ERIDIAN SAGAS: LEGACY’S SHADOW
PROLOGUE:
“Adventurers will always be needed because the influential and/or powerful never seem to be able to agree or get along for very long.”
Arch-Druid Daniel’s response when asked about
the need for adventurers in times of peace
So the Age of Heroes comes and goes
With many tellings of triumphs and woes
Of evils that came and gained great powers
And the heroes that fought them in darkest hours
Numerous tales of the many that fell
While mastering powers of Heaven or Hell
Or the larger number of those that were slain
While reaching so hard for fortune and fame
Stories of the champions of the vile or just
And those that fell by their weapon’s thrust
Tales of monsters huge and strong
And those that slew them, right or wrong
Legends of the use of magical items and spells
And all is true, so the history books tell
Listen now as we enjoy such a tale
I’ll play my harp as you enjoy your ale
And I’ll tell you a story of legends from this age
Of villains and heroes who help to set today’s stage
CHAPTER 1: BEGINNINGS
Life never gives warning when a day that will change us forever begins. There are plenty of days in our lives that we look forward to. Society gives us plenty of opportunities to plan celebrations and remembrances. Yet, when a day that will mark us permanently begins, it never gives us warning. The day just starts like any other…and ends with our life forever changed.
The trees allowed both plenty of light as well as welcome shade from the hot summer sun overhead as the travelers made their way through the forest near the base of the Crescent Mountains. Their small, covered wagon was pulled by two horses. Driving the cart was Elaina, a human female wearing a yellow shirt and black trousers, her long, dark hair tied up in a ponytail.
Besides the driver, there were also four armed riders on horseback guarding the wagon and its six riders, the guards forming a loose box around the wagon. Floating an arm’s length above the wagon was a dark red flying carpet with golden tassels. From a distance, two humanoids could be seen sitting on top of it, one in red robes and a smaller one in yellow robes.
Despite there being no roadway, it is said that the elves that once dwelt here made the clear pathway they now traveled. It was wide enough that a second wagon could easily pass by, yet the canopy overhead was unbroken. Only the lack of trees gave any indication that it was a path to be traveled on.
“Are you sure there’s no more elves,” Amy, 8 years of age, asked as she climbed out of the wagon. Wearing a light blue dress and leather shoes, she joined her mom in the driver’s seat. Her long, dark hair caught lightly in the breeze as she sat, revealing slightly pointed ears that hinted at her elvish heritage. “This looks like a place they’d still like.”
It was the rider on her left, her Uncle Todd, that answered. He was dressed in simple chainmail and dark leather pants with his sword fastened loosely at his side. Riding his gray warhorse, Stormbreaker, who was also the last horse he rode during his adventuring days. “Quite sure,” he laughed light-heartedly, a hand absent-mindedly petting his horse. “We’ve come this way many times with your parents during their adventuring days. Right, Donald,” he called, addressing his brother, the rider on the right.
Identically dressed except for a giant hammer in place of the sword, he simply responded, “Right.” Ever vigilant, Donald’s eyes never stopped scanning in front of the party. Both had the dark hair and blue eyes that ran heavily in the family. However, where Todd was built more like an athlete, Donald looked every bit like a war soldier or blacksmith. He rode a brown mare he bought just before they had set out, nearly two weeks ago.
Elaina pulled her into a hug and kissed her gently on the head. “Little more lives here now other than plant and animal. Few treat with the Blade and Hammer Clan,” she continued. “so we’re likely not going to run into anyone, even travelers, while we’re here.” Dressed in a yellow shirt and black pants, it was weird for Amy to not see her mom in her usual priestly garb.
“I don’t know,” Amy said skeptically. She looked around as if she half expected to see an elf jump out and prove her right.
“It’s a good thing that few do,” Donald interjected. “It will make it much easier for them to remember if they actually came this way.” They were all hoping that Elaina’s husband had passed this way and they could pick up his trail. He’d been gone too long.
It was then that Joey, Elaina’s next oldest child, poked his head out from the wagon. Wearing a light green shirt and brown shorts, “Why not?” he asked. Only a year older than Amy and with similar ears, the two were both fairly thin and similarly built though his hair was cut short.
“Why not what,” his mother asked.
“Why don’t people like the Blade and Hammer Clan,” he asked as he came more fully out of the wagon. “You and dad like them and they’ve always been helpful in the stories our family tells.”
“Because they’re pricks,” came the reply from the back. Riding a sleek black stallion was Aunt Serane, her bow across her lap and a quiver of arrows on her back with another behind her saddle. Her light green tunic and shorts helped to offset the slight green color that her skin held. Like Elaina’s husband, she was half-elf.
“They’re not pricks,” Elaina was quick to respond. “They just happen to have a more military-minded way of looking at things and dealing with things than most races…even other dwarves.” She leaned conspiratorially toward her children. “This makes them exceeding lt helpful to adventurers.”
“And makes them pricks,” Serane reiterated.
It was about that time that they reached a large clearing in the woods, the canopy opening up to allow the sun to shine fully. A small stream ran through the clearing, coming from the far side and cutting off to the right about halfway through the clearing. This also marked the halfway point to their destination in the mountains, with several more hours riding ahead of them. Well past noon and not wanting to arrive late in the evening, they decided to camp there for the night and continue on in the morning.
They parked the wagon by the elbow of the stream in the center of the clearing. The carpet came to rest just beside the wagon, allowing Elaina’s third eldest, Kary, to come join the others, as well as her teacher, Uncle Kel’scov – Serane’s brother. While he didn’t share his sister’s skin color, his facial features were pointed so much that they could only be elvish in nature. If it wasn’t for his humanly tanned skin, he’d probably be mistaken for one.
“Mommy! Mommy,” Kary exclaimed as she ran up to Elaina, her long, blonde hair and yellow robes trailing behind her. Almost two years older than Joey and the tallest of her children, she was also the only child that held no physical trace of their elvish blood. However, they’d learned quickly that she shared the elves’ strong connection to arcane magic and had to begin her training a year ahead of normal.
“Look what I can do!” Stopping to take a calming breath (and straighten her hair), she began to focus before spreading her hands out slightly in front of her. Slowly, small sparks began to dance between her fingers for a few seconds before stopping. She looked up expectantly at her mother. Again, an exception to the family’s norm, she had green eyes.
