by James Day
“Beautiful day,” she said with a lapsed countenance.
“It's been too long,” he smiled trying to face her eyes.
“You must seek this Allenor out. He may aid you in finding Dunnganon,” Brea managed while confronting his denial.
“Dunnganon,” the name trailed away from his lips.
“I must go home,” Brea grasped his hand.
“I will journey to the Snap to get aid. Maybe, I can find someone to lead me to the Fang.” Dayven gestured toward the west knowing that this was his last chance. “If I do not meet this Mystic, I will come for you,” he grasped her waist and pulled her frame toward his body. She hesitated in fear, knowing that her true feelings could not be seen. The Southlander pulled his frame and embraced her. Brea was lost in the unlocking gaze of his eyes. A tear streamed down her cheek and she said nothing as they held one another. She went to speak, but he silenced her with a hush.
They kissed.
In their last hour together, Brea explained where she had come from. Brea knew the Snap and had previously lived in the Eastland. She explained her people and their village near Ripple Lake. She was from the vast forestlands of Wilder Run which were due south of River Run. Brea had left her people for specific amount of various reasons, which she did not directly disclose, to the Southlander. It was from that peaceful place she had traveled into the Westlands to upper regions of Sunken Valley. She had built a home and stayed there. Brea did not explain her immediacy to return home and Dayven accepted no answers. The Wildergirl had a deep sense of remorse over their parting. She had to get back and get on with her life, which she had given up for the quest of Dunnganon. She recalled the regrets, but the bond they had developed had grown and bloomed. Brea realized she was in love with him and that nothing could break the old friendship that developed over the past year. She had sacrificed a part of her being to help him. It was strange and she did not fully know the reasons for her actions. The Wildergirl and Southlander spoke about their trip to Wolven Oak, their witness to the powerful armies of Evil One. The destruction and the rebuilding of Shannon which had passed while one their long journey to faraway lands in search of the Mystic, Dunnganon. At last the strange underground world of the Rockdwellers. It had all passed them by in a matter of days.
The company parted and said goodbye. Brea left the three men standing in the clearing as her frame disappeared into the cold lonely timberland. Dayven did not say much, Bellower felt a strange loss for the girl, and Sly was glad to see her gone. After a long discussion, Bellower had decided to help Dayven on his way to the Shadow Mountains. The Gnome had certain resignations but found the elf interesting. Sly followed behind, lost in his own insecurities. The Gnome chieftain would return to the Green Mountains, stripped of all honor and forced to work in the silver mines. That was ample punishment for him. Bellower developed a different idea in mind, a small journey to the city of Blue Shimmer would be made. It was a few days journey directly north of Forevergreen. He would buy himself a steed and make the trip up north in no time. There, he could work in the vast city for cheap wages and room and board. Blue Shimmer was a large city surrounded by a huge lake. It was a type of island with seven towering mountains that shielded it from the harsh weather of Squall Vale. A few thousand lived in the huge city that was partially protected by the lake. The people had a small government with two parties that voted on all issues which came before the Freedom Council. It was there that all major decisions involving trade, fishing and hunting were made. Trade was extremely plentiful with the Dwarves and Gnomes of the regions. The small farmlands of Red Forest and Timberland grew the food and transported it daily to the city markets to sell for a good profit. Riverman fished in the White Rapids river fed into the Blue Shimmer and twisted sharply east through the Timberlands to wind further south to the driest region Hell Scape. The desert like Southland was considered dangerous and off limits to travelers. Bellower told them of the dark legend of the Black Tower and it's strange enchanting magic of evil. Across to the east were the Black Pyramids which were spread out along the Lost Valley and Red Plains. Powerful wizards and enchanters had once ruled the ancient city with their dark arts. They summoned Demons and Goblins to work as slaves in creating the Master City which marched and destroyed the Gnomes and Dwarves by enslaving their peoples. It was only through the treachery of the Kings and Wizards that had brought about their own downfall during a great war which altered the land forever. A powerful priestess had called forth the strongest creature of hell to come forth and aid them, the Black Dragon. The serpent destroyed thousands of lives, burned everything across the Six Providences. At the onslaught, when the great Elven Kings came to fight with their Elven Mages and spells. It was then the great King forged a blade from the lands, took the magic and made a Promise. It was then, the Elven race became the most powerful and obtained the magic of the lands to stop the Black Dragon. This war was fought high on the edge of the Black Tower. After the war, the blade was handed down to heir of the throne. The Elven King then struck a pact with the great Mystics of Shannon and established the Elven Homeland in the Midlands. Bellower then cut his story short, leaving the others mesmerized by the ancient lore.
