by Sam Ferguson
“You did well,” Reshem called out.
Jonathan turned to see the tall man and he had to fight the urge to put an arrow to the string and threaten him for what he had done. If Griff hadn’t trotted up to Reshem and nuzzled the stranger’s leg like an old friend, Jonathan may have just followed his first impulse, but upon seeing his cavedog’s reaction, his anger softened.
“And how have you been my little friend?” Reshem asked Griff.
“You speak as if you know him?” Jonathan said.
“I do,” Reshem replied. “I found him deep inside Shuldern. He was down with a whole litter of siblings. Who do you think taught them to fight demons and how to hunt?”
“No, the driver said he found them in the caves.”
“To be sure, but that was after I had trained them up how they needed to be. I thought you could use a friend,” Reshem said. “Cavedogs are rather my specialty. You see, they come from a place called Kendualdern. I brought them to Terramyr from there a long time ago. I’ve been working with them ever since. Every now and again there is a bad egg, but by and large, cavedogs are the most loyal, honorable creatures I have ever found.”
“How long have you been watching me, exactly?” Jonathan asked.
“Oh, you caught my eye a while back. I have been proud of the way you have been developing too.” Reshem bent down and scratched Griff under his snout. “Soon Jonathan will be as clever as you, won’t he?”
“What do you want?” Jonathan asked hotly.
“Strange,” Reshem said as he set his spear against the oak tree and then folded his arms. “I would have thought your first question would be how Miranda was faring.”
“I already saw her,” Jonathan said. “She rescued me and Jason from the cell in the tower, remember?”
Reshem turned his head slightly and arched his brow. “Come again?”
“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Jonathan said. “You sent her back, from the future, and she rescued me and Jason from death in the tower. Then we killed Brykith and broke the scrying pool he had. Just like you asked. She said that Ruben and Raven were saved too.”
“So it works then?” Reshem asked. A large smile crossed his face and he jumped into the air. “YYYYEEEESSS!” He twirled around and then he bent down to grab Griff’s front paws. He lifted the lizard up onto his back legs and then danced with the cavedog the way an adult might dance with a child. “Oh this is wonderful news! I can save them all, little Griff. I can find them and save each and every one of them, you’ll see!”
“What are you on about?” Jonathan shouted. “You act as if you have no idea.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Reshem said as he let Griff back down on the ground and then petted the cavedog’s head.
“Griff, come here, boy,” Jonathan said. The young archer couldn’t explain why he had suddenly called Griff to him, other than perhaps just for the satisfaction of taking Griff away from Reshem. The cavedog obeyed promptly, and curled up at Jonathan’s feet. “You didn’t know she came back in time?” Jonathan clarified.
Reshem shook his head and flared his arms out to the side as he shrugged. “No idea,” he said loudly. “But,” he began as he put a single finger in the air. “This is great news indeed. Bigger than you can understand. It’s simply wonderful.”
“I will never see her again,” Jonathan said.
Reshem’s smile turned to an expression of realization. “Ah, yes, sorry about that.”
“You’re sorry?” Jonathan snapped. “You always knew I wouldn’t see her again, didn’t you?”
“Well, I didn’t know. I can’t read the future, but yes, I suspected. The chrysalis she is locked in is something I have seen and researched a fair amount. I told you that you would die before it ever opened. I thought that was a pretty fair, honest warning.”
“I just thought that if I did what you wanted, then maybe there would be a way to get around it. I thought with all of your powers, you might be able to open the chrysalis,” Jonathan said. “What exactly is your plan?”
“I can’t open a chrysalis without killing the person inside,” Reshem said. “Listen, you should be happy; if Ruben is saved then she will be happy. The two will be together, and they will have a wonderful little family.”
“But she told me that she was only marrying him to make her father happy,” Jonathan said.
“What else was she supposed to tell you?” Reshem asked. “She was trying to let you down easily. You both had a great adventure together, a couple of them in fact, but that isn’t what love is built on. You should listen to your brother more often. He already told you all of this.”
