Sapling: The Broken Halls

by Dan Gillis

  For the trained hand and mind, the bands can be accessed for use. This can be done in a variety of ways, but it is generally implied that any who access or manipulate the Root are called Ashori. (See Ashori for specific detail)

  The Root also grants to anyone certain gifts of insight and inspiration as way of enhancing creative thought. Those who dwell near focal points or Rifts for prolonged periods will experience changes in physiology and intelligence. Some lower species have been changed to forms of sentience and naturally enlightened races have found superior ability and vitality.

  Serpentor: A reptilian species that can grow to great size. A variety of colour and identifying features exists within the species.

  Servant: The lowest rank in the Order of the Open Hand. There is only one Servant at a time in the Order. The Servant is chosen carefully by the Council from among their peers to fill this specific role. The choice is coupled with the matter of compatibility with the Root and of the character of the candidate. The Servant must exhibit an attitude of humility and is often assigned menial tasks as a part of everyday duties. This is to alleviate or prevent the risk of corruption in such a vital task.

  The Servant is the most disciplined and studied member of the Order. The same can be said of the Masters who govern the affairs of the Order; however, it is very rare for a Master to be chosen as Servant.

  The Servant wields the Scepter of Power which is a potent artifact to manipulate the weaves of the Root. As such, the Servant must have the knowledge and ability to manipulate various portions of the Root at once. The Servant is guardian of the seals which protect the boundaries of the Order of the Open Hand.

  Shadowveil: Any air or gaseous element that has been altered through specific conditions and contact with the Root. No one knows how many Shadowveil formations actually exist. Of all the Root altered elements, it is the least known because of the inability to perceive the element. There are rumours of locations where Shadowveil flows freely through the heavens, but most of these accounts are hearsay and folklore. (See also Lunar Calendar for seasonal reference)

  Spear: A unit of measurement. 1 Spear = 5 yards or 15 feet.

  Symian: An extinct culture once located in North Kenhar within the province of Sym. The Symian people were a highly civilized culture with architectural wonders and developments in science. They were a people with a long history spanning centuries.

  The Symian downfall occurred when they came into conflict with the Hyrlacian race. The Hyrlacians were able to break down and overwhelm the Symian defences with devastating fury. The Symian’s advanced technology and refinement of their strategies were not enough to repel the sheer numbers of the Hyrlacians.

  The Symian social hierarchical structure was based on Circles that surrounded the Royal Family - the First Circle. Each surrounding ring was a reflection of prestige and connection to the royal family. The royal line was passed down to oldest daughter in the most direct line. It was possible to have a family ring shift inward and outward based on deeds and dishonours. The family would physically change their location of residence to reflect their connection to the throne.

  When a child was born, a ritual birth into Symian society was performed. The child received a portion of Blackrill to drink at this time. The Blackrill source was guarded closely from any outside the culture. From the time of the ritual to death, each Symian was gifted with a variance of enhanced longevity, prowess, agility and other physical attributes.

  Tamers Reach: The southernmost mountain range in Kenhar. It adjoins to other branching ranges: Serpentor March to the north and into countries to the south. Tamers Reach is a natural boundary between Kenhar to the West and the Wasteland to the East.

  Largest of all formations in the range is Llian’s Spire. Starting with its broad base it shoots upward in sheer angles rising above all else in Kenhar. Due to its particular formation the peak of the Spire has never been attained by any land-bound species.

  Tamers Reach serves a source of pearly granite which the White Guard quarry regularly for the upkeep of their citadel. While other quarries exist in the range which supply a variety of stone and colour, the White Guard closely maintain the secrecy of their source.

  Tetsu: A combative pair of Ashori teamed together for the purpose of instruction, training and combat effectiveness. Mihyl is senior while Jyril is the junior member. A tetsu can consist of male or female members. There are no age limitations, as Ashori tend to come into power and knowledge in various stages of life. Typically, a junior member will be younger, but this is not always the case.

  Vyn-Shi: A country located to the far east beyond the Wastelands. Also known as Shien’s country of origin, its cultural roots and language differ significantly from Kenhar.

  White Guard: A cadre formed in Southern Mehnin by Lord Tey’ur following his departure from the Order of the Open Hand. The guard assume responsibility for the care of South Mehnin from any form of aggression. Unlike other cadres, the White Guard have never sought to fill the One Seat despite their vast resources and strength in numbers. The White Guard regularly repel incursions from Racur and from migrant and tribal creatures (such as the Dryke and Gnarel). The White Guard maintain a strict code of conduct maintained by oaths sworn in brotherhood.

  The White Guard employ elite units which perform various functions, such as recon, cavalry press, and rapid sword counter. The cadre is also known for diversionary and unorthodox tactics to gain the upper hand in combat. The Guard actively employ Ashori which are given special distinction and often serve as high ranking officers.

  The White Guard Citadel, also referred to as the White Halls, is a famous structure, crafted and constructed under Lord Tey’ur’s careful watch. Much of the architecture was inspired from Symian structures. It is beautiful, formidable and advantageously situated for defense. As such it has repelled every attack attempted upon its heights.

  Wilder: A member of a mysterious Ashori-tar order who operate outside of the known laws and capacities of the Root. It is said the Wilder’s connection to Aerluin is much more visceral, primal and deep. As such, Wilders live in close connection to the Dark Lady’s whisperings. Some serve Her directly and seek to further her cause.

  In addition, they use a variety of tools and weapons in conjunction with their affinity to the Root. Their stealth, accuracy and potency make them deadly opponents. Wilders are the most misunderstood and mistrusted of all beings who claim any connection to the Root. Due to their reclusive nature, the exact number of Wilders who exist are unknown, but it is understood to be limited.

  They have been known to accept employment when it suits them but they hold no allegiance to any and swear no oaths. As such they have been known to disappear suddenly in the thick of war, much to the consternation of their employers. This only lends credence to the feeling of mistrust swirling about this secluded group.

  Map of Kenhar

  Aeredian Calendar

  An Excerpt from the sequel to The Broken Halls

  Sapling: The Circles of Fate

  Copyright © 2017 by Ad Infinitus Creations

  The Captive and the Void

  THE RAFT EDGE dipped slightly under the cool water of Tamers Crawl with each stroke of the ferrying pole. The Darkwood wind gusted through the low river valley, creating small white flows that shifted upon the water surface. Firah sat quietly watching the water advance and retreat through the deeply etched woodgrain lines in the planks. She tightened her grip around her knees and drew them closer to her body. The wind was unforgiving as it bit harshly through her clothes. Her summer wear was no longer adequate with the chilling of the days. Trees everywhere were dropping their year’s growth with bright yellows, oranges and reds scattered everywhere. Leaves were carried down the endless river course, passing slowly by. Truthfully, it was not the wind that caused her to shiver. For many days now she could not sleep or rest soundly.

  Always in the back of her mind was the clawing hunger and need to be whole. She was disgusted with herself
and she could no longer deny what dwelt within her deepest soul. Nor could she deny what she had seen reflected in that pool upon that terrible night. It would be the same if she dared cast a gaze into the water now.

  Despite her attempts to deny what was happening, it was almost as if a piece of her was missing and calling to her ceaselessly. Zyr, her protector, had mentioned it was her connection to the dagger, the source of all her misery and hardship since she drew it forth in Khyvla to protect herself. The monk had stated clearly that the time would come when they should follow her instinct, the one that would lead them to the dagger. Truthfully, despite her longing to grasp the weapon again, she found the idea of going back to it equally repulsive. So it was that the war waged inside every day, and desperately in the night. It grew so bad then …

  The three companions had been generally silent since they departed the rift and strange wood. On their first day of travel, they had come across a tributary which was a welcome boon for a cold cleansing of body, garment and spirit. They passed over the tributary with relative ease. Dense forest had given way to rolling hills and plains as they traversed the southern districts of Mehnin. After several days of uneventful travel, they had come to an impasse: the southern Tamers Crawl.

  The shimmering river, which descended from the southern ranges, was quite formidable. It was not a swift, but considerably wide and deep. Swimming across was not possible considering the effort of carrying personal belongings, not to mention the span across being so lengthy. None of the travellers had any wish to overexert themselves, and so the construction of the raft had been a welcome compromise. The sturdy cart had been dismantled into its base materials and the animals released to the wild. All provisions and supplies were secured that could fit upon the raft along with the group. Zyr had said they were bound for a river-city called Terlan. This did little to improve her mood.

  Firah rested her chin upon her knees, her tangled black hair tussling about her face. She felt an encroaching darkness slowly twisting about her soul like a subtle shroud, choking all sense of happiness. Her mind drifted again to what she had done within the woods near the Broken Halls. That evil man, who had deliberately led her away to be assaulted by primal forces beyond her understanding, how she hated him. She felt betrayed and over time had grown suspicious of everyone. Even Zyr’s well intended offerings of help she rejected. She would not discuss her feelings with any of them.

  Shien had been little help to her. He had grown ever more introverted since that time. He was peculiar in the way he would now look at things. The fool seemed to always be casting his gaze into the wilds, as if he could perceive something beyond plain sight. At least that was how his expression appeared. Perhaps if he would show some feeling toward her she could relieve some of the anxiety in her heart, but his blind indifference was infuriating.

  Her mind darkened as an unbidden thought flashed across her mind, one of horrid intention and ghastly outcome. She shook her head desperately, rejecting the thought. She had let her guard down and allowed the remnant of the blade’s sickly malice inside her to surface. Angrily, Firah chastised herself for allowing herself to think about Shien. She stared darkly at the looming bank and the rise of the valley, and waited.

  Zyr grasped the long rowing pole with weathered and sore hands. The raft was scarcely large enough for four persons, yet the construction had required much effort. The burning sensation that pulsed beneath his palms was the result of hours of preparing the wooden beams for transport.

  The pain would have to be ignored.

  Zyr stared ahead toward the looming bank and ridge wall of the meandering river. By his memory, Terlan was situated where the river bent just behind the rise. Even farther downstream lay the border between Jandor and Mehnin. Despite its location along Tamers Crawl, which made it a hub on the major shipping routes to and from Syrion, it laid claim to a more infamous and barbarous title.

  Terlan was home to the Dorgyn Circles, a gladiatorial game that captured the interest of all the classes - peasant to lord and all in between. The locality of the river port town could not be more perfect for such events. It was hard to determine whether the town was built for the sport or whether it adopted it, a conundrum that was often debated.

  Regardless, the grisly spectacle of the Dorgyn Circles had thrilled crowds for decades, and showed no sign of slowing. The nobility from the provinces and the capital would often return to cast wagers upon the hapless contestants. The local criminal populace all stemmed from it, from the lowliest pick pocket to the deadly assassin.

  If Aeredia were to be likened to the human body, Terlan was the bloodiest and cruellest clot through the network of veins and arteries that crossed the land. Yet it was into this ravenous nest of corruption and intrigue that their course fell.

  It was Zyr’s intent to purchase passage downstream in order to make up time in relocating Tehsa and the dagger. Despite the danger, passage was still the favourable option over scraping for resources in the journey across the wilderness. He was not worried about losing direction or time. Firah would be able to find Tehsa, and in the meantime he could concern himself with securing the means to travel to Meahr, the location of the Servant’s Scepter.

  Securing the ancient artefact was crucial and time was against them. With every passing day, Ahtol’s zealots grew in power and boldness. There was much to be done, and if fate would be willing, the cards would fall in their favour.

  He mentally reviewed the map from the chamber ceiling as he did often to retain the memory of the structures of Jandor’s capital. Despite belonging to the same province, Terlan was quite unlike its larger kin to the west. For one, most of the buildings were small, all circling about the Dorgyn arena. It hardly resembled the layout that burned bright in his memory. Also, the nobility and grandeur of Meahr was lost on the trading town, which was comprised of uninspired flat-topped structures and shanties. Yet, despite its rough exterior, Terlan served a valuable link in trade and supplies along Tamers Crawl. It was a necessary evil to enter its gates, for surely their raft would not endure the distance or dangers ahead on the Crawl. Grasping the pole firmly, he continued his slow cadence toward the near bank.

  * * *

  “There is not much time to gather our resources. I want everyone to meet back here within the hour. I will be seeking information and supplies in town and I will need you two to secure us transport down the river toward Syrion. You need to mind yourselves in this place. I can’t stress that enough.” Zyr stared at her and Shien, levelling his cool gaze upon them. He related details about the town and some door-circle game. She pretended to listen but her mind was on money that she was about to gain.

  Firah grated under the fact that she had to enter the closed cramped quarters of the town. Even more she did not want to be with anyone at the moment.

  She cinched up the straps that held her sturdy bow in place upon her back. She had retrieved the item from the abandoned cart at the walled perimeter of the Broken Halls. Firah refused to speak about it when pressed by the others as to its origin. Troublesome though it was to reveal it to the others, there was little choice. Passage through the wild was near-impossible at times on foot, let alone in a drawn cart. She could not keep the weapon secret any longer.

  Taking a cue from Shien, she had fashioned a harness for the bow that fit to her small frame and latched the quarrel to her waist. It had served her well in the long trek across the southern Mehnin plains. She also wore a small shoulder bag for her garments, which included the deep green hued vest and boots she had obtained from the remains of the man she had encountered outside of Southern Mehnin forest. She slipped into a heavy wool garment to complete her preparations. The merchants on the outskirts of town had supplied them with simple but sturdy over-cloaks for the weather and deterrence of prying eyes. Their bodies were fully covered with the opening for their heads to slip through, though the bow and Shien’s weapons bulged somewhat beneath the material.

  The companions stood just outside
the main thoroughfare and readied themselves. Firah jingled her depleted purse mournfully. A hidden torment gnawed at her. In truth, she was far from poor with a secondary pouch of coins concealed. It was the money she obtained from the remains of bow’s owner. Under the cover of the cloak she touched the pouch reassuringly. Yet, in maintaining the ruse, she had to operate within the confines of the group's resources. There would be hardly enough for the trip for the three of them. It was the last of her … Zyr’s money. She had something else in mind, a remedy to her perceived poverty which she would earn on her own. The others need not know of her business or her possessions. Zyr glanced her way and cast a wary accusing look upon the girl. She shivered slightly and slipped her hand from her belt pouch. It always annoyed her that his gaze would weigh down upon her conscience.

  “Don’t worry, Zyr, we can handle it,” Firah spoke mockingly at the slightly perturbed monk. She smiled falsely, and turned from the Alacritor and set into teeming throng of people.

  “Shien …” Zyr implored quietly.

  The young man nodded slightly at the silent plea. He seemed to understand what was at stake and what could possibly befall the unwary. Yet there was more hiding behind his gaze, something new that had crept silently into their relations. Shien ducked after the speedy mouse of a girl, shaking his head sadly as her pace quickened.