Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Averin shut his eyes tight as he heard the ominous approach of foot falls in the next hall, the thought of the torment he had faced being repeated filled him with deep rooted dread. He laid there bound to a cross shaped table in a small room that one could pace in a few moments. Around the room upon tables and upon the walls hung tools and devices of torture. As the steps got closer to door, Averin began to struggle with his bonds and blood began to flow freely from his wrists and ankles, making the floor around the table slick with his blood. His struggle became more frantic as the person got closer and closer, until one final step rang in the air… then silence, which the shifting of objects in the next hall broke. His body weary from struggling and the numerous cuts and abrasions that covered his tormented body, he fell away into an unconscious slumber. In strode a curious looking boy, he was shocked to see the body of a blonde haired boy and bound on the table, surrounded with tools of torment. The elf strode over to the tables and began to peruse the scattered tools and herbs around on a near table, and a faint glint caught his eye and he picked up a long, thin knife. He walked over to the seemingly lifeless body of the boy, Averin, and prodded the left palm, a droplet of blood was produced and sparked Averin's conscience and he woke with a start as the pain shoot up his arm. His conscience state wasn't noticed so Averin cautiously glanced up at the looming face of the other boy, but it was not his captor. The boy’s golden eyes caught the light and glimmered as he slowly looked down from the knife at Averin and noticed he was conscious; they stared into each others eyes and in the elf's golden eyes Averin became suddenly aware of his nakedness and again he began to struggle with his bonds only to deepen the cuts on his wrist.
The boy reached out for Averin's chest with a gloved hand and he paused looking deep into his eyes noting the fear the roared behind the mask contrived to hide it away. Averin's lip began to quiver and soon his body was given to a fit of trembling from his fear, his eyes widened as he was struck with the realization, This must be that elf that had been destroying the foundations of the elven clans, starting with his own clan. Tirphog, the name that struck fear through Daearu, and yet his face and his eyes seem too kind to be that of a cold blooded killer. He laid his hand on Averin's chest and he muttered, “Bod am dangnefedd ac iacháu,” his eyes caught the dim light of the room and glowed like burnished gold. From where his hand rested Averin felt as though a wave of ice wash over his body, every time it crossed a wound on his chest it stung so much it caused him to take gulps of air, he cried out from the pain, and the wounds on his chest slowly faded leaving smooth scars and dried blood in their place.
Ugh…Is this really the elf, who has slain his clan and left all traces of compassion by the wayside. Did he just heal me? It surely cannot be… Averin thought to himself.
“Wh… Why do… you 'elp meh?” Averin sighed weakly. “Did 'e put you up tah…”
He trailed off as they both heard a new set of foot falls approaching in the next hall. The elf's hand shot to a long dirk, which hung from the back his belt, he slowly approached the door. Averin rolled his head to see the new comer, least it truly be his tormentor. And with a soft booted step in strode another elf, the two elves grasped arms in a quick greeting, they talked quickly and then his head swiveled toward Averin. His stride engulfed the gap between them, his hand dove into a fold of his cloak and he produced a knife and began slowly cutting Averin's bonds.
“I know not who 'he' is, I only assume that it is your captor, but we mean you no harm. My friend here had a vision of you, about a month passed and we have come to free you. Fear not, he is my dear friend and bard,” the new comer told Averin. At that both elves set about removing the remaining bonds that held Averin to the table. Then as soon as his hands were free the golden-eyed elf took a hold of his wrists and again muttered, “iacháu.” With the same sharp stings the wounds on his wrists disappeared.
“Connor conserve what is left of your strength we may still need it, we haven't escaped yet.” The other elf told the golden-eyed elf. Connor leaned against the wall, breathing slowly and wearily shifting his weight.
As they prepared to help Averin to the floor, a man with flaming red hair strode through the door about to say something, when we all heard the sharp report of rock hitting rock, “Bloody hell... Eärenor, if we could hurry I hate to rush you but I think we don't want to be here much longer. It appears that Curn is getting close so we don't want to get caught when he gets back! Let's get a move on…” he said with a tinge of sarcasm.
Averin realized he lacked the strength to stand as he began to be slide off the table. Again fear and dread began to take over his conscience. His knees buckled as his feet struck the cold, stone floor and he pitched forward groping for the cloak of the elf called Eärenor and hit the floor. Eärenor dropped to a knee to help Averin up. With Averin's arm over his shoulder Eärenor stood and began to shift his knapsack around.
“Camang, toss me that wine skin and a bunch of that dried Yn Chwerw,” he called to the man. “Here chew this and rinse it down with this; it will dull some of the pain you still feel. Camang take my bow and quiver; I'll carry you my lad.” At that he gathered Averin up in his arms and followed the other two out of the halls that they had all previously entered through.
They quickly traveled through the three halls that proceeded Averin's to the front entrance. Upon arriving they found the once tranquil entrance in utter chaos the many piles of rocks and boulders where now animated and fighting and throwing rocks at each other. For an instant dread began to sink into their hearts. When they thought of the table and being tortured; then Averin spoke up, “There…'s a side passage down by my hall. Hurry!” Fear and anxiety made his voice shake.
