Awakening

by P D Dennison

  “We will move to the edge of the village and split into two parties. Ravak has advised the path of approach. We’ll attempt to move out around them and flank the party from both sides. Kill them all save one. Let’s move out!”

  Although there was much rumbling among the men for being rousted from their homes at such an hour on the warnings of a banished young man, they followed Ekes’ orders and headed out toward the edge of town. Ravak planned to lead the way. His father stopped him with a hand on his chest before he left.

  “Where do you think you’re going, boy?”

  “I’m no boy! I’m a man! I suffered all the trials and earned the right to be called a man! I’m going to help defend my people. Stand aside.” Ravak looked his father in the eyes as he spoke and pushed past Ekes with the strength of his massive young frame.

  But the older man was quick and a seasoned warrior who’d been in many battles. He swung his spear down around his waist and gripped it in his other hand. With one fluid deft motion brought it to a halt under Ravak’s left foot and in front of the right. Ravak’s brash posture and rushed movement threw him off balance and he was sent tumbling into the dirt sprawling on his belly with his hands out in front of him. He quickly wheeled around to face up at his father as he spit the dirt from his mouth. The old bastard stood above him laughing with the spear slung over his shoulder and one hand on his hip in a cocky manner. Only a moment earlier he’d been proudly announcing to the village how Ravak had come to save them and now this?

  “For a man, you sure lack the balance and patience of a TRUE Winter Wolf.” Ekes laughed harder.

  He trotted off toward the edge of town to meet the other men. Ravak could feel tears welling up in his eyes and his lip began to quiver. Why did the old man treat him this way? Why had he never been outwardly proud of Ravak or shown any sense of pride for his son’s growth into a man, an accomplished hunter and tanner, and even as he became a young warrior? It seemed Ravak couldn’t win with him. He realized in that moment, lying in the dirt, that it wouldn’t matter what he did, his father was never going to change the way he treated him. He’d accomplished what he’d come back into the village for. He’d warned his people of danger and now he had another task to tend to. He needed supplies and he needed to get back to Turynn and Manya. He rose to his feet, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and took a deep breath to help heal his wounded pride.

  Screw that old goat and his stubborn hide, Ravak thought to himself as he walked over to the large, raised hut of the old shaman.

  The village witchdoctor, Kadok, didn’t like Ravak, but he needed some of the Healing Elixir if Manya had any chance of surviving the life threatening wounds she’d suffered at the hands of the Deep Fiend. He wrapped on the knocker outside the hut and waited patiently.

  “Go away!” hissed the raspy old voice from within. “Let an old man sleep, ye’ damn fools!”

  “Kadok, it’s Ravak! I’m in need of medicine to help a wounded woman back up in the mountains.”

  “Ravak? I had a dream about you last moon,” came another hiss. “Go away! You always were a stupid boy and you’re not welcome in my home!” barked the old conjurer. This was par for the course with this crotchety old fool. Ravak shook his head and kicked the dirt.

  “Kadok! I demand you let me in. A woman’s life depends on it. She’s mortally wounded by the Deep Fiend and if I don’t get some Healing Elixir back to her she will surely perish!” He was beginning to get quite annoyed at the old man’s game now.

  “Good!” came the old mystic’s heated response. “If she’s a friend of yours, she’s likely a damn fool and one less fool in the wyrld would do us some good! Now get lost, you brash young pup, and let an old man have his rest!”

  Ravak turned red with fury. The wicked old man had injured what little pride his father’s lashing had left him with. He’d slept very little, run for the better part of a day, and been in two heated battles that nearly cost him his life. He wasn’t going to let this rickety old bag of bones dictate whether Manya Silverleaf would live or die.

  He stomped up the three steps to the witchdoctor’s hut and booted the door in while at the same time yelling;

  “I’m coming in, Kadok!”

  The old man, still in bed and became lost in a ruffle of hide blankets at the shock of his door being booted in. Kadok scrambled to his feet to meet his intruder.

