清水

ClearWater
 The Chronicle of
Gillak Stryelak
Recorded by Arukaz the Hermit of Kage.

What is told here in the following leafs is as it was told to me by Gillak

Stryelak. A person of the gentlest mood with a face contorted by the pains
within his own soul. Some have said that he is a God and not a man, other
speak of him as an ancestor reborn. But I whom have met him face to face
would say that is no other than a man of the highest spiritual training; that
he has crossed the boundaries of a mortal and now stands with the gods. As
for him, he would say ‘I am neither man nor God; I am only a Devil with a
heart. So as I finished my journey then let me sleep…’

Dedication:
It was expressed to me to dedicate this tome of mystery, love, truth,
and wisdom, to all those whom have ever dreamed and who have always held
on to make dreams into truths. May all of you whom have the wish for things
greater than the self, this story is for you.

Magic is both reality and illusion. Also reality as we know it is the

strangest of all illusions. Have you ever seen an imp, a ghost, or some other
creature that others say are not real? Look again. Maybe it is or maybe not.
Touch with your heart. For Devils and Demons are only those in our own
mind and the true ones are the ones that walk among us; they may in many
ways look like us. Then again it may be us, ourselves who are the devils.

Be blessed and walk in the light for in life there is neither good nor
evil, only perversion of Nature. So for my people and those of you who have
died, may those who read this tome take heart and find Wisdom…
 Part 1 The Beginning
Visions
Chapter 1
“Gillak come to me. You are mine.”

“Who are you and what do you want? I am no-one‟s.”

“You have been mine since your birth into the physical realm. Come to me.”

Wandering through an eerie mist that folds around the cedars like a death
shroud Gillak tries to find the speaker, tries to find his escape.

“You cannot run my young Gillak, you are mine.”

“Show yourself. I am no-ones.”

“To gaze upon me is to truly know fear, to know death.”

“I am a Verdla and I fear not even death. Show yourself.”

The mist starts to swirl faster and faster, to the point that all is engulfed and
none can be seen. The howl of a wind unfelt rises to a deafening shrill. Gillak is thrown
by some unseen force against the trunk of a thick cedar. Then all is quiet and the mist
stops swirling but grow ever thicker. Regaining his bearings Gillak begins to speaks but
is cut off by an unseen grip around his throat, a grip as cold as ice and as strong as iron.
It slowly lifts Gillak off the ground. Then through the mist comes a pair of glowing
yellow eyes. Eyes like that of the great wolves on the snow flats to the north. Then
appear a face locked behind a mask of bronze. The mask is contorted into a most
devilish face, with two horns of jade protruding from the forehead just above the eyes.
Soon the mist dissipates and the figure that is holding young Gillak pinned is seen in
whole. An armored figure of the highest quality bronze bearing to swords on the left
side of the hip, swords made in the ancient style of Gillak‟s people, the hilt inlaid with
mother of pearl in the shapes of the creatures of the stories. On the right side of the hip
is set an archer‟s quiver made of an unknown type of leather but decorated with small
circular mirrors and holding arrow fletched with raven feathers. A cape is draped over
the figure‟s shoulders, again made of leather that is unknown to Gillak but decorated
with scenes of hell and fierce battles. The cape is pinned by a jade clasp in the shape of
a wolf with onyx inlays for the eye.

“Now you see me young Gillak, know who I am and that you are mine.”

The grip around Gillak‟s neck loosens only a little. There is fear in Gillak‟s
eyes as he looks around and sees he is no longer in a cedar grove but in some dead stone
forest. He notices a white horse behind the figure. The horse is of the same breed as his
people‟s horses except this horse is clad in heavy bronze armor; its eyes are the color of
heated coals in the hearth and give off the same intense heat. To the saddle is tied two
more quivers and three bows, but something else catches Gillak‟s eyes. Strung on a
heavy rope loop around the saddle horn sits four heads, the rope runs through the ears to
create a loop of heads.

“What are you?” Gillak manages to ask in more or less a whisper.

“I am Svahar. And you are mine.”

“No leave me be, let me go.”

“Gillak, Gillak.”

Gillak opens his eyes to see his father looking down at him. Gillak jumps to his
feet pulling the knife from his belt, sweat is dripping from his chest and forehead.

“Gillak its okay, it was only a dream.”

“Huh!” Gillak mumbles looking around and then looking at his father finally
coming to his senses say, “Dream! But father it felt too real to be a dream and I have
had the same vision for the last twelve nights.”

“My boy then come, tell me what you see in your visions.”

“A demon, a creature from hell, the messenger of hell.”

“What do you mean boy?”

“I first heard him and then he took hold of me and I seen him. But not him his
mask, it was the devil‟s mask. He wore the old armor and swords of our people. His
horse too was clad in old armor but upon the saddle were four heads. He spoke to
me…”

“What did he say to you?” Gillak‟s father asks with the fear of death in his eyes,
a look that Gillak could never imagine his father ever having.
 “That I am his, that I have been his since birth. Then I asked him his name and
he said…”

“No. Don‟t say it boy. No.” Gillak‟s father whispers as he turns his face and
cries softly.

“What is it father?”

“He cannot take you too from me.” Gillak‟s father says with face bent.

“What do you mean?”

