Turret of Faith: Part 1

Here is the first part of the opening chapter in my fantasy book.

    “Get up, Conell, ye mangy excuse for a wolf,” growls Wolfe, “we got to git a move on.  The Turret is a good long way from here and I want to be rid of this damned sword.”
    The great wolf gives his lifelong friend a baleful glare and then yawns. He gets up, stretches and digs around in the ashes of last night’s fire for any scraps left over from the night before. Meanwhile, Wolfe starts to break camp. Today, they hope to break out of the Antediluvian Forest. The great wolf and the hardy dwarf travel for hours without stopping, leaving the Antediluvian Forest behind at around midday. As they approach the ruins of Lorelei, Wolfe unslings his great battle axe. The ancient city was named Ambush Cliff for a reason. The only passable road through the area bottlenecks at the base of the cliffs. The cliffs rise nearly a thousand feet into the air -- perfect for enemies to attack from safety. This, however, does not worry Wolfe because the paths to the summit of the cliffs were destroyed in the Great Burn. What worries Wolfe is the band of thieves who have been working the other end of the bottlenecked road. A low growl from Conall alerts him to the attack as the brigands drop like stones from the sheer stone face of the cliffs.
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    The snarling of a wolf, the wet smack of titanium against flesh and the bellows of “Greytome” awaken Ashete. She cautiously approaches the din of battle and is astounded. Piles of grotesque creatures litter the road winding along the base of the cliff. A great wolf and an elderly dwarf are trying to fight off hundreds more of the creatures and doing a pretty good job of it. If Ashete can respect anything, skill in battle is it. With a flick of her wrist and the whispered word, “Neasa,” she sends a curtain of fire across the face of the cliff to destroy the remaining attackers. The dwarf turns with his axe raised as if to repel a new enemy. Ashete places her right hand over her heart in hopes that the dwarf will recognize her people’s sign of peace. The dwarf returns the gesture and with his left hand he motions for the still snarling wolf to relax.
    “Who be ye?” the dwarf growls in a voice as rough as granite.
    “I am Ashete, an exiled warrior of the barbarian nomads. Who are you, old one?” she replies.
    “I be Wolfe of the clan Greytome, the line of Lupinus Sharpsteel. And this mangy flea bag be my partner through the years, Conall. What be a young thing like you doin’ in this here dangerous land?”
    “I am seeking a lost library and while I may be young in years, I am old in knowledge. I am not to be trifled with, little man.”
    “I meant no disrespect to ye lass. Ye proved yerself ta me with that fire spell. If yer way be north, Conall and me would be glad ta have ye travel with us. It would be good for an old dwarf smith like me ta have someone other than that bag o bones to talk to,” offers Wolfe.
    “I have no time to listen to the ramblings of an old dwarf. I must move with as much speed as I can muster. I am the fastest thing on two legs and I am afraid you just couldn’t keep up,” Ashete boasts.
    “That may be the truth among ye humans, but the creature ain’t been born who can outrun Wolfe Greytome and his pal, Conall. But if nothing else, by traveling with us, ye might learn some respect. Ye may be powerful lass, but I am stronger still. Ye humans all think ye be better than the other races, but for the most part ye be the weakest of them all. The only race that be faster or more magical than dwarves be the great dragons, of which only one still be alive.”
    “Dwyn,” murmurs Ashete, encasing Wolfe in a pillar of stone. “It seems you are not as powerful as you might believe, old one. If you apologize, I may release you.” A look of amusement flashes over Wolfe’s face. He doesn’t say a word, but suddenly Wolfe has been freed and Ashete finds herself encased in a pillar of molten titanium. She tries every counterspell she can think of but nothing can release her from her molten prison. “How?” she asks in defeat.
    “I’ll not be telling ye that just yet, lass. But I will let ye loose,” Wolfe chuckles. “If ye want to learn some decent magic, ye’ll be traveling with us. We be headed ta the Turret o’ Faith, where be the library o’ Maeghis the Unassailable, the most powerful human mage to ever live. I think that be the ‘lost library’ ye be searching for.”
    “I apologize to you, old one. You are indeed more powerful than I gave you credit. You are also right; I do seek the Library of Maeghis. We will travel together.”
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    Cadeyrn travels swiftly through the Muirgen Mountains. He carries nothing but Agrona, his two-handed broadsword. He is accompanied by Cian, the ageless phoenix. They travel swiftly through the night, stopping only to verify that they are not followed. As he scales the rough, rose colored walls in Blodeuwedd Canyon, the base of his neck begins to tingle. Something is stalking him. Something close. With a wave of his hand, Cadeyrn sends Cian to scout the canyon’s rim. The phoenix disappears with a tiny puff of smoke. From high above the canyon Cian releases a piercing screech. Forewarned, Cadeyrn summons a barrage of lightning to scour the rim. As he pulls himself over the canyon edge, Cadeyrn sees Cian calmly plucking strips of meat from one of several dozen charred and smoking bodies.  A slight noise comes from behind the mass of bodies, causing Cadeyrn to cast another lightning spell.
