“Plus, they’re the closest village to the Cursed Lands. Just look at how close those scouts were. But Elder, can we even take in so many people to our village?” Anna worriedly asked.
“Hm. That is not a question I like to think about. The Linta Clan is probably twice the size of our clan. We could possibly all fit behind the wall if necessary, though it would not be a viable living solution; but if, gods forbid, we must sail away from our homeland to escape, we will need every ship we can get,” Elder Matkon replied, seeming troubled at his own conclusion.
Before anyone replied, Becca had opened the doors to the large hall. She waved them in, her hands moving quickly. Valon could see the worry in her eyes.
The group followed her into the huge hall. Large paintings, sculptures, and other unique pieces of art decorated the sides of the hall. Valon had never seen such art, let alone so much of it. The paintings that hung here were far better than any of those in his own village.
Sitting in an ornate throne at the end of the hall was a middle-aged man. He was overweight, not too tall, and had straight greasy hair down to his neck. He did have kind eyes, a jolly smile, and a scar running down the entire right side of his face.
“Hello, visitors!” Chieftain Yarmot greeted, slowly standing from his throne. “And welcome to our village!”
Seer Mordou and Elder Matkon looked at each other, not knowing who should speak first. They stared for a moment, whispered, and then looked back at the Linta Chieftain.
“Chieftain Yarmot, I am Seer Mordou of the Ancient Clan. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Seer Mordou said with a small bow.
“And I am Elder Matkon of the Narsho Clan, representing Chieftain Barod. It is also an honor,” Elder Matkon greeted, bowing like the Seer.
“So, my niece was right! Two clans coming together to see me. This is quite an unexpected meeting. She said it was dire, but I would’ve expected to see Chieftain Barod here himself to give the news,” Chieftain Yarmot replied, sitting back on his throne.
Elder Matkon and Anna shared a glance, and Valon knew exactly what they were thinking. Given the circumstances, Valon hoped they would just tell the chieftain what happened to Barod. Now was a time of honesty, even if the news wasn’t good.
“Unfortunately, Chieftain Barod is recovering from a nasty poison used by the Highrock Chief King when they attacked our village. He will likely live, but there was no possibility of him traveling. But do not confuse my being here with a lack of importance,” Elder Matkon explained.
“I see … That is terrible news. Is this why you are here then? To ask for help to fight against the Highrock Clan?” Chieftain Yarmot asked, seemingly perturbed by the news.
“No, chieftain. We don’t ask you to join our fight with the Highrock Clan. We ask for you to join the fight against an enemy far more dangerous, corrupting, and on your doorstep. What can only be described as Horrors are running amok in the Cursed Lands; in fact your niece here encountered some when we met,” Elder Matkon explained.
“She briefly told me about them. Her description was terrifying. She said that they were much smaller than the ones you’ve come across, is that right?” Chieftain Yarmot asked, leaning his head on his pudgy hand.
“I personally haven’t encountered them. But Scout Anna Myhre here has fought them multiple times and lived to tell the tale,” Elder Matkon said, gesturing for Anna to step up next to him.
“Oh, I see. Hello, Scout Myhre,” Chieftain Yarmot greeted.
“Hello, Chieftain; it is an honor,” Anna replied.
“Please, tell me your story. I want to hear everything,” Chieftain Yarmot insisted, waving for a nearby servant to fetch him some wine.
“Okay. I will spare no detail then,” Anna said, preparing herself mentally.
Valon stood back and listened to Anna’s tale once more. Her finding of seemingly ancient ruins, the tragedy of losing Fredrik to them, and then encountering the strange area from which they originated. The descriptions sent chills down Valon’s spine, especially thinking about a dark forest where the trees merged together like some terrible mass. The story was just as he’d heard it previously from her. She did not exaggerate and was so well articulated that her descriptions made those listening rather uncomfortable. However, her mentioning of where the Horrors came from sounded a bit more detailed this time.
As Valon listened to her describing the strange, shimmering translucent look in the air, a memory of something he had read in an old tome long ago stirred in his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on what he had read. Something spoke of a very similar thing in a similar context, but what could it have been?
