• Alundar
    By
    Brandon K. Markham



    Chapter I: Another Cry

    In an age known to all, the Third Age, the Iron Age, Age of Law, a thunderous cry could be heard across the valley of Kalinor, underneath an azure sky. It was not the first time this had happened. In fact, this is the sixth time, on the sixth week, in the sixth month. The people knew where the roar was, and what it was, but chose never to confront it. People like Coblyn Lukborn, chose never to confront this shadow of the land. However, he knew that it would be he whom the people will choose to confront it. He knew ever so much. But it did not matter now…he was almost finished with the painting he so worked on for six months. Almost finished. The towering window frame in the golden green room showed the nobleman the fear of his people, how they all were running around like angry children, some pointing towards the Burned Mountains, and some pointing to the heavens. Some have even said that the terror can fly, and that it has been ranging its flight wider and wider. It would only be a matter of time before the terror destroyed Eruhil. The painting was almost finished. The Eruhilmen were affected by panic, every single one of them like an epidemic. The painting was almost finished. Screams of mercy could be heard, people kneeling, praying to The Maker, and some near the gates, rushing out of town. The painting…is finished. Coblyn’s world would end as he knows it, a forgotten memory, turned into myth. A loud rapping came from the door behind him.
    “Lord! My Lord!” A raspy voice came from behind the finely wooden door. Coblyn strode to the door, shuddering with every step, as if he were walking directly towards his death. Slowly and cautiously he opened the door, revealing a familiar face. Thank The Maker it was just Yoril. Yoril was a good man. Stern, but good. The years really did hit the man hard however, since he cannot really move. Coblyn pondered, how long did it take the one-hundred and twenty year old to get up here? But the real question that was on the nobleman’s mind was why he was even up here in the first place?
    “My Lord Sirdar, surely you have heard that terrible roar?” the Elder questioned, but why did he even ask such a question? It was obvious.
    “No.” Coblyn lied. “I was busy painting my mural, which I have finished Elder Yoril! Will you not gaze upon the beauty?” Coblyn stretched his hand to the painting on the far wall. Mountains, a lake, all wonderfully fused together…a true beauty. However, the Elder did not even look at the painting, but gazed outside the window, staring at the black mountains. It was a vain attempt to change the subject that Coblyn has feared for too long.
    “How can you not hear the beast? That dragon cries again!” the Elder exclaimed in his raspy voice. “Please tell me you have good news? Are you prepared? Please Lord Sirdar…please…we need you now than ever.”
    Coblyn winced, but made it unnoticeable. The Elder’s eyes bore straight into Coblyn’s heart like icicles. So he told the Elder the same excuse that he had told him and the three others for the past six months.
    Coblyn exhaled. “I…I’m still preparing. No need to worry Elder, I will be ready soon.” The Elder eyed him as the nobleman was lying, which made Coblyn curious. Does he know?
    The Elder walked slowly towards the door, with Coblyn just watching. After a short while, the Elder paused at the door, and without even looking back at his lord, began to speak. “We have hired another Dragon Slayer” Coblyn’s eyes widened and the words played back in his head as if someone were chanting them. The Elder continued. “This is the sixth month Lord Sirdar, and we, the people that is, cannot wait for you to prepare any longer.”
    “W-who did you hire” Coblyn asked curiously and pondered again. Does he really know? Outside of the window, the townspeople calmed, and gathered together at the gates. Even some of the people who recently fled from the seemingly doomed town came back. “I guess you will have to see for yourself, Lord Sirdar. We’re really lucky to have found him so close to our dwelling.” The Elder went out of the room, leaving a dumbfounded Coblyn standing in his room, pondering. Who? Who came to the town? Coblyn must have these questions answered, if he were to keep his secret…a secret.

    Chapter 2: Dragondeath
    It was a festival in the town, as a man walked through the gates on a white steed. The man however, was not Human, but rather, a Trow, brown leathery wings on the back of his arms and everything. His black unkempt hair suggested that he was a warrior-Trow, however, when Coblyn gazed at him, the horseman seemed to have the serenity of an Elf, with his piercing…red eyes? The horse reared majestically, and the people were entertained. Yoril, moving slowly came upon the Trow with a not so low bow. The Trow waved him away.
    “Do not bow to me as if I were a King, Wisest” The Elf said modestly, in a smooth tone. “I am here to slay Repzikel, the Dragon that lies in the mountains.”
    Coblyn searched his memory for this person. A Trow who Dragon hunts, a Trow who has killed forty-nine of the fifty-two Dragons in existence, said to wield a blade of cold black. Yes, Coblyn has heard of this legendary, even mythic Dragon Slayer, but unfortunately, could not pin the winged man with a name.
    The Trow gazed upon the vast numbers, and came into view of the Lord Sirdar, Coblyn.
    “You”, the winged man stretched a long and hard arm towards the nobleman, piercing him with those crimson eyes. “You are the leader of this town…and yet…” He stopped, and turned those seemingly emotionless eyes into anger, then, to Coblyn, sudden joy. “I hope that you and I can talk, Lord Sirdar.”
    “And so we will.” Coblyn replied, finding himself awkwardly relieved…a reprieve at least. After a short while, the vast numbers of people faded, convinced that the Trow was an angel that came to intervene the devil. Coblyn also went, back into his lavish manor-home.

    In that same golden green room, Losa, the nobleman’s wife was sitting on the huge bed, garbed in gray silk gowns with a silver belt around her waist. A smile etched across her beautiful, smooth, and godly face. Losa was Yoril’s daughter, and since they were children, always had heart for Coblyn. Now, they are together, until death takes one of them and with children as well. Coblyn’s life was perfect…or so that is what he wanted to believe.
    Losa rose from the bed and strode to her husband, giving a long, magical, and yet a light kiss on the nobleman’s tough lips.
    “Coblyn…my sweet,” She began, her voice ringing in the nobleman’s ears like wind chimes. “How are you feeling?”
    Coblyn could not really answer that question. It was a mix…a mix of confusion, fear, and happiness.
    “I feel great” Coblyn lied, only telling his wife what she wanted to hear from him. Losa swayed towards the window, dusk had blanketed over the once blue vault, lighting the sky on fire, but the Burned Mountains were still as black as black can be, nothing could blanket over them. Coblyn felt uneasy, looking at those mountains. The dusk also made fire behind the blackness.
    Losa turned towards Coblyn, giving a radiant smile, teeth as white as the once bright sun. “I’ve seen him, you know.” Coblyn, felt uneasy at that comment. The way she said it flowed smoothly from her mouth.
    “Seen who Losa?” Coblyn asked, knowing exactly who she saw, what everyone else saw.
    “That man, Coblyn, who else would I be talking about?” She had a point. “I have heard of him. An angel who slays Dragons, wielding a Dragonsbane sword, one made of Blackstone. They call him Dragondeath. A man made Calan’bolg”
    Yes…it’s all coming back. Jorj…that was his name, Jorj Calan’bolg, the Trow from the Larbratar Range, the mountain range due east of the town. Why was he here? Losa suddenly stepped back and peered towards the finely wooden flooring. This was strange, Losa was always cheerful, even on the darkest of days, but now…to him she seemed guilty of a crime. She jerked her head up, eyes staring in his, and began to speak.
    “I have something to tell-”
    “He’s here, my Lady.” A servant garbed in gold and green came by the still opened door, interrupting what Losa was saying.
    “What is he saying Losa?” A confused Coblyn questioned. Losa’s charcoal eyes wandered about the room, as if trying to find the right words to answer her husband’s question. “Losa?”
    “I figured you wouldn’t mind but…” She trailed off
    “What, you figured what Losa?”
    “That man who came into town today…I told that servant to find him and invite him over to our house so he could-“
    “What!” Coblyn exclaimed, wishing he would take back that moment. Coblyn felt that his knees would give away, and he had to struggle to keep upright. “He’s…here?” Coblyn questioned in a quieter tone.
    “Yes Coblyn…he’s in the lobby now” Repeated Losa, an element of surprise in her tone. Never had Coblyn did this before. Coblyn suddenly found the strength to march to the door, where the servant was standing, watching.
    “Take me to him, Ien.’ Coblyn asked.
    “Yes my Lord. Please, come this way.”

