The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path

by Douglas Van Dyke

  Salgor Bandago was not very useful doing chores for the wizard, but he found another job in Troutbrook that suited him well. He worked for the pub where the hard drinkers of the village congregated. As always, the dwarf felt home in a place devoted to drinking. He even had the chance to brew more of his own drinks, sharing them with the patrons. The pub had no particular need for a bouncer, but Salgor worked cheap and shared a few brewing secrets he had picked up during his journeys. The dwarf continued to demonstrate his method for breathing fireballs out of a swig of dwarven whiskey…though those demonstrations had to be done outside the building. Such spectacles brought in more customers, making the owner of the pub a happy man. Once the new patrons moved inside the building, Salgor found himself as more of a storyteller than a bouncer. The dwarf shared many stories of his travels, and gained much recognition around the local lands.

  * * * * *

  The day Trestan secretly dreaded came to pass, when Korrelothar had researched as much as he could. The wizard had poured over long scrolls from the temple archives, and spent a long examination of the scrap of material wrapped around the third relic stone. The writing on that piece was beyond his ability to translate. What he learned of the temple histories didn’t help greatly, but it illuminated some history on the village artifact. According to the records, the relic arrived during the confusing dark years just after the signing of the Covenant. A priest of Yestreal, reportedly a high-ranking one, settled along the brook when barely any humans lived in the area. He bore the relic, though the histories did not speak of its whereabouts before settling here. His followers erected the sanctuary near a lonely bridge. People settled around the church along the trade route. The church simply handed down the knowledge that the stone was a gift of Yestreal, and it would bring good health and fortunes to their land and crops. No mention had ever been made of its powers to break stone and create guardians. If anything, the history handed down by the original high cleric of the area was either ignorant, or purposely misleading as to the true nature of the relic.

  The elf wizard, having nowhere else to turn for information locally, declared it was time to move on. He intended to follow his original plan of visiting his old friend in Kashmer, then returning to Orlaun and his guild there. He hoped divination or spells might reveal more of the stones, or at least of the strange writing accompanying the third relic. Knowing that the relics dated back to the Godswars, the elf grew concerned about their history and original purpose.

  By the time Korrelothar bid his farewell, the companions felt sorry to see him go. Granted, he had caused them to bend over backwards at times to appease his loss of Dovewing, yet at the same time he had provided a lot of interesting conversation and guidance about small matters. Considering his loss, the companions felt he acted charitably. The companions, as they thought it was only fair, bought Korrelothar a horse for his travels. The wizard in turn thanked them for their help during the summer months. He commended them for acting on behalf of the village in seeking the stolen relic, and forgave them for losing the magical vessel in the process.

  “If you ever visit Orlaun in your travels, just ask for ‘The Highwater Conjuror’, I’ll be happy to receive you as guests.” The companions had heard his nickname before, but none thought to ask him about it. Just like that he was gone; up the road to Kashmer to visit his old friend.

  After Korrelothar left, nothing remained to hold some of the companions to Troutbrook. It was still a small village that saw little adventure or stories aside from fishing. The village may have been home to two of them, but to the rest it was getting to be quite boring. Although they shared a relatively short adventure, a family bond formed. At some point during the summer, the villagers granted them a name, and the group of friends took it as their own. They called themselves the “Companions of the Relics”. Now the first of the Companions was about to say his farewell, though he swore he would see them all again.

  Salgor Bandago was ready to move on to other towns and other pubs in his search for brewing secrets. He swore to build his own inn someday, when he felt like settling down. The dwarf inquired of Katressa about employment as a Kashmer privateer, hunting brigands and tracking bounties. The companions, through Cat, had received a handsome payment after bringing back the holy relic. After all, Lord Verantir Tessald was made aware of their efforts, and Kashmer’s king compensated nobles for rewarding privateers who served their home. Korrelothar made sure to use his political weight with the enamored noble to see that the companions were rewarded rather than executed.

