by Peter Hall
Eir looked over towards the stables and gasped. “Angel!” she said with a beaming smile.
Bryn smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes. She was relieved the pony had survived; she wasn’t sure how much more hardship the Halfling could cope with. Durandal set her down and she ran over to the stables, stood on a hay bail and embraced her pony as He and Bryn watched on. Bryn turned to Durandal and he smiled. He reached out and wiped the tears from her face.
“Where did you get an army?” she said, shaking her head and looking around at the soldiers waiting at attention.
“Let’s just say, what the Slug Rider of Iliad wants, he gets.” he said with an awkward grin.
Bryn looked at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
“Ask me again one day.” he said.
Bryn shook her head “Oh I will don’t worry.” she said, still puzzled but overjoyed at the same time. She didn’t care about the hundred soldiers, she was just glad he was back.
They made camp at the village and posted sentries around the perimeter to keep watch throughout the night. As Bryn lay next to Durandal in their cabin, he brushed her hair back and studied her face in the flickering light of the small fire coming from the hearth.
“So you lived here in Asgard as a child… how is it that you came to be in Siera?” He asked.
“It’s a long, sad tale i'm afraid… maybe better left for another time.”
“Oh come now, you can tell me.”
Bryn looked down. “At the age of around ten or so I was kidnapped by slavers and taken to the Sand Kingdom.” she said.
Durandal looked troubled. “And what happened then?”
“They collared me with a Tekion Ring and put me to work in an iron mine. I spent many years in the Great Desert with my captors until one day, I was able to escape. I headed south through the desert, alone and with no food or water. I crossed the Dim-Rakul and found my way to the Southern Wilds.”
Durandal was speechless. For a moment at least.
“Then what?”
“Well, then I learned to survive in the jungles and I lived there for many years. I became part of a tribe of warriors and hunted many beasts and fought many battles alongside them.”
Durandal shook his head in disbelief. “And then?”
“Eventually, I left and headed east towards the ocean.”
“Why the ocean?”
“Because I had never seen it before, except once from a distance. From there I travelled north along the coast in a galleon. The ship took me as far as Cedonia and I kept moving north from there… and that’s when I ran into you.”
Durandal stared into the fire, taking it all in.
“What about you?” Bryn said and looked up at him.
He stared into the fire and his eyes became cold and distant. “Well.. my story isn’t quite as exciting as yours, but it is long and rather sad.” he said and looked down. He looked as though he was ashamed of something. After a moment, he spoke.
“When I was a young man, I lived in Velden, in the Capitol of Siera. I joined the Siera Legion and served my city with pride. I married a beautiful woman named Tilda and we raised a child together.”
Bryn ran her finger down his arm. “That doesn't seem so sad.” she said. “What is your child’s name?”
Durandal stared back into her eyes and tears started running down his face. “My son. His name was Leon.” he said and looked back into the fire. “The army..." He stared into the fire for a moment and then looked down. “Velden was attacked by Dokkalfar raiders one night. They crept through the city and murdered countless people in their sleep... including my wife and child. I found their bodies when I returned home.”
Bryn saw anger spark within him as the flames danced in his eyes.
“I will never forgive myself for letting them die. After that, I travelled north. I was lost. A broken man. Then I came across the Knights of Greymoore and they took me in. I know I can’t make up for what i’ve done.” he said and rolled over. Bryn wrapped her arm around him and held his body close to hers, as they lay under the fur next to the hearth and drifted off to sleep.
Slowly but steadily Garet followed the narrow path leading to the peak of the highest mountain in the Northern Ranges of Siera, one hand gripping the strap of his satchel and the other on the hilt of the mighty Venom. His black robe billowed in the wind as the storm raged across the mountainside, the rain whipping across the rocky landscape. He was almost there. Dark energy was emanating from the mountain. The Gods were watching. They were aware of his presence. They knew what his coming foreshadowed. He could feel the ancient power of the place and with every step closer it became more intense. He covered his face with his forearm, shielding himself from the elements and pushed forward through the darkness.