Jonathan stood there silently. He had known Jason was right for a long time now, especially after the encounter with the nymphs. It wasn’t that he was trying to hold onto a fantasy of Miranda, but he would have appreciated a better, more peaceful way to say good-bye for the last time.
Reshem cleared his throat and continued talking. “I have been looking for someone like Miranda for a very long time,” Reshem said. “You see, I have been hoping to find someone with the right power who can help me unlock the mysteries of time. A watcher is responsible for many worlds, and her ability to unlock time will help me save another one.”
“Another world?” Jonathan said.
“It’s not certain,” Reshem said with a smile. “Not yet, anyway. You have seen the results of our work, but I haven’t actually done it yet. I will have to wait until time passes and I find Miranda outside of her chrysalis. Then the work will begin. But you have given me great hope by just telling me that she succeeds in coming to you. I have more hope now than I have had for thousands of years.” Reshem pointed to Griff. “And you will be very proud of me, I assure you little friend.”
Jonathan slung his bow over his shoulder. “You will take care of her, right?”
Reshem nodded. “I will stand watch over Miranda until her transformation is complete.”
“Transformation?” Jonathan echoed. “You speak as if she isn’t human.”
Reshem nodded again. “It’s complicated, but I intend her no harm. I will keep my promise to protect her.” Reshem shook his head. “She will be the first sorceress to alter time. I can help her reach her full potential, and then we will do such marvelous things as you cannot imagine.”
“I’ll be dead by then,” Jonathan said. “She will sleep for another hundred and thirty years.”
“Oh, you have a few adventures left before you yet, Jonathan Haymaker. You can’t deny that itchy feeling in your soul forever. Sooner or later you will need to explore, and you shall do great things as well.” Reshem smiled. “We shall meet a few more times in your lifetime, I promise you. I, on the other hand, am not human, nor am I even from Terramyr,” he said. “A century is like the blink of an eye to me. I will be there when Miranda wakes, and you will watch what we do from your place in Volganor, and we shall make you smile with pride.”
“Volganor?” Jonathan said. “You speak as if you know I am destined for the Heaven City after I die.”
Reshem smiled. “I know a good man when I see one,” he said. “But don’t dwell on that now. You have a lot of life left to live.”
Jonathan shifted uncomfortably and glanced around. He wasn’t accustomed to talking about his eventual death. He changed the subject back to Miranda. “So, where is she now?” Jonathan asked. “Can I see her one more time?”
Reshem shook his head. “Where she is, you cannot follow. I’m sorry.”
Jonathan nodded. “Then go, you have the information you wanted, and Brykith will never find the Astral Crystal.”
“Actually, I was going to ask you to get something for me later on.”
“What?” Jonathan asked.
“Why, the Astral Crystal of course, what else?” Reshem said.
“But, Brykith is dead. The migot crystals have been returned to Shuldern. Surely Jaeger and the crystal are safe now. We won.”
Reshem stroked his chin. “But that�
�s just it,” Reshem said. “You haven’t finished your task yet. The crystal is still in danger.”
“No, Brykith is dead. Those that followed him are dead. The trolls are dead too. The tower is destroyed and there is no way anyone can use the altars or the scrying pool. I finished my task. The crystal is safe.”
“It is safe for now, but it is not permanently secure,” Reshem said. “Jaeger’s strength will fail him soon, and I will need to find a new champion to retrieve and protect the crystal.” The tall man held out his hand and his spear flew to him magically. He began to float in the air above the grass and he glanced around. “My time grows short. I must leave before the watchers discover what I am doing.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t see the future,” Jonathan said.
“I can’t, but I can see possibilities.” Reshem nodded once and his face took on a stoic expression. “You have time yet, a year or two perhaps, but I will need to call upon you one last time, Jonathan Haymaker.”
“Why me?” Jonathan asked.
“The answer to that should be obvious by now. You are a good man whom I trust. What other kind of person could I send?”
