To Forge a King- the Chronicles of Ellorhim

by Thomas Adams

  “Be still child. Never give the appearance of being agitated. So, he kissed you and now things have changed and your feelings are different and perchance lead in a new direction. Another question if I may? You were flattered that he kissed you? Or, you were excited when he kissed you? Excited as in you are looking forward to him kissing you again?”

  Yfiria immediately understood the difference and wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before.

  “Excited I guess. Aye. Very excited.” she whispered in response.

  “Then I think you now realize the difference. A kiss that invokes excitement or desire or passion is much more likely to be one of love. That could be what you felt. A kiss you are flattered or happy to receive is something significantly less in my experience. Not very passionate if you know what I mean. You understand?”

  Yfiria nodded her head and blushed. Her mother’s words were doubly scandalous.

  “Daughter, do not be embarrassed or ashamed. I hope passion, with your husband, is one thing in life you will enjoy. There is so much sorrow, pain and misery that without hope, love and passion life would not be worth living. And, with the right man the experience can be earth shaking.” Now it was Helena’s turn to blush.

  “Mother!” Yfiria exclaimed.

  “Well, if you can’t talk about love and boys with your mother who can you talk about it too? Can you talk about it with the ladies of my court, the servants or the daughters of my ladies? You could but I would not recommend that and the youngest ones have no real experience. I do though and I love your father deeply and went through the same things you are going through now.”

  Yfiria knew her mother was right. This should not be a so embarrassing. Her mother loved her and would give her good advice based on her own experiences. Who would give her better advice?

  “Yfiria, I am glad you have feelings for the boy. He will be a great man someday. I imagine, from all I have heard, he will be a good man as well. The only regret I have about you falling in love with him is that his future is fraught with great danger, sacrifice and darkness.

  “But, there also lies the chance for great love, a passion and love seldom ever seen and a duty to something above self, beyond Radnja. Now, I know you know about the Prophecy of Vesfalruk. I want to tell you that I strongly believe you are the woman described in the Prophecy. No, let me finish.” She added as Yfiria tried to interrupt.

  “I have always believed this. I am not sure why but I do. It is the main reason I sent you to Aravin to foster that relationship. Something just told me it was the right thing for you to do. I also think Brandt is the Rising Sun from the Prophecy. You are the one Brandt loves. The one he forges The Vessel with. The two foretold to triumph over the Void. I think you, my smart talented beautiful daughter, will be his bride and a queen one day. That is a powerful destiny. If the two of you are able to face it together, as one couple full of love and hope, you will be much stronger.”

  Her mother’s words answered many questions about how she, the Crown Princess of Radnja, came to be closely involved with the future King of Vesfalruk. Her mother was matchmaking of course, matchmaking at an extreme level. But, her mother’s words also raised more questions as well. What lay in their future? It sounded both wonderful and grim. And, no one would be able to answer these questions.

  ***

  Gullvayg carefully chalked a large circle on the floor. Next she chalked a slightly smaller circle inside the first one. Then she drew a complex series of runes and ideograms in the border between the two circles. Next she drew two smaller circles inside the border but close to the outer edges. She added runes of protection inside the smaller circles.

  As the construct took shape Lutvar could feel the buzzing in his head begin, faint at first but as she continued it grew into a warm insistent throbbing. The chamber pulsed with inviable waves of archania. The archania she was building was powerful indeed. More powerful than he’d ever felt before.

  The center of the inner circle was still empty. She went to it last and within that circle she drew one symbol. As soon as it was completed Lutvar could feel icy cold, darkness, hopelessness and a timelessness pain emanate from it. It was ancient and dark and filled with untold horror. He instantly knew it represented the Void.

  She turned to Lutvar as she finished and said, “You must memorize this. Write it down if you must but keep it secret. My Master has given me this for you alone. This symbology will allow you to attack and attempt to create small temporary cracks in the Void. Then we can send help over to Ellorhim.”

  He was stunned. He instantly grasped the implications and other potential applications of such powerful archania. It could be used for many other purposes as well. The opportunity to become the most powerful human magi was now before him. This is what the codices Arngrim gave him alluded to. But now, the example before him clearly illustrated what the arcane manual only hinted at. Lutvar said, “Aye Gullvayg. I will record this. What is next?”

  She proceeded to explain how the attack was to be initiated and the sequence of enchantments to be used to execute it. One salient point was that the blood of a human innocent must be spilled and used to outline the symbol of the Void. This initially shocked Lutvar but he quickly got over it. Human life was cheap in the Emoire. It would not be difficult to obtain such innocents. His conscience could easily handle such murderous requirements.

  Gullvayg cautioned that it would require at least two magi to initiate the sequence and they must both be powerful and stand within the two smaller circles in the outer ring. If they failed to remain in those circles during the entire process they could be maimed, killed or sucked into the void. The flow of energy was sometimes bi-directional she cautioned.

  Additional magi could be added if needed to increase the power and effect. All that was required was the addition of additional protective circles within the larger circle. Lutvar was carefully taking down notes of everything she said and he asked questions to clarify certain points as she explained the entire process. It was imperative she noted that he followed her instructions precisely. Otherwise the construct could become unstable and the results could be very dangerous.

  She also suggested he should use some of his lesser more expendable magi the first few times until the ritual was successful. And, they should practice at a remote but secure location. Failure to correctly initiate and execute the sequence of steps could result in a very volatile disruption of archania and cause serious damage to everything surrounding the construct.

  She commanded him to begin training and testing his resources. The Master would expect results soon. The Master had several of his key servants ready to move to Ellorhim to carry out specific tasks. Failure would be swiftly and mercilessly punished she added as she faded from his chambers. Her face was emotionless and grim. He winced in memory of that discipline. He vividly remembered the type and scope of pain and torment that Arngrim had inflicted. He would comply. He had no choice.

  ***

  The Narasist had only recently arrived in the town of Tanic. He’d taken a room at the Red Harp Inn and settled in. He explored the town and got a feel for the people and businesses. He looked for opportunities to gather information and situations or people to exploit and leverage for his needs.

  He’d infiltrated Vesfalruk several moons ago by way of the seaport of JarRúnd. He was posing as a merchant seeking to purchase the best Vesfalruk weapons for use in the fighting pits in the Emoire and in the Badlands further east. He’d searched for two moons through the eastern villages and towns of Vesfalruk for word of the Boy King. But, there was not even a whisper; the trail was stone cold so far. He was totally disappointed with his progress so far. There was absolutely no mention, not even the faintest rumor, of the return of the heir to Brandt’s throne.

  He spent a lot of gold and silver looking for the requested information. He plied tens of people with coin. He thought these sources had the potential access to information about the Boy King. He spoke with traders, inn keeper
s, serving wenches, stable boys and the low level functionaries of local clan ruling councils. He even bribed a few Westland jarls. His conclusion was that any news about the Boy King was being kept under a cloak of absolute secrecy.

  The only decent information he’d come across was additional confirmation that many of the wealthier classes, nobles, merchants and freeholders, were still voicing strident opposition to the continuing Guild Tax and the need for a large standing royal military. The dissenters were also opposed to any form of continued support to the Guild and were very vocal in their opinions to have them all shut down. Many jarls were Guild trained and those that were not were frequently looked down upon by their peers but, even this stalwart group of alumni was now more open in demanding the closure of the expensive and brutal institutions. Some jarls were seeking to force the issue with the Chancellor by the introduction of a new set of laws, to that effect, in the Council of Jarls.

  He’d also received word from other Narasists working in other parts of Vesfalruk. Unfortunately, their results were the same as his. They obviously needed a different approach or better sources. It did not seem to be common knowledge that the boy of the Prophecy was in Ellorhim. Maybe, the people and jarls of Vesfalruk were totally unaware of this momentous development? He often wondered how this could be. It seemed very illogical.

  Surely such an important piece of their vaunted Prophecy would be shouted from the rooftops of every hall in the land? It was increasingly obvious to him that the information was a secret and a closely guarded one. Baffling for sure but figuring out the methods and stratagems of the Druids was something the Imperium had struggled with for thousands of years. Why would it be any different now?

  Chapter 8

  Sneaking Around

  As the early Second Great Age progressed, inter-clan warfare and feuds cause the widespread slaughter of warriors and innocents alike. Starvation and disease followed these wars and further depopulated the land. Many tribes simply ceased to exist. The ancient clan lands were easy pickings for the newly arrived Emor tribes. These Erhand, the Emor invaders, consolidated vast tracts of land in the east and south of Ellorhim. They enslaved all they defeated. In time, the vast influx of soldiers and settlers of the Emor tribes founded an empire and it became known as the Emorie of the Imperium. After hundreds of years of expansion the Erhand had pushed the remaining Einar clans back beyond the White Mountains and north into Osterider. Only the horsemen of Osterider, the hill clans of Vesfalruk and the Free States led by Radnja remained free of the Emorie.

  Grand Master Talgarth, Reave Hall

  ***

  Someone was shaking him. He was waking. He’d been dreaming again. The girl with the blue green eyes was there, sitting in the garden and reading a book. The greyish colored light of the other place did not diminish her beauty. He dreamed of her a lot. He fought against waking but it was no use. The problem was when he woke up he quickly forgot the dream and sadly, he forgot the girl as well. He had tried writing down the details of his dreams as Fridya suggested but it never quite worked out. By the time he had paper and quill in hand there was nothing in his mind to write about.

  The dream was gone. He opened his eyes but it was dark. What time was it? Someone whispered in his ear, “Shush, get up and get dressed. Meet me in the corridor.”

  It was Fridya, of course. What by Kimer’s Axe was she up too now? He scrambled out of bed, quietly dressed and slipped into the hall.

  “What is going on Fridya?” he asked rubbing his face.

  “We are going on a little excursion. Come on but be quiet.” Fridya whispered.

  “Fridya, it is the middle of the night. Can’t this wait?”

  “Are you whining Kyrr? Fun and adventure does not wait. Now come on.”

  He reluctantly followed her. They slunk through corridors and around open spaces avoiding the lighted areas and the guards and ended up in the adjutant’s courtyard by the large locked iron door. This area was off limits to students. It was the same place where they had stood and discussed the mysterious statue and its apparent likeliness to Kyrr. He never did get an answer from Ivar, Bax or Fridya about which stone image looked like him.

  “We are going to open this door and explore the tunnels under the fortress. There are barracks, store rooms and crypts down there. I have heard you can fit a whole army down there. There are tombs and all kinds of stuff under the fortress. Let’s go! It will be fun.”

  Kyrr groaned. He was already missing his warm comfortable cot. But, he knew if he didn’t go with her she would go alone and he could not allow that. Who knew what was down there.

  “I oiled the locks and hinges. It will open silently.” She pulled out a large iron key and put it in the keyhole. She gave it a turn and it quietly clicked open.

  “Where did you get the key?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Don’t worry about it. I will take care it gets back and no one is the wiser.”

  The door opened with a faint groan of protest and then she was handing him a lamp and flint and steel. They moved inside and he stuck the sparks onto the oil soaked wick. It flared to life and she lit another lamp off of his.

  They went down a wide dusty hallway. Cobwebs clung to the upper corners of the passage. There were no doors. A thick layer of dust blanketed the floor. They came to a stairway. It was pitch black down there. They would need all the light they could get. They started down. And on it went, down and down. It felt like they descended into the very heart of the mountain that the castle was built upon.

  Once they reached the bottom of the stairs they entered a large room with a table chairs, stacked beds and weapons racks. It was a guardroom of sorts. One passageway, a high wide hallway led off from the guardroom. They followed it and it continued on for another fifty feet and then passageways and doors began to open off of both sides of the hall. It was damp and chilly now. The air was musty and stagnant.

  Fridya pulled a piece of chalk from her bag and began marking ‘X’s’ at each junction.

  “This is so we know how we came.”

  “That is very clever. Good thinking. We don’t want to get lost down here. They would never find us I suspect.” Kyrr sarcastically remarked.

  They poked their heads into several halls and corridors but most were empty. They did find one large hall that was full of barrels and crates. The lids were not fastened down and when they opened one they found it was full of swords encased in grease to prevent rust.

  They checked a few other crates and found axe heads and arrow heads and other weapons. All preserved in some thick greasy substance. They also found armor stored in the same manner.

  “These look really old. The style is very different, older than our current armor. I wonder how long they have been down here.”

  Kyrr replied, “About a hundred years I think. I am sure these were put here by Brandt II or Brandt III. They were so afraid of another invasion they spent vast resources to prepare for that eventuality.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked. “You read it somewhere?”

  “No, I just know it.” he said defensively.

  “Sure, if you say so Kyrr. I will ask my father next time I see him. Let’s move on. We have to head back soon.” She replied. He made a lot of comments like the one he’d just made. Facts and historical trivia no one in their right mind should know or even care about. Fridya frequently found herself wondering how he knew such things. How did he come by his strange knowledge? He was so strange but that only stoked her curiosity.

  They went down the hall they’d been following until it came to a fork. They took the left fork and went down a few flights of twisty stairs and ended up in a crypt. But, there was no tomb or sarcophagus. Instead they were huge hammer beaten metal plaques attached to one wall.

  The plaques were discolored by age, the moisture and minerals in the rock having turned them a greenish brown in many places. They covered the entire far wall and looked to be twenty feet long and eight feet high. It was packed wit
h dense writing and carvings of strange figures.

  “What is this?” she asked nervously. “What are these pictures of?”

  He moved his lamp close and peered at the section of writing closest to his face. The letters and words were very old. He could barely understand some of the words. He studied the metal and the carvings. “This is carved in bronze and very old. The workmanship is very good. It says this is the Gallery of the Dead.”

  “The dead? But what are these strange creatures? They look like monsters. Are they the dead?” she asked. There was a hint of something in her voice. She was unsettled.

  He raised his lamp and inspected the image she’d indicated and the dense characters around it. “This one talks about the powers of something called a Haugar, a wight if you will. It is some kind of dead warrior thing that can only be slain with a special blade or with fire. It is very strong and fast. But it is a fighter really and it does not use archania.” The series of pictures in the section he looked over showed an image of what he could only assume was a large wraithlike skeleton with a huge war axe. A chill went down his spine.

  He backed up quickly and looked up and down and left to right. The entire wall was covered with such descriptions and images. It was a metal catalog of the Dokköndi. “Fridya, these are all descriptions of the undead, the damned, Dokköndi” He went back to the wall and began looking through several of the different sections.

  She’d realized that as well. She looked paler than usual. She shivered and finally said, “You can read some of this? It is all gibberish to me. Anyway, it is time to go. This place gives me a bad feeling. I want to be away from here.”

  He agreed and they went back the way they came. Twenty minutes later they were back in the courtyard and she locked the door back up. She gave him a wane smile and they walked towards their part of the High Fort. She said, “I’ve got to get this key back. We should explore down there again sometime. Maybe next time we will find something really interesting.”