Warrior: The War Chronicles I

by Sean Golden

  “Mayrie, I missed you last night,” was all he said. Then he reached for her, forgetting the stone in his hand, which dropped to the ground.

  At first Mayrie resisted, holding her hands in front of her as Lirak’s arms encircled her. She ducked her head and pushed lightly against his chest. “Lirak, I can’t,” she said. “Not yet.”

  Lirak’s sudden intense desire changed into a deep sadness as he remembered her ordeal. He didn’t let her go. He pulled her to him and stroked her fiery hair with his left hand. “I am so sorry Mayrie,” he whispered. “I should have been there.”

  Mayrie stopped pushing against him. Tears spilled from her eyes and dripped onto Lirak’s shoulder. Then it was like a dam bursting and Mayrie and Lirak were on their knees in the grass, Lirak holding her while she sobbed great wracking sobs. If anyone saw them, nobody disturbed them.

  After a long time Mayrie’s sobs subsided. She sniffed and dried her eyes on her dress sleeve. She pulled back and looked at Lirak, her eyes puffy and red, and her face wet from crying.

  “I wanted to be pretty for you, and now look at me,” she sniffed.

  “There has never been anything prettier in the world to me,” Lirak said.

  Mayrie smiled and laughed. “You’ve changed, Lirak,” she said. “You’re still the same, but you’ve changed too. You are so hard now, that I hardly know you. But you make me feel so safe and good. I wish I could…” she stopped. “I know what you want, I want it too. But I can’t be like that Lirak.” Her tears started flowing again. “It’s so unfair,” she sighed. “I was so happy when you left, scared but happy. I knew you would succeed in your trial, and I made a dress for your Ko’Dimen.” She smiled at the memory.

  Then her smile faded, and pain filled her eyes. “But you didn’t come back,” she said, her voice faint and distant. “You weren’t there.” Her breath started coming out between sobs. “Oh Lirak, they hurt me! And they killed Tarii, they just kept on taking her and taking her and hitting her and taking…” her voice trailed off as she ran out of breath. “And the others too.” Her voice was stronger as she regained her breath. Her eyes narrowed, and she reached her hand to Lirak’s face where she caressed his cheek. “They strangled Tarii while they took her.” Her voice was hardening. “They stabbed Derin in front of her own husband, then they slit his throat.” Her voice was flat and emotionless now, and she looked away from Lirak.

  “I think they were just tired when they got done with me. I think they thought I was already dead. One kicked me in the side so hard, and it hurt so bad, but I didn’t move. I wanted them to think I was dead. I wanted to be dead. But they left me on top of Tarii.” She turned to Lirak again, her eyes still red and swollen, but now filled with an inner fire. “They laughed Lirak. They laughed as they gathered their things and walked away. I’ll never forget their laughter.”

  Lirak looked at Mayrie, and tears filled his own eyes. “I should have been there,” he said.

  “You would just have been killed too, and I wouldn’t be with you now. No I’m glad you weren’t there Lirak. I think that’s why I survived. You and I are meant to be together, I believe that now more than ever. That’s why we were spared.” Her eyes misted over again. Tears welled and her chest heaved against his as she took a deep breath. “And I can’t give you what a woman should give her husband. I can never give you that. I am so ashamed.” She put her head on Lirak’s shoulder and he felt the tears flowing again.

  Lirak held Mayrie as she cried for a long time. His anger was rekindled toward the invaders. Glancing down he saw the firestone. At that moment he made up his mind.

  “Mayrie” he said. “Mayrie, we need to get up.”

  Mayrie shook herself. She pulled her head back from his shoulder and took his shoulders in her hands. Slowly she pulled him toward her and she gently put her lips to his. Lirak felt the fullness of her lips softly pressing against his own. Her lips were soft and they pulled gently at his own. He pulled her body close and felt her softness against his chest and the wetness of her cheeks. Then she pulled back again, and her face was calm.

  “Thank you Lirak,” she said. Again she deliberately leaned forward and kissed him gently. “I’ll be okay,” she said, and she turned and walked away.

  Lirak stood quietly for a moment, he reached down and picked up the firestone, ignoring the effect of touching it, and placed it in the sack. Then he went to look for Jerok.

  “There you are,” Lirak said as he found Jerok and Gawn sitting beside the small stream that ran by the camp.

  “How did things go with Chutan?” Jerok asked.

  “Hard to say. He had to make a difficult decision,” Lirak replied.

  “Decision about what?” Gawn asked.

  “He seems to think my dream last night can come true. There is a secret to the firestones that he has decided to teach me,” Lirak said.

  “Hmm…. What was your dream then?” Jerok asked.

  “I dreamed of burning the floating huts on the river,” Lirak replied.

  Jerok and Gawn exchanged glances; neither responded to Lirak’s comment.

  Lirak sat down in the grass opposite Jerok.

  “Gawn, I need to speak with Jerok, do you mind?” Lirak said.

  “What about?” Jerok sounded instantly wary.

  “Gawn?” Lirak prodded.

  “OK, OK, I know when I’m not wanted,” Gawn laughed.

  “Wait, you don’t need to go,” Jerok said. “Lirak is no elder.”

  Gawn stood and stretched, then smiled down at Jerok. “Sometimes brothers need to speak to brothers in private.” And with that he turned and walked away.

  Jerok looked at Lirak and Lirak could feel his anger growing. “What do you want then?” he grumbled.

  Lirak took a moment to answer, idly reaching down and pulling some blades of grass before responding. “It’s about Mother,” he finally said.

  “What about her?” Jerok seemed genuinely curious. “Did you find something about her?”

  “No,” Lirak replied. “Jerok, I need to open that box.”

  Jerok’s face hardened. “No.”

  Lirak looked at Jerok, seeing the wall of opposition that he had found so many times over the years. “You don’t understand,” he began.

  “Shut up Lirak!” Jerok’s voice was bitter. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand. It’s always that way with you. You think you are so special.” Flecks of spittle formed at the corner of Jerok’s lips.

  “Jerok, this is too important to be about us,” Lirak tried.

  “It’s always about you!” Jerok said, standing up. “Always about you!”

  “No, that’s not true. This is about all of the Dwon, and I think it’s even…”

  “No. That’s final. Mother told me that you would try to get it, and that it would put us all in great danger.”

  “That was before all this happened, Jerok!” Lirak desperately tried to explain. “Don’t you see that this is the danger that Mother warned about. It’s happened already!”

  “You don’t know that,” Jerok replied, but there was a hint of doubt in his voice now.

  “I am as certain as I can be,” Lirak replied. “I see far in my dreams Jerok…”

  That seemed to be the final straw for Jerok. “You see far do you?” he asked bitterly. “Then use your dreams to find it.” With that, he turned and stalked away.

  Lirak stood silently for a while, lost in thought. Then he finally turned and headed back to the camp.

  Evening Meal

  Dalpene is the giver of life, where he treads, life flourishes, that which he shuns, life fades. Yet that which gives life can also steal it.

  – Dwon oral tradition

  Lirak and Patrik headed north a short ways to the river. Far down the river to the east they could see one of the floating huts, sitting motionless in the water where the river and the southern trail met. They could see movement, but the distance was too far to make out the activities of the men and beasts. He and Patri
k removed their shirts and leggings, leaving their loincloths on. As they cleaned up, Lirak studied the position of the floating hut and the activity on the shore. Finally he nodded his head in satisfaction.

  “Always plotting, aren’t you?” Patrik said, splashing Lirak with some of the cool river water. “Relax, they’re not going anywhere, and even if they do, there’s always another one coming.”

  Lirak was annoyed, and splashed Patrik back, which led to a sudden and intense water fight, which ended with them wrestling in the water like they had done many times before Lirak had set off on his quest. This time Thorn jumped into the water and swam around them as they wrestled. He seemed to enjoy the activity and both Patrik and Lirak playfully wrestled with Thorn as well.

  “You are a mess,” Patrik told Lirak as they finally waded back onto shore, and into the shade of the trees. Lirak could tell he wasn’t referring to his waterlogged condition.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Lirak said.

  “That’s part of the problem,” Patrik chuckled. “I need to get you loosened up. You’ve got to have some fun.”

  “That was fun,” Lirak actually grinned. “You’re getting stronger, I used to always win, but now you are as strong as I am.”

  “I’m going to get bigger, you know, I’m not done growing yet,” Patrik bragged. “But I’m just a big kid at heart,” he paused. “When are you going to tell her?”

  “Tell her what?” Lirak asked innocently.

  “Oh come on, Lirak, you can see that she has fallen for you, everyone can see it. When are you going to tell her you want her for your wife.”

  Lirak’s face fell back into its familiar stony demeanor. “I can’t do that,” he said.

  “Why not?” Patrik demanded.

  Lirak looked to the sky, watching the sun as it dropped down into the Gap, growing redder as it fell. “I can’t, it’s not the right time.”

  “If Mayrie looked at me like she looked at you, I’d be married in a flash!” Patrik said. “I don’t know what you think you are doing, but you aren’t doing her a favor. She needs you, and you need her. It’s as obvious as the sun at midday. Marry her Lirak. Do it now. You are both old enough, and it would be a great happy day for us all.”

  “It’s not that simple, Patrik,” Lirak said.

  “Mother earth!” Patrik swore. “You are unbelievable Lirak. You don’t see that it is best for everyone if you two get married. Even if you are killed the next day, it is what Mayrie would want.”

  Lirak looked down. “I want to Patrik. I would ask her today if I thought she would accept. She’s still too hurt. Chutan sees it. If I asked her now, it would be too hard for her. I have to wait until she’s ready,” he finally said.

  Patrik gave Lirak a long appraising look. “You know, I think maybe you’re right,” he finally said. “I forget sometimes what Mayrie suffered. I suppose you have talked with her more than I have.”

  “I have,” Lirak agreed.

  He put his moccasins back on and together the two headed back toward the camp.

  As they got close to the camp they could smell the cooking. Jerok and Gawn had killed a nice buck and they were roasting it on a spit above the fire. All of the known survivors of Luh-Yi gathered around the fire, talking and doing some minor chores. Mayrie was there; talking to Kalie, a girl Mayrie had known but had not played with, though she was close to Mayrie’s age. Kalie had the typical auburn hair and hazel eyes of the Dwon. Her eyes were haunted though, and Lirak wondered what she had suffered during the massacre. He hoped it was not as bad as Mayrie’s suffering. Mayrie talked and laughed with Kalie as they prepared wild herbs to eat with the deer.

  Jerok and Gawn were working on the deer pelt some distance away from the fire. There was always a need for more buckskin. The tip of the sun was just peeking through the Gap as the air was filled the mouth-watering aroma of cooking meat. Soon the villagers were standing around a makeshift table made of split logs and eating hot venison, forest herbs and cool spring water. Lirak almost felt at home. But the image of the floating huts on the Fedon River would not leave his mind.

  After they ate, Chutan came to the edge of the fire and held up his hands for quiet. The group quickly settled down and they all turned to listen to him.

  “Today we feast in honor of our returned brethren,” he began. “We will hear their story and be happy that they are safe.”

  He moved away and sat down on a rock nearby. Gawn moved to the fire.

  “Tonight you will hear the tale of the warriors who chased the invaders far to the south and fought them.” With those words Gawn’s rich baritone voice launched into a vivid and electrifying, if not wholly accurate, account of the band’s exploits and problems. Many had heard the story before, but all listened with rapt attention, oohing and aahing in several places. When he reached the point of Baxi’s death, tears fell. Finally he told of the reunion of the hunters with the surviving villagers.

  “But there is more,” he said. “This tale isn’t yet done.” He moved aside as Lirak stepped forward. Mayrie and Jerok looked at each other; he had told neither of them that he would speak to the villagers directly.