“Very impressive!” Elaina said, pulling Kary in for a hug.
“If you want to zap some nearby bugs,” Mickel, Elains’s oldest, said playfully.
Helping to rub down the horses, Mickel was a full year older than Kary. And while Kary may temporarily be taller, he was by far the strongest of her children. Wearing a dark blue tunic and dark shorts, he also had the elvish ears that the younger two had. Though barely taller than the younger two, he had definitely inherited his father’s athletic build and natural talent for both gaining muscle and with a longsword. And, unfortunately, his father’s wit.
He had also inherited his father’s unique eyes. Normally rich brown (almost chocolate) in color, certain emotions caused flecks to appear in his eyes. The stronger the emotion, the more pronounced the flecks became. Happiness caused green flecks to appear. Anger caused black specks to appear. And, since the recent disappearance of his father, they’d discovered sadness causes blue specks to appear.
Given her experience with his father, Elaina suspected other colors would start to emerge, but she decided to keep that to herself and for him to discover.
“Master said I could make someone stop and fall if they touched it,” she explained.
“But you don’t want them that close,” Mickel replied. “You should work on shooting it. Then, at least, it’d be useful to you.”
Kary looked up at her mom, clearly hurt.
“Keep your mind on your work and don’t worry about what the wizards are doing,” Aunt Lola, just a few yards away filling up flasks at the river, scolded. She was armed and armored just like Uncle Todd. She was the fourth of the guards on their trip and it was her mottled warhorse that he was currently working on. Mickel quickly resumed rubbing down the horse while Joey got started on Uncle Donald’s.
“Don’t pay him any heed,” Kel’scov said as he approached Elaina and Kary. “The base four elements are the hardest to manipulate. It’ll be years before we can even begin to focus on those. The fact that you can manipulate even a minor element like lightning at your age is very impressive. Remember, most your age can’t even try to start their training for another year.”
Kel’scov’s compliments did not come quick or easy. His words had an immediate positive effect on Kary. She beamed before running off to show off her new skill to the rest of the party.
“Thank you again for coming, Kel,” Elaina said.
“Thank you for the great pupil, El,” he replied. “It’s rare, even for half-elves, to show this much promise at such a young age. And she’s not even fully half,” he laughed, referring to her being the child of a half-elf. “Besides, how could I turn down anyone from my old adventuring party?”
The two shared a hug before looking understandingly at eachother and then resuming helping settle everyone and everything in for the evening. Elaina switched into her priestly robes, white robes with a pink heart, an oaken staff diagonally in the middle of it, centered on the back. The robes were trimmed in red. The symbol on the back was the holy symbol for her goddess, Mishra, goddess of healing and protection. It was well known that Elaina had become one of her most powerful priestesses.
“Boys!” Donald called out. “If you two finish up early enough, want to get in some sword practice with your uncles before the sun goes down?”
Mickel and Joey seemed to start moving at double speed. Donald winked at Elaina as they shared a smile. Donald and Todd got to work on sharpening everybody’s weapons while Elaina and her daughters began clearing a cooking spot and getting the cauldron, dishes and utensils out of the wagon.
After a couple of hours of chores, the party settled into the more enjoyable activities of the evening’s. Donald and Todd had pulled out the practice swords and were as much teaching as playing with Mickel and Joey. Kel’Scov allowed Kary to join him as he went through his spells book and practiced and worked on memorizing the motions and incantations needed for their casting. Amy and Lola helped Serane prep the evening’s meal while Elaina said her daily prayers. Afterward, she pulled out her religious books to study…and Amy ran over to join her.
“Could you explain to me again why you wear the wrong robes,” Amy asked as she quickly sat down beside her. The adults shared a quiet laugh. This was hardly the first time Amy had wondered about her mom’s “wrong robes”. “Silver priests wear silver robes,” she continued, not waiting for a response, “and these,” she continued as she light touched the trim on mom’s sleeve, “are rainbow colored.”
“You are right,” Elaina began patiently, closing her book and setting it aside. “Silver priests wear silver robes and your mom is a silver priestess.” Ever a teacher, Elaina looked at Amy and asked, “What do you remember about the gods and their priests?”
Amy smiled confidently. “There are three groups of gods, each with five deities within them,” she began. “Priests worship a group of gods collectively, praying to whichever one is most appropriate at the time but also always to the heads of each group.”
“What else,” Elaina said encouragingly when Amy paused.
“The gods are divided into good gods, neutral gods and evil gods,” Amy responded. “The good gods are ruled over by Azmon and are called silver priests. The neutral gods are ruled by Staryn and are called copper priests. And the evil gods are ruled over by Scyreth and are called obsidian priests. Each set of priests wears robes that match the color of their name, both to show their faith in their gods and to please them by wearing the colors that they like.” As she finished, she looked at her mom’s robes questioningly again.
“Very good,” Elaina replied obviously impressed. “Now, to answer your question. Within these groups are much smaller numbers of priests who have taken vows showing they favor one of the deities in the group before all the others.”
“Even over the head god,” Amy asked incredulously.
“Even over the head god,” Eleana confirmed.
“Don’t the other gods get upset,” Amy asked.
“Rarely,” Elaina replied. “Usually, what that god or goddess represents and what the priest wishes to be like is simply much closer to a certain one rather than to any of the others. Since there are mortals like that for each of them, they each allow for the others to have theirs. For me, I wanted to protect people and take care of them. This is exactly what Mishra represents. So, I am a silver priestess but I am also a cleric of Mishra. To show that distinction, I wear these robes, those pleasing to her, instead of the silver ones. Do you understand?”
“Not really, but I guess,” Amy answered, sounding confused. “I mean, dad would have never been ok with us listening to you and not him.”
Lola let out a laugh at that comparison. “You’re right,” she said as she chopped up some herbs. “Though I would have loved to see the expression on his face if one of you had tried it.” She laughed again.
“Here,” Elaina said as she handed Amy one of her books after first flipping to a section towards the front of it. “See if this helps.”
Amy eagerly took book and began reading. Elaina looked at her approvingly before grabbing the book she’d set down and resumed her studies.