    The manor was not a maze, not like Coblyn had prayed so. After a few corridors and a short flight from the stairs, the winged man was their, in front of an ancient fireplace, staring at the long and slender blade that sparkled crimson in the leaping flames. The Trow peeked over his shoulder, arms crossed, but not in a defiant manner. The man strode towards the manor’s owner, meeting the Lord Sirdar in a welcoming shake of hands and hug. It was a Trow welcoming, a sacred and warm one at that.
    “I feel Like I am at home Sirdar Coblyn, Lord of Eruhil.” The conversation started decent so far…no hint that he knows. The Trow examined Coblyn, using his eyes, focusing more on the hands than any other part. The Trow snickered to himself, but Coblyn heard it.
    “So…tell me…” Jorj began, Coblyn gulped. “This blade, Alundar…” Jorj turned, giving Coblyn the sight of his back.
    The Servant grunted. “Excuse me Sir Jorj, but one does not simply turn his back to Kalinor nobility. Show respect.”
    Jorj snickered, a little bit louder and…and somewhat madder. “Sirdar Coblyn, surely you keep your servant’s tongue. If this person…this Human, would ever have done something like this in the mountains…well…I’ll just speak that he would face a death worse than death itself.”
    Coblyn looked into his servant’s eyes, fear obviously in them. The servant shuddered, Jorj’s baritone voice grabbing the fragile man’s heart.
    “Well Trow-friend,” Coblyn began, searching for the right words to say. Jorj crossed his arms, defiantly this time. “Humans have different ways of carrying things out than the Mountainfolk. He is free to speak” Jorj still kept that stance. He waved his hand excusing the manner. Jorj stared deep into Alundar.
    “This sword…how did you acquire it?”
    Coblyn was dumbfounded, carefully searching for the right words to say.
    “I got it from the first Dragon that I-I ever s-slew…It was in the devil’s thigh…” He lied nervously, failing at not trying to shudder. Jorj turned around with a hard expression. Jorj did not buy it.
    “In its thigh you say now? Hmm…” He seemed to consider that last part. “Tell me, what are your slaying techniques? As you know, no Human-ordinary, that is-could slay such a thing.”
    “Well…uh…”
    “Supper is made” A cook came out from the room behind him. Her dirtied face warmed Coblyn’s heart. Saved.
    “Just because dinner is made Sirdar Coblyn, do not expect my question to die down.”

