The Lost Lands of Reljae: Book Two of the Nimbus Rune Series

Copyright © 2005 by Jeremy Bechen

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Contents

P R O L O G U E

C H A P T E R 1

C H A P T E R 2

C H A P T E R 3

C H A P T E R 4

C H A P T E R 5

C H A P T E R 6

C H A P T E R 7

C H A P T E R 8

C H A P T E R 9

C H A P T E R 10

C H A P T E R 11

C H A P T E R 12

C H A P T E R 13

C H A P T E R 14

C H A P T E R 15

C H A P T E R 16

C H A P T E R 17

C H A P T E R 18

C H A P T E R 19

C H A P T E R 20

C H A P T E R 21

C H A P T E R 22

C H A P T E R 23

C H A P T E R 24

C H A P T E R 25

C H A P T E R 26

C H A P T E R 27

C H A P T E R 28

C H A P T E R 29

C H A P T E R 30

P R O L O G U E

This is the world of Akris during the year 103 A.G. Akris was a once glorious planet filled with adventure and beauty, but those times are in the past as creatures called humans breed like rats. And with their barbarious ways, over time they have littered the known lands ofAkris, destroying everything in their path to create bigger and better luxurious kingdoms where greed rules. Even goblins, rogna, and other so called monsters have fled in the humans wake, retreating far into the diminishing forests of the lands, afraid of the human’s numbers. Elves, dwarves, Haflings, and other races of good residing on Akris are too few and have a hard enough time dealing with other species of their own kind to form any kind of alliance to halt the human surge across the lands. The only things that have somewhat of a chance ofkeeping the human population in check are disease and warfare.

These are bad times where famine and chaos reign supreme with the gods mysterious disapearance from this world. So too has their guidance to the races and the balance of all things on Akris as human kingdoms wage wars upon each other, attempting to gain the lands and supplies of the others to grow in power and prestige. Elven societies clash amongst their cousins, dwarven clans who all too easily choose to ignore the outside world from within their mountain kingdoms do not concern themselves with the climaxing problem. Gnomes who think the problems of the outside world will never have any repercussions upon them also ignore the escalating troubles on the surface.

Across the sea on the other continent that flourishes on Akris lies Alanon, the land of deadly srictaerery and poisoned blades. Here five nations battle for control over all of Alanon. Each nation is made up of a subspecies of human, each with their own unique specialties interwoven within their genetics and holding absolute disdain for one another; keeping everything in check. Though chaos wages on Alanon, the inhabitants lack many of the problems faced on Akris as population is held in check from overpopulation. With the exception of magical battles, the lands aren’t being cut down or poisoned. Alanon, you could say is somewhat Akris’s opposite, for where overpopulation proves to be one lands problem, the others will soon be underpopulated; for there is too much bloodshed.

With so much power given to the ignorant and stupid on Akris, fear finds its way into the minds of the wise and intelligent as they can see what troubles lie ahead in this world, if it continues to go unchecked. The balance has been disrupted and as all seekers of history know, if balance lies flawed for too long than the universe will find a way to restore that balance. It takes no prisoners and mercy is not an option.

Now welcome to my mind

C H A P T E R 1

Are you sure you don’t have any need of me, Crochek?

No my dear, I am going to stay in Ulan for awhile and get some well needed rest, now that my cargo has been delivered safely.

The old man looks at Tirine, his faithful mercenary who has accompanied him on manyjourneys, delivering his goods to the fine towns and cities ofAkris. Sadness touches Crochek’s heart, seeing her deep blue eyes filled with desperation for companionship and adventure. I tell you what Tirine, how about you take a room next to mine? It’s on me until you find another merchant to go adventuring with.

At Crochek’s comment, a smile spreads over her tanned face. Tirine pulls her shoulder length black hair back, exposing the innocence hiding behind all that pain she has endured from her lonely past. She is sure good with her two short swords and handles the road very well, but when that all ends, she is like a child Crockek thinks. He has taken quite a liking to her over the past year and has treated her much like a daughter.

The two of them grab their belongings and head to their rooms. After a couple days of rest and Crochek’s company, Tirine sets out to explore the mild city of Ulan, the largest kingdom in the south central region of Akris; a kingdom Tirine has never been to before.

Always armed, Tirine has dumped her armor at her room and moves about in a bronze skirt whipping about her knees in the slight breeze and a white short sleeve tunic that loosely flows below her waist, concealing a gray hilted dagger and her leather belt made with slits evenly spaced out for containing eight throwing knives. Making her way down the avenues filled with all sorts of people heading to the central market, Tirine learns that all of the main streets lead to this area, the center of town where during the day beasts of all kinds roam, some for sale, others as pets and work animals. Their stench resulting in the wrinkling of her nose as the street Tirine has chosen to follow opens up into the giant merchant’s circle where one may obtain goods from around the world.

Curious by nature, Tirine takes everything in as all the new and wonderful sights keep her feeling happy, though she always keeps an eye out for any who would harm or rob her. She has learned early in life not to trust just anybody.

Tirine fights her way through the crowds and asks some of the merchants who have set up stands in the circle if theywill be traveling out ofUlan anytime soon. After a few hours struggling to find a merchant who would have use ofhiring her, Tirine gives up hope, for all the products on display none will please Tirine as the rush of adventure and escaping her past is what she is looking for. It is all that drives this young lady stuck in this harsh world without a friend.

Looking for shelter from the intense heat of the sun, Tirine chooses the Red Ale Inn, the nearest place where she may find something to eat and to cool down. Tirine needs a drink since her body is not accustomed to this southern heat.

