Excerpt for The Medallion Chronicles: Bloodlines by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

The Medallion Chronicles:


By: C.A.Jarest


The Gods of Yugerith:

A long time ago when the universe was first created there were eight Gods, six of whom were born from the union of Dalgot, the father of all Gods, and Amerithia, Mother to all the Gods barring Dalgot. These eight gods created the world called Yugerith. The three sons of Dalgot were Belgron the oldest, also known as The Sun God. Then Krothrin who was the second born son known to be The Keeper of the Stars, and then there was Ctholiean who because of his rank of being third son and thirsty for his father’s affection became known as The God of War. Then there stood the three daughters. Flithera the oldest daughter had the unfortunate title of being the Goddess of Death. Aberithica, the second female child born was Goddess of The Winds and all that occupied its space. Last but certainly not least was, the Goddess of Fire whose command of the temperamental element got her recognition from both of her parents and still she was unhappy and jealous of her father.

One day the mighty God Dalgot was wandering around Yugerith when he stumbled upon a muddy chunk of gold. He took the gold back to his tower where he then fashioned a magical Medallion from the gold. As he carefully crafted the Medallion, Dalgot infused into the gold the sacred Elvin waters of Aronlu and other things that he held dear to his heart. Dalgot then put his symbol on the Medallion, a green Dragon. As he wore the Medallion over time it would glow a brilliant green. Dalgot also noticed that as he wore the Medallion, the jewel started to develop a consciousness. Somehow the Medallion had absorbed some of Dalgots’ life force. Amused by this Dalgot went to the other Gods to tell them of his Medallion. Dalgot then realized that some of the Gods would become jealous of his jewel and want to steal it. So Dalgot called upon his disciples and told them to hide the Medallion on Yugerith and to protect it with their lives.

Zathiria awed with the Medallion coveted it, wanting it for her own. She knew her father and knew he would hide it on Yugerith, land of his spirit, in his disciples care. Finding it was not a difficult task and once she found it, the object of her infatuation and her father’s creation, she hid it away from her father’s eyes and his knowing. Under the guise of secret actions Zathiria could not contain her desire to wear the Medallion herself. Tentatively she draped the golden cord around her neck. The weight of its importance touched her skin and at that moment in a distant place the Box of Rocza was released from its ancient shackles of containment. The Box of Rocza held all of Amerithias’ fury. As it is true of every earthly mother so too can it be said of a Goddess. Amerithia was not foreign to a mother’s temperate love and affection with her children as she too could spill into a tirade of wrath when disobeyed by disobedient children. To protect Yugerith from her anger, the other Gods harnessed her angst in a strong box, immune from the wear and tear of rage. So the Medallion, containing a portion of Dalgot’s essence, knew it was stolen and triggered the prehistoric response of outrage contained in the Box of Rocza beyond the capacity of its heavy laden chains as it was placed around the youngest child of Dalgot and Amerithias’ neck. As a consequence of her shame and dishonor a fraction of her soul was cast into the underworld with her sister, Flithera, to serve as her handmaiden while awaiting redemption or revenge. This would be her punishment for stealing from her father and betraying her mother’s love.

The Gods tracked down Zathiria and took the Medallion back to Dalgot. Angry with Zathiria, Dalgot and the Gods waged war with her. This war lasted for almost eight hundred years when at last Zathiria was defeated on the battle field of Deglume; by Sorinth and his two twin brothers, Sovane and Sobrin. The night Zathiria’s body was killed was when all evil would no longer be able to terrorize the people of Yugerith. The evil creatures Zathiria had created were hunted down and exterminated from the world. Wazore, Dalgots’ primary disciple, decided to appoint each of the immortal brothers to rule over a kingdom. Sovane ruled the kingdom to the south, Sobrin ruled to the east, and Sorinth ruled to the north. To make sure that peace would be preserved each brother agreed to marry a princess of another race. Sorinth married Betallina of the giants, Sobrin married Solvien of the avens, and Sovane married Galien of the elves. The three brothers ruled their kingdoms in peace for many, many years until Zathiria’s disciple; Gellith emerged out of the darkness. Gellith invaded Sovanes’ kingdom first in order to take back the Medallion and again there was war. This war would last for centuries.

When news of the war reached Dalgot he went to Wazore in order to protect his Medallion yet again. Dalgot, afraid for his precious jewel, put a curse on it. No one but Dalgot or the Guardian of the Medallion would be able to wear it. Anyone else who touched it would die. As the war for the Medallion continued Zathiria was slowly gathering up her powers, the power to leave the underworld and to take the Medallion back.

The night Zathiria’s body was killed was the night her body and soul became one again. Now that her body and soul had been rejoined, Zathiria would wait in the depths of the underworld as Gellith hunted down each of the Guardians and killed them. The closer Gellith came to finding the Guardians the more power Zathiria gained, and soon she would be able to return to Yugerith. She waited eagerly to join in the hunt and to conquer Yugerith for herself.

Chapter One

“Sir they have smashed through our barricade, we can’t hold them back for much longer!” The young man screamed over the explosions of cannons and the cries of dying men.

“Do what you can! They must not be allowed to get through!” Yelled the commander at the young man. The commander couldn’t give up; his army had lasted for half a year so far. He had to hold the city; if they lost the city then they would forever be defeated. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Yes sir!” Shrieked the young man as he ran off to inform the troops; leaving the commander alone. The commander looked over his map of the battle field again as he knew there was no way they were going to win. He had lost too many men, they were outnumbered. Minutes later the young man returned to the commander to inform him that the city was lost. They had been overrun.

“Sir!” the young man said as he rushed into the commander’s chambers.

“They have swarmed our troops; they are in the city now. We must draw back.” The young man was covered in blood and he had the look of fear in his eyes. This was a fear the commander knew all his troops held in their eyes and hearts. The commander knew he had to retreat.

“All right tell them to pull back.” The commander said sitting back in his old beaten chair.

“Yes sir.” The young man said turning to leave the commander once again.

“Wait, before you go I want you, I need you, to do something for me.” The commander looked the young man square in the eyes.

“I need you to go to the northern post. There you will find a man, tell him the elk have fled.”

“Sir what does that mean?” The young man asked.

“That doesn’t concern you, just tell him and go quickly! We cannot waste any more time.” The commander went back over to his chair and sat down.

“It was an honor to have fought under your command sir.” The young man saluted the commander and dashed out of the room.

The commander sat alone in his command room as he waited for Gellith. The very man he was trying to kill and the reason why this war had started in the first place. If Zathiria ever got her hands on the Medallion again the other Gods would be banished from Yugerith for all eternity. And she would rule over Yugerith’s people with an unquenchable taste for servitude, whatever the cost. The commander couldn’t let that happen, not while he was alive.

Suddenly he heard footsteps climbing the rickety stairs up to his room. The door exploded into shards of wood and revealed a menacing figure. A tall muscular man covered in blood soaked armor stood in the door way with his long sword drawn. The black haired man walked over to the commander and placed his warm bloody sword on the commander’s throat. The menacing intruder smiled.

“Bow to the might of Zathiria!” The man bellowed.

“Never Gellith you will have to kill me first.” They stood facing each other.

“You dare challenge me Herthian? You are more foolish than I thought.” Gellith sneered as he stared at Herthian.

“Tell me where it is Herthian and you will be generously rewarded by Zathiria herself. You cannot resist Zathiria, no one can.” Gellith said quietly as his gaze softened a little.

“Never, you will have to kill me Gellith.” Herthian said calmly. “You will never find it Gellith and I will never tell you where it is. By the light of Dalgot, Zathiria will never find it!” Herthian said triumphantly.

“You will die then!” Gellith raised his mighty sword and with one smooth motion Herthians’ decapitated body collapsed to the floor and lay in a pool of hot blood. Gellith stood over Herthians’ lifeless body and cleaned his sword. He took the head of his enemy by the hair and left Herthian’s body on the floor to rot in its own filth.

The young man raced through the rubble of what used to be one of the three grandest kingdoms in Yugerith. The young man ran as fast as he could while keeping out of sight from the Grelin’s; Zathiria’s minions. The Grelin were ugly, vicious monsters that stood as tall as three grown men stacked head to foot and had malicious horns atop their heads, accompanied by razor sharp teeth that could tear through anything. The face of a Grelin was said to be a cross between a pig and a donkey; it is a face only a mother could love the people would say. Zathiria bred the Grelin herself, altering them continuously; making them stronger and more obedient. The Grelin were like a plague upon Yugerith that ravished its beautiful lands; the Grelin were unstoppable.

The young man arrived at the northern gate of the city where the outpost was located. The gate was heavily guarded by Grelin; he couldn’t get through without being seen. He sighed and started back into the city to find a different way around. The young man crept around a building corner and saw Gellith leaving Herthian’s chambers. Gellith stood overlooking the city and held Herthian’s severed head in his left hand. The young man couldn’t believe what he was seeing and turned away quickly. The taste of vomit crawled up the man’s throat as he spewed up the contents of his stomach, he wiped his mouth. The young man had to get to the outpost. He sat there for a moment as he tried to gather himself; suddenly he remembered that there were tunnels that existed underneath the once great city. The tunnels had been dug many years ago in case the city needed to be evacuated. The young man peered into a window of the building behind him and carefully entered. He looked cautiously and examined the floor boards where he found a small silver latch; he pulled up on the latch. A large door emerged from the floor as he pulled up and revealed a tunnel entrance. He looked around one last time and jumped down into the blackness and closed the door on top of himself.

The tunnel was divided into many different sub-tunnels which led to different exits out of the city. The man continued to follow the main tunnel until he saw a dim light up ahead. He crawled out and found himself standing in a lush green valley with mountains looming in the horizon. The young man looked around and sure enough he had made it safe and sound to the northern post. He turned and gazed at the once majestic city, it was where he had grown up. Now all that was left were big black clouds of smoke billowing in the skies above the defeated city. Putting the thought beside himself the young man looked around for the person he was supposed to meet. Just then out of the corner of his eyes he saw a tall elderly man dressed in blue satin robes. The old man had a gleaming white beard that just barely touched the ground, and in his hand he held a tall brown staff. The young man approached.

“The elk have fled.” The young man said unsure if this was the right person he should be speaking with.

“Who told you that?” The old man asked sharply.

“Herthian told me to come to the northern outpost and speak with the man there; you are the only one here.”

“Where is Herthian?”

“He is dead.” Flashes of Herthian’s severed head ran before the young man’s eyes.

“Thank you for delivering to me this message. Come, we must go now before we are found.” The old man said lifting his staff into the air. The old man started to rotate his staff counterclockwise in the air. Directly in front of the old man there were sparks of energy that danced rapidly from side to side, creating a circular pattern. Eventually a large floating hole appeared, swirling with hints of electricity. The young man noticed that small stones and pebbles were rolling over the green grass and flew through the air into the energy hole. The young man’s clothes waved in the wild wind that seemed to be coming from the hole.

“Come we must go this way.” The sorcerer motioned for the young man to step through the hole.

“No way.” The young man said stepping away.

“Don’t make me force you in. It is safe trust me.” The sorcerer said. The young man hesitantly approached the floating hole and jumped in, quickly followed by the sorcerer.

The young man found himself being flung across a small clearing and rammed into a tree. He rolled over on his side and grasped his stomach. The old man gracefully stepped out of the floating hole and walked over to the young man. The young man stood up and leaned against a tree.

“Where are we?” The young man asked.

“Somewhere we are safe. Now that we are safe you can discard your disguise.” The old man said.

“What do you mean disguise?” The young man asked. The sorcerer raised an eye brow.

“I am a sorcerer, I know things.” He said. The young man stood there for a moment and then took off her helmet. Long black hair dropped out of the helmet and waved in the light breeze. The woman looked at the old man with her intense purple eyes and smiled. Though she was covered in mud there was still a soft feminine look about her.

“That is better; you make a much nicer woman than a man. Now may I ask why you were in disguise?” The sorcerer asked her.

“My family was killed by the Grelin and I wanted revenge. As you are aware there are no women in the army, so I disguised myself as a man.” The woman said spitefully.

“I see, what is your name?” The sorcerer asked.

“My name is Violet. My mother thought it was appropriate since my eyes are purple. What is yours?” Violet asked.

“My name is Wazore, it is an honor.” He said.

“What was it that Herthian wanted you to hide from Gellith?” Violet asked.

“Herthian and I were very old friends. The item that he wanted hidden is a secret. A secret I cannot reveal to just anyone. I must now go into hiding in order to protect the item. If you would like you could come with me?” Wazore asked. Violet thought about it for a moment. Her family was dead and she had nowhere else to go.

“It would be an honor to go with you.” Violet said.

For centuries the Medallion was safe from Gellith under the watchful eyes of Master Wazore and Violet. Over many thousands of years Violet was instructed by Wazore in the ways of sorcery, which then enabled Violet to live for an eternity. Wazore taught Violet sorcery for her protection and for the Medallion’s protection. Wazore kept the Medallion moving between the remaining guardians. Even though Zathiria was dead she could still instruct Gellith to go kill off the guardians. Gellith, the reluctant servant, met the terms of Zathiria. Gellith had already killed Sovane’s son, Herthian, but Sovane had produced another heir; a baby girl. Gellith killed Sovane in a battle, afterwards Gellith went to Sovane’s palace and slaughtered the rest of his family; but his blade missed Sovane’s baby girl.

Wazore and Violet went to Sovane’s palace in search of any survivors where they found Sovane’s baby daughter. Violet then went into hiding with the baby girl and raised the child as her own. Wazore and Violet waited in silence for when the day would come when they would be called upon to help assist the Guardian of the Medallion on the journey to defeat Zathiria.

Chapter Two

Twenty Years Later:

The battlefield rang with cries of men, explosions of cannons, and the clanging of armor. The field was littered with the dead or dying. On the grass plains the army of men fell and the army of Zathiria prevailed. Zathiria would not stop until her evil hands once again held the Medallion that shattered her soul. Gellith’s army left yet another battle field triumphantly and as they left they finished off anyone who might still draw breath. As Gellith left the carnage behind, he didn’t know that there was still one soul alive.

There on the outer rim of the battle field she lay with a sword through her leg as her tired body slept on a pile of rotting flesh. Many days passed before any of the local villagers ventured out onto the field in hopes that there might be someone alive. They found her just in time and brought her back to their town where they quickly began to heal her. Days passed by and still the young woman did not wake. The people feared that they had come too late to save her. One morning when the scarlet sun was rising into the sky the young woman woke. Frightened she lurched out of bed and grabbed a small suture knife off of the table next to her bed. She stood for a moment as she looked around herself. There were beds lining both sides of the long room and people were scattered between the beds. She blinked a few times as she tried to piece together where she might be and what had happened to her. An unknown servant walked over to her to help but instead she grabbed him and put the knife to his neck. The other wounded people in the room started to shout at her. She blocked the screaming out of her mind and walked towards the door with her prisoner. A man dressed in white ran over to the doorway and stood with his arms outstretched and blocked the door. He said something to her but she couldn’t hear him, he said it again and again.

“Be still!” said the man dressed in white. His eyes delved into the woman as she inched closer to a nearby wall.

“Where am I? I want to know where I am now or I’ll kill him!” The young woman demanded as she slowly moved the knife across the servants’ throat. The servant gasped as the cool metal dug into his throat and warm blood oozed out of his flesh.

“Put the knife down and I will tell you where you are.” The man bellowed at her. The woman pulled the knife again and the servant started to bleed even more.

“Alright, you are at a monastery. We found you out on the battle field and brought you here to be treated. Now let him go.” The man pleaded. The woman looked at the man and she released the servant. She was not afraid of the man, she had been yelled at many times in the army. What scared her the most was not knowing how or why she was here. The woman collapsed to the floor.

Her hands were shaking and she suddenly felt very sick. The white robed man helped her to her feet and walked her back to her bed. The woman sat down and blindly gazed at the floor. The woman was not frightened by where she was, she was frightened because she had no recollection of a battle. The woman calmed down and cautiously walked over to a window. She gazed out at the rising sun over the white peaked mountains. Somehow the world seemed at peace for the moment, peace the world had not seen in many years. The world had changed over the many years of war and tyranny. The woman heard a faint voice calling to her from behind her. She turned and saw the white robed man smiling at her.

“Please child, sit down.” He motioned towards a couple of chairs. They both sat down.

“What happened? Where is this place located?” The woman asked.

“Our town is called Luctan and it is located in the northern edge of the farm lands. Gellith’s army stormed the kingdom and won of course.” The man said as he studied the young woman. Her bright green eyes were filled with worry and her black hair hung over her shoulder. She was a tall woman and very shapely.

“The local villagers brought you here to this monastery where we healed you.” The man said pointing to her leg where there was a bandage.

“Oh. Thank you.” The woman said softly as she touched the bandage.

“What is your name child?” The man asked.

“My name is Zail, and yours?” Zail asked.

“My name is Keal’tor; I am the high priest here. I take it you will be leaving now that you are well.”

“Yes I will be on my way.” Zail said.

“Very well. I will have someone bring in the clothes we found you in. Warm wishes to where ever your journey may lead you.” Keal’tor said leaving the room.

Moments later a servant came in with Zail’s clothes. Once Zail was changed she went down to the courtyard. Zail was dressed in a dark brown leather suit with a belt wrapped around her waist for her sword. Keal’tor was waiting in the court yard for Zail. He held the reins of a horse in his hands. It was a dirty, muddy, un-kept horse. She couldn’t tell if it was a white horse or a grey one.

“I’ll give you this horse for your journey.” Keal’tor said handing her the reins.

“Thank you very much.” Zail said as she mounted the horse and left the courtyard.

She didn’t know where to go; the army was her home and family. But that had been swiftly taken away from her. She thought about the army and the memory of why she had joined in the first place. The image of her adoptive mother, Violet, surged before her as well. Zail’s parents had been killed and Violet had taken her in. Zail decided to visit the battlefield where so many of her friends had died. As she progressed down the road the pungent smell of rotting flesh filled her nostrils. The horse bucked several times, protesting not to go any further. Zail pushed the horse onward. Moments later Zail pulled the horse to a halt as the battlefield became visible. Zail dismounted and tied the horse to a tree as she slowly progressed towards the battleground on foot. Her stomach turned as vomit filled her mouth; tears of sorrow soaked her face. Zail gathered herself up and entered the carnage.

There was something she had to do before she left this area forever. Zail had a flash of memory. Her commander had sent for her but she never made it to her commander. In past battles the commanders’ tent would be near the tree line, though the tent was no longer standing. Zail knew that the commander was dead but still she had to see for herself. She had to figure out why he wanted to see her. She carefully made her way to where the tent had once stood. As she walked over the rotting men, Zail tripped and fell into a pool of mud and expired blood. Zail jumped back onto her feet and wiped the bloody mud off of her face and hands. She looked around and there at her feet laid the commander.

Zail kneeled down beside his body and sighed. She examined his body and found a sword protruding from his abdomen. Zail tilted her head as something shiny caught her eye. Zail reached down as she dug into the mud and felt a flat, round, smooth object in her fingers. She pulled the object out of the mud and cleaned it off. It was a golden Medallion. The Medallion had an insignia of a green dragon on it. Zail had never seen anything like this before. Zail gazed at the Medallion for a moment before she noticed that the commander’s hand was curled up as if he was holding something. Zail put the Medallion in her pocket and unfolded the commander’s hand. Inside his hand was a piece of paper. Zail unraveled the paper and read it.

Zail if you are reading this then I am dead along with the rest of my army. I need

you to do something for me. You will find in my hand a golden Medallion, take it.

What you need to do is bring this Medallion to a man named Wazore. You must go

south to a town called Octall, there Wazore will find you. You must hurry; we cannot

waste any more time and tell him Sobrin sent you.

Zail read the note several times to make sure she was reading it right. Zail found the whole note very odd. The names Wazore and the commander claiming to be Sobrin were mind boggling. Violet had told Zail stories of Wazore the disciple of Dalgot and the three brothers who killed Zathiria. Zail thought they were only stories. She was confused.

Zail put the note in her pocket and went back up to her horse. She glanced back at the battlefield, closed her eyes and closed that chapter in her life. Zail mounted the horse and headed off down the road. Zail pondered the note and how Sobrin said to go to Octall, but Zail was unsure about this. She needed someone to talk to, she needed advice. She thought about it for a while. Since she left for the army three years ago Zail hadn’t seen anyone from her childhood in many years, she hadn’t seen Violet in many years. She knew Violet would find the note and the Medallion very interesting.

Zail continued down the road until it split and went in two different directions. The right road went to the Town of Ama and the left road went to the Farmlands. Zail couldn’t wait to see Violet again; she couldn’t wait to see that farm she called home for so many years again. It was mid-afternoon when she approached the gates of the farm. She stopped outside of the gate and waited for it to open. The gates slowly opened and revealed a short plump elderly man.

“Who is it? What is your business here, speak up!” He declared. Zail looked down at him for a moment.

“Go get Violet and tell her Zail has come home.” She said to the man as he scampered off into the courtyard. Minutes later Zail could see Violet running towards her from the kitchens with her arms outstretched and tears on her face. Zail dismounted and went to Violet with a smile on her face and happiness in her heart as they embraced in a hug.

“Well…it’s about time you came home young lady. Where have you been?” Violet said through tears and her joy of having Zail back home.

“Oh, I have so much to tell you Violet.” Zail said looking into those wise eyes she had known since she was a child; Violet hadn’t changed at all. As they walked through the farm’s courtyard young children played, goats foraged for food, and dogs chased the farm cats. Memories of when she was a young girl flooded her mind as she walked next to Violet.

Zail could smell a meal being prepared in the kitchen. The sound of women’s voices echoed from the kitchen out into the courtyard. They were disagreeing about what to make, how to make it, what to put in it and so on. They walked past the kitchen, through the food stock room, and into the servants building. They entered the building and the sound of kids roaming the halls and mom’s giving orders to their children vibrated through the halls as they ascended the staircase to Violet’s quarters. Violet’s quarters were the biggest and nicest quarters in the building because of her seniority among the other servants. The interior walls of Violet’s quarters were of solid pine wood and the sweat aroma of the wood filled the room. The first room was dimly lit by candles, and the sunshine helped to lighten the room a bit. There was a bed on the far side of the room against the wall with night stands and a very large chest at the end of the bed. In the second room was a small kitchen area with a small cast iron stove and a table and shelving. Zail went to a third room, her bedroom and put her bags down. She then joined Violet in the kitchen.

“So Zail tell me what you have been up to these past years.” Violet said pouring them tea and sitting across from her adoptive daughter. Violet knew that Zail had joined the army shortly after leaving the farm but she also knew that there was another reason why she had left. Violet sipped her tea and watched the young woman in front of her, there was something on Zail’s mind.

Zail sat with her tea for a moment as she held the note from Sobrin in her pocket. She was fumbling with the idea of telling Violet, why shouldn’t she tell her?

“Violet, I want to show you something.” She said pulling the note out of her pocket and gave it to Violet.

“I was wounded in battle and the local villagers healed me. When I was feeling well I went back to the battlegrounds and went looking for my commander. Underneath his body I found this note.” Zail explained to her. Violet’s eyes widened and then slowly migrated down towards the note. She read it carefully and once finished looked up at Zail curiously.

“Where is the Medallion Zail?” Zail shifted in her chair as her suspicions of the Medallion grew even more. Violet didn’t need to say anything for Zail to know that the Medallion was more than just a fancy piece of jewelry. Zail slowly lifted the Medallion out from her shirt pocket. The Medallion hung from her hand as a soft green light started to emit from it. Violet sat back and let out a slight gasp. Her face had gone a ghostly white and her eyes were fixated on the Medallion.

“Violet, what is the matter?” Zail asked her. Violet stood and looked out the window.

“Zail, ever since you came to me I knew you were different, special, and unique.” Violet told her. Zail sat back in her chair as she listened.

“The letter you found is devastating. Sobrin was a fine man and was a very important part of the war against Zathiria. Not only that but he was a dear friend.” Violet said turning to face Zail; her face was wet with tears.

“Now the Medallion you found, is extremely important and I need you to listen carefully to me.”

“Alright, but I don’t understand….”

“If you listen then you will understand.” Zail didn’t like the tone Violet took with her.

“The Medallion is no ordinary Medallion, it as well has a very important part in everything and it is very valuable and must be kept a secret. You know of the story of Dalgot and the forging of his powerful Medallion?” Violet asked her. Zail tilted her head and touched the golden jewel.

“Yes, of course I do. You told me that story every night before bed. Why?”

“Well, it is no story. The Medallion you possess is Dalgot’s. You remember the curse he put on it?”

“Only one human at a time is allowed to hold it and is given the duty of protecting the Medallion at all times. This person is called the Guardian, and this responsibility is passed down in the family; a family line that Dalgot himself chose to guard his possession. But if anyone but this Guardian or Dalgot touched the Medallion they would die.” Zail looked white eyed up at Violet and found she could hardly breathe any more. It was as if all the air in her lungs just seemed to seep out slowly. Could her childhood stories really be true? Had she been lied to her entire life, her childhood now seemed as if it had been shrouded in lies and secrets.

“Violet….I don’t understand….how can this be?” Zail managed to say through her fear and hurt emotions. Violet sat down and held Zail’s hands.

“I apologize for keeping this from you. I had to keep you in the dark until I knew the right moment.” Violet closed her eyes and sighed.

“Eighteen years ago, there was a terrible war between Gellith and Sovane. Sovane was also a Guardian of the Medallion and Gellith killed him in that war. Gellith then went to Sovane’s home and killed off his entire family. I was passing through that part with my master and we saw the burning house and rescued Sovane’s baby daughter; Sovane’s only surviving heir.” Violet said peering deep into Zail’s eyes.

“What do you mean by your master Violet?” Violet squeezed Zail’s hands even harder.

“I am a sorceress, and my master’s name is Wazore. We are prophets for Dalgot and we go wherever he guides us to, we protect those who need protecting and we serve our god, country and people with our life. That day eighteen years ago Dalgot guided us to you and told me to protect and hid you from the world for as long as I needed to. You Zail are Sovane’s daughter and the new Guardian of the Medallion.” Violet told her. Zail felt her checks flush with anger, and her temper rose and then it was sullied by another emotion, happiness. But that was soon replaced by shock and surprise. Zail looked out across the table at the woman she considered a mother and she suddenly took on a new light. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Violet…thank you for telling me this. I am glad to know who I am. I have a few questions though.”

“Alright ask away. I am glad that you are taking this so well.”

“If Sovane and his two brothers were the ones who killed Zathiria in the battle of Deglume how is it that Sovane was killed eighteen years ago? Plus he is immortal so how is it that he was killed?” Zail had so many different questions running through her head about herself, her family, Violet and her master, and of course Dalgot. But one thing at a time was her feeling. Zail could feel her emotions settling now as Violet answered her questions.

“Well in the past few years Gellith has become increasingly strong and determined to finish off your family. Gellith, I don’t know how or where he found it, found a weapon that is able to kill an immortal. That is how he killed Sovane, with his weapon. This weapon of his is one of the only ways an immortal can be killed.” Violet told her. Zail sat back in her chair and ran her finger across the Medallion. Zail thought about the Medallion and what it meant to her now that she was the Guardian. She didn’t want this, she didn’t choose to be this, how can Violet expect her to do this after lying to her all her childhood. Zail looked up at Violet as she put it on the table and slid it towards Violet.

“I don’t want this, I won’t do it. You tell me that all I was told when I was a child is a lie, and now you want me to be this person that I am not. I cannot do this Violet; I don’t even know what to do with this.” Zail said standing up. “Why did you keep all of this from me until now?” She asked quietly as she turned to face Violet.

“Zail, I cannot tell you how many times I wanted to tell you all of this, but I couldn’t. It was for your safety, if Gellith or anyone who worked for him found you; then they wouldn’t know who you were. Whether you want this or not I can understand how you feel, but you cannot turn your responsibilities down or run away from who you are.” Violet said walking over to her. Zail could feel her eyes getting wet with tears.

“Violet….” Was all she could manage to say.

A few hours later they prepared a small dinner for themselves. They cooked chicken, with some potatoes and some vegetables. They prepared their dinner in silence. Zail had been quiet ever since their conversation earlier, though Violet tried many times to get her to speak with no such luck. Once the meal was cooked they served themselves and sat down at the table. Halfway through the meal Zail looked over at Violet and spoke to her.

“Violet, your master…Wazore, where is he at the moment?” She asked. Violet sighed and put her hands in her lap.

“I could not say, but I do know this; that he will be coming here for his yearly visit to the farm. Why?” She asked.

“I was merely wondering. But what does it mean for me now that I am the guardian?” Zail questioned.

“Well it means that your life is going to be changing drastically over the next few years, and you will have to do things you may not like.” Violet told her. “You will also have to learn new things you never thought were real and you will now be responsible for many different people. Dalgot will also play a big part in your future as well.” Violet finished.

“I see.” Zail said turning her attention back to her chicken.

Chapter Three

Zail sat in her room reading scrolls of gods, tales of magic and dragons. These were scrolls Violet had given to her when she was a child. Ever since yesterday Zail had suddenly found herself obsessed with the mystics of what Violet told her. And if what Violet had told her was true. She found that throughout all the stories she read Wazore popped up several times, he was always the mysterious teacher, the person who helped guide someone or he was the one who saved the day. The other set of stories that intrigued her were that of the mighty dragons of the old world and the Dragoniers of the new world. Dragoniers were people who had bonded with a dragon and once bonded you were together, either until death took you or the dragon. The Dragoniers were a peace keeping force in the new world and they met their end with the rise of Zathiria.

For the next few days all Zail did was read scrolls and think about how her life was about to drastically change, in a way she never thought possible. She even found herself hating Violet for revealing to her, her true identity. Zail found herself regretting ever looking for Sobrin and finding the Medallion. It started to rain one night after Zail had finished reading a scroll about a Dragonier who helped save a village from a group of trolls. The rain drops pounded on the metal roof and the wind blew the rain drops into the glass. It sounded like a sword and shield clashing in a mighty battle. She sat on her bed listening to the rain in its perpetual dance; she slowly slipped into a deep slumber. Her dreams were that of old battles passed, of all the men who had died next to her and of dragons from her scrolls. How she wished she could have seen the dragons back when they were alive and that she could have been a Dragonier.

Zails’ deep slumber took her places she never thought possible. Into the high sky on the back of a beautiful green Dragon with scales that shined so bright in the sunshine, into battles not yet fought and then of a small library filled with books and scrolls. There were candles hanging from book shelves that lit the library. Zail walked over to one of the shelves and looked at all of the scrolls on the shelf, one caught her eye. The paper was badly worn out and the color of the wood was a very deep red. She reached out to pull it off the shelf when she heard someone behind her. A voice called to her.

“Zail please do not touch the scrolls.” The deep raspy voice said. Zail spun around. Standing in front of her was a tall, lean, elderly man dressed in green robes. The man had a very long white beard. He held a tall wooden staff in his left hand; he stood staring at Zail. Zail stood looking back at him for a moment. She suddenly realized she was not dreaming. Fear struck her heart, where was she, who was the man?

“Who are you, where am I?” Zail asked as her gaze deepened. He stared back at her and smiled.

“I am someone you will learn to trust and someday call me a friend. Though you might find this concept a bit odd, but I do not go by a name. I am a thing, I am the Medallion.” He said bowing. Zail stumbled backwards a bit as she thought it through and found herself almost laughing at him but stopped.

“What do you take me as a fool, old man? How can a Jewel be alive?” She asked him. He looked at her for a bit.

“You have learned so many new things recently. Of things you never thought real, of the gods, magic, and dragons. Yet you think a simple jewel made by a god cannot have a soul? How foolish you are, and to think you are the one who has to protect me. Yet I see hope for you, I think.” He said sitting down in a red chair by a book self. Zail was about to say something back to him but didn’t as she thought about what he had said to her. She had learned many new things recently. She found a chair as well and sat down across from him.

“Alright let’s say I believe you, how is it that you are you. I mean how is it that you can form this place and the form you take?” Zail asked.

“When Dalgot was forging me he infused me with part of his life source and from that I was then able to form a personality, a shape, and emotions. Though what you see in front of you took several thousands of years to form. Every time Dalgot or a Guardian wore me I would learn things about magic, the world and many other things. You must understand that I am always learning and always changing. I can feel a struggle within you and you must not think of me as a burden but as an honor from the gods. I will be nothing more than a quiet voice you can talk to or take advice from. I am a gift and I was given to you. Zail you must protect me, you must for the sake of all that is good in this world.” He leaned forward in his chair. Zail absorbed what he told her.

The Medallion was right, it was an honor to be the Guardian of Dalgot’s Medallion and she was going to protect him from Zathiria with everything she had. She knew what she had to do now.

“I will not be able to do this on my own; I will need your help.” She said.

“Of course you will. Now these scrolls and books are the accumulation of all that I have learned over the years and they are here for you to read as well. Whatever you seek to learn I will help you or my scrolls will.”

“Thank you.” She said turning to look at the aged scroll on the shelf. She stood and pulled it from the shelf.

“What of this one?” She asked rolling the scroll in her hands. The Medallion sat back in his chair and shut his eyes as he sighed.

“Ah, that scroll is one of my oldest here. It is a history of the Elves and how the Dragoniers came to be. You should read it, it is very interesting.” He said to her.

“Thank you. I was wondering; when I leave this place how is it that I can find my way back here?” She asked.

“It is simple, just visualize the library and use your mind to make it real and it will be.” He said to her. Zail smiled and began to read the scroll.

She spent hours in the Medallion’s library reading scrolls of things she never thought possible. These scrolls were filled with information of all sorts of things, they were better than Violet’s scrolls. The one scroll that Zail found the most interesting was one of the God Zathiria. The scroll was of her travels, of how she came to be evil and how she tried to steal the Medallion. The Medallion was so young then, he didn’t know what was going on. Wazore and the three immortal men played a big part in helping to locate, retrieve and hide the Medallion. In-between reading the scrolls, Zail and the Medallion talked about her life, what she had done as a child and how she felt about being the Guardian.

“You know I always wondered why there were so many stories of the Gods, Wazore, and the immortal men. Now I know why, because all those stories are true. I just never thought that someday I would be writing my own fascinating story. I mean I am making history right now as I sit here talking with you.” She said sitting back in her chair. The Medallion smiled at her.

“You will notice that the further you go in your life the more you will be in history, no longer writing it but rather living it.” He said. “How many scrolls have you read now?”

“I have read so many I have lost count. Most of the shelf behind me; which consists mostly of the three immortal men and Wazore. They are very interesting and informative.” Zail said placing a scroll back on the shelf.

“I have been wondering and don’t know if you would like to do this or not, but it won’t hurt to ask. I was wondering if you would like to be called something other than The Medallion?” She asked. He looked at her for a moment.

“What would I call myself if not the Medallion?” He asked her.

“I do not know, it was a silly thing to ask anyway.” She said.

“No, it was a good idea. I will think about it and will get back to you. I need to be alone now for a while. I will see you when I am ready to tell you.” The Medallion said bowing. Zail bowed back and could feel the strange whooshing of her mind returning to her body. She sat up in her bed and looked outside, the sun shone brightly. She smiled and put on her boots as she went to the door to listen for Violet; she wasn’t inside. Zail made a hasty escape to the courtyard where she was greeted by many small children and a few dogs. She made her way through groups of people who were talking of the crops to be harvested, the crops to be sowed, and animals to buy, sell, or slaughter. She wanted to go to the stables to see her horse, the stallion she was given at the town where she was being healed.

Zail finally made it to the stable doors and opened them, the sweet smell of horse, hay, and grain surged into her nose. A smiled crept upon her face. She walked down the aisle and looked in each stall till she found her stallion. He was lazily eating his hay when she came over to him. She whistled at him, he looked at her for a moment before turning back to his hay. His coat was spotted with brown grime and his mane and tail were dirty as well. She sighed and went to look for some soap to clean him. She located some and went back to find a halter. She put the halter on the stallion and led him outside to where there was a small water fountain. She tied him to a tree and placed some hay in front of him and began to wash him. She was humming to herself as she washed and rubbed the dirt from the stallion’s body, mane and tail.

“You know, I don’t think you have a name. Well if you do have a name I don’t know it, so I will have to give you a new one. What do you think of that?” She asked him, he stopped munching for a moment and looked at her, he returned to his hay.

“You are no help. Well let’s see, you are white and have the potential to be a good looking stallion when clean. You might even make a good breeding horse.” She thought for a minute.

“How about Roaring Water? No.” The horse didn’t do anything.

“Mighty Hooves? Nope. Umm……I got it, how about Gisterio?” The Stallion looked at her and snorted. Zail smiled.

“Alright, your new name is Gisterio; I like it.” She said wiping the wet horse down.

Zail brought Gisterio back inside and gave him some more hay before leaving him. On a last thought she went and found the stable manager.

“Excuse me? I am Zail, Violet’s daughter. I have a horse in the stables and would like to make him a breeder. I would also like to have a name plaque put on his stall door.” Zail asked. The stable manager was a stout woman with long brown hair draping from her shoulders, and her eyes were small and fierce looking. The woman scratched herself and walked over to Zail.

“I know who Violet is and she is nice, you seem like a sensible young woman. Let’s go see that horse of yours and we will go from there.” They walked down to Gisterio’s stall. The manager opened the stall door and had Zail bring him out into the aisle. The manager walked about Gisterio and felt his body, his legs, looked at his eyes, his mouth and extended his legs and made him trot back and forth several times. By the time the manager stopped her exam sweat was dripping from Zail.

“What is his name?” The woman asked. Zail straightened and looked at the manager.

“His name is Gisterio.” Zail said proudly. The manager cocked her head and touched the stallion’s head.

“He is one of the finest specimens I have seen in a long time. He is an amazing horse, where did you get him?” She asked.

“From a friend. Do you think he would be a good breeder?” Zail asked anxiously.

“Oh without a doubt he would throw some amazing foals. I actually have a mare in heat at the moment and I had no proper breeding stallion until now. Would you like to make your first transaction with your Gisterio?” The manager said holding out her hand. Zail bit her lip and shook the woman’s hand.

“Great, I will pay you 500 gold coins for him once the foal is born. That way there is no arguing over reimbursement of his stud fee if the foal is stillborn. Now let me show you the mare I want to breed.” They put Gisterio back in his stall. They went to a smaller barn outside which was separate from the main barn. The manager opened the door and walked to the first stall. Inside was a gorgeous black mare with the longest tail and mane Zail had even seen. The mare’s head was long and wide with eyes that pierced your soul. Her nostrils flared and her tail flickered. The mare was well built and had sturdy legs and hooves.

“What do you think of her?” The manager asked.

“I think she is beautiful. What is her name?” Zail asked.

“Her name is Fire Haven. Her father was a great war horse and her mother pulled the catapults into battle. She is 10 years old and has had many great foals but this one will be the greatest she has ever had. Now let’s get these two horses together.” The manager said.

Zail went back to Gisterio and put his halter and lead rope on and led him out to a back pasture where Fire Haven was. The wind blew and once the smell of Fire Haven hit Gisterios’ nose he began to act crazed and out of his mind. Zail tried to calm him but with no luck. The barn manager came over and took Gisterio from Zail and ran him over to the pasture and let him free with Fire Haven. The two women leaned on the fence and watched as the two horses ran around the pasture.

“Come we will leave them together for the night, but for now lets get a drink.” The manager said clapping Zail on the back. They walked back to the stable and went up into the managers’ office where there was a small table and chairs. Zail sat down and the manager went over to a bookshelf. She pulled out a large glass bottle filled with brown liquid and two glass cups. She filled the cups with the brown liquid and gave a cup to Zail.

“Thank you. This is silly but I don’t even know your name?” Zail asked, the woman laughed.

“How foolish of me, my name is Sara. Now here’s to the hopes of a great new foal and lots of stud fees for you and to a great tomorrow and the end of the war.” Sara said raising her glass into the air, Zail raised hers as well. They touched their glasses and drank. They drank and talked about how to properly breed horses, how much it cost to keep a horse, the economy, and then finally the war and how it affected the horse market. By the time Zail left the stable it was well into the night and Zail was seeing doubles of everything and could barely walk. Zail outstretched her hand to open the door to the servant building and missed the handle several times before she finally grabbed the handle and twisted it open. The door flung open and hit the wall as Zail fell down on the floor. She slowly picked herself back up and crawled up the stairs to Violet’s quarters. Once at the top of the stairs Zail hardly managed to stand up and open the door. The door swung open and Violet was sitting on her bed reading a book when Zail stumbled in. Violet looked up at her and gasped, she ran over to Zail and helped her to stand.

“Where have you been all day? And how much have you drank tonight?” Violet asked as they made their way to Zail’s room. Zail smiled and burped.

“Gisterio is great……………lots of money and I had a lot to drink tonight. Have you met Sara, she’s nice. Oh Violet I want a cookie and some milk. You’re pretty. Why do you have eight eyes?” Zail stumbled on as Violet lay her down on her bed.

“Good night Zail. We will talk in the morning.” Violet said putting a blanket over Zail and left the room.

Zail rolled over in her bed as the bright sun shined in her sore eyes. She groaned and shoved her face into her pillow and sighed. Her head was killing her and her eyes felt as if they would fall out of their sockets. She heard the door open and the sound of the metal knob on the wooden wall made her head ache even more. She slowly rolled over and sat up with her eyes closed.

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