Journal of Colrath Haldorson
12th of Herune, Year 558 7th Millennia
3A4E Epoch of the Ponderous Sage
Once upon a distant dream I knew a life of love, long before tragedy brought me to the Minotaurs, to Morticus and Kanus, and before the truth pulled us apart again to seek our own paths. I remember still my time toiling in the dirt, the hard and rewarding labor, the frigid nights by a warm fire listening to my father's tales of adventure, the petty disputes with my brother Bulverk, or sharing a novel with my mother; her greatest desire was to breed a love of literature and a sense of wonder within her sons. She would sing to us when we were small, read to us while we learned our letters, and each spring would gift us new books to suit our age and interests. I can still hear the sweet sound of her voice lulling me to sleep, a ritual we shared for longer than my brother knew. Too riled and rambunctious was I, as distinct traits of the Haldorson line as our honor and resolve. One family hymn, from my father's side, still echoes in my ears each night, aching my heart with longing:
The busy brown badger digging out his den
Races wild winter fast at summer's end
Perfect practiced paws bore tunnels fresh and new
To cozy badger beds and lounge with meadow view
Oh, proud furry fellow, see the frost has come!
Stay home safe from frigid winds that freeze your bum!
The busy brown badger, young but fully grown
Left his happy home to strike out on his own
Though brave and eager builder, he should not forget
Open arms await when heart begins to fret
Damp dirt enthralled efforts are in fitting fun
Such a suiting worker sees his task soon done
The busy brown badger settled in his hole
A drab and dismal den lacking life and soul
So he leaves lone lodging in homeward hurry
To warm arms and laughter easing all his worry
In love the heart revives strength to stag reside
But maybe in the spring, with cheer as his guide!
Would that I learned to heed that loving wisdom sooner... We three shared in that sense of regret, each marked distinctly by our loss, the shared grief that brought us together and ultimately tore us apart.
-Captain Colrath Haldorson
*******
4th of Irmis, Year 549 7th Millennia
3A4E Epoch of the Ponderous Sage
A warm breeze fluttered through towering trees and into a farm nestled in the wooded expanse, into a planted field of modest size bordered all around by a white wood plank fence adjacent to a sizable pasture similarly fenced. Within the first, a young and dark haired boy with coppery skin stood at a row of wooden crates against the barrier between the two. The youth emptied the last of his shoulder slung sack and finished piling the harvested carrots, kale, and radishes into their respective bins then wiped the dark dirt from his hands with a satisfied grin.
Job complete, he raced from the fields and across the grassy yard between his family's barn and their home, passed the broad pasture in which stood grazing more than half a dozen oxen, and bolted into their cottage, stomping heavily down the hall to his room at the far end to retrieve his traveling pack. His passing left clumps of grass and soil atop the stained wood floor and ground into an ornate hall rug, but he noticed not at all in his excitement!
Colrath Haldorson was finally old enough to accompany his father, Valdus, and older brother, Bulverk, on his first hunting trip, a long awaited day at last realized. His tenth winter passed and nearly every day of past several months he tussled and trained with his elder sibling in preparation; he pestered the older boy to no end! His mother, Thora, tried to temper his impatience with chores until his father's return from a work expedition, but much of what needed doing was rushed or ignored in the eagerness of anticipation.
"Colrath!" a stern and indignant shout rang out down the hall as he pack in a few last minute items and buckled his hatchet and sheath to his belt, "What a mess you've made... boy, come to me AT ONCE!"
He groaned loudly and did as commanded, trudging into the hall to find his mother with arms crossed and lips pursed, book in hand tapping against her side a strong clue to the irritation she felt. Her thick dark hair was pulled back in a mess of a ponytail, fierce and beautiful features painted in disappointed frustration, bronze toned and flush with anger. Her cotton blouse and leggings were dirty from work and it was clear he interrupted a reprieve into another treasured love story.
