Destiny (9 page)

Directly south, Norek saw his people storming the Citadel. Since the massive fortress construction after Irlendria’s first Race Wars almost three thousand years ago, it had never been defeated, but now its thick outer walls burned where they’d been breached. Still, the Citadel’s inner walls held as the battle continued to rage on fiercely. Hundreds of thousands of his people lay dead in heaping piles that ran to the very top of the outer ramparts, but still his people rushed forward blinded by their insatiable fury.

Floating alone above the plains, Norek watched his people with growing horror. Something was terribly wrong. This was against every belief his people held as sacred! What could have driven his people to do such horrendous acts of violence? As he watched, Norek saw something odd he’d initially missed. Spread out amongst the hordes of Centaurs charging into battle were thousands of glowing red auras, leading his people onwards to death and destruction. Even this high above the battlefield the voracious evil radiating out from these creatures froze his soul.

Focusing on the nearest source below him, Norek at first thought there were two creatures standing on top of each other, but as he came nearer he realized his mistake. There was only one. The outer skin of the creature looked like a Centaur, but on the inside, it was a hulking corpse-white mutant standing on two legs. Norek’s eyes narrowed as he immediately recognized the beast. It was Tuonellian Hulk! All around the battlefield, Norek realized the Hulks were leading the Tribes. Unknowingly, his people were being used as pawns of Loviatar. Using cruel whips, they drove his people before them relentlessly.

In the skies above the battlefield, another deadly fight for existence was underway. Coming together in the heavens, the gods of the Alliance joined forces into a massive army of souls. Surrounding his people, they attacked as one. With Luonnotar at their lead, the Tribes fought for their existence as the spiritual world erupted in chaos. Everywhere he looked there was only devastation and war.

A bolt of pure energy exploded in front of him in a blinding flash of light as once again Norek found himself standing on top of Mount Airy. Heart thumping loudly in his chest, Norek choked back the terrible fear of the destruction he’d just witnessed as he looked up in shock. Floating in the air before him was the form of a massive glowing Centaur.

Immediately recognizing his God, Norek collapsed to the ground pressing his forehead to the cold stone of the mountain. Although he had seen the many crafted amulets depicting his god throughout his life, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw now. Squeezing his eyes shut Norek tried to block out the blinding white light, but the vision was seared into his mind

Luonnotar was a God with three aspects. The first was the Earth-Mother, who lived in the land beneath their hooves, representing birth and life. Her domain was that of the living. She ensured that the Tribes continued life and the abundance of the land, teaching her people to live in balance with the world around them. She was the mother of all Centaurs.

The second was the Sky-Father, who lived in the heavens and represented war and death. His domain was the Spirit Ream and the heavens. Watching over the souls of the dead, he guided the Tribes into tomorrow.

Norek had met both aspects during his time as Chief of the Thunder Tribe, but never before had he met the combined aspects, until now. Luonnotar was both beautiful and terrible to behold, representing the Spirit of Nature. The Tribes believed that all Centaurs were created equal. Both the male and female essences were essential parts of the same whole. One was not greater than the other since both were needed equally for the Tribes harmony and continued life. In this form, reddish-purple blooms of Alttash’s Tears grew around its body, while the rainbow-hued feathered plumes of the Great Thunderbird were woven into the long white mane cascading down its back. Before Norek could take in more, Luonnotar’s voice rang inside his head with an intensity that removed all thought.

“Norek, son of Manitou, Chief of the Thunder Tribe, heed my warning. If not, all that I have shown to you will come to pass.” Gripping the rock of the mountain with both hands, Norek’s whole body shook from the sound. “Your daughter must agree to undertake the Yatra if the Tribes are to have any chance of survival.”

Norek heart skipped a beat. His mind clinging to Luonnotar’s words as his thoughts raced. During the Tribes long history, there had only been eight questors and each had earned the Tribes greatest badge of honor, the mark of Nakutu. Any Centaur with the mark of Nakutu was beyond reproach, exemplifying the highest concepts of honor, bravery, and self-sacrifice that all Centaurs held sacred.

Questors left everything behind when they chose to accept the Yatra. No family, no friends, no Tribe, they gave up everything. Except for the Staff of Yatri and the mark of a questor, they owned nothing until the quest was complete.

Tribal laws were very strict when it came to questors. Anyone wearing the mark of the Yatra would not be questioned or stopped. Nessa would be able to go anywhere, and not even a corrupt Chieftain could challenge her right. For his daughter to be so honored nearly broke his heart with pride, but at the same time, his soul was deeply troubled. Being a questor always came at a terrible cost and Nessa had already lost too much.

“She must seek out the last Paladin of Ukko.”

Pushing himself to his knees, Norek cried out distraught. “Then all is lost, Great Spirit! The Klavikians were destroyed nine years ago. There are no Paladins left within the world.”

Instead of anger, there was only a deep sadness in Luonnotar’s next words. “There is one Paladin that yet lives, Norek, son of Manitou. Although he is not on Irlendria, he will be soon. Nessa must seek him in the Great Forest of the Elves.”

