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THE PANACRIPH

PROLOGUE

He was running. He had been in a dark chamber. He had unleashed something that he could not comprehend. Now, he was running, but from what? He had been captured. He had been released. He had been trained. He was running, but to where? He was not alone, he had several companions with him, but he did not know them. He was running, but he did not know why. He fought demons, he stared into the void, he had been through fire and ice, to the depths of the ocean, to the lowest caves, to the highest mountain and he ran. But his legs did not move. He had been victorious in every battle, but now he had lost. He tried to shout, but he couldn’t utter the slightest noise. His home was destroyed. His family, dead. Betrayal. He tried to run, but he was drawn back. He had to set things right. He had to run and stop this. He had to run. An abyss opened beneath him, and he fell. The boy awoke covered in cold sweat.

BOOK ONE: ESCAPE FROM PARADISE

PART ONE: “DO NOT ENTER”

CHAPTER ONE: Arhyld

He had been having dreams like that for over a month. They started around his sixteenth birthday. The boy got up and washed his face. Everyone else was still asleep. He looked in the mirror. He was a handsome young boy. Tall, pleasant face, blue eyes, blonde hair. His name was Arhyld. His father was a hunter. Every day, he would go out to the woods and return in the evening. Arhyld learned how handle a bow from his father, though he wasn’t half as good. His mother worked as a farmer. They had a fairly large crop to the south. The harvest was always rich. Arhyld thought to himself that about everything was going well. Too well. Never had he heard of a tragedy happening, or a bad harvest. Never did wild animals attack his father, though he hunted them each day. The weather was always pleasant, the people were friendly, and life was great. His family owned a nice house; they lived in a beautiful neighborhood in a perfect city. Life was great for everyone. Life was great for everyone except him. Arhyld had every reason to be happy, but for some reason, he was not. Ever since he was a child, his parents thought him to be strange. While children played in the streets, Arhyld liked to explore the woods, the mines, spend time talking to the town smith and he often visited the western cliffs. He got out an outfit of clothes and wore them. It was still early. Day was dawning. It was what he liked to call “the Silent Hour”. During the silent hour, no one was awake, but him. He put on a pair of shoes and opened the doors to his house. The morning breeze was cool and soothing. The streets were empty. He loved to wander the streets at this hour. It was calm and peaceful. It was as if he were alone in the entire world. But the world was not that large for him. He felt trapped. Trapped in a small, constricting place. Arhyld lived in the land of Idyll.
 

CHAPTER TWO: Idyll

Idyll was a small land. Arhyld could cross it in two hours, by foot. The shape of the land was roughly circular, surrounded by a chain of tall, impassable mountains. Outside of the mountains, there was nothing. Arhyld once looked from the top of a cliff. It was as everyone told him. Nothing but endless wasteland surrounded Idyll. To the western end of the land lay the residential area. Or as the people called it: “Idyll City”. Everyone in Idyll lived there. All accept one. The city was large, its streets were wide. It was warm and pleasant. A little to the south was the Academy. The place where the youth of Idyll received their education. A three story high building, surrounded by a large yard. To the southwestern end, the Farmlands occupied a vast area of land. This was the most fertile area. The crops were rich and the farming prosperous. Arhyld’s parents owned a crop there. To the north of Idyll, on the northwestern side, were the Evergreen Woods. Lots of wild beasts inhabited the forest. Each day, hunters would go into the forest and return in the evening. Never had one returned empty-handed. Strangely enough, Arhyld had never seen any of the beasts while he was alone. It was as if they would only show up for the hunters. He accompanied his father to the hunt and saw wolves, bears, deer, rabbits, squirrels, foxes and many more. He went into the forest alone and it appeared to be deserted. To the north, a tunnel went deep into the mountains. The Northern Mines. That was where Idyll got its Silver, Gold, Iron, Coal, Diamonds and other ore. To the northeast a large building could   be seen. Smoke rose from its furnaces every day. It was the Idyll Factory. Most goods were manufactured there. Tools, pottery, bricks for housing, weapons for hunting. To the south of the factory, stood a large manor. That was the Lord’s home. Two stories high, an impressing yard and garden, beautiful architecture. Marcus had been Lord of Idyll for as long as Arhyld could remember. He was just and kind. Idyll thrived and prospered under his rule. The market lay to the south of the manor. One hour away, by foot, from Idyll City. The traders sold their goods here. Food from the farms, pelts and leather from hunters and tanners, tools from the factory workers, jewelry and other goods, dispensable and indispensable. The southeastern end was home to the quarry, where various stonemasons carved granite and marble. Roads connected all of these places, and the largest one of all led to the eastern end of Idyll to a tall cliff. It was called The Forbidden Cliff. Arhyld, however, had been there many times. It was tall and steep. Its surface was smooth, except for a strange sign, near the base. It resembled a four-point star. To the side of the cliff, a stairway led to the top of the cliff. From up there, Arhyld saw the surrounding wastes. He didn’t think anyone else had ever been to the cliff. Idyllians were very superstitious. If one would follow the road back west, he would end up in the center of Idyll. To the tower. Skyreach Tower. An immense tower had been erected in the middle of Idyll. It was snow-white and seemed to reach to the very heavens themselves. No one had ever entered the tower. Its huge locked gates faced east. Arhyld wasn’t sure, but he was almost sure that it was in some way connected to the Forbidden Cliff. Merely two minutes away from the tower gates, on the same road, was the house of Arhyld’s best friend: Myter the Smith. He was the only one who didn’t live in Idyll City. Many considered him strange. Arhyld liked to spend time with him. He even got hired as his apprentice. Arhyld started walking towards his forge.

“I hope good old Myter is awake at this hour. I should pay him a little visit.”

CHAPTER THREE: Myter

They called him “Myter the Strange”. No one knew much about him. No one knew why he lived out of the city. No one knew why he chose to be a smith, when no one needed a smith. All of the tools were made by the factory. The people whispered that he was crazy, but Arhyld knew better. A few people still visited Myter for small craftsmanship on their tools, though they were hesitant towards him. Arhyld’s father sent him over to the smithy one day, back when he was thirteen, to get some arrowheads. Arhyld was frightened, at first, but Myter proved to be a friendly person. A few months later, Arhyld became Myter’s apprentice. Another reason why Myter was considered strange was because he always told stories of magical creatures, wondrous places and far-away lands. As far as the Idyllians were concerned, there was no such thing as magic and Idyll was the only inhabited place in the world. Arhyld, however, felt melancholic every time he heard Myter telling of Dragons, Elves, Dwarves, Mages and Orcs. Arhyld felt trapped, and Myter’s stories were the only things that granted him the slightest release. He arrived at the smithy. The sun was beginning to rise. Myter was working on his anvil. He smiled to Arhyld.

“Mornin’ lad. How are you today?”

Myter was a short, but strong man. His arms looked like they could bend steel. He had brown hair and a long beard. His smile looked cheerful and always made Arhyld happy.

“Good morning, Myter. I’m okay, I guess. You?”

“Lad, when you’re as old as I am, every day is about the same.”

“You don’t have to be old to feel like that…” Arhyld said to himself.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Myter. I’m rambling.”

“I didn’t get a chance to wish you a happy birthday, laddie. You’ve been a stranger these past weeks.”

“Sorry, Myter. And thanks. I just haven’t been feeling that good.”

“What’s going on, then?”

“I’ve been having these strange dreams lately. They seem so real…”

“Care to tell ol’ Myter?”

Arhyld started to tell Myter about his dream.

“…it has been the same almost every night, for a month.”

“Strange dreams, lad. You know what you need? You need a lass to help you forget about this. Anyone at that school of yours that you like?”

“Oh, Myter. The girls think I’m strange just because I spend a lot of time here and exploring.”

“Not to forget that whole dancing thing, eh?” Myter started to laugh.

Arhyld smiled.

“Watch it, old man! I’m considered to be the best dancer Idyll has ever seen. The professors at the Academy all agree upon that.”

“Aye. Forgive me, then…oh, great dancer.”

“It’s not just that, Myter. The girls, they’re just like everyone else here. Boring. Life here is just too damn perfect. I need adventure, Myter. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

“Aye, lad. But there’s plenty of adventure around here too.”

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. I explored every inch of the forest when I was fourteen, and not even as much as a squirrel attacked me. I felt stupid carrying around that dagger and my father’s bow. As for the mines, I’ve been through every tunnel and could find my way in and out of there blindfolded. I won’t even mention the Forbidden Cliff. I guess there’s only one place I never saw on the inside.”

“Lad, be careful…Skyreach Tower is locked, and I assume it has a good reason to stay that way. Do not enter that tower, Arhyld.”

“I assume you’re right, Myter. Though, I’m pretty curious about it.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, or so they say.”

“Yes, but a cat has nine lives, Myter. Be seeing you. I have to get back home before my parents get worried. Not that anything ever happened to anyone around here. See you later.”

“Goodbye, lad. Hurry on back, though. We have a plow to fix today.”

Arhyld started walking back towards his home, looking at the tower as he went by it. Myter’s speech only made him more determined.

“Tonight, you open to me…”

CHAPTER FOUR: The Tower

It had been a tiring day. His father returned from hunting with three rabbits. His mother had brought home a lot of ripe fruits and vegetables. Arhyld had helped Myter fix the plow and got his pay for it. He had saved every coin he earned. A few months back, he bought himself a suit of traveling clothes, a leather cuirass from the Tanner and a pair of sturdy boots. His dagger, made by Myter, was his favorite, though. It was made of hard steel and was particularly sharp. He also had a scabbard made for it and attached it to his belt. He used to dress up in his gear and pretend he was an adventurer. Tonight, the game of pretend would stop. It was midnight. Everyone was asleep. Arhyld put on his boots, clothes and cuirass and sheathed his dagger. He thought about taking his bow, but decided against it. He sneaked out of a house and headed towards the tower. An hour later, he stood before its massive gates. Maybe Myter was right. Maybe there was no way in. Above the gates, on the stone arch there were a few runes engraved. Arhyld couldn’t understand what they said. There was only one thing to do. He knocked on the gates. They started to vibrate, and the very earth seemed to tremble below Arhyld’s feet. It stopped just as quickly as it began, and a key fell from the arch. Arhyld picked it up and looked above him. The runes changed. Now they spelled: “Do not enter”. One more reason to do so. The key fitted perfectly into the gate’s lock. Arhyld turned the large handle and pushed the gate. It opened quite easily and smoothly. The inside of the tower was empty. It was a circular room that seemed to go up to the sky, just as the tower. In the center of the room lay a pedestal, and on it, an amulet. A ray of light from above lit the amulet. Arhyld approached the pedestal. The amulet looked like a four-point star. The upper-left point depicted a stone of some sort, representing the earth. The upper-right point depicted air, in the shape of a cloud. The lower-left point showed the image of blue waves, representing water. Finally, the lower-right one bared the picture of a flame. The points of the star were made of some sort of golden material. They emerged from the centerpiece setting, which was made of a white mineral material, resembling marble. The center of the amulet was dominated by a dark gem in which an octopus shaped thing seemed to be trapped. It was a strange black symbol, with eight tentacles stretching out towards the eight points of the gem. Arhyld touched the amulet. Suddenly, the earth began to tremble and four beams of light shot upwards. One was red, one green, one dark blue and the other dark blue. In an instant it was over. The amulet floated into Arhyld’s hands. The points of the star sunk into the setting. His heart was still pounding. He ran out of the tower towards Myter’s smithy.

“Myter! Wake up! Myter!”

Myter walked out, still half asleep.

“What is it, lad? And why are you dressed like that?”

“Myter, I…went into the tower.”

“You did WHAT?”

“I touched an amulet and…”

“Lad, you have placed us all in great danger. However, what is done is done. Give me the Panacriph.”

“The what?”

“The amulet you took. I need to strap a chain around it so you can wear it around your neck. You can not afford to lose it during your journey.”

“Journey? Myter, what do you…”

Myter went inside and started working. Arhyld followed him. Myter started talking.

“The symbol in the center of the amulet represents chaos. The Void. The absence of all matter. Long ago, chaos sought to destroy the world but it was bound by four mages, by using the elements that make up our world. The four elements, Fire, Water, Air and Earth represent order and balance. Chaos was imprisoned within that tower and the Panacriph was created to seal the door. Now you have released them from their duty and chaos will once again arise. You must journey to Artana and retrieve the elements so that we may once again seal the gateway.”

Arhyld was shocked.

“Magic? Artana? Myter…this is…”

“Aye, lad, it sounds crazy, I know. After the tower was created, the Earth Mage created the chain of mountains surrounding Idyll. It was decided that the people here would not know of this and think that they are surrounded by wastelands. Just as the ones outside think that the tower is inaccessible. I was given the task to watch over the tower. It would appear I failed.”

“Myter, exactly how old are you?”

Myter smiled.

“Lad, you will need a sword for the journey. And money. You can’t very well wander Artana with nothing more than a dagger.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you? I’m supposed to go and gather the elements by myself?”

“You always said you wanted an adventure, no? This is your chance, lad.” Myter grinned.

“Do you have anything that can help me? A map, a way over the mountains, anything!”

“Alas, no, lad. And it has been a long time ago. All I know is that the way out of Idyll lies in the Forbidden Cliff.”

Arhyld sighed. This was quite a lot for a young boy to take in at once.

“Myter. Can you forge a sword for me? Use the…”

“The silver you smuggled out of the mines and hid in my house?” Myter smirked.

“So you knew about it? Yes. What is the symbol of Order?”

“Scales, lad. You should know that.”

“Okay. Engrave that on the hilt of the sword, please. I’ll be back tomorrow night to pick it up. I need to get provisions and tell my parents.”

“No, lad. You can’t do that. This must remain secret at all times. Only yourself and the Guardians may know of your mission.”

“But my parents will be heartbroken…”

“Lad, Idyll has a way of erasing all tragedies. Believe me. They won’t even know you were gone. And when you get back, it will be as if you never left. Hurry. I’ll have your sword done by tomorrow night.”

“Okay, Myter, thanks.”

“Oh, and lad. You’re handling this quite well. I’m impressed and proud of you.”

“Thank you, Myter. I guess I always did want this. Goodbye. And thank you.”

Arhyld walked back towards his house and he felt happy for once in his life. He was at the beginning of a great adventure. He smiled.

