Warrior: The War Chronicles I

by Sean Golden

  “Oh Lirak,” she breathed. “I thought I lost you.”

  Lirak reached up in spite of the pain in his shoulder and took Mayrie’s hand in his own. Mayrie leaned down until her forehead rested on Lirak’s chest. She sniffled for a moment and then turned so that her left ear rested on Lirak’s chest while her right hand stroked what remained of his thick black hair. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “I’ll live,” Lirak said.

  “I was so scared when Jerok pulled you out. Your hair was on fire and your back was smoking.”

  “It hurt.”

  Mayrie raised her head and looked down at Lirak.

  “You idiot!” she said, and punched him on the chest. “What were you thinking? Were you mad?”

  Lirak chuckled, somehow even the pain Mayrie’s punch sent through his neck and shoulders seemed a welcome thing. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

  “Well, don’t do anything stupid.” She punctuated the word with another blow to his chest, “like that again.” Another punch.

  Lirak smiled and squeezed her hand. She lay her head back on his chest and they did not move or talk for several moments.

  “Mayrie?”

  “Hmmm?” Mayrie said.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About dreaming of you.”

  Mayrie raised her head and the moonlight caught her face, making it glow like a vision. Lirak felt he had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “And?” Mayrie prompted.

  “I don’t know what I should do,” Lirak said and Mayrie’s brow furrowed in concern.

  “What do you want to do, Lirak?” she asked.

  Lirak looked into Mayrie’s eyes and felt himself falling into a deep pool of warmth.

  “I want you,” he said.

  A smile crept across Mayrie’s face starting at her lips and moving up to her eyes.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Lirak said.

  “Oh. That’s nice.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  Mayrie leaned forward again and tenderly kissed Lirak. She laid her head on his chest and gently stroked his cheek. Lirak had never felt so peaceful. The song of sending finally came to an end and they could hear the villagers starting to move around.

  “I have to go,” Mayrie said.

  “I know.”

  “Get better.”

  “I’ve never felt better.”

  Tears welled up in Mayrie’s eyes as she leaned forward for one last kiss. Lirak sighed as Mayrie vanished into the night. He touched his lips and wondered how a person could be filled with such overwhelming pain, grief and joy at the same time.

  Pawns

  The cat and mice may play, but the mice never win.

  – Dwon parable

  Lirak lay carefully motionless in his slimy bed. As long as he stayed still, the pain in his head, neck and shoulders would recede to a throbbing ache, but when he moved daggers shot through the burned areas and he had to bite his lip sometimes to avoid crying out. He felt trapped and cornered. His body cried out for sleep, but his mind recoiled from the increasingly vivid dreams of endless death and destruction. His mind wanted to get up and move, but his body yearned for rest and relief from pain.

  “Lirak.” Jerok’s deep voice intruded on his internal struggles and he reluctantly opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly toward the voice, sending needles of pain through his neck and scalp.

  “Jerok,” Lirak’s voice sounded like a croaking toad. “What’s happening?”

  “The elders are meeting.” Jerok sounded tired. But more than that, his voice betrayed tension and anger held in check.

  “What’s wrong?” Lirak asked, his eyes following as Jerok stepped forward to stand beside Lirak’s bed.

  “With Kodul dead, Sampt is stirring up trouble. His followers are demanding that you be exiled.” Jerok’s voice was strained with emotion. “Sampt will try to take Kodul’s place.”

  “I see,” Lirak sighed. “I am tired, Jerok.”

  “You don’t get it.” Jerok’s voice was like the hiss of an angry snake. “More villagers join Sampt every day. Mother was spit on yesterday. People avoid me. And it’s all your fault!”

  “Jerok, you can’t blame me,” Lirak pleaded. “I didn’t ask for these dreams.” Lirak’s head was swimming now, a throbbing ache settled behind his eyes.

  “Now Mayrie defends you and has lost friends.” Jerok’s eyes hardened. “Mayrie should have been mine.”

  Lirak watched as Jerok clenched and unclenched his large hands, his shoulder and arm muscles bunching as he did so.

