The Chronicles of Wetherid: The Legacy of the Elves

The Chronicles of Wetherid

The Legacy of the Elves

Author

Christian Dölder

Publisher

Christian Dölder

Copyright © 2024 - Revision-08-24 Christian Dölder

(r) Logo „The Chronicles of Wetherid Fantasy Series"

This story was written by a human. The characters and events in this book are fictional.

Any similarities to real persons, living or deceased, are coincidental and not intended by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in an information storage system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This book contains themes and content that may be distressing or triggering to some readers. The following elements are present:  Violence and Combat: Detailed descriptions of battles, injuries, and deaths.

Grief and Loss: Characters experience significant emotional distress due to the loss of loved ones. Torture and Imprisonment: Scenes involving physical and psychological torture, and imprisonment. Mental Health Issues: Depictions of depression, anxiety, and other struggles. Erotic and Prejudice: Themes of minor erotic, including harsh language. Supernatural Elements: Dark magic, curses, and other supernatural occurrences.

Readers are encouraged to exercise self-care and discretion while reading. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, please proceed with caution.

Publisher: Christian Dölder

Freidlgasse 12

9400 Wolfsberg Austria

[email protected]  

ISBN: 978-3-9505548-1-6

Cover designed by: Christian Dölder & DALL-E

***

This book is dedicated to my children Patrik Neo, Kristina Karolina and Maria Margareta. Never give up and don't let your imagination be taken away from you!

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Development of the Story

Chapter 1

Story pacing 35%

Engagement 39%

Action development 41%

Character development 43%

Chapter 2

Story pacing 54%

Engagement 59%

Action development 63%

Character development 61%

Chapter 3

Story pacing 72%

Engagement 79%

Action development 74%

Character development 69%

Chapter 4

Story pacing 86%

Engagement 91%

Action development 92%

Character development 76%

Wetherid & Fallgar

The peoples, the peoples shall forever stand,

let a new era arise across the land.

Map

>>>

Scan the QR code to explore a full-size world map, view images and videos, and listen to the soundtrack.

Summary

Prologue          

Chapter 1

An unknown petitioner

Vrenli's dream

The final test

The departure to Astinhod

Aarl's hut

The Ruins of Tawinn

Lake Taneth

The Ice Mountains

The cave of the outcast dwarf

Chapter 2

The City of Astinhod

Master Drobal's Tower

The sage of the desert

The Thieves' Guild of Astinhod

Vrenli in captivity

The Order of the Dragon

Balae's wedding

The escape

Sheikh Neg El Bahi

The Raging Hordes

The Dark Forest

Chapter 3

The journey to Horunguth Island

The laws of the druids

The tunnel of the gray dwarves

A pact is agreed upon

Aarl's village

Horunguth Island in distress

The enemy at the gates of Ib'Agier

Uprising in Astinhod

The return of Princess Lythinda

The Underwater Grotto of Irkaar

The Mist Moor

Chapter 4

The Glorious Valley

Vrenli's insight

The way to Ib'Agier

Ib'Agier is refortified

The legacy of the elves

Betrayed and sold

Epilogue

Afterword

Prologue

I

n the thirteenth cycle, after the emergence of the landmasses, long before the Ancient Era began, at the time when the flames in the Northlands had turned to ice and the High Lands had formed on the continent of Mendaris, fearsome, mighty dragons ruled Wetherid. They fought fierce battles with the giant, murderous wolves of Fallgar for the right to rule the land tormented by fire and frost. The cycle of life, of rebirth, was broken and neither the dragons of Wetherid nor the wolves of Fallgar could achieve victory after five thousand years of war. A shadow spread over Wetherid and Fallgar, and a thousand years of darkness followed.

One day, however, the elves, the purest and noblest of creatures, brought a light accompanied by glorious sounding horns across the Southern Sea to the darkened continent. The darkness was illuminated and the scarred wounds of the land healed so new life could emerge.

20th cycle

It was in the twentieth cycle that the heart of Wetherid began to beat again, and its soul was filled with the Word of the Father. Ehrondim, the king of the Glorious Elves, wrote down the Word in a book and when his time had come, he left the book to Wetherid so that a shadow would never again settle over the land and darkness reign. One cycle later, Wetherid had become a cherished garden in which life sprouted and flourished. The creative gifts of the elves had borne fruit. Humans, dwarves and other races began to feast on its abundant, tasty fruits over the following thousand years. However, as in every garden, Wetherid had also become infested with vermin. Lizard creatures, goblins and underwater creatures began to gnaw on some of the roots unnoticed, laying claim to parts of the paradise garden beds and becoming part of the land.

Towards the end of the twentieth cycle, small settlements of humans began to appear in the north, west, south and southwest of Wetherid. Dwarves began to mine for ore in the mighty mountains to the east, and a strange race of smallfolk who were neither humans, dwarves nor elves settled in the northwest. Soon after, the present-day regions of Wetherid began to emerge and were given their names: Tawinn in the northwest, Astinhod in the north, Ib'Agier in the east, Thir in the south, the Desert of DeShadin in the southwest and the Glorious Valley, the home of the elves, in the southeast.

21st cycle

In the twenty-first cycle, the Glorious Elves turned their attention to neighboring Fallgar, sending light into the shadowy darkness. But Fallgar was already populated by creatures of darkness. Orcs, ogres, undead, gray dwarves, mist elves and hundreds of humans, who preferred the shadows to the light, were the new masters of the barren and scarred land. The light of the Glorious Elves was unwelcome, seen as a threat and pushed back with all the power of darkness. Attempts to bring the Word to Fallgar were prevented by force of arms. The Glorious Elves had to leave Fallgar to its own devices and thus to the shadows, and turned back to Wetherid, where the Age of the Ancients had begun. Great cities were built and kingdoms arose.

