The Cradle of the Gods (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 1)

by Thomas Quinn Miller

  There were only five of them, a small number, considering the vargan usually traveled in larger packs. Gaidel wondered why this group held so few and why it had risked raiding so close to the Cradle. Vargan were cunning, intelligent hunters and not known to take risks. The Cradle was home to humans and protected by the Redwood Druids. This small pack had chosen to hunt within the Cradle's boundaries and killed two of its people. Gaidel could still hear the discordant song the trees had sung where she and Two Elks found the bodies. From the trees she had learned the foresters had not provoked the vargan and confirmed the bodies had not been fed upon. To kill for food or in self-defense would have at least meant the vargan were living by the All Mother's laws, but this pack had done neither. They had killed the two men for the pleasure of it. She could not let that stand.

  Gaidel and Two Elks rose up from the foliage as one, the bond they shared as druid and shieldwarden communicating intentions quicker than words. The vargan fell silent below them, ears twitching to locate the sound. Two Elks pulled the shield from his back in a practiced movement and slammed his stone axe against it, roaring a challenge.

  Closing her eyes, Gaidel breathed in deeply and cleared her mind of all thought. She began to sing. Reality faded from view as she entered the song, flowing along with it. She could feel the Sun's warmth on the tops of her many leaves, feeding her.

  She lilted along the song, searching. There! She could sense them. The vargan's discordant beat fought against the surrounding rhythm. They were all young males. She growled with the rage she felt within them.

  Concentrating, she beseeched the song to follow her rhythms and bring the powers of nature against those who would cause such discordance. The song ignored her as it thundered along. The winds continued to dance, laughing at her attempt to tame them. She was so young and her voice so small. She lowered her pitch and began singing to the trees in their own slow cadence.

  At the sound of her song, the vargan attacked. They howled and barked as they fell from two legs to all four to climb out of the ravine.

  Two Elks voiced his fury as they came, moving to keep himself between Gaidel and their attackers. Through the bond he sensed the song thundering deep within Gaidel and knew she was unable to defend herself when lost in the song.

  The vargan leader reached Two Elks first and sprang out of the ravine, bringing its fangs and claws to bear. It never reached him. Its growl cut off as a large branch swung down with bone crushing speed.

  Two Elks raised his voice in thanks to the trees for answering Gaidel's call. Another branch swung through the charging pack forcing them to leap and dive to avoid the fate of their leader.

  The vargan leader shook its head, trying to clear it. Bone jutted through torn flesh at its shoulder. Snarling through the pain it rose only to meet the sharp head of a stone axe.

  Two Elks felt the satisfying crunch as he brought the axe down. The vargan would not rise again. He immediately looked for another target. Of the remaining four, two lay on the ground unmoving. The other two jumped and tried to stay away from the swinging trees, leaves and debris swirling around them.

  In unison, Gaidel's song and the trees' attack ceased. Gaidel opened her eyes and pulled her wooden staff from its leather bonds. She breathed deeply and concentrated to clear her mind and vision. She could still feel the vargan's pawed feet as they ran across her skin, felt their furred flesh give beneath her wooden limbs.

  She could not ride the flows of the All Mother's song any longer without losing herself in them. She was only just raised as a druid. Though they had never truly fought together before she somehow knew Two Elks was there protecting her until her senses returned.

  The remaining two vargan snarled and focused their anger on Two Elks, glancing nervously at the now motionless trees. They slowly stalked towards him, fanning out to present separate targets.

  Two Elks seemed to wait as they flanked him. He must have sensed Gaidel had not quite freed herself of the song. He shook his axe to keep his enemies' attention. He did not have long to wait. They sprang towards him, one coming in low, the other high.

  Two Elks raised his shield and pivoted, turning his shoulder to help absorb the impact. Letting the force of the vargan slamming into the shield spin him, he rolled his shield over his head and down towards the ground. The rotation brought his axe up in a low sweeping arc. The axe bit deep into the neck and shoulder of the low charging vargan, throwing it back in a spray of blood. Continuing the motion, Two Elks drove the other vargan, still against his shield, hard into the ground, allowing the momentum to carry him over, slamming his full weight into the now pinned creature.

  Gaidel stepped forward and brought her staff down one, two, three times on the creature's muzzle before it stopped struggling.

  Two Elks rose, unsheathing his deer-bone knife, and went to be sure the others would not rise again.

  Her first real battle and against five vargan no less. It had all happened so fast. Her hands were visibly shaking. Gaidel took a deep breath and suddenly felt like crying. It felt like she was just now remembering to breathe.

  Two Elks returned carrying a number of furred ears still dripping blood. Gaidel drew back in revulsion as he made to hand her two.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  He motioned the grisly prize towards her again. “Good kills. These are yours.”

  “I don't want those!” she said.

  Two Elks shrugged and started sorting through his pack for something to hold his new trophies.

  “Young males forced to leave pack,” Two Elks said as he set about his task. “Leader killed men to show strength.” He glanced up at her. “You fought good.” He seemed to think for a moment before adding, “Gaidel.”

  Gaidel started to reply that of course she did and the word he should use is well, but found herself just nodding.

  “Hurry,” Two Elks said as he stood and took off in a slow run. “Drops too dangerous come dark.”

  Gaidel took one last look at the scene and then hurried to catch up. If they could at least sight the South Falls before it was too dark to travel, they should be safe. In the morning, they would make their way up the cliffs into the Redwood proper. Redwood village was only a short distance from the falls. She would be home.

  10

  Redwood Village

  Hargas leaned lazily against the thick trunk of the redwood and stared out through its branches. He hated guard duty. His bow and spear leaned against the wooden palisade a short distance away. He knew he was supposed to keep his weapons closer and his bow slung, but he had just won that bow not a week before playing at dice and he would kiss the Hungerer's backside before he was going to leave it slung when he wasn't about to use it.

  “Good way to ruin a bow”, his paps had always said. He could brace his bow faster than anyone else in Redwood village he would be willing to wager twice.

  Hargas glanced down the worn wooden planks of the wall-walk running along the palisade to make sure the guard sergeant wasn't coming. That old coot took his duties way too seriously.

  Hargas stretched and walked along the palisade to get the blood flowing. He watched those below going about their business. He didn't see much traffic going or coming out of the Lady's Grace. He had been having a good bit of luck at the dice and had his eye on that metal blade of Torber's. He had almost got him to ante the blade up last night.

  “Lady's Grace, my hairy backside”, he muttered to himself and spat off the wall-walk. He watched it fall onto one the thatched roofs that ran along the inside of the palisade.

  The inn used to be called the Three Arrows before Orson's daughter was chosen by the druids a couple years back. A name Hargas preferred. Though the name had changed, the patrons had not. It was still the best place to go for a good game of dice and a Rock Stout. Even the new wooden sign of a druid reaching up with arms outstretched to the sky hadn't stopped the locals from calling it the Three Arrows.

  By Daomur's beard, if it wasn't Orson's d
aughter herself.

  Hargas saw the half shaved head and blue curving tattoos that marked the druid walking on the high street below him. The largest plainsman Hargas had ever laid eyes on walked next to her carrying the shield of a shieldwarden over his shoulder. It looked like a child's toy on him.

  Hargas spat again and chuckled. Choosing a plainsman as a shieldwarden was daft enough, bringing him back to Redwood with her even more so. Hargas already saw heads turning and dark stares following the duo. The plainsmen were not liked. Maybe some of those uplanders would look past it since he was a shieldwarden and all, but the folk of Redwood village were not uplanders. A man had to be good with the bow and spear in the Redwood, even better in the Drops where the best hunting was. Of course, they were used as much for protection against the raiding plainsmen as for hunting.

  Hargas forgot about his guard duties and found a seat on the wall-walk to better see the front of the Lady's Grace. Guard duty was not going to continue to be boring he would wager.

  “My girl!” Orson called. He came from around the bar on the far side of the common room of the Lady's Grace.

  Gaidel smiled at the man who had found her in the woods all those years ago and took her as his daughter. She had only been away for two years, but his already portly belly had grown. She noted the healthy head of curly hair he had always been so proud of was more gray than brown.

  “Hello, Father,” Gaidel said. She bowed and turned her palms upward.

  “There will be none of that foolishness here girl,” Orson said. He closed the distance between them, arms outstretched.

  Two Elks started to step forward, but a tilt of the head from Gaidel stopped him. He tried to slow her father's advance, but Orson scooped her up in a loving hug.

  “I have missed my girl. Let me look at you.” He held her at arm's length and took the whole of her in.

  “I knew you were going to have to shave off those lovely red curls of yours, but what have you been eating? You are as thin as a Southfalls stork!” He gripped her arms and grinned. “Stronger though if these muscles of yours have anything to say.”

  Gaidel let the Three Arrows pass over her like a warm breeze. The place had been her home until her coming of age. She felt that breeze carrying away the experiences of the past two years.

  Long tables and benches of stained and well-worn redwood filled every available space. Only the entryway and the area around the central circular stone hearth were spared. She used to hide under those protective tables and tease the very same hunters and foresters she would later serve when she was older. The door to her father's private back rooms was open. She glanced at the stairway leading up to the second floor and open room where guests could rent a spot on the floor.

  Her father followed her gaze and smiled wider. “Your room is just as you left it. I was hoping the festival was going to bring you back to me. Tell me you're staying longer than just one night?”

  Gaidel smiled and gave him another hug. “Sorry, Da. Just for the night. We need to make for Lakeside and the festival. Mother Brambles will attend and has sent for me.”

  Orson seemed to notice Two Elks for the first time, sized him up, and found him wanting. Her father was the kindest man she had ever known. He had always been gentle and patient with her, but as an innkeeper he had to deal with all sorts and in a village like Redwood, those sorts could be pretty rough. He had developed a certain way of looking through a person, a turn of the head, a straightness to the mouth, that told a person he was not to be trifled with. He used that look on Two Elks now.

  “A plainsman as your shieldwarden? The All Mother protect you, Dellie Girl.”

  Gaidel reddened at her father's childhood name for her. “Da, please.”

  “This one sleep upstairs,” Orson said.

  Two Elks, whose head had not cleared the lintel when they entered, looked down at him. “Daughter Gaidel sleeps where Two Elks can protect.” Two Elks said. He crossed his thick arms over his chest to add to the sincerity of the statement.

  Gaidel tried to contain her smile when she saw Orson's face change shades. She had seen him scrap with some of the meanest men in the Redwood, but thought he had met his match in Two Elks. At least ten years older than her, the shieldwarden was in his prime.

  The scratching of nearby benches and the smack of cudgels being tested against hands told Gaidel her father would have help from his regulars, but Gaidel still feared Two Elks might hurt someone. The Three Arrows would consider a night unfulfilled if some mishap or insult didn't result in an offering of a tooth or blood from a split lip or broken nose. But Two Elks had grown up on the Nordlah Plains and mishaps and insults usually resulted in deaths.

  Gaidel reached up slowly and placed her hand on Two Elks' crossed arms. He didn't seem to notice any trouble and still stared matter-of-factly at the blustering innkeeper.

  “Two Elks can sleep outside my door, Father,” Gaidel said.

  “Your locked door?” Orson said, still sizing up Two Elks for a beating.

  “Of course, Da,” Gaidel said. She bowed her head, holding her palms upward.

  Orson sighed, patting her hands. “Stop that now. It's alright boys.” He motioned the two towards a table near the hearth. The handful of men who had stood, ready to support the beating of the plainsman, hung their cudgels back on their belts and settled into the benches, with sighs of disappointment.

  Gaidel knew there would be trouble if Two Elks remained in the common room for any length of time. Already news of the arrival of a plainsmen barbarian would have traveled through the village.

  “Da, might we take our food and drink in the back rooms?” Her tone caused Orson to glance around.

  “Nothing's gonna happen in the Lady's Grace what I don't let happen.” Orson said this louder than was necessary.

  “Even so, Father,” Gaidel said in the voice she always used with him to get her way. She got her way as he finally nodded.

  “I also bring sad news. We found the bodies of two woodsman in the Drops yesterday,” Gaidel said.

  “What happened?” Orson said.

  “It was the vargan,” Gaidel said.

  “Vargan hunting the Drops? Are you sure, Honored Daughter?” one of the closer patrons, who had obviously been listening in, asked.

  “Yes, we hunted them down and punished them for what they had done,” Gaidel said.

  Orson looked at the two of them as if for the first time and nodded, giving Gaidel another firm squeeze. “I'm sure you did, Girl.”

  “Could be Tyber and his boy,” Orson said after some thought. “We will send a party down. Tell us where to find them.”

  The stiffness in Gaidel's neck and shoulders slowly abated as she and Two Elks took their meal seated upon casks in the back room of the Three Arrows. She was home. Orson had even prepared her favorite dish, dove stuffed with garlic and mushrooms. He had insisted on cooking it for her. The familiar pangs of regret over leaving him returned.

  His wife had died trying to give birth to his first child. Orson might have remarried, but had found a very young Gaidel hidden in the rotted out nook of an old tree. She did not remember her family, but was told they had been foresters. They had fallen victim to a vargan raiding party somewhere in the Drops.

  Orson had recounted the details of the day he had found her. He was part of the group who had joined with the fangs to track the raiding party down. None of the men could coax her out of her hiding place. She had only come out when Orson had sung a song his Mattie used to sing while she cooked. The young Gaidel and her adopted father had been inseparable from that day until her Choosing. If it had not been for the pride on his face that day, she wouldn't have left him to become a druid then.

  But the inn kept him busy and he didn't seem to need a wife or a helper to keep it running. He seemed to have a wife in the Three Arrows in every way that mattered to him. At least, that was the truth Gaidel convinced herself of.

  “This was,” Two Elks searched for the word, “home?�
��

  Gaidel nodded and looked around the store room that doubled as Orson's room. She motioned to the small room beyond. “That was, or is, my room.”

  Two Elks downed the last of his drink and wiped his mouth on his bare forearm. He took another look around and shook his head. “You are from strange people, these Gwa A'Chooks.”

  The dwellings of the Cradle were still foreign to him. His people moved constantly across the plains, following the herds of the giant tufters. His people built their whole society around those massive creatures. Their homes were made from their furs and long tusks. Almost all of their men were what the people of the Cradle considered fangs, protectors and followers of the way of the druids.

  Two Elks' people thought of the cradlers as “Gwa A'Chooks”. Her understanding of the plainsmen's tongue was not very good, but she thought it translated literally to spoiled animal of the dwarfs, or simply, dwarf's pets.

  Gaidel knew her people were strong and proud. A people who had found balance with Mother Allwyn and her children here in the Cradle of the Gods, just as the Nordlah Barbarians had found a balance with her in the plains. Life was not a stone, to be cut and carved to one's liking, but was an eternal song one had to join to find harmony.

  Gaidel smiled warmly at her protector.

  “As are we all.”

  11

  The Three Arrows

  Hargas sat in the Three Arrows and steamed. He had waited on the wall-walk for a fight to break out in the inn until the Guard Sergeant had found him and added another shift to his time. He was going to give the old coot a piece of his mind, but finally had to admit it would only result in him getting more time added and probably a good thrashing to boot.

  In Hargas' mind the blame lay squarely on the shoulders of the plainsman. It was obviously his fault for distracting him from his duties.