The Forgotten Tribe

by Stephen J Wolf

  Gabrion saw her fall and he remembered the sensation he’d had at the castle when she had caused him to imagine it. This was worse, for in his heart it was entirely too real. He rose up from Ordren’s corpse and sprinted to her, reaching down and calling her name.

  “Gemmetodariak,” she gasped in a rattled voice.

  Gabrion didn’t argue, for the mage had the healing jade. He looked around and didn’t know where he was, so he hefted Kitalla up in his arms and hurried to the last place he remembered seeing his black-haired friend. Kitalla’s breathing was ragged; he didn’t have much time.

  Chapter 43

  The Mage’s Plight

  Dariak was one of the few mages left on the field; all the healers had been attacked as primary targets and most had perished or fled the battle. He pulled one set of spell components from his pockets after another. The terrible boulders rained down intermittently and the whole scene felt like a sad, lost cause.

  King Prethos was covered in scrapes but he fought with all his heart. Dariak admired the way he deftly cut through the defenses of the Kallisorian fighters and subdued them without killing them, keeping to his word.

  Then Ordren appeared and Prethos was hard-pressed to defend himself. The king used a small amount of magic for a protection spell and a water spell that muddied the area. Dariak turned his energies on protecting the Hathren king, sending his fire darts at Ordren to distract him, but they had seemingly no effect.

  Instead, Dariak called to the powers of the earth and he dug a quick chasm with his hands. It had worked better in the sand outside Castle Hathreneir; however, Ordren stumbled and missed his attack, allowing Prethos to strike instead. Dariak rose up, reaching for the nature powers, coercing the grass to become sharp blades to pierce through Ordren’s boots. His arms swept up like sharp spikes and as he glanced skyward, he realized he had forgotten something.

  The incoming boulder was too close for him to do anything about. His vision filled with the incoming stone and quick images of his life snapped before his eyes, one of them Ordren sweeping his sword clean through Prethos’ neck and killing him. And then the boulder smashed Dariak into the ground and all he saw was darkness.

  His body ached from the impact and he didn’t know how he was breathing. More than that, he didn’t know how he was alive. He lay there for a few minutes wondering if he was really there, or maybe it was one of those moments where the soul refused to believe he was dead so it lingered in his body. But he felt pain. He felt himself breathing, and surely a soul wouldn’t. There was a searing heat around his waist and at first he thought his body must have been severed in half.

  Then he remembered the jades. In times of crisis the jades had risen up and protected the companions. Here, they had again, though no single jade had the power to help him alone. He felt for the energies pulsating through him and he sensed the earth, air, nature, and healing jades working in unison to keep him safe.

  He tried to move his hands and found it difficult. Pushing his thoughts to the earth and nature jades, he implored them to help, but they were weakened after the exertion. He sent his thoughts along to the beast and lightning jades, wondering if they could share their powers with the others so he could escape this stony prison and return to the battlefield. He allowed the energies to flow through his body and into the other jades, and little by little he was able to claw his way to the surface, not unlike a man buried alive.

  He emerged from the topsoil and saw a stricken Randler crouched nearby at the boulder. The bard had made his way to Dariak’s side and waited there, fearing the worst, unable to do anything else. They hugged briefly and Randler strained to pull himself together.

  “How long was I out?” It was a needless question as the sky was dark overhead.

  “Prethos is dead. Ordren too. Kallion was down but he’s already up rallying his troops for another strike tomorrow. Our forces regrouped over here in the interim.” His face was pale. “Dariak, it’s Kitalla. You have to come.”

  They hurried to the nearest tent where Kitalla lay on a blanket, a frantic mage scrambing to heal her wound. “It’s too deep!” the mage exclaimed, sweat streaming down her face.

  Dariak leaned over and examined the damage, wincing at the depth of the cut. Gabrion held Kitalla tightly, not willing to let her go. Dariak reached for the exhausted healing jade and set it on her shoulder. Closing his eyes, he tapped the jade for its power, calling to the other shards for their assistance as well.

  As he worked, Randler asked Gabrion, “Where are Ruhk and Verna?”

  “No idea,” the warrior responded absently. “They went after the catapult.”

  “They must have had success,” Randler noted, “because the boulders have stopped. But they didn’t return with the call for retreat.”

  Kitalla moaned and pushed her eyes open. “Save the jades, Dariak,” she gasped.

  “Not at the expense of you,” he snapped. He focused his thoughts inward and called for the other jades to respond. In particular, the metal and fire jades reacted, sending cold and heat through Dariak’s body and into the healing jade. A warm white light emanated from the shard and the wound in Kitalla’s shoulder started to seal itself.

  When metal and fire were drained, Dariak drew upon the rest. Water, shadow, and glass were next, each offering what power they could. The shards all went cold and dim, though they were not as still as they had been after Frast had united them. Nonetheless, Dariak could draw no more energy from them.

  Kitalla’s face was creased in pain and the wound was still not fully closed. The healer resumed her work, trying to alleviate the agony and to help the gash to close, but it would take the work of too many healers to succeed quickly.

  “That was foolish,” she accused.

