King Of The North (Book 3) (10 page)

The priests watched as the nightmare horse shuddered and squirmed, its black, glistening blood flowing thickly from its stumps. Behind it, the Enkhatar slowly rose, turning its terrifying head to glare at them with its fiery gaze. Turning to face them, the Enkhatar raised its axe into the air, holding it with both of its gauntleted hands. It growled furiously, twisting its hands along the axe's handle. The double-bladed weapon split down the middle, becoming two battle axes, just as fierce and terrible to behold as the original weapon.

With a howl of rage, the Enkhatar charged again. Its two axes chopped down in rapid succession, causing the priests to jump back. They dodged the blades as the Enkhatar struck from side to side, becoming a wall of blades as it passed. Khalid struck first, his blade bouncing off the blackened armor like a twig off of stone.

Dael flanked the creature, looking for any weaknesses the Enkhatar may have. He saw that the spaces between its plates revealed black chain underneath. Hoping it was weaker than the plate, Dael spun forward, lashing out with a thrusting attack. His katana connected, sparking as metal struck metal, and he felt the chain give way.

The Enkhatar howled with rage, immediately unleashing a back handed attack. Dael ducked and rolled to the other flank, repeating his attack on the other side. His katana sliced into the chain mail again, forcing the Enkhatar to its knees.

"Attack the joints!" he yelled. "The chain is weaker!"

Khalid charged, dodging a devastating downward chop, and jabbing his scimitar underneath the creature's arm. The Enkhatar let loose a screech and dropped its axes to the ground. Dael charged, rearing back his sword for a double-handed, horizontal slash at the creature's neck. Khalid rounded the kneeling Enkhatar to face its front.

Dael's sword connected, causing the creature's head to snap back, exposing the opening under its mask. Khalid crossed his scimitars and forced them into the gap, his teeth gritting in rage. The Enkhatar swung its left arm, pounding Khalid in the waist and knocking him away.

Dael backed away as the creature stood and turned to face him. He felt the creature's eyes upon him, as if they burned his soul. The Enkhatar retrieved its axes, calmly walking past the stunned priests to its horse. With a single chop, he beheaded the beast and disappeared into the alleyway.

Dael ran to Khalid, who remained prone where he had landed. The other priests watched in horror as the headless horse transformed back into its original form. Though dead and scarred, the work horse it once was retained its noble look; majestic and muscular.

"Khalid," Dael said, shaking the High Priest's shoulder. Khalid turned his head to look up at his friend.

"I'll be alright," he said. "Where did the Enkhatar go?"

"It walked away," Dael replied. "It is beyond our skill, I believe."

Khalid sat up, taking Dael's offered hand to rise to his feet. The townspeople began to return, gathering again in the town square. Khalid faced them, seeing the joy in their eyes.

"You are free," he said. "And we welcome you at Tel Drakkar. Rebuild your monuments and return to The Dragon. He will protect you all."

A dark hooded man walked out of the crowd, approaching Khalid, lowering his hood. "We thank you," he said. "And the Thieves' Guild thanks you once again, Khalid."

"Do I know you, sir?" Khalid asked.

"We have never met," the thief replied. "But Angus has told the guild what you did in Gaellos."

Khalid smiled, remembering the smith that had assisted him in freeing the children from the Jindala cages. "How is Angus?" he asked.

"He fights alongside the Onyx Dragon's army. They are stationed outside of Gaellos and waiting for the Prince's orders to march on Faerbane."

"What do you know of the Enkhatar?" Khalid asked. "Why was this one here?"

The thief shook his head. "I do not know, Khalid," he replied. "It is my understanding that
The Lifegiver sent them here to retrieve certain weapons, most of which are in the possession of the Knights of The Dragon. I know of no weapons here that they would be interested in."

"If you serve
The Dragon, then find out what you can. Research your town's history, ask the local nobles, anything you can do to find some answers. I will return when I can."

