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A Teaching of the Gods

Part Two: Targon

He was late yet again for my studies, although this time he had no excuse to recite for me, he simply apologised and sat down. I rose a brow at this but nonetheless I took to my tutoring, lessons went long into the evening, till the sun began to set. True to his word Fyr did his best to be diligent and attentive throughout and I knew the boy to hold me to my promise to.

“So which God are you going to tell me about today Sir"? He asked as I closed the lessen and moved through a doorway and into my private study, thumbing over books till I'd found the right one and brought it out. An ancient tome it was something I had nicked from the grand scholars archives atop the Tora Mountains in Mirodel.

“Well we learned of Aldinama last week, tis only fair we continue with Targon, Father of Beasts." I said, seating myself and pawing through the pages till my eyes fell on the script I sought, Fyr was sitting with an eager look in his eyes. I had no idea why he'd such a fascination for the golds of old, most were dead now days.

“Tell me what you know of Targon"? I questioned, the boys face fell into thought, Targon was a well known god, but known only for few things by many.

“Well I know he's Aldinamas husband and that he's associated with knighthood." he shrugged, my face furrowed, the boy wanted to learn these things yet knew little, ever the student, ignorant and like sheep.

“Targon, was depicted as a mighty man, clad in markings of the stars and moons, wearing little but pelts, scaled hide and leather. It was said that he claimed Dragonholme after fighting an Earth elemental for seven days and nights. His final stroke burst the very clouds themselves and so rain poured down for everyday of that year, cold and persistent." I started, I myself had no belief in such things, I was a man of the word afterall,a fables and tales like these were clearly fake, or so I would have thought if two of the Elder Gods didn't still roam the lands.

“It is said that the rain corroded the land, turning most of it to marsh and mangrove, and that the earth elemental fell on the border of the Northern Tundra. The Great Northern Divide is said to be the monsters spine." Fyr was already writing down every word, and making small doodles on his parchment, if only he was so enthusiastic with my lectures on the Human brain.

“With the land now drenched, the dry soil was said to have given way to lush grass, woodland and dence wetlands. And it was that Targon became restless with no one to fight, so he took to crafting the monstrous beasts of the world. From the arctic Saperhawk to the deep dwelling leviathan and even the dune crawling beetles of Gillian." I continued on, thumbing through the pages with a bored expression and a flat tone.

Fyr however was far more enthralled then I, his eyes were alight, practically at the edge of his seat, again I wondered why he showed not such enthusiasm for my lectures.

“He created the Dragons too didn't he"? The boy asked as I mused at illustrations upon the pages before me; I gave him a simple nod.

“Yes we spoke of this last time, He and Aldinama birthed them as mother and father, but of course that was long before any of us existed, at least within Dragonholme. Hence the lands name, as many know Holme is the word for home in the old Ironn tongue. The lands true name is actually Daggenholme, Daggen for Dragon, and Holme, for home, the true name eroded with the passing of time, and of course the White War." I spoke, my voice taking a more gleeful spring as things descended into history and politics, but I could see the boy's interest fading quick as I rambled along; so I stopped.

“Oh course the first born Dragon wasn't Targons only child, He did conceive another before his vow to the Serpent goddess." That had his attention regained immediately. The boy had a fascination with the gods that I didn't understand, but it did spark an idea in my head.

“Heri, right"? He asked, voice sharp and loud with excitement, I gave him another nod as I found the page I sought in the book I held. All in all the book was in fact a text upon the studies of the body, not some tome of myth and account; the information I was reciting was all from memory.

“Indeed, Hericious, God of Strength, a human born God, wrought from a maiden whose name now is known only to the Gods themselves. Hericious is said to be built like the mountains themselves, and possess the strength of his younger brother Kadar, they say that Hericious was the one whom went in search of the Smith God. As the account goes he intended to have a weapon made, one so terrible that it would scorch away the land it touched in an instant." I said, speaking in ominous tones on purpose, to enthral the boy, there was no reason for me to be flat with the story, history supported it of course, and it would ensure he remained keen.

“The spear right? It's one of the relics, they say it lays in the tomb of Kadar" Fyr questioned, once more I nodded, I knew the weapon intimately, I had studied it from its resting place and various texts describing its power.

“Yes, Halger Hericious called it, again Old Ironn tongue, translates into Vengeance, though it was not he who cast it, but Targon himself, for the war had sapped his strength. He alone traveled to the shores of what is now known as Aldoran. It once was part of Volthume, but Targon was full of pain and hate for the death of his youngest son, and as he plunged the tip of the spear into the soil…" I paused, setting the book aside and lowering my glasses, pausing on purpose simply to catch my breath, I had difficulties breathing sometimes, a developing issue in which study was still anew.

“...Ahem, as the Spear touched the land, at once did the grass perish, the trees burst into flames and the entire lower third of Voltume was turned to arid clay and dirt. What is now known as Aldoran, and indeed does this weapon still exist, held and guarded within Kadars tomb where Targon and his youngest son are buried." I wanted not to speak of this anymore, the White War had been a horrible thing, infamous, the lives lost during were unfathomable, and on that day did man also learn that the Gods were not immortal, and that their wrath was greater than ever thought possible.

“...you look tired sir, would you like to rest? It is late." Fyr asked, I was surprised that the boy would offer such, then again he did speak true. Hence I nodded and rose slowly from my chair, dawning my glasses once more and stowing the book back to its rightful place.

“Yes, it is, Analies would be wondering where you are no? I shall see you next week Fyr, now run along, back to the orphanage with you at once." I said, and with that the boy nabbed up his bag and left promptly, scribbling something down in his journal. I however made my way from my study out to the city, heading off to the inquiry office nearby. I had to pace myself, my breathing issue lingering some as I slipped inside and showed the soldier manning the office my crest.

“Evening Sir Mortimer, how'st thou this fine night"? The man asked me, a warm smile upon his sharp face. He was clad in typical Inquiry officers uniform, mostly light fabrics and a few small plates of thin steel.

“I need a courier, not just any either, this message is to be swift…" I said, tone low, the man merely nodded to me before looking to see if any other officers were about. He then motioned for me to follow him from the office, to a small dirt courtyard nestled tight between the taller buildings. I followed him further, through a narrow laneway, past a requisitions depo and into another small courtyard where he stopped and turned to wait as lookout. I however entered with a confident stride, a parchment dug from my tunic.

“...Is zat you my ears spy Mortimer"? Came an exotic voice from the dark of the underhang embedded into one side of the courtyard. I didn't confirm it, there was no need, my Spy was to keen to warrant such introduction or confirmation.

“To Dragonholme with you, you know who to look for and where" I said, speaking soft as I held out the parchment in hand and let it be taken by a clawed wing like appendage.

With that I left, saying not a word more and returned to my abode.