This post is a response to the latest Invitational in the scholar and Scribe Community. You can read the full prompt HERE - the keys are for it to be in the fantasy genre with an heroic theme.
Hopefully this tale ticks both those boxes ! But I also wanted to show that not all heroic fantasy is medieval-themed, and it's not just knights in shining armour who rescue princesses.
This tale actually does double-duty. I've placed it in my D&D setting, but at the very cusp of the stone age becoming the bronze age. I'm starting to put together some lore so that in a little while I can run D&D games in my world's bronze age, and there's nothing better than starting with a proper origin story 😁
Enjoy !
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
It was the chime that woke Elasos. Someone was hammering frantically on the copper tube that hung in the centre of the village, outside King Bogras' roundhouse. He sat up abruptly, sleep driven out of him by the clamour. It could mean only one thing. Raiders !
Flinging open the door to his hut, Elasos surveyed the scene. It was almost dawn, that time when day battles night but was not yet strong enough to drive away the darkness. In the half-light, he could see human forms rushing around, smell the smoke of the first few huts set ablaze, and hear shouts and screams.
The beach held ten or more war-canoes. That meant the attackers numbered a hundred or more warriors. With the advantage of surprise, their victory was certain.
There was only one thing Elasos could think of doing. He flung his tools into a leather bag, slung it over his shoulder, and picked up the bronze sword he had almost finished making. Then he set off to get away.
In the centre of town, he could hear a loud roar; King Bogras' warcry. Cut off by the sound of clubs and axes hitting flesh. Their king has gone down fighting to defend his people and home.
Nearby he saw Akilos and Miraya, his friends. They saw him, looking his way with fear in their eyes, clearly uncertain what to do. "We must leave this place !" he called to them. "Come with me, my canoe is hidden in the creek."
With sword in hand and his friends following he set off towards the creek, a couple of hundred yards distant.
A figure stepped out in front of them. A warrior, clearly one of the raiders. He wore a leather banded jerkin, a white kilt wrapped around his waist with a broad black edging and tassels, and a leather helmet. The green-dyed feathers sprouting from it's top identified the enemy's origin; they were Telnoi. In his left hand he had a stout round leather-covered shield, and in his right a copper-headed duckbill axe.
Elasos was no warrior, but he knew what he had to do. The Telnoi warrior raised his axe almost nonchalantly. This veteran pirate would have seen just a youth with a bag over his shoulder. In the dawning half-light he didn't notice the slim bronze blade until it slid effortlessly through his leather jerkin. The man died without a sound and dropped to the ground.
Picking up the shield and helmet, Elasos ran onward towards his canoe and safety. On the way the small group picked up two more members, Cason and Yason, brothers each armed with a stone-headed club.
The small group of survivors huddled together in the canoe for four days as they paddled through rough seas to get away from the massacre. The meagre supplies of food, water and wine Elasos had kept in the boat were not enough but kept them alive.
Finally, they beached the water-logged craft on a strange shore. Starting inland, they found themselves in a grassy plain as far as the eye could see. They were no longer among the islands, that was for sure. In the distance they saw smoke, a single thin steamer rising into the cloudless sky.
The source of the smoke was a village. But a stranger one than they'd ever seen, because it had a low wall of grey stone all around it, surmounted by a stout palisade as tall as a man.
When they were still half a mile distant, a group of warriors with yellow plumes rose from the tall grass and levelled flint-tipped spears at them.
"Come," they said. That was all. Clearly they were not ones for long speeches.
The group of five were led into the village. At it's centre was a long, low wooden house, quite unlike the roundhouses they were used to. Before it was a cleared area, ringed with people, and at it's centre a great heap of burning wood. A pyre.
The refugees were herded in front of a man, clearly the chief of this place. He looked at them with red eyes and spoke with bitterness in his voice.
"On any other day, we would slay pirates from the sea without question. But not on this day, for it is the funeral of Prince Diolon my only son and heir. No violence is permitted on this day. Who are you, and why do you come to us on this sad day ?"
