From Distant Shores Collection Part 1 - K.R. Gomlok (free books to read .txt) 📗

reassured by that, he began to patrol the shores cautiously, though limping a little on his left ankle.
He now recalled he been told in his childhood that the ocean was dangerous but now it was hard to resist the temptation to leap into the regal turquoise waters heedless of the peril. And indeed, soon he could no longer keep from the chorus of the waves.
Thus, Valormin, wanderer of the grey lands, took his inevitable first step into the waters of the great oceans.
The cool green waters greeted him with an icy embrace as he waded in, leaving the stable sands of the beaches behind. He closed his eyes and savored the chill, was this what it felt like in the north havens of the Elves? For the first time in the two weeks since Mäsene had died he gave himself to the rush of liberty.
However, his silent enjoyment was suddenly interrupted when he felt something brush passed his leg. Upon instinct, he jumped back with a yelp of surprise before he noticed it was a bottle. Intrigued, he lifted it up and peered inside at what appeared to be a tightly rolled piece of parchment.
Could it be a message in a bottle? By chance he had come to the beach and miraculously received a message from some far off distant land! With vigor, he seized the prize and scanned its contents. Strangely enough, he found he could read it, though he could not remember the last time he had seen written language of this form. It was a poem, but it seemed to carry something deeper within it; a further message was hidden in the simple words. But for now, he could only guess at what that might be and thus the poem read:

From the far off shores of Kädorin,
A sleeping power lies within.
A hero yet to realize might,
A royal yet to take his right.

My memories are deep and dark,
But from the shadows I must embark,
To find for myself this far off land,
And protect it gently with my hand.

For fear of loss, of moments wasted,
I think of fruits not yet tasted,
That lie far off forevermore,
Upon the sands from distant shores.

-Ginrial Duladún

The words rang in Valormin?s ears as thousand thoughts raced through his mind. Who was this Ginrial? What significance did this cryptic message hold? Did it hold any connection to him? And lastly: What would happen should he find these distant shores? It seemed that something beyond imagination was waiting for him. He needed a purpose, ever since he had been set free he had felt the emptiness inside that came from a lack of direction.
A slow smile spread across his face, tucking the message into his pouch, he raced up the beach. If he went far enough East he would eventually find civilization.
And from there? there was no telling where he would go. He feared the thoughts of what he might encounter on his quest, yet he could not deny the urge he felt to leave the enclosed world he had once known. He now knew a purpose. The line had been crossed; there was no going back. Some day he would make it. Somehow, he would find those distant shores.


