Ganlin of Ank'har

A weekly story about Ganlin Hardell of Ank'har and his adventures in the fourteen Northkingdoms. I follow/interact from my main blog TheWritingOwl!

[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-writing-owl]

An(other) Update

Aw jeez, gang. How long has it been?

Hope you’re all doing well, and I of course just want to apologize for the fact that I have been gone for so long yet again. Life’s been busy, and I haven’t really had the time to write anything that wasn’t school related.

However, school is calming down a little bit, so I’m hopefully going to have some time to work on some stuff. As such, I have decided that in an attempt to hold myself accountable on the projects I’m working on. So yeah, there’s that.

Project 1 (Novella, First Draft): 1,223 words.

Project 2 (Novel/Novella, First Draft): 488 words.

Project 3 (Screenplay, First Draft): 971 words.

Project 4 (Screenplay,): First Draft.

So yeah, there’s that. Gonna do an update of this post every week on Wednesdays hopefully, that way I can keep track of my work. Talk to y’all soon :)

[the-northkingdoms]

Hey,

Not to like, jinx myself or anything but I'm writing again. :)

New chapter should be dropping before the month is out.

[the-northkingdoms]

Aw Jeeze, an Update!!

Hi there gang! Wow, it really has been like two and a half months since the last chapter came out, hasn't it?

I'm sorry for leaving you all in the lurch like that. Life has been and is really busy right now and I've had a lot of stressful things going on! Which makes it hard to find time to write!

I'm just writing this to let you guys know that I'm working on chapter 13, and the way that I'm going to handle chapters from here on out is essentially that I'm just going to write them whenever I can, and then they're going to come out a couple days after I edit them. I'm not even going to worry about word count too much. Usually I get around 3k words, but right now I'm going to just write until it feels like I hit a natural stopping point for that chapter, and I'm also gonna be posting them on whatever day of the week it ends up being, rather than the usual Monday. This will be the schedule at least until I catch up to where we're supposed to be (which might be quite a while, I'm supposed to be posting chapter 22 today) at which point I will reassess and decide if I'm in a good enough place to switch back to the original schedule.

Thank you all for the support, I really appreciate it, and I will hopefully be seeing you guys soon for chapter 13!

-NHB

[the-northkingdoms]

Chapter 1

Ganlin Hardell had traveled across the desert of Ank’har, and he could feel the air become colder as a breeze blew across him from the North. The journey North had taken him close to a month, but sure enough, the soft sands had given way to hard rock, which gave way to dirt and grass, and Ganlin was close to being in what he thought counted as the territory of Sitar, one of the fourteen North-Kingdoms. It was a hard journey across the deserts of his homeland, but Ganlin was sure that the trek would be worth it. His homeland was growing weak, but he would travel through Sitar and the other thirteen North-Kingdoms, which were all known for their great warriors, and he would learn from them and become strong, and make his country strong again in turn. Ank’har was growing weak, with enemies on all sides, and Ganlin felt he would be able to save them. He would become strong enough to challenge the First Protector, and he could teach the warriors of his people how to be strong, and the deserts would be safe from any would-be invaders.

A smile came to Ganlin’s face as he thought about it. Ever since his childhood he had dreamt of being a hero, his head filled with tales told to him in his youth. Stories like Avilar of the Seventh Dune, who single handedly had fought off the invaders from the Savannas. Or of Taradan Flamehand, who used the power he had over fire itself to create Annikiladar the Glass City. The heroes of legend were Ganlin’s inspiration; he would become powerful like them, and he would help Ank’har to become strong as he defended it against any enemies that may come.

These were the thoughts that filled the mind of Ganlin Hardell as he walked farther North with the sun slowly heading down towards the horizon. The grass getting longer, and the land becoming greener before Ganlin’s eyes. There were strange blades of grass that stood on their own and opened up at the end of them with pieces that were soft to the touch.

Eventually, Ganlin saw buildings in the distance. They were squat and wide, built into the ground like most of the houses in Ank’har. They had a different colour to them, however; where the buildings of Ganlin’s homeland were made of light stone, these houses were crafted out of some dark material. Ganlin thought maybe it was the dirt itself, cleared of grass and stacked on itself. Curious, and eager to find a place to rest, Ganlin approached the village.

By the time Ganlin reached the village, a small crowd had gathered, staring at him. Ganlin tried to not feel put off by the attention, and walked with his back straight and his head held high.

They’re staring because you’re different, embrace it. Nobody here recognizes you. He thought to himself as he strode towards the group. Ganlin consciously tried to keep his hand away from the spirxe attached to his belt. He didn’t want them to think he was looking for violence, after all.

Ganlin stopped at the edge of town, a short distance away from the villagers. One of them, tall with dark, cropped hair and a short beard, walked up to him and stared him in the eye, only a little bit shorter than Ganlin.

“Hello Ank’haran,” they said, with a strange lilt to their voice, however slight. “What brings you to Cardeim?”

“Nothing but the need for a good place to rest my head, Nildari.” Using an Ank’hari term for farmers. “Would any of you be capable of lending me a place to rest? I already have my own food; you would need to give me none.”

The Northerner looked back to the group behind them, seeming to have a silent conversation with the other people, then looked back to Ganlin and gestured to the largest building.

“You can rest in the mainhouse tonight, Ank’haran. You can have your pick of the empty cots. And we’ve been having a bad harvest, so you better have your own food, for your own sake. I suggest you be on your way soon as you can tomorrow as well, this town has had its fill of strangers.” The villager walked back to the group behind them and spoke to them in a low voice. Ganlin took the dismissal for what it was and walked towards the large building near the middle of the village. The building was made out of overlapping plates of a strange material that was dark and grainy with a rough, bumpy texture. It was almost like hardened sand, but it somehow rougher to the touch. Running his hand up the material, Ganlin felt a sharp pain and pulled back, hissing through his teeth. Looking at his hand he saw there was a piece of the building sticking into his hand, stuck under his skin. Who made a building where it would hurt you when you touched it? Was this some sort of defense tactic used by the Northerners? Fortify their villages and cities by using a material that would actively harm any who touched it?

“Give yourself a splinter, eh?” Said a soft voice from behind.

Ganlin turned around to see one of the villagers, around his age, staring at him. Their hair was a few shades lighter than black, a brown that matched the colour of the sand dunes of Ank’har at night.

“A splinter?” He asked.

