Shadowbane: Age of Aelfborn

by Paul Francois

  Megildur screamed out, “Aranel!” He sat up from the ground. The thought of his sister suffering at the hands of the Elves hurt Megildur. However, the Aelfborn realized it was not the dream that hurt but the hundreds of ants crawling all over him and biting. He leapt to his feet and whisked off the ants. Dancing around like a drunken fool, the Aelfborn realized the ants were not just on the surface of his clothing. With a panicked scream, he dropped his trousers and began carefully brushing off the more delicate areas. After removing the last of the pests, Megildur inspected his clothes and put them back on.

  Night again was now upon the Aelfborn and the temperature plummeted. He knew he must continue on, and the frigid nighttime temperature was preferable to the scorching daytime swelter. He thought for a moment and then remembered the direction he was traveling under the sun. He found the path was clearly visible under the bright moonlight, but it was difficult to see far ahead. Desolation surrounded Megildur, as did isolation. His thoughts kept wandering off to the girl who freed him, Zabrina. How could she want to stay in such a dreadful place? He realized it was because of her mother and that reminded him of his family. That was why he continued, no matter how bad the conditions were. After walking for hours, the sun began to peer up over the sand dunes in front of him. Another day was upon him, and he wondered if he would find food or drink today.

  This vicious cycle of night and day continued another seven times for Megildur. He was able to find a desert plant a few days into his journey, but it only provided a minor amount of bitter liquid. Megildur’s pace was dragging and he started to see deceptive visions that he was back home. One moment he was walking through the arid course sand, and the next he was playing in the water with his sister. When he briefly phased back into reality, he discovered that it was not water but sweat pouring off his body. After his isolation in this forsaken desert for over a week now, the Aelfborn was sunburnt, weak, suffering from massive headaches, and chaffing due to the sand in his pants. The sand was in his clothes and in his teeth as well. Megildur would attempt to spit the sand out, but he was so dehydrated and thirsty he needed every bit of moisture left just to keep moving. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of rescuing his sister and of course, the sweet smell of the girl who saved him, Zabrina.

  The Aelfborn removed the leather armor covering his chest to use for shade, but it was not enough. He was about to begin looking for a safe haven from the sun, when he realized the temperature dropped. He glanced down to see shade from the sun below him, but the shape of the shadow was unusual. He turned around and discovered a desert beast had crept up behind him. The creature was three times his height with a furry mane and a stinger for a tail. Megildur recognized the creature from stories he heard in New Mellissar and screamed out, “Manticore!”

  Without thinking, Megildur used the only weapon he possessed, the leather chest piece. He smacked the creature across the face, but this just aggravated the manticore. The beast batted the armor to the ground and let loose an intimidating roar, proving his dominance over Megildur. Tired and defenseless the boy did what anyone in his predicament would; he turned and ran! He ran until the furry aggressor was no longer visible and then he dropped to his knees, exhausted.

  He observed some birds flying over him and knew they must be scavengers, just waiting to pick the flesh from his bones once he died. Megildur focused on one of the birds and surmised they were not scavengers but the same ones he used to see near his home. This type of bird lived around…water! He leaped to his feet and ran toward the birds. Crawling over the sand dune ahead of him, which felt more like a steep mountain, he gazed into a vast body of water. Stumbling down the sand dunes, he landed face first into an oasis. He had never been so happy to be so clumsy. The water felt so cool and refreshing to this weary traveler. Forgetting how fatigued he was, Megildur first started to gulp the water and then began to splash around like a small child. His stamina dwindled and he sat down on the shore wondering what to do now. Scanning the area, he noticed an island in the middle of this body of water. There was shade from trees and vegetation. He drifted out to the island and slumped before the first plant. He gorged himself on as many berries as his mouth could hold, and then he exceeded that amount. Juice from the berries ran down his drenched shirt, appearing like bloodstains on his clothing. This mattered not to the boy; he was just happy to find cover from the intense heat and food to fill the enormous void in his belly.

