Caleb's Journey

By Daniel Pagac

An ancient artifact, Uua's Tear, has been stolen and has fallen into the sinister clutches of the Lord of the Undead, Xerax. Acquired for him by his heartless henchman, Nostarius, the dread vampire, Xerax must unlock its secrets to achieve his end of enslaving all of mankind.

Upon returning to his homeland after years of exile, Caleb Hart is thrust into the middle of a group of adventurers and the knights of the Honor Guard, charged by the Light King, Victor IV with retrieving the invaluable and powerful magic item that contains a tiny drop of the divine essence of the world's deity, Uua.
In the meantime Xerax, who it is said cannot be harmed by any weapon or spell, has raised an army of undead legions and has joined forces with the armies of the ogres and gnolls. Together they are marching upon the human stronghold, Attalis. Will Caleb and his companions recover Uua's Tear and stop Xerax before it is too late to save the world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Pagac
• Release date: Nov 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310646300

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Departure

Standing atop a cliff on White Peak Mountain, Caleb Hart surveyed Cadre Island for the last time. The soft morning wind blew over his heavily-muscled body whilst he peered over the forest and the sea. As the gentle breeze passed over him, he closed his eyes and basked in the cool air, the sensation subtly raising the hairs on his body. Opening his brown eyes, he reflected upon the serenity of his surroundings; the white sun rising, casting its bright warm rays across the reflective dew that rested on the tips of the pine tree needles making them glisten in the sunlight. Birds, hidden from the eye, but known to the ear, sang their peaceful morning song, which carried over the stillness of the forest. It seemed to hearken to the slumbering denizens to awaken to a quiet and friendly morning. I’ll miss this, but getting home is more important, he thought. Somehow, as is common behavior among many people, his knowledge that he must depart produced a more acute awareness of the beauty around him and he lamented that he had not always appreciated such lush surroundings to a fuller extent. Still, he remained resolute in his course of action.

In pursuit of that design, Caleb descended the mountain. As his hard-soled brown leather boots beat down the worn path, in his mind, he walked over the best approach to his master, Raven. I’ve no choice but to tell him what has occupied my thoughts these past few years, returning to my homeland to restore my family’s honor and lands. He was kind enough to grant me my freedom and for that I owe him an insurmountable debt of gratitude, but I owe others as well. I shall tell him after breakfast.

As if trying to outrun the memory of the past, Caleb’s rapid descent down the mountainside reflected that desire. The speed of thought outstrips the fleet of foot and despite his best efforts to race ahead of this life altering event the memory stayed with him as he continued towards home. His breath grew short and his lungs burned, but still he pressed onward towards home. As he pondered the past his thoughts eventually returned to the present and the course that lie ahead, I must return to Skitheria and the Luminous City to stand before the king and face his judgment. Whatever task he lays before me, if mercy he grants, I will complete. I must restore the honor of the family that I have shamed. Hopefully, his majesty recognizes that the actions of a boy may not represent the man who stands before them. Still, I need to see to another matter first, convincing Raven, to let me return home. It was one matter to free me after years of slavery. It’s quite another to let me leave the island. Raven has become like a father to me and I suspect when I tell him why I want to go that he will grant my wish.

How quickly times passes in the mind when occupied by thought for as Caleb retraced his adolescent years in his mind, his feet guided almost by memory, found their way to the outskirts of the wooden hut that he called home. There was nothing fancy about the place, a one room collection of logs and rough hewn planks, sealed with a mud mixture and covered with a thatched roof of leaves and grass. It had a few windows so as to let in the light which the sun-drenched island offered in abundance, sparsely adorned with simple furniture, uncovered floors, a stone fire pit in the center, and a loft above where all inhabitants slept. Due to the floods caused by the rain running down the mountainside, the hut stood on thick wooden posts. I remember when those wooden suspended my hammock, before Raven let me sleep inside, he thought.

A tall, lean, sinewy figure with long, gray hair and green eyes gathered wood near the hut. Good morning! Caleb hailed.

Good morning to you, Caleb. My lad, how red your face is. Racing yourself down the mountain? You’ll never win.

I’ll never lose, either. Caleb chuckled.

Come, help me gather this wood. Then, we can talk over breakfast. I see that look in your eyes, which tells me that you have something on your mind.

He knows me too well, thought the young man. Very well then, we will talk over breakfast. Caleb started running to the hut, I might not be faster than myself, but I’m faster than you!