"I JUST bought this rug in Vasmare from that Ariasholm trader only a few months back, and now look at the state of it!" she scolded, "Young man, if you expect to do as you desire, you WILL respect this home! Sweep this mess and shake out that rug or you'll go no where, ya hear?"
"Yes ma," the boy replied in a huff, dropping his pack at the entrance he stormed through before; he paused a moment to enjoy the invigorating wind that blew through and filled their home with the scents of nature and grinned boyishly, "sorry for the mess, I just want so badly to go on a real adventure with da!"
"Oh sweet boy," she laughed wearily, "I do understand. Always dreaming and wandering, you're ever more concerned with escapades of the future than with what lies in front of you. It's a wonderful thing to dream, but those who only consider what can be find themselves missing what's at their feet, and often trip for it. Now get to work!"
Colrath quickly did as bade, if begrudgingly; he dragged the long heavy rug to hang off the porch railing and sputtered from the billowing dust as he shook it out, sneering as his mother giggled at his expense. Hall swept, he finished by replacing the rug. Colrath admired the pattern of rolling arches and pastel colors it boasted, a series of intricate mandalas blended into one another along its filigree-bordered length. It stretched from the small foyer down the hall that ran the length of their home and to the back door, past the den to his left and the dining room door beyond it. To his right was his parents' bedroom, largest in the home, then Bulverk's followed by a small office, the washroom, and at last Colrath's untidy space.
"Thank you, little love," Thora said with a bright smile as she wrapped him in a tight hug with strong arms well-trained from leatherwork and farming. Colrath wiggled and yelped as she planted kisses on his dirty cheek, the robust kid no match for her but not one to surrender.
"Go now, your father will be home from the lumberyard shortly," she said as she released him, the boy rubbing the residue of her kisses from his cheeks while she beamed smiling at her growing son, "help your brother finish getting Bern ready, Bulverk has been done with HIS chores an hour now!"
"Yes ma'am, I love you ma!" Colrath hollered as he dodged another hug and sprinted out the door. He leapt from the top step of the porch and landed with an 'oof!' from his pack's added weight. Wild unruly hair poured around his neck and shoulders and bounced with each stride toward the barn, sticking with sweat to his face.
Amber eyes twinkled excitedly, a matching pair meeting his at the sight of his brother in the barnyard beside a beast of burden. The two shared their mother's eyes, but took the brawny shape of their father, broad and trim with strong arms and legs.
"Oi, little orc," Bulverk greeted, a common and playful insult, "what took you so long?"
Colrath sneered and stuck his tongue out as he pushed his nose up like a hog to mock the affront.
Don't call me that, ARSE," Colrath retorted, "I had the firewood to finish, then the vegetables, and then ma needed my help for a bit... took a while is all."
"You mean you were day dreaming about splitting goblin skulls again and got distracted," accused Bulverk laughing as he brushed the coat of the farm's largest and best behaved ox, "I told you a thousand times, da says goblins rarely come near our hunting grounds, they fear Ragnakind, and da says that the Whitescape Province Ragnakind are the most fierce of all! They're terrified of us, nasty little shits!"
Colrath packed feed into a satchel for the hairy beast between them while Bulverk spoke and then turned his attention to the animal.
"Hello Bern!" Colrath greeted the large creature affectionately. The ox offered a nod and turned to nuzzle against the boy in response. Bulverk continued on about all that Valdus knew, about the tenacious tribes from whom they descended, the first great hunters to brave the savage expanse that became the Ragnaheim Kingdom. Their people faced fierce beast and monstrous creatures, bested giant tribes and befriended the goliath peoples that sparsely populated the region. While other races from across the worlds had come to know and live within those savage lands, few could stand the frigid weather of that northernmost region of the nation and so it was almost exclusively populated by the dark complected natives and the goliaths who first settled land. Even during summer the nights would chill to bone those unaccustomed to the biting cold that crept from the all too near tundra.
