Geral and Desidarious raced to the edge of White Raven forest, with no obvious path through the trees they were forced to rein their horses to a gallop in order to navigate through the thick foliage. The darkness of the forest weighed down upon them, as if slowly suffocating their souls. The only relief they received was from the occasional ray of moonlight that the tree tops would allow through. Geral realized that his human eyesight was now impaired by the complete lack of light, and turned to his other senses to keep himself alert. The two slowly switched positions giving Desidarious the lead, for it is believed that elven eyes can see much better in any situation. However the blackness of this night greatly challenged his ability. Once well into the forest Desidarious got the uneasy feeling that they were not alone. He scanned the area frantically, there are no forest sounds. No squirrels or owls, nothing that would be expected in the forest at night just, Silence. The feeling grew in strength until he felt no other choice but to ask. “Master, Do you feel as if we are not alone here?” Geral listened intently to their surroundings and then replied “Yes, now silence or you will give us away!” The two slowly pressed on; in the darkness they could hear the sound of leaves shuffling and twigs snapping. There is something in here with us, Desidarious’ heart races as he slowly palms the hilt of his new blade. He tried in vain to catch a glimpse at what was stalking them, but the night kept its secrets to well hidden. They continued for what seemed like hours until Desidarious slowed his pace at the edge of a large clearing in the woods. Through the darkness the dim aura of torch light was seen, Desidarious slowly whispered and motioned for Geral to look ahead. They both cautiously entered the clearing as another torch came into view by the river. Geral fixed his gaze to the first set of torches, as Desidarious fixed his to the one by the river preparing for any altercation.
The feeling of despair caused by the darkness lifted from their bodies once they both entered the clearing, the torch light they saw from the woods was now clearly visible. The fires to the left illuminated a modest mud and thatch house, the torch to the right was being used by a small boy who was fishing in the river. The two travelers being closer to the river slowly trotted to the boy. “Blessed night boy.” Geral said holding his hand up in greeting, “Blessed night to you as well sir.” the boy replied unusually calm to the sight of strangers. “We are travelers, on our way to the port near here. We have been riding for some time and would like to water our horses and rest our bodies, if it would be ok with you and your family.” Geral spoke eloquently as if the boy where royalty. “Well sir, this river is not owned by me or my family, so you may water your horses and rest on its shores as you please.” the boy replied while he continued with the task of baiting his hook. “I thank you young sir. Hopefully we will be but moments and then leave you in peace.” Geral spoke as he dismounted his steed, Desidarious followed slowly. The horses instantly head to the water once their riders release them of their burden, Geral and Desidarious rested in the grass and listened to the river rush by and watched the moonlight bounce off the water.
Desidarious looked to the boy and said, “My name is Desidarious and this is Geral. We thank you for your hospitality and would like to know your name as well.” The boy replied never taking eyes from his task “My name is Thresh.” Desidarious curiously looked to Geral and said “Well Thresh, could you tell us a little about where we are?” The boy tossed his line in the water and then placed his pole against a rock, he then turned and sat with the two “This is White Raven my parents and I came here awhile back; we work the fields for old man White Raven. Its mostly just woods and two houses, ours and the main house. It is basically peaceful except on nights like this.” “What is wrong with nights like this?” Desidarious asked. The boy glanced all around and then leaned into them “Werewolves. They come out on full moons and hunt. They tend to stay in the forest, but recently they have been attacking our live stock.” Geral slowly gripped his sword tightly at the mentioning of the creatures, “But that is an old story, told by parents to make their kids be” Desidarious was interrupted when Geral placed his hand against his chest. “They are not stories boy!” Geral spoke while he scanned the surroundings. “Really? Do you think it was them following us through the woods?”
Desidarious no sooner asked when a scream was heard from the house. Both Geral and Desidarious jumped to their feet and mounted their horses. Ridding hard toward the house they saw the boy’s mother running from the door screaming. Just to the side of the house a man was fighting something with a pitch fork. When the horses came into the torches glow Desidarious saw a form rise from the roof of the house. The silhouette stood twice as tall as a man and appeared to be covered in what looked like hair. It growled deeply and then leapt toward the mother. Desidarious leaped to stand on his saddle and with a push he jumped into the air with a flip. In one motion drew his blade slashed and landed. Behind him a large hairy body landed and was followed by its head. Desidarious turned to see what it was that he killed, and in the dim torch glow there it was the very thing he was saying did not exist - a Werewolf. Its head lying inches from of its body, a sizzling sound could be heard and from its wound a foul smelling smoke rose. Bewildered, the mother ran to Desidarious and begged him to save her husband; He glanced and saw Geral doing battle with another. Desidarious ran to aid his master but Geral yelled for him to help the father; He turned and ran around the house. There the father was doing his best to fend off the towering beast. Desidarious yelled at the beast to attract his attention. The beast whipped around and attacked. Its claws flailed through the air as Desidarious narrowly dodged them. The beast’s teeth were white and long, showing through its feral snarl. Its gold eyes narrow and menacing stared at him with vile intentions. Desidarious cautiously squared off with the werewolf; fear grew inside him like a well about to overflow. The attack was too swift. Desidarious was tossed from the large hand contacting his ribs, sliding across the grass he rolled back to his feet. The beast gave him no time to recover. As he was sliding, the creature leaped into the air for its next attack. Desidarious spun and pushed himself backward; narrowly missing its claws he drove his blade to the hilt through the chest of the beast. Once again the sizzling was heard, and then an ear throbbing howl as the beast slowly died. Desidarious stood; his ribs were sore from the battle as he retrieved his sword from the corpse; He quickly glanced to his master ready to give aide. Geral slowly stood after being tossed some sixty paces from his opponent; the Werewolf snarled as he prepared for the kill. Desidarious began running to intercept the attack, but it was too late. The beast leaped toward Geral, fangs bared and claws reared. Desidarious screamed as he watched. Geral pulled an arrow from his quiver, drew his bow and fired. The arrow entered the beast’s chest, penetrating the heart. Geral rolled to dodge the large mass hurling toward him. The body landed with a powerful impact as the werewolf writhed and howled loudly as the life slowly drained from it. Desidarious ran to his master and helped him to his feet, “Another good lesson boy. When it comes to werewolves, always use silver.” Geral said as he slowly began to dust himself off.
Once all was well, Thresh and his family insisted that Geral and Desidarious stay with them for the night to repay them. They agreed and sat to a hot meal and conversation. The boy’s father told them that there was something going on at the port, and that the people were acting unusually scarred. They continued into the night until it was time to sleep. The next morning, Desidarious climbed on his horse ready to leave when the boy’s mother approached carrying something wrapped in cloth. “For helping us last night I want you to have this.” She said as she handed the item to Desidarious. “Mam, I could not. Your generosity last night was more than enough.” He replied. “I insist!” She spoke as she removed the cloth. Desidarious reluctantly accepted the gift and saw that it was an elven throwing axe of the finest quality. On the handle were carved runes that he could not understand. “I thank you my lady, perchance might you know what these runes say on the handle here?” The lady simply shook her head no. “I see, thank you and may Gaia smile upon you all.” He replied as he put the axe into his belt and they continued their ride.
The forest on the other side of the clearing seemed much easier to navigate than the previous one. It only took them two hours to clear the woods and catch a glimpse of Raven Port. A small shack filled town, with buildings that appeared to be made of ship wreckage and whatever else the tides brought in. Once on the road, Geral began asking about how Desidarious learned his fighting techniques. Desidarious went on by telling him of the countless hours of training he endured as a result of his loss of control with Mulnar back on his Island home when he was a child. By the time he finished they were at the entrance to the town and Geral was much more informed about his new apprentice. They hitched their horses and began walking down the cobble stone street. They came to the dock entrance where a man stood leaning on a podium with a ledger. “Excuse me, sir. Could you possibly tell us where we need to go to charter a ship?” Geral said while the man stared at his book. “You will have to speak to one of the ship’s captains. I just collect the port taxes as they arrive. The gentlemen you need to speak to are in the Ale House most likely.” The man said while another ship slowly pulled into port. “Thank you sir” Geral responded as they both headed toward the Ale House. Before they stepped from the dock to the street, they heard the sounds of an anchor dropping and many foot steps on the dock behind them. Geral and Desidarious curiously turn to see a rather thin man, rough and ragged and dressed in what looked of Captains garb step off the newly ported ship. A few seconds later he is met by twenty more, they stand for a small amount of time condensate and then begin to head toward the tax collector. Geral thinks for a moment, and slowly walks to the assumed Captain and tries to begin a conversation with the man. Before he could say anything the sound of swords unsheathing caught his ears. Geral and Desidarious cautiously turn toward the dock exit and see thirty men wearing red sashes standing with swords drawn. They looked back toward the new arrivals and saw that they too have weapons drawn. “You owe us money Merrik!” The large leader of the red sash group yelled pointing his sword. “Aye! I do and you will be getting it just as soon as I get it.” The captain of the ship replied. Geral knowing that Desidarious and he were now trapped leaned to his apprentice and whispered “This is not a good place for us. If this goes bad defend yourself and try to work your way to the horses.” Desidarious nods in agreement. “That’s not good enough. I want the gold or your ship now, Merrik!” the leader yelled. “I already told you I do not have it Kell, and if you think your Crimson Vale gang will be takin my ship you best rethink it. No one sails her but me!” The captain replied as he drew his blade. Kell slowly drew his blade, as anger filled his eyes. “Screw you Merrik if you can not pay then your ship will make up the balance, attack!” Kell yelled as he and his gang rushed up the dock. The two leaders run head on, both unprepared for what was to come. Geral quickly drew his blade, and made contact with Kells sword hand. His blade spun through the air as the blows bone breaking damage caused him to release it. Desidarious quickly turned and planted a foot onto a pylon and leaped, flipping over the three and catching Kells blade. As if rehearsed the moment Desidarious landed, Geral’s next disarming blow hits the top of Merrik’s hand. The force drove his blade toward the ground handle first. Desidarious quickly slid his foot under the falling blade, catching and balancing it for a moment before kicking it into the air and catching it as well. With a quick spin of them both, the blades are driven deep into the wood decking as both Geral and Desidarious now stand facing each other with Kell and Merrik to their sides. Stunned, both groups stop in their tracks, “Who the hell are you two anyway?” Kell asks rudely. “My name is Geral Shale and this is my partner Desidarious.” At the moment Geral introduced himself, the sound of swords hitting the ground and feet running could be heard. Kell cautiously looked in time to see six of his men running out of town. A smile comes over Geral’s stone face as Kell returns eye contact, “I might have a better solution gentleman.” Geral said as he looked to Merrik. “With your permission, Captain.” Merrik still amazed at what he had just seen simply nodded. Geral looked to Kell and asked “How much does he owe you?” Kell looked around confused and replied “10,000 gold.” Geral nodded slowly and said “How about I pay that off for him as payment for a charter.” Geral looks to Merrik, as a look of surprise crossed his face. Kell points to Merrik and screams “No, this is his debt. He needs to pay not you. If he can not pay then I want that ship or his blood and that ship” Geral leaned in and calmly spoke “If killing each other is what you would rather do, then my friend and I shall simply let it happen. However the two of you have us in the middle, now there are two ways to go here. Either you both take this deal or you fight. If you fight you will force my friend and I to fight as well, and I will guaranty that before we both die you will both be looking for many, many replacements. Now think about it, but do it quickly.” Merrik quickly agrees knowing that he could not afford to replace and train new sailors. Kell reluctantly agrees, not knowing if he should push his luck to fight the two strangers, after seeing his own men flee from just the saying of the ones name and his friend’s acrobatics and blade skill.
The ship’s crew and the Crimson Vale Gang reluctantly sheathed their weapons. They all slowly dispersed as Merrik, Kell, and Geral stepped into the Ale House to finalize the deal. Geral counted out the gold turned to Kell and said “Well, It seems our business is done.” Kell slowly eyed Geral’s gold pouch, rubbed his chin and said “Yes, it sure does. Be seeing ya.” He then walked to the door and was gone, Geral turned to Merrik and said “We are need of a ship to take us to the Temple of Zehan, how long will we be at sea?” Merrik rubbed his beard and thought for a while and responded “Four days, give or take for weather.” Geral orders some drinks, they sit quietly enjoying the quenching of their thirst. After emptying his tankard Geral turned to Merrik and responded “When do we leave?” Merrik downs his drink, gives a belch and reluctantly replies “Anytime you wish sir.” Geral paid for their drinks and headed to the door, Merrik followed. They both exit into the street, Desidarious watched as they both slowly crossed while they chatted. Their conversation is interrupted when a familiar voice rings out from behind them “I will take the rest of that gold as well. Consider it payment for letting you live.” Geral and Merrik turn to see Kell and the rest of the gang standing behind them. “You have gotten all you are gonna get from me. Now, unless you wish to push the limits of what life you have left, I suggest you turn and leave now.” Geral responded while he and Merrik turned and continued their conversation. Kell drew his blade and raised it over his head for the attack. Geral spun his blade in hand just in time to hear a whistle and see an axe bury itself into the forehead of his attacker. Kell stood for a second as blood ran down his face. He staggered and eventually fell. At the sight of their fallen leader the rest of the gang cowardly scatters through the streets, disappearing into the forests and hills that surround the town. Geral and Merrik both watched as Desidarious walked to Kells body and retrieved his axe. Desidarious shook his head as he returned to the horses and lead them up the dock. Merrik leaned to Geral and said “Thank Gaia he is with us.” Geral nodded and replied. “You have no idea how true your words are, Captain.” Geral heads up the dock and helps Desidarious get the horses across the gangplank and into the ships cargo hold. Merrik stood for a while and thought that boy seems so familiar to m., I know I have met him somewhere before. Merrik slowly boards his ship The Abyss’ Embrace and yells “Weigh anchor boys and break port, our heading is north northeast.”
The crystal blue water of the Ishii Ocean slowly devoured the shores of White Raven as The Abyss’ Embrace gracefully slipped through the waves. Desidarious leaned over the side and stared into the blue depths, amazed at the numerous forms of life that he saw through the clear water. The reflection of the sun’s light danced off of the surface, causing him to slip into a form of hypnosis. Thoughts of his past and ideas of his future poured through his mind as something caught his eye snapping him back to reality. In the depths he saw the form of a woman swimming gracefully under the water. Her speed matched the ships exactly. He studied her intently, the sword strapped to her back! The sight drove him to stand and disbelieve his own eyes. It cannot be; she carries my father’s sword. Desidarious looked to find his master in hopes to verify his find but Geral was no where in sight. He quickly returned his gaze to the ocean. She was gone.
