The Sword and the Shadows_The First Chronicle

by Patrick Kriener

  The Scrolls of Alundiel

  The First Chronicle

  The Sword and the Shadows

  By Patrick Kriener and Dan Wayley

  Published internationally by Black Sheep Publications:

  Chattanooga, TN

  © Black Sheep Publications 2018

  Terms and Conditions:

  The purchaser of this book is subject to the condition that he/she shall in no way resell it, nor any part of it, nor make copies of it to distribute freely.

  All Persons Fictitious Disclaimer:

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Chapter One: A Father’s Love

  Chapter Two: Shadows Among Dawn

  Chapter Three: The Awakened Hero

  Chapter Four: The Snowcleft Spine

  Chapter Five: The Summit

  Chapter Six: Secrecy of a New Empire

  Chapter Seven: Feurindal

  Chapter Eight: The Shieldvanes

  Chapter Nine: Escape to Benaibel Basin

  Chapter Ten: The Last of His Kin

  Chapter Eleven: Rise of Shadows

  Chapter Twelve: Gateway to the Dark

  Chapter Thirteen: Induction to the Shieldvanes

  Chapter Fourteen: Wyndal’s Defense

  Chapter Fifteen: The Four

  Chapter Sixteen: Helen of the Octavium City

  Chapter Seventeen: Death’s Betrayal

  Chapter Eighteen: An Ancient Evil

  Chapter Nineteen: Adventure’s Horizon

  Chapter Twenty: Hector’s Riddle

  Chapter Twenty-One: The Tunnel

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Gorge of Evil

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Fate’s Revelation

  Chapter Twenty-Four: The Secret Tribe

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Answers

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Aleazar Lends a Hand

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Trek to the Spine

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: The God of Order and War

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Sorceress

  Chapter Thirty: Danger through the Heartlands

  Chapter Thirty-One: Ancient Knowledge

  Chapter Thirty-Two: An Alliance Forged

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Flight to the Temple

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Bane of the Shieldvanes

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Swear of Vengeance

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Sacred Past

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Dawnfrost

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: Berek’s Decision

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: Dark Awakening

  Chapter Forty: The Path to the Temple

  Chapter Forty-One: The Appeal

  Chapter Forty-Two: Questioning

  Chapter Forty-Three: In the Caverns of the Shadows

  Chapter Forty-Four: The Plan for Invasion

  Chapter Forty-Five: Arrival at Wyndal

  Chapter Forty-Six: Dispersion of Heroes

  Chapter Forty-Seven: Battle at the Gates

  Chapter Forty-Eight: Forefront of Battle

  Chapter Forty-Nine: Victory is Near

  Chapter Fifty: Retribution

  Epilogue

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning.

  - George Baker

  The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

  - Chinese Proverb

  There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.

  - Louis L’Amour

  Chapter One: A Father’s Love

  A cold wind howled inside of Hector’s cabin. His family, both wife and son, gathered around the small, wooden dining table. Miriam, Hector’s wife, had fixed them all warm soup, made from the sprouts of the vegetables she had discovered growing near the cabin. Plants and vegetables were quite abundant throughout Alundiel it seemed. Under the new rule of Savenur Octavium, things seemed to be looking up.

  Hector smiled at the young boy of twelve, seeing himself in his son.

  “Berek,” he spoke, “why don’t you go and fetch your wooden stave?”

  ”What for, father?” spoke Berek in his youthful tongue.

  “A little practice never hurt anyone,” replied Hector, smiling. Berek grinned and ran off. Miriam, Hector’s wife and Berek’s mother, sighed.

  “Hector, it’s dinner time,” she said. “Hardly time for men with swords.”

  “Miriam, the boy needs to learn,” replied Hector quickly. “One day, he may face some opposition, and when he does...well, he’s going to wish he had skipped dinner for this lesson.”

  “Aye,” replied Miriam, picking up her bowl and walking off into the distance.

  “What did I say?” asked Hector to himself. Berek returned, holding the wooden stick in his small, but strong fingers. Berek looked like his father: light brown hair, all surrounded in curls, growing down below his eyebrows. Azure blue eyes, as magnificent as the sky, held their place in his head. Hector ruffled Berek’s curly head and took him by the shoulder. He led them outside and stopped next to an open path.

  They lived on the outskirts of Belmar, in a small, cozy cabin. Belmar was a large city, positioned next to the Snowcleft Spine, a long and snow-covered mountain range. Their cabin was a little ways away from the Spine and whenever it would snow, they would receive it first. Berek had always noticed something strange about the Spine; at the very top, a light seemed to shine from the mountain. Berek thought it was a magical man living up there, but no one really knew, and no one dared to climb the treacherous mountain.

  “Ready, m’boy?” asked Hector, standing in his fighting position.

  “Ready, father!” yelled Berek, charging straight for Hector. Hector laughed and quickly moved out of the way. Berek swung through the air too soon and lost his balance. He fell to the frosty grass. He growled and rolled over, whacking Hector on the legs. Berek jumped up and swung at Hector’s midsection. It was to no avail, for Hector had blocked it cleanly. His stick locked with Berek’s stick and Hector twisted it. Berek’s fighting stick flew up into the air.

