He had been walking for days; he knew he shouldn?t, since he didn?t quite know where he was. No choice though, but to go on, as he had been commanded by his lord. What he was commanded to do though, still did not make any sense.
?Travel with the westward sun for thirty rotations. On the thirtieth rotation, you will be shown the next path. Once on the path never leave it, no matter what you see or hear, stay on the path. There are those that would wish you nothing but failure. You must no?..? That is when his lord died and he, the last knight of the Broken Shield, Sylus Kurgen, began his journey. Where he was now he had only a vague recollection; some where in the northern Andhuin Mountains, above Kelvar pass, he assumed, by judging the flora and the fauna.
Everyone knew it was poison that killed Lord Anglemar, but no one could figure out who did it. Many of the vassals and courtiers had their suspicions on who could have killed Anglemar. Sylus knew the truth though, only one man had intimate access to Lord Anglemar. That man was Varad Rovensheaf, Anglemars? own brother.
**********
After Anglemar Rovensheafs? death, the city of Kavar became besieged by multitudes of storms. Just as one appeared to let up another came and renewed the previous storms fury. For months upon end the storms raged with no sign of letting up. Many peasants and drunks began spreading rumors that the gods were angry with them. While others claimed the land mourned the death of Lord Anglemar, and would not relent in it?s grief till another lord was appointed. There was no hope for this, as hard as any might wish. Anglemar had left no will, no heir, and no clue as to who he wished to succeed him if some tragedy befell. So for weeks uncounted rain fell in waves all over Kavar, and the lords? death was still a mystery. Many believed they knew who had slain Anglemar, but as always still had yet to find any evidence. So the rain continued to fall.
****
The hallway to the throne room was dark as it always seemed. This was the way Varad liked it; dark and secretive. He swiftly made his way down the hall, only to find the large double doors locked. ?Figures.? he muttered to himself. ?But no matter? A trivial lock such as this was nothing to a man of his abilities. With a mere wave of his hand and a single word they were open before him. Closing the doors behind him as he entered; he strode across the throne room, confident that there that were no guards set to watch for intruders. He stopped a few feet away from the raised dais upon which the throne sat. Reaching into his cloak, he produced a small rod, no longer than a man?s hand. Raising the rod above his head he started to chant a spell that was old when the world was young.
As he continued to chant, silver runes began to appear on the rod. The more he chanted the brighter the runes became. Continuing to chant, he reached into a pouch at his belt. Inside the pouch he could feel the powder that would strengthen and seal the magic of his enchantment. Removing his hand from the pouch with a handful of the mysterious powder in tow; Varad threw the dust onto the dais.
Raising his hand to put both upon the rod, he began to chant faster making its runes flash and glow like silver fire. Faster and faster he chanted without slowing. Increasing the tempo, feeling the magic build inside him; and flow up his arms into the rod. He let the power build till it felt like he would be consumed. By now the runes glowed so bright the entire room was bathed in silver light; with the runes only getting brighter. He was beginning to sweat now, his arms and knees becoming weak with the strain his concentration was exacting. Still the power built, making the rod feel like it would melt in his hands. He could not stop though, still more power was needed.
By now he was down on one knee, no longer able to stand. Still the magic continued to build. The light that bathed the room was now brighter than the sun, forcing him to close his eyes. He knew the light would only get brighter. As the power built he felt himself begin to lose consciousness.
The spell must be finished quickly he knew, otherwise the magic would go awry destroying him and those in the castle. Chanting faster than he had ever done before; Varad put every last vestige of strength and power he could muster into the final line of the spell. The room was now so bright that even with his eyes closed all he could see is silver. With the final word of the incantation a beam of pure light shot forth from the end of the rod striking the dais. The runes that once shown on the rod were now all across the throne and dais; flashing in an ominous cadence.
?Finished? Varad breathed. ?There Kurgen, I?ve bought you the time you?ll need to finish your charge.? Returning to the entrance way, he locked the ancient doors.
Casting another minor spell with the strength he had left. All traces of his ever being there vanished, along with him in a haze of smoke and deepening shadows. Hoping all the while that his plan would be enough to protect the city until Sylus returned.
