The Glyphs Chapter 1, a fairy tales fanfic

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The Glyphs – Draft 5 – Kris Mills

Beginnings

Chapter 1

So many memories. So many things to sort through, so many answers that I need!

His head jerked a little bit as he came back to reality. Glenneth Xershies looked up from his daydreams, and glanced down to the food that he had been eating. It was pork from a wild bore that he had trapped and killed earlier.

What a pointless life that animal had. To feed me. What a life for all animals, which must be killed in the end. Cruelty. That's all that is embodied in this world, and alas, I am part of it.

Looking across the clearing above the tree line he saw the sun was almost at it's highest point. Little before noon, he thought. He stood up, and put out his little cooking fire that he had created. As he put the rest of the pork into one of his satchels, the memories flooded at him again.

It was such a long time ago… A long time ago since I last slept. It was the night before it happened. The king…

He snapped out of his ever-hated memories. How he longed to forget what happened that fateful day over two and a half millennia ago. The curse he bore. How many times he wished he'd be killed, for he can not die naturally. The only way for him to die was to be killed in combat. But he still had a mission

Glenneth Xershies stood with a tremendous stature. He was nearly seven foot tall. He wore a very dark gray, nearly black, full body robe that kept his face shadowed. The robe concealed a light, but incredibly strong set of armor. A chest length gray beard flowed out of the shadows of the hood. A slight yellow gleam could be seen from within the hood; his eyes. He stood with the bent arch in his back that resembled a man of extremely old age, and he carried a walking stick. This walking stick, and even the man's apparent weak form were not what they seemed. Xershies was a man of great strength, and fighting ability. He knew a vast amount of spells, and had mastered many a high level spell.

Hanging loosely at his left was a sheathed sword. This sword, called the Masatma, was a sword made especially for him by the greatest weapon crafter in the world. A material had been grafted into the center of the blade, and of the holt. This material was a special ability amplifying material. As Xershies was injured in battle, the sword magically gained power, and sharpness. It was a double-edged broadsword. It looked much to big for a man of his age to be carrying. The holt of the sword was entwined with a gold, and bronze. The head of a dragon was at the bottom, protruding outward, as if biting at his enemies.

Across his back hung a shield. A smaller shield than some would expect. Resembling an arm-based bangle, it had a spot on the back for his left hand to fit perfectly. This shield was also one grafted with that material, and hand crafted by the same master blacksmith. The powers endowed to this armament also had ability enhancing techniques. The more Xershies was harmed, the larger a magical radius would extend from the rounded sides of the shield. This magical barrier blocked blows from physical weaponry and even magical spells. Most of the time, however, Xershies did not have to get to that point. The crest on the shield was that of a dragon, full bodied and flying. The dragon was carrying in its frontal claw the figure of a man.

His walking stick was perhaps the most peculiar weapon he possessed. The long, slender oak stick was stained a dark red, from the ashes and blood of past battles. Across the top was a dragon claw, pointing upward, and within its grasp was the last piece of the material that had been found by Xershies. This, however, he had crafted himself. He was in need of a special power. Only he knew what this power needed to be. He could not sleep. For two millennia he hadn't slept a wink. This ability was denied him when the curse was placed. His staff had a magical ability to sustain his energy. Without being able to sleep, this was the only mode for his body to rejuvenate. Once he thrust his staff into the ground, it not only reenergized him, but it would also block out all magical spells for about a ten meter radius. This had its advantages, as well as its disadvantages. Xershies was completely protected from magic spells, but in return, could not cast any himself.

His thought's had left him again, and Xershies had finished packing up. He turned to continue his journey.

It was a bright, humid, and hot summer day in the northern areas of Weilm. Despite the heat, Xershies showed no sign of sweating. This specific area was a very mountainous region. It was hard to reach for most people. However, that fact hadn't stopped miners from founding towns throughout the mountain ranges to dig for the mountains' wealth of minerals, and precious metals. Several towns and inns had been founded over the years; perhaps the most notable being Parthos. This town sat at the northern edge of the continent, and was near the fabled Glyphs.