  Hector caught it and aimed both sticks at Berek.

  “You are beaten, son. Never let your anger-,” but Hector could not finish, for Berek had tackled Hector to the ground. Hector laughed and wrestled with Berek.

  “Never allow your sword to be your only weapon!” grunted Berek as he wrestled.

  “A good philosophy, my boy!” shouted Hector, grabbing Berek by the shoulders and pinning him to the ground. He pointed his index finger to Berek and said, “But it is completely useless when you’re fighting a stronger enemy.” Berek grunted and Hector released him. “But it was a good fight,” said Hector, ruffling Berek’s hair again.

  “I lost...” muttered Berek. Hector sighed. He bent down to Berek’s level and they were face to face.

  “Berek, don’t let anyone look down on you. Not even me. And don’t fight for your own gain. Think of the others around you; your friends and your family most importantly.”

  “Ah, alright, father,” said Berek, agreeing. The young boy admired his father and all that he did. After their practice, Hector led his son to the half-plowed fields, where they planned to grow more crops. Berek watched his father work and looked toward the west, seeing the Spine.

  "Father,
why can't we ever go up the mountain?"

  Hector looked troubled. "No, Berek. Do not ever go up that mountain. It is very dangerous."

  "Why is it dangerous?"

  Hector bent down and looked at his son in the eyes. "Because there are bad things up there. Evil things."

  "Evil?" asked Berek.

  Hector nodded his head. "There is good and there is evil. Some men believe there is only power. But evil will always be there, just as good will too. We must conquer evil with good, always."

  "How?"

  Hector smiled warmly. "With love. And there is one kind of love that is the most powerful of them all."

  Berek looked up at his father curiously. "And what's that?"

  "A father's love."

  * * *

  ”Come to me,” spoke a creature in his demonic tongue.

  “Who are you?” whispered Berek. He was standing in a strange mist. In front of him stood a gold-colored figure, clad in the finest gold armor possible. Berek looked closer and saw two swords strapped to his waist.

  ”Come, my boy, and you shall have riches upon riches...”

  “Just leave me alone!” shouted Berek, turning away from the entity. When Berek turned around, he saw a strange sight. The Spine was in his view and at the very top, the light growing as bright as ever. The light was as gold-colored as the strange man’s armor had been.

  ”Seek me...”

  ”No!” yelled Berek.

  * * *

  “No!” yelled Berek from his bed. He felt beads of sweat form on his head. He looked around. He heard his father snoring, so it meant his parents were still asleep and had not heard him. Berek stood up and looked out the glass window.

  The light on the Spine was shining as bright as ever.

  Berek gasped. It was shining just as bright as it had in his dream. It must have been a sign of some sort. The creature who appeared to him in the dream must be trying to get his attention.

  Berek sighed. No, he had no time for this. He did not want dealings with demons. Still, perhaps a great adventure awaited him. Perhaps the demon was calling him to his destiny. Whatever the reason it was, Berek thought it wouldn’t hurt to find out.

  He gathered supplies into a burlap sack quietly, trying not to wake his parents. Berek threw on some warm clothes, for the coldness would be harsh. He quietly escaped his room and came into the living area.

  On the mantle of the fireplace sat a steel knife, called Sufferthorn. Hector had obtained it by a bet at the pub. Berek strapped it to his waist and headed out the cabin. He looked at the Spine. The light was still shining brightly. Berek sighed and walked on toward the Spine and toward his fateful destiny.

  Chapter Two: Shadows Among Dawn

  “C

  ome now, away from the puddle; you will catch a cold.”

  A bulky man with a fierce shadow pulled a little boy up from the street. The elderly village of Dumnok was a dark and secretive place; this village, though he did not realize it at the time, began the adventure of a young man who would change the fates of his descendants forever.

  “Where are we going?” asked the boy of fourteen.

  “To the Eleventh Hour Inn, not far from here. There, we will find proper food and shelter.” The man continuously spoke in a gruff, hard voice. His beard hung down to his chest and he had outsider’s clothing that did not match any other villager at Dumnok.

  They went into the inn and felt cozy and refrained from the cold. The boy went near the fire and saw a maiden nearby; she was young and beautiful.

  ”Excuse me, ma’am, may I have a drink?”

  “Oh dear boy, you seem sick; are you with someone here?” She handed him a mug of water and the old man was flipping coins to the innkeeper’s desk for one night’s stay.

  “Yes, that man over there; although I know not who he is.” The woman seemed suspicious of the man.

  “He sure does look like an outsider; boy, where do you come from?” She came closer and put a warm blanket over him. The man looked off in the distance and had beads of sweat pouring down his face.

  ”I... um, don’t understand...”

  “Excuse me son, speak up. Are you okay?”

  The boy fell to the ground and images flashed in his head, as he could not control his body physically.

