The Sword Of Oblivion: The Find

Copyright © 2018 by Grim

Paperback ISBN 13: 978-1-912919-04-8

Hardback ISBN 13: 978-1-912919-05-5

.epub eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-912919-06-2

.mobi eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-912919-07-9

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This novel ‘The Sword of Oblivion Book Two - The Fin’ is a children’s adventure story. The author wishes to stress that the story is entirely a work of fiction and purely for entertainment. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination and the views and opinions expressed in this book are expressed by the characters and are therefore not those of the author himself. Any resemblance to actual persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Grim Books

Printed in the United Kingdom

Contents

Book Two

Book Two

It was a glorious morning on Gryphon Island, everything seemed peaceful. But seeming peaceful didn’t mean it was. The finding off the Amberinth, the precious and mythical mineral once thought that only the gods possessed. Had the four races that once lived in harmony plotting against each other, all expecting the worse. The dwarfs led by Torms are on a secret mission to mine the Amberinth. While the sorcerers have sent out spies and are preparing for war. However, the elves are being a bit more cautious, and are watching and waiting, all under the watchful eye of Gillant the elven ranger.

As the clouds rolled over the landscape far below, within the Emerald Forest lay the Elven Kingdom and within its realm, right at the heart of the forest lay The Great Oak, home of the Elven King Pholanthion.

Gillant was there to report the latest news, including that the sorcerers might be onto them. But, what he didn’t know was Rathall one of the six Masters from The Dark Fortress, was already within The Great Oak, and furthermore, so was Holock, who had been sent to spy on Rathall by Meltoy, his Master.

As Gillant closed the door to his temporary room and set off for his meeting with the king in The Great Hall, so did Rathall, who was back in snake form. Not pinkish-Brown as usual but camouflaged and almost invisible as he slithered along the passageway, changing colour to suit his surroundings. But not that invisible; Holock had spotted him and was keeping his distance, keeping Rathall in his sight. Gillant had made his way up the centre flight of steps to The Great Hall. As he approached, the guards opened the doors for him as they had been expecting his arrival. Due to one of them being present when apprehending him that very morning. One of the guards just looked straight ahead, hoping Gillant didn’t recognise him.

As Gillant walked past, he stopped only for a brief moment before continuing. Gillant never made eye contact, or even moved his head, he didn’t have to. The guard knew that Gillant knew that he was the one who had delivered the blow, which had led to Gillant’s world turning black.

Ah, Gillant, come, come, spoke Pholanthion as Gillant stepped into The Great Hall. As Gillant looked around, he could see King Pholanthion sitting up ahead. Then, there was Velthrone who was standing by the side of the king, ready to give advice. Velthrone looked himself, all poised and staring, never knowing what he was thinking. In front of the king was a large highly decorated oak table and sitting around the table were eight other high-ranking elves that made up the Elven Council.

Do you feel better now? asked Pholanthion.

Yes, thank you, Your Highness, said Gillant, bowing his head in respect for his king.

Well, sit, sit, we have things to discuss.

Gillant took his place at the other end of the table, facing the king. As he looked at the table, he could see that a large map had been spread out which covered the entire surface. The map was of the highest quality. It had every detail set out upon it, every clearing and path, even ones in the Ferral Mountains and the provinces. The mapped areas, especially the Emerald Forest were covered in directional arrows showing which areas would be best, for an ambush or an attack.

Whoever had made this map hadn’t done it overnight. It must have taken years, centuries even, thought Gillant; nothing was left out. Even escape routes and regrouping points were scattered about in clearing within the Elven Realm. There were even some amongst the warlords’ provinces, the Brocken and the Ferral Mountains, right up to the gates of the Dwarfen Kingdom itself.

If we have this detailed map of their areas and pathways, then they must have the same. No wonder they stumbled across us in the clearing, they were looking to bed down for the night and got a surprise when they did. That would explain why they came in through the back of our camp. They must have been following the Elander Trail, which runs parallel with the main track and would have taken them from the bottom of the Ferral Mountains almost to the bottom of the Brocken Mountains without being detected, said Gillant, forgetting where he was for a moment, engrossed in the map.

Gillant, don’t you think you are jumping ahead. I’ve only just told the council about your secret mission. I was going to ask you to fill them in on the details of your find, commented Pholanthion.

Gillant looked up from the map. Forgive me, Your Highness, I did not mean to speak out of turn, he said, bowing his head in respect.

