by Ivan Hladni
VEDIENTIR
Book One
of
the Trees of Man
Ivan Hladni
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Ivan Hladni
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Snježana Hladni
Map by Ivan Hladni
www.trees-of-man.com
[email protected]
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Chapter 1 - Escape from Loi Rei
Chapter 2 - The Fall of Echa Rei
Chapter 3 - The Siege of Echa
Chapter 4 - Family Affairs
Chapter 5 - Escape from Echa
Chapter 6 - River Mara
Chapter 7 - Night in Inner Mara
Chapter 8 - The Rivers of Aquia
Chapter 9 - Zmai
Chapter 10 - The King
Chapter 11 - Respite
Chapter 12 - Westward
Chapter 13 - Road to Phares
Chapter 14 - Eya
Chapter 15 - Edge of the World
Chapter 16 - Vedientir
Chapter 17 - To Syevnor
Chapter 18 - The Gathering
Chapter 19 - Homeward Bound
Chapter 20 - The Camp
Chapter 21 - Rising from the Ashes
Chapter 22 - The People
Chapter 23 - Sons of War
Chapter 24 - Daedar
Appendix A - People
Appendix B - Places
Appendix C - The Old language
To my father, Krunoslav
Chapter 1 - Escape from Loi Rei
There was still some time left before sunset when Dion sat down on the felled trunk protruding from the river island's side far into the stream. He cast the line into the stream, next to the trunk, hoping to catch the fish hiding in the submerged branches.
His grandmother had sent him to catch several for supper, so he went to his favorite location - the island that cleaved the river Loi, which flowed on the northern edge of the village. The eastern tip of the island pointed towards the Divider - the border bridge between two kingdoms. It was the only place on the island not entirely covered by trees.
He missed a bite, so he pulled the line out to put fresh bait on the hook, and cast his line again, almost to the same exact spot, alongside the trunk and towards the bridge. He closed his eyes and savored the silence of late afternoon as he waited for the fish to bite.
Suddenly, the neighing of a horse disrupted the silence. Dion opened his eyes, jolted out of his daydreaming. It appeared as if the sound was coming from the south, but looking in that direction he saw only a few villagers finishing up chores in their gardens. There were no horses on the road or any other movement in the forest beyond the village.
Seeing nothing interesting, he turned his attention back to the fishing line, tugged it a bit to see if he had something hooked, and since there was nothing, he left it alone. The float then moved ever so slightly, and a moment later it jumped out of the water. His eyes were now wide open and focused on the float.
"Bite just one more time," he willed the fish and scratched his thin beard. "Come on."
The float disappeared beneath the surface, and Dion pulled. The fishing pole bent and trembled in his hand as the hooked fish started pulling in all directions trying to get free.
The fish quickly tried for the submerged branches, and they both knew that if it reached them that it would win this duel. Every time the fish went towards the branches, Dion pulled it towards the bank. The fish grew tired quickly, and each time Dion pulled, he managed to bring it closer to the bank.
But then his arm relented and the fish backed away a bit. He noticed that something was happening on the bridge. Two border guards were standing in front of their small wooden watchtower looking southward. One was poking the other in the ribs with one hand, and pointing down the road with the other. Looking once more in that direction, Dion finally saw what he had heard earlier - horses.
The horses moved slowly, two in a row. Even from this distance Dion recognized the flag carried by the horsemen. It was the flag of Irion, the allied kingdom with which the kingdom of Aelan shared this river border. The villagers who found themselves on the road when the soldiers came stopped what they were doing and were watching the procession pass them by. Dion could count several dozen horses, and a large column of infantry behind them.
"What day is it today?" Dion asked himself, looking at the army that stood in front of the bridge. He saw two men dismount and go towards the border guards with open arms and loud greetings.
"Yes, yes," Dion continued to himself, tugging the line to check if the fish was still hooked.
"Tomorrow's the end of war celebration in Echa."
Dion's curiosity regarding the newcomers faded and a silent resentment slid in its place as he watched the border guards and the soldiers exchange pleasantries and pat each other on the shoulders.
"Now, when everything is over, you bring your army to celebrate the end of a war you didn't even fight in. Great allies, no doubt."
The noises from the village grew so loud that he could hear them clearly on the island. The entire village was on their feet. A lot of people came to the bridge, drawn to the crowd. Finally, the two soldiers who had been talking with the border guards mounted their horses and signaled the others to move forward. They continued across the bridge, moving between the more inquisitive ones and the children who were crowding around the army and trying to touch the horses.
Having seen enough, he returned to his fishing. He pulled the tired fish out of the water with ease, and was pulling the hook out of its mouth when he heard a loud blare of a horn. Startled, he tore the hook from the fish's mouth, and the fish fell from his hands into the shallow water in front of his feet. The fish didn't waste any time, and after two or three swings it disappeared back into the river.
