***

Meanwhile, in the obscure town of Nantillas in the far western provinces, a shadow swooped low through the alleyways in the middle of night.  It flew high on wings, engulfing the dark backstreets around it.  At the same time, a lonely man paced out of one of the side doors of a drinking establishment, grasping to a flailing stability that was fast escaping him.

The man could hear shuttering noise behind him.  By now, he was wholeheartedly drunk, and stumbled from side to side in the middle of the street, but in the back of his ear he could hear a low-pitched beating reverberation in the air as if something was following him.  He floundered around him as the sound got louder and louder.  He picked himself up and started to run.  He ran faster and faster away from the sound, charging wildly along the alleyway.  The sound came closer and closer.  He turned around and in front of him he could see a dark entangled shadow chasing him along the street.   He panicked and let out a large cry into the air.  He darted along the alleyway, covering his arms desperately over his head as the shadow swooped above him.  At last, he tumbled onto the floor and his attacker fell down and engulfed his body.

Several decades of peace had endured across the provinces.  It was a time of prosperity and optimism, when travellers could visit all regions of the map, and trade across the different regions flourished.  It was, so to speak, a belle epoque across all the provinces.  However, after that one late night drinker was engulfed in the far western provinces, the shadow continued feasting on other living beings, amassing a crowd of zombified servants.

Eventually, the shadow engulfed a particularly large human body, and formed into a leader of this crowd of zombies.  His name was Peigon, and he duly created a second in command, named Fiikras.  With the might of their zombies behind them, they ravaged and took over whole towns that once belonged to humans.  They waged war against the whole of the world, spreading from the western provinces and destroying settlements with unabated vengeance.

In the western parts of the province of Zoi, Peigon lay waiting in the ancient city of Volne.  After victories against the Ragma tribes and his seizure of the kingdom of Lazarus, he commanded an army of over 200,000 strong. His forces ranged from the savage Xaagon of the North to the shadowy night Zeije that breathed death into city dwellers at night. At the forefront of the council of Peigon, sat twisted Fiikras who could destroy the fertile minds of man.  Able to penetrate and fracture the minds of those in his way, he could distort the dimensions of their psyche breathing insanity into their soul.

Peigon marched southwards across the lands of Xanothon and  Bor laying waste to the primitive villages of the central provinces.  Neither man nor spirit could prevent his onslaught.

Izon, ruler of the spiralled city of Kleos, from where the ancient Xeon spring flowed into the bronze fountains of the city and from there into the winding rivers of the provinces, led all those who held strong to the ancient way of Xanthon against the armies of Peigon.

Izon and his forces lived according to the way of Xanthon who, in the ancient times of itinerant settlers long before the establishment of the provinces, had lived alone among white horses along the coast of the eastern parts.  He was a unique, intricate man who roamed the black slate waterfalls and caves that ran close to the shore.  Alone in the transfixing shadows of the caves, he began, in his inward, introvert solitude, to perceive matter in its intrinsic qualities.

Pressing himself against the dark grey slate of the waterfall caves, Xanthon beseeched the life of his visionary ideas from the organic Earth.  Matter, he perceived, did not only relate to its state on Earth but in the composition of its aesthetic appearance led to a world beyond.

Xanthon saw in the forms of an object's aesthetic or subjective qualities a world beyond his physical surroundings.  It beckoned to him as if opening towards a world apart from where he stood.

Amidst the noise of the falling water, Xanthon, dedicating himself to philosophical study, came to appreciate the individual qualities in objects that were common to all rather than the object alone.  By focusing on these intrinsic forms, he passed from an understanding solely of his surrounding Universe to a world beyond.  He could perceive the forms as building blocks in the structure of the entire Universe.

Xanthon's path relied upon the devout training of his mind.  He detached himself from material possessions or personal desires and lived alone with a wooden stick and a white cloak.

What he viewed as central to the immortal soul's progression towards the divine was the pursuit of philosophy and the training of mind according to logic and wisdom.  Xanthon explored the aspects of a human's mind that related to philosophical understanding and purity.  He heralded the wise, progressive parts of a human's mind, which he labelled "reason".

He sought to break away from the irascible and desirous aspects of the human soul and subjugate them under reason.  Through his philosophical study in the dark caves along the coastal shores, he saw that the mind could fall also into twisted, dark thoughts and insanity.  He saw these were in opposition to the parts of the mind that led towards philosophical wisdom and labelled them conversely "irreason".

Xanthon passed from his solitude in the waterfall caves along the shores of the eastern coast inland towards the primitive settlements of the Jekan tribes.  There he developed a group of disciples and handed down the principles he had learnt.

His word spread down through the ages and races of men and was held as the founding principles upon which nations built their towering citadels.  It permeated the land from the rising granite pinnacles of the North to the ceramic square huts of the central tropics.

By the turn the millenium since ancient Ekesra had initiated the cycle of years, descendants of the prophet Jaqlein had grouped together in the northern provinces of Kasmein and Bhagla. Originally from the fertile lands of the east where the sun nourishes the rolling fields of grain, they called themselves the Norax tribe.  Youthful Izon, born near the cattle pastures of the Jargek lands and who as an infant had milked the sacred cows, had grown to become, in the wisdom of his council and the justice he imposed, proud leader of this blossoming community.

