The Dark Age Chronicles: The Fall of Night.
Overed

Ihloden hoisted the last ofthe bundles of cloth onto the back of the wagon. The sturdy wheels of the wagongroaned in protest in the cold early morning air. His mother gazed a triflefearfully at their caravan. Ihloden saw her gaze and went over to her, placinga hand on her shoulder.

“It will hold mother,” he said, “It alwaysdoes.”

“I know,” his mother replied and patted hishand. She then called out to his sister a Sheila came out wearing a beautiful emeraldgreen dress. Ihloden whistled loudly. Shila blushed.

“Oh shut up,” she said as she strode past him.

“Yes, my lady,” he said with an exaggeratedbow. Shila tossed her hair and sat in the wagon seat. Ihloden grinned andjumped into the back with the bundles of clothes and they set off.

Ihloden waved to the variousones that he knew as they passed through Molvn and called out insults to theyoung men who called to his sister. Shila kept her head in front gracefully andIhloden gazed at her fondly; a better sister a boy could not ask for. A pang ofguilt hit him suddenly and he hung his head. It had been three weeks since theincident in the forest. It had been torture to hide such an important discoveryfrom his family. It had kept him miserable for days. And of course, he hadtried to drown his misery in the ale. He snorted softly to himself; like thattactic every worked. He knew he was a drunkard; but he could not help it. And withthe trees yapping in his head about the dangers of ale, it just made him wantto go and sit under a tankard and let the whole thing flow into his mouth.

The dust billowed up fromthe path and he pulled his jersey over his nose. He looked forward and saw the Krogaslooming up in the distance. The sight of the mountain range made him uneasy. ‘Supposethose Karvaahs were still in there?’ the thought made him feel sick.

“Theyare not,” the trees whispered.

“Oh yeah, how do you know?” he thought back. The silence of the trees made him feel stupid.It was well past sundown when they reached the gentle sloping base of Mrata;which was the peak where the FairRoad Pass began. Shila and his mother set upcamp while he went to hobble the horses. He patted their great necks and theynuzzled against him.

“Keep safe,” he whispered to them, “There arestrange things in the forest.” The great horses looked at him straight in theeye and nodded. Ihloden looked at them in astonishment. They had understoodhim, he was sure of it. He opened his mouth to ask a question when his mothercalled. He shook his head and went to her.

They woke early in themorning and made breakfast. Ihloden hitched the horses back to the wagon andgave them a suspicious look. But they paid him no attention. ‘I must haveimagined it’ he thought and got back in the wagon. Ihloden sighed as they setoff. They travelled around the base of Mrata for a while and then the FairRoadPass yawned before them. This was one of the five paths that led to Overed; themountain city of the Krogas. The Pass ran steeply up and disappeared into therocks. Ihloden slipped off the wagon as he usually did each time they made thistrip and strode to the front to guide the horses up the Pass. As he took holdof the reins and began to lead them up the slope, the horses pulled back.

“Oh come on, you know I amnot going to let anything happen to you,” he said soothingly. The horses lookedat him with a look that was a mixture of fear and trust. Ihloden felt a tinglerun down his spine. He was sure this time that they understood him. Heswallowed hard as the horses nodded to him and set their faces to the path.This was something he had to talk to the trees about.

There were only rocks andfaint wheel trails to see. The road was hard and dry so the dust did not billowup; Ihloden was glad for that. He would have been cleaning dust out of his earslike the last time. He smiled a grim smile at the memory. The horses tossedtheir heads. He placed a hand on their necks.

“Easy,” he said, “I know it’sdreary but we will be at the first of the Way Stations by nightfall if we don’tstop.”

He looked back at the wagon. His mother wassitting with the reins held loosely in her hands, but her eyes were ever on theroad darting this way and that, making sure that the wagon stayed true to themiddle of the road. Shila sat with her hands in her lap. Her hair was blowingslightly in the breeze. She looked so beautiful that Ihloden caught his breath.He turned away quickly. They rounded a corner and Ihloden gave a cry and pulledon the reins sharply. His mother and sister jerked forward.

“What is it Ihloden?” Shila called. Ihloden stoodshaking his head. The road was blackened and there were huge holes in thepathway. Usually one side of the road hugged the tall walls of the Mrata andthe other side ran along a gentle slope that flowed into a deep valley whichlinked the Mrata with the Sihgli Mountain. However that gentle slope was nowgone and replaced with a steep drop down; almost like a ragged cliff. Thehorses snorted and Ihloden sighed.

“I think we are going to have a rough timegetting to Overed,” he called back.

“But can you get usthrough?” his mother called. Her voice was a little desperate. This was thetime that she made enough money to get them through winter.

