The Crystals of Aarken

[David]

This is where I'm going to put up the novel I'm working on. It's the first in a trilogy, called "The Crystals of Aarken". This is the prologue. Feel free to leave your honest opinion.


Prologue: The Catalyst

A gust of wind blew through the gray stone hallways of the centuries-old castle, chilling the bones of the master and his minion in the circular study. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow onto the walls opposite the windows. Soon everything would be under the pitch black chill of night.

“Are the preparations complete, Dardel?” a tall, black minotaur questioned his aide accusingly while scanning through a book of magic one last time. “Did you make sure that there was enough Aarken crystals and Limbion blood?”

“Yes my lord, everything is ready,” the small brown minotaur replied, cringing back in fear.

“It had better be ready. I would hate it if something went wrong. Some… accidents could happen,” the wizard eyed the other, hinting at the possibilities.

“I triple-checked everything that is involved with tonight’s ritual, my lord. Nothing should go wrong with your glorious plan!” Dardel replied with feigned excitement.

“Good, good. Then let that glorious plan unfold. Come, Dardel, we go to the great hall,” the big Mordil leader replied as he turned toward the door, grabbed a torch, and looked back to see if his aide was following him or not.

As they walked down the darkening, spiraling staircase down to the great hall, Dardel noticed the stained glass windows along the outer wall. He found it strange that he had never seen them before. They depicted minotaurs from ages past, or stories he remembered from when he was a calf. They made him highly uncomfortable, and brought bad memories to the fore of his mind that he had tried so hard to push away. You are a traitor, Dardel. You were the only Roscdil to stoop and buckle to Daedylon’s evil. You are evil. You will die a lonely death, and your family will not recite the burial chants for your lifeless, pathetic body. This is what will become of your life, traitor. I hope it was worth it. Dardel had to physically shake himself to make his subconscious stop tormenting him. He knew now that siding with Daedylon had been the worst decision of his life, but there was no going back now. The only way to get away from Daedylon was to die. Dardel couldn’t even remember why he had joined the Mordil army in the first place…was it out of desperation? Was it rebellion? Was he forced to? He wasn’t sure. The only thing to do now was to go along for the ride, and hope you didn’t get Daedylon so angry he killed you.

“Sir, I have received messages from Gargax, Kaelonn, and Frelda asking to speak with you tomorrow morning. Should I tell the messengers you will see them?” Dardel asked his master.

“Yes, I will see them, though I don’t know what they want to complain about this time.” Daedylon answered just as they entered the great hall. “Ah, everything is in place! Good work Dardel, you did something correctly for the first time in your life. Let’s hope this becomes a habit, hmmm?”

“I will try my best, sir,” Dardel responded humbly. Traitor…

“You had better. Now let us stop jabbering, and get this plan underway!” Daedylon retorted as he put on his amaranthine robe. “Now all of you who are not maintaining a crystal GET OUT!” That was followed by a mass exodus through the double door into a warm, muggy Zenoan evening. Unfortunate followers who were not fast enough found themselves collapsing to the floor, suddenly devoid of oxygen, on behalf of Daedylon. The last thing they would remember is the maniacal laughter of their evil master.

“Dardel!?” Daedylon called out.

“Yes, master?”

“Pour the Limbion blood onto the crystals now!” as he pushed his servant forward harshly.


“Yes, master,” Dardel replied as he picked himself up off of the floor. He began to pour the thick sanguine blood over the Aarken crystals, which all were the size of his torso. Once all eight crystals were covered, Daedylon went to the minotaur standing by the first crystal.

“I want you to repeat after me, and DO NOT make any mistakes, or this whole castle could go up in flames! That goes for ALL of you! You need to repeat the phrase over and over again until I say you can stop. Now repeat this: togmen in mor sul an cavan.”


The scrawny black-haired minotaur minion replied with a stutter," T-t-togman in m-mor sol a-a-an cavain,"


"NO, you complete imbecile!" Daedylon brought his thick staff down on the poor creature's left knee cap, breaking it, and punched him in the chest, which made his heart skip a beat. "Now repeat it correctly!"

"Togmen in mor sul an cavan."

"That was adequate. Let's hope the rest of you worthless sacks of rotten flesh get it right the FIRST time!" To the next minotaur, he said, “togmen in nend gur an rodigar.”

“Togmen in lagor lhach an letharmen."

“Togmen in ruth aegas an kram.”

“Togmen in heleg sul an wurgrian.”

“Togmen in sul andrann an maranaer.”

“Togmen in ruth ambar an forgaste.”

“Togmen in erias rath an torshav.”

By the time Daedylon had made it around the room, each of his magicians was speaking a different spell. As each minotaur spoke those phrases in the magical language, the Aarken crystals began to glow in luminous brilliance. A strong wind blew in from one of the windows that had been left open a crack, blowing out all the candelabra in the large room, with vaulted ceilings. The glow from the crystals, made up for the new loss of light, and the light grew brighter. The minotaur magicians chanting the spells had to cover their eyes. Daedylon walked into the center of the circle of crystals and spoke the final words of his spell. His words reverberated off of the gray stone walls:

“Tog guruthos an sin amar! Pan innas pencu an nin bellas, sui thae tir! Caro ha na!” The giant minotaur bellowed the last phrase as if he wanted the whole world to hear him. The ground began to shake, and the white light the Aarken crystals were giving off turned to a blood red. “It is finished. The rest should fall into place soon. You may all sleep until morning, of you can. Dardel, stay here with me.”

Daedylon began to create eight scrying pools on the floor. Each rippling, circular pool shone like quicksilver until an image appeared in the pool.

‘Describe what you see to me in each pool, Dardel. Tell me everything you see,” Daedylon commanded his assistant. Dardel walked over to the first pool, and when he saw what it showed, his eyes grew large.

“Umm, t-t-tornados are ravishing the land of Cavan, my lord,” the small minotaur stuttered in utter fear. “Buildings are being torn apart, and humans and livestock are being thrown into the air. The next pool shows massive forest fires racing through Letharmen Forest across the Ostanel Mountains to the north, my lord.” You are going to die, you sycophantic traitor! As he went down the line, Dardel felt as if he would retch, but Daedylon seemed to take sick pleasure in his discomfort, and would not let him stop. This is all your fault, kin-deserter! “Volcanoes are erupting all over Kram, entombing many villages in lava. Blizzards are harrowing the people of Wurgurian, and three hurricanes are converging on the islands of Maranaer. Many will die, my lord. Earthquakes shake the cities of Forgaste, my lord, and the last pool shows floods and mudslides breaking apart Torshav. Your evil plan is working, my lord.”

“Good! That is very good news to hear,” Daedylon answered with a sadistic chuckle.

“May I ask why you did not try and destroy the traitorous Roscdil, my lord?” Dardel asked inquisitively. No one will ever trust you again!


“I spared them, Dardel, because I would have them as allies, and maybe sparing their pathetic hides will give them one more reason to join me. That, and I know many of my minotaur followers would desert, since many consider Roscdil as kin, and would be offended if I attacked them. Family would stand with you. They do not…yet, so I do not classify them as such, though I wasn't kind to my own family anyway, so things would not change much,” the Mordil wizard replied with a sneer on his face.

