The Sword and the Shadows_The First Chronicle

by Patrick Kriener

  Suddenly Yuri saw Vormis near the cave. He worriedly stated, “Tablitha, Yuri…come in, a bad storm comes quickly our way.”

  Yuri then looked at Tablitha, bearing a smile. “I think we should return to our quarters,” she said, returning her beautiful smile.

  Yuri agreed and walked behind Tablitha, holding the tablet as a gift from her.

  As they entered back in, Zoran and Dalkreen were seen talking near the terrace. Dalkreen had a face of disappointment as Zoran went back to the lower level.

  Yuri had to find out more and walked to Dalkreen, seeing Tablitha and Vormis go back to the living quarters of the temple.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Aleazar Lends a Hand

  T he Reptikar tribe cheered and shouted around Berek. He became nervous and apprehensive. Roark was his ally; he was not going to simply murder the man. Berek thought himself foolish, for it was he who had chosen to do this. Berek looked once again at Roark, giving an apologetic look in his eyes. Roark sighed as well. The tribe shouted for bloodshed, as they were a very barbaric tribe.

  “Get on with it!” yelled Gorzon, pushing Berek in Roark’s direction.

  Berek gripped his spear in case Roark attempted anything. Roark also held the spear tightly, as he looked at Berek nervously. Finally, he lost all nervousness and had a hard look in his eyes.

  “You got us into this, Berek,” he said. “I am sorry, but it was your choice. I will not die, for I need to get that sword, if it is indeed our chance at stopping the Ancients.”

  “I understand,” replied Berek, “without condoning or condemning.”

  Roark nodded, saying, “Then let us struggle for our lives.” Suddenly, he thrust out his spear at Berek. Berek quickly blocked it with his spear, rolling out of the way. Roark growled and slammed down his spear toward Berek. He once again rolled out of the way, and then made a slicing move as he slashed Roark across his foot. Roark groaned as blood came from his ankle. He swung his spear at Berek’s head. Berek quickly blocked it, but Roark’s strength was greater.

  Berek fell to the ground, dropping his spear from the shock of Roark’s spear hitting his. Roark turned and looked at Berek, a savage look in his eyes. Roark stabbed downward, but at that moment, Berek quickly rolled away. He stood up and kicked Roark in the side. Roark fell to the ground. While he was distracted, Berek picked up his spear he had dropped. Roark then got up and thrust out his spear several times, but each time Berek would block it with great skill.

  Aleazar and Helen looked at them with fear of losing one of their own comrades. Helen personally did not want Roark to win, and kill Berek. Something about Berek gave her strange feelings.

  Aleazar, however, wanted Berek to die, but he knew if this happened, he would get blamed for it. He groaned in disgust, as he thought of this. Suddenly, he had an idea. He knew his elf magic was not too great, and could not bring a person back to life. Their mass was too great. However, the rabbit’s mass was small, and perhaps his elf magic was enough. The reason why Roark and Berek were fighting was because the rabbit was killed. But if it was brought back to life...

  Berek once again blocked an attack from Roark, making several stabbing moves after this had happened. One of the stabs sliced Roark across the arm. Roark growled and grabbed Berek’s spear when he had thrust it out again. He pulled it away from Berek’s grasp and threw it to the ground. Roark shouted and stabbed at Berek. He stabbed into Berek’s leg, as fresh blood seeped through it. Berek became weakened by this and he fell to the ground. The Reptikars screamed for Roark to finish it off, to kill Berek and spill blood. Berek fell to his back, looking up at Roark standing over him. Roark pointed to spear tip to his throat.

  “I am sorry, my friend,” said Roark. “But it must be done.”

  “I know,” replied Berek. “Do it.”

  Roark took a deep breath, pulled the spear back, and sent it flying forward.

  “Wait!” shouted Gorzon. Roark immediately stopped right when the tip was about to stab into Berek’s throat. Roark turned and saw Gorzon pointing to the ground. “Look!”

  The small rabbit on the ground was alive, strangely. It looked up at them all with bright eyes, finally hopping away into the forest.