The wind was like a banshee, constantly wailing through the night. Trees were bent over double with the force of her coming. Great oaks ripped asunder as if they were mere saplings. Still she wailed, never knowing peace. So it seemed to Sylus, as he gazed out into the storm from his sheltering cave.
Moving closer to the dwindling fire, he went back to eating his meager supper of dried meat and week old bread. He had to ration now, his once full journey pack becoming noticeably lighter. He knew it would not be long before he was forced to forage. Looking out into the torrents of rain and listening to the rolling thunder, Sylus couldn?t help but become lost in thoughts of home.
In his mind he could picture his homeland as if he had been transported there on unseen wings. Before him were the rolling hills of the Grissen, with the dozens of sheep herds out grazing. The scent of blossoms in bloom dancing in the air about him as he looked upon the sprawling hamlet of his childhood: Wendh Ruune. To the east he could see the wide churning rapids of the Strengl River. Stretching for miles beyond sight where it connected with the Meridiohn in the south. He could see the great serpent of a rivers origin in the north where it started at the base of the Reil Mountains. He could almost smell dried beef being wafting up to him on the wind from the market in the village. He could hear his mother calling for him to go help his father in the Grissen. Sylus vividly remembered all the adventures he and his childhood friends had while searching the Reil Mountains for monsters and treasure.
The maelstrom raging outside made him remember the last adventure they had together, and the scars it had left in him. There had been a storm like this one, if not greater in ferocity, and with thoughts of home rolling through his mind he let sleep claim him.
**********
Upon waking, the morning fog revealed a foreign landscape to Sy. Hoisting his pack higher on his shoulder, he couldn?t help but be in awe of natures? furry. How easily the wind had ripped fifty year old trees out of the ground as if they were pebbles. Moving cautiously now across the ruined hillside. He made his way around some trees that had been felled the previous night, all the while keeping the sun at his back. Stepping over one of the branches, he instantly heard a rattling sound coming from under it. Moving purely on instinct he jumped back moving his foot to the side. In the next instant he saw the serpent strike just narrowly missing his calf. Wasting no time at all he leaped back over the log leaving the snake no time to turn and strike at him again. Placing his boot just behind its head, keeping it pinned in so it could do nothing but hiss, he pulled his dirk from its sheath whilst bending down. He ended its torment in one clean swipe.
?Travel with the westward sun for thirty rotations. On the thirtieth rotation, you will be shown the next path. Once on the path never leave it, no matter what you see or hear, stay on the path. There are those that would wish you nothing but failure. You must no?..? That is when his lord died and he, the last knight of the Broken Shield, Sylus Kurgen, began his journey. Where he was now he had only a vague recollection; some where in the northern Andhuin Mountains, above Kelvar pass, he assumed, by judging the flora and the fauna.
Everyone knew it was poison that killed Lord Anglemar, but no one could figure out who did it. Many of the vassals and courtiers had their suspicions on who could have killed Anglemar. Sylus knew the truth though, only one man had intimate access to Lord Anglemar. That man was Varad Rovensheaf, Anglemars? own brother.
**********
After Anglemar Rovensheafs? death, the city of Kavar became besieged by multitudes of storms. Just as one appeared to let up another came and renewed the previous storms fury. For months upon end the storms raged with no sign of letting up. Many peasants and drunks began spreading rumors that the gods were angry with them. While others claimed the land mourned the death of Lord Anglemar, and would not relent in it?s grief till another lord was appointed. There was no hope for this, as hard as any might wish. Anglemar had left no will, no heir, and no clue as to who he wished to succeed him if some tragedy befell. So for weeks uncounted rain fell in waves all over Kavar, and the lords? death was still a mystery. Many believed they knew who had slain Anglemar, but as always still had yet to find any evidence. So the rain continued to fall.
****
The hallway to the throne room was dark as it always seemed. This was the way Varad liked it; dark and secretive. He swiftly made his way down the hall, only to find the large double doors locked. ?Figures.? he muttered to himself. ?But no matter? A trivial lock such as this was nothing to a man of his abilities. With a mere wave of his hand and a single word they were open before him. Closing the doors behind him as he entered; he strode across the throne room, confident that there that were no guards set to watch for intruders. He stopped a few feet away from the raised dais upon which the throne sat. Reaching into his cloak, he produced a small rod, no longer than a man?s hand. Raising the rod above his head he started to chant a spell that was old when the world was young.
