Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths

Chapter 7 Valoria

     The border.

     The most active area of conflict in the clans has been in the past fifty years since this dreaded and long-fought war began between the Empire and the collective Frostlandian kingdoms. Edlund has grown up hearing of the utter brutality that occurred there, the constant effort to repel the relentless attacks launched by the frostlanders and their Hyperborean elite. It was pretty jarring, the initial conflicts. The Empire has always kept its distance to this ancient region north. If was mere rumors if even organized settlements were found, and the mysterious powers of the northern winds whispered amongst travelers. Everyone once in a blue moon someone may venture beyond the frigid forest and hallow hills to peer to this culture, only to return with warnings of dangers beyond these people that call the north part of the Utheran continent their home. These beings, who could will ice and snow, golems that could smash boulders to rubble, and vicious men as brutal as the Empire's most archaic of days.

       But, Edlund did not fear this enemy, not as he once had. This thought was of no arrogance; he fully acknowledges the severe danger these beings pose. He was at the mercy of one and could have certainly met his end. But that encounter had left him somewhat enlightened to them. They were indeed just as mortal as they were, though their mystic nature points to the opposite. But, he was also a much different person than the confident boy who treaded that snow in search of even greater foes. Though he was a knight then, he is even more now. And as he rides upon his pegasus, zipping through the chilly winds, his mind drifts back to that day that had come so abruptly.

      "Emerus," Celia glanced at the sword she was just inspecting and narrowed her eyes.

"Is he familiar, mother?" Lyse asked. "Never heard dad mention anyone like that."

"He trained both James and your father," she said before turning back to the servent. "Send word of our approach; we shall meet with him shortly."

The servent nodded before departing. Before following the servent down to the main entrance, Cwelia ordered Makyra to take the box back to the chamber when night comes, and until then, hide it in her room and never leave it. She called Makyra to hear from, with little protest in return as she wished to personalize her own space further while she had the chance. That left Edlund and Lyse to follow her down to the main hall before the throne room. It never crossed Lyse's mind that his father did have a master out there who taught him all he knew; he was just able to settle that his father had an instead decorated career as a knight and fought gods before. Though he believes this to be far more mundane, he found himself anxious to meet this person, and he could feel the same from Edlund. Edlund doubts that this person would be anything like Gabbes. He expects this seven-foot-tall muscle-bound creature with skin like iron and a mean look to challenge them both on the spot or something like that. Even his mother looked a little uneasy to meet this person, despite her knowing little to nothing at all about him. But when they came to the main hall, they were met with an odd sight.

It was a man, for sure, though aged to a near decrepit state. Lyse has never met someone so old. His skin was so dark and dry one could mistake he was some strange wood carving. His hunched figure blade seemed stable as he perpetually leaned forward, eyes forward and half observant. But most bizarrely was that he was sitting on a floating cushion that puts him barely on eye level with them. His white and grey robes draped his stick-like form, and a sword held in his lap. Flanking him were men in similar-looking robes. The eyeless helmets were trained in the aura, though they gave off vibes similar to the knights. But Emerus, Lyse couldn't believe his eyes when he saw what his aura looked like. Despite his frail appearance, his atmosphere was vibrant and serene, such a peaceful and mighty aura that dwarfed his own, checked his mother. Even if he cannot use this aura, it was impressive to behold for knights of any capacity. Lyse and Edlund both got the urge to bow their heads in respect, which they did.

Emerus bowed his head as well, eyes gazing upon them both. He seemed to ponder something a moment, looking at them before his eyes settled on Lyse when he pointed the butt end of the sword towards him.

"You are Wilbur's progeny?" his voice was dry but surprisingly snappy.

Lyse's back stiffened. "We both are, lord Emerus. Though I am of blood, yes."

"Hmm," he glanced back at Edlund. "Well, I guess you will do fine as well. But, come, we do not have all day. The mountains get rather cold at night, and I can't be bothered putting on extra layers."

They all stood in bewilderment as his magic cushion began turning and moving out the door. Lyse watched as his two guards turned on their heels and prepared to leave as well. "Wait, do you wish us to leave with you."

"Of course," he did not stop or even turn. "How else am I supposed to train you two. I'm not psychic; at least, I don't think I am. Just come along."

"Training?" Edlund looked to Lyse and his mother. "Wait, what's going on."

"You deaf boy," he turned back sharply, then said in the old tongue. "How about if I say it slowly. Come. Along. I. Am. Going. To. Train. You."

"We understand you perfectly, lord Emerus," Lyse said. "But this is all very sudden, especially since my brother and I have already been knighted and recognized."

"You think a title means that you have nothing left to learn?" he snorted. "You certainly are your father's boys. But, if you believe you have learned all that is, then you may not be ready after all."

"No," Lyse quickly said, stepping forward. Emerus looked upon him, curious. Lyse patted the bade at his side. "I want to be worthy of wielding this blade. Please teach me all that you can."

"Me too," Edlund said, bowing once more. "I may not be Wilbur's son, but he is the only father I know. It will be an honor to learn from his teacher and carry on his legacy."

"You both have strong hearts," he spoke. "But that won't be enough. What awaits you is training far more grueling and taxing than the little drills taught to you. But, within six months, you will be worthy knights in any eyes."

"Why have you come?" Celia asked him. "You haven't been down from the mountain in nearly two hundred years, Emerus. Why now?"

He looked solemnly into the distance for a few moments before refocusing on her. "I know that something is coming, girl. And know the fate that fell upon my last students. It would seem that I have failed once more. I intend to rectify that with these two. This clan needs me, needs them. And I'm here to make sure they are ready. Ready to save our lands."

    And so they left. Edlund could not explain it then, but the promise of power engaged him immediately, and more than that, anything to know more about their father was a golden carrot before eager eyes. Lyse was perhaps more cautious, but both knew that where they were now, it was more than likely they would not survive their subsequent encounter. They barely survived their battle with Hephaestus, severely weakened. Valoran sounded like the perfect opportunity to prepare. But neither did grasp what was being handed to them. Truth be told, that arduous journey through the mountains will be the least of their troubles. After nearly a month of moving through the icy hills of the Frostlands, they weren't too worried about this trek. But what unnerved him were these men they traveled with. As requested by this Emerus man, they bring little, but it seemed that his guards got even less, just a tiny bag they carried on their backs and nothing else. The horses they rode were Pegasi, which were rare these days, but they didn't bother riding them. Emerus still floated on that pillow ominously, only stopping occasionally for light conversation with either Lyse and Edlund or his guards. At night, they stood guard outside, strangely reminiscent of the Sentinels that guard the Silondran Fortress. No need for shelter, no need to eat.

        "Tell me, what has your father told to you about his younger years," he regarded Lyse.

       Lyse and he were huddled around a small fire. There weren't as many creatures this high in the mountains, but the occasional mountain spirit or, worst, mountain giants. Such things were hunted to extinction long ago, but there are always rumors.

      "Not much of anything, I'm afraid," Lyse said.

      "Neither of our parents ever told about family or where they grew up," Edlund shrugged. For all we know, they came up in BrokenArrow. But no one in town is related to us, so . . ."

     "Hmm," Emerus locked them both in a deep look, a very swift analysis of their entirety before he softened his gaze. "I see; they are quite thorough. But, unfortunately, it appears they wiped your memory of your earliest days and replaced them with false ones."

     Lyse's eyes widened. "Are you a mage?"

    "No," he chuckled. "But if you're alive as long as me, you can tell when someone's aura is disturbed in certain ways. Have you ever thought of reclaiming those memories?"

     Lyse thought quietly for a few moments before finally shaking his head. "No. I doubt anything I could learn would change who I am anyway or what I intend to do."

     "Interesting," he said, then looked to Edlund. "And you. You are not related by blond, but I sense a strong bond between you two."

      "Well yeah," Edlund said. "We may not be blood, but we ate under the same house, slept in the same room since we were kids. But, of course, our bond couldn't be anymore stronger otherwise."

     "Perhaps," Ermerus shook his head. "Well, either way, it is clear that you both are strong-willed young men, inherited by your parents. And that is a good thing because what you are to endure will require that of you."

      "We're not afraid," Edlund said. "We've trained nearly our whole lives to be knights, and I'm sure we can handle anything you throw at us."

     Emerus snorted at his comment. "Boy, what you will learn in these six months will amount to ten lifetimes of your poultry drills those in the plains call training. There is a reason I am highly apprehensive in teaching the things I've taught both the former king and your father to others is the risk that comes with it. You both must understand clearly, that death is more than a possibility; it's near-certain if you lack what it takes."

      "Oh," Edlund was a bit more apprehensive. "Well, what kind of training are we to expect?"

     Emerus just smiled.

     When they woke up, everything was gone. All except their very own tent and blankets, their weapons, and two of the packs those guards carried left for them. The immediate instinct was to panic, but their minds knew better than to focus on such things. The day was young,t eh winds stripping as they assessed their situation as quickly, yet precisely as they could. Edlund gathered the packs left for them; inside were two provisions, flint and steel, and a compass, nothing else. They had their weapons, their tent, and blankets. They realized that this would not last them to Silondras; they had already made a week-long journey. Besides just rations, the dangers would surely get them by then. It would seem that this training so dangerous that their lives are regularly on the line, has already started. They needed to find their way to Valoria. They can't believe how well they pulled this off, not disturbing them at all as they departed. But they've been on enough survival training and drills to know what to do. The only trouble was is that they had no idea how far away their destination was. IT could be another week on the trail, or it could be a few days.

     "So I guess this is where things get difficult, hopefully," Edlund said. "Tracks are still fresh, and they didn't try all that hard to hide them."

    "But the more time we waste, the harder it will be to spot them," Lyse said. "We should get going while the day is young."

    So they were off. At their speeds, they can cover quite the distance. But traveling on such rough terrain as the side of the mountain, they were sure to be careful, less they had a painful tumble down. The hill only got steeper, and the path less and less clear. They weren't aware that such a path existed at all, but Edlund supposed courses are pretty useless when one can soar the skies on flying steeds. He kept his mind on the destination; that was a neat little trick he taught himself to get through scenarios like this. He just focuses on home, on what he's after, what he wants. And it's what he's always wanted, the power to do something. And this place, Valoria, will give it to him. He knows not to doubt the will of Lyse, and he's someone who has shown no spare thought or doubt on his stance. He admired that. But he always felt inadequate, like what he could do wasn't worth anything. Although Lyse may not see it this way, Edlund has made his brother his rival, what he wants to beat, which drives him now as they trek this mountain.

       Near mid-day, they came upon an odd formation. It appeared that the mountain had been gouged out from some massive destructive force. Not only, but the opposite edge was raised an excellent fifty meters high, disappearing into the thick mist that covered this area. It was a bizarre sight, almost purposeful.

      "Well, this is quite the wonder," Lyse scanned the area. "Tracks ends here, and we don't know how far down that goes."

      "Go around?" Edlund asked.

     "Mountain's too steep," he said. "And we're already out of food. So we're running on borrowed time right now."

      "So the only way forward is up," Edlund said. "WE can probably clear that if we make ourselves light enough. Wind ain't bad either."

     "Worth a shot," Lyse agreed. "You first, though."

    "Gladly,"  Edlund stretched out for a few moments, then backed up a few paces to get a good lay of the land. He could only faintly see what may be the top of this cliff in the fog above. It would be higher than he has ever attempted to jump before, but he has heard of knights to be able to leap even greater. He took an even slow breath, feeling aura soar into his limbs, into eery muscle building in power and energy so that it nearly became visible around him. Lyse took a step back as Edlund, with the untempered right, launched from the ground, kicking away snow from where he stood and stirring the winds. The echoing sound of his departure echoed off the cliff face as he ascended into the fog. Legs and arms ready to brace himself, he found the cliff quickly approaching him. There was indeed more cliff above. He managed to maneuver himself, and with aura fueled into his hand as he plunged it into the mountainside, stopping him from falling as he got his bearings. It felt nothing more e than pushing your hand into the dry straw. At least he could better observe his surroundings. And sure enough, just above the fog was the cliff's edge. Using all the power he could muster, he climbed his way to the very top. He was never a good climber, but with the power of avra, many physical endeavors become trivial to the likes of knights.

      Nevertheless, he was at the top soon enough, looking down to where Lyse should be. The fog seemed even thick up here, as no sun could pierce the richness in its atmosphere. Grey shapes were dancing on top of them as wind spirits made faint trails here or there in them.

     "How far up?" Lyse's shouts rebounded up to Edlund.

     "About seventy meters," Edlund said. "Hope you brought your climbing boots."

     "I think I got something a little better," Lyse shouted back. Edlund was curious what this was on about, but then he saw as some plants at his feet began to poke through the thin layer of frost, despite the desolate climate this far up. He took a step back as suddenly, and an entire tree seemed to burst from the cliff face, throwing roc away as its lushes leaves and vines provided color to the bleak world of the mountains. And then, from a single branch, a single thick vine lowered itself into the fog. Edlund watched as not too soon after, Lysehad climbed his way to the top, a half-smile on his face, pale but smiling."

       "You know, I'd cut that and watch you tumble down again."

      "Am I supposed not to use these abilities, brother?" Lyse swung onto the ledge, his lightened weight allowing him to do so gracefully. 

      "Look at you; you're already half-dead," Edlund said. "You wouldn't be half as tired if you'd just use Avra."

     "I have to get used to it," Lyse said. "But you do have a point there. It's like using even a tenth of the power of the gods is worth half of my reserves."

      "If you keep up, will you . . ."

      "What happened to mom won't happen to me," Lyse assured him. "Not as long as I'm worthy."

     "Define worthy."

     "If only I could," Lyse said, almost a chuckle to follow. But then he stopped himself, looking around at their surroundings for the first time. "Wait, is this it."

      Edlund looked around as well, and only then did it finally dawn on him. This was the peak of the mountain, and there was nothing around them, nothing in sight. The air thin and sharp, the fogs of clouds drifted past them in a slow march as it wrapped around the summit.

     "What is this?" Edlund asked. "Where's Valoria?"

     "And it appears the old man has some new pupils, eh?"

     Their instincts shot through them like lightning. In an instant, Lyse held his father's sword in hand, and Edlund had taken out a golden rod from his belt. The rod flashed into light with a single click, revealing a giant hammer that he held at the ready. On the other side of this peak, a man who was indeed not there before sat on a rock facing them, a spear laying across his lap. He seemed more interested in cracking open nuts than addressing the two knights that pointed weapons at him now, but something told Edlund the man was more than ready to put that spear through their hearts before a beat.

     "You know who we are?" Lyse asked.

     "You made it this far," he said. "Quite talented, I must say. When you knights find out what the first test is, I sometimes hear that you turn back immediately. But getting this far is the easy part. What are you going to do now?"

      "What are we supposed to do?" Lyse asked.

     He flashed a set of keys dangling from an iron ring from his hand. This was when he looked up to them. He didn't wear the faceless helmet like the others. Still, his armor was clearly of similar make, the whites, and silvers with sleek design, giving an artificial look to otherwise beautiful craftsmanship. He was no ordinary knight, and there was something about him, something too calm.

     "Supposed to do?" he asked. "You think this some math test? Give you the formula and let you just solve it? The knights down there sure have lost a few their ways."

     "That is why we are here," Edlund said. "To reconnect with the lost arts. To become stronger."