Any common man would feel somewhat accomplished to have climbed the famous mountain known as Ravak-Gren but of course Garet had no interest in such mundane feats. He was about to bring forth the Old Gods, the monsters of the deep, only spoken of in tavern songs and fairy fables. The shallow people of Eteria were about to have their meaningless worlds turned upside down and utterly destroyed. The weak and pathetic kings of this age had lost all honor and let their kingdoms devolve into decaying relics of a dying era. They deserved what was coming.
The light had left Eteria long ago, the men of this age failed to become anything other than scavengers, thieves and murderers. The Dwarves, nothing but greedy monsters digging for gold in the Kotari Mountains, hardly better than the Gnomes further south. The Elves, those grey skinned lizards... Dokkalfar and the sickly, arrogant Ljosalfar. The filthy forest beasts such as the Huldra and the Halflings and the Fae, those bone-headed giants, the Jotnar, all of them! All will be cleansed from the world. Their time is up! Garet could hardly contain his excitement. He grinned as he fought his way through the storm to the mountain peak. He was about to accomplish something far greater than any man had done before him. This would supersede even the heroic feats and legends of the kings of the Old World.
As he ascended the heights of Ravak-Gren the wind gusts became so fierce he could barely keep his feet. It took every ounce of his strength to keep pushing forward. He had lost all concept of how long he had been travelling or when the last time was that he ate or drank anything, these things no longer important. His feet were cut to pieces from traversing the rocky mountainside, his leather shoes giving out long ago, yet he felt no pain.
The path flattened out and Garet lifted his eye for the first time in hours. He was there. He walked along a little further and gazed out into the darkness. He could see the massive shadow of Eteria below him, he could see the Great Western Sea, the moon reflecting off the surface and he was struck with wonder. The world looked to Garet like a palm sized model someone had produced in a workshop; it seemed monstrously huge yet tiny at the same time.
He lowered his eye again and kept moving, searching for the entrance. He felt the pull of the old ones leading him, directing him where to go. His legs had a mind of their own. A large rock appeared from the darkness, he forged ahead and a wave of energy surged through his body. His heart started beating faster as he approached the rock and he was certain that he had found it. He searched for the glyph, running his hands across the cold, wet surface, circling around, feeling for it. He stopped and felt a marking chiseled in the rock. He gasped and looked for a way up. There was a set of smaller rocks beside the large one and he slowly climbed. When he reached the top he saw stairs carved inside the rock, leading down into darkness.
The staircase spiraled into the mountain and Garet slowly descended them in the pitch dark. The walls disappeared as he went lower and he sensed that he was inside a huge chamber. He had no idea how high up he was, so took care not to fall off the edge as the staircase continued winding down. There was a slight breeze inside the dark chamber, the air was stale and smelled of iron. Step by step Garet made his way down and finally he reached the floor of the sacred place, undiscovered by any of this age, until now.
He could see nothing, but the floor felt smooth and flat as he slowly walked forward in the darkness. After a short distance he felt a stone wall in front of him and followed it along with his hands. He felt an iron bracket holding a wooden torch. He fumbled around in his satchel and found his spark-stones. He clicked the spark-stones together over the torch, creating a flash and a shower of sparks that sprayed down, setting the torch alight. He pulled the torch from the bracket and held it high, continuing along the wall, lighting several more. Eventually the chamber was completely lit and he placed the torch back in its bracket.
The floor tiles and walls were shiny and black. There was a large pit in the middle of the chamber and a round altar behind it, on which sat thirteen crystal skulls. Each skull had a different shape. There was a squid shaped skull, a wolf, a snake, a bird, a lizard, a horned beast, a human with sharp teeth, a strange wide skull, an elongated skull and the rest looked more or less human. They represented the Old Gods that were about to be unleashed on the world.
