A world spun through the void, orbiting a warm, nurturing star. Upon it life flourished in abundance and variety. Two beings straddled the world, each with an assigned task. Rathar took the multitudes of the fibres of life and power, and with care she wove each into the complex latticework of Order, forming a mighty single braided cord. Opposite Rathar stood another, Mythar, who gripped upon the cord, and with terrible wanton frenzy he tore apart the strands, letting them fly about in Chaos, until Rathar seized the strands and again wove them together. Each followed the dictates of his or her nature and to all others was indifferent. They were the Two Blind Gods of the Beginning. Such was the nature of the universe when it was in its infancy. In the endless process of the two deities’ work, tiny strands of the fibres had eluded Rathar, falling to the soil of the world below. From these had come the most wondrous of creation’s magic: life.
Ashen-Shugar was pulled from his mother’s womb by the ungentle hands of the moredhel midwife. Hali-Marmora drew her sword and slashed the umbilical that tied her son to her. Her face was drawn with the pain of birth as she snarled, “That is the last you’ll have from me without a struggle.” The moredhel ran with the newborn Valheru and handed it over to an elf who waited without the mountain hall.
The elf knew his duty. No Valheru lived without struggle. It was the way of things. The elf carried the silent baby, who had not uttered a sound since birth. The infant had been born aware, a tiny thing, but not one without power.
The elf reached the place he had selected and left the baby exposed atop the rocks, facing the setting sun, unclothed and uncovered.
The infant Ashen-Shugar regarded his surroundings, names and concepts growing with each passing minute. A scavenger came sniffing toward the infant, and with a mental scream of rage the tiny Valheru sent it scurrying.
Toward evening a creature flew high above, soaring on broad wings. It regarded the thing upon the rocks and wondered if it was food. Circling lower, it was suddenly called upon by the infant.
Ashen-Shugar saw the giant eagle as it circled and knew it, that it was his creature to command. In primitive images he ordered the giant bird to land, then to hunt. Within minutes the bird returned with a flopping river fish, twice the baby’s size, which it shredded with beak and talon, giving the scraps to the baby. As it was for all his kind, Ashen-Shugar’s first meal was raw, bloody flesh.
For the first night the great eagle covered the infant with her wings, as she would her own young. Within days a dozen birds cared for the baby.
The Valheru grew, quickly, far faster than the children of other races. Within a summer’s span the child could run down a deer, killing it with a stunning blast of the mind, and eating its flesh after tearing it from the carcass with bare hands.
Other minds occasionally touched the infant’s, who would pull back. Instinctively he knew his own kind were the beings to be feared most, until he had sufficient power to carve his own place in their society.
His first conflict came as he ended his first year with the giant eagles. Another youth, Lowris-Takara, the so-called King of the Bats, arrived in the dead of night, using his servants to locate the youthful Ashen-Shugar. They struggled, each seeking to absorb the power of the other, but Ashen-Shugar finally prevailed. With the powers of Lowris-Takara added to his own, Ashen-Shugar began seeking out fit opponents. He hunted other youths, as Lowris-Takara had hunted him, and seven others fell before him. He grew in strength and power, taking the title Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches, and flew upon the back of a giant bird in the hunt. He tamed the first of the mighty dragons he would ride, and after destroying his mother in battle, he took her hall as his own. For years he grew in stature, and soon he was acknowledged one of the mightiest of his race.