#ganlin

Ganlin was chained in with the other prisoners, and he could hear some of them laughing behind him. Ganlin kept staring forward as the group began moving down.

Walking was unexpectedly easy, as long as he tried to keep his movement entirely in his legs rather than his back, the wounds were not agitated too much.

Ganlin felt something wet on his shoulder, making him recoil as it hit him. He turned his head around to see a prisoner behind him to his left smirking at him. Ganlin looked down towards his shoulder to see spit running down his skin. Ganlin felt his anger rising, but stuffed it down. There was nothing to be done.

They made it to the floor of the quarry, and Ganlin was given his pickaxe and sent off to work on a section of rock along with the other prisoners. Ganlin went over to part of the rock and raised his pick above his head, then almost collapsed as he swung it down into the rock.

The movement of his back from the swing stretched out his wounds, making the pain rear its head like some hideous beast. Ganlin took a moment to catch his breath, then grit his teeth and began his second swing.

The day trundled on slowly, like an old shenjaw that was out of the water. The sun got high, and it was an unusually warm day, causing Ganlin to start sweating. The moisture running into his wounds made them sting, but Ganlin fought the pain as viciously as he could, turning it into energy he could use for striking down at the rocks.

A cold splash landed on Ganlin, right on top of his head.

He turned around to see if someone else had spit at him, but noone was close enough to him to be able to hit him like that. Another spot of wetness landed on him, this time on his shoulder.

Ganlin looked up in bewilderment. Above him was a thin, dark cloud. Another drop of water came from the sky and landed on his forehead. Ganlin stared up at the sky in amazement as more and more drops came down. He had heard tales of such a thing, occurring on the coast of Ank’har. What was it called again?

It didn’t matter. The water felt wonderful to Ganlin, it was a near holy experience as he felt it more drops come down and land on him, rolling down his skin. It was a wondrous sight, a wondrous feeling.

A whip cracked across the stone just next to Ganlin, making him snap his eyes open and turn to the guard who was standing before him, sneering with their whip in hand.

“What’s wrong, foreigner? Never seen some rain before? Get back to work before I make you.”

Rain. It’s called rain.

Ganlin turned back to the rock and continued mining, his spirits lifted by the rain. Ganlin mumbled the word to himself.

“Rain.”

It was a fun word to say, and Ganlin thought it perfectly represented how the rain made him feel. It was a good word, even from the mouth of a sneering guard. Ganlin enjoyed the sound of it. Just thinking about it calmed him somehow, gave him the strength to push through the pain his back was in, and just keep mining.

As the day drew on, the sky got darker, and the drops of rain got heavier. The guards kept the prisoners working as usual though, and Ganlin didn’t mind. The air was getting colder, and Ganlin felt himself shivering, but he didn’t care, he enjoyed the rain too much. Something about it was just so magical. Even the sound it made as it hit the stone was beautiful to Ganlin. Water had always been something precious to him, he was Ank’haran, after all. It’s not like he had never seen water before, the clans always planned their movements around the Osae-lakes so that they could collect any water that they may have needed for the animals.

Still though, something about the rain just felt so… inexplicably precious to Ganlin. That was the only way he could think of it. It was as if his entire life in Ank’har was missing something, and that thing was the rain, falling from the sky.

Eventually, the foreman called for everyone to stop their work, and Ganlin was being chained up with all the other prisoners.

The rain kept falling in fat, steady drops as the guards began leading them up the ramp and back into the prison walls. The ground was slippery from the water, and for once the ascent was slow, the guards not wanting to risk injury by forcing prisoners to move any faster than they already were.

Ganlin kept looking up at the sky, having to throw his head back from time to time to flick his wet hair away from his eyes so he could stare up at the mesmerising sky, darkened by the grey and black clouds that blocked out the sunlight. He savoured the way each drop splashed across his skin.

Then he almost tripped.

There was a foot stuck out in front of him, and Ganlin almost fell over as he just managed to step over it, stumbling forward and almost slipping on the wet rocks as he managed to right himself up again. His movements echoed throughout the procession, putting their movement to a halt as all the prisoners swayed before finding their footing again.

The guards gave the group a collective glare before one of them said “Careful with it.” and everyone got moving again.

Ganlin looked to his right at the prisoner who tried tripping him, but the prisoner kept their eyes straight ahead, not meeting Ganlin’s gaze. His glance at that prisoner almost cost him as the prisoner on the other side of him tried to trip him while he was distracted. Ganlin came even closer to tripping, and the impact on the whole group was even more extreme. None of the prisoners fell, but it took some time for the group to be in a position to keep moving again. The guards sounded agitated as they yelled for the group to keep moving. People were beginning to whisper and look towards Ganlin, all of them knowing that he was the one who fell, but not knowing the reason why.

A few more steps, and another foot. Ganlin was prepared for that one, and stepped over it without issue. He wasn’t, however, expecting the person chained in front of him to stop mid stride, making Ganlin ram into their back. The impact sent them stumbling forward as Ganlin fell back over the opposite direction, his back smashing against the sharp rocks.

As the prisoners fell over into each other, some of them started shouting at and pushing each other, making all the other prisoners even more agitated.

The group fell into pandemonium as prisoners started attacking those that fell into them, guards started attacking prisoners, and some prisoners began trying to break free of their chains while the guards were distracted, eager to make a run for freedom.

Ganlin was yanked back up to his feet as the whole group shifted, and was greeted by a fist swinging towards his face. He ducked out of the way, just avoiding tripping by bouncing off the back of somebody behind him, and shoulder checked the person who swung at him. The two of them almost fell down, but the chains ran out of slack before they could, causing Ganlin to land on top of the other prisoner, both of them suspended above the ground.

Ganlin’s foe began swinging their arms down at Ganlin’s back, making him scream in pain as the metal cuffs bashed into his back wounds.

Ganlin, desperately trying to use what little arm movement he had to punch the enemy in the torso, lunged forward in a frantic move and bit into his enemy’s shoulder. Ganlin heard him scream as the mob of prisoners moved again, pulling Ganlin away and into the chest of someone else entirely. Ganlin slipped and fell over, his movement inhibited by the chains, but before he could hit the ground somebody picked him up and put one of their arms around his neck, trying to choke him.

As Ganlin struggled against the attack by throwing his elbows back into the torso of the brute, another prisoner ran towards Ganlin, their intent to attack clearly written on their face.

Ganlin threw up his leg to kick them away, but forgot that his legs were kept together by the manacles around his ankles. The complete misallocation of his centre of balance made him fall again, taking many of the people around him down with him.

Ganlin was at the bottom of a heap of bodies that were all kicking, grabbing, and punching. Ganlin did what he could to defend himself from the brawl by drawing his legs closer to his chest and pushing away any hostile limbs that came too close to him.

The noise was near unbearable; a constant roaring of voices that was smothered by the press of bodies on Ganlin. There was shouting, screaming, the smack of people hitting each other and of people falling hard against the rocky ground. All Ganlin could do was focus on breathing as he swung out at anyone who was reaching for him, trying to proactively protect himself from any attacks. A stray elbow came back and smacked into Ganlin’s left eye, stunning him. Someone was punching his legs. His back was in an unspeakable amount of pain, and he could feel himself starting to become dizzy, almost as though he had stood in the hot sands of Ank’har without shade or water for too long.

Suddenly, the pressure on his chest was easing. The sounds of the brawl were dying down. The person above Ganlin was suddenly lifted and cold drops of rain landed on Ganlin’s face. People were picking him up, too. He couldn’t put together who, a guard, maybe. As Ganlin was pulled further and further, he realized that his chains had been broken, and the prisoners were disconnected from each other. Ganlin still felt dizzy. Tired, too. It was hard for him to concentrate, to piece together any thoughts that made sense. His head hurt. He was dizzy. He fell asleep.

