#northkingdom

[cycas]

I have ended up writing more about Eregion again: specifically its fall, in Speak Friend and Enter.  And I have another Second Age Eregion work slowly underway. To help with all of this, I made a map of Eregion, aiming for the period around 1600 when the Ring was forged.  

Here's the thinking behind it: 

Eregion is largely a wooded landscape.  Some of the trees have been felled to build the city of Ost-in-Edhil, and to provide fuel, but I think the woods would be preserved. Celeborn and his people came with Galadriel to establish Eregion, bringing Doriathrin forest agriculture skills with them.  

Perhaps Galadriel has even tried planting mallorn trees here, though they did not take as well as they did in Lorien later, and vanished when there were no longer Elves in Eregion to look after them. The woods would be a source of materials, fuel, and bark, but also a place where the Elves would hunt, particularly deer. 

At the end of the Third Age, when the Fellowship walked through Eregion, they noticed ancient remains, paved roads and worked stones.  I am inclined to think some of these may have been Numenorean remnants from the early Third Age, rather than remains of Eregion, simply because of the 4760 years between the Fall of Eregion and the War of the Ring. Eregion/Hollin doesn't seem to be mentioned as being part of Arnor, but it is quite close to the Numenorean settlement of Tharbad. (On the other hand, Eregion did specialise in the technologies of preservation, if the Rings are anything to go by.  Still, a nearly 5000 year old road still recognisable as such tests my imagination somewhat.) I am not sure if Elvish Eregion would have had the wide paved roads mentioned in Lord of the Rings.  I think the roads I have marked on the map above were probably green roads, used for walking routes, occasional horse riders, and perhaps livestock droving, and that the paved roads may have come later.   

Of course, the paved leading to Khazad-dûm with its wide climbing loops as described in LOTR,  may have been a dwarf-road. The creation of loops to reduce the climb suggests that perhaps it was designed for use by heavy carts.  There is no wide lake before the Doors, of course.  That was created by damming the Gatestream, Sirannon, some time in the late Third Age. 

At any rate. Tharbad does exist in 1600SA, but it's fairly new, and primarily a fort defending Numenorean timber extraction operations: there's no bridge yet, and the bogs and marshes along the line of the Swanfleet river are wide and shallow, with several small islands.  

This land will all be drained later, either by Numenor, or perhaps by the new powers of Arnor and Gondor, building the road through Tharbad to connect Northkingdom and Southkingdom.  But not yet.   The forests that used to lie around the river Gwathlo have mostly been felled by Numenor, but there are some left, and most of those will be burned during Sauron's campaign. 

I've given Celeborn a house outside Ost-in-Edhil. Given his well-documented distrust of Dwarves, I feel that he probably wouldn't be very comfortable in the city with the greatest friendship ever known between Dwarves and Elves. Also, during the fall of Eregion, Celeborn was present and joined Elrond's rescue force that was swept away into the north, to found Rivendell, and that would be more likely if Celeborn's usual haunts were at the northern end of Eregion.  I've drawn his house with two long wings and a tower, and I'm inclined to think that the tower was Galadriel's idea, and was made of stone, but the wings were made of carven wood.  There are other settlements scattered across northern Eregion through the woods, but no cities of any size: these are homes for Elves to use particularly in winter. 

When the Fellowship stopped on the road from the Redhorn Gate, they stopped at a hill topped by a few trees, and ringed with large rocks.  I've decided this was probably a way-meet, where two paths originally passed, and the trees are distant descendents of those planted by the Elves. The rocks might be remnants of late fortifications from the siege, perhaps linked to real-world myths about crossroads and waymeets. 

The wide shallow bird-haunted Swanfleet is probably a useful food source for Tharbad, as well as the elves of southern Eregion and the Men of the great woods of Eriador.  All of them hunt in the marshes for birds and eggs.  

I think perhaps the Numenoreans of Tharbad (they all call themselves Numenorean, though even at this early date, some of them have never seen Numenor) mostly hunt on land, in the reedbeds. They are more comfortable with deep water ships than small boats. 

The Elves of Eregion make long shallow punts that are driven with paddles or long poles, which allows them to hunt birds in season on the water with bows or falcons. 

The marshes are also grazing land for cattle, the herds of the original inhabitants of the land along the Gwathlo river. They have been here for a very long time, long before Eregion was established, trading cheese, milk and leather with the dwarves of Khazad-dûm in return for metal: mostly in the form of knives, pots, pans and needles. 

[the-northkingdoms]

Chapter 8

Ganlin woke up breathing heavily, his dreams haunting him.

After the wizard expelled him from the temple, the rest of Ganlin’s sleep was dominated by short nightmares that meant nothing to him. Quick flashes of things he struggled to remember upon waking, only capable of remembering the terror that had filled him within each and every one.

He started to get up, but quickly collapsed as pain danced fiercely across his back, making Ganlin groan. Ganlin took a deep breath and collected himself, then he grit his teeth and tried again, being able to push himself up enough to get his knees underneath him and switch to a kneeling position instead as he caught his breath and tried to recover from the pain his movement caused.

The pain from his collision with the tree had become long forgotten, wiped away from his mind by the sharp pains of the new wounds that scored across his back. With a cautious hand he reached forward and touched the top edge of one of the wounds, pulling his hand back with a hiss right after he touched it. His hand came away with a small spot of thickened blood, meaning the wounds would be scabbing up soon enough.

A sharp knock came to the door, and the guards came through a second later as Ganlin was trying to get from his knees to his feet.

“Come on, get a move one.” One of them said as each grabbed him by an arm, manacled him and took him to the courtyard. As they made their way Ganlin was able to get his feet properly beneath him and start walking on his own.

Ganlin was chained in with the other prisoners, and he could hear some of them laughing behind him. Ganlin kept staring forward as the group began moving down.

Walking was unexpectedly easy, as long as he tried to keep his movement entirely in his legs rather than his back, the wounds were not agitated too much.

Ganlin felt something wet on his shoulder, making him recoil as it hit him. He turned his head around to see a prisoner behind him to his left smirking at him. Ganlin looked down towards his shoulder to see spit running down his skin. Ganlin felt his anger rising, but stuffed it down. There was nothing to be done.

They made it to the floor of the quarry, and Ganlin was given his pickaxe and sent off to work on a section of rock along with the other prisoners. Ganlin went over to part of the rock and raised his pick above his head, then almost collapsed as he swung it down into the rock.

The movement of his back from the swing stretched out his wounds, making the pain rear its head like some hideous beast. Ganlin took a moment to catch his breath, then grit his teeth and began his second swing.

The day trundled on slowly, like an old shenjaw that was out of the water. The sun got high, and it was an unusually warm day, causing Ganlin to start sweating. The moisture running into his wounds made them sting, but Ganlin fought the pain as viciously as he could, turning it into energy he could use for striking down at the rocks.

A cold splash landed on Ganlin, right on top of his head.

He turned around to see if someone else had spit at him, but noone was close enough to him to be able to hit him like that. Another spot of wetness landed on him, this time on his shoulder.

Ganlin looked up in bewilderment. Above him was a thin, dark cloud. Another drop of water came from the sky and landed on his forehead. Ganlin stared up at the sky in amazement as more and more drops came down. He had heard tales of such a thing, occurring on the coast of Ank’har. What was it called again?

It didn’t matter. The water felt wonderful to Ganlin, it was a near holy experience as he felt it more drops come down and land on him, rolling down his skin. It was a wondrous sight, a wondrous feeling.

A whip cracked across the stone just next to Ganlin, making him snap his eyes open and turn to the guard who was standing before him, sneering with their whip in hand.

“What’s wrong, foreigner? Never seen some rain before? Get back to work before I make you.”

Rain. It’s called rain.

Ganlin turned back to the rock and continued mining, his spirits lifted by the rain. Ganlin mumbled the word to himself.

“Rain.”

It was a fun word to say, and Ganlin thought it perfectly represented how the rain made him feel. It was a good word, even from the mouth of a sneering guard. Ganlin enjoyed the sound of it. Just thinking about it calmed him somehow, gave him the strength to push through the pain his back was in, and just keep mining.

As the day drew on, the sky got darker, and the drops of rain got heavier. The guards kept the prisoners working as usual though, and Ganlin didn’t mind. The air was getting colder, and Ganlin felt himself shivering, but he didn’t care, he enjoyed the rain too much. Something about it was just so magical. Even the sound it made as it hit the stone was beautiful to Ganlin. Water had always been something precious to him, he was Ank’haran, after all. It’s not like he had never seen water before, the clans always planned their movements around the Osae-lakes so that they could collect any water that they may have needed for the animals.

Still though, something about the rain just felt so… inexplicably precious to Ganlin. That was the only way he could think of it. It was as if his entire life in Ank’har was missing something, and that thing was the rain, falling from the sky.

Eventually, the foreman called for everyone to stop their work, and Ganlin was being chained up with all the other prisoners.

The rain kept falling in fat, steady drops as the guards began leading them up the ramp and back into the prison walls. The ground was slippery from the water, and for once the ascent was slow, the guards not wanting to risk injury by forcing prisoners to move any faster than they already were.

Ganlin kept looking up at the sky, having to throw his head back from time to time to flick his wet hair away from his eyes so he could stare up at the mesmerising sky, darkened by the grey and black clouds that blocked out the sunlight. He savoured the way each drop splashed across his skin.

Then he almost tripped.

There was a foot stuck out in front of him, and Ganlin almost fell over as he just managed to step over it, stumbling forward and almost slipping on the wet rocks as he managed to right himself up again. His movements echoed throughout the procession, putting their movement to a halt as all the prisoners swayed before finding their footing again.

The guards gave the group a collective glare before one of them said “Careful with it.” and everyone got moving again.

Ganlin looked to his right at the prisoner who tried tripping him, but the prisoner kept their eyes straight ahead, not meeting Ganlin’s gaze. His glance at that prisoner almost cost him as the prisoner on the other side of him tried to trip him while he was distracted. Ganlin came even closer to tripping, and the impact on the whole group was even more extreme. None of the prisoners fell, but it took some time for the group to be in a position to keep moving again. The guards sounded agitated as they yelled for the group to keep moving. People were beginning to whisper and look towards Ganlin, all of them knowing that he was the one who fell, but not knowing the reason why.

A few more steps, and another foot. Ganlin was prepared for that one, and stepped over it without issue. He wasn’t, however, expecting the person chained in front of him to stop mid stride, making Ganlin ram into their back. The impact sent them stumbling forward as Ganlin fell back over the opposite direction, his back smashing against the sharp rocks.

As the prisoners fell over into each other, some of them started shouting at and pushing each other, making all the other prisoners even more agitated.

The group fell into pandemonium as prisoners started attacking those that fell into them, guards started attacking prisoners, and some prisoners began trying to break free of their chains while the guards were distracted, eager to make a run for freedom.

Ganlin was yanked back up to his feet as the whole group shifted, and was greeted by a fist swinging towards his face. He ducked out of the way, just avoiding tripping by bouncing off the back of somebody behind him, and shoulder checked the person who swung at him. The two of them almost fell down, but the chains ran out of slack before they could, causing Ganlin to land on top of the other prisoner, both of them suspended above the ground.

Ganlin’s foe began swinging their arms down at Ganlin’s back, making him scream in pain as the metal cuffs bashed into his back wounds.

Ganlin, desperately trying to use what little arm movement he had to punch the enemy in the torso, lunged forward in a frantic move and bit into his enemy’s shoulder. Ganlin heard him scream as the mob of prisoners moved again, pulling Ganlin away and into the chest of someone else entirely. Ganlin slipped and fell over, his movement inhibited by the chains, but before he could hit the ground somebody picked him up and put one of their arms around his neck, trying to choke him.

As Ganlin struggled against the attack by throwing his elbows back into the torso of the brute, another prisoner ran towards Ganlin, their intent to attack clearly written on their face.

