Revelations of Doom

by Jedidiah Behe

  Tarriel grabbed one of them as he was hustling past her. She almost pulled him off his feet.

  “What is it woman? Can’t you see we are busy?” He tried to pull away but Tarriel had his arm locked in a vice grip.

  “What is all this commotion about?” she asked him.

  The soldier looked surprised at her strength. “A bunch of Culdoran barbarians were spotted by our scouts. We were ordered to attack and sent a small regiment out.” He tried to pull away again, anxious to be off. “Most of our men were slaughtered in the attack. They sent for reinforcements. Those dirty barbarians are going to pay.” He finally yanked free and took off running toward the squad that had already left, heading toward her friends.

  Tarriel gave a quick glance over her shoulder to Lucian and Eliath. The look told them her intentions, and she was off, running after the squadron that was heading for her fellow warriors.

  They sprinted off after her, trying to keep up.

  At least twenty men had set out from the gate ahead of her. Lucian didn’t know how many had gone before them. The soldier Tarriel had stopped was lagging behind the others and she caught up to him first. Coming along side of him as he ran, she pulled out the dagger on his belt and at the same time, slammed her own dagger into his throat, pulling it free quickly as he tripped and toppled to the ground. She left him to die and charged on harder.

  Tarriel, still a good distance ahead of Lucian and Eliath, came upon the rest of the soldiers before they had reached the camp. Lucian could see the camp beyond the file of soldiers and the heavy fighting that was taking place. He yelled at Tarriel to wait, but she raced ahead, cutting right through the middle of the two columns of soldiers.

  As she ran past the first two men, she bent low, and sliced through the tendons at the back of their knees. They screamed out and fell to the ground, unable to stand. The two men ahead heard their screams and looked back just in time for Tarriel to rush by and slice both their throats. Now more soldiers were turning. The next two in line got her daggers buried into their chests. She left the blades in them as they fell backwards, gripping the hilts with a confused look on their faces. Some of the others tried to pull their blades free and swing at her but she raced past them before they could. One tried to tackle her and lunged. She met his attack with a palm to his nose, crushing it flat against his face. He grunted in pain and crumpled to the dirt as she sprinted ahead, desperate to join with the others.

  Lucian had watched in awe as Tarriel cut through the file of men heading toward the campsite. In a matter of seconds she had cut down seven of them, probably killing at least four. But as she cleared them, rushing on to help out her friends who were pitched in battle, two of the soldiers stopped and brought up a crossbow, aiming at her exposed back.

  Lucian slid to a stop, pulling the bow off his shoulder. He hated what he had to do, but these men were wrong, and where diplomacy failed, force was all that was left. With fluid precision from countless hours of practice, he pulled an arrow free and nocked it. He aimed at the soldier, who was quickest at bringing up his crossbow, and let the arrow fly. Within a blink he had another arrow nocked, and he let it loose toward the second soldier. Both arrows thunked into their targets within a second of each other. The crossbowmen never got their shots off. Each of them, struck in the shoulder, fell to the ground screaming in pain and trying to pull the arrows out. Lucian swung his bow back over his shoulder and charged ahead.

  Eliath had rushed past Lucian as he fired his bow and was now caught up with the soldiers just as they hit the camp. Taking the sword of the first soldier he came to, after sweeping the man’s legs out from under him, he quickly disarmed two more, leaving them with grievous wounds. He did not wish to kill anyone if possible. These men were only following orders. Another pair turned on him, forcing him into a defensive stance.

  Lucian came barreling into one of soldiers engaging Eliath. As they hit the ground, the man tried to come around with his sword but Lucian pulled in close to him so that he couldn’t connect. He slammed his head into the soldiers face, shattering his nose and taking him out of the fight momentarily. He picked up the man’s sword just in time to deflect an attack from another soldier. As he stood and backed up, deflecting more slashes from the assailant, he afforded a quick glance over to the camp. What he saw both impressed, and devastated him.