CHAPTER FIVE: Departure

Arhyld spent the entire day preparing for the journey. His mother and father were working, so he had the house to himself. He looked at his bow. It was the only weapon he was skilled with. However, he couldn’t carry it on his back. He needed his backpack. He packed up all the things he would need. Food rations, water, a few torches and a tinderbox, his money, a small hatchet, a bedroll and bandages in case he would get hurt. He wondered if he should have felt sad because of the fact that he left his family. Then again, they wouldn’t notice him missing and nothing bad could happen to them here. Arhyld took his backpack and left for Myter’s, avoiding contact with the other townspeople. It was evening. His father and mother should be returning from their work. Arhyld looked at the house once again. It looked beautiful in the light of the setting sun. With this thought, he turned his around and left. One hour later, night had fallen. Arhyld was knocking on Myter’s door. Myter opened the door and gestured to him to come in. They both sat down at the table. Myter took out the amulet and placed it on the table. A chain was now attached to it, making it into a necklace.

“Listen, lad, and listen well. I won’t tell you “time is short” because it’s not. As long as no one knows of your mission, there is no danger. The only ones you can trust are the Guardians. They swore and oath to protect this secret. They will not show themselves to you. You must find them. You may very well travel with a guardian and not know it. Be careful whom you trust. None know about this but us, so you will not find any fake Guardians.”

“Ok. Got it. Myter…did you manage to…”

“Indeed I did, lad. Here you go.”

Myter lifted a sword with a proud look in his eyes. It was a Silver Longsword. He had engraved the Scales of Order, Balance and Justice on the hilt and wrapped leather straps around the grip. He put the sword into a nicely made sheathe and placed it on the table as well.

“The sheathe is a little present from my side. I still have a few chunks of Silver left from the forging. You want them?”

“Sure. I need everything I can get. And Myter…thanks. You have really outdone yourself.”

“I can proudly say that it’s the finest piece of work I have ever created. Care to name it?”

“Hmm…I think I’ll call it…The Sword of Justice.”

“Haha! Great, lad! You’d make a fine Paladin. You have the spirit.”

“You mean like the ones in your stories? The protectors of honor and justice?”

“Aye, lad. Those are the ones.”

Arhyld and Myter stood silent for a moment. Arhyld took the amulet and wore it around his neck. He took the sheathe and attached it to his belt, on his left. The dagger’s scabbard was on the right. He looked at Myter one more time and stood up.  He looked into a tall mirror. Traveling clothes, leather cuirass, sturdy boots, backpack, sword, and dagger…he looked like a true adventurer. As he went for the door, he kept his back turned to the blacksmith. As he reached the doorframe he stopped and said:

“You are my best friend Myter. I won’t forget you.”

“Be careful out there, lad.”

“I will.”

With that, Myter left. An hour later, he had passed through the market and through the pass that led to the Forbidden Cliff. He looked at the cliff’s smooth face. Now he knew what the four-point star symbol engraved there was. He took out the Panacriph and held it against the stone. The gem started to glow and the four points emerged once more. He placed it into the setting. It fitted perfectly. The cliff rumbled and a stone door opened. The four points were drawn back in and Arhyld removed the amulet. He lit a torch and passed through the doorway. For several hours he wandered the maze-like cavern corridors and he found no exit. He dropped down and broke to tears. This was no way for an adventurer to die. Eventually, he passed out. He awoke a few hours later and jumped up on his feet. The Panacriph helped him once. It could very well do it again. He took out the amulet and held it in his palm. He turned around through the room, and the gem began to glow again. The glow guided him along the caves. He wasn’t sure, but he could have swore that he was still going east. One hour later, he saw a light. He started running towards it. Arhyld remembered Myter’s stories. Beautiful elves, friendly dwarves, honorable knights and mysterious mages. Arhyld could not wait to see the wonders of the outside world. The light got brighter and brighter. Arhyld threw away his extinguished torch and ran out through the cave door. He heard a rumble once more, and the cave door closed. Behind him, a structure resembling the Forbidden Cliff was guarding the way back. Arhyld looked around him he was on a field covered with lush green grass. The sun was shining in the sky. The sky was blue, and the birds were singing. He was free.

END OF PART ONE

PART TWO: THE FIRST STEP IS ALWAYS THE HARDEST

CHAPTER ONE: The Lone Traveler

Arhyld sat down next to the cliff and took out his backpack. He grabbed a piece of bread and a little dry meat to start him off. Judging by the sun’s position, it was mid-morning. He had no time to lose. After a brief breakfast, he drank a bit of water and continued his journey east. About two or three hours of walking through a plain later, he reached a road. A sign pointed into two directions. Right and Left. The one that pointed right led to the south, to “Tal”, “Hawkflame Tower”, “Iss’a”, “The Dragon Flame” and “Stormkeep” The other one pointed left, to the north and led towards a place named “Shade”, “Syl’vaan”, “The Weary Wanderer” and “Valdar”. Arhyld flipped a coin and decided to take the northern road. He wondered what he would find, and he thought of what he should ask the first person he met. Would it be an elf? Or a dwarf? Maybe even a paladin, or a band of orcs. His mind wondered until he reached another crossroad. A road led northeast and one led northwest. The northeastern one led to “Shade” and the other led to the other places he saw mentioned earlier. He figured Shade was the closest one. In the distance, just below the horizon, he could see a town and some trees. He decided to spend the night there. In the morning he would find the capital and get a job there, so he could finance his journeys. First thing was first, though. He took out a bit of food and ate it as he walked towards the town. It was late afternoon when he finally reached the town. He frowned. In the middle of a bunch of scattered trees with no leaves lied a few houses and merchant’s buildings, some dying crops and a dirty pub. The people were unfriendly and looked at him suspiciously. Arhyld reached what at least looked like the town square. He knew that traveling at night was dangerous, but he had no wish to spend it in such a place. He walked up to a man that was standing near the pub.

“Excuse me, kind sir. May I ask you a question?”

The man raised his head. He was missing an eye. His grin revealed two missing teeth.

“Hi yourself, kid. Whaddaya want?”

“Umm…I was wondering where I could find the capital? I would like to reach it before nightfall.”

“What’s in it fer me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Got any gold on ya?” The man extended his palm.

Arhyld cursed in his mind and took out his purse. He opened it and took out a gold piece. The man took it, looking at the heavy purse.

“This is sum strange money ye have here.”

“I’m…not from these parts.”

“Okay. Well, ye can follow this road out of town and through those hills over there. Ye’ll reach the capital in a couple of hours.”

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Yea. Goodbye, kid.”

Arhyld was relieved when he left the town. He followed the road northeast and through the hills. He had been walking for an hour when he heard a sound coming from his right. He quickly ducked and jumped off the road. An arrow flew over his head and sank into the ground. Arhyld drew his sword and dagger and put down his backpack. A man’s voice shouted out.

“Come out, kid. Yer just making it harder for yerself.”

Another man replied.

“Come on, Flig, methinks he went this way.” Three men came over the hill. Arhyld recognized the man he had asked for directions.

“Bandits…”

“Come on, kid. Hand over the purse and we’ll kill you fast.”

“Never!”

The archer fired another arrow, straight at Arhyld’s upper chest. Luckily, it hit the amulet. The pressure, however made Arhyld gasp for air. He realized that he had no chance against these men. He quickly picked up his pack and ran to the northwest. The bandits pursued him. A few minutes later, they simply stopped and went back. Arhyld continued to run. He did not notice he had passed by a skull impaled on a pike. He continued along the road. Night had fallen, but he saw light up ahead. A fence, a fire and two towers. He finally found the capital. He approached the fence and the towers.

“Is anyone there?” he shouted.

To his horror, the only reply was a beast-like groan. He turned around, ready to run, only to find himself facing a horrible creature. It was larger than any man he had seen. It was holding a torch and a very big axe. It gestured to Arhyld to go through the gates. Its face resembled a cross between a wild boar and a bull. It had a wide forehead and impressive tusks. It was frightening, but did not look eager to kill him.

“Wh…what are you?”

“I am orc. I guard entrance to orcish land. You are human spy. You go with me to leader.”

An orc. Myter had told him about them, of how they had lived in peace with humans long ago, but always said they had become savage beasts that murdered humans on sight.

“I…am sorry. I am not a spy. You must believe me. Bandits led me here. Please let me go back!”

“No. You are human. Humans and orcs are at war. You come with me to leader of village.”

“I will not come!” Arhyld took out his sword and held it towards the orc.

The orc groaned and hit the sword so hard with his axe, that Arhyld dropped it and his hand went numb.

“You are human! You come with me to leader, or else!”

“I am sorry. I will come with you. May I take my sword?”

“I take sword. You lucky you not be dead yet.”

Arhyld silently started walking in the direction that the orc showed him. The creature was walking behind him. This was not part of the plan.

CHAPTER TWO: Captive

Arhyld and the orc walked for an hour before reaching a settlement. After they passed the fence and towers, they entered a desert. There was nothing but sand for as far as Arhyld could see. At one point he asked the orc for his name. The orc reluctantly said: “Gorg’Thal” and didn’t bother to ask for his name. As they reached the settlement, Arhyld scouted the area. There were orcs everywhere. They, however, looked different from Gorg’Thal. They looked less human and their bodies were covered in fur. He was vastly outnumbered. He had no chance of escaping. The village was composed of tents and sturdy huts. The orcs looked at him with a hostile look. They muttered something in a language Arhyld could not understand. Gorg’Thal pushed him towards a large tent with quite a few signs in front of it. Gorg’Thal motioned to Arhyld to enter. Upon entering the tent, Arhyld saw a large orc sitting on a throne. Two guards stood beside him. He had less fur than the other orcs and his skin was green. His face was painted with blue drawings. He stood up and motioned for Arhyld to come closer. He and Gorg’Thal spoke to each other in their language for a while. The chief didn’t seem happy. Arhyld trembled in fear and decided not to speak unless spoken to. Gorg’Thal brought Arhyld’s sword and placed it in front of the chief. The chief picked it up and looked at Arhyld. He spoke in his language, quite better than Gorg’Thal.

“Who are you, human? And why was I awoken from my slumber?”

“I…I am Arhyld. And I did not mean to disturb your sleep.”

“And who are you, Arhyld of the humans?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Who are you to bear a sword like none I have ever seen? This sword is sturdy and finely crafted. You must be a prince, or an important human.”

“I don’t know what…”

“Silence! Hand me any other weapons you may bear on you. And make sure you give me all of them. I will not bear you to abuse my goodwill.”

Arhyld took out his dagger and handed it over to the chief.

“Another finely forged weapon. I doubt my soldiers could break one of these in half. They seem enchanted.”

“Enchanted? It’s just a silver Longsword and a…”

“I said silence! Bring me your armor, boots, belt and traveling bag.”

Arhyld obeyed. As the chief looked through his bag, he put everything back in carefully. He looked into Arhyld’s money purse.

“This is strange money you carry. I have never seen such coin. From where do you hail?”

“I am…I am not from around here.”

“You are most brave to deny me that knowledge. Here’s what I know of you, human: your name is Arhyld. You do not admit to be an important human. You refuse to tell me where you come from. You are obviously not a strong warrior, and you deny that you are a spy. I shall hold you captive until dawn. I shall see what is to be done then.”

Arhyld was certain of his doom. He barely managed to mutter a few words.

“I meant no harm…”

“I doubt you could cause any, human. You will remain in the prison until next morning. Your belongings will be taken there to be guarded. No one will touch them, as your fate has not yet been decided. One more thing...the amulet you wear around your neck…I demand to have it.”

Arhyld’s eyes suddenly changed from fearing to daring.

“No. That is the one thing you will not have from me. The amulet remains with me until I decide otherwise.”

Arhyld grabbed his shirt where the Amulet that was hanging below it. The chief approved.

“Very well. Go.”

Arhyld was brought to the prison which in fact, just another large tent. A guard was posted outside, and one inside, watching over his belongings. Arhyld decided to go to sleep. He would see what was to be done in the morning. He shut his eyes and fell asleep instantly…a dreamless sleep. When he woke up it was almost dawn. He heard a strange sound outside of the tent. The guard was gone. Going outside, he saw the guards going through his things. He thought of shouting, but he decided that was not the best approach. He slowly sneaked up on them, and grabbed his sword. Having done that, he quickly jumped on the back of one of the orcs and held the blade against his neck.

“What are you doing with my things? You were supposed to…”

The orc grabbed Arhyld and threw him on the ground. Arhyld shouted. The orc took his sword and looked at his amulet, he reached for it. Arhyld kicked the orc in the face and rolled away, holding the amulet tight. The orc ran after Arhyld and picked him up. He started to squeeze him tight. Arhyld gasped for air. However, his shout had awoken everyone. The chief roared. He approached the orc and punched him in the face. He said something in orcish to the orc. He and the other guard dropped on their knees. The chief turned to Arhyld and helped him up.

“I, Chief Kroognar of G’Yuk apologize to you, Arhyld of the humans. You were supposed to be kept safe, but almost met your doom. My intention was to send you to our leader in Tal’Kar, but our law states that no orc may harm our prisoners before their fate has been decided. You may take your equipment. Also, I give you the lives of these unworthy wretches.”

Arhyld had equipped himself.

“What do you mean?”

“You may kill them. They have brought shame upon us and upon you.”

“Kill them?” Arhyld said in surprise.

“Yes. We will make sure they don’t fight back.”

“No!”

“Human. You have their lives. Won’t you wash the shame from yourself?”

“I don’t know your customs, but I will not harm a defenseless opponent.”

“Very well, human. They will be dealt with. Gorg’Thal will escort you back to the hills. Do not return, for your kind and ours it as war.”

“War?”

“Yes, human. War. Humans and orcs have been fighting for a long time. But now, I grow tired. Gorg’Thal will be taking you safely to your lands. Goodbye, Arhyld of the humans. Maybe we will meet again.”

“Goodbye.” Arhyld said.

Arhyld started to follow Gorg’Thal, surprised that he was still alive. He had been lucky so far.

Interesting..The beginning reminded me of many a prologue to an RPG. Not bad at all. I give the first few chapters a 90/100.

Thanks. More to follow, as I write tomorrow.

Work! Work! Work!

This story is really good! Keep writing! ^_^

CHAPTER THREE: The Knight in Shining Armour

Gorg’Thal had been silent the entire road. They had passed the palisade and had reached the hills. Arhyld was still trying to fix his belt. The orc’s meddling had broken it. Gorg’Thal stopped and looked at Arhyld. He took out a sturdy-looking belt and handed it over to Arhyld.

“Here, human. I took this as trophy from human once. I would like you to have.”

The belt was beautifully crafted. It had leather straps that allowed various items to be attached. A metal insignia depicting a fanged skull with a missing lower jaw masked the buckle.

“Gorg’Thal…I can’t accept this.” Arhyld said timidly.

“No. You keep. Owner have no more use for it. Owner try to kill orcs. Orcs defend selves. Owner dead. You good human. Allow brother of Gorg’Thal to live. By orcish law, he spared now. Take belt.”

“Thank you, Gorg’Thal. I shall honor your gift.”

Arhyld took his sheathes from the old belt and attached them to his new one. Gorg’Thal took the old broken belt.

