The Falling Stars of Qiyl

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

For once long ago there were none

When warriors wished add to their tally

And Felsu’Estira’d* begun

The armies they’d marsh towards their glory

Diviners would gaze into flame

Minstrels with lutes sang their stories

Knights of Estira’s their name

There weren’t always Chimera in the desert

Nor Kraken beneath frothy waves

There weren’t always Hydra in swamplands

Nor Cyclopses hiding in caves

But always have been there the Heroes

To stand ‘gainst the terrors so called

By fiends, all unseen

So is your soul clean

Can you stand ‘gainst the stars as they fall

*"False Star"

~ Excerpt from a children’s song attributed to Flint the Bard, circa 2875

A hundred or more elite guard were gathered on the bluff, with another thousand warriors, armed and ready, camped on the wide cliff just below. Below that still (far below, in fact) at the foot of the Calathian Mountains, stood the city of Qirhalan.

Qirhalan, the capital of the Qiyl Empire and the second largest city in the Qiyl Valley, was the seat of the Empress Pryala, herself. From this vantage atop the bluff, the palace could be easily distinguished as the largest and most beautiful structure, right at the center of the city.

Lord Dalan stood on the bluff and he lowered his eyes from the heavens for a moment to look down towards the city. The Nirlyn River wound serpentine off into the distance. Anchored at it's banks, five score barges sat at the ready. On the banks themselves the golden-purple twilight glinted off the armor of fifteen thousand strong warriors, assembled and waiting to board the barges at a moments notice (depending on where they wound end up going).

“If they end up going anywhere,” muttered Lord Dalan to himself.

Evening was falling over Qirhalan. Dalan looked to his right, to the where the purple-rimmed sun was sinking behind the Ghrorian Mountain range far off to the west.

Soon the stars would be out in full and another long night’s vigil would commence. Already dozens on the bluff were approaching the cliffs edge, their eyes upturned towards the heavens.

“Another clear night! We are fortunate!”

Lord Dalan turned to see Lord Henrik had approached. He turned his eyes upward towards the stars.

Lord Henrik was in his mid forties, a decade older than Dalan. Compared to Dalan’s bare face, he had a short cropped beard of reddish hue. While Dalan chose somber earth tones, accented with mute silvers for his attire, Henrik preferred something a bit more daring, often in greens or reds with black and gold accents. While Dalans house sigil sat proudly but mutely on his right upper shoulder, Henrick’s sigil was situated in the center of his chest with a bright green checkered border.

“Mmm, fortunate,” replied Dalan. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Though, in hours or days, we may have a different idea of what ‘fortune’ might mean.”

“Always doom and gloom, Lord Dalan,” Henrik said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I choose to believe that this cycle will be an easy one. The fall will occur far from here and be a simple task for the locals to sweep the danger away before our barges even set sail.”

“That would be a blessing, wouldn't it?” Dalan said, not taking his eyes off the heavens.

“So diligent you are, Lord Dalan. You have been watching round the clock. Perhaps a rest, my Lord?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Lord Henrik.”

Henrik sighed.

“Very well, some coffee at least then as we watch?”

Dalan smiled slightly.

“Yes, some coffee would be welcome.”

One of Henrik’s aides brought the men a rich brewed roast, which tasted to Dalan like something from one of the southern cities. The evening grew darker. The city below was a beautiful spectacle of burning lights - purples and golds and reds. The river itself became a black coiling snake, barely visible in the darkness. Lights were kept at a minimum in the camp so as to not ruin the watcher’s eyes for the hunt.

After a while, Henriks gave his leave and returned to his own area, leaving Dalan alone by the edge of the bluff.

Dalan watched alone for a while. The skies were dark now, with no light from the sun to be seen. The moon was only a faint crescent on the horizon. The stars, though, offered their own light, so many there were! Tens of thousands of visible pinpoints of light, too many to even count! Every few minutes a meteorite would flash across the sky. Dalan could hear the sharp intakes of breath from the other watchers nearby and once or twice a meteorite would present in such a way as to mimic a Felsu Estiri and someone along the bluff would call it out. Other watchers, though, would correct them and the vigil continued. It gave Dalan a feeling of relief to know others were watching as closely as he was.

After another hour, Dalan heard someone clear their throat next to him. Startled, he turned to see Capt Renault standing not a foot away. How she was able to move about so quietly in full armor had always amazed Lord Dalan.

“My Lord, forgive me if I startled you,” Renault said quietly, bowing her head slightly. She held her helmet at her side. Her jetblack hair, pinned meticulously up, reflected the low camplight.