Xershies was headed through Reynard forest which would take him to his destination for the night, Reynard Village. The forest was thin enough for plenty of day light to reach through. Xershies knew these areas well, for he had been here many times before. As he walked, his mind was wandering as fast as he was.

Only flashes… A king… A shadow… screams… Drake… his father…

His father…

The image of his father came to his mind. A very strong man, he was trained in the King's army. He had a black beard, and Xershies watched it as it flowed in the winds as his father fought a guard. He was training the guard, and training him well.

Flashes… Castle… explosions… that day… that fateful day…

His most painful memory…

Xershies was young, perhaps a toddler, he couldn't remember. He was in his front yard playing with a toy. His house was near the base of the Duvey mountains. The memory that followed came in quick flashes….

His father running toward him.

Flash.

He lent down. Gave Xershies something with a name, he couldn't tell what it was.

Flash.

Told him to run. And run hard. Xershies didn't understand. Why can't dad go too? Xershies stood up, and began to run.

Flash.

He turned in time to see his father charge toward the mountain. Nothing was there.

Flash.

The mountain wasn't bare anymore. It had things. Shadows, nothing more.

Flash.

What Xershies saw horrified him, and his memories left him in a cold sweat, yet again. He was pained with memories like these every second of every day. He hated them, but they wouldn't leave him. They would never leave him. Not until he had completed his mission.

He had been wandering those two millennia attempting to complete a mission that he thought was impossible. He searched in vain for members of a chosen group that needed to be assembled to help him in his fight. For two millennia he had failed. However, a curious new vision had been seeping into his memories. One that he had not witnessed and that he hoped to God had not occurred yet. This mission is what had prompted him to the northern reaches in the first place. His hope had returned.

He continued walking through Reynard forest, constantly keeping a keen sense of his surroundings. From time to time he would hear a crack, or a howl. His stride was long, and very fast paced. He could cover a great distance on foot very quickly. He again drifted into memories, but good ones. Memories of his mother, his only refuge of happiness. Though short and faint, he cherished these rare moments when one would come to his mind, and he watched as his mother came up to him, and pat him on the head. For some reason, when she did so, he felt a pain. Not in his head, but on his left leg.

He came to, and looked downward. A gash had been cut through his robes, and into his shin. The deep wound had quickly healed over, but the blood was still evident, and dripping. He glanced up, and saw the figure of an adult lycanthrope. Angered, he thrust the staff downward and equipped his sword and shield with unnatural speed. The wolf-man charged him, and aimed a bite at Xershies throat. The beast leapt forward, only to be surprised when Xershies dodged the attack, and thrust his sword upward. The animal didn't feel anything, and when it tried to make a second leap, it couldn't. Xershies just turned, grabbed his staff, and walked away. He had cut the beast in half as it passed his face. The move was made so fast, and so powerful, that the animal hadn't noticed it at all. Xershies glanced toward the blade and allowed the blood to drip off unnaturally fast before re-sheathing it.

Yet another pointless life.

He quickened his pace now, trying to get to the town before the break of twilight. At this moment, his figure looked not like an old man, but like that of a young, vibrant man. His thoughts mulled over the importance of the mission he had, and his frustration with not being able to complete it.

So, how to go about this mission? It's been over two thousand years, and I have yet to find those certain few. Even after I find them, can I end the curse on my life? I hope so…

He walked without thinking for a couple more hours into the night. A few animals had attacked him, with all ending in the animal's death. Xershies had only ever been defeated in battle once, a memory that he kept locked far away in his head. He came near to Reynard, and could see the lights of the town.

Almost there. I wonder if I will find them here. I certainly hope so. How wondrous would it be to finally get all this started. It's been so long. So long...