“Well we have no better options. Let's give it try. It would be better than sitting and waiting for him to return,” Camang said as he took off back through the halls, with the rest of them in tow.
They passed back through the rooms preceding Averin's, one was a large room with a library like feel to it, save instead of being filled with just books they held, jars and cases with limbs or parts of animals laying around to be used for sorcerous purposes. The variety of the preceding room made the second appear normal, it held a beautiful set of wings one of which had seemed to have lost many of it's feathers and both were missing the pinion feathers. They finally reached Averin’s hall, he shuddered as they passed through, where his memories haunted like shadows looming for his destruction; the memories were yet too fresh for him to deal with. They pressed on down a hall with Connor and Camang opening every door and seeking the mentioned exit. When they passed down a hall into a fourth room that looked much like Averin's but instead of and empty table there lay a beautiful winged Horusin women bound in stocks, only holding her feet, and left for later thought.
She gazed at Averin through teary eyes, and then her gaze shifted to Eärenor and in a horse voice she sighed, “I knew you would come. Pl…” she coughed violently, some blood splattered on the table as her frame racked with her cough, “Please… take care of my son, Averin. A… Averin go with them… humph… stay with them for now you can not return they will not accept you back. I'm s… sorry, I couldn't protect you from this… I've failed you as a Mother. Ple… huh… Please forgive me… I wish I had been stronger for your sake, to wipe away all of your tears,” Averin began to lose himself to the emotions that flooded him and as hot tears streamed down his face she uttered, “Blentyn chan y ellyllon ddwyn e ymaith chan 'ma ac athrawiaethwch e goroesi. Ef eto ieuainc ac o hyd ym angen ardwy.” As she said this she reached out and took Averin's hand and placed it in Eärenor's and nodded approvingly to the both of them and she laid back still holding their hand's and then her grip went slack, as she sighed one last long horse rasp.
“Camang, take her. She deserves a proper burial. Hurry let us leave this forsaken place,” Eärenor ordered in a broken voice.
Averin could no longer try and hold back his tears and they continued to run down his face cutting paths through the dried blood and grim. Camang quickly shifted his load to better allow him to carry the her lifeless body and we continued down another hall and towards the end of the hall, Connor found the door that lead us out of the villa and into Ataritaur, how free the air was and the green glow in the late afternoon sunlight. As a party they traveled away from the villa a break neck speed and switched back and forth and looping, hoping to lose their trail to any pursuit. The trial was increasingly complex and they continued on through the afternoon to place as much distance between the villa and themselves. Finally near dusk, Connor who was leading slowed to a stop in a small clearing by a brook. Eärenor and Averin came up shortly behind him, with Camang, the man just behind. Eärenor gently set Averin down leaning up against a tree and he gathered an assortment of extra clothes that they all had in their packs. As Averin got dressed Connor stood in the middle of the clearing where he fashioned a low pit, where he promptly began a fire, while Camang began to heat some water for the meal. Connor crossed over to him and gently laid his hands on Averin's shoulders and whispered, “iacháu,” with the familiar sting the scabs fell away revealing white scars. Eärenor tossed stripes of cured fish, which they had in their provision bag, to everyone and Connor handed out a bowl of some boiled meal.
Connor began to hum a song, which was slow soft to the ear, Eärenor broke in, “Connor, play us a song.” At that Connor produced a harp and began to slowly pluck the strings, and sang a song softly. “And it's Averin… right? How did one so young come to be a toy of Curn?”
“Yes it's Averin… and I'm not that young, I'm only almost a year short of being a man in my village! That is twelve summers… or coming up to my twelfth actually,” Averin replied haughtily and his tear reddened eyes glared at him in a heat of emotion.
“I'm sorry you heart is still raw from your loss. Forgive me for not, giving you time…” An awkward silence followed their exchange. As night fell the woods became alive with the sounds of wild animals hunting and out on the corner of the camp there was loud wrestling in the closest bushes. Then out of the night three wolves sauntered right into camp with their hackles raised and growling at Averin. With a great amount of effort he tried to prop himself up and scramble around away from them, when a hand touched his shoulder.
“Be at ease, my friend, they will not cause you harm. They are friends, of Connor's,” Eärenor told him softly. “Rest at ease, Connor would you take the first watch, and I'll finish the night with the last watch. Averin and Camang you two rest for the night.”
Eärenor sat down next to Averin and began to set up a spot for him self to sleep next to me his sword lying across his knee. Averin leaned on his shoulder as he drifted off to sleep, his eyelids slide shut and he was asleep. Connor who was taking the first watch was stoking the logs in the fire, that night the forest was for the first time in his life a hostile place every branch and noise was a possible threat. It was only a matter of time until the sorcerer caught up to them. Eärenor closed his eyes and slept fitfully, the forest seemed to seethe with an anxiety and hostility to what was taking place. Images of wolves, battles, and Tirphog floated in and out of his fitfully sleep. Connor sat still staring into the fire, the orange embers glowed dimly as images floated there in his sight, first was of a village in dressed for a festival but the people lay there asleep, second, he saw Carnloth's daughter pacing a room with a gentle smile on her face as she would glance out to the starry sky, and the final image was of a city burning and pillaged with bloody bodies strewn across the streets. His eyes closed and with the sound of the course snoring of Camang, in a deep, dreamless sleep droning on it the background.
