The dark army
Under this new hold, the former Viceroy Thann-Hon created a new army, made up of enchanters and necromancers, in order to travel the neighboring countries in search of the Relic of Faln-Lannar.
The Black Mage, sequestered in the highest tower of the fortress of Shâltara, was pacing inexorably, waiting for a fatal fate. When suddenly, a crashing noise came to upset the calm he maintained. Under his cloak darkened by the deceitfulness of his spirit, Count Nerrum entered, leaving behind him threads of smoke dragged along like a shadow. With a hoarse and heavy dark voice, this benign being stared into the eyes of the Black Mage and croaked:
- Your army as grown, Mage.
- Yes... Master... It will soon be ready, explained the former viceroy with strain.
- Good! The great necromancer, sole utterance, must never be disappointed, exclaimed the ill-fated Count as he hurried to leave the room.
- He will not be disappointed, neither will you, Master, said the Black Mage, kneeling, he looked at his hands and then closed his eyes and understood that the task that was entrusted to him could lead him to certain death.
The Count left the door ajar, two guards then stood in front of Thann-Hon and waved at him to get out of the room without any resistance. He then joined the large balcony a few floors below, which overlooked a huge courtyard filled with the dark army he had created a few hours before.
The guard
Rejoicing at his accomplishment, the Black Mage sketched a barely visible smile under the folds of his charred flesh. He looked around him and then ordered monstrous guards, in a language that even the Ancients of Hissfon abhorred, to sound the fortress’ horn, deafening and audible miles away. The guard took in passing some sorcerers who brandished their sticks in terrible tumult, accompanied by bloodthirsty Nevrigian, and then went onward, leaving the black fortress.
Under his heavy footsteps, the guard contemplated the immense domain of Shaltara then, looked around rapidly and regained focus like animal overseeing its prey. The Black Mage told him that his target was three individuals, formidable and extremely powerful and that he had to go to the Mandrares Lands in search of a bounty: the Relic of Faln-Lannar.
Chapter Six
From power to power
After the bloody battle, at Galnor, great city of arms, Gerioh devoted all his time to mastering the sword with help from Doltha. Their friendship was growing. They would practice, learn and come up with new ways to fight. And Doltha, the young and assertive paladin, would expand his knowledge of spells and magic.
Mage Tohn-Mâ guarded the Vahl-Alâna grimoire as if it was a newborn baby. This book contained spells of tremendous magnitude. From time to time, knowing that the young paladin sought to read it, he would leave it around, unsupervised.
Doltha would then take the old grimoire and ferociously read every page with intense focus. Each inch of it contained a wealth of information, but Tohn-Mâ warned the paladin, anyone who was not trained enough to invoke any of the spells with precisions could harm themselves and others.
Under the guidance of the Mage, he would occasionally try to cast some of weaker ones with few consequences. His understanding grew a little more each day.
The grimoire
While the city's immense forges were running at full speed, producing the future weapons much needed by the paladins, and craftsmen twisting yarn into strings and shaping wood into bows, the Mage Tohn-Mâ was heading to the great common room. There he found Doltha handling his forged hammer that shared the same material as the prestigious gate protecting the city of Galnor.
He walked towards the paladin, relics in hand, stared at him and said:
- Vahl-Alâna's grimoire contains powerful spells, are you aware of that? He was twisting his white beard between his clever fingers.
- Of course, Doltha answered arrogantly.
- You are like your father when he was your age, he too thought he knew it all but he needed guidance from the Mages at many occurrences during his reign, even Mage Donnhum.
- My father knew the most powerful of the Mage?” Replied the young paladin, twirling his hammer that sparked like fire.
- Of course, he is a mentor to us all, agreed the old man. “He taught me magic in all its forms, even the darkest corners. Because we need to know magic as it exists on different continents. Thanks to the grimoire, you too will be able to wield spells of which you did not know the existence”.
-Teach me, my Master, Doltha asked, sitting beside the Mage.
Thus the mysteries of the old book were revealed to the young paladin, eager for knowledge. They spent hours handling magic, Doltha rapidly tamed this domain.
The runic sword
Gerioh had heard the two men practicing magic several times, he saw his friend becoming more and more powerful thanks to his knowledge. He wondered if he, too, would have the strength to fight the Nevrigian armies that were advancing a little further into the Mandrares Lands.
The young rider, who had learned how to wield the sword, walked alone in the courtyard where a market did its business most of the day. It sold garments, food and weaponry. Gerioh went to one of Galnor's forges, renowned for producing the very best of alloys and its indestructible weapons made the citadel famous.
He entered the shop and saw a sword in its sheath among the various weapons present, its extremity shone with spectacular intensity. He approached it and heard a voice, a man, certainly the blacksmith who had put it there:
- This blade is sharp; watch yourself, my boy!
- Yes, yes, said Gerioh, pulled toward the weapon.
The young horseman stood before the sword, mesmerized. He put one hand on the pommel and then held with the other the rocket which allowed him to take it out of its sheath. Objects flew in all directions caused by a shattering whirlwind. The blacksmith ducked down behind his workbench and the young Gerioh started levitating as if he was enchanted. He raised his eyes, they were tinted white. A powerful light sprang from it, finally, the young man returned to the ground with the sword between his hands.
The blacksmith, stood up and went to Gerioh:
- I knew this weapon was imbued with a certain magic, he said rubbing his forehead, "but no one had ever managed to free it like you just did!”
Gerioh looked at him, surprised, then put his eyes back on the blade. There was a very strong bond between them. He was now its owner.
- I cannot keep this weapon in my forge, it is too dangerous, admitted the craftsman, glancing around him. Consider it a gift, get out of here quickly, he added.
The young rider thanked him and left rapidly. At the castle, still bewildered by the event, looked for his friend, Doltha, to reveal what had happened.
Chapter Seven
The revelation
The villagers of the citadel of Galnor rushed to rebuild the city following the bloody attack that caused great damage. Here and there, healing priests formed a barrier around the previously wounded paladins, most had come back from injury to King Berum's troops ready for more.
It was rumored that an offensive was about to take place, the forges of the city were blazing. The King then sent birds from Dartohn throughout the Kingdom of Fahl to request assistance.
Reunited
Gerioh arrived at the front door of the weapons room. A huge entrance decorated with coats of arms and flags bearing the effigy of the Kingdom of Fahl stood in front of it. The young horseman stood still for a moment, admiring every detail inside the building.
Once he became aware of his lack of courage, he lifted the golden door’s knocker and with a sharp strike, strange thud was heard and a guard beckoned him in. The door had hinges entirely made of gold, the young Gerioh, feeling worried, found himself facing the Mage Tohn-Mâ who was standing near Doltha reading the powerful grimoire of Vahl-Alâna. The magician's eyes suddenly went to the rider's hand holding the sword found in one of the forges in the city of Galnor. He then put down his stick and went to join him:
- Wher
e did you find this? Asked the old man, surprised.
- In a blacksmith's shop, sir, a blacksmith gave it after... the boy went silent.
- After what? Said Doltha, you seem shy, friend!
- That’s not it. The sword came to me...
- To you? How is that so? A sword doesn’t come to anyone, unless...
The eyes of the paladin gleamed with adoration, absorbed by a thought that came to mind and then resumed:
- Unless it is runic, forged by the Ancients of Hissfon and possessing one of the spells of Integral Power!
The Mage Tohn-Mâ stepped back and rubbed his beard. The legendary sword of Gälnara was before him. This runic sword was known throughout the kingdom and its surroundings to be heavy with power, comparable to the great spells of the necromancer Thâar. The three men pondered for long hours in order to understand why this young rider, without any particular experience or talent, was chosen by the Gälnara blade.
The mission
Doltha was entrusted with the mission of consulting the great grimoire of Vahl-Alâna in search of a better understanding of the situation, the Mages and Gerioh went to the throne room where King Berum was with his sorcerers and warriors.
Following the important attack, the sovereign made plans to defend the citadel of Galnor from the imminent threat of the pestilent Nevrigians.
The Mage slowly stepped into the great room where huge coat of arms of the Kingdom of Fahl lay on the wall behind the throne, the red marble on the ground and on the walls shone as the sun rays serenely entered the castle despite the dark winter days.
The king looked up and saw the two men standing at the entrance to the hall and nodded. The magician arrived before King Berum and told him that the young Gerioh had the legendary sword of Gälnara, but did not understand why he was chosen, he was, after all, a horseman from a small southern coastal town.
The king asked the young man to come forward and once he was, announced:
- You are the chosen one by the sword of Gälnara, Gerioh, so be it.
- I understand that this is important to the kingdom and I accept this task.
- You will fight alongside one of my sons, Doltha, the best paladin of our county and you will learn to wield this sword. You must now reach the city of Varnum in the North-East; the great Mage Donnhum awaits you there. Take the royal griffin and get there quickly, said the monarch.
After this brief discussion, the young Gerioh returned to the weapons room where Doltha remained. He explained to the paladin the task at hand, the duty entrusted in him has the beholder of the sword. He was terrified. The two young men comforted each other, while the paladin was already a strong fighter, he reassured him that they were both prepared for any challenge. With doubt floating in their mind, the young men packed their bags and then went to the bird keeper where they laid eyes on the royal griffin. The animal was imposing with its shiny blue feathers. Its harness was big enough for them to sit on.
Doltha climbed first on the griffin, it became agitated, but calmed down soon after thanks to the keeper. The young paladin then signaled to Gerioh to come up. He was scared and hesitated a moment then got up on one side and in one swoop, landed in his seat. Doltha turned his head and nodded, Gerioh replied with the same motion. The keeper smacked the right side of the animal and it took off in a whirlwind. The young men felt the air brushing their cheeks and saw the great city of weapons shrinking as they went further up in the sky darkened by the black fumes of the previous battles...
Chapter Eight
The Paladin
The three Warriors ardently roamed the Mandrares Lands in search of the mysterious paladin from Kenthaë’s vision.
Each village they went through shared the same story, a specter was seen. Fear was spreading. The young adventurers were inexorably getting closer to their goal. The man appeared briefly in the village of Bäl-Geren.
They thus took the direction of Ponthal, a once prosperous small town disfigured by the Nevrigian invasion. West of the Mandrares Lands, close to the seas, Ponthal was known for its magical power. All the wise men of Hissfon had been there, the flowered alleys of this small city... you would find valuable advice and also rest awhile to meditate.
Before it’s destruction by the armies of the necromancer, life was booming in these lands and the inhabitants strolled around the shops filled with various products.
The three friends arrived in front of the main village entrance, riding their steed. The young men stopped suddenly when they saw inscriptions on the ramparts of the small city. Carhâa, who had learned much of the rites of the Nevrigians and their language, slowly advanced and tried to decipher them. After a few moments of hesitation, she turned to her companions and said:
- From what I understand, these symbols mean that the necromancer discovered the existence of the relic and that he will do everything to seize it, whoever gets in his way will suffer the same fate as what happened here...
- We have no time to lose! Exclaimed Artemion, “the relic and our people are in danger!”
Kenthaë added, "No hurry, my friend, we must first find this mysterious paladin in Bäl-Geren, he may be able to explain my vision to us."
- You are right, said Artemion looking towards the destroyed village.
When they arrived on the scene, Kenthaë saw sorrow in Carhâa's eye. He knew that this little village was his friend's, the memories came to fill the young woman's mind. Despite the sight of destruction, Carhâa did not admit defeat, it was necessary to find the paladin. The three Warriors therefore set out in search of the man who could help them understand such tragedy and thus guide them towards the Relic of Faln-Lannar.
The more they advanced, the more they realized the extent of this desolation, how ferocious and merciless the Nevrigians could be. They arrived near a common place where healer priests or Mages passed by when they stayed in the city. Now, no souls lived around. Artemion looked around him, his agitation intrigued Kenthaë. The intrepid Artemion then said:
- I heard some noise, behind those ruins...
He pointed to where the noise came from and then a halo of light burst and blinded them. A voice pronounced incantations and when suddenly, Carhâa shouted as loud as she could "No! Wait, wait, wait!” The halo dissipated and a man appeared where the light went out. The three young adventures noticed the symbols inscribed on either side of the body of this person who appeared before them, he was covered head to toe. It was none other than the mysterious paladin of Bäl-Geren.
Standing guard, it was up to Kenthaë to say the first words:
- We are the Warriors of Good from Auttum, in the East. Are you one of the former paladins in the service of the late King Gan-Tre?
- Yes, answered the man who waved an old scroll torn to pieces. “You shouldn’t be here,” he added, putting away what was used to cast the spell.
- We crossed the land from Bäl-Geren in the north, Kenthaë replied, “we have been looking for you for several days.”
- Why were you looking for me? I have nothing to give you!
- I saw you in vision, you were close to the Great Guardian of the Relic of Faln-Lannar, who gave it to you, Kenthaë said.
- Despite the power of this relic, I didn't see what was going to happen, I had nothing to do with it, added the man who sat on a nearby stone, looking exhausted.
- But what happened here, sir? Asked Carhâa, worried.
The paladin explained then his mission to protect the Relic of Faln-Lannar, it was so precious that he had to keep it with him; such was the will of the Great Guardian. He did not immediately understand why it had to be transported far from Bäl-Geren, a suitable place for this task. He then set off for Ponthal, the only village in the Mandrares Lands that could help him and added that the Relic could not give him the gift of premonition because it could only work when its bearer had conviction deep inside him, which the paladin did not. Thus, halfway through his mission, he was ambushed and the Relic was stolen.
The three W
arriors looked at each other and asked the man who were the attackers. The paladin said that it was a group of Nevrigians, helped by powerful sorcerers; a guard, in particular, held the man's attention, he was immense and had a harsh and deep voice. The paladin could not oppose them, for fear of dying. Carhâa looked at this man attentively, when their eyes crossed, they both looked away, as if something strong was preventing it. Kenthaë had noticed this game between them but the situation required a much greater focus. They decided cross a very dangerous path through the unnatural areas in order to find this malevolent group which took the Faln-Lannar Relic a few hours before.
In a hurry, the young men boarded their steeds, greeting the paladin who gave them precious information. They could not stand the idea that the mighty Relic had fallen into enemy hands, something so feared by the Great Guardian of Bäl-Geren. Like her companions, Carhâa glanced back intrigued by the tattooed man. The paladin saw her melt into the horizon, anxious at the thought of her going the other way. The glow of dusk invaded the surroundings, the man had to hurry; staying too long in the ruins of the village would be too dangerous.
Chapter Nine
The race
The three Warriors hurried to cover has much ground has possible before nightfall. Time was passing overwhelming fast. During their discussion before the departure, the paladin explained the situation and asked them to go as close as possible to Shâltara. He knew that it had become dangerous to approach the black fortress. If the surrounding quagmires did not kill them; guards and evil sorcerers would.
The Chronicles of Hissfon Volume 1 - The five Mages Page 3