“Ziegler says you are a protector, is he right?” Jonathan asked, ignoring the many questions other Reshem had left unanswered.
“You already know the answer to that as well,” Reshem said. “I will call upon you when the time comes.”
“Why me?” Jonathan asked, louder this time, refusing to accept Reshem’s simple answer.
Reshem vanished in the air and left Jonathan alone in the grove with Griff.
He looked down to his cavedog and shook his head. “What do you say, Griff? Shall we answer him when he returns and be his puppets once more, or should we ignore him and leave him to his own tricks?”
Griff flicked his tongue out into the air and then closed his eyes once more.
He gathered his things and began the walk back to his home. Along the way he was met by Jimgi, a rather large, but unintelligent man that Jason had hired to help around the farm. Jimgi asked for Jonathan’s help in tracking another sheep that had run away. Jonathan sighed and agreed to help. As he searched for the lost sheep, he realized that he likely would answer Reshem’s call if it ever came. He was no longer satisfied with his life on the farm. Truth be told he had never been satisfied with the idea of living his life on the farm, and he had ghosts of his own that urged him to move along. He had ever been one for adventure. Jonathan would go, just as soon as Reshem returned. Until then, he would help around the farm and keep his eyes peeled for the tall stranger in green robes.
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Flight of the Krilo
Halsten crept slowly through a patch of ferns and skirted a large oak tree as he kept his eyes on the buck some fifty yards upwind of him. In his left hand he held a great bow that his father had given him when he had turned seventeen and come of age. That was nine years ago. In another nine years, he would be making a bow for his own son’s seventeenth birthday.
That is, assuming there was any game left to be hunted by that time.
The Feklyn woods had shrunken considerably since the time Halsten had started hunting. The dry desert in the east was expanding, and bringing with it a scarcity of water and abundance of sand and harsh winds. The animals were forced to migrate farther away in search of food. Some herds had futilely attempted to cross the Velik desert in the east. Those animals became food for carrion birds.
All of these facts throbbed in the back of Halsten’s mind. He knew he had to slay this buck and bring it back to his tribe. They needed the meat.
His feet inched along as quietly as though he were a ghost, floating across the ground. Despite the dry summer, his foot never set upon a fragile twig, nor on a crackling leaf. The deer never saw him coming.
Halsten nocked an arrow to his string and took in a silent breath as he drew it back to his right cheek. His green eyes sighted down the arrow, ensuring the missile would strike true. His fingers straightened, and the bowstring brushed the pads of his fingertips as it rushed forward to send the arrow on its way. The shaft spun in the air without a sound.
The deer looked up from its meal of clover and grass, but it didn’t evade the arrow. The missile sunk deep into the deer’s neck and the animal snorted violently before jumping and doing a half spin in the air. Then it fell to the ground.
“There shall be meat tonight in for the Gray Wolf tribe,” Halsten said to himself with a wide smile.
With any luck, his cousins Ingvar and Ivar, twins only one year younger than Halsten, would also be blessed by Akuhn, the great Wolf Goddess who granted their tribe success on their hunts.
Halsten slung his bow over his shoulder and went to the dead deer. He no longer cared for stealth, having already determined that this particular buck was alone and no other deer were in the area. He stopped a few feet away from the corpse and admired his trophy. The arrow had gone in through the middle of the neck, severing the major artery and causing a large puddle of blood to pool upon the ground.
The young Varvarr knelt down next to the corpse and bowed his head.
“Brother deer, I thank you for your life, which will now give my family strength. Go now, and run in the Sacred Valley of Akuhn.” Halsten pulled his field knife and turned the deer so that the belly faced him and the legs were pulled away so he could have clear access to clean the animal. He pierced the tough hide and began cutting back and forth as his knife made a long, straight slit and the guts began to fall out of the opening. Blood ran over his hands and caused hunks of fur to accumulate on the back of his fingers, but he didn’t mind. He removed all of the organs, tossing the intestines and bladder to the side as an offering for the scavengers. The kidneys and liver he took and wrapped in large maple leaves that had been stuffed into a pouch hanging from the left side of his belt. The heart he kept separate. He carefully wrapped it in dried corn husks and then tied it with a thin leather thong. He then opened the beaded flap of an intricately designed leather satchel and gently placed the heart inside. This was to be an offering to Akuhn in thanks for the bountiful hunt.
He then replaced his knife and was about to take the carcass up in his hands and sling it across his shoulders, but a noise from the trees to his right stopped him.
Halsten looked up and scanned the forest. He caught a glimpse of movement. A dark form behind a pine tree. His hand went down to the hatchet at his right side. His eyes continued to search the forest. Then, the form whirled around the tree and Halsten barely made out the hideous tusks protruding from the orc’s lower lip before it fired an arrow at him.
Halsten reached out with his left hand and yanked the dead buck’s antler up, jerking the whole carcass off the ground as he stood. The orc’s arrow thudded into the deer’s side, but failed to break through. Halsten dropped the deer and threw his hatchet. It spun end over end with astounding precision. The blade bit into the orc’s skull with a sickening crack! Halsten then pulled his bow as two more orcs came rushing at him from the side. Each of them were wearing expertly crafted leather armor and armed with swords. They howled in rage at seeing their comrade killed, and were coming in hard and fast.
The young Varvarr nocked an arrow in less than a second and fired it at the nearest orc. The foe’s eye shot wide as the arrow tore through its neck. Blood shot out to the side as the orc twirled on his toes and fell sideways to the ground. Halsten then tossed his bow to the side and drew his field knife. The weapon was long and straight, with a narrow tip that gave way to a wider, single-edged blade that was serrated along the back.
The orc came in with an overhead chop, but Halsten was prepared for that. He ducked to the left and lashed out with a lightning-fast slice that drew a gash
under the orc’s right armpit.
The orc screamed in pain and jumped away as it shifted its weapon to its left hand. Its right arm now hung limp at its side as blood began to ooze down the brown armor. Halsten kept his breathing even and steady as he maneuvered around to the side. The orc mimicked him as a mirror, circling around and matching each of Halsten’s steps. The orc was wounded now, and would not make a clumsy strike again. Halsten would have thrown the knife, but his field knife was not nearly so well balanced for that as his hatchet was. In truth, it was a tool meant only for skinning his prey. It was Halsten’s skill, more than anything else, that turned the knife into a deadly weapon capable of matching an orc with a sword.
The orc wrinkled its nose and then advanced two steps and feinted a thrust. Halsten stepped back, not stupid enough to try and parry a move like that. The orc advanced again and pulled its blade back to prepare for another strike, and then Halsten quick-stepped forward and put all of his weight into a front kick that landed heavily on the orc’s torso. The orc stumbled backward, but didn’t fall to the ground. However, in trying to keep its balance, it had moved its right arm quickly, and that opened the fresh wound a bit more.
Halsten could see the pain in the panting orc’s eyes.
“Khullan elviszi,” the orc spat.
Halsten did not speak the orc tongue, but he understood the name Khullan. It was the name of the fallen god who had been defeated by Icadion during the Ancient Era, some three hundred and sixty-five years ago. The young Varvarr sneered at the orc and said, “Khullan is dead, but do not fear. I shall send you to join him soon.”
The orc didn’t understand Halsten’s words any more than the young Varvarr understood orcish, but the sentiment was clear. The orc howled in rage and ran forward. A chop to the side, then a straight thrust followed by a diagonal slash had Halsten backpedaling away as fast as he could. His feet fell lithely upon the ground as his muscular torso weaved and dodged each strike. The orc sent in another thrust toward Halsten’s chest, and then the Varvarr made his move. He spun around the blade and then thrust his knife deep into the orc’s left shoulder. The orc snarled angrily as the knife tore through the joint.
