The Forgotten Tribe

by Stephen J Wolf

“Yet, if the jades hadn’t been draining me at all, then the illusions would have allowed us to take over this place without losing Carrus in the process!” Her fists clenched and she saw the truth in Dariak’s face. Furious, she grabbed the nearest jade from the table and smashed it to the floor.

  Dariak waited as she vented her anger, throwing the unbreakable jades around senselessly, her chest heaving from the exertion. Eventually, she crouched down to the ground and clutched her head in sorrow. “Easy now,” he said softly.

  “My dance skill could have saved us. Instead, it went to the jades, but they weren’t strong enough to save us. Not all of us.” She sniffled, then pounded her fists on the ground. “No more of this!” she shouted. “I won’t stand for this anymore!”

  “What do you mean?” he asked hesitantly.

  She shoved him aside and darted around the room, gathering up the jades and slamming them on the table in a heap. “I won’t lose anyone else,” she proclaimed. Dariak approached her but she spun around and shoved him to the stone floor. She then faced the jades and danced.

  At first her steps were forcibly calm, and she struggled to maintain an easy pace. Her arms lilted up and around, while her hips twisted softly to the side. In her mind, she battled the rage in her heart, forcing the calmness to permeate her body. Two steps to the left, three to the right, bowing low, bringing her arms high, she continued to dance pouring out images of serene landscapes and fluttering butterflies, with mild clouds wafting ever so slightly across the sky.

  “Kitalla, stop!” Dariak called uselessly as he rubbed his side and peeled himself from the floor. Hobbling up to his feet, he made his way over to her, feeling the energy gushing from within her. He reached out to grab her and was thrown again to the ground by her strong hands.

  Kitalla’s legs kicked up and back, then she spun, her movements gaining speed. Sweat beaded on her brow but she didn’t care. The jades had stolen her chance to protect Carrus. What did her pain matter anymore?

  From the ground, Dariak reached into his pockets and pulled forth a short twig. He muttered the words of a protection spell and then managed to find his footing again. He charged forward, tackling Kitalla and digging the edge of the twig into her skin, cutting her mildly. Angrily, she pushed him away and he banged his head on the wall, losing himself to furious sparks running across his vision. It didn’t matter, however, for he had enacted his spell.

  The protection magic redirected the energy exuding from Kitalla. It turned the errant forces back around and away from the jades that were thirstily drinking them. Even across the way, Dariak could sense the flow of Kitalla’s strength absorbing into the shards and reigniting them. But now he had intervened and disrupted the energy, and Kitalla lost her focus and took a misstep, twisting her mangled foot and stumbling.

  “No!” she howled. “You can’t do this, Dariak! Leave me be! Let me empower them and then go, go finish your quest and leave me out of it!”

  He dragged his body across the floor and took her in his arms, despite her protests. “I will not let you throw your life away to this quest. Kitalla, you can’t do this. It isn’t what anyone wants. It isn’t what Carrus would want. Like all of us, he fought for what he believed in.”

  “But he’s dead!”

  “We’ll all be dead someday. But think about how you want to die, Kitalla. Is this the real you? Weeping and weak? Throwing your life away? To magic, of all things?” He turned her around and bore into her eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

  “I’ve lost everyone, Dariak. My father, mother, Joral, Gabrion, Carrus, my unborn child. Everyone. Poltor has dismissed me, even crazy Heria is gone. We’ll finish this quest, perhaps, but then what? What’s left for me, Dariak? I wither away? Do I become like old Klerra in Gabrion’s hometown, rambling and telling stupid stories?”

  “You don’t have to,” he replied. “You can start anew. Find a new purpose.”

  “Nonsense!” she shouted.

  He shoved her hard. “And what do you think I’m going to do? All my life, I’ve been on this quest, from the moment my father died when I was just two years old. Everything has been about this coming moment. What do you think I’m going to do when it’s done?”

