Revary

by Abigail Linhardt

  “From the wilds of the northern mountains we have brought something so delicious the children will be begging us for more,” the chief laughed. “Too long have we starved ourselves from man’s flesh!”

  Terror gripped Clare’s heart as two norcan walked out supporting a large wooden pole between them. Hanging from it bound by the wrists overhead was a human man clad in animal skins and furs. His skin was tanned, but his hair was bleached blond from constant exposure to the sun. He fought and struggled as they presented him to the chief.

  “Not enough, you say?” the chief cried to his ravenous horde. “That’s why we bring them in pairs. So our people do not go wanting for such a fine food.”

  Behind the other two norcan, a second set appeared, this one bringing a female with dark skin and long, raven black hair. She screamed and thrashed at her captors, but to no avail. The man called to her and reached, but they could not touch.

  The two norcan carrying her propped her wooden pole between two others. The woman had stopped screaming now, accepting her fate bravely from where she hung.

  “Servants of Umbra will perish in the great fire,” she said calmly but defiantly.

  The chief smirked. “We are not that thing’s servant! Norcan are free creatures of this plane. We do not serve the Umbra!” With one swipe of his giant claymore, the chief cut her throat, bleeding her into the fire. The man cried out for his lost comrade and struggled against his bonds.

  A scream escaped Clare, but was stifled by sour bile rising in her throat at the sight of real blood. The smell of it hitting the fire was all the encouragement she needed to vomit onto the ground in front of her. Tears of terror and from retching slipped down her face.

  “I like man’s flesh when it’s tender,” the chief called, taking a whip from his belt. With fast, arching strokes, he brought the thick leather down on the man’s face, chest, and back. Repeatedly, the brute whipped the man until his cries dissipated.

  “Put him with the other,” the chief commanded. “They will smell the burning flesh of their fellow human.”

  Thinking of the only thing she could, Clare tried to feign semi-unconsciousness to avoid unpleasant exchanges with the norcan. The man was released from the pole and tied on the stake next to Clare. She could hear him panting and coughing in his own blood that trickled down his face and body. Opening her eyes slowly, she turned her head to look at him. The amount to which this man resembled Lance was unsettling. He was a little older, broader, and his skin was darker, but he was clearly a barbarian. He met her gaze but she could not read his face.

  She wanted to say something, anything to relieve his pain.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered. “Somehow, I get the feeling I could have stopped that from happening.”

  The man shook his head. “For years, the norcan have been hunting our people for sport and food. We have migrated every decade to avoid them, but they travel farther each time to find us.”

  “Determined beasts,” she said, disgusted. “Are they in allegiance with Umbra?”

  The man shook his head. “No creature of this land is. Sadly, they are innocent of that. Though that may be the only thing of which they are not guilty.”

  “Who was she?” She dreaded the answer.

  “She was my mentor,” he sighed and looked away. “She taught me the sword and some magic. We had left our home to search for something that our prophet had seen in his dreams.” He looked back at her and her strange clothes. “He had said an earthling had come to the planes and would join our fight with the great Umbra. We are not religious like others here, but we know the myths surrounding one earthling from long ago who came to our world and did many great things.”

  “What is an earthling supposed to do?” she moaned. “Is there anyone who can tell me?”

  “There is the oracle,” the barbarian suggested. “Some say he has a connection to the world of the earthlings. But that quest may be folly. My people were looking for him when my party was attacked by the norcan.”

  Clare asked in disbelief, “You left your tribe to find an oracle who may tell you about something you don’t know exists?”

  The man hung his head again and gathered his strength to speak. “It was my idea. Our tribes are suffering, our people vanishing into corruption. I thought if we could find some kind of hope…” he stopped speaking as his voice began to quiver.

  Clare looked back at the fire, but only for a moment. The man was blaming himself for this.

  “Can you take me there?” Clare asked, her eyes lighting up. Maybe she could reunite with Gwen and the elf. “I may be able to help you if I can speak to this oracle.”

