Slowly, Will crept into the forest, trying to stay halfway hidden among the foliage. Was it a person? Or maybe an animal? The frightening thought that it could be the Sahk-Behk coming after him stopped Will dead in his tracks for a moment. He had to know what it was.
The light began to move back into the forest, deeper and deeper. Had it seen him? It couldn’t have.
Will continued to track the light further and further into the depths of the colossal forest. Eventually, it stopped in the middle of a clearing. Will approached and, at a distance of about fifty feet, yelled, “What are you!?” He quickly realized how stupid that was; these people don’t speak English.
“Come closer.” The voice was deep and commanding.
Will stood up straight, as if lightning had struck him, and began to walk forward.
“Who are you?” Will asked again.
The being was starting to come into focus. It was like staring at the sun for a while and finally seeing its shape. The being had the form of a large man who appeared to be rather muscular and was probably pushing eight feet in height. The sheer size of the being put Will on edge. What was this?
“I,” the creature began to say, “am a messenger. An angel sent by the Lord God to speak with you. My name is Michael.”
Will’s eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. As he stood there in front of the being, his knees began to shake. From behind Michael rose two wings, each seven feet long and lined with gold.
“Why me…?” Will asked as he fell to his knees. The sheer awesomeness had knocked him down and his whole body began to tremble.
“You have been chosen by God to do amazing things here, William. You will lead these people to salvation from an evil that has owned these lands for a millennia.” The angel’s voice held power within it; a controlled and loving power.
“I’m not …”
“I have been instructed to give you this crooked staff, that through it this world may once again be straightened.”
In front of Will appeared a staff made of a dark wood that rounded and pulled its way up to a knot at the top. For a moment, it glowed like the angel. Then it lost its beautiful radiance and became like any other stick in the forest.
“Take this and go. You are needed.” The angel Michael raised his face to the night sky and spread his wings, then vanished, taking all the light with him.
As Will’s eyes readjusted to the night, he realized he was back at camp, on his knees, facing the tree line. He sat there for a moment, dumbfounded by the reality of it all; it was all too much to take in. The staff lay there in front of him. He slowly reached for it. As he touched it, he half expected it to shock him or knock him back; but instead it felt like any other stick. He picked it up and examined its grooves as he slowly stood back up.
In the center of the village a scream rose.
What now? Will thought.
10 Thohg-Behk
Earlier that afternoon, as the chief of the Algaer spoke, every word held great weight with a young man in the front named Kellin. He was named Kellin as a reminder of their forefather, Kellis, father of Raek, who led them to this land. He was not revered as a fighter, but a seeker of peace and knowledge of the world around him. So, naturally, when the chief called for the fighting to cease, Kellin was the first to agree. Kellin looked over at the men who had recently arrived at their village. The one who had taken the swing was red with anger, his hair wild, while his friend was intently staring at the chief, as if attempting to understand his words. Kellin was not angry at the man for what he had done. He was only concerned. For, as the chief warned, a fight calls out the Thohg-Behk, a creature created to sense fights, whose bloodlust couldn’t be satisfied. It had been years since the last occurrence in the village, but its absence didn’t disprove its existence.
After the speech by the chief, Kellin sought after the newcomer who was intently listening. As he approached him, the man named Tripp said something to him in his strange tongue.
“I’m sorry; I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” Kellin replied.
Tripp stared at him, obviously not comprehending anything Kellin said.
“I have come,” continued Kellin, “to help you learn Algaer, and to learn of your travels.”
Once again, Tripp stood there confused, this time shaking his head. He was obviously frustrated by the gap between them.
“I have a map and some written texts I would like to show you.” Kellin turned quickly to retrieve them, knowing that Tripp would probably just turn and walk away. Instead, Tripp followed, as if understanding that Kellin wanted to show him something.
Poor people, Kellin thought to himself as he retrieved the texts from a nearby building. They have no idea where they are or how things work here. They don’t even understand what we’re saying to them. He turned with the documents and handed them over to Tripp. Tripp stared at the map and the texts, perplexed by the letters. To help Tripp, Kellin pointed with his hand at a point on the map and then pointed to the ground beneath them.
“We are here,” Kellin said slowly once again trying to help. “The Sahk-Behk,” he pointed to the map again, “are there,” he motioned his hand toward an area beyond the trees.
Tripp’s eyes opened widely as he realized what he could accomplish with the language now that he knew it was written.
For hours, the two of them helped each other better understand each others’ languages, breaking down the barrier, as Kellin would slowly sound out each letter and word.
“This document is the story of our arrival to this land,” Kellin stated as Tripp stared, bewildered.
“It tells of the coming of the Algaer and the epic of Kellis.” Kellin waited a moment to see if Tripp was interested in the epic. Tripp’s eyes stared intently as he tried to gather what Kellin was saying. “Kellis was the son of a soldier in East Sohandan, a land beyond the Sijordiin Sea. Kellis grew weary of the evils in the land of Sohandan, and of the Garran territories. In those lands, giants ruled and warriors fought, and the land was ruled by the sword. After his father Gurang died at the hand of Sabravon, Kellis looked to the sea. King Uki, a giant, told him that the sea was an empty and lonely place, but Kellis went anyways and fashioned himself a boat made of Kuri. When Kellis arrived to the island, he discovered that it was uninhabited by Thohg and Giants. So Kellis returned to bring his family, his wife Loris and his two sons, Raek and Saleek. There is more information in the scrolls, but I see you don’t understand much yet. It can wait.”
