The Legends of Branda - Prologue

Raidir stood in the middle of the Dark Hall. He was alone, waiting for Brother Salvor, who had summoned him.

Standing at the Dark Hall had that strange consequence of messing with one's sense of time. He knew that he had been waiting for some time but couldn't tell how long. It's the Warden Stone, Raidir told himself. Yes, it must be it. The magic channelled by the Warden Stone was so powerful that it disturbed everything around it. Not that he was right next to it. The Warden Stone was located in the floor below him, in the first level of caves, closed down inside some sort of vault built by the old masters of the city. Nonetheless its power could be felt in the Dark Hall.

A drop of sweat trickled from his brow. He was feeling hot. Maybe it was the rough woollen hood over his head. Maybe the nervousness he was feeling. Maybe both things. Then another drop of sweat followed the first one and Raidir realized it were not just the eyebrows but he was sweating under his robes.

He tried to ignore it and stared at the tall stone walls of the room, blackened by the passing of time, the wearing of centuries and the mistreatment it suffered for so long at the hands of Orcs and Goblins.

Raidir shivered with rage. It should be HIS city. HIS city! It had been built by his ancestors, ages ago, and it was lost due only to their weakness. He couldn’t understand how a people who had achieved such extraordinary things as such a city couldn’t have seen the path of Darkness as their true destiny, especially considering that they had come from the darkest places in the womb of the land. They were supposed to be the people of darkness, not those orcs, brutes born from the cinder of ancient fires, forsaken even by Korkurion. Or the treacherous and slimy goblins, even more despicable than the orcs. In its blindness his people had refused to worship the mighty Korkurion and its Black Powers and in the end they had lost their city.

Dazaz’Tar. It had been once known as Dazaz’Tar, the jewel of all the cities built by the races of the Branda. Legends spoke of the city lights that poured through the immense windows and balconies carved in the mountain’s slopes, creating the illusion that around the city the sun never sat. Dazaz'Tar, the city of smiths and artificers to whom iron and steel, copper and bronze, gold or silver had no secrets. They were the best of the best of Branda. They worked their metals with such skilled craftsmanship that all seemed to melt under the touch of their hands.

Everything was gone now. Those who remained went south, with the Great Escape of the Dwarves, to Dazaz'Etur, located in the vowels of a solitary mountain in the middle of unending plains, a shadow of what Dazaz'Tar had been and now he was a stranger in the old city of his people, a follower of the powers that should be, one to be summoned by the unstable will of an unstable man.

He raised his eyes but couldn’t see the ceiling. He could only imagine it carved all over, in the writing of the old tong, with vivid sculptures which would tell the tales of his race. He knew it had been there because some of those images were now scattered throughout the floor around him, out of the Black Circle, remnants of what it once was.

It was as if the city had surrendered itself. Now it was Orkast, a city of orcs. Raidir's eyes shone lightly under his black hood. All the fibres of his body pulsed in anger every time he thought about orcs. He needed a good part of his self-control when standing around them so he wouldn’t show his despise. Orcs were incapable of reasoning beyond war and violence, always teasing each other, always fighting. It was an insult to the memory of his ancestors that Dazaz’Tar had been taken by such creatures, free to wander through its deepest galleries and rooms, as lords of a city and a land that should never have been theirs.

Raidir couldn’t avoid a grimace of scorn when thinking about that and forced himself to dismiss such thoughts. He focused again on himself and tried to explore the darkness around him. Light was scarce at best and he dared not move from the spot he was standing on. He had been summoned and all he could do was to wait.

Nonetheless his mind wandered again. It wasn’t the first time he had been there, but he never had seen what once was called the Merchant's Hall to all of its extent. By what he had learned, it was the greatest of all the squares of Dazaz’Tar: a place where everyone would meet, share gossips and do business. He imagined it to be a huge place. However, only a very small part was now used. Most of it was destroyed and in ruins, and though the high pillars were still in place – and luckily they were, for otherwise the entire city would collapse – the place was filled with debris. There were, scattered around, broken statues, pieces of plaster, stones which fell from above, dirt. So much dirt.

Orcs seldom used those quarters, except for a few regular patrols. They remained in the outer part of the city, the old Golden Gate, from where a road would take the traveller to the southern plains. His Order used the Red Gate, opening to the East, to the high mountains that connected the city and the adjacent valleys with the lands known as the Tormented, northern wastelands mostly empty of life, torched by heat, almost inaccessible but for the most daring and suicidal adventurers.

Raidir tried again to probe the shadows around him, but his success was the same as before. He devised the tall, black chair in front of him, where Brother Salvor would sit, and the benches placed around him, waiting for the other members of the Inner Circle; all these bordering the black circumference carved in the floor’s worn out stone.

A cold, chilling breeze could be felt from time to time, making him somewhat uneasy even if it should be welcome. It brought a foul scent with it, from other, deeper and forgotten places inside the city.

