Revelations of Doom

by Jedidiah Behe

  Eliath sat with Tarriel at her request. She looked into his eyes for a time before she finally spoke softly. "You told me before that Lucian was your brother, but he is not. I have seen your bond and it is more than that of mere blood. I can see that you care for him deeply. Why do you feel the need to protect him so?"

  "We are not brothers by blood. His parents adopted me into the family when he was still very young. I have been with him ever since."

  "So because of what his parents did for you, you feel obligated to protect him?"

  Eliath looked into her eyes, showing her how serious he was. "My sole purpose on this world is to protect Lucian. He is destined to rule."

  Tarriel arched an eyebrow, "Lucian, a leader?" She suppressed a laugh. "He will someday make a fine husband to a beautiful wife, but a leader?" She chortled quietly.

  Eliath kept his gaze locked on her eyes. "Yes, a great leader."

  That gaze melted away Tarriel's cynicism. She knew that Eliath believed in what he said whole-heartedly. There was something about Lucian indeed, but a leader? She couldn't imagine that.

  The two sat in silence on an old fallen tree. Tarriel was about to ask Eliath some more questions when she heard the soft crunch of waterlogged twigs. Instantly, she pulled on the string to alert the others. Eliath had heard the noise as well and moved to a crouch behind the tree with Tarriel. He strained his eyes, trying to find the cause of the noise among the dark forest. He slowed his breathing so he could hear the sounds of the woods over his heartbeat. There was nothing, complete silence. No bugs chirping, nor frogs calling out. The forest had gone dead. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in warning of unseen danger. And then the crunch came again, except this time it was behind him, in between their position and the camp.

  Tarriel spun, drawing her sword, the ring of steel echoed throughout the forest. Eliath heard more steel ringing out but he didn't know if it was from the other scouts, or from the hidden enemy. He drew his own sword, a long claymore he had taken from the armory back in Culdora. Tarriel stood with wide eyes darting all over the woods, looking at every shadow, every tree limb that swayed with the wind snagged her deadly gaze. Eliath was about to run back toward the camp, toward Lucian, when he heard a strange noise. It sounded like something whipping through the air causing a hum. He heard Tarriel grunt, and turned to watch as her body fell limp to the forest floor. Before he could figure out what had happened to her, he heard a whiff of air. His vision went white as pain flared through his head. That same instant, everything around went black, and he hit the fallen tree trunk with a thud.

  Lucian's eyes snapped open at the sound of small twigs snapping under foot. He saw the scouts jumping up from their bedrolls looking to the locations where Tarriel and Somlin had stationed themselves. Icy prickles ran up his spine and all over his body. He clutched the hilt of his bastard sword and tried to concentrate on hearing sounds of an advance. The ring of steel being drawn echoed throughout the woods. It came from Tarriel's position. Lucian and the other Culdorans drew their swords. He heard someone coming, charging through the woods toward them, and spun toward the commotion. Somlin burst through the trees, her sword was drawn also and she had a look of determined rage in her eye. Just as she came into the edge of the camp, something must have struck her head. She spun sideways and Lucian saw her eyes roll back as she tumbled to a grinding halt in a patch of brush. Sadril started yelling out orders and the warriors formed a circle back to back in the middle of the campsite. Their speed at doing so impressed Lucian. He moved to join them when the blow to the back of his head sent him careening forward, face first into the mud next to the fire, and then there was only darkness.

  †††

  Lucian woke feeling like he had been kicked by a mule and having no idea how much time had passed. He couldn’t help but moan in frustration. He was growing tired of being knocked unconscious and wondered how much more abuse his skull could take. He tried to bring his hand up to feel the back of his head but realized he was bound and couldn’t move. When the support at his back shifted, he also realized that he must be leaning against someone, bound together at the wrists. Judging from the size of the body behind him, he guessed it was Eliath.

  He tried to open his eyes, and focus his vision, but it felt like someone had put hot coals under his lids. Slowly, little by little, he was able to open them. He looked around and saw the rest of the Culdoran escort. They all seemed to be alive, similarly bound to each other like he was to Eliath. That much gave him hope.

  They were surrounded by hundreds of people that seemed like devilish spirits because of the firelight that cast them in an orange-reddish glow, and made their shadows dance and hop all around. There were men and women, even children. The men closest to them were covered in greenish and brown paint, looking to be some type of mud or clay. They all held spears that were leveled at Lucian and the others. They had different types of foliage sticking out of bands around their head, arms, legs and waist. Lucian realized that these men could probably have been right under foot in the forest and they wouldn’t have been seen. It was amazing how camouflaged they had made themselves.

  The women wore a simple leather loincloth that hung down to their knees, nothing more. The only difference in the dress of the women from the men was the jewelry. The women wore many necklaces, made of leather thongs that held different colored stone, metals, and what looked like carved bone. None of the people wore any type of sandal or footwear. Lucian couldn't imagine never wearing anything to protect his feet, but they seemed not to be bothered by it.