There was Chorzon, a giant tentacled terror lurking beneath the Great Western Sea and Jormungandr the snake that was coiled under the Atlantis Ocean. Fenrir the giant black wolf of Asgard and Ymir the ice giant of Valhalla. The giant warrior Vidar, buried under the soil in the Dead Wastes. Fafnir the dragon of Valenor and Mot the fire demon, sleeping under the Kotari Mountains. Kholki the great bird trapped inside its rock-egg in the Dim-Rakul. Shai’tan the God of darkness, who leads an army of ghosts across the Great Desert and Hel the Goddess of death whose spirit waits behind the veil in the Badlands. Fossegrimen the tree spirit goblin trapped under the tree of souls, deep in the Southern Wilds. Elrik the mud demon, who’s evil spirit pervades the marshlands in Northern Siera and the demon goddess Lilith, who the grimoire prophesied would emerge from this very chamber.
Garet approached the altar and took a glass jar from his satchel that was full to the brim with the Master’s black blood. He unlatched the jar and carefully poured the contents into small holes in the top of each skull. The blood ran down inside the skulls and spread through a network of fine tubes, like black roots expanding out and occupying the space within. He took an obsidian crystal from his satchel and placed it on a small shelf in the middle of the altar. It leaped from his fingers as he placed it down and snapped in place, like it was magnetized to that spot. He walked back around to the front of the pit and sat down, taking the grimoire the Master had given him from his satchel and began to recite the resurrection rites from the pages of the infernal book.
Over the last century, the Master had assimilated enough Hugr, or spirits of the dead within his Hamr, or outer shell, that upon his death, the life-force released would be great enough to resurrect the Old Gods, if channeled correctly. The skulls will act as a conduit these ancient terrors can use like a ship crossing the ocean, to pass through the veil and return to the realm of the living. Once the old ones returned it would spell the end of all life and the beginning of a new dark age. Nothing could stop what was coming. The chain of events had been set into motion long ago, all that was left now was for the Master to cross the veil.
He gazed at the altar as he spoke the forbidden passages from the book. The blood started to overflow out of the skulls and run down the surface of the crystals like garden fountains. They were all completely black now. The blood flowed over the edge of the altar. It reached the floor and ran down a thin groove in the stone, directly into the pit. Slowly, the pit began to fill with the dark liquid until it was completely full. The blood continued to flow from the skulls but the level of the blood in the pit remained steady.
Garet knew that within the Master’s castle, high above his throne and hidden in the ceiling was a large obsidian crystal. Upon death, the master’s life-force will shoot up into the crystal and flow from its smaller twin in the centre of the dark altar, into the skulls. He stared at the black skulls with his and grinned maniacally, waiting for the end.
Ljosalfar or ‘Light Elves’
‘Races of Eteria’ from ‘Eterialumen 1320th year since the cataclysm’
The Ljosalfar live on the northern end of the first continent, in a land called Valenor. They reside in beautiful kingdoms renowned for their exquisite architecture. Ljosalfar are a highly advanced race and are the second known intelligent life form to inhabit Eteria, Unlike the terran Dokkalfar, the Ljosalfar are not native to this realm. Legend has it that they came from a distant realm long ago, and they settled on Eteria to perform evolutionary experiments on the animals of the land. They have pale white skin, blonde hair and large white wings sprouting from their backs. Many humans believe Ljosalfar to be heavenly creatures, or angels. The Ljosalfar and the Dokkalfar were once peaceful toward each other until something sparked a conflict that has raged between the two races for millenia. The Ljosalfar have superior abilities in combat, magicks and alchemy to any other race on Eteria.
E.
X
Battle Flame
Bryn, Eir and Starcaller rode alongside Durandal in front of the line of soldiers, with Cerberus jogging close behind the modest force. It was still dark when they left the small abandoned village and moved north past the Hinterlands. The rain came down steadily throughout the morning, the wind became colder and before midday the landscape around them was completely covered in a bright white blanket of snow. They rode all day through the freezing cold weather. As the light started to fade, they came upon a large town called Krieg.
