by Gabe Jones
In an instant, Morek and Steris were on their backs in a circle of stones similar to the one in which they had just jumped.
"We're a short walk from Harthwait," Steris said, sitting up. "Let's go."
Chapter Four: Harthwait Aflame
Morek and Steris were back to the farm by the time the moon rose over trees. Candlelight shone through the windows. Morek pushed open the door and looked inside. Casaris was nowhere to be found. The fire had not been lit.
"Casaris," Morek whispered sharply. There was no response. "Where is he?"
"The room adjacent to this," Steris said. “I feel the presence of another.”
Morek opened the door to his father's room. Inside, Casaris sat weeping next to a still, lifeless form of his father. Morek joined his brother and stood beside him. He was too late.
"I am sorry," Morek said.
Beginning to break down, he kneeled by his brother. They quietly wept together with nothing but the winds of the night breaking their mourning. Morek did not know how long he knelt by the bedside. Eventually, Steris spoke.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said. "From what I can see, your father had a rare form of blood disease. If found early, it could have been treated. No ordinary man could have helped him though."
"Thank you for coming," Morek told her. "I am very sorry to waste your time."
"Waste my time?" Steris asked. "Our time has just begun."
She pulled out her wand and began an incantation. The wand started to glow blue. She cast the blue light over their father; it wrapped around him before becoming invisible.
"What did you do to him?" Morek asked.
"I cast a spell of preservation over him," Steris explained. "There could still be a way to save your father from death."
"How?" Casaris asked, a new light in his eyes.
"During the first hours, the spirit begins moving from the body into the afterlife. The spell I have put on him keeps his spirit trapped here until we find it.”
"It?” wondered Morek.
"The Nesur Crystal. It is said by legend to be able to restore the spirit to the body."
"Really? How do we find it?"
"Well, that's the problem. The Crystal is hidden deep within the Orc Empire. We have to-" Steris was cut off by the sounds of screaming. "I did not think they would find me so quickly," she said.
"Who would find you?" Casaris asked.
"During my time with the Guardians, the Great Split of the wizards came upon us. Many of us stayed and fought for good. But for some, the magic overwhelmed their spirits. The Dark Lords of myth are real. Some slipped away into solitude, some went mad, and some followed the Orcs even after they were defeated. Diroqrax was the strongest that joined with the Orcs. He gave them the Nesur Crystal. If he's here..."
More screams erupted from outside. A bright light shined through the window: fire!
"Steris!" Morek shouted, awakening her from her daze. "We have to help them!"
"Of course," Steris said. "Casaris, you must stay and protect your father. I shall cast a protection spell upon this house."
"I will stay," Casaris agreed. "Morek, find that crystal at whatever the cost. I have something for you."
Casaris pulled a long, flat box out from under the bed. He flipped open the latch and pushed open the lid. Inside was a sword wrapped with cloths. He unwrapped them to reveal a beautifully crafted steel, hand-and-a-half sword. The hilt was wrapped in leather. Its blade was inscribed with ancient symbols and intricate designs.
"A Guardian Sword," Steris whispered. "Where did your father get that?"
Casaris turned to her. "My father was of the Guardian Knights. He was one of the few knights that survived. Afterward, he became a farmer and moved here to Harthwait."
"How is it he survived this long?" Morek asked.
"Anyone who fought with the Guardians had a prolonged life," Steris explained.
"I cannot believe Father was a Guardian Knight," Morek said.
"I barely believed it myself, the first time," Casaris told him.
Steris look at both of them. "One of you has within you the same abilities as your father. A knight possessed the combat abilities of a Guardian, but not the magic. The designs of the sword glow blue when touched by a Guardian."
Casaris held the sword in his hands and awaited the glow. Nothing happened. He handed the sword to Morek. The blue light started in the hilt and moved upwards toward the tip of the blade through the twists and turns of the design. Morek stood dumbfounded for a moment. There was a crash outside that made him snap out of it.