“Gorg’Thal take this as sign of good human. Gorg’Thal remember human from now on. But humans enemies. You must not forget.” Gorg’Thal raised his head and sniffed the air. “Human approaching. We must not see together. Bad for human and bad for orc. Wait. Gorg’Thal know that smell. It is orc-friend Derron. Human may trust Derron. Gorg’Thal must now return. Goodbye, human.”

“Goodbye, Gorg’Thal. Thank you.”

Arhyld walked the road back towards the village of Shade. In a few minutes he met a knight that wore an impressive suit of armour. It shone bright as the sun’s rays touched it. Arhyld thought someone might find that cumbersome to wear, but the knight seemed fine. The knight stopped and looked at Arhyld’s belt.

“Where did you get that?”

“Might inquire who you are, first?”

“I am Derron. Paladin of Artana and servant to our king. Who are you?”

“I am Arhyld, a traveler. I was tricked into coming this way by a no-good bandit. I was trapped by orcs. Could we discuss it on the way back to the village?”

“Of course. Let’s go.”

Walking back to the village, Arhyld told the paladin everything that had happened. By the time he was done, they had arrived to Shade. It was mid-morning. Derron told Arhyld to follow him to the tavern.

“Why?”

“The man who tricked you is named Flig. He is a well-known criminal here and is connected to the organized crime of Artana. We are going to pay him a little visit. The knights are already waiting there. One of my spies from the Shade garrison told me that a traveler was attacked by bandits near the orcish grounds.”

Upon arriving at the tavern, several knights wearing similar, but obviously inferior suits of armour, waited for Derron’s arrival. They entered the tavern and were greeted by scared, yet hateful looks on the patrons’ faces. Derron approached the bandit and raised him by the collar of his shirt.

“Flig! You no-good villain! You’ve broken the law for the last time! You wanted to rob this young boy and left him in the orcish land!”

“Hey, Derron, it’s just a…”

The knight threw him on the ground on his knees. Two other men, Flig’s companions, sneaked out of the tavern. One of the knights noticed. Derron motioned for them to follow. He would be fine by himself. In a few minutes, the tavern had emptied, save for Flig, Arhyld, a knight and Derron. He turned to Flig.

“I think I’ll let the boy decide your fate. Come closer, kid.”

Arhyld approached the bandit. He drew his sword. Flig started to beg for mercy. Arhyld ignored his pleas and raised his sword. With a swift motion, he let it fall towards the man’s neck, but at the last moment changed it’s position so that the blade’s side hit Flig’s temple. He fell to the ground. The blow was quite forceful, but, of course, not lethal. Flig quickly searched for blood. Finding no trace, he started to thank Arhyld for his mercy. Arhyld sheathed his sword. Derron searched the bandit and found some gold coins. One was strange looking, like none he had seen before. He showed it to Arhyld.

“Is this yours?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Strange coin. Where are you from, boy?”

“I…am from another…” Arhyld couldn’t finish the sentence. He felt a warm sensation above his chest. Peering down, he saw the Panacriph glowing below his shirt. He looked at the knight and decided to take a chance.

“Sir…are you, by any chance, a…Guardian?”

Derron looked into the boy’s eyes. He appeared to be shocked. He looked at the other knight in the room.

“Paladin! Take this man to prison. Leave the boy and me. We need to discuss something privately.”

“Yes, sir!”
 

CHAPTER FOUR: History Lesson

Derron made sure no one else was listening. He turned to Arhyld with a grave look in his eyes.

“I had wondered why you carried a sword like only one could forge. How do you know of the Guardians?”

Arhyld gave a breath of relief. Myter had told him that only a Guardian would know about the order.

“My name is Arhyld, and I come from the land of Idyll…”

Arhyld told him everything that had happened ever since he went into the tower. The paladin listened carefully. He stood up and motioned to Arhyld to follow him.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s two days by foot until we reach the capital. I’ll tell you all about everything until then. Come. Let us go.”

They went back through the streets of Shade and back on the road Arhyld had come on. At the crossroads they took the northwestern Road that led to Syl’Vaan and Valdar. Arhyld could see Skyreach Tower surrounded by mountains in the distance. After a while, around noon, they reached another crossroad. There was a road leading north and one leading west. The western one led to “The Weary Wanderer” and Valdar. The northern one was lined with light posts and led into the woods. It led into elfish territory and the city of Syl’Vaan, according to Derron. The road turned southwest and it eventually led to another crossroad. One road led south, the other northwest, to Valdar. It was evening. During the day, Derron had told Arhyld about the history of Artana. At first there was only chaos. Artana was the nexus of creation, according to most. When the god Vall, guardian of Balance, Justice and Order rose to destroy chaos, he used the four elements. Chaos was banished, and Artana was created. First Artana, then the world. It was a peninsula that was part of a much larger continent. It, however, had been a perfect land long ago. All the peoples lived in peace. Orcs, humans, elves, dwarves, mages…then came Chaos once more. It swept the land and sought to destroy it. Wherever it passed, peace turned to war; deceit and treachery almost destroyed Artana and the entire world. Then, the four mages came. They had lived in Skyreach tower for millennia. Some said that they were the incarnates of the four elements themselves. Vall’s four generals. They drew Chaos into the tower, where they managed to banish it back into the outer plane. They sealed the entrance with a holy relic they had created. The Panacriph. It was to seal the entrance, and should it be removed, chaos could be summoned once more. Only the one who removed it had the power to restore it back. Soon after the imprisonment, the mages decided to seal off Idyll from the rest of the world. They created an illusion that made Idyllians think that wastes surrounded them, and everyone else would just see impassable mountains and the Forbidden tower. The Order of the Guardians chose one born with the gift of immortality to watch over it. That was Myter. But even though Chaos had been banished, its adepts still remained. They took the mages to four different places and killed them. Their twisted sense of irony decided that the Fire mage should be burned to death, so they threw him into the volcano of Mount Pyr. They buried the Earth mage alive in Ter mound. The Water mage was thrown into the Ocean and the Air mage was thrown into the Abyss from the top of the tallest peak to the east of Artana the powerful wind currents tore him to pieces. The elements they served had ultimately been their doom. Chaos was still imprisoned, but that was just the avatar of Chaos. Its representative entity form. Chaos, as a phenomenon, still lurked around. The dwarves became greedy. The elves couldn’t buy the precious metals they needed, so they broke off all connection with the dwarves. The mages became isolated and untrusting, and the orcs just retreated to their deserts. As for the humans, Derron decided not to go into that subject. He told Arhyld that he would find out soon enough. This had happened centuries ago. That was why Myter always saw Artana as beautiful and wondrous. Since then, it had been getting worse. Arhyld listened carefully while Derron told his tale. He grew more and more shocked. Evening had fallen.

“Derron…where are we going to sleep?”

“There’s an inn close to this crossroad. It’s called “The Weary Wanderer”. Adventurers from Artana use this as a “base” if you will. We are safe inside. Tomorrow, we will continue the journey to Valdar. The capital. It is actually mere hours away, but the city itself is enormous. About four times the size of your land of Idyll. It would take six hours just to get to the castle from the city gates.”

“A city *that* big? I guess spending the night at the inn would be the better solution, indeed.”

Inside the tavern, Arhyld could see a whole lot of adventurers inside. From warriors to mages, to archers and to hunters. However, he was too tired from the journey. He didn’t even realize it when he arrived to his room and simply fell asleep. Sometime, in the middle of the night, he heard a bump. He opened his eyes and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, which was lying under the bed. It took him a few seconds to be able to see in the dark. A shadow was creeping around the room; Arhyld thought it was just his imagination, when he saw the shadow approach Derron’s bed. It pulled out a knife and the room immediately turned black. Arhyld shouted and jumped out of bed. He clumsily swinged his sword in the direction of the shadow. He heard a shout, and the man dropped the dagger on the floor. The room turned back to normal and Arhyld could see again. Derron had woken up and was holding the assassin by the arms. It was a woman dressed in black clothing and wearing a black mask-hood. The woman’s was bleeding leg was bleeding. She looked Derron in the eyes and performed a swift motion with her head. Arhyld could hear a cracking sound. She had broken her own neck. Derron let her drop on the floor lifelessly. Arhyld looked at the dagger and picked it up. The blade was black, made of obsidian. The hilt was made of hard opaque glass. It had a few runes engraved on the handle. Two were on each side of the cross-guard, one on the pommel, one to the middle of the grip, and one at the end of the grip. Arhyld touched the side runes and the dagger seemed to draw the light from the room. He touched them again, and the room came back to normal. Derron took the dagger.

“That, Arhyld, was a member of the Assassins Guild. They have most likely been hired by the organized crime to kill me. The price for failure is death, and none fall prisoners. These daggers absorb light from an area, and can later release it. Prepare yourself, child. I see you’ve already discovered how it works. Except for one thing.”

Derron touched the runes on the pommel and hilt. A bright flash of light was released from the dagger. Arhyld screamed.

“Don’t worry, your sight will return in a few minutes. I suggest we get back to sleep, now.”

“But what if any more assassins show up? No. The Guild either succeeds at the first try, or drops the job. They never try to strike twice. It would be too risky. Go to sleep. I’ll get rid of this corpse.”

“Fine. But I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anymore…”

“Don’t worry. And I’ll clean your sword. It would appear you drew first blood.”

“Yes. I never wounded anyone until now…Oh! And Derron, next time please tell me before you attempt to blind me. I still can’t see a thing.”

But Derron was already gone. Arhyld just crawled back to his bed and went to sleep.
 

CHAPTER FIVE: Of Politics and Paladins

Arhyld awoke refreshed. He opened his eyes. He could see. The sun had risen but it was still early. Arhyld got equipped and ate breakfast from his pack. Derron entered the room. Light came in through the doorframe. Arhyld rubbed his eyes.

“Good morning. Feeling better?”

“Yes, I am. That dagger is quite a powerful weapon. What is it made of?”

“Assassins’ Daggers are made of enchanted obsidian. Here. I think you should have it. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“Thank you.” Arhyld took Myter’s dagger out of the sheathe and shoved it down his boot. He replaced it with his new one. He looked at Derron. “By the way, what did you do with the body?”

“As you may imagine, in a tavern like this, death is common. I took her to the innkeeper. He buries them in the cemetery. Come on, are you ready to go?”

“Yes, I am. Are we going to the capital?”

“Yes. We should arrive to the castle by evening.”

The two headed to the tavern. It was empty. Everyone had either gone out into the wilderness seeking adventure, or were still sleeping. Outside, the morning air was refreshing. Arhyld and Derron started to walk on the northwestern road. Arhyld decided to ask Derron a question.

“Listen, Derron…one of the orcs said that you were an “orc friend”. Aren’t the orcs at war with the humans?”

“It’s much more complicated than that, Arhyld. You see, most people think orcs are bloodthirsty beasts that kill humans on sight. Sometimes they’re right. But it’s the humans’ fault, really.”

“How?”

“Well, you see, for centuries, orcs have not been trusted because they look different. They are strong and thus, inspire fear. They are strong warriors, but not warmongers. That is why they retreated to the deserts of Gor’Tul. King Nedlar was a great hero in his youth. He rooted out and destroyed the Cult of Chaos. He made Artana a thriving kingdom. But something happened. As he grew old, he began to lose his power. He has become a shell of his former self. He is drunk most of the time and he is a king only in name. He has no successors, no wife, no authority. We do not know what could have happened to him.”

An hour later, they were passing by a strange building, unlike Arhyld had ever seen before. A wall surrounded it, and people in robes were walking around it. Giant scales were painted on the gates.

“Derron, excuse me for interrupting, but what is that building?”

“That is the monastery of Vall, our God.”

“You have mentioned him before. What is this…god you speak of?”

“What do you mean? He is the highest power. He is the reason of our existence. We owe everything to Him.”

“And he demands you to worship him?”

“He does not need to demand it. We serve Him in gratitude. All who do not believe in Vall are doomed to eternal Chaos. Do you not heed His word in your land?”

“No. We do not. What you are saying is that he forces you to believe in him and holds you under threat?”

“You would do best not to badmouth His name. He is our salvation. He is the Judge that rules over Justice, Balance and Order. He is almighty.”

“Then why does he allow evil to exist?”

“Listen, Arhyld. You would do best not to speak that way of my God. You mean to tell me that in Idyll you don’t believe in anything? Don’t you ask yourselves where you came from? What is the reason for which you exist?”

“Why would we? We simply exist. I see no reason to know more.”

“Fine. I won’t force you to believe in Him, but I would advise you to keep your mouth shut about things like that. Non-believers are considered criminals.”

“Okay, Derron. I will. Could you please continue with your story?”

“Yes. You see, things were a mess, until general Kaldor came around. He had been promoted back when I was still twenty years old. I was a sergeant back then. That was twenty-five years ago. The General quickly took over. He is a strong leader and a good general but arrogant and greedy. When I say “good”, I don’t speak of his morality, though. He has become the leader of the paladins, and they, in turn, became corrupted. He heard that the orcs have massive resources in the desert. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds and the like. That is why he hired a few orcs to attack the city one day and murder as many citizens as they could. Of course, few people know that is how it happened. At any rate, the good general showed up to save the day and announced that the orcs are to be executed. If we had any proof of what he did, we would have thrown him in prison. He announced that the king has declared war on the orcs. Now, the humans lay constant siege on the orcs of Gor’Tul. The orcs have revolted and keep the humans at bay. They are mostly defensive, though. They will kill humans on sight. Few will not. Such as the Chiefs and leaders of the orcs. Every battle brings heavy losses on each side. The humans and orcs, however, are equally matched. That’s when the general came up with an idea to gather more allies.”

Around mid-morning they arrived before the gates of the city of Valdar. The city was enormous. Arhyld could not see the end of it. Houses upon houses. Streets filled with people. Stores, farms, military garrisons and in the distance, barely noticeable, something shaped like a castle. It was Arhyld’s guess that the castle was their destination. Arhyld could see tons of notices and pictures depicting orcs mercilessly killing people. Especially women and children. They said: “Protect your family. Join the Royal Army.” Or “They kill without mercy. Help us stop them.”. Arhyld was sure that this was what Derron was talking about.

“You’ve noticed, right? The general uses propaganda to enlist the aid of the people against the orcs. He paid off several people to say that orcs attacked them, or murdered their families. Currently he is trying to get the elves and dwarves on his side. If he succeeds, I am afraid that the orcs will be destroyed and the general will proclaim himself king. That is why I have enlisted the aid of a few still-honorable paladins and created the “Order of the Dawn”. We are trying to end this war. The Knights and Paladins won’t listen, so we turned to the orcs. We are known as orc friends, but most of them don’t trust us. The garrison in Shade is our main base. We try to find evidence on the general’s treason so that we may take him on, but we are outnumbered. The situation seems dire for us…”

“I don’t know what to say…I…didn’t expect any of this.”

