Chronicles of Domaria - Book I – The Awakening

Andarion hadn’t slept. A strange restlessness took his body, after three nights without rest. He was crossing peacefully the woods, on the way to Eldania, only with a lamp, a dagger and a dose of courage. In a few moments he felt his mind go blank and come back again to consciousness, while walking.

- I can’t remember when I slept for the last time – he thought.

He knew that his mental condition was declining. Irritated and distressed, he felt very scared and soon he was in an inexplicable euphoria. Strangely, he began to notice marks in his body. His skin was becoming rougher and drier, as if he was getting older. A few small dark spots also appeared in the arms. It didn’t matter. He kept moving forward, predestined for a purpose.

A noise in the bushes made the thief to jump with the knife, ready to attack. He pointed the lamp in the direction of the noise and screamed, fearing for his life:

-Who’s there? Show yourself!

A mare, well treated and saddled, walked toward him calmly. She was lost, without her owner, tamed and tranquil like any guard’s horse of a nearby town. Andarion came over and patted her, rubbing her muzzle and her mane.

- Good girl, - he said, showing affection for the nice animal.

The rogue looked with curiosity at the apparatus of the horse and saw in her saddle an image that was identical to the badge of his mother’s brooch. Andarion was surprised and then smiled.

- Let’s go home, girl! – he said, mounting her and preparing to leave.

As soon as the ride began, an arrow flew from the treetops. It ripped the silence of woods and hit his forearm, near the shoulder. The thief felt the impact and shouted, falling on the floor next to the mount. The lantern he was carrying fell from his hand and rolled away from him.

Another arrow, fast as a lightning, hit his hood next to his head on the floor. Andarion closed his eyes tightly, imagining that his life had come to an end.

- If we wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead - said a grim voice, accompanied by a creepy laughter in the dark.

An old man approached, walking calmly with several wolves. From behind the trees, other monstrosities showed up, strong and wolf-like, just like giant men. Werewolves. Their long and sharp claws complemented their threatening features. They were angry and ready for battle.

The light of a full moon entered through the cracks of the foliage and the treetops, lighting the scene. The mare, scared, tried to walk backwards, but she was surrounded, as well as the rogue.

- Psssst, Psssst… Easy, girl… - spoke mildly the mysterious old man, putting his hand on the head of the animal.

The mare instantly calmed down with the touch of the ancient man. She no longer cared for the wild wolves that surrounded her, and was not disturbed by the presence of those grotesque creatures, half man, and half beast.

The shadowy figure was dressed with old rags, supported in a staff of petrified wood. He revealed his face, in the light of the rogue’s lamp, taking it from the ground. His face was wrinkled, with dense white eyebrows and hazel eyes like the oak bark that prevailed in the Woods.

He appeared to be a hundred years. His yellowish hair was long, tangled and dirty, like his hands and nails. The old man lit the face of rogue, who was still lying on the floor. He sniffed the air, making a face of disapproval:

- The smell of death. It is in you - said the old man, laughing.

The other wolves approached him, sniffing without getting too close. They feared the thief. Andarion felt the pain of the arrow, but it was not as acute as on other occasions. Bravely, he took the arrow and pulled out of the shoulder, groaning in pain.

The grim figure said to him:

- These are not your clothes. Definitely not. In fact, you don’t even seem to be alive.

- Who are you? – asked the young man.

- Just a legend. These woods are under my care. In fact, ours. – The old man said with his somber voice and pointing the lamp to the wolves and lycans. - Ilidun is my name. What bad wind brings you here?

- Just passing through. My fate makes no difference - said Andarion, standing up, slapping the dirt and the dried leaves off his garments.

While the rogue waved his arms, the pale light of the moon reflected in the ring, arousing the attention of Ilidun:

- Interesting. Can I see your hand? – said the old man, staring at the artifact.

Andarion slightly stepped back, leaning his back on the mare and grabbing the harness. He stretched the other hand without the ring, making fun of the old man. The druid suspected, signaling the approaching of the lupines, while the youngster approached, not very friendly.

-What do you think I am? Show your hand, damned creature! – he threatened Andarion, advancing toward the rogue.

