kDira continued onward, but about halfway back to the village she realized she’d left her son far behind, and she might have lost him completely. She was torn between turning back to get him or continuing on to help save her village. She spent a brief moment considering the options and decided that the need to protect her village outweighed her need to protect her son. She made up her mind to continue on to the village. It was not a decision she enjoyed making, but once she had made it, she was not about to second-guess her instinct.
As she neared the village, she could hear the sounds of battle raging outside the walls. She hoped that Agis and the guard had managed to get the gates closed before the wolfpack entered Blackhorn. She approached the clearing and spotted Ari on the wall shooting arrows down into the attackers with pinpoint accuracy. kDira pulled her own bow down off her shoulder, nocked an arrow, sighted in on one of the wolfpack males and let fly. It penetrated the enemy warrior through the shoulder, and he dropped to the ground in an instant. Ari had seen where the arrow came from, and gave a quick wave to her friend, letting kDira know she saw the Queen Mother.
kDira nocked another arrow and was sighting in on another of the attackers when one of them turned and spotted her. He let out a cry in some unknown dialect and several more turned in her direction.
“Oh shoot. They are going to come after me,” she said to herself. She released her arrow and took down the one that had alerted the others, but more turned and began to rush towards kDira. She immediately nocked a third arrow as Ari and several others on the wall took out more of the attackers. kDira let her arrow fly, but three of the wolfpack males were on her before she could nock a fourth arrow. Two of them grabbed her as one came towards her with a club, probably looking to strike her unconscious. His arm went back, but before he could bring the club forward, an arrow pierced his eye. The club dropped to the ground, and the man fell to his knees. He reached for the arrow, but never got to the point of pulling the arrow out. He fell backward onto the ground. The arrow had come from behind kDira.
Ari sent an arrow down to take out one of the males holding kDira, and once again, another arrow came from behind to drop the other male. kDira looked to make sure there were no more wolfpack males. She turned around to see who was shooting from behind her and saw young Malak standing there, another arrow nocked on his bow, ready for another attack.
“It is okay, my son. You did well, they are all gone.”
Malak lowered his bow and released the tension of the string. He looked at his mother, who was shaking from the adrenaline release. She held out her arms for her son, beckoning him to come to her. He stood there for a moment, looking at his mother.
“You left me back there,” Malak said, somewhat accusingly.
“I knew you could handle yourself. I needed to get back to the village. You proved yourself very worthy today. You are my little warrior.”
Malak smiled.
A feast was held in honor of the warriors that had beaten down the wolfpack. This time, the party included the entire village, save for those on watch at the walls.
It had been many years since the last wolfpack, made up of Karn warriors, had raided Blackhorn and took Princess Jilleane from them. A later attack by the Karn had not been a traditional wolfpack raid, but an all-out military attack that took the lives of almost everyone in the tribe, including the Queen Mother at the time, Dachraolene.
No one was certain what tribe this wolfpack may have come from, but the attackers must have a dire need for a breeder to have sent such a small party to take on the Blackhorn tribe. All kDira was certain of was that there was another tribe out there that was desperate to survive and had shown what they would do to make that happen.
Though no one was a guest of honor, Malak received more than his fair share of accolades for his bravery and marksmanship. Everyone was calling him Young Warrior, and he loved every minute of the festivities. Even Winter felt a sense of pride for her brother, though she feared that this was all going to his head. She feared that he might be harder to deal with than ever before.
Winter looked over at her smiling brother, seated at the table, receiving pats on the back, handshakes, and compliments. She watched him for a moment when suddenly he looked at her. His dark eyes seemed to look through her, not at her. The smile vanished from his face for a moment as he stared at his sister. A chill ran down her spine, but she could not look away. And then Malak looked away and went back to receiving praise from the adults in the tribe.
cHAPTER 10
Malak, now fifteen, had become an active member in the regular patrols sent out by Agis. He had grown into a fit and tall young warrior within the Blackhorn tribe, and the others respect his skills. The scars still prominent on his face became a testament to the bravery he had shown at a very young age. Another plus for him was the fact that at the age of eight he had killed two wolfpack males who were trying to abduct his mother, the Queen Mother of the Blackhorn tribe.
Winter, now seventeen, also spent time on patrol, but much less than her brother. It was suspected that Winter was fertile, and though she had not yet borne a child, she was still regarded as a Princess Mother, partly due to the provicy, and partly due to the fact that she was having periods; something kDira never had until she found herself pregnant with Winter. Though the belief of her fertility was there, Winter had yet to mate with a male. It was suggested that she attempt mating with Benithan, the son of Princess Abril, but Winter was not about to be pushed into the ritual, not yet, and kDira was not about to rush her.
Charlomine is barely eleven, still learning the skills of the krebs, and proving to be a fine warrior in her own right. Though she was proficient with the bow and arrow, she took very closely after her father, Agis, and was learning skills that favored the sword.
kDira had given birth to one more female child five years earlier that they named Star after the beautiful starry night on which she was born. Two years after Star had been born, kDira gave birth to a stillborn male baby that they named Isiath after a close friend they had lost years earlier.
