the fantasy story

The Fantasy Saga

The land of Tulnachfar had long been a peaceful country. For time out of mind had not a weapon been raised or a battle cry been heard. In the midst of this country, which itself lay on the outskirts of the Tulnar Empire, was situated the quiet town of Esgonn, which by all observances was a exemplary community; they had not had a murder in decades, and no more than a rare larceny in over seven years.

Through the darkened streets of Esgonn hastily moved the mysterious figure of a man, yet not so hastily as to draw attention to him. He was a dark figure and well concealed by the nightshade. He held his cloak close about him and took long strides, splashing his worn boots through puddles left by the recent storm. He passed virtually unnoticed through the streets of the disinterested town, and soon came by winding side lanes to his destination: an ill-kept shop, dealing in antiques and jewelry, which had a less than virtuous reputation. He swung open the door and approached the shopkeeper, a man by the name of Frask, whose personal reputation stood no higher than that of his place of business. Frask sat behind his wooden desk counting the day's revenues, which were not by any means prolific.

"Ay," he said in a clearly annoyed manner, "wha' bizness ya got 'ere? T' shop's clowst." He quickly rose and locked his money back into its box, as the stranger had very much the appearance of a vagrant. The stranger approached the counter, his visage obscured by his overhanging hood, but his eyes glinting from the shadow.

"I was told," the stranger began in a low voice which was very effected by a very foreign accent, "that I could obtain from you a blade of Kron steel." Frask looked momentarily distraught, and nervously picked up a glove and turned it about in his hand.

"Oi 'av nought to know o' that," he said, though his demeanor belied his words. "Ya now oi ken 'av moi 'ed rollt fer dealin' in weppums. 'Ts not leygul."

"I was told you would be able to accommodate me."

"Zat sow? Well jes oo bin tellin' ya sech stoories?"

"Pyde." This name drew an expression of surprise from Frask.

"Poid, ya say? Well ven oi zuppose oi ken do sommat fer yas. Wha' ya got fer may, iffen oi ken foind sech a fing?" He looked at the stranger eagerly. The stranger lifted his hood, revealing a way-worn face with long silver hair and a short beard of similar hue. He drew from around his neck a gold chain, on which hung a large amulet in the shape of a many-pointed star, and at its center was set a large multi-faceted ruby of incredible luster. Frask reached out his hand and grasped at the beautiful thing, but the tall stranger pulled it away.

"First the blade," he said with his dark eyes menacingly fixed on the shopkeeper. Frask turned quickly and walked into the back room, which was secured by many strong but rust-bitten old locks. Soon he returned holding a long object wrapped in a dusty, faded cloth. He laid it on the desk and unwrapped it slowly. Beneath was an ancient sword in an equally ancient scabbard. The stranger lifted the sword before Frask had uncovered it completely, and drew it from the decrepit scabbard to examine it. The blade was long and straight, dual edged with a simple hilt of silver, which was heavily tarnished and missing one of its quillions.

"Et's real Kron, oolroit, jes as zay yoozed back in the warrin' toim" assured the shopkeeper, though the stranger was not convinced until he recognized the bladesmith's mark just below the hilt. He felt the weight of it in his hand, then swung it through the air with a hissing sound.

"Ay," exclaimed the alarmed Frask, "wha' aboot moi compensashun?" The stranger looked at the shopkeeper for a moment, then reluctantly handed over the amulet. Frask was most pleased by this transaction, as he had kept this sword secret since he obtained it from the grave of a warrior many years ago for just such an occasion.

With a swift and silent stroke the stranger beheaded the unsuspecting shopkeeper, sending his body to the ground before the door and his head rolling beneath his desk. He wiped the blade on the dead man's tunic and took the amulet from his twitching hand.

"Give my greetings to Pyde" he said, and disappeared into the night.

by Turamarth Mormekel

Not distant from sleepy Esgonn, near the base of the foothills that formed the foundation of the Great Barrier Mountains, a small monastary stood. A huge structure present for several centuries, it meshed well with the surrounding hills, isolated enough from the nearby village to provide privacy for its inhabitants, but not so remote as to disallow any contact whatsoever from the outside world.

The Akroni Monastary's goal was not to provide isolated retreat from the world, but to allow temporary sanctuary from it. The stone structure had been built generations before by the T'ay-askin builders--now nearly legendary, for their kind had died out, or so it had been rumored. Others had said that they had forsaken their god-given talent to build so that they could live a normal lifestyle among the human populace. Nevertheless, the monastary now stood as it always had--rounded-off corners, a tall, wide building of clean white stone hemmed in snugly against the hills by the snaking river Nabonne.