Andarion, in an outburst, kicked a mound of dirt and leaves in the face of Illidun, which protected himself turning his face. The young man quickly jumped in the back of the horse and prepared to set off. Scared, the animal balked and went off, passing in a rush through the lupines, and tossing them to the ground.

- Get him! Don’t let him get away! - shouted the old man, gesturing with his hands.

- Radicis! - he shouted, making giant roots and branches grow in the way of Andarion’s mare.

Some arrows flew over the head of the thief. However, at high speed, he was able to dodge the attacks. Faster than the wolves, the mare took the rogue away. The magic of Illidun, the Druid was useless to hold him. Andarion, still down on the saddle, celebrated the escape and smiled.

*

The first rays of sun pointed out in the horizon. The adventurers woke up lazily at Andariel’s small hut, after a fairly good night sleep. Well fed and well rested, the trio were ready to go back home.

- We must leave - said Rune, collecting the dinner’s leftovers.

- Right. Thanks for hosting! Good luck! - Ilyn said, turning his back.

Sofia looked at the mugger in a troubled fashion and then at the girl.

- She’s coming with us. – said the Warrior.

-What?! What do you mean?! It will only annoy us! -replied the crook – She’s here, right at her house! It’s much safer!

- And how will things go without the help of her brother, you moron? – said the fighter. - Besides, I promised her.

Rune looked at the girl, who returned smiling. Ilyn sighed nervously.

- I didn’t want to say that, but she fights better than you! - Sofia said, trying to break the tense atmosphere.

- I give up! – said Ilyn, walking toward the door.

- Come on! We have no more time to waste. Take only what you consider important. Maybe it’s better getting some horses to get faster – finished Rune, gathering some food and equipment in the backpack.

They came to the stables, with the sun still shining. Upon arrival, the young warrior said to the old man who took care of the horses.

- Sir, we need four horses. - Rune looked at the little girl and corrected himself: - actually only three.

The man looked at the young people and snubbed. The teeth that still remained in his mouth were uncared and darkened. His voice was hoarse, and he couldn’t stop coughing.

- One hundred and fifty pieces of gold – he said.

Alarmed by the high price, Rune replied:

- We don’t want to buy them. Just rent.

- I don’t rent horses - said the old man, turning his back. - Do you know how many horses I’ve lost to mad people that come here?

Sofia interrupted, trying to give a feminine touch to the conversation:

- Sir, please! I need to go to Eldania before nightfall to see my father. I got a letter saying that he is very sick.

- Look, honey, it’s not going to happen. Besides, no one can enter or leave the city without special authorization. - He replied.

For a moment, everyone stopped and gave attention to the old owner of the stable.

- After the fire, the guard is turning the city upside down. They’re even speaking of a killer on the loose.

Andariel eyes widened and she gulped. The old man looked at them and asked, suspiciously:

- Do you have something to do with it?

- Hey, come on! We’re not going to get anything here, right? – the girl said, dodging the question.

The old man watched them going out. He didn’t actually suspect them actually, but he kept the eyes on them. – In these days, a bit of caution can do no harm– he thought.

- Great! Now we’re stuck in this hole! – Ilyn complained, kicking the pebbles on the ground.

While the others were silent, Andariel exalted:

- Let’s not be discouraged! I know a way to come out on the outside, next to the Woods.

Left with no choices, the adventurers agreed and decided to follow the girl. The path was a tunnel in a disabled well near one of the corners of the city. Quietly, the youngsters removed the wooden boards that covered it and descended through a few metres of an old rusty ladder fixed to the blocks of the inner part of the well. They relied on the girl, even knowing that if they were caught fleeing, the situation would get much worse.

One by one, they came down in that dark hole and turned on the lamp that Rune had brought from the House of Andariel. After some walk in the midst of the rats and a lot of mud, they climbed a ramp of dirt at the end of the tunnel and left on the other side of the walls of Durunthir. They were free.

- Wait! This time we’re going through the roads - said Sofia, fearing the strange forest.

- No! - replied Andariel, worried. - The woods are safe. I can guide you.

The adventurers looked at each other suspiciously. The girl was too jumpy. She seemed uncomfortable. Rune and Sofia thought it was because of her missing brother. Ilyn was sure there was something strange behind that behavior.