Connor stood up and crossed over to Eärenor, and roused him to take the watch. Eärenor gently shifted Averin to laying his head on a knapsack, and stretched. He yawned a silent thanks to Connor and crossed the camp again to take a post on a boulder with a large crevasse that creating the perfect seat. The hours of the night dragged on, the first noise that caught Eärenor's ear as unusual came from Averin, who began to twitch, then thrash about in a fit. He jumped off his roost, landing silently beside him and gently shook him. Averin woke with a start, sitting bolt upright, he grabbed Eärenor's cloak and began to softly cry into it.
Eärenor gathered him up and crossed over to the fire where they sat there as minutes passed. Soon Averin's tears stopped falling and he quietly began to relate his dream, “I was so scared… I woke up with a start, in my dream, as my back burned with a heat that… it just hurt me so much. And it just a it had suddenly started it ended. I was scared and rushed into a corner and huddled there and then I looked for you…” tears started to well up in his eyes again. “I saw y…you, you lay there reaching out to me and your bones were broken and you where bleeding. An' also bruised bad. Your hand reached up trembled then with tears in your eyes… your arm went slack…”
“It's ok. It was only a dream… and I will never leave you,” Eärenor promised.
“No really it was more than a dream, I still feel those burns.” He lifted the back of his shirt to reveal black burns, and tender red skin, “But ... then deep voice spoke out of what seemed to be the very stones, 'I will consume you all, death and darkness take you! I will destroy those who stand against my ascension and me.' Then out of the darkness of the floor up rose a monster with large bat wings, rams horns and the body of a satyr, he walked closer slowly and grew larger and larger. He grabbed my by the throat and began to choke me. I frantically began to kick and flail, then manacles like black snakes rose out of the stone and clasped onto my flailing limbs. My body grew heavy and as my sight faded…”
Averin finished relating his fear, sat silent and he slowly fell back to sleep leaning against Eärenor's shoulder. Eärenor found himself reflecting on his loss and pain of the weeks behind him, the last hour of the night passed by slowly and dawn slowly crept over the forest. A morning lark, sung softly in the nearby tree, when a fox broke out of a nearby bush, it streaked through camp and off into the deeper forest. The wolves jumped up their hackles raising on their backs, Connor jumped up whipping out his dirk from beneath his makeshift pillow. His eyes caught the morning light and burned in it, while he quickly glanced around the surrounding forest. Camang sat up muttering about the noise, and Averin started to stand when Connor yelled, “Down!” Two arrows were loosed and were flying toward Averin, when Eärenor knocked one off course and the other caught him in his back shielding Averin from it. He let out a shout of pain and the force of the arrow made him collapse on top of Averin, Connor leapt over the fire and laid a hand on his back and healed him. When out of the bush, where the arrows were loosed, stepped a regal looking centaur of sable coloring, carrying a short thick bow.
“That arrow wasn't meant for you Prince-ling, it was meant for the foal. What business have you in the forest? And what strange company we find you in, young elf Prince-ling; a Man, an exiled bard, and a wingless Horusin.” The centaur spoke proudly.
“Nay, we have just fled from the Sorcerer. And wish to pass to the lands north with out delay,” Eärenor replied cautiously.
“So we have heard that you have stolen from Curn. He has told us you stolen two servants of his… Is this so?” the centaur said, a dozen centaurs appearing behind him.
“No…” Averin cried out, but he was cut short with Connor's firm grip on his shoulder.
“As my friend was saying: No we stole nothing from Curn but rescued those in bondage.”
“So then you do admit to taking there is something you took, turn it over to us and leave the forest.”
“Again we must say no, for we will not sit ideally by as a friend is tortured and dissected for Curn's vile purposes.” Eärenor tolled him stepping between the centaur and Averin, Connor and Camang followed his suit.
“We shall tell Curn of your passing, your intentions and mind you if you return to the forest he will be the first to hear. And he will exact the price of his goods from your flesh… mark my words, Prince-ling.” The centaur said waving his fellows on into the forest. The centaurs dissipated into the hedges and were gone from sight. The morning passed by slowly and quietly as breakfast was assembled and eaten. Camang and Connor stood and began to have a mock fight with each other, back and forth their bought ranged across the camp. Each seeking the upper hand, Connor kicked a branch that Camang stood upon, and Camang stumbled back tripping on a second branch. Connor's blade quickly flicked out to rest on his opponents collar bone. With a laugh Connor helped Camang up from the ground.
Averin stood slowly and announced “I must go and bury my mother… she needs a proper cairn and that will take time to collect stones for it, I will return shortly after night fall.”
“Ah… Averin, I will join you, for I cannot let you go alone and I wish to see your mother buried,” Eärenor said guardedly.
“And I would ask the privilege to help as well,” Connor contributed.
“Let me and Connor go ahead and find a place suitable for her burial. I know of a place on a hill that over looks the ocean,” Camang contributed with a melancholy smile.
“I'll send a wolf to fetch you when we are ready,” Connor told Eärenor.
“Thank you… all of you, ” Averin said, his voice breaking with emotion.