    The table was long and round, and somewhat open due to the windows that surrounded the room. Coblyn and Jorj sat across from each other, one giving the other seemingly hateful glares. Losa came in, wearing her supper gowns of green and gold, with a belt of high silver butterflies chained together. The table was lavishly decorated with fried dragon-turkey, stuffing, potatoes and gravy. A feast fitted for a king. The Sirdar’s guards came in the room as well, their steel mail making light in the room. They came not to eat of course, but to keep an eye on the Trow, a careful one at that. Jorj’s wings folded into his arms, a sight that Coblyn never seen before. The warrior then stood up, glass of wine in one hand, a spoon in the other. He caught the attention of the three guardsmen’s cavernous eyes. A grim smile formed on that hard face, and an echoing noise from the spoon hitting the glass broke the tension…and the glass.
    “A toast…to the Lord Sirdar of Eruhil…a toast, to the Dragon Slayer!” No one gave applause. “My Lord Sirdar, Coblyn. I give my greatest regret that I cannot name you Dragon Slayer, though you hold Alundar…” The room was silent, but the atmosphere was more than tense. Coblyn definitely felt tense. The guardsmen, although not taking up arms, used their words to defend their lord.
    “Mongrel!” One said. “Our Lord Sirdar invites you to his home to feast and be happy…yet you insult him, and this is how you give him your ‘thanks’?” Coblyn rose up, not wanting to continue this skirmish.
    “Everyone, just calm down. I do not think that Sir Jorj meant no harm. After all, He is a Trow, and we are Human.”
    “But…” All eyes fell on Jorj, whose smile glimmered like the moon. “I did mean to harm him. He is no Slayer. I slew over forty of the world’s Dragons, travelling sea to sea, mountains, forests, and I hunted the skies themselves for the Dragons they kept secret! Twenty long years have I taken up arms and with Ourobitr, proceeded with the hunts, and you Humans are so gullible, believing this false man to be a Slayer. Do you know what the crimson sword on the mantle is? Truly know it?” The entire room fell silent. The story of Alundar was rarely told; even the guardsmen could not remember it so. So, Coblyn began.
    “The sword…I used it to kill that devil, twenty years to the day-”
    “I asked if you knew what it was, not your fireside stories.”
    The guardsmen looked as though they were going to followup on that comment, but Coblyn waved them away. Even Coblyn did not know of the sword, which made coming up with a lie even more difficult, and put him further in the hole that he dug. He doubted that he would see the light, unscathed that was. Jorj started for the entryway, retiring for the night Coblyn supposed. But before he completely left the room, he waved a gentle gesture towards Coblyn. For the rest of that night, Coblyn sat with his wife, who was eyeing him suspiciously. The guardsmen as well. When will he ever see the light? He should have never claimed such a noble title.








    Chapter 3: Revelations

    The winds broke through Coblyn’s fleshy defenses; the sun shining above lent no helpful warmth. The knife-edged scorched mountains crowded the young boy and the figure leading him. The other man was a few years older, yet, as an adventurer, had knowledge greater than that of the Elders.
    “Where are we going Theodon?” the adolescent asked quietly. He did not want to get his brother angry. Last time Coblyn asked a questioned, he was answered in the form of bruises. Coblyn was surprised when his brother turned around, a smile cracked on his soft and gentle face. “You know were not supposed to be up here.” Theodon’s smile suddenly vanished.
    “You chicken, why are you so afraid?” Theodon asked rhetorically, to which Coblyn shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes you got to bend the rules a little bit. I know the Elders said ‘the Burned Mountains is a forsaken place, plagued by ghosts and other fell creatures’ blah blah. They have to be hiding something up here…something they don’t want to be found…and Coblyn.” Coblyn met his brother’s eyes, which were the color of the sky itself. “I think I found it.”

    The marvle pillars were weather worn, and many of the common builidings were destroyed, revealing their insides. Coblyn followed his brother, fear continusly sweeping over him as he passed a destroyed home or building. He thought of the ghosts stories they told back down, of how people that come to this part of the mountains, Avadelsca, never return….or if they do return, they come back mad. Coblyn has seen such a person. Lornth was his name, and he had to be killed because Lornth almost killed Coblyn. They followed a barely visible dirt road that led to an intact palace, suffering only scorch marks. Coblyn has heard of other tales…of how the Giants of old were killed, and the Trow were driven from these same mountains. However, it did not matter now. They were at the entrance.
    “Well, were here!”
    A twig snapped.

    The orange rays of the awakening sun filled Coblyn’s eyes. The forest green still surrounded him and Jorj, only a day into the grove. Jorj came back to the camp with a jug of water, probably from the small stream nearby. It was not fun sleeping in chainmail, as Coblyn had to strech for a few minutes.
    “We have food to eat for the travel, long enough for their and back” Coblyn remained silent, thinking if he had formed a hard enough face to let Jorj know how livid he was. It did not work, as Jorj began speaking again. “What? Oh, you know this was coming, but you did not know it was coming in the wrong way. Show me to Avadelsca and me not telling your subjects the truth. A fair deal I say.”
    “Or blackmail.” Coblyn retaliated Jorj let out a hmph and told Coblyn to remember the deal. Jorj knew, oh yes…he knew. He knew full well that Coblyn was no Dragon Slayer, and blackmailed him for it.
    “And if I don’t agree? Why don’t you just fly up their? You have wings, right?” He asked
    “I already told you the consequences. Besides, I can only fly so high up.”

