Norek knew the truth. He now understood why Nessa had been so distraught. Why she’d continued to mourn over Tolnik’s death even after he’d been returned to the tribe. She’d seen the truth from Wakinyan. That realization was when the true horror of the situation had hit him. If the Raven Tribe had fallen under the control of these creatures, then how many other Tribes have been corrupted?
Focusing once again on the present, Norek looked down at the stone beneath his hooves. The place he stood was called the Council of the Ancestors by his people. This was where the spirit messengers had summoned him. This was where he would meet his fate. Offering a silent prayer to the Sky-Father, Norek went about the preparations necessary for the vision quest as he began humming a chant in the language of the ancients.
Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)
Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)
Jai om numah heyaho halne yohna. (Search for the truth and you will find.)
Tu nelyo chonga gohea yo choo yohnale. (The strength to fight the evil you have found.)
Using white kaolin clay paint, Norek first laid out the circle of calling on the weathered stone large enough for him to kneel inside. For the body of the Earth-Mother, he laid a heart stone from the plains at the bottom of the circle. For the Sky-Father, Norek removed the colored feathers from his hair. Gently he gently laid them at the top of the circle as his voice rose in volume.
Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)
Tu nalga chelne tolna mondo tae. (You will walk across the plains so wide.)
Oya tol tumma tilna helta hoea. (And up a mountain you will climb.)
Tonne Tohanna tu ulnay. (As a chosen you will find.)
Niza talch Wohano Tulnye tae. (The taste of Alttash’s Tears so fine.)
For death, Norek removed several broken hair-pipe bones from the bag at his waist. The pieces were from the necklace Tolnik had worn on the day he died. Carefully Norek arranged the bones on the left side of the circle as his strong voice was picked up by the wind.
Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)
Moviey Tolchae Lugcha ya. (Speak to the elders of your Tribe.)
Te cholg Wakinya til gal zya. (Or have the Wakinyan take your soul.)
Aya Wani Shivaya yo chago. (Oh Thunder Chief focus your mind.)
Next, Norek took a thick lock of hair from the bag as the chant lowered to a deep, wordless hum. Cautious of the wind, Norek took the hair he’d taken from his daughter on the night he’d left the Thunder Tribe and placed it on the right side of the circle. This, he used to symbolize life.
For the next step, Norek removed the tinnearlian-wood mace from its sheath and the leather utility harness strapped across his chest. Keeping a hold of the bag, he tossed the rest of his gear to the ridge down below. Kneeling inside the circle, he pulled the last three items from the bag, two clay jars of kaolin paint and a small red root, never stopping in his humming chant.
The first color Norek chose was the yellow of the bixa plant. Yellow was for the realm of the Sky-Father and symbolized his reign over death. Slowly covering the left side of his face, Norek marked himself as an honorable warrior, promising his willingness to fight until death.
The second clay jar held a thick black-colored paint. Carefully Norek made the mark of the hand on the right side of his face. Black was the color of the Earth-Mother, symbolizing the realm of life. In this way, Norek showed his readiness for war and his promise of victory.
Lastly, Norek used a sharp stone to slice the palm of his hand open. With his own blood, he transformed the white kaolin into the last color needed. Stirring the mixture with two fingers until it changed into a bright red, he added the last color to his War Mask. The perpendicular lines painted down both cheeks was the call to war.
Finished with his preparations, Norek picked up the small red root, bringing it to his lips. His chant suddenly faltered as fear gripped his heart. Shocked at his lack of faith, Norek felt his whole arm begin to shake as he stared at the Alttash’s Tear in his hand. For the first time in his life, he understood the fear others had for the extremely poisonous root.
Even as a young colt, Norek had never feared the Trial of Luonnotar. Since his earliest memories he’d believed with every fiber of his being that he was a Chosen of Luonnotar, but after failing to kill the creature that had taken over his son’s body, his confidence was shaken. Would Luonnotar still consider him worthy?
