(title pending)
Prologue
There was a world were peace was abundant. As civilization formed over the years, the insight of wise ones kept them in check with their gods.
Then came a day when the gods chose twelve of the wise ones to be their inner circle. These twelve resided in the tower of the sun, atop the Blessed Island of the vast ocean. The twelve were granted the insight knowledge and powers of the gods. The gods hoped the wise twelve would use their powers to promote peace to the land.
The gods told the twelve of a secret land. A great garden hidden in one of the vast corners of the world. The gods thought the twelve would keep it a secret. Yet several instead began to desire to find this land, against the gods wishes. Already with their enhanced powers, they created massive forces and set out to find the hidden land
The gods, angered, commanded the faithful disciples to track down their greedy brothers. They to commanded huge armies, and so civil war erupted across the world. The secret was out.
As years passed, the ensuing chaos turned the armies into dissary. The twelve had all been dispatched, but their intentions survived in their great armies and those who shared their ideals. The gods, angered by the mistrust the humans showed them, separated themselves from the world, and the tower of the sun became a ravaged place of darkness, a beacon of evil that spread across the lands.
Now, in the chaotic world that was left in the aftermath of the great war was one of mercenaries and rogues. Not until recently has rumors of the army of the dragon resurfaced…
Chapter One
Somar stumbled into the busy tavern after a long trek, thankful to be out of the cold wilderness. Thankful to hear voices other than the ones in his head. Thankful to be alive. He didn’t know why he ran away in the first place. The reasons he did what he did now seem so… stupid.
He brushed his shock of silvery white hair away from his dirty face as he stepped into the Dead Whore Inn. No one noticed him at first, but his unusual hair caught the eye of a few suspicious looking people. As he walked to the bar, he saw a passed out dwarf, a drunken imperial chase around a hooker, and the usual types of people he remembered at the bar back home.
One part of the tavern drew his attention, though. A little group over at the far end of the room seemed to be doing something. His curiosity was aroused even more when loud cheering erupted from the group. Somar walked over to see what all the cheering was for. It was a card game.
It was a table of three men, a small, swarthy looking man, a big dumb and possibly drunk man, and a robbed figure, possibly an alchemist.
At the other side of the table was one dark elf. He had dark, red hair, and equally red eyes. He had a black goatee, a gold hoop earring in one of his large, pointed ears, and a small emerald stud in the other. He had a blue tattoo design across his right cheek on his dark, purplish skin.
The men seemed to be upset and short of gold, while the dark elf was smiling and up to his bearded chin in wealth.
“Straight flush, gentlemen. I think I’ll take this,” he said as he slid the winnings over to his side of the table. Spectators cheered and the men groaned. The elf winked at one pretty whore as he dealed the cards.
The alchemist groaned again and put his head on the table. “Nice poker face, Juib. Don’t tell me I’m gonna win again?” laughed the elf. At that point, the man sitting in front of Somar, the big burley barbarian, stood up.
“I’ve had enough of yous, elf! I say yer a cheatah! Nobodys wins that much!” yelled the big man. The elf looked insulted. “A cheater? Me? That is what you meant to say, right, Holmar? It’s hard to understand you when you’re drunk- or sober, at that.”
This made the crowd roar in laughter, and Holmar boil with rage. “That’s it, boy, yer goin’ ta die right here!” At this, the barbarian smashed a bottle and tried to stab the elf. The elf simply stepped to one side and chopped at Holmar’s neck with his hand, and the barbarian slumped to the ground.
“I guess that’s my que to leave,” he said, and quickly put his winnings in a sack and ran out of the tavern.
Somar looked at the angry crowd, wanting it’s money back, and then looked at the fleeing elf. He decided that the elf had the right idea, and decided to follow. He seemed like better company than a bar full of drunks anyway.
Somar ran outside trying to catch up with the elf. The dry, gray earth cracked under the weight of his feet, and the air was thick with ash. He wondered if there was a volcano somewhere. All he knew was that this land was terrible and he wanted to leave it at any cost.
He finally caught up with the elf. “Hey, man, wait up,” he called. The elf looked behind and saw the white haired boy run up to him. “Can I help you, son?” He said in a demeaning way, “Did you lose your parents?”
Now Somar was starting to remember why he ran away. Stupid adults. “Hey, ass wipe, I just want to know how to get out of this place. Any idea?” The elf smiled. “I’m just joking, kid. Sure, I’ll tell you how to get out of here. You got any gold on you?” Somar patted himself down and shook his head. “Oops,” said the elf, “I forget. Bye.” He started to walk away.