They settled matters with cleaning and packing quickly; the knapsacks were gathered and packed, the water skins filled with fresh water, then Camang picked up Averin's mother's body, and he and Connor went off into the woods and faded from sight, with the wolves in tote. Eärenor wandered around camp looking at small tree's and then hacked one off at the root and sat next to Averin. He quickly produced a knife and began to fashion it into a walking stick. Averin sat in silence listening to the babbling brook and soon found Eärenor pressing the stick and knife into his hand. Grasping the hilt of the knife, Eärenor set to teaching him how to whittle intricate designs into the soft wood. Averin took off on his own and set to working on this staff when he just broke down crying again.
“Averin? Are you well?” Eärenor asked, pausing his work on honing the edge of his sword.
“I'll be fine,” he lied through a trembling smile, and red, tear filled eyes. “I was just remembering my village and my friends and the good times that are now gone and lost to this exile. I'm just so scared, my life has been flipped on me and I don't know what to do. What is there to live for? Why should I carry on, I'm an exile what is there to do?”
“So, is being an exile so bad? For behold you are in the presence of Eärenor ap Thaen, prince of Myrdine, and exiled from my home and my people. My brother was sold for a menial price and I was betrayed for pure spite. And now I am named the cause of my village's destruction and my family's demise,” Eärenor said holding his tone and anger in check. He glanced over to Averin's face and still saw that he had caused pain with his words. “Forgive me, you had no idea and it was rash of me to speak so to you. Forgive my harsh words. It is yet fresh in my mind also…”
“I… I'm so sorry,” Averin said with his eyes brimming with tears. Eärenor put an arm across his shoulder, and let him cry on his shoulder. Trying to comfort him as his mother had done for him when pain and shame would take hold of me, Averin continued to cry on his shoulder. Soon tears would no longer come and he sat silent and still. His eyes were as blue as the sky at a clear hot day, his face was stern and serious when he said, “Eär… Eärenor, I need to ask you something.”
“Umm… sure, go ahead.”
“Eärenor…. W… will you… uh,” Averin said nervously, taking a deep breath, “Will you… I'm so scared… Eärenor will you accept my life; I wish to be your tool. You may use me as you see fit. Arferwch fy megis eich arfau. This I do to fulfill the Gwasanaetha of my family.”
Eärenor sat in silence for a moment, “Averin… I know you mean well… but… I just can't… I'm not worthy of your service. If this is your will then offer this to one of the others… I'm a dead man; I'm on a suicidal mission, a crusade against my family's murderer. Offer it to Camang … or even Connor…” Eärenor said this with a distant look in his eyes.
“I offer it to you… not to them because you have shown me the most kindness and mercy. When I cried you've been there to comfort me, you gave me hope when all was lost. And even now I have a glimmer of hope in the life you would have for me. Why do you refuse me so plainly?” Averin asked with pain in his young voice and his eyes welled up again.
“No, I meant you no pain in this; I just wish it would not have to be like this... Though I am loath to do it… I… I will accept your offer. I do this to maintain your honor,” Eärenor said firmly. At that he removed a silver spiral ring from his right hand grabbing Averin's wrist and placed it upon Averin's middle finger. “Until I can craft a signet ring with a crest, let this serve for now. Take great care for this ring; for it has a brother and that is held by my brother so let this be a sign of our bond.”
As Eärenor finish this a low disgruntled growl came from the forest, and he spun around to find a wolf approaching the camp. There was a moment where nothing moved and something paced between the wolf and Eärenor, Centaurs hunt brother and winged-one. Come, follow! Brothers confuse scent behind. “We ought to go… the centaurs are searching the forest for us, now. We'll take the coast till we are closer to Connor and Camang, she's gonna lead us to them from there.”
Averin tossed Eärenor his knife back, which as quickly as produced it disappeared into a fold of cloth, and they cleared away the remnant of evidence they had stayed there. As the walked out of camp Eärenor handed the walking stick to Averin, “You'll need something, if we are assailed by the centaurs, and something is better than nothing.” Slipping the knife back into his hand with a wink.
The wolf lead them along intricate animal tracks, that opened up to a narrow stripe o grass land along the cliffs to the Chyfnfor, the ocean. They crossed the grass to the wind blasted cliff and meandered along it and stopping frequently to enjoy the carefree wind the tossed their hair back and forth. Eärenor noted the wonder that filled Averin's eyes as he stared out over the crashing waves. This was Averin's first time seeing the endless crashing ocean and hearing the eternal feelings that the ocean captured that gave voice to the poetry that was creation. They sat upon a rock when Eärenor sat bolt straight as though he had been drenched with a bucket of ice, Averin followed his gaze out to the horizon where a black ship sailed. With nothing more he grabbed Averin and they ran down the paths the wolf lead them, they quickly reentered the forest and headed up a slope of a hill, where they found Camang and Connor smoothing out a shallow grave between two enormous roots of an ancient oak.
“Well, was the trail really that hard?” Connor asked curtly.
“Sorry, we went along the cliffs, and it was Averin's first time seeing the ocean,” Eärenor said ruffling Averin's hair. As they started to gather stones for the cairn he pulled Connor aside whispering, “And the centaurs are hunting us, the wolves covered the trails with their tracks and confused our scent but let us hope that gives us time enough to leave.”