  “Jerok, I…” he faltered, “… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

  “And now there’s this box,” Jerok swore, “Mother won’t tell me what it is, but I know what it is. It’s an evil thing from across the sea. Evil comes from across the sea, just as Sampt says.”

  A sliver of fear sent a chill up Lirak’s back. Jerok leaned over, his face coming within inches of Lirak’s as sweat dripped onto Lirak’s bedding.

  “I am sorry, brother.” Lirak could think of nothing else to say.

  “Brother,” Jerok breathed. “Brother? Are you really my brother Lirak? Look at you! Look at me! Why did Father leave us? Because of you Lirak.”

  “Jerok, calm down,” Lirak pleaded. “Of course we are brothers.”

  “Sampt says otherwise,” Jerok said, and Lirak suddenly realized that Jerok had spoken directly with Sampt.

  “You can’t believe Sampt!” Lirak was shocked. “He plays with your mind Jerok. He sets you against me for his own reasons.” Lirak took a deep breath and reached out in spite of the pain and took Jerok’s hand. “Sampt tried to kill Soonya and me, Jerok. That fire was no accident.”

  Jerok looked confused for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “The door’s laces were cut Jerok. I heard someone running from the hut when I woke up in the fire.”

  Jerok stood up, and pulled his hand away from Lirak’s. “I don’t believe you. Dwon don’t kill Dwon.”

  “You will have to choose who to believe Jerok; your own brother or the man who tried to kill me and your mother.”

  Jerok stood silently for a moment.

  “Jerok, did you see the box?” Lirak asked.

  Jerok looked down at Lirak, but his mind seemed far away. “Yes. Mother showed it to me.”

  “What’s inside?”

  “I don’t know. Mother said it can’t be opened except by magic.” Jerok’s eyes narrowed. “She said to keep it away from you.”

  Lirak was surprised to find he was not surprised. “Jerok, I think that box has something to do with Father leaving.”

  “How is that possible?” Jerok said.

  “It’s a link to Mother’s past. It’s the only thing she has from that past.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter.” Jerok shrugged. “We can’t open it anyway.”

  Lirak felt a sudden sense of certainty wash over him, and the voice inside his head whispered you can, you must.

  “Jerok, I need to see that box.”

  “No! I decide for this family now. You will not touch it.” Jerok’s voice rose with each word.

  He has it. Lirak realized, unsure if his own mind had determined this or if it was the voice in his head. Either way Lirak was certain of it.

  “Jerok, you must not listen to Sampt.” Lirak’s voice was now a weak croak. “Sampt tried to kill Mother.”

  Jerok turned away and faced the hut’s door. Then, without a word, he strode through the door, and then was gone.

  Lirak lay quietly in bed, allowing the pains in his body to ebb to manageable levels. There was something nagging at him, something wasn’t right, and his mind worried at it like a dog with a bone.

  “This isn’t like Sampt,” Lirak finally said out loud. Sampt was not this clever, this subtle. Then suddenly in his mind he saw a vision of Kodul in the elder’s hut saying “You aren’t the only one who dreams.”

  Coul
d it be true? Could Sampt be having dreams and following them as Lirak and Kodul had?

  A cold hand seemed to clutch at Lirak’s chest. If so, who spoke to Sampt in his dreams? Suddenly Lirak had a sense of being a game piece in a deadly and complex game. There were forces at play here that were beyond Lirak’s experience to understand.

  A whisper in his mind sighed yes, you begin to see. And with that whisper Lirak felt he caught a sense of satisfaction, even pride. Then he fell asleep and was again dreaming the brutal dreams of his future.

  Ko’Teraka

  Faydah’s web of fate is spun with threads of duty and honor. But where duty and honor are sparse, spite and jealousy will serve.

  – Dwon oral tradition

  Their new hut was not as well maintained as their old hut had been, so Lirak and Soonya had added heavy fur blankets to their bedding to fight off the frigid winds which blew through the cracks in the walls and underneath the sagging thatch of the roof. With Lirak still unable to engage in strenuous activities as his neck and shoulders healed, Jerok had done what he could to improve the hut, but with the entire village in confusion after Kodul’s death, Jerok was rarely able to attend to Soonya’s or Lirak’s needs. Or he had other reasons to stay away. Mayrie’s daily visits were the bright spot of Lirak’s day.

  Lirak sat outside the hut on a rare warm day which brought with it a hint of coming Spring. Allowing the sun to warm him, he slowly and deliberately chipped away at his knife blade. His neck and shoulders no longer hurt just to move, but Hetyl had insisted that he continue to slather the ill-smelling slimy poultice on the burns each day and to “take it easy.” That was one reason Lirak was outside the foul-smelling hut, the poultice didn’t make the hut smell any better. Looking down at the translucent, multi-colored obsidian, Lirak felt a sense of satisfaction, even pride. The blade was nearly perfect in his eyes. He could see or feel no flaw, and the basic shape of the blade was complete. All he had left now was the final fine pressure flaking which created the even, razor-sharp edge, and even that was nearly halfway complete. He knew that he could have finished the blade much faster, but he deliberately took his time with each and every flake. There was no rush.

  Leaning back against the hut on his stool, Lirak’s ears perked up as he recognized the sound of Soonya’s footsteps returning to the hut. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs, put the promising blade back into its protective pouch, and then went back inside the hut to wait.

  “Mother,” he said as Soonya entered the hut.

  “Yes?” Soonya’s eyes were wary as she placed a wooden bowl with a small amount of smoked venison and cheese on the table.

  “It’s time that we talked about the fire.”

  Soonya sighed. “Yes. It is.” She seemed almost relieved, as if she had been dreading this moment for long enough that she was just glad to get it over with.

  “Why?” Lirak asked.

  Soonya did not pretend to misunderstand. “The box,” she said simply.

  “Yes, the box,” Lirak said. “What was so important that I almost died for?”

  Tears brimmed over Soonya’s eyelids. “Lirak, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said, her voice low and lost. “I didn’t know the fire had gone so far. I panicked; I didn’t even really know what I was saying.” She reached forward to touch Lirak’s cheek. “You must believe me; I would never have sent you into the fire. I tried to call you back.”

  Lirak! No! Lirak remembered the shouted words.

  “It wasn’t just you Mother,” Lirak said. “I wouldn’t have gone back into the hut just because you asked. Something drove me to get the box,” he said.

  Both stood quietly for a moment, and then Soonya pulled a stool out from under the small table and sat down. Lirak did the same, and the two sat for a moment chewing on bread, venison and cheese.

  “What is it? Can I see it?” Lirak asked.

  Soonya silently chewed the last of her bread and sat quietly for a long moment, her eyes appraising Lirak in a way Lirak had never seen her look at him before. The silence grew to the point that it was making Lirak uncomfortable before Soonya finally spoke.

  “No,” she said. “It’s best that you forget the box for now. Perhaps someday.”

  “That won’t happen,” Lirak replied, his temper starting to rise as he looked at his mother and saw something like a stranger sitting across from him. “I won’t forget.”

  “You won’t be able to open it, even if you try.” Soonya said, but her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “And even if you did, it would do nothing but bring pain and suffering on you and the entire village.”

  Lirak stared, his mouth hanging open slightly. Soonya sat stiffly, her gray eyes giving no hint of emotion.

  “You don’t believe what you’re saying, do you?” Lirak asked as comprehension slowly began to dawn. “You are afraid that I will be able to open it. Why? What is it?”

  “It’s something from another world.” Soonya replied, “A world best forgotten.”

  “You gave it to Jerok,” he said, and Soonya’s reaction confirmed it.

  “It’s not your concern Lirak.” She reached out again, but this time Lirak drew back from her touch. He saw tears form in her eyes. “Please trust me Lirak. I’m trying to protect you, to protect all of us.”

  “There’s some connection between the box and my dreams.” Lirak was almost thinking out loud now. “Kodul said other people had spirit dreams.” He gazed intently at his mother. “Do you?”