Ganlin threw up his leg to kick them away, but forgot that his legs were kept together by the manacles around his ankles. The complete misallocation of his centre of balance made him fall again, taking many of the people around him down with him.

Ganlin was at the bottom of a heap of bodies that were all kicking, grabbing, and punching. Ganlin did what he could to defend himself from the brawl by drawing his legs closer to his chest and pushing away any hostile limbs that came too close to him.

The noise was near unbearable; a constant roaring of voices that was smothered by the press of bodies on Ganlin. There was shouting, screaming, the smack of people hitting each other and of people falling hard against the rocky ground. All Ganlin could do was focus on breathing as he swung out at anyone who was reaching for him, trying to proactively protect himself from any attacks. A stray elbow came back and smacked into Ganlin’s left eye, stunning him. Someone was punching his legs. His back was in an unspeakable amount of pain, and he could feel himself starting to become dizzy, almost as though he had stood in the hot sands of Ank’har without shade or water for too long.

Suddenly, the pressure on his chest was easing. The sounds of the brawl were dying down. The person above Ganlin was suddenly lifted and cold drops of rain landed on Ganlin’s face. People were picking him up, too. He couldn’t put together who, a guard, maybe. As Ganlin was pulled further and further, he realized that his chains had been broken, and the prisoners were disconnected from each other. Ganlin still felt dizzy. Tired, too. It was hard for him to concentrate, to piece together any thoughts that made sense. His head hurt. He was dizzy. He fell asleep.

Ganlin was consumed by pain the very moment he awoke. He was laid down on his back, the tender skin rubbing against the ground. Dirt, he thought. After the pain, he felt raindrops against his skin; it was still raining. How could the sky contain so much water? He cleared the thought from his head and tried to concentrate on his current situation. He opened his eyes to try and get a sense of his surroundings, but his left eye was swollen, making it difficult to see through it. With his right eye he could tell that it was night time, and that he was outside. His limbs were bound together in chains, preventing him from moving anything other than his head. He turned it to look in one direction and saw the main gate of the prison, confirming that he was in Silvirtharn’s front courtyard. Turning his head the other way, Ganlin saw he wasn’t the only one in his position; five other prisoners were chained up on the ground, the six of them forming a line outside the front door to the main building.

Past the prisoners, Ganlin saw a group of guards erecting a tall wooden pole. Ganlin’s heart trembled at the side of it, his dread rising as it was fully put up and some guards came over to the lined up group of prisoners and grabbed the one that was farthest away from Ganlin. The two guards lifted up the prisoner and dragged them over, chaining them to the pole the same way they did with Ganlin. After tying him, the guards stood back and waited, watching the prisoner writhe as they woke up and tried to get out of their bindings.

The prisoner’s cries were silenced when the door to the prison opened and a group of people walked through it into the courtyard. Ganlin recognized three of the six people as the prison’s highest ranking officials; the foreman, the captain of the guard, and the warden. The others Ganlin couldn’t see clearly enough in the darkness to even know if he recognized them. The tallest one of those Ganlin didn’t recognize was holding a small box of something, and they seemed to be taking great care with it; something precious was clearly stored inside. The group was led by the captain of the guard to the main gate, where they stopped and talked for a few more brief moments before the door was opened and the strange half of the group walked out.

The three leaders of Silvirtharn spoke in low, hushed tones as they walked back across the courtyard, the foreman and warden heading inside while the captain of the guard stayed outside.

Once the door to the prison closed, the captain turned and strode towards the pole, stopping a few strides away. A guard walked up to the captain and provided them with a whip. The captain spoke as they worked upon unraveling it.

“After today’s incident in the quarry, each prisoner who had remained conscious was questioned about the event. Many of them pointed to you as having been one of the main aggressors. For your involvement in this, and your attacks against the other prisoners. You shall receive fifteen lashes.”

The ship cracked through the air the second the captain finished their sentence. Ganlin closed his good eye and turned away as the whip struck the prisoner’s back. Ganlin tried to ignore it, attempting to focus on anything else that he could instead; the way the hard ground felt on his back, how much each of wounds hurt, the fact that his left leg was itchy and no matter how he tried to contort his body the chains wouldn’t allow him to reach enough to scratch it. He tried to tune out the sounds of the whip and listen to the rain instead, but that did nothing but make the prisoner’s cries even more noticeable.

Time dragged on slowly, and dread gripped Ganlin’s body tighter and tighter as the guards went down the line and grabbed the prisoner’s for their punishment. The harshness of the punishment became more severe with how involved the prisoners were with what had happened in the quarry. The first prisoner received fifteen lashes, then the number went up to twenty, then twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five. At one point during one prisoner’s whipping, the captain of the guard had to stop to take a break, remarking that their arm was growing tired.

Ganlin’s head had become a dark pit of nothingness when the guards finally picked him up, dragging him towards the wooden pillar and tying his wrists above it. To a degree, it didn’t even feel real to Ganlin, it was almost like he was floating or in a dream, merely watching it happen rather than experiencing it.

“After today’s events in the quarry, each prisoner that was still conscious afterwards was questioned concerning the event.” The captain said, reciting what they had said to each prisoner before. “There were a few conflicting recollections of what had happened, as is natural, however all of them point to one immutable fact. That fact is that you were the prisoner responsible for it all, being careless with where you stepped, causing the near-falls of the group, and becoming aggressive when those near you became frustrated with carelessness.”

Ganlin wasn’t listening, choosing instead to focus on the sound of the rain against the ground and against the wood of the pole, desperate to keep his thoughts away from what was about to happen.

“As punishment for being the main cause of the brawl that happened today, you shall receive forty lashes, and be subjected to the pit for two days.”

Pit? Ganlin had never heard mention of any pit? What was the pit?

Thoughts were destroyed as the first lash hit his back, scattering his thoughts into oblivion as the strike undid any healing his other wounds may have managed. Ganlin grit his teeth through the second. Screamed at the third. Was crying by the seventh. Fell unconscious at the twelfth.

-End of Chapter 8-

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[the-writing-owl]

A Writeblr Introduction

Hello everyone, I’m Noah! You can call me that, or Owl, or I guess anything you want to call me, I’m not that picky. I’m 18 and I use he/him/his pronouns.

As some of you may know, I have another tumblr account that I use to post my weekly sword and sorcery-adjacent fantasy series, The Northkingdoms (you can follow that here, if you aren’t already.) As of right now, chapter 5 just came out, and the whole thing is at about 15k words so go check it out if that interests you.

I decided I would make this account so that I could talk about my other, larger scale projects without clogging the Northkingdoms with stuff that is not Northkingdoms related. Forgive me if this introduction is messy, I’m still new to, and not very good at this tumblr/writeblr stuff.

I’m a really big fan of fantasy, especially epic or high fantasy, although I’m able to enjoy stories of any genre or length. My main influence writing wise would definitely be Robert Jordan’s the Wheel of Time series, but obviously there’s some other stuff influencing me as well, and the second biggest influence constantly shifts depending on whatever I’m reading or really into at the time. I’m also a poetry fan, so maybe I’ll post some of that here as well. 

THE WIPS

WIP THE FIRST: Five Wicked Stories of Darkness

This is going to be the main one I’ll be talking about. FWSoD (working title) is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It’s going to be a ‘short’ story collection thing of five different stories, about 10k words each, that are all vaguely connected, as they take place in the same world. Not dark enough to really call Dark Fantasy, more like Dark Fairytales, at least aesthetically speaking. Could also serve as the launching point for a possible series idea I have that also takes place in the same world. Since I’m aiming for each story to be 10k, I’m shooting for 50k words total.

WIP THE SECOND: To World’s End

TWE is a story about a band of would be heroes venturing forth to save the world. The idea for this came from reading about Long-time Nuclear Waste warnings. The setting is a post-apocalyptic fantasy Earth, where the monuments of our mistakes stand tall as the symbols of new religions. Pretty much if Lord of the Rings was a lot shorter and also had a lovechild with Fallout and then that lovechild had a lovechild with The Stand. I’m not sure about length for this one, I’m thinking somewhere between 75-100k words.

WIP THE THIRD: A Dark and Stormy Night

I’ll be honest, I’m not even sure how to describe this one, as I sort of just randomly started writing it like two weeks ago, and as such the plot isn’t planned out to any degree. Stands out from the other two because it takes place in modern times on planet Earth. All I can really say is that on one dark and stormy night, a woman gives birth to a very strange child, and that’s where the story begins. Somewhere around 60-70k words I think.

And that’s it! I mean, there’s plenty of other ideas kicking around in my head, but I don’t want this list to be like thirty entries long, so I’ll just keep it to these three for now. Yeah, so if anyone who sees this want’s to be on the taglist for any of these (if I can figure out how those work haha) then let me know and I’ll add you! Also, I’d love to spread my wings and meet other writers on here, so reblog if you’re a writeblr (or dm me or something) and I’ll give you a follow!

You can follow me at Obinoahkenobi on instagram or on twitter at TheNoahHBryan.

Have a good day!

[cupkaviproblemi-blog]

Girl of Northern Kingdom in illustrated novel "In The Woods" I am currently workig on. #InTheWoods #uSumi #slavs #mythology #doodles #northkingdom #girl #cartoon #bosnia #serbia #croatia #macedonia #russia #poland #folklor

[viyanateaa-blog]

North kingdom :D @sliperiet @northkingdom #umeå #northkingdom

[the-northkingdoms]

New Art (Ahhhhh!)

We got some new art (ahhhhh!)

A little over a week ago, my good friend @the-mothed-man opened up their commissions, so I decided to order one! So yeah, here is the second ever official piece of NorthKingdoms art:

(It's so great, I know!)

It's Ganlin everyone! Lou did an absolutely amazing job and they were a joy to work with! Their work is great and you should definitely check out their stuff! I don't want to flood their inbox but I also think they're still doing commissions for the time being as well so I'm sure at least some of you would want to take a look at that.

So yeah, everybody go thank Lou for me!

-NHB

[the-northkingdoms]

Chapter 11

AN: Sorry for the late upload gang, it's been a very busy day, and it ain't getting any less busier.

Ganlin could hear Lyzdrik beginning to say something, but he didn’t stay long enough to hear what it was. He pushed some branches out of his way and left the clearing, walking back into the forest and heading in the direction he thought the path would be.

A few seconds later, Ganlin heard movement behind him.

“Wait! Ganlin, wait!” Lyzdrik said as loudly as they could in the night. Ganlin ignored their words and kept walking forward.

The noise of the foliage moving got louder as Lyzdrik ran forward and positioned themself in front of Ganlin.

“Just wait, Ganlin. What do you think you’re doing?”

Ganlin sidestepped them and kept walking forward as he answered.

“I told you, I’m going to the skal I swore to protect, I must fulfill my oath.”

Lyzdrik moved in front of Ganlin again, putting their hands on his chest in an attempt to halt his stride.

“Yes, I know what you said, but why are you doing it? What is there to protect some skal from? Besides, what are you going to defend it with, exactly? You just got out of a prison, you have no weapons. Or have you forgotten that?”

Their words made Ganlin stop walking for a moment as he considered what Lyzdrik said. He thought of his armour and spirxe, probably sitting in some container in the corner of a room in Silvirtharn. Considering the warden’s love of money, it wasn’t entirely impossible that Ganlin’s weapons were gone, sold off to some wealthy Alsaid, or whatever it was the Northerners called those of high political standing. Internally, Ganlin made an oath to himself that he would find his weapon and armour again someday, it was Ank’haran, and as such should be in the possession of one. That’s what he would do after he helped the skal, he decided. He would go to Myrlarn, and maybe the wizard’s powers could help Ganlin track his belongings down.

That was for later though, first he had to help the skal. Ganlin pushed Lyzdrik out of the way as he spoke.

“I’ll find one.”

Lyzdrik made a noise that sounded like a startled alcht.

“Find one?” They asked, seemingly bewildered.