“Are you alright, Apprentice?” Seer Mordou whispered quietly, as to not interrupt Anna.
“Her description of the shimmering air. It reminds me of something I’ve once read,” Valon replied quietly, still trying to think hard.
“Not invisibility like with our boardwalks?” Seer Mordou asked.
“No. No, there was an old, old tome I read years ago. It was about explorers from the Great Clan who found something similar and recognized its magic,” Valon replied, starting to remember.
“Hm, I think I recall that as well. Something about the gods, or land of the gods, wasn’t it … hm…” Seer Mordou trailed off, his old mind losing track.
Between racking his brain and hearing his master speak of the land of the gods made him remember: the explorers from the Great Clan traveled far east to find a small camp by a strange, shimmering something in the air. It was there they supposedly met one of the gods, and even traveled through that shimmering air to where the gods supposedly came from. That was it! That magic was the magic of teleportation.
“I think it is a portal, master. A form of magical teleportation to another realm. The explorers from the Great Clan traveled through it to visit the land of the gods. It’s even located east of the Great Clan technically. It might even be the same portal!” Valon said, not noticing his voice had raised volume a bit.
“What sort of godly land would send such horror to us…” Seer Mordou spoke quietly, trailing off.
Ecstatic to have figured out what it could be, Valon looked back at the group to see everyone staring at him. It seemed he had unknowingly interrupted their conversation. He didn’t know how to respond.
“Are we missing something important?” Chieftain Yarmot asked with a chuckle.
“Apologies, chieftain. This is my apprentice, Valon, soon to be the next Seer of the Ancient Clan,” Seer Mordou introduced.
“Greetings, Apprentice Valon. Do you have more information about this most … disturbing threat?” Chieftain Yarmot asked.
“I believe so,” Valon began, stepping forward with everyone else. “I believe what Anna saw was a portal. A portal has been mentioned in an ancient tome in our possession, and is a magical method of transportation called teleportation, which is not only instant, but can link great distances apart. Explorers from the Great Clan found what they called a portal to the far east during their time. Perhaps it is the same portal. It does make sense, as she describes Horrors coming out of thin air. Except they are not just appearing from nowhere, they are coming from a portal linked to what could be another realm.”
Everyone became silent after Valon finished speaking. Not only were they not familiar with magic, but even Valon wasn’t too familiar with what he just described. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Yes, the horrors could be coming from another realm
“Another realm? Like the Dark Depths?” Chieftain Yarmot asked, unsure what to believe.
“I suppose that is a possibility. Perhaps that’s where these wretches come from. Regardless, the threat is real. Given that these Horrors can take the bodies of the dead and dying and use them against us, we must consolidate our clans. Respectfully, chieftain, your city is not prepared for an attack. Although none of us are prepared for these beasts. We may have to flee our homes on ships, at least that’s what Distichum told me,” Valon replied, re
alizing he shouldn't have mentioned the living tree.
“Distichum? Who is that?” Chieftain Yarmot asked.
Despite knowing it sounded like a strange children's tale, Valon continued and told the story of Distichum and the supposed Arboreals to everyone in the room. Only his master had heard the tale, and everyone had equal confusion and disbelief on their faces as Valon spoke, though given how much else was going on, it seemed to fit right in.
“So … trees live, Horrors from another realm invade our world, and a chunk of land lies south of us across the ocean. In my forty-one years of living I have never felt more like a confused child in a land he doesn’t know,” Chieftain Yarmot chuckled, masking his unsettled feelings of confliction.
“Uncle, they are right. We cannot risk it. If they are wrong, or if we defeat them, we can always return here,” Becca urged, believing everything.
“But to ask thousands of clanspeople to pick up and leave … that’s not easy. We’ve never dealt with anything like this since the days of the Great Clan…” Chieftain Yarmot replied, suddenly looking to the servant that had stood quietly next to him the entire time. “Pil, what do you believe of these stories?”