It was the beginning of the age of abundance, prosperity and peace for more than a thousand years.

23rd cycle

In the twenty-third cycle, the inhabitants of Fallgar began to look upon Wetherid with envy and greed. Their dark, poisoned hearts harbored a desire to claim the flourishing land for themselves. Initial attempts to invade failed, however. The glaring, burning light and the echoing, aching Word put a stop to Fallgar's greed.

Centuries passed.

In an hour of demonic darkness, a child scarred beyond recognition was born in the north of Fallgar, in Druhn, and given the name Rorannis. It was shadow mages who prophesied great deeds for the child and saw in his dark soul a leader who, with their help, would succeed in leading Wetherid back into the shadows.

They were not mistaken. The child grew up to become a fearsome and terrifying ruler. At the age of twenty-six, Rorannis was married to Jehndira, the daughter of Manlatur, the chief servant of the Shadow and the most powerful mage in Fallgar. The blood bond between the people of Fallgar and the Shadow was thus sealed and from the marriage alliance between Rorannis and Jehndira sprang the Entorbis lineage.

It was the beginning of all evil for Wetherid.

Rorannis of Entorbis realized at an early age that the power of Wetherid was based on the Book of the Glorious Elves and that it therefore had to be destroyed - or better still - harnessed. Together with the Shadow Mages of Druhn, under the cover of night, in a magical sphere of darkness, Rorannis of Entorbis traveled to Wetherid, to the Glorious Valley, and stole the book from the son of Ehrondim.

But this act did not go unseen. A circle of mages from Horunguth Island, Guardians of the light and the Word who had been granted powerful gifts, stood in the way of the shadow mages. As in the ancient battle between shadow and light, the opponents clashed.

Rorannis of Entorbis nevertheless managed to escape to the interior of Wetherid, where he hid with the book in an abandoned dragon's lair. Ehrondim's son and a group of elven warriors set off in pursuit. They followed the thief's trail to the Middle Mountains, where the young elf separated from his group and confronted the first of the Entorbis in his hiding place.

The battle between the son of Ehrondim and the ruler of Druhn lasted for many days. In the end, both gave their lives. Neither good nor evil prevailed. The book was lost, the Word fell silent and the soul of Wetherid was no longer nourished.

Greed, envy and strife then broke out among the peoples of Wetherid, leading to centuries of war among allies and brothers. It would have been easy for the descendants of Rorannis to take over Wetherid, which was almost mutilating itself, had the Glorious Elves and the mages of Horunguth Island not created seven powerful artifacts of light to counteract them.

The Seed of Life went to Astinhod. The Crystal of Seeing was taken to Tawinn. The Golden Hammer was given to the dwarves in Ib'Agier. The Lute of Peace went to Kirindor. The Tablet of Law was set up in Thir. The Key of Secrets went to the Desert of DeShadin and The Living Glass remained in the Glorious Valley.

For five hundred years, the seven powerful artifacts of light protected the inhabitants of Wetherid from the Fallgar’s attacks, but not from themselves. The seven artifacts were stolen and taken far beyond the borders of the country. Wetherid was almost defenseless as a result. It was only through the efforts of the mages of the Horunguth Island that all the residents joined forces and drove the enemies that had already invaded Wetherid in the Middle Mountains, back to Fallgar.

Whether it was a coincidence or not, if a group of people had not stumbled across the book by chance in one of the old caves in the Middle Mountains, Wetherid would have faced dark times again. However, its future was in the hands of the humans. As only a few were able to read the old characters, the Word began to whisper softly through the land. Loud enough, however, to be heard by the mages of the Horunguth Island.

There was hope again.

25th cycle

With the silent consent of the Glorious Elves, the book remained with the humans, and the mages of Horunguth Island kept a watchful eye on Ehrondim's legacy. By the beginning of the twenty-fifth cycle, the Word was once again widespread in Wetherid, a little of the former peace had returned.

However, the Entorbis family continued to try to take possession of the book from generation to generation. Therefore, the mages chose a few from the peoples of Wetherid and appointed them Guardians to spread the Word and protect the book. The Queen of the Elves from the Glorious Valley bestowed special gifts on the Guardians to aid them in their task and made them part of the soul of Wetherid. As per Ehrondim's legacy, they were taught to write history and record all the events to ensure posterity and to accompany the Word that had come to life. Bliss and peace reigned over the nation/nations.

Until the day when Tyrindor of Entorbis managed to do what only the forefather of his race had managed to do more than one thousand five hundred years ago; Tyrindor was able to steal the Book of Wetherid and even take it beyond the borders to Fallgar

Letter 289

The year is 530 in the twenty-sixth cycle. The Book of Wetherid has been in the Entorbis’ possession for sixty years now. How long it will be before they see through our ruse is uncertain. But I can already feel Fallgar's shadow. Closer and closer, faster and faster, it is moving in on the border of our land. Peace still reigns, but the peoples are divided, too weak to oppose the threat. We have been robbed of the artifacts of light. Many of the Guardians have left us, the Word threatens to fall silent once more. Should there be another darkness in Wetherid? A sword of destruction wielded by the young, powerful hand of Erwight of Entorbis hovers over our heads, ready to strike. Never before has the enemy been so close to the target. I am on my guard, listening intently to the wind, looking around with a far-sighted eye and keeping my head down. Only a handful! Will that be enough? Is there any hope?

