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They entered another large hall much like one in Enchantus Palace, only here there were no bright walls, but darker ones made of stone; along the walls were lit torches giving ample light to the large room.  In here there were even more paintings depicting the average lifestyles of the Echolans, or perhaps they were Mesolans?  Kyra wasn’t sure, since the only different between Eadmund and Ketu was the King’s height, and in the paintings everyone was the same height.  She thought they were most likely Mesolans, since Eadmund was the only remaining Echolan, and he was a much older race.  Kyra also remembered Queen Anita mentioning the Mesolans in the Bloody War – of course, the Queen didn’t believe in the Echolans, but she didn’t want to think about that right now; one day she would ask her what she thought.
    
In one of the paintings the Mesolans were farming, working in the fields with what looked like hoes to Kyra; in another one was working in a mill; in another fishing; in another sitting by the fire eating.  The paintings, all done in soft hues, were a stark change to how Kyra imagined the Mesolans as warriors in the Bloody War.  Along the far wall was a great long tapestry showing a huge battle that had taken place some time before.  Kyra was pretty sure which battle it was, since there had really only been one major battle in the history of Aisis Lip, and there were certainly enough dead people depicted on the tapestry.  It was easy to tell which side was which: the Enchantans and Echolans were a lot more colorful and detailed than the other side, which was in drab, dingy colors.  In the middle the two leaders were coming together.  It was raining, the soil muddy, mixed with blood, while the dead were scattered around the field like dropped flowers. 
    
Kyra walked over to the tapestry, wanting to find out who was fighting for the Enchantans and what Jolus the Malignant looked liked up close.  She’d seen him a few times in her dreams, more than she wanted, but she didn’t trust her judgment in her dreams; she wanted to see something more tangible.
    
She walked around the large dining table without noticing it, focusing on the tapestry.  She stopped a few feet from it, near the middle where everything had come to a halt and the leaders were staring at each other.  On the left she could see quite a few people who might be the leader, but one was a little further forward than the others, and then she saw it was Eadmund, looking considerably younger and stronger.  She looked at Jolus the Malignant: at least the man was far uglier and cruel-looking than she remembered, but he did look much like her dreams.  She was guessing he hadn’t changed much in the many years since his defeat.
    
But he was evil, he was just wrong.  He shouldn’t be here, destroying this beautiful world with his hatred and vile nature.  He was a parasite that hoped to suck this planet dry, and he would stop at nothing to accomplish this.  The Chosen One looked upon the face of complete and utter evil, and she knew that when the time came she would face him and fight him.  He needed to die, and she would kill him, even if it was at the expense of her own life. 
    
Ah, I see you have found the Timeless Tapestry; it is of the final scene from the Bloody War.  We had all been fighting for many days, thousands on both sides slain.  And then we all came at each other for one final time, and we all knew it.  We stopped and stared each other down and then charged.  Jolus the Malignant was captured shortly after, and once that had been accomplished, his army stopped fighting for they had no leader to lead them, Eadmund thought.
    
He and Doci came around the great table that Kyra now saw.  A rich, dark brown almost black wood that was immensely long with high back chairs up and down its sides, each one carved and decorated in a unique way.  There were plush red cushions on the seats of the chairs.
    
Doci studied the tapestry with interest, looking at the leader dressed in right, then looking at Eadmund, then back, and finally back at Eadmund.  The old King simply nodded.
    
Is Aric, King of the Enchantans, anywhere in this tapestry? Doci thought.
    
Why yes, he is up there right next to me in fact, to the left of me.  What a great King he was, long dead now, Eadmund thought.
    
We found a boundary stone erected by him with an inscription at the very edge of the Kingdom of Enchantus, Doci thought.
    
Yes, I helped him place it there and in composing the inscription.  Now come, let us sit and eat.
    
The three walked over to the grand table, heading to one end, where Eadmund sat at the head, he was the King after all, while Kyra and Doci sat either side of him.
    
A person came into the room, weighted down with steaming plates of food.  It was not Ketu, but someone else, who looked much like Ketu, dressed in a plainer garb.  He laid three plates down, one in front of each of them, and the steam wafted into their faces, awakening their senses as well as their appetites. 
    
A feast fit for a king, if ever there was one, Eadmund thought.
    
Kyra had a feeling he said that a lot, as she looked down at hear plate, picking up her utensils.  She could see that there was some sort of meat there, with some vegetables, and something that might be potatoes, all slathered in a rich, dark brown gravy.
    
Please, begin eating, Eadmund thought.  They didn’t need to be asked twice.
    
It was a hearty meal that was much needed by them both, followed by a cake that was not chocolate, but tasted a lot like it. 

