He returned the blade to the table and looked down at his brother. “You know,” he began, “to be a warrior among The Followers of the Urden’Dagg is much more than just the privilege of carrying a sword. You must understand that every word you speak could be your last. Every act you make could be your final. Fear is a word unspoken and not entertained in the warriors mind. The only thing we know is how to cut off the head of our opponent, or even stab another in the back…” his voice trailed off as his memory drifted to the happenings of the past.
Neth’tek hesitated before speaking in a very shy voice, asking, “Are you like that?”
“Like what?” Dril said, seeming to forget what he’d been saying.
“A warrior,” Neth’tek stammered.
There was a moment of hesitation as Dril’ead eyed his brother suspiciously. His brows furrowed and his lip curled as he spoke. “A warrior must know also how to respect his elders and not ask foolish questions,” he scolded. He raised a hand to strike the boy but stopped, Neth’tek flinching in recognition of the pain that would follow.
“I am, much like you’ll soon be,” Dril’ead began; his hand raised still, “a warrior of The Followers.”
Chapter Ten
Warrior Born
As Vaknorbond was reading from the ancient manuscripts of his ancestors, he was visited by a breathless guard sent to summon him to the Circle of Power where Leona’burda was said to be waiting for him. With no more information than that, hesitating for only a moment, Vak sealed what he was reading and followed as the guard led him down the hall.
They passed through the anteroom of the throne room, and the throne room itself, then went through the set of double doors leading into the large room known as the Circle of Power. There Leona stood in one circle with Gefiny to her left. On her right was an empty circle where Vaknorbond would stand, and beyond that stood Dril’ead with arms folded and Neth’tek in the circle beside him, standing, looking up with all the others, into a glowing orb in the center of a circle of circles.
The guard halted and Vak proceeded to the circle beside Leona. He stood and looked into the orb, frowning. “What is the meaning of this?” Vak asked Leona.
She held a finger to her lips to silence him. “The Branch of Swildagg has contacted us.”
Vak turned to the bright blue orb before them. “What do they want?”
“If you’ll be silent perhaps we’ll find out!” she hissed.
Neth’tek chuckled at that; though he quickly covered his mouth as everyone turned an angry glare upon him, and his humor faded.
Suddenly a hooded face appeared in the orb, the features just visible enough that they recognized it as Lord Hestage Swildagg. He cleared his throat and spoke in a calm voice, saying, “Vulzdagg, thank you for your respect in accepting our call.”
“What is it you want?” Leona said to the face.
“Just a simple answer to a simple question,” the orb replied.
Neth’tek looked at the faces of each of his family members, and saw that they were confused and afraid. He looked back to the face as it continued.
“Tell us, Vulzdagg,” began the voice, “Was it the Urden’Dagg that destroyed Zurdagg, or was it something else? Did you happen cut the Branch off?”
Neth’tek looked again at his family members as they looked to one another, struggling to answer, fearful and apprehensive. Neth’tek was confused, never hearing of Zurdagg before.
Was it another Branch, He thought, destroyed by the Urden’Dagg?
He was taught to always look to their deity as a great and powerful thing that could destroy a nation in minutes. So what was this stranger talking about?
Vaknorbond’s steady voice interrupted his thoughts as he answered the specter in the orb, claiming to be of the Swildagg Branch. Vaknorbond’s answer was spoken just as smoothly as the question was asked, simply stating, “No.”
“No? Then I must beg your pardon for the trouble. But please keep in touch with us. This is Swildagg of the Urden’dagg,” the face said, and then the orb shrank quickly until it vanished.
Everyone looked to the other with solemn expressions. Neth’tek, still confused, waited for some hint as to what was happening.
“It appears suspicion has aroused of our doings,” Leona said to the others. “Not a word of this meeting is to be spoken.” She looked each one of them in the eye; her gaze lingered on Neth’tek last. “It never happened.”
“What never happened?” Neth’tek dared to ask.
All looked at him. Not angry, but without compassion.
“The Branch of Zurdagg was destroyed some years ago,” Vak stated flatly. “People wonder how it happened, and on seeing a monument of the Urden’Dagg built their by unknown hands makes people wonder still, and dare to begin guessing if it was done by another one of the Branches of The Tree. So questions are asked, and answers are given, be them truthful or now.”
“It was too long ago now for any threats to be taken for the destroying of Zurdagg. Almost four years ago it happened,” Dril said. He looked at Neth’tek with scorn. “On the day you were born.”
“What?” Neth’tek exclaimed in shock. “I was born the day that Branch fell?”
Leona shot Dril’ead an angry glare that forced him to look away. “To satisfy your confusion, Neth’tek, I’ll tell you one thing.” She paused and examined Neth’tek with her dark eyes. “We did destroy Zurdagg.”
Neth’tek was horrified. He didn’t say any more for fear of the answers he’d receive. But he looked from one face to the other with the hope that one of them would smile and deny what his mother had said. However, only stiff expressions looked back at him.
“You were warrior born,” Gefiny said to him, no amount of sympathy in her voice for the child.
“Don’t look so horrified!” Dril snapped at Neth’tek. “You’re a warrior, born in the hour of battle. Your destiny is none other than to battle the monsters that threaten this realm. Be proud of who you are.”
“Yes,” Leona said, “and let’s be done with it.” She turned away from the others and departed the room, Gefiny and Dril following behind her.
Vak stayed a moment longer, eyeing his son carefully. “Come,” he said, turning to the door, “little warrior.”
Neth’tek followed him out. His life was different after that day. He looked at each member of his family as though there was some hidden secret within each one, though from this same experience he also felt strengthened. He felt as if he was no longer a boy, but a warrior.
A boy bound to becoming a warrior.
Book Two
Why?
Why: The simple word is so simple, but in the same way so hard to say. If we could just learn to ask “Why?” then perhaps all the questions, all the problems that we face, will finally end. Wars are started by a question similar to this. A simple misunderstanding of another can lead to chaos. And soon, before we can ask why, the world has already crumbled, and the victory has already been claimed over the corpses of our friends and enemies.
An enemy is just a misunderstood friend, in some ways, who’s lost his or her way in the passage of life, and has stumbled one to many times into the caverns of questions and has never found the answers. If we can only make ourselves understand that we will never be satisfied with the destruction of others; only guilt and grief are found under those shattered bricks.
But how can one understand that outcome, when all they know is to destroy? How can one hope to fix the wrongs, when they don’t know how to build? All you know is how to burn, and from your fire comes the smoke, the smoke of eternal grief and hatred; not only toward those whom you misunderstand, but yourself and the wrongs you have done.
Let’s begin to understand our misunderstood friends, or in other words, enemies.
~ Neth’tek Vulzdagg
Chapter Eleven
Growing Stronger
A beaked head with extremely large black eyes emerged from the cloud of black smoke and blue flames before M
aaha, but The Fallen did not even acknowledge it being there. She continued to mutter the words spelled by the runes, and so far she wasn’t aware of its approach from the world below. Long thin arms extended toward her, claws scrapped against one another, causing sparks to scatter across the floor. The cloud of smoke cleared, and one could easily note how its lower half was still submerged in the earth below it.
A single swipe caught Maaha on the cheek, drawing blood that ran down the side of her face.
She flinched at the pain, and gritted her teeth, but still continued to breathe steadily with the magic and speak the words of the summons.
Another emerged from behind, and emerging from the earth it raised its clawed hand and sliced three thin lines of blood across Maaha’s bare back.
The Fallen screamed the next sentences of the spell in agony, but refused to yield to them or open her eyes. She had grown stronger in the work of the summoning it seemed, but she was still frail to the pain and anguish she received. She was starved, and hadn’t drunken for several hours. This was her third summon, and she could already feel her heart weakening under the stress.
Sweat soaked her entire body, and she felt light headed and as though she was about to pass out. But she resisted still, and again and again refused to give up herself to the demons that surrounded her, slashing cuts across her chest and back.
Maaha was strong, but she was not strong enough to withstand the torment of the demons long enough, and soon she was struck hard across the face, blood splattering on the floor, and collapsed onto her face. She bled from a dozen wounds, and the cold stone floor took her.
Maaha was too weak. And yet, even as her face struck the cold stones, she awoke from her long meditation. Her strength had grown.
Chapter Twelve
Destiny and Dilemma
Neth’tek’s schooling as a child consisted mostly of sword play and studying books given him by Dril’ead on the subject of swords, sorcery, and the taming of the many monsters of the Shadow Realm. Dril’ead had once warned Neth’tek, when he was at the age of five years, about coming too close to a Basilisk that wasn’t his own; saying, “The Basilisk answers only to its owner, and if any other person or creature were to come too near it will strike, and could kill you with a single swipe of its vicious tail.”
The ages from six through ten were based on learning the language of The Followers and the Urden’Dagg, but the sacred speech of the Urden’Dagg was only used in prayer and forbidden in any other way. There was also another thing to consider at this stage of life as a Follower of the Urden’Dagg, and that was the station of which Neth’tek would serve among his people; whether it was to be a valiant warrior or an honorable mage.
Neth’tek carefully thought on these two stations with great consideration, spending much of his day attempting to balance a sword on his fingertips or swing a staff about while calling out minor spells. Many times he would summon an object toward himself that would come uncontrollably fast and smash into the wall, or ceiling, and then receive a smack on the head from Dril’ead as he tutored him.
But as the weeks past, and he practiced more and more, he was soon able to draw an object without causing so much damage as to be chastised. He would balance two scimitars in his hands as he went through the minor maneuvers against a practice body, and then received the pleasure of looking up into his elder brother’s face to see a slight smile. But then Dril’ead would turn away and say, “I’ll be impressed when you can fight a real enemy.”
Gefiny would sometimes quiz Neth’tek on spells, or on defenses against a certain attack, but apart from that she rarely spoke to him. Instead she kept a steady eye on him as he threw small knives into practice bodies, called objects to him, or attempted to lift a heavy broad sword that simply ended with him rubbing his callused hands.
Leona’burda would often call for Neth’tek’s presence in the throne room where she would speak to him concerning his work and practices, making certain his studies were getting him somewhere. She began more and more frequently to inspect the glyphs on his brow, markings that he was told would eventually tell them what station he was chosen by the Urden’Dagg to serve in. such things troubled Neth’tek, and would often times examine his reflection in candlelight and the glyph covering his forehead beneath his hair. A Priest of the Urden’Dagg itself would come and reveal to his family his destiny.
Vaknorbond’s throne remained empty whenever Neth’tek was summoned before his mother. But when Vak did appear before Neth’tek, most often during the more important of meetings that required his attention as Lord of Vulzdagg, overseeing the patrolling of the complexes outer passages and landscapes, he seemed weary and laden with a heavy burden. Of course Neth’tek couldn’t guess the cause of such a weight, other than that the services required to run a city such as Vulzdagg were often times compelling.
Since Gefiny and Dril’ead both went too these meetings with the Lord and the Lady of Vulzdagg, Neth’tek would often times find himself alone. In these silent moments he would sit on his cushioned bed, trying to picture himself many years from then, fighting monsters and exploring the far reaches and dark passages of the Shadow Realm. But what thought lingered most in his mind was the known factors he had been told concerning the all great and powerful Urden’Dagg, and that they should always mind what they say about it or do beneath its ever watchful eye. What had the Urden’Dagg in store for him? He wondered still, the time of its revelation drawing ever nearer with each passing year. Once he was eleven it would all be revealed, he believed.
*****
Once, while Neth’tek was meeting with his mother, Dril’ead and Gefiny and even Vaknorbond present in the room, a guard of the Circle of Power burst in from the Circle of Power, eyes wide with worry. “My Lord and Lady!” he declared, bowing apologetically, “There is a contact coming through the Circle of Power, but I cannot tell its origin!”
“Can you not see that we are busy?” Leona’burda said to the guard, gesturing to her children gathered before her.
“I can. But, my noble masters, there is something happening. Something may have gone terribly wrong.” The guard’s voice began to quiver with fear.
Vaknorbond rose. His was face stiff with concern as he understood the guardsman’s fear, and went with him into the Circle of Power. He took his place in one of the circles and looked up into a blue orb hovering in the center of the circle of circles, and eventually Leona’burda and her children came in and took their places in the nearest circles.
“Has a voice been heard?” Dril asked the guard. “Do we know who it is?”
“Yes,” answered the guard. “The words are unclear but understandable enough to be that of a Follower. The Identity, though, is unknown.”
They all turned to the orb as it shuddered and began swirling, warping into different shapes and sizes. A face was blurred within that none in the room could recognize, and it bent and shifted in shape with the orb. “Greetings, most gracious Vulzdagg,” a garbled voice said from within, “It has been a few years since we last met. And, I admit, our last meeting was quite a memorable occasion.”
“Who are you?” Vaknorbond demanded boldly of the specter. “Name yourself and your Branch among the Urden’Dagg tree.”
“I am afraid I cannot,” the blurred voice said.
“Explain,” Vak commanded.
There was a moment of silence as the voice contemplated the thought. “I don’t have a Branch.”
Everyone in the room exchanged expressions of terror. All, that is, except Neth’tek. He didn’t like the voice, feeling very uneasy when it spoke and wishing he had a blade in either hand to defend himself, but uncertain what it meant. Vaknorbond, however, looked from his horrified family with sudden realization at the orb hovering before them.
“Zurdagg,” Vaknorbond stuttered in unbelief.
It can’t be, thought Neth’tek as he remembered what they had told him about the fallen Branch. The Zurdagg’s were the experts of spell casting among The Follo
wers of the Urden’Dagg, he knew.
“Yes, Zurdagg,” the voice hissed. “You should remember us well, since it was you who destroyed us.”
The voice paused as the orb began to clear and the voice with it. The face was now clear enough that they knew beyond a doubt that it was Maaha Zurdagg, the last of the Zurdagg’s, and no doubt the most powerful. “Return to me what you have taken, and perhaps I will spare your lives,” she said.
“You!” cried Dril’ead, wrath filling his senses. He gripped the hilt of his sword as if to draw it.
“Be silent, Dril’ead!” Vaknorbond commanded his son, and then turned back to Maaha. “What do you have to threaten us with when you have nothing?”
“I hold the secret that you hold most dear. A secret that if shared would anger the hearts of those who oppose Vulzdagg and loved Zurdagg; a secret that could start a war and bring the wrath of the Urden’Dagg upon all, and cause not only chaos but destruction to all Branches of its Tree. If this secret is shared, all Branches will come to a dramatic and sudden end.”
Neth’tek now understood. He looked around with a growing fear that the words of this stranger would come true, though he didn’t know for certain the secrets that she kept. But from the expressions of his family he guessed that they were better kept secrets.
“Return to me my power and I’ll forget all that has happened between you and me, Vulzdagg,” she said in a low, threatening voice. “Give me my power, and all that Zurdagg stood for, and your life, along with the lives of millions, will be spared. To undo the damage which has been done would be an honorable thing. To disregard my words would be both foolish and selfish; for you would rather keep my power and allow these people to die.”
Shadow Realms: Part One of the Redemption Cycle Page 7
