Journey to Nivaka

by Leslie E Heath

  “Perhaps,” Serik retorted, sidestepping another awkward thrust, “They should have let me leave, instead of attacking me. I had no quarrel with them, and I didn’t seek them out.”

  Kinorn’s face turned red and he pressed forward with a flurry of thrusts and swings. Heart pounding, Serik leapt into the tree to escape the man’s wrath, and finally caught a glimpse of the creature facing the rest of the men.

  The animal had the frame of a fox, only much, much larger. It stood taller than the tallest building Serik had seen in the cities he’d passed, the top of its head level with Serik’s as he crouched on the branch. A thick chestnut mane surrounded a head shaped like that of a massive mountain wolf. Jamik dangled limply in its jaws and another man struggled under the weight of its enormous canine paw.

  While Serik watched, the animal crunched his friend in half and swallowed. It screeched again, and the rest of the tribesmen vanished into the forest.

  Unable to move, Serik stared at the creature from his high perch, waiting until it had chased after some of the mountain men before he jumped down and ran deeper into the wood. He had run about two hundred paces before something struck his leg and he tumbled face-first into the dirt. He sprung to his feet, searching for whatever had knocked him down.

  Kinorn stepped out of the brush onto the trail beside him.

  “You didn’t think you’d actually get away, did you?” Kinorn held his sword in front of himself, a classic defensive position.

  “That thing’s going to eat us all if we don’t escape,” Serik whispered. He feared speaking louder and drawing the animal’s attention.

  Kinorn laughed. “Let it try. We’ve already escaped all the monsters in that swamp a few days back. I’m not going to quit until I have your head.”

  “Very well,” Serik said with a sigh.

  Behind them, someone screamed, the sound cutting off into a strangled gurgle. Serik’s stomach lurched, but he did his best to ignore the sound and focus on the man in front of him.

  Another man stepped out of the underbrush beside Kinorn, and Serik glanced around to make sure none had managed to slip in behind him.

  While Serik had his attention focused elsewhere, Kinorn threw himself forward, his sword aimed at Serik’s chest.

  Serik jumped to the right, but the sword nicked his left arm, slicing through leather shirt and muscle in an instant. He resisted the urge to drop his sword and clutch at his arm, instead allowing the blood to flow down his arm and drip from his fingers.

  Fearing the smell of blood would draw the massive creature’s attention, Serik took the offensive. He moved through a series of sweeping thrusts and parries that knocked both of his opponents off balance. With all the energy he had left, he rammed his sword through the second man’s chest, between his ribs. The tribesman crumpled, and Serik pulled the sword free.

  Rustling and snuffling sounds resonated from the forest behind him, but Serik didn’t turn to see how close the animal was. He slowly circled Kinorn on the trail, looking for an opening.

  Kinorn’s eyes focused on something distant, and Serik took advantage of his foe’s momentary distraction. He thrust his sword through Kinorn’s chest. The mountain main clutched at the wound and fell to his knees. A moment later, he tumbled forward. Serik dropped the sword and, without looking behind him, ran into the forest, searching for the entrance to the village. It had to be close.

  He had sprinted a quarter of a mile or so when someone grabbed his arm. Fearful that his enemies had gotten ahead of him, Serik spun, arm poised to deliver a punishing blow, but the face before him was a stranger.

  Serik dropped his arm, but not his guard.

  “Let’s go,” the stranger said. “There’s an emrialk somewhere close by. I’ve heard it screaming all day. Let’s get to safety, and you can tell me where you came from and why you’re bleeding.”

  The tall, fair-haired, pale-skinned man led Serik to a set of stairs set into the trail, and Serik gladly followed him up into the treetop village.

  At the top of the stairs, Serik stopped, gaping at the view. Broad wooden walkways suspended from nearby trees supported enormous houses, and people bustled about as if the strange village were any ordinary town. Women carrying baskets of fruits harried their children, who ran ahead and screeched as they played. Men cleaned the day’s catch of birds on a bench near the edge of the walkway, tossing feathers over the side of the chest-high rail that surrounded the boardwalks.