  “Kadok! Where are your Healing Elixirs? A person’s life depends on it. Tell me now, you little, old fool!”

  Kadok was much less imposing without his full headdress, mask, and various creepy totems he usually had on his person. For the first time, Ravak saw him for what he truly was; a timid, little, old man in a loincloth, openly afraid of the huge young Barbarian who’d bashed his door in.

  “Now, now, Ravak, don’t get so excited. I’ve a store of the elixirs right here.” Kadok reached down for a crate on the floor beside a large alter he kept for performing his rituals.

  Ravak looked around the hut as the old mystic scrounged for some bottles of medicine, muttering incoherently as he did so. The hut was like any other in their village, wood, mud and thatch but much larger due to Kadok’s respected station within the community and a site messier than Ravak’s mother’s hut. The only exception was a large ceremonial fire pit directly in the center of the room with a massive iron cauldron hung over it warmed by a low fire.

  The walls were lined with shelves filled with jars all carefully marked and catalogued for the shaman to make his various mystic brews and to perform his magick rituals with. There was a giant black crow stuffed and sitting as if perched atop one of the joists in the roof. It gave Ravak the creeps; it looked so lifelike. There were various masks hanging from the walls each more scary and evil looking than the next. Some were in the form of foxes with hides and eyes attached, some in the form of wolves. There was an impressive eagle mask as well. Ravak had never seen the witchdoctor wear the eagle headdress before and he walked over and reached out to touch the brilliantly preserved plumage.

  “Don’t touch that!” snapped the old conjurer as he jumped between Ravak and the impressive looking piece of finery. “It’s enchanted and only I can touch it or its powers will dwindle.”

  “What’s it for?” asked Ravak as he peered around the little old man at the beautiful eagle plumage, the old man swatting at his still outstretched hand.

  “None of your damn business! That’s what it’s for! Now here! Take these potions and get out!” The old witchdoctor shoved three bottles of Healing Elixir at Ravak and shoved him back toward the door. He grabbed for his staff and a wolf headdress, which he quickly donned slightly cocked on his head.

  Ravak thought the old shaman to look quite a comical. Kadok threateningly gesticulated at him with the staff to move toward the broken door. He chuckled, but backed toward the door with his free hand up in a sign of passivity. The old man was now hopping at him and lunging threateningly with the staff and howling as if he might actually attack. The head of the staff was a small fox’s skull with hawk’s feathers affixed to its neck. It was supposedly enchanted. A powerful totem for doling out curses from what Ravak had heard. He was doubtful at the power of the staff or the old fool considering his current appearance, but he smiled broadly and backed out of the hut peacefully. A Far cry from the nightmare creature he had dreamed was doling out curses last moon, he thought to himself.

  “Thank you, Kadok! Manya and Turynn Silverleaf thank you too for you have saved her life this eve without even breaking your crusty facade to do so!” Ravak laughed out loud as he wheeled around to leave.

  “You’d best get out of here before I turn you into a toad, boy! I’ve had just about enough of your childish teasing!” The old man lunged at Ravak from the steps of his hut wearing nothing but a loincloth and the half cocked wolf headdress while brandishing his fox staff.

  Ravak looked back and laughed again as he ran off down the street toward his own hut to see his mother and gather up the last of what he needed b
efore heading back up into the High Pass. His mother must have stayed awake when his father left the hut as there was still light coming from the windows. Excitement filled Ravak at the thought of seeing her again. He burst through the door looking around for her. She stood over by the fire tending a pan of some sort of meat that was sizzling away.

  “Mum? Little late for supper isn’t it?”

  “Ravak! Oh, my son! How are you?” she exclaimed, putting her fork down and rushing over with her arms open to hug her boy.

  Ravak hugged her long and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I’m doing real well, mum. I’ve been camping up in the foothills and I’ve been hunting and tanning. I even found a ram and tamed him. His name is Sleipner. I’m planning to travel across the Mystpeaks into the cities of the south to trade and explore.”

  Ravak went on to explain the tale of the Deep Fiend and the two injured travellers he’d saved and of the goblin search party he’d encountered as well.

