Aikur's War

by Sam Ferguson

  Aikur nodded soberly. “All of this could have been avoided if only Consuert had contained his greed.” Aikur reached back to touch the shaft of his axe. “Be vigilant. We may very well need to defend ourselves as we cross the mountains.”

  Aikur led the men quietly beyond the battle field and into the trees at the base of the mountains. No fires were lit that night, for fear it may draw attention to them. Aikur stood first watch, sitting up in a birch tree and looking down at the forest floor. The night was calm and cool, and silent. The moon danced in and out of the long silvery clouds above as the night dragged on.

  The next morning the men were up and trekking through the woods. They followed a small stream up over a hillside of dead leaves and twigs. The walked for hours before they neared the top of the first mountain, it being roughly a third as tall as the mountains behind it, with the sun well overhead. Just as they were about to crest over the peak, Aikur signaled for the men to stop. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he had seen a large shadow move along the peak. Aikur signaled again and two of the king’s men broke off to the left to flank around and scout. Another went to the right. Aikur slowly slid his black sword out from its scabbard and held it at the ready.

  The men disappeared over the top, keeping low with the brush.

  Aikur strained his ears, listening for anything that could clue him in to what lay ahead. The hairs on the back of his neck rose to stand on end. His instincts told him something was wrong. He started up the hill, running silently with his blade ready.

  “Giant!” a shout called out from over the top of the slope. The scream was followed by one of the king’s men flying out over the slope, crashing through branches and landing grotesquely several yards beyond the group. Aikur could hear the other warriors grunting and dodging while a heavy, lumbering thump crashed through trees and stone.

  No sooner had he reached the top than he saw a fat, enormously thick, giant. It stood half as tall as the nearby pines and birch trees, and its arms were easily as thick as the biggest tree trunk. He wielded a crude hammer made from a log with a large stone secured to the top. He swung wildly at the other two that had gone ahead to scout, narrowly missing them as they flipped and somersaulted this way and that.

  “Arrows!” Aikur commanded. Not more than two seconds later a slew of arrows flew through the air. The giant managed to knock some of them away with his massive hammer, but a few hit their mark and dug in deeply through his gray-blue flesh. The giant roared and tore the shafts from his side. Then he charged.

  “Aim for his head!” Aikur shouted. None of them had enough time to fire. The giant was upon them in three steps, swinging his massive hammer down and forcing the men to scatter for their lives. Aikur was used to dealing with such foes, however. So when he dodged, he lunged in closer. He slashed out at the inside of the giant’s left shin, then he spun around and hacked into the giant’s right hamstring. His sword bit deep into the flesh and spilt a generous amount of the brownish-red blood, but the giant did not stop. He kicked and fought, forcing Aikur to jump away.

  An axe flew through the air and landed solidly in the back of the giant’s left shoulder. The monstrosity wheeled around screaming and howling, spit and slobber flinging out from his inflamed gums and lips. Another warrior ran in close, leaping up to bury his spear into the giant’s protruding belly. The giant reflexively swatted the man away, sending him crashing into a nearby tree.

  “The eyes!” Aikur shouted as he signaled for more arrows.

  The giant was slowing now, and could not stop more than a couple of the arrows that assailed him from every direction. The steel heads tore into the flesh around his neck and head. The beast screamed horribly and tumbled backward down the slope, crashing to a stop against a large birch tree.

  Aikur, unsatisfied with leaving the giant alive, sprinted down the hill, jumped atop the great foe and plunged his sword straight down into its heart. The giant’s gray eyes went wide for a moment, and then it exhaled its final, foul breath and went limp.

  The king’s men gathered around and then moved to fetch the wounded. To their dismay, the other two were dead. The first that had been thrown had his neck and back broken in several places. The second had likely died when hitting the tree, as his head was smashed in and his skull was no longer intact.

  “They died bravely,” Aikur said. “A giant is no easy foe to slay, much like a minotaur in New Konnland.” He looked around to the others and nodded admiringly. “I would not think less of any man here if he wished to return home. This fight is not yours, and I cannot ask you to continue on with me.”

  Finnigrel stepped in and spoke up first. “You didn’t ask us to do it, the king asked for volunteers. We are with you until the end.” The others nodded and grunted their agreement.

  Aikur wiped his sword on the giant’s leather breeches and then slid it back into his scabbard. “You are honorable warriors that any Konnon commander would be happy to take into the fold in New Konnland,” he said. They spent the next several hours burying the dead and giving them their final rites. Then, they travelled on to To’ander, a city of the elves nestled in the great oak forest in the mountains.

  No sooner had they entered the wood when a she elf appeared from behind an enormous oak tree. She wore a gown of silk, sky blue and shimmering in the sunlight. A great crown of emerald green sat upon her head and a long scimitar hung from her left hip.

  “I am Tilwylen,” she said softly. “I have received word from the king of the humans that you would be coming here.”

  Aikur stepped forward and the others stood still, watching the trees. “I have come to ask a favor,” Aikur said. “I need a cloak.”

  Tilwylen held up her slender hand and pressed her fingers to Aikur’s lips. “You desire a cloak woven from an elf’s white hair.” She let her hand slide down and gently brush Aikur’s chest before she stepped around his side, surveying the warrior carefully. “And what will you do with such a prize?”

  “The cloak will help me sneak by the sentinels in Hammenfein,” Aikur replied openly. “If the king told you I was coming, then surely he told you of my plight.”

  The elf nodded and bit her lower lip as she completed a circle around the warrior. “What you ask is not so easily done as shearing a sheep,” she said. “An elf’s hair is inherently imbued with magic, and as such it augments the abilities of the elf. The longer the hair, and the brighter the color, the more benefit the elf may draw upon. To ask for enough white hair to make an entire cloak is to ask much.”

  Aikur nodded and knelt reverently. “I know it is not a simple trinket for which I ask, but I must have it. My wife and child even now are held in Hammenfein without cause, other than the fact that no one performed their final rites for them upon their deaths. Are there any among your people who would take pity on them, and weave for me this cloak, so I may free them from bondage? I will bring the cloak back to you after my family is safe.”

  Tilwylen nodded and stepped in close to Aikur, raising him up with her delicate, yet strong hands. “I have a proposition for you,” she said. “If you can perform a task for me, then I will have the cloak made for you.”

  “Anything, and I will do it.”

  “Come lie with me, in the meadow yonder,” Tilwylen said. “Our city has not seen the likes of your kind for many century, and it would please me well.”

  Aikur pulled away from her and furrowed his brow. “I cannot do this,” he said.

  Tilwylen cocked her head to the side and pursed her lower lip. “Am I not beautiful?” she asked.

  Aikur nodded. “You are indeed, but I am not free to give myself. I am married.”

  The elf folded her arms and narrowed her olive shaped eyes at the warrior. “Your wife is dead,” she said flatly. “There is no wrong in it.”

  Aikur shook his head. “Her spirit yet lives, and even should I fail in rescuing her, I could not dishonor our love like this.” He took a step back, still shaking his head. “I am sorry, but if this i
s your price, then I will take my chances without the cloak.”

  “Then you will be caught, and tormented for an eternity in the halls of Hammenfein along with your family,” Tilwylen said.

  “But my honor shall be intact,” Aikur replied. “I will find a way.” He turned to walk away, but Tilwylen appeared directly in front of him in the blink of an eye.

  “Fear not, honorable warrior, for it was only a test.” She gestured to the forest beyond and the trees slid aside to open a path. “Come, let us all go to my city, and we shall weave this cloak for you.”

  “A test?” Aikur repeated.

  The she elf nodded. “A gift so mighty, should only be bestowed upon one who knows the true value and meaning of virtue,” she replied. “Come, tonight you shall eat and rest while we prepare the garment.”

  The band of warriors followed the she elf through the magical path in the wood until they came to a city of green stone buildings. The beautiful elves danced about them in reception and set a grand feast upon a long table made from a great fallen tree. The scent of roast pig, venison, and pheasant teased Aikur’s nostrils while fruits and breads were laid out in abundance before them. The band drank deeply of sweet berry wine and ate their fill until all fell asleep in the cool grass under the white stars.

