Warrior: The War Chronicles I

by Sean Golden

  “That was a damn big cat” he said as Lirak set down his load. “It looks like you got your knife into it twice and an arrow into it too. Want to tell me about it?” Jerok nodded his head toward Thorn, who had also come inside and was curled up beside Lirak, “and that too?”

  “It’s a long story,” Lirak said.

  “Not many men could say they fought and killed even one of our forest panthers, this was easily twice as big as one of them. I’ve never seen or heard of a cat this size.”

  “There are other strange beasts over the Gap” Lirak said. “You would like the valley of the Fire River Jerok. It is wild and beautiful. There is a waterfall there that shines like the sun, and makes rainbows with its magic.”

  Lirak settled back against the wall of the cave. Thorn nuzzled up against him as he ran his fingers along the cub’s neck and shoulders. His head felt light, and he felt like talking. He told Jerok the story of his travels, leaving nothing out that he could remember except for his dreams.

  “Let me see your shoulder,” Jerok said when Lirak finally finished.

  Lirak removed his shirt and moved over to the fire where Jerok was sitting. Jerok used a small burning branch for a torch and cautiously prodded the hard scabs in the front and back of Lirak’s shoulder with a finger.

  “Those are pretty deep, you’re going to have scars to remind you.” Jerok then looked at his head. “So this stranger up in the mountains gave you some sort of healing drink, sewed up your head and fed you tea and seedcakes?” He whistled a low whistle. “It sounds like one of Mother’s stories. Maybe it’s good for you that the elders can’t hear it, or see that pet you brought back.”

  “Thorn isn’t a pet. He’s free to come or go, I like his company, he seems to like mine.”

  “Fine, whatever you want to call it, it’s not going to be a cub forever. It’s already bigger than a panther. It’s a male, so it’s likely to get a lot bigger than the female that attacked you. You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t end up eating you.”

  “But I want to know more about this Dedrik person.” Jerok pursed his lips in thought. “His ‘prophecy’ seems to imply that you, or someone close to you, are going to become some sort of hero or savior. Look around you Lirak; does it seem likely that any one of us will even survive the winter?”

  Lirak shrugged. “I haven’t given much thought to the prophecy thing, really.” He shivered as he thought of the dream and the floating huts, but said nothing. “Prophecies are for elders to think about.”

  “I think there’s something funny about that Dedrik,” Jerok said. “And besides, in case you haven’t figured out, we are the elders of the village now. And we’re going to be thinking about a lot of things. We have to.”

  With that each lost themselves in their own thoughts and memories and soon all three, and Thorn, were sleeping deeply.

  The next days were difficult days for Mayrie. Lirak and Jerok had never been taught the ways of healing, and only knew the most basic of helpful plants. Mayrie had been badly hurt and she soon developed a fever that Lirak was sure would burn her alive. She became delirious at times, and Lirak or Jerok had to hold her to keep her from running into the forest, or hurting herself on the rocks in the cave. When possible Lirak and Jerok took turns gathering water, berries and small game to eat and drink. Thorn took care of himself and seemed to have no trouble finding game in the forest. He gained weight and Jerok swore he had grown half a palm’s worth in just a few days.

  Jerok and Lirak also took turns working the pelt and curing it as well as they could. Finally it was adequately cured. Lirak sewed up the knife and arrow holes as carefully as he could. When it was cured Lirak discovered that the pelt was as big as Jerok was. Jerok could put the mask of the pelt on his head like a hood, sling the front legs over his shoulders and the hind legs would dangle to the floor. Lirak put it on Mayrie’s bed as an extra layer of cushion and softness, and this greatly reduced the scratches she got from thrashing around in her delirium. But within a few days Mayrie was too weak to do more than moan and weakly move her arms and legs. Each day Lirak or Jerok searched the area for more survivors from the village, but if any had survived, they were hidden well.

  “Stay,” Lirak said, holding his hand outstretched in front of Thorn’s grinning, tongue-lolling face. Lirak took a step backwards while keeping his hand outstretched. Thorn looked left, then right and then bounded to his feet and bull-rushed Lirak playfully, knocking Lirak backwards.