Surging to his hooves, every tendon stuck out of Norek’s body as he forced himself to meet Luonnotar’s blazing eyes yelling at the top of his lungs. He would not lose his daughter like he’d lost his son! “Take me in her place, Sky-Father!”

Floating back into the heavens, Luonnotar answered Norek’s plea calmly. “You already have your part to play in this, Thunder Chief. For the sake of your people, I hope you choose your next course of action wisely.”

Leaping into the air, Norek followed after Luonnotar. With every fiber of his being, he drove his soul after the slowly disappearing god. Higher and higher he flew willing himself back into the Spirit Realm when lightning suddenly crashed around him. In a blinding flash of light the Sky-Father was gone.

“Nooo!” For a long moment, Norek could only stare at the empty blue sky before him in shock when he suddenly felt it as if a massive hand was wrapping around his chest. A second later he was being pulled irresistibly back towards the ground.

Focusing his thoughts, Norek strained against the force with all of his might, but it was of no help. Suddenly the air gave away beneath his hooves, and he was falling back towards the mountaintop far below. As he fell, Norek realized what was happening. Now that the vision quest was complete his soul was being summoned back to his body against its will.

Normally, Luonnotar sent spirit animals to guide the chosen on their visions quests. If not, the Questor could go astray and lose where they had left their bodies and never return to the realm of the living. Never before had he heard of such a thing like this happening. Screaming in wordless rage, Norek felt his soul slam back into his body as his voice echoed in his ears.

“Nnnooo!” Eyes flying open, Norek sucked in a ragged lungful of air. Springing to his hooves, he looked around wildly searching for any sign of Luonnotar, but there was none. Once again he was alone on top of the mountain.

Tears streaming down his craggy face, Norek stood unmoving for a long time looking across the plains with a heavy heart. With grave resolve, he contemplated the message that he’d been given to deliver as the wind pulled at his long black mane. There was something about Nessa that Luonnotar believed could save the world, and he was expected to ask his last surviving child to undertake the Yatra in her current condition.

Thinking about the terrible grief Nessa was suffering from, Norek shook his head sadly. She was in no shape to take care of herself let alone undertake a Yatra. Searching the sky, Norek silently cried out in anguish.

“Tell me, Teshna, what should I do?”

No answer came. His wife had died long ago during the Great War, but he still talked to her daily. Even though she wasn’t here, he sometimes felt her loving hand guiding his decisions. Searching his heart, he felt her soothing touch on his soul. Once the Yatra was completed, he would ask Luonnotar once again to be allowed to join Teshna in the spirit realm.

Looking into the sky once more, Norek came to a decision. It would have to be him. Luonnotar would have to understand. Wiping his tears away, Norek climbed down from the Council of the Ancestors. Gathering up his discarded gear, he quickly began strapping everything into place.

Pausing to look at the runes of power running down the length of his great-great-great-grandfather’s tinnearlian-wood mace, Norek sighed heavily. He didn’t carry the Staff of Yatra, nor did he wear the mark of a questor. None the less he was a chosen.

Focusing his energy, Norek activated the runes carved into the nearly indestructible wood. For a moment, the ancient weapon glowed with blue energy. The chosen were battle leaders that could wield eldritch powers. Every chosen had the ability to energize the rune magic in the weapons of the warriors around them, which made them essential to the tribe. Releasing the power that energized his mace, Norek grimly smiled as he started the long climb back down the mountain. He didn’t need anything more from Luonnotar to complete the Yatra.

The descent went quickly, and before Norek knew it, he was once again standing at the base of Mountain Airy. Galloping to the nearest rise, he stopped as his eyes searched the holy peak one last time for some sign of approval from Luonnotar. Seeing none, he turned to the east where the Great Forest of the Elves lay.

He would find this last Paladin as Luonnotar commanded and return to the tribe. In his absence, Uzila would have to lead until his return. With a heavy heart, Norek turned to go. “Luonnotar would have to accept his decision-”

Pure agony shot through Norek’s hind leg as he slammed into the ground blasting the air out of his lungs. Rolling with the force of the impact, he launched himself back to his hooves reaching for the mace strapped to his back, when a coarse voice called out behind him.

“Where do you think you’re going, Thunder Chief?”

Spinning around Norek’s good legs sprayed out as he fought to catch his balance. The remains of his shattered hind quarter flopped uselessly as another rough voice spoke, mockingly holding up his bloody limb.

“I’ve never tasted a Chief’s flesh before.” In horror, Norek watched the Hulk’s mouth stretch unnaturally wide as it bit off a chunk of flesh from his leg.

“Hmmm tastes like hestur ...” Pausing in thought, the brute looked up at his partner speaking around the bloody mouthful of meat.

“Hey Tork, he’s not all white like the other ones.” As the creatures paused to look at him questioningly, Norek called out to Luonnotar for help as his berserker rage overtook him. He could feel his senses suddenly accelerate as everything around him slowed down. While his precious blood spurted out of the ragged stump with every heartbeat onto the ground, power surged through his veins as the runes of his mace flared to life. He could see the shocked faces of the two Tuonellian Hulks surrounding him as he lunged forward in a blur of motion.

The whole scene unfolded like he was standing outside of his body. The last time Norek had fought these beasts he had a Paladin of Ukko healing his injuries and was fully armored. He knew there was only a short amount of time before he bled to death, so he planned to make these last moments count. Lifting his mace high over his head, Norek brought it crashing down on the shoulder of the misshapen claw holding his bloody leg as he cried out his Tribe’s war cry.

“WwwaaaNnniii!” Norek felt the hulk’s entire shoulder shatter beneath the brutal strike. Without pause, he followed through on his next attack. Spinning around on his good hind leg, Norek clipped the second creature in the jaw as he swung the two-handed mace in a wide arc. As the Hulk spun away from him like a ragdoll with a crushed jaw, he power-drove the mace completely through the first Hulk’s neck, decapitating the beast with the single brutal strike.

“WwwaaaNnniii!” Spinning around, Norek cried out his war cry once again, lunging after the reeling Hulk as the creature’s face twisted in savage hate. With a wordless roar of rage, the Tuonellian’s clawed fist shot out from its body. Stretching out rapidly, the arm quadrupled in length as it sliced-off Norek’s front leg.

Ignoring the injury, Norek let his momentum carry him on top of the Hulk as it fell backward. Before he could crush the creature under his mass the Hulk’s other clawed fist struck deep, burying into his lower abdomen. With a cry of pain, Norek’s body spasmodically jerked as he hung suspended in midair. Swinging his weapon down with two hands, he shattered the creature’s shoulder with his mace as it jerked its misshapen head out of the way at the last second.

Gasping for breath, Norek grasped the Hulk’s thick bicep with his free hand. With a sharp jerk, he forced his body further down the misshapen arm trapping it inside his chest. Again and again, Norek grimly pulled himself forward until he rested on top of the struggling monster’s broad chest.

He had learned the move many years ago when the Alliance had stood against the Tuonellian Hordes at the Battle of Tothnell. Only this time, there were no Paladins to save his life afterward. Norek’s head swam as he struggled to lift the heavy mace with both hands. With a grunt of agony, he hefted the mace above the Hulk’s hate filled eyes.

The creature screeched in rage struggling to free its trapped arms, as its rasping voice spat in rage. “I will rip the flesh from your bones! I will-”.

Falling forward, Norek slammed the mace home with the last of his waning strength just as the blue glowing runes began fading away. With a satisfying crunch, the Hulk’s head exploded like an overripe melon as Norek collapsed atop the dead beast. Closing his eyes, he breathed in ragged gasps of air.

He was already dead; only his body didn’t know it yet. As his heart began beating slower, Norek heard heavy footsteps approaching through the long glass. When they came to a stop behind him, the harsh voice that spoke sent shivers down his spine.

“That was unexpected Thunder Chief, but ultimately useless.” Rough hands rolled Norek onto his back, before lifting him off the ground by his neck. Looking up, Norek saw another nine foot tall muscle-bound Hulk crouched over him hungrily as its eyes glowed red with malice.

“You’re wearing my face Thunder Chief!” Fear shot through Norek for the first time as the Tuonellian Hulk held up a long clawed hand before his face smiling wickedly.

CRACK … CRACK

Suddenly, two arrows shattered in the creature’s face as the Hulk reared upright in surprise, dropping Norek to the ground completely forgotten.

CRACK … CRACK … CRACK …

Immediately arrows began slamming into the monster’s face and chest in a steadily stream, each one smashing on impact against its stone-like skin. Throwing its head back, the Hulk screamed out a challenge. “Rrraaahhh!”

Norek knew he didn’t have much time. Tribal tactics were straight forward. He knew the attacking warrior would be charging into melee range within a matter of seconds. Once that happened, the fight would be over. There was no way he couldn’t let this creature steal his face. He had to do something!

Norek had been extraordinarily lucky to have taken out two Hulks by himself. Normally, it would have taken several experienced warriors and a lot of luck to take down one of the terrible beasts. If they hadn’t been overconfident and he hadn’t been willing to sacrifice his life, they would have slaughtered him in a matter of seconds.

Still, maybe there was a chance. Ever since the war against Loviatar, the Tribe’s Elders had commanded that all weapons were to be crafted with Klavikian runes, even arrows. Praying to Luonnotar for strength, Norek reached deep down into his soul calling forth the eldritch power of his birthright one last time. As the runes on his mace lying next to him flared to life, he heard the warrior’s galloping hooves nearing. Focusing his energy, Norek reached out for the incoming arrows.

THUNK … THUNK … THUNK

Norek heard the Hulk’s surprised grunts of pain as it staggered backward with three arrows protruding out of its chest. The rain of arrows suddenly stopped as, a second later, the warrior slammed into the beast with a loud crash mace first. Wide-eyed, Norek cried out in fear as he immediately recognized the Centaur’s markings.

“Nessa, no!”