“A splinter, in your hand. From the wood?” The villager walked up to him and reached for his hand. Ganlin hesitated, but gave it to them; the splinter was in his left hand, it wouldn’t impede his ability to use his weapon if the need presented itself.

“Is that what this is called? ‘Wood’?” He asked as the villager took his hand.

“Wood, form the trees? Do you not have any trees in Ank’har? Oh, where are my manners? My name is Madelna, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Madelna, not too far from the traditional female Ank’haran name Madelina. Madelna looked up at Ganlin as she said that, and he noticed her eyes were the colour of the sky, a colour he’d never seen in anyone’s eyes before.

“A tree?” Ganlin asked. “I’ve never heard such a thing, although the word does sound familiar.” He searched his mind, thinking about the stories the ancestors told to try and come up with a mental image for a tree. “It is like tall grass, yes?”

Madelna laughed. “That’s one way to describe it, I guess. I’d say it’s much more like a tall bush. Do you have bushes in the deserts?”

“Yes, we do. They do not give us ‘splinters’ though, they are harmless, unless the leaves are poisoned, of course.”

“Ah, our bushes here are also mostly harmless.” She stopped looking at his hand, letting go of it. “Don’t worry about the splinter, it should come out in a few days. Why do you have such a strange axe with you, if you don’t mind me asking? Are you a warrior? Can you fight with it?”

“An axe?” Ganlin followed her gaze to the spirxe at his belt. “Is that what you call it? I am a warrior, yes, and I can kill with it, if I need to.”

Madelna looked to him, hope brimming in her eyes as he lowered her voice to a whisper and led him inside the village’s mainhouse.

“Do you think you could help us, Ganlin? Our Clenfather, Noldar, who you spoke with, is too proud to admit it, but we need help, desperately so. Our skla has been harassed by bandits for almost a full mooncycle now, and we are growing weak. We no longer have crops to feed ourselves, as they all go to them. Any messenger we’ve tried to send to another Skla has been intercepted. We are powerless, stranger, and we need your help.”

Ganlin stood in the doorway of the mainhouse, looking at the woman in front of him.

“Do you know how many of them there are?”

Madelna stood silent for a moment, then answered. “I’m not entirely sure, the largest group of them that’s come into town was six, but there may be a few more. No more than ten though, I think.”

Ganlin’s gut twisted. Ten men? Northmen, no less. The warriors of the North-Kingdoms were known for their terrible ferocity in battle. It was said that when enraged, they could easily kill twenty men, and this woman was asking him to fight ten of them? It sounded like suicide. Even though it pained him, he wouldn’t be able to help this village, or skla, as they called it. If he tried, it would almost certainly be the end of him, and then he would be unable to help his country.

“Maiden Madelna, I must-”

“Please. On my honour and on my blood,” She cut him off, a slight tremble to her lip. “Help us.”

Ganlin’s next words died in his throat as she said those words. His spine tingled as oaths stirred in his mind. He reached for his spirxe.

“I do not think you know what you have enacted, maiden, but still, I must follow the codes of my people. As a warrior of Ank’hara, I cannot deny a formal plea, such as the one you just made.” Ganlin unhooked his spirxe, then held out the handle towards Madelna, his left hand gripping the blade.

“If you are serious about wanting my help, then grab it, or you dishonour us both.”

As Madelna grabbed the haft with a shaking hand, Ganlin pulled his hand across the blade, cutting it open. Madelna’s eyes widened in shock. Before she could drop the spirxe, Ganlin took it from her hand, then pressed the flat of the blade first against his chest over his heart, then over his forehead as he spoke the oath etched into his mind since he first began training as a warrior.

“By the Ancient Codes of Ank’har, I am forbidden from denying the plea of one who has never taken up a weapon.” He looked at Madelna for confirmation, and she nodded her head. He continued. “One such person, someone who has never known the taste of battle, asks for my help now, and by the Codes, I must help them. By the honor in my blood, and the blood of my fathers, I will fulfill this oath: I will drive off the bandits accosting this Skal. Usad mor honis.” He wiped the blood off his spirxe with a cloth and reattached it to his belt.

“Usad mor honis? What do those words mean?” Madelna asked.

“They are words from the ancient language of my forefather’s forefather’s. It means ‘until honor dies’. I have sworn to help you, maiden, and I will, but first I must rest. Which of these bunks may I use?”

“Right, yes. Thank you. Follow me.” Madelna led him to close to the back, where there was a collection of strange blankets on the floor. “You can sleep on this one, it’s been free for a while now.”

“Thank you. I shall rest now then, and early in the morning I will set out. You have my word.” Ganlin laid down his pack beside the blankets and began undressing for bed.

“I thank you, kind stranger, for agreeing to help us. I wish you the best of luck.” said Madelna, turning around and leaving through the door.

Ganlin finished undressing to his smallclothes and got under the blankets, which seemed to be made of some sort of strange animal skin that was incredibly soft to the touch. He laid back his head and let himself relax, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Ganlin woke up to silence. Opening his eyes, he could see it was completely dark in the mainhouse, all the torches having gone out in the night. Pulling back his blankets, he felt coldness descend upon his skin. He had only just made it into the border of the North-Kingdoms, and already things were beginning to feel colder than he’d ever felt in Ank’har. He stood up and began getting dressed into his clothes and armor. He slipped his galtor-scale armor over his shirt and tightened it at the waist. Then simple iron greaves and bracers to go over his legs and arms respectively. A simple, open-faced iron helm and finally a small shield over his left arm. Tying his spirxe to his belt, he stepped outside into the cool predawn air. He felt chilled, but as he began making his way farther North the physical activity warmed him up. The dark sky started to slowly lighten as he walked. The sky turned from an inky black to a dark shade of violet.

After about thirty minutes of walking through the plains he approached a line of strange plants that he could only assume were the trees that he had heard of from Madelna. They were tall things, entirely made of the same material that the buildings were constructed out of. Bark, was that what she called it? Growing out from the bark, like a bush, were other pieces of wood that stuck out at a downward angle from the tree, and from each of those sprouted strange green leaves that were very thin and -he discovered as he touched one- sharp. Moving quietly through the trees, which was an odd experience, as his peripheral vision was severely hampered, he heard a snapping noise, not too far off in the distance. Crouching and sneaking his way forward, Ganlin spotted the source of the sound.