The event lingered in his thoughts distracting Desidarious. He was startled to see the splintering of the captain’s cabin door. He quickly turned to see a crew member lying amongst what was left of the solid oak door. Merrik quickly stepped through and onto the deck of the ship. “You dirty snake!” Merrik yelled as he pointed his saber at the man. He then glanced to the other crew members. “This scab of a man has threatened me with mutiny. He also says that he has your approval.” His stare was menacing as he slowly scanned the deck. “So, is he right? Are there members of this crew that want a new captain?” The hush on deck was haunting as the crew just stared downward like children caught in a lie. Merrik picked up the saber that his opponent once held and threw it. The blade tumbled through the air until it found the ship’s mast, sticking deep in the wood. “If there be any of you that want my ship, then draw that blade and take it from me!” The crewman that threatened Merrik jumped to his feet and took hold of the blade. “I, Remel Nugin will challenge for captaincy. We have sailed for you for years and we have nothing to show for it. Our sweat and blood has dripped to this deck to what end? For years he has promised us fortune and we have seen nothing. Now he has us sailing to deliver passengers for no profit, except to make right a dept he owes. Join with me friends and I will fulfill the promise that this would be captain could not!” The silence slowly turned to laughter and then fell to silence again as the second in command Makubi responded. “You, Join you?” You could not even begin to lead us back to the docks from here, boy! A compass is just as strange to you as the finer parts of a woman. I stay with Merrik!” The previously silent crew roared in agreement as Remel’s face fell ghostly white realizing his plan had already failed…he would have no aid.
A smirk crossed Merrik’s face. “Well now. Looks like you overestimated your position. I guess I will have some fun on this voyage after all.” The crew slowly stepped to the center of the deck forming a circle around the central mast of the ship. Merrik stepped into his cabin for a moment and then returned to the center of the makeshift arena brandishing a second blade sheathed on his back. He stood strong and confidant, sheathing his first saber at his hip. “You sure you want this, Remel?” He asked. “Definitely” Remel stated defiantly. “Very well” Merrik yelled; Remel slashed with his blade as Merrik slowly evaded and returned with a slap to Remel’s face. “You have a choice, boy. Would you rather die quickly or slowly? If you choose quickly you will die without suffering, but if you choose slowly there will be terrible anguish. Drop your sword and yield or keep fighting.” The look of understanding came across Remel’s face, as if he solved the riddle of Merrik’s words. Either way he was going to die unless he beat Merrik. Surprisingly Remel lowered his blade and knelt to the deck. Merrik nodded as he said “Smart boy.” Merrik drew the saber from his hip and swung to cleave Remel’s head from his body. The blade barley missed as Remel rolled to his back and kicked the sword from Merrik’s hand. He recovered to his feet quickly and stood at the ready as Merrik watched his saber tumble into the Ocean. “Damn, that was my second favorite saber!” Merrik yelled. “Now with the loss of your favorite blade, Merrik it is time for you to yield your ship, your captaincy, and your life.” Remel stated arrogantly. Merrik slowly turned his head and glanced to Remel, “Boy, if you want my ship or my life then you will have to take it from me. As far as my captaincy you will never be fit to captain a raft let alone my ship. Strike if you have the will.” Anger filled Remel’s face as he lunged. Merrik quickly strafed the blade. As it passed he kicked the blade loose of Remel’s grip, spun and kicked Remel in the face, driving him back into the mast stunned. “You did not listen to me, boy. I said…” Merrik quickly drew the second blade from his back, spun and buried it through Remel’s stomach pinning him to the main mast. “That was my second favorite saber. This is my first.” Blood spurted from Remel’s mouth as he screamed in pain. The new stench of rotting flesh overwhelmed the deck as Merrik turned his back to his foe and walked away. He calmly passed his crew and entered his cabin as Remel continued screaming. A look of terror came over Remel’s face as he began tearing off his shirt exposing his wound. From the onyx blade black lines began crawling through his skin and throughout his body. His skin slowly bubbled and ruptured as fluids and puss leaked from the sores. Flesh began to slowly fall off, exposing bone and internal organs. The crew stared in amazement and horror while a fellow crewman yelled between vomiting; “What vileness is this?” “He is rotting!” Merrik yelled, from his cabin and continued, “And thus will be the fate of any other who dares try to take my ship again!”
With the excitement passed and Remel’s corpse tossed overboard, the crew quickly turned back to working. Merrik stood at the helm with anger still radiating from his eyes. Desidarious calmly stepped to the captain and inquired as to where Geral was. “He is below deck. He retired there when that scum Remel came to threaten me.” Merrik responded. Desidarious politely bowed and thanked the captain as he was taught on his home land. Merrik quickly glanced and starred at Desidarious, a look of astonishment and recognition flashed across his face. “I have not seen that formal bow in seven years. Since that land is now destroyed, I did not think that I would see it again. Where did you learn it?” Desidarious equally as amazed that anyone would have recognized the traditions of his home land replied quickly “Geral taught me this. Why do you ask, Captain?” Merrik stared deeply into Desidarious’s eyes until he found what he was looking for. The anger left Merrik’s face and amazement came over him “I cannot believe it. You are the son of King Dueldin and Queen Alnora.” Anger and confusion welled up in Desidarious as he tried to figure out how this man knew; he palmed the hilt of his sword and demanded. “Sir, I have no idea how you know that, but you best begin explaining or your last deck hand will not be the last corpse that the beasts of the sea feast on this day.” Merrik quickly realized the position he placed himself in by speaking of such things. He cautiously stepped back and began to explain. “I meant no disrespect I swear. It is just that you have haunted me ever since I saw you. Your face seemed so familiar to me and until now I never could place it. I was the ambassador for the Mahai; I frequently met with your father, the King about matters concerning the treaty between the two. That is where I know you from young prince. But you would have been only eleven or so then. You have changed much since I must say, but it was the bow that gave it away. The minute I saw it I knew where you were from. I only guessed who you were when I looked into your eyes.” Desidarious noticed a small crack in Merrik’s voice and a tear form then fade as Merrik continued, “You have your mother’s eyes.” The captain’s very personal observation confused him but his previous words aided Desidarious’s memory; he knew that what Merrik spoke was true. He remembered a much younger and more refined Merrik conversing with his father on many occasions. “Very well, but you must never speak of me in that way again. I am a Ranger’s apprentice; my life on Devenshire ended when it was destroyed. I do not know why or by whom, so until I find out, speak that no one survived the destruction of Devenshire. Desidarious responded heavily as he relaxed his defenses. “As you wish, Desidarious,” Merrik answered extending his hand in friendship. Desidarious shook Merrik’s hand, turned and headed toward the stairs to find Geral. Although it was refreshing to find and ally, He could not relinquish the feeling that encountering Merrik, a man that knew of his lineage was more than just chance…it was fate. However, Merrik’s apparent familiarity with his mother caused him to suspect that the tapestry of fate in this matter was yet to be finished.
Below deck Geral stood grooming his steed. Desidarious entered the make shift stable and began to rant about the woman in the water. He then continued into the details of Merrik’s fight, and ended with the fact that Merrik knew who he was. When he finished, Geral never looked away from his task and simply spoke “The woman in the water could have been simply a vision, or she could have been real. It makes no difference either way because you have no way of knowing until it is your time to. The fight was not for us to be involved in. It was a personal matter for the captain and as long as this is his ship he is the law.” Geral stopped grooming and turned to Desidarious. “Now, as far as Merrik knowing who you are. I was aware that he suspected that he knew you since just before the fight broke out. That is what he was questioning me about when Remel barged in and interrupted us.” Desidarious calmly asked “Did you tell him who I was?” Geral shook his head and replied “No, I never acknowledged nor denied any of his suspicions as pertaining to you. I am sure you have forgotten young one, but I did swear to you that I would hold your secret. Questioning my honor does not become someone who just days ago stood to defend it. The fact that you did defend my honor then, in no way gives you the right to question it now or ever. This is a warning, boy. There will not be another.” Geral’s words cut deep into Desidarious and he felt ashamed for questioning a virtue that he knew was very important to his master ... Honor. “I should never have questioned your fealty to me, master. I swear my blood will stain my own blade before it ever happens again.” Desidarious said with conviction. “It is forgiven Desi, I am sure it will never come to such an end. You look exhausted. Lie down and get some rest. It will not be long before we arrive at the temple.” Desidarious nodded, found a comfortable spot and unpacked his bed roll. Using his saddle to rest his head he slowly drifted to sleep.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The Chronicles of Desidarious Devenshire the Path Begins
The broken body of Desidarious floated motionless in the wide expanse of the Stinare Ocean. From his wounds a trail of blood followed like a red fog in the water, and the hunters of the deep came to investigate. First they bumped him with their snouts just to see if it would move. When it did not, one of the sharks went further by sampling his leg. The great meat eaters content that this would be an easy meal, turned for a full on attack. Jaws opened as they drew closer to the prey. The blue water turned dark crimson; the thrashing churned the water and then calmed. The shark slowly slipped into the darkness of the sea twitching from the spear that had penetrated through it side, while the other slipped away in retreat.
From out of the depths two female Mahai effortlessly moved toward Desidarious. One of them slowly turned him to his back, exposing his face to the sky. “Does he live?” the youngest asked. The elder looked him over with a concerned look on her face and she replied. “Barely child, He is almost drowned and the salt of this water has drastically dehydrated him.” She softly placed her hand under his head and carefully placed her cold wet lips over his. After a few seconds the water from his lungs began to seep through her gills, until they were free of the salty liquid. “We must get him to land, young one. It is the only way he will survive.” The waves made little sound as the two of them guided his body toward the east.
In the hours that passed, Desidarious regained and lost consciousness three times. Each time he caught brief glances at his rescuers, and heard their conversations. He knew they were Mahai but did not recognize these two. He heard brief words of a sword that came from the surface and almost pierced the youngest one. He tried to respond, but his words only came in the form of grunts and moans. When the three came to a mile from the coast line, the oldest said “Little one, you stay here. I am going to get him closer to shore in hopes someone comes to help him.” The youngest simply nods, concern showing clearly on her face. The oldest slid beneath Desidarious and swam him slowly to the shore line. Once she reached a point where the shallows could easily rob her of concealment, she pushed his body toward the beach. She stayed just long enough to see him come to rest on the sands of the mainland. “Good luck, your highness.” she whispered lightly and quickly returned to her daughter.
His body lay, roasting in the midday sun like a fish washed up by the waves. The sun beat on his skin, slowly finishing the damage that the salty ocean had started. As he felt Death’s cold grasp around his body, he realized that he was being dragged. Two ruts marked where he had come from. The ruts subsided in depth as the pace of his rescuer hastened. His eyes faded and fell to blackness as he lost consciousness once more. He was then lifted and placed on a soft surface while excruciating pain shot through his body. Lost in the darkness and fighting for his life, he began dreaming of his family. His mother’s beautiful face and his father’s stern words and punishments. He saw Ula and her smile as bright as the stars. Then the pain returned once again.
Sweat poured down from his forehead as his fever raged. Then he felt a tingle slowly move up his arm and start to radiate throughout his body. When it passed he found that it was easier to breath. I can’t move anything, but thank Gaia; it is wonderful to breathe again. A sense of relief overcame him and he found himself daring to relax just in time to feel the pain once again. His vision was blurry through the slight openings of his eyes and he could make out a dimly lit canvas tent. A large man in leather armor was knelt beside him, working magic on his leg where he was bitten. His chest-length beard impeded the task at hand, causing him to mumble and swear under his breath. The man realized that Desidarious was watching and began to speak but was interrupted by the sounds of screeches and roars. “Gaia’s ghost! What in Zehan’s name is that!” the large man said as he stood and threw back the tent flap. Desidarious shook with fear as the light flooded his eyes and the form of the Black Dragon came into view screaming and belching flames. His fear gripped him tightly and shook his very soul. Memories of the devastation and screams rushed through his mind as the Dragon’s roars increase. Desidarious found the light adjusted to his needs in time to hear a different sound and the flight of another Dragon though the open tents flap...
Golden scales reflected the sunlight, giving it the vision of a halo surrounding its body. As the two hovered and squared off, the Gold Dragon lunged head first and grabbed the black one by the throat. Then it used its talons to tear at the black scales ripping them away. Hunks of flesh faded quickly leaving only a trail of smoke as they fell. Both great Dragons flailed and tore at each other in an epic battle, neither of them could get the upper hand. The Gold Dragon let loose a brilliant flame. The Black Dragon wailed, his wings ignited and faded into oblivion. What was left of his body fell furiously to the ground as the Gold Dragon dove in for the kill. It roared as it raced to meet its prey on the beach below. As soon as the Black Dragon’s body hit the ground, the Gold Dragon landed upon him and drove its talons deep into his fleshly torso. The force of the blow shook the very ground. Desidarious’ pulse raced at the sight before him. He watched as the Gold Dragon reared its head and with a roar engulfed its prey in a brilliant flame until there was nothing of the Black Dragon left. It stood proudly and thrashed its head in victory. Suddenly it stopped; it saw a wounded man with wide eyes lying in the tent a hundred yards away. The dragon bowed toward him almost as if it knew he was royalty. It could have been his imagination or his fever, but Desidarious was certain that he saw a hint of a smile and then a small wink from the beautiful Dragon as it took to the air and vanished. The pain returned and caused his body to convulse as he slipped into darkness once again.