"Go, Morek," Casaris commanded. "Be the Guardian you were chosen to be."
Morek nodded and walked outside with Steris at his heels. In the distance, the central village was aflame. As they ran toward it, Steris taught him a few spells he could use to strengthen his sword's power. When they reached the village they learned not only was Diroqrax there, but Orcs were setting fire to buildings.
"I will find Diroqrax," Steris said. "Destroy those Orcs."
Morek ran through the streets of Harthwait until he came across his first Orc. The beast was two feet taller than him, wearing traditional battle armor made of Dragon bones. It yelled at him in an unintelligible language and charged. Morek did not know what to do, so he held out his sword, shouted a spell, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, all that lie in front of him were the flames and a pile of black dust. He suddenly felt tired, as though the life had been drained out of him.
He made his way to the town square. People of the village were being rounded up there. Hovering above it all was a man with dark robes.
‘Diroqrax,’ Morek thought.
Orcs began beheading the village people. Morek pointed his sword at Diroqrax and shouted the incantation. Nothing happened. Next thing he knew, he was being lifted up into the air and brought closer to Diroqrax. Morek tried shouting the spell again. Again, nothing happened.
"That sword," boomed a deep, gravelly voice. "A Guardian. You are a Guardian." He laughed maniacally. It echoed through the silence. Diroqrax pulled the sword out of Morek's hand.
"I like to kill with honor," he continued. "To slay you by your own sword will be most honorable." The Orcs screamed and laughed at this.
"Drop him!" shouted a female voice. Steris flew toward them and stopped a few feet away.
Diroqrax grinned. "Steris, it has been quite a time since we last met. I was just waiting to find the last of the wizards."
"Settled down for a while," she said. "I found a way of life that did not involve magic. I did not fall into the darkness it brings, like you did."
Morek was dropped to the ground, where his head hit the hard cobblestone. He watched as Steris fought, and the world faded into black.
Chapter Five: Greeting of the Dwarves
Morek woke swaddled in blankets. The light of torches bathed the stone room in an orange glow. The only things in the room seemed to be the bed he occupied and a chest. There were no windows and only a dark, wooden door.
He seemed to be alone. He began to move and was halted by a pounding ache in his head. He did not know how long he had slept. The last thing he remembered was being clutched in Diroqrax's grip. He lay back and drifted off once again.
When he woke later, Steris was there. A chair had been brought in and she was sitting in it, reading a book.
"Steris," he groaned.
"Morek!" she exclaimed. "You are awake. They did not know if you would survive."
"Diroqrax... is he dead?" Morek asked.
"Far from it. I barely escaped with you. We flew here."
"Here?"
"Nerngarohm, home of the Ekridge Dwarves.”
Morek was a month's travel from home. "Can you fly again?" he asked Steris.
"Not without a Dragon or Wayward Wings. That was the last pair of Wings I owned, and the Dwarves do not have any."
The door opened. A small man stepped in. He hit his breastplate with his fist and bowed to Steris and Mo
rek.
"Why are you bowing?" Morek asked.
"You are Guardians," he answered. "I am in your debt."
"I have not done anything," Morek said to him.
"Yet," said the Dwarf, "You shall defeat the Orcs that are besieging us."
"What?" Morek asked.
"I forgot to mention that one," Steris said, flashing a smile.
"Let us leave him to dress," the Dwarf said. He beckoned to Steris.
They left, closing the door. Morek lifted off the blankets, exposing his bare body to the coolness of the stone room. When he put his feet on the ground, it felt like he was stepping on ice. He made his way to the chest and opened it. Inside was a tunic, trousers, a cloak, and leather boots. Morek put them on and exited the room.
He stepped into a long hallway with doors on either side. Not knowing which direction to go, he turned right and walked. He reached another intersection and this time heard noises from the left. Morek followed the noises to a pathway that lined the inside of a mountain. Shouts, banging, and clanging came from the main city at the base of the inside of the mountain. The pathway spiraled down to the city at the center of the mountain, with similar openings leading to other parts of it.