  Megildur got his fill of berries and planted himself under the large tree on the island to relax for a bit. Since the sun was still high in the sky, Megildur used the intense light to examine his surroundings, from a seated position of course. He noticed to the east, the direction he was originally traveling, another coastline, as well as one to the south. He gathered that this body of water must be an inlet from the main sea. The water was slightly brackish, but still potable. He was still unsure if he was traveling toward some sort of settlement or deeper into oblivion. Megildur lay against the tree for so long that the sun disappeared and night settled in. Between the night air and breeze off the water, the boy began to tremble and shake. His wet clothes aggravated the freezing situation. He found some light dried up wood to start a fire. He piled most of the wood, minus two pieces for starting the fire, away from the tree and berry plants. He did not want to destroy his only source of food or shade. He began to rub for some time until smoke appeared, followed by a spark. His father’s training was successful…he had created fire.

  Once Megildur dried his clothes from the heat of the fire, he sat back against the lone tree and contemplated his journey. So far, he died trying to save his mother, he let the Deathless Empire abduct his sister, almost beaten severely by an Irekei, and finally religious extremists captured him. In addition, they wanted to roast him alive. He narrowly escaped because of the kindness of a girl and the desert was not any better. His journey so far did not appear to be going in his favor. He grew frustrated thinking of his journey and fell into a deep slumber. That night, he did not have any visions.

  It was the belief of his people that Saedron the Fate Weaver planted the visions you see during sleep. She was a Goddess who resided in a great palace on the Silver Moon, so the legend goes. The tales also revealed that Saedron first taught Sorcery and Wizardry to the Elves back in the Age of Twilight. However, her sanity and compassion faded as of late because of the death of her twin sister, Volliandra. The Dragon, who destroyed the Golden Moon, also killed Volliandra whose palace resided there. Megildur’s mother, Vanya, used to tell these tales to him and his sister at bedtime.

  The dark skies gave way to the bright desert sun in the morning. This did not wake the boy for some time. In fact, he did not wake until the sun was at the highest point in the sky. He opened his eyes and realized he had slept through the entire morning. He stretched and reached for some berries for his midday meal. Leaning back on the tree, he decided not to leave today since it was unwise to travel under a midday sun in the desert. He spent the rest of the afternoon weighing his options and dreading the thought of returning to the blistering heat and course sand of the desert. The only time Megildur was around sand back home was when he and his sister would play down by the water. He tried to focus more on the happy times of his childhood, but his thoughts kept returning to his sister in peril. Megildur thought of his sister in danger. He enjoyed his cozy little oasis, but this thought gnawed at him. He could also not stop thinking of what the old man said to him about being the heir to the High King Cambruin.

  Since his thoughts would not allow him to sit there peacefully, Megildur decided he must continue his journey that night. He tore a small patch of cloth from his shirt and laid it on the ground. He grabbed several handfuls of berries and piled them on the cloth. He pulled up the corners and tied them to each other forming a small satchel of berries. He attached the satchel to his waist and then proceeded east to the water’s edge. Megildur knew the water would be cold. He figured it was better to begin the day wet and cold
in the desert then hot and sweaty. He swam through the water and climbed ashore. He ascended the sand dune to resume his trek. He was unsure why he journeyed east but he felt compelled, no pulled, to continue through the desert. The boy walked until the sun began to rise. He glanced ahead and observed some large creatures in his path. Since the encounter with the manticore before, he decided it would be unwise to walk through the creatures. Instead, Megildur chose a path around the camp. Several creatures wandered around some ruins in the sand. Megildur watched them closely since he did not want to interact with any of them. After he made some distance past the ruins he returned to his original course.