?What will we do when we get to Xanlow?? Joria asked, looking out of the window, her brown hair blowing in the mountain breeze.
Nafilas shrugged, placing plates on the table of the village leader. ?Perhaps the elders there will be able to tell us. Things have become more and more dangerous as the tensions have escalated. Word has it that the Halthact are on a war path to the Skaranite palace.?
?Don?t worry,? Xölwin told them over his shoulder, his tall frame bent over the fireplace. ?If we do run into trouble, Cioellen and I can probably take them. Besides, I doubt the locals would interfere with Elven matters.?
Nafilas cast her gaze to Xölwin?s back, wondering if he was being overconfident or if he was simply trying to reassure her. Even a party of five Elves was no match for a Halthact war host.
?My people will protect us,? Garmt, the leader of the village of Cabat entered the room. ?No matter the cost. We are a strong people. But for now, let us be calm and feast. For the shadows have not yet reached us. Call in your friends before they catch cold.?
Joria complied with his wishes and soon they were seated around the wooden table. There were six of them, including Garmt. They were a group of five Elves headed for the Southern citadel Xanlow. At the head of the party were Xölwin and Joria, Elf warriors and siblings, sent to escort Cioellen and Lisean who were both apprenticed to a mapmaker and were along to chart a new route for other young Elves since the older paths were becoming infested with the advancing Halthact.
Nafilas was their pathfinder. It was her duty to find a way through the wilderness and keep them in semi agreeable terrain. She also had the task of reading the weather. She had first volunteered to accompany them at Volnora Londe. She had been naïve then, only knowing her craft from the training of her master, Cilomë. Yet she had had confidence in those untested abilities, confidence enough to leave on a journey where peril was ensured. They had already faced the wrath of the great ocean and now they were making their way across the countryside of a disputed land plagued with war.
They were on the journey that all young Elves took as a rite of passage. Though it was not mandatory that Elves between the age of eighteen and twenty-one went to one of the great chronic citadels in order to prove themselves, many did it to show their independence.
?So tell me, Elfinty,? Garmt said, as they finished the meal, his gloved hands resting on his long brown beard that was cut down the middle by a silver streak. ? How long will you stay with us??
?Actually,? Joria explained, a hint of hesitancy coloring her voice, ?we were planning on leaving as soon as possible. We?d like to get through the mountains before the dry season comes in.?
?Oh, I see,? Garmt replied, somewhat more subdued, ? I was rather hoping that you would stay and help us. The Zalians on our borders have become more restless than usual.?
?The Zalians?? Xölwin inquired, his light eyebrows furrowed in thought, ?What are the Zalians? Certainly a new species cannot have risen in these older days.?
The uncertain look that Garmt gave them was somewhat less than reassuring, ?We do not know, but they have long been near us. Something is vile about them. As if they are immersed in darkness.?
?So you Fear that the clouds of war are about to burst?? Nafilas asked, studying Garmt?s face. He seemed tense, as if the fragile safety around them was about to go up in?
?Look out!? Lisean cried, pushing Joria down as the walls burst into flames. ?Cabat is under assault!?
Jumping to their feet, Xölwin and Cioellen simultaneously drew their swords. ?Separate in combat?? Xölwin started.
?? Together at heart.? Cioellen finished. ?We will protect you Garmt. Ready your people.?
Nodding to each other, they split up: Garmt with Xölwin and Joria and Cioellen with the remaining two. For the last time in a long while, they entered battle as one.
Nafilas, who was an archer by choice, took up position behind Cioellen and Lisean who were both armed with Elven blades. The village burned around them, lighting the deep night sky. Villagers ran about, some bringing forth swords and bows to stand their ground and others fleeing for the woods at the far side of the village.
Quickly, Nafilas attempted to evaluate the situation, Lisean was not as adept as Cioellen at the art of swordplay but she could hold her ground well which was all Nafilas needed to shoot efficiently. Cioellen was better with a sword but only when pushing forward, so he would take the offensive. It was not the best combination but it would have to do. She winced as the war howls of the approaching Halthact saturated the night air with terror.
For the one moment before they were overwhelmed, the three of them locked gazes. ?Together at heart,? Nafilas whispered to herself, forcing down the fear that was fighting for control of her actions. A Halthact ran around the corner, followed by ten more. She loosed her first arrow?


Valormin looked over the village with a slight air of disdain. It was the first settlement he had seen since Ramador and after a month in the natural world he was somewhat reluctant to return to society.
The smoke of a thousand cooking fires stained the overcast sky that hung overhead. Though Valormin loathed the thought of entering the gloomy settlement, he knew that he would have to obtain a boat sooner or later and the earlier he got into the ocean the sooner he would leave behind whatever might hinder him on land. The sea called to him and it was futile to resist. He had nothing else to believe in.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the stone paved streets hoping it was friendly than Ramador had been. Judging by the heavy smell of baking breads and roasting meats, a local celebration was going on. Unfortunately, that probably meant delay.
Wondering if the local customs would interrupt business, he headed for the docks, which were full of small vessels. ?What is the occasion?? he asked a villager near the docks. The villager looked at him blankly, clearly not understanding his words.
Puzzled at the villager?s non-responsive attitude Valormin cleared his throat and tried again. ?Could you tell me what celebration is occurring??
Once again, the villager stared at him before pointing to another man at the docks, murmuring something incomprehensible then turning back to his work and casting a furtive glance back at Valormin.
Taking it as a sign to talk to the other local, Valormin continued on and addressed the civilian.
?It is the winter festival,? the man stated, studying Valormin carefully. ?A Zalian like you wouldn?t understand. What brings you out this far anyway??
?I am in search of a vessel,? Valormin answered, thankful for someone who responded to his speech, but somewhat unsettled at the man?s accuracy. ?I tried to talk to that dock worker, but he didn?t seem to understand.?
?Of course he didn?t understand. I?m the only local who can speak Zalian,? the man stated, his green eyes gleaming with amusement of Valormin?s ignorance. ?Most of the populace can only speak Skaranite as it is the trade