The Sword and the Shadows: The First Chronicle (The Scrolls of Alundiel Book 1)

by Patrick Kriener

  “Yuri... wake up, boy! The order has come to save us!” He shook Yuri, but there was no response.

  Dalkreen laid Yuri against a wall, where fire was not present. He saw the two guards coming closer. He wielded no weapon.

  Dalkreen looked to the doorway, seeing the three bodies of guards lying there, dismembered and bloody. Three hooded men ran to the two guards from behind and sliced them quick, with furnished and sleek blades.

  ”Oh, Commander Dalkreen. We lead you to a safer place.”

  ”With me, then, take the boy... he will be of use in later time.”

  Two of the men held Yuri, making sure he was leveled correctly, as he was in catatonic shock.

  “Are you sure we can trust him, Dalkreen? He might be a spy.” One of the men stood nearby and whispered to him.

  “I brought the boy into this, Menkov. I know what must be done. We can use this young one, and if anything should happen... my blood is upon the matter.”

  “May Drahk bless thou soul,” spat a pious robed man. “Dalkreen, have you gone mad, giving up your soul for the useless boy?” Dalkreen turned to the man looking him close in the eye.

  “Listen here, cur, I have the capability of turning the order around; our god could find out my internal judgment but I have the physical control of this one. My blood is on the Lord of Power’s hands. I am but a servant, and he hears my cry... so Drahk help us all, trust me!”

  The man could not move, paralyzed from the words of Dalkreen. The herd of hooded men walked down a grassy hill with Dalkreen. Looking back, Dalkreen saw the burning prison. At any time the guards of Feurindal would be alerted and search every mile of the Cronus Mountains and the Heartlands.

  “We head to Benaibel Basin. We will camp and move on from there. The boy will wake up soon, and when he does, I want him to feel at home with our... presence.”

  “Yes, Dalkreen!” said one of them. “By your will, Dalkreen!” One by one, they scouted ahead and made sure no resistance engaged them during travel.

  Menkov followed up but kept a close eye on Dalkreen. He was not to be trusted for grief filled his eyes, and anger in his outer soul.

  Hours passed quickly on. Yuri’s eyes opened slowly. He looked around seeing a camp fire. Men were walking around and praying. A statue stood behind the fire, standing thirty feet high. The statue was of a tall creature, bald and four-armed.

  “Ah, boy you are up. Come, we will fix you some food and drink.” Dalkreen pulled the boy up by the hand.

  Yuri was confused. But he did not hesitate; he stood up and walked near the fire.

  Different tongues were spoken all around, foreign and gibberish. “The statue, Sir Dalkreen. What is the purpose?”

  “Well it is more like a shrine; this gives us knowledge and peace to our order. A group bred from the Shadows. There are tales of the ancient being of our people.”

  “Like myths?” Yuri took a sip of hot water and bit on stale bread.

  “Myths based on truth. Though truth nonetheless; men think we are fake and non-existent. I would like to say we do things for the good of the cause, to serve our Lord and Sovereign. Bael Drahk is the name; a Lord of War and Power. Many names are given, but right now, we worship a shrine of Drahk. The mason who crafted this was blessed with power in battle, and we follow his ways. We serve not for religion, not also being based on belief; we have an order and a cause.”

  Yuri began to understand more. The night was dark, and the river they were near was looking pitch black.

  “Night comes quick, boy. These parched lands were once lands for us, for my people. This civilization made it a housing place for fishers and travelers. A queer thought that this could be our hiding place for us, and for all the shrines.”

  ”Where are we?”

  “Near Lake Pompad, young Yuri. The great shrine of Bael. An old one of faith and diligence.”

  ”I wonder Dalkreen, this order you speak of; what do you call it?”

  Dalkreen looked deep into the flames of the fire. “From generations in our history, young one, we call ourselves the Blood Shadows.”