Ganlin was consumed by pain the very moment he awoke. He was laid down on his back, the tender skin rubbing against the ground. Dirt, he thought. After the pain, he felt raindrops against his skin; it was still raining. How could the sky contain so much water? He cleared the thought from his head and tried to concentrate on his current situation. He opened his eyes to try and get a sense of his surroundings, but his left eye was swollen, making it difficult to see through it. With his right eye he could tell that it was night time, and that he was outside. His limbs were bound together in chains, preventing him from moving anything other than his head. He turned it to look in one direction and saw the main gate of the prison, confirming that he was in Silvirtharn’s front courtyard. Turning his head the other way, Ganlin saw he wasn’t the only one in his position; five other prisoners were chained up on the ground, the six of them forming a line outside the front door to the main building.

Past the prisoners, Ganlin saw a group of guards erecting a tall wooden pole. Ganlin’s heart trembled at the side of it, his dread rising as it was fully put up and some guards came over to the lined up group of prisoners and grabbed the one that was farthest away from Ganlin. The two guards lifted up the prisoner and dragged them over, chaining them to the pole the same way they did with Ganlin. After tying him, the guards stood back and waited, watching the prisoner writhe as they woke up and tried to get out of their bindings.

The prisoner’s cries were silenced when the door to the prison opened and a group of people walked through it into the courtyard. Ganlin recognized three of the six people as the prison’s highest ranking officials; the foreman, the captain of the guard, and the warden. The others Ganlin couldn’t see clearly enough in the darkness to even know if he recognized them. The tallest one of those Ganlin didn’t recognize was holding a small box of something, and they seemed to be taking great care with it; something precious was clearly stored inside. The group was led by the captain of the guard to the main gate, where they stopped and talked for a few more brief moments before the door was opened and the strange half of the group walked out.

The three leaders of Silvirtharn spoke in low, hushed tones as they walked back across the courtyard, the foreman and warden heading inside while the captain of the guard stayed outside.

Once the door to the prison closed, the captain turned and strode towards the pole, stopping a few strides away. A guard walked up to the captain and provided them with a whip. The captain spoke as they worked upon unraveling it.

“After today’s incident in the quarry, each prisoner who had remained conscious was questioned about the event. Many of them pointed to you as having been one of the main aggressors. For your involvement in this, and your attacks against the other prisoners. You shall receive fifteen lashes.”

The ship cracked through the air the second the captain finished their sentence. Ganlin closed his good eye and turned away as the whip struck the prisoner’s back. Ganlin tried to ignore it, attempting to focus on anything else that he could instead; the way the hard ground felt on his back, how much each of wounds hurt, the fact that his left leg was itchy and no matter how he tried to contort his body the chains wouldn’t allow him to reach enough to scratch it. He tried to tune out the sounds of the whip and listen to the rain instead, but that did nothing but make the prisoner’s cries even more noticeable.

Time dragged on slowly, and dread gripped Ganlin’s body tighter and tighter as the guards went down the line and grabbed the prisoner’s for their punishment. The harshness of the punishment became more severe with how involved the prisoners were with what had happened in the quarry. The first prisoner received fifteen lashes, then the number went up to twenty, then twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five. At one point during one prisoner’s whipping, the captain of the guard had to stop to take a break, remarking that their arm was growing tired.

Ganlin’s head had become a dark pit of nothingness when the guards finally picked him up, dragging him towards the wooden pillar and tying his wrists above it. To a degree, it didn’t even feel real to Ganlin, it was almost like he was floating or in a dream, merely watching it happen rather than experiencing it.

“After today’s events in the quarry, each prisoner that was still conscious afterwards was questioned concerning the event.” The captain said, reciting what they had said to each prisoner before. “There were a few conflicting recollections of what had happened, as is natural, however all of them point to one immutable fact. That fact is that you were the prisoner responsible for it all, being careless with where you stepped, causing the near-falls of the group, and becoming aggressive when those near you became frustrated with carelessness.”

Ganlin wasn’t listening, choosing instead to focus on the sound of the rain against the ground and against the wood of the pole, desperate to keep his thoughts away from what was about to happen.

“As punishment for being the main cause of the brawl that happened today, you shall receive forty lashes, and be subjected to the pit for two days.”

Pit? Ganlin had never heard mention of any pit? What was the pit?

Thoughts were destroyed as the first lash hit his back, scattering his thoughts into oblivion as the strike undid any healing his other wounds may have managed. Ganlin grit his teeth through the second. Screamed at the third. Was crying by the seventh. Fell unconscious at the twelfth.

-End of Chapter 8-

<-Previous Chapter

They were on the top of the wall, now, and all along it, guards stood. Each guard stood facing inwards, looking down on the courtyard to insure that no prisoner was escaping, from time to time looking over the other side of the wall, to see if anyone was approaching the prison.

The stranger led Ganlin in a straight line, waiting for guards to cross from one side of the wall to the other before moving forward.

Once they were close to one of the corners, the stranger stopped again, speaking to Ganlin in a low whisper, their voice very close to his ear.

“Do you have any experience in climbing, Ank’haran?”

Ganlin shook his head; Ank’hara was mostly sand dunes, meaning one didn’t have to climb very often, if at all. Some areas of the desert had large rocks that stood out from the sand, but Ganlin had never climbed them as he had simply never seen a reason to.

“If you’re trying to answer without speaking, Ank’haran, I can’t see it. Speak.” The stranger spoke again.

Remebering that the stranger’s strange concoction had made Ganlin’s body disappear, he spoke in as low a whisper as he could manage.

“No. I never had to before.”

The stranger said something that Ganlin thought was probably an expletive of some kind.

“Alright, well. You can’t see me, so you can’t follow my lead, but I’ll do my best to guide you before we start going down.”

The stranger moved his hand to a certain part of the wall. “I’ll climb down first, you wait a couple seconds and then start moving down as well. Start off with your left hand right where I have it now, then swing your legs over, and put your right hand here.” The stranger slid his hand down to a different part of the wall. “Then let yourself fall off the wall without letting go of it. Move your feet around a bit and you should be able to find parts of the wall that stick enough for you to place them. Maybe look before you start coming down, see if you can notice any ahead of time. Then move your hands as far down as you can. One at a time, of course. Then move your legs again, and keep doing that until you’re back on the ground. If you need to, you can probably jump once you’re about halfway down the wall, just try to roll as you hit the ground. Good luck.”

With those words, Ganlin felt the stranger let go of his hand, and heard the subtle sound of scraping stone as they began making their way down the wall.

Ganlin waited a few seconds, then took a deep breath as he followed the strangers instructions, grabbing two different parts of the wall and swinging his legs over. His body hung in the air as Ganlin swung his legs around, trying to find a place to put his feet.

Eventually his feet scraped against a part of the wall that stuck out from the rest of it. Ganlin settled his weight onto it, then reached down with one of his hands to look for another spot.

Ganlin’s descent was achingly slow, finding places to put his feet and hands was difficult, at times Ganlin would begin settling his weight on one part of the wall, but then he would feel it shift, and he’d have to pull back from it and find a different perch. Bit by bit, Ganlin managed to make his way farther down the wall, letting himself drop when he was about half his height away from the ground. Once he landed, the stranger spoke again.

“You made it? Good. Now head for the tree line, directly in front of us.”

Ganlin did as he was told, crouching as he snuck forward to the trees.

Hiding behind one of them, Ganlin let out a large sigh of relief as he sagged against the wood. All of the muscles in Ganlin’s body softened as he allowed himself to rest, he unclenched his jaw, having never realized he had begun clenching it at any point.

He was out. Free from Silvirtharn. His body began shaking as he felt a smile come to his face. He almost laughed, stopping himself so he didn’t reveal himself.

Freedom was his! He still had to deal with whatever the stranger you saved him wanted, but he was finally free from Silvirtharn, and would finally be able to make good on his oath to Madelna and the other peoples of that small village. Ganlin tried to run his hand through his hair, but misjudged where his hand was, poking himself in the eye.

“Ow!”

As he gently rubbed his eye better, Ganlin heard the swishing of some of the grass. The stranger spoke to him.

“Are you here, Ank’haran?”

They asked.

“Yes, I am. Thank you for your help.” Ganlin replied.

The space in front of Ganlin shimmered and smoked, the air peeling itself back around itself to reveal the stranger.

Ganlin’s guess was confirmed; it was one of the strangers he had seen. They stood at about half a head taller than Ganlin, and their face had soft features, with a nose that gently sloped back up towards the sky. They wore robes that were tightly bound over the rest of their clothes. A necklace of strange objects hung around their neck.