Morek began moving down to the city. Most Dwarves were miners and Nerngarohm was one of their many mining cities. Below the city lay miles and miles of tunnels and mines, bringing up the most precious of gems and minerals.
Morek finally finished his descent. He stood at the gigantic stone gate that opened to the main city. The pillars of the gate were sculpted into statues of a male and female Dwarf, most likely the first family of the city. Behind him, a tunnel led to another gate in the mountainside. He walked into the city and found a huge marketplace. Most Dwarves were selling gems they found, while others sold mining equipment. This marketplace surrounded the main buildings: temples, churches, royal palaces, noble homes, and the castle.
The Dwarves had several different religions ranging from a belief that the mountains spawned the rest of the earth to one that a singular god ruled in the heavens above. Morek had not settled upon any of the religions of the region. If a deity was looking over everyone, he had not noticed.
The city buildings were beautiful. The wood was elegantly designed. Morek passed many Dwarves on his way to the castle. They all looked strange to him. Many whispered to each other. Some saluted in the same manner as the Dwarf in his room. He finally found the castle right in the middle of the city. Its tall doors were opened for him. Inside stood Steris and the Dwarf that was with her previously.
"Morek!" Steris said, hurrying to him. "Where have you been? The coronation is taking place soon."
"Whose coronation?" Morek asked.
"Why yours, of course!" bellowed the Dwarf. "I am Erinonlir Greatfeet, your guide during your time in Nerngarohm. Let us get your armor on."
He grabbed Morek's arm and pulled him into another room. Steris stayed behind. A silver alloy suit of armor lay on the table. Its appearance seemed to match his sword.
"Step up on the platform," Erinonlir said. “We made this armor specially for you.”
Morek did as he was commanded. The Dwarf dressed him in the very heavy battle armor. He then handed Morek his sheathed sword. Morek clipped it to his belt.
"Proceed through that door and down the aisle," Erinonlir instructed. "The king will knight you and officially make you a Guardian."
Morek stepped off the platform and exited through the door. In the adjacent room was an expansive Great Hall. Jewels mined from the depths below sparkled and shined in the walls as the torch light flickered. The king's army bowed row by row as Morek proceeded down the walkway. He reached the king and knelt before him.
"Morek of Harthwait, by the decree of the eldest Guardians, you must swear an oath to uphold the moral justice, peace, and power granted by your position and promise protection to your allies against any enemy that might rise against them," the king said. "Do you swear to do these?"
"I do," Morek replied.
"Then by the power vested in me by the grace of our gods, the power of the Wizard Steris, and the eldest of the Guardians, Emperor Borious, I call you Guardian," the king declared.
The king removed his sword and touched it to Morek's shoulders. He handed the sword to Morek; as soon as he held it, the blue glow moved up the blade. Morek turned and thrusted the sword into the air. The Dwarves cheered.
He turned and looked at Steris. She smiled proudly. It reminded Morek of the look his father gave him when he accomplished something great, the smile and the sparkling eyes. He loved that look.
The Dwarves began to sing. The anthem was in their native language, but Morek deciphered some of it.
"Proudly we stand... the rock, the mountain, our foundation... we look to them for deliverance. We look to them for peace," they sang.
Pride filled his heart. Morek walked forward with Steris by his side. They stepped out of the castle to be greeted by more celebratory Dwarves. Steris led him to a nearby building.
"This is your palace for the time being," Steris said. "I will be close if you need me."
He opened the door and was greeted by none other than Durfur.
"You?" Morek asked, dumbfounded.
"You're that boy from Harthwait!" Durfur exclaimed. "You are the Guardian?"
"Yes," Morek said. "And you are not the warrior your stories say you are?"
"I used to be," he replied. "I was discharged for a drinking problem. Now I am a palace assistant."
