The Lost Balance
By, Andrew Brittin
I do not know where my thoughts began. A thousand years ago? No. Before that! And now. Now my time is up. My thoughts are becoming meshed within another and I have let an adversary start gaining more control. The Balance is offset. Me being here does nothing. And yet. a replacement for me hasn't shown, the ceremony cannot take place. I am worthless to these people. So be that as it may I will not give up my powers to anyone. They will work for them.
Prologue: A Call to Summon
"I left Liskin two moons ago. I slept not and my lute is my only companion from the insanities of the night. I feel tortured. Am I insane for coming here? Or perhaps it's Dardimir's influence that draws me. How many months now? Three? Four? I'm not sure anymore. Northern Urthan however is beautiful. I enjoy its scenery. It inspires me. The fire is cold. My eyelids are heavy and my fingers sore from strumming my faithful lute for so many hours. Dardimus, why do I listen you? Is your charisma that sickening?"
Excerpts from Kirmus' Journal
A darkened soul's footsteps passed the barriers of the abandoned shrine. Kirmus. The bardic druid from the southern lands of Urthan walked quietly through the battered hallways and twisted rooms seeking. His cape fluttered lightly from a breeze of a beaten window, the outside air fresh and sweet of herbs that grew on the crumbling walls. "Dardimir!" He called, the sound echoing off the walls. "Dardimir! I know you're here you crazy fool!" "Quit your yelling." The middle-aged monk said, his body now standing next to Kirmus. "Your voice travels further than the rankin's wings will allow them to fly." His hand rubbed the side of his face, the scruff of a week's growth of hair itching his palm. Kirmus lowered his voice, whispering. "You're the one that called me from the southlands to the northern boarder. I've spent over four months getting here." The tall lanky man took a seat on one of the remaining undamaged chairs; the folds of his cloak and the garb he had fitted himself in hid his weaknesses well. The room laid in chaotic ruin. The only standing items were a large wooden table, simply made with it's legs crossing at the bottom, a bookshelf that proudly held many magical tomes of Dardimir's liking, and a few rotting chairs. "Bloodywinkle!" The call of an unknown voice startled Kirmus as she shifted in his chair to face the direction the voice came. "Four weeks! A full month! And for what? A tattered shrine that's good for nothin' anymore. Been looted all." Dardimir's brows frowned, his wrinkled forehead collapsing slightly over his old gray-green eyes. "I hate the name. Bloodywinkle." His walking stick slammed on the ground, a bright yellow and orange spark coming from it and ghostly smoke rising up ever the more ominously, the cloud condensing and a female figure clad in full steel armor appearing. "Take care of our loud mouth guest please." Kirmus stood. "You're not going to kill him, are you Dardimir?" He reached back for a long bow that sat on his back with a quiver of poison arrows and a lavishly decorated lute. "Bah! Kill him? No. Frighten him, hurt him and maul him. Perhaps." The women had disappeared out of the small office-like room and into the hallways to silence the 'guest'. "He's strong enough to take it. The young and sprite hearted Garm, that is." "That damnable barbarian? Why is he here?" Kirmus' voice stung with anger. "Because. I have use of you and Garm. And a few others." The old man walked over to a chair that sat in the corner, and plopped himself down in, giving a sigh of relief for being off his feet. "You were the first to arrive. I sent out invitations so you would all arrive on the same day. Four of you, here: Kirmus, the Bard, fallen druid, keeper of the darkness. Garm, the barbarian, keeper of Hatred." "Rika and Farth." Kirmus mouthed, his eyes shunning. "Very good, Kirmus, I wouldn't expect less from you. Rika, sorceress, the keeper of Chaos, and Farth, the rogue, keeper of corruption; you four I will need in aiding of my task." The monk's voice was slow, like he was near death. Such as he always did, thinking each word he used over and over before he spilt it out into a slow moving stream of a conversation. "That women? Was she Rika?" He heard Garm's voice as the women confronted him. "I doubt she'd call up on a summon like that." Dardimir chuckled loudly. "If I had called Rika like that she would have my head! Not even my faith would've saved me then. She's a cruel mistress. But they should be arriving within the hour." "Is there, perhaps in your ungodly kindness, a place I can rest? I've been walking straight since Liskin. A three day trudge let me tell you!" The satchel that was swung across his shoulders moved-uneasily-and settled again. "I have myself a heavy load." "Yes, yes. Go out this room and to the right. Down the long corridor-at the end-you'll find a room. Use it." Without another word, Kirmus stood and walked out of the room, his heavy cloth covered legs carrying him proudly. Down the corridor, and into the vacant room, Kirmus started to take things from his back. The satchel first, which was thrown carelessly onto the dust covered bed-it's filth flying up in a cloud. He quietly took the long bow-one that had been given to him by way of a noble merchant after he had slaughtered the man-and set it carefully against the wall, afraid, deep down, that the stone gray wall would collapse. Lastly, the lavishly decorated lute; he ran his fingers across the strings, the notes clear and traveled through the air for quite a distance on the edge of the forest. He hummed, the rest of the song, murmured a few words from the ancient tale of Balance and finally laid the lute to rest propping against an old wooden chair. Am I. Evil? Keeper of Darkness. Yes. I am.
