Embers of Hope Chapter I: Journey to the South

Zaradanoric sat up quickly in bed his chest hurting and his brow sweaty. As he gasped for breath he realized that it was the same dream that had plagued him for nearly 15 years. He relived the flight almost every night and this was no different. He strode over to the dormitory window and looked out upon Esteldin’s inner court trying to settle his heart.

Deciding that sitting there wouldn’t work, Zaradanoric donned his armor over his large frame and grabbed his two-handed sword. It was a marvelous sword built upon his father’s sword hilt. It was about a meter long and sharper than a razor. He padded downstairs as quietly as he could and walked to the training dummies. He began to attack in a basic manner as he had been taught. As he went, he made it more complex adding in well placed strikes.

After he finished his routine, he went to the wall tops to watch the sun rise. In his musings he did not hear his cousin Madros mount the wall and sit beside him.

Zaradanoric jumped in shock when his cousin spoke, “You are not fit for this life kinsman.” Madros paused and snorted at his cousin’s shock. “You don’t even have the awareness to be a Ranger. Last night the elders met and we decided that you should go south to Archet and find someone to train you in different combat. They are going to send you off tomorrow with Jon Brackenbrook’s hunting party. While you are there maybe you can make a name for yourself and excel better then we can train you.”

“That sounds fine cousin. I think it will do me well. I shall make my way back to talk to you at some point. But you are right and I feel it. I have a different destiny.”

With that Zaradanoric got up and went about his day. He cleaned his gear and packed his things. Near lunchtime Zaradanoric was summoned before the elders and told what Madros told him. He would be sent to Archet but he would first stop at Trestlebridge to meet with Jon Brackenbrook’s hunting party.

Zaradanoric mounted his horse after the briefing and began the long ride to Trestlebridge. While he rode, Zaradanoric though of what was happening. He was leaving his home of fifteen years to go abroad to a new place. He wished that he had time to bid farewell to Barain but Othrikar was a day’s journey away. The dwarves who had rescued the two from the woods had considered him one of their own but as the years passed many of them departed for different places.

Near evening Zaradanoric had reached the outpost of Amon Raith. As he mounted the steps he heard an unearthly howl from the fields below him. At the top of the platform several heavily armed rangers sat at the top on alert. He peaked at the fields below but found that they were shrouded in a fog that felt very evil.

“What aroused this evil?” He whispered to the nearest Ranger. “I knew that foul things had begun to raise themselves but what is this madness?”

“Barghests and spirits haunt the mists. This mist had come for some time but a few months ago barghests began to walk the moors. Now we can no longer reach Evendim through the gap. But the spirits. Those are new. They awoke only a night ago.” The Ranger swept his glance around and resumed his thought. “They come from the ancient city to the north. I fear that evil much stronger than what we normally face. I fear this may come from Angmar.”

The moment that name exited the ranger’s mouth; Zaradanoric felt a foul chill on his spine. Then he replied, “Should I stay the night here or continue to Trestlebridge with haste?”

“Hurry with haste! The urge to stay and help us is noble but fly and send news while there is still time! We will be fine, a rider was sent to Othrikar not an hour ago.”

Zaradanoric crept back down the stairs and mounted his skittish steed. This time he urged his mount faster out of desperation. By sunrise Zaradanoric had the great bridge in view. He urged his exhausted steed forward and began the final part of his trek. As he thundered over the bridge and to the guardhouse, he saw very few people out and about.

He clumsily dismounted his steed and staggered towards the guardhouse. As he opened the door and sat on the floor in front of the fire some of the guards awoke.

“Hail friend, what is your name and what news do you bring?” One guard asked him.

“I am Zaradanoric kin of the Rangers. I am to meet Jon Brackenbrook’s hunting party here this evening. But on my travel I was made aware of trouble. Evil spirits and barghests have risen on the Fields of Fornost. Evil is afoot.”

One of the younger guardsmen scoffed but was hushed by a glare from his elder. The watch chief stepped forward. “I am the watch chief here. You say you are sure that you heard these things?”

Zaradanoric nodded in response and the chief continued speaking, “then you bring us grim tidings indeed. For orcs and goblins of a stronger variety have begun to invade the Nan Watheren gorge again. I will inform the council but you rest and we will wake you when the hunting party arrives.”

Zaradanoric nodded and lay down on the floor away from the fire. As he drifted off to sleep the other guardsmen whispered behind him. “Look at him. He is sleeping in his armor and on the floor he must be crazy or tough as nails.” Zaradanoric chuckled to himself and drifted off to sleep.