Halidor - Chapter 1

HALIDOR - Chapter 1



The watcher's eyes were fixed on the yellow translucent light. It grew larger and brighter as he made his way down the dimly lit passages that wound their way to the underground chamber. The noise it made, its pulsating power, made him shake to his very core, and he almost wanted to turn and run screaming like a child. This place had always been forbidden to all save a select few in the citadel. The portal was dangerous, not  a place for the uneducated and uninitiated. He snorted as he remembered Elijah’s warning , “little do you know old man, I am neither uneducated or uninitiated as you will soon discover to your cost.”



He entered the vast cavern that had been carved out of the mountain by his ancestors. He still marvelled at the mammoth task they had undertaken and at the feat of engineering that had created this powerful tool.   

It provided important trade links between the North and South lands and allowed travel through distances that would take months through, it was said, torturous and unforgiving landscapes. This, however, was only a small element of  its use for the people of Halidor; for the North lands, it was vital for their very survival.



The portal provided light, energy and power for the northlanders, who had no natural supply of their own. Although the landscape with its mountains, lakes and rivers provided a stunning backdrop for their magnificent citadel, this was of no use without the means to exist.  The south, on the other hand, although flat and unremarkable to the eye,  had  good, fertile soil,  for growing crops and a plentiful supply of water.  What they lacked was fuel; barely enough forest to supply wood and no fossil fuels to be mined. Fuels that were vital for maintaining the power levels of the machine. These things, the north had in abundance. Thick lush forests surrounded the citadel for as far as the eye could see and there was coal mined in the heart of the mountains. Thus the northlanders supplied the fuel to, not only power the portal, but also to heat the homes of the Southlanders and, in return, received a plentiful supply of essential vittals to feed the population.   



To close the portal would require the usage of two separate keys; one kept in the North and one in the South. A precaution to ensure that neither side could close it down and thus, endanger the other by accident or malice.  For centuries, the arrangement had worked harmoniously, although both sets of inhabitants remained insular  within their own realms for that was the very nature of the Halidorians.  No soul had been through the portal in almost two hundred years. Until today.



The watcher felt in his pocket for the small object he had acquired earlier - with luck its owner would not yet miss it. He walked over to the centre of the chamber  trying not to be distracted by the enormity of his deed. The stone carved statues of prominent ancestors seemed to be staring down at him reproachfully as he moved towards the  central panel. “What are you bastards staring at?" he shouted “You would think me beneath you; you would think me but a beetle you could crush beneath your feet as if I were nothing. Well, I will show you, I will show you all!!”



His sweaty palms betrayed his bravado for the smooth shiny stone almost slid from his grasp but he gripped it firmly and, with a shaking hand slotted it into place.



“There. It is done. Too late to turn back now.”



At first, nothing happened and the watcher began to dismay but, suddenly, the portal, burst into life, flashing red and green creating a vortex effect that seemed to encompass the entire chamber. The watcher was flung back against the wall and stayed hidden in the shadows, transfixed by the phenomenon before him. A mighty wind whipped up as if from nowhere and the watcher was terrified he would be borne away to who knew where. This was when the portal was at its most dangerous  - many a soul had been lost in the early days through a lack of understanding and respect of its machinations. “ Only when the vortex flashes white is it safe to enter and then only for a count of thirty” the watcher had memorised the script of ancient text that none knew he’d read. As if prompted by his thoughts, he was forced to shield his eyes as a bright thunder flash illuminated the room and faded to reveal a dozen raiders all adopting defensive positions,  scanning the room with swords drawn at the ready.   



They were a brutish looking company. All dressed in black leather with their hair scraped back into topknots until it seemed their facial skin would tear.    Although their eyes were the same green hue common to all Halidorians, this was the only similarity. For they were as dark as northlanders were fair which made their eyes seem all the more piercing and intense. The watcher realised that, although he had read much about them, these were the first southlanders that he had ever seen and they terrified him.   



Suddenly, he realised that their leader, had his eyes, or rather, one eye fixed upon him, even though he supposed that he was well hidden in the shadows.