"Rika!" Dardimir called out. "Rika, welcome. It has been a while yes?" "Four years. Yes. Dardimir, your age amazes me. You have yet to look any older from the time I saw you last." The human shrugged off her heavy sack and before it could land on the cold ground with a heavy thud, she had already found herself a seat on the same chair Kirmus had just sat in only half an hour ago. "So, why did you call me? It's not often a monk in the middle of nowhere sends me a letter when he knows how to contact me through magic. Or did you forget you old man?" She mused at her questions contently as she watched Dardimir's face take a confused looking. "You're not the only one I called Rika. Only one of four. You remember them, I would hope, yes? The four Keepers. The ones of the bloodline who served the Dark Lord, Rize, before his death so many thousand years ago." "I know my status, old man. And I know of those you speak. Who is still yet to show?" She crossed her legs, sitting straight. "Farth is the only one. I was tempted to not call the halfling." Dardimir got to his feet, grabbing an old half-smoked pipe from the ledge of the bookcase and placed in his mouth. "Would you mind?" He asked Rika sighed, "My powers are being wasted on you." She whispered quietly and placed a finger on the pipes contents and they combusted quickly. "Where is Garm and Kirmus? You said they were here?" "Yes. Kirmus is in the room down the hall, probably sleeping, though he had started to play the Tale of the Balance. Very pretty melody. But he stopped. So I think he's asleep." The man took a long, deep puff on his pipe before he continued-Rika waiting quietly. "As for Garm. I sent a ghast after him for he called me by the name I detest. He is surely lying somewhere sleeping as well." Rika stood, shaking her head. You have a way of putting people to sleep. I should check on Garm. He's the funniest damn barbarian dwarf I've ever seen-and sadly I've seen to many." She walked on; back the way she had came, leaving her bag where it lay. She came upon the passed out Garm out side-around back from the main entrance. The ghast had merely drugged him, it seemed as he lay there unconsciously smiling. A molded steel plate with an etched mini-mural of the fight between the Great Sorcerers and Rize lay across his chest- strapped on by leather straps-was almost all that protected him from anything, save the buckler, the knee-high steel covered boots and his unusually large hand axe that was stained with blood and glowed eerily. "Garm!" Rika yelled incessantly "Wake up you dumbass! It's time to get up!" She brought her foot back and kicked him hard in the ribs. "Wake up!" "Don't kill me." The dwarf groaned, one open eye looking at her. "What yah want?" "I'm gathering up the waste around here to take to Dardimir. Meet him in his study." Rika turned, walking back to the front of the shrine, studying the grassland that extended for unseen miles, a thick forest behind.
