by Gabe Jones
The Good Man
The Good Man Series: Book One
Gabe Jones
Copyright
© 2016 Gabe Jones. All Rights Reserved.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my amazing family who have always supported my dreams.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Harthwait
Chapter Two: Journey South
Chapter Three: Umard Woods
Chapter Four: Harthwait Aflame
Chapter Five: Greeting of the Dwarves
Chapter Six: Nerngarohm
Chapter Seven: Dawn of War
Chapter Eight: The Belly of the Beast
Chapter Nine: It Must Go On
Chapter Ten: Heemelle
Chapter Eleven: Growing Darkness
Chapter Twelve: Capital Calling
Chapter Thirteen: Voriontu
Chapter Fourteen: Through the Darkness
Chapter Fifteen: Azzed Drar
Chapter Sixteen: Broken Avenger
Chapter Seventeen: No Mercy
Chapter Eighteen: The Light Returns
Chapter Nineteen: Uzdrag
Chapter Twenty: The Nesur Crystal
Chapter Twenty-One: Homeward Bound
Chapter One: Harthwait
“‘Then how shall I become the good man you want me to be?’ asked the young man. ‘That you must find for yourself,’ the king replied. The end,” finished Arkmed.
The people in the tent clapped their hands as the story concluded. Morek was among them. He stood in the back, smiling and applauding along with the others. A shiver ran up his spine, since he was in such close proximity to the chilly tent opening. He moved in closer to allow the heat from the small coal furnace to reach his body.
"Tell another!" shouted one of the children.
Arkmed laughed deeply and said, "Young one, that was the seventh I've told today. Join me tomorrow and maybe I shall tell of the story of the great Emperor Borious."
The tent occupants cheered and applauded again. Morek was definitely going to return, for the story of Borious was his favorite. As a young man, Borious fought on the front line against the Orcs, a vicious race that held the land under tyranny for thousands of years. Borious and his company called themselves Guardians and were masters of magic. The Guardians, along with the the Dwarves of the North and the Elven Kingdom of the Hidden Forest, defeated the Orc forces and made their way to the capital of Voriontu, where they executed the Orc King Tidgud-Nar. Morek always loved to imagine the story and even after hearing it over and over again, he wanted more.
The occupants of the tent began filing out into the cold, late-fall rain. Morek pulled his cloak tightly over his shoulders and departed the tent. It was not unusual for their village to receive this weather in August. Harthwait was a village of humans and part of the Empire just south of the Ekridge Mountain Range. Though the Dwarves had been less active in years past, the Ekridge Dwarves still inhabited the ancient city of Nerngarohm.
Morek would pass a lone Dwarf every once in awhile on the paths of Harthwait. Most would be on their way to the tavern, since alcohol was forbidden at all but special occasions in the Dwarven Kingdom.
He once noticed a Dwarf telling tales in the tavern and went in to listen. He said his name was Durfur, and Morek remembered seeing him around Harthwait before. Like many Dwarves, he was short and rather thick with a long, scraggly beard. He wore bland clothing and always carried an axe “worn from many battles” strapped to his back. Durfur told of his battles of old. He even said that he was part of the war that defeated the Orcs. Though the Dwarf was quite convincing and many believed his stories, Morek perceived his tales to be fictitious.
Morek continued on his trek homeward. Had he known the rain was coming, he would have stayed home. The rain continued pouring onto the earth, soaking the gravel beneath his feet. He almost forgot that he was to get his father's wages from the tavern. His father had been sick for a few days now. Morek turned east toward the squat, two-story building that held Nidel's Tavern and the tavern-master Nidel's loft apartment.
Morek entered the tavern to shouts, cheers, and loud talking. A group of men stood around a small man shouting something about a “great war.” It was none other than Durfur himself! The Dwarf was drunk beyond anything Morek had ever seen. Morek made his way around the group and to the counter.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.
"I'm here to speak with Nidel," Morek replied.
"Of course," the bartender said. "I'll be right back."
He went behind a curtain that led to the back of the tavern. A minute later, he emerged with Nidel behind him.
"Ah!" bellowed Nidel. "Morek, my boy, what brings you to the bar? Finally ready for your first drink?"
Morek had been eligible to drink alcohol for six years, but had yet to taste the substance.
"Not this time, Nidel," Morek chuckled. "My father sent me to receive his last week's pay."
"Of course!" he exclaimed. "That man cannot get over this illness, can he?"
Morek watched as Nidel pulled out his coin purse and removed 10 golden coins, each imprinted with the face of Borious on one side and the number one on the other. Nidel handed him the coins.
"Your father only has one more week before I suspend his pay," Nidel said. "Also, I have a late birthday gift for him."
He handed Morek a package wrapped in paper and tied with string.
"Tell your father I wish him the best."
"I will. Thank you," Morek said, as he left.
The rain was relentless on his mile walk home. His home sat on 25 acres of land with a fully functioning farm. Harvest had already come and gone. Before Morek’s mother died, his father's farm was the most profitable farm of the North Region of the Empire. When she passed, his father let go of several of his workers. These days it was his brother Casaris, his father, and himself working. The tavern was a part-time job for the off-seasons of farming.
