by Philip Read
The southerners came with slavery, and it was a crime we couldn’t allow stand. And we died in our thousands in outrage and Rage. Fighting no longer for the pleasure of it, for the glory of it, for making a name for ourselves in history.
But for something more primal than even survival, we fought for our souls and the souls of our people.
Chapter 31
Sachi
I’m walking through the woods beneath the shadow of the first Titan Mountain Tethys. The scent of pine is refreshing and nostalgic. Dry leaves crumble audibly under my bare feet between the widely spaced but tall trees. The ground is soft, moist and rich. A caryerter bird calls to another somewhere, its mating call pleasing to my ear.
I stop to pick up my sixth acorn and enfold it in my hand. Clenching my fist tightly until it breaks and stuffing the core in my pouch. I sigh as I continue my walk, cognizant of all around me. The squirrels chasing each other around the tree behind me, the griffin-owl eyeing them for its supper.
The lone wolf that has been following for the past 20 minutes. Probably at the behest of Gorr if that’s Fenrir making all the noise. An eagle cries out and all the squirrels scatter. It would be comical if I was in the mood for humour. I walk deep into the woods, passing streams and climbing over the foot of the mountain.
I wish I could get lost, my heart is broken and I want to fall down and weep in despair.
My people are scattered like the squirrels. Though we fight still, we fight to satisfy our own sense of right and stubbornness than any hope of victory. We fight to sate our thirst for blood and so we may die in battle like Barbarians, not cowering like some of the southerners do when cornered. My battle group has been scouring the tundra looking for southerners to ambush and we do find them here and there.
But mostly we find the remains of our mothers burnt in a pile. The remains of our youngest children with their heads bashed in and their throats cut. The remains of our fathers castrated and tortured, with the indignity of having their cocks stuffed in their mouths.
More than anything these days we build pyres for the dead, dignifying their death in battle for all Barbarians are warriors this age. The age of the fall of the tribes. Tears start streaming down my cheeks as I gaze upon the forest. The air crisp in honour of winter.
I look to the sky in despair and I ROAR! I roar my frustration, I roar my wrath, I roar my fears and the things I’ve seen. I roar for the people I’ve had to bury. Children, they kill ‘fucken’ children and take their mother as slaves to be raped repeatedly and made sport of.
Never have I hated as much as I do. Never has an enemy been more deserving of death. I take my zanpakutō off my back and hurl it as far as I can.
I have killed with that thing. I have killed and killed and killed. Dozen have fallen by my blade by now and still we’ve lost everything. The Tundra is bare and opened, exposed like our women to the vile bile inducing appetites of these filthy peoples.
The Maori going as far as to take our people with them in chains as they leave the Tundra. The fucken audacity human beings have. To take an aware sapient creature and bind its soul with oaths and magics before doing all kinds of vile things to them. To take them from their ancestral home so they could forever be something to be used at your leisure and discretion. I spit in my disgust.
I watch the eagle flying free above the world, above these troubles that we face. Then the flood gates open and I fall to my knees and weep.
Tears and snort fall from my orifices as I fall on my knees on the hard mountain rock and shake with sobs. The sounds I am making I’ve never even made as a child, and as a grown man they sound strange, but they somehow convey how fucked up life is.
I sob, mourning for my people, praying that those that can find their way to Hill town, Viper’s Nest, Hill home or Paradisum. The only remaining settlements of our people not sacked to the ground.
I sob for only a minute or two before wiping the snort and the tears from my face. I sigh again, my head pounding and my body tired. I need a fucken’ drink.
*
Walking down the mountain side to retrieve my discarded blade I find Gorr the ‘fucken’ hermit waiting for me. So that’s who the wolf was, no wonder it was so loud. He still has no idea how to be a proper wolf. The man is uncanny in how much he can see though, even with that blindfold on.
I walk passed him and retrieve my deadly weapon. I feel nothing from it for the first time in a long time. It’s silent and I suddenly regret what I did. Sometimes I forget it probably has feelings, not necessarily human feelings but feelings all the same.
I sigh as I turn to face the nosey old man only to find him collecting rocks and setting up a fire shelter.
We settle down and build a fire before enjoying the azure colours of the sky as the twilight of dusk progresses. I polish my sheath lovely, apologizing profusely the entire time.
Gorr removes ginger fruit from his storage ring and tosses me one of the tough skinned bumpy fruit. I haven’t seen any of the remaining Awakened in a while, most of them still fighting deep in occupied Saxan and Savage territory.
“They worked up the nerve to attack Paradisum yet?” I ask enjoying the sweet and sour and scintillating taste of the silver fruit.
“No, still camped a mile outside the city walls in what the Highlanders call a siege.”
I grunt at that, Om having an influence in my vocabular or lack of it. I’m tossed another fruit, an apple. It seems Gorr was in Paradisum, no where else has such a diverse collection of fruit in close proximity anywhere in the tundra. Well maybe the Dawn does but I’ve never been deep within the Dawn.
