Wielder's Rising

by T. B. Christensen

  Traven glanced at Studell nervously. He was reluctant to give up his sword. He didn’t feel comfortable entering a strange new place surrounded by deadly elves without a sword for protection. The lead elf noticed his hesitation.

  “There is no honor in attacking an unarmed opponent,” he stated flatly.

  Traven could tell his hesitation had offended the elf and decided it would be best to do as the elf had requested. He deftly unbuckled his sword and handed it to the other elf whose hand was outstretched. The elf gave a low whistle as he inspected the magnificent weapon and caressed the might stone embedded in its hilt. Traven knelt and retrieved the dagger from its hiding place inside his boot. The lead elf gave a nod of approval as he also handed the dagger over.

  “Please bring the chest and follow me,” the lead elf said as he motioned and the portcullis began to lift. “Mill and Jasper will see to your horses.”

  Traven and Studell followed the two elves as they led the way under the grate. Behind them the two humans took the reins of their horses and slowly followed. The elves led them down the long tunnel-like hallway and into the large courtyard in the center of the keep. The courtyard was surrounded by the tall walls of the keep with numerous windows looking down upon it.

  Traven glanced around at the various windows and wondered how many people there were in the keep. He was still in awe of how new it looked and wondered if perhaps this was not the original keep but a newer one that had been built over the ruins of the original. The large courtyard was empty except for a stable at the far end and three large stone pillars in the center that all curved to meet together at the top.

  The elves led them across the courtyard to a set of large wooden doors that led into the keep. They stopped in front of them and waited as the doors slowly swung open. From inside the keep an extremely old man dressed in the same brown robes as the others shuffled his way out into the courtyard. He had a tall, white staff that he leaned upon heavily as he came forward to meet them. The lead elf stepped forward and whispered something to the elderly man. When the old man’s eyes widened in disbelief, the elf nodded and stepped back.

  “That is the box,” the old man exclaimed pointing at the chest that Studell was still holding. “You have returned Faldor’s chest?”

  “Yes,” Studell replied.

  “Please bring it here,” the old man said with excitement.

  Studell stepped forward and handed the golden chest to the lead elf. The old man motioned, and the lead elf opened the ornately carved chest and held it forward for the old man to look inside. He quickly studied its contents and returned his gaze to Studell.

  “Excuse my lack of manners,” he said. “It has been so long since we have had any visitors.” He then pushed himself up and stood a little straighter. “My name is Eldridge, and I am the keeper of Faldor’s Keep and the secrets it contains. Are you the one who unlocked the chest?”

  “Oh my no,” Studell replied with a chuckle. He turned and pointed to Traven. “Traven is the one who unlocked the chest.” Eldridge quickly turned his focus to Traven and looked him over appraisingly.

  “So young,” he muttered in awe. “I had expected him to be older,” he said to the lead elf. “No matter,” he said as he shrugged. “If you unlocked Faldor’s chest, you are the one!” The keeper turned back to the elves and told them to show the guests to their proper chambers where they could wash up before dinner. “After dinner I will be ready for the ceremony,” he announced to all of them. Having made the announcement, Eldridge smiled and shuffled back into the keep.

  What did the elderly man mean about being ready for a ceremony? What would be taking place tonight? The lead elf gave Traven a long and calculating look, interrupting his thoughts. He then called to the two men who were taking care of their horses to bring their bags.

  “My name is Darian,” the lead elf stated tersely. “Follow me.”

  Traven and Studell hurried to follow as Darian swept into the keep. The two other men followed closely with their bags. The other elf slipped away as they followed Darian up the large stairs that rose from inside the entryway of the keep. At the top of the stairs Darian turned left and led them down a hall. The walls of the hall were covered in bright tapestries. They depicted scenes of wielders of old doing amazing things with the ambience. The tapestries’ colors were so bright and vibrant that the scenes seemed to leap off the fabric. Traven stared at them with wonder. Half way down the hall Darian stopped and opened a door. It led into a modest sized room with a large bed, wardrobe, sitting chair, and washbasin.

  “The guest chamber,” the elf announced. He turned to Studell. “This will be your accommodations while you remain at the keep.”

  “Perfect, perfect,” Studell declared as he walked into the room and looked around.

  Having shown the philosopher his room, Darian beckoned Traven to continue following him down the hall. Traven glanced back to see Studell’s belongings being carried into his room. He expected Darian to stop at the next door, but the elf walked right past it. They passed another door and then another. Traven followed, walking past all of them with confusion. He wondered where the elf was leading him.

  When they finally reached the end of the hall, Darian stopped in front of a large door. He turned and gave Traven another long, calculating look. The elf finally gave his head the slightest of shakes and opened the door.

  “The master wielder’s residence,” he announced. “This is where you will be staying while you remain at the keep.”

  Traven’s mouth fell open as he stepped into the room. It was enormous! There was a large antechamber that was bigger than his grandparents’ entire home. It contained furniture as fancy as any that he had seen in the royal palace. At the far end a pair of doors was open to reveal a large bedroom with a giant bed. His bags were carried through the antechamber and deposited on the bed. As he continued looking around the room, Traven noticed another door that led from the antechamber to somewhere else.