Kirmus strum lightly on his lute, humming a tune, and putting words to it mentally, sitting in the chair that it seemed everyone wished to use that day. Dardimir stood, smoking his pipe calmly, his old face glowing from the embers with each puff. Rika sat on the floor and pulled her sack forward, pulling out an old book The Balanced Black about acceptable dark magic-none of the fun stuff Rika had found. She knew Kala didn't care about limitations. She passed most of them so quickly no one could complain. But even though Rika was evil, she still wanted to be accepted in society, so she followed the basic of rules. Garm stumbled in shortly after Rika had started reading, the stunt dwarf rubbing his ribs that had met Rika's foot only moments earlier. "Do we got any ale?" he asked. "No. This is not a drinking house nor a social gathering." Dardimir tapped his pipe on the dwarf's head. "We're waiting for Farth to show." "That cheat! How could you want him?" He sputtered, hopping up on the large round table. "'Cause I'm a good kind've halfing, that's for sure!" A small voice said-no one knowing where from but everyone knew who it was. "Sorry to've kept you waiting! I got caught up with some big folk about three days ago. Got me some money, and a jail ticket, then lost me money and it's been hell since! What is a good little thief like me supposed to do without some coin in my purse?" "Sneaky little runt." Rika murmured as she quickly checked over everything in her bag. "You didn't take any of our stuff did you? I'd fry you up so quick you wouldn't know you were even dead." "Sounds pleasant to me! Much better than the slow and painful stuff." Farth laughed as he came out from behind the bookcase that couldn't have possibly have had enough room for him. "I didn't steal yer stuff, nor Kirmus' or Garm's stuff either. I don't steal from brethren." Dardimir stepped forward his voice unusually loud for the soft-spoken Monk. "Everyone! I'm glad you have all been able to make it, but I ask you save the pleasantries for after I'm done. We have some urgent things to take care of." "Like?" Farth said, hopping up next to Garm, leaning over and whispering: "I like being next to someone more my size. Makes me feel better." He winked. "I'm getting to that." Dardimir glared at Farth, his fisted knuckles turning white. "You all know of the Guardian. We all know of your pasts, heritage and your connections to one another. You've been sent on many quests via my order. But you have never been sent on a journey." Farth raised his hand. "Difference, sir?" "The difference, Farth, is that a journey can and probably will take your life time to complete. It's a fetching errand, of sorts. The guardian has left his thrown within his realm-no one can find or sense him anywhere. However he left us with a few notes, a few thoughts." He paused, looking at each member in turn, mentally surveying their skills. "We believe there are numerous. artifacts in which holds the remains of the Guardian. Each bestowing the power of part of himself upon the holder of the artifact. I am asking the most powerful students I have ever laid eyes upon to retrieves these for me." "Are they to be in Urthan?" Garm asked quietly. "Does the Guardian only reign over Urthan?"
Garm winced, "Good answer, aye. Saoki is a very large place."
"And this is why it will take a lifetime to retrieve. No one knows what's outside the boundaries of Urthan due to the High Councils' laws." Dardimir leaned against the bookcase, setting his empty pipe down on one of its shelves. "You four are to band. to come together as comrades, friends, and help one another. It will be the only way you can do this. Learn to love each other. Even the evil can do that."
By, Andrew Brittin
I do not know where my thoughts began. A thousand years ago? No. Before that! And now. Now my time is up. My thoughts are becoming meshed within another and I have let an adversary start gaining more control. The Balance is offset. Me being here does nothing. And yet. a replacement for me hasn't shown, the ceremony cannot take place. I am worthless to these people. So be that as it may I will not give up my powers to anyone. They will work for them.
Prologue: A Call to Summon
"I left Liskin two moons ago. I slept not and my lute is my only companion from the insanities of the night. I feel tortured. Am I insane for coming here? Or perhaps it's Dardimir's influence that draws me. How many months now? Three? Four? I'm not sure anymore. Northern Urthan however is beautiful. I enjoy its scenery. It inspires me. The fire is cold. My eyelids are heavy and my fingers sore from strumming my faithful lute for so many hours. Dardimus, why do I listen you? Is your charisma that sickening?"