By the time evening approached, Kel’Scov had finished and he and Kary joined in helping to get dinner cooked. Shortly after that happened, Uncle Todd took the kids into the forest to gather herbs for dinner. Lola set the dining area as Kel’scov and Serane finished cooking a great dinner out of the rabbits that Serane had managed to catch and the herbs that Uncle Todd and the kids had managed to gather.
“Remember,” Serane had said when the kids questioned what they would find, “if elves have lived there, the herbs you need will always be there as well.” She was right.
After dinner, Uncle Donald and Aunt Lola retired to their tent. Serane and Kel’scov each went to their tents shortly after.
Uncle Todd and Elaina stayed up with the kids, telling them stories of their adventures, until they, too were tired. Then, after saying their prayers with Elaina, they and the kids jumped into the wagon for a peaceful night’s sleep.
Or so they thought…
Elaina woke with a start and sat up. As she looked around, the evening sky was clear, the stars shone brightly and the full moon illuminated the quiet clearing well despite the late hour. Yet she could not shake this feeling of something being wrong.
Gently, she unentangled herself from Amy as she climbed quietly out of the wagon and started looking around. She was about to pass it off as maybe a bad dream, but then Donald burst out of his tent, sword in hand. They looked at eachother as confirmation of what they were both clearly feeling.
“Wake Lola while I wake Serane,” she said quietly to him. He nodded and turned back into his tent while she went to wake their scout.
“Serane,” she called quietly once she was standing outside of her tent. “Serane?”
Serane opened her flap, dagger in hand. She looked questioningly at Elaina.
“Something’s wrong,” was all she had to say to make Serane go into her tent and return shortly with both her daggers at her hip and her bow and arrows at the ready. Without saying a word, she ran off into the darkness.
Donald and Lola had just emerged from their tent, fully armed and armored, and Elaina was almost to Kel’scov’s tent to wake him when a flaming arrow pierced the night sky – Serane’s warning of an imminent attack.
Her old adventuring habits kicking in, before the arrow had even started its downward decent, Elaina quickly cast a spell causing a warning bell to sound in the clearing. Kel’scov came out of his tent, wand drawn. Todd woke up and assumed a defensive stance in the wagon, his sword in hand. As rehearsed, the kids quickly rolled out of the wagon and climbed underneath it.
No sooner had they made it under the wagon then Serane burst from the woods yelling, “Arrows!”
Everyone gathered around the wagon while Kel’scov placed a protective shield above it. Serane made it just in time before numerous arrows came thudding into the barrier as well as landing all throughout the clearing.
As all eyes turned to her, Serane explained, “Goblins, gnolls and ogres – lots of ‘em.”
As if to confirm what she’d said, hordes of goblins began bursting from the woods into the clearing, each armed with a club, sword, or hook. None of them wore any armor.
Just under four feet in height with dark green skin and long, pointed ears, goblins relied just as much on their number as their weapons to win fights. Neither very strong nor smart, their tactics were always straightforward as they charged and swung.
And today, they were challenging experienced adventurers with magical items to use.
Todd, Donald and Lola each took a side of the wagon with Kel’Scov using his magic to defend the fourth.
First thing Serane did was pull out a magical statuette of an elvish archer. Spectral archers, three to a side, suddenly appeared standing near her, and began to unleash their arrows in a never-ending wave of death.
Elaina also quickly pulled out a statuette of a soldier with a shield and activated it. On each side of each of their swordsmen (Todd, Donald and Lola), a spectral female soldier with a spear and shield appeared. These both guarded and attacked with their respective swordsman. Like all clerics of Mishra, Elaina was forbidden from personally shedding blood unless as a last resort, yet the healing and protective spells she provided made all the difference in keeping her companions energized, healed, and lethal in their actions.
With their spectral guardians, the warriors each seemed to become a wall of blades as each expertly defended their side. Each one had a belt full of flasks that, if hurled, detonated in a fiery explosion that consumed all in a 20’ radius. While each opened with one, they seemed to be conserving them for the future opponents they were warned of.
Those unfortunate goblins who found themselves on Kel’scov’s side found themselves being turned to ash, roasted, or frozen solid as he unleashed gouts of flames or electricity from his hands or hail and cones of cold from his wand.
This went on for a few minutes – the goblins seeming to never end while the ability of the defenders to slay them never seemed to waiver. Then the waves turned into waves of gnolls with random ogres with them.
Over six feet tall and almost as strong as an ogre, gnolls are considered to be one of, if not the strongest, of the goblinoid races. Appearing as hyena-headed humans, each were wearing chainmail and carrying swords, maces, or spears. What they lack in discipline they make up for in cunning and individual fighting prowess.
Appearing as nine feet tall, heavily muscled humans, ogres often worked with goblinoids, especially gnolls whom they consider to be cousins of their race. Fortunately, being none too bright, their fighting prowess is on par with goblins – just a lot deadlier because of their size and strength.
The last of the flasks were quickly used against these new opponents. Sadly, Serane’s statuette had run its course and no longer functioned.
As the unending stream of enemies continued to pour into the clearing, the battle turned against the small group. Ogres had managed to kill half of the phantom maidens helping the swordmen out. Kel’scov and Elaina were quickly running out of spells and their party was starting to tire. Elaina then heard a small rally begin and her heart about stopped when she saw why - the children had joined the fray.
Each child had taken a separate side. Josh and Joey, each wielding swords, had come to the defense of their Aunt Lola and Uncle Donald. Amy had grabbed a small dagger and was taking any opportunity to stab anyone near the spectral warrior near Uncle Todd that she was trying to also hide behind. Kary had joined Kel’scov and was using her sparks to shock and numb any opponent that came near them. Sadly, the rally ended almost as soon as it started.
Elaina had barely realized the children’s actions when a large spear suddenly skewered Serane beside her. Hurled with such force, it kept flying into the woods on the other side of the clearing, taking her body with it. Elaina then heard the cries of her party as gnoll weaponry began finding their marks.
It seemed as if time was slowing down, allowing her to sense every excruciating moment. She seemed to feel Todd getting stabbed in the shoulder at the same time as she felt Lola being struck in the head with a mace and Donald being sliced in the leg by a dagger. She truly felt horror then as the head of Kel’scov land near her. Looking over, she saw Kary couched on the ground in fear as an ogre prepared to bring its club down on her. Unable to bear seeing the death of one of her children, she called out to Mishra for help to save them.