  “Someone will be up in about an hour to lead you to the dining hall,” Darian said curtly. He then paused for a moment before continuing. “No one has stayed in this room since Faldor himself. You will respect this chamber and all of its contents.”

  The elf then closed the door and left him alone in the room. Traven stared at the closed door. It was obvious that Darian wasn’t exactly happy that he would be staying in this suite, and the elf’s last statement had been a threat to be careful with the contents of the room or face consequences. Traven could also tell that the elf had something against him but didn’t understand why. He had just met the elf and hadn’t done anything to warrant the dislike.

  Traven shrugged it off and turned from the door to stare at the room once again. Why had they put him in the master wielder’s suite? What were they expecting from him? He was just a guest like Studell. As he looked around the room at all of the fine furnishings, he knew he would have felt more comfortable in a small, simple room next to the philosopher. He walked across the antechamber and into the bedroom. He was happy to see that his sword and dagger had been deposited on the giant bed with the rest of his belongings.

  He plopped down on the foot of the bed and looked around the room. There was an enormous wardrobe intricately carved with battle scenes, a large desk and chair, and a door. He got off of the bed and opened it. It led to a large balcony that overlooked the courtyard. He closed the door and returned to the bed. He was excited to explore his new surroundings but also tired from the long journey. He laid back and rested for awhile. The bed felt so soft and the thought of sleeping on a comfortable mattress after sleeping on the ground for the past week was almost more than he could resist. However, he forced himself to stand up.

  He wasn’t sure what Eldridge had meant by saying that there would be a ceremony at dinner, but Traven wanted to look presentable for whoever would be there. He had already made a bad impression on Darian and didn’t want to make a bad impression on anyone else. He changed out of the dusty robe t
hat he had worn on his journey through the desert and put on a set of his new black, silver embroidered clothes. He looked at himself in the large mirror that hung in the room. He tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt as best he could but could only do so much for a garment that had been packed away for the last week.

  He then slipped his dagger back into his boot and debated whether or not to strap on his belt and sword. They had returned it to him, but he didn’t want to risk offending anyone. He decided it would be best to put it inside the wardrobe with the rest of his belongings. Looking in the mirror once again, he determined that he was as presentable as he was going to get and left the bedchamber to get a better look at the front room.

  He soon discovered that the antechamber also had a large balcony that overlooked the courtyard below. He was about to go out on it, but his eyes were drawn to the small plain door on the opposite side of the room. He walked over to it, wondering what it led to. He pulled the door open and was met with a burnt and musty smell.

  Directly behind the door, stairs spiraled upwards to a higher level. His room must have been right under the northwest tower of the keep. He looked up the stairs wondering what he would find in the tower. He started forward but stopped when he heard a knock at his door. He quickly shut the door that led up into the tower and made his way over to the door that led to the hall. He opened it and found the man who had helped him with his baggage.

  “Dinner is ready, Master Wielder,” he said politely. “Please follow me.”

  Traven stepped out into the hall, closed the door, and followed the man. In his head, he mused over how the man had addressed him. Did they really think he was a ‘master’ wielder? They hadn’t even seen him do any magic yet. In fact, he wasn’t sure how they even knew he was a wielder at all other than he had been the one to open the chest. While he was a wielder, he was definitely not a master of anything but the sword. He suddenly felt very foolish for allowing them to put him up in the master wielder’s chamber.

  For some reason they thought he was something that he wasn’t, and without realizing what he was doing, he had gone along with it. He began to dread what would soon take place in the dining hall. Most likely everyone in the entire keep would show up at dinner to see a master wielder. He would then have to confess before all of them that he was nothing more than a simple soldier who could light candles with the ambience.

  He continued following, feeling slightly sick to his stomach, as the man led him back down the stairs and to a large set of doors that no doubt led into the dining hall. Traven took a deep breath as the man pushed open the doors. The dining hall was huge, but to his surprise, he found that it was also completely empty but for one person.

  The old man, Eldridge, sat on the far end of the hall at the center of a long table. The table was positioned so that all those seated behind it could look out over the entire dining hall. The old man smiled as Traven was led past the empty tables and to the very front of the hall. He nodded a welcome as Traven was led to the chair at his right. Traven sat down next to Eldridge and surveyed the large hall. It looked like it could easily seat several hundred people. He sat nervously, wondering when the others would be arriving. He recognized that his seat would effectively be putting him on display for all those who came to dine.

  He watched uncomfortably as Studell was led through the doors and to a chair near the head of the table that sat perpendicularly in front of him. At least the philosopher would be nearby. The philosopher smiled excitedly at Traven and sat down. Next walked in three robed elves and one robed man. All four sat down next to the two men who had brought Studell and him into the dining hall. Traven saw Darian but not the other elf from earlier. He also noticed the two new elves and the new human casting quick and calculating glances at him. Then another elf and human slipped into the hall and sat down just inside the doors.

  Eldridge smiled and carefully stood up, using the table for support.

