Eligium- The Complete Series

by Jake Allen Coleman

  Sebastian nodded, gave his aunt a quick hug and followed his uncle out to the stables. “Take Braden,” said his uncle. “He’s sure-footed and will take care of you as long as you take care of him.” His uncle busied himself with preparing the tack for the horse as Sebastian looked on, a bit confused that his uncle did not just leave him to saddle his own horse. The horse was dirty gray with a deep brown head and mane. His dark gray forelegs always gave the impression he’d been standing in deep water. He was well-muscled and had an easy four-beat gait that made for smooth riding over long distances. “You deliver whatever message you have for Adelwolf and then you get clear. The sooner you’re out of this valley and away from where Gerlach Pwyll might find you, the better.”

  “Uncle Caleb, when you talk about Gerlach Pwyll. You almost sound like you know him?”

  Pulling tightly on the straps to the saddle, Uncle Caleb, did not answer for a long moment. “Never you mind what I might or might not know about Gerlach Pwyll. You just do as you’re told and all will be well. The only thing you need to know about the wizard is to stay clear of him, and I think you’re a smart enough lad to know that without being told. There now. You’re all set. Ride north and then east out past the falls. Unless I mis-think, Adelwolf is like to find you himself once you’re out that way. Keep off the roads and don’t go near town for anything.”

  Sebastian pulled himself up into the saddle, “Yes sir.” Riding out towards the north, Sebastian looked back once more at the little farm, the only home he had ever known. He had always dreamed of adventure, and here he found himself on one. So why did he feel so sad? A haze settled over the homestead and it was something other than the fog he was familiar with from the lowlands. He felt the same sense of foreboding as the night before. An icy hand gripped his heart and it was all he could do to stop himself from returning to the farm at a gallop to warn them all to flee. He shook himself, “It’s just your imagination.” Turning Braden, he urged the horse to a trot and followed the valley north.

  Late in the afternoon, Sebastian arrived at the Narag falls where the Taler dropped hundreds of feet from the mountain plateau above into the valley. He found a rocky crag overlooking the brown, turbulent water rushing down the narrow escarpment, strapped a feedbag onto Braden and began unpacking his own lunch. Looking up into the bluest of blue skies he saw a golden eagle soar overhead, her six foot wingspan catching the updraft from the falls. He took the eagle’s presence as a good omen. It was the first good omen he had seen since he had started out and it warmed his heart.

  Even though Krystelle had not appeared, he felt sure in the light of day that she had somehow escaped from Gerlach Pwyll and would be waiting with his family when he returned, enjoying a cup of warm mead with his aunt and listening to ridiculous stories of Sebastian’s youthful exploits. It was a good thought and he began weaving a story in his head of the two of them strolling through the forest, arm in arm. Their romance would kindle with only a small ember, a look and a glance, as she became enchanted by his wit and humor. They would be set upon by brigands or rogue beasts and he would bravely defend her, keeping her safe. She would fall into his arms and they would share a deep passionate kiss. As with all his daydreams, the fantasy became almost real. He could hear every sound, see every color, feel every touch.

  Far above, the eagle cried out and Bradan began to whinny, breaking him out of his daydream. Coming back to the present, he felt a wrongness around him and reached for the short sword his uncle had given him that morning, remarking that it would do better for him than the dagger he had pilfered the day before. Hairs raised on the back of his neck and his head swiveled, searching for the danger.

  Bradan reared up, screaming as a sabre-cat burst from the underbrush, lunging towards Sebastian. He automatically raised the sword and settled back into a defensive position, scuttling backwards. Not realizing how close he was to the edge of the embankment, his foot came down on one of the slick river stones. Sebastian fell backwards into the icy river water. The shock of it caused him to inhale a mouthful just before his head struck one of the stones. His last thought before blacking out was to hope that Bradan would escape.

  #

  In the dream, Sebastian ran down a long, dark corridor searching for a place to hide. A shadowy figure loomed behind him, giving chase but never quite catching him. Sebastian tried door after door to no avail. They were all locked. Ahead of him, the corridor stretched on as far as he could see, fading into the mist. He’d had this dream before and it was always the same. Somehow he knew who it was that chased him. A father he had never known haunted his sleep.