Mishra answered.
“This may consume you, my daughter,” Elaina heard in her head.
“I accept,” she swiftly answered.
Elaina suddenly burst into flames, turning to ash all opponents in the clearing in the blink of an eye. More still poured from the forest to take their place. None of them realized the imminent death that was now upon them.
The flames consumed Elaina and folded in on themselves before bursting forth as she finished her transformation into a massive phoenix. The flames shot forth from her for miles, scorching any ogre, gnoll or goblin and turning them into ash. Yet the forest remained undamaged and unchanged except that those seeing it from above from then on saw that the clearing was shaped like a phoenix with its wings spread.
Each of the children was placed in a protective sphere of light. They then heard an unfamiliar yet comforting voice say, “You will be hunted after this. I will take you to safety.”
Then, only divine eyes saw four globes rise, separate and fly from the clearing. To all others, it seemed like a massive fireball had erupted in the forest, caused no damage, then allowed the quiet night to resume.
And all but one would miss the two black forms that quietly entered the forest afterwards.
**************
As he watched them enter the forest through the Looking Tube, fear was rapidly replaced with outrage.
She knew! She waited and sacrificed all the rest! Who does she think she is?! Sacrificing his king and their entire horde! How dare she! These were his only thoughts, running over and over again, as he made his way through the night. Running as fast as he could, away from the fires and the death forest.
Gluk’gluk realized he was the last of the great Clan Battle Pots – mightiest of the goblin tribes for almost three months! Now, all were in ashes but him. It had only been his job as tribe treasure guarder that had kept him just outside of the flames.
Fear and anger finally gave way to exhaustion and despair, as he slowed down and finally stopped to catch his breath. Turning, he looked back towards the forest. Anger returned.
He knew he was no match for her – could never hope to avenge his king. Clan Battle Pots had been destined to be remembered, with every member being strong and rich! His king had promised. Now, they were all ash and already forgotten. All but Gluk’gluk.
He sat down, anger slowly turning to determination. He put his head in his palm as he tried to think. His king had been good at that.
Then he remembered.
The map! The cavern! The surface wasn’t the only place with its champions - champions like her. No! The dark places beneath had their champions, too. And some even she was fearful of! That’s who he needed!
Cursing how far he’d run, Gluk’gluk made his way back to his post. It was almost time for the cursed flame ball to rise in the sky by the time he made it back. He quickly went to where the tribe’s wealth had been stacked. Luckily, it was still there, untouched. He began his search immediately.
He quickly found what he sought – an old map showing the way to a nearby cave and its depths. With far too much there for him carry, he took a handful of coins, a pouchful of gems, a sword that looked better than his, and the Talkee Helmet, a simple horned, silver helmet which would allow him to talk to any creature he wanted to. Afterall, as the only surviving member, that made him chief and able to claim these things, right? He thought so.
Map clutched tightly in hand, Gluk’gluk made his way north. He would find his revenge!
**************
As the fires consumed the attackers…
Even as this dream began, Whitney immediately knew it for the reality it was. Only once before in her 64 years of life had she been blessed to walk this grassy plain on what felt like a perfect spring day.
The sun shone brightly overhead yet the temperature felt perfectly comfortable. A slight breeze blew across the plains, seemingly to spread the perfect temperature instead of adding a coolness to it. The grass was soft on her bare feet as she continued to walk, pulled by instinct she had long learned to trust in these situations.
She still appeared as she looked in the waking world. Her weathered, tanned skin still reflected her age. Her long, blonde hair trailing behind her in the breeze still had streaks of gray in it. Tall by human standards yet with a grace and beauty about her that, even today, made most goodly beings feel at ease and trusting of her. This had particularly served her well as she had ascended the ranks to become the reigning high priestess.
From her past experience, she knew that this was where she was at – in the lands of her goddess somewhere in the Heavens. Thus, she was not surprised that she was dressed in her priestly robes - white robes with a pink heart, an oaken staff diagonally in the middle of it, centered on the back. The robes were trimmed in red. Rest Bringer, her powerful mace from her adventuring days, hung at her side.
Then she saw her.
Sitting on a golden throne, was a beautiful, middle-aged human female with soft, white skin and blue eyes. She knew well that standing, she would be just under five and a half feet tall. Her soft brown hair came down to her mid-back and, as always, was worn loose. She, too, wore the same robe as well as a pair of soft leather shoes. Her white, oaken staff lay casually against the throne beside her.
Whitney had dedicated her life to her. She had prayed many times to her. She would recognize this lady anywhere. It was her goddess, Mishra, goddess of healing and protection.
Still not believing herself worthy, she ran and knelt before her immediately.
“My Great Lady,” was all she could get out passed the lump in her throat.
Mishra rose and walked over to her, placing a gentle hand on head.
“Rise my daughter. We have tidings to discuss.”
As Whitney rose, Mishra began walking and the two enjoyed a leisurely pace as they talked.
“High Priestess Elaina has fallen,” Mishra began.
Whitney couldn’t believe her ears. Elaina was a living legend and belonged to a family of such. With as peaceful as the world seemed, it was hard to believe that anything could be happening to endanger, much less fell, her.
“Her body and gear are beyond recovery,” Mishra continued. “Please do not waste any lives on any attempt to do so.”
“Of course,” Whitney replied. “I will still be sure that we hold a vigil for her appropriate to all that she had accomplished in her life.”
Mishra simply nodded her consent before resuming. “Her children are in peril. As part of the promise I made to her, I have separated them. Each has been delivered safely to a trusted caregiver. Until further notice, which will be years in the making, I need you to choose a small number of my daughters and have them help to watch over them. How much each knows is up to you, but the more who know who they are and what we’re doing, the more likely unwanted attention will be brought to them. Please try to avoid this at all costs.”
“As you wish.”
They stopped walking and Mishra turned to face her directly.
“Unless an outside threat is discovered, we are not to interfere unless necessary – just be ready to help if needed. The children must still be allowed to follow whatever paths they choose. They must also not seek each other out until I have given them permission to do so. This is to be explained to the caregivers so that they may keep them in check without us revealing our involvement to anyone paying attention.”
