THE WALK
I
Near the battlefield, on top a high single tower, a man stood and waited for news, good or bad, it depended, but he preferred the bad ones. The wizard turned on the balcony, looked towards the mountains. He entered the brightly lit room, searched for possible source of the strange anomaly. He searched and searched, until he found.
"The battlefield," he rattled, "Albin is still alive, it doesn't matter! My plan will succeed, no matter the cost!"
His hands moved in a strange pattern, made a complex sign. Magic eliminated from of his fingers, a power so powerful that it shook the foundation of his tower.
The tower shook periodically, at even interlopes.
The head minister moved forward, from the shadow.
"What news do you have?" his voice was sarcastic.
"Not good, I'm afraid."
"And they are?"
"Albin still lives."
"Great, you remember what happens t
IA few days passed since the events in the Midwinter Town, the road to Agbata was finally opened.Albinrode his favorite horse, a chestnut. Even that didn't change his mood. He never liked this city; the people were too hospitable. It was unusually for him to be treated that way. In other parts, people feared sorcerers. Here, they were a normal thing.The massive entrance greeted him. The stone walls stood there as far as he could remember. A guardsman was there, wrapped in a fur cloak, snow was falling on his head and neck. He lifted up his head. In his long mustache traces of ice could be seen. The second patrol post was empty, the sorcerer concluded, the second guardsman must be on a break. The guardsman nodded.A young woman passed by, caring a child, the guardsman looked at her backside and firm breasts. He did not notice that the sorcerer was still there, waiting."Look at the cleavage on that,"he said to himself
After Albinsuccessfullyfinished his mission in Chigrin, a rider was sent to deliver the information.The rider rode through the dark night, his horse, a black stallion, was uneasy. There was something foul following them through the dense but dark wood, something sinister. The rider turned, he saw nothing, only a small layer of mist that rose from the moist bushes. There was nothing, but why did he have this strange feeling? There is something wrong with this forest. He wished that he took the right turn when he had the chance a few miles ago; there was no going back now. But he was on a deadline, he need to deliver the message to the queen, as fast as possible. Much depended on that. Only he knew the content, since it was written in an old tong long forgotten by men or elves. And there he was, a brave messenger, scared like a lonely child that fears to go through the dark hallway at night. The feelings were mutual. There was nothing else that he could do but to c
ITwo shadowy figures were walking down a lonely forest path. One of them was heavily armored the other one was lightly armored. The road was empty; they haven't seen anybody on the road; they were walking for hours. Nearly all the roads were deserted on this strange fork. The fork was a typical three part fork. They stopped, looked at each of the roads. They were the same. The figures waited. It was a hard choice; they didn't have the time for a long debate."What now?"the light said. "Where, Hjolt?""Where ever,"the heavy said. "All roads lead the same.""You aren't helping,"the light moved his left leg."You asked,"the heavy replied with a smirk."I did.""And I replied.""You did.""Why must you be a pain in the ass?""I thought you are used to it.""I am.""What's the problem, then?""Nothing…"By their calculation it was two mo
IWhat does a man know about the gods and their actions? Nothing, to be precise, nothing at all. But he still hopes that they will change their mind. Most pray to the Old Gods of the mountains and rivers, while some pray to the New Gods that came across the sea with the Ivarns. They pillaged, looted and raped their way into the history books, as one of the greater threats that the Westerlands faced. They were a small tribe, at first, living on the northern shores of Sevardokin, the largest island in the Lovin archipelago.The wind blew across the grass field. Hjolt looked up to a moon. The visage of the moon changed, the craters became a laughing skull. He thought that he's imaging things. He looked again, on the surface of the moon a laughing skull clearly stood. There was no use debating. The skull became larger and darker. He looked around, there was nothing, the field was gone. There, in front of him, stood a dune. A real dune, he wasn't seeing thi
IThe group of men stood and debated in the large longhouse. The major sat in his high chair, which was decorated with two fierce eagles. "What are we to do?"he asked. He had a brooding face that saw seventy winters, each stronger than the other."We will have a wedding,"Olaf replied. "Who's with me?"The hall cheered."Is the choice unanimously?"the mayor stood up. "I ask again."Everyone raised their hands."The matter is closed. Sing men, let the hall echo."The stood up and started to sing:"Friends and kinsfolk met to deliberate To whom would they marry off their kinswoman this year? Rosy youth They deliberatedTo whom would they marry off their kinswoman this year? We want you to wed the son of a king Who has more gold than poor Roland has land? Wed the son of a king
