Chapter 1 Legacy
A Tale from Skyra
by T. J. Skywind
Location: Eastern side of the Starfall Mountains, south of Cedardale, northern Anzac
Date: Jan 12, 1990
Note: There is no sex in this story, but it is a preliminary tale to Dayanna of House Sorena. It's a straight adventure, introducing characters who will figure in later chapters.
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Within the first few minutes of the ambush, scores of seasoned elvish warriors were dead or dying, their bodies torn and broken like discarded dolls. Dozens of frost giants, some reaching eight meters in height, roared and sang, wielding their weapons like farmers harvesting grain.
The caravan was destroyed, its wagons broken by the huge boulders thrown by the giants. Even the horses weren't spared. All the weapons, foodstuffs, and healing herbs destined for the blockaded dwarven city of Miridor were lost.
Aelfin Thorn wiped the blood from his face. Only by chance did he see the coming axe and jump clear, too late to save his brave steed. A shadow loomed, and Aelfin looked up.
The towering frost giant boomed with laughter, pulling his great battle axe free from the dead horse. "Good jump there, Elf-ling. No difference. You're still going to die." Then the giant strode forward, the huge axe reaching for him.
Aelfin jumped back. Frost giants were strong, much stronger than either man or elf. Only the strongest fighters could withstand the physical force of combat without injury. Aelfin had no inclination to test himself directly. Arching and twisting, he backpedaled, desperately trying to put some distance between the giant and himself. His opponent pressed forward. Aelfin uttered words of summoning as he dodged, seeking a response. The next instant it was answered. The minor wind elemental whirled and blew snow about the giant's face. Taking advantage of the distraction, Aelfin suddenly rolled forward, slipping under the giant's guard. Using both hands, he swung at the gap between the chain shirt and leg guards. Steel sliced to bone, crippling the giant, and then he was away, barely dodging that deadly axe.
"Puking magicker!" roared the giant. He flailed uselessly at the minor wind spirit, then leaped to overbear Aelfin.
Aelfin jumped clear, then whirled and stabbed his long blade home into the exposed neck. The frost giant jerked and died. Pulling out his sword, a burst of cyan-colored blood sprayed, then pulsed onto the ground. Catching his breath, Aelfin scanned around. Three frost giants from the caravan's rear hurried up the narrow road toward him.
"Bright Lady," Aelfin breathed, then ran in the opposite direction, where he hoped his half-elven daughter Brianna and her human husband Moril still lived.
As Aelfin rounded the bend of the pass, his hopes soared. A handful of elves still fought back to back, though he saw they were surrounded by at least a dozen giants. The heavy trot of Aelfin's pursuers drew closer, their great strides rapidly closing the distance.
Muttering as he ran, the elemental answered his call once again, growing stronger with the added words of power. Behind him, snow gusted and swirled, blinding his pursuers. Aelfin charged ahead, through the line of giants, slicing deep into the back of one as he rushed on by. The monster roared and flailed about, barely missing Aelfin, then grabbed at the wound, cursing.
Hurtling forward, Aelfin nearly didn't see the spikes of ice littering the ground, his light feet passing through the dangerous terrain. The elves cheered as he reached their ranks. The spikes created a wide and dangerous perimeter around the elves, keeping the giants at a healthy distance. Crouching defensively, Aelfin realized he knew all the survivors. Rogeros, Solamancil, and Branthadan were warriors with a bit of magic like himself. The fourth defender was Melithia, a woodland priestess. All four of them held stout ash spears.
Lying on the ground, protected in the middle of their circle were two wounded. The mage Indurana coughed, blood spattering her chin. Her eyes registered pain and little else. The second one tore his heart. Moril! Deathly pale, Aelfin at first wondered if his son-in-law was already dead, but then he saw the man's hand twitch. Aelfin scanned about. Beyond their besieged circle, beyond the first shattered wagon at the head of the caravan, stood a defiant Brianna, her sword crackling with eldritch light. His daughter was alive! Scattered among the dozens of slain elves were several dead giants, the trampled snow splashed with red and blue.
Aelfin quickly wiped his sword before sheathing it. "Melithia, give me your spear and do what you can for the wounded."
The priestess nodded. When they shifted, two giants moved to melee, but Rogeros nicked one and the ice spikes did their work. Both giants retreated, the worse for their efforts.
"Did you see anyone else?" Solamancil asked.
Aelfin shook his head. "We are all that survive."
Solamancil nodded sadly. Almost a hundred slain.
"Why aren't they using boulders on us?" Aelfin asked.
"Indurana took out both their priests," Rogeros replied. "Even after she got hit, she managed to put up a warding spell. Unless they want to wait until tomorrow, no missiles will get through. Unfortunately, that affects us as well. Melithia put up the spikes of ice to keep them from overrunning us." He nodded at Indurana. "Broken ribs must have punctured her lung."
Hearing intense combat, Aelfin glanced back to where his daughter fought. He saw one giant fall back, pale-blue blood geysering from the stump of an arm. She whirled and met the axe of a second giant. A bright flash, a deafening shriek of metal tearing metal, and the axe shattered with explosive force. Without pausing, she snapped her sword up and sliced through the giant's thick steel hauberk as though it was paper. The giant screamed, then vanished in a thick cloud of dust, his body consumed by the incredible power of the sword.