Tirine makes her way into the light tan blocked walls of the tavern; many eyes are upon her as she finds a table and quickly sits down. Feeling uncomfortable under the obvious scrutiny of the group of men to her left, who are laughing as they make perverted comments about her, Tirine puts her head down, averting her blue eyes from the host of men; not wanting to deal with their ilk.

A waitress is by her side in moments to take her order.

Don’t let them bother you. They are just immature dogs who have to slobber over any well sculpted woman because they are too ugly and dumb to actually sleep with one. By the way, what is a woman of your youthful age doing in a smelly old tavern like this anyhow? the waitress asks.

I have recently arrived in town and the mid-day sun has sapped my strength, I’m afraid. I was escorting a merchant caravan from Cidrel, and now that I am done with that trip, I’m out looking for another merchant who is in need ofhiring any guards.

Well I overheard that friendly group of jackasses who have been harassing you talk about heading north on some expedition. Other than that I haven’t heard anything.

Thanks for the information miss; I’ll just have a water thank you, Tirine says. As the waitress walked off to retrive her water, Tirine loses her appetite as she looks over at the group of men who were now giving her cruel looks.

As she quenches her thirst, Tirine dwells on her task at hand, worrying that nobody will have use of her except possibly the bunch of mongrels still looking at her with crazed eyes. Hating to be stuck in one place for too long, she thinks of the open road where anything can happen which brings a genuine smile to her face. Off adventuring or escorting caravans is the only time she feels alive and worth something. It is times like these, stuck in a city out of her element, where she begins feeling depressed and worthless as thoughts of her past where she was all alone except for her mother who rarely acknowledged her existence. As an unwanted child sired by a member of a traveling band of adventurers who didn’t even know he had a daughter. Her mother was stuck with raising this ill-conceived child, and despised her existence.

Miserable and friendless, except for the short lived relationships where her so-called friends cheated or told her lies for their own gain, Tirine learned to distrust everyone and chose not to be involved with people who would one day stab her in the back. Tirine has run from this her whole adult life. Learning combat techniques to fend off any future conflicts with people who would treat her as trash, Tirine has dedicated her life to fighting. When she reached the age of thirteen her mother threw her out to the streets to fend for herself. On the streets she scavenged to survive and after a couple of hard fought years she fled the city of Hantilla, hiding in the back of a wagon belonging to a merchant. When the merchant found her, he took pity on this poor child and brought her along on his journeys, having his men train her in the art of combat, as was her request. These visions of her past run through her head, haunting her as they always do when she isn’t on the road. This is why she was contemplating offering her services to the rash group of mercenaries on her left.

I can’t take this laying around with nothing to do. I haven’t been off duty three days and already I am starting to freak out. I must leave this city as soon as I can or these demons will eat what sanity I have left, Tirine thinks to her self. Setting the empty glass of water down, Tirine gets up and with a sigh starts for the noisy bunch of drunks, now commenting on her fine ass, along with the many things they would enjoy doing to it.

Pulling herself away from these depressing thoughts, Tirine clenches her jaw and prepares for the barrage of negative comments that will be tossed her way. On her way over she overhears some of the men talking about traveling to the northwest. Excited that the waitress’s information was correct, Tirine continues listening very carefully. She finds out these men will be heading to the savage lands where they are going to barter with barbarian tribes.

Having heard enough and endured the grimy smirks of these men long enough, her presence is felt by the whole group and all talk about their mission stops.

I couldn’t help but overhear you mentioning that you are going north to trade goods with the barbarians, and I was wondering if your group could use another hired hand? Tirine says in a shy voice.

Laughter erupts from the group at Tirine’s words. A woman, what are you going to do, cook and satisfy our manly urges? another man shouts. When he finishes his rude comment, Tirine holds a dagger up to his throat, ending the laughter abruptly.

If all you are going to do is be a childish band of goblins than please allow me to drag your asses outside and show you how I handle such pigs. The icy tone commands respect and assures the men she is pissed off. Though she has a dagger at one of their throats, they assume this little girl doesn’t have the nerve to go through with her threat, so the six seasoned veterans begin to stand.

We have no room for a dirty whore the likes of you on our trip, though I will guarantee you that all seven of us at this table are going to have our way with you soon enough.

A man goes for a knife on the table and quickly realizes his mistake as one of Tirines throwing knives sticks into the man’s grasping hand with such force it lodges itself into the solid oak table. The impressive lightning fast motion of her attack and the coolness of her emotionless face, encourage the other five men to sit back down and hear this one out before she sends more knives airborne.

Now I will ask again, does your provider require another blade, or do I have to injure a few more of you to open up a spot for me? Tirine spits out directing her words to the burly bearded man who told her moments before they had no room for her.

The men at the table say nothing to this fierce looking female who has gotten the best of them. Before her patience ran out, a man from a nearby table had watched the whole transaction. He stands up in his fine earth toned clothing, The way you handled yourself there with my guys was quite impressive. I would be a fool not to hire you along through the savage lands. They can be rather treacherous, fraught with bands of goblinoids and other such perilous creatures. Now that I have your attention young lady my name is Nordroki, and I am the leader of this band here. I apologize for their actions, but what would you expect from mercenaries? You are rather bold confronting a table ofhard seasoned men and drawing your weapon.

How else would one such as I gain the serious attention of those men?

Well you sure don’t look the role of a mercenary, but that you have proven without a doubt. Come sit with me and my head guard Merik.