Please, Gillant, continue with your find and update us with your news, said Pholanthion, nodding his head.

Thank you, Your Highness. Gillant looked around the table; all the council’s eyes were upon him, especially those that belonged to Velthrone, who seemed to be taking a special interest in the whole affair.

Well, firstly we set off from here, said Gillant, addressing the council, while leaning over the table and pointing at the map with a thin, highly crafted piece of elm that had been placed on the table in front of his chair for his use.

Then we set up our camp here, and appointed scouts here, here and here, he said as he pointed out the areas where the scouts had been positioned, ready and waiting for any sight or sound of the dwarfs. We also had two scouts over on the coastal road just in case they had decided to take the long way to avoid cutting through the edge the Emerald Forest. They were positioned somewhere around here. He pointed to an outline of trees that ran down the side of the coastal track. And as you can see, it doubles up nicely for a good view of The Dark Fortress that lies on The Island of Black Rock.

Gillant looked up from the map for a brief instant. Now, this is where it starts to get somewhat interesting, he said giving the council a quick glance. One of the scouts, while hunting for food, shot down a black raven, piercing its wing and bringing it to the ground. It was flying from this direction, about here. When the other scout went to retrieve it, the raven was gone. But in its place was a figure lying face down in a black robe with an arrow sticking out of his arm. The next thing the scout can remember is flying through the air, accompanied by a fireball, and ending up in a tree. Meanwhile, the other scout reported a black raven taking to skies once more and flying off towards The Dark Fortress. After that, fearing the worst they left their post to report the matter.

Gillant paused for a brief moment to let what he had just said settle in, before continuing. But it doesn’t stop there. The other interesting news they also reported was of some strange and unexplained activity that seems to be happening on the island. Fireballs and all sorts of sorcery is lighting up the skies, as if they were getting ready for something. Then, we were literally stumbled upon by the dwarfs the following night, the very ones we were trying to find, added Gillant.

And these are the dwarfs you were talking about, the ones with the map that came across your camp? asked Eletall, one of the council members.

Yes, but whilst we were dealing with our intruders, I noticed a black raven high up in the trees. There was something about it that wasn’t quite right, said Gillant, leaning on the table as he spoke to the council.

Do you think it was the same sorcerer that the scouts shot down? asked Pholanthion, moving slightly forward in his seat, awaiting his answer.

Yes, Your Highness, I think he was, he seemed to be listening, and when the dwarfs left the camp, so did he.

And these dwarfs, what was their excuse for roaming around our forest in the middle of the night? asked Trenall, another council member.

They said they were lost, then another dwarf stepped forward and stated they were on a night-time march and had heard screams and left the main track to investigate, and that’s how they had ended up lost. But this dwarf wasn’t any ordinary dwarf, he was the Captain of The Blood Born Guards, one of Crackzull’s finest. I could also make out that over half of the other dwarfs were Blood Born as well. The rest looked like a mining party of some kind.

Do you think they knew we were waiting for them? asked Pholanthion.

All I can say is, the Captain had a keen eye. He noticed that we weren’t just ordinary elves out camping, and guessed our numbers were made up of The Elven High Elite. And just as they were leaving, they heard one of our scouts’ report that dwarfen wagons had just been spotted on the main track. So, as far as saying do they know we are onto them, I’d say yes. But I don’t think they know, we know about the Amberinth. With any luck, they might think we had got wind of a large expedition that had just set out from the Ferral Mountains and were just checking it out.

And the sorcerers, do you think they know about the Amberinth? asked Pholanthion.

I don’t know, Your Highness, but whatever they know, I’m sure they will be keeping it a secret, as this is the first time in centuries that one has actually been spotted off their island. For all we know, they could have known about the dwarfs and the Amberinth before we did. But one thing is for sure, they are sticking pretty close to the dwarfs, so I’d say they know something, Your Highness, replied Gillant.

And if they did, said Pholanthion out loud to the council, they would know about the true power that the Amberinth has over magic, and they’d want to stop whatever or whoever trying to get their hands on it.

That might explain all the activity going on at the fortress, commented Eletall.

You have given us a lot to think about, Gillant. If you were me, what would your next move be? asked Pholanthion.

Gillant looked at his king, then at the council; all eyes were upon him. Your Highness, I would never want to take your place, only serve you, he said as he bowed his head.

