The Way to Freedom: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5): An Epic Fantasy Action Adventure (The Way to Freedom Series)

by H. M. Clarke

  Once her breath settled to a more normal rhythm, Dearen opened her eyes and looked about her. The company had been travelling mostly uphill all morning from the plateau of Zimbalardan with only one rest just after midday in the saddle of two peaks. Her feet throbbed with complaint and that in itself reminded her that they had tramped over two joined mountain peaks to get here.

  The she-oak that Dearen and Hauga were resting against bordered the end point of a large open clearing and was one of twelve She-oaks that were planted evenly around the edge of a large clearing. The clearing itself was a large oval shape with enough space to hold several hundred people with ease. The grass had been clipped back into a neat lawn and looked bright and green in the late afternoon sun. At the western end of the clearing stood a large finger of rough hewn stone that cast a long shadow across the clearing. The stone stood over twelve feet tall and dominated the clearing – even the old majestic she-oaks.

  The stone stood on the far edge of Dearen’s sight, the evening sun high in the sky behind it casting its face in shadow but in the darkness of the rock face Dearen could just see the faint outline of a shape carved into its surface.

  ‘Hauga, what is that?’

  ‘What is what?’ The Dymarki replied.

  ‘That stone at the other end of the clearing. What is it?

  Hauga turned his golden gaze to the far end of the clearing. The sun now hovered above the stone finger as if it was balancing on its tip.

  ‘That stone is called the Claw of the West and was raised by the First Cearc of the Dymarki. This is Councilmeet. This is the place where the Dymarki Council of Elders meets to discuss points of law, problems and elections. When the Council is in session it is also our law court and the Cearc stands in judgment of all cases. The Claw of the West signifies the Cearc as the First Elder among the Council of Elders and the final authority on all matters.’

  ‘What is carved on it? I can see some markings but I cannot see them in the shadows.’

  Dearen adjusted a leg to a more comfortable position and her muscles screamed in pain in protest of the move.

  ‘The carving on the stone shows the current mark of the Cearc. The stone is an object of power and will proclaim the mark of the current Cearc. Usually there would be two carvings on the stone, the second shows the mark of the Cearc’s heir.’

  ‘But Hauga, I see the shape of two carvings.’

  ‘You do?’ Hauga turned back to the stone and stared long and hard at it. After a moment he said, ‘You’re not going to like this Dearen.’

  ‘Why, what is it?’

  ‘The Claw of the West will also show the mark of the Cearc’s heir, and my eyes tell me that the stone bears the exact image of that leaping ram tattoo that you wear on your face. The Claw of the West recognizes you as heir to the Dymarki leadership.’

  Hauga turned to look at her, a big smile on his face.

  ‘The stone has welcomed you into our family and has found you worthy to be Cearc. That is proof enough for all that you are now truly Dymarki.’

  Dearen looked up at Hauga, her face slack with shock.

  ‘I do not think you have seen that carving properly Hauga.’

  ‘I can see it very well Dearen. And it has the Mark of the Leaping Ram below the Mark of the Cearc.’

  ‘What poffle!’ Dearen said as she rose gingerly to her feet. Her legs protested at this added demand for work and began to quiver. Dearen flung an arm out against the tree trunk to steady herself, and then cursed herself for a stubborn fool for pushing herself to hard. A drunken sparrow would be able to knock her down much less a Northerner.

  Hauga leapt to his feet to help steady her with a paw under her arm.

  ‘Here, you should not be moving. You need to give your body more rest.’

  ‘No Hauga. I’m going to have a closer look at that stone myself.’

  Dearen felt Hauga’s supporting paw stiffen and she looked up to see the look of horror on Hauga’s face.

  ‘You cannot step foot onto the Councilmeet Dearen, not without the express permission of the Cearc and the Elder Council.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to look anyway. If I’m heir I should be allowed to look.’

  Hauga quickly shook his head.

  ‘No Dearen. Being an heir does not give you the right to step foot on Councilmeet. I am the heir to Clan Mufista and yet I cannot step onto Councilmeet’s hallowed ground.