Ruling from the ancient lotus palace above the Velayan hill that great Janakma had erected after his victory over depraved Palnaan during the age of Jeighaanan, he appointed deputies to build trade links with neighbouring states and collect taxes from the surrounding populace.

The word of Xanthon passed from the ancient prophet Jaqlein to his pupil Quinoas and from there through the ages of Zinc and Jeighaanan to the forest lands and the Norax people who flourished in the northern provinces.

They lived according to the ancient ways of Xanthon and following his teachings arranged themselves in communal meditation at the top of the spiralled towers of the city of Kleos in seated positions in front of a statue of mystical Zephres who they say appeared before wise Xanthon as he gasped at the waterfall caves in solitude.

It was the age of Zhaagen when energy was harnessed both from the changing tides of the Naasu basin that spread for miles across the coastal area of the Bhagla province and the Norda stream that  brought rain to power the turbines of the river Kawfenges and wind for the great turbines across the Akrad plains.

In the schools and temples of the land of Aaghania that encompassed the city of Kleos, citizens pledged allegiance to the image of Zarkovich.  It was a geometric arrangement of shapes that revealed in the alignment of prisms a further dimension beyond that which they could see around them.  They heralded the geometric shapes as a doorway between the material world and a mystical reflection of worldly phenomena.

Theorists would sit and gaze upon the alignment of prisms.  They looked upon shapes as if they could convey meaning and spiritual guidance in the arrangement and ratios of lines.  It was a philosophy that binded the Norax tribe like the intrinsic connection between the geometric forms they saw and transfixed beholders across the land.

Izon, hearing of the savage destruction of Peigon's armies in the central provinces and the loss of the testaments of man to the white force of Xanthon's word, prepared his wise and learned state for war.

He climbed the narrow pass up the Zekinthos mountain to the east of the sandy forests in which the city of Kleos sat and beseeched the guidance of the Laathon mystic.  Climbing up through the sacred stairway he came to the Xaana grotto and knelt before the seven branched tree.

He cried in longing prayers to the unfathomable spirit, seeking guidance on military affairs and government of the state.

Mystical Laathon, who breathed eternal guidance into the wearied minds of those who travelled to his dwellings, answered his prayers duly.  "Go forth, youthful Izon", he said, "with you armies sturdied by the white reason of Xanthon, to the province of Bor in the East.  There you will find the green pastureland that for centuries furnished food for the sacred cows.  Fight ravaging Peigon amidst the grass and rising forests.  Only a fool could mistake the sacred green land as a place for the delirious ravages of irreason.  It is foretold in the almighty constellations for on 15th day of the month Oksakon, the stars will align in a golden structure forming an equilibrium in the Universe.  On that day no army of wisdom can be destroyed by the ravages of insanity.  That shall be the day you meet Peigon in battle and bring order to the Universe."

Thus spoke mystical Laathon.  Izon, dazzled by the wise words of the spirit felt emboldened and set a course back to Kleos to bring similar courage to his subjects.

The entrancing green land that surrounded the towers of Kleos seemed to sing to Izon as he made his way back to the citadel.  The trunks of the towering trees seem to beckon to him as if rising pillars in nature's temple.

Izon set about organising his forces and all men loyal to his throne.  He sent delegates to the provinces of Korg and Jegomen beseeching forces to strengthen his armies.  He mobilised for war the great industrial lands of the Kasmein province that cultivated the weaponry and armoured suits of the infantry and floating disc-like Zordaas that flew above.

Izon's army was comprised of robustly trained Infantrymen who fought in dusty white armoured suits with black reflective helmets and were armed with Aazik laser guns capable of firing lightbeams quicker than the speed of sound.  They marched beneath flying disc-like Zordaas that twisted and turned through the towering forest trees and that were driven by specialist Onaaron whose merciless Raxookas could fire 10inch wide beams of light at helpless victims below.

Proud generals of Izon's forces and commanders of the sacred eastern guard were the legendary Xyo who spent their days in the sacred temple of Jackel in wise meditation of the teachings of Xanthon.  They dedicated themselves to the study of the intrinsic dualism that alternated throughout the Universe, the Xin and Xan.  Through continuous study of the sacred geometric alignment of Zarkovich they reached a metaphysical awakening where they could conceive the instrinsic structure of the entire Universe.

The Xyo could harness the energy brought by the constant friction between the Xin and Xan in the Universe.  Keino, the solid structure when Xin and Xan combined and the almighty stars aligned in equilibrium, was constantly unstable and violent.  It was riddled with inherent frictions at its core, invisible to the eye but which spread across the Universe in waves of energy the Xyo alone could yield.

Amidst ravaging infantry on the battlefield or facing the maddened onslaughts of the armies of Peigon, the Xyo could beam mystical light from their eyes onto the dammed souls before them.  Physical strength was worthless rather their knowledge of the structure of the Universe enabled them to traverse the skys and lands outside the laws of physics.

In a mystical happening, those who stood in the way of the Xyo were thrown backwards in an exploding wave of light that flowed from the eyes of the sacred priests.  They stood there unleashing the energy with their wooden staffs raised up to the sky front of them.  The forces of Peigon and all those who followed the way of Xan feared the power of this sacred order. 