  Behind him, the stranger activated a gear-driven mechanism, cranking the handle until the stairs folded up into the bottom of the walkway. A rush of exhaustion and relief tumbled through him, and Serik staggered to a nearby bench. He collapsed onto it, gasping for air.

  “Are you all right?” The stranger asked. “I’m Agommi, the mayor of this village. Let’s get you to the Gadonu so he can have a look at your arm.”

  “Wh… What was that thing?” Serik asked, his voice tremulous.

  The stranger nodded. “That’s an emrialk. Very dangerous. Best to avoid them. Now, can you walk?”

  Serik drew a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “I think so.” His knees shook too much for him to be completely sure.

  When he’d regained his breath, Serik asked, “What’s the name of this place? I was told to seek out a man named Agommi in the village of Nivaka.”

  “Well, you’ve found me. Who sent you to me?”

  Serik grimaced. How could he explain the voices in the trees? “It’s a long story. I was told you may have employment for a weary traveler.” He paused, considering the morning’s events. “You said you’re the mayor here? Why would someone so important be wandering the forest alone when there’s an animal like that out there?”

  Agommi smiled. “I wasn’t alone. I had my friends down there with me. We were rounding up the last of the hunters and making sure everyone made it home safely. Who did you say sent you?”

  “Er… That’s kind of hard to explain. Do you have some time?”

  The kindly man nodded. “The forest sent you, eh? Yes, I do have need of assistance with my two boys. I’m afraid they’re a bit much for my poor wife.”

  Agommi led Serik to a frail elderly man’s home, where the old healer bandaged his wound and gave him some foul-tasting tincture to help it heal.

  “You’ll need to stay here for a day or two,” the healer said. “I need to keep an eye on that cut and see that you don’t take a fever. I’ll let my wife know to expect a visitor for dinner. You lie down and rest. It sounds like you’ve had quite an ordeal.”

  Dizzy and more tired than he’d ever been, Serik laid back on the hard cot and wondered what his future would hold. Could he be happy in this forest village? He’d have to try his hardest. Regardless, this was his home now.

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  The Last Mayor's Son, Chapter 1

  Eddrick huddled in the shadows near the edge of the arena and considered the recent changes he had seen. He remembered the old adage that change is the only constant in life. Maybe that wasn’t entirely correct. Changes continued well beyond the grave. Now, he looked at life happening before him—the crowd of people cheering as two young swordsmen faced off in a tournament. One of them had once been his son, Aibek.

  Aibek and his competitor, Intza, faced each other in one of three dusty circles marked out with fist-sized black stones. If either stepped outside the circle, the match would end, and the competitor remaining inside the ring would be declared the winner. They had each won six matches during the hot, humid day, and now traded blows in the final battle of the tournament. Only one could be the champion of the annual Xona Military Academy East versus West tournament, which pitted teams from the two branches of the Academy against each other.

  In Eddrick’s opinion, Aibek was a superbly skilled fighter, light on his feet with a lightning-quick strike. His adversary was larger and stronger, but Aibek had beaten him in an early round last year. This time, they faced each other late in the day, after hours of fighting in the blazing sun
had drained both of much of their strength. Breathless, he watched as his son dodged an aggressive swing, then countered with a swift stab towards his enemy’s chest. His blow glanced off Intza’s shield with a loud clang of metal. Aibek ducked away from yet another heavy attack. He wiped the sweat from his eyes with the glove on his shield hand and watched for an opening in his adversary’s defense.

  The brightly painted fighting dragon on Aibek’s shield announced him as a member of the West Xona team. His opponent’s shield bore the likeness of the three moons of Azalin, the banner of the East team. The two emblems combined to form the insignia of the Army of Xona, which would employ all graduates from both branches as officers. Eddrick glanced away as the blindingly bright afternoon sun glared off his son’s polished chain mail. He kept to the back of the crowd and moved to the other side of the arena for a better view.