Chapter 1

An unknown petitioner

It was beginning to get dark. He closed the shutters and dimmed the flame of the oil lamp hanging from the ceiling of the small room. He went to the small cupboard next to the bed, took the book that lay on it and sat down with it in a simple little chair, directly under the dusty lamp, where he looked at the cover for some time before he began to read. With each page, the images in his memory became clearer. He saw Tawinn, lying in the northwest of Wetherid, enclosed by two adjacent mountain ranges: the high, mighty and barely passable Ice Mountains that stretched from the border with Astinhod in the north to Kirindor in the south, where alpine landscape of the Karwarts reached across to the outer border of Wetherid in the west.

In the north-western corner of Tawinn, in a clearing surrounded by old, thick-trunked oaks, tall beeches, thin-branched birches and mighty maples, was the unfortified village of Abketh. Its inhabitants - the Abkether, as they were called by the other races- were a hard-working, ambitious and, above all, cheerful and carefree people who felt safe and protected in their valley. In the settlement of no more than one hundred and thirty houses, there was a store, three inns and a house of prayer with a wooden tower topped by a gleaming golden bell. In the village square, there was a deep well made of stone, which served the women of Abketh not only as a source of water but also, a center of conversation.

It was a sunny spring day. The sun's rays were reflected from the stained-glass windows, which shimmered red, green and blue, onto the white alderflowers, the yellow strieglia and the splendidly thriving wonneziras that bloomed in the flower troughs in front of the windows of the small houses. Everything in the quaint and peaceful village went on as usual.

Many of the Abkether were already hard at work in the small-scale wheat, barley and sunflower fields to the north and south of the clearing. The inhabitants were also going about their daily chores. Klersten, the pot-bellied miller, his gray hair caked with flour dust, was busy pushing a few sacks of flour from the mill to the village bakery in his old handcart. As his white work apron protruded a little too far past his knees, he had to take many small steps to avoid stumbling. It was only thanks to his strong, broad arms that he managed to keep the stubborn handcart in check and prevent it from rolling down the small slope and straight towards Ermis, the white-haired rope maker. He was sitting, bent far forward, on a small bench on his ivy-covered terrace, conscientiously and calmly weaving the rope that the rich farmer Olmis had ordered from him two days ago. Ermis would have been scared to death if Klersten's handcart had smashed against his wooden terrace fence.

Further ahead, not too far from Ermis' house, in front of the door of Bells Inn, the pretty, blonde-haired Mina was sweeping the courtyard with a bristly broom, attentively watching the young Abkether strutting across the village square and showing off their brightly polished short swords. A few tens of steps behind, Werlis, who enjoyed the reputation of a good-for-nothing, was lying in the hammock in front of his house as usual.

Werlis was an Abkether just growing into a young man who didn't think much of work, but still wore strikingly fine shirts made of DeShadin silk and silver jewelry. If you took a closer look at Werlis, you could see that strong shoulders were hidden beneath his long curly blond hair. He certainly didn't lack the strength to work, but rather the will, which he often admitted publicly.

Only three or four stone throws away from Werlis’ house, the gray-haired Gwerlit, who was many winters old, and said to be the wisest woman in all Abketh, was talking to an unknown man in the wildly growing herb garden that surrounded her hut.

You are lucky you came this week, because I would have made a tincture of all the flowers soon, she said to the stranger, adjusting her old silver-gray gown.

I thank you for letting me have some of them and you can also be sure of King Grandhold's thanks. Since the queen passed away ten years ago, his daughter has meant everything to him, he said.

The stranger bowed his thanks.

It's terrible what happened to the girl, and very strange too. It's been more than thirty years since I last heard of a similar illness. I think you know what I'm talking about, said Gwerlit seriously.

He nodded.

My thoughts and suspicions are not far removed from yours. But I am not yet sure whether it is connected to them. I really don't want to rush to judgment. If it is, then we all know what that could mean. Let's hope for the best, Gwerlit, he replied thoughtfully.

Some of the signs you've told me about indicate that they might have a hand in this, Gwerlit sighed.

Tyrindor of Entorbis may be an old man whose strength has waned, but his son, Erwight, is now in the prime of life. If he has come full circle, then it is quite conceivable that he will soon turn his attention to Wetherid, if he has not already done so. But as mentioned before, it's still too early to make that assumption public. I hope Master Drobal's plan will be successful, so that clarity can be brought to this whole strange and ominous affair, said the stranger,

Don't worry about it. You can be sure of my silence, she assured him and led him to the spot in the herb garden where four moonflowers grew.

She explained to him, in detail, the conditions under which it was possible to grow the rare and extremely demanding plant and what had to be taken into account when harvesting its flowers.

The forty-year-old Vrenli, grandson of the scholar Erendir Hogmaunt, who was on his way to the village square and was just maturing into a man, took a few steps towards the wooden fence that surrounded Gwerlit's garden. He looked curiously at the sturdy, middle-aged man, three heads taller than him, who was wrapped in a thick, dark green cloak with a hood.

The stranger was wearing worn out dark leather trousers and brown knee-high lace-up boots, a few thick strands of his long, wavy dark hair, which reached over his shoulders, almost covered his large, dark green eyes. On his back he carried a fire axe, probably from Ib'Agier, which hung on a leather strap next to his dark wood longbow and bark-woven quiver.

Probably someone from Astinhod, thought Vrenli, noticing the attentive gaze of the tall man that fell on him.