  Without the mud covering the regular villagers, he saw that they had dark, coppery tone skin. Most were thin to the point of looking emaciated, but they seemed to have a strong hardened presence about them. Their eyes told him that they did not like the sight of visitors in their home. He was happy to see that none of them however, were looking at him and licking their lips or rubbing their bellies. He was not at all keen to the idea of being eaten.

  He saw a long leather strap hanging from several of the warrior’s belts and a pouch next to it. Now he knew what had caused the pulsing pain in the back of his skull and the headache he now had. They were slingshots, an archaic weapon, but with practice, they could be deadly accurate. He had heard of some cultures that still preferred using them to hunt with, over a bow and arrow. He was glad for that. They must have used a larger rigid stone, meant to incapacitate them rather than kill them. A smaller round stone can be hurled at much greater speed and with its smooth edge it catches less friction through the air. Such a stone could sink deep into a man's skull.

  He heard talking and craned his neck to see that one of the warriors, who appeared to be someone of high standing because of his headdress, was talking to Tarriel. It must have been in the Averese tongue because he didn't recognize it as Culdoran.

  "I wish I knew what they were saying." He said out loud, but to himself.

  "They are talking about how we will be killed. Tarriel is trying to tell them that we were traveling to Ganth, but the Headman is calling her a liar. He is saying that we are all dogs of evil, come to destroy his people."

  Lucian sat, staring at his friend. It took him a minute to finally speak. "You understand Averese?"

  "Yes, it is very similar to Culdoran and was easy to learn."

  Lucian didn't know what to think. He thought he knew everything about Eliath, whom he had spent most of his life with. And yet, this past week he had been continually surprised by the man. He didn’t think that the language they were speaking sounded anything like Culdoran, but he just shook his head and decided that knowing the conversation was most important.

  "Why do they think we wish them harm?" asked Lucian in a whisper.

  "He said three days ago, men from another land, dressed in black, came into their village, killing their Chieftain, and his family, and many of the warriors that tried to stop them. There had been five assassins that came into their town, all were killed but two."

  P
anic swept over Lucian as he realized the implications. "They think you and I are the assassins?"

  "In a way, yes. They believe that Sanjeera is responsible for the attack, and they think that we are from Sanjeera. At first they thought the Culdorans, who they have never made war with, were bringing us to them. So they shadowed us. But when they realized we meant to pass by their lands, they decided that the Culdorans were protecting us, and must be involved with the slaughter of their Chieftain and his family."

  "Is she telling them the truth?" asked Lucian, his tone incredulous.

  "Of course, but they are not interested in what she has to say because she broke the nose of one of her guards by smashing her forehead into his face when she awoke,” answered Eliath, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half smile.

  Lucian didn’t notice the smile and he was a bit unnerved as to how Eliath was remaining so calm. "What do they plan on doing to us?"

  "They plan on slitting our throats over a bowl so that they may drink our blood in a ceremony of vengeance. Then they will eat a small part of us to steal our strength and burn the rest to appease their gods."

  "What?” Lucian tried not to panic. “Eliath, speak for me. I must talk with them. They must hear the truth." He shouted out to the Headman, getting his attention.

  The man walked over to Lucian and looked down at him, as if he were a dog that just did something unforgivable.

  He spoke up, hoping they would give him the chance and not stifle him with a spear shaft to the side of the head. "Please, on my father’s grave, we did not murder your people."

  The Headman looked surprised at Eliath when he translated. He looked back to Lucian with a questioning frown. "Then why are you here?"

  Lucian answered after Eliath translated the Headman’s question. "This is my brother Eliath, I am Lucian, and we come from Yavasura. Our parents were murdered, also by a man clothed in black. He was a Ganthian, and we travel there now to discover his identity."

  The Headman listened to the translation and studied Lucian's face for a time. He turned and yelled out to one of the warriors and the man ran off, deeper into the village. When he returned, an old man was holding on to his arm, following him. The old man also wore a splendid headdress. It was covered in feathers the likes of which Lucian had never seen. He had designs painted in dyed clay all over his body. If Lucian didn't already know that their Chieftain had been killed, he would have thought that this was the man.

  The old man let go of the warriors arm when he was right in front of Lucian. He teetered on weak legs, looking up and down the length of him. "He has the mark of power."

  Lucian didn't know what the old man said, but it brought gasps from the villagers. He thought maybe this was a bad thing. Many of the warriors seemed to be gripping their spears tighter and he could see their knuckles whitening.

  Eliath whispered to Lucian. "This is their Shaman. He is a Seer."

  The Headman spoke to the Seer, telling him of what Lucian had said before his arrival. The old man looked over Lucian again and knelt down, putting his hands on both sides of Lucian's face. His hands smelled of berries and maple. Lucian breathed in reflexively to gather in the sweet scent.

  The Shaman’s eyes widened. "This man is not from Yavasura."

  Lucian didn't need Eliath to translate to realize the Shaman had said something bad. The warriors around them brought their spears up again and strained their muscles like a coiled snake, ready to strike. But the Shaman put his hands up and patted the air, bidding them all to lower their weapons.

  "He is from a powerful nation, one of the last descendants of a great tribe of Kings, the Drahvanael."