The other Princess Mothers were also busy with new babies, and because of all the births, the tribe was slowly growing. In addition to the added numbers in the tribe, the Blackhorn were also growing in intellect. In the past few years, the older members of the tribe had begun teaching the others the skill of interpreting, so the knowledge base of the tribe began to build upon itself. Soon the tribe was learning how to make rudimentary steam engines to power mills and saws. The walls of the village were rebuilt and reinforced with more advanced building techniques.
One of the tribesmen named Noske, who had originally come over from the Midlander tribe as an apprentice Interpreter, took it upon himself to learn the secrets of mathematics. He found patterns in numbers that assisted in construction, planning, and even economics.
Among the other tribes in the known world, the Blackhorn tribe was easily the most advanced.
One evening Malak, Agis, and a group of kreb warriors were sitting around an open fire in the town square telling stories of battles and great hunts. Fralek, one of the former Midlanders that joined the Blackhorn years earlier, was becoming more and more inebriated on bryne, and the more he drank, the more he was talking. He began to talk about the battle that had taken place with the Karn, and detail after detail spewed from his mouth.
“And then there was the time Hayden, that bastard, sent spies in to kidnap kDira.”
“Fralek,” Agis interjected, “I think you have said enough.”
“Who is Hayden?” Malak asked.
“Never mind Fralek’s ramblings; he is drunk,” said Agis.
“Who is Hayden?” Fralek asked, standing up from the log upon which he was sitting. “He was the leader of the great Midlander tribe, and then he went on to become accepted as the king of the Karn! And that bastard went on to betray us Midlanders and your mum too.”
“Fralek!”
“Please, father, I want to hear this.”
Agis gave Fralek a look that should have stopped the Midlander cold, but the bryne was having too much of an effect on the drunk man.
“You never told the boy, did you, Agis?” asked Fralek.
“I will cut your tongue out if you speak one more word!”
“Hayden,” Fralek said, forcing the words out of his drunken mouth, “is your real father!”
Agis jumped up from his seated position and tackled Fralek before anyone could stop him. Within seconds Agis had his hunting knife out and was holding it to the drunken warrior’s throat.
“Father!” Malak called out. “Father, is it true?”
Agis focused his anger on Fralek, debating whether to end his life or not.
“Father! Is it true?”
Agis released his hold on Fralek and stood up. He turned to look at Malak. Not knowing of any better way to say it, he just told it like it was. “Yes. It is true.”
Malak digested the thought for a minute, then turned around and walked away. He would never call Agis father again.
“Fralek needs to be whipped and expelled from the tribe!” Agis exclaimed to kDira in a fit of rage.
“It was bound to come out sooner or later,” replied kDira. “There are a lot of former Midlanders in the tribe who know of Hayden, and even the Blackhorn members know the truth. It seems Malak was the only one in the tribe who did not know the truth.”
“But Fralek went against my direct order —”
“Fralek was drunk. Give him a pass on this one. I am certain he will be sorry once he is thinking straight again.”
“I still want to kill him.”
“I don’t blame you, but we can’t afford to lose a tribe member now over a drunken outburst.”
Agis paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and to calm his breathing. “I guess that is what makes you a good leader.”
“I am the leader because I can make children. I am a good leader because I can whip any of you in a fight,” she said with a chuckle.
“You joke, but you are a great leader. Queen Dachraolene would be proud.”
“Thank you. So where is Malak? I suppose we have some explaining to do.”
“I don’t know. He turned away from me and walked off. He probably needs time to think.”
“It’s late. I hope he comes home soon.”
“I hope he doesn’t come home,” came a voice from the back of the room. kDira and Agis turned to see Winter standing there, having come from her sleeping area into the main chamber.
“Winter, what a horrible thing to say!” kDira scolded.
“It’s how I feel, and I know a lot of other people feel the same way. He is evil. I never met Hayden, but I have heard what he did to you and to others… Muzi… and I have to believe that from what I have witnessed, Malak has that same evil in him.”
“You don’t know that. He has progressed far in the past few years.”
“He has put on an act for you. He looks at me from a distance, and I swear he is wishing me dead.”
“Winter is right,” Agis said. “I have heard others say the same thing. When someone does something he does not like, he gives them a stare that cuts through to their very soul.”
“So, what am I supposed to do? Just kill my son?”
“Mum, you know of the provicy. You know in your heart it is turning out to be true.”
“He is my son. Hayden is dead, and his spirit has died with him. I will hear no more talk of this. When he comes back, I will explain everything to him. It is past time he knew.”
“Yes, mum.”
kDira looked at Agis, waiting for an answer from him. He stood there not sure what the best words would be. He chose simply, “yes, kDira,” and left it at that.