The pain subsided, his body felt strong once more. He tried to move his arm, slowly it responded and then quicker as if it was never injured. His legs he tried next, then the rest of his body. The response was the same each time and slowly but surely he managed to sit up and then began to stand. Once up, he wobbled at the start but recovered almost instantly and walked to the opening of the tent and pulled the flap open. Sitting in front of a small camp fire, the large man looked up and said “Well, I see you have returned from Death’s grasp. My name is Geral and you are welcome here.” “Where am I?” Desidarious asked as he meandered toward the fire to sit on a log. “You are in Matadonia; I found you washed up on the beach. I assumed you were a sailor tossed from your ship in the storm so I dragged you to my tent and healed your wounds.” Geral responded as he leaned forward and lit his pipe from the flames of the fire. “I thank you for your generosity sir, but I have never heard of Matadonia. How long have I been here?” he asked as he looked around the foreign land. “Well, Matadonia is one of many provinces in this land of Allukra. Now, to answer your other question. It takes time to weave healing magics after all. Yours took me five months.” Geral quickly responded as he began to blow smoke rings. “Five months! Please forgive me, sir. My name is Desidarious, and I am no sailor. I am from the land of Devenshire, recently laid to waste by that dark beast we witnessed however many days ago.” Geral’s face became saddened at the news. “So will you be wanting to return there soon Desidarious?” he asked as he blew another smoke ring. “There is nothing left for me there. Gaia has set me on this path for a reason, so I must walk it.” The next few hours involved the men discussing the wonders and people of Devonshire, Geral’s time spent as a Ranger and a healer and the many trials and truths of adventures past and yet to come. Desidarious recalled painfully the tragic events leading to his rescue all while being cautious of his status as royalty. He did not want to give too much to this man, even if he had saved his life. But could he be trusted? Would his royal status matter to a Ranger? And would he be safe, to one day see Devonshire rebuilt and flourish as it once had? Darkness overwhelmed the beach as the campfire met its own demise. Desidarious let sleep overtake him without pain, but not before he slowly cast a glance in the direction of his lost home. I will return someday I swear it!
A week had come and gone since Desidarious arrived on this foreign land of Allukra. He stood on the beach watching the sun rise, in deep thought of what his purpose really was. Why am I the one to survive, and what do I do from here. While his thoughts raced, behind him the tent flap opened and Geral slowly emerged. “You are up early, boy.” Geral said as he stretched trying to shake the sleep from his body. “Yes. I could not sleep any more. I have too much on my mind right now.” Desidarious responded as he turned and slowly walked back to the camp. Geral stoked the fire to get the flames up to a good roar. Once done, he grabbed his bow and began to head to the woods to hunt for the morning meal. “Can I go with you?” Desidarious asked, hoping that he could be of some use to his newfound friend. Geral stopped and looked at Desidarious with a puzzled look, “Do you know how to hunt?” he asks. Desidarious looked to the ground some what embarrassed, “No sir, but I am a quick learner and would like to help.” Geral rubbed his beard pondering the thought and said, “Very well, you will flush the deer out of their bedding and get them to come to me.” Desidarious quickly stepped to Geral’s side, and quietly entered the woods for the hunt.
After some time the two exited the woods near the camp, Desidarious lagged behind from the extra weight of the large buck draped across his shoulders. They get to the camp and prepared the venison for cooking; Geral took a long wood spear and fastened the hunks of meat to it. He placed the spear across the fire and sat to watch it cook. “You did well this morning, Desidarious” he spoke as he pulled his pipe from his satchel and packed it with birch weed. “Thank you sir, it was a great experience.” Desidarious replied, proud of his accomplishment on his first hunt. A long silence overcame them while they watched hungrily for the meat to finish. Desidarious shifted to face Geral “I was thinking, what does one have to do to become a Ranger?” Geral set his pipe down and surprisingly asked “Why, are you interested?” Desidarious never losing eye contact replied “It has been on my mind, but I would like to know more before committing.” Geral tells of the city of Shalemorn, where he would have to travel to enlist as an apprentice. He tells of the years of service that must be endured before being considered to become a full Ranger, and of the oaths taken by all that accept the title. When Geral was finished Desidarious quickly asked “Could I become your apprentice?” Geral looked at him with sadness in his eyes and says “Nay, young one. I could not condemn you like that. Every apprentice I have had has died within their first year. It is because I only take the most dangerous assignments. Mine is not the life for many, and for most it is a life not long lived.” Desidarious looked to the ground trying to think of a way to change Geral’s mind. He quickly stood and boldly said “You have saved my life sir, and as payment I wish to become your apprentice. It is a boon I owe you and I will not falter. You can have me as an apprentice or as a tag-along. Which will it be?” Geral looked to the fire and slowly back to Desidarious and said “As you wish, but I warn you I am hard on my students. You will come to regret your decision today. Whether by choice....or by death.” Once the meat finished cooking, they both sat and ate their fill. Sitting back to allow the food to digest Geral looked to his new student and said, “If this is what you truly wish, Desidarious then I will have to test your skills.” Desidarious nods “As you wish, Master.”
The two stood and walked to the shoreline. They squared off as Geral began “We will start with hand to hand.” Geral lunged forward with a fist and swung hard, aiming for Desidarious’s face. Desidarious quickly ducked and came up from inside with a blow to Geral’s stomach. Geral stumbled back, catching his breath. He advanced swinging with his left and then right fists. Desidarious dodged each blow but lost site of his opponent in the brawl as Geral’s foot connected with his jaw. Desidarious fell to the sand, his jaw throbbing. “You are good, boy. But you need more practice I think.” Geral reached down to help his wounded student to his feet, Desidarious reached for his hand. Just when Geral pulled to help him up, Desidarious kicked Geral in the chest and spun on his hands, pushing himself into the air with a flip. He landed at the feet of his now fallen master. “I believe you are right, sir. My training was for fighting elves only. I’m sure there are many different styles that I will need to understand.” Desidarious pulled Geral to his feet. “Shall we continue sir?” Geral shook his head as he walked and retrieved two sticks from the beach. “Your skill is good, but how is your sword play?” Geral attacked with an overhead slash. Desidarious parried and spun to Geral’s exposed back. Geral spun and lunged, again his attacks were blocked. “Good, very good.” Geral stated as he found his stance, the two squared off once again. As Desidarious studied his master’s stance looking for a weak spot, Geral slowly spun the stick in his right hand. Holding the would be sword backwards allowing what would be the blade to rest against his forearm. “You do well in defense young one. How about in attacking?” Geral said, never taking his eyes from his student. Desidarious lunged with his weapon. Geral blocked his attack, his arm protected by the reverse hold of the weapon that allowed the blade to slide along the edge of his. Desidarious felt a quick sting as Geral’s weapon struck him in the side of the neck, “I’m afraid you need to learn more in this area as well, my boy.” Geral tossed the stick into the sand and buries it. Desidarious smiles and agrees, “So, will I do sir?” Desidarious asked as he felt a welt forming on his neck. Geral just nodded and turned to head for the camp.
The next morning, Desidarious and Geral woke early and broke camp. “Will we be heading for Shalemorn, Master?” Desidarious asked as he tied his bed roll to his side and threw a pack on his back. “Yes, it is a three day walk from here, so keep up.” Geral said as he began heading east. The scenery constantly changed the longer they walked. Forests become plains and plains become hills. The little town of Halloon passed by, bustling with people. They continued east toward Orcshire. Geral began to slow and took great care in his steps as they entered. “This is Orcshire. If we are found here we will have to fight our way through. Orcs do not like invaders and tend to get very nasty if crossed.” Geral whispered as they continued. Through the large expanse of forest they could see a camp fire roaring. Geral turned to Desidarious to tell him to be quiet and careful, when they heard a woman weeping. The two of them crept closer to the camp. They could see a young maiden bound and gagged watching in horror as four Orc prepare for a meal. Geral turned to Desidarious and used hand signals to usher Desidarious to continue on past. Desidarious shook his head and whispered, “We have to help her.” Geral shook his head and again ushered to go. Desidarious, confused by his new master’s reluctance stood his ground. Geral sternly pointed to the way he wanted them to go but Desidarious turned to continue. He followed the path that Geral pointed to, but then turned off the path to the left and slid behind a tree. Geral stared at him and shook his head. Desidarious in defiance grabbed a rock, stood and threw it at one of the Orcs. The rock found its target; it hit the largest of the four square in the head, rendering it unconscious. He yelled as he raced into the camp and tackled another of them to the ground. The other two, confused, turned and attacked. Desidarious kicked one of them into the fire and began beating the one that he tackled. Dark, black blood coated his fist as he crushed the Orcs skull with his blows. The last Orc latched hold of his throat and began to choke him. The Orcs grip loosened as the slim blade of Geral’s sword penetrated its back and continued through its chest. “I told you to go, boy!” Geral yelled as he withdrew his blade from the Orcs body. “I could not leave her to be eaten, and according to the creed, neither could you!” Desidarious replied as he wiped the dark blood from his hands. “I do not understand sir, you told me of the oaths and of the duties of a Ranger. But you were willing to leave this poor woman to be devoured by these things. Why?” Geral began to laugh as he knelt to free the woman. “Still yourself Desidarious, we would not have left her.” Confused, Desidarious asks “What do you mean?” Geral untied the young maiden and replied “You have been tested boy. If you would have left her as I instructed you would not have been worthy of the Rangers. Congratulations boy, you passed. But know this. There will be no more tests from here on. Never defy me or there will be consequences.” Geral removed the maiden’s gag and told her to go. She thanked them both and ran off into the woods. “It looks like we will have to get you a weapon my boy.” Geral stated as he drove his sword into the chest of the unconscious Orc. Still confused by the test, Desidarious just nodded. “Well, we can’t stay here. We need to get through Orcshire before we can think about resting. Here, you can use this to defend yourself until we get you a more suitable weapon.” Geral picked up a steel Orc sword and tossed it. Desidarious caught the weapon and tested its balance. It was crude but effective. The two turned and headed into the forest once more, taking care not to be discovered.
Through the night and most of the next day they walked, leaving the dark woods of Orcshire behind them. They decided to make camp by a river in the land of Mitovea. The sounds of the water rippled past slowly calming Desidarious. His nerves had been on edge since the fight at the Orc camp, his fist sore from the abuse it administered. He looked out into the river. Geral was in waist deep water trying to catch the night’s meal. Desidarious slowly stood and walked toward the edge of the river. “How far is Shalemorn, Master?” He asked. Geral quickly lunged into the water and came up holding a large trout. “It is up river, one days travel. If we camp here we will make it there by sunset tomorrow.” Geral walked to the camp fire and cleaned his catch. He took the viscera and discarded it, then tossed the body of the fish on the rock that he placed in the fire just before going into the river. Not long after they both sat and enjoyed their meal, Desidarious laid back and stared at the stars. While he admired the heavens he felt sleep overtake him.
The sun slowly slid through the sky and began to set behind the mountains that divided Mitovea from the province of White Raven. Geral and Desidarious, followed the river until they came to the edge of Lake Valor. “Ah.....there it is Desidarious. Shalemorn......the Rangers city.” Geral spoke softly as they both entered the lake’s shore. Desidarious scanned the area; his gaze followed the lake until it came upon the large landscape of the city. His expression was one of awe as he admired its beauty. They walked for an hour longer along the lakes edge, until they reached the gates to the city. Desidarious took notice of the guards posted to either side of the large gate, they watched intently as the two of them passed into the courtyard. “Master, why do they look at me in such a way?” he asked as they continued thru the city streets to the guild house. “You are a stranger, Desi. If not for me being with you they would have slain you before you got inside.” Geral answered not slowing his pace. Desidarious glanced everywhere trying to take this new place in as much as possible. The sounds of city dwellers and peddlers filled the market, trying to sell the year’s newest merchandise and goods. The streets were filled with many races, some of them familiar to him and others seemed very peculiar. He followed Geral through the market streets, winding to and fro through the large group of shoppers. His eye was caught by a glimmer. He turned to see a magnificent sword hanging from the rafters of a smith’s shop. The blade shone like a star in the night’s sky. The pommel was made of gold with a brilliant ruby encased in the handle. As he slowly extended his arm to touch the blade, Geral grabbed his wrist and said ‘There will be time enough for that boy. Come on.”
They came to a large building in the Northeast corner of the city. When they entered, Desidarious noticed a large group all gathered around a corner table. The sound of laughter and yelling heard from the group seemed to be a sort of celebration. “Well this is it, Desi. If you wish to be a Ranger all you have to do is go to that desk and sign up. Once done you will be asked to make your choice of a master. Just say that you choose Geral Shale. Oh, and don’t worry about the response you get.” He handed Desidarious a pouch heavy with gold and pointed him to a desk where a lone man sat. Desidarious slowly walked to the desk, “You signing up boy?” the man asked roughly. ‘Yes sir.” Desidarious answered as he bent down and signed his name to a large parchment and handed the pouch to the man. The man opened the purse and said “Well, who do you choose to be your Master, boy?” Desidarious looked to Geral. He gave a nod then exited the building. Desidarious turned and answered “Geral Shale is who I choose.” The man behind the desk dropped the pouch and his face turned a ghostly white. The laughing and yelling went silent and all now stared at him as if he had cursed Gaia. “Are you sure boy? That choice is one of suicide.” the man asked as he began to retrieve the gold that spilled from the pouch when it hit the ground. “I am!” Desidarious answered. The man shrugged and said “Very well.” Desidarious turned to walk back to his Master. “You must want to die young!” a voice bellowed from the back of the room, breaking the silence. Desidarious slowly turned his head to see a rather dashing man walking toward him. He was tall and rugged and wore the cloak of a Ranger. “Excuse me?” Desidarious responded. The man bowed and said “My name is Davian, and I said you must want to die young if you want to become Geral’s apprentice. He has lost four in the last two years, one of them my little brother. All because he only chooses the most dangerous of assignments, and all for his damned ideals of honor and glory in the Rangers.” Desidarious turned to face Davian, clenched his fists. His anger grew but he was able to hold it back and responded. “I am Desidarious. The loss of your brother cut Geral deeply. He has spoken of him many times during our travels. He has also spoken of you and your hatred of him for the loss. But never once did he ever speak ill of you as you have of him just now. I chose Geral because he saved my life and for that I will give him mine, if needed. If it be for his glory or for his honor, I would rather die in battle next to Geral then die next to you guarding stables and live stock. You have never even seen conflict. You have no wounds or scars and your blade has no blemishes. If you would like to prove me false, then I will indulge you. Otherwise, never allow me to hear of you dishonoring my Master again!” Davian fell silent and hurried aside to let Desidarious pass to the door. Desidarious stepped into the cool air and breathed deeply, proud of himself for defending his Master’s honor during his absence.