The village of Reynard was set on the north eastern edge of Reynard forest. The river Lomin flowed through Duvey mountains in the east, and into the Rankin woods. It's path flowed just between Xershies and Reynard, and into Reynard forest. Xershies knew that the river flowed all the way to the southernmost part of the continent.

The bridge crossing the Lomin river was rather wide; it had to accommodate the mineral carts coming from the Duvey mountains. Xershies made his way across the bridge, and into Reynard. Twilight had broken a few short minutes ago.

The village of Reynard wasn't exactly a bustling area. People there tended to be pretty mild mannered. Xershies was surprised to see a group of people running frantically around near the inn. It was a small group of women screaming at the top of their lungs. Perplexed, Xershies hobbled forward, his long black cloak flowing in the gentle breeze.

As he neared the screaming women, a burst of sound rather like cannon fire sounded from a second story window.

What in the…

He began to run toward the inn, looking, again, like a man in his prime years. The women were still screaming, and as Xershies neared, they focused their attention on him.

""Help us! Help us now," came a panicked scream.

"What's wrong, good mistresses?"

"There's a man! He's raiding the town! Our men can't stop him; he has some sort of new hand cannon!"

Xershies glanced up toward the window that he had heard the shot come out of. He ran over to the dilapidated building, and heard a second shot being fired. He ran into the inn, and made his way to the upper levels where he had heard the shot. When he arrived, he found a man with the hand cannon to his head. The holder of the hand cannon had an evil smile on his face. Two bodies laid, bloody pools surrounding them, on the floor. Xershies had faced situations like this before, and it was hardly difficult, nor out of the ordinary. Only one word came to Xershies mind.

"Petrify"

Cool, and calm, Xershies had uttered the words to an ancient spell which he had used many times before. Instantly, the man with the cannon turned to stone. The figure still had the evil snicker on his pudgy face. Xershies looked into the eyes of the scared hostage. He was a somewhat heavy man, and had the air of drinking heavily. He looked up at Xershies with a frightened look in his eyes.

Tigo was a short and somewhat stocky man. He had short black hair, and hairy arms. His arms were roughly the thickness of Xershies' thigh. Despite the flabby looking arms, he possessed great strength. While not particularly agile, he was more than able to hold his own in a fight. Hung at his waist were two sheathed daggers, and across his back were two more. Two more, still, were concealed in either of his boots. Tigo specialized not in frontal combat, but in stealth. He could move surprisingly quiet for his size. He stood and faced Xershies with a bright look in his half drunken eyes.

"Thank you! Thank you for helping me! My name is Tigo, I just stopped in to get a drink, when this guy ran in and tried to loot the place," as he said that, he rubbed his neck. The thief had rammed the butt of the cannon into the back of his neck," I got up and tried to stop him, but he pointed that hand cannon at me and grabbed me around the neck. It still hurts."

While Tigo had been speaking, a large crowd had gathered into the room, and the adjacent hallway to see what had happened, and to see the man with the new, and deadly, technology.

"Seems we've drawn a crowd. Anyway my name is Xershies. I was passing by the town, when some women ran up to me and told me what had happened."

"Yeah thanks again for your help. Let's go to the bar, and have a drink, on me."

"Sure, I was thinking about resting up here tonight anyway. But first, let's take care of him," Xershies gestured toward the stone figure of the man. Both men chuckled to themselves.

The two of them grabbed the stone man by the arms, and carried him down into the front room of the inn. He was no longer of any problem to the group. Xershies spoke with a man in the bar, and had him run to get the local authorities. The others in the inn had been told by Xershies to stay out of the room the murders had happened in.

Tigo, and Xershies made their way to the bar area of the lobby. They found a seat at a small table in the corner of the room. The bar and the inn began to populate again, as people returned. The two ordered drinks and talked for a while. It was mainly small talk, but Xershies was already thinking to himself.

