The Orion Chronicle (Fantasy)

[Virus]

(( I'm aware that I've posted this before, but it's gone through alot of editing (and probably will go through alot more by the time im finished) so I figured it would be easiest to just post it again. Im finally done with school, and a friend of mine reminded me about this story and rekindled my interest. So. Here it comes, a fresh version of "The Three", posted in chapters just like last time. Any and all criticism is very much appreciated I am well aware that I am terrible at picking names for... everything. ))

One

Faeron awoke with the sun, as he did every morning. He lived on a farm with his father and two brothers, about five miles from Eigo, his village. His dark brown hair was just long enough to cover his pointed elven ears. He lay still for another fifteen minutes before getting out of his bed and pulling on a shirt.

Every day for the past three years, Faeron had been training at Eigo’s academy. The “Academy”, as it had come to be called over the years, was Eigo’s intense military school. Of all of the villages in the area, Eigo held by far the strongest military. Faeron was the quickest, brightest and strongest student by far that had attended for many years. Even as he was being trained, he was climbing the ranks in the… perhaps military would be the right term. No other student had ever been officially offered an officer rank before graduating the academy, yet Faeron showed skill that could not help but be noticed.

There was a mission today, and as always, he was selected as team leader. His group consisted of the other top seven students in the academy.

Academy students… not ideal but they will have to due. I wonder what our assignment will be.

Faeron entered the small room that he had been summoned to countless times. He looked around to see hundreds of books lining the walls, and an elderly man sitting at a desk, staring at a pile of paperwork that Faeron was not envious of. After a few minutes, the man looked up, acknowledged Faeron, and proceeded to file the papers away, paying next to no attention to him. Faeron had been through the routine before, and patiently waited to be briefed. The man situated himself, took a long quaff of what appeared to be hot tea, and proceeded to give Faeron the details of his assignment.

“Faeron. We have received a tip off that a roving group of bandits has been causing trouble in the neighboring villages. So far they have attacked two villages: Tel Mucus and Kotoba. They are expected to strike Ohayo next. That is where we recommend you start. As always, be careful.” Faeron committed everything he was told to memory before turning to leave the room.

Another milk run… why do they continue to give me these novice assignments?

He relayed the mission to his comrades, and they began making preparations to leave. Faeron trudged back to his house. It was a very small, two room residence that was very scantily decorated and furnished. His entire family was of a military background, and they kept only what they needed to live in their house, as none of them ever spent more than a few days home at a time. The higher ranking officers were kind enough to schedule their leave at the same time so that they could see each other, at least briefly.

Faeron changed into his navy blue leather uniform, and took his two swords off of the weapon rack that his father had built in the main room of their house. The swords were passed down to him from his father. They were thinner than most swords, but impossible to break. Ever since they were given to him, a few months shy of five years earlier, he had never sharpened them and according to his father, in the thirty years he had possession of them, they had never worn down. He packed a small haversack with food and supplies that would be needed for the journey, slung it over his back to accompany his swords, and headed out the door.

By the time Faeron reached the village gates, the rest of his group were ready to leave. It was a full day’s journey so, without wasting any more time, he led the way to Ohayo, the closest of Eigo’s ally villages.
“ Keep your eyes out for the usual. You know the drill.”, he instructed his men, “I want two runners scouting, one on each side of the path”.

They trudged on down the path. One of the scouts brought back news of a farm that had been burnt to the ground. The farmers who tended it had been killed and burned along with the building. After a short while, they came across a heavy concentration of fresh tracks.

“At least we know we’re going the right way.” One of the students remarked.

As they closed the distance between themselves and the village, Faeron ordered more scouts out ahead of them. When they reached Ohayo, it was evident that it had already been attacked. The smell of death was in the air, and a few men could be seen burying the dead.

Faeron strode up to one of the men and said “My name’s Faeron… I was dispatched from Eigo. What happened here?”

The man refused to look at Faeron, and he could tell by the shaking of his shoulders that he was crying, though no sound was heard. He gave his report in a true emotionless military manner.