  His mother’s eyes were wide with astonishment as Ravak unwound the chaotic tale. They sat and ate a nice bit of venison with some fresh bread she’d baked that morning and talked of Ravak’s future plans. He reassured her more than once that he planned to return home to the village to tell her of his travels, but he simply could not be bound to the life of a Winter Wolf hunter. He told her of the insatiable curiosity he burned with to see the wyrld and to learn of the things that happened outside the clan.

  “Well, Ravak, I’m very proud of you for what you’ve done already and I understand you’re wanting to find your way. Your father’s been hard on you and you need to make your life out from under his shadow.”

  Ravak’s smile disappeared at the mention of his father and he lowered his head as he felt his face redden with shame and frustration. He felt the tears well up in his eyes. Why couldn’t the old man be proud of him like his mother was? He had excelled at everything he’d done in his life. That should make any father proud.

  “Well, mum, I don’t think dad cares for me much. He never really has. I don’t know why. All I’ve ever done is tried to make him proud and for some reason, he feels I’m less than a man, not worthy to fight alongside my own people and he laughs at me.” Ravak rubbed at his eyes to prevent the flow of tears from becoming visible.

  “Oh, it’s not as bad as all that, son. He’s stubborn and prideful. He brags about you. Whenever he’s around those old fools at the Council meetings or when we go down to the town hall to eat with the others. All he does is talk about how you are out on your own already at seventeen and how you’re making a good living as a hunter. He doesn’t even know what you’ve told me and he still brags. He’s really very proud of you, Ravak. He just has a tough time showing it. Winter Wolf men are not good with their feelings. You are the exception to that rule and I’m afraid it’s done you more harm than good as you came up in the clan. I’ve tempered your warrior’s spirit with the love of a good mother so that when you marry, you’ll be good to your wife and gentle in your treatment of her and your children.” She rubbed his shoulder and wiped a tear away from the young man’s eye with her apron as she spoke.

  Ravak brushed her hand away and rose. He walked over to the window to look out, his brow furrowed in frustration.

  “He brags about me to the town’s folk? Really? Why? All he’s ever done is push me and tell me I’m not good enough and I would never amount to anything. If what you say is true, why would he be so cruel to a son he loves so dearly?” Ravak waved his arms in exasperation.

  “Ravak, I know it’s hard to accept, but he really does love you and you are his greatest joy. Hopefully he’ll soften with age and will come to realize that talking to you about life and how proud he really is of you is far more important than maintaining his appearance of stone in front of the other hunters. Hopefully he’ll come to realize you’re among the best and the brightest of our people and that you and yours will usher in a new era for the clan.” She rubbed his arm and reached for his hand to pull him close for another hug, standing upon her tip toes to kiss his forehead as she did.

  “I’d love to stay and chat, but I really have to get back to Turynn and Manya. They need this medicine and I need to return to the campsite and get some sleep. I don’t think I’m even thinking straight anymore. I’ve been running for a day straight and it’s another day back. Thank you for supper. I’m going to borrow some of dad’s whisky and ale. Luv’ you!”

  He scampered around the hut now like when he was a boy gathering up supplies and filling a pack, he grabbed from one of his father’s trunks. He filled it with a few skins of ale and whisky, and threw in a couple blocks of cheese his mother gave him. She made up a special bag for him filled with all sorts of wonderful spices so he could cook things a little more flavorfully than all the dried salted venison jerky he’d been eating. She even tied two nice pots onto the pack for him. After he’d given her a brief explanation, she supplied him with one of her finest travelling dresses for him to take back to the poor, injured and naked Manya who laid suffering back at the camp site. He gave his mother one last kiss and hug then he bounded out the door with packs swinging and pots clanking as he went. Off he ran, for the edge of town before his mother could finish her sentence telling him to be careful.

  He passed his father and the war party on his way out onto the plains. They were returning with their captive. He stopped to meet his father and see what had happened. “How did it go? Did anyone get hurt?”