- Right. We’re going through the woods anyway. If we travel these roads the guards can question us, isn’t it? – said the thief, looking at the girl before she looked away.

The group entered the forest again. With some luck, they would arrive at night in Eldania. It was a full day’s walk, and it was just getting started.

*

Andarion reached the major city of Eldania on his trusty steed in the dawn. Near the main gate, the flow of travellers who came and got out of town was great. Many people arrived for the big day that would happen within three days. There were wagons, caravans, retinues and many sentries in readiness to maintain security in a critical situation.

Viewing the movement, the rogue decided to leave his friendly horse outside and walked. He dismissed it, thanking the company, and left it there, alone and free to be found. Andarion was no fool. He knew someone could recognize him easily by the horse and his outfit, similar to that of the Durunthir guards. He put his hood and blended into the crowd, walking normally inside the walls of the capital. He realized readily that, like other outsiders, he was constantly under the watchful eyes of the guard.

At the entrance, he went by the old bridge and saw the large statues of the heroes of the past finely carved in marble. - It must have cost a fortune - he laughed to himself, disdaining the pomp and the waste of resources. - Heroes? For whom? – He thought and continued his walk, amidst the hustle and bustle of many people.

Shortly thereafter, the rogue viewed the great symbol of the city portrayed in the estimated brooch his mother gave him. He got it in his pocket and looked at it carefully, suspending it next to the greater symbol, at the entrance. For a moment, his mind got away from there and he envisioned a great carnage. He was alone, in an eerie place, with hands full of blood. A macabre voice disturbed him and accused him.

- You! It was you! Your hands are full of blood - spoke the awful whisper.

A swipe of a walker, a merchant dwarf, who arrived at the city, awakened him from delirium. Upset, the merchant still mumbled by the thief to be standing there, in the middle of the pass. Andarion, with obscure eyes, whispered the name of his mother and continued walking, pulling the pin in hand. The macabre voice, which came from the darkness of his thoughts, guided him to search for the murder in a very specific place: the Royal Palace.

The people started to look repeatedly at the rogue as he passed by. He tried to lower the head and hide even more his face with the hood. Something was wrong. Andarion looked at his arms more closely and noticed them even odder than before. His skin seemed to be flaking and dying. The small scars, which he had gained during his mysterious adventure inside the mines, were becoming dark and ugly. Tense, Andarion walked faster towards the fountain of the Freedom Square.

Upon arriving, he washed his hands and took them to the face, rubbing it. He felt the burning and saw the loose skin, like they were falling apart. He tried to look in the reflection of the fountain waters. His face was dry, aged and slightly darkened. – Oh, my… Maybe I got sick like the guards from the mine? -thought the rogue. - It is not possible, I don’t feel bad.

A grim laugh again manifested in his mind. In a delirium, he saw his face melt in the reflection of the water and become similar of a dead man. He looked at the silver and black ring and put back the hood. He walked away from there fast, trying to remove the cursed artifact.

The ring wouldn’t come out of his finger. It seemed like it was totally linked to him. The band had become part of his flesh, which gradually languished. Andarion entered a corner of an alley and gradually calmed down. His eyes changed again. His mind released from panic and discomfort and focused on what he would do there: revenge. He didn’t know who or how, but he wasn’t anxious. The rogue whispered and went into the tailor’s shop of one of the districts of the city. He needed new clothes to disguise. Gold wasn’t the problem.

- Please, what is the best shirt at the store? – asked Andarion, to the tailor, a tall man with a moustache and thin exotic hair.

-We have elven silk shirts. Various sizes. But if you want, we have cheaper options – replied the tailor, looking at Andarion and judging his financial availability.

- Give me the most expensive. Black – said the rogue, who was looking at a stunning full black leather armor, which was fixed to the wooden dummy. I’m going to try it on too.

- Sir, I’m afraid... - said the tailor, being stopped by the thief.

- I’m going to pay – Andarion retorted, shaking the pouch with the many pieces of the gold stolen from the mansion of Miklos.

- Therefore, my Lord, I will bring help to dress you up - said the tailor, with a snap of his fingers and calling the helpers and the seamstress.

- It is not necessary. I can do it - the rogue replied, gesturing to stop them from getting too close.

