Flight of the Krilo

by Sam Ferguson

  After several hours, the dancing and juggling stopped. The music turned to play melancholy tunes, and the dwarves and Krilo began to excuse themselves from the hall. Raimund rose and bowed to Reu, offering his sincere thanks for the evening, and for everything the dwarves had done to protect the Krilo from the Tarthuns.

  Gauer spoiled the moment by ensuring Raimund knew that just because the Tarthuns were gone, it didn’t mean the Krilo no longer had to pay tribute.

  “That’s enough, Gauer,” Reu said sharply. “I think perhaps you have had a bit too much to drink.”

  Gauer pulled his mug to his lips and drained it entirely. “Or perhaps not enough,” he replied as he clapped his mug back down on the table.”

  The three of them watched Gauer leave the chamber, and then Reu turned to Raimund and tilted his head to the side and shrugged apologetically. “You must forgive him. The loss of his brother and father still burns hot in his heart.”

  Raimund nodded knowingly. “They were great warriors, and the Krilo shall always be in their debt, and indeed in the debt of all dwarves in your mountain.”

  Reu smiled softly. “I will retire now for the night,” he said as he turned and gestured toward the door at the far end of the chamber.

  Kamal and Raimund bowed once more and left, but not before Kamal dug into his pocket and pulled out a ring and set it on the table discreetly. Kamal counted the steps as they walked until he was sure they had travelled for one mile. Then, as the two were walking out through the tunnel that would open up into the southern part of the valley, Kamal stopped and made a show of patting his pockets.

  “What is it Kamal?” Raimund asked telepathically.

  “I was holding a ring for Weys, but it isn’t in my pocket anymore. I must have left it in the other chamber,” answered with his mind.

  “We can get it another time,” Raimund said.

  “No, it’s important. I promised Weys I would bring it back to him tonight.”

  “Why did you have it in the first place?” Raimund asked.

  “I asked him if I could borrow it, that’s all.”

  “It is not proper that a Krilo should covet that which his brother has,” Raimund said disapprovingly.

  Kamal bowed his head. “I know, Father. I didn’t think of it like that. I just wanted to borrow it for today, that’s all.”

  “Be quick. I will not wait. I will walk on, so catch up when you can.”

  Kamal nodded and then jogged back toward the main chamber where the feast had been. He smiled, happy that his plan had worked perfectly. One of the tenets that Krilo lived by was that lying was obscene. Kamal had long been planning on spying on Reu after a festival, but even with how closely he skirted around various parts of the Krilo faith, he could not tell a lie. What he could do was make up a reason. Weys had of course agreed to the plan, just so long as Kamal told him what happened to Lady Feryn’s food.

  If Raimund had known what Kamal was truly after, he likely would have had Kamal writing lines for the next week, but as Kamal saw it, he was after a piece of knowledge that even other dwarves weren’t aware of. Weren’t all disciples of Interis Aruhat supposed to seek all knowledge?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Halsten looked to his wife and smiled as he closed the door.

  “Is it done?” she asked.

  Halsten nodded. “I took Samek with me, and a few others. We found the goblin camp two miles to the south. It looks like they had come in from the east. Perhaps the growing desert pushed them into Feklyn Wood. Whatever the reason they appeared, we killed them all.”

  “I should have been with you,” Agatha said.

  Halsten shook his head. “I need you here, with Sarkis.”

  “I am as good a warrior as any other in the tribe,” Agatha said.

  Halsten knew she was right. She had fought in her share of battles as well. It was not the way of the Varvarr to exclude the women from fighting. Far from it. Females were encouraged to fight alongside the men. They made some of the fiercest warriors. Agatha was different, however. Halsten couldn’t bear the thought of her getting hurt or slain on the field of battle. To say such a thing would dishonor her, so he always had the same excuse ready to use, though he suspected she knew the truth of the matter well enough.