There was a tall man who sat on a tree that lay flat across the ground and stared out towards the tree line. The man had a tiny piece of wood in his hands that he was snapping over and over again as he kept watch. He was tall and broad shouldered, with bright hair that went far past his shoulders. The Northman wore pieces of armor that went over his shoulders, forearms, and knees. His iron cap had a piece of metal that went down the middle, Ganlin could see behind him were the sleeping forms of other people. Ganlin counted twelve men. How was he supposed to kill twelve men? Perhaps he could kill one of them and use that to drive the others off. Would the man who was awake accept the offer of a duel? Would any of the others?

“I can tell from the way you dress that you are not from here, foreigner.” The man spoke, freezing Ganlin’s thoughts. “You realize that the armor you wear sticks out like a sore thumb with all that garish colour, it doesn’t match the landscape at all.”

Ganlin looked down at his scale shirt, realizing his folly as he noticed that indeed the bright blues and reds of the Galtor scales stood out bright and noticeable from the dark green hues of the trees and grass. Seeing he was caught, Ganlin stood up and stepped forward into the clearing.

“I am Ganlin Hardell. I must ask that you leave this place. I have sworn upon my honor that I will stop you from bothering the people of the Skal that lies just south of here. I do not know how you people of the North handle such matters, but I’m willing to duel you with the simple terms that if I win, you leave.”

The Northman cocked his head to the side, analyzing Ganlin. Then he let out a laugh. A low, gurgling sound, like he was choking on food.

“HA! You swore upon the strength of your honor, did you boy? Then let us see just how strong your honor is. Tilmar, get up and wake the others, an outlander is here running his mouth about honor.”

The man stood up to his full height, which was a full head above Ganlin, and kicked at a man sleeping on the ground behind him. Tilmar, presumably. Tilmar shot awake and looked around, and then got to waking up the others at the camp. The tall man spoke again.

“I am Ragnov Klasmer. Tell me your name, I would like to know it, if we are to fight.”

Ganlin cleared his throat, and tried to clear away any fear within him with it. It had been a long time since he had fought another warrior. “I am Ganlin Hardell. I come from Ank’har.”

Ganlin could see Ragnov’s eyebrow raise.

“You are from the West, eh? I suppose that makes sense. These two are Yulnag and Ugfin. You shall be fighting all three of us.”

Behind Ragnov two men stood up and began snapping pieces of armor into place, both were almost as tall as Ragnov himself. One had leathery skin and no helmet with black hair done up in a knot above his head. The other had no hair upon his head at all, and was almost twice as wide as either of the other two Northmen. All three men had wicked grins on their faces. Ganlin felt cold in his body that went beyond the chill in the air, but tried to keep his nerves calm as he grabbed his spirxe.

“Very well, if I must fight a tourney, then a tourney I shall fight.”

Ragnov let out a low chuckle.

“A tourney? No, Westerner. All three of us at once.”

All the warriors laughed raucously as Ganlin almost dropped his weapon in shock of that prospect.

“What? All three at once? Where is the honor in that?”

“The honor is in your strength, warrior. You swore upon your honor, your very strength itself, and so, if you show us that you are strong, and filled with honor. Then perhaps we will leave.”

Ganlin tried to stand tall.

“Very well. Are we fighting until submission then, or to the death?”

“We do not have to kill each other, Westman. Until one side is too weak to continue fighting. If that means death, then that means death. But we shall see.”

Ganlin tried to steady his breath as he realized that his body was shaking, the scales of his armor making soft tinkling noises.

“Alright. When shall we begin?”

Ragnov reached to the tree he was sitting on and grabbed a sheath. From it he drew his weapon; a long blade that was almost as long as Ganlin was tall.

“We begin now. Let us see how strong your honor is.”

Ragnov charged forward.

-End of Chapter 1-

Next Chapter->

[the-northkingdoms]

Here's a reblog of chapter 1, to make up for a lack of chapter this week and probably also next week, I have it planned out so I should hopefully be reblogging chapter 12 the day before I upload chapter 13. Enjoy gang!

[the-northkingdoms]

Small Update

15/07/21

Hey guys, just a tiny update.

First of all, thank you for the continued support. I've noticed the follower count has been ticking upward, and I really do appreciate it :) Thank you so much and please continue you to share this with other people! Any help with growing my following is super appreciated!

Second, and perhaps most importantly is that there (probably) isn't going to be a new chapter on the 19th of July, and there also might not be one on the 26th either. July has been and will continue to be a very busy month for me this year so I haven't had much time to write. Everything should be back on track for the 2nd of August. I think starting Monday I may reblog some of the chapters leading up to the next one. We'll see, I'll let you guys know.

Third, I was just wondering, how do you guys feel about when I post the chapters? Is there a time/day that works better? Let me know!

Alright that's it. Again, thank you all so much for your support, you are all really the best <3

-NHB

[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 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 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-

[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-

<-Previous Chapter

Next Chapter->

[the-northkingdoms]

CHAPTER 10

AN: Here it is, chapter 10! Thank you all so much for the continued support of this blog, I really do appreciate it more than I could ever convey. I hope you all enjoy this one!

Ganlin held on to the stranger’s hand tightly as they pulled him along, sticking to the shadows along the wall surrounding the courtyard.

Ganlin’s hairs stood on end as he was pulled along. His heart was beating so hard Ganlin was worried that a guard might hear it. The sky was clear, with all three moons high above, their lunar light shining down onto the world.

The stranger stopped, and Ganlin followed suit.

They had followed the walls up to the main gate, freedom laying on the other side. On either side of the gate were two doors, facing opposite each other, both shut. Ganlin’s heartbeat picked up as the stranger kept him in place, the waiting making him more nervous.

Eventually, a group of guards came from the main keep and walked through one of the doors. When the door closed, the stranger led Ganlin to right next to the door. A few minutes later, the door opened again, a different trio of guards coming out, all talking to each other.

Ganlin’s arm was pulled sharply as the stranger dragged him through the door before it could close, somehow evading the attention of all three of the guards.

Inside the wall, the stranger led Ganlin up a flight upstairs and to another door, this one slightly ajar. Just wide enough for someone to slip through, Ganlin thought.

The stranger pulled him along, and Ganlin shimmied through the narrow opening.

They were on the top of the wall, now, and all along it, guards stood. Each guard stood facing inwards, looking down on the courtyard to insure that no prisoner was escaping, from time to time looking over the other side of the wall, to see if anyone was approaching the prison.

