Legend of the Sword Bearer: Tempest Chronicles Book 1

by Jeremy Fabiano

“Okay with Morogan,” he said with a shrug.

  “I’m okay with it as well. We could use the extra strength as well.”

  Morogan looked at the setting sun. “Time Morogan go. Back in morning. Not leave camp. Orcs get angry if leave camp.”

  I nodded. “Good luck, Morogan.” He stood, stretched, and headed for the village.

  As the sun set, we turned in for the night. Morogan had warned us to be well rested, as we would each have to face a strong opponent in ritual combat to prove our worth to the village.

  We awoke with the sunrise and cooked up the last of our eggs. Most important meal and all. Morogan approached on the path with an entourage of muscle-bound Orcs in town. Their expressions were quite serious. As was Morogan’s. All business then.

  “Greetings,” I said.

  “Greetings,” said Morogan. He turned to the Orc on his right. “Ghomoku. This Aba. He want speak with chief.” He paused while Ghomoku sized me up. “Aba. This Ghomoku. He challenges Aba. Prove strong. Or leave.”

  I extended my hand to Ghomoku, and he smacked it away. “Not like Human. Fight Ghomoku or get out,” he said with a growl.

  “Fine,” I said. I squared my shoulders and put my fists up. “Bring it then.” Ghomoku stared, unintimidated. “Come on then,” I said. “I thought you wanted to fight?”

  “Stupid human. Fight in arena. Not camp.” He turned to walk away, his guards mimicking him. “One hour,” he said as he walked away. “Ghomoku smash stupid Human face. If not come, then Aba coward.”

  I flipped him the bird. Garstil snickered. “Well. What a pleasant guy,” I said. “Shall we get going? I kinda want to kick his ass…”

  Morogan laughed. “Aba careful. Ghomoku strongest Orc. Not take lightly. He arena champion.” I nodded. Having cleaned up the campsite earlier, we headed toward the village. And the arena.

  Orcs dressed in every sort of animal hide imaginable lined the narrow dirt road leading to the arena in the center of the village. Some cheered us. Some booed us. Some looked indifferent. We were led into the arena proper. Logs were arranged like bleachers in a circle around a large pit. Heavy log gates as thick as my waist blocked either end of the arena. My friends had a front row seat for the fight. And apparently, after I was done, they’d each take a turn as well. I was guided to the middle of the pit and left there, confused. Ghomoku was nowhere to be seen.

  “Human want to challenge Ghomoku,” an announcer yelled over the crowd. No doubt magically amplified. His voice echoed off the stands. “Ghomoku accept challenge.” The crowd burst into cheers and whistles. “Human challenger name Abalonious. The—what this say? You dumb. This not right.” Murmuring went through the crowd around the announcer. Someone was backhanded off the announcer’s tower.

  I sighed. What the hell was this all about?

  The announcer cleared his throat. “Abalonious, the”—he hesitated—“Sword Bearer.” The gathered crowd exploded in booing and catcalls.

  “Noslen the Sword Bearer. He not Noslen,” I heard one say.

  I pulled out my rune sword and willed power into it. The runes exploded with blue light, and a blast of electricity arced out from me in all directions. The crowd quieted, looking uneasy. “I am the Sword Bearer. Any who wish to challenge, step forward now.” No one in the crowd moved.

  “I challenge,” shouted a voice from on high. His challenge echoed around the arena. Ghomoku. His massive axe gleamed in the sunlight. He reflected it into my eyes. I shielded my eyes. He jumped, dropping the one hundred and fifty feet to the arena floor. On the way down, red lightning exploded from him, and his body size doubled. Burning Rage. He would hit the ground and charge me instantly. He likely had Dash as well. I would have to time this right.

  Arbiter had explained what happened when I blocked the Titan’s sword. An ability called Temporal Shift, part of the bracer, self-activated on instinct. This time, however, it was no accident. Just before Ghomoku hit the ground, I triggered Temporal Shift. His descent slowed to a crawl a foot from the ground, his massive double-bladed axe held high overhead in massive hands. I looked around. The entire crowd was had been massively slowed mid-cheering. I checked the timer: Five seconds left. I Dashed forward as Ghomoku’s foot touched the ground. His knee bent, dissipating the impact, and the ground collapsed slightly, forming a crater. Dust billowed out in super slow motion. I slashed sideways, meeting his axe blade for blade just as time lurched back to normal.

