Prologue: Terrors of the North

The first sign of trouble is in the far north, two men meet in the northern city of Felox but they're followed.

Prologue: Terrors of the North

Felox, the northern city of Centuria, built long ago by the ancient Centurions, it has stood as a bulwark. Like the other cities it was originally built with a wall, but a wall like no other. One of the city’s most famous tales was the defeat of the mighty troll army led by Brusnok Stone-Hide, whether it is true or not is debated by the scholars of the Imperial City, but back to the tale.

Strife was abroad, the King was sickly and news of dark things was all around, the city of Felox was alone in the north closest to the dark shadow. It was on one dark night that a lone horseman came to the city gates, asking for shelter. He made his way to the Drunken Minotaur Inn; many people looked at him with suspicion as he strode over to the innkeeper, the innkeeper was a modest man with an ugly face and thinning hair but had a beard to make a dwarf jealous.  

“How may I serve?” asked the innkeeper putting down a tankard he was polishing.

“How much for a room?” asked the man.

“That will be ten silver” replied the innkeeper.

The man handed the coin over then sat down at a nearby table. He looked around the room, looking out for his contact. A couple of middle-aged Nardions looked at him with grim eyes. A group of Rhinelander minstrels were in the corner singing the Tale of the Dragon’s fall.    

“Good you made it”

The man almost jumped out of his seat, sitting next to him was another man. He was draped in a long green cloak, his hooked nose and unkempt beard the only thing to identify him by.

“My Lord?” he asked.

The hooded man nodded.

“Is it as we’ve feared?” asked the man.

“Aye, two days ago three riders were at the gate, they were fell beings garbed in black with blue eyes that chilled their very blood, or so the guards told me, and they demanded entrance. The guards refused of course, I fear they will return”  

“What will we do?”

*****

It wasn’t until it was late at night that the first signs of strife arrived. From the city stables came the nervous whinnies of the horses, while the livestock made cries of distress. Dogs howled and the birds took flight in droves.  Even the humans were affected as the shadow entered the dreams of the children, suddenly plagued by nightmares.

Five cloaked figures silently slipped into the Drunken Minotaur. Before anyone could raise the alarm they were taken care of. The innkeeper huddled in a corner afraid to look, fearing for his life.

The fell beings however descended to the lower floor where the rooms were kept, they searched every room. Finally they came to the last room, there was a single bed. The person in the bed was oblivious to the doom that was coming. The leader of the five stepped forward his hideous long sword at the ready. He flicked his other hand and the covers came off, on their own accord, to reveal, pillows. The leader flipped the bed over in anger and let loose a blood curdling scream. The fell beings left the Inn and mounted up and rode off into the night.

*****

It was at least four hours until daybreak; the lone rider was on the Forest Road he was being followed but he couldn’t fail. It was a lure and it was working, his pursuers thought he was someone else. He risked a look and saw four riders in the distance, as they got closer he saw they weren’t ordinary riders. Their horses were jet black, frothed at the mouth and had icy blue eyes. The riders were garbed in black cloaks and robes that covered their whole body but he could make out two blue eyes. He looked back in front when suddenly a fifth rider burst out of the woods.

The other riders came from behind, surrounding him.

“You were hard to follow Brom. You almost got away. Almost.” Said the rider in a sinister voice. The other riders seeming to laugh, the sound chilling the blood of the rider.

“Now you will die Brom, brother to the king”

The rider pulled his hood down to reveal his face, “Try as you might but I’m not Brom Storm-Shield”

“Who are you?” demanded the leader.

“The last thing you ever saw” the man said pulling forth a silver sword from a hidden scabbard. The cloaked riders drew their swords and combat begun, the silent night was disturbed by the scraping of steel against steel and the blood curdling screams of the dead.   

 

Author's Note

Any fans of LotR will see the inspiration I got, but later on they're going to be quite unique.