“Twelve winters ago when you were born your mother was very weak. That
night I saw a man enter the camp clad as you have described. I was too afraid to call
out; I cannot explain it and he had an aura around him that chills the blood so you
cannot so much as breathe. Then when he left he was carrying your mother. When I was
strong enough I went to your mother‟s tent and found you asleep at her breast, but she
no longer had breathe. Then I knew who the man was and why he took your mother. He
cannot take you; you are not yet a man.”

Gillak sits down starring at his father not knowing what to say as his father still
sits with face bent crying into his sleeves.

After some time has gone by Gillak speaks, “Father what should we do then?”

Drying his eyes Gillak‟s father says, “We will go see Yukur, he may know what
to do.”

“Yukur the hermit, the crazy story teller from the Drifting Snows?”

“Yes, Yukur the hermit. He is not only a story teller but also a great shaman.
Very old he is and very wise. He would know how to deal with this problem and make it
go away. Come my boy get ready because we have a long ride.”

“How far is the Drifting Snows?” Gillak asks as he starts rolling his beddings
and packing his saddle pack.

“Many days to the north, pass the great forest and over Ice Gate Pass. Then we
must send for messengers to seek him out. Where he lives no one really knows.”

By mid sun Gillak and his father are packed and ready to ride. They have
dressed in long flowing robes of the most beautiful sky blue silk with silver sashes tied
around the waist. No one in camp inquires why the two are leaving because they
understand from the color of the robes the two are wearing that they are taking a holy
journey. So the two set out to the north, to a land that none of Gillak‟s people have ever
seen before. To a land that is only heard of in legends told around the campfires at night.
What lies beyond the great forest is only a mystery and those who have taken the
journey have never returned to speak of it; with one exception, Yukur.

As they leave the small camp they head north along the Lenari River that flows
into the great forest. It is a two day ride until they reach the great forest and many
unknown things wait to test their journey. Be these things friend or foe only fate and the
gods can tell.

As they travel the day starts to darken, the wind changes direction from south
to north and the smell of snow is upon the air. For this time of year it is odd for snow to
fall. Gillak‟s father knows that there is something troublesome upon the winds but he
holds on to his worries as he wraps his deer fur cape around him and pulls the belt tight
around his waist. Gillak too wraps himself in his cape and stares at the mountains on the
north horizon. Upon the highest peak Gillak catches sight of the bright silver gilt but
only for a second.

“Father isn‟t it strange the way the weather is changing.”

“Yes Gillak, it is too late for the last snow and too early for the first flake.
There is something in the air, something very strange. Keep watch for there is
something odd in the wind.”

“Yes father.”

Nearing sun set they come to a small aspen groove in a hollow along the banks
of the Lenari. Here they dismount and started to make camp. After making camp both
father and son go down to the river to wash and gather water for cooking. But
something unknown to them is stirring at the waters edge.

“Father, it is still a little light out let‟s catch a few fish for dinner.”

“Sounds like a good idea, that way we can save our packs for harder times. Did
you know my son that this river is named after our people‟s ancestral mother; the
goddess Lena?”

“I did not! Tell me the story.”

“After we eat I will tell you how our people came to be. But first we eat, it has
been a long day and we need food.”
 After washing and setting the water over the fire to boil Gillak returns to his
pack to gather his fishing implements. Returning to the bank he over turns a couple of
rocks in search of zyemlyachyer, after finding a few he puts one on a hook a pitches it in
the river. After a few minutes the line grow taunt, Gillak pulls hard and the line pull
hard in return almost pulling Gillak off balance.

“Father come help, I have a big one. Very heavy and strong.”

Gillak‟s father comes to Gillak‟s side and takes the line. He too pulls hard and
the line returns the pull with equal strength. So Gillak‟s father tries again but this time
pulling with all his strength and a pull is given in return except this pull is so strong that
is pulls Gillak‟s father off balance and into the river. Losing the line Gillak‟s father gets
to his feet and returns to the bank with such a stunned look on his face to strike fear into
Gillak.

“Father what was that? Was it a fish?”

“I do not believe that was a fish or anything we wish to eat.” Gillak‟s father
says taking a few breathes to calm his rapidly beating heart, “I don‟t know what it is and
I don‟t intend to find out either. I grew up on this river and fished it many times. Never
once have I felt something like that nor have I heard any stories of some event like that
among fishermen. Let‟s go back to camp; it may be safer farther away from the waters.”

As they take their seats near the campfire Gillak‟s father makes tea and Gillak
wonders what was on the line. What sort of creatures are there in the cold waters that
lead to the Frozen Sea? What creatures will they meet in the lands of Drifting Snows?
What awaits them as they journey further north? Many questions and no answers!

“Here my boy drink your tea and remember only two bites of bread and cheese,
we need to ration the food because we don‟t know how long it will be before we can get
more food.”

“Yes father.” Gillak says as he take his first bite of bread and sip of tea, “Father,
tell me the story of our people.”

Gillak‟s father nods as he lights his pipe and begins the story, “In the time after
the Making of the Land the gods began to create the different creatures and peoples.
There was a god named Balsul the wolf. Balsul is the lord of the forest and master
hunter, one day he caught sight of Lena the daughter of Baikar the god of the inland sea.
Lena fell in love with Balsul and so did Balsul love her. Many times they would meet
upon the peaks of Artai, many times they confessed their love to one another. One day
Balsul met with Baikar to speak of union between Bulsul and Lena. At first Baikar
refused Balsul‟s pleas, but Baikar watch how dedicated Balsul was to his daughter.
Everyday Balsul brought the best game that he hunted to Baikar and every time was
rejected. Then after two winters Baikar asked his daughter about her love for Balsul,
after hearing his daughter‟s response he knew that their love was pure. Then on the
breaking of the New Year, Baikar sent a messenger to Balsul proclaiming his approval
of the union. After the New Years festivals had ended Baikar asked the Shifter God to
give his daughter physical form so that she could be united with her love. The Shifter
God issued forth all the proper incantations and Lena was given physical form, except
her form was not wolf but rather human, but this was all the Shifter God could
accomplish.