  “We must keep some of our best warriors in the village at all times, lest our best are all lured outside for a fight, only to have a second force attack the village directly.” He moved into the house and looked at Sarkis, who was asleep on his bed. It was late, nearly morning in fact. There was probably only an hour or two of darkness left before the dawn. Halsten looked at his hands; they were still caked with dried blood. He went to the back of the home where Agatha had a large wooden tub of water waiting for him.

  “How many were there?” she asked as she moved in and unfastened Halsten’s belt.

  “There were fifty-five male goblins, and another thirty females,” Halsten replied.

  “The males outnumbered the females?” she continued as she removed his belt and his weapons. Next she grabbed the bottom of his tunic and pulled it up and over his head and arms.

  “The numbers included their young,” Halsten said callously.

  Agatha nodded and then untied the front of Halsten’s trousers. The blood-stained clothes she placed in a small wooden bucket. “I’ll have these washed in the morning,” she said. Halsten’s beautiful wife then pointed to the tub of water. “It’s cold by now, but you can’t come to bed covered in blood.”

  Halsten nodded and removed his under clothing and then got into the tub. The water was cold, but not unbearable. He sank down into the tub up to his waist. He began washing his hands and arms, but Agatha came to him and wet a large rag.

  “Let me,” she said. She first cleaned his face, and then moved on to his right arm. “No new wounds?” she asked.

  Halsten shook his head. “The goblins didn’t expect us. They didn’t even have any guards posted. We killed them easily.”

  “Any survivors?” Agatha said.

  Halsten shook his head. “As we did here, we killed them all and set their corpses upon pikes. We fired their tents and everything else in their meager camp.”

  “Vengeance was swift then,” Agatha said. “Then your father has been honored. You should be proud.”

  “They are to name me chief tomorrow,” Halsten said, ignoring the compliment. “I always thought my father would live forever.”

  “The dirt takes us all in the end,” Agatha said softly. “But take comfort that your father is joining Akuhn on the Great Hunt. His spirit will soar…”

  Halsten grabbed her hands and looked into her eyes. Had it not been dishonorable, he would have allowed tears to well up and fall down his cheeks. As it was, it remained difficult to fight the lump threatening to form in his throat. “My father dishonored himself,” Halsten said in a dreadful whisper. His eyes glanced over to his sleeping son before he continued. “My father was never supposed to leave the Sacred Valley.”

  “What do you mean?” Agatha asked.

  “He told me, before the attack, that our tribe has a responsibility, a sacred duty, to protect and look after the Temple of Akuhn in the Sacred Valley. He forsook his sacred calling and moved the tribe to Feklyn Wood. He turned his back on Akuhn.”

  Agatha knitted her brow and cocked her head to the side. “Surely he had his reasons,” she said soothingly. “You’re upset, that’s all.”

  Halsten shook his head. “No, there is more.” He then told her the dream he had seen and the dreams his father spoke of, leaving out no detail as she took the last bits of dried goblin blood from his skin.

  He then rose from the tub and Agatha fetched a towel for him. “What will you do?” Agatha asked.

  “There is only one thing I can do,” Halsten replied. “I will consult with the spirits tomorrow, when they name me chief. I will ask them for forgiveness, and then I will swear loyalty to Akuhn, and win back her favor for our people.”

  “Our people?” Ag
atha asked. “We are not out of favor, Halsten. Look around, we are blessed with a child. We have a good home.”

  “But the animals are fleeing, and dwindling in number,” Halsten replied. “The desert grows and consumes the grassland in the east. The forest is teeming with orcs, and now goblins as well!”

  “But you slew the goblins,” Agatha pointed out.

  “There will be more, eventually. If the desert continues to grow, they will come here looking for food.” Halsten shook his head and finished toweling himself off. “No, we have to go back. We must make amends to Akuhn for the sins of my father. Something is wrong with the temple, I can feel it.”

  Agatha nodded. She stepped in close and draped her arms around her husband’s naked shoulders. “If the new chief thinks it best for his people, I will not argue,” she promised. “If you think it is best, even just for the sake of your father’s memory, I will go with you.” She went up onto her toes and gave Halsten a soft, short kiss. “Come, lie down with me until the dawn. For now, let me take care of you, and tomorrow you can take care of the others.”

