Finish the Sword & Sorcery Story

The sun was rising over Mulveria, bathing her eastern shore in warmth and signaling her inhabitants to start their day. The largest island in the Cicellian Sea, Mulveria was discovered–and colonized by–Edvard Mulver several centuries ago. Mulveria her share of trials and travails over the years, including a disagreements among her people regarding which direction their nation should take. This led to the nation fracturing into five segments and repeated civil wars, one of which led to the destruction of the home built by Edvard in the port city of Vardesberg. The oldest permanent structure on the island went down in flames.

The civil wars continued until Stephan Mulver, one of Edvard’s direct descendants, united the islands against an outward threat. Mulveria’s closest neighbor, Alberia, tried to forcibly annex all of the islands in the Cicellian Sea in order to obtain the natural resources there. Stephan and his advisor, someone he recruited from the mysterious hill people of Zatistan, ensured Alberia did not succeed. After battles on the islands of Balisuria, Conispur, Donnelsport, and a direct assault led by the Zati on the mainland city of Albersville, Alberia agreed to a truce. Mulverians would share technology with the Alberians, allowing them to find resources they would normally not. Other resources not found outside the islands, such as Mulverian marble, would be exported to Alberston at cost for a specified number of years.

Mulverian marble was also used to rebuild the old fortress overlooking Cloverdale. Ostensibly a farming community, Cloverdale was at the base of some hills near Mulveria’s center. Edvard built a fortress on one of the hills, with towers tall enough to see to the sea in all directions. Stephan, talking the name of King Edvard I, transformed the fortress into a castle. Life for ordinary Mulverians was pleasant enough…at first. Wanting to keep the islands from splintering again, Julian I granted more freedom upon being appointed Edvard III’s successor. Nearly half of the of Mulverian family wealth was redistributed among the islands and Julian issued an edict limiting what his descendants can hold.

The throne currently belongs to Jakob III, having taken over after a dying Edvard VI abdicated twenty years ago. Jakob III had his own surprise for his people; instead of appointing a Zati adviser, he took a Zati princess as his wife! Two years into their reign, a baby had been brought to Castle Mulver. He was found in a basket that had washed up on a beach near Orindal. Dubbed Erik Orin Mulver, the child was raised by Jakob and Zukala as one of their own.

Erik had been having some rather odd dreams lately. They always came shortly before dawn and he always woke up before they reached a conclusion. In one of the more disturbing dreams, Erik felt small and vulnerable. He was looking at the back of a person’s head–a woman, judging by her hair–but he never was able to see her face. Until this morning.

Erik was sparring with his mentor, Sir Martin Balis, when he heard a servant calling. “Master Erik! Master Erik!”

Erik landed a direct hit on Sir Martin, knocking him to the ground. Not turning his attention from Sir Martin, Erik laughed a little as he answered the servant. “Over here, Malin.” Then he lent Martin a hand.

As Malin approached, Martin said, “Hitting your man while he’s distracted. Not very sporting, but effective.”

Erik finally turned toward Malin and noticed he was carrying a package. “This just came for you by courier.”

“A package?” He took it from Malin and examined it. “Did the courier say who sent it?”

“No, squire. Just that it was to be delivered on your eighteenth birthday.”

“But that was three days ago!”

“Indeed. He apologized for being late.”

Erik opened the package. He didn’t recognize what was in it but felt it was something important. Sir Martin knew was it was right away, and also knew what it meant. He had to find Jakob right away! No doubt his highness would want him to keep an eye on Erik.

The package had the vague smell of fish about it and was rather heavy and laden. Frowning, Erik set aside his sword and sat down to pull the cargo clear.

It was a book. Or more properly, a large bounded tome. Jakob scowled as Erik fingered it, tracing over the intricate carvings on the covers, which showed two trees with a runic T engraved between them.

“It’s not dusty,” Erik muttered as he turned it over unwieldy in both hands, examining the covers. Turning to its edges, he went on. “Pages are well-worn. I think it’s recently handled…”

“As usual, your attention to details is admirable,” Jakob commented. As much as he wanted to get away the king, the tome held him attention.

Erik opened it. Passages written in a sketchy but elegant handwriting filled the pages and while Erik did not understand the content, he knew the language.

They were written in Zatish…

Control thread/sourcebook.

A very brief comment here, rather than the control thread. I think that CornerChop meant Martin, where s/he has written Jakob in their post.


“It seems to be a sort of journal” murmured the younger man. “Look, see how there are dates marked.” Skimming more pages he noted also many finely drawn illustrations. Some appeared to be diagrams of simple machines, a few were of animals, but most were of plants.

