Saraya moved across and through the streets with purpose. The fresh wind across her face and head continued to buffet her hood, flicking it’s edges and making it dance about.
The Cloaked Man
Children scuttled and hurried about with their friends carrying brightly coloured kites and other toys. The remaining warmth of the growing season lingered in the air and enticed people out of their homes. Saraya noticed that structures bathed in deep shadow, from either adjacent vegetation or higher buildings, often also had smoke tufting from their chimneys. Her eyes were looking at rooftops and scanning the town’s layout. Surely, the Elowyn shrine would prominently feature among the other buildings, possibly on a hill. Due to the nature of the Glade, the land was flat and commercial interests had increased the number of trading houses. It was hard for Saraya to distinguish a steeple or figure atop a peaked roofline.
A silver-haired man with a youthful face and brown cloak brushed past her on the street trying to avoid absent-minded children. He turned back to Saraya to reveal eyes that sparkled, not from the sunlight, but from within.
“I’m sorry for the invasion of your space, young lady.” The silver-haired man looked over his shoulder and spoke eloquently but with a rasp in his voice. He was clearly much older than he looked.
Saraya turned on her heel and faced the cloaked man.
“It’s alright. The children care not for their wanderings and we must navigate a way around them. Reefs to our ships, if you will.” Saraya continued, “The shrine. Is it near?”
“I’ll be back there shortly. I have errands to run and little help these days. Continue up past the bread house and the mill,” He pointed a pale finger up through the city proper. “Head toward the other side of the Glade. The Temple is situated on the Northern aspect. I’ll meet you there in an hour. Do you require assistance or wish to give thanks to the god of Ulhamur?”
Saraya’s eyes met the man’s. She slightly cocked her head.
“You’re the High Priest?”
“Why are you surprised?”
“Not surprised. I’m slightly confused. You speak of running errands, wear clothes unbefitting of a High Priest, yet your words imply you are the keeper of the shrine.”
“You have not been here before. You know not the history of the Glade. We are resilient but the people have mistrusted Ulhamur for some time. Funding for the Temple has diminished and the city’s development has left it lonesome on the outer borders. I wear a cover cloak when I leave the Temple to prevent a stir. The citizens know who I am, but they maintain peace with me. I mean not to insult them or create disturbance.”
Saraya’s mind was racing, as her eyes darted contemplating how the only shrine to a deity was being neglected in a flourishing city.
“Can I walk with you?” Saraya’s selfish intentions turned to an interest in the city’s deflection from worship.
“I do beg your pardon, Miss.”
“Saraya. My name is Saraya,” she interjected.
“Miss Saraya, this errand, I must make alone.” He seemed anxious to continue moving. “If you wish to meet me at the Temple, I shall be there within the hour.” His last words seemed to trail off as he rounded a corner and left Saraya standing in the street, hands by her sides.
The Armourer’s Den
In the dim light across the earthen floor, Vinaris observed that the forge was refined and built of high-grade stone likely excavated from a local quarry. The coals in the centre were glowing yellow and pulsing as the apprentice worked the bellows. Blades of various sizes lined the walls and suits of armour were positioned outside in the sunlight, the rays reflecting off their polished surfaces.
Vinaris waited on a padded leather stool, hunched over and watching, almost mesmerised by the way in which the armourer smithed the length of metal which was destined to be the blade of a short sword.
“I’ve always admired your skills.”
“You don’t know me, stranger,” the armourer retorted gruffly as the words caught in the thickness of his beard.
“Armourers, steel workers, weapons fashioners. It takes such effort to bring into existence a blade that can save a city.”
While he only reached the breast-plate of a man, the armourer was strong. He beat the metal in a pattern with rhythm and pace that felt magical. The occasional spark danced off the blade and disappeared half a moment later. He dipped the blade into a barrel of water and quenched the iron. Steam rose from the barrel.
“Effort is for fools that use their brawn instead of their rightful talent. Blades do not save cities. They will save your own hide if you know how to wield one.”
Vinaris stood up, clearly towering over the armourer.
“I mean you no disrespect. I am Vinaris of Blue Stream. You've seen my blade. What do you perceive of my skills?”
“Greymon Darkk." The dwarf nodded.
"That sword deflected blows that would split stone. You're either lucky to be alive or you're not telling me something, pale one.” The dwarf took a deep breath and locked eyes with Vinaris. “You’ve been here a long time. At any rate, I told you that blade will have to wait.” He pointed his leather-gloved hand at Vinaris' blade.
My last armourer was my brother. He was the finest worker of metal I know. It took him weeks to forge that blade and if it weren't for his skill.." Vinaris stammered, "You're right. I would be dead. I've been watching your technique. I'll admit, I possess those skills not, but I can see skill in others."
Vinaris shrugged.
“I can wait. My sister is looking to find answers about a weapon we procured.”
“Why isn’t she here then?” The dwarf raised his eyebrows as he continued to work the blade.
“She went looking for the local shrine.”
“I oft go to the baker looking for adornments for my beard, too. Has this town turned mad, or is it just you two travellers?”
“It is not what it seems. It was found amongst the dead where the stream was dry and the ground barren.”
“You found a weapon that belonged to a dead man.” Greymon chuckled to himself. “Dead men have no use for weapons.”
“No. Dead men don't.”
A head poked through a deep purple curtain in the rear of the den joining an adjacent stall. It's face smaller than a man and almost appearing child-like. It was clearly fearful.
"Mr. Darkk. A Rider is on the street! You must hurry!"
"How far is it?"
"No time! Hurry!"
Brandishing Blades
Without so much as a thought, Greymon lifted an axe, and grabbed a helmet. His apprentice followed, three arrows locked within the fingers of his left hand and a crossbow on his shoulder. Vinaris instinctively lifted his blade from its perch and ran for the doorway. No sooner had light struck their face than the Rider was upon them. It's huge form blocked the sunlight and it's fur attacked their nostrils. An arrow flew past Vinaris' hooded head and ricocheted off the hide of the Rider. The steed threw it's head about as it ran at Greymon. It's tusks dug into his side and lifted him into the air. His axe, already in motion, connected with the soft underside of its jaw sending a torrent of blood gushing across the stone. Greymon lay wheezing for breath clutching his side. The steed slid to a halt and lay motionless in a pool of it's own blood. The Rider leaped off his dead steed, barring teeth as frightening as switch blades and lunged at Vinaris, digging it's claws into his shoulder.
Vinaris screamed. His face contorted with pain.
"Where is that hammer, you Elven filth?" A shiver shot through Vinaris' spine. The voice of the beast was deep and almost demonic.
Vinaris continued to scream as two bolts, fired in quick succession entered the head of the beast. Blood trickled down it's face as it looked at Vinaris squarely. It lifted it's lip, showing a bone-coloured canine then snapped of the shafts of the arrows protruding from it's head.
The furred Rider stood up and strode towards Greymon's apprentice. Searing pain rippled through Vinaris' shoulder as he lay squirming on the ground. Now without ammunition, the apprentice backed away and turned to run, his feet skidding about on the dusty ground. A cackle of horror emanated from deep within the bowels of the Rider as he effortlessly leaped in front of the apprentice, blocking his path. He stood tall and simply pushed the apprentice to the ground.
"Your customer has something of mine. Your life simply stands in the way of possession of goods." Saliva teeming with it's own life dripped and stringed between it's teeth as it spoke.
"FILTH!" An impassioned cry shrieked through the street from between two stone structures.
The Rider turned it’s head and roared in the direction of Saraya. Children and babies could be heard crying within their homes.
“You bring this fight into the city, you gutless beast?” Saraya shrieked back in defiance.
“LEAVE NOW! You’ve arrows in your head and your steed has met it’s end. Enough blood has been shed this day.”
“Weapon! Now!” The Rider’s words howled across the street as it swiftly advanced towards Saraya. Within moments the Rider was upon her. It’s hot breath shrouding her face. It’s eyes filled with anger.
“Ai Rayordium Veloriae!” Saraya screamed in desperation, as she stumbled backwards attempting to evade the huge mass of fur and teeth.
Instantly, Saraya’s hands glowed hot white and a burst of radiant magic spewed from her finger-tips. The entire street-scape erupted in light brighter than the sun overhead. The Rider was cut in half, as his scorched limbs burst into sparking fire and irradiated ash. As Saraya fell, her arms lifted. The magical ray lit up the rooftop directly behind the dismembered and blackened remnants of the Rider. Flames began to tear apart the residence from the top down, while petrified screams were heard within.
In the next instalment..
Who will save the children from burning! Where is the barbaric wanderer? Is that hammer really worth the fuss?
Nick
All content is original.
Previous Issues:
Issue I
https://steemit.com/story/@nickmorphew/bash-in-skulls-with-the-maul-of-malevolence-and-incinerate-eye-balls-with-the-staff-of-sacrifice-step-into-a-world-of-fantasy-in
Next Issues:
Issue III
https://steemit.com/story/@nickmorphew/warriors-in-pursuit-for-coin-or-charity-adventures-in-elowyn-glade-continues-in-issue-iii
Acknowledgement
Cover Photo
http://img06.deviantart.net/95d9/i/2010/022/9/9/cobbled_street_perouges_by_jynto. jpg
very nice post and place to
Thanks so much for dropping by!
Nick
welcome
This writing is outstanding but why not have them each as separate posts and each with their own deserving image? This is why my favourite is the first one, the encounter with the High Priest!
So old 👏
beautiful!
Wow. Thanks for the kind word! I hope you enjoyed the read.
Nick
You got my vote and a resteem :)
Hey there,
Thanks so much for resteeming! It's a huge honour. Do you have a favourite character in the story so far?
Nick
upvote done!!
Thank you!
Nick
Very nice post thanks for sharing
I appreciate the kind words. Do you usually read this genre?
Nick
Great topic Thanks for sharing
Hi there.
Which 'topic' are you referring to? Thanks for dropping by. I appreciate you having a look at the post.
Regards,
Nick
I like the post you share this, I think you are creative in determining the object that you will make as a post, thank you already want to share information with this object, hopefully there can always make a post with an interesting object
Hi there,
I'm not sure what you mean by this, although yes - it can be hard determining what subject you plan on writing about. Once you get started, it's a bit easier to keep going on that path - creative inertia, possibly?
Cheers,
Nick
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