  “How can we escape?” the barbarian asked. The fire where the norcan were gathered was blazing now and shouts of glee rose to the sky.

  “I will help you,” a guttural voice spoke up.

  The chief’s son, who Clare had noted earlier as the one who had pulled her out of the river, stepped out of the tall grass where he had been spying on them.

  “Free us just to revel in a chase?” the barbarian asked the monster.

  “I have never delighted in the gore that my people do,” he said, lowering his yellow eyes. “My distain for our way of life has been the cause of many conflicts between me and my father. I can see you safely out of our territory, if you promise me one thing.”

  Clare studied the fierce creature in the dim light. His body was scarred and his muscles were firm. The large claymore at his side distinguished his race’s savage style. She’d be taking a great risk if she agreed.

  “What do you want, Folkvar?” she asked him, speaking his name. It had come to her just like the others had. This did not go unnoticed by the barbarian.

  “I want to leave my people and live in peace among others.”

  “What you ask for is a miracle,” the barbarian said through gritted teeth. “Just this night, you feasted on man’s flesh!”

  “This is not how I want to live!” Folkvar cried, unsheathing his massive blade. He stayed his hand and panted his anger away. He ran his clawed hand through his black hair and sighed. “I want to be free of it.”

  Clare looked over her barbarian companion and nodded. “You can do this. Help me to help him and you will be counted a hero among your people.”

  Something told her the barbarian would like having glory and honor blazing behind his name in the minds of his tribe. She also knew the resolve and strength it would take for him to entrust his life and escape with a creature that had stood by and watched a woman be butchered and burned.

  “For your freedom and mine,” Folkvar said to the man directly.

  He grunted and hissed through barred teeth. “Very well. If you free us and take us beyond the territory of your people, I will aid you in finding peace.”

  Clare said quickly, “You, norcan, bring herbs to heal him with. Can you do that?”

  He faltered in his movements ever so slightly, but Clare saw him consider his actions. “I can do what I know,” he said.

  Chapter 9

  The Star and The Oracle

  It was simple for Folkvar to untie them and sneak into the shade of the surrounding wood with Clare and the barbarian on his back.

  “Do you know Calimorden?” Clare whispered in the darkness as Folkvar stepped cautiously into the dark forest. His race was notorious for traps and pitfalls. “I was there when Greylheim attacked and I have to know if the prince is safe.”

  “Calimorden is far away from here,” the barbarian answered. He pointed ahead of them. “Those mountains are the home of my tribe. We live in the hills and the peaks. It is like no other land with caves and pastures among the mountains. Beyond my home lies the path to the oracle and the door to its desert hiding place.”

  When they were a good distance from the norcan settlement, Folkvar broke into a canter that took them quickly through the woods. Clare was surprised that his gait was smooth and she was not clinging to his black mane for life. Behind her, the barbarian was not fairin
g so well.

  “My people do not mount such beasts,” he gasped as they ran. “We prefer the speed of our own well-controlled feet!”

  Once in the trees, Clare told Folkvar to stop and treat the barbarian’s wounds. She expected him to hesitate again, but he didn’t. They stopped and rested as he carefully cleaned the wounds and dressed them as best he could. The whole time, the barbarian winced and his face showed he wanted nothing more than to be away from the norcan. But Clare thought the sight was nice in a way.

  Looking up, she marveled at the spattering of bright stars above. There were more stars in this world than she had ever seen, except for in Hubble images and other such pictures. Thinking Folkvar must be similar to the centaurs, Clare asked why it was flashing like it was.

  “I do not watch the stars like the centaurs do,” he confessed. “We know nothing of them.”

  “And now you may never,” the barbarian said sadly. He added quickly to avoid offending the being dressing his wounds, “Not because of anything you’ve done. This is the time of year they make their pilgrimage to the Nether.”

  Clare nodded. “I’ve seen them.”

  “They haven’t returned.” His voice was mellow. “They should have come back days ago. Centaurs are never late.”

  Clare didn’t understand, but there was something ominous in that truth. She’d always thought centaurs were strong, noble creatures and if they were not returning despite their wisdom and power, then something darker than she had thought may have been present in the Nether.

  When Folkvar was finished, the barbarian mumbled a thanks, but it sounded genuine. Her plan had worked a little; the barbarian had let Folkvar dress his wounds and had even checked himself in conversation.

  As they galloped through a meadow, Clare noticed something in the sky pulsing with a white light. It was a star. The light erupted soundlessly and spread over the sky in little twinkles, showering her vision with stardust.

  “How beautiful,” she whispered.

  “But sad,” Folkvar said. “That star has died. See where it was is only a black hole now.”

  All around the black hole, other stars began to pulse and two more exploded in shimmery starlight.

  “What is wrong with them?” Clare asked. “Will all the stars go out?”

  “The stars are becoming corrupt,” Folkvar explained gravely. “They cannot survive when they are so damaged, so they devolve into black holes in the sky, sometimes taking other stars with them. That is the Astral Plane. Not many beings from below that plane ever travel there. You must ascend through the Sky Plane and they are a frustrating lot.”

  “A falling star!” the barbarian suddenly shouted, pointing over Clare’s head. “It fell among the mountains.”

  “Go!” Clare urged Folkvar suddenly. “I bet we can save it!”

  The norcan raced as fast as his strong legs would carry them over the prairie and up the first mountain slope. Panting hard, he pushed on to climb the peak of the little mountain and stopped to let his riders off.

  “We are indeed far from the norcan if a star has fallen here,” he gasped between breaths. “Never have I seen one.”

  “Only once have my brothers and I seen one,” the barbarian said. “It had fallen, but was dead before it landed. It had run from a black hole, trying to save itself. But it was too weak to make the journey between the planes.”

  Clare scanned the area. Her barbarian companion was right; among the mountain peaks were green valleys with rivers and hills. Her eyes followed a path of shimmering ice up to a single tree in the mountain grass. There was a deep crater with cracked and scorched earth around it. In the center was a person glowing white, lying as though asleep. Around her head was a crown of starlight.

  The group ran cautiously to the crash site. To Clare’s great relief, the star sat up and put her hands to her head and moaned. She was alive! When she had shaken her head, she turned quickly back to the sky and reached her hand out as if to pull someone to her.

  “My mother,” she cried and crystal tears fell down her face.

  Clare and the other two reached her and before they could speak, the star ran into the arms of the barbarian and wept, hugging him close.

  “Save my mother and my sisters!” she cried. “My brothers have died and I just escaped their doom.”

  “I saw the pulsing star,” Clare said. She took her cloak off and wrapped it around the shivering star. “Was that your brother?”

  “Yes,” the star wiped her tears and stood up straight. “He had been corrupted by the whispers of Umbra. He collapsed in on himself and his death nearly drew us all in. I should have stayed with my sisters, but my mother told me to find the oracle—the only one who knows the truth about the earthlings— and ask for its advice. She made me leave for an earthling!”

  “Hey, that’s what we’re doing,” Clare piped up, excited. “I’m so sorry about your family though. Are they all gone?”

  The star turned her blue eyes to the sky. “What stars are not corrupted now will only be devoured by Greylheim when the time comes. Umbra will see to it!”

  “The dragon will eat the stars?” the barbarian gasped. “I’ve heard this legend.”

  “And my great mother!” the star cried, pointing to the huge crescent moon. “He has said if we do not listen to him, he will bleed her and we all will be devoured by Greylheim.”

  Clare grimaced at the fate of the stars. If this world was in need of a hero, she could see it now more clearly than before.

  “Maybe that’s why I’m here,” she thought. “Someone must have called me to help.”

  “I do not know who can summon earthlings. Let us depart from here,” Folkvar suggested. “Many will come to find the star and some we do not want to meet.”