Berek, the Life Slayer. The ancient weapon was aptly named, Aelfin thought.
A third giant tried to overbear Brianna from behind. She dodged and spun, stabbing upward, shattering shield and giant both. Using the giant's own leg as her springboard, she jumped clear as five tons of dying behemoth crashed to the ground. Brianna crouched as she landed, alert for the next attack. Those nearby moved out of her reach. To their cost, the frost giants were coming to understand she was a force to be reckoned with. With an ordinary long sword, Brianna was a skilled master and a deadly opponent for anyone to tangle with. Berek was an ancient blade, one of six swords forged fourteen centuries past by Rondar the Smith to fight the fell armies of Talso Tindalos and Samset Cstephion and their extra-planar lieutenants. King Donovan Sorena had been gifted with one of those six swords by Rondar. Most of the long-vanished nations, including the Kingdom of Sorena, were destroyed in the Great Cataclysm that followed. Even though King Donovan was slain and his kingdom drowned under the ocean, his heirs and the ancient weapon survived, passing unbroken from eldest to eldest. With Berek in her hands, Brianna Sorena was a deadly juggernaut.
Yet she was not invincible.
"Brianna!" Aelfin called. "You're bleeding!" The dark red streaks on her trousers and tunic filled him with alarm.
"Glad to see you finally made it!" she shouted back, her breath a white cloud in the cold air. "How is my husband?"
Her teasing filled him with relief. It was when she became sentimental that he knew she was truly hurt. Aelfin glanced at the priestess chanting over Moril before answering. "She's working on him now!"
Moril groaned, then coughed up blood. "Aelfin? I--I can't feel my legs." Melithia chanted louder, more intensely. Suddenly he sat part way up, reaching for him. "Take--take care of my girls!" he gasped, then died.
She sniffed his mouth and wound. "Poison!" Melithia turned to Indurana and began a new healing spell. Aelfin looked at Moril with great sadness. He could not tell her now. Her grief could make her reckless or even take the fight from her. Aelfin closed Moril's eyes before turning to watch his daughter.
Brianna took off her helmet and tossed it aside, shaking out her long red braid. In her best barracks voice, she shouted in Norse to the giants. "Come on, you putrid filth! A woman is killing you! Is this the best you can do? Come on! Pixies are braver than you are! And, they are better hung!"
Several frost giants retorted in kind. Then, one giant swaggered forward, pushing through the crowd. A large bundle of scalps hung from his belt, some of them fresh. His huge war axe glowed and shimmered, and his armor glinted with an unnatural light.
"Lady have mercy," whispered Rogeros. Aelfin swallowed. A frost giant with enchanted armor and weapons! What mage could be so foolish?
"I am Skrimli Dragonbane, Jarl of the Angrbodhim, scourge of the Starfall Mountains! I challenge you, elf-bitch!" the giant bellowed, shaking his axe.
The giants cheered and whistled raucously. The Nordic traditions of the frost giants, like the humans of the Northumbrian Confederacy the giants so often fought against, venerated single combat between leaders and champions, especially when both sides appeared evenly matched and the outcome uncertain. Unless the elves broke the temporary truce, they would be left alone until after the combat. If Skrimli won, the giants would quickly overrun the elves, gorging themselves on the slain. If their leader lost, there was a good chance the giants would retreat or even flee.
Brianna hawked and spat. "Amazing! Talking troll vomit!"
"Give your name, slut!" The giant yelled angrily, demanding she abide by the ritual.
She smiled mockingly, giving a slight bow. "Brianna Sorena of House Sorena, servant of the Lawgiver. My House and line are unbroken for eighteen centuries. I give fair warning, you pale putrescence, for all the friends you have killed this day, I intend to piss on your corpse!"
"Dark Hel take you!" Skrimli approached the half-elven warrior, his swagger full of arrogance. As he passed the elves, he sneered, "You're next!"
Shouting a war cry, Skrimli trotted forward, his war axe raised. Brianna took a step back, both hands on her sword hilt, then yelling, she sprang forward as a bright light burst forth about her. The intensity of the light made it hard to look at her. Skrimli shielded his eyes, his attack spoiled, his axe swinging out defensively. Brianna's blade, humming with power, whipped forward to meet it. Steel and magic clashed in a howling shower of splintered light.
Aelfin realized Melithia and Branthadan were quietly chanting, and he recognized it as a transit spell. Normally, he would expect Brianna to be victorious. The magical armor and weapons of the giant, combined with his great size and strength, however, put the outcome in doubt. Even with the fierce-some artifact she possessed, she could still be killed. The elves were preparing for a quick exit. "Come on, Brianna," he muttered. "You can take him."
As the long seconds of screeching metal became painful, elves and giants covered their ears. An instant later, there was a deafening explosion, and the shockwave threw both combatants far apart. Even the elves struggled to remain upright, nearly losing control of the spell they were building. Skrimli landed with a huge crash onto a wagon, a hunk of his shattered axe protruding prominently from his face. Stunned at how quickly it was over, everyone turned to Brianna.
More seconds passed, and the mountain above them answered with a cracking boom.
Several giants looked up fearfully, all thoughts of warfare banished. A wave of ice and snow broke loose and began down the mountain, quickly gathering speed.
The giants ran.
"Come on, Brianna!" yelled Aelfin desperately, but the growing din of the avalanche drowned him out.