Camang slowly lowered Averin's mother into the grave, while the rest of us hunted for white stones to build the cairn over her. With the dirt place over her, they set about building a sturdy mound of white rock over her. The remaining hours of the afternoon were dedicated to this endeavor and they finished shortly before sunset began. Then they began to search for dead dry wood to build a fire for the night, with the cairn built and dry wood for a fire. Connor laid a hand on the white stones and muttered, “Rwyma rhain meini at amddiffyn hon corff gladdedig yma.” Eärenor added his own touches to the site with a carved blessing in the exposed roots, while Camang started a low fire in a small pit that he had dug. As the sun began to set Connor produced a harp and plucked away at its string and he began to sing a kind, melancholy song. When a melody of its own rose from the cairn and a women's voice rang out in the small clearing. There upon the cairn appeared a silvery wisp of Averin's mother singing a benediction out in some language unknown to the tongues of men and elves.
Averin hung his head low and tears poured down his face, when the wisp stood and crossed over to him lightly brushing away his tears saying, “My son, do not weep for us, for we have accepted our deaths. But come we have blessings to give. Son of man, much do I owe you for the service you did for me. And for that I give you this crest of my family's, for you have no crest of your own.” When she directed a hand to Camang, his jerkin shimmered in the low light and changed into a chain mail jerkin with a silk vest with a beautiful crest on it and a signet ring on a non chain mail gauntleted hand. “Sons of elves, what would you have for your services to our family?”
“I would have nothing more than I have received already, Milady.”
“Ah. Humble are we? I give you some knowledge that will serve you, well:
Mortal days in mortal dale
down past the Mir Aheam, through the rain, sea, and hail
where they once hailed a King, as ocean wind gales...

Take my heart ever eastward, in my bosom and in lithe...
haply I think, on the dear and lost, Fin Girith

Ere dawns first light
First seen by eagles flight
Tauriath, fen and woods doth guise
its borders twixt the darkest dreams
blow its face off maps and memory as the winds of Ered Esgal...
chide the sands of Mir Aheam

The travels end that ends ones sorrow
that no dismay may find
round the mountains, round the forest, round they flitter in my mind
Its braver days and immortal lays, captivate its hospice fair
let the road, dark or blue, bear one to its forgotten lair

Wherein sat one in story spun a king I wish his guise descry
his blood so noble and so pure, reflects upon the sky
strength laid in tombs as darkness looms weaved a fell obit:
"High King Calum, you have fallen... what shall yet come of it?"

For laid there in Fin Girith, is what ones soul doth pine
let no specter haunt your way, heed no trident tine.
Heed these words, at their heart you will find what you seek. And what of you, Bliad-yn un, what would you have?”
“Lady there is nothing that I would ask for myself… I would only count your favor as a dearest blessing for my lowly services.”
“Ah, it is well indeed that I leave my son in your care, and for your modesty I will bestow upon you power to aide him whom you have dedicated your life to,” the wisp glided over to him and with her hand she swept aside his shaggy hair and laid her forefinger on his forehead and she muttered 'Arglwydd acha 'n dal bendithia ei ag amlygyn at chymorth ei i mewn eiddo angen,' then a light gleamed from his forehead was a light twisted and formed what would look an elven crown and stayed. His hand lightly touched his forehead, tears glistened in his eyes and he bowed a low regal bow. “My son long have I watched you but now no more. I now bestow upon you the spear of your forefathers, and as my last protection I can leave you with is memories of those who used it. Use it well and fear not for we will always be with you in your heart. Farewell… my son,” she bent down and kissed his forehead as the last ray of light faded from the sky and she melted away with it, a single tear rolled down Averin's cheek. Leaning on his shoulder was the staff he and Eärenor had carved, but now it had the blade of a sword attached its head, like a spear.
They all sat in a stunned silence, at the gifts and in pure awe of the spectacle they had just witnessed. Connor's finger continually ran across his now marked brow, Camang fingered the Horusin signet ring and crest. Eärenor was lost in a deep thought and seemed to brood over the poem of his destination, Averin sat next to him still in silence with a similar look upon his face as he gnawed on his lip to keep from crying.
Camang broke the silence saying, “That is a beautiful weapon, that blade is deadly by craft, and solid in make. What is it called?”
“Its name is Rhisiart…” Averin replied, as he griped the staff and whipped the deadly blade around deftly, it fit. The weapon looked neither out of place nor did he look like he just received the weapon. As night closed in on the camp, the orange light from the low flames from the fire danced on the brooding faces of the company. Suddenly from the forest numerous howls filled the night air, when the full moon broke out from behind the Danimore Mountains. Two wolves came loping into the camp carrying two hares in their mouths, they crossed over to Connor and plopped them at his side and darted back into the forest. Connor and Eärenor skinned the two hares, as Camang began to boil dried roots and vegetables. Soon the meal was slowly simmering on their small fire. The stack of wood was dwindling, and dutifully Averin jumped up, and went off to gather more dead wood.
“Eärenor, Connor and I will take this night's watch, you are weary and need some rest,” Camang said to him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Nay, I can last a while longer, let Connor rest the night, you and I will take the watch.”