  “No!” Lirak couldn’t help but laugh at Thorn’s enthusiastic horseplay. “Thorn! You’re supposed to stay!”

  “You can’t turn a cat into a dog,” Jerok said from behind him.

  Lirak sighed… Thorn’s eyes flashed with a disconcerting intelligence and Lirak had the notion that Thorn was deliberately playing with him. “No, I suppose you can’t.”

  “Besides, you claim he’s not a pet anyway, so why are you trying to make him one?”

  Lirak stood as a cool breeze rattled through the forest canopy and lifted his hair from his neck. Thorn took one final look at Lirak and vanished into the forest.

  “I’m going to check out those tracks by the creek again,” Jerok said. “They don’t look like demon tracks. Those demons seem to be staying downriver by their floating hut anyway, or moving south.” Jerok had scouted east to see what he could find the day before. His description of their actions confused Lirak, and he intended to have a look himself, but found it hard to leave Mayrie for that long.

  “I’ll be back by dusk,” Jerok said, settling his bow over his shoulder and his water skin on his belt.

  Lirak spent the better part of the afternoon gathering nuts and berries, and caught three ground birds in his snares. He checked on Mayrie regularly but she showed no sign of improvement. He bathed her and did his best to keep her clean and dry. He was barely able to get her to drink some badly needed water. In spite of her fever and thrashing, her cuts and bruises were slowly healing and she was looking more and more like the Mayrie that Lirak remembered. Lirak had a hollow feeling in his stomach that Mayrie might never wake up again.

  After cleaning the birds, cracking the nuts and washing the berries, Lirak found himself sitting in the camp with the bag of firestones in front of him. Before his death Kodul had told Lirak that the firestones were the source of the Dwon magic. Magic! Lirak spat. Their magic had been no help against the demons who had slaughtered Luh-Yi. But he remembered that surge of excitement and the strange colors he had felt and seen when he first touched one in the huge crack of stone where he had gathered them.

  He gingerly reached forth and touched one of the red tendrils in the nearest stone. The feeling of energy was like a faint echo of what he had felt in the crack. At first he saw no swirling colors, but after a while he could make them out, again, like a pale shadow of what he had seen in the crack. Again, he felt his chest tighten and a sense of coldness spreading inside his body.

  The sun was setting behind the distant mountains by the time Lirak put the stones back in the corner. Thorn had returned at some point and was sleeping beside the burned out fire. Lirak bent to restart the fire when he heard footsteps outside. More than one person was outside the cave.

  “Lirak!” Jerok sounded excited. “Come on out!”

  Lirak took a final look at Mayrie’s motionless form, noting the rapid and shallow breathing, and pushed through the branches which hid the small opening.

  Jerok stood outside, and with him were Gawn, Patrik and Hetyl, the village healer.

  “Lirak!” Patrik rushed forward, grabbing him by the shoulders, a broad grin on his face. “I didn’t believe it!” he said. “But here you are!” Patrik looked closely at Lirak’s forehead and pointed at the twin white scars descending from Lirak’s hairline. “Well, it looks like you’ve got a story of your own to tell.”

  Gawn was strangely subdued, though he too embraced Lirak and welcomed him back.

  “Hetyl,” Lirak said. “Can you help Mayrie? She’s been badly hurt.”
>
  “Yes, yes, always it’s ‘can you help’ but that’s what I do,” Hetyl said, pushing abruptly past Lirak and flailing his arms at the branches. “Where is door? Can’t find a decent place to camp?”

  Lirak pulled the branches aside so that Hetyl could enter the small space beyond.

  “Where did you find them?” he asked Jerok.

  “There’s a small group of villagers living back in the forest who escaped the demons,” Jerok answered. But his smile had vanished and his eyes had a hooded look.

  “That’s good to hear,” Lirak said. “We can gather up our stuff and…”

  “Wait,” Gawn interrupted. Patrik looked down. “It’s not that easy.”

  “What do you mean?” Lirak asked, confused.

  “You won’t be welcome,” Gawn said.

  Lirak looked from Jerok to Gawn to Patrik, but none would meet his eyes.

  “That’s… what…” Lirak’s confusion stole his voice.

  “They blame you,” Jerok said finally.