In his heart Norek knew that something evil was silently taking over the Tribes. If he wanted to protect his people, then he must know what they faced! He must speak with Luonnotar. As the resolve hardened within his chest, Norek’s hand stop shaking. Standing up straight, he brought the deadly poison to his lips, consuming it with one bite. The needs of his people were too great.
Finished with the preparations, Norek looked to the sky raising his arms out wide to either side of him. Focusing his will he closed the circle. As the energy of the spell rippled closed around him, Norek raised his voice to the sky.
“Oh Great Spirit, I have come to Mount Airy at the behest of your messenger. I ask that you speak with this humble servant of your people.”
Norek could feel the poison of the Alttash’s Tear flowing through his veins. Light headed, he slowly sank to his knees inside the circle of calling looking skyward. With his last breath, he finished the ritual words for the Vision Quest.
“Your people have great need of your ancient wisdom, oh Luonnotar.”
Norek felt his consciousness begin to fade as he laid his head against the weathered rock of the plateau. Around him, the clear blue sky darkened as black clouds began spreading out above the mountain. The sound of his beating heart filled his ears as the heavens split wide open above his head as the spirit world took shape around him.
As the connection to his physical body grew faint, Norek felt his spirit form take shape around him. Slowly he pushed himself up to his hooves. Below him, he saw his physical body still lying atop the stone plateau below. Seeing his spirit form take shape, Norek breathed a sigh of relief. He was still a Chosen!
Hearing the sounds of rolling thunder, Norek looked to the sky once more. As far as the eye could see dark clouds blocked out the sun as the sky began to boil like a caldron. Lightning flashed in rippling waves as the wind began to shriek in its intensity. Norek’s long hair whipped about his head as the black mass began spinning around the mountain. Faster and faster it went until a whirling cyclone formed directly above his head.
As the thick black tentacle descended on top of him, Norek cried out in fear. It wasn’t the impending devastation of the storm that had suddenly turned his blood cold, but the realization that the black seething mass reaching out for him was actually the spirits of the dead. Only in the oldest songs of his people had he ever heard of such a sight!
As the galloping mass of warriors drew near, Norek clearly saw their ghostly faces were painted like his own. Bone breastplates protected their chests and hide armor their withers, while each dead warrior brandished a large two-handed mace high over their head.
The beating of their hooves was the sound of rolling thunder. The shouting of their voices was the blowing wind. Galloping at the head of the formation was the glowing form of the Sky-Father in all of his magnificence. Like a glowing beacon of light cutting through a dark ocean, crackling waves of lightning radiated out from his body throughout the host following behind. As the spirit War Party approached, Norek felt a growing dread forming in his heart.
Although Centaurs preferred to live in harmony with nature and were generally a peaceful people, once angered they were relentless berserkers in battle. Unlike the other races of Irlendria that fought each other in small skirmishes on a regular basis over minor disagreements. When you attacked one Centaur, you went to war with the entire Tribe.
When he was a young buck, such a sight would have made the blood rush in his veins from excitement and a
nticipation, but now as a grizzled veteran of many battles, Norek knew well the terrible costs that came with war. Seeing the Sky-Father leading the charge could only mean sorrowful times ahead for his people. As the War Party soared into him, Norek’s soul was swept up into the howling vortex. Formless rage tried to wipe out all thought, but somehow he didn’t lose himself to the mindless fury of his people.
In his spirit form, Norek realized he could see everything happening around him at once. The land of his people’s home was like nothing he’d seen before. Instead of a living sea of grass, there was now only blackened hard earth as far as the eye could see. Below his hooves Norek saw an endless stream of his people charging across the plains on their way to war.
To the east, the sky glowed red as the Great Forest’s ancient grove burned in a horrendous blaze. In its fiery depths, his people attacked the Elves in relentless waves. The bodies of his people littered the blackened and burned ground thick as fall leaves, but still they rushed onward in their berserker rage destroying everything in their path.
