Shadowbane: Age of Aelfborn

by Paul Francois

  Megildur shouted, “Mother, I am happy you are still alive!” He hugged her and then withdrew. Megildur said with sorrow in his voice, “Father has passed on.” His mother had a look of terror in her eyes; they were now alone in this fight.

  “He was courageous, defending our village. I am pleased that you are still alive. What of your sister?”

  “She is safe, waiting just outside the village,” Megildur replied. “I must get…” Warm blood spattered across Megildur. He focused on his mother and could see the tip of a bloody sword protruding from her chest. Vanya stared at her son in shock, collapsed to her knees, then toppled to the ground. Megildur looked up from his mother’s lifeless body and first saw hooves. Panning up from the hooves, he discovered a savage fur covered beast standing on two legs. From the stories his father told him growing up, his mother’s killer was a Minotaur. They were the beasts making the wild sounds that Megildur could not place.

  Enraged from his mother’s brutal slaying, Megildur drew his dagger and plunged it into an opening he found in the Minotaur’s armor. The beast let out a resounding roar and backhanded the Aelfborn with his armor-covered fist. The boy dropped to the ground. The beast knocked him senseless for a moment. Megildur gazed up at the brute standing over him. With the dagger still protruding from its armor, the Minotaur raised its hoof over the boy. Using all his might, he trampled Megildur. The pain was so intense Megildur screamed out with what breath he had left. Megildur heard the scream of a small child, the Elven invaders found Aranel. He watched, helpless as an Elf dragged his little sister, handing her off to a Minotaur thrall.

  “Put this half-breed with the other slaves,” the Elf commanded the Minotaur. “And the next time you annihilate someone who is good stock for the slave pits it will cost you your life, Thrall!” The Elf glanced over at Megildur while making his threat. The Minotaur turned and carried off Aranel. Megildur was powerless to come to her rescue. He had sworn an oath to protect his mother and sister, but failed in both instances.

  Megildur lay there, dying and wishing the pain would end, and then fate granted his wish. The pain subsided to a tingling feeling, much like when a limb falls asleep. After a few moments of this new feeling, it faded and Megildur welcomed death.

  A calming voice resounded, “Have no fear, my child.” Megildur felt a warming sensation on his shoulder. This calmed and soothed the confused boy. “You will soon return to Aerynth and start on the path to your destiny.”

  A puzzled Megildur thought to himself, “Return? Am I not dead?”

  Much to Megildur’s surprise, he was within his body again. He opened his eyes to see he was beside a giant stone obelisk. It had carvings laid into the stone but he could not distinguish its markings. He stood on his feet, which amazed him to see he still possessed and backed up to gaze upon the massive object that stood twice as tall.

  “Watch your step, you half-breed twit!” Megildur spun around to see he had just stumbled into an Elf. He reached for his waist but found he was without any weapon. The Elf just glared at him and pushed past. Megildur turned in his direction, since he did not want to show an Elf his back. Megildur noticed he was in a much larger area. He watched the rude Elf walk around a colossal broken decaying sea vessel. Megildur did not want to trust an Elf, but he needed to know where he was. Reluctantly, he decided to follow the same path the Elf did. He moved around the broken down ship to find an entire town on the other side. His first thought was…where was his family?

  In the town’s center resided an ancient tree. It had few limbs and looked near death but still stood tall. To the right stood a tall tower made of stone but looked decayed over time. Past the tree, he noticed a circular stone platform with steps leading up to the center of it. Around the platform, on three points, were more stairs leading up to a circular walkway above the lower platform. Megildur, never having seen anything such as this, stared at the strange object for quite some time. Some people would walk up to the lower platform, make a motion with their hands, chant, and an unusual symbol would glow on the surface in front of the person. They stepped on the new symbol and vanished from the platform. Megildur walked closer to the platform until someone shouting to the left of him diverted his attention. The noise was emanating from a large structure on the edge of this murky town. Megildur decided to enter the building, hoping he could find an answer to his question. Why was he in this strange place?

