by Sam Ferguson
The Genverbonds would watch the flames until they each died out, thus witnessing the ultimate end of the symbol, as if witnessing the final death of those inside the graves. After the flames died, the ash was spread over the grave, signifying the loss the world had suffered. Then the Genverbonds were done, and free to return to their homes.
It was another day and a half journey back to Toelvug.
Kamal looked to the moon high in the sky and then to his brother. Even without telepathy, Weys knew what Kamal was thinking. Weys nodded and the two walked the required hundred yards away from the graves and pulled apples out of woven pouches they kept with them. They sat down and ate while all the other Genverbonds began the long journey back to Toelvug.
Weys finished his apple and then spread out beneath the stars. He was snoring in less than two minutes. Kamal stayed awake, staring up at the white stars and deep in thought. Eventually, as the mind often does, his thoughts circled around to the events of the day. He saw again the one Tarthun who had escaped. He wondered where that man was going to go. He was alone now. Surely there would be women and children back in the Tarthun village, wherever that was, but there were no more men of fighting age.
This was the battle to end all battles. The great struggle between the Tarthuns and the dwarves was at an end. The dwarves had won, and in so doing had ensured safety for the Krilo. Still, it was only a bittersweet victory. As a follower of Interis Aruhat, Kamal truly grieved the loss of so much life. He could not understand why the Tarthuns had not simply given up after the first few battles. Why continue fighting? Why resign yourself to death? What could possibly have driven them to such a position where they would rather die at the hands of the dwarves than simply coexist in the valley?
Surely the valley was large enough for both the Krilo and the Tarthuns. There was game to be had for those that ate meat. Mountain goats and fish were both so numerous that either could entirely feed all who lived in the area. That was to say nothing of the grains and bounties of the ground that the Krilo had cultivated in their time in the valley.
War was something Kamal would never understand. Taking things by force and marching off to send others to die for land made no sense to him.
Kamal closed his eyes and took in a breath. He held it for a few seconds and then released it slowly, as if expelling the negative thoughts from his body. He then channeled his focus and prayed to Interis Aruhat.
When he finished, the thought came to him to rejoice for the dwarves, and for his people. They could now live free from the Tarthuns. The sword would not have to come again to the valley.
Kamal smiled at this thought and then made himself comfortable in the grass. Just before sleep took him, he saw again the image of the lone Tarthun running off to the north.
What if that runner brought the sword back to their valley?
CHAPTER THREE
Halsten found himself on a grassy hilltop overlooking a large valley filled with waving grasses and brightly colored flowers. Deer lazed about, eating their fill and apparently unaware of Halsten’s presence as he watched them. The Varvarr prince held the bow his father had given him in his left hand and studied the animals. He had never seen so many in his life. There were easily several hundred in this one valley, and something told him that beyond the hills in the horizon, there were even more.
As he watched the animals, carefully considering how he would begin his hunt so as to ensure he killed enough deer to feed his tribe, he noticed a blue stream snaking its way through the grass. He watched the waters for a bit and the deer turned to drink, all gathering close together.
Halsten locked his eyes on a particularly large buck. The rack of antlers was bigger than anything he had ever heard of before. Once he had slain a twenty-point buck. His father had even told him that there was a buck in Feklyn Wood rumored to have thirty points, but this one had a full forty points, and none of them were small tines either. Each point was thick and strong, as if this was the lord of all the deer. Its eyes were large and brown, cautiously scanning the grass around while the others stooped low to drink from the stream. As it approached the waters, the other deer nearby shied away from it.
The Varvarr prince nocked an arrow and waited for the buck’s head to go down to the water. Once it began drinking, then he would strike.
The animal gave another glance around, its ears twitching back and forth. Then it put its black nose and mouth down to the water and began to drink.
