About 'The soul of Charoden'

When an ancient clan falls just for the shake of never abandoning her symbols. When all that is left from its nearly supernatural strength are two young adults with a different agenda. When the forest of Leith'latih burns and even the gods weep. Then the dragons know that something is about to reveal itself… but nobody listens to such beings that are only used in war…

A fantasy, adventure web-novel

Monday 13 October 2008

Chapter IV part 2:

Lugar was grinning impatiently. It has taken him over fifteen years but here he was. He looked over to his men. Sixty men, armed with torches and oil, ready to obey his commands. If what the ancient book that he held at his right hand was right, then he would skyrocket his clan in position through the riches that awaited him. If not, well, the citizens of the nearby villages wouldn’t have to be afraid of this cursed forest anymore.

He looked at the massive forest in front of him. Someone only needed to walk five minutes in it, and he would be denied the view of the sky. If you dared, and managed through the heavy foliage, to go even deeper, it would most certainly mean that you got lost.
He looked at the book again. The passage was clear enough, but what surrounded the passage was a tangled mess, much like this forest itself. But he was sure, after so many years, he had found the place that this insurmountable treasure, that the book spoke so cryptically about, was here.

Three times he had ventured deep into the forest in order to find this palace. Three times he had found his way out only through seer luck. Even the Dragonriders that he had put to search the forest from above had failed. There was no way for their sight to penetrate the thick blanket that the trees offered to the forest. And that was on the outskirts of the forest, because for some reason, probably because of a magical defense of the palace, the dragons refused to fly towards the center of the forest.

Well, today was the day. Negotiations had worked out. The propaganda about the clearing of the forest had already brainwashed the villages that were scattered around. This time, he would not get lost in the forest for he would burn his way towards his goal…

Lugar raised his hand and gave the signal. As his crew started to throw their oil around, he looked towards the moon. Many would say that burning the forest in night would be reckless, but he didn’t care; he had waited so long for this…

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.

Duke Melvin was furious. This was something he hadn’t been prepared for. He crashed the report papers in his palm and through them violently towards the ragged sorcerer. He looked at the tattered clothes of the mage, the scorched marks on them evident. Yet, this man was one of his elite mages, a force to be reckoned.
When they woke him up, in the middle of the night, he thought that at last Charoden has fallen. But this… this was something he couldn’t believe. Over three hundred thousand men lay dead, over three hundred dragons, over a hundred mages…

He looked at the map that lay open in the table. Lermaine. A collection of over fifty lesser clans had formed the most massive force that had ever walked this place. What started as a loose alliance, over a hundred years ago, now formed a unanimous assembly of soldiers. An over five hundred thousands soldier military, without the mercenaries, a force that was practically undefeated, was now crushed from a single clan…

“Curse their blood” he shouted.

He was prepared to suffer heavy casualties against Charoden, even a hundred thousand. But he wasn’t prepared about the damned dragons.

“How dare they let that menace against us?” He screamed to one of the few survivors of the massacre. The sorcerer that was lucky enough to be near the border of the anti-teleportation field couldn’t answer.

Melvin looked again at the map. He had waged war against four clans, all so that he could eventually reach Charoden. And when he finally had that blasted blade so near his grasp, he was defeated.

He walked back, inside his room. Tears were staining his face. He was in no way capable of dealing with the other three oppressed clans. They would rebel and he would be unable to fully quench their rebellions. Even the small clans that were now assembled as Lermaine may start falling apart, each one remembering its individuality. There was no way to stop the crumbling of his empire. Yet all those thoughts faded as he looked at the small bed that was near his.

Melvin couldn’t care if the empire that was entrusted to him fell; he couldn’t bring himself to pity the thousands of people that lay dead by now. The report said that nothing was found on the council room, nothing on the mage’s tower either. Only one thing mattered now. He needed to find that sword.

As he lowered his head towards his son’s ear he whispered. “Don’t worry my little angel, I shall find it, I swear to you that you will be healed. Even if everything falls apart, I swear to you that I shall use the blade’s powers onto you”.

Now there was only one thing to do. He had to ensure that his empire wouldn’t vanish till he found the sword. And there was only one way to do it. “Regardless the cost…” he whispered once more, but this time he was telling this to himself.

When he walked out of his room, he was another man. “Go ready the rest of the mages and the Dragonriders. We will start the bonding procedure right now.” He told to the rugged mage. He saw the man’s eyes. They were astonished. He was begging him not to do this. A mixture of fear and horror was leaking though the mages moves. “NOW” Melvin shouted.

As the messenger departed, Melvin looked at the report he had received yesterday. What was just intriguing last night would be now his only clue about the whereabouts of the sword.

Yesterday’s report was another mystery on its own. A Dragonrider had reported that he had seen two people running away. When he tried to kill them, the ground opened beneath them and swallowed them. Not only that, but he swore that he could have burned them regardless that but the dragon, at the last moment, raised his head and spew out his fire towards the sky.

It was this last bit that held most of Melvin’s attention. A dragon denying incinerating its target could be due to the sword. He looked at the crude portrait of the girl, and he smiled…

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~..~.~.~.~.

Liriel was flailing wildly in her sleep. Her dreams wouldn’t let her go. Currently she was seeing the slender staff of the elder standing alone next to the flag. Suddenly the staff burst out in flames.

The intense heat carried over to her and she saw that there was a faint inscription on the length of it. Before she could read it, the staff and the flag incinerated to ashes. She was feeling despair now and agony. But for some reason she was also feeling satisfaction.

Liriel woke up with tears in her eyes. She knew that Charoden was no more…

Her head turned instantly towards Jacob. His screaming came crushing on her ears. As he jumped up she saw that a huge scar was being slashed across his back, as if an invisible blade was attacking him.

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