​

After taking auspices in the sacred  Xala temple and burning incense of Faajrja before his household gods, Izon sent the 1st and 2nd battalions towards the Bor province whilst continuing to press neighbouring allies for further support.

In his considerations, he roamed from the lotus palace of Janakma above the Velajan hill down to the cobbled streets and rustic limestone spires of Kleos below.  A little boy happened to stumble into him as he walked through the Saathein markets at the foot of the Velajan hill. He was rushing across the cobbled street holding supplies in his arms and seemed gripped by uncontrollable panic.  He was knocked off guard momentarily then regathering himself looked up at the King in front of him.

"Have you heard the latest cries?" the young boy said.  "They say the forces of twisted Fiikras have taken the citadels of the Gega province and are now laying waste the red stone cities of the central provinces.  My father left 2 months ago and is now in the Hanage province with the 7th battalion of Zaag troopers.  They say if they get to the Jekkaka citadel they should be able to hold off the onslaughts of Fiikras and cut off his supplies from the South.  They're trying to use the stealth and skill of the Neskaan clan to overcome Fiikras' might in the arid planes of Ghanak. But what good are the arms of men against the twisted evils of Fiikras or the savage Naagon of the shadows. It haunts me in my dreams as if an age of suffering and slavery is falling across the East.  I see the end of these walls of Kleos and the golden forests of Aaghania.  Soon the black clouds of the Xaajoii will overcome these spiralled towers and bring the end of the land of Xan as we know it."

Thus spoke the panic-ridden boy to the wandering King.  Izon, proud in his pledge to serve all citizens alike spoke these words in reassurance to the boy:  "Cast off your fears, young child, and find the boldness to oppose those crippling evils the dark forces of Peigon feed off.  Twisted thoughts and delirium can only breed in a soul that looks downwards into the sodden, murky caves of Xin.  Look to the beacons of the East that dwell in the uppermost sanctuaries of a man's heart and that will guide you past the evils of Peigon.  Take courage in the word of Xin and these walls of Kleos will last for centuries to come."

The boy seemed struck in wonder at the celestial wisdom of the ruler.  With due respect he cast aside his unconstrained panic and acknowledged the reassuring words of the King with an accustomed bow.  Emboldened and encouraged by the wise guidance he had given and which had blessed the nation from that ancient Qaelon rostra, he continued forward through the cobbled streets of the Saathein markets with newfound hope and confidence in the power of Xan.

Izon, meanwhile, moved past the Saathein markets to the Nekrea harbour at the outer limits of the city and which was flanked on either side by the walls of Falnon.  Believing in the benefits of communion with every citizen of the state, he was eager to continue to the eastern suburbs beneath the Ghaline hill but knowing from his experience of war that the fate of the city lay in the complex provisions and plans of the council of Zeiges for the oncoming war, he set a course back to Janakma's palace.

There amongst the council of Zeiges in the courtyard of Ampala, they set about devising plans for the deployment of forces across the western provinces.  In a splinter  attack a primary task force of the 3rd, 5th and 8th battalion would be sent to Bor while the 4th would be waiting in Kasmein to cut off Peigon's armies from the South.  The 6th battalion would remain camped in the Haathein fields to watch guard over Kleos.  Izon himself would go with the primary task force to the dusty green lands of Bor.

The sacred Xyo joined the armies across the province of Bor.  Capable of conceiving the intrinsic structure of the Universe through their completed understanding of the geometric structures of Zarkovich, they could stop the motion of any attacking enemy and hold them in a  motionless void.  Manipulating the molecular physics of the world around them that through continual study they had learnt to perceive at its atomic level, they could shape the movement of all matter surrounding them.  Around 12 in number they merged within the ranks of Zaag troopers and acted as guiding generals across the three separate battalions.

Across the eastern lands, wild and opportunist Jaakorks that had spurned from the far western provinces but by the 12th century had moved eastwards in search of the booty of men, plagued the north eastern provinces attacking all unsupported infantry.  They would fall upon the unguarded camps of Zaag troopers who were accustomed to fall into a drunken sleep after nightlong bacchanalian revelry around a burning campfire and inflict upon them a lonely nighttime death.

Izon, wary to avoid the rocky wilderness of the Zambeka jungle whose dark entangling vibes and deluding overgrowth could beguile the minds of men and encircle them in an endless maze, led his men up over the arid peaks of the Korfalos mountain range to the south east of Bor.  The disc-like Zordaas flew above them as they looked from up high on the Korfalos peaks towards the sandy green land of Bor that was now before them.

Meanwhile, in the city of Volne, dark Fiikras rested in the black triangular temple of Fyor at the heart of the forbidden fortress.  He knelt down in front of a black metal altar encircled by two fire torches that dimly lit the chamber.  Kneeling in a dark hooded cloak before the metal altar, he beseeched the evil spirit of unholy Qaiysin.

Long ago Qaiysin was a student of the Xyo and passed through the temples that ran close to the high waterfalls of the sacred forests of Xeje in reflection of Keino.  He was precocious and audacious and transferred his mind to the dimension beyond at an early age.  Still impatient and ill-tempered with youth, he reached an understanding of the intrinsic structure of the Universe that took a normal Xyo a lifetime to do.

