Turan::: Chapter I: At The Temple of Vril-Ya

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule —
From a wild weird clime, that lieth, sublime,

Out of Space — out of Time

The chapter one

At the temple of Vril - Ya

Helmut peeked over the edge of the cliff on his left. He admired the enormous Amirtha Gangai river snake its way through the Yellow Plains. Few times during his journey he had the opportunity to admire something more than the monotone flat horizon of the extensive plain. Now he could not but look over the extensive silver band as it ran between the walls of the deep ravine to his left, always to his left, west. Helmut and his two companions rode following the river always on their left. They were riding south. Seen from afar, they were nothing but three hooded travelers galloping they way from the north, and in Helmut’s opinion, not fast enough. A keener observer might notice and be surprised by the state of the horses; they seem about to collapse; such observer might also wonder at the ragged and tattered state of the traveler’s cloaks and outfits; at the wobbly state of their posture on top of their steeds that contrasted with the stern effort that they seemed to imbue on their reins to extract even more speed out of the beasts. And an even more keen observer might frown upon the punishement the horses were under when no chase or persecution was to be found.

            Helmut felt the exhaustion on his horse and raised his head to look ahead. The other two horses were snorting and blowing through mouth and nostril. No danger was in sight, tiredness was getting them under their rider’s forced galloping on the yellow grass. In front of the riders, the trail they were following started to veer away from the cliffs to their left, and slowly began to rise, leading to a wide and tall hillock, situated within sight of the river through which the wide river ran. Some nights before, shortly before the horror on the woods, the three companions had argued about making the possible importance of that hill, and decided to make a first exploration spot of it. It was, according to a map they had stolen to the order of Ix, an important place of power, for some unknown reason.

So the riders leaned harder on their horses as they saw the elevation, puchin the animals beyond what they can give; from their mouths came foam and loud snorting noises, but the horses held, and did not waver, but increased speed instead. There was no need to review their maps again. The hill was the only elevated feature of the Yellow Plains.

They had rested the horses only a couple of times during their journey, Helmut remembered as they neared the hill, one of those times had been in the middle of the forest rith over the southern border of the empire, before the Yellow Plains stretched to welcome them. A chill ran through Helmut’s spine, and he tried his best not to reminisce the Woodland horrors; He had tried to reason with his companions against going in to Lavondiss, but to no avail. Those two girls even ignored his recollection of the whole pectrum of faiths and beliefs from different regions of Turania, all of which held the forest of Lavondiss as being strega lamia, or being cursed, damned. Later on, all three of them had joined the spectrum of faiths and beliefs that held Lavondiss as strega lamia.

Helmut felt the increasing pressure within him, the sense of urgency, as he began to ride up the hillock. The woods were behind, no use in thinking about them now; the inn where they made their first stop was also behind. That urgency within him demanded that he extracted the most speed out of his horse. Helmut spurred his mount while shaking the reins and yelling with impatience to his companions, bidding them to do the same. The summit of the hillock was rapidly approaching.