The Sword of Light: Book One of the Veredor Chronicles

by E J Gilmour

  ‘Really, I’m searching for someone who can help me find...’ Eben had to dodge quickly to avoid getting hit once again. He was almost at the door.

  ‘Please stop swinging that thing. Listen to me for a moment! I need to find someone called Lady Kaloren,’ he shouted. A moment later the old man stopped and looked at him curiously.

  ‘Lady Kaloren,’ he muttered and raised his thick white eyebrows. ‘Why do you want to find her?’

  ‘I believe she may know who my parents are,’ replied Eben. ‘Do you know who she is?’

  The old man nodded slightly and turned around; he walked back into the gloomy library. It seemed to Eben he wasn’t going to answer. ‘I must find her.’

  ‘You won’t find her in Ancora,’ said the old man as he continued to walk away. ‘Lady Kaloren is a famous Everdonian from the Western Lands beyond the Iron Gate Pass. She was a brave warrior. She fought in many wars.’

  ‘Everdonian. What’s that?’

  ‘Everdon is a kingdom,’ said the old man with a patronising tone.

  ‘What about someone called Carlin, have you heard of him?’

  The old man froze in his tracks and glanced back over his shoulder. ‘What do you know about Carlin?’ He turned around and started to walk back toward Eben; his piercing blue eyes staring intently.

  ‘Nothing really; all I know is that he may be able to help me find my parents.’

  ‘Who are your parents?’ asked the old man, his curiosity increasing.

  ‘I don’t know. I’m searching for some answers; that’s why I came to Ancora. You seem to know Carlin; can you tell me where I can find him?’

  ‘I did know him once. He served King Ignis. Unfortunately Carlin died many years ago, so you can’t find him,’ said the old man, staring down at the ground solemnly.

  ‘He died?’ murmured Eben, feeling dismayed at the news.

  ‘Yes, I heard, years ago, that he was killed by a monster that had been terrorising the coastal people north of Ancora. He wasn’t Ortarian. He was a knight from a distant western land.’

  ‘Why was he in Ortaria?’

  ‘I don’t know why,’ said the old man, shaking his head. ‘However, I do know someone who may have some answers for you. Her name is Torela; I think she knew Carlin. I vaguely remember seeing them together in the old days. She lives in a house near the north gate. I will sketch the directions for you.’

  The old man took charcoal and some parchment from his pocket and quickly scribbled down directions.

  ‘Thanks for your help,’ said Eben gratefully.

  ‘You’re welcome. I should also warn you there is mandatory conscription for every Ortarian man between sixteen and forty. The King is sending all the young men out west to the Iron Gate Pass, and only those who have permission from the crown can remain in Ancora. No one really knows why he is doing it. These are perilous times we live in; you should be careful because you may be forced to join the army and find yourself on your way out to Galdir.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice,’ said Eben.

  ‘And one last thing,’ said the old man. ‘I’m sorry for my haste in trying to drive you away; most of the time the only people who visit the library are thieves looking for something to steal. Once, only a few years ago, I was the Chief Royal Librarian, and this was one of the finest libraries in Veredor. Now I am homeless and living out my days frightened for my own safety.’ The old librarian stared vacantly at the ransacked shelves and drew a long breath.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. I hope you can rebuild the library one day,’ said Eben, seeing clearly that the man was truly devastated by the way his life had turned out.

  ‘That day won’t come until King Ignis comes to his senses and ends all this insanity,’ said the old man.

  A moment later he shuffled about nervously, realising he was probably saying too much and that he shouldn’t be talking about the King in such a way to a stranger. ‘Goodbye and good luck young man,’ he said as he turned away and closed the library door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Eben walked toward the north gate and found his way to a long and narrow laneway that cut away to the south. There were piles of debris and waste everywhere. The laneway was especially gloomy because the buildings on either side had high walls and very little light entered from above. He weaved his way through whilst searching for the red door. At the far end he found what he was looking for. The door was set in a very grimy stone building with no windows facing the laneway.