  “Keeping you alive?” Dariak asked. “You’re probably right.”

  “Wasting the jades on me,” she corrected. “Kallion will rise up and you will need them to stop him.”

  “No,” he argued. “You’re a bigger threat.”

  Kitalla coughed quietly and then drew a few deep breaths to steady herself while the healer continued her chanting. “You know, it’s strange.”

  “What’s that?” Dariak asked.

  She spoke slowly, gasping here and there. “I’m lying here in all this pain, having come so close to death, and all I’m thinking about is that stupid book.”

  “Which one?” Randler asked.

  “That one you wanted.”

  “The drawings by Lady Cathrateir?”

  “The same. That one set of drawings that confused me. You remember?”

  Randler nodded and explained. “You said the sky was full of light and then all the lights slowly went out and then there was darkness. But it wasn’t very clear what was meant by it.”

  “The silver and gold skeins…,” she recalled. “Then the colored light, with the silver and gold still lingering around. The other colors fading away and then yes, there was darkness.” She turned her gaze to Dariak. “I think… I think those colors are the jades.”

  Gabrion stroked her head. “You’re delirious.”

  “No,” she gasped, fighting against the pain and exhaustion as they swelled upon her. They could see she was struggling to speak and they begged her to rest. “No,” she repeated. “The jades. They’re the colored light.”

  “All right,” Dariak said, trying to make sense of her tired ramblings. “What about them?”

  “They faded away, one by one. Your jades. Now. Faded away.” Her breathing was labored and she struggled to push the words out.

  “It could… be connected,” Dariak said, his concern for her clouding his thoughts.

  Kitalla took a few breaths, her voice fading to a whisper. “The silver and gold. Randler. The Forgotten Tribe.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Those tales were of the Forgotten Tribe, and those threads represented Lady Hathreneir and King Kallisor.”

  “They drew… in… the colors,” she breathed. “Then, darkness.”
r />   “Yes, but so?”

  “The Forgot—” she started, then she passed out.

  The team lingered for a short time, keeping silent vigil and then they left Kitalla to rest. They convened in the tent set aside for Prethos and there the king’s commanders bowed their heads to the companions in homage.

  “Our king was lost this day,” one said. “It was his wish that we turn to your leadership should anything happen to him on the field.”

  “Thank you,” Gabrion stepped up. “For now, secure the perimeter and keep a watch for Kallisorian forces. We don’t wish to be surprised in the night.”

  “Yes, sir.” With that, the commanders left.

  Randler sank into a small chair, rubbing his aching legs. “I don’t understand. What was Kitalla going on about?”

  Dariak dropped to the ground. “I have no idea. There’s been something going on with her for a while now. I haven’t been able to put my finger on it.”

  Randler’s brow creased in concern. “It’ll come to you, I’m sure. Listen, we’ve been inundated with all the lore from your father’s library and now we’re in the heart of the war.”

  “My father’s library,” Dariak echoed. His mind ached, knowing something was barely out of reach, but he couldn’t bridge the distance.

  Instead, he methodically pulled the jades from their pockets and set them down. “Now I’m back to where we were at the castle. The jades are almost completely empty and I can’t hear them anymore. There’s no way I’ll be able to unite them tomorrow if I need to.”

  “Do you think the fighting will continue for long?” Gabrion asked. “We both lost people.”

  “And we weren’t supposed to lose anyone,” Dariak lamented. “Yet from what I’ve seen, I think Kallion will push until there’s nothing left, one way or the other.” He rubbed the sides of his head. “How many fighters do we have remaining?”

  Gabrion groaned. “From the original count, about two hundred swords and three mages.”

  Dariak swallowed. “We lost more than half of our forces.”

  “And they did not,” Randler said. “Because we’re keeping them alive.”

  “We’ll be slaughtered tomorrow.” Dariak closed his eyes, reaching his hands over the jades, wondering what he should do. Uniting the jades at full strength was sure to kill him. How would bringing them together in this condition affect him? He assumed they would have to draw more energy from him in the process and that would burn him all the faster. The weight of it sat heavily upon him.

  Gabrion saw the sour expression on Dariak’s face and pity on Randler’s. He understood the implications of the jades, but the sadness was too disheartening, so he stood up and stretched. “I’m exhausted,” he announced, a silly grin working its way to his face.

  “I don’t think I’ll get any sleep tonight,” Dariak said.

  “You know,” Gabrion added, “so I thought I’d… you know…” He pulled off his tunic and tossed it to the floor. “…get ready for bed.” With that, he dropped his breeches and stretched again, showing off his entire body to the other two.

  Despite his sorrow, Dariak belted out a laugh, recalling a time long, long ago when he had propped himself up on a cot to watch Gabrion’s unintended nightly show, and the conversation they had had about it. Their friendship had grown after that, and though they had been through many tragic events, they still clung together. Dariak walked over and wrapped his arms around the big warrior, who returned the embrace with all sincerity.

  Gabrion dressed himself again and the three spent the night trying to decipher Kitalla’s ramblings, but when they made no progress, their chat turned to happier times along their journey.

  “You as the bumbling merchant in Warringer, when Kitalla threw all those daggers at you,” Dariak recalled.