“They will come around eventually, my lord, they will come.” Dardel reassured his master emphatically as both the Aarken crystals and scrying pool's radiant light winked out. He is not the only world destroyer, you backstabbing caballer, but at least your family will still be alive to make their revenge on your miserable, feeble, rotten hide!


“Let us see how the world recovers from this! All will crawl to the feet of Lord Daedylon sooner or later, and all will serve ME! I am the all powerful, all-seeing Daedylon! Hahahahahaha!
* * * * * * * * * *

[Willrett]

I like it cant wait to read the whole story hopefully in print.

[Ernildir]

Very interesting. Thanks for sharing.

[Mirimaran]

Loved it! Keep it up!

[David]

Well, since you liked the prologue, I guess I'll post chapter 1. It's like twice as long though... =) Hope you enjoy it!


Chapter One: The Chosen Come Forth

“We need to find a way to fix this NOW!” Grandmaster Merrik bellowed as he pounded is fist on the circular table. This quieted the other five quarreling voices at the table, who were conversing heatedly with each other. Each was trying to speak louder than the other as if their idea would be accepted more the louder they spoke. “We all need to calm down, and work this horrific situation out in a quick and civil manner. Now, even though Grandmaster Morgell and Grandmistress Lilianna couldn’t make it, let’s all voice our opinions one at a time, please! Luciana, will you start?”

“As I see it, Daedylon is the main problem here. He was the magician who caused this planet-wide massacre. What we need is a decisive, focused attack on his fortress to kill him. Once the head is gone, the body will prove to be easier, no?”

“What you fail to realize, Luciana, is that even that task will be extremely difficult. If Daedylon is powerful enough to cause natural disasters in almost every single country at once, do you think it will be easy to just sneak into his castle, kill him, and get out again alive? He probably has that place warded twice as much as Lhunfalas is,” Grandmaster Alaren responded quickly.

“It is to my knowledge that Daedylon used eight Aarken crystals to perform his attack. He then had each crystal sent to the place that they attacked.” Grandmistress Aessa announced, “He is using these crystals to either control the people around it, or drive them mad. If we were to destroy these crystals, I believe Daedylon will either be weakened or at least distracted enough so that we can take care of him for good.”

“I like this idea, but who will we send? We are too old, and even if we did go, is there someone you trust to run your order in your stead? I say we send a group of fifty men and women for each crystal, so they are all destroyed at once,” Grandmistress Cynwine added.

“Don’t you think that fifty would be just a little bit noticeable to Daedylon? He would send his minions against them in a heartbeat!” Grandmaster Graegor interjected. “I say we send one group of highly skilled warriors to destroy the crystals one at a time…say, about eight? I don’t think Daedylon will expect that, at least at first. What do you all think about that?”

“Let us all vote on it, then,” Merrik proposed. “Will we go with Graegor’s idea, or Cynwine’s? Who votes for Graegor’s idea?” All six hands at the table were raised, even Cynwine’s, albeit reluctantly. “Well, that settles it quite swiftly! Now the problem of who will we send? Graegor, since this is your plan, whom do you think should go?”

“Well, I think that we should send two Lohren, Rochon, and Rochben, then one Gollor and one Tulocoi. I think the Bereg, Berion, and Cantrad would be better used to continue to keep an eye on Daedylon, since they have been doing such a fine job of it so far,” the tall, slender man suggested, as he ran his hand through his auburn hair.

“That sounds reasonable to me,” Alaren added, who showed no emotion on his face.

“Are all in favor of this plan?” Merrik inquired. Again, all hands were raised. “Then we should all go put it into action. We will meet here again with our chosen warriors as soon as possible. Alaren, would you kindly use your teleportation spell to take us to our cities please?”

"I would be happy to," the old elf replied.
* * * * * * * *

Merrik was extremely thankful that Alaren used magic to send him back to Kohlm. It would have taken him a month to get all the way back if he was forced to sail. Merrik, being the typical dwarf he was, hated sailing. It made him seasick very soon after boarding a ship, so that mode of transportation was avoided at all costs.

Merrik found himself in his office in the Knight’s walled fortress in the city of Kohlm. The room could be described by some as somewhat extravagant, since there were many well-made rugs on the floor and tapestries covering the walls. Although he did think they looked nice, they were strictly for keeping out the cold during the long, harsh winters the people of Wurgrian endured every year. His first order of business was to assemble his generals, so they could bring forth their brightest students for selection. No, that would take too much time, he thought, I know who I would choose already anyway. As he walked towards the large wooden door to the hallway, he grabbed his heavy coat and a torch, as night had fallen, and the northern winds made it terribly chilly. The blizzards Daedylon had bombarded the country with did not help at all either, in fact, they still had not let up. This matter was far too pressing to wait until morning to address. He would have loved to at least take a short nap, but personal wants had to be put aside for a greater need.

The four Knight Generals all lived on the same corridor down a long flight of stairs from Merrik’s apartments. This shouldn’t take much time, Merrik thought to himself. To save time, although not his manners, he called for his generals in the hallway so he did not have to go to each separately.

“HARALD AND PAEDRA, I need to speak with you IMMEDIATELY!” Merrik shouted. Heads peaked around doors as his voice reverberated and echoed down the long hallway. “Go back to sleep! The lot of you! I only need to speak with Generals Harald and Paedra.” Merrik turned to find two of his generals standing there waiting for him to speak. Paedra was in her nightgown, with her arms folded and left foot tapping. Apparently, she did not appreciate being woken so. At least Harald had the decency to put on a pair of breeches this time, instead of walking out in his smallclothes. He must not have gone to bed at all that night. Merrik made a mental note to talk to him about that later. The bags under the dwarf’s eyes seemed to be a permanent fixture on the man as of late. He wondered what (or who) was keeping him up so late.

“I am sorry to have woken you in this manner, but I could not wait any longer. I will explain everything later, but right now, I need you to bring Hælda Reluth and Airedion Yanluth to me. If you would like to put on some more appropriate clothing, then do so quickly. Find your students and meet me in my private training room. I trust you have found out which book to pull by now.”
* * * * * * * * * *

“I don’t care if you drank the whole Northern Ocean last night, Hælda, you need to get up! This isn’t some silly whim; it’s on Merrik’s orders! I’d rather be sleeping right now as well, but something is going on, and the Grandmasters are trying to fix things. Now get yourself up, and in full gear, now! I’m going to go wait outside the door, and I want you ready to go in ten minutes!” Needless to say that Paedra was not in the mood to deal with this kind of thing at such an ungodly hour, but orders were orders. At least Merrik had given her time to put on her robe. As good of a student as Hælda was, Paedra was beginning to grow frustrated about the after-effects of her adventures in alcohol. Hælda was acting like a child, and she was almost thirty years old! Fortunately for her, it did not affect her fighting skills. Some said that she fought better when she was drunk, but Paedra just assumed they were joking. When Hælda finally walked out of her room, Paedra was surprised to see her in full plate armor. She had only expected her to put on the leather training gear the knights often used.

“That was awfully fast to get into plate armor, Hælda. I’m impressed. Now let’s get moving.”

“Thank you, but do you know why I am being hauled into Grandmaster Merrik’s office so early in the morning?”

“Have you not heard of all the planet-wide natural disasters that occurred yesterday? You really need to ease up on the ale if you missed that! I should have him lecture you on the values of moderation, but he’s too busy right now for that, besides the fact that it wouldn’t do any good. Anyway; whole cities south of here are snowed in by a massive blizzard that came out of nowhere. Many people have died, been trapped in their homes, or have gone missing,” General Paedra responded haughtily, “The Grandmasters just had a council meeting, and they suspect Daedylon Evmah of these atrocities. No one else but the gods could have done this, and the priests had no hint or message from them at all. Things like that don’t happen by chance.”

“But why does he need me?” Hælda replied, baffled.

“I’ll let Merrik tell you that, as I am not fully informed myself, to be quite honest with you. Here we are.” Paedra pulled down on an old, leather-bound book on dwarven brewing practices by a man named Maerloch the Inebriate.

“That’s a good book; I’ve read it three times!” Hælda exclaimed.

“Wonderful, Hælda, just wonderful. This bookcase actually leads to Merrik’s private training room, where he has summoned you.” Paedra pulled the book as if taking it off the shelf, but it stopped halfway, and a crack sounded as if a latch undid itself after years of disuse. The bookcase swung out towards the pair, and a room lit up with lanterns appeared to them. Merrik, Harald, and Airedion were already there waiting for them, talking softly amongst themselves.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived. All of you take a seat please,” Merrik motioned to some chairs that lined the wall to his left. “Whether you know fully or not, I was told to explain everything to you before I give you your orders. Lord Daedylon of Zenoah has, by magical means, caused catastrophic natural disasters on every single major country, for some unknown motive. The Bereg operatives we had watching him saw the whole ceremony, and have told us that Daedylon used several Aarken crystals to perform this horrible deed. Unfortunately, they were unable to stop him before he committed the deed. Daedylon is now using these Aarken crystals, enhanced with Limbion blood, to assert control over the capitols of every country he attacked. He himself is still holed up in his fortress in Zenoah, but he has sent a governor of sorts and many troops to each capitol city to enforce his dominion. I thank Maia that we know this much, or this whole mission would be more of a shot in the dark than it is already.”

“What is it you would have us do, Grandmaster?” Airedion asked in a quiet respectful tone.

“The other Grandmasters and I want to send a small strike-force to loosen Daedylon’s grip outside Zenoah, and eventually take him out. You will travel to each capitol city, deal with Daedylon’s lackeys and destroy the Aarken crystal there. Once you take care of the capitol, we can send in larger forces to deal with the small armies Daedylon has placed there. You two will be going, along with six other men and women. You will be representing all of the Rochon, so fight and act accordingly. That especially goes for you Hælda. I know that you are an excellent fighter, and a noble woman, but not when you drink. You will stay away from alcohol as much as possible on this mission, no if’s and’s or but’s. Do you understand what it is the two of you are going to be doing?”

“Yes Grandmaster, I understand,” the two responded in unison.

“Good. You will return with me as soon as you are outfitted for the mission to meet with the Grandmasters and the other members of your group.”
* * * * * * * * * *


Graegor chuckled to himself at the reaction of his aide, Polypheus, when he suddenly appeared in his office. The old man had been asleep in a high-backed chair by the fireplace with a blanket over his legs and a leather-bound book in his lap.

“I am sorry to have startled you Polypheus, but I need you to go find Sirith Sarathem and Aengus Tathem, and bring them to me.”

“Y-y-yes sir,” Polypheus replied through a deep yawn, “I am assuming that this is urgent enough to illicit an immediate response?”

“Yes Polypheus, I need you to go now please.”

"Would you like me to tell them what is going on, or would you rather tell them yourself?”

“You tell them, as it will save time. Meet me back here after you get them, as we will be leaving as soon as possible,” Graegor answered, “Oh, and Polypheus?”

“Yes, my friend?”

“Just because you have the ability to read minds does not mean that you should.”

“Yes Grandmaster, I am sorry. It will not happen again.” Polypheus replied with a bow and left the room to find Sirith and Aengus.
* * * * * * * * * *


Luciana had Alaren teleport her directly to the soldier’s quarters to save her the walk from her quarters all the way to where Tarathon Faeryl and Eriniel Lyril were living. She found them sitting on a bench by a fountain under a maple tree, holding hands and talking softly to each other. Luciana found it interesting that two of her best students would fall in love with each other, but maybe it was fate. She hoped that their bond would mean that they would make sure the other stayed alive in the days to come. It had been a very long time since she knew someone to be as good as Tarathon and Eriniel at being Rangers she would be mad to have chosen anyone else.

“I hate to break you love birds up, but I need to speak with you about something urgent, right now.” Luciana announced after a deliberate cough.

“Let me guess…you need us for a mission to find out why these natural disasters occurred?” Eriniel replied with a smirk on her face.

“More like she wants us to fix the problem,” Tarathon interjected with a chuckle, his dark orange irises sparkled in the moonlight.

“You two are very perceptive. I need you both to come with me to meet with the other Grandmasters, and some other people whom you will be introduced to shortly. I will explain things on the way.”

“Just let us get our gear, and we’ll be ready to go in a little bit,” Tarathon replied.
* * * * * * * * * *

Cynwine stepped out of the glowing oval portal into her quarters in the Cleric’s city of Sclayr. The change in climate was refreshing, coming from a snowed in village somewhere in northeastern Wurgrian, to the almost tropical climate of Forgaste. Cynwine immediately cast off her fur lined cloak onto her high-backed chair behind her desk. She knew the right person for this mission.

Diedra was one of the sweetest young women that Cynwine had the pleasure of teaching, yet she did not let others use her as a stepping stool or abuse her kindness. She was also very much like her spirit, the lion. She would step into the middle of fights and stand up for the underdog. Almost everyone got along well with Diedra, although some thought she was ‘too good’ and sucked up to the instructors, which most knew was flat-out wrong.

She found Diedra in the Chapel of Maia reading by candlelight in the far section where it was quiet except for the sounds of the forest outside. She liked to listen and watch the stars here, sitting on a window seat daydreaming.

“Diedra? I need to speak with you…Diedra!” Cynwine had to repeat herself a little more forcefully to grab the blonde haired young woman out of her mind wandering.

“Yes, Grandmistress? I am sorry that I did not respond the first time, I was lost in my thoughts again. What did you want to talk about?”

“Well apparently that devastating earthquake that hit us yesterday wasn’t just a coincidence. It was part of a larger attack triggered by magic, made by Daedylon Evmah. The other Grandmasters and I have decided to send a small group out to deal with this threat head-on. I want you to be one of them. I’m not going to force you to accept, although I really want you to go. I will understand if you decl-“

“I’ll go. I am ready. The goddesses Mitore and Itae came to me in a dream last night and told me that I would be doing something very important with my life, and that it would happen soon. I tried to get more answers out of them, for they were very vague, but I believe this is what they were talking about,” Diedra blurted out before Cynwine could finish her sentence.