  ‘So it’s really that important?’

  ‘Yes it is. The Councilmeet is sacred ground. Just like the Hall of the Black Bison is to the Pydarki. A death sentence is demanded of anyone who sets foot upon the Councilmeet who is not a Clan Elder or the Cearc.’

  ‘Alright Hauga. I won’t go. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’ Dearen drew a deep breath to calm herself. ‘You will have to excuse me, I’m just sore and tired.’

  ‘Well and good then, but you should get more rest.’ Hauga replied as he helped Dearen back to the ground.

  ‘I probably should get some sleep.’ Dearen said by way of apology.

  ‘Yes you should.’ Hauga sat down again beside her. ‘Don’t worry. If anything interesting happens I’ll wake you. Anyway, a little sleep will make you look better for when the Cearc comes to look you over.’

  But Dearen did not hear Hauga’s last words as she had fallen into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Attack!

  It was dark when Dearen awoke. She lifted her head from its resting-place on Hauga’s shoulder and sleepily brushed away a mouthful of fur from her mouth with her fingers. Dearen looked blearily around her for a moment before remembering where they were. Beside her, Hauga was still sound asleep, his arms crossed over his chest and his long legs tucked up against his body.

  The rest of the Dymarki were lounging around them though they sat further back from the clearing. Hauga’s warning about stepping foot within the clearing echoed within her mind. Herself and Hauga were the only ones who sat right up against the boundary of Councilmeet.

  A sound cut through the silence around her and Dearen jerked around to stare into the open clearing. The half moon was low in the night sky behind the Claw of the West and it cast a silvery light on the landscape. Dark silhouettes moved around the base of the tall finger of stone. Dearen crept forwards towards the edge of the clearing to try and get a closer look. Her muscles felt stiff but the ache and soreness were gone. But she just had to get closer to find out what was going on.

  Dearen recognized Ghrista’s tall form standing near the Claw of the West along with the four other Clan Leaders as they turned into the moonlight. Directly before the great finger of stone stood a figure that Dearen did not recognize. The Dymarki was nearly as tall as Hauga and stood in deep conversation with the five Clan leaders. Dearen watched them as the moon slowly rose higher in the night sky and as the moonlight spilled over the tip of the stone she finally got a good look at the stranger.

  The Dymarki was stockier than the Clan leaders and the fur was short and thick and reminded Dearen of new powdered snow. This must be the Cearc and she did not look happy in her conversation with the Clan leaders around her. Dearen looked back at the She-oak to find Hauga still sleeping. Dearen crept back and nudged Hauga awake.

  ‘Hnh – what!’ Hauga jerked awake and blinked his cat slit eyes to adjust them to the moonlight.

  ‘Shush Hauga. Your father and the four other Clan Elders are by the Claw in the clearing.’

  ‘How long have we slept?’

  ‘I think I’ve been asleep for about four hours.’

  ‘Have there been any reports regarding where the Northern Bareskins are?’ Hauga asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve only been awake for a short time,’ Dearen replied as she glanced quickly about them. There was no-one close enough to see them or hear what little noise they made.

  ‘I thought they would have been here by now.’

  Hauga moved forward to get a better look at the sky from under the branches of the She-Oak. Dearen had to rest
rain herself from grabbing at him, afraid that the Dymarki in the clearing would see him. Hauga would be careful, he could be as silent as the grave when he wished to be. Her newfound brother slipped silently back beside her.

  ‘It’s nearly midnight Dearen. Those Bareskins should have made their presence felt by now. If this was the direction they came.’

  ‘Perhaps they’ve missed Councilmeet and kept heading east?’

  Hauga’s golden eyes regarded her in the moonlight.

  ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this Dearen. We’ve got to see if Ghrista has heard anything back from the scouts.’

  Dearen and Hauga crept to the edge of the clearing and looked out at the gathering. Dearen could see that the discussion was still going strong from the stiff stances from the Clan Elders. The white Dymarki who Dearen took to be the Cearc herself now stood straight and tall, her arms crossed across her broad chest. It was obvious that the Cearc had made a decision about something that was contrary to what the Clan Elders are recommending and she was definitely not going to change her mind about it. Then Ghrista turned and looked directly at them and nodded.