  The dwarf was ready to try heading north first, towards Kashmer. Salgor’s tough exterior never revealed a crack of sadness as he stood ready to leave. His oversized travel pack towered over his back. Some of its pockets were stuffed full with brew: a dwarven travel necessity. The other companions displayed wet eyes as they bid him a good journey. The last evening had been spent drinking and laughing the night away. The morning of his departure dawned solemn and quiet.

  As they gave their goodbyes to Salgor, he leaned in close and give each a tip on life. Some of his advice came straight out of taproom tales, the rest born from the warm heart of a dwarf warrior. When Salgor bent his head to whisper to Mel, he gave the gnome a special salute from one worshipper of Daerkfyre to another. Mel returned it with a smile. Salgor put on one last scowl and warned Mel. “Don’t do anything to embarrass, Daerkfyre. Stand firm nay matter the foe.”

  “I’ll stay strong!” Mel choked through tears.

  The Companions watched for awhile as the oversized pack disappeared up the trail. Salgor never looked back.

  Mel was the next to bid a tearful goodbye.

  “I’m going home to face my family,” Mel stated firmly. “I’m not looking for their acceptance anymore, nor do I care for their respect.”

  The other Companions of the Relics sat at the inn table with him as he explained his choice. The gnome who had always been so easygoing relayed his fears at going home, yet showed determinedness to face the family that had exiled him. Mel continued, “I’m proud of who I am. I’m proud to wield magic. The only reason I’m going there is to flaunt that in front of all of them. They sent me away like I was an embarrassment and that their life would be better off without me. I’m going to show them my life turned out well, and that I have more respect for myself than for them!”

  Trestan, Petrow and Cat patted his back and encouraged him with their blessings. They all wished for the best for Mel. Since his home forest bordered Troutbrook, they all expected that he would return soon for a visit.

  “I still want you all to know, you have been the best friends I have ever known.” The gnome’s lower lip trembled, as his eyes watered. “I’ve always worked hard to get to know people and look for respect, and you all finally gave it to me. You take me for what I am: my faults, oddities, short stature and love of magic. You treat me as if I stand as tall as any of you, and you’ve been so kind to me. I’m sorry if I ever let you down, but know that my magic and abilities are always on your side. I’m glad to be one of the Companions of the Relics.”

  Mel was gone by the next evening, and everyone missed his endless conversations.

  Trestan and Petrow still lived their daily routines in Troutbrook. Petrow worked at several chores as he continued to see Inedra on an almost daily basis. Trestan continued his work at the forge. Other than Petrow and Trestan, there was only one Companion not from Troutbrook, who felt the yearning to travel again.

  When Cat bid farewell, Trestan took her to Abriana’s shrine in the woods. Many words passed between them, as Trestan had so much on his mind. Trestan still felt the strong need to follow the call of Abriana and honor his promise, “That seminary at Kashmer sounds like the place to go. I have so many questions and don’t know how to go about them. I still have to figure when I can leave the forge.”

  Cat replied, “Of course, you must help your father. I suggest you make the trip before the snowfall.”

  Trestan self-consciously shifted
a bit, “You won’t miss me when I go? I still need to give you something special, but it’s not ready yet. I also yearn for our times together, and hope to speak with you often.”

  The half-elf offered a coy smile. “Your affection for me is plain upon your face. I also would like to explore these feelings between us. We will have time. Follow your calling, for it led you to save my life. Your time at the seminary will pass quickly enough. I am patient.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Follow my own calling as a privateer,” Cat patted her rapier. “I’ll rid people of monsters and bandits, while Kashmer pays me for it. Such a job would also welcome the calling of Abriana’s chosen.”

  Cat rode north to Kashmer. True to her word, she came back every few days to visit. Weeks had gone by with no word from Mel or Salgor, but Cat always came back.