    “Ow,” a deep voice rumbles, “you could have just said hello you spell happy elf!”
    “Titan! What are you doing here?” exclaims Cadeyrn.
    “Before being used for target practice, I was looking for you. Your brother said you abandoned your people to search for the Turret of Faith. I was instructed to tell you that your father had an accident on the rapids and with your absence in such a tragedy, your brother assumed the throne.”
    “I have to go back. That lousy excuse for a brother killed our father,” yelled Cadeyrn.
    “You have no proof. Besides, your brother declared you a traitor. He claims you killed your father and that this journey is just an excuse to get away. The elven nation is under orders to kill you on sight.”
    “Cian is all the proof I need,” said Cadeyrn. “He will only take orders from the rightful king or follow someone the king grants his protection to. If my father were not murdered, Cian would fly by my brother’s side until I could assume the throne.  If my father was killed by my hand, Cian would have left me. My people know this and when I meet an elf with Cian at my side, he will let me go on my way.”
    “If you say so, Cadeyrn. But I think I will travel with you, just to make sure. After all, if your brother did kill your father, he must be smarter than he appears. By the way, I saw a large group of troll raiders to the east, about two days travel on foot. They were well armed and I think you should know that your pretty lightning will be as effective against them as it was against me. You might want to decide if fighting them is worth our time and energy. Remember, a fight with trolls can last for days,” warned Titan.
    “Trolls last for days? Against my skill with a blade, your mighty fangs and the fire of Cian?  Has old age deluded you that much, old friend?” quipped Cadeyrn.
    “Old age! I won’t forget that you smart-assed hatchling.  But with trolls so close, I will forgive it.  At least for now,” snarls the mighty dragon.  “So do we fight the trolls or not?”
    “I don’t think we have a choice, cuz here they come,” yelled Cadeyrn as he unsheathes Agrona, his two-handed broadsword.
    In moments, their position is flooded with the troll war party.  Titan sweeps his massive tail to and fro, sending trolls flying.  His jaws snap left and right, biting off heads and legs.  Cian rains fire down upon the trolls and, while trolls are impervious to fire, the smoke is a great source for confusion among them.  But the true beauty is Cadeyrn.  His broadsword flashes here, there, everywhere.  Whatever the sword touches is instantly clove in half.  He cuts through the vanguard of the trolls like a farmer mowing hay.  The battle rages on for hours and as the trio kill hundreds of the troll warriors, thousands more take their place.  As the rushing tide of warriors advance, Cadeyrn and Titan are swept apart.  Cadeyrn dispenses death like a healer dispensing foul tasting medicines.  He is clubbed, stabbed, slashed and hacked at from all sides, acquiring a multitude of minor wounds.  The mighty elven warrior falls and loss of blood robs him of the strength to rise.  As Agrona slips from his numb fingers, Cadeyrn succumbs to the darkness.
    Cadeyrn awakes to find himself swathed from head to toe in rough cloth and icy steel. He is unable to see through his blindfold, but, from the unpleasant smell of rotting meat and the occasional creak of an ungreased wheel, he assumes he is held captive in a troll supply wagon. The sound of water sloshing around, coupled with some indignant screeching, lets Cadeyrn know Cian was also taken by the trolls.  Bereft of his weapons, Cadeyrn settles down to forming an escape plan.  As he tries to summon a small bolt of lightning to blast the chains binding him, Cadeyrn is knocked off his feet by the swaying of the wagon.  Blindfolded and without the sight of Cian, Cadeyrn rolls around the wagon bed trying to scrape off the cloth obstructing his vision, but to no avail.  After several hours of struggling, Cadeyrn loses consciousness once more.
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    “The secret to casting powerful magic be as complex as it be simple,” instructs Wolfe.
    “But that doesn’t make any sense,” Ashete argues.
    “Of course it don’t make sense, girl!  To cast spells, ye must harness the forces of nature.  Ye must bring order to chaos.  Ye must make sense out of that which does not make sense.  When ye can do that, then ye will be a mage worthy of note.  Now the first exercise I want ye to try is very simple: focus.  Each night as we camp, ye must focus all yer thoughts on only one thing.  This will help ye move beyond spoken spell casting into the realms of mental spell work.  The reason yer countercharms were unable to release ye from the titanium weren’t lack of power, lass.  They failed because they had no charm to counter,” Wolfe explains. “But ye must remember not to focus on something to the exclusion of everything happening around ye.  Think of magic like a last stand.  Ye wouldn’t focus on one opponent and forget about his friends that are trying to stab ye in the  back, would ye?  Of course ye wouldn’t.”
    “What if I can’t achieve that kind of focus?  Concentration has never been one of my strong suits.  I just react and let fate dictate the outcome of my actions,” Ashete replies.  “My speed with bow or blade and the power of my magic has never failed to help me achieve victory over my enemies.”
    “And if ye faced an opponent upon whom yer magic had no effect?  What if yer blade broke and ye had no more arrows for yer bow?  How would ye achieve victory then?” Wolfe inquires.
