Shadowbane: Age of Aelfborn

by Paul Francois

  “Lord Megildur, this horse is one of the finest in our stables. It would be an honor for you to ride him,” Turwaithion said while bowing at the side of the stallion.

  Megildur replied, “Thank you, Turwaithion; I am honored to accept.” He pulled himself upon the horse, which was taller and larger than any horse he had ever ridden before.

  Zeristan advised, “Good morning, Lord Megildur. You should say something to the soldiers before we depart, since after all this is your quest.” Zeristan grinned at the boy knowing he had little experience speaking in front of a large group, let alone hundreds of Warriors. He was confident that the young Aelfborn could do it anyway. Megildur rode his horse to the front and the group fell silent. He took one deep breath and decided to recall some of the stories that his father and Zeristan told him of past battles in Aerynth.

  “Today we ride out to stop a malevolent force that has terrorized our world for too long,” Megildur bellowed. Even the blacksmith’s helpers in the far reaches of the crowd could hear his words. “The Dar Khelegur’s first act of treachery was when they accepted a gift from the Gods only to turn on them by destroying the temples and worshipping false Gods. Then the wicked Sillestor committed the vilest act of betrayal by turning Shadowbane against the All-Father himself.” By this time, the Warriors were roaring with anger and hatred toward the Elves of the north. “I wear this suit of armor, which was intended for Sillestor, to show the Deathless Empire that they are not superior. We will take back what is ours, destroy what is theirs, and when I am standing in Aelarnost with the High Elf Lord on his knees before me, I shall take his head!” The Warriors screamed out with a cry for vengeance since all of them had suffered in one way or another to the Elf Lords of the north. While they were still motivated from the speech, Megildur raised his sword and shouted out, “Ride to victory!” The group started out on the long journey to Aelarnost with Megildur taking the lead. In addition, Maethorion, Turwaithion, and Atreus rode alongside him but Zeristan was nowhere in sight.

  They traveled southwest, below the bay, to avoid the cold and treacherous northern mountains. This path would be longer but easier to travel as there were no mountains south of the bay and the temperatures were much warmer than the icy capped peaks. With a large group of Warriors, blacksmiths, and servants, it would take longer than if Megildur and Zeristan traveled alone. However, this would be unwise. The Dar Khelegur had a massive and more powerful force than the two alone could handle.

  After traveling most of the day, Megildur could see the edge of the bay. Both Maethorion and Atreus agreed they should make camp here for the first night. Most of the group started to unload the tents. Maethorion and Atreus sent out Scouts, Rangers, and Huntresses to survey the land and check for any unwanted guests in the area. Megildur decided to move closer to the bay to see the water, so he rode his horse in that direction. It felt like an eternity since he went to the sea to watch his sister play. He sat on his horse staring at the bay and remembered a simpler time. Zeristan approached on his horse.

  “Greetings Megildur,” Zeristan said, stopping his horse alongside Megildur and joined him while he stared into the bay.

  Megildur huffed, “Zeristan, are you forgetting my title of Lord? I am the heir to the High Throne, am I not?”

  Zeristan countered, “Yes, you have that title because of your ancestor! However, just because the All-Father chose you, it does not prove you are worthy! I will use the title when you deserve it!” This last statement drew Megildur’s attention away from the bay. “I had the honor of counseling many kings over my lifetime. I have seen many who have risen to power and many fall from the throne.” Zeristan looked straight at Megildur with a serious yet concerned demeanor. “Your speech was bold and motivating but being a King means more than just destroying and conquering. Besides having to be bold and motivating, a King must also be compassionate and merciful or he is just a cruel dictator.”

  Megildur thundered, “Compassion and mercy are for the weak! It was those same qualities that cost Cambruin his life!” Megildur was fuming at this point that Zeristan was challenging him.

  Zeristan replied in a more stern voice than before, “Remember Megildur, I was there for the fall of the High King. Mercy did not kill him. Betrayal killed him, betrayal from one of his own with his own blade. That same type of treacherous act has befallen both cruel and compassionate kings alike.” By this point, Zeristan was also fuming but it was due to Megildur’s insolence and misunderstanding of what it means to be a good ruler. “Remember the outcome of the one whose armor you now wear. He also ruled without compassion, without mercy, and once he was without his head, his rule ended. With that in mind, I will take my leave of you now, Lord Megildur.”

  Zeristan rode back to the camp and dread now replaced Megildur’s fuming emotion, over the thought of the outcome of the late Elf King Sillestor. Even though Megildur was young and unproven, the thought of being as cruel as the late founder of the Dar Khelegur sickened him. His mother had told him stories of how the merciless acts of Sillestor broke apart the great nation of Elves and why her people, the Gwaridorn, turned to the seas to escape his tyranny. If Megildur was to reclaim Shadowbane and restore peace to the war torn world, he knew he would need to be a better ruler than Sillestor ever was.

  Megildur sat staring out to the bay for a bit longer, contemplating Zeristan’s words. He eventually turned his stallion around and went back to the camp. By that time the Scouts, Rangers, and Huntresses had returned from surveying the surrounding areas and found no threats. His tent was already standing, so he went inside to remove his armor. After removing most of the dust and dirt from a long days ride, he decided to join his companions around the bonfire. He tried to forget about duties and responsibilities for a while. Megildur found Bowen, Thaddaios, Turwaithion, and a few other men he did not recognize sitting near the fire enjoying some ale. When he approached the group, Thaddaios offered the Aelfborn Lord a mug, which he accepted while sitting down. He was not one to partake in strong drink, but he figured refusing at this time would be rude. He needed both their allegiance as well as their friendship.

  One of the men slurred, “S-sooo whhhy arrre wee attaaakin t-thee Elves tooo ta nurth nooow?”

  “They kidnapped Lord Megildur’s sister and we are using the assault to sneak in and retrieve her,” Thaddaios replied.

  The drunken Warrior blurted out, trying poorly to contain his own self-amusement. “I-iss yuuur seestuur aan attraaacteev weeench oor dooes shhe reesemmmble aan Orc?” Megildur scowled and reached for his dagger.

  Turwaithion lashed out at the drunken Warrior, “She is a youngling, and you will hold your tongue before I let Lord Megildur remove it from your insolent mouth!” He placed his hand over Megildur’s sheath preventing him from taking action.

  The drunk conceded, “Foorgiiive mee Loords, I meeaant noo o-offense by me words.”

  Megildur made sure to keep his distance from him though. He found the drunk annoying and the massive amounts of ale he consumed did not improve his arrogance. Megildur, still on his first mug of ale, lost count of how many the drunken Warrior had finished off. He looked into his empty mug and considered retiring for the evening when a familiar voice murmured.

  “Allow me to fill your mug, Sir.” It was Marie, his personal servant. Megildur was shocked to see her there.

  Megildur asked with a bit of surprise in his voice, “Marie, what are you doing here?”

  Marie teased, “Refilling your drink, Sir.” After filling Megildur’s mug, she proceeded in filling the mugs of the other Warriors around the fire.

  The drunken Warrior hollered out, grabbing Marie by the waist and pulling her onto his lap. “Weeell if yee do noot waaant thiis weench, I’ll have herrr!” She dropped the pitcher of ale. The shocked look on her face alerted Megildur that she would prefer to be anywhere but in the arms of this drunk.

  Megildur demanded, rising to his feet, “Release her at once!” The drunk released her and Marie scurried away to a
nearby cart. The drunk stumbled to rise and face Megildur. The excessive amounts of ale had clouded the Warrior’s judgment and the drunk unsheathed his sword.

  The Warrior shouted, “I grooow tirrred of yeer worrrds boy! Let meee shooow yooou thheee powerrr of a truue warrrrior!” Numerous Warriors drew their weapons and advanced toward the drunk.