  Her chin sank low and then she shook her head sadly. “It’s not quite the same thing, Dariak.”

  “How not?”

  She lifted her gaze and he saw an intense pain in her eyes that was even worse than what he had seen so far. “Your father united the jades, and he died. Frast united them. He died.” Her voice was level and calm and irksome. “How will your attempt end differently?”

  Chills ran down his spine, for he knew she was right. He couldn’t answer.

  “I thought so,” she muttered after a time. “Someone else I will lose.” She cleared her throat. “So don’t lecture me about starting over. Agreed?”

  He swallowed hard. “Agreed.”

  Kitalla stared at him for a moment, her mind racing, wondering if she should talk to him about her unborn child and her connection to the Forgotten Tribe. But Dariak would ask a hundred questions and she couldn’t deal with it then. Instead, she grasped his hand briefly, squeezing it supportively, then letting go. “Come on,” she said, rising up and pulling him to his feet. “There has to be some mead or wine here, don’t you think?”

  He threw his arm around her and sighed. “There’d better be.”

  Chapter 36

  Reconstruction of

  Marritosh

  Lica approached the desolate town of Marritosh, which had burned to the ground at old Herchig’s command so the companions could escape the wrath of the Hathren king’s forces. Not all of the villagers had managed to escape the fires, Herchig included, and the entire area reeked of death and decay.

  She had approached from the southwestern edge of the dead town, having come from Magehaven. Roughly two dozen mages had joined her quest once the chaos had settled there and Rothra had assumed proper control of the tower. These mages were at her command and they had already shown her some loyalty by stepping from their home and following her, and also in protecting her from the feral creatures on the way.

  She still wasn’t accustomed to having so many mages around her. Her time in Kallisor’s Underground had been enlightening, but only in some places did the mages practice their skills openly. She had been part of the eastern sect, which kept relatively quiet, practicing only on a forced schedule, so that no wild flux of energy would ever be noticed by the people above the land.

  Yet the mages from the tower employed their skills constantly, and she found it difficult at times to accept without cautioning them to still their efforts. Along the way, though, she plied her craft more and more, delighting in the freedom.

  Lica knew it was silly. Most of her journey with Dariak had taken place in Hathreneir and she had been allowed her magic at all times. She chuckled; she wasn’t making any sense.

  The mages passed by the broken buildings as they made their way through the ruins to the northern edge of the village. It was where Herchig’s home had been, and she understood Ervinor enough to realize he would start there. As they approached, she could feel a powerful pull of energies, and it caused her to feel dizzy. Staggering, slightly, she called for her group to press onward.

  Lica had seen the Hathren mages combine their efforts to great spells, including the one that had repaired Randler’s legs. What she saw before her made those other efforts seem meager by comparison and part of her wanted to abandon her current task and join them.

  Six earth mages stood in a circle around a small hut, their footfalls striking the ground heavily in a unified dance. Their arms struck upward, then downward, and they repeated those motions without losing their stride, their voices rumbling in a hearty cadence. Air and water mages worked with other earth mages, crafting bricks from the fallen stones. Each old stone was crushed and then mixed into an amalgam that was refashioned into new bricks, which fire mages blasted and cured. Nature mages drew impurities out
of the soil used to buttress the bricks, and they also strengthened the ropes needed to hoist the blocks higher and higher.

  Even working together in this fashion, the mages had only succeeded in restoring three of the old structures, though those were stronger now than ever before. The huts of wood were gone, now being replaced with the fortified stone. Lica felt the power of the six earth mages along the circumference and she sensed that their efforts were necessary to keep the energies contained within their circle as the others worked. They acted as a virtual wall, turning the energies aside and back to the others within so they could continuously draw upon them.

  There was no sign of them stopping and Lica was unsure what to do. She could sense a similar longing among the mages with her and she nodded her head, giving them leeway to join the mass casting. The working mages welcomed the help without question and with the doubled number of mages, the pace increased.