He grew restless. He didn’t know exactly how long he was waiting there but it seemed ages had passed since he was commanded to wait inside the circle. It should be important. Either it would be a punishment or a reward, for waiting in the circle was a matter of importance. Usually, Brother Salvor would have a private meeting – or a public one, it depended on the importance of the subject – when it was some of a more common matter.

Raidir reviewed mentally his last weeks, looking for a motive for punishment. Not finding any, he reasoned that only some sort of reward was coming on his direction, though he couldn’t devise any motif for that either. Anyway, it certainly was something important. Raidir Darkfoot was just a member of the brotherhood, and it wouldn’t be for a vain or unimportant reason that he would have been summoned to that place and forced to wait for so long.

He closed his eyes and stretched his mind, groping the area around him. Not feeling a thing he widened the search area, stretching his mind even further. Rats, bugs, nothing of importance. He turned his attention to the main entrance and shivered. Darkness. He felt a dense darkness approaching him slowly. Brother Salvor was there, looking at him. Raidir felt him smiling, a sort of wretched smile, as he used to do when amused. He withdrew hastily his mind. ‘Very well, very well, Brother, I’m impressed with your progress’, Raidir heard in his mind as the owner of the wretched smile was focusing more intensely on him, evaluating, touching the outer walls of his mind, and caressing him with some sort of a twisted delight. Then, in a sudden, the presence vanished from his mind.

"I believe you’ll do nicely, Brother Raidir."

Raidir opened his eyes and straightened up. Salvor was sitting in front of him and was wearing that same smile Raidir had seen in his mind, if such a line could be called a smile.

The Master of the Order was wearing a woollen robe like Raidir's. The same black with only a small silvery pin with the form of a distorted bull head, the symbol of Vallok. His lips were slim and cold, no more than thin, darkened lines drawn under a crooked nose, whose nostrils could hardly be seen. His chin was likewise thin but Raidir couldn’t tell about his eyes because he had never seen them, though he was sure they were there always looking, inspecting and analysing everything and everybody around him. He could feel them spiked on him that precise moment.

"Yes, you will do nicely", Salvor repeated, as if talking to himself.

"I’m yours to serve", answered Raidir, bowing.

A murmur of approval spread around Raidir, bringing him in touch with his surroundings. He hadn’t seen the other members of the Circle taking their places. He bit his lower lip reproaching himself for being so focused on his Master that he lowered his guard. In any other situation it could prove fatal.

"The Order has a mission for you, Brother", Salvor said.

Raidir felt a shiver creeping all over him, but didn’t move. He just remained unmoving, waiting, because he knew Salvor hadn’t finished yet.

"You’ll infiltrate our enemies. You’ll serve them with the same dedication you serve us. You’ll be acquainted with their plans, their hopes and their fears. You’ll convince our enemies that you’re one of them. And you will, of course", Salvor added, "inform us of every plan, every word, every breath they exhale."

Raidir was again completely focused on Brother Salvor, who sat in front of him, his hood hiding, as always, most of his face. With such faint light around them he couldn’t even see Salvor’s lips moving as he was speaking, and this absence of movement gave an otherworldly taste to the all scene.

"Yes, Master Salvor", Raidir answered.

He knew he was the only one to call him Master. Although Salvor wasn't fond of dwarves he enjoyed the respect. All the others called him Brother. It angered him but he couldn't reproach them. It was the use of the Order. They would all, in the end, to know oblivion in the hands of Korkurion. They were brothers because of that.

"You will learn of their weaknesses and their strengths and you will tell us in order for us to sweep them away from our path and the face of Branda."

"I’ll do as you wish", Raidir saidm bowing once again.

Salvor looked around the circle, observing the other members' dark figures, standing there in quietness, as always, and waiting for the meeting to end. He knew the faint light would conceal it, so he smiled for what was going to happen.

"I know you will, Brother", Salvor said, still talking to Raidir but with his mind already a step ahead.

Raidir could feel the surprise of the members of the Inner Circle. It wasn’t the expected answer. The meeting wasn’t over yet. He narrowed his eyes but didn’t move nor dared to send his mind to look around him. It wouldn't be necessary anyway. He could feel the surprise and some disturbance in the energy around him, as if fear had suddenly been set free, curling around the members of the Inner Circle, all of them sitting on their, now uncomfortable, chairs.

Raidir knew that something was going to happen and he reached for the rings in his left hand, although he was aware that whatever was going to happen had nothing to do with him. If such an assignment was given to him, it meant he was on the clear. However, he could feel, as well as the other members, that the same wasn't true to at least one of those present. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t be caught off guard again, and one of the rings would grant him a protective shield that would endure a few seconds in case of need.

"Your mission is a difficult one, Brother Raidir", said Salvor, cutting the heavy silence as if he had a knife instead of a voice, "I would say a challenging one, even. So I thought that we should invoke higher powers to aid in your troubles."

