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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Aglanthol 3 - The Castle of Saelethiel (The Law Cannot Be Shaken) - 1. Chapter 1

Aglanthol 3

The Castle of Saelethiel

(The Law Cannot Be Shaken)

by

Dolores Esteban

 

 

 

Prologue

 

No man can avoid his destiny. This law is written in the book of time.

The Castle of Saelethiel lies high up in the Western Mountains. It was founded in the mists of time. The castle guards secrets that are far beyond a man’s understanding. The guardians of the castle watch out and enforce the law. The law is timeless and it cannot be shaken. But only those who are ready are summoned to face the truth.

The Castle of Saelethiel is hidden from the eyes of an average man. Only the wise men know where to find it. The brethren watch out and enforce the law. When time has come man must face the truth. He is summoned to look into the abyss of his soul. Man must undergo a trial.

No man can avoid his destiny, however hard he tries. This law is valid for all times. This law cannot be shaken.

~~**~~

Dran looked up and glanced around. An uneasy feeling had taken hold of him. However, he did not see anything unfamiliar. The peasant Dran turned back to digging up his field.

A man on a horse watched him from the shadows. The man hid in the forest on the top of the hill that was near Dran’s farmhouse and fields. The man looked through the leaves. He was dressed in a long and black robe and his face was hidden by a hood. The man’s face showed no expression. Only his slightly narrowed eyes indicated his hostility. The man looked down the hill and gazed at the peasant.

So this man, a peasant, an average and simple man had retrieved Norlorn’s sword from the ground. The hooded man gazed at Dran. Dran, however, did not notice him. Ogol compressed his lips. It was just not fair. But what could he do about it? He could not turn back time and change the course of events. Ogol gave a dry laugh at his thought.

He had located Norlorn’s sword just a bit too late. The energy, however, had still been strong when Ogol had found the place. Ogol had tracked the energy lines. One had led to the peasant Dran. His spies had watched the man for a while. One of them, disguised as a merchant, had even talked to the man. He had subtly inquired the man, but all he had learned was that Dran had had an accident in the wood. His neighbour had found him and had saved his life. The peasant apparently suffered from amnesia. Ogol was sure that the peasant had retrieved the sword and someone then had sealed his memories in order to save the man from his disturbing memories.

His reflections had led Ogol to the wizard Neldor who lived at the royal court of Aglanthol. The retrieved sword had released Khaalindaan’s energy that had been banned for a thousand years. Ogol had come to release this energy in order to use it for his advantage. But when he had finally found the place, the energy had already been released and absorbed and only energies from a fight had remained. Who had fought against Khaalindaan? Who had neutralized the energy? Ogol was sure that a powerful wizard had absorbed it. He was sure that the wizard Neldor had had a hand in it. The peasant down there digging up his field was no threat to Ogol. Neldor, however, was a threat. He could endanger Ogol’s aspiring plans. The wizard Neldor was the one he had to watch.

Dran looked up again and looked around nervously. He felt cold despite the warm spring sun. The uneasy feeling had returned and he was not able to shake it off. Dran looked at the edge of the forest. Ogol tensed as the peasant looked in his direction. Did he see him? Ogol was not sure, but he doubted it. The trees hid him from the sight of the man. But the peasant had retrieved Norlorn’s sword. Who knew what the powerful magic had done to him? Who knew if not Norlorn’s magic had changed the peasant’s perception. Ogol sat motionless on his horse and studied Dran. No, the man was not able to see him. The peasant looked around and did not fix his gaze on the mighty wizard of the Khalindash clan.

Dran turned back to his work. Ogol watched him for another while, but then he lost interest in the man. No, the man would not endanger his plans. It was a pity that the simple man had stumbled upon Norlorn’s sword and had retrieved it from the ground. Ogol had been looking for the sword for many years. He had planned to retrieve it and absorb the spirit of Khaalindaan.

Khaalindaan had been the mightiest wizard of the Clan of Bre who later called themselves the Clan of Khalindash, the avengers of Khaalindaan. Only one man had been more powerful than Khaalindaan: the man who had defeated the wizard.

Ogol gave a disdainful hiss. Norlorn, the mighty wizard of the Aglanthol, had defeated Khaalindaan in the final battle. However, he had only been able to ban Khaalindaan’s spirit for a thousand years. Then the spirit could be released again by retrieving Norlorn’s sword from the ground. Ogol gave another hiss. The thousand years had passed and he had planned to retrieve the sword for he found that he was Khaalindaan’s worthy successor.

Ogol’s magic was indeed powerful. He was the mightiest Khalindash wizard in centuries and Khaalindaan’s spirit would have ultimately made him invincible. Unfortunately, the peasant had retrieved the sword and Khaalindaan’s spirit had been absorbed and neutralized by Neldor, the old Aglanthol wizard.

Ogol let out another hiss.

"I must not deceive myself," he said to himself. "This would endanger me and my plans. I must think clearly and with cold logic. Neldor neutralized Khaalindaan’s spirit. This man is a real threat to me, not that peasant down there who has no clue. I must find Neldor and..." Ogol gave a laugh. "...and neutralize him before I follow through with my ultimate plan."

Ogol’s horse shook its head and shuffled its feet. Ogol pulled on the reins. And then he turned his horse and disappeared into the forest.

