a child could have.

He stopped halfway across the bridge and peered over the side wall into the river. There he marvelled at all the fish swimming every which way, bustling about in their unique colours and shapes. Then he looked up along the bridge and saw Shalom, vast and golden about the riverside. He continued his journey at a quicker pace, reaching the city just before nightfall.

The city was quiet, most having retired to their homes for supper. The odd man would dart here and there, but no women. He looked about much of the city searching for an inn, till at last he found one that was small and old, at least as far as inns go, but he stepped inside to look nonetheless. Inside was a dim-lit room: a staircase to the left led to an upper floor; a low table in the middle surrounded by a few strategically placed filled sacs to lounge on; a door to the right which possibly led to another room; and a window on the far wall opposite the front door.

The boy shut the door quietly and cautiously crept across the room, collapsing on one of the filled sacs. The place was very quiet, not very well-kept, perhaps abandoned; but the child was still too young in his life to think about these things. He was soon fast asleep, curled up on his comfy seat that formed to the shape of his body.

He seemed to have slept in late, for the sun's light shone bright through the window onto his tanned face. Rubbing his eyes, he looked in front of him upon the table; bread and warm milk were placed on it. There were other things on the table, such as a few books, some rolls of paper, a map, a quill and ink. What was important to him was the breakfast laid before him, and he began eating, suddenly remembering his hunger.

Just then, a man came through the front door, and noticing the boy, gave a warm smile. At almost the same moment, an elegant masculine voice rang from up the stairs.

"Is that you, Ninthalas?" it called.

"The man replied in the same melodious voice, "Yi, it is me, brother."

"Had you enough money for provisions?" the first voice rang out again.

"Enough talk, brother, and come greet our young guest," said the man, approaching the table and setting his bags down.

The boy had stopped eating to watch the man and listen to this ordeal.

"Please eat," the man said to him. "You need not be alarmed. I am no enemy to you."

He continued with his bread and milk, ever watchful of this elegant man with glistening sky-blue eyes, shining long black hair and smooth facial skin lighter than his.

"I am Ninthalas Shadai," the man said, sitting down across from him. "I come from the far north, from Serenesti. That there is my twin, Kai-Tsuthlen." He motioned toward the other man, who had just descended the stairs and now came toward them.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, sitting down beside the boy. "What is your name?"

"Yosef Mathius," the boy replied.

"And where do you come from?" Kai-Tsuthlen asked again.

"Mor'Lun," Yosef replied.

Kai-Tsuthlen glanced at Ninthalas who met his gaze, thinking and knowing the same thing.

"That is a long journey for such a young boy," Kai-Tsuthlen said as Yosef finished his breakfast of bread and milk. "Do you have parents?"

Yosef spaced out, thinking hard. "...I don't know," he replied. Then tears swelled up in his eyes and he began to weep.

"What is wrong?" asked Ninthalas, getting up and taking the boy into his arms.

"...I don't know," cried Yosef between sobs. "I can't remember anything."

By the way, yi in A'therian means "yes", but you probably figured that out. It actually takes a while for things to get moving in the story. There's a lot of talking to begin with as I'm introducing new characters and getting the plot underway.

Does this language have a basis in any real language, and how were we supposed to figure that out???

That's why I put a little blurb below to tell you what the words mean. (Maybe I should've put it at the beginning). As far as I know, the language isn't any real language. I'm making it up as I go, trying to figure out the grammar and conjugation of verbs, that sorta thing. I just have a strange fascination with making up words and hope to have a whole language like Tolkien's Elvish someday.

The brothers looked at each other again questioningly.
“So many riddles,” said Kai-Tsúthlen in the tongue of his people.
Ninthalas averted his gaze, staring into nothingness. “Onen’menan?” he said.
“Of that we do not know,” the brother replied.
“What?” asked Yosef, wiping his teary eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“’Tis nothing, my child,” replied Ninthalas in a comforting voice. “Now, have you had enough to eat, or are you still hungry?”
“I’m okay,” the boy replied.
“Good, because today we ride to Port Shai,” he said.
“You’re leaving?” said Yosef.
“Indeed we are,” said Kai-Tsúthlen, “and you are coming with us. We cannot leave you here alone.”
As he said this, Ninthalas was gathering up the maps, books, and paper. He tidied up the quill and ink, wrapping them in leather skin. There was a large bag beside the table in which he put these things. He and his brother stood up, exchanged a few words in their tongue, and after he handed Kai-Tsúthlen to bag—he himself left the old house—Ninthalas turned to Yosef, motioning with his hand. “Come,” he said, gathering the few things which he had earlier bought. “Up the stairs with me.”
Yosef followed him obediently. The top floor was two rooms only and small at that. The ceiling followed the roof in a steep wedge, and the rooms, both nearly exactly the same size, were separated by a bare wall.
“Go and change into these in the other room,” said Ninthalas, handing Yosef a clean set of traveller’s clothes.
He went into the other room while Ninthalas waited, and soon came out again, holding his old tattered garments.
“You can leave those here,” said Ninthalas.
Yosef set them down and followed him back down the stairs and out the door. There waiting were two horses, both of lightly tanned colour and white-silver manes and tails, with eyes dark as coal, almost unworldly in appearance. Kai-Tsúthlen was already upon one; behind the saddle were strapped bags full of provisions. Kai-Tsúthlen himself had strapped to his sides two swords, and across his chest held a bow, its arrows on his back.
Ninthalas lifted the boy onto the other horse, Hallas, and fixed himself with the same attire as his brother. Then off they rode, across the Bridge of New Crossing. The road gradually curved east and straightened out along flat terrain. In the far distance Yosef could see the great Wall of Separation far off along the horizon.
“Why did our ancestors build such a long and great wall?” he asked Ninthalas as they rode at great speed.
“Many years ago during the First Age of the world, there was a terrible quake in the earth that drove our ancestors away. In their fleeing, they built this wall to keep out any evil intruders from the outside. To this day there is no man that has ever crossed that wall, for it is said that certain death awaits those who do.”
Yosef though about this a long while as the sun slowly moved westward across the sky. A distant memory came into his mind. He remembered seeing this wall, but the land appeared to be different. There were hills before it from what he could recall, yet here was a flat grassland stretching out across the plain. He tried to remember anything else before that, but could not. so he gave up on the effort.


Side note: onen'menan means "beloved" or "only one". Who Ninthalas' onen'menan is is discovered later on in the story.