“Well then, that settles it. I’m glad that we will have the favor of the gods with us on this mission. As soon as you pack your things we will teleport back to meet the other Grandmasters and your companions.”
* * * * * * * * * *

After Alaren had teleported all of the other Grandmasters to their respective cities; he teleported himself to the city of Lhunfalas. Lhunfalas was the Mage’s stronghold on the main island of Maranaer. He hoped that Aedan was in one of the usual places he frequented. Even though it was very late at night, that still did not seem to stop the young man from going to the library to study magic. He also liked to go to the top of the tallest tower in Lhunfalas and stargaze every once & a while. He decided to start there first.

The boy was brilliant. Most aspiring mages focused on one of the four legal schools of magic. Then when they have a firm enough grasp on it, they can choose to learn a second form of magic. Aedan had excelled greatly in the Elemental school when he first came to Lhunfalas, so his teacher let him choose another. He began studying the Energy school along with continuing to study in the Elemental school. Eventually, Aedan was doing so well that he wanted to learn a third school. Alaren then took Aedan on as a new pupil, and started teaching him Psychos magic. He knew that Aedan would be the perfect candidate for this mission.

After a few minutes walking up the spiraling staircase in Lhunfalas’ central tower, he found Aedan at the top, reading.

“You wanted to speak with me, Grandmaster?” Aedan asked without even looking up from the book he was reading. He was wearing a heavy dark blue cloak for warmth on this particularly chilly night. After he placed a strip of leather between the pages to mark his place, the young Felinar slowly turned around and lifted off the hood revealing a feline face with piercing green eyes, his glossy midnight black fur reflected a small amount of moonlight.

“Why else would I have hauled myself all the way up those stairs in the middle of a night like this? Anyway, I need you for a very special, very secretive mission involving the recent attack by Daedylon. Are you willing?” the old Elven mage requested.

“Yes, I am willing. When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you gather what you are going to need, we will teleport away to meet the others.”

“I’ll be ready in five minutes, Grandmaster,” the tall Felinar replied.

“Good. When you’re finished, meet me in my study.”
* * * * * * * * * *

When everyone had returned to the designated meeting place, Grandmistress Aessa gave a quick briefing to let the eight warriors know exactly what they were getting into.

“I have also just received word from my agents watching Daedylon that he has left Zenoah to check on the progress of his operatives at each Aarken crystal location. There is a chance that you will run into him at one of these places. If you do, avoid direct interaction with him at all costs, unless there is no other way out! Now go, and may the gods go with you.”

[David]

Chapter 2: Blessed by the Gods
“We now have messengers here from all eight of the major temples who would like to speak with you,” Grandmaster Alaren announced.

In front of the group stood eight figures who wore heavy black cloaks that covered their whole bodies. Everything became deathly silent as the figures removed their hoods. They were all elves, and a male with long blonde hair in the center came forward to address the group.

“We are not mere priests from a local temple. We are messengers who have been sent here by the gods themselves. They wish you to know that you have their approval and blessings on this noble mission. They would like to help you personally, but the gods do not interfere with the squabbles of their creations. They have however provided you with weapons and armor that will surely help you in your quest. The gods will be your patrons, one you can call on in times of need. We have brought these fine gifts here for you. Come before the messenger of your patron to receive them.

“How are we supposed to know who our patron is?” Airedion questioned humbly.

“Then we will come to you, for we know,” the woman to the left of the man who had spoken before replied. The eight messengers then split off to speak with the eight warriors individually.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tarathon spoke with the messenger of Almir, who was the man who had first spoken to the group.

“You don’t look surprised by this, Tarathon Faeryl.”

“I’m not. The Calben have worshipped Almir since their birth, as have I. I am infinitely satisfied that Almir is proud of me, and supports my efforts in this quest. What has the All-Father sent me?”

“It is not that simple, young one. You must first pass a test. You will have to defeat 10 warriors by yourself with the equipment you already have as fast as possible.”

The grove that the group was meeting in suddenly blurred and flickered. Everyone but Tarathon vanished. A voice called out of nowhere:

“They will come very shortly. I would get prepared if I were you.”

Tarathon broke into a jog, and scaled up the first tree he saw that was big enough to hold his weight and tall enough so that he could hide from his adversaries. He wondered what manner of enemies the messenger pitted him against. He crouched on a large branch about thirty feet up the tree, placed the hood of his cloak on his head so that his face was obscured, and nocked an arrow onto his longbow. A flash of movement and the rustling of leaves turned Tarathon’s attention to his left. Four black minotaurs came out of the cover of the trees and lumbered into the circular clearing. He could hear the sound of their hooves clicking on the stone walkways. He loosed his arrow into the neck of the leading minotaur, who fell to the ground instantly, grasping his neck. After quickly nocking and drawing another arrow, Tarathon shot another minotaur in the forehead. The beast staggered back a few feet, and stumbled to the ground, dead. The remaining minotaurs stopped in their track and frantically searched around them for what was attacking them, but could not see the skilled Ranger. Tarathon quickly dealt with them with his bow.

As soon as the last minotaur fell, two arrows flew out of the grove, and whizzed by the elf’s face. One of the arrows clipped his left ear. Four centaur archers galloped out of the trees at Tarathon, and were getting ready to shoot their shortbows again. He quickly put away his bow, and jumped down onto lower branches until he landed firmly on the ground, carefully dodging the arrows that were being shot at him.

Once Tarathon was on the ground he drew his two swords and charged the centaurs head on. He was within attacking distance of the first centaur within seconds. He swung his swords, lopping off the creature’s arms, and another swing beheaded it. Before the centaur could fall to the ground, Tarathon jumped on its back, and from there, leapt onto the back of another centaur. He quickly sheathed his shortsword, and grabbed both of the centaur’s arms, and locked them behind its back. By pulling the arms, and applying pressure, he steered the helpless creature towards the remaining centaurs, where he quickly dispatched them with his longsword. When they had fallen, he brought his sword around, and slit the last centaur’s throat.

Tarathon heard an ear-popping screech from above him. He turned to is right to see what it was when two male harpies crashed into him, driving him to the ground. Each harpy had him by the arm so he could not retaliate. They picked Tarathon up and braced him against a large redwood tree, which scraped his back badly. The harpies proceeded to punch the elf in various places on his body with unexpected force. Finally, Tarathon realized that they only had him by the arms. His legs were free to retaliate. He pushed off the tree trunk to gain a little momentum, and kicked both creatures squarely in the chest, knocking them back and releasing their grip. From there, Tarathon had the upper hand, and drew his shortsword, and picked up the longsword which had fallen to the ground. He sliced off the wings of the closest harpy before it could pick itself up off of the floor. The horrid creature screamed and writhed in pain as blood gushed from its back.