Once they were all full and couldn’t eat another bite, Eadmund led them back through the passageway to his throne, in front of the warm fire.  Two chairs had been placed on each side of the throne.

They all sat down and looked at each other, neither saying nor thinking anything, just enjoying their current situation: full and happy, in front of a warm fire in a warm room; it made Kyra and Doci quite content, but she knew this couldn’t last forever.

As you saw in the Timeless Tapestry, it looked quite evenly matched between us and them, Eadmund thought, his eyes seeming to look through the wall and scanning over the Kingdom of Jolus the Malignant.

But there was some greater force at work that day, and fortunately it was on our side.  We captured Jolus the Malignant, and once that happened, they all stood down in defeat.  It was like Jolus had been controlling them all in some way, perhaps with his magic. 

So we took him to this place near the coast, over the range, he thought, pointing in the direction they would go the next day.  We left him, with nothing, half hoping he would die alone and that would be the end of it.  We placed a boundary on his land: a mountain range pulled from the ground with a magical power now long forgotten by a group of wizards long dead.  They broke the rock from the earth and rose it up like a wall.  This place was chosen for his imprisonment because of its remote location to anything else; it would take Jolus the Malignant some time to cross the desert and reach civilization, and by that time we would be ready for him again.  So we thought.  But we also knew that we could not trust him, so we built a secret, hidden castle, high up on the mountain, he thought, looking up and around the room smiling in recollection.  Then there was the decision over who should live here, guarding him.  I chose the position, for I felt I detested Jolus the Malignant more than any other man in Aisis Lip.  He killed my whole family, and I still hold a great revenge for him.  So all he had to do was take one step out of his land and I would cut him down where he stood.  How I hoped and prayed that day would come quickly, as I kept my vigilance here, but sadly it never did.  And I and this castle and its inhabitants, like the rest of the people of Aisis Lip, grew old and withered, while our weapons rusted away to dust, leaving us defenseless.  A lot of my people died, and we all soon became very old, and even though we do live to an extreme age, many times greater than the Enchantans, we are by no means immortal.  Echolans live the longest of all the races of Aisis Lip, and I have seen any people, many friends die here, while I outlive them.  But my time will soon be ending and after me the great ancient race of the Echolans will be no longer.

And the rest of the story you know only too well, Chosen One, and Guide, so I need not tell you more, Eadmund thought.

Kyra was processing all this, taking whatever she could from it in the hopes of finding some way of defeating Jolus the Malignant, some little maneuver that would render him helpless, but she was beginning to think that there was no such thing.

Doci, however, was not concerned with Jolus the Malignant, but more interested in Eadmund, the ancient king and the Echolans.

Tell me about your history.  So little is known about the Echolans, next to nothing.  You also know what this world was like long before any one; you have lived on it the longest.  Please, tell me what it was like long ago, Doci thought.

Eadmund smiled at this.

I am honored that there are people like you who cherish our existence still and continue to wonder.  While I am clearly very old to you, since I was at the Bloody War and long before that too, I was of course not of the first group of Echolans to be born from whatever preceded us.  I only regret not writing it all down at some point.  It is so much information to remember, but I will try my best to tell you what I can.

We were not a people who recorded anything by writing it down.  Of course, this has changed now, with out few remaining numbers, every day we write down everything we can remember.  But back then, we recalled our history orally, and by telling it to each other and subsequent offspring through the generations.  Friends, family and prophesiers: we told each other all the time what we knew and were told to remember, and that way we would never forget it.  We would have village meetings many times a year, going over what we remembered.  And then, every three years, a huge celebration would be held where all the Echolan and Mesolans would gather together in one place and tell all that happened with their past.

Over the long period of my life, I have learned that this oral tradition is lacking in a specific way.  The facts change over time.  People add scenes and ideas to the original story, while other take details out.  There are even those who either do not believe in the history they are being told, or they do not like it and choose to slant it to their own view, and add their own opinion.  But the key to understanding what the stories are trying to tell you, as you attempt to learn the history, is to strip away the changes, to cut out all the things that have been added.  You are left with what can only be the closest thing to the possible truth.  This has been my job for most of my time here in this fortress.  And now, as the my life grows short, I am satisfied that I have done all that I can.

Eadmund paused here, collecting his thoughts.  He looked at each of them, offered a weak smile, and then launched into the story of his people and his life.

It was in a time so very, very long ago, when this land was a young seed in its growth.  There were no deserts or wastelands in that old world.  It was green and colorful all over, teeming with so much life; a true paradise where everything was in abundance.  But this taught us to be respectful of all we had and not to take it for granted, for one day it could disappear.  Though there is only one place I know of where this paradise still exists to some extent: Enchantus. 

