Fable Quest - Chapter One - Part One

Chapter 1Part 1- Finder of Weary Travellers

Half a millennia ago, in the now fallen kingdom of Salkeeah, a dark lord simply know as El commanded his legions, marching them across all the land, conquering all in their way. King Dracsamis the Fourth would not surrender his kingdom, and marched his armies to meet this growing threat. If he only knew the massacre his men walked towards.
The king’s forces were obliterated by the strange and alien weapons of this black force. Infernal javelins that flew far higher than man’s reach, engulfing those it struck in flame. Dark black dragons that carried fell warriors in their bellies, releasing them down to the field to fight with dark weapons that pierced the thickest of armour. Waves of knights cut down by lone siege weapons, outlandish ballistae that loosed many thousands of molten shards. Worst of all, when the black legions reached the walls of Rinshor, where the last remnants of the king’s force made its final stand, the thing that struck the greatest fear in the hearts of those men was not the javelins of flame, not the great black dragons, not indeed any of the hellish armaments arrayed against them. It was one lone general, not some lieutenant but the commander of the entire force, the right hand of the dark lord….Commander Sekai.
A formidable swordswoman, seemingly without drawing her blade she could cut men to ribbons, so fast was her hand. Her power could level castle walls with a single precision strike. Two hundred of the kings finest warriors fell beneath her blade, slain without remorse or emotion. Her cold gaze sent tremors through he core of any man. Survivors of her onslaught say that her eyes remind them of the eyes of a fish; cold and lifeless, un-dead.
In less than a day, king and kingdom fell to this dark army, it’s remaining forces either stood and died, or fled and hid. The legions of El continued on their campaign, spreading quickly across all the known lands like a black plague, pushing forth towards their true objectives, the Twelve Great Kingdoms.

* * *

The disgraced Salkeeahn knights who fled their king vowed to fight back at El’s forces with all their strength, to give aid to all the fallen lands who gave way before his dark might. They vowed to avenge their fallen comrades, their king, and their countrymen, and to restore their lost honour. Thus was born the resistance, a small but determined army, who after hundreds of years of fighting remain strong in the face of insurmountable odds.
One method by which the rebels stayed alive this long was to know when to fight, and when to retreat. They found that survival was of far greater importance than victory, and so they sought safety in the deepest woods, amidst the tallest mountains, even the occupied cities of El’s Imperial forces, any areas of strategic value from which guerrilla strikes could be made from relative concealment. If they stay too long in any one place, discovery is almost inevitable. There are however, some rebel strongholds which exist as beacons of sanctuary for those on the run from El’s dark forces, bases which remain undiscovered after over a hundred years.
One such stronghold, located in the cave systems of the land of Delrise, is where our story begins. Here, among both refugees and rebels, is where we meet Gelius of Norin. A young rebel, of twenty one winters, no high ranking officer of the rebel forces, but well known member of the resistance, and a much sought after enemy of El’s forces.
Gelius sat with his back against the cave wall, waiting for a friend. Next to him was a staircase, curving down to a sealed room in which his friend worked. Around him, up and down the length of the tunnel, rebels shifted supplies, slowed in their progress by children running and chasing through he caves. Those men not working drank deeply and talked loudly amongst themselves, whilst the women cared for the many infants, talking of their husbands in their own groups.
Growing impatient, Gelius called out to a nearby worker-
“Hey friend! You with the box.”
“Eh? Me?” the man replied.
“Yeah, do you know how much longer he’s gonna be?” called Gelius, motioning towards the staircase.
“Onaaran? He hasn’t been out of his study in nearly three weeks. He got some kind of special package form the wizards guild a while back, he’s been working on it round the clock. Doesn’t even come up for food. We take food down to him once in a while; he takes it and shuts the door. No ‘Hi’, no ‘good morning’, nothing.”
“Thanks friend” replied Gelius.
What could he be doing down there? I know he likes to work long hours when he’s got a new project, but it’s not like him to shut himself in like that. Whatever it is must be really big for him to take this much time. I’ll wait just a bit longer to see if he comes out.
Before Gelius could sit back down, the tunnel shook with a deep rumbling. Silence swept through the tunnel as people stopped to listen, a silence soon to be broken by the echoes of an alarm bell. It was then clear that something was wrong, and everybody’s worst fears were realized as rebel soldiers ran through the tunnels, calling out “Imperialists!” to all who could hear. Panic began to spread through the tunnels as rebels rushed to their stations and refugees grabbed their belongings and searched for family and friends.
Gelius, unfamiliar with the caves, searched for someone who could tell him what to do. He soon found three rebel soldiers directing refugees.
“Listen to me, I need you all to follow this tunnel down in that direction. Do not turn off it, just keep following the tunnel. You’ll come to two large wooden doors; someone there will tell you what to do. For now just follow the tunnel!”
“We need you to leave all your belongings where they are. If you must take something, keep it to one item, everything else must stay where it is.”
“If there’s anyone who can fight, head up in the opposite direction! You’ll be handed weapons and told what to do. Please, we need as many people as possible!”
Gelius rushed over to the three men to see if he could help.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“It’s the Imperialists, they found the caves” replied one of the soldiers, “their cannon fire is concentrated on the main entrance and they have troops moving up the mountainside towards us. We’ll hold them off as long as we can…. but it won’t be long.”
“Where are the refugees going?” asked Gelius, “I’ll try and help them get to a safe place.”
He looked at the rebel, waiting for a reply, but instead got bleak, mournful expression. At length, the rebel replied.
“We’re sending them down to the great hall to hide. We’ll have to close the doors and have them locked from the inside. Hopefully that’ll buy them some time, the only way out is to be attacked from all sides.”
The blood drained from Gelius face as a sense of dread came over him.

My God. All those people. They’re all going to die. There must be another way out. Come on, think! Another way. If only there was some kind of….

“That’s it!” cried Gelius out loud.
“What it?” inquired the rebel.
“Listen, I’ve got an idea. Just keep everyone going down to the hall, I’ll meet them down there.”

Turning on his heels, Gelius ran back to the staircase leading down to Onaaran’s study. He descended as fast as he could, skipping every second step. Reaching the door, Gelius began to hammer on it with his fists.
“Onaaran! Open the door!”
The door swung open at speed, and a hand sped out to grab Gelius round the collar, pulling him inside. Onaaran slammed the door shut behind him.
“Gelius!” cried Onaaran in surprise. “By the gods it’s good to see a friendly face!”
“It’s good to see you too, but we need to go! Imperialists are attacking the caves!”
“Imperialists?” asked Onaaran, “Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure!” replied Gelius hurriedly.
“Then they know” muttered Onaaran to himself.
“What’d you say?” asked Gelius. “Never mind, listen, everyone is trapped down in the bottom of the caves, you need to get you’re things together for a portal or transportation spell! I’ll head upstairs and see what’s happening, I’ll meet you down in the great hall.”
“We’re not going to the hall.”
“But you have to!” exclaimed Gelius “everyone is trapped down there! We need you to get them out!”
“Gelius, listen to me, the first thing I tried when I heard that alarm bell going, was to make a portal away from here. My spell wouldn’t work, which leads me to believe that the Imperialists have placed some kind of nullification spell over this entire mountain.”
“But the only one in the Imperial army who could cast a spell like that….oh shit.” swore Gelius, realizing who was leading the enemy attack. “Draco’s here?! Why would one of the five great generals be leading an assault against a small safe house like this? We don’t have many weapons, none of our leaders are here. How did they even find this place to begin with?”
“This entire cave system used to hide soldiers before battles” replied Onaaran, “anyone living in the region would know of it.”
“Well what are we going to do?” asked Gelius.
“To answer your question as to why Draco is here, he’s here because of these” said Onaaran, holding out a handful of gems.
“What are they” asked Gelius, knowing full well that were not simply gems.
Just then, footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Not knowing if it was friend or foe, Onaaran raised his hand and locked the door with his magic. This was a wise move, because the next thing they heard was a man beating on the door with his fists, shouting out, “in the name of the Emperor you shall open this door now!”
Onaaran turned and grabbed a satchel he had filled up with scrolls.
“There’s no time to explain” he bellowed, “take these, they’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“Onaaran, I don’t think now is the time for you to be giving me a bag to carry” said Gelius, turning towards the door and unsheathing his sword ready to fight. “Besides we’re trapped in here.”
Suddenly a white light filled the room. Gelius turned to see what it was. He saw that Onaaran had somehow opened a portal on the other side of the room. Confused, Gelius asked: “I thought you couldn’t open a portal!”
“This is not a normal portal spell” explained Onaaran.
Behind them they could here the door being repeatedly battered as the soldiers tried to break it down.
“There’s no more time!” exclaimed Onaaran, “ Gelius, you need to take these scrolls and go!”
“Wait, I don’t understand what’s going on!” cried Gelius.
“There’s no time! Just guard the gems with you life!” shouted Onaaran.
“What about you?!”
“I need to stay behind and close up the portal!”
“No! I’m not leaving without you” argued Gelius.
“Yes you ARE” bellowed Onaaran, forcing Gelius into portal.
“No!” cried Gelius, his voice trailing to distant echo the portal enveloped him.
The lock of the door began to buckle. Onaaran rushed to close the portal before the soldiers broke through. The instant he closed the portal the door burst open. As Onaaran span round, a metallic clink preceded a blinding flash. A ringing overtook Onaaran’s ears, completely disorientating Onaaran. He stumbled back against his desk, gripping it for balance, straining to see in front of him. As his hearing and sight slowly started to return, he began to make out the enemy soldiers staring him down from the other side of the room, barking orders at him.
“Get down to the ground, hands behind your head!”
“Keep your hands where we can see them!”
“Don’t move, don’t move!”
With his staff out of reach, and knowing they would drop him before he could get off an incantation, Onaaran regrettably obeyed. He dropped to his knees and placed his hands behind his head. Two of the soldiers approached him, grabbing his arms and forcing him to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back.
“Don’t struggle” one of the soldiers ordered Onaaran, whilst the other handcuffed him. As they lifted him back to his feet, still holding on to him, more footsteps could be heard, slowly and purposefully descending the staircase. Onaaran began to sense a great energy approaching. All too familiar. As the footsteps grew louder, ancient runes adorning the walls of his study began to illuminate, smoke rising from their eldritch forms. As an dark form filled the doorway, the runes burst into flames, filling the air with the smell of sulphur. The rock into which the runes were inscribed began to drip as the intense heat turned it molten.
The dark form was none other than Draco, the great demon sorcerer of the Empire, one of the five great generals. Unlike many demons, Draco had the body of a man, crowned with the majestic head of a red dragon. His arms and legs bore very little armour, instead bearing fine cloth garments with intricately woven patterns of Asian appearance. A full breastplate was the only real piece of armour he had. He wore vertically striped trousers in an array of pale colours, the ends of which were stuffed into dark leather boots, giving them a baggier appearance. A red cloak with a patterned black border was draped around his shoulders.
“Hello Onaaran” smiled Draco coldly, “long time no see.”
“Not long enough” replied Onaaran with a grimace, while the guards held him in place.
Draco stepped towards Onaaran, eyeing him from head to toe.
“You’ve grown….old. How long has it been?” asked Draco.
“Nearly 30 winters” replied Onaaran.
“It always fascinates me, the frailty of mortal flesh” mused Draco.
“I’m glad you’re amused” retorted Onaaran.
“Oh I am….but not as amused as I am with this study of yours” replied Draco in a sarcastic tone, as he sauntered slowly around Onaaran. He noticed the charred, smouldering runes.
“Would these ashen engravings….or runes upon closer inspection, have anything to do with the demon barrier I sensed when I entered here?” He asked. “They probably would have been quite effective against a run of the mill demon. I seem to be a little to advanced for it.”
“Did you come here to bore me with your knowledge of the black arts? Stop wasting my time and get to the point.”
Draco glanced at Onaaran with a sinister eye.
“That’s the problem with your race, you always want to get straight to the point. You are in no position to talk down to me. You are no longer the great Onaaran, head sorcerer of the wizard’s guild of Rodireaf. You are a mere sage now. Nothing more. But I will grant your request. Where are the Gems of Katolise?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” replied Onaaran.
Before Draco could respond, an imperial soldier came down the stairs, stood to attention and saluted Draco.
“Sir, Alpha team just radioed in” said the soldier, “all rebels have been killed or accounted for. The cave system is secure. Beta team also called in, they found a stolen arms shipment as well as a hall full of refugees. A few of them tried to fight but they were gunned down. Your orders sir?”
“Where is our nearest prison city?” asked Draco.
“That’ll be the city of Belraith sir” replied the soldier.
“Radio in an airlift to transport the captured refugees.” ordered Draco, “We’ll transport the surviving rebels.”
The soldier called in the order. “Yes sir….this is the twenty first tank division L-G5, requesting an airlift for prison transport to the city of Belraith.”
“What are you going to do with rebels?” asked Onaaran.
“Do you even need to ask?” replied Draco, “They’ll be sent to Vice Cardinal Lilith for interrogation. You should be more worried about yourself right now. I’ll ask you one more time. Where are the gems?”
“The Gems of Katolise are archaic magic artefacts. To my knowledge no one has ever even tried casting spells that old. They’re far too dangerous.”
“So you’re saying that the messenger who said he delivered them to you from the disbanded wizard’s guild, whom I interrogated myself, lied to me?”
Onaaran face remained stoic as Draco stared him straight in the eye. Draco turned to one of his soldiers.
“Bring down the messenger.”
The soldier called in on his headset to bring the messenger down.
Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Instead of the messenger, a soldier came in carrying a small chest. Draco then moved toward the chest, opened it, a lifted the head of the messenger from within.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so merciful on him….do you agree?” said Draco.
Onaaran looked on in horror. He remembered the messenger well. He was a young apprentice sorcerer from the wizard’s guild. He was such a youthful lad. But now, looking upon his disfigured and bloodied head, half of which was burnt off, he barely recognized the young boy he had known not too long ago.
Draco then asked “Are you sure you’ve never met this boy?”
“No” Onaaran replied, holding back his disgust.
“Well let’s hear it from his point of view shall we?” said Draco.
Draco raised his left hand in front of the messengers face, a blue energy orb slowly beginning to appear in it’s palm. The energy started to flow into the eyes and mouth.
“Stop it!” shouted Onaaran, as he tried to leap towards Draco, but he was held back by guards, who maintained a tight grip on him.
As the orb disappeared and the last of the dark energy flowed into the head, the messenger gasped for air as he came back to life.
“You know it’s amazing, they gasp for air even though they have no lungs. Don’t you find that interesting?” said Draco.
“You have desecrated the body and performed one of the most heinous of all dark magical acts!” Onaaran shouted angrily.
“I know….it’s fun isn’t it?” replied Draco. Draco then turned to the messengers head.
“Now boy, is this the man you delivered the package to?”
The messenger strained himself, gathering the strength to reply, and with a weak, wheezing voice said:
“Yes….he….is”
Draco then turned to Onaaran.
“Now you know as well as I do, in this state and with this spell he cannot lie to me. So do not try my patience any more by lying to me.” The head then mumbled something to Draco.
“I’m sorry, say that again.” Draco asked the messenger.
“Please….kill….me.”
“My dear boy, that would be redundant.” Draco then dropped the head back into the chest and closed it, gesturing to a guard to take it away.
“You’re a monster.” Onaaran said to Draco.
“Actually, I’m a demon. A very powerful demon in fact, who has other ways of getting information out of you. I already know that the only way you could have gotten those gems out of this cave is by using an inter-dimensional gateway, and there are countless millions of dimensions you could have sent them to. Narrowing them down would take an awful long time.” Draco then signalled to the guards holding Onaaran. The guards then held Onaaran in a position he could not get out of, whilst one of them grabbed Onaaran’s grey, tangled hair, pulling his head back. Draco then removed his cloak and gave it to one of the other soldiers to hold. As he walked over to Onaaran, he asked: “Have you ever heard of third sight Onaaran?”
Onaaran stayed silent as the guards held him in an awkward position, still pulling on his hair.
“It’s an ability only powerful demons know how to wield. It allows me to look into the darkest regions of your mind, revealing whatever secrets you may have held from me. In doing so however, so will see the dark abyss of a demon’s soul, enough to drive any man insane.”
Draco then stood over Onaaran.
“This is your last chance to tell me what I need to know.”
Onaaran, in defiance, tried to stare Draco down, preparing himself for what was about to happen.
“Well then….lets get started shall we?” Draco said, bending over to perform the third sight.
Draco held Onaaran’s head, staring straight into his eyes.






This is my first attempt at creating a story and it was hard because when I usually work on a story I picture it in comic book style. It was kind of hard to describe images into a written words. So I am going to take this moment to explain two things. One yes the imperial soldiers are not normal, they are kitted from head to toe in full Kevlar body armour in a S.W.A.T. gear style uniform, gas masks, army helmets the whole shebang and automatic rifles. Think lord of the rings if it was invaded by clone troopers from star wars. Two Draco is a demon but I want him to stay away from the stereotype. No wings, no tail and no satyrs legs, That will hopefully be more explained in the second part. Please email me with any tips or comments you may have also inform me if you have you have heard a story like this before cos I don’t like inadvertently copying other peoples work. J.