“It is none of your concern. Once you have retrieved the elements, you may return to your land and be safe from all of this. But meanwhile, you are going to need a job, Arhyld. The search might take a while and I doubt you have enough money…”

“Derron, I’ve thought about it a lot. I want to help you in any way I can. I want to be a Paladin of the Order of the Dawn.”

“I can’t say I am surprised. You have much honor, for a youngster. You refused to kill the orc guards and spared Flig’s life even when you had every reason to kill him. Come. I will take you to the king and you will be sworn in.”

Around mid-afternoon, they arrived to the castle. Arhyld could not believe how big it was. It took them half an hour to climb up to the throne room. The king was sitting on his throne. He was alone. Arhyld was surprised at the way the man looked. He was overly obese and seemed to be drunk. He stood up and wobbled. He greeted Derron.

“Derron, my friend…I wasn’t expecting you.”

“My King. I have found someone that I want admitted into the Order of the Dawn.”

“Very well. I trust your judgment. Unlike the one of my other general. What can I do? He has stripped me of my power. The army obeys him now…Come closer, young one.”

Arhyld approached the King. He was surprised that he could still talk, seeing how drunk he was.

“What is your name, child?”

“Arhyld.”

“And do you, Arhyld, swear by Vall to serve me and Artana until the day that you die, or until I release you from your oath?”

“No.”

“What??” The king blurted.

“I refuse to swear by a god that I do not serve, or obey a man that I do not know. All I can do is swear by honor that I will serve what is right and defend the weak. I swear to help bring peace and I swear to serve Order. I swear to seek the destruction of Chaos and of all things evil. That is all I can say.”

The king laughed, to Arhyld’s surprise.

“You have courage, Arhyld. If all my men were like you, my army would be unbeatable in the face of invaders. Arise, Arhyld, Paladin of the Order of Dawn. Derron, who will teach you the secrets of the order, will train you. Good luck.”

“Thank you. I will not let you down.”

Arhyld bowed, then he and Derron left the room. Arhyld was to begin training the next day.

END OF PART TWO

END OF BOOK ONE
 

I`m not much of a reader but that prologe(sp?) sure caught my attention  :o

*throws the story into Word and prints it out*  ^_^  

More to follow. I'm writing some more today.

how many books is it anywho?

I use the term "book" only to define a division larger than the "part". Like Tolkien and Clavell did. So, this Story has three books. And will have a few sequels  :D  

I also noticed that the chapters seem to get longer and longer XD

btw I DID read it yesterday and it IS pretty good. It´s not better because i haven´t seen the ending  :D

For some odd reason i thought of building it into a game with RPGMaker  :rolleyes:  

You're not the only one... ^_^

Though I only thought of making it a game, rather than using RPGMaker which I have no idea what it is.

never heard of RPGMaker 2000, 2k3 (2003) or XP?

It´s a some what simple engine yet powerful enough to make some interresting games  B)

the only problem is having the time and not being lazy to make it  ;)
(and i refer to myself here)

Lol, I am trying to overcome my lazyness, momentarily...

Ah, I made the paladins all QFG-ish...ah well. I'm posting tomorrow.

and lazyness strikes again XD

BOOK TWO: SEARCH FOR THE ELEMENTS

PART ONE: FIRE

CHAPTER ONE: Graduation

…and on he ran. He was tired and tried to stop. He couldn’t. His feet carried him forward against his will. Fire, Earth, Water, Air. Through mountains and forests and over the abyss. Through icy wastelands and swampy lands, he ran. Victory was near. Betrayal. A fall. He ran away. Many died, many fought, he carried on. And darkness engulfed the earth. Arhyld awoke. His heart was pounding like a drum. He got up from his bed in the barracks and walked to the window. It was sunrise. He picked up his sword that was sheathed beside the bed and caught a glimpse of himself in the blade. He had grown in the past year. His face was more mature and he looked stronger. He remembered the days spent at the Academy. Derron always told him: “You are a soldier, so you must know discipline and you are a knight, so you must know battle, but first of all, you are a paladin and therefore you must know honor.”
He had learned several disciplines. Derron had instructed him in swordfighting and had taught him how to properly parry a blow, how to strike the opponent and how to keep his balance while doing so. The General Kaldor himself had been Arhyld’s instructor in the arts of war and strategy. As Derron had said, Kaldor was a formidable teacher and a great warrior. However, greed and lust for power had corrupted him. Arhyld tried his best to remain unnoticed during his classes and Derron saw to it that Arhyld, as well as all of the others that were going to become Paladins of the Dawn, stood clear of the general and that he had no direct power over them. Arhyld’s favorite instructor, however, was Atreon. Atreon was an old retired Paladin that had been charged with teaching Arhyld geography, history, politics and the secrets of the Paladins of Dawn. After the war against Chaos, people of Artana left. Artana had been the Nexus of creation and many new lands had formed beyond it. The Continent was circular in shape, but the Endless Ocean around it had shaped the western side in the likeness of two claws almost closing a bit of the sea from the north and south, hence the name “The Claw Sea”. The Northern and Southern Claws were the size of Artana. If it weren’t for the Claw Sea between them, Artana would have retained its perfectly circular shape. The Endless Ocean was impossible to navigate due to the fierce storms and therefore it was not known whether or not other lands existed beyond the Continent. The Capital City of Valdar occupied the northwestern corner of Artana, being bounded by the Valdar Gulf to the North. Across the Valdar Gulf lay the Northern Claw, where the Men’s Kingdom of Haldran was placed. A large Lighthouse had been built at the tip of the Claw. Arhyld had been told that greater cities even than Valdar had been build in Haldran. The northeast of Artana was a desert named Gor’Tul, which was where the orcs that had captured Arhyld lived. Gor’Tul was nothing more than a small part of Gor’Nak – A giant desert in the northeast of the Continent. The icy lands of Wintercrag spread forward into a country called Tegar. Atreon told Arhyld that fierce warrior tribes inhabited the cold lands. The southwest housed the region called Hagmarsh. A large swamp that stretched beyond Artana into a larger swamp and jungle. Those lands were called Shal’Kar. Little was known about this strange country in the Southern Claw. At the tip of the claw, across the sea from the Lighthouse in Haldran, lay an outpost human city. At Derron’s command, Atreon also told Arhyld of the four lands where the Elemental Mages found their doom. The northern part of the Continent were covered by the elven forest country of Deltherwood, forests that entered Artana from the north and formed the Woods of Ter. Ter mound, where the Earth Mage had been buried alive, was said to be in the heart of the forest. The southern side of the Continent was a massive mountain chain. The dwarven lands of Dranthermond could be found there, where they mined their precious metals. The mountains stretched from the South of the Continent to the very edge of Artana. The South of Artana was home to the Ash Mountains around Mount Pyr, the very volcano where the Fire Mage had perished. The port town of Frin’J had been build in the west of the country. A ship was said to have carried the Water Mage to the west and there, in the middle of the Claw Sea, he had been thrown overboard. As to the east of Artana, that was a mystery. From atop of Athmos Peak, the Air Mage had been thrown into the Abyss, where the fierce winds had torn him to pieces. The curious part was the nature of the Abyss. It was said to be bottomless. If one would look down from the edge, he would see nothing but darkness down below. The peak of Athmos was, strangely enough, floating in the air on a large piece of land. The only way across the Abyss and past the peak into the land of Ithar was a series of wooden bridges across the Abyss, starting from the tower of Hawkflame. The near inaccessibility, along with the fear of the Abyss most people seemed to have, made Hawkflame and the floating country of Ithar a favorite of Mages.
There was no specific time in which a Paladin could be trained. It depended on the recruit. All the teachers told Arhyld that he was a quick learner, and thus his training had finished after only one year. Today was his graduation day. Arhyld had not expected a big ceremony, nor did he get one. Just Atreon and Derron giving him advice and a pat on the back. Arhyld refused the full plate mail customary to the Paladins and chose to stick to his own equipment. Derron approached him.

“Listen closely, Arhyld…my duty as Guardian forbids me to help you in your quest. I can only give you this bit of advice: search the Mages’ death places and begin your quest at the “Weary Wanderer”. Join a band of adventurers. You’ll be safe with them.”

Arhyld looked at Derron and nodded.

“Thank you, Derron…I will heed your advice.”

“Also, you would do best to wear this ring. It will identify you as a Paladin of Dawn. Be careful to whom you show it, though. Not all people like our Order. Also, I can tell you that the secrets of the Paladin are many, but you must discover them by yourself…and Arhyld…be careful whom you trust. May Vall give you strength.”

“I will, Derron. I shall see you soon. If I need advice, I’ll look for you at the garrison in Shade. Goodbye.”

Arhyld turned his back on the barracks and walked forward through the morning mists. He felt better. No longer the weak little boy, but a Paladin of Dawn. With a smile, he picked up his pace and started towards the gates of Valdar.
 

Very interesting and quite good indeed. A little more detail and it will be great. I have also shown all but the last book(2) to my linguistics friend and he told me you have some talent and with practice you could go proffesional.
I just tell you this, I'm not suggesting anything

Thanks. (You liked it because it has Paladins, right  ^_^ ? Paladins rock!)

First off, I know it could be a bit more descriptive. You see, I am writing this as a sketch. When I'm done, I'll add to it, make descriptions of characters and stuff. Right now, I'm just setting up the story. As for going professional...heh, thought about it.

Though I don't know how many American publishers would go for it, and I can't publish it here...stupid Romanians, wouldn't know the first thing about fantasy...

I know the feeling...The local bookshop here in Faliro does not bring any fantasy books because.....they are Devil's Work :wacko: .........(!x10000)

Yes, Paladins do rock and that's a reason I liked it even more. But It's not myself only who consider it to be good. So,Keep it up!

I will, I will. I think I'll write the next chapter today.

That would be great if you could. Tomorrow the academy will pack the Pcs and on Friday I'll be  on leave, so it could be quite a time untill I return here.

waiting, where´s the rest?  :P

Patience, child.

Sorry. I didn't tell anyone that I was going to go to Greece. That's where I was the past ten days. And it was Divine. And I saw Mount Olympus and the Meteora Monastaries and and...I wanna go baaack!

I have some ideas for the story. I'll get back to it.

Did the Hydra try to eat you? Did Cerberus try to get food from you?

Nope, but guess what I ate there! GYROS!

Yup...the same you could buy in QFG5!!111one

Those are pretty good.

CHAPTER TWO:  A Party of Adventurers

The morning air smelled sweet. The streets were almost empty. Arhyld walked towards the gates of the City, which were a mere half hour away from the Barracks. He decided not to spend any money at the time. Not before he’d find some companions. He opened his purse. It was heavy and very large. Derron had taken his Idyll currency and exchanged it at some shady moneychanger that would ask no questions. Also, as a recruit at the Academy, Arhyld was entitled to a room at the Barracks residential area and 10 gold pieces weekly. He reached the gates and greeted the guards. They nodded in response. As Arhyld stepped through the enormous gateway he looked at the road that led southeast. He started walking towards the inn. The hours went by quickly. It was mid-morning when he arrived at the inn. The adventurers were setting out or grouping outside. He decided to go in. Derron had told him that the innkeeper could be trusted, so he was the first person Arhyld talked to. The innkeeper’s name was Thaksworth. He was a man in his fifties. Fat, bald and with a greasy beard. He told Arhyld who to ask for help.

“Well, sir Paladin, there are quite a few bands of adventurers here, but you would best go with Marcus’ troop. They’re three good men and you can trust them. That Marcus fellow keeps pretty much to himself, he does, but you can trust him.”

“Where could I find them?”

“Well, they’re always the last ones to leave, because…well…I don’t like to gossip. You can find them in the backroom.”

“Ok, Thaksworth, thank you. This is for your trouble.”

Arhyld gave him one gold piece and headed for the backroom. Upon entering he only saw a man on a seat. He was wearing a blue cloak and cleaning a longsword. Arhyld cleared his throat and greeted the man.

“Hello, good sir. Are you by any chance Marcus?”

The man took off his hood and looked at Arhyld. He was a young man. Probably in his late twenties. He had black hair and a short beard. He smiled at Arhyld.

“I am. With whom am I speaking?”

“I am Arhyld. Paladin of Dawn. I am on a mission and I need a group of adventurers to travel with.”

The man rubbed his beard.

“I see…and what would this mission be?”

“I…”

Arhyld stopped. He felt the Panacriph warming up against his chest. Could he be in such luck?

“Sir…are you by any chance…a Guardian?”

Marcus smiled and nodded.

“So…you’re one of Derron’s people? Your mission must be important if Derron has entrusted you with such a secret. What is it, boy?”

And Arhyld told him his story. Marcus’ face became serious.

“Then we must hurry on to The Ash Mountains. We were planning to go to Iss’a in Wintercrag to check out the rumors of a Dragon Hunt. The Ash Mountains are close by. I guess we need to wait for…”

The door slammed open and a large muscular man with long hair dragged a smaller one into the room and placed him into a chair. The large one sat down grumbling. Marcus introduced them to Arhyld.

“Arhyld, these are my companions. The little guy is Skip.”

The small man jumped on the table. He was very nimble. He started to juggle three daggers.

“Skip, at your service, kind sir. Master thief of riches and women’s hearts. Husbands’ bane and resident jester. The burly silent oaf is…”

The large man picked up a gigantic axe and slammed it’s shaft into the table causing Skip to lose his balance. He spoke with a deep voice.

“I can introduce myself. I am Thrandor. Prince of Tegar. My father’s life grows longer and such I am to be the next King of Tegar. Our people’s customs say that I must perform an act of honor and bravery before I can step up to the throne. Who are you, boy?”

“I am Arhyld. Paladin of Dawn. Your companion agreed to accept me into your party…if it’s okay with you, sirs.”

Skip started to run around Arhyld checking him out.

“Good teeth, nice sword, big purse full of gold, I say we take him Marc. Can we keep him, pleeeaseee?”

The large man nodded.

“Skip is the reason we’re always late setting out. He always has a midnight affair with some maiden and it’s my task to drag him back here in the morning. What about you, boy? Are you a skilled fighter? We can’t drag around useless whelps.”

“If you must know, I have spent the past year training at the Valdar Academy. I know how to wield a sword fairly, though I may not look like it.”

Thrandor grumbled and picked up his axe setting it on his back.

“We’ll see. Are we ready to go, Marcus? Or are there any more of your friends tagging along?”

Marcus picked up some scrolls from a drawer and checked out the room for any items they may have left behind.

“I think we’re about ready to set out. Come. Let us go to Stormkeep.”

Thrandor shook his head.

“Stormkeep? I thought we were going to Iss’a.”

“Our new friend has some work to do at Stormkeep, Thrandor. We’re stopping by there first.”

Thrandor shoved Arhyld aside and walked out the door.

“Now we have a new leader? Bah! I’m watching you, little whelp.”

Marcus followed Thrandor to calm him down. Skip helped Arhyld back up.

“Don’t mind Big T, my Paladin pal. He’s just grumpy-wupmy all day longy. Come. Let me help you. Need me to relieve you of any weight? Sword, backpack, gold? Just kidding. Come, let us riiiiiiideeee, into the morniiiiiiiing!”

Skip ran out the door and Arhyld followed him slowly.

“What have I gotten myself into?”
 

Skip is my favorite character already.

Yeah, I made him up on the spot. I already knew that I was going to have a thief in the party, but the moment I started to write, Skip just...came out.

Skip rules.  ^_^  

Midnight affair with some maiden. He's my role model.

Different one every night, bay-bee!

Oh, doo beehayve!

Totally shagadellic, baybeh!

Ok, Austin Powers mode disengaged.

I'll have the next chapter ready by today or tomorrow.

CHAPTER THREE: Journey To The Mountains

Arhyld stepped out of the inn to find Marcus talking to Skip, while Thrandor was standing a few feet away from them. Skip ran up to Thrandor, but the giant pushed him away. Skip seemed like he was about to fall, but instead backflipped away. Marcus approached Arhyld.

“Do not pay any attention to Thrandor. He’s a good man, but lately, he’s been under a lot of stress. See, it is Tegarian custom that a king-to-be accomplishes a task of bravery before he is named king. Thrandor has not found an opportunity yet and his father’s health, as the people say, grows worse by the month.”

“Ah. So the dragon you were going to investigate is his hope of doing something great?”

“Yes.”

“But that means that I’m just getting in the way…”

“Do not trouble yourself. Come. Let us go.”

Everyone was quiet on the way south. Everyone except for Skip.

“So, my Paladin pal, looking at you, I see you have a thief’s body. Come on, you can tell me. I mean, you’re a little tall and all, but could be a thief after all. So? Any treasures you have stolen? Pockets picked? Locks picked? How about your nose? Tell ole’ Skip.”

“I’m no thief. I confess that the silver that my sword was forged from was stolen from the mines of my homeland, and that I can sneak fairly well, but I never stole someone’s belongings and I don’t know how to pick a lock.”

“It’s quite a shame. Skip is my name. Perhaps you’d like to learn my game?”

“What are you talking about, Skip?”

“I could teach you how to thieve, my Paladin pal. I could teach you how to be a master thief. Steal from the rich and keep to yourself.”

“I have all the money I need. And mugging people is not my thing. One of your brethren wanted to rob and kill me near the Orcish grounds.”

“I am shocked that a fellow member of the Thieves Guild could do such a dreadful thing. Who is this scoundrel you speak of?”

“His name was Flig.”

“Oh, don’t make me flip my wig! Flig is but a common criminal. Not a smooth thief. He is part of the criminal syndicate, NOT a member of the honorable Thieves Guild!”

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

A few hours later, just before noon, the party arrived at what appeared to be a market. Carts of merchandise and merchant tents lay on the banks of a river. The road turned southeast there. Marcus decided that they should stop by and see what they had for sale. Thrandor coldly told Arhyld that he should get himself some bracers before he went into battle, or his hands would get chopped off. The part split up and Arhyld walked up to the armor stand. A large man, heavily armored, was in front of him talking to the merchant. At one point, his tone became threatening.

“Listen you little worm! I didn’t ask if you would show me the bracers. I *told* you to give them to me!”

“But…this was not our agreement. I…I need the money.”

The man grabbed the merchant by the throat.

“I am taking those bracers!”

“Please, sir…I have a family…those bracers are unique. I had to go through a lot of expenses to get them…please…”

The man lifted the merchant into the air and tightened the grip on his throat. The merchant squealed. Arhyld cleared his throat and tapped the large man on the shoulder. He dropped the merchant, turned around and looked down on Arhyld. He had a lot of scars on his face and his eyes were full of hatred. He roared at him.

“Who are you to disturb me while I’m conducting business?”

“I am a Paladin of Dawn and I command you to leave that man alone!”

“Or what?”

Arhyld was certain that the man could snap him like a twig. He decided to play the law officer.

“…or I shall be forced to arrest you.”

The man started laughing.

“You puny little whelp! Your paladins can’t touch me! Come on! I dare you! Arrest me!”

The man drew a gigantic claymore and slashed at Arhyld. Arhyld was quick to evade the blow and draw his own sword. He ran to the man’s side and slashed one of the straps that were holding his cuirass into place. The man groaned and swung his claymore again. Arhyld barely avoided certain death by the blade. He managed to slash another one of the straps. Arhyld looked back. Two more men wearing similar armour were approaching, swinging longswords. Arhyld evaded another blow of the claymore. This time it came from above and sank into the earth. Taking advantage of the situation, he ran up the blade of the sword and slashed one of the straps on the shoulder, then kicked away from the huge man. He heard a shout behind him and turned around to see one of the other swordsmen just feet away from him. One more second could have meant his doom if not for a dagger sinking into the swordsman arm, causing him to drop the sword. Two more daggers sank into his shoulder and forearm. The man dropped down in pain while Skip approached him and knocked him out retrieving his daggers afterwards. Marcus had dealt with the other man and was sheathing his sword. Arhyld heard a rumble as the last warrior managed to take his sword out of the ground and charged towards him. Arhyld prepared to avoid his blow, but a cry from behind drew the man’s attention. Thrandor was there, with the enormous battleaxe in his hands. The man turned around and charged towards the Tegarian, giving Arhyld the opportunity he had been waiting for. He ran up behind the man and cut the last of the leather straps. His cuirass fell to the ground, split in two. Blinded by rage, he turned to Arhyld. Thrandor roared and raised his axe above his head. The man turned around once more and shoved Thrandor onto the ground. His axe flew a few feet away. The man raised his claymore and prepared to deal Thrandor the finishing blow. Just when Thrandor thought that this was his end, a sword emerged from the man’s chest. Blood came pouring out his mouth and he crumbled to the ground. The claymore fell to the ground with a dry *clang*. Arhyld took his sword out of the man’s back and wiped the blade clean. He sat down by the body. Thrandor picked himself up and approached Arhyld.

“Hmph. I guess I owe you my life, little boy. You were brave to stand against the other Tegarian…maybe I was wrong about you. But don’t think this is going to change anything. Not just yet…are you listening?”

Arhyld seemed to be in his own world. He didn’t pay any attention to anyone around him. After a few minutes, he suddenly let out a cry and ran behind one of the tents to throw up. When he came back he was pale and he knelt by the body. Marcus knelt beside him.

“It was your first kill, wasn’t it?”

“I could feel his heart beating as my sword sank into it…I could feel it through my sword and into my arms, then into my own heart. When it stopped, I feared I would die too.”

“The first death you deal is always the hardest. It gets easier with time.”

“I don’t *want* it to get easier!”

“Sometimes, killing your adversary is the only way of getting out of trouble. Your life is more important than some ruffian’s. It does not matter if it does not sound right. That is how you must think.”

“Marcus…what did Thrandor mean when he said that the man was also Tegarian?”

“Well, judging by stature, armor and appearance, I incline to say that he was indeed from Tegar. Possibly an exile.”

“I understand. Wait. I need to talk to the merchant.”

Arhyld stood up and walked slowly towards the merchant, as the crowd that had gathered dispersed. The merchant seemed to be frightened still.

“I th-thank you, milord. How may I show my appreciation?”

“The bracers that the man asked for. I wish to see them.”

The merchant reached under the counter and took out a small chest. He opened it and showed Arhyld a pair of beautifully crafted bracers, made out of a strange metal.

“It’s adamantine, milord. They are said to have belonged to a warlord of the old days. Back in the Chaos Wars. One of them has a concealed wristblade. Just press the button on the top to make it come out.”

Arhyld picked up the bracer and pressed the button. A blade about ten inches long flew out. Arhyld looked at the bladed bracer. It was a work of art. He looked the merchant in the eyes.

“How much?”

“Well, milord…it cost me a pretty penny to locate them. Then I had to hire people to retrieve it…I spent fifty gold pieces together.”

“I’ll give you seventy five for it.”

Skip coughed behind Arhyld as if he had choked. Seventy-five gold pieces was no small amount. One could have bought a fair amount of land with that much money. The merchant started to stutter.

“M-m-milord…I was going to ask for but sixty.”

“You said you have a family. Take the…”

“Milord, you are too generous. I can’t…”

“What kind of merchant are you? Just take the damned money!”

“Fine, milord. As you wish. Thank you. Thank you.”

Arhyld picked up the bracers and donned them. He hit one of them with the sword. It left no mark. Not a scratch, not a dent. Thrandor approached Arhyld and spoke.

“That was a noble thing to do. I know the man. His family is poor and he had to take out several loans to get those bracers. You are either very honorable, or very foolish.”

As Thrandor left ahead, Marcus walked up beside Arhyld.

“You know…we may need money later on. Do not make the mistake of throwing it around. You may have a kind heart, but your goal is not making every beggar in the kingdom rich.”

“You don’t understand, Marcus. It was my way of making amends for the warrior’s death. It may have not been much, but it was more than nothing.”

“I see. I understand you, Arhyld.”

“I don’t!” shouted Skip. “Seventy five gold pieces? You are a madman, Paladin pal! Why if I had such bulging pockets I would…”

“…spend it all in one week?”

“Yes, Paladin pal. But what a week it would be! Why I would…”

Skip’s voice seemed to fade away as Arhyld walked on, his mind wandering. The scenery and hours went by without him or anyone else saying anything. Even Skip had fallen quiet. They went southeast and then east around the Forbidden Tower. A road led southwest towards a cemetery. They didn’t follow that road. After a while, the party arrived just south of the tower. A road led south and across the river, towards the mountains. It was sunset when they entered the pass that led to “Stormkeep” according to the signs.
 

CHAPTER FOUR: Storm’s Pass

As soon as they entered the pass, Arhyld learned that its name was not simply for dramatic effect. Strong winds blew down on them from the mountains. Several times a stronger gust of wind almost blew Arhyld off his feet. Marcus shouted something from ahead. Arhyld could barely hear him over the currents whipping his ears.

“Stay close to me. We have to reach Stormkeep before night falls upon us!”

The sky was getting darker by the minute. Gray clouds had gathered above. They were in tune with the mountains, as Arhyld noticed. Mount Pyr towered above the Ash Mountains. The sky above it glowed red and the ground sometimes trembled mildly. Mount Pyr. The name sounded strange to Arhyld. He remembered Atreon’s lesson on the languages of the Continent. At first, as the teacher had told him, there was but one language. The Old Tongue of Artana. After the other countries became inhabited, something peculiar happened. Usually, throughout history, when two languages come together, they blend into one. Never before had it happened that a single language would split into many others, but somehow, Artana’s Tongue did just that. When the other countries were spawned, each people took part of the Old Tongue and developed it. That was why most places in Artana had names that resembled words from the Human Tongue. Places such as the Ice Wasteland of Iss’a or the great volcano that was Mount Pyr. The border port of Frin’j or the peak of Mount Athmos. The mound of earth in the Woods of Ter and the Forest Elves’ city of Syl’Vaan. The fabled underwater city of Aquos and so on. Marcus’ shout snapped Arhyld out.

“Keep up, Arhyld! We are almost there!”

The Pass went on. It was another half hour until they could see fires in the distance. Night had fallen. Arhyld ran up to Marcus. Skip and Thrandor were close behind. Arhyld yelled into Marcus’ ear.

“What are those fires?”

“Storm Beacons! We are in luck! The Dwarves light them to guide ranging parties and travelers in times of windstorms! We should follow them!”

As soon as they reached the first fire, the road turned left towards the mountains. Through the darkness lit only by several more beacons, Arhyld could barely make out a large group of stone dwellings, but they seemed deserted.

“Where is everyone?” Arhyld asked Marcus.

“During storms, everyone in the village retreats to the castle!”

“What castle? I can’t see anything!”

Marcus pointed towards one of the fires and Arhyld was stunned by what he saw. The castle was built into the mountain. Nothing but the gates and two towers stood out from the great stonewall. The craftsmanship was amazing. It seemed to be able to hold up against anything nature or man could throw at it. They pushed on through the village and towards the castle. As they reached the enormous gates, Marcus shouted something in a strange language. A faint voice responded from atop a tower and a small door in the gates opened and the travelers were able to enter the castle. The door slammed shut behind them and the storm seemed to be no more. A robed dwarf approached accompanied by two guards. The guards were heavily armored and seemed uneasy. The robed one spoke in the Human Tongue.

“Who are you, travelers? Why do you come to Stormkeep during such times?”

Marcus took off his hood and made a swift gesture. The guards took out their swords, but the old dwarf ordered them to sheathe them back. He replied with another gesture and Marcus in turn did the same thing. Arhyld was growing confused. The old dwarf spoke again.

“Take the large man and the small one to our guest chambers. I need to speak with these two in private.”

The guards led Thrandor and Skip out of the small entry hall and up some stairs. Once the three were alone, the old dwarf looked at Marcus gravely.

“I suspect this is an important matter…Marcus, was it? I haven’t seen you in a while and have never spoken to you, I think.”

“Yes, Father Brodden. This matter is grave indeed. It has to do with the Tower and the Panacriph. The boy bears it.”

Brodden turned to Arhyld and measured him from head to toe.

“An Idyllian, eh? What’s your name, boy?”

“I am called Arhyld, Your Grace.”

The dwarf laughed. A jolly laughter, he had. When he stopped he smiled at Arhyld.

“Boy, you’re not too keen, are you? I’m not the King of these halls. Nor do these halls have a King. The Ash Mountains are but the northern part of Dranthermond’s mountains. We may be Dwarves, but we don’t belong to Dranthermond. We belong to Artana and it’s Artana’s King we answer to. The *Lord* of these halls and the Ash Mountains goes by the name of Darlan. I am but a humble Priest of Vall.”

Arhyld suddenly felt small and simple. He blushed. The dwarf laughed again.

“Come, now lad. You’re not a maiden, are you? Come! Follow me to the library. We shall discuss important matters there.”

The three exited the entry hall and passed through a tall and narrow archway. The next room was what Arhyld suspected to be the Grand Hall. Many doors and stairways led away from it. The hall itself was incredibly long, wide and tall. Two rows of columns supported the roof. The dwarf led them to the end of the hall. Three wooden doors stood there. A double door in the center and two smaller doors in the two corners. The center one led to the Lord’s Throne Room, the one to the right led to the Chapel of Vall and the one to the right, the one they entered, led to the library. The library room was in fact a very tall tower. The old dwarf led Arhyld and Marcus up a spiral stairway to the very top where his study and chambers were located. Arhyld found it difficult to climb the stairs, seeing how the steps were much smaller than normal steps, having been build for dwarven feet, and he was not accustomed to them. After a long while, they reached the study. Arhyld’s feet ached from the long walk and the climb. The dwarf invited the two to sit down. Arhyld found the chair to be very comfortable. Brodden cleared his throat and spoke.