"The Guild does indeed serve
The Dragon," the thief replied, smiling slyly. "Just as you served Imbra when you were a thief."

Khalid laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder. "See," he said. "Your investigative skills are worthy of finding out anything."

"I will find out what I can and relay the message to you."

"I have no idea where I will be," Khalid said.

"We will find you," the thief said, turning to disappear into the crowd.

Khalid had no doubt the thief's words rang true.

Chapter Nine

The Tribe of the Elk made their home in an old quarry, where they had built their mead hall from leftover stone, mammoth tusks, and large leather pelts. Around the structure were individual huts, fire pits, and a large forge. Farouk was impressed with the bustle of activity, and the neatness of the camp. The ground had been scraped of all snow and ice, and the walls of the quarry had been built up with wind blockers to keep the cold from building up.

The whole camp was cozy, secure and full of life; it was unlike anything the Druid had seen before. Those that scurried around were dressed in furs, leathers, and other naturally obtained garments. There were those who were clearly warriors, but they, too, helped with the everyday activities. Everyone seemed to work together in harmony, and with equal responsibility.

"These are my people," Silka said. "We are hunters and gatherers, and we all work together to survive and thrive."

"Very impressive," Farouk commented as they entered the quarry.

"Don't worry," she added. "You will be welcomed. My tribe is very attuned with the land, and we have respect for all of those who follow the ways of the Great Mother."

"That is good to know," Farouk replied, smiling.

A large man approached as they neared the central fire pit to warm their hands. He was dressed in white furs, and brown leather, and bore an ornate headdress that was decorated with the antlers of several different types of deer.

"Welcome back, Silka," he said, eyeing Farouk and bending down to pet Fenris. "Who have you brought with you?"

"This is Farouk," she introduced them. "He serves the Great Mother."

"Welcome, Farouk," the man greeted him, extending his hand. "I am Bjorn, Chieftain of this tribe."

Farouk took the man's hand, finding it odd that his ancestry had not been questioned.

"Farouk was attacked by Asvelt," Silka told him.

"Asvelt?" Bjorn repeated, clearly confused.

"He was out last night," Silka explained. "This is the third time this month. The cycles are getting more and more confused." She turned to Farouk. "Since Kronos disappeared, strange things have been happening. Only the Jotun would know why, but they cannot be reached."

"Or trusted," Bjorn added. "I wouldn't trust them with my dog, much less my life. But, where are my manners? Farouk, please join us in the long house. You look exhausted, and thirsty."

"I am," Farouk replied. "Thank you. And may I say whatever that is I smell is making me very hungry."

Bjorn chuckled, clapping Farouk on the back. "Then you will feast with us," he exclaimed. "We have enough mammoth for everyone."

Farouk had never tasted mammoth, but he had to admit, it was delicious. The Northmen who tended the fire had cooked it to perfection, blackened and seasoned on the outside, and red and juicy on the inside. It was just the way Farouk liked his beef back home. Just the smell, texture, and feel of the meat reminded him of home, and memories of his family came flooding back to him.

For the first time in many days, Farouk felt at home.

This night also marked his first taste of mead. The Northman, who shared their love of spirits with the people of Eirenoch, had said the drink was made of fermented honey and hazelnuts. The combination of flavors was sweet, full bodied, and very pleasant to the senses. The feel of it in his stomach was a very warm, comforting feeling. Comfortable enough for the Druid to share a number of herbs with the Northman.

He had brought out his lotus pipe, and offered it to the Northman, who eagerly passed it around for all to share. Within an hour after the meal, the entire tribe was quiet, content, and relaxed. With a belly full of meat, a pipe full of lotus, and a perpetually filled mug of mead, Farouk felt a great sense of comfort. It was one so powerful, that he could lounge in his pile of furs until the end of time, and not have a care in the world.