  Lica marveled for a time, then broke herself away, walking around the circle and seeking out Ervinor, who wasn’t hard to find.

  It hadn’t been terribly long since they had last seen each other, but Ervinor’s face lit up when he saw her, and he ran forward, throwing his arm around her in welcome. His clothes were firmly wrapped around his body and he was marred with dirt and scrapes, all drenched in sweat. “Lica, whatever are you doing here?” he asked merrily.

  “Well, in a sense, I came to see you,” she smiled. “No one expected you to remain in Hathreneir.”

  He shrugged. “I have an obligation here.”

  She nodded. “I understand. Herchig’s sacrifice won’t ever be forgotten.”

  “That’s the goal,” he admitted. “In fact, we have one metal mage here who’s been helping me create plaques to post around the completed buildings, detailing the efforts of those who have fallen. I want this whole town to come back to life, but never to forget the trials it endured.”

  “You’ve made some great progress already,” she said.

  “It’s much slower than it should be, honestly. The mages are fantastic, but they’re not physical laborers. It takes much longer to create these buildings without sweat and muscle. But I’m not complaining; they’re all taking this project on with such personal pride and effort, it’s like Herchig is here guiding us all. We’re just doing what needs to be done, plain and simple.”

  “It’s an admirable task. I’ll be honest,” she added with a grin, “there’s a part of me that wants to throw myself into the mix and help.”

  “You’d be a huge asset!”

  Lica laughed. “You just want me to help with the cooking.”

  “That too!” he chortled. “But really, you’ve got great finesse with earth magic, and you’d really help the rest of them come together.” He smiled. “Before we arranged the mages around the periphery, the whole land would shake and knock over anything we set up. Trying to secure it all before the walls toppled was impractical, but Crenya had the idea of the energy barrier and since then it’s been a huge success. But it costs us those mages to maintain it.”

  “It seems to me those earth mages would be better suited to creating bricks than maintaining the wall.”

  “I agree, but we tried. No one else was able to stabilize the ground well enough for the buildings to stand. But you’re here now, Lica. You can help us!”

  She hated to deny him. “I’m sorry, Ervinor. I’m still on Dariak’s quest, you realize. I was gathering mages so we could help support him.”

  The young man’s face twitched. “I figured as much, and I do still support him. More than you may realize, actually. But Marritosh is my priority right now.”

  “I won’t ask you to give up any of your mages,” Lica assured.

  “Thank you.” He sounded genuinely relieved.

  “And,” she added, a small grin coming to her face as she considered, “I think we can even spare a few days to give you some help for now.”

  Ervinor’s face erupted with joy. “Lica! That would be terrific! I know exactly the project you can help me with!”

  “Oh?” she asked, puzzled. “Shouldn’t we continue the work you’re already doing out there?”

  He took her hand and pulled her inside Herchig’s restored house. Lica’s eyes widened at the detail he had put in to recreating the structure. She hadn’t spent much time there, but the old man’s wall of swords and his random trophy shelves were all in place. Clearly, that one metal mage at his disposal had done more than engrave some iron planks with history.

  Ervinor led her through the house and out into the back yard, which again boasted a tall fence to protect them within. Despite the ruinous state of the town, Ervinor had insisted upon the wall, for it reminded him of the countless hours he had spent with the rambling old man. The wall itself was already elaborately decorated with sheets of iron, detailing a number of anecdotes Herchig had shared with Ervinor, and on some of them, the young general had added his own interpretations and explanations of how the advice had helped him on his journey.

  “It’s incredible, Ervinor.”

  “This is just the beginning. At first, I was keeping a journal while we were traveling. Nothing grand or anything; some comments here and there about what we were doing. Once I lost my arm, I couldn’t write any of it down anymore, and I was afraid it was all going to be lost. Then, talking to Herchig, I realized how important it was to record these stories, so I learned to write again with my left hand. It hasn’t been easy and I was keeping it secret around the others because it seemed silly.”

