She was standing at the crest of a small hill, the winds blowing her long black hair violently. Black clouds rolled over head, hiding the full moon and dousing the Earth in their fury. A flash of lightning. For a single fleeting moment, an immense ivory tower illuminated in the distance. At it's flat cap, a stream of red cloth billowed wildly, attached to the hilt of a greatsword.
Shielding her face from the fury of the storm with an arm, she trudged slowly down the hill and across a muddy plane to the tower. She had to climb it. She didn't know why, but it was important. She had to reach that sword. Another flash of lightning as she approached the ivory walls. A face grinned out at her. No, a decorative carving she decided.
She felt the smooth ivory and found recesses and openings large enough to lodge her hands and feet in. She started the arduous ascent. Her left arm hurt.
Hours seemed to pass and still she climbed. Against strong winds and rain battering her face. Her limbs burned fiercely. She looked down, there was only darkness. She closed her eyes and continued the climb. Another flash of lightning. Another face grinned out at her from the tower. Bright white light illuminating empty eye sockets. She used it as the next opening to lodge her hand in and continued upwards.
Centuries passed before she reached the top. Her arms, ready to give out, thrust her body upwards one last time as she scrambled on to the flat surface, lying flat on her back, breathing heavily. She closed her eyes against the stinging rain, losing mind to the mysteries of the unconscious. A flash of white light illuminated her eye lids, the distant roar of thunder breaking her trance. Not yet she thought. She had work to do.
She clambered to her knees and stood up. There was no sword. A sinking feeling in her chest. She was always useless. She began to walk towards the far edge of the tower. An audible crunch ripped through the noise of the storm. She looked down, there lay a cracked skull. Human. Child. Her eyes wide with fear, she backed away. Another crunch. She ran to the edge, the roar of thunder drowning out the breaking of bones. As she reached the edge, another flash of lightning illuminated the world.
Beneath her lay the ruin of a mighty civilization. Tall walls, broken. A shadow of their former glory. Houses, crumpled to the ground. A reminder of memories long lost. An immense statue of a mighty warrior, once glorious. Now, shackled in submission. The entire picture painted with the bones of the once living.
She backed away, shaking her head in denial. Her foot caught on something. A bone, sticking high out of the tower. She fell backwards, her arm looking for the ground that wasn't there. She tumbled off the edge of the bone tower. The flat turreted roof rushing away and into the stormy sky. She fell, on and on it seemed. Forever, into the darkness.
*
Tristan sat on the rocky outcrop next to a small stream that tumbled from the mountaintops into the water collection tanks beneath him. He looked down at the village, the single fire in the center staving off the darkness of twilight and casting long shadows on the five wooden long houses arranged in a circle around it. It didn't reach the few small huts that comprised the outer circle, but a dim glow escaped from their windows, glumly shedding light on the furry yak skin roofs. Elder Gyatso sat by the fire with the entire group of children gathered around him as he recited a story. Dramatic hand movements cast long shadows of mystical beasts locked in combat on the orphanage walls while the still night air was pierced by the laughter and gasping of children.
A lone figure trudged down the main dirt road to the village gates carrying a basket in one arm. That's right, thought Tristan, Tenzin would be working on the fence tonight during guard duty. Only natural, he smiled, for Pema to bring him some warm dinner. The girl approached the gate shyly, and placing the basket on the ground, began to back away shaking her head and muttering unheard things. Then another figure, a male popped out from a hut and threw his arm around her shoulder and nudged her forward by his charismatic stride. The two approached a third figure, kneeling and pounding away with a mallet on the wooden fence at the village outskirts.
All of a sudden, the third figure had vanished. Pema and Tenzin stood awkardly for a moment before some sort of conversation was initiated. He took her left hand with both of his own and placed his forehead to it, a sign of affection and appreciation. They talked for several minutes, and Tristan could imagine the bright red face of Pema laughing awkwardly to the humourless and narcissistic joking of Tenzin, which was often sputtered awkwardly itself. When Pema finally left, the third figure reappeared and casually clapped a high five with Tenzin.
Chodak and Tenzin were blood brothers, bound to one another for life by the bond formed from suckling at the same breast together as babes. Tristan wondered what it was like to have such a brother, bound so deeply that either one only breathed as long as the other. He looked down at the orphanage, children still playing with the Elder at its step, a shadow moving behind the yak skin curtain over the entrance. Sangmu would be waiting for him. He imagined her angry face, the one that she made when ever she was worried for one of her many adopted children.
He sighed and looked up at the starry sky, making out The Father and The Mother. Then a thick column of smoke, deep black smoke, entered the top of his vision and he looked away and across the coniferous forest that surrounded his village, getting on his feet as he did so. He began to walk down the rocky slope to the hidden path in the forest. It had been a week since they first saw the smoke rising from the base of the tallest mountain in the region, Mount Romsdalen in the far distance to the south. He knew that to be where Torst was, but none in the village except Elder Gyasho had ever even seen the mighty city.
Surely that travelling bard must be wrong, he thought. The man had claimed, in between his jolly drunken singing, that Torst had been razed to the ground by a slave army from the black lands. But Tristan had long dreamed and imagined of the great stone walls that were said to rise to the skies and the majestic cathedrals where all gods were welcome and wine was served in place of water. Surely no human being could bring to ground such a magnificent city. He preferred Elder Gyasho's explanation for the smoke, that a nobleman had passed, and fires lit in his tribute. Still, the blackness and longevity of it worried him. It felt like an omnious sign of things to come.
The long, haunting howl of a wolf pierced the night air, abruptly bringing Tristan back to thoughts of his current quest. Herder Melo had been complaining of his goats disappearing in the night due to attacks by some creature. Tristan suspected a hungry snow leopard, and the villagers would not allow the animal to live were they to find it. After all, the mountain goats were the most important component of their livelihood. Consequently, half the village was on high alert. Tristan knew he had to find the creature first, and scare it away. He hurried his step, instinctively following a well traversed path through the thick underbrush. It was soft under his feet, the dry dirt broken by pebbles and chippings of bark. Thick ferns blocked the way, which he moved aside almost without a second thought.
The moon had disappeared behind the tall pines, but enough light filtered through to see his way. As he walked by a familiar tree, he stopped rather abruptly. A quiet whimpering came from his left. Approaching cautiously, he moved a small bush to reveal a mountain fox struggling against one of the herders traps. Both back legs bitten through bone by sharp metallic teeth, its snow white fur matted with blood that pooled all around the hind quarters. "You poor thing" he whispered, calmly stroking the soft fur. The fox was obviously scared and tried to bite, he let it. The sharp teeth causing streams of blood to run down his hand into the pool on the ground. He did not wince at the pain, but rather used it to remind himself of the torture that the animal was put through.
He sat by the fox for hours, petting it gently and singing the songs that Elder Chewa had sung to him on the painful days of his youth. He thought about the animals life. Had it any children? How about a partner? Where was its home? What was its favourite food? Then he thought about the village gods, and found it ironic that the herder prayed to the Great Fox, but had no problem in killing her children.
When the fox finally calmed and closed its eyes in deep sleep, Tristan gently removed its head from his lap, and lay it on the ground. He picked up a large rock, and quickly smashed the creatures skull. "Rest now, little one." He whispered, walking slowly back onto the roughly carved path. He did not have the heart to look back.
*
He must have fallen asleep, leaning on a tree in the woods in front of the herders farm, for the rustling of leaves and quick pattering of footsteps woke him from a dream. In the dream he had run on four legs, swiftly and close to the ground. He had hunted, stalking a white hare in complete silence. He had found a home, a nice warm den, and a mother for his children. He had gone out to bring them all food, and finally, he had left the world, to look at it from above and see just how small his little patch of forest really was.
The footsteps grew closer. He got up slowly, reaching for the long stick next to him. There were four separate steps, was it the snow leopard? No, if it was he wouldn't have heard it. A mountain wolf? But where was the rest of the pack? It seemed too late for an animal to attack now, was it getting desperate? "Who's there?" He called. A sudden pause in the footsteps, and then running! Tristan brandished his stick in preparation.
Suddenly, the shrubs opposite him moved aside to reveal a person. It was hard to make out his features in the darkness, but he was obviously very muscular. They stood staring at each other in disbelief for a moment before the man raised a palm, and spoke. "Calm, friend we come in peace." His voice was dazzling, a melody composed of all the greatest sounds producible by man, beast or earth. As if through his sheer, Tristan felt calm. He nodded slowly. "Ren, come, its alright." A few light foot steps later, another figure appeared, looking down at the ground. A boy? He must have been Tristans age.
"I am Zammar, and this is Brenda, pleasure to meet you." stepping forward , the man extended a large hand. Brenda? Does that mean she's a girl? Her hair must have been cut slightly lower than the shoulders, and chain mail hid the more feminine features. Even with his sharp eyes, it was impossible to make out any more features in the darkness of the forest floor. But now he couldn't really see her as a boy either.
"Hi, I'm called Tristan." he stammered, grasping at the hand awkwardly. As the thick silhouette of an arm squeezed his own, an immense pressure shot through the entirety of his bone structure. His knees began to buckle in submission and his heart beat fervently. He gasped. The pressure was not just physical, it reverberated through his mind, forcing himself to respect the strength and might of the man.
"Tristan, a good name. Though not from this region I see. I must speak to your village leaders Tristan, it is most urgent." It took a few long seconds before Tristan finally comprehended the mans words; he was still dazzled by the beautiful voice. Village leader? They didn't have a leader. The man would probably want to see the two elders though.
So, still stunned for words, Tristan began to lead the pair back to the village. As they cleared the forest, they stepped into light, for the first rays of the morning sun had begun to poke out from the horizon. When he turned back to check on his company, Tristan stopped dead in his tracks. This man, Zammar, was beautiful! His muscles were carved in such a way that the absolute extent of human beauty was clearly visible, and simultaneously surpassed absolutely. Long, silky black hair outlined a hard face and long jaw. His eyes, situated above a perfectly proportioned nose, were a deep brown that bore through Tristans skin, leaving goosebumps wherever they landed.
In those eyes, he saw the greatest, and worst of man. The product of a long life, lived honorably but not without regret. For there was a burden on the man, one he bore with his head held high but that weighed on him heavily and without relenting. More so than that, deep in his eyes, Tristan saw loneliness. Not the loneliness of a wolf, separated from his pack, no, this loneliness was overbearing, beyond understanding. It crushed Tristan with an unseen force, a pressure so substantial that he felt a single tear slide down his cheek. He looked away and to the ground, in shame.
Did he have any right to share the world with a man so great? Surely not! He felt self conscious of his own arms, much skinnier in comparison, and his brown hair, much dirtier and rough. He contemplated, in those long seconds, the meaning of existence and the implications of reality. His entire being began to change, transform, transcend. Everything that had once been absolute suddenly became indefinite, possibilities that were once impossible, now plausible; ideas once unimaginable, now easily conceived. For the first time in his life, Tristan wondered if his preference was really as straight as he had always thought.
They had walked around the clearing surrounding the village and reached the gates by the time Tristan had finally accepted his new reality. Zammar. The man must be the absolute definition of greatness. He is one to strive towards, with the full knowledge that any would fail to achieve even half the immensity. He calmed himself with deep quiet breaths, accepting his inferiority as just another example in the infinite sea of humanity and focused on his surroundings. Tenzin, as usual, was found to be asleep on guard/repair duty. He was slumped up against the old fence, his furry hat covering the snoring face. So, Tristan quietly opened the gate, the old hinges creaking in a most cringe worthy fashion, and led the pair inside.
Elder Gyasho already sat by the morning fire, a red woolen hat atop his head, hiding the thin balding white hair. His wrinkled face betrayed no emotion as he sat in meditation. Eyes, beholding much wisdom and history, closed against skin the colour of red clay. They approached respectfully, not wanting to interrupt. After a short wait, the elder finished his meditation and looked their way. Then he fell off his stool.
"You!" He gasped pointing a skinny finger at Zammar.