Qaiysin advanced to the sacred priesthood of Xiijika that at that time had only two among its number, Qaiysin and Jahwaka.  Jahwaka was many years older in age and had a long grey beard and aged, laboured walk.  The two priests commanded the way of the Xyo and would hold spritual lectures and guide and educate the young Xyo along the high waterfalls within the sacred forests of Xeje.

In his meditations within the temples of the sacred forest, Qaiysin started to see cracks in Keino.  As he sat alone, time seemed to stand still and he could hear repeating mellow beating sounds as if the bewildering core of the Universe was manifesting itself before him.  In his solitary occult meditation, he saw a minute crack form across the limestone wall of the temple in front of him.  The form of the line was so strange and its aura so unearthly that it was beyond that which he could understand through the ways of the Xyo.  It disturbed and unnerved him and he would return to the same temple over weeks yearning to explore the distorted sign.

He detached himself him from the rest of the Xyo and his duties as teacher but instead became infatuated by the enigmatic crack that was forever there across the wall.  During his long stares at the bewitching mark, it began, as the forces of Keino swelled across the high waterfalls of Xeje, to open up and shine forth fiery bright light across the Temple room.  The chasm got larger and larger opening up an dazzling image of fiery red light.  Transfixed at the spectacle, Qaiysin was held still and lifeless by the compressing energy of Keino and incapable of resisting the beams of light that shone brighter and brighter through the chasm into his eyes.

Before him were obscure burning images in a fiery mist.  A withered, contorted skeleton appeared from the burning cloud and lent his face forward close to Qaiysin in a daemonic stare.  It faded backwards into the fiery mist and was replaced by one of the many cobbled streets of the ancient settlements along the East.  Fire swept across the buildings and thin, burning figures filled the decaying streets.  Qaiysin could see himself as a priest kneeling before an altar in a temple surrounded by flames. There was a faint, clouded apparition to an upper left window which seemed to beckon him to draw near.  Attracted to the image, he saw himself walk across the burning stone towards the window which glowed red with the flames of the city outside.  Reaching the window, he could see the fires rage across the city before him.  Men and women rushed across the cobbled streets in ravaged spectres and flames rose up from the ground across the buildings into thick, red clouds above.  In an a arching motion his sight moved upwards to the looming sky and constellations above.  He saw a frenzied mass of fire whose dimensions seemed to confine and fall downwards upon the Earth below.  It burnt so furiously that the red flames fed down into his body and seized control of his mind.  He felt limitless power like it was burning across the Universe and a rage so strong it could engulf all minds and souls in his way.

Light from the chasm blasted faster and faster into the body of Qaiysin which by then was all consumed in an unearthly cloud of fire until at last it collapsed shut and broke into a crumble of rock.  Qaiysin was thrown backwards and, knocked unconscious, lay still on floor for several minutes.  He awoke gazing in disorientation at the ceiling above.  It circled round and round slowly above him as if in a timeless vortex.  He was stirred by the burning chasm and thought of the energy of its fires.  It inflamed his mind with visions of burning glory and destroyed his soul with all-consuming thirst to wield to the glowing fires of the Xin formations.

He thought in disorientation of the flames through the chasm and the energy of the burning world.  It turned him inwards and he looked into his own egomaniacal ambitions and lust to rule over men with the force of this burning energy of Keino.  It was like an energy of the unharnessed Xin structures of Keino that ran through with the fire and contortion of the relentless particles.

Qaiysin would beseech Jahwaka continuously imploring him to adopt this new conception of Keino.  The two priests of the Xiijika would argue furiously in the inner temples of the Xeje forests. Qaiysin wanted to unleash the fiery power that dwelt in the Xin structures of Keino and with its power spread the Xyo's might across the southern lands.  He saw the rule of Keino stretch across the Zathek lands to the far reaches of the Eskon shores built upon the fires of this new energy.  Jahwaka, instilled through decades of study with an aged measuredness both in his treatment of human psychology and forces of the cosmos, was wary of this newfound energy of Xin for he foresaw its dissolution and defilement of men under the corrupting wrath of its fires.

The arguments would rage with more and more violence as the two priests argued in favour of their differing visions of Keino.  Qaiysin spread his conception of Keino into the crowds of students who flocked across the Xeje waterfalls and stirred their minds with ardent images of this revolutionary conception's potential.

In his bewitching corruption of the soul's of men, he amassed himself a group of around 14 Xyo, most young in age who had been entranced by the omnipotent power of the darker energy.  They turned to hatred with increasing anger at Jahwaka and the rest of the Xyo who they viewed as limiting and withholding the full potential of Zathon energy.

As the sky grew dark with a looming storm, the dissident Xyo gathered amidst the shadows of the Xekii courtyard and planned to murder Jahwaka and seize command of the Xyo.  Using the darkness of the night and the distortion of the sky as their cover, they plotted to seize upon Jahwaka as he finished his nightly prayers alone in the Xiikon temple.  Once slain, they would seize control of the Xyo order and subjugate all other Xyo under their rule.

Ighor, priest of the Xyo, led the nighttime attack at the heart of darkness through the trickling waterfalls and thickets of the sacred Xeje forest.  Approaching the Xiikon temple, he could see its light silk curtains blow out across the rocky cliff edge to the East and its circular marble pillars tower high above the isolated mount.