Once the thought of what just happened faded, Desidarious searched for his new Master. He wandered the streets skillfully scanning the crowd until he saw Geral emerging from a crowd of people carrying a large bag of sorts. They both meet back at the recruiting hall when Geral laid the bag at the feet of Desidarious. Confused, Desidarious looked at the bag and then to Geral. “Well, open it!” Geral said while pointing. Desidarious knelt down to retrieve it and the now open bag revealed some of its contents. Just the sight of it excited Desidarious. He reached in and removed a black, leather cuirass. His eyes widened at the craftsmanship. He then dove deeper and found gloves, boots, and grieves to match. Excitedly Desidarious scrambled to try them on. Once finished he stood to admire the armor. “It fits perfectly.” he said while twisting and squatting to test its maneuverability, Geral looked him over and nodded. Geral then produced a long item wrapped in green cloth and offered it to him. Desidarious accepted it with a bow. He carefully peeled away the cloth to reveal the very blade that Desidarious was admiring earlier that day. “May it hold strong, and protect you always.” Geral then turned and proceeded down the street. Desidarious fumbled frantically to attach the scabbard to his hip while yelling “Master!” Geral never broke stride as he continued on. Desidarious finally finished and ran to catch up. Once by his side, Desidarious thanked Geral for the gifts. “It is the least I could do for someone who defended my honor, Desi....Yes, I heard you in there. You did not have to do what you did but I thank you nonetheless.” They continued to walk until the chapel came into view. “What is that building, Master?” Desidarious asked while they continued their walk. “That is the Temple of Gaia. She is our patron and the reason we are who we are.” Geral said proudly. “Gaia? I had no idea that she would be worshiped here. She was our goddess as well. May I go and pay my respects to her, Master?” Geral nodded with approval as they both headed toward the temple.
The archway to the temple was the only entrance. As he walked closer, he noticed that the walls and ocularis were created with marble stones. The opening of the ocularis mimicked the outline of a fountain below. The floor consisted of shale and reflective tiles. Ivy grew through the aged tiles and continued along the walls to the edge of the domed ceiling. Gold and sliver veins danced with the moonlight. The inside was just as impressive. A perfectly circular room with rows of marble benches concentrically circled around the fountain. Desidarious was astounded at the beauty and simplicity of such a temple. He looked around, taking it all in, and then redirected his gaze to the only one statue of the goddess, standing in the middle of the fountain. Amazing, she looks the same here as well. Desidarious slowly walked to the row of benches just in front of the statue and sat. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the water coming out of the fountain and splashing back into the pool calm him. His mind cleared of all thoughts, he slowly felt himself becoming one with the world. Awhile passed before he felt that it was time to go. He began to stand when he heard “I heard your cries, my son.” Surprised, Desidarious stood quickly, sword at the ready. “You will not need your weapon, my boy. You have no enemies here.” the voice rang out again. Desidarious scanned the moonlit room until his eyes came upon the fountain. The water danced gracefully into the air and slowly began to take form. The water gave way and a beautiful woman stepped from the spray. Recognizing her instantly, Desidarious sheathed his sword and quickly fell to his knees. “Forgive me my lady; I knew not it was you.” Gaia slowly placed her hand on his head and said “All is well, my son. Stand and receive my blessing and listen.” Desidarious slowly stood to meet the deep, blue eyes of Gaia. “I heard your cries, Desidarious, but I could do nothing to help. Zehan, my father has ordered us to not interfere. I watched and cried as all I had created, and all you knew was swept asunder. You have a greater purpose in this world. That is why you have been spared your peoples fate.” Tears streamed down the face of Desidarious as she continued. “The path you are now on is what you must continue with. There are many things to be done. Learn well from your master and heed his teachings. You will one day be grateful for them. You will come across new people and cultures. Be aware of their customs and always be courteous of them.” Desidarious nodded. “Now before you go, I must say this. In many years to come, you will come across a creature who was a man. A creature who is a man will be the reason you meet him. This man will be just out of.....Reach. He must be brought back from the darkness that he has put upon himself, but he must never see the light. You will be the one to redeem him and bring him back to his true purpose thus setting you upon yours.” Confused, Desidarious strained to make sense of what he has been told, “My lady, can you give me a name or even a time for this meeting?” He asked humbly. “You will know when it is time. Now go and become what you must.” Gaia said as she turned and re-entered the fountain and faded into the water.
Desidarious returned to Geral and told him everything that just transpired back at the temple. Geral stood, seemingly unsurprised at it all. “Well, it sounds like you best be paying attention then, Desi.” Geral began walking again. Desidarious followed, still distracted by the riddle Gaia placed before him. They walked for awhile longer until they come to another hall. Geral and Desidarious entered. The many Rangers that came to get their next assignment stood waiting. Desidarious saw Davian standing in the corner starring at him with hate burning in his eyes. “Next!” the clerk yelled as the line advanced. Soon enough Geral and Desidarious came to the front. “Next!” the clerk yelled and Geral stepped to the table. “Ah, Master Geral. I see you have returned. So what will it be today? Typical protection of a village or guard duty?” Geral gave the clerk a stern stare that was answer enough. “Of course not, you don’t do those. Just the dangerous ones. Well, I have this for you then. It seems that a band of thieves have stolen a certain relic from the temple of Zehan and they would like it back. It pays 950,000 gold, half up- front and the other half upon delivery of the relic.” Geral nodded and took the scroll and the advance from the clerk. He turned and met Desidarious at the door. Geral handed some gold to Desidarious and instructed him on the type of supplies they would need for the journey, and then sent him to find them. An hour passed and Desidarious returned with the supplies. Geral had two horses saddled and ready. The full moon bathed the street in light as they packed the supplies and mounted their steeds. “How far is this temple sir?” Desidarious asked. “It is a two-day ride to the ocean and then a four-day boat ride to the temple. Once there we will waste no time. We will find the temple priest and get the information we need, then find these thieves and fulfill our assignment.” Geral responded while he settled in to his saddle. “Are you ready for this Desi?” Desidarious looked at his master and smiled. “I have never been more ready.” They spur their horses and headed north to the Province of White Raven.
Two figures stood in the shadows watching as the two disappeared into the night. “I do not care what the cost, I want them gone forever. You make sure of it or I will make you suffer, I swear it.”
From out of the depths two female Mahai effortlessly moved toward Desidarious. One of them slowly turned him to his back, exposing his face to the sky. “Does he live?” the youngest asked. The elder looked him over with a concerned look on her face and she replied. “Barely child, He is almost drowned and the salt of this water has drastically dehydrated him.” She softly placed her hand under his head and carefully placed her cold wet lips over his. After a few seconds the water from his lungs began to seep through her gills, until they were free of the salty liquid. “We must get him to land, young one. It is the only way he will survive.” The waves made little sound as the two of them guided his body toward the east.
In the hours that passed, Desidarious regained and lost consciousness three times. Each time he caught brief glances at his rescuers, and heard their conversations. He knew they were Mahai but did not recognize these two. He heard brief words of a sword that came from the surface and almost pierced the youngest one. He tried to respond, but his words only came in the form of grunts and moans. When the three came to a mile from the coast line, the oldest said “Little one, you stay here. I am going to get him closer to shore in hopes someone comes to help him.” The youngest simply nods, concern showing clearly on her face. The oldest slid beneath Desidarious and swam him slowly to the shore line. Once she reached a point where the shallows could easily rob her of concealment, she pushed his body toward the beach. She stayed just long enough to see him come to rest on the sands of the mainland. “Good luck, your highness.” she whispered lightly and quickly returned to her daughter.
His body lay, roasting in the midday sun like a fish washed up by the waves. The sun beat on his skin, slowly finishing the damage that the salty ocean had started. As he felt Death’s cold grasp around his body, he realized that he was being dragged. Two ruts marked where he had come from. The ruts subsided in depth as the pace of his rescuer hastened. His eyes faded and fell to blackness as he lost consciousness once more. He was then lifted and placed on a soft surface while excruciating pain shot through his body. Lost in the darkness and fighting for his life, he began dreaming of his family. His mother’s beautiful face and his father’s stern words and punishments. He saw Ula and her smile as bright as the stars. Then the pain returned once again.
Sweat poured down from his forehead as his fever raged. Then he felt a tingle slowly move up his arm and start to radiate throughout his body. When it passed he found that it was easier to breath. I can’t move anything, but thank Gaia; it is wonderful to breathe again. A sense of relief overcame him and he found himself daring to relax just in time to feel the pain once again. His vision was blurry through the slight openings of his eyes and he could make out a dimly lit canvas tent. A large man in leather armor was knelt beside him, working magic on his leg where he was bitten. His chest-length beard impeded the task at hand, causing him to mumble and swear under his breath. The man realized that Desidarious was watching and began to speak but was interrupted by the sounds of screeches and roars. “Gaia’s ghost! What in Zehan’s name is that!” the large man said as he stood and threw back the tent flap. Desidarious shook with fear as the light flooded his eyes and the form of the Black Dragon came into view screaming and belching flames. His fear gripped him tightly and shook his very soul. Memories of the devastation and screams rushed through his mind as the Dragon’s roars increase. Desidarious found the light adjusted to his needs in time to hear a different sound and the flight of another Dragon though the open tents flap...
Golden scales reflected the sunlight, giving it the vision of a halo surrounding its body. As the two hovered and squared off, the Gold Dragon lunged head first and grabbed the black one by the throat. Then it used its talons to tear at the black scales ripping them away. Hunks of flesh faded quickly leaving only a trail of smoke as they fell. Both great Dragons flailed and tore at each other in an epic battle, neither of them could get the upper hand. The Gold Dragon let loose a brilliant flame. The Black Dragon wailed, his wings ignited and faded into oblivion. What was left of his body fell furiously to the ground as the Gold Dragon dove in for the kill. It roared as it raced to meet its prey on the beach below. As soon as the Black Dragon’s body hit the ground, the Gold Dragon landed upon him and drove its talons deep into his fleshly torso. The force of the blow shook the very ground. Desidarious’ pulse raced at the sight before him. He watched as the Gold Dragon reared its head and with a roar engulfed its prey in a brilliant flame until there was nothing of the Black Dragon left. It stood proudly and thrashed its head in victory. Suddenly it stopped; it saw a wounded man with wide eyes lying in the tent a hundred yards away. The dragon bowed toward him almost as if it knew he was royalty. It could have been his imagination or his fever, but Desidarious was certain that he saw a hint of a smile and then a small wink from the beautiful Dragon as it took to the air and vanished. The pain returned and caused his body to convulse as he slipped into darkness once again.
The pain subsided, his body felt strong once more. He tried to move his arm, slowly it responded and then quicker as if it was never injured. His legs he tried next, then the rest of his body. The response was the same each time and slowly but surely he managed to sit up and then began to stand. Once up, he wobbled at the start but recovered almost instantly and walked to the opening of the tent and pulled the flap open. Sitting in front of a small camp fire, the large man looked up and said “Well, I see you have returned from Death’s grasp. My name is Geral and you are welcome here.” “Where am I?” Desidarious asked as he meandered toward the fire to sit on a log. “You are in Matadonia; I found you washed up on the beach. I assumed you were a sailor tossed from your ship in the storm so I dragged you to my tent and healed your wounds.” Geral responded as he leaned forward and lit his pipe from the flames of the fire. “I thank you for your generosity sir, but I have never heard of Matadonia. How long have I been here?” he asked as he looked around the foreign land. “Well, Matadonia is one of many provinces in this land of Allukra. Now, to answer your other question. It takes time to weave healing magics after all. Yours took me five months.” Geral quickly responded as he began to blow smoke rings. “Five months! Please forgive me, sir. My name is Desidarious, and I am no sailor. I am from the land of Devenshire, recently laid to waste by that dark beast we witnessed however many days ago.” Geral’s face became saddened at the news. “So will you be wanting to return there soon Desidarious?” he asked as he blew another smoke ring. “There is nothing left for me there. Gaia has set me on this path for a reason, so I must walk it.” The next few hours involved the men discussing the wonders and people of Devonshire, Geral’s time spent as a Ranger and a healer and the many trials and truths of adventures past and yet to come. Desidarious recalled painfully the tragic events leading to his rescue all while being cautious of his status as royalty. He did not want to give too much to this man, even if he had saved his life. But could he be trusted? Would his royal status matter to a Ranger? And would he be safe, to one day see Devonshire rebuilt and flourish as it once had? Darkness overwhelmed the beach as the campfire met its own demise. Desidarious let sleep overtake him without pain, but not before he slowly cast a glance in the direction of his lost home. I will return someday I swear it!
A week had come and gone since Desidarious arrived on this foreign land of Allukra. He stood on the beach watching the sun rise, in deep thought of what his purpose really was. Why am I the one to survive, and what do I do from here. While his thoughts raced, behind him the tent flap opened and Geral slowly emerged. “You are up early, boy.” Geral said as he stretched trying to shake the sleep from his body. “Yes. I could not sleep any more. I have too much on my mind right now.” Desidarious responded as he turned and slowly walked back to the camp. Geral stoked the fire to get the flames up to a good roar. Once done, he grabbed his bow and began to head to the woods to hunt for the morning meal. “Can I go with you?” Desidarious asked, hoping that he could be of some use to his newfound friend. Geral stopped and looked at Desidarious with a puzzled look, “Do you know how to hunt?” he asks. Desidarious looked to the ground some what embarrassed, “No sir, but I am a quick learner and would like to help.” Geral rubbed his beard pondering the thought and said, “Very well, you will flush the deer out of their bedding and get them to come to me.” Desidarious quickly stepped to Geral’s side, and quietly entered the woods for the hunt.
After some time the two exited the woods near the camp, Desidarious lagged behind from the extra weight of the large buck draped across his shoulders. They get to the camp and prepared the venison for cooking; Geral took a long wood spear and fastened the hunks of meat to it. He placed the spear across the fire and sat to watch it cook. “You did well this morning, Desidarious” he spoke as he pulled his pipe from his satchel and packed it with birch weed. “Thank you sir, it was a great experience.” Desidarious replied, proud of his accomplishment on his first hunt. A long silence overcame them while they watched hungrily for the meat to finish. Desidarious shifted to face Geral “I was thinking, what does one have to do to become a Ranger?” Geral set his pipe down and surprisingly asked “Why, are you interested?” Desidarious never losing eye contact replied “It has been on my mind, but I would like to know more before committing.” Geral tells of the city of Shalemorn, where he would have to travel to enlist as an apprentice. He tells of the years of service that must be endured before being considered to become a full Ranger, and of the oaths taken by all that accept the title. When Geral was finished Desidarious quickly asked “Could I become your apprentice?” Geral looked at him with sadness in his eyes and says “Nay, young one. I could not condemn you like that. Every apprentice I have had has died within their first year. It is because I only take the most dangerous assignments. Mine is not the life for many, and for most it is a life not long lived.” Desidarious looked to the ground trying to think of a way to change Geral’s mind. He quickly stood and boldly said “You have saved my life sir, and as payment I wish to become your apprentice. It is a boon I owe you and I will not falter. You can have me as an apprentice or as a tag-along. Which will it be?” Geral looked to the fire and slowly back to Desidarious and said “As you wish, but I warn you I am hard on my students. You will come to regret your decision today. Whether by choice....or by death.” Once the meat finished cooking, they both sat and ate their fill. Sitting back to allow the food to digest Geral looked to his new student and said, “If this is what you truly wish, Desidarious then I will have to test your skills.” Desidarious nods “As you wish, Master.”
