Blood on the Horizon: Chapter One

Velok Nemi – Tribal Counselor and historian

Dear Journal, it has been five years since the great Cataclysm befell us. Many have lost hope and things continue to get worse. Monsters, more sinister and deadly than ever defile our animals and attack our hunting parties. There have been many casualties and the tribes grow restless as their food source is being destroyed and warriors are being slaughtered mercilessly. Whispers of war run rampant among us and we have not seen nor heard from our trade partners and closest allies, the Stars of Ixhotl in many moons.

 Warriors from across the land show up at our gates to pedal their goods and demand we give them our finest warriors to aid them in battle. These are fighting men, armed to the teeth in mail and plate, carrying weapons of terrifying powers, forged in the great fires of Arkland and cursed by Ramal Blood Magic. If we refuse, they threaten Marshall law and accuse us of treason against the crown.

 Arithar Vari, Chieftain of the Two Rivers Tribe and the most respected member of the tribal council has called a summons, beckoning all tribes come to the City on the Lake. In three days time, we gather. I am scared. These are dire times indeed. But we must be strong. Our magic is waning and if we are to survive, we must unite. I will write more after the summons.

……………

“Velok, get up!”

“Wha, whats…”

“Sh……..” my father put his hand to my mouth. “Grab your bow and lace some arrows with poison. We’re about to have company,” he whispered sharply.

 I sat up, slung my legs around the side of the bed and tiptoed over to the great oak and iron chest at the foot of my parent’s bed. The lid opened slowly without a creek. I grabbed the new bow I had carved from the ash tree outside our compound, slung it around my head, took my leather shoulder strap and quiver, buckled it to the third rung so it fit snug, and grabbed a handful of arrows.

 “Where’s the poison, damn you Arven.” My little brother was always messing with our stock, for the bottle was not in its place next to the arrows. I ran over to the cabinet, frantically searching. There it is, on its side, mostly spilled, the red contents had stained the wood. What a hell of a mess. I will clean it later. I ripped the lid off and shoved the tip of one of my arrows into the bottle. There was enough poison for 4 arrows.
“Damn, that will have to do,” I thought. Last priority, I took the curved blade from the display on our wall above the fire pit. It was a Minsheng sword father had been given for dragging a dying Minsheng warrior to safety the day our empires’ capital Kanagara was destroyed. Father hated me using it, but Minsheng blades stay sharp much longer than most.

 The door flew open. “Damn you Velok, hurry up.” Father was frantic. “The beast is upon us.”

We ran through the archway, past rows of log cabins, our feet thudding in the dirt as I tried to keep up. Father stopped.

“Come here son,” father gripped my arm firmly and stared at me with those deep wary green eyes. “Whatever happens, I am proud of you and the man you are becoming. And by the gods, if I don’t make it out of this alive, take care of your brother. Now hide.”

We dove behind the thicket and I turned my head back to see the most hideous beast I had ever come across. Could it be him, Helgoth the Maurader? I had heard tales of him from passing merchants, but we had always been told the tales were lies used to scare tribal children for the amusement of those who told the tales.

Hellgoth roared as tribesmen with axes and arrows pummeled him from all sides. He swung his arm in a circle next to the ground and cut the legs out from under a group of three, sending them to the dirt. Their screams of pain were deafening. Father leapt to his feet, and snuck around the back of the thicket. About twenty yards away in the direction father had run, was the tree I climbed since birth.

I ran for it and grabbed the first branch, hoisting my self up limb by limb. The creature roared behind me. After roughly thirty feet, I found a perch and planted myself firmly. Time to unleash hell. I didn’t have a clear shot. Helgoth was flailing about swinging his massive arms and pounding down fenceposts. I saw my friend Torveth get knocked to the ground, grabbing his right arm with a scowl. Finally Helgoth stopped as several tribesman pulled back to regroup for the next round.

Finally, my chance came………. Direct hit, right in the back of the head. Helgoth swung around toward my position and stomped over, ground shaking as he came. I fired off another one. This time it grazed his right eye. And he grabbed his face to check for blood. Arm outstretched in a fist, he ran at me. I had to jump. The next tree was too far, but I had no choice. I got to my feet, readied and jumped just as Hellgoth’s fist splintered the tree bark just behind where my head had been. Panicked, I reached with everything I could muster, bow stretched as high above me in an arc as I could reach, hoping miraculously to grab a branch. It caught wood just barely and I slid down with the bow sliding against the top of a thick branch. Frustrated, the beast began to sniff. I hit the tree, abandoned the bow and climbed as high as I could.

The creature rumbled over to me, sniffing around the tree. The greenage was much thicker, so I had some cover. I unsheathed the knives from my left boot, taking the ivory grips firmly in my hand. His head was 10 foot below me, I went for it and landed on Hellgoths head, grabbing his ears and plunging the knives in the back of his head anywhere they could go. He whipped around frantically, trying to slingshot me off. I lost my grip, and began to fall back. As I did, i felt the hilt of father’s Minsheng blade against my hand, unsheathed and plunge it into the side of Hellgoths head just below the ear in a final attempt to prevent my fall. The beast roared and grabbed for me. As he did, I felt the air from an axe zip past my head. Father’s axe struck Hellgoth right in the forehead. Stumbling, Hellgoth fell forward, hitting the ground hard and sending me sprawling.

I woke up, head pounding, blood trickling down the side of my face, tribesman covered in dirt and blood standing over me. Was I dead? My head hurt so bad I could barely see straight. Father stuck his hand out grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, bracing me as I stood. “Well done boy. You saved our arses. I thought you were dead. Don’t scare me like that.”

I looked around at the battered crew. Arvil, Menkin, Jace, Torveth, Father, Hamus, all with blood and dirt on their skins. Torveth was sitting gingerly nursing a bloodied and bandaged left leg. There was also a big cut in his axe arm, where a tattoo of his grand dames name had been etched.

“Where are the others?”

“Dead, im afraid,” said father. “What matters is that the beast didn’t get to our town and no one else was harmed. They fought and died valiantly. Do not mourn them. Our shaman shall raise a fire to them tonight.”
I turned and saw the beast was gone. And Fathers relic sword. He’s going to kill me.

“What the bloody hell happened?”

“We don’t know,” said Torveth. “There was a cloud of dust gathering around him and he just disappeared like that.”

“Magic,” I uttered under my breath.

That night in the tavern, it was decided that, being the hero of the days encounter and being that Havith, our scout and warden had his head smashed in, I was to represent our tribe in 3 days at the gathering. After all, I am 16 and just proved myself in battle, which means I do not have to participate in the blood and survival trials, as is generally our custom.