Colrath half listened while he fed hay to and patted the thick muscled jaw of the ox, bored with his brother clearly enjoying a sense of superiority, his tone condescending. Colrath absentmindedly stepped away and unsnapped his hatchet to give it a few practice swings at envisioned goblins, orcs, dire wolves, and even giants stomping from the books and townsfolk's stories imaginatively into the barnyard.
"One day, I'll be a hero like father, a strong warrior like the tribes of old!" he sang while dancing through practiced movements learned under Valdus' tutelage; the soldier turned woodsman wisely honed his boys for any trouble they may face, likely or not.
"Aye, but aren't you you listening?" Bulverk asked condescendingly, "For all the hunts da has brought me on, only wolves, bull spiders, and great cats have ever threatened us, and those are easy enough to chase off. Da knows how to read the wilds and avoid trouble, orc brain."
"I told you not to call me that!" the younger boy shouted, chucking a clump of sod at his brother to catch him square in the face. The elder spit and sputtered and stumbled back, wiping his face and shaking away the dirt and root that clung.
"You're dead, little ORC!" Bulverk raged as he leapt onto Colrath. The two tumbled in a mad wrestle of elbows and jamming knees, cursing one another nastily while Bern watched with some simple form of amusement. So deep in their scuffle were they that neither noticed the presence of others until a shadow loomed over and two strong hands grabbed either boy by the collar. Colrath twisted and struggled against the grip until he saw a simple badger head tattoo faded over a sinewy arm and realized that the one to lift both boys into the air so easily was familiar indeed, as was his companion.
"Da! Constable Mernaught!" he shouted happily, and the rambunctious boy continued to wiggle for freedom. The powerful man set both boys roughly on their feet and out of each other's reach. Behind and looming well above him was the goliath constable of their town and dear friend of their father and family. The ten foot tall man of light gray skin grinned in amusement at the boisterous boys' behavior.
"What's this mess, then?" Valdus demanded, their largely muscular father peering down at both with hands on hips. His black hair flecked with gray was short and shaved on the sides, old runes tattooed on his scalp where exposed, a similarly black and gray beard kept short on his face. Hazel eyes flashed and both boys turned their own shamefully to the ground.
"I'll not have you two in a quarrel while we hunt," he scolded when no response was forthcoming, "this is serious business, and if you act as children then children I shall leave behind! Understood?"
"Yes father," the boys answered in unison. Colrath feared for a moment that Valdus would do just that, but strong calloused hands ruffed their hair and the man smiled.
"You boys have fire in you," he chuckled with a soft look, "hopefully this hunt will burn you out a bit."
"Mister Mernaught, what are you doing here?" Colrath asked, attention flitting like a little bird to the massive and kind faced fellow.
"Silly boy," laughed Valdus at his carefree focus, "he met me on the way home and was discussing news of the world with me."
"What sort of news?" piped Bulverk while Colrath piqued, both curious. They adored the peace officer and seldom saw him, as busy as he was.
"So nosy, you two!" Valdus cried in mock lament while Mernaught chuckled.
"It is no bother," the monolithic man spoke in a rumble, his tone low and kind, his speech slow and steady, "You see, several families in the area have fallen on hard times this season, and it's not uncommon for me to seek aid from the community to help them recover when these situations arise. Likely they will recover on their own during the summer, but as a precaution we ask that each household that can does set aside an additional portion of their crops for the communal larder."
"Aye, a noble request that we can easily and will happily oblige, my friend," Valdus announced with a nod to his boys, "because kindness breeds kindness, and perhaps one day we may need the same."
"But we worked hard for what we have!" Bulverk responded with a scrunched up face, "And what about the market, our profits? Isn't it better to worry about our own?"
"Aye, it would seem pragmatic," Valdus conceded with a pat on Bulverk's shoulder, "but what are we without our community? 'Our own' includes them as well. If any part of our people suffer it will affect all in time. To act out of kindness, to help the unfortunate, strengthens us all, emboldens the bonds we share. Not to mention we seldom sell all that we bring to market."
"Plus it's the right thing to do!" added Colrath, grinning at his father's look of approval.
"So it is," Valdus chuckled, ruffing the boys hair again, "you two go on and finish up, I have a few words left for Mernaught, pray give your old da a moment."
*******
Valdus and the goliath left them to squablle through their work and saddled up to the fence that separated the barnyard from the main yard and pathway that cut through his property and right to the forest's edge. The Haldorson patriarch leaned comfortably with arms crossed and nodded smiling to his sons.
"Hard-headed as any boys I've ever known," he laughed, the pair then in competition to fill feed bags, "and certainly I deserve the headaches they give me for all that I gave my ma and da, Spirits preserve them and all the departed Haldorsons."
"You do them well in the way you and Thora rear them, Valdus," Mernaught rumbled kindly, "And to think, the wild creature I once fought beside a family man so nearly domesticated!"
"Nearly, but only just!" the other quipped with a smirk and an affected growl, "Anyway, you can count on us for the larder, it's been a fruitful spring and we're bound to have surplus, and even if we weren't we'd help as we could."
"It is and will be greatly appreciated," Mernaught assured him with a pat on the back that would have toppled the much smaller man had he not braced, "but there is more. Worrying news, maybe no concern to us but could mean trouble in the future."
"Oh? Well out with it. Is it orcs? I would prefer another season without those murderous dolts finding their deaths in our woods."
"Nay, it's news from the council. Scouts along the lawlesss borderlands between Ragnaheim and Ariasholm report strange and sudden alliances among the bandit tribes. They've been massing in the north, slowly, and though their lot has always had infighting enough to kill any unified threat reports indicate some uncommon aspects to their behavior. Someone or something has been shaking things up."
"That is troubling indeed... but they've made moves like this in the past and never really bothered us. It's Ariasholm they target, for their weaker defenses and more appealing goods."
"Aye, as I said, it may be nothing in the end. Other strange news, there's been word of an Akkadian dragon in Weyawood."
"An Akkadian? Here? Why so far from home? They're native to the lands across the ocean, I didn't think they even liked our climate! I'd sure like to get a glimpse, I've heard they have the most beautiful coloring."
"Well that brings us to the other troubles of the wider world: Meleagris is no more, the entire country has been reduced to ash."
"How?! Why? I mean, good riddance to those scum, but who could possibly-"
"Dragons. They were hunting DRAGONS and paid the price. It's speculated that the Akkadian fled from them and ended up here. Unfortunately it seems to be an adolescent, and petulant at that."
"Those damned fools. Venevia is a better place without those gold hungry hounds though, rumor has it they were mercenaries in the invasion all those years ago, so all the more joy at their demise."
"Much happens beyond our little town in the wilds. We'll see how it affects us in time."
"Yes, one way or another, we shall see."
*******
Valdus and Mernaught chatted on a handful of other menial topics while the boys worked and until the goliath left with a wave. Valdus made for the cottage then, looking over his shoulder at his sons.
"Finish packing up, I'm going to fetch my things and bring your mother to say goodbye."
The two hastily obeyed and waited impatiently after. When their mother arrived she embraced both and kissed Valdus before they departed, to which both boys comedically retched. The woman smiled sweetly as her husband held her and lovingly stroked her cheek, a fresh wind fluttering her blouse and tussling her dark hair.
They exited the fields of the property southwest of the town Bramblebrook and headed west along the road. Valdus lead them at an easy pace, the weather pleasant. A train was pulling up to the platform at the southwest end of town, the station outside the wooden walls that surrounded Bramblebrook proper. Colrath watched the mechanical marvel with wonder as in rolled in, the low thrumming of its massive Gaiastone engine still reaching them.
