Flight of the Krilo Page 8

  The pipe was lit and passed around the circle, with each of the elders sucking in the smoke before handing it to the next. Halsten was the last person to receive it. He took in the smoke and felt his lungs warm as the smoke filled them. He fought the urge to cough, and took another pull from the pipe before passing it on.

  Deggeira began to sing as the pipe was passed around the circle again. Most of the elders sat silently, looking at the heap of gray ash in the fire pit. Two of them rocked back and forth slightly, humming along with Deggeira. As the pipe went around the circle for the third time, Deggeira reached into the fire pit and took a handful of ash. She threw a bit of it up into the air, and then sprinkled the rest on the elders and Halsten. Each of the elders in turn grabbed a bit of ash from the pit and waved their hands about in circles while they sang. Soon there were trails of ash along the floor and the air was filled with a mixture of smoke and ash.

  Halsten watched the ash float upon the air, mixing with the ash. Then, a strange form appeared over the fire pit. It was dark, like a shadow, but it had a distinct shape to it, like that of a human. The young chief-to-be watched the form as it stepped away from the fire pit and moved to the other side of the room. Soon, a second shape joined the first, and then a third. None of them seemed to have faces, or any visible details to their forms. They were all shadows, silent and dark.

  “Great spirits, hear us!” Deggeira shouted in the darkness. “Grant us wisdom to see, and give us foresight. Show us what you see before you!”

  In that instant, all of the elders took a handful of ash and pelted Halsten in the face and chest with the nasty stuff. Dust went all over, and he took in half a breath full of the garbage before he managed to shut his eyes and cough as he fanned the ash away.

  “Tell us what you see!” Deggeira shouted loudly with her hands outstretched and shaking wildly.

  The other elders sat back in their positions and let their eyes roll back, displaying only the whites to Halsten as they groaned and shifted side to side.

  The room grew cold then, and all became quiet.

  Deggeira stopped shaking her arms and slumped forward. Her hands dangled limp at her sides, her gray hair concealed her face as her head drooped low. She stood in the darkness like this for several seconds, and then she lifted her head and pointed to Halsten.

  “The spirits have confirmed you as chief, Halsten. You are the one they have ordained to lead the tribe home. You will restore the blessing of Akuhn to our people and we shall become mighty once more.”

  Halsten’s heart skipped in his chest and then thumped so hard he clutched a hand to his left breast and took in a sharp, shallow breath. He nodded his head. “I will take us back to the Sacred Valley, I swear it.”

  “The spirits are pleased!” Deggeira said. She and the other elders broke into loud shouting and singing. Those who were seated stood and danced around Halsten, all of them revolving around to the left as they spun and danced.

  Halsten felt a power flow into him as he took the pipe once more, and then he closed his eyes and held his hands out and let the darkness consume him. He couldn’t be sure, but he felt as though the spirits were approaching him and placing their hands on his arms and head. The dancing and singing continued for some time, until all of the elders had been overcome with exhaustion. Then they each sat back down and went into a meditative state, and then finally one by one laid down and went to sleep.

  Halsten did not sleep. He lit a fire in the pit, and searched his father’s house for blankets to cover the sleeping elders. As he pulled the blankets out of a wooden chest, he found something that he had not thought about until this very moment. There, in the side of the chest, was a very special headdress that his father had kept, handed down generation to generation, always staying with the oldest member of the family. It was the only wolf pelt in the Gray Wolf tribe. It was worn in special battles, fights that would decide the future of the tribe. Every family had a headdress similar to this, although others used skins of bears, foxes, or badgers. He took the headdress in hand and stroked the soft, dark gray fur along the top of the wolf’s head. The upper half of the head was intact, all the way down to the upper fangs. This way it could be worn on the head and grant the wearer the strength and wisdom of the animal it had come from.