  Dearen ducked back guiltily behind the bushes, afraid that Ghrista would be angry with them for spying. She heard Hauga snigger at her reaction and she glanced angrily at him.

  ‘I’ve just had a word with him. Ghrista is going to come over. They have been trying to convince the Cearc to leave here. The rest of the families living here have already left but Ghrista said she is having none of it, she will not be run out of her home by Bareskins. She also wants to meet the person whose mark appeared on the Claw of the West this morning.’

  Dearen threw Hauga a dirty look.

  ‘You could have warned me!’ Dearen was about to say more when she abruptly felt the tingling sensation flare up in the back of her mind. She nearly gasped aloud in pain and Dearen had to stop herself from clutching at her head.

  ‘Dearen. What is it? Do you need more rest to recover?’

  She felt Hauga’s arm slip about her shoulders and his hand stroke her hair but the sensation at the back of her mind was not soothed. Instead it grew steadily stronger.

  ‘Hauga, I think I’m being warned. Something horrible is about to happen.’ Both of them slowly rose to their feet and looked at those gathered on Councilmeet.

  Ghrista bowed to the Cearc and then started across the clearing towards them. The others watched him go before returning to their mental conversation. Ghrista had come halfway across Councilmeet when a soft whistling filled the air. Dearen looked up to see a multitude of thin black shapes silhouetted briefly against the night sky before arching to the ground.

  ‘Attack, we are under attack!’

  Hauga suddenly let go of her and bellowed out a roar that nearly deafened Dearen.

  The black shapes showered onto the Councilmeet and Dearen watched in horror as the Dymarki leaders collapsed under their onslaught.

  ‘Ghrista!’ Dearen cried out as she watched Ghrista stumble to a halt at Hauga’s shout, behind him the others lay unmoving, pierced with arrows. Then around the western end of Councilmeet torches flared to life and another shower of arrows rained down on the figures slumped before the Claw of the West. Behind Dearen heard the Dymarki force scrambling to their feet.

  ‘Father, get undercover!’ Dearen heard Hauga call out. The red light from the torches showed that the four Dymarki Elders were dead, killed by red fletched arrows. The Cearc herself was pierced in the back by several arrows and was slumped against the great stone. Above the Cearc’s body, the Claw of the West seemed to shudder and Dearen watched as the carvings on the stone finger quickly blurred and faded away to unmarked stone. The Cearc was dead.

  Ghrista wrenched his eyes from the scene and began sprinting towards them but then he stopped suddenly.

  Ghrista’s eyes glazed over and the Dymarki slowly slumped to his knees before falling sideways onto the soft grass of the Councilmeet.

  ‘Ghrista No!’

  Dearen stared at the Dymarki leader I disbelief. What had happened?

  ‘Father!’

  At Hauga’s anguished cry she noticed the red fletched arrow that protruded from the base of Ghrista’s neck. Around them on the clearings edge, the rest of the Dymarki host assembled but none dared set foot upon the sacred ground. Dearen could feel Hauga’s despair over their link and her own grief nearly over whelmed her, tears pricked at her eyes. But as Dearen held back her grief she could feel the tingling in her head settle in readiness.

  “Arranians,” she hissed with a spit of hatred.

  As if the sound of her voice summoned them, Bareskins slipped deliberately into the edge of the clearing all with red fletched arrows knocked to their bowstrings and pointing straight at them. The Dymarki around her all growled with the sacrilege before them.

  One Arranian strode forward across the clearing and nudged the dead Ghrista with the toe of his boot.

  Anger, fear and grief all flushed through Dearen as the Arranian drew his knife and bent to Ghrista’s head and grabbed a black tufted ear.

  “Get your filthy barbarian hands off of him.”

  Dearen stepped forward from the group. Her words though low were filled with menace and danger.