  Our blades connected. A massive shockwave blew dust in every direction. With his axe up in the air and his body off balance, I followed through, inverted the sword, and back-swung for his neck. I stopped half of an inch before making contact. He froze, mouth open wide in surprise. He looked like he’d just shit his…loincloth. The crowd gasped. All of them. At the same time.

  “Yield,” I said, dead serious.

  Ghomoku dropped his axe and grinned. “Humans still stupid,” he said. “Stupid, but prove strong. Aba welcome in Ghorgu.” He offered me his hand, and we traded grips. “Maybe Aba new Sword Bearer. We see.” Cheers erupted from my party members and most of the audience. I even caught a glimpse of Noslen, mingling in the crowd. He smiled at me, satisfied, nodded once, and was gone an instant later. Something else I’d have to take up with him. Ghomoku picked up his axe and hung it from his back. “Good fight,” he said, turning his back and walking toward the exit.

  “You too,” I called out. He waved over his head and exited the arena. I also left with the crowd cheering me on.

  Garstil was challenged next. He seemed quite nervous. “You’ve got this,” I said. “This is no different than anything we’ve dealt with so far. Go out there and show them all who’s boss.”

  Garstil gulped. “I’ve never been one to take the spotlight. I’m much happier just making things happen from behind the curtain.”

  Maniacal grin stretching his features, Sai put his hand on his shoulder. “Garstil. You are one of the bravest men I have ever met. Now get your ass out there and show that guy what you are made of.” He pointed at the robed Orc waiting in the arena, sword drawn.

  Garstil’s face hardened. He scowled. “You’re right. To hell with this guy. Time to go blow off some steam…”

  “That’s the spirit,” I said. Garstil nodded. Electricity built around him, and he jumped over the wooden railing built into the stone wall. It was a good twelve-foot drop. He landed spectacularly in a crouch, lightning exploding outward in a shockwave. His opponent flinched but quickly hid his surprise.

  Someone in the front row began to laugh. “What puny human do with magic? What magic do to stop sword.” He doubled over laughing. “Ghomoku right. Humans is stupid.” Several others laughed as well.

  Garstil ignored the insults and sauntered toward the Orc, grinning. “Ready when you are,” he said. The Orc growled, roared, and then charged. Garstil slung lightning at him and dove sideways. The Orc’s momentum carried him past his target, leaving his back open. A blast of lightning tossed him on his face. He stood with a massive roar. Three massive purple orbs of arcane energy materialized, floating in a circle around Garstil. He smiled.

  The Orc smiled as well. His sword began to glow crimson. Shit. Garstil fired all three orbs in rapid succession. The glowing sword dissipated two, and the Orc dodged the third. A massive concussion wave shook the arena and blasted the Orc back about thirty feet, and his back slammed against the wall. People screamed, startled. The orc growled again, muscles rippling and growing. Red lightning began to arc around him. He grinned from ear to ear.

  13

  Garstil closed his eyes and brought his arms around him in a circle and back to center, left palm over right fist. I had seen a movement like that in some martial arts class as a kid. Power restrained by control or something like that. The hair on my arms stood on end as static electricity began arcing from anything conductive near us. Around Garstil, pebbles began to float and swirl around him. The Orc looked on, not sure what to think of this. Garstil’s eyes slowly opened. They were emitt
ing bluish-white light, his pupils completely gone. Shit. I hope he doesn’t kill the Orc. A sublime glow surrounded his body. He was starting to channel Arcane Infusion to boost his magic.

  The Orc roared and charged, blade held high. Twenty feet. The Orc Dashed. Five feet. Garstil crossed his arms at his wrists forming an “X.” The sword came down hard. I screamed, unable to save him.

  Garstil screamed, anime style. The arena began to rumble and shake as he gathered power within himself. People began to scream. He shoved away with his hands and broke the “X” block as the sword came down on top of him. His hands flew behind him. A shockwave exploded out as he released his spell. Arcane Explosion. He’d mentioned it once, but I’d never seen it in action. The Orc was thrown through the air and landed in the uppermost seats, bowling several spectators over. The shockwave had also tossed most of the first, second, third, and fourth rows back and upward several rows. I looked down to see Garstil on one knee, panting heavily. Lightning arced all around him, and blue fire engulfed his entire body.

