Inner Peace 1979

4th Chapter - Step Into a New Path

2011-04-21T13:29:00.000-07:00

After a pleasantly filling breakfast, Rogar asked Neilkot for more advice, especially concerning what to carry. He also asked permission to sleep before lunch so that his head would be fresher, after the early morning trial. Neilkot acquiesced and supported Rogar’s request.
While Rogar went to his room to pack up and rest, Neilkot walked down to the tower hall where he met with a hooded visitor. This person had a dignified posture and yet the face was covered by the shadow of the hood. Neilkot didn’t seem to mind; in fact he was quite familiar with the cloaked figure.

- Please watch over them and keep them safe. There is much they must learn on this short outing, and it would be better if you would only interfere as a last resort.

The figure nodded.

- As for the guide, we should expect Swallow to arrive after lunch.

- Indeed. I should make my way then. – said the elegantly spoken voice. – I expect them to be safe at least until Lüil town, where they should leave their horses at the services of Gwenson’s Inn, so that they may be returned to Triadinma within the week. My cousin will take the horses gladly, but Swallow must carry a token from you, so that there is no doubt they’ve completed the first stage of the trip and so that my cousin knows they’re the true travelers sent by you.

- Agreed. As always you have my deepest thanks. May the light guide and protect you in these dark times, old friend.

They both bowed.
Neilkot handed on an envelope to the hooded figure and that person walked out quietly.

Later on, when Rogar awoke from his rest he enjoyed the sound of chirping sparrows by the window. However, as he remembered that task that lay ahead of him a knot close on his gut and pleasant sounds from the world around him were shut out. Yet he was resolute not to fail his master, and he would see to it that the letter would be quickly delivered, so that he could return to Neilkot’s tower.
Bucling his mantle under his backpack, he gazed one last time around the small room for anything that could prove useful, just in case.
Triadinma’s noon bells echoed on Molluir hill and Rogar reassured himself that Neilkot had given him sufficient advice. The time to step outside the tower would inevitably come and he didn’t want any scorn directed at him from arriving late at the lunch table. So he took a last look at his small room and cherished window, where he’ often fallen asleep stargazing, and quietly closed the door – praying for a safe return.
Rogar returned to the kitchen in a somber mood but made a point not to complain about anything. Neilkot noticed his pupil was tense but trying to be strong. He understood the young boy’s turmoil. However if Rogar was to become a strong wizard he couldn’t keep on hiding behind the comfortable walls of the tower.
Wrungloth, the region containing Triade and Western Navangor, was at risk, he thought. Several had foreseen the Marzolk menace as a threat to the very existence of Triade. He had agreed but many wanted to aid the neighboring Gohruir country.
It was up to each and every Triadin citizen to stand for their own freedom and the subsistence of their own collective home. In all its many centuries this had been one of the few times there had been differing views amongst Triadins on an affair concerning other nations.
The wisdom of the elves and the dragons had helped humans understand that rushing into battle just because someone said they should was not the best option, especially considering the many losses for either side. But the humans had argued that what was moving their view was not a hot headed whim but rather concern over the growing dangers in neighboring lands.
Awengoil had sent word, later on, that the dark cloud of Marzolk was much wider and its aim was far from the vast libraries and luxurious markets from Gohruir. They had stated that the Marzolk were indeed after the unique alliance between Men, Elves and Dragons; their blood, but mostly their enslavement. For the power they could provide that southern nation was far too great to ignore or not to conquer.
Neilkot shook his head when he realized that he had been mumbling his thoughts in front of his pupil.

Rogar was looking at him quizzically but looked back at his bowl, diving into his own thoughts.
When the awkwardly silent meal ended, Rogar stood up and collected the dishes while Neilkot still dwelled in his issues.
He walked out with a basin to do the dishes but returned immediately after, accompanied by none other than the Swallow.
Neilkot shouted in joy, jumping out of the table to greet the person Rogar almost absolutely ignored was standing next to him.

- Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?! Let me look at you. You seem to have grown stronger in the past few months!

The black haired young man shrugged his shoulders and laughed lightly, showing Rogar a voice of a man who couldn’t be much older than him, not by three years. He seriously doubted this could be his guide and assumed he was one of those pupils who would come in the middle of the summer season to learn about history or basic ward spells for their families or county’s farms.

- Oh, Swallow! It certainly is a pleasure to see you again! If only you’d arrived earlier you could have joined our oatmeal honey lunch. Come now, sit by the fire with me and tell me of the North.

They both moved towards the fireplace while Rogar felt slightly neglected. He decided to resume his cleaning duties and walked outside, down to the stream by the tower to fetch the water needed to boil and wash his share.

- … And when you return you shall share all the news you can, if you please. – That was all that Rogar could hear when he came back, half limping under the wight of the full basin.

The stranger nodded quietly and stretched his legs toward the fire. Rogar was busy though, and cared little but for the funnel he needed to pour all the water from the basin into the clay boiling pot he would warm it up in.
When he was finished he struggled to walk up to the fire beside the pair and hung the pot over the fire. He motioned away from them in order to give the privacy but Neilkot called him.

- Rogar, I would like to introduce you to the Swallow, this is your guide to Keylarmir.

Rogar immediately bowed, closing his eyes and breathing in, trying to contain his nerves as the departure approached.

- Pleased to meet you, Rogar – said the young voice – I hope we will arrive at Keylarmir swiftly and safely, so that your mission can be carried out and our nation helped, in this time of sorrow. – Rogar looked up, somewhat surprised at the friendliness in the other one’s voice; he had no answer except a bewildered stare.

The awkward moment was broken be Neilkot’s cough.
He stood up and took his pupil’s shoulders in his hands.

- Now remember my advice and pay heed to the Swallow, please.

His voice was warm with care and that helped Rogar understand that his master had no ill wish upon him.
Rogar bit his lip and turned around quickly, walking up to the door where his backpack lay. He picked it up and asked:

- Shall we leave immediately? – He couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice.

The Swallow winked at Neilkot reassuringly, while he stood there realizing he was sending the closest he had ever had to a son off to a heavy ordeal.

- Make sure both of you get to Keylarmir fast and safe, and make sure you return twice as much of it as when you went. May the light guide your steps and may our Father keep you in His grace.

Rogar walked down to the stables, half ignoring the figure walking behind him. He was actually grateful that Neilkot had encouraged the sport of horseback riding, in which he’d been growing confident. He knew he was meaker than most boys his age, but the sport gave him more balance, endurance and made his overall constitution shape up.
Before the previous stage in wizardry training he had been proud to ride with one hand only, which allowed Neilkot to train him with simple spellcasting while in motion.
But the duties at the tower and even the fact the Rogar was fond of Kaze – the grey horse – didn’t affect how uneasy he was outside the protective woods of the tower.
Once they got to the stable the Swallow pulled out a stunning black stallion that impressed Rogar enough to drop Kaze’s reigns. Kaze snorted in amusement which shook him out of his amazement.
In a feat of agility, the Swallow sat on the back of the giant horse, while Rogar got up on Kaze, feeling a little daunted at the difference in horse heights.

- Make sure your belongings are very well fastened, friend, for we shouldn’t take a break before the sun starts to set. – Rogar nodded, checked his knots and buckles and put his winter gloves and scarf on, covering his mouth.

- …ready!

- Hai!! – shouted the Swallow and both horsed sprung to a fast gallop out of the stables, bound north.

Relieved to have a strong wind facing them Rogar didn’t bother to hide his tears and he was resolute not to look back.

____________________________________________________________________________

- How you ever came to be outside of our country is a mystery to me, but even more mysterious than that is how you managed to escape those Gohruirin marauders and make it as far into our forest as you did. – A male voice stated matter of factly somewhere ahead.

- Let this sort of mystery disturb you not, brother, where this one is being taken such puzzles are easily solved. – Stated yet another voice, with an alert ring to its tone.

The makeshift litter where he was being carried jolted he fell back into its center. Murtair had hoped the strangers would not have noticed his subtle escape maneuver. They had outsmarted him and even tied his hands and feet in a tighter knot. Having his hands and feet tied hadn’t been a problem before as he had managed to evade other dire situations.