~~**~~

Dran wiped his forehead. It was covered with sweat. The hard work was exhausting him. The exhaustion reminded him that he was not a young man anymore. The work on the fields grew more tedious every year. Dran looked at the edge of the wood. At least the uneasy feeling had finally gone. He shook his head. The feeling had reminded him of the day in winter when his neighbour Magath had found him in the wood. He had been lying on the ground, unconscious and his body numb.

Magath had told him that he had had an accident. His neighbour Gwyn had supported Magath’s story. Dran had had no reasons to doubt their words. He had trusted his neighbours. But, as time had passed, he had found the explanation was all too simple. He was sure that Magath and the old woman Gwyn had agreed to conceal something from him. He had wanted to ask them to tell him more of what had happened that day. Something, however, always stopped him from asking. Whenever he opened his mouth to ask questions he forgot about them from one second to the other and only later remembered what he had wanted to ask. This disturbed Dran a great deal. But he ascribed it to his age. His father had suffered from the same malady. Dran hoped his malady would not get worse. He did not want to end up like his father. The man had been confined to bed in his latest year before death had released him from his fate and had released his mother from a sorrow.

Dran did not know that magic concealed the truth from him. The wizard Neldor had sealed Dran’s memories in order to save the man pain, bad dreams, and disturbing thoughts. Only an uneasy feeling told Dran that the truth was hidden from him. It was the same feeling that he had had a few minutes ago. Dran looked absent-mindedly at the edge of the wood. Then a rustle distracted him. Dran blinked and then recognized a rider coming down the path from the wood to his field. Dran watched him approaching.

Magath dismounted and greeted Dran. Dran looked at him mischievously for a moment. Had the man hidden in the forest on the top of the hill? Had his neighbour watched him furtively? Dran’s suspicions disappeared, however, when Magath smiled and acted as usual.

"How are you doing, Dran?" Magath asked.

"Digging up the field," Dran said.

Magath nodded.

"A good day for doing it. I also started with it this morning. I have seeds left over. That’s why I came here. Are you interested, Dran?" he asked.

Magath pulled a bag from the horse and opened it. Dran looked inside and took a handful of grains. He looked at them closely. Then he smelled at them.

"Barley. Good quality. I’ll take the bag. What do you want for it in exchange?" he asked.

"I heard you still have plenty of maize. I’m running out of stocks," Magath replied.

Dran nodded.

"I have plenty of maize. The harvest was good. And the Khalindash did not come and steal my bags," he said.

Dran stiffened. He looked at the edge of the wood. The uneasy feeling had returned.

"Is anything wrong?" Magath asked at the sudden change of Dran’s behaviour. His eyes followed Dran’s look up the hill. He looked at the edge of the wood.

Dran shrugged.

"Just an uneasy feeling," he said. "I was thinking of that day in winter. I cannot say why. I cannot shake off the thought."

Magath watched Dran closely. So far, the man had never inquired on what had happened on that particular day. Neither he nor his neighbour Gwyn had ever revealed it to him. They had done what the wizard Neldor had told them. Magath, however, had never felt good with concealing the truth from Dran. He had made it a habit to visit his neighbour regularly. Once a week he rode over to Dran who lived alone in his farmhouse on the other side of the hill. He visited Dran just to make sure that the elderly man was all right.

"An uneasy feeling?" Magath asked, watching Dran out of the corner of his eye.

Dran shrugged. Magath looked at the edge of the wood again. He saw nothing unfamiliar.

"Whatever happened that day, I don’t really want to know," Dran said defensively. "But I know it was a bad day. Something evil was lurking out there. This afternoon, I had a feeling that the evil had returned," he said.

Magath tensed inwardly. He gazed at the edge of the wood and then turned his eyes back to his neighbour. Dran looked up the hill grimly.

"Why?" Magath asked. His voice was tensed and he was unable to conceal it.

Dran gave him a piercing look.

"You know more than you tell me," he said grumpily. "Mind you, I do not want to know. But perhaps you should investigate up there," he said, pointing up the hill.

Magath nodded briefly.

"I will," he said. "I’ll ride up and have a look."

They measured each other for a second. Then Dran gave a brief nod.

"Come," he said. "I’ll give you a bag of maize."

Dran led Magath to his house and went to get a bag of maize from the storeroom. Magath left a short while later. He rode up the hill like he had said. Dran looked after him grimly.

"Mind you, I do not want to know," he said to, his eyes fixed on Magath’s back. "But you’ll better check. You’ll better watch out."

Dran watched Magath ride up the hill. Then he turned around and went into his house.

Magath sensed Dran’s eyes on his back. He felt nervous. He had never admitted it to anyone. But he had always had a feeling that the jinx was not yet buried once and for all.

~~**~~

 

 

 

 

2012 Dolores Esteban
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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It's good to read a story whose characters are real, human, with weaknesses with which we can all associate. Realism helps suspend disbelief, and is the halmark of a good story. This one is just complex enough to be interesting, without being too complicated to follow.

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On 02/07/2012 06:57 AM, David McLeod said:
It's good to read a story whose characters are real, human, with weaknesses with which we can all associate. Realism helps suspend disbelief, and is the halmark of a good story. This one is just complex enough to be interesting, without being too complicated to follow.
Hi, David. Glad to see you back. Thanks for reading my story and leaving a review.
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