Prologue
Silence...
The deepest, most horrible silence imaginable, then multiplied inumerously. Any slight sound was like a shout of the gods, like a thunder clap, splitting the ears. But this was usual in these woods. It was always like this, and without a doubt it always would be. These were the Shamlok woods. For many in the world the name belies the immensity of the land. Woods are seen as grassy land with scattered trees and frollicy little animals. Merry stories come from woods. But not the Shamlok Woods. Nothing good ever came from there...
From the beginning of time the land was covered with vast plains, high snow-peaked mountains, and deep, dark oceans. Of course there were trees around, as trees are essential to the life of every other worldly being. The trees, though, came in little groves here and there. You would never find them scattered about a larger areas than perhaps a square mile. Humans never strayed into tree abundant areas; only when needed, and not even then if at all possible. Nothing terrible had happened to humans to keep them away from the groves, they simply didn't like them.
As time passed from generation to generation humans were forced to change their living styles to suit there needs. They began inhabiting the groves. Large towers were raised, sticking up above the treetops. Eventually the trees were cut down and larger structures were built. Gigantic ports were constructed on the oceans. Cities grew out around the ports; the towers went abandoned. As humans moved throughout the land, groves were left barren in their wake.
Over hundreds of years the humans unintentionally made their way around the world, leaving desolation in their tracks, using up all the natural resources. Eventually there were no groves left, no trees. The precious gift of oxygen left the world and all the humans passed away...
Supposedly it was thousands of years that passed until the new breed of human beings entered the world. By this time there were thriving forests with massive trees hundreds of feet tall. The surface of the world was had changed dramatically. Where oceans used to be there stood water-engorged trees that stood hundreds of feet higher than any others. Trees grew up the sides of the mountains, split the rocks of cliffs. There were only three areas left barren, two of which were slimy marshes. The humans quickly built their civilization on the only hospitable patch of open land. This area became known as Aldurk, it's people the Aldurens. The forests, covering the vast majority of the world, became known as Shamlok, meaning 'dark fortress' in the Alduren language.
Large animals, larger than soldiers of men, crept out of the forest. They attacked farms on the outskirts of Aldurk, brutally killing humans, tearing their limbs clear off, ripping their bodies open. These creatures were called delmorg in the Alduren tongue, meaning 'demon-beasts'. The Aldurens constructed mighty stone walls around their city in defense against these atrocious creatures. They gathered their largest men to serve as guardsmen and soldiers. These warriors were to the Aldurens as Meshlum, the 'Savior Warriors'. The Meshlum fought back against the delmorg, fought for thirteen generations of men. Standing strong every hour of every day with spears flashing in the sun's golden light, they pushed the delmorg back within the boundary of Shamlok Woods.
Chapter 1: Death
"Well! A jolly hello to you to," remarked the shaken up peasant sarcastically. He pulled himself out of a large pile of mud, trying to scrape if from his ragged clothes. As he stood cleaning himself a crowd began to form. It wasn't everyday that a peasant got unruly and stood his ground against a noble.
"Is that the best you can do?" came the witty voice of the peasant.
"You have three seconds to remove yourself from my presence, you filthy beggar," replied the noble, the afternoon sun not reaching his shadowy face. "If by then you yet remain, I shall have your head piked atop the highest tower." The noble fought desperately within himself trying not to go stick a dagger in the throat of the peasant and be done with him. There was much more important business to attend to that day at the Pavilion of Narmeth. To be late would be a serious offense that would cost him dearly.
An angry outburst from the crowd set the noble's nerves on edge. The townspeople, other peasants and riffraff of the kind, did not take kindly to these threats from nobility. They seemed to be coming even more than usual these days. This kind of behavior was sure to raise a revolt. The King himself was even getting irritable as of late, hanging two cooks for their 'crime' of an undercooked leg of meat. The gods only knew what could get the King this way. His sour mood had apparently rubbed off on the wealthy landowners of Aldurk. And who better to use to relieve tension and stress than a bunch of lowly farmers?
The noble's guards, armed with spears and shining swords, circled around their lord who sat atop a high mount, ready for a surge of angry peasants.