As Farouk's mind wandered and floated through great, billowy clouds of happiness, he felt a gentle tug on the sleeve of his tunic. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking as he focused. Standing before him was a small girl. Her eyes were bright blue, as large as almonds, and beautiful as the winter sky. He smiled as he saw her, thinking how anyone, even an enemy, could ever wish harm on such a perfect embodiment of innocence.

"What is it, child," he asked her.

"What is your name?" she asked, timidly.

Farouk propped himself up onto his elbow, reaching out to touch the child's ivory hair. "My name is Farouk. What is yours?"

"Lena," she replied, grinning. "Where are you from? You have dark skin like the ghost people."

"The ghost people?" he repeated with a furrowed brow.

"The people who cover their faces," she explained.

"Ah, yes," Farouk replied, realizing she was referring to the face wraps the Jindala wore to hide their individuality. "I am from the same land they are. But I do not serve The Lifegiver. I am a Druid who serves the Great Mother."

"What's a Druid?"

Farouk sighed. "I am not really sure myself," he said. "But I suppose I am like a priest of the Earth. I am learning a little bit more every day."

"I learned something today," Lena said, smiling.

"And what is that?"

"I learned that no two snowflakes are exactly alike," she replied proudly.

"Really? I did not know that. Where did you learn this?"

Lena smiled, turning her eyes to Bjorn, who lounged on his furs a short distance away, smiling as he watched the two interact. Farouk nodded in acknowledgement, glad to see that Bjorn had accepted him, and trusted him with the children of his tribe.

"Why are you here, Druid?" he asked, not in malice, but in curiosity. "Why did the Great Mother send you to the land of giants?"

Farouk rolled onto his back, raising his arms to clasp his hands behind his head. "Everyone else was busy," he joked. He heard Bjorn chuckle, followed by a few others that had also been awake and silent.

"You are here to free Kronos," Bjorn reasoned. "Are you not?"

"Yes. The Great Mother has given me the power to break one of his bonds."

"There are no bonds," Silka said from nearby. Farouk rolled over to face her. She was staring at him, her eyes almost seeming to glow in the firelight.

"I don't understand."

"The Firstborn are not trapped within the Earth," she explained. "They are each trapped within their own realms. Even they do not realize this."

"Their own realms?" Farouk retorted. "I thought the Great Mother created them all here."

"She did," Silka replied. "Each land upon the Earth is its own demi-plane, a separate dimension from the others. But they all exist in this world in a juxtaposition of dimensions. When a man walks from land to land, he crosses the void into another dimension. But the transition is so seamless, that he never notices. The Firstborn each exist on their demi-plane in a small pocket of reality, a parallel dimension that exists simultaneously with the world we see. Each temple is a gateway to that parallel reality, and it is through these temples that we are able to travel to their realms."

"So how are they trapped?" Farouk asked.

"The portals have been closed to them," Silka said. "The Lifegiver has made it so that they, themselves, cannot pass through or use their power to influence those that live in their lands. So far, only The Dragon has been powerful enough to extend his power beyond his own realm."

"What of the Great Mother?"

"The Lifegiver has greatly weakened her. She does not have the power to open the gates fully. But humans can pass through easily. That is why she chose you, my friend. You can pass into Kronos' realm, and transfer enough power to him to open the gate. Then, he may return to our realm and awaken his army."

"What army?" Farouk asked.

"The Valkyries," Silka replied. "In our legends, they are warrior maidens who choose those that are allowed to pass into Valhalla, Kronos' realm, after death. In reality, they are simply his warriors, divine warriors that wield his power."

Farouk laid back, contemplating the shaman's words. What she had told him was very different from what the Great Mother had told him. She had given him much more detail, and explained more of the reality. It was confusing to Farouk. Why would the Great Mother not tell him such details? Did she not believe he would understand the truth? Was her opinion of humanity's intellect that low?

"You are confused," Silka noticed.

Farouk nodded. Bjorn chuckled. "I was lost after
demi-plane
." he said.

The three of them laughed, and Farouk felt some of the tension melt away.

"The Great Mother is very protective," Silka said. "Humans are her great-grandchildren, and she stills sees us as such. She shares knowledge with us as we would our children."

"With metaphors and riddles," Farouk said.

"Exactly."

Farouk stared up at the roof of the mead hall while his mind tried to work out the Great Mother's words. How was he to re-open the gateway to Kronos' realm? Were there actual, physical bonds that held him there, or were they just a metaphor? The questions nagged at the Druid's mind, and made him uneasy.

"Nothing is real," Silka said. "If something needs to be, then it will be. Whatever you are expecting to see, you will see. That is the way reality works. It is tailored to your expectations. As a Druid, you must become one for whom reality tailors to their wishes, not their expectations. Do you understand?"

"I am not sure," Farouk admitted. "Your words are confusing, much like those of my teacher."

Silka smiled. "You will understand when you need to," she said. "I promise you. The key to the success of your mission is disbelieving that which you expect, and believing that which you want to be."

Just will it, and it will happen,
Jodocus had said.

Farouk was beginning to understand those words now. Before, he had assumed that his mentor had been speaking in metaphors. But it seemed that his words were literal. One could, quite easily, cast a spell, even if magic were simply a rumor; as if it were a force that didn't really exist.

Just will it, and it will happen.

Did magic really exist? Or was casting spells simply an alteration of reality by those who understood the true nature of that reality? Was Farouk one of those people? Was he really drawing upon the energy of the Earth by use of magic, or was he simply doing so because he believed he could?

"My head is beginning to hurt," he said. "By trying to make sense out of all of this, it seems to be making less sense the more I think about it."

"Such is the Universe," Silka replied. "That is how it works. The closer you get to understanding it, the more confusing and erratic it seems. What we see around us is the collective expectations of all of us here. We expect the land to appear as it does, and so it does. Reality makes it so, for our benefit. If we look closer at the things around us, we can see that the Universe is nothing more than what we make it to be. If we delve too close to understanding it, it changes."

Farouk chuckled. "That doesn't make it any clearer to me," he said.

Silka joined his chuckling. Bjorn had since fallen asleep.

"You are a very interesting woman," Farouk said, turning to face her. "I can see myself learning a lot from you."

Silka smiled, sitting forward in her furs, lowering her hood. "Come to me," she beckoned. "Enjoy reality with me."

Farouk sat up, looking around. "There are many..." he trailed off.

"Pay them no attention," she said. "They are in their own worlds. Come to mine."

Farouk leaned forward, closing the distance between them with a hand and a knee. He climbed into her open blanket of furs, nestling closely to her as she lowered her arm onto him. She was warm and inviting. Farouk closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her body next to him, and leaned in to kiss her.

He was willing to put reality aside for one night.

The morning brought somewhat warmer temperatures to the small camp. The sky was clear, the snow became slushy, and the wind had died down to a calm breeze. Farouk awoke refreshed and energized, ready to take on his task with renewed strength and determination. His encounter with Silka had brought him a new outlook on his journey ahead.

He looked over at her sleeping form next to him, delighting in the way her golden hair fell loosely over her face. She was indeed very beautiful, if not somewhat untamed. It was definitely a characteristic that the Druid had enjoyed. Never having been with a woman of the North before, he was accustomed to submissive, meek women who simply went along with the "ritual." Silka was different; she was demanding, dominant, and took an active part in the experience. As a result, Farouk was surprised, and even a bit afraid. But it was one experience he would never forget.

He sat up, being sure to cover up his mate. Most of the tribesmen were still asleep, save for a few that had gathered around the fire outside and returned to the mead hall to drink their morning beverages. Farouk joined them at a long table, introducing himself to the friendly Northmen. One of them offered him a cup of steaming dark liquid that felt comforting in his hands. It was thick, bitter, and had an odd effect on his stomach; he enjoyed it nonetheless.