“Your thanks are unnecessary, Ank’haran. Follow me, my master would like to speak with you, and we can tend to your wounds at our camp.”

The thought of not following flashed across Ganlin’s mind, but his wounds did ache, and it would be easier to travel if they were healed, so he followed the stranger.

They made their way through the forest, the trees blocking out most of the moonlight, Ganlin following the stranger’s silhouetted figure. As they walked, Ganlin realized that he was able to see his body again as it slowly became more and more visible.

Ganlin slowed as the stranger came to a stop, rapping their knuckles against the closest tree in a way that sounded almost like a song. A few seconds later, a similar sound came from a bit farther ahead, finishing the song the stranger’s knock had started.

The stranger stood up straighter, seeming to relax a bit, then walked forward, pushing aside the branches of two trees that had grown so close to each other that they seemed to have become one. Ganlin followed them.

Ganlin stepped through the branches into a small clearing, where a small fire gently crackled in the centre.

The other two figures who occupied the clearing were the other two strangers who had visited Silvirtharn along with Ganlin’s rescuer. The tallest one was dressed in armor with a long blade by their side, and was embracing Ganlin’s rescuer. The other, shorter stranger sat by the fire, dressed in robes that had an interweaving pattern of red and blue, was looking up at Ganlin, the fire casting their face in shadow.

“You, Ank’haran.” they said, not breaking their gaze. “Tell me your name.”

Ganlin shifted uncomfortably as the other two broke their embrace and looked at Ganlin as well, waiting for an answer.

“My name is Ganlin Hardell. What is it you want? Do you come from Ludilakir?”

The stranger by the fire made an expression that Ganlin couldn’t quite place, then patted the ground next to them.

“I did not come here from Ludilakir, but I did live there, once, a long time ago. Sit with me, Ganlin, we have much to talk about, and your injuries must be tended to.” Ganlin sat next to them, and they continued speaking as they looked over the wounds on Ganlin’s back.

“My name is Lyzdrik.” They said as they prodded at Ganlin’s wounds, making him hiss.

“You’ve already met Elizarthe, she is my apprentice. And he,” they gestured to the tall man, “is Rollan. I hired him some time ago as a bodyguard, which has become only more necessary these days. Your wounds are worse than I thought, give me a moment.”

Lyzdrik stood up and walked away from the fire, opening up a back that was laying on the ground.

“Alright, Lyzdrik.” Ganlin said, eager to maybe get some answers. “Why did you free me? You said you haven’t been to Ludilakir in a long time, why?”

Lyzdrik came back with a small box, opening it and taking out two small blue gems that glittered in the firelight. Vievstone, Ganlin realized. Lyzdrik handed one of the small stones to Ganlin.

“Hold this, it’ll help the process.”

Ganlin took the stone, and Lyzdrik moved behind Ganlin again, placing a hand on his back as he continued speaking.

“Deep breath in, this may feel strange to you.”

Ganlin took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air as Lyzdrik got to work.

A cold feeling slid down Ganlin’s back, then spread throughout his entire body. All of Ganlin’s muscles felt numb. The wizard continued speaking as they healed Ganlin.

“To answer your questions, I spent some time as an acolyte in Ludilakir, some forty odd years ago. I went there to learn magic, as I knew that I had the natural gift for it. While there, I served as an assistant to one of the Watchers, a man by the name of Myrlarn. He is the one who you’ve been seeing in your dreams.”

Ganlin’s body went cold, and not due to Lyzdrik’s magic.

“How do you know about those?” Ganlin asked, standing up and backing away from the group. He scanned the area for a way to escape, or barring that, a weapon.

“I know because Myrlarn told me about it, even back then you were in his visions. He didn’t tell me much, just that he was having visions of an Ank’haran, fighting in the ruins of a burning skal, trapped within the eye of a raging storm. He said he even managed to somehow connect his mind to this Ank’haran in his visions, and that they said he was locked away in Fort Silvirtharn.” They reached forward and took the vievstone from Ganlin’s hand and placed both gems back in the box before closing it. “You’re welcome, by the way.” They said as they went to place the box back by the pack.

Ganlin’s reeling mind was pulled back into the moment as he realized that his back, no, his entire body, felt better, stronger. Reaching a hand over his shoulder, he felt at his back. His wounds were almost entirely gone, replaced by faint scars. Awed by the power, Ganlin spoke.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you.” Then, Ganlin remembered the rest of what Lyzdrik had said.

“He told you that he had linked with me then? But I thought you said that you said you haven’t been to Ludilakir in a long time?”

Lyzdrik finished packing away the box and stood up, turning back towards Ganlin.

“I haven’t been. In fact, I left Ludilakir close to thirty years ago.”

Ganlin swayed, his legs becoming unsteady as his mind whirled.

“How? I wasn’t even alive thirty years ago? How could he have spoken to me?”

Lyzdrik crossed the clearing and sat back down in front of the fire, pushing some of the kindling around with a stick that he then threw into the fire.

“I’m not entirely sure. Myrlarn was powerful among the Watchers, probably the most powerful. Beyond that, he also had many other things to help expand his powers, vievstone, violet-lillies, and the like. It’s been a long time since I’ve studied the magics of Foresight, but I would say that it’s the strangest among the six houses, a fickle thing, foresight. Any conversation you had with Myrlarn existed outside of time, and the Ganlin he was speaking to may not have actually been you, but rather the version of you most likely to occur. Foresight is difficult to explain, and I am hardly an expert on it. The best advice I can give you is this; the less you think about it, the less your head will hurt and the easier your life will be. Foresight is closer to gambling than actually being able to see the future.”

Ganlin sat down, staring blankly at the fire as he tried to follow Lyzdrik’s advice, but failed. What did any of that even mean? How could something exist outside of time, something that no one was supposed to be able to escape?

The mere action of thinking about it made Ganlin’s head hurt. He shook it off and asked another question.

“That is why you released me then? To help your old master?”

“Essentially, yes.” Lyzdrik responded. “After finding you, Myrlarn began focusing his time on trying to find out where you were. Silvirtharn wasn’t a prison until somewhat recently, about five years ago. Before that it was just a fort, inhabited by a lord and his men. They rarely kept prisoners. Then that lord fell out of favour, the keep mostly forgotten, then given to the warden as a prison. For the majority of the time Myrlarn has been searching for you, there wasn’t even a place to look.My master became frustrated, withdrawn. I left because he was too focused on trying to find you rather than teaching me.” Lyzdrik’s eyes narrowed as they said that, a bitter look quickly coming to their face before quickly disappearing again.

“Since he no longer had the motivation to teach me, I left, went to learn different magic.”

“At Maeschekyole?” Ganlin asked, explaining further as Lyzdrik looked at him. “Elizarthe mentioned something about a place called Maeschokyole when she spoke to the warden last morning.”

Lyzdrik’s eyes flicked towards Elizarthe, then back at Ganlin.

“Yes. Maeschokyole lies in the kingdom of Mijyark, Northeast of here. Other kingdoms have organizations and buildings that teach magic, but amongst the Northkingdoms, Maeschokyole has the best. After my time at Ludilakir I was sick of Foresight, and so I went to Maeschokyole and studied the magics of Restoration and Conjuration instead. The three of us,” They gestured towards Elizarthe and Rollan, “Were sent here by Maeschkyole, as word of Silvirtharn’s vievstone deposit had spread amongst the Mystae all over the North-Kingdoms. The council there sent us to try and negotiate a deal with the warden, be it coin or whatever else he may want. Once we arrived here, I remembered that Silvirtharn was the place that Myrlarn had always talked about. From the moment I entered the grounds I was looking at each prisoner, looking for you.”

Lyzdrik stopped talking, taking a moment to drink some water and stare at the fire. Letting their voice replenish. Ganlin waited silently. They spoke again.

“Once I saw you, I knew it was you. Myrlarn was never able to fully see you when the two of you talked, you were always blurry to him, but you matched the description he had given me, all those years ago. So I sent Elizarthe to release you, since she’s studied Illusion.”

