To Forge a King- the Chronicles of Ellorhim

by Thomas Adams

  Kyrr pointed to the water barrel and led Fridya towards it. He grabbed one of the ladles and scooped out some fresh cold water and handed it to Fridya, “Here, drink and eat whenever you can. It is very important. We train hard and the Masters are fair but tough. The work is rigorous. I could tell when I first saw you that you were very good. It shows you know.”

  She blushed slightly at the compliment and he wondered what he said for such a reaction to color her face. He only spoke the truth.

  “Thank you for the advice Kyrr. And, the compliment, it was from the heart. A true selfless remark and I am unused to that.” She drank the water and handed the ladle back to him. By then Ivar was screaming at the students to take their positions again. Kyrr gulped down his water and they hurried back.

  “Oh, and watch out for our band’s bully, Bera. He can be a real ass.” Kyrr said.

  “Bera, which one is he?”

  Kyrr looked around and surreptitiously pointed the big bully out. Fridya watched the youth for a moment and said, “Of course, I know this boy and his family. I agree. He is a horse’s ass.”

  Kyrr grinned at her. Fridya seemed nice for an Erling and for a girl. It would be good to have a friend. It would be funny if his one friend at Reave Hall turned out to be the daughter of the most powerful man in the kingdom. Surely that could not be a bad thing.

  ***

  Fridya had only been at Reave Hall a few days and she was already convinced that Kyrr was one of the young men her father would want to know about. She knew he was looking for the hero from the Prophecy but she did not know why. She had read the Prophecy a few times with her father but still did not understand enough about it to know why the boy was important.

  The trouble with the Prophecy was that it was written a long time ago by the Druids and it was hard to understand what they were really talking about. Even the wording of the blasted thing was confusing. Her father had told her the Prophecy was the key to defeating the Erhand and the ancient evil, the Dark Ones, the Illr-hrae. It was important to her father so, no matter her reservations, she would do as her father wished.

  She quickly realized Kyrr was an enigma. Although young, she had been training for years and she had been around her father and his men enough to understand how things worked. And, Kyrr did not really fit in with these notions. How was he so good with a sword in so little time?

  The manner and quickness with which he learned new forms and effortlessly spun them into complex and lethal sequences was shocking to her. She knew she was smart and a quick learner and no slouch but his rapid progress was baffling. So far she had bested everyone in her group, except Kyrr. She had only been here a few days but she could see the changes in his ability and it was impressive. It smacked of archania or some god-like ability. Or, he had already been well trained before he joined the Guild. Then there was his memory loss, which was bizarre all by itself. Things just did not add up.

  They had just finished another sparring sessions and they both crouched over their wooden swords gasping for breath. Fridya struggled to get her words out, “Each fight…is closely …contested…a real challenge.”

  Kyrr replied between gulps of air, “Aye…you are very good…better than anyone else…in our group.”

  After she recovered she added, “I have been studying the sword for years and I am shocked you are this good after such a short time. Your speed is disconcerting to say the least.”

  He grinned at her and stood up straight. She added, “If you keep progressing like you have since I arrived you will quickly outstrip even my skills.”

  He shrugged and said, “I guess Fridya. I do not worry about such things. I just do what I can, you know?”

  That was a fairly nonchalant and bland response. She let it go. Kyrr was big for his age. Fridya was taller than most boys and girls her age as well but she was lithe and slender. She was also more muscular than most girls her age due to her constant training regimes. But she was not as strong as the bigger boys in their band, especially Kyrr, who also seemed to get stronger every day. She had no idea how he managed it. He seemed to be solid muscle.

  “We all do the same physical routines, running, jumping, moving and lifting heavy blocks and logs. Then there is the sparring, new forms practice and old forms drills and more sparring. I am puzzled how you are still able to be so fast and fresh after all that?”

  He answered, “I canna say Fridya.”