    Along the way to the path Theodon showed him nearly twenty years ago, through a lightly wooded area, and a small marsh The journey took them a few hours, but after those hours, they were out of the forest, and in the beginning paths of the Doom Forth, the entryway into those cursed mountains. The two began their trek into the black mountains, the mountains that were scarred by the Clan of Whitemen long ago. Coblyn has heard of the rumors and was not going to forget them for a long time. There were always rumors and stories of the ghosts of the past, on how the clan razed these mountains with the Old Magic, and drove the races out of their utopia. Like an old dream, the voices could still be heard. One large voices of voices surrounded the two, but they still strode on.
    “We will ignore their anger Lord Sirdar…and will take sleep once we reach Avadelsca. Quick! The noon is already dying out; we must reach the broken palace before all is dark.” Jorj said. The voices were screaming and yelling, hating the life that walked in their domain. Yes…these souls hated, yet simultaneously, envied such. Coblyn’s old fears were grasping onto him…like that fateful day twenty years back...

    “What, you just going to chicken out? *cluck* *cluck*” Coblyn grew furois when Theodon did this! It was always the same, and
    Coblyn thought that it was never going to end soon. The palace walls looked ancient yet it they still carried a majestic feel to it. Light filtered in the room through the small cracks in the walls, relieving Coblyns fears of the place a little bit, and just a little bit.
    “Okay brother, you got me in here, so what did you want top show me?” After Coblyn said that, a large noise was heard, that made Coblyn yell and jump. The noise was a rather odd one: it was a roar, but at the same time, it was a yawn. Theodon turned his head slowly towards Coblyn in a slow fashioned and smiled.
    “That…is what we came here for.” Theodon unsheathed his long sword, but Coblyn was unaware that he carried a sword at all. Eruhil was always so peaceful…why would he carry a sword, it’s not in the peoples culture! The sword was shining crimson, and looked like a rather large and vicious tooth. The guard was black and ancient, chipped would be the fitting word. The sheath looked so plain to carry such a radiant and weird blade. But that question still wondered around in the young buy’s mind…why he had a sword.
    “It’s called Alundar. A Dragonsbane weapon, a blade at best now…I have heard many tales, but this pone is common: they are indeed Giant-wrought and magic enforced, able to smite even the fiercest of things but it was made for a purpose. It was to, namely, kill a dragon.” Coblyn looked at the blade in wonder. He had heard Tales as well, but never did it cross his mind that his brother of all people would find such a mythic sword. But Coblyn, again, was getting cold, because he began to piece all of this together: Coblyn has a Dragonsbane, and that roar was indeed a yawn…then the yawn came from…
    Another roar came and went, but this one was more threatening. “You want impress the Innkeeper’s daughter right? What was her name again? Losa?”

    Those same ancient doors brought back memories. They were here, and it was dark. Coblyn was cold.






    Chapter 4: Remembrance

    Jorj flew the door wide open. It seemed that Ourobitr had magical properties of its own, since Jorj only had to point the sword at the door. The right door broke off on its hinges, prompting the dragon within to roar. It was right there: big and fearsome, scales encased the beast, teeth a mix of brown and red (red probably from blood). For a Dragon, a creature that weaves many tales around it, the beast had no wings. But its cry made up for that. Jorj pointed Ourobitr at the dragon and a beam of light flooded forth. The light was warming and calm and yet, destruction hid within its beautiful light. The dragon appeared unaffected, but its scream was horrendous. It lounged back, as if it were sitting, then up righted itself, eyes as bright as flames. Jorj unfolded has leathery wings and flew around the beats, drawing out his bow and arrow and began to shoot the beast. One arrow became ten, and ten became fifty. It was like the arrows themselves were unlimited.

    -This is where the story ends…in the re-write, this story will be cleaned up. Promise!