The Once War

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley—” Sol began the familiar introduction to The Tale of Dragon Deep, a personal favorite of his, but he didn’t get far before his energetic daughter interjected.

“Not thaaat one! Tell the story of the Once War again! Please, please! Just once more daddy!” Bouncing around the room like a bullet ricocheting unpredictably in a small chamber, Oggo moved in a way only an energized child fighting to stay awake is able. Well, if that child has wings that is.

Sol adopted a stern, fatherly expression before replying. “I don’t know; it seems to me that story has done more to rile you than to help you settle down for sleep.” He suppressed a smile and watched for the inevitable response.

He didn’t have to wait long. Oggo came to a stop before her father, placed her delicate hands firmly atop his shoulders, and looked meaningfully into his eyes. The poor girl could hardly contain her excitement and Sol could tell she was fighting hard to appear in control of herself. As the seconds ticked away and Oggo retained her determined gaze, Sol decided she was sufficiently teased.

“Alright, alright,” Sol couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he sought that delicate balance between maintaining control of the situation while simultaneously admiring and encouraging his daughter’s youthful spirit. It was the same story night after night. Sol would relate the tale of the Once War and was hard pressed to finish before little Oggo began demanding a retelling. Sol thought to himself (and not for the first time) that perhaps a story of fierce war and bloodshed wasn’t the best way to soothe a child before bed, but he also understood the importance of history–especially one’s own. They would have to shelve The Tale of Dragon Deep for another night.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you the great saga of the Once War once more, and then it’s off to bed for this little Othlyte warrior, but, and it’s a big but, you have to promise me something in return.” Emphasizing the word once earned a giggle from Oggo, but it didn’t slow her from asserting herself with enthusiasm.

“I promise daddy! I promise!”

Sol chuckled “But you don’t even know what I’m asking you to promise yet.”

“Yes, but whatever it is, I can do it,” Oggo affirmed as she assumed a defiant stance that could only be interpreted as Oggo-against-the-world-and-the-world-had-better-look-out.

Sol sat up from his relaxed position and assumed a serious expression once more. “Okay then, but you have to promise me you’ll be brave and beware the...tickleworm leeches!” A waterfall of laughter escaped from Oggo’s lips as Sol tickled the soft spots under her arms and beneath her silvery wings. Struggling to breathe as she squealed under the assault, Oggo just managed to squeak out a reply between laughing fits.

“I promise! I promise daddy! Please! Not the tickleworms!” Oggo squirmed in vain, desperate to escape the onslaught. Sol eventually relented and gave in to Oggo’s pleadings for relief. Prepared to keep her promise of bravery, she snuggled up to her father for a second—and hopefully, thought Sol, final—telling of the Once War that night.

“A long time ago, when your brave father was about your age, Rhyiz’ik-a was not the place it is today.” Oggo listened raptly, though her face bunched up into a doubtful expression as Sol suggested he was once as small as she was. No matter how many times she had heard her father relate the story it still seemed impossible to her, but then many parts of the story were foreign to her own experience in the protected confines of the Goldensphere.

Sol pressed forward, unaware of Oggo's inner conflict. “The then four great races didn’t get along so well as they do today. War was all the people knew. As time passed, battles lasted longer and became more desperate until the land was eventually stuck in one endless conflict.” Sol looked to his daughter. “Do you remember what they were fighting over?”

“The Aathinite stones!!” Oggo blurted the response with great enthusiasm before Sol had even finished asking the question. Sol grinned, again admiring her zeal while simultaneously wondering what sort of woman his infant daughter would grow to be. It wasn’t too difficult for him to imagine as his dear companion, Rajua, mirrored the temperament and vitality of their youthful daughter to a T.

“That’s right my little O, but do you remember why the different groups wanted them so terribly?”

“Ooo, oo, as sorcerers we needed the stones to do magic. The Nit-nit-nittians?”

“Nithians,” her father prompted.

“Oh yeah, the Nithinins.” Sol smiled at her somewhat unique pronunciation but allowed her to continue uninterrupted. “They wanted them to, erhm, drink them? Oggo made a sour face and couldn’t fully suppress an audible “bleh” sound as she took in the idea. The thought of someone drinking a rock seemed crazy to her, how did that even work??

Sol spoke, pulling Oggo back from her train of thought that had reached the end of its line at a very large, clearly inedible, rock. “Now remember, they don’t eat the rocks whole. The Nithians grind the Aathinite stone into a fine powder, kind of like the herbs we put on our food, though they use it in the creation of a substance called Yop.” Oggo considered that but quickly decided the image of someone shoveling piles of rocks into their mouth was more fun to picture.