Their house was two stories tall. A seating area, a small kitchen, and his father's bedroom were on the lower floor. On the upper floor, Morek and his brother shared a room.
Morek finally reached his home and pushed open the door. The aroma of stew hit him as soon as he entered. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. Casaris held a finger over his lips and pointed to his father's bedroom door. He was asleep. Morek removed his cloak and hung it. He then went and sat to dry by the fire. Casaris poured some stew into a bowl and handed it to him.
"Eat and sleep," Casaris told him. "You must go to Umard Woods tomorrow. Father is beyond home remedies. Get him medicine."
"Umard Woods is two days away," Morek protested.
"He is dying," Casaris replied.
Morek tried to speak, but his words caught in his throat.
"Go to bed," Casaris commanded.
Morek complied and went up to his room. Under the warmth of his blanket, he dreamed of the battles the Guardians fought and wished he was one too.
Chapter Two: Journey South
Morek awoke the next morning to find sunlight streaming through the window. The rain had ceased overnight, allowing the sun to break through the clouds. Casaris stripped the bed sheets from Morek’s body. The cold loft air enveloped him and he shivered.
"Why do I have to go to Umard Woods?" Morek asked, putting on his day clothes and packing his things.
"Morek," Casaris began, "I thought you were mature enough to understand. You do not know how to care for Father. I must stay here and care for him. Follow the Southern Road, and the trip will be fine."
Morek packed his hunting knife, two loaves of bread, two apples, a flask of water, and the coin pu
rse to buy the medicine. When he arrived downstairs, Casaris handed him a bowl of oats and a folded piece of paper.
"Give the paper to Simun," Casaris explained. "He will grant you his horse."
Morek ate the oats and stuck the paper in his pocket. When he finished his breakfast, he pushed open his father's bedroom door and looked inside. His father looked horrible. His wrinkled face was pale and he appeared very weak. Morek whispered ‘goodbye’ and gently shut the door. He pulled on his cloak and faced his brother.
"Good luck, Morek," Casaris said. "May you be well on your journey."
Morek thanked him and left the farm. He had time to think on his way to Simun. ‘What if the medicine didn't work?’ he wondered. ‘What if the bandits of the forests caught him?’ Then, the words of his brother echoed in his head: "He is dying." Even if he couldn't save his father, he had to try.
Morek reached Simun’s horse farm right outside of the central village. Simun was an extraordinary horse breeder. His horses were said to be sold for thousands of coins. Legend had it that Borious himself rode a horse bred by Simun's father. Morek hoped that the note would provide Simun all the convincing he needed to loan him a strong horse. He entered the stable to find Simun tending to one of his prized steeds.
"Morek!" Simun exclaimed. "I haven't seen you since the Summer Festival!"
"Hello, Simun," Morek said.
"Where is Casaris?" he asked.
"He's at home with my ill father," Morek told him. "He told me to give you this."
Morek handed over Casaris's note. Simun stood reading it for a few minutes. He nodded and stuck the paper in his pocket.
"Hold on," he said.
He went around back and brought out a Vernek Horse, a breed of his own design. The huge black horse stood tall over Simun.
"Her name is Juniper," Simun explained. "She's quite a prize to me. I want her back."
"I will bring her back in one week," Morek told him. "Thank you so much."
"Good luck, Morek," Simun said. "May the people of Umard Woods save your father."
Morek hung his bag to the saddle and mounted the horse. Simun led it out of the stable to the gravel road.
"Ya!" Morek shouted, as he whipped the reins.
The horse took off faster than Morek could believe. He rode through acres and acres of farmland in what seemed like moments. The forests lied at the end of the stretch of land. From a hilltop on the riding path, it looked like the forest went on forever. Morek hoped he might reach Umard Woods by midday with the speed of Juniper.
They continued out of the farms of Harthwait and into the woods of the Middle Region. Many cities sat within this forest, including the capital. Umard Woods was a highly visited city and only about a four-day ride by horse from the capital. If you were taking the Southern Road, it was impossible to reach the capital without passing through Umard Woods.
The sun began to set on the day. Beautiful oranges, reds, and golds painted the sky. Clouds reflected the light, turning them into colorful cotton. Eventually the sun left the sky as its white companion entered it, and the world plunged into darkness.
Morek pulled off the road, jumped off Juniper, and led her into the woods. He tied off Juniper and quickly built a fire. At the pace they were going, Morek thought he might make it to Umard Woods before noon the next day. Morek ate an apple and half a loaf of bread while looking up into the night sky. Stars painted the heavens as he prepared to lie down.
"Goodnight," he whispered to Juniper, as he fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, he awoke to birds singing and the sun climbing over the trees. Morek needed to leave quickly if he wanted to reach Umard Woods by midday. He ate the rest of the bread loaf and repacked his bag.
Morek led Juniper to the road and mounted her. With that, they were off again. He only passed one other passenger on the road while traveling to Umard Woods. He looked to be an Elf, from his stature. He was tall and slender and carried the Elves’ signature weapon, a bow. He and his white stallion quickly rode North when Morek reached the perimeter of the city.