Krieg was surrounded by stone walls that had wooden spikes along the base. There was a large open gate leading into the city and as they approached they saw a sprawling town full of markets and houses, mostly simple buildings made of wooden logs and stone. There was a small castle and church in the centre of town, and outside the city walls were some farms and what looked like a wheat plantation. There was one thing missing, Bryn thought as they slowed down and approached the gate; people. They hadn’t seen any alive in Asgard yet and Bryn feared the worst. Durandal signalled his troops to wait outside the walls while a scout went ahead into the city. The scout came back after a few moments and pulled his horse up next to Durandal’s.
“Undead, scattered around here and there, shouldn’t cause us any trouble. In the centre of town, there is a light in the church Sir.” the scout said.
Durandal nodded and the scout returned to the rest of the soldiers. Durandal ordered the soldiers to wait, dismounted his horse and walked over to Starcaller. “Come with me.” he said and turned to Cerberus. “Mega-head, watch over the Halfling.”
Cerberus groaned and walked his horse over next to the Pony. Bryn dismounted her horse and walked over to Eir. She took off her red cape and wrapped it around her as she shivered in the cold.
“Stay here sweetheart, we will be back soon.” Bryn said to the shivering little bundle sitting on her pony.
“Alright. Be careful.” Eir said and held her hand out.
Bryn held her hand and smiled, then walked over to Durandal and Starcaller. “Alright, let’s go see who’s home.” she said and the three drew their weapons and walked through the city gates.
As they headed along the main road of the snow covered town, it was becoming darker by the moment and the weather was getting worse. Bryn could see a few shambling draugr ahead. She looked over at Starcaller and she nodded. Three blue flashes lit up the road as she fired her arrows ahead and all three targets dropped to the ground. A draugr lunged out from a cabin as they walked past, Durandal lifted his sword and it ran straight into the tip of the blade, face first.
“Not the smartest of creatures are they.” he said, as he flicked the blood from his sword.
They got to the town square and there were three more undead wandering aimlessly in the snow. Starcaller aimed her exquisite ebony bow and the square lit up with a bright green flash. After she fired the arrow it split into three separate arrows and they each landed in a draugr’s head. All three dropped to the ground at the same time, green mist floating up from their skulls. They looke
d over and saw the flickering light inside the church and crept toward the building. Bryn slowly opened the door to the church and peered inside.
The church was full of dead bodies and there was blood splattered across the walls and the floor. There was a strange symbol painted in blood at the back of the room and there was a hooded figure kneeling before it. Bryn and Durandal shared a glance and crept inside the room. Starcaller slowly drew her bow and crept to the side of the room with her eye trained on the hooded figure at the back of the church. They approached the robed figure slowly and it didn't move. As they got close, Bryn went to grab the robed person’s shoulder and she got caught off guard. It was a man with a black beard and he had cuts all over his face. He looked insane. He jumped up and lunged at Bryn, knocking her back a few steps. Durandal grabbed him by the neck and raised his sword and the man shoved a dagger straight into Durandal’s stomach, as a bright blue arrow pierced his head then evaporated into mist. The robed man dropped to the floor and Bryn ran over to Durandal who dropped down on one knee, holding his wound.
“Here let me…” Bryn said but Durandal cut her off.
“No! I’m fine.” He said and winced as blood ran from the wound. He got to his feet and sat down on a church pew.
Bryn shook her head and walked over to the robed assassin's body. She turned it over and sure enough he was wearing the silver bat necklace. The corpse grabbed her arm and it’s white eyes flicked open, Bryn gasped and Durandal almost fell off the pew. It stared at Bryn and a ghastly grin spread across its face.
“You!” the corpse said in a deep gravelly voice “have you come to kill me, Valkyrie? You fool! Perhaps you brought your dog to do it for you! Everything you do only serves me! You are the last Asgardian and yet, you come to me. Why? So I can kill you too? So your people will be utterly exterminated? Ahhh perhaps that is it! Perhaps you want to die! You will die along with your dog!”