Tirine loosens up her hold on the frightened man named Denrog, and slowly watching the man as she sheaths the gray hilted dagger, searches his eyes for any hint of malice. Finding none, she strolls over to Nordroki’s table and seats herself next to Merik. Observing this head guard, she notes his demeanor is more serious. He wears a loose fitting white vest and olive pants which are clean unlike those slobs at the other table whose clothes are grubby, matching their attitudes. This head mercenary seems under control and somewhat intelligent at least, Tir-ine thinks.

Tirine speaks first getting right to business, not in the mood to exchange idle nonsense with these two men. What does this journey consist of Nordroki?

Well I suppose we can skip the formalities and get right to the point. These men here in the bar and many more, including two mages will assist me with guarding the wagons. First we reach the barbarian tribes who meet with us every year at this time to exchange materials. We also gather herbs that are only known to grow in the lands to the northwest. Once this is done we head south, and cross the only path leading into the Ithra forest. Here is the most crucial part of the journey. Finding the path has proven difficult in the past as our mage’s spells to locate this pass won’t work near the forest. The elves that inhabit this particular area of the forest aren’t well versed in the ways ofkindness toward any other race save for their species only. If you stray from the path you will get one warning, and they will know when one has veered away from the path that they allow us to travel. None have ventured any further to find out what happens, if you choose to ignore this warning, my guess would be that mistake would be fatal.

Worse yet is a large patch of woods north of this pass where these elves allow us outsiders to travel along, Nordroki continues. They say those woods are haunted and ruled by a devil, while others claim him to be an archwizard. No one has ever entered the forest, and I tell you just being in eye sight of that place sends goose bumps up and down my body. I would hate to ever meet this devil or wizard called Darien.

Merik is deathly pale at the mentioning of this devil and hangs his head low for the duration of Nordroki’s tale.

Who is this Darien, Tirine asks?

It is said Darien Albringer fought in the Skull Wars one hundred some years ago. This is where he went mad, destroying anything that rose against him without concern for the well being of others such as his wife, whom he murdered as she lay injured. His madness spares no one. To trouble him is to die. After the war he soon overran a section of the Ithra Forest. The mysterious jerinian race and the arrogant Cirien elves where unable to contain his evil. They have lived alongside the haunted domain with no way of overpowering this Darien.

I have told this to everyone before they agree to offer their services to me. This trip in the past has been rocky, and has almost caused major casualties. But as you can see, I have survived every time over the past ten years, and the pay wouldn’t be so high if there weren’t any risks involved. The journey will take up to four and a half months ofharsh travel. So what do you say Tirine, do you still want to take this assignment?

Your damn right I do Nordroki, Tirine says while the chair is shot behind her from the quick and anxious movement of her body. She leans over the table, hands spread wide on the tabletop, meeting Nordroki’s gaze with unyielding determination in her eyes.

Very well Tirine, we leave tomorrow at sunlight. Have all your gear ready, and don’t be late. For the caravan moves out of the circle with or without you, Nordroki says sternly. You will get paid a small amount as soon as we pass the town of Baron. The rest will come to you when the mission is complete and we arrive in Cidrel. It will be more than any other job you have done before. Turning to Merik, Nordroki smiles and whispers, We have a real live one here. I think we are going to enjoy her spirit for adventure, and the fearless attitude could prove to be quite beneficial if a battle ensues.

Merik’s brown eyes take in his new comrade, interested in the days to come how this one will handle herself with a band of male mercenaries alongside her.

Well, tomorrow it is then, Tirine says as she nods to Nordroki and gives Merik one last look.

His chin length brown hair matches the whiskers filling in on his rugged face. The strong built man of normal height, five foot six, nods back and then begins conversing with Nordroki. Tirine dwells on the man who will be calling the shots on the field for the next four months. All the way back to her room she tries to figure out what she can about the mercenary until she meets Crochek and tells him the good news. Then she hurries to ready her belongings and turns in to sleep early to gather energy that will be needed. For a luxurious rest such as this will not come again for quite some time.

Tirine is up well before the sun lifts its rays upon the land. Everything is ready and she heads to the merchants circle; the meeting place for the group she will be traveling with.

Making her way down the streets of Ulan, the cool morning breeze blows the hair from her face. She enjoys it to the fullest, knowing all too soon the southern heat will be beating down on her armored body. Tirine is prepared for battle, suited in gold decorative shoulder plates along with her shin guards that span from heel to knee. The chest plate also is accented in gold around the gray-ish blue armor. Scale mail covers her exposed legs and arms as her chest, stomach, and back are protected by a formly suit of plate mail.

She feels good in her protective gear that has molded to her body from years of use. Excitement fills her with energy, as her relieved mood carries her to Merchant’s Circle where sixty strong armed men are huddled around horse pulled wagons.

Excitement turns to dread when she spots the large group, knowing they will be eyeing her the whole way to the gathering. Here she will then have to deal with their nonsense until she proves herself as a competent mercenary. This is always the part Tirine hates when embarking with a new group.

Slowly she fights through her nervousness and enters the open circle. The attention of the group turns fully upon her. With nothing to mask her presence in the least, the exposed setting intensif Ies the nervousness built up now within her. Every footstep is awkward as she concentrates on keeping an outward calmness, not wanting these hyenas to see through to what she is truly feeling. They would surely tear into her like mad if they did. After what seemed to last an eternity, Tirine finally reaches the wagons. Her eyes have been searching the crowd desperately for Nordroki or Merik, who would ease the nervousness and return some sort of control back to her. Not finding any sign of them she turns her back to the group and ignores the men’s laughs and perverted conversations about what they would like to do to this vulnerable female who has the gall to join their group in this dangerous mission.

