Warrior: The War Chronicles I

by Sean Golden

  Lirak dreamed. Again he was an eagle, flying high above the forest. At first he flew above the forest, with the wall of mountains to the west and the endless forest to the east, and the great river flowing through the forest. Looking down at his village he saw the village in flames. The huts were burning and bodies lay everywhere.

  The burning was not just at his village though. Looking further to the east he saw another village, much like his own, burning too. And on the river there were great floating huts filled with strange almost-men. These almost-men were like insects, but with two feet. They moved like ants, in columns through the forest. Some rode on the backs of beasts that seemed like deer but were larger and stronger. As the insect-men moved through the forest, they mercilessly slaughtered, raped and tortured the Dwon they found.

  But Lirak flew higher, and from a great height he followed the river down to the Dragon Sea, where many such floating huts moved. And in the huts more of the insect-men waited for their own chance to pillage and murder. But on he flew, across the great water a tremendous distance to new lands. And in those lands great armies of insect-men fought each other and burned each other’s homes. And with the insect men were other men who didn’t have the insect skin, but wore gray robes, and from those men great destruction burst forth. Fires and death rose up around them like whirlwinds and they were safe from all but each other. And when they fought each other the destruction was complete, nothing remained behind.

  Still he flew, until a great darkness lay across the land, and even his dream eyes could not pierce it. And from that darkness he felt a presence of evil so great that it choked him and made his wings falter. Brave, or foolish, the cold, dead voice suddenly intruded into his head. Lirak’s heart thudded in his chest. Or have you changed your mind? Something kept Lirak from answering. Instead he deliberately ignored the voice and thought back to the spirit dream of Kodul’s death. He remembered the searching presence and realized the voice was searching now, aware of Lirak, but unsure of his exact location. He returned his focus to the lands below, deliberately avoiding any contact with the voice. Far below, up against the edge of a wall of complete darkness, Lirak saw a light. He flew that way, each successive flap of his wings requiring more and more effort, as if he were descending into some sort of viscous fluid. From the light he also felt a sense of terror and despair that made his mind recoil. Fighting against the fear and the dreadful pressure of the air around him, Lirak got close enough to see that there was a huge bowl carved into the land below. Inside the bowl were uncountable people, all naked, all cowering, men, women and children. More people were filing into the bowl through large arched doorways, mercilessly whipped by armored figures whose laughs cut through the despairing cries of the naked horde.

  Watch and learn the voice was back in his head. Something seemed to have taken control of Lirak’s will, and he found himself circling above the great bowl of naked humanity. Now you too will be mine, the voice swelled with a sense of triumph. Lirak cried out in growing terror, struggling uselessly to regain control of his eagle form. But his attempts were futile, and he realized he had lost all control of his will, he could do nothing except what the cold, dead voice commanded.

  Unable to look away Lirak watched as the last naked prisoners were herded into the vast bowl. Lirak’s mind had no words for the staggering number of individuals in the seething sea of desperate humanity. Their fear and terror welled up and enveloped Lirak. Help us! Don’t let them do this! Then the bowl began to radiate with heat. The people within began to scramble upward, crawling over each other as the heat became unbearable.

  “Stop! Stop!” Lirak cried into the darkness. “What are you doing?” But there was no answer from the cold dead voice. Instead the terror from the bowl increased tenfold and slammed into Lirak like a physical blow. And the heat spread, forcing the naked forms higher until there was no place higher to go. Then they started climbing atop each other. The terror radiating from the bowl increased to the point that Lirak no longer had any ability to think at all. Save us! The voices all seemed to cry as one. Finally a great blast of heat rose from the floor of the bowl and in a final flash of ultimate horror, terror and hopelessness, the naked bodies burned into blackness, then crumbled into dust. Where there had been countless people just moments before, now there was nothing.

  Now we wait, the cold, dead voice was back. Lirak heard a sobbing sound and it took him some time to realize it came from his own mind. He vaguely realized that his eagle form had stopped flapping and was falling, falling into that great pit of death and horror. He had never felt such despair, such hopelessness, such pain. His will was utterly spent and he welcomed the idea of falling into that bowl and vanishing into the dust forever. His entire world was dark, empty and hopeless.