“So, boy…you bear the Panacriph?”

“Yes, milord.”

“I told you before, lad. I am no lord. You may call me Father Brodden.”

“But…you are not my father…”

“Ah, I forget. You Idyllians don’t understand the concept of religion. Let’s not waste precious time with such things. We have important things to discuss. Lad, what do you know of the Four Wizards?”

“I know that the Fire Wizard was said to have been killed in the heart of mount Pyr.”

“Very well. Now, we dwarves are not too fond of the underground, but…”

“What? I thought that you lived in great caverns and that you…”

The dwarf frowned. Arhyld fell quiet and let him continue speaking.

“It is not very polite to interrupt, lad.”

“I am sorry. I just thought…”

“That we live like the Old Dwarves? No, boy. We dwarves moved out of the caverns a long time ago. It wasn’t healthy. All the dust and powdered gold and lead…Our main trade is still mining, but we usually live in villages at the surface. Each town or city has one great keep such as this one for refuge in times of war or storm. Many galleries have remained deserted and many have been forgotten. There is a door in the depths of the mountain with the symbol of the Panacriph on it. It is clear what lies beyond. It is said that when the Fire Mage died, his spirit created the door and engraved the symbol upon it. Lord Darlan, however, will most likely not allow you to go there. We shall see in the morning. You must rest now, boy. You’re probably tired.”

Arhyld stood up and thanked the dwarf for his help. Marcus led Arhyld to his room on the far side of the castle, back towards the entry hall. The walk there seemed to be a blur and he fell asleep without realizing it, as soon as he lay down on the soft bed.
 

CHAPTER FIVE: A Lesson on Economy

Arhyld woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. His room was one of the few in the castle that had natural lighting. The sun shone on the horizon. Arhyld got out of bed and got dressed. As he descended the stairway back into the Grand Hall he saw a lot of dwarves leaving the castle. They were returning to the town, Arhyld assumed. Some didn’t pay attention to him, some glanced at him curiously or untrustingly. Arhyld saw that Marcus, Thrandor and Skip were waiting for him near a door on the side of the hall. Arhyld approached and greeted them all. Thrandor grumbled. Skip jumped next to Arhyld.

“Can I tell him, Marc? Can I, please? Oh, I want to tell him! Let me tell him!”

Arhyld gave Marcus a confused look.

“What does he want to tell me?”

Marcus smiled and looked at Skip.

“Go on, Skip.”

“But, Marc…I can’t tell him. You never told me what you wanted to tell him. Why didn’t you tell me, Marc? Hmm? Why?”

Thrandor mumbled something and whacked Skip on the back of his head. Marcus cleared his throat and spoke.

“Yes, as we were trying to tell you, Arhyld…this door leads to the dwarven smithy. Now, I talked to Father Brodden about your mission. He told me that he was to try and convince Lord Darlan to grant you access to the deserted galleries. However, the Lord is short of temper and patience. He may change his mind, and that is why you have to be prepared when you show yourself to him. After he has given you leave, you must proceed immediately.”

Arhyld eagerly blurted.

“But I *am* ready!”

Marcus shook his head and pointed at Arhyld’s boots. Leather.

“Do you mean to brave the depths of the volcano wearing leather? You need new boots, young Paladin. The smithy might have what you’re looking for. Come on.”

Arhyld stood silent and shamed. He slowly followed Marcus into the smithy. The clanging of hammers and the heat of forge fires was omnipresent. Marcus approached the lead smith. A mid-aged dwarf with no beard. Arhyld was surprised to see a shaven dwarf, but after all, who could work near a fire while wearing a foot-long bunch of hair on his chin? The dwarf rested the hammer on his anvil and looked at the four. Marcus gently pushed Arhyld forward. The young man cleared his throat and introduced himself.

“I’m Drent. Master smith of Stormkeep.” The dwarf said holding out his hand. “How may I help you, human?”

“Well, I am looking for a pair of boots. Something light and resistant to heat.”

“Hmm…follow me, then. The shop is this way.”

The dwarf led them to a room beyond the smithy. It was full of glass cases with pieces of armor and weapons on display. The weapons were by far too short, having been made by dwarves. So were the cuirasses and other armor components, though a few seemed to have been crafted for humans. Arhyld checked out the display cases and suddenly, his eyes fell upon a pair of boots. They shone under the torchlight and they seemed to be made of a strange metal, similar to his bracers. Adamantine, he thought. The boots covered the leg from foot to under the knee in the back, and went above the kneecaps on the front side. They bore the dwarven insignia below the knee: a golden hammer inside a kite shape. They seemed to be light enough, just as the bracers. The smith noticed Arhyld’s interest and opened the case.

“A good choice, master human. My great-ancestor crafted these boots. His name was also Drent, it was. Drent the Nimble they called him. Us Dwarves are not too fast or fancy-dancy, but Drent was, they say. Many found it funny to see such grace in a dwarf, but he paid them no heed. He was an enchanter as well as a smith and he once decided to help all dwarves be as gifted as him. He crafted boots that would make them more agile, ye see? But the problem is, them boots can’t help one that has no skill whatsoever. They can’t give you something that ye can’t control or something that you have not. Them boots were long lost or broken and only these remain. He crafted them for a human-size and wanted to make a business out of them, but poor soul died before he could. In the Chaos Wars. What say you, lad? They cost a pretty penny, though.”

Arhyld considered it for a moment but not for long. He decided to buy them.

“I can pay what you ask of me. I have enough gold on me to…”

“Gold?! Do you mock me, human? This mountain is practically *made* of gold! We drink from golden goblets and we eat with golden spoons and forks. What do I want with gold money?”

“But…sir. I thought gold was…the humans think it to be valuable. I have nothing else to pay but…”

The Dwarf didn’t seem to listen. He rambled on.

“…damn elves. Let’s see them make their jewels with no gold to shine prettily. Let’s see them. Thought they were smart, hoarding all the silver!”

Arhyld grinned. He understood it to some degree. Everyone found gold to be more valuable than silver, except for the dwarves, as it appeared. He reached for the bottom of his bag and took out five fist-sized chunks of silver. The ones that remained from forging his sword. The dwarf’s eyes widened. Arhyld tried to sound bored.

“I trust this would be satisfactory?”

The glint in the smith’s eyes was unmistakable.

“Aye. It will. That’ll even buy you a nice sword sheathe. Wait here. Try the boots on, if you will.”

The dwarf hurried back into the forge. Arhyld started to put on the boots and looked towards Marcus. The man was smiling.

“Well done and well thought, Arhyld.”

“Thank you. Though, I must ask. Why the difference in economy?”

“Remember when I told you that the peoples of Artana don’t get along well anymore? The Dwarves mine about everything from these mountains save from Mithril and silver. The Elves have those. When the relationships between the Dwarves and Elves grew cold, prices rose quickly for gold to the Elves and to silver to the Dwarves. And seeing how the humans prefer the elves, it was the same for them. The kingdom is going through a crisis, but that need not concern you. Your task is to…”

Marcus’ line was cut short when Arhyld finished putting on the second boot and jumped to his feet. He was propelled several feet into the air and landed on his back. The dwarf was entering the room again and started to laugh.

“What did I tell you? You need to control them. Do you still want to make your purchase?”

Arhyld steadied himself and stepped sideways. It was more of a slide, but he seemed to be alright.

“Yes, please. It was just the initial shock. I’ll get used to it. Is that the sheathe?”

The dwarf was holding a beautiful sheathe made of steel dressed in boiled leather straps. It was light and sturdy. Arhyld attached it to his belt, the one Gorg’Thal had given him a year and more ago. The dwarf took the old sheathe and the boots from Arhyld. I trust you won’t be needing these anymore?

“No, I…wait!” Arhyld quickly reached into the side of the right boot and pulled out the dagger Myter made for him. Looking into his new boots, he noticed a compartment that seemed to have been made for the same purpose. He slid the dagger in and bowed to the shopkeeper after giving him the silver.

“Thank you, good sir.”

“It was a pleasure, human. And between the two of us…I wouldn’t have sold you anything if Father Brodden hadn’t vouched for you. Don’t be sending friends around here for bargains, y’hear?”

“Fine, master Drent, I won’t. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, boy. Be sure to train with those boots until you master them.”

Arhyld realized that the smith had been serious, as he started to skip towards the exit while he tried to walk.

“What’s the matter, Paladin Pal? You want to steal Skip’s name, do you?”

“That’s not funny, Skip. Come on. Let’s go see the Lord of Stormkeep.”

Marcus and Skip followed. Thrandor started after them after his traditional grumbling. Lord Darlan was expecting them.
 

Wow, that's long. (at least longer than anything I wrote) :lol:

I'll have go and read all the chapters, looks good (I skimmed through a bit).

Wheat! I gots readers!  ^_^  

CHAPTER SIX: Dark Elves

Lord Darlan was a stout dwarf, but not fat. He looked like a strong man. A heavy-looking warhammer leaned on his seat. Two guards in gilded armor were standing on each side. His face looked severe. His beard was short and his hair dark. He greeted the travelers coldly and asked them to state their business. Marcus nudged Arhyld. The boy cleared his throat and spoke carefully.

“My Lord, I am a Paladin of Dawn. I have been sent by General Derron to investigate a matter in the lower caverns of Stormkeep and Mount Pyr. I would like your approval to enter these caverns and…”

“Spare me the story, Paladin. What do you want there?” Darlan asked abruptly.

“My Lord, I am not allowed to speak of this matter. I only ask for your trust in the name of the Order of Dawn and…”

“Pah! You Paladins are all the same. You think you have the right to go wherever you please, don’t you? I know how Paladins uphold their “honor”. I’ll let you know that I don’t intend to let you through! Your kind corrupted the once great city of Valdar!” Anger seemed to flow from the dwarf’s eyes and in an instead he stood up and picked up his warhammer. Arhyld stepped back. Marcus clinched ready for battle. Thrandor drew his axe and Skip jumped in front of Arhyld, his hand already grasping a knife up his left sleeve. Arhyld acted quickly and grabbed Skip’s arm and gestured to his companions to stop.

“My Lord, I meant no offense. I know what you think of the Paladins and you are mostly right. However, we Paladins of Dawn strive to maintain our honor. Please. Let’s not shed blood here.”

The dwarf smiled bitterly and put down his hammer.

“I know, boy. Brodden told me of Derron and his Order. I was merely testing you. Forgive a dwarf’s quirks, but one cannot be too careful in such times. I shall grant you access to the halls below, but only after you prove yourself.”

Arhyld’s companions put back their weapons and Arhyld asked the dwarf what he would have him do.

The dwarf spoke in a severe voice. “I never liked Elves. They are arrogant and think themselves superior. They tried to take us over one time, long ago. We dwarves refused to trade with them since. It wasn’t a good move for our economy. Our mountains hold no silver this side of Storm’s Pass. Silver is an important metal in the process through which we obtain Mithril. Elves have plenty of silver, yet they long for gold to make their precious jewels. We could trade with them, but we do not want to. Dark Elves, however, are even worse. They have a village on the other side of Storm’s Pass, about halfway towards the exit out of the Mountains. We heard rumors that they might have silver, but none of the scouts ever returned. Some nights you can hear horrible screams coming from those directions. The Dark Elves must be fierce warriors to take on armored and well-trained dwarves. I want them eliminated. A troop of twenty of my best warriors will attempt to take them by surprise today and destroy the evil creatures forever. If you wish to prove yourself, Paladin, you must accompany them. I will not ask you to die for me as a dwarf would. But I want you to fight for me. Do you accept?”

Skip blurted out. “No. No. No. No. No. No. No way in…”

“Yes.” Arhyld said. “I shall do this. You don’t have to come with me, Skip. Nor do you, Thrandor. Or you, Marcus.”

“Hmph. A Tegarian doesn’t fear battle.” Thrandor grumbled.

“I shall come with you, Arhyld. You show courage or foolishness, but those are a true hero’s attributes.” Marcus spoke, smiling.

Skip looked around nervously.

“Paladin pal…Big T…Marc…I…what if we don’t return? This is not how Skip would die. Skip wants to die of old age, surrounded by beautiful women and knowing that he has left dozens of children behind.”

Marcus put a hand on Skip’s shoulder.

“Gold and glory. It is what you became an adventurer for, Skip. Remember? Live or die, what does it matter? I know you are not afraid, only cautious, but try to remember when the three of us ever lost a fight. And now we will have a Paladin and twenty elite dwarf soldiers with us. Are you coming or are you not?”

Skip took less than a second to make up his mind.

“When you’re right, you’re right, Marc. Singers shall sing songs of this songworthy battle we shall fight. Let’s go. For gold and glory!”

Darlan smiled.

“Well, I see that you all made up your minds. The troop shall await you outside the castle. May Vall guide your way, brave warriors.”

They retreated from the Lord’s Chamber and as they paced through the grand hall, Marcus noticed that Arhyld was still having trouble walking properly.

“Arhyld! Whose feet are those?” Marcus asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer me.”

“Mine.”

“Well, make them listen then. Let them know who gives the orders. Force your own will upon them.”

Arhyld tried to concentrate and after a few minutes, he seemed to walk more easily, almost normally.

“Hey…this actually works!” Arhyld said, jumping into the air with happiness. The boots once more propelled him up and he landed flat on his back. Marcus helped him up.

“Practice more as we walk to the Dark Elves’ camp.”

The troop of dwarves met them outside. They were all wearing golden suits of armor and were armed with warhammers. They gathered in formation and started to march towards their goal. The four travelers followed behind. It was noon. The sky was covered with thin gray clouds and the air was chilly. No one spoke a word for an hour. After that, the troop of dwarves stopped and one of them gestured for the travelers to approach. One of them spoke in a low voice.

“This is where their village is.” The dwarf said, pointing towards a narrow pass with stairs dug into the stone, which led into the cliff and upwards. “We have to follow this path.”

One of the dwarves laughed.

“I hear the Dark Elves skin their captives alive.”

“I hear they take their eyes out and make them walk towards the edge of the cliffs.” Said another.

“Balderdash! They tear out your entrails with their own claws and rip your limbs away from your body.” Said a third.

“Quiet!” Barked the officer. “Let’s go.”