  Chapter Ten: The Last of His Kin

  B erek raced down the treacherous mountain, feeling the cold wind hit him as he descended further and further down. He had to reach his parents. He was their only hope. He glanced once again toward his house, seeing the black birds tear apart the only home he had. The birds ripped off the wood and the thatched roof as they swooped in for their feast. Berek growled and ran faster. His determination gave him strength as he ran around the curves of the mountain. The path down became steeper and more twists were found. Berek then took a bad step, lost his footing, and fell to the snow. He cried as his nose hit the snowy rocks. He felt warm blood gush from his nose as he felt nothing but the sensation of pain.

  He tumbled and rolled down the snowy path, bouncing along. He hit several rocks, causing fresh bruises to appear on his arms and legs. His head hit a jagged rock, causing more blood to flow from the wounds he had sustained. When he finally stopped, he opened his eyes weakly. He could not move a muscle as he tried getting up. He looked around and saw he was at the foot of the Spine. He groaned aloud and stood up. He was bleeding everywhere it seemed. However, he knew he must press on. His house was less than a mile away. He could see the birds in the distance, trying to get in. Berek’s father, Hector, had taken his hunting spear and was jabbing at the birds. Berek heard his mother’s scream and ran with full speed to the house.

  Berek finally arrived at the house, taking out Sufferthorn, the dagger. He saw one bird snapping its beak at Hector. Berek growled and jumped on this bird. The bird cried out as Berek plunged Sufferthorn into the bird’s black feathers. Fresh blood squirted out and covered Berek’s face. Berek took the bird’s head and beat it repeatedly with his strong fists. Then he took the edges of the bird’s beak and pulled them open, so the bird’s mouth was wide open. Berek ripped off the bird’s beak and stabbed it back into its head. Hector had noticed Berek, and, while fighting another bird, shouted to him.

  ”Son, get away! This house is home to you no more!”

  ”Father!” cried Berek. “Where’s mother?”

  Hector looked at his son with moist tears in his eye. “One of these blasted things took a hold of her and carried her off into the night. She is gone.”

  Berek cried out in pain and agony. Hector pulled Berek into the broken house, while still fighting off the birds. He held Berek to his side, while Berek was crying and covering his eyes. He wanted this to stop. All of this was a nightmare, a nightmare that Berek hoped he would soon wake up from...

  * * *

  Berek opened his eyes suddenly. He fluttered them, trying to focus. Everything was blurry. He gave his eyes several minutes and they finally focused. Berek looked around. He was in his house, which had indeed been destroyed. Broken pieces of wood and hay were thrown about. Berek sat up, pulling off a broken board. He looked up and saw it was daylight, at least midday. The bird attack had been at night, several hours before. Berek had no recollection of the last few hours, but knew the birds were gone. But where was...

  “Father!” cried Berek, looking around. He stood up, but a sharp pain entered his leg. He looked down and saw a metal splinter had stabbed into his foot. Blood had stopped flowing somehow, but it was still a mess. Berek groaned as he pulled the metal splinter from his foot. He cried out as pain and intensity pulled him. After his fit, he tore off a piece of his shirt and tied it around his foot, stopping the fresh blood flow.

  Berek crawled around the house, searching for Hector. He could not see any sign of him, for the house was a wasted shell of its former self. Berek thought of giving up, but then he heard a soft whisper behind him.

  “Berek.”

  Berek turned and saw his own father, covered with broken boards. Blood had stained his beard and a long gash appeared on his forehead. Berek felt warm tears come as he crawled toward his father.

  ”Father, no,” whispered Berek.

  ”Ber
ek...I...” Hector attempted to speak.

  “Don’t speak, father, let me get these off of you.” Berek pulled each fallen board off his father and gasped when he saw him in full. Blood was everywhere. Holes covered his father’s body. He could see internal organs and bone from the inside. Berek put a hand to his mouth as he gagged. This was the work of the birds, which had eaten and pecked away at Hector.

  “Father, no,” cried Berek. He held Hector’s hand as Hector groaned.

  ”Berek...be strong...my son...”

  ”Father, don’t leave!”

  “Berek...I must...ask...something of...you...”

  ”What, father? Anything!”

  “Seek out...Dawnfrost...” And with a great sigh of life, Hector stopped breathing and died.

  Chapter Eleven: Rise of Shadows

  I t felt impossible for Yuri to stand the next morning. He was afflicted with many sores and pains in his leg.

