The Sword and the Shadows_The First Chronicle

by Patrick Kriener

  Berek walked around the cabin, climbing the hill that stood to the left of it. The hill was covered in white snow, and Berek bent his knees, so as to not fall down. He climbed it, and when it reached its highest, he turned left and walked around the cabin. A small hole was dug around the cabin. In the center of the snowy hole was a small circle; Jarem was right. The manhole was very distinct against the snow.

  Berek stumbled down into the center behind the cabin. He pulled the lid off the manhole and stared down into the blackness. Suddenly, a great, cold wind blew from inside the manhole, spraying him full in the face. When it was gone, Berek smelled a rank stench. He placed his legs first into the manhole and found a small ladder leading down. He took a deep breath and descended down beneath the earth.

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Swear of Vengeance

  D alkreen had much confusion in his heart. He felt Yuri was in grave danger as he looked at Tablitha standing near him.

  “I... we were attacked by the same ones who killed Hulio!” Tablitha spoke in great rage.

  “You must understand, we need to find the others. Tell me again, you saw Kullian and Vormis activate the spell of teleportation... right?”

  “They did, yes, they did. But they are not here! Yuri... he may be dead!” Dalkreen put his hand on Tablitha’s shoulder as she tried to settle down. “It happened so fast, I had no time to act. But Yuri, he was grave to the team’s accomplishments; we will not go on missions anymore until we find him.”

  Dalkreen saw Zoran stare right in his eyes in the near distance. Dalkreen told Tablitha to get some rest, so she returned to her quarters. He wondered whatever happened with Kullian and Vormis.

  Dark chants were heard from the Blood priests in the distance. Dalkreen saw Zoran disrobing his traditional coat for daily worship ceremonies.

  “Zoran, we must talk.” Dalkreen seemed serious enough to Zoran.

  “Very well Dalkreen, speak yourself through.”

  “It is about Yuri; he was kidnapped by the same accursed murderers that hampered the last mission.”

  “I know about the...”

  Dalkreen interrupted Zoran and slammed his fists on the near wall of concrete. “No… you don’t! Hulio is dead, Yuri is missing and two of Yuri’s assistants were never teleported back here! You don’t think this is strange?”

  Zoran paused as three royal guards with spears entered the room. Zoran dismissed the guards and sat on his main throne.

  “I believe I owe an apology for your apathetic being. I was never informed of this... mishap.”

  “Great Lord... Yuri, he is vital to us. He is the chosen one, and we ourselves raised him from birth.”

  Zoran put his left hand behind his back coat pocket and put in a miniature black crystal. As Dalkreen spoke, it seemed Zoran knew all of this already.

  “Tablitha is okay then?”

  Suddenly Dalkreen became suspicious. “How do you know of this?”

  “Well I...” Zoran had to get out of it quickly. “I was told by one of the main chaplains in the Grelents corridor. Besides I am the Lord of this faction, and I know all.”

  “Then tell me... what is Yuri’s fate? Was he slain by the mysterious criminals that openly killed Hulio, as Yuri stated? Yuri also told me of his parents’ death, how all of them died by the same rule of people. They are up to no good, and I intend to find this leader and slay him myself!” Dalkreen was trying to trick Zoran’s answers.

  “Enough! Enough I say! Geh lurchent suros, ealantius ferockt!”

  Dalkreen was surprised of Zoran’s words of profanity, in the Shadows’ ancient language. “How dare you!” Dalkreen put his hand to the left side of his waist. He felt no blade.

  “I believe this is what you are looking for?” Zoran held up Dalkreen’s sword.

  “You haggis! Give it back!” Dalkreen heard the main exit door lock.

  Zoran stood up and threw Dalkreen the steel, heavy blade. “What is your motive... are you telling me you knew of this before it happened?” asked Dalkreen, curious. “Zoran listen, I am your listener and the right-hand man. Tell me everything; are you involved in any way? Is there someone bribing you for information?”

  “You will leave now, and you will attend to Tablitha’s care. I will not see your face for the remainder of the evening!”