“No you NEED rest!” Connor burst out, Camang kicked him in warning. “No, I will not shut up! He needs to hear this, Camang. What are you driving yourself into the ground for; do you think Ganieda can see you? She is leagues away, in her father's house. Your mother and father are gone they will not praise you for driving your self into oblivion.”
“Who do you think you are? I know she cannot see me and that my parents are gone, by what right you have to tell me when I must do anything,” Eärenor's color began to rise.
“I claim right of your duty to Averin, and your promise to never leave him! And as a blood brother, I do claim that right! If you will not listen to reason then off with you, die in what way you deem best!” Connor spat at Eärenor's feet. There was a silence as these words washed over Eärenor reminding him of his error.
“I'm sorry brother… I meant no offense. You are right; I will do him no good if I drive myself too hard.”
On his return Averin heard the company's voices dimly, stopped and waited. He s tepping of his hiding place behind a large oak, gathered the wood he collected and crept back into camp with his load. As he came into view of the others, they all sat staring into the fire with out a word to each other. Averin tossed his small load of wood onto the stack and sat down beside Eärenor. They eat their meal in utter silence and the warmth of the stew seeped into them. Connor again brought out his harp and began to pluck a song on its resonating cords. Averin's head began to bob up and down, until he was finally overtaken with sleep lying, next to Eärenor. Eärenor's face seemed to take on a harder look as he stared off into the fire, he hoped the tyren would kindle and show him what tomorrow held for them. Connor walked over to another oak and settled himself in a crook in a branch and was over taken by sleep.
“Eärenor, the watch is taken… now take your rest. Be at peace, my friend…” Camang said softly.
Eärenor thanked him and laid his head against his bag. Sleep was hard coming to him, and it stayed fitfully. He finally achieved to a sleep that was undisturbed, the night remained peaceful through the two watches and the morning came early and everyone seemed less on edge with a night of peace to calm their minds. Eärenor roused Averin with a gentle shake; they broke their fast with cold leftovers of the previous night. They set off that morning with mind to leave behind the centaurs and all the pain the accursed sorcerer. Again they headed out of the grove and made for the cliffs again to head for the city of Fin Carnen, the last open port city on the island.

Prolouge : The Mourning Fog (or the begining of it)

There beneath the canopy of the Ataritaur Forest, the fog crept slowly across the forest floor getting denser every passing moment. The wind carried the whispers of war, the trees wailed at the carnage of wars that had spread across the Clans, and a weary young elf, Eärenor, sat up rubbing his eyes. That night sleep had come to him fitfully and tired as he was he stood and walked over to the edge of the creek, that ran on the side of the camp. With a bowl he had taken from camp he scooped (cleaning his chest wound from Tirphog, makes a fire and fire responds to his emotions.) He began to sense a strange foreboding that had crept upon him. He stood and produced a knife from a fold in his cloak, pacing camp he looked for his companion who seemed to have vanished in the fog. The ground of the camp was littered with the tracks of wolves, and different boots tracks. One of the many crossing tracks was still very fresh, he slow backed himself to the tree where his sword was leaning, his arm dove for the hilt, “Egwyddorion, Rhew!” a shout came from the fog. A single hole formed in the fog as an arrow pierced his shirt and cloak and ice forming holding him in place against the tree.
“The elements of your attack aren’t that foreign to me… Bard. I know you’re in the mist about three trees back. Show yourself… I said show yourself, bard,” the fog parted to reveal a hooded figure whose eyes glowered a burnished gold even at the distance, with three wolves poised to dart, surrounding him. The figure knocked an arrow with deadly speed and drew it back.
“Egwyddorion, Am-drio!” He yelled.
He loosed his arrow, stuck to the tree Eärenor, tried to swing himself across to grab his sword with his unstuck arm. When another arrow drove into his sight, he swung his sword to parry but would have been to late. A wolf dove out of the mist, snatched the arrow out of the air, and trotted off into the mist. The elemental arrow flew over Eärenor’s shoulder and there was a screamed curse as footsteps pounded off into the deeper forest. With out so much as a word from the bard the wolves took off, in different directions, hunting the attackers who were escaping.
The hooded bard strode towards him and with two fingers he pointed at the tree and spoke, “Hufel.” The ice melted away, leaving the arrow which Eärenor promptly snapped and pulled free of the tree. About halving the distance the hooded bard pulled off his hood, showing his young face to him.
“Connor my dear wolf-eyed friend, what brings you out this way? But it is good to see you,” Eärenor bellowed at him.
They strode toward each other and they grasped forearms and giving each other a hearty thumping. “It is good to see you alive, brother,” as Connor said this a grin crept across his face but his eyes held onto a sorrow. “I’m on my way to retrieve the torcs and the crowns. I also go to prepare for your coronation. And to honor those who died in the battle and bury them.”
“Ah… brother you needn't worry your self over that…. I hold in my keeping three of the torcs and the two crowns. But I keep them to give to you before the people and with that my abdication from the throne of our people,” Eärenor sighed with some relief, “I also buried them all with a cairn, there were too many carrion to take the time to bury individually. But your father and my parents went into the royal tombs. May Dofydd rest their souls.”
