Chronicles of Galadria I_The Other World

by David Gay-Perret

  The combat that followed, two against one, was, to say the least, both epic and unbalanced, and naturally in Uziere’s favor; every blow from the boys encountered only his sword or emptiness, and they never ceased stumbling and catching blows from the hand of Uziere, not to mention the sword strikes that stopped only a hair’s breadth away from causing serious injury. The man seemed to find frightening the boys amusing, though his face remained impassable.

  It had now been a long time since the girls had given up crying out at the attacks; everything passed too quickly, and they, too, were exhausted by the fatiguing effects of worry and being constantly startled. Glaide continued to attack, but he was running out of endurance. When served a blow of the hand to the stomach, he went flying backwards. He dropped his weapon as he collapsed. Jeremy turned towards his friend, and his adversary took advantage of his distraction to disarm him with a sharp blow to the hand holding his sword, which he let fall to the ground. The two companions tried to regain their weapons, but Uziere sent them flying across the room. Then, he sheathed his weapon calmly and announced, “We’ll start tomorrow.”

  With that, the master of Iretane left the room. Relieved, Glaide let himself rest on the ground for a few moments – just long enough to catch his breath, and to let the whole scene pass through his mind again. He and Jeremy got up, then the two girls helped them towards the exit.

  And so the days passed. The boys trained for four to five hours every day, or more if they were able. They would need to be ready as soon as possible. However, the exercises proved to be disconcerting; they worked their wrists and forearms a great deal thanks to their practice with the staff and in hand-to-hand combat, but they never touched the sword. Their master had explained that they must first strengthen their arms to be able to strike with power, speed, and efficiency. The young men complied, though they dreamed of nothing but one day really learning how to use their weapons. Every day, the general came to learn how his wards were progressing. He was visibly pleased that they had the chance to train with the master, and he never ceased to encourage them.

  During that grueling week, the girls wandered throughout the streets of the village, without ever tiring of seeing the little lanes and shops. They visited the surroundings of the village on horseback, sharing the saddle with cavalry men, and never returning before evening, as the sun began to disappear beyond the horizon. It wasn’t until the fifth day that the girls discovered a problem that had never before crossed their minds: for now, they lived in the village at the expense of the army, and Drekhor had assured them it wasn’t a problem. However, later, once they’d begun their adventure, how would they live? The girls asked the general, who responded simply that as long as it was possible, the army would furnish their every need. The girls didn’t dare insist on a more straightforward answer, so they had to content themselves with his response.

  And so passed a week that the four friends considered perfect. The education of Glaide and Jeremy had begun, and, even though Glaide never had a chance to really discuss things with his master, he hoped to have an opportunity in the future. Jeremy, exhausted by the exercise, nonetheless began to become used to it. Gwenn loved the place where they were staying, and Emily, very slowly, began to gain a taste for the life here, which would be theirs for an... indeterminate period of time.

  The new week began with a cry from the sentinel; they had observed a banner waving in the distance. The orks had been strangely calm the last several days; there had not been a single attack – not even a suicide mission, like the typical ones that prevented the soldiers from ever having a rest. The soldiers had taken advantage of that to regain their strength, and had relaxed their surveillance a bit. But today, a banner waved in the distance.

  Glaide and Jeremy were informed, though they were in the middle of sweating profusely under the command of Uziere. They changed out of their kimonos – clothing that Glaide was especially fond of, and that they used only for training – and put on their normal clothing, then ran out to the watchtower to see something that made their blood run cold: an army of at least five hundred orks was approaching. Without stopping to ask questions, the two friends sought out their maggs, who they found in the middle of eating. They briefly explained the situation, and the girls followed them to the tower to see the chaotic advancement of the ork army.

  All of the soldiers, now perfectly restored to health, were assembled. There were at least two hundred, which was certainly not insignificant, but was all the same insufficient in the face of their enemies. Then, the words Jeremy and Glaide had heard during the previous battle came to mind. Their enemies hadn’t lied: they had brought this regiment to kill them, and now, they were about to raze an entire village, only to discover that their quarries were no longer there, because Glaide would do what the general had told him to do. They would leave: Glaide and his three friends. The village would be destroyed, and it would be their fault. But why?

  “Why?” whispered the adolescent out loud.

  “So then, you think we should follow the instructions of Drekhor?” asked Jeremy, his eyes riveted on the wave of monsters.

  “Yes...”

  “It doesn’t make me happy to abandon this place, but I don’t really see what we could do. And everyone seems to place great importance on our survival,” commented Emily, carefully.

  “I agree: these people have been very good to us, but if we want to thank them, we have to leave,” murmured Gwenn. “That being said, adventuring outside of these walls doesn’t please me much. We don’t know where to go.”

  “That’s another issue entirely,” responded Glaide. “At any rate, I think that as long as the four of us are together, that won’t be a problem. We’ll choose a destination when the time comes.” The three friends nodded in agreement, and the two girls returned to the inn to gather their things.