  Dalkreen felt a force on his arms and legs. It pushed him to the door and he exited quickly, with no words to speak.

  As Dalkreen sulked back to the quarters, he noticed that Tablitha sat in her bedroll, crying. She never felt so much of a loss over Yuri. Being speechless she felt a presence of love and depression.

  “You feel no emotion for the others?”

  Tablitha was startled. “Hello Dalkreen. It’s just, I have never seen braver soul than Yuri; that man is an impact on my life.”

  “I see emotions are involved now. I believe Yuri is safe, and if in time he does not return, we will do something and sort it out.”

  Tablitha smiled when Dalkreen spoke this. “Zoran…does he know?”

  “Yes, Tablitha. I believe he knows about everything... well enough. So then, enough of this, you should get sleep.” Tablitha turned in for the night as Dalkreen walked near the terrace.

  “I swear this... I will have vengeance on those who slain my loved ones, those who killed the name of peace and love. I will cut them from existence and curse the line of their family.” Dalkreen spoke to himself. He could not understand Zoran’s knowledge of all the things that are happening; all he could do now was pray.

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Sacred Past

  TWENTY-SIX YEARS EARLIER…

  B aldric exited the cave. He spoke to the keeper of the cave, who would ensure Yuri’s safety. Baldric took one last look at the baby who lay upon the circular stone at the entrance.

  “Goodbye my son...” Those were the final words that Yuri heard from his father. As the shadows and mist made the view of his father disappear, Yuri, being only an infant, felt a pain in his heart.

  Baldric stayed near the edge of cliffs, for he could not be seen out in the open. He saw a perimeter defense of the dark-hooded men a few yards in front of him. He heard a distant conversation.

  “Check every mile-radius of the village and its surrounding lands; we must search for the boy!”

  “Sir, we found nothing... nothing but fire and dead land. We killed everyone who moved...”

  “Search harder, for we must find the boy and return to him. Go now!” The supposed captain of the mindless-barbarians led the group of men away.

  Baldric felt a tear run down his eye, as more followed to his cheek. He wondered what they meant about the boy. Who was this boy? He felt cold in his heart, as the leader of the murderers’ guild stood closer to Baldric. He picked up a shattered piece of glass that lay upon the surface of the snow.

  “You... killed my wife!” The man turned around as a shard of glass punctured his neck wide open. Baldric repeatedly stabbed him, as blood splashed across the ground.

  He dropped the sharp glass and saw a horse nearby, and two guards patrolling around the animal. He found a few silver arrows on the dead man and a crossbow that was connected to his leather belt.

  Loading in an arrow, Baldric aimed precisely at the head of one of them; he let go of the wire cable and the arrow pierced the man’s head through.

  “Help over here!” The other unsheathed his blade, after screaming for help. Baldric was too fast, firing the second arrow, which struck him in the leg.

  “You shall not speak!” Baldric ran to the guard and pulled him up. It seemed the guard was paralyzed from the shot of the arrow.

  “Curse you... you will be caught from a distance, and they will kill you.” Baldric ignored the guard as he dragged him through the snow; he then set him down near the cliff rock he was nearby. Baldric swung his fists repeatedly in the guard’s face and bruises filled his face.

  “Curses are upon you and your kingdom. You destroyed my homeland, my wife. My life is ruined... I had a child today... no
more!” Baldric’s fists repeatedly jabbed the guard, until the guard gave his last breath and died. He saw in the hands of the guard a jewel. Baldric opened the dead guard’s hand and took the fine piece of silver. It seemed to have strange markings, a type of language. He put it in his coat pocket and ran back to the recent location of the guards.

  Baldric saw the horse nearby, and no guards were present. He jumped on it, as it seemed to be a well-trained horse.

  “Yaw!” He pulled the reigns of the horse, and it sprinted down the valley. He got as far away as he could, even until the horse gave up. His lungs were filled with icy taste and breathing was a struggle.

  Baldric had a map, which was given to him by the keeper of the cave he visited. He saw a frozen pond nearby. He saw the map, with the same features, that he was below Belmar and right above Tyrok. The Great Forest was in his view. He followed the Red Ring Road, until he reached the very forest. The climate was warm again, and the horse had its strength back. Being thirsty, he tied up the horse near the pond and drank the fresh pond water.