"What'll we be hunting, da? Elk, boar?" Colrath implored as they left the road and entered into the edges of the forest, the younger boy leading shaggy Bern as they passed the treeline. Little underbrush grew that far north and so they were free to make their own path among the mighty Weyawood trees and the fairy creatures that flitted in the shade of branches far above and behind trunks and roots nearer the group. Funny little things scurried from sight, never quite distinct enough for Colrath to describe but still cheerful to catch a glimpse of.
"Peace, boy," Valdus replied, shaking his head, "We will look for what fresh signs we may find and track whichever beast offers itself as our prize."
"I hope it's boar!" Bulverk added, "Ma makes the best food from boar. And BACON!"
"Aye, bacon!" piped Colrath.
Their father laughed and waved his hand dismissively.
"Well, be it deer, goat, elk, boar, or none at all, we shall see in time."
*******
The trio traveled for several hours under the enormous and iron-hard trees the Weyawood forest was named for, dancing little wisps of light teasing them along the way. Small critters watched intelligently just out of view, never quite hidden but never in focus. The boys carried heavy-pull short bows crafted from the branches of young Weyawood at the ready, their well-muscled arms aptly trained to draw down the taut strings. Colrath watched his brother nearly as closely as he did the trees, eager to best the elder boy and bag the first prize of the trip. They walked on either side of Bern while Valdus lead the ox casually along the natural path around the tall roots of the massive trees, gnarled things that dived from chest height into the earth around them. Wisps sang indistinctly around the base of the trees and swirled in and out of view as the group went along.
A soft fluttering of large wings drew Colrath's attention from the mystical things, Bulverk alert to the sound as they both notched arrows skyward in an instant, but Valdus ushered them quietly to lower their aim. A sweet song echoed down from a pair of majestic birds with brilliant plumage.
"Easy now boys, those are Orrinspa," explained their father in a low and reverent voice. Colrath marveled at the creatures, one with a dark blue head and broad neck feathers that fluffed like a mane, dark blue down to its tail feathers and halfway down its wings. The other matched its pattern but was white instead of blue and either sported a pink chest that turned turquoise at the belly, a transition repeated on the wings to the tips. Long and gently curved beaks opened to cry together a slow and moving duet that flowed magically in the air to fall like a warm mist over the boy, sense of peace easing through them all.
"I've never seen, never heard anything like it," the boy wondered aloud, head craned to stare into the high canopy.
"Just a couple of dumb birds," mumbled Bulverk while still staring intently, and Colrath frowned.
"More than that son, much more," Valdus corrected, "those are magical beings said to portend the future with the sound of their songs. This sweet sound is supposed to mean that all will be well for those who hear it. Were the tune mournful we would take it as a bad omen. See how they're different colors? The blue is the male, and the white female. Their species mates for life; they'll always be together."
"Like you and ma!" piped Colrath.
"Yes, like your mother and me, forever. Though I daresay she doesn't mind these opportunities to have us out of her hair for a while to get some reading done!"
The pair above nestled against one another and continued a song that followed the Haldorsons as they continued along the way, a smile on each of their faces. Even Bern seem to step lighter, Colrath and Bulverk patting the beast kindly.
*******
A glittering inky ocean loomed above a swath of leaves swaying gently in the night, and the branches of those leaves gave way to a small clearing upon a gentle hill, a transition from the Weyawood monoliths to smaller hardwoods lighted by campfire.
Young Colrath reclined against his pack near the low burning flames, lattice-lain logs glowing orange on the bottoms as eager plasmic tongues licked up the edges and leapt free into the night toward the jewels above. The boy smiled as Valdus shared with his boys stories of adventuring days long past, his days in the army and of various foes and fantastic beasts. Bern snoozed standing with easy breaths tethered at the edges of the camp.