Thus moon after moon came and went and Lena could not be joined with her
love. In anger and sorrow she sat with her back toward her father and began to cry. Her
tears were so great that they pooled and then started to move north in a steady flow, this
is how the Lenari became a river.”

“Father why did the tears flow north and not into the inland sea of Baikar and
what happened to Lena?”

“The shamans say that the gateway to the underworld is in the north under the
Frozen Sea. They also say that when one cries from sorrow to the gods it is the same as
crying for the dead, there too Lena cried out of sorrow, thinking Balsul and her life
together was over. A type of death.”

“Ah, like a spiritual death not a bodily death, right?”

“Something like that.”

“So what happened to Lena?”

“She cried for many seasons until one day hear tears reached the underworld
and Erlik Khan. Erlik Khan the judger of souls felt pity for this young woman who
could not be joined with her love. So he called upon his messenger Grandfather Raven
to go and assist in the young woman‟s plight.”

“Why Grandfather Raven?”

“Grandfather Raven is the god of all magic and master shape-shifter. The
knower of all arcane secrets, this is why he was sent to help Lena and Balsul.
Grandfather Raven met first with Baikar and was told of everything that had happened.
Then Grandfather Raven called for Balsul and asked him if he was willing to shed off
his fur and walk on two legs. Balsul without thinking said that he would give anything
to be with Lena; Grandfather Raven knew it was the truth because as Balsul made his
claim he cried. Then Grandfather Raven called forth Balsul‟s pack and told them this.
„Soon the time will come when you no longer walk on four but rather two, your fangs
shall be no more. But worry not for I fore tell that you will be a great and feared people,
your fangs will be those of the archer‟s arrows and you will be feared by all. Remember
though that even though you are in human form, you are still wolves. You will be a
special people, not like the weak humans, you will age slow and live many winters. You
will be named Verdla and all will know you.‟ Then he called forth Balsul‟s brother who
was name Kurul and to him Grandfather Raven said, „You and your clan too will walk
upon two legs but your features I shall not change, you will be the guardians of your
brother‟s people and protectors of the forest. But know that you are to become the
enforcers of the Natural Law. Your people shall be known as the Altas.‟

After this Grandfather Raven dismisses everyone and calls to him Lena. When
Lena arrives Grandfather Raven says to her, „daughter listen. Soon it will come to pass
that you shall be a wife, a queen, a mother. Remember that your beauty shall dim and
you shall die. Your love has moved the Judge of the Underworld so he has sent me to
complete that which was not finished. Forget not the kindness in your heart and the love
in your soul for these and these only are the true beauties of a woman. Now, go and be
with your love for on the one night when none see the moon, when the seven smiths
show brightly in the sky and when the ancestors dance across they sky, you will be
united forever with your love. Make haste for that time comes.‟

Upon the forth passing moon everything that Grandfather Raven had foretold
came to be. Our people were born and so too were the Altas. This is how our people
came to be Gillak and one day you will encounter our Altas kinsmen.” Gillak‟s father
finishes seeing that Gillak has fallen asleep. “Ah my boy it has been a long day for the
both of us, I just hope to save you.”

Now Gillak‟s father stokes the fire and occasionally mutters prayers to the gods.
Soon the winds changes directions again this time from north to east, the horses stir and
grow wide eyed. Gillak‟s father catches the scent of bog mud mixed with a tinge of
blood. Slowly he draws his sword closer to him and peers in to the darkness in the
direction of the river. Again the wind changes back to the north. Now there is another
scent touching the nose of Gillak‟s father, then scent of a woman. Gillak‟s father slowly
stands and moves behind the nearest aspen. A sound now tickles his ears, the sound of
soft silk brushing against the trees and grass and soon a voice. Soft, gentle and soothing
is the voice singing an unknown song. Gillak‟s father starts to feel his eyes get heavy
and is try to control himself and keep his eyes open, but soon he slumps to the ground
and falls asleep. Before he sleeps he catches a blurred vision of a most beautiful woman
in the most elegant white silk dress and he whisper, “Bereginy you witch.”

The woman goes to where Gillak is fast asleep and lays her soft left palm upon
his forehead. He stirs but does not open his eye, his body starts to jerk and his brow
begins to sweat. She removes her hand and watches Gillak for a time and then whisper,
“you are strong young Gillak, but you are cursed for you will not die. Those whom you
love so dearly then, now, and to come you will watch die. You will grow mad with
sorrow then cold as stone. Know that I am yours and that you will return to me.” She
bends down and takes out a roll fishing line and hook. Then going to Gillak‟s father she
lays her right palm over his eyes and says, “what you seen, smelt and heard this night
shall be forgotten and you shall remember only what I have shown you in your dreams.”
Standing and looking once more at Gillak‟s father she says, “it is a sad thing to think
that you proud Tarkus will die before to meet Yukur, but not all is truly sad because
soon you will be reunited with your beloved. Goodbye Tarkus.” Turning to leave the
woman stops briefly to lay down the half devoured remains of a large pike, after leaving
this she dematerializes.