  “Well what have we got here?” the man said but he did not remove his hand from Ghrista’s ear. His voice held a hint of amusement and Dearen felt the sudden urge to wipe his malicious grin from his face.

  She took another step forward. Dearen’s swirling emotions now settled into two she could understand, anger and vengeance. Behind her she could hear the murmuring of the Dymarki. She had set foot on their sacred ground, they could deal with her later.

  “I understand that you are of barbarian ilk so I will repeat my request. Get your filthy barbarian hands off of him. If you do not comply you and your so called men will not see home again.”

  The smile dropped from his face for a moment only to be replaced by a hesitant laughter.

  “The words of a lone Hatar Kalar do not scare me girl. You and your Icetigers are surrounded. I have over two hundred archers here and you have naught to match them.” The man did release Ghrista’s ear but his knife was not sheathed.

  ‘Hauga, make sure that everyone is behind me,’ she said quickly. Dearen could sense some sentient power in this man, perhaps that is how the Arranians approached them undetected. They had sentients among them.

  ‘We are all behind you now. The Claw of the West has declared in your favor.’ Hauga suddenly said. ‘But I still wish that Asnar was here.’

  ‘So do I.’

  Dearen heard movement behind her and then felt Hauga’s huge paw on her shoulder. Her eyes did not leave that of the Arranian who took a backward step away from Ghrista.

  “I give you one last chance to get from here and to never return to our lands.”

  In answer the man slowly raised his knife high above him. They were not going to retreat.

  Suddenly Dearen’s vision went red as the Arranian dropped his knife.

  “Fire!”

  Click.

  Heat flared quickly through her body and Dearen threw up her hands in an effort to direct the power she felt coursing through her. Dearen did not have the slightest idea of what she was doing but knew in her heart that it was the only thing she could do to help her people.

  As the arrows flew towards them, her hands erupted in a giant ball of silvery blue fire that flattened and swept out rapidly before her, engulfing each man it touched in a pillar of silver fire, burning them quickly to ash. The shafts of the loosed arrows burnt instantly to embers, leaving the metal arrowheads to drop to the grass of Councilmeet in molten metal drops.

  The fire seemed to travel forever as it disappeared from Councilmeet into the forest and was only seen when a pillar of fire suddenly appeared among the dark tree trunks. Dearen felt the tingling in her mind, felt the death of every man that was killed and hated herself for causing their pain. But one look at Ghrista’s lifeless body reminded Dearen why she
did this.

  Then the tingling was suddenly gone and Dearen dropped to her knees in exhaustion, she was never going to do that again. Tears ran down her face as the agony and pain that each man felt as they died echoed through her own body. What had she done?

  ‘Dearen, Dearen are you all right?’

  Dearen felt comforting hands on her shoulders and cried out as the last wave of pain flushed through her. She collapsed spent on the ground beside Ghrista.

  ‘You and the others can kill me now Hauga for stepping out on Councilmeet.’

  ‘You had the right to step out here, just as I do now. I am now the Clan Elder for Mufista and the Claw of the West had declared you as Cearc before you even set foot on Councilmeet.’

  I’m not going to die? Dearen thought as she felt the now familiar pull into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Six

  The Tunnaig

  Dearen stood in the warm morning sunlight on the grounds of Councilmeet staring silently at the Claw of the West. The large finger of stone stood starkly against the clear blue of the cloudless sky and it looked darker than yesterday when Dearen first saw it at twilight. It was as if the Claw had changed from its natural powdered grey to the dark charcoal grey color as a sign of mourning for those who had died at midnight.

  The bodies of the slain were cremated at dawn in a communal pyre that seared away all trace of those that once was. The songs of passage were sung and the souls of the dead were fare welled to their next life carried in the arms of Flattu, Lord of the Winds. As these funeral pyres were being lit, Dearen thought of the small group she had sent back to Zimbalardan to burn the slain who were left there.

  Graven near the head of the stone was the outline of a tigers head in profile. This was the Mark of the Cearc and in the area of the mane was the image of the Leaping Ram - An exact duplicate of the tattoo on her cheek.