“The Promise? What was it?” Dayven asked quizzically.
“I do not know. It is only written down in the ancient Elven spell books. They disappeared during the Transformations. Another long tale.” Bellower kept surveyed the horizon to see the distant Dragons Spine.
“I know of that tale. What is the name of the blade? The weapon used?” The Southlander wanted to know more about trip own history.
“The Gnome scriptures do not name it. You see our history and yours are a little different,” Bellower explained. “All the races have written it down differently,” the Gnome added.
“Which is the correct one?” The elf continued.
“All of them.” Bellower smiled. “It is only a small fragment of history which humankind lives out.”
“Yes, yes,” Sly stated. “There is always a constant war between the forces of good and evil.”
“Which do you stand for?” Bellower challenged.
“Neither,” his answer was quick.
“I suggest we get moving,” Dayven said eagerly.
“I will lead you to the Snap and then from there you will gain passage to the Shadow Mountains.”
Sly huffed at his words and turned to face the long, row of hickories and oaks that exploded in a brilliance of colors. With the wind blowing against them in a silent autumn day, they moved eastward.
Dayven’s journey in search of Allenor had begun.
Two days of rain had swept the Midlands with a blinding force. Brea awoke in the stillness of her home. The wooden cabin had accumulated a large amount of dust. She restlessly took the sheets off the furniture and looked out the window. A great oak stood in front of the house, leaves spotted with rust and green. The harsh blowing winds roared through the great boughs with a humming whistle. Beyond the tree and on the side of the home was the barn. Its massive roof arched high and leaves blew wildly off the worn shingles. Brea examined the growth of flowers, which were now wilting and closing, for the cold winter ahead. She silently cooked a morning meal and noticed a large stillness around her home. The forest seemed disturbed by a growing force. Birds and insects were not heard or seen. After she cooked the morning meal, she went out to see the surrounding area. A thick gray haze hung over the timberlands of Sunken Valley. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She stepped out onto the small porch and let out a whistle. The forest carried her tune through its wooden limbs, down babbling brooks and mellow streams. A flash of black came out with roaring cry. Something huge and fast darted out of the glen into the, clearing. She smiled with exhilaration to see an old friend.
Dreamscape.
The steed galloped full force at the home and slowed to a trot. It wicker before her in delight as she marveled at his beauty. Strong muscular limbs flexed wickedly, and a shining dark coat gleam
ed underneath the stormy sky. Down a trail a small body appeared to be running at her home. She stepped further to see a man in hunting garb, his hair white and face aged. He ran with a crossbow strapped to his back. Brea noticed a fantastic glow and growing thunderheads directly in front of her. The man seemed to struggle along as she smiled at his coming. His brown cloak rushed behind his aged frame as he came up to her out of breath.
“They're coming!” he yelled with a stunning voice.
“What's wrong?” she replied with a few strides to greet him.
“Leave this place,” the aged man with iron crossbow said catching his breath.
“Why should I do such a thing?” Brea folded her arms.
“Look before you girl!” He seemed preoccupied in lost thoughts.
It stunned Brea with full impact as she realized why the forest was so quiet. It was not the beautiful red leaves that reflected off the trees, not blackened storm clouds, but fire. A crimson fire burned before the forest as the wisps of smoke passed before her. The entire valley was ablaze. Flames leapt in a grinding explosion consuming pines in seconds.
