Bladeborn

by Clayton Schonberger

  Bladeborn withdrew a small glow-globe from his pouch. The two Drommu warriors were now nowhere to be found. They had left him alone far beneath the surface of the world.

  Bladeborn knew the passages would be difficult to go back through—he would have to find his own way. But there seemed to be a light ahead. With the glow globe in one hand and Nightslayer in the other, he continued forward, determined to meet the witch known as the Visionare.

  The tunnel let out into a vast space lit by an eerie green glow. There was indeed an underground city here, but it was obviously long abandoned and in a ruined state. It also lay on a significant tilt compared to the stalactites and stalagmites, as if eons had passed since it was built. There was a high tower that should have crumbled long ago, and the green light cast from its windows was bright enough to illuminate the entire space.

  Following a rough path, Bladeborn reached the ancient stone city at a place where a giant effigy topped a pole next to a relatively large, intact tower.

  “Nightslayer, what do you make of this?”

  ~~I do not know, Bladeborn… Get out of here as soon as you can~~

  “I wish to explore this place first and perhaps find this witch… this Visionare…”

  ~~It is not wise to do so, Swordsman…There are some powers in this world that are far beyond your experience!~~

  “I am not afraid, Nightslayer.”

  The Sword remained silent.

  In the dim light of the cavern, Bladeborn regarded the effigy, woven of twigs, sticks, and bones. For some reason, Bladeborn felt it was meant to represent him. He stared at it, trying to figure out why it was there and why he was drawn to it.

  A croaking, Drommu voice came from right behind him, “I be the one you seek!”

  She had approached so silently that Bladeborn was almost startled. He turned and saw a large, old, wrinkled Drommu, dressed in rags, beads, and bracelets. She leaned on a crooked staff and looked at him through a single, good eye.

  “Why was I led here, Visionare?” Bladeborn said, gripping Nightslayer tightly. “Who—or what—are you? I thought all Drommu feared magic, yet I was told you are a witch!”

  The Visionare said, “I am the one who cares for the Drommu and keeps their laws. I am the one who balances for them. If those tasks make me a witch, then that is what I am…”

  “What is this effigy?” Bladeborn said, pointing the tip of Nightslayer at the rough figure.

  “I called you, and you came,” the Visionair claimed. “The weaving brought you here through your dreams.”

  Bladeborn considered what the witch claimed. She wanted him to believe that the magic in her effigy sent for him.

  “I am not so easily duped,” Bladeborn asked. “My will is my own.”

  “You are a fool to ignore the signs,” the Drommu witch said. “And such signs are everywhere, if you look.”

  “So, what are these signs? What do they say?” Bladeborn asked. “Why, then, was I summoned, witch?”

  “As I said, I watch over the Drommu. You bring change to what was stable. Is it good, or is it bad? We shall see…”

  “I don’t want to change things,” Bladeborn said, “And you will find I am a man of just intentions.”

  “You may think so, but I must know what form of ‘justice’ you bring.”

  Bladeborn was looking more closely at the effigy, a little off his guard. Unexpectedly, the Visionair pulled a piece of rune-covered antler from the sleeve of the rags she wore.

  ~~Look out!~~

  A split second too late, he dodged, but the Visionare’s sharpened bone cut the back of Bladeborn’s right arm. It was just enough to draw blood.

  Bladeborn swung Nightslayer’s tip within an inch of her neck—but he didn’t strike her. The Visionare didn’t flinch. Instead she looked at the tiny amount of Bladeborn’s blood on her dagger.

  The wound stung, but apparently the dagger had not been poisoned. He felt that she had not actually harmed him, nor had she intended to do so. The Visionare meant to bloody her dagger so she could sample it, which was undeniably morbid, but not a reason to kill her.

  The Visionare began to pace about, suddenly worried. “You know nothing! You come to us from the near-dead city. You seem to be a ‘civilized’ man. But what can a man such as you truly know—when he doesn’t know his soul?”

  “So, tell me of my soul, then, witch!” Bladeborn demanded.

  The Visionare stashed the piece of magic bone back beneath her sleeve. Pointing an accusatory finger at Bladeborn, “For thousands of years, I have watched over the Drommu. You are a vessel of change...both for good and for ill…And I see now that there is no way to stop this change!”