  A black cat leapt off a ledge and knocked over some empty bottles; they fell to the ground and smashed, shattering the gloomy silence. Eben was feeling edgy; the mood of the place was oppressive.

  He knocked three times and waited. Nothing happened. He knocked again. A small sliding hatch opened and an angry looking eye stared out at him from the other side.

  ‘Who are you and what do you want?’ asked a deep grumbling voice of a man.

  ‘My name is Eben, I’m looking for Torela. I was told she lives here.’ There was a short silence and the man shut the hatch abruptly.

  ‘Go away stranger!’ he yelled aggressively.

  Eben knocked again. ‘Please, I need to talk to her. She’s the only one who can help me.’ A few moments silently passed. The door burst open and a hulk of a man stood pointing an oversized crossbow at him.

  ‘Don’t move!’ shouted the man as he glared down at Eben. Eben took a step back and then stood completely still. The man standing in the doorway was the biggest man Eben had ever seen in his whole life. He had deep lines in his forehead, black curly hair, and arms like tree trunks. An instant later a woman with a gentle face stepped into view from around the corner of the door. Her long hair was light brown with streaks of grey, and her eyes were remarkably turquoise blue. She wore a simple long green dress and brown leather boots. It was difficult for Eben to guess her age, but he thought she was at least forty. She studied Eben for a few moments and then glanced up to the huge man.

  ‘Torg, be still, he means us no harm.’ She seemed kind and peaceful in complete contrast with the fuming giant standing by her side. ‘I am Torela and this is Torg. What do you want from us?’

  Eben instantly felt reassured by her. She had a sense of peace that seemed to push the gloominess away; he had a feeling she could be trusted. She also had a strange accent that he had never heard before.

  ‘My name is Eben. I was told that you knew Carlin when he was alive. I need to ask you some questions about him if you have time?’

  She stared at him and pondered what he had just said. ‘Yes, I did know him. What is your association to him?’

  ‘I came to Ancora looking for him. I went to the library. An old man there told me that he had died years ago. I hoped to find him because he may have known my parents.’ She nodded slightly in response and watched him for a few moments. She appeared to be contemplating what she should do next.

  ‘You should come in out of the cold,’ said Torela, directing him inside and into a long hallway that led to the back of the house. Eben stepped in, and Torg slammed the door behind them, bolting it solidly with two large steel latches. Torela led Eben down the hallway which opened into a large room. The room was full of exotic luxurious goods: rich carpet covered the floors, the couches were draped in silk, and beautiful artworks adorned the walls. The room didn’t have a single window and was lit entirely by candlelight. On the far side a staircase ascended to the second level. There was also a door to their right that led into a kitchen area.

  ‘It’s a beautiful house,’ said Eben, his eyes glancing around the room.

  ‘Thank you, Eben. Please take a seat.’ Torela directed him to a comfortable cushioned chair. He sat down and she sat in the chair opposite him.

  ‘Eben, you said that Carlin may have known your parents. What can you tell me about this?’

  ‘I was hoping you could tell me something because I really don’t know much at all,’ replied Eben as he took the parchment letter f
rom his pocket and handed it to her. She opened the letter and read it to herself. Eben saw her eyes widen as she read; she looked up at him and stared directly into his eyes for several moments. She then glanced at the sword that was latched to his belt.

  ‘Your sword, is it the same sword mentioned in the letter?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied.

  ‘May I have a look?’ He nodded and handed the sword to her. She unsheathed the blade. ‘This sword is ancient. I never expected that I would ever come to hold the Ecorian Sword in my own hands.’ She studied the blade and hilt closely for at least a minute.

  ‘What do you know about the sword?’ asked Eben, very curious to know what she was implying.

  ‘I know it once belonged to the emperors of the Ecorian Empire.’

  ‘But why do I have it, and why did Carlin hide me away in a remote hill village?’

  ‘I don’t know why,’ replied Torela, handing the sword back to him. ‘However, I know that Carlin had many secrets that he never told. He never told me about you or the sword.’

  ‘Who exactly was Carlin?’