  Night came near and Baldric could not even think of what just happened, for his stamina was weak and he grew tired. Baldric set up blocks of wood he had searched for in the nearby forest, and made a fire. He would head to Rodinfront, for there he could do his unfinished business and try to find more information on the jewel he retrieved from the guard.

  His eyes became heavy as he crawled up to a log and rested his head upon it.

  The next morning, Baldric rose and had aches every inch of his body. He never felt such an emotional pain. He feared for the life of his son, for he had to be quick about his business. He got on the horse and continued to ride closer to Rodinfront. He passed over the Great Forest. The map indicated he was close to aisles of Rodinfront, as he saw a bridge nearby. He got off the horse and walked to a man who blocked the way of the bridge.

  “What business do you have here, outlander?” The man spoke in the distance.

  Baldric replied, “I am headed for Rodinfront! I need to visit my brother there. I am on business, which is all you must know!”

  The man then called a few others to follow up with him. Baldric was suspicious of the activity.

  “It would be most kind if you moved out of the way, for I have no time for lingering in these parts!” Baldric, after shouting, saw this was of no use.

  “You are not passing here, stranger; we hear word of men like you from Belmar. Dangerous folk you are...” Baldric came close to the five men who blocked the entrance of the bridge.

  “Listen here, I am from Belmar. I am escaping from there. Strange men burned my village and killed my wife. My child is safely hidden. The men will never find him. I must see my brother, please!” Baldric bluffed of seeing his brother, but it seemed to work.

  “Very well, pass, but there are no promises of what may happen when you cross the bridge.” Baldric got closer with his horse, reaching the five guards.

  “Why is that?”

  “There are many barbaric men here too; it seems they are not only in Belmar. There was a small raid a week ago on the guard outpost southwest of here, about two miles in distance.”

  “I see...”

  “We advise everyone to travel in packs of three or more. But by your will, you may pass.”

  “I shall pass then!” Baldric pulled the reigns of his horse, crossing the bridge quickly.

  As Baldric looked back the men were gone.

  “Hello?” There was no clear answer, but shouting was heard from a distance. Baldric unsheathed his blade. He was not afraid, as he did not fear death.

  “Show yourself!” Blood-cries were heard, with the clinging of steel and iron. Baldric began to ride through an open valley, which was near Rodinfront.

  An arrow flew through the air, as Baldric looked up. It hit him squarely in the chest. The horse kicked him off, as it ran past the valley, faster than the arrow flew.

  “Ah, please... who is..?” Baldric struggled, his sword was lost, and the crossbow was misplaced after he fell. Another arrow struck the ground near him. Baldric pulled out the arrow from his chest and ran closer to the tip of the valley. There was no sight of the enemy.

  Baldric was losing too much blood. He finally saw from the left and right of the hills, dark-hooded men running to him.

  Baldric recognized them as the same tribe who attacked his village.

  “For Yuri,” Baldric whispered. The first man reached Baldric, but he elbowed the man and tore off a piece of the man’s shoulder pad. He kicked the man down and ducked from the swing of a second one; Baldric shoved the sharp angle of the armor piece in the man’s mouth. He was jabbed in the stomach by one, and pummeled to the ground by another’s blade. Blood filled his mouth.

  He pulled the sword out from one of the attacker’s hands and sliced off his head. He stabbed through another, and tackled three that past him from behind. Repeatedly chopping his way through multiple enemies, the number of the dark men increased.

  Baldric was knocked to the ground, and was stabbed and beaten multiple times.

  “Arenfeyt! Arenfeyt, enoskite!” The group of attackers backed up and stood at attention. Baldric covered his head and stomach from the wounds, and he cried in pain.

  A man came to Baldric, and he was old and looked as a demon would. Perhaps he was a deformed Reptikar in Baldric’s thinking. The man’s white eyes overlooked Baldric. The man reached down and grabbed the jewel from Baldric’s coat. The strange man raised his hand to the air and shouted with the rest of the people, as they all shouted in victory.