OK. So now I can’t get out of here. I’ll just slow my breath down and try to feel in which direction I am being taken. So far these people can either fly or they really know this ground because I haven’t felt any imbalance since they’ve put me up here.
I think we’ve been moving for more than three hours except for water stops. I counted two or three streams, where one could have been a lower pass of the first one. Apart from the wind on the nearby trees and the water in these streams I have no idea where I am. Well, there is no point in giving into far now. They haven’t even threatened my life so far, so I shouldn’t let myself lose it just yet.
I should reach back into my memories and try to work out a way to deal with these people and this quiet place.

Outside the limits of his blindfold there was a group of nice rangers and scouts; three of them elves who always remained silent though puzzled and all the more attentive to this new stranger who had somehow crossed the borders of the Mythal.
They could tell that as quietly as the half elf prisoner was behaving, he was clearly still brooding on how to escape their control. They could also tell that he seemed to have very little knowledge of these lands and the extent of Triadin people’s skills.
His skills had been developed on the advantage of his innate agility and clearly keen wits, but he didn’t have self-discipline that could match any of those in the collecting party.
One of the elves looked at his tiger companion, walking at a distance and reminded himself of an important tactical lesson: A cat may be surrounded by a pack of dogs but it might still bite and scratch, perhaps even more fiercely because it is outnumbered.
Most of the other collectors kept on their march, not allowing Murtair’s litter to come uneven by an inch. It was of the utmost importance that the prisoner would not have any idea as to where he was going and just as important as that, that he had no idea what kind of terrain they were treading. This would render him much more vulnerable to the hidden dangers of their woods, hills and mountains. And so everybody kept their careful stride quietly, for there was more than a crow’s mile to hike before they could reach camp, deliver their finding and finally break their fast and take their rest from the late shift.

Immerse in somber thoughts of unexpected defeat, Zack realized that the guards around him and even the forest with its creatures had become somewhat tense.
The scouts and rangers there grew quiet and seemed to speak to each other only through their eyes, as if none of them were comfortable enough to utter a single sound.
The complete silence had become so strained that even the wind seemed to have halted, expecting something to happen.
After a while, a large group walked out of the shadows, carrying a litter with a hooded man cuffed on it. The whole camp seemed to hold their breath as the litter was laid down, not too far from one of the bonfires. The wood crackled and the entire forest seemed to breathe again, relieved by the return of its freedom to be…

The hooded man suddenly sprang up from his seeming slumber and tried to make a run towards the emptier side of camp. Zack watched how he tumbled and rolled, trying to escape. It all seemed a little pathetic – though Zack was not amused – yet he had noticed the ability shown by the man in perceiving the strategic way out of the area. He also understood the reason why had been blindfolded and so carefully taken there; which also made him reflect on the reasons why he had received somewhat different treatment. Maybe they didn’t see him as a threat, or maybe he had just given up, after seeing the letter of honor’s seal being broken before he had arrived at Snulkrag.

Now all he knew was that he was in Wrungloth – the Triade country – and he only hoped that the safely kept nation would somehow restore the seal of his letter of honor, so that he could regain his freedom and move on toward his own destiny.

The other man had been swiftly and seemingly effortlessly subdued by two elves that moved both like shadows, quite and smooth, and like panthers, ferocious and precise. The taller elf touched his neck and wrist, causing him to collapse unconscious. They carried him away towards another bonfire. As they passed the bushes’ threshold Zack realized he had been holding his breath and shook his head, readjusting his body so as to not become sore.
After a moment, the elves tending the nearest bonfire stood up and bowed unexpectedly. They walked away and a shadow passed where they had stood, through the invisible side of the tree Zack had been bound to. A second later, a dark blue cloak stood in front of him, its intricate golden embroidery gleaming under the bonfire’s light.

- Are you too weak to stand? – a sober voice asked from the shade of the hood.

- I would if not by the ropes that bind me.

- Let them not assail you any longer, Navangorian. – they loosened immediately as he spoke – and let us make each other’s acquaintance.

Zack stood up slowly and faced the figure.

- I am Merellas, son of Arthelas and Iwainil, keeper of the folk in the southeastern SIlovain Woods, where Rapsengor is no longer and Wrungloth prospers under the Triadin Nation. – He then kept quiet, allowing his words to sink in and waiting for a reply. Zack had been perplexed. The name Merellas was all too familiar to him, though shrowded in distant memories.

- My name is Zack – Zacharya, son of Eastern Navangor and ranger of those lands, sent out to aid in the Gohruirin conflict as the justice in my heart would see fairest. But allow me sir, your name is not unknown to me although it has just been unveiled from my memory.

- And how would you know of me if you’ve never before set foot on these here lands? – The hooded figure hinted a smile in his voice.

- Well, sir, for a good six years I received my best training from a hermit named Nerellas. But it was far north even in Navangorian lands, and even though he mentioned Merellas, Arthelas and Iwainil, those lands are so far away that maybe it’s an entirely different family.

- When did you last hear of this master of yours? – The sober tone had returned to the mysterious figure.

- About six years ago, when I came of age and started scouting the lands of the south, closer to border with Rapsengor. He stated that it was his time to go home. Zack was puzzled.

- … To go home – said the figure to himself – Thank you Zacharya. I must now take you with me, as a citizen of an allied country and an innocent guest of the Silovain woods, you must be apologized to, although regretfully there is nothing I can do to undo what has been done to your letter of honor – and I must also inform you of both the states of the war in Gohruir, our country and your own. But come along, your stomach longs for nourishment and your mind for understanding.

Zack nodded solemnly, but his puzzlement had not diminished. Yet his hunger spoke louder than anything else and his legs responded well to the call of food as he motioned to follow Merellas.

A change in course

2011-03-05T19:28:00.000-08:00

The Fishermen’s Guild, located at the unharmed side of the harbor, offered two hundred blankets to aid the already exhausted healers, who had spent the entire night gathering the wounded and tending to the casualties, as well as their families.
With the assistance of some children who refused to go to bed and insisted on helping their neighbors and friends, Terevalis and his cousins moved the blankets to the Temple of Wal-wuir, the Elven shrine dedicated to the shores and the sea, where many waited for some tending or comfort.
Aware of the children’s example, all that could stand and help did so. They could not do without the healers so there was no complaint when all healers that were available organized themselves into four groups of different turns so that as many people as possible could be taken care of.

Taking care of their neighbors was not new to Terevalis, Sylvia or Brian. There had been other raids before, but never had they been so bold or numerous. Amongst the people in the halls, the recurring subjects of conversation were how well the Triadin Forces were doing in Snullkrag or how strong were the defenses by the borders.

Terevalis was still excited about having somehow contributed to the favorable result in the conflict, but even more so about the fact that a golden dragon, Maekrix of all of them, had come all the way to Reanor to defend its people. The dragon had even spoken with him…

- It is time to turn in, cousin. –Terevalis was startled by Brian, woken from his reverie – but that certainly is a sight to behold.

Brian had caught his cousin gripping the hilt of one of the family blades while staring at the dragon that was sleeping by the harbor and gleaming under the setting moonlight. They had all fought hard and bravely, but both him and Sylvia had noticed and been surprised at how quickly Terevalis had adapted to the sword.

- Is there any task left for us to do? - asked Terevalis.

- Sylvia said that we should only stay if we were to join the nightly prayers for the wounded and the departed; but she also said that we probably need our own rest and our mothers also need to know we’re safe.

- Then we’d better be off… - stated Terevalis, fighting off a yawn. – Is Sylvia staying at the temple then? – He asked as they walked alongside the candlelit nave.

- She is no Noiram, the Priestess, but she has some healing power. She is taking her rest here and joining the morning turn with the morning healers.

- I would still see her and thank her for everything today.

- Yet she has already retired and I am afraid, cousin, that if we don’t do the same soon, I will wake up tomorrow with a backache at any step in town.

The two young men allowed themselves a little chuckle and moved out of the temple, shivering against an unexpected chill outside the Elven temple.

________________ ___________________ ___________________

Treading along the barren road of Soarmer (Soh ahr mehr), Zack finally saw the woods of Silovain on the hills below the majestic peaks of the coutry of Awengoil. The mountains rarely showed themselves clear of clouds or mist and few have any idea of what their tops look like.
The contrast between the lands to the west and the lands to the East was as abrupt as black hair and white hair. To the East, there were the desert like planes of Rapsengor, and to the West, the lush hills and mountains of Triade and the country of Awengoil.
Zack had managed to escape two blue Tramplers, wild Rapsengorians; beasts with a mind to destroy and a nomadic lifestyle that makes their groups whereabouts nearly unpredictable. He also managed to the road to make way towards Snullkrag in Gohruir.

Seeing the mysterious woods was a relief, because it represented just a little over two days of relatively safe paths until he would be able to show his Navangorian Warrior token at the Tower of Elespine, in the Tri-State border.
What he had seen on his way from the North, though, had made him wonder whether Rapsengor was as chaotic a country as it had been fabled to be.
The raided caravans of Gohruirin refugees were a revolting sight. Dismembered bodies, children dragged along the gravel to their deaths, as well as carriages burnt down with people in them had haunted Zack’s trip since Aor’s Bend. A deep sense of foreboding would creep up on him every time he would walk across one of those caravans. After having counted sixty four dead, including women and children, he realized that the situation in the South might be direr than he’d been told. To what extent were the Rapsengorians taking advantage of the weakened borders throughout, or even establishing unlikely alliances with the Marzolk, Zack would only be able to ascertain once he met with welcoming forces in the coming days.

Lady Ishingle had given him the choice between joining her personal guard in her county or taking a Warrior’s token with an Eastern Navangorian letter of honor to gain ranks and wisdom in the battles down South. He had always wanted to see the world, especially because there hadn’t been a family to tell him about it.
Zack chose what he had always chosen before – his own path.

He had learnt early that being a rogue ranger was fine in Eastern Navangor so long as the rules of the Land were upheld. Knowing this allowed him to live in Ishingle’s county without losing his sense of freedom.
Zack’s reputation as an effective border ranger grew while he defended the region from Rapsengorian warg riders in the Snowless Winter, three years prior.
Now, on the brink of coming to the lands where the “Cursed War” had been taking place for three seasons, Zack felt like his destiny might not lie in either kingdom.

When your conviction is shaken the first thing you should do, if you can, is to take a good rest and meditate. – His tutor had said.
Silovain’s outer woods could offer him some safe cover, as he did need to take care of his over trodden feet.

By the time he made he made it to the first trees, Zack looked back at the northern side of the road and spotted the Tramplers, giving thanks for their aversion to trees. He still didn’t feel safe enough and moved deeper into the forest. He knew he was in no fighting shape today.

Having left Longfang in Navangor had been painful and he, who had the wolf for his only friend now missed her company terribly. She would not survive the southern weather, so he left her at the care lady Ishingle, whom the wolf was fond of.
The harsh winds from the road seemed to have been quieted down, which allowed him to relax earlier than he thought he could. Walking a little further into the woods, in search of firewood, Zack noticed a slab of stone amidst a pile of pine cones. It seemed so different from all the green and golden around it and still it felt like it belonged nowhere else.
The seemingly rugged surface looked beautiful as no rough rock had ever looked before, drawing him near. He collected some of the pinecones into his pocket and marveled at the exotic stone.
Although it had looked rugged from a distance, Zack realized that it was covered in profusely intertwined patterns, which resembled veins and plants at the same time. As his gaze lingered upon the stone he noticed something oddly familiar. He couldn’t quite recall how or when he had learnt it, but he could read the engravings he had found.

On yum mroth, On yum aroth

Üveileth ïig am grulaum

Dern vagh yu mieer

Am Lüm.

(Open from within, open from without

Welcome me in safety

Lock this place

In peace.)

For a breath not even crickets made a sound.
Then the unmistakable heavy breath of the Tramplers sounded clearly behind him.
Zack slowly turned around as he tried to stand back up, stepping behind the slab. There they stood, ready to charge at him, with their sharp and heavy spikes protruding menacingly out of their massive shoulders. Their husks tapped the ground, making it shudder underneath Zack’s feet. For a split second he just stared in amazement at how the behemoths had managed to squeeze through the trees and even survive the allergic shock their bodies ought to be going through.
As they motioned to attack him, the very sight of them abruptly became distant and small, far out from the woods that had welcomed Zack not three moments before. Zack did not see what pulled him; he did not see the ground opening and swallowing the two Tramplers whole. He did not see anything else for his senses were shut out from him…

_________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________

Terevalis and Brian arrived to a quiet home.
The gates were sealed so they both had to climb through windows in a nearby building, in order to jump on to one of the terraces where Sylvia would grow grapevines. With a few scratches from the rough landing, the two young men made their way into the house through Brian’s open bedroom window, below the other side of Sylvia’s terrace.

Brian took his boots off and placed them outside his bedroom and bade Terevalis good night. Throwing himself on the bed he instantly became oblivious to the world around him.
Terevalis was tired as well but he hadn’t forgotten that his mother and aunt might be concerned about their whereabouts, so he decided to look for them at the dining hall, where the family would always come together. Walking down the stairs he noticed a few torches were still lighting the hallway and muffled voices could be heard from behind the main dining room door. He could discern his mother’s voice, and she sounded upset.

- I don’t even know if my son survived today’s attack, captain Meralos! How do you expect me to know when or whether he will be here to open the council’s letter?

Terevalis felt like his stomach had been punched, again. He had kept the thought of leaving Triade away because it had always sprouted much pain in his heart – as much as he longed to see other mountains and planes, his father, uncles, brother and cousins again – hearing an official Triadinma envoy at their house that late at night shook the balance out of him.
Still, he couldn’t bear to hear his mother’s distress, especially after all that had happened to their land that day. He gathered his strength and made his way inside.

- Brian and I are safe and sound at home, mother, though too many of our neighbors either died or were injured because our defenses have been lowered since we joined the Gohruirin War. – Terevalis sent a sharp gaze at the man in uniform across the room.

- You’d better bite your tongue, boy, before you’d speak ill of Triadin’s defenses.

- It was me and my kin who defended Triade today, not our army. You’d better learn some manners, sir, before coming to my house and tell me how to talk to someone who hasn’t introduced themselves to me.

Captain Meralos clenched his teeth and asked:

- Are you Terevalis Silverchyme? – Clearly he had no intention of pursuing an argument.

- If he who asks shall say who he is and what he comes for.

- As you may see, sir- the officer impatiently patted his left shoulder where his high rank insignias had been embroidered with silver and golden thread – I have come by direct orders of our Council to deliver this letter to the one Terevalis Silverchyme; not knowing the contents of this urgent letter all I know is I must take a valid reply as soon as the letter is read.

Terevalis settled down at this and, as the weight of the entire day lay heavy on his body and mind, he turned to his mother with an apologetic bow and asked:

- Mother, can we host the officer as our guest for the night? Not only have we not had an opportunity to appease your distress tonight, as both Brian and I both need much rest after today’s battle.

Annesta snapped her left hand fingers and the echo travelled through the walls of the house. Soon after and drowsy yet ready maiden knocked on the door and motioned towards her mistress. Annesta whispered in her ears and turned towards Terevalis, approaching him holding his hands, reassuring herself that he was indeed there with her.

- What of Sylvia? – Aunt Mag’s anxious voice sounded from behind a large fireplace seat, across the room.

- Dear aunt, Sylvia is fine, but she chose to take her rest at the temple of Wal-wuir, so she can aid our neighbors with her healing skills. – Aunt Mag shed quiet tears of relief and sent quiet thanks with a smile toward her nephew.

- Sir, you must read this letter as soon as possible. – The captain insisted.

- And I will. – Terevalis gestured for the letter, which captain Meralos handed out to him. - Tomorrow.

While the officer sighed with exasperation, he took a moment to look at the official wax seal on it. The emblem was the same as Triade’s flag; an elf woman standing on the left and a human child standing on the right, both under the protective wings of a dragon. He then looked back at the captain with a more congenial attitude.

- Thank you for your troubles, sir, I bid you a good night and pray for a good rest. May the morning bring us renewed strength to our limbs and freshness of spirit…

They both bowed politely at each other and Terevalis made for his bedroom after kissing his mother’s forehead and giving his aunt a gentle rub on her shoulders.

- … We’ll all need it tomorrow.

_________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________

Shoulders, elbows and wrists aching behind his back, while his feet dragged below, Zack came to amidst the footsteps of many.

- He’s awake. – A female voice said.

The march halted, he was pushed and tied to the base of a large tree and his head was uncovered while several rangers menacingly stood around him. Their garments were quite different from the ones he knew in the North, but he could clearly tell by their weapons and poise that they were rangers and not any other kind of folk. The woods were thick there, yet there was a pervading light which allowed him to see these people without hurting his eyes.

- How have you come into these lands? – asked another ranger, ready to strike Zack with brass-knuckles.

- I came by foot; I am ranger from Navangor, on my way to Gohruir.

- You are far from either. How do we know you’re not a spy? – asked the first ranger, putting her dagger’s blade by his jugular.

- If you would reach for my back pouch you would find a letter of honor from East Navangor and my Warrior’s token.

A third ranger approached the tree and reached for the pouch Zack had mentioned. He then took it to the male ranger who seemed to be the leader. He ripped the royal seal at which Zack’s heart sank, and read the letter.
After a moment, he looked back at Zack with a raised brow and put the scroll back in the pouch.

- It will be a long while until you will be able to go to Gohruir lands, Zacharya, and for the time being you will be our guest here, until we can ascertain what can be done with you.

Zack lowered is head, feeling like his choices had been removed, his freedom terminated and his will made absolutely irrelevant.

The rangers set up camp around the tree, with several bonfires around the large tree where he’d been tied to. A few of them were sent out to scout the area and others were sent out on some sort of mission.
Being drained of strength and resistance Zack fell into an unstable sleep, filled with nightmares populated with monsters, chases and cages…

Initial map - Rogar's Table Map

2011-03-03T17:54:00.001-08:00

face tests

2011-03-01T15:24:00.001-08:00

Rogar's Assignment

2011-02-17T18:11:00.000-08:00

Rogar peered out from the balcony, over Moillur and into the market place where hundreds were bustling to get their goods as early as possible. The livestock bells had their sound carried
by the wind which made the pine trees below dance and rustle against each other.

After a long night of studying the morning breeze was a welcome blessing. It was almost as if Triadinma was as it had always been before; full of life, excitement and heroes of all kind coming and going with news and tales of other lands.
His master Neilkot had demanded the completion of his assignment before dawn and now Rogar awaited the return of his mentor with judgment over his studies. Rogar had been asked to stand ready shortly after sunrise and to wait for his evaluation in the study chamber of his dorm. This small library as more of a home to him and he would often find himself more comfortable amongst books, owls and pixies than with regular folk.

- The dreams you hadn’t the time to enjoy, have they come now to haunt you? – asked Neilkot with a ring of laughter in his voice, startling young Rogar out of his boots.

- Master… - Rogar bowed after composing himself.

- Hush, child, sleep still rules over your thoughts now, so it’s wiser to hold your words unspoken, while we have your assignment to review and report. –Neilkot motioned Rogar towards a large map table, where one could see the Triadin country and its surrounding four kingdoms.

Rogar sat beside his mentor with a shred of concern toiling his stomach – “Would Neilkot accept his study or condemn it?”

I see you’ve developed three possible solutions to the problem I had given you, when I had asked you for one alone. It pleases me to see you are gaining some confidence and that you’re also honing your imagination as well as your resourcefulness. Look here…

For a while Neilkot showed his apprentice how, with some small adjustments, or even seemingly insignificant inflexions, could a spell be enhanced, become different, inverted or even dangerously distorted.
So instead of feeling burdened with the weight of a humiliating evaluation, Rogar felt humbled and grateful for the kindness, generosity and even excitement with which Neilkot had been mentoring him. They followed on for another hour, or maybe two, with several warnings by Neilkot, some questions by Rogar, but indeed dozens of notes being taken along the way.
When at last the assignment had been revised and all the one hundred and thirty four variations of the spell reviewed, Neilkot stood up and brought up a scroll with a separate scroll box.

- Now you must lock this scroll in this box.

Rogar stood up as well and, while wiping his hands on his sleeves he looked up at his mentor and asked:

- What sort of lock should I cast?

- The kind that you and only you can unlock. If you pass this test I shall grant you full remarks over your assignment.

Placing the rolled scroll inside its wooden box and making sure all pieces that closed it were in their place, Rogar held the object horizontally with both hands – each at an end.
He knew now was not a moment to allow insecurity our doubt to cloud his mind. Closing his eyes he focused and with swift deep inhalation he decided how to cast the spell.

Revolving winds will not bend you

Ominous waters shan’t drown you

Gates of will enclose you

Although hammers try to break you

Raging fires won’t burn you.

While Rogar chanted his words, at each verse he turned the box towards the sky and the four winds.
His face was blushed and his voice embedded with an authority he hadn’t realized he possessed.
Neilkot smiled at him once the spell was completed.

- Now for the final and crucial step of this test, I shall break your spell. If I succeed you will not and I won’t allow you to learn more until you’ve mastered this level of our arts…

Rogar became very nervous, and he was intimidated both by the impressive power he knew his master wielded as well as by the prospect of not being able to further his studies beyond his current level for at least another season.

- … I must use a very strong spell, Rogar, and as you know, if I succeed in breaking your lock, you too will suffer from the break.

The blood in Rogar’s veins froze as he remembered that simple law.

Arn mroth, vagh hisash

Mehg yuvagh

Ardoth ashiss!

Arn mroth, vagh hisash

Mehg yuvagh

Ardoth ashiss!

Arn mroth, vagh hisash

Mehg yuvagh

Ardoth ashiss!

(Break from within, lock that was made

Cancel this lock

Broken, unmade!)

The library had become dark as midnight and cold as winter, as Neilkot’s voice resounded like thunder, echoing through the walls and, painfully, in Rogar’s chest.
He felt like the strength in his legs was leaving him as the pain in his chest punctured deeper.
Tears flowed from his eyes as he covered his ears in the dread of his seemingly bursting head.
But as suddenly as it had come, the overwhelming pain and atmosphere vanished as the locked box floated unharmed in an orb of bronze light.

Neilkot’s body had been thrown against the door and his disheveled hair covered his face, hiding whether the mentor was awake or not. Rogar had no sign of pain within so he rushed toward Neilkot worrying he might not be all right. The box remained ignored, aloft and contained in the metallic glow in which it had been locked. Rogar promptly kneeled by the master of the tower, his mentor, and grabbed his hand, rubbing it with concern for Neilkot’s life.
Neilkot’s hearty laughter assured Rogar once again, as he accepted the pupil’s assistance to stand again.

- You have made me proud, Rogar, your spell has been well cast and your lock could only be broken by others of my schooling, and only if they took hold of the box outside the protective boundaries of Triadin.

He walked up to the box and beckoned Rogar to take it.

- Indeed, only you can unlock it, so I hope you’re ready to do so when the time comes.

Rogar was uncertain as to what had just taken place, and took the box with an inquisitive gaze upon his master.

- Master, does this mean I can now pursue on to new studies?

- Yes it does, young pupil, though what lessons lay before you at this stage you do not yet expect. Come hither and let us study our map together, once again. Please name the kingdoms surrounding our country.

As it had been memorized after many nights of studying the geography of their land, Rogar began.

- To the North we find Navangor, the snowy kingdom where the bison lives, where women hold the ruling crown and men defend the borders. They are friends with the Triadin and have joined forces with our people in order to defend Gohruir, the kingdom in the South, against the vile invasion from Marzolk. Gohruir is a country of traders and scholars, who trust in the hired ally strength of our people and the Navangorians to repel the frequent border abuses from their neighbors –the Rapsengorians – and to resist against the heavy Marzolkin menace. In the midst of Triade, Navangor and Rapsengor there is the inscrutable kingdom of Awengoil, a land of mystery to most but a nestling home to our guardian brothers, the Elves. Rapsengor lays yonder East, a land of many deserts and increasingly dangerous liaisons with some of the Marzolkin lords. While keeping a somewhat respectful distance from Awengoil, Triade and Navangor, they often try to break their borders into Gohruir, the frail ally of our peoples. The few not so scholarly lands of Gohruir who try to make a stand against Rapsengor often require the support of Triadin arms and expertise.

- All right – said Neilkot, with his usual exercise drilling tone – now why does our Mythal need even more surveillance than before?

- Because many of those who created and helped maintain it have gone south of Vangoth, our southern border, to the Gohruirin planes of Snulkrag to fight off the Marzolk threat; which leaves our borders now on alert and the power of our Mythal diminished against some invaders.

- Now Rogar, there has been an unsuccessful but massive attack on our coastal town of Reanor. –stated Neilkot gravely.

- But that is where our sacred golden g... –Neilkot raised a hand, stopping Rogar.

- Unexpected as it was, they didn’t make it to our vaults, but Reanor has lost many people and even more were left injured. Reanor’s halrs are doing the best they can but if they don’t get help soon, there will be more losses and grief to account and suffer. In an attempt to appease them in their ordeal, I have written a formal request to the Order of the Heart, so that they can send envoys to aid in this hard moment.

- But master, you know the Order is mostly out of Triade and the few left are on fixed tour cycles in the country.

- That is why I shall send you to the head of the order while they are stationed in Keylarmir.

Rogar dropped his jaw as if the walls around him had suddenly disappeared.

- How… how… how am I supposed to reach Keylarmir?

- If you pay heed to my advice and follow your guide respectfully, you should be able to reach Keylarmir within two days.

- But sir, Keylarmir is five days away!

- And you’ll crash your bottom on Moillur hill in ten seconds if you don’t quit pestering me! – retorted Neilkot harshly; Rogar lowered his head.

- I have sent two boxes with different healing potions to Reanor, so that they have some initial help until you get to Keylarmir. Once there you must find the head of the Order and deliver the letter immediately. But let me give you my advice then; the box and scroll you have just locked contain the letter I have mentioned. Let no one know you carry it. You should take the Tome of Elleandril, since many of the spells you can already cast are well saved in there. As for your mission, only one person knows why you’ll come to Keylarmir and that’s the one you should unlock the box to.

- How about my guide, master?

- Ah, I shall introduce you shortly. Let us have our breakfast so you can prepare to leave after lunch.

Neilkot noticed the agony Rogar was in. The boy was now too accustomed to the laboratories and libraries in the tower. He had found refuge there with Neilkot and was eager to learn, but all to weary of venturing out into the world as any mage to be should. As much as Neilkot enjoyed the apprenticeship he would, in fact, be doing the boy a disservice if he were not to send him out.

- Oh spare yourself the sulking, Rogar, it’s not like I am sending you to the battling planes in the South. You’re within our lands, where there isn’t much for you to fear, if you follow your guide.

Neilkot patted his pupil’s shoulder reassuringly, while the younger mumbled a short complaint as both walked down to the kitchen…

Attack on Reanor

2011-02-08T16:53:00.000-08:00

Maekrix lay sleepily near the harbor as the sun began to set.
For many of the villagers it was sight to behold, regardless of how many generations had lived in peace with these giants.

People were still busy trying to fix their roofs, doors or tending to the wounded, and it was painful for everyone to realize there had been many a casualty among their countrymen.

The pirates had come before dawn and had somehow avoided the watch and swiftly started moving up towards the manors.
The cats and dogs began noticing the strangers and soon people woke up and were startled to find the animals had been right about their alarm.
The surprise attack was momentarily rebuked, but the pirates were resourceful, numerous and strong, which lead the villagers to gather and make stands wherever they could. Helpless women and children had fled towards the top hills, in order to call for aid from the neighbor lands above.

Bells started being rung all over the village as some of the more able hands got ready to join the fight. Terevalis joined the fray while asking his mother to move his family uphill.
Being from the Order of the Core, she refused and ordered him to do his sworn duty as she would do hers.
Terevalis defended his family's gates along with his two older cousins, Sylvia and Brian.
Behind the gates his mother, Annesta, began chanting and the wind twirled around her as if by her command.
Along the walls the Ancient tongue started resonating, while outside many a painful cry rose and fell.

The whole village and the pirates fell silent and stared into the air as the Ancient words filled every space.
Terevalis noticed this and urged his fellows: Take them down!!
The villagers nearby roared with the new enthusiasm and the pirates were driven back for a while.
Yet there were too many of them, and Terevalis thought their attack had been too well calculated for them to withstand it for long. He feared a massacre.
Brian shouted: This is a diversion!, They're trying to get to the Order's Vaults!Let's move to the Harbor Square!
He kept on loosening his bows at any pirate that came too close to their walls while Sylvia, and experienced swords-woman disappeared into the house.

The fray got thicker around Terevalis, but he kept fierce despite the many villagers falling not too far.
By then the top hill alarm bells were being gonged and a strong sound merged with the Ancient summoning Annesta was trying to perform. Around her, the women of her house stood hand in hand, chanting a protection spell so that the summoning would go uninterrupted.

After a few minutes, Terevalis had no more foes to fence, and around him lay a pile of ill smelling bodies. He had some cuts and bruises of his own, to which Brian tended, after jumping from the wall. The water felt refreshing both on the cuts and down his throat, but they soon sprung up again as they heard a commotion approaching from the street above.

Enraged villagers were now running towards them, and they were about to join them had Sylvia not called them back into their gate.
" Terevalis, this has been waiting for your hands to wield it. We had hoped war would not come to us this far in our country, but these pillagers are proving too heavy a toll on our people. I have my own heritage to fight with alongside you, but it is your time now to wield the blade you have inherited from our forefathers, so that we can help our people as best as we can."
- Well, if it is our people we must help, then we should get to it instead of standing here and talking to each other!
Sylvia then uncloaked the blade and the glimmer in it struck Terevalis as if he had seen an enormous lightning cross the skies. He slowly took grabbed the hilt and his hand fit it perfectly.It had a good weight and the runes where in the foreign tongue his grandfather had taught him long years before. he read the lower symbols out loud and the sword's color changed from dark gray and silver to a vibrant purple and gold.
Up from the wall, Brian shouted, "To me my kin! Here comes another wave of sea trash!"
Sylvia and Terevalis looked each other in the brow and Terevalis left his other sword behind, laying by the steps at his clan's gate.

The three ran down the street to meet their fellow villagers in the fray, and there they kept their ground for a long while until the sun was way beyond its zenith.

It was when the pirates' colossal black ship approached the harbor that the people started loosing their grip and stamina. The worst was that the ship was no ship at all but a very old black dragon instead; it came to life and started shooting black poison on to the people on the streets. All that Terevalis and his fellows could do then was to take cover wherever they could, as pirates, fishermen and villagers were being burnt alive and alike.

"Such madness is not of pirate hands alone." Said Sylvia as she gasped after sneaking a tall and pale pirate. When the black dragon finally came to land and started knocking houses and peers down a immense shadow that was made of sunlight covered and crossed the sky.

At first Teravalis couldn't make it out, as shiny as it was, but soon his own sword was vibrating and giving him more strength to fight. A Guardian dragon had come to rescue Reneor, the northern fishing village.
The two giants fought fiercely in a ball of black and gold, where the sound of their jaws snapping, their tails whipping and their wings slashing the air was like listening to a thunderstorm and stone slides.

Terevalis felt with each blow of his sword that he was gaining speed and strength, stamina and agility. Fighting was becoming comfortable in a way it had not been with the other sword, which gave him the confidence to move forward and try to fence the remaining pirates on to the harbor.

Sylvia understood his intent, and tired as she was she followed him, while Brian kept on covering their backs with the second quiver he had brought from the gates of their house.

At last, the mighty golden dragon ripped the head out of the black dragons massive shoulders and the pirates lost all spirit to fight. It then turned his menacing golden head, roaring at the pirates at the main square by the harbor and all the fighting was considered finished.

The guards and villagers that had been defending their ground started cuffing the pirates while some of the children that remained in the village started tending to the wounded.

Terevalis bowed in thanks to the helping dragon who brought his big muzzle close to him and Sylvia and smelled them for a while.
In a low purr that also sounded like a roar the dragon whispered in human tongue: "You have proven your valor to your people here today, go tend to them and we shall see each other again tomorrow."

Terevalis took his cousins back to the streets in search of wounded or needy folk while the dragon slept quietly as the night crept in...

It's time

2010-07-22T06:42:00.000-07:00

It's time to leave my comfort zone.
It's time to leave the computer and change my habits in my own study.
It's to change in me what I want to see changed in my life and it's time for my will to be more than just a symbol on an intense hike up a Japanese mountain...
It's time to stick to the program, when all the program says is "be true to your heart".
It's time to give a NO when I say no.
It's time ...

It's time to catch up to the life I've been wanting to live but haven't on account of "getting there - but not yet". It's time to arrive at myself ad be content with who I am where I am and How I am.
It's I don't really care if you care or not... It's for me to care about me as much as i care about anyone else, and it's I love myself for real.

It's time to take MY time into my hands and shape up the sculpture of my existence.

It's time to answer the questions:

"Do I want to communicate excintingly through visual arts?" not with a vigorous YES but with a vigorous IMAGE.
"Do I want to feel free and agile within this body?" not with an eager YES but with the commitment and self respect that premiss requires.
"Do I want to go beyond beginner level at anything other than English?" not with a resolute YES but with the will power and every single step necessary to achieve that which will bring me personal growth, technical improvement and above all else... inner peace...

It's time to shun away all the doubts and echoes of voices that have always told me "you're not good enough; only a few manage to; the « industry» is overloaded, and so on" and get a move on with whatever I have been waiting all these years to turn my life into.

It's time I make myself, my mother, my family, my loved ones and my friends proud; not so they hold me in high value, but because anything else is just not dignified enough- it's time to loose all pride and regain the treasure that by serving others with the diligence of my heart, I will not only discover myself again as I will shed the weights and shadows that have kept me from truly knowing, truly being and freely existing...

It's time I stop this wholesome ranting...

Love,
Ricardo

Article from a friend

2010-05-31T11:16:00.000-07:00

This article is unmissable. Whether one agrees entirely or not is not as relevant as this article is Thought provoking to say the least.
Having enjoyed both 3d and 2d renditions of the movie AVATAR, there is much more to say about the movie than I have read and seen in most reviews out in the media.
This article approaches the movie, as far as I'm concerned in the very perspective the movie needed to be scoped.
Enjoy...

http://mindunclouded.blogspot.com/2010/05/inverted-spirituality-of-avatar.html

Freedom of speech versus respect and peace

2010-05-23T15:01:00.000-07:00

After reading this great but sad journal I had to post a comment and I am reposting both the journal and my comment.
I hope to see your comments and thoughts on this matter.

http://butch007.deviantart.com/journal/32380510/#comments

Comment:

It is time for those who live by love, peace and true tolerance to step up and SET THE EXAMPLE. Without that words becoming empty casks, without faithfulness to his/her own tradition, regardless which, there can be no true religion.

I know very little about Islam but I know that Sufi wisdom is probably NOT about war but compassion and balance. I'm sure that those who TRULY follow Jesus remember the words "treat thy neighbour as thy self" and therefore despise "God blessed" wars...

I'm sure that Hindus and Bhuddists all over the world are a lt more interested and busy with deeper issues than those of the petty "My guns are stronger than yours and let me prove it to you through diplomacy or suffer under our wrath" kind of threat.

I am not saying there aren't extremists. They're real and many innocent have been taken from us on account of extremist actions. But remember if any given US American citizen is fairly ignorant of what has really been going on the middle east, so might be any given Afghani citizen who's failry ignorant of what the US want with his/her country... to set this as an example...

all of this and more requires from those who do uphold peace over apparent safety to stand united and set the example and make themselves be listened by their own means: be it Art, Literature, Politics, etc.

I dare all peace embracing bloggers who read this journal and these comments to do their best now, for never before have our efforts been more necessary...

hugs to all

Engelsain Tales 22

2007-12-19T05:49:00.000-08:00

Allowing his mount to circle freely for a while gave Jordan time to reflect on his return home. This perspective also gave him the chance to see the Mior Mountains as he had never seen.

Watching them from above made him love his homeland even more, but there was a certain fear in him. That’s what he couldn’t understand since Lord Aujir told him he should go home for a brief time.

He now knew what his assignment was, which was a reassuring; but he felt not all had been said and that maybe there was unpleasant news waiting for him at home.
The stir in his stomach returned and his discipline helped him breathe and regain control over his emotions.

Below he could spot the outpost where any traveller could use to make entry into the Mior cities territory. He could see a carriage approaching. He smiled at the thought of the endurance land merchants need to travel to Mior and back anywhere.

About a mile and a half from the foot of the mountains, the merchant was probably eager to reach the outpost, so that the animal could have some water and the way down to the cities would become easier.

Jordan leant forward and his giant eagle plunged diagonally towards the outpost. Feeling the wind rushing strongly through the mounts feathers always thrilled him, and Jordan was looking forward mounting one of the young drakes back at the academy.
Still, RedSting the nickname of this war eagle, was a great companion and helped save Jordan’s life at Inkmaar.

And the land was coming closer, so fast, Jordan had his best times then, flying freely and fearlessly. All the details becoming blurs of speed; as the land approached.
RedSting’s wings shifted and they softly landed behind the outpost.

Jordan decided to wait there for the merchant and maybe escort him into the city.

RedSting flew off into hunting, she would return at nightfall, after enjoying her meals and her spare time.

Jordan opened his waterskin and smiled at the thought of his admiration for Lord Aujir’s wisdom.

The way all the creatures had been trained to be effective and still having a time when they could just be the creatures they were struck Jordan as a lesson he was still yet to fully understand, but he felt it made sense somehow and he smiled as he drank and waited to welcome the merchant’s carriage to the outpost.

Johnathan was usually very scared of wandering around unknown places. He had even been very afraid of Arphork’s animals. But one of them seemed to like his company and even guarded him at times. Johnathan felt less bad having such a warm big dog to rely on, especially during the day, when the others would sleep.
Still, the daytime was his favourite time. Then he wouldn’t have to feel the pain in his stomach, and all the fear he had for Dryan, Arphork and even the sad eyed lady, Margaret.

She was a strange person like the men, but there was something different in her. He thought that she had something in common with him but couldn’t define what.

And now the big dog tugged him away from the village they had stopped at.

Johanthan was already used to the pushes of Moonfang, as Arphork had called him.

And so they went to a hill away from the seemingly deserted village, to watch the sun go down and the fears come back…

Rafanael could clearly see that Toren felt relief in arriving at the outpost at the end of the road up the mountain.

Toren had said the road went only half the way up and that after reaching the outpost a fire should be lit up, during the night so that a guide from the city could come and welcome the visitors as well as check for their intentions in the area.

Rafanael had unexpectedly fallen asleep again during the trip towards the mountain, and the dream had come as strongly as before, but the voice hadn’t come and all he could see was the boy holding on to the winged horse as it landed in front of some kind of arena.

He had shaken the dream away, but the subject was too insistent.
Adding up to his own disturbance he could now see there was a young man waving at them from the base of the outpost. He was wearing some sort of military uniform, and Rafanael tensed up for unwanted confrontations with any authority. He flexed a part of his jaw and brow, hunched a part of his back and in no time he was no longer Rafanael or even Rov. He was old Rover, the hunch back that carries the arc of a family from the east as a gift to a cleric in the west.

He whispered to Toren not to be startled by the change in him, and the man looked at him with a certain fear noticing the change in his voice already.
He also said Toren should do the talking and not really mention Rover’s business, except he came from the East for a delivery.

Jordan was glad to welcome the travellers but as they really approached and halted, he could see they were both weary, and there was something odd about them.

He was still smiling and he remembered he had once, as a kid, wanted to serve as a guide to incoming merchants, so he could see what the other side of the mountains looked like.

“Welcome to the Outpost of East-Mior! I must inquire as to your purpose and how long you intend to stay in our city.”

The driver hesitated a bit before talking, as if trying to remember a message he should say exactly as he had been told.

“I am Toren the merchant, sir, and we travel from the East to make a delivery. I do not believe we are to take long in the city, sir, just the time to recover some strength and get on back to our own homes, sir.”

“I am to escort you into the outpost, good people, but I am unauthorized to take you into the city just yet. Please follow.” Jordan was proud of somehow serving his city; he also remembered he was not officially appointed for the task and that there was a specific order in which guards and guides came to the outpost. He had already started the fire, and hit the bell of the tunnel, so the guide would arrive sooner than at dusk.
Jordan offered some water from the nearby spring and mugs were put on the table so they could sit and wait.

Only Toren came to the table, and the other man remained in the carriage.

“Rover has some backache, he prefers to lie down quietly for a while if it’s OK, sir. It’s been a long ride, sir, and none of us is as fit as a soldier like you, sir.”
“Have some water, good sir, and rest your peace. Soon you both will have a comfortable bed to recover your strength.”

Jordan climbed to the watch and sat there. His stomach was tensed again and taking some moments to scope the landscape would help him ease the feeling in his gut.

It had been long since he had felt so disturbed, especially without knowing exactly what it was that disturbed him.

Northeast from the outpost he could see RedSting circling again, in the distance. He had learned how to distinguish giant eagles from common eagles in the distance, by watching carefully the rhythm of their wings, and the distraction would help him relax a bit, while the sun made its descent to the back of the mountain.

Now it was but a matter of time until the guide would be with them. All he had to do was focus
on the tasks ahead and the love for his family…

Three vampires and a kid?

2007-12-07T06:06:00.000-08:00

Can anyone imagine what these four will bring to the Lands of Engelsain?
Twists, turns... and so much more.
Hope you like this.

Engelsain Tales - chapter 21

2007-11-08T13:16:00.000-08:00

Night had fallen.
The lake and its surroundings were quiet. As quiet as he had become.
Lying beside him, his backpack supported his harp, conveniently covered by its protective bag.
Bacca had too strong emotions still boiling inside, and this solitude unexpectedly relieved him a bit.
Even though he had long yearned for and feared to meet with elves and to mingle with them, what had just taken place had been far too powerful. It had awoken distant memories, grief, achievements both small and big; and now this turmoil that had bothered him since he came to know of the truth about his mother’s departure would have to be settled.
All the bitterness with his father had to be solved.
Yet now, despite all else; Bacca enjoyed the quietness.
As if the entire world behind had disappeared. In fact, it was as if beyond the lake and the trees there was nothing but the deep night sky.
The faint light from the stars reflected softly on the water and there was the slightest whisper of a note. It was beautifully simple, continuous and taking. Bacca quickly understood that closing his eyes to listen better would not work; the subtle sound was everywhere, the note resounded in his chest, so Bacca decided to ease his breath and remain open.
A part of him was excited that the sound had become clearer, but he persisted on easing his breath and remaining open.
He realized it was a voice that sounded like three; it would be children or women but it was not. It was deeper yet acute.
No, a part of his mind argued; there was another layer of resonance, and that was the deep one.
Somehow the light over the lake became brighter, or was his vision simply adjusting at a great rate to the relative darkness, Bacca wondered.
He didn’t linger on it though, for the light and the sound were becoming all the more intense.
The sound was vibrating into his bones and through his skin. It was as if every pore and muscle was being open and shaken.
Then the voice that had sounded like three multiplied into all possible levels of tone.
Bacca had never heard such moving harmonics; he felt his eyes were once again shedding tears and that was when he realized the new degree of light.
All of him was being crossed by that golden white light, and there was an irrepressible feeling of release.
He was so full of the light and the sound, the sound was music and beyond music; and when the scent of the pine trees started to gather around him, Bacca felt himself tearing open even more.
Driven by the multiple voice and the rejoicing light, he felt his body lifting and spreading.
The sound and the light wound wave delightfully like fire, but not burning; instead purifying and washing all within…
All was full of light.
All was full of love.
All was full of joy.
He exploded and saw all of the land from above.
All the eyes were his to look into and he saw all, and felt the love for all.
A pair stayed longer. They looked like his but wiser and deeper.
A strong wind joined under the light and its sound.
The eyes were fixing his intently and then all of the sudden; Bacca was elsewhere facing the most beautiful vision of a female he had ever laid eyes on. The eyes were hers, then.
Everything went dark and silent.
Bacca fell unconscious on Gronmerthill’s drakeport.

Engelsain Tales - chapter 20

2007-10-17T13:56:00.000-07:00

On the edge of the lake, horse hooves slowly paced the shore.

The last light of dusk was leaving. The clouds and trees that had been bathed in the sun’s warm colours seemed like, somehow, were turning in for the night.

The trees whispered as they cuddled into themselves, and the horses ears stood up as if the whisper was meant for them. The clouds embraced each other away as they bade the day farewell.

Nophar noticed the subtle change on the surface of the water and on her horse. She looked at her brother and Bacca, giving them a hand sign to settle down.

She got down from her horse and looked for a certain tree, with roots both in the water and into the Earth.

Bacca’s already acute sense of hearing had developed amazingly in the days since they left Muirlen. Nophar and Nethur had promised to try to help him with his “current condition” and offered to guide him through the mountains and forest to the base of Gronmerthill Table Mountain. If that strange little one hadn’t cursed him by sealing his mouth and shutting his songs away, Bacca would have considered this new level of sensitivity a blessing.

He watched Nophar curiously while she searched for something on the floor; but when she put a thin golden rope around the base of an oak at the shore, he felt the air stir and heard the voices of the forest creatures become silent.

Nophar was kneeling as if she were praying, and when she finally stood up and held her Nethur’s hand, Bacca detected deer hooves gently padding the ground on the other side of the lake.

The hooves were soft but there was an overwhelming wave that pressed his heart each time the deer stepped.

It was the same kind of deep emotion he had felt in his musical trances – but this one was far stronger.

By the deer arrived by the three, Bacca was already so riveted he found himself knelt and facing the ground, his heart bursting uncontrollably. Everything around was made of music, and the closest pulse, the one ahead of him, could only be described as light.

He would later on recall it as silent joy.

A firm hand barely pressed his shoulder and Bacca realized he had been shedding tears. He still couldn’t face the source of this emotion but stood up, feeling humble and grateful at the same time.

The hand left and he grew calm and steady. He could see the horses beside him, but it was the surface of the lake that inevitably attracted him now.

He needed his solitude more than ever.

It was time to face his sorrows, his grief and his past. Only by himself could he mange that.

“Welcome, my children.” Saymi stated, and opened her arms.

Both Nophar and Nethur hesitated, not knowing exactly what to do or how to behave. They couldn’t speak either. They only hung to each other’s hand.

“After all this time, doesn’t a mother deserve a hug from her children?” - Her eyes were filled with tears. Despite everything, her children always turned Saymi into a more outspoken person. She couldn’t stand another moment without embracing them.

Before she broke down, both of them were holding her and all felt the relief of their love.

Of the two siblings, Nethur was the most sensitive to his mother’s shifts of mood or stance. Tonight was no exception. The slightest contraction echoed through their embrace and Nethur stepped away and whispered, while Saymi comforted Nophar still:
“Though we have missed you, Mother, we wouldn’t have disturbed the peace of your home for no light reason. We apologise for the unannounced visit, but the matter is somewhat serious.”

Nethur’s practicality had always surprised Saymi and, at rare occasions, hurt Nophar; but tonight all knew he was in no cold mood.

He was simply right.

Saymi gently left her daughter’s arms and assumed a more formal posture.

“From your friend’s scent I can perfectly tell Hourin has been up to his…pranks. Your friend has now been sent to a battle of his own and his alone. Whether he is released from Hourin’s spell or not depends entirely of the outcome of his inner battle.