Anger wells up within her, wishing she had the power to confront those dirty assholes and strike the arrogance from them, demanding respect, but she is powerless in this situation. She just leans against a wagon and lets hatred brew within her.

Finally Tirine is relieved. Nordroki shows up talking with the two mages who have signed up for this mission. An older mage with a short gray beard wears a red robe with symbols of magic running along the outside of it in gold. On the other side of Nordroki is a man in his forties wearing a plain dark gray robe, his long black hair and mustache give him a more sinister look than the other mage.

Merik carries his helm in one of the gauntleted hands and is now dressed for business. Plate mail covers his front and back as scale mail runs down his arms and legs. A blue cape rustles in the wind at his back.

More mercenaries follow Merik and Nordroki to the circle. Merik breaks away from his companion once Tirine is spotted by him. Walking over to her with great confidence and a smile on his face, he stops before her. Well, well you didn’t back out now did you? My men were betting to see if you would show up this morning.

Scrolling over Tirine’s body, taking in her gear amongst other things, Merik notes the professional look about her in the war attire. I see you have come prepared Tirine. A belt lined with knives and a dagger in your boot, plus a small shield and twin short swords, not bad.

I figured I would need every weapon I could carry, traveling with the likes of this bunch.

Merik smiles at this statement. If you would like, you may travel next to me. These men won’t harass you as much that way though they may harass me a little.

I feel so much better already, Tirine says sarcastically. Tirine fits a bandana laced with square metal fittings outlined in gold around her head and pulls her light helm over the bandana, leaving the metal fittings exposed as she climbs upon a light brown horse and readies to depart.

The small battalion heads out of Ulan; six wagons holding the mages, Nor-droki, and nine mercenaries who steer the horses pulling the two passengers and the enclosed wagon. The seventy some mercenaries around the caravan ride their own horses with Merik at point, Tirine right by his side.

Well Merik, this is quite the crew of mercenaries you are in charge of.

Yes it is, these trips to the savage lands consist oflarge groups of experienced men. It is necessary considering there aren’t any towns or cities for hundreds of miles to stop at for aid or supplies. The chances of running into enemies are rather high since they roam freely and in great numbers unlike the eastern lands where armies who guard cities keep goblinoids in check, and other monsters away from main roads and towns. There isn’t a safe road to travel, though we ride the forest edge the whole way until we reach the Devils Forest as we call Darien’s domain, he says quietly as if not trying to envoke some unseen wrath at the mention of the forest. Up until then we have the safety of the forest to retreat into if an insurmountable foe attacks us from the plains. We aren’t as likely to be attacked from creatures within the Ithra Forest, most tribes and other threats of the woodland dwell deeper inside it. We have fought creatures who have wandered out of the woods on a few occasions though.

Have you faced many encounters in the past Merik?

In the past five years that I have traveled this route, there have been a fair share of conflicts on each. The engagements are usually minor; nothing two mages can’t handle. When they have come from the plains, our mages have plenty of time to prepare devastating spells which usually ends the situation at hand. This is actually the safer part of the trip, it’s when we travel back through the Ithra Forest that we face the greatest danger, and is when us mercenaries earn our pay. This is where casualties can pile up and is why the number of mercenaries is so great. Ambushes are all too possible even though the mages have detect evil spells, the attack can be overwhelming and sudden. Smarter goblinoid shamans can disrupt our mage’s spells, masking their presence and unleashing deadly spells of their own. Luckily for me and my crews of the past, no such group has attempted to kill us. Usually while crossing through the forest, encounters are to be expected along with casualties. When these attacks happen, it is our job to fend the foes off long enough for the mages to ready their spells. Keeping the enemy from reaching the wagons is crucial. If they destroy them, the mages will go with them and so to our chances of surviving. I’m sure this little talk has eased your mind a bit," Merik mentions sarcastically.

I should have been notif Ied long before we left Ulan, but that part should prove to be interesting, she responds surprisingly enthusiastic considering she could die in those woods, Merik notes to himself.

Is this woman insane? His eyes go wide making crap out of her to himself.

So what is the real story behind Devils Forest anyhow? I have heard some crazy stuff about it, and most of it sounds really absurd. At the mention of the stories surrounding Devils Forest, Merik turns his head from Tirine’s view, hiding his traumatized expression and revealing Meriks frightened feelings toward that place. After the initial trauma is over, Merik gets control of himself and turns facing the open road. Not directly looking at Tirine, he tells her to ask Nordroki, or the mage sitting with him. They would know more about it than he would. Detecting Meriks discomfort, Tirine dismisses the topic and directs her mount away to leave him alone.

Weeks go by and they have stocked up maximum supplies in Baron and have crossed the beautiful Lake Lusideous. As they see the Ithra Forest in the distance, dark clouds form over head and thunder soon follows the torrential downfall. Lightning spiders across the sky, lighting it up while the miniature dots below push their horses to the limit, trying to reach the cover of the protective trees. In a good hour and a half they are pummeled by the thick rains and are bent over their mounts, listening to Merik and a few others bitch the whole way to the forests’ edge. Entering the forest, the miserable group shed their clothes, drying the armor off and pulling dry outfits from their individual packs. Tirine ventures further into the woods, looking over her shoulder constantly, making sure none of these perverts in her company tries to follow her to sneak a peek or attempt to rape her. Once she feels safe, as everybody was too preoccupied with themselves to notice her, Tirine changes and wipes the water off of her armor. She then rejoins the group resting next to Nordroki and his riding partner on the wagon.