“So you went back? Even against his will. It isn’t your fault; you didn’t choose your parents to be Guardians. Is it not true that seeing that you feel at fault for this destruction? At least you didn’t have to stand by and watch. Your birth didn’t affect your parents’ choices they did it to safe guard those they loved and served. You give yourself too much credit; you hold no blame in this matter. So what will you do now, where do you go if you will not be king? Eärenor, I’ll now pass on the words my father told me before I left to watch the desolation from the Caves: ‘Don’t try and help what has come to pass, but live for what you can change with your life. Do not live here, were I died; live in the present. The future can change, nothing in life is certain,’” Connor consoled him.
“Th… Thank you, brother. How is Deanor, did he make it with our group of refugees?” Eärenor forced a smile, though his conscience was filled with worthlessness.
“He… edifar… I’m sorry but Deanor… He didn’t make it back and no one can find any trace of him. He disappeared upon reaching the outer guard. A band of orcs came upon them, seizing Estel and a number of other children. Upon their return from taking the rest to the gate, the guard found Estel and two others who all related the graphic story of Deanor’s fight. Though he had saved the three of them, he was not taken alone. He and three others were taken, most likely for Tirphog’s slave trade or personal slaves,” as his explanation went on the color of Eärenor’s face slowly drained way leaving him a pale white. He staggered over to a log and sat down. Silence of the forest was uncanny and expedited Eärenor’s feeling of loss, tears welled up in his eyes.
Through their talk the fog slowly dissipated and the light green glow was restored to the forest. Twigs snapped as Eärenor’s companion returned walking backwards tripping over every branch and root he passed. He came up still looking at the wolves that had pursued him with muzzles bloody. Something passed between Connor and the wolves, and they backed off Camang, plopped down by trees behind Camang and Eärenor. Camang, a tall red headed hot tempered man, turned and surveyed the scene before him, he looked from Eärenor to Connor and asked, “Did I step into something over my head? What’s going on? Eärenor?” His hand flashing to his sword hilt over his shoulder. The hackles of the wolves rose and Connor shot a glance at them and they remained motionlessly, watching Camang.
Eärenor jumped up and placed a hand on his elbow, “Nay friend, my brother, as I told you, lead my group to Sirousvar... save he didn’t make it. He was captured by a band of orcs that placed him into Tirphog’s slave trade. Now Connor will you lead me to the refugees, for now my business must be quick and decisive… there I will renounce my claim to the throne. Let us make haste. I must have quick deeds to catch up with my brother’s captors.”
“It will avail you to no good… They escaped with a ripped portal… I sent the pack to catch their trail when I first found out,” Connor said with tears forming in his own eyes.
“We all have business in the city, so let’s be off and take care of that, then you may decide what course we shall follow…” Camang forced this on the party.
He packed up the remaining pieces of camp and threw Eärenor his bow and pack. Eärenor stood slowly dawning his pack and Connor lead them off down a trail off to the city of Fin Sirousvar. They traveled in silence, until they reached the outer jet black wall of Sirousvar, nigh midday. Camang began to mutter about not having breakfast and about the wolves; Connor and Eärenor remained silent through their entire trek. When out of the green forest, a voice demanded, “Present yourselves! What business do you have in the city?”
“I am Connor ap Borone, my companions are Eärenor ap Thaen, and Camang ap Malgato, we seek the refuge of the city in these troubled times.”
Upon his reply a score of archers stepped out of the brush, with bows drawn pointing at them. The captain of this squad stepped forward and she said, addressing Eärenor, “It is good to see you milord. We sent parties out for you when you hadn’t shown up with the others… Lord Carnloth will be glad to have news of your safe arrival! Come we will escort you to the city.”
The captain lead us on to the gate and along the road, through two more gates and then finally into the city. As they walked, Connor fell back to the end of the procession and was talking to the captain. Camang conversed with many of the troop. Upon reaching the city, Camang took his leave of their company. The captain called Eärenor back to the end of the procession, she told him to meet a vassal of the Carnloth’s at the stairs to the second tier. From there on Connor lead Eärenor through the maze of streets, as they got close to the villa being used to house his kin, Eärenor, noted that the streets were lined with people of every age from his Clan. They all sat ashen face and they would look up into his face and a glimmer of hope sparked behind their steely eyes. As they passed a narrow alley, Eärenor caught a glimpse of a boy running down an alley, behind him and Connor a large procession of the Clan and those of the Lord Carnloth and Connor marched him on through the gauntlet that had formed around his path. All of the people eager for a glimpse of hope, the light in their eyes was crushing him, that he wished death instead of denying them the hope they thought that they saw.
They began to ascend the steps to a villa that was obviously housing many people, when at the top of the stairs stood Estel, Eärenor's half-brother. He was dressed in fine robes and cloths that were usually reserved for the royal seat. Connor and Eärenor walked on up to him, Eärenor felt something not right about his half-brother, he would have sworn he could almost “smell” the fear on him... but icily Estel hugged him and brought the cloak he had been wearing around Eärenor's shoulders.
“It is good to see you alive, my brother,” Estel spoke these words as though they were a curse.
Eärenor continued on towards the court yard of the villa, as he passed Estel, he placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered something into his ear, “Your treachery will not go unpunished...”
