Warrior: The War Chronicles I

by Sean Golden

  “I have the firestones,” Lirak said.

  “I had no doubt of that,” Chutan said.

  “But we have a bigger problem right now, and I need your wisdom,” Lirak leaned toward Chutan. “We have to tell the remaining villagers the truth.”

  “What truth is that?” Chutan said, his face tightening. “What Sampt says about Soonya is true. I saw it myself.”

  Lirak felt all the wind go out of him, and his knees felt weak and wobbly. “But that’s not possible,” he said. He balled his hands into fists and gritted his teeth, willing away a strange roaring sound in his ears. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Chutan nodded. “When the floating huts on the river were seen, Soonya came to the elders’ hut. She told us that we had to run away and hide. But we told her to calm her fears. She argued with us, but we were not swayed.” Chutan seemed to shrink a little as he said this. “Then the first of the demons entered the village green. They shouted in a strange tongue, but Soonya seemed to understand them. She ran to them shouting in the same tongue, and pointed back to the village. Then she fell to her knees and spoke more softly in that same tongue. A group of them came and took her arms and led her into the forest to the east. It was soon after she disappeared that the butchery began.”

  Lirak desperately tried to process what Chutan was telling him. His mother spoke to the demons. His mother was taken by them.

  “She’s not one of them,” Lirak said. “That I know.”

  “Sampt believes otherwise, and has convinced many others. You must go Lirak, I fear he means to kill you,” Chutan said.

  “Perhaps he does,” Lirak said.

  “This was a bad idea,” Jerok said.

  Lirak looked at Jerok. “I ask none of you to come with me.”

  “Well, we’re coming anyway,” Patrik said.

  Lirak held each in his gaze for a long moment, then turned and strode toward the villagers’ camp.

  The camp was a disorganized assortment of piles laid about in a small clearing. There was no challenge as Lirak walked into the clearing. About twenty villagers milled around the clearing surrounding a fire where strips of meat were cooking. Lirak’s mouth watered at the savory smell. Many villagers lay on bedding on the ground, but there were a few small structures made by leaning tree limbs against each other and weaving branches to keep out the wind. Lirak saw no children. Some villagers had makeshift splints holding broken bones together, and some still wore bloody bandages. They may have escaped, but many of them had paid a heavy price for their survival.

  “Lirak!” Baxi’s voice boomed forth and the villagers came to a sudden stop as they all turned to stare at Lirak and the group who had appeared among them. Lirak heard hushed whispering from several places, and many held the ward of Rysdun on their foreheads.

  “Sampt!” Lirak shouted back. “I am back from the mountains! I have completed my task!”

  An angry murmur seemed to swell through the villagers, and they moved together as if seeking comfort from each other’s touch.

  “Demon bringer!” a voice called out. “Murderer!”

  “I am no murderer,” Lirak said loudly, but as calmly as he could. His heart raced and he could feel his body reacting to the danger around him.

  The largest lean-to shook abruptly, and a silence settled over the clearing as Sampt emerged. His left arm was wrapped in oily bandages and Lirak could see that it pained him greatly. He limped when he placed his right foot down.

  “So, you have come to see what you’ve done.” Sampt hissed. “Do you like what you see?” The angry murmuring again rose from the crowd.

  “I am no demon,” Lirak replied.

  “I say that you are.” Sampt said.

  “I say that he is not,” Chutan’s voice came from behind Lirak. On his left he saw Patrik step up beside him, his bow held easily in his left hand, and on his right Jerok stood.

  “Leave him!” Sampt shouted. “Let him pay for his sins alone.”

  “He has committed no sins,” Mayrie said.

  “I have returned with the firestones,” Lirak said. “I have completed my Ko’Teraka.” He paused and looked around the clearing. “I am as much a Dwon as any of you.”

  “Liar!” Sampt said. “How dare you come back here?” He raised his left arm and yanked free the bandage, revealing a blackened mass of flesh with useless fingers curled into a rigid claw. “See what you have done? Look around you!”

  “I see living Dwon here, where in the village I found only the dead,” Lirak coldly replied. “Who tended to those dead? Who sent them to Kathoias? Did you Sampt?”

  This quieted the villagers. Lirak noticed a few villagers slipping behind trees. Sampt seemed surprised by Lirak’s question and for a moment he looked around the clearing licking his lips.