Elasos bowed low before the grief-stricken king. "We are the last of the Enkadi. Our kin were slain by Telnoi raiders and our town sacked by them. I am Elasos, not a king or price, just a humble chalkophoros. Please allow us to share your grief for the loss of your son, a grief as great as our own or greater. How did he come to die before his father ?"
The king looked at Elasos carefully. "You say you are no king or prince, yet your companions treat you as their leader. Tell me; what is a chalkophoros ?"
"I am a worker in copper and bronze. Perhaps my skills can help you. Your warriors have stone spears, but with my skills and the right materials I can tip their spears with bronze points."
With that, he drew his bronze sword, holding it so the blade flashed golden in the sunlight. There was a gasp from the crowd of mourners. They had clearly never seen anything like it, and Elasos realised that apart from the king's hammered gold collar and circlet there was no other metal to be seen in this place.
The king spoke again, this time more softly. "That is a wondrous weapon. My son was murdered trying to prevent a greater grief. For my only daughter, Arianna, was taken by monstrous creatures we call greenbeasts. They tower above us, and their flesh is impervious to our weapons. Please... if you save her, you can live among us, I will give you her hand in marriage and you will become the heir to my kingdom."
Elasos lowered his head in assent. "I promise, I will do my best. To help you, and to the memory of King Bogras and our slain people."
He set off that very afternoon, carrying his bronze sword, the shield he had taken from the Telnoi warrior, and the leather helmet. He'd ripped the feathers out while they were still at sea, and the helmet now carried a flowing yellow horsehair plume from it's central boss.
It took three days before he came to the land of the greenbeasts, and he saw his first one almost immediately, stumbling on it by torchlight as night fell. It was ten feet tall, a bulky, shaggy monstrosity with bulbous coarse features, slimy skin of a disgusting grey-green colour, and a crude brown fur kilt wrapped around it's sagging midriff.
As it saw Elasos, it stood up, roared and charged. He stepped aside as it tried to rake him with hands the size of his shield tipped with fingernails so long and thickened they were like claws. It's maw was full of blunt, grinding teeth and it's breath smelled of carrion. As it blundered past him, he stabbed deep with the sword.
The creature screamed in pain, but Elasos was horrified as the wound started to close up and the gushing green blood slowed to a trickle. Two more stabs achieved nothing more. A backhand swipe from the monster knocked him down and winded him, and the sword flew from his fingers. When the creature leaned forward to finish him off by biting his head off, he acted by instinct, thrusting his torch into the thing's face.
This time, the greenbeast's scream was one of pure terror. Elasos saw that it's wounds were no longer closing, and it's burned face was peeled open and unhealed. While the creature clawed at it's ruined eyes, he rolled to the side and picked his sword back up. Then, he thrust it deep into the monster's back, following up immediately with flame.
The greenbeast screeched once more, then fell forward stone dead.
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
Elasos drew a shaky breath. He'd killed wild beasts on a hunt before, but this was only the second opponent he'd had which was also trying to kill him. Then he heard another noise; a whimper from nearby.
In a ditch a few yards away was a girl, crudely bound by heavy ropes. Her pale skin was bruised, her dress torn to shreds. But she was alive. "Arianna ?" he asked uncertainly.
She nodded, eyes bright with wonder at this hero who had appeared from nowhere to save her from an invincible captor.
"They... they were going to ... eat me..."
"You're safe now. I'm here to take you back to your father."
Their return to the town was met with greater joy if possible than the grief which had been seen at the funeral. Arianna was obviously smitten with the handsome young man who had come from the sea to save her, and their wedding was just the start of a wonderful new story.
King Helad, her father, renamed the town Elas in honour of the man who had saved them all, and as bronze weapons and tools started to emerge from his forge the town's walls rose higher to protect them from further attacks by the ravaging greenbeasts.
Thus was founded the Empire of Elas.