The stranger then gave him a hand signal to come closer, but Vrenli wasn't sure at first whether the wave was meant for him, so he turned around looking for someone else. When the stranger waved to him again, he opened the garden gate and followed the narrow path that had been trodden into the loose, damp earth and past several green bushes, low-growing shrubs and a variety of different herbs to Gwerlit's house.

Vrenli was no more than three steps away from the two when the stranger’s dark green eyes lit up for a moment as he stepped toward him.

A Guardian here in Abketh? As far as I know, Erendir was the only one. But he left us many years ago, thought the stranger, who was very surprised at the encounter.

He could clearly feel the connection between the Abkether and the Book of Wetherid. The two looked at each other wordlessly for a few moments.

Very strange, why doesn't he reveal himself? Has he not been given the gifts of a Guardian? the stranger pondered, trying to explore the innermost thoughts of his counterpart.

He concentrated on his senses, attuned them to his feelings and found what he was looking for deep in a hidden corner.

I greet you, Vrenli, who froze in shock, heard a voice within him.

Petrified, he stood in front of Gwerlit and the stranger, who placed his hand on his shoulder. Vrenli flinched. His thoughts took on a life of their own, spiraled inexorably for a few moments and were shattered by the fear of impending disaster. Frightened, he looked up at the man.

Don't be afraid, friend. My name is Gorathdin, Gorathdin of the Forest. I am on my way on behalf of King Grandhold to ask Gwerlit for the blossoms of a moonflower, sounded the voice in his head.

Afraid? Yes, I'm afraid. I thought I heard a voice, Vrenli confessed in a trembling voice.

What kind of voice? I didn't hear anything, Gwerlit replied, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

She put her hand to her left ear and listened attentively to the wind.

The voice sounded inside me, explained Vrenli, pointing to himself.

Gwerlit shook her head.

You must have been mistaken, my boy. You were probably just frightened by Gorathdin's strange appearance. It's been a long time since someone from outside came to us. Your imagination must have played tricks on you, she reassured him with her gentle voice and stroked his cheek.

Gwerlit felt that there was a connection between him and Gorathdin, and since she knew about Vrenli's grandfather, Erendir, she concluded that the meeting with Gorathdin awakened something dormant in Vrenli. She had known for a long time that it would happen one day, although she didn’t have a clear idea.

Vrenli looked puzzled at Gorathdin.

She's right. He does look strange. But I'm sure I heard the voice, he mused, lost in thought.

Doubts arose in his mind.

I'm not going to get sick, am I? he murmured quietly, touching his forehead.

Are you not feeling well? asked Gwerlit worriedly.

I'm not sure. Maybe I should go home and lie down for a while, Vrenli replied hesitantly.

Gwerlit broke a small twig from a bush and handed it to Vrenli.

What should I do with it? asked Vrenli, looking skeptically at the yellowish leaves of the branch.

I wouldn't be surprised if you got sick. It's a sunny day, but it's still spring and you're out without a cloak. Put three or four leaves in hot water and drink it in small sips, then try to get some sleep and when you feel better, come over again. Who knows when you'll next have the chance to talk to someone from outside, Gwerlit said with a smile and then turned to Gorathdin.

Vrenli said goodbye to them and, thinking about the voice, went back home.

It may seem strange what I am about to ask you to do, Gorathdin began and paused for a moment.

I want Vrenli to travel with me to Astinhod and I need your help, Gwerlit. Unfortunately, I can't tell you why, he added.

Gwerlit closed her eyes for a moment and went into herself.

No explanation is necessary, Gorathdin of the Forest. I think I know what's going on. I will help you, even if I wish Vrenli had had more time, she finally replied.

Gorathdin could not hide his surprise.

I didn't know you knew about this. So, it's important that we don't tell him about his task. I want him to find out as much as possible for himself. In Astinhod, Master Drobal will tell him about everything because it seems that he doesn't know about his purpose, has suppressed it or forgotten it, he told Gwerlit, who nodded and followed by Gorathdin, walked back to the house, where he sat down on the steps in front of the entrance and gazed thoughtfully at the cloudless sky.

Gorathdin watched a buzzard circling over the fields outside the village, looking for prey.

When the circle closes, a shadow will spread across the land and then Wetherid will face dark times, he mused, imitating the bird's call to greet it.

Gwerlit was startled and the jug of water she was about to hand to Gorathdin almost fell out of her hand.

Forgive me! I didn't mean to frighten you. I was thinking and just greeting a friend, Gorathdin apologized and pointed to the buzzard.

She smiled and handed Gorathdin the jug. He drank and then placed it next to him on the stairs. Gwerlit went into the house and returned a little later with a small, hemp-colored sack.

She sat down on the small bench next to the front steps, opened the sack and took out a few wonderfully fragrant leaves.

You have to carefully break off the small green stems and then remove the thin, yellow threads that run through the middle of the leaf, she explained to Gorathdin and handed him a fistful of the leaves.

Smiling gently, he took them and began to clean the leaves as instructed.

It was after midday when Vrenli got up from the small wooden bench on his terrace. He was already feeling better, although he was still not sure about the voice he had heard. He decided to go back to Gwerlit.

Once there, he knocked on the door, which opened just a moment later.

Come in, Vrenli. We're having dinner. Are you hungry? asked Gwerlit, leading the way into the living room.

If there's enough. I'm a little hungry, Vrenli replied and greeted Gorathdin, who, being too tall and heavy for the small chairs, chose to sit on a chest. Vrenli then sat down at the table.