“Well, can I at least come with you? I really need some company before I go nuts. Please, I promise I will pay you when I get some money,” pleaded Somar. This made the elf laugh, but say nothing. He kept walking. “C’mon, man, I’m begging you. Just someone to talk to. I’ve seen some weird animals out here. I don’t have any weapons.”
“Here,” said the elf, and threw a stick at Somar. Somar caught the stick. What an ass-hole. All he wanted was a safe journey to a town. Why do all people have to be like this? In his frustration, Somar threw the stick and hit the elf in the back of the head. The elf stopped dead.
“I’m gonna give you three seconds to run, kid. If your not out of my sight by then, you’ll have an arrow through your head.” Somar started to run, but then decided to stay. He wasn’t going to be pushed around by no damned elf. If it’s was going to end like this, at least he’d end with dignity.
“One,” Somar stood his ground defiantly. The elf took out his bow. “Two,” Somar started to think what the hell he was doing, and wanted to be home more than ever. The elf drew an arrow. “Three!” The elf spun around, arrow drawn, aiming right at Somar’s head.
Somar cringed, but did not feel the cold steel point go through his head like the elf promised. He opened one eye, and saw the elf stand there, hesitatingly, bow and arrow shaking in his hands. Then he put them down.
“Aw, hell. I can’t kill a kid. Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all ‘I’m gonna kill you’ on you. I’ll tell you what, I’ll escort you to town. It’s a little while up the road. Ok?” Somar smiled for the first time in weeks. “Deal.” They shook hands. “You can just pay me whenever, yeah?” The elf added. Somar’s smile went away. “My name’s Somar.” The elf smiled. “They call me Samoht, King of Thieves! Master of Stealth! Monarch of…”
“A thief? Is that why you won all those poker games? With some sort of thief know-how?” Asked Somar as they started to walk along the path. Samoht took out a pipe and took a puff. “No, that time I was just a cheat. So, where do you come from?” Somar fidgeted. “I’d rather not say. No where, right now, I’m just trying to find a home.”
“Ha! Well, you won’t find one in this hell.” Somar looked around. He hoped hell wasn’t this bad. Dead trees littered the landscape, among rocky outcrops and dark hills. The entire landscape was gray. Off to the north were huge black mountains, with a red haze around them. “Is there a volcano over there,” he said, pointing to the mountains.
“Volcano? No, not that I know of. Never been there myself. Oh, although I have heard people who have been there say it’s a dead place. Deader than here if you can imagine. See that red mist? That ain’t no mist, my toe-headed young friend. That is a giant ash-storm, the likes of which you nor I have ever seen. Red clouds, red ash, brings nothing but death. They never end, too.” Samoht paused, deep in thought. He took a few more puffs of his pipe. “Now, I’m trying to remember… Ah, yes. Apparently there’s legend of a big mean beastie that used to live there. Fire breathing dragon if I remember.” At this Somar smirked. “Dragons are fairy tales,” he said.
Samoht nodded. “Probably, but what else could have caused this land to be so… dead? The locals say the dragon came down here a long time ago and burned the whole place up. Yea, used to be fertile grass lands.” He crouched down and picked up a handful of ash. “Now it’s just a barren ash land of… well… ash. Course, the dragon was stopped. Some big-shot hero guy came down with a mighty sword and blah blah blah. I don’t fall into that crap, do you?” Somar shook his head. “Yeah, you got a smart head on your shoulders, there, kid. Reminds me of myself when I was a lad.” Samoht adjusted his collar and smiled triumphantly. “And I was a smart one, I’ll tell you what. Stole my first diamond right under a guard’s nose. Poor ol’ bastard is probably still lookin’ for it.
“Anyways, this land is called Loatheran, the land that law forgot. Well, not fully. There are guards here, but they’re all corrupt. The city we’re heading for is also called Loatheran. I guess whoever discovered it was a lazy SOB. The only city in this country.” Somar nodded again. “Boy, you don’t say much, eh? I like that. I think my voice is nice to hear. And if I’m enjoying it, you gotta be havin’ fun, yeah?” He nudged Somar roughly and laughed. Somar rolled his eyes and wished this guy would shut up.
Samoht hunched down and whispered. “Hey, you wanna hear some crazy stuff, kid?” Somar shrugged, trying not to inhale the foul smelling smoke coming out of the elf’s pipe. “Yeah, why not?”
“Yeah, well, remember the dragon I was tellin’ you about? Well, some of the locals in town and the bar are sayin’ that it’s back, or somethin’ like it, cause the red storm has been comin’ down in these parts lately. A big group of bitchin’ towns-people even went up to the governor and asked him about it, directly like, yeah? And you know what, the governor denied the whole thing, but his little council of mages were really upset, and they always mumble to each other when this subject comes up. And you wanna here the kicker? Sure you do. All these adventurers, a whole band of ‘em, went up to those mountains. None of them returned. Not. A. Single. One. Spooky, ain’t it?” Somar was thinking longingly of the bar. This guy did not have an off switch. Besides, Somar was getting sick and tired of all the dragon stuff this loon was blabbing about.
“Wow, that is spooky,” he said sarcastically. The elf was oblivious, obviously too caught up in his own story. “I told you so. So, we’re going into town in a few minutes. You can see for yourself. I’m tellin’ you, it’s a conspiracy. Just wait.”
Samoht seemed to like this idea of a conspiracy, and talked about all the things the governor must be planning for the common folk; dark terrible things. Fortunately for Somar, they reached the city before Samoht could finish.
Somar looked at the city. It was big, no doubt about that, but it wasn’t majestic. High, dirty walls surrounded the whole place, and inside were ugly stone buildings that were falling apart. He could see just off in the distance a big stone house, about three stories high. That must be the governor’s place, he figured.
Samoht put out his pipe and packed it up in his pack. “Home sweet home,” he said quietly, then spoke up, “Well, here we are, kid. Hope you find a good home.” And then he laughed and walked off. Somar just stood there, trying to decide his next move. Samoht looked back at him, rolled his eyes, and walked back.
“Hey, Somey…”
“It’s Somar.” Said Somar, insulted. “Right, sorry, kid. Uh, hey, listen, my place is big enough for two people, how would you like to stay with me for the night, yeah?” Somar looked up, “Really?”
“Yeah, you’re a little guy still, and a town like this would make you cat meat in a second. You need a smart, quick thinking fellah like me to make sure you don’t get hurt.” He stammered and added, “But only for a few nights, you know? I’ll show you how to use a sword, or dagger, or somethin’ you can use to kill if you have to. Then you’re out. I can’t have you around my whole life, yeah? There’s stuff I have to take care of soon.”
Somar smiled. “Thanks. You won’t regret it!” Samoht just nodded. “Ok, lets get going. I need to drop off this money to… a friend… before we get home. I, uh, owe him some money, and I just can’t stand when any of my… friends… are mad, yeah?” Somar nodded, but didn’t read too much into it. He didn’t want to get involved in any shady dealings in this city, he was just glad he was going to have a roof under his head tonight.
He didn’t know how wrong he was.
CHAPTER TWO
Somar followed Samoht through the narrow streets of the city. It was obviously sparse in population. There was no one on the streets, save for a curled up bum here and there, begging for a coin or two. Every building looked identical; deteriorated and abandoned.
“Keep your eyes open, Somey.” Samoht said.
“It’s Somar.” Somar corrected the elf for the second time.
“Ah, here we are.” Samoht suddenly declared as they stopped in front of a roofless, windowless shack. A large dead rodent was in front of the door. Samoht picked it up, and banged it three times against the door. He paused, then banged it twice.
The door opened. A large, beefy man greeted them. “Come in.”
They entered. The shack was small and cramped with a single candle on the desk before them the only light. A bald man in robes was sitting at the desk when they came in. “Ah, Samoht my friend. Sit down, please.”
Samoht sat down in front of the desk, and motioned to Somar to just hang by the entrance. That was fine for him, the large beefy man had suddenly began poking into it’s eye, which Somar realized was artificial. He was much happier not having to stand near him. He instead paid attention to the conversation.
“So…” The bald headed man said. “Do you have the payments?”
“Right here, Argus. Hold your horses.” Samoht replied, pulling out the sack with the gold he won back at the bar. He slid it over the desk to Argus, who opened it up, pouring the coins out. He counted each one ravenously, and then stared up at Samoht in a fit of rage.
“You’re a hundred short!” He growled.
Samoht frowned. “Impossible. I counted every damn one myself. Trust me, there must be some mistake.”
“The only mistake.” Argus replied. “Was the Dragonhead army selling a single shard of sapphire to you in the first place! Beedus!”