Outside the hut, Malak was standing near a window, having heard the entire conversation. He stood there a few moments more as the weight of the words he’d heard sunk in, and then he turned and headed towards the main gate.
“You are right, big sister,” he said to himself, “I was wishing you dead.”
pART 2
Hunger Pangs
cHAPTER 11
Malak walked for miles. Most of the distance was covered in the dark under the partial moon that shed little light onto the forest floor. The sun was just now starting to rise, and the grays and blacks of the dark forest were transforming into greens and browns as the light through the trees became brighter.
The path was familiar; he remembered walking this path as though it was yesterday, even though it had been over seven years since he last went this way into the Kaiba Forest. The last time he came through here, carrying only a stolen dagger, he had almost lost his life to the claws and teeth of a monstrous blackber. This time he wished another would come rushing towards him so he could release some anger and spill some blood to feed his aching soul.
This time he carried his own sword and wore a leather breast piece that had been passed down to him when he had become a full kreb. Kreb, oh how he hated that label. In his mind, he was the leader of the Midlanders by blood and the leader of the Karn by right. To call him a kreb was the same as calling him a drone, or a commoner. He was above that. He was more than the lowly, everyday krebs. He would rule them one day, or he would kill them all and plow their bones into the bare Earth.
He wondered if anyone was coming after him. He wondered if kDira, his dear mother, the one that had given birth to him and lied to him every day of his life, would have enough compassion to follow after him. What would he do should they meet again? It was not something he relished the thought of; he just wanted to go away and be alone. They would meet again, one day. They would meet on his terms, and she and her Blackhorn followers would bow to his terms or die by his terms.
It was then that he realized exactly where he was. He stopped and looked around the area closely. It was the place where he had rested, and suddenly been attacked by a blackber. On the ground, now partially hidden by years of overgrowth and fallen leaves, was the partial skeleton of the blackber he had killed on that day.
Malak walked over to the place he had rested as a young lad, the fallen tree that was still there, and sat down to rest and think. Though the attack was but a blur in his memory now, it was still something that he had relived countless times in his dreams.
He looked down at his chest where, hanging from his neck, was the paw that he had taken from the blackber. He lifted the paw and held it up to his face, tracing the path that the claws had torn into his flesh, creating the scars that were still prominent on his cheek.
He sat there for some time, lost in his thoughts, half expecting someone to come running down the path after him, but no one came. He laughed at the thought that the people that raised him were happy to see him go, relieved to be rid of him once and for all. He cussed at the thought of the first fifteen years of his life being a lie, and he vowed to find his true place. Somewhere he would find people that would simply know him as Malak and not the son of some bastard named Hayden; a father he never knew.
He grew hungry and pulled out a bit of dried chideer to nibble on. He hadn’t had time to stock his provisions for a long trip, but he was certain he could take game from the woods as he needed. In retrospect, he wished he’d brought a bow with him; chideer are so much easier to get with a ranged weapon rather than a sword or knife. He considered making one when a noise behind him startled him into a standing position.
“Easy, my young Prince. I see you have returned.”
“He’s been gone all night. Should we go after him?” kDira asked Agis. Neither had gotten any sleep during the night, expecting Malak to walk into the hut at any moment with a hundred questions about Hayden, the Midlanders, and the Karn. But he had never returned, and the two never went to sleep.
“I think we just need to give him time to work out his problems on his own now,” Agis replied. “He is not a boy anymore.”
“I never thought he would react this way. I knew the news would not be easy for him to take, but this is far worse
than I had feared.” What if this is the start of it?”
“What do you mean?”
“The provicy. What if this is what leads to him betraying the world?”
“What could he possibly do that could be considered betraying the world?”
kDira thought for a moment. “I guess it depends on what you consider the world to be. Our world? Or the entire world as we know it?”
“Who are you?” Malak asked, recognizing the old, gentle voice as the one that had found him bleeding all those years ago.
“My name is Nonham. I am a friend; you may put your sword away.”
Malak, not realizing he had instinctively drawn his sword, replaced it in its sheath.
Nonham stood a full hand taller than Malak, and though he appeared to be as old as some of the oldest warriors of Blackhorn, he had a youthful smile visible through his full beard and mustache. He wore a tattered brown tunic over what appeared to be some ancient leather armor. He carried no weapon that was visible.
“You were the one that saved my life when I was but a child… when I was attacked by the blackber.”
“Yes, I was,” replied Nonham. “You were a brave young man, coming out here at that age. And to kill a blackber single-handed. Well, that is something to be said about you also.”
“Why do you call me Young Prince?”
“I fear there is much about you that you do not know. Do you know that you are of royal blood?”
“I know a little, but how do you know is a bigger question.”
“I knew your father.”
Malak looked at him, not sure who the stranger actually meant by father. His face must have betrayed his confusion to Nonham.
“Hayden,” Nonham explained. “I served under your father, King Hayden.”
Malak’s eyes grew larger. “You must tell me about my father. I want to know everything about him.”
The kDira's World Anthology Page 30