  “I have sworn an oath to Faydah to avenge the dead.” A gasp of surprise came from the villagers. “I don’t seek your leave to live among you. I seek those of you who are willing to fight the demons with me!”

  The murmuring of the villagers changed in tone. Lirak sensed that some of them were unsure now.

  “Enough!” roared Sampt. “Baxi! Kill this demon-spawn!”

  Jerok and Patrik raised their bows. But Lirak reached to each side and pushed them down.

  “No,” he said. “This is not your fight.”

  “You can’t fight him!” Jerok said.

  “I said I would if I had to,” Lirak replied as he took Thorn’s head and looked into his eyes. “Stay, Thorn.” He hoped the big cat would listen.

  Baxi stepped forth, pulling his axe with his right hand, and his stone knife with his left. His face was set in an unreadable mask as he stepped forward. Lirak too stepped forward, but after drawing his knife, he deliberately let it fall to the ground.

  “Pick it up!” Baxi said.

  “No,” Lirak replied, speaking more to the villagers than to Baxi. “I do not kill Dwon.”

  Baxi moved forward in a crouch. Lirak moved with him, circling to his left, waiting for Baxi to make his move. His mind flowed into the familiar feeling of time slowing down. Every sense was magnified as he watched the muscles in Baxi’s legs and arms flex as he moved.

  Baxi suddenly charged forward, bringing his axe in a sweeping blow toward Lirak’s head while his knife cut forward in a low arc toward Lirak’s gut. Lirak twisted away from the knife while reaching up to grab Baxi’s right wrist, and then he fell backwards, using Baxi’s momentum to pull him off balance. He rolled to his left as Baxi’s knife cut through the air above his hip, and kicked out at Baxi’s knee as the larger man lost his balance. Baxi fell heavily to the ground as Lirak spun on his left hand and pushed himself upright.

  “You are not a murderer Baxi,” Lirak said as Baxi rolled onto his side, and began to push himself up. A hint of doubt crossed Baxi’s face.

  “Kill him!” shouted Sampt. Baxi gritted his teeth and nodded.

  Again Baxi advanced on Lirak, but this time he did not rush forward. Instead he forced Lirak back step by step with short swings of his weapons. Lirak could find no opening to rush Baxi, and knew that would be a mistake against the much larger man. He had to force Baxi to make a mistake.

  The two circled around the clearing, Baxi inching forward while Lirak dodged aside, but Baxi was slowly forcing Lirak closer and closer to the trees and lean-tos where he could not dodge so easily. Baxi thrust with his knife and swung his axe repeatedly at Lirak, while Lirak dodged away without striking back. Baxi was large and strong, but Lirak was much quicker and few of Baxi’s attempts even came close to drawing blood. The villagers began to murmur angrily as the two circled around the clearing.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Lirak said. In reply Baxi swung his axe. Lirak could tell that Baxi was getting winded. His axe swings and knife thrusts were noticeably slower, and he was breathing heavily. Lirak felt relaxed and fresh. He noted how Baxi’s feet shifted before swinging his axe, and how they shifted differently when he thrust with his knife.


  “Finish it!” Sampt howled. Baxi seemed to find fresh energy and unleashed a barrage of swings at Lirak, pushing Lirak hard for a moment, and a small cheer went up from the villagers when Baxi’s knife managed to score a bloody line across Lirak’s left thigh.

  But Lirak weathered the attack, and the effort left Baxi standing with his arms hanging and his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

  “Come on Baxi,” Lirak said. “You can finish this now by telling Sampt that you do not fight Dwon.”

  “I…” Baxi took a deep breath, “…can’t, Lirak,” he scowled and waved his axe weakly at Sampt. “He’s my father.”

  “He’s a madman,” Lirak replied. “He’s put Dwon against Dwon when we need each other more than ever.”

  Baxi suddenly raised his blades and rushed forward. Lirak had a sudden idea and he backpedaled, but then fell suddenly backwards. Baxi’s eyes lit up and he jumped forward, waving his axe and knife as he sensed a chance to end this.