“I don’t know how it works in Ank’har,” they continued, “but there’s not exactly weapons laying around to be picked up. The only way to get one is to take one. What is one man going to do, anyway? If there’s an issue that is causing them so much trouble that they need someone with a weapon to handle it, then leave it to the king’s soldiers! It’s their job to solve problems with violence!”

Ganlin spun around to face Lyzdrik.

“The problem cannot be solved by soldiers, wizard: the soldiers are the problem. The warriors of Lady Sivna are occupying the skal, robbing food from those who lack enough to support themselves. I made an oath to put an end to the injustice, and so I shall.”

Lyzdrik took a long look at Ganlin before they spoke again.

“Why were you put in Silvirtharn, Ank’haran? If you’re coming from Ank’har, the first kingdom you enter should be Sitar, how did you end up in Kalwast?”

“I was in Sitar, that was where I was taken prisoner.” Ganlin replied.

“By Kalwastian soldiers?” Lyzdrik asked.

Ganlin thought back to the day Sivna had taken him prisoner, trying to remember all the words she said.

“The commander of the soldiers who took me,” Ganlin began, his memories clearing in his mind “Said they came under the protection of the crown of Kalwast.”

Lyzdrik looked at Ganlin, their face heavy with concern as they processed his words. Then they cursed.

“So,” they said, “It seems even here, there are the beginnings of violence in motion.”

They turned and motioned for Ganlin to follow them.

“Very well then. I ask that you stay with us, for the night at least. Get some well needed rest. I won’t try to stop you from leaving, but if you stay the night I’ll do what I can to send you in the right direction to this skal you speak of. What you’ve just told me is troubling, very troubling.” and with that, they turned away and began walking back to the clearing. Ganlin looked at them, thinking about their offer. He didn’t want to admit it, but Lyzdrik was right, Ganlin needed any help that he could get. His bones ached as well, emphasizing just how badly his body needed the rest.

Ganlin sighed, then followed Lyzdrik.

Both Elizarthe and Rollan looked at Ganlin as he stepped into the clearing after Lyzdrik. They pointed towards one spot on the ground.

“You can sleep there, Ank’haran.”

Ganlin went to where Lyzdrik had indicated and laid down, listening to them talk to Elizarthe and Rollan in a hushed tone.

“He’s staying the night with us, but leaving in the morning.” Ganlin heard Lyzdrik say. “He just gave me some troubling news. It seems that King Jalvyg has begun moving his armies into Sitar.”

Ganlin thought it was Elizarthe he heard gasp, but he was facing away from them all, so he couldn’t tell for sure.

“Why does it seem all the kings have become so bloodthirsty so suddenly?” Elizarthe asked.

“They’re kings, Eliza,” said a voice which Ganlin didn’t recognize. Rollan, then. “All kings will eventually begin to thirst for blood, it is in their nature.”

“It’s true that the Kingdoms have a long history of violence,” Lyzdrik was speaking again, “But Elizarthe is wise to be worried, Rollan. With the news of this occupation, and with everything happening in the West, this might become more than just skirmishes between kingdoms, but a true war, across all fourteen, maybe kingdoms not from the North-Kingdoms will join as well. We must be cautious moving forward, and tomorrow we leave straight for Maeshokyole. The council must be warned of these developments at once. Rollan, put out the fire and get some rest, you won’t be needed tonight, Elizarthe and I will be working throughout the night.”

Ganlin heard Rollan step away from the other two, kicking dirt on the fire and walking over to one of the bedrolls.

“All night, master?” Elizarthe asked. “How much are we doing tonight?”

“We aren’t doing much at all, apprentice,” replied Lyzdrik, “just one thing, in fact, but it will take us all night to work on it. You shall help me make a guardian for our Ank’haran friend. Quickly now, gather your materials, it will take long enough already without you dakking about it.”

“Yes, master.” Elizarthe quickly replied, hurrying over to her pack and grabbing it, bringing it back over to Lyzdrik.

Ganlin felt his curiosity heighten. What were they making, and in what way could it help Ganlin? He rolled over to look at them, but since the fire was out he could only make out their silhouettes, side by side, working on something in the moonlight.

Ganlin was eager to know what it was they were doing, but he was exhausted, and soon enough his eyelids became too heavy, and the veil of sleep had them.

For the first time in a long time, Ganlin didn’t have any dreams as he slept through the night. Absolutely none at all. Even the disjointed ones that had begun to plague him were gone, allowing him to actually rest during his unconscious hours.

When Ganlin awoke, the sky was a dark purple as the trees blocked the light of the rising sun from view.

Ganlin stretched, his body feeling better than it had in weeks, then sat up to look around.

The other packs belonging to the other three were lined up against some trees, ready for the moment they left. Just next to them Rollan sat cross legged, sharpening the long blade he carried.

On the other side of the clearing Elizarthe and Lyzdrik were sitting, still in the same place they were when Ganlin fell asleep. Elizarthe sat with her eyes closed and had her hands to her chest, clutching something. Lyzdrik sat opposite to her, and was whispering something under their breath, also toying with something in their hands.

Ganlin turned to Rollan to ask him if he knew what they were doing when something streaked right past him, just inches away from his face.

Ganlin spun around as the object flew past him, and his eyes followed it as it went across the clearing, suddenly turning upwards before it could hit the wizard or their apprentice.

The object, which Ganlin could now tell was a creature of some sort, flew in a circle in the air, just above the treeline, before coming down again, landing between Lyzdrik and Elizarthe.

As they both opened their eyes, Ganlin stood up and walked over to the two of them.

“Very nice work,” Lyzdrik said to Elizarthe “You’re getting better. Nice work indeed.”

“Thank you, master.” Elizarthe replied shyly.

“What was that?” Ganlin asked as he approached them, looking down at the creature that stood between the wizards.

Elizarthe looked up towards Ganlin. “Something to help you on your way.” She said, the creature hopping into her hand as she raised it up towards Ganlin.

Upon closer inspection, Ganlin saw that the creature was an Alcht, though unlike any that he had seen.

For one thing, it was smaller than most alchts he had seen. All the ones in Ank’har were at least twice as big, some being so big that their wings weren’t able to carry them into the sky. The alcht in front of him was maybe the size of Ganlin’s head, with its wings tucked away by its side. The alcht turned its head, seeming to assess Ganlin as he did the same to it. Ganlin watched as the alcht excitedly shook its wings, its red scales making a soft tinkling noise as it shifted. Ganlin noticed that there was also a red outline around the alcht itself, going beyond the scales, leaving a hint of an afterimage behind. Ganlin asked Elizarthe about it.

“You can notice it?” She asked, seeming a little embarrassed about it. “Hopefully it’s not too noticeable, I was a bit sloppy with conjuring it.”

“Conjured?” Ganlin replied, stupefied by what he was looking at, “So it’s not real?”

Lyzdrik was the one to answer Ganlin’s question, looking through their pack and taking out some strange looking violet plants.

“In what sense do you use the word ‘real’, Ank’haran? The orspurv is certainly here, taking up space.” Lyzdrik used what Ganlin had to assume was the Northern word for an alcht. “You can reach out and touch it, and it will react to that. It has some sort of instinct, although that instinct was designed by Elizarthe and I. The red you can see is due to the effort of creating it. Sometimes, when conjuring, you can make mistakes that are hard to notice until you’ve already finished what you were creating. The colour you see is the conjuration leaking magic, as it were. It should stop soon enough, and even if not, I think it looks convincing enough.”

“Convincing enough for what?” Ganlin asked.

“For you to say you tamed it.” Lyzdrik said, Elizarthe raising her hand higher to Ganlin as they spoke. The alcht jumping from her hand to on top of Ganlin’s left shoulder.

The sudden movement startled Ganlin, making him jump. The alcht held onto his shoulder.

“You made this to come with me?” Ganlin asked. “What’s it supposed to do?”

“It serves two purposes,” Lyzdrik replied. “The first is that it will allow us to sense where you are, and if you are in any grave danger, the second, and more important one to you I’d say, is that it will serve as a form of protection for you. It will attack any who tries to harm you or it. It may be small, but I think you’ll find it quite ferocious. Elizarthe and I made sure of it.” They smiled then placed one of their palms against Ganlin’s face.

“Now, just one more thing to help you on your way. Close your eyes, and think of the skal that you mean to go to. Picture it as best you can, every detail you are able to remember will help. It’s been quite some time since I’ve used any sort of divination magic, but this should work.”

Lyzdrik began crushing the plants they had in their other hand as they closed their eyes in concentration.

Ganlin did what was asked of him and closed his eyes as well, picturing the skal as best as he could remember in his mind.

He thought of the day he arrived, how it looked as he approached it as the sun set. He thought of the strange structures made of wood, how it felt to run his hands over it, how his hand stung as he hurt himself on the wall. He thought of the area surrounding it, what the forest looked like as he crept through it to find Ragnov. He thought of the people of the skal, of which he knew very little about. He pictured them standing on the edge of their skal, staring at his approaching figure. He thought of the girl Madelna, who had started him on his current journey, the one he swore his oath to, the reason he was going back there. He thought of how the ceiling looked as he slept on the floor. The way the light played across the few buildings as the sun rose in the early morning.

“Very good, Ganlin.” Lyzdrik said. “You can open your eyes now.”

Ganlin did so as Lyzdrik opened their hand and threw the crushed up plants high above them. Although the air was still, a wind came, blowing the bits of plant through the air, until they scattered and fell along the ground in a line.

“There you go,” they said as the last piece fell to the ground. “Just head in that direction, and you’ll reach your destination eventually.”

Ganlin slowly nodded, still unnerved by the strangeness of the magic, but willing to put up with it for the time being. He was involved with them, whether he wanted to be or not. He began walking.

“Ank’haran. One moment.”

Ganlin turned as the mostly silent Rollan stood up and approached him, a blade in their hand. “The Ank’harans don’t use swords, right?” He asked.

“They’re called swords?” Ganlin asked. Rollan gave a small grunt that could have carried the hint of a laugh.

“I know very little of Ank’har, but I’ve heard you use axes as weapons instead.” Said Rollan, using a word Ganlin had never heard before. Did he mean spirxes? “We don’t have an axe with us, but I did bring this spare sword. Take it.”

Rollan held it between his hands and stretched his arms out towards Ganlin. Ganlin reached forward with his right hand, grabbing the ‘sword’ at the strangely short handle.

“I know it’s not an axe,” Rollan said, “but the blade is short, and the principle is the same; just cut into them.”

Ganlin turned the sword over and studied the blade; it was of excellent craftsmanship, and it was kept in good condition. Clearly, Rollan was a man who took care of his weapons. Ganlin slid the weapon into the sheath that Rollan provided him, letting the larger man help him fit it against his hip. The object felt strange by his side, heavier than his spirxe.

“Thank you all for your help.” Ganlin said, inclining his head to each of the three of them. “I appreciate it more than I could ever say. I will go to Ludilakir, one day, and I hope that I may get the chance to see you all again.”

Lyzdrik nodded back.

“You as well. I wish you the best on your mission.”

“Thank you.” Ganlin replied, turning away from the group and walking through the boscage and out of the clearing, following the trail of petals that were scattered by the wind.

-End of chapter 11-

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[the-northkingdoms]

NorthKingdoms Masterpost!

Hey y'all, here's just a masterpost so that as I post more chapters it'll hopefully be easier to navigate to certain chapters! (Also, if you want to check out my other projects, click here.)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

[the-northkingdoms]

CHAPTER 12

The first day, Ganlin traveled as quickly as he could. The few breaks he took were short, only being just long enough for him to regain enough of his energy before setting off again. He did his best to stick to the exact direction that had been laid out by the petals, trying to keep an eye on where he would be whenever he had to walk around a tree. The conjured alcht stayed on his shoulder throughout it all, eerily silent save for a few rare chirping noises that didn’t sound quite right. It was almost as if the thing didn’t fully understand how to be the creature that it was. Ganlin spent most of his time ignoring it, focusing fully on his destination instead.

