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ANTANAR PART 1
Lightning highlighted the fortress walls against the night sky as Antanar
Swifbtreeze raced towards castle Windrock on his horse at top speed. He reached the
gates, and his horse reared up, rain lashing its face. He hammered at the gates and
bellowed out.
“Open up, Aethenor, open up! It’s me, Antanar! Open up!”
But no reply came. In a fit of rage, Antanar flung himself at the gates, beating at
them with his sword. Exhausted, soaking wet, and covered with mud, he slid down to
the ground and wept. Why had he let this happen?
Then a sudden thought struck him. He leapt to his feet, and dashed off down the
foothills, coming to a halt by the cliffs, the sea lashing against the rocks below him.
He ran his hand across the rock face, and found what he was looking for, a small
circle carved into the stone. He leant all his weight against it, and pushed. The circle
slid back, and the rock started to move. Before long a small cave mouth had appeared
in the rocks. Antanar dashed in, grabbing a torch from the wall, and ran up the stairs
leading to the heart of the castle. Before long he came across a small wooden door.
He kicked it open, and the sight which greeted him turned his stomach.
The bodies of High Elf warriors lay everywhere, some beheaded, some with their
chests torn open, but all were dead. Antanar ran non stop through passages and
corridors, being greeted at every turn by the corpses of his former comrades. He at
last came upon a deep blue curtain, stained with blood. He ripped it open, and stepped
into the room.
It was a large, circular room, with an arched window to the left, and a doorway out
to the ramparts to the right. This was his fathers tower, where he had studied the arts
of magic and war. Scrolls, parchment, and spell books lay everywhere. There had
obviously been a struggle, as almost half a score of dark elf bodies lay dotted around
the room, some slain by steel, and some by magical fire.
But then Antanar spotted the body lying in the center of the room. He ran over to
it, and turned it over. He fell to his knees. His father, Ibnèthe Swiftbreeze, was dead.
His throat was cut, and blood trickled down from his brow. His robes had been torn
open, and carved into his chest was a large, jagged, letter K. Antanar knew whose
initial this was. Karnof. The Dark Elf corsair had fought Ibnèthe in the Old World,
and had been defeated. Just before he had fled, Antanar had remembered him saying
that he would be back, and this time he would show no mercy. Antanar had been out
hunting with his friends, Thandol and Artaith, when the storm came. A messenger
came running, informing them that Karnof had attacked the castle. Antanar had
mounted his steed and rode back immediately. But it seemed he was too late.
Antanar stared down at the lifeless face of his father. He had taught Antanar
everything. How to fight, how to hunt, and the secrets of the arts of magic. Antanar
saw the gem hanging around his fathers neck, the Talisman of Purity. This Amulet
was the secret of the Swiftbreeze family’s success. It held the secrets of fire magic
within it, and it was this talisman which gave old Ibnèthe the power of his magic. For
Ibnèthe was old, he was ancient. But this had not deterred him in his life. He was still
a powerful warrior and a great leader. Magical flames danced within the gem as
Antanar looked, and the harder he looked, the more the power of the stone dragged
him in, hypnotizing him, singing out for him to take it from his fathers body and place
it around his own neck.
And he did. He took, it off his father, and put it around his own neck. Immediately
he felt different, lighter, and in more power. He felt like he could rule the world if he
tried, if he could conquer Lustria and the Old World with a flick of his finger. But
Antanar knew this was not to be. The amulet’s powers often had this effect on weaker
souls, and this had often led to catastrophic deaths and accidents, and all the time the
spirits in the amulet would be laughing, like it was a game.
But Antanar was stronger of mind and of spirit. He could command the amulet to
aid him in battle, to make fire dance from his finger tips, to make balls of flame erupt
in his hand for him to hurl at his foes. Antanar had only worn the gem once before, in
his youth, and it had immediately flung him into unconsciousness. But know he was
ready. Together with the amulet, he was ready for anything, he could defeat Karnof.
Antanar stood up, and clasped the amulet in his hands. This is what his father
would of wanted. For him to follow in his footsteps. For him to avenge his father’s
death. It was his destiny.
But Antanar’s day dreaming had led him away from the real world. In an instant he
was brought back to reality, and he swung round, to see a Dark Elf Assassin standing
in the doorway. He swung round again. There was another entering from the ramparts,
and another swinging in through the window. Each one was masked and cloaked in
black silks, and they all carried curved, serrated blades dripping with venom.
Antanar snapped into action. Grabbing his sword, he charged at the one in the
doorway. The Assassin side-stepped out of the way just in time, and brought his blade
down. But Antanar was quick, and ducked out the way as the cruel weapon whistled
through the air, catching a lock of his long golden hair. The amulet at Antanar’s chest
started to glow with power, and flames erupted in his palm. Bellowing out, he flung
them at the Assassin. It bowled the Dark Elf over, stunning him, and his cloak caught
light. Antanar raised his sword to finish him off, but another of the Assassins leapt in
front of him. Antanar lunged, and the Dark Elf parried, but too late. The blow took
him in the throat, slaying him in an instant.
The next one flung himself at Antanar. He rolled out the way, and thrust upwards
with his blade, wounding the Assassin in the side. Now Antanar was lying next to the
wounded one on the floor, and he leapt to his feet, and brought his blade down,
decapitating the Assassin with one blow.
Now it was just Antanar and the one wounded in the side. Both combatants circled
each other, seeking an opening. The Assassin lunged at him, and slashed wildly with
his poisoned sword. The blow took him in the shoulder, and deadly poison coursed
through his veins. He staggered back, and fell to the floor. The Assassin stood over
him, and was about to bring the sword down to finish him off, but the amulet started
to glow again. The Assassin stepped back, as if surprised. Antanar jumped up, and
pointed the amulet at the Assassin. White hot flames leapt from the amulet, and
engulfed the Assassin. After a while the smoke cleared, leaving a charred, blackened
body.
Antanar staggered up to the window, in time to see a red sailed ship sailing away.
He shook his fist at it, and yelled out into the storm.
“I’ll hunt you down, Karnof! I’ll hunt you down or die trying, Spawn of
Naggaroth!!”
Now Antanar wasn’t alone in the room again. His companions, Karnof and Artaith,
were standing in the doorway, with the six guards who had accompanied them on
their hunting trip. Artaith glanced down at the Dark Elf bodies, and then his eyes
moved over to Ibnèthe’s body. For a while there was silence. Then Thandol spoke.
“Who did it?”
Antanar paused, then replied. “Karnof.” He walked over to the ramparts, and his
friends followed him. He looked down to the cove. There the ships were moored to
the bay. They had not been sailed for thirty years. Antanar called one of the guards.
“Cerion,” he said, “Take Ascarnil and Aethenor, and search Ulthuan for warriors
willing to fight for us. Scour every realm, and bring all able-bodied warriors back
here to me. I want hunters from Chrace, charioteers from Tiranoc, spearmen from
Yvresse, horsemen from Ellyrion, swordsmen from Saphery. We shall raise an army,
and set sail after Karnof, hunt him down to the ends of the earth. You seven
warriors,” he indicated the six guards, “shall be my captains. You will be the ones
who knew my father, and who have the right to hate Karnof for what he has done.
Thandol, you shall carry my standard into battle, and Artaith, your magic shall aid the
army and your fiery spells shall wreak havoc amongst the enemy. We shall form the
Border Patrol, and it will be our duty to hunt avenge my father’s death. If any of you
want to step out, tell me now.”
All of them stood still. “We’re with you all the way on this one,” said Artaith, “and
we’ll help you pay back Karnof for what he has done, or die fighting. I think I speak
for everyone her.” There was a murmur of agreement.
“Right,” said Antanar, “then jump to it, men of the Border Patrol.”

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