  Lirak felt a cold hand squeeze his heart, and he found it hard to breathe. Patrik finally looked at him and nodded.

  “They blame me for the destruction of the village?” Lirak finally managed to say.

  “Yes,” Gawn said. “Sampt has been telling them all that you brought the demons.”

  “But that’s crazy,” Lirak said. Even in the confusion though, his mind found a ray of hope. “Is Mother, Soonya, there?”

  Gawn looked down, and Jerok looked stricken.

  “Sampt says she went with the demons,” Patrik finally said.

  Lirak’s mind was swimming. The world seemed to have gone completely mad. “She went with them?”

  “Sampt says she spoke to them in their demon tongue, and then she went to the east with a group of them.” Patrik paused for a moment. “As soon as she was gone, they started their butchery.”

  “But how can anyone believe that?” Lirak asked. “Everyone knows Sampt hates me and Soonya. He must be lying!”

  “Others claim to have seen it too Lirak,” Gawn said. “And they won’t let you live with them. Some are even…” he paused, as if he couldn’t go on.

  “What?” Lirak asked, his skin becoming clammy and his throat tightening from the insanity of it all.

  “Sampt says you should be killed if you are found,” Patrik said.

  Hetyl saved Mayrie’s life. He brewed a drink from herbs and moss and had Lirak hold Mayrie’s mouth open as he poured it down her throat. He did so three times each day for three days. He tended her tirelessly and frequently sent Lirak or Patrik on errands to find herbs or berries he needed.

  Gawn and Jerok had gone back to the remaining villagers the day before to try to change Sampt’s mind, but Patrik and Hetyl remained with Lirak. Hetyl had gone to gather some needed healing herbs neither Lirak nor Patrik had been able to find. Lirak and Patrik were in the small cave talking about Lirak’s meeting with Dedrik when Mayrie finally woke up.

  “Lirak?” her voice was so faint that Lirak and Patrik almost didn’t hear her. When they did, Lirak rushed to her side.

  “Mayrie, are you OK?” Lirak marveled at the change in Mayrie in the days under Hetyl’s care. Her skin had seemed almost translucent and pale for days, but now her color had returned and she was breathing normally. Lirak touched her cheek and was happy to find it was no longer burning hot to the touch.

  “I had the most awful dream,” Mayrie said. “If your dreams are anything like that dream, I can sort of understand you.”

  Lirak felt a hot tear well up and roll down his cheek.

  “Where are we?” Mayrie asked. “What time is it?” Mayrie looked around “It’s mid-day! I have work to do.” She tried to sit up, but the effort left her panting and exhausted.

  “Mayrie, lie still,” Lirak said, feeling like his heart was breaking all over again. “Hetyl will be back soon.”

  “OK, I’m really tired,” Mayrie said. “What’s going on?”

  “You’ve been hurt badly and have been sick for many days,” Patrik said.

  Mayrie looked first at Patrik, then at Lirak. Lirak felt the force of the piercing gaze emanating from her hazel eyes. As he watched Mayrie’s face seemed to turn to stone, and her smile vanished as her hands found the tight bandages still supporting her healing ribs. A look of utter horror flashed across her face.

  “It wasn’t a dream,” she said as the tears began to flow. Her body convulsed with deep wracking sobs and wails. Lirak did his best to comfort her and Patrik patted Lirak on the shoulder and went outside.

  Mayrie’s face carried a reminder of her ordeal. Her left cheek had a round dimple where she had been bitten. Her hair was growing back in where it had been ripped out. Her rib was knitting and her cuts had long since healed. But Lirak knew the scars unseen were worse than the visible ones.

  Lirak stood in the sun the day after Mayrie awakened and looked at the others. Thorn sat beside him, looking bored. Jerok stood looking at Lirak, his arms crossed, waiting. Mayrie stood to one side and looked down, her red hair glowing in the sun. She had not spoken much since waking, but her strength was returning. Hetyl sat on the grass, rummaging through his many pouches, mumbling to himself. Patrik sat with his knees in front of him, watching Lirak. Baxi, the youngest son of Sampt, stood directly in front of Lirak, his face a blank mask above his large and muscular frame, his hands at his sides. He had both a knife and an axe on his belt.