"Stand down," commanded the noble. "We're moving on."
The guards held their positions, weapons glinting in the noon sun.
"I said stand down!"
With swords sliding back into scabbards and spears being hefted back over strong shoulders, the guards disbanded their protective wall and waited for further orders. Just then something caught the noble's eye. The peasant he had shoved aside into the mud. He was still standing there.
"Still there, are you?" said the noble, climbing down from his horse. Marching to the nearest swordsman, he held forth his ungloved hand; a soft, white hand. It was definitely not the hand of a soldier. It made one wonder how he came to be in such a high status.
"Sword," he commanded the guard. The man only stared at him blankly. "Hand me your sword, you dolt!"
The guard unsheathed his sword and handed it over reluctantly.
"Pathetic idiots," the noble said under his breath. "It's a wonder the gods don't strike them down for their stupidity."
The crowds parted, knowing what would happen next.
"Oooh! A disgruntled, stuck-up noble after me!" the muddy peasant yelled out laughing. With one last look at the noble, just to see the nasty look on his face, the peasant took off down the street, running at top speed.
The noble stood fuming in the middle of the street. Two of his guards ran off to follow the peasant.
"If I ever get my hands on you," yelled out the noble, "I'll-eck!" He fell to his knees grasping his neck, out of which stuck a red arrow. A trickle of blood ran down to his chin, dripping down into a small puddle before him. With no more conscious thought, no more breath of life, the noble collapsed. He lay dead, his body sprawled out on the dirt road. The mass of townsfolk went back to their daily work without a word, without a second glance at the dead man.
"Name of the gods! Call the guards, Kelnon!" The robed man leaned slightly out of the window to get a better view of the scene below. "The peasants! T-they murdered-"
"The peasants did nothing," cut in Kelnon, who too stood near the window observing the events below. She abruptly turned away from the window, walking to an empty table in the center of the large room. Her stride was steady as she walked. She seemed to glide across the floor airily, not swaying from side to side in the least like most other people. In this afternoon sun she was illuminated by the golden rays streaming through the window. Her hair shined cleanly, smoothly, like sanded and waxed wood. It fell in a thick braid to the center of her gently curving back. Her large blue eyes helped enhance her brilliance as she looked back towards the man standing at the window. He had come fully back into the room now, and had locked his icy gaze on Kelnon.
"But? But they-"
"They had nothing to do with the killing, Mendek," spoke Kelnon calmly. "I am quite sure of it."
"Then who?" Mendek asked in a frightened tone, brushing a wisp of slightly graying hair away from his eyes. His hair, once thick and curly dark-brown, now hung limply in tangles around his slumped shoulders.
"I'm not certain," came Kelnon's voice gently floating through the room. She had moved again to stand near the door. "But you have nothing to worry about, my friend. Never has anything such as this happened within this tower; your tower. And, I believe, nothing of the sort ever shall. Now, I must change from this stiff armor, and I shant have your have your steely gaze upon me while I do so." With that she opened the door, the slightest smile upon her lips.
"Of course not," replied Mendek, blushing. "Would a warm meal please you? I can have it brought up."
Kelnon looked at him reluctantly. Mendek walked to where she stood by the door.
"Or perhaps you would like to join me for a fresh bowl of mernok soup in the dining hall?" Mendek offered.
"I'm sorry," said Kelnon. She was very sincere in her apology, for the company of Mendek was always a pleasure to her. She brushed her soft hand against his.
After a moment Mendek broke the comfortable silence that had grown between them. "Ah! Of course, how could I forget? You prefer your meals in solitude. Alas, I am still trying to figure out your mind. Quite different from everyone's, it is. Indeed, quite different."
Mendek stepped into the hall laughing to himself. He turned back, looked into the bright eyes of Kelnon, and held their gaze. A last look meant simply to tide over his mind's appetite. Then, as expected, the door silently closed. Mendek stood in silence for a moment. The atmosphere around him seemed to darken. The sun's rays no longer hung in the air. Suddenly laughing to himself again, about himself-about his feelings for Kelnon-he made his way down the gloomy hall.
The city of Aldurk could be called large. It could also be called small, for there were no other cities on the world to compare it to. In relation to Shamlok it was tiny. Shamlok supposedly covered over three quarters of the world's surface, but nobody had had the courage to map it out to prove this true. There were also the two swamps to factor in that were not considered part of the Woods.
As to the-sizeable- city of Aldurk, it was surrounded on all sides by a massive stone wall. This wall, simply called the Wall, had been constructed many generations before, when it's citizens were brave enough to mine the mountains to the west. For the people of that time it was either mining the mountains to build the Wall, and possibly die trying, or be killed by doing nothing to save themselves. At this time horrible creatures-delmorg-began creeping from the Woods. They now inhabited the mountains, named the Kelmosh Range. Kelmosh; the Alduren word meaning 'sacrificial life.' The Aldurens to mine that range so long before had sacrificed their lives to protect their city. They had given their gift of lives into the building of the Wall, into the insurance that their children, and their children's children, would live in safety. Or, rather, a safety from the delmorg, if not from their atrocious lifestyle?
All the buildings within the boundary of the Wall were constructed of wood. Every building, with the exception of the smith shop, stood several stories high. This was due to the lack of housing space. These rickety structures sagged and tilted toward the streets with all of the weight they were made to endure. This, though, was of no concern to the occupants, for if a building lost it's upright stature it would merely tip against it's neighbor across the street. The buildings would balance themselves with each other.
Scattered among these shabby buildings were towers; even more dilapidated, if that were even possible. The wealthy felt it worth while to live higher up, above the rank stench of the city. Wet, rotting wood held a horrible smell alone, but mixed with peasants, livestock, molding food leftover from street vendors, and other city surroundings, it was nearly enough to make a goat vomit. And goats could handle a lot. The wealthy, therefore, built above the putrid pit of a city. Some of these tower owners, Mendek among them, even resorted to building below the city. Dank, dark tunnels were laboriously dug out below the towers. It was normal to find a door hidden from sight behind a frayed-edged tapestry or below and spongy rug. But this was not so in Mendek Tower. His tunnel entrance was to be found in the most unlikely of place; in a guest closet! But this was pure genius, for what guest of this tower would ever need a closet? Who, out of the whole city, had enough even to fill a drawer? Not even the wealthy; not the King himself.
Having laughed a series of agonizing thoughts away-how could Kelnon ever feel love toward a feeble wretch like himself?-Mendek locked himself in his guest closet. The air inside was stuffy and thick. The wooden walls on either side would have glistened with moisture had Mendek thought to bring a torch to light the way. Before him a set of stairs crept into the raw earth. Heaving a raspy sigh in sympathy for himself and his weak, slender legs, he set himself to walking. The rustling of his soft robes around his ankles set off phantasmic thoughts in his mind. Did Kelnon have soft robes rustling around her silky ankles? Mendek pictured her in his mind. No, no. Of course not, he thought, she is wearing her leather armor. The vision in his mind conformed to his thoughts. He saw the overlapping scales of dark-brown leather covering the top half of her body. He saw the shining metal buckles holding the armor in place. His mind boggled upon the way the breastplate was carefully shaped to accentuate Kelnon's full figure. That wonderful piece of artistry, Mendek thought to himself, must have been created by a woman. Yes, how unusual; a woman armorer. Kelnon would not allow any filthy man to work that closely to make the armor fit that perfectly...
Mendek held the enchanting vision in his mind, taking in her beauty. He saw her fiddling with a pair of those metal buckles. He envisioned her removing the breastplate; that astonishing work of art.
He picked himself up off the floor a moment later. He had nearly broken his face on the hard packed dirt at the bottom of the steps after tripping down the last few. Mendek leaned his thin frame against the nearly muddy wall. His head spun, his legs shook, and his stomach heaved.
Wiping dry his lips of acrid bile a moment later, his morning meal now unpleasantly on the cold ground, Mendek shook his head.
"Damn fool," he scolded himself. "You've more important thoughts to dwell upon than of that inane woman."
He would come to meet those more important thoughts at the end of this dreary tunnel, if ever he got there.