  “Then there is the classroom work, horse handling and archery practice. One top of that you also spend two hours after dinner every day in the smithy doing gods know what. It is almost inhuman you know?” It must have been hell in there because he always stunk of ash, soot and smoke.

  He nodded and said, “I just keep pushing and trying to do my best. I sleep well every night though so maybe I just recover better than most folks.”

  She snorted, “You sleep well and recover fast? Is that what you think makes you like this?” She let it go. Maybe he just didn’t know or didn’t seem aware of what she was seeing. The more time she spent with him though the more she liked him. He was smart, honest and focused. She respected his skill and determination. And, per her father’s instructions, she had to get close to the boy and others like him and report what she learned back to her father. All while becoming the finest swordswoman in history. It was no problem for Fridya at all. She relished a challenge.

  ***

  One spring day several moons after her arrival Fridya was sitting with Kyrr under the shade of the east wall as they took a brief rest from their strength exercises. It was warm and they worked hard. Everyone was sweating. Kyrr stood and pulled his shirt off and wrung the sweat from it. He then put it back on.

  “What is that you wear around your neck?” Fridya asked suspiciously.

  He reached into his tunic and pulled it out over his head and handed it to her and mumbled, “I am not sure. It was with me when I found myself outside Tanic. It seemed important so I keep it safe at all times. It is the only personal thing I had with me when I came here, besides my sword of course.”

  “Oh, well who gave it to you? What is in it?” she opened it and began inspecting the contents.

  “I don’t know who gave it to me. It has a flower in it and a necklace.”

  “A flower, a lock of black hair and a necklace!” she exclaimed as if that was the most illogical thing in the world for a boy to have in a wallet, “Black hair is so unusual. Very few in Vesfalruk have such dark hair. Were these items your mothers?”

  He gave an exasperated sigh and replied, “I do not know Fridya. It was my mother’s or my sister’s I guess. I’m not sure. I used to wear the necklace but I broke the chain and now I am afraid I will lose it when we train. So, now, I keep it in the wallet. Why all the questions?”

  “I see, well this is a girl’s coin purse. I have one similar to it. You are too young to be betrothed to a girl and only Erling get betrothed at such a young age. Why would a poor lost boy without any memory be betrothed to a noble girl?”

  He was really exasperated now, “I know not. Who says I am betrothed? That is just your silly reasoning!”

  “It is not silly. It is very logical and insightful. It is strange you have it unless a girl gave it to you and it is very special to you. Your mother would not have such a coin purse. Only a young girl would have such a thing. You are sure you can’t remember anything else about it?”

  Exasperated he shrugged and said, “Aye, I am sure. Master Grovan is calling us back to lesson. Let’s go.”

  He stood and grabbed his gear and ran back to the field. She followed right behind him and yelled, “You are all wrapped up in incongruity Kyrr! I like that about you though.”

  ***

  Over the spring and summer Bera closely watched Kyrr and Fridya. He was very jealous when they became friends. Fridya was very pretty and the daughter of the chancellor and as such the most eligible Erling girl in Vesfal. She would make a really good match for the son of a powerful jarl, someone like Bera! B
era’s father was Jarl Stiger of Upphafa. Jarl Stiger was one of the most powerful men in the Westlands.

  His father didn’t get along with the chancellor but Bera knew his father would be happy if Bera could make a potential friendship with Fridya. He was pretty certain he could get some useful information from the chancellor’s daughter. Information his father could use. After all, he was Bera, son of Jarl Stiger of Upphafa. What more was needed? All of the Erlings should want to be his friend.

  Bera’s mind was already made up that Fridya would be his friend and part of his Erling group. As the months went by and this did not happen he became very upset and angry that she preferred Kyrr’s company. And, inevitably this friction led to more confrontations between Bera and the peasant boy with no memory. But, for some reason Kyrr usually escaped his attacks or ended up getting the best of Bera. Bera did not know how or why.

