Chapter 4

The Journey to Varden
Rowran was falling, falling off a cliff into the deep ocean and then time froze. He saw a huge claret eye darting at him and he couldn’t move. His body was rendered numb as if he had no control. He knew not of the creature but the golden wedge surrounded by the maroon fire seem to engulf him from all side and finding it to him. There were goblins battling on the cliff. A bolt of darted towards him and everything went blank. A fair song buzzed his ear and his heart stopped pounding and he relaxed.
He woke up to climbing noon sun and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. Shaflon was preparing food in an earthen pot, kept on fire and humming a song that Rowran woke up with.
“Greetings, so finally you are awake. It has stopped raining as you can see. We will be able to start in the evening as the sun descends.” said Shaflon, handing Rowran a drink in a coconut shell.
Rowran nodded in agreement, and accepted the drink. It was warm, but he didn’t know what it was. It felt good.
“It is Cerlamin, prepared from an herb found in the forest. It will keep tiredness at bay and thirst at minimal. For hunger I am preparing some roots. I guess you would like it once prepared.” said Shaflon, taking a sip of Cerlamin and steering the earthen pot with stick.
Rowran got ready for the day as the roots were being prepared. It didn’t taste anything like Rowran expected and surely not as good as the feast of Shrine, but it was good for his hungry stomach and he felt good after having it.
After waiting for Shaflon to finish packing few roots in impromptu bag weaved out of big leaves and soft stems. The two started on their journey to Waza-lier.

Chapter 3

Battle of Allies
Darkness and rain grew heavier. Fire retreated in the cover of coal and ash. Shattering of rain drops were the only sound to be heard, but none could sleep.
Occasional thunder cracked through the forest and spoke of evil omens. After many minutes passed Rowran asked- “Have you ever been to Somanor?”
“Somanor” repeated Shaflon, as Rowran’s inquisitive gaze rested on Shaflon. “It used to be a wonderful city. Home to most virtues men, rock solid warriors, and amazing craftsmen. I visited it when Rune was proclaimed king after demise of his father Samaner. He invited a council for unification of armies of Men. Five of the seven heeded the call, but rest descended under the command of Shadows. It was silence before the storm.
I was in Somanor when allied forces bowed to unite against the rising darkness of Arzamanor.
I was there when the preparation began and swords were forged. The dark attacked the fort of Lamaranier. We had warning and were prepared as an army of tens of thousands of goblins and wolverines drummed and marched to the fort.
I stood next to the king on the tallest tower. They stormed the fort like water on rock. Many goblins were killed and victory seemed imminent. The howl of wolverines filled the night and blood drained down the river Nior.
Then came the shudder that shook the mighty fort and gigantic figures appeared at the horizon. There was dust in the air and a pungent smell that fumed the air and did not wash away for days to come.
Maroth, dark creatures feed by Dark Shadows. Giant teeth stuck out behind their trunks. Feet made for stammering the force, Trunk made for thrashing, and ramming the gates. Nothing could bring them down. They moved through force as thunderbolt through forest. It broke through seven gates, till it reached Dara’hanu, gate to the keep.
Then, something happened that no one expected. Something that changed the history forever.
An army of Elves marched down the forest of Vardac. Surrounded nasty goblins, fierce wolverines and rampage Manroth from all sides and slew all that stood and brought down the gigantic creatures to ground. Each crashed with a giant thug and earth shook beneath our legs. Black blood burnt the ground. No one retreated, no one survived. The defeat sent Dark Forces back to where they belong, but now once again they are coming, more than ever, and are more power which cannot be ignored.
The silent bond of friendship that once existed among men and elves is now poisoned by disbelief, that never grow weak and Dark Lord is taking advantage of it once more.”
Since the ‘Battle of Allies’ Dark Forces have not engaged in open warfare, but the power across the Stream of Mogard has grown stronger. Every night humans and elves are being slain, no place is safe.”
There was silence after the words that both feared to break. The rain grew harder and tiredness forced Rowran in a deep slumber.”

