Of Wind and Waves - Chronicles of the First Age, Book One

by Nathan Quiring

  The sight was strange. Snarl was standing, slightly crouched with both blades out, in a relatively clear opening. Around him were twelve dark clad figures, circling the lone man, all with their own blades. These weapons were far longer and thinner, shining more brightly in the red-orange sunlight. When she looked more closely, she saw blood dripping from both of Snarl’s blades and from more than a few of his attacker’s as well as three more dark clad lumps, some writhing and groaning.

  “Who’s next?” The grey haired man shouted, snarling fiercely and spinning to keep them all at bay.

  When he moved again she saw that he was limping slightly and his right arm was covered in red. She could feel the tension building and just when she was sure it would break, Golden appeared through two of the buildings off to the right of the square. It seemed the rest of them had seen him as soon as she had, and decided to take the chance with the one they had surrounded before his companion joined in.

  It was a blur of action, light glinting off of metal and blood flying. Snarl took two more down before a foot of bright red metal broke through his chest and he fell in an unmoving heap, much as Sparrow had. Time slowed as the men turned.

  Then Golden screamed. It was no human scream. It wasn’t even an animal scream. It was like the wind itself ripped from his lunges and tore a gaping rent in the world. Then he moved faster than she could even see. He moved like the wind.

  Leif

  All the logic, all the truth that told him of the monster that was his father vanished from his mind in that instant. The years of living with no one else had created a connection deeper than logic, deeper than emotion. His father had loved him, in his own way. He had taught Leif what the world was, in his eyes. He had raised him the best he could. He had taught him how to survive. He was dead.

  All sense, emotion, thought, everything, fled his mind. The cool trance of the Kata descended on him and he was the wind. And he flew.

  Ria

  The gold stream shot like a flame at the group of men. She watched, frozen in awe, as he moved through them. His arms and legs flowed with such speed and grace that she wasn’t sure if he was even solid anymore. The men’s blades rose to block and cut but hit nothing, his hands passed through them, then connected with terrible force. In seconds they were all on the ground, unmoving. Golden stood still for a moment, wavering, flickering, shifting in the wind, then solidified and crumpled with the rest.

  Three

  The old man was a useful tool, almost too useful for comfort. It was good Gerard understood him so well, understood his weakness. Just so long as he didn’t break free of it like those others. The others... They had been so very helpful, until he had gone too far. But he knew better this time, he had learned, give them ignorance and they would accept it willingly, without a second thought; these intellectuals were all the same.

  His thoughts skipped over a dark patch as he traversed the honeycomb passages within the mountain and something emerged from the darkness; a distant memory, fuzzy and disjointed. He remembered so little from those first days, so he grasped at it.

  A padded room, clean, white walls; anger, fear, hopelessness, the place and the feelings were one. Then an explosion, many, many explosions, and pain. Gerard stopped and braced himself against the flat, featureless wall as his head throbbed with the effort. The scene jumped to a larger room, broken and full of bodies in long, white coats, spattered with blood. The pain was different, no longer sharp, individual gashes of heat, but instead an all encompassing agony, his insides were boiling, melting. One twisting form in a blood drenched coat screamed as his skin bubbled and popped, then his throat collapsed under an unseen force and he continued in silence.

  Blackness touched the edges of Gerard’s vision and the images faded, leaving him with nothing, only more questions.

  Alec

  He had become a shadow, Gerard’s shadow. Those who before hadn’t spoken to him because they thought him utterly insignificant now avoided his attention for the exact opposite reason. Whispers surrounded him as power did Gerard. Conversations were silenced with his arrival and groups disintegrated. He was still an island in this place. That was fine with him.

  Gerard began training him right away and rarely let him out of sight. Soon he knew the fortress better than anywhere else he had ever been, and the surrounding landscape was almost as familiar, if vicariously so. In the rooms behind the massive hall that had become his home were many things, including a map room. The idea had been completely novel to him, but he quickly understood its use. It depicted everywhere Gerard had explored, marking where villages had once stood; the first to fall prey to Gerard’s army. It was impressive, and revolting.

  Another source of disgust came when he asked Gerard what had happened to all the young women that arrived with him. He had tried to find out by himself but had been unsuccessful.

  “Women are of little use.” Gerard stated almost off-handedly. “They are weak both in mind and body, they are too emotional to survive on their own. When we find women suitable for bearing children, we take them and give them the opportunity to be useful. Truly, we save them from themselves, mon fils.

  I waited for you to ask instead of telling you; to be sure you were interested. The women stay in the large building near the north wall, by the gardens. Do not spend too much time there, you must not wear yourself out, compris?”

  He found the building and stepped in once, long enough to see that the girl was there and leave. He could do nothing for her now. He did want her, very much, but not in that way. The place was dark, both physically and emotionally; he could almost feel the depression like a cloud. He wanted her, but he wanted her as a person, and only if she wanted him. Gerard was a fool.

  The more he learned, the surer he became of his purpose, but the less sure of his ability. It was like Gerard could sense his presence, even his thoughts, occasionally. The man was unbelievable. Alec was sure now that he was far older than he looked, perhaps even fifty, it was as if the man simply ignored the effects of age as he did the normal constraints of human physique.