  “It seems the Forest of Argnon has spared your life, Dwa’iin,” said Gorzon after a moment’s silence. “By bringing the rabbit back to life, the debt of bloodshed is paid. Release them.”

  The Reptikars holding Helen and Aleazar came off of them. The tribe had disappointed looks on their faces. Helen rushed to Berek, picked him up, and embraced him tightly. Berek’s heart was beating fast after this. He looked at Roark with fear, but the Crimgurd also pulled him into an embrace.

  “I’m so glad I didn’t have to kill you!” he said in Berek’s ear.

  “You almost did,” replied Berek with a grin. Aleazar came to Berek and looked at him with a sneer.

  “As much as I liked seeing you injured,” he said, “I just saved your life.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Berek, expecting a snide answer.

  “I used my elf magic to bring the rabbit to life,” whispered Aleazar, trying to keep his voice low. “Let’s see...the second time I’ve saved your life?”

  “Right,” grumbled Berek. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Dwa’iin. If you get past the stupidity and the ego, you’re not so bad at all.”

  “Why, I ought to-“

  “Dwa’iin,” spoke Gorzon, walking to Berek. “I need to speak with you.” He looked at the others. “Alone.”

  “Why?” asked Berek. “So you can pit more of us against each other?”

  “No, Dwa’iin, just let me have a word with you. A word of apology.”

  “Fine,” agreed Berek. He left the others standing there, congregating with one another. He walked with Gorzon, away from the clearing and into the forest. The sun was falling quick in the sky and night was fast approaching.

  “This forest is old, Dwa’iin, and near death,” spoke Gorzon, looking around the trees. “In order to preserve life here, we had to protect it from outsiders, such as yourselves. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do, but that is no reason to make me fight one of my own to the death!”

  “I know; perhaps we were too cruel with your punishment.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Just know I am sorry, and I ask for your forgiveness.”

  “I forgive you,” replied Berek, turning to face Gorzon. “But don’t do anything barbaric like that again, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  “Agreed. You have a strange code of honor, Dwa’iin. You have a connection with your group that I may never understand. You may be a better leader than I.”

  “I don’t think so,” murmured Berek.

  “Well, I do. What I’m trying to say is, if you ever need someone to fight for you, I respect you enough to be that person. In fact, I think my tribe would agree.”

  “Right, thank you for your offer,” replied Berek. “I will look into it in the future. Right now, we are on a mission to find a sword of old.”

  “A sword?” asked Gorzon, with an interested tone.

  “Yes. Dawnfrost, the Sword of Ice.”

  Gorzon fell quiet and walked a few paces away from Berek. Berek wondered why he did this, and followed close to him. They began to walk further into the forest, without a word spoken between them. Finally, Berek could not hold it any longer.

  “What do you know about it?”

  Gorzon stopped in his tracks and turned to face Berek. “If you are searching for the sword, then you must have known Hector of Belmar.”

  Berek’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, he was my father. He was killed many years ago.”

  “Yes,” Gorzon said, looking deeply at Berek, “I see his face in you. Hector never told anyone about the sword. It was his secret alone, and no one knew except for me.”

  “Wait, how did you know my father?”

  “I served him during...” Gorzon hesitated.

  �
��Tell me!” pleaded Berek.

  “I’m afraid I cannot give you what you seek. I am not the person to be asking.”

  “Then who?”

  “She lives on the edge of the Spine, north of here. She is an old hag, practicing in mysticism and magic, but she is also a very powerful sorceress. She knew Hector very well, and I believe she can give you the answers you seek.”

  Berek nodded. “Thank you, for everything.”

  Gorzon placed a scaly hand on Berek. “The son of Hector is always welcome in my tribe. Come; let us walk back to the others.”

  By the time they arrived in the clearing, night had fallen. A campfire was built in the middle, and the three were sitting around it. When they saw Berek and Gorzon approach, they stood up. Helen rushed to Berek, grabbing his hand.

  “What took you so long?” she asked.

  “Just chatting,” replied Berek, looking at Gorzon. “We now have our destination for Dawnfrost.”

  “Yes,” agreed Gorzon. “I suggest you get a move on now. Good luck, young adventurers, I hope ours paths cross again.”

