The Chronicles of Han Storm


Han Storm's CV

Excerpt from Chronicles of Han Storm - Leilaka

Chronicles of Han Storm -Leilaka Pic

Han Storm inadvertently presents his CV to a Leilakan Healer:

Excerpt from The Chronicles of Han Storm: Leilaka 

" The Dwarf Healer took a good look at me before gently probing my ribs, then the scar on my scalp. Lastly, he examined my facial bones, gently pressing against my nose and probing the right side of my face.

    After taking the bandage off my right hand, he examined the almost healed gashes.

    "You may put your clothes back on" he said before returning to his desk where he started making notes in a book of which the pages seemed to be made of parchment or vellum.

    "They call you Han, but that is not your real name, is it?" the Dwarf asked.

    I did not answer, finished tying my boots and sat down on the examination bed, allowing my gaze to run over the shelves of books that ran along the one wall.

    The Dwarf crossed his hands and placed them on the book in front of him.

    "Connor said you have strange dreams, speaking in languages they cannot understand."

    I nodded. It was a fact.

    One book drew my attention.

    I stood up and walked over to it.

    Touching the binding brought a tingle from my fingertips right down my arm.

    "You like books?" the dwarf inquired.

    "May I?" I asked, holding my arm steady, allowing the tingle to continue through my body, down to the rock floor.

    "Be my guest. It is an ancient book from the Elfes. No-one understands the language any longer, not even the Elfes."

    I took the book from the shelf, almost dropping it when a whisper ran through my body "*Do not fiddle with what will make things worse.*"

    I ignored the icy Shade, concentrating instead on the book. Sitting down on the hide that was spread on the floor, I traced the emblem on the leather binding. A seven-pointed star was enclosed in an upside down horse-shoe, the bottom arms of the shoe ensnared by a lazy eight lying on its side. Allowing the book to fall open at random, somewhere in the middle, I started reading to myself . . .

   'and the days will come when the Emperors will fail and the worlds will turn. And in these times the Sons of Man will become the Lords until the Dark becomes strong once more.

    For a thousand years Man will rule before the Rogue Lord will be strong enough to awaken his armies.

    In the last days Man will turn against all other Tribes, including themselves, eventually giving themselves over to the Dark.'

    I allowed my hands to flip through the book before reading another bit.

    'I am Jamal, Head Emperor of the Elfes. These are the predictions I have made at the end of the time of the Elfes, at the beginning of the time of Man.

    And when the end of Man is coming, the Cosmos, my Creator, will allow one of His servants to come in disguise. And all Tribes will unite under this servant to defend against imminent Evil and if Evil is negated, to create a New World.'

    I turned a few more pages until a phrase jumped out at me.

    'These symbols I have created in the fires of Elfs Wood, from the magical metal of Elms, to fuse the Creator's servant within this world - The Sword of Jamal.

    Hidden where only the servant will find it, I placed in the care of my children the Huracan's Lair, the mythical creature to join forces with the servant.'

    My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in the tiny room. I closed the book, looking up at the Dwarf who had been watching me closely all the time.

    "Did you find anything interesting in it?" he wanted to know.

    I stood up, suddenly aware that this man saw more than only a body in front of him. He could read auras, the energy fields that surrounded every living organism. It would be futile to lie to him.

    I replaced the book before turning to face him.

    "Interesting, yes. Of my immediate concern, no. Are you done with my examination or do you wish to inquire further?"

    "I do not appreciate your attitude, boy. You may be a Prince, but you have no authority here. And yes, I am not through with my examination. Sit. I have more questions for you."

    He said all this without losing the friendly expression on his face.

    I sat down on the chair, facing him, waiting for him to start.

    "Connor said you do not speak unless spoken to. Why is this?"

    "I have nothing to say." And I hate my voice, I added silently.

    "When Marshall asked you about what had happened to your family, you passed out. Is this true?"

    "I passed out because of the lightning in my head. Not because of the questions Marshall asked me." Honesty with this man was most important. He could see when you lied.