The two stood and walked to the shoreline. They squared off as Geral began “We will start with hand to hand.” Geral lunged forward with a fist and swung hard, aiming for Desidarious’s face. Desidarious quickly ducked and came up from inside with a blow to Geral’s stomach. Geral stumbled back, catching his breath. He advanced swinging with his left and then right fists. Desidarious dodged each blow but lost site of his opponent in the brawl as Geral’s foot connected with his jaw. Desidarious fell to the sand, his jaw throbbing. “You are good, boy. But you need more practice I think.” Geral reached down to help his wounded student to his feet, Desidarious reached for his hand. Just when Geral pulled to help him up, Desidarious kicked Geral in the chest and spun on his hands, pushing himself into the air with a flip. He landed at the feet of his now fallen master. “I believe you are right, sir. My training was for fighting elves only. I’m sure there are many different styles that I will need to understand.” Desidarious pulled Geral to his feet. “Shall we continue sir?” Geral shook his head as he walked and retrieved two sticks from the beach. “Your skill is good, but how is your sword play?” Geral attacked with an overhead slash. Desidarious parried and spun to Geral’s exposed back. Geral spun and lunged, again his attacks were blocked. “Good, very good.” Geral stated as he found his stance, the two squared off once again. As Desidarious studied his master’s stance looking for a weak spot, Geral slowly spun the stick in his right hand. Holding the would be sword backwards allowing what would be the blade to rest against his forearm. “You do well in defense young one. How about in attacking?” Geral said, never taking his eyes from his student. Desidarious lunged with his weapon. Geral blocked his attack, his arm protected by the reverse hold of the weapon that allowed the blade to slide along the edge of his. Desidarious felt a quick sting as Geral’s weapon struck him in the side of the neck, “I’m afraid you need to learn more in this area as well, my boy.” Geral tossed the stick into the sand and buries it. Desidarious smiles and agrees, “So, will I do sir?” Desidarious asked as he felt a welt forming on his neck. Geral just nodded and turned to head for the camp.
The next morning, Desidarious and Geral woke early and broke camp. “Will we be heading for Shalemorn, Master?” Desidarious asked as he tied his bed roll to his side and threw a pack on his back. “Yes, it is a three day walk from here, so keep up.” Geral said as he began heading east. The scenery constantly changed the longer they walked. Forests become plains and plains become hills. The little town of Halloon passed by, bustling with people. They continued east toward Orcshire. Geral began to slow and took great care in his steps as they entered. “This is Orcshire. If we are found here we will have to fight our way through. Orcs do not like invaders and tend to get very nasty if crossed.” Geral whispered as they continued. Through the large expanse of forest they could see a camp fire roaring. Geral turned to Desidarious to tell him to be quiet and careful, when they heard a woman weeping. The two of them crept closer to the camp. They could see a young maiden bound and gagged watching in horror as four Orc prepare for a meal. Geral turned to Desidarious and used hand signals to usher Desidarious to continue on past. Desidarious shook his head and whispered, “We have to help her.” Geral shook his head and again ushered to go. Desidarious, confused by his new master’s reluctance stood his ground. Geral sternly pointed to the way he wanted them to go but Desidarious turned to continue. He followed the path that Geral pointed to, but then turned off the path to the left and slid behind a tree. Geral stared at him and shook his head. Desidarious in defiance grabbed a rock, stood and threw it at one of the Orcs. The rock found its target; it hit the largest of the four square in the head, rendering it unconscious. He yelled as he raced into the camp and tackled another of them to the ground. The other two, confused, turned and attacked. Desidarious kicked one of them into the fire and began beating the one that he tackled. Dark, black blood coated his fist as he crushed the Orcs skull with his blows. The last Orc latched hold of his throat and began to choke him. The Orcs grip loosened as the slim blade of Geral’s sword penetrated its back and continued through its chest. “I told you to go, boy!” Geral yelled as he withdrew his blade from the Orcs body. “I could not leave her to be eaten, and according to the creed, neither could you!” Desidarious replied as he wiped the dark blood from his hands. “I do not understand sir, you told me of the oaths and of the duties of a Ranger. But you were willing to leave this poor woman to be devoured by these things. Why?” Geral began to laugh as he knelt to free the woman. “Still yourself Desidarious, we would not have left her.” Confused, Desidarious asks “What do you mean?” Geral untied the young maiden and replied “You have been tested boy. If you would have left her as I instructed you would not have been worthy of the Rangers. Congratulations boy, you passed. But know this. There will be no more tests from here on. Never defy me or there will be consequences.” Geral removed the maiden’s gag and told her to go. She thanked them both and ran off into the woods. “It looks like we will have to get you a weapon my boy.” Geral stated as he drove his sword into the chest of the unconscious Orc. Still confused by the test, Desidarious just nodded. “Well, we can’t stay here. We need to get through Orcshire before we can think about resting. Here, you can use this to defend yourself until we get you a more suitable weapon.” Geral picked up a steel Orc sword and tossed it. Desidarious caught the weapon and tested its balance. It was crude but effective. The two turned and headed into the forest once more, taking care not to be discovered.
Through the night and most of the next day they walked, leaving the dark woods of Orcshire behind them. They decided to make camp by a river in the land of Mitovea. The sounds of the water rippled past slowly calming Desidarious. His nerves had been on edge since the fight at the Orc camp, his fist sore from the abuse it administered. He looked out into the river. Geral was in waist deep water trying to catch the night’s meal. Desidarious slowly stood and walked toward the edge of the river. “How far is Shalemorn, Master?” He asked. Geral quickly lunged into the water and came up holding a large trout. “It is up river, one days travel. If we camp here we will make it there by sunset tomorrow.” Geral walked to the camp fire and cleaned his catch. He took the viscera and discarded it, then tossed the body of the fish on the rock that he placed in the fire just before going into the river. Not long after they both sat and enjoyed their meal, Desidarious laid back and stared at the stars. While he admired the heavens he felt sleep overtake him.
The sun slowly slid through the sky and began to set behind the mountains that divided Mitovea from the province of White Raven. Geral and Desidarious, followed the river until they came to the edge of Lake Valor. “Ah.....there it is Desidarious. Shalemorn......the Rangers city.” Geral spoke softly as they both entered the lake’s shore. Desidarious scanned the area; his gaze followed the lake until it came upon the large landscape of the city. His expression was one of awe as he admired its beauty. They walked for an hour longer along the lakes edge, until they reached the gates to the city. Desidarious took notice of the guards posted to either side of the large gate, they watched intently as the two of them passed into the courtyard. “Master, why do they look at me in such a way?” he asked as they continued thru the city streets to the guild house. “You are a stranger, Desi. If not for me being with you they would have slain you before you got inside.” Geral answered not slowing his pace. Desidarious glanced everywhere trying to take this new place in as much as possible. The sounds of city dwellers and peddlers filled the market, trying to sell the year’s newest merchandise and goods. The streets were filled with many races, some of them familiar to him and others seemed very peculiar. He followed Geral through the market streets, winding to and fro through the large group of shoppers. His eye was caught by a glimmer. He turned to see a magnificent sword hanging from the rafters of a smith’s shop. The blade shone like a star in the night’s sky. The pommel was made of gold with a brilliant ruby encased in the handle. As he slowly extended his arm to touch the blade, Geral grabbed his wrist and said ‘There will be time enough for that boy. Come on.”
They came to a large building in the Northeast corner of the city. When they entered, Desidarious noticed a large group all gathered around a corner table. The sound of laughter and yelling heard from the group seemed to be a sort of celebration. “Well this is it, Desi. If you wish to be a Ranger all you have to do is go to that desk and sign up. Once done you will be asked to make your choice of a master. Just say that you choose Geral Shale. Oh, and don’t worry about the response you get.” He handed Desidarious a pouch heavy with gold and pointed him to a desk where a lone man sat. Desidarious slowly walked to the desk, “You signing up boy?” the man asked roughly. ‘Yes sir.” Desidarious answered as he bent down and signed his name to a large parchment and handed the pouch to the man. The man opened the purse and said “Well, who do you choose to be your Master, boy?” Desidarious looked to Geral. He gave a nod then exited the building. Desidarious turned and answered “Geral Shale is who I choose.” The man behind the desk dropped the pouch and his face turned a ghostly white. The laughing and yelling went silent and all now stared at him as if he had cursed Gaia. “Are you sure boy? That choice is one of suicide.” the man asked as he began to retrieve the gold that spilled from the pouch when it hit the ground. “I am!” Desidarious answered. The man shrugged and said “Very well.” Desidarious turned to walk back to his Master. “You must want to die young!” a voice bellowed from the back of the room, breaking the silence. Desidarious slowly turned his head to see a rather dashing man walking toward him. He was tall and rugged and wore the cloak of a Ranger. “Excuse me?” Desidarious responded. The man bowed and said “My name is Davian, and I said you must want to die young if you want to become Geral’s apprentice. He has lost four in the last two years, one of them my little brother. All because he only chooses the most dangerous of assignments, and all for his damned ideals of honor and glory in the Rangers.” Desidarious turned to face Davian, clenched his fists. His anger grew but he was able to hold it back and responded. “I am Desidarious. The loss of your brother cut Geral deeply. He has spoken of him many times during our travels. He has also spoken of you and your hatred of him for the loss. But never once did he ever speak ill of you as you have of him just now. I chose Geral because he saved my life and for that I will give him mine, if needed. If it be for his glory or for his honor, I would rather die in battle next to Geral then die next to you guarding stables and live stock. You have never even seen conflict. You have no wounds or scars and your blade has no blemishes. If you would like to prove me false, then I will indulge you. Otherwise, never allow me to hear of you dishonoring my Master again!” Davian fell silent and hurried aside to let Desidarious pass to the door. Desidarious stepped into the cool air and breathed deeply, proud of himself for defending his Master’s honor during his absence.
Once the thought of what just happened faded, Desidarious searched for his new Master. He wandered the streets skillfully scanning the crowd until he saw Geral emerging from a crowd of people carrying a large bag of sorts. They both meet back at the recruiting hall when Geral laid the bag at the feet of Desidarious. Confused, Desidarious looked at the bag and then to Geral. “Well, open it!” Geral said while pointing. Desidarious knelt down to retrieve it and the now open bag revealed some of its contents. Just the sight of it excited Desidarious. He reached in and removed a black, leather cuirass. His eyes widened at the craftsmanship. He then dove deeper and found gloves, boots, and grieves to match. Excitedly Desidarious scrambled to try them on. Once finished he stood to admire the armor. “It fits perfectly.” he said while twisting and squatting to test its maneuverability, Geral looked him over and nodded. Geral then produced a long item wrapped in green cloth and offered it to him. Desidarious accepted it with a bow. He carefully peeled away the cloth to reveal the very blade that Desidarious was admiring earlier that day. “May it hold strong, and protect you always.” Geral then turned and proceeded down the street. Desidarious fumbled frantically to attach the scabbard to his hip while yelling “Master!” Geral never broke stride as he continued on. Desidarious finally finished and ran to catch up. Once by his side, Desidarious thanked Geral for the gifts. “It is the least I could do for someone who defended my honor, Desi....Yes, I heard you in there. You did not have to do what you did but I thank you nonetheless.” They continued to walk until the chapel came into view. “What is that building, Master?” Desidarious asked while they continued their walk. “That is the Temple of Gaia. She is our patron and the reason we are who we are.” Geral said proudly. “Gaia? I had no idea that she would be worshiped here. She was our goddess as well. May I go and pay my respects to her, Master?” Geral nodded with approval as they both headed toward the temple.
The archway to the temple was the only entrance. As he walked closer, he noticed that the walls and ocularis were created with marble stones. The opening of the ocularis mimicked the outline of a fountain below. The floor consisted of shale and reflective tiles. Ivy grew through the aged tiles and continued along the walls to the edge of the domed ceiling. Gold and sliver veins danced with the moonlight. The inside was just as impressive. A perfectly circular room with rows of marble benches concentrically circled around the fountain. Desidarious was astounded at the beauty and simplicity of such a temple. He looked around, taking it all in, and then redirected his gaze to the only one statue of the goddess, standing in the middle of the fountain. Amazing, she looks the same here as well. Desidarious slowly walked to the row of benches just in front of the statue and sat. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the water coming out of the fountain and splashing back into the pool calm him. His mind cleared of all thoughts, he slowly felt himself becoming one with the world. Awhile passed before he felt that it was time to go. He began to stand when he heard “I heard your cries, my son.” Surprised, Desidarious stood quickly, sword at the ready. “You will not need your weapon, my boy. You have no enemies here.” the voice rang out again. Desidarious scanned the moonlit room until his eyes came upon the fountain. The water danced gracefully into the air and slowly began to take form. The water gave way and a beautiful woman stepped from the spray. Recognizing her instantly, Desidarious sheathed his sword and quickly fell to his knees. “Forgive me my lady; I knew not it was you.” Gaia slowly placed her hand on his head and said “All is well, my son. Stand and receive my blessing and listen.” Desidarious slowly stood to meet the deep, blue eyes of Gaia. “I heard your cries, Desidarious, but I could do nothing to help. Zehan, my father has ordered us to not interfere. I watched and cried as all I had created, and all you knew was swept asunder. You have a greater purpose in this world. That is why you have been spared your peoples fate.” Tears streamed down the face of Desidarious as she continued. “The path you are now on is what you must continue with. There are many things to be done. Learn well from your master and heed his teachings. You will one day be grateful for them. You will come across new people and cultures. Be aware of their customs and always be courteous of them.” Desidarious nodded. “Now before you go, I must say this. In many years to come, you will come across a creature who was a man. A creature who is a man will be the reason you meet him. This man will be just out of.....Reach. He must be brought back from the darkness that he has put upon himself, but he must never see the light. You will be the one to redeem him and bring him back to his true purpose thus setting you upon yours.” Confused, Desidarious strained to make sense of what he has been told, “My lady, can you give me a name or even a time for this meeting?” He asked humbly. “You will know when it is time. Now go and become what you must.” Gaia said as she turned and re-entered the fountain and faded into the water.