Soon Tarkus wakes and jumps to his feet, as he looks around he sees nothing
only his son still asleep and the remains of a mostly eaten pike. Even the horses are
asleep and the wind has stopped. “What an odd dream, well stoke the fire.” Tarkus says
to himself. After stoking the fire he sits on a stump of aspen and gazes out into the
darkness, thinking or perhaps trying to think.

Unseen figures watch Tarkus from the shore of the Lenari. One of the figures
murmur in sorrowed pity, “Poor Tarkus, Tarkus the fierce, it truly is a pity you will die.”

“Asha you know this is how it must be.” The other figure whispers. So chilling
is its voice that it could freeze the blood.

“Ruka why must he die, he has done nothing against the fates nor the gods.
Why must he die?”

“This is the nature of things, as you know Tarkus was once the greatest warrior
among the Verdla. The weak grow strong and then must return to weakness. Even
though Tarkus is still young, this is only his eightieth summer, after Lihya‟s death he has
grown weak and now he will stand in Svahar‟s way. This cannot be and you know this.”

“How will he die, Ruka?”

“His death will be a brave one, be not worried for no god nor fate shall have
say in his death. Just that it has been foreseen. Tarkus will die and he will be
remembered as a hero, for his death will not be a foolish one.”

Soon Tarkus has fallen asleep again and starts to dream.

Riding a trail through a deep birch forest in the Saiyu Mountains Tarkus notices
movement on the next knoll, stopping his horse he dismounts and hobbles his steed.
Then crouching down he moves down the slope into a bramble of kur-berry bushes,
notching an arrow to his bow he waits and watches. Soon over the knoll appears two
Voyak in light leather armor and armed only with swords, Tarkus also notices that they
are dragging something. Waiting and listening he tries to make out their language, their
language sounding like mud bubbles popping to Tarkus‟ ears, but soon he makes out
two phrases. „We should return to camp,‟ and, ‟It is two days, too far to walk with her.‟
Now watching what they are dragging and following with the silence of a wolf on the
hunt he realizes with utter amazement that the woman that they are dragging is a Verdla.
Anger rising within Tarkus‟ blood he begins to quake and then he stills himself, slowly
breathing he regains his composer. Now how to react, what to do? The Voyak are not
very bright but they are brutally strong and even a well placed arrow won‟t bring them
to a quick death nor slow them down. Both of these Voyak are a good two heads taller
than Tarkus and twice as wide. Their swords are a crude version of a flattened,
sharpened pick but are long and heavy.

Soon the Voyaks stop, one throws both of the thick ropes over a high branch
and hoists the Verdla woman off the ground then tying the end to the base of the trunk.
The two Voyak begin to talk again, one starts pointing in the other direction, saying
something and then starts walking in that direction, away from Tarkus. He watches the
Voyak go down a steep creek bank and hears the Voyak stumble a couple of times.
Tarkus slowly starts to move closer to the remaining Voyak, trying to stay behind it.
Soon the Voyak with the woman starts to get nervous or impatient, then it turns to the
woman and slaps her hard across the cheek. She stirs and slowly opens her eyes, her
face is contorted by a deathly fear and Tarkus knows he must do something soon. The
Voyak grabs the woman‟s collar and rips her clothes so they only hang around her waist,
revealing her young yellow tinted breasts. Soon a scent plays with Tarkus‟ nose, it
seems that the other Voyak is tending to the plants, now is the time to strike. Tarkus
moves within a few feet of the guarding Voyak. Laying his bow down Tarkus holds the
arrow in his left hand and drawing his sword he readies himself. He purposely steps on
a twig and with the sound the Voyak turns, at this moment Tarkus jumps towards the
Voyak driving the arrow into the Voyak‟s right eye and his sword into its mouth. With
the force of Tarkus‟ impact the Voyak collapses and his sword is driven deeper down its
throat until it servers the Voyak‟s spine and the tip of the blade exits between its
shoulder blades.

Waiting a moment to be sure that the Voyak is dead and then finally with
drawing his sword from its throat and sheathing it, Tarkus takes a deep breathe. Then
standing he turns to the woman, putting a figure to his lips to tell her to keep silent he
turns his attention to the tied rope. As Tarkus is working to loosen the knot he hears the
woman gasp and hears movement behind him. Turning he sees the Voyak that he just
killed getting to its feet. With one quick fluid motion Tarkus pulls the axe from his belt
and throws it, burying the blade into the Voyak‟s forehead, and then drawing his sword
once again he slices with all his might cleaving the Voyak‟s head from its shoulders.
“Now stay dead.” Tarkus mumbles.

Now Tarkus knows that he does not have time to release the woman as he hears
the other Voyak stumbling back up the creek bank. He moves quickly over to the
woman and whispers, “Sleep”. She nods; closing her eyes and bending her head. Tarkus
goes back over to where he had laid his bow and then taking up a point behind a thick
birch near the Voyak that he had just killed, he waits. Notching two arrows to the sting
he waits, soon he see the Voyak‟s head, Tarkus knows that no arrow can pierce the skull
of a Voyak, but soon its neck is in view. He lets his arrows fly at the same time as
notching two more and letting them fly. The Voyak stands stunned as all four arrows
have found their target; Tarkus replaces his bow over his shoulder and takes up his
sword and axe. Rushing toward the Voyak has shaken it out of its stunned state, it too
draws its sword and stands ready to meet Tarkus‟ advance. With axe in his right hand
and within eight steps of the Voyak Tarkus throws hoping to distract it. It works as the
Voyak side steps to avoid the flying axe it catches its foot and stumble toward Tarkus.
Once again with all of his might Tarkus slashes down at an angle cutting thought
tendons and collarbone, severing the head from the left shoulder. Quickly turning left in
a circle Tarkus brings his blade to meet the Voyak‟s neck just below the chin. Watching
the Voyak slump forward and then to the left Tarkus sighs with relief as the head
tumbles down the bank into the creek.

Looking around he finally finds his axe lodged in a sapling, extracting it he

replaces it in his belt. Then taking a cloth out of his sleeve he wipes his blade and
returns it to its scabbard. After arranging himself he turns back to the woman, this time
taking his long knife from his boot he cuts the rope and lowers the woman to the ground.
Removing his bow from his shoulders he kneels down unclasps his cape and wraps it
around the woman.

“What clan are you from dear lady?”

“It is more proper for you to introduce yourself first… but you are my rescuer
and I am very grateful. I am Lihya Faojun from the Urren Clan.”

“Urren Clan? You are from Ardus, a royal!”

“So it is true that even you northerners know of us. Then why have you our
kinsmen not come to our pleas of help?”

“I have heard of nothing and I assure you that none of the northern clans have
heard of any troubles in the south, my lady.”

“Who are you and how can you speak for all the northern clans?” Lihya asks
with growing anger, so much so that she begins to tremble.
 “I am Tarkus Stryelak of the Wolf Clan; my father is its chieftain.”

“So you too are a royal?”

“I am only a hunter. Tell me what has happened, why you were the captive of
these Voyak.”

“Two winters ago the Wuyar attacked our southern boarders, we defeated them.
The following spring the Wuyar‟s king made a pact with Jenrukz the Voyak and in the
summer the Wuyar again attacked our southern and eastern boarders with the Voyak
attacked our western boarders. For a year we held them off but the Wuyar used spies
and had persuaded some of the court royals to cross over. My father sent messengers
north to rally help but none came. Then four moons ago Ardus fell to the Wuyar and the
Voyak took many slaves.”

“But you are not a slave; you‟re a royal, right?”

“Yes, but I hid among the people otherwise I would have died with my family.
The Wuyar have put all royals who would not join them to the sword.”

“Come you need food and rest. My horse is near and my clan is camping only a
day‟s ride from here. Can you move?”

“I am a little sore but I think I can manage.” Lihya response with a soft smile
upon her thin lips.

Tarkus puts her left arm over his shoulders, helps her to get to her feet and
picking up his bow they slowly make their way up the hill to the hobbled horse. He
helps her onto the horse. When she is settled in she turns to look at the man who saved
her. Tarkus sees the beauty in her face; soft almond shaped black eyes, oval face with
lightly tanned skin and raven black hair that flows down to the center of her back. Then
as they look at each other her facial expression begins to change from beauty to fear as
she gazes at the right side of his abdomen. He too looks down at his bloodied tunic,
soon he feels his blood start to slow and the muscles in his legs grow tight.

“You have been poisoned, you need help.”

“Poisoned? I will be fine, go, the horse knows the way.” Tarkus says as he slaps
the horse to send it one its way.

“I will send help.”

“I know you will Lihya.” Tarkus whispers as he tries to maintain his strength
until she is out of sight. As the horse disappears over the next knoll Tarkus slowly easies
himself down to sit with his back against a birch. “When did Voyaks get smart enough
to use poison?” he asks himself with a chuckle. He closes his eyes until they are nothing
more than slits and then starts to slow his breathing. Tarkus enters a state of meditation
and soon day passes to night.

Soon he feels his face start to warm. Opening his eyes he is blinded by the
morning light. “Only a dream.” He says to himself as he looks around and sees that
Gillak is up and about. Gillak has stoked the fire up again to cook breakfast, noticing
that his father had woken up he walks over to him. He sits down next to his father and
they both watch the raising sun, the day has cleared and the wind is no more. Tarkus
pulls out his pipe and tobacco pouch, filling his pipe, he lights it then takes his first
smoke of the morning. Looking at his son staring at the raising sun Tarkus smiles then
goes back to watching the sun raise. After Tarkus finishes his pipe both he and Gillak
stand and go back to the campfire.

Tarkus starts to boil water for tea and Gillak takes some flat bread and deer
jerky from his pack. Something is worrying Gillak and soon he cannot hold it in any
longer.

“Father last night when you were sleeping you kept calling a name, you kept
saying Lihya. Who is Lihya.” Gillak says with wonderment in his eyes.

„So it was just an old memory come back to haunt me,‟ Tarkus thinks to
himself and then answers his son, “Lihya was your mother.”

“Who was she and was she beautiful?”

“Ah yes she was like a goddess and none could compare to her beauty. Who
she was? Well she was a princess, a daughter of a king, the king of Ardus.” Tarkus
replies with a smile.

“Ardus?”

“A story for another time lets eat and get ready to go because we still have a
long way to go.”

“Yes father.”