  “Glaide, are you actually sad for this village?” demanded Jeremy suddenly.

  “To be perfectly honest, I hope that they’ll make it somehow. But at this point, I don’t feel like I can truly comprehend what’s happening or what this all means. And you?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  Just as the general had said he would, he soon appeared. He carried a map, some provisions, a letter written on the city’s special paper, and some small squares of metal in various sizes. He began to give all of those things to the group, just as the girls returned from the inn with a sack and some more provisions. Drekhor, in a perfectly natural and calm tone of voice, said, “First, I want to give you this letter, written in my hand. It will give you access to the king without difficulty. Give it to him. It explains who you are, what has happened to the Guardian, and some other things as well.” The young people took the document without a word.

  “Now, let me tell you about these metal squares. These are dras, the currency of the realm. As you can see, they come in different sizes and different values. Here you have the entire fortune of this village.” The man shoved the great purses into the hands of the young people.

  Before any of them could protest, he added, “I also have with me a map of the Known Lands. We are here,” he said, indicating a village in the southwest corner of the map. To the right was the Forest of the Worlds. Glaide took up the map with great care, but his mind was elsewhere, as were those of his friends – far from the letter, the money, and the map.

  With a sigh, Drekhor declared, “The inhabitants of the village will also take up arms, but, though there are as many of us as there are of our enemies, we have much less training overall.” He was calm, and gave them a big smile before continuing, “I’m glad to have met you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you for longer. There are still many things that you don’t know. Please, don’t forget us.”

  Then, a soldier came to inform him that the opposing army was now within range. The general left to rejoin his men, and all of the inhabitants of the village turned towards the four teens and cheered for them. With the cries still reson
ating at their backs, they left by a hidden door at the back of the village. They ran as quickly as they could to reach the small hill before them that would take them the farthest from Rackk. However, despite the great distance, they could still distinctly hear the order given by Drekhor.

  “Fire!!!”

  Chapter 7

  THE four friends were morose: for the second time in only a few days, they were alone. Everyone who came near them seemed to be destined to the same fate. But they couldn’t let themselves fall into despondency. After all, they were no longer surrounded by the vast and insurmountable plain, and they now had a map, food, and money. They could now go wherever seemed good to them, even if they weren’t sure where to start. And above all, just as Glaide had said, as long as the four of them were together, the situation couldn’t be hopeless. After thinking black thoughts about their own guilt, and the senselessness of all those deaths (because they were under no illusions: the village would be destroyed, and, even with what little experience of them they had, they knew the orks would leave no survivors), they turned their eyes to the map.

  Their first impression was that it was empty. There were only a few villages here and there, and mountains and forests that seemed more like decorations than actual places. They looked again for their position on the map – a bit above and to the left of the Forest of the Worlds, the beginning of their adventure, or of their misadventure. That being said – and whatever the case – they needed to come up with some kind of plan and follow it.

  The four friends agreed to head towards what appeared to be a large city – the capital, perhaps. It was marked on the map as a building and two towers, one tall and thin, the other larger but not as tall, surrounded by a wall. The image was accompanied by some beautiful writing indicating “Shinozuka”. The place, however, was situated much farther north, and they couldn’t measure the distance, as no scale was marked on the map. They estimated that it would take at least a week of walking if they hurried. Besides, since they weren’t used to long treks, it was possible, or even probable, that their time estimate might even be doubled.

  They decided to first head for a village along the way called Adrish. There were other cities marked along the way to Shinozuka, but Glaide refused to stop sooner, under the pretext that Drekhor’s missive should be taken to the king as quickly as possible. The group paused no longer, and began to walk. No one spoke.

  Glaide soon regained his usual good humor as he looked around at the beautiful countryside surrounding them: the fields, the hills, the rocks. However, he had at least the wisdom to hide his joy from the others, and not to break the silence that had settled on the group. He knew that his friends had been affected greatly by what had happened; they had seen Rackk as a ray of hope in the darkness, like a flash of gaiety in the middle of the sadness, and to see their paradise disappear like that shocked them. He personally hoped – quite sincerely – that they would find those same characteristics in Adrish and Shinozuka.

  Time passed, and the constant noise of their footsteps striking the ground – which had previously been the only perceptible sound – began to be broken more and more often by deep breaths, murmurs, and the muted sounds of wheezing. It was Gwenn who proposed, in a jovial tone, that they take a break. The idea was immediately accepted by the entire group, and they sat down in the grass at the side of the path. They gave themselves ten minutes of rest, during which they loosened their tongues: they spoke of their destination and their fears about the distance they would have to cover, but no one mentioned Rackk. The group began moving again.

  Their journey was calm. They stopped from time to time to rest, then began again. They had animated conversations, and the journey didn’t weigh on them. The path they were following was of dirt, and to the side were immense fields. Or rather, only to one side. To the other side, the little group could distinguish mountains with jagged peaks rising up out of a fog. They had a menacing allure, and the barren peaks, looking like deformed creatures, seemed ready to collapse upon them at any moment. Glaide couldn’t suppress a shiver; the sight of the mountains made his blood run cold. Though the weather was beautiful, and they generally traveled in the light of the sun, not knowing what was behind them left him apprehensive. Gwenn asked the young man for the map, to check if the protuberances were marked there. The range was marked exactly where it should be, and the parchment also held a name: Fyth. However, it gave no other information, and they returned to their path, trying not to look in the direction of the mountains.

  Several hours later, they stopped again. They were hungry, and it was far past lunchtime. Not knowing how long they would have to rely on their provisions, despite having a large stock, they contented themselves with just a piece of bread to tide them over until the evening meal. They returned to their route in the middle of the afternoon. They didn’t know if they would arrive before evening, and if they didn’t, what they would do. Time passed, and the mountains disappeared. They decided they must have moved farther into the lowlands; their destination approached.

  The group had been walking for a long time, but they hadn’t traveled very far at all. They were so used to traveling by car that it was inconceivable that after walking for an hour, they’d traveled less than three miles instead of seventy or eighty. They realized then how much more athletic mankind must have been a few centuries earlier. However, it was good for them, and gave them a chance to sort their thoughts – even if they were faced with a multitude of aches and pains!

  Suddenly, the four teens found themselves facing a forest. They had noted its appearance in the distance long ago, and had tried to find a way to avoid it, but it was much too large, and would have required a massive detour. Plus, not being familiar with their surroundings, they didn’t want to risk becoming completely lost. The border of the forest didn’t seem even the tiniest bit welcoming: light filtered through the thick foliage only with difficulty, and they could discern a number of sounds, elusive and subdued, infringing on the silence of their more immediate surroundings.

  The group hesitated for a long moment; this place promised nothing but danger. They didn’t so much fear orks; they could confront them and flee if need be. No, more than that, they feared the unknown. All of the spooks and nightmares of their childhood could become reality. But they had to move on, and, as Glaide observed, in the forest, they could at least attempt to fight, whereas if they became lost in their surroundings... Besides, the path through the forest appeared to have been traveled many times, while the plains surrounding them were void of all marks from men. And so, they entered, swords in hand.

  The path was tranquil, and, even if they could not see its end, the adolescents remained calm, though on their guard. Their master – even if they had not worked with him for long – had taught them little about the sword itself; however, he had spoken at length about paying attention to one’s sense of danger, being prudent, and keeping one’s composure. Here, they could put into practice what they had learned; the canopy of the trees hid the sun, and they advanced through such darkness that they could only rely on their instincts and their sense of hearing.

  None could say how long they traveled. For a long while now, the four friends had given up conversation, preferring instead to listen attentively to their surroundings. Glaide didn’t dare use the light on his watch for fear of being spotted by something, and the group no longer knew if it was day or night. They had completely lost their bearings, and they now hoped for only one thing: escaping this place as quickly as possible. But the farther they traveled, the longer the path seemed to be. “If we could only get out of here...” thought Glaide, with a hint of anxiety.

  As they traveled, he often thought back to a story Drekhor had recounted, back in Rackk. It was the story of the Iretane school: a man had come to the village and had secretly taught his knowledge of weapons to a protector. And so they had become the first master and the first student of Iretane. Back in that distant time, the teaching of combat did not yet exist, and pro
tectors guarded their maggs with great difficulty. Back then, there were many more orks, and protectors knew only what they had learned on their own. For a time, that was enough, as they mostly remained in large cities. However, years later, when they needed to travel about, that knowledge became insufficient. The world was in great danger, and this first master ensured the future of Galadria.

  Around the same time, a new warrior manifested himself: very skilled, this fighter had learned from early on the usage of many varied weapons, such as the lance, the sword, the staff, and many others. He was said to come from beyond the mountains to the east. He created schools training up great masters, though these never mastered the technique of Iretane, like that skilled combatant from before, because it was effectually the technique of a protector. The study and use of Iretane required the presence of a magg. From that point, the general had said he knew nothing more. But he had added that these new masters, taught by this warrior prodigy, had added their own secret techniques and specific ways of fighting to their body of knowledge, creating numerous different styles of combat for all of the existing weapons. It was for that reason that many different schools existed.

  That first warrior, who had enabled the world to protect itself, remained in memory under the name Novak the Liberator. However, the name of that first master – who had brought knowledge of Iretane and instructed the first protector – had been lost, as had the identity of the protector. Nevertheless, Drekhor had explained that, accompanied by his magg, the warrior had traveled to numerous villages, dispensing his knowledge. Nonetheless, and despite the increasing numbers of his disciples, in the end only one true master of Iretane existed for each generation. The general concluded that though the school of Iretane made use of what was known as “the true power of maggs”, no one really knew what that reference meant. Now, all of those men were dead, though according to legend, there remained somewhere descendants of Novak, and perhaps even of the first protector.