The servant’s eyes widened as he was put on the spot. He had obviously been listening the entire time, even forgetting to refill his chieftain’s wine once. By the look on his face, Valon wondered if this was the first time he had ever been asked his opinion.
“Chieftain … I … well, I believe them. They have no reason to lie, not to mention your niece Lady Yarmot herself saw some of the creatures. Considering the Narsho and Ancient Clans stand here before us in unison, I would do what they ask. Oh, er, but that is just my humble opinion, of course…” Pil replied sheepishly.
“He is right, Chieftain. These are strange times. We must work together to save our people,” Elder Matkon calmly added.
Valon watched the Linta chieftain rested his head in his hands for a moment, closing his eyes. He sat there in silence for close to a minute, causing those others in the room to glance nervously amongst themselves. However, Becca and Pil seemed to find his actions typical, and stood patiently. Finally, the chieftain looked back at them, and stood from his chair. He gritted his teeth and nodded as he looked at Elder Matkon and Seer Mordou.
“For the sake of my people, I know what I must do. It will not be easy, but it will be necessary by the sounds of it. In two days’ time, I will take my clan and ships to your village, Elder Matkon. There we shall form a plan on how to secure our realm,” Chieftain Yarmot said with certainty, downing his wine and setting his metal chalice firmly down on the throne.
“We are pleased to hear that. We will prepare our village for your arrival,” Elder Matkon replied, trying to hide his enthusiasm.
“Then we will form a plan of attack,” Seer Mordou added.
Valon felt relieved as he heard the words. They had succeeded in the first part of their mission. Now, they’d have to figure out how to fight back the strange threat that sought to destroy them. He stopped himself from worrying too much about the future, as there was nothing more he could do. For now, they were doing everything they could and were succeeding.
Chapter 17
It was the shuffling of items on a table that awoke Chieftain Barod. He coughed, rolling on his side and hanging over the bed. He looked up to see Olaf quickly walking towards him, vials in hand.
“Chieftain! I am so sorry to wake you. I was working on a better rejuvenation potion that may serve you well,” Olaf apologized, shuffling over the crude wood floor towards him.
“Olaf, don’t apologize. I can’t sleep all the time. At some point I’ll need to get out of this bed, or I’ll be here for good,” Chieftain Barod replied as he slowly sat up.
His entire body felt as though it were on fire, and every movement made him feel great pain. However, he still felt better with each passing day. In fact, he noticed he felt so much better he may be ready to stand.
He slowly moved his legs off the bed and onto the cool, wooden floor. He noticed his feet were grey and could see the discolored veins from the poison. He looked as terrible as he felt, but if he was still alive then he wouldn’t be dying from the poison. He slowly began to put weight on his feet, and all his muscles burned in response.
“Chieftain, please take it slow! There is no rush,” Olaf said, standing close to the chieftain.
As Chieftain Barod managed to stand, he noticed he felt weak. He had heard of bedridden people becoming weak over time, but he hadn’t been here that long. Between the poison and lack of movement, he felt horrible. His entire body felt as though it had been torn apart and crudely put back together. He almost didn’t feel like the same man he was even a mere week earlier.
“I’ll be alright, I may just need to steady myself,” Chieftain Barod replied, placing a hand on Olaf’s shoulder.
“Please, it’s the least I can do. The last thing we need is you falling and breaking a hip,” Olaf half joked. “Is there much pain?”
“There is, unfortunately,” Chieftain Barod replied, wincing.
Olaf looked at him with stern eyes, something Chieftain Barod wasn’t used to getting from the old man. He did know that this look meant Olaf was serious, and sure of what he was going to say. He watched the wrinkles on the old shaman’s head move as he spoke.
“Please, let me use some magic. I know you detest it, but I can at least relieve the pain. There is no harm in it,” Olaf urged, grabbing his chieftain’s arm.