  She slid her hands down his arms and then led him toward the bed by the hand. The two of them then slipped into the blankets and Agatha cradled his head on her chest, rubbing the top of his head until he fell into a deep sleep.

  The morning came only a couple of hours later, and along with the light there was a knocking at the door.

  Halsten groaned as he rolled to the edge of his bed and let his feet slip to the floor. Sarkis stirred on his bed, but didn’t wake. Halsten rose up and gathered clean clothes and dressed himself before he answered the door. When he opened it, the village elders stood there waiting for him.

  As their titles implied, the three men and women before Halsten were extremely old. Their skin was wrinkled and heavily tanned from the years of sunlight that had blessed them with long life and the wisdom of the spirits. The oldest among them was a woman named Deggeira. She was nearly seventy-three years old. The youngest was a man named Jaffrin. He had just reached his sixty-seventh year only a month before. These were the six oldest Varvarr in the clan. They would be the ones who would appoint Halsten their new chief.

  Halsten followed the elders to his father’s house. The pace was painfully slow. Deggeira was surprisingly spry, but two of the elders were stooped over and relied heavily upon canes in order to walk. Their feet shuffled noisily across the dirt, barely moving a few inches with each step. Some of the villagers had come out with the dawn to see Halsten walk with the elders, but most began their daily chores after watching the slow procession for only a few seconds. None of them would be allowed to watch the ceremony in any case, and so they had seen all they would be able to see until after Halsten was named the new chief. When they finally arrived at Jarle’s house, Halsten was all too eager to open the door and help the elders inside.

  The door was closed after they were all inside, and a bolt was thrown to lock the door shut from the outside. Deggeira pulled a long pipe from the folds of her brown dress and handed it to Isolde, another female elder. She then moved to Halsten.

  “Sit upon the ground, near the fire pit,” she said in a gravelly voice.

  Halsten did as he was told and watched as all of the elders sat in a circle with him around the pit. Henrir, one of the younger male elders, took a small box out from his robes and worked with the others to place something into the long smoking pipe. Jaffrin produced a small wooden box from his robes as well, and smiled at Halsten.

  “Do you seek to fill your father’s place as chief?” Deggeira asked Halsten as she moved to stand behind him. Her bony hands fell upon his shoulders and squeezed gently.

  Halsten nodded. “I do.”

  Jaffrin smiled wider, revealing his missing two front teeth which had been knocked out in a fight with his wife, according to rumors. He opened the wooden box and Halsten looked inside to see a fat, warty toad. It was as brown as mud, and smelled of rot and decay. Its sides inflated and deflated with each breath, but it made absolutely no sounds.

  “What do I do with that?” Halsten asked.

  “You will lick the back of the toad,” Deggeira replied. “This you shall do in a display of your willingness to bear the burdens that must be placed upon you. As the toad is foul and bitter, so too can be the duties of a chief. Now, lick it.”

  Jaffrin pulled the toad from the box and held it up for Halsten.

  Halsten had never been squeamish, but this task had him hesitating for just a moment. The many bumps on the toad’s back appeared different now that the animal was held so close to his face. It wasn’t just brown as he had thought before. There were specks of green, black, brown, and red along its back. He bent his head toward the toad and gave one long lick across the animal’s spine. His tongue burned almost immediately upon touching the slimy toad. The burning grew to a tingle that expanded across Halsten’s entire mouth. Then, as his tongue made its way over the last of the toad’s rough skin, he put his tongue back in his mouth and did his best to present a stoic face. The tingling spread down into his throat, and then his stomach lurched. He felt his abdomen cramp and roil against him, but Halsten would not let himself retch in front of the elders. He would not dishonor himself, nor his father’s memory by such a display.

  “The aspiring chief is able to swallow without vomiting, that is interesting,” Deggeira noted. “Only three chiefs have ever been known to withstand this part so well.”