Estel’s face drained of its color and he looked as though he would choke. Eärenor continued into the villa and the crowd of people push past Estel. Estel took advantage of the sheer numbers and disappeared into the crowd. Connor lead Eärenor on into a court yard where he stepped up and announced, “Come people of Thaen. Listen to what the son of your belated Lord has to say!”
All activity stopped, even the children stopped their games to listen. The eyes of all the refugees rested upon Eärenor. He reached down into the sack he carried and produce the two torcs of his parents, the gold reflected the sun light in a dazzling array. He then removed his own silver torc from his neck, raising all three of them into the air with aloud voice he announced to the crowd. “With this I lay aside any claim of mine to the throne. Here me, O people of Calakeleb, I, Eärenor, have now a road set before me that will not allow me to serve you as a king. And now I leave the kingship in the hands of the son of my father's bard, who will now serve you in naming your new king.” He handed the torcs to Connor, who had bent to one knee. Eärenor then drew the two crowns of his father and mother, and also raised these into the air announcing, “In honor of my parents, I plead with you all to reconvene the Council of Elders. And maintain our people on through the strife of this age. Do not raise up a king from my fathers line, it is time for a new beginning and a new line to reign over you.”
A stunned silence reigned over the entire courtyard after Eärenor finished his monologue and then strode quickly through the crowd that split open for him and as soon as his foot hit the steps out side he took off running. He rounded a corner and heard a shout and then a wail rose from the Clan and they all wept for the lose of the hope they thought that they had. Eärenor ran down streets turning around in circles and then found his way up through the tiers of the city and wandered up and down the streets. And found himself sitting in the bustling common room at Shepherd's Manse, an inn, over a meager meal that he bought from a gracious, motherly innkeeper.
“You remind me so much of me own son, but isn’t that silly you couldn’t be him...” off she walked making herself overly cheerful and busy.
Eärenor sat there in silence eating his stew and bread, a floor board creaked and there in the seat across from him sat Estel, “So how is it you survived? I mean, the plan was that Tirphog would duel you, kill you and then the capture of Deanor was my part, but no one has survived a duel with Tirphog and yet here you are...” He grimaced across the table at me. The activity at the tables around us died instantly, the noise in the common room was still loud and no one noticed, the eyes of a range of men staring at me. He flashed a smile with pleasure, producing a long curved knife, and thrust it forward like a viper striking at its quarry. Eärenor was faster his hand snapped up and grabbed Estel’s wrist and wrenched the knife out of his grasp. The last thing Eärenor saw in the inn was the snarl and horror mixed on Estel’s face as his own knife stuck his hand to the table to which they were sitting, at that he took off out of the common room of the inn. The
He kept running down the crowded streets pushing his way through the people. After running through a full tier of the city Eärenor stopped to catch his breath at a fountain, leaning down to bring his face closer to the cool water to splash it on his face. He looked up and his eyes meet those of the most beautiful young women, who stood on the other side of the fountain. Their eyes stood still locked in a blissful kiss, when Eärenor broke his eyes away as his face turned pink. The lady bent down and whispered something in the ear of a maid attending her, and they both were taken with a fit of laughter. Blushing even more Eärenor stocked off and found his way to the stairs he was to meet the emissary of Lord Carnloth’s. He was early and sat upon the stairs to wait for the appointed time. As he watched each person pass him by he thought, None of these people know my pain, none of them care... With the sun reaching mid afternoon he pulled up the hood of his cloak to protect his neck from the sun and to shield his eyes from the glaring sun light. In every face he saw some feature of his father or mother.
Tears formed in his eyes as he saw his father’s broken form on the wall float in from his memory. The purple spots and dried blood marring his aged frame and face, bound by chains to the very walls he built and protected. Truly I am lost...I never imagined that my family would have been broken and lost in such a way as this, this thought hit him like a brick wall. The tears just poured down his face and he didn’t wipe them away. He felt a soft tug on his cloak and dismissed it. It was repeated but more determined. Turning he was eye to eye with a little boy who asked him, “Mista, whys you cryin'? I tought dat growed ups never cwry.”
“I cry because I lost my family. I have lost them and now… Now I have to wait a very long time to see them again. That is why I cry, boy.” Eärenor replied to him.
The voice that replied was soft and smooth, “I am sorry to disturb you but I believe you have an appointment with my father. Please, follow me.”
Shocked by the voice, he glanced up into the face of the women from the fountain. He stood quickly and brushed himself off, and followed behind her receding figure. They walked in an awkward silence and as we neared what looked like another tier, Eärenor plucked up the courage and said, “I’m sorry about the fountain had I known...”
“My lord, you aren’t the first to notice my beauty!” she cut him off with a laugh.
She lead him up on more flight of stairs and then into a beautiful garden. We came up to a low hedge maze and a herald announced my presence, the Lord who was meandering through his garden waved us over to him self. “Ah, Elizabeth, thank you; please go have another seat set at the board for our guests, and return to me when the meal is ready. Let us walk among my garden, Eärenor,” Carnloth said. “Now, lets see... dark news I’ve heard about your family, lad. Is all of it true?”
“Yes... most of the rumors are true. My father is dead and my mother with him... My brother is captured and my half brother has betrayed us all...