  Tarriel and the other Culdoran warriors were in a tight circle formation, fighting off the Ganthian soldiers with amazing effect. But in the middle of their circle, lay the body of a Culdoran. Lucian could not see who it was.

  Another soldier joined in the attack, forcing him backwards. He gave up some ground, but angled toward Eliath. He faked an opening to the soldier on his left. The man saw it and came in hard; swinging with all his might for what he thought would be the death blow. Just as the blade cut in close, Lucian reversed his direction of attack and stepped back, slapping the sword away from him. The move caused both of his attackers to slam into each other. Lucian hesitated, and the tip of a blade sliced through his tunic. He jumped back and worked his sword fiercely, trying to keep the two men at bay.

  Eliath deflected his enemy’s blade high and wide. Before the soldier could bring it back in, Eliath cut a deep gash to the inside of the man’s arm, slicing muscle and tendons. The soldier dropped his sword and fell, clutching the injured arm and howling in pain.

  Eliath caught sight of Lucian’s peril and looked toward the camp where the Culdorans were fighting for their lives. When he saw that two of the innocent women had already fallen, he realized that this had spiraled out of control. It was time to end it.

  The two Ganthians attacking Lucian didn’t hear Eliath coming. The first man never knew what hit him as one of Eliath’s blades burst through the soldier’s chest. With the other blade, he severed the second soldier’s arm at the elbow, which was swinging in at Lucian. The man screamed and fell to the ground holding his nub. Eliath kept his suffering short, reversing the grip on his sword and plunged the blade into the man’s chest.

  He saw Lucian’s look of shock as he stared at the two soldiers lying dead at his feet. Eliath showed no emotion as he turned and charged towards the Culdorans.

  His heart sank as another of the fierce women fell to a blade. The world seemed to slow as he saw a soldier come behind Somlin, while she was engaged with two others, and pierce her through the back with his sword.

  Eliath entered the fray. As he closed in, he snatched up a spear that was embedded in a fallen Ganthian and launched it into the back of one of the soldiers that was about to land a deadly strike to Tophin. He lopped off the leg of one soldier at the knee with his sword then quickly pierced the chest of a second man that had turned to engage him. He couldn’t pull his sword free in time to deflect the axe of a third soldier coming in at him. He stood motionless, watching the thick blade descend on him.

  Lucian dove in under the axe, slamming his shoulder into the man’s chest and tackling him to the ground. The impact caused the axe to flip from the soldiers hand and Lucian rolled off him and picked it up, slamming the butt of the shaft into the man’s face as he tried to stand. Before the soldier even hit the ground, Lucian was coming down with a heavy chop and buried the axe deep into the soldier’s head. As he looked up, the last of the Ganthian soldiers were falling dead to the ground. His heart sank at what he saw.

  Tarriel, Tophin, Lorani, Voneel and Eanetha stood in a tight circle panting, covered in blood. The bodies of Somlin, Sadril and Dafine lay at their feet. Around the circle of Culdoran warriors, lay the bodies of over thirty Ganthian soldiers.

  Lucian fell to his knees, no longer able to stand. He stared at the blood that covered his hands. Someone gripped his shoulder and when he looked up it was Tarriel standing over him, breathing deeply, with enemy blood spattered all over her.

  “Do not weep for my warriors, they died a good death,” she said between breaths.

  Lucian looked up at her bloodstained face. “I weep for all that had to die here today,
because of ignorance. If they had only listened to me, this would not have happened!”

  Tarriel looked confused. “You would shed tears for these fools, even after they tried to kill you?”

  Lucian used his sleeve to wipe some blood from his face. “No one should have to die so needlessly. These men were only doing as ordered.”

  He stood and started to walk off but Tarriel grabbed his arm, stopping him. “You are an honorable man, Lucian of Yavasura, but your laments are wasted on these dogs.”

  He paused a moment, thinking back to everything he had learned from the Averese Shaman, and looked into her eyes. “It’s Lucian of Drahvanael.”