As he continued to chant, silver runes began to appear on the rod. The more he chanted the brighter the runes became. Continuing to chant, he reached into a pouch at his belt. Inside the pouch he could feel the powder that would strengthen and seal the magic of his enchantment. Removing his hand from the pouch with a handful of the mysterious powder in tow; Varad threw the dust onto the dais.
Raising his hand to put both upon the rod, he began to chant faster making its runes flash and glow like silver fire. Faster and faster he chanted without slowing. Increasing the tempo, feeling the magic build inside him; and flow up his arms into the rod. He let the power build till it felt like he would be consumed. By now the runes glowed so bright the entire room was bathed in silver light; with the runes only getting brighter. He was beginning to sweat now, his arms and knees becoming weak with the strain his concentration was exacting. Still the power built, making the rod feel like it would melt in his hands. He could not stop though, still more power was needed.
By now he was down on one knee, no longer able to stand. Still the magic continued to build. The light that bathed the room was now brighter than the sun, forcing him to close his eyes. He knew the light would only get brighter. As the power built he felt himself begin to lose consciousness.
The spell must be finished quickly he knew, otherwise the magic would go awry destroying him and those in the castle. Chanting faster than he had ever done before; Varad put every last vestige of strength and power he could muster into the final line of the spell. The room was now so bright that even with his eyes closed all he could see is silver. With the final word of the incantation a beam of pure light shot forth from the end of the rod striking the dais. The runes that once shown on the rod were now all across the throne and dais; flashing in an ominous cadence.
?Finished? Varad breathed. ?There Kurgen, I?ve bought you the time you?ll need to finish your charge.? Returning to the entrance way, he locked the ancient doors.
Casting another minor spell with the strength he had left. All traces of his ever being there vanished, along with him in a haze of smoke and deepening shadows. Hoping all the while that his plan would be enough to protect the city until Sylus returned.
The wind was like a banshee, constantly wailing through the night. Trees were bent over double with the force of her coming. Great oaks ripped asunder as if they were mere saplings. Still she wailed, never knowing peace. So it seemed to Sylus, as he gazed out into the storm from his sheltering cave.
Moving closer to the dwindling fire, he went back to eating his meager supper of dried meat and week old bread. He had to ration now, his once full journey pack becoming noticeably lighter. He knew it would not be long before he was forced to forage. Looking out into the torrents of rain and listening to the rolling thunder, Sylus couldn?t help but become lost in thoughts of home.
In his mind he could picture his homeland as if he had been transported there on unseen wings. Before him were the rolling hills of the Grissen, with the dozens of sheep herds out grazing. The scent of blossoms in bloom dancing in the air about him as he looked upon the sprawling hamlet of his childhood: Wendh Ruune. To the east he could see the wide churning rapids of the Strengl River. Stretching for miles beyond sight where it connected with the Meridiohn in the south. He could see the great serpent of a rivers origin in the north where it started at the base of the Reil Mountains. He could almost smell dried beef being wafting up to him on the wind from the market in the village. He could hear his mother calling for him to go help his father in the Grissen. Sylus vividly remembered all the adventures he and his childhood friends had while searching the Reil Mountains for monsters and treasure.
The maelstrom raging outside made him remember the last adventure they had together, and the scars it had left in him. There had been a storm like this one, if not greater in ferocity, and with thoughts of home rolling through his mind he let sleep claim him.
**********
Upon waking, the morning fog revealed a foreign landscape to Sy. Hoisting his pack higher on his shoulder, he couldn?t help but be in awe of natures? furry. How easily the wind had ripped fifty year old trees out of the ground as if they were pebbles. Moving cautiously now across the ruined hillside. He made his way around some trees that had been felled the previous night, all the while keeping the sun at his back. Stepping over one of the branches, he instantly heard a rattling sound coming from under it. Moving purely on instinct he jumped back moving his foot to the side. In the next instant he saw the serpent strike just narrowly missing his calf. Wasting no time at all he leaped back over the log leaving the snake no time to turn and strike at him again. Placing his boot just behind its head, keeping it pinned in so it could do nothing but hiss, he pulled his dirk from its sheath whilst bending down. He ended its torment in one clean swipe.