Morek chuckled. Durfur leaned in closer. "You would not happen to have any drinks on you, would you?" he asked.
"Sorry, but no," Morek replied, grinning. "Now will you help me out of this suit and run me a bath?"
"As you wish," Durfur said sarcastically.
Chapter Six: Nerngarohm
Morek awoke the next morning to the smell of food drifting up from downstairs. He rung a bell to summon Durfur.
"Good morning, Lord Morek," sighed Durfur. "Shall I run you a bath?"
"Yes, please," Morek said.
"As you wish," he replied halfheartedly.
Morek slipped into a warm bath and washed himself. He then put on his clothes and went downstairs. Breakfast was set at the table: eggs, toast, and a piece of meat with a glass of water. Durfur pulled out his chair. Morek sat down and began to eat.
"When you finish, I am to escort you to Lady Steris to begin your training," Durfur said.
"Training?" Morek asked with his mouth full of eggs.
"You really believe you can defeat Orcs with the little you know?" Durfur said. "I trained from 14 to 21 years of age before I joined our army."
"I do not think I will have that much training time," Morek replied.
"You will have as much as you can," Durfur said darkly.
Morek finished his food and clipped on his sword.
"Ready?" Durfur asked.
Morek nodded.
"By the way," Durfur went on, "You are kind of a celebrity here. Guardians rank even higher than our king. You will have tons of people who want to meet you. Keep your head straight, smile, and wave."
Durfur opened the door, and what he said came true. The Dwarves cheered at the sight of Morek. Morek smiled and waved as he followed Durfur. They walked through the main gate and back behind the main city. There, they came to what seemed to be a training ground. Tons of Dwarves were training.
"There are usually more than this, but many of them are at the gate just in case the Orcs find a way in," Durfur explained.
As they passed, the Dwarves saluted Morek, pounding their breastplates.
"You have your own corner of the training grounds. Steris, General Khuddim, and myself will assist in your training," Durfur told him.
"You're going to assist?" Morek scoffed.
"I told you, I was in the army once," Durfur said, sounding a bit hurt.
They finally reached Steris and Khuddim. Steris curtsied and Khuddim pounded his breastplate.
"More
k," Steris said. "Time is of the essence, so I shall quickly do introductions. This is General Khuddim of the Fourth Ekridge Dwarf Legion. His legion is the one currently training in the yard."
She gestured to Durfur. "If he has not introduced himself, I will. This is Durfur, your personal assistant, and he will help in your training. Durfur previously served under General Khuddim in the Fourth Legion," Steris explained.
Then, it clicked. This was why Durfur would not make eye contact with Khuddim.
"Let us begin," the general said. "Fourth Legion, two laps around the city. The Guardian will be your competition. Try to beat him." Khuddim flashed a devilish grin. "Go!"
As a farmer, Morek had not run more than twice in his life. But he took his best shot and sprinted off. Little did he know, the energy spent for such a quick start would severely drop by lap two. Dwarfs began lapping him. Morek finally made it to the finish line dead last. Sweat poured down his face.
"Good job," Khuddim said to his troops. "Water break for everyone but Morek." Khuddim laughed at Morek as his troops began drinking from their flasks. "Morek, you must be prepared in advance for battle. That means having your flask on hand for a respite in battle."
"Of course, there is the course of magic," Steris said. "You could always bring water to yourself, but remember magic is dark and evil. Use it only if it is needed."
"It is needed," Morek panted.
"Then listen and learn," Steris said.
She taught him how to summon water from the sky and ground. Morek used one of the spells, and suddenly a rain cloud appeared above him. Rain began pouring down on him. He cupped his hands and drank. Just like the first time he used magic, Morek suddenly felt drained.
"Magic pulls power out of your body," Steris explained. "A stronger wizard or Guardian can use more spells in succession, but you cannot because you are still young. You need more training."
"I understand," Morek said.
"Durfur," Khuddim said. "Would you like to demonstrate a mock one-on-one fight with me?"
