Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Evenmithra ❯ Thricemoon ( Chapter 3 )

Sorry this chapter has taken so long, I needed time to get my ideas straight.

Thricemoon

The three moons hung in a midnight blue sky. Yolei remembered well the histories of them. They gave the world it's name, "Thricemoon". But they had a deeper meaning. Long ago, when the world was new and nameless, three peoples had come from north, east and west, to be lords and teachers of the old-humans. First to come were the Nôren, "Bold-ones". They were the bravest and strongest fighters in all the worlds and they taught the old-humans the value of courage and chivalry. The Nôren came from the east, from the wild forest of Markstone and they were heralded by the golden moon Arnathmen.

Second were the Tarmethi, "The skilled". They were great smiths and artisans, who would make beautiful things just for the joy of shaping metal or stone or wood. They taught the old-humans their arts, and though their pupils made many wondrous objects, the Tarmethi were the true masters in the skills of shaping. They built great grey ships and sailed to Thricemoon from the far west. The silver moon Nayú was said to have been fashioned from their dreams.

Third, and perhaps greatest, were the wise and ancient Ynaýthem, the only beings powerful enough to wield Magic. The came over the northern mountains almost ten centuries after the Tarmethi, for they lingered in the Halls of the Stars, their birthplace. They brought with them an ancient and powerful relic, Anaamathi, the Star of the North, a jewel some say was once indeed a star that the Ynaýthem took from the sky when they left the Halls. Unlike their two kindreds the Ynaýthem did not teach their art to the old-humans, for none but they could wield it. Instead they taught the speaking arts: telling, writing and even singing, though music was a Tarmethi art. They were also the originators of the language know as the Ancient Tongue. The Ynaýthem were a tall lordly people, very proud and confident, yet they understood the importance of humility. The greatest of the Ynaýthem were the Wizard Kings and Queens. There was only ever one King or Queen at a time, who was known either as the Evenmith or the Evenmithra. The white moon, Manthé, was beloved by the Ynaýthem, who taught that it was the source of their power.

Yolei was pulled from her reverie by Ken who had apparently followed her to the top of the tower.

"The moons are beautiful, aren't they?" he mused, "I've always wondered which one I belong to."

"I don't know either," said Yolei, "I might be Tarmethi, I'm good at metalworking. You?"

"I can't say, I don't know where I belong,"

"You might be Nôren," said Yolei, remembering the encounter with the wolves. "Or an old-human. They're important too. I mean, the Races each have one moon, but the old-humans have the stars."

"My father is Nôren, I think my brother was too. But my mother. . . she's something else. I don't know what. She's never told anyone."

Suddenly the sound of footsteps rang on the stone staircase. Mistress Mimi, who had given the Wizard the banner, emerged onto the roof. In one hand she carried an object wrapped in dark cloth. She held it out to Ken.

"You mother bade me bring this," she said sweetly, "She hoped that you would wield it in memory."

"Mimi, you know that I swore never to use a sword. Especially this sword."

~*~

Between the world of Thricemoon and another there was a gap. It was not really a place, for places imply plants, animals . . . life. This was completely and utterly empty; it was Nothing.

Only one race had ever survived in Nothing. They had pale grey skin, charcoal coloured eyes and hair like mother of pearl. They might have been beautiful, but their eyes were set very close together, giving them a sly and untrustworthy look. It was not their custom to give one another names; they knew each other merely by the varying imprints of thought that they gave off in this dismal place.

They did not know how they had arrived in Nothing, beyond that they had been banished from Thricemoon when the Ynaýthem arrived. They hated the Ynaýthem, though most did not know why. Their greatest ambition was to find a way into Thricemoon and destroy the Races, mostly of course the Ynaýthem. But for this they needed a gateway, an object that they could focus their remaining power on and use to enter the world. For many aeons a suitable gateway could not be found, but now one had. The leader knew this, but how would he persuade the Elders that it was the best choice? He was leader merely because his thoughts were strongest, the Elders held real power. This gateway would change that . . . forever.