Ihloden set his jaw, “Yes,I’ll get us through. But I shall need your help.” He turned to the horses andwhispered softly to them, “You have to help me too. This is for your benefittoo.”

The horses neighed andtossed their board heads; he allowed himself a tense smile. He gripped thereins harder and they set down the road. At first the holes that they met wereshallow but wide. They made it through without much difficulty. But as theywent on the holes grew into pits and the going was harder despite the fact thatthe sides had been worn down into steep but smooth slopes. Ihloden gave thanksthat the WayStation Masters had at least tended somewhat to the road this faraway from the WayStation.

As the sun began to passoverhead, the slope finally curved away to the left and the slope became almoststraight. Ihloden sighed in relief; his legs were beginning to feel sore a bitafter the constant up and down of the pits. For some reason the inside of thepits where the rock was black was very hot, hotter than what would be normal. Theheat scorched his skin through his clothes and boots, whenever he stepped onthat patch of black earth.

“Alright, we’ve reached theGentle-Way of the Pass, so this will make it much easier for us,” Ihlodencalled back to his mother and Shila, “If anyone wants to stretch their legs,now would be a good time.”

His mother and Shila noddedand Shila slipped down and came to walk beside him. The road now was normal. Shenodded to him and rested her hand on his shoulder briefly and flashed him a smile.Warmth and strength coursed through him at her gesture of comfort.

“Thank Retgonea we are pastthose pits,” she said sighing and looking ahead.

“Indeed,” Ihloden said followingher gaze, “I hope there are no more surprises up the road and we will reachNefar by nightfall.”

“So do I brother,” Shilasaid then she reached and tugged the reins from his hand, “Now go and rest yourlegs, I will walk for a bit.” Ihloden let the reins go, flashed her a smile anddropped back, pulling himself up onto the caravan driver seat beside hismother. His mother ruffled his hair with one hand as he slouched beside her andpropped his legs up on the front board.

Despite his comfortablelounge unpleasant thoughts ran though his mind; could this be the work of bandits,rebels or maybe a dragon? It had been so long since a Dragon had been seen inMolvn. He swallowed hard and tried to forget the horrible stories about thethings that dragons did or worst, their Riders. But soon the task of gettingthe wagon through the holes took over his thoughts. He huffed and puffed andpushed and pulled and nearly broke his shoulders off but he got them through inthe end. His skin felt well and truly cooked. He then took back his position atthe head of the wagon and the set off again. Ihloden sighed; they had lost muchtime in getting through that road. That meant another night before they reachedOvered.

They set up camp far intothe night. And Ihloden felt as though he had just closed his eyes and hismother shook him awake. He woke up in a very bad mood. The day went alongslowly. His legs and back was aching and his head was swimming in his head. Thenas they rounded the last set of high rocks; the great mountain city burst intoview. There was something in the high battlements and the great Central Spirethat rose high over the massive walls that sent all the strength that he hadlost back into him. He straightened up and the pain left him. He took a deepbreath and walked the horses the last few steps to the gates. A shadow fellover them from the stone platforms that jutted off the walls and were held upby stone griffins. Ihloden looked up to see the great birds a gasped. Thegriffin’s faces were scratched off and huge claw marks disfigured the stone. Ihlodenbent his head to hide the tears in his eyes. Lyficen had truly claimed thisCity. The Great Gates were open and steady streams of people were flowing outthe gate. Ihloden pushed his way through the onslaught of people and into theCity.

Suddenly noise filled theair and a frown came over Ihloden’s face. In Overed he could not hear thevoices of the trees. The only thing was the deep rumbling of the earth at theback of his head. It was a small comfort, but it was better than none.Colourful tents dotted the streets and various people in magnificent hues ofcloth strode about the spotless streets. Ihloden guided the wagon down thecream stone streets and settled them in a convenient place against the walls ofthe city. His mother and sister leapt off and began to transform the wagon intoa stall. Ihloden unloaded the parcels of cloth and helped set up the tent andchange room. He then slipped the large feather out of a parcel and into ahidden pocket in his sleeve. He smiled to himself, remember the long hours,pricked fingers and silent curses that went into making that pocket. Then hetook the horses and set off to replace a stable that was not yet filled. He headeddown the massive pathways that rounded the entire city. Ihloden looked up atthe battlements of the walls. He ginned again, remembering how he had scaled thewall pat the tower guards and had seen Overed from the top. It was huge andmore magnificent than anything he could have imagined. The outer road was ahuge circle and from it the smaller roads led into the Spire walls. And beyondthe Spire walls was a huge fresg green lawn with many trees aand the Tall SpireCastle of the King of Overed. Ihloden felt the same exhilaration he felt whenhe had actually seen it and the humor of running away from the tower guards whowere bad runners due to the their armour. Suddenly a young man appeared infront of him. The horses reared up and Ihloden tried to step back, but it wastoo late. He ploughed into the young man. The fellow stumbled back and sat witha bumb on the ground. Ihloden calmed the horses and reached out a hand to theyoung man. With a snort of disgust the man hit his hand away, and leapt up. Hisface was cortorted with rage.

“Watch where you are goingnext time peasant!” he spat the words at Ihloden.

Ihloden looked at him inastonishment, “Peasant?” he said, “I am no peasant!”

The young man put on a faceof mock surprise. “Oh really?” he asked in a sarcastic tone, “What are youthen? An official?”

Ihloden felt confused, “No,” he replied.

The young man smiled a nastygrin, “Oh then you must be a guard, a stable boy at the palace, or somearistocrat?” yes?” Ihloden frowned, this boy was making fun of him.

“No,” he replied again, feeling stupid.

“Then there remains only oneconclusion,” the young man said his face turning serious and he lookedextremely evil, “you are nothing but a smelly no good, swine bred, son of a hagand are worth nothing to this land. You are a failure of mankind and I assureyou that nothing you do will ever benefit this land. Ever!”

Ihloden wanted to open hismouth and say something, but the fire that started in his chest bound histongue. He clenched his fist around the reins tightly and felt comforted tohear the leather groan in protest. The young man waited for a while but whenIhloden said nothing, he laughed. “Just as I thought,” he said, “Peasants haveno wit!”

Ihloden clenched his jaw.The young man snorted and walked away. Ihloden sighed and loosened the grip onthe reins. The horses nudged his shoulder. He smiled and patted their noses buthis heart was heavy. He started walking, but the streets seemed clouded withgrey mist and the blue skies had turned to grey. He took a deep breath andretched. His hand grasped his nose and he looked around in disgust. He hadreached the stable parts of the city. Here the cream stone of the streets werealmost black with horse waste and food scraps. Ihloden put his hand down andtried to not breathe too deeply. He moved carefully down the refuse coatedstreets. The way the place around the public stables was kept was disgraceful.The soldiers were in Lyficen’s pay. Theydid not care about what happened to the well fare of their own people. Rageblocked out the smell for a few moments. It was betrayal to forget one’sbirthplace.

Then as Ihloden’s anger wentaway, the smell returned with full force. It took all his courage to keep fromrunning to a wall and emptying his gut. He strode up to a stable and brief chatwith the stable boy, a dirty, raggedly dressed young man. The boy tookt hehorses and the gold from Ihloden’s hand and disappeared into the stables.Ihloden walked away; glad to escape the foulness of the place. He decided totake the long way back to their stall. He hadn’t seen Overed in a very longtime. With a light heart he set off. The streets were the same as heremembered, but with a few more holes. The stones were more discolored as well.Ihloden frowned, didn’t the King of Overed care about how his castle wasfaring? Surely he walks or takes a look outside of the Spire’s walls to see hiskingdom? The heaviness of his heart returned. He looked around more carefullyas he strolled the streets. And suddenly he felt the power of the Land rollover him. His vision seemed to grow brighter and the world exploded into anarray of colours. But more so the emotions. He felt things that he never feltbefore. The sadness of the air that blew in Overed, the gloom of the verystones that lay in its walls. He stopped and raised his eyes to the Spire andrichness of its red walls were gone. It stood as a dying bleached memoir of aglory past. Ihloden turned slowly around. The faces of the people were alsosad. Beneath their smiles and laughs he caught the undercurrent of emotion, adepression, a shame of defeat, the agony and wounded pride of a people that hadlost the right to their own freedom. It was overbearing. Ihloden chocked down asob, and began to cough.

That snapped him out of thetrance and he shook his head. Everything was back to normal. He swallowed hardand then a fright took him and he raced back to the stall. When he got there itwas evening and his mother ans sister were just sending some customers off.

“Ihloden,” his mother called and he waved.“Take your sister to the baths,” she said. Ihloden nodded. He came and took thebags that Shila was holding out to him and they set off. The baths of Overedwere crowded and they had to wait for a while. Finally Shila got in and Ihlodenstood outside. It was like an eternity before she came out and handed him herbag

“Were you making the water in there?” he saidher and received a light slap on the cheek.

“Owww,” he mocked pain, “what was that for?”

“I am cranky,” she replied, “and you werethere for me to take out my frustration.”

“Glad to be of service,”Ihloden said rubbing his cheek, “Now I am going to bathe.”

“Where?” Shila asked.

“The Public Bath,” he saidwith a grin.

“You are so disgusting,” Shila snorted andgrabbed her bag from him. Ihloden grinned wider and set off.