"Oh, is that Gyasho? I am most humbled you still remember me." There was a pause as the elder slowly and painfully got up, ambled over to Zammar and began poking his hard chest-which was high above the stooped elders head.
"Spirits be true, it really is you, in the flesh! I thought the gods thought me a fool to play their tricks on this morning! It has been long, Zammar. But How? Many years have passed, I have grown old and weak, yet you..."
"It is not of concern my old friend. I must speak to you, and the elders of your village. It is urgent." The old man seemed shocked at the interruption, then started nodding and mumbling.
"mm yes, let me go and get Chewa." And with that, the two completely forgetting Tristan and this other girl walked away to the Elder house, Zammar supporting the laughing old man with a strong arm."
Tristan looked at the girl. Brenda. Her eyes were down cast, boring deep into the ground, black hair hiding their secrets. In the light, he noticed her slender form and the richness of her hair. He realized now, that behind the dirt and grime, she really was quite pretty. Rather, she was far prettier than any woman he had seen before. He felt his heart flutter for just a moment then worked up the courage.
"Hello, nice to meet you." She didn't reply, she didn't even look at him, no reaction at all. It was as if she was lost in a world of her own, one where his voice would not carry.
"Hello?" he said, stepping forward cautiously and softly placing a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, as if woken from sleep, she jumped back away from him and, trembling slightly in a protective position, met his gaze. Her eyes were a striking green. Stunned, he stared back into them. On the surface, they were glassy and empty, devoid of life, lost in another world of retreat. But reading deeper, Tristan saw pain. So much pain. And sadness. So much sadness and sorrow, masked by anger and apathy. More so than that, there was a complete lack of hope. As if these eyes did not see any good in the world anymore. He swallowed, what evil had this poor girl lived through?
"Please make yourself comfortable." He stammered, placing a wooden stool near the fire. Her eyes hadn't left his face, her expression unreadable. Casting his own eyes to the ground in shame, he turned around slowly and walked back towards the gate. Never in his life had Tristan felt so helpless. I can't do anything, he despaired. The striking green eyes drilled into his back and their image stuck in his mind, a vision that he could never forget. He wanted nothing more than to save her from her pain, but just one look into those eyes instilled the feeling that it was impossible. Instead, he focused on his current task and walked towards the forest even faster, trying, he realized in shame, to run.
Shrugging away thoughts of the girl, he expertly traced his steps back and found the mountain fox body. Still untouched, though a colony of large ants was starting to gather near. Beneath a nearby bush he found a single set of tracks. Then a broken twig, a slight scratch on a trees root, another track, a pile of disturbed leaves. Tristan followed the trail a long way back until he finally came to a small den, hidden behind a pile of sticks and brown leaves. Carefully, he placed his fingers under the ledge and heaved a large chunk of Earth from the den.
There, close to the surface lay a vixen. Life having recently left her behind, the snowy body displayed great contrast to the dry ground on which it rested. Tristan closed his eyes in sadness. This is what happens when the male fails to bring home food. He had seen too many animals die from starvation recently, food was exceptionally scarce for this time of year. He leaned over to look into the den, four kits, newly born, lay still by the fox. Unable to feed, they had no chance. But then he spotted a fifth one, still suckling desperately for its mothers life milk, deep in the warmest corner of the den.
Gently he picked it up, the dark fur was soft to touch, and the kit felt much too insubstantial in his hands. Yet, he thought, it was the most substantial thing of all. The miracle of life. It breathed slowly, but surely. If he could feed it soon, the little guy would be alright. He smiled and lightly placed it into the small pouch on his belt that he used to transport injured birds back to his house. It was soft and warm, made of yak fur and had many small holes for extra ventilation. Warm bedding had been made for the bottom; most small animals could live comfortably in it for a long time, as long as they received food.
As he walked back to the village, Tristan noted the deadness of the air. The entire forest seemed darker, flowers grew scarcely in the places where they had once been abundant and his ears missed the familiar twittering of mountain birds high in the alpine growth. Even the ever persistent insects seemed fewer in number. He side stepped a fallen tree, not remembering the obstacle previously. The stream beneath it trickled slowly, when it had once rushed down from the mountains to the south. A chill passed through his body. Though the suns light and warmth hardly penetrated the bushy under growth, fall had never seemed this cold.
Entering a large clearing, Tristan paused for a second to look south. The giant pillar of pitch black smoke still rose high above the tree line. Was Elder Chegwu right? Was this an omen, a herald for horrible things yet to come. A warning? Or a sign from some angry god that the world will be consumed in an immense inferno, from which only smoke will rise? Torst. Then he thought about Brenda Ansari, the thin cuts on her face and how her left arm hung limply at her side. How her tunic had lost colouring in areas from rubbing excessively hard when washing, and the dirt and grime which hid her beauty. But most of all, he thought of the giant void in her eyes, and the pain it hid. Had she come from Torst? Had she suffered the cause of that smoke?
He saw her as he approached the clearing before the village. She was sitting on the ground with her back to him, facing the fire, head buried in between two folded knees. Tristan patted the pouch on belt, surely a new born kit would cheer her up. With new found confidence, he began walking towards the gate, shaking his head at the sleeping body of Tenzin.
Halfway across the clearing, something rustled in the undergrowth behind. An animal? The movement sounded strained, desperate and exhausted. He waited patiently, had the smell of the kit attracted a desperate predator? Suddenly, a sound that mixed somewhere in between a high shriek and hiss ripped through the air. It caught him by surprise, he had never heard such a call before. The shrub nearest him rustled once more, then out from behind it stepped a creature he had never seen before. An upright torso sat in between four legs, long sinewy arms were capped with small, sharp talons, and small stubs of spikes were situated on each joint. Its face was small and oval, curving backwards into a miniature crown made of three sharp spikes. Dark scaled skin showed between harder plated parts, the entire thing was a deep purple colour, hints of dark green were starting to appear closer to its thick neck. The crown of its head stood near to where Tristans hip crease was. He could tell that this was only a juvenile of the species from the clear signs of development paused at a moment in time.
Somewhere, someone was shouting.
In silent amazement, Tristan beckoned the creature calmly over with an extended hand. He thought he had known all of the animals on this plateau, but it seemed that wasn't the case. A world of possibilities opened in his mind, and suddenly he wanted to understand this species, to learn all of its mysteries and uncover its way of life. The animal ambled over to him slowly. It dragged the back right leg, had it broken in a fall? He could prepare a splint for that, and nurse the animal back to health. But he would need to figure out its diet first. As if in answer, a deceivingly large mouth was opened, revealing thin but long and sharp cylindrical teeth covered in sticky saliva. The strange hissing sound pierced the air again. The small eyes he realized, were the blackest shade of black he had ever seen. In them, there was nothing.
The eyes suddenly looked to his right, a loud anguished yell brought him out from his trance just as he was pushed forcefully to the side "GET AWAY!" Tristan hit the ground hard and looked up just in time to see a slim figure, brandishing a shiny long sword, leap over his legs.
"don't..." he whispered, too late. For the sword had swung upwards and stabbed clean through the animals neck and poked out from the other side of its head, spurting dark green liquid over the grass. The creature let out a short gurgle before all legs collapsed and it crumpled.
Tristan watched, horror struck as Brenda Ansari pulled out the blade hurriedly, awkwardly and stabbed again, in between the plates near the shoulder joint. And again. And again. Then she was over the corpse on her knees, stabbing it relentlessly, her body shaking. Blood, organs and flesh flew all through the air around her, covering her face, clothes and hair in dark green liquid. She did not slacken. Her distressed cries pierced the still air "DIE!" "MONSTER!" "GO AWAY!" "LEAVE ME ALONE!" Her face was an expression of pure fury. Tristan had never seen such anger, it stunned him into a submissive silence. He felt too overwhelmed to even think about moving.
Gradually over a period of time, the mutilation slowed, she thrust the sword sluggishly with both arms, her entire body rocking back and forth on wobbly knees as her head stared down at the ground, covered by blood stained hair. The war cries had been replaced with silent sobs. The anger dissipated, replaced with incredibly strong anguish. He stared at her now, in silence, beginning to realize the true depth of her grief.
The ground shook by virtue of powerful footsteps. Muscular legs, covered in the perfect amount of hair, leaped across Tristans vision. "REN!" a voice, beautiful even in distress. Suddenly, Zammar had the girl in his arms, cradling her like a toddler and rocking sideways as she sobbed in to his giant shoulder. Her left arm hung limp.
*
"So this is the threat that you have come to warn us about?" Elder Gyasho sat, head resting on his knuckles, the wrinkles on his face casting shadows by light of dim lanterns hanging along the longhouse walls.
"Yes, though this is a juvenile. The adults pose a far greater threat." Zammar replied.
They were in the elders longhouse. The ten men of the village, Zammar and the two elders sat arranged around a low wooden table on furry rags. At the center of the table was the small, mutilated head of the animal. Tenzin and Chodak sat side by side, they had completed their trials of manliness only a few weeks prior. Tristan stood at the end of the house, by an open window. In one hand he cradled the little fox kit and with the other a bottle of warm goat milk.
Zammars figure was a silhouette to him, the massive muscles along his back reminding him of the mans might. He imposed great dominance on all others, and constantly, they darted their eyes back and forth from him, afraid he will notice their stare. Clearly there was reverence, fear and respect.
"What manner of creature is this?" Tshering, an older man with gray hair asked quietly.
"They are the Und'kal. They come from another world, by light of stars and they seem to have taken a liking to ours. They seek to raze our cities and take our homes for their own"
"Even the mighty walls of Torst had no chance against this monstrous foe?" Sonam, a large middle aged man with thick red hair and braided beard asked, his strong voice quivered slightly in fear.
"Torst stood bravely, but alone. The enemy was numberless, their horde swept through the cities army, obliterating it. The battlefield was a bloodbath. The result of the clash can be seen even from here, a week later."
There was a fear that glinted in the eyes of every man around the table. Torst had been the symbol of ultimate might. Stories told of it's glorious defense, and legend spoke of how such a mighty city could fall only to the hand of a god.
"Can such an adversary even be defeated?" whispered Chodak, silent nodding of heads followed around the table.
"It can and will be defeated, because it must be." Zammar replied, "but not now, and not by you. This village is too close to their new hive in Torst and they will come soon, it is time for you to find a new home. You must leave, at once."
A long silence fell across the house. Each man lost in his own thoughts and fears. Torst, Tristan thought. Close to a million people resided behind those walls, how could anyone, anything be so heartless as to kill such a number? People with lives, dreams and hopes. What right did he have to still live, to enjoy the precious luxuries of life-that had so been stripped from so many others. Closing his eyelids, he remembered the animal, the Und'kal. It's painful limp, and the shrill cry of pain and helplessness. Then the picture of those eyes, empty, black eyes.
Sonan broke the lull, "I will gather the yaks and goats." He got up awkwardly and his head hit a rafter with a resounding thud. Cursing silently, he turned and stooped out of the door.
"Let's go check the food stores, to see what we can take with us." Chodak said to Tenzin, who nodded. The two left, gradually followed by all of the men each of whom found a duty to take care of. Only Tristan, Zammar and the two elders remained, when elder Chegwu turned.
Looking Zammar right in the eyes, she reached up as he kneeled down to lay a wrinkled hand on his face.
"So much pain, I see in your eyes. You have suffered, but you will suffer more. Your greatest strength, will be your downfall. When the day of dark sun comes, look to the Northern star. Beneath it, you will learn yet another lesson." She turned and ambled away, out of the house to join the women and tell them the news.
"So much pain, I see in your eyes. You have suffered, but you will suffer more. Your greatest strength, will be your downfall. When the day of dark sun comes, look to the Northern star. Beneath it, you will learn yet another lesson." She turned and ambled away, out of the house to join the women and tell them the news.
Zammar kneeled in silence for another few seconds before Elder Gyasho's arm on his shoulder broke his trance. "Don't worry about her, she smokes essence once too often." Zammar smiled a dazzling smile at the elder as he stood back up.
"They are very brave, Gyasho, your people."