“I will make sure that it happens as you have instructed.”
“I know you will, my daughter.”
Whitney was truly honored when Mishra then pulled her into a hug. They stood like that for a moment before Mishra held her at arm’s length. “You are the greatest of my priesthood for good reason and I am very proud of you.”
Whitney was so touched at these words that a small tear escaped her eyes.
“You have work to do. Kneel.”
Whitney knelt before her. Mishra placed her hands gently on her shoulders.
“It is time for you to wake.”
Whitney woke in her bed with a start, every moment of her visit with her goddess still fresh in her mind. Lifting a hand, she gently brushed the tear still fresh on her cheek. She got out of bed, knelt beside it and began to pray.
“Thank you, my goddess. I promise, I will make sure we follow your plans as guided.”
She then rose, still in her nightgown, and went to her closet. She noticed that the sun rays were just starting to come in through the window. Opening her closet, she quickly reached for her clerical robes and prepared to change.
Her goddess had spoken. She had work to do.
*******************
While Whitney spoke with her goddess…
He awoke with a start, a feeling of something being terribly wrong clinging strongly to him.
Justin ran his hand through his short, blonde hair before rolling quietly out of the furs he’d been sleeping and, grabbing his war hammer in both hands mid-roll, assumed a defensive stance. Caring little that all he wore was a simple loin cloth, he kept his breathing soft and steady as he assessed his surroundings, searching for the cause of the feeling that surely had woken him.
Though his tent shook from the raging storm outside, inside all seemed quiet. The lantern he’d lit before laying down was almost out of oil, but the low light was plenty for him to see with. The flap was still shut and securely in place. The small cooking pit in the center held only the ashes from his dinner fire, the pot and utensils he’d used stacked neatly beside it. Beside the furs he used for his bed, all his clothes were stacked neatly, appearing as untouched as when he fell asleep.
Most importantly, all of his smithing tools were still in place. His anvil sat, ready for tomorrow’s use, against a tent wall. His hammer, tongs and other tools rested in a metal barrel beside it. Four buckets that also served as chairs when needed remained stacked next to the barrel, undisturbed. Even the stack of flint and tinder and cans of lantern oil seemed untouched and how he’d left it.
Convinced that the danger was not inside his tent, he quickly walked over toward the flap. Even out of armor, the 22 years Justin had spent as a blacksmith had given him the kind of body most warriors dreamed of. Even though he was just over forty years old, his broad shoulders, powerful arms and heavily muscled chest and back, caused most to find him very intimidating. And, though very few knew it, he came from a family of adventurers and had been trained to use all manner of weapons effectively – including the war hammer.
Remembering that rumors persisted of bandits operating in the area that were taking slaves, Justin steadied himself and threw open the flap, expecting combat. Instead, he came face to face with wounded twelve-year-old boy in tattered clothing, crying uncontrollably and shivering from the storm. He still held a bloodied short sword limply in his hand.
Shocked, Justin recognized him immediately.
“Mickel!” He quickly dropped his war hammer and pulled his nephew into his tent. Giving a quick look out into the night, seeing the small town he’d set up near still sleeping quietly in the storm, he closed the flap and turned inside.
“Uncle!” was all the warning he got before Mickel, having dropped the sword inside the tent, flung himself into Justin, holding on to him as if for life. Justin held him tightly for a moment, trying to reassure him that he was alright now. They stood like that for a moment, then Justin, feeling a gash on Mickel’s back and with the scent of blood in the air, was reminded that there were more pressing needs.
“Stand here,” he said gently yet firmly as he picked up and placed Mickel by the cooking pit. Mickel simply nodded.
He went to where his tools were and pulled out a bucket and a handful of rags. The rags he threw over his shoulder. He had just carried the bucket to the flap and had opened it when he heard Mickel.
“Wait! No,” he almost whimpered, reaching out as if to stop him. Even as he spoke, he watched as Justin simply placed the bucket in the storm before turning back inside - he wasn’t leaving.
“I promise, I’m not going to leave you,” Justin said reassuringly. He then went and added more oil to his lantern and turned the flame up, fully illuminating the inside of the tent. He grabbed a second bucket before retrieving the first one, replacing it with the second one, and then carried it over to where Mickel was standing. Placing the bucket beside him and dropping the rags beside it, Justin knelt in front of Mickel.
Mickel quickly wrapped himself around Justin again. Though still crying, he was more in control than he had been when he first arrived.
Justin held him for a moment then put him back out in front of him. Looking him in the eyes, he said, “I need to look over you to make sure you’re ok. Ok?”
Mickel nodded.
Justin carefully removed what was left of a blue tunic from Mickel and, using the rags with the water the storm had provided, he began cleaning the wounds on him. He was grateful that outside of the gash on his back and a small stab wound on his left leg, it was all minor cuts and scrapes. Even those two wounds weren’t deep or bad enough to cause alarm.
He also noted that not all the blood on him was his – it was too dark to be human.
There was enough blood that he had to throw out the water from the first bucket and use the water from the second. Thankfully, he didn’t have to get a refill on the first.
A million questions danced in Justin’s head, but it was obvious that Mickel was in no state for answering anything. So, when he was done cleaning all of the blood off of him and making sure all of his wounds were taken care of, he said, “There. Finished.”
As expected, Mickel quickly wrapped himself around him again. This time, Justin held him tight as he stood up and carried him over to the furs. As he sat down, Mickel curled up in his lap just like he had done when he was younger, and Justin held him as Mickel quietly cried himself to sleep.
Justin hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep himself until he slowly woke up in his furs, Mickel still asleep beside him. He gently kissed his nephew on the top of his head before carefully getting up, making sure not to wake him.
Judging from the stillness of his tent, it seemed as though the storm had subsided. He pulled on a pair of black shorts and a dark yellow vest. Checking once more to make sure Mickel was still asleep, he slipped out of his tent.
The morning sun was already approaching midpoint, which told him how long they’d slept in. The earth was still damp from the evening’s storm. The noises coming from the town told him that it was alive and bustling with the day’s activities.
He was still contemplating how to start his day when he saw three ladies in white robes trimmed in red approaching.
******************
Elsewhere that morning, far north of Justin…
Eric “the Brutal” and his band of mercenaries, The Darkriders, gathered a few miles from their chosen target. All 37 of them were on black warhorses and armed with swords and throwing daggers. Each wore black leather armor and all sported scars that spoke of the numerous battles they had survived. His men loved the action and money that Eric always seemed to find. Eric was proud of the menacing way his band looked and their unwavering obedience.
Though he looked like a massive human, almost six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and thick muscles, he was in truth an orog (or half-ogre as some called them). This almost always guaranteed that he was both the largest and strongest person in the room. His black skin and white eyes caused many to speculate that he was of fiendish descent. His dark green hair was kept short, having had it pulled too many times during combat.
He knew and cared not why she suddenly needed slaves. All he cared about was that she was paying him well to be successful. One thing Eric had proven over years is that he’s good at being successful.
With luck, this would last for a few years, allowing him the time and money needed to accomplish his goals.
He raised his sword in the air and made a downward cutting motion, causing his horse to dash toward the unsuspecting farming village. His men joined him almost immediately, eager for the coming action. They were too far north of the City of Akord, ruled by King William and whose domain the village was in, for any help to arrive before it was too late.
CHAPTER 2: TO BEGIN TRAINING
“We have arrived,” Curate Nancy announced matter-of-factly, gesturing with her hand as Mickel joined her on the top of the hill. They had been riding for almost three weeks and had changed horses six times to keep the timeframe that she had said they would need to if they were to make it here in time. They had ridden through the last of the summer rains and the weather was just starting to cool as summer was giving way to autumn. The silver cleric, dressed in her priestly garments for the final leg of their trip, sat on the brown horse she now rode and waited patiently for him on his gray mare to join her so he could get his first glimpse of a major city – Rapid City.
In the early morning sun, he was shocked at how huge it was, both the massive size of the walled city and the numerous boats already coming and going in its expansive port. Mickel had only seen as many as three ships together at one time while his family had ridden near the shoreline many years ago. He could make out at least 30 larger vessels between those docked and those coming and going. Dancing among those were numerous smaller vessels. Just as surprising were all the different flags they all flew – like each boat belonged to a different country. Some sported as many as three different flags. There were so many designs on a wide variety of colors, he wondered how any could keep up with what they all meant.
Then there was the city itself. It seemed to sprawl on forever along the coast and for many miles inland. It seemed like all the streets were packed with people already going about their day. He had never seen so many people in one place! From this distance, it was clear that the city was made up of three distinct, almost circular areas outside of the docks.
At its center was Pearl Castle. Even at this distance he could see its white walls and spires almost glistening in the sun. Atop its towers flew a blue flag with a circle of gold coins with a hawk in flight in the center of the circle. This was the standard of King Johnny I, the current king of Rapid City. Surrounding Pearl Castle were many large, gated areas, each with a smaller castle of stone within it. From the many questions he asked every night, he knew that these were the homes of the nobles and prominent merchants, their families and those that tended to them.
Beyond the gated communities was the second area. Here stood numerous buildings of various makes and sizes – the Trade Land. Here were the businesses of the city – from shops, to restaurants, to vendors to inns. Everything the businesses needed and all those who did business with them would be within the Trade Land. Then came the housing centers for the city’s more lucrative citizens. Those living near the Trade Land lived in stone houses painted green that were stacked three high and four long. Nancy said stone steps inside provided those on top access to their homes from below. On one side, the Trade Land butted up against the docks.
Just as numerous as the businesses and stone homes put together were the wooden homes with straw roofs that made up the third area. These were stacked three high and six wide with wooden steps and ladders on the outside allowed those living on the upper homes to reach them.
Surrounding all of this was a 150-ft tall gray stone wall. Every fifty feet there was a heavily guarded entrance into the city with at least ten city guards. Each carried a large, metallic shield on their back and wore shining platemail armor. The royal symbol was emblazoned on both the chest piece of the armor and the shield. They were also armed with swords, though most kept them sheathed as they watched the masses as they came and went. Archers also watched from the top of the wall. Mickel could also make out random magic-users walking along the top of the wall as well, obviously there to help the city guards.
He marveled at it all for a moment before Nancy, having put on her silver holy symbol (the five-pointed star of the goodly gods), started heading toward the city. Mickel, also wearing a silver robe so he would appear as her apprentice, followed.
Mickel expected that the guards would give them trouble when they approached. Every time he and his uncle had approached a guarded town entrance, they were always stopped and questioned. To his surprise, Nancy simply nodded at the guards. They gave her a curt wave to keep moving and, just like that, they were in the city.
“Just stay close and keep up,” Nancy said as they started to make their way through the crowded streets. He wasn’t sure if the increase in the heat was from the late morning sun or the sudden increase in bodies around them.
Nancy kept them at a brisk pace and Mickel quickly realized that anyone on a horse or in a buggy was also moving at similar speeds. The crowds, sparse at first but steadily increasing as they made their way further into the city, mostly kept to the sides of the cobble roads that crisscrossed the city. Those that did cross them did so quickly. Nancy kept them moving smoothly through the city and seemed to know exactly where to go despite the complete lack of markers from what Mickel could make out.
Mickel had suspected that the area with wooden homes would be where all the poor people were, with the population showing their greater wealth as they moved towards the castle. He was quite shocked to see a wide variety of wealth in each area, though he didn’t think most would notice. His parents had taught him to pay close attention and look for signs of physical abuse, training and/or education to assess a person’s social status. But during his six months with his uncle, he had been taught how to look more closely at the items on a person as much as the person.
As they entered the wooden homes area, everyone out seemed to be trying not to notice anyone else as they went about their business. As expected, everyone was dressed simply and practically - wool pants, cloth shirts or vests, all of dark colors (since those are the cheapest), with an occasional plain cloak here and there. Despite this, he spotted discreet signs of wealth on every third or fourth person he saw. He noticed a woman and her two young children who seemed to be using wool cloaks to cover their silk shirts as they made their way inside a home. An elderly man in tattered robes walking down the street using a wooden staff – his hand almost perfectly covering the band of gold on the staff. A trio of young men in plain vests and tattered shorts also wearing high quality leather boots.