  Sounds wedged their way into Sebastian’s consciousness first, dragging him back from a dark precipice in his own mind. A fire crackling. Muffled wind whistling. He could feel the straw of the bed beneath him and a ragged blanket that barely covered his body. Then the pain came. The worst was in his head, but every muscle and bone along his whole backside felt as if he had been dragged across a bed of fallen logs.

  Opening his eyes, Sebastian groaned as he levered himself partially upright to take stock of his situation. Across the room, a cooking fire crackled in the hearth. Small and efficient, it was just deep enough to hold a kettle suspended from an iron rack. Utensils hung neatly from a set of hooks hanging from the wall above sacks of grain. In the middle of the room, a half-eaten loaf of bread sat next to a haunch of meat on the rough-hewn worktable. His saddle bags and supplies sat in a neat pile in the corner, his sword leaning against the wall. He could just see the package he was supposed to be delivering peeking out from his bags. He peered at it, not quite ready to move. The seal was still intact, or at least it appeared to be.

  “Ah, good you’re awake.” The disembodied voice seemed to come from nowhere. Suddenly afraid, Sebastian lunged towards his sword and found himself face down in the dirt. “You won’t need your weapon, I would hardly have pulled you from the river and brought you to warm in my home if I meant you harm.” Shaking his head and blinking his eyes, Sebastian peered at the owner of the voice. An old man stood beside him, appearing from the shadows. His head was shaved bald, and a long beard adorned his chin, streaked through with grays and reds. He wore woodsman’s garb of brown leather that looked well-worn with use.

  “Greybeard?” said Sebastian, not remembering that the old man might not even know the name all the lads in town used for him.

  The old man twitched a bushy eyebrow, but showed no other response to the name. “Come my friend, let’s get you back into bed and get something warm in you.” Reaching for Sebastian, the old man slipped his arm under Sebastian’s shoulder for support to help him off the ground and back to the cot. As old as he was, Sebastian could feel the strength and solidness of the man. Sitting him gently on the edge of the bed, Greybeard turned back to the hearth and served Sebastian a generous portion. Sebastian ate the flavorful stew slowly at first. It seemed that he had just begun to eat when he reached the bottom of the bowl. Using a chunk of bread he sopped up the remaining stew.

  “Good, good. There’ll be more of that in a bit once we’re sure that’s going to stay down. That was a nasty spill you took when the sabre-cat attacked.”

  “Sabre-cat?” It all came rushing back to him. The attack, falling into the river. “Bradan!”

  “Bradan, who is Bradan?”

  “My horse. Did he escape the cat?”

  “I’m sorry to say he did not. He looked a fine horse.” Sebastian’s grip tightened on the pewter spoon. Adelwolf reached over and gently took it from his hand before he could bend it beyond repair. “Now young man, what brings you out this far from the town and your uncle’s farm?”

  Sebastian breathed in heavily, “You did sir…I mean I was sent to find you. At least I did if you are who I think you are.”

  “And just who do you think I am?”

  “Quiren Adelwolf, late of Gabirel.”

  Greybeard’s eyes narrowed and he took a step back from the boy. “Just where did you hear that name?” he set
tled into a stout wooden chair to focus on Sebastian’s tale, fingers peaked together in front of his face. For the second time in as many days, Sebastian recounted the encounter by the riverside with the mysterious woman. Finally he came to the letter.

  “Do you still have what she gave you?”

  “Yes, it’s just there in my things.”

  Striding the few paces to where Sebastian’s few belongings were stacked, Adelwolf pulled the package from Sebastian’s saddlebag. His brow furrowed, causing his eyes to sink deeper into an already craggy face as he considered the letter sent by the woman in the woods. A look of consternation on his face, he pulled a dirk from a belt at his waist and slid the sharp point under the wax seal. It took but a few moments for the old warrior to read through what the woman had written. He looked up at Sebastian with a sharp eye and extended the letter toward him. “You are in this deep my boy. I think you should read this letter and decide where your path lies. I assume you know your letters?”

  “Yes…my aunt made sure of it. Are you sure I should read this? It was meant for you.” Adelwolf nodded as Sebastian reached a tremulous hand for the outstretched letter.