“Come out and show yourself” the man growled, “ There is work to be done and we do not mean to remain in this God forsaken land any longer than we have to”



The watcher emerged from his hiding place and tried to adopt an air of confidence, even though his legs felt like jelly and his bowel had relaxed to the extent that he was having to walk with his cheeks clenched. He moved over to the control panel under the watchful eye of the leader and indicated the  unremarkable looking stone.



“We will need to take this when we return  -  for I will be going back with you. If you fall, you must ensure that one of your men retrieves this from you. It will start up the portal and if the last person removes it, he will have 30 seconds to get himself and it back to the Southlands. That should be ample time. I should be here to meet you when you return, but if I am not you are to wait until I arrive, for that is the masters will. The object that you must retrieve is kept in the private chambers of Elia, lifemate of the mage Elijah.” He moved over to what appeared to be a solid wall and pressed an almost hidden lever. With a grinding sound of stone against stone, the rock fell back to reveal a passage lit with torches



“This passage leads directly to Elias’ chamber. There you will find that which you seek. You know what you are looking for?



This last question was posed in the hope that Morgan would let slip the reason for the raid. The watcher was rather put out that Lucien had not trusted to tell even him. But Morgan was not as stupid as he looked and Linus could have kicked himself for allowing him the power trip.



“ I alone know what it is and where it may be found and I alone will take it back to the master. What will you do, friend?” 



“I  must ensure that you will not be discovered, I will go to the feast to make sure of this. Do not fail in your task, Morgan, and you will be rewarded well”



With this last statement he had hoped that he had sounded confident and self-assured  in an attempt to redress the level of power. However, the sudden waft of his own methane had obviously given him away, for the burly Morgan suddenly grinned a sinister grin that displayed many rotten teeth and emited a halitosis that could stun a man at thirty metres.



“Be assured, friend, if we do fail, it will be because you have failed us and the master is very unforgiving when it comes to failure. Oh, and, by the way, I would put on new undergarments before you go anywhere”



With this he roared at his own humour and rallying his men, made his way  out of the chamber and through the ancient passages towards the very heart of the citadel.



The watcher, Linus, regarded the stealthy band until they were out of site and muttered under his breath, “You will live to regret your mockery of me ere I am finished with you. And you will need more than clean undergarments.” He grabbed a torch and with one last look at the humming portal, turned and hurriedly made his way back up the passage, via his own chamber for a change of breeches, to join the festivities. 





In the great hall, the feast was in full swing. The “Festival of Return” marked the time when all the ancients had returned from the old world, to Halidor. It was a time for thankfulness at the delivery from violence, from temptation and from corruption. When the previously forgotten haven of Halidor had been rediscovered,  there was great rejoicing for three days and it was deemed that the escape from the old life, would be forever marked by an annual two day festival of music, feasting and frivolity. For the hardworking northland folk it was the highlight of the year. 



At the head table sat Elijah, Mage and leader of The Northern Citadel of Halidor. Save for a few nomads who chose the rural life, all inhabitants of the northland chose to be housed within the confines of the great citadel and,  therefore,  to dwell under its rules. He was a foreboding figure, dressed in the distinctive red robes that signified his position, his head permanently covered with the wrappings of the  order of mages. Theirs was an ancient association, established at the time of return to bring order and wisdom to the Halidorian people. In the recorded histories, it was said that their presence was strong with as many as twelve mages governing the citadel at any given time  - answering only to their elected leader. However, in more recent times, the order had diminished greatly: the skills inherent to the order did not present themselves until the 10th birthday and were only ever present in males. Elijah had been the only one of his generation  and so had borne the burden of leadership, since succession at the age of 20, totally alone, for almost 40 years.



