To Forge a King- the Chronicles of Ellorhim

by Thomas Adams

  Unseen, above the practice yard, on a small balcony outside her room, Yfiria looked on with great interest and pride. She could not hear all the conversation on the field below but the expressions on the faces of the men standing around Brandt were all she needed to see. She was no judge of great swordsmanship but what she’d just witnessed was amazing.

  That a young boy could move so fast and obviously master such difficult techniques was extraordinary. She knew he’d also used some form of archania but was unsure exactly what he had done. She’d felt it for sure. But, it was not anything she was familiar with or had seen Ridynar train him in. Was Brandt making it up as he went along? He must be. It was very unusual and impressive.

  She was bound to Brandt and it was important he succeed, no excel at this training. She wanted him to thrive in everything he tried. From the amount of time Ridynar spent training Brandt in the sword at Talfur she would have expected him to be very good. From what she’d overheard of Ridynar and Aravin’s discussions on the topic she knew he had progressed well at Talfur. Now, here was definitive proof.

  There were dark times ahead and they would all need his skill. She did not know exactly what was coming but she’d discussed it with Aravin some. Aravin knew more but would not tell her specific details. She was sure he did not want to overwhelm her. He had learned that lesson with Brandt. She could understand how the pressure and fear would negatively impact a young boy.

  Yfellia, standing next to her on the balcony, interrupted her thoughts, “Cousin, I am no great judge of fighting skills but it seems the lad is very good with a sword. I have never seen anything like it.”

  Proudly Yfiria replied, “Me either, he appears to be very, very good. I have no doubt that one day he will be the best, ever.”

  ***

  Kyrr, Aravin, Prince Rudolph and Chancellor Rumborg sat in a small meeting room inside Reave Hall near Master Ivar’s study. Rumborg was still discussing the sparring sessions, “I have never seen Forster struggle to score a hit. It was truly unbelievable. Aravin, what can you tell us of the boy’s abilities?”

  Aravin appeared to be thoughtful a moment and then said, “When Brandt was sparing with your daughter and the older student he used pure skill and technique. When he fought with Forster he called on an ancient power, a form of archania, an ability few have ever possessed. Only three or four have ever had the ability to use this type of archania in the last three hundred years. The most notable was his father.”

  “It is true then? King Brandt I is his father? My wife tried to convince me it was so but I am still uncertain.” the prince asked with some skepticism evident in his voice. Kyrr looked up and Prince Rudolph, sitting directly across from him was staring at him. Kyrr met his gaze and held it. Kyrr could not tell what was going through the man’s mind.

  “It is undeniable. It was I that took him from Queen Rowina and carried him to the Shadow Lands. The boy afore you is Jan Brandt Rodull, second son of Brandt I and the last remaining of that line. He is the Rising Sun of the West and the last true Prince of Vesfalruk. When the time is right he will be proclaimed Crown Prince and Jarl of Dun Craven,” Aravin replied with unquestionable assuredness.

  The two rulers gazed at Kyrr intently, their eyes seeking to burrow into his mind and wrest great secrets and answers from it. But, little did they know, such treasures were not there. Kyrr didn’t have the answers to their questions locked in some deep corner of his mind. He was only a young man struggling with all the things young men have struggled with from the dawn of time. He was just as confused and unsure of the world and his place in it as any other boy. Outwardly he may have projected confidence, capability and a strong demeanor but inside all was in turmoil and confusion reigned. He was not even sure why he was sitting here now in this august company.

  “Fascinating,” murmured the prince. “No wonder my daughter thinks so highly of him. She talked of him incessantly these last few moons.”

  “She is an astute judge of character and pedigree,” Rumborg replied evenly. “My daughter also made note of the lad’s quality and ability to me years ago.”

  “So, what is next Aravin? Is there a plan, ” asked the prince?