He mentally went through many different plans as he walked, considering the best method of saving those in the skal. Assuming that Ganlin had seen all of Lady Sivna’s forces when he had been taken prisoner, then Ganlin estimated that she had somewhere close to two dozen soldiers with her. He also remembered that Sivna had said something about a caravan, so that would mean there would be even more soldiers now. With it being impossible to know just how many soldiers there would be, Ganlin tried to come up with a good plan. After all, there was only one of him, and he only had a weapon he was unused to and an alcht on his shoulder. He was even without armour, so any strike from a weapon could be the end of him.

He had considered challenging the lady Sivna to a duel, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Even if she agreed, if Ganlin won that fight, nothing would stop any of the other soldiers from attacking him, and the duel would do nothing but draw out his death.

A more subdued approach would have to be taken, Ganlin realized. Perhaps he could draw away some soldiers, take them in as many small groups as he could, draw them away from the skal if possible, string them along on a path of death, resting only when he absolutely had to.

Ganlin grew more confident as he thought over his plan, and kept going over it in his mind, trying to make it more solid, making sure he was thinking of everything that he could.

After another hour of walking past sunset, Ganlin found a small clearing to rest in. Laying against the trunk of a tree, his small companion flew from his shoulder and perched atop one of the branches above, its unblinking eyes watching the clearing.

The creature’s artificial gaze was discomforting for Ganlin, his skin crawling as he noticed that its eyes glowed softly in the night. Turning over to ignore it, he eventually fell asleep.

As had become normal for Ganlin, he dreamed throughout the night. He had many different dreams, but there was only one that he could remember come the morning.

He was walking through a settlement that looked like what was essentially a larger version of the skal that he was headed towards in his waking life. It was the morning after some great disaster, fresh evidence of it all around him. Most of the many buildings were completely destroyed, the few that were still left standing having still suffered great damage, with scarred walls, collapsed roofs, and shattered doors.

Rain had come recently, within the last couple of hours, Ganlin thought. The sky was still cloudy, and puddles of water were dotted around the main pathway.

Ganlin walked along the lonely pathway. Any survivors of the disaster were already long gone, fleeing the night before.

As he walked, it was much like when he had first started dreaming with Myrlarn: he didn’t know quite where he was going, but some force drew him forward, as if his body knew where to go, even though his mind did not.

He took himself to the edge of the skal, and he turned into the wreckage of a building, the parts of the roof that hadn’t fallen sagging downwards. With what little was left of it, it was impossible to tell what the purpose of the building had been before its destruction. Everything, including the floor itself, was blackened, almost like a great fire had burned everything, Ganlin thought.

Immediately, the uncanny instinct that is always present in dreams told Ganlin that he had thought correctly. There had been a fire the previous night, and it had raged from building to building, burned the entire skal down to ashes. More than that, he had been there for the fire, hadn’t he been? Why couldn’t he remember?

There was a quick parting to the clouds, and something glinted in the dull ray of light that shone down, before the sunlight was swallowed by the clouds again.

Ganlin walked forward, and picked up the object that had glinted. It was a piece of something, pottery that had been destroyed by the building collapsing. Compelled by finding the object, Ganlin knelt down and moved around the debris, picking out pieces that he knew were a part of the art.

He couldn’t explain why, but he felt compelled to find every piece, to reorganize them, to catch even a glimpse of what beauty the work beheld before its destruction. His hands moved with haste, quickly grabbing the pieces that he saw. Once he had retrieved enough pieces, he began putting them back together on the floor; lining up each jagged piece to see what the original work was.

As he worked, the artwork upon the pottery began to reveal itself. It seemed to be a depiction of a battle, fought between a group of warriors and some great beast, with wicked claws that were twice as long as a person was tall. It’s body was long and wavy, seeming to be hovering above the air by using a pair of ferocious-looking wings. Something about the artwork seemed familiar to Ganlin, as if he had seen it before. Before the fire had come. Why did this place seem so familiar to him? Why did he feel as if the skal were so familiar, he’d never been here before, it was just a dream, wasn’t it?

No, Ganlin thought to himself. This is no dream, this is my home.

Yes, that must have been it. This was his home, his pottery, his artwork. That had to be it. Everyone else had fled, but he had to come back, to see the damage that had been wrought on his home. He had to see if there was anything after last night, after the attack from the… from the..

The what?

Ganlin abandoned his work of restoring the art as the ground shook beneath him. Almost as if the foundations of the world itself did not want him to remember what had happened, to know the truth.

The ground around him began to crack, and fully immersed in the dream as he was, Ganlin ran from the wreckage of his home and out of the skal. The ground let out a mighty groan as it shook again, throwing Ganlin off his feet and face first into the wet dirt.

Ganlin flipped himself over, onto his back, and watched in horror as the ground split, not just around his home, but the entire skal. The destroyed settlement was raised upward as the ground lifted itself, then began to slope.

Ganlin followed the slope upwards with his eyes, watching the skal disappear as it rose up further and further away from him. Ganlin moved his eyes even farther upward, towards the mountaintop. There he saw a humble building of stone that looked to be as old as the mountain itself. It rose further into the sky, above the clouds themselves.

LUDILAKIR

The name rang throughout his mind, his body, his very soul. Existence itself became agony as he watched the mountain raise itself upwards, ever upwards, refusing to halt its progress towards the stars.

He remembered now, the skal had burned because of him. It was his fault that everything had fallen into ruin. He had caused the fire. Yes, that was it. Memories came upon him like a sudden gust of wind that threw sand into one’s face. The entirety of the skal burning like a torch in the night, a beacon of ruin to all those who saw it.

LUDILAKIR. IT AWAKENS AT LUDILAKIR.

Something was happening. The mountain was shaking as well, almost as if it were no longer capable of supporting its own unknowable height. Something terrible was going to happen. Was happening. Had happened. Set in motion, no longer able to be stopped. The destruction was Ganlin’s fault. The destruction was Ganlin. Right? No, that couldn’t be it. The destruction was-

A scream tore through the air, a sound so sharp it ripped the sky apart like a sharp blade through fabric. Ganlin screamed with it, becoming one with the sound of rage itself. Reality collapsed, folding in on itself.

Ganlin awoke shaking, his body covered in sweat. He tried to breathe, but it felt like his lungs were too small. His body was shaking, he held onto the tree had been resting against as he spasmed uncontrollably, the memories and feelings of the dreams haunting him.

After what felt like years, Ganlin stopped shaking, and breathing became more and more easy. He unwrapped his arm from around the tree, still keeping a hand on it to lean against as he stood up.

Hearing a small chirping noise near him, he turned and saw some alchts, looking like a more natural version of the one he was traveling with.

There were three of them, standing on the ground, staring up at him with their large, strangely shaped eyes. Discomforted by their stares, Ganlin offered them a small nod of his head. They kept staring at him. No, staring above him.

Ganlin’s conjured companion hopped down from the branches, landing on the ground closer to Ganlin than to the other creatures.

The conjured one chirped, and the other ones chirped back, but nervously. A few seconds passed, then the false chirp again, this time to no reply.

Ganlin’s small companion took a tentative hop forward. The others screeched and raised their wings before turning around and flying away. The conjured alcht looked up at Ganlin.

Ganlin sighed and bent down, offering his hand for the creature to jump on.

“Come on, little creature.” He said, raising his hand back up to his shoulder, allowing it to perch.

“It seems like the only friends either of us have out here is each other.”

With the alcht on his shoulder, Ganlin continued on his way through the large forest. He tried to pet the alcht, but it just pecked at his hand whenever he reached towards it.

The second day passed slower than the first, Ganlin running on sleep that had not been as restful as he had hoped it would be. He rested often throughout the day, trying to take small naps, but unable to. Every time he closed his eyes he would see that terrible, wretched mountain. His diet was poor, eating the berries that his reptilian companion would pick at as they rested, as he figured that if the alcht was picking them they’d be safe to eat. He always ate very little though, just to be safe.

Walking was lonely, so Ganlin began talking to the alcht that remained perched upon his left shoulder.

“I walked for many days to get here from Ank’har. I didn’t speak much then, but then again, I had no one to talk to there.” He looked towards the alcht as he stepped over a fallen tree.

“Hopefully you don’t mind me talking to you, do you?”

The alcht just stared back, its strange eyes unblinking. Ganlin was the one to break the staring contest.

“Guess you do mind. Sorry.”

Ganlin stared forward as he kept walking, painfully aware of the fact that the alcht’s unblinking eyes continued to stare at him. Ganlin spoke without turning to it.

“Stop staring at me like that, it’s unsettling.”

His words seemed to do nothing for the bird, which kept looking at him anyway. Ganlin sighed and just tried to ignore the thing, which became exceptionally difficult the longer he tried to ignore it.

The thing disturbed him. It was a conjured animal, a false creature. It was true that upon a first impression, especially if were a quick one, then the thing on Ganlin’s shoulder would look normal: Just a man with an alcht, strange, but apparently nothing too unusual. Upon closer inspection though, the more the imperfections and irregularities became visible. Since Ganlin had nothing to really look at other than the alcht, he had become very aware of all the tiny odd things about it. Like how some of its scales went in the wrong direction, or how one eye was differently shaped than the other, how sometimes its nostrils would just disappear for a time. The red afterimages had mostly disappeared, but Ganlin still noticed them from time to time. Ganlin tried his best to ignore the strangeness, and the entire creature altogether, but it was difficult to do so. The journey was incredibly solitary, and due to the rush that Ganlin was in, he didn’t have the time to really interact with anything other than the strange creature, even if a shiver went down his spine every single time that he looked at it.

A few hours past midday, Ganlin was resting in a clearing, watching the alcht as it attempted to socialize with a brood of other alchts, even though they were clearly different species.

As he watched its struggle, Ganlin remembered a conversation he had with his father many years ago, when he was a boy, scared of the shelbaks that one could sometimes find on the beaches of an Osae. Most of the other kids paid them no mind, and some would chase after them, trying to catch them, but Ganlin would not, could not. Something about the way they moved seemed so unnatural to him, and as such he always stayed far away from them. The conversation with his father that he was thinking about happened one day, after some other children ran through the tents, parading a shelbak they had killed, its swinging legs scaring Ganlin enough to make him hide away and cry. Shortly after he had begun sobbing, his father found him, and sat with Ganlin, comforting him with an arm across his back.

“What is wrong, Ganlin?” His father asked, his face creased with worry. “Why do you waste water crying?”

Ganlin tried swallowing down his tears, the shame of being found crying making him want to cry even more.

“Kanra and some other kids ran by with a dead shelbak. And-and, and it scared me.”

Ganlin’s face was red with shame by the time he had finished speaking. His entire life he had wanted to become a warrior, like his father. Warriors never got scared! And they certainly never cried, either! At this point, Ganlin would never get to be a warrior. The thought was enough to start his lip trembling again.

Ganlin’s father began moving his hand in tiny circles around Ganlin’s back, and the simple touch went a long way in calming Ganlin down.

“Now, my child, it’s okay. Just take deep breaths, you will be okay.” Hearing the words from his father’s mouth was enough to make Ganlin believe it. “Do you know why the shelbaks frighten you so?”

Ganlin shook his head no in answer. Ganlin’s father hummed a small song, something he often did while in thought.

“Come with me to the waters, Ganlin.”

Nervous, but always quick to listen to his father, Ganlin followed him, sitting next to his fathers on the sand, only a few strides away from the water.

“Now look, Ganlin.” His father said, pointing his finger. “Do you see that shelbak, right over there, by the waters?”

Ganlin looked where his father pointed, and immediately clutched a hand around his father’s arm as he saw the shelbak.

“Y-yes. I see it, father.”

“Okay, good.” His father replied. “Now, I want you to do something for me. Name it.”

Ganlin looked up at his father.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, Ganlin. Give it a name.”

Ganlin looked at the shelbak, as hard as that was to do, and thought of a name.

“Kairig.” Ganlin said, naming it after one of the other children that he didn’t like.

His father laughed at that.