Halsten pulled back on the string and took a steadying breath. He let the arrow fly and whispered a silent prayer to the Wolf Goddess Akuhn. The missile flew straight and true. The head pierced through the animal’s neck, just behind the skull. The buck jerked to the side and then snorted as it collapsed on the ground.
Halsten stood to admire his work, and almost forgot that he needed to slay as many as he could for his tribe. He quickly brought another arrow to the string and pulled back.
“What is this?” he whispered as he held the arrow still. The grasses in the valley grew taller and taller, obscuring his view of the deer. He let the second arrow fly at a line moving through the tall grass. The snort of a dying deer confirmed his aim had been true. Halsten nodded and nocked a third arrow. He was confident that he could build a sled to drag the carcasses back on if he took yet one more. His eyes scanned the ever-thickening grass for signs of movement. He let the third arrow fly. The shivering green grass erupted in a violent tremor as the third arrow found another animal.
His smile was short lived, however, for the third animal made a sound like that of a yelping wolf.
The grasses in the valley turned brown before his eyes and withered away as a harsh wind blew in from the north and swept the valley clean of all vegetation. The herd of deer disappeared along with the grass, leaving only three animals on the dusty ground. The forty-point buck was lying in a pool of blood near the water. A second deer was some twenty yards away from that point, and a gray wolf was dragging itself along on its front legs, with an arrow sticking out just in front of the left hind leg.
“Oh great and fearless Akuhn,” Halsten uttered as he saw what he had done. He rushed down from the hill, but took only three steps and then the valley floor rushed up to meet him, as if he stood still and the world turned by the power of his thoughts alone. He glanced around, a bit unsteady on his feet, but the sound of a snarling wolf demanded his attention.
“My brother, forgive me,” Halsten said. He stepped toward the wolf, but its upper lip curled back to reveal a set of fangs that nearly stopped Halsten’s heart. Its yellow, angry eyes narrowed on him. Its ears were flat upon the back of its head, and its front legs were tensed. “I meant you no harm,” Halsten said. “I didn’t see you in the grass. I was only hunting the deer! I would never hurt a brother.”
The wolf lunged forward powerfully and knocked Halsten on his back. The Varvarr prince scurried away on all fours as the wolf snapped at his leg. When he was far enough away for safety, Halsten turned back to the animal.
“I can help you,” he said.
“You have offended Akuhn,” the wolf replied.
Halsten sat motionless. Had the wolf spoken to him?
“You struck me with the bow of your father. Now the sin shall be repaid upon you and your kin.”
Halsten shook his head. “No, I didn’t know, I promise!” In that instant, a terrible snap rent his bow in twain. Halsten jumped up to his feet and from the east he saw a great wall of sand flying into the valley. Flames and lightning rushed along the stream, drying it before the sand.
“All shall be as ash for your sins,” the wolf said.
“No!” Halsten shouted. He turned to find the second deer he had slain rotting away before his very eyes. Crows and vultures dropped down and pulled apart what little meat was left. The Varvarr prince pulled his axe and ran toward them, but the birds had already scavenged the carcass, leaving only a few bones and a mess of bloody fur. Halsten then ran toward the large buck.
He was only a
few feet away when a great bolt of blue and black lightning shot down and obliterated it. A shockwave flew out from the point of impact and Halsten felt himself knocked up into the air. His ears were ringing and his lungs burned for breath as he flew higher and higher.
The wolf below snarled at him once more, and then the entire valley was swallowed by sand. Halsten was thrown back to the first hill and landed hard upon his back. He coughed and sputtered as he rolled to his side and looked down upon a valley now filled with brown sand. His mouth hung open and his eyes teared up.
“What have I done?” Halsten asked aloud.
Then, a bit of movement stirred on one of the wind-blown dunes. Halsten stared in wonder as the wolf wormed its way out of the sand part way. It turned and fell upon the sand. Halsten stood and was about to go to the wolf, but then strange figures with great wings came down from the sky and drove heavy spears into the wolf’s side. The animal whimpered in pain and its yellow eyes locked on Halsten for one last time.