Excerpts from Kirmus' Journal
A darkened soul's footsteps passed the barriers of the abandoned shrine. Kirmus. The bardic druid from the southern lands of Urthan walked quietly through the battered hallways and twisted rooms seeking. His cape fluttered lightly from a breeze of a beaten window, the outside air fresh and sweet of herbs that grew on the crumbling walls. "Dardimir!" He called, the sound echoing off the walls. "Dardimir! I know you're here you crazy fool!" "Quit your yelling." The middle-aged monk said, his body now standing next to Kirmus. "Your voice travels further than the rankin's wings will allow them to fly." His hand rubbed the side of his face, the scruff of a week's growth of hair itching his palm. Kirmus lowered his voice, whispering. "You're the one that called me from the southlands to the northern boarder. I've spent over four months getting here." The tall lanky man took a seat on one of the remaining undamaged chairs; the folds of his cloak and the garb he had fitted himself in hid his weaknesses well. The room laid in chaotic ruin. The only standing items were a large wooden table, simply made with it's legs crossing at the bottom, a bookshelf that proudly held many magical tomes of Dardimir's liking, and a few rotting chairs. "Bloodywinkle!" The call of an unknown voice startled Kirmus as she shifted in his chair to face the direction the voice came. "Four weeks! A full month! And for what? A tattered shrine that's good for nothin' anymore. Been looted all." Dardimir's brows frowned, his wrinkled forehead collapsing slightly over his old gray-green eyes. "I hate the name. Bloodywinkle." His walking stick slammed on the ground, a bright yellow and orange spark coming from it and ghostly smoke rising up ever the more ominously, the cloud condensing and a female figure clad in full steel armor appearing. "Take care of our loud mouth guest please." Kirmus stood. "You're not going to kill him, are you Dardimir?" He reached back for a long bow that sat on his back with a quiver of poison arrows and a lavishly decorated lute. "Bah! Kill him? No. Frighten him, hurt him and maul him. Perhaps." The women had disappeared out of the small office-like room and into the hallways to silence the 'guest'. "He's strong enough to take it. The young and sprite hearted Garm, that is." "That damnable barbarian? Why is he here?" Kirmus' voice stung with anger. "Because. I have use of you and Garm. And a few others." The old man walked over to a chair that sat in the corner, and plopped himself down in, giving a sigh of relief for being off his feet. "You were the first to arrive. I sent out invitations so you would all arrive on the same day. Four of you, here: Kirmus, the Bard, fallen druid, keeper of the darkness. Garm, the barbarian, keeper of Hatred." "Rika and Farth." Kirmus mouthed, his eyes shunning. "Very good, Kirmus, I wouldn't expect less from you. Rika, sorceress, the keeper of Chaos, and Farth, the rogue, keeper of corruption; you four I will need in aiding of my task." The monk's voice was slow, like he was near death. Such as he always did, thinking each word he used over and over before he spilt it out into a slow moving stream of a conversation. "That women? Was she Rika?" He heard Garm's voice as the women confronted him. "I doubt she'd call up on a summon like that." Dardimir chuckled loudly. "If I had called Rika like that she would have my head! Not even my faith would've saved me then. She's a cruel mistress. But they should be arriving within the hour." "Is there, perhaps in your ungodly kindness, a place I can rest? I've been walking straight since Liskin. A three day trudge let me tell you!" The satchel that was swung across his shoulders moved-uneasily-and settled again. "I have myself a heavy load." "Yes, yes. Go out this room and to the right. Down the long corridor-at the end-you'll find a room. Use it." Without another word, Kirmus stood and walked out of the room, his heavy cloth covered legs carrying him proudly. Down the corridor, and into the vacant room, Kirmus started to take things from his back. The satchel first, which was thrown carelessly onto the dust covered bed-it's filth flying up in a cloud. He quietly took the long bow-one that had been given to him by way of a noble merchant after he had slaughtered the man-and set it carefully against the wall, afraid, deep down, that the stone gray wall would collapse. Lastly, the lavishly decorated lute; he ran his fingers across the strings, the notes clear and traveled through the air for quite a distance on the edge of the forest. He hummed, the rest of the song, murmured a few words from the ancient tale of Balance and finally laid the lute to rest propping against an old wooden chair. Am I. Evil? Keeper of Darkness. Yes. I am.
"Rika!" Dardimir called out. "Rika, welcome. It has been a while yes?" "Four years. Yes. Dardimir, your age amazes me. You have yet to look any older from the time I saw you last." The human shrugged off her heavy sack and before it could land on the cold ground with a heavy thud, she had already found herself a seat on the same chair Kirmus had just sat in only half an hour ago. "So, why did you call me? It's not often a monk in the middle of nowhere sends me a letter when he knows how to contact me through magic. Or did you forget you old man?" She mused at her questions contently as she watched Dardimir's face take a confused looking. "You're not the only one I called Rika. Only one of four. You remember them, I would hope, yes? The four Keepers. The ones of the bloodline who served the Dark Lord, Rize, before his death so many thousand years ago." "I know my status, old man. And I know of those you speak. Who is still yet to show?" She crossed her legs, sitting straight. "Farth is the only one. I was tempted to not call the halfling." Dardimir got to his feet, grabbing an old half-smoked pipe from the ledge of the bookcase and placed in his mouth. "Would you mind?" He asked Rika sighed, "My powers are being wasted on you." She whispered quietly and placed a finger on the pipes contents and they combusted quickly. "Where is Garm and Kirmus? You said they were here?" "Yes. Kirmus is in the room down the hall, probably sleeping, though he had started to play the Tale of the Balance. Very pretty melody. But he stopped. So I think he's asleep." The man took a long, deep puff on his pipe before he continued-Rika waiting quietly. "As for Garm. I sent a ghast after him for he called me by the name I detest. He is surely lying somewhere sleeping as well." Rika stood, shaking her head. You have a way of putting people to sleep. I should check on Garm. He's the funniest damn barbarian dwarf I've ever seen-and sadly I've seen to many." She walked on; back the way she had came, leaving her bag where it lay. She came upon the passed out Garm out side-around back from the main entrance. The ghast had merely drugged him, it seemed as he lay there unconsciously smiling. A molded steel plate with an etched mini-mural of the fight between the Great Sorcerers and Rize lay across his chest- strapped on by leather straps-was almost all that protected him from anything, save the buckler, the knee-high steel covered boots and his unusually large hand axe that was stained with blood and glowed eerily. "Garm!" Rika yelled incessantly "Wake up you dumbass! It's time to get up!" She brought her foot back and kicked him hard in the ribs. "Wake up!" "Don't kill me." The dwarf groaned, one open eye looking at her. "What yah want?" "I'm gathering up the waste around here to take to Dardimir. Meet him in his study." Rika turned, walking back to the front of the shrine, studying the grassland that extended for unseen miles, a thick forest behind.