  “No, we were ready for them. I don’t think they were expecting to find us coming out onto the plains to meet them. They had nowhere to run, but they tried anyway. They don’t seem very bright, sure are violent little cusses! I’ll give them that! They put up a hell of a fight for their size! Other than a couple of scrapes and cuts, we’re all fine and we cut them down pretty quickly. You’ll see some goblin heads on pikes on your way back up toward the hills. We left them as a warning to the rest should anyone come looking for them.” He stopped and paused a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “Ravak, you’ve done a good thing here today. Had you not warned us, Baaradon would likely have been killed and none of us would even have known until those little bastards were inside one of our huts again! People could have died, but you prevented that. You did well, son.” He placed a hand on Ravak’s shoulder.

  Ravak could tell it was difficult for the old man to get the words out. This was the most profound conversation they’d ever had.

  “Thank you, father. I’m happy you’re proud of me.” He wanted to say more, but he felt his face redden and his voice crack as he spoke. “I have to go now. I have people depending on me to get back up to the High Pass. A young woman’s life depends on it. I’ll come back and visit you and mum again one day. I promise.” He took off at a quick jog with pack rustling and pots clattering. He looked back and waved goodbye to his father, who stood looking proudly out over the plain at his son as he strode off into the dark of the evening.1

  1 An introduction to the Study of the History of the Arcane Arts

  “Let it be known to the apprentice with aspirations for magedom that before one can learn to wield magick that he or she, as the case may be, must first understand its history, it’s place in the present day wyrld, and it’s intended future, in that order.

  Firstly we will examine the history of magick and to do so one must become familiar with the schools there in. Each school or sphere as they are more properly referred to, is represented by a color matching the aura of the magick that is the central focus of its students’ study. In turn then each color represents a different Sphere of Power. There is blue for Water Magick as well as healing and protection. Green for nature, shamanism, and Conjuration Magick. White for Air Magick, truth and justice, as well as Enchantment Magick. Purple & black for evil Blood Magick and Necromancy. Yellow and orange for the summoning of Fire Magick and brown for the summoning of Earth Magick.....”

  - A.M. Xanaathos Excelsiior, The Study of the History of the Arcane Arts, Season: 1002 A.1, R
equired reading for any first season apprentice at the High Tower of Sorcery.

  Chapter 7

  Dragon’s Eggs

  Ravak got back to the campsite as promised by mid afternoon on the second day. Absolutely exhausted, he couldn’t remember when he’d ever pushed himself so hard before. His clothes were covered in sweat from head to toe in spite of the chill spring air. He was badly dehydrated from running so long without stopping. He ran into the camp and fell to his knees at Manya’s side. Infection had set in and she seemed in terrible shape. The sweet scent of decay had set it. It made Ravak want to vomit but he maintained his composure for her sake. Turynn had not yet returned from gathering wood and water for the day.

  Ravak carefully uncorked one of the potion bottles, then held her lips open and poured small amounts into her mouth a few drops at a time so as not to spill any of the precious Healing Elixir. After he’d given her about one third of a bottle, he replaced the cork and rolled over, lying down on the ground beside her in the dirt and stared at the blue afternoon sky in the canyon high above while he caught his breath.

  He breathed in deeply and yawned. He couldn’t remember ever being so tired in his whole life. His eyes closed and he fell into a deep and much needed slumber right there on the rocky ground under a blue spring sky.

  He awoke to the familiar playful whinnying of Sleipner. A night sky filled the top of the canyon and a fire crackled away beside him. He heard Turynn’s voice laughing and talking to Sleipner as he sat up to survey the scene. The two were having a grand time. Turynn had a piece of balled up dirty hide he was tossing around the big clearing in the dark and Sleipner would run off to fetch it and bring it back.

  When Sleipner saw Ravak awake, he kicked in the air and greeted him playfully nudging the large man to get up and join in the fun. Ravak rubbed his head and tossed the disgusting soggy rag ball out into the night for Sleipner to fetch and rose to his feet.