The stranger led Ganlin in a straight line, waiting for guards to cross from one side of the wall to the other before moving forward.

Once they were close to one of the corners, the stranger stopped again, speaking to Ganlin in a low whisper, their voice very close to his ear.

“Do you have any experience in climbing, Ank’haran?”

Ganlin shook his head; Ank’hara was mostly sand dunes, meaning one didn’t have to climb very often, if at all. Some areas of the desert had large rocks that stood out from the sand, but Ganlin had never climbed them as he had simply never seen a reason to.

“If you’re trying to answer without speaking, Ank’haran, I can’t see it. Speak.” The stranger spoke again.

Remebering that the stranger’s strange concoction had made Ganlin’s body disappear, he spoke in as low a whisper as he could manage.

“No. I never had to before.”

The stranger said something that Ganlin thought was probably an expletive of some kind.

“Alright, well. You can’t see me, so you can’t follow my lead, but I’ll do my best to guide you before we start going down.”

The stranger moved his hand to a certain part of the wall. “I’ll climb down first, you wait a couple seconds and then start moving down as well. Start off with your left hand right where I have it now, then swing your legs over, and put your right hand here.” The stranger slid his hand down to a different part of the wall. “Then let yourself fall off the wall without letting go of it. Move your feet around a bit and you should be able to find parts of the wall that stick enough for you to place them. Maybe look before you start coming down, see if you can notice any ahead of time. Then move your hands as far down as you can. One at a time, of course. Then move your legs again, and keep doing that until you’re back on the ground. If you need to, you can probably jump once you’re about halfway down the wall, just try to roll as you hit the ground. Good luck.”

With those words, Ganlin felt the stranger let go of his hand, and heard the subtle sound of scraping stone as they began making their way down the wall.

Ganlin waited a few seconds, then took a deep breath as he followed the strangers instructions, grabbing two different parts of the wall and swinging his legs over. His body hung in the air as Ganlin swung his legs around, trying to find a place to put his feet.

Eventually his feet scraped against a part of the wall that stuck out from the rest of it. Ganlin settled his weight onto it, then reached down with one of his hands to look for another spot.

Ganlin’s descent was achingly slow, finding places to put his feet and hands was difficult, at times Ganlin would begin settling his weight on one part of the wall, but then he would feel it shift, and he’d have to pull back from it and find a different perch. Bit by bit, Ganlin managed to make his way farther down the wall, letting himself drop when he was about half his height away from the ground. Once he landed, the stranger spoke again.

“You made it? Good. Now head for the tree line, directly in front of us.”

Ganlin did as he was told, crouching as he snuck forward to the trees.

Hiding behind one of them, Ganlin let out a large sigh of relief as he sagged against the wood. All of the muscles in Ganlin’s body softened as he allowed himself to rest, he unclenched his jaw, having never realized he had begun clenching it at any point.

He was out. Free from Silvirtharn. His body began shaking as he felt a smile come to his face. He almost laughed, stopping himself so he didn’t reveal himself.

Freedom was his! He still had to deal with whatever the stranger you saved him wanted, but he was finally free from Silvirtharn, and would finally be able to make good on his oath to Madelna and the other peoples of that small village. Ganlin tried to run his hand through his hair, but misjudged where his hand was, poking himself in the eye.

“Ow!”

As he gently rubbed his eye better, Ganlin heard the swishing of some of the grass. The stranger spoke to him.

“Are you here, Ank’haran?”

They asked.

“Yes, I am. Thank you for your help.” Ganlin replied.

The space in front of Ganlin shimmered and smoked, the air peeling itself back around itself to reveal the stranger.

Ganlin’s guess was confirmed; it was one of the strangers he had seen. They stood at about half a head taller than Ganlin, and their face had soft features, with a nose that gently sloped back up towards the sky. They wore robes that were tightly bound over the rest of their clothes. A necklace of strange objects hung around their neck.

“Your thanks are unnecessary, Ank’haran. Follow me, my master would like to speak with you, and we can tend to your wounds at our camp.”

The thought of not following flashed across Ganlin’s mind, but his wounds did ache, and it would be easier to travel if they were healed, so he followed the stranger.

They made their way through the forest, the trees blocking out most of the moonlight, Ganlin following the stranger’s silhouetted figure. As they walked, Ganlin realized that he was able to see his body again as it slowly became more and more visible.

Ganlin slowed as the stranger came to a stop, rapping their knuckles against the closest tree in a way that sounded almost like a song. A few seconds later, a similar sound came from a bit farther ahead, finishing the song the stranger’s knock had started.

The stranger stood up straighter, seeming to relax a bit, then walked forward, pushing aside the branches of two trees that had grown so close to each other that they seemed to have become one. Ganlin followed them.

Ganlin stepped through the branches into a small clearing, where a small fire gently crackled in the centre.

The other two figures who occupied the clearing were the other two strangers who had visited Silvirtharn along with Ganlin’s rescuer. The tallest one was dressed in armor with a long blade by their side, and was embracing Ganlin’s rescuer. The other, shorter stranger sat by the fire, dressed in robes that had an interweaving pattern of red and blue, was looking up at Ganlin, the fire casting their face in shadow.

“You, Ank’haran.” they said, not breaking their gaze. “Tell me your name.”

Ganlin shifted uncomfortably as the other two broke their embrace and looked at Ganlin as well, waiting for an answer.

“My name is Ganlin Hardell. What is it you want? Do you come from Ludilakir?”

The stranger by the fire made an expression that Ganlin couldn’t quite place, then patted the ground next to them.

“I did not come here from Ludilakir, but I did live there, once, a long time ago. Sit with me, Ganlin, we have much to talk about, and your injuries must be tended to.” Ganlin sat next to them, and they continued speaking as they looked over the wounds on Ganlin’s back.

“My name is Lyzdrik.” They said as they prodded at Ganlin’s wounds, making him hiss.

“You’ve already met Elizarthe, she is my apprentice. And he,” they gestured to the tall man, “is Rollan. I hired him some time ago as a bodyguard, which has become only more necessary these days. Your wounds are worse than I thought, give me a moment.”

Lyzdrik stood up and walked away from the fire, opening up a back that was laying on the ground.

“Alright, Lyzdrik.” Ganlin said, eager to maybe get some answers. “Why did you free me? You said you haven’t been to Ludilakir in a long time, why?”

Lyzdrik came back with a small box, opening it and taking out two small blue gems that glittered in the firelight. Vievstone, Ganlin realized. Lyzdrik handed one of the small stones to Ganlin.

“Hold this, it’ll help the process.”

Ganlin took the stone, and Lyzdrik moved behind Ganlin again, placing a hand on his back as he continued speaking.

“Deep breath in, this may feel strange to you.”

Ganlin took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air as Lyzdrik got to work.

A cold feeling slid down Ganlin’s back, then spread throughout his entire body. All of Ganlin’s muscles felt numb. The wizard continued speaking as they healed Ganlin.

“To answer your questions, I spent some time as an acolyte in Ludilakir, some forty odd years ago. I went there to learn magic, as I knew that I had the natural gift for it. While there, I served as an assistant to one of the Watchers, a man by the name of Myrlarn. He is the one who you’ve been seeing in your dreams.”

Ganlin’s body went cold, and not due to Lyzdrik’s magic.

“How do you know about those?” Ganlin asked, standing up and backing away from the group. He scanned the area for a way to escape, or barring that, a weapon.

“I know because Myrlarn told me about it, even back then you were in his visions. He didn’t tell me much, just that he was having visions of an Ank’haran, fighting in the ruins of a burning skal, trapped within the eye of a raging storm. He said he even managed to somehow connect his mind to this Ank’haran in his visions, and that they said he was locked away in Fort Silvirtharn.” They reached forward and took the vievstone from Ganlin’s hand and placed both gems back in the box before closing it. “You’re welcome, by the way.” They said as they went to place the box back by the pack.

Ganlin’s reeling mind was pulled back into the moment as he realized that his back, no, his entire body, felt better, stronger. Reaching a hand over his shoulder, he felt at his back. His wounds were almost entirely gone, replaced by faint scars. Awed by the power, Ganlin spoke.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you.” Then, Ganlin remembered the rest of what Lyzdrik had said.

“He told you that he had linked with me then? But I thought you said that you said you haven’t been to Ludilakir in a long time?”

Lyzdrik finished packing away the box and stood up, turning back towards Ganlin.

“I haven’t been. In fact, I left Ludilakir close to thirty years ago.”

Ganlin swayed, his legs becoming unsteady as his mind whirled.

“How? I wasn’t even alive thirty years ago? How could he have spoken to me?”

Lyzdrik crossed the clearing and sat back down in front of the fire, pushing some of the kindling around with a stick that he then threw into the fire.

“I’m not entirely sure. Myrlarn was powerful among the Watchers, probably the most powerful. Beyond that, he also had many other things to help expand his powers, vievstone, violet-lillies, and the like. It’s been a long time since I’ve studied the magics of Foresight, but I would say that it’s the strangest among the six houses, a fickle thing, foresight. Any conversation you had with Myrlarn existed outside of time, and the Ganlin he was speaking to may not have actually been you, but rather the version of you most likely to occur. Foresight is difficult to explain, and I am hardly an expert on it. The best advice I can give you is this; the less you think about it, the less your head will hurt and the easier your life will be. Foresight is closer to gambling than actually being able to see the future.”

Ganlin sat down, staring blankly at the fire as he tried to follow Lyzdrik’s advice, but failed. What did any of that even mean? How could something exist outside of time, something that no one was supposed to be able to escape?

The mere action of thinking about it made Ganlin’s head hurt. He shook it off and asked another question.

“That is why you released me then? To help your old master?”

“Essentially, yes.” Lyzdrik responded. “After finding you, Myrlarn began focusing his time on trying to find out where you were. Silvirtharn wasn’t a prison until somewhat recently, about five years ago. Before that it was just a fort, inhabited by a lord and his men. They rarely kept prisoners. Then that lord fell out of favour, the keep mostly forgotten, then given to the warden as a prison. For the majority of the time Myrlarn has been searching for you, there wasn’t even a place to look.My master became frustrated, withdrawn. I left because he was too focused on trying to find you rather than teaching me.” Lyzdrik’s eyes narrowed as they said that, a bitter look quickly coming to their face before quickly disappearing again.

“Since he no longer had the motivation to teach me, I left, went to learn different magic.”

“At Maeschekyole?” Ganlin asked, explaining further as Lyzdrik looked at him. “Elizarthe mentioned something about a place called Maeschokyole when she spoke to the warden last morning.”

Lyzdrik’s eyes flicked towards Elizarthe, then back at Ganlin.

“Yes. Maeschokyole lies in the kingdom of Mijyark, Northeast of here. Other kingdoms have organizations and buildings that teach magic, but amongst the Northkingdoms, Maeschokyole has the best. After my time at Ludilakir I was sick of Foresight, and so I went to Maeschokyole and studied the magics of Restoration and Conjuration instead. The three of us,” They gestured towards Elizarthe and Rollan, “Were sent here by Maeschkyole, as word of Silvirtharn’s vievstone deposit had spread amongst the Mystae all over the North-Kingdoms. The council there sent us to try and negotiate a deal with the warden, be it coin or whatever else he may want. Once we arrived here, I remembered that Silvirtharn was the place that Myrlarn had always talked about. From the moment I entered the grounds I was looking at each prisoner, looking for you.”

Lyzdrik stopped talking, taking a moment to drink some water and stare at the fire. Letting their voice replenish. Ganlin waited silently. They spoke again.

“Once I saw you, I knew it was you. Myrlarn was never able to fully see you when the two of you talked, you were always blurry to him, but you matched the description he had given me, all those years ago. So I sent Elizarthe to release you, since she’s studied Illusion.”

The clearing was enveloped by silence as Lyzdrik finished talking. Eventually, Ganlin spoke.

“So what’s next then?”

“We take you to Ludilakir, hand you over to Myrlarn, then the three of us shall return to Maeschokyole. I’m in no hurry to return there, the vievstone is good, but it’s clear that, for whatever reason, the warden is not as interested in our offers as he acts to be.”

The second half of what Lyzdrik said went ignored by Ganlin, who had stopped listening after his worries were confirmed. They were planning to take him to Ludilakir, so Myrlarn could attempt to figure out why he and Ganlin had somehow been connected to each other. Ganlin didn’t want that, it was a waste of his time. He needed to return to that Skal and make good on his oath, and make up for his failure by punishing himself in any way they requested, that was the only way that Ganlin would be able to restore the honour he had lost by allowing himself to be taken to Silvirtharn. If he went to Ludilakir, it would take him even longer to return, and he would lose what remaining honour his soul may still carry.