Inside Jahwaka sat in tranquil reflection of Keino, fuelling his mind with the three central pillars of wisdom.  He took guidance from Ashwada of Zakinthon, the proud cornerstone of altruism and self-sacrifice to philosophical study, Kashada of Ekenthon who had shown the way for men to benevolence and compassion to all creatures and finally Trakarda of Icaria, who had taught the devout pursuit of wisdom not for earthly gains but for the alignment of immortal souls across the cosmos and so the progress of humanity.

Ighor, leading the attack, crept slowly to the outer wall of the temple and rested silently with his body pressed against the wall in the shadows. The room was dark and wind swept through the marble pillars out across the flailing fabric sides and the cliff to East. Jahwaka was in the centre of the room deep in solitary meditation.  The inner temple seemed solemn and cold and the marble pillars arched upwards into a towering stone dome above.

The maddened priest, who had lost his soul to the fires of wrath, pushed forward out of the group of murderous Xyo and broke through into the temple perimeter.  Concealing himself in his long, black cloak, he swooped across the solemn temple floor like the shadowy black hawks of the North and, withdrawing a dagger from within his cloak, lunged upon the aged ruler.

Jahwaka's mind, as he sat still in the centre of the room in reflection of Keino, did not dwell in the material world where it could be slain by the wrath of Ighor.  He had seen the ancient fountains of Zathik from which the particles that spread across the cosmos first sprung and could conceive of the atomic formations that conjoined the 4 dimensions of Zekuan and formed the pillars of the Universe.  He could see the molecular ripples in Keino as wrathful Ighor lunged with the steel weapon in hand and saw the motion of the particles as if he could hold them within his mind.

Ighor, falling upon the silent priest, was held in a void that seemed to stop in time as Jahwaka turned his head towards him.  Jahwaka lifted his left arm as he turned round from the side and held the attacker still in the middle of the air.  He got up and turned around to face the entranceway, maintaining grip on the floating priest all the time.  Raising his hands forwards up into the air, he thrust the priest backwards into the darkness from which he came.

The other murderous Xyo, astounded by the sudden awakening of Jahwaka and Ighor's cruel plight, flocked back to the central mass of temples close to the high waterfalls of the Xeje forest.  They rushed furiously through the darkness of the Xeje thickets which possessed a mystical charm and buzzed with nighttime crickets.

Qaiysin, who rested in his temple close to the central square below the cliffs near the waterfalls, rushed out into the central clearing hearing the commotion.  "What is this noise," he shouted out to the returning men, "has the deed been done?  Does his blood run across the marble floors of the high temples?"

"Your Lord," spoke Dakara, one of the elders of the muderous group, who emerged out of the rattled mob. "Jahwaka foresaw our attack.  The might of Ighor or the rest of our group could do nothing against his wisdom and knowledge of Keino.  He cast off Ighor as he plunged down on top of him with dagger in hand and sent him flying back from where he came.  No attack could prevail against him."

Qaiysin cursed at the floor before violently emitting in fury a mass of burning fire from his wooden staff upwards into the air.  It burnt into the glistening green trees torching all things in its way.  Ighor and the failed group of murderous Xyo fell away out shame of their failure and flocked to the disparate temples and dwellings of the Xyo.

Qaiysin became alone and continued seething with anger and bitter rage.  He roamed the sacred grove in the Xazathine square alone and let out his furor on the surrounding forest. 

Meanwhile, Jahwaka, having cast off Ighor and the attempted murder plot, had passed through the thickets of the Xeje forest towards the Xanathine square in search of the source of the plot.  He roamed through the sacred quarters of the Xyo close to the Xanathine square.

Trudging carefully through the forest and peering quietly through the high green plants, he could see Qaiysin walking alone in the garden of the Xanathine square.  Broaching the square boundaries through the high thickets, he appeared before unruly Qaiysin.  

"You have corrupted the youth of Xyo with false illusions of the darker side of Keino," he declared before Qaiysin.  "There is only murder and treachery to be found in this side.  I beg you to see reason, Qaiysin, and give up this new form of Keino."

Qaiysin was dressed in a dark black cloak and holding a sacred Xyo lantern in his left hand.  He paced gently around the centre of the square, shrouded in darkness beneath his cloak, while staring furiously at Jahwaka like his eyes were those of a tiger.  "You have no knowledge of the power of this new form of Keino," he replied from across the garden.  "It's might will extend the Xyo's power for eternity!"

"You're wrong, Qaiysin," Jahwaka replied brushing through the thickets and slowly encircling Qaiysin at the centre of the square. "This new structure of Keino is riddled with anger and rage.  Can't you see! It will only lead to murder and bloodshed!"

Qaiysin's eyes lit up orange with wrath and his rage was getting stronger and stronger as Jahwaka spoke. "You limit the power of the Xyo!" He shouted back defiantly at him.  You will not let the fires of Xin burn across the provinces! A new age will dawn where the burning structures of Xin reign over man!"  The fires of his wrath could no longer be yoked and he blast out burning flames from his staff towards Jahwaka.  However the flames could not harm the languid old priest for he created, out of his knowledge of Keino, a transparent force-field which repelled the oncoming fire.

"You fire will never overcome the power of Xan!", he cried as he struggled beneath the fire.  It is weighed down by lust and fury!  It will never prevail over the ancient wisdom of Xan!"  With that he thrust his force-field against Qaiysin and cast him off into the thick green overgrowth that surrounded the Xanathine square.