“Come on, Ganlin. Don’t name it after someone you don’t like. Be nice, give it a nice name.”

Ganlin harrumphed, but did as was asked of him. He settled on the name of one of the cloth-weavers, who had always been nice to him.

“Sitaza!” He said. His father nodded.

“Yes, that’s a good name. Well done Ganlin. Now, look again at Sitaza. Does the shelbak look quite as scary, now that you know its name?”

Ganlin looked again at the shelbak, and Ganlin realized that no, it wasn’t as scary. Sure, it was a weird shape, and the way its legs move was gross, but he didn’t feel as scared of it.

“No, I guess not.” Ganlin said, his answer making his father smile.

“That’s good. Do you know why I made you name it, Ganlin?”

Ganlin shook his head honestly.

“Well,” his father began. “It’s because when something is scary, or worrying, it’s almost always because we never really understand it. You don’t like shelbaks because they move differently from the way you think they should, and you don’t understand why they move so differently, and so that makes you fear them. Now that you know their name, though, maybe you can understand them a bit better. Do you understand what I’m saying, Ganlin?”

Ganlin nodded very enthusiastically at his father.

“Yeah, things with names aren’t scary!”

His father laughed.

“Close enough. I’m proud of you for overcoming a fear today, my child. There are many things in life that will scare you, but I know you’ll be strong enough to face them.”

“I can do anything if it’s with you!” Ganlin shouted happily, no longer worried about the shelbak. His father simply smiled and hugged Ganlin close.

Ganlin wiped at his eyes as he thought of the memory, rubbing at them since they were stinging for some reason.

Ganlin stood up and walked over to the alcht as the others hopped away, wanting nothing to do with them.

“Ready to go?”

The creature looked up at him, hopping back up onto his shoulder.

“It’s okay if none of the others get along with you,” Ganlin said, trying to make the thing feel better about their lack of luck with socializing. “I’m sure where you and I are going is a lot more interesting.” Ganlin tried his best to smile in a comforting way.

“We should come up with a name for you, friend. Have any ideas?”

The alcht looked at him, and chirruped in response, seeming to almost shrug their wings as they did so.

“Very well,” Ganlin said as he began walking again. “We’ll think of something eventually.”

-End of Chapter 12-

<-Previous Chapter

[the-northkingdoms]

Chapter 5

The dream was the same as it had been the night before.

Again, he was in the skal as it burned, the wind raging around him. Again, the undead Ragnov came for him. Again Ganlin tried to fight him, and was quickly defeated, somehow losing his hand in the process. When Ragnov swung down for the killing blow, Ganlin was once more transported to that strange, endless hallway. He walked it endlessly again, the only difference being that it didn’t take as long for him to arrive at that specific door. Opening it, Ganlin saw the room was the same, and the figure was seated in the same place as they had been in the dream the night before. When Ganlin

tried speaking to them, and again they looked up at him, extending their finger again, and again opening their mouth as though to speak and

Yet again Ganlin woke up with a start.

A guard banged on the door, and Ganlin was led off to the quarry again.

Ganlin’s second day at Silvirtharn was much like the day before, which was much like the day after, which was similar to the day after that, which was identical to the day beyond that.

Ganlin’s days ran together, as they were so identical. Wake up, go to the quarry, break apart stone all day, go up to the prison and eat, help sort through the rooms with other prisoners, go to bed, have the same terrible dream before it cuts off in the same place, wake up and do the day all over again.

As the days went one, Ganlin began to feel worse and worse. The bruises along his arm were healing, but the injury his back took from Ragnov throwing him into the tree felt as though it was only getting worse, the pain being amplified by the work of mining in the quarry. Some days it hurt so much it was difficult to get out of bed, sometimes the injury would cause him to be slow in the mines, earning him a whipping from one of the guards. Ganlin could feel his spirit breaking.

One morning, one where Ganlin woke up earlier than he did most days, he stayed on the bedroll, looking up at the ceiling as he pondered the dream that he had been having every night.

Growing up, Ganlin never paid mind to his dreams. Some of the more spiritual Ank’harans would talk about how important they could be, a signal of something important to come, but they had never been interesting to Ganlin. He rarely ever remembered his dreams, and as such he never analyzed them.

Even Ganlin could tell this dream was different, though. He had never had the same dream more than once before, and none of his dreams had ever felt so real. There was something about it that was different, and Ganlin was unsettled by the fact that he couldn’t figure it out.

Soon enough a guard came to his door, and he was led out into the courtyard and down into the quarry. His back hurt, more than it usually did, and it took most of Ganlin’s energy to even stay standing.

Ganlin felt broken as he took up a pick and began picking away at the stone, trying his best to work through the pain. When he left Ank'har, he knew that he wasn't the strongest warrior to ever be, but he had still thought himself competent with a weapon, a force to be reckoned with. Maybe he was, but did it matter if he was good when it seemed like everyone else was great? He had managed to put down Ragnov, but he probably still would have died, had it not been for Lady Sivna arriving. Ganlin felt weak, weaker than he ever had. He couldn't stop thinking of himself as an idiot, for going to the North. He had thrown his life away, disgracing himself by not being able to follow his word, and now trapped in a prison, too weak to even think of escaping.

His weakness made him angry, and the fact that he was in no position to do anything about it made him angrier. The shame of being unable to help that skal made him angry, the pain in his back made him angry, the monotony of the work made him angry. All of it made him angry. Ganlin had been angry in his life before, he was human, after all, but this was something different, something primal. The rage of a man who was chained, a man who had not only failed himself, but had lost his freedom in doing so.

The anger drove him to swing his pick harder and faster. The pain that exploded across his back from the force of his swings only made him swing even harder. The rock flew out at frightening speed as he took his pick to it, bending the metal head. He swung until he could swing no more, and he could no longer draw breath faster than he was using it. Slowing down as exhaustion washed over him, he raised his pick one more time, then stopped.

There was something different about the rock here, something was stuck within the stone. It was speckled throughout the rock, glittering a beautiful dark blue as the sunlight shined upon it. Ganlin reached out with curious fingers, feeling the strange texture of it. He could almost see through it, but there was a strange cloudiness to it, so he could only see hints of what was on the other side.

Ganlin had realized that the quarry had grown quieter. There were still the sounds of picks hitting the stone, but it was quieter. Tearing his eyes from the beautiful stones, he saw it was because more than a few of the other prisoners working in the quarry had stopped to stare at him, only those farther away from him had kept working. Most of the guards were watching him as well, some having a nervous hand on their sheathed weapons. Farther away, the Foreman was staring at him, and though too far away to see his face clearly, Ganlin thought the man looked afraid.

Ganlin pointed at the strange rocks with his pickaxe. The head of which, Ganlin realized, had become completely blunt.

"I found something." He said.

The guard closest to Ganlin moved over to where Ganlin was standing and took a closer look at the objects that were set into the rock. Seeing it, they gasped, and waved the foreman over to take a look. The stocky figure ran over, escorted by two more guards. When he saw it, the foreman gasped as well, and Ganlin saw the man's lips pull upward in a hungry looking grin.

"Ohoho," He intoned, leaning forward and running one of his figures over the surface of the strange rock.

"Great job prisoner, I believe the Warden will be more than happy to find out about this. Yes, excellent find indeed." The foreman turned to the surrounding guards. "One of you, go to the kitchens and make sure the cooks know that this one is to get an extra plate at mealtime, as a reward for his discovery, and the hard work to get it." He added, casting an eye at the blunted pick. "And you there," pointing at one of the other guards. "Go and find the Warden, and inform him that one of the prisoners has discovered a deposit of Vievstone."

At his words, some of the guards gasped, mouths falling agape and eyes going wide. Then they all dispersed, running off to do as the foreman said. The foreman turned back to Ganlin.

"Wonderful find, truly a wonderful find. Go, grab another pick, then come back here and mine out around the Vievstones. Let us see just how great a treasure you have found for us."

Ganlin, confused by all the uproar, walked towards the farther side of the quarry, where a barrel of spare picks were found. Behind him, he could hear the foreman getting one of the other prisoners to come over as well.

Vievstone. The word sounded somewhat familiar to Ganlin, and it took him some time to place why. He had heard the word before in some of the stories that the elders of the clans told, vievstone would sometimes be mentioned in the stories of great wizards. However that was all Ganlin could remember, as he hadn't paid much attention to those stories. He had never been interested in the stories of wizards, their abilities had not awed him, but simply frightened him. No one should be able to do such strange and powerful things, Ganlin thought.

He regretted having not listened as much to those stories now, as he found himself wishing he knew what the importance of the strange stones were.

Coming back, he aided in the mining out of the surrounding area using his new pickaxe. As they were working, the Warden quickly came, his retinue of guards struggling to keep up with him.

"Let me see!" He said as he arrived, excitedly shoving one of the other prisoners aside so that he could look at it.

In the five minutes it took for the Warden to arrive, Ganlin and the others had exposed more of the strange looking stones. Ganlid heard the Warden take a sharp breath as he looked at it all, a smile coming to his lips. The Warden stood up and took a couple steps back.

"Foreman, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Keep watching the other prisoners, I shall watch this personally. Continue, prisoners." He continued on, speaking to Ganlin and the others now. "Expose the rest of this deposit."

With a quick "Yes Warden", the foreman returned to his position, watching over the other prisoners as they toiled, and Ganlin and the other two prisoners kept mining, this time under the watchful eye of the Warden.

Another five minutes passed, then another ten. Then twenty. As the sun moved through the sky, more and more of the Vievstone was uncovered. Ganlin could see the Warden becoming more and more flustered as the mining kept going, revealing even more of the blue stones. Soon, other prisoners were halting in their work to shoot awed looks at the deposit, whispers spreading among the crowds. The Warden got the guards to pull in more miners, and finally, after a full hour of work, the full vein was uncovered.

All said and done, it stretched on for a length that was about five times Ganlin's height laying down, it went about two full body lengths deep into the stone, and even went a little bit below the ground. There must have been close to a hundred of the beautiful blue stones, all various sizes, shining gloriously in the light of the sun.

"This is a very good find." The Warden rumbled in his low and gentle voice, excitement leaking through the tone of his words. The Warden turned to the foreman. "Which one of these prisoners is responsible for this most bountiful find?"

"That one, Warden sir," the foreman responded, pointing at Ganlin, who was breathing heavily as he tried his best to stand straight, sweat running down his body. "The foreigner, from the West."

The Warden looked Ganlin straight in the eyes, and nodded, almost as if he had expected that to be the case.

"Very well. Thank you, foreman. Get the others to extract the vievstones from the rock. I'll send out some messengers to those who will be very interested by what we've dug up here today. You, Westerner," The Warden said to Ganlin, as the foreman got the other prisoners to continue the work. "Come with me, I'd like a word with you."

Ganlin followed as the Warden led him away from the crowd of miners and towards the centre of the quarry, where a more private conversation could be held. The Warden was first to speak.

"I have realized I don't know your name Ank'haran, and I would like to speak to as more than a prisoner or a foreigner for the time being."

Ganlin felt awkward at the attention of the giant man, and something about the attention he'd been getting since finding the stones was making him nervous. Both in the case of the Warden and foreman's excitement, and in the looks some of the other prisoners were casting towards him. Not wanting to somehow anger the man by not answering quickly enough, Ganlin spoke.

"I am Ganlin, sir. Ganlin Hardell."

"Ganlin, eh?" His name sounded odd when spoken by the Nothern accent of the Warden. "Very well. I would like to both congratulate, and thank you for your find today, Ganlin Hardell. You have done very, very well today."

The Warden stopped talking at that, staring at Ganlin. Realizing he was waiting for a response, Ganlin bowed his head.

“Thank you, Warden.”

The Warden inclined his head, and continued talking.