  “Yeah, right,” muttered Roark, tying a cloth around his wounded foot. They made torches from the campfire, while Berek filled them in on what Gorzon had spoken with him. Finally, they set off toward the edge of the Spine, where Berek hoped his questions would be answered, and he would claim Dawnfrost.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Trek to the Spine

  T he group headed toward the Spine, feeling the air and the temperature drop a hundred degrees. They shivered and wrapped themselves with thick clothing, such as fur and coats. Berek came close to Helen, and put his arm around her for warmth. Roark and Aleazar looked at each other with their eyes rolled, but they continued to hike. Snow was falling quickly against their faces. They had already begun to shiver and freeze their bones. They climbed the hard rocks up the mountain. The hill they took to get to the top was horizontally sloped, so it was easy to climb, yet the snow and the harsh wind made it much harder. Berek could not even see, for the snow was too great and the wind was strong.

  “How much longer, Dwa’iin?” yelled Aleazar, freezing.

  “I don’t know, Aleazar!” shouted Berek. “He said the witch was on the edge of the Spine!”

  “What?” yelled Aleazar in return.

  “She’s on the edge of the Spine! That’s where we’re going!”

  “What?”

  “Just follow me!” Berek grunted and came away from Helen. He did however reach for her hand and pulled her along as he walked. He walked in front of Aleazar and Roark, leading them along the way. The snow was just as deadly at night as it was in the day, perhaps even more dangerous. The darkness cast a pitch black sense over the mountain, which added to Berek’s lack of sight. Berek sighed, and knew if he failed now, he would never get the chance to find out his answers from the witch.

  “What kind of person would live in these lands?” asked Roark.

  “The kind of person who practices in sorcery and magic!” answered Berek.

  “Obviously!”

  They climbed higher, always alert and keeping a good bearing on where they were. Gorzon had said the edge of the Spine was where the witch was found. Berek had no idea if he was on the edge or not. The wind howled and screamed in his ear, blocking his hearing for just a moment. Snowflakes in quantities of thousands flew toward his face, hitting him every time.

  Suddenly, the snow and the wind grew ten times bigger, and all Berek could see was the white of the snow. He felt Helen’s hand leave his, and he cried out.

  “Helen! Stay together!” But his voice was lost in the wind. Berek had to struggle to even move a step. The wind and the snow surrounded him on all sides, blocking him from everything. He heard a distant scream, and knew it was Helen. He shouted out her name, but it was null; the wind overpowered his voice with its own. Berek began feeling very weak, and suddenly lost his balance and fell to the snow, sinking deeper and deeper into the ground.

  ***

  Berek was back in the mist of the demon. He was definitely dreaming. Only this time, there was no demon, no Melageth. Instead a body was lying on the ground in front of him. The body was all bloodied up, covered with scars and wounds. Blood seeped from them, surrounding it in a thin oval. Berek walked closer with apprehension, trying to keep his courage. As Berek got closer with each step, he saw the body up in view. It was a woman, a little older than he, obviously dead. Berek gulped and looked closer. She looked so familiar, yet Berek knew he had never seen her. Or had he?

  “What trickery is this?” asked Berek out loud. Suddenly, the body disappeared. In its place stood Melageth. Yet this time, he was completely different. His golden armor was gone, replaced by obsidian-like armor, with a long black sword strapped to his waist. Melageth hovered over Berek with his hands at his waist. Berek looked up at the demon’s face, seeing only a spiked helmet, similar to the Ancients’ helmets they wore. Two white eyes looked down on him. A long, purple cape was seen behind him. He looked similar to Seraph in form, yet possessed a presence like no other.

  “Flee my dreams, demon!” yelled Berek, moving back quickly. Melageth did not say a word, and continued to glare at him. Berek was surprised at this; the demon had always spoken somehow. Suddenly, Melageth lifted up his black-gloved hand and pointed to the east. Berek followed his gaze and saw a strange sight. It appeared he was in a battle-field all of the sudden. Dead soldiers bearing the armor of the Octaviums were scattered abroad the field, blood covering them.