“NO!” Halsten shouted. He reached for his axe, but found that it had been knocked away. He had no weapons to speak of. The dark forms turned toward him. He couldn’t make out their shapes clearly, other than their massive wings that measured at least five feet each.
“Akuhn is dead,” one of the forms said.
Then a flash of silver split the air and Halsten felt something rip through his chest. Fire burned his lungs and he staggered backward. The strength left his legs and he fell to his knees. The long shaft of a spear was protruding out from his front, and blood was pouring over his body.
“Akuhn!” Halsten said. His body fell backward.
When his head collided with the ground, Halsten’s eyes shot open and his body jerked upon his bed. He took in a deep breath and brushed a hand over his chest. There was no spear. More than that, he was home, lying in his bed with Agatha.
Halsten lay awake in his bed for some time, staring at the ceiling above. The open window allowed the cool night air to drift into the home, but it was of little comfort. The sound of crickets in the field and owls in the trees beyond the clearing were normally quite soothing for the large Varvarr, but not on this night. The things he had seen were too disturbing, too real, for him to close his eyes again.
He had to speak with his father.
Halsten gently lifted his wife’s hand and slipped out from her embrace. He slipped on a simple tunic over his hard chest and then moved to a wooden chair to fetch his trousers. He then turned for the door, but something told him to grab his belt and boots as well. He slipped his boots onto his feet and then fastened his belt, complete with his axe and skinning knife, around his waist. He moved quietly through the door without waking Agatha or Sarkis.
The air was crisp and cool, but not cold. The stars above shone down brightly and the moon gave more than enough light for him to find his way to his father’s home. Unlike Halsten’s house, Jarle’s house was made of stone and fashioned in a round shape with a conical roof over it made of clay tiles.
Beside the structure was a small shed made of wood. Behind the shed was a smokehouse where the tribe would preserve extra meat by smoking it. Of course, tonight there had been no extra meat. In fact, the deer and the boar had both been entirely consumed by the time Halsten and Agatha had finished their “discussion,” leaving only some vegetables and bits of grain for them to eat.
It had been some time since the smoke house had been used.
With the dream he had just witnessed, Halsten had to wonder if it would ever be used again.
He had nearly arrived at the door to his father’s home when it opened and Jarle stepped out into the moonlight. Both of them stopped and stared at each other. Jarle wore a thin jerkin over his torso and loose fiting trousers made for sleeping.
“Halsten, what has you up at this hour?”
Halsten pointed at his father. “I was going to ask the same thing.”
Jarle nodded his head and took in a deep breath. “I could not sleep. The water problems have become worse.”
Halsten nodded, knowing that his father was referring to an inability to sleep through the night without getting up to urinate many times. It was something that seemed to afflict the older men in the tribe, but it didn’t explain why Jarle had come outside. There was a bucket inside the house for such needs.
“I need to speak with you,” Halsten said.
Jarle reached up and ran a hand through his snowy hair. “I see. What about?”
“A dream,” Halsten said.
Jarle took in another breath and then turned to the side and held his hand out to Halsten. “Still finding monsters in the dark, are we? Well, come on in, boy, come in.” Halsten went into the small house and the two moved to the center and sat on the outside of a small fire pit. Jarle laced his fingers together and then set his hands in his lap. “So tell me about this dream of yours,” he said.
Halsten nodded, but for some reason he hesitated. He glanced to the ashes in the center of the fire pit and then furrowed his brow. It had been a long time since he had spoken with his father about dreams, since before his seventeenth birthday, in fact. Now he felt foolish for keeping the old man awake in the middle of the night.
“Well go on,” Jarle said. “I don’t often allow midnight audiences.”
The Varvarr prince nodded and then stumbled through telling his father all that he had seen. He started with the grassy hill he was sitting upon and then described the valley full of deer. He had worried that is father wouldn’t take him seriously, or would chide him for being so foolish as to allow a dream to startle him, but his father grew more somber with each word Halsten spoke.