The clearing was enveloped by silence as Lyzdrik finished talking. Eventually, Ganlin spoke.

“So what’s next then?”

“We take you to Ludilakir, hand you over to Myrlarn, then the three of us shall return to Maeschokyole. I’m in no hurry to return there, the vievstone is good, but it’s clear that, for whatever reason, the warden is not as interested in our offers as he acts to be.”

The second half of what Lyzdrik said went ignored by Ganlin, who had stopped listening after his worries were confirmed. They were planning to take him to Ludilakir, so Myrlarn could attempt to figure out why he and Ganlin had somehow been connected to each other. Ganlin didn’t want that, it was a waste of his time. He needed to return to that Skal and make good on his oath, and make up for his failure by punishing himself in any way they requested, that was the only way that Ganlin would be able to restore the honour he had lost by allowing himself to be taken to Silvirtharn. If he went to Ludilakir, it would take him even longer to return, and he would lose what remaining honour his soul may still carry.

Ganlin stood up, and the other three people in the clearing looked towards him as he spoke.

“From the bottom of my soul, I thank you all for your help. Both for rescuing me, and for treating my wounds, but I cannot go with you. I have made an oath to the people of a small Skal, I believe Southwest of here, if my direction has not been too muddled by my time in Silvirtharn.

My time in that prison stopped me from fulfilling the oath I made to them, but now that I am free I can finally serve them as I was meant to. Tell Myrlarn that I shall come one day, or he could come to me, if he so likes, but I am not going to Ludilakir. Not yet.”

With that, Ganlin strode forward through the underbrush and went to fulfill his oath.

-End of chapter 10-

<-Previous Chapter

Their words made Ganlin stop walking for a moment as he considered what Lyzdrik said. He thought of his armour and spirxe, probably sitting in some container in the corner of a room in Silvirtharn. Considering the warden’s love of money, it wasn’t entirely impossible that Ganlin’s weapons were gone, sold off to some wealthy Alsaid, or whatever it was the Northerners called those of high political standing. Internally, Ganlin made an oath to himself that he would find his weapon and armour again someday, it was Ank’haran, and as such should be in the possession of one. That’s what he would do after he helped the skal, he decided. He would go to Myrlarn, and maybe the wizard’s powers could help Ganlin track his belongings down.

That was for later though, first he had to help the skal. Ganlin pushed Lyzdrik out of the way as he spoke.

“I’ll find one.”

Lyzdrik made a noise that sounded like a startled alcht.

“Find one?” They asked, seemingly bewildered.

“I don’t know how it works in Ank’har,” they continued, “but there’s not exactly weapons laying around to be picked up. The only way to get one is to take one. What is one man going to do, anyway? If there’s an issue that is causing them so much trouble that they need someone with a weapon to handle it, then leave it to the king’s soldiers! It’s their job to solve problems with violence!”

Ganlin spun around to face Lyzdrik.

“The problem cannot be solved by soldiers, wizard: the soldiers are the problem. The warriors of Lady Sivna are occupying the skal, robbing food from those who lack enough to support themselves. I made an oath to put an end to the injustice, and so I shall.”

Lyzdrik took a long look at Ganlin before they spoke again.

“Why were you put in Silvirtharn, Ank’haran? If you’re coming from Ank’har, the first kingdom you enter should be Sitar, how did you end up in Kalwast?”

“I was in Sitar, that was where I was taken prisoner.” Ganlin replied.

“By Kalwastian soldiers?” Lyzdrik asked.

Ganlin thought back to the day Sivna had taken him prisoner, trying to remember all the words she said.

“The commander of the soldiers who took me,” Ganlin began, his memories clearing in his mind “Said they came under the protection of the crown of Kalwast.”

Lyzdrik looked at Ganlin, their face heavy with concern as they processed his words. Then they cursed.

“So,” they said, “It seems even here, there are the beginnings of violence in motion.”

They turned and motioned for Ganlin to follow them.

“Very well then. I ask that you stay with us, for the night at least. Get some well needed rest. I won’t try to stop you from leaving, but if you stay the night I’ll do what I can to send you in the right direction to this skal you speak of. What you’ve just told me is troubling, very troubling.” and with that, they turned away and began walking back to the clearing. Ganlin looked at them, thinking about their offer. He didn’t want to admit it, but Lyzdrik was right, Ganlin needed any help that he could get. His bones ached as well, emphasizing just how badly his body needed the rest.

Ganlin sighed, then followed Lyzdrik.

Both Elizarthe and Rollan looked at Ganlin as he stepped into the clearing after Lyzdrik. They pointed towards one spot on the ground.

“You can sleep there, Ank’haran.”

Ganlin went to where Lyzdrik had indicated and laid down, listening to them talk to Elizarthe and Rollan in a hushed tone.

“He’s staying the night with us, but leaving in the morning.” Ganlin heard Lyzdrik say. “He just gave me some troubling news. It seems that King Jalvyg has begun moving his armies into Sitar.”

Ganlin thought it was Elizarthe he heard gasp, but he was facing away from them all, so he couldn’t tell for sure.

“Why does it seem all the kings have become so bloodthirsty so suddenly?” Elizarthe asked.

“They’re kings, Eliza,” said a voice which Ganlin didn’t recognize. Rollan, then. “All kings will eventually begin to thirst for blood, it is in their nature.”

“It’s true that the Kingdoms have a long history of violence,” Lyzdrik was speaking again, “But Elizarthe is wise to be worried, Rollan. With the news of this occupation, and with everything happening in the West, this might become more than just skirmishes between kingdoms, but a true war, across all fourteen, maybe kingdoms not from the North-Kingdoms will join as well. We must be cautious moving forward, and tomorrow we leave straight for Maeshokyole. The council must be warned of these developments at once. Rollan, put out the fire and get some rest, you won’t be needed tonight, Elizarthe and I will be working throughout the night.”

Ganlin heard Rollan step away from the other two, kicking dirt on the fire and walking over to one of the bedrolls.

“All night, master?” Elizarthe asked. “How much are we doing tonight?”

“We aren’t doing much at all, apprentice,” replied Lyzdrik, “just one thing, in fact, but it will take us all night to work on it. You shall help me make a guardian for our Ank’haran friend. Quickly now, gather your materials, it will take long enough already without you dakking about it.”

“Yes, master.” Elizarthe quickly replied, hurrying over to her pack and grabbing it, bringing it back over to Lyzdrik.

Ganlin felt his curiosity heighten. What were they making, and in what way could it help Ganlin? He rolled over to look at them, but since the fire was out he could only make out their silhouettes, side by side, working on something in the moonlight.

Ganlin was eager to know what it was they were doing, but he was exhausted, and soon enough his eyelids became too heavy, and the veil of sleep had them.

For the first time in a long time, Ganlin didn’t have any dreams as he slept through the night. Absolutely none at all. Even the disjointed ones that had begun to plague him were gone, allowing him to actually rest during his unconscious hours.

When Ganlin awoke, the sky was a dark purple as the trees blocked the light of the rising sun from view.

Ganlin stretched, his body feeling better than it had in weeks, then sat up to look around.

The other packs belonging to the other three were lined up against some trees, ready for the moment they left. Just next to them Rollan sat cross legged, sharpening the long blade he carried.

On the other side of the clearing Elizarthe and Lyzdrik were sitting, still in the same place they were when Ganlin fell asleep. Elizarthe sat with her eyes closed and had her hands to her chest, clutching something. Lyzdrik sat opposite to her, and was whispering something under their breath, also toying with something in their hands.

Ganlin turned to Rollan to ask him if he knew what they were doing when something streaked right past him, just inches away from his face.

Ganlin spun around as the object flew past him, and his eyes followed it as it went across the clearing, suddenly turning upwards before it could hit the wizard or their apprentice.

The object, which Ganlin could now tell was a creature of some sort, flew in a circle in the air, just above the treeline, before coming down again, landing between Lyzdrik and Elizarthe.

As they both opened their eyes, Ganlin stood up and walked over to the two of them.

“Very nice work,” Lyzdrik said to Elizarthe “You’re getting better. Nice work indeed.”

“Thank you, master.” Elizarthe replied shyly.