  Megildur commanded, “Stay your weapons!” The Aelfborn turned to the drunk, knowing he must deal with him directly if he was to earn the respect of the others. “I will teach you to respect women, you insolent pig!” That insult aggravated the drunken Warrior further, causing him to thrust his sword at Megildur. He dodged the advance with ease allowing the drunk to fall into the fire. The Warrior scampered from the flames, but was unable to feel the full effect of the burn due to his saturation of ale. The only weapon Megildur possessed was a dagger his father had given him, but he felt it would be sufficient against this oaf. The Warrior stood, faced Megildur, and swung his sword, completely missing the Aelfborn. Fortunately the rest of the crowd had pulled back giving the two room to engage each other. By this time, Megildur had unsheathed his dagger and stood ready for the next attack. After two strikes that failed to land on Megildur, the drunken Warrior let out a death-curdling yell. He charged the Aelfborn, tackling him to the ground. The two struggled for dominance for a moment until a gasp emanated and both stopped struggling. Blood oozed from the area of the skirmish but only Megildur moved. He pushed the lifeless drunk off him and stood triumphant from the encounter. His dagger still plunged into the chest of the now dead Warrior. He pulled out his dagger and wiped it off on the Warrior’s shirt before placing it back in his sheath.

  “Behold the champion, Lord Megildur!” Thaddaios cheered, holding up Megildur’s hand after his victorious battle against the drunk. The crowd began to cheer.

  Megildur shouted, “No!” He pulled back his hand from Thaddaios. “This wasn’t a noble victory! This was a drunken fool who consumed too much ale and disrespected women.” The cheering from the crowd dissipated. “He had no respect for anyone including himself and my act of ending his life proved that fact. Just because another person’s responsibility is that of servitude does not mean they deserve any less respect.” Megildur glanced at Marie when saying this. “The All-Father created all of us equal. It is the cruelty of people like those we go to battle with now that makes slaves of us all.” Megildur panned over the crowd to see all had stopped their festivities and were hanging on every word he spoke. He turned to Marie, made a motion for her to follow and he made one last comment to Turwaithion. “I think they all have had enough for this night.”

  Megildur walked back to his tent with Marie close behind. He threw open the tent flap and stormed inside while the commotion of Turwaithion’s dismissal of all Warriors commenced. Once inside he turned to face Marie. “I apologize for his behavior…” He could not finish his sentence since Marie had wrapped her arms around him with the biggest embrace he had ever received.

  Marie exclaimed, “Thank you, Sir! I will forever appreciate the act of kindness you showed for me this night. No one has ever protected me against such maliciousness nor has anyone ever demanded such respect for a person like me.” She finally pulled back and looked him in the eye. “You are trembling, Sir. Are you alright?” Megildur withdrew to the other side of the tent. “You have never killed a man before, have you?”

  Megildur responded, “Today was the first time. I never went far away from my village before a few weeks ago.”

  “If you had not stopped him he would have violated me,” Marie countered. “Worse yet, his stupidity and arrogance would have resulted in the death of others in your group. He was a reckless drunk. I am sure after his arrival back in Greensward Parish he will still be a pig!”

  “Thank you, Marie, but I think I would like to be alone for now.”

  Marie murmured, “Yes, Sir. I will be nearby in case you need anything. Just remember I am eternally grateful for what you have done this night.” Marie walked out of the tent and Megildur changed before going to sleep. While he lay there, he knew what he did was best for the well-being of people like Marie and Zabrina. However, he did not know how the others would feel about his actions tomorrow. He confronted the drunk on his own to earn the respect of the Warriors, but that action may have the opposite effect. He would have to face that dilemma in the morning.

  CHAPTER 13: Shaded

  Megildur made his way from the tent, expecting to find many glaring at him in disgust. Instead, everyone greeted him with “Good morning, M’Lord.” This came as a shock to the young Lord. He thought killing one of his own would have created contempt for him, not exuberance.

  “Good morning, Sir,” Marie said as she approached Megildur from behind. “Here is your breakfast.” Marie had once again fetched his meal as she normally did. Now he expected exuberance from her, but he needed to inquire about everyone else.

  “Marie, why is everyone cheerful this morning? I expect them to want my head for my actions last night,” Megildur asked with a bit of confusion. “I thought after killing one of my own allies, this would have driven everyone to hate me?”

  Marie whispered, “The man you killed was cruel and malevolent to all, both kin and enemy alike. Many were glad to see his lifeless body at the fire last night.” Megildur looked shocked to hear this.