Science was not Erik’s strong suit, but as he skipped around pages in his “present” he began to notice that the entries accompanying the illustrations had one thing in common, they were all dangerous in one way or another. The machines were war engines, the animals were venomous, and the plants either poisonous or possesing mind-altering capabilities.

Flipping to the end of the volume, where a few pages were left blank, Erik saw that, while the writing and pictures were not faded in the least, the last entry had been made nearly a year before he was born, on, he noted, Forman 18. The date did not ring a bell with him.

Turning to Sir Martin with a puzzled frown he asked “If someone wants to give me a gift you think that they’d at least let me know why they thought I’d be interested in(Here he glanced at the book again) spitting sand lizards or deadly helmswort!”

Sir Martin reached out as if to take the book “Let me take it and have it examined…” he said out loud, while inwardly thinking *“I have got to get it away from him, there’s no telling what might happen!” *

“Examined for what?” laughed Erik. “You think I’ll brew up a batch of staffs-bane? Skies above, I’m no alchemist! Besides, it’s just a book, what harm can a book be?”

Turning away and tucking the tome firmly under his left arm Erik picked up his sword with his right hand and walked towards the castle armory to divest himself of his sparring protective gear and get cleaned up. “See you at dinner tonight?” he called back over his shoulder.

“I surely hope so” muttered Martin. Without bothering to change himself he turned and walked as rapidly as he could to the royal keep, hoping he would find the king as soon as possible.

Karin was nearly a full year older than her foundling brother, as adept at the magical arts as he was at the physical. Few Zosti had ever shown such raw ability; even some Zati never reach her level! If she could just learn to maintain control, she could become almost as good as Zukala.

Karin Zastava Mulver had spent the past few months in Zatistan, continuing her training. Nobody was seeing much benefit, though. Perhaps if she could forge a friendship with a Shaladar, it’s said that they can help one focus. She suggested this to Veltoro, her Zati instructor, and he agreed that she should see some benefit of becoming a Shaladora. He helped her gather the things she needed before turning in. Karin woke well before dawn and set off for the last known location of the smallest Drache.

Except for a small circle surrounding a lone rider, it was still dark in the high forests. A soft glow hovered over Karin’s head as she crossed from Zatistan into the wilds of Spantivera. The glow had a dual-purpose, to light her way and to alert her to anything hiding among the trees. Something was certainly nearby now for the glow had, almost imperceptibly, shifted to yellow. Was it a Shaladar or was it something else?

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. A very strong mind had worked its way into hers. Interesting. Most interesting. So much, so soon, so…unpredictable.

“Uh…?” Karin stopped her mount and looked around.

No, young one.

I am not young!

You are to me. Look up.

A very large mass glided overhead, its belly shining silver as it reflected the first rays of dawn. “Woof!” exhaled Karin as she pulled the reins tight. Shalla Vorda?! Instead of the smallest of the small, Karin had found the largest of the large, the rarest of the rare, a legendary Shalla Vorda. Or, rather, one had found her.

My name is “Vadi”, if you please.

Karin gathered her thoughts for a moment as the Drache circled overhead. Please to meet you, Vadi.

And I you. Vadi turned toward the sun. Leave now but return at nightfall. I will guide you to the Shaladar you seek, one who will allow you to reach your full potential.

You mean…?

Vadi quickly departed but left Karin with a lingering thought. Mark my words. You will be a Shaladista!

The final word echoed in Karin’s brain as she headed back toward the school. Shaladista! Shaladista! Shaladista! I’m not just going to be a Shaladar master, I’m going to ride one!

Jakob was reading the news from the mainland that had been brought along with the package. The only story of particular interest was from Fir Gellay, a mining town in Tannet Vaden. Apparently a Shalla Tirar had somehow managed to intertwine residents from the present and future. One of the few remamining chronomancers sraightened out the problem, ensuring everyone was where and when they should be. Jakob and Zukala were discussing the report when it was announced that Sir Martin wanted to see his royal highness.

“Ahhh” sighed Erik, as he sank neck deep into the hot plunge bath. After his workout with Sir Martin he’d cleaned and stowed his fighting gear, then come into the bathouse to rinse off the sweat and grime of an active workout. Mulverians were extremely conscientious about personal hygiene, and all but the smallest towns had at least one public bathouse. Besides helping keep the populace healthy bathouses served as a place to relax and socialize. Women could gossip about their menfolk, and men, who would never admit to gossiping, found the bath a place to commiserate with their fellows about the pressure of life and family.