  “No, not a real plan in any formal sense, there is the Prophecy of course. That is a guideline though and takes its course from the gods and not from mere Druids. I have been told the Emoire, as you may have heard, is also aware of Brandt and has already sent assassins twice to kill him. Events are moving along faster that I imagined. My opinion is we wait. Brandt must continue to study and master as much from this Hall as possible. He must make himself ready to lead, fight and rule. War is coming. You all know this. We must also work to help him recover his memory. He was trained in many things while he lived at Talfur with me. All of those skills and lessons, so important to our struggle, are lost if we can’t help him regain his mind.”

  Rumborg inquired, “Do we announce him to the jarls, to the kingdom?”

  “No Chancellor, you must prepare as best you can though. It is not yet his time. Soon but he is not ready yet. And, the Prophecy is unclear as to when he makes his claim, renews Brandt’s line and draws forth Frṑdstyra, The Sword of Knowledge.”

  “I don’t understand. Why bring up Frṑdstyra? That is the ancient way.”

  “Aye, it is. That is how he should claim his throne. Do not worry; all will be clear when the time comes. For now gather your strength, recall the kriger, shore up your alliances and prepare your defenses. This you must do. When the time is right the Rising Sun will ride with you to war.”

  “Understood, I will do my best. Who does the boy marry? We should plan this now, in order to prevent trouble once he assumes the throne. I have some ideas there.” Rumborg stated.

  The prince frowned at this comment. Did he have some idea why Rumborg wanted to plan it out now? Kyrr watched the prince and the prince’s eyes flicked over to Aravin. Aravin didn’t seem to notice Prince Hestvain’s silent question.

  Aravin cleared his throat and turned his gaze out the window. After a long few seconds he replied, “Rumborg, I can’t see that path yet. I may never see it to be honest. I know the destiny of Princess Yfiria and Brandt is closely interwoven. I don’t know who or if he marries though. There are many factors at play here. The Prophecy is complex and forks with each new decision and action. It is not a map, just a guide.”

  Kyrr was restless and wanted to leave. The men were talking about him and talking over him. He understood very little of what was going on. He knew they all thought he was a son of Brandt I and that he would be king one day. They all called him Brandt but his name was Kyrr. He’d been Kyrr since he walked into Reave Hall many years ago.

  They wanted him to marry Fridya or Yfiria. He thought all of it was just plain silly. He was too young to marry either although he liked them both. One was his best friend and sword mate. They did everything together. The other, an old friend apparently, the girl from his dreams, she haunted his thoughts and he was certain she was his past life. She now drew his attention like no girl had ever done before. Just thinking of her now brought a smile to his face.

  He just wanted to go see Yfiria again and talk with her. Perhaps she could help some more with his memories. She seemed to have the best result in jogging things loose in his muddled brain. He also wanted to find Fridya and try to patch up his friendship with her. He wanted to rejoin his squad in the barracks and continue learning as much as possible. He just wanted everything to stop and return to normal. The way it was a few days ago when he was plain Kyrr.

  He said, “I am not ready to marry anyone right now. I have to finish my training here at Reave Hall. I want to be a Master of the Sword and Axe.”

  Master Ivar nodded his agreement and said, “Let’s table that discussion for now gentlemen. I think it best if Kyrr returns to his band now.”

  As Kyrr departed he overheard Aravin say, “We have much to discuss still but there is no clear way forward. We will have to proceed under a worst case scenario.�
�

  ***

  It was early in the morning and just after first meal. The students were in the practice yard warming up and sparring under the watchful eyes of several Masters. Thick dark sullen rain clouds blanketed the skies. It was going to be a wet day once the rain started.

  Master Ivar and Erika walked up to Aravin, Yfellia and Yfiria as they stood outside Reave Hall watching the students practice. Master Ivar muttered the normal morning pleasantries. He was in a foul mood. The chancellor, Aravin and the Prince of Radnja had exhausted his patience and good will.

  Yfiria responded in kind but in a much pleasanter manner. They were obviously paying close attention to Red Band, Brandt’s group. Brandt was sparring with Fridya and Bera. The two were trying their best to beat down Brandt’s defense but having no luck.