    "This 'Lightning' as you call it. Has it happened before? What does it feel like? How often do you feel it?"

    Lots of questions. I was feeling tiny sparks starting at the base of my skull already. I kept the answers as short as possible.

    "Yes, it has happened before. It feels as if someone has lit a sparker inside my head. I am feeling tiny sparks igniting right now."

    "Does it hurt?"

    What does he expect?

    "Yes, like hell."

    "You are saying you are feeling tiny sparks right now. Do you think they will grow into lightning-bolts as we progress with your questioning?"

    This guy was probing for something specific.


    He took his quill, dipped it into some ink and started the questions.

    "Is your name Prince Krish Dameous?"

    "In this life, yes" I sighed at him. At least I had figured that one out by now and could answer truthfully.

    The Dwarf looked up at me suspiciously before continuing.

    "Is your name Han?"

    "Right now, yes."

    "Do you accept your new identity and life?"


    "Do you want to avenge the death of your family?"

    "My Uncle will pay dearly for killing them in front of me."

    My voice had absolutely no emotion in it. It was a simple statement.

    "I see." The Dwarf said before writing some more in his book.

    "Connor said you were surprised to find out that you were a horse-whisperer. Is this true?"


    "So you did not know that you could speak to animals?"

    "No." Where were we heading with these questions?

    "Where did you learn to fight?"

    That was an easy one. "From Master Craig."

    "I thought Master Craig only taught survival and concealment. Your father never allowed his children to handle weapons."

    I kept quiet. It was a trick question.

    "What colour hair did your mother have?"

    I tried to think. The dreams only gave me the man with the yellow hair and beard.

    A vision of a woman with red hair and green eyes flashed before me. I knew it was not Krish's mother. It was the dark-haired entity’s mother, as he remembered her.

    "Krish?" the Dwarf brought my attention back to him.

    I looked into his brown eyes and told the honest truth. "I do not remember."

    "I thought so" was the only answer I received.

    Then came the conversation Connor and I was supposed to have had.

    "What exactly do you remember?"

    I sighed deeply, expanding my chest until my healing ribs hurt before exhaling.

    "The last few days. Snippets from an earlier life."

    The apparition suddenly stood in front of me, as huge as my father used to be in life.

    "Krish? What are you staring at?"

    The Dwarf's gift of sight did not include passed-over spirits.

    "What do you want from me?" I asked the apparition. This time I had the courage to ask. There was no-one that could interfere.

    "Avenge me" it replied.

    "Not right now. The time will come. Allow me to grow into manhood first. Stop haunting me. Go to my siblings, they need your guidance. I will bring you justice."

    The spirit nodded before retreating, disappearing into thin air.

    The lightning-bolts had increased and I was starting to duck my head with every new jab.

    "Who was that?" the Dwarf wanted to know.

    "King Dameous. He has been haunting me since we joined up with Captain Brair, spooking the horses, making the men uncomfortable and short-tempered."

    "You speak to the dead? This is most unusual. A horse-whisperer and also a death-talker."

    "And put reading your lost Elfen language on the resume as well."

    "Reading the . . . Are you serious?"


    "How can you know the Ancient Language?"

    I thought about it as best I could between lightning-bolts.

    A tremendous pain suddenly leapt through my whole body, from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.

    It left me gasping for air.

    The Dwarf rushed around his desk, picking me up out of the chair. After laying my body down on the bed, he held his ear to my chest for a moment. Dashing over to a shelf with potions and bottles, he selected one of the bottles, returned and administered a few drops directly onto my tongue.

    It was horrid stuff, but I managed to swallow. The pain subsided almost immediately.

    The Dwarf brought over another bottle. "This will induce a very deep sleep. Your injury brought you lots of grief and discomfort through loss of active memory." He presented a huge spoon full of a sticky red liquid that tasted salty.

    "Your specific injury also left the path open for entry of other entities, but we will worry about that when you wake up. Rest now."

    He did not need to encourage me. The drug worked its magic, rendering me unconscious in seconds . . ."



Copyright © H Gibson 2009-2013 Chronicles of Han Storm


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