The Finding of the Heirs

This intro begins the tale of Eranor and Arkitol as they are blessed with the powers of the Veldarel. This blessing, however, comes with a burden that they will soon come to know very well.

Chapter 1: The Finding of the Heirs

      A very long time ago, in a land that is now long lost to all of mankind, there lived a family. This family was known as Valkarus (the meaning of which is now understood by very few). Their home was built very sturdily out of strong, well cut logs and sat at the edge of a great and beautiful forest, on top of a hill, overlooking the wide plains of Arratul which stretched far and long into the vast, grass filled distance.  If the crystal azure sky was swept clear of the lingering clouds on a clear and bright summer day, one could look out from that hill that stood so near the forest and catch a glimpse of a silver blue thread of shimmering light that was said to be the vast sea.  None of the members of this seemingly unimportant family had ever seen the sea, as they were not travelers. However they somehow knew, whether by a strong guess, or by an unknown knowledge planted deep within them, telling them many things that they did not know for themselves.  It was not important to them, yet they did not doubt its existence. 

     I say that they were a family, but where this tale of adventure and danger begins is at a sad moment in the lives of the ones that still lived there.  The father of this ill-fated family was a great woodworker. He could make the wood of the trees that he fell change to whatever shape of toy, furniture, or other useful item that he wanted to.  From these great trees that stood only a few feet east of their house and made up the vast and majestic forest of Artencorl, or Runewood in the Recognized language, he made great toys and tools full of the most expert craftsmanship that had ever been seen in those parts of the world. 

     In better and kinder times, people of all races and reputations, from farmers to kings, and from merchants to guardians, would come to this unassuming house at the edge of the forest by way of the white Runeroad to buy the great works that Hercan Valkarus would create out of the trees.  However, these later and unhappier years had caused these noble races to turn their attention to more dangerous and pressing issues than keeping Hercan in business. 

     So it came to pass in these less friendly years that the Runeroad was overgrown with many brambles and thickets. The loss of this safe and hospitable road would cause even the most hardy and cunning of woodsmen to lose their way in the Runewood.  It was for this reason that the once highly revered name of Valkarus passed out of the memory of the fair races that used to see him and was lost rather quickly into the long cruel march of time that sweeps up so many formerly noble things.  These lonely years were hard on the poor woodsman and his family, and he began to grow very impatient and even angry. His understanding and knowledge of the outside world and its dangerous workings was limited by the peaceful sheltered life that he lived. 

     He became upset that no one would come to buy his marvelous handiwork, and that no one seemed to care for his cabinets and dressers anymore.  Little did he know that these noble people stood to protect him and his family from great harm, even though they had forgotten about him rather quickly.  In his clueless confusion and misguided anger towards these races, he set out to find the fame that he had won with his woodworking skills. 

     However, that white path was full of danger and death, and from the Runewood, Hercan Valkarus never returned to the family that he held so very dear in his heart.  This was a dreadful and unfortunate blow to his now heartbroken family, and his loving wife passed away only one year later in her grief and misery.  There were now left only two to preserve the lost family name of Valkarus, only two that remained to sustain it.  For it was that Hercan had fathered two sons, one older, and one younger. 

     The elder brother was a strong, yet lean young man. He had straight red-brown hair that was swept out of his strong brown eyes to his right side and that always laid a little messy, for it was very unruly, especially in the morning.  He was quick to speak, and a little too forward in his actions and emotions, but he was still a very kindly young person, with a very strong sense of bravery and almost nobility. In the older and kinder days when the people of the other nations would come on the Runeroad to buy his fathers great workmanship, he was called Arkitol, or Daybreak. For they saw that he was as bright and energetic as the morning sun, which leaps from the horizon, chasing night away in its great course through the sky, proud and strong. 

     The younger son of Hercan Valkarus was lighter skinned than his older brother, but he was no less fair in the eyes of all who saw him. He was built much like Arkitol; having a stature that stood only a little shorter than the older son, consisting of lean yet strong limbs that had seen good work. His hair laid neater than his brothers, even if similar in style. This blended well with his deep and dark eyes. Those silver-blue eyes caught within them the shining light of night and day which danced about in a noble and dreaming gaze, the gaze of a son of nobility.  It was said by many who saw him in those more hospitable years, that his eyes were as deep and dark as the starry midnight sky that hung over the plains of Arratul.  For these reasons he was called Eranor, or Starsong, for he had a clear, strong and beautiful voice.  Eranor was quieter and preferred more time alone than his brother. Sometimes his decisions could be illogical, but he always did what felt right, and what he knew was good.