Gwerlit brought an empty plate and small wooden spoon and sat down opposite them.

Grab it! she urged Vrenli.

He nodded, took a piece of bread and scooped some of the vegetable stew onto his plate with the wooden ladle.

While they ate, Gorathdin began to talk about the city of Astinhod and as he was the only visitor from outside for more than twenty-five years, they listened to him attentively. Vrenli was particularly eager to learn and wanted to know everything down to the smallest detail. When Gorathdin had finished his story about the most important events of recent years, he looked at Gwerlit. She nodded slightly and put her hands together.

You have to listen to me carefully now, Vrenli, she began, but paused for a moment.

I ask you to accompany Gorathdin to Astinhod.

Surprise reflected in Vrenli's wide-open eyes.

I need you to deliver an important message from me to Master Drobal, and I think Gorathdin could use some help on his way back.

Vrenli's mouth felt open, and he raised his eyebrows.

Gwerlit is right. It is important that the blossoms of the moonflower are brought to Astinhod as soon as possible, and I ask you to accompany me there in two days' time, on the full moon, when its buds begin to bloom, Gorathdin added.

I don't understand...? Vrenli stuttered and frowned.

Why me of all people? I'm not the right person for such a responsible task. I haven't even passed the final test yet and then you're demanding that I travel to Astinhod?

You misunderstand something, my boy. I'm not demanding that you travel to Astinhod, I'm asking you to. Just like Gorathdin, Gwerlit said gently.

Vrenli thought about it.

What's with the flowers? he asked, turning his gaze to Gorathdin.

I'll tell you about it on our way, he promised.

Vrenli looked disappointedly at Gorathdin because of the short, unexplained answer. He really didn't feel like the right person to fulfill their request. He had doubts and there was also fear. It was not fear of his companion or of the journey. No. It was fear of something he could not describe. Fear that reached far back into his childhood.

Does the book have anything to do with it? asked Vrenli, surprised and amazed that he was asking this question.

In all the years following the death of his father, and the death of his grandfather shortly afterwards, he had never thought about the book until today and had forgotten everything that had been read to him from it. A shiver ran down his spine. Images from his childhood struck him like flashes of lightning in quick succession. He tried to stop the flood of images that made little sense and only showed fractions of moments from his past. He took a deep breath and composed himself.

Gwerlit stood up and took something from the small chest of drawers next to the table. She took a step towards Vrenli and handed him a small leather pouch. Vrenli opened it and pulled out a finely crafted silver chain with a walnut-sized crystal attached to it.

The Oracle of Tawinn, he realized in amazement.

I want you to take it. It has been in my family for generations, and it has not only served me, but all Abketh, well. It is time for it to be passed on, just as it was handed down to me by my ancestors, said Gwerlit.

I can't accept that, he refused.

It's a gift from the ancients, take it, said Gwerlit and closed Vrenli's hand around the small leather pouch.

He lifted the necklace in front of him and looked at the crystal.

How does it work?

An oracle does not work. An oracle sees! It sees after you ask it what you want to see. Most of the time, her face became serious.

His gaze was still fixed on the small crystal that lay cold in his hand.

I think it will be best if Werlis accompanies you, Gwerlit surprisingly suggested.

Vrenli looked up, startled.

You've been good friends since you were children. He will certainly accompany you if you ask him to,

she glanced at Gorathdin, who nodded in agreement.

What's Werlis got to do with it? Vrenli wanted to know.

Werlis, well, he's your friend, and friends are there to help each other, right? she continued.

He put the bag away and nodded.

But I'm not sure if he would actually come with me. I'm not even sure whether I can comply with your request, he admitted hesitantly. Can’t you two ask someone else to do it?

Gwerlit and Gorathdin were silent for a moment and looked at each other questioningly.

I want to be honest with you, Vrenli. It's not just about you accompanying me on my journey back and delivering a message from Gwerlit to Master Drobal, it's also about you. But that's all I can tell you about that. Master Drobal will have answers for you, Gorathdin finally revealed.

About me? Vrenli asked himself, puzzled, and looked thoughtfully into his eyes, to which he was strangely drawn.

The dark green glow did not cause him any discomfort, on the contrary, he felt warmed inside. Vrenli couldn't explain to himself why that look seemed so familiar. But leaving Abketh and traveling to Astinhod with Gorathdin was not an encouraging thought.

I really don't know if I'm ready to leave. I ask for your patience. Before I make a final decision, I'd like to sleep on it, Vrenli announced and stood up from the table.

Of course, my boy, do that. We really don't want to rush you. I can understand that you have a lot of questions now, but you can only answer most of them yourself, said Gwerlit gently.

I'll be on my way back in two days, and I'd be delighted if you decided to come with me, Gorathdin said and held out his hand.

Unanswered questions buzzed in Vrenli's head, but he first had to think about what he had experienced and heard before he would demand further answers from them. He said goodbye to them and went to Klersten, the miller, to buy the bag of flour he had left his house for that morning.

This Gorathdin is very strange. He looks so unusual and yet I feel as if I know him. Maybe grandfather told me something about him? But can it really be that I've forgotten? I should remember his eyes, he thought as he marched towards the village well.

He stopped for a moment and looked over the low edge down into the darkness, then picked up a small stone from the ground and threw it down into the depths. It took two or three moments before he heard a thud.

