《The Sagas of Mortaholme》Chapter 23:

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hey rode in single file; Olaf at the front on a white charger, and Huldain bringing up the rear on a palomino. Orei still struggled in her saddle, and cursed every time the horses went too fast, causing her short pony to trot or canter to keep up with its long legged friends. The ravine's walls began to open up, and Alun, Marius, and Orei stared in awe at the ruins that they found in the entrance. They entered the throne room, and looked about them, transfixed on what they saw.

Just then, a thought occurred to Marius; Luther looked around as if he expected everything that came before him, whilst Huldain and Olaf seemed sad and almost depressed by the sight. Marius turned to Olaf, feeling more comfortable asking him questions than the fidgety, twitching Luther.

"Olaf, why is the entrance in the throne room?"

Olaf looked across at his student, and smiled sadly. "It’s actually an exit, Marius. This was once the capital of a kingdom called Fanir. Their people believed that the king's responsibility was to his people, so they built an escape route behind the throne for times of crisis. The people would flee for safety behind their king whilst he stood in their defence against his enemies."

Marius looked about him at the ruin. He felt sadness fall about him as he thought of such a proud civilization now lost to the empire.

They rode out from the ruin, and looked out at Alturine. Luther had once thought the empire was faultless; he saw all the good and none of the bad. But the more he saw of Doflhiem and the more he heard about the outside world from his friends, the more he saw the cracks within the marble.

Alun took in the sweeping landscape before them: the vineyards and the green fields, the perfect surroundings of a distant Cornerstone, and then he saw the town itself. Its white washed buildings and halls seemed idyllic, and it shone out. A river snaked around it and off into the sea, powering mills and forges which puffed out dark smoke which blued the surrounding hills. A train track struck off, straight across the farmlands and off into the distance heading towards the Alturine Capitol. Pine forests, mingled with maples and oak, lay below them, covering the foothills of the intersection between the Dragon Fang and Mjolik Fjord mountains.

The companions gathered together and set off down the slopes of the ancient Fanir keep, and out into the civilized clutches of Alturine. The lower down the slopes they rode, the thinner the forest became. It was past midday by now, and the light was shadowed beneath the old pines; Olaf and Huldain were amused and seemed in cheerful spirits as they passed beneath the branches. They smiled and whistled together, making the whole group cheer up out of their dark thoughts and worries since the ruined keep.

Marius knew that Fanir did not fall without a fight; he saw the scorch marks, the scrapes and chunks taken out of the walls. He and his brother were brought up to believe that the Alturine Inquisition was a peaceful takeover, that the story of all Alturine citizens was truth. The three kingdoms that made up the empire mutually agreed to form under Elduin and praise him as their only god, which meant that all others must be cast aside, and in their unity they would find strength and peace. But these were all lies. What they had won in industry they had lost in identity, in tradition, and in honour.

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Suddenly, laughter sifted through the trees. Olaf pulled up and sniffed the air. He dropped lightly off from his mount, and bent low to the ground, still sniffing. His eyes narrowed, and he started to follow a straight path through the trees until the group came to a small hut where two children played. Olaf stopped beside a tree, and looked down at the floor. A small, damp and crinkled piece of parchment lay beside the roots of a pine, and Olaf frowned, bending down to pick it up. His cheerful mood had left the moment he had begun sniffing, but now it was if he had seen a ghost.

With a shaking, wrathful look, he passed the parchment to Huldain. It was clearly addressed to Myrian, and both Olaf and Huldain recognized the hand writing.

Orei pulled up beside them, still shorter on her pony then either Huldain or Olaf, who stood above even Marius, Alun, and Luther still on their horses. Huldain passed her the parchment, and Alun frowned, wondering what was so wrong that none of them had decided to speak yet. Orei went white when she saw the note; she too knew who Myrian's helper was, given away by the S.

Orei cried out, causing the children to stop with their games and stare at the strange travellers; they ran inside to alert their mother. Olaf instantly swung onto his horse, and Huldain followed.

Olaf turned to the others and said, "Myrian passed through here. He stopped for a moment beside this tree, but now has headed off towards a road not too far from this place. No one must know where we came from, so let us flee before anyone else spots us."

With that, he cantered off into the forest with Huldain hot on his heels. Orei cursed, and spurred her pony on, willing for it to keep up with its larger kin. Alun, Marius, and Luther watched them go in confusion, and then snapped into action, kicking their horses on. The children's mother came to the door just in time to see these three men ride off into the trees.

Marius had caught up to his teacher, struggling slightly with his reigns and pace of the horse. Beside him, Luther and Alun cantered on, still confused about what was happening. Orei's pony strained to keep up, its little legs struggling to match the measured pace of its friends. It had never been pushed this hard before, and it wasn't appreciating it.

Suddenly, the forest stopped. The trees fell away without warning, and the six companions came skidding to a halt on a long straight road that lead, according to Olaf, to Cornerstone. Their steeds panted and gasped for air, especially Orei's pony which seemed seconds away from collapsing. Again, Olaf jumped from his charger, and again he sniffed the air.

Alun turned to Huldain, confused by this odd behaviour. "What is Olaf doing?"

Huldain looked at Alun. Still shaken by deep emotion, he seemed off colour – in fact, he was furious. His tattoos pulsed with power, and his axe vibrated with blood thirst. Orei seemed to match this mood. Her small hands wrung her reins together showing white knuckles beneath her steel bracers, and her face flushed angrily, speckled by tears.

