The Story of Dalmar: The Arms of Darkness

"Dalmar..."

Dalmar's consciousness broke through the blackness that had surrounded him for what seemed to be days, and a tiny, soft voice pierced it like a sliver of bright light.

"Dalmar, wake up. Here, eat." Dalmar's eyes began to flutter as his eyes opened, and the blurry yellow figure slowly came into view revealing the red-headed woman he remembered from the forest. She handed him a large piece of brown bread obviously torn from a larger loaf, and a small fish that had met its demise a while ago. She then produced a small pewter urn of water, set it at his side, and smiled warmly at him as he grabbed the fish and bread. His shoulder throbbed as he reached to feel of it, and he soon found his wound to have been dressed and the arrow removed. "Careful, it's going to hurt for a while, but you'll need to change those dressings in a while, so don't drink all your water" she said.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Dalmar asked as he sat upright, wincing from the pain as he instinctively put pressure on his arm and hand to support himself.

"My name is Alana. You are safe, Dalmar. Rest. Eat." she replied.

"Where is this place? Where's the Orc?" Dalmar fired back at Alana.

"What Orc? There's no Orcs here." Alana answered as she stood up and crossed her hands. Dalmar scanned his surroundings, his eyes falling upon the small cell of blackened stone struck by the daylight coming in from the barred portal in the wall. Alana noticed his curiosity and his growing distemper, and interrupted Dalmar's train of thought. "It's not what you think, Dalmar. You are free to go anytime you wish. In fact, Xander is expecting you" she said.

"Xander, who is that? Is he the Orc?" Dalmar asked.

"I told you, there are no Orcs here. Xander is a man, and this is his place." Alana smiled again, and walked to the door. She opened the door, and turned towards Dalmar. "I told you, you are free to go. Would Orcs give you this freedom?" she addressed. Dalmar's eyebrow rose as he chewed the salty fish with the bread. "Finish your food, and we'll go see Xander." she said, and exited the door, closing it behind her. Dalmar stood up. Dalmar stuffed the rest of the fish in his mouth and listened for the clicking of a lock or latch, but the door swung slightly ajar, squeaking as the hinge turned. He bent down and picked up the urn, careful to not lose his gaze upon the door as he gulped the water. Dalmar thought Alana seemed reasonable, and began to wonder if perhaps his memory was clouded by the pain in his shoulder. Dalmar set the urn back on the floor in case he needed it later. Either way, he felt himself to be more than a match for Alana should things turn afoul of current appearances, and followed Alana out through the door as he swallowed the last bit of bread.

Dalmar stepped out into the stone hallway lit with strange flickering orbs of light that danced off the sienna colored walls of the corridor. Dalmar looked to his left as saw several armed men walking the corridor and adjoining passages. Looking to his right, he saw Alana standing in place and smiling at him, and a grand set of double doors behind her resting in the hallway like an ominous beast barring further passage. Alana turned, and grasped the large iron ring on one of the doors and twisted it as the mechanism on the door slid open. The door unlocked with a large echo trailing through the hall, and she opened the door by placing both her hands flat and pressing her body to the door to swing it open. The door creaked as it opened, and Alana turned back around to address Dalmar once again. "Go on in, Dalmar. Xander is waiting for you." she said.

"Where are you going to be?" Dalmar said as he smiled. Dalmar realized he he hadn't concerned himself with his belongings, and he patted his side where his scabbard dangled. Yeah, his sword was still there. His quiver was gone, and so was his bow. Whoever took his bow and quiver must not have been terribly concerned of his potential for rebellion, but his sword made him a bit more comfortable, nonetheless, about entering the large doorway. Dalmar decided that the patient approach was best in this apparent situation, and he walked through the doorway leaving the last of his vision on Alana as she pulled the door that closed behind her. Dalmar turned around, and found himself to be in a round room with a large opening in the top about thirty or forty feet above his head. He could feel the wind whisking into the room through large windows that overlooked the water's edge below. He quickly glanced out the window, and saw the tops of mountains and what he thought to be the tops of those same trees where he had spent several days before. In truth, Dalmar had no idea where he was, or whether or not he was even in Glorsheim anymore. His attention turned toward the middle of the room where a small black pedestal stood in the center of a mosaic upon the floor. Dalmar marveled at the craftsmanship of the floor that was shined to a polish, and set with black, brown, orange, and gold diamond-shaped slabs of stone. Upon the sturdy, elegant pedestal sat a single orb of crystal, pulsing with a strange green and yellow misty light that swirled within it.  Dalmar felt completely uneasy for the first time. He'd heard of powerful wizards before, but he never imagined that he would be involved with anything remotely interesting to one.

Xander stood in the center of the room beside the obsidian pedestal dressed in a form-fitting robe of mostly black with silver thread sewn into it. His primmed white and gray beard draped down the front of his body, and he stood with a lordly stance as he held his hands clasped behind him, and stared at Dalmar. Xander smiled. "Dalmar! So good to see you are well. How is your shoulder? Better, I hope?" he said. Dalmar decided the direct approach was more appropriate at this point.

"Much better now, thanks. But you've got me at a disadvantage. Why..." Dalmar said before he was interrupted by Xander.

"...are you here?" Xander smiled as he extended his hand ushering Dalmar nearer to himself. "I'm sorry, I know you must have plenty of questions. First of all, you are in Draftengil, my home. My men removed the arrow from your shoulder, and I can assure you that it will heal just fine in time. They were only protecting me, thinking that you were trying to do Alana and me harm." Xander walked over to a small stone table and poured some wine into a clear glass flute from a decanter. "Wine?" he asked of Dalmar. Dalmar thought at first to refuse, but soon reasoned to join Xander as wine seemed entirely delectable at this point.

"Why not?" Dalmar exclaimed as he threw his hands in the air in a careless gesture. Taking a sip of the wine, Dalmar asked "In the forest, I saw Orcs on the pathway with Alana. What happened to them?" Dalmar asked.

"I told you, Dalmar. My men were just protecting Alana and me. I admit you may have seen an Orc, but I can't very well say for sure. You see, people have a tendency to see what they want to see of me. What do you see now?" Xander's explanation left Dalmar with even more questions, and this unsettled Dalmar to some degree.

"I'm sorry, but I simply don't understand something. Are you suggesting the Orc I saw was you?" Dalmar queried of Xander.

"That is precisely what I think. What do you see now? Perhaps a short, fat old woman? Perhaps a tall thin elf? I really don't know, to be quite honest." Xander's voice presented no apparent instance of deception. Dalmar caught himself raising his eyebrow once again, and quickly lowered it. Maybe Xander didn't actually understand it as Dalmar, but only recognized that it happened.

"Well, today, you appear to be an old man. But if that is the case, why did you appear as an Orc to me?" Dalmar wondered of Xander. "And why does everyone know my name around here? I don't know anyone here, but everyone seems to know me." This question seemed to dangle out on a limb away from the other articles of current context. "Yes, why, indeed, does everyone know my name here?" he thought to himself.

"I couldn't tell you why you saw an Orc, Dalmar. Perhaps you were looking for Orcs at the time. Were you?" Xander asked. Maybe Xander wasn't as oblivious as Dalmar once thought. Reluctantly, Dalmar answered truthfully.

"Well, yes, sort of, actually." Dalmar stuttered.

"Well, then, there you go, my boy! As far as your name, that would be Alana's doing. She has far more sense about such things than I. She likely gleaned it from your mind. She's quite remarkable." Xander's voice lightened a bit when he talked of Alana, but quickly returned to the matter at hand.

"What do you mean Alana gleaned it from my mind?" Dalmar snapped.

"Alana's talent is that she can sometimes read the thoughts of others, and sometimes she can feel the feelings and emotions of others as if they were her own. She merely passed on the information, my boy." Xander smiled as he placed his hand on Dalmar's shoulder. Xander looked at Dalmar, smiling slightly as he took a sip of the wine. "But don't let that worry you, Dalmar. Let's fill you in on a few things. As a token of my taking responsibility for the unfortunate happenings to you and your person, I wish to give you something." Xander walked over towards the pedestal once more, letting his voice echo throughout the circular room as he stared briefly into the glowing orb. "Dalmar, there are things afoot that are greater than even you or me. I am but a vessel for the grander things between nations and even the world itself." Xander's tone changed, and he became more serious. This sudden change in Xander's voice began to give Dalmar the will to draw defense, yet intrigued him a bit.

"Just how long have I been here, Xander?" Dalmar began to wonder about his regiment. He had obviously never reached his destination, and surely didn't achieve his goal. The men were counting on his mission, and Dalmar began to fear the worst.

"Three days, Dalmar." Xander responded.

"Three days?! I've been lying on my back while my comrades marched into battle without word or knowing of what they were getting into? I've got to go back! Take me back to Balder!" Dalmar's realization of the worst set his blood on fire, and he began to look for a way out. He had to know whether or not the men he had served alongside were alive or not. He had to explain to the Captain what had happened. At this point, his loyalty to the men and duty took precedence, and he threw the wine glass down to the floor and marched to the door. Turning to Xander, Dalmar barked, "Xander, thanks you for the hospitality, but I'm afraid I must leave. I ask only that you show me the way to the place where we met."

"Oh, Dalmar! I'm afraid it's too late for that." Xander said as he sipped the wine calmly. His smug stance and gaze set Dalmar into a defensive demeanor.

"What do you mean, Xander? What have you done?" Dalmar's hand moved to the hilt of his sword and he walked over towards Xander. "Tell me, wizard. what happened in the forest of Balder?"

"Your men marched to meet with the other men of Thorfinn of Glorsheim, just as you would imagine. But when they got there, all they would have found were the bodies of their dead comrades and two-thousand Orcs. I'm afraid it did not end well. Your men were defeated quite easily." Xander reported this news without hesitation, and almost seemed proud of himself. This angered Dalmar. Xander didn't even seem to care.

"What?! How could this be? Your men could have warned them! You could have done something!" Dalmar's voice heightened as his anger flowed through his throat like a river of burning blood. Realizing that his own ignorance had cost his men their lives sent Dalmar into a rage. He did not get to the men in time. He did not warn his men of what was happening. He could have saved their lives. But Xander and his men prevented that from happening, and now they were lost. They had no chance. Dalmar's ire burst through his very being, and Dalmar drew his sword furiously. Xander dropped his flute as it shattered upon the ground, and fear suddenly overtook him as he beheld the rage painting Dalmar's face.

"Dalmar, what are you doing? Put down your sword, boy!" Xander trembled as he shouted these words, but Dalmar's ears fell deaf to his pleas.

"You let it happen, Xander! You prevented me, the only other one who could have prevented this needless slaughter, the chance to divert them. And for what? Who do you serve, Xander?!" Dalmar rushed towards Xander with his sword over his head. Xander seemed unmoved by the attacking Dalmar, raging with bloody fury to bring his demise. Xander placed his hand on the orb, and time once again seemed to slow down for Dalmar as the moment's tide began to swell.

"I only tried to help you, Dalmar. Such a shame. Such a shame....", Xander said as the green and yellow light escaped the orb and up the arm of the old man. With the other hand, Xander held it out at the the attacking soldier of Thorfinn. As Xander's eyes began to emit the same strange light, he shouted "Albr'th vahs shtrutha vahs!" and Dalmar found himself hurdling through the air, quickly climbing upwards. The scene down below rapidly disappearing as the opening in the skylight became clearer, Dalmar's heart raced in disbelief and the anger that boiled through his veins. The celiing of the great hall closed together at a point where allowed the open air to leak into the halls of Draftengil, Xander's palace.

Dalmar's body landed with a thud on a wide square platform high above the castle. Overlooking a great sea of black water, Dalmar was alone with the elements. A great gale of wind seemed to mock Dalmar's body as rain began to drape his body like the icy fingers of a banshee. The air crackled with dark clouds and strikes of lightning. To either side of the black stone platform was a vast void descending to the ground far below. One one side was the sea and its crags, the other the hard, uncaring earth that awaited his lifeless body below. Dalmar was trapped, only to face an uncertain doom at the hands of the impending rage of a storm. Perhaps Dalmar would simply be forgotten to starve or fall to his death. Dalmar became frantic, and shouted down the shaft through the ceiling of the great hall. "Xander! You cannot hide from me! I will come for you, and when I do, all the spells that demons concoct will not save you! You hear me, Xander?! I'm coming for you!" Dalmar paused with heavy breaths as his madness echoed downwards, but no answer returned. Draftengil, at once, fell silent to Dalmar, mocking him with its disconcern for his idle threats.

The dark nimbi rumbled mercilessly about Dalmar as he watched them turn over one another all bout him. They seemed to laugh at his dilemma, poking fun at his certain inevitable end. Dalmar sat on the platform, cold from the rain and in a state of despair as he looked out over the waves. As his rage subsided and his mind turned towards escape, Dalmar began to formulate ways to rid himself of this immediate problem. Then, as he looked out across the deathly waters, the lightning lit of a patch of sky, reflecting off the tops of the tiny waves below. For a moment, Dalmar thought he had seen something flying above the waves. The lightning broke the sky once again and lit up the dream-like object diving and rising in the stormy atmosphere. It then became a bit clearer for a moment. Dalmar's heart raced as he stood and braved the winds. He wiped the rain from his eyes and brushed his soaked hair from his face and stared again. Suddenly, the vision became clearer. It was a bird of some sort, a gigantic creature of feather and beak. What could this be? Dalmar stared at the creature tearing through the sky as its size grew larger and larger in Dalmar's line of sight. It was heading straight for him, effortlessly slicing through the clouds and rain. Then, all at once, it was upon him, and Dalmar shrieked at its humongous body. As the great beast swooped above him to bear its blood red breast of scale and feather, its gargantuan talons reached out and grasped Dalmar with a ferocity yet witnessed by Dalmar in all his days. Dalmar's body was as a pebble in its grasp, and his senses reeled as the force of the great bird climbed into the sky. Dalmar felt queazy, and he closed his eyes tight, fearful for what this beast had in store. With a great, thundering squawk, the mountainous eagle - as large as the castle's spire itself - turned in the air high above Draftengil, and headed over the open sea with Dalmar in its clutches. Like prison bars made of bone swords and dream, Dalmar grasped the great bird's claws and peered out over the water. The sweet wine he had sipped in Draftengil loosened itself from his stomach, and he sent it hurdling towards the blackness below. Dalmar fell backwards in the grasp of the great bird as his eyes rolled around in his head. His energy quickly seeped out through his mouth as he breathed heavily to keep from purging once again as the bird swooped up and down in the currents of air. As he did so, his eyes drooped, and the black clouds flashing with the energies that only gods control, the blackness soon melded into his own loss of consciousness. With one great shaking of its talons, the bird made a mighty screech once again, and Dalmar returned to the land of dream.