When I was a child, the stargazers of Tal Kildera spoke of the ancient legends of Ebeldeth. Although the histories were uncertain, the legends were not. They claimed that the ancient King of Ebeldeth–Supreme Sadris Vakom–was part of an ancient race called the Aldrei. Supposedly, the Aldrei were normal humans, who could wield a mystical power. Something called necromancy, or magic. The legends state that Supreme Sadris was of the stargazer race who united the peoples of Ebeldeth. To the Western Shores, there were the stargazers, masters of astronomy and philosophical reasoning. In the midwest, in the kingdom of Qaerlin, they were master smiths and knights. In the middle east, there were the Talora Kalians, graceful in etiquette and pleasantries. And finally, the Heshibald Crunains, the least educated of the peoples of Ebeldeth, but the best huntsmen and trackers. The Heshibald Crunains were content in their humble homes and small villages, living off the land. However, i
The trio had begun their trek the next day, taking it easier than usual. They were all aching in different places, and the new packs and added supplies made hiking that much harder. Ilben was feeling useless. First, Owain and Elisa had each killed two of the attacking bandits two days prior. Then, Elisa had found a way for them to make money, and Owain had led them to escape. What had Ilben done? He had thrown a club at a horse, and luckily killed the rider in the process. Also, he had played the part of a fake bettor. Still, his achievements seemed juvenile in comparison. As they walked, he thought: What can I do to contribute well? He was thinking about it when they reached a large clearing in the forest they were walking through. It was a spacious open space with plenty of room to settle down and rest. “Let’s rest here guys,” Owain said. They all nodded thankfully and set their packs on the ground. Ilben looked between Elisa and Owain, noticing that they bot
It was almost nightfall when Ilben, Elisa, and Owain arrived at Kalan Village. They were exhausted from the fight earlier that day, and they stank like pigs. Ilben was dead tired and ready to get some blankets. The problem they all had on their minds: How would they get enough money for supplies? They still had fifteen domfel from the bandits, but that would only get them all bedding. Thankfully, they had packs now, so they wouldn’t be spending all their money on packs. The three children–if you could even call them that anymore–walked to the nearest market. “How are we going to get money?” Owain said with a frown. Elisa smiled. “Remember the shells I bought?” the two boys nodded. “Well, when I was living alone on the streets of Githhaven, I learned how to make some easy money.” “How are you going to make money with shells?” Ilben asked. “You’ll see. Here’s how you guys can help,” Elisa said. The friends went to the center square separately so it didn’t look like
The woman dumped a glop of gruel onto the soldier’s plate. He was probably thirty, ten years younger than her. That didn’t stop him, however. It never stopped any of them. “Hey baby, lookin’ fine. Where are you from?” he said as he bit his lip. The woman ignored his comment. “Is that all sir?” “My, aren’t we a bit passive today?” “I asked if that was all sir.” “I guess. See you around, honey.” She grimaced. She got this treatment every day. There weren’t many women in the camp, and they sought her like hounds. She was still youthful and beautiful at the age of seventeen, and that was all they needed. It was miserable, as she was stationed in Heshibald Crune. It had been conquered around a year and a half earlier by Emperor Harnkelt. She had lived there the last eighteen years of her life, before being taken to be an army cook for the Emperor’s armies. Now she just put up with women-hungry men and cooking. Every day, she thought of escaping, but the camp
It was near the seventh hour of the morning when they stopped to rest. They were tired, and they had been traveling for the last five hours. On top of that, they realized that virtually no planning had been made for the trip. They needed more food (as they had already finished most of it), more water, blankets, and a route. “We’ll rest here, and then continue in a couple of hours or so. Who wants to take first watch?” Ilben asked. “I will,” Owain said. So Elisa and Ilben wrapped their arms around themselves and fell asleep quickly. Owain sat there on a log in the warm summer morning and let the air ruffle his curly locks and refresh him. He had always enjoyed the mornings, and had often woken up early at home to walk around before his irritable family had awoken. The group had settled down on the outskirts of a wooded area, in a relatively open field. Their route consisted of the road leading west. It was a simple plan, and easily made since the province of Talora
Ilben, Owain, and Elisa crept silently through the nearby village, around a ten minute walk from the children's home. It had been around a year and a half that they had been there, and they needed adventure sometimes. At that moment, they were going to a tavern, at the dead of night. Supposedly, nobody knew they were gone, and they would be in massive trouble if the housekeeper figured out. The home had a sundown policy–meaning they couldn’t go outside past that time. It was around eleven at night. The night was a chilly one, with pouring rain and an icy wind. It didn’t help matters that children at the homes were given no extra clothes. So Ilben still wore his white tunic, trousers, and worn boots. Owain still wore a brown leather vest over a brown tunic, and black boots. While Elisa just wore a tattered dress. Shivering, they slunk between alleyways, and darted up to the Gutted Boar Tavern. From outside, they could hear raucous laughter and drunken singing from inside, a
Dust flew outside the children’s home as boys and girls alike clashed with staffs of wood. The games occurred once a month; a display of skill and a way to allow all the kids to compete in a sport and get better. These games had been officially dubbed ‘Grindle’s Games’, after the headmistress, Grindle. The games went all day and consisted of three different challenges. These challenges changed month to month depending on the weather. This month, the games were stick fighting, an obstacle course, and a swimming race. At the moment, Elisa was fighting a boy around Ilben’s age of fourteen. They were fighting back and forth inside the ring–a boundary of sticks–and neither could gain the upper hand. The boy was more muscular than her, but she had a life of grit and a year on him, making the match relatively even. Finally, however, Elisa roared and lashed out. She feinted toward his gut, before snagging his legs from under him and sending him to the ground with a thud! Scatter
A cool breeze wafted between the bars of the cart, eliciting a tremble from Ilben. A week ago, a group of ten boys had been thrown in the cart after the battle–taken who-knows-where. Ilben was inconsolable. Even the presence of Owain did little to lift his spirits, as all he could think about was that fateful moment. Shunk! He could still hear the squelch as the blade was driven into his father’s heart. He could see the blood pooling from his body, and feel the rage boiling inside him. Then he could remember as the pommel of the sword hit him, and everything went dark. He had awoken inside the cart, rattling along the countryside, cold and hungry. Owain wasn’t fairing much better. His will was broken and his heart ached to see his best friend in the state he was. On top of it all, Heshibald Crune was lost. King Harnkelt had taken occupation of the country after the final battle that left the Heshibald Crunains outnumbered five to one. Chief Yerg had been executed
It was a three hours march to ‘Death Point’, as the front lines were being called due to the death toll they brought. Grand Chief Yerg had begged for reinforcements and so the village had sent two hundred of roughly one-thousand men selected to fight for Torkov Village. The war had been going a month yet, and already it was looking grim. Currently, Owain slogged along, panting hard from the exertion of the trek. Even at the age of fifteen, Owain was one of the best archers in his village, thus he was chosen for this mission. He grimaced as he looked around. Chief Agnon had sent one hundred of the village's best fighters, and one hundred of the dispensable ones. All in all, Owain was scared. By now, King Harnkelt had led his army into the heart of Heshibald Crune, forcing a retreat from Chief Yerg in an attempt to mobilize forces. The remaining Heshibald Crunain forces were at a total of twelve thousand–a harrowing number. For the eight thousand Heshibald Crunain soldiers de
The girl smiled as the naive Githhaven citizen tried to guess where the dice was, to no avail. The girl–a street urchin–had been scamming people with the trick ever since an old “cripple” had taught her the year before. It was simple. The trick worked by a sleight-of-hand technique. One had simply to flip the dice out of the seashell it was in, into their hand, and back into a different shell. Many failed, but some figured out they weren’t going to guess the right shell and took a fifty-fifty chance on the other two. Currently, the girl was demonstrating the “trick” to a foolish man. “So watch as I slowly move the shells around, and you can see that the first shell is the one with the dice.” She then moved the shells around and instilled a false sense of confidence in the spectator by showing them that the dice was still in the original one. The man smiled, thinking he would make an easy fifty silver domfel (the currency of Talora Kal). So the girl shuffled