"They are not my people, simply my family." His tone grew gravely serious, "Zammar, they have lived in this village from birth. Born to parents who were born to parents who were born here. This plateau is the only home they know of. None of them have ventured any farther than the White river."
"All the more to compliment their bravery. They face the unknown, nothing can be scarier."
"And, where am I to take them for this new home?" The elder spoke calmly, but Tristan could tell that there was great worry in his voice. Zammar turned to look him in the eyes.
"The enemy will head west, to the Blacklands. They search for our cities, places of high population. Kampalla is closest to Torst. Indus to the south may be under threat, but I think not for a while, as it is separated by the Dragon Peaks."
"You must head north, Gyasho. Take a north eastern route through the Shivering Passes to the tall eyries of Kathman, tell them of Torsts fate. It will not be an easy journey, but your respite at the Dzong must be short, for from there you need to head north west for a great distance, to the golden arch of Lions Gate. You will be safe for a time there. Additionally, I need you to carry my word."
The Elders eyes widened in surprise "Lions Gate?! Kathman will accept us, we share the same ancestors. But Lions Gate? Have you gone mad, Zammar? Don't you know of their policies?"
"I do."
"Then don't speak such nonsense."
"Kathman won't stand alone for long, and we need the Lions claw."
"Kathman is unconquerable, no army can reach the high eyrie and retain the strength to lay attack, you should know that. I cannot lead this village to Lions Gate, knowing that either we starve outside the walls or be speared by guards."
"This enemy takes to the skies as well, they can stop supply birds. Kathman will be starved. It will not be safe for long against this foe. But we need their aid, and I need you to enlist it. As for Lions Gate, you will need to tell them that I sent you, they should grant you audience then."
"What respect would the Lion have for you, Zammar? Your physical appearance does not match their requirements."
"It's unimportant." He reached into a pocket on the inside of his tunic and pulled out a dagger. A short golden blade was capped with an ornate hilt decorated with multiple jewels. In the dim glow of the lanterns, the dagger seemed to shine a light of its own. He handed it by the hilt to the elder, who took it cautiously his eyes entranced by its beauty.
"Show them this dagger, Gyasho. And remind them that a lion always pays his debts."
There was a lull as the elder pocketed the dagger carefully, he contemplated for a long moment before saying "Zammar, I trust you with my life. Though this is still insanity, I will do my best to get your word to them."
Tristan turned to stare out of the window, tenderly placing the kit into the pouch at his belt first. The finality of the meeting was starting to dawn on him. They were to leave this place, he felt a small burst of excitement. What would be out there, in the open world for him to see? What kinds of animals roam outside the mountain walls? What phenomenon of nature? Will they see a so called prairie? Or what about the sea, the salty lake that stretches to the end of the world?
Then he saw the tall plume of smoke rising from the mountains to the south, a reminder of the losses suffered and a warning of those to come. He looked towards the orphanage, Sangmu had taken Brenda Ansari there to clean her from blood and possibly provide a place to sleep. Tristans heart fluttered for a second, he'd be sharing a roof with her. Yet that look of pain and sorrow in her eyes, and the image of her, covered in blood, stabbing a juvenile repeatedly still haunted him. She must be from Torst, he decided. But then, how did she alone survive?
"You know, she's not a bad person." He jumped at the dazzling voice. Zammar was standing right next to him staring at the orphanage through the window.
"Who is she?" He asked tentatively.
A mischievous smile played across the handsome face. "Why, she's Brenda Ansari, queen of Torst."
Tristan choked. A queen! But she was so young! And she certainly did not dress like the queens from the old stories the elders had recited. A queen must love her city he realized. What must it have been like, to watch it and your subjects burn? "Does she have a king?" He asked quietly, to him self.
Zammar snorted a laugh, a most beautiful sound. "No King has sat on Torsts throne for nearly eight centuries now." A hint of sadness in his voice. Tristan replied with an awkward silence, he had not meant that to be heard. The man must have unreal hearing.
"I saw...a darkness in her eyes, she, I think she's run from the world." Tristan said, looking back at the muscular man, desperately avoiding eye contact. Those brown eyes were far too overbearing, he could not stand the sadness.
Zammar turned back out the window in silence. Finally, he said "Tristan, have you ever wanted to fight? In a war? Glory of combat and all that? A lot of boys your age dream of joining the heroes of old.
"No." The man turned back to look at him, his eyes cutting through Tristans skin. "I, I don't ever want to end a life." He paused, regaining the courage "but, I'll gladly lay down my own to protect a loved one."
Zammar smiled at him "what a pure child." He looked back out the window. "Brenda decided to forgo the traditional roles of women in times of war to fight. She took up arms in disguise, joining a reserve battalion as a noblemans son."
"Why? Why would a queen want to fight?"
"Well, she wasn't a queen back then, not really. But you know, she loved the city. Not just that, she loved what the city was meant to be and why it was formed. She was kind and compassionate Tristan, she couldn't sit back and let others fight, she had to be there too. She had something to protect with all her heart, so she did."
"The Und'kal, they did something horrible. She watched them kill the sons of her city, her friends and people. It was a terrible battle. War is never pretty Tristan, but those beasts did unimaginable things to brave men. It was a fight unlike any I have ever seen, far beyond the moral limitations that men carry. I saved her from certain death, maybe that would have been more bearable than seeing her beloved city burn though."
Tristan stood in silence, imagining the pain she must have suffered. If the people of this village were killed, he could not even imagine the sadness it would bring. "She has lost purpose." He whispered, conscious that Zammar was watching him.
"Indeed, she does not know what to make of her emotion, or how to handle the pain so she's retreated in a solitary shell." A pause, "Tristan, you must save her."
He shook his head in despair, remembering the green eyes devoid of all hope. "I can't. I can't understand her pain." He stammered, looking at Zammar "But you do, I can see that in your eyes."
Zammar looked away, out the window again. The very last rays of the suns light were leaving the world behind. In the dark twilight villagers noisily scrambled about, shouting and issuing orders at one another with no clear pattern. He saw Chodak hurtling across the window, a big pile of yak fur on his shoulder. It was surprising how calmly they had all accepted the life changing news. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had noticed the deadness in the air.
"I have lived a long time, Tristan. A very long time. Kingdoms have risen and fallen, kings conquer and kings conquered. Wars have been fought, and never have I seen one won. I have lost friends, family and loved ones, I have seen the best of humanity, but also suffered the worst. Alas my friend, I have seen too much. I...I can not help her. But I know you can, I've seen that in your eyes. In them, I see a remarkable gift."
Tristan did not understand a word the mighty man had said. Surely Zammar couldn't be much older than himself. He turned to ask him, but then the man was gone. He was alone in the elders hut.
He approached the queen quietly, taking off his own coat in the process. "Your majesty," he said, draping the coat across her shoulders and sitting on the cold ground next to her. She turned and looked at him for a moment, her face was blank. Surprised, Tristan thrust his eyes downwards, between his legs. He hadn't expected her to be conscious of her surroundings, why was she in the cold and staring off into the dead of night? When he looked back, she was looking away again.
The Elders eyes widened in surprise "Lions Gate?! Kathman will accept us, we share the same ancestors. But Lions Gate? Have you gone mad, Zammar? Don't you know of their policies?"
"I do."
"Then don't speak such nonsense."
"Kathman won't stand alone for long, and we need the Lions claw."
"Kathman is unconquerable, no army can reach the high eyrie and retain the strength to lay attack, you should know that. I cannot lead this village to Lions Gate, knowing that either we starve outside the walls or be speared by guards."
"This enemy takes to the skies as well, they can stop supply birds. Kathman will be starved. It will not be safe for long against this foe. But we need their aid, and I need you to enlist it. As for Lions Gate, you will need to tell them that I sent you, they should grant you audience then."
"What respect would the Lion have for you, Zammar? Your physical appearance does not match their requirements."
"It's unimportant." He reached into a pocket on the inside of his tunic and pulled out a dagger. A short golden blade was capped with an ornate hilt decorated with multiple jewels. In the dim glow of the lanterns, the dagger seemed to shine a light of its own. He handed it by the hilt to the elder, who took it cautiously his eyes entranced by its beauty.
"Show them this dagger, Gyasho. And remind them that a lion always pays his debts."
There was a lull as the elder pocketed the dagger carefully, he contemplated for a long moment before saying "Zammar, I trust you with my life. Though this is still insanity, I will do my best to get your word to them."
Tristan turned to stare out of the window, tenderly placing the kit into the pouch at his belt first. The finality of the meeting was starting to dawn on him. They were to leave this place, he felt a small burst of excitement. What would be out there, in the open world for him to see? What kinds of animals roam outside the mountain walls? What phenomenon of nature? Will they see a so called prairie? Or what about the sea, the salty lake that stretches to the end of the world?
Then he saw the tall plume of smoke rising from the mountains to the south, a reminder of the losses suffered and a warning of those to come. He looked towards the orphanage, Sangmu had taken Brenda Ansari there to clean her from blood and possibly provide a place to sleep. Tristans heart fluttered for a second, he'd be sharing a roof with her. Yet that look of pain and sorrow in her eyes, and the image of her, covered in blood, stabbing a juvenile repeatedly still haunted him. She must be from Torst, he decided. But then, how did she alone survive?
"You know, she's not a bad person." He jumped at the dazzling voice. Zammar was standing right next to him staring at the orphanage through the window.
"Who is she?" He asked tentatively.
A mischievous smile played across the handsome face. "Why, she's Brenda Ansari, queen of Torst."
Tristan choked. A queen! But she was so young! And she certainly did not dress like the queens from the old stories the elders had recited. A queen must love her city he realized. What must it have been like, to watch it and your subjects burn? "Does she have a king?" He asked quietly, to him self.
Zammar snorted a laugh, a most beautiful sound. "No King has sat on Torsts throne for nearly eight centuries now." A hint of sadness in his voice. Tristan replied with an awkward silence, he had not meant that to be heard. The man must have unreal hearing.
"I saw...a darkness in her eyes, she, I think she's run from the world." Tristan said, looking back at the muscular man, desperately avoiding eye contact. Those brown eyes were far too overbearing, he could not stand the sadness.
Zammar turned back out the window in silence. Finally, he said "Tristan, have you ever wanted to fight? In a war? Glory of combat and all that? A lot of boys your age dream of joining the heroes of old.
"No." The man turned back to look at him, his eyes cutting through Tristans skin. "I, I don't ever want to end a life." He paused, regaining the courage "but, I'll gladly lay down my own to protect a loved one."
Zammar smiled at him "what a pure child." He looked back out the window. "Brenda decided to forgo the traditional roles of women in times of war to fight. She took up arms in disguise, joining a reserve battalion as a noblemans son."
"Why? Why would a queen want to fight?"
"Well, she wasn't a queen back then, not really. But you know, she loved the city. Not just that, she loved what the city was meant to be and why it was formed. She was kind and compassionate Tristan, she couldn't sit back and let others fight, she had to be there too. She had something to protect with all her heart, so she did."
"The Und'kal, they did something horrible. She watched them kill the sons of her city, her friends and people. It was a terrible battle. War is never pretty Tristan, but those beasts did unimaginable things to brave men. It was a fight unlike any I have ever seen, far beyond the moral limitations that men carry. I saved her from certain death, maybe that would have been more bearable than seeing her beloved city burn though."
Tristan stood in silence, imagining the pain she must have suffered. If the people of this village were killed, he could not even imagine the sadness it would bring. "She has lost purpose." He whispered, conscious that Zammar was watching him.
"Indeed, she does not know what to make of her emotion, or how to handle the pain so she's retreated in a solitary shell." A pause, "Tristan, you must save her."
He shook his head in despair, remembering the green eyes devoid of all hope. "I can't. I can't understand her pain." He stammered, looking at Zammar "But you do, I can see that in your eyes."
Zammar looked away, out the window again. The very last rays of the suns light were leaving the world behind. In the dark twilight villagers noisily scrambled about, shouting and issuing orders at one another with no clear pattern. He saw Chodak hurtling across the window, a big pile of yak fur on his shoulder. It was surprising how calmly they had all accepted the life changing news. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had noticed the deadness in the air.