It was as if people wanted to show some sign of prosperity without drawing attention to it or hide it. Even as the wooden homes gave way to the stone ones, it seemed to stay that way. This confused him. Either you wanted people to know so you should flaunt it or you didn’t want them to know so you should leave those things at home, right? He wanted to ask Nancy about this odd behavior but she had warned him against any conversation until they had arrived at the castle. Indeed, she barely even seemed to look back at him at all now that they were here.
Then they went through the gate marking the Trade Land and everything changed.
Here people wore station and wealth openly. From the simple clothes of the stand workers and dock hands to the higher quality and more fanciful designs on the clothing and jewelry marking the successful shop owners and businessmen, to the suits and dresses and expensive jewelry of the elite and their servants. Craftsmen wore both the clothing of their craft and pins or talismans that identified their guild. Even adventuring groups wore matching clothing/equipment. From servants to guardsmen, locals to foreigners, halflings to elves – all wore wealth and station openly. It was as if everyone here wanted everyone else to acknowledge them for who they were and/or what they did.
The most surprising thing about the Trade Land to him was the wide variety of races present. Eridia almost always seemed to be divided between the races and Mickel had seen and heard about how each defended their territories, crafts, and secrets from one another. Yet here they were mingling and doing business with each other as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He saw elvish sailors buying gnomish jewelry, halflings bartering food and ale with dwarves for equipment, and half-orcs and gnomes swapping mining tools for gem-crafting ones – all without anyone acting as if it were anything but normal. Even most of the adventuring groups seemed comprised of a variety of races.
It made him feel prouder of his mixed heritage (almost always a source of harassment and bitterness from others) seeing elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings and even half-orcs all doing business with each other. He wished he could have seen this when he was younger so he could have shared his parents’ belief in a world where all lived together peacefully and enjoyed each other while his parents were still alive.
Once again, Nancy made their way through Trade Land as swiftly as possible and as expertly as if she were a local. Mickel was starting to wonder if she actually was despite her claim to the contrary. The sun was almost at its full height by the time they made their way out of the Trade Land and were walking up to the palace. As they approached, Nancy had him get off of his horse. She did, as well, and they walked their horses up to the castle gates. Since leaving the Trade Land the crowd has seemed to almost disappear. Approaching the castle gate, it was just them and the four guards.
“Hail Silver Lady,” one of them said warmly as he stepped away from the others and approached them. “What business do you have with Pearl Castle?”
“Greetings and well met, great guardian of the watch,” Nancy replied, giving a small bow. “I’m escorting a new recruit for your martial training,” she explained as she reached into her robes and produced a rolled-up scroll that was tied with a golden cord and handed it to him. It was sealed with a wax seal bearing Mishra’s holy symbol. “And this is for your king.”
“Not one for the religious life anymore, eh?” he said lightly to Mickel as he took the scroll, waving with his hand for one of the other guards to join him.
Not knowing how to answer, Mickel just stayed silent.
The guard laughed warmheartedly before suddenly seeming formal as he turned to the other guard. “Take this to his majesty,” he said, handing him the scroll. The other guard gave a short bow as he took the scroll and headed inside. The first guard then turned back to Nancy. “You’d better hurry,” he said. “It should be starting soon and the teachers are not known for their understanding of lateness.”
“Thank you,” Nancy replied. The guard then gave them simple directions to the training grounds and they hurried on their way.
As they neared the grounds, Nancy found an empty hallway and helped him to quickly take off his robe, revealing the simple leather vest and shorts he was wearing underneath it. As she quickly rolled up the robe and tucked it into her robes, she leaned towards him and began to whisper.
“Remember, from this point forward you are…” she said, looking at him pointedly.
“I am Steve, son of Byers,” he replied, whispering now as well.
“And you are from…”
“A family of farmers and blacksmiths from the outer towns,” he replied readily, having had this information drilled into him every night and most meals since their ride had begun. The clergy of Mishra had decided that an alias would be safer for him than his true identity until they new it was safe for him. His uncle had agreed.
She nodded approvingly at him and was about to keep going but then two serving ladies carrying an empty try and several empty mugs entered the hallway from another adjoining hallway. She glared at them, though neither noticed, before pushing him lightly and they resumed their course. A couple more turns and then they entered the large training grounds.
The training grounds themselves were large – over a hundred yards long and fifty yards wide. It was surrounded by castle walls on all four sides but the top was open to the sky. Appearing as a large grass plain, it could only be accessed by two large archways. One was at the northern end and the other at the southern end. Each arch was at the center of a hallway that joined the training grounds with the rest of the castle. On the left side, about half-way down on the left edge were three small buildings. All along the edge leading up to these were rows upon rows of weapons racks, half metal and half wooden. Mickel quickly realized that the metal racks sported the same weapons as those that the wooden one before it held.
As they arrived, a large number of kids were finishing quickly assembling into lines while three men and two ladies watched. The kids were all in simple shorts and leathers like Mickel. Like the city, they were of a wide array of races. There were almost twice as many humans as any of the other races, but there were a handful of gnomes and almost an equal number of halflings. And while there were no dwarves, elves or orcs (or other goblinoids), their were numerous half-orcs and half-elves present.
The watchers were similarly dressed as the kids though each also had a sword hanging from their belts. All of the watchers had physiques that only came from a life of martial prowess, and all were heavily tanned as if they’d spent a lifetime outside. While the male ones were all human, the two females were clearly half-elves – their sharp features and pointed ears clearly marking them for what they were.
Mickel assumed that the watchers were the instructors. As they approached them, it became obvious to him that the kids had formed lines according to race and sex.
As if noticing them at the same time, everyone turned and silently watched them approach.
When they were about twenty yards from those assembled, Nancy called out. “I have one more for you,” she announced formally as they crossed the last distance to the teachers.
“You are late, Silver Lady,” the male closest to them answered. Though physically the smallest of the three men, he was no less intimidating. His short, black hair and dark eyes only seemed to enhance this. His tone held no sign of wanting or caring about any explanations.
“By law,” the male furthest from them began, “he must wait until next year to begin.” This one had shoulder-length red hair and dark eyes. The tallest and the largest of those adults gathered, his tone also held a tone of not wanting or caring about any rationales.
The instructors turned towards the students as if everything was settled. They were about to find out otherwise.
“I said I have one more for you and one more you shall have.” She spoke with absolute authority and finality that Mickel couldn’t imagine anyone arguing with her. Much to his surprise, the teachers all seemed amused rather than worried about her statement.
This seemed to also spark whispers to begin from within the student ranks – that were quickly cut off by a simple raised eyebrow from the center male teacher.
“We don’t mean any disrespect,” the closest female responded, “but our laws are absolute in this matter.” She had long, brown hair that came down to her middle of her back and was almost as muscular as the males. At least her tone and blue eyes seemed more understanding than the two who had spoken so far. “As Master Kirith said, it is law. We would respect your laws in your church - you must respect ours here.”
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” Nancy said, “but we have ridden too far and too hard for a couple of minutes to be the difference between now and a year from now.”
“I don’t care if you rode a hundred leagues in two days to reach here,” the first male who spoke responded. “You were not here on time so now you must wait,” he all but sneered at Nancy.
“There’s no need to be rude, Master Ralph,” the second female, almost a twin of the first one but with green eyes, said.
Master Ralph looked like he was about to start arguing with the second lady when the man in the middle, who had said nothing so far spoke.
“Enough,” he said simply, though from the reactions of the other teachers this seemed to hold a tone of finality that none would challenge. His shoulder-length brown hair was worn loose and had streaks of gray in it. It was his brown eyes that stood out about him to Mickel. They seemed to hold a lifetime of experience and knowledge in them. While neither the tallest nor largest of the teachers gathered, the air of authority around him was almost palpable and he had the voice of one used to being obeyed.
He addressed Nancy directly. “The rules are the rules, Silver Lady. If we didn’t enforce them on everyone, then they would mean nothing. I am sorry, but your boy will have to wait.”
“Please, Master Marek,” Nancy began, but then a young messenger came running in with a scroll and presented it Marek before dashing off again. As he opened it up and read it, Mickel heard a sigh of relief come from Nancy. “Finally,” he heard her whisper to herself as she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
He rolled it back up and handed it to Master Ralph. “It appears we have one more this year,” he said simply.
The teachers took turns looking it over before turning a curious eye on the two. The other male teachers looked almost suspiciously at them.
“What is your name,” Marek asked, addressing Mickel for the first time.
“I am Steve, son of Byers,” he responded a lot more cooly than he felt.
“Welcome to Pearl Castle and to warrior’s training. Please join the other half-elf males in line.”
With one last look of thanks to Nancy, he ran to join his classmates.
CHAPTER 3: TRAINING BEGINS
He quickly made his way towards the other male half-elf children there. By the time he’d found his way to the end of the line and turned to face their teachers, Nancy was already gone. The teachers each pulled a scroll from their belts before they addressed the class.
“Greetings,” Master Marek addressed everyone there. “Now that you are all properly separated, let me welcome you to Pearl Castle’s warrior training.”
The children gave a quick applause before Master Marek held up his hand. Silence quickly followed.
“I am Master Marek and I am in charge of the training program. You will train here for three of the four seasons every year for the next six years. During the hot season, you will be given time to visit with your friends and family and allow your bodies a much needed rest. You will be expected to report back here before the cooling season sets in or you will be terminated from the program – never to be allowed back in.” He looked over the assembled students to give his words a moment to sink in before starting up again.
“While you are training, the girls will live in the barracks furthest north of here,” he said, pointing to the three buildings. “Boys, you will be divided between the remaining two. We will assign you which one you will belong to for that year. Before anyone asks, yes – they are all identical. While here, you are expected to stay on the training grounds at all times unless given permission from one of us to leave. Meals will be brought to us.” Again he paused as the class digested what had been said.
“Finally, you WILL NOT leave the castle grounds for ANY reason or you will not be allowed back onto the grounds and you can go find your new life somewhere else. Are we clear?”
“Yes!” the students answered as one.
Master Ralph stepped forward. “I am Master Ralph and I am in charge of your weapons training. Let us be clear,” Master Ralph began. “Most of you will not make it. There are 301 of you. If we’re lucky, a third of you will graduate. Most of you will choose not to come back during one of your off seasons. Some of you will be injured so badly during training that you will not be able to finish. And most likely, a handful of you will get accidentally killed along the way.” There were shocked murmurs among the students as he said this and he seemed to enjoy it before speaking again.
“These are the perils that come from the day-to-day life of a guardsman, and especially an adventurer – for those of you who are foolish enough to be entertaining such notions. So we believe in getting you used to it here.” Silence remained as he finished speaking, a sinister smile on his face.
Master Kirith stepped forward, giving his red hair a small shake. “I am Master Kirith and I am in charge of your physical training. We know most of you are wondering why we have separated you like we have. Simple – these first two years we will be focusing primarily on your physical conditioning. We know from experience that without this, none of you will be able to handle the rest of your trainings once they begin.” He paused before beginning again.
“Each sex and race is unique in how their bodies react to trainings and what the realistic expectations are for each. To allow you to measure yourself and your progress accurately, we will be keeping you mostly in these groups while you train these first 1-2 years. As you each hit certain step marks, we will begin merging these groups together until, most likely sometime in your second year, we should have all of you remaining merged into one group. From that point, your physical training will be determined by a number of factors, all of which we will address at that time.”
Both female instructors stepped forward, though the blue-eyed one was the one that began speaking. “Greetings! I am Master Sandra and this is my twin,” she said nodding to the green-eyed female, “Master Rhianna. We are in charge of your tactics and strategy trainings. I specialize in one-on-one tactics while she specializes in group and army tactics. We will be here to assist in your early trainings as needed but as you near the end of your training years here you will spend more and more time with us as we make sure you are prepared for the situations that await you out there.”
Marek stepped forward. “Let’s make sure we’re all here. When I call your name, come up and introduce yourself to each master then reform your group further to the right.” He pointed, indicating where he wanted them to reform themselves. “You will reform your lines and remain quiet while we do this.” He then looked right at Steve. “Except for you, Steve, son of Byers. We’ve already met you. You may proceed to the other side.”
Feeling embarrassed, Steve made his way over to the other side and waited while they called the names off of their scrolls.