First flight
Doltha and Gerioh who were on their way to the city of Varnum, northeast of the Mandrares Lands, stopped at the village of Erhun, overlooking a small river that allowed the inhabitants to rejoin the great Outer Seas. The young men needed to rest, so Doltha began to read a few sentences from Vahl-Alâna's Grand Grimoire because the Mage Tohn-Mâ allowed him to note them down in order to retain them better. It often happened that the Mage gave advice to sorcerers and paladins of the kingdom by leaving notes on any type of incantation scrolls, but generally the healing ones. As for Gerioh, he and some of the inhabitants were very happy to see him carrying the famous runic sword. The blade shone under the rays of the sun, although frail at this time of year. Despite its weight, Gerioh had no trouble winning his first fighting games. Doltha looked at him, scrolls in hand and felt a great strength in him, and then time came for the young men to leave and head to Varnum.
Another day of riding was left. They took back their belongings and jumped up the animal that was waiting for them impassively, in a small courtyard. The two friends hoped to find in these places the most powerful of the Mage, Donnhum, in order to help King Berum.
- We better find the Mage, Doltha confessed as the wind seeped through the holes of his jacket.
- We will find him, my friend, Gerioh confirmed looking out to the horizon, “only he can tell us why no one else has the power to use this weapon. This runic sword has been entrusted to me for a specific purpose”.
- You are right, said the enthusiastic young paladin, “our quest is great and important, the future of the Mandrares Lands and the five kingdoms is at stake!”
The white city
The griffin flew like a ship on tumultuous waters, Doltha was rocked around by these maneuvers and Gerioh, who hardly found sleep, found himself losing balance. In a startle, the young horseman woke his friend up, looking around and saw the lights of the city approaching under the pale lights of dawn. The two friends had finally arrived in Varnum, a town untouched by bloodthirsty Nevrigians. The birds sang, the wind rushed between the trees and the streams flowed in uninterrupted calmness; inhabitants of this North-East city awoke peacefully each day.
Huge white columns adorned the luxurious buildings of the city. Markets in the surrounding area were full of produce from all over the continent and smiling faces moved along the banks of the Alnoah River. Gerioh and Doltha flew with wonder over the shining city, their eyes contemplating every nook and cranny of alleys and homes and then finally arrived at the landing. The keeper coupled the griffin firmly - These animals could fly over long distances, and strike particularly hard at their attackers - The man led them along endless corridors through the city.
They stood in front of a large door decorated with mysterious symbols, the keeper gave a sharp blow and it opened with a strident squeak. Doltha winced and a hoarse and powerful voice was thrown at them: “Oh! Here you are, at last!” Gerioh looked at his friend peeked around, the place was immense. Huge grimoires were placed on shelves made of solid wood, scrolls intertwined both on the floor and on an imposing desk made out of an unrecognizable type of wood, and everywhere statuettes shaped into rare animals. The two young men hesitated to enter, magic surrounded the room, sparks bursts appeared briefly in places, moving onward with slow step, one of them replied:
- I am Doltha, paladin and son of King Berum, ruler of the Kingdom of Fahl. You're Donnhum, aren't you? The most powerful of the Mage?
- Yes, it is me. Nodded the man dressed in white.
The Mage Donnhum was respected in all of Hissfon, except in the gloomy citadel of Shâltara, city of the Fourth Kingdom. He possessed immense powers bestowed by the Sacred Mountain of Merhidios, such as portal teleportation, the control of fire and ice or instant paralysis. His knowledge exceeded all the other Mages’ apprehension; he mastered Vahl-Alâna's great grimoire like a juggler fooling around. His white robe was decorated with relics and symbols, they told brief stories about victories of magic against darkness; his beard was long and white, he wore it proudly.
- We come from Galnor the great city of arms to seek precious advice, added the paladin.
- And I am here to give it to you, confided the Mage, who went to sit on the chair that accompanied his imposing desk. “And who are you?” He asked, turning his gaze to the other young man.
