The Forsaken

WHERE THE LOST GO

Smoke rises from a small campfire as meat cooks on skewered wooden sticks. The wind carries its smell. It smells good. Even more so for the hungry stomach. Near, hidden in the trees, the party looks at the lively resting place where a dozen Northmen sit around a campfire. Dressed in animal skins, they look even more primal than those they met before; long entangled hair and jewelry made of bones. The Northmen are considered savages by the standards of the people of Ferro but even still they always took time to groom themselves unlike these. They hear music, a man plays a joyful tune on a strange three-stringed instrument. Others laugh and clap, enjoying the show.

“What do we do?” Shaphas softly asks.

“They outnumber us. But we have the element of surprise,” Ulric adds.

“Agreed. If we attack swiftly, we may catch them off guard,” Tyr says, sneaking a glance behind the tree.

The silent spear-wielding woman nods in agreement as she grips her weapon.

“Haw we do dis?” Little Pete asks.

Melione looks at her strategizing companions.

“We should split into two teams. One will circle them and attack their back as the other team remains here. Ulric can signal the start by shooting one of them with his crossbow,” Tyr explains.

“We couldda make da noise,” Little Pete says.

“Who will circle them?” Ulric asks.

“Me, Shaphas, and that woman,” Tyr says looking at the silent spear-wielding woman.

“What bout’da crazy woman?” Noname asks.

“She is the chosen of the Moon,” Ulric responds with a wide glare.

“Dat is right! If she fights we win,” Little Pete adds as Big Pete nods in approval.

“She fights when the time is right. None can command her except the Moon,” Ulric adds.

“Dis is no time for dat!” Little Pete adds to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“The crazy woman!” Noname says.

“I’ve told you her name is Melione and...” Ulric angrily speaks as he gets cut off.

“Nah ya twat. Look o’er dere!” Noname says, pointing in the campfire’s direction and the Northmen.

Melione stands there in front of them as they stare at her.

“Hello, my name is Melione,” Melione says, smiling at the confused Northmen.

“I don’t believe this,” Tyr says, slapping himself in the forehead.

“Go! Go! Go!” Ulric yells as they run out of hiding and charge the enemies.

The Northmen raise their weapons at the rushing party as the clash grows inevitable.

“No!” Melione says turning around and stopping their assault with a simple word and a raised hand; they stop in confusion.

The two parties stand in a deadlock.

“They are not our enemies,” Melione says, faintly smiling.

“What? Shahphas asks in confusion.

“One said to find them,” Melione says as she turns back to the Northmen carrying her unwavering smile. The two parties stare at each other in high alert as they ponder about the situation.

“What are you talking about? Who said this?” Tyr asks, gripping his sword.

“One,” Melione adds.

“Which one?” Tyr asks again, losing patience.

“One,” Melione answers.

Tyr sighs. Why do I bother, he thinks?

“What is happening here?” a giant savage with an even larger axe asks.

“Dat would be good to kno,” Little Pete adds.

“You came here with that great army?” a Northwoman asks stepping forward. Long entangled hair with bones and blue war paint on her face. Looking closely they can see war paints in different shapes and sizes.

“We did,” Tyr responds; the silent spear-wielding woman nods on the side.

“If that is true then we are not enemies but I don’t understand what are you doing with a mystic?” the woman asks keeping her guard up.

“Mystic?” Ulric blurts out.

“Those white-haired sorcerers from the North?” Shaphas says.

“What mystics are you talking about? There are no mystics here,” Tyr adds.

The Northwoman points at Melione; the party looks at each other thinking. She has white hair, and she displayed signs of magic; there is no doubting that. Why didn’t they think about her similarities with the mystics before? What even is she?

“I’m not a mystic,” Melione says as she walks closer to the Northwoman who becomes more alert griping her sword.

“You look like them. You feel like them. You smell like them,” the northwoman says.

“I’m not them,” Melione adds with an earnest smile.