  Sir Quiren Adelwolf, Swordmaster General of Gabirel

  Years ago you fought alongside the King to defeat the growing darkness of the Sorcerer Sterling Lex during the Dragon Wars. I fear that the darkness you fought so hard to prevent has once again taken root. Sterling Lex has returned and he has recruited the black wizard, Gerlach Pwyll to his cause. On his master’s command, he has stolen the Eligius Siothrun from it’s proper place in the Aodhan Bret. The Stone was entrusted to Gabirel by the Wizards of Uriasz in token of their submission to the Ban. As you well know it is vital to the defense of the keep at Dazhberg. Already, the Krenon assemble their forces to bring down Gabirel and her alliance with Uriasz.

  My companions and I dare not go to the King’s Guard in Aldmoor as their Captain is in league with Pwyll. We had thought to find you and enlist your help in retrieving the stone, but if you are reading this then Gerlach Pwyll found us first. The enclosed map was drawn by a man who had been inside Pwyll’s holdfast at Cinaeth and shows a secret way through the defenses. Use it to recover the stone. I beseech you on behalf of my father and the Oaths you swore so long ago, return the Eligius Siothrun to the Gabirelian Knights in the Dazhberg before the Krenon can muster their full power.

  Krystelle Mora, Sword-Master of Gabirel

  Sebastian’s mind raced as he stared into the fire and contemplated Krystelle Mora’s letter. “The Eligius Siothrun,” said Adelwof, interrupting his thoughts. “Do you know what that is?” Sebastian shook his head in the negative. “Some call it the Sunstone, the Eligius Siothrun is one of five nexus stones that focus mystical energy. In the hands of a dark wizard such as Sterling Lex, or Gerlach Pwyll for that matter, it could mean disaster.”

  “Why was it not destroyed after the Dragon Wars?”

  “Why indeed. If the Ban is the door holding back magic from taking hold of our land once again, then the five Eligium stones are the keys. We can speak of that another time. Sebastian, this plea calls upon an oath I am honor bound to obey. I leave at first light for Aldmoor to find a way to recover the stone. Yet I am an old man and the road ahead will be hard. I dare not take the time to return to the Dazhberg to rally my brothers. I could do with a strong lad such as yourself at my side. Will you join me?”

  Remembering his encounter just the day before, Sebastian imagined the woman again in his mind, her dark locks cascading down as she made her way across the river. In his memory, she looked back longingly at him before beginning her crossing. She was a Sword-Master of Gabirel! “I don’t know. I mean, if Krystelle Mora had not happened upon me by the river, I’d never be involved in any of this. Now my uncle thinks there is some danger and wants to send me away. Truthfully, all I want is to go home.”

  “I can respect that, and you’d be a fool to think this is some fairie story. I stand with the Order of Gabirel against dark forces and there is no guarantee of victory. You are wise to think on the dangers my young friend. However, I find it curious that Krystelle would happen upon you. I do not believe in coincidence and it may be that there are forces at work here neither you nor I fully understand. You will set out with me early in the morning and we will pass close by your uncle’s farm. If you change your mind between now and then, you can say your goodbyes. Otherwise, you and I will part ways there and you can go back to your life on that farm. It is late and you’ve had a long day. Rest now. We leave at first light.”

  True to his word, Adelwolf woke Sebastian well before the dawn and the pair rode out just as the first glimmer of sunlight was beginning to show between the trees. Adelwolf sat astride a sleek, pure-white stallion while Sebastian rode a borrowed black and white pony named Tonio, his own horse having met an unfortunate end beneath the claws of the sabre-cat. Sebastian hadn’t seen the outside of Adelwolf’s small cottage the previous day and his first view of it in the dim morning light came as a surprise. From the outside the hut was rundown, its exterior completely at odds with the strict order he had experienced inside.

  It was built up above the ground four feet with stone, Sebastian supposed to provide protection for the spring floods that periodically plagued the valley. Rough-hewn timbers of all sizes formed the walls of the structure and the roof looked as if it had not been re-thatched in a decade. It reminded Sebastian of a thing his uncle had said to him once, “Don’t depend just on your eyes. Always look deeper. What you see on the outside can mask the truth that lies within.”