Qaiysin turned and fled from the high waterfalls of the Xeje forest.  He travelled to the obscure provinces of the North and, taking with him around eight Xyo in number, settled near the granite stone peaks of the Nordik mountains.  His followers died out and he perished from old age but his word spread on through the dark tribes of the northern provinces.

The word of Qaiysin had passed through the ages of Baltak and Org and was worshipped in the triangular temple of Fyor in burning offerings before the metal altar.

Fiikras stood shrouded in a dark cloak in front of a black altar in the sacred Fyor temple in the heart of the unholy city of Qlork.  Burning incense lanterns from across the stone floor in front of him shrouded the room in a deep gloom and the dark granite walls trickled with water from the damp sewers above.

​

He knelt down over the altar's steps with the hood of his cloak concealing his wretched face below.  Pledging allegiance to the fires of wrath and the unholy Xin formations, he beckoned towards the invisible furor that dwelt in the cosmos.

​

It was the lifeblood that fuelled the veins and arteries in his body.  It spoke to him like fire to a dragon and he felt stronger by the fiery particles of Keino, as if the electrolytes in his body were conjoined in an electric mainframe of the Xin formations.

​

Strengthening his might and igniting the wrath and anger within him that he had achieved through deep and continual meditation on the Xin formations, he looked up at the light coming through the temple's balistraria in front of him.  With the energy of the Xin formations within him, he felt the wrathful power that spread across the northern provinces.

​

He began to beat his chest, murmuring the shout "ahumbaba, ahumbaba" in a repetitive rhythm.  Engrossed in the wrathful Xin formations, the might of his body broached the surrounding air and began to float momentarily above the floor.  Meditating solely on the Xin formations, he transformed the energy of the Keino formations into his own physical power.  

Uttering the words “the word of Qaiysin, forgotten but never lost” he awoke himself from the deep trance of Xin meditation and he began to fall back down on the ground.  Pondering on the realisations he had discovered through meditation, which those in the city of Qlork called Rajun yoga, he resolved to proceed with the assault on the lands of Izon with newfound vengeance.  

Resting tiresomely on the granite stone of the Fyor temple, his mind lay heavy after the exerts of his meditation however his appetite for war grew with the vengeance of his study, and he arose to return to his council’s chambers. 

There, within the inner walls of the citadel of Blorn, he approached his council for war.  Arriving at the central communications office, which was comprised of a large map at the centre surrounded by communications channels running along each wall, he addressed the council as follows:

“My fellow citizens of Qlork.  In no other era has the word of Xin more terrified men of all kinds.   In no other age has it given us more strength and power.  My fellow kinsmen, we must exert what we have behind us in accordance with the ancient way of Qaiysin.  A new dawn has come where the word of Xan that defiles the eastern provinces is nothing but a fly in an ocean of lions.  Join me in the way of Xin and we will spread our power for eternity!”

​

Thus spoke the fire-hearted ruler.  Geiguan, one of the chieftains of the council, spoke these words in reply: 

“Your Lord.  Our forces are now laying waste the western cities of Florn and Gegomein.  The enemy fear our onslaughts more and more with every day that passes.  We must deploy the 3rd and 4th battalions without hesitation and let the blood of the ancestors of Xanthon run full with terror.” 

Fiikras, peering over the map at the centre of the room, looked at Geiguan and replied duly:

“What news have we of the eastern guard in the province of Bor?  Have the sacred Zeije inflicted defeats on Izon’s numbers in the forest lands?”

“My Lord”, replied Eschel, one of the chieftains surrounding the map at the centre, “They’re approaching the citadel of Hebula.  Izon’s battalions in the province of Bor will be severely weakened by the start of the next lunar cycle”

“Then we must attack Izon in the province of Bor,” replied Fiikras looking down upon the area of Bor on the central map.  “We must drive Izon into defeat where his guard is least war-tested, where his numbers are frail from lack of war-experience.” 

“Aye, agreed,” replied Geiguan.  “We must send the 3rd and 4th battalions to meet Izon in battle in the province of Bor without delay.  The way of Xan will no longer stand in the way of the ancient way of Xin.” 

​

Meanwhile, Izon had led his forces west to the plains of Bor and he lay camped to the side of the Zeka forest on an escarpment facing west.  

Arising on a morning in which the sun shone full in the sky and only a light breeze blew in from the east, he passed from his royal quarters at the centre of the fort and approached a mount that looked out over the infantry’s tents ready to address his forces.  In his defiant rousing of his troops, he spoke these words as follows:

"My fellow citizens of Aaghania.  The day has come when we must face the forces of Fiikras in battle.  Remember the lives of your ancestors and all those throughout history who have fought to preserve the ancient way of Xanthon.  It is the customs and standards of this very nation that we are called here to defend.  Look out at the land in front of you.  Look at the ancient green forests and rolling fields of grain, that all are built upon the rule of Xan.  Defend these lands like the mother she is to us all.  Take the glory that is waiting for you.  It is yours!"

​

Thus spoke King Izon and he paced away from the mount, from which he had addressed his army, and turned back towards his quarters ready to arm himself for the oncoming battle.