Tripp was staring into a scroll and jotting letters into a notebook he had in his pocket.
Finally, Kellin was exhausted and pointed to his house and pretended to close his eyes, as if hinting he would sleep.
“That is good, I will talk to you after the night,” Tripp said in Algaer. Kellin’s eyes widened as he realized this stranger had taken in so much of his language already.
“Night,” Kellin replied with a big smile on his face.
As Kellin laid down on his bed, he thought of the possibilities that might come from communicating with this man. It was intriguing to him because the tribe had spoken with outsiders very little for years. As he drifted off into sleep, he thought of how proud his father, the chief, would be if he could communicate with these men. Even his dreams were filled with foreign worlds and philosophies, though not for long…
As he slept, an evil creature crouched next to Kellin’s bed. Its skin was dark gray and covered with warts and scars, like the sickly toad it was. Its face was rounded and greener than the rest of its body, a dark grayish green. Its eyes stared at the body of Kellin with a fearsome orange glow. Orange like the flames that licked its iris, its tongue was licking his lips. His left hand was resting on Kellin’s bed and the nail from his first finger was on Kellin’s wrist. He was checking Kellin’s pulse, though not for the same reason you might think. He just liked the feeling of flowing blood, and in a moment he would once again get to taste it. His ears came out of his head like a badly rolled up pie
ce of paper, with scarred holes penetrating them. But these physical deformities did not keep him from hearing almost anything and everything.
His hand jerked back for a moment. Someone had stirred awake, but not Kellin. The monster turned his head eerily backwards, looking at the little girl who slept across the room: Kellin’s sister. His eyes stayed on her like a hawk watches its prey, hoping the girl would remain asleep, the last thing he needed was a scream. The memory of the last time a girl screamed hit him. It was only about a year ago. He had been lucky to get out of the village alive, but how he loved coming to the village. It wasn’t easy waiting for freshly-spilled blood to hit the ground. How he longed for more. His mouth began to salivate at the tantalizing thought.
The little girl moved again, the movement distracting the creature’s thoughts. He rotated his head around again to stare at Kellin. Maybe after killing him he would suck her dry too, he thought.
Gasp.
The monster jerked his head around to see the little girl sitting up, readying to scream and give away his presence. The scream was as blood curdling as it was an indication that death was upon her and staring into her soul.
The creature could already hear the men coming, with weapons to try and kill him. He wouldn’t be extinguished that easily, he thought. At full height, he was nearly six and a half feet and built to inflict pain. His black hair went down his head to the base of his spine. This monster was not a figment from someone’s nightmare; he himself was the nightmare. He stretched out his arms, flexing his muscles and readying for the flow of blood on the battlefield.
The first villager to respond entered, sword drawn and ready to slay. He swung his sword swiftly, but not quick enough. With one hand, the monster reached over, grabbed the man’s head and simply twisted.
How weak these mortals are, he thought. I am Pasultu, born of fire, breastfed from the flame, you cannot kill me!
The second man ran in now, with a bow and arrow already prepped for launch, but the monster was quick and sly. It jumped, missing the arrow and disappearing into the shadows. By now, Kellin had awoken and grabbed his sister, fleeing from the hut. The man with the bow continued to fire his remaining arrows into the darkness.
It was quiet.
From one of the beams in the rafters, the monster dropped and kicked his adversary out through the door. He was furious. He had to find his target, and these feeble attempts to stop him were nothing this time. He took a step out of the doorway and stared into the cold dark night, welcoming its imperious shadow.
From the middle of the village, another man ran toward him. This one was different than the Algaer; his skin was fair. The monster tilted his head in curiosity as the man ran forward. The monster’s eyes looked to his foe’s weapon of choice. A stick? What was this? Some sort of distraction? He looked around quickly, trying to detect any real threats. None?
The man ran with great speed, despite what looked like a cast on his leg. He held the stick into the air and then, out of nowhere, they came. Chariots of fire – like the ones that swore to imprison Pasultu’s soul – sprang out of the darkness, driven by beings mad with rage.
“It can’t be,” he growled. Knowing the danger all too well from previous clandestine battles, Pasultu escaped the scene, summoning all the strength he could muster. Sprinting away, he tripped over a rock, breaking his toes. He got up as fast as possible and turned to look back. The flames behind him disappeared and he was once again left alone in his miserable, yet comforting shadows.
As Will ran toward the monster, staff in hand, he had no intention of actually accomplishing anything. When the chariots appeared, Will almost fell to his knees, fearing that they were attacking him, until he realized their target. The heat was so intense next to where the chariots had ridden, it could not be duplicated, even by the blending of suns.