Recognizing the futility of a footrace when his foe had a good head start, Raven simply walked to the hut, ascended the steps, entered the abode, and put his wood onto the floor. As they breakfasted on a meal of cooked rabbit strips, bread, and berries, Caleb spoke first, Master, long have I lived here on this island, first as your slave, now as your guest. You have generously given me freedom, the freedom to do as I please. I am flattered by the kindness you’ve given even though I had been your spoil of war and duty bound to obey you. I owe you a true debt of gratitude for it lay within your power to ill use me. All of these facts make it much more difficult for me to…. Caleb paused for it pained him to speak words which might be displeasing to Raven. "He struggled to control his emotions as the words issued forth from his mouth,

I want to go home. I need to return to my country and to restore the honor of my family. The burden that I have placed on my mother and sister weighs heavily on my mind and I wish to see them returned to their rightful place of respectability. I know that I will have to face the king of my country and hear his decision on the matter. What’s more, it pains me to leave you, but I know in my heart I must do what is right. In a moment of selfish, boyish haste I brought my family shame and ruin. If I’ve learned anything from you, it’s that my actions define me as a man and I must answer for all of them, both good and bad.

Raven raised his hand and Caleb grew silent and eager with anticipation. My son, speak no more on this matter no more. The pain shows clearly on your face and I know that to keep you here would be a selfish act. As time passed, I knew this day would come, but it comes too quickly for an aging, lonely man. I wish you luck in your journey. The man that stands before me does what is right and he fears no man, like the men of our tribe. I’m proud of that man. You have my permission and my blessing to depart.

He continued speaking and looked up at the ceiling as if he were trying to look into the past. My boy, that strength of character and the passion to make amends saved you. When first I took you as my slave as a spoil of war, left behind by your friends for your interference, I despised you. That battle claimed the life of my only son. I sought to break your spirit through hard treatment and neglect to exact my revenge on you and your kind. One time early on, during a harsh storm I sent you into the forest to get firewood thinking you would either flee and perhaps die in the woods or return to me, crying, begging for mercy, mercy I wouldn’t grant. Instead, you returned with the wood and said not a word. No matter what I commanded, you obeyed without argument or complaint. Because of your kinds appetite for material goods, which I noticed during the campaign, I judged you to be soft and weak, but I never broke you and at first that made me try harder. I came to respect you, and then eventually love you like my own son. I do have one last request, though.

Caleb dropped to one knee before his host as he solemnly replied, I swear to honor any request that you lay before me.

As a stray tear rolled down his cheek, the old warrior answered, Go home and face their judgment. Meet their demands. Save your family and when you have succeeded come and see a lonely old man.

Raven…..father……I promise to return. I take your wisdom and courage in my heart, always. Caleb then rose to his feet, the two gripped each other’s forearms, gave a knowing glance, and then Caleb set about packing.

Four walls form a box, such a simple shape. In small spaces such as these, large amounts of life are spent. In them dreams take their shape, bonds are forged, they hold the beginning and the end of many days, miniature lifetimes, held together by the common thread of belonging to the same parties. In this box, Caleb stands and as he packs his belongings to return to his homeland, he dreams of seeing his mother and sister. I’ve got to make sure to have supplies for my journey, he said as his hands stuffed his brown leather sack with dried sticks of beef and fruit, but his mind was already on his boat. Slinging the water skin over his shoulder, he sees himself trekking across the landscape of Skitheria. Ah, my swords, I don’t doubt I’ll need these, he remarked. Placing the dual black scabbards, which sheathed the swords, he heads towards the doorway. I wonder what punishment the king will exact from me?

Raven stopped him in the doorway, Caleb. Before you go, I want you to have something. It’s a piece of my home and my heart. He presented the young man with a fine wooden bow. I made it for my first son. He called it Whisper, for how silently it killed. I send his spirit with your body. The son I lost and the son I gained, united as one. Carved from the solid heart of a Houmain tree and treated with oils from the Ghan tribe to make it extra durable. You won’t find its like anywhere, I promise.

Reverently, Caleb took the bow. You show me more kindness than I deserve. I shall honor the memory of both its maker and previous owner. We’ll talk over a cup of ale when I return.

It will be over many cups, son. May the winds carry you swiftly and safely on your journey to your homeland.

Caleb nodded and closed the door on the place that had been his home for nearly a decade. He headed down to the edge of the sea where he borrowed a long ship from a friend of Raven’s and began the nearly month long voyage home. While such a trip could prove fatal in a small craft, Caleb trusted in his map and his craft. Knowing the risks involved he departed homeward.

Chapter 2

The Past

As Caleb rowed his boat homeward, the sweat from his effort glistening on his body, he reflected on how he had come to live on the isle. As a young noble he lived in Castle Hart with his mother, Serene, and his sister Mayja. I still miss my father, slain in the service of the king. He had served as a member of the Honor Guard, the most celebrated band of knights, perishing in the campaign that brought peace to the elves and tigans. If I could achieve my dream, maybe they’d invite me to join their ranks? He thought. Caleb’s days in the family castle seemed so far away, some seven years removed from his present situation.

Lord Islooric, was good to me, like a second father, after mine perished. I tried to model myself after him, noble, bold, strong, but just. He watched over me like my father had watched over him, and saved his life.

One night as the Hart family entertained that celebrated knight of the Honor Guard, Lord Islooric, they gathered around the fire in their dining hall and heard tale of a future conquest. Lord Islooric shared with them that he had earned the honor to command the Luminarch’s forces on an expedition to the recently discovered Cadre Island. Their king, the Luminarch had recently sent missionaries to the Isle, to tell them about the Way of the Light, and the Goddess, Uua. The natives failed to embrace this religion, instead they clung to their own beliefs. They attacked the missionaries, slaughtering most of the troupe.

Upon their return, the few remaining missionaries told their king of how they had not succeeded in their endeavor, but had some consolatory news for him regardless in that the island had great stores of gold. When he learned of this news, the monarch deemed it necessary to take the Isle by force. He gave a royal decree that the Honor Guard dispatch half its members, thirty knights, and their personal armies, to the island to subjugate the native people and avenge the murder of the peaceful men of religion. Caleb’s family spent the evening enrapt, as the knight wove a story of battle, honor, and riches. Caleb, I want you to accompany me on this journey as my squire, he had asked. The king has selected me to lead his noble forces and I need a good lad to serve me well.

My dreams would have come true, had I followed Islooric’s teachings. I would have become an Honor Knight for sure, Caleb said aloud and cursed as he stopped rowing for a moment. I just couldn’t watch him lose.

He continued his journey and his ruminations. What excitement echoed throughout the Golden Realm when the king’s shipbuilders finally mastered the art of building craft capable of sailing beyond the shoreline and out into the open water. Every citizen waited for news of what lie beyond the land they knew. At first, smaller ships, captained by seasoned navigators braved the elements in search of new land. After months of searching they finally encountered an island several hundred miles away. That is how the missionaries came to know of the island. I heard they sought, and were granted, an audience with the king. At that audience they asked to be the first people allowed to journey to the island. They had the notion of spreading the word the Goddess, Uua, to the natives. Victor IV monarch assented, for peaceful relations with a new nation constituted his goal and he found it best to curry favor with the church.

Caleb’s thoughts carried him several months forward, the time required to equip the king’s existing warships to sail out into the open sea. I remember standing on the shore of the Vyjing Sea, watching the knights’ armies pile into the ships of war. What a fantastic time! The smell and sight of the horses, their shoes clomping on the stone streets, the sound of waves crashing on the shore, the sight of knights polishing their armor, squires loading supplies into ships, foot soldiers, hardened men of battle, entering the boats, one by one, and archers with quivers stocked and slung over their shoulders, marching into the seafaring vessels. While throngs of spectators and well wishers, as well as family of those about to embark on the voyage crowded the docks to see the spectacle of the first voyage of the royal navy embarking on a voyage of conquest. Filled with a sense of national pride some carried banners, others waved their flags, many sung songs, it had the feeling of a festival.

In the mind of a young man it all foretold of battle and future conquest. I thought the natives stood no chance, against even a portion of the might of my country, Skitheria, the Golden Realm. After all, hadn’t we conquered the other countries in the Battle of the Five Kingdoms and then put them under their rule? Over the course of several hundred years the other kingdoms and their customs and nobility had become integrated into those of the victor.

How could I think of anything but success? On the world of Mithkre, amongst all of the countries and all of the races, Skitheria stood supreme, exceeding the lands of the dwares, elves, tigans, ogres, and gnolls in terms of size, scope, wealth, and might, combined. It stood as a beacon of enlightenment, progress, culture, and art for the other civilizations. Victor IV, had personally brokered the peace betwixt the elves and tigans by exerting his force of will. After tasting the bite of his armies, both of the warring factions accepted his terms of peace.

With our main fleet still at sea, Lord Islooric had sent forth a scouting party who encountered a simple fishing village on the beaches of the island. They gave word of a village consisting of a cluster of thatched wooden huts with straw roofs, fire pits strewn about the shore, and five massive storage huts, presumably created for the stockpiling and warehousing of fish to sustain the natives in the event of a poor fishing season. Armed with this information Lord Islooric dispatched three warships and numerous troop transports led by Lord Kilgar. The transports filled with footmen and archers surely had the strength to secure the village and establish a proper base of operations on the beach. Lord Islooric told Lord Kilgar that his suspicion that the fishermen had not slaughtered the missionaries.

In Lord Kilgar’s considered opinion, a fishing village offered little in the way of resistance to his force. He expected to conquer these indigenous lesser beings in no time. As he put it, their awe alone for what they were about to see might be sufficient for them to yield without much of a struggle. The scouts had reported that the village bustled with life and activity, yet when the Skitherian army landed, they saw no signs of any inhabitants. A quick search showed that their supplies remained, but it seemed like the people had vanished. Lord Kilgar ordered his men to begin making camp.

When the Skitherian army began busying themselves with unloading their supplies, the natives fell upon them! Arrows rained from the surrounding jungle and found their mark in many a soldier. Following closely behind that, native warriors, garbed in animal hides, their faces painted with different colors, came pouring out of the brush, some armed with swords, others with clubs. Shouting blood curdling screams, they quickly raced at their foes in an angry ambush! They caught the invaders unawares and in disarray, falling on them and attacking with a savage ferocity frequently found in those defending their homeland. Unbeknownst to the Skitherians, the five tribes that lived on the island tolerated each other at best, and that they frequently engaged in territorial encroachments, vying for supremacy. Yet, when they beheld the advancing fleet, they had sworn a hasty pact of mutual defense led by the leader of the Bear tribe, Turgo the Thunderclub.

The five barbarian armies cut a deep swath into the Skitherian host, reaching deep into the heart of their forces. So great was their onslaught that they nearly pushed the invaders back onto the beach before the Skitherians regrouped and began their counteroffensive. Archers took up positions on the boats and began firing at the barbarians, which helped slow their progress. Meanwhile, commanding officers ordered the footmen to close ranks and form into columns which they did with impressive alacrity and began marching forward in lockstep fashion, shields raised and protecting the man to their left, while thrusting their swords in unison. The barbarians had never witnessed such a tactic and had no idea how to counter attack with any degree of success.

Slowly and methodically, the soldiers began pushing back the advancing horde that had no option left but to reverse their advance in the face of such an organized and effective counteroffensive. Many barbarians succumbed to this precise onslaught and soon the Skitherians had forced their way back onto the beach, near the fishing encampment before the barbarians retreated back into the wilderness which caused the invaders to celebrate in a muted fashion, for they all knew that the real challenge had just begun.

As the Skitherians established their base of operations, the barbarians harried their efforts by launching probing attacks, hoping to find a weakness to exploit and to overrun the invaders. The Council of Five created by the five barbarian tribes and led by their respective chiefs, devoted their energies to coordinating their offensives. Despite their collective efforts, after that first day’s triumph, they failed to make any significant inroads into destroying or deterring the islands new and unwelcome inhabitants. Similarly, Lord Islooric and his advisors devised and attempted multiple military excursions designed to topple their foes, but no matter what attempts they made, and how many battles they lost or won, they lacked the resources and manpower to achieve a clear victory.

So it went for several months with neither side gaining a decisive advantage and both armies watching the casualty count climb. During that time, Lord Islooric had dispatched a courier back to the court of the Light King to report what had transpired and to request sufficient reinforcements to take the island. Months later the courier returned with news that Lord Samsuran, the Luminarch’s chief advisor and head of the Honor Guard refused the request to reinforce Lord Islooric, stating that Islooric had sufficient forces to conquer the island. Lord Samsuran, ever conservative and cautious, felt that the expedition had too high a cost in both manpower and money, weakening their defenses against the other races and depleting their coffers. Since Lord Islooric had yet to send any spoils back to the king, Lord Samsuran felt imminently justified in rendering his decision.

Such news had an immediate, negative impact on the morale of the troops under Lord Islooric’s command as they expected an answer in the affirmative and with it, the means to achieve victory. One night Lord Islooric summoned Caleb to his tent. Caleb, I’m troubled by Lord Samsuran's response. We’ve lost many lives during this campaign and our efforts to establish and develop a mine have been thwarted by the denizens of this island. Furthermore, our supplies have dwindled and we have no hope for additional help. We severely underestimated the size and strength of the native army as well as their tenacity and it has cost us dearly. Not that I care, but my reputation at court has diminished commensurate with the lack of success I have experienced on this campaign. I’ve spent many a night considering how best to swiftly change our fate here. On some nights I imagine various aggressive, frontal assaults on the tribes, but even when we have destroyed an encampment, it has little effect on them for they live such a simple life, taking what they need from the land. No sooner did we destroy to one of their settlements than a new one sprouts up elsewhere.

My lord, I am truly sorry for your troubles. I thought we would have made quick work of these people, Caleb replied.

I thought so as well my squire. Their resiliency impresses me and they have proven themselves as worthy adversaries on the field of battle. Had we more troops or supplies though, I have no doubt that we would overcome them.

What are we to do? Caleb asked.

That is why I have summoned you here. I intend to challenge their leader to single combat to determine the outcome of this conflict.

Single combat? Against a barbarian! Why, only nobles deserve such treatment! It’s an outrage to consider such a thing.

Caleb, you are correct that such rules apply in Skitheria, but here, things are different. I see no other way to effect a quick and decisive outcome wherein we achieve victory. Moreover, if you only concerned yourself with the rules, you’d remember that squires never raise their voices to their lords. Lord Islooric gently reminded him.

Caleb lowered his head as he humbly muttered, I am sorry my lord. It’s just that I look at you as my father and I forget my place. I never want to see you in such a low state as having to engage a savage in single combat. Have you spoken with the other lords about this?

No, I haven’t and I have no intention of seeking their approval for this. Tomorrow morning I shall dispatch a messenger to their camp to tender my offer and to await a reply which, given their hardy nature, I expect them to accept. They are a proud and hardy lot. My offer seems like just the sort of thing that would appeal to them. When they accept, then I’ll inform the other lords of my actions. I suspect the troops will approve, at which point the lords will have no choice but to follow that lead. Caleb, tomorrow we’ll see an end to this conflict and with a little luck and the help of Uua, a victory for Skitheria. Now, let’s dine together and talk about old times.

So, they passed the evening speaking of Caleb’s family for whom Lord Islooric had a great affinity. Lord Islooric told Caleb of some of the campaigns upon which he and Caleb’s father had served, with the kind knight regaling Caleb with tales of his father’s heroics. They talked of Caleb’s mother and younger sister and the happy times the four of them spent at Castle Hart. Together, they spoke of Caleb’s future prospects upon their return. Though they talked for hours about a great number of things over an excellent meal of deer, roasted potatoes, and fresh vegetables, there was one subject upon which they did not touch the passing of Caleb’s father.

To both of them, talk of death or loss on an evening such as this seemed heretical. Rather, they chose to savor each other’s company. Eventually, the evening wore on and Lord Islooric bade his young squire a good evening, cautioning him that a good knight did his best to keep his wits about him and that a night of good rest, free of drink, lends itself to preparedness. They closed the evening with kind words and an embrace, father to son. Caleb left the tent of his lord and master, with tears streaming down his cheeks, not knowing what tomorrow might hold.

In the afternoon, the messenger returned. The barbarians had indeed accepted the challenge laid down by Lord Islooric. The messenger announced that Turgo the Thunderclub, the chief of the Bear tribe and commander of the combined host had willingly accepted the challenge. In fact, he had scoffed at the notion of meeting the soft commander of the knights in single combat, for he considered them all to be a weak sort of human. He commented to the messenger that he had not expected any such man on the invading side to be brave enough to meet him in single combat, let alone let the outcome of that duel to determine the fate of the entire conflict. This man, whoever he is, is a brave fool. I’ll send him to his grave and his dog soldiers back across the sea! Turgo barked to his comrades. All of this the messenger reported to Lord Islooric.

That morning, Lord Islooric summoned the other lords to his tent and informed them of his intentions. Not one of them agreed with what they deemed a rash act, but news of the knight’s challenged had already spread through the camp. As Lord Islooric had predicted, gossip of so great a magnitude weighed too heavily on the tongue of his messenger so that the only means of relieving himself of the load lie in sharing it with the other men, an act he performed willingly. When the various knights assembled before their commander they knew that he had the support of the troops and that despite their personal objections, the lords found themselves hard pressed to go against popular opinion and the duel was set for the middle of the afternoon on the beach where the conflict began.

Caleb thought of how he spent the early part of the afternoon polishing his idol’s armor to a high shine dreaming of the effect Lord Islooric’s mailed splendor would have on the rough Turgo and how a knight, clad in his best armor, holding a bright shield bearing his crest, with a finely-plumed helmet, and a gleaming sword inspired both and awe and fear into the heart of the foe that beheld him. The lad envisioned that the raiment of Lord Islooric so overcame Turgo that it caused him to lose heart in the fight and