  “I am Garstil, The Arcane. Who else dares to challenge?” he demanded. His bellow cracked the very foundations of the wall in front of us as the ground shook. No one approached. He turned toward the exit as the aura of fire faded away. He returned to his seat.

  “Uh, hmm,” he said as he looked around at the collateral damage. “Sorry.” He quietly took his seat, trying to not draw too much attention to himself. The entire arena stared at him, slack-jawed.

  “Well, Sai did tell you to cut loose, but damn, that wasn’t what I was expecting.” I laughed. A few Orcs nearby laughed as well. Others gave nods of approval. A steady buildup of cheers and whistles caught my attention. “They seem to have appreciated your display of power.” Garstil stood and bowed slightly to the crowd. The cheering doubled. Damn, these guys really appreciate strength. And know a good show when they see one.

  Sai stood. “Well, I suppose it is my turn. I hope it is someone strong. I have not had a good sparring partner for quite some time.” He smiled and hopped nimbly over the railing, landing and rolling to dissipate the momentum from the drop. Another Orc also jumped in and stomped up to him.

  “Weapons or fists, your choice,” he said to the Orc.

  The Orc laughed. “Fists,” he said. “More questions?”

  “One. What is your name, warrior?” asked Sai.

  The Orc smiled. “Horknuth, The Agile,” he said.

  “Saiban, The Hand of Justice. I am honored. Shall we begin?”

  The Orc looked taken back. “You honor me, Human…” He hesitated. “Saiban. Yes, we begin,” said Horknuth, now grinning madly. The two opponents squared off. Both took stances I didn’t quite understand, but they looked evenly matched skill-wise. Except that Horknuth towered over Sai…

  Horknuth swung first, his massive fist flying at Sai’s face. He ducked under the punch and dodged left as he brought his leg behind Horknuth’s and clotheslined his chest. Horknuth hit the ground hard but brought his hands up and flipped back to his feet as Sai rolled out of the way. They traded blows back and forth for a good five minutes. Neither gained an advantage over the other. Horknuth swung his leg out, aiming for Sai’s face. Sai blocked it and punched the Orc in the chest six times in the span of half of a second. Four more blows landed on his face before Sai jumped back out of the reach of Horknuth’s long arms. They stopped, squared off, and looked at each other. They both grinned.

  “That was an excellent warm-up. Are we ready to begin?” asked Sai.

  Horknuth laughed. “Thought you never ask. I am ready,” he said.

  A sublime yellow glow faded into existence around both of their bodies. One second, they stood there, facing off. The next, they blurred forward. I couldn’t track them.

  “Holy shit,” said Garstil. “I can’t keep up with their fight.”

  We could hear the rapid-fire staccato impacts of fists and feet hitting bodies. Muffled whoomps filled the air as the two fighters neared the sound barrier. I could only discern a blur down in the arena as the two attempted to best each other.

  Horknuth and Sai suddenly appeared, falling away from each other. They slid for a few feet before coming to a stop. Both of them breathed heavily, shoulders heaving. Sweat dripped from their brows, noses, and ears.

  “Yield?” asked Sai.

  Horknuth shook his head. “Cannot yield.” He thought for a moment. “Draw. Can call draw,” he said. Sai nodded, and they both relaxed. Horknuth turned to the gathered crowd.

  “This Human fight with honor,” he bellowed. “By trial of combat, Saiban is honor brother. Warrior brother.” The crowd exploded into cheers.

  “Thank you, Horknuth,” said Sai. “I look forward to our next duel.”

  The Orc nodded. “As do I, Human, as do I.” They both exited the arena.

  At some point during the fight, Garstil had left to check on the Orc he’d fought. Apparently, his name was Nakgu, and he was just fine. In fact, he was quite excited to find someone who could give him a challenge outside of the Orc village.

  Morogan met up with us at the arena exit, and we were escorted out of the arena as worthy adversaries. It was as damned near a parade as I’d ever been part of. We were congratulated left and right at our victories. All three of us couldn’t help but smile.