Kellin stood next to the fire, holding his little sister, Saleeda. His hand gripped her so hard his knuckles were white. Saleeda stood in amazement of this stranger standing in the middle of her village wielding such power.
Will stood facing the forest, gripping the staff in both hands. To the onlookers behind him, Will epitomized an amazing hero; the one who would defy the deities who plagued this land. From the front, Will’s expression was nothing short of fear. He was terrified, in fact. He was breathing hard from the run... or was it from panic?
Will continued to stand there in front of the tree line as the villagers stared at him in awe.
Tripp was completely unaware of what had happened in the village. His studies throughout the day had exhausted him. When he awoke to noise, he exited his hut to see that everyone in the village was staring at Will. Tripp walked quickly toward his friend.
“Umm Will, what just happened here? You didn’t hit anyone, did you?” Tripp asked, humorously assessing the situation. But Will just stared on.
“What happened, Will?”
Will turned toward Tripp, his face grim. “I don’t know.”
Miles to the south, Pasultu entered the palace of Thohg Rine, drenched from the swim to the southern island. As he approached the entrance, two large guards of the Liwitum blocked the door.
“I am here to see Cirik, Lord of Rine.”
The two behemoths moved their stone-like legs and opened the door.
It was late, and the light inside the Rine made it difficult to see anything. Circular pits of fire riddled the building. Toward the back of the long hall was Cirik.
Pasultu fell to the ground and covered his head.
“What is it?” the deep gravelly voice called.
“News, my Lord.”
“What news?” Cirik roared.
“They’re here…”
Cirik’s head, until now, had been facing the ground. He lifted his face, eyes wide.
“I know not how. They attacked me on their chariots, and leading them was a man with a stick.”
Cirik stood up, showing his full height, his chest pushed out and arms outstretched. “How?”
11 Hiktar
In the morning, Will tried to explain to Tripp and the rest of his companions what had happened in the forest, and how he had been given the crooked staff. It was there, sitting next to him inside the hut. Its presence drew all the attention away from Will and to itself: the crooked staff.
“I knew it!” Awad declared after the story.
“Knew what?” asked Tripp with obvious irritation.
“This man calls upon demons to fight his battles,” Awad said.
The silence was overwhelming.
“You think those were demons?” questioned Fernando.
“What else rides in on Hell’s flames?”
The question set in on everyone’s minds.
“I don’t even believe in demons and I know those had to be. You are in command of evil spirits,” Awad said to Will. “Your soul is the devil’s.”
Once again silence ensued.
“I swear I’m about this close to belting you in the mouth, Awad,” said Will with fire in his eyes. “The being who gave me this said he was Michael, and that he came from God, not Satan.”
Awad stood up and left, Fernando and Lo Su following close behind him.
Tripp looked up from the staff. It had stolen his attention since they had first sat down. “You said Michael?”
“Yeah, you know him?” Will asked jokingly.
“Actually, I do.” Will could see that Tripp was serious.
“In the Bible, there was a messenger angel named Michael. He visited many people in the Bible, including Mary. That angel from thousands of years in the past visited you last night.” Tripp stared intently at Will, further emphasizing the gravity of the situation.
“Why did he give the staff to me, then?” Will said, taken aback.
“I have no idea. What else did he tell you?”
“That through the staff this crooked world would be straightened, or something like that.”
All eyes locked onto the staff again, as if they were all
waiting for it to rise up and glow. But nothing happened.
“I have to go,” said Tripp. “The tribe wants an answer for what happened last night.”
Outside the hut, Kellin stood waiting patiently. Though it was uncommon for the chief’s son to wait, he accepted it humbly. As Tripp exited, Kellin walked right up beside him and tilted his head to the side. To Kellin, culturally, it was as if he had raised his hands and asked the word what? But to Tripp, who did not know the gesture, he just looked awkward.
Finally understanding, Tripp responded “I don’t know how to tell you yet.” Tripp held out his hands, symbolizing his need for the written texts from the previous day.
“Grahven,” Kellin replied and then ran off quickly.
“For all I know, you could be bringing me fruit,” Tripp chuckled as Kellin sped off.
The rest of the day for Tripp was spent arduously reading and examining the different texts, trying to find the words to explain.
As for Will, he had had enough. All he could think was that he wanted off this crazy ride. After Tripp left, he followed, as a way of preventing a second attack on Awad for his remarks. The only thing that could take his mind off the pressures at hand was Rya, and after last night, Will couldn’t find her.
As he walked through the village, the Algaer seemed to be avoiding him. Their stares followed him everywhere he went as he looked for Rya. Eventually he wandered toward the beach and stared out at the ocean, collecting his thoughts and trying to keep it together. A man came toward him on the beach carrying with him the tools to remove Will’s cast.
“I don’t think it’s ready, buddy,” Will said laughingly.
When the man removed the cast, Will looked, expecting it to be worse than it was. Instead, he looked at his leg and found it to be perfectly fine.
“How did you?… never mind.” Will stared at his leg a while, pondering, then went back to just watching the waves crash on the shore. He had seen enough craziness to simply not question anything for the rest of the day.
The Crooked Staff (The Chronicles of Will Book 1) Page 5