You’re very loyal Gillant, but by answering the question, you would be serving me. You are always out in the Emerald Forest, the mountains and the provinces, and you’ve seen what you have spoken of. Who better to ask than you, remarked Pholanthion.

This time Gillant held his head up high and thought about the question.

Your Highness, I would get the army mobilised and ready. If the dwarfs do find Amberinth and mine it, I don’t think it will be the dwarfs we’ll have to worry about. I think the sorcerers will strike hard and fast and show no mercy. They will strike out at whoever knows about the Amberinth, and if they didn’t know that we knew, I’m sure they do now, said Gillant, stating his case.

Pholanthion smiled. Thank you, Gillant, for your thoughts. Can you wait outside while we talk?

Gillant nodded, turned, and walked off towards the hall doors. The guards on the other side opened the doors as they heard the approaching footsteps while springing to attention when Gillant emerged from the room. The guards quickly shut the doors once more; as they were closing, Gillant could hear the council erupt into a discussion.

Gillant had been sitting now for two hours outside The Great Hall. He knew meetings could go on for days when he heard it all go quiet within. Then he heard some footsteps from instead getting louder as they approached the door. The motionless guards sprang back into life; as they opened the door, there stood Velthrone.

You can come back in now, he said, as he turned around and went to retake his place next to the kings.

Gillant got up and strode into the room, all the waiting had made him restless. He had already spent most of the day in the kingdom; soon it would be getting dark. He wanted to get back to Cluzac and the other elves. Gillant re-took his place at the end of the table.

Thank you for being so patient, Gillant, but I thought before you leave to carry on tracking the dwarfs you should know what we intend to do about this matter, spoke Pholanthion. We, the guardians of our kingdom and realm, have all come to a swift and final decision, and with the help and guidance of Velthrone. We have decided to act upon the information you have gathered and presented before us. Firstly, you must go and find out exactly the location of the Amberinth source, and find out if you, can how much there is. If it’s a small amount, and there’s not enough to suit an entire army, then we have nothing to worry about. The dwarfs can have their find and things will revert to normal. But if there is a vast amount we need to know about it. Pholanthion spoke with a hint of worry in his voice, which only Gillant could sense.

Secondly, heeding your advice and that of Velthrone’s, to be on the safe side I will enable the elven army and start getting them prepared. Pholanthion finished what he was saying by bowing his head slightly to the council. Even though he was king, it was customary to do this when speaking for the council.

There is a fresh horse saddled and waiting for you. Now, you may leave, concluded Pholanthion.

Yes, Your Highness. Gillant nodded and walked off, just as the doors opened for him to exit, he heard Pholanthion speak once more.

And Gillant, take care. But this time it wasn’t the king speaking, it was Pholanthion, his dear old friend.

Gillant walked out into the passageway and down the oaken spiral steps, which lead out of the kingdom. When he reached the bottom, there was a fresh thorny elegant horse, with a stable hand holding the reins; awaiting Gillant’s arrival. Gillant took two bold strides and jumped up onto the horse.

Thank you, he said to the stable hand as he took hold of the reins and settled down in the saddle.

Gillant quietly leant forward, placing his mouth close to the horse’s ear and with a whisper only the horse could hear. The horse’s nostrils flared, and its pupils grew wider, and without warning, it shot off through the trees with Gillant sitting firmly on its back. But on this journey, Gillant was on his own.

*

Rathall had been present throughout the council meeting, coiled up in the corner listening to every word that had been said and observing their reactions. While doing this, he’d noticed something about Velthrone, the advisor. He noticed he had a way of getting his point across without the king or the others being any the wiser. Every time one of them spoke out and Velthrone didn’t agree, The advisor would steer them in another direction until they ended up agreeing with what they had disagreed with in the first place.

And if Rathall hadn’t been mistaken, he was sure that the advisor was trying to start a war – but why was the question Rathall couldn’t understand. As the elves had a pretty good share of the Island already, with no one bothering them. So, why provoke a war.

If the neighbouring warlords or dwarfs found out they were mobilising their army, it could spark one off. But as he lay there watching Velthrone’s every move. Rathall could sense there was another side to the advisor, that he wasn’t showing some dark and sinister side, some hidden agenda, just by the look in his eyes. Rathall could see the advisor had a dark and twisted soul, tucked away from the rest of the world, but for how long, thought Rathall.

