Shadowbane: Age of Aelfborn Page 5

  The Irekei stopped him a short distance from the runemaster and continued alone. He spoke with the runemaster and pointed to Megildur during the conversation. Megildur noticed at that time, that all the runemasters looked alike. They appear Human and wear the same modest white hooded robe. Then the runemaster nodded to the Irekei leader, accepted the orders, and the Irekei motioned for the boy to approach. Megildur walked to the runemaster, the Irekei leader shook his hand.

  The Irekei leader bellowed out, “Good hunting on your journey Aelfborn! May Kryquo'khalin, the Holy Source of the Sun, shine his blessing upon you.” The Irekei leader sneered and walked off, leaving the boy with the runemaster.

  “So my master has ordered me to transport you to Sea Dog’s Rest,” the runemaster said to Megildur. “Are you ready?” The boy nodded and the runemaster waved his hands to begin transporting Megildur. Upon arriving in Sea Dog’s Rest, the Aelfborn wasted no time with loitering around that place. He approached the runemaster near the tree and requested passage to New Mellissar, but he was unsure of what he must do next.

  CHAPTER 7: Zeristan the Wise

  Once he arrived in his own safehold, Megildur dropped to his knees, overwhelmed to his very core. He had never even left his village for more than an afternoon before this whole disaster began. Only sixteen years old, expected to save his sister, and to fulfill some destiny was too much for the young Aelfborn. The boy sat there uncertain of what to do next, when a cloaked figure approached and spoke to him.

  “So how did you enjoy your first visit to the deserts of Aerynth, boy?” The cloaked figure inquired. The voice sounded all too familiar, but Megildur was unable to see the face of the stRanger. It was impossible to see with the sun in his eyes and the cloak shading the stRangers face. The stRanger drew back his cloak and Megildur could see the elderly man who saved him from the Irekei in Sea Dog’s Rest.

  Megildur queried the old man, “Who are you old man, and how did you know I was in the desert?”

  The old man chuckled, “You mean besides the sand pouring from your boots? We can discuss that after you clean up and get some sustenance, let’s go Aelfborn.” The old man guided the boy into a building. He tossed a gold coin to the woman behind the counter and pushed Megildur into a backroom. “Alright boy, clean that wretched desert off of you and then we can talk.” The boy found a washtub in the room filled with water and some cloth to dry with afterwards. Before he could remove his clothes the elderly man entered with some clothing and fresh boots. “Here, put this on once you clean yourself.” He walked back out and Megildur removed his clothes and jumped in the water. It was the first time he has been clean in weeks.

  His mother would have never let him get that bad. Mother…it was the first time he thought of his parents in some time as well. Did they find his sister? Did they have better fortune than he. The boy wasted no time in cleaning the entire desert off him. He wanted to get out of the washtub and find out why this old man kept showing up. What does he want? He removed as much dirt, sand as possible, and stood from the washtub to dry his aching body. He put on the oversized clothing and boots and walked into the next room. The elderly man bellowed, “Now you look more presentable, boy! Here, come sit down before you collapse from starvation.”

  Megildur sat down at the old man’s table but wondered how much he already had to drink. “I thank you for your assistance but I must know, who are you and why do you keep appearing out of nowhere?” Megildur now demanded to know the identity of the old man.

  The old man let out a deep sigh and set down his drink, seemingly reluctant to talk about himself. “Alright, it seems only fitting I tell you my tale, especially to the heir of Cambruin.” He winked at Megildur but he thought the old man was crazy about him being royalty. “My name is Zeristan…”

  Megildur lashed out, “Hold your tongue, old man! You expect me to believe you are Zeristan the Wise, Wizard and Counselor to the late High King Cambruin? A drunk like you is the mightiest Wizard in all of Aerynth?” The boy began to laugh.

  The old man sneered at the boy and waved his hands. Megildur opened his eyes after laughing. He was in hovering in midair outside of the establishment. The boy plummeted a short distance to the ground. He landed in some soft hay meant for livestock. Fortunately, the hay was clean but it stuck out of his hair and clothing, giving him the appearance of a scarecrow. He looked upward to see the old man descending from the sky, more graciously than him. The Wizard, of course, proved his powers of teleportation and levitation. “What I expect from you, boy, is the respect I have earned! I am older than anyone in Aerynth and more powerful, do not forget that!” Megildur nodded in amazement at him. Zeristan transported them back to their table after reaching the ground. “Now, if we can continue without any more disrespectful outbursts!” Zeristan glared at Megildur but the boy looked away, hoping to avoid any more demonstrations of his powers. “So you have heard of me from your parents then?”

  The boy replied, “My father used to tell me the tales of Cambruin during the Age of Kings.”

  “Ah yes, I remember those days well,” Zeristan responded. “Those were glorious days, once High King Cambruin possessed Shadowbane.” He stared off remembering days long past when mighty kingdoms sought his counsel and powers. Megildur could see he was reminiscing, but he needed his assistance here and now.

  Megildur interjected, trying to bring Zeristan back to this reality. “You spoke of Shadowbane before being the sword that the Traitor used to pin Cambruin to the Tree of Life? What’s so special about a sword?”

  “Shadowbane is no mere sword!” Zeristan retorted. “Thurin, the God of Forge and Craft, constructed Shadowbane during the Age of Twilight. He created it to battle an ancient evil so powerful and so feared that the eldest of Elven brethren referred to it as the Terror of Terrors and the Irekei called it Kryquo'khalin.”

  “Terror of Terrors?” The boy asked even though the name alone struck fear in his heart. “What is this ancient evil?”

  “A dragon who laid in slumber beneath the ground, deep inside Aerynth,” Zeristan described the early encounter with the dragon. “Nobody recalls what woke the creature but his might and fury shook the world. It toppled many of the great Elven cities and its fiery breath alone created the Sun in the sky. Before this tragedy, Aerynth bathed in constant moonlight from two moons, one was Gold and the other Silver. Thusly, they named that period of time the Age of Twilight.” Zeristan continued, Megildur sat there listening in awe. “It took the combined power of The All-Father, Thurin, and another mighty God, Kenaryn the Hunter, in order to subdue the dragon back into Aerynth. Kenaryn even broke the tip of his mighty spear into the eye of the beast. Once they wounded the beast, it withdrew into a deep slumber near the core of the world. The Elves thanked the Gods for their help. However, the Elves feared they would be defenseless if the Terror ever woke again. Fearing for the Children of Braialla, Thurin promised to construct a weapon so powerful that it would have no equal. The light emanating from Shadowbane would subdue all shadows.”

  “Shadowbane!” Megildur interposed. “Besides the fact that a God made Shadowbane, what makes it so special?”

  Zeristan stared at the boy in disbelief. “Well, apparently your father did not tell you the most important details. I guess that is why the All-Father sent you to me.” The old Wizard shook his head and waved his hands. A vision of the sword appeared before Megildur. He just sat, staring at it in wonder. “The blade is as black as the deepest depths in Aerynth. No other weapon is stronger nor does it possess the same metal. Thurin forged Shadowbane using a mixture of adamant, truesteel, and truesilver, which the Dwarves ground from the Bones of the World. Thurin took the blade and quenched it in the acidic blood of the dragon. He tempered the weapon, in case the beast ever emerged again. Look closely at the hilt and you will see the mark of the Terror on the guard. On the opposite end…the mark of The All-Father on the pommel. Around the grip, tightly spiraled, is golden wire fashioned from a lock of hair that Malog gave
to Thurin. That was all that remained of his beloved wife, Volliandra. She died in her palace on the Golden Moon when the Terror unleashed his fiery breath, before the Gods drove the beast back into the pit from which he came.”

  Megildur inquired, “So Shadowbane never fulfilled its intended design? Since they never used Shadowbane against the dragon, what became of the sword?” The tale of the mighty sword intrigued the boy.

  Zeristan jested, “Well, I see I have your full attention now.” Megildur gave him a perturbed look but he could not deny his fascination for the saga of the weapon crafted by the Gods. The Wizard continued, after seeing the annoyance on the boy’s face. “To put the Elves at ease with the thought of the dragon returning, Thurin presented the sword to the Elven King Sillestor. Sillestor named the sword Shadowbane, the mighty sword with a light to vanquish the Shadow of Oblivion. It was the greatest blade ever forged and the last crafted by Thurin the Shaper. Constructing Shadowbane grievously maimed the God of Forge and Craft, Father of the Dwarven race. He could handle the heat of the forge but the intensity from the foul sweltering blood of the dragon was more than even Thurin could withstand. The dragon’s blood burned Thurin’s left hand to the bone, forcing him to wear a glove to cover the hideousness.”

  Megildur exclaimed, “And this is the sword you say I am destined to reclaim from the Tree of Life? The same tree of stone that the Traitor pinned the High King Cambruin to?” Zeristan nodded in agreement. Megildur shouted as he stood to his feet across the table from the Wizard. “You expect a mere Aelfborn boy, who has never left his village, to find a missing sword that Knights failed to find and defeat a Terror that even Gods could not?”

  Zeristan bellowed, standing toe-to-toe with Megildur, “I expect you to be the man that your father and the All-Father know you are! Your mother and father fought bravely for both you and your sister. I would expect nothing less from the man bearing the mark of the All-Father!” Staring deep into Megildur’s eyes, Zeristan placed his hand on the Aelfborn’s shoulder. “You must no longer think of yourself as the boy from a small village. You are now a man who has survived multiple abductions, survived the hottest desert in all of Aerynth, and lived to tell the tale.” Zeristan now had a grin on his face, embracing Megildur and walking with him out the doorway. “Now, let us go forth and find you a force worthy of engaging the Dar Khelegur and retrieve your sister.”

  “You never told me, how did you know they took me to the desert?” Megildur inquired.

  Zeristan jested, “Who did you think that was hovering over the encampment covering your daring escape?”

  Megildur retorted, “Then where were you when the Manticore snuck up behind me? That beast could have made a Knight’s feast out of me!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous Megildur,” Zeristan chortled. “That beast was only a cub!”

  The two of them walked off laughing toward the gates exiting New Mellissar. Now if only Megildur knew where to find anyone else to help him save his sister, anyone bold enough to face the Elves of the High Mountains. Megildur felt more confident having a mighty Wizard on his side. Now, he just needed an army.

  CHAPTER 8: Centaur Cohort

  “Where do we go from here?” Megildur asked. He knew they needed help but was unaware of anyone daring enough to challenge the Elven nations.

  “We seek a race that hates the Elves, even more than you do right now,” Zeristan replied. “We seek the Centaur race, more specifically the Centaur Cohort safehold of Fort Ekarros.” Megildur was familiar with this place, since they were neighbors who kept to themselves. Fort Ekarros was just north of his home, Fort Viatrus, but Megildur had never met a Centaur before. He heard tales of the Horse Lords deep hatred for the Elves since the Age of Twilight. The Centaurs rallied behind their Godly Father, Kenaryn the Hunter, against the Dar Khelegur, when the Elves defied the All-Father.

  Once they passed through the gates of New Mellissar, Zeristan turned to Megildur. “Now, you will need to travel much faster than you have so far.” Zeristan waved his hands and the Aelfborn cringed, fearing he may send him somewhere unpleasant again. Instead, nothing happened. He just stared back at Zeristan. The old man bellowed, “Well, try running around.” Megildur was unsure of what Zeristan was up to but he figured he would play along. He began to run, but it was much faster than he had ever travelled before. It felt as if he was running on the clouds and moving faster than a bird. He stopped just short of running the old Wizard over.

  Megildur cheered, “This is amazing, what did you do?” He tried to keep his composure, which was difficult at this point.

  “I applied a temporary magical enchantment to your boots to give them the speed of the Windlords,” Zeristan replied. “Your speed has increased. This will decrease our travel time and make our journey to Fort Ekarros easier.” After a few more times of Megildur running in circles, and receiving stares from Zeristan, the two of them continued north on the path toward Fort Ekarros. Megildur felt more at ease having Zeristan with him. His last trip in this direction landed him in the desert and nearly incinerated by a religious cult. They traveled for a short time but covered a great distance. Megildur glanced at their destination ahead of them. He noticed an overturned cart in the road and an arm protruding from it. He began to slow when Zeristan grabbed his shoulder and shook his head, letting him know not to slow down. Zeristan motioned forward with his other hand projecting an energy bolt in front of them. This energy blast knocked the cart from the path and sent the body flying out. Megildur was in shock. He felt they might have been able to save the injured traveler if Zeristan had not blasted the cart. From the corner of his eye, Megildur detected something shiny. He turned his head just in time to see an arrow flying in their direction. Zeristan waved his hand in the direction of the arrow, and it vanished from sight. The old man sent another energy bolt in the direction the arrow traveled from and knocked the assailant to the ground. Zeristan gave Megildur a slight grin. They both continued forward on their journey, but the Aelfborn looked upset.

  Soon after, they reached a safehold. Megildur assumed it was Fort Ekarros. Zeristan halted before reaching the entrance.

  Megildur scolded, “What happened back there with destroying that cart? We could have helped that person before you hurled them to the winds!”

  Zeristan replied, “That was an ambush, my young Aelfborn. You still have much to learn about traveling about in Aerynth. These roads can be treacherous. Marauders would like nothing more than to leave you lifeless on the side of the road. They also would relieve you of your worldly possessions.” Zeristan wrapped his arm around Megildur and proceeded toward the gates. It was true the Aelfborn did have much to learn. He never traveled across Aerynth, until now.

  When they reached the entry to the safehold, Megildur assumed the pair of guards standing outside were Centaurs. He heard that they possess the upper half of a man and their lower half was that of a horse, and that was exactly what these guards looked like. They stood taller than most beings in Aerynth. Large and majestic creatures they are. Zeristan declared, “Brave and noble Horse Lords. My companion and I seek a meeting with your Ruler.”

  “Who calls upon the Ruler of the Centaur Cohort?” One of the guards demanded. Both guards drew their weapons and Megildur feared the worst. He was sure Zeristan could handle these two but he was unsure of what adversaries were beyond the gates.

  The old Wizard proclaimed, “Zeristan the Wise. I was Wizard and counselor to the late High King Cambruin and ally to the Centaurs.” He turned to Megildur and whispered, “I hate boasting about myself, but the Centaurs are meticulous about formalities and presentation.

  “It is I whom you seek, oh wise Wizard,” a voice came from behind the gates. The large gates opened and the two guards bowed to the one who spoke. He was a tall Centaur donning an armor so bright it was nearly blinding when the sun shone upon it. The Centaur moved out into the open and Zeristan gazed upon their leader as if he recognized him.

  “Atreus!” Zeristan cried out. “
It’s good to look upon you old friend!” He walked up and greeted the leader of the Centaur Cohort. “We must speak to you on an urgent matter.” He turned to the Aelfborn and introduced him, “This is Megildur, and it is his quest we need to discuss with you.”

  “As you wish Zeristan,” Atreus replied. “Please enter my home.” He guided them past the entryway and into Fort Ekarros. Structures lined the fence perimeter and the center of the safehold was bursting with Centaur villagers. They seemed to be both curious and startled by the new arrivals. This clan of Centaurs did not coexist with other races but they did not persecute other non-Centaur beings. They were a peaceful people, until provoked. Then they could be fierce opponents. Atreus guided the two travelers into a large structure in the safehold and sat them down on a stone structure. “Forgive the accommodations, we do not get many non-Centaur visitors,” Atreus admitted.

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Zeristan replied. “We are just grateful you took us in and allowed us an audience with you.” This was the most respectful and humble Megildur had ever seen the old man. It was a side of him he had never witnessed. He was grateful for this side of Zeristan, since his diplomacy may be what saves his sister.

  “The honor is mine, old friend,” Atreus replied. “Now you mentioned having an urgent matter to discuss?” Both Atreus and Zeristan turned to Megildur, as if they expected him to speak. The thought of having to be diplomatic and request assistance from someone he had never met terrified the Aelfborn. He had a tough enough time speaking with his parents or the elders of his village. His heart began to race and his palms began to sweat. If he did not control his composure soon, fainting in front of both of them would be next. He took a deep breath and steadied his nerves.