  “Ye call this ale, Wench?” A local patron yelled, Megildur stood in the doorway. He had to sidestep a flying mug that landed on the wall near the entrance. Megildur was unsure of what to think of the place he had just walked into. The air was thick and smoky. The stench in the room reminded him of animal stalls back in his village, just before they needed a cleaning. The center of the room accommodated some damaged tables with some small isolated rooms around the outside of the main chamber. In addition, he saw a counter with taller stools on the far end of the room with a ratty looking man behind the counter. Maybe he would find some answers there. Megildur walked around the tables and felt like he was the center of attention. This was attention he did not need right now. He was especially trying to avoid one of the creepier looking characters on the far end of the room. It was a man with a dark cloak and red bloodshot eyes. He sat in one of the isolated areas on the edge of the room but he looked like trouble. Megildur kept his distance from the cloaked figure and made his way to the counter. Now he needed the man’s attention behind the counter.

  “Excuse me Sir,” Megildur hailed and raised his hand, motioning for awareness from the man behind the counter. The man just ignored him, so Megildur continued waving his hand until frustration overwhelmed him. After getting nowhere with this tactic, he lowered his hand abruptly and into the mug of a large fellow next to him, knocking the mug to the floor. The owner of that tankard turned to face Megildur. He stood from his stool and Megildur could see he was taller and his skin was red, like blood. His skin was actually steaming, as was his temper. He grabbed Megildur by the shirt but the boy squirmed out of his grip and managed to tear off most of his shirt in doing so. With his skin now exposed, so were his mystical tattoos branded on him by his mother at birth.

  The red-skinned man bellowed, “You half-breed fir'khanim! I will gut you for your insolence!” He grabbed Megildur by the hair and revealed some type of weapon mounted on his fist. He gripped the armament and spikes protruded from the lead edge of the device, which now pointed at the Aelfborn. He pulled his arm back to build force for bludgeoning the boy. Just at that moment, Megildur witnessed a bolt of energy coming from across the room and striking the red-skinned assailant, throwing him into the adjacent wall. The boy turned his attention toward the other side of the room and spotted the source. There stood a person covered in a tattered robe. It was the mysterious man with the bloodshot eyes. His hands were sparking with some type of energy field and he was glowing. Some yellow energy, drawn from the red-skinned man, was fueling the aura of energy. Megildur began to thank his newfound defender, but the robed protector dashed to his side of the room and grabbed him.

  The man behind the counter bellowed, “Hey, you can’t just ruin my establishment and run out!” The one in the robe, who still had not revealed his identity, turned to face the man behind the counter.

  The robed fellow resounded, “Restrain your tongue Zaphire or I will silence you myself!” He turned to the entrance and hauled Megildur away. They moved through the doorway together and over near an isolated shack. “Speeak yur name booy and wheere diid yoou git thaat marrking?”

  He muttered, “My name is Megildur and my mother marked me upon birth.”

  The robed man slurred, under venomous breath tainted with ale, “Don’t beee coy wiith me chillld, only a foool doesn’t knoow that Aelfborrrn must have thee mysstical tattoooos, and I ammm no fooool!” His breath could have toppled an Orc. He thundered, pulling Megildur’s shirt back and exposing his shoulder, “I reeferrr to thees marrrk!” Megildur scrutinized his own shoulder and noticed a new m
ark branded into his skin, three interlocking circles. They emitted a shimmering light and appeared more mystical than even the tattoos his mother placed upon him at birth.

  Megildur proclaimed, “I have never seen that mark before!” The robed man sneered at the boy in disbelief.

  The drunken man uttered in suspicion, “Naive! Ye knooww nottt of thee All-Father? Weell I ammm undeeeciided if I shoould feed yee to a spaawwn of Chaaaos or hearrr morre of yurrr tale, but I gueesss I cannn usse somme enterrrtaainmennt.” The elderly sloshed fellow turned to the round platform Megildur eyed before and walked off. “Come onn boyyy, wee havve morre converrrsing to doo. Follooow meee.” He led Megildur over to the platform and stopped him on the edge. He began to chant and move his hands the same way Megildur observed others doing. After the process, a new symbol was glowing on the platform. The man looked at the boy, as if he was waiting for him to proceed, but Megildur was cautious after the events that had unfolded earlier today. Perturbed with his procrastination the old man shoved Megildur onto the radiant symbol and his reality faded into darkness.