Andarion thought he should avoid any kind of comments about his degraded appearance. That’s why he wanted to hide his body as much as possible. Shirt and black armor, long sleeves, high boots. Only a new hood was missing, his old faithful pal.

- Give me also a hood. The same color of the shirt.

- Yes, right away Sir! - replied the tailor, mobilizing the young assistants to find the clothing.

Andarion finished dressing up in one of the alcoves of the shop and paid the man. Almost nothing was left of his possessions, but anyway he didn’t need so much. He knew where to find more, especially in a busy city like Eldania. The rogue abandoned the stolen clothes in a corner of the alcove and left wearing the new ones. He looked like a prince. Those were fine clothes, hand embroidered, with elaborate details. The black suit was also perfect for completely sneaking in at night.

The rogue felt tired. His head weighed, but he was not sleepy. - Fourth day – he thought. – I’ll go to some dark corner to drink a little and wait for the night to come. I can’t draw a lot of attention out there.

*

At the Palace, the atmosphere was quite tense. A raven arrived at dawn, bringing the worst news: Syrma had fallen. There were no great details in the message. The fact was reinforced by comments circulated by caravans and merchants. Those who were coming from that area could see a big smoke cloud and the exodus of people from the Citadel.

The first exiled arrived on horseback. Some chose to take refuge in Eldania, for having relatives, or to try their luck in the rich city. Some also came asking for help. Most of them were members of the clergy and of the guard.

- Impossible! – Thalion shouted, punching the table. - How did the city go down to a bunch of ignorant savages? Where were our defenses?

All saw the angry reaction of the silenced King. There were gathered Alister, Mir, Belthazar and Syrma’s messenger who had reached the Capital in the end of the morning.

-What about Saif and Navi? Did they escape? – asked the King, leaning his forehead on his hand.

- I’m afraid not, Sir. They defended the town till the last man – answered the Messenger, with a voice full of sorrow.

- Hell! How could this happen? – the King cried again, shaking hands. – Someone will pay for it!

- I saw it with my own eyes. A very dense fog shrouded them from the ponds to the walls of the mount. We were heavily outnumbered, physically and technically, Sir!

- Technically? What do you mean? - Belthazar retorted.

- They threw strange jugs, burning as the fires of hell. The walls burned and weakened with that invention. In addition, there was something very strange in that fog. I’ve never seen anything like that – explained the messenger.

- Fire in jars? Fog? At these time and location? This is magic! – argued Belthazar, decreasing the voice, serious, thinking. He, the wisest man of Eldania, knew what he was talking about. Despite this knowledge, he always avoided using the word “magic” to the most restricted circles.

- You also said that they were well equipped - questioned Alister, with curiosity.

- Yes, Sir! Sharp blades and well made armor. In the battle, the beasts seemed to follow a well-made strategy – confirmed the witness of the massacre. – They were not those orkish waste that we’re used to seeing.

Thalion, visibly upset, forgot for a moment about the secret mission that was assigned to Mir. The evening was the deadline. The King did not say anything about this issue, at least not in front of the three:

- Mir! I need you to gather our men and send to Fort Eris. I think one hundred is a good number. We can’t be weakened.

- Yes, Milord! - said the giant.

- Gentlemen! The meeting of the kingdoms knocks is just around the corner! We need to redouble our attention. I want eyes on all outsiders, whether they are Dwarves, Elves or Men. Our best spies will be giving us security – said the monarch.

-Your Majesty, by the way, I would like to ask you about the Oculus – said Belthazar, the Mage.

- Belthazar, it’s not the time - said Thalion, trying to dodge. - Let’s talk about it later.

The silence again was in the room. The curiosity was evident. What was the Oculus? A new trinket prepared by the Arcane Society? Alister became perturbed and looked at Belthazar seriously. Thalion realized and anticipated:

- Well, back to work everybody! We have a busy day ahead of us. Let me know if they have any other news – King said, rising from the table. - Belthazar, come with me.

The King waited for the others leave to begin the talk. He made sure the door was locked and the footstep sounds were gone in the hallway. In the Conference room, just only him and the wise man were left.

- Belthazar, have you gone mad? The Oculus is a secret of the crown!