Huldain managed to overcome his anger, however, and explained Olaf's actions. "He is tracking Myrian," he said. "We can sense the power of each other. Olaf was always closer to Myrian than I, therefore he is the better man for the job."

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Alun watched Olaf whilst Marius pulled up beside him, and turned to regard Huldain for a moment.

"Would any of you mind sharing what is on that parchment you found back there?” He said. “Clearly it was something important."

Huldain nodded slowly, reigning in his anger. He coughed once, loudly and then spoke. "In Doflhiem, Olaf and myself investigated the Hanging Block, as you know, to find any clues to how Myrian escaped. We found that someone had unlocked his weapon and smuggled him in a piece of rare metal that I used to forge his chains. He picked his chains with that, and escaped via a hidden door. That parchment was a note written to Myrian by his helper, signed with an S; Orei, Olaf, and myself all recognized the hand writing."

Marius waited for Huldain to control himself. Clearly he was struggling, but Alun let impatience get the better of him. "Well, who was it? Who helped Myrian escape?"

Orei moved up with her friends, clearly distressed and angered by the answer. "It was Saurin, Alun, my mentor and master of the Western Gate. He is the guilty party."

Alun stared in horror. Marius now understood why Olaf, Huldain, and Orei had been so shocked by the parchment – Saurin had betrayed them all.

Olaf called out to the others, snapping them into action. "This way all of you. He walked this way."

Olaf started to jog, pulling his horse along after him. His friends did the same, thinking it best to give their horses a rest. They continued on at a dogged pace; Orei puffed loudly, and Luther had given up all together. Getting back on his horse, he followed his companions, and after a while, the others came. Olaf began to track from his charger’s back.

As the sun set, giving way to a starry sky, a small guard house could be seen – a way house point for patrols and road maintenance. Olaf put up his hand, halting the others, and dismounted. Handing his reigns to Huldain, he drew his sword, and carefully proceeded towards the barracks. His tattoos glowed brightly in the dark, as did the runes which swirled across his blade. His over coat flared out behind him as he walked, and his lion headed pauldron glittered beneath the sky. He tapped the door with his foot, allowing it to swing open, and then proceeded inside. Seconds later, he came back out, his sword sheathed, and a worried look on his face. He looked up to his brother, and shook his head.

Huldain sighed, and dismounted, followed by Orei, Alun, and Marius. They tied up their horses on a pole outside the guard house, and entered. Guards lay everywhere, and dried blood splattered the walls. Most of them seemed surprised, whilst others lay with a look of horror plastered across their dead faces. All had their throats torn from their necks. The occasional corpse had a hole in their chest, displaying an open cavity devoid of a heart, whilst others had burn marks across a perfectly slit throat.

Huldain looked at Olaf and sighed. Olaf leant against the door frame looking around at the massacre.

“It would seem that the note was speaking the truth then. Myrian has indeed re-forged his bow," Olaf said.

The five of them walked back out into the night; Luther had been feeding the horses, not wanting to see the death.

Huldain went over to him and patted him on the back. "Luther, I'm going to need you to go and do something for me."

Luther looked worried, but swallowed his fear and nodded. "What is it you want me to do?"

Huldain gave him a kind smile, and said, "I'm going to need you and Orei to go and speak with the king. Tell him about Saurin, and make sure he takes him into custody. I also need you to tell him that Myrian has had his bow re-forged. He will know what to do with this information."

Orei looked up at the mention of her name and frowned. "I'm not coming with you?"

Olaf shook his head. "No, Orei. You and Luther must see your father and explain to him the betrayal. If you don't, we may all be in danger."

Orei nodded, understanding what she must do. She turned to Alun and smiled. "I guess this is farewell then, my friend. I will see you soon."

Alun nodded, surprised at the sudden split in the group. "Until then, princess."

Orei smiled, and then turned to Marius. "Look after your brother, swordsman, and maybe teach him a few tricks – he will need them."

Finally, Orei regarded Huldain and Olaf. With a simple salute, she turned, and with the help of Luther, mounted her pony. With one last wave from the both of them, Orei and Luther rode off into the night. Tracing back through the forest on the trail they had come, towards Doflhiem they rode.

Alun sighed, sad in the absence of his friends. He looked over to Marius who offered him a smile, and together they mounted up and waited for Olaf and Huldain to move out in pursuit of Myrian. The night passed by, and Alun began to feel exhaustion set in. It had been two days with no sleep since the Dreagul attack, and it was beginning to wear down on him. He could see the same signs in his brother, too. Even Olaf and Huldain seemed sluggish in their movement. Caught between fear, worry, and sleep deprivation, Alun pulled up his horse. Olaf, Huldain and Marius turned around and stared at him, wondering what he was doing.

Alun pointed at a patch of grass beside the road, and said, "Look, I can see it in all of you and I know that I, myself, am falling from my horse. We have not had a proper sleep since Trystem. If Myrian is in Cornerstone or close by, he has had the past seven to eight days to rest up and recover. We need to rest."

Olaf nodded. "The lad has a point. Alright, let’s have a few hours shut-eye before we start out again."

With that, he slid off from his horse and pulled out his pipe. Alun almost fell off his own horse, and fumbled as he tied it up. He did not need a sleeping mat, as he found a soft patch of grass and laid out, stretching out the soreness he had accrued from riding over rough country. Marius laid out his own bed mat, and wrapping his coat around him, he closed his eyes and cradled his blades. Huldain simply wrapped his own cloak around him and fell asleep, whilst Olaf sat up smoking his pipe until it was finished. Then he packed it away, and leant against a tree, lightly dozing.

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