Stick in hand, Colrath doodled images from his father's tales in the dirt while chewing merrily on deer jerky, brimming with self-satisfaction. It was his great pride to have claimed the first kill of their expedition, a simple grouse. Bulverk and Valdus together took three quail soon after, sure, and Valdus did caution that it was unwise to concern themselves with hunting such small and solitary game outside of their daily needs instead of what could provide continuously over the winter months, but the freshly proven boy still held his pride.
"Da, I wish to be a great soldier like you were when I'm a man," Colrath announced at the conclusion of a story about a pack of rabid camigor encountered in an abandoned mine, "I want to go on grand adventures and fight monsters and be a hero like you!"
A sad sort of smile touched Valdus' lips, though his eye still shone and chest still swelled with pride. The firelight flittered on his hard countenance and animated the surrounding wood with wavering shadow that enhanced his severity.
"I suppose it's time enough for you both to hear this..." he started as he leaned forward and adopted a serious tone, nearly reluctant to Colrath's ear, "It's important to understand the truth of the world, of the life I've lived. Being a soldier is more than just the glory I've chosen to tell you about as you've grown, and perhaps it was a mistake to paint those tales so rosy. The way of a warrior is often serious and grim work, it's a life that comes with trials that will haunt you for all your days. There are many regrets that weigh on my heart, my boys."
"I swear I can handle it da!" Colrath interrupted, nearly pleading with wide and eager eyes, "I can train harder, I can work to be the absolute best there ever was, I practice everything you show me ten times as much as Bulverk and he's three winters ahead!"
Bulverk grunted but kept a concerned eye on Valdus.
"Aye, my boy, I don't doubt your tenacity," Valdus grinned, nodding, "but what I'm saying means much more than any training or skill can account for, though both will surely serve you well if you take that path. I mean that there will always be things beyond your abilities, beyond any control, situations you will experience and have to deal with however you may."
He drew in a deep breath then, a sense of unwillingness and even sadness puzzling rowdy Colrath. Valdus looked to the stars above, muted by the glowing flames, as he collected his thoughts and then proceeded.
"I have seen the loss of men and women who I served with, my friends, my brothers and sisters, to nothing less than the unavoidable twists of fate. Your life, as a warrior, is ever at the risk of chance. A stray arrow or crossbow bolt, the lucky stab in a desperate fight, a crushing boulder heaved by an unseen giant, or even a sudden fall in the mountains because of loose footing. Too many times I've lost comrades to either violent ends or random chance, people I've trusted and laughed with, shared meals and time with whose families I've known and loved. And worse still are the things the duties of a soldier can bring you to find, tasks that can turn the hardest man's stomach inside out. I've been to bolster villages suffering raids from the borderland marauders, streets littered with the dead, enemies mixed in a mess of the men, women, and even children left to rot in the sun."
Colrath's innocent exuberance twisted into concern and confusion as Valdus spoke, and when the man finished the boy felt an unnatural cold icy in his veins despite the fire. His head spun, the heroic dream shattered. Colrath looked to Bulverk and saw the older boy masking horror. Valdus cast his gaze down and sighed.
"That is the truth of it, my sons, and not nearly the worst. There is glory and honor to be won, but equal parts despair, and I don't wish such pains upon either of you. Nay, if I could wish for anything it would be a world of peace for you to thrive in."
Silence reigned for several long minutes and Colrath brooded heavily, so much so that Valdus began to watch him with some concern. After a while the boy took a deep breath, began to speak but faltered for just a moment then managed a summary of his thoughts.
"I'll become the greatest warrior who ever lived," Colrath announced with effort, his fists clenching through his solemn decree, "I'll work harder than anyone has ever before and I'll never let anyone die, I'll get so strong that I can keep them all safe no matter what."
Valdus chuckled with amused admiration and set a fresh log across the fire. Bulverk snorted derisively and shook his head mumbling something unclear to Colrath but the tone was condescending enough to understand.
"A noble intent, my son, but you can't hope to protect everyone in the chaos that is warfare, nor can you account for and prevent things beyond you reach and knowledge. Tragedy and death are inