The Village of Pranow / Pt. 5

circa 300 n.t.
Dannaar, Ero'ia

Lleu Danson opened a saddlebag and tucked an extra water canteen into its large pocket. As he re-tied the straps, Walder exited the aging house behind him. He was followed by Marny, their recent hostess.

Walder was in the process of finishing a story, which did not surprise Lleu. He had come to the conclusion shortly after meeting the stocky man that storytelling was one of his favorite pastimes.

Walder and Marny began laughing. The deep base of Walder's laugh echoed off the walls on either side of the muddy road.

"Where is Povl?" asked Lleu, anxious to get moving.

Povl came through the doorway just then. "I'm here. I'm ready." He slung a pack of his personal belongings over his shoulder. "Where is our guide?"

Lleu noted the quiver in Povl's voice, but it was Walder who asked gruffly, "What's got you all jittery this morning?"

"Jittery? Me?" Povl laughed in spite of himself. He left Marny's steps and took the reigns of his horse from the stable boy.

"I know what it is," the boy commented, "he's scared of going into the Hon-abrels today."

"Do me a favor," Povl snapped, "and keep your opinions to yourself."

The boy seemed unoffended. "Well you better get your nerves settled soon; otherwise you could make your mare skittish. And the last thing you'll want in those mountains is a skittish horse."

"Right," Walder added, "she'll buck you off just as some monster is comin' at us. And i'm sorry, my friend, but at that point I'll be heading the opposite direction. I'd sooner let you be eaten than give anything a chance to get a taste of my-"

Lleu interjected, "Enough! This kind of talk is not benefiting us." He grabbed hold of his saddle and swung himself up onto his horse. He looked back at Povl. "Everything is going to be just fine. The Hon-abrel Mountains are just that, mountains. Same goes for the myths and lore that come from them."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that-" the boy began again, but promptly stopped when he saw the warning look on Lleu's face.

Povl mounted up, and then pointed up the road between the rows of villagers' homes. "Is that our guide?"

Lleu turned to see Garst trotting toward them on a roan stallion with a thick mane. A bow and quiver were slung over his shoulder, and a short, but wide-bladed sword dangled at his side. Close behind him followed two pack mules.

Lleu was noticing the absence of the large feline when she suddenly appeared in his view, having been hidden behind the mules. She made two long bounds, bringing her quickly along side the roan, which seemed surprisingly comfortable with her presence.

"Uldon's Hammer," Walder exclaimed as he tried to keep a hold of his now-unsettled horse. "What is that unnatural terror?"

As Lleu and Povl attempted to settle their own steeds, Lleu managed to respond, "That, unbelievably, is his pet."

Garst reigned in before them and nodded to Lleu.

"Mother's mercy, man!" Walder pointed at the creature. "There are children in this village!"

Garst looked down on Walder, regarding him with impatience.

Walder grumbled to himself as he removed a heavy double-bladed axe from under one of his saddlebags. "Guess I'll be keeping this close," he muttered.

Garst raised an eyebrow. "Do you even know how to use that?"

"Do I know how to use this?" Walder sounded offended. He thumped his chest once. "I served as a footman in the King's Army for four years, I'll have you know."

"Hmm," Garst was unimpressed. He looked back at Lleu. "Is this everyone then?"

"Yes," Lleu replied. He indicated Povl behind him. "This is Povl Flannr," he then nodded toward Walder, who was finally climbing on top of his horse, "and that is Walder Hagen."

Povl moved his mare alongside Garst and offered to shake hands. But instead of returning the offer, Garst just placed the reigns of the pack mules into Povl's open hand.

"You're now in charge of these stubborn animals." He turned his roan about and nudged him into a trot. He shouted over his shoulder, "Keep a tight hand on them, they tend to wander."

Povl looked over at Lleu in irritation. "He's the best you could come up with?"

"There wasn't much of a selection," Lleu responded, then kicked his horse to follow after Garst.

Walder expressed his gratitude for Marny's hospitality, then he and Povl kicked their steeds into gallops.

The Village of Pranow / Pt. 4

Circa 300n.t.
Dannaar, Ero'ia

Geena, a middle aged woman who lived alone in a small cottage a short distance outside of Pranow, extended her outstretched hand toward a small log. Her other arm strained under the stack of firewood that she intended to add one more piece to. She stretched a little too far and found herself now off balance, with the load of wood slipping off her arm.

Suddenly she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, steadying her. She looked up in surprise to stare into the rich green, sad eyes of a man she recognized too well.

"Garst..." She righted herself. "I didn't hear you approach. You startled me." She forced a smile. "Thank you. Your assistance was timely."

Garst nodded uncomfortably. She seemed to be aging more steadily of late. Her long blonde hair was now completely greyed. Yet she was still several years from fifty. Even her eyes, which were once a lively blue, had become less and less vibrant over the past few years.

Garst looked at the firewood in her arms. "Let me help you with that." He reached toward the stack.

Geena hesitated, not wanting to appear incapable. But the weight was biting into her forearm. She let him remove the wood from her arms. "Again, thank you."

She led the way around the cottage to the door. He followed quietly.

Once inside she pointed toward the hearth. "You may place it there, beside the mantle." While he did so she removed her old cloak and hung it on a hook next to the door. Then she took down an apron from the same location and began tying the strings behind her back.

"Can I get you some hot tea, Garst?" she asked cordially as she opened up a cupboard door at the far end of the single room cottage.

Garst finished piling the firewood and then stood upright. He stared at her silently for a moment without responding.

"Geena," his voice carried a somber tone. "I am going back in."

"Geena paused, her back still to Garst. She looked down at the herbs in her hands blankly, her thoughts losing focus as they made their way to distant places in her memories.

"When?" she asked softly.

"Today."

"Today..." she repeated absent-mindedly, her gaze still on the herbs. She then shook her head slightly, bringing her focus back to the task she had been about to perform. She turned around and, without looking at him, dropped the herbs on the table to begin crushing them.

"I am going to find him," Garst said seriously. "I am going to find your son, Geena."
Geena slammed a clenched fist down on the table. "Enough is enough, Garst!" The sudden outburst of emotion surprised even her.

She placed a hand on her forehead in frustration. "I am sorry. I...I didn't mean to..." She turned away from him without finishing.

Garst's expression became one of anger. "I know that you have held resentment toward me for what happened to Keftin, and probably still do. But there was a time when you held onto hope that he still lived. There was a time when you believed in me!"

Geena whirled around. "I had no choice! My son, my only son, was gone! What was there left to do? He was the only person I had left, Garst!" She began to sob. "I couldn't help it... I had to hope. I was going insane at the thought of him gone."

Garst crossed the room and embraced her, allowing her to bury her face against his chest and cry.

After some time her sobs slowed. She pushed away from him, and then used her apron to dab her eyes and clear away the tears. "I can't go on with this charade, though." She sniffed, her nose now reddened from crying. "Twelve years has been plenty of time to come to terms with the fact that my son is dead."

"Geena, I do not believe-"

"Please, Garst..." She looked away as she held up a hand to silence him. "Please...just stop."
Garst stared at her sadly for a moment, and then walked slowly to the door.

Before exiting, he looked back over his shoulder, wanting to speak. His mind struggled with the words. None came to his lips. In frustrations, he suddenly opened the door and left her cottage without speaking another word.

Geena walked to the open doorway and watched him go.

The Village of Pranow / Continuation of Pt. 3

Circa 300n.t.
Dannaar, Ero'ia

"Have you business, or is your purpose simply to gawk?"

Lleu indicated the creature beside Garst. "Is is safe for me to dismount?"

Garst scratched behind one of the cat's ears. "Elna, make yourself scarce." The large feline looked up at her master questioningly, but Garst did not take back his command.

The cat turned and looked at Lleu once more before crouching and then leaping with lengthy bounds into the dark woods.

Garst looked Lleu up and down, evaluating the stranger, and then indicated for him to follow. "Come on in if you like. I have a fire going. You're welcome to warm yourself." He turned and strode back into the shack.

Lleu dismounted and followed, while nervously glancing about so as not to be caught unawares by Garst's pet.

The interior of the shack was in much the same condition as the exterior. It was obvious that this man Lleu came here to seek was little concerned with cleanliness or organization. Nor did he bother with accessories or luxuries. By way of furniture, the single room shack was equipped with only a table, chair, bed, and a few shelves fixed to the walls. Atop the shelves were basic food items. A half-loaf of bread, a wooden cup, and a wooden bowl were all that adorned the feeble table. Clothing items, various tools, and wood scrapings littered the floor, but Garst paid it all no mind as he walked to the far side of the shack and heavily sat down on the edge of his bed.
Lleu remained in the doorway until Garst pointed toward the chair next to the table.

"Sit there if you want." Garst then picked up a knife, and with the other hand reached down and brought up a wooden shaft that he had apparently been carving at.

Lleu stepped over dirty clothes and made his way to the chair. "Thank you for inviting me in."

Garst ran the blade along the shaft, stripping thin slices of wood away with repetitive strokes. He watched the stranger closely without saying anything.

Lleu cleared his throat uneasily. "Well, uh..." he wrung his hands together, finding it suddenly hard to speak. "Where do I start?" The setting, combined with the sound of steady knife strokes, and the intimidating stare from a man that was considered cursed, unnerved Lleu.

He cleared his throat again. "I am in need of a guide, and I understand you are the best choice."

"That's what you understand, huh?"

Lleu nodded. "Actually...you are the only choice that I am aware of."

Garst paused in his work. "You're going into the Hon-abrels?"

"Allow me to explain." Lleu sighed, trying to relax a little. "Some time ago I found a necklace in Daelom's River. It is a unique piece that I believe came from somewhere in those mountains-"

"So," Garst laughed shortly, "you're a treasure hunter."

"No," Lleu defended. "Not at all. I mean, I see where it could be interpreted that way, but I assure you-"

"It means little to me either way," Garst interrupted, "so don't waste your breath."

He rose from where he was sitting and walked over to a shelf to retrieve a small box. "I am not going to take you anyway." He then extended his hand that held the box toward Lleu. "Gunnhil Bark?" he offered.

Lleu declined silently, his gaze toward the floor. Garst took out a chunk of the bark, rolled it up tightly, and then walked over to the fireplace.

As he held one end of the rolled bark into the fire Lleu shifted in his seat in order to address Garst again. "Are you truly going to dismiss me so fast? Without even hearing me out?"

"Yes." Garst held the smoldering roll up to his lips and took in a puff.

"But why?"

"It is not a good idea... you in those mountains."

"How can you make such a judgment? You don't know me."

"But I do know the Hon-abrels." Garst leaned against the mantle of his fireplace and stared into the flickering flames. "Besides, there is nothing in there worth risking your life..."

Lleu began rummaging through the pockets of his tunic. "You must see the necklace." He found what he was lookng for and drew out a closed fist from one of his pockets. "It is truly unique...entirely foreign. So much so that it will make your imagination dance." He stood up and opened his hand so that Garst could see the necklace.

Garst irritably looked away from the flames so that he could humor his guest. But when he saw the necklace his expression changed. They stood in silence for a brief moment while Garst stared down at the item in Lleu's open hand.

"Where did you say you found that?" Garst asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

"I fished it out of the river just south of Daelom's Gorge."

"Daelom's Gorge, you say?" Garst suddenly rushed over to his bed and dropped to one knee so that he could reach underneath. He drew out crinkled up maps and then laid them on the table.
Lleu watched curiously as Garst attempted to smooth one of the maps out.

Garst studied it for some time.

Lleu stepped closer to look at the map as well. It was not professionally done; he guessed that it was probably Garst that had drawn it. The area was unfamiliar to him though, so he straightened back up and patiently waited. He took the change in Garst's behavior as a positive sign.

Garst muttered to himself for a moment as he traced his finger along a line that Lleu assumed was indicating a river. Suddenly he slammed his fist down on the table. "Why didn't I think of that before?"

He pushed the first map off the table and began studying another. He subconsciously rubbed his chin with one hand, occasionally glancing toward the open doorway, deep in thought.
Lleu offered, "Is there anything I can do?"

Garst, apparently having forgotten that he had a guest, looked at Lleu blankly for a few seconds. He shook his head. "No, no." He then ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. "I apologize. I got distracted for a moment."

"I can't help but ask, is the necklace familiar to you?"

Garst walked to the doorway and stared out into the night air. He did not answer. Instead, after another long pause of silence, he asked, "When could you be ready to leave?"

Winter's Peace / PART 1

Dedicated to my beautiful Wife.

Thank you for your love and support!

~ C. Rorke Wall

Circa 268 n.t.

Nasalia, Semana

Illette pulled the hood of her fur-lined cloak back from her face and let the frosty air tickle her eyelashes. She took in a deep and refreshing breath and then smiled contentedly. Winter had always been her favorite season, and the peaceful snow covered scene around her could not have been more perfect.

The branches of the quiet pines behind her slightly sagged beneath the thick layer of snow that covered them. Any time a slight breeze would waft past, thousands of tiny snowflakes would leap off the branches and flutter to the ground in a graceful dance.

Above her, pillow-like clouds floated slowly through the clear, crisp, blue sky. And ahead of her, the edge of a cliff dropped off, exposing a breathtaking view of the lowlands below. The entire scene, in every direction, was covered by the delicate blanket of clean, white snow. Shades of chill-blue shared the landscape where shadows hid the ground from the sky.

Illette untied the velvet ribbon that held her soft white cloak in place, and let it slide off her shoulders and fall to the ground. The rich maroon dress she wore still kept her warm enough for the time being. Besides, she didn't mind the cold.

She brought her arms up at her sides and began to twirl around, allowing her mind to lose itself in the memories of her childhood. Around and around she danced. She began to laugh, caught up in the serenity of the moment.

On one of her turns she caught sight of a man on a horse approaching her and she ceased her play.

"Illette?" A tall, broad shouldered man dressed in a thick bear fur, dismounted and strode over to fetch her cloak. "Have you lost your good senses, my child? Put this back on before the cold overcomes you."

Illette obediently turned around and allowed her father, the Count-Palatine Koenraad, to place the cloak back on her shoulders. He mumbled deeply as she retied the ribbon, "...Prancing around in the snow as though you were a child..."

Illette turned back around to face him, and smiled. "I don't know what came over me."

"I do," he replied, and then looked out at the quiet expanse below them. "Winter. You have always loved it so."

"Would you change it about me?" Illette's voice had a smooth tone that was very calming.

Her father reached a hand up to gently run the back of his fingers down one of Illette's auburn locks. "I would change nothing about you, my sweet child."

She laughed. "I am your favorite, aren't I. Admit it!"

He smiled and placed a finger in front of his lips. "Sshh. Tell no one."

Illette turned her head slightly, then, and took in a deep breath. "Do you smell the evergreens, Father? Though covered with snow, the scent escapes still. And this crisp air heightens its distinctness."

Koenraad took a moment to enjoy the silence with his daughter. Then he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and strode back toward his large charger. "I was sent to remind you of the festivities forth coming." He mounted the tall, black stallion. "Your mother would like your help with preparations."

Illette rolled her eyes. "Must I attend?"

"Your constant desire for solitude is unhealthy."

"Solitude has its benefits. But it is not that at all. It is the guest list."

Koenraad's brow furrowed. "The guest list? What is wrong with the guest list?"

"Nothing, but that the names on it make me ill."

"Daughter..." Koenraad scolded. "Do not speak so disgracefully of the members of our class."

Illette sighed and turned around to face the cliff's edge. "Being born into that society wasn't my choice. I would much prefer to have a gala in Ruud."

The Count-Palatine laughed. It was a rich sound that came from deep within his broad belly. "Please do not repeat that near your mother."

Illette spun back around. "But it is true, father. The people down in Ruud, that mother considers so beneath her, are of much greater worth than any of the pompous fools that-"

"Illette!" Koenraad interupted sternly. "It is improper for you to speak in that manner, and I will have no more of it."

She responded to his scolding by looking down at the ground.

Koenraad relaxed his stern expression. "It is a sad truth, my child, but we each have our place in life. Do not fight against yours."

"Yes, father."

"Will you then promise me that you will help your mother with preparations, and also be in attendance at the festivities?"

She nodded.

"Good. Thank you. That is much more becoming of you." He then looked around to find her horse. After he found none, he looked at her in confusion. "Don't tell me that you walked here."

"I did," she responded.

He shook his head. "You are incorrigible, Illette." He then beckoned for her to come to him. "Climb up here with me, then. I will take you back."

"No, father. Thank you, though. I just really would prefer to walk."

Koenraad decided not to push his offer. He nodded in farewell and then turned his charger around. But then he turned back around. "Oh... I nearly forgot. Not that it is a matter of importance... I just thought I would warn you."

"Warn me?"

"Guess whose name just got added to the list you are so fond of."

His daughter shrugged. "I am sure I have no idea."

"Do you remember Druson Madoc?"

Illette stood absolutely still, and her mood turned immediately sour. "Druson Madoc? ...Druson Madoc, the arrogant bully? Druson Madoc, the Rogue of Maerdyn? Druson Madoc, the Blackguard?"

"I thought you would recognize the name."

"When did he get back?" She stomped one foot furiously on the ground. "How did he get back? Shouldn't he have died in battle, or something?"

Koenraad motioned for her to calm down. "Illette, tame your voice. The Trefor's of Maerdyn will soon be able to hear you, if you keep on as you are."

"Aaah!" Illette clenched her fists and stomped again. "I hate Druson Madoc!" She pointed an accusing finger at her father. "And you, knowingly, still made me promise to attend?" She dropped her hand and clenched it into a fist again. "I won't go. I am sorry father, to have to dishonor myself by breaking my promise, but I absolutely will not go."

"Now, Illette, I liked that young man no more than you. He was always looking for trouble, and if I remember correctly, he teased you mercilessly. But that was near four years ago now. He is returning to us with title and land."

"He had a title before he left! Two actually! They were Imbecile and Miscreant!"

"Well, the only title you will be concerned with tonight is Guest," her father retorted. "As I said, I have no care for him, either. But we will act our place, and do so with dignity. Do you understand me, Illette?" He then reiterated by saying, “Our beloved home, Fionn-arleen, has ne’er had a black mark on its honor. And I will not have a daughter of mine ruining that reputation in one night by stabbing a guest at a ball!”

-----

Later that evening, following the preparations, Illette stood at the window in her chambers and stared out at the darkening landscape below. She was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder.

“Mi’lady,” her handmaiden, Nola, said gently. “It is time to go down to the Hall.”

“Already?” Illette sighed and turned away from the window. She then looked at her handmaiden seriously. “I hope you aren’t going to be referring to me as mi’lady all evening.”

“I must. Your mother would be furious if I called you by name in front of the other nobles.” Nola then smiled comfortingly. “Relax. The night will not go on forever.”

“Well, we’re about to find out.”

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

The Village of Pranow / PART 3

Circa 300 n.t.
Dannaar, Ero'ia

Lleu Danson dismounted and gave his old horse a grateful pat on the neck. Next to him, two other men dismounted. They were Povl and Walder, his two recruits from Daelom's Gorge. They weren't locals of this area, which is what Lleu attributed his success to in recruiting them. For if they knew the reputed nature of their quest's destination they would probably not have agreed to come. The pursuit of riches was all they were aware of.

Lleu viewed their surroundings. They stood in an open square. A light drizzle of rain had turned the ground to mud. A Dannan church stood silently to their right; its stone walls were now old and worn. To their left was a squat blacksmith shop. Firelight danced within, and the ring of the blacksmith's hammer echoed off the small, humble, row of homes that dotted either side of a muddy path in front of them. Beside the blacksmith shop was a stable, where a boy could be seen inside, huddling down against a stall-door trying to stay warm.

Lleu pulled his cloak closer about his body and led his horse in the direction of the stable. Behind him Povl and Walder followed.

"Finally we can get out of this rain," Walder grumbled.

Lleu glanced over his shoulder and smiled to see Walder characteristically waddle-walking behind them.

Povl commented, "Not a very lively place is it..."

Walder nodded and said in a low tone, "I don't think they get visitors here very often."

Lleu walked into the stables and nodded to the boy who was now rising to his feet. "Is there room for our horses here?"

The boy brushed straw off his trousers. He looked to be around 14 years old. He wore a fur cap on his head that was pulled down over his ears. He had to push it up a bit in order to get it away from his eyes. "Yes, there's room. And I'll tend to 'em for a silver piece."

Lleu reached into his coin purse and retrieved a coin. As he handed it to the boy he asked, "You wouldn't happen to know a man by the name of Garst, would you?"

"Garst? Of course I know 'im...unfortunately. If only Pranow was bigger. Then maybe he could be avoided."

"Why do you say that?"

"Bad luck, that one." The boy stuffed the coin into a pocket inside his coat.

Povl raised an eyebrow. "Made himself some enemies, has he?"

"Nah... He's the quiet type. Keeps to himself mostly, and never really bothers anybody."

"Then why is he bad luck?" Walder asked.

"He's cursed."

Povl exclaimed, "Cursed?" He spit on the ground and stomped where it landed.

Lleu shook his head in aggravation. "Oh stop your superstitious foolery." He looked back at the boy. "Can you just tell us where we can find him?"

"And where can we find some food and a bed?" Walder added.

The stable boy pointed the direction of the row of houses outside. "Next house down, across the road, is Marny's place. She has extra rooms that she lets people stay in, as long as they aren't Demrians."

"Sounds like a good woman," commented Walder.

Lleu shook his head again.

The boy continued, "As for Garst, he's got a small place on the other side of town, past the graveyard. You can't miss it. It's the only one out there."

"Thankyou." Lleu handed the boy another silver coin, and then pulled up the hood of his cloak before going back out into the cold drizzle.

---

Lleu rode along the muddy road alone, his pace slow. Behind him was Pranow. Ahead of him was the graveyard, situated on a short hill, with the edge of a dark forest just beyond. And all around him mist was rising up from the ground. It had stopped raining, and now the evening was quiet and still.

Lleu pulled gently on the reigns and his mare stopped. The setting made him feel leery, and the proximity of the giant Hon-abrel Mountains ahead only added to his unease.

Gathering his wits again he nudged his horse onward. "Let's go, girl."

The shack at the end of the road was barely fit to live in. It was situated right into the forest without any clearing around its perimeter. Various furs hung from its walls, and animal bones littered the ground in front. As Lleu approached, some sort of furry creature rose to its feet at the entrance of the shack and stared at him intensely.

It was some sort of large cat, as best as he could tell. He had seen mountain cats that were the size of dogs, but this one before him stood almost three and a half feet tall at its muscled shoulder blades. It was long, too, but Lleu couldn't tell just how long from his current position.

A low growl began rumbling from the large cat's throat. Lleu immediately pulled on the reigns, afraid to go any further. It was then that a man stepped through the doorway to place a calm hand on the cat. The growl ceased, but the intense stare did not.

"Who are you?" the man asked. He was tall and broad shouldered. His hair was dark, shaggy, and unkempt, and his jaw was covered with coarse stubble. He wore animal hide trousers and fur-lined, muddy boots. His tunic was also made from sewn together hides. He wore no coat, despite the chill in the air, and the sleeves of his tunic were rolled up as though he had been working at something. "Do you not speak?" the man asked after a brief silence.

Lleu stammered, "I- I am sorry. Forgive me- My name is Lleu Danson, and I am looking for Garst."

"I am Garst," replied the man.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

The Village of Pranow / PART 2

Circa 300 n.t.
Dannaar, Ero'ia

Lleu Danson pushed open the front door of a shoppe in the old, and cold, town of Daelom's Gorge. The bell chimed, alerting the shopkeeper of Lleu's presence.

The shopkeeper, Hamund Jahnson, rose up from his chair behind the counter and greeted his customer with a nod. "Can I interest you in a new axe, or spade? I just got in some fine tools."

"I am not interested in buying anything today."

Hamund tucked his thumbs into his belt. "Then what can I do for you?"

Lleu sat a knapsack on the counter and unbuckled the strap. "I might have something you are interested in." He flipped back the flap and reached inside.

When he brought his hand back out he was holding a silver necklace of delicate workmanship. The shopkeeper leaned against the counter to get a closer look. Lleu laid it down in front of him.

The shopkeeper noticed thin veins of crystal running through the small silver links. He looked up and asked, "May I pick it up?"

"Of course."

Hamund touched the necklace and commented as he lifted it upward, "It is cold...so very cold. Have you been storing this in a snow bank?"

"I have not. It has felt like that the entire time it has been in my possession."

"Marvelous work..." Hamund turned the necklace over in his hands. There was no pendant, only a band consisting of tiny, diamond-shaped links. Intricate designs of an unfamiliar style had been carved into the surfaces of the links. "From where does it come?"

Lleu shrugged his shoulders. "I was hoping that you would be able to tell me."

"You mean you do not know?"

"Two days ago I fished it out of Daelom's River, just a mile south of here."

The plump shopkeeper turned around to retrieve a glass that would magnify his view of the necklace. "Out of Daeloms' River, eh? That explains how cold it is."

Lleu shook his head. "Perhaps you did not hear me. I drew it out of the river two days ago." He pointed his finger at one of the links and its crystal-like veins. "I don't believe these veins are made of crystal. I believe that they are actually made of ice."

Hamund looked up from his magnifying glass and raised an eyebrow, but then promptly looked back down to see for himself. Through the magnified view he could see the clear veins with detail. He slowly shook his head in disbelief as he identified tiny fingers of frost reaching out from one of the veins. He bent his head lower and breathed slowly onto the necklace. The frost melted away, leaving a hint of moisture on the links. But as his breath ended, the frost immediately began creeping out from the icy veins again.

"Amazing..." the shopkeeper whispered. He gently placed the necklace back on the counter and then stood up straight.

Lleu said to him, "I have only been in this town for a week, and so have told no one of my discovery. Honestly, I just haven't trusted anyone yet. But you are reputed to be an honest man, as well as an intelligent man. I am hoping that I can trust you."

Hamund could tell, from the tone in Lleu's voice, that there was a plan behind his visit to this shoppe this day. "You believe there are more pieces like this, and intend to find their source."

Lleu placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward excitedly. "I am not a fool. I know that this necklace is worth a great deal. And its workmanship cannot be singular. It appears to be a cultural piece...belonging to some long lost civilization, I am sure."

Hamund folded his arms across his chest. "A long lost civilization, perhaps. But you found this necklace in Daelom's River."

"And?"

"That means it came from the Hon-abrel Mountains. That means your lost civilization is to be found in the Hon-abrel Mountains."

"And your family, having resided in Daelom for generations, is said to know this area better than anyone-"

"But not the Hon-abrels."

"How can that be? The mountains loom over this town's very doorstep!"

The shopkeeper shook his head. "You are obviously not from anywhere near here."

"I am not," Lleu stated. "I am from Riversburg. But what of it?"

"Simply put, there are beasts in those mountains... monstrous beasts. It is dangerous and harsh enough just living at the base of these giant mountains, let alone risking all we work for to venture into their forests." Hamund pushed the necklace back toward Lleu. "I am sorry. I appreciate you coming here today, but I neither have the money to buy this from you, nor the desire to risk losing my family and my business. Men who go into the Hon-abrels don't come out."

"Lleu looked down at the necklace. "Monstrous beasts you say? Well I say that is superstitious nonsense." The disappointment of being rejected was visible in his expression.

Hamund offered, "Do not lose heart. Your situation is far from bleak." He laughed. "Truthfully, I envy you. You can take this necklace to Alidaan and sell it for more that what I profit in a year!"

Lleu did not look encouraged. "I admit that the idea of how much it could be worth has me excited, but there is more to it." He took the necklace and placed it back in his knapsack. For a moment, he did nothing more. He simply stood before the shopkeeper in silence. Then he said, "Perhaps I am too much a dreamer..." He paused to hang his knapsack over his shoulder, and then said in a lighter tone, "I suppose the necklace has awakened my boyhood curiosities and need for adventure again."

"There is more to it than that, though, isn't there."

Lleu looked at the shopkeeper almost sadly. "Do you ever ask yourself, 'What has my life been worth?'" He then sighed. "I have accomplished nothing, and I don't want to die...meaningless."

Hamund thought about the other's words for a short time. "I would not feel right with myself if I encouraged you to run off into those mountains, for my opinion is still that no good can come from it. But..." He paused while he debated whether or not to continue. "If you are determined, then perhaps I could at least point you in a more successful direction. There is a village called Pranow not far from here. Do you know of it?"

Lleu nodded. "I have heard of it."

"Go to Pranow and ask for a man by the name of Garst. He is the only one I know of that has gone into the Hon-abrels and come out again. And not just once. As I understand it, he lost a close friend to those mountains over a decade ago. He has been obsessed with finding that friend, refusing to believe he is dead. The poor fool lives a sad life, and he is doomed to die without ever seeing his friend again. But his wreckless disregard for his own life could prove useful to you, for he knows the Hon-abrels better than anyone."

Hope reappeared in Lleu's eyes. "Garst was his name?"

"The south road will take you to Pranow. The village is no more than a day's ride from here."

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

One Man to Bring Down Many / PART 1

Circa 195 n.t.

Zarognia, Brunity

In 194 n.t., King Breggon of Zarognia banished a man by the name of Ditrik Borzlan to the Mountains of Zarg. His specific crime to deserve such a punishment is unknown to most, but what is known is that Ditrik was a hateful and vindictive individual. Upon being released from his chains and left behind in the unforgiving Mountains of Zarg, Ditrik immediately journeyed north to the warlike city-state of Belosk. There he revealed the weaknesses of his mighty kingdom to the oppugnant warlord, Grulgar Guusdan, and his obese brother, Ondrei.

Grulgar, having watched the prospering kingdom to the south with covetous eyes, called forth his barbaric army and marched across the Edgard Bridge. Within a week they had laid two towns to waste, and left them in charred ruins. Rogan ships, docked at the town of Oszkaar, were used to take the barbaric horde down the Skie River, bringing them to the doorstep of Zarognofe, the Rogan's beloved capital on the island of Falrelv.

King Breggon led the defense, but when Grulgar's army proved to be far more aggressive than the Rogan king could stand up against, he retreated into Castle Falrelv...

Inside waited the traitor, Ditrik. King Breggon's son, Perion, watched from the top of a flight of stairs as his father was stabbed to death by the loathsome "Borzlan Fiend".

Prince Perion, a brawny young man of twenty years, was about to leap at his father's murderer, but was pulled back by his good friend, the Archduke Jaromir Ryszard. Chaos ensued as the horde from Belosk charged into the Castle Falrelv. Perion escaped with Jaromir's aid. But to where, no one knows but Jaromir, and the years of dungeon life since have not yet dragged the secret from him.

Six years later, two peasants stand at the head of an army. Vadik Stanslov and Rurik Peytr do not know if the true heir of Zarognia still lives, but they will overthrow the cruel Grulgar... or die trying. With luck, they will free the Archduke and learn of the heir's whereabouts. Zarognia will be free again, and peace will be restored.
But Rurik is losing hope, and his wounds have made him weak. They have won every battle thus far, but the fighting has always been at locations of their choosing, on grounds unfamiliar to the invaders. Now they stand on the shores of Lake Zarognofe, with their capital and Castle Falrelv on an island a great distance into the lake.
Their army currently hacks away at the forest behind them in order to construct ships, but Rurik fears the fortifications of Falrelv. He is not sure he wants this fight anymore.

Beside him stands Vadik...determined as ever.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)