  It was then, after the band of warriors had drunk themselves to sleep, that Tilwylen invited Aikur to accompany her to a small pool of water where three other elves were gathered. The four elves each took a pair of shears and cut the hair from their heads as Aikur watched. They sang a sad song that filled the air with grief at the loss of their hair, yet as they finished and took the pile down to a grand loom made of gold and brass, they did change their songs to a happy melody of family and glory. Thus did they sing as they toiled all the night long to fashion a cloak for Aikur while the large Konnon warrior fell asleep.

  As the sun rose, Tilwylen laid the cloak over Aikur and bent down to kiss his forehead. “May the gods be with you on your quest,” she said. Then she, and all of her city, disappeared into the forest once more, and the band of warriors woke to find themselves alone, lying near trees and under bushes in the wood.

  Chapter 12

  “What manner of magic is this?” one of the warriors said as they woke from their sleep.

  “It matters not,” Aikur said. “We have what we came for.” He rose and fastened the cloak across his shoulders. The shining fabric was cool to the touch, and almost weightless. As he closed it around himself, the other warriors marveled and pointed with their fingers.

  “He’s gone!” one of them said.

  Aikur opened the cloak and the others smiled widely. “So it works then?” Aikur asked. The warriors nodded. Aikur then removed it from his shoulders and rolled it up to place it into his pack. “Onward, we must move to the edge of the sea.”

  The group travelled to the south, and then eastward. They came to Duerbet and restocked with supplies. Then they continued on to the deep, jagged canyons near Blanche Peak. They skirted along its southernmost edge, between the end of the canyons and the cliffs overlooking the sea. Here they began to search the dry sands, looking for any sign of desert dwellers, for they sought a particular well. They searched for days under the hot sun, taking refuge in whatever shade they could find. On the third day, their water skins ran dry and their bodies soon tired of thirst. Aikur searched the desert, looking for any sign of plant life or animals, but he could find nothing. They pushed eastward as long as their feet would carry them, and then fell down upon the sands, exhausted and dying for thirst.

  “Perhaps this won’t work,” one of the men said. “Maybe it is better that we go and challenge the leviathan ourselves, rather than perish in the desert.”

  Aikur shook his head. “The leviathan would make mincemeat of us without much effort,” he said. “But if we find the well, we will have an advantage.”

  “What advantage?” Finnigrel asked.

  “Just trust me,” Aikur said with a wink. “I will search the dunes. I should be able to find the well. The rest of you wait here for a while.” Aikur hiked and trekked around the dunes for another hour before he too finally became exhausted. He sat in the dirt at the base of a large dune and sighed.

  At that moment, a black beetle burrowed up out from the ground and bit Aikur’s left hand. He shook the insect away and cursed it, wishing it to leave him alone. The beetle laughed and jumped at him again, biting his stomach. Aikur jumped up, swatting at the beetle. The black bug opened its wings and started to fly around him, occasionally darting in and biting Aikur’s face and neck. Aikur, enraged by the insect’s behavior, chased it with his sword, swinging and slashing at it. The bug darted this way and that, leading him farther away from the group and up over a nearby dune. As soon as Aikur crested over the dune, the beetle dove down into the sand and burrowed out of the warrior’s reach.

  “Cursed pest!” Aikur shouted. He slid his sword back into its scabbard and then shook his head, looking around at the land before him. A smile stretched his dry and cracked lips when he saw a stone well sitting at the base of the dune surrounded by a patch of green grass and a large shrub. Aikur turned around and shouted for the men to catch up with him. They came running up over the dune and they all made their way to fill their water skins at the well.

  As they stood drinking from the well of Akoranth, an ifrit appeared over them, laughing and sneering down at them. The ifrit had the face of a man, topped with the horns of a goat. The body was like a man’s, but much larger and the skin was red, and the beast’s legs ended in a pair of cloven hooves that sparked when it walked upon the ground.

  “Who dares to steal my water?” the ifrit demanded. “I am the master of this desert, and you are trespassers here!”

  The warriors moved their hands to their weapons, ready to fight, but Aikur held out a hand to stay the men.

  “I know of his kind,” Aikur said. “Let me speak with him.”

  The ifrit produced a large staff in one hand, and a flaming sword in the other. “What price do you offer me for my life-sustaining water which you have stolen?” the demon asked.

  Aikur spied the ifrit’s flute of bone upon its hip, and he smiled. “I have a gift to offer you,” Aikur said. “Oh mighty spirit, we did not come to steal, but we knew of your generosity and kindness, for your fame has been spread far and wide across the desert.”

  The ifrit smiled at the praise, but did not altogether drop its guard. “What gift did you bring me?”

  Aikur stretched out his arms. “I have a song for you.”

  “A song?” the ifrit mocked. “I can play my own songs. I prefer blood. Offer me four of your men, and I will let the rest of you leave in peace.”

  Aikur shook his head. “My song is great, the likes of which you have never heard,” he said.

  The ifrit shook its head. “No, I am the best flute player in all of the sands.”

  Aikur pointed to the flute. “Then, I have a wager for you,” he said, for he knew how much ifrits loved bets. “Come and play your flute, and then I shall play. If my song is better than yours, then we all go free.”

  “And if mine is better than yours?” the ifrit asked with an arched brow.

  “Then you may have all of our heads,” Aikur assured him.

  The ifrit nodded enthusiastically and stuck out his hand. “Then it is decided. Let us play here and now.”

  Aikur shook his head. “No, let us go to the cliffs that overlook the sea. I promise my song will be so marvelous that it will cause the sea itself to dance for you.” Aikur could see the greedy desire in the ifrit’s eyes. The demon agreed to follow them all to the cliffs and then played his song for them. The flute sent out the most beautiful notes over the sea. Many of the warriors wrung their hands with worry, not believing that Aikur could play better.

  When the song finished, the ifrit smiled and handed the flute to Aikur. Aikur pulled the parchment from his pocket and played tune written thereon. The ifrit laughed at the melody’s simpl
icity and licked its lips with desire. The large ifrit moved in, eager to collect its reward. Suddenly the seas stirred and a great blue beast raised its head over the cliffs.

  The ifrit looked upon the leviathan and smoke billowed out from the demon’s nostrils. The ifrit cracked its whip, but the leviathan opened its fang-filled jaws and spewed water at the demon. Aikur and the others backed away from the beasts while the two of them battled mightily. The ifrit dodged two lightning fast strikes from the leviathan, and the large serpent took a punishing blow to the side from the ifrit’s fiery sword. A pair of scales fell from the leviathan and landed on the sand nearby.

  As the two monsters battled, Aikur nimbly dashed in and took the scales, somersaulting across the sand and dust as he narrowly avoided the ifrit’s flaming whip. He gently slid the scales into his backpack and then moved back to where the warriors stood watching the two great beasts fight. Aikur took a spear from one of the warriors with him and launched it at the ifrit’s leg. The spear pierced through the demon’s right hamstring and caused the mighty beast to stumble, thus affording the leviathan a perfect opening. The great sea snake struck down in one mighty blow and seized the ifrit in its mouth. It ripped the demon from the ground and pulled him into the sea below, coiling and squeezing the fiery demon as it disappeared into the depths.

  “It worked,” Finnigrel said. “That was amazing.”

  Aikur nodded his head. “The note says that the song is a call for the leviathan, one that Kyra used to play with her flute.” The mighty warrior shook the dust from his trousers and the group pressed on to the east.

  “We must go into Tanglewood Forest,” Aikur said. “There we shall find the third and final item for the quest. Afterword we will go to Tirnog, and purchase a ship from the elves there so we can sail to Mat’Jhar.”

  The group marched out from the desert and into the enchanted, elven forest. They knew better than to hunt game in the forest of the elves, for the elves that lived here forbade such activities to those not of elfish blood. However, they were able to pick berries and fruits from trees and bushes, which they knew were freely offered to all who passed through the forest.