Chapter 3 - The Castle to the Dark Castle

Chapter 3 - the passage to the dark castle

 

 

Mounted on Tycra, he rode up the winding path leading up and out of Ellurida and stared at the beautiful valley once the path had mounted at the top. He looked at the beautiful valley with all of it’s contents. The training temple, where he had spent most of his childhood. His childhood home, still living with memories. Then the mountain that hid the Valley of Polaria.

 

Will I ever see this beautiful valley again? he asked himself quietly

 

“Going off without saying goodbye?” a female voice said.

 

“You know if I had found you I would have,” Gildor replied as Selria stepped out from behind a tree mounted on a white horse.

 

She smiled and rode up beside him. “Godspeed,” she said and kissed him. “I love you,” she said quietly.

 

“With all my heart,” he replied and kissed her back and looked off.

 

“Off with you, the sooner you leave the sooner i will see you again,” she said with a smile.

 

He smiled genuinely back and rode off into the wooded area. Selria stayed mounted on the path staring at the spot that he had vanished into, and rode back down into Ellurida.

 

….

 

On the path with nothing to do, he dreamed about the night before and suddenly remembered the object he had slipped into his pocket. He pulled it out and found a ring, sterling silver and striking. He put it on to examine it and almost shouted out when writing flared across the ring

 

Follow your heart

 

He smiled and felt the ring on his finger grow cold and saw the words fade away.

 

….

 

He rode cloaked into the city men called Clementa. He was to ride up into this city and meet with the head of the city before continuing on into Mordrith’s realm.

 

The castle was of large splendor and very well fortified. The city had a wall around it but another wall around the castle, built so if the city were taken people could retreat into the castle and fight their way out from there. Gildor dismounted and went into the castle. He saw people shedding their defenses before they went to see the lord of the city. He passed up to the guard and handed the guard a scroll.

 

“Lord Houser said you are to go through with your weapons and to go straight to him, I will lead you to him.” the guard said.

Gildor nodded and followed the guard. After a seireze of hallways they entered into a main throne room to find a slender man sitting on a throne. The room was enormous filled with guards. Lord Houser stood to meet him.

 

“Hello Gildor, we have been expecting you. We could use your help against Mordrith, he has been battering us to pieces. I am wont to send one of my own men with you, a man of great prestige. But first just a little test...”

 

Suddenly Gildor sensed something wrong and whipped Istonul from its sheath to meet a sword whipping through the air. The swords sparked and rang as they met.

 

He’s strong! Gildor thought, but then was brought straight back into the fray by his adrenaline pumping through his body.

 

The attacker, a man of about the age of what looked to be about the age of twenty in dull black armor, whirled at his exposed side. Gildor glanced the blow aside and spun to slash at his exposed arm. The attacker deflected this blow with great skill and thrust at Gildor’s exposed side. Gildor leapt aside and quickly muttered an incantation in his mind and fire flashed from his palm. This blow hit the man full in the chest and sent him back flying and rolling on the floor.

 

Gildor sprang to slash at his attackers exposed weakness, but this was a skilled opponent. His opposition pulled up his sword to deflect the blow and kicked his feet up to use Gildor’s momentum against him. Gildor flew back and was winded as his back slammed against the floor. His attacker was on him in an instant. He used a basic the attack that his opponent must not have been expecting, knocking the swords from both dueler’s hands. They were sent rolling and Gildor felt his quiver fly off his back and arrows scatter. This gave him and idea. On the way through a roll, he spotted an arrow and grabbed it. He slammed his opponent on his back and held the arrow to his throat. His opponent looked at him in the eyes, breathing very hard.

 

“Very good,” Lord Houser said to himself, “Very good. Gildor, i would like you to meet my personal apprentice in the art of swordsmanship, Brethor.”

 

Gildor stood and both bowed to each other. He examined the man more thoroughly now. The man had black hair and brown eyes and was very muscular. Unlike Gildor, who was slender as most elves were, Brethor was hardy and thick like a tree.

 

Gildor slipped Istonul back into his sheath and gathered his arrows and bow and slipped them into his quiver.

 

“Now Gildor, I have a request to make of you. Brethor was my first and only apprentice. He is one of the best swordsmen in this city and very capable of any mission I have tested him with. I think he is ready for this mission, if you would have a companion.” Lord Houser explained and awaited an answer.

 

Gildor considered this thoroughly. With another companion, he would be able to take on many people at once, but this man may not have the stealth he would with his elven grace. Still, this was a man lesser or equal to his own skill, he could use this to help with his fight against Mordrith.

 

“He will come, if he choses.”

 

….

 

So the two companions rode out from the gates of Clementa together. Gildor on Tycra and Brethor on a black horse he called Uriel.

 

“Where did you learn your skill with the sword? I have never met someone with such skill.” Brethor asked him.

 

“An elven master warrior named Aeglais in the Valley where i grew up. He was a teacher of the blade and magic.”

 

“Ahh. So that is what you did back there in the throne room? Everything was happening so fast I was knocked back by something burning and i only had time to react when you sprang upon me.” Brethor exclaimed.

 

“Yes that was fire. I’m not much of a magician myself, that was only a basic spell, used for catching your enemy off guard.” Gildor explained.

 

“And it worked,” Brethor chuckled.

 

This man is more personable than I would have thought a man could be.

 

Gildor was lost in thought and suddenly thought about Selria as he stared at the ring. Again the message appeared on the ring. It must only appear when I think of her. He was still thinking when Brethor nudged him. “Look,” he pointed.

 

A man in black leather shirt and pants was standing in the middle of the road with four others. Each one was the same with a crest on the center of the jacket that had a black helm with fiery eyes. The head of the troup had gold embroidering on the edges of the jacket.

 

“Mundar,” Brethor muttered.

 

“Hoy you there!” the leader shouted, “This road is preoperty of Mordrith! Back off the road before i stick an arrow in your guts!” He pointed at Brethor, “Oi lads! It’s the great warrior from the city that has killed many of our kinsfolk!!! Lets take ‘im!”

 

With that the group charged. The leader stayed back with a bow that aimed for Brethor’s heart. Gildor quickly yanked an arrow from the quiver and loosed an arrow on the Mundar captain. The arrow landed with a thwump in his chest. The captain fell face first onto the ground. He leapt off Tycra and swept the elven sword from his sheath. While two were facing Brethor, the other two saw the elven pointed ears and sprinted toward Gildor. One wielded two poorly crafted black swords and one wielded a rusty battleaxe and a wooden shield. Obviously scouts, their weapons were poorly made.

 

The Mundar with the two swords leapt at him with a battlecry. The elf made quick work of this one, two quick slashes through and blood spilled on the ground where the mundar had fallen. The other was more cautious. He held his shield at the ready and advaced with his axe at the ready. Gildor leapt forward and smote the shield, trying to shatter it. The shield was obviously more durable than it looked, it withheld the blow and gave the Mundar axeman an opening at his side. Dazed but still fighting, Gildor sprang aside just before the blow could slash him. He had to find a way to shatter the shield, then he remembered his duel with Selria. He used the same incantation and saw his sword pulse with green energy, the same color as the line that ran down the length of his sword. He swung at the shield and shattered hit as easily as he could have shattered glass. The blow continued through and severed the brute’s head.

 

He turned to check on Brethor just as he ran the last Mundar through with his blade.

 

“Scouts, low ranking warriors,” he said, “very easy to defeat. Many men have underestimated them by their low ranking warriors. Their higher rankers are better trained and better equipped.”

 

“Thank you for the tip,” Gildor said as he picked up his arrow and replaced it in his quiver.