  But Lirak had not tripped, and when Baxi jumped forward, with both blades raised, Lirak rolled suddenly forward and smashed his shoulder into Baxi’s stomach, lifting him off his feet and dropping him to the ground behind him. Turning quickly Lirak saw Baxi’s knife on the ground where Baxi had dropped it, and he deftly picked it up and tossed it to Patrik, who caught it cleanly.

  Baxi lay motionless for a moment while Sampt screamed in incoherent rage. Then he rolled over and sat up, a gash on his forehead where he had fallen on his axe. He looked around for a moment but then pushed himself up and stood with his hands on his knees breathing heavily. He swiveled his bloody face up and Lirak was amazed to see that he was smiling. Then, to everyone’s surprise he began laughing. He dropped his axe and stepped forward with his hand outstretched.

  “I won’t fight you Lirak,” he said. “You win. You have convinced me.”

  He turned to his father and said “I am done. Like Lirak, I will only fight the invaders.”

  Behind you! The voice in his head was urgent and Lirak spun around looking for danger. There! Beside a tree a bow was being raised and an arrow being drawn back. Lirak’s mind raced as fast as he had ever felt it, and he watched as the arrow was released and could see the arrow growing bigger as it flew toward him. He knew he could not dodge the arrow, and in desperation he forced his hand into the path of the arrow, attempting to deflect the arrow upward. The arrowhead raced toward his heart, slicing his palm but his hand struck the shaft behind the arrowhead, deflecting the arrow just enough that it sailed over his right shoulder and into the forest behind him.

  For a moment he stared at the bloody gash in his hand. Then he looked up in time to see a tawny form leaping toward the bowman.

  “No Thorn!” he cried, rushing forward. Thorn crashed into the bowman, knocking him to the ground and his jaws closed on the arm holding the bow. The man screamed in pain.

  Lirak grabbed Thorn and pulled back. Thorn reluctantly released the man, whose arm was a bloody mess, and whose thighs and chest showed parallel gouges from Thorn’s claws. Grabbing his arm, the man whimpered as a woman rushed to his side.

  “That’s enough!” Gawn’s booming voice cut through the scene like a knife. He, Jerok, Patrik and Baxi formed a phalanx around Lirak.

  Lirak’s hand and thigh throbbed as his senses slowly returned to normal. Looking around he saw villagers staring at him. Even Sampt seemed deflated, his mouth hanging open. After Gawn’s shout, a looming silence descended on the clearing.

  Chutan’s frail voice filled that silence. “Kodul told us that Lirak was chosen of Kathoias.” He paused as that sank in and pointed at the scars on Lirak’s forehead. “You see Her mark upon him.” He pointed at Thorn, who prowled around Lirak’s legs. “You saw Her spirit companion protect him.” He pointed at Lirak. “You saw him knock an arrow from the air.” He paused again and looked around. “He sent your family and friends to Kathoias while Sampt had you cowering in the forest.” He pointed to the mountains to the west. “He has brought the firestones.” He paused again. “Who among you still doubts that Lirak is a true Dwon?”

  There was a dead silence as Chutan pinned each villager with his piercing gaze. Sampt withered under that gaze and sank to his knees, whimpering as he cradled his burned arm to his chest.

  Lirak moved to the center of the clearing. “I am Dwon. I have sworn an oath to Faydah to repay the demons with death and destruction as they brought death and destruction to Luh-Yi. We will rest here for two days, and then we will begin the hunt. Who here will join me?”

  Hunters

  The sisters Wyla and Kathoias guide and protect men. Wyla guides the harvest and calms the restless soul. Kathoias is the huntress. Kathoias teaches by tooth and claw.

  – Dwon oral tradition

  Jerok, Lirak and Thorn knelt in the weeds at the top of a hill, looking south. It was just before noon. The hill had been cleared of trees by something, perhaps a fire, perhaps a windstorm of the sort that hit the forest from time to time. Whatever had happened, the hill provided a rare opportunity to look ahead without the trees blocking their view. It was their third day on the trail of the invaders.

  “Smoke,” Jerok said, pointing to the south and east.

  “Do you think that’s them?” Lirak asked.

  “We’ll have to get closer. If it is them, they’ve turned east somewhere ahead.”

  Lirak looked at the thin wisp of white rising up from the trees far ahead. “Two days at our present pace.”

  “Maybe two, maybe three,” Jerok said.