Erik let his eyes close in the steamy room, and for a moment enjoyed the sensation of feeling his pores open and his muscles finally relax. For now he was alone. But just as he was about to get up and dry off he felt a sharp jab, right between the eyes, so he stayed put a little longer. Then, in his mind’s eye, he saw the book he’d been given, laying on a sort of desk or table. His point of view seemed to be of a person sitting at that desk, and now he could see a hand reach out and begin turning the pages of the book. It seemed to be a woman’s hand however, not his own. Without knowing why, he felt that if this was a woman, it was the same one he’d been seeing in his dreams. Erik experienced a feeling of danger, and the same feeling of dread and vulnerability, because now it seemed that the person at the desk had become aware of him.

Abruptly the vision, if it could be called that, ceased, and Erik, feeling now a bit disoriented, was back in the bath. Again he was about to leave when two more persons entered the plunge room. One was Sir Harold Canning, a knight twenty years Erik’s senior. Sir Harold was the chief man-at-arms to the younger, smaller figure at his side, Prince Julian, heir to the throne of Mulveria. Sir Harold remained fully dressed and armed, standing by the door, keeping watch while his charge came to soak.

“Erik! I didn’t know you were here!” blurted Julian. The boy was proud to finally be, at eleven, considered old enough to use the same facilities as grown men, but still a little self conscious about it.

“Hey, Drache-bait, I didn’t see you out waving your little pig sticker around today.”

“I had riding lessons today! Father said I’m finally old enough to ride a *real *horse, not a pony. I actually got to ride a charger!” Then, with a sound of chagrin in his voice he continued, “Well, it was a very old charger, but I still did it. The Riding Master said I have a natural seat!”

“That’s great, kid. Say, I’ll see you this evening but I have to go now.”

“Bye, Erik!”

As Erik dressed he reflected briefly on how lucky he was. Who would have thought a castaway orphan could be raised by royalty? So far in life, the only thing that distinguished him from his royal brother and sisters was his lack of a noble title, and that on formal occasions his younger siblings proceeded him in processions. Even Queen Zukala had never seemed apprehensive that a boy of other than her own blood lived in the heart of her family. She’d borne four girls before finally producing a male heir, and might have been forgiven for being resentful, but Erik had never felt such.

Before leaving the small bath house Erik retrieved the book from his personal locker. He hadn’t know quite why, but this time he’d locked his belongings away, not something he always did. As he opened the locker he had a vague feeling something was different. As he picked up the book he realized what that feeling probably was.

The book was open. It had been shut when he put it away.

An early snow started falling in the high forests as Karin carefully guided her steed down the slope into Zatistan. She was still reflecting on Vadi’s words when she noticed that her mount was becoming hesitant. She patted his head and said, “Don’t worry, Volo, I won’t forget you.” That was enough to drive the idea of being a Shaladista out of her mind, replaced by memories of her hepling raise a sickly colt in the royal stable. Volomarto had been a runt and not expected to live more than a few days but Karin went out to see him every morning after breakfast and every night before dinner, providing him with whatever was needed. Over time, the small Bay grew into a fine stallion and he was presented to her upon her departure for Zatistan.

When not training, eating, or sleeping, Karin could often be found in the school’s library. She studied everything she could in the hope that something in there would help with her control problem. She had no training scheduled for this day so she made her way to the gallery for a bite to eat, then to the library to continue her research. Some months ago, she had found allusions to a missing heir of a vacant throne. What if that heir exists, she thought, and is currently called ‘Erik’?

For the time being, Karin was still in the forest, just inside Zatistan’s border. She had been so lost in her thoughts about the past, present, and future that she hadn’t noticed she and Volo had picked up some company. Not until a deep voice ordered, “Halt!”

Karin looked around but didn’t see anyone. She continued on, albeit at a slower pace. “I said, ‘Halt’, Zasti.”

This time she brought Volo to a halt. “Votomo, I am in no mood for your ‘jokes’.”

Laughing, a stocky figure emerged from hiding. “Do I look like one of your Zati friends?”

Karin shook her head. “I’ve halted. What do you want?”

“You. Off that horse.”

“Who are you to give me orders? I’m a princess of Mulveria!”

“Riiight.” The stocky figure laughed again. “And I’m a Vadenti king.” The figure stopped laughing. “Off the horse, Zasti. Now.”

“Who’s going to make me? You?”

The figure twitched his head to one side, a signal for one of his men to prepare a warning shot. “You think I’m alone?” The signal to fire had been given and an arrow passed in front of Karin’s nose.

“Well, that’s one,” smirked Karin. “Don’t try any others.”

“You are in no position to give orders.”

Karin started chanting the words for a simple protection spell. “Molohava. Molohava. Molohava…”

A third laugh. “Get this! The Zasti thinks she can do magika!” Karin was soon surrounded by laughter. “Enough. Make her look like a porky-pine!”

Arrows came at Karin from all directions…and stopped dead just before striking, held by an unseen force.

As Karin was dealing with some forest bandits, an alarm went up through Castle Mulver. Like clockwork, a small fire had been erupting in seemingly random locations every thousand days. People couldn’t help but wonder if the old building had somehow acquired a curse.

What on Due? thought Karin as her surroundings suddenly changed from arrows and forest to bookshelves. The library staff and patrons had a similar reaction to this horse & rider appearing out of nowhere. Karin clutched at the crystal amulet around her neck then fell into unconsciousness. Having overcome their shock, some nearby Zosti slid Karin sideways off Volomarto and onto a table while others went to fetch the headmaster and the nurse.

The sun was low in the afternoon sky when Karin started regaining her faculties. She was laying on something soft and warm.

Bed.

She felt around, her eyes still closed.

Strange bed. Not mine.

She laid very still.

Bandit bed!?

Focusing now, she remembered.

No. School!

Then she opened her eyes and looked around the infirmary.

“Welcome back! You gave everyone quite a scare there,” said Stovalo, the headmaster. “Yourself included, I’d wager.” Karin nodded. “Tell me, what do you remember?”

“Bandits, then books. Oh, and I think my amulet was glowing.”

“Interesting. I have heard of this sort of thing but never with a student, and certainly not while mounted on a horse!”

Horse! “Volomarto?” Shae Stovalo hesitated. “What?”

“The experience … may have been too much for him.”

Karin slowly rose to her feet, steadying herself on a bedpost. The expected order to stay in bed did not come. “Where?”

“Stables. Go! He needs all the help he can get.”

Karin crossed the quad as quickly as she could without tripping over her feet and found a sleeping Volo leaning against his stall. He stirred a little as he smelled the familiar odor of his mistress. “Yes, I’m here.” Karin reached up to stroke her big friend’s mane, just as she had done when he was a colt. “I’m beginning to think there’s more to these crystals than I’ve been told. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least if there’s more to Draches as well.”

Erik tried not to show that he was startled. He should have realized that, being fastened by a simple key that Erik didn’t figure would be too difficult to duplicate, the locker wasn’t all that secure. After all, most of those who came into the castle bath house didn’t bring items of great value. It wasn’t unheard of to have unsecured clothes snatched, but even that was rare. Quickly he glanced around, to see if anyone was looking in his direction, but as far as he could tell the other bathers he could see were simply coming and going in an ordinary fashion, and he wasn’t drawing undue intention.

Looking at the book again he saw it was open to a page with descriptions of what seemed to be various gemstones, or crystals. They varied in shape somewhat, and were not cut or faceted, but in their natural shapes. A few, like one that looked like a cat’s eye, were polished or set as rings or pendants, but there was no other alteration in their original form. Erik wondered why such ordinary items would be in the book, because on his previous look through many of the items included in it’s pages had an element of danger.

But before he had time to read further he felt yet another jab between his eyes. “I could do without these things” he thought irritably, but this time he saw nothing, Instead he heard a voice murmuring softly. Erik couldn’t make out what was being said, but instead of a feeling of danger, he felt a sense of comfort, of endearment.

Closing the book once again he wrapped a leather belt around it and fastened it with the belt’s buckle. As he once again turned to leave a castle page approached him, bowed slightly, and told him he was summoned to the presence of the king and queen.

At that moment, a meeting was taking place somewhere deep under the Cicellian Sea. Vadi was presenting her discovery to the Council: I’m telling you, this is The One!

That’s what was said about the last “One”. We’re lucky The Machine didn’t kill him!

As I recall, Stult was the one who suggested him. Don’t you know he has some Tirar blood? Anyway, you weren’t there! I’ve never encountered anyone quite like her before.


Meanwhile, back in Zatistan…

“Aye. And you’d be right!”

Karin looked around. “Who said that?”

“Down here, Darlin’.”

Mouse!A talking mouse!? Sure enough, there was what appeared to be a brown field mouse pacing along the side of Volo’s stall.

“Thanks for not screaming and jumping around. Makes me nervous.” Nodding at Volo, the mouse continued, “Prob’ly wouldn’t do your friend there much good, either.”

Karin opened her mouth but all she could muster was, “Um.”

“Sorry, we haven’t been properly intoduced, have we? I’m Moe and you, I presume, are Karin Mulver.” Karin nodded. “You’ve heard the stories, yes? About the Wayre?” Karin nodded again. “They’re not just stories; you recently met one.”

“Vadi?”

“Aye.”

“How?”

“How I know? I’ve done some work for them. I also know they’re discussing you right now.”

“Me?”

“Aye. You will succeed where I failed.” Moe looked up at an approaching stablehand and turned to go. “I won’t see you again but you will see me.”