  The harvest season approached, and Hebden knew the time drew near for bidding farewells to his son again. The older smith observed Trestan’s growth. The young man went off to Abriana’s shrine every morning for prayers, though he always ran back to the forge on time and worked hard to help out. There was something forever changed in Trestan’s eyes, newfound wisdom from his time adventuring. Trestan often took the Sword of the Spirit to a quiet place in the woods and practiced his swordplay. The young man never asked his father’s permission, nor was there a need. Hebden had always suspected that Trestan had practiced, but now the young man openly professed his desire to learn the art of sword fighting.

  During late summer an accident happened at the forge. Mikhael was helping out at the smithy when he stumbled and caught himself on the hot coals of the forge. Fire burned his hand, and Hebden’s first reaction was to run to the temple and get a cleric. Instead, Trestan stepped forward and gripped Mikhael’s wounded arm. The chosen of Abriana prayed out loud, and the miracle came for the second time in Trestan’s life. His divine powers completely restored the hand to normal. Mikhael and Hebden stood in awe of Trestan’s gift. The young smith, after a moment of awkward silence, resumed his work and pounded away at a piece of metal as if nothing had ever happened.

  Hebden talked to Trestan over the dinner table that night. “I can’t ask you to stay and help me. You have a calling, something higher and with more purpose than working here as a smith.”

  Trestan looked into his father’s eyes and nodded his understanding. Hebden continued, “I sent an inquiry to Abriana’s seminary at Kashmer about a month ago. You have enough cash from your adventure to pay their housing fee and learn. You must follow your true path son, although I do regret seeing you leave again.”

  Trestan considered the words. His food sat unnoticed for some time. “I do feel that I have to go, but I hate to say goodbye. I hate leaving your side again.”

  Hebden smiled, “Son, I grew up just as you did. All my clothes are poor and patched. My hands will never lose their black stains. I accept my life now, but as a youth I wanted to run off for adventure and live a more exciting life. I reveled in the stories of brave men out to conquer the world, or save it from being conquered. I wanted to be the hero that fought back the villains and to help people live a better life. I wanted to give to others using my strength. You have that chance. Go see the world and what it has to offer, and come back often to visit. Know that your father is very proud of how you’ve grown.”

  Trestan and Hebden hugged, and tears flowed from the eyes of father and son. It was time for Trestan to leave as well.

  * * * * *

  The two riders halted their horses on the hill outside of the large city. Below them, Kashmer stretched almost to the limits of their vision. Tall towers and grand buildings stood out from a mass of streets going all directions. A few wide merchant streets crossed the center of the town, though courtyards, alleys, and open pavilions webbed about them. A large coliseum dominated one section, aged by centuries of use. Even outside the city perimeter, a temple or manor crowned every hill. The palette of the harvest season painted the landscape. An armada of boats sailed where the city met the sea. Their hull designs ranged between naval warships, cargo galleys, fishing ships, merchant traders, and the flagships of visiting foreign ambassadors.

  “That city is so big. I’ve never seen anything like it. It makes Barkan’s Crossing look like a village.” Trestan remarked to his traveling companion.

  Her hand came up and rubbed the back of his neck reassuringly. Cat smiled. “It is a big place, lots of happenings in the streets on a daily basis. I don’t think you will get into the city much. You will be studying hard, maybe for some time.”

  Trestan could sense a touch of sadness in Cat’s voice as she spoke. The half-elf had encouraged him to come to this place, but his studies would separate them for a time. Trestan turned his gaze away from the city, toward a large keep sharing the hill they were on. The seminary dedicated to Abriana glistened in the sun, sparkling from its décor. Marble statues guarded the parapets alongside silver and gold fixtures. He saw corrals of horses, a large cathedral from which bells could be heard, a number of buildings housing the occupants of the keep, and throngs of people going about their daily business. A variety of people studied the teachings of the goddess, from peaceful monks and cleric healers to paladins who strove to defend what they loved. All of them gave up a portion of their lives to reflect and learn Abriana’s tenets. For a moment, Trestan once again felt he risked giving up his life for this strange place. It made him nervous. He reminded himself that Abriana would not take away what he loved, and that she had given him a gift to assist in saving those that he cared about. The fear passed.

