It was almost at the same time as Duzz and Crefar had reached the city of Medióla, that Fanda first saw Klusáda, a large open plain that span across the southern reaches of the Baronies valley all the way from Upper and Lower Zvlčice on the south to the Velbrčál swamps on the north and Anděluka fields to the east. The view was amazing as he emerged from the bushes and saw almost the entirety of the vast plain, bordering in places with large city walls, vast lakes, hills, but mostly forests.
After some two weeks on the way, he was finally getting the hang of traveling alone. Having never journeyed so far out of Jalka on his own before, he had to put all his talents into it. Building shelters in the rain, getting food in the woods, making campfires - none of it was as easy as it would seem. But with the newly found resolve pumped into his veins by the soul connection with the ancient hero Horden, there seemed nothing he could not do. It also helped that he inherited Horden's memories. Though fit and skinny from the long days on the road, his eyes flared with determination as he descended the last hill of Zvlčice highland.
His destination was uncertain. His mind was set on two goals. The main one was to bring justice to the two betrayers and release the souls trapped within them. But to reach this goal, he first had to get ahold of the means needed to do that. A way to defeat a sorcerer of Crefar's caliber. And that was where his second quest came in: to rediscover the magic of Horden.
"I will find it again!" Fanda swore to himself and grasped tight Horden's sword that he kept in his backpack. Thoughts flooded his mind as he stared at the open plains of the wide world that opened up ahead of him.
He knew from Horden's thoughts, that the time of magic was long gone. Horden stared at Fanda's new world with grief about the loss of the great power and knowledge that ruled the world of men in his time. Fanda also felt from Horden's mind, that his magic was somehow the reason why he was in such a hurry to come back among the dead, though Fanda didn't really understand why.
"But even so, I have to do this!" Fanda's eyes narrowed as the wind from the plains lashed at his face. He had to find the buried sources of magic in the world and reawaken them. "For Tereza's sake!"
But his feet suddenly stopped and did not move. He still hesitated to enter the wide world ahead. The problem was where to begin. He sat down to think.
There should still be people within the human realm interested in magic, right? People like Fanda himself, who believed magic to be the key to restoring order in the world. So he just had to get ahold of these people. But for that, he would need to get to the higher society, because such people could hardly be found among the peasants.
Using the bit of swordsmanship that stayed in his muscle memory from the time Horden was within him, he could make a name for himself. Go into danger, overcome it and emerge on the other side, victorious and worthy of tales and songs sung about him and his adventures.
He clutched the ancient rusted sword he had picked up from the Hall of Heroes firmly in his hand. This was Horden's sword and that meant the world to him, even though the sword was old and rusted. It meant enough for him to find it and hide it from everyone back when he staggered out of the Hall of Heroes right after the bells drove Horden out of his body.
Walking among the fields below the Zvlčice highland, the countryfolk he met along the way were friendlier to him that they were to Crefar and Duzz. Unlike them, he still seemed like a simple boy from the country, if a little wizened. He kept Horden's sword hidden away in his satchel, which helped to make him look friendly.
He slept in the woods, on carriages and in barns as he crossed the farmlands of southern Klusáda, looking for signs of trouble. It was so unlike his former self to go looking for danger, though. His mother had him stay out of pubs to keep him from brawling and she even had a hard time comitting him to the life of a carpenter for fear that he might hurt himself. He didn't even know where to start looking for trouble. He realized that to know where to look for danger, he first had to start thinking like a man who revels in danger. So he started doing exactly what his mother would not have him do.
YOU ARE READING
The Hall of Heroes
Fantasy"It is not just a tale." the wise woman said calmly. "The Hall of Heroes exists. It is a tomb built by our ancestors that houses the remains of long dead heroes native to this mountain country. And through a certain ritual, those heroes can be calle...