Both of the Valkarus brothers appeared to be slightly younger than a full-grown age, however, the family of Valkarus was long lived so it was hard to tell.

     It was in the very year after the tragedies had befallen these fateful sons that the incredible happened. Incredible events are not uncommon in such stories, but to have the incredible repeated is truly astounding and can cause many amazing things to happen in these adventures.  For it was that in this year, both Arkitol Daybreak and Eranor Starsong received the incredible gifts of the Veldarel.

     It was a fine summer afternoon, and the melody of the birds drifted down from the tall trees of the Runewood so beautifully that you would never want to leave their melodies.  Arkitol, however, did not have singing birds or the clear blue sky in his thoughts at the moment; his thought was consumed entirely by dinner. He had just spotted a fine white tailed deer running through the trees, and it was his job to designate it as the final meal of the day. For him, the hunt was on. Through the winding trees he went, so enthralled by the stealthy chase that he quite forgot where he was in the small portion of the Runewood that they knew. He flew through the dense growth of the forest, chasing his prey. Finally, when his strength was about to fail him because of the long chase, the deer became caught in a thick bramble bush.  Arkitol slowly raised his fine wooden bow, notched an arrow to the string, pulled it back…and stopped. This was truly unusual for him.  He would normally never rest until the hunt was complete; but something caught his gaze.

     He looked through the trees that stood a little to his right, and caught a gleam of something beautiful. “It is only the afternoon sun on a clearing of green grass,” he thought, but something in his being burned within him, telling him that he was wrong. This was the gleam of a sun with ten thousand beautiful rays. It was brighter, stronger, and greater than he had ever seen before. Drawn by its irrepressible gaze, Arkitol slowly walked into the clearing.  It was perfectly circular, and the crown of a small hill that he had unknowingly scaled in his hunt.  Far and bright was the golden sun, and it demanded his gaze.  His eyes trailed themselves to the clear blue and brightened heavens and as they did, he caught the eternal glare of the tireless sun. It shone in an energetic light, chasing the dark of night and fear away, soaring through the clouds in its proud and glorious splendor.  As his eyes held its gaze, there seemed to be a small speck of light, piercing the crystal sky right next to the golden sun.  This was not a mere trick of the sun upon a dazzled eye; it grew larger and larger, raising the curiosity of the young man as he beheld it. Soon, terror struck the poor boy as he realized that it was not growing in size but racing down from the sky at the speed of falcons. Indeed it hurtled towards the ground in all of its blazing firelight, fury untamed and proud unknown splendor it held as it fell from on high towards the center of the clearing. In the last, fateful second, the young hunter wrenched his gaze from the fiery object, and leaped out of the way of this new light, narrowly escaping the wrath and danger of the coming fire. A thunderous cloud of smoke billowed forth from the point of impact as it spread its foggy haze through the sun-soaked clearing in the woods. In the flash of a second, the young hunter was engulfed in a gray and orange cloud. Then, without warning, and with an unseen fury, the smoke rushed back to the fiery object where it came from, stealing the young mans breath away with the sound of constricted wind that forces itself into the smallest of openings.

      Arkitol stood, transfixed in fear and wonder at this most unusual of circumstances. As was normal in these strange occurrences, Arkitol felt the sudden and almost irrepressible instinct to run. Almost. For it happened that Arkitol was soon gripped by an unknown sense of wonder and awe. This was against the nature of Arkitol, as he cared little for extraordinary things. He was focused on the ordinary, and if the incredible happened, he was almost certain to question, doubt, or outright disbelieve what even his senses might show him.  This was different; it was as if another will was drawing him towards the fire, for he was coming nearer and nearer. His mind raced with a thousand new questions; his heart with a thousand new feelings. He peered over the edge of the small crater that the object had made and was puzzled by what he saw. “What madness has befallen me?” he thought “I have wasted my time, and my dinner, to see a simple sky-stone, one of those useless rocks that fall from the clouds” There was some instinct, however, that told him this was no mere meteor (as we might call it). Arkitol’s thoughts were irrepressibly fixed on this strange, fiery object. This stone was about the size of his palm, and clear as cloudless noon. Yet it was filled inside with a red, blazing fire. Somehow, it seemed to be on fire itself, yet a fire that has been tamed and tempered. The stone itself was shaped beautifully, as if cut by a master smith for the adorning of a crown or necklace. Arkitol was entranced in such a way by its bright beauty, that all fear and doubt seemed to flee from his mind as he gazed upon this crystal. Indeed all thoughts flew from his mind. He was engulfed by one desire, to feel the touch of this object, to see it in another light, the light of his own possession of it. His hand slowly reached for it, his thoughts fixed only upon it, encouraged by it. Warning and fear were lost to his young mind, trembling fled from his body, and doubt was engulfed by thought of beauty and the awe of the crystals fire.

