House Sorena Ch 01

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.

* * * * *

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.

Slowly, Brianna rolled over onto her stomach, then pulled herself upright. Sheathing her blade, she began a slow, shuffling run toward the elves, her tunic fully drenched with her own blood.

With a cry, Aelfin leaped up, only to be grabbed and held firmly by Solamancil and Rogeros. Brianna stumbled and fell. The enormous wall of ice and rock roared down at them. Twenty meters away, Aelfin could see the grim determination on his daughter's face as she struggled to her feet, the snow where she had fallen splashed with red.

"Let me go!" Aelfin struggled against their firm grip. "Brianna!" Fifteen meters!

"Stop it!" Rogeros shouted in his ear. "If you leave, you'll break the spell and kill us all!"

Ten meters!

Aelfin leaned toward her, straining against their fierce grip. "Hurry, Brianna!"

The ground and air about the circle of elves turned to grey mist as the magic began to coalesce. Brianna staggered, her hands outstretched, maddeningly close. With a great thunderous crash, the tsunami of ice, rock, and snow hit the pass just as the transit spell carried them to safety. All that is, but one.

The ground around the survivors solidified.

"Brianna."

Rogeros and Solamancil released him, and Aelfin collapsed to his hands and knees, shaking. Overwhelmed by grief, he wept freely. Far off in the distance, they heard the wake of the snow's destruction rumble and then echo into silence.

Several minutes later Rogeros returned. Aelfin hadn't even noticed he had been away.

"We are about ten kilometers northeast of our last position in the pass," Rogeros said. "We are closer to home, but we are also on the other side of the ravine, away from the road. Without magic, it will be very difficult to get across, and we can't manage that until tomorrow. Worse, we can't continue much further on this side of the ravine. I think I found some shelter, but I want to make sure it's safe first." As quickly as he'd arrived, Rogeros was off again, moving nimbly over narrow ledges and steep inclines.

Solamancil urged Aelfin to his feet. "We all ache with loss, my friend. We will mourn your daughter and her husband with all the other friends and kin we have lost this black day. Right now, we must be away from this open place." He looked at him sadly. "Aelfin, we must burn Moril's body. We are over a month away from our own borders, and as you know, there is no priest in Cedardale with the skill to restore life to anyone dead longer than a few days."

Indurana, who had the skill and power to take their small group home in an instant, lay on the ground, barely alive. Aelfin turned to Melithia. "You can't heal her?"

Melithia quietly placed her hand on Aelfin's shoulder, her own eyes heavy with emotion. "Indurana's bleeding inside. I spent most of my energy to kill and on defensive spells. I can only do minor healing with what little power I have left. I'm not even sure I can keep her alive."

Melithia had been Brianna's midwife, the first to hold his granddaughter, Dayanna. Brianna had once assured a room full of happy friends and a grandfather bursting with pride that the little girl was going to have many brothers and sisters. That promise would be forever unfulfilled. Dayanna was an only child now. Orphan. Aelfin cut away a lock of Moril's hair, then put Moril's dagger onto his belt, both as keepsakes for his granddaughter.

Standing, he nodded slowly, sniffing as he wiped at his eyes.

The priestess smeared holly berries over Moril's head, hands, stomach and feet. As she chanted the words of power, the body burst into flame. Except for Melithia, who was absorbed in the spell's incantation, the elves covered their noses at the stench of burning flesh, then stepped back as the heat grew. Snow hissed and melted, and in minutes, the body was reduced to white ash and puddles of cooling metal. Melithia began another chant, picking up bits of muddy earth, calling, cajoling while she produced a small sack. A cream-colored light settled over Moril's ashes, which then gathered into a mass and flowed into the sack. She added some incense and herbs into the bag, then gestured, placing a simple warding over the remains before handing it reverently to Aelfin. He placed the sack inside his jerkin. Though she said nothing, Aelfin could see she was shaking, visibly drained by the spells.

"Rogeros is signaling all is clear," Solamancil announced.

Aelfin scooped up the unconscious Indurana, the thin elf-woman surprisingly light. Branthadan pulled himself up, leaning on his spear, wounded as well as drained from his own contribution to the transit spell. Aelfin surveyed the battered group. Slowly, they started the climb after Rogeros.

They discovered the cave was indeed a lair, but one long since abandoned. By the litter of the nest, as well as the bones, feathers, and old spoor, Solamancil announced the former occupants to have been griffins. The elves were grateful they did not have to contest with the proud beasts for the shelter. Using the remains of the nest, they built a small fire and huddled around it, for comfort as much as warmth, and shared what meager food they had in their wallets.

There was little enough, but channeling magic without food and even rest could leave them tired, or even cause them to sicken. As the most fit, Rogeros, Solamancil, and Aelfin split the watch. As the light of the third sun began to fade to evening, Melithia quietly lifted her voice in an old song, and the others, as they were able, joined her.

Treasured hearts, beloved and true,

Laughter and hard labors shared,

Most precious the love we knew --

One more time to say I cared;

More than sorrow, more than a memory,

You've taken the low road away from me.

I knew you before the oak

Sprouted tall from acorn seed,

Knowing what my heart spoke,

You tended my heart and need --

More than sorrow, gentle a memory,

You've taken the low road away from me.

The wind keens your name to me

In the rustling green leaves;

I think of you lovingly,

Though tears are quiet, my heart grieves --

Past my sorrow, I ken your memory,

You've taken the low road away from me.

Hours slipped by as they whispered and sang of the fallen, of shared adventures and experiences, recalling as many as they could by name. Long past the rise of the second moon, their tired voices finally lapsed into quietude, and then to the wakeful dreaming of immortals.

In the predawn hour of the third watch, as he stood guard by the lair entrance, Aelfin suddenly felt a presence. He turned to make sure of his companions. Everyone was where he expected them to be; no unexpected intruders. When he turned to look outside their cave again, he saw her.

Brianna!

Aelfin was sure he did not dream. There she was, moving toward him. He felt no evil or unseemly presence, as often accompanied the Unseelie Court or their ilk. Indeed, she looked healthy, dressed just as she had been the day before their departure on this disastrous journey. And that was how he knew the truth of it.

Brianna stood near enough to touch him, but did not. Turning, she inhaled deeply as she stared out at snow-covered mountains luminous in the moons light. "It's beautiful tonight."

Aelfin felt compelled to ask. "Am I dreaming?"

Brianna smiled wistfully. "No,

Basha

. I had hoped to spend the next three or four centuries getting to know you better, you of whom I am so proud. And my beloved Moril, I did so want to give him a houseful of children, and to grow old and grey by his side. Now, none of that will be." Brianna touched his cheek. Aelfin shivered at her caress. "Dayanna is the heir to House Sorena, the last of our line unbroken, eldest child to eldest child. She is our hope now. Will you live and raise her in our new home,

Basha

?"