T
thestoryteller
Guest
The air was filled with the scents of flowers and fresh grass. It was warm, much warmer than home. The sun beat down heavily, my eyes strained to adjust to this new light, watering slightly with the weariness of the night’s events. It was a lot to take in at such a young age.
A large troll approached me from the tower behind us. He placed his large stony hand upon my head and ruffled my hair; “Little young to be here boy, take this totem, wear it at all times and Grollack will know you are safe”
He hung a talisman round my neck, upon its ornately carved face of onyx was a fist holding a sun, little relevance to me, but obviously it meant a lot to this friendly giant. He stepped back and raised his hands towards me, as they drew closer they began to glow a deep shining blue. The ground beneath me and the party around me began to rumble deeply, the earth started to turn brown and cracks formed at our feet. The rumbling grew louder and I began to feel it ebbing through my bones. The earth beneath us all began to take form, slowly transforming into a more defined shape, at first just a faint outline, growing as the dirt parted around its dusty form. Its shape became more apparent as the sound grew louder, the earth started to coil upwards, the farthest parts first, constricting toward my feet. Eventually I could tell its true form, a hand rising from the ground, its power began to run through my body, I could feel it ebbing slowly upward, as it did a feeling of euphoria crept upon me.
“Barrier of life keep you safe now, may you’re hunt be a good one!”
I felt so strong, my whole body felt so different, no longer the body of a small boy, but a keen hunter and warrior.
“Here my son, take this quiver and my arrows, only the finest for you my boy.” My father handed me a leather pouch holding at least forty arrows, the timber glistened in the sun; the fine heartwood polished highly and capped with red Phoenix feathers.
“Follow” he said, I didn’t need to ask where or why, my faith in my father and his party was unwavering. He led his party through the large gates that guarded the keep, out into a green pasture, scattered randomly in pieces of torn armour, discarded weapons and scorch marks that had crystallised the soil.
“This be the land of Celts my son, fierce magic dwells within these lands, some say the devil himself cast upon these creatures his own powers, you must be aware of your actions.” His words sent a chill down my spine, for a moment I trembled but refused to show my fear. So much did my fathers respect mean to me.
“Don your cloaks, the enemy is near, I can smell his foul stench to the south, stay close, remember to watch our backs!” cried the party leader. One by one the party raised their hoods, each merging into the air, only trace outlines left to show their existence. Nervously I raised mine too, as I did all the sights and sounds around me amplified, I could see my party clearer, and even some other hunters close by who’s presence I had not seen without my new found sight.
My bow felt heavy to my young arms, bearing weight upon my nimble frame as we crossed slowly into the valley below. My senses were alive with the sounds, sights and smells all around me more than ever before. It was all so unfamiliar, frightening and yet somehow it bore me no threat. I felt safe in this realm as long as my father was beside me.
We walked for about a mile before coming to a mighty stone wall. In its centre a huge pair of gates blocked our passage.
“Wait here, I will scout yonder for enemy”, spoke a rather small cunning looking Kobold. Endrick was his name; my father had made his throwing knives for a long time, and good friends they were.
He walked forward only a few steps before his image vanished from view. The whole group knelt down, I followed their lead and watched them carefully as they adjusted their bows or tested the cuts of their blades, but without taking their eyes off the doors in front.
A loud groan came from the doors, as slowly they began to open toward us. My pulse raced with anticipation as the gap drew wider and wider, and from beyond we could hear a deep menacing scream, growing ever louder.
Suddenly the doors were propelled open, smashing against their stays as a colossal Troll hurtled through them, sending splinters of Ironwood far and wide in his desperate path, bearing a look of terror as he raced past us at a speed I had only seen on the masters of Skalds.
I stood up, wanting to walk backwards in fear, but my father put his hand upon my shoulder, his finger to his lips and whispered quietly “be still, he will be safe”.
I froze on the spot, as more sounds more menacing than before began to grow from beyond the gates. I watched eagerly for the origin of the noise, my breath baited, my hands poised to respond to any threat, my mind filling with images of the hunt about to ensue.
Once again the doors were thrust open, their hinges screamed with pain as they were pushed to their limits, and the wood groaned as it smashed against the stone pillars.
I drew an arrow from my quiver, as I did my father grabbed my arm restraining me from notching it against the string. His gaze told me to be patient, and that our time would come soon, but now was far from appropriate.
Four tall and ugly beings ran toward the trail of the lone skald, who by now was far in the distance, his blurring image but a spec in the base of the valley behind us. Their cries for blood echoed around the walls of the valley, reverberating their voices as they went right past us, we remained unnoticed as they charged forth toward the keep where we began our trek.