  Deggeira then spoke to the other elders, but something strange started happening. Halsten couldn’t understand the words. Instead, the sounds became like colors in the air. Blues and greens danced in the air in front of Halsten as Deggeira spoke. When Jaffrin added his words, flashes of red and purple shot through the room.

  Halsten watched the scene curiously, unable to understand what was happening to him. The other elders began to speak as well, and more colors were added into the mix. Within seconds, the room was filled with all of the colors Halsten had ever seen. He reached out and poked one of the streaks of yellow and it broke into pieces as small as dust and began to dance around his hand. Halsten smiled as he watched.

  Then, without warning, a great black wolf broke through the colors and snarled at him.

  Halsten jumped to his feet and pointed at the wolf. “You! Do you come from the Wolf Goddess? Has she sent you?” Halsten looked around himself at the elders, but they only stared at him with faces that seemed to wave and ripple as if made of water. None of them were speaking now.

  The large wolf grew in size and circled around Halsten.

  The Varvarr prince spun around in place, locking his eyes with those of the wolf. “If you have come from Akuhn, tell her that I will honor her ways. I will see her temple restored. Her name shall be honored once more among our people.”

  The wolf snarled and then lunged toward Halsten, its fangs bearing down on his neck. The teeth sank in and he felt a burning pain in his neck. Halsten’s strength left him and he sank to his knees. He then tumbled forward and landed on his face on the ground, and all went black.

  It was some time before he woke once more. The elders were still seated around the fire pit where they had been before, all except for Deggeira, that is. She was siting directly in front of Halsten’s face.

  “You saw a wolf?” she asked.

  Halsten reached a hand to his neck. His eyes shot wide as he recalled what had happened, but his fingers found no wounds. “It was the largest wolf I have ever seen,” Halsten replied. “It lunged for me, it attacked.”

  “You did not defend yourself, why is that?” Deggeira asked.

  Halsten shook his head. “I’m not sure. Maybe, because if it was Akuhn’s messenger, and it attacked me, then perhaps Akuhn had decreed it to be so.”

  “Interesting,” Deggeira said in her gravelly voice. “You would bow to the Goddess’ will even if she decreed your death?”

  Halsten nodded. “To restore her blessing to our people, I would.”

  Deggeira narrowed her beady br
own eyes at him. “What do you mean, restore her blessing?”

  Halsten then rose to his knees and told the elders of his dream. He then told them of his father’s dreams as well. As he spoke, he could see their faces changing from somber interest to expressions of sadness.

  “I had suspected we had lost Akuhn’s favor,” Deggeira said after Halsten had told all. “But the elders are only in power when there is no chief. Once a chief has been named, the elders are only to be used in council. We do not make choices or offer unsolicited advice.”

  “So you knew nothing of my father’s dreams?” Halsten asked.

  Deggeira shook her head. “I suspected we had incurred Akuhn’s wrath, but no, I did not know of your father’s dreams.” She took in a breath and pointed to Halsten. “Will you right the wrongs? Will you truly restore her blessing to our people?”

  Halsten nodded. “With all the fiber of my soul, I wish to do exactly that.”

  Deggeira smiled. “Then we shall name you the next chief. Come, there is one last part of the ceremony to complete.”

  “What shall I do now?” Halsten asked.

  Deggeira pointed to the long pipe. “The smoking pipe has been filled with wolf’s blood, a kind of vine that grew near the temple. When our people left the sacred valley, we harvested it and brought plantings with us so we could continue to call upon its powers in times of need. At the end of each moon cycle, we can harvest the roots, and use them to enhance our wisdom and help us contact the ancestor spirits. First, they will look upon your soul and decide whether you have their blessing, for it is not enough to have our blessing as chief. You must convince all the elders who have passed on before us, for they are wise, and see all. If you are found worthy, then they will guide us, and give you the counsel necessary to know how we must make amends before the Great Goddess.” Deggeira looked to the other elders and nodded.