"I have lived a long time, Tristan. A very long time. Kingdoms have risen and fallen, kings conquer and kings conquered. Wars have been fought, and never have I seen one won. I have lost friends, family and loved ones, I have seen the best of humanity, but also suffered the worst. Alas my friend, I have seen too much. I...I can not help her. But I know you can, I've seen that in your eyes. In them, I see a remarkable gift."
Tristan did not understand a word the mighty man had said. Surely Zammar couldn't be much older than himself. He turned to ask him, but then the man was gone. He was alone in the elders hut.
*
Tristan found her later that evening, sitting with folded knees in the Cauliflower garden behind the orphanage. The cold night air rustled her hair gently. She was staring at the far tree line above the few huts in front. He was surprised that Sangmu hadn't given her one of the thick furred coats. But then, she was probably busy with preparations for departure and didn't really expect her guest to strafe outside.
He approached the queen quietly, taking off his own coat in the process. "Your majesty," he said, draping the coat across her shoulders and sitting on the cold ground next to her. She turned and looked at him for a moment, her face was blank. Surprised, Tristan thrust his eyes downwards, between his legs. He hadn't expected her to be conscious of her surroundings, why was she in the cold and staring off into the dead of night? When he looked back, she was looking away again.
They sat together in silence for near on half an hour. Tristan didn't really know what to say, but something told him that right now, he needed to be here. That she needed someone to be here. His mind drifted to thoughts of the creatures that had invaded her home. Zammar had said they came from another world amongst the stars. Did that mean that there were other worlds just like the one he was on? That this was not the end be all of everything? He felt his mind expand with the realization of possibilities. He imagined another world, one of pure fresh forests where rabbits ruled all, like men on this one. And one covered in vast seas, endless expanses of water that hid their infinite mysteries beneath the darkness of depth. And a world with two suns, that fought an eternal war of fire high in the sky, battling for the right to give the gift of life.
"Thanks." Her voice was a whisper, hardly audible over the wind as she huddled the coat tighter. Tristan smiled at the delayed response.
"Will you come with me?" She turned to look at him as he stood and reached his arm down. "I want to show you something." She took it gingerly and stared at it for a long moment before moving to get up. Her hand felt small in his, the palm was rough. Must be from training with a sword he decided, because the back felt supple. Slowly, he led her out of the village gates. Away from the panicked cries and shouting that roared through the small dirt paths and into the darkness of the night forest.
Once past the forest, the full moon had illuminated their journey up the cliff. But Tristan was set on a crag that jutted up and out from the center, and here the path was hidden in shaded darkness. Brenda, his royal queenish companion hadn't said a word since departing. In fact, neither had talked at all. Making the journey in complete silence to answer that given to them by the forest. He had noticed though, a tiny spark starting to come back in to her eyes, just as he had hoped. A physical journey was sure to distract her from the sadness, bring her out of the solitary shell if through nothing but sheer exertion and the requirement to concentrate.
She climbed up the edge of the giant rock and fell to her knees panting. "Don't worry, we're here now," Tristan said, smiling. He walked off of the boulder and onto the grassy plane that made up the top of the crag. It was large, with thick dewy grass complimented by rocky outcrops throughout. A single stream to the left tumbled far into a lake hidden by the forest trees below. His foot steps kicked up dandelion seeds, causing them to drift by virtue of the cool wind that carried them, like a miniature cloud, to lands unknown. "Come on, your majesty."
Turning around, he was quite stunned at the solemn beauty of the scene. She was standing facing away from him, with the wind rustling her hair and both arms clutched tightly to her chest. He went to stand by her side and followed her eyes. To the South, the giant pillar of smoke was visible even in the darkness. It blacked out the sky and seemed to rise endlessly. The immense mountain from the base of which it originated was cast black in a silhouette by the light of the moon, a somber sight. "Your majesty, come" he whispered, tentatively reaching for her hand. She pulled away suddenly at his touch and stared at him with big, scared eyes. Which then looked down at the outstretched hand, contemplating for a long moment before taking it.
Slowly, he turned and led her to the edge of the crag. There, smiling he watched as she stared out at the scene, her eyes growing larger by the second.
Lit by bright moonlight, the plateau stretched far to the horizon beneath them. Gently rolling hills dotted a landscape which, where it wasn't covered in alpine forests, was accentuated by rocky outcrops of many different shapes and colour. Directly beneath, the village forest stretched far, broken by streams that snaked between the trees on thin, carved paths. Following these led to small lakes, where black water reflected the bright moonlight in a display of mysterious beauty. In the distance, the powerful White River gushed Northwards, fed by the countless tributaries that trickled down from the Dragon Peaks to the south. Beyond it was a giant lake, with water so clear that even from this distance and in dark, Tristan could make out the moonlight reaching the shallow bottom, reflecting a turquoise glow over the bordering trees. To their right, a massive waterfall tumbled noiselessly from the cliff, falling into a deep dark ravine that stretched beneath a small portion of that cliff face.
Above the beautiful vista was a cloudless night sky, brimming with stars. Directly overhead, a giant milky path ran the length of the horizon. A passage to the heavens. Its destination hidden behind the sharp jagged peaks at the far end of the plateau, urging dreamers to follow into the depths of the unknown.
"You know, the world is a beautiful place." He paused to look towards the jagged peaks in the far distance. "Sometimes, it's easy to forget that." Slowly he took the queens hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And some times, we get so lost in the past that we forget to live. We forget our fortune, that we are still here and alive in this beautiful world." After a minute he turned back to her and was surprised to see a single tear slowly rolling down her cheek.
"It's gone," she whispered, turning to look at him with large sad eyes, her voice barely audible over the gentle breeze.
"Nothing is ever truly gone." He replied softly, looking back towards the column of smoke to the south. "Not as long as we remember, and believe." She had followed his gaze and was staring at the smoke. But Tristan had already noticed a change. She was sad, but no longer retreated in a solitary shell. She was finally fully aware of the implications of the events, and the present world around her.
"Look your majesty," he said pointing as a shooting star appeared from over top of the smoke column, streaking fast across the sky to the North. They followed its progress in awe as it disappeared beneath the far peaks across the plateau.
"I wish I was that star" he said aloud, "to fly, and look at the world from above. Can you not imagine what wonders are out there? Sometimes I wish to just walk, pick a direction and just walk. Beyond the White River, beyond those peaks in the distance. What beauty there must be! What kind of people live out there, what kind of animals? What about cities? Surely there must be amazing, beautiful cities full of culture and people!" He realized that he was getting carried away and stopped, blushing slightly.
Brenda was quiet for a moment, and then she pointed at the Northern star "If you kept walking there, you would reach the Kara sea at the end of the Whitelands...an entire sea frozen completely at this time of year, imagine flat planes of snow and ice as far as you can see." Her voice started slow and quiet, but it slowly grew more confident. "and there," she said pointing slightly Northwest "That's where the colourful domed minarets of Basils cathedral stand tall in the city of Muskow." She sounded almost excited now, "and there," pointing farther northwest "That's where the golden arch of Lions gate is!" She suddenly twisted fully to point to the Northeast "and there, in that mountain range, that's where the high eyrie of Kathman is! and if you keep going, you reach the oriental city of ShinXi...and beyond that is the Pacific ocean! Dark blue water that goes on and on, beyond the horizon, it would take years to cross it!"
She swiveled suddenly, her hair creating a short lived crescent. Pointing to the south west, "and that's where the blacklands are, first Kampalla...and then all the way in the distance, their capital...Kairo which rests on the delta of the River of life. She turned south erratically "and...Indus..." The impressive enthusiasm died suddenly as she gazed again at the smoke rising from Mount Romsdalen.
Tristan waited a moment, he had indeed enjoyed hearing about the world, though it just piqued his curiosity even more. The more important thing, was the clear happiness in her voice when she spoke of the wonders. It had a bell like quality. "So, is that why they call it the Whitelands?" She turned slowly to look at him, confused at the question.
"What?"
"The sea, that's frozen and covered in snow, is that why they call it the Whitelands? Because of the snow?"
She looked at him incredulously. "That's right...when I came to this village, you never did a whiteness test." There was ample curiosity and fascination in her voice now, creating a great contrast with the quiet whispering from before.
"What's a whiteness test?" He felt stupid for asking.
She stared at him again, a spark of wonder behind the green eyes. "Do you just accept any people that come to this area? Don't you have restrictions?"
"Well of course, there's lots of weary travelers that need to stay for a night. Some of them bring news and stories from far away. It's always fun when we have visitors."
"So it doesn't matter if their skin is black or white or brown or yellow?"
He was genuinely confused, why would the queen care about a mans skin colour? "No? I don't see why that would matter at all."
She was shaking her head with a wonderful smile and confused eyes. "That's beautiful." she whispered. Tristan didn't really understand, but seeing her smile sent his heart fluttering and he felt his face getting hot.
"I'm glad you like our village, your majesty."
A frown broke the alluring smile "why do you keep calling me that?"
"Sorry?"
""Your majesty," you've been calling me that for a while now." She was giving him a suspicious look now that he felt slightly intimidated by.
"Oh, sorry for offending you, your majesty, I mean your queenship. It's just that man, Zammar, he said you're the queen so I guess, I didn't, I had no idea what else to call you." He stumbled, staring at the ground in shame.
She made a noise of surprise, "he said what!?"
"That you're the queen of you know," he hesitated for a second, "of Torst."
She shook her head incredulously, "I can't believe it, Torst hasn't had a queen for centuries! And I'm not even royal, that man is crazy."
"I'm sorry your majesty, I mean queenship, I mean..."
"Please," she interrupted him by taking his right hand in both of hers and lifting it to chest height, "call me Ren."
As the morning sun started poking its head out from the top of the Eastern mountains, the shadows across the plateau began to retreat, casting it in a mix of light and darkness. The site was breathtaking as tributaries shaded in darkness fed the bright White river as it tumbled off into the distance. Suddenly, just when Tristan was once again lost in the majesty of the vista, Ren let out an audible gasp, "Tristan, your village!" He looked, there was a plume of smoke rising up from where the village was in the forest.
"Oh, it must be the morning fire." But then, upon closer inspection he noticed something, the smoke was thick, much thicker than the thin stream from the village fire, and it was black. Very black. Suddenly the smell of burning wood filled the air. Wide eyed he started shaking his head. Surely the village couldn't be on fire?
Ren grabbed his hand and began running back towards the forest, "Lets go," she yelled.
The hot air seemed scalding to his face as they approached the edge of the clearing cautiously. Beyond the treeline, he could see a blazing inferno raging where the village had once stood. His right arm was throbbing from where he had tripped and fell on a rock in his rush. He did not notice it, the pain was nothing next to the violent pounding of his heart. What if someone was trapped in the fire? He began to run, but a tug on the back of his tunic held him back. Ren shook her head sadly, and looked forward. That's when he saw it, a massive horde of creatures.
They must have been the fully developed versions of the one he had seen before. Standing at least ten feet tall, their talons were large, and the spikes adorning their joints were long and sharp. Silhouetted against the fire, they looked monstrously powerful. How many were there? But it was impossible to count, due to the speed at which they moved. They flew at a blazing speed into the inferno, jumping off the sides of the small huts and walls of the longhouses to reach the center. An endless stream poured out of the forest in front of the village gates, their screams of war were hardly audible over the inferno, but they plunged in without regard for the blaze. Was this an attempt at a fiery suicide? Why did they not emerge from the other side?
Tristan shook his head in wonder. How could any man be so powerful, and yet so good looking! But the enemy onslaught was unending, they just kept coming! So, why did Zammar not run? It seemed evident that the rest of the villagers had abandoned their homes, and Tristan hoped they had found safety. But Zammar still stood his ground. He squinted his eyes, looking for a reason behind the madness, surely if they were to allow the animals their instinct of destruction they would be left alone? Then he saw them. Two figures were huddled together behind Zammar, right at the center of the village. One was shielding the other from the fire. They must be villagers he realized with a pang of pain.