IRuins of the old hill fort stood on the top of the Hill, the Hill as it was called, was closer to a mountain than to a hill. Long ago, the fort was a place of splendor and envy. Now, everything that's left is a ruin, a home for the Dread King and his servants. The main watchtower was the only thing that remained same. In its prime, the fort hand at least five or six watchtowers. The dense, lush forest, that surrounded the fort, has changed beyond recognition.People, now a day, call it the dark forest. Once a mystical place, now you can only find ghouls and other creatures from nightmares. Even in the daylight hours it was pretty dark in the forest. The trees with their long branches looked like humans with claws.Wizertein, five months… I ride for that wizard, Jarden thought. He was astonished with the passing of time. To him, it looked like it wasn't more than two or three weeks.In the human tong, Waweren is Tuverin-
Thunderbolts lighted the cloudless sky, made strange patterns, which the astonished viewers watched without breath. Never have they seen such splendor and might. The thunderbolts were a strange and mystical sight in these dry, desert parts of the Continent. It was unheard of, let alone witnessed on a cloudless night like this. It was a strange omen of things to come. The viewers watched as the thunderbolts glided across the sky, meeting in the middle and, once more, going their separate serpentine ways. The children were terror-stricken but had enough courage to continue watching. In the meantime, in a distant and hidden place, a child was born. Its fate was already decided. Tonight, the witches will come for it. A woman stood nearby; there must be something that she could do, anything even the smallest thing would change to course."Ashal rar' an el da raet,"the words stop in her throat. T
IThe morning sun shinned bright in the first days of winter, giving a false feeling of warmth. Herbog walked up the creaking, dried oaken steps. He stopped, looked at the guards on the palisade. The guard turned to left, continued down the palisade. Herbog looked up at the sigil of House Aswar, a proud lion danced on the light breeze. He wondered was it a good omen or a bad one, he wasn't very religious, most problems he resolved with the sword, if you could call that large piece of steel a sword. The soldier waited for him to get up, Herbog turned towards the show-covered field; it will be a harsh winter, it always was and will be, ever since the new king came."I don't like it,"the guard said while covering his face with mask that hung lowered to his chest."Neither do I,"Herbog replied.The man turned, "always the same blasted weather.""It could be worse.""True, but still it's blasted.""I know."
IAlbert walked with every possible thought in his mind, good or bad. As he walked the sword was near hand, the legendary sword. It was comforting, that one thought was more than enough to raise his spirit. He was near the opening. Down below the earth, placed in an endless cavern, the Dark One was preparing to be free once again. No one of the blessed had noticed that the world has changed, that everything changed, and that even the darkness around them changed. As always, there are is a group that noticed everything. He wondered in what group he was placed, even before the truth was told he know deep inside that everything has changed and he could fell that but couldn't see it.He waited. The Dark One will soon appear, he didn't know in what form and how much powerful he will be. He will appear.IIThe magical chains around Rolfheim, the first among the gods that created this world until he fell, slowly we
In darkness of his workroom, the emperor sat, thinking what to do next. He had a lot of options to think about. All of them look like the right decision, but on careful analyzes, every decision was wrong. He was at a standstill. Hours passed, he was still at the beginning. To him, they looked like minutes. Minutes, he spent in reviewing. There was always something that he missed.His grandfather was a great strategist and his father before him. Everyone in his family was a great strategist, but no one has a problem that he clashes with. The maps were scattered on a large, massive oak table, maps of all sizes and meanings. The oak table was from his great-grandfather's time. The north is in chaos and the regional lords are fighting against each other, it's more than a good time to attack.King against king, brother upon brother, and the empire was never stronger. In the year since he became emperor, the state has grown dramatically. No one had glorious beginnings, not e
TRAVELING STONEHjolt wandered through the dark corridors that lead to massive crisscrossed system of caves. Who knows how long did he wander? Darkness was everywhere around. He stumbled and tumbled in the darkness, until he didn’t found a brass hinged door. Naturally, he tried for the hinge, but the door didn’t open. He tried again. When he was ready to take a respite, a voice from spoke the following lines:"Once a dark-eyed Argan girlShod my horse.She asked for a small amount of moneyNot highly valuing her work.What’s your name, young lady?And the young lady replies:"You’ll hear my nameIn the clatter of your horse’s hooves."I rode along the street,I galloped the roads,And along the path among brown rocks,And among gray rocks.