    “I’d run.  I already told you that I am the fastest thing on two legs.  If I was in a position where I could not win through force, I would escape with the speed of my legs,” Ashete replies smugly.
    “Ye weren’t running to fast earlier now was ye, lass?  The point of this lesson is to make ye see every aspect of everything surrounding ye.  Had ye been able to focus all of yer concentration on escaping me spell earlier, instead of sulking over me escape, ye might have been able to overcome me spell,” Wolfe chides.  “Ye tried to completely dispel me titanium pillar.  Ye should have tried to merely redirect the flow of the metal encasing ye.  By doing so ye would have forced me to refocus me concentration, possibly causing me to lose control o’ me spell.”
    “So what you are saying is that as long as a spell is focused, it is harder to counteract it’s effects? But if the spell caster loses her focus for even a second, the spell can be nullified?”
    “That’s exactly right, lass.  Now do as I told ye and focus on one thing while maintaining awareness of yer surroundings,”  Wolfe instructs. “I be headed for the realm of dreams. In the mornin we need to forage for some fresh food. Practice for one hour -- no more, understand?”
    “I understand old one,” Ashete replies moodily. “See you in the morning.”
    As Wolfe draws his cloak about him and settles down against the base of a large tree, Ashete stares into the fire trying to focus her mind on the dancing flames. For a long time her mind will not obey her orders. The small noises of the night distract her continuously. A rat squeaks among the rubble of the ruined city, an owl flaps the the air on ghostly wings. Even the wind distracts her, tumbling through the dried grasses surrounding the campsite. At last though the flames grab Ashete’s mind and hold her attention fast. A sharp pain strikes Ashete behind her right ear, snapping her attention from the fire. As her eyes search the gloomy night Ashete mutters, “What in the seven Hells was that?” A deep chuckling comes from beyond a ruined wall. Ashete murmurs, “Belenus,” to bring forth a shimmering globe of light, which reveals an old dwarf with a huge grin crouched beside the fallen wall.
    “I told ye to focus on one thing, but to pay attention to everything, didn’t I?”  asks Wolfe with a small chuckle. “Not bad for a first attempt though lass. Now go to sleep before I toss another rock at yer noggin.”
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    Cadeyrn is awakened by the creaking of the wagon as it slows to a stop. Carefully, he opens his eyes, only to find himself still blindfolded. The rattling of a key turning in a lock and a breath of cool night air alert the elven prince to the imminent approach of his captors. The proud prince struggles to achieve a dignified, if perhaps not regal, seated position. A harsh voice, like the sound of iron grating against cobblestones, arrogantly states, “I am Kadrok, you are my prisoner. I will ask questions, you will answer them. Do you understand?” Cadeyrn nods his head. The blindfold is removed as the voice continues, “Then let us begin.”
    Cadeyrn’s eyes water from the intense light after his time spent in total darkness. “Where did you obtain this sword?” Cadeyrn focuses on the voice. It issued from the largest troll Cadeyrn had ever seen. Standing at just over six feet and tipping the scales at an easy 300 pounds with shaggy black hair and long matted eyebrows, the troll stood glaring at the captive prince with a massive war hammer strapped to his back and Cadeyrn’s sword held negligently in his enormous fist. “This blade is much to fine for a common soldier, so you must either be from a wealthy family or you are a gifted thief. You fought with both skill and honor which leads me to believe that you are not a thief. Your companions also point to a finer pedigree. Phoenixes do not consort with just anyone and your phoenix has gold flame -- not red. That is the mark of a phoenix allied to a royal house and since you are an elf I assume that you are from Ailill. How close is your family to the elven throne?”
    “You must think me a child to believe I would answer such a question. Remove these chains at once and I might decide to let you live,” Cadeyrn answers defiantly.
    “You will let me live? Look around you elf. I am master here. I decide who lives and who dies. Forget my question though. You already answered it for me. Only Prince Cadeyrn would dare to issue such a challenge while bound by chains and  surrounded by a troll army. I admire your courage young prince, but I must do my duty. Captured royalty must be brought before the High Council. It is there that your fate will be decided. The chains will remain and you will not leave this wagon before we reach our destination. Food will be brought to you, as will a bedroll. I leave now.”
    Cadeyrn stared at the back of the troll as Kadrok left the wagon. The moonlight glinted along the edge of Agrona as Kadrok walked across the encampment. Oh how Cadeyrn wished he could meet Kadrok with Agrona in his hand, in honorable battle instead of as a captive foe.

 

Author's Note

Obviously this needs polished up - it is a rough draft after all. I just want to hear what you think of the story so far.

Reviews

[Stacey Watts]

So far so good you have quite an interesting imagination with this piece. This is usually not my genre but now I am compelled to read the rest. I need to find out more. Great piece so far. Your characters are quite good.