The Survivors of Lemuria
HARK to the lay of the loss of the empire
Greatest in extent, grandest in knowledge,
With towers surveying the world, so tall,
Which by false deceit were driven to fall.
Hear ot the twins, their hatred and rage
And of the demon-tongued betrayer, whose deftness with words
Brought war, strife, and endless woe
To all people who lived in the lands down below.
Learn of the pact, made for two princes
And of marriages made in hope, ending in malice,
The bravery of Pandu’s follower and power,
The courage of those guarding Khauru’s great tower.
Learn how no Lemurian, but a noble false friend
By murder and lies caused the mighty to end.
AS brave Bhima fought upon the bridge
That blocked Pandu’s warriors from passing
Into that great tower where Pandu’s twin
Created his final incantation, to feed his foe’s
Lands to the sovereignty of the rolling sea,
It was then that Pandu, expressing his own power
Launched forth his cast at Khauru’s tower.
But in that very moment the third mage,
King of Theravashtra, his own magick cast
In his bid for life not limited by time.
Three magicks, by wizards thirsting
For their own desires, their determination
Caused Elthedoros, and Khauru, and Pandu
To be cursed with life that was not life
And forbidden to surface from the sea again.
THE day of joy, which came to Jairina,
Sister of the princes, was to lead to sadness,
For though she wed Elthedoros, Theravashtra’s
Monarch, and Lemuria’s alleged mighty ally,
He had no love for her, nor any human.
The statuesque beauty was to be stymied;
She would bear no heir; Elthedoros’ bastards
Were to inherit, and his plan would hold the throne
Of Lemuria itself, once it was laid low.
Bud none was aware on the day of the nuptials.
A FULL decade had passed since the day
Khauru’s bride was slain upon the bridge
To his tower, by the evil one’s talisman,
Since the death, on the same day,
Of the wife of Pandu, the proud wizard,
Poisoned as she dined in the Eastern Palace.
Though Pandu’s army was dread and powerful
It could not conquer the great Tower of Khauru.
Now Pandu, reveling in his vast potence
Summoned fell beasts, gigantic scaly creatures,
To breach the defenses and bring destruction
To his foe, whom he hated with fell passion.
The beasts also failed, for strong Bhima
Stood against the scaly giants
Swinging his massive mace repeatedlly,
Felling scaly legs and fending off sharp teeth.
But one massive skull shattered his mace.
Forced to retire, Bhima fled
Into the jungle, from the final giant.
It pursued him for days, bent on his death.
Bhima escaped to a cave buried nearby.
He crafted for himself a club from hardwood
And in that cave he found the key,
A trough with power to transform his club
Into a mighty weapon, useful in war.
He solved the riddle required to reach it,
Added a lump of sable stone and liquid of enchantment.
When he pulled forth his weapon its potence was great,
And his scaly pursuer was soon slain with one blow.
The spells were cast and spanned the Empire
As the deluge commenced to come down from the sky
And the roiling seas began to rise
Pandu’s rage knew no rest
While his twin wailed, then quietly wept.
And Elthedoros laughed without cease or limit.
As the waves covered the world’s prairies
And rose without cease, so rapidly it seemed
The entire world must soon be water
Only the devas, the gods divine
Had the strength to be able to stop the downpour.
When the howling rains had reached their end
Elthedoros, and Khauru, and Pandu, were kept
In a suspended state of sleep.
Sleep they would, but not without end.
For the devas made the following decree:
That if ever the Crown of the Empire was kissed
By the sun’s beams at the same brief moment
As the Scepter, together seeing the light,
At that exact moment the three sleepers would move
As though no time had actually transpired,
Though none could ever surface again above the sea.
After this the devas caused the Crown and Scepter
To be deeply buried so they might never
Be found again, but always knowing forever
That discovered they would be, one day.