  “Sleep well, Yuri?” The boy got up strong and looked around the camp. The fire was out and fresh smell of dew was upon the grass.

  “Yes, sir, I did. Where do we go next?” Dalkreen looked at the boy with trust.

  “Follow us and you will see.”

  From the forest, opposite of the lake, appeared many of the Blood Shadows members. They had wagons with food and supplies and many weapons hidden under the cotton blanket.

  “Word is out that the guard of Feurindal tracked our movement,” stated Dalkreen, “so we have to move quickly and find the next hideout near Belmar.” Dalkreen motioned with his hand to the men from the forest; they ran quick to him and Yuri.

  “Are you able to fight?” Dalkreen asked the men. Yuri saw Dalkreen pull out a short silver sword and stretch his arm toward him, offering the blade. He took it and raised his sword in the air. Dalkreen was pleased and went to an old chest and grabbed a book and an old dagger.

  “Come all of you, we go to Belmar!” Dalkreen shouted, and then walked up north. “We will head through the Yellow Road and then cross the bridge of the Upper Benaibel Bay.”

  ”Will we find shelter on the way?”

  “Boy, we had our rest and if we do not move now, we will all be overwhelmed by the surrounding city guard.”

  They passed through the plains and over hilltops near the Yellow Road. About fifty members traveled with them as the rest in the camp were set there to find the Shrine of Drahk.

  Yuri kept close to Dalkreen, seeing nothing ahead of the group, save for trees and rock. They passed over the Yellow Road, exiting the Benaibel Basin and entering the crossroads of the Octavium City.

  “You see there, boy, the tall towers that are connected. This is the Octavium City. It is Alundiel’s capital, home to Emperor Savenur Octavium, and also holds the main power from every other city.”

  ”Like resources and militia.” Dalkreen was pleased with the answer.

  “Yuri, when you grow to be strong, you will have a mission you will never forget.” Yuri wondered about this cryptic statement, but he had to keep pace. It was then he noticed a strange noise of metal crushing rock.

  ”Commander, the ground is tainted from behind,” said a Blood guard, “and we are being followed.” All the Blood guards stood around Dalkreen, making sure there was no one in sight.

  ”It seems like a checkpoint of guards, perhaps from Feurindal.” Dalkreen then unsheathed his blade and ordered his men follow him closer to the Upper Benaibel Bridge. “Here is where the bridge meets the ground. Come, we will cross fast and cut off connection to the bridge so the guards will not follow.”

  Yuri then ran closer to the bridge and moved close to Dalkreen.

  ”Furinak, you and your group hold the entrance of the bridge. Guard me with your life!” Dalkreen cared of no one but himself and the boy secondarily.

  The rest of the Blood Shadows, with Dalkreen, reached the bridge. Yuri was exhausted and had trouble keeping up.

  ”There, the bridge! We should cross quickly. Come boy, now!”

  The bridge appeared weak in form and the stone was as brittle as sandstone, fluttering away every time a human stepped upon it.

  ”It is too dangerous; we should go three at a time!” Yuri shouted, trying to help.

  “No, boy, we cross as fast as we can!” Yuri then clutched his fists together and unsheathed his blade. He ran to the opposite side of the bridge and jumped of the corner, sliding down a grassy hill getting wet and muddy from the dew effect.

  Dalkreen looked left and right and had no sight of the boy.

  “Where is Yuri?” He pushed through many of his bodyguards. “Look for the boy!”

  Suddenly Yuri saw some guards of Feurindal run to the bridge. Yuri turned around and ran into a breastplate of armor; it was Dalkreen. He pulled him up by the arm and dragged him near the bridge.

  “We are out of time, Yuri, now we will see your true skill in combat; fight them!” He gathered up as many Blood members as he could see, but there were many guards from Feurindal heading close near the bridge. But Yuri had an idea, as he saw many guards pass near the bridge.

  Chapter Twelve: Gateway to the Dark

  Y uri gazed towards the bridge and then made his way to a supply wagon. Dalkreen screamed, “We will blow the bloody bridge and the guards may not cross!”