“You think they’ll eventually work up the nerve?” I ask, worried about ma, Freya and the thousands of none combatants that flocked there when it became clear Southerners lacked the nerve to attack a Sidhe city.
“Don’t worry about the city lad. Those nine Sidhe could keep the southern army quite busy all by themselves if they chose.” He says with surety that makes me suspicious.
“I suppose they they must be close to Archmage level..” I say nonchalantly.
“Pfffhh..” Gorr snorts putting a stick in the fire. “Maybe the other seven. Two of those creatures are only tenuously holding on to their mortal flesh.”
“I see…”
I wish I had his eyes. Awakening to such a unique set of powers, and being able to turn into a wolf. Even a shabby unimpressive 240 pound wolf. He probably can see how powerful an opponent is, what tricks they have…
I sigh remembering the Awakened that were our hope that are dead, some scattered into battle groups hunting southerners that still venture too deeply into the tundra too quickly.
All the Saxon lands are now occupied territory, but even though other towns may be destroyed. The deep Tundra is still contested land, our advantage that the southerners always go to places with buried deposits of ore.
Somehow being able to sense it. Even draining the Poua lake to reveal an estimated 10 more tons of ore. Something we would have never found until a drought uncovered.
“How did you Awaken to your powers anyways?” I finally work up the nerve to ask. Such things are usually kept secret to prevent enemies from learning all your abilities.
“To be honest I have no idea. I was led to the city for healing and when I found out they were Awakening people somehow I just couldn’t not go there instead.
You have no idea of the weight of the debt we owe your friend Asriel. What he did for us… teaching us how to Awaken is a priceless gift.
“Until you Awaken yourself you will never understand how much was denied our people all these generations. Its like the hand of the Trinity comes down and reveals the paths available to us.
“A small peek at the divine, or what’s possible with discipline, dedication and time.” He sigh…
“I honestly had no idea what to do when all my meridians burst open like that. All the lectures that were given and the advice went out the window.
“I just opened mysel
f to as much of whatever was happening as possible and I just enjoyed it. Letting it go where it willed, a roaring torrent of molten insubstantial energy.
“I don’t even know how long it lasted. All I know is that at the end of it I was whole in a way I didn’t know I wasn’t complete. Beyond just being blinded and then being able to see.”
“How do you see with that blindfold anyway.” I’ve been itching to ask and now that’s he’s so talkative it’s my chance.
“I don’t see with my eyes when this is on but I still see more than I ever did when I had two working eyes. Its hard to explain but I can feel everything around me with another sense that has been dormant until now.”
“Like Asriel’s spacial awareness maybe.” I say on reflex and am surprised that Gorr knows what I’m referring to.
“Yes its sort of like that but spacial awareness is a skill anyone cal learn. This is something one can only Awaken to. Its deeper.
“Imagine if your body was an entire pool of water and you could feel all the fish or anything else that’s submerged into your body at all times. Not sure I’m doing it justice but its almost like that.
“I just know everything around me as though I had extra hands feeling and tasting everything all around me.”
I nod. “Asriel told me of his Master Zaraya Zaraki I think her name was, that Awakened in a similar manner. Letting the Awakening Mana direct its own path.”
I tell what I know about Awakening, he tells me his opinion and what he’s learnt since. We enjoy the night, something I didn’t even realise I’ve missed these past few months fighting the war. I was emotionally exhausted and I didn’t even realise.
The speed of the wind picks up and I enjoy the blow on my face. We talk about inconsequential things, eat fruit and drink mead. The drink of my roots, not the ale of the dwarves, though it has its virtues.
The night becomes long as we occasionally add wood to the fire. All the while I’m soothing my zanpakutō with my spiritual pressure. ‘I’m sorry my baby, my friend.’
Real wolves eventually come to investigate, coming close and sniffing at Gorr curiously. I grin at that, I wonder if he smells like one of them.
That thought is answered as two of them stay, sitting by his feet while the rest wonder off into the night. I grin at his grimace, though he may still have reservations about the whole shape changed thing. He seems to be trying to learn as much as he can. That’s something I admire about my people, we may be stubborn and obstinate but we learn.
The night creatures also come to investigate, some baths, snakes, spiders, a racoon, the loris and others. But this part of the woods isn’t so dangerous, not with the Jotnar lands so close. Lands that seem to be skirted altogether by the southerners most likely due to what they host. A large number of tribesmen refugees flocking there as well but surprisingly not being welcomed with open arms and affection. Even at a time like this.
The Jotnar have disappointed me to be honest with their conditions for providing refuge. Them wanting to extend the gene pool of the children of the Ancestral beast at a time like this is just not very neighbourly of them. But that thought will lead to my mood turning sour again.
“So what do you see when you look at me with your eyes?” I ask deep in the night, only two moons out tonight. The stars fill the sky, barley any space in the night sky for them to all fit it seems.
“I was meaning to tell you my boy but didn’t want you to be disappointed.” He says causing me to worry.
“What is it?” I ask and lean back, my stomach suddenly queasy.
“At the rate your going it will be another 60 to 100 years before you can Awaken.”