  Then a spark appeared in the darkness, red, but not like fire. It grew into an image of Mayrie as she had been when they first kissed. Come back to me, Lirak heard her say. And his will awakened, slowly at first, but then Lirak felt a surge of anger that drove away whatever had held him. Well, this is interesting, the dead voice said. Lirak ignored it, and concentrated on regaining control of his wings. He could feel himself struggling against the will of the cold, dead voice. But he was winning. He pulled out of the fall and flew back to the west, gaining strength with every stroke.

  Well done, little lifeling the voice said. You are stronger than your father. And the shock of that jolted Lirak out of his dream state.

  Lirak woke up. He felt he had slept much longer than he had intended. At first he didn’t remember where he was. The room was dark. The window in the room showed a gray gloom outside, and he heard the unmistakable sound of a summer thunderstorm. His head was clear, and he had a difficult time believing that the events of the previous day had actually occurred. His dream confused him, as his dreams frequently did. Was Luh-Yi really burning? He could not conceive of anything that could cause such destruction. Did he really witness the slaughter of uncountable people? Was the dream a result of his fever and exhaustion?

  He sat up in the cot and felt his shoulder where the cat had bitten him. It felt warm, but not hot or cold. He cautiously extended his arm and was pleased to discover that the deep pain was now a sharp twinge and some of his strength had returned. Whatever Dedrik had given him had worked wonders. He reached up and felt his scalp, and there too he felt that the skin had already begun to knit back together, although he could also feel the threads pulling his skin tight. His legs felt much better, but they still ached in a few places from the beating they had received from the rocks, and his right thigh felt tight and sore where the claws had raked it; more importantly though, a savory smell filled the room, making his mouth water.

  Swiveling his feet over the edge of the bed, he felt an odd sense of unnaturalness to his situation. He was in a place where he should be warily sleeping under a tree or in a cave, not lying comfortably in a soft bed, listening to a summer thundershower drumming on the roof while he was snug and warm inside. It felt absurd, especially knowing that he had to go back out into that storm and spend several more days hiking and canoeing back to his own village. He shook his head and pushed open the door to the main room of the hut.

  Dedrik was there at the table, dressed the same as the day before. He had a steaming mug in front of him, and another in front of an empty chair. There was also an empty plate in front of him, but a plate with strange square objects in front of the empty chair. Lirak’s hunger grew as the smells of food and drink intoxicated him.

  “Good morning. Well, actually its closer to good afternoon, but you needed the rest. How are you feeling? I’ve made you some tea and fixed you a breakfast of seedcakes and honey! I made them myself.” Dedrik seemed pleased with himself.

  “Thank you, but I need to get back home,” Lirak said, but his growling stomach disagreed with this words.

  “Of course you do, but not before I tell you of the prophecy and you get your belly full,” Dedrik said. “Now sit down. I hope you like the tea and se
edcakes; I’ve never found a better way to start the day.”

  Lirak pulled the chair out and sat down in front of the mug and the plate. The mug certainly smelled wonderful, a rich aroma of herbs wafting from it, mixing with a sweet smell from the seedcakes.

  “I make them with honey,” Dedrik said. “Have a bite.”

  Lirak was ravenously hungry. He took hold of the handle of the mug and brought it to his face where he took a long breath, drinking in the aroma of the tea. Then he took a sip and was gratified to discover that it was a pleasant tasting tea, not bitter or sweet, but wholesome and satisfying. He took a deep drink. The seedcakes on his plate looked like nothing he’d ever seen before. They were square, and a golden tan color, with a glaze of honey on top. He gingerly picked one up and nibbled on a corner. The taste was sweet, but earthier than he expected. It was firm and crisp on the outside, but soft and flaky on the inside. There was a distinct taste of nuts. He ate it in four bites. Then he ate the second one, washing it down with the tea.

  “Still hungry? I have a few more cooking in the oven if you want more,” Dedrik said.

  “Those were wonderful” Lirak said. “I would love to have another one and some more tea too, if that is possible.”

  “Great!” Dedrik boomed. “More tea and cakes coming right up!” Dedrik left the room for a moment and reappeared with an odd-looking jug that steamed as he walked. He brought the jug over and poured more tea into Lirak’s mug.

  “Just a few more moments until the seedcakes are done,” Dedrik said. “In the meantime we can get a bit better acquainted. How did you sleep?”

  “I slept well,” Lirak said, not mentioning his troubling dream. “I’m amazed by how well your healing has repaired my shoulder and head.”

  “Mostly you should thank your own thick skull and your youthful vigor,” Dedrik said. “But I’m pleased that I did no harm. But I want to hear your story, especially how you killed that cat.”

  “It tracked me all day long,” Lirak said, “all the way across the river and through the waterfall…” Dedrik’s eyes suddenly narrowed.

  “Did you say ‘through the waterfall’?” Dedrik asked.

  Lirak paused, wondering if there was some reason he should recall those words, but he was certain that Dedrik’s shrewdness was beyond his ability to deceive. “Yes, that’s where she died,” he finally said.

  Dedrik absently tapped the table with one finger and Lirak thought he was about to say something about the area behind the waterfall. Then suddenly Dedrik said “Oops! Cakes in the oven! Be right back.” With that he disappeared for a moment before returning holding a stone slab with four steaming cakes on it. Using a wooden stick with a large flat end, he slid three cakes onto Lirak’s plate, and one onto his own. Then, placing the slab on the table, he sat down.

  “So, you looked around behind the waterfall, did you?” he finally said.

  “Yes, I saw the…” Lirak hesitated a moment “… writing on the wall.”

  “As I recall, the Dwon don’t care much for writing,” Dedrik said, through a mouthful of seedcake.

  “Yes, but I am curious too. What are they? Who put them there?” Lirak asked, biting into another hot, delicious cake.

  Dedrik paused long enough to finish his seedcake and take a long drink of tea. “Those are truly ancient,” he finally said. “They are said to reveal a part of the prophecy, but there are few left who could read that language to be sure. Great evil was done there at one time. The altar was used for sacrifice, and the writing describes the ritual,” he paused… “But that was long, long ago, more than an age ago at least, back when this was not a secluded wilderness, but was part of a great kingdom. Now the kingdom is long forgotten to all but a very few, though the mountains still are called ‘Haguille’.”

  “The cat lies on the stone table,” Lirak said.

  “Hmmm… that’s ironic enough,” Dedrik said, “You should finish your cakes. Then we can get down to business.”

  “Dedrik, there is one thing I would ask you,” Lirak said as he picked up the last seedcake from his plate.

  “Yes?” Dedrik prompted.

  “You say that you tell the firestone seekers this ‘prophecy.’ My father once sought the firestones, did you tell him?”

  Dedrik sat back with a smile. “Now let’s see, your father… Well, I think we know I’ve never seen a Dwon who looks like you before, so your father must not favor you.”

  “No, he does not,” Lirak admitted.

  “I do remember your father. He was named ‘Vorik,’ if I am not mistaken, and he is the only Dwon in living memory who has gathered the firestones twice.”

  “Did you tell him the prophecy too?” Lirak asked.

  “I did the first time, as I do with all who come into this valley. Vorik was an impatient young man, and angry. He was also very brave. I know he was sent over the Dragon Sea and returned with a wife, your mother I am sure. But as I said, he is the first to have ever come back. He said he was being sent back over the Dragon Sea again.”

  “The Dragon Sea?” Lirak asked. “You say my father has gone back over the Dragon Sea? Why? Who sent him?”

  “Well, that’s what he told me he was going to do,” Dedrik said. “Lirak, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you any more, he told me that Kathoias had told him to return. That’s all I know.”

  With that the two slowly finished the final seedcakes and tea while listening to the drumming of the rain on the roof and the distant sound of thunder echoing off the mountains.

  Prophecy

  Faydah is the weaver of fate, the wisest of the Seven. In Faydah’s prophecies the fate of the universe is revealed. It is the way of Faydah to speak in riddles. To solve Fayda’s riddle is to determine the defeater of death.

  – The Prophecies

  After the seedcakes were finished, Dedrik cleared off the table. Lirak was feeling rather sated and comfortable, and was surprised to realize that he didn’t feel guilty about it. There was something about being in this hut with Dedrik after eating such a wonderful breakfast while a storm raged outside that made him want to sit back and relax and enjoy a good story. And he could tell that Dedrik was working on telling an epic. Finally Dedrik finished with the cleanup and returned to the table.

  “Let’s go to the other room and get a bit more comfortable.” He filled up both of their mugs with tea and led Lirak through another door into a small room with padded chairs. Dedrik took one and indicated to Lirak to sit in the other. There was a small fireplace in this room too, and Dedrik had a fire going. Reaching into a pocket of his shirt, Dedrik pulled out a small object into which he stuffed some moist, pungent, crushed leaves. Reaching into the fireplace, he pulled out a flaming twig and to Lirak’s astonishment, sucked the flame into the object.

  “Oh, you’ve never seen a pipe before,” Dedrik said. “Nothing to be alarmed about, an old habit I picked up.” With that he tossed the twig back into the fireplace and took a long draw on the pipe, and then blew out smoke, which hovered above him like a cloud over a mountain. Besides the fire, the only other light in the room came from a small glass oil lantern on the wall and the gloomy gray light from a small window. Then he leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.

  “I don’t personally put much stock in destiny,” he began. “But then again, I don’t suppose destiny puts much stock in me either.” He took another deep draw on the pipe. “In every age there is the hope that it is the last age.” He paused while thunder echoed through the house and took another draw on the pipe. The smell of the pipe was surprisingly pleasant to Lirak. He thought it also made Dedrik look wise.

  “The Dwon tell the story of the world as the creation of seven great Gods, which they call ‘The Seven’. They even name these seven, and I’m sure you can tell me their names.”

  At this Lirak looked up and said “Only six are named. One is unNamed.”

  Dedrik nodded and continued. “One of those named is called ‘Faydah.’ She is also called the ‘Weaver of
Fate.’ She is said to be able to control the destiny of men, and even of the universe itself. Have your elders told you the prophecy of Faydah?”

  “No,” Lirak said, “There are rumors of Faydah’s prophecy, or of some prophecy, but the elders do not speak of it.”

  “Well, that’s not surprising” Dedrik murmured. “Dwon elders tend to keep their secrets closely held. But sometimes they give some hints to the firestone gatherers.”

  “I have no idea,” Lirak said. “Perhaps Kathoias has asked them not to tell.”

  Dedrik smiled at that. “Well, I don’t really buy into all this prattle about fate anyway,” Dedrik said. “To me it’s about fulfilling a promise.”

  With that Dedrik continued. “According to the prophecy, in every age there will be a Testing Time. And in that time one will rise above all others and challenge the very Gods themselves. The time of Testing will be a time of great evil; the world will be riven with war and treachery. That which you call the ‘unNamed One’ will walk the earth and bring horrors unimaginable upon all who live, both mortal and immortal. One man will rise up from the most humble of beginnings. This one will become ruler of many nations in the battle against the unNamed one. And this one will choose the destiny of the world. If he chooses rightly, then the purpose of all will be revealed and the One will replace the Seven and all of creation itself will be saved. If he chooses wrong, then all will come to nothing, and another age will pass and a new age will begin the cycle anew. This cycle will continue until the One is revealed, or until the unNamed one has his final victory.”

  Lirak waited for more, but Dedrik had stopped and was puffing on his pipe. “Is that all?” He asked.

  “No, there is more.” But Dedrik still said nothing more at the moment, instead focusing his efforts on creating rings of flowing smoke which meandered through the room.