Ganlin stood up, and the other three people in the clearing looked towards him as he spoke.

“From the bottom of my soul, I thank you all for your help. Both for rescuing me, and for treating my wounds, but I cannot go with you. I have made an oath to the people of a small Skal, I believe Southwest of here, if my direction has not been too muddled by my time in Silvirtharn.

My time in that prison stopped me from fulfilling the oath I made to them, but now that I am free I can finally serve them as I was meant to. Tell Myrlarn that I shall come one day, or he could come to me, if he so likes, but I am not going to Ludilakir. Not yet.”

With that, Ganlin strode forward through the underbrush and went to fulfill his oath.

-End of chapter 10-

[the-writing-owl]

UPDATE

01/07/21

Greetings, everyone, hope you are all doing well. Just thought I should do an update on this blog since I’ve been way too quiet, so yeah. This might become a fairly regular thing, if I can manage handling that.

Life Updates

- I’m moving soon! On the 22nd to be precise. I got a job across the country as a tour guide for an old abandoned colony for eight weeks, which is honestly rad as hell. I’m staying with some family there, so I’m really looking forward to seeing them again. Their backyard is pretty much just the Atlantic ocean so that’s going to be really cool, I’ve always really enjoyed being by the water (even though it also scares the bones out of me.)

- Pretty much right after I’m done with the job, I’m going to be attending filmschool! This is really awesome news, because going to filmschool has been my intention pretty much since I was about 15 years old now, so it feels good to finally get the chance to go, just shy of turning 19. It’s also going to be in the part of my country that I spent the first ~halfish of my life in so it’ll be good to be pretty close to the old stomping grounds as it were. And like 90% of my family lives nearby where I’ll be staying as well, and that’s always nice.

- I have some family visiting this week (Got back from the airport about an hour ago) and as such I probably won’t be able to write as much as I would like to sadly. We’ll see though, I can probably scrounge up some time to do it.

WIP Updates

- Five Wicked Stories of Darkness: This one is currently at about just over 1.5k words. Which is sort of disappointing on a personal level. I’ll be honest and admit that I’m pretty disappointed in my lack of effort or progress with any of the wips I’m “working” on right now. I do have two of the stories pretty much planned out so that should make righting those two a little bit easier.

- To World’s End: I haven’t even started this one yet, so yeah 0 words. I have been working on the worldbuilding though, and it is going very well. I am actually very excited about the worldbuilding and I definitely will be sharing some of it with you guys soon.

- A Dark and Stormy Night: This one I have not worked on at all oops. Still at a measly 725 words, I have not worked on it since mid-June.

Anywyas yeah. Let me know if you want on the taglist of any of these WIPs and I’ll add you guys! Thanks for the support as always :)

-N.H.B.

[the-northkingdoms]

CHAPTER 10

AN: Here it is, chapter 10! Thank you all so much for the continued support of this blog, I really do appreciate it more than I could ever convey. I hope you all enjoy this one!

Ganlin held on to the stranger’s hand tightly as they pulled him along, sticking to the shadows along the wall surrounding the courtyard.

Ganlin’s hairs stood on end as he was pulled along. His heart was beating so hard Ganlin was worried that a guard might hear it. The sky was clear, with all three moons high above, their lunar light shining down onto the world.

The stranger stopped, and Ganlin followed suit.

They had followed the walls up to the main gate, freedom laying on the other side. On either side of the gate were two doors, facing opposite each other, both shut. Ganlin’s heartbeat picked up as the stranger kept him in place, the waiting making him more nervous.

Eventually, a group of guards came from the main keep and walked through one of the doors. When the door closed, the stranger led Ganlin to right next to the door. A few minutes later, the door opened again, a different trio of guards coming out, all talking to each other.

Ganlin’s arm was pulled sharply as the stranger dragged him through the door before it could close, somehow evading the attention of all three of the guards.

Inside the wall, the stranger led Ganlin up a flight upstairs and to another door, this one slightly ajar. Just wide enough for someone to slip through, Ganlin thought.

The stranger pulled him along, and Ganlin shimmied through the narrow opening.

They were on the top of the wall, now, and all along it, guards stood. Each guard stood facing inwards, looking down on the courtyard to insure that no prisoner was escaping, from time to time looking over the other side of the wall, to see if anyone was approaching the prison.

The stranger led Ganlin in a straight line, waiting for guards to cross from one side of the wall to the other before moving forward.

Once they were close to one of the corners, the stranger stopped again, speaking to Ganlin in a low whisper, their voice very close to his ear.

“Do you have any experience in climbing, Ank’haran?”

Ganlin shook his head; Ank’hara was mostly sand dunes, meaning one didn’t have to climb very often, if at all. Some areas of the desert had large rocks that stood out from the sand, but Ganlin had never climbed them as he had simply never seen a reason to.

“If you’re trying to answer without speaking, Ank’haran, I can’t see it. Speak.” The stranger spoke again.

Remebering that the stranger’s strange concoction had made Ganlin’s body disappear, he spoke in as low a whisper as he could manage.

“No. I never had to before.”

The stranger said something that Ganlin thought was probably an expletive of some kind.

“Alright, well. You can’t see me, so you can’t follow my lead, but I’ll do my best to guide you before we start going down.”

The stranger moved his hand to a certain part of the wall. “I’ll climb down first, you wait a couple seconds and then start moving down as well. Start off with your left hand right where I have it now, then swing your legs over, and put your right hand here.” The stranger slid his hand down to a different part of the wall. “Then let yourself fall off the wall without letting go of it. Move your feet around a bit and you should be able to find parts of the wall that stick enough for you to place them. Maybe look before you start coming down, see if you can notice any ahead of time. Then move your hands as far down as you can. One at a time, of course. Then move your legs again, and keep doing that until you’re back on the ground. If you need to, you can probably jump once you’re about halfway down the wall, just try to roll as you hit the ground. Good luck.”

With those words, Ganlin felt the stranger let go of his hand, and heard the subtle sound of scraping stone as they began making their way down the wall.

Ganlin waited a few seconds, then took a deep breath as he followed the strangers instructions, grabbing two different parts of the wall and swinging his legs over. His body hung in the air as Ganlin swung his legs around, trying to find a place to put his feet.

Eventually his feet scraped against a part of the wall that stuck out from the rest of it. Ganlin settled his weight onto it, then reached down with one of his hands to look for another spot.