“What was that?” Ganlin asked as he approached them, looking down at the creature that stood between the wizards.

Elizarthe looked up towards Ganlin. “Something to help you on your way.” She said, the creature hopping into her hand as she raised it up towards Ganlin.

Upon closer inspection, Ganlin saw that the creature was an Alcht, though unlike any that he had seen.

For one thing, it was smaller than most alchts he had seen. All the ones in Ank’har were at least twice as big, some being so big that their wings weren’t able to carry them into the sky. The alcht in front of him was maybe the size of Ganlin’s head, with its wings tucked away by its side. The alcht turned its head, seeming to assess Ganlin as he did the same to it. Ganlin watched as the alcht excitedly shook its wings, its red scales making a soft tinkling noise as it shifted. Ganlin noticed that there was also a red outline around the alcht itself, going beyond the scales, leaving a hint of an afterimage behind. Ganlin asked Elizarthe about it.

“You can notice it?” She asked, seeming a little embarrassed about it. “Hopefully it’s not too noticeable, I was a bit sloppy with conjuring it.”

“Conjured?” Ganlin replied, stupefied by what he was looking at, “So it’s not real?”

Lyzdrik was the one to answer Ganlin’s question, looking through their pack and taking out some strange looking violet plants.

“In what sense do you use the word ‘real’, Ank’haran? The orspurv is certainly here, taking up space.” Lyzdrik used what Ganlin had to assume was the Northern word for an alcht. “You can reach out and touch it, and it will react to that. It has some sort of instinct, although that instinct was designed by Elizarthe and I. The red you can see is due to the effort of creating it. Sometimes, when conjuring, you can make mistakes that are hard to notice until you’ve already finished what you were creating. The colour you see is the conjuration leaking magic, as it were. It should stop soon enough, and even if not, I think it looks convincing enough.”

“Convincing enough for what?” Ganlin asked.

“For you to say you tamed it.” Lyzdrik said, Elizarthe raising her hand higher to Ganlin as they spoke. The alcht jumping from her hand to on top of Ganlin’s left shoulder.

The sudden movement startled Ganlin, making him jump. The alcht held onto his shoulder.

“You made this to come with me?” Ganlin asked. “What’s it supposed to do?”

“It serves two purposes,” Lyzdrik replied. “The first is that it will allow us to sense where you are, and if you are in any grave danger, the second, and more important one to you I’d say, is that it will serve as a form of protection for you. It will attack any who tries to harm you or it. It may be small, but I think you’ll find it quite ferocious. Elizarthe and I made sure of it.” They smiled then placed one of their palms against Ganlin’s face.

“Now, just one more thing to help you on your way. Close your eyes, and think of the skal that you mean to go to. Picture it as best you can, every detail you are able to remember will help. It’s been quite some time since I’ve used any sort of divination magic, but this should work.”

Lyzdrik began crushing the plants they had in their other hand as they closed their eyes in concentration.

Ganlin did what was asked of him and closed his eyes as well, picturing the skal as best as he could remember in his mind.

He thought of the day he arrived, how it looked as he approached it as the sun set. He thought of the strange structures made of wood, how it felt to run his hands over it, how his hand stung as he hurt himself on the wall. He thought of the area surrounding it, what the forest looked like as he crept through it to find Ragnov. He thought of the people of the skal, of which he knew very little about. He pictured them standing on the edge of their skal, staring at his approaching figure. He thought of the girl Madelna, who had started him on his current journey, the one he swore his oath to, the reason he was going back there. He thought of how the ceiling looked as he slept on the floor. The way the light played across the few buildings as the sun rose in the early morning.

“Very good, Ganlin.” Lyzdrik said. “You can open your eyes now.”

Ganlin did so as Lyzdrik opened their hand and threw the crushed up plants high above them. Although the air was still, a wind came, blowing the bits of plant through the air, until they scattered and fell along the ground in a line.

“There you go,” they said as the last piece fell to the ground. “Just head in that direction, and you’ll reach your destination eventually.”

Ganlin slowly nodded, still unnerved by the strangeness of the magic, but willing to put up with it for the time being. He was involved with them, whether he wanted to be or not. He began walking.

“Ank’haran. One moment.”

Ganlin turned as the mostly silent Rollan stood up and approached him, a blade in their hand. “The Ank’harans don’t use swords, right?” He asked.

“They’re called swords?” Ganlin asked. Rollan gave a small grunt that could have carried the hint of a laugh.

“I know very little of Ank’har, but I’ve heard you use axes as weapons instead.” Said Rollan, using a word Ganlin had never heard before. Did he mean spirxes? “We don’t have an axe with us, but I did bring this spare sword. Take it.”

Rollan held it between his hands and stretched his arms out towards Ganlin. Ganlin reached forward with his right hand, grabbing the ‘sword’ at the strangely short handle.

“I know it’s not an axe,” Rollan said, “but the blade is short, and the principle is the same; just cut into them.”

Ganlin turned the sword over and studied the blade; it was of excellent craftsmanship, and it was kept in good condition. Clearly, Rollan was a man who took care of his weapons. Ganlin slid the weapon into the sheath that Rollan provided him, letting the larger man help him fit it against his hip. The object felt strange by his side, heavier than his spirxe.

“Thank you all for your help.” Ganlin said, inclining his head to each of the three of them. “I appreciate it more than I could ever say. I will go to Ludilakir, one day, and I hope that I may get the chance to see you all again.”

Lyzdrik nodded back.

“You as well. I wish you the best on your mission.”

“Thank you.” Ganlin replied, turning away from the group and walking through the boscage and out of the clearing, following the trail of petals that were scattered by the wind.

-End of chapter 11-

<-Previous Chapter

Each night was the same; he would close his eyes and fall asleep, and then he would find himself in the burning skal. Then he would fight Ragnov for as long as he could, mixing up his tactics and learning how to use the environment against him. Sometimes the wizard would bring him to their strange room, other times they would exist as a voice on the wind, and sometimes they wouldn’t be there at all. Ganlin didn’t know if that was due to magic pulling them away, or if they were simply choosing to not reveal themselves to Ganlin on some nights.

With each passing day, Ganlin became just a little bit stronger. It was hardly noticeable, but he could feel the hints of progress. Everyday he felt a little bit better, a little stronger, lighter on his feet.

As time went on, Ganlin was feeling the passing of his days in Silvirtharn. His hair had grown by about an inch, and his face was covered by a shallow beard.

There were also more altercations with other prisoners, however. Ganlin was becoming better at mining, maybe the best in the whole lot, and as such, the guards were not as rough with him as they were with the others. This led to many of the other prisoners hating Ganlin, and Ganlin felt their ire.

It was tiny things, at first. A rough shove one morning and being tripped another evening. Thing’s quickly became worse though, when one morning the prisoners were walking down into the quarry.

While walking, Ganlin was prepared for one of the prisoners around him to try tripping him. It had become a common practice that someone would try to, even if they rarely succeeded.

What Ganlin wasn’t expecting was one of the people next to him tripping instead.

The prisoner to his right suddenly fell, knocking into the person ahead of them, and like when they first tripped Ganlin, it resulted in all the prisoners getting pulled this way and that by their fellows. It was even worse than the first time, though, as Ganlin saw a prisoner slip out of their chains and go tumbling off the edge of the ramp into the quarry. The prisoner tumbled through the air, screaming, before they landed onto the solid ground and lay motionless.

The guards went about the crowd, yelling at prisoners to get back up on their feet, roughly pulling up the ones that didn’t follow their orders fast enough. Ganlin saw some more guards come down from the main building of the prison and move down into the quarry to deal with the prisoner who had fallen, their body motionless on the hard rocks.

“Why’d you trip me you bastard!” Ganlin was almost knocked over by the prisoner to his right roughly shoving him.

“What are you talking about?” Ganlin was bewildered.

“You tripped me, you bastard! Good job tripping the whole line!” The prisoner spat at Ganlin’s face as the prisoner behind that one spoke up as well.

“Yeah, I saw it! You stuck your foot out and tripped him!” They turned to all the prisoners around him, pointing a stubby finger towards Ganlin.