      With an insignificant move, a tiny touch from the hand of the hunter, the stone flared up again in furious wrath. The fire leaped from the blazing stone, seeming to possess the lust to destroy in vengeance, he who had dared brush against it. The surrounding trees groaned with agony as a great breath of wind issued forth from the wrathful stone.

      “Leave me!” exclaimed Arkitol when he had finally found his voice, realizing his folly in grasping the stone. He loosened his grasp, in order that he might drop it and flee for his life, but the more he slackened his grip, the harder he found he was holding on. Flames wrapped around his hand, forcing him to hold. Indeed, the flames seemed to have great power of their own. They spiraled around his trembling frame, engulfing him in crimson fury. The agony of fire awakened in him the deepest sensation of burning, searing pain. However, his flesh was unharmed, and even as the fire still enveloped him, it seemed as if a new passion awoke within him. He felt alive in a way that he had never felt before. A new sense of strength, a new feeling of noble passion burned within him. The flame was no longer affecting him; pain had fled and the fire seemed to be one with his passions, with his desires and goals. More and more intense the flames grew, blazing in a wrath, as it had never done before. They grew, spiraling around and through him with intense fury. Then finally, with a burst of fire and explosive blast, the flames pulled away from his rigid stance, compressed together, and then hurtled towards his neck. They wrapped around him there for a few mere seconds, and then dissipated. Where the flames last were, there hung the clear white stone, held about his neck by a necklace made of thin, golden metal.

      Arkitol felt a strength surge through him as he had never felt before, yet it did not seem to be a new strength added to his. Rather, the young hunter felt as one who regains the ability to walk after his legs have been broken. It was as if a man who is working discovers that he is stronger than he ever imagined before. However, even this new power that coursed through his veins could not stop his bewilderment, nor alter his dazed state.

      “Welcome Arkitol, Daybreak!” exclaimed a voice, clearer and more beautiful than the dawn. “You are curious about this strange occurrence are you not?” Arkitol whirled around, more confused than he had ever felt before in his young life. As he turned, he caught his breath, for there stood a lady looking both more beautiful, fair and proud than any he had ever seen. She was stern and strong of appearance to the beholder, and in her eyes gleamed the wisdom and pride of nobility. Her hair hung straight down past her shoulders, its light-blonde color catching the sunlight with every slight move she made. She wore a simple white dress that seemed to shimmer and glow of what almost seemed to be it’s own inner light. “What are you doing in these woods?” inquired Arkitol. “The trees of the Runewood were subject to my father, they bent to his will. Why do you intrude on the sacred grounds of my family?”

      The beautiful maiden smoothed her golden-white dress, as if implying that her answers came at her own time in her own way. “We Veldarel can go about the world unheard and unseen if we wish to. As for this forest, it is far older and more sacred than even your father’s memory makes it.” Arkitol was somewhat confused by these strange assertions, but he decided against questioning further. The maiden seemed to have an air of noble authority about her.

      “I am Naralee,” continued the maiden, “The daughter of the Veldaran sentinel. I have shadowed your steps for the few years that make up your short and so far insignificant life. But that is all about to change.” After saying this, she lifted up her hands and gazed up to the sky. “For many years my people have waited for this day, the day when our strength returns”

      Arkitol’s curiosity piqued. Could his mundane life have changed? What great destiny was held for him at the edge of his reality? “What day is this you speak of?” he asked. “Why are you telling me about all of this?”

      “ You ask many questions Arkitol”, replied Naralee. “But that is why I have been sent here. The stone that hurtled from the sun and now hangs around your neck is of vital importance. It is none other than one of our sacred Corulen, the harvest stones. In an age long gone, my peoples king found these stones in the river of Ilil. The Corulen borrow great strength from the forces of nature, and bestow their power upon those destined to wield them. Fear not Arkitol son of Hercan, it was destined that you possess it.”