  “Ivar, we should talk, come ladies, let us go to the garden while the weather holds.” Aravin said.

  Once they were in the secluded confines of the garden Aravin turned and faced Ivar and said, “You know we go soon. We have a few matters to discuss, plans to make and questions to answer.”

  Master Ivar nodded and asked, “What is the real plan for the boy? The chancellor and prince seem to have specific designs.”

  “Ignore those. Leave him be for now. He has work to do. Let him and these students master their lessons. I fear they will need every skill they can muster in the years ahead.”

  Master Ivar did not look pleased with this response. He paused and seemed to think it over before he replied, “I worry about our ability to keep him safe here. This fortress was meant to keep out an army not a few motivated and resourceful assassins.”

  Aravin sighed, “Master Ivar and Erika, I understand but you can only do your best. The Narasists will keep coming until the boy is dead or the last assassin is dead. And, once Titan runs out of Narasists he will send an army or worse.”

  Erika asked, “What is worse than Narasists or an army? We are hard pressed just to watch for the Narasists Ancient One.”

  Erika was much younger than Master Ivar and still held Aravin in awe. She treated him with the utmost respect and used his old court title from before Brandt I’s reign.

  Aravin chuckled, “My dear, you are kind, but young. There are much worse things than assassins or a human army. Just pray that the Dokköndi are not yet able to freely roam Ellorhim. We would be very hard pressed to stop even a single ancient evil one.”

  Erika shuddered at the mention of Dokköndi. They were just legends she thought. Dokköndi, also called Illr-hrae, were rumored to be creatures of unstoppable death and dark fearful powers. The Illr-hrae were barely remembered by even the oldest archivists and Lore Masters. No one alive except the Druids would know what a Dark One really was. Common folk only thought of them as superstition and held them to be legends of devils and ghosts.

  Yfiria interjected, “I have spoken to Brandt and warned him. He knows what I have foreseen and promised me he would be ready. I have also sensed an evil gathering to the east. I fear Illr-hrae already roam Ellorhim Aravin.”

  Aravin did not look happy about this news and he gave Yfiria a look that kept her from mentioning more about her latest visions of the Dokköndi.

  “I understand my lady,” said Erika. “But, will even he be able to stop a large group of Narasists or a Dark One?”

  Yfiria shrugged and looked at Aravin. Aravin cleared his throat before replying and said, “He grows stronger and more skilled with each new day. Soon, Master Ivar, he will be tall enough to take up his father’s sword. I have not seen it with him but expect it is here somewhere?”

  “Aye, it is in his room.”

  “Good. You know the sword’s history?”

  “We suspected but were not sure.”

  “You suspected correctly. Wielding SwordBreaker is very important. It will give a great edge over his opponents. You must train him with it as soon as he is big enough to handle it. It will help but, without his full memory and the skills he learned while in my keeping, he will be hard pressed to reach his full potential and employ all his abilities. But, I am confident things will begin to turn for the better.” With this he looked at Yfiria. She only shrugged her shoulders.

  Ivar tried again but Aravin refused to consider Brandt leaving Reave Hall. His argument was the lad needed experience and skill and exposure now more than a hiding place. He also added there was no place safer in the free lands than Reave Hall. He ended that topic on a final ominous note and a warning, “If the Dokköndi are now in Ellorhim, as the princess sees, then they already know of our home, the Shadow Lands. Our home is hidden, a secret refuge but a refuge from men. The Dokköndi can find it and easily travel there. There will be no safe place there or here for Brandt as their power and strength grows. They will use the Emoire to further their goals until the Emoire is no longer useful. Then, the Emoire will cease to exist and they will move on to the next obstacle. It is their way.

  “The coming conflict with the Emoire is just the opening skirmish. What comes after is the real war. Focus your thoughts on preparing for what comes. Master Ivar, there is an old classroom here in the halls below. I would highly recommend opening that hall and begin rotating your students through. I will send someone to perform this training. Send your students, officers and soldiers. Train all you can.”