  “My father has forbidden you from returning,” Baxi said.

  “Your father is no elder,” Lirak replied coldly.

  “The elders are dead,” Baxi said. “My father is now the elder.”

  “No,” Patrik said, “Chutan is still alive and he is the true elder.”

  “Chutan is nothing,” Baxi spat. “Nobody listens to Chutan now.”

  “Sampt was cast out from the elders,” Lirak said. “I was there.”

  “That was before,” Baxi said. “My father doesn’t know I’m here. He would disown me. I came because Jerok asked me to.”

  “Do you believe I brought the demons on Luh-Yi?” Lirak asked.

  “No Lirak, I don’t. I think my father is wrong, but he is my father. And most of the villagers follow him, not Chutan.”

  “What will happen when I return?”

  Baxi looked at Lirak for several moments, but Lirak’s gray eyes bored back until Baxi finally dropped his.

  “I think that would be very unwise,” he said.

  “Well, wise or not, I have no choice.” Lirak scratched Thorn between the ears and Baxi licked his lips nervously as he watched the big cat. “I will not be cast out from my people, especially not by Sampt.”

  “Don’t expect the villagers to help you Lirak,” Baxi warned. “My father is quite persuasive when he wants to be. You will have no friends there.”

  “Yes he will,” Patrik said. “He will have me.”

  “And me,” Mayrie quickly added.

  Gawn grabbed Patrik with one arm and Jerok with another. “You have more friends than Sampt knows, Lirak,” he said.

  “Well, I suppose it’s time to find out,” Lirak sighed. “It’s time we left this camp and joined the other villagers anyway. But first it seems we have to deal with Sampt.”

  Baxi stepped forward, his powerful form looming over Lirak. “If you come, you will not come to talk. You will come to fight.”

  “Are you saying that I will have to fight you?” Lirak asked.

  “If my father commands it, then you will,” Baxi said.

  “So be it,” Lirak said.

  “So be it,” Baxi replied. “Though I’ll take no pleasure in it, but expect no mercy.”

  “Mercy does not seem to be plentiful in my future,” Lirak replied. “Now go, and either warn your father or not, as you please.”

  Baxi nodded, then surprisingly reached forward and clasped Lirak’s arm forearm to forearm. “Good luck Lirak,” he said and then turned to leave.

  Lirak stood for long moments after Baxi disapp
eared. Finally he turned to the others.

  “Well, let’s get this over with. We’ve got an oath to fulfill.”

  Dwon Against Dwon

  The Seven were once as one. As brother depends on brother and sister depends on sister, so much more is the bond of god with god. Thus it is that the treachery of the unNamed one is the most evil of all acts. Be warned of sibling turned against sibling.

  – The Prophecies

  They moved slowly through the forest. Mayrie was still weak and the rest were burdened with belongings. Lirak carried the heavy sack of firestones. They rested frequently, but even so Mayrie’s breathing was heavy and she leaned frequently on Lirak. But she made no complaint.

  “We’re getting close,” Jerok said as he and Gawn waited for Mayrie and Lirak to catch up.”

  “I’d like to talk to Chutan before we enter the village,” Lirak said.

  “I’ll go ahead and bring him back,” Patrik offered.

  Lirak nodded and Patrik dropped his load and jogged off ahead.

  “What will Chutan do?” Jerok asked.

  “I don’t know, but Chutan is wise, so I hope he has some ideas,” Lirak replied as Mayrie sat on a fallen log, her face flushed and showing a sheen of sweat.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Jerok said.

  “Jerok, I don’t know either, but I know that I can’t live my life as an outcast. Sampt will have to understand.”

  “Sampt will never understand.” Mayrie’s voice was breathless and labored, but was still firm. “Sampt knows that the only hold he has on the villagers is their fear of you, Lirak.”

  “There are more important things for the villagers to fear,” Lirak said.

  The group sat in silence after that. Finally they heard movement ahead and Patrik emerged from the forest with Chutan.

  Chutan looked old and tired. On seeing Lirak he smiled, but it was a sad and tremulous smile.

  “It is true, you have returned,” Chutan said.