  Gabrion added, “Kitalla, completely duping me, dressed in rags and pretending to be a lost soul on the road.”

  “Randler, giving us songs all along the way, honoring those who’ve left us or urging us on toward our goals.”

  The bard smiled. “Dinner with my lovely mother.”

  Dariak laughed, “And the smell of burned hair!”

  “You did overpower her, didn’t you?”

  He sobered for a moment, “Thanks to the jades. They’ve been there for us all along the way.”

  “And they will help us see this through, too,” Gabrion offered. “We’re ready to change this land and to bring the people together. We’ve all had our hardships and our trials along the way. It’s time now.”

  Dariak looked at the two of them intently. “Will you three stay together once we’re done here?”

  “Dariak…” Randler started.

  “No, Randler, there’s no point denying it. When I bring the jades together, I’m going to die.” A knot tightened in his stomach as he said the words aloud. “We all know it.”

  “Don’t give up like that,” Gabrion chimed in.

  “I’m not. It isn’t as if I want to give up my life to save this land. Yet, in some way, I know it’s the cost of my quest and all the experiences I’ve had. If my sacrifice truly saves us, then I’m ready.”

  “I’m with you, Dariak, until the very end,” Randler affirmed.

  “As am I, regardless of what happens.”

  “You have to be there for Perrios,” Dariak reminded him. “He will need your guidance, especially now that his father is gone.”

  “And his mother,” Gabrion pointed out. “I may not be the best role model for the boy.” He looked at Randler. “But I told his grandmother that you would be recording our tale at length and that she should share it with him when he is able to understand it.”

  Randler shivered. “It feels like we’re all saying good-bye. I don’t like it.”

  “Should I disrobe again?” Gabrion asked.

  “Yes,” Dariak grinned. “In fact, when we head out tomorrow, let’s all show up naked.”

  “That’ll scare the wits out of them,” Gabrion laughed.

  They joked around a while longer until a page tapped on the tent flap and tensions mounted instantly. The young man bowed his way inside and stammered, “S—sorry to interrupt, but—”

  Gabrion’s voice took an edge of authority. “Speak. Have we been infiltrated?”

  “In a m—manner of speaking,” he shook. “There is someone here to speak with you.”

  “Show him in,” Gabrion commanded.

  Dariak quickly tucked the jades away and the three companions shifted around and stood together. The tent flap opened and Dariak’s jaw fell to the floor. A dark-skinned old man walked inside and took stock of the surroundings. He nodded to each of them and then took a seat.

  “Astrith! What are you doing here?” Dariak asked.

  The keeper of the forest cleared his throat and took a sip from a water flask he kept on his hip. “I told you, Dariak, that we are connected to the energies of this land. We felt the deep sadness that occurred when your friend gave his life as he brought the jades together. It was more painful than when your father ripped a hole through the energies. I know your intention and I am aware that the pain will come again.”

  “So you wanted to be here for it?”

  “No, but the others of the forest fear the effects the jades will have when they are brought together.”

  “You… came to stop me?” Dariak hedged.

  “No,” Astrith breathed. “There are some in our coven who believe that we can make the process unnecessary if we assist the tumult here. There are others yet who feel we have the power to block the effects of the jades from further ravaging our land.”

  “From here?” Randler asked.

  “Indeed. Much like a pile of stones may deflect a river. Setting up defenses here could redirect the energy elsewhere.”

  “You don’t sound convinced,” Gabrion noticed.

  “I have not met you, young warrior, but you read me correctly. You see, when the jades have been united, they have stolen great energy from the land. The ev
er-spreading desert is but one effect. The warmer winters we have recently had is another. Greater varieties of feral creatures, and so forth. I wonder what dangers we face with the jades up for two unifications so close together. I don’t believe we can redirect where the energies go, nor from where they are drained, but it is my custom to listen well to the words of my people. Thus, we are here.”

  “How many?” Gabrion ventured.

  “Fifteen, if you count me among the number.”

  “Oh,” he seemed disappointed.

  “The rest have remained in the forest to maintain it.”

  “We’re grateful for any help,” Dariak said sincerely. “What can we expect from your people?”

  “You can’t,” Astrith answered mysteriously. “Do whatever you feel you must. Forget we are even here. That will allow us to do whatever we can do, disconnected from the rest. That is our condition.”

  “We can try to stay out of your way,” Gabrion offered.

  “It will not be necessary.” He reached his hands out for Randler, placing his fingers on the supports he had sent for the bard. “This should help,” he muttered, as the vines and twigs shifted slightly and formed better to Randler’s body.

  The old man pushed himself upright. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will go see if I can add any support to your injured friend before turning in for the night.”

  “How do you know of Kitalla?” Gabrion asked.

  “You called upon the jades to heal her, did you not? They worked in unison to try to repair the damage, yes? We sensed that as well. We also know that it is not the first time you united the jades attempting to heal her.”

  Randler’s eyes opened wide. “You could feel that all the way from Pindington?”

  Astrith tipped his head. “Yes. And if you recall, once the jades had been used symbiotically, soon after, there was massive destruction.”