  Since Bera could not best Kyrr he started eschewing one on one confrontation. Instead, he began to have his fellow Erlings assist in laying traps for Kyrr. However, more oft than not, Kyrr didn’t fall for such tricks. Also, Bera knew he needed to be careful and only launch his attacks when Fridya was not around. Bera didn’t want Fridya to think he was tormenting Kyrr, even though he was. He wanted to look good in the pretty girl’s eyes. But, his dislike for Kyrr seemed to outweigh reason.

  On one such occasion he and two other Erlings had trapped Kyrr in the stable and were getting ready to wail on him something terrible when Fridya happened to come in to give her horse an apple. She was one of the few students allowed to keep her horse at Reave Hall.

  Bera quickly disengaged from Kyrr when he saw the young lady walking down the row of stalls. But Kyrr didn’t stop. He seemed to be obvious to the girl’s presence. Afore Bera realized it Kyrr launched a quick series of punches that caught Bera on the chin and nose. Bera went down hard. He saw stars and everything went dark.

  ***

  As Bera went down Kyrr looked at his two Erling buddies. Hey did not seem to relish the fight now that their leader was out. They turned and fled. Kyrr looked about and was surprised to see Fridya standing several paces away staring at them. He’d not seen her come in. He’d told her that Bera and his friends bullied him but she’d never seen direct evidence until now. She stared at him then looked at Bera. She seemed shocked.

  As they stood there and stared at Bera she asked, “Is he hurt badly? Should we get help?”

  Kyrr was still very upset and almost shaking from the anger and fear coursing through his body. He was still in survival mode but he bent down and checked Bera.

  “He is fine, just knocked out cold. I got him real good when you walked in. It distracted him and he dropped his guard. His mistake and I took advantage of it.”

  “He was distracted by me?”

  “Aye.” said Kyrr, “I think he likes you. He is always staring at you.”

  “No!” Fridya gasped and she wrinkled up her pretty nose and grimaced.

  Kyrr laughed and turned and pulled a pitch fork off a rack. He opened one of the stalls.

  “Kyrr, what are you doing?” Fridya asked suspiciously.

  He chuckled and said, “I am making the pig comfortable, you know, helping him feel at home.” He then started forking dirty straw and clumps of horse manure from the stall and onto the unconscious Bera. Once he was covered pretty well Kyrr closed up the stall and put the pitch fork away.

  “Let’s go. I’m hungry and don’t want to miss last meal.” Kyrr said.

  Fridya tried to talk him out of leaving Bera on the floor, unconscious and covered in shite. Brandt would not budge from his chosen course of action though. He was angry and this was revenge for dozens of insults and attacks that he had experienced at Bera’s hands. He angrily told Fridya, “I care naught of just treatment or chivalry in this case!”

  As he stomped off he shouted over his shoulder, “You have no idea what he has done to me since I have been at Reave Hall. It is war! He started it and canna let it go!” She followed him to the mess, still castigating him about his decision.

  ***

  Bera woke up. At first he didn’t know where he was but he eventually realized he was in the stables. The smell was very strong and unmistakable. It was dark now and the stables were empty. Then he remembered the fight, Fridya walking in, he froze when he saw her and then Kyrr punched him and nothing more. He must have been knocked out cold by Kyrr. He rolled to his side and felt what must be straw and small soft round balls all around.

  Confused, he sat up and in the light from a single lantern he saw he’d been covered in dirty straw and horse shite. He put one and one together and came up with Kyrr. He was livid. And, all of this must have happened with Fridya looking on. She must think him a complete fool. It must have been Kyrr’s doing for sure! Kyrr was responsible for his humiliation and Bera vowed he would make him pay dearly.

  ***

  High Mage Lutvar sipped from his wine glass and gazed longingly at Titan’s slave dancers. There we eight of them and they were just a small part of his harem. Each one was stunning and collectively they were the most beautiful women Lutvar had ever seen. And, they were all very accomplished and provocative dancers, likely the best in all Ellorhim. The emperor would have it no other way.