“You didn’t startle me, Captain, I… I was just thinking.”

Renault smiled.

“Of course, my Lord.”

“How are the men?” Dalan asked.

“Ready to fight and die, my Lord. For Qirhalan or any of our brothers and sisters across the Valley.”

“Well, hopefully it won't come to that.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Some music, too loud for the space, began pouring from a tent nearby, followed by the laughter of a man and several women. Dalan rolled his eyes.

“Lord Shuplake,” Dalan muttered.

“Is he not the ranking Lord for this cycle?” Renault asked?

“Yes. Yes he is,” Dalan said, returning his eyes towards the heavens.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but has he… um, has he… given any orders?”

“No, he has not. In fact, I’ve not seen him for more than a minute these last four days. He came out to yell at a servant to clean up some spilled wine.”

Renault hesitated.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, far be it from me to ever say anything against one of noble ancestry-”

“Speak your mind freely, Captain.”

“He’s a pig!” spat Renault in a harsh whisper.

Dalan laughed.

“Yes, he is that.”

“The fact that I will have to deal with that if we are to be deployed, I-”

“You won't have to deal with him. I will,” said Dalan.

“My Lord? You-”

“I will be leaving with you, should the need arise.”

“It is not your Lordship’s duty this cycle.” Renault said, but her voice sounded relieved.

“I will not leave you nor any of my troops to the leadership of that man, Captain.”

After a few moments of silence, in which Dalan began to feel slightly awkward, Renault said: “Thank you, my Lord. This will mean much… to your troops.”

With that she turned quietly on her heels and strode away. Dalan watched her go and then caught sight of Lord Caleb Jelter a little ways down the bluff. Jelter was known as the ‘Little Lord’ since he was only a lad of eleven years. He was by far the youngest Lord - in this part of the Valley, at least. He had risen to lead his house upon the death of his father three years earlier.

Dalan walked over to him.

“Lord Jelter.”

“Lord Dalan.” Jelter said without taking his eyes off the stars. His hand rested on his father’s sword which he wore at his side. It was a beautiful curved saber with gold and platinum at the hilt and a single large ruby at the pummel. Dalan knew this sword had a story and that it had a name - Hester he was fairly certain.

“Your Lordship has been keeping watch most carefully these last few nights.” Dalan said to the boy.

“I could say the same for you, Lord Dalan. Tell me what drives you so?”

Dalan smiled. The Little Lord had come to have quite a reputation for boldness beyond his years.

“I don't know if I feel particularly driven,” Dalan replied.

“Could it be that we are under the leadership of that?” Jelter pointed without looking towards the tent of Lord Shuplake, out of which poured music and a new round of laughter.”

Dalan laughed.

“Perhaps, my Lord. But tell me, what drives you?”

“My eyes are young, Lord Dalan. It's as simple as that. They are perfect for catching the star as it falls.”

“There's a certain amount of glory in being the one who calls out the Fel Estiri, my Lord. Does that motivate your Lordship?

Lord Jelter shifted his weight his hand drifting to the pummel of the sword

“Did your Lordship come over here to insult me?”

Dalan laughed again.

“Come now young Caleb, it's just a jest!”

“His Lordship, I am learning, does not take well to jests,” said a woman’s voice from behind them.

Lord Dalan turned to Mistress Kulford and her apprentice, a girl by the name of Hollen approaching. They both wore the long robes of the Order of Vel’Murn - folding sheets of blue on blue. About each other their necks was a chain of bright silver and in Kulford’s hand she carried a polished staff of birchwood with a bright blue crystal set at it's top.

“That crystal puts out too much light, Mistress,” Jelter said. “It affects my watching.”

“Oh, well then, let me extinguish it for you, my Lord.” Kulford said without any further action. “My Lords, it is the fifth night of watching. Look sharp. It could be at any time.

“Yes, Mistress,” sighed Lord Dalan. “We are watching. It is not my first time keeping vigil.”

“Yes,” said Jelter, turning his eyes for the first time away from the heavens to look straight at Kulford. “And though it is my first, I will be the one to see it!”

At that moment a shout rang out from down the bluff, followed by several more.

“Fel Estiri!”

“Fel Estiri!! South West! I saw it!”

More and more confirming shouts rose up.

Dalan turned his head back to the heavens only just in time to see the very tail end of a long silver streak, a star falling from the heavens to land somewhere in the Valley far to the south it seemed. Despite his experience, Dalan felt a gnawing pit form in his stomach. The Felsu Estiri had come.