The mage introduced as Curoantheis sits next to Nordroki and looks to the newcomer. After some idle chatter between Nordroki and Tirine, the mage fades away from their nonsense until Tirine mentions the Devils’ Forest up north. Noticing the interest Curoantheis takes in the question, Tirine adds that Merik had told her to ask them about the strange place, that they would be able to fill her in on more of the information about this section of forest.

Curoantheis lights up at Tirine’s questions and tries to answer them as best he can. Always in the mood to discuss things magical or unexplained, the old mage rambles on, his green eyes sparkling as the wrinkles covering his forehead move up and down with the gray eyebrows.

So why do they call it Devils Forest? I mean all know devils thrive on the plane ofBesciel. And if one happened to be free upon Akris for a hundred years, wouldn’t it have caused havoc by now?

Well nobody knows for certain what this Darien Albringer is. Many humans who hear the tales about Darien’s actions in the Skull Wars and the dominance the being must portray to have stolen land from the jerinian, swear he is demonic in nature. Darien has also changed the entire forest he now controls and has made it impossible to enter. These powers have made the nai’ve people of the towns and cities believe him to be a devil as well. We mages, wizards, and sorcerers believe this Darien to be an extremely powerful magic-user, possibly a master of the three orders. Over a century ago, Darien Albringer stepped into the most powerful wizardholt on Akris, asking questions which were way beyond any wizard there. Many spells were laid on him and most slid right off, unraveling before their eyes. Few spells remained intact and worked on him, though they said it was as if they worked only because the stranger allowed them too. What they discovered about him, wasn’t much. This Darien they learned, was no demon or any other such evil apparition, nor was he exactly human either. For we magic weilders are slightly evolved humans, and he was way beyond our evolutionary state.

My kind has flocked to the outskirts of the archwizard’s forest on many occasions. We attempted to study the land under Darien’s control, but the magical energies surrounding the borders were beyond any of us. So powerful was this energy that none dared fool with it. For the one thing the foreign energy did let us know was to disobey the master of this land and attempt to enter without his permission, promises an agonizing death. No one has been able to understand these energies in over a century of study. This magic must be drawn from some other plane of existence none have found before, or this Darien isn’t of this world.

Curoantheis goes on answering Tirine’s next question before she can even ask it. His forest resembles the Ithra Forest in that the tall lush ferns and the sturdy oaks are numerous, and during the spring the only way one can tell where the Ithra Forest stops and Darien’s begins, save for an alien aura emitting from it and this can only be seen by those trained in the ways of sight, are the different colors the leaves turn. During summer months the leaves turn colors of all kinds, even the branches turn colors. Autumn brings colored formations which are truly beautiful, and at various times the air within the forest thickens and changes to a colored fog rolling out of the edges of the land and up into the sky. I have witnessed many of these occasions which are fascinating to see. Magic-users from around the realms gather just outside this magical land seeming to exist on another plane altogether and here at the same time. It is quite a stimulating experience seeing the shades of blues, purples, reds, and so on. Magic-users of good, neutral, and evil hold this forest and its master in the highest regard, and this place has been named sacred ground to my people, where all come and coincide together in peace and meditation.

This is why I agree to join my friend Nordroki on these journeys of his. You never know what you will discover adventuring in the savage lands, Curoan-theis’s words staywith Tirine as she lies down to sleep, carrying these thoughts of mystery and tales told of a being called Darien off to her dreamland.

I travel in unexplored lands and you never know what you’ll run into, she says to herself. Her love for exploring new territories gives her tingles as the waves of anticipation and excitement runs along her body, and her mind summons Tir-ine’s most cherished desires.

In days to come as they travel through the Argoth Forest, Tirine and the group behold a castle chiseled in the mountainside and an undiscovered race that resides in it. Held in thrall by the reality of what she is seeing brings the biggest smile to her delicate lips, as she basks in the perfect feeling of happiness. This is what she has dreamed of since she was a little girl. All of her demons are gone and now all she needs is a true friend and she would have it all. All of her dreams go crashing away as she is pulled from her rest by Denrog.

What is it Denrog? she says glaring at him viciously.

Quickly Denrog holds his finger to his mouth, urging her to be silent and whispers, The sentries have heard many movements deeper within the woods and have wakened us all to evacuate our position now.

Tirine is ready in moments, her adrenaline pumping, she feels alive and mounts her horse. The other mercenaries ready for battle as well, though she won’t be seeing any tonight as they head out in the darkness of the night, back into the thunderstorm, away from the threat of the forest.

The mercenaries race long into the night, keeping as much distance between them and the noises in the woods, not taking any chances. The storm ends early into the morning and Nordroki calls for a halt when the sky shows its first signs of sun light. Saturated capes are cast off immediately, and rations are passed to each member of the group.

Later in the day they walk their mounts, allowing them to rest after pushing them so hard the previous night. Tirine walks up to Merik when he isn’t preoccupied with the other men and asks him what he knows about these savage lands that have been so minutely explored by the civilized lands.

All I can tell you Tirine, is that they are clans of a sub species of humans whose skin pigment is of a deep red. They occupy the southern half of these lands and are an unpredictable species ofhuman. Since they don’t run into many of us white skinned humans, they are unsure how to react to us. I know little of their ways of life or even what god they worship if any at all. From what I have been told is these kargens as they are called have great abilities in stealth and war. They are also quite intelligent people who are ruled by the most powerful warrior much the same as the barbarians of the north, or by great shamans, it differs a bit from tribes.