Desidarious returned to Geral and told him everything that just transpired back at the temple. Geral stood, seemingly unsurprised at it all. “Well, it sounds like you best be paying attention then, Desi.” Geral began walking again. Desidarious followed, still distracted by the riddle Gaia placed before him. They walked for awhile longer until they come to another hall. Geral and Desidarious entered. The many Rangers that came to get their next assignment stood waiting. Desidarious saw Davian standing in the corner starring at him with hate burning in his eyes. “Next!” the clerk yelled as the line advanced. Soon enough Geral and Desidarious came to the front. “Next!” the clerk yelled and Geral stepped to the table. “Ah, Master Geral. I see you have returned. So what will it be today? Typical protection of a village or guard duty?” Geral gave the clerk a stern stare that was answer enough. “Of course not, you don’t do those. Just the dangerous ones. Well, I have this for you then. It seems that a band of thieves have stolen a certain relic from the temple of Zehan and they would like it back. It pays 950,000 gold, half up- front and the other half upon delivery of the relic.” Geral nodded and took the scroll and the advance from the clerk. He turned and met Desidarious at the door. Geral handed some gold to Desidarious and instructed him on the type of supplies they would need for the journey, and then sent him to find them. An hour passed and Desidarious returned with the supplies. Geral had two horses saddled and ready. The full moon bathed the street in light as they packed the supplies and mounted their steeds. “How far is this temple sir?” Desidarious asked. “It is a two-day ride to the ocean and then a four-day boat ride to the temple. Once there we will waste no time. We will find the temple priest and get the information we need, then find these thieves and fulfill our assignment.” Geral responded while he settled in to his saddle. “Are you ready for this Desi?” Desidarious looked at his master and smiled. “I have never been more ready.” They spur their horses and headed north to the Province of White Raven.
Two figures stood in the shadows watching as the two disappeared into the night. “I do not care what the cost, I want them gone forever. You make sure of it or I will make you suffer, I swear it.”
The Chronicles of Desidarious Devenshire Reflections
The sun rises and falls, as doe’s life. It is not our place to know life’s wants or reasons. It is for us to live to the best of our ability and never falter. Sacrifice when we must and help all in need.
Those are the thoughts that are running through the mind of this half elf, as he is standing on a precipice some 385 feet overlooking the remains of a long since destroyed land. His land, his home, now covered in lush forest. Large remnants of standing pillars are now covered with twisting vines. A shiver travels up his spine, as the memories flood his mind one after another. His large black stallion sensing his heartache slowly nudges his elbow with his snout. “It’s ok Inferno, its just memories.” he says as he places his hand on the large face of the stallion and patting his large front shoulder. Inferno gives a snort and begins pulling at some grass on the ground. The half elf looks over the landscape one last time, and sees the remnants of his home from long ago. As his mind takes over, an image begins to appear and the world around him begins to dissolve into nothing.
When his mind’s eye clears he sees the beautiful city of Dueldinar, The only city on this large island of mountainous forests. The spires of the castle reach to the sky almost as high as the tallest mountain, shimmering like gold on a sunny day. The homes littered the landscape all around the castle, their chimneys emitting the Smokey smell of mulberry wood burning. In the center of the city stands the chapel of Gaia, the goddess of the land. Its walls beautifully decorated with statues and effigies in honor to she who birthed the land and all on it. Cobblestone streets weave through the city like a tapestry. All of them join at the only entrance where the market stands. Near the market, a boy of near thirteen stands sweeping a walkway that leads to the house where his master and teacher of magic lives.
“Desidarious!” A young elf girl yelled as she ran her way up the stone walk to a tall semi- large framed boy. The boy engrossed in his days labors was far to busy to hear her, until she slapped him on the shoulder and said “Desidarious! I know you heard me, stop ignoring me, right now!” Desidarious shrugged back and rubbed his stinging shoulder saying “well hello Ula, I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just trying to get my chores done so we could go and play.” “Well are you done yet? Mulnar told me of a new cave that we can explore, but we have to get there before him and his scruffy friends!” Desidarious looked up at the sun and saw that it is well after midday. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be exploring caves Ula? I mean, if the sun falls while we are in there we won’t be able to find our way out.” Ula shrugged her shoulders and said playfully, “Don’t be so lame Desi." That’s the whole point of exploration. It’s the danger you know.” Desidarious not wanting to seem afraid walked into the house and asked his teacher if he needed anything else. He received his leave and the two of them took off for the cave.
As they made their way to the cave Ula asked “So what is going on with the negotiations between the king and the water people Desi?” Desidarious showing the annoyance on his face of such a question replied “They go well. My father and the Mahai as they like to be called have come to an accord. We allow them to perform their rights of age in our forests and they allow us to fish in their waters.” Ula noticed Desidarious’s annoyance and reluctantly asked “What is a right of age?” Becoming more and more annoyed he replied “When a Mahi comes into adulthood they are sent to the land to hunt. They are to battle with a foreign creature in a foreign land, and they must return with proof of their battle. Once done they are presented with their armor and weapon of choice and join the ranks of the military.” Ula satisfied with his response smiled and looked to the sky and then said “This is where Mulnar said the cave is, but I don’t see it.” Just then a rock struck Desidarious on his face splitting his lip and bruising his cheek. “What’s wrong half breed? Did that hurt?” The voice rang out from behind a row of trees. Desidarious turned to see Mulnar and four of his friends standing next to a pile of rocks. Angrily Ula yelled “You dirty snake, you tricked me so I would bring Desi here so you all could fight him!” Mulnar smiled and tossed the rock in his hand. “What? You think I told you that because I liked you? Come on, Ula. You are so damn gullible! You run with this half breed highness instead of your own kind, and you wonder why we don’t want you around us? How pathetic!”
Desidarious wiped the blood from his cheek and mouth, and then spit what was left in his mouth onto the hard ground. “Well! There is a little fight in you after all, half breed. I’m surprised.” Mulnar said as he tossed the rock up and caught it over and over. The rage welled up in Desidarious until he could not control it any more. The stone Mulnar was tossing left his hand once more, then sat motionless in the air longer than gravity would have allowed it. Mulnar and his friends slowly backed away, surprised at what was happening, but not enough to run. It would be their mistake. Desidarious was known for his weakness in the area of magic, but this action took them unaware. The stone, motionless in the air then flew effortlessly and hit Mulnar square between the eyes; breaking his nose and blowing open the skin of his brow. As he flew backward, blood spurted from his wound. Mulnar wailed in pain and writhed on the ground. The other boys took off, never looking back and abandoning their friend. Desidarious slowly walked to Mulnar and stood over him. “Every time you call me half breed you curse my mother. I have stood and taken it for the last time! And you have said it for the last time!” Desidarious jumped on his victim and grabbed him around his neck with both hands, trying to slowly and steadily squeeze the life from him. Just as it looked as if he would finish his deed, Ula grabbed him and tossed him to the ground.
“Have you lost your mind, Desi? You could have killed him!” Ula said her look of shock and amazement brought Desidarious back to his senses. “I.....I am sorry. I do not know what came over me.” Desidarious responded attempting to grasp what just happened. “I thought you were a decent person Desi, but I guess I was wrong. Do not come near me again, ever!” Ula shouted as she turned to help Mulnar to his feet and escorted him back to Dueldinar. Desidarious slowly stood and walked back alone feeling terrible for his response to the situation. As he entered the gates to the city he saw Ula and Mulnar standing amongst a large crowd all gathered around the king. Desidarious walked to his father and stared at the ground. “I am sorry Father, I lost control. It will never happen again.” King Dueldin stared at his son, his eyes full of rage. “You have no idea how true that is.” He looked to his captain and said “Take him to the post.” A shock rushed through the crowd and Ula began to cry.
The captain escorted Desidarious to the front of the castle. There stood an eight- foot post with leather straps hanging from the top. Desidarious was placed facing the post as his hands were tied above his head. The king then exclaimed “My son has committed a crime, a crime that will not be tolerated not even by royalty. The punishment is eight lashes!” Desidarious screamed as the whip cracked against his back. He could feel the skin split upon every lash. Just when his body and mind were ready to give way, the eighth lash was delivered. He collapsed against the post as he started to shake from the pain of his torso lengthening. His body stung from the lashes, but not as much as his pride of being beaten in front of the people, and his father. With the punishment done the guards untied him and carried him to his chamber in the castle. When he regained consciousness he saw his mother sitting next to him rocking. Tears falling slowly down her face; her human features looked so beautiful in the light of the candles that she seemed almost godlike. As Desidarious slowly tried to move, the Queen helped him to sit up. “I am sorry mother. I do not know what came over me.” Queen Alnora responded gently, almost at a whisper. “It is called rage, Desidarious. It is common among humans but not as much in elves. Your father wants you to be more elf than human, my son. That is why he was so hard on you. But I know why you did it and I thank you for standing up for my honor.” The queen bent and kissed him on the forehead and laid him back to rest. She gave him a smile, then turned and left.
The next morning Desidarious awoke to his father standing at the foot of his bed staring at him. “Yes, father?” Desidarious reluctantly spoke. “You have embarrassed me son, and for this the lashes are not the only price you will pay. You are hereby confined to this castle until your eighteenth birthday. You will study the ways of the elves and all of your learning will be done within these walls. Do you understand?” King Dueldin spoke firmly as if he had no emotions. Desidarious felt the rage well up inside him again. “Why can’t he understand Mulnar was the one that started this mess?” He thought to pursue this thinking, but responded “as you wish father.”
The years passed one by one, and with each Desidarious learned more and mastered much of his teachings. At eighteen, he had become a master of hand to hand fighting, sword fighting, magic, and smithing. But through all of this, he had longed to be near Ula. One morning the king visited his son and told him that he had served his sentence and may now leave the castle grounds. Elated, Desidarious bolted through the long halls down the stairs and through the portcullis where the town bustled with life. He took in a deep breath as if he had never smelled fresh air in his whole life, and happiness welled up inside him. He was glad to be out of his prison and never wanted to return. He walked through the streets greeting every one that he passed. His greetings fell short to those that still remembered his crimes, and instead of a smile or nod, they would spit upon the ground or not acknowledge the thought of his existence. Today however, he refused to allow it to ruin his mood. He was on a mission.
He walked past the market and turned right down an alley, where he could see Ula’s house. A modest but lovely home. He knocked, and a tall thin man answered responding “Well hello there, Desidarious. What brings you here?” Excited to finally apologize and repair his friendship he asked “Is Ula home sir?” Ula’s father scowled and replied. “I am sorry, Desidarious but she left with Mulnar and his group a year ago. She wanted to explore the world. We told her no, but she left in defiance of our wishes.” Desidarious puzzled and crushed asked “You would not by chance know where they might of gone would you, sir?” Ula’s father just shook his head and sadly closed the door. Desidarious turned and walked to the gates of the city. As he looked out over the plains to the ocean beyond he wondered where Ula might be and allowed his mind to drift off. Why would she leave like that?
In a far away land six travelers found themselves standing at a large canyon with the orange glow of lava running like a river two hundred feet below, staring across at an enormous mountain. To the right, they could hear the sound of water falling and crashing against the lava. The steam they could see throughout the cavern rose into the air making the atmosphere almost unbearable. “What now!” Ula stated aggravated and tired from their travels. It had been almost one year since they all left the Island of Devonshire in search of treasures and excitement. “Well, we have to cross this somehow. The mage told us that the shadow root is in a cave somewhere in the center of that mountain. If we can get it, he said he would make us richer than any king alive!” Mulnar said as he scanned the great expanse for a way across. Just then the steam waned, and revealed the entrance. Through the side of the mountain an opening was seen, all six of them stepped back in awe of what they saw. The large, menacing skull of a dragon with its mouth open wide, revealed the path.
“Gaia, save us!” Ulah gasped as she stood staring at the boney remains of one of the largest dragons ever seen. From behind them a voice boomed “That place is cursed!” Their hearts dropped as they all jumped and spun. Standing behind them is a tall, thin, elderly man dressed as if he had not seen a civilized society in years. Catching his breath, Mulnar responded “What do you know of it, old man!” The traveler simply glanced at all of them and said “This place is called Dragons Fell. It is the final resting place for those fantastic creatures that once ruled our land long before us all. It is not a place for intruders and treasure seekers. You would be wise to leave this place while you can.” The six seekers began to look amongst themselves as if they would take his advice, but then Mulnar spoke up “Well, I am not afraid of any stupid curse or superstitions! If you know how to get across you had best tell me old man, or I will cut you from gut to throat!” The old man shrugged and said, “As you wish.” He walked to the edge and closed his eyes. A few minutes passed, and then the sound of cracking rock was heard. A shard of the shelf that they all were standing on separated and floated weightlessly in front of them. “Climb on, if you are going. This will take you there and return you when you are done. That is, if you live.” The old man said with a smile. Mulnar, Ula and the others stepped onto the floating rock. It slowly began to glide across the expansive canyon drawing closer to the jaws of the door to Dragons Fell.
“I don’t like this Mulnar!” Ula proclaimed as the shard of rock that they were standing on made contact with the immense lower jaw of the skull. “Don’t be a child Ula!” Mulnar chastised as he stepped into the gaping mouth and headed into the opening as the rest of them followed. The opening spilled into a bowl shaped valley, the top open to the sky. It did not take Ula long to realize they were standing in the middle of a giant volcano. As they walked, the sound of the crust cracking under their feet became greatly amplified by the acoustics of the rock walls that surround them. All around lay the remains of Dragons who came to take their final breath, and join with the energies of the land. The heat was unbearable as it seeped through the cracks in the crust that had formed over the volcanic lava beneath them, giving off a dark orange glow. The party made their way to the center of the large crater where a large pile of ash stood. “Where is it?” Mulnar exclaimed as his eyes scanned the area. “There!” Ula pointed to a cave halfway up the face of the rock, “Good eyes, Ula!” Mulnar complimented her as he began walking to the area where the cave resided. Once there, they began climbing the sharp rocks a hundred feet to the cave’s ledge. As they entered, the smell of sulphur permeated their nostrils. The smell made a couple of them gag and convulse but they pressed on.