“Be specific,” Jarle said. “Tell me the number of the deer you counted, and the exact height of the grass. Was there a stream?”
Halsten blinked a couple times, and then he did as his father instructed him. He relayed every detail exactly as he had seen it. He was able to recall the dream with amazing clarity and accuracy. When he finished, Jarle pursed his lips and moaned as he looked down to the dead ashes in the fire.
“What does it mean?” Halsten asked. “I have done nothing that should offend the Wolf Goddess. Why would she send such a dream to me? And what are the winged demons that slew the wolf?”
Jarle held up a hand. “I may have an answer for some of it, but not all,” he said.
“Which part?” Halsten pressed.
“Quiet, I need you to listen to me now.” Jarle’s lower lip quivered, something that Halsten had never seen before. The old man cleared his throat and closed his eyes. “The wolf said you had struck it with my bow, then the blame rests with me.”
“The blame for what?” Halsten asked.
“How many points did you say the buck near the stream had on its rack?”
“Forty,” Halsten replied quickly.
Jarle nodded his head and his eyes opened. “Exactly forty years ago, from this very day, I led our tribe out from the Sacred Valley of Akuhn.”
“And you think the Wolf Goddess is angry with us for that?”
Jarle’s eyes narrowed and a knot formed between his white brows. “Be silent. What I tell you, you must listen to carefully. For if Akuhn is angry, then I fear it may already be too late to make amends for the offense.”
Halsten sat back and closed his mouth. What could his father have done that was so bad? Whatever it was, could it be the possible reason for the game disappearing?
“When we first arrived here, the game was more than plenty to feed ten tribes. The forest yielded in abundance. We benefitted greatly from it. We made our home here, and did not travel to follow the herds anymore like our cousin tribes still do to this day. However, on the first anniversary of settling here, I had a dream similar to yours,” Jarle said.
Halsten balked.
“Oh yes, I have seen the valley you have seen. Only, when I first saw the dream, the large deer had only a single spike upon its head.” Jarle wriggled his nose and shifted in his spot. I never saw the winged forms
that you speak of though. Nor did I see the wolf. Instead, I saw behind me a large shrine, the Temple of Akuhn, and before me the vast and lush valley teeming with deer. I hunted in the valley and brought home a great bounty for our tribe. But I was missing the message.
“The next year, on the same night, I had the dream again. Everything was the same. I sat upon the hill and saw a vast herd of deer. I saw the large buck again, except this time he had two points upon his head. I hunted again. Each year, upon the anniversary of settling here, I had the same dream. Each time, I would watch the large buck go to the stream and drink, and then I would hunt. You see, I thought it was a sign from Akuhn that all was well, that we were to be blessed. I failed to realize until some many years later that the sacred Temple of Akuhn, which had started out as a bright and great shrine fit for the Wolf Goddess, was slowly fading. Each year it stood a few feet farther away from me on the hill. Vines and dust began to mar and obscure the face of the stone that had once sparkled in the light.
“But by the time I noticed what was happening to the shrine, your mother was pregnant with you inside her belly. I dared not move the tribe back to the Sacred Valley of Akuhn, for your mother was having a most difficult time. She spent many days upon her bed. When she wasn’t lying down, she was usually vomiting.” Jarle reached up and wiped the tears from his face.
Halsten averted his eyes to allow his father to retain his honor. It was not acceptable for a Varvarr chief to cry. Jarle would be the first to say so himself, but even as hard and strong as he was, there was nothing that kept the tears away when he spoke of Halsten’s mother.
At last, Jarle cleared his throat. “When you came into the world, I lost your mother,” Jarle said. “She was a great warrior, a fierce lover, and a loyal friend. When I lost her, I blamed Akuhn. The dreams came each year, but I refused to heed them. Tonight was the first anniversary that the dream did not come.”