If anybody wanted some guidance about deceitful lying and having a hidden agenda, then Rathall was your first port of call. Rathall hissed quietly to himself as his body coiled in delight.

After another two hours of discussion from the council, about who was going to organise what and where. The council broke up with everyone knowing exactly what they were doing. Rathall had noticed the advisor had offered his services somewhat conveniently, to keep full and thorough records of all the details.

The king left The Great Hall, then the councillors, and then finally the advisor hurried out of the doors, looking like he was late for something. Rathall uncoiled himself and slithered along the floor in pursuit of the advisor, his body-changing colour as it went over a woven rug. The two guards that had been guarding the doors walked into the hall to check that it was all clear. As they did, Rathall slithered over one of their boots and out into the passageway, following the scent of Velthrone.

The guards had a quick check and turned and shut the doors. Just as the doors were closing there seemed to be a rush of air. The guards noticed it as it caressed their faces; both guards, who had a handle each in their hands, stopped and looked at each other. Neither spoke, but they both had the same thought going through their heads. They had been guarding the door all these years and not once had that ever happened before. As they shut the doors one of the guards just shrugged. While the other one with the heavy gold key attached to his belt, took it off and locked the door. Then they walked off in the direction of the kitchens, leaving Holock all alone in the passageway.

Holock was trying to sense which way Rathall had gone. He muttered a few words and a faint trail appeared, glowing softly on the floor, only visible to him. Holock followed the trail as it turned and twisted along the floor to the main set of spiral stairs then headed downwards. The trail behind him now started to disappear as it began to go cold, but the nearer Holock got to Rathall, the brighter the trail grew. After following the trail along three sections of The Great Oak and nine corridors later, he finally came to a great oak door, which was shut.

Holock put his ear to the door; he could hear someone hurrying around in the room inside. The room was a large study, with oak shelves all around the interior lined with books. There was a huge window which gave a magnificent view of the Emerald Forest and surrounding kingdom. In between one of the walls was a door, which was open, and inside was a bedchamber with the finest silk sheets laid out on the bed.

Back in the main study Velthrone was sitting at a large desk, which was piled high with books. One of the books was open face down on the desk, with its cover showing, which read ‘Warlord Rancore.’ There was a marvellous oak-carved bird stand in one of the corners, with three falcons perched upon it. Each one had a leather covering over their heads and on their right talons, they had a long leather strap, which was attached to the perch.

Velthrone sprung up from his desk as if he had forgotten something. He raced over to the door and turned the key, locking it shut. He returned to his desk, picked up a quill, dipped it into some ink, and started scribbling frenziedly on a piece of parchment in front of him.

He was so busy he didn’t notice Rathall, who had muttered and hissed a few words, and was now in his normal form, or as normal as his twisted dark power would let him. His hood was pulled over his reptile head. He twisted his body almost motionlessly and without a sound as he coiled his head to one side, giving him a perfect view of what Velthrone was writing.

Velthrone was writing so fast that sometimes he ran out of ink and wrote a few more words before he realised and re-dipped his quill.

Rathall began moving his reptile tail slowly over the floor in delight, relishing every word he was reading. But most of all, he was relishing the fact he was right.

Velthrone held the letter up and blew on the paper to help the ink dry faster, he then rolled it up, ever so small, and placed it into a little tight leather ring with two tassels in the middle, which he pulled tight, trapping the parchment in the middle.

Velthrone pushed his chair back and stood up to walk over to one of the falcons. As he turned his head, he came face to face with Rathal. Rathall darted out his black forked tongue, flicking it rapidly in front of Velthrone’s face.

AHHH! cried Velthrone as he jumped and half-fell backwards over his desk, sending books flying everywhere. He was in shock at seeing Rathall, but most of all at someone being in his room and seeing him write the note. Rathall slithered forward until their faces were almost touching again.

You forgot to sssign it, hissed Rathall, as he stared into Velthrone’s eyes. Velthrone, who had now had a very brief moment to weigh up the situation. Had come to the swift conclusion he was more scared of the snake-like beast that was staring at him than the note, and his body started to show it as he started to sweat. As he did, Rathall’s tongue flicked, tasting one of the beads of sweat running down Velthrone’s face.

You tassste ssscared, Rathall hissed with joy, at the displeasure he was inflicting on his prey. Why are you ssscared? You have no reassson to be ssscared of me. We... Rathall stopped and thought for a moment, have sssimilar goalsss, he hissed, and with that, he moved back from the table giving Velthrone some space and unwrapped his tail from around the advisor’s leg, which he had coiled around on instinct rather than to stop the advisor moving.