- I am Gerioh, a horseman from the Port of Eflo, he replied, “the city has fallen under the flames of the Nevrigians.”
- The... The Nevrigians? Asked the man, twisting his beard with his fingers.
The great Mage hesitated; his eyes froze starring in emptiness. He concluded that the worst was over and that the Great War, of which the old scrolls spoke of, was about to be repeated once more. Similarly, to the time of Tanbus-Erhlenam, a dark moment caused by an apogee of the necromancer Thâar. He came to his senses and looked again at the young men:
- What I feared is finally happening, he admitted.
- What is it? Asked Gerioh spontaneously.
- The Great War! The one that will make these green lands you know into a distant memory. You will need my help more than ever, explained the old man scattering scrolls, looking for the one who could help them.
It was then that Mage Donnhum saw something that Gerioh held against him. He stood up and closed in to the young horseman. The boy stepped back, head tilted back, the old man leaned over him, inspected him and removed the runic blade:
- What are you doing? Gerioh shouted, trying to get his blade back.
- This powerful runic sword is the legendary sword of Gälnara! Why is it in your possession? It's been declared lost for cycles and cycles!
- That's why we're here, Doltha continued. “King Berum himself sent us here to find you, only you must know why Gerioh became its owner.”
Mage Donnhum returned to his seat after returning the blade to the horseman and then took several scrolls in his hand:
- I once read something related to the sword of Gälnara, this blade... is inhabited by a spirit. It is said that the soul of the Ancient Mandrares Lands, Gälno, was thrown into the sword to protect its bearer and thus grant him power. That's why it bears this name, ends the Mage.
- That’s interesting, but it still doesn't explain why Gerioh mysteriously became the new owner, Doltha added, “he has no power and descends from no line of kings or magicians...”
- Indeed, said Mage Donnhum, “nothing leads him to such a destiny, a mystery that I must shed light on with haste.”
The old man looked at the different scrolls placed throughout the room and then undertook a search in the grimoires, on the shelves. One of the guards present in front of the entrance waved at the young men and guided them out of the room and into another linked by the hall they came from originally. They felt at ease to know the Mage was franticly searching for answers.
Chapter Ten
The storm approaches
Tying on an old punctured sofa covered with a red sheet, King Berum was meditating on a strategy to overcome the Nevrigian invasion. As the sounds of chisels and hammers echoed in the immense corridors of the castle being rebuilt, someone knocked at the door. The King sat down and welcomed a guard wearing a damaged armor. The monarch felt that something important made this man nervous:
- Majesty, the Mage Tohn-Mâ insists that you come to the armory at once.
- I see, it must be important, I will join him now, replied the sovereign.
King Berum gathered some things close to him and headed where the Mage was. The magician was leaning over an immense table where scrolls were scattered along with the map of the Mandrares Lands. The Mage Tohn-Mâ looked up, his gaze spoke volumes. The King slowly approached while looking around him then stared at the magician:
- What’s the nature of your request?
- The news could be better, Majesty, the Mage replied.
- What happened? Said King Berum, joining him at the table.
- We know that the Auttum Pact is still well preserved in its
original city, but it has been reported that the Faln-Lannar Relic has been stolen in an ambush between Bäl-Geren and Ponthal.
The eyes of the sovereign widened with fright, it stiffened him. The relic stolen was sorrowful news indeed. The thought that this powerful object was under the necromancer’s control filled King Berum with rage.
- The three Warriors are on their way to retrieve it, confessed the Mage Tohn-Mâ. “We have faith in them”.
- It must be returned to us, demanded the monarch, there is a reason why the relic is no longer in Bäl-Geren, the Great Guardian must have felt that it was no longer safe with him. Do we know who was entrusted with it?
- A former paladin, insinuated the magician, “formerly in the service of your late father King Gan-Trê, he was seen in the white city of Bäl-Geren.”
- The old paladins who were in my father’s service do not go there; they think it is not worthy of Galnor, our army is much more powerful.
- For an army, admitted the Mages, “surely, but the magic that reigns in these places have always been a powerful source of inspiration for us.”