  “Speak plainly, witch,” Bladeborn said, wiping the small cut on his Sword-arm on his cloak. “If you have something to say, don’t shroud it in mystery!”

  Still, she continued to speak her puzzling prophecies, “You have cheated the Judge of the Dead before, but unless you use your gifts in a way favorable to the Gods, you will end up like the other Swordsmen! You, alone, are the final hope. For if a soul of your caliber is devoured all hope is gone! You could restore the solar reach to its natural course…Or be cast down before you learn what it is to live in service to others! The Judge of the Dead will be the first arbiter, as is rightly so!”

  Nightslayer, usually quiet when Bladeborn was around others, spoke: ~~Ignore this savage, Bladeborn! Her magic is false!~~

  Bladeborn felt Nightslayer was right—he did not like what he was hearing. It seemed to him the Visionair was claiming his time before the Judge of the Dead would be soon, and he didn’t wish to hear such nonsense. He turned his back on her and began to walk away.

  The Visionair called to him, “Wait! I am not done! I have not even begun!”

  “I do not want your predictions, good or ill, Visionare! You can keep them! I have had enough with prophecy in my life! Leave me be!”

  ~~Her words are meaningless, warrior. Go back to the Drommu tribesmen and forget her~~

  Without a glance back, Bladeborn left her there. She did not follow.

  Although it took several hours, he was able to find his way back to the cavern of the Drommu he had been with for the past week.

  That morning, when he asked the leader of the tribe what had happened to those who had led him to the Visionare’s tunnels, the tribal leader claimed to have never heard of a Drommu named Visionair, and said there were no Drommu as tall as the ones Bladeborn described. The chieftain also warned Bladeborn not to try to retrace his steps, saying, “There are many dangerous things beneath the world. You have encountered one. You would be mad to try to go back. You are lucky that the one you saw let you go.”

  * * *

  Bladeborn continued traveling southward across the Blasted Plain, staying briefly with Drommu cave tribes along the way. In the north, the climate made it very difficult to live and the hunting was poor. In the south it was the opposite: hunting was good and temperatures were more satisfactory. Yet in that area, the Raider Marches, were the Rhinolon, the war-like beasts whom the Drommu so feared.

  At dusk one day, Bladeborn and the tribe were hunting when an alarm was raised. Bladeborn was told to get down and hide. He did so, and heard marching feet and clanking armor.

  Bladeborn lifted his head up over the rocks to look. From his vantage point, he saw a caravan of what could only be Rhinolon. The hulking, horned warriors were driving a column of large beasts laden with packs across the desert. A weary group of Drommu prisoners were chained to one of the pack-beasts. A cruel Rhinolon taskmaster drove them forward with lashes of a whip.

  These were the first Rhinolon Bladeborn had encountered. With his excellent vision, Bladeborn could see that Rhinolon had large snouts with forward-facing horns, wiry tufts of hair, and huge muscles over leathery skin. Twice as large as a man and three times the size of a Drommu, they all looked fearsome, each carrying sharpened weapons. Their armor looked to be made up of steel discs over worked hides.

&nbs
p; When they had gone, Bladeborn said to the leader of the Drommu hunting party, “Where are they going with those prisoners?”

  The Drommu leader whispered to Bladeborn, “The ones they captured are going to be food for the Rhinolon. They are beyond hope. If the gods are kind, they will all die before they ever reach the markets in the Rhinolon fortresses and cities.”

  “Why can't we attack the Rhinolon and save those poor fellows?” Bladeborn asked.

  “We will never be strong enough,” another Drommu said hopelessly. “If the Rhinolon discovered how many of us there are, they would come in great numbers and turn us all into food. There are thousands of Rhinolon in Onager, their Northern capital. There are millions of them deeper in their land.”

  “But we can’t simply leave them to their fates,” Bladeborn argued, frustrated.

  The Drommu leader stated, “This is their world. With their powerful Devils, they control all our fates.”

  “Not my fate,” Bladeborn declared.

  “Some things in the world can’t be changed,” the tribal leader said. “Yet you are unlike the Drommu. Maybe you are right.”

  Bladeborn moved from tribe to tribe, talking about rebellion against the Rhinolon. His call for action filled their meek hearts with fear. He was feeling distaste for the Drommu’s passive perspective on the world and was unwilling to accept it. They could be courageous hunters, killing great plated mammoths, but they would not face the Rhinolon.