What peril and treachery lies before any infantrymen facing such rage from the fires of the path of Xin.  How can the fortitude of men withstand such terrors that twisted Fiikras breaths in to the inner soul of those who stand in his way.  However, on this occasion it was foretold in the almighty constellations that on the coming day, Izon would not face the bitter winds of misfortune.  

Having armed himself with the sacred armour of Asquith that had passed through generations of the royal line, he mounted his horse and led his troops towards the edge of the escarpment.  

The 5th and 6th battalions were arranged so that the 5th battalion occupied the central ground, coordinated so that the infantry and cavalry would charge simultaneously, while the 6th battalion occupied the flanks and was comprised of archers in the nearby forests and cavalry, lying ready as skirmishers.

​

They approached the upper ridge of the escarpment and looked out over the plain below.  The land seemed wild and forlorn, and the wind howled through the open grass in front of them up and across their faces as they stood there.  

Alas in times of war, how the wretched twists of fortune can turn moments of hope and bravery into plight.  To their dismay, before them, at the far side of the plain, stood Fiikras’ 3rd and 4th battalions.  Armed with spears, shields and trebuchets, they were arranged with the infantry at the front, cavalry in between and trebuchets behind ready to fire on command.  In the might of their numbers, they seemed to outnumber Izon’s battalions 5 to 1.

Almbur, general of Izon’s eastern guard, emerged from the ranks of troops ready to seek council with the King.  Weary with fear and apprehensive about the oncoming battle owing to the paucity of Izon’s numbers, he spoke these words to the great King:

"Your royal highness.  Fiikras’s forces outnumber us 5 to 1.  He has the plains of Jekuan and the surrounding forests under his control.  There can be no way in which we come out victorious in this battle.  Now is the time to turn back and strengthen our defences in the forts of Zackua.  There is no other path for us to follow.”

Thus spoke the wearied general.  Baleon, commander of Izon’s cavalry of the 5th battalion, emerged from the line of cavalry and interjected amongst the debate of generals.  He spoke these words as follows:  

“Your royal highness.  How can we turn back now?  If we turn back now we’ll lose the province of Bor and our armies will soon be defeated in the eastern lands.  We must take courage in the word of Xan and face Fiikras in battle before it is too late.” 

​

Almbur interjected again, continuing to press his concerns on the aged ruler.

“There can be no hope of us winning this battle,” he said, forcefully directing Izon with his arms in a desperate attempt to persuade the King in favour of his argument.  “We must retreat and protect our forces.”

​

"I cannot do it," Izon replied at last defiantly.  "This is our chance to destroy the armies of Peigon.  We must take it before it slips away."

​

"Aye.  You heard the King!"  Shouted Baleon turning and staring at the line of infantry.   "We must attack now!"

​

Almbur interjected again, furiously trying to stop the oncoming battle.  “If you start this battle, thousands of our troops will be slaughtered.  It will be a massacre!”

​

 “The word of Xan will never be defeated!” Cried Baleon, raising his sword up in front of him and forcefully beseeching the army’s appetite for war.  "Now is the time for victory!"

​

Alas how the minds of men can succumb to thirst for bloodshed.  A distant general in the 5th battalion sounded the ancient horn of Eskerald.  It’s triumphant sound blew out across the ranks of infantry and cavalry, fuelling their hearts with precipitous and brazenfaced courage.  

​

Like the savage winds of the North, Izon’s armies hurtled down the escarpment towards Fiikras’ battalions.  

The commander of Peigon’s armies had stationed his forces in a phalanx formation with longmen at the front holding pikes out towards the oncoming chargers.  Like the clatter of a blacksmith's nail in a horse’s hoof, the two forces met in a mass of fury as they smashed into one another.  

Thumbar, son of Glane, wielded his sword like the giants of Elderon, slaying two from the numbers of Fiikras, while Blorg, son of Klaxes, thrust his spear into three oncoming Zeije.  

​

In this way the battle was waged with equal bloodthirst and fury on each side.  Great heroes who had survived through the wars of Bornarar and Blark were slain and perished from this world, while others, clinging to the courage they found in the way of Xan, dodged the spears of Fiikras and twisted and turned through the melé.

​

Izon, lamenting his forces’ sudden charge, was forced to ride down into the battleground below.  He hacked away at the long men raising their pikes up into the sky as he rode in and amongst the fighting.  

Like the strife of a mouse being hunted by a cat, Izon’s forces wielded their swords wildly, to-ing and fro-ing amongst Fiikras’s forces and savage Xaagthon of the North.  Dandron, son Bleixes, was slain by two long men and passed solemnly into the Underworld, while Omalon, son of Bleander, found the upper ground against two Xaagthon and mercilessly thrust his spear deep within their bodies.  

The battle continued raging for close to an hour, before the paucity of Izon’s numbers could no longer hold off Fiikras’ wicked onslaughts.  Losing the higher ground on the plain, the dwindling numbers of Zaag troops could no longer withhold Fiikras’ longmen from driving their phalanx formation forward across the field.  Outnumbered and isolated by the longmen’s formation, they were being driven backwards and losing soldiers fast.  

​

Esquilith, son of Zandron, riding on horseback near the King, looked in dismay at the soldiers being slaughtered before him.  “We must turn back, your highness.  We’ve lost too many men," he said, looking up towards him.

“Aye.  Sound the horn.” Replied Izon, fiercely trying to stop his horse buckling from the surrounding turmoil.  “The battle is lost.”

Thus the horn of Eskerald was sounded again and this time cries of retreat were shouted out across Izon’s battalions.  Duly the infantry turned and ran desperately towards the ridge of the escarpment, while the cavalry snaked forwards ahead, precariously trying to dodge Fiikras’ oncoming spears that were being launched through the air towards them.

​

Alas, wicked Fiikras, who for years of warfare had been the cruel torturer of soldiers’ minds, had cleared a path through the line of infantry, viciously slaying Zaag troopers in his way with a steel club in hand.  He emerged through the battlefield and, seeing Izon looking to the side in a desperate call to his forces to retreat, struck him down from his horse.  

Izon was thrown onto the ground and suddenly had to raise his shield up above his head to prevent Fiikras' savage hammer of his club from pummelling into his head.  Again Fiikras pummelled his club down against Izon, this time smashing into the ground as Izon dashed to the side.  Fiikras continued his assault, pounding his club into into the shield of Izon again as he held it desperately above his head.  

In the brute force of Fiikras’ attack, he smashed through the shield of Izon and the aged ruler lay defenceless on the ground.  Like savage giants of the North, Fiikras swung his club up above his head ready to pummel it down on Izon as he lay there.  From above the head of Fiikras, the club swung down, heading for the direction of Izon’s head.  

​

As he lay there, Izon could see a faint spectre emerge from the distance to the right of Fiikras.  It swooped slowly across the space in front of him holding a white staff in front of him while his long white cloak draped behind.  Emerging between Fiikras’ savage club and Izon as he lay defenceless on the floor, it came to halt and, standing proud as faint spectre like the clouds of the sky, it beamed glowing white light from his staff into the eyes of Izon as he lay in desperation on the ground.

Before Izon was a blossoming summer’s orchard.  Apple trees were dotted around and the grass grew high above the ground with seeds blowing away in the wind at the top.  Close by to the right of him was an Oak tree, whose proud branches grew high into the sky, adorned with plentiful vibrant leaves and birds flying around close to their nests.  A young boy was leaning on the trunk of the tree beneath the branches.  Seeing Izon noticing him, he awakened and called out to the desperate ruler.

“Follow me,” he said, beckoning the King to follow as he moved away from the tree trunk leading him onwards across the meadow.  Desperate, and clutching to the flailing life he had, Izon proceeded to follow, unaware of where he was being taken.  They passed through groups of apple trees and rows of vineyards in turn, flowing deliriously through the orchard that seemed to be blossoming with birds and insects.  As the meadow became increasingly rocky, the started to ascend higher above sea level, climbing through a rocky pathway towards what seemed the top of a mountain.

​

Arriving at the top, Izon looked out over a great valley below.  A river ran through the centre, while horses galloped across the rolling plains and small individual settlements occupied the lands close to the dense woodland on either side.  Emerging from his left, a figure appeared to be walking towards him.  Judging from his long staff and aged, laboured walk, it appeared to Izon to be the legendary Jahwaka, high priest of the Xyo. 

​

Approaching Izon, he spoke these words to the great King as follows:

​

"Izon, son of Halzud, I have come before you to show you the pathway to save the ancient ways of Xanthon.  Look out over the valley in front of you.  Each and every particle you see is part of the great system of Keino.  The way of Xan cannot be touched, it can be found by digging through the Earth or building great citadels.  It is embedded in the dimensions of everything around you.  You must look to the true reality in every object, you must understand the true nature of all matter, and that will reveal the ultimate reality of the Universe.  Someone who understands the complete structures of the cosmos cannot be defeated in battle."

​

Thus spoke the high priest of the Xyo.  Weary like the dying trees of the Nordik mountains, Izon was held overwhelmed by the wise reason of Jahwaka.  Gaining courage by the words he had heard, the world around him disappeared away from him and regained consciousness lying down on the battlefield.

As Fiikras’s steel club swung down, Izon held it motionless in the air.  Lying bereft on the ground, by focusing solely on the club, he could control it within his mind.  Dislodging the club through the power his possessed in his knowledge of Keino, he thrust back behind Fiikras into the distance.

Controlling the matter around him and igniting it in his own power, he beamed bright light from his eyes, decimating the body of Fiikras in front of him.  

​

Fiikras’s forces, seeing his demise, turned and ran towards the forests in retreat.  Izon, himself stood up and regathered himself, calling over to Esquilith from the soldiers who had regrouped towards the escarpment.  “Send news to the troops,” he said.  “The battle is won.” 

Thus Izon’s forces regathered and paying respect to the dead, they returned to the city of Kleos.  Without Fiikras in command, Peigon’s forces became fragmented and isolated, and they lost their potency in the way of Xin.  

No longer a threat to the provinces of the East, Izon and his forces celebrated their victory in the ancient fortress of Ezcarald in the city of Kleos, igniting burning offerings in memory of their dead and raising lanterns into the sky as a hopeful tribute to the omens of the sky.  

Thereafter, peace was established across the provinces of the East and Izon established the order of Xaagthon, unifying the great councils of nearby lands.  How the long winding tales of misfortune had beset Izon and his populace, however, at last, they were allowed to rest in slumberly repose.

​

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THE END