  Meanwhile, the two opponents danced in a slow circle, maintaining their weapons at the ready.

  Eddrick shouted encouragement to his only son. Though he knew no one could hear him, he yelled with all the volume he could muster. He wished again he had been able to raise his son and silently cursed the cruel fate that had prevented it.

  Glancing around at the wilted appearance of the other spectators, Eddrick was grateful he couldn’t feel the heat. The shadow from the ancient brick building, the West Xona Military Academy, had long since moved away from the dusty circle where the oldest students battled for the championship.

  If this matchup had come earlier in the day, Eddrick thought, Aibek would have easily beaten this slower, clumsier opponent. But, Aibek’s armored chest heaved with exertion, Eddrick could see he’d had enough. The score was tied four to four. According to the rules of the tournament, one more precise, forceful blow to the torso would end the match—and the championship. With his son only one point from winning, Eddrick swore he could feel his heart pounding with excitement, though he knew that was impossible.

  Aibek shrugged his shoulders (perhaps to keep his arms loose?) and raised his shield to defend his chest as the brutish opponent hacked at him once again. Both could taste victory. When his adversary’s sword swung down once more, Aibek leapt slightly right. The sudden movement threw Intza off balance. Before his adversary could regain his equilibrium, Aibek used the last of his energy in a perfectly placed swing of the sword. The weapon clanged against Intza’s chest-plate like a bell, signaling the end of the match. The rivals both fell to the floor, dripping sweat and struggling for breath. Their teammates rushed to their sides, tore off their helmets and the sweat-soaked padding beneath, and helped them to their feet.

  Breathless from the close battle, Eddrick watched as his son accepted his award, and lingered until the young man disappeared into the crowd with his friends. Bursting with pride, he rushed home to tell his wife of Aibek’s victory.

  ~*~

  Aibek looked up at the cloudless sky as he left the arena with his team, laughing and celebrating the day’s win. He remembered the cool, rainy weather he had hated the year before and wished they could have had such luck again today. The hot sun had baked him inside his armor and sapped his strength. His legs shook as he worked to keep up with his friends.

  Still, everyone on the team had won at least one match during the tournament. As the team captain, he considered the day a resounding success. He congratulated one of the youngest members of the team on an early victory, then looked up and saw his uncle Noral step toward him out of the crowd.

  “Good job on the win today!” His guardian clapped him on the shoulder. He held on a moment longer than was necessary, and Aibek paused, glancing at him over his shoulder.

  “Um…thank you.” Aibek’s steps faltered. He stopped, looked into his uncle’s face, and then dropped his gaze to the pebbled path. He stood frozen in place and waited for his uncle’s verdict.

  “You know; you could have beaten him without the theatrics.”

  Aibek furrowed his brow but didn’t raise his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean,” he mumbled.

  “Oh, come on,” Noral said with a laugh. “You know exactly what I mean. You didn’t have to let him get four points on you! If that had been a real battle, you’d be dead, not wearing a trinket.”

  Aibek’s blood turned to ice in his veins. He closed his eyes against the old, familiar feeling. He took several deep breaths to ward off the sense of failure and ran his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. “I put too much into the match before him. I used up all my energy.”

  Noral dropped his hands to his sides, and they resumed their progress toward the Academy where his nephew’s friends were waiting. “Look, you know you can do better just as well as I do.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Aibek answered quietly. “I’ll be stronger next time.”

  “Exactly right; learn from your mistakes and get better… fight smarter.” His uncle smiled. “Now, I have to get back to the shop. We’ll talk more later.” He strode away across the brown grass of the yard without waiting for a response.

  Aibek stared after his uncle for a long moment, wondering if he would ever be able to live up to the expectations of his only father figure. A breeze ruffled his still-wet hair and brought him back to the moment. He kicked at the path in front of him, scattering pebbles in every direction, and made his way up the stairs at the front of the imposing brick building. His teammates had gathered between the enormous, red marble pillars that marked the entrance. He welcomed the joyous celebration of his friends. As always, he painted a broad smile on his face and joined their conversation as if nothing had happened.