     "Stronger, eh?" he stood up, picking up the spear. "Alright then, why do you want to become stronger."

      Edlund seemed a bit perplexed by the gesture, and it was as if a switch had been switched. That spear moved with a  weight he dared not test. And the air stirred as he walked forward as if he was the precursor of the winds itself. They both tightened their grips on their weapons.

     "I want to be strong enough to protect my family," said Lyse.

      He stopped. And just for a moment, he seemed to contemplate both of them and what he had heard. Looking to Lyse, then to Edlund, then a soft sigh. Even with his pose relaxed, something was prepared for what he would do. But then, with a flash of bright light, Lyse was gone. Edlund felt it before it happened; no doubt Lyse did too. But suddenly, he raised his spear, pointed it at Lyse, and a bright column of light rained from above, nearly blinding him as he shielded his eyes. And when the light dulled away, Where Lyse stood was nothing at all but a freshly melted patch of snow. Edlund looked to this man once more, but by the time he did so, the shaft of a spear cracked him across the jaw, sending him off his feet with the blow and onto his back. 

    "You need not tell me your answer. I can sense it already, your uncertainty. Therefore, you are unworthy," he said, pointing the end of the spear to Edlund. "Go back to where you came from; Vallora's gates are closed for you."

      Edlund wiped the blood that curled at the corner of his mouth. He hefted his hammer. "Give me back, my brother."

       "He is worthy," he said, readying his spear once more. "So again, I ask you, he who is unworthy, why do you seek strength?"

      "To be better," Edlund pounced. His hammer may seem too heavy but unwieldy, but the strange metal that the god of the forge created this from was extremely light, lighter than Nemean steel, and perhaps just as durable. So when he came swinging, there was a moment of hesitance at the power he could put behind it. He went for a side strike to break through his defenses, and for a moment, he seemed off-balance. But as soon as he got solid footing, he quickly blocked the upcoming strike. Though the staff was wooden, it was embued with so much aura that Edlund felt sick when he was near it. He tried to preserve the momentum of his swing and recover, but the spear whizzed through his guard and nearly went through his head instead of grazing the top of his scalp as he ducked aside. The hammer reverted to its rod form as he evaded, only transforming to exchange blows once more. But once more, the butt of the staff slammed into his ribs, and he was sent on hands and knees. That time something broke.

     "What are you fighting for?" he asked once more, the spear leveling at his throat. 

      "All my life," Edlund said. "I was told I'm not ready. That what I could do was not good enough. And every time, it was all up to Lyse to do it. I'm tired of letting him do what is right. I want to protect my home, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

      Edlund grabbed the spear. He knew very well to be careful, as the slightest control given to even a novice spearmen could end with him with a blade in his gut. But all he needed was a split second. The rod he held once more sprung fully into a massive hammer as he swung with a single-arm right into the side of this knight. Just in time, as the spear would have ended up in his gut otherwise, but instead grazed off his side, straight through his packed gambeson vest. They both went falling, but the spearman was the one who stood first. With the number of injuries he has sustained, and no time to heal, it's a wonder how long he could stay in the fight. The spearmen raised a finger to his mouth, seeing a bit of blood on the very tip of a gloved finger; there was just a moment of anger in those eyes, but then, all the sudden, they softened, as he planted the spear at his side, and held out a hand out to Edlund. Edlund was unsure whether it was some kind of trick, but he sensed that the fight had ended somewhat. 

     "Good answer," he said. "Your brother is wise, but you are strong of will. Or maybe a complete idiot."

      "I've been told both and more," Edlund rubbed his side.

      "Forgive me if I was a little callous," he said. "The old man put me up to it. Old Raum was out, and we needed to fill in. Better me than him, trust me. I'm Connor, btw."

      "Edlund," he said.

       "Just Edlund?" he asked.

      "Edlund Opal."

     "Welcome, Edlund Opal," he lifted Edlund to his feet. "To Valoria. the birthplace of the Empire."