He finally reached the great city of Umard Woods. Morek had only been once before as a baby, according to his father. The city was huge, far bigger than Harthwait. Most of the buildings were tall and striking. The streets were dotted with the beautiful, dark brown trees from which the city got its name. Umard Woods was a bustle of activity with people racing from one building to another. Morek slowed Juniper to a walking speed. A sign ahead pointed to a horse stable that offered horse keeping for 2 coins a day. He hopped off the horse and led her to the stable just off the road.
"Welcome to Umard Horse Stables!" said one of the caretakers. "Would you like to leave your horse with us?"
"I would," Morek replied.
"That's two coins," he replied. "What's its name?"
Morek removed his bag from the saddle and pulled out the coin purse. "Her name is Juniper," Morek answered, while handing him the money and Juniper's lead.
"Enjoy Umard Woods!" said the caretaker.
Chapter Three: Umard Woods
Morek walked back onto the main road of Umard Woods. He weaved around people and carts, inadvertently bumping into them and being bumped himself over and over again. Harthwait, even with its sizeable population, was much quieter and less crowded than this city. Morek spotted a building with a sign reading "Inn" hanging from it. If anyone knew where to find someone to cure his father, the innkeeper would be the one.
He stepped off the street and through the door of the inn. Inside was a quaint sitting area with a counter in the back. Behind the counter was a elderly, frail-looking woman.
"Welcome to Lunaris Inn," she said quietly. "How can I help you?"
"Hello, ma'am," Morek said. "I am Morek of Harthwait. I have come in search of medicine for my ill father."
"You seek medicine?" she asked. "Well, Steris might be able to help."
"Steris?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "She is one of the wizards that taught the Guardians. She has strong healing abilities."
"Where can I find her?" Morek asked eagerly.
"She lives in the smallest house in town," the woman explained. "It's on the other side of the city if you follow the main road. Know this: she only allows into her home those who she believes have worthy causes."
"Thank you," Morek said. He left the inn.
Morek returned to the road with the sun high over his head. The noon bell of a clock tower rung. He pulled out his last apple and began to eat it. It took a while to cross the town to Steris's home. Umard Woods was a huge city. Homes, taverns, eateries, and businesses lined the road. Signs advertised food, spices, special cloths from far away lands, and weaponry Morek had never even seen before. A beautiful fountain sat in the center of the town and many market stalls surrounded it. Morek suddenly found himself drawn to the sweet smell of something. He followed the smell to a young girl in a stall selling pastries.
"One, please," Morek said.
"A half coin, please," she said.
Morek handed one of the gold coins over in exchange for a small silver coin.
"Thank you," she said, handing him the pastry.
He bit into the sweet bread. Sugar wasn't common in Harthwait, so when they got it, it was a delicacy. The sweet bread was laced with an apple flavor. He finished his treat and continued walking. Morek passed more shops and houses on the road.
Finally, he reached the small cottage at the end of town. A wrought-iron fence rusted with age encircled the cottage. The grass was overgrown, except for a garden filled with plants he had never seen before. The house looked to be in disrepair, as though it had not been lived in for years. Morek walked through the archway of the fence into the yard. He trailed the stone path to the door. Morek knocked. A tall, young woman with long, black hair came out.
"Can I help you?" she asked in a soothing voice.
"I am Morek of Harthwait," he told her. "I am seeking the healer, Steris."
"I am her,"
the woman explained.
Morek was taken aback. "You are Steris?" he asked.
"Yes," Steris said. "Why does this puzzle you?"
"You look so young for a woman who fought alongside the Guardians," Morek told her.
"I'm a wizard," she smirked.
"That explains it," Morek said.
"What do you request?"
"My father, he... he is very ill," Morek answered, his voice catching in his throat. A few tears slipped from his eyes, and he brushed them away.
"You feel pain," Steris said. "Great pain. I don't help people often, but something is definitely different about you. What did you say your name was?"
"Morek," he told her.
"Your name has two different translations," Steris explained. "In your language it means 'Our Savior,' but the Orc translation is 'Our Destruction.' I hope you are the savior. I shall heal your father."
She opened the door and gestured for him to enter. On the inside, the cottage wasn't small at all. It was much bigger than it appeared from the outside.
"Magic," she said.
Steris grabbed a bag and began packing.
"What are you doing?" Morek asked.
"Packing for Harthwait," she said.
"You can't just give me a remedy?" he asked.
"I do not know your father's condition, and I don't believe you do either," Steris explained.
Morek allowed her to continue packing. He then followed her out of the door and onto the path. Steris began walking South.
"Harthwait is North," he said.
"I know," she said. "Follow me."
Morek sighed and followed. They exited the city and walked through the woods. The sun began to set as they turned off the road and into the trees. They reached a clearing with a circle made of stones in its center. From her satchel, Steris retrieved an item that looked like a claw.
"An Orc claw," she said.
She whispered a few unintelligible words, and the claw began to glow blue. She threw the claw into the middle of the stones. A blue whirlpool swirled around in the stones. Steris held out her hand. Morek took it. Together they jumped in the whirlpool.
