by Umut Ersezer
He risked another throw, this time a bigger stone, a louder sound. The guard was now agitated, he raised his spear, edging closer to the noise. His eyes were straining to see through the dense growth with the limited visibly under the moon’s light.
Volare threw again, causing the guard to quicken his steps, he was now keen to investigate the disturbance. It gave Volare a chance to sneak by, he crept as quickly and quietly as he could. Not too far now, he thought.
On he went, ascending to the ridgeline, he found a small flat platform to rest and lie down on. He removed his rucksack and placed it on the rock platform. On his stomach, he crawled his way to the edge of the platform where he could overlook the camp.
He was so close now. He dared to take a peek, only exposing his head and eyes beyond the lip of the rocky platform. He was high enough for the guards to not notice any movement in their peripheral vision.
Wagons were hitched to huge lumbering crags. These beasts had been domesticated centuries ago back in the human homeland of Ozos which existed on another continent to the east of Kragea. King Hastam sought to explore new lands with his fleet of ships and in doing so, discovered and conquered the eshin in Dritura some twenty or so years ago.
The sandy textured and coloured crags were asleep with a rhythmic and oddly calming snore. They had six sturdy short stubby legs, each with sharp claws to scratch and grip the ground. Their body was soft, fat and tubular, making them seem slow-moving. Crags were as tall as humans and equally wide, giving them the appearance of a worm, about the length of two men.
When encouraged with some prodding, they could run significantly faster than any man, had the endurance of a warhorse and a stampede of them were deadly. They lacked a clear definition of a neck; instead, their bodies morphed into a head that had an extended snout with a circular mouth, lined with hard square teeth to grind foliage. Their eyes were beady, small and dark, allowing for satisfactory day vision but deficient in the night.
There were so many of them, each one had two wagons hitched in series to them. Each wagon carried a dozen men and women in their cage to the rear. It was horrific, a sight which Volare was not ready for.
His stomach twisted into knots at the idea of his father being down there, locked in one of these cages. He felt a sense of despair. The scene stretched out for at least 200 metres ahead of him. He could see larger tents erected in the distance with guards at their openings. No doubt Trajan was in one of them. What will they do with all of these people? wondered Volare.
There were two guards directly below him sitting by a campfire, whispering in hushed tones. Volare willed his ears to listen, trying to make out what they were saying.
“I can’t believe we’ve got so many of these poor sods,” whispered one soldier to another.
“They’re planning a big move with this I’m tellin ya.”
“Are they gonna send’em all into the fight? They can’t, they’ll be chopped into pieces in seconds. They jus gonna get in our way.”
“I heard the idea is that they get in THEIR way, not ours.”
“By the gods, I heard about this tactic, its madness. Why can’t we just train them up to fight?”
One soldier leaned in closer to the other “We are gonna train’em up, the strong ones that is, but the weak ones…they’ll becomes slaves probably.”
“If we don’t win this, there ain’t gonna be anything left for anyone living anyway. So be it.”
“Wher’we takin these sods?” one soldier asked the other. Volare dared to edge just a little closer to make sure he heard.
“We’ll get our orders in the mornin’ I suppose, but they’ll be spread along the western front in the battle encampments, garrisons and strongholds. Share the love, you know,” they chuckled to themselves.
Volare’s hopes sank, his father could be taken anywhere and not knowing where his father was in the camp, he couldn’t follow. Blast! Volare thought.
“Hey u’seen these things we fightin?”
“Nah mate, I’ve only been deployed this week. First duty was to round up some people. My next stop will be the front lines I suppose, after we get these sods there.”
“Yeah same, but I’ve heard stories and let me tell ya, we ain’t fightin no eshin or dwarves. It’s somethin else.”
“I don’t pay much attention to it, whatever it is we’ll deal with it. We always have, humans have forever had the measure of the other lifelings. The stories are always worse than what things actually are, it’s just the higher soldiers tryin’ta scare the life outta the newbies.”
“I hope you’re right mate, I’ve heard they call’em darkspawn on the front, kos they only come at night, hordes of them.”
“Lucky we got some more recruits then hey,” chuckled the solider.
“C’mon, let’s get some sleep, it’s gonna be a long walk tomorrow.”
Volare pulled back and lay flat on his back on the rocky platform. He was deflated with what he had heard. What are darkspawn? And what will become of father? He can’t be a slave, a decoy, no, thought Volare. But his father wasn’t a soldier either. Will they train him? Maybe he will fight, win the war and come back?
He was so tired, the urge to sleep was consuming him, his mind and muscles ached with what he had heard and seen. He looked around the platform, searching for a more sheltered spot.
He couldn’t risk being found, he needed somewhere more hidden to spend the night. He picked up his sack and sneaked further along the ridge, looking for some kind of structure that would block any view to him. He found a small opening in a rock wall, hidden amongst fallen branches and bush.
