The Adventures of Brandar Odaron
Book 1: The Hidden Continent
Chapter 1 Brandar’s Youth
Know that I am a Wizard. And one, some say, of great fame. My name is Maneldor, and I hail from the City of Romin in Andaria, where are the well-known Palaklar, the greatest weapons the world has ever known; many of which I myself have fashioned for use in the defense of this proud and noble realm. For this is the land of my birth, and the home of my heart, and in my day has become the greatest of the Kingdoms of Men.
I was here in Romin when the Northrons of Rillguman arrived in Andaria after being driven with much loss from their land in the First Invasion from the West. Forsooth, I was there to hear the first telling of how the young Chieftain Odar and the fair princess Elloeth led through sorrowful trial and dire misfortune the weary Remnant of the embattled and destitute Northrons from the destruction of their homeland; once right numerous clans, coming to us then as but a handful of refugees, ragged and careworn. And I loved Odar and Elloeth as my dearest of friends, and likewise all of their kith and kin, and all of their progeny throughout their swift and bittersweet years. And it was I who convinced the King in those days, Thoron Dol, to name Odar the Honorary King of the Northrons of Romin, though it would be Odar’s people who came to call him Odar the Old, so long did he live; a seeming wondrous thing, in which I secretly played a part.
Terrible indeed was that First Invasion. And many good folk were lost therein. But we won, after many years, by the magicks set within the first of the Palaklar given into the hands of the Rangers on the Marches. And those weapons served us well for many generations, as they ensured the peace that followed the war.
In time, however, MorLome launched his Second Invasion, more terrible than the First, and where all of Andaria was surrounded by uncounted Durwolc, and assailed by evil Dragons, and beset by Giants of many kinds, and plagued by other foul monsters. But due to the powers of the Palaklar, and other magicks of my own protecting the City, and the ferocity of the Northrons, we halted the enemy advance. Then great armies of Dwarves came to our aid from the Ice Mountains north and the Anaurians east. And that turned the tide, so that together we drove the enemy into the south, and then to the west. But the peace that followed lasted only one generation of Men, after which the Sorcerer of Kaivar sent forth his Third Invasion, in which the Durwolc and Dragons, and Giants and many other monsters, came against us as before, but here were they commanded by users of magic of all sorts, even among Durwolc. And there were swarms of Men from both the West and the South, with Mages of their own. And we were hard pressed to keep the enemy from defeating us.
Yet, again by the Palaklar and by my other magicks, and those of my fellow Wizards, we stayed the assault, and forced the enemy to make encampments all around the Valley of Niehosc, though they later managed to come down from the Cliffs East, to as close in as half a league from the City of Romin. And so long was this stalemate to remain that it came to be called the Long Siege.
Years did that siege last, and drained steadily the strength of the kingdom. And it was during this siege that there arose from the Dunjilar the hero Brandar Odaron, right heir of Odar the Old, and thus in line to be High Chieftain of the Northrons, but which folk were all by then being called Dunjilarians.
Much there is to say about Brandar, who would come to be called the greatest adventurer in the AforeTime of Men. A slayer of evil Dragons he was, bane of pirates, doom of Demons, and king by his own hand in the far land of legend Arzultaur, on the Hidden Continent, beyond the Enchanted Mists. Yet, here I give but an account of his youth, and his first daring deeds, ere he went off exploring upon the face of Esaereh.
Unlike most Northrons in Andaria, Brandar grew up in a large house in the area of the City of Romin that came to be called the Dunjil Quarter, which was that bit of land given to the Northron Remnant by Good King Thoron in the earliest days of the First Invasion, and around which area the northern parts of the City had later grown. Thus, as the son of Brodar Odaron, the High Chieftain and Honorary King of the Dunjilarians, supported by the King of Andaria, Brandar was considered rather spoiled, in those fearful days of the Siege. And mayhap this was true; for other Northron children dwelt in lowly houses, poor and untutored, as the Andarians had long ceased to view the Northons as refugees.
The Three Tribes had since been left to fend for themselves. Yet, no Northron beggar nor thief trod the dusty streets of our great City, while there were many such ones among Andarians. And in those days, many Dunjilarians had come to be counted among the greatest of the Wielders of the Palaklar on the Marches of Andaria, as they were natural warriors by stock and upbringing; for, by tradition, all of the men and not a few women of the Dunjilarians joined with the Rangers as soon as coming of age, and many achieved renown fighting Durwolc upon the Marches.
So it was with the young Brandar; raised in what remained known as The House of Odar. Above the great hearth of that old house were mounted the crossed swords of Odar and Elloeth which the two had wielded in leading the Remnant from Rillguman. And those blades yet bore the notches which they had put there in defense of their folk, for the swords had not seen battle since coming to Andaria. Odar himself set there the swords on the day of his betrothel to the beautiful Elloeth, and decreed that they should never be reforged. Thus, there they remained when Brandar was born.
Many times as a youth did Brandar’s mind wander as he gazed upon those revered brands, while his mother cooked meals in the hearth and his father was off fighting Durwolc in the Westmarch. Then would Brandar imagine that he wielded Odar’s blade in hard duels with Durwolc. And once he dreamed that he slew an evil Dragon, and in another fought grizzled pirates aboard a ship on the sea, which he had not yet seen, but had merely heard of it in tales. And in yet another he found himself doing battle upon some mystical land where trees grew as tall as mountains.
Then one night, as if it were a vision, he dreamt of himself as a full grown man, and in the dream slew a powerful Demon, then cast the creature’s body from an high tower of stone. Far down it fell into a great flaming mote, at which Brandar woke, soaked in sweat. But he spoke not of this to his parents, although he else often described his dreams to them.
Always did Brandar ask his parents about the lore of his people, and pestered all of his teachers and Elders with questions about foreign lands, and everything from history to magic. And in his bed chamber he collected piles of scrolls, and stacks of maps, and many small items from other places, like coins, and carven figures made of wood. But his most beloved treasure was a small knife of Dwarvish make which his father had given to him, saying: “Keep this blade secret and safe, as I now show you. And some day it may save you. Yea, even if all else is taken from you. Then shall you thank your old sire for this seeming smallest of gifts.” And Brodar showed him how to conceal the knife in a pouch which he must sew into the leg of his trousers, as Brodar himself does with a similar weapon. And he instructed Brandar to speak of it to no one, not even to his most trusted friends and lovers, nor even to his mother. And Brandar spoke of the little knife to no other soul until many long years had passed.
When Brandar was sixteen years of age, I chanced to speak with him, and told him, upon being questioned, of the Ghieveh, the Gods of Old, and their departing from Esaereh, where they had created the Enchanted Mists, far away, upon the Wide Yerhiesc, the Great Eastern Sea, from which Mists few who entered have ever returned. But I said not that I myself had done so, an Age apast. Yet, I now ken that my words then kindled an imperishable desire within his heart, to go himself and brave the Mists. For he said to me later: “I wished to see what lay beyond, if mortal man may dare, and seek those Gods; to boldly challenge them with all of my burning questions.” And while Bandar never met the spirit Powers he wished to confront all his days, verily did he enter the Enchanted Mists and returned from them, in the making of his Tale. But here I shall relate only that story which is called The Fall of Bitlawen, in which Brandar slew a mighty Winged Dragon as the first of his greatest achievements.
Brandar was but twelve years of age when his father Brodar fell in battle on the bloody fields of the Westmarch, during the Long Siege of the Third Invasion. Then did Brandar’s mother beg the Northron Elders to raise Brandar to be a mighty Chieftain. And so, Brandar had much in the way of training in the military arts, and lordly schooling, even at that age. But eveer did he excel at everything he tried. And ever was he the champion of all weaker but goodhearted youths, against bullies much taller than himself; winning any fight, even against many foes. So, he gained respect as a fighter from those days on, ever defending the good against the wicked. And he grew very tall, and right handsome, with the blonde hair of his clan.
At twenty years of age he joined the Rangers of the Westmarch, and because of his training proved himself many times fighting Durwolc, even at times upon the very field where his father had fallen. Thus, he rose swiftly through the ranks, becoming the youngest Captain of the Westmarch Rangers that had ever been. And ere long, he was hailed by all the men under his command as the best fighter they had ever seen.
There, he slew Gobba and Orgu, and Kobo and Gress, and the very greatest of Trollo, and all of the Men from Kaivar who came against him. And because of his prowess, he was made a Wielder of the Palaklar at a younger age than any of those days. For the Wielders could not remain afield at all times, growing weary from combat. Thus, men and women of proven skill were chosen to wield a given magical weapon, so that it could remain in battle while a worn Wielder rested. Hence, each Palaklar had five or more Wielders assigned to it, and Brandar became one of the chosen. But he would not rest while others fought, as would most Wielders. Rather, he wielded an ordinary sword in support of a fellow Wielder, or would take up some other task requested or commanded by his superiors. And in this way at length he found himself in command of a Company of mounted Rangers, two of which were close cousins to himself; men he had known since childhood, trained with, and with whom he was great friends. And their names were Alak and Daram.
Then came a time during the Long Siege that a Winged Dragon came to the Westmarch, and would fall from a great height upon the Rangers. But ere a sufficient attack could be made against him, he would fly away, only later to return and do the same once more, and again, and again. And this occurred for so many days that the Queen at that time, Idrisil Dol, the widow of a King who had fallen in the Southmarch, placed a bounty upon the head of the Dragon, who had been named Bitlawen by the Rangers of the Westmarch. And Brandar’s Company had twice been attacked by the beast, losing several men at each turn. So, Brandar swore openly before the Queen that he would win that bounty.
A plan he made with his men, whereby they would take out with them barbed hooks on the ends of ropes, and so prepared they rode bravely to set themselves up as bait.
Down the dark Bitlawen swooped, and slew two of Brandar’s men ere anything could be done to stop him. But the men threw their hooks and three took hold of the Dragon by its wings, while one caught its neck and another its hind leg. And while one man was pulled from his horse ere he could even tie the rope to his saddle-horn, the rest were able to secure the beast and keep it from flying off. Then the remaining Rangers attacked the beast with spears and swords, aiming mostly for its belly, as elsewhere was it covered with impenetrable scales. And in this way, after a very long fight, in which three men more were slain, the Dragon was wounded so sorely that it could no longer resist. Then did Brandar ride swiftly in and stabbed upward with his sword from beneath its lower jaw, cleaving its tongue and driving deep into its skull. Thus did it die, and so fell upon its side.
The surviving men of the company began to cheer Brandar, and clap him on the back, not noticing that a band of Gobba who had come close now fled upon witnessing the Dragon being slain. But Brandar bid his men mind their joy, because of those who had fallen. And he had them take the dead men to the City, from where their bodies would be sent to their families to be buried.
That is how Brandar won fame as a bane of Dragons, along with his cousins, Alak and Daram, who survived, and with the other surviving men of his company. But Brandar, having won the Queen’s bounty, divided it equally among them. Then also did Brandar become favored by the Queen and was heralded in all the land as the Hero who brought about The Fall of Bitlawen. But this was ere Brandar had become the right High Chieftain of the Dunjilarians of Andaria, though he was the heir of Odar. For that he must await a declaration by the Tribe's Elders.
Now can be told a thing which Brandar learned not until many years after, for he departed Andaria in secret, and went away East, as written in this tomb. And I myself only learned of it much later, during questioning of a Kaivarian captured in battle. But some time after Brandar had gone, MorLome heard of Brandar from his Generals, and from his Spies, who spoke of Brandar’s prowess, and of The Fall of Bitlawen. And so angered was the Sorcerer that he set a price of his own upon Brandar’s head. Yet, none were ever to claim it, for Brandar returned not to Andaria until the end of the Fourth Invasion, many generations after the hard won end of the Long Siege.
This therefore ends the Tell of Brandar’s Youth, and of his first deed of fame in the dire days of the Third Invasion, wherein he earned, in addition to being a Wielder, the title of Hero of the Westmarch, for becoming a Dragon-Slayer.