“Then who are you?” the Northwoman asks.

“I’m Melione,” Melione says, smiling catching the northwoman off-guard.

“It appears there is no need for a fight. May we sit and have a conversation?” Shaphas says as he approaches with an extended hand; the primal Northmen look at each other.

“Fine,” the Northwoman says.

“But chieftain...” another Northman speaks as he gets cut off.

“You question me?” the Northwoman raises her voice.

“No, Kopo,” the Northman stands back.

“You will stay on one side. No funny stuff or I shall spill your blood,” the Northwoman says as the giant man with the giant axe raises his weapon and flexes his muscles, threateningly. Big Pete steps forwards without speaking and does the same. He never was a man of many words.

They sit across on logs eyeing each other in silence and alert; waiting for someone to break it? The more they look at each other the more they notice certain peculiarities. There are similarities between these Northmen and those they faced yet they are different; no armor only animal skins, and bones, a lot of them; bone rings, bone amulets, bones in the hair, and everywhere else they can fit, this and the blue pain spread across their faces and bodies.

The voices whisper.

“She knows! She is the one that will help us,” One says.

“Knows about what?” Two asks.

“About the one, we are searching for. About the smell lingers of power,” One explains.

“The so-called mystics? Yes. Ask her about their master,” Two adds.

“Ask! Ask! Ask!” One maniacally yells.

“Where is the Master?” Melione asks as the silence is broken and replaced with a dreadful glare.

“The Master? Boreas? What do you want with him?” the Northwoman chieftain asks.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!” One and Two yell in unison.

“Dead like bunnies in the fields, dead like bunnies in the fields,” Melione hums.

“She wants to kill Boreas?” the large Northmen asks in confusion; the other Northmen murmur amongst themselves in shock.

“Boreas?” Tyr blurts out.

“You know this name?” Shaphas asks.

“That chieftain... what was his name again?” Tyr says.

“I believe it was Bjorn Dreadblade,” Shaphas says, remembering.

“You know Bjorn Dreadblade?” the giant Northmen asks in surprise.

“He challenged me in a single duel during the siege of Union,” Tyr says.

“That monster? And yet you live?” another Northmen says with surprise.

“If he speaks the truth that means the Dreadblade is dead,” the Northman says as he laughs.

“You lot are full of surprises,” the Northwoman chieftain says as she holsters her weapon; the others follow her example.

“Who leads them now?” a Northman asks.

“It is that bastard Calder,” another Northmen adds.

“At least he isn’t as dangerous as Bjorn,” the Northman asks.

“I would rather face Bjorn than Calder,” the giant Northmen with the giant axe adds.

“How so? Bjorn is monstrously strong,” the Northman asks.

“Bjorn is strong. Much more than Calder. But he is different. He was direct as a bear during the daylight. Calder is like a snake at night. One will maul you to death and the other will kill you while you sleep. I would rather know when my time comes,” the giant Northman explains.

Noname grabs a piece of skewered meat; a Northman looks at her.

“Wat? Any problem?” Noname says looking at him.

“For you? None,” the Northmen responds with an awkward smile; Noname smiles back with confidence.

“Before we talk introductions are in order. My name is chieftain Eno, the giant guy over there is Owt. Then we have Eerht, Rouf, Evif, Xis, Neves, Thgie, and Ent,” Eno says.

The Northmen smile as their names is called.

“We have one more but he isn’t here,” Neves says.

“That is cos you scared him,” Owt adds cleaning his giant axe.

“Meh. His problem,” Neves grunts.

“Dinttcha they call you Kopo?” Little Pete asks; the Northmen laugh.

“Kopo is a term for the chieftain. She is Kopo Eno,” Owt explains.

“We are of the Luu tribe,” Xis adds.

“The Luu tribe?” Ulric asks.

“There are many tribes in the North. Many don’t get along with each other,” Kopo Eno says.

“Many are at war with each other,” Eerht says.