By this time, Tarathon’s other adversary had gotten up, and drawn a dirk from a belt sheath and brought out a buckler that had been strapped to its back. It flapped its wings a couple times, just enough to get it a foot above the ground. Both of the warriors charged at each other at the same time. The harpy tried to smash the buckler into Tarathon’s already bloodied face, but missed badly, causing it to spin around almost a full circle. Taking this opportunity while it showed itself, Tarathon slashed at his adversary. Unfortunately, he only cut off a few feathers of its right wing, and made a small cut in the upper portion of its right arm. This did cause the harpy to fall to the ground, and grab its arm. Apparently Tarathon had cut a tendon because the creature dropped its sword when it fell. Taking action, he made a strong back-handed slash at the evil thing’s neck, killing it instantly. He walked nonchalantly to his last adversary, who was lying face first in a pool of blood, unconscious. Tarathon flipped the body over with his foot, and plunged his longsword into the chest of the last harpy.

The grove began to flicker and blurred again, putting Tarathon back with the rest of the group.

“Well done, Tarathon. You have passed the test and earned your gifts. Since you are a Fire Elf, you have been given an enchanted longsword and a fine shortsword to fight in the style of your people. But you are also a Ranger, so you have been given an Elven bow with a never-ending quiver of arrows as well. The Ever-Burning Flame has also sent a full set of scale mail armor to protect you from harm.”

“I am grateful of these very generous gifts. They will be used wisely and with skill, the All-Father will not be disappointed in me!” Tarathon responded with a look of awe on his face. He admired the Elven longsword, and gaped at the gold inlay of vines that ran down the blade to the tip. The gentle curve of the sword was beautiful, yet deadly at the same time. The Elven script on the blade glowed and flickered like a flame in the dead of night would. The shortsword’s design matched the longsword, with a few small distinctions. All of the pieces of armor had a red tint to the metal, and the vine & leaf motif that was on the swords was also on the armor and the bow. They really were magnificent gifts.

“Do you know why Almir is your patron Tarathon? Surely you do not believe that this is a mere coincidence!”

“I’m not really sure why, though I am grateful of it.”

“It is because you are not the average person, Tarathon. You are a child of the gods, a son of Almir himself! You are only a demigod though, because your mother is a mortal. This does give you certain attributes and abilities, of which you will find out soon enough. Good luck, son of the gods.”

Tarathon was left speechless, but before he could even open his mouth to ask a question Almir’s messenger stepped back a few feet and snapped his fingers. When he snapped his fingers, his whole body burst into white-hot flames. After a few seconds of brilliant light and heat, the fire went out, leaving nothing behind.

* * * * * * * * * *

Eriniel Lyril was approached by the messenger of Eryn, the goddess whom she was named after.

“The Lady of the Wood sends her blessings, child,” the Elven woman said, “but to receive it, you must first pass a test.”

“What kind of test will it be?”

“You must hit the center of three targets using your bow. The challenge is that they are at increments of 500, 750, and 1,000 feet. Good luck.”

Everything around Eriniel blurred and twisted. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. When everything cleared, she found herself in a wooded clearing. It stretched farther than her eyes could see. There was only one problem. She could not see the targets.

“The targets are there, Eriniel. Even your Elven eyes cannot see that far away. Trust in your skill, and you will do fine.” A voice came out of thin air, and seemed to read her mind.

There was nothing that Eriniel could do but try. She needed all the help she could get, and who could compete with a goddess! She squinted down-range, but still could not see any of the three targets. Giving a shrug, Eriniel drew an arrow from her back quiver, and nocked it onto the bow string. With a sigh, she brought up her longbow and pulled back on the string. She knew that she would only get one chance to do this, though she had no idea how she was going to hit the center of a target that was almost a half mile away. She closed her eyes and imagined a target in her mind’s eye and loosed. She stepped to the right five feet, closed her eyes and shot off another arrow. Eriniel moved over another five feet and shot the last arrow with eyelids completely shut.

There was nothing left to do but walk down to the targets to see how she did, making sure to scan the ground for any that might have missed. The farther she walked, the more anxious she grew. She did not find any arrows stuck in the ground, which gave her a small amount of satisfaction. After what seemed like an hour, Eriniel finally saw the first target, and what she saw shocked her.

The arrow was directly in the middle of the target! The whole target was only two feet across, which would have been a challenge at closer increments let alone 500 feet. With renewed confidence, Eriniel set off to find the second target. To her surprise, the arrow was dead center on this one as well, and this target was only one foot across! Eriniel started to feel giddy at her fortune, she had no idea how this had happened. Continuing on, she eventually arrived at the last target. To her amazement, in the heart of a target only five inches across, was her final arrow.

“You have done well, Eriniel, the messenger’s voice sounded from nothingness again, which startled Eriniel. I knew you could do it.” The world blurred back to normal, and Eriniel found herself standing face to face with Eryn’s messenger again.

“How was that even possible? I have never been able to shoot that far before!”

“Think about it Eriniel. Eryn chose you for a reason. She would not put her faith in just anyone. Your name is no coincidence either. So you know what it means?”

“It…it means ‘daughter of Eryn’…” Eriniel answered after a sharp intake of breath.

“Now you understand. Your mother was the goddess Eriniel, and you have been raised by your mortal father and surrogate mother. You have most definitely earned your mother’s blessing. Here is a longbow that she made herself from the antlers of the Ivory Stag, and a quiver that will never be emptied no matter how long the battle is. She also gives a full set of hardened leather armor that will protect you, but also let you maneuver freely. Finally, Eryn sends a shortsword of fine make that you can rely on in times of need.”

“I thank you and the Lady of the Wood… my mother… for these fine gifts, I will cherish them always,” Eriniel replied.

With that, Eryn’s messenger suddenly morphed into a timber wolf, ran into the forest, and seemed to disappear in between the trees and bushes.

[Greg]

Always a fun read, Dave. Great stuff.

[David]

Thanks! I might post chapter 3 sometime this weekend, if I have time. I've got a Music History III project to work on =( but then I get to play some D&D =)

[Greg]

Sweet. I'll be in LA this weekend, so I'll be bringing back all of my Robin Hood Lego characters...spangenhelms r us!

[David]

Chapter 3: Divine Intervention
Airedion walked toward the messenger of Nen, for he knew who supported him. His people had always worshipped the Lord of the Seas.

“Greetings Airedion Yanluth, The Master of the Waves sends his blessing, but in order to receive it, you must pass a test.”

“What will I need to do?”

“You are going to fight three spearmen at once by yourself.”

“That’s not very difficult, this will be over too quickly!” the young elf replied, “What’s the catch?”

“You must not let their spears touch you. The only things you will be allowed to use are your sword and shield.”

“I see. Let’s get this over with then!”

With that, the Elven messenger snapped his fingers and the world around Airedion shifted into a small walled-in courtyard, with no doors or windows. There was nothing there that would give him an advantage in this fight.

Three shadowy figures materialized into Airedion’s view, and they seemed to walk through the walls of the small court towards the alert elf. The three spearmen wore black cloaks that covered their faces and obscured most of their bodies as well. All Airedion could see clearly was the men’s boots and the ends of their black spears. Just looking at them gave him chills up his spine.

“Well, I had better get this over with. Hopefully I can get through this with minimal injuries,” Airedion thought. He was visibly nervous; sweat formed on his forehead.