“Damn Ogres, things of darkness. Burned the entire valley!” The old man huffed as Dreamscape sensed the burning forest.
“Why?” she said pleaded as the fire swept a line of trees.
“Where have you been girl? Ogres, Slavelings and those red deviled things have destroyed Impassable Breach. They have burned the entire Sunken Valley. This is the last of their approach. They head east. Thousands of them!”
Brea felt a horrible sudden coldness approach as she turned to see a dark form enter the glen. Around it were creatures that were hunched over, some walked on two legs, others on all fours. The spectral form came into the clearing as she witnessed the things around it, things of darkness.
“Confounded Seekers.” The old man took his crossbow out and loaded it with a steel tipped arrow. He cocked it and screamed to Brea. “Stand your ground the devil things approach.”
Brea could not believe what was happening. The entire timberland burned behind them as the dark demons continued their path directly toward her home. Smoke and flame jumped as the rush of heat sucked the air into a vacuum feeding the fire.
The man released the crossbow and one of the hunched things exploded into a dark fire. The Crimson Seeker stepped forward as it rose its left hand. Brea felt a seizing terror grip her heart as she witnessed the dark magic of the Seeker. Another creature went down as the old man reloaded and fired sending the arrow past the cloaked creature. Its hand glowed a fierce red, a glowing flame expanded in its hand and Brea heard Dreamscape scream. She examined the sky around and suddenly the entire world was ablaze. The great timberlands exploded all around them in wake of crimson fire. Great pines bent to dark opposing force of flame that surrounded and consumed. The trees around the valley ignited in a screaming fury of crimson light. Damp leaves curled in flame as wood exploded from the new source of destruction which had been released. The great oak in front of her home exploded into flames as the multicolored leaves disintegrated into ashes. The sky blackened as the Seeker remained planted in the glen, a dark illumination feeding its fire to the lands. Brea watched as a great pine was swept into the flame, its stout frame snapped in half and came crashing down to the side of her home. Seconds later fire spread up the roof of her home as the air seemed to thin. The old man grasped her arm as she watched her home burn. The thatched roof burned instantly as she screamed, and tears fell from her face. The man released another arrow that struck the wraithlike body. It screamed in agony and fire exploded in front of the man. Brea felt a force strike down before her as the world spun. She hit the ground dazed and confused and rolled to hear the sounds of screaming. The old man was looking over with blood on his forehead. A confused and tortured look came, and their eyes met. All about them, the forestland burned as she weakly sat up to see the dark things lunging before her. The black devil beasts roared and jumped with glee as the old man held her. Her home collapsed in an explosion of fire as the Crimson Seeker marched forth. The old man reeled to his feet and grasped the bow, he wielded around and let out a terrifying scream. A Deviling went down as he shot another. Brea's shock disappeared as she noticed the flames were about to cut off the only passageway out.
Dreamscape!
Her mind whistled his name and the steed was there. She grabbed the man and mounted as he fired again.
“Black demons!” The old man spat. “I'll destroy you!”
Another arrow was released as it hit the Seeker. It crouched in searing pain as it's red glow of flame altered momentarily. Brea pulled the man up onto the horse and saw huge shadows advancing from behind.
“Behind us!” she screamed as the pair turned in fear. Hands groped and grasped them through the cloud of burning smoke. Suddenly a dark creature struck the old man as screams filled the air and horses galloped. The old man fought the creature as a dagger lashed into its back. It fell over, the dark muscular flesh was lifeless as the man rose to his feet. The Seeker came at him as voices screamed and terror surmounted. The world fell away from the man as he and dark spawn faced one another. The Bowman lifted the crossbow as the Seeker raised its right arm to summon the full crushing power, which would wipe its attackers out. A glimpse of a moment skipped, and arrow was released, It soared through the oncoming fire and struck the cloak of the creature. The Crimson Seeker fell back as its own fire exploded around the Slavelings. An unbelievable rush of flame engulfed the entire, glen as screams were heard. The old man kept his stance as he witnessed the creature drop back behind its own flame. Brea turned and grasped his shoulder.
“We must go!” she said, as the fire seemed to falter.
“Dark magic’s of the Seekers! Seekers and those blackened devils!” He cursed as shadows of men surrounded them.
“He's done it!” An unknown voice issued from the swirling white smoky mist.
“Girl, we must leave this place!” Another voice screamed as the old man stood.
“Look,” A mounting terror unfolded as the pair and others looked at the barrier of flames. “It lives!”
Out of the wall of flames the skeletal cloaked creature moved. Behind it was its dark slaves and missionaries. The old man stood in terror. The arrow had struck it through its heart. The very sense of its dark soul had been pierced, but it had been destroyed! They moved back as it raised claw-like hands to call forth the remaining power. The fire rose before the company as Brea reared Dreamscape about and galloped toward the last known clearing. The old man had disappeared through the smoke as screams rained down behind. The heat of flames chased her back and singed the steeds tail as it went beyond its limit to carry the rider to safety. Suddenly other shadows were around, following her as she passed by trees which seemed to go up in flames.
“Sunken Valley is lost.” She heard the old man behind her.
The shadows kept galloping next to her as the smoke cleared a bit. She coughed and tried to hold her breath as a wave of dizziness made her sick. Her home had been destroyed; the entire valley burned by some unknown force. Creatures darker than twilight itself had materialized out of the vast timberlands. It had come to destroy everything in its path. She felt chills engulf her very being, a striking force of insurmountable fury had nearly snuffed away their lives. It felt like a bad inescapable nightmare in which she could not awake from. All her possessions had been turned to cinders in a matter of seconds. Everything was gone. But somehow, good fortune had been with her by the aid of man. He had stood up to the oncoming evil. He had challenged the very core of a dark thing and succeeded in slowing it. She turned her head as the smoke cleared and saw the Dwarven riders around her. The old man followed her lead as they kept galloping away from the burning land of Sunken Valley.
After a few hours of riding, this strange company had stopped. They settled down and made camp. The Dwarves looked haggard and tired from their unknown journey. The company was clad in a dull gray uniform with leathered armor and black cloaks
. Five Dwarves were in all, as their wind burned faces turned to the old man and the girl. They did not speak much to the pair as they mourned for their fellow companions in silence. One dwarf was badly burned as his body shook from the cold air. They had wrapped him up in warm blankets and placed sap on his charcoal skin. They sat quietly examining the two riders that had stood up to the tremendous force of the Crimson Seeker. The Dwarven Master noticed the old iron crossbow and looked at the aged face of the oldster in front of him. The old man nodded back as their eyes met and a recognition burned inside. It was one of anger. The Dwarven Master stood up before the pair and placed his hands on his bulky waste.
“You!” the curry voice boomed. “I don't believe it. After years of searching, years of looking...” He trailed off as the oldster gave a hard glance to meet his.
“Packer,” the oldsters features twisted. “You recognized me after all of these years.”
“Be silent! Splint Quill!” The Dwarf belted as harsh yellow eyes gazed down on them. “I cannot believe that you are foolish enough to try and defeat the dark devils.”
The others stared at a legend that stood up to meet the Dwarf Master. Splint Quill spoke out in roughened tone. “You left me for dead twenty years ago. But I did not die!” He stepped forward, face to face with his opponent. “I am alive.”
“A legend lives,” Packer shook his head. “It was you who saved me back there when those things came down on me.”
“If I had known...” Splint Quill bit into the silence. “I would have let them destroy you...”
“Enough Archer.” Packer rose to see the uncertainty of his men's expressions. They had heard of the legend that had fought in the Dwarven and Gnome Green Mountain War. He had aided the Gnomes in securing a bridge to let food and supplies through, thus pushing back the Dwarven armies. Splint Quill was a superior archer and could perform unknown feats that no one else could. Age and the years had caught up on him, his hair was white, face wrinkled and nose crooked. He had the appearance of an old helpless man, but the Dwarf knew better.