  Ivar blanched and said, “You mean the Gallery of the Dead?”

  Aravin nodded and gave him a stern look, “They are just words and pictures man. There is only knowledge down there. And knowledge will become power for your men and women, to learn about what they will face and how to defeat it. We need to take advantage of every bit of lore we possess to give your people an edge. They will need it. I am not speaking of nightmares and superstition. The enemy is real.”

  The topic changed. Erika wanted to send for more people to help protect Brandt. Everyone agreed it would help. But, in the end, after everyone had a say, Ivar was not sure much was different now. No new strategy or device was decided upon that could improve Brandt’s chances. Yfiria promised she would spend a few hours each day, before she departed Reave Hall, trying to break down Brandt’s mental barriers and fostering his memory. Aravin had given up on trying anything himself. He said it was beyond any skill he knew or could employ. He wished they had brought a healer. Yfiria was still hopeful and she said as much. She said she would not stop trying. Aravin nodded in agreement.

  The group continued discussing plans, contingencies and courses of actions for another hour and then the meeting ended. There was much to do. The Chancellor’s embassy would depart for Fortress Cinder soon. Apart from a stronger sense of urgency and more diligence there was little to come from the planning session. Everyone felt discouraged that so little could be done.

  ***

  As she gazed on the lovely physical form of Aelia, Gullvayg decided she would take a much more active role in the current situation in Imperia than she’d initially planned. Gullvayg’s current form was an illusion, an enchantment tied to her spirit in a dead animated human husk. She despised this condition and longed for a much more physical and connected state on Ellorhim. She was a vain and prideful spirit. In her original physical life a thousand years ago she’d been beautiful and desired by many men. Most women had hated and cursed her.

  After centuries of nothing she desired to feel again. Feel in the physical sense and not just the hollowed out spiritual being she’d existed in for hundreds of bleak endless years. She knew she had the power to move to the physical realm but it was risky. Seeing Aelia made the decision easy.

  As soon as the discussions were over and Lutvar departed for the palace Gullvayg caused Aelia to drift off to sleep on one of the couches in the room. Aelia succumbed quickly to the enchantment. Once she was fully comatose Gullvayg began. Gullvayg worked up a powerful transference enchantment and took hold of Aelia’s mind. She imposed her own consciousness and spirit overtop of Aelia’s. It would be a struggle to keep the willful girl under mental dominion but it should not be too m
uch concern.

  Once her conscious and spirit were resident in the young women’s immaculate voluptuous form she immediately began to feel again. To feel alive again and to experience the life around her, through the young woman’s body. It was so good. She was alive through archania but it was better that her previous state. She immediately sensed all sorts of things. Things she had not felt for centuries and had forgotten. But she craved these feelings, craved them above all other things. Throughout her past suffering, for untold years, she may have forgotten the connection with real life but she always still desired it.

  She felt the air move slowly around her, she could smell dust, sweat and food cooking somewhere nearby. Her stomach rumbled in response and she smiled at the thought of tasting food and wine again. She felt the soft silk fabric of her dress sliding over her young nubile body as she rose and luxuriously stretched. She touched her face, her hair and breasts and relished the sensations. She was alive again. It was intoxicating and invigorating. This girl was so fresh and beautiful and ripe it was a pleasure just being in her body and connected to it.

  She would take care of Kho herself. In this lovely young woman’s form it would be easy. She would then seduce the emperor and become the general of his armies. She would not stop there though. Once she was ready she would also assume the throne of Imperia. She would soon be Hraezlan’s most powerful vassal and hopefully, even replace the dreaded Kûnnabani. The Emorie would be Gullvayg’s.

  PART 2

  The Lost Prince

  Chapter 17

  Goodbyes

  Shield Breakers Story, Part IV

  The desperate cries of warriors that know

  Life is fleeting with sharp sword’s blow

  Victorious warriors are silent after horn’s last peal

  The fallen thick on battle’s bloody field