At this point the spearmen began slowly circling Airedion along the perimeter of the court. They reminded him of a pack of wolves going in for the kill.

Airedion heard two light footsteps behind him. He thanked the gods for his acute Elven hearing. He swiftly spun around to barely block a swinging blow with his large round shield. He brought his greatsword up and smashed the pommel into the spearman’s jaw, which emitted a loud crack. The man reeled back and brought his hand quickly to his face in pain. Blood was gushing out of his mouth. Apparently he had broken the man’s jaw.

The other two men took this opportunity to make their move, thinking that Airedion was not paying attention. They were wrong. At the last second, he brought his shield around so that it covered his back, blocking the blow from behind while swinging his sword to block the spearman’s thrust that came from his left. The head of the spear got caught in the hilt of Airedion’s sword. He then pulled his sword-arm in, which in turn pulled the ensnared spearman forward. Airedion brought his shield around to bash the boss into the other man’s exposed cranium, to a devastating effect.

Airedion quickly unlatched his sword from the spear, and turned to face his last opponent before he could make a cheap shot to his back. The young elf moved very fast for being in plate armor. The last opponent began slinking around Airedion again, and picked up the two spears of his fallen comrades. Airedion kept a wary eye on the wolfish man, anticipating another attack. As he expected, the man hurled one of the spears at his chest cavity, which he easily blocked with his shield. His opponent seemed to be getting desperate, because he threw both remaining spears at Airedion at once, leaving him with no weapon. Airedion blocked one spear with his shield, whose point stuck into the wood. He slashed at the second spear with his sword, cutting it in half, but on of the pieces was still coming at him. Fortunately, the edge of his shield stopped the stray piece from hitting him at the last second.

To Airedion’s surprise the dark man in front of him drew two shortswords from hidden sheaths on his back. It looked like this guy was more trouble than he was worth. With a quick flourish, the mysterious man charged at Airedion, blades and teeth bared. He was blindingly fast, and Airedion had to take a defensive stance to stop the flurry of blades from hitting him. He slowly backed away with his shield out in front of him, and his sword ready for an opportunity to strike, but there was none.

Airedion was eventually backed up against the high walls of the courtyard, and at this point he was fighting for his life, for he didn’t know if this fight was real or not. This whole ordeal was getting more and more strange. He hoped that this could be ended quickly especially since he saw out of the corner of his eye one of the incapacitated men get up and stagger over to him with one of the broken spear tips.

Suddenly time stopped and the Elven messenger materialized out of thin air.

“I think that’s quite enough fighting for now. You did well, and did not let your enemy land a single blow. Take these gifts from your patron god. He gives to you an Elven greatsword and shield. You are also given a spear and a set of Elven plate armor. Use them well, for your life and the lives of many depend on it.”

“I will not fail Nen. I am honor-bound to bring about the end of Daedylon, and I will do so, or die in the attempt.”

“That is good. You were curious as to which god was your patron; do you know why Nen is your patron?”

“I have not a clue.”

“It is because Nen is your father. You are half god, half elf. Your mother married an earthly being so that you could be raised properly. This lends itself to abilities and privileges, but you will have to find those out at a later date, preferably by yourself. Make sure you do not abuse those privileges, Airedion Yanluth.”

“…I will not. I cannot. I will not fail you… father.”

When Airedion lifted his bowed head, the messenger had transformed into an amorphous, aqueous shape of itself, which fell into a puddle and instantly evaporated.

* * * * * * * * * *

The messenger of Khelek approached Hælda Reluth with the Elven grace that was envied by many.

“The Frost Thegn sends his blessings, little one. He sees that though you may be small, your heart and your courage are not. Those will be your defining qualities in the days to come. In order to receive that blessing, though, you must pass a test. It will be difficult, but you will persevere.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You must defeat three golems at once by yourself. The catch is that you will have to fight them by yourself, and you may not use your own weapons, only an axe and hammer that will be provided for you.”

“That’s all? This’ll be over quickly.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see. Good luck, you’ll need it.”

Before Hælda could get a word in edge-wise, with a flick of the wrist, the icy messenger disappeared. Once again, the world around the wide-eyed warrior shimmered and blurred. She found herself in a small arena. The floor was covered in a layer of sand, and all of the seats around the lowered fighting area were empty. Beyond the arena, Hælda could see the tops of snow capped mountains, but the time for staring at the scenery was over.

Hælda felt the ground shake beneath her and some small pebbles on the arena floor were bouncing up and down from what felt like a small earthquake. Three large gates rose from the north, east, and west faces of the arena, and from each gate emerged a towering golem. Since Hælda was a dwarf, this factor was only exacerbated. Out of the eastern gate came a frost golem, made out of solid blocks of ice, and a head piece like inverted icicles, which looked a bit like a crown.

From the western door plodded a stone golem, a massive creature entirely made of rock, except for the two glowing sapphires that were its eyes. It looked to Hælda like Gond had simply stuck some boulders into a humanoid shape and gave it life.

Out of the northern gate emerged a creature that terrified Hælda. The bone golem lumbered toward her at a slow swagger, and stopped fifty feet in front of her. The thing looked like a huge human skeleton, but it was three times the size of a normal person. It also had an extra set of arms; the skull was that of a huge jungle cat, a long tail, and the feet of a bird of prey. From its mouth came a roar that shook the ground. The bone-chilling screech forced Hælda to cover her ears, for she feared it would make her go deaf.

As courageous as she always tried to be, this time, Hælda was genuinely terrified and did not want to fight. A voice sounded in her mind:

“The golems will fight whether you do or not. You must choose for yourself: do you fight, or do you die?”

The voice was right, despite the fact that Hælda despised what she had to do.

“Not everything in life is enjoyable. Fate and duty calls us all, no one is exempt from that.”

“Then I do what I must.”

With that, Hælda picked up the axe and hammer at her feet and charged the frost golem to her right as fast as her legs would take her. The golem struck out first, smashing its fist to the ground in an attempt to crush Hælda. She was able to dodge the blow, and move around to the golem’s back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the stone golem coming at her, pulling back its massive arm to attack.

To Hælda’s great fortune, the stone golem completely missed her, and ended up punching the frost golem square in the chest. A loud crack emitted from the golem, and Hælda saw multiple large fractures branching out from where the blow struck. The frost golem fell to the ground in multiple pieces, defeated.

Seizing an opportunity amidst chaos, Hælda ran behind the stone golem, and using the spikes on the back sides of her weapons, she climbed up the back of the stone beast. Every blow pulled Hælda closer to the golem’s head, and every blow made it writhe and bellow in aggravation. Hælda had to think on her feet, for she was not completely sure how to defeat these golems.

Acting on instinct, Hælda pulled herself up to her feet so that she was standing on the towering golem’s shoulders, straddling its head. She swung her axe over its head, striking at the golem’s sapphire eye with the spiked side. The blow struck true, the spike hit the center of the huge gem. Hælda then used her weight and the axe to pry the sapphire out of the golem’s stony skull, which popped out with great effort. The gem stayed on the axe, making the spike unusable. Without shifting over, Hælda then struck at the other eye with a mighty two-handed blow using her hammer. The sapphire shattered into many small shards and pieces.