Chieftain Barod stared at his old friend, considering his offer. Ever since he was a child, he had been told to hate magic. He had been told to not trust it, and to even be wary of their own shaman. He didn’t want to be skeptical of one of his closest advisors, but it was so ingrained into his soul he could barely find the power within him to say yes. Finally, after much internal debate, Chieftain Barod nodded to Olaf, mumbling agreement.
Olaf placed his hand over Chieftain Barod’s heart, closing his old, weary eyes. He slowly muttered something to himself, as if finding it difficult to remember exactly how to use such a spell. Moments later, the smallest specks of blue light squeezed out from Olaf’s hand and into Chieftain Barod’s chest. A quiet humming sound filled Chieftain Barod’s private cabin, neither speaking a word besides Olaf’s mumbling.
As the blue light embraced him, Chieftain Barod felt at peace. In fact, he had felt more at peace now than at any other point in his life. At least, besides the one other time he had to accept aid from Olaf. Even then, that was just a hard decision to trust in such a chaotic force like magic. However, that had been brief, a flash of magic. This was a much longer spell.
Some of Chieftain Barod’s color returned to his faded, grey cheeks. He let go of Olaf, able to stand on his own. As the magic flowed through his body, he felt full of life. In fact, it was more than that; he felt full of a strange, yet peaceful sensation. The Narsho chieftain felt as though he was back in order.
Olaf stopped, stepping back from Chieftain Barod. The blue light of the magic quickly dissipated, leaving no trace of its existence beyond a rejuvenated chieftain. Olaf took a deep breath, slightly tired from the brief usage of magic. He smiled as soon as he noticed how his friend looked better.
“Olaf, my old friend, thank you. It wasn’t easy for me to accept such magic, but I feel much better,” Chieftain Barod replied. “At least, the pain is gone. I’m still exhausted.”
“Of course, Jonis. Anything for you. That’s quite a difficult form of magic to use. Despite its power, it will fade. While it can heal a wound and ease pain, that poison may be too complex for it. You may feel better, but take it easy,” Olaf explained, sitting in a nearby chair. “Sorry, it just takes a bit out of me.”
“Please, relax. You are welcome to stay here anytime,” Chieftain Barod smiled.
Suddenly, a knocking came from the front door. The two men looked over, not expecting anybody, though Chieftain Barod could guess who it was. He walked over to the door and opened it, seeing Chiefta
in Wooll standing before him.
“By the gods! You look much better!” Chieftain Wooll beamed with a toothy smile.
“I feel much better. I have Olaf to thank for that,” Chieftain Barod replied, gesturing to the shaman.
“Hah! Perhaps he could teach our shaman a few tricks,” Chieftain Wooll chuckled.
Olaf slowly stood and approached the two men, motioning that he had to get through. He still seemed tired but dedicated.
“You can relax here if you want, Olaf,” Chieftain Barod offered.
“Thank you, but I have other matters to attend to. That battle left many wounded, and my healers aren’t as effective as I am. I will see you both later I’m sure. Remember to take it easy, Chieftain,” Olaf said before shuffling away towards the village.
Chieftain Barod gestured for his fellow chieftain to take a seat in one of the chairs on his small patio. The two sat down, now facing the wide blue ocean. It was a peaceful sight, which is why Chieftain Barod had his home built here. He was the farthest away from the village, on a small point his people had dubbed “the chieftain’s point.” From here, he was only a few feet from the beach.
“It’s so peaceful here, Barod. The ocean is truly something. Even when I’m home in our forest village I do not forget the ocean’s beauty,” Chieftain Wooll acknowledged.
“It is. Which is why I will fight to defend it with everything I have. I only wish I wasn’t so weak for the battle to come,” Chieftain Barod replied.
“Ah, well leading isn’t just about brute strength. It’s about wisdom, too,” Chieftain Wooll said, taking an ornate pipe from his pocket.
Chieftain Barod nodded in agreement, watching his old friend stuff the pipe full of tobacco. The Forud people had large tobacco farms, a plant that Chieftain Barod had never much appreciated. He didn’t enjoy smoking like his fellow chieftain, who didn’t bother to offer, already knowing this about his friend.
Rise of the Champions Page 17