  “Morogan take Aba to meet Mother,” he said. “Mother expect Aba.” I nodded and followed him to a large log cabin at the end of one of the dirt paths. It was made of interlocking logs and insulated with mud and straw. Morogan opened the door for me, and I stepped inside. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but soon the torches resting in sconces were more than plenty to see by. An Orc woman kneeled in front of an obsidian stone in the shape of a hexagon. Runes covered its surface, and it glowed with power.

  “Sit with me and pray,” she said. I did as I was told.

  Otherworld greeted me as it usually did. Instant and semi-disorienting location shift. I stood outside a cabin in the woods overlooking some far away village below. Footsteps crunched toward me and I turned. Ghorza stood a few feet from me. Much younger than when I’d just seen her.

  “You do not look surprised to see me. Why is that?” she asked.

  “I’ve seen you before. In Noslen’s memories. He left a crystal for me to find.”

  She smiled. “I see. So, you saw our battle then?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It was…unsettling,” I said.

  She smiled again. “Had you answered any other way, I would have been worried. Come, it is cold out here. Noslen awaits us inside.” I followed her into the cabin. I hadn’t realized I was cold until the door shut and warmth washed over me like a warm blanket. I was in Noslen’s cabin again, but this time, the room was quite different. Instead of the large living room with a meeting table, I stood in a cozy little log cabin. Quite similar to where I entered the game.

  “It is the same cabin if that’s what you’re wondering,” said Noslen, startling me. I rounded on him, furious.

  “You,” I seethed. “You arrogant, self-serving son of a bitch.” Noslen said nothing. “All this time… You could have been helping on this damned quest to save your game."

  Ghorza jumped in my face, unsheathing her twin daggers. She stared down at me, shoulders heaving. “One does not speak to a god in such a manner. I should kill you where you stand for your insolence, Human,” she hissed. I had no doubt that she could.

  Noslen put a calming hand on her shoulder. “It’s quite all right, Ghorza. He is understandably upset. I’m just glad he didn't decide to hit me out of anger.” Noslen smiled and turned to me. “Now, if you’re done with your hissy fit, we have some important matters to discuss…”

  “We do,” I said. “Starting with why you aren’t helping.”

  “The answer to that is quite simple,” said Noslen. The role of the savior is for The Sword Bearer. The last I checked, you now carry that particular mantle of power.” He paused to give me time to soak that up. “My role is now that of The Caret
aker. And thus, I am forbidden from directly interfering with the affairs of mortals.”

  “Forbidden? By who? You’re god here.”

  “I cannot answer that question. Not yet.”

  “So, what you’re saying is you tell me where to go and I do the heavy lifting?” I asked.

  Noslen smiled. “A little simpler than I would have worded it, but, yes. As Caretaker, I have to use my Champions to affect change in the world below,” he said, gesturing out the window.

  “Who made up that rule?” I asked, annoyed.

  “That is not something which is easily answered at this time. Put simply, that was also part of the procedural generation program, as many of the functions within Tempest happen to be. Now, can we get to the matter at hand?”

  I sighed in resignation. “Fine. But we aren’t done talking. One of these days, we’re going to have a very long conversation about a lot of things.” He simply smiled and nodded at me. “What’s on your mind, Noslen?”

  “Well,” he said, hesitating, likely to annoy me. “Congratulations on your new gear. It looks quite good on you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So,” he said. “About getting knocked out, what, four times in a row?”

  “Got captured by Slag. It was…good times,” I said, frowning.

  “Yes, best to avoid those sorts of situations,” he said, more to himself than me. “You have the first artifact they’re after though. That’s good.”

  “About that. What exactly are we supposed to do with it?” I asked.

  “Simply keep it away from the bad guys at all costs. Use its magic, if you must. But it can have…negative effects. If not careful.”

  “Great,” I said. “More good news.”

  Noslen smiled. “Cheer up, Abalonious, things could always be worse. You’ve got a wonderful, dependable team who has your back. And where you’re going next, there are more artifacts. You like upgrades, don’t you?”

  What the hell? Noslen’s acting kind of weird… “Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked, not concerned.