There was enough space to crawl into it and spend the night, less than luxurious, but it will do. He swept aside the branches and pushed his way through, trying to be careful with the sound he was making. It was so dark, the moons shine couldn’t penetrate the deep black of the cave that lay ahead of him. He would only need to stay at the mouth of it, no need to venture deeper.
He set his rucksack down, ready to unpack his sleeping roll when he heard a stick breaking behind him. Volare reeled around and stared intently into the night, trying to find the source of the sound.
“Who goes there!” came a shout, a guard.
Volare’s heart began to race, he had been heard. No! Volare thought.
The guard was heading in his direction, he would be seen if he tried to run for it. He had no choice, Volare backed deeper into the blackness of the cave where he would be hidden. The guard came into Volare’s sight, he had seen the cave.
Volare hadn’t had the chance to cover the entrance to conceal it. The guard’s curiosity grew, he stepped closer to the cave, pausing, considering what could be in there. Volare was invisible in the enveloping darkness as long as he stayed still. The guard unhooked a torch stick from his belt, knelt and struck it with flint.
The torch caught alight, flooding the platform in contorting glows of yellow and orange. Volare’s heart was racing, he didn’t know what to do, there was no choice but creep further into the cave.
He kept taking steps back, matching the steps of the guard to muffle the sound of his own. A slip. Volare’s heel now hanging in space, there was no more cave behind him, only an abyss of darkness below him. He tried to regain his balance waving his arms around, but the weight of his rucksack was pulling him backward, he couldn’t correct himself. His footing loosening, finally giving way.
Volare fell, down he went falling into nothingness. He hit rock, bouncing off it and rolling down a sloped tunnel that funnelled him deeper as he rolled and tumbled, crashing every part of his body against the rocks. He couldn’t protect himself for he couldn’t see a thing, he just braced himself during the onslaught, feeling his rucksack go free and fall alongside him.
He finally hit the cave bottom with a hard thud. He lay there motionless, mentally checking himself for injuries, he didn’t dare move, fearful of even the thought of accepting what had just happened.
He just lay there, listenin
g to the sounds around him, there were none. No light either, the lack of sensory stimulation was unnerving. All he could hear was his breath and heartbeat.
He slowly pulled himself up into a seated position, checking over his body with his hands. He could now tell he had some cuts which stung and bumps that throbbed, particularly on his head.
He blindly felt around the ground, there was nothing there, just sandy damp soil and some small rocks and stones. He needed his rucksack where he knew he had some flint.
He crawled around the ground, feeling his way through the small cavern, no noticeable features aside from some sticks and branches, no doubt having been washed in during storms.
Will I drown or will I starve in here? Volare thought despairingly. His search for the rucksack grew more frantic, please let it be here he thought. Finally!
Volare ripped open the sack and rummaged through its contents, feeling his way to find the flint. Got it! He picked up a rock in his other hand and struck the flint, the sparks providing the briefest moment of sight into the blackness. I need something to burn, he thought. He felt his way around and collected twigs and branches, lighting them with his flint.
A fire roared into life with a crackle and illuminated his world. There was nothing, no exits, just cold grey stone walls around and above him. Volare noticed strange markings on the walls, shapes he had never seen before. Various patterns were carved into the stones directly. The carvings were so neat and straight as if cut using specialised equipment with a skilled hand.
They stretched all around the cavern, with one wall being covered in symbols, carved straight into the stone. Maybe it’s writing, but what does it mean? Volare pondered as he ran his hand over the markings, feeling the indentations with his fingers.
He was losing himself in the puzzling nature of what lay before him, but he didn’t have time to figure out what these strange symbols and carvings were, he would need to climb his way out to escape.
Volare moved away from the walls and placed his flint back into his sack, he needed to get out while the fire burned bright. It was his only chance to climb with the aid of light, and there wasn’t much more kindling around.
He looked up the rock face where he fell from, noticing for the first time just how lucky he was to not be seriously injured. He set off, carefully placing one hand above the other, using his legs to lift his body, just like he had shown Amet back in the village when teaching him how to climb the surrounding trees to harvest cottleberries to snack on. He missed those days so dearly; he and his brother could play all afternoon without worrying about quotas or collectors coming. It was so much simpler, even he would smile and laugh alongside Amet. But now here I am trapped in a blasted cave, Volare thought, feeling sorry for himself.
He climbed, but the higher he got, the steeper the rock face was, even jutting out into the air in some places. He would slip, barely recovering his hold as they too became smaller the more he ascended. In the end, no matter how hard he tried, no matter which path he went up the rock face, it got to a point in which it was too steep with nothing to hold onto.
It required a jump to reach the next handhold. Volare steeled himself, praying to the gods they would help guide his fingers to grip the hold he had his eye on. With a thrust of his legs, he leaped, his feet barely gaining traction on the footholds, straight up into the air.
He reached with his arms, stretching until he felt like his shoulders would pop out from their sockets. He wasn’t even close. He missed the hold and came crashing back to the ground hard. His body ached. He lay there, defeated. Tears building in his eyes, he felt utter misery at the thought of dying in this cave.