Kirmus strum lightly on his lute, humming a tune, and putting words to it mentally, sitting in the chair that it seemed everyone wished to use that day. Dardimir stood, smoking his pipe calmly, his old face glowing from the embers with each puff. Rika sat on the floor and pulled her sack forward, pulling out an old book The Balanced Black about acceptable dark magic-none of the fun stuff Rika had found. She knew Kala didn't care about limitations. She passed most of them so quickly no one could complain. But even though Rika was evil, she still wanted to be accepted in society, so she followed the basic of rules. Garm stumbled in shortly after Rika had started reading, the stunt dwarf rubbing his ribs that had met Rika's foot only moments earlier. "Do we got any ale?" he asked. "No. This is not a drinking house nor a social gathering." Dardimir tapped his pipe on the dwarf's head. "We're waiting for Farth to show." "That cheat! How could you want him?" He sputtered, hopping up on the large round table. "'Cause I'm a good kind've halfing, that's for sure!" A small voice said-no one knowing where from but everyone knew who it was. "Sorry to've kept you waiting! I got caught up with some big folk about three days ago. Got me some money, and a jail ticket, then lost me money and it's been hell since! What is a good little thief like me supposed to do without some coin in my purse?" "Sneaky little runt." Rika murmured as she quickly checked over everything in her bag. "You didn't take any of our stuff did you? I'd fry you up so quick you wouldn't know you were even dead." "Sounds pleasant to me! Much better than the slow and painful stuff." Farth laughed as he came out from behind the bookcase that couldn't have possibly have had enough room for him. "I didn't steal yer stuff, nor Kirmus' or Garm's stuff either. I don't steal from brethren." Dardimir stepped forward his voice unusually loud for the soft-spoken Monk. "Everyone! I'm glad you have all been able to make it, but I ask you save the pleasantries for after I'm done. We have some urgent things to take care of." "Like?" Farth said, hopping up next to Garm, leaning over and whispering: "I like being next to someone more my size. Makes me feel better." He winked. "I'm getting to that." Dardimir glared at Farth, his fisted knuckles turning white. "You all know of the Guardian. We all know of your pasts, heritage and your connections to one another. You've been sent on many quests via my order. But you have never been sent on a journey." Farth raised his hand. "Difference, sir?" "The difference, Farth, is that a journey can and probably will take your life time to complete. It's a fetching errand, of sorts. The guardian has left his thrown within his realm-no one can find or sense him anywhere. However he left us with a few notes, a few thoughts." He paused, looking at each member in turn, mentally surveying their skills. "We believe there are numerous. artifacts in which holds the remains of the Guardian. Each bestowing the power of part of himself upon the holder of the artifact. I am asking the most powerful students I have ever laid eyes upon to retrieves these for me." "Are they to be in Urthan?" Garm asked quietly. "Does the Guardian only reign over Urthan?"
Garm winced, "Good answer, aye. Saoki is a very large place."
"And this is why it will take a lifetime to retrieve. No one knows what's outside the boundaries of Urthan due to the High Councils' laws." Dardimir leaned against the bookcase, setting his empty pipe down on one of its shelves. "You four are to band. to come together as comrades, friends, and help one another. It will be the only way you can do this. Learn to love each other. Even the evil can do that."