  Soonya took a long moment to reply. Then, almost sadly it seemed, she said “No Lirak, not me. I was spared that burden, but you are right, there are others. Your father…. dreamed.”

  “Mother, Kodul told me that you were a princess across the Dragon Sea. Is that true?”

  Soonya’s face went white. “Vorik should not have told him.”

  “It is true,” Lirak said. “A princess, yet you came back with Father. Why?”

  Soonya took a deep breath and sighed. “Your father saved me Lirak. My family, my world was lost as they came and destroyed everything. You can’t imagine the power they have or the evil they spread. The last time I saw my father he gave me the box and told me I had to keep it from them. That it held the key to some great power they wanted. He sent me away with your father while he tried to fight them. But they were too many, and too strong.”

  “I need to open that box,” Lirak insisted.

  “Not yet. Not until you are older,” she said. “There is great danger in the box.”

  Lirak stood, knocking the stool over and he strode from the tent, leaving Soonya reaching out futilely as tears flowed down her face.

  Kodul’s chair was empty in the elders’ hut, and it had been moved to one side while Chutan’s chair had been moved to the center where the eagle totem chair had once been. Sampt’s chair was empty too.

  “You have had another dream.” Chutan’s voice was almost faint with weariness. Lirak had never realized how frail and old Chutan was before now. Kodul’s death had hit him hard. Traze and Asok looked tired, but neither looked as weary as Chutan.

  Lirak nodded, unsure how to describe his dream, and even more unsure how to suggest that somehow his dream had caused Kodul’s death.

  “I am saddened by Kodul’s passing.” Lirak began, and the elders all nodded. “I have to know something about spirit dreams,” he continued.

  “Spirit dreams are difficult to explain Lirak; there is much we don’t know,” Asok said.

  “I know that Kodul had spirit dreams,” Lirak pushed forward. “Do any of you have spirit dreams as Kodul did?” he asked.

  There was a long pause and he could see Traze and Asok shaking their heads, then Asok closed his eyes and sighed.

  “This is very important,” Lirak said. “I have to know something about these dreams, and Kodul was the only one who I knew had them.”

  “I have had spirit dreams,” Asok finally said. “But only rarely and I depended on Kodul too. Lirak, you have had more spirit
dreams than I have had.”

  “But nobody has taught me what they mean,” Lirak said. He looked around the room at the drawn and tired faces of the elders. “Kodul told me that the dreams are dangerous. He told me that they could show the past or the future, but that when they showed the present, they were a window to another reality.”

  “Yes, that much is true.” Asok nodded.

  “Then tell me this,” Lirak pressed on. “Can you die in a spirit dream?”

  The hut grew silent. Traze and Chutan looked intently at Asok, seemingly as interested in the answer as Lirak himself was.

  “Kodul warned me that was a danger of spirit dreams.” Asok finally conceded, shifting his stunted body awkwardly in his chair.

  “I have another question, even more important,” Lirak said, his voice breaking as his emotions overcame him. “Can two spirits be in the same dream?”

  Chutan looked to Asok as well.

  “Yes, Lirak,” Asok replied, “Kodul and I shared a spirit dream once, long ago.”

  “I think Kodul died in a spirit dream then,” Lirak said, looking down as hot tears burned in his eyes, “and it’s my fault that he died.”

  There was again silence in the hut.

  “Tell us of your dream, Lirak,” Chutan finally said. So Lirak related the dream with the dragons and the battle between the eagles and dragons.

  The ensuing silence in the hut was too much for Lirak.

  “I didn’t know!” he cried. “I didn’t mean for it to happen!”

  Asok finally responded. “Lirak, your dream may be what you think, but we don’t know what happened to Kodul. He was old; his time would have come soon anyway. And even if what you believe is true, then Kodul fought to protect you, and had he not done so, then perhaps it would have been you who we sent to Kathoias’, not Kodul. If the dream means nothing, then you have no reason to blame yourself, and if the dream is real, then Kodul made his own choice. Kodul always told us that Kathoias had a plan for you. He would be proud to know that his death allowed that plan to proceed.”