What if this is one of them? For some reason, he looks like one. I can tell he also has a good control of magic, and great skill with knives. I wonder…

Xershies thought a little while longer, and then began to ask Tigo some very important questions.

"Tigo, how much skill do you have with magic and blades?"

Tigo, who had been taking a drink, glanced up, "Well, certainly a little bit. I have good skill with both, or, rather, what I would consider good. I am also quite experienced with a bow, though I don't have one myself."

The authorities showed up, and they asked Xershies what had happened. He explained to them the situation, and offered to help. The men, along with Tigo and Xershies, went up to the room and carried the two bodies downstairs. A wagon was brought to take the men to the local cemetery, and the authorities left with it. Xershies and Tigo went back to their drinks. They continued talking, all the while Xershies listening for some clue as to the possibility of Tigo's connection to himself. When one didn't come, Xershies was disappointed.

"Well, Xershies," Tigo said with a large yawn, "it's late, and I think that I am going to head to my room."

"Alright, but one more thing before the night is over. Let me take a glance at your hand."

This confused Tigo slightly, but nevertheless he gave Xershies his hand. Xershies was thinking hopefully to himself, hoping that some sign would show… When nothing happened, Xershies uttered a quite curse word before suddenly remembering. He began to mutter something under his breath, something Tigo couldn't understand. All of the sudden there was a searing pain in his right shoulder blade. Tigo yelled and pulled his hand from Xershies' grip.

"What did you do to me?" Tigo yelled, rubbing his shoulder blade hard. Tears began to fall from his eyes.

"I did nothing but bring out your true identity, look at it."
Tigo had a tough time looking over to his shoulder, but did get to see it. He saw a royal crest. A shield, quartered, with a sword down the middle. It was red, and not larger than a large coin. It also had the shape of a dragon in the background; full bodied and flying, carrying a man in his frontal claws.

"What is that?" he asked Xershies.

"It is a royal crest of a kingdom and her knights. You, my friend, follow the bloodline of it's knights. I have need of you, but first, let us get some rest. I'll explain more later." Xershies was very pleased to have finally found one his group of warriors that he had spent so many years searching for. He only hoped the Tigo would believe him, and follow.

Tigo was a little set aback, and tried to ask Xershies why he was needed, but Xershies was already walking up to his room. Tigo got up, paid their tab, and walked toward his room.

(Crest)

A few minutes later, Xershies was walking up the stairs and into his room. His thoughts were racing madly. Happiness, and joy, followed directly by the memories that he hated. He had finally found one of the nine. So many years spent waiting, and now finally he could begin. Xershies walked into his room, and set his equipment down. He set the staff up against a wall so that he could begin his nightly reenergizing ritual. He walked over to the window, and glanced out. Staring him in the face was the Lomin river flowing from the distant Duvey mountains. The beauty of it astounded him. His body felt mentally tired, though he knew his body wasn't. Xershies wafted between reality, and day dreaming. His eyes glazed over and his head felt weary. This was the time of day he hated, and yet loved, the most. The memories were coming in again, this time in full force. His mind went between memories, and then stopped on a particular one. One that has been in his head many times since that day. This time, there were no flashes…

It was a time when he was a young lad. It was mid-afternoon, and he was playing in his front yard with a small stick. His dog came running over toward him, and tried to grab the stick he was holding. Xershies laughed and rose to his feet. Laughing, he started chasing his dog around the yard. His father was in the distance, in their field. Xershies tripped over a tree root, and laughed even harder. He loved these times. These times were happy ones. As he was getting up again, his father came running full speed from the field. His dog jumped up, and licked Xershies in the face. His father neared Xershies. He couldn't make out the face of his dad, it was just a dark blur. Xershies was too young to remember. Behind his father was a large mountain range, something black and cloudy was pouring over the top. This cloud was traveling very quickly. Xershies father glanced in the direction Xershies was looking, and then back to his son.

"Here son, take this…"

He handed Xershies a small dagger with a name engraved on the side of it. Xershies was confused. He felt a deep feeling of sorrow, and glanced at his dad. His father was already walking toward their house, and in the distance Xershies could see the cloud approaching very quickly.

"Glenneth run… RUN NOW!"

Xershies hesitated for a moment before glancing behind his father at the cloud. He ran as hard as he could in the opposite direction. Once he neared the tree line of the forest, Reynard Forest, he turned around in time to see the most horrific scene his mind can remember…

"The dark skies rain evil and remorse," Xershies unwillingly muttered. Xershies' consciousness gradually came back to his small room, in the small town Reynard that had been his home so long ago. He was shaking madly, and was very cold. He glanced around, regaining his composure, and sat down on his bed. He wished he could remove those memories, but to no avail. He also wished he knew a spell to relieve headaches. Xershies continued to set there on his bed, repeating the phrase, knowing it had some greater importance. He was also intrigued by the fact that he had never heard it before in his life…

The dark skies rain evil and remorse…

"Excuse me? What was that Xershies?"

Xershies trance had been broken by Tigo. He had knocked quietly, and entered. With great difficulty, Xershies pulled his gaze back from the window. It was late at night now; he had been in the trance longer than he had thought. He glanced around at Tigo. Xershies' eyes were glowing a yellowish brown.
"Tigo, will you come with me? I warn you though, that while I will be able to teach you a little magic and swordplay, the trip I am on will be a dangerous one. However, I find that you will be a much needed asset to me. May I ask, did you come from the Academy?" Xershies was glancing at Tigo with the same blank stare, almost like a hollow body not actually speaking.

"Why yes, I did," Tigo answered, slightly bemused.
"Great. You will be a great asset in deed. Get some rest tonight, we will be heading out in the morning."

Tigo left the room, and stood in front of the door for a long time. He didn't know what to think of the very strange old man in the other room. How could he possibly know anything about magic, or fighting? He had to be a very weak man.

What a strange man, he thought, that Xershies. But possibly strong. I hope he can teach me a few things.

(crest)

Xershies sat for a while, knowing that Tigo was right outside his room. When Xershies knew that Tigo had finally gone to bed, he walked out of his room and down the stairs. The pub tender was still there, cleaning glasses. Only one other person was there, and he was drunk. Xershies walked toward the exit, and lit his pipe. It was late at night now, and he was free to think. He thought back to the time when he was a young warrior.

He was in His Majesty's court. King Ferdinand. This kingdom was actually much less than a kingdom. It was a hole in the side of a mountain. The kingdom had to take refuge from the dark force. If they stepped out ill-prepared, they would be whisked away and killed. Xershies remembered his many friends that had lost their lives to the unexplainable darkness. He had been training for two years; however he was showing no progress.
Xershies' thoughts then moved to the day he met Drake. Drake was an excellent swordsman. He was a rogue fighter that had shown up in the mountain refuge one day. Xershies was amazed. Anyone that could make the journey from one refuge to the next, in the open darkness, must be a strong fighter. Stronger than any training there.
Drake took it upon himself to raise the soldiers into experienced fighters. He was one of the few friends Xershies had. Through Drake's one on one leadership, Xershies was transformed into a great fighter.

(crest)

Morning broke. The rooster cried. Xershies came out of his dream-like state, to find his pipe out and his staff fallen over. While not actually asleep, this was his favorite time. When he was allowed to recharge freely. He continued in this state until Tigo walked out into the clearing just outside the inn.
"Xershies! Are you ready to go yet?"

"Yes, I am. Are you ready for a long and trying journey?"
Tigo hesitated a little bit before answering," Most certainly!"
"Ok. This quest has an importance beyond your current capacity to believe, but I assure you that you will be much needed. I will tell you some more as we continue. Follow me."

The two quickly shook hands, and walked side by side into the rising sun.