Opinions on his rule were divided; some believed that he had performed a mammoth task keeping the realm of Halidor peaceful for all this time without any counsel; others believed that the level of power had consumed and corrupted him beyond redress and that those that loved him had paid a terrible price - notably his life mate Elia and his daughter Mia. It was perhaps this opinion that had become stronger over the latter years, especially when it became evident that a talented mage with the healing arts had emerged in the shape of a young lad, Ethan Tor, born to low ranked citizens in the Halidor hierarchy.  It was said that Elijah had seen the boy as a threat and had taken him as an apprentice to control and suppress his talents. Some even believed that he had been instrumental in the deaths of the boys parents so that his control of the lad would be complete, but none dared utter such treasonous thoughts. Whatever the truth of the matter, he  had certainly succeeded in controlling the boy as Ethan was now a 28 year old man with no confidence, no sense of self worth and no idea of the power he was capable of wielding. Or so Elijah thought and that was how he wanted it to stay.



Elia gazed sadly towards the neighbouring table on which sat the poor wretch that her husband called his apprentice. He appeared to be trying to drown his sorrows but was making a mess of even that as most of his ale was spilling down the front of his tunic rather than going where it was meant. She watched the poor creature struggle to his feet and make his way towards the direction of the latrines, “ My God, Elijah, what have you done to that poor boy? The fate of Halidor rests on his shoulders alone and you have turned him into a snivelling wretch with no idea of the power he wields”



She was a striking woman in her middle years. She had been considered a great beauty in her youth and it was the ultimate honour to be chosen as mate  by the mage. She had married out of respect for her parents and out of reverence for his position but not out of love. Her heart had belonged to another and remained there still. Of course, Elijah had known this but he had also known she would not refuse him  - she could and would not have inflicted that disgrace on her family. He had ensnared her as surely as a spider ensnares its prey. He had hoped that, given time she would have grown to love him and supply him with the son he desired but she did neither. They had two daughters  - the first was lost when a babe in arms. Only a select few knew of what had happened and they were sworn to secrecy but it drove a wedge between Elia and Elijah that was never removed.  The second daughter was Mia who now sat on the other side of her father at the head table. She was a sweet child but had been shielded from a great many things by her over bearing father and had a reputation for throwing tantrums and being spoiled. Despite all this Elia loved her dearly and this love was returned unconditionally.



She looked at her now. She wondered for the umpteenth time what Niamh would have looked like  - would she have resembled her or her father? Mia resembled Elijah; she had her fathers angular features and deep-set eyes and even the same scowl when she could not get her own way. She could not be considered a beauty but she was an attractive girl all the same. Whatever Niamh would have looked like, I won’t get any clue from looking at my younger daughter, Mia reflected sadly. Why torture herself with questions she could never know the answers to? “One thing’is certain” she told herself, “ she would have better taste in men than her younger sister.” She looked in distaste at the man seating himself on the other side of her daughter. Ten years Mias’ senior, Linus could have been considered handsome but there was something about his manner that Elia disliked and made him ugly  - something she could not quite put her finger on, that was not quite right about him. Elijah called her an over-protective mother and, she was sure, just to spite her, had given the couple his blessing. They had meant to be married a year earlier but Elia had insisted Mia wait until she reached 21 and Elijah had let her have her way. However, her 21st birthday was only a month away and Elia knew she would not be able to find another way to prevent the match. Suddenly she felt very redundant and old.



Her gaze moved to the end of the table where Manus, Chief Protector sat. Their eyes met and, briefly she saw her own sadness reflected back at her.



“ My dear, are you well, you look quite pale?”



She was jolted out of her reverie by the concerned tones of her husband.



“My apologies, Elijah. I am quite well, perhaps a little tired. A little herbal balm will do the trick, I will go to my chamber and get some”



“ No need my dear, I will send Ethan. The drunken sot needs to be kept busy”



“No really, let him enjoy himself while he can. I will be back directly.”



“As you wish my dear, but hurry back, I don’t want you to miss my speech’



Elijah regarded his speech as the highlight of the festival and, it seemed,  his preparation time became longer each year. As did the speech. He was the only one that anticipated it with any gusto. The inhabitants of the citadel dreaded this part of the proceedings but Elijah would never have known. He took the roars of approval and clapping at the end of each speech to be a display of the adoration of his people, little realising that it was really an indication of their joy and relief that it was all over for another year.   