The pieces clicked in Ganlin’s mind, and he realized what was happening. Those among the prisoners that disliked him were trying to ruin any reputation he may have, making him drop out of favour with the guards.

“That’s not true!” Ganlin tried protesting, but he could tell it was already too late. The word was spreading fast, and more prisoners were shouting at Ganlin. Soon enough, guards worked their way through the throng to where Ganlin was.

“What’s going on here?” one of them asked.

“This lout tripped me! He’s the reason we all fell!” The prisoner wailed as they gestured at Ganlin.

The guard took one look at him, memorizing Ganlin’s face.

“Very well, he’ll be dealt with after your meal tonight.” They said, turning around and walking off, and the group was shepherded down into the quarry.

As they moved further down, Ganlin turned to the one who tripped over, finally having the opportunity to ask the question that was lingering in his mind.

“Why do you care so much? Why seek to hurt me? Is there a point to any of this?”

The other prisoner looked at Ganlin and laughed dryly.

“It’s simple, doe-brain. Silvirtharn is a place of pain, and you don’t deserve it any less than the rest of us. If the guards won’t give it to you, then we will gladly do their job for them.” They flashed Ganlin a savage smile then turned away from him, staying silent the rest of the way down.

Soon enough Ganlin was in the quarry and mining along with the other prisoners. Ganlin was looking over his shoulder whenever he could, on the lookout for any signs of a plot. They were becoming bolder, more eager for blood.

Ganlin tried to stay focused on the mining, eagerly attempting to fill his thoughts with the idea of escape instead of how anyone might try to hurt him. Although the idea of escape was becoming a painful one as well.

The wizard was starting to get on Ganlin’s nerves. They kept speaking on and on about freeing him, yet nothing had changed. The most information they would give him was that they were doing what they could.

It infuriated Ganlin to no end. The terrible situation of being stuck, unable to do anything or go anywhere. Each night the dream compounded the worry he had in his heart for the people of the skal that he had failed to protect. What had become of them? They said that they were running out of food supplies before Ganlin had even agreed to fight the bandits. How much worse would things be for them now that they had to support an entire group of soldiers? Ganlin had made an oath to protect the small skal, and he had failed it the very day after he had sworn it. He wanted nothing more than to be able to go back and help them, make things right, restore his honour.

Soon enough, the day was done, and the group was brought back up and brought in to eat. Ganlin noticed that there was a visible empty space on the benches between him and any other prisoners. There was also a group of guards standing at the doors, staring at him.

Ganlin guessed the group were involved with whatever his punishment for ‘tripping’ the other prisoner would be. He thought that they were waiting for him to finish eating his meal, so he did his best to savour each spoonful.

When there was nothing left to eat, he stood up. The guards at the door walked over to him, attaching a chain to his manacles to use as a lead.

“Come with us, prisoner.”

They led him out into the courtyard, where a tall wooden pole had been erected in the centre.

Someone that Ganlin had only ever seen once before stood next to the pole, holding a long whip. The captain of the guard, who was in command of every single guard inside Silvirtharn, second in authority only to the Warden.

The guards dragged Ganlin forward, bringing him to the pole so that he was facing it. His manacles were secured to a small latch close to the top of the pole, leaving Ganlin’s arms outstretched above him. From behind him, the captain spoke.

“While I wasn’t there to see it, I heard reports of your blunder prisoner. Your actions wasted time that could have been well spent working, and worse yet, resulted in the permanent injury of another prisoner, costing this facility valuable manpower. Your punishment for these actions shall be fifteen lashes.”

The courtyard was silent except for the sound of the captain slowly unraveling the long whip. The slowness of it all made the muscles of Ganlin’s back tense up with the simple expectation of pain.

A violent crack rent the air, and Ganlin cried out before he even processed what had happened.

“One.” Ganlin barely heard the captain’s voice, and couldn’t focus on what was said anyway.

Again the sound of the whip, almost as if the very world itself was split apart. The pain streaked across his back almost immediately after. Ganlin thought his back was already bruised.

“Two.”

Ganlin didn’t have time to prepare himself as a third strike hit his back. His body tensed and spasmed against the pain, and his legs gave out beneath him. His manacles secured in place above him kept him upright as he fell, making his wrists hurt from the added weight.

“Three.”

The fourth hit him as he was trying to stand up, sending his legs flailing again.

“Four.”

The captain continued on, giving Ganlin the rest of the whippings that they thought he deserved. The whip would strike Ganlin and he would writhe in pain. The captain would announce the number of that strike, giving Ganlin only a couple of precious seconds for him to try and steel himself before the next strike came.

After the fifteenth lash was counted, guards took a rag and roughly washed the immediate bleeding from the marks on Ganlin’s back. Ganlin opened his eyes as the guards unhooked him and started dragging him away from the courtyard and back into the prison. The world was blurry at first, and Ganlin realized that at some point he had started crying. His back stung with vicious pain every time he went through the simple act of merely breathing.

After what felt like forever, a door creaked open, and Ganlin was thrown stumbling into his cell.

“Best be more careful, prisoner. Else we’ll just have to do it to you again.” One of the guards sneered before slamming the door shut.

Ganlin just stood, leaning forward against the wall of his cell for what felt like a very long time. Every so often twitching as the pain in his back spontaneously flared in intensity. Gritting his teeth to stop himself from groaning, Ganlin bent down and laid with his chest flat across the surface of his bedroll.

Ganlin turned his head so he could breathe and stared at the wall across from him.

I can’t do this.

The thought ruled over his mind as he stared at the wall. He tried his best to think of anything else, but he always found his way coming back to that one dominating, malicious thought.

What a fool he was, to think he could make it on his own, to act as if he was some great hero out of legend. Ganlin didn’t feel like a hero, couldn’t. When he had left his homeland, his heart was full of passion and determination, determination to become the best he could be, maybe earn some coin along the way.

Now he was nothing more than a man in chains, forced through the same meaningless labour every single day. Punished greatly for any perceived slight. Ganlin’s body became numb as his mind was filled with the totality of how greatly he had failed himself and those he had made an oath to protect.

Eventually, Ganlin’s exhaustion overtook him, and sleep claimed him.

Ganlin was home.

He opened his eyes and saw the midday sun, filtered through the cloth of the tent he was in. Despite the heat, the inside of the tent felt mostly cool.

Ganlin yawned as he stretched, his back giving a satisfying crack as he raised his arms above his head. He felt full of energy as he stood up out of his bed and looked around the tent, covering his mouth as another yawn came over him. Ganlin paused.

Everyone was gone. The tent was empty. Ganlin realized that he couldn’t hear any sounds from outside either.

He strode forward and lifted the flap of the tent, walking outside, not changing out of his bedclothes.

The sand felt hot beneath his feet, but Ganlin hardly noticed as he stepped outside and took a look at the tents put up all around him. No sound came from any of them, and the paths between them were devoid of anyone else.

Ganlin walked around the camp, opening every tent he passed to look inside. There was no one. The whole camp was devoid of life. The sounds of life were absent, no one yelling out practice forms for the warriors in training, no huffing of the hardocks as they slept in their pens, no cheering of children as hunters returned with fresh game. There was nothing but silence.

Ganlin found himself at the edge of the campsite, staring out towards the rolling dunes. The feeling of comfort that had filled him was gone, replaced with an anxious dread. Where had everyone gone off to? Why was he alone?

Dejected, he turned around. Coming face to face with a crowd of people.

They were all silent, each staring at him with tear-stained eyes. At the front of the crowd stood all of the young children, looking at him with eyes that did not understand the situation. Ganlin couldn’t blame them, he barely understood the situation himself. Alongside the children stood many of the elders, many giving approving yet regretful looks. Ganlin saw others in the crowd; many of the other warriors he had trained alongside and grown close with, like Usiljah and Mosherof; even the neon had abandoned their tasks to bear witness to what was coming. Behind them all, in the very back of the crowd, Ganlin could see his father watching. The tall man had tears running down his slender face, making Ganlin’s heart shatter at the sight. To spend so much water out of sorrow was a special thing, and Ganlin felt sorrow for being the cause of so many tears.