I feel more or less the same as the stone. As if Gwerlit and Gorathdin were throwing me into cold water. I really don't want to refuse their request, but such a long journey certainly harbors many dangers. If I remember grandfather's directions correctly, the road to Astinhod leads through dense forests, wide valleys, over high mountains and deep lakes, and wind, rain, snow and ice will accompany us on our way. I don't think I'm the right person for this, he mused.

He continued in the direction of Bell´s Inn, where Mina was leaning against the windowsill and stroking her long, wavy blonde hair. When she saw Vrenli, she waved with a friendly smile.

Hello Vrenli. It's a beautiful day today. Isn't it? she called from afar.

Greetings Mina. After the winter we've had, it really was time for some warm rays of sunshine. I can hardly wait for summer to finally arrive, replied Vrenli.

He gave her a smile and was just about to move on when Mina asked where Werlis was.

Where will he be at this time of night? He's probably still asleep, replied Vrenli with a grin.

If you see him, give him my regards! she called after him and smiled sheepishly.

Does Werlis know that she likes him? He thinks that the girls in the village don't like him. But that's not true. He's brave, strong, a bit rash with his decisions, but he has a good heart. The general opinion of him in the village isn't the best, but that's only because he's wealthy and therefore prefers to sleep rather than work hard, Vrenli thought to himself as he walked towards the mill.

Come to think of it, Gwerlit is right. If Werlis would accompany me, then I would dare. Although, what Gorathdin said to me sounded very strange. I mean, what does it mean, it doesn't just have to do with his journey and Gwerlit's message for Master Drobal? he asked himself, knocking on the heavy door of the mill.

Nobody opened.

It was late afternoon and Klersten was already in the Belltower Inn, washing down the dust of his work with a mug of mead.

Such bad luck. He's not here, Vrenli said loudly and walked back in the direction of Werlis' house.

"Werlis, wake up! I have something important to tell you, he shouted from afar.

Werlis shot up from his hammock.

Are the wolves in the village? Where's my sword?

He looked around in panic.

There are no wolves in the village, you can calm down. But I must tell you something, Vrenli said to him.

He put his hand on Werlis’ shoulder to reassure him.

If it's not the wolves, then I wonder what's so important that you're waking me up from my well-earned sleep? Werlis asked grumpily and lay back in the hammock.

Oh Werlis, you haven't really earned any sleep for a long time. You haven't done any regular work since your father died and left you all those possessions, Vrenli teased him.

You are only plagued by envy. Besides, I let every inhabitant of Abketh share in my inheritance. Even crazy old Ingwis, Werlis defended himself.

I know, I know. That shouldn't be a reproach. Let's not bicker. There are more important things for us to do.

What do you mean by that? Is it already time for the final test? I thought it was tomorrow, asked Werlis.

Werlis, just like Vrenli and all other young Abkether who reached the age of forty, had to learn how to use the short sword, sling and bow and arrow over several months with the Abketh masters of arms and then pass three tests. When the opponents were drawn by lot, it was decided that Vrenli and Werlis would have to fight with the short sword. Only one of them would emerge victorious. The final test, as the Abkether called it, was a village event and was always associated with a festival that lasted several days.

No, that's tomorrow. So, you have one more day to improve your technique, said Vrenli with a grin.

My technique doesn't need to be improved. You know I'm the stronger one between us. So, admit defeat straight away and you'll save yourself the embarrassment of fighting me.

You're an incorrigible braggart, Werlis. Mere strength is not always enough. In battle, it's not just strength that counts, but also experience, mental superiority, speed and, above all, the element of surprise, replied Vrenli, drawing his short sword and cutting the line of the hammock with a single blow.

Werlis fell to the ground with a loud cry.

Ow! Are you crazy, that was unfair, I wasn't prepared for that.

He rubbed his aching backside.

Vrenli grinned.

Was that proof enough? he asked with a laugh and put his sword back in its sheath.

Yes, yes. I understand what you mean, replied Werlis grumpily.

Come on, let's go to my place. I must tell you what happened at Gwerlit's earlier, Vrenli urged him.

Werlis nodded and followed

Now let's talk, what's new? urged Werlis, who still had his hand on his backside.

Wait until we get to my house. Patience, my friend, replied Vrenli.

He grinned, although he didn't really feel like it.

Their path led them past the village fountain, where a few women who had lined up to fetch water were chatting like quacking ducks. Among them was Vrenli's corpulent Aunt Lurie, who lived just two houses away. As soon as she saw Vrenli, she took a step towards him.

You should be helping your mother in the fields rather than wandering around the village with that good-for-nothing. You've certainly got nothing but nonsense on your mind again. Like last week, when you stole your cousin Gerieth's washing from the line and then hid it in farmer Zerwig's hayloft. By the way, I changed my mind and didn't tell your mother about it, she said to the two of them and began one of her long, drawn-out lectures.

Vrenli and Werlis, to whom her words were nothing but chatter, let her go without a word, wished her a pleasant day and then walked on, amidst the laughter of the young girls standing by the fountain.

A little later, they came across old Ingwis, who stepped out of his old, half-ruined hut. Stooped by age, he walked very slowly, using a small, thin stick. He held a bucket in his left hand as he walked towards them.

In the twentieth cycle, a child was born. It will find the stolen goods, the old man called to the two and went to the women at the village well, where he took his place in the line

What does that mean? asked Werlis after they had moved on.

It's one of his fantasies. Ever since he was with the mages on Horunguth Island more than sixty years ago, for reasons no one knows, he has only spoken of a youngling and a father of the world. At least that's what my grandfather told me. You shouldn't pay any attention to his babble, replied Vrenli, who opened the door to his house and entered, followed by Werlis.

