by Sam Ferguson
Halsten then yanked down on the handle, tearing the wound open and making the orc’s sword arm useless.
For all of that, this orc was not finished yet. It turned and gave Halsten a savage head-butt to the face that knocked the young Varvarr back two paces. A second later, the orc swung with a right hook. Halsten shot his left arm up, blocking the blow by catching the orc on the inside of the elbow. His right hand then sailed in unimpeded to bury the field knife deep in the orc’s gut. Halsten’s killing blow was strong enough that he lifted the orc from the ground and held him up in the air until the orc’s legs stopped kicking. Then he dropped the corpse and wiped his knife on the side of his leather pants.
“Go and be with your fallen god, abomination,” Halsten spat.
Just then there came a raucous trampling of bushes and sticks from Halsten’s right. He wheeled around, ready to fight, but saw Ivar and Ingvar burst into the small clearing. They looked at the two orcs near Halsten and then scanned the trees around them. Halsten could see from the fresh blood on their weapons that they had met with orcs as well.
“They came for me after I slew the deer,” Halsten said matter-of-factly as he sheathed his knife.
Ivar nodded. “They did similarly with us.”
“You killed two?” Ingvar asked. He fished something out of his pocket and then proudly displayed four bloody tusks, complete with bits of flesh clinging to the base of each. “I killed two also. Ivar killed one.”
“I killed three,” Halsten said. He pointed off to the trees where the orc archer’s body was lying in a heap on the ground.
Ingvar whistled through his teeth and put the trophies back in his pocket. “The tusks will make for a good necklace.”
Halsten frowned and pointed to the necklace of orc tusks currently hanging from Ingvar’s neck. “You already have nearly twenty tusks on that one, I don’t think you need another necklace.”
Ingvar shook his head. “I will stop making necklaces when they stop attacking our clan.”
“I prefer to wear them on my wrist,” Ivar said as he brought up his left wrist to display a sturdy leather bracer with several tusks dangling by thick cords.
Halsten nodded and gathered his bow and hatchet. Unlike his cousins, he did not take prizes from the orcs. Instead, he collected their weapons and used one of the orc’s shirts to bundle them together. He then tied the bundle to the deer’s antlers and hoisted the animal up across his shoulders.
Ingvar graciously offered to take Halsten’s bow, saying it would be a shame to dirty such a weapon with blood.
The three of them then walked back to the site where Ingvar and Ivar had slain more deer. Unfortunately, the carcasses were gone and all that was left were two piles of entrails that were already attracting crows.
“There must have been more orcs,” Ivar said. “Akuhn bite them!”
“Don’t drag Akuhn into this,” Halsten said. “The Wolf Goddess is not well pleased with us, and now we have only one heart to offer her. Best not to invoke her wrath.”
Ivar nodded, but the fire in his eyes did not fade. “If we find the other orcs, then I shall offer her many hearts,” he promised.
The three then made their seven mile trek back to their clan with only one deer to show for their efforts. To make matters worse, there were no other animals seen on the return path. The snares they had set that morning had failed to catch any rabbits as well.
For the fourth time that week, one deer was going to be shared among the entire tribe.
After some time, they came to the large clearing that marked the outer boundary of their camp. Nestled in the heart of the Feklyn Wood stood a grand meadow with a stream running along the southern side. It was shallow, but wide and deep enough to both draw water from and wash clothes in. Several of the female children were there now, at the bank of the water, busily scrubbing large baskets full of clothes.
Halsten saw a single young Varvarr male, about fifteen years old, sitting and talking with one of the girls. When the young boy saw Halsten, he jumped up to his feet and picked up a bundle of firewood he had gathered. The girls nearby giggled and shot smiles to each other.
As the chief’s son, Halsten could have reprimanded the boy, but he saw little point in it. He had been fifteen years old himself not too long ago. He remembered what it was like. As long as the mischief was harmless, Halsten was not usually one to raise his hand to the young.
He and his cousins crossed a low lying wooden bridge and continued through the meadow for nearly a quarter mile before they arrived at their settlement. The Varvarr were not usually rooted in one place. Their tribes preferred to remain on the move, following animal migrations and hunting as the opportunity presented itself. Halsten’s tribe was anything but usual. Jarle, Halsten’s father, had come south into the Feklyn Wood some forty years ago. The animals had been abundant then, and the Velik Desert in the east was small and of little consequence to the Varvarr. Jarle had put his strongest men to work clearcutting this part of the forest. From the long timbers of pine, they had made great longhouses and other shelters. Halsten had his own longhouse, albeit somewhat shorter and smaller than the others, while many of the families in the village shared longhouses with as many as three or even upward of five families. With the heavy stones they pulled from the earth, they created a stone wall that was about waist high on a Varvarr. It wasn’t a great defense like the larger cities, but it was enough. Atop the stone wall the Varvarr set a layer of green grass, as they did across their roofs as well. It gave the entire village a very different feel from the camps that Halsten had seen of other Varvarr tribes with their tents and teepees.