  “Cat,” Trestan looked down for a moment. His gaze returned to her eyes, though his own brown eyes revealed his heavy heart. “I will be studying inside those walls for a few years.”

  Cat patted her arm on his leg, nodding her head at his assessment. She didn’t hide the sadness she felt at this parting. Trestan put his hand over hers and held it gently.

  The young man leaned closer, “Will you be here when I am done? Promise me.”

  Her green eyes smiled back at him, and her raven hair tossed about in the breeze as she promised, “As long as it is within my means, I will be here when you are done. Focus your mind on your studies, and learn well the lessons.”

  Trestan smiled and looked back to the keep. Cat waited silently for him to say something more, but he didn’t. Finally the adventuress could contain her curiosity no longer.

  She took on a demanding and yet playful tone. “Trestan Karok, how much longer do I have to wait?”

  “Oh?” Trestan assumed an innocent look on his face, but a hint of a smile revealed his bluff. “Wait for what?”

  Cat gave him a playful slap. “For months now you hinted and promised a gift, and I avoided peeking in on the smithy when I knew you were working on something secret. Now where is my present? Don’t keep me in suspense anymore.”

  Trestan smiled, albeit nervously. He had indeed hoped for the right time, and now the moment was at hand. The chosen of Abriana reached into a large bag at his side and brought forth a golden treasure. Cat lost her breath for a moment, when she saw what it was he had created with his own hands. Trestan offered it to her gently.

  Humble as he was, his tone of voice seemed to apologize that it wasn’t a better present than what he would have liked to have given her. “I remember when we were shopping in Barkan’s Crossing, you said it was too much time and effort to mess with your hairstyle since it is often in a helmet, and that hair clasps and jewelry were easy options. So I made this for you to wear.”

  Cat took the object from his hands with her tender touch, and brought it up to marvel before her eyes. Trestan continued, with a reddened face, “I figured it would make a wonderful hair piece on you.”

  “Hair piece?” Cat was in disbelief, “That doesn’t do this justice! Gods, Trestan, do you know what this is? This is a Taef’ Adorina; it’s an elvish tiara.”

  The half-elf ran her fingers over the item in her hands. It was a tiara shape, ad
orned with thin gold wire framework stretched into elvish patterns. Charms hung from different places: symbols signifying the relationship between the giver and the receiver. A portion of the decorated tiara would hang down on the side of the face to cover the area between eyes and ears, and that too was decorated and woven into an elvish pattern.

  Cat brought her gaze back to Trestan’s red face. The shocked half-elf had joy written on her face. “This is something an elf gives to someone who owns their heart. To elves, this is very rare and special gift. Who taught you to make this?”

  Trestan smiled, “Korrelothar did. He helped me make it.”

  Cat continued to look over the Taef’ Adorina in her hands. She marveled at the knot patterns woven by the gold wires. She carefully looked over all of the charms that were set in it. “I see a unicorn horn, displayed under a rainbow.” She smiled at the memory of what that meant. “And this one is…a waterfall? But it doesn’t look like the one at Barkan’s Crossing.”

  “That is the waterfall in the wilds near Troutbrook….” Trestan paused for a moment, “Where I first wanted to kiss you.”

  Tears formed at the edges of Cat’s eyes. “I know what these are for: dwarvish axe with a mug, woodcutter’s axe, a mouth smoking a pipe, a rapier crossed over a crossbow. This one must be you, a sword and smith hammer crossed over a heart. All our companions and the special moments of the journey commemorated as charms on the framework.”

  Cat cradled the gift. “The patterns and woven knots are familiar too, but I can’t place them.”

  Trestan put a hand to his side and drew forth the Sword of the Spirit. He held the blade for Cat to see. Cat had been familiar with the elvish runes on the blade, but as she viewed it now she paid more attention to an elvish decoration weaved around the letters. There were knots and patterns at the base of the blade surrounding the runes, the same patterns which Trestan used to decorate the tiara.