Elia smiled at her husband and gave him her customary peck on the cheek, although it had always pained her to do so. She looked up and, as expected, met Manus’ watchful gaze. As her Chief  Protector, he never let her out of his sight and was already making ready to follow her.



“Where is your Mother going?” enquired Linus leaning over to Mia. Annoyed at being distracted from the cabaret that was being performed, Mia jerked her head round and uttered, “probably got one of her headaches, off to her chamber for a balm I suppose.”



Linus hoped that his face did not display the panic that he was feeling, he almost choked on the bile that was rising in his throat. He had to stop her, this was not part of the plan.



“I’ll just go see if there is any way I can be of assistance” He made to rise but was tugged back down by Mia. “ You’ve only just got here and besides, leave it to Manus, it is his job after all. See, he is already following. “



He had to think fast. If the raiders were discovered, his treachery would undoubtedly become known. There may be a chance that Morgan and his men already had what they needed but what if Elia walked in on them? Worse still, what if Manus confronted  them? He had the reputation as the best swordsman in Halidor and would fight to the death to protect Elia. He made the decision. He didn‘t like it but Elia was expendable - he would try and prevent Manus from reaching her. He had to be quick, he was almost at the door.



He jumped up and called after the burly Protector. “Manus, have you a moment?”



Manus looked round and was barely able to contain his dislike “ What do you want, Linus, you prevent me from performing my duty”



“ Begging your pardon, but this is important” lied, Linus, thinking on his feet.



“Nothing could be more important than my duty to the lady Elia and you have already hindered me too long. Whatever it is, go see Logan about it, do not bother me with trifles”



With that he turned on his heals and hurried to follow Elia to her chambers. Linus hoped that he had bought Morgan and his men enough time but he felt sick to his stomach at the prospect of discovery. What to do? Should he follow Manus and attempt to engage the enemy if there were to be a confrontation? No, the coward in him would not risk the chance of  injury - in a sword fight, Morgan and his men may not realise it were him until it was too late and, besides, he did not trust them anyway.  Should he then, go straight to the portal chamber and make his escape? Before he could make a decision, a loud clanging noise sounded in the great hall. The warning gong. Then it was too late, Morgan had been discovered and was obviously being engaged by Manus.



There was stunned silence from all those gathered in the hall. The warning gong had not sounded within these walls for many years - the last time had been thirty years before when the dam had burst and the great flood had come. For many, including Mia, Ethan and even Linus himself, this was the first time it had been heard. What could it mean? After what seemed minutes but may only have been seconds, Logan and others from the order of the protectors leapt to their feet. “ My lord, it appears to be coming from the direction of your private chambers. With your permission I will take some men and investigate.”



Elijah turned and looked to the empty seat next to him “ Elia…” he murmured.



“My Lord?”



“Of course, go you fools, the lady Elia may be in grave danger”



At that juncture, Linus’ decision was made for him.



“Come on Linus, Kit, Nathan, Byron, you’re with me.”



Linus found himself jostled out of the great hall along with Logan and his three comrades in arms. How could things have gone so wrong?  Damn Elia, why did she have to pick that exact moment to leave the gathering?



He was disturbed from his panic by a voice in his ear.  “Whoever it was that

sounded the gong, their timing couldn’t have been better, don’t think I could have

sat through another of Elijah’s three hour speeches.” He looked up to see the grinning face of  the apprentice Protector, Byron Lees. Before he could make reply, the stern voice of Logan cut in. “ I hope you sword is as sharp as your wit, Byron for I believe this to be no tom foolery. Be on your guard, all of you.”



Logan’s prediction and Linus’ worst nightmare were confirmed as they rounded the corner to see Manus engaged and heavily outnumbered by several tall, heavily built swordsman. Four already lay dead in the corridor but, still he was being forced back by six of the powerfully built warriors and had taken several slashes to his body. Linus did a mental head count and realised that two of the raiders were unaccounted for and Morgan was one of them. With the Protector battle cry that had not been heard in combat for centuries, Logan and his men joined the mêlée to aid Manus who, by now,  had slumped against the wall. Linus  looked towards Elias’ chamber. The door was ajar. He pushed against it and found that it would not open properly. Putting his head around the door he accounted for the other missing raider. He was dead on the floor with a dagger in his back. Not far beyond him lay the body of Elia, lying, face down,  in a pool of her own blood. She had obviously put up a fight before she died. It was her ceremonial dagger in the back of the southlander. He went to check the body to see if she was still alive. Gently turning her onto her back he was met by sightless staring eyes. Gorge rose in his throat and he had to run to the window to vomit. He recovered himself and looked over to the entrance of the passage that  led to the portal chamber and tried to work out what had happened. They had obviously all been searching the chamber when Elia had walked in on them. Taken by surprise they had stabbed her and left her slumped there, thinking her dead. Then Manus had arrived alerted by her scream and the raiders had left the chamber to engage him in the corridor. Elia had still been alive then and,  with the last of her strength, had thrown the knife at the last to leave who had fallen dead against the door blocking his comrades from getting back to the passage. “And what of Morgan?” thought Linus grimly, turning back towards the passage, “He obviously found what he wanted and made his escape.” With a cry of realisation, Linus rushed down to the passage towards the portal chamber, sword at that ready. As he ran down the corridor he could see the undulating glow emanating from the portal. It had been engaged. He started to count as he ran down the corridor, he only had thirty seconds. By the time he had rounded the corner that led into the vast cavern he had already reached twenty-five but he was going to make it! Just then, fate played its cruel hand to him. He did not see the jagged rock sticking out of the floor and went sprawling on his face. He looked up in despair to see the light winking out for the last time and howled in anguish.



The Protectors had forced the last surviving raiders to retreat down the corridors of the great citadel to what they knew would be a dead end. The corridor outside Elias’ chamber was eerily silent, littered with the bodies of six dead raiders and the slumped form of one Protector. Ethan Tor came upon the ghastly scene, eyes wide with shock. He had been on a call of nature when the gong was sounded and wandered up to see what the commotion was, supposing, like many, it to be a practical joke. He gawped at the bodies of the raiders; he had never seen their like before and wondered who they were and where they came from, for none but a select few knew what Southlanders looked like. He was startled by a groan behind him and turned to see Manus struggling to sit. “Wait, I’ll help you” he called to the prone Protector and guided him to a sitting position. He noted that Manus  was covered in blood, most of it his, from a number of deep slashes to his torso and bright red blood welled from between his lips. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to be having trouble forming his words “ Ssh, don’t try and talk, I’m going to try and help you” Ethan had suddenly sobered up. Manus grabbed him . “The lady, Elia… ” he demanded as blood frothed freely from his lips, indicating her chamber. Ethan shook his head “Don’t you worry” he tried to sound cheerful “ I’m sure she’s fine, lets try to help you….”

“Go look boy!” Manus grabbed  Ethan with his last supply of strength and almost shoved him through the door. The horrific sight that greeted him would remain with Ethan for the rest of his life. Those sightless eyes would govern his dreams for years to come. He slowly turned away back to the stricken Protector.



“ Well..?” rasped Manus. The look in the boy's eyes, the tears on his cheek were the only answers he needed. “ So, I have failed her again but at least we will not be separated for long, I come Elia, I come”



“No need for that” said Ethan, trying to sound cheerful “ I’m a healer remember, soon have you right as rein”



“No, no healing, do not disgrace me, do not……” he murmured as he lost consciousness. Ethan frowned and placed his hand on the stricken protectors forehead. “ Obviously delirious” he told himself. “Lucky he’s in the hands of the best healer in all Halidor”. With that he set to his work.



Ethan was indeed a gifted healer. Many that he had healed had been deemed untreatable by other healers, past the threshold of return, but somehow he had always been able to call them back. He had vowed as a child to be the best there was when he watched both parents taken by the wasting sickness only months apart. Many healers had  been called in to treat them but to no avail. Ironically, his natural talent had become apparent by then but he had not the knowledge to control it. After watching them die, he had vowed to become the best healer there was so that no other child should have to watch their parents suffer like he had. He had vowed to make the most of the opportunity given to him by Elijah and to study night and day to become the best there was. The lady Elia, Although only 15 years his senior had  been almost like a second mother to him and had treated him kindly even when Elijah had not for he was a hard taskmaster and Ethan had suffered a number of beatings as a result. Seeing Elia dead like that was just like seeing his parents again. Still, he reflected sadly, he could not help her now, but here lay someone he could. He was very near the threshold but if anyone could call him back, he, Ethan Tor, would do it.



He lay one hand on Manus’ forehead and the other on his breast. His breathing was very shallow for he was now, barely alive. Ethan knew he had to act quickly for he was at the brink. He closed his eyes and started chanting the words to conjure forth the abilities locked inside of him:

.

                   “Caerath mor an undain laeth

                   Lebhor dias tua nor gaeth

                   Inor mia bheat na uin

                   Adar elamae I guan”



An effervescent glow emanated from him and encompassed the unconscious Protector.  The words of the chant were of an ancient tongue whose meanings had been lost long ago. Ethan knew which chants to use for various healings but not what they meant  - if anything at all. He was using the chant  reserved for those most in need. It had been the chant they had used for his parents. Ethan knew that the chant alone would not be enough for he had skills that no-one had had before - he had the power to take on the pain and the sickness of those he was attempting to heal. It was dangerous and he had been warned against it several times by Elijah, to no avail. So far he had not had any real side effects from this save from a day spent in the latrine when he treated  a number of the citadel peasantry after an outbreak of dysentery. This alone, was indicative of his power.



Sweat had broken out on Ethans forehead, Manus’ pain was more extreme than he had believed it would be. It went deeper than the physical wounds he had which, by now, had healed over. Still the Protectors breathing was shallow.



Ethan was beginning to tire. A  healing had never taken this long before but he had not lost a patient yet and wasn’t about to now. He was Ethan Tor, he could heal anything. Even Elijah did not know the full extent of his skill. He pressed down on Manus’ forehead with both hands now to discover the source of the pain. If it was a mental, as opposed to a physical pain, then this was the area in which he had to concentrate. He hesitated. He had read much about afflications of the mind but had yet to administer to one affected so. Taking on this kind of pain could leave him permanently scarred. Still, it was a risk he had to take, he would lose Manus other wise and this was not an acceptable outcome. Ethan delved deeper into Manus’ mind and felt such a searing pain that he almost had to withdraw. The anguish was deep rooted  - it went far beyond the events of the day. He started absorbing the pain. He saw angry demons and disturbing apparitions lurking deep within the Protectors subconscious. He thought he heard the wails of a child and then came the image of a woman. She looked familiar but he could not place her. She looked accusingly at him and moved toward him in that dark place.



“ Who are you? “ He enquired. She just looked at him sadly but he heard the voice in his head “ You abandoned me. Why would you do this?” As she drew near she held out her arms towards him. Ethan was transfixed, he couldn’t move. She placed her icy hands on either cheek and looked into his eyes, into his very soul, he thought. Then the hands started to burn into his skin and he started to scream. With his last reserves of strength he grabbed at her hands with his own the searing pain  coursing through every nerve fibre emanating from his fingers up into his hands and beyond. He heard a voice in his mind, far away but getting closer - not hers, another, a male. It was calling him. The voice renewed his strength, momentarily and he was able to pull away from the womans grip and sever the link from Manus’ tormented mind.  He found himself back in the corridor and looking down at his patient. Manus was unconscious but his breathing was steady.



“ Sweet Mercy, Ethan, what have you done?” He turned to see the distraught face of Logan, Lieutenant of the Protectors. “ I’ve healed him” breathed Ethan, happily, before everything went dark and he pitched across The Chief Protector.