Jarle had also overseen the plowing and the tilling of the field to the east of the wall. The Varvarr were not skilled in raising crops, but they managed to produce a decent yield of potatoes and pumpkins that helped sustain them when game was low. In a good year, they could even raise a bit of corn.
Though he couldn’t see the fire in the center of the village, for several houses blocked his view, a slanted column of smoke was working its way up into the air. Halsten smiled when he smelled the scent of roasting meat.
Someone else had been successful in hunting.
He and the cousins quickened their pace, hurrying through the village and bringing the deer to the central fire pit. There they found Jarle and several other men huddling around a large boar roasting upon a hefty spit.
“Looks like we won’t be having just deer tonight,” Ingvar said.
Halsten nodded. He looked across the fire and saw Samek, a large Varvarr warrior a few years older than he, sitting cross-legged on the ground with his bow over his lap and a group of young children gathered around him. Other than Halsten, Samek was the best hunter in the tribe, and Halsten knew that it was he who had slain the boar.
Just then, a small boy with black hair turned from Samek to see Halsten. A great smile appeared on his face and he jumped up to his feet and began running toward Halsten. Sarkis was Halsten’s son. His shiny black hair flapped in the air as he sprinted toward his father, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness.
Halsten shrugged the deer carcass off to Ivar and patted him on the back. “Take this to my father.” Halsten then turned from his path and moved toward his son. He only barely managed to prepare himself before the boy leapt into his arms.
“Papa!” Sarkis cried out as he gave Halsten a tight hug around the neck.
Halsten squished the boy, grunting for emphasis, and then flipped him up to sit upon his shoulders.
“You slew a deer?” Sarkis asked.
Halsten nodded. “I did.” He turned so that Sarkis could see the animal as it was given to Jarle.
“Grandfather will make a fine dinner tonight,” Sarkis said matter-of-factly. “Samek killed a boar today.”
“I see that.” Halsten said as he walked toward Samek. It was customary to congratulate successful hunters in person, especially when they took dangerous quarry as prey.
“He says he kill
ed it with only his knife!” Sarkis exclaimed.
Halsten looked up to see his boy grinning from ear to ear. Halsten knew that Samek was prone to boasting, especially in front of the children, but he didn’t bother to correct the unlikely account of how the boar was slain.
Samek rose to his feet and offered a slight bow of his head. “Akuhn bless the hands that feed us,” he said.
Halsten returned the customary greeting. “Akuhn bless the hands that feed us,” he said. “I hear you slew a boar, surely that is a fine feat for any man.”
Samek smiled and nodded. “They are as deadly as they are stubborn.”
“Tell him how you jumped on it and drove your knife into the boar’s skull, Samek!”
Samek smiled and puffed a bit of air.
Halsten smiled and nodded. “I bet Samek could have won with even his bare hands,” he said. “Samek has arms strong as birch trees.”
Samek took the compliment with a laugh and shook his head. “I am not the one who wrestled a black bear upon my twenty-first birthday.”
Halsten smiled wide. Everyone in the village knew that story, and they liked to remind him of it often. “It was the ale; it gave me a bit more strength than usual,” Halsten said.
“Perhaps a bit more courage than usual, but strength is not something you have ever lacked,” Samek replied. His smile then faded and he pointed over Halsten’s shoulder. “Your wife is coming.”
Halsten turned to see the most beautiful woman in the entire village. She was of sturdy stock, tough enough to work or fight beside him, but she had curves in all the right places. Her auburn hair shone in the light of the sun, with traces of black and red showing through. Her dark, brown eyes always seemed to twinkle when Halsten gazed upon them. Some couples in the village had let their fires cool over time, but not Halsten and Agatha. No, even after nine years of marriage, the fire still burned strong between them. She offered a smile, and then quickly shook her head.
“Sarkis, go and play, I need to speak with your father.”
Halsten leaned to the side and gently set his son on the ground. He then moved toward his wife and the two embraced and shared a kiss, lips pressed together hard and her body rising up to meet his. As she stepped back from him and let her hands slide back down his arms, he watched her and marveled at how favorably Akuhn had treated him when she had made their union. Surely the Wolf Goddess knew something Halsten didn’t, for he never would have expected to be so lucky.
Agatha came from a neighboring tribe. Born and raised a chief’s daughter, she could have chosen any Varvarr prince for her husband. By a fortunate twist of fate, she had chosen Halsten.
“Father slew a deer today,” Sarkis cut in.
Agatha looked down and nodded at her son. “Yes, I can see that.” She reached up and picked a patch of bloodied fur off of Halsten’s shoulder. “I’ll have your clothes washed tomorrow,” she said. “Come, I want to discuss something with you.”
“Can I come?” Sarkis asked.
“Not this time,” Halsten said quickly. “We have grown-up things to talk about. Go on and play, dinner will be ready soon. We’ll join you then.”
“I don’t know about that,” Agatha said, her voice taking on a slight air of sternness that wiped Sarkis’ smile from his face.
“All right,” Sarkis said as he turned and went back to Samek.