  “She is correct, Lord Megildur,” Zeristan interjected while he approached from nearby. Marie bowed to Zeristan and stepped back in respect of his arrival. “Not all deaths arrive unwelcomed, especially his. Even his own brother killed him once just to stop his excessive arrogance.” Zeristan chuckled at the thought. “Remember that the All-Father closed the gates to Heaven and Hell to all of us. His death just means he will go back to his Tree Of Life. Of course, with his insolence and lack of love from his own family they probably unbound him from their Tree Of Life and left him errant. His type will end up in Sea Dog’s Rest wallowing in the filth.” This lifted Megildur’s spirits and allowed him to hold his head high again. “Now, let’s get our horses. We have another long journey ahead of us and the sooner we start the better.” Zeristan and Megildur proceeded to the front of the group to meet with Maethorion, Turwaithion, and Atreus.

  Maethorion bellowed, “Lord Megildur, glad to see you are doing well this morning.” He put his arm around the young Lord and isolated him from the others. He muttered, “I apologize for the actions of my Warrior last night. I hear he was insolent, rude, and deserved his outcome. I promise to limit the ale for the duration of our journey, to keep the men in line.”

  Megildur replied, “Let’s just save some of the drinking for when we defeat the Dar Khelegur!” The two of them laughed while they rejoined the others with their horses. After a brief check on the troops, Maethorion signaled Megildur that all were ready. Megildur gave them the, “Let’s move out” command.

  They were going to follow along the southern shore of the bay and reach the edge of the river they must cross by nightfall. At that time, they will camp along the shores and brave the crossing of the river for next light. While they rode, Megildur still could not stop thinking of the man he killed the night before. Yes, everyone did say his death was a welcomed one, and he was sure the drunk returned somewhere in Aerynth, but it did not stop Megildur from weighing heavy upon his actions. Someday death will mean the end to existence on Aerynth and the gates to Heaven and Hell will be open for those souls, but not today. They rode for most of the morning, while Megildur stayed isolated in thought. They finally stopped around midday to water the horses and feed everyone. Megildur stayed in isolation and found a rock overlooking the bay to relax. He sat there for a short time until Marie approached with a plate of food for the young Lord.

  “Here is your food, Sir,” Marie smiled and asked, “Can I fetch anything else for you, Sir?”

  “Thank you for the food, Marie,” Megildur replied. “Please sit down and stay awhile. I do not wish to be alone anymore.” He gazed back out to the bay again, while nibbling
on the food she brought. “This spot reminds me of the place I used to bring my little sister to swim. She loves the water. I suppose she received that appreciation for the sea from our mother, she was from the Gwaridorn Elf tribes, the 'Masters of the Sea'.” Concern filled Megildur’s face when he thought of his sister.

  “You two are close?” Marie inquired.

  Megildur replied with a bit of laughter in his response, “No, we had the usual sibling rivalries.” Then the amusement vanished from his face and he replied, “But I love my sister, even with her bratty attitude. Also, I promised my father I would protect her and I will not stop until I have freed her.” He continued to gaze out onto the water for a bit and handed the plate back to Marie, having touched very little of the food on the plate. “Thank you for the food, I will be back at the campsite in just a bit.” Marie bowed her head, collected the plate, and went back to the camp. Megildur knew by this time the others were finished tending to the horses and that they must continue the journey, so he got up and proceeded back.

  “Lord Megildur,” Zeristan said. “We are ready to move on when you are. Everything alright?” Zeristan could see the young Lord lost in thought.

  Megildur retorted, “Yes, everything is fine. Let’s move out!” He wanted to avoid any conversations about his feelings. The Aelfborn knew Zeristan meant well, but he felt cowardly admitting he had remorse for killing the drunken Warrior the night before. Dismayed that life and death did not carry much weight anymore in Aerynth; Megildur rode quietly near the head of the group with Maethorion leading the way. They rode for several hours until Maethorion slowed the pace. Up ahead Megildur could see a river flowing south across their path; this would be the river they must cross.

  Maethorion bellowed, “Make camp here. Turwaithion, setup sentry points and send out the scouting parties to search the surrounding areas.” Turwaithion bowed his head and went off to perform his orders. Maethorion turned to Megildur, “Many Thieves and bandits roam along the riverbanks, so we must be alert.” Megildur agreed since they had encountered a few even on the road to the Centaur Cohort. Since the beginning of the Age of Strife, Thieves, bandits, and mercenaries have run rampant. The only law and order that existed anymore was pure survival. The High King Cambruin was the last ruler to care about the wellbeing of those living in Aerynth.