  * * *

  TWELVE YEARS LATER…

  “All of you are chosen for a purpose. This purpose was given from our overseer. Yuri, come! The bench awaits! All hail Yuri!”

  The man in the red robe called Yuri to the front. A line of men dressed in robes the color of blood stood left and right in the dark and sacred compound. There were bloodstains on the walls, smeared to form words and many artifacts and old statues were about in the room. Doors led to many secret places and in the middle of the underground temple stood the darkened men.

  “All hail!” shouted all the men and women who stood at attention.

  Yuri walked left and right, inspecting each one. They were dependent, strong, and hungry for blood.

  “You know why you are here,” Yuri began. “For the same purpose I am: for justice to have its part in our little realm of Alundiel. We serve Drahk and his high servant, Zoran. Through Bael Drahk, we have strength and courage to kill those who oppose our ways. We are assassins; we do not take lives for pleasure, but for honor, justice, and most importantly, for our ancestors. We will serve them, and not falter to the world’s traps, for we have never been shaken by a physical realm and therefore I speak in regards for one man. Go to Damorus Zoran for your quest to the cause, and kill those who have sinned and brought mutilation to this culture. I pause for a reply!”

  The red robed men looked at him, and were pleased but none responded. Yuri looked east of the temple and saw a door slightly opened. Blood was dripping from the crack of the door.

  “I will take it from here, Yuri,” spoke one of the acolytes. “The overseer awaits you.” The man pointed to the door where the blood leaked from.

  Yuri pulled his stomach together and tried not to be sick of the odor that was present all around him.

  “Ah, Yuri,” greeted Zoran as Yuri opened the door to his private chamber. “My true assassin; what was it you wanted that day? The day where you asked for a gift; a gift that would give you power and the prestige to be better than the rest. You want to be your own man, and as always you never fail to disappoint.”

  Yuri looked the masked man in the eyes. His voice was wizened and very light. He wore a shimmering silver mask that covered the entirety of his face, save for two pale blue eyes. He had his crimson hood pulled just below the silver forehead of his mask.

  ”I want the gift you offer, my lord!”

  “Ah,” Zoran replied, Yuri sensing a wide grin on his master’s face. Zoran turned around and rummaged through his black desk and returned with a vial of green liquid. “I present to you, the Callous Scales. These scales will enhance your strength and agility, and will allow for almost impenetrable skin. Be sure you will be marked from the society of Alundiel. Some in our worship have this as a temporary use. I can offer you this gift which is eternal.”

  Yuri did not think of the life ahead or his life behind his twenty-six years, as he accepted the gift. Zoran poured upon him this wine of power on the forehead. Yuri was dragged in his conscious, and many scars appeared on his neck as though demons were grabbing for him. He screeched and thought at that moment Zoran was trying to kill him. He tried resisting but Zoran had too much power and held tight to Yuri.

  Yuri’s tears were blood and he cried as if a baby was to pop out of his own stomach. Blood seeped from Yuri’s veins and his muscles grew and his neck became bulky. He had a grim look as a man who had seen many horrors in his life and was now taller than before. He fell to the ground and saw Zoran pleased with the transformation.

  “I have... no weaknesses.” Yuri looked to his right arm and saw a mark of a snake and a staff being covered by it in his bloody scar.

  “You are now a real disciple, and this i
s only the beginning, my servant.”

  Yuri looked amazed of his transformation and then walked back out, as the others were gone, supposedly on another mission. He felt a sudden growing sleepiness and fell asleep in his quarters later on that day.

  Chapter Three: The Awakened Hero

  TWELVE YEARS EARLIER…

  “G

  et a doctor, the boy is going into shock!” The young maiden tried to lift the heavy boy but was unable. He was sweating more than before and his body temperature was high all over.

  “No, leave him, the boy is with me!”

  The bearded man pulled the boy away from the girl’s arm and she then assaulted him. The girl jumped on the man and scratched him with her nails on the neck. He bled profusely.

  “Ah, curse you, woman,” he said as knocked her off and kicked her stomach.

  “Guards, I am being attacked!” Some of the city guards poured in the inn and wrestled the man down.

  “No, you don’t understand. The boy, he is with me!” A guard whacked him in the face with the flat side of his blade.

  “Well, the boy can visit you in the city jail!” The guard whacked him again and again until he bled on the cheek. As they dragged him out, they beat him but the man still focused all of his attention on the little boy.

  The boy, who was the young Yuri at the age of fourteen, was knocked out again, as he was struggling for breath.

  “Boy, please! Breathe in and out. Wake up.” She pushed him harshly but it didn’t help. She cursed the bearded man and pushed the boy, trying to wake him from his sickness.

  Finally he showed a sign that he was awake. His black hair was scruffy and messy from the actions that occurred earlier.

  “Boy, you are well?” The woman was at peace again and calmed herself down. The keeper of the inn and a few other solicitors were conversing amongst each other of the situation. She breathed in harder again trying to catch her breath. “Tell me, boy, what is your name?”