  He walked for a bit when he noticed some sort of haze to the sand before him. It grew in size and intensity until it was finally upon him, a sandstorm. He pulled his shirt up as far as he could and tried to walk in the same direction, but that was impossible. The wind pounded the harsh sand against the boy as if he was a stain in the desert and someone decided to rub him out. Unable to withstand the force of the winds, Megildur was catapulted head-over-heels into a sand dune. Disoriented and battered, the Aelfborn braced himself for more punishment. In the corner of his eye, Megildur thought he saw something, or someone, in the storm. He quickly raised his head but the sand enveloped his eyes. Megildur could have sworn by the All-Father that he saw a figure moving about. Megildur tried to clear the foreign matter from his eyes. When he finally did, the strange figure was now gone, vanished in the storm. Was he imagining the figure in the sand? Was this an elaborate mirage? He searched the area in front of him without success. Megildur felt a sharp pain to the back of his head forcing him to the ground. He spiraled to the hot desert surface staring up at his newfound assailant. He had on a black hood and his skin was just as dark. The boy tried to reach for a nearby rock to use as a weapon, but the injury to his head rendered him unconscious. Megildur, once again, slipped into a veil of darkness. What else could go wrong?

  CHAPTER 6: Burning Blood

  During Megildur’s time in darkness, he had no visions. He experienced a feeling of warmth, which was not hard to find in a hot desert. At least this let him know he was not dead…yet. He opened his eyes and tried to move his arms, only to discover they were bound by rope. He tried several times to break the bindings but was only able to create a commotion. This raised the attention of a guard, who peered inside the tent. The guard muttered something Megildur did not understand and closed the opening. However, he did recognize the race of his captors, Irekei. The guard had the same bright red skin the Irekei in the tavern did, when the old man first saved him. Since his first encounter with the Irekei race almost ended with a beating, the boy was not optimistic. The tent flap flew open once again and a woman stood in the opening. Her skin was black like coal and her eyes raged with fire. She grumbled some words that the boy did not understand but knew they did not convey good times were ahead for him. The woman pulled out a dagger, grabbed him by the back of his head, and pressed the sharp blade to his throat. Megildur did not close his eyes but instead spoke harshly. “Kill me if you want, but after I finish off the Elven scum who destroyed my village, I will be back for you!” With that said, he spit on the sandy floor and prepared to die once more.

  A voice bellowed from outside the tent but once again, Megildur did not understand the language. The Irekei woman glared toward the new voice and sheathed her dagger. He could tell this other person’s order did not please her. She dragged the Aelfborn outside the tent into the blazing bright sun. Megildur would have shaded his eyes from this sun, if his hands were free. His eyes eventually adjusted to the new brightness levels and he could see a large man with coal black skin, much like the woman still restraining him. He motioned to the woman and she dropped Megildur, pulled out her dagger again, and cut the bindings on his hands. She snorted at Megildur and turned away.

  The man jeered, “So boy, you want to destroy the entire Deathless Empire?” All the others around him found this question humorous and responded with laughter. This one appeared to be the leader, since everyone circled around him and laughed when he did. “One impish Aelfborn outcast against the mighty Elven armies?”

  Megildur snarled, “I would not call any army mighty when they attack at night, I call them cowards. Nor do I hold any Elf in high regard who steals little girls and slaughters women!” He knew this might get him killed, but right now rebirth anywhere would be preferable to confinement in this forsaken desert. He tired of the games others played, with him as the pawn. “So if you are going to kill me, be quick about it! You are starting to bore me!”

  The Irekei leader halted and glared into Megildur’s eyes. The boy knew he must not waver from this contestation or he would remain a prisoner indefinitely. After what felt like an eternity, the Irekei broke eye contact and chortled. Then his followers joined in the jovial response. “I like this half-breed! So tell me boy, why do you hold such hostility toward the Elven nation? Other than the already cursed blood running through your veins, why do you hate them so?”

  “The Elves from the Northlands came down and devastated my village. They also took my sister with them,” Megildur replied. “I began the journey to find her some time ago, but marauders intercepted me and dragged me to this horrid desert. I am even unsure where in Aerynth I am!” The boy threw up his arms. The long trek exhausted and disheveled Megildur. Moreover, they abducted him twice, which did not help his situation.