Before they sat down, Vrenli closed the shutters and lit a candle, which he placed in the middle of the heavy, round oak table.

Can you finally explain to me what all this strange behavior is about? asked Werlis and sat down.

He let his eyes glide through the untidy room filled with hundreds of strange things. The combination of disorder, dust, the strange smell and the dim light of the candle, which cast a faint shadow over all the pots, jars, glass tubes, the many books and the strange objects piled up on the floor, made him feel uneasy. Werlis looked at the menacing-looking wooden figure of a Gooter standing on the mantelpiece, its two glittering emerald green eyes surrounded the wooden figure with a mysterious aura.

Every time I look at this hideous thing it sends shivers down my spine, complained Werlis.

And I tell you every time that there haven't been any Gooters for a long time, said Vrenli, grinning.

I know, but today I feel as if his gaze is piercing me, Werlis moaned.

He turned his gaze away from the wooden figure.

Listen, Werlis. My grandfather told me that long before the peoples we know settled in Wetherid, the wolves and dragons battled for millennia over the claim to rule the land. The dragons, who used destructive fire and ice magic as weapons against the huge, murderous wolves, who outnumbered them, inexorably destroyed all life. Powerful beings sent down to Wetherid from another world put an end to the cruel battles and banished the combatants to live out their existence in one body from then on. This creature, which was a mixture of dragon and wolf, was called Gooter, Vrenli told his attentive friend.

Werlis let his eyes continue to glide around the room.

I don't know how many times I've asked you, but how can you live in this house, I couldn't get a wink of sleep in here, said Werlis, pointing to the various objects in the room.

My grandfather left me this house. It's messy, that's true, and some things may seem strange, but that's nothing to be afraid of. I've tried to explain that to you so many times, Werlis. Grandfather always had guests from all parts of Wetherid. Each of his guests brought him gifts and over the years the house filled up with them. That cloak hanging on the wall next to the door, for example, was given to him by a guest from the Dark Forest. Or that chalice on the shelf next to the stove, said Vrenli, pointing to the small, silver, richly decorated chalice.

Grandfather was given it by a sheikh from the Desert of DeShadin, he added.

Vrenli looked at the multitude of objects in the room.

There are so many more here, but unfortunately I don't know what purpose they all serve. As a child, my grandfather forbade me to play with the presents he received. He said that they weren't toys, but dangerous weapons or magical objects and they didn't belong in children's hands, he said, turning his gaze to the small candle on the table in front of him.

He watched the faintly burning orange-blue flame in silence.

Vrenli remembered.

He was still a small child when the son of Tyrindor, Erwight of Entorbis, the dreaded, fear-spreading Lord Druhns from Fallgar, tried to put an end to what his forefathers had started hundreds of years ago. For reasons that were initially inexplicable, more than a hundred knights from allied Astinhod arrived in Tawinn. They had suffered heavy losses on their arduous and dangerous journey over the Pass of the Ice Mountains and were very weak. They stayed at Lake Taneth for two days until they were joined by a group of ogres, several dozen orcs and some black-clad knights of Entorbis.

A group of merchants on their way to Astinhod, who happened to witness this strange gathering, were more than perplexed when they saw the knights from allied Astinhod crossing the lake together with their enemies from Fallgar.

The merchants immediately returned to Abketh with the news and informed the village council of their strange observation. The three old men conferred and concluded that it was very likely that Astinhod had joined forces with the ruler from the east. This conclusion hit the inhabitants of Abketh with full force.

Panic broke out.

A long-forgotten fear was reawakened. Some left the village, packing up their possessions, which were rather modest, and sought shelter in the northern forests. Others buried their gold coins, jewelry and other possessions and hid with their families in the cellars of their houses. Many, however, prepared themselves for an imminent battle against the brutes, although they knew that they would not be able to stand up to the superior forces for long without help. Thanks to a lucky coincidence - some claimed that things had not gone according to plan - a violent, destructive storm that stirred up the waters of Lake Taneth drowned most of the enemy as they were crossing on their rafts.

However, the less than two hundred survivors did not let this stop them and invaded Abketh just a few days later. Vrenli knew from stories, as he had not witnessed the attack himself but was hiding with his mother and grandfather, that his father Hallweg, had played a considerable part in driving the enemy away before he had fallen in battle.

It turned out some time later that the Knights of Astinhod had acted against their will. They were under the magical influence of the shadow mages allied with Tyrindor of Entorbis and were told to search for something believed to be in Abketh.

I'd love to know what grandfather's journey of several months, which he set off on just a few days after the raid from Abketh, was all about, thought Vrenli.  No one had read the book to him since. When his grandfather returned from his journey, which had taken him all over Wetherid, seriously ill, he no longer had the strength to do so. Vrenli reminisced on the balmy summer evening when he sat with him on the little bench on the front terrace and asked him to recount some of the adventures he had experienced on his journey.

I haven't experienced any adventures. Adventures are situations that you are not prepared for. I was just part of a story that had already been written. One day, you too will be immersed in this story. You will find out that there are actually no new situations or tasks to fulfill in life. Everything is part of the story, and you will know this story. Deep down, you will know what you have to do, whatever comes your way, Vrenli heard his grandfather's voice ringing in his memory.

That evening was now more than twenty-five years ago. The words were long forgotten, but today's meeting with Gorathdin reminded him of the book of his grandfather and of some of the things he had said and told him.

Werlis was puzzled by Vrenli's prolonged silence and began to rock his chair back and forth out of boredom.