The path led them on for about twenty minutes. After that, they carefully emerged from the stairway, onto a vast plateau, surrounded by tall peaks. It was like a castle’s yard, surrounded by walls. On the plateau they could see a lot of simple-looking huts and one large one. A tunnel was dug into the mountain wall on the other side. Arhyld walked ahead of everyone else and was suddenly attacked by something from the shadows. He grabbed the creature that was hanging onto his back and threw it on the ground in front of him, drawing his sword at the same time. His eyes widened. It was a small boy. But his face…his forehead looked like it had caved in, and his nose looked like a stump. His eyes were small and narrow and far one from another. He whimpered. One of the dwarves yelled and jumped towards the boy with his hammer raised to strike. Arhyld stopped him just in time.

“Stop it, you fool! He’s just a boy!”

“Aye! One that will grow to be as cruel as his parents! I lost a brother to these wretches and I’ll be damned if…”

“Paladin Pal! Bigmouth! More are coming!”

The dwarves all saw that Skip was telling the truth and prepared for battle. Fifty people approached. They all looked like humans, but with long pointy ears. They were ragged and seemed scared. One’s face seemed to have been bitten off by half. Another was missing a right hand. A woman was hunchbacked and had a massive chin. All of them with no exceptions seemed to have a horrible disfiguration. Arhyld felt pity for these people. They gathered around the fallen boy and a woman picked him up. The dwarf that tried to kill him went for his hammer again.

“Come on! Let’s send these creatures to the land of Chaos!”

“Stop!” Arhyld shouted again. “Do these look like fierce warriors to you? Do they look like they could have killed trained warriors? Do they look like they are carrying weapons? Put down your hammer, dwarf!”

“Quiet, human whelp! We were sent to exterminate the Dark Elves and that’s what we’ll do! They killed my brother!”

“*Something* killed your brother, and you’ve been sent to destroy what did that, but I doubt that these poor souls had anything to do with that, you foolish dwarf!”

A soft raspy voice spoke from behind him.

“You are right, Arhyld of the Paladins. We had nothing to do with the killings.”

Arhyld was surprised. How did this man know his name? He turned to face him, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
 

CHAPTER SEVEN: Menace in the Mountains

Ready to draw his sword, Arhyld turned around. He was facing a lean elf. He had crooked teeth and a broad chin. The right side of his face was badly burned. He drew his sword and held it low, ready for battle.

“Who are you and how do you know my name?” Arhyld asked the elf.

The elf grinned showing his crooked teeth. He raised his hands to show that he had no weapons. His fingers bore silver rings. Upon closer inspection, Arhyld realized that most of the elves wore silver jewelry. The tall one spoke.

“Don’t be angry, Arhyld. It’s my job to know things like these. You can see that we are unarmed. Please, let’s be civilized and talk in my hall.”

Arhyld let down his sword. The dark elves scattered and the one that Arhyld assumed to be the leader, led them to the large hut they had seen earlier. Everyone followed. The dwarves were a bit wary but they followed cautiously. Inside the hut they all sat down around a large table. The elf looked towards them and smiled. If it could have been called that.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the current leader of the Dark Elves. You may call me Scorch. Before anyone says anything, yes, it is my name. We Dark Elves receive names adequate to our…conditions when we arrive to the community. I know what you must think. That we murdered your precious dwarves. Well, my good sirs, let me inform you that your scouts never made it to our village. They were abducted and savaged by ogres from the Wilderness of Artana. Some of them found a cave from their camp to a place nearby. They don’t even need to go on the roads to get here. They go under the mountain. Your battle is with them, not us. We’re just a poor community of beggars.”

Arhyld eyed the elf suspiciously.

“How do you get your food? How do you manage to live in this barren land?”

“Arhyld, you of all people should know that in dire times, one relies on his skills to survive. What skills would an ugly elf have, you might wonder. Well, let me explain where we come from. The elves. The elves are arrogant. The elves think themselves superior. The elves want to be forever beautiful and “perfect”. The loved elves. The wise elves. The cherished elves. You want to know how they maintain their precious beauty?” The dark elf seemed almost angry. “They decide who marries who. They plan families. They even inbreed! The rejects, the less-than-perfect are cast out. This is where they arrive. We are their trash and their filth. We are the unlucky followers of their perfect civilization, unworthy to live amongst them. However, we still know the elves’ way. We can lurk in the shadows, we can use the nature around us for shelter and we can hide where you don’t know one could hide. We sell information and we know everything that moves in Artana. If times are tough, we sell silver. It’s abundant in the mines we found on this side of the pass…”

A dwarf’s eyes glinted. “You have silver?”

“Master dwarf, advise you not to think of taking our only resource. We’ve made sure that no one but us can enter the mines.” Scorch grinned. “However…if you’d take care of our common problem, I will consider a trading contract with your people. As you may have noticed, the stairway that leads up here is too narrow for an ogre to go through, but they sometimes stalk the bottom to get the foolish and the unwary. Get rid of the ogres and then we’ll talk. Do we have a deal?”

The dwarf captain sat for a moment, thinking and then nodded.

“Aye. We’ll return once we’ve gotten rid of the foul creatures.”

“Excellent! You’ll find their cave across the pass from our village. There’s a group of a dozen ogres in there. If you can find a way to seal off the cave, that would be good too. Ensure that reinforcements don’t come back.”

“Fine, elf. But don’t try to trick us. Lord Darlan wouldn’t like that.”

“Do not worry, master dwarf. I honor my promises.”

A half an hour later, Arhyld, his companions and the dwarf troop were at the mouth of a cave. Arhyld had seen neither the cave nor the stairs to the village on their way to Stormkeep, but it had been dark. A foul smell came out of the cave. The dwarves prepared to enter, but Marcus halted them.

“Have any of you ever seen an ogre?” He asked. The dwarves shook their heads. “Massive brutes. They are almost eight feet tall and use tree trunks and large stones as weapons. Ogres are simple-minded by nature, but fierce in battle. They wear no armor, but their flesh is thick and hard. Try to get them in the knees, or, if you can reach that high, their eyes and their throats.” Marcus smiled looking down at the dwarves. They grumbled, obviously not amused, and they prepared for battle. Marcus pulled Arhyld aside and measured him with his eyes. Arhyld was already beginning to control the boots.

“Arhyld…those boots can be a valuable advantage in combat, but you need to use them accordingly. Tell me, is there anything that requires agility and that you are good at?”

Arhyld blushed and looked to the ground.

“The teachers at the academy in Idyll always told me that I’m the greatest dancer they ever saw…but I hardly think that will help.”

“On the contrary, Arhyld. As we fight, I would like you to be careful and avoid danger, but if need be, use your dancing skills to your advantage.”

“Marcus…are you joking? I don’t think this is the time to do this…”

“Dancing requires balance, agility, skill. It’s not something anyone can do. Trust me.”

Arhyld nodded and took out a torch. He led the others through the cave after lighting it. The path was straight and easy to walk. After a while, they came to a large section of a cave. Fires burned there and dried bones and pieces of armor were scattered all over. The stench was unbearable. For a few seconds. After that, the smell became their least worry, as twelve gigantic ogres ran into the hall. The dwarves took out their warhammers and charged. Skip whimpered and jumped for cover as he drew a few daggers. Thrandor was already shouting a battle cry and he leapt into the fray with his axe. Marcus drew his broadsword and calmly paced towards the ogres. Arhyld drew Justice and the Assassin’s Dagger. He gathered all his will and tried to make the boots propel him over the line of dwarves. He was successful. In fact, he almost hit the cave roof with his head. Landing in front of one of the ogres, Arhyld stumbled to his feet. The beast was running towards him with a gigantic club. He remembered Marcus’ advice. Balance, agility, skill. He took a deep breath and crouched as the ogre came closer. The ogre started to run and Arhyld quickly lunged between its legs and emerged behind the beast. The ogre turned around groaning and raised the club. Arhyld rolled out of the way and spun around, slashing at the creature’s legs. The ogre yelled and stumbled onto its knees. Arhyld took advantage of the opportunity and slashed at its throat. A thick dark-red blood splashed out and Arhyld jumped out of the collapsing beast’s way.

The Dwarves had split up in groups of two and three and started to attack the ogres. They used the great hammers to crush their knees, bringing them down so they could kill them. An ogre managed to grab a dwarf and tore him apart. Another dwarf was crushed by an ogre’s weapon. The ogres seemed not to care that they were in a fight. One of them picked up a dead dwarf and started to devour its leg while attacking another one.

Thrandor had started to swing his axe around and killed two ogres by reaching for their heads with the axe’s blade in with fierce raging blows. The ogres stood no chance, though one almost managed to blow Thrandor’s head clear off his shoulders. Skip chose not to get involved in close combat, but he managed to kill one of the ogres with two knives aimed towards the eyes. Marcus seemed not to care about the battle. He was calmly hacking at one of the ogre’s neck after he had brought it down. They were winning. After long minutes of battle, four dwarves had died, but none of the living ones had been wounded. The leader took off his helm.

“These savages were eating their captives alive. I recognize these helms. They used to belong to dwarven scouts. The dark elf was right. Lord Darlan must hear of this. Come, let us bury our dead.”

Arhyld glanced towards the gored corpses, feeling sorry for the poor dwarves. He agreed. Marcus, however seemed to have a different opinion.

“We should not linger here. More may…look out, Arhyld!”

Arhyld turned around and saw an ogre larger than the rest charging towards him. Before he managed to react, a lightning bolt hit the beast in the chest, sending it to the ground. As Arhyld turned around, he saw electricity crackling at Marcus’ fingertips.

“How did you…”

“No time now, Arhyld. I hear more of them approaching. Run!”

And they ran through the cave, retracing their steps backwards until they emerged from the foul lair. Marcus turned to face the cavern mouth and started to speak an incantation. The words were spoken louder and louder, until an explosion of fire hit the wall of the mountain, causing the cavern to cave in, trapping the ogres inside. Marcus wobbled on his feet. He was tired. Arhyld helped him walk back to the dark elven village.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT: Enflamed

Arhyld woke up in his chamber at Stormkeep. Lord Darlan was pleased to hear about the Dark Elves agreeing to trade with them and agreed to their terms. Dwarves were not admitted inside the village. Trading was to take place in Storm’s Pass at the bottom of the stairs. The dwarves would trade food, clothing and other goods in exchange for silver. They had returned before nightfall. The storm began shortly after they arrived back to Stormkeep. The Dwarves mourned their fallen ones, but rejoiced when they heard that the ogres had been dealt with. Lord Darlan told Arhyld to return to the hall first thing in the morning. It was time.

He was descending the stairs and thinking about what Marcus had told him last night. Marcus was a mage. He kept it secret for a long time, even to Skip and Thrandor because Thrandor didn’t trust magic and Skip was too…talkative. Marcus did not like to draw attention upon himself and thus only used his magic in dire situations.

Thrandor, Skip and Marcus were already waiting for him in Lord Darlan’s chamber. However, the dwarf refused to let anyone but Arhyld enter the Forbidden Gallery. Father Brodden had told him to trust the Panacriph while he descended. As Arhyld asked where the Forbidden Gallery was, Lord Darlan led him to the back of the hall and showed him a large stone door with a circular slot on it.

“We never managed to open this door, but we intersected the gallery with other mining tunnels. However, it collapsed often, so we decided that it *wants* to be left alone. Well, good luck, Paladin. Brodden told me to leave you be after I show you the way. May Vall guide your path.”

Arhyld nodded and thanked the dwarf. As Darlan walked back to his chamber, Arhyld took out the Panacriph and inserted it into the slot. It fit perfectly and it clicked into place. The gray gem started to glow and the door opened with a loud rumble. Arhyld stepped through. He took out a torch from his pack. He only had two left. He lit it and started down a long stairwell. The steps were finely carved into the stone and not treacherous as Arhyld thought they would be. From time to time, Arhyld would see the places where the dwarven mines had once intersected with the stairway. All that remained were piles of boulders sealing the gallery from the rest of the mines. The stairs went on and lower for an hour. Finally, Arhyld reached another large stone door, exactly like the one back in Stormkeep. It had gotten warm. Rock piles suggested that the dwarves had reached this door, but their tunnels suffered collapse once more. Arhyld took a deep breath and again placed the Panacriph into the slot. The door opened and he went through. A wave of warmth and light hit Arhyld’s face. He grasped the Panacriph in his hand. It seemed to absorb some of the warmth. A strong stench of brimstone was in the air. As Arhyld’s eyes became adjusted with the light, he saw that he was in the very heart of the volcano. The crater opened hundreds of feet above him and released smoke into the gray sky. The red pool of flowing lava took up most of the cavern. Several stones spread pretty far apart one from another led to a tall stone pillar rising from the middle of the pool.

A rumble. Arhyld turned around. The door was closed. Panicked, he raced back to it and saw the slot on the door. It was a circle with a spike coming out of its lower right corner. He placed the Panacriph into the slot but it fell out. Arhyld resigned. He wasn’t going to be allowed out until his work there was done. He looked at the stones. Too far apart for one to jump. However, he had a pair of boots made by Drent the Nimble. He approached the edge of the pool and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He crouched and concentrated. As he threw himself into the air, he closed his eyes and braced himself for landing. He fell on hard ground. He was on one of the stones. Giving a sigh of relief, Arhyld stood up. He looked at the next stone and jumped for it again. He fell close to the edge. His foot slipped into the lava, almost knee-deep. He held his breath and for a moment he thought he was doomed. He drew his leg out and gave a breath of relief. The adamantine was unharmed. In fact, it was still cold. Arhyld continued towards the pillar, leap by leap, until he finally reached it. He looked at the surface. The jagged bits sticking out of the stone were perfect for his goal. He started to scale, using them as he would a ladder.

Arhyld had experience in climbing. Many a time had he climbed to the top of the Forbidden Cliff back in Idyll. Though, back then he didn’t fear falling into a pool of molten lava. Ten minutes later, he was atop the pillar, standing on top of a wide platform. A small stone obelisk stood in the middle. As Arhyld approached, he started to feel heat emanating from it. The obelisk bore a slot just like the one on the door. A circle with a point emerging from its lower-right side. Arhyld placed the Panacriph into the orifice. The ground started to rumble and the obelisk became so warm that Arhyld had to shield his face. The stoned turned bright red and then back to its initial colour. The air cooled down. Arhyld was wary touching the Panacriph, but the amulet was cold. As soon as he touched it, one of the points of the symbol, the lower-right one, which bore the symbol of Fire emerged once more.