Ganlin’s descent was achingly slow, finding places to put his feet and hands was difficult, at times Ganlin would begin settling his weight on one part of the wall, but then he would feel it shift, and he’d have to pull back from it and find a different perch. Bit by bit, Ganlin managed to make his way farther down the wall, letting himself drop when he was about half his height away from the ground. Once he landed, the stranger spoke again.

“You made it? Good. Now head for the tree line, directly in front of us.”

Ganlin did as he was told, crouching as he snuck forward to the trees.

Hiding behind one of them, Ganlin let out a large sigh of relief as he sagged against the wood. All of the muscles in Ganlin’s body softened as he allowed himself to rest, he unclenched his jaw, having never realized he had begun clenching it at any point.

He was out. Free from Silvirtharn. His body began shaking as he felt a smile come to his face. He almost laughed, stopping himself so he didn’t reveal himself.

Freedom was his! He still had to deal with whatever the stranger you saved him wanted, but he was finally free from Silvirtharn, and would finally be able to make good on his oath to Madelna and the other peoples of that small village. Ganlin tried to run his hand through his hair, but misjudged where his hand was, poking himself in the eye.

“Ow!”

As he gently rubbed his eye better, Ganlin heard the swishing of some of the grass. The stranger spoke to him.

“Are you here, Ank’haran?”

They asked.

“Yes, I am. Thank you for your help.” Ganlin replied.

The space in front of Ganlin shimmered and smoked, the air peeling itself back around itself to reveal the stranger.

Ganlin’s guess was confirmed; it was one of the strangers he had seen. They stood at about half a head taller than Ganlin, and their face had soft features, with a nose that gently sloped back up towards the sky. They wore robes that were tightly bound over the rest of their clothes. A necklace of strange objects hung around their neck.

“Your thanks are unnecessary, Ank’haran. Follow me, my master would like to speak with you, and we can tend to your wounds at our camp.”

The thought of not following flashed across Ganlin’s mind, but his wounds did ache, and it would be easier to travel if they were healed, so he followed the stranger.

They made their way through the forest, the trees blocking out most of the moonlight, Ganlin following the stranger’s silhouetted figure. As they walked, Ganlin realized that he was able to see his body again as it slowly became more and more visible.

Ganlin slowed as the stranger came to a stop, rapping their knuckles against the closest tree in a way that sounded almost like a song. A few seconds later, a similar sound came from a bit farther ahead, finishing the song the stranger’s knock had started.

The stranger stood up straighter, seeming to relax a bit, then walked forward, pushing aside the branches of two trees that had grown so close to each other that they seemed to have become one. Ganlin followed them.

Ganlin stepped through the branches into a small clearing, where a small fire gently crackled in the centre.

The other two figures who occupied the clearing were the other two strangers who had visited Silvirtharn along with Ganlin’s rescuer. The tallest one was dressed in armor with a long blade by their side, and was embracing Ganlin’s rescuer. The other, shorter stranger sat by the fire, dressed in robes that had an interweaving pattern of red and blue, was looking up at Ganlin, the fire casting their face in shadow.

“You, Ank’haran.” they said, not breaking their gaze. “Tell me your name.”

Ganlin shifted uncomfortably as the other two broke their embrace and looked at Ganlin as well, waiting for an answer.

“My name is Ganlin Hardell. What is it you want? Do you come from Ludilakir?”

The stranger by the fire made an expression that Ganlin couldn’t quite place, then patted the ground next to them.

“I did not come here from Ludilakir, but I did live there, once, a long time ago. Sit with me, Ganlin, we have much to talk about, and your injuries must be tended to.” Ganlin sat next to them, and they continued speaking as they looked over the wounds on Ganlin’s back.

“My name is Lyzdrik.” They said as they prodded at Ganlin’s wounds, making him hiss.

“You’ve already met Elizarthe, she is my apprentice. And he,” they gestured to the tall man, “is Rollan. I hired him some time ago as a bodyguard, which has become only more necessary these days. Your wounds are worse than I thought, give me a moment.”

Lyzdrik stood up and walked away from the fire, opening up a back that was laying on the ground.

“Alright, Lyzdrik.” Ganlin said, eager to maybe get some answers. “Why did you free me? You said you haven’t been to Ludilakir in a long time, why?”

Lyzdrik came back with a small box, opening it and taking out two small blue gems that glittered in the firelight. Vievstone, Ganlin realized. Lyzdrik handed one of the small stones to Ganlin.

“Hold this, it’ll help the process.”

Ganlin took the stone, and Lyzdrik moved behind Ganlin again, placing a hand on his back as he continued speaking.

“Deep breath in, this may feel strange to you.”

Ganlin took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air as Lyzdrik got to work.

A cold feeling slid down Ganlin’s back, then spread throughout his entire body. All of Ganlin’s muscles felt numb. The wizard continued speaking as they healed Ganlin.

“To answer your questions, I spent some time as an acolyte in Ludilakir, some forty odd years ago. I went there to learn magic, as I knew that I had the natural gift for it. While there, I served as an assistant to one of the Watchers, a man by the name of Myrlarn. He is the one who you’ve been seeing in your dreams.”

Ganlin’s body went cold, and not due to Lyzdrik’s magic.

“How do you know about those?” Ganlin asked, standing up and backing away from the group. He scanned the area for a way to escape, or barring that, a weapon.

“I know because Myrlarn told me about it, even back then you were in his visions. He didn’t tell me much, just that he was having visions of an Ank’haran, fighting in the ruins of a burning skal, trapped within the eye of a raging storm. He said he even managed to somehow connect his mind to this Ank’haran in his visions, and that they said he was locked away in Fort Silvirtharn.” They reached forward and took the vievstone from Ganlin’s hand and placed both gems back in the box before closing it. “You’re welcome, by the way.” They said as they went to place the box back by the pack.

Ganlin’s reeling mind was pulled back into the moment as he realized that his back, no, his entire body, felt better, stronger. Reaching a hand over his shoulder, he felt at his back. His wounds were almost entirely gone, replaced by faint scars. Awed by the power, Ganlin spoke.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you.” Then, Ganlin remembered the rest of what Lyzdrik had said.

“He told you that he had linked with me then? But I thought you said that you said you haven’t been to Ludilakir in a long time?”

Lyzdrik finished packing away the box and stood up, turning back towards Ganlin.