-We do not need inspiration now, it is strength and a dutiful people, this paladin may have brought us to our knees!
- Your words are a little strong, Majesty, replied the Mage Tohn-Mâ, "if the Great Guardian has entrusted him with our only hope of defeating the necromancer, it was with pure and devoted belief”.
- I will leave with your men, confided the magician after recovering his staff, “as soon as you have assembled them.”
The journey
The monarch quickly signaled a guard to return to the garrison located at the outskirts of the castle. During the waiting of new orders, it protected the neighborhoods. The guard immediately left the armory. Orders were to join the three Warriors as quickly as possible. The Mage Tohn-Mâ left with some scrolls and his precious grimoire. He joined the garrison and then rode out on horseback. Some paladins and healing priests of the Kingdom of Fahl accompanied the marching soldiers; it was essential that these healers were ready before battle because the minions of the black fortress were merciless towards their enemies.
The garrison left a cloud of dust behind, there was no time to waste before reaching the Fourth Kingdom.
The ambush
Kenthaë and his faithful friends approached the dark domain of Shâltara. The nearby foul Swamps of Zhalnor baffled them. The further they went, the darker the sky became, they were not very far away.
Artemion saw something in the distance which moved in quickly, he raised his shield and warned his companions, with no time at all to ready himself, an animal rushed them, it was stopped by Kenthaë’s blade. It was Dartohn's messenger bird, it was briefly stunned, but got up and shaked its feathers. Carhâa shouted "What have you done? You were about to kill it! "Artemion noticed that the bird had a piece of parchment attached to one of its legs. He reached out and took it:
- My friends, we have reinforcements coming soon, it's a message from King Berum!
- The spirits have heard our prayers, Carhâa confessed, we can go to the black fortress, less than half a moon separates us.
- That's good, exclaimed Kenthaë.
As soon as he had put his sword back in its sheath, a blade came to sink into the ground, close to him, followed by a thud and a deep cry. The young Warriors grouped up and looked for an assailant. A troop of Nevrigians ambushed them. Their standard dancing with the wind, draped in blood red, it had a symbol drawn on it; the mark of the necromancer. One of the sorcerers casted a fatal spell, blue whirlwinds were thrown at the three Warriors. Artemion wielded his shield to absorb most of the magic. It exploded against him into thousands of sparks. Carhâa lifted her gold bracelet before her and replied with a spell of her own. Some Nevrigian turned to ashes. A battle broke out and magical jolts were thrown here and there, jolts of light sprang from Kenthaë's sword as he fervently struck the Nevrigians. The three young adventurers chose to flee from the growing threat as even more powerful sorcerers joined in, Kenthaë knew that it would be impossible to defeat them without the help of a magician. They headed toward trees, most of them were just cooked trunks, letting out dense blackish fumes, it was then that shards of magic separated the three Warriors, Kenthaë shouted "Artemion! Don't go away!" While running to join Carhâa, a ball of magic hit Artemion who stumbled and dropped his shield. A sorcerer, who was preparing a new incantation, approached him, ready to turn him to dust. The young man, on the ground, looked into the flaming eyes of his enemy and figured he should not move. Two guards arrived and tied him up, the two-colossus stunned Artemion, to ease transportation. After a few hundred steps, Kenthaë and Carhâa stopped, no more noise pursued them, the lancer looked around him and set out in search of his companion, in vain. The fellow was no longer around. Panicked, Carhâa ran in the opposite direction, but her friend instantly prevented her:
- Calm down, my friend, exclaimed Kenthaë, “he is no longer behind us”.
- Do you think they got him? Asked the young woman, as she caught her breath.
- It's quite possible, but let's not risk exposing ourselves, it's far too dangerous. If we too are caught in the nets of the necromancer, we will have no chance of saving the Mandrares Lands and the three Mages that have disappeared.
- You're right, Carhâa replied, “let's hide somewhere safer while waiting for Galnor's help, it shouldn't be long now.”
They found shelter close by. Light rain settled in. They remained hopeful of seeing their friend alive again, but odds were against any artelian trapped in the black fortress, suffering was unavoidable.
Chapter Eleven
The troop
A cloud of dust swirled in the distance, King Berum's troop confidently advanced along the forests surrounding southwest of Lanful. The Mage Tohn-Mâ knew that he had to avoid the port city of Eflo, this small city was destroyed by the Nevrigian invasion, minions were left behind in great quantity in certain villages like this one in order to ensure control.
Sprinting at high speed, the Mage Tohn-Mâ nervously waved his relics around his fingertips. One of the paladins noticed and said:
- You seem thoughtful, Master.
- I have some concerns, my young friend, replied the magician.
- I saw you talking to one of the guards, was it related to the runic sword?
The Mage looked at him, puzzled.
- What sword? He asked.
- The one the young horseman, who went North-East, possessed.
- I don't know what you are talking about, exclaimed the old man whose eyebrows frowned quickly, "it's useless to talk about something you don't know!”
- Please excuse me Master, I didn't mean to offend you, I made a mistake.
Disillusioned, the Mage Tohn-Mâ gave his horse a great blow of heel, and made his way towards the front of the group. He was surprised that someone who had not witnessed the discovery of the sword knew so much. This thought had to be put aside quickly, they had arrived near the river of Shôl-Lana, this enormous river was challenging for whoever wished to cross it.
Many stories about this river had turned to legends. They referred legions of artelians engulfed under the deep waters. A natural barrier that had to be circumvented. Being halfway to the end of the river, the Mage alone could pass through it without any wrong doings, but surrounded by a group so large was challenging. The magician went to consult the men, they needed a solution, going downstream would be a waste of time. And so, they considered to unite their powers and to split the turbulent water to create a passage they could use. The troop stopped in front of the great mass of water. All eyes were riveted on it, enormous eddies surfaced and carried away gigantic tree trunks, a new sight for many of them.
- This river is impressive; do you really think we can get passed it? Asked one of the guards.
- I've known much worse, my dear friend, said the Mage Tohn-Mâ. “Don't underestimate my powers,” he declared as he slowly walked towards the water's edge and rolled up h
is sleeves.
While those who held powers joined him, the Mage stretched out his arms, carrying relics in each of his hands, he chanted incantations, and the others did the same. An impressive turmoil rang and great gusts of wind blew, some guards lost their balance. As lightning sprang up everywhere in the sky, the river suddenly became calm, a mass of oil settled where outburst was happening. The surroundings became calm. No more noise came to disturb the incantation. Suddenly, a small whirlpool appeared in the water, close to where the Mage was, then another, and a third one appeared, until small whirlpools covered the way from one bank to the other. The water of the river began to move, like it was being dug out, and with wave-like form, a passage was created, the leading guard cried out, “We can pass now! Let's make it quick!”.
The Mage Tohn-Mâ signaled to the paladins to reach the other side of the river without wasting time because a spell of this magnitude on such a vast river required a lot of energy. So, they did. The horses slid on the moss-covered rocks. The magician, last to reach the bank, turned around, and let the corridor collapsed on itself and giving way to its impressive eddies. The Mage Tohn-Mâ was terribly weakened by this maneuver; he nevertheless asked the men to continue on their journey towards the three Warriors. He knew how important it was to find the Faln-Lannar Relic.
Chapter Twelve
Finally!
While Doltha admired every nook and cranny of the city of Varnum, Gerioh paced impatiently next to a low wall of white stones:
- What are you thinking about, my friend? Asked the paladin. “You’re making me dizzy!”
- Will Mage Donnhum find what we are here for?
- Don't be so hasty Gerioh, enjoy the view. Doltha answered.
While waiting for their solution, the Mage went through the various scrolls placed on his desk. The ideas intertwined in his mind, when he thought he had found something, another text came to contradict it. Doubt arose, and the Mage Donnhum decided to appeal to one of the sorcerers present in the city.
The Chronicles of Hissfon Volume 1 - The five Mages Page 4