  Dalkreen accepted as he fought off the first guard, stabbing him though his helmet.

  “Some explosives, maybe,” said Yuri, ignorant of Dalkreen’s speech, as he had already found the firepower. He sprinted though the battle. The entire group of the Blood fell dead quick from the overpowering guards. The main battle took place outside the entrance of the bridge. More of the Feurindal guards were trying to pass.

  “Dalkreen, I need your help to fight them off!” Dalkreen bashed another guard to the ground and quickly sliced through another.

  “Don’t worry about me, blow the bridge!”

  Yuri ducked from the strike of a guard. He looked up and saw a sword sticking through the metal armor of the guard. Dalkreen appeared behind him.

  “Do not hesitate, Yuri. My men will be in a better place after death, so blow the bridge!”

  Yuri then set up dynamite filled with a strange powder near the cornerstone hedge of a bridge. Two pillars of concrete surrounded the bottom, as he placed two sticks on each.

  Dalkreen grew tired, but continued to fight them off.

  “Here, they are set. We should move away about thirty yards from the position!” Dalkreen accepted and made the path clear for Yuri. As he unsheathed his short silver sword, he chopped at the thighs of guards he passed by. Many of them tumbled to the ground.

  “Good enough! Now take the bow and set fire to it! I will finish off those who come near.”

  Dalkreen ran off in the distance and fought more guards trying to approach the boy with the flaming arrow notched on the bow.

  “Thirty yards...” Yuri breathed hard, in and out, as he knew he would not make it. It was impossible to complete a shot with so much movement in his path. He suddenly closed his eyes and heard his own heartbeat; he could not hear the surrounding noises. He looked to the battleground seeing Dalkreen overwhelmed, as he then turned behind and saw nothing in sight. His shirt became drenched in sweat and his scruffy hair turned moist and oily.

  “Now!” Dalkreen knew the boy was hesitating, and also saw that his men were falling near the entrance of the bridge.

  Yuri released the arrow as he was in his realm of concentration. It flew by many guards and Shadows soldiers. It headed right to a charge, and the arrow struck only a few inches away from it.

  Dalkreen ran up to the hill Yuri was on, for no more guards were following him.

  ”Menkov! The fire arrow!”

  Menkov was in the sea of battle, as he was pushed down every three seconds. He got up and struggled to the fire arrow, which the flame was now weak and about to dissipate into the air.

  He then stabbed a guard in his path and was chopped near his chest; he bled and fell. He grabbed the arrow near him, seeing the cha
rge. Fire caught onto the charge, and knew his death was only a second away. Menkov muttered gibberish and the charges exploded in a chain reaction.

  Finally the bridge exploded from the entrance and the rocks and metal nails that held it dispersed far in the sky. Fire overwhelmed those below, and many flew from the impact.

  Yuri covered his eyes and Dalkreen felt relief. The explosion was bright and Yuri was pushed back from the strong wind.

  The smell of burnt flesh and dismembered body parts filled the area. Yuri knelt down and he puked across the surface. Dalkreen pulled him up and looked at him straight.

  “You did the right thing. Come, with my remaining men we will travel to Belmar on a different path.”

  Yuri got up and struggled with his breathing. Dalkreen then walked down to where all of the fallen men were. He looked, seeing multiple Blood Shadows soldiers dead, with many not able to be recognized from the explosion. Finally, Yuri looked to the bridge, seeing it cut off.

  “Where will we go now?” Yuri spoke with anger as he wiped dust and ash from his eyes.

  “We cannot pass through the Yellow Road again; hence, we go around the Octavium City. Or if you want to be quicker, head right through it.”

  ”All of your men, are they... dead?”

  “It does seem so, Yuri. We will not give up on hope, for there is much to train you on and catch up with the learning of the Blood Shadows. From there on you will become stronger, and we will conquer the land and claim it ours for our Lord Drahk.”

  ***

  TWELVE YEARS LATER…

  Yuri jumped from his bed as he woke up in strange bedroom quarters. He looked around and recognized everything. He forgot all that happened before and felt like a new person.

  “What is this?” he asked aloud.