I The border with Kirdan, stretched as long as the eye could see, the ground trembled with their gallop. They rode without rest, for days, swift as a wind, for they must deliver a message to Albin. Important news await, which he alone must hear. Their armors were the same; hard to spot the difference between them, the heraldry, which hung on their right shoulder, was the same; a yellow turtle on a green field, the sigil of House Transin. The bull horn-helmed knight stopped for a moment, looked at the worn-down signpost. His dark green eyes looked at the names on the board. He mounted his steed, turned to the other direction and galloped, the others followed in toe. "Kerd is that way,"said the first knight. "True,"replied the bull horn-helmed knight. "Why are we going in the opposite direction?" "Would you go to Kerd?" "No." "Neither would I." "That's the point." "You think that Albin
IThe year is 263 of the Ertail Age, during the tenth anniversary of King Kird's ascension to the throne of Northern Moscodia. Two brothers feuded over the birthright for the throne of Felard, who at the time was the center for the druidic brotherhood and the main trading center for the whole region Uthtira. The older brother tried peacefully to calm down his younger brother, but alas, his efforts were futile. The younger brother was manipulated by his wife Girtanna, who lusted for wealth and power of Felard. There were rumors that she had an affair with the older brother. Who knows is this true or not? Man with higher knowledge say that one of the keys to the treasure chamber of the late King Galbar is hidden somewhere in Ferlard.The older brother moved his hand across the cold marble of the statue; he looked up at the eyes of the Wolf God. He always wondered in recent time, do the all mighty gods ever hear the prayers of ordinary people and nobles.
IThe morning sun shinned bright in the first days of winter, giving a false feeling of warmth. Herbog walked up the creaking, dried oaken steps. He stopped, looked at the guards on the palisade. The guard turned to left, continued down the palisade. Herbog looked up at the sigil of House Aswar, a proud lion danced on the light breeze. He wondered was it a good omen or a bad one, he wasn't very religious, most problems he resolved with the sword, if you could call that large piece of steel a sword. The soldier waited for him to get up, Herbog turned towards the show-covered field; it will be a harsh winter, it always was and will be, ever since the new king came."I don't like it,"the guard said while covering his face with mask that hung lowered to his chest."Neither do I,"Herbog replied.The man turned, "always the same blasted weather.""It could be worse.""True, but still it's blasted.""I know."
Thunderbolts lighted the cloudless sky, made strange patterns, which the astonished viewers watched without breath. Never have they seen such splendor and might. The thunderbolts were a strange and mystical sight in these dry, desert parts of the Continent. It was unheard of, let alone witnessed on a cloudless night like this. It was a strange omen of things to come. The viewers watched as the thunderbolts glided across the sky, meeting in the middle and, once more, going their separate serpentine ways. The children were terror-stricken but had enough courage to continue watching. In the meantime, in a distant and hidden place, a child was born. Its fate was already decided. Tonight, the witches will come for it. A woman stood nearby; there must be something that she could do, anything even the smallest thing would change to course."Ashal rar' an el da raet,"the words stop in her throat. T
IRuins of the old hill fort stood on the top of the Hill, the Hill as it was called, was closer to a mountain than to a hill. Long ago, the fort was a place of splendor and envy. Now, everything that's left is a ruin, a home for the Dread King and his servants. The main watchtower was the only thing that remained same. In its prime, the fort hand at least five or six watchtowers. The dense, lush forest, that surrounded the fort, has changed beyond recognition.People, now a day, call it the dark forest. Once a mystical place, now you can only find ghouls and other creatures from nightmares. Even in the daylight hours it was pretty dark in the forest. The trees with their long branches looked like humans with claws.Wizertein, five months… I ride for that wizard, Jarden thought. He was astonished with the passing of time. To him, it looked like it wasn't more than two or three weeks.In the human tong, Waweren is Tuverin-
IThe group of men stood and debated in the large longhouse. The major sat in his high chair, which was decorated with two fierce eagles. "What are we to do?"he asked. He had a brooding face that saw seventy winters, each stronger than the other."We will have a wedding,"Olaf replied. "Who's with me?"The hall cheered."Is the choice unanimously?"the mayor stood up. "I ask again."Everyone raised their hands."The matter is closed. Sing men, let the hall echo."The stood up and started to sing:"Friends and kinsfolk met to deliberate To whom would they marry off their kinswoman this year? Rosy youth They deliberatedTo whom would they marry off their kinswoman this year? We want you to wed the son of a king Who has more gold than poor Roland has land? Wed the son of a king