Chronicles of Fardel: The Rise of Syphon

"Well we managed it, he's in the castle. Now what? We can't even get close to him to see how he's doing. He's surrounded by wraiths and Kelpon's influence. We've sent him to his death." Phex said Standing outside looking at over fifty wraiths.

"If it was his death it wouldn't have been ordered. Have faith, remember faith often looks like foolishness." Cipher replied.

"Sometimes it is foolishness, how can he withstand all the evil influence? Bad company corrupts good character."

"I don't know. But what I do know is I have faith in Elohiym. Faith in Elohiym is never foolishness, even if it looks like it."

"Yeah, and he does have faith in Elohiym too. Hopefully he has enough."

"Our next assignment is in Farmell. His young friend Effen needs coached in the right direction."

"Effen? What about Ember; he loved her so."

"Not the job I was given, can't say. But I know this Elohiym is good; and He will give back to our young friend. He is with him even if we aren't. Have faith." Cipher patted him on the shoulder and flew toward Farmell.

"I hate it when he's right." Phex grumbled and followed him.

Kephiyr woke and reached to grab his pipe, falling out of bed in the process.

"Oh yeah I forgot." He laughed to himself. "Well what do I do now?"

"You get your lazy butt out of bed, take breakfast to the inmates in the dungeon." Kelpon snapped

"What no smoke or coffee?"

"Had you got up sooner it would've worked."

"Very well." He yawned and a servant escorted him to his post. Most of the inmates were extremely rude. But considering their living conditions one could hardly blame then. Many of them hadn't seen anything but their cell in ages, some were talking to themselves. No light, no other people unless they had cell mates and horrible food.

Only one inmate was quite polite, Kephiyr heard him before he saw him. He was singing a tune in another language. He couldn't understand the words but it lifted his spirits.

"This is the last one, you have to feed him yourself. I'm going to my other duties. Don't engage in conversation with him." The servant said and walked off.

"Geeze, people around here are so rude. Well he seems nice and God knows I could've been here."

Kephiyr walked in to see a tall man who was very skinny and hairy. He was roughly six foot five with long matted hair and a tangled beard. He was maybe a hundred and fifty pounds but that was pushing it. He was chained hands and feet to the wall.

"Ah a new friendly face, come to feed me my breakfast." The man said.

"Yes sir, I was a little late today I'm sorry."

"Sir? And full sentences, usually they just come in and stuff food in my mouth."

"How long have you been chained like this?" He asked bringing some food to his mouth.

"Mmm, search me; the only way I can tell time is by the food they bring me." The man laughed.

"You seem really nice, why are you chained like this?"

"Because of what they think I did. They think I murdered my family. I'm innocent, but have no way to prove it."

"That's sad, this whole place is sad. I thought the castle would be happier, but everyone is mean and doesn't care. And the atmosphere here is so negative. I literally found more cheer in a graveyard."

"You can find cheer anywhere in any circumstance. Just remember He has a plan, find the niche Elohiym has for you. Mine is music."

"You know Elohiym?" Kephiyr exclaimed and the man smiled warmly.

"He is my song, if not for Him I couldn't sing. He keeps me. I may be pressed, but I'm not crushed. I may be persecuted, but I'm not abandoned. Any time you need cheering young one, come to me. My ear is open and I think I can give advice."

"What is your name, perhaps eventually I can get you out."

"If He is willing, my name is Mastus. Just don't get yourself in trouble on my account young one."

"I won't, I need to get some influence around here."

"I know, may I ask your name young one?"

"Yes, my name is Kephiyr."

"Really, do you know the significance of that name?"

"No, my name used to be Syphon, it was changed yesterday to Kephiyr. I saved the price from goblins."

"And you're feeding me?" The man laughed.

"The name Kephiyr has it's origins with the first king of Zolon after the last trial of fire."

"Trial of fire?" Kephiyr asked questioning.

"According to legend happens roughly every four thousand years, not to the exact day but roughly. The last one was a little over four thousand years ago. Evil beasts wreck the land and if they prevail life ends. If not peace for a time until the next. Kephiyr is an elven word meaning lion as well, the king of beasts."

"Is the trial of fire really real, I've never heard of it before."

"That's the legend sonny, could be real could be a fairytale. How should I know?"

"Well I should get going I have training as well. See you at lunch and dinner."

Kephiyr walked out to the training grounds expecting to start right away. He was met by two boys about his age named Abah and Abeh. They were brothers, sons of Tolin the jarl of Zolon.

"So you're the one who saved the prince, don't look like much to me." Abah said. He was a tall strapping young lady roughly five foot eight with short black hair and the makings of a goatee. He had tan skin and silver eyes. He was handsome young man, and obviously knew it.

His brother Abeh was three inches shorter and had blonde hair and green eyes and a gap in his teeth. He was certainly nicer though.

"Leave him alone Abah, he hasn't even been trained yet it wouldn't be fair."

"So what's first around here?" Kephiyr asked.

"First we have two hours of physical training. Then a hour of sword training followed by lunch. Then we have hour of training with various weapons and then an hour of archery. The final hour is all about strategy and war tactics." Abah answered

"Alright 'ats enough talkin yougins!" Yelled an older man and the two brothers immediately stood at attention. A rather old skinchanger walked eyeing them. He was missing an eye and his left hand. He had long blonde hair and a braided blonde beard.

"Time fo' some brokin knuckles, an bruises everywhere else." He threw a box of wooden swords at them and yelled defend. The two boys immediately grabbed their wooden swords and each blocked a hit. Kephiyr who hadn't expected it to go like that got jabbed right in the gut hard and fell.

"You're dead new blood." Abah laughed.

"I wasn't ready!"

"Ah, and ye thinkin the enemies goin ta wait for ye?" The old man said.

Kephiyr grabbed a sword and all four squared off. He blocked a blow from their teacher and Abeh. Abah caught him across the knuckles with his sword. Kephiyr immediately dropped his sword and was hit hard square in the head.

"Wrong!" The man yelled and smacked him in the face. "Never drop yer sword, it is yer only defense. Pick it back up!"

"He hit my knuckles."

"Then switch hands if yer must." He tapped his stump. "Better to loose yer hand then yer life."

"He's training us to be warriors, did you think it was going to be easy?" Abah laughed.

By the time training had ended Kephiyr was battered and bruised, but much wiser. He made a delicious lunch of bite-sized venison and fried potatoes and took it to the inmates. They much welcomed the change, especially Mastus who seemed like it was heaven on earth.

"Well you look battered boy." Mastus exclaimed. "Hope it's not on my account."

"No, training; it's pretty brutal but I'm learning."

"Good hope it's going well."

"It is, I finally knocked one down close to the end. I bet I'm a pretty good shot with a bow too. Darts was afterall my specialty."

"Pulling an arrow ain't exactly the same as throwing darts. And be more on guard tomorrow, you'll be less bruised."

"I will that's for sure. After lunch I got more training and then strategy and war tactics."

"Now there's where you really wanna pay close attention. And a little hint, numbers and weapons don't win a battle. They certainly help but history proves that in the long run the best strategy usually comes out on top."

"And what if the best strategy at the moment is to run?" Kephiyr laughed.

"Sometimes a tactical retreat is the best strategy. He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day. But retreat is not defeat. You may loose the battle but with the right strategy you'll win the war."

"So you're saying physical training is not as important?"

"No, to train your body is just as important. But really apply yourself to the strategy part of it. Muscle carves the path, but your brain should lead the way."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Over the next several years Kephiyr became a skilled warrior. His specialty was swordplay and as far as strategy few matched him. Mastus and him became good friends and eventually Mastus got out of prison. Mastus attempted to teach him human magic. However, Kephiyr was never able to get the art of potion making down. Fifteen years have passed since Kephiyr first came to the castle. Kephiyr is now twenty eight and has a black beard and shoulder length black hair. Abah and Abeh also became close friends with him over the years.

"You have failed over and over to eliminate Kephiyr." Kaz growled at Diabolos. Kaz was the king of the wraiths. He looked the same as the other wraiths except he had a crown of horns.

"In my defense even you had no idea who he was until recently and all I've had to work with was goblins and men." Diabolos cringed as the words escaped his lips, he knew it was a mistake.

"You have repeatedly left your post! Chasing sentinels or doing your own desire! Leaving the people you're supposed to empower and manipulate! I was sure we could corrupt him, but rather the opposite has happened. I want you to form an attack with a horde of orcs. If you fail you'll wish I exiled you."

"Understood sire, what do I have to work with?"

"Kuzog an orc leader is performing a blood summons. I am sending you to redeem yourself."

"But sire! A blood summons; I would cross planes! Death would mean judgement not simple banishment and regeneration!"

"Indeed, is there a problem?"

"I prefer to cross planes with our entire army, not just incompetent orcs."

"You're good at telling me what I already know! Get going or you will be in more pain than you can bear! And don't worry I'll be sure not to banish you, you'll be around and awake for all of it!"

"Yes your majesty." Diabolos immediately flew south towards the Sannah Grounds to answer the call. On the plus side he would be in charge for once. Even if that was because he'd be the only one they could communicate directly with.

As he entered the Sannah Grounds he looked unsure at his prospects. The Sannah Grounds were just above the White Desert, in which a few space desert trees grew. It was a very rocky land and several dark holes dotted the landscape. To the north he could see the outskirts of the Mira Forest. Thousands of tents were seemingly randomly scattered here and there and one large tent caught his eye. He entered it and seen the tortured elf. The elf had been tortured in a blood ritual intended to bring a wraith to the physical realm.

Five large orcs surrounded the elf who was clinging to life. The elf looked like a piece stripped meat. The orcs chanted in the black tongue while touching palm to palm; at intervals stripping more of his flesh, much like you might skin a potato. They collected his blood in a black chalice known as the blood chalice. Which looked like a big silver spiked goblet that had been burned.

Suddenly the goblet floated in the air and the blood began to disappear. He relished the taste of tortured elf blood and he was suddenly physical.

Now his skin was ivory white and crooked yellow fangs curved above his black lips. His blood red eyes darted from one orc to another who just gasped at him. He glanced down at the elf who was a bloody mess, to the point you could see most of his bones.

Diabolos took his cursed blade and stabbed him the heart to complete the ritual. He breathed deeply savoring the kill as a pleasure.

"It feels good to be physical again, I trust you have a worthy army."