After two hours of walking the cavern they came to an intersection. The path they were on continued but there was now another intersecting to the right. “Where now?” one of the elves yelled out. “Well, let us go right. I bet if we keep going straight the path will lead to another exit on the other side of the crater.” Mulnar said as he led the party down the path to the right. Ten minutes later they came to what looked like some kind of alter. There was a stone protruding from the wall, dimly lit buy their torches. An image was drawn on the wall of what looked to be a black Dragon; a strange plant grew through the rock. “That must be it!” Mulnar exclaimed and then grabbed the plant and pulled, but the plant did not budge. “Come on, help me! You all want to be rich do you not?” Mulnar yelled. Reluctantly, Ula and the others grabbed and pulled at the plant. After a little time the plant came free. Mulnar looked at the black exterior of the root and said “This is what the mage said he wanted, it is just as he described!” Ula, looking confused asks “This is worth more money than any king has? It looks like a rotten potato but uglier.”
They stood looking at the root for awhile, and then slid it into Mulnar’s pack. They turned to leave, when the cave began to shake. Something that looked like oil began to seep from the hole where the root came from and the cave started to shake violently. Rocks from above began to fall. “Go! Get out of here!” Mulnar yelled and the group turned and ran the way they came. From the alter, black smoke poured out and filled the cavern. Once the group got out of the cave and down to the bottom of the rock wall, Ula turned. What she saw chilled her to the bone. The smoke exiting the cave began to rise and take shape. The shape of an immense dragon. Blacker than midnight, with its body almost transparent, it was as if it was made of the smoke its self. A voice boomed in their heads, almost crushing their minds. “Free! I am free at last! You are the chosen!” Ula holding her head in pain managed to yell “Chosen? For what?” The ghostly dragon replied, “Chosen to free me, and chosen to be the last to die. For your greed, you will witness as I eradicate your race from this land, consuming them in black fire. And damning your souls for all eternity! Once I am finished, I will come for you to seal your fate and deliver you to the blackness!” With that, the Dragon screamed through the air leaving the six in crushing pain. Trying to regain her composure, Ula stood wearily and said “What have we done?”
On the Island of Devenshire, Desidarious stood at the city gates staring at the open ocean. The waves steadily beating against the shore seemed to calm his soul. He looked farther out to sea where the local fishermen were hard at their work. The sun gleamed off their sails like little pearls in the ocean; I wish Ula was here to see this he thought.
Just as he turned to leave, the western wind suddenly picked up, the ocean began to churn and chop angrily. The warm sunlight faded to darkness as a sudden storm seemed to have arrived. Desidarious snapped his glance back to the fishing boats that were suddenly being thrown about like pieces of driftwood. The sails have been dropped and the men on the boats had forsaken their nets to take to the oars to try desperately to reach the shore. The sound of thunder was heard in the distance as he anxiously waited to see if the fisherman would arrive safely. Another crash of thunder sounded even closer than before. But this time the sound was different. It was more of a roar then a clap. Desidarious looked to the approaching thunder head and watched as the clouds rolled within themselves. In all the years he had lived here he had never seen a storm like this. It seemed to be alive.
The clouds grew darker by the minute and more sounds were heard. From the center of the dark thunder head there was movement. They began to bulge and twist until they were parted suddenly and gave way. From the center emerged blackness so indescribable, the dark figure took form as Desidarious began to run for the docks to help the fisherman. The Dark form screamed through the sky and with one breath black fire engulfed the three boats right before his eyes. The screams heard from the boats were deafening as fisherman leaped into the ocean trying to smother the flames but to no avail. Desidarious shockingly looked to the sky and saw the form that had attacked them had taken the shape of a dragon, black as night and formless as smoke. Unsure of what was happening, he looked to the boats again. Most of the crews had burnt to ashes, but some still writhed in pain as they tried to swim ashore.
One of them made it to the sandy beaches as Desidarious arrived. The sailor’s skin slowly turned to ash and drifted away. His screams of pain echoed all around as Desidarious attempted to dowse the flames with sand but slipped and his hand fell onto the elf’s burning body. He yanked his hand away to keep from being burned, but strangely, he felt no pain. There were no burns or scorches on his hand, no heat emanated from the fire. No matter what he tried, Desidarious could not extinguish the flames and the elf slowly dwindled to ash and dispersed with the wind. Rage filled his essence as he began cursing the beast and casting every spell and incantation he knew, and with every one that left his lips the bolts and flames passed through the body of the dragon as if it was not there.
The beast did not take notice of him as it turned its great head and centered its gaze on Dueldinar. Desidarious reluctantly stopped his assault when he saw that his attempts at magic were futile. Breathing heavily he looked to the beast and saw the glance it was casting toward his home. Fear welled in his heart as he realized it was going to attack Dueldinar. With a flap of its giant wings the Dragon took flight heading straight to the city. “No!” Desidarious screamed as he took to running, giving every ounce of strength he had to beat the blackness and save his home and family. His heart felt as if it would explode in his chest as he did everything in his power to catch the beast, but it was to fast. Desidarious witnessed as the Dragon hovered over the city and belched black fire into its center. The screams tore through the walls and at his heart as he watched his people burning and racing through the city. Tears streamed down his face as he realized that there was nothing he could do to aide them. Reluctant to leave he headed to the castle, hoping to save his family from the blackness. Elves ran from their houses, screaming and rolling on the ground desperately trying to put out the flames that engulfed them. Desidarious leaped over and dodged bodies as he ran through the city attempting to reach the castle. As he reached the portcullises and made the turn toward the door, the next wave of black flame burst through the gate. He heard a deafening roar as the Dragon took to the air to get a better vantage over the city.
Once in the castle, Desidarious headed through the great hall to the stairs that lead to his families living quarters. Servants delirious with fear screamed and scampered to the door to escape the wrath and carnage. He turned onto the fifth level of the castle and headed into the war room where he found his father staring to the heavens on the balcony. “Father we must flee, there is a great darkness attacking the city!” Desidarious yelled as his father swiftly turned and knocked him to the ground with a back hand. “Flee! Have you lost your mind? How dare you come in here and speak of cowardice before me!” The king turned to face his son lying on his back wiping blood from his mouth. “We will not flee! We will hold and defend this city and this land till our very last breath! And when we defeat this beast I will pun...” the king is interrupted as a shadow overtakes the room.
The king turned to face the great grey eye of the Dragon that had attacked his land. Pulling his blade the king yelled, “Back to the pit you came from beast. You will not have Dueldinar!” Holding his blade above his head the king gave a war cry as the Dragon filled the room with flame. Desidarious screamed as he watched his father dwindle to ash before him, the flames filled every corner of the room but still he felt no heat and sustained no burns. When the flames died and all was calm, Desidarious got to his feet bewildered by the fact that he was unharmed. His mother, the Queen rushed into the room and grabbed him by the arm. They ran together to the center of the hall. The sounds of screams became deafening and the roar of the great Dragon outside shook the very castle. “Desi, are you hurt my son?” she asked frantically. The words come slowly to him “N...no, Mother I am fine. What is happening here?” he asked. “I don’t know! It is an omen of ill tidings for us I fear.” she replied as she began to look everywhere for someplace to hide. Just then another roar shook the castle, the mortar holding the stones in place began to crumble. A large support holding the ceiling in the hall gives way. “Desidarious!” The Queen screamed as she shoved him back. The tumbling stone and wood fell, crushing the life from her. “Mother!” Desidarious screamed as he saw the beautiful light leave her eyes. He frantically dug her from the ruble and held her gently in his arms rocking and crying. Another roar was heard as something snapped inside of him. Desidarious slowly laid his mother to the ground and entered the war room where the ashes of his father were scattered. Never looking away from the balcony, Desidarious knelt and picked up his father’s sword and stepped to the edge. Tears streamed from his face as the black Dragon raised from below coming face to face with the now King of this destroyed land. “I will not rest until you have rendered your last breath, Beast! As long as I live, I will find a way to kill you. I swear it!” Desidarious screamed as he raised his father’s sword and jumped from the balcony toward the black giant. The Dragon spun and with a swipe of his great tail knocked Desidarious through the sky. The force was so great it sent him splashing into the ocean. His father’s sword fell from his hand as he entered the water. As he slid into the water’s darkness, his body slowly lingered unconscious, then rose to break the surface face down, while the remains of Dueldinar’s people smolder and burn to ash.
Those are the thoughts that are running through the mind of this half elf, as he is standing on a precipice some 385 feet overlooking the remains of a long since destroyed land. His land, his home, now covered in lush forest. Large remnants of standing pillars are now covered with twisting vines. A shiver travels up his spine, as the memories flood his mind one after another. His large black stallion sensing his heartache slowly nudges his elbow with his snout. “It’s ok Inferno, its just memories.” he says as he places his hand on the large face of the stallion and patting his large front shoulder. Inferno gives a snort and begins pulling at some grass on the ground. The half elf looks over the landscape one last time, and sees the remnants of his home from long ago. As his mind takes over, an image begins to appear and the world around him begins to dissolve into nothing.
When his mind’s eye clears he sees the beautiful city of Dueldinar, The only city on this large island of mountainous forests. The spires of the castle reach to the sky almost as high as the tallest mountain, shimmering like gold on a sunny day. The homes littered the landscape all around the castle, their chimneys emitting the Smokey smell of mulberry wood burning. In the center of the city stands the chapel of Gaia, the goddess of the land. Its walls beautifully decorated with statues and effigies in honor to she who birthed the land and all on it. Cobblestone streets weave through the city like a tapestry. All of them join at the only entrance where the market stands. Near the market, a boy of near thirteen stands sweeping a walkway that leads to the house where his master and teacher of magic lives.
“Desidarious!” A young elf girl yelled as she ran her way up the stone walk to a tall semi- large framed boy. The boy engrossed in his days labors was far to busy to hear her, until she slapped him on the shoulder and said “Desidarious! I know you heard me, stop ignoring me, right now!” Desidarious shrugged back and rubbed his stinging shoulder saying “well hello Ula, I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just trying to get my chores done so we could go and play.” “Well are you done yet? Mulnar told me of a new cave that we can explore, but we have to get there before him and his scruffy friends!” Desidarious looked up at the sun and saw that it is well after midday. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be exploring caves Ula? I mean, if the sun falls while we are in there we won’t be able to find our way out.” Ula shrugged her shoulders and said playfully, “Don’t be so lame Desi." That’s the whole point of exploration. It’s the danger you know.” Desidarious not wanting to seem afraid walked into the house and asked his teacher if he needed anything else. He received his leave and the two of them took off for the cave.
As they made their way to the cave Ula asked “So what is going on with the negotiations between the king and the water people Desi?” Desidarious showing the annoyance on his face of such a question replied “They go well. My father and the Mahai as they like to be called have come to an accord. We allow them to perform their rights of age in our forests and they allow us to fish in their waters.” Ula noticed Desidarious’s annoyance and reluctantly asked “What is a right of age?” Becoming more and more annoyed he replied “When a Mahi comes into adulthood they are sent to the land to hunt. They are to battle with a foreign creature in a foreign land, and they must return with proof of their battle. Once done they are presented with their armor and weapon of choice and join the ranks of the military.” Ula satisfied with his response smiled and looked to the sky and then said “This is where Mulnar said the cave is, but I don’t see it.” Just then a rock struck Desidarious on his face splitting his lip and bruising his cheek. “What’s wrong half breed? Did that hurt?” The voice rang out from behind a row of trees. Desidarious turned to see Mulnar and four of his friends standing next to a pile of rocks. Angrily Ula yelled “You dirty snake, you tricked me so I would bring Desi here so you all could fight him!” Mulnar smiled and tossed the rock in his hand. “What? You think I told you that because I liked you? Come on, Ula. You are so damn gullible! You run with this half breed highness instead of your own kind, and you wonder why we don’t want you around us? How pathetic!”
Desidarious wiped the blood from his cheek and mouth, and then spit what was left in his mouth onto the hard ground. “Well! There is a little fight in you after all, half breed. I’m surprised.” Mulnar said as he tossed the rock up and caught it over and over. The rage welled up in Desidarious until he could not control it any more. The stone Mulnar was tossing left his hand once more, then sat motionless in the air longer than gravity would have allowed it. Mulnar and his friends slowly backed away, surprised at what was happening, but not enough to run. It would be their mistake. Desidarious was known for his weakness in the area of magic, but this action took them unaware. The stone, motionless in the air then flew effortlessly and hit Mulnar square between the eyes; breaking his nose and blowing open the skin of his brow. As he flew backward, blood spurted from his wound. Mulnar wailed in pain and writhed on the ground. The other boys took off, never looking back and abandoning their friend. Desidarious slowly walked to Mulnar and stood over him. “Every time you call me half breed you curse my mother. I have stood and taken it for the last time! And you have said it for the last time!” Desidarious jumped on his victim and grabbed him around his neck with both hands, trying to slowly and steadily squeeze the life from him. Just as it looked as if he would finish his deed, Ula grabbed him and tossed him to the ground.
“Have you lost your mind, Desi? You could have killed him!” Ula said her look of shock and amazement brought Desidarious back to his senses. “I.....I am sorry. I do not know what came over me.” Desidarious responded attempting to grasp what just happened. “I thought you were a decent person Desi, but I guess I was wrong. Do not come near me again, ever!” Ula shouted as she turned to help Mulnar to his feet and escorted him back to Dueldinar. Desidarious slowly stood and walked back alone feeling terrible for his response to the situation. As he entered the gates to the city he saw Ula and Mulnar standing amongst a large crowd all gathered around the king. Desidarious walked to his father and stared at the ground. “I am sorry Father, I lost control. It will never happen again.” King Dueldin stared at his son, his eyes full of rage. “You have no idea how true that is.” He looked to his captain and said “Take him to the post.” A shock rushed through the crowd and Ula began to cry.