“Now, it may be hard to believe, but I am not a bad person. I recognize the hard work of those who are kept under my care here, and I believe in rewarding that hard work. Since you have found something truly special, I shall give you a reward that is truly special as well. After your meal tonight, you shall not have to do any work. Instead, you shall be given the chance to sit outside, simply enjoying the fresh air without exerting any labour. Then, a guard shall take you to a room with a warm bed that shall be yours for the night. I also notice the wounds that mark your body, I shall have a medic look at it, see if there can be anything done about that.”

Ganlin stared at the man in front of him, awestruck. His second day, and he had been blessed with something that sounded so nice. He thanked the divines for such good fortune.

“Thank you Warden. I greatly appreciate it, and you are very kind.”

“Yes, I know. Now get back to work, it’s not mealtime for you yet.” And with that, the Warden walked off, his guards following him back up to Silvirtharn proper.

Ganlin walked back to the vievstone and began chipping away at it again, helping the other miners break the stone around so they could be transported as smaller chunks to be extracted more precisely. An odd sense of pride swelled within him. A string of thoughts began weaving themselves together in Ganlin’s head. Perhaps this was a sign from the divines, telling him to not give up hope. If he continued working hard in the quarry, perhaps he could truly earn the favour of Warden Kilvarg and find a way to convince him to let Ganlin go. Was it possible to earn freedom? Ganlin felt himself becoming hopeful, maybe this was a second chance, a way for him to get out of Silvirtharn and to make things right with his honour.

“Warden gave you some reward, did he?” said an accented voice.

Ganlin hadn’t noticed the prisoner come up beside him, striking the rock next to Ganlin. They were a little bit taller than him, and their matted hair went down to their shoulders, showing that they had been at Silvirtharn for some time.

“Watch your back then. It’s a rare day when the others treat somebody who gets that treatment fondly. That’s just how it works, falling on the Warden’s good side means you’re on everyone else’s bad. A lot of the people here already weren’t fans of you, being a Westerner and all, so watch your back, because today definitely didn’t help your standing.”

Ganlin thought on the prisoner’s words for a moment before he responded.

“So, what? There’s not much they can do about it, is there?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe someone trips while swinging a pickaxe next to you, and instead of hitting rock it hits skin, accidents happen after all, even if it’s rare. Maybe someone hears you whispering about escape, and let’s the guards take care of it. Or maybe they just outright attack you, one can never know for sure.”

“Would they really attack me? What would be the point in that? They’d only get in trouble for such a thing.”

The other prisoner laughed, a humorless sound. “They would, yeah. In the end though, would it even matter? We’re all in here until we die anyway, they can’t really make it any worse.” With that, the prisoner went off to a different section of the rock.

Ganlin thought about the prisoner’s words as he continued mining. Looking around, he noticed that some of the others would occasionally look at him with glaring eyes. Perhaps the Warden’s good favour wasn’t as much a blessing as it first appeared to be. Ganlin cursed himself for being so stupid as to not have already considered the inherent danger of his current position. Each prisoner at Silvirtharn was imprisoned for a reason, that reason being they were deemed dangerous, and not in a way that they could be used as soldiers. Ganlin felt a fool for not noticing the danger sooner. He thought he should thank the prisoner who warned him, but decided against it. If some of the other prisoners truly did hold a grudge against Ganlin, then talking further with the one who warned him might earn them some trouble, as well, and Ganlin didn’t want to repay their kindness by getting them hurt or possibly even killed.

As the day stretched on, Ganlin became more and more nervous, he found himself casting looks over his shoulder without thinking about it, and the muscles in his legs were constantly tensed, ready to launch him out of harm’s way. All of Ganlin’s combat training was kicking in as he became more on edge.

When the foreman blew his whistle, and told the prisoners to head back up, Ganlin was constantly on a swivel. During mealtime, there was a space on either side of Ganlin as they all ate, others whispering, and some of the larger and more muscular prisoners casting dark looks his way.

Ganlin was able to sit at the table and tuck into a second serving of dinner as all the other prisoners were taken off to do their nighttime tasks.

Then, after he was done eating, guards escorted him outside, and he was able to enjoy the view of the stars in the night sky, which allowed him to calm himself somewhat. After spending some time outside, the guards then led Ganlin into Silvirtharn, going down many different hallways before leading him into a room with an older woman, grey hair tied in a knot behind her head. The woman was the doctor the warden had mentioned, and she tended to Ganlin’s wounds. She used thread to stitch the worst of his cuts, and rubbed some strange cold powder on his back, easing the pain immensely.

“It’s not a perfect fix,” she said, “but we can’t have you spending a week doing nothing, so this is the best I can do.”

Ganlin was so grateful for the being gone that he didn’t mind that it would only be absent for a while. He thanked the doctor, and the guards led him to his room for the night. It was about twice as big as his cell in every dimension, and there was a large, soft bed. Ganlin fell into it, and immediately drifted off to sleep.

-End of Chapter 5-

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[the-northkingdoms]

Chapter 9

A/N: Hey guys! I just want to quickly say thank you all so much for the huge boost in support recently, I really appreciate it! That's all, enjoy the chapter!

The steady sound of rain thudding into something above Ganlin’s head is what woke him up. The sound was loud, a constant drumming of water against something else that refused to cease.

Ganlin opened his eyes, but there was only an oppressive darkness surrounding him.

This was the pit, then. Ganlin reached out with his hands, which were still chained to each other, and came in contact with a hard surface that was only about half his total arm’s reach away. Ganlin was leaning against the opposite wall, which just felt like hard dirt. Ganlin rotated himself, feeling out the size of his new accommodations. It was roughly circular, and Ganlin could walk from one side of it to the other with less than a quarter of his full stride.

The space was cramped. Looking up, Ganlin couldn’t see anything above him, but he could tell from the sound of the rain that there was something above his head protecting him from the weather. Partially protecting, he corrected, as a drop rain slipped through and landed on his head. Ganlin reached above his head, trying to find out just how tall the ceiling above him was. He had to reach his arms fully out above his head and do a small jump above that to feel what was above him. It had the texture of wood, and though Ganlin’s hands hit it with some force, it barely budged, proving that it was locked, or held down somehow. Ganlin jumped up and down a few more times, hands outstretched towards the piece of wood above him, but he had no luck grabbing it. The walls were worn down as well, meaning there weren’t any places for Ganlin to place his hands and try to climb his way out of where he was, what the captain of the guard had called ‘the pit’.

There was no way for him to get out, so Ganlin did the only thing he could do, which was to look upwards, waiting for some source of light to reveal itself.

As time passed, the rain did not let up, it continued to fall, drops coming down through whatever cracks existed in the wood covering that was above Ganlin’s head.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The droplets of water kept coming down as the sound of the angry skies raged above, sounding like rosha beads rolling against thorca plates.

There! A bright flash of light, existing for only a fraction of a moment. Gone in an instant, Ganlin was only able to see the rough shape of the wood above him before his world was plunged back into darkness.

Ganlin jumped as a deafening sound filled the air. It was louder than any sound Ganlin had ever heard before in his life. It sounded as if the very world itself was splitting apart, waking some terrible rumbling beast.

Ganlin stared wide-eyed above him, waiting to see if the source of the terrible sound would reveal itself.

Again, there was a quick flash of light that disappeared before Ganlin could even process it, only ever existing in his mind as a memory. Then again, a great rumbling that made all the hair on Ganlin’s body stand up on end.

More flashes of light, more deafening sounds. Eventually, Ganlin put together that the flashes of light were somehow causing the horrible sounds.

Once he realized that, he remembered his reoccurring dream, of his fight with Ragnov amongst the burning structures of the skal. Ganlin remembered the strange appearance of the sky in that dream, and he thought that perhaps the flashing light and deep sounds were part of the rain, as he remembered that those were also present in his dream.

The realization calmed Ganlin somewhat, though he still jumped whenever he heard the sounds roaring through the air. The rain continued coming down, and a very small puddle of water was forming by Ganlin’s feet at the bottom of the pit.

Ganlin realized just how truly horrible that pit could be once his legs began to tire from standing for so long. He tried to sit, but the area was too narrow, his feet uncomfortably raised above the ground and his back painfully pushed up against the dirt. Ganlin stood back up, the tightness of the space making it a more difficult endeavour than trying to sit down was. Once he was back up, he tried supporting his weight by laying on his side against part of the wall, but there was still too much weight on his legs, and the lack of room made the position maddeningly uncomfortable.

As he struggled to find some form of comfort, the malicious simplicity of it all was revealed to Ganlin. It was a perfect punishment. Throw someone into the pit, and for however long they were stuck in it, they would truly be unable to find any form of respite for themselves.

As Ganlin struggled to find a comfortable position, a memory suddenly came to the forefront of his brain. His first night at Silvirtharn, when the cart first pulled into the courtyard. Near one of the outer buildings, Ganlin had seen some guards reaching down into a hole in the ground, lifting out a prisoner and dragging them back into the prison, the prisoner completely unable to support himself.

Now that he was in the same position as that prisoner, Ganlin could understand why they had seemed so broken by the experience. The whipping was to break a prisoner’s body, make them doubt their unruly actions, the pit was to break a prisoner’s will, their mind itself. Time in the pit was made to wear down at one’s very soul, leaving them an empty husk that would be incapable of even thinking of being unlawful ever again. With nothing but the rain and his fears to keep him company, Ganlin fell into a very uneasy sleep.

The dreams he had were sparse and strange. Tiny fragments of an incomprehensible whole, always moving, never staying long enough for Ganlin to get a grasp of what was happening in any particular one. They were filled with past skirmishes and future battles, old hurts and pains yet to come, if there was any truth to them to be believed. There were strange men who stared at him, and Ganlin stared back, none of them aware of the strange creature that watched over them all, waiting in silence. A storm, a mountain, a man, a fire.

Ganlin awoke again, his head feeling as if it were filled with sand.

The rain was still going, but the noises and the lights had stopped, and the rain sounded weaker than it had before. The hole that Ganlin was trapped in had been filling with water while he slept, however, and the water had reached close to halfway up his shins. Ganlin’s feet, which were completely submerged in the water, felt numb. Ganlin’s heart quickened with concern as he lifted one foot out of the water and grabbed it with his hands; he could feel his foot with his hands, but his foot couldn’t feel his hands.

A small beam of light came down softly through a crack in the wood, and Ganlin saw something even worse: His foot had become a completely different colour. His toes had changed to a much darker tone, and the rest of his foot had not gotten as bad, but looked as if it was going much the same way.

Ganlin quickly checked his other foot and saw that it was in the same state as the first. What was happening? Did it have something to do with the water?

Ganlin panicked as he tried to get his body in a position above the water. He managed to cram his limbs together in a way that his feet and arms were supporting all his weight as he supported himself by bracing against the dirt. Ganlin’s arms were already shaking, he was too tired, too hurt to be able to keep himself up for long.

Ganlin heard voices above him, and turned his head to the sound, trying to pick out the words through the sound of the falling rain.

“My deepest apologies, Warden,” said one of the voices, their accent placing a strange emphasis on the ‘ee’ sound of deepest. “I know it is quite early in the morning, so I hope my arrival did not wake you.”

The warden’s voice quickly replied to the one that Ganlin didn’t recognize. The warden was farther away, and Ganlin couldn’t hear all the words, but he heard enough to know it was some reassurance that this meeting was not an inconvenience.

“I must admit that I am quite curious as to the reason for your early visit, and for it being so soon after the last time,” the warden continued, was the other voice one of the people Ganlin saw before being put in the hole? Ganlin shifted his weight as the conversation continued.

“Simply put, warden, we have conferred with our peers at Maeschekyole, and they are very interested in your offer indeed, but they are requesting we bring a sample back with us, to confirm that your vievstone is real.”

Vievstone? Those people Ganlin had seen were wizards?

The shock of it made Ganlin lose concentration, and his foot slipped, making him lose his careful balance and fall back into the water, creating a loud noise as he splashed into the water. The voices above him stopped. A second passed before the stranger spoke again.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, just one of our more unruly prisoners enjoying their punishment.” The warden’s reply was spoken in a reassuring tone. “The hole is probably filled up with a bit of rainwater, most unpleasant I’d guess.”