Directly south, Norek saw his people storming the Citadel. Since the massive fortress construction after Irlendria’s first Race Wars almost three thousand years ago, it had never been defeated, but now its thick outer walls burned where they’d been breached. Still, the Citadel’s inner walls held as the battle continued to rage on fiercely. Hundreds of thousands of his people lay dead in heaping piles that ran to the very top of the outer ramparts, but still his people rushed forward blinded by their insatiable fury.
Floating alone above the plains, Norek watched his people with growing horror. Something was terribly wrong. This was against every belief his people held as sacred! What could have driven his people to do such horrendous acts of violence? As he watched, Norek saw something odd he’d initially missed. Spread out amongst the hordes of Centaurs charging into battle were thousands of glowing red auras, leading his people onwards to death and destruction. Even this high above the battlefield the voracious evil radiating out from these creatures froze his soul.
Focusing on the nearest source below him, Norek at first thought there were two creatures standing on top of each other, but as he came nearer he realized his mistake. There was only one. The outer skin of the creature looked like a Centaur, but on the inside, it was a hulking corpse-white mutant standing on two legs. Norek’s eyes narrowed as he immediately recognized the beast. It was Tuonellian Hulk! All around the battlefield, Norek realized the Hulks were leading the Tribes. Unknowingly, his people were being used as pawns of Loviatar. Using cruel whips, they drove his people before them relentlessly.
In the skies above the battlefield, another deadly fight for existence was underway. Coming together in the heavens, the gods of the Alliance joined forces into a massive army of souls. Surrounding his people, they attacked as one. With Luonnotar at their lead, the Tribes fought for their existence as the spiritual world erupted in chaos. Everywhere he looked there was only devastation and war.
A bolt of pure energy exploded in front of him in a blinding flash of light as once again Norek found himself standing on top of Mount Airy. Heart thumping loudly in his chest, Norek choked back the terrible fear of the destruction he’d just witnessed as he looked up in shock. Floating in the air before him was the form of a massive glowing Centaur.
Immediately recognizing his God, Norek collapsed to the ground pressing his forehead to the cold stone of the mountain. Although he had seen the many crafted amulets depicting his god throughout his life, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw now. Squeezing his eyes shut Norek tried to block out the blinding white light, but the vision was seared into his mind
Luonnotar was a God with three aspects. The first was the Earth-Mother, who lived in the land beneath their hooves, representing birth and life. Her domain was that of the living. She ensured that the Tribes continued life and the abundance of the land, teaching her people to live in balance with the world around them. She was the mother of all Centaurs.
The second was the Sky-Father, who lived in the heavens and represented war and death. His domain was the Spirit Ream and the heavens. Watching over the souls of the dead, he guided the Tribes into tomorrow.
Norek had met both aspects during his time as Chief of the Thunder Tribe, but never before had he met the combined aspects, until now. Luonnotar was both beautiful and terrible to behold, representing the Spirit of Nature. The Tribes believed that all Centaurs were created equal. Both the male and female essences were essential parts of the same whole. One was not greater than the other since both were needed equally for the Tribes harmony and continued life. In this form, reddish-purple blooms of Alttash’s Tears grew around its body, while the rainbow-hued feathered plumes of the Great Thunderbird were woven into the long white mane cascading down its back. Before Norek could take in more, Luonnotar’s voice rang inside his head with an intensity that removed all thought.
“Norek, son of Manitou, Chief of the Thunder Tribe, heed my warning. If not, all that I have shown to you will come to pass.” Gripping the rock of the mountain with both hands, Norek’s whole body shook from the sound. “Your daughter must agree to undertake the Yatra if the Tribes are to have any chance of survival.”
Norek heart skipped a beat. His mind clinging to Luonnotar’s words as his thoughts raced. During the Tribes long history, there had only been eight questors and each had earned the Tribes greatest badge of honor, the mark of Nakutu. Any Centaur with the mark of Nakutu was beyond reproach, exemplifying the highest concepts of honor, bravery, and self-sacrifice that all Centaurs held sacred.
