The Clovel Destroyer (5 page)

Alfard got to his feet as he saw two men on ossanes
coming from the village of Darykans. As the riders came closer, the
farmer could see they were merchants by the black robes they wore.
Alfard
saw the men led several erba and a
saddled ossane.

“
I see you found our lost items,”
declared
Alfard
when the two men stopped. The
farmer’s grin dropped when he saw their hard faces. He realized
they were probably bandits who wore the robes of their victims. The
bulge of weapons could be viewed under their
merchant
clothes
.

One of the men gave the farmer a cold stare while
the other, a younger man missing his front teeth, showed
Alfard
a grim smile. The man with the missing
teeth glanced over at the warrior who sat
on
the edge of the road. “I don’t know what you are talking about.
These animals are ours. But seeing how you look stranded, we might
be able to sell you these.”

The
old
farmer
spat
on the ground. “I don’t know who you think you are,
but King Penhda hangs thieves in this land.
Those are
my erba. They scattered when the fire came through. The ossane
belongs to that man over there.
I don’t think you want to
try and cheat him.”

“
Well, you would have to prove
your words to the king. Since these animals will be sold after we
get to Gramcan, unless you pay up, you can sit on this road with
your injured friend.” The toothless man looked at the giant warrior
who continued staring at the wreckage in the ravine. The bandit
looked back to his victim. “Choice is yours, but remember, those
bodies won’t keep forever in this sun.” The men chuckled to
themselves. They believed the farmer had little choice at this
point. A quick way to make some koinons before they traveled
on.

“
I’m not paying for my own erba,”
the farmer told them defiantly.

“
Then, you can just rot here with
the corpses.” The bandits started to move forward when they saw
Urith rise to his feet. The warrior quietly
walked
in front of them, pulling his sword.

“
You will give this man his
animals,
or you will die,” the Esterblud’s
growl sent a shiver through the farmer. “It’s your
choice.”

Dropping the line leading to the stolen animals, the
two men pulled their swords. While they had not expected a fight,
they could see little reason to worry about the dirty, injured
fighter in front of them. “That works fine
for
me,” said the toothless man. “Your armor and sword will be worth
more than the animals.”

The men spurred their ossanes as they charged at
Urith, one behind the other. It was their last mistake. The
Esterblud warrior calmly parried away a sword strike from the
toothless man, shoving the tip of his blade between the man’s ribs.
The bandit barely made a sound as he fell over the side of his
mount as the animal slowed to a halt. The
thief
died
before he struck the
ground. Spinning around as the other mount bore down on him, the
warrior
whipped his weapon across his enemy’s
face
. The blow nearly severed the bandit’s face from his
skull, leaving the ossane galloping along the road with a lifeless
body perched on the high back saddle. The animal
came
to a stop,
Alfard
and Urith
watched the body slowly fall away to the ground before sliding down
into the ravine. The farmer stared in astonishment at the warrior
who cleaned the blood from his blade as if nothing had happened.
Urith stepped back between the bodies of his wife and father,
looking over the landscape as he slid his Clovel Sword into its
scabbard.

After gathering the remainder of his herd,
Alfard
took Urith's ossane to him then asked
if he could help put the bodies on one of the ossanes recently
vacated by the bandits. When Urith turned to him, the farmer saw a
deadly detachment. The
farmer
suddenly feared
the
warrior
and wisely chose to remain silent
as he helped strap the bodies over the back of one of the ossanes.
When the farmer offered the other bandit’s
ossane
as compensation to the warrior for saving him,
Urith
only
shook his head before riding off.
Alfard
watched the giant man galloping down
the road with the second ossane in
tow,
and he
felt a cold chill run through him. He thanked the
gods;
he would not be around when the warrior decided to
inflict his rage upon his enemy.

Lowering into the
Mayflow
Sea,
the setting sun cast a
pale red
light across
the land when Urith finally reached the
thick
wooden gates at the walled city of Gramcan. The warrior slowed for
the
heavy-laden
wagons trying to enter the
town
before dark. Guards nearly attempted to
stop the dirt covered warrior until they recognized his tunic
colors. They waved him
by,
and he paid no
attention to the stares of people looking at the wrapped bodies on
the ossane behind him. He was beyond thinking about others. Urith’s
sole focus was to deliver his wife and father to the temple.

When he reached the white stone steps leading to the
circle of towering columns, he found Guthlaf waiting for him. One
look at his giant friend and the two bodies told Guthlaf he should
have stayed with them. It was a mistake his friend would regret for
the rest of his life. He reached Urith, unable to think of anything
to say. He simply reached over and placed his hand on his friend’s
shoulder.

Urith stopped. “I come
to the
temple
where I will send my wife and unborn child to the Sky
Realm. Their bodies will burn with my father.”

The ominous demand surprised Guthlaf. To do as Urith
insisted upon would mean
going against the
satgerts
, as the priests were
called. And it was against Esterblud tradition. While a noble
woman, Earmis was not a warrior and to make her ashes an offering
to the sky gods risked offending them. Only
warriors
who died from battle
traveled with Mivraa to Haligulf. The
best hope for Urith’s wife was to become a water spirit among the
elementals who lived along the Exyts Spring near Haligulf. But only
Duwdamon, the ruler of the Sky Realm, could grant such an unusual
request. Guthlaf disagreed with Urith’s intent and knew the help of
a powerful
hakra
, or seer, would be necessary
to get permission from the gods to offer Earmis' ashes in such a
way. Knowing better that to cross Urith, he
just
stated that they needed to seek the great
hakra
Dughorm for his help and wisdom.

“
No, he is long gone to
Ynyover
,” Urith replied. “I will not wait and
hope for such a thing. The gods will hear me now. You can leave if
you cannot help me.” Guthlaf knew his friend too well to think he
could convince him otherwise. He shrugged and followed Urith to
help with moving the bodies into the temple.

The men climbed the steps, Urith carrying his father
while Guthlaf carried Earmis. Reaching the top of the steps, they
entered an open courtyard, where a large rectangular block of black
stone shined like a polished blade. Around the altar were special
torches which the priests always kept lit. They lay the bodies on
the stone platform, before going further into the open temple.
Descending the steps to the funerary pit which was reserved for
nobility, Urith and Guthlaf went to a nearby blue
woodpile
and began filling the
hole
.
Laying enough wood to fill the pit level with the ground, they
placed the bodies on the
kindling
, then added
more of the blue colored wood over the dead. When Urith began
pouring the oil over the wood with a bucket, a
satgert
came running to them.

“
I see the body of a woman. This
is sacrilege,” the old man yelled at them. “Get away from this holy
pit. Only a noble warrior can be given to the gods.” When he
reached the
fighters
, he tried to pull the
bucket from Urith. It was a mistake. The Esterblud grabbed the man,
throwing him to the ground.

Still holding the bucket, Urith showed lightening
speed as the Clovel Sword blade flashed, pointing closely at the
priest's face. “You come near me
again,
and
you’ll get to meet these gods you worship. I’m making this
decision,
and I don’t need the help of old men
who know nothing.” Guthlaf jumped between the men, calmly telling
the old man of their plan.

“
You cannot do such a thing,” the
stunned priest shook his head. “You will anger the gods, bringing
destruction upon all of us.”

“
Well, I welcome a chance to meet
such gods.” Urith’s face told the man there would be no change of
mind. “My dead wife goes to the Sky Realm. You will not stop that.”
Urith walked to one of the torches and threw it onto the oil
covered pile.
Soon
the flames spread and the
satgert
got to his feet. Urith stared at the
blaze,
and Guthlaf
indicated
the old
man should stay, pointing to a spot next to him. He knew, given a
chance, the man would summon guards and that was something he could
not allow.

“
It’s time for you to earn your
keep.
Offer
prayers to the great Esterblud
warrior called Uolven and the
noblewoman
called Earmis.” When the man came next to him, Guthlaf leaned close
to the priest, whispering, “I tell you to pray well. Otherwise, my
friend might decide to use you as a living sacrifice
to
the fire.” He saw the man nearly buckle at the threat
before the priest began chanting prayers. Guthlaf smiled to
himself, hopeful his friend might have a chance to let go of the
bitterness and rage he knew Urith felt inside. Word of this
mistreatment of a temple would spread and could leave Urith branded
as an outlaw. Despite their status within the Esterblud tribe,
Guthlaf knew this action might bring the wrath of their king down
upon them.

The evening waned as the flames finally consumed the
bodies, leaving only ashes and a few bits of bone. Urith remained
motionless the whole time, unaware of anything but the flames as he
repeated a prayer he remembered from his youth. The old
satgert
collected the remnants of Uolven and Earmis in
separate clay vessels, placing them on the stone alter to give a
final blessing. Guthlaf noticed the priest made no mistakes,
following the ritual precisely. They followed the man to a nearby
wall, watching the old man place the pots into the carved out
shelves where their spirits would be blessed each day.

Satisfied, they left the temple with Guthlaf
steering his quiet,
stone-faced
friend to a
tavern. However, Urith refused the offer of heathmead.
Instead,
the warrior laid a few koinons down for a
room.

“
I’ll leave tomorrow for
Cilgarran,” Urith told Guthlaf as he tried to go the
quarters
.

His friend caught him by the arm, telling him they
should go to their overlord first. “King Penhda should be told of
Uolven’s funeral. He will keep the satgerts from making any
trouble.”

“
You can tell him, I’m leaving. If
you need sleep, there is another bed in the room.”

Urith pulled
away;
his body
suddenly swept with an overwhelming weariness. He slowly climbed
the stairs and found the room which held two small beds. The
warrior pulled off his weapons and started on his chain mail before
giving up and laying face down on the bed. Urith inhaled the musty
stink of the
straw-filled
bed,
and his face ached
from the
disfiguring, drying scab
that across his cheek. But, he fell
asleep almost immediately.

Deep in the heart of the Neewar Mountains, a giant
young warrior carefully followed the tracks of the monster. Soft
rays
of
the late day sun trickled down through
the dense green and blue canopy of the low trees. The black
helmeted warrior could smell the distinct odor of rotting flesh and
sulfur. It was the creature he tracked for his
sakreta
, an
ordeal quest taken by all Esterblud warriors. However, the
direction of the monster remained uncertain due to the lack of
wind. A deathly stillness gripped the forest. Nothing made a sound;
the usual symphony of nature quieted, knowing something evil walked
among them. Urith knew it only too well. A monster like the Clovel
left only destruction in his wake. It was an intelligent
beast,
and the Esterblud warrior knew he would
have only one shot at destroying the nearly indestructible
monster.

He stepped slowly through the underbrush, pausing
between steps to intently look and listen for any
significant
movement.
The odor grew
stronger, and the warrior slowly pulled his new sword from its
scabbard.
He felt the unfamiliar grip of leather and wire,
thinking of his pride when his father, Uolven, gave him the
unique
sword. A weapon unusual in the many
layers of
folds
welded together with different
metals and engraved with powerful spells. He remembered his father
telling him how Dughorm,
an unusually gifted
seer,
and good friend, used
a
particular
method during the forging of the sword. Using the
ancient spells over the blacksmith fire, they ground up a blue
amulet stone, adding it to the metals used in the weapon. When
Uolven presented the sword to
Urith,
he said
he believed the sword was capable of killing a Clovel monster. They
named it the Destroyer.