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Sunday, 16 June 2013

The Chronicle Of Eboracum...

Part One – The Meeting

By anyone’s estimation their meeting that day had more to do with fate than the haphazardness of chance. True, he was not aware that the runes had been cast, the portents read, or that a messenger had been sent from the kingdom of Eboracum. Yet even half way across the world the Nomad could sense that something was changing.

News of Aefon the Conqueror’s death had spread quickly, even in the East. The mighty tyrant who had forged his own empire through the domination and enslavement of the western kingdoms was gone. The world had been tumult. The eastern realms had resettled now that the threat of imminent subjugation from across the Great Sea was ended. For the western kingdoms, however, there still remained a single shaft of hope that a new age might emerge from the shadows of oppression.

The Nomad knew nothing of these hopes as he travelled through the vibrant green lushness of the Many-Eyed-Forest. Moisture seeped and clung limply to every leaf and stem. As he wrestled through the dense, close-knit foliage the tiny droplets trembled and spilt. They dashed down his neck, across the scarred planes of his forearms and onto the glistening flanks of his mount.

“Not long now my sweet.” He crooned soothingly to the exhausted mare. They had been moving through the suffocating forest without pause for hours. The cloying, unrelenting heat was beginning to take a toll on both man and horse. He felt as if he were running a fever. His tunic stuck to his rough skin, patches of sweat darkening the already bloodied and soiled garment. Head pounding, vision blurred and throat parched, he did not attempt to slow their pace. Stopping was more dangerous than continuing in the Many-Eyed-Forest. The heat might drive a man to madness, but the eyes of the forest were those of the deadly hybrid creatures lying hidden and disguised amongst the upright trees and weaving vines.

He had already dealt with a pard. The creature had the stealth and nimbleness of a leopard, twinned with the savagery and strength of a lion. Its claws had opened the skin of his back and every lilting drop of humid moisture was like the touch of a flame against his wounds. He had injured the creature only enough to slow its lethal pursuit. The Nomad hoped it would give them enough time to reach the limit of the forest. Directly to the west lay the Riverlands, which were as cool and cleansing as the forest was stifling and deadly.

There came through the forest a sudden thundering and terrible shrieking. The pard was steadily catching them up. Its confidence in capturing its prey was such that it no longer made any attempt at secrecy. Its victorious cries alerted other predators to stay away from its pursuit. It effectively silenced the shrill chattering of the birds overhead until all that was left was the sound of hooves striking the ground and the mad thumping of the Nomad’s heart.

A gentle breeze caressed him and the hairs on his arms rippled with awareness. The thick canopy above him was gradually thinning allowing rapid and short glimpses of sky. Sensing approaching safety his horse jolted forward with a final burst of speed. Allowing the horse its head he gathered the reins in one hand and sought for his sword with the other. The blade sung as it came free from its sheath. It was thick and broad, twice the length of what a normal man could wield. The muscles in his arms bunched and corded as he raised it in readiness. The drumming in his ears combined with the beasts roars as it sighted its prey. The Nomad tensed, anticipating its agile leap over and above them.

It never came. Horse and rider burst through the forest. Hooves smashed the icy stillness of the river, sending shards of cool water slicing through the air like pieces of a broken mirror. Fording the tributary he drew the horse to an abrupt halt. They remained still apart from their chests which worked like great bellows as they sucked in huge mouthfuls of chill, refreshing air. He could see the pard pacing the boundary of the forest, snarling and sniping at their escape. The sleek ebony animal slowly withdrew back into the Many-Eyed-Forest until all that remained was its gleaming amber stare.

The Nomad fumbled with his sword and reins as he dismounted. His knees crumpled beneath him and he sprawled on the floor laughing. The deep, throaty sound echoed in the cool silence of the rocky valley. Taking a short cut through the Many-Eyed-Forest had not been, perhaps, the wisest of decisions. He had though made it a principle of most his adult life to avoid what was considered to be wise. Crawling forward he dunked his head into the revitalizing water. He came up for air gasping, pushing back the slick mass of his hair. Droplets dribbled down the angular sharpness of his face and across the broadness of his shoulders where his hair hung wildly.

After several moments of serenity he became aware of another sound, a tight thrumming as if the air was moving differently. Looking up he could at first perceive nothing different in his surroundings until he saw the strange light. As the light sparkled more intensely, the thrumming resonated louder until it scraped across his nerves like the claws of the pard. His eyes gradually adjusted to the unnatural brightness and he saw the light shimmer into the shape of a woman.

She walked directly across the river, but her feet made no dip or ripple in the surface of the water. The white blonde of her hair settled over her shoulders like a golden mantle. Her skin was so pale as to be almost transparent, a bluey-violet hue underlying the pure whiteness. The silver of her gown looked like the mail of armour, but the tiny rivets were cast from pure silver thread and not heavy metal.

“This can’t be happening again.” He muttered to himself, rubbing brusquely at the dirt on his britches before standing to attention. “What in Ebor’s name are you doing here?” His voice was scratchy, it had been a long time since he had cause to use that particular tongue. The Guardian of Eboracum glided to a halt before him, her face entirely unchanged from the last time he had seen it.

“I’ve come to bring you home, Prince Benedik.”

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