Sol pressed on. “Yop is made from Hulick milk, but when Aathinite powder is added the potent drink allows the Nithians to stay young for-ev-er.” Sol drew out the syllables of forever and Oggo’s eyes grew increasingly large with the realization of each new syllable before snapping to attention and moving on to describe the next race.

“Next is the Sar...the Sar..Sar,” Oggo blew air out of her nostrils in frustration, dropped her head, and raised her eyes to her father in a plea for assistance. “I know their name starts with Sar. It’s just sooo hard to say.”

Her father patted her folded leg resting in his lap and offered a hint. “You’ve got the first piece. The second piece sounds kind of like jam, and the last bit sounds just like knees.” Sol prodded his daughter in the knee for emphasis.

“Sar-jam-knees??” Oggo tested the word, though it was clear she wasn’t satisfied with the way it came out.

“Pretty close,” Sol encouraged. “They’re called the Sarjanese, and they’re the ones who require Aathinite in certain ceremonies of ritual worship.” Oggo nodded in approval and concentrated on shaping her mouth to form the pieces of the word Sarjanese again and again, determined to remember it this time. Finally satisfied, she tested the word again, “Sar-ja-knees.”

“Wonderful! I think you’ve got it now O!”

Beaming with pride, Oggo rushed to pick up the telling where they had left off. “Then it’s the bad guys, right daddy?”

“That’s right little O. The terrible Underfolk.”

Oggo whispered the name in chilled tones as Sol uttered it and shuddered involuntarily as if the name itself was cursed. “They’re so mean. When I’m big like you daddy I’ll keep us safe from them. I’ll tickle 'em til they turn blue!” Oggo rose up and hefted her sorcerer-in-training staff in the air for emphasis. Unfortunately, her posture exposed her to another tickle attack from behind. After Sol ceased his tickle attack, Oggo’s laughter eventually subsided and she settled back into her place in the lap of her strong father, eager for him to resume his telling of the story.

“Now where were we? That’s right, the evil Underfolk. They wanted all the Aathinite for themselves and wanted nothing more than to rule the world. Time passed, and death visited all the races in battle after battle after battle. Then, it happened.”

“The cursing.” Oggo placed her hands on her cheeks and pulled down to make a ghoulish face.

“Yes, the cursing. The Underfolk came to battle with a great change wrought upon them. Their formerly smooth, black skin had become pale as the dead and rough like scales, and their once bronze hair was whiter still such that it appeared to emit perfectly colorless light. More fearful than their monstrous appearance was their newfound incredible strength, speed, and agility.” Oggo sat still, silenced by the grave turn the story had taken. Sol allowed the weight of the moment to rest in the air before continuing. “Luckily, the hero of our story knew just what to do.”

“Grandpa T!” she blurted, rising once more. This time she threw both of her hands above her head and unfurled her wings in a display of pride-infused joy. “He saved us.”

Oggo’s father adjusted his position to remove his face from the feathery attack launched by his ever-animated daughter’s wings before pressing forward. “Yes, he did. He most certainly did.

Seeing how powerful the Underfolk had become, he called upon the highest order of Othlyte mages, the Og Dinan. Channeling their power, they infused the nearby Gonduren Mountains with life and created the Bulke: living rock giants and the fifth great race that inhabits Rhyiz’ik-a to this day.

With this new race of sentient golems at his command, your grandfather Tozen invited the leaders of the other races—sans the Sarjanese—to a war council. Mere days before the cursing came upon the Underfolk, the Sarjanese High Priesthood had determined ongoing participation in the war was no longer the will of their Divine. Tozen was undaunted by their absence. Laying aside his own aims, and those of his Othlyte brethren, he rallied the support of the remaining leaders and considered the needs of all. United and reinforced by the Bulke, the people established the Alliance of the Goldensphere, drove the wicked Underfolk into the Darklands, and for the first time in a long time, there was peace on Rhyiz’ik-a.”

Sol looked to his daughter and saw she was all but asleep, a content whisper of a smile caught between her lips. Her little figure was finally still and resting peacefully in its colorful nest constructed of fine furs, soft silks, and plush pillows. Extracting himself from his position under Oggo with care, he stood, turned, and knelt beside her bed to tuck her in.

“Remember this, little O, your grandfather was a hero. But more importantly, you will grow up one day to be a hero too. All you need do is choose it, and it’s yours.” Gently touching his finger to her nose, Sol rose to go. Oggo smiled and allowed her heavy eyes to close. She had the best dad in the world.

Sol strode across the room and waved his hand to reduce the luster of the lights strung about the ceiling to a dim glow. “Good night, my little sorcerer.”

“I love you daddy.”

“I love you O.”