Then Ganlin heard a sound from the sands, out towards the dunes. Ganlin turned to see the group that was approaching. Their strange tall banners bore strange colours that Ganlin had never seen before, and they rode their hardocks three in a row.

Ganlin became nervous. His mind reeled as everything clicked into place. His conscious mind collided with his unconscious mind and he realized he was dreaming. Dreaming of the past, dreaming of a memory.

Ganlin turned around and ran towards the crowd, not wanting to confront history. His limbs moved slowly, and it felt like his chest was tightening around his hard, making him panic even more. His breathing became heavier with every step. He looked behind him and saw that in mere seconds the procession group was already upon him. Their leader, obscured by shade despite the midday sun, reached down towards Ganlin with strangely clothed hands. Ganlin’s mind moved impossibly faster than his body, panicking as his body refused to move as fast as he wanted to.

The mounted rider’s hand was just about to grab Ganlin by the arm when the sands shifted, spiraling as they began sinking. Ganlin was pulled down by the moving grains and was drawn down into darkness. The darkness lasted a lifetime, strange shapes moved all around Ganlin as he fell. He felt like he was falling at least, even if it seemed as if nothing was moving at all.

The shapes became clouds, and the clouds began flashing with strange lights as Ganlin felt wind whipping around him. He didn’t feel the pain of it but he slammed into hard dirt. Then he was there, back in the familiar dream of the burning skal. As Ragnov appeared, Ganlin felt completely disinterested.

“Wizard,” he said to the wind, knowing they were most likely watching in some form. “If you’re there, take me from here. I cannot fight today.”

Ragnov spotted Ganlin, yawping as he rushed towards him, but quickly Ganlin was swept away into the halls of the Wizard’s domain.

Ganlin yanked the door open and stepped inside the wizard’s room. They opened their mouth to speak, but Ganlin cut them off.

“When? When are you going to make good on your word and free me?”

The wizard met Ganlin’s angered gaze.

“I do not know. I’m doing all I can.”

Ganlin’s blood boiled, and his face grew hot with anger.

“You’re a wizard, and the best you can do is nothing? Do better, damn you. It’s been weeks since you said you would help me and yet nothing has happened. Nothing. Day by day, my life gets worse. I feel my spirit dying, and all you have to say is that you’re doing all you can?”

For a split second, the wizard’s unflappable face changed, eyebrows drawn together as they glared at Ganlin. They took a deep breath before speaking.

“I can see you are frustrated but this is difficult work, you-”

“Difficult?” Ganlin interrupted. “Difficult to leave your temple and release a single prisoner? You want me to go through the effort of finding you and being observed by you, judged by you, and yet you can’t even make good on your own word.”

The Wizard stood up, and got close to Ganlin, face to face.

“You have no appreciation for the difficulties of magic, you imbecile. I’ve been looking for you, but it is difficult, and takes time. Messengers rarely come to Ludilakir, and it takes time for them to take messages to where they need to go! I sent a message to the keep of Silvirtharn, and all I’ve gotten is a reply saying there is no Ank’haran in the dungeons. I’m trying, and I’ve used my powers to help you train here, and all you do to thank me is come here and scream at me? Insolent whelp. Be gone. See how well you do without my help.”

The wizard made a strange hand gesture and Ganlin felt himself being launched backwards through the room, deep into the stone. The darkness surrounded him, and Ganlin was thrown into dark and terrible dreams.

-End of chapter 7-

<-Previous Chapter

One morning, one where Ganlin woke up earlier than he did most days, he stayed on the bedroll, looking up at the ceiling as he pondered the dream that he had been having every night.

Growing up, Ganlin never paid mind to his dreams. Some of the more spiritual Ank’harans would talk about how important they could be, a signal of something important to come, but they had never been interesting to Ganlin. He rarely ever remembered his dreams, and as such he never analyzed them.

Even Ganlin could tell this dream was different, though. He had never had the same dream more than once before, and none of his dreams had ever felt so real. There was something about it that was different, and Ganlin was unsettled by the fact that he couldn’t figure it out.

Soon enough a guard came to his door, and he was led out into the courtyard and down into the quarry. His back hurt, more than it usually did, and it took most of Ganlin’s energy to even stay standing.

Ganlin felt broken as he took up a pick and began picking away at the stone, trying his best to work through the pain. When he left Ank'har, he knew that he wasn't the strongest warrior to ever be, but he had still thought himself competent with a weapon, a force to be reckoned with. Maybe he was, but did it matter if he was good when it seemed like everyone else was great? He had managed to put down Ragnov, but he probably still would have died, had it not been for Lady Sivna arriving. Ganlin felt weak, weaker than he ever had. He couldn't stop thinking of himself as an idiot, for going to the North. He had thrown his life away, disgracing himself by not being able to follow his word, and now trapped in a prison, too weak to even think of escaping.

His weakness made him angry, and the fact that he was in no position to do anything about it made him angrier. The shame of being unable to help that skal made him angry, the pain in his back made him angry, the monotony of the work made him angry. All of it made him angry. Ganlin had been angry in his life before, he was human, after all, but this was something different, something primal. The rage of a man who was chained, a man who had not only failed himself, but had lost his freedom in doing so.

The anger drove him to swing his pick harder and faster. The pain that exploded across his back from the force of his swings only made him swing even harder. The rock flew out at frightening speed as he took his pick to it, bending the metal head. He swung until he could swing no more, and he could no longer draw breath faster than he was using it. Slowing down as exhaustion washed over him, he raised his pick one more time, then stopped.

There was something different about the rock here, something was stuck within the stone. It was speckled throughout the rock, glittering a beautiful dark blue as the sunlight shined upon it. Ganlin reached out with curious fingers, feeling the strange texture of it. He could almost see through it, but there was a strange cloudiness to it, so he could only see hints of what was on the other side.

Ganlin had realized that the quarry had grown quieter. There were still the sounds of picks hitting the stone, but it was quieter. Tearing his eyes from the beautiful stones, he saw it was because more than a few of the other prisoners working in the quarry had stopped to stare at him, only those farther away from him had kept working. Most of the guards were watching him as well, some having a nervous hand on their sheathed weapons. Farther away, the Foreman was staring at him, and though too far away to see his face clearly, Ganlin thought the man looked afraid.

Ganlin pointed at the strange rocks with his pickaxe. The head of which, Ganlin realized, had become completely blunt.

"I found something." He said.

The guard closest to Ganlin moved over to where Ganlin was standing and took a closer look at the objects that were set into the rock. Seeing it, they gasped, and waved the foreman over to take a look. The stocky figure ran over, escorted by two more guards. When he saw it, the foreman gasped as well, and Ganlin saw the man's lips pull upward in a hungry looking grin.

"Ohoho," He intoned, leaning forward and running one of his figures over the surface of the strange rock.

"Great job prisoner, I believe the Warden will be more than happy to find out about this. Yes, excellent find indeed." The foreman turned to the surrounding guards. "One of you, go to the kitchens and make sure the cooks know that this one is to get an extra plate at mealtime, as a reward for his discovery, and the hard work to get it." He added, casting an eye at the blunted pick. "And you there," pointing at one of the other guards. "Go and find the Warden, and inform him that one of the prisoners has discovered a deposit of Vievstone."

At his words, some of the guards gasped, mouths falling agape and eyes going wide. Then they all dispersed, running off to do as the foreman said. The foreman turned back to Ganlin.

"Wonderful find, truly a wonderful find. Go, grab another pick, then come back here and mine out around the Vievstones. Let us see just how great a treasure you have found for us."

Ganlin, confused by all the uproar, walked towards the farther side of the quarry, where a barrel of spare picks were found. Behind him, he could hear the foreman getting one of the other prisoners to come over as well.

Vievstone. The word sounded somewhat familiar to Ganlin, and it took him some time to place why. He had heard the word before in some of the stories that the elders of the clans told, vievstone would sometimes be mentioned in the stories of great wizards. However that was all Ganlin could remember, as he hadn't paid much attention to those stories. He had never been interested in the stories of wizards, their abilities had not awed him, but simply frightened him. No one should be able to do such strange and powerful things, Ganlin thought.

He regretted having not listened as much to those stories now, as he found himself wishing he knew what the importance of the strange stones were.

Coming back, he aided in the mining out of the surrounding area using his new pickaxe. As they were working, the Warden quickly came, his retinue of guards struggling to keep up with him.

"Let me see!" He said as he arrived, excitedly shoving one of the other prisoners aside so that he could look at it.

In the five minutes it took for the Warden to arrive, Ganlin and the others had exposed more of the strange looking stones. Ganlid heard the Warden take a sharp breath as he looked at it all, a smile coming to his lips. The Warden stood up and took a couple steps back.

"Foreman, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Keep watching the other prisoners, I shall watch this personally. Continue, prisoners." He continued on, speaking to Ganlin and the others now. "Expose the rest of this deposit."

With a quick "Yes Warden", the foreman returned to his position, watching over the other prisoners as they toiled, and Ganlin and the other two prisoners kept mining, this time under the watchful eye of the Warden.

Another five minutes passed, then another ten. Then twenty. As the sun moved through the sky, more and more of the Vievstone was uncovered. Ganlin could see the Warden becoming more and more flustered as the mining kept going, revealing even more of the blue stones. Soon, other prisoners were halting in their work to shoot awed looks at the deposit, whispers spreading among the crowds. The Warden got the guards to pull in more miners, and finally, after a full hour of work, the full vein was uncovered.

All said and done, it stretched on for a length that was about five times Ganlin's height laying down, it went about two full body lengths deep into the stone, and even went a little bit below the ground. There must have been close to a hundred of the beautiful blue stones, all various sizes, shining gloriously in the light of the sun.

"This is a very good find." The Warden rumbled in his low and gentle voice, excitement leaking through the tone of his words. The Warden turned to the foreman. "Which one of these prisoners is responsible for this most bountiful find?"

"That one, Warden sir," the foreman responded, pointing at Ganlin, who was breathing heavily as he tried his best to stand straight, sweat running down his body. "The foreigner, from the West."

The Warden looked Ganlin straight in the eyes, and nodded, almost as if he had expected that to be the case.

"Very well. Thank you, foreman. Get the others to extract the vievstones from the rock. I'll send out some messengers to those who will be very interested by what we've dug up here today. You, Westerner," The Warden said to Ganlin, as the foreman got the other prisoners to continue the work. "Come with me, I'd like a word with you."

Ganlin followed as the Warden led him away from the crowd of miners and towards the centre of the quarry, where a more private conversation could be held. The Warden was first to speak.

"I have realized I don't know your name Ank'haran, and I would like to speak to as more than a prisoner or a foreigner for the time being."

Ganlin felt awkward at the attention of the giant man, and something about the attention he'd been getting since finding the stones was making him nervous. Both in the case of the Warden and foreman's excitement, and in the looks some of the other prisoners were casting towards him. Not wanting to somehow anger the man by not answering quickly enough, Ganlin spoke.

"I am Ganlin, sir. Ganlin Hardell."

"Ganlin, eh?" His name sounded odd when spoken by the Nothern accent of the Warden. "Very well. I would like to both congratulate, and thank you for your find today, Ganlin Hardell. You have done very, very well today."

The Warden stopped talking at that, staring at Ganlin. Realizing he was waiting for a response, Ganlin bowed his head.

“Thank you, Warden.”

The Warden inclined his head, and continued talking.

“Now, it may be hard to believe, but I am not a bad person. I recognize the hard work of those who are kept under my care here, and I believe in rewarding that hard work. Since you have found something truly special, I shall give you a reward that is truly special as well. After your meal tonight, you shall not have to do any work. Instead, you shall be given the chance to sit outside, simply enjoying the fresh air without exerting any labour. Then, a guard shall take you to a room with a warm bed that shall be yours for the night. I also notice the wounds that mark your body, I shall have a medic look at it, see if there can be anything done about that.”

Ganlin stared at the man in front of him, awestruck. His second day, and he had been blessed with something that sounded so nice. He thanked the divines for such good fortune.

“Thank you Warden. I greatly appreciate it, and you are very kind.”

“Yes, I know. Now get back to work, it’s not mealtime for you yet.” And with that, the Warden walked off, his guards following him back up to Silvirtharn proper.

Ganlin walked back to the vievstone and began chipping away at it again, helping the other miners break the stone around so they could be transported as smaller chunks to be extracted more precisely. An odd sense of pride swelled within him. A string of thoughts began weaving themselves together in Ganlin’s head. Perhaps this was a sign from the divines, telling him to not give up hope. If he continued working hard in the quarry, perhaps he could truly earn the favour of Warden Kilvarg and find a way to convince him to let Ganlin go. Was it possible to earn freedom? Ganlin felt himself becoming hopeful, maybe this was a second chance, a way for him to get out of Silvirtharn and to make things right with his honour.

“Warden gave you some reward, did he?” said an accented voice.

Ganlin hadn’t noticed the prisoner come up beside him, striking the rock next to Ganlin. They were a little bit taller than him, and their matted hair went down to their shoulders, showing that they had been at Silvirtharn for some time.

“Watch your back then. It’s a rare day when the others treat somebody who gets that treatment fondly. That’s just how it works, falling on the Warden’s good side means you’re on everyone else’s bad. A lot of the people here already weren’t fans of you, being a Westerner and all, so watch your back, because today definitely didn’t help your standing.”

Ganlin thought on the prisoner’s words for a moment before he responded.

“So, what? There’s not much they can do about it, is there?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe someone trips while swinging a pickaxe next to you, and instead of hitting rock it hits skin, accidents happen after all, even if it’s rare. Maybe someone hears you whispering about escape, and let’s the guards take care of it. Or maybe they just outright attack you, one can never know for sure.”

“Would they really attack me? What would be the point in that? They’d only get in trouble for such a thing.”

The other prisoner laughed, a humorless sound. “They would, yeah. In the end though, would it even matter? We’re all in here until we die anyway, they can’t really make it any worse.” With that, the prisoner went off to a different section of the rock.

Ganlin thought about the prisoner’s words as he continued mining. Looking around, he noticed that some of the others would occasionally look at him with glaring eyes. Perhaps the Warden’s good favour wasn’t as much a blessing as it first appeared to be. Ganlin cursed himself for being so stupid as to not have already considered the inherent danger of his current position. Each prisoner at Silvirtharn was imprisoned for a reason, that reason being they were deemed dangerous, and not in a way that they could be used as soldiers. Ganlin felt a fool for not noticing the danger sooner. He thought he should thank the prisoner who warned him, but decided against it. If some of the other prisoners truly did hold a grudge against Ganlin, then talking further with the one who warned him might earn them some trouble, as well, and Ganlin didn’t want to repay their kindness by getting them hurt or possibly even killed.

As the day stretched on, Ganlin became more and more nervous, he found himself casting looks over his shoulder without thinking about it, and the muscles in his legs were constantly tensed, ready to launch him out of harm’s way. All of Ganlin’s combat training was kicking in as he became more on edge.

When the foreman blew his whistle, and told the prisoners to head back up, Ganlin was constantly on a swivel. During mealtime, there was a space on either side of Ganlin as they all ate, others whispering, and some of the larger and more muscular prisoners casting dark looks his way.

Ganlin was able to sit at the table and tuck into a second serving of dinner as all the other prisoners were taken off to do their nighttime tasks.

Then, after he was done eating, guards escorted him outside, and he was able to enjoy the view of the stars in the night sky, which allowed him to calm himself somewhat. After spending some time outside, the guards then led Ganlin into Silvirtharn, going down many different hallways before leading him into a room with an older woman, grey hair tied in a knot behind her head. The woman was the doctor the warden had mentioned, and she tended to Ganlin’s wounds. She used thread to stitch the worst of his cuts, and rubbed some strange cold powder on his back, easing the pain immensely.

“It’s not a perfect fix,” she said, “but we can’t have you spending a week doing nothing, so this is the best I can do.”

Ganlin was so grateful for the being gone that he didn’t mind that it would only be absent for a while. He thanked the doctor, and the guards led him to his room for the night. It was about twice as big as his cell in every dimension, and there was a large, soft bed. Ganlin fell into it, and immediately drifted off to sleep.

-End of Chapter 5-

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