He became silent and observed the result of his words. Then he stretched his mind around and felt the members of the Circle relaxing a little. Only Raidir remained expectant.

Salvor paused for a moment. The dwarf was the best pupil he ever had. He was cunning and powerful. In fact, as powerful as he, Salvor, was once. Fortunately, his pupil never suspected of the dimension of his own power, and Salvor never cared to let him know. Raidir served Salvor’s own purposes again and again in a most satisfactory way, he would say, and this was plainly good. But Salvor didn’t know how long the dwarf would remain an obedient pupil and sooner or later he would have to deal with him. It won't be a grievous moment, Salvor thought as to deal with a dwarf would be a pleasure, to be certain. Then the idea of sending him away came to his mind and after giving it some thought, Salvor found it a most satisfying one. It would probably solve his problem if Raidir was caught up. If not, on his return, Salvor would deal with him swiftly. But now, he had to deal with a minor nuisance.

"We will invoke our Master, Vallok, the Right Hand of Korkurion, Lord of the Nether, General of the Unending Armies, rightful Head of our Order."

Raidir felt a shiver in his spine. He knew something was coming. He could feel it. He could say the other members were having the same thoughts because he began to feel them squirming in their places, rubbing their hands, their hoods almost imperceptibly moving, as they tried to observe the ones by their side.

Salvor was also taking notice of these movements, feeling the tension grow and the unmistakable stench of fear spreading around him. He grinned, feeling a dark joy spreading over all his body, his hands dormant with the power surging through him. He couldn’t live without such sensations, he thought, not anymore. He shivered a little, for a moment, until he regained control over his body. As he was growing in power, it was becoming more and more difficult to control it. These ceremonies were quite useful for him to let go the power in excess, otherwise he would be overrun by it, has had happened to the former Head of the Order. Salvor was firmly in the disposition to avoid the same fate his predecessor had.

"Lord Vallok", he began, his voice in a lower tone than before, "I bid thy Power, the Power of Darkness that encompasses thy Being, the Power of Rage that folds under thy Nature, the Power of Anger that wraps thy Existence."

"Attend to our pledge, Mighty Vallok", answered Raidir and the other members, in unison.

"Lord Vallok", Salvor went on, "I bid thy Strength, the Strength of Death that encompasses thy Being, the Strength of Corruption that folds under thy Nature, the Strength of Agony that wraps thy Existence."

"Attend to our pledge, Mighty Vallok", again repeated Raidir and the members of the Inner Circle.

"Lord Vallok", Brother Salvor continued, "I bid thy Life, the Life of Cruelty that encompasses thy Being, the Life of Despair that folds thy Nature, the Life of Oblivion that wraps thy Existence."

"Attend to our pledge, Mighty Vallok."

The triple invocation was finished. Salvor felt the energy coursing through his body and an intense urge to use it, to let it flow. He closed his eyes and saw it, dark light flowing around him, coming from bellow, from the Warden Stone, connecting him with his fellow brothers, blocking the circle at which centre Raidir stayed. He felt his body arch with the flow of energy and exerted a great deal of control to not surrender to it. He knew such power would tear him apart.

"Come", he whispered, though the whisper was heard by all the members in front of him. His eyes were closed but he could see clearly. He could see the body of the member whose days would end in moments. He could feel his resistance when touched by Salvor’s mind, he could feel him closing down his soul, raising his protections, though everything was in vain. Salvor was now channelling the power of Vallok. He was unstoppable.

The hooded figure tried to fight. It was useless. Salvor moved his left hand and all the other members, Raidir included, followed its direction. The hooded figure was lifted from the ground, as if weightless, and floated in the direction of the circle. He was finally grounded inside the circle, right in front of Raidir. The stench of fear, though impressively strong, was now surpassed by something more authoritative, although subtle. Death was present among them.

Salvor kept his eyes closed. It was so simple, so easy, he thought. He could see under the hood of the man in front of him. He could see his scared eyes, he could touch his fear, he could see him tremble and then he feasted on his brother's weakness. He fed from it, enjoying the sour taste of anticipated death mixed with fear and despair. At last he opened his eyes.

"You’ve failed us, Brother", he said, his voice a faint murmur. The man remained in silence.

"You’ve failed me and the Order", Salvor repeated, in a higher pitch.

"You know failure was the only expectable result of what you intended to do", the man said.

Brother Salvor remained silent and the man went on.

"You knew the elves would never succumb to any sort of temptation. You knew that beforehand, didn’t you?"

Raidir looked, astonished, to the man as he had no recollection of such defiance since he had been accepted in the Order. Suddenly the man kneeled, his head pending over his chest, unable to move, as Brother Salvor’s left hand extended in the man’s direction. The flow of energy from the Order’s Master to the kneeling man was perfectly palpable, though not visible. Raidir understood instinctively the power. He couldn’t avoid to be shaken by the comprehension of such reality, though he could seldom grasp its nature.