A large courtyard surrounded by a giant stone wall enclosed the front of the structure. Most often, the drawbridge that crossed the swift Nabonne was pulled away to provide greater isolation for the monks. But now, as it was the season of Aflahan--the time of repentence, the bridge had not been retracted from the river. This cold, clear morning, the normally empty and quiet courtyard was inhabited by several scores of penitents, seeking remission for their sins. Kalienna was among them, wearing the plain white robe of one who sought to follow the stages of repentence and be washed clean of her past. She knelt--much as she had every day from dawn to dusk, near a shallow reflecting pool of dark water. In it's mirror-like surface, she studied her taught, care-worn face. The face that had seen many terrible things of late-- A quick hand put to the surface of the water to disturb the reflection brought her queasy nerves some small ease. With a long sigh, she wished that the monks would find her ready for the next stage of the process. Already, she had been here over a week and had not spoken a word--as the penitents of the first level of repentence--a'khali--were required: a vow of silence until such time as it was judged by the monks that one was ready to move up to the next level of repentance.

Still, her stay here had not begun to bring her the peace she had desperately longed for. At night, her dreams were still disturbed by the nightmares--Gillane's pale face, motionless in death, glassy eyes staring blankly at nothing. Shay'na's cruelly murdered corpse carelessly strewn in a pool of her own blood--her throat having been slit while she slept. And those bizarre bite marks in Khorven's torso and arms--

She shuddered again at the thought of it, feeling the same nausea rise inside her again... She could not allow herself to reflect on it anymore. She could not allow those memories to haunt her waking hours as they had during every night's journey through sleep. Still, as always, she questioned deeply her escape from those horrors--why had she been permitted to live when all of her comrades had fallen, one by one, to unspeakably horrible deaths? And she--the sole survivor--left to live in misery of guilt--guilt that she had survived and breathed still, while they had lost their lives.

Reaching a thin hand up to quickly brush away a tear from her pale cheek, Kalienna vowed again for the hundredth time not to dwell on that. Still, she could let herself admit some small disappointment for not having been alleviated of some of this burden during this past se'ennight as a resident at the monastary. Perhaps when she passed to the next stage of penitence, and was allowed entrance to the Temple...

Startled in the midst of these troubled thoughts, Kalienna caught the reflection of a man at her side, looking up abruptly to study his wisened face. He wore the black robes of a Sage Priest. Had her time come to pass to the next phase? Had he come to tell her that? Stifling the urge to ask him, Kalienna merely stared as the man lowered a large hand and rested it on her forehead where her stringy auburn hair stuck to the cold sweat she had worked up even on this cool morning. His dark eyes seemed to pierce hers and he only whispered, "Great and numerous have been your trials. And they are not over yet."

Kalienna's answer was only a muffled sob as the man backed away from her, still holding her gaze. Turning, he moved quickly away to another part of the courtyard. In disbelief, she wondered if she could escape her past anywhere--if she couldn't do so here within these walls. The other penitents in the courtyard were looking at her now, surreptiously under the guise of studying in their own reflecting pools and it was only then that she realized she was drawing attention with the sound of her strangled weeping.

by Brenda Parrish (rodernoble)

Hagan looked up from polishing the bar as five men entered the inn and paused just inside the door. He was surprised to see the uniforms of Imperial soldiers. The mining town of Okun had a rightly deserved reputation of being unfriendly to Imperials, and the power of the Tulner Empire was tenuous at best this far from the Central Provinces.

The soldier at the front of the group, a lieutenant by the braid at his shoulder, cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that carried easily across the now silent room.

"We are looking for a man suspected of murder," he said, casting his eyes from one shadow enshrouded corner to another.

"He is very distinctive in appearance, having silver hair and a beard of like color. There is a reward of fifty gold for his capture." As the lieutenant finished his eyes were resting on the barkeep.

Hagan gave him a considering look in return. He did not like to become involved in Imperial matters, even one so simple as capturing a murderer, but fifty gold was a lot of money. With a barely perceptible jerk of his head, he indicated a dark corner on the other side of the room.

The lieutenant's eyes widened momentarily, but he merely nodded and tuned to his men. With a few whispered commands they spread out and advanced slowly on the corner that Hagan had indicated. Those patrons nearest the door quickly got up and made their way out of it, wanting no part of the impending confrontation.

"You there," said the lieutenant when his men had the corner surrounded at a distance of about ten feet. "You'll have to come with us for questioning." His put his hand on the hilt of his sword, lending the threat of violence to his words. Though he could see nor more of the man in the corner then a dim outline, Hagan waited nervously for a reply. Fifty gold or no, he had little desire for fighting or killing in his bar. He was not the only nervous one if the shiftings and stirrings of the soldiers were any indication.

Suddenly one of the soldiers stumbled backwards, clutching at the length of steel that had blossomed from his throat. Th unmoving form of the silver-haired man was now a blur of motion as he leapt over the table in front of him, a blade in each hand.

The three remaining soldiers charged him but were met by a whirlwind of steel. One went down almost instantly with a slash across the face, and another a moment later with the man's dagger in his stomach. The third soldier swung at the silver-haired man wildly as he pulled his dagger free, but the man parried it easily with his sword and plunged the dagger into the soldier's belly.

Not bothering to retrieve his dagger this time, the man turned to face the lieutenant, who had his sword held in both hands and was slowly backing away. "If you run, I will kill you from behind," said the silver-haired man with an odd accent Hagan had never heard before. "At least die honorably."

With a visible act of will, the lieutenant stopped retreating and brought his sword up. "You know you cannot kill Imperial soldiers and live," he said in a quavering voice.

"What are Imperial soldiers to one who has killed emperors?" replied the man in a contemptuous voice.

With that he advanced on the lieutenant and swung directly for his head. The lieutenant managed to block the first attack, but the next one came barely a second later and another after that. After a minute of desperate parrying and dodging, the lieutenant found himself backed up against a wall, unable to retreat any further. With a quick swing the silver-haired man knocked the soldier's sword to the side and thrust for his heart. Hagan watched in amazement as the sword passed easily through the lieutenant's chain mail armor as if it were made of cloth. The silver-haired man pulled his sword free and wiped it clean on the dead lieutenant's tunic. Hagan could only watch in trembling fear from the bar as the man retrieved his two daggers and his pack and then approached him. Those patrons who had not managed to escape during the fighting now cowered down in their seats and tried to escape notice as the man passed them.

"You," said the man in his strange accent, stopping just in front of Hagan. "You told them I was here." Hagan did not even try to deny it, just stared at the man and waited to die. The man's dagger whipped up, blindingly fast. Pain exploded in Hagan's head and he stumbled backwards, hands clasped to the side of his head. He was still alive, but his left ear was gone.

"I would take your tongue as well, but I need you to deliver a message," said the silver-haired man. "There will be more of these soldiers here, come to find their missing brethren. Tell them that those who hunt me die. And tell them to tell their masters that the Time of Ending has come." Brian Issleb a.k.a.(Buck545)

Anion picked up a bit of earth between his fingers. The winds had changed. Something was deffinately amiss. The dark mage frowned. The wind blew his hair out of place and pulled his cloak out with it. His horse backed underneath him, trying to get away from the fierce wind, but it enveloped them both, trapping them in that position. Anion smiled to himself.

"They will come," he said aloud. "All of the warriors of darkness will come to me and I'll be their master. I will win this battle and I will forever rule this world. Forever and ever. My horse, you will be the only one to come close to me again. How very very odd. The only animal that will ever be with a dark mage again, will be his filthy animal. Well the rest of my minions will come, merely for the reason that they have no where else to go, and they will serve me, and the entire world will pay for what they've done to me."

He reached up to his face. Half of it was deformed grotesquiley by magic that had taken so much control over him long ago. "They will pay." He kicked his hard heels into the horse, hurting the animal but also making him go forward. "Come horse, we must teach them the price for their pride." The mage rode into darkness, his wicked plan already forming in his demented mind.

Sara Beth Timmer (Nova Danae Starlett)

A few weeks later imperials, again, disturbed Okun as it had just recovered from the terrifying happenings. Though they might not have been the ones to bring disaster over Okun the last time, they did bring the disaster with them in the eyes of the people. In the "One eared inn" Hagan had tried to do his best to continue his business and to forget the incident, which led to the new name of the inn. Having had a hard time in the first week after the fight, bringing in customers, he was glad to say that his regulars were back again. The new name actually helped atracting curious travellers to step inside...

Whistling a merry tune he was cleaning the bar again and serving his drinks as he always did when the door swung open and Tulner soldiers once more entered his inn. Trying to act inconspicuous, Hagan couldn't help stopping to whistle nor could the crowd keep themselves from moving restlessly on there chairs as they fell silent.

So in a silent inn it was that the captain of the company strode forward through the room. His badges and medallions shone from time to time when a beam of sunlight made it trough the cracked wood of the walls and the dust in the room...

"Ale for us all and have one yourself!" he commanded the way only captains can and with a muttered "yes sir" and a feeling of relieve "One eared Hagan" quickly fetched the requested pots of ale for the company.

It was later in the evening and the sounds that came out of the inn in Okun sounded as they would from every cozy inn. The soldiers had blended in after a few hours of drinking ale. The normal folks finally had figured out that this company wasn't here to bother them, but to have a good time just like the rest of them. But they couldn't hear what the captain asked the bartender on a unexpected moment. It was the moment Hagan had feared for...

"My good man. Clearly I can see why they call you "One eared" Hagan," and the captain took a sip of his ale before he went on, "but what grand story is there to tell about how you became "One eared" Hagan?"Emanuel Bouman (Emagica)