  Berek looked closer and saw a group of men in armor, standing over something. Berek walked closer and saw these men were also clad in the Octavium armor. One of them, however, Berek knew was Eretus Octavium, the current dying Emperor’s ancestor. This was obviously a vision of the past. Octavium was dressed in fine armor, brimmed with the brightest gold. He held a gold sword in his hands, as he was pointing it to the ground. Berek looked closer and saw Melageth on the ground, wounded. He stared up at the soldiers with hate and malice.

  “What to do with you, demon?” said Octavium with such force.

  “Let me go,” said Melageth in a voice as dark as the night. “Let me go to Furyion, to be with my fellow comrade, Drahk. I will never return to this Alundiel, this I promise.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said Octavium. “You murdered great men. You set fire to the villages, all for your quest of domination.”

  “A quest of justice,” replied Melageth, “to rid the world, not of men, but of the evils that beset them. Armies, military compounds...the Octaviums. It is like a drug, and you men are the pushers. I sought to use my Ancients to share their knowledge with the knowledge of men. But you insist they are evil and must be cast down, like me.”

  “You are a liar,” spoke Octavium, “a thief, a murderer, and a cruel conqueror. You will be cast down, and you shall never return.”

  Melageth looked at them for a moment, but suddenly his complexion changed. He grew more feral-looking and growled at the men, quickly pounding on one of them. Octavium turned to a soldier quickly and nodded. The soldier ran and came close to Melageth. The solider stabbed a blue sword into the back of Melageth. Melageth growled and yelled in pain. The soldier pulled the blue sword out quickly, running to stand beside Eretus Octavium.

  Octavium took out a small, golden crystal and held it in front of him. He spoke in a strange language, pointing the golden crystal in front of him.

  “Anáil nathrach, ortha bháis is beatha, do chéal déanaimh,” he spoke.

  Berek did not know the language, but saw that Melageth was twisting and writhing around. He held a hand to his ears as Eretus fiercely continued to say the speech.

  “Anáil nathrach, ortha bháis is beatha, do chéal déanaimh!”

  “No!”

  “Anáil nathrach, ortha bháis is beatha, do chéal déanaimh!”

  “NO!” Suddenly, Melageth’s form began to disappear and his form turned into a black mist. The mist flew in the air, but suddenly surrounded the golden crystal.
The mist disappeared and a thin, black color appeared in the middle of the crystal. Eretus looked satisfied. He turned to the soldier holding the blue sword.

  “Hector, take this back to the Shieldvanes. Find a good hiding place for it, so the demon may never be unleashed again.”

  Berek gasped and looked close, seeing the solider taking off his helmet. It was his father, although twenty years younger.

  “Yes sir,” he replied, sheathing the blue sword.

  “Father!” cried Berek, rushing to him, but suddenly, his vision became blurry and all Berek could hear was the laughter of Melageth and all he could see was darkness.

  ***

  Berek’s eyes flew open. He was lying in cold snow; his feet and his lower torso were beneath the ground. Berek pushed with all of his might and stood up, shaking off the snow. The harsh wind and the terrible snow had faded, and all that was left was the night sky. Berek looked around. He was alone. He could not find his group anywhere. He shouted their names, but it was useless. Berek missed Helen most of all. She had been so beautiful.

  “Berek!” shouted a voice. He turned and saw Helen and the others running toward him. He was very glad to see them again. Helen came to him and embraced him.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Berek, the wind and the snow overcame us! And then, all of the sudden, it just disappeared!”

  Berek nodded. “Good. I’m glad you’re alright.”

  Helen seemed to blush. “I am. Now that I know you are.”

  Berek smiled, feeling the same feeling he had when he first met her. “I suppose we need to keep looking for the witch’s shack.”

  “No need!” she said, smiling. She grabbed his hand and led him near the others. The walked a long ways, finally coming to a huge rock. They crouched down behind the rock and Berek looked to the north. A lone shack was at the bottom of the hill. It looked very old and worn out. Skulls and bottles of liquid surrounded the exterior. Berek looked at the others and nodded. He came out from the rock and traveled downward, coming close to the shack. He looked carefully into it, seeing nothing.