The stone golem keeled forward, bellowing all the louder. Hælda did not want to fall from that great a height, or be crushed under the immense weight of the rocky creature. As the beast fell forward, Hælda ran upright down its right arm, and leapt safely to the ground. Immediately after she got to the ground and turned around, the stone golem hit the arena floor, face first. A loud rumbling, cracking noise emitted from the fallen beast, and all of the pieces of stone that made up the creature broke apart. All that was left were huge boulders lying on the ground.

That left the ghastly bone golem for last. Against what Hælda viewed as her better judgment, she ran head-long towards the golem, taking care to dodge the sweeps or its arms and jabs of its fists. She began to feel the fatigue of battle and the weight of her armor. Fighting in plate mail was not an easy task, even for one who was trained to do so. Sweat beaded and fell down her face.

Hælda quickly figured out that her previous strategies weren’t going to work this time. She found that the bone golem could reach around to its back. She almost got grabbed by one of its arms while climbing up its back, but she was able to slip into the golem’s rib cage. She was safe there, the ribs and sternum kept the beast’s claws at bay.

Using this relative safety, Hælda swung her axe in between the golem’s vertebrae. With the axe firmly wedged in its spine, she began swinging her hammer into the back of the axe as if she was felling a tree. The stone golem’s eye was still lodged on the spike of the axe, making it easier to hit. She tried desperately to block out of the treacherous ear-splitting scream emanating from its evil looking skull.

After a dozen more blows of the hammer, Hælda split the golem’s spine in two. Had the axe been sharper, she could have done it in less, but she had to use what was given to her.

With a final death scream, the bone golem fell to the arena floor. Hælda crawled out of a heap of bones, and gave a sigh of relief.

“I AM VICTORIOUS!”

Yes you are. Come claim tour reward. Hælda’s sight blurred as it had before, and she found herself with her compatriots again, standing in front of the mysterious messenger.

“Khelek also gives you his double-bladed axe, a bearded axe, two throwing hatchets, and a full set of Dwarven plate armor. Put them to good use, and don’t let your father down.”

“…My…father? What do you mean?”

“I mean that there is a reason why you were chosen for this cause, Hælda. There is a reason why Khelek is your patron god. You are a daughter of the god of ice, Khelek, though your mother was a mortal.”

“Then I will succeed for the glory of the Dwarves and for Khelek!” Hælda replied energetically and with great purpose, “These gifts are wonderful, and they will be put to good use.”

[David]

Here's the next chapter.

Chapter 4: Bright Sun, Brighter Future
Aengus Tathem was a Felinar whose fur was like that of the leopard, as opposed to Aedan, whose fur was completely black. His horse, Eogwae, went everywhere with him. At the moment, Aengus had his reins tied to a lower tree branch nearby, next to Sirith’s cat, Bertrand. One of Aengus’ brilliant green eyes always seemed to be watching Eogwae to make sure he was safe. That kind of bond is normal for Riders, especially if they are new, or their mount is particularly mischievous. He was approached by the messenger of Gond, who seemed to be more muscular than his compatriots, but due to the bulky robe he wore, it was hard to tell for sure.

“Will you accept what Gond offers you, Aengus?”

“I will accept anything Stonefist gives. We’re going to need all the help we can get to accomplish this ludicrous mission!”

“That is all well and good, but in order to receive these fine gifts, you must prove your worth.”

“What must I do to prove myself?”

“You will have to hit multiple targets, moving or otherwise, at various distances on horseback as fast as possible using your hatchets and spears. Will you do this?”

“Yes, though it doesn’t look like I have a choice otherwise.”

Aengus’ vision blurred and shifted, which reminded him of being drunk. When his vision cleared, he was in a large grassy field with Eogwae at his side. Trees surrounded the clearing, but Aengus could not see very far into the dark forest. He decided to take the saddle off and ride bareback because he needed the use of both his hands. Not having to worry about reins would make it easier to steer Eogwae with his legs.

Begin in ten seconds, Aengus. The messenger’s voice resounded in his head as he jumped nimbly onto Eogwae’s back.

Three…Two…One…Start.

With a quick squeeze of his knees, Aengus and Eogwae were off. He pulled two hatchets from his belt to hit the closer targets. After about ten feet, the first target popped up out of the tall grass. The targets were small, thin, wooden discs that magically floated about a foot above the grass. With cat-like reflexes, Aengus threw the hatchet, and it hit dead center.

The first two were relatively easy. For the average person, this task would have been far more difficult. Besides having a general knack for this kind of thing, Aengus practiced throwing his hatchets and javelins almost as much as he practiced swordplay.

“Do not lose focus, brother. Just because it is easy now does not mean that it will stay that way.”

“I know, Eogwae. I’m actually surprised they started off so easy. Oh, there’s the next one! It looks twice as far as the last target.”

“You should probably save your remaining hatchets for the moving targets the elf mentioned. You can throw javelins farther anyway.”

“You’re right.” Aengus quickly put his last two hatchets back into the loops in his brown leather belt, and pulled two javelins out of a special quiver. It was strapped to Eogwae, which could also be attached to his saddle.

The pair came upon the next set of targets. Two were stationary, standing six feet in the air and thirty feet away. The third target was moving at a moderate rate, similar to a man running. Aengus let loose a javelin at the first stationary target, which landed just shy of the center.

“That was a good shot, brother. Keep up the good work.”

“I intend to,” Aengus replied while throwing another javelin. He didn’t even look behind to see if he had hit the target or not. His keen feline ears picked up a satisfactory *thud* of the javelin hitting the wood of the target.

Moving targets were always more difficult because as soon as you aim at the target and throw the projectile, the target has already moved away. Aengus made every effort to focus on following the moving target and anticipate its movements. He knew that there would be no margin for error; he could not miss a single target. He hurled his last javelin a couple of feet in front of the moving disc.

Out of the blue, a gust of wind blew the javelin a foot off of his intended course. To his great fortune, the target started moving backwards, and the javelin hit the left side of the target. Aengus let out a sigh of relief at this stroke of luck. He hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath. He still had two moving targets left, but he was approaching the edge of the clearing.

“Well, let’s just circle around to the other side and try to find the last two.”

Using his legs, Aengus turned Eogwae gradually to the left, following the tree line back the way he came, all the while pulling out his last two hatchets from his belt. When they had built up enough momentum, Eogwae finally spotted another target.

“The next target is only about fifteen feet away, brother, but it is floating twenty feet in the air.”

“I see it now.” Aengus said little so his active mind would not wander from the task at hand. He brought his right arm out, fully extended, and lobbed the hatchet into the air. The small axe hit the top edge of the target dead center, splitting it in half.

“I think I see the last target in the distance, but it could also be a bird.”

“It’s definitely the target. I haven’t seen or heard any signs of wildlife since coming here anyway.”

“Well, you would know better than me. Your sight and hearing are much better than mine. We should get much closer before you try to hit it. You only have one hatchet left, and no javelins.”

“I can’t wait too long though, or time will run out. They made the last target difficult for a reason. This is a test, not a stroll in the park, Eogwae.”