      “ I am very confused”, said Arkitol. “Why would the strength of a race now passed come to me?”

      “Much will be revealed over time,” answered Naralee. “But for now, you must know that everything you have understood is about to be changed. Now, we must return to your home, we are a long ways from it, and we must hurry, for the extraordinary is not just destined for you”.

      Naralee turned to face the edge of the woods, and with Arkitol following, swiftly yet silently glazed through the small clearing and into the forest towards the simple wooden house that stood alone at the edge of the forest.

      The dreams and emotions of the years poured from his heart into song as he gazed into the low burning fire. Eranor’s heart was filled with emotions that no song could capture fully, but he put it into the best words that he could. He smiled slightly as his gaze turned to the myriad of stars that had begun to shine right after the light dipped below the horizon. He dreamed of the lands beyond his little home, and of the many people that needed, maybe not a leader, but a person to show them that everything was ok. He knew that after his father that he loved had died, that was what he had needed. He would help these people, right? But then he looked down at the glowing embers of the fire and remembered who he was.  How was he to change the world? He was timid and caught up in his fantasies of adventure and hope.

      Eranor left his dreaming and walked over to the small woodpile near his house and grabbed a few small logs and sticks to feed the dying fire with. He placed these on the embers and blew onto them to cause the flame to catch on the new logs. As he did, the ashes of the dying fire jumped up around him and flew into his mouth and eyes. Coughing, he stood up and rubbed his eyes, then looked to the sky and blinked to dispel the ashes from them. As he did, he saw something he had never seen before. Every night, he had watched the stars and he knew their patterns and placements. This night, however, his eyes rested upon the brightest star he had ever seen, a new star that had never before appeared in the sky.

      Forgetting the fire, he ran down the vast field below to better observe its humble beauty. In this stars presence, all other stars shone brighter, as if encouraged by the light of their brother. Eranor stood transfixed by the silver light of its glow. As beautiful as its serene stillness was its fall to earth. Gradually, this star grew larger to the eyes of Eranor as it fell from the heights of the starry sky. Its silver light began to outshine the light of the other stars. Like a tear from the heavens, it fell, glistening, shining, and, as it impacted the ground, dispersing its heavenly light throughout the darkened plains of Arratul.

      Eranor looked at where this beautiful object had fallen, and upon seeing the silver light that rose wispily from it like smoke, felt all his fear fall away. He approached the object slowly, with a reverent curiosity, and with a graceful movement, reached down and carefully picked up the mysterious object. It was a clear stone that glowed with a silver white light that calmed and invigorated the soul. As Eranor was about to turn and walk back to the small, wooden house, the stone began to shine more fiercely. His eyes widened and suddenly in his mind were the tales he had heard from abroad as a child. The stories of the lands lost to the ages swept through his thoughts, and he felt the sadness of kings who lost their thrones, of people that had been deprived of their homes, and he shed small tears of empathy and compassion. As he did, the stone sent out wisps of silver light that surrounded him and swept away his tears. The silver light became one with his emotions and connected to his very being. It filled him with a strength that he had never known before. It was a strength that permeated every aspect of his being and filled him with a power he had never felt.

      The light became brighter as its effects became stronger. Eranor felt great pain, but a pain he felt that he must endure. His passions grew clearer, his desires stronger. His eyes that he had closed in pain now opened and the silver-blue of them seemed to glow slightly as the pain started to subside. Slowly, he rose from his knees and stood, gazing across the plains, as his eyes saw far and wide as they had never seen before. The light pulled off of his body and floated in a sphere in front of him as he gazed awestruck at it. The light swirled faster and faster, until at last it directed itself at his neck and dissipated. Where his neck was now hung the silver glowing stone, suspended by an elaborately woven thread of silver metal.

      Eranor stood, shocked and dumbfounded at the seemingly impossible turn of events. He gazed up to the stars from where his gift had fallen. A dream, or a memory of a dream this seemed, but it felt all too real. As he stared towards the heavens, he heard a voice clear and beautiful as the morning stars.

      “ Welcome Eranor, Starsong. Fate has smiled upon you this day.” Eranor turned around and caught the gaze of a woman with silver-blonde hair, wearing a simple dress of pure white. He quickly bowed in a reverent manner, as this was the polite thing to do.

      “There is no need to do that”, said the lady as she smiled politely back. “I am Naralee, and you two have been given a heavy fate that all wish to have except those that must carry it.”

      “If it does not trouble you I would offer you a place to stay for a while so that you may explain this fate to us my lady.” Replied Eranor, as he perceived that the tale was a long and important one by the tone that she possessed. Arkitol smiled a little and rolled his eyes at his brother’s almost excessive politeness. Eranor had always been this way to anyone that he met, and Arkitol enjoyed poking fun at it.

      “Do not scorn your brother’s courtesy,” rebuked Naralee “ He wishes only to make a good impression.” Eranor smiled a little as well. “Do not worry Naralee,” he said, “I have grown accustomed to it; he is merely jesting and does not mean any harm at all.”

      Naralee stood there, emotionless and calm, unable to understand completely the relationship that the boys had created. Never the less, she continued.

      “As you could no doubt tell, these strange stones have found you and given you a strength that you do not yet understand.” As she said this she looked towards the heavens. “The Corulen are stones of great magic, with the ability to house within them the power of many magical elements. In yours, Arkitol, is housed the proud glory of the sun.  You have been given power over fire and earth, and the ability to do many feats of endurance and strength. Eranor, you have been given the beauty and power of the stars. You have strength over the elements of ice and water. You have also been given the agility that is beyond any of our race or any others. These abilities are gifts, and you must not take them for granted.”

      Both of the brothers looked at each other, wondering how such abilities could be taken for granted at all. But even as they were still pondering over these things, Naralee spoke up once more.

      “You must grab any of your things that you have with you and come with me to your little home, for there is much to discuss, and the sun may rise before these tales are told in full.” Without any further discussion, the three of them turned and walked to the little home and prepared themselves mentally for a very long and story-filled night.

Author's Note

This is only the first draft of this chapter, and as such, probably contains many errors. Please ignore these, focus on the content of this chapter, and give any feedback that you see fit. Thank you! I hope you enjoy it!

Reviews

[Sesame]

Hello Starsong,

Thank you for sharing your chapter with us. I have read it, after it has lingered on my reading list for quite some time. Sorry for the delay. I believe this story is pretty well written, although there are some general suggestions for improvement that I would like to offer you. They are based upon my humble opinion, so do whatever you please with them. Alright, in general you tend to use more words (especially adjectives) than you need to make your point. This makes it a bit tedious to read through the lenghty descriptions everytime. Ask yourself if an object progresses the story, if it has a part to play, if not delete it or turn down the adjectives a notch.

the large chunks of text makes this story a bit hard to read and I did not quite look forward to reviewing such a lengthy piece. If you want to help you reviewers, consider chopping this chapter up in multiple parts.

"where this story begins" a bit like david attenborough's narration, don't overdo it

the story is quite well-written but still contains small errors like " his fathers great workmanship", but since you have asked I will ignore them

" older brother, but he was no less fair in the eyes of all who saw him. He was built much like Arkitol; having a stature that stood only a little shorter than the older son, consisting of lean yet strong limbs that had seen good work. His hair laid neater than his brothers." -> if you have made your point of reference once, there is no need to repeat it, unless it changes of course

all the descriptions are very round and soft, a bit like a Disney film, you might want to add some contrast with grimy or sharp elements, and yes, by this I also mean the scenes with the blazing fire and such

I have not come across a sentence where your parentheses (are merited), and would advocate for replacing them with, commas, or. Starting a new sentence.

I loved your descriptions around the event of Arkitol getting the stone, good job

after a while I got a bit fed up with the word 'noble' are there no synonyms that come to mind?

Then one last personal note, this is not a genre that attracts me enough to keep reading attentively, so I might have missed some opportunities to help you improve. Just a matter of taste I am affraid. But it looks like you're on the right track with this story.

Regards,

Sesame

@followsesame
www.themagiccave.com

[Starsong1997]

Thank you for reviewing this. Many of the issues you brought up are ones that I was concerned about myself. I will make sure to fix these when I go through and edit my story. I intend to make a full-length book from this, so it may be a while before I get around to editing it completely. Thank you so much for reading!

[Jessiej]

The writing is simply amazing, you attention to detail is great. I actually became the character and the surroundings. I would advice you to tell your readers the age of the two boys at times I felt they could be sixteen while other times I felt that they might be twenty two a clear age would greatly improve the story.

[Starsong1997]

Thank you so much! I am currently working on chapter two right now; I hope to have it out soon.