  He leaned closer to Titan’s ear and said, “Exalted one, I have discovered that the Sword of Brandt is gone from the Shadow Lands”. Gullvayg informed him a few days ago that they had discovered the Sword was no longer in the Shadow Lands. She also said the Prophecy was being instigated by the Druids. The return of the Sword to Ellorhim was one of first the major signs in the Vesfalruk Prophecy.

  Titan glared at him, obviously upset Lutvar was bringing up this topic now. His morose question followed, “You are certain?”

  “Without a doubt my lord, Aravin has returned it to Vesfalruk. He sent it back last year some time. My sources do not know exactly when or where it was sent. He seeks to fulfill the Prophecy. He must be stopped.”

  Titan sneered but turned his focus back to the women dancing seductively before him, “It is no matter. The Prophecy is just the impotent scheming of the jarls of Vesfal. They have no real power in this world anymore. Their time has passed and their vaunted Prophecy is a failure.”

  “My emperor, do not underestimate the Druids.” As Lutvar spoke he enacted a simple persuasion enchantment. “Many have in the past and look what happened to them! There is still real power there. You are warned. Marshall your spies and agents and set them to finding the sword.”

  “Hmm,” Titan murmured, sullen and obviously distracted, his eyes captivated by the lovely women dancing before him. The music’s tempo had picked up considerably and the women matched their movements to it perfectly. The enchantment also seemed to work well. Titan’s outrage seemed to fade. “Aye, you may be correct. But, if he has sent back the sword would not he also send back the boy? From what you have told me the sword is just a small part of the Prophecy. The boy must also be here, in this world now, not in the Shadow Lands of the Druids?”

  “Aye, I would image so but I have no sense of the child. His powers may be dormant or even non-existent. There is no telling the role he will really play. Their Prophecy isn’t very clear on many points. And I have no rumors or intelligence that the boy is in Vesfalruk now.”

  “Well, I think if we find the boy we will also find the sword. Their destinies are intertwined like sickle vines in the wilds. Destroying the sword is very difficult. Impossible you say? Killing a boy is much easier is it not?”

  With a quick cruel smile Lutvar answered, “Aye my lord, killing a boy is easy. It would disrupt the Prophecy cycle to no end and that fool Aravin would be hard pressed to recover. He has invested everything in this path.”

  “Then that is our choice. Make it so. Send some of the Narasists. We will kill off this Prophecy ere it can even take root.”

  The song ended. The two men stood up from the couches they had been reclining on. The emperor, his eyes full of lust, pointed to two of t
he dancers and left the sumptuous parlor for his sleeping chambers. The selected women followed. The remainder filed past the watchful eunuchs and into the emperor’s harem.

  Lutvar watched Titan go. He wondered if his attempts to manipulate Titan were working. They seemed to be but it was hard to tell. The man had always been erratic and inconsistent. Lutvar’s life was in the balance. Either he twisted Titan to his designs or Arngrim would destroy him. If he did not make progress with Titan he would not be able to begin working on breaching the Void for Arngrim. Not for the first time he wondered what Arngrim was and why breaching the Void was so important.

  Chapter 5

  A Theft

  The Warrior Song, verse 5

  When all is hopeless and desperate

  Terror fills your gullet and your wounds abound

  Your sword dull and your arm lacks strength

  The dead lie in great heaps at your feet

  The ground is slick with blood but still they come

  Raise your sword high in defiance

  Give a great shout and curse them to Hel

  Death comes for all

  Erik the Colder

  ***

  During their mid-day meal break Fridya and Kyrr sat at a table by themselves. Fridya watched in amazement as Kyrr demolished a third bowl of lamb stew.

  “What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of stew.

  “Oh, nothing. It is astonishing. You eat as much as a horse.”

  He nodded and kept eating. She wanted to talk. She was not going to let him eat in peace. She had his undivided attention, no one else was around. Well, the stew and she had his undivided attention.