The barbarians roam the northern region, and are more notorious than the kargens, but their ways are known to only a few other than themselves. Their height is only a few inches taller than that of the kargens of the south, but their mass is considerably higher, weighing on an average of two hundred and fifty pounds, where the kargen males are around one hundred and eighty pounds. The females are usually fifty pounds lighter and are vicious fighters, skilled with weapons favored by the tribes.

They continue walking their mounts, talking sometimes. Merik keeps a watchful eye on the grasslands, always looking for creatures laying in wait to spring upon them unexpectedly. Tirine gazes out peacefully, admiring the wonderful terrain, glad she has taken this opportunity to observe sights most of the world has chosen to ignore. The raw untamed aspect of the land is unlike any she has seen on all of her travels on Akris. Nothing is as natural and undisturbed as it is here. The fresh air blows on strong gusts of winds, causing the three to four foot tall grass, to sway hypnotically back and forth all the way out to where the grass reaches up to twelve feet tall. All is well for the group and spirits are high as everyone seems to have put civilian life aside and are enjoying the freedom of the west.

C H A P T E R 2

There it is Gwyn, the most beautiful sight on the entire planet. I love the view from the top of the world, Rowen says with awe, crouching on the highest peak on Talaran Mountain.

Here they look down to the lush forests of the elves, spanning for hundreds of miles connecting to their home land just beyond the Ithra Forest. From this vantage point hundreds of miles away on top of the mountain peak, they can distinctly see the dividing line of trees where Darien’s land begins and the Ithra Forest stops. The intricately carved path of the blue, orange, and yellow colored leaves, differ from the usual green of the Ithra and everywhere else on the planet. The light blue waters of Lake Elquin to the north and the clear waters of Lake Lucideous to the south are so crisp and clean it’s breathtaking. Hovering inches above the highest peak of the Talaran Mountain, Gwyn’s sleek metallic black cloak, made by elven hands flaps in the strong winds bundled around her body. Her long black hair is only held down in the wind by a brass hair piece that hangs down to her lightly pointed ears that differ from the elves of the world whose ears are pointed more drastically. Her milky green hand extends through an arm hole in the cloak holding a staff, whose top transforms into a crystal trictah. Looking as if the staff’s wooden bottom was just an illusion, Gwyn’s staff glows a golden color as she uses its power to maintain her proper body temperature, keeping the elements from affecting her.

After Rowen has taken his fill, he smiles at Gwyn, signaling that he is ready to scale down the mountain. She begins her descent, staying close to her mate, but never touching the snow covered cliffs. Rowen on the other hand finds great pleasure in the hike down the mountain, as it tests his physical skills that he has been fine tuning ever since he was rescued seven years back and brought to the Yelan Woods, where his differences were accepted and his talents could be exposed to him completely.

A ranger at heart, Rowen is use to physical feats, this allows him to climb down the mountainside with ease, making it look like child’s play. His silver tinted green cape remains above his waist for the majority of the descent. The constant drops and darting movements fill the cape with air, leaving his bare tanned arms exposed to the elements which his mind has been trained to ignore. Bright silver chain mail made with dwarven mithral for its strength, and enchanted with elven magic for its light weight, hangs over his upper body. Flexible brown leather pants meet high black boots with silver buckles that endures the harsh use Rowen puts on them. Rowen’s left hand grips a bow lined with silver. Just below that hand rests his long sword, hanging from his black leather belt as does his dagger on the opposite side.

After Rowen has had his fun scaling down the treacherous mountain side hollering sounds of exhilaration, Gwyn lifts him up gently and levitates them both down the remainder of the way over the sloping terrain where patches of evergreens and spruces surround them as they reach the bottom of the Talaran.

I hope Darien isn’t disappointed that we didn’t bring this vega we talked to in Cidrel back with us. It has been some time since we have encountered another like us out there. Nor have we had a new guest in Yelan for many years, Gwyn mentions.

It’s just as well Gwyn, none of us are really sociable beings for the most part, our kind keep to themselves and choose to ignore the world outside of our home. Take our homeland for example. There are twenty some of us and a handful of others Darien has allowed to live there. Some of us have bonded to one or two others and remain at thy side for the majority of the time. Only occasionally does everyone gather together for social events. Many leave by themselves, venturing out for years until they finally return, never telling anyone of us where he or she is going or when theywill return with the exception ofDarien. He has bonded with all of us and everyone loves and respects him, which is why he is filled in, and the fact that he runs the show in Yelan. Who knows how a new member would be received? Everyone is set in their ways and are comfortable with that. And maybe a new member would bother everyone. I know I would keep an eye on him ifhe decided to take our offer.

I see your point Rowen. Your always thinking negatively.

It has nothing to do with being negative or positive. That’s just how it is. Well people born with the energies of the goodly gods have more enlightened attitudes, like what if Frandel accepted our offer to join us home and fit right in. Who knows, maybe even make a difference in our homeland? And ifhe did, what would he change Gwyn? Our home is the greatest place on Akris, what possibly could he do to change Yelan for the better?

I don’t know Rowen. It’s just a thought.

No it isn’t! That notion is absurd and you know it. He may have fit in fine and possibly changed some of the relationships within the forest, but not drastically. Come on now, be serious!

Okay you’re probably right Rowen.

Then why argue my point, Rowen quickly interrupts. They drop their debate and begin walking, as Gwyn’s spell of levitation has been relinquished.

I love the feeling here, Gwyn happily expresses, changing the subject. All this land undisturbed by prejudice and the busy everyday hectic lives of the city folk. And the sounds here are soothing. Birds sing their songs and squirrels wrestle around with acorns while they scurry up trees, jumping limb from limb. If you are fortunate you can hear elven music playing in the distance. The cities are full of commotion, creating all sorts of irritating chatter and all of the traffic kicks up mouthfuls of dirt. I definitely belong here in nature, far away from the overpopu-lated and complicated life in civilization where war and greed reign.

You’re right Gwyn. We are blessed to live among the western forests, even though they are inhabited by all kinds of evil creatures. But we know where not to tread, plus Darien has rid all potential enemies from Yelan. Thank the stars for Darien, if it wasn’t for him neither of us would have had a place to go after we almost got lynched long ago. He took us from the lonely and despairing paths we once walked and placed us in paradise.

Don’t forget he also attuned us to our powers and helped us master them Rowen. Darien has molded us into what we are today.

A few days of swift travel brings Rowen and Gwyn to the doorstep of the jerinian city northeast ofYelan, and the last stop before the two vegas turn for home.

Walking through the depths of the forest, Gwyn and Rowen sense the presence of the jerinian sentries guarding the outskirts of their land, from the high vantage points in the trees above. Jerinians holding drawn bows, balance themselves on the branches all around, as spear and sword wielding sentries circle the two intruders on the forest floor. The jerinian guard their borders expertly.

Jerinian sentries quickly swarm the two startled humanoids who were awaiting their arrival. Tthey expected to be welcomed in a friendlier manner. Not completely familiar with many jerinian, Rowen holds his hand up, dangling from it is the seal of Aldrin. Bows, spears, and swords are lowered when the two jerinian that have come within a couple of feet from the intruders, and have inspected the seal to be genuine, wave them off. Looking at it hard one speaks in jerinian. You have business with the high one? she asks, looking at the two in a puzzling manner, as if trying to place who and what these creatures are.

Noting the confusion on the two jerinians faces, Rowen announces to them using Gwyn’s magic to communicate. I am Rowen Dendryn and with me is my soul friend Gwyn Netreties. We are from Yelan. Darien has sent us here to deliver some herbs we gathered in Cidrel.

Enlightenment washes over the jerinian faces as the pieces begin to fit into place. Sorry for drawing our weapons on you; we were quite unclear as to whom you were and your intentions. I am Elraen Vereniliom and my counterpart here is Cyressa Yellondriara.

It is a pleasure to meet two beings from Yelan, Cyressa says. We haven’t seen your kind before. Only Darien has the right to visit us and he is human.

Raising his hand up in an open palm, Rowen signals her to stop as Cyressa begins to apologize as Elraen has. Your apologies are unnecessary. If you would have acted any differently towards our presence here in your land, then I would question the high regards in which Darien has put your kind. You were only doing what you are supposed to do, no harm done. I appreciate you not sinking arrows into us before you questioned our motives though, Rowen says with a smile.

We’ll escort you to Aldrin so you will meet no further misunderstandings.

Thank you Elraen. Your company shall be interesting, since Rowen and I haven’t known any jerinian save for Elaria, Aldrin’s daughter. She visits Darien quite often and has made a rather splendid impression of your kind.

Cyressa’s musical voice whispers through the trees. Carried by the wind, her words inform the other jerinian of the sentinel guard to carry on as usual, that she and Elraen will be along later.

Listening hypnotically to Cyressa’s jerinian words until Elraen breaks the hold on the two especially unique humanoids, the four head on their way to the jerinian city Celentria Aria. On the way Elraen explains just alittle ofhow his race differs from the only other civilized race in the Ithra Forest, the Cirien elves. He points out his light grayish skin with a hue of blue revealed on his arms and face.

The Cirien elves of the southern Ithra Forest have light tan skin and their eyes are golden browns and greens, while like mine are blue or Cyressa’s silver can also be purple. Our skin color varies with each individual. Light gray is always the base skin color, but the hue of this gray differs with us all. Each color and its shade represents much about the individual’s temperament and abilities. The elves do not share these features and are alittle taller than we are. Some even move into the human cities of the south.We are more isolated than these elves and do not live among any other race. We are happy here in these peaceful woods where time hasn’t touched and the goblinoids of the forest can be less frightening than humans sometimes. At least with them, you know where they stand. Celentria Aria is enchanted, making it nearly impossible to be found by those unwelcome. It is the only way to make sure we don’t risk the chance of losing our wonderful home. You’ll find that our city is quite the treasure, and our peace and safety are our first priority. Much the same as it is with Darien to Yelan.

As Cyressa and Elraen guide them through the depths of their inner woods, Gwyn and Rowen take note of the fine jerinian clothing and armor each wears ahead of them.

Elraen wears a short blue cape and pants with light silver straps crisscrossing around his legs. He wears brown high boots made of thin leather and matches his tunic that is covered by a dark silver metal over his shoulders, rounding over them to drop to his shoulder blades and the surrounding area. Elraen’s chest is also protected by this silver metal and has eight strips of wide pieces of flexible metal hanging down to connect at his waist. For a plain rounded helm, it is the most unusual piece Elraen wears as the dark silver weaves about in random patterns outlined in blue. Ashort sword and dagger are strapped on either side of his waist, both made of the same unusual dark metal.