  ‘He was not from Ortaria. He came from Iarthar, a land far in the west of Veredor. He was a member of an ancient order of knights, and he was a noble warrior who worked tirelessly to protect the lands from evil.’ She paused for a moment and stared at Eben. ‘I think you should not have come to Ancora. This city is living under a terrible curse; you are not safe here. ’

  ‘I know we are living in dark and dangerous times, but I came because I needed answers.’

  ‘I understand your desire to find the answers you seek. I’m sure everything has a purpose, and I know that you have come at this particular time for a reason. I’m not sure what your purpose is yet.’ She cast her eyes down at the sword. ‘Every warrior who ever carried that sword fought for the good of all the people of Veredor.’ Her voice was calm and strong. Eben could feel in his heart that she spoke the truth. He looked down at the sword.

  ‘I want to help the people of Ortaria,’ said Eben, feeling a sense of conviction rise through his body. She stared at him for a little while as if she could read his thoughts.

  ‘Tomorrow there will be a meeting here at sunset. You may find some more answers if you come. You may also find that there are ways you can help the people of Ortaria.’

  ‘I will come,’ said Eben, eager to learn what he could do to help.

  ‘Do you have a place to stay?’

  ‘I’m staying with some friends at a closed down inn near the docks called The Sea Dragon.’

  ‘Eben, you must be careful, this city has danger lurking around every corner.’

  **

  It was a rarity to see people out on the streets after dark in Ancora. Only vagrants, vagabonds, and other unsavoury characters would dare go out at night. There was a good reason to be cautious as many unsuspecting folk would simply disappear into the darkness never to be heard of again. Of course there was an argument to be made that the streets were actually safer at night simply because there were fewer people around. Either way the streets of Ancora were not safe at the best of times.

  Early in the evening a pair of evil eyes caught sight of something peculiar. Anyone else may have thought that a young man passing by wearing a worn leather cloak was simply one of the many vagrants making a living from the misery of the townsfolk. But a glimmer of hope, like light in the darkness, lit up the murky street, and a darkened heart for a moment caught a glimpse of its own frozen state and felt powerless.

  Eben walked back along the main road toward The Sea Dragon. It was getting late and he thought it best to hurry. He passed by the palace and continued to walk toward the docks. Rounding a corner he saw a hooded man mounted on a large black warhorse. The darkness and gloom seemed to accumulate around the rider. Slowing his pace, he looked up as he passed by, attempting to appear inconspicuous. The rider’s dark eyes stared directly at Eben; most of his face was shrouded by the shadow of his hood. For a few moments they made eye contact. Eben felt a shiver rise up his spine. He glanced away and continued along the far side of the road and passed by without incident. He quickened his pace and looked back over his shoulder to see the rider hadn’t moved.

  A few minutes later Eben arrived at the inn and he knocked three times on the door. It was an icy evening and a cold gale was blowing in from the sea.

  ‘Who’s there?’ asked Stella a few moments later.

  ‘Eben,’ he replied in a shivering voice.

  She opened the door and smiled as she ushered him in out of the cold.

  Red appeared from the bar with a smile on his face. ‘We were starting to worry about you. I’m glad to see you’re all right. Come over and have a warm glass of ale.’ Eben followed them over to the bar and took a seat.

  ‘Did you find any news about your parents?’ asked Stella as Red poured him a mug of ale.

  ‘No,’ replied Eben. ‘But I did learn a few things about my past.’ Red handed him the ale. ‘I found the library you told me about. It is in a state of ruin. I met an old man who was once the librarian there. He directed me on to a wise woman who lives near the north gate. She knew Carlin, the one who sent me to Clemensdale when I was very young, although she had never heard of me. She also seems to know what’s going on in Ortaria. I’m going to meet her again tomorrow night.’

  Stella raised her eyebrows and gave Eben a troubled look. ‘You should be careful who you trust. Don’t get involved in anything that’s plotting against King Ignis unless you want to get yourself killed.’

  ‘She’s right,’ agreed Red, nodding soberly. ‘Everyone knows the reason we have these troubles is because the King doesn’t care for the people anymore. Nobody likes the King; anyone and everyone who has tried to do something has been thrown in the dungeon or executed for treason.’

  ‘Surely something needs to be done,’ said Eben.

  Red took another sip of his ale. ‘True, something does need to be done, but it’s probably best left to other people.’

  **

  Eben found his way back to Torela’s house late the following day. The sun was setting sooner than he expected, and he was rushing because he was running late. He arrived at the laneway and quickly approached the red doorway. It was a little after sunset. A moment later the door opened.

  ‘You’re late,’ grumbled Torg in his deep burly voice.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Eben, stepping into the hallway.

  ‘They’re all down there,’ added Torg, pointing toward the room beyond the hall. Torg then closed and bolted the door.

  Eben walked down the hall and came to the large furnished room. A group of about twenty people were seated in a semicircle. They were facing the far side where Torela was standing and speaking to them.

  ‘....all of you have heard the rumours and have seen what is happening in Ancora. You know the darkness continues to grow.’ She looked to Eben and directed him to a seat as she spoke. ‘Each one of you is here because you are concerned. Each one of you is here because you care for the people of Ortaria and you want to see an end to all the villainy and evil.’

  ‘How can we do anything if King Ignis won’t listen to the people? Years ago he cared for us, and now he refuses to hear our cries for help,’ said a man in response.

  Torela nodded and paused for a moment before speaking, ‘True, he doesn’t listen. He refuses to give audience to anyone. He seems to have changed and hardened. He once was a much loved and honourable man. Three years ago everything changed, and for a long time there has been no explanation or reason. No one has known why, but tonight I believe you will learn the truth,’ she said, and her words stunned the people. ‘I want to introduce to you a young man named Cassiel. He was once a student of the magic academy on the island of Zyran. You will want to hear what he has to say.’

  A tall and handsome young man stood up and walked over to stand beside Torela. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and was wearing a long brown coat. Cassiel held his chin high and his shoulder
s back and had a certain sense of pride about him. He had carefree dark hair, dark eyes, and a fair complexion.

  ‘Thank you, Torela,’ he said and she took a seat. He looked down at the group seated before him and cleared his throat before speaking. ‘For you to understand what I have to tell you I first must inform you of a few details about myself and also about the Citadel of Zyran. Firstly about myself: I was once an apprentice at the Magic Academy of Zyran. Seven years ago I began my training; many of you know such training is rigorous and takes over a decade to complete. Honestly, I was never a talented wizard; nevertheless, I always worked hard and committed myself to the study of magic, and in my first year or two it was a pleasure to learn.’

  Cassiel scanned the faces of the group and for a moment he glanced at Eben. He drew a long breath before continuing. ‘And secondly, what many of you probably don’t know is that beneath the Citadel of Zyran there is a dungeon where the Zyranian Order keeps only the most dangerous prisoners. The dungeon is the home of rogue sorcerers, tyrants, and other evil individuals. The prison is bound by an ancient and very mysterious enchantment which makes the stone and hewn rock impenetrable. There is no way to break in, and it’s impossible to break out. The only way in and out of the dungeon is through the main prison gate and a single corridor that leads down into the dungeon. The only way to open the dungeon gate and the cell doors is by using a magical key which is held by the Gatekeeper of Zyran.’

  He paused for a moment, catching his breath. The group was listening intently.

  ‘The dungeon door is guarded at all times by two wizards of the academy. About three years ago I was placed on guard, which I might add is a particularly tedious job. Late that night, when I was nearing the end of my watch, I was approached by two wizards who were leading a man. The man’s face was covered by a cloth sack. It’s not unusual to see wizards in Zyran, especially within the grounds of the Citadel, but these two were two of the most important wizards on the island. Baltac at the time was the second in command of the Zyranian Order, and Trebax was and still is the Gatekeeper of Zyran. You also know that Baltac is now the High Commander of the Zyranian Order and the Lord of Zyran. I wondered why the prisoner’s face was hidden. As they came back up from the deep I overhead Baltac say that Ortaria was defenceless now that the fool was locked away.’