by Heath Pfaff
They were only twenty-two men, but they fought like a thousand, and anywhere they went, their fellow Tett fought like demons as well. Those silver eyes had become a beacon to which the people could rally, a symbol that had long been needed.
Not even a month after their creation, our new warriors had driven back an enemy that had been slowly pushing the Tett from their home for years, but despite having made ground, there was still a problem that no one knew how to solve.
"They keep coming. We kill thousands of them, but thousands more pour out of the rock. How many of them could there be?" Orthisius's voice was angry, his nerves frayed. They had ground the Hungering against the rocks of the mountain for nearly two weeks. He spoke before the chieftains, and before the other silver-eyed warriors.
"We cannot defeat an enemy that stems from the ground like water from a spring." Another silver-eye said, echoing Orthisius's statement. A general murmur of disquiet flowed through the assembled men, all of whom were tired and eager to be done with the fighting that had waged for so long. Everyone was keenly aware that their new warriors only lived a short period of time, and once they were gone, the Hungering would be at an advantage again. Twenty years was a long time, but the Tett would not be able to fight for that long. Not if they wished to retain some semblance of their society.
"We could build a massive wall around the mountains, and seal them in." One of the chieftain's suggested.
"They are tunnelers. We can't hope to trap them in such a manor. They dig faster and more efficiently than any ten of our men." intoned one of the silver-eyed warriors. "No wall has held them yet, why would we think that had changed?"
A hush fell across the assembled men as they tried in vain to think of some solution to their problem. For a time no one spoke.
"We will simply grind them down until none of them remain." Called yet another of the newly risen warriors. "They cannot come out of their holes forever. If we keep killing them. . ."
"That is not an option." Reamis' voice rose for the first time. "For every hundred of them we kill, we lose five or six men of ours as well. Do you really wish to gamble on who has more men to lose in this war? I do not think it will be us, and even if it was, what would be left of the Tett after wearing our strongest and bravest warriors against the stone of war? A blade will only hone for so long before it is blunted forever. I fear that is our future if we must keep fighting. We need to end this war."
"And what would you suggest, Reamis?" A chieftain's voice called, and others joined the call, all pressing Reamis for an answer. If he was to question the only feasible solution they'd heard, then certainly he must have an idea of his own. Indeed, Reamis had come up with a solution.
"We must go into the mountain and kill the leader of the Hungering. An army cannot fight without its leader." Reamis said with a certainty that he tried to convey to his fellows with the conviction of his voice.
"The Hungering have no leader. They are just monsters." One of the silver-eyes called.
"That isn't true." Reamis snapped. "They attack in an ordered fashion, though it is often childish and haphazard, they show organization. That means that something is guiding their efforts. If we kill the guide, we kill the problem."
The murmur in the room rose to a ruckus as the silver-eyed warriors and the chieftains argued over the possibility of a Hungering ruler.
". . . flanked our forces at the river . . ."
". . . could have sworn they were in a formation . . ."
". . . impossible, monsters . . ."
Reamis sat quietly, listening to the arguments of his fellows. He believed in his assessment of the situation, but he had to have the support of the chieftains, and of the other warriors like himself, if he was to act on what he believed. Orthisius stood, as ever, at his side. The warrior of legend leaned in close, and whispered to Reamis.
"Do you really believe that they have a ruler, Reamis?" The living legend asked.
Reamis looked at his friend, meeting silver eye to eye. "Yes. I know it in my heart."
Orthisius nodded. "If Reamis knows it, than Orthisius knows it." He said quietly, before turning to the arguing groups before him.
"It is true." Orthisius called, silencing the raised voices. "They have fought as though organized at every turn. I believe that they do have a ruler . . . a central chieftain, or something similar. If we kill that which guides them, they will lose their will to fight, and we can put an end to this long misery."
For a moment there was silence, and Reamis watched in wonder as the suggestion he'd given, and seen them almost reject, was suddenly considered more seriously. Such was Orthisius's way. What he said, people always took at face value. Reamis did not let it trouble him that his word had not been enough, instead he marveled at the wonder that was Orthisius. Others began to nod their ascent.
"We kill their chieftain, and we win!" Someone called out, and soon other voices were raised in support. The entire group was taken with the idea, and Reamis knew that there was hope again, for he held great confidence in his assessment of the situation.
The chieftains and the silver-eyed warriors clamored together to work out the details of what they would do next. It was decided that twenty of the twenty-two sacred warriors would come together and forge their way into the mountain. Fighting as a single force, they might be able to breach the line of Hungering that held back their army as a whole. Of course, their entrance would be buried behind them, as the Hungering surged forever forward, but if they could get through, and survive long enough to find the ruler of their enemy, they might stand some chance of freeing the Tett from the terrible war that had gone on for years.
They wasted no time in making preparations. The silver-eyed warriors were given one night to prepare themselves. All twenty-two of them wished to make the journey into the mountain, but two would need to remain behind to support the ground troupes. The two chosen to stay behind did not begrudge the others their positions, for they too had important parts to play, but all were curious as to what lay beneath the great mountain.
That night there was a celebration in the camp of the Tett. Every man not fighting took a moment to enjoy the good cheer. Those to go beneath the mountain could not indulge themselves, but they did laugh, and mingle with the others. All of those chosen to descend into the depths knew that, even as powerful as they were, it could be their last night amongst their fellows. They were going to sink into the heart of darkness, and it seemed unlikely that they would all return.
Every man wished to clasp arms with their heroes, and those heroes did their best to spread the cheer amongst the warriors who would fight at the line. The silver-eyes knew they might die, but they knew also that many of the men who'd come to see them off might also die. They lived in uncertain times, and it was their job not only to fight, but to instill in their people both confidence and courage. If the silver-eyed warriors did not fear going into the mountain, then certainly those fighting above need not fear either.
"I want to thank you for supporting me." Reamis said to Orthisius in a rare moment in which they found some quiet.
Orthisius shrugged. "You have never led me wrong. When I have fallen, you have always picked me back up, and yet it seems it is always Orthisius who looks like the hero in the end." Orthisius gestured to encompass the entire camp. "These folks are good, hardworking, hard fighting people, but they do not know a real hero when they see one. If not for you, Reamis, there would be no Orthisius here now. I have not forgotten."
It was Reamis' turn to shrug. "We do what we must as honorable men, and hope that in the end what we have done is judged as right and just."
Orthisius grinned widely. "That is why I look to you in times of need, Reamis. You have a great understanding of the world. Someday I hope to understand it half as well."
Reamis laughed. "I understand nothing."
Orthisius laughed as well. "Then we are all in trouble, because I believe you understand more than any of us."
"Unfortu
nately, that is the last of the story that is clearly defined by the journals of Orthisius and Reamis. That night marked the writing of their final entries. The story from here on out, is pieced together from other accounts." Telistera interrupted her story for a moment before continuing once more.
On the following morning, the twenty silver-eyed warriors who were to enter the tunnels of the Hungering, gathered at the front line, looking grim and determined. All the levity of the night before was gone, and as the last of the Hungering pushed their way back into their tunnels to avoid the daylight, those twenty knew that a difficult journey awaited them. The burning red eyes could be seen, like a thousand angry torches, watching from the dark entrance to the mountain.
The legendary heroes charged in formation, a blur of graceful motion, spears raised for battle. They disappeared into the tunnel For a time the sounds of battle could be heard, and the red eyes vanished as the Hungering engaged our warriors, but soon enough the sounds of fighting passed, and the red lights came back, watching, waiting for anyone else foolish enough to think they might push their way inside the mountain fortress.
The Tett watched, resting during the day, as it was the only time the Hungering eased their attacks. The brave people could do nothing but wait and hope that the silver-eyed warriors were successful in their endeavor. The day faded into darkness, and the hordes of Hungering poured forth from their caves again, attacking with a renewed vigor, pushing the Tett line harder than ever before.
The two remaining silver-eyed warriors, those who'd been chosen to stay behind, fought all along the front, pushing back the Hungering at every opportunity, but the mundane forces were not so lucky. The silver-eyes pushed, and where they were not, the Hungering pushed harder. The front line began to fall back for the first time since the arrival of the Tett's magic guardians. The chieftains began to worry. They wondered if their silver-eyed hope had died within the deep earthen caves of the Hungering. The Tett fought on.
Days passed. The sunlit hours were filled with hope that the brave twenty who had taken to the earth might re-emerge victorious, but the nights were filled with despair as the heroes failed to materialize and the Hungering pushed harder, and with a terrible renewed vigor. The days of waiting became weeks, and the despair came even in the hours of light. If the twenty survived, than certainly they should have accomplished their task by that time, the disheartened Tett warriors thought.
Every night the front line fell further back, until the cave entrances could not even be seen any longer. With the loss of that spot of land, hope seemed to fade entirely from the fighting men and women of the Tett. They began to lose ground faster, though the two remaining silver-eyed warrior did their best to keep morale up and to push back at the enemy in the darkness. They walked among the troops during the lulls in battle, spreading what hope they might, but even they felt the crippling hopelessness that hung like a funeral pall over the peoples of Tett O Sut.
It was on a night more than a month after the twenty had entered the mountain, while the fighting was at its most brutal, that there came an abrupt change in fates. The Hungering had pressed the Tett to the edge of a river, and were grinding their numbers away against the difficult to cross body of water, when suddenly the red-eyed beasts stopped fighting. They dropped their weapons, their eyes faded from red to blue, and they began to walk away from the battlefield. Some few of the Tett still struck at their numbers, cutting down those who did not escape quickly, but the Hungering ignored it all. They walked away as though they'd never been at war, wandering back into the mountains from which they'd come, until not one of them remained upon the land.
The Tett did not know what had happened, but they did not break the front line. They restructured their forces and advanced back to the cave fronts. The caves were black now, no red lights, nor lights of blue, shining from their dark openings. The tired armies waited, and time began to pass. As weeks went by with no fighting, some villages began to break off from the army, winding their way down from the mountains and back to their homes.
The silver-eyes, it seemed, had been successful, but would they return from the dark underworld? A month and a half passed from the time the twenty had last been seen, and only fifty troops remained at the cave entrance, two of them the other silver-eyed fighters, waiting for the return of their comrades. A motion at the cave's mouth brought everyone to attention. The two silver-eyes ran forward, spears at the ready.
From the realm of the deepest darkness, Orthisius rose, dragging behind him three large wooden boxes, though where the wood had come from to build the boxes, and how the boxes had been constructed, we would never learn. The wood was ornate, and covered in intricate carvings, as though torn from some mural of exquisite beauty and detail. The boxes were each heavy, and constructed with obvious care that they be kept closed.
A tattered figure hung over Orthisius's shoulder, its pale blue hair blowing in the wind. Orthisius himself looked on the verge of death. His body was withered and beaten, his flesh gouged and torn, puss and infection flowing from a multitude of wounds. He crawled upon his knees, dragging himself each step into the light of the full moon that waited above him. As the two silver-eyes rushed to meet him, Orthisius finally collapsed, and the form slumped over his shoulder, fell to the ground as well.
Reamis lay sprawled where Orthisius had dropped him, his arms open wide as if inviting the sky. His face was tattered, torn, and hollow so that he was barely recognizable as the man who went into the mountain. Even as damaged as it was, the once brave man wore a serene expression on his face. Orthisius spoke, drawing everyone's eyes to him.
"These three boxes contain the king of the Hungering." Orthisius said, though the silver-eyed warriors had to lean close to hear his voice. "Split them up. Bury two at opposite ends of our land, and cast the other as far into the sea as you can. Let them never be brought together again. Never open the boxes." Orthisius said the words with such vigor, even in his whispered breath, that the silver-eyed warriors and those others gathered around did not dare question what he said. His message delivered, Orthisius turned to his peaceful friend, casting an arm over the man.
"I told you we would make it, Reamis. You said we were lost, but I told you. . ." Orthisius's voice faltered, faded, and he never spoke again.
The people of the Tett did as they were instructed. They split the three boxes up, sending one to each of the furthest points of land, and loading the other onto a ship and sailing it far out to sea. The boat that sailed to sea never returned, so far did it sail. Those places where the body was buried on land were dug deep into the earth, and no sign was left of the burying so that no one might ever dig them up out of curiosity. Those who buried the bodies made no maps, and told no one of where they had gone to dig the graves. For a time, the Tett lived in peace.
A thousand years passed. Our people never forgot the stories of the silver-eyed warriors, and the brave Orthisius and Reamis. It was because we kept those stories so dear to heart that when the first cave fay was spotted with red glowing eyes, we reacted immediately. We still trained huntsmen, but since the battles of the Hungering, we'd also trained all of our children in the arts of battle. We thought we were ready when they came, fiery-eyed, out of their caves en-mass, though we did not understand what would make the Hungering rise again.
Our strongest and noblest fighters made the sacrifice, and became new warriors of legend. We felt confident. We were ready to repeat the exploits of our past heroes. The Hungering, though, were not as they had been in our legends. They seethed forth from the earth as they had before, but they came, this time, atop great black monsters that breathed fire, and fueled their rampages with the very wood of our buildings, and flesh of our military. The Hungering also brought with them the blue glowing witches whose fire eats through metal, flesh, and bone, each with equal hunger. The witches have eyes that see from shore to shore. We tried to press them back, but we could do nothing before this newly risen horde of death.
Even ou
r silver-eyed warriors died, and though we made more, we could not keep back the tide that came down upon us. The Hungering pushed my people across our homeland, and it was all we could do to retreat fast enough to save any lives as we went. Finally we implemented a plan to sail across the sea, though it was a plan born of desperation. We began to build ships at the coast line, great boats to cross the infinite expanse of ocean. It was better, we thought, to die on the ocean than to be eaten by the enemy.
We finished seven ships, and loaded them with warriors, men, women and children, and we left our land even as the great horde of Hungering fell upon our coast. We did not know that they had already sailed ships of their own. We could not have known that their great black "drakes," could also travel through the endless waters.
Seven ships left our land, but the sea, and the great evils that lay within that dark brine, claimed six of them. Of the Tett who escaped our homeland, only one ship of my people made it to these shores. We came with a message of warning, and in hopes of finding refuge for what remained of our broken people. The Hungering were coming, and we hoped only that we might find someone strong enough to stand against them.