Gillak pours his father‟s tea and they begin to eat their bread and jerky. Soon
something starts bothering Tarkus, like if he had forgotten something. Again glancing
up at his son he begins to wonder why Gillak is in such a good mood. Maybe it is
because they had come on this trip, seeing someplace new usually make boys happy or
may be Gillak didn‟t have any dreams. Tarkus smiles to himself in happiness that his
son seems to be enjoying himself.

After finishing their breakfast they pack their belonging on their horses and
start off again. The sky stays clear with no signs of clouds and the air is crisp and dry
with the smells of the coming summer. This time of year on the steppes there isn‟t much
to see, most of the animals having moved to the surrounding forests and hills to feed.
The other Verdla clans were now far to the south grazing their herds in the valleys of the
Saiyu and Artai mountains. So for these two wanderers this morning appears
uneventful.

As the day draws on to mid sun they come across a carcass. The body is so
mangled that one can not figure out what type of creature it could have been. Tarkus
knows something is wrong because not even they vultures are feeding on the shattered
remains. Over an area of several meters lays the scattered remain, bones crushed and
broken, blood and meat splayed out in all directions as if this creature had exploded.
Gillak gazes at the horrorific scene both in fear and sickness.

“Stay mounted boy.”

“Yes…, father. What did this?”

“I don‟t know of many things that would leave such a display of cruelty.”
Tarkus says watching the ground for any signs that would give a clue to what did this as
they slowing go around the carcass. Stopping his horse Tarkus says, “Stop boy, look,
what do you see?”

“Foot prints. They are too big to be Verdla, humans?”

“I don‟t think this was humans. See how the feet are more squared? Humans
like Verdla have more rounded feet.”

“I see, so what is it?”

“If my memory serves me right it is a Voyak, and not one it looks like there
were two, may be three. They are headed north like us, you want to do some hunting? It
will be good training for you.”

“But father I heard that it takes four Verdla to kill one Voyak…, also I thought
that our people hunted them down and killed them all.”

“Some probably escaped the great hunt and yes they are very hard to kill. But if
you use your head and think before you act you will prevail in anything.” Tarkus says as
he draws his bow, “anyways if we catch them in the open we will have the advantage of
our horses.”

“Okay, let‟s hunt.” Gillak says with concern on his face.

Gillak too draws his bow and rides next to his father, looking over his shoulder
at the scene one last time he shivers.

The Hunt
Chapter 2
Both father and son side north at a good trot; quickly but not to fast to lose the
Voyak‟s tracks. Breaching a knoll more sets of footprints join the original set. So the
trail become unmistakable as the ground has been pounded flat. Now Tarkus become
very concerned, for so many Voyaks to be moving in one direction looks very
troublesome and worse yet in the same direction that they have to travel.

Soon they come to another small aspen grove where Tarkus pulls his horse to a
stop. Turning to his son he put his finger to his lips to tell his son to keep quite. Gillak
nods as he looks around with wary eyes. Then the breeze changes directions carrying a
scent to their noses, a familiar scent, a woman‟s scent. As they look in the direction
from where the wind has brought this alluring scent they see a haggard woman in
crimson robes enter the grove and collapse into the brush. Tarkus looking at his son
jumps off his horse and says, “Keep you bow and eyes sharp boy. Stay here.” Gillak
only nods out of shock.

Tarkus moves quickly over to where the woman collapsed with his hand ready
on his sword hilt. As he comes within a few feet of the woman he sees the slashes on
her back and her shaved head. „A nun.‟ Tarkus thinks in sheer amazement. Kneeling
next to her he finds her still breathing, though very slowly. Turning her over he asks,
“What happened?”

“Voyak… everything burning… death… Voyak…” She breathes and with her
final word comes her last breathe.

Closing her eyes and saying a prayer Tarkus looks in the direction in which the
nun had come. Soon pillars of smoke rise high into the sky, pillars of death. Tarkus
stands and slowly returns to his son with head bowed. Gillak knows the look upon his
father‟s face and also the reason for such an expression. Anger rising in Gillak‟s heart he
begins to shake and quiver. Remembering what his father had taught him Gillak begins
to breathe hard forcing its rate to slow. Hearing movement behind him Gillak turns and
releases his readied arrow. With the twang of Gillak‟s bowstring Tarkus‟ head jerks to
look in that direction. Standing in front of an aspen stands a wolf, but not any wolf, one
that stands on two legs with the hands of a man and standing three heads taller than
most Verdla.

“Good shot boy but a bit high.” Says the wolf man in a guttural voice looking
up at Gillak‟s arrows buried in the aspen between it‟s ears, “Be sure of your shots, then
you will hit your target.”

Tarkus takes a sigh of relief as he pats his son on the leg to tell him that it is
okay. Gillak lowers his bow but keeps his next arrow notched and at ready.

The creature walks toward Gillak and his father, as he come closer Gillak
notices that the creature is heavily armed. Strapped across it‟s shoulders is two large
swords crossed, in front are sheathed twenty knives the length of a man‟s forearm,
around it‟s waist is collected more knives, two double headed axes, and protruding from
it‟s boots two more knives. In it‟s left hand it hold a helmet and both hand are covered
with black gauntlets. “My friends what brings you this far north? Not many Verdla
come so close to the great forest.” It asks eyeing them very carefully, “Ah holy robes,
journeyers, but there have not been Verdla shrine this far since the great war.”

“You are an Altas…” Gillak stutters in amazement.

“Yes boy I am.”