I’m relieved for a moment, not sure what I expected that could have been really bad. Maybe the witch having had a lingering effect on me or something.
“What do you mean?” I ask leaning back forward. Relieved and yet concerned about my future prospects.
“Well I can generally see how close a person is to Awakening. It’s very distinct the changing and densening of ether within a person.
“Most people’s ether has become denser and purer with time and with the amount of lives of power individuals they take. And this war has been great for Awakening people.
“Many a Barbarian is at the edge of Awakening from the number of lives of powerful foes they’ve taken.”
I nod in agreement. “It is said the only way for an Awakened King to become an Imperium Is through the blood of other Awakened Kings.” I say in agreement.
“Both a way for the kings to prove themselves and a way Gaia culls down the powerful I guess.” He says, shaking his head looking at me with his silver white eyes.
“You don’t seem to be accumulating ether at all. Your ether development is practically stagnant in fact.”
I nod my understanding as a lecture by Kazimoto comes back to me.
“It was mentioned that this may happened. That those that chose to follow the way of the soul samurai sometimes have difficulty developing further until their souls are fully healed.” I say.
“Well that must be it then, it isn’t as though the energy goes to waste though. I haven’t seen anyone else wielding a zanpakutō but it seems all the energy is going to your disembodied soul.” He says pointing at my sword, “and a little coming to you.”
“But not as ether?”
“No, as a type of energy that seems to be replenishing both the soul in your sword and your current soul a lot faster than I think they should.
“Your ‘zanpakutō’ is being a vampire on the battlefield. Taking something from it’s victims to help itself heal faster.” He says nodding.
“It’s ingenious really, what I’ve read and inferred about souls is that they heal the slowest of all wounds. Unless given outside assistance somehow with magic or some such.
“Your sword has adopted itself to being a syphon of energy that helps in assisting that healing, and growth.”
“My soul is growing?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
Gorr grunts. “From what I can see everyone’s soul grows, but very very slowly. But the older a person is the denser their souls seem.”
“I can’t believe you can see souls at all.”
“I’m not really seeing souls in so much the energy they contain.” The old hermit says quickly.
He is a very peculiar man and getting stranger with his Awakening. The hermit used to not really care about his appearance, in account of being blind I guess.
But now this Gorr before me is well groomed, his hair cut to be shoulder length, his beard trimmed, shortened and shaped. His nails cut implacably short and clean, and his clothes. His clothes look uniform and smart.
His boots going up to his shins, laced at the front then a clasp goes over the laces covering them. His pants made of a very supple well tanned leather. Dyed black and sown together with a tread that allows them to be elastic somehow.
His belt unnecessary to keep the pants on properly but ideal for attaching a weapon’s belt, which he has though he hardly needs it. Artifacts after being bound for some reason refuse to go into storage rings. Not just artifacts in fact but all bound weapons or items.
Gorr, even though Awakened, is yet to claim an artifact weapon. Though he has claimed a substantial amount of unworked ore for himself.
“Did you see my fight with Victor?” I ask in a low voice, stirring the fire with a stick, not looking at him.
“I saw that fight.” He says and we remain silent for a while. The old man is gonna make me ask, not that he looks very old anymore.
“What happened to me there, and why hasn’t Victor awakened despite the fae absolute restore?” I finally ask, still not making eye contact.
This is an opportunity for me to analyze myself and everything going on with me. Om is always going on about how Gorr has uncanny sight but doesn’t say anything about it since his transformation.
Now that we’re alone and I’ve got him talking I want to know what he sees in me. What’s wrong wi
th me…
“You went into the berserker rage and you became a weapon. It’s almost as simple as that though I’ve never seen it before or since. Your Rage seemed to have manifested more than just through your body.” He sighs, “this is also difficult to explain to anyone that hasn’t seen it.
“The two halves of your soul merged completely. What is in your sword and what is in you, and your sword was sheathed in a thin layer of soul as you cut. You injured his soul with yours boy, that’s why he hasn’t woken and that’s why he has scared despite the healing.
“He will wake soon enough, but only when his soul fully heals will his scares be able to be healed away.”
I nod at his words. I feel bad about that because I’ve realized that I’ve always been envious of Victor. And I used that envy to classify him as a dick and then justify my recent treatment of him. By recent I mean six months ago, the year is almost over.
“I want to follow your vampire friends to the smithing village they’ve established in the mountains next time they come to collect people that want to have soul forged weapons.” Gorr suddenly says after a comfortable silence.
I nod. “You want a soul weapon then?”
“It’s time I got serious about this fight and advancing myself I think.”
“Why weren’t you before now?” I ask more curious than out of accusation.
He shrugs. “My son has no berserker rage and is too embarrassed to see me because of how he treated me when I was blind. His mother, my first mate is dead for many years now and I have no intentions of taking another.
“The home that was built for me at Dean’s village was meant for a blind man, not me now. I have rooms at the Arena and I’m comfortable there but it isn’t a home.
“Somehow my wolf sense only allows me to fuck certain women, rare women. So I can’t enjoy myself to the extent of the other Awakened. Not unless its with the same woman anyways.