I absolutely have to find it! Vrenli suddenly exclaimed, causing Werlis to almost fall over in shock.

What do you need to find? asked Werlis, who was only just able to hold on to the tabletop.

His question brought Vrenli back to the here and now.

My grandfather's book.

Is that why you're keeping quiet? Because of a book? asked Werlis, shaking his head.

Yes. It must be here, somewhere in the house, Vrenli replied half-absentmindedly and was about to get up from the table when Werlis held him back.

Don't you think it's time for you to explain to me why we're sitting here in broad daylight with the shutters closed by the light of a candle?

Vrenli sat down again.

Forgive me. I was just thinking about something. I'd completely forgotten why we were here, Vrenli smiled sheepishly, but his smile was short-lived. He became nervous, got up from the table briefly, went to the window and made sure that the shutters were well closed.

You have to keep what I'm about to tell you to yourself. Promise me that, Werlis, even if it sounds strange, Vrenli's expression became serious.

All right, I promise, but now tell me, demanded Werlis. His impatience grew to its limit.

I don't want people in the village to think I'm crazy, but I heard a voice within me, said Vrenli quietly.

Werlis looked at him questioningly.

You hear voices? That can't mean anything good,

Not voices. I heard a voice. Before I woke you up, I was on my way to Klersten to buy a bag of flour. When I passed Gwerlit in the herb garden, I saw a stranger standing next to her, Vrenli shook his head and sat down at the table again.

He waved to me and when I walked over to him and looked into his dark green eyes, which lit up briefly, I heard a voice within me, he continued.

Werlis gasped

At first I thought I was having a daydream or that I was ill, but when he grabbed my shoulder and looked deep into my eyes again, I had a feeling of familiarity. As if I knew that look. I remembered long-forgotten moments from my childhood. I find it difficult to describe. I saw the book in front of me that my grandfather used to read to me in the evenings. I don't even know why I thought about it at that moment, but it has stayed with me ever since. I have to find it, Werlis! Vrenli concluded, looking around the room for a moment.

Then I should wish you good luck with your search. With all the clutter and the hundreds of things, it won't be easy to find, Werlis replied and grinned.

For him, it was just a book and he didn't understand Vrenli's excitement about it.

Gorathdin, as the stranger calls himself, asked me for help, Vrenli continued.

Help with what?

To bring the blossoms of the moonflower to Astinhod. He told me that this was important and that he was traveling on the orders of King Grandhold, Vrenli replied, looking thoughtfully at Werlis.

You're not actually going on such a long and dangerous journey with this Gorathdin. You don't even know him, Vrenli. I beg you to reconsider, appealed Werlis, looking deep into Vrenli's eyes.

That's not all. Gwerlit also asked me to accompany Gorathdin. She wants me to deliver an urgent message for her to a mage called Master Drobal, Vrenli added.

A mage? Werlis asked in astonishment.

Yes, one of the mages on Horunguth Island.

Both were silent for a moment.

If I decided to comply with her request, would you accompany me to Astinhod, Werlis? Vrenli asked hesitantly.

You don't really think I'd risk my life for someone from outside who I've never seen before. Besides, how much help can we both be to him and why doesn't Gwerlit just give him the message for the mage?

Two half-men from the small people of the Abketh, following a stranger to Astinhod. You can't be serious, Vrenli," Werlis added, puzzled.

I don't feel comfortable with the whole thing myself. If I decide to accompany Gorathdin, I'll have to leave in two days' time. I don't know if I can muster the courage.  He told me that this journey also has to do with me. I don't know what that means myself. He kept a mysterious silence about it. But something unknown inside me is urging me to go away with him, Vrenli said sadly.

Werlis couldn't help feeling annoyed.

Oh, don't listen to me, Werlis. I can understand why you wouldn't come with me. Don't worry about it. Let's talk about it again tomorrow. After the final test. I'm going to look for the book now, and I still have to tell mother about all this. Oh, that will be something. Just to think what all the relatives and especially my Aunt Lurie will say when I leave for Astinhod. The Loffers have always been a dramatic family. I hope it won't affect mother that much, Vrenli mused, resting his head in the hand of his left, bent arm.

You're right. You should sleep on it again. I'll go to Gwerlit and ask her what she's thinking sending you to Astinhod with this Gorathdin. Maybe I'll meet this troublemaker then, Werlis said firmly.

Vrenli tried to dissuade Werlis from this plan, but he was unsuccessful. Werlis said goodbye and let the door slam behind him.

Oh, Werlis! moaned Vrenli, who was exhausted from the eventful day.

Sometimes he really is stubborn.

It must be here somewhere. Maybe it's in one of my grandfather's chests. There was a smaller, elaborate one with silver fittings where he kept all the parchment scrolls that he made such a secret of., Vrenli said aloud to himself.

He then began to rummage in a corner among a pile of clutter. He quickly realized that it would not be so easy to find this small chest among all the household goods. He lay down for a moment on the narrow wooden bench next to the stove to think about what Gwerlit and Gorathdin had told him. Only a few thoughts later, he was overcome by tiredness and fell fast asleep.

Vrenli's dream

In his dream, Vrenli found himself as a small child in a summer meadow covered with colorful flowers and tall grasses. He was lying in his father's arms under a huge maple tree that was several hundred years old and provided shade. Deer and rabbits jumped past them happily, without any shyness. Birds flew over their heads and sang beautiful songs over the valleys and mountains of Tawinn. It was midday, the sun was at its highest point and its warm, golden rays fell on the mighty