Questors left everything behind when they chose to accept the Yatra. No family, no friends, no Tribe, they gave up everything. Except for the Staff of Yatri and the mark of a questor, they owned nothing until the quest was complete.
Tribal laws were very strict when it came to questors. Anyone wearing the mark of the Yatra would not be questioned or stopped. Nessa would be able to go anywhere, and not even a corrupt Chieftain could challenge her right. For his daughter to be so honored nearly broke his heart with pride, but at the same time, his soul was deeply troubled. Being a questor always came at a terrible cost and Nessa had already lost too much.
“She must seek out the last Paladin of Ukko.”
Pushing himself to his knees, Norek cried out distraught. “Then all is lost, Great Spirit! The Klavikians were destroyed nine years ago. There are no Paladins left within the world.”
Instead of anger, there was only a deep sadness in Luonnotar’s next words. “There is one Paladin that yet lives, Norek, son of Manitou. Although he is not on Irlendria, he will be soon. Nessa must seek him in the Great Forest of the Elves.”
Surging to his hooves, every tendon stuck out of Norek’s body as he forced himself to meet Luonnotar’s blazing eyes yelling at the top of his lungs. He would not lose his daughter like he’d lost his son! “Take me in her place, Sky-Father!”
Floating back into the heavens, Luonnotar answered Norek’s plea calmly. “You already have your part to play in this, Thunder Chief. For the sake of your people, I hope you choose your next course of action wisely.”
Leaping into the air, Norek followed after Luonnotar. With every fiber of his being, he drove his soul after the slowly disappearing god. Higher and higher he flew willing himself back into the Spirit Realm when lightning suddenly crashed around him. In a blinding flash of light the Sky-Father was gone.
“Nooo!” For a long moment, Norek could only stare at the empty blue sky before him in shock when he suddenly felt it as if a massive hand was wrapping around his chest. A second later he was being pulled irresistibly back towards the ground.
Focusing his thoughts, Norek strained against the force with all of his might, but it was of no help. Suddenly the air gave away beneath his hooves, and he was falling back towards the mountaintop far below. As he fell, Norek realized what was happening. Now that the vision quest was complete his soul was being summoned back to his body against its will
.
Normally, Luonnotar sent spirit animals to guide the chosen on their visions quests. If not, the Questor could go astray and lose where they had left their bodies and never return to the realm of the living. Never before had he heard of such a thing like this happening. Screaming in wordless rage, Norek felt his soul slam back into his body as his voice echoed in his ears.
“Nnnooo!” Eyes flying open, Norek sucked in a ragged lungful of air. Springing to his hooves, he looked around wildly searching for any sign of Luonnotar, but there was none. Once again he was alone on top of the mountain.
Tears streaming down his craggy face, Norek stood unmoving for a long time looking across the plains with a heavy heart. With grave resolve, he contemplated the message that he’d been given to deliver as the wind pulled at his long black mane. There was something about Nessa that Luonnotar believed could save the world, and he was expected to ask his last surviving child to undertake the Yatra in her current condition.
Thinking about the terrible grief Nessa was suffering from, Norek shook his head sadly. She was in no shape to take care of herself let alone undertake a Yatra. Searching the sky, Norek silently cried out in anguish.
“Tell me, Teshna, what should I do?”
No answer came. His wife had died long ago during the Great War, but he still talked to her daily. Even though she wasn’t here, he sometimes felt her loving hand guiding his decisions. Searching his heart, he felt her soothing touch on his soul. Once the Yatra was completed, he would ask Luonnotar once again to be allowed to join Teshna in the spirit realm.
Looking into the sky once more, Norek came to a decision. It would have to be him. Luonnotar would have to understand. Wiping his tears away, Norek climbed down from the Council of the Ancestors. Gathering up his discarded gear, he quickly began strapping everything into place.
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