The captain escorted Desidarious to the front of the castle. There stood an eight- foot post with leather straps hanging from the top. Desidarious was placed facing the post as his hands were tied above his head. The king then exclaimed “My son has committed a crime, a crime that will not be tolerated not even by royalty. The punishment is eight lashes!” Desidarious screamed as the whip cracked against his back. He could feel the skin split upon every lash. Just when his body and mind were ready to give way, the eighth lash was delivered. He collapsed against the post as he started to shake from the pain of his torso lengthening. His body stung from the lashes, but not as much as his pride of being beaten in front of the people, and his father. With the punishment done the guards untied him and carried him to his chamber in the castle. When he regained consciousness he saw his mother sitting next to him rocking. Tears falling slowly down her face; her human features looked so beautiful in the light of the candles that she seemed almost godlike. As Desidarious slowly tried to move, the Queen helped him to sit up. “I am sorry mother. I do not know what came over me.” Queen Alnora responded gently, almost at a whisper. “It is called rage, Desidarious. It is common among humans but not as much in elves. Your father wants you to be more elf than human, my son. That is why he was so hard on you. But I know why you did it and I thank you for standing up for my honor.” The queen bent and kissed him on the forehead and laid him back to rest. She gave him a smile, then turned and left.
The next morning Desidarious awoke to his father standing at the foot of his bed staring at him. “Yes, father?” Desidarious reluctantly spoke. “You have embarrassed me son, and for this the lashes are not the only price you will pay. You are hereby confined to this castle until your eighteenth birthday. You will study the ways of the elves and all of your learning will be done within these walls. Do you understand?” King Dueldin spoke firmly as if he had no emotions. Desidarious felt the rage well up inside him again. “Why can’t he understand Mulnar was the one that started this mess?” He thought to pursue this thinking, but responded “as you wish father.”
The years passed one by one, and with each Desidarious learned more and mastered much of his teachings. At eighteen, he had become a master of hand to hand fighting, sword fighting, magic, and smithing. But through all of this, he had longed to be near Ula. One morning the king visited his son and told him that he had served his sentence and may now leave the castle grounds. Elated, Desidarious bolted through the long halls down the stairs and through the portcullis where the town bustled with life. He took in a deep breath as if he had never smelled fresh air in his whole life, and happiness welled up inside him. He was glad to be out of his prison and never wanted to return. He walked through the streets greeting every one that he passed. His greetings fell short to those that still remembered his crimes, and instead of a smile or nod, they would spit upon the ground or not acknowledge the thought of his existence. Today however, he refused to allow it to ruin his mood. He was on a mission.
He walked past the market and turned right down an alley, where he could see Ula’s house. A modest but lovely home. He knocked, and a tall thin man answered responding “Well hello there, Desidarious. What brings you here?” Excited to finally apologize and repair his friendship he asked “Is Ula home sir?” Ula’s father scowled and replied. “I am sorry, Desidarious but she left with Mulnar and his group a year ago. She wanted to explore the world. We told her no, but she left in defiance of our wishes.” Desidarious puzzled and crushed asked “You would not by chance know where they might of gone would you, sir?” Ula’s father just shook his head and sadly closed the door. Desidarious turned and walked to the gates of the city. As he looked out over the plains to the ocean beyond he wondered where Ula might be and allowed his mind to drift off. Why would she leave like that?
In a far away land six travelers found themselves standing at a large canyon with the orange glow of lava running like a river two hundred feet below, staring across at an enormous mountain. To the right, they could hear the sound of water falling and crashing against the lava. The steam they could see throughout the cavern rose into the air making the atmosphere almost unbearable. “What now!” Ula stated aggravated and tired from their travels. It had been almost one year since they all left the Island of Devonshire in search of treasures and excitement. “Well, we have to cross this somehow. The mage told us that the shadow root is in a cave somewhere in the center of that mountain. If we can get it, he said he would make us richer than any king alive!” Mulnar said as he scanned the great expanse for a way across. Just then the steam waned, and revealed the entrance. Through the side of the mountain an opening was seen, all six of them stepped back in awe of what they saw. The large, menacing skull of a dragon with its mouth open wide, revealed the path.
“Gaia, save us!” Ulah gasped as she stood staring at the boney remains of one of the largest dragons ever seen. From behind them a voice boomed “That place is cursed!” Their hearts dropped as they all jumped and spun. Standing behind them is a tall, thin, elderly man dressed as if he had not seen a civilized society in years. Catching his breath, Mulnar responded “What do you know of it, old man!” The traveler simply glanced at all of them and said “This place is called Dragons Fell. It is the final resting place for those fantastic creatures that once ruled our land long before us all. It is not a place for intruders and treasure seekers. You would be wise to leave this place while you can.” The six seekers began to look amongst themselves as if they would take his advice, but then Mulnar spoke up “Well, I am not afraid of any stupid curse or superstitions! If you know how to get across you had best tell me old man, or I will cut you from gut to throat!” The old man shrugged and said, “As you wish.” He walked to the edge and closed his eyes. A few minutes passed, and then the sound of cracking rock was heard. A shard of the shelf that they all were standing on separated and floated weightlessly in front of them. “Climb on, if you are going. This will take you there and return you when you are done. That is, if you live.” The old man said with a smile. Mulnar, Ula and the others stepped onto the floating rock. It slowly began to glide across the expansive canyon drawing closer to the jaws of the door to Dragons Fell.
“I don’t like this Mulnar!” Ula proclaimed as the shard of rock that they were standing on made contact with the immense lower jaw of the skull. “Don’t be a child Ula!” Mulnar chastised as he stepped into the gaping mouth and headed into the opening as the rest of them followed. The opening spilled into a bowl shaped valley, the top open to the sky. It did not take Ula long to realize they were standing in the middle of a giant volcano. As they walked, the sound of the crust cracking under their feet became greatly amplified by the acoustics of the rock walls that surround them. All around lay the remains of Dragons who came to take their final breath, and join with the energies of the land. The heat was unbearable as it seeped through the cracks in the crust that had formed over the volcanic lava beneath them, giving off a dark orange glow. The party made their way to the center of the large crater where a large pile of ash stood. “Where is it?” Mulnar exclaimed as his eyes scanned the area. “There!” Ula pointed to a cave halfway up the face of the rock, “Good eyes, Ula!” Mulnar complimented her as he began walking to the area where the cave resided. Once there, they began climbing the sharp rocks a hundred feet to the cave’s ledge. As they entered, the smell of sulphur permeated their nostrils. The smell made a couple of them gag and convulse but they pressed on.
After two hours of walking the cavern they came to an intersection. The path they were on continued but there was now another intersecting to the right. “Where now?” one of the elves yelled out. “Well, let us go right. I bet if we keep going straight the path will lead to another exit on the other side of the crater.” Mulnar said as he led the party down the path to the right. Ten minutes later they came to what looked like some kind of alter. There was a stone protruding from the wall, dimly lit buy their torches. An image was drawn on the wall of what looked to be a black Dragon; a strange plant grew through the rock. “That must be it!” Mulnar exclaimed and then grabbed the plant and pulled, but the plant did not budge. “Come on, help me! You all want to be rich do you not?” Mulnar yelled. Reluctantly, Ula and the others grabbed and pulled at the plant. After a little time the plant came free. Mulnar looked at the black exterior of the root and said “This is what the mage said he wanted, it is just as he described!” Ula, looking confused asks “This is worth more money than any king has? It looks like a rotten potato but uglier.”
They stood looking at the root for awhile, and then slid it into Mulnar’s pack. They turned to leave, when the cave began to shake. Something that looked like oil began to seep from the hole where the root came from and the cave started to shake violently. Rocks from above began to fall. “Go! Get out of here!” Mulnar yelled and the group turned and ran the way they came. From the alter, black smoke poured out and filled the cavern. Once the group got out of the cave and down to the bottom of the rock wall, Ula turned. What she saw chilled her to the bone. The smoke exiting the cave began to rise and take shape. The shape of an immense dragon. Blacker than midnight, with its body almost transparent, it was as if it was made of the smoke its self. A voice boomed in their heads, almost crushing their minds. “Free! I am free at last! You are the chosen!” Ula holding her head in pain managed to yell “Chosen? For what?” The ghostly dragon replied, “Chosen to free me, and chosen to be the last to die. For your greed, you will witness as I eradicate your race from this land, consuming them in black fire. And damning your souls for all eternity! Once I am finished, I will come for you to seal your fate and deliver you to the blackness!” With that, the Dragon screamed through the air leaving the six in crushing pain. Trying to regain her composure, Ula stood wearily and said “What have we done?”
On the Island of Devenshire, Desidarious stood at the city gates staring at the open ocean. The waves steadily beating against the shore seemed to calm his soul. He looked farther out to sea where the local fishermen were hard at their work. The sun gleamed off their sails like little pearls in the ocean; I wish Ula was here to see this he thought.
Just as he turned to leave, the western wind suddenly picked up, the ocean began to churn and chop angrily. The warm sunlight faded to darkness as a sudden storm seemed to have arrived. Desidarious snapped his glance back to the fishing boats that were suddenly being thrown about like pieces of driftwood. The sails have been dropped and the men on the boats had forsaken their nets to take to the oars to try desperately to reach the shore. The sound of thunder was heard in the distance as he anxiously waited to see if the fisherman would arrive safely. Another crash of thunder sounded even closer than before. But this time the sound was different. It was more of a roar then a clap. Desidarious looked to the approaching thunder head and watched as the clouds rolled within themselves. In all the years he had lived here he had never seen a storm like this. It seemed to be alive.
The clouds grew darker by the minute and more sounds were heard. From the center of the dark thunder head there was movement. They began to bulge and twist until they were parted suddenly and gave way. From the center emerged blackness so indescribable, the dark figure took form as Desidarious began to run for the docks to help the fisherman. The Dark form screamed through the sky and with one breath black fire engulfed the three boats right before his eyes. The screams heard from the boats were deafening as fisherman leaped into the ocean trying to smother the flames but to no avail. Desidarious shockingly looked to the sky and saw the form that had attacked them had taken the shape of a dragon, black as night and formless as smoke. Unsure of what was happening, he looked to the boats again. Most of the crews had burnt to ashes, but some still writhed in pain as they tried to swim ashore.
One of them made it to the sandy beaches as Desidarious arrived. The sailor’s skin slowly turned to ash and drifted away. His screams of pain echoed all around as Desidarious attempted to dowse the flames with sand but slipped and his hand fell onto the elf’s burning body. He yanked his hand away to keep from being burned, but strangely, he felt no pain. There were no burns or scorches on his hand, no heat emanated from the fire. No matter what he tried, Desidarious could not extinguish the flames and the elf slowly dwindled to ash and dispersed with the wind. Rage filled his essence as he began cursing the beast and casting every spell and incantation he knew, and with every one that left his lips the bolts and flames passed through the body of the dragon as if it was not there.
The beast did not take notice of him as it turned its great head and centered its gaze on Dueldinar. Desidarious reluctantly stopped his assault when he saw that his attempts at magic were futile. Breathing heavily he looked to the beast and saw the glance it was casting toward his home. Fear welled in his heart as he realized it was going to attack Dueldinar. With a flap of its giant wings the Dragon took flight heading straight to the city. “No!” Desidarious screamed as he took to running, giving every ounce of strength he had to beat the blackness and save his home and family. His heart felt as if it would explode in his chest as he did everything in his power to catch the beast, but it was to fast. Desidarious witnessed as the Dragon hovered over the city and belched black fire into its center. The screams tore through the walls and at his heart as he watched his people burning and racing through the city. Tears streamed down his face as he realized that there was nothing he could do to aide them. Reluctant to leave he headed to the castle, hoping to save his family from the blackness. Elves ran from their houses, screaming and rolling on the ground desperately trying to put out the flames that engulfed them. Desidarious leaped over and dodged bodies as he ran through the city attempting to reach the castle. As he reached the portcullises and made the turn toward the door, the next wave of black flame burst through the gate. He heard a deafening roar as the Dragon took to the air to get a better vantage over the city.
Once in the castle, Desidarious headed through the great hall to the stairs that lead to his families living quarters. Servants delirious with fear screamed and scampered to the door to escape the wrath and carnage. He turned onto the fifth level of the castle and headed into the war room where he found his father staring to the heavens on the balcony. “Father we must flee, there is a great darkness attacking the city!” Desidarious yelled as his father swiftly turned and knocked him to the ground with a back hand. “Flee! Have you lost your mind? How dare you come in here and speak of cowardice before me!” The king turned to face his son lying on his back wiping blood from his mouth. “We will not flee! We will hold and defend this city and this land till our very last breath! And when we defeat this beast I will pun...” the king is interrupted as a shadow overtakes the room.
The king turned to face the great grey eye of the Dragon that had attacked his land. Pulling his blade the king yelled, “Back to the pit you came from beast. You will not have Dueldinar!” Holding his blade above his head the king gave a war cry as the Dragon filled the room with flame. Desidarious screamed as he watched his father dwindle to ash before him, the flames filled every corner of the room but still he felt no heat and sustained no burns. When the flames died and all was calm, Desidarious got to his feet bewildered by the fact that he was unharmed. His mother, the Queen rushed into the room and grabbed him by the arm. They ran together to the center of the hall. The sounds of screams became deafening and the roar of the great Dragon outside shook the very castle. “Desi, are you hurt my son?” she asked frantically. The words come slowly to him “N...no, Mother I am fine. What is happening here?” he asked. “I don’t know! It is an omen of ill tidings for us I fear.” she replied as she began to look everywhere for someplace to hide. Just then another roar shook the castle, the mortar holding the stones in place began to crumble. A large support holding the ceiling in the hall gives way. “Desidarious!” The Queen screamed as she shoved him back. The tumbling stone and wood fell, crushing the life from her. “Mother!” Desidarious screamed as he saw the beautiful light leave her eyes. He frantically dug her from the ruble and held her gently in his arms rocking and crying. Another roar was heard as something snapped inside of him. Desidarious slowly laid his mother to the ground and entered the war room where the ashes of his father were scattered. Never looking away from the balcony, Desidarious knelt and picked up his father’s sword and stepped to the edge. Tears streamed from his face as the black Dragon raised from below coming face to face with the now King of this destroyed land. “I will not rest until you have rendered your last breath, Beast! As long as I live, I will find a way to kill you. I swear it!” Desidarious screamed as he raised his father’s sword and jumped from the balcony toward the black giant. The Dragon spun and with a swipe of his great tail knocked Desidarious through the sky. The force was so great it sent him splashing into the ocean. His father’s sword fell from his hand as he entered the water. As he slid into the water’s darkness, his body slowly lingered unconscious, then rose to break the surface face down, while the remains of Dueldinar’s people smolder and burn to ash.
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