As for Hourin himself, you both know how unwise it is to demand an explanation or an exception from him. I would not advise you to do so, and I have only recently returned from the Kingdom. I need my quarantine to establish my bond with him again. Therefore I wouldn’t be able to do it for you.”
Nophar was able to hold herself together again and replied quite seriously:
“Hourin used these circumstances to summon us here.”
“Summon you?” Saymi was perplexed. “Where were you summoned by him? Not…”

“Yes, Mother, Hourin got into Muirlen. He has found a way inside of our magic defences.”
Saymi felt her bowels pressed by an alarm. Hourin was a being beyond the common magic level, but the sacred relics that protect all elves and some humans are almost unsurpassable. For an elven location to be visited by such an uninvited deity, it could only mean that the Gate Icon of Muirlen had been removed.

“You must get to the queen immediately, children, and report all that has happened, including our meeting.”
This last statement was a clear command and the urgency of Saymi’s tone made the sibling look at each other in reluctance.

“Mother, we haven’t been to Gronmerthil in…”
“You will go, sent by me and the queen will receive you promptly.” Her commanding voice seemed louder than it had actually been.

Saymi eased a sigh and her gaze became tender once more.

“Do you forget you were sent by the queen herself to stand in Muirlen as hosts of our kind? Do you forget you serve our race as does she? I cannot tell you why, but our good queen herself may be in danger should you not this task to an end. As in all in nature, so has our meeting come to be.”
With her typical sentence to call upon silence, Saymi kissed both her children on their forehead, blessing them.

Nethur smiled, inwardly thankful to be sent back to the great city, even if for a short time. He knew, though, his sister wouldn’t feel as comfortable as he would, for she had inherited mother’s shyness to big crowds.

He decided to lay camp where they were and soon they were enjoying their ration around a welcoming bonfire…

Engelsain Tales - 19th chapter

2007-10-15T12:11:00.000-07:00

An eagle rushed her hunt because the wind changed.

No matter what size, any fish would have to do.

Her eyes sharpened and at the first glimpse of a prey, she plunged in.

In the horizon, under the heavy cover of dark clouds, a lightning shone.

With a trout in her claws, the eagle flew west, towards the mountain top, struggling to take her meal home, in spite of the wind and heavy rain thrown down at her.

Her wings vigorously pushed the air underneath as she couldn’t afford to stop before the nest.

The thunder echoed sombrely, dimming away in the distance.

Focusing on getting home, she ignored the valley below and the temptation of a protecting tree. She knew better than to land on a tree under such weather. She also ignored the travellers on the road by the river.

A humble carriage was pulled by a discouraged mule. Its cover was darkened by the rain, but the driver wouldn’t stop pushing the mule.

Blinding light and a deafening roar burst behind the carriage and the animal hasted into an almost incontrollable race. The passenger had to help the driver hold the reins, because it had all happened too fast for a quick enough reaction.

After a while the mule got used to the sound of thunders and was absently trotting again.

Toren, the driver, spoke. “There is no way this weather is going to calm down anytime soon. We’ll have to make a stop a mile up ahead.”

The passenger just nodded and tried to find some comfort in his soaked cape.

All along the journey this fellow whose name was Rov, as far as Toren could tell, had wore that hood. He was a nice enough young man, although easily distracted, often wandering into his own thoughts or memories. Whenever they crossed an area with people he would pull up his scarf and cover his face, leaving the hood on to cover the upper part.

He said it was for safety. Toren’s safety, mostly.

Good enough, Toren thought under the pressing rain, because the amount of gold he had already been paid would allow him to drive twice as far as the Northern mountain gates and back without needing to see his face.

It still was a mystery though.

Immerse in thoughts of abundance of food for his family in the winter months, Toren started to make a turn to left, away from the road.

Rov looked at him inquisitively but Toren reassured him:

“There is a cave a little south from here. We can try to dry up there and rest until the storm subsides.”
After not too long, they arrived at the place and quietly settled in.

As in the previous stops, Toren and Rov carried the arc to the place where Rov would sleep. No questions asked – more than enough gold for that.

After that, Toren started the fire and they hung up the clothes they could try to dry.

The storm echoed sombrely outside, while Toren fetched them each a blanket, noticing that even the mule seemed to be relieved to be inside. He sat across Rov and Rov handed him bread and ale.

A tasty loaf went down Rov’s throat and then he asked:

“So, you do know these parts well. How long do you think it will take us to get to Mior now?”

Toren pondered while he chewed on the bread and when he found enough space in his mouth he uttered:

“Around one full day under good weather, two or three days if he storm calms down, and five or six if it doesn’t.” As Rov’s brows rose, Toren continued and gave him back the bottle of ale – “The last road that goes down to Mior gets very easily slippery, especially under such heavy rain…”
Rov’s eyes became vague as he was clearly driven into his own thoughts. Toren understood the cue and turned into the blanket, bidding his passenger goodnight.

Rov nodded and hummed, quickly resuming his stream of thought…

Rafanael had fallen asleep unexpectedly, cuddling as an innocent boy would to the blanket on him.

In the next morning he woke up refreshed, a feeling not enjoyed in many years. The clear memory of a dream insisted on coming back and back again.

An ill woman and a boy were taking a hot bath in the same room and they spoke tenderly to each other, often begging forgiveness to each other. When they were clean and dry, the woman took care of a bleeding wound in the boy’s bottom – they must have been son and mother – and an eternity of apologies, wishful thinking and hugs, the boy got dressed with thick clothes and a snow jacket and took a bag and a staff and walked out into the snowy night. The woman made a prayer and one could see the light of the blessing softly shinning down on her and an equal glow falling like snow onto the boy.

Rafanael could see the boy sadly walking away from a village and into a wide path in the nearby forest. The boy resembled many of the people in the area of his homeland but that did not matter at all now. The boy walked and talked to himself, repeating his mother’s prayer over and over again. Rafanael could see the boy from above as if he were softly flying. And then suddenly a bright white light shone beside him and a beautiful, deep and calm voice came from the light:
“Our gathering will soon take place, I will retrieve Nev from the snow and in time your paths shall cross, as his is the icon you now carry. Be in peace, until soon.”
Then out of the light a blue winged horse flew and landed close to the unconscious body of the boy…Nev… the light seemed to pull the boy on to the horse and then it became brighter and brighter until Rafanael was awaken by the sunlight coming in the hut.
Toren asked:
“Good morning Rov, the storm has completely faded away. It will take us a while to get to Mior safely. Would you like to wait here another day before the roads are dry?”
Rafanael shook his head to get a grip on the question and after a long yawn, replied:

“We must get to Mior as soon as possible, I think it’s preferable to deal with possible delays when confronted with them, alright, Toren?”
“Certainly. Let’s get going then; all sunlit hours are precious in these final parts of the trek.”

Toren noticed a subtle shift in Rov’s face and demeanour but didn’t comment. No questions asked – enough gold for that. And they went back to the road by the river and drove away into the mountains.

Up in the sky, a proud eagle was slowly circling up a current of warm air, searching for food or simply enjoying the flight…

Intro post scriptum

2007-10-12T14:47:00.000-07:00

Hello again,

I forgot to mention to those who don't know the Engelsain tales yet that you can find the previous 18 chapters in the gallery and journal section of my page at www.innerpeace1979.deviantart.com

More than that,you can also find there pictures of several of the characters and a map which you can use for reference.

Thanks for reading:)

all the best
:)

Intro

2007-10-11T15:03:00.000-07:00

Hi everybody,

I hope we all enjoy the journey that is about the be started here.

The Engelsain Tales will now arrive at a new stage.

Characters will come together. Bonds will be broken while others will be forged.

In the upcoming chapters we will see a mysterious character by the name of Rav arrive in Mior, to find a city where he goes looking for a priest to confront... but no one knows tomorrow...

Jordan will meet and start training a new student in Lord Aujir's house.

Genma Hawrry and Godfred become friends.

I'm looking forward to posting.

Enjoy the ride.

Ric