  Lucian thought that maybe Eliath had translated wrong. He looked to his friend in confusion. Eliath looked back at him, his grey eyes held that knowing look that Lucian had seen many times before. He had translated it right. The Shaman went on further.

  "He did not come to our village and murder our Chieftain. He speaks the truth about his parents, and his journey. No harm must come to this man.

  Before Lucian could interject, the Seer spoke to the Headman, who in turn signaled the guards standing behind Lucian. The two men cut his bonds and helped him stand, then led him to a small hut where he and Eliath were instructed to sit down at the little stone table inside. Shortly afterwards, the Seer entered the hut by himself and the thick flap over the entrance was closed, leaving them alone with the old Shaman. He looked to Eliath to translate

  "My name is Harnadook. Some food and honey flavored water is being brought in. I am sorry for any injuries you may have sustained."

  Lucian waved away the old man’s concern. "I am just happy that your men did not kill us. But I don’t understand why you say that I am not Yavasuran."

  "You came here from Yavasura, but that is not your ancestry."

  Lucian just looked at him with a puzzled expression. He wanted the old man to keep talking. He didn't want to volunteer any more information than was necessary.

  "Your father did not know it, but he was a descendant from the line of Kings that once ruled almost the entirety of Los. The old Kingdom was called Drahvanael back then, and it reigned over nearly the entire continent. Their borders stretched from sea to sea, from the desert of the north all the way to the most southern tip.”

  “The Drahvanael ruled for centuries, until a man from within the royal family turned against his kin. He started a revolution that tore Drahvanael apart with civil war that lasted almost a hundred years. When it was over, the original descendants of Drahvanael were nearly wiped out and became scattered throughout the lands. The people divided into small tribes and spread apart. Soon others came to Los from far away, and intermixed with the people here. As time moved on, the seed of Drahvanael passed into dust. When your father was killed, you and your brother became the last of the descendants of Drahvanael."

  Lucian didn't know whether to believe this man, or think him crazy. "I just find it all so hard to believe. How did my father not know about any of this, and how is it that you know?"

  "When the civil war was over, the line of Drahvanael was blamed for it. Even though the man who started it was solely to blame, the entire bloodline was cast into shadow. Those who were left of the line of Drahvanael kept quiet about their lineage, so as not to face persecution. Fathers would not pass their history down to their sons. As time went on...Drahvanael passed out of the memories of most. My people came here before the civil war and were dragooned into it without choice. Many of my ancestors died fighting for something they did not understand. When the war ended, only a small number of my people were left. They fled together and moved furthest south of the capital city, which is now Vorea, and settled here in this swamp, an unwanted land, so that we would be left alone. We kept records of the war and of the tale on its beginning. We always keep records of our history, so we never forget who we are."

  Lucian could not find his voice.

  "You, young man, are a direct descendant of the great King Drahvanael. I do not know this because I have seen it written in scroll. He died long before we came to this continent. I know this because I have seen it in a vision."

  Lucian's thoughts halted. He didn't put much stock in visions. This old man had no proof of his claim, and even if he did..."What good is it to be a descendant from a line of people that thought it best to forget their past, their heritage?"

  Harnadook smiled a warm smile. "You will doubt your lineage until the Great Father himself shows you who you really are."

  Lucian rocked back on his heels. "The Great Father, what do you know of the Great Father? You kill people and eat them, then burn them to honor your gods. This is not the practice of one who believes in the Great Father that I know."

  Harnadook chuckled and lifted up his hands in the air. "Well it seems as if you have discovered our secret."

  Lucian was perplexed.

  Harnadook leaned closer and motioned for Lucian and Eliath to do the same. "What better way to keep the outside world away f
rom your village, than to make them believe that you are vicious cannibals who would eat them, or burn them alive as a sacrifice?" He chuckled again, patting Lucian on the shoulder.

  "You mean to tell us that you’re not cannibals, that it is all a ruse?" asked Lucian, struggling to keep his voice at a whisper.

  Eliath had started laughing so hard that he couldn’t finish the translation. He found the entire idea quite amusing.

  Lucian was flabbergasted. His entire life, he had heard stories of people going too close to Averule and getting eaten. Although he had always wondered how the stories got back to the villages if no one ever survived. He couldn't help but chuckle himself. The more he thought about it, the more humorous it was. All three men sat and laughed for a moment. Lucian thought it was the most he had done so since he was very young. It felt good to release.

  Once the three men gained control of themselves, Harnadook gave Lucian and Eliath a serious look, and told them that they mustn’t tell anyone of their secret, not even the Culdorans. Both men swore on their lives that the secret would never escape their lips and they were very serious, even if they couldn’t contain their smiles.

  Harnadook seemed pleased and said nothing else about it. Just then the food arrived and they all ate. It was a wonderful assortment. From fish, to roast pork, and even liver from a Fen, Eliath's favorite. The honey water was the best thing Lucian had ever tasted. It was all so fresh that they must have just prepared it all recently. Suddenly, Lucian realized that this was a meal that needed time to prepare. These people could not eat like this every day.