The man at the front of the column was the one blowing the horn. A group of men behind him broke formation, unsheathed their swords and started pouring from the bridge into the northern part of the village. The rest turned on the people standing beside them on the bridge. Their swords flew through the air and minded no age.
The shock froze him in place as he watched the bodies of the villagers roll over the side of the bridge into the river below. He felt as if all the heat disappeared from his body. He stood there as still as the root of a dead tree. Fear and despair got the best of him and in all that turmoil no one heard him scream.
A few moments later he regained control over his body. His knees buckled, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. He straightened up, and in two jumps he was over the felled trunk and next to his boat.
He pushed the boat into the river, jumped into it and hardly sat down before he started paddling. He paddled against the current, but he barely noticed it. He had to get away from the bridge so they wouldn't notice him.
"Grandmother and grandfather are the only ones who matter now. Save them."
He paddled towards the southern bank of the river, towards the part of the village where his grandparents lived. A few villagers were there on the bank in front of him and they looked completely lost. Some had already jumped into the river, those with cooler heads were getting into their boats, and some just stood frozen in their gardens.
Each stroke brought him closer to the shore, and the sounds that were now reaching him from the distance were encouraging because they weren't only moans and cries. He heard sounds of fighting.<
br />
Paying no heed to the boat he slammed it into the shore and despite the numerous "Save yourself!" and "Run!" cries of the people that ran for the river, he grabbed the paddle and jumped ashore. He climbed over the low muddy bank, ran through his neighbor's corn field, then through the garden, and finally jumped over a shabby wooden fence. He found himself on a path between the houses which led towards the village center.
He didn't have much time.
"I need to reach my grandparents as soon as possible. It will take a lot of time to get back here to the boat."
As he hurtled toward the village center he could hear metal clashing into metal, horses neighing, and men shouting, but several houses still blocked his view of what was really going on there.
A bloodstained horse without a rider appeared in front of him and quickly disappeared between the houses to his left. When the noise of its hooves died down, he discerned a couple of voices coming from the village square. They were calling out for his grandfather. Dion pulled off the path and put his back against the last house that stood between him and the village square.
"Daedar!" a man's shout came from the square.
"On your left!"
At that moment Dion's head emerged from behind the house and his eyes fell upon six men in the square. He saw Daedar and five others crouching behind the village well, hiding from the enemy. They noticed him instantly.
Daedar spent the entire moment he had to spare looking straight into his grandson's eyes. Daedar's dark eyes arched by gray eyebrows were beset by worry.
"Go and fetch the chest underneath the..." Daedar shouted to Dion, but he never heard the end of the sentence. It was drowned by the cries of the approaching enemy.
To Dion's surprise, Kerkio, his grandfather's guest, had a bow. He fired an arrow and soon after there was a sound of a body hitting the ground. He then threw away the bow and grabbed a scythe that was at his feet.
Suddenly, four men ran past the house Dion was hiding behind. They were headed straight for Daedar, but they never reached him. The scythe flew through the air and went through two of them as it would through soft grass, and then got hold of the third one. The fourth tried to avoid his imminent fate, but failed. The scythe's heel hit him perfectly in the throat and sent him to the ground. The lack of air sent him soon thereafter into the realm of ghosts.
More men came rushing towards the well, but one stopped at the edge of the house, and looked to his right. Only for a moment it looked as though he didn't notice Dion, but that moment quickly passed.
"There's one more!" the soldier from Irion shouted back in the direction from which he came, his arm pointing towards Dion.
Dion's first thought was to hide, but he knew immediately that he neither could nor should. He gripped the paddle tightly with both hands, and stepped into the open. The soldier shouted and rushed towards him, holding a sword with both hands above his head, ready to strike Dion down.
Dion crouched slightly, put his left leg forward, and set the tip of the paddle on the ground behind him, along his right leg. He took a deep breath and clenched the paddle with both hands so hard that he felt every fiber of its coarse wood. The sword was coming at him, and then, when the moment was just right, Dion moved. The paddle connected with the head, the head connected with the wall of the house. The helmet that should have protected it flew away towards the sky like a bird and then crashed to the ground next to the soldier.
Dion moved forward next to the house but stopped at its edge to catch his breath. Another group of soldiers went by without noticing him. He glanced behind them to see if there were any more coming, and there were, but they were far away enough. Dion stepped into the square and ran for the group that went past him, still armed with the paddle.
One of the soldiers noticed something was awry, and was about to turn, but never managed to see what was coming his way. Dion landed the paddle right in the middle of his helmet and the force of the strike took Dion down to the ground as well.
He tried to pick himself up when he felt two arms grab and pull him backwards, and then both Kerkio and Daedar went in front of him.
Kerkio's scythe was broken but the soldiers were still coming towards them. He grabbed and tore off the blade from the shaft, threw it into the mass of men coming towards them from the road and the blade riveted two together.