- Majesty, they don’t even know what it is... – replied the magician, smiling. - Anyway, I think it’s very risky not put it into practice.

The operation was a study commissioned by Thalion to the Arcane Society, where spies were trained to detect suspicious activities around town. These experts, infiltrated in greatly frequented places like the alcoves and chambers of the honored guests of the Alliance, also spread small objects enchanted with magic detection. The initiative had two main objectives: to spy if someone used magic in the city; and ensure the safety of the King and his cohort. Obviously the Oculus could not be revealed, considering that it violated the Treaty.

- All right! Make it happen - confirmed Thalion, opening the door for Belthazar.

Before leaving, Belthazar anticipated with some tension in his voice:

- Majesty, about the spider... We have a conclusive study. It’s a specimen from the depths. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with magic, but some very deep rift.

- Great, Belthazar. Good job! - said the King, leading the wizard out, and ignoring the information.

*

The last rays of sun were hiding, and the lamps were lit on the poles of the city streets. Andarion, sitting at the back of the of Old One-Eyed Tavern, longed to put his work into practice. He thought about it and planned meticulously: he would invade the palace in the dark of the night, in search of the information about his mother.

The thief found that there was a protected chamber guarding secret documents of the Kingdom. It just took a small talk and a gold coin for the tavern owner to release the information. Few people in town knew as much as he did about the gossip and real issues.

Andarion stood up and put his hood. He finished the beer and left a few bucks on the table. He was in a hurry. The sinister voices reverberated in his head inviting to enter the Palace. At that moment, he acted only on impulse and instinct. Next to the front door of the One-Eyed, he ran into a big strong figure, dressed in a black robe.

- Hey! Watch it buddy! – said the big guy.

It was Mir, the Warrior. He was there to meet the adventurers, as arranged. It was the third night since they were sent to the service, and he had no more time to waste: the giant needed to report it to the King. Mir looked at the empty table where he was sitting a few days ago and saw there some coins left by the rogue. He suspect that the adventurers left a portion of the money and fled, but he decided to wait anyway.

Andarion slipped through the darkness of the back alleys of the city. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was the direction of the Palace, judging by the nobles and soldiers leaving the service. Like a black cat, he sneaked around. For the value with which he had acquired the suit, the rogue could imagine that in fact it had magical properties. The darkness mixed itself to the tissue and the small leather cords from his clothes, hugging him.

The rogue saw that the palace was heavily guarded and avoided it, aiming to enter by his side. Even the alleys in its surroundings had the nightly rounds. – It will be impossible from here – he thought.

Looking up, he saw a small cat that licked itself calmly under the moonlight. The rogue smiled slyly and withdrew. He had an idea.

A few meters away, there was a set of houses that were close to the great wall. Andarion edged them, getting to the darker side, and began his ascent. He rose slightly, reaching the roof of a house, jumped onto the balcony of another and then reached the top of it.

In less than a minute, with the help of a few protuberant blocks and woods, the Rogue had reached the edges of the top of the wall. Only a jump was missing.

He jumped out with grace and precision, clinging to the edge of the wall. The rogue lift himself and stood up slowly and quietly, avoiding calling the attention of a guard who was doing his watch there.

- Come on... – he whispered, awaiting the inattention of the sentry.

Realizing that he had turned his back, the rogue jumped inside the wall and strode with dexterity. In a direct hit, he stabbed the guard in the back, while the other hand covered his mouth. Andarion felt the guard’s life bleed out in his cold hands. Another victim had been made.

Again, the ring glowed, drinking the soul of the poor man. Immediately, the rogue felt an invigorating energy through his veins. His body seemed to rejuvenate and recover from the scars and wounds that were besetting.

Immediately, Andarion dragged the guard to the edge of the wall and threw him to the outside of the city. Below, there was a flowing stream, perfect to take the body away. He cleaned his hands and continued. His target was the tower of the Palace that was next to the wall at the end of the walk. No one would have thought that someone dares to jump from there to invade the Royal House. To the rogue, that was the gateway to the heavily guarded area.

He prepared for a few seconds and leaped with faith. One hand almost escaped, but he recovered and grabbed tight the edge of the balcony of the tower. The rogue climbed and jumped to the small balcony, where he was facing a beautiful and well-crafted wooden door. The lock offered no resistance after being bypassed easily by the ability of the young with the hooks kept in his small purse. Andarion was inside the Palace. Now it was enough to find the right place.

In a hurry, the thief went down two sets of stairs in the dark, and saw an open door. He passed normally through it, as if he knew the palace like the back of their hands. He didn’t look lost or surprised. The evil voice was driving the rogue exactly where it should go. When he reached a corner with a great hall, the rogue saw a watching guard in front of a door. Andarion had the premonition that that was what he was looking for.

Shrewdly, he searched his pocket and grabbed the last gold coin that was there. The rogue threw it in the Hall, drawing the attention of the sentry. Quickly, Andarion sneaked out of sight, awaiting him in the corner. He waited until the guard came through the corridors, and at the right time, jumped at his flank. Silently and deadly, the rogue cut the throat of the guard with his sharp dagger.

Like a shadow, the rogue took the keys from the victim’s body and also the coin on the floor.

- Piece of cake... - he thought, while strained his hand and watched the macabre ring complete its service.

After trying a few keys, the murderer opened the heavy door. He pushed it and saw in his front a small room with many shelves and file drawers. There was also a large table with many scattered documents, some stacked, tied with a string. The room smelled like mold. There was a lot to search in these decades-old (or maybe centuries-old) with parchments.

Incursions, raids, tax records, lists of goods confiscated and seized. A real chaos. The rogue, after snooping around some very important documents, cast the eyes on a drawer full of old documents organized by year. - It’s over there! - He thought, as the voice suggested.

His eyes were guided to a red leather folder. He picked it up and saw that the records were corresponding to the year of the death of his mother. The rogue flipped through them, flustered. His expression changed: surprise, agony and restlessness. He saw letters with his mother handwriting and some others, unknown. He quietly began to read the texts, chronologically:

“Dear Thalion,

I don’t know when we shall meet again. Your secret is kept with me, but we’re having difficulties. It’s not about me, but rather about our son.”

Andarion stopped reading, shocked. - Son?! It is not possible! – he spoke to himself.

Disturbed, he felt dizzy and moved his hand to the face. His heart was pounding, and he was sweating. He did know that the father of his half-sister, Andariel, had disappeared, shortly before his mother conceived it. Andarion was small and remembered him: a soldier from Durunthir, not exactly an example of a great man. He lived in taverns, gambling and meeting other women. In great debt and with a taste for booze he followed his destiny. But, the rogue’s father, so far, was a mystery.

He continued searching the red folder. Andarion found other letters signed by Thalion without the royal seal. They were letters of kindness, love and affection. He was sure they were hidden somewhere in his house. Now they were there, in his hands. Everything started to make sense: someone had stolen it. The thief remembered the gaiters of the soldier who entered his house, while he was hiding under a bed. His mother knew the risk. The man who killed her was the same that had taken the evidence of the affair of the King with the commoner.

Andarion grew angrier as he read more letters. Over time, they turned from love to tension and threat. Something had changed. His mother wanted the monarch to recognize the child or at least give him the resources he deserved. Thalion refused. None of that could go public. After several letters without any response from him, one last ordered:

“Mir,

Elena should pay for the crimes of conspiracy and betrayal. The location of her residence was given secretly to the one responsible for the implementation. I ask absolute secrecy about the matter.

Cordially,

Thalion Thorengard”

Tears washed the face of the rogue while he finished reading. His mother had been murdered by the man who would be responsible for protecting him as King, and as a father. All those difficulties were in vain.

-She wanted only what was rightfully mine... - whispered Andarion between his teeth.

A deadly hatred burned into his heart. The voice inside his head snickered and laughed while he stumbled, confused, trying to get out of there.

Andarion looked at the body of his latest victim on the floor and said:

That’s what I became. A killer. This is the gods’ will.

He closed his hand and looked at the black ring, which emitted a burning aura of pure anger and hate. He could hear the voices and whispers of the ghoulish and countless dead wanderers. Those were the souls of all those that the Rogue had killed and many others who once possessed the ring. The ominous voice cried out from the darkness hunger for more souls. The next would have to be special.

The killer smiled devilishly and murmured:

Dad, I’m coming home!