The Baram Venture

The Baram Venture

By

Lee Werrell

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Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty

© 2017 Lee Werrell

Published by: Lee Werrell

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Printed virtually in the UK with World-wide rights attached

Worldwide Film Rights Pending

Chapter 1 - Baram

Chapter 2 - The Hermit

Chapter 3 - The Woodcutter

Chapter 4 - The Way to Chram

Chapter 5 - Staron Joins

Chapter 6 - Aramell

Chapter 7 - Madra

Chapter 8 - The Resting Place

Chapter 9 - The Secrets Revealed

Chapter 10 - Illeander

Chapter 11 - Back to Chram

Book Two

Chapter 1 - True Colours

Chapter 2 - Manna’s Destiny

Chapter 3 - Illeander

Chapter 4 - The Taking of the City

Other Titles From The Author

About The Author

Chapter 1 - Baram

Night closed around the two travellers like a falling blanket of black cotton wool. The wisps of evening mist danced and teased before them, vanishing like a gypsy dancer when the travellers got too close. The sun had only just finished weaving its way through the thick trunks and canopy of trees that had been their shelter for three days and the sudden plunge into darkness seemed even more dramatic because of it.

A heavily wooded region this part of the Kingdom of Taron was reputed to be, and there was no evidence to challenge that belief here, except a slight thinning of the trees as a villagers’ evening lanterns filtered their light softly through the maze of trees, providing a beacon for the weary travellers to follow.

Travellers were these two, but lost the most definitely were not. If the truth were to be common knowledge these two were adventurers, in search of wealth and fortune. These two spent their time chasing across the lands following rumour, hearsay and myth, solving problems and puzzles before narrowing their prey down and seizing it with both hands. Unfortunately, their prey often turned out to be a pile of dirt or worse, already in the hands of others, if it ever existed at all. Odd jobs in repair or construction would usually sustain their food and shelter needs, filling their bellies and giving them a bed for the night. These two were a team, inseparable, often and many times, sharing a crust of bread or other meagre fayre when times were hard. Times were hard.

Saldon was the taller of the two. He stood a good six feet, towering over his companion, who on a good day reached Saldon's elbow. Saldon's deep brown hair, beard and eyes framed and caressed a smiling face, belying an outwardly happy man. Brown, almost Black leather armour covered his upper body with a glimpse of a cotton shirt beneath, which extended past the leather and covered his upper arms. His muscles showed through the armour giving the appearance of a second skin, yet this extra skin was studded with steel points. Studded wristbands matching the armour wrapped around the man's wrists. His long sword hung from a steel scabbard woven into the wide belt. The belt itself doubling as a bandoleer for the quarrels he used in the cross bow he rested on his shoulder as he walked.

Halon, apart from being the shorter of the two, was the brains of the partnership. He was well built but not stocky. Half man and half Elf, he had the stunning looks and the physical frame that made women sigh when he passed by, not that he ever took and heed. Maternally an Elven Princess, paternally a warrior of the human King Jondarren, who was killed over two generations ago, in the Great Wars. A short sword hung from his ornately worked leather armour, which explained why and how that this person, not being a true Elf, had been sent into the wilderness and the relationship between him, the medallion, depicting nine stars surrounding a merged sun and moon and the Elf Kingdom. All this was ascribed in Elven Runes - a language that Halon had carefully been dissuaded from learning. The writings, signs, almost scribble, was of no consequence to the wearer, he just thought it ornate. A short bow he slung across his chest and a quiver, with the arrows sticking over his shoulder like inquisitive chicks, bobbed up and down.

Baram, the village they approached, was a small hamlet with a few outlying farms within half a day’s walk to the southeast. The huge forest that they now travelled bound the Northeast and East and the North clipped a modest mountain range. To the west was a wooded area, not dense, but rough and too stony to be cultivated. To the Southwest wound a river with a meandering loop providing the local populace with drinking water for their cattle before it wandered off south, eventually cutting across to the east when it past the Jarg-Fyn Ferry settlement, a good ten or twelve leagues as the crow flies. This strange location provided three good-sized farms to border the river and be near enough to the village to provide a community spirit.

Neither traveller had been this way before, which was a good enough reason alone for them to go, if they were not searching for information about a land where rivers bubbled up gold and jewels to whomsoever was there at the right time. Easy pickings: the sort of adventure that meant little work and maximum gain, little risk and maximum pleasure. Too good to be true, but as Halon had explained to Saldon, it was a case of economics. If they were to find the magical river and take their load, dutifully, and little others managed to find their way there, then we would be wealthy and that wealth would be justified by the effort we have expended in finding the source. Halon always smiled between sentences. He continued; If, however we failed to take our deserved share of this wealth and everyone else in the world did, we would then be the poorer by it, and that would be unfair as well as unfortunate. We would then have to rely on the generosity of others to keep ourselves alive and that would be unfair on all concerned.

The friendly glow of lanterns from inside the houses cheered them as they crossed the village green toward the Inn, identified by the slightly creaking sign, swinging in the gentle evening spring breeze. Two rows of cottages with immaculate gardens flanked the inn, almost directing the travellers straight to the Inn, the community centre of most villages.

Well? Halon asked, looking up at his friend.

I hope they have a friendly Innkeeper and some work for us to do on the morrow. Saldon sighed.

Yes, my friend. Let us hope so.

Stamping their feet as they opened the door, trying to shake off the slight chill in the air before entering, the two travellers walked into the ale room. A long counter confronted them with barrels stacked up against the wall behind it, tended by a fat, balding man, slightly taller than Halon. Transferring ale from barrel to pitcher and pitcher to glasses occupied the barman's mind until he looked up and grinned at the newcomers. Groups of men sat all around the tables filling the ale room. They mainly talked amongst themselves, more likely about the strangers that just walked in, as the noise dropped when the door opened. All, that is, except a large table down the far end of the bar that were laughing aloud and spilling their ale. Everybody else seemed to ignore his joviality. All the tables glistened wet with spilt ale, not for the first time, and likely not for the last either.

Evenin' sirs. What can I do fer yer? asked the balding fat barman. Don't you go mindin' them lot, he nodded to the far table, one of 'em is back from is travels and is tellin' 'em wild stories.

Halon leant across the bar slightly, partly for the noise's sake, and also to dramatize his request.

We are travellers and are completely embarrassed of wealth at this time, but are willing to exchange our strength and keen eye for a plate of food and possibly somewhere to lay our heads tonight. He explained.

Well, the barman rubbed his chin, as if in great thought, yer don't look loike beggars. He chuckled.

Sir, Saldon interjected, please take my cross bow as security if you wish.

Oh, that won't be necessary, young fella. The barman looked flushed. I can see I can trust yers. I'll being summat over to yer in a few minutes. You go an' sit down somewhere.

Saldon looked around and saw, unsurprisingly, the only free seats were at table adjacent to the merry makers. Halon saw this also and just shrugged his shoulders and made his way over to the window seat. The window seat provided protection from the back and gave an all-round view of the bar, enabling a closer inspection of the locals, a necessary and fruitful pastime in some venues, if they wanted to stay alive.

All of the local men were dressed very much the same. Woven or leather clothes, stout footwear, hats were placed on tables and no weapons were visible, although they were sure to have skinning knives about them somewhere, except for the man who was telling his stories.

The storyteller sat in the corner of the room, rocking backward and forward on two legs of his chair. Facing the two travellers, he hardly noticed their arrival or their sitting, as he was deep in spinning another long yarn for his audience of villagers and farmers. A large black cape sat high on his shoulders, fastened by a silver chain and two star shaped, silver brooches. Beneath his cape he wore a leather jacket that was worked with some small jewels and metallised thread, giving a glittery appearance. None of the jewels seemed large enough to get in the way, but at the same time, served no purpose, only to boast the man's good fortune and wealth. A silver dagger was strapped to his side, just visible when he rocked back on his chair. On the table lay a jewel-encrusted sword. Sapphires and Emeralds adorned the silver hilt, amethyst and garnet dust glistened in the lantern light, giving the hilt an eerie glow.

Neither glow nor jewels were what caught Halon's attention. The item of his interest was the blade of the sword that was etched with a language and signs of some unknown language. This was something unseen by either of them before. Craftsmanship like that had not been seen in this land and the jewel work was obviously meticulous. Not that that meant the sword had any keener edge than any other, but it was certainly a good show.

'Ere you are sirs. The Innkeeper placed two plates of cold chicken, cheese, a loaf of bread and a pitcher of ale on the table with two goblets deftly removed from the pouch in his apron.

Thank you! Saldon exclaimed, enjoying his food as he did, especially in excess.

I'll explain to yer about payment in the mornin'. Oi've got a room an all if yer wants it. The Innkeeper grinned at the pair.

We are obliged. Halon thanked the man.

Now, you listen to 'im, nodding to the traveller again, 'E as many tales to tell, a good man as always was, but tends to exaggerate a bit, if yer gettin' my meanin'. He explained in a slightly hushed voice

Halon nodded in understanding and laughter erupted from the storyteller's table once more. More ale was spilt and the hearty chuckle of the teller cut through the laughter of the locals. He obviously enjoyed his own tales as much as anyone else, perhaps more!

Now my brother, began the story teller, patting the man to his right's shoulder, What would you have me relay to you now? Jewelled serpents of the depths? The beautiful women of the Far Islands? The strange triangular rocks in the mid-desert? What? He leaned back in his chair, making the legs creak violently, as he patted his stomach.

I....I.....I think we would like to hear of something mysterious; if you know of any such tales brother. The brother announced, looking all around for approval and getting it, like eager children waiting to be frightened with a ghost story.

Mysterious? Hmmm. The storyteller surveyed the faces of his audience. Very well, but! He sat forward suddenly and raised his finger. I don't know if I should tell you of this. He stared at them individually before slapping the table. Barman! More ale over here for my friends.

Turning back to his audience, a frown covered the storyteller's brow. He stared at the table, tracing the grain with his eye as the barman delivered the ale, took his money and went about his business again.

Is this a mysterious tale? Urged the brother, asking where others were too afraid to speak.

All right, my brother, as it is you and your good friends, I will tell you my story. But not a word to anyone. He gained commitment by touching his nose with his finger and alternately at each member of his audience until they nodded in agreement. I do not want you wives and girlfriends accusing me of encouraging you good men to up sticks and leave home in the search of ............ well... the things you are about to learn of.

Half of the men nodded as the other half shook their heads, all meaning the same waiver of responsibility for the storyteller.

Halon and Saldon did not need to strain to listen to the man talk. His voice carried well enough for them to pretend that they were not taking any notice and enjoying their meal.

Far in the east, the traveller began, shuffling his chair closer to the table and lowering his head a little, far in the east, across the waters of eternity, lay an enchanted land that used to be a kingdom. This kingdom was beautiful in its time, with its many fine statues, roads, buildings and a plethora of jewels. Jewels that are cut before they are dug up. Jewels that are the size of your fist! He threw his right fist on the table to add emphasis.

Rubies, Sapphires, Emeralds and others, all shapes and sizes. He stopped to survey the wide-eyed faces of his listeners, their heads filled with wonderment. In a great hall, inside a massive fortress, stands a pure gold statue, of at least six feet on a plinth which is as high as this room, maybe more. The crowd's eyes followed the travellers’ up to the roof and back. He continued, Inside the mouth of this gold serpent statue is a globe which it is said contains the power of healing and the power of death. It is said that many other powers are held within this Amber Globe and he who finds its secrets will bring good fortune to all his people and much personal reward. Far more than can be found in this wondrous land.

More? questioned a weasel-eyed man at the end of the table.

Far more than you could dream. There is much gold and silver, jewels and other gemstones in this place, but with the globe you can have far more. It is mentioned, in some very esoteric philosopher’s circles to have the power of the dawning of time and that this globe actually could break the world, it is that powerful.

And where is this great hall? Asked a square jawed man, next to the weasel, casting a look of disdain on all the wealth as though it were laid before them like a huge porridge, dripping off the edges of the table. Why 'asn't anyone nicked it yet? 'Ad it away like?

The Globe is kept in the Hall Of Arncaul, and to my knowledge there has been one man who has managed to get past all the obstacles and actually touched the globe. Many have tried but many have died in the attempt.

And this fella did 'e take it? asked the brother.

Stealing a mouthful of ale and swallowing hard, the storyteller ducked his head lower and hushed his voice a little. This man was a great and powerful adventurer from the south. It is said he uses magic to assist him in his quests, but no amount of magic could help him this time. As he reached out and touched the globe he paused and looked the audience’s faces, a fantastic force flowed through his body. Ten times brighter than lightning and more powerful than a hundred men, it lifted him up and after it had frazzled his body it threw the bones into a heap a hundred feet away. No one has ever returned from the city to tell his or her tale. I only heard about this guy from one of the guards.

Saldon looked at his companion and could almost read the thoughts as they flashed like summer lightning behind his eyes. A shiver went down his spine. Halon grinned.

Who guards this globe? asked a man at the travellers left.

More like what guards the Globe of the Hall of Arncaul. The 'Amber Globe' as it is known in the higher circles. What! Not who.

What guards this Amber Globe then?

Trolls and Dragons guard all access routes to this city, the mountain, which is called Illeander. Once past them, which is not easy in the barren scrubland plains that surround this huge mountain, but once past them you have to face the city guards. These guards are the most ferocious of fighters. Trained to the highest orders of discipline, they would sacrifice their lives before letting anyone past. If you manage to overcome, no, destroy the city guards; you then have to face the wizards. The Wizards of Illeander are among the most feared in all the known lands. They can and do, on a regular basis apparently, summon creatures and monsters of such ugliness and evilness that the air turns black with death and chickens a hundred leagues away stop laying. These creatures are more disgusting than hell itself. If you step into the inner city and face the wizards, the gods will surely abandon you. You would be doomed from the start, unless...........

Unless? The brother asked back.

Unless ............. you had an ally from within.

From within the city? Asked a small, wizened man from the brother's right.

"Yes. As far as I can see, it is the only way you could do it, but nobody knows what the people of Illeander look like. They are never seen outside the city. They all live under the ground, within the huge mountain. The guards are the only ones who are let out on patrols and they are covered from head to toe in black leather, with huge bulbous helmets that you cannot see into. I for one have no desire to travel to that place, no matter how big the jewels on the ground or the price that these golden statues may be worth. I have passed by on my travels but have never strayed near to it. I leave it to greater men than I to discover and unlock its