  CHAPTER 3: The Old Man

  During Megildur’s journey, the darkness lifted and he could clearly see a circular shape with unusual markings along the outer ring. It had smaller circles on the inside that shone different colors. In the center was a handheld weapon of some sorts. It looked like a small dual sided axe to him. The symbol faded and Megildur could see he was somewhere else entirely. It appeared to be an island with water surrounding him. Moving forward he looked down and noticed he was on an identical platform to the last location. Megildur continued to survey his surroundings and the old man appeared.

  The old man grumbled, “Alll rriight boyyy. If yoou arre done restinng wee shoulld giit movinng.” He grabbed Megildur and headed out toward the Northern shore. They walked past some trees and into a clearing. In front of them was an old castle in ruins. It looked like one strong wind could knock over the entire structure. In the front of the castle, Megildur saw three dragons guarding the ruins. They paced back and forth before the disheveled castle. Each of the scaly beasts looked hungry and malicious.

  Megildur began to pullback from the old man. The elderly man muttered, “Keeep movinng. Theey will noot harrm you.” The boy did not trust the old man, but if he wanted him dead, the drunk could have accomplished this back at the last place when that red-skinned man had threatened his life. He definitely possessed the ability. They moved closer. Megildur could see the dragons ignored them, but the old man was leading them straight through one of the beasts. Megildur threw his hands up to soften the impact of running into the dragon but instead he passed right through it. The old man could see his astonishment and began to chuckle. “Theey arre juusst an illuussion I crreaated to safffeguarrd myy castllle, whillle I ammm awayy.”

  The old man took him into a larger room in the center of the castle. There he walked near a hearth on the far side of the room. The man waved his right hand and a flame kindled inside the fireplace. The fire swelled which the battered Megildur found comforting. The Aelfborn tried to warm himself by the fire until he noticed some movement to the side of him. He turned with haste to see a creature in the corner of the room. It was almost the height of a man and had red skin and horns protruding from its body.

  Megildur exclaimed, “What is that thing?”

  “Thaat is myy minnion, hee iss a wizarrd’s familliarr. Hee woon’t harrm yee, unleesss I commannd it.” The man removed his dark cloak and began to pour warm broth for both of them. “So booyy, let’s heearr yurr taalle.”

  “Well, I come from a small village named Fort Viatrus, near New Mellissar,” Megildur began to explain. The old man seemed disinterested so far. “My sister and I were returning from an afternoon along the shore. The sun had just began to fall away behind the trees, so dark was upon us. We reached the outskirts of our village, I could see burning huts, and many were screaming, including our mother. I left my little sister hidden on the outskirts, and I proceeded alone. I arrived and found my father wounded, slumped out on the ground.” Megildur swallowed and took a deep breath to contain his emotions. Then he continued with his tale. “I went to my father’s side. With his dying breath he made me swear to protect my family, which I failed to do.” By this time, Megildur could no longer hold back his feelings. After a momentary release of emotions, he continued. “A Minotaur slaughtered my mother from behind. I tried to avenge her death but my small dagger was no match for the might of the beast. He knocked me to the ground and plowed my body into the dirt with his hoof. I laid there too weak to move. I watched as an Elf carried off my sister.” This part of the story finally caught the old man’s interest. He lowered his broth and listened with more intrigue. “I faded into a hazy mist. I found myself floating in an empty space, filled with voices and chanting until I asked who was there. A voice replied…”

  The old man demanded, “Yes, yes! What did the voice say?” He was on the edge of his chair by this point, awaiting the conclusion. Also, Megildur noticed the broth seemed to improve the old drunk’s speech as well. Or perhaps that was due to the lack of ale.

  “The voice told me to have no fear and that I would return to Aerynth and start on the path to my destiny. I felt a warm sensation on my shoulder, as if someone had touched me,” Megildur continued. “The next place I awoke was at the strange place where I found you and that irate red fellow, whatever that was.”