Kerkio broke off the handles and was left with a plain staff. He assumed a defensive position in front of Daedar who knelt behind him and got something from his pocket. He cupped his hands, brought them closer to his mouth and started speaking into them.
A sound came from his cupped hands, a crack similar to a dry branch being stepped on, and then a red light burst out between his fingers.
"Help us escape," Daedar said into his hands, opened them, and laid what was in them onto the ground. He got up and moved away from the red light and then the ground started to shake and crack. A pillar of earth rose from the ground, and when it reached the height of a man, it assumed a similar shape.
"Earth elemental!" shouted Dion with surprise, recognizing the creature from the books.
Daedar grabbed Kerkio by the shoulder, as he himself turned and started backing away from the creature. "Come on. It's time to leave."
Dion looked in amazement at the creature as it took the staff from Kerkio's hands and moved to intercept the soldiers, but then he realized he was even more astounded by his grandfather.
"Grandfather, how did you..." started Dion, but was interrupted.
"Later!" Daedar replied instantly.
"We have to be quick, the elemental won't keep them busy forever," he continued, grabbed Dion by the arm and began dragging him away from the village center.
"We've stayed here longer than we should have," finished Daedar when Kerkio stopped to pick up the bow.
They passed a couple of houses and Daedar glanced back to see what was happening when the winding road was about to take them around a corner. A couple of men were beneath the elemental's feet and the rest didn't look too keen to take it on and were retreating slowly.
Daedar sighed with relief.
"I am glad that slowed them down."
"What do you want us to do now?" asked Kerkio.
"You get the people to safety. The woods on the other bank are thick enough to hinder horses, and the foot soldiers couldn't have gone that far already. Hopefully the night will guard you better than swords."
Kerkio nodded at first, but then continued, "The people? I'm not going without..."
"Yes, yes, I know," interrupted Daedar. "We'll come after you as soon as we possibly can. Dion and I have to stop by the house to pick up a few items first."
"Hurry up!" Kerkio stared straight into the old man's eyes when he said it and got a nod in return.
They hurried past worried faces of their neighbors who darted here and there, shushed their children, and struggled with what tiny pieces of belongings they had managed to hastily throw over their shoulders.
"What are you doing?" shouted Daedar at the villagers.
"Drop everything! Just grab the..."
He lost his breath.
"...children and go!"
Dion stopped, bent and grabbed his knees to catch breath, but Daedar continued running.
Daedar kept running, but Dion stopped for a moment.
"Go to the river", Dion told the villagers who stopped by his side when he noticed them looking toward the village center.
"Everyone should go across the river. Grandfather says it's the best way out."
"Ey, Daedar!" Dion then heard an old woman's voice in the distance and noticed just then how much he fell behind Daedar.
The woman was standing on a small wooden porch and looked as gnarly and bent as the walking stick she was holding onto. She waited patiently for Daedar to approach her house.
"Mia, you cannot stay here. Come."
She laughed.
"This is my house. I'm not going anywhere."
"But the village is lo
st. The pillagers will be here in no time."
She said nothing more.
"We must go now, but we'll come back for you. Ready yourself," he finished when Dion caught up with him.
They quickly passed by Mia's garden and finally reached their destination.
"Letha!" shouted Daedar pushing the door aside. Dion followed him into the house shouting as well.
"Grandma!"
The house was dark and silent, and a weak fire struggled in the fireplace. Dion went straight towards it and threw a log onto the fire. He then went right into the guest room that he loved to use whenever he was visiting his grandparents. Daedar went left and up the stairs.
"She's not in my room!" Dion shouted as he returned from the room into the kitchen.
"She's not upstairs either," replied Daedar returning only halfway downstairs.
"Find some..." Daedar stopped almost as soon as he started speaking, seeing that Dion wasn't listening.
"No. No. No," Dion repeated in a worried voice as he looked around the house.
"Dion, listen to me," Daedar said in a stern voice. This time Dion listened.
"Don't worry about your grandmother. She can take care of herself, believe me. Now find some ink and paper. Leave her a message. Tell her to head for the Shallows and after that to Echa Rei, if she can. Then take my sword down from the wall and wait for me at the front door. I'll be down in a moment."
Daedar went back upstairs and the wooden ceiling began groaning above Dion's head.
Dion went searching for something to write with. He found some paper in a large chest beneath the staircase - two small scrolls, and a large one. On the bottom of the chest was a half empty ink bottle, but he saw no quill or anything else that would prove useful.
He snatched the ink and the largest scroll, went to the kitchen table, placed the scroll on it, unfurled it and poured the entire content of the bottle onto the table, next to the scroll. He dabbed his index finger into the ink and started writing. It went slowly, and the writing was hard to read, but finally the message said:
