Seeing the faint silhouette of the Island of Alensha over the prow of the ship, far in the distance, Kelv the Deft felt a wave of nervous tension sweep over him. It was a long-awaited, long-dreaded sight for the young human thief. The salty, cold ocean air of the Uthlin and the slow, rhythmic rocking of the three-masted ship hadn't calmed his nerves, as he had earlier hoped. He shivered, in part from the brisk Nelennamir breeze that had carried the ship on its course the past week, and in part because of his anxiety. Lips silently moving, Kelv cursed deities of good and evil--just minor ones, to be safe--and picked at the rough pine railing of the foredeck at which he stood.
Eyes still on the remote island, he watched it slowly grow from a hazy bump on the horizon to a wide, rocky promentory with steep brown cliffs spotted green with foilage. Today, somewhere on the island, the young thief would finally face the test he had been long awaiting--the test that the three Knights who stood near the foremast would be carefully judging.
"Bravery, discipline, understanding," Kelv recalled the one of the knights, Korchanja, saying when Kelv had first approached him about sponsorship into the Knighthood of Enaerai. "Demonstrate these qualities, and I'll be the sponsor you seek. But... fail in showing these things, and I'll take back my time you'll have wasted--I'll take it from your hide, lad." Not exactly comforting words from the wolf-like kankoran, a veteran swordmaster who had nearly as much scar tissue as fur.
Bravery--Kelv had ample opportunity to show his on the journey from Var Bandor to Earendam. Once set upon by a hungry sand drake, once by a pack of dverins, twice by bandits on the plains: he had served his guildmaster well, showing how the daggers he wore in his belt (and boots, tunic, and sleeves) were capable of much more than cutting up vegetables and peeling potatoes, which tasks were relegated to him by the Knights as they traveled. Kelv had almost sliced Korchanja during the battle with the dverins--Kelv had leaped into the center of the burrowing, carnivorous creatures that had dug up right into their camp--sprung into the middle of the pack, and circlestabbed like a madman, devastating them from behind. Korchanja had given him an annoyed look, as he was forced to dodge the young thief's whirling blades. But Kelv had seen something of respect in the look as well.
So much for bravery--but how he would demonstrate his understanding and discipline to the Knights, he was not yet sure.
The sailors began scurrying about the deck, adjusting the sails as the ship slowly drew nearer to the island. The ship then swung from its northeastern course to head straight east, running parallel to the coast. In the course of an hour, the cliffs and rocky formations gradually flattened out into verdant forested hills. Kelv felt himself shivering again from the brisk sea breeze, and drew his thick wool cloak close about his short, lean frame, as the ship rounded the last of the diminishing cliffs. The ship eased into a wide portside turn, entering the mouth of a sky-blue harbor, and Kelv had his first view of the towers, spires, and broad buildings of the port city of Jh'ten.
"See, up on the eastern side, the tower," called out Falandil, breath steaming in the chill air, as the three Knights approached Kelv and also looked out across the harbor towards the city. Falandil was a veteran fire templar, his short ethron height more than made up for by the reach of his flaming spells and blades. He pointed a green finger to the highest tower of the city, and Kelv nodded.
"The tower of Shelratha, the heart of the ch'taren city. Closed to all but ch'taren, and supposedly holding secrets aplenty. Or perhaps not, as you'll be telling us, Kelv," Falandil said in a cheerful voice, smiling slightly at Kelv and his obvious discomfort.
"What are the strange lines in the tower wall?" inquired Kelv, ignoring the templar's reference to his upcoming test. Kelv had noticed a strange irregular pattern of golden lines, like veins set into smooth white stone of the tower. They were also in a handful of other towers and spires rising up from the city. "Surely they aren't cracks?"
"No, that is ch'lonin," replied Korchanja in his gruff kankoran voice. "Ch'lonin is very rare, practically never seen outside Jh'ten. It is a metal that the ch'taren brought with them on their journey from their spirit home-world to Avendar."
"Not a metal, exactly," said Falandil.
"Well, like a metal!" growled Korchanja. "I'm no alchemist, to bicker about properties of elements. I do know, though..." he glanced at Falandil, his upper lip drawing back in what seemed like a forced grin, to reveal long canine teeth, "...that ch'lonin is hard and strong as steel, but translucent like glass, with a golden tint."
Kelv had noticed a less-than-subtle rivalry between Falandil and Korchanja throughout their journey. Korchanja seemed determined to take the leadership role in the journey, even though he and Falandil held equal rank in the Knight order. He tried to lead in decision-making, battle, even conversation--and Falandil purposefully and cheerfully stubbed him whenever possible.
Falandil said, "I heard that the first ch'tarens to cross from their home-world to Avendar had pure ch'lonin weapons and armor, but that it is so rare now that they have to blend it with the elements here to extend its use."
"Properties of magic, it has, as well," said the third Knight, a quiet caladaran earth scholar who stood a head taller than Korchanja. The caladaran was a low-ranking Knight Initiate, not often separated from Falandil as Falandil served as his mentor. He also went only by the nickname "Dust". At least, Kelv had never heard him speak of his true name during their two-week journey to the Island. When he had asked the other Knights, they had only laughed and said that "Dust" was short for "Damned Dust Cloud".
"Strengthens the stone, it does, and protection provides against magic of the void," continued Dust, his contemplative gaze fixed on the tower and harbor city below it. Though Falandil had been on the Island before, this was the first visit for Dust and Korchanja.
"It'll do the same in steel. When I was a lad, I saw an ch'taren spiritlord with a ch'lonin-streaked blade," added Korchanja. "By the Lady, that was a sword to re.."
"Out of the road! Got to tie a line down there!" a large brute of a sailor shouted, motioning for them to step back from the railing. Korchanja snarled, and gave the swarthy sailor a hard look, but the small group did as the sailor requested. They were almost used to the poor treatment, as all of the sailors had been irate, almost hostile towards the group during the voyage. The ship's captain had ties with the Knighthood, and had chartered the voyage specially for the Knights, the timing of which forced the crew to miss out on Earendam's Day of Quickening fertility rites. The Knights had not improved in popularity when a crewmember overheard Falandil joking about the unexpected good fortune of the Earendam women.
"Here we are. Gather your gear, and we'll go set up at an inn," ordered Korchanja, after the ship gently eased near to the side of a broad, sturdy-looking dock. The gangplank was lowered by several grouchy sailors.
"Yes, lets go. I've nearly frozen my arse off on this tub. First order of business: find an inn with seats near a warm fire!" said Falandil, with a bemused look at Korchanja, who was frowning.
While the talk hadn't eased Kelv's nerves, it had at least taken his mind for a moment off the upcoming test. He went to the passenger cabin and gathered up his few belongings. After shouldering his pack, he made his way with the Knights off the ship and through the dockyard towards the city. Feeling stiff and tense with nervousness, Kelv followed behind the knights like a pale, brown-haired specter as they passed through the cobbled streets.
The streets were teeming with translucent ch'taren residents, foreign traders with their retinues of porters and slaves, and merchants bickering over prices for their wares with shoppers. Even though many foreigners walked the streets, the fully-armored Korchanja and his companions drew many stares. Kelv even heard a few "Look, Knights of Enaerai!" whispers, and imagined that the triangled eye symbol emblazoned on the Knights' armor and gear must be a rare sight on the island.
To help take his mind off the task he would soon face, he watched the bustling crowd around him, and thought back on his fellow thief and best friend, Mirjan. It was Mirjan who had convinced him to attempt to join the Knights. They had first met at the school of heroes in Var Bandor, and though Mirjan was several ranks above Kelv, and had graduated earlier, they found much in common besides their human race and membership in the thieves guild. They had traveled together through the Brintor Mountains, and in Var Bandor profitably practiced their thievery for almost a year, avoiding the guardians and occasionally making short journeys with other adventurers, until Mirjan left the city to visit his hometown in Nendor.
When Mirjan returned a month later, he was bursting with enthusiasm to tell Kelv about the order of knights that he had joined, and in a short time had convinced Kelv to join as well. So, Kelv had approached several Knights--the three that he currently followed--and when they asked what he wished to do to show his worth, the first thing that came to mind was to accomplish some great heroic act. Something related to good or evil, as that was the clearest-cut part of the Knight philosophy--and Kelv had no wish to blunder by misunderstanding any of the finer points of their beliefs. Something, perhaps, involving shuddeni or ch'taren. Raiding Yithoul didn't sound very safe--Kelv had heard too much about the shuddeni torture techniques and the terrible, tentacled yaril guardians of the city--so Kelv had pledged to use his rogue skills to uncover secrets of the mysterious tower of Shelratha, the hold of ch'taren spiritlords in Jh'ten.
Kelv was sure they'd refuse--but the Knights had seemed more amused than anything. He thought they'd ask him to do something else, something that wouldn't require such a long journey. Something less difficult. But to his surprise, Korchanja had taken him up on the offer, and Falandil and Dust said they also wanted to visit the island. Kelv was certain that they all believed he had bitten off much more than he could chew, and were laughing at him behind his back. The more he thought about it, the more resolute he became to prove that he coud do it--even if he secretly, subconsciously knew he was attempting a proven hero's task. And he was no hero.
The walk through the crowds ended at last at the white double doors of a large inn in the heart of the city. The Trader's Blessing was a comfortable three story structure, with an innkeeper who insisted taking less than the fair amount Korchanja offered for their keep. Falandil, true to his word, made a beeline to the broad hearth as Korchanja haggled the price of lodging with the protesting ch'taren inkeeper. Kelv followed after Falandil and Dust, and then sat down wearily on a green-painted stool.
Falandil crouched at the side of the hearth, removed a tanned hide glove, and began stoking the small fire with his bare hand, incanting a spell. Immediately the few small flames in the hearth burst into a large, radiant fire. He then leaned back, a look of immense satisfaction on his face, and glanced at Kelv as he replaced the glove.
"No worries, Kelv. It'll be a breeze," he said, with a fraction of a wink.
Kelv sighed.