  ~*~

  Eddrick rushed along the streets to the entrance to his home and glided silently through the door, where he searched out his wife, Kiri. He found her sitting in her favorite chair, working a ball of brightly colored yarn. Several years ago, she had discovered she could still make hats and scarves. Since then, she spent much of her time knitting child-sized accessories that she deposited on the stoop of the orphanage in Xona in the dark of night.

  Eddrick strode into the small room that was an exact replica of the sitting room they had shared in life. The golden curtains hung by the window had never faded, even in the twenty years they had remained there.

  “I couldn’t have raised him any better myself!” Eddrick grinned, his eyes nearly squinting closed from pure joy. “He’s going to be a perfect mayor.”

  The lovely redhead rolled her eyes and continued knitting. “Of course he will, that was the whole reason we sent him to your brother and his wife. We knew they would do an excellent job. Now, what’s got you so excited this time?”

  A small smile brightened her face when she finally looked up from her knitting.

  Eddrick roared. “Aibek did it again! He won the tournament at the academy for the third year in a row. And every day after class—even after his own tournament today—he’s been helping some of the younger officers learn to fight. You just wait and see—”

  “I know, I know, he’ll be perfect,” Kiri interrupted with an indulgent smile. “You’ve said it every day since he graduated from the university and moved up to the Academy.”

  Her smile faded to a worried frown. “I just hope nothing bad happens because we interfered with Tavan.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she stared into the empty fireplace.

  “Shush!” Eddrick glanced at the windows to make sure no one was near. “We shouldn’t talk about it. Besides, it’s not like we actually killed anyone. We just made things a bit easier for the boys.”

  “I know, but I still feel guilty.” She heaved a great sigh and shook her head. “You’ve always been the one with the crazy schemes. I always get caught whenever I try to break a rule.”

  Eddrick sat next to his wife and stroked her fiery red hair. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. We didn’t tell anyone what to do.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed earnestly into her eyes, “By the trees! We didn’t even give them the idea. They came up with the plan and carried it out on their own—we
just made it a tiny bit easier. Now, no more worrying. Aibek’s coming home!”

  ~*~

  “You know I’ll beat you again next week.” Aibek taunted his friend over his shoulder as they left the training grounds behind the Academy.

  “Of course, you will!” Faruz choked out his words between breaths. “You’re a foot taller than me and everyone else, but I’ll beat you yet. It’s only a matter of time.”

  They strolled toward Aibek’s home, down the cobbled streets, past a row of low mud brick and stone buildings, common in this prairie city. The scrubby grass that would normally brighten the town with its brilliant blue flowers had turned brown and dry in the unseasonable heat wave. Aibek wished again for rain. It had been almost a month since they’d seen a single drop. At least the short, skinny trees that the last General had planted along the grounds of the school still had green leaves, though they hadn’t flowered that spring.

  They walked the familiar roads lined with low grey houses, laughing and talking about the day’s tournament and the practice session for the underclassmen that had followed.

  Aibek grinned when Faruz ignored the door to his own home and followed Aibek into his house. They entered without pausing to remove their shoes. Faruz made a beeline for the end of the couch near the window, as he did every day. He claimed it was so he could see his father when he passed by on his way home, but Aibek suspected he wanted the most comfortable spot. Aibek stood and stared at his friend for a moment, wondering how Faruz had gotten so lucky. His family was close, but not smothering, and his parents treated him like a capable adult. Aibek swallowed against the old envy and dropped his bag on the table by the door.

  “Wipe your feet,” Aunt Ira scolded, strolling into the room from the kitchen. “I don’t want you tracking dirt through the whole house.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “How was the tournament? I want to hear all about it. But first, put your things away. You can’t just drop them on the table like that.” She smiled fondly at the auburn-haired young man and his friend.