  This particular wolf had been slain many generations ago, when one of Halsten’s ancestors was only a boy of twelve. The wolf had attacked him, and he killed it with a knife. It was said that he had a vision that night, and that was the first time Akuhn had come to any of the Varvarr. With her guidance, that ancestor had founded the tribe of the Gray Wolves. This headdress was more than a something to be used in battle, it signified the tribe’s birth. Now it fell to Halsten, as a reminder of the work ahead of him.

  Halsten placed the headdress on the bed, ensuring he would remember to take it with him after he was finished with the elders. For now, he covered the elders with blankets and then kept watch over them for several hours; exactly how long he couldn’t be sure, but it was a long time before Deggeira woke. When she did, she smiled at him.

  “You are the chief now. Go, go outside and address your people. They will be eager to know your plans.”

  Halsten rose and went to the door. He unlocked it and exited the building to see a large crowd gathered around the house. Agatha and Sarkis were directly in front of him, with at least fifty other villagers all huddled in close. When they saw him, they all gave out a shout. He held his right fist high in the air and shouted in kind.

  Deggeira appeared at his left, and she slipped a hand on his shoulder. She quieted the crowd and then said, “Long life to the chief!”

  A chorus of cheers went up once more. A grand meal was prepared with what little game the hunters had been able to gather, and there was much dancing and singing throughout the night.

  Over the course of the meal, Halsten found out that he and the elders had been inside Jarle’s house for nearly two days. It had been the longest induction ceremony of any chief in the Wolf Tribe. The elders claimed it was a good omen, but the memory of Halsten’s dream tainted the experience for Halsten, and he thought that perhaps the spirits had needed extra time to decide whether he was acceptable, given his father’s dishonor.

  He sat and pondered this for quite a while as he absently watched the young Varvarr dance and play games as the adults ate and sang songs that had been passed down for generations. He had only just decided to tell the others about his plans to return to the Sacred Valley when an alarm went up from one of the guards.

  Every man and woman grabbed whatever weapons they had at hand. Most had at least an axe or knife at their belts while some picked up large sticks. All of them were on edge after the assassination of Jarle. Such a response proved unnecessary however. Samek marched into the village with a lean, but strong looking, man. Samek held the man fast with one arm behind his back and another hand on the man’s shoulder, directing him through the crowd.

  The newcomer’s complexion was darker than that of a Varvarr. He was not quite black, like some of the people in the cities of the west, but a dark brown with narrower eyes than a Varvarr. He stood only five and a half feet tall, where most Varvarr adult males ranged from six to seven feet tall. His hands and arms were noticeably smaller as well, as were his legs. It wasn’t that the stranger was scrawny, but compared to a Varvarr’s musculature, even a strong man from another race looked small.

  “Tarthun,” Samek said as he shoved the man down to the ground before Halsten. “I caught him running toward the village. He says he has come to ask for aid.”

  “For aid?” Halsten asked. He glanced to Agatha who returned his look with a minor shrug. Of all the things he had expected, a request for aid was not one of them. The Tarthuns and the Varvarr were not close peoples. They were not currently at war, but disputes and battles had often arisen between the two and there had never been a stretch of time, even during peace, when the two races had traded or intermarried.

  Halsten was ab
out to speak, but Deggeira was suddenly whispering into his ear from behind, which startled him, for he hadn’t even realized she was there next to him.

  “Take him into your father’s house, and deal with him in private, my chief,” Deggeira counseled.

  Halsten nodded. “Samek, bring him to the home of my father. I will speak with him there.” Halsten stood and gestured to the rest of his people. “Continue with the singing and dancing.”

  The others did as he wished, albeit with a few wary glances to the outskirts of the village. Halsten followed Samek to his father’s home, with Deggeira a few steps behind him. When the four of them were all inside, Deggeira closed and locked the door. Samek grabbed the Tarthun by the shoulders and forced him to the ground with a rough kick to the knees. The man groaned, but did not fight back.

  “Shall I bind him?” Samek asked.