  Alec learned much in the weeks that followed that rooftop encounter; he learned that the hall was constructed around the remains of a military base, stocked with equipment for the apocalypse; swords, food rations, detailed maps of the surrounding landscape, etc. It was how Gerard had achieved so much so quickly, he said. The food ran out early on and the maps were outdated, but it had done much to jumpstart his campaign. The swords were magnificent; thin, arm length, razor sharp, and menacing. He had received one the first day in his new position, along with the knives he had lost, and occasionally fenced around with the other men, though none of them really had a clue what they were doing, and they were often too cautious of the master’s new favorite to do anything serious.

  The caravan he had arrived in had been restocking for another journey since that first day. When he asked about it, Gerard mentioned that it was the only one but there were other scouting bands preparing for the next journey and, when they all returned, the caravan would depart towards the newfound conquests. Perhaps he could stop the madness before that day came.

  Gerard allowed him little time to himself; sleeping, eating, and some ‘R and R’ as he called it. During this time he tried, covertly, to find the boys. All of the younger boys and girls had been set to cleaning and tending the gardens under the watch of some old women who looked to have been there longer than most. There were so many places to look and all the children had the same dirty, downtrodden appearance so that it was hard to distinguish between them, even between genders.

  One day, while he was using his mealtime to continue his elicit search, Alec found a new wing behind the great hall. It was such a vast labyrinth of corridors that he often wasn’t sure if he had discovered a new area or simply retraced his steps, but this time was different. This particular find was hidden behind a nasty grey sheet that blended with the metal wall so well that he would never have found it in the dim light if he had not
followed a child carrying food. The boy, or perhaps girl, pulled back the hanging with some effort and sidled through, returning shortly with empty hands. Alec waited for him to leave, and then slid noiselessly through, not sure what he would find. A long, narrow corridor led down into darkness, shadowy doorways all along either side, except one. He went to the brightly flickering outline and listened; nothing. He gently pushed it open. Sitting at a shabby wooden table was the old man.

  Leif

  Life was pain. Body and mind agonized beyond belief, clear and exact in their torture. The waking dream that held him still was empty, but for the pain, the pain and the wind. All around him it thrashed; tearing, twisting, cascading. It sung, harmonizing with the torment. Some infinitesimal splinter of his consciousness strained. He was pain, but for that splinter. Slowly, agonizingly, glacially, it grew, expanding and reaching, reaching for the calm. But there was no calm, there was only storm; the cataclysm of pain. Inexplicably, unimaginable, it grasped a faint shadow of control. That familiar place, more familiar than his own body, the calm that was him gradually pushed back the misery. He forced himself to calm, to let it take him, do its worst, and pass. And, bit by bit, it passed, as all things did.

  He woke to the blotchy dull light of a quickly dying day and the smell of dry grass. Above him a brittle grey tree swayed in the steady wind so common to the rolling plains. Draped from it were billowing black robes, seemingly intended to shield him from the once bright light of the afternoon.

  Memory rushed back and with it confusion. His father was dead, so how had he come to be here? Who had hung robes? His last memory was of a strange fight, so fast it defied comprehension, then collapsing a few feet from Cal’s body.

  He sat up and was surprised to find his head completely clear, not a glimmer of the pain he remembered so sharply. He glanced around, too fast to actually grasp anything important, then focused on something; his pack was lying feet from him, leaning up against the tree trunk. Off to the left and a good hundred strides away loomed the shell wall, he was on a hill looking down to where the great rift in the metal met the ground. He swung his head around to his right and jumped nearly to his feet.

  “Better?” A soft, girlish voice asked.

  “Wha-?” He began, trying to regain composure but confounded by what stood before him.

  “Are better?” She said again, then looked down, frustration writ clear across her sharp, angular features. A narrow jaw and small nose framed slender, pursed lips.

  “Are… You better?” She asked, obviously proud of herself for finding the right word.

  When she looked back up she smiled and her pale red lips perfectly matched her porcelain skin, but what transfixed Leif’s attention were her light, almost white green eyes. He had seen those eyes before. The wolf in the night had stared at him, frightened and anxious, with those eyes.

  “W-who are you?” He stuttered, still held captive by those eyes.

  “Ria!” She said, standing straight and slamming a thumb into her chest.

  She spoke like a little girl, but she had to be at least seventeen. Though short and slender, the thin wrap she had tied about her revealed mature curves. Leif quickly realized what he was staring at and blushed furiously, glancing away.

  “S-sorry,” he fumbled, “didn’t mean to-”

  “Why you red?” She interrupted, looking puzzled.

  “What?” He asked, surprised out of his discomfort. He quickly began checking his body for blood before realizing she meant his face and relaxed.

  “Nothing,” he said, hoping to avoid the topic, “I mean, who are you?”

  She arched a thin black eyebrow and said, “Ria. Said already.” Then an identical look of frustration passed across her face quickly before she refocused with a smile, “I said already!” emphasizing the ‘I’ in such an amazingly childish way that Leif laughed.