  Tarriel loosed her grip and stepped back, her expression pinched tight. “What did you say?”

  Lucian shrugged, “Just something the Averese Shaman told me, a silly story.” He turned and stumbled out of the camp, not really knowing why he said it either.

  Tarriel watched him curiously as he walked away Memories of an ancient scroll she had read once pulled at her thoughts.

  Eliath caught up to Lucian, stopping him. “We must leave here brother. More men will come and I do not wish to spill anymore innocent blood this day.”

  “You didn’t seem to have a problem doing so thus far,” responded Lucian. He instantly regretted what he had said, knowing the truth of the matter.

  Eliath looked hurt from the comment. “We did what could not be avoided, Lucian. Whether these men attacked us out of malice, or simply because they were ordered to, we could not stand by and let ourselves be slaughtered. The number of lives lost here today would pale in comparison to the deaths that this land will see if I had allowed you to be taken.”

  Lucian looked curiously at Eliath. Remnants of his recent dream flickered through his mind. “What do you mean by that?”

  Eliath just shook his head. “Do not be so quick to pass judgment on yourself, or others. Only the Father may do this. Look closely at what you were forced to do here today and ask yourself if there were any other way. What happened here was for a reason, and it is something more profound than you or I could possibly know.” Eliath started back toward the others before Lucian could respond. “But save your thoughts for a later time. Now we must move.”

  Lucian’s mind reached out for answers that continued to elude him about what was happening to his life, his world. He looked again at the blood on his hands and clothes before joining the others.

  The Culdorans had already started making up carriers to take away the bodies of their friends. They had to get away from Ganth, but they would not leave their fallen comrades behind. They needed a proper burial.

  It didn’t take long for the group to be on their way. Lucian and Eliath insisted on helping carry the bodies. Lucian’s legs burned from the effort of running for so long while carrying the excess weight.

  They ran north, following the Veenjaru Mountains, knowing that the Ganthians would probably send out a regiment to look for them along the road to Yavasura. This way, they would keep off the trail. Once they were several miles outside of the borders, up into the mountains, they finally slowed. Nightfall was approaching so they looked for a good place to set up camp. They placed the bodies together and covered them with pine boughs, to keep the smell from attracting wild animals, until they could be buried. Each person rigged their own shelter. They would make no fire on this night so that they wouldn't give away their camp if anyone happened to be looking for them in the area.

  Once all the shelters were up, the Culdorans went to the task of preparing the burial. Before they were lowered into the pits, Tarriel spoke a Culdoran prayer, then pulled out a knife and plunged it into the chest of Somlin.

  Lucian lost his breath, he started to run over and stop her when Eliath put a hand to his chest, halting him.

  "This is their custom. Do not disturb them now, only because it differs from our own."

  Lucian turned his head away as Tarriel cut out the hearts of her three fallen comrades. She placed the hearts in three canisters that were shaped from tin. The tins had been used to carry some of their foods and spices, but she had emptied and cleaned them.

  After she was done, the others lowered the bodies down into the pit they had dug, just one pit for all three. No more words were spoken and none of the warriors shed a single tear during the ritual.

  A Warriors Resolve

  Tarriel called the first watch and the others fell to sleep one by one, all but Lucian. He waited until he was sure everyone else was slumbering and then got up and walked out of the camp. He found Tarriel perched on a large boulder thirty-some yards away. He wasn't trying to be so quiet, but he startled her. When she saw that it was only him, she put the knife away, sat back down on the boulder, and looked out into the forest, wiping away what could only be tears.

  Lucian’s opinion of her was growing.

  "What do you want and why aren't you sleeping?" she asked in a sullen voice that she was trying to make stern.

  "I came to check on you. I couldn’t sleep,” Lucian replied thoughtfully.

  "Well which is it, did you come to check on me, or could you not sleep?" she tried to hide a sniff after the last remark.

  Lucian wouldn’t let her stone facade push him away this time. "I couldn't sleep, because I was worried for you."