What do you want? asked Velthrone, somewhat shakily.

I don’t want anything, replied Rathall. The quessstion ssshould be, what can we do for each other?

Velthrone still lay sprawled out on his desk, half propped up by the remaining books that hadn’t vacated the table. Now Velthrone was confused. Aren’t you the sorcerer? Aren’t you the black raven?

At the mention of The Supreme Grand Master, Rathall hissed while his tail slashed around violently on the floor, catching and knocking over the advisor’s chair.

Do I look like a pathetic raven to you?he hissed in annoyance at the insulting question, all the while his head wove from side to side as he stared at Velthrone as if he was lining his prey up for the kill.

No, no, not at all, but all this talk about sorcerers and ravens, Velthrone added quickly. I just thought...

Well, you thought wrong, hissed Rathall, as he butted in.

What is it I can do for you? blurted out Velthrone, trying to save himself.

On hearing this, Rathall seemed to change, especially at the words do for you, which were his three favourite words. Rathall stopped bobbing his head from side to side and returned his tail to a slight involuntary movement that lapped gently over the floor.

Ah that’sss better, now then, there isss sssomething you can do for me, hissed Rathall as Velthrone took a deep gulp, not knowing what he had just let himself in for.

Sssend that messsage, then after that I think we’d better sssit down and go over a few plansss of our own, hissed Rathall, as he motioned his hand for Velthrone to proceed.

Velthrone, still a bit shaken, pushed himself off the desk with his elbows and walked over to the three falcons that were now restlessly trying to get off their perch. Velthrone took hold of one of the leather straps, pulling one of the fluttering birds down, and untied the leather restraint. He had a firm grip of the bird as it struggled to get free. Although they couldn’t see the danger, the birds of prey could sense it; as if it had somehow filled the whole room.

Velthrone threaded and tied the small leather ringlet, which was holding the note to one of the falcon’s talons. Then he proceeded to the huge open window, and with his arm outstretched held the falcon aloft while with the other he untied its hood, releasing the bird’s vision. In a blink of an eye, the bird had taken flight, soaring out over the trees, calling out as it went. Velthrone turned from the window and reluctantly looked at Rathall, wishing for a brief moment he’d been the falcon.

Well then, let’sss get down to busssinesss, hissed Rathall.

*

There was only about an hour’s worth of sunlight left. Torms was still sitting upon his rock, surveying the landscape for danger. While he had been there, he’d gone through the events in his head that they’d all been through so far, and he was wondering what he’d now be doing if he hadn’t found the Amberinth.

He thought he’d probably be in his workshop with the giant furnace going, mending or making something; he stretched out his hands to catch the sun’s rays. Momentarily closing his eyes, trying to remember the warmth of the furnace. His hands were like leather, over the years the hot flames and various metals had toughened them up. And if he was back home now, you could put a diamond on it that Sacul being somewhere nearby, wanting to know why he was heating this or that and when to take it out – he was a quick learner, thought Torms as he opened his eyes and gazed at Sacul.

Sacul caught Torms looking at him and gave his cousin a huge smile. That’s my Sacul, thought Torms. You can take him anywhere and put him anywhere, and no matter what’s happening, he’ll always pull out a smile. The approaching Captain broke Torms’s daydream.

Thank you for keeping us safe while we slept, came the voice of the Captain, who was walking down the track with five tankards in his hands, three in one and two in the other.

Ah, Captain, did you sleep well? asked Torms.

Like a coal miner’s mule, replied the Captain, which in dwarfen speech meant very well. I hope you don’t mind Torms, but I’ve told Odall to stay back at the camp. He insisted that he’d only come back to the camp to get some more drinks, but the poor fellow looked like he was going to drop, added the Captain.

Thank you, I kept telling him to have a break, but he insisted he would keep doing his bit.

And now let us do ours, said the Captain. I’ve sent two guards to take over from Nakie and Tennant, and two will be down shortly to relieve you. But for now, I’ll have to do, he said jokingly, as he passed Torms and Sacul a tankard of hot herbs each.

The Captain walked over to the twins; as he did, they woke up, jumping off their blankets with their hands on their weapons.

I thought I’d find you two here, said the Captain as he passed them a tankard each, leaving himself one. They