As Lemuria’s empress lay in her labor
The sun twice rose and twice set before
Her labor was complete, and to the Empire’s law
A challenge presented. For the greatest check
Upon the crown, and critical to the succession
Was the principle, well honored, of primogeniture,
Which held that the eldest would have the throne.
But lo! Two sons were born together,
And none which was the elder knew.
Long debate ensued, between the barristers and rulers,
Including puissant Elthedoros, King of Theravashtra,
Who proposed the plan that was finally promulgated:
That each twin would, when the time had come,
Rule the whole for one year, round, then pass
The rule unto the other one.
And he who ruled would the crown wear,
While the other would for that while the scepter bear.
But none was aware, none knew
That the evil elf, Elthedoros,
Had already laid the seeds for the death of Lemuria.
Elthedoros, elf-king of evil Theravashtra
Was the guest of honor most great and glorious
At the most magnificent moment of matrimony
In the life of the Empire of Lemuria.
For he served both the royal siblings
As the best of men when the brothers wed.
For the law which was imposed upon the land
Held that the first twin to be a father
Would pass the realm to his own progeny,
And so the twins wed the same day.
To the blushing noble beauties,
Never knowing that the noble king
Planned, even now, the deaths of the princesses.
Bhima walked slowly from the west
As Arjun, his cousin, approached from the east.
Their destiny seemed to be dolorous,
For despite their mutual devotion,
Arjun was pledged to the service of Pandu
While Bhima to serve Khauru had been bound.
From the time of their childhood the two had been told
That none save Bhima could slay Arjun in battle
While Bhima could fall to nothing but Arjun’s bow.
Now they came slowly to a confrontation.
But the confrontation was not to be between the cousins,
But rather, with the war that was only now rapidly growing.
Both hoped, Arjun and Bhima,
That Lemuria’s ancient ally, the Low King,
Could manage to calm the enraged twins.
Together the cousins entered the corridors
Of the doughty king of the dwarves.
But what they found was that their hopes were forfeit,
For the Low King was no longer present,
Nor his court, nor his warriors, nor his consort,
But only the dread touch of those that should have been dead.
And the dwarves’ mighty mallet was also missing.
There would be no peace emanating from this place.
The two departed the halls in dispair,
But renewed a pact they had made in the past:
Arjun would never fire at his cousin and friend,
And Bhima would never strike Arjun a blow,
Though each continued to serve his own king.
With blurry eyes they bade one another farewell,
Knowing that peace had no possibility.
The sun was hidden; the seas were roiling,
From the sky fell the world’s supply of water.
Drowned was the farmland, soaked were the forests,
And still the conspirator continued his plotting.
For despite a fruitless marriage’s span
Of years, and joyless solitude for Jairina,
Elthedoros’ loins did in fact bear fruit one time:
The bastard was a full elf, Bophoros by name,
And his father’s heir he was in full.
Elthedoros calculated that should Khauru
And his twin Pandu perish prior
To their sister, then the right to rule would
Pass to her, and thence to her husband and then
To Bophoros, despite the taint of bastardy.
And when one with right in law returned
To the throne, wearing the crown and wielding
The scepter, covered by the royal cloak,
The empire would be restored, the curse reversed.
Jairina was therefore hurried to Theravashtra’s
Highest tower, that she might outlive the twins,
While Bophoros put to sea in the biggest ship
Available to him and his vain sire.
The three mad ones, no longer men,
Were cursed to live beneath the leaden seas
Until lifted could be the curse’s cruel law.
The law was simple: Let the ancient throne
Of Taxila itself be occupied and atop it
Sit an heir fully legitimate, with the feud ended,
With the crown of empire, which they all craved,
Atop, and the imperial scepter passed
Into the hand, and royally covered by the robe
Of the Emperor, only then can all find peace.
But when gods are involved nothing can be guaranteed.
For deadly are Taxila’s great defenders.
And wounded they cannot be in those waters
Save that both crown and scepter
Touch the one who is the heir in truth.