  As they shared stories, Bladeborn heard of a tribe that was even farther south. A few days earlier, these Drommu had successfully fought off a group of Rhinolon that attacked during a Mammoth hunt. He inquired after this group of Drommu, called the “Brave Camp.” A handful of Brave Camp hunters had survived the battle with the Rhinolon Raiders—and in the fierce fighting these Drommu killed several of the raiders. However, many Brave Camp hunters had been captured.

  Bladeborn was determined to meet the survivors of the Brave Camp. After travelling eastward through trackless desert for three days, Bladeborn located the underground network of caves belonging to the Drommu of the “Brave Camp.” A sentry was the first to greet him, far below the desert’s surface.

  “You be the man known as ‘North?’” the sentry asked Bladeborn.

  “Yes,” Bladeborn said. “Are you from ‘Brave Camp?’”

  “I am,” the sentry replied. “How did you find our caverns? No Rhinolon has ever found us.”

  “I know the ways of the Drommu,” Bladeborn replied. “How did you know I was coming?”

  “We have heard of you, Man of the North,” the sentry replied. “Some say you are a myth. But here you are. I will take you to our campfire.”

  In a cave with the “Mammothbiters,” Bladeborn found the Brave Camp survivors were still angry and brooding from the loss of their brothers and sisters.

  Bladeborn spent a day with the new clans, hunting giant wartdogs. When they had cleaned, cooked, and eaten their kills, they feasted and drank thornberry wine.

  After drinking deeply of the wine, Bladeborn felt inspired, and he arose from the rock he had been sitting on.

  In the light of the bonfire, Bladeborn drew Nightslayer, and he proclaimed, “Drommu of the Mammothbiters and Brave Camp! We should kill the Rhinolon and free those they took from us! The Sword I carry is made of magic steel, and is very powerful! My Sword-arm is strong and I am not afraid!”

  A Drommu who Bladeborn hadn't seen before got up from his spot and moved—silent as a cloud—near to the fire where Bladeborn was addressing the clans. He carried a heavy Rhinolon sword that had the tip broken off. When he spoke, it was with the voice of measured anger. “This man is what we need, brothers and sisters of Brave Camp. Look him over! He does not fear. He is almost as tall as a Rhinolon raider, and his muscles are that of a powerful warrior!”

  There were growls of approval.

  “Look at his Sword!” the Drommu leader declared. “Have you ever seen one to match it? This man of the North is one who can take us into battle. As you know, I killed a Rhinolon once. If I can kill one, this man can kill ten! We can kill them! We can avenge our lost loved ones and free those they took!”

  The assembled Drommu belched and yelped in approval.

  Waving Nightslayer in the air, Bladeborn went on speaking wildly, rousing a spirit of strength in the assembly of warriors.

  “Yes, we will have battle,” Bladeborn shouted. “The Rhinolon can die, they are not immortal. And if you smash their heads, their skulls will break!” He brought Nightslayer down on a mammoth tusk and snapped it clean in two. The Drommu howled in approval.

  Bladeborn and the Drommu leaders continued to talk all night. As dawn broke they plotted strategy for an attack which would take place as soon as they could track down the Rhinolon hunters that held the Brave Camp prisoners.

  Chapter 15: The Rhinolon

  “Most Rhinolon can’t see well, day or night,” the Chief of Brave Camp whispered to Bladeborn as they waited to spring their trap. “Many Drommu just hide from the Raiders and escape. But it does not always work, and some get caught.”

  Bladeborn could see the six Rhinolon raiders setting up camp by the fading light of the day even while Drommu shortbowmen quietly moved onto a high, downwind dune.

  “What’s that one doing?’ Bladeborn asked. He thought he saw the largest of the Rhinolon squeezing the arms of the Drommu prisoners one by one.

  “The big one?” the Chief of Brave Camp asked. “That is their leader. I think he is picking their dinner.”

  “We had better hurry, then,” Bladeborn said.

  The Drommu Chief whistled to the archers, who stood up and fired, peppering the Rhinolon camp with their flint-tipped arrows. Most of the arrows failed to get through Rhinolon armor into flesh, but some of the Drommu were excellent shots, able to hit their targets in vulnerable spots, like their heads. Many of the Rhinolon Raiders had half a dozen arrows in them when Bladeborn, the Brave Camp Chief, and the Drommu spearmen got to them.