  Halsten shook his head. “He has come in peace, so we will not treat him as a prisoner. Besides, what cords could hold him better than you?” Halsten asked.

  Samek grinned slightly and nodded. His grip on the Tarthun’s shoulders tightened and the Tarthun stiffened.

  “We need help,” the Tarthun said. “I was told that if ever we needed aid in fulfilling our duties, I could come and seek aid from the Wolf Tribe.”

  Halsten walked slowly around and cocked his head curiously at the man kneeling before him. “Who told you that?” Halsten asked.

  “My father,” he said proudly.

  “And why would your father, a Tarthun, say such a thing?” Halsten pressed.

  “My father was the leader of our clan. When the Wolf Tribe left the Valley of Akuhn, we were given a charge to watch over the temple, and keep it safe.”

  Halsten balked and blinked several times before turning to Deggeira for some sort of advice. Deggeira shook her head and shrugged, offering no help whatsoever.

  “Who gave you that task?”

  “The one you call Jarle,” the Tarthun said.

  “Liar!” Samek roared as his left hand went up to seize the Tarthun’s hair and yank back to expose the man’s throat. A flash of silver was all Halsten saw before the edge of Samek’s knife was pressed against the Tarthun’s neck.

  Halsten watched carefully. The Tarthun was breathing shallowly and quickly, eyes wide with fear, but he did not look away from Halsten’s stare. His brown eyes locked with Halsten proudly, as if to testify to the truthfulness of his claim. The young chief held up his right hand and made a waving motion to the side. Samek reluctantly pulled the knife away and released his grip on the Tarthun’s hair.

  “I swear it is so,” the Tarthun said. “Upon my wife’s head, I swear it.”

  Halsten nodded. “Why would Jarle trust your people?”

  The Tarthun shook his head. “We were at war with your tribe. Jarle conquered us, and offered us life in return for our service. We accepted his terms, for the only alternative was death.”

  Halsten felt a rage boil up deep within his chest. “Only cowards allow themselves to be enslaved,” he said. “You were not worthy to look upon Akuhn’s temple.”

  The Tarthun looked to the ground. “Please,” he began, “we need aid. My father said that Jarle promised to help us should we ever be faced with a new enemy that threatened the temple.”

  “Who threatens the temple?” Halsten asked.

  “There are two groups,” the Tarthun said. “The first are the dwarves. They have superior weapons and armor, and can fight using tunnels that enable them to attack and run away before we can find them. The second group are the Krilo, a peculiar race of men that have overrun the temple and made it their own.”

  “Blasphemy!” Halsten shouted. He stepped in and grabbed the Tarthun by the front of his shirt and hoisted him up to his eye level with the Tarthun’s feet dangling nearly a foot off the ground. “How dare you draw breath while the temple is defiled! You should have perished defending it!”

  “We have,” the man squealed. “All of us! I am the last man of my people. The dwarves killed us all.”

  “Why would dwarves care about the temple?” Deggeira asked suddenly. “They have never bothered themselves with what happens in the Sacred Valley, nor have they any adherence to religion that I know of.”

  The Tarthun shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps it is the Krilo, maybe they are working together. I’m not sure.”

  Halsten dropped the Tarthun and glowered at him. The rage built up in his chest until he could no longer keep it hidden. Now the dream made sense. His father had in fact wounded the wolf, for he had allowed the temple to be defiled. He had cast his duties off and given them to the unworthy. Now the temple was overrun by yet other unclean people. The Tarthun before him should not have run from the battle to seek help. A child of fourteen could have done such a task. The Tarthun man should have kept his honor and defended the temple even unto death, as they had promised Jarle.

  “It is time to reclaim the temple, and wipe the defilers off the face of Terramyr,” Halsten said.

  “Oh, then you will help us!” exclaimed the Tarthun.