“We were sleeping when they came. If they were just bandits we would have had no problem defending ourselves, even with a disadvantage. They were dressed as bandits, common thieves, but there was a monster of a man leading them. He must have been eight feet tall. They swept through and took everything. Anyone who stood up to them was killed. It was all over in a matter of minutes. After they got what they wanted they…” here he paused and very audibly sobbed. He eventually subsided and continued in a much less professional way “…they burned all the buildings. They locked many of the men inside ole’ Maron’s house and torched it. My brother was in there.”

Faeron didn’t know what to say. He was trained in combat, not in consolation. He could no longer stand watching the man cry.

“Which way did they go?” he asked as the man bawled.

No words came, but the man’s hand rose and a single finger pointed down the road that Faeron and the others had just come from.

“No… are you sure? We just came from there.” The man nodded, and again pointed down the road.

Faeron yelled at his men “Hurry! They’re headed back towards Eigo! We have to get there before them!” They ran full speed down the road and didn’t stop until the village was in sight. It was lit ablaze. The academy students walked aimlessly around the village, but Faeron didn’t even stop, he kept running, all the way to his house.

He got there just as the massive leader of the bandits threw a torch onto his home. He saw the limp bodies of his father and brothers being dragged towards the burning house, and drew his weapons. Every bandit that stood in his way was cut down in an instant, but he was too late. They were already dead and burning. The bandit leader laughed as he watched the house go up in flames. Faeron charged at him, whirling his blades and jumping to stab the murderer. Faeron didn’t even see the movement, but he found his swords locked with the bandit’s. He pulled back and attacked with all of his strength, but every blow he tried to land was easily deflected by the bandit. His blades searched frantically for a hit, but none was found.

This man was clearly a master, and knew it. Faeron was beginning to feel the fatigue of running a full day’s journey in a matter of hours. His movements slowed, and eventually he was too exhausted to move. He panted for breath, kneeling on the ground in front of the bandit leader. The massive man sheathed his weapon and crouched down in front of Faeron. Tears ran freely down Faeron’s face as he whispered into his ear words that he would never forget.

“You fought with passion that I have never seen. Even though you are weak, you will grow stronger every day. For this reason, I let you live.” And with that, the bandit’s fist filled his vision, and he was knocked unconscious…

[Virus]

Two

“Mara tuilë Anyaraa.” Good morning Anyaraa.

Anyaraa lived in Eldemar, the city of the elves. It had once been a thriving city that everyone on the mainland held in high regard, and respected to be one of the most powerful cities in exsistance. But ever since the disappearance of their elf lord, Eldemar was forced into hiding. Enchantments were placed over it to prevent anyone from finding it, and it was slowly forgotten by the mainlanders—to them, Eldemar, along with the elves, had become nothing more than a bedtime story.

Although Eldemar was no longer recognized by the outside world to be of any significance, it was. Its council had stepped up its game since the elf Lord’s disappearance, and Eldemar was maintaining itself wonderfully.

Anyaraa was the only daughter of some very important individuals. Her parents both held seats in Eldemar’s council, a high branch of their government second only to the Lord of the elves, who had not been seen in many hundreds of years. Anyaraa had always dreamed of going to the mainland, but Eldemar was a hidden country, and the council rarely granted the permission needed to leave.

“Mara tuilë Naneth” Good morning Mother

“I must go to a meeting again. Your father is already there, we will be back as soon as we can. Namárië” Farewell.

“Namárië”

Anyaraa’s mother was not aware that the meeting she was called to was concerning her daughter. She had requested many times that she be allowed to go to the mainland, and the council until recently had done everything they could to prevent any elves leaving Eldemar. But today, the council had received a summons. There was great need for an elf to be present. The elves have always been known to have knowledge beyond any mortal’s understanding. They had the gift of foresight. The council had seen that, without intervention, something terrible would happen that, soon, even the elves would not be able to stop.

As Anyaraa went about her daily routine of study and archery practice, an elf child walked up to her and tugged on her pant leg. She looked down and smiled. “What is it young one?”

“The elders want you to come to the council chamber. They sounded pretty serious!”

Anyaraa was surprised, but thanked the child none the less. She set her bow down after loosing one more arrow (another bulls-eye, she rarely missed) and walked towards the dome shaped building. The last time she had been called to the council was when she was very young. It was a rare occasion indeed to be summoned. She approached the room. As the door opened, she saw six very important looking elves. She walked into the middle of the room and waited to be addressed.

A very old elf with white hair spoke. “Anyaraa, we have received a summons. An elf presence is required on the mainland and…” Even as he spoke, Anyaraa knew what was coming, a broad smile crossed her lips, and she couldn’t help standing a bit taller.

“Do you accept our offer, and verify that you have not been swayed in any way by others to accept or decline?”

“I willingly accept!” Anyaraa spat out almost before his last word was out of his mouth.

“Very well. You will leave in the morning, pack your belongings and be ready when the sun passes the horizon.”

Anyaraa sped out the door and hurried straight to her house. It was a large, very impressive building, crafted between some of the largest trees in Eldemar. It was elaborately decorated, and quite a sight to behold, yet to Anyaraa it felt… empty.

As she rushed in the door, she immediately began packing everything she could think that she would need: clothes, tools, blankets, her bow and short elven sword, and various other items.

Finally, after hours of running back and forth from room to room, she was certain that she was ready to leave. She could finally get some sleep. She walked to her bed, disregarding the fact that she hadn’t changed out of her clothes, and went to sleep.
***

Anyaraa’s eyes snapped open. It was still dark, but something was not right. She could faintly hear the sounds of clashing swords. Her bow was in her hand in an instant, and she was out the door, moving swiftly and silently toward the noise. It was coming from the docks.

As she approached, she saw three elves trying to fend off one hooded figure who was apparently trying to reach the boat. Anyaraa watched closer, she could tell that the stranger could easily have defeated the other three, if it had wanted to kill them. She loosened her grip on her bow, strung it across her back, and pulled her short sword from her side.

As elves go, Anyaraa was an exceptional fighter. She was fast, and very accurate. She positioned herself to attack the intruder, who had still not noticed her presence. She moved to strike, and her blade met with his. They danced around in a flurry of steel, neither landing a blow. Then, with the grace only achievable by an elf, Anyaraa ended the fight. She sidestepped around him closely, so that it looked as if she was rolling across him. Her blade appeared at his throat.

“Be still, your life depends on it” she commanded. Others slowly trickled out of their homes, curious to find out what had happened. As they approached the docks, the stranger pushed Anyaraa away, jumped into the sea, and was carried away by the waves.

Anyaraa relayed all that had happened to her comrades, and it was decided that they should leave at once. The crew boarded the vessel and headed for the mainland.

***

Anyaraa…

Anyaraa! Awake!

Anyaraa’s eyes opened. The cabin was dark, and the sounds of the waves rhythmically slapping the hull almost lulled her back to sleep. Nobody was in the room, and elves could see even on the darkest of nights. She stepped out of the cabin, but not before tying her sword around her waist. Her eyes surveyed the empty deck. Something was out of place; something just wasn’t…right. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and her sword was unsheathed, flying towards it.

Thud

The sword made contact with the ship’s main mast. Anyaraa pulled her sword free of the wood. A small piece of black cloth was nestled in the indent it made. Someone was on board. She turned and found herself face to face with a hooded figure. In its hand was a short, blackened sword. The next second, another figure matching the other’s description jumped from the rigging and landed next to the first. They advanced on Anyaraa. Blade met blade as Anyaraa frantically tried to fend off the two exceptional swordsmen. She ducked, and a sword whistled overhead. She took the opening as a gift, and plunged her sword into the robes. The other figure swung once more at Anyaraa, and she dodged the blade, her sword came free of its last victim almost too easily. It swung again. This time she parried the blow, and her arm almost gave out under the ferocity of the strike.

This one is stronger…

The stranger swung harder and faster, pushing Anyaraa towards the ship’s side, and eventually disarmed her. The robed figure raised its sword and swung. An arrow intercepted his hand, and pinned it to the side of the ship. The figure looked around to see at least ten bows drawn, pointed straight at it. Before anyone could react, the robed figure snapped the offending arrow in half, grabbed his partner, and jumped over the ship’s edge. Anyaraa watched them hit the sea, and waited several seconds before sheathing her blade.

“Ma’am, are you hurt?” asked the elf who had shot the stranger’s hand.

Anyaraa didn’t answer, still looking into the water.

“Ma’am?”

She turned, her face like stone, and said “Oh, no I’m fine, thank you.” and walked back to her cabin…

[Virus]

Three

Sam Bramer sat in the corner of a pub. He was a bounty hunter, and preferred to keep his back to a wall when he could. He wore a brown leather coat lined with an assortment of daggers and poisons, and a matching brown hat that kept his face half concealed.

His hand rose slightly and a barmaid came over. He ordered another drink, which was set down with the numerous others on the table he had not touched. The pub required people to order something every hour to be allowed to stay- a good business ploy.

Sam watched many people go by, none fitting the description given to him. He was looking for an abnormally tall man that carried a dark wood staff with him and had a black tattoo on one of his wrists. So far, the only people of interest he had seen were the barmaid and the short fat man that picked a fight with another customer. They had both tasted one too many drinks.

The door opened once more as another customer entered. A distinct tapping sound with every other footstep, and the appearance of a very tall, thin man brought a slight smile to Sam’s face. The newcomer wore a dark colored robe, that was matched his hair perfectly. He walked up to the bar and put down a large sum of cash. Sam’s trained eyes caught a dark spot on the man’s wrist as he set down his payment.

There was no mistaking it, this was his target. Sam stood, pulled out four knives that lined the inside of his jacked and threw them in rapid succession at the tall man.

Thunk Thunk Thunk

Three knives stuck into the staff that the tall man had moved in the way of the deadly weapons. Sam walked slowly over and smirked. One had obviously hit. But as the tall man turned to face him, the fourth knife’s blade was caught between his middle and index fingers. He let the blade drop to the floor.

Sam was unsure now, trying to figure out what happened. The tall man raised his hand so that his palm was facing towards the bounty hunter.

“Just out of curiosity, how much are they offering for me these days?” asked the man. Sam was shaking visibly now, and couldn’t bring himself to answer the question.

The tall man sighed, then as if acknowledging someone, inclined his head toward Sam. “Very well, I really am sorry about this but you’ll follow me if I don’t do it.” A flash of light filled the room, and a body, formerly Sam Bramer, lay on the ground with a small hole through his middle.

Without so much as a second glance, the tall man approached the bar and said “Elderberry wine please.”

***

Xar had been running from bounty hunters for a long time…
The Magi were once a large group of people, who used their magic to better their land. But one of the Magi was not content with healing and helping others. He grew bored of the same old spells and incantations, the same patterns of magic weaving; he wanted a new challenge. This Magi delved into the arts of dark magic, which only had one purpose- to cause as much pain and suffering as possible. For a time this Magi kept his secret well secured, but by chance one of the oldest and wisest Magi interrupted one of his private sessions. The Magi panicked and killed the old man. The sound of the body hitting the floor drew the other Magi, and the Dark One (for that is the only name we know him by) started casting curses and throwing fiery balls of destruction everywhere. The Magi tried to put up a fight, but they were not accustomed to this kind of violence. They were all destroyed. All, that is, except one- Xar.

Since that time, Xar devoted himself to learning every possible way of using magic, from the smallest, insignificant food summoning technique, to healing fatal wounds, to dark magic that far surpassed that of his enemy. They were destined to do battle, and Xar was certain he would win. The only problem is, with all the bounty hunters distracting him, he could not find any leads to where the Dark One might be hiding.

He had received no leads until very recently. He heard word that a convoy was being sent, for the first time in well over a hundred years, from Eldemar, the hidden city of the elves. As he thought of this, Xar reached under his long black hair and touched the pointed tips of his ears. Maybe the elves would have answers for him. He could only hope.

[Virus]

Four

My…my head hurts. Can you hear me? My head…

“…hurts.”

The woman, no, girl, turned around and smiled at him. “What was that you said mister?”

Faeron had no idea where he was. He was comfortable, except for the throbbing pain he felt inside his skull. The kind looking girl was the only thing of interest in the small room. No decorations could be seen, and the only furniture was the cot that he now realized he was laying on. A slingshot was hung at the young girl’s side and in her hand she held two squirrels. There was a window. All he could see through it were branches of trees.

“My head…” he said.

The girl nodded, and took a long piece of cloth from a pouch hanging opposite her sling. She walked over to him, and reached towards his head. He felt a small tug, and watched as a bloodstained bandage was removed from his head. The girl proceeded to redress his wound.

“There you are, you should close your eyes for now, i'll be back with some water for you.” With that, the girl reached towards the floor and pulled open a trap door that he had not seen. Recognition dawned on him.

A tree house… I must be in a tree house.

He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain ran down his neck, and he collapsed. He pondered his situation. There was no way he could escape in this condition. He didn’t even know if there was anything to escape from. The girl seemed nice enough, and had treated him very well.

How did I get here?!

Only then did he recall the incident at the village. He was filled with rage. He tried to sit up again, but with the same outcome. He decided to follow the girl’s advice and close his eyes. He lost himself in a dream. He was back in his village, enjoying his brother’s company. Suddenly his brother turned into a huge man who had fire pouring out of his mouth and ears. He saw himself being knocked out repeatedly. Then he saw the village. Fire, burning, death, scream, fighting, burning, fighting, dying, screaming, blood, blood, blood, brother, father, dead, all dead, burning, fire, bandit, dead…

Faeron’s eyes snapped open. He was still in the small room. He was sweating hard from the nightmare he had just experienced. It all seemed so real to him. The girl was on the sitting cross-legged on the floor and eating something that smelled delicious.

“Please, may I have some food and water?” Faeron whispered. The girl looked up from her meal.

“Yes yes of course” she said, grabbing another dish that was already prepared. Faeron didn’t know what it was, but he was grateful for any kind of food. He wolfed down the soupy stuff and asked for seconds. For the first time the girl’s smile disappeared, to be replaced by a sad, blank stare.

“I’m sorry, that was all I had left, ill have to go hunting again tomorrow, the birds are becoming more and more scarce, I had to resort to squirrel.”

Faeron felt a pang of guilt rush through him. He had robbed a struggling girl of her last provisions. As soon as he had avenged his family, he decided, he would return and help her.

“Thank you so much for all you have done. The pain is gone now,” he lied, “and I must be on my way.”

The girl did not inquire further, but helped him get out of the cot and down the ladder to the ground. She looked sad, but at the same time relieved. Faeron had never met anyone as compassionate as this young girl. He would remember her. He thanked her again and said his goodbyes. A long road lay ahead of him, and he had a bandit to kill.

***
Faeron trudged down the path toward Tel Aun. It was a sea port, and he was bound to find information there. It would take him days to get there at this pace. He put the thought out of his mind and lumbered feebly onward. He heard a branch break overhead. Standing still as stone, he waited. Nothing happened. He took another step, and felt a damp breeze on his neck. Fear grabbed him as he turned to face a hooded figure (one of the same hooded figures, you might recall, a certain elf had met) His blades were drawn in an instant, but the figure was gone. He dismissed it as an illusion, and walked on down the path.

***
It soon became dark, and Faeron had no choice but to stop and camp for the night. There was no point in chancing wandering off the trail and getting lost. He soon had a small fire going. He pulled out his water cask and took a small swig. In the reflection of his canteen, he saw it. This was no illusion. The same figure was creeping toward him. Faeron made no movement. He allowed his assailant to close the distance on him, and at the last second, as the figure raised its hand to strike, Faeron supported himself on his hands, and spun quickly around, kicking the legs out from under the figure. He made to grab at the figures hood, and it head butted his hand. The move was surprisingly effective, and the figure was able to disappear off into the night. It had evaded him twice now. If it returned, he promised himself, it would not be so lucky.

Morning came quickly, and Faeron had not slept. He put out the fire and started walking. Within a few hours, Faeron sighted the ocean. Now all that was left was to follow it north until he reached Tel Aun.

[Virus]

Sorry, been having some internet issues. I'll post the rest later.