"No!" cried Ren, breaking his trance. All of a sudden, Zammar was surrounded. The enemies had broken in from the sides, between the huts and longhouses. And, unlike their predecessors they waited. Zammar was too busy fighting a smaller group to notice, but from the distance, Tristan could see the huge one forming around him . He noticed the large groups that had climbed on the longhouse roofs, ready to attack from above. Suddenly, as if by some signal, the entire group suddenly pounced just as he was in midswing. All of a sudden, Zammar was buried in bodies, then the groups from roof top too leaped down with their talons brandished. A massive pileup of enemies formed around the mighty man. Tristans eyes went large with shock and fear.
"NOOO," he barely had time to grab Rens hand before she had run. Tears were streaming from her eyes. Tristan struggled to hold her, he grasped her around the waist with both arms to stop her, but still she jerked. "LET ME GO,"
"Stop" he whispered, "there's nothing you can do!"
"NOO! PLEASE!" But he held steady. The creatures at the top of the pileup was desperately grappling deeper into it, the ones on the outside were starting to get impatient. How many animals thick was this massive dome? The entire scene seemed to play out in slowed state of time. As Ren struggled desperately against him, his senses dulled and the world seemed to spin. How could this be happening?
Suddenly a loud boom ripped through the air, and rows of the enemy were thrown into the air. Tristan felt his grip on Ren loosen in surprise, and he blushed realizing the fact that he was holding her waist.
Then, he noticed that the huge dome of enemies had started moving! The entire thing was turning, twisting in a large circle as the creatures were suddenly lifted off the ground. The distances between them grew larger, and the fire around the village was pushed back by a strong wind. Tristan felt the hot air blaze across his face. He struggled forward against it to shield Ren, and she peeked over his shoulder. The trees all around them were thrown into a violent frenzy as leaves started catching fire and instantly burning, falling to the ground in a crisp.
All of a sudden, with a loud volcanic explosion, the animals that had made the tip of the dome were violently thrown out. They were absolutely still, having been completely charred by what erupted from beneath. For in explosive fury, a giant wall of fire reached high to the sky. Like the flaming fury of an angry god, it rose from the ground in a violent swirl of absolute conflagration. A cyclone created by the generation of insane rotational winds in midst an inferno, the surrounding forest was instantly lit up by the bright orange light of the fire.
The dome of enemies had completely lost its structural integrity, now they all floated, joining the debris from the broken village in the tumultuous wind. The entire cyclone was bordered in fire, generating an unreal heat. And at its base, right in the center was a rapidly rotating figure, a blur of red. It took Tristan a few seconds of intense staring against the bright light before the picture of Zammar, with the great sword outstretched and spinning in a furious whirlwind on his toes, became clear. His tattered scarlet cloak, a deeper red than the surrounding fire, gave the impression of an insanely powerful flame at the eye of the storm. The twister above him filled with what must have been hundreds of bodies, none of the animals were struggling or moving, having been cooked alive by blazing hot air. Nothing could be heard above the powerful gust of the hot wind. Nothing except the speed with which Zammar and his blade cut through the air, a loud, fast thumping.
Slowly, he started moving forwards, towards the village gates where the enemies had come from. Tristan realized why, looking at the two huddled figures behind him, they were still distant from the giant fiery twister, as Zammar had moved forwards into the main road before being surrounded, but he doubted it was a comfortable position. The enemies had stopped now at the gate, and were looking up at the giant, fast approaching wall of fire with great apprehension and fear. Suddenly they turned and started running back into the forest. Not all made it. As the fiery storm approached the meager fence, those too slow to turn and run were sucked in by the violent winds. They joined their comrades in instant death.
A minute afterwards, for which the cyclone had stood still by the village gates, or the nothing that was left of them anyway, it stopped. Just as suddenly as it had started, the winds died down. Tristan looked at Zammar with big eyes, just as he braked his final spin in a semi twist. His cloak slowly wound back around to cover the muscular back, and his sword glowed a hot red. Then the bodies started falling. With loud, violent thuds, countless bodies started landing on the ground around him violently. They formed giant piles mingled with wood from the huts that had been completely eradicated and entire burned trees that had been uprooted. There was no major order to the fall, for each body had been thrown off in different directions by the wind. However, the majority of them formed an almost circle around Zammar, as he stood up slowly, sheathing the greatsword across his back and walked back into the village, into the inferno.
"Look!" Ren shouted from behind Tristan. He followed her finger, which pointed to the forest on the opposite side of the village gate. The relative darkness made it hard for him to make out anything after staring so intently at the fire, but slowly he made out figures ambling out from the underbrush.
"The villagers!" He grabbed her hand and jumped across the bush in front of them to run across the clearing to where they were. He was panting when he arrived. This close to the flames, the hot air was incredibly hard to breath. It scalded his lungs almost as much as his face. Sweat was running profusely from every orifice on his body. How could Zammar have survived, yet alone fight in a heat even greater than this? And what about that cyclone, it must have been blazing hot inside. He didn't want to think about the other two figures.
Chodak had stepped forward slowly and was standing closer than anyone to the village, staring intently inside. Only the men of the village had come, and he profusely noticed that Tenzin was not amongst them.
"Ah, good, we were worried about you." Elder Gyasho said, looking at Tristan who nodded and then turned to the fire.
"But really, that was...something." Sonam had stepped forward, his grim voice breaking the silence that had fallen over the small group as they watched their home burn.
"Yep," replied Elder Gyasho.
"That man..." began Tshering
"Yep." replied Gyasho again.
"What of the women and children, and Tenzin?" Tristan asked the men.
"The women are okay," replied Sonam, "That man," he paused, "that incredible man saw them coming somehow, so he made us retreat into the forest. I think he meant to lead them away from the village himself. The women and children are in the sacred caves. They should be okay, we came back out to see if it was safe."
"And Tenzin?" Tristan pushed, knowing the answer.
"He came back for Pema, she must have gotten lost in the confusion or something because she wasn't with us when we roll called at the cave." Tshering replied glumly, looking at the back of Chodak who was still staring intently at the fire. They all joined him. The entire group prayed in solemn silence to the village gods, Tristan felt Ren squeezing his hand gently.
The wait felt eternally long. He knew it was less than a minute, but the seconds ticked slowly, exceptionally so. Finally, the silhouetted figure of the great man appeared, with the cape blowing in the wind he walked slowly out of the fire and into the clearing, cradling two people in his muscular arms. No one moved an inch, watching in utter fascination and respect, until he stood by the side of Chodak. There, the man gently laid Pema and Tenzin on the ground. Then, as if some greatly difficult task had been accomplished, he collapsed on his knees. His mighty body sending a resounding thud through the ground and through Tristans bones.
"Zammar!" Ren yelled, running forward to support him, a single tear was flowing down her face. Tristan noticed the look of concern, admiration and love on her face as she slowly heaved the muscular arm around her own shoulder and knelt by his side. It hurt. He felt an actual physical pain by his heart, a pang of jealousy shot through his body. Would she cry for me? He wondered. But somewhere deep down, he knew. He knew after seeing the incredible display of combat proficiency, and the care with which Zammar had carried two strangers out of an inferno of fire. He knew, that he himself was no competition.
"I'm getting to old for this," Zammar grunted. He was remarkably unscarred, a few shallow cuts across his bare chest showed, but there weren't even any burns. His muscular calves were covered in black soot, which also clogged his hair, yet the rest of his body displayed nothing but a layer of sweat that glimmered attractively in the fiery light. He gave a weak smile to Ren, who was looking at him with that same loving look. "Did I make you worry? sorry." Then his face grew serious and again he looked towards where Pema and Tenzin were. Unbuckling his arm from around Ren, he began to reach forward "I'm...sorry." Then just like that, he collapsed fully to the ground. Tristan looked only long enough to make sure he was still breathing before turning to gaze at the two rescued villagers.
The entire group had gathered around. Pema looked okay, she was being helped up by Tshering. Black soot covered her face and brown hair, and many small burn marks were visible across her bare arms. She was coughing and crying uncontrollably, looking down at Tenzin. Tristan took a deep breath to steel himself before following her gaze.
Tenzin was lying on his side in a fetal position, his hair had been completely burned off, black soot covered the bald head. His entire torso was covered in severe burn marks, which continued down his legs. But it was his back that horrified Tristan the most. The fire had raged unchecked over it as he had protected Pema from its heat. Across the back, melted skin had drooped and created strange wavelike patterns, an entire column of his spine was visible, sticking up from the lifeless skin that clung to it hopelessly. His legs had been absolutely scorched, burned bones were clearly visible where his calves were meant to be, connecting to a charred thigh where the skin was still drooping to the ground followed by sizzling blood.
His breathing was remarkably erratic, he wheezed and coughed and gasped desperately for air. Chodak held his hand, shaking his head as tears made their slow passage across his broad face. "You can't go," he whispered, "Pema needs you, I need you, please! We have so much to do! We were going to go beyond the White River remember? We were going to hunt the great bear remember? Come on Ten!" He was replied to by violent coughing and then gasping for breath.
"S...sor..sorry Cho..." And then the breathing stopped. It was met by silence from all but Pema who now wept incredulously. A long pause, before the sudden anguished cry of Chodaks sadness filled the night air. Tristan felt the tears streaming down his face. He had known Tenzin for all his life, never had someone so loved by him passed, and so tragically and young too. Furthermore, he knew the implications of Tenzins death.
It started to rain. Dark clouds overhead, combined with the massive plume of black smoke had completely blocked the morning sun. Slowly the fire that had completely destroyed the village, their beloved home, and taken the life of his friend, began to die down. As it lulled in a silent and anticlimactic fashion, Tristan knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
Long minutes passed before Chodak calmed. The conviction in his eyes was great as he slowly got up. "Cho, please, you don't have to do this." Tristan said, stepping forward. He was stopped by the thin, wrinkled old arm of Elder Gyasho.
"Tristan, this is our way." The solemn seriousness in his voice caused him to back down, he looked around the group. All of the men wore somber expressions, many sported dried tears. Pema was crying profusely but silently. They all stood in a circle around Chodak and Tenzin. All of them had accepted, easily enough, what was to come. He felt a soft squeeze of his hand, and felt relieved to see that Ren was standing by his side now.
Circling the still body of Tenzin, Chodak began to sing. It was a beautiful song, one that he had known all his life. His deep throaty voice carried across the clearing, through the silent pattering of rain. It was a song of brothers. It spoke of the joys and love that two people could share,of the unbreakable bond that was forged between brothers. It spoke of a friendship between men so strong, that it would transcend lifetimes. How even death would not, could not tear apart the bond of brotherhood. The song was long. It was happy, and it was sad. It brought an endless stream of tears to Tristans eyes, and a flood of memories, happy memories.
Neither of them had been like him, he realized. They were so different, with full families, their heritage ingrained deep in the village roots. Yet, they had treated him like a loved friend. They had played with him in the yawning years of his childhood, and he had watched as their friendship grew, into something beautiful. He had sat back, and envied their brotherhood as it fostered from youth. He remembered, when Chodaks mother had tragically passed by virtue of the pox. He had been inconsolable then, until Tenzin took him by the hand and together they had walked far into the forest, from which they returned days later with massive grins. Tristan remembered, he had cheered with the rest of the village as the two returned triumphant from their trials of manhood. That wasn't even that long ago, but the look of joy and accomplishment on their faces as they drunk the drink of men for the first time was one he would never forget.
The song came to a beautiful end, and Chodak fell on his knees above the body of Tenzin. The group of villagers began to chant, a slow and melancholy chant that echoed off the scarred trees. Tristan did not join, it was not his place to do so. Chodak reached slowly to his belt and pulled out a dagger. Tristan wanted to look away, but to do so would dishonour the memory of his friends. So instead, he watched with tear stained eyes as the dagger was raised high and in front of Chodaks chest. Then, with a sudden lurch, thrust straight into his own heart.
"I am so sorry, Gyasho. Two of your own were lost because I failed to protect them."