“You put them in a hole?”

“Only those who refuse to step into line when presented with tamer persuasions. It’s brutal, but sometimes it’s what must be done.”

“Hm. Is it the Ank’haran that’s in there? I saw him tied up on the steps last night.”

“Why yes, it is. I don’t know what it is that brought him here, but I can’t imagine this was it. He was the one who found the vievstone, actually.”

“Oh, he was? Who would have guessed that some Ank’haran could be so good at digging?”

The warden laughed deeply at the other person’s comment.

“Indeed!” Came the warden’s hearty reply. “He started off as quite the hard worker. Such a shame that he had to become so rebellious.” The warden clicked his tongue. “It is what it is, I suppose. You say that you need more vievstone? Very well, I’d hate to let go of more of it so soon, but I’m certain we can negotiate a deal that we’re both happy with. Come, let’s get inside, out of the rain.”

Ganlin could hear clinking of armour and the sound of footsteps moving away from him, leaving him alone in the hole again.

Ganlin’s legs were cold, but a spark of hope was lit inside his chest and made him feel warmer. If the person the warden was speaking with was connected to the wizard in Ganlin’s dreams at all, then perhaps he would finally be set free! Ganlin hoped that the wizard wasn’t too angry with Ganlin to help him.

The only issue was that the person who spoke with the warden said they had come from a place called Maeshekyole, and Ganlin had never heard of such a place, and the wizard that Ganlin had spoken to said that they were in a place called Ludilakir. Ganlin combed his memories, trying to remember if the wizard had said anything about a place called Maeschekyole, even if only as an offhand comment.

Ganlin could not remember the wizards even mentioning it, however, and that simple fact made Ganlin uneasy. Was this mysterious group that had arrived at Silvirtharn another group of wizards? A group that was an opposing force to those who resided in Ludilakir? Did this other group know anything about Ganlin? The person who had just met with the warden did mention Ganlin as an Ank’haran. Were they also looking for him, and if they were, what were they planning to do once they had him?

Ganlin shifted to keep his feet above the water as he tried to consider all of the possibilities. Would this new group also try to release him from Silvirtharn, or were they happy to let him stay and rot away? If they freed him, what would their plans be after that? They wouldn’t take him out of prison just to kill him, would they?

To Mak’al’mat with them all, whatever their plans are. Thought Ganlin, growing sick of all his worrying.

Whatever it is they want from me, be it my help or my life, they aren’t getting it.

Ganlin didn’t know what their plans were, and Ganlin didn’t care anymore. Afterall, the wizard’s question might have had nothing to do with who Ganlin was, it might have just been simple curiosity. If they did want him and if they got him out of Silvirtharn, he would thank them and then leave to find his way back to the skal so that he could make good on his oath and protect it in whatever way that he could. Ganlin spent the rest of his first full day in the pit coming up with plans, trying his best to mentally prepare for anything that could happen to him.

From if the group let him out and tried to kill him to what he would do if the guards of the prison forgot he was in the pit and didn’t know or care where he was anymore.

Sometime later he heard the person leaving the prison grounds again, thanking the warden for the extra vievstone.

Ganlin wasn’t given any food, but at one point the wood above him was lifted, and some water was poured down from a waterskin, having to open his mouth to catch as much of it as he could before the wood was placed back over his head. Ganlin had to close his eyes when it happened due to the sun being so bright to him, causing him to miss some of the water.

Ganlin continued to keep himself positioned just above the water, so that his feet would not fall into a worse condition. For the entire day he sat like that, listening to the world above him as the prisoners and guards of Silvirtharn went about their day, doing the work that was assigned to them. Sometimes he’d fall asleep, for how long exactly he wasn’t able to tell, but it was never enough to make him feel fully rested.

The rain slowly faded away, and by the time night was falling again the weather was back to normal.

Ganlin was half asleep and staring blankly at the wall through half lidded eyelids when the wood above him was lifted. Ganlin looked up, but saw no one there.

“Hello?” He said in a voice that was lower than a whisper. No answer came. Something above him moved. Ganlin squinted his eyes as he looked upwards, trying to figure out what it was he saw above him. It looked like the rough shape of a person, except the light of the moons were shining through it, it was as if Ganlin were looking at someone through a shadow, and the harder he tried to look, the harder it became for him to focus on them. Ganlin thought he saw the shape move again, but he couldn’t be sure.

The shape stretched, part of them coming down holding a small glass bottle filled with a liquid that gave off a soft yellow light.

“Take it.” the shape above Ganlin said. “Quickly. Take it and drink all of it, no matter how it tastes.”

Ganlin reached out with his hands and grabbed the bottle, which fit comfortably in the palm of just one of his hands. Ganlin popped open the lid and tipped the bottle back, letting the liquid go into his mouth and down his throat.

Ganlin struggled not to gag the second it made contact with his tongue. The thing was rancid, and it felt like it was burning his mouth and throat as he drank it though. Ganlin coughed as he swallowed it.

“Very good. Pass the bottle back up here, and give me your hands.”

Ganlin followed the voice’s instructions, keeping his hands above him as he watched the bottle be grabbed by a hand that looked like it wasn’t there. The bottle moved up out of the hole and disappeared from sight. Ganlin thought he saw the shape again as something that felt like a hand grabbed onto his.

As they grabbed his hands, Ganlin began to see the potion’s true effect:Ganlin himself was disappearing, becoming a hard to see shape just like whoever was helping him. The voice spoke again.

“Listen very carefully to what I’m saying. Are you able to bite down on your arm and keep yourself quiet? Say yes.”

“Yes, I can.” Ganlin replied.

“Good, do that. Now.” Ganlin followed the shape’s instructions as they kept speaking.

“I’m going to release you from your chains, but it may hurt, so bite down hard and stay as quiet as you can. After I get you out of those, keep holding onto my hand and together we’ll lift you out. Once you’re up here, hold onto my hand and just follow where it pulls you. Now, you better be biting down because those chains are going to be coming off soon.” As the voice finished speaking, Ganlin felt his wrists getting rapidly warmer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ganlin looked at his hands, or rather where they were supposed to be, and saw the manacles around his hands starting to glow a deep orange colour as the metal itself started to heat. Ganlin bit down as they became even hotter, burning his wrists as he watched the manacles keeping his hands together turn from orange to red as they became liquid. The melted manacles slipped off Ganlin’s wrists and fell into the pool of water, where they hissed like snakes as steam rose up.

“Quickly, now!” Said the voice. “Get up here.”

Ganlin followed the voice's instructions and lifted himself out of the pit. Behind him, the shape moved the wood back over the hole.

“Alright. Stay quiet, and come with me.”

-End of Chapter 9-

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[the-northkingdoms]

Chapter 6

The dream started the same as it always did: with Ganlin standing in the burning skal as wind raged all around him. The undead Ragnov striding forward to attack. Ganlin fought him, as always, and as always, he was disarmed, losing both weapon and hand. Ragnov swung down with his massive, ghastly blade. Ganlin closed his eyes, ready to be transported to the strange hallway again, but still nervous that he wouldn’t be, and that this time Ragnov would finally swing into him.

Seconds passed, and Ganlin could still hear the raging winds, yet Ragnov still hadn’t hit him. Opening his eyes, Ganlin saw that he was still in the skal, and Ragnov’s sword had stopped less than an inch from Ganlin’s face.

Ragnov’s undead body was shaking, as if he was somehow locked in position, a mere fraction of a moment away from killing Ganlin.

Ganlin was taken over by confusion as he stared up at the petrified Ragnov.

Your weapon. Grab it.

The words blew into Ganlin’s mind, as if the words were carried by the wind itself.

“What?” He looked all around himself, and saw no one.

Grab your weapon.

Ganlin saw his spirxe, laying on the ground a few body lengths away. Ducking out from under Ragnov’s weapon, Ganlin walked over and picked it up, his right hand at some point having reattached itself to his arm.

“What is this? Why has the dream changed?” He asked the wind, giving his weapon a few practice swings to make sure his new hand wouldn’t disappear again. The voice came into his head again.

This is no mere dream. It is a test.

With those words, Ragnov was released from whatever strange phenomenon had been holding him, and he gave a guttural yawp as he ran towards Ganlin.

Now fight.

Ragnov swung and Ganlin leaped down and away from the blade, keeping himself out of the weapon’s reach.

“A test? What kind of test?” Ganlin asked, desperately eager to discover the reasons behind the recurring nightmare. “Who are you?”

Ragnov swung again, and again Ganlin ducked out of the way as the disembodied voice answered.

I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that. I must know if you are what I think you are first. I hope you can understand.

As Ragnov reached the full arc of his swing, Ganlin stepped forward and swung his spirxe at Ragnov’s wrist. Ragnov stepped out of the way, but Ganlin managed to leave a shallow cut along the wrist anyway.

“Who do you think I am? Is this nightmare your doing?”

I’m not sure who you are yet. Someone strange, someone important. It is difficult to read the words of Fate. As for your second question, not entirely, and not intentionally. This is your nightmare, I merely unintentionally fell into it.

“Fell into it? How does one fall into a nightmare?” Somehow being distracted by the conversation allowed Ganlin to focus more on the fight, and he was able to fend off Ragnov’s attacks, and even score some hits on the undead bandit.

I’ve only seen you briefly in our meetings, but you are Ank’haran, correct? I am what your people call a wizard. Magic is fickle, warrior, and while practicing, I stumbled into your consciousness.

Ganlin’s blood ran cold at the thought of a wizard that could somehow come into his dreams.

“You stumbled across me, and now you use your magics to meddle with my mind? Earlier, you spoke of being unable to trust me, wizard. Tell me, why should I trust you?”

Ganlin and Ragnov were fighting alongside the edge of one of the skal’s burning buildings, now. Suddenly, the building crumbled, a large, flaming part of it coming down towards him.

I suppose there isn’t any reason you should.

Before it could hit him, he was in the stone hallways again.

However, I can tell you that whatever is happening here, very little of it is my doing. The dream has pulled us away from each other for long enough. I am using my power now, let us finally meet, warrior.

Ganlin was standing in front of the door. He pushed it open and walked inside.

The room was the same as it was in every other dream, and the wizard was in their usual spot.

“Hello.” Ganlin said, feeling unnerved by the situation, all the hairs on his arm standing on end.

The wizard looked up at him, and took in his features as Ganlin did the same.

The wizard was old, that much was clear. Age made deep creases in their face, and their beard was mostly white, falling down to just above their waist.

“Hello to you, warrior. This sort of magic is hard to navigate, so forgive me for my straightforwardness. The magic I deal in is known as foresight, one that has been widely forgotten by most. It allows me to look forward into the future, so that I prepare for what is to come. Do not be mistaken, though. The world of foresight is an uncertain one, one that is filled with fog, making it difficult to parse out the gems of truth. All I know is that nine days ago, while searching into the future, I found you. I do not know what importance you hold, but I was drawn towards you for a reason, warrior. I must find you, so that I may get a better reading of your fate. So all I ask of you is that you journey to Ludilakir, the temple atop Ildavir, where my people reside.”

The words made Ganlin’s body somehow feel more real, more connected to the material of the world than he ever had been, but the strangeness of it all still sent shivers down his spine.

“I cannot. I am not in control of my movement, wizard. I am imprisoned, and I doubt I shall be released.”

The wizard’s eyes narrowed.

“Imprisoned you say? Where then? I shall do what I can to release you. Either way, you shall come here to Ludilakir, it has been foretold, that fact is present in this strange dream we find ourselves in. Where are you? I shall do what I can to find you.”

Ganlin was unnerved by the overbearing presence of the wizard, and their words of unavoidable fate were even worse, but at the mention of freedom, Ganlin could not resist.

“Silvirtharn. I am in Silvirtharn.”

The wizard seemed confused by that at first, but nodded.

“Very well then. I shall do what I can. Goodbye warrior, we shall see each other again in another time, when Fate deems it so.”

With that, the wizard raised both their hands, and some unseen force pushed Ganlin backwards as he felt himself become intangible, flying back through the stone. As he was hurtled back, for a split second he caught a glimpse of something; something that looked like the dunes of Ank’har, except it was entirely stone, and it stretched impossibly high into the sky. At the top stood a stone structure, obscured by the clouds.

Then it was gone, nothing but a future memory.

Ganlin woke up in the room that the Warden had rewarded him. He was covered in sweat, and the heavy blankets clung to his wet skin as he peeled them back and got up.

There was no window in the room, but Ganlin felt that it was early morning. He stared at the wall opposite him, the memories of his strange ‘dream’ making him feel uneasy. The strange wizard who had somehow found their way into Ganlin’s mind made him nervous. They claimed it was an accident, but Ganlin knew from stories that an honest wizard was rare, they almost always had plans behind plans, hidden behind a shroud of false honesty. The fact that they could somehow enter his dreams, speak to him through them, chilled Ganlin to core. Was the wizard watching him now, somehow? Could they see into his thoughts? There’s no telling a wizard can do, the elders’ stories always warned.

Ganlin stood up and stretched as someone knocked on the door, his back felt much better, reduced to a dull pain in a much smaller area.

“We’re coming in.” A voice said from the door before it opened.

A guard walked in, with the Warden behind them, and more guards behind the Warden. “I trust you enjoyed the night, Ganlin?” the Warden said in his low voice.

“Yes, Warden.” Replied Ganlin, being as subservient as he could. “I thank you for the reward.”

The Warden chuckled at that. “Truly, it’s nothing. These fine guards shall escort you back to the courtyard for the new day. Continue working as hard as you have, and I think that you shall do quite well for yourself here.” With that, the Warden turned and walked out of the room, the majority of the guards following close behind.

The remaining guards took Ganlin and led him out of the comforts of the fine room, through the prison and out into the courtyard.

After all the prisoners were chained together, Ganlin moved with the others through the portcullis and onto the ramp into the quarry.

As the group moved down the ramp, shoulder to shoulder, Ganlin felt his foot hitch on something, and he tripped. The sudden movement of his spill pulled the others he was chained to along with him, causing a reaction throughout the entire group and making it much worse. Ganlin tried to get up but quickly fell again, slipping and just barely narrowly avoiding tumbling down into the quarry.

It took a couple minutes for everything to get back under control, but after some yelling and moving around from the assorted guards, the group was back on their way into the quarry, and made it to the ground level without further incident.

As they made their way down, Ganlin thought he saw the prisoner next to him glaring before looking away from him.

Within the quarry, the day went as normal, and while nothing special was found, Ganlin felt like he was mining better than he had any other time before. His back was starting to get worse, but it was still manageable, far better than it had been before his visit with the prison doctor.

During meal time, one of the cooks carrying out meals to the prisoners tripped, causing hot broth to splash all over Ganlin’s neck and back. Ganlin kept his head down and ate his meal.

Ganlin wasn’t wise, and he knew it. He did, however, have common sense. He was no fool, he knew the incidents were almost certainly not mere accidents. One of the prisoners, or maybe a group of them, were unhappy with Ganlin earning positive attention from the Warden. Ganlin was more certain that it was a group, although he wasn’t sure who was involved. Their motivations made no sense either, why would they want to hurt him merely for earning a reward?

Ganlin looked around the dining room, trying to read into the faces of every prisoner he saw. Some looked away, cowed, others glared, some didn’t look at him at all.

After eating, he was sent off to continue rooting through random abandoned rooms deep within the prison with the other two prisoners. Ganlin found some small joy in the fact that the two prisoners he’d been clearing rooms with didn’t seem to hold any strange grudge against him for missing a single night. Ganlin went to sleep that night without any further incident.

That night, Ganlin dreamed again. The same dream, except it felt different, somehow. Ganlin couldn’t explain it, but deep in his bones he felt it. Things had changed, they were different now.

The wind still raged, but it felt more contained to Ganlin, even if there wasn’t any noticeable difference. The skal still burned, but the fires didn’t burn as brightly, and were doing less damage to the buildings. Ragnov was still present as a walking corpse, but after the last dream, he had become less of a threat to Ganlin. Previous to Ganlin’s conversation to the wizard, the fight always went the same; Ganlin would get knocked back, lose his hand, and Ragnov would attack him. Now though, it had become a true fight. Ragnov was still more powerful, but Ganlin was able to get a couple strikes in and actually wound Ragnov before Ragnov got the upper hand and swung down with a killer blow.

Transported back to the stone hallways, in front of the wooden door.

Come in, warrior.

Ganlin walked into the room where the wizard was already sat upon the small stone dais.

“Welcome. I saw your fighting, you are getting better.”

Ganlin felt a chill, he didn’t like the idea of being watched by someone he couldn’t see.

“Last night you said it took great amounts of effort to talk to me, Wizard. Yet one day later you are able to do it so easily?”

The wizard chuckled. “It seems that since I have bridged the gap between your dream and my meditation, it is much easier to use that connection. I have a feeling that we may be able to have these meetings much more often, if you would so desire.”

“I’m not quite sure I would.” Ganlin replied. “I have a question for you. My people spoke of the importance of dreams, and said they could reveal secrets of events that are yet to come. Is that true? Is that why my dream has connected itself to your magic?”

The wizard was quick to answer.

“The short answer is yes, warrior. Those of us who pursue the magic of foresight can use many avenues to peer into the future, but most of us first learn how by using our dreams. Of course, not all dreams mean anything. In fact, most of them don’t, it’s important to keep that in mind. However, there are some dreams that do indeed contain glimpses into what the future holds, even for those that do not hold magic.”

Ganlin thought about the contents of his dream and quickly asked; “Does that mean that my dream is one of those dreams? If it was able to connect to your magic, then that must mean the two of them were similar in some form, right?”

The wizard smiled. “For someone with no training in magic, your logic concerning it is quite good. Yes, I would say it is most likely that your dream has some traces of the magic of foresight of it. How much of it is foresight and how much of it is mere fancy is unknowable. Perhaps all of it will pass, exactly as you envisioned it, or perhaps only certain parts of it will be true. Maybe it will all happen, but not all at once like your dream shows it to be. Dreams and magic are fickle things alike, warrior. I cannot properly read any signs that your dreams may provide, as those are meant for you, not me.”

Ganlin’s head hurt from listening to the wizard. Ganlin was a fighter, the idea of his dreams sometimes being warnings and other times meaning nothing was a frustrating one. Why couldn’t it just be one or the other? Why must there be so many half meanings? Ganlin disliked magic being filled with so many half-truths, making dishonesty a natural part of it.

“It can be a more than frustrating experience, I know. Alas, that is simply the way of magic.” The wizard continued on, filling the silence left by their own words.

Ganlin finally responded, a question on his mind. “Why did you bring me back here? This dream feels meaningless, wizard.”

“There are two reasons, warrior, one for my own reasons, and one that is beneficial to you. For my own ends, something about you caused my magic to draw us together, and I am eager to know what that reason is. Things like this don’t happen for no reason, we are supposed to meet, and you are supposed to do something, I don’t know what though. As for you, this connection between us allows you some small control over your dream, as you may or may not have noticed. That is why you are able to fight for longer in it compared to before. Now, rather than the dream deciding when you lose, you can fight for as long as you are able, making you more prepared for if that part of your dream comes to pass.”

Ganlin considered the implications of that. “Does it transfer over? If I fight in the dream, will my real body become stronger as well?”

The wizard stroked their beard, their gnarled fingers combing through the greying facial hair.

“To a degree, it is possible, yes. I know of some peers who have been able to study texts and practice certain skills through trying to control their dream. More often than not, it is a mostly negligible improvement. You may become slightly stronger.”

Ganlin felt a certain spark of excitement within him. He had found a way to train, even while he was imprisoned at Silvirtharn.

“Even a small difference is a difference. In a fight, the smallest of things can change the final outcome. Is it possible for me to go back into that part of the dream? Can I go there myself, or are you able to send me there.”

The wizard closed their eyes, face twitching as they silently did something Gankin didn’t understand.

“Walk out of this room, turn to the left. Open the twelfth door. That should take you back, and you can stay there until you awake, or until you die within the dream, whichever comes first.”

Ganlin turned towards the door, saying a simple “thank you” before heading out and walking to the door that the wizard had said.

He opened it and saw the burning Skal. Walking through he was there. Ragnov bursted out from one of the buildings.

Ganlin turned behind him and saw the door was gone. Looking down he saw his spirxe had appeared in his hands.

Determined to become stronger, Ganlin charged forward.

-End of Chapter 6-

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[the-writing-owl]

Catch-up Tag Game!

Big thanks to @space-cadead for tagging me! Point of this one is to just tag people you want to know better!

Favourite Colour: Blue! If we want to get more specific I guess I’d say navy blue. Although indigo is also very nice.

Currently Reading: Moby Dick by Herman Melville, technically. I read the first chapter like three weeks ago and just have not gotten back to it yet. The way old novels are written sometimes just makes it hard for me to get through, even if I want to read it. I’m also reading part seven of Jojo’s Bizarre adventure and that’s very good.

Last Song: Going to California by Led Zeppelin. It vibes real hard, I always just relate it to the cross country move I did when I was nine, and the cross country move I’m most likely doing soon. Shit slaps.

Last Movie: Good Will Hunting. Finally got around to watching it for the first time. I really enjoyed it, even if certain parts of the dialogue didn’t exactly age well.

Last Series: TV wise, I watched Ore Monogatari with my partner recently and it was pretty damn good. Book wise I couldn’t even tell you. I rarely ever read finished book series, much to my wallet and memory’s detriment. I guess I read all of his Dark Materials in December.

Sweet, Spicy, or Savory: This is a tough one, but I guess I would rank it as sweet is better than savory which is better than spicy?

Craving: I guess a job? Or like, just inner happiness.

Tea or Coffee: I’ve had far more coffee in my life, but in the future I’m going to try sticking to tea. Haven’t had neither in a very long time though.

Currently working on: The Northkingdoms, as always. I’m going to try and carve out some time to fully plot out To World’s End this weekend though! So that’ll be fun. Also slowly plugging away at Wicked Stories of Darkness, I’m just currently too caught up in worldbuilding for that instead of, y’know, actually writing.

Tagging: @fizzy-pops-and-writing , @writing-is-a-martial-art , @fayoftheforest , @kirsten-is-writing , @b-y-wofficial , @doriwrites , Sorry if I forgot to tag anyone, if you see this of course you can participate and consider this a tag haha.

[the-writing-owl]

Hey y’all. Chapter 10 of the Northkingdoms is out now

I’d really appreciate if you guys checked it out! I’m really happy with how this one turned out, and I think the story is really picking up now! Also sorry for this blog being essentially dead before it ever really lived, I’m going to try and be more active on it, life can just be really busy is all.

[the-northkingdoms]

Introductions!

Hi guys! I'm Noah, and this tumblr is what I'm going to be using to post the story I'm currently calling The NorthKingdoms. I suppose you could call it a webseries, but to me a webseries is done in a video format, and obviously this isn't a video format, and this whole thing I'm doing is at least partially inspired by the original Conan stories by R.E.H. so if I had any say in the matter I'd more qualify this as like, a serial, or a webpulp or something. I don't know.

Anyways I'm planning on updating this every week, and I'm aiming for each chapter to be at least 3k words, so we'll see how that goes.

As I said, this was inspired partially be Conan, so expect a lot of sword and sorcery vibes. I'll be getting a header and profile pic soon.

Chapter one is already out, so read that and if you like what I'm doing, I would really appreciate it if you dropped a heart and followed. Chapter two will be coming on Monday next week.

-N.H.B.

[the-writing-owl]

Chapter 8 of my series on my other account is out! Take a look at that if you want

Sorry for like saying absolutely nothing here! I’m bad at social media and I’ve been a pretty busy bee so it’s been hard to find time!