The Chronicles of Hissfon Volume 1 - The five Mages

by Remy Lecornec

  The Shâaris

  He hurried out of the great room, in which were dispersed hundreds of manuscripts, all as precious as the others. Varnum was not Mage Donnhum's favorite domain, but this city was a great place of worship in which various magicians and sorcerers would find answers to their great questions. The mighty Mage found refuge here shortly after the Nevrigian invasion, the disappearance of his followers ended his settlement on the Sacred Mountain of Merhidios.

  Mage Donnhum knocked rapidly at a tiny door lacerated and aged by the years. A sharp voice asked, “Who is it?” The magician answered quickly, "My friend, time is short, and I need you.” The door squeaked open, a sorcerer revealed himself. He was dressed in a large purple robe, relics around his neck and the mark of the order of Shâaris present both on his forehead and temples. Shâaris sorcerers practiced magic in the greatest discretion, initiation rites made it possible to detect young people predisposed to become powerful allies in this field. It was not customary for these peaceful beings to handle great magic under the pretext of personal need, any unnecessary use could lead to painful sessions with the great Shâaris masters. That is why they preferred to devote themselves to long meditations and make themselves useful in consultation. With his eyes barely open, Ohnaha contemplated the impassive Mage Donnhum, who was seeking his advice:

  - I come to you in these uncertain times because an enigma has surfaced here, said the magician.

  - Rumor has it, Master.

  - Indeed, all the scrolls I have consulted share a common idea, Mage Donnhum replied, “but this information is so old and unproven!”

  - And you think I hold the truth? Ohnaha replied, “If what is said is true, you must leave the city with this young man and his friend. We do not desire to be at the mercy of the necromancer 's anger, too many cities have fallen under his might, we are still free here.”

  - So, you confirm what the texts refer to? Asked the magician twisting his beard in his trembling fingers, “if it turned out that Gerioh is the direct descendant of the great Gälno, then there is hope in defeating this wretched necromancer!”

  - Alone, Gerioh will have no chance against Thâar and his troops, said the sorcerer, “he will need help and time. I understand that he possesses the legendary Gälnara sword, a precious gift.”

  - It explains why he's the only one who can hold it! Said the Mage, his eyes filled with gleaming joy.

  The magician left the room as quickly as he entered, slamming the tiny door. He walked the many corridors that led to the courtyard where the two young men were.

  Gerioh stopped abruptly when he saw the Mage Donnhum bolting towards them. Doltha turned his head and said:

  - It seems like our waiting is over...

  - Finally! Gerioh exclaimed, I could not wait any longer, whatever the answer, we must know now, he said impatiently.

  - My friends! Cried out the Mage, “we must hurry. We must reach the scroll room.”

  - Why not tell us about your findings here? Asked the young horseman.

  - Let's keep our conversation quiet, these walls do not act as a barrier against evil ears.

  - Well, let's walk, Doltha said, grabbing his friend's arm.

  All three went into the great hall, entered and closed the enormous door behind them.

  - It is safer here, confided the Mage as he sat in his chair.

  - Safer for what purpose? You just learned something important, didn't you? Asked the paladin.

  - Sit down, my friends, what I am about to tell you is essential. I took the time to go through all the texts you see here, some more ambiguous than others, but none mentioned what the Shâaris sorcerers told me.

  The young men were eating every word Mage Donnhum said, they had been waiting for this moment for several hours already, the moon had appeared, the twilight was painted across the night sky.

  - We finally know why you are the bearer of the legendary sword of Gälnara, explained the Mage, pointing to Gerioh, “it was even obvious. Do you know your ancestors?”

  - No, I don’t, said Gerioh with hesitation.

  - Simply put, you are related to the Elder of Hissfon, Gälno, which explains why you are the only capable being to wield the sword and that it chose you in Galnor.

  - I am a descendant of the most powerful Ancient? Asked the horseman, looking around him. He grabbed his sword in amazement “How is that possible? I'm no one!”

  - You are most important! said Doltha, with a printed smile.

  - What should we do, Master? Gerioh asked, looking at both his friend and the Mage.

  - We must train you without wasting time, said the magician, “then we shall join my disciple, the Mage Tohn-Mâ and the three Warriors of Good. Our help is needed in the West, where war rages”, then added, “only the sword of Gälnara can put an end to this and restore peace in our lands.”

  The young friends rose and left the great room, Mage Donnhum accompanied them to inform King Hara, ruler of the kingdom of Shôl-Garâa.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The tortured

  On either side of the fateful citadel of Shâltara one could hear cries of pain, screams shattering the night like breaking glass. In a room barely lit by torches with sweaty walls, Artemion, naked and bloody, lay on one of the instruments of torture. With his wrists chained and his head resting on a rectangular stone, the brave Artemion was clinging to every breath. The pain was unbearable. His pupils fully contracted, blood flowed between his teeth and lacerations came to blacken his chest and back, but remained perfectly chiseled.

  One of the sorcerers about to cast a fatal spell when the young warrior shouted a name; “Ohnaha!” The magic ball faded quickly under his admission, a servant who saw the scene rushed out of the room and joined Count Nerrum:

  - Master, we have a name: Ohnaha!

  - Good, proceed with the second part of our plan, demanded the Count, "I will inform our black lord”.

  - What shall we do with the warrior? Inquired the guard, fleeing the tyrant’s gaze.

  - You know very well what to do. Give the remains to the black dragons of Bar-Hêdit!

  - Very well, my Master, your wish is my command.

  The imposing specter waved to dismiss the guard. The latter returned to the torture room where Artemion regained some of his stamina, but the evil sorcerer knocked him out into a deep coma.

  The troop

  The rain had not stopped and streamed over Kenthaë and Carhâa, their makeshift shelter was short lived. The lancer heard hooves treading on the arid ground. He peaked carefully, and then saw the banner of the Kingdom of Fahl floating in the air, in a surge of relief Kenthaë pulled himself out and waved, the troop arrived on the scene and joined the two cold shivering beings. One of the paladins came to their meeting to give them dry and freshly clothes which they put on immediately. Mage Tohn-Mâ joined them:

  - We lost Artemion, exclaimed Carhâa.

  - How did this happen? Asked the Mage as he sat beside her.

  - We were on our way to Shâltara when we were ambushed by the necromancer's henchmen. We tried to flee but Artemion was missing when we got out of danger.

  - You think he got captured? Asked the magician twisting his beard with his fingers.

  - Most likely, Master, Kenthaë replied while eating the dish of fresh meat and bread.

  - If this is the case, revealed the Mage Tohn-Mâ, “we must hasten towards the great black fortress. No one comes out of there alive. Take the horses we brought back and ride them to the citadel,” he added, “we will develop a strategy on the way there.”

  As soon as their dish was finished, the two warriors rode out and looked at each other, time was of the essence, every minute wasted would mean certain death to their friend.

  Without a word

  The troop arrived near the black citadel. In the distance, one could see magic bursting around the grounds of the fortress, chilling cries echoed, freezing the men where they stood. A macabre atmosphere weighed heavily and old rotting
ghouls were trying grasp the horses’ legs, magicians had to repel them away.

  The Mage Tohn-Mâ waved to his fellow travelers and halted. He turned around and said:

  - We must continue on foot, we will be stealthier and we’ll perhaps manage to slip through the brambles unseen. Kenthaë and Carhâa, come with me, pointing to two paladins and two healing priests.

  - I concur, said the lancer, leaving his things by him.

  Inside

  After a few hundred steps, while the sentries of Shâltara were swarming through the swamp, the small group arrived at the edge of a pit. Before committing himself to it, the Mage Tohn-Mâ cast a spell of clarity that allowed evil beings crawling around to appear. Nothing was in their way, they could then enter one of the caves on the side of the great black citadel, these holes were used to evacuate all kinds of horrible objects such as dismembered bodies or poisons which were used to torture prisoners captured by the necromancers of the fortress.

  The torches shone in the darkness, the sound of water drops endlessly echoed, a disgusting stench engulfed the group. A small light sparkled in the depths of this putrid abyss. Kenthaë went ahead to scout, rusty metal bars blocked their way but he was able to strike them down with his powerful sword. The shards scattered on the floor and a sharp noise broke the silence, everyone stopped abruptly, strident screams made the men look at each other in panic. Suddenly tiny arrows hit the walls around them. The Mage Tohn-Mâ quickly cast a spell of protection that surrounded them however, one of the Healers was perforated through and through by the sharp projectiles, he fell on his knees and looked at his blood-tinted hands. "No!" Carhâa shouted. A paladin turned his hammer so stiffly that flashes of fire gushed from it, he rushed out of the bubble and ran towards the ghouls and trolls of Nankage and shredded them all at once. In his turmoil, the young paladin let one of the servants escape. He ran inside the fortress to pursuit.

  The magician broke the protection spell and Carhâa threw herself to the ground in the direction of the healing priest. Her friend tried to heal his wounds but they were too critical, in one last breath the healer looked at them and said:

  - Do not turn away from the light, my friends, find your companion, the Warrior and quickly leave this wretched place.

  - We will do everything in our power to put an end to this war, added the other priest.

  - We must hurry, my friends, suggested the Mage, “another wave of these servants will come to meet us if we do not leave now.”

  - Go away! Yelled the healer. He closed his eyes and joined the elders of Hissfon in an intense glow, illuminating the corridor.

  A paladin slayed the beasts that remained alive. Kenthaë led them onwards, sword in hand, pushing further into long dark tunnel.

  The way out

  The small troop discreetly arrived near the large room where Artemion lay, collapsed on the stone of torture. The loss of the healer left bitter thoughts in everyone's mind. It was unthinkable for them to let another of their companion left for dead in certain agony. One of the two paladins took out a damaged parchment, then read the incantations when a guard approached, spell-stunning him, Carhâa took this moment to shadow the wall, remaining unseen even by the torches’ dim light.

  After a few steps, the young woman attempted to rescue her friend who was growing restless:

  - Calm down, Artemion, she said.

  - I... I... couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

  - We must move quickly, Carhâa said in an obvious haste, “we could be seen and the guard will not stay in this state for long.”

  The courageous volunteer broke the chains that kept the colossus' bloody wrists tied. As soon as they got up, a ghoul saw the scene and howled, a shrill and intense cry echoed repetitively in the many corridors and rooms of the great black citadel. Kenthaë tossed his sword and impaled the hideous monster but it was too late, growls and footsteps made the walls tremble.

  The Mage Tohn-Mâ asked for the two friends. Without delay, they rushed as best they could to the group, dozens of sorcerers and other trolls of Nankage arrived from everywhere. Posted at every entrance, it was then impossible to leave. One of the guards stood before the Mage and his companions and shouted:

  - Follow us!

  - I don’t think so! Kenthaë cried out.

  The guard took a step forward and put his rusty blade under the Mage's throat:

  - Another word and you'll all perish! The pathetic servant cried out. “Throw all your magic weapons to the ground”, he commanded.

  - Let us do as he tells us, my friends, asked Mage Tohn-Mâ.

  With a distressing look Kenthaë dropped his precious sword hesitantly, his friends did the same. The guard looked at each of them and stopped suddenly on Carhâa:

  - Woman, your medallion. Give it to me!

  - Never! I'd rather die than give you this medallion...

  - If it’ll come to that... you miserable scum! Said the guard commanding one of the ghouls to throw himself at her.

  - Give it to him, I implore you, said Kenthaë, looking head down at the ground.

  Carhâa obeyed and threw her mighty bracelet at the guard, he grabbed it and put it in one of his pockets. He then signaled to them to move forward, without flinching and hopeless, the small troop did so.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A magical destiny

  Gerioh struggled honorably with his sword in the great courtyard of Varnum, while half a dozen guards attempted to approach him. Doltha looked at him passively, while holding a few scrolls. The young paladin could feel the courage of the horseman. Even being endowed with power by his lineage, used to see magical beings, powerful men or fierce monsters walking the Great Plains of the North, his admiration for Gerioh reached its apogee at that very moment. He knew how important he was in this Great War against the Nevrigians and the necromancer Thâar. Protecting him was his sole mission.

  As the two boys were training, a powerful light appeared by Mage Donnhum. He stepped back and a white orb formed. The wind whistled followed by a blinding glow. The silhouette of the Oracle Tenchlar appeared before them, levitating above the white marble stones:

  - Lord of magic of the Old World and of the Lost Lands, an unexpected event takes place in the lands of the West, at the great black citadel!

  - What is Oracle? Asked Mage Donnhum, “What's going on?”

  - My visions warned me of a disorder in the magic, the intrepid Artemion was captured, his companions went to his rescue, but failed!

  The magician's eyes widened, confused, he already knew that the Relic of Faln-Lannar was stolen by the necromancer, but this news upset him.

  - You must leave immediately to the fortress of Shâltara, she added, “the future of our world is at stake.”

  - Certainly. We must hurry! I will gather the young men and will leave the city through one of my portals.

  “Doltha! Gerioh!” Yelled the great white magician, the two young men turned around and joined the Mage to top of the tower of Varnum. The Mage Donnhum took out a scroll and read the written incantations. He turned his right hand, drawing a circle and threw a ball of light to the ground. A great portal of light appeared. All three entered and were instantly teleported to the great black citadel.

  Dilemma

  The small group was escorted through the countless rooms of the fortress of Shâltara, they stop abruptly at large door. The creaking hinges froze the prisoners. A red glow appeared through the frame and a gigantic shape stood stiffly in front of the group. A piercing and penetrating voice said:

  - So, there you are, before me, announced the voice. Coming here was grave mistake... Bring me the Relic!

  - We do not have it! Shouted Kenthaë, “and you never will!”

  - Calm down, said the Mage Tohn-Mâ.

  - You're not going to let him treat us that way, if it turns out he holds the Faln-Lannar Relic...

  - Do not be so sure... you poor mortal! Yelled the necromancer pointing to one of his servants.

  A paladin
made his entrance and ran towards the black lord, the sight took the Mage Tohn-Mâ’s breath away:

  - Hâan, how is this possible? You betrayed us! Now I understand why you knew all these things before crossing the Shôl-Lana River!

  - I am sorry, master, replied the young paladin, "but things must change in our world, it is insane agony, kings die and try in vain to fight over the few lands they have left. We will never be free under your influence," he said, pointing fingers at the members of the group.

  - Free? Asked the Mages, do you think we are slaves? Do you think the necromancer can make these lands more fertile? Death is all he sows. Did you not see what became of the Swamps of Zhalnor, once prosperous lands of the Fourth Kingdom...?

  - Lies! Said the paladin bitterly as he approached the necromancer, “our black lord speaks only the truth!”

  - Your spirit has darkened, my young friend, look at us and join the light, you cannot end up like this.

  A white halo appeared in one of the corners of the great room, near the prisoners. Winds swirled intensely, blinded those who did not shield their eyes, a portal opened and brought in the Mage Donnhum escorted by the two young men. With a keen gaze, Doltha wielded his hammer and cast a powerful spell. Gerioh went and threw himself at the ghouls and impaling them with the sword of Gälnara. The spell cast by the young paladin reduced the other servants to ashes, Mage Donnhum's eyes crossed those of the necromancer.

  The great white magician chanted an incantation, his eyes glittered blue, with a throw of hands, a powerful flash of light was directed on the necromancer, alas it was deflected by his stick but the young Hâan was thrown several strides back and the Relic fell from between his fingers.

  Carhâa, who witnessed the scene, escaped from the group and ran towards the body of the young man lying on the ground to retrieve the powerful object. After quickly grabbing it, the young woman went to join her companions under the fires of the powerful flash of light, all did the same while the Mage Tohn-Mâ took over. The magician raised his stick and ejected projectiles towards the necromancer, which gave time to the Mage Donnhum to create a new portal. When the mighty Thâar saw the luminous door being created before him, he summoned servants from another world with forbidden hymns, some of these demons were as high as three men, huge and strong arms hit the ground and made it tremble, Death priests rose up from the stone slabs and began dreadful incantations which fired shreds of rotting flesh, burning the ground near the small crowd. Mage Donnhum was forced to capitulate: