The Torque of Kernow
Shyre, a young farmer, is representing his village at the ten-yearly contest of champions, to determine the Grand Champion of All Kernow. The contest is disrupted by the arrival of two figures on a travel-weary pony. One of them is dead; the other in sorry condition. They report on the unexpected attack on their hometown by the Death Guard. The Guard is made up of Vrools and Voki, servants of the mysterious Zobort, lord of the northern stretches of Kernow.
A number of the Champions determine to set off and investigate. The group consists of Shyre; Sannungor, an old soldier from the Warrior College; Keyran, a beautiful black-skinned threll; Ozal, a trelf (tree elf); Yost, a dwarf; Lemal, a healer; and Tage, a shape-shifter.
It transpires that Zobort has uncovered a clue to the whereabouts of the long lost Torque of Kernow. It is said that "Whoever finds the Torque shall wear it and whoever wears the Torque rules Kernow." It is agreed that no one wants Zobort to rule Kernow so a race develops between the dark lord and the band of champions, to see who will be first to find the jewel.
A series of clues is discovered, left by the ancient wizard Woadeen. Woadeen had stumbled upon the Torque many centuries before and had re-hidden it, leaving the riddles to point to its new hiding place. He believed that in this way rather than the Torque being happened upon accidentally, it would be tracked down by someone proving themselves worthy of wearing the jewel and of ruling Kernow.
Trials and tribulations include battles with the Vrools, meetings with a wizard, entry into a dragon's lair, betrayal by seeming friends, actions by the forces of nature and by strange but deadly creatures. Along the way, Zobort is always working against the companions.
There is an unexpected ending to the story.
This is but the first of "The Chronicles of Kernow."
In the chronicles, Kernow and Elbra are countries in Asterra. Kernow is bordered by Keymruh and Therlass. These names are based on England's Cornwall (Kernow) and surrounds. The old name for Wales was Khymru, for Devon was Thurless, and for Scotland was Alba. The map depicting Kernow in the chronicles has been developed based very loosely on this geographical area.
A full Kernoan language - referred to as "the ancient tongue" - has been developed, based on Cornish, with variations for Elvish and Dwarvish.
Excerpt
It was
long after midnight when Sannungor halted the party. They stood still,
straining their ears. Then they all heard it: a rhythmic beating of wings. Some
huge creature was flying toward them.
“Must be
a pterawl,” Shyre whispered.
Sannungor
grunted. As the sound of the beating wings drew closer, the ponies became
restless and difficult to contain.
“We’d
best dismount and comfort them,” said Keyran.
They all
got down and moved to hold their ponies’ heads, to soothe them. But as the
pterawl drew nearer, the animals whinnied and tugged to get free.
“Hold
them!” said Sannungor. “And try to keep them quiet.”
They
pulled the ponies around to form a circle, facing inward, hoping they would
find comfort in each other. Suddenly Yost’s mount reared up and swung away. The
dwarf lost the reins but grabbed at the saddle. As the pony reared again, the
girth-strap broke and Yost, saddle and gear, fell in a heap on the ground. The
pony galloped away into the night.
“Are you
all right, Yost?” Shyre called.
The
Brisling got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Gods take that daisy-eater!”
he said. “Yes, Shyre, thank you. I am fine.”
“Ssh!”
Sannungor hushed them.
They all
– even the ponies – became still and silent as the pterawl drew level with
where they stood. Though the night was virtually without light, they were just
able to make out the baleful black silhouette of the huge winged beast as it
flew past them, slightly to one side and at the height of a tree. They remained
transfixed, listening, as the steady beat of the wings receded into the
distance. Finally Ozal let out the deep breath he had been holding.
“Whew!
Did you see the size of that thing? It must have been as big as a couple of
plow horses.”
“Amazing!”
Yost said. “I had heard of the reptiles but never believed I would ever live to
see one.”
“Did you
see the length of that beak?” Keyran asked.
“Quiet!
Quiet!” said Shyre. “Yes, it was amazing, but we don’t know if there are any
more of them around, or just where the Vrools are. Let’s keep as quiet as
possible and move on.”
They
started walking, leading the ponies. Yost abandoned his saddle and threw his
gear up on the back of Ozal’s mount.
“I can
see, now, how they caught up with us at West Woods,” said Sannungor, as they
labored up a slight rise. “Three or four Vrools could fit on the back of one of
those things with no trouble at all. Just a half dozen reptiles could have
brought a score of the Death Guard to those woods.”
“Or just
a couple of them could have ferried back and forth,” suggested Keyran.
“Think
you they spotted us, just now?” Lēmal sounded frightened.
“No, I
don’t.” Shyre tried to reassure her. “If whoever was on its back had spotted
us, they’d have swung around back to the others, or given some sort of
indication.”
“Right!”
Sannungor nodded. “We were lucky. Very lucky. Let’s hope that luck continues to
hold.”
As they
moved on across the plain, the warrior found himself constantly keeping an ear
cocked for the sound of beating wings. He wasn’t used to an airborne enemy and
it worried him.
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