Control you're breathing just like I taught you." A voice whispered into a listening ear. A young hunter maintained a solid stance and broad arms arched a long bow to his slim form. A swift breeze forced his nostrils to flare under a pointed nose and at his shoulders a blonde interweaved braid wagged like a tail in the icy wind. A leather circlet steered golden strains away from a narrow face, holding slight stubble. Through green eyes, the hunter spied an elk, grazing calmly along a frozen terrain. The arrow in his grasp was controlled by a steady hand. The elk's ears hiked up, catching an unidentified stench in the air. With a turn of its broad neck, hunter and prey made eye contact. A breath released and fingers loosened from a tight bowstring. The iron tipped arrow glided through the tall timber and pierced the elk's shoulder. Hooves reared with the impact and the spooked animal darted further into a dense forest. The bow lowered to the hunter's hip and his eyes scanned the snowy environment. "Excellent work Valder." An open hand from a burly built man struck the hunter's shoulder. "Thanks father." Valder nodded. Valder's father Lir, towered over his son by a foot or so, making him nearly seven feet in height. A distinctive feature about him was a strip of snow white roots cutting through the center of wavy brown hair which hung freely to his husky shoulders. Underneath a draping bear pelt cape, duel axes latched to a studded belt. In their village of Frostmist, Lir had surpassed his peers with a great skill of combat and leadership. Though he had settled in this land a couple decades ago, naming it Valahelm. It was a brutal existence to make this northern region a suitable place to live, but hardwork from a loyal clan made it all possible. However, times had changed for the nation and other settlements sprouted with new laws and chieftains. Lir had no control of the towns at the northern edge of Valahelm and this he did not mind. Strangely enough, Valder happened to be the first child born on this land and Lir had named him after it. One of the main reasons Lir refused to take command of Valahelm was to insure his son knew the struggles of life at an early age. He would not have gained this will of strength by being spoiled in the comfort of a castle. Valder wrapped the bow over his shoulder and followed the blood trail of the injured animal. The game had fled for nearly a mile before collapsing in the snow. The trackers approached with caution and studied their prize. A slow declining breath escaped the elk's nostrils while the hunters hovered over. Valder lowered and brushed aside his hide cloak. From the side of his leather boot he unsheathed a dagger. "With loss of life let us thrive." The blade pressed against the elk's throat to draw the last of its blood. Valder stroked the elk's thick coat as death did its work. "And in Oaknar's garden shall you roam." The words were spoken with great respect. Valder retrieved his arrow with a quick tug. His eyes then captured movement in the distance and on a mound of earth stood an observing white wolf. Feelings of comfort overpowered the hunter, believing this wolf was a sign from his god Oaknar. Lir however failed to behold it and before Valder could say anything the wolf had vanished. "Since you killed it, I guess you'll be the one dragging it home." A deep laugh barreled from Lir. "At least I'm not carrying you back this time, father." Valder replied and heaved the hooves to his hips. "Not all men can hold their ale my son. Now come, if we move fast we can beat the sun." Valder traced the tracks of his father over several miles and climbed many hills with the weight of the elk on his back. Relief came when the hunters set foot on their campsite. Next to a pile of smoking coals, Valder dropped the elk's carcass at his feet. With the sharp edge of his dagger he managed to salvage a point from the elk's rack. The young hunter did this with most of his kills. Perhaps he would craft something from it someday. An arm full of timber was cast into the fire pit and it burned brightly with warmth once again. Under the polished starlight the hunters feasted with a chilling wind at their backs. Lir supervised the flames, turning coals with a charred branch. "What made you settle in this land, father? Do you like to freeze?" Valder asked, between bites of roasted hunch. "It is a harsh life I agree, but if you can make it here, then guess what, you can make it anywhere!" Lir's tone suddenly became more serious. "Do you recall the story of the oath?" Valder removed his lips from the steaming food. "Only parts, it has been years." "Ages ago, all men had followed the oath. This law in fact had been laid down from the heavens. The gods had but one command for us, to care for one another." Lir laughed at the thought. "Blood, blood of men ended this oath. It began when the Kings of Airus turned against their followers, all because of the one queen they shared. She worked them like puppets and her taste for control was never sustained. Some lucky souls managed to break their pact with Airus before war and savagery erupted. Those who fled would claim the vast and unexplored regions beyond the Forgotten Sea. As for Airus, nothing remains but a tomb of the kings that once ruled it. The oath breakers had suffered dearly in their final hours and with their fall my vision to settle the north was finally possible. I led our people here by sea and while fighting the waves, I had witnessed a glow in the storming skies above." Lir paused for a moment but Valder was more curious. "Yes! And then what happened?" Lir cleared his throat. "It had captured the whole sky, burning brightly like the sun and strangely it suspended over our sails. The crew and myself lost all sense of direction and even time itself. An unknown force had taken control of the vessel, until finally our ship stalled along the southern coast and then the great mountains of Valahelm welcomed us. I have come to realize, it was Oaknar. He had given me the strength to free us from tyranny and introduced us to this new land. How could we deny such a gift?" The story of Lir's voyage captured Valder's mind and reminded him of Oaknar. He lifted his chin to scan the stars and witnessed a couple shooting across the gray skies. When his head lowered he noticed his father inspecting a wolf fang necklace. Lir removed the threaded band from his bulky neck and stretched out his arm to offer it to Valder. "You are a man now my son and I would like you to have this." Valder accepted the gift and briefly observed it. "It is the symbol of my old clan. We were once called the White Fang. It was a selective group dedicated to Oaknar. I was nearly your age when I joined. We stood for honor and never bowed to those corrupted kings. I should have given it to you after your training, however, it is hard to let go of the past. I know at last my feats are behind me. Carry it with you my son and always know that our ancestors are watching." The gift had captured the young hunter's eyes. "I am honored to have it and I hope one day to match your feats." Lir laughed. "Don't worry, you're day will come. I just hope my training was enough for you." Valder's mind had wandered once again when Lir mentioned the training. Shortly after Valder could stand on his own; Lir's training had begun. Over the years, Valder would learn the functions of nearly every weapon. From sword to spear, Valder was confident with all, but even with this training, Valder would never be able to best his father. Lir pressed his back against a bedroll. "Sleep now Valder, morning will come soon." Valder huddled closer to the flames and tightened his cloak over his form while a howling wind tore through the camp.
ESTÁ A LER
Legends of Torn: Sword in the Rift
FantasiaFrom the remnants of a destroyed nation an ancient evil arises, by the hands of the powerful conjurer Castor. Zoth, the god of corruption is pleased by his awakening and offers his summoner the gift of immortality. But before such a gift can be best...