“My name is Tarkus and this is my son Gillak. We are going to find the shaman
Yukur. We have seen Voyak tracks and have followed them this far…”

“Yes the Voyak…to many for you two. You want to teach your boy to hunt I
see. A pup needs to learn.”

“How many Voyak are there?” Tarkus asks.

“A Duri, to many for you two but not enough to be too much trouble. Forgot I
am Yaral”

“What is a Duri?” Gillak asks looking at his father and the Altas.

“Duri is a group of a hundred Voyak and Azoyak.” The Altas replies. “Get of
your horse boy and let‟s sit. Hobble the horses; you two are not going anywhere yet.
Between here and the great forest there are many Voyak and Azoyak. Take your rest and
move at night.”

“That is good, go on Gillak hobble the horses and we rest.” Tarkus says.

As the three sit in the shade of the aspen grove and talk there is movement to
the north. Within the great forest an army is building, packs are drawing to the edge of
the forest. Blood is boiling in the veins and the calls for the hunt are called by the
howlers. Pups are hidden and the alphas are on the move to gather their followers.
Prayers are said and blades are blessed. Some will live and those who die will die brave.

Soon evening falls and the darkness grows thicker, Tarkus walks to the edge of
the grove and see many camp fires. Returning to where he left his son asleep and Yaral
he hears the wolf cries. At the sound of the first shrill cry Gillak is startled out of his nap
to sitting up wide eyed. Yaral gives a chuckle and stands. Turing to Tarkus he says, “It is
time Tarkus the fierce, you can join us or stay here and continue your travels in the
morning.”

“We will join you.” Gillak says with fire in his eyes.

Yaral looks at Gillak, “are you ready pup, ready to die in hell and be reborn…”

“Reborn as a Wolf, the King of Hunters. Yes.” Gillak interrupts.

“Looks like we ride then.” Tarkus says.

“Then wait for my signal then ride right into the center of the fires, do not stop
and let everyone of your fangs strike their prey. Ride through the grove on the other side,
draw the Voyak to you.”

Gillak and his father untie their horses, mount and move to the edge of the
grove were they ready their bows. Tarkus turns to his son, “remember everything I have
taught you and no matter what keep riding.” Gillak nod to his father‟s instruction and
notches his first arrow. “Are you nervous boy?” Tarkus asks his son.

“Yes but I know that my arrows…fangs will find the prey. Tarkus the fierce has
taught me.” Gillak says with a smile then says, “Father when this is over and we are far
from here, tell me why Yaral called you the fierce.”

“I will.”

Yaral lets outs a blood chilling howl and gets a response soon of two yips. “My
friends good luck and may the gods preserve you.” Then a hard shrilling howl is given
from the other side of the invisible battle field. “Now ride Verdlas.” Yaral orders.
 With a kick Gillak and his father are racing towards the camp. As they come
within half a mile from the first fires they spot four guards, drawing closer the guards
close rank to create a living barricade, father and son let their arrows fly. Tarkus in two
pulls has released four; driving deep into two guard‟s throat, Gillak‟s first shot finds its
mark in the eye of the lead guard and his second into the groin for the second and it
releases a howl of its own as it topples to the ground. Tarkus moves easily past his two
guards as Gillak play with his eye shot Voyak. Turning his horse left and drawing his ax
he is met by the half blind creature, quickly press his left knee into his horse he spins
right bringing the axe head deep into the Voyak‟s jaw. Turning his horse to the left he
comes around the back of the Voyak slashing it across the back of the next
dismembering the head from its spine. The Voyak has dropped it weapon and grabs the
back of its neck, slowly teetering it soon crumples. Quickly replacing his ax, Gillak
draws another arrow and lets it fly into the neck of his groin wounded victim, pinning it
to the ground. Riding hard Gillak finally closes ranks with his father. Pressing further
into the camp both father and son release a rain of arrows on their fire light blinded
prey.

Only half way through the camp and image never conceived by any Verdla
including Tarkus appears, heavily armored and mounted Voyak appear. These mounted
Voyak charge as a single wave toward Tarkus and his son, soon lances manifest in the
hands of these Voyak. As Tarkus and Gillak press deeper firing arrow after arrow at the
on coming charge only to have the arrow bounce off the Voyak‟s armor. Soon Gillak‟s
nerves make him to miscalculate his shot and his arrow drives deep into one of the
Voyak‟s horse‟s eyes. As the horse topples it knocks off its rider and stumbles the horses
to each side of it. This causes confusion among some riders gives Tarkus the
opportunity to make the same shot as his son. With two holes created Tarkus and Gillak
make their breaks through the openings. As Tarkus passes over the horse he toppled he
contorts over the side of the horse and snatches up one of the rider‟s lances then up
righting himself he tuck the lance under his arm just in time to fall an oncoming rider
with a snap of the lance. Gillak passes through his hole only to find a lance being swung
at him, laying backwards on his horse the lance passes just above his nose. With his
bow readied and still laying backwards Gillak releases and strikes the rider in the neck,
the rider is knock off the horse from the close range impact of the arrow.