  Halsten looked to the small man and clenched his fist. “For your crimes, you shall die. Any who belong to your tribe had better scatter before me, for I am Halsten, and I am the one chosen to right the wrongs of my father. I will bring honor back to the Wolf Tribe, and I will vanquish all enemies. Do you hear me?”

  The Tarthun froze, his mouth open.

  “Now, as you are so good at running and giving messages, I have one I want you to convey.”

  “Anything,” the Tarthun said with a quick nod.

  “You tell your ancestors that I am coming for their children. None who allow the temple to be defiled shall escape my wrath.”

  The Tarthun’s face contorted into a frown. “Tell my ancestors?”

  Halsten stepped forward and with all the rage and strength he possessed, he punched straight to the man’s left temple. Bone cracked and gave way to his fist, and the Tarthun fell to the ground, landing face-first in the fire pit.

  “Samek, come with me. I have an announcement for our people.”

  “What about him?” Samek asked, gesturing to the Tarthun corpse.

  “Leave him here. The defiler can rot in the home of my father. Any who disturbs the body shall be exiled. Am I clear?”

  Samek nodded.

  “It’s time to tell the people that we are going home.”

  Samek and Halsten left the house, but Deggeira remained for a few moments after they departed. She stared at the body for a while and then took in a deep breath. “And so the Wolf Tribe goes to war to reclaim that which was lost,” she said to herself. She then offered a silent prayer before following her chief outside.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Reu asked.

  Kamal held his head down in shame. It had been nearly two weeks since he had snuck back to the great chamber at the end of the feast and saw what had happened. He had hoped his sneaking had gone unnoticed. Apparently Reu had been biding his time for the right moment to pull him aside.

  “You are my friend, and I will admit we have a close relationship, but what you did was a severe breach of my trust, do you understand?”

  Kamal nodded. “I’m sorry, I just…”

  Reu waited for a moment, possibly to allow Kamal to finish his apology, but Kamal couldn’t find the words. “My own guards are not allowed to see what you saw.”

  Kamal closed his eyes, as if doing so would make him disappear from the room somehow. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” Kamal said.

  “Ah, but you did,” Reu said sharply. “That is precisely what you meant to do. You planned out how to intrude upon my privacy. Well, tell me, Krilo, was it worth it?”

  Kamal cringed on the inside at the way Reu said the word Krilo. It wasn’t as bad as when Gauer spoke, but it had never been Reu’s way to speak in such condescending tones, even when angered.

  “No,” Kamal said with a shake of his head. “It was not worth it,
and if I could, I would undo what I have done.”

  Reu took in a breath and turned to pace the stone floor of the storeroom.

  Kamal had come with a group of other young men to deliver a supplemental deposit of grains; it was the best way the Krilo knew how to show their thanks for all the sacrifices the dwarves had made over the years. Since the feast, they had sent a supplemental shipment once every two days. Bags of grain filled the room from floor to ceiling. Kamal leaned back against a short stack of bags while Reu paced the narrow strip of floor between the bags and the north wall where the door was. The door was closed, and two guards had been stationed outside. The other Krilo youth had been sent away. Only Kamal remained.

  “I know your kind values knowledge, but not all secrets are meant to be uncovered, do you understand?” Reu asked, his voice still carrying an edge of sharpness to it.

  Kamal nodded. “I do now,” he said softly. Tears formed in his eyes and he let them fall over his cheeks. For all he knew, he was about to lose a very close friend. All because he couldn’t push a curiosity out of his mind.

  “You have learned much from me about our kind. You know our history just as well, if not better than Hieml, and he is our chief historian with over two hundred years of experience. You have watched our battles, and you have even wearied me with requests to the point that I let you go along with us on a scouting mission. At the time, I thought you wise for wanting to soak up as much knowledge as you could, but now I see that your curiosity is nothing more than greed.

  “While most humans covet our gold and gems, you would rob us of our secrets!” Reu folded his arms and looked up to the ceiling as he sighed. “Have you told anyone else?”