“Many do not condone of that monster Boreas,” Rouf adds.

“Those you have fought against follow him but not us,” Xis says.

“It is unbelievable that you stumbled upon us,” Rouf says.

“True. It is almost as destiny herself is leading you. If you came across others, you would have to spill blood,” Owt adds.

“The Moon leads us,” Ulric says as the Northmen look at him in confusion.

“Many of those damn Boreas followers,” Eerht says spiting on the ground.

“If I could I would cut off his bloody head!” Neves angrily yells.

“Agreed. Death to Boreas!” the Northmen yell in unison.

“Enough! If you want to try to kill that monster I will help you but I warn you he cannot be killed,” Kopo Eno says.

“All men can be killed,” Shaphas says.

“Boreas is not a man,” Xis adds.

“Xis speaks the truth. Boreas is an ancient monster. They say he lived for thousands of years. They say he is an immortal,” Eerht explains.

“Wait! Nat all of us wanna go fight immortals. Ain’t that right, Noname?” Little Pete says.

“I will go,” Noname responds chewing on the meat.

“Wat?” Little Pete asks in surprise.

“Ya say dat man is responsible for the attacks. For Harry’s death? If so, I will kill him,” Noname says clenching her fist.

“Noname?” Little Pete blurts out as he sits in silence; Big Pete looks at the pain Noname harbors. For the first time, he wishes he wasn’t such a man of few words.

“If such an abomination exists surely, I must purge him in the fires of Aion. This is, without question, his will,” Shaphas says making a sign of a mirrored upside-down seven.

“I go, for Harry,” Noname says.

“I and Melione follow the Moon,” Ulric says.

“Wat bout the rest of ya?” Noname asks.

“Imma sorry Noname but I’m going home. Harry was mah friend, but I dontchha wanna die,” Little Pete says; Big Pete and the silent spear-wielding woman nod.

“Go back. Make a grave for Harry where his old man is buried,” Noname says as Little Pete fights to keep tears from flowing.

“So four of us will go,” Shaphas says.

“Four?” Tyr asks.

“Tyr? You will join us?” Shaphas asks.

“I will... go,” Tyr says, reluctantly.

“Surely this is a blessing of Aion. I was sure you wouldn’t go but I am glad to be wrong,” Shaphas says as he laughs.

Tyr tightly grips his sword.

“Neves, show them the way back and give them some food. With some luck, they will make it,” Kopo Eno says.

“Dis goodbye?” Little Pete says as he and Big Pete approach Noname.

“Don’t worry. I will get revenge for Harry,” Noname says.

“Ya still speak weirdly somma time, and propa other time,” Little Pete says smiling for perhaps the last time; he turns away.

Big Pete approaches in the silent company of the spear-wielding woman; he tightly hugs Noname.

“Ya watch yourself,” Noname says as Big Pete nods. He and the silent spear-wielding woman leave saying no words of farewell.

“Was there a need for such a hasty farewell?” Shaphas asks.

“It is better dis way,” Noname says looking away.

“True, no good can come to your kind in these lands. The sooner they leave the better chances they have,” Kopo Eno says.

“The war will keep others preoccupied. Maybe even give them a fighting chance,” Owt adds, sharpening his axe with a whetstone. A brief silence overtakes the party.

“We are here on a purpose,” Ulric says, breaking the calm.

“To be honest with you, there is a reason we are here. Some time ago a mysterious old man came to us and told us that a company of men and women will arrive who will aim to take the life of Boreas. He told us they possess the power to make this happen,” Kopo Eno explains.

“An old man? Who?” Shaphas asks.

“No idea. We’ve never seen him before but he said his name is Kateeh,” Owt adds.

“And you believed him?” Tyr asks.

“Of course not. The crazy bastard waltzed into our tribe and started spouting nonsense, or so we thought,” Owt adds.

“We were about the kill him as we were finishing laughing but then he made a persuasive argument,” Kopo Eno says as she pauses.