  Bladeborn saw the Drommu arrows bounce off the big Rhinolon leader, even though he wore no armor. Unscathed, the big Rhinolon managed to get on a scaly mount and escape into the desert night.

  Before any more of them got away, the Drommu and Bladeborn viciously fell upon them. Though wounded by the archers, the Rhinolon raiders were dangerous fighters and several Drommu were badly hurt. The last Rhinolon standing had a dozen arrows stuck in its head and body, and it swung a huge maul at the Drommu, keeping them back. It said in the Drommu Language, “Your people will pay for this!”

  “You’ll have to catch us first!” Bladeborn said, approaching the wounded Rhinolon from behind. It turned around and saw Bladeborn. It was so shocked it froze, mid-swing.

  “A HU-man?” it squealed in confusion. Bladeborn chopped down into its neck and it collapsed in a bloody heap on top of one of the other dead Rhinolon.

  “They're not so tough...” Bladeborn stated as it died. He kicked the Rhinolon’s corpse. But inwardly, he was worried. Many arrows were required to wound each Rhinolon enough to make them vulnerable.

  With whoops and hollers, the Drommu battlers looted the Rhinolon camp, retrieved their arrows, and released the Drommu Brave Camp prisoners. Bladeborn did what he could for each Drommu wounded by the Rhinolon, praising their bravery. Two were beyond help; they had been hit squarely by Rhinolon mauls. Bladeborn didn’t linger over them, instead trying to use his Essence to heal those who were injured.

  The Chief of Brave Camp said, “Look! The man of the North has a healer’s touch!”

  All the wounded recovered and survived. As for the Drommu who were hit by the Rhinolon mauls, every bone in their frail bodies were broken. For them there was nothing to do. Bladeborn was unable to bring them back.

  In his last breath, one of the dying Drommu said, “We have freed my brother and nephews. We have taken our vengeance. My only regret is I will not live to kill another Rhinolon.”

  The Drommu who were near enough to hear this looked
to Bladeborn for some kind of solace.

  “His spirit will live on with us,” Bladeborn said. “I am not yet done with the Rhinolon. We may be fleas biting them, but that is in our favor. They won’t know what hits them until too late.”

  The Drommu looked unsure. Then, the Leader of Brave Camp said, “Aye!”

  The brother of the Drommu who had died also agreed, “This human led the attack that saved me and my two sons. If he wishes to hunt the Rhinolon, then my sons and I are with him!”

  “I will bring my hunters,” the leader of the Mammothbiters said. “For too long has our tribe lived in fear. Tonight, we showed the Rhinolon that THEY have reason to fear.”

  “Aye!” others agreed.

  They buried the two who died. Bladeborn was amazed how little the Drommu grieved for them.

  ~~The Drommu are accepting of death, Bladeborn. You must learn this from them, also~~

  On the trail home, the individual Drommu growled in spontaneous delight. By the next night, they were safely back in the Mammothbiter’s home-cave. They celebrated their victory, with thornberry wine and feasted on dried strips of plated mammoth they had looted from the Rhinolon. They rejoiced at the trophies taken, and began to plan another raid.

  * * *

  The Drommu learned a lot from their early attacks on the Rhinolon. They found that their shortbows were more effective at close range, and that the Rhinolon were best attacked with longer spears from behind. They only attacked six- to eight-member Rhinolon caravans, and the Drommu numbered twenty to thirty. The Drommu spearmen were good at finishing off the wounded Rhinolon, softened up by arrows, yet Bladeborn was the crux of every assault. He led the charge of spear-wielders and often directed the melee with his shouted commands, even while fighting two or three Rhinolon.

  The Rhinolon almost exclusively focused their attacks on Bladeborn. He was two feet taller than any Drommu and did most of the killing. Bladeborn did not come through the battles unscarred, but he was never injured badly enough to halt his slaughtering of the brutish creatures. Because they attacked at either dusk or dawn, Nightslayer claimed the Rhinolon often didn’t realize they were fighting a human, mistaking Bladeborn for a tall Drommu. Time and again, Bladeborn and the Drommu struck so quickly the shocked Rhinolon had barely arisen from their bedrolls before Nightslayer or Drommu spears brought them down.