  “Thank you all for being here and preparing everything on such short notice,” he announced. “It has been a very long time since a Master Wielder graced the halls of Faldor’s Keep. We are here to celebrate this momentous occasion. Let the feast begin!”

  The elf and human by the doors got up quickly and left the dining hall. They returned almost immediately, carrying trays of soup and bread. Traven looked around the large room confused. Where was everyone else? The elf and human with the food first served the keeper, Traven, and Studell. They then sat down with the other robed men and began to eat dinner.

  Traven ate his dinner in silent confusion. The warm soup and bread tasted delicious after the dried food the philosopher and he had been eating, but it was hardly a feast. It also almost seemed ridiculous to be using such a large dining hall for only eleven people. The entire group in attendance consisted only of the keeper, Traven, Studell, four elves, and four humans. He realized that he hadn’t really seen anyone else since arriving, not in the halls or in the courtyard. It was hard to believe that such a large keep was only home to five men and four elves.

  When everyone had finished their soup and bread, the elf and human who had served them got up and cleared away the empty bowls. They returned a few minutes later with plates of roasted chicken. It was as good as the soup and the bread had been but definitely not gourmet.

  There was a sense of nervousness and tension in the air that also didn’t make it feel like a celebratory feast. The meal was eaten in silence except for the snatches of whispers that Traven’s ears picked up. He overheard the robed men saying things like “. . . don’t know . . . do you really think . . . all these years . . . fraud if you . . . so young . . .” He tried not to think too much about the snatches he heard. He was grateful when the meal was finished and all of the platters had been cleared away.

  As much as he was not looking forward to confessing that he wasn’t a master wielder, he hoped that he would have the opportunity to find out what was going on. He had just eaten a meal in a keep that should only be a bunch of ruins. On top of that there were elves, creatures that shouldn’t even exist, staring at him. He kept wondering to himself if it was somehow a dream. He had had plenty of dreams in the past year that were very lifelike. He was pulled from his thoughts as Eldridge stood up and addressed the small group.

  “Tonight is a momentous night,” he began. “Our long wait and the even longer wait of those before us have not been in vain. Once again a master wielder roams the halls of Faldor’s Keep!” Traven shifted in his chair uncomfortably as the keeper continued. “The years of solitude, preparation, and caretaking all now have meaning. The vision of Faldor has proven to be correct. Our sacrifices have been justified!”

  Traven watched the excitement on the faces of the four humans and one of the elves. The other three elves just kept looking back and forth skeptically between Eldridge and him. The keeper turned to Traven and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “The keep is yours, and we are at your disposal,” he stated. “I offer all of my knowledge and the guardians of the keep offer their protection and service.”

  Traven sat quietly, trying to process what Eldridge had just said. Was the elderly man serious? It must be some kind of mistake.

  “Just a moment,” Darian said as he rose from his table. “We have sworn to take care of and protect the keep, but as for serving this human boy, to that I have not agreed.”

  “Faldor’s vision clearly stated that the heir of the keep would return the chest and be a master wielder,” one of the humans interjected. “Now I know he appears young, but that is hardly a reason-”

  “Quiet, quiet,” Eldridge said softly, effectively cutting the man off. The two stopped obediently and waited to hear what the keeper had to say.

  “Master Wielder,” he began while smiling at Traven, “please stand and give us an example of your power. We have waited long to see someone actually wield the ambience. Perhaps if you indulge us with a demonstration, those of us who are slow to believe will be placated.”

&
nbsp; Traven stood up slowly, wondering what he should do. He thought of telling them that he wasn’t really a master wielder, but the keeper had expressed so much confidence in him and looked so eager. He didn’t know how to let those who believed in him down, so he decided to do the only thing that he really knew how to.

  He stuck out his hand in front of him and concentrated. Everything grew quiet around him. The air began to thicken and swirl. He carefully visualized a small flame above the palm of his outstretched hand. He wrapped the air around the flame and pulled it into reality.

  There were several gasps as the flame winked into existence. Traven looked around and found the keeper and many of the guardians with large smiles. Several, however, including Darian, looked less than impressed. For some reason Darian’s disapproval upset him the most. Did the elf think he could do any better?

  Traven focused on the small flame with increased determination, and it slowly began to grow in size. As it grew bigger, he realized that he could somewhat control its shape. He wrapped the flickering flame into a ball and felt it become hotter and hotter. It continued to grow larger, a roiling ball of flame until it was bigger than his head. Darkness began to edge in on his vision, but he resisted and willed the ball of intense heat to continue to grow. In the distance he could feel his legs weakening and a burning sensation on his palm.

  His reflexes suddenly took over, and he jerked his hand back. He immediately began to collapse, all of his strength gone. Just before blacking out, he watched as the large ball of flame fell right through the table and splashed onto the stone floor beneath it.

  12

  Traven woke the next morning in an incredibly soft and comfortable bed. The light coming through the windows of the room agitated his headache, so he kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the comfort of the large bed. He knew he was in the master wielder’s suite but couldn’t remember how he had gotten there.