  “What are you? You monsters destroyed everything. Die!” Baldric stood up, as the man threw his blade quickly out and slicked through Baldric’s torso. He was sliced in two.

  After this, they all departed from the valley. Baldric was slain, and his body was there for many to see at the entrance of Rodinfront’s gates, upon the valley.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Dawnfrost

  T he darkening descent left Berek a feeling of excitement but also dread. He did not know where this would lead him, or where he should go. Jarem told him to climb down the ladder and reach a door; he must then use the brass key Jarem gave him on the door. Therein, Jarem did not tell Berek where to go next. Berek hoped with his heart nothing foul or dangerous awaited him. He had had enough of always putting his life in mortal peril. For now, thoughts of gaining the sword flowed through his head.

  He climbed further down, gripping each handlebar. It seemed he had climbed forever when at last his boot hit the hard, cold ground. He jumped off the ladder and landed on his feet. The air around him was stifling and humid. He could not see how air could be accessed down here, let alone a ladder with an entrance three stories above. It was dark all around Berek. Berek pulled out his torch he had luckily remembered to carry. He held out his hand and uttered a spell for fire. A flicker of a flame appeared and then grew on the torch. The light from the fire lit up the cave around him. Berek gasped in awe. Crystal formations and stalagmites were seen.

  Berek got close to one and touched its smooth surface. The crystals seemed to have a bluish tint; however the more he looked around, the more he saw that some crystals were golden. Gold as the Crystal of Melageth had been. Berek gulped. He had to concentrate on the real reason he was down here, in order to get back to the others. Berek held out the torch to the north and saw that a long, dark hallway stood before him. He heard the drops of water not far off, and knew a water source had to be around here. The dark hallway seemed to stretch on for miles. Berek took another calming breath and began to walk down the hallway.

  As he walked the crystals and the stalagmites seemed to grow bigger and the tunnel seemed to grow wider. The ground beneath his feet was paved with soft soil, surrounded by shiny silver dots. Berek did not know what these things were, but did not want to linger on the thought. Berek walked faster and picked up speed. The fire on the torch flickered and blew backwards as Berek broke into a run. Suddenly, he stopped. He had heard a strange noise. It s
ounded like an earthquake off into the distance. He quieted his breathing and listened; a rumbling sound filled his ears. Berek turned around, looking on all sides for any strange happening. Nothing was to be seen other than the crystals. Berek shook it off.

  “Pull yourself together,” spoke he to himself. Berek walked on. Soon, the ceiling and the wideness of the tunnel grew to about thirty feet high and fifty feet wide. Finally, at last Berek came to his goal; a large white door stood in his midst. It was white marble; strange markings were seen around it. Letters and symbols of the Wise Ones filled the entirety of the door. It seemed to tell a story of such, for many pictures and markings were on it.

  In the middle of the white door was an outline of what seemed to be a short sword. Berek touched his hand across the smooth marble and stood back. He lowered his torch and searched his pockets, finally pulling out the brass key. He looked for the keyhole somewhere in the door, but he could not find it.

  He looked closer in the middle of the sword outline and saw a small hole in the middle. He stuck the key in; it was a perfect fit. He turned it clockwise and when it reached its zenith, he stood back. A loud rumbling was coming from within the door. Berek picked up his torch and began to walk further backwards.

  Dust of some sort seeped through the edges of the door. A long, black crack was split down the middle of the door. Suddenly, the white door swung wide open. A blast of air, stronger than the one at the manhole, came bursting through the door. Berek was blown backwards and landed on the soil. He was not hurt, for the soil was soft and tender. He stood up and found he no longer needed his torch.

  Within the door, there came a great light of fire; bright and orange it was. Berek came closer and entered the door. He stood in a large, cathedral room. Great pillars of stone and crystal were seen in the corners and around the room, holding up a magnificent ceiling. The ceiling stretched far and wide across the room. The soil ended at the foot of the door, for the ground inside was tiled with stone and Blurite, the metal in which Dawnfrost was forged. Berek marveled in this great wonder.