  The Irekei leader observed Megildur’s frustration and decided to take pity on the young Aelfborn. The Irekei thundered, “Follow me boy, I think I can give you more bearing on your journey.” He led Megildur to a large building in the middle of the camp. They proceeded up a short set of stairs and into a large chamber. At the entrance were two rather disgruntled guards who both departed from view after the Irekei leader waved his hand and spouted some order. He guided the boy to the far side of the room where, spread out across most of the wall, was an enormous map of their world, Aerynth. The maps size and detail amazed Megildur. The Irekei showed the boy where in the desert he was. He was down in the far southeast of Aerynth. “The fir'khanim that brought you down here were from the Gray Sands safehold here.” The Irekei pointed west of their current location. “They call their guild the Temple of the Cleansing Flame. You must have journeyed for over a week across this desert before we brought you to our safehold, Kaal Tharkhan.”

  “Yes, the cleansing flame part sounds familiar.” Megildur remembered the trial by fire they wanted to perform upon him. Then he looked a bit puzzled by the name of the Irekei safehold since it sounded more Elven. He was almost too afraid to ask. He knew the hatred the Irekei had toward the Elven nation, so the name baffled him. “Please do not take offense to this question; the name of this safehold almost has an Elven dialect to it. Is it named after them?”

  The Irekei leader sneered at Megildur for a brief moment and replied, “The Irekei and the Elven people share an ancient heritage.” The leader eased his hostility knowing the boy did not know any better. “During the Age of Twilight both races were one, but many felt their blood burn. Some of us had a yearning for action and conquest, not to just sit around and debate the needs of the people casually. The weak elvish nobles, who banished us stronger ones to the burning deserts, looked down upon this burning blood. They feared us because of their own ignorance and hatred for anyone different, and they consider themselves highly intellectual!” The Irekei collided with a nearby table and was having issues controlling his rage. Megildur could see his skin was steaming as he paced back and forth in the room, agitated and ranting about the Elven people.

  Megildur knew he must diffuse this tense situation somehow. He provoked, “So are you going to kill me now or just torture me? I must get on with my journey and this desert heat is rather tiresome.”

  The Irekei leader ceased his pacing and scowled at the boy. However, it did break the tension in the room. The Irekei leader broke out in laughter at Megildur’s remark. “I like you boy, you have a flare to you!” He wa
lked over to the boy and vibrantly patted him on the back. He pulled Megildur in close and began to walk with him out of the building. “I will not kill you today, but I can get you back on your journey.” This news intrigued the boy. “I will grant you temporary access to our runemaster. Now he will not be able to transport you to your safehold but he can get you to Sea Dog’s Rest. You can get passage to your safehold from the runemaster there. Sound good or do you prefer death?” The Irekei glared at the boy, looking to get a rise out him.

  Megildur countered, “Oh no, I prefer the first option.” The Irekei once again burst out a hearty laugh, guiding the boy over to their tree in the middle of the safehold. On their way to the runemaster, they walked past two Irekei Warriors wearing only trousers and engaged in battle with each other. Megildur stopped to watch in amazement. The two Warriors fought with no weapons, just fists against fists. He turned to the Irekei leader, “Why do they fight each other? Did they have some disagreement?”

  He boasted, “It is the Irekei way boy! Our blood burns for conflict, we thrive on war. They do not need a dispute with one another. The conflict is already in them.” The Irekei leader allowed Megildur to stand and watch for some time since he could tell their fighting prowess amazed the boy. One of the Warriors dealt a devastating blow to the other, knocking him to the ground. Once the one on the ground was slow in lifting himself up, the victor went to him and gave a hand, helping him to his feet. “You see Aelfborn, we are not without honor. We battle because we must. It is who we are, who we must be. Everyone has their roles in life. Ours is conquering enemies in battle.” He gave a slight sneer to Megildur and turned him back toward the tree.