“I haven’t been. In fact, I left Ludilakir close to thirty years ago.”

Ganlin swayed, his legs becoming unsteady as his mind whirled.

“How? I wasn’t even alive thirty years ago? How could he have spoken to me?”

Lyzdrik crossed the clearing and sat back down in front of the fire, pushing some of the kindling around with a stick that he then threw into the fire.

“I’m not entirely sure. Myrlarn was powerful among the Watchers, probably the most powerful. Beyond that, he also had many other things to help expand his powers, vievstone, violet-lillies, and the like. It’s been a long time since I’ve studied the magics of Foresight, but I would say that it’s the strangest among the six houses, a fickle thing, foresight. Any conversation you had with Myrlarn existed outside of time, and the Ganlin he was speaking to may not have actually been you, but rather the version of you most likely to occur. Foresight is difficult to explain, and I am hardly an expert on it. The best advice I can give you is this; the less you think about it, the less your head will hurt and the easier your life will be. Foresight is closer to gambling than actually being able to see the future.”

Ganlin sat down, staring blankly at the fire as he tried to follow Lyzdrik’s advice, but failed. What did any of that even mean? How could something exist outside of time, something that no one was supposed to be able to escape?

The mere action of thinking about it made Ganlin’s head hurt. He shook it off and asked another question.

“That is why you released me then? To help your old master?”

“Essentially, yes.” Lyzdrik responded. “After finding you, Myrlarn began focusing his time on trying to find out where you were. Silvirtharn wasn’t a prison until somewhat recently, about five years ago. Before that it was just a fort, inhabited by a lord and his men. They rarely kept prisoners. Then that lord fell out of favour, the keep mostly forgotten, then given to the warden as a prison. For the majority of the time Myrlarn has been searching for you, there wasn’t even a place to look.My master became frustrated, withdrawn. I left because he was too focused on trying to find you rather than teaching me.” Lyzdrik’s eyes narrowed as they said that, a bitter look quickly coming to their face before quickly disappearing again.

“Since he no longer had the motivation to teach me, I left, went to learn different magic.”

“At Maeschekyole?” Ganlin asked, explaining further as Lyzdrik looked at him. “Elizarthe mentioned something about a place called Maeschokyole when she spoke to the warden last morning.”

Lyzdrik’s eyes flicked towards Elizarthe, then back at Ganlin.

“Yes. Maeschokyole lies in the kingdom of Mijyark, Northeast of here. Other kingdoms have organizations and buildings that teach magic, but amongst the Northkingdoms, Maeschokyole has the best. After my time at Ludilakir I was sick of Foresight, and so I went to Maeschokyole and studied the magics of Restoration and Conjuration instead. The three of us,” They gestured towards Elizarthe and Rollan, “Were sent here by Maeschkyole, as word of Silvirtharn’s vievstone deposit had spread amongst the Mystae all over the North-Kingdoms. The council there sent us to try and negotiate a deal with the warden, be it coin or whatever else he may want. Once we arrived here, I remembered that Silvirtharn was the place that Myrlarn had always talked about. From the moment I entered the grounds I was looking at each prisoner, looking for you.”

Lyzdrik stopped talking, taking a moment to drink some water and stare at the fire. Letting their voice replenish. Ganlin waited silently. They spoke again.

“Once I saw you, I knew it was you. Myrlarn was never able to fully see you when the two of you talked, you were always blurry to him, but you matched the description he had given me, all those years ago. So I sent Elizarthe to release you, since she’s studied Illusion.”

The clearing was enveloped by silence as Lyzdrik finished talking. Eventually, Ganlin spoke.

“So what’s next then?”

“We take you to Ludilakir, hand you over to Myrlarn, then the three of us shall return to Maeschokyole. I’m in no hurry to return there, the vievstone is good, but it’s clear that, for whatever reason, the warden is not as interested in our offers as he acts to be.”

The second half of what Lyzdrik said went ignored by Ganlin, who had stopped listening after his worries were confirmed. They were planning to take him to Ludilakir, so Myrlarn could attempt to figure out why he and Ganlin had somehow been connected to each other. Ganlin didn’t want that, it was a waste of his time. He needed to return to that Skal and make good on his oath, and make up for his failure by punishing himself in any way they requested, that was the only way that Ganlin would be able to restore the honour he had lost by allowing himself to be taken to Silvirtharn. If he went to Ludilakir, it would take him even longer to return, and he would lose what remaining honour his soul may still carry.

Ganlin stood up, and the other three people in the clearing looked towards him as he spoke.

“From the bottom of my soul, I thank you all for your help. Both for rescuing me, and for treating my wounds, but I cannot go with you. I have made an oath to the people of a small Skal, I believe Southwest of here, if my direction has not been too muddled by my time in Silvirtharn.

My time in that prison stopped me from fulfilling the oath I made to them, but now that I am free I can finally serve them as I was meant to. Tell Myrlarn that I shall come one day, or he could come to me, if he so likes, but I am not going to Ludilakir. Not yet.”

With that, Ganlin strode forward through the underbrush and went to fulfill his oath.

-End of chapter 10-

<-Previous Chapter

Next Chapter->

[vincent-van-gtg]

[fitnessdesire]

Can’t risk it

[laderdesders1]

The duck of creativity. I waited so long for it.

[jordutch]

[xraincovex-deactivated20200115]

oops

[rosylakes-archive]

im not risking it

[nessiesim]

Beware of the great duckie 🤐

[dilbaro-deactivated20240405]

I’m already having writer’s block, maybe this’ll help me out lol

[stuckonjbbarnes]

I HAVE SO MUCH TO FINISH

[simsadventures]

Definitely not risking it 😱

[askstuff-forstella-andfriends-d]

ALL HAIL THE DUCK OF CREATIVITY!!!

XD

[lunaria-tsukano97-deactivated20]

I need the motivation

[illumimadi33]

I’m in desperate need.

[xxadorableillusionsxx]

Love me a good ol duck

[bulletproofrevenge-deactivated2]

i have art block p l e a s e

[april132009]

please my writers block is making me suffer

[foxymechanic]

yes please I need this i can’t live without any original ideas

[blazepandaartz]

P L E A S E 

[donutlord23]

I really need a good dose of creativity right about now

[the-northkingdoms]

Duck's are sacred creatures to me. I cannot risk it.

[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-

[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-

<-Previous Chapter

Next Chapter->

[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-