"Tenzin decided on his own to run to the village, and Pema got lost because she's just clumsy like that. I will never hold it against you for risking your life to safeguard them. But please, if there is something, anything I can do to repay the favour."
"Then, I implore you, to listen to my counsel. Please, Gyasho. Make way to Kathman, and then to Lions Gate. They must heed the desperate plea of the Blacklands."
The Elder looked solemn, "I will do my best old friend, but with the Lion...I hold no promises."
"Your best will always suffice for me."
The two embraced each other, Zammars massive bulk completely hiding the tiny elder.
"What of you, Zammar. What will you do now?"
"I must head West, to the Blacklands. Let us hope that Kampalla still stands tall and ready."
"Elder, I will join them in their quest." Tristan interjected hurriedly.
The elder looked at him calmly, his ancient eyes examining Tristans every detail before he spoke. "Very well, Tristan. You have been a beloved son to our village, I know that Sangmu will be sad. Stay safe."
"Thank you, Elder, please tell Sangmu that no words can describe my appreciation for how well she looked after me." Tristans caretaker had joined the scouting party that had ventured out to the White River to ensure the enemy had not reached there, in place of her much younger brother - Chodak.
"Then, take my blessing, and I hope you find what you're looking for, Tristan." The elder ambled over to him, and Tristan kneeled to receive the quietly muttered blessing. After which, there were no more words to be said.
Zammar and Ren seemed to have left him in privacy for the few moments he had with the elder. When he turned, they were standing at the Western edge of the clearing, waiting for him. He turned his back on the busy villagers, and slowly walked towards the smiling face of Ren, and the muscular might of Zammar.
Authors Note:
Alright, so I know it was a bit late, but I am glad to say that part two of this epic saga is FINALLY completed!
This one was really hard for me to write, which is kindve funny because I feel like the writing is a lot better (still lots of room to improve). And apologies for the many mistakes of grammar that I am sure are abundant. Unfortunately, I have not the stamina to edit this again, and a rest is unacceptable seeing how late it already is :D
There is a lot less content than part one, and I opted to go for more of a story about the characters. The plan was to make this significantly shorter than part one, I was aiming for half the length. Well, that didn't happen! But I also didn't want to cut corners, so I wrote it out as well as I felt I should have.
Once again, I hope that if you took the time to read this, that you also take the time to tell me what you think. (Please do!) Predictions, opinions on the story, characters, universe and etc. are all stuff that I will feed off of happily :)
Once again, a bunch of call outs that I hope someone catches :D
Thanks a lot for reading, please get back to me with your opinions and look forward to part 3
Where will Zammar the Greats adventures take him next!?
"Thanks." Her voice was a whisper, hardly audible over the wind as she huddled the coat tighter. Tristan smiled at the delayed response.
"Will you come with me?" She turned to look at him as he stood and reached his arm down. "I want to show you something." She took it gingerly and stared at it for a long moment before moving to get up. Her hand felt small in his, the palm was rough. Must be from training with a sword he decided, because the back felt supple. Slowly, he led her out of the village gates. Away from the panicked cries and shouting that roared through the small dirt paths and into the darkness of the night forest.
*
Tristan clambered up the final boulder that had stood thrice his height when he was at the base, almost losing his hold in the dark. He turned, reaching back down to lend a hand to Brenda. Traversing the forest in the dark had been more challenging than he had initially anticipated. Tall trees had blocked the moon, completely hiding the narrow paths that he alone had used before. They stumbled often over small rocks and tripped painfully over roots, but trusting his instincts and memories had gotten them up to the tall rocky region at the edge of the forest, just a few hundred meters from the village. The village itself was nestled in the side of a crescent formed by a tall rocky cliff that capped the end of the large plateau.Once past the forest, the full moon had illuminated their journey up the cliff. But Tristan was set on a crag that jutted up and out from the center, and here the path was hidden in shaded darkness. Brenda, his royal queenish companion hadn't said a word since departing. In fact, neither had talked at all. Making the journey in complete silence to answer that given to them by the forest. He had noticed though, a tiny spark starting to come back in to her eyes, just as he had hoped. A physical journey was sure to distract her from the sadness, bring her out of the solitary shell if through nothing but sheer exertion and the requirement to concentrate.
She climbed up the edge of the giant rock and fell to her knees panting. "Don't worry, we're here now," Tristan said, smiling. He walked off of the boulder and onto the grassy plane that made up the top of the crag. It was large, with thick dewy grass complimented by rocky outcrops throughout. A single stream to the left tumbled far into a lake hidden by the forest trees below. His foot steps kicked up dandelion seeds, causing them to drift by virtue of the cool wind that carried them, like a miniature cloud, to lands unknown. "Come on, your majesty."
Turning around, he was quite stunned at the solemn beauty of the scene. She was standing facing away from him, with the wind rustling her hair and both arms clutched tightly to her chest. He went to stand by her side and followed her eyes. To the South, the giant pillar of smoke was visible even in the darkness. It blacked out the sky and seemed to rise endlessly. The immense mountain from the base of which it originated was cast black in a silhouette by the light of the moon, a somber sight. "Your majesty, come" he whispered, tentatively reaching for her hand. She pulled away suddenly at his touch and stared at him with big, scared eyes. Which then looked down at the outstretched hand, contemplating for a long moment before taking it.
Slowly, he turned and led her to the edge of the crag. There, smiling he watched as she stared out at the scene, her eyes growing larger by the second.
Lit by bright moonlight, the plateau stretched far to the horizon beneath them. Gently rolling hills dotted a landscape which, where it wasn't covered in alpine forests, was accentuated by rocky outcrops of many different shapes and colour. Directly beneath, the village forest stretched far, broken by streams that snaked between the trees on thin, carved paths. Following these led to small lakes, where black water reflected the bright moonlight in a display of mysterious beauty. In the distance, the powerful White River gushed Northwards, fed by the countless tributaries that trickled down from the Dragon Peaks to the south. Beyond it was a giant lake, with water so clear that even from this distance and in dark, Tristan could make out the moonlight reaching the shallow bottom, reflecting a turquoise glow over the bordering trees. To their right, a massive waterfall tumbled noiselessly from the cliff, falling into a deep dark ravine that stretched beneath a small portion of that cliff face.
Above the beautiful vista was a cloudless night sky, brimming with stars. Directly overhead, a giant milky path ran the length of the horizon. A passage to the heavens. Its destination hidden behind the sharp jagged peaks at the far end of the plateau, urging dreamers to follow into the depths of the unknown.
"You know, the world is a beautiful place." He paused to look towards the jagged peaks in the far distance. "Sometimes, it's easy to forget that." Slowly he took the queens hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And some times, we get so lost in the past that we forget to live. We forget our fortune, that we are still here and alive in this beautiful world." After a minute he turned back to her and was surprised to see a single tear slowly rolling down her cheek.
"It's gone," she whispered, turning to look at him with large sad eyes, her voice barely audible over the gentle breeze.
"Nothing is ever truly gone." He replied softly, looking back towards the column of smoke to the south. "Not as long as we remember, and believe." She had followed his gaze and was staring at the smoke. But Tristan had already noticed a change. She was sad, but no longer retreated in a solitary shell. She was finally fully aware of the implications of the events, and the present world around her.
"Look your majesty," he said pointing as a shooting star appeared from over top of the smoke column, streaking fast across the sky to the North. They followed its progress in awe as it disappeared beneath the far peaks across the plateau.
"I wish I was that star" he said aloud, "to fly, and look at the world from above. Can you not imagine what wonders are out there? Sometimes I wish to just walk, pick a direction and just walk. Beyond the White River, beyond those peaks in the distance. What beauty there must be! What kind of people live out there, what kind of animals? What about cities? Surely there must be amazing, beautiful cities full of culture and people!" He realized that he was getting carried away and stopped, blushing slightly.
Brenda was quiet for a moment, and then she pointed at the Northern star "If you kept walking there, you would reach the Kara sea at the end of the Whitelands...an entire sea frozen completely at this time of year, imagine flat planes of snow and ice as far as you can see." Her voice started slow and quiet, but it slowly grew more confident. "and there," she said pointing slightly Northwest "That's where the colourful domed minarets of Basils cathedral stand tall in the city of Muskow." She sounded almost excited now, "and there," pointing farther northwest "That's where the golden arch of Lions gate is!" She suddenly twisted fully to point to the Northeast "and there, in that mountain range, that's where the high eyrie of Kathman is! and if you keep going, you reach the oriental city of ShinXi...and beyond that is the Pacific ocean! Dark blue water that goes on and on, beyond the horizon, it would take years to cross it!"
She swiveled suddenly, her hair creating a short lived crescent. Pointing to the south west, "and that's where the blacklands are, first Kampalla...and then all the way in the distance, their capital...Kairo which rests on the delta of the River of life. She turned south erratically "and...Indus..." The impressive enthusiasm died suddenly as she gazed again at the smoke rising from Mount Romsdalen.
Tristan waited a moment, he had indeed enjoyed hearing about the world, though it just piqued his curiosity even more. The more important thing, was the clear happiness in her voice when she spoke of the wonders. It had a bell like quality. "So, is that why they call it the Whitelands?" She turned slowly to look at him, confused at the question.
"What?"
"The sea, that's frozen and covered in snow, is that why they call it the Whitelands? Because of the snow?"
She looked at him incredulously. "That's right...when I came to this village, you never did a whiteness test." There was ample curiosity and fascination in her voice now, creating a great contrast with the quiet whispering from before.
"What's a whiteness test?" He felt stupid for asking.
She stared at him again, a spark of wonder behind the green eyes. "Do you just accept any people that come to this area? Don't you have restrictions?"
"Well of course, there's lots of weary travelers that need to stay for a night. Some of them bring news and stories from far away. It's always fun when we have visitors."
"So it doesn't matter if their skin is black or white or brown or yellow?"
He was genuinely confused, why would the queen care about a mans skin colour? "No? I don't see why that would matter at all."
She was shaking her head with a wonderful smile and confused eyes. "That's beautiful." she whispered. Tristan didn't really understand, but seeing her smile sent his heart fluttering and he felt his face getting hot.
"I'm glad you like our village, your majesty."
A frown broke the alluring smile "why do you keep calling me that?"
"Sorry?"
""Your majesty," you've been calling me that for a while now." She was giving him a suspicious look now that he felt slightly intimidated by.
"Oh, sorry for offending you, your majesty, I mean your queenship. It's just that man, Zammar, he said you're the queen so I guess, I didn't, I had no idea what else to call you." He stumbled, staring at the ground in shame.
She made a noise of surprise, "he said what!?"
"That you're the queen of you know," he hesitated for a second, "of Torst."
She shook her head incredulously, "I can't believe it, Torst hasn't had a queen for centuries! And I'm not even royal, that man is crazy."
"I'm sorry your majesty, I mean queenship, I mean..."
"Please," she interrupted him by taking his right hand in both of hers and lifting it to chest height, "call me Ren."
*
"My parents came from somewhere out there," he said, gesturing beyond the magnificent site beneath him. They had been sitting side by side at the crags edge for over an hour now, talking. Tristan had been surprised by how right Zammar was in his assesment of Ren. She truly was compassionate, and caring. She listened to him without interruption and answered his stories with genuine interest. But despite his intense curiosity, he hesitated to ask her of her own past, for fear that she would again retreat by virtue of memories of her beloved city. So, he told her the village stories, and described what life on the plateau was like.
"Sangmu said that they stayed at the village for several weeks. I was already in this world by then, apparently they had shaved my head before coming here, so I was a really ugly baby! But then they let it grow and then I was cuter. Then one day, just when the village thought it would have new family members, they left me in Sangmu's care and left." He sat back on his hands and looked up at the stars. "I've always believed that they wanted to explore the world, so it's okay. I'm happy I didn't hold them back. Besides, I love this village, and these mountains. I have a large family now, and many friends in the forests. But still, I would like to meet them some day.
Ren was looking at him, was it sadness in her eyes? But then she smiled. "Tristan. Tristan, it's a lovely name." A moments pause, "do you know where it came from?" He shook his head and she smiled again.
"Have you ever heard the tale of Tristan de Lyones?" He shook his head again, resulting in a pearly laughter.
"Well, legend goes that a long time ago, on an island in the Whitelands named Albion, there ruled a great king. He was just, and well loved by his subjects. He protected them you see, from all of the great evils and his leadership was infallible. For counsel he housed a round table of twenty five of his favorite knights. And, one of those knights was a man named Ser Tristan."
"A knight! What happened to him?"
A giggle, "Well, I don't want to spoil the story too much," she teased. "But, he went on a grand adventure for his uncle. Then, on the adventure he met a lady and they fell in love." She said, giving him a sly wink.
His heart fluttered. He glanced at her silky black hair and the skin of her neck that showed when the wind blew it. She was looking out at the stars now, something about her eyes had suddenly got melancholy. The smell of her hair was intoxicating as the wind wafted it over his way. "Was she beautiful?" he managed to whisper.
She turned to look at him quizzically and then laughed that pearly laughter again. "Well of course! It wouldn't be a good story if she wasn't the most beautiful lady he'd ever seen!"
The first rays of the rising sun had begun to silhouette the mountains to the East against a dark blue sky, reminding Tristan of another task he must now undertake. Reaching to his belt, he unhooked the glass bottle of goat milk. Then, gently he reached into the pouch and took out the little kit. Normally it would need to feed more often, but he knew that goats milk was a fair bit thicker than that of a vixen. So he was dividing the feeding periods appropriately. The dark fur was warm against his bare hand, as it started to suckle on the bottle. Ren turned to look curiously at the noise.
"Oh my, what's this little guy doing here?"
"He's alone in this world, so I'm taking care of him," Tristan smiled as she stroked the fur gently.
"What's his name?"
"Name? why would he have a name?"
"Why wouldn't he!? Don't you name your pets?"
Tristan was genuinely surprised, "but names are for people, places, and gods." He watched her small hand gently moving up and down the small body. "The village has a god in the shape of a fox you know. He is the god of cunning and thievery...So everyone seems to think that the foxes in the forest are the same. But, I believe they are beautiful and intelligent. You know, just like people there's something beautiful in every animal."
She was looking at him then, and he knew she had missed his point. "Do you believe in the god?"
There was a long pause before he replied, "Like I said, I'm not from these parts, Ren. These are not my gods, they do not protect me. They belong to the village, their power is in this forest and for its people. Maybe some day I'll find my own, the gods of my ancestors." He gave her a small smile then, feeling that same sense of isolation and of being left out that he had felt since his youth.
As the morning sun started poking its head out from the top of the Eastern mountains, the shadows across the plateau began to retreat, casting it in a mix of light and darkness. The site was breathtaking as tributaries shaded in darkness fed the bright White river as it tumbled off into the distance. Suddenly, just when Tristan was once again lost in the majesty of the vista, Ren let out an audible gasp, "Tristan, your village!" He looked, there was a plume of smoke rising up from where the village was in the forest.
"Oh, it must be the morning fire." But then, upon closer inspection he noticed something, the smoke was thick, much thicker than the thin stream from the village fire, and it was black. Very black. Suddenly the smell of burning wood filled the air. Wide eyed he started shaking his head. Surely the village couldn't be on fire?
Ren grabbed his hand and began running back towards the forest, "Lets go," she yelled.
*
They must have been the fully developed versions of the one he had seen before. Standing at least ten feet tall, their talons were large, and the spikes adorning their joints were long and sharp. Silhouetted against the fire, they looked monstrously powerful. How many were there? But it was impossible to count, due to the speed at which they moved. They flew at a blazing speed into the inferno, jumping off the sides of the small huts and walls of the longhouses to reach the center. An endless stream poured out of the forest in front of the village gates, their screams of war were hardly audible over the inferno, but they plunged in without regard for the blaze. Was this an attempt at a fiery suicide? Why did they not emerge from the other side?
He turned back to Ren, casting the left side of his face in the cool of the forest air while the right continued to be lit by the fire. Her eyes had grown large with fear, she truly was scared of these animals. What had they done to her? What had she seen? Her fear instilled within him a new fear, but also an urge to protect her from whatever caused the pain. She looked at him and whispered "Zammar," pointing to eye of the hellfire.
Staring at the center, his eyes soon began to water from the heat. But slowly, they began to make out a figure. The silhouette of a large man, with a giant greatsword in his hand. Then all of the scene started clearing, the shapes of the unreal creatures charged, rebounding off the sides of the walls and galloping across the narrow village pathways to leap at him, their large talons primed for death. He swung the massive sword easily, meeting the onslaught of enemies with convicted zeal. Watching him fight was mesmerizing.
He surged into the air to meet an enemy that was bearing down on him, while dodging his body to the right to avoid another that had leaped past. In a graceful arc, the sword in his hand swung through the fiery air, slicing the first enemy in half before completing the motion beneath him as he swung his body over top of the blade, to easily slice the head of the second enemy in two. He landed on his feet in a semi squat from which he pounced, bringing the sword from behind in a long arc that cleaved the four or five new creatures that had appeared in front. Using the momentum of the arc, he twisted his body and redirected the sword upwards to the new enemy that had jumped from behind the others. As the blade slashed clean through the body, he somersaulted backwards, bringing the sword to cut through the enemy that had gained station beneath him from the groin up. The entire sequence had taken less than a few seconds.
The speed and agility with which the mighty man moved was incredible. Even now, as he swung the sword with one hand in an arc to his right eliminating an entire group of foes, his left knee came up to meet the enemy that had approached to his left, connecting at the base of its thick neck. A head flew off into the inferno. He hooked the leg to side of the unmoving body, swinging it back to his right and moving in the opposite direction himself, so that the new enemy that had appeared found his talons caught in the body of his ally before the greatsword swung from behind to take off its head.
Staring at the center, his eyes soon began to water from the heat. But slowly, they began to make out a figure. The silhouette of a large man, with a giant greatsword in his hand. Then all of the scene started clearing, the shapes of the unreal creatures charged, rebounding off the sides of the walls and galloping across the narrow village pathways to leap at him, their large talons primed for death. He swung the massive sword easily, meeting the onslaught of enemies with convicted zeal. Watching him fight was mesmerizing.
He surged into the air to meet an enemy that was bearing down on him, while dodging his body to the right to avoid another that had leaped past. In a graceful arc, the sword in his hand swung through the fiery air, slicing the first enemy in half before completing the motion beneath him as he swung his body over top of the blade, to easily slice the head of the second enemy in two. He landed on his feet in a semi squat from which he pounced, bringing the sword from behind in a long arc that cleaved the four or five new creatures that had appeared in front. Using the momentum of the arc, he twisted his body and redirected the sword upwards to the new enemy that had jumped from behind the others. As the blade slashed clean through the body, he somersaulted backwards, bringing the sword to cut through the enemy that had gained station beneath him from the groin up. The entire sequence had taken less than a few seconds.
The speed and agility with which the mighty man moved was incredible. Even now, as he swung the sword with one hand in an arc to his right eliminating an entire group of foes, his left knee came up to meet the enemy that had approached to his left, connecting at the base of its thick neck. A head flew off into the inferno. He hooked the leg to side of the unmoving body, swinging it back to his right and moving in the opposite direction himself, so that the new enemy that had appeared found his talons caught in the body of his ally before the greatsword swung from behind to take off its head.
Tristan shook his head in wonder. How could any man be so powerful, and yet so good looking! But the enemy onslaught was unending, they just kept coming! So, why did Zammar not run? It seemed evident that the rest of the villagers had abandoned their homes, and Tristan hoped they had found safety. But Zammar still stood his ground. He squinted his eyes, looking for a reason behind the madness, surely if they were to allow the animals their instinct of destruction they would be left alone? Then he saw them. Two figures were huddled together behind Zammar, right at the center of the village. One was shielding the other from the fire. They must be villagers he realized with a pang of pain.
"No!" cried Ren, breaking his trance. All of a sudden, Zammar was surrounded. The enemies had broken in from the sides, between the huts and longhouses. And, unlike their predecessors they waited. Zammar was too busy fighting a smaller group to notice, but from the distance, Tristan could see the huge one forming around him . He noticed the large groups that had climbed on the longhouse roofs, ready to attack from above. Suddenly, as if by some signal, the entire group suddenly pounced just as he was in midswing. All of a sudden, Zammar was buried in bodies, then the groups from roof top too leaped down with their talons brandished. A massive pileup of enemies formed around the mighty man. Tristans eyes went large with shock and fear.
"NOOO," he barely had time to grab Rens hand before she had run. Tears were streaming from her eyes. Tristan struggled to hold her, he grasped her around the waist with both arms to stop her, but still she jerked. "LET ME GO,"
"Stop" he whispered, "there's nothing you can do!"
"NOO! PLEASE!" But he held steady. The creatures at the top of the pileup was desperately grappling deeper into it, the ones on the outside were starting to get impatient. How many animals thick was this massive dome? The entire scene seemed to play out in slowed state of time. As Ren struggled desperately against him, his senses dulled and the world seemed to spin. How could this be happening?
Suddenly a loud boom ripped through the air, and rows of the enemy were thrown into the air. Tristan felt his grip on Ren loosen in surprise, and he blushed realizing the fact that he was holding her waist.
Then, he noticed that the huge dome of enemies had started moving! The entire thing was turning, twisting in a large circle as the creatures were suddenly lifted off the ground. The distances between them grew larger, and the fire around the village was pushed back by a strong wind. Tristan felt the hot air blaze across his face. He struggled forward against it to shield Ren, and she peeked over his shoulder. The trees all around them were thrown into a violent frenzy as leaves started catching fire and instantly burning, falling to the ground in a crisp.
All of a sudden, with a loud volcanic explosion, the animals that had made the tip of the dome were violently thrown out. They were absolutely still, having been completely charred by what erupted from beneath. For in explosive fury, a giant wall of fire reached high to the sky. Like the flaming fury of an angry god, it rose from the ground in a violent swirl of absolute conflagration. A cyclone created by the generation of insane rotational winds in midst an inferno, the surrounding forest was instantly lit up by the bright orange light of the fire.
The dome of enemies had completely lost its structural integrity, now they all floated, joining the debris from the broken village in the tumultuous wind. The entire cyclone was bordered in fire, generating an unreal heat. And at its base, right in the center was a rapidly rotating figure, a blur of red. It took Tristan a few seconds of intense staring against the bright light before the picture of Zammar, with the great sword outstretched and spinning in a furious whirlwind on his toes, became clear. His tattered scarlet cloak, a deeper red than the surrounding fire, gave the impression of an insanely powerful flame at the eye of the storm. The twister above him filled with what must have been hundreds of bodies, none of the animals were struggling or moving, having been cooked alive by blazing hot air. Nothing could be heard above the powerful gust of the hot wind. Nothing except the speed with which Zammar and his blade cut through the air, a loud, fast thumping.
Slowly, he started moving forwards, towards the village gates where the enemies had come from. Tristan realized why, looking at the two huddled figures behind him, they were still distant from the giant fiery twister, as Zammar had moved forwards into the main road before being surrounded, but he doubted it was a comfortable position. The enemies had stopped now at the gate, and were looking up at the giant, fast approaching wall of fire with great apprehension and fear. Suddenly they turned and started running back into the forest. Not all made it. As the fiery storm approached the meager fence, those too slow to turn and run were sucked in by the violent winds. They joined their comrades in instant death.
A minute afterwards, for which the cyclone had stood still by the village gates, or the nothing that was left of them anyway, it stopped. Just as suddenly as it had started, the winds died down. Tristan looked at Zammar with big eyes, just as he braked his final spin in a semi twist. His cloak slowly wound back around to cover the muscular back, and his sword glowed a hot red. Then the bodies started falling. With loud, violent thuds, countless bodies started landing on the ground around him violently. They formed giant piles mingled with wood from the huts that had been completely eradicated and entire burned trees that had been uprooted. There was no major order to the fall, for each body had been thrown off in different directions by the wind. However, the majority of them formed an almost circle around Zammar, as he stood up slowly, sheathing the greatsword across his back and walked back into the village, into the inferno.