  Tarriel looked over her shoulder at him for a moment and let out a small humph, then looked away again. "I am fine. The battle was nearly over when I arrived. I didn't receive a scratch."

  Lucian nearly laughed at that. "I watched you take down more than ten men in less time than it would take a most men pull free their sword." He paused to watch her. She acted as though she didn't hear him. "But that is not what I was talking about,” he continued. “Somlin was a dear friend to you. I have lost someone close to me as well and I know how you must feel. I am sorry for your loss and I pray that you will never have to feel such pain again."

  "Loss is part of the path a warrior must endure. It has not been the first, and I have no delusions that it will be the last." Her voice was cold and distant.

  "I still pray that you don't. And again, I am sorry for your friend. She was a great warrior and I am honored to have had her protection." Lucian turned to walk back into camp, having spoken his peace.

  "Wait…Lucian," she said without looking back. A moment passed before she spoke again. "You have never killed before, have you?"

  "No, today was the first time." His eyes went blank as the face of the man he had killed flashed through his mind.

  "It is a hard thing to cope with,” said Tarriel then, grabbing his attention. “I have killed many men, and still see all of their faces in my dreams." She motioned for him to come and sit by her on the rock. "You fought with great honor and bravery today, like a Culdoran warrior."

  Lucian climbed up onto the rock next to Tarriel. "I hesitated, and was nearly killed. I fought out of fear, and then anger. I acted on impulse alone, nothing more."

  "A sign of a truly great warrior," she said, leaning forward, drawing his attention into her beautiful eyes. "You saved my life today…and the lives of the others as well. For this, I am grateful, and indebted to you."

  "You owe me no debt,” replied Lucian, unable to hold her gaze now. “Your friends would not have died if they hadn't come with me to Ganth. I brought this Doom down on them."

  Tarriel grabbed his arm. The strength in her grip always surprised Lucian. "It was our choice to follow you, not yours. We were sent to help you for a reason."

  Lucian shrugged off her statement. He was growing unsure of his purpose in all of this. He was no closer to finding out why his parents had to die, except for the ramblings of an old man about a long lost heritage, which Lucian thought a ridiculous notion. He decided to change the subject.

  "Why did you cut out their hearts?" he asked softly.

  Tarriel scanned the darkness for a while before answering. "Animals will eventually sniff out their bodies and they will be dug up and defiled. That is not a proper burial fo
r a warrior.” She looked at Lucian and tapped her chest with her fingers. “The heart is what makes a true warrior. I cut out their hearts because I can’t take their bodies with me to Culdora. So I will take their hearts, and burn them atop a funeral pyre before the entire tribe as it should be."

  Lucian was embarrassed at what he had thought of her actions at first. "I understand," was all he could say.

  Nearly fifteen minutes passed in silence as the two looked off into the night, at the unseen things that haunted their thoughts.

  "Why did you call yourself a descendant of Drahvanael?" asked Tarriel. She was looking at him curiously.

  "It was nothing really,” said Lucian. He was a bit shocked by the sudden change in topic. “I was only repeating something I was told by the Averese Shaman."

  Tarriel studied him for a moment before finally speaking again. "We have very old scrolls in our archives that mention the reign of Drahvanael, so old that not many among my people even know of their existence."

  She had Lucian's attention now. "How do you know of these scrolls?"

  Tarriel gave an uneasy laugh. "Very few Culdorans know -none other than my father really- that I enjoy reading." She looked sheepishly at Lucian, as though she just told him a ghastly secret. To her it may have been just that.

  Lucian tried to hide his smile. “Tarriel, you continue to surprise me. What is so bad about reading?"

  She waited a moment, trying to gauge if he was being serious. "Well, most warriors read what they must, about war, tactics, and the history of Culdora. None take the time to actually read about other cultures. They think that it takes away from their training as a warrior."

  “And yet you read,” stated Lucian, understanding the irony. “And you are the greatest among the Culdoran warriors. Maybe all the others should follow in your wake."