Arhyld took the Panacriph and wore it around his neck. He turned around to head for the exit and found himself face to face with a living flame in the shape of a man. Its blazing eyes watched Arhyld as it grew a sword out of its hand and chopped the air in front of the boy’s head. He quickly raised his arm, parrying the blow with his left bracer. Drawing his sword he slashed at the flame, but his blade went right through and left his opponent unharmed. Another parried blow. Arhyld rolled out of the way, thinking of how to defeat a flame. His thoughts went back to Idyll. To his friends and to his family. Back to Myter. He had entrusted him with a mission. He couldn’t fail. Not now. Not like this. His sword was starting to glow in an orange shade, but Arhyld didn’t notice. The flame approached again and raised its sword. Arhyld was on his knees and vulnerable. Derron, Myter, Marcus, Skip, Thrandor, his parents. He had to live. For them. He raised his sword and just as the fire came slashing down, Justice burst aflame. The swords collided. Sparks flew. Arhyld gasped. There were legends that some paladins could make their swords ignite, but he thought it was only a legend. They said that only the purest, the bravest, the best of paladins could do it. Why him? He was but a boy of sixteen. Arhyld got up to his feet and dodged another blow. He brought down his flaming sword and cut off the figure’s sword arm. It and the sword dissolved into thin air. The boy spun around and thrusted the sword right into the flaming man’s chest. Fire against fire. The flame screamed and took the shape of a red-orange beam before flying into the Panacriph. The impact threw Arhyld back. He stood on his feet.

The fight was over. The small obelisk turned red again and Arhyld didn’t think twice before sheathing his sword and leaping from the pillar. A wave of red fire swept the platform a mere second after Arhyld jumped. He landed in a crouch on one of the stones below and lunged towards the exit. A few leaps later, he was placing the Panacriph into the door. He started to feel warm. The door opened up and Arhyld ran through. His skin started to feel hot. As he dashed up the stairs, his mind became clouded, his vision blurry. He couldn’t think straight anymore, but his legs carried him onward. Arhyld felt his blood starting to boil. His skin starting to crack. The door was so close. He felt like he had been running forever. The pain was excruciating. The door was a few steps away. His skin felt like it was peeled from his bones and the burning pain stopped as he collapsed in Lord Darlan’s chamber. He saw smoke rising from his body and his eyes closed. He heard a faint voice crying out his name and everything went black.

END OF PART ONE
 

PART TWO: WATER

CHAPTER ONE: Retribution

Arhyld felt well the next morning, though the pain of the burning death was still alive in his memory. He felt death by fire, he was sure of it. His friends told him that smoke was rising from his body as he dropped down to the floor, but his body was unharmed. The flaming man had been the Fire Wizard’s spirit. Arhyld was sure of it. The pain he felt was the pain the wizard felt when he died. The wizard’s spirit was part of the Panacriph now. And the Panacriph was part of Arhyld. He understood now, although one thing was unclear. Had he caused the sword to burst into flame, or had it been the power of the element of fire?

His friends had been overjoyed to see that he was alive and well. Even Thrandor had smiled. Lord Darlan and Father Brodden had wished the four the best of luck in accomplishing their goals as they left the dwarven castle. Arhyld’s deeds had not gone unnoticed among the common dwarves either. As he walked past they no longer looked at him untrusting as they once had. Some smiled, some cried out his name and those of his companions. Marcus leaned over to Arhyld and whispered in his ear.

“While the attention is not something we really crave at this moment, I must say that you’ve done much for this community, Arhyld. Stormkeep and Storm’s Pass will surely thrive over the coming years.”

Arhyld blushed at hearing Marcus’ words.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Marcus. Or without Skip and Thrandor. We’ve done it. Not I.”

As they walked back the now familiar path of Storm’s Pass, Arhyld took out a map of Artana trying to figure out where they would go next. As they left the mountains and the pass, Thrandor interrupted Arhyld’s ponderings.

“Marcus. I hope we’re going to Iss’a now, no? Or does the little prince have another errand to run?”

“Ah! Yes, Thrandor, I suspect it is time to go to Iss’a and inquire about the dragon hunt, is it not? Arhyld…I trust you will agree to this?”

Arhyld agreed. “Sure. I’m in no big hurry. Plus, I always wanted to see a dragon. So, where to?”

“To the Dragon Flame Inn, my companions. We are sure to find information on this dragon hunt there. Let us go.” Marcus gestured.

It was mid-morning when the ogres had ambushed them at the exit from Storm’s Pass. They were vastly outnumbered and had no choice than to surrender. As Marcus had once stated, the ogres were not the brightest creatures in Artana. They had tied them up, but had left their weapons, and did not stay close to them. Two ogres watched them from behind while the rest led them east. They followed the mountains in that direction and after a while they saw the river on their right. Thaw River it was called, for flowing from the icy land of Iss’a. As the space between the Mountains and the river started to narrow, they knew that they were reaching their destination. Arhyld remembered the place from the maps he had seen of Artana. The Ogre camp. The four gathered close to one another as they walked. Skip was struggling with his bonds.

“Can anyone reach these blasted knots, fair companions? Being eaten today strikes not my fancies. These Ogres, dumb as they may be, tie one hell of a knot. This usually poses no problem to me, but I just…Open up, you damn knot!”

Marcus nudged Skip to let him know he was too loud.

“Listen to me. We can escape this predicament if we use what we know of ogres. They are idiotic and easily flattered. They fancy themselves as being fine and gallant. Now, I want everyone to ponder on a way in which we can defeat these beasts.”

Arhyld tried hard to think of a way to outsmart the ogres. He attempted to reach his weapons, but to no avail. Thrandor was looking annoyed as usual. Skip, however, started to smile. He had a plan. Arhyld was sure of it. As they approached the camp, he was horrified. The ground was red with dried blood and the ogres’ rough homes were decorated with human remains, bones and rotting flesh. Arhyld’s eyes widened. He glanced over at Marcus, but the mage seemed as indifferent as ever. In the middle of the camp there was a lit fire. Several ogres were sitting beside it. As the patrol party approached, the others stood to their feet. Arhyld noticed that one of them was larger and bore many necklaces. “The leader”, he thought. Counting all of the ogres he saw that there were about twenty. Far too many to fight by themselves.

One of the gigantic beasts shoved them in front of their leader. Ogres could speak, Arhyld knew, but they spoke the human language quite hard. The leader peered down at Arhyld.

“You humans kill ogres. Crash ogre caves. For this ogres are eating humans. We ogres be proud and smart and do not like humans kill ogres.”

Skip cleared his throat. Arhyld turned his head to him and saw Marcus nod at Skip. The little thief stepped forward.

“Your giant ogreness. A word if I may. I wish to tell something of Paladin Pal.”

The ogre eyed Skip and told him to approach.

“What, puny human?”

“Why, your largeness, words have reached my ears of the refinement and culture of ogres. You see…Paladin Pal over here is a master, a grandmaster even, of dancing. I think that only creatures of your intelligence and taste could appreciate my friend’s art. Please, before you eat us, let him dance a last dance before you. People all over the world will envy you for what you have seen.”

Arhyld was confused. How would dancing help them? He glanced over and Marcus and saw the mage approve. The leader of the ogres thought a bit and then ordered one of his subjects to untie Arhyld.

“Don’t try anything. We ogres can’t be outsmart by stupid humans. Now dance, puny boy.”

Arhyld rubbed his wrists as he felt them free and looked at Marcus again. The man just nodded and said “Dance.” And then Arhyld understood. He felt silly dancing without a partner, but still, he started moving smoothly, spinning, sliding, swaying, and slowly moving closer and closer to the ogre leader. Marcus’ words came back into his mind. “As we fight, I would like you to be careful and avoid danger, but if need be, use your dancing skills to your advantage.” he had told him before the battle in the caves. “Dancing requires balance, agility, skill…” and so did battle. It was all clear now. The ogre leader was mesmerized by Arhyld’s smooth moves. The boots were helping him, Arhyld knew. And he moved one step closer.

A swift move, a swooshing sound, a collective gasp of surprise and Arhyld was hanging from one of the leader’s shoulders, his sword trust upward through the roof of the beast’s mouth and emerging from the top of its head. Arhyld withdrew his sword causing blood to erupt from the leader’s head. He kicked the dead body, propelling himself back next to his friends as the ogre collapsed. All of this happened in less than a second. Before anyone realized what had happened, Arhyld was drawing the Assassin’s Dagger and traced the runes on the handle. It went dark and then his voice cried out “Cover your eyes!” His friends did just that and a flash of bright light blinded the ogres as Arhyld untied his friends’ bonds. And the battle began.
 

CHAPTER TWO: The Dragon Flame

Fighting half-blinded ogres, while exhausting, was not too hard or dangerous. The beasts stood no chance against the four companions. After the battle was done, Arhyld gave a cheer and met Marcus’ curious eyes staring at him.

“I see you have come to terms with murder, Arhyld?” the mage inquired.

“What do you mean?”

“A few days ago you killed a Tegarian in the marketplace. You were devastated. Now, however, you seemed to enjoy the slaughter.”

“What? No, it’s not like that, and you know it! These were bloodthirsty beasts. Evil creatures. We did the world a favor here!”

“And who are you to judge that, Arhyld? You say they were ‘evil’ creatures. What is evil? To them it seemed perfectly normal to eat human flesh. To them we were the ‘evil’ ones. And we lived up to our reputation, did we not? However you look at this, what we did here was a massacre.”

Arhyld took a second to consider all the mage had said. It couldn’t be right. It just couldn’t, and yet…it made perfect sense.

“They were going to eat us, Marcus. We had no other choice.”

“Oh, I agree, young Paladin. It was kill or be killed, but that still does not make us ‘good’ and them ‘evil’. That is why I told you to get used to killing back at the marketplace. If you are to be an adventurer, you will have to deal death quite often. It does not matter if you will kill men or women, if you will kill goblins or orcs, or ogres or dragons. Killing will be killing. However, do not think that it makes you ‘evil’. You will learn that ‘good’ and ‘evil’ do not exist.”

“What? What do you mean? Good and Evil don’t exist? But that’s…”

“…a lesson for another time. Come, now. It is past midday and we have to reach The Dragon Flame by evening, or our Tegarian friend shall bear you a grudge that will last for years to come.”

They walked back, following Thaw River downstream. They reached the road that ran north from Storm’s Pass. They crossed the bridge and followed the road north until they reached the crossroads. Skyreach Tower, or The Forbidden Tower as the people of Artana called it, was watching over them from the north. The road west, Arhyld knew, led back to the market, The Weary Wanderer and Valdar. The road West led into the wilderness. This crossroad was where someone saw fit to establish an inn for “adventurers”. In fact, The Dragon Flame was the exact opposite of The Weary Wanderer. Scum from all of the corners of Cerylion gathered here to take a break before heading on: brawlers, thieves, bandits, murderers, tomb raiders, assassins, mercenaries and more. They all gathered at the Dragon Flame when they had business in Artana. And now there were rumors of a dragon here.

The inn was overcrowded and Arhyld felt eyes upon him as he entered. He loosened his weapons in their sheathes and tried his best to look dangerous enough to be left alone. Someone groaned as Arhyld passed by and the boy made the mistake to give him a look that might have been interpreted as threatening. The large man who had groaned stood up and shoved Arhyld. Arhyld turned to him and looked into the man’s eyes. He was a massive brute, bald and wearing a short beard. Arhyld didn’t notice any weapons on him and by the man’s silent stare he could gather that he didn’t speak Artana’s tongue. Arhyld noticed that everyone’s eyes were upon him, the man was beginning to lose patience and his friends were getting nervous. He pondered his options, sighed and took out his sword. The man roared and tried to hit Arhyld with a massive fist. Arhyld ducked out of the way under the man’s arm and kicked him on the back of his knee. The man fell and Arhyld knocked him out with a swift blow on the back of the head with his sword’s hilt. He stepped over the man and attempted his coldest stare as he glanced about the room. Everyone went back to their meals and drinks. With luck they would think twice before trying to give him trouble. Too bad the big oaf had to pay for that. The four walked up to the bar, Arhyld constantly shrugging off the tavern wenches that had been impressed by either his courage, or his rich-looking clothes.

The barkeep and tavern owner was an old man with a face full of scars and a missing eye. They asked for rooms and the man started looking for keys.

“Bah! Adventurers, again?” he barked when they introduced themselves. “Off to kill the dragon, no doubt? You and every single soul here! It’s all I’ve been hearing lately! Bah! Dragons. Back in my traveling days I used to battle beasts twice the size of a normal man, but dragons…dragons are different. You don’t just kill a dragon, dammit! I fought a wyvern once and I lost an eye. And that was when I used to travel with an entire party! They all died, I lost an eye. And now you lot claim you want to *kill* a *dragon*.”

Thrandor puffed and spoke in a haughty voice.

“Giant lizards do not scare me, old man. We will kill that beast!”

The barkeep opened his mouth to reply, but Marcus cut him off.

“We are not going there to kill, Thrandor. We are going to investigate.”

“Whatever. Give me the key to my room, innkeeper.”

The man grumbled, reached under the bar and took out two keys.

“I only got two rooms left but they have two beds each.”

Thrandor snatched the key and tossed the money to the innkeeper.

“Marcus, I won’t sleep in the same room as Skip again.” The Tegarian said.

“Well, it is not like he actually slumbers in his own room ever, but I do suppose that when his…ahem…affairs are over he comes back.”

“You have no idea. He talks in his sleep!”

“Oh, dear…fine then. We shall both share a room and our friend Arhyld will share with Skip. Is that alright with you two?”

Marcus glanced over towards Arhyld, but Skip was not with him. Looking through the bar he finally noticed him flirting with a barmaid. Marcus sighed.

“Arhyld, could you perhaps tell Skip of the lodging changes?”

“Sure, Marcus. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Take care around the bar. I would not advise you to stay here for too long.”

Marcus and Thrandor walked up the stairs to the room while Arhyld approached Skip and told him where their room was. Skip raised a tankard of ale and pointed it at Arhyld.

“Dearest Mirinna, this is my brave companion. We triumphed in a few battles already and have only known eachother for a few days. Join us for a drink, my friend.”

Arhyld smiled, noticing how Skip’s manner of speaking changed radically in the presence of women. A tavern wench winked at Arhyld from behind Skip. The boy smiled back and blushed, although such women disgusted him.

“No thank you, Skip. I’m tired and I need my sleep. Enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, you can bet your life and gold on it.” Skip said grinning.”

Arhyld went towards the stairs, already feeling drowsy, but stopped when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to face a man wearing a gleaming chainmail suit of armour. He had dark skin, black hair and eyes and a smile that made Arhyld feel uneasy. He opened his mouth to speak, but the stranger introduced himself.

“I am Syrill from Shal’Kar, boy. I heard you were off to kill the dragon. Give up. My party and me are already doing that and we simply *hate* interruptions.”

“We’re not going there to…” but the man walked away before Arhyld could finish his sentence “…kill. We’re going to investigate.”

The man was probably insane and Arhyld felt too tired to argue with a madman. He just shrugged and went to his room. It was small, dirty and the beds were ragged, but he had expected it. Arhyld sighed and went to bed.