I cannot remember exactly how it was said that our race, the Echolans, came into being.  I can only go along with what I was told by friends, family and prophesiers.  While these stories that are told over many years get embellished, scenes and details added, others taken away: if all these extraneous changes are stripped, you are left with what can only be understood as being as close to the truth as possible.

We originally came from the sky.  This is what I was told, and it is what I remember.  We arrived in some sort of flying ship that could travel great distances from another world to this one.  There were not many of us, but enough to begin our lives anew.  As to what other world we came from and why, sadly nothing is remembered about this.  I would presume we left because of some catastrophic event that had doomed our world.  Perhaps our group was the only one to survive.  It is possible some day we may discover answers to these questions, where our memories cannot help us.  I know this will not occur within what little of my lifetime remains, but perhaps in yours.

Kyra felt very melancholy, knowing how King Eadmund felt leaving his world and coming to this new one.  He wanted to return to it, at least to see it, just as Kyra wanted to see her world again.  She vowed to herself that she would do what she could to unravel the ancient history of the Echolans, and she knew Doci would be glad to help her.
    
There were less than ten ships that came from our world, carrying all that remained of our race, and wherever they landed, we settled.  I lived for a good portion of my youth near the shore, looking out to the great expansive blue waters often, perhaps it was near the shore that the ships originally landed.  The ships were converted into shelters for our people.  The conditions were simple at first, but they gradually improved.  I never saw any of these shelters, and the knowledge of where they were when I was born was already forgotten.  They may well be still in existence along a stretch of coastline somewhere along the great continental mass.

The first Echolans were able to live off the land with its rich diversity and abundant resources.  But they knew from previous experience on their home world that this would not always be so.  They were careful in what they conserved and soon learned how to replace what had been taken from the land.

As the years passed, our numbers multiplied and we eventually became accustomed to this world and subsequently called it home.  It is thought that at this point the Mesolans evolved from our race into their own and found their own part of the world to live in, though there is little physically that differs between the two races. 

We named this world Aisis Lip.  These are words from the language we spoke on our old world, which mean Great Land.  Our language is much different now; nevertheless, the name stayed and over time all the people of Aisis Lip began to call it as such.  In hindsight, we were a very arrogant race: it was not until the coming of Jolus the Malignant that we allied with the natives of this world, however, before this we considered it ours to rule, even though we kept to our own parts.

I think it is important to note that shortly after my people first arrived, half the number died of an unknown disease that had presumably always been in existence here, but the Enchantans and Ewlaps were simply immune to it.  This was a lesson we learned at first – that we were strangers, visitors here – but alas, it was one we eventually forgot or perhaps ignored.  Through generations, immunity was developed against the disease, and now it is all but nonexistent.

King Eadmund stopped here, reflecting on what he’d told them.  Both Kyra and Doci could see the sad look on his face over his lost people and while they weren’t sure, they thought they saw a tear in his eye.
    
Thousands of years passed, perhaps hundreds of thousands; it just is not clear enough.  Echolan memory is ultimately a frail thing, when it comes to the passage of time.  Let us just say that many years later, I was born, on the coast, far from here to the northeast.  My family was of noble stature and our society was based on a system of merits.  So when the king died, my father naturally ascended the throne, as did I when he died.  As for when I die, it will no longer matter who becomes king, for there will be so few subjects to rule that having a king would be pointless.

I have seen many of my people die in my lifetime, probably more any other today, as I have outlived many.  I saw the last suffers of the native disease die in pain.  I saw our number brought to the brink of extinction the first time we met Jolus the Malignant.  The few that remained died shortly after, leaving me the last living Echolan.  And then I saw my descendants, the Mesolans reduced to a handful with the Bloody War – those who live in this fortress now, all that remains of the once great race of the Mesolans. 

Eadmund let his head fall, exhausted; Kyra and Doci were too.
    
Ketu will escort you to your rooms for the night, and now I must rest, Eadmund thought in barely a whisper.
    
Ketu appeared from nowhere and took them down the hall leading to another part of the castle.  In this room, exactly like the others, were two beds waiting for them.  Once inside, Ketu left, wishing them goodnight telepathically. 
    
Doci was soon asleep, snoring softly, while Kyra was having quite a time trying to keep her eyes open, as she thought over the events of the day. 

She looked in the darkness, seeing the protective brown layer in the doorway.  She thought about Jolus the Malignant who she would be facing in the near future.  She was as uncertain as ever how everything would turn out.  She was unaware that she fell asleep in the soft, comfortable bed.