Cyressa’s dark silver hair is held in light silver ornaments matching the color of her eyes. This contains her hair from cascading all over the full quiver on her back. Jerinian armor is molded perfectly to her arms, clamped together from underneath, covering her left arm completely. Her forearm and the back of her right arm is covered in armor that continues over her two fingers, which helps protect them from the strenuous use of her bow. Full light weight armor fits around her waist expertly forming up above her breasts, accentuating Cyressa’s shapely body. Extending below her waist are metal straps tapering down to hang between her legs, stopping just short of her knees. Cyressa’s legs are bare save for three metal bracelets spanning three inches a piece, lining each leg. Black studded jerinian high boots match the outlining of the intricately detailed carvings consuming her armor, much like all jerinian armor.

Both Gwyn and Rowen are surprised to see these two jerinian to be only five foot five and five foot one. They know Elaria was short, but thought she was simply shorter than the rest. Cirien elves to the south are around six foot or better and are much different in appearance and attitude. These jerinian’s ears are more rounded like humans and aren’t as large as these southern elves, and their skin and eyes are completely different just as Elraen had mentioned. With the base structure of human faces, they can be over shadowed by their faerie features. Their attitudes seem more friendly, but I’m sure under negative circumstances the jerinian’s would be at least equally as vicious without the arrogance of the cir-ien.

Over an hour of walking and many conversations later, the group passes through the woods and everything is ordinary as usual until right before their eyes they find themselves standing in the jerinian city of Celentria Aria.

Amazed by the sudden change, Gwyn and Rowen stare in awe at the giant trees with trunks the size of cottages stretching to the sky. The trees seem magical, with their smooth gray bark these jerinians can blend into them perfectly and the vibrant green leaves spread out into the upper levels of the trees.

Doors appear on each level on the tree’s trunk spanning a hundred feet up in the two hundred foot tall trees. Some lead to elaborate portches with blue and purple flowered vines draping them. Cyressa describes her society to the extent she is able, as most of their way of life is secret even to these comrades who dwel outside their city.

Each tree and jerinian home is equal in beauty and proportion as all jerinian’s here are equal. Even the high one Aldrin shares the same servings of supplies as anyone, and his home is no larger or elaborate then mine. Cyressa describes. As you can see, our city is designed in a circle with a large stream running around each ringed section. Bridges carved of a light brown stone are positioned here and there over the crystal clear water. Closer to the center of town the streams cease, and solid ground rests under our temple which is where we pray, celebrate, and discuss any serious situations from agriculture to war. Plus our library resides within those walls, Cyressa points as she speaks, showing Gwyn and Rowen the bright silvery stoned building whose stones look and feel like glass, so smooth and glossy are their surfaces. The circular building has five levels. Each level has an enormous overhang with pillars supporting it all around the structure, getting smaller with each level. Every level has its unique artistic decor resting under the cover of the colossal trees.

They see crystal clear water falls from the peak of the structure spill into the top level, which flows down to the next and so on to finally splash into the inner circular stream that is the lifeline of all the other streams running along the jerin-ian homes. The serene beauty of their homeland strikes the hearts of the outsiders who follow their guides up to the third level where Aldrin usually is. Here more

t han before they are noticed and receive many emotionless looks, and are even stopped by a few to be questioned as to their intentions.

Don’t be bothered by our people. They aren’t used to visitors and are uncomfortable by your appearance here. Our kind is real distant to outsiders until we grow to know you personally. Even though this is a rare thing, once we merge in friendship, our loyalty and trust are genuine and permanent, Elraen tells them.

Around the outer walls they walk up steps to reach the third floor through an archway and around the auditorium to wait outside a set of closed doors while Cyressa retrieves Aldrin.

Happy to finally be at the end of their task, Rowen and Gwyn stand uncomfortably, waiting for Cyressa’s return. They catch untrusting eyes coming and going from their waiting area.

Ever since arriving in this town I truly feel like a trespasser, Rowen says, I have been on guard wondering if we will be attacked.

I am sorry Rowen, Elraen apologizes, and to an agreeing Gwyn. It takes time before you feel welcomed here. And you will not be harmed unless given a reason to be.

Doors open as Cyressa holds one side open and a familiar smiling face holding the other door. Elaria stands waiting for her father, Aldrin Merillian, who walks through the opened doors. His silk robes flow loosely, melting around his body regally. Aldrin’s almost white robe shines of silver with blue runes running along the outside seams. All who know of him have been told that this jerinian is extremely adept at high level magics and has practiced with the powerhouse, Darien himself.

Unsure how to address this jerinian correctly, nervousness sets in, and the two vegas begin to feel uncomfortable. To their rescue is the gorgeous Elaria. Sensing ensuing anxiety, she approaches the two travelers, her purple eyes gazing upon them with wisdom and masterful competence.

I assume you would like to sit down and rest while you and my father conduct business. In the meantime I will see to it that you are presented with a meal and lodging, that is if you would like, Elaria asks with kindness.

Thank you, but that won’t be necessary Elaria, we will be on our way after our business is done here. We have been away from home for so long that all we want to do is rest tonight in the sanctity of theYelanian Forest, Gwyn replies.

I understand. Then I won’t keep you waiting. Follow me and my father to his quarters, Elaria says as she gestures for them to walk through the double doors and down the corridor where Rowen and Gwyn pause to look back to Cyressa and Elraen, and thank them for escorting them.

When they reach the end of the corridor, passing numerous doors on their way, Elaria holds the door for them and says that she will return with Cyressa and Elraen to show them safely to the jerinian border where they first encountered one another. There they will know their way home and Cyressa and Elraen can resume border sentry.

As the arched wooden door