  “No one would have thought that,” she said, “Randler in particular.”

  “Maybe,” he shrugged. “Anyway, Siella has been helping me to transfer my notes onto these plaques, and we’ve been working together to create more and more of them. Soon, I want the whole tale recorded.”

  Lica chuckled, “You’ll run out of wall space before too long. A lot has happened, even before you and I joined the quest.”

  “I know,” he grinned, his eyes dancing.

  “What is it you’re not telling me?”

  He guided her over to a table in the corner of the yard. Upon its surface rested a wood-carved structure that she had dismissed as a pile of scrap wood blocks. Looking more closely, she gasped.

  “Is that why you’re rebuilding this place from magic-fortified stone?”

  He smiled broadly. “It definitely is. I’m rebuilding this town, Lica, but I’m making it more than it was.”

  “King Prethos won’t be too happy about your plans.”

  Ervinor laughed. “He can still have his castle.”

  Lica shook her head and let out a low whistle, examining the wood structure again. “If I’m judging the scale right, that’s going to be enormous.”

  He nodded his head. “I told you, I’m still supporting Dariak’s quest. We have to get the basic structures in place here first so we can start building upward. This place,” he said, gesturing around, “will be part of the ground floor. Visitors will be able to come and pay their respects and learn about the struggles we’ve all endured trying to secure a true peace. And these plaques will be spread throughout. You’re right that this wall won’t hold all of them. But once this project is finished, there will be plenty of space.”

  Lica clapped his shoulder. “Some people would say when you lost your arm, part of your mind went with it. But not me, dear friend. I think this is one immense and worthwhile project.”

  “So you’ll help?”

  Lica gazed at the model again and scratched her head. “It’s going to be difficult to get the entire foundation to be secure. You’ve got the right idea of it, building up these smaller structures soundly, preparing to add more on top of them. But for it to all come together and not topple over, we have to do this part first…”

  Chapter 37

  Empowering the Jades

  The days following their arrival at the outpost were immensely busy. There were only ten of them, trying to set up defenses against the upcoming approaches of both kings an
d their forces, while also taking care of day-to-day concerns. The food stores were stocked well enough for the group of them, which alleviated the need to venture out hunting, but cooking and cleaning took time of their own.

  “Let’s go again,” Kitalla said.

  Dariak looked up from the floor, the eleven jades spread around him in a wide circle. Each day, he had communed with the shards, hoping to find a means of uniting them without sacrificing his own life, but they were silent. He wondered idly how his father ever learned anything from them.

  “I’m ready for another session,” Kitalla spoke again, as Dariak sat there immobile.

  At last he looked up and frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “You need them.”

  She was right, of course, but he hated to admit it. While they waited for the kings to arrive, Kitalla and Dariak worked intently, trying to restore the energy of the jades. Several times a day, Kitalla used her dance skills to produce the life-giving energy the jades thrived upon. Little by little, the shards’ strengths were being restored and Dariak could now channel them for small tasks. Yet the drain on Kitalla was starting to show. Her movements were not as graceful and her sleep was ragged, leaving deep marks under her eyes.

  She didn’t wait for him to answer, not that she had asked him permission in the first place. The thief started by drawing her hands together in front of her chest, then sliding them up over her head. As she separated her arms out to the sides in a delicate arc, she twirled her wrists about, fluttering like leaves. Dipping from the waist and swaying to her left, her arms swept upward gently as her right leg kicked out. She bounced into the air and landed softly, bending low with her back upright, her hands still spinning in the air.

  Sitting in the center of the jade circle, Dariak felt the energies rise up from Kitalla’s body and fill the air. The delicacy of her dance enticed him to lower his defenses against its effect so he could witness the scene she was projecting from her mind, for it seemed a truly graceful place. Around him, the jades pulsated hungrily, reaching for the floating energy.