"Look!" Ren shouted from behind Tristan. He followed her finger, which pointed to the forest on the opposite side of the village gate. The relative darkness made it hard for him to make out anything after staring so intently at the fire, but slowly he made out figures ambling out from the underbrush.
"The villagers!" He grabbed her hand and jumped across the bush in front of them to run across the clearing to where they were. He was panting when he arrived. This close to the flames, the hot air was incredibly hard to breath. It scalded his lungs almost as much as his face. Sweat was running profusely from every orifice on his body. How could Zammar have survived, yet alone fight in a heat even greater than this? And what about that cyclone, it must have been blazing hot inside. He didn't want to think about the other two figures.
Chodak had stepped forward slowly and was standing closer than anyone to the village, staring intently inside. Only the men of the village had come, and he profusely noticed that Tenzin was not amongst them.
"Ah, good, we were worried about you." Elder Gyasho said, looking at Tristan who nodded and then turned to the fire.
"But really, that was...something." Sonam had stepped forward, his grim voice breaking the silence that had fallen over the small group as they watched their home burn.
"Yep," replied Elder Gyasho.
"That man..." began Tshering
"Yep." replied Gyasho again.
"What of the women and children, and Tenzin?" Tristan asked the men.
"The women are okay," replied Sonam, "That man," he paused, "that incredible man saw them coming somehow, so he made us retreat into the forest. I think he meant to lead them away from the village himself. The women and children are in the sacred caves. They should be okay, we came back out to see if it was safe."
"And Tenzin?" Tristan pushed, knowing the answer.
"He came back for Pema, she must have gotten lost in the confusion or something because she wasn't with us when we roll called at the cave." Tshering replied glumly, looking at the back of Chodak who was still staring intently at the fire. They all joined him. The entire group prayed in solemn silence to the village gods, Tristan felt Ren squeezing his hand gently.
The wait felt eternally long. He knew it was less than a minute, but the seconds ticked slowly, exceptionally so. Finally, the silhouetted figure of the great man appeared, with the cape blowing in the wind he walked slowly out of the fire and into the clearing, cradling two people in his muscular arms. No one moved an inch, watching in utter fascination and respect, until he stood by the side of Chodak. There, the man gently laid Pema and Tenzin on the ground. Then, as if some greatly difficult task had been accomplished, he collapsed on his knees. His mighty body sending a resounding thud through the ground and through Tristans bones.
"Zammar!" Ren yelled, running forward to support him, a single tear was flowing down her face. Tristan noticed the look of concern, admiration and love on her face as she slowly heaved the muscular arm around her own shoulder and knelt by his side. It hurt. He felt an actual physical pain by his heart, a pang of jealousy shot through his body. Would she cry for me? He wondered. But somewhere deep down, he knew. He knew after seeing the incredible display of combat proficiency, and the care with which Zammar had carried two strangers out of an inferno of fire. He knew, that he himself was no competition.
"I'm getting to old for this," Zammar grunted. He was remarkably unscarred, a few shallow cuts across his bare chest showed, but there weren't even any burns. His muscular calves were covered in black soot, which also clogged his hair, yet the rest of his body displayed nothing but a layer of sweat that glimmered attractively in the fiery light. He gave a weak smile to Ren, who was looking at him with that same loving look. "Did I make you worry? sorry." Then his face grew serious and again he looked towards where Pema and Tenzin were. Unbuckling his arm from around Ren, he began to reach forward "I'm...sorry." Then just like that, he collapsed fully to the ground. Tristan looked only long enough to make sure he was still breathing before turning to gaze at the two rescued villagers.
The entire group had gathered around. Pema looked okay, she was being helped up by Tshering. Black soot covered her face and brown hair, and many small burn marks were visible across her bare arms. She was coughing and crying uncontrollably, looking down at Tenzin. Tristan took a deep breath to steel himself before following her gaze.
Tenzin was lying on his side in a fetal position, his hair had been completely burned off, black soot covered the bald head. His entire torso was covered in severe burn marks, which continued down his legs. But it was his back that horrified Tristan the most. The fire had raged unchecked over it as he had protected Pema from its heat. Across the back, melted skin had drooped and created strange wavelike patterns, an entire column of his spine was visible, sticking up from the lifeless skin that clung to it hopelessly. His legs had been absolutely scorched, burned bones were clearly visible where his calves were meant to be, connecting to a charred thigh where the skin was still drooping to the ground followed by sizzling blood.
His breathing was remarkably erratic, he wheezed and coughed and gasped desperately for air. Chodak held his hand, shaking his head as tears made their slow passage across his broad face. "You can't go," he whispered, "Pema needs you, I need you, please! We have so much to do! We were going to go beyond the White River remember? We were going to hunt the great bear remember? Come on Ten!" He was replied to by violent coughing and then gasping for breath.
"S...sor..sorry Cho..." And then the breathing stopped. It was met by silence from all but Pema who now wept incredulously. A long pause, before the sudden anguished cry of Chodaks sadness filled the night air. Tristan felt the tears streaming down his face. He had known Tenzin for all his life, never had someone so loved by him passed, and so tragically and young too. Furthermore, he knew the implications of Tenzins death.
It started to rain. Dark clouds overhead, combined with the massive plume of black smoke had completely blocked the morning sun. Slowly the fire that had completely destroyed the village, their beloved home, and taken the life of his friend, began to die down. As it lulled in a silent and anticlimactic fashion, Tristan knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
Long minutes passed before Chodak calmed. The conviction in his eyes was great as he slowly got up. "Cho, please, you don't have to do this." Tristan said, stepping forward. He was stopped by the thin, wrinkled old arm of Elder Gyasho.
"Tristan, this is our way." The solemn seriousness in his voice caused him to back down, he looked around the group. All of the men wore somber expressions, many sported dried tears. Pema was crying profusely but silently. They all stood in a circle around Chodak and Tenzin. All of them had accepted, easily enough, what was to come. He felt a soft squeeze of his hand, and felt relieved to see that Ren was standing by his side now.
Circling the still body of Tenzin, Chodak began to sing. It was a beautiful song, one that he had known all his life. His deep throaty voice carried across the clearing, through the silent pattering of rain. It was a song of brothers. It spoke of the joys and love that two people could share,of the unbreakable bond that was forged between brothers. It spoke of a friendship between men so strong, that it would transcend lifetimes. How even death would not, could not tear apart the bond of brotherhood. The song was long. It was happy, and it was sad. It brought an endless stream of tears to Tristans eyes, and a flood of memories, happy memories.
Neither of them had been like him, he realized. They were so different, with full families, their heritage ingrained deep in the village roots. Yet, they had treated him like a loved friend. They had played with him in the yawning years of his childhood, and he had watched as their friendship grew, into something beautiful. He had sat back, and envied their brotherhood as it fostered from youth. He remembered, when Chodaks mother had tragically passed by virtue of the pox. He had been inconsolable then, until Tenzin took him by the hand and together they had walked far into the forest, from which they returned days later with massive grins. Tristan remembered, he had cheered with the rest of the village as the two returned triumphant from their trials of manhood. That wasn't even that long ago, but the look of joy and accomplishment on their faces as they drunk the drink of men for the first time was one he would never forget.
The song came to a beautiful end, and Chodak fell on his knees above the body of Tenzin. The group of villagers began to chant, a slow and melancholy chant that echoed off the scarred trees. Tristan did not join, it was not his place to do so. Chodak reached slowly to his belt and pulled out a dagger. Tristan wanted to look away, but to do so would dishonour the memory of his friends. So instead, he watched with tear stained eyes as the dagger was raised high and in front of Chodaks chest. Then, with a sudden lurch, thrust straight into his own heart.
*
"I cannot thank you enough, Zammar. You saved the lives of my people! and in a mighty blaze of glory if I must say so myself!" Elder Gyasho said, shaking the muscular arm fervently.
They were standing in the clearing, most of the village had gathered now. The Two bodies were wrapped up in furs, and laid on wooden stretchers improvised from thick sticks. They were to be carried north, and placed in the usual ceremonial ritual down the White river, to join their ancestors and live beyond the plateau, together forever more. Nothing could be salvaged from the fire. But, the villagers had fortunately taken the majority of the supplies with them to the caves, so many bundles were being hauled and prepared for transportation. The atmosphere was quiet. The village had lost two of its precious sons, and the rest of the them had lost their home. Now, full of fear they prepared to venture into the unknown. In just a matter of days, their entire lives had been turned inside out.
"I am so sorry, Gyasho. Two of your own were lost because I failed to protect them."
"Tenzin decided on his own to run to the village, and Pema got lost because she's just clumsy like that. I will never hold it against you for risking your life to safeguard them. But please, if there is something, anything I can do to repay the favour."
"Then, I implore you, to listen to my counsel. Please, Gyasho. Make way to Kathman, and then to Lions Gate. They must heed the desperate plea of the Blacklands."
The Elder looked solemn, "I will do my best old friend, but with the Lion...I hold no promises."
"Your best will always suffice for me."
The two embraced each other, Zammars massive bulk completely hiding the tiny elder.
"What of you, Zammar. What will you do now?"
"I must head West, to the Blacklands. Let us hope that Kampalla still stands tall and ready."
"Elder, I will join them in their quest." Tristan interjected hurriedly.
The elder looked at him calmly, his ancient eyes examining Tristans every detail before he spoke. "Very well, Tristan. You have been a beloved son to our village, I know that Sangmu will be sad. Stay safe."
"Thank you, Elder, please tell Sangmu that no words can describe my appreciation for how well she looked after me." Tristans caretaker had joined the scouting party that had ventured out to the White River to ensure the enemy had not reached there, in place of her much younger brother - Chodak.
"Then, take my blessing, and I hope you find what you're looking for, Tristan." The elder ambled over to him, and Tristan kneeled to receive the quietly muttered blessing. After which, there were no more words to be said.
Zammar and Ren seemed to have left him in privacy for the few moments he had with the elder. When he turned, they were standing at the Western edge of the clearing, waiting for him. He turned his back on the busy villagers, and slowly walked towards the smiling face of Ren, and the muscular might of Zammar.
*
After clearing the forest, they had climbed the rocky slopes to find the narrow path that led West between two tall mountains. From here, Tristan turned back around and walked to the rocky edge of the slope. He could make out the smoldering ruin of the village that he had loved with all heart, where he had spent his whole life. It was a beautifully sad site, to see such a wonderful place burned down in hate.
Seeing the ruin of his entire life made the entire ordeal seem much more real. Suddenly, the impact of everything that had happened hit him. It was all he could do to not fall on his knees and cry.
Seeing the ruin of his entire life made the entire ordeal seem much more real. Suddenly, the impact of everything that had happened hit him. It was all he could do to not fall on his knees and cry.
He felt Ren walk to his side, and stare out at the scene.
"What was the name of your village, Tristan?" She asked after a few minutes, crouching down at the rock edge with a dagger in her hand to carve the rock with.
"Home." He whispered, as a single tear made its way slowly down his face.
Authors Note:
Alright, so I know it was a bit late, but I am glad to say that part two of this epic saga is FINALLY completed!
This one was really hard for me to write, which is kindve funny because I feel like the writing is a lot better (still lots of room to improve). And apologies for the many mistakes of grammar that I am sure are abundant. Unfortunately, I have not the stamina to edit this again, and a rest is unacceptable seeing how late it already is :D
There is a lot less content than part one, and I opted to go for more of a story about the characters. The plan was to make this significantly shorter than part one, I was aiming for half the length. Well, that didn't happen! But I also didn't want to cut corners, so I wrote it out as well as I felt I should have.
Once again, I hope that if you took the time to read this, that you also take the time to tell me what you think. (Please do!) Predictions, opinions on the story, characters, universe and etc. are all stuff that I will feed off of happily :)
Once again, a bunch of call outs that I hope someone catches :D
Thanks a lot for reading, please get back to me with your opinions and look forward to part 3
Where will Zammar the Greats adventures take him next!?
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