Tarkus with bow in hand again falls two more Voyak coming out of the tents as
he rides by. Gillak as well is having more luck with his aim and striking true to his mark.
Then drawing past the last guards who are racing into camp something strikes Gillak in
the back of the neck, dropping him off his horse. Gillak hits the ground hard, with the
adrenaline working in his blood he rolls over on his back. Shaking off the impact of his
fall and looking back at the camp he sees just what Yaral had said, the Voyak were
following them into the grove. Turning over onto his belly he crawls over to a small
bush. Because of the fall he had lost his bow, now drawing his knife and axe he waits.
 Soon Tarkus breaks out of the grove he just entered and looks around. Then he
sees his son‟s horse come out of the grove but not with Gillak. Tarkus‟ heart stops, „no
he can‟t be‟ he says to himself. Tarkus turns his horse back to the grove only to see it
erupt into a fully heated battle. Soon two Voyak burst out of the grove, Tarkus drawing
his swords dismounts his horse to meet them. Seeing Tarkus the Voyak raise their
swords and charge, shifting his weight Tarkus places his left foot forward. Within arms
length the Voyak slash at Tarkus hoping to pin and half him. Tarkus has another idea,
diving between the two he aims his blades at their knees cutting through meat and bone.
Tarkus stands and turns to meet his foe only to find that they have buried their swords
into each other. Now dizziness takes Tarkus and with the world spinning around him he
loses his balance and collapses to the grounds unconscious.

Gillak watches as Voyaks pass in groups of five or ten, racing into the grove.
Then to Gillak‟s awe the grove releases the cries of the dying and the sound of metal
against metal. Then Gillak hears a sound next two him and then hands as strong as iron
grabbing his collar lifting him off the ground. The smell of bodily waste and death
toying with his nose and the vision of pure and utter ugliness appears. Without a
moments thought Gillak pushes his knife forward into the creature‟s gut and bringing
his axe up with all of his weight into it groin. With a moan the creature start to slump
forward, Gillak retracts his knife again stabbing in the creature jugular while bringing
his axe down on the Voyak forehead with such force to cleave the face in half revealing
the pink throbbing brain. The creature releases it hold only to grab Gillak once again
around the throat. Soon its grasp starts to waver then finally the creature falls pinning
Gillak underneath its great girth, knocking him out.

Two robed women helping the wounded Altas come across the still
unconscious Tarkus. They check his body for wounds or any other sign that could
possibly give an answer to why he is asleep. Finding nothing wrong with him they
together lift him to his feet and slump him over his horse. “I will take him back to camp
and then may be we can find out the reason for his sleep.” One of the women says with
a voice of an angel. The other woman nods and continues on her way. Unknown to his
caretaker Tarkus has fallen again into the world of dreams. But his dreams have taken
him to a place many dreamers would not dare to go.

Slowly the woman and Tarkus‟ horse make their way toward the Altas‟ camp.
Soon they come to a small forest path and Tarkus‟ horse begins to stirs, nostrils flaring.
“Easy boy, I smell it too. Easy.” The woman says caressing the horse‟s neck to calm.
After a few minutes have passed they continue up the path. „I know you a here.” She
says to herself as her right hand goes into the fold of her blouse. So the expected
appears on the path in front of the woman and horse. Still holding the horse‟s reins in
her left hand and her right hand still in her blouse she steps between the creature and
Tarkus‟ horse.
 The creature now stand to it full height and stretches out its hulking arms. Then
bending down it picks up it‟s ax, a huge double bladed thing. Not stirring the woman
begins to whisper strange words that weave together like a spiders web. The creature
starts to move towards the woman, lifting it‟s axe over its head it starts to rush. With in
five steps she extends her right hand from her blouse releasing a cloud of fine white
powder into the creature‟s eyes. It stops lowering its weapon trying to see, soon its eyes
starts to crust-up and it begins to howl. “Hurts doesn‟t it.” The woman says, then
reaching into her left sleeve extracts a small gourd flask. Inserting a fine silken cord into
the flask‟s top she takes the horse slowly around the creature and drops the flask
between it legs. After making a distance of three hundred meter from the creature she
lays the end of the cord down and raises her hand over the end. Slowly concentrating
her body begins to shake, then with a crack the cord lights. Standing, she again takes the
horse‟s reins and continues on her way. When they top the next knoll a sound like
thunder shatters the night silence. “Hope you find a place in the underworld.” She says
with a tinge of excitement.
 Part 2 Blood Frozen
Grave’s Kiss
Chapter 1

Part 3 Wind Wanderer

Travel to the God’s Gate
Chapter 1

My name is Gillak Stryelak. I come from a land of many mountains and rivers.
This place of Mystery in the Northern reaches of the land has been untouched by the
Civil. We have no cities or permanent villages. My people are the Verdla, a once strong
and proud nation of nomads. Our lives were simple, moving our herds with the seasons,
living in peace with only the briefest periods of warfare with those who wanted to
enlarge their empires or become our overlords. Many tired, but all have failed, except
one…Uzhasni. It was in my eighteenth winter when his great armies came to our lands.

I must speak a little of this Uzhasni, his people are a Western people. These
people we had named the Meryan. Their history is well known to my people. Up until
twenty winters ago they were not even unified into a people. They were mere farmers
with the simplest form of hunting skills. As time has proved they have become very
strong. As the story is told, Uzhasni was a rich land owner in the Southern part of their
lands who had contact with the Angar people. He hired these men to train his warriors in
the Arts of Warfare.

Here I am clarifying that the Angar are our Western kinsmen.

As the course of history is written Uzhasni unified his people through prowess
on the field of blood. Then he turned on the Angar and defeated them, then, his final
thrust would shatter and scatter my people to the four winds. As for my clan it was
destroyed, but by the grace of Hell; ever burning, I escaped. Now I wonder the lands
letting the winds take me wherever they lead.