“Just make sure that you know that you can hit it first. We can not fail.”

The pair rode in silence for another hundred feet, closing in on half the distance from when they first spotted the final target.

“I need to throw it now! Something’s telling me we don’t have much time left!”

“No, we’re still too far away! It will be too difficult from here!”

“I can’t wait any longer! I need to do this now! GOND GIVE ME STRENGTH!”

Time seemed to slow down as Aengus hurled the hatchet with all his might at the last target, which was floating around one hundred feet ahead of him and forty feet above the ground. Aengus closed his eyes; he couldn’t bare to see to see if he had failed nor not.

To his great pleasure, his ears picked up a faint *thud* from afar. He opened his eyes to see the target fall to the ground with the hatchet dead center on the bulls-eye. He felt immediately relieved, and rode around with his eyes closed and hands in the air.

When he finally brought Eogwae to a stop, the messenger’s words popped into his mind.

You did well Aengus. Come back to me.

The clearing began swaying and blurring, making Aengus slightly nauseous. When it stopped, he was back with his companions, and Eogwae was exactly where he left him.

“You did well, so take this Lupraeg sword, two hand axes, a set of javelins, and this full set of splint mail armor. Gond is putting his faith in you, Aengus…especially you. Do not let him down, and be sure to take care of these gifts.”

“Oh, I will. I do not take this lightly. Anything given by the gods, whether it’s something physical or just some advice, should never be misused. May I ask why he has taken special interest in me?”

“It is because he is your father.”

“What!? Really? So I’m half god and half mortal?”

“Yes, that is correct. You may or may not have noticed signs of this earlier, but you will see more soon. Do you really think that any normal person could throw a hatchet at a target one hundred feet away and still hit it? I think not. No, you are definitely Gond’s son.”

With that, the messenger suddenly turned to stone, and crumbled into sand, which fell to the ground, which was then blown away by a gust of wind.

* * * * * * * * * *

A female elf seemed to glide over to talk with Diedra. As was typical of their race, the messenger radiated beauty, the envy of dwarven and human women worldwide.

“Does Maia have another message for me?”

“Yes, my child. You know the task set before you, but you must prove to the other gods that you are worthy. Maia believes in you, but it seems as though the others need more convincing.

“What would you have me do?”

“There will be three people with varying ailments, which you must fully cure, whether by herbs or magic. I will magically transport you to the testing grounds.

“Okay, I am ready.”

There suddenly came a bright light, causing Diedra to close her eyes and turn away. When the light receded, and Diedra opened her eyes, she found herself in a beautiful, dense, vividly green forest. Three streams of light breaking through the trees shone on three humans lying on smooth stone blocks, motionless.

Diedra immediately ran to each person, checking to see which case needed the most attention. One man had a fairly large gash on his left leg, but the bleeding had stopped. The next was a small boy who had a fever, and was vomiting profusely. The last person though was a young woman who was not breathing, but still conscious.

Diedra ran over to a patch of plants she spotted when she arrived. She frantically searched for a flower that had orange petals with yellow edges that fell backwards. She knew this plant to be called Lion’s Mane. While she was over there she decided to get the plants she needed for the small boy to. She quickly found what she needed, a bush called Lover’s Leaf, whose petals looked like hearts. She double checked to see that it was Lover’s Leaf, and not Devil’s Thorn, which looked very similar. Its leaves look like spades. The unfortunate soul who ate Devil’s Thorn would die very soon after the consumption. After cutting a few of the correct specimens from their stems with her belt knife, Diedra rushed back to the woman. She found a mortar and pestle sitting beside the young woman. She swiftly put the Lion’s mane into the mortar, and began grinding the plant with the pestle. When it was ground down to a paste, Diedra poured some water from a flask in her belt pouch. After stirring it up, she poured the mixture down the woman’s throat, and made sure she swallowed it.

She went over to the man to let the Lion’s Mane mixture do its work. No herb or plant that she knew of could cure a wound as grave as this, so she cast a moderate healing spell on the wounds. She watched as the skin seemed to reform anew and knit itself back together. When it stopped, it looked as if nothing had happened to the man at all.

The young boy had stopped vomiting, but was dry heaving, so Diedra gave him a drink of water while she ground up the Lover’s Leaf in the mortar. Using the same process, she made a healing concoction, and made the boy drink it. Lover’s Leaf had a sweet taste, and Diedra had never had problems getting children (or adults for that matter) to take their medicine. She would often add it to other mixtures to make them taste better for her patients. The boy’s fever immediately let up, and Diedra made the boy lay down again to rest some more. She knew that he would be fine after a nap.

When she came back to the woman though, she saw no change in her condition, so she tried forcing air back into her lungs by pressing on her chest. She tried using a variety of spells that she thought would help, but to no avail. If what she had tried so far had not worked, she knew that nothing save a god’s intervention would save this woman.

“There’s nothing else that I can do.”

You’re right, child. There is nothing you can do to help her now. This is was a test, and I hope that you learned that not everyone can be saved.

“I see that now. As much as I would like to help everyone, not everyone can be helped or is willing to be helped.”

You have learned well. Come back to us. Diedra returned the same way she had come, in a flash of light.

“You have passed the test Child of Light, and now you reap the rewards.”

“Child of Light? …I do not understand. Why do you call me this?”

“You know that you were chosen for this mission in your vision, correct? Do you know why you were chosen?”

“No. I figured that the gods had some reason, but it is not my place to question them.”

“You were chosen because you are one of Maia’s terrestrial daughters. Your father was a mortal, yes, but your mother is the goddess of light herself. She sends you a set of amarthine plate mail, a spear with five different spearheads, and a mithril longsword as a gift.”

“I am very grateful, but this is a lot to take in!”

“I know, but see that it does not occupy your mind for too long. You will need to use it soon enough.”

When she stopped speaking, Maia’s messenger burst into a bright yellow light, and when the light dissipated, she was gone.

[Greg]

A nice, fun read, Dave! I especially like how diverse your heroes are. You don't have ten archers or ten brutes with swords, or any stictly stereotypical characters, really. How often does one come across a cat riding a horse throwing javelins and axes, even in literature? Good stuff!

[David]

Thanks Greg, but uhhh...Eogwae is definitely a horse (it says so in the second sentence). The cat rider is in the next chapter.

[Greg]

Thanks Greg, but uhhh...Eogwae is definitely a horse (it says so in the second sentence). The cat rider is in the next chapter.

Oh, I know Eogwae is a horse...the impression I got was that Aengus was a cat-ish like persona, riding a horse. Maybe I said that wrong. Is Aengus human, then? I'm not too well-versed in some of these fancy fantasy words...what exactly is "Felinar", then?

[David]

Felinar is a term I made up to describe the cat-like race in my book. Aengus is like the cat-folk in D&D. Basically an anthropomorphic cat. Sirith (who'll come up in the next chapter) is a Lupraeg. The Lupraeg are anthropomorphic wolves (NOT WEREWOLVES!!) =)

In short: Aengus is a cat-person riding a horse. And Sirith is a wolf-person riding a cat...cool huh?