  The old man exclaimed, “By the All-Father! Well allow me to fill in some of the gaps in your tale,” the old man stood and began to pace as he educated Megildur. “The place where you found me is Sea Dog’s Rest. Many races gather in this port. It is a haven for all, where no one will battle for land or power. However, that tavern you walked into is not a favorable place for a boy. As for that ‘irate red fellow’, as you referred to him, he is an Irekei. They are a desert dwelling race long divided from their Elven kin. Aside from their hostile nature, their other noticeable difference from the Elves is their skin tone. They vary from a crimson red to pitch black. Oh, and they detest any markings on the body, so you can see why he would despise an Aelfborn such as yourself.”

  Megildur inquired, “Well, I am accustomed to the half-breed reference, but what was that name he used for me? What is a…”

  “Fir'khanim translates to rain bleeder,” the old man interrupted. “The Irekei emanate so much heat from within they do not sweat, their skin steams instead. They refer to all others as rain bleeders. The Irekei are fierce and ruthless, they hate all non-Irekei.”

  “What was the device you used to bring me here?” Megildur asked, figuring he could gather many answers so long as the elderly man was willing.

  “That was a runegate,” the old man replied and began waving his hands in front of Megildur. He displayed one of them in a layer of mist. “Since the Turning, and Aerynth’s division, we use runegates to travel between landmasses.”

  Megildur queried, “What of the marauders that attacked my village? Who are they and why did the Minotaur kill me?” He was no longer interested in the Irekei and the runegates. His interests now were with retrieving his sister.

  “The ones who attacked must have come from Aelarnost. It’s their safehold to the north of your village, comprised of Minotaurs and the Dar Khelegur Elves,” the old man told Megildur what he wanted to know. “These Elves are the High Ice Lords who dwell in the frozen mountains of the north. They founded the Deathless Empire. They use the Minotaurs as thralls to carry out their bidding.”

  Megildur roared, “Then that is where they took Aranel and where I must go!” He stood and advanced to the door before a strange force dragged him back to a seated position. He looked down and could see some sort of energy surrounding his body. Upon following the energy beam back to its source, he could see the old man was the culprit. He gave a bewildered look toward the man. “What’s the meaning of this? Am I to be your prisoner?”

  “Relax my eager one. One young and impish Aelfborn cannot take on the entire Deathle
ss Empire alone,” the old man spouted. “Besides, you don’t have enough facts yet. You still have no clue on why you have returned, who brought you back, or what your destiny is.” Megildur, not seeing he had much choice, decided to sit back and let the old man continue. “Let me explain why that Minotaur’s hoof didn’t permanently plant you in the ground. Since the Turning, the gates to Heaven and Hell are no longer open.” The old man observed Megildur’s confusion. “Did your parents not tell you of the Turning or the Age of Kings? That is what is wrong with children in this day and age, they’re all ignorant!” Megildur looked scared at the old man’s ranting. He could see Megildur withdrew after his last statement, so he sighed and sat down to educate the boy, calmly. “At the end of the Age of Kings one of Cambruin’s own Knights betrayed the High King of Men, using his own weapon…Shadowbane. To this day, nobody knows who the vile Traitor was, but his act of treachery brought upon the Turning. It caused the world to tremble, separating into several continents, divided by vast seas. It also closed the doors to Heaven and Hell, since the All-Father turned his back on Aerynth. For better or worse, we are immortal. The Tree of Life that our parents bind us to in life is where we arrive once we experience death. Think of the experience as a type of rebirth.”

  “I do not recall my parents binding me to any Tree of Life and we have no special tree in our village,” Megildur replied. “Who’s this All-Father and what is this Shadowbane you speak of?”

  “All-Father? You ask who the All-Father is? That would be like asking about the sky and the dirt below your feet. The All-Father is in all living entities around us. He created Aerynth and all we touch and feel. He is the creator of life, in all forms. The All-Father even created the World Tree, in which He found his beloved Braialla. The Traitor pinned Cambruin to this same tree using Shadowbane. I believe the voice you heard during your rebirth was that of the All-Father. I can only assume from the marking He gave you upon your shoulder, that you are the heir to the High King Cambruin. He has sent you to me so that I may guide you to your destiny.”