Chapter 2

The Run
In the dimly lit shrine hut on the bank of river Sarenal, rested Rowran. The sky was getting dark, storm approached from west as grey curtains covered the moon and shimmering river lose its glowing lustre. Occasional thunder lit up the room and the window curtain fluttered with great shudder.
“Rowran, wake up!” shouted Shaflon, shaking Rowran in bed. “We have to leave now.”
Rowran wakes up to find deep blue eyes of Shaflon darting right at him. Part scared, part surprised, he grabbed Shaflon’s hand and rushed out of the shire to see a stream of blood flowing down the river. Body of few elves pierced by dark arrows came with blood and there were explosions in the forest behind the shrine.
Both crossed the river in a hurry and Shaflon untied the hanging bridge that helped them cross and said- “Goblins, wicked creatures they are. Can never let us live in peace.”
An ugly dark creature, with huge eyes and cutting canine fangs came out of the bush and shoot an arrow towards them. Shaflon raised his Shaft and shot a red blot towards the arrow and it exploded in mid air.
“Run there are many of them.” said Shaflon, running towards the forest.
Before they could disappear behind the trees they heard a huge explosion that lit up the sky. They turned around in despair to find Shrine shattered to pieces.
Sadness engulfed them as they moved deeper in the woods and soon enough it started to rain. Once the view of river was out of sight, they rested under an opening in the black rocks that symbolised the start of rocky terrain ahead.
Stars faded into darkness and the world was rendered in total darkness. Nothing other than the faint outline of trees and the peeking rocks could be seen. Occasionally, a pair of glowing eyes looked at them but disappeared as soon as they were noticed.
It started to rain heavily and the temperature dropped fast. Shaflon lit up a fire to keep them warm and Rowran sat shivering next to it. When his clothes dried and he felt warm again he asked Shaflon about the goblins.
“Wicked servant of Dark Lord they are. Three days back they attacked Somanor and destroyed every human that ever lived. I presume you would be one of the lucky survivors to survive their rage of hatred. Our riders returned the previous evening with three survivors and were taken to Sumdel Temple, hidden deep in the forest. You were to be taken too, but I wonder if it would be possible now, with goblins guarding the river crossing in such a large number.” answered Shaflon
“Where would we go then, we can’t hide in the forest forever.” questioned Rowran.
Shaflon waited for a few moments, wondering if he should speak or not, at last he said, “From Sumdel, we were planning to take you to visit Mare’lime, to retrieve your memories, but now i wonder if we can take the journey on our own. The attack by goblins has proved that they wanted you, but reason still unclear. I need to get you to a safe place.”
Rowran looked away from cracking fire and faced Shaflon with a questioned look. “Can she really retrieve my memories?” he asked.
Shaflon nodded in answer. “If there is anyone who can help you, it is she. If your heart is pure and you come of no evil.” he paused. “Journey is long and with goblins on our trail, it is dangerous. Home of Mare’lime is the answer to every question we have and safest in the dark hours as of now.”
“I am ready for it. I feel worthless, lonely and uncertain with no identity. When should we start.” Rowran’s eyes glittered with certainty. Nothing could have been better then a hope to gain everything back that he has lost.
“Remember journey is not easy, when we have no food and can afford no rest. The way travels through the high pass of Oblivious to the high valley. Darker forest and rushing rivers; crude marsh and the land of dead; into the wild and in the dark.” explained Shaflon. “Are you ready for it all?”
“Yes, I am. I fear no death, but the thought of being lost within kills me. I need to know myself.” he said. The innocence of Rowran spoke of bravery, but Shaflon knew for certain that Rowran kept a secret, purpose of being sent to Sumdel.
“We shall start soon, as soon as rain stop and sun is on rise. In the cover of woods, we heed east the trail to Waza-Lier, the wax palace of Mare’lime” announced Shaflon, and gave Rowran a silent smile of affirmation.

Chapter 1

New Beginning
The piercing dark eyes peered through the darkness of night in search of something that look familiar. He could make out the faint outline of the walls and sloping roofs made up of wood. The filtered moon light shone through the small window behind the curtains. The sound of flowing river seemed reassuring but he could not remember where he was.
He tried to get up from the bed, but his weariness has taken its toll. His legs hurt and hands cramp. He realized he was hungry.
How long have I not eaten? He wondered.
His mind failed to answer.
It appeared as if a bolder has risen between him and his mind.
He looked at his bandaged hand and wonder what he had gone through. No answer.
The darkness outside seem to filled him within and he blankly looked at the window.
“Lamaner” said a voice and the room were lit by shimmering blue light. It came from a tall shaft, held by a wise steady hand. Before late a bearded old face appeared from darkness, revealing wise old eyes and long flooding white beards reaching his waist line. He was dressed in white cloak. Boy looked at the wizard and backed off in surprise.
“Who are you?” he demanded, more out of fear then anger.
“Ask me not” commanded the wizard. “Do you know who you are?”
Everything seemed dark. More he tried to remember, thicker the wall grew in his mind. He don’t remember his own name, a cold sweat ran down his spine, shivering him from head to toe.
“You are in a shrine, in the kingdom of Sumdel on the bank of river Sarenal.” said the wizard. “The last surviving temple of knowledge and I am Shaflon.” He bent down in a slight bow. Boy catches glimpses of an Amulet dangling around his neck behind the long beard and wonders if he is a friend or foe.
“We found you in a barrel, washed down the river two days back.” continued Shaflon. “I presume you are hungry, your food will be here in a moment.”
Food sounded good and he realized how hungry he was. Feeling more confident this time he asked- “Do you know what happened to me?”
“I am sorry, I don’t. The scratches on your arms speak of an attack by goblins and injuries on hand of a possible dragon. As soon as we found you, we sent messengers due north for information, they will be back soon. Till then you shall rest and heal your injuries. You are safe here.” reassured the wizard.
Two fair tall men with knotted golden hairs entered the room. Their eyes were of blue gems and clean silver robes shimmered like flowing river. The boy noted the splendid long figures, softness and delicacy of touch when they served him with food, fit for a grand feast.
He ate with charm as Shaflon seated himself on a wooden stool, resting his enquiring gaze on the boy. Everything boy ate tasted good. He asked Shaflon about the food and he told him that the food was prepared in Elvin kitchen, with Elves trained for many years and recipes of splendid taste, which are held secret.
When boy finished eating, he turned to Shaflon and asked- “Am I dreaming.”
“Nay! You are not dreaming.” replied Shaflon.
“Everything seems so dark. I can’t live with the fact that I have no identity and a past that I don’t remember. I am so afraid within.” he starts to cry. Shaflon rose from his stool and approached the boy.
“Don’t let misery of past become your misery. Start a new life, free from melancholy and sorrow of past. Make new memories, leaving behind the memories that are locked. Answers are coming, my boy. There is a reason for all this and it must be for good.” He gently touch the boy on his forehead and said-“From today you would be known as Rowran, from the River.”
A sense of peace descended on Rowran, his sobs faded into silence and before his tears could dry, he was swept away in the world of dreams and his course to rebirth began.