  Lirak looked ahead and saw another rolling set of hills ahead and to the south. “Their trail heads right past those hills. Once we get there we can be sure of their path and make our plans.”

  Jerok nodded “If we push it, we can be there by noon tomorrow.” He looked to the west at gathering clouds. “That is, if we could get there, but those clouds are headed right for us, and we may be hiding under a rock this time tomorrow.”

  Lirak stood. He whistled softly and Thorn stretched and stood to follow him.

  “You are turning that cat into a dog,” Jerok scoffed.

  “Let’s head back to the others,” Lirak said, and they headed back down the hill.

  The group followed the trail until noon, when they stopped to eat lunch. Mayrie sat next to Lirak on a mossy stone. She finished her simple meal of meat, nuts and berries and pulled her knees up against her chest, hugging her legs tightly. Lirak looked around for Thorn, but he was off somewhere taking care of his own lunch and was nowhere to be seen. Jerok and Baxi were sitting on a nearby boulder discussing something that Lirak could not hear. Hetyl was looking around the boulders, turning small rocks over from time to time, and occasionally pulling something from the ground and putting it into one of his many pouches. Patrik stood beside the boulder, looking to the west. Dobit and Niwoq chewed on strips of dried meat.

  “When you left for the firestones I thought you were the one in danger,” Mayrie said in far-off tone of voice. “But it was the rest of us that were.”

  “I should have been there,” Lirak said.

  “You would have been killed, like the others,” Mayrie said, and she slid to her left until her shoulder was touching Lirak’s. “I’m glad you weren’t. You’re here now, with me.” She rested her head on Lirak’s shoulder.

  Lirak put his arm around her shoulders and held her. He remembered their last kiss; it seemed so far away, in another time, another world. “How are you, Mayrie?” he asked. “Do you still hurt?”

  “Oh, my rib gives me some trouble, but it gets better every day. My body has mostly healed Lirak. But I’ll have the scars forever. I don’t think I’ll ever really be the same again.”

  “None of us will. But you took the worst of it.”

  They sat there in the sun for a moment, Lirak smelling Mayrie’s hair and feeling her breathe. Mayrie closed her eyes and her face relaxed.

  “We’re going to get hammered by that storm,” Patrik said, turning and walking toward Lirak.
“I think we may need to find some shelter as early as tonight.”

  Jerok and Baxi stopped talking and they looked west.

  “I think he’s right Lirak,” Jerok said.

  Lirak gently removed his arm from Mayrie and slid off the rock. He whistled loudly.

  “OK then, let’s get back on the trail,” he said. And they moved off, heading further south into the forest. As they moved off, Thorn emerged from the forest, licking his face, and rushed to catch up to Lirak.

  For most of the afternoon they walked steadily south. It became quiet as the forest creatures prepared for the oncoming storm. The wind started softly, but now was whipping through the tall trees, and even on the forest floor, the little band could feel it blowing. In the distance they could hear the booming thunder of the storm getting louder. Finally water drops worked their way through forest canopy and fell among the group.

  “OK, I guess we’ll have to stop soon,” Lirak said.

  “Let’s find a good dry camp spot,” Jerok said. “I’ll look to the right, Lirak can look left, and Baxi can look straight ahead. Whoever finds something, give a whistle.”

  Thorn bounded after Lirak but the rest waited on the trail. The rain was getting harder and the booming of the thunder was loud enough to cause Hetyl to cover his ears. Soon a whistle came from ahead. Baxi must have found something. They followed the sound and soon all nine were huddled underneath a large ledge of rock on the side of a small hill. The spot was a good one, the water on the ground flowed around the hill and the area under the boulder was dry. Jerok and Patrik cut some branches and placed them on the south side, blocking the wind and the spray of rain. Lirak gathered the driest wood he could find and started a small fire. Thorn found a snug crack in the rock, and was soon curled up and asleep.

  Once the fire was started, Lirak spread out the cat pelt for Mayrie to sleep. Patrik and Jerok brought some soft boughs in to use for bedding. All of them were tired, and the roaring thunder made it impossible to talk anyway. Lirak took first watch, and the rest threw stones to determine the order. Mayrie and Hetyl didn’t stand watch. Patrik drew second watch, Jerok third, and Baxi last.