Agatha looked back to Halsten, her eyes beaming at him. “You have been gone all day, and we have much to discuss. You might miss dinner.”
“I see.” Halsten smiled wide and the two moved toward their home. No sooner had they entered the log house and bolted the door shut than Agatha grabbed Halsten by the front of his shirt and pulled him close for another kiss. This one was longer and hard at first, then gradually softened. Halsten reached down, sliding his hands over her and then scooping her up into his arms. He carried his wife to the bed for their ‘discussion.’
Also be sure to check out Codex of Light
Long ago, the Silver Empire brought an end to the Kingdom of Lumin and drove the Lumineans from their high city of Tashavet. Still true to their traditions, however, the Lumineans have not been undone. They live among the Dan’din of the new Imperial Commonwealth, keeping hidden the few, precious codices which hold the secrets to the powers of the Divine.
Young Dallet has been studying his whole life to become a cleric of the Divine, and dreams of one day marrying his childhood sweetheart and taking over the care of the Luminean Shrine in his small town of Zelf. In order to be initiated on this path, he will need to read one of the ancient codices under the guidance of an experienced cleric. It is an honor, although a surprise, when he is tasked with transporting one such codex across the Bereaved Desert to the capital city of Brass Gates. The journey will prove to be treacherous, and Dallet’s oath to protect the Codex of Light, even unto death, will prove to be a challenge that tests all of the values Dallet has ever held to be sacred.
About the Author
Sam Ferguson is a fairly average guy.
That’s it.
No, really, that’s it.
Oh- you are actually reading this?
Well… the truth is that Sam is a very lucky guy. He juggles work in such a way that he makes sure to spend enough time with his loving wife and five sons. He is blessed to be writing full time now. In his spare time he is an avid powerlifter, and competes from time to time.
He spent nearly five years serving as a U.S. Diplomat and absolutely loved the experience, but decided to move back home. Outside of the U.S. he has lived in Latvia, Hungary, and Armenia. He speaks Russian, Hungarian, and Armenian. (He used to speak some Latvian too, but he has no one to practice with anymore…)
He has a large, happy dog.
He plays the Elder Scrolls series.
His favorite superhero is Wolverine, but Batman is a close second.
If the kids go to bed at a reasonable hour, he will cuddle up with his wife to watch Scrubs reruns, the Big Bang Theory, Castle, and Burn Notice.
See, really just an average guy after all.
If you enjoyed this book, then join Sam Ferguson’s Facebook page, sign up for alerts on his Amazon page where we would encourage you to leave reviews on the books you have read, or you can follow Sam on his author blog:
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About Terramyr
This book is a story from the world of Terramyr, a world which is part of a grand fantasy universe.* The world of Terramyr is rich in stories of adventure and magic, where struggles of the small and mighty alike are worthy of being told. Each story reflects a different point in time where the course of Terramyr’s history is affected; all paths leading to a moment when the life of Terramyr will be weighed in the cosmic balance.
Terramyr is a palimpsest of fantastic history and magic, where different ages of gods and mortals have given rise to heroes and villains of all sorts, from each corner of the world.
The life of Terramyr is measured in five major eras of time, each a testament to the strength of will of mortals and those who would seek to become gods. Covering over 12,000 years of Terramyr’s history the struggles of each race, from orcs to demigods, from elves to gnomes, are recorded by author Sam Ferguson.
We invite you to take a walk in the wild jungles of Prirodha, explore the verdant seacoast of the Elven Isles, climb the snowy peaks of the Dryden Range, delve the mighty caverns of the Dwarves of Roegudok Hall, discover the hidden treasures of the merpeople of the Ilion Ocean, and to share the adventures which take place in many more beautiful, exciting locations across the world of Terramyr.
You can learn more about the World of Terramyr a
t
Terramyr.wikia.com
And
www.TalesFromTerramyr.blogspot.com
And
www.DragonScaleBooks.com
*Related worlds include Kendualdern, a world where dragons rule.
While each series or stand-alone book which is part of the World of Terramyr can be enjoyed on its own, the more you explore, the more you will find easter eggs, learn about the mythology and history of the world, and the more you may come to discover the extent of the powers interested in guiding Terramyr to its final end.
You can enjoy the stories in any order you choose, but for readers who are interested in knowing where in the chronology of Terramyr a given story falls, here is a chronological list of the stories (those currently available, and those yet to come) that take place on the World of Terramyr.
Pre–history and Creation Era
The Dragons of Kendualdern series
The Dragons of Kendualdern: Dominion (Coming Soon
The Dragons of Kendualdern: Hunted (Coming Soon)
The Dragons of Kendualdern: Rebellion (Coming Soon)
The Dragons of Kendualdern: Annihilation (Coming Soon)
The World Seed (Coming Soon)
Ancient Era (1,000 years)
Dark Ages aka The Era of Kings (3,500 years)
Flight of the Krilo (Year 365)
Age of Demigods (5,000 years)
The Haymaker Adventures (Year 3,500)