  “I know, you said that already,” he continued after overcoming his amusement, “I mean, how did you get here?” Then it was his turn to look puzzled. “Weren’t you a wolf?”

  He couldn’t understand how it could be, but everything pointed to that truth. The eyes were just part of it, that feeling he had sensed with the wolf was stronger than it had ever been before, and her face almost looked like the wolf’s had. Her long, wavy black hair was even the exact shade Shadow’s coat had been.

  Her demeanor shifted almost immediately from childishly inquisitive to defensive and forlorn.

  “Yes.” She almost whispered, turning her shoulder to him and wrapping her slender arms tightly around her chest. “City took it away. Make me human. Want it back.” Each statement was less and less discernible.

  He wasn’t sure what to say to bring her back, to cheer her up, but as he tried to think of something he noticed that her crossed arms, though thin, were corded with tight muscle. It was the same with her legs, bare from the thigh down and he realized that she was still suffering greatly from malnourishment. Then she shivered and he felt a fool; she had no idea how properly to clothe herself, which was why she was so scantily clad, she was probably freezing.

  He got to his feet and went to grab one of the black robes, knowing exactly how to distract her from what she had lost. “Let’s get some food, you look hungry.”

  She brightened immediately as he helped her into the far more suitable garb.

  Alec

  “Hello there, young man!” The ancient figure who had treated and housed him said as he looked up from a very strange, box looking object with hundreds of square, brown leaves that rustled as he closed it. “I had hoped you’d survived.” The plate of food the boy had left was resting on the table next to him, untouched.

  “Why are you down here? What does Gerard want with you?” Alec was excited. He had begun to lose enthusiasm for his search, but now he had stumbled upon something important, he felt sure of it.

  “Well, well, straight to the point. You young people always are in a hurry… Why are you here?” He spoke in a slow, wavering voice that almost seemed to echo from a deep well of history. “I would think, with how that strange man has me cooped up down here in the dark, that he would have me more effectively guarded.” He continued, looking back down at his wrinkled hands and seeming to forget Alec was there. “Perhaps you are my guard.” The last brought him back to focus, though he sounded thoroughly disinterested in the idea.

  “No, I’m his second in command.” He said dismissively, impatient to learn what he could. “I was looking for…” He continued, but trailed off, not really sure what he had been doing, he had been looking for something but... “What do you know about him? Why didn’t he kill you?”

  The old man laughed. It was a strange thing. Alec didn’t understand why until he realized it was the first time he had heard the sound in weeks.

  “You sound so concerned about my welfare… His second, you say.” His voice drifted off in contemplation, frustrating Alec. He wasn’t sure how long he had before his unintended discovery was no longer secret.

  “Please, just tell me what’s going on. I don’t know why Gerard is interested in you, but I am sure it’s important.”

  He looked back up, surprised. “Why he wants me? You are his second, or so you claim, why don’t you just ask him?”

  Alec mentally took a step back and realized he had been speaking quite forcefully and with a command uncomfortably similar to the way Gerard acted. Perhaps the man was truly molding Alec in his own image, despite Alec’s resistance. It was a disturbing thought.

  “I’m sorry, excuse me. Thank you for taking me in and treating my injuries. I was not expecting to find you at all. He mentioned needing you and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. So much has changed in my life recently...” He trailed off again, not sure what to say. The man slowly sat back down.

  “Well then… He didn’t seem like the type of man to share secrets.” A dry chuckle and hint of disgust spawned a spark of hope in Alec’s chest. Perhaps this man could help him after all.

  “I am
here because I can read.”

  Alec didn’t know that word. It must have been obvious in his face because the man waved him over, looking frustrated but resigned.

  “This is called a book. It’s the reason, among others, that I’m useful to the monstrous ruler of this backwards place, and probably, as you guessed, why I’m not feeding the fishes as we speak.”

  “But, what is it?” Alec asked, still completely in the dark as to why Gerard would have him down here just to play with dusty boxes.

  “This, my young friend, is the legacy of an age. I’ll teach you its mysteries, if you wish, but first,” he held out a papery, veined hand, “My name is Jeremiah Richter. Who are you?”

  From then on he abandoned his already hopeless search for the boys and began learning a different kind of knowledge from that taught by Gerard. He learned about language, ideas, and the curious scribbles in the things Jeremiah called books. He also learned about the human body and how it worked, among other things. It was amazing how much this man knew.

  “I was a doctor before the collapse. I left the cities long before their fall, though. I was quite unique, back then. Still am now, I suppose” This was all the explanation he had received. Jeremiah had a way of losing focus when he spoke, drifting off into what Alec assumed were memories. Perhaps when someone got that old their great store of past experiences overwhelmed the present. Alec wondered how much he could learn, if only he could access that wealth of experience.

  It seemed, at first, that the only reason Jeremiah bothered with Alec was immense boredom, but he began to sense a shared hatred for the giant and, perhaps, something like friendship. His hope of overcoming the madman had dwindled to nothing, but maybe, if he found other people to join his cause, there might be a chance.