“Wat argument?” Noname asks.

“He broke a couple of bones with a mere thought,” Xis adds.

“A very persuasive argument,” Neves adds, nodding.

“M-a-g-i-c,” Owt dramatically says.

“Death to the Queen!” Noname blurts out as her right eye twitches and her finger flips.

“I’m getting fed up with magic,” Tyr snarls, shaking his head.

“Our warriors couldn’t approach him as the air was heavy and distorted,” Xis adds from the side.

“Naturally, we still thought he was crazy but took him more seriously,” Kopo Eno explains as she spits on the ground.

“I am not familiar with this name, do any of you know this person?” Shaphas asks looking at the remaining party; there are no answers.

“So a crazy old magician comes and tells you to wait here and you do it?” Tyr asks.

“Not here exactly. He told us to camp west from the ambush and wait,” Owt adds.

“He even knew there would be an ambush? Is he a person of the Moon?” Ulric asks, thinking.

“This is weird. Nothing made sense from when I left that stupid tavern. It is as if I am a puppet and someone is pulling the strings,” Tyr angrily says.

“We are all puppets of destiny,” Shaphas adds, in his mind, profoundly

“Who cares? Do you want to fight that monster? We want Boreas to die. You fail, we lose nothing, you succeed we gain everything,” Kopo Eno says spiting on the ground again.

“It is a sign from the Moon. Tell us how can we get to him,” Ulric adds with a sinister smile.

“We will guide you and provide a distraction. The rest is up to you,” Kopo Eno says.

“You seem awfully helpful,” Tyr says watching the Northwoman chieftain.

“Must you get an explanation for everything? Our goals match. I would do anything to kill that bastard even if it means listening to some crazy old magician and taking a risk on strangers. That is how desperate I am. That is how much I despise him,” Kopo Eno says.

“Death to Boreas!” a couple of Luu tribe Northmen yell.

“We rest for now and leave early tomorrow. No more questions, now we drink,” Kopo Eno says as she pulls out a bottle.

“We drink!” the other Northmen cheer.

Night falls as the Northmen drink, dance, and sing; the one called Xis plays his three-stringed instrument as the others follow in song. The party sits quietly watching them, all but Melione who joins the merry Northmen. This is her way.

Xis sings as the others follow with united voices.

My land is harsh, my land is cold

Covered all by pure white snow.

My people are strong with hearts of gold.

Their eyes shine with a battle glow.

Those that enter will not leave.

For the Northmen is here.

He will make his enemies grieve.

In this death’s frontier.

The song ends as they toast each other.

“How can they sing like this now?” Shaphas asks, looking with disbelief.

“Who cares,” Tyr adds, drinking their booze with a smile on his face. This isn’t half-bad, he thinks.

“It is how we prepare,” Owt says standing on the side.

“Prepare?” Ulric asks, looking at the giant.

“If death comes we want to welcome it with no regrets. That is why we celebrate before we face it,” Owt explains.

“Why are you here then and not singing with them?” Ulric adds.

“I’m afraid if I sang I would scare even the dead,” Owt says as he laughs.

“I doubt you are much worse than them,” Ulric says.

“Are you perhaps versed in the art of singing?” Owt asks looking at Ulric who moves his fingers across the carved name on his crossbow.

“I am not, but my sister had a beautiful voice,” Ulric says.

“Had? I see,” Owt says.

Xis approaches them.

“I hear battles go smoother when the day before is filled with smiles and laughs. Here is an old drinking song,” Xis says, taking his instrument.

“I prefer my songs,” Shaphas responds.

“Is that so? Let me hear what you have,” Xis asks as Shaphas stands.

He takes a deep breath preparing himself as he monotonously chants.

There is only one god, his name is Aion

There is only one path, the path of Aion

Follow the god, the god of fire

Follow the path, the path of light

The Northmen look at each other.

“That was horrible,” they say in unison.