  “The tale isn’t done,” he began. “In fact it has not even begun. Gawn told you of the oath I have taken, along with Mayrie, Jerok and Patrik. That oath is binding, and I am bound to it. We are bound to it,” he paused. “Some have told me that the oath is a fool’s oath. They say that we can’t fight the invaders because we are weak, because we are frightened, and because we are too few.” His eyes swept across the faces. Mayrie’s eyes were wide and full of concern as she watched him. Her hand was holding Kalie’s hand tightly. Kalie’s eyes shifted from Lirak to Mayrie and back again.

  “I don’t believe this to be true. I believe that we can hurt the invaders and if we hurt them enough, we can drive them back to their own lands. Only then will my oath be fulfilled and the Dwon will be free. I ask two things. First I ask that you join us in our fight. Second, if you won’t join us in the fight, I ask that you help us find those who will.”

  A low murmur ran through the crowd.

  “I ask for you to spread the word to the other villages south of the river that were attacked as we were. Tell them that there are those of us here who will fight and kill those who have destroyed our lives and our families. Ask them to come here and join us so that we can be strong and plentiful.” He paused again, taking a deep breath. His body was silhouetted by the fire, his hair and face outlined in white as if it were on fire.

  “I ask that some of you go across the river to the north, where the invaders didn’t go, and spread the word of what happened to us, and to ask if any will join us so that we can destroy the invaders before they turn their attention to the north.”

  He gestured toward Chutan. “This I ask after seeking the wisdom of Chutan, the elder. He has decided to allow me to make this request, and has said that any who go with me will be honored as warriors and protectors of the Dwon.”

  He paused a longer time now, allowing the words to sink in to the villagers. He saw that Mayrie’s eyes shone with pride and passion as she looked at him. Patrik’s words came back to him and he smiled at her.

  “I would like to send out our messengers as soon as tomorrow. Soon we will strike a powerful blow against the invaders, the first of many such blows!” He paused again. “We don’t have much time, so think about this quickly, if you want to fight the invaders. We thank you for making us feel at home today. We thank Chutan for his wisdom.” With that he moved aside and sat down beside Patrik. Mayrie made her way through the villagers and sat on his other side.

  “That was moving,” she said. “I hope they listen.”

  Two backbreaking days of grinding stone and charcoal later, Lirak and Patrik poured the final bowl of charcoal powder into the open sack.

  “Finally!” Patrik said. “I don’t ever want to see a grinding stone again!”

  Lirak walked over to the sacks, and looked inside each one. There were
five large sacks one filled with gray, and two each filled with white and black powder. There were two smaller sacks, one with yellow powder and one with awkward tendrils of red inside.

  “Now what?” he asked Chutan.

  “Now we wait for the tree sap,” Chutan said. “But in the meantime, it is time to show you one of the secrets of the firestone.

  Chutan took one of the grinding bowls and took it to the five large sacks. He reached into three of the sacks and took a small amount of powder, carefully measuring so that he put twice as much white and black powder into the bowl as the gray powder. This he brought back to the grinding area. The bowl had perhaps enough powder to fill the cupped part of one hand. Sitting down he gestured for Patrik and Lirak to come closer.

  “This is very important,” he said. “The powders must be mixed together evenly.” He used a small wooden stick, carefully stirring the powders together. Soon he was satisfied that the powder was ready.

  “This is the sacred powder of our ceremonies,” he said. “This is what makes the blue flame.” He looked at Lirak. “We need a small torch.”

  Lirak went inside the cave where a small fire was kept burning and returned with a small stick that was burning on one end. When he returned he saw that Chutan had poured the pile of mixed powders, which was now a uniform gray color, on a flat stone placed in the grass. Chutan reached for the burning stick. “Don’t look directly at the powder” he said, “It will dazzle your eyes if you do.” Lirak and Patrik nodded.

  Chutan reached out as far as he could, shielding his eyes with one hand. The end of the torch came closer and closer to the pile of dust. Lirak tried not to look at the dust, but he could not help himself. Just before the flame looked like it would touch the powder, there was a sudden blinding flash of blue light, a loud continuous ‘whoosh!’ sound and Lirak’s eyes were so dazzled that he could not see. He heard Patrik shout in alarm. The ‘whoosh!” sound continued for several moments before fading into silence.