  All three fit onto his strong back since the star was nearly weightless. She sat between Clare and the barbarian, who wrapped his hands protectively around her waist.

  After a bit of travel, they stopped to rest for a few hours. They reached the edge of the desert at dawn on the other side of the mountains and didn’t stop for fear of being out in the sands during the hottest part of the day. In front of them was a vast open range of bright orange sand. Hills and hills of nothing but sand.

  “Where do we even start?” Clare wondered.

  “This is hopeless,” the barbarian sighed. “My people have been searching for this oracle for generations and never have we found it.”

  “It is not yours to find,” the star said. “Its sacred power is beyond our imaginings. I came now because the one who can find it is among us on this world now. Fear not, my strong friend, we will find it.”

  Folkvar sighed and began to trek across the ocean of orange sand. “I pray I have not left my people for nothing. I am a traitor among them now.”

  The thought hadn’t occurred to Clare. She hadn’t considered what she had asked the norcan to do when she asked to be set free.

  “Are you a star?” the star asked coyly of Clare as they trudged across the soft sand.

  “No,” she replied quickly. “Why?”

  The star smiled and shrugged. “You just seem like one. You don’t quite fit the ranger attitude.”

  “Do you know any rangers?” she asked.

  “No, but I know you’re not one. I’m a star. I see a lot of things humans do. They think they are one thing, but really, they’re another. It takes some a lifetime to see it.”

  Clare decided now was as a good a time as any to ask a few questions someone in the sky may know.

  “Do you have myths and stories about earthlings and Umbra in the Astral Plane?”

  The star frowned thoughtfully. “Umbra is very real to us. As are the earthlings, but I’ve only seen one. Their quest failed. There was a sacrifice made and Umbra was sent into a strange door that reflected this world. Only recently has Umbra been awake again.”

  “Hmm,” Clare thought. Had her entrance into this world awakened the darkness?

  The sun was entirely up w
hen the ground suddenly began to tremble. The tremors started farther away, but then rumbled closer until Folkvar felt something huge swim underneath his hooves. He lost his balance and swayed, knocking the riders off. The barbarian leapt to his feet and drew his sword. Folkvar passed Clare his shorter blade and they all made a protective ring around the star.

  “Sand beasts, no doubt,” Folkvar growled, scanning the sands. “They swim through sand like fish in the sea. Keep walking!”

  Just behind them, a fountain of sand erupted to the sky, blinding them with hot grit. In the midst of the spout was a long creature covered in a brown exoskeleton with a stinger on its tail. It had hundreds of long, spindly legs and the two nearest its head were armed with thin pincers.

  Clare had to scream. She didn’t want to, but the thing was like a giant scorpion-centipede with pincers! She clutched the sword Folkvar had given her and stood back to back with the barbarian and his bigger sword.

  The creature, which Clare was going to call a sandpede, dove headfirst into the sand and went under like a diver into water. The sand bubbled up ferociously as the sandpede advanced toward them rapidly. They backed up a few steps then the barbarian lunged forward and thrust his sword down. Brown goo bubbled up from the sand along with the shriek of the creature. It lurched under the sand then arched its long neck up, taking the barbarian with it!

  Clare leapt up onto Folkvar’s back with the star and dashed a few yards away while her companion did battle on the head.

  He grasped the spines, no doubt just hairs to the beast, and plunged his sword down a second time only to be deflected by the strong exoskeleton. The sandpede shook its head, tired of the pest on it.

  “Hold on, Galis!” Clare called, finally naming her new friend.

  Galis was forced to drop his sword and use both hands to hold on while the sandpede bucked and dove to the earth again. As it burrowed into the ground again, Galis was forced to run along its insect spine and off the back, leaping over the stinger as it swiped at him before entering the sand as well. But just as the tail went under, the head appeared behind him with a high-pitched scream. Sprinting to pick up his sword, Galis charged the beast, leapt higher, and swung his sword across the beast’s underbelly. It screamed again. He took hold of the shell before he began his descent and swung onto its back again.