Adventure of Valornor Gladewarder 1

The Lord Commander stands in the doorway, half in torchlight, half in shadow. His hollow gaze fixes on Valornor, and the hall behind him stays dead quiet.

A faint violet pulse throbs from the blade at his hip. Frost beads along the doorframe, and the air tastes of ozone and rot.

The Lord Commander’s hand tightens on the hilt, as if fighting the urge to draw. He does not lunge. He seems to be holding something back, or being held.

Valornor breaks south at a sprint, boots hammering frost-hardened earth. The guard is left at the door as the hall shrinks behind him, violet light spilling through the open frame.

He puts distance between them, then wheels hard, plants his feet, and draws on the doorway.

His first arrow snaps across the square and strikes the Lord Commander high, forcing the man back into the threshold.

A second shaft follows almost at once, driving him deeper into the hall light as frost flakes from the doorframe.

The Talonford Guard flinches low beside the doorway, spear still raised, while inside the hall the violet glow pulses brighter around the wounded figure.

Valornor’s shout cuts across the square, raw and clear. The Talonford Guard snaps his head toward him, then the open hall, as the Lord Commander stumbles in the doorway with violet light crawling over his blade.

The guard’s face hardens. He surges up from his crouch and thrusts his spear toward the threshold, stepping into the line of attack instead of retreating.

From inside the hall, the wounded Lord Commander lifts his head. The violet sheen on his weapon flickers, and his grip tightens as if something else is pulling through his arm.

The guard’s shout carries farther than the square, and two more watchmen answer from the side street, hurrying in with drawn spears. Valornor’s throat burns from the force of the cry, but the warning has landed.

Valornor looses again. The arrow snaps across the frost-choked threshold and drives the Lord Commander back into the hall.

The wounded man jerks sideways, his violet blade dipping low. Dark blood beads at his side, and the glow on the weapon flickers hard.

The Talonford Guard advances a pace, spear leveled, while the open doors shed a cold wash of violet over the stones.

Behind them, one of the arriving watchmen skids to a halt at the edge of the square, staring at the hall as frost crawls farther across the lintel.

The words land hard, and the commander’s grip slips. His blade flashes dim violet, then guttering red at the edge of the light.

A drop of blood falls onto the frost and steams. The Talonford Guard tightens his spear, and the watchman at the square’s edge freezes at the sound of cracking ice under the threshold.

Valornor’s question is answered, but the cost bites at once, his drawn bowstring splits and snaps against his glove. Inside the doorway, the armored figure stands motionless in the violet wash, as if listening for the next move.

The guard lowers his spear a fraction, not in surrender, but in listening. The frost at the threshold still creeps, thin as breath on glass.

Inside the doorway, the armored figure shifts for the first time, just enough for violet light to catch the helm.

The guard glances from the commander to Valornor, jaw set, then gives a short, grim nod toward the square.

The guard pulls a folded token from his belt and flips it into Valornor's hand, a rough chalk mark on one side, a shrine seal on the other.

Inside the hall, the violet light gutters lower, and a cold draft spills out through the gap, carrying the smell of wet stone.

Find the hedge-wizard who left Talonford