His family would never know what happened to him. No one would find him here. His body would be eaten by the earth and disappear forever. With tears now streaming down his face, he didn’t move, he just lay there on his side crying. What have I done? he thought in resignation.
In front of him was a small object, just the top jutting out from the soil. It gave off a slight gleam as it dully reflected the light of the fire. He sat up and reached out, taking hold and pulling it out of the dirt. It was a square piece of black metal with rounded corners.
It fit in his palm so he could curl his fingers around it. Volare blew on it, then rubbed it against his navy button-up coat to bring the shine back to the metal. It had the same type of carvings that the walls carried. What is this thing? Volare thought as he spun it around with his fingers, inspecting all sides of the flattened cube object.
He curled his fingers around it once more, gripping tightly, it felt oddly satisfying, warm even. Yes, it was definitely much warmer than the air around him. He could feel the heat from the metal moving its way up his arm and into his body. How strange, Volare thought while wiping the tears from his face.
At that moment the fire flickered to the end of its life, with only embers remaining at its heart. Volare felt the full burden of his exhaustion flood him. He found his rucksack and pulled out his sleeping roll, tucked himself in and gave in to the relentless urge of his aching brain to rest.
Without thinking about it, he never let go of the object. He had curled up into his bedroll, still holding it tightly. It filled him with warmth and Volare would sleep with it held in his palm, it felt right. He finally acknowledged the weight of his eyelids by lowering them to cover his eyes, drifting quickly into sleep. Whatever problems facing Volare now, would be there for him tomorrow, he would deal with them then.
** Chapter 7 **
The Creation
12,800 years ago
High above the ground, at the edges of the atmosphere, a rift in space opened. A circular portal of undulating energy pouring out from within it. Deep hues of blue and purple light colouring the air and clouds around it. Three veleon dragon riders, known as Koralinth Huma the strongest of them, Gandizar Eshi, the one most connected to life and Veera Davar the builder of civilizations, flew out through the portal.
Their intent was to traverse the cosmos and find a new planet in which to seed intelligent life. Successfully exiting the portal, the dragon riders circled high above a land, which would become known as Kragea. Their massive dragons stretching their wings to soar amongst the wind currents.
“He continues to spread his armies, we can only seem to slow him,” said Koralinth to the other two with a raised voice to overcome the wind.
“Fighting is not enough. We must create life in the face of destruction, create armies to push him back. We will fight destruction with creation,” said Gandizar.
“Will it be enough?” asked Veera.
“Only time will tell” replied Gandizar.
“We will succeed, we have to. Fly out to your lands, we must begin,” instructed Koralinth.
The three riders were clad in their traditional full-bodied dark metal alloy armour, studded with power gems and a small square-shaped metal artefact embedded in the centre of their breastplates.
They commanded their dragons to fly at greater speeds, scanning the horizon and seeking lands where new life could be established. Koralinth headed to the east, his land would be known as Ozos. Gandizar stayed near to the portal, a land in which would become known as Dritura. Veera flew her dragon to the west, where the land would become known as Nni.
The three veleon dragon riders harnessed their godly powers to transform their lands. They created lakes and rivers, seeding precious metals and gems of power to grow and be dug out by their creations. The veleon also created their lifelong partners, to fill the lands with their children.
The veleon continued to guide their lifeling creations on a path of growth, teaching how to not only survive but to thrive. They would need to grow strong, like all other veleon creations in the cosmos, if they were to stand a chance in the great cosmic war.
**
As the centuries passed, the veleon’s lifelings spread their civilizations across the lands, growing ever more confident in their manipulation of nature. They erected great cities of stone and metal,
developed schools of science and philosophy to create artefacts and technologies of power.
They co-existed peacefully, trading ideas and resources, all while the godlike veleon kept a watchful eye, only interfering in the rarest of occasions to set their children on a pathway of realisation. So distant was their interaction now, that the stories of creation and the understanding of the dragon riders once common knowledge and fact, evolved into myth and legend. Great religious monuments were constructed to worship the gods, to never forget them. For thousands of years, the world was at peace.
**
The veleon left their children, to re-join the war with their brethren and return to the fight. Mirardos continued to spread his power and influence as he rampaged through the cosmos, on his quest for universal domination.
All who stood against him would fall, all but the collective might of the veleon. But the universe was unfathomably large and veleon numbers too little. It would be their children that must take up arms, use the power given to them by their gods and defend their lands, for the veleon could not do it for them. Even the veleon, however, could not know all that would come to pass. They could not know their attempts to terraform the land to suit their needs would leave the planet unstable.
During the creation years, great fissures in the crust had formed. Within these fissures, tremendous energy was being stored, amassing the stresses of the planet, waiting to be released when it became too much.
Great earthquakes, cataclysmic volcanic activity and floods were unleashed in a destructive fury the world had never seen. There were consequences for the unnatural manipulation of nature, consequences that would only seem obvious far into the future. No one would know the cause of the destructions, only its effects.