  Glancing sideways at Adelwolf, Sebastian wondered what other surprises the old man had in store for him. Growing up, it seemed like the old man had always been a fixture out here on the edge of the wild, living where few men ventured even to hunt. Parents used his name to scare their children into behaving. “Do right or we’ll send you out to old Greybeard, he’ll whip you into shape!” Village children in their imaginary games included Greybeard as the fool. You always wanted to be the Prince or the Villain or suchlike, but never the fool. It seemed that everything Sebastian thought he knew about the old man was turned topsy-turvy. Not only was Greybeard some sort of Knight, he was of the legendary Order of Gabirel who had fought alongside the King in the Dragon Wars! It occurred to Sebastian that the knights were rumored to ally themselves with Uriasz, even to the present day. It was true that in the wars, the wizards had fought on behalf of the king. But not all of them, hence the Ban. It made Sebastian uncomfortable to think that this old man might be mixed up with magic of some sort.

  As they made their way through the forest, Sebastian become more and more determined in his resolution not to accompany the warrior on his quest. He aways thought he had a permanent place on his uncle’s farm if he wanted it, and did not understand the sudden talk of an apprenticeship. Bernice would marry one day and the farm would pass to her husband, and there was no hope of owning the land himself. He did not begrudge his uncle nor his little niece that truth, it was the way of things. On market days, the hands generally accompanied his uncle while he stayed back to continue the daily work. He put a good face on it because he was grateful and did love his adopted family, but a yearning for more had been growing the past year. Now, out of his depth, he wanted nothing but the familiar—his family and the farm that had begun to feel so mundane.

  At mid-day Adelwolf called a halt in a small glade open to the blue sky above. They gave the horses their lead, allowing them to graze while Adelwolf drew a repast of berries, cheese and bread from his saddlebags for the two of them. Once they had broken their fast, Adelwolf asked to see the sword Sebastian carried. “This is a decent blade. Do you know how to use it?”

  “A little. My uncle was a soldier once and taught me the basics over the years.”

  “Good, why don’t you show me?” Handing the sword back hilt-first, Adelwolf drew his own weapon and assumed a sparing stance. Sebastian leaped excitedly to his feet and mirrored the warrior’s footwork. “Slowly Seba
stian, haste and impatience makes for clumsy sword work. Now, prepare to defend yourself.”

  Sebastian barely managed to get his sword up in time to deflect the blade swinging towards his head and wasn’t entirely sure if the old warrior would have pulled up or let the blow fall if he had not managed to block it. He didn’t have time to think about it though, as Adelwolf’s sword came sweeping in for another blow. For the better part of a quarter hour it was all Sebastian could do to keep the warrior’s edge from biting into his flesh, there was no time or thought for attack the blows came so fast and furious. Then it was over and Adelwolf stepped back.

  “You’ve got potential, Sebastian. Your uncle taught you well.” Flushed from the exchange and struggling to regain his breath, “If you change your mind and join my quest, we’ll find a set of practice swords. You’re just clumsy enough that one of us will get hurt if we keep using cold steel.” The warmth in Sebastian’s face turned to the red of embarrassment as he realized that the warrior wasn’t winded in the slightest. He had a lot to learn about sword-work.

  A few hours later, as they neared his uncle’s farm, Sebastian began to sense the familiar feel of home. He knew these woods well, although they were coming in on a different track from the one he had taken the day before. Adelwolf had wanted to avoid the sabre-cat and it’s territory. It was likely the beast still had Sebastian’s scent, and it clearly had a taste for horse-meat.

  Nearing the sprawling homestead, the aroma of a wood fire made its presence known. Sebastian breathed in heavily, closing his eyes as he thought about how nice it would be to be home. He’d rarely spent more than a single night away, and this one night with Adelwolf had seemed an eternity. His decision was made. This was not his fight and, with the letter delivered, he had done as Krystelle Mora had asked. This had been more than enough adventure to last him for years to come. Tonio began to frisk on the trail as Adelwolf slowed their caravan. In the distance Sebastian could see several plumes of dark smoke rising into the air. That was enough smoke for something much more than a cook-fire and it was the wrong time of year for his uncle to be firing one of the fields. A cold chill gripped his heart. “Sir Adelwolf?”