Endrick’s voice became quietly in front of us; “That’s all I saw beyond, our brother might have escaped, but our kill is near my kin!”
A large troll approached me from the tower behind us. He placed his large stony hand upon my head and ruffled my hair; “Little young to be here boy, take this totem, wear it at all times and Grollack will know you are safe”
He hung a talisman round my neck, upon its ornately carved face of onyx was a fist holding a sun, little relevance to me, but obviously it meant a lot to this friendly giant. He stepped back and raised his hands towards me, as they drew closer they began to glow a deep shining blue. The ground beneath me and the party around me began to rumble deeply, the earth started to turn brown and cracks formed at our feet. The rumbling grew louder and I began to feel it ebbing through my bones. The earth beneath us all began to take form, slowly transforming into a more defined shape, at first just a faint outline, growing as the dirt parted around its dusty form. Its shape became more apparent as the sound grew louder, the earth started to coil upwards, the farthest parts first, constricting toward my feet. Eventually I could tell its true form, a hand rising from the ground, its power began to run through my body, I could feel it ebbing slowly upward, as it did a feeling of euphoria crept upon me.
“Barrier of life keep you safe now, may you’re hunt be a good one!”
I felt so strong, my whole body felt so different, no longer the body of a small boy, but a keen hunter and warrior.
“Here my son, take this quiver and my arrows, only the finest for you my boy.” My father handed me a leather pouch holding at least forty arrows, the timber glistened in the sun; the fine heartwood polished highly and capped with red Phoenix feathers.
“Follow” he said, I didn’t need to ask where or why, my faith in my father and his party was unwavering. He led his party through the large gates that guarded the keep, out into a green pasture, scattered randomly in pieces of torn armour, discarded weapons and scorch marks that had crystallised the soil.
“This be the land of Celts my son, fierce magic dwells within these lands, some say the devil himself cast upon these creatures his own powers, you must be aware of your actions.” His words sent a chill down my spine, for a moment I trembled but refused to show my fear. So much did my fathers respect mean to me.
“Don your cloaks, the enemy is near, I can smell his foul stench to the south, stay close, remember to watch our backs!” cried the party leader. One by one the party raised their hoods, each merging into the air, only trace outlines left to show their existence. Nervously I raised mine too, as I did all the sights and sounds around me amplified, I could see my party clearer, and even some other hunters close by who’s presence I had not seen without my new found sight.
My bow felt heavy to my young arms, bearing weight upon my nimble frame as we crossed slowly into the valley below. My senses were alive with the sounds, sights and smells all around me more than ever before. It was all so unfamiliar, frightening and yet somehow it bore me no threat. I felt safe in this realm as long as my father was beside me.
We walked for about a mile before coming to a mighty stone wall. In its centre a huge pair of gates blocked our passage.
“Wait here, I will scout yonder for enemy”, spoke a rather small cunning looking Kobold. Endrick was his name; my father had made his throwing knives for a long time, and good friends they were.
He walked forward only a few steps before his image vanished from view. The whole group knelt down, I followed their lead and watched them carefully as they adjusted their bows or tested the cuts of their blades, but without taking their eyes off the doors in front.
A loud groan came from the doors, as slowly they began to open toward us. My pulse raced with anticipation as the gap drew wider and wider, and from beyond we could hear a deep menacing scream, growing ever louder.
Suddenly the doors were propelled open, smashing against their stays as a colossal Troll hurtled through them, sending splinters of Ironwood far and wide in his desperate path, bearing a look of terror as he raced past us at a speed I had only seen on the masters of Skalds.
I stood up, wanting to walk backwards in fear, but my father put his hand upon my shoulder, his finger to his lips and whispered quietly “be still, he will be safe”.
I froze on the spot, as more sounds more menacing than before began to grow from beyond the gates. I watched eagerly for the origin of the noise, my breath baited, my hands poised to respond to any threat, my mind filling with images of the hunt about to ensue.
Once again the doors were thrust open, their hinges screamed with pain as they were pushed to their limits, and the wood groaned as it smashed against the stone pillars.
I drew an arrow from my quiver, as I did my father grabbed my arm restraining me from notching it against the string. His gaze told me to be patient, and that our time would come soon, but now was far from appropriate.
Four tall and ugly beings ran toward the trail of the lone skald, who by now was far in the distance, his blurring image but a spec in the base of the valley behind us. Their cries for blood echoed around the walls of the valley, reverberating their voices as they went right past us, we remained unnoticed as they charged forth toward the keep where we began our trek.
Endrick’s voice became quietly in front of us; “That’s all I saw beyond, our brother might have escaped, but our kill is near my kin!”