Beedus walked over to Samoht and grabbed him around the arms. Samoht thrust his elbow into the fat man, and then whirled around fists first. Beedus fell to the ground with a loud thud, his false eye popping out and landing at Somar’s feet.
Somar noticed a slingshot hanging from a rack of discarded items on the wall. He grabbed it just as Argus drew a crossbow, aiming it straight for Samoht’s head.
“Maybe in the next life you’ll know not to double cross us.” Argus said.
Somar reached for the fat man’s false eye, pulled back the slingshot, and fired. Argus, unaware of the projectile flying towards him, began to pull the trigger when the glass eye hit him squarely in his own. He cried out in pain, dropping his crossbow as it fired, the arrow landing in his foot. He howled again as he fell over. “Guards!”
“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Samoht said. A cellar door opened in the back of the room, and several men holding swords rushed out. Somar and Samoht had already fled the shack, running into the shadows of the back alleys.
“Come on, kid.” Samoht said as they continued their quick pace.
“They’re not chasing us.” Somar pointed out.
“It’s the Dragonhead.” Samoht replied. “They got better ways of getting back at people.”
“Never heard of them.” Somar replied.
Samoht snorted as they turned a corner. “They’re just a band of bloody bastards who think they got what it takes to run this crazy world. Think they can run this place… let 'em have it, I say..."
“What did you buy from them?” Somar asked.
“Sapphire dust. Sells like hotcakes in distant parts of the world where I travel now and then. Easy to way to make a fortune…”
They reached a wider path, and at the corner was a four-story building. “Here it is, kid.”
They entered the run down apartment, and as they did so Samoht lit a lamp. Somar looked around and realized all the upper floors had fallen apart. It was simply a one-story building with a really high ceiling.
“Would make a sweet home for a giant, yeah, Somey?” Samoht said.
Instead of correcting the elf yet again, Somar noted the various animal skins and trophies across the walls. “Did you hunt every one of these?”
“Yes…I was the best damn hunter in the land. The problem is you don’t get no money hunting, ya now? So I switched to a more…mercenary type of business.”
Samoht pointed to a small pile of hay in the corner. “You don’t mind you sleep there do ya? I don’t exactly have a guest room or nuttin, yeah?”
“It’s fine.” Somar said.
“Well good.” Samoht replied. “Because I’m damn tired. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Samoht sat down in the pile of hay, struggling to get comfortable. “Sounds good.” He said.
Samoht walked over to a hammock he had suspended by two wooden poles in the middle of the room. “And kid,” he said, “Thanks for helping me out against that debt collector back there.”
“Don’t mention it.” Somar replied.
Samoht shut off his lantern, and moments later began to snore loudly. Somar began to relax, for the first time he had in literally months. Things were actually going his way for the first time since he left home. He had four walls around him, at least for a little while anyway, was in company with a guy that knew his way around this godforsaken area, and who was at least going to show him how to use a weapon. Things still technically were bad, but at least he could say he was making some progress.
Of course, those Dragonhead guys were after Samoht, but he didn’t seem terribly concerned about them, so Somar figured neither should he. He was just looking forward to morning, when he could make a step forward to improve his miserable life.
He had started to doze off when a great rumble shook the building. Samoht sprung awake, his bow at the ready.
Outside a fiery orange glow lit the sky. It looked as if it were snowing flames.
“An ash storm.” Samoht whispered. “Never saw one hit town before. Hold on, kid.”
There was a second rumble, and suddenly a great shadow passed over the windows. Suddenly, there was a terrifying screech, and the sound of igniting fire. Then ash overtook their view with a gray blur. Yet the sound of roaring flames, distant from their house, could be heard.
“There’s no such thing as dragons…” Somar whispered to himself.
“Somey.” Samoht said. “Take that sword on the wall. We gotta check this out.”
“Where are we going?” asked Somar as he did what he was told. Samoht swung open the door. “I dunno. I guess we should head for the governor’s place. That’s where most of the town would be.” Samoht chuckled. “Easy place to pinch some loot. Those townsfolk have loose pockets, yeah?”
Chapter Three
Somar and his elf partner rushed through the storm as best as best as they could. The winding, narrow streets made it even harder. All of a sudden, a huge fireball crashed down to earth right behind them, causing them to dive down. A dark shadow passed by overhead.
After he thought it was safe, Samoht signaled for them to get moving again. A few blocks later, the storm was thinner, and the roaring noise seemed more far off. By the time they were near the governor’s mansion, the storm had ended. Somar looked back. The already broken down city was almost utterly destroyed. A better part of half of the city was burned to a crisp, and the other half was on fire. He could see some people already starting to put the fire out.
Somar then looked at his immediate surroundings. Although heavily damaged, this side of town wasn’t that badly hurt. He could see a crowd around the mansion. Samoht was already hard at work picking pockets.
The murmur of the crowd lowered when the mansion’s doors swung open and the governor stepped out, followed by his mage advisors. He was an imposing man, tall, with straight, black hair. He wore a great red robe with a golden belt. He looked more like royalty than a politician. With a wave of his hand, the noise stopped completely.
“My countrymen,” he started, “do not panic. The storm is gone…”
“We can see that already, you ass! What’re we gonna do about our city?” yelled out someone from the crowd. There were more shouts of content thrown at the governor. Seeing their boss was at a loss for words, one of the mage advisors stepped up and took control of the crisis. “People, please. Calm down. It wasn’t your master’s fault this terrible catastrophe happened…”
“He ain’t our master!” yelled out a shrill woman’s voice. More shouts of content. This was too much for the governor, and he retreated inside his mansion. But the mage advisor who had spoken remained. “Everyone settle down! What do you want us to do? We’re already doing everything we can to fix up the city. We’re moving as fast as we can. The storm only ended a little while ago.”
This made the crowd bite its tongue immediately. The mage smiled to himself, and continued. “Yes, it was a terrible storm, and many more will happen. Unfortunately, we have come to the conclusion that an army must be raised to march into the North Mountains and stop the source once and for all.”
The crowd knew what the source was. They all saw it. But none of them wanted to say it. Somar couldn’t believe it. He thought the ash was playing tricks with his eyes. But what the mage said next confirmed everyone’s fears. “We must find the lair of that dragon, and destroy it!”
The crowd moaned in fear. At least, most of it did. Somar saw that some people perked up at the sound of hunting a dragon. A beast’s hide that rare had to be worth millions. Samoht was one of these people. All his money woes would be gone if he could get his hands on at least a tooth of that beast.
The mage spoke again. “Now, I know this isn’t the first time we’ve sent a force into the mountains. But never a force this big.” The crowd’s fear turned to confusion. Then back to fear in the dread realization of what was about to come. The mage continued, “We will issue a draft for an army, effective immediately. Every able-bodied male in the city will be armed and sent to the mountains. And I am sending the best mages from the council to join you, lest things need supernatural assistance.”
The moans turned to screams, as wives clung to their husbands and children to their fathers. But what could they do? A rebellion wouldn’t stop the dragon. This was the only way. The treasure hunters, though, didn’t need a draft. They were more than willing to go for riches beyond belief. Besides, most people in that town had nothing to lose.
Samoht ran up to Somar. “Did you hear that, kid? A dragon! I was right! And you didn’t believe me.” He nudged Somar. “C’mon, buddy, lets get packed up.”
* * * * *
The apartment wasn’t badly damaged. It was in the section of town that was only fire, not ground to ash, and it was already put out. Quick workers in this city, thought Somar. Samoht rummaged around in a back room. He threw a heavy robe at Somar. “You’re gonna need that,” he said as he put one on himself, “I’m imagining that those mountains are windy, and we’ll need protection from the ash or dirt or whatever the hell is floating around up there.”
He went back into the room and came out with a fresh quiver of arrows, his bow, and a very mean looking axe. It was silver, single-headed, had red gems on the tip of the hilt and top of the head, and strange, almost glowing runes along the head. Somar was mesmerized by this incredible weapon.
Samoht laughed. “She’s a ‘beute, ain’t she? The name is Mountain Carver. This fine axe is imbued with magical runes, or something. It’s magic, though, I know that. She can cut through the hardest rock like cheese.” He patted it. “She’s helped me through some tough times, yeah? My best friend.”
Somar chuckled to himself. He could only imagine how the odd elf got hold of such a grand thing. The last thing Samoht got out of the little room was some steel chain mail, which he gave to Somar. He checked to make sure he still had the short sword Samoht gave him, and it was still fastened in his belt. If only that thing had magic runes.
When they had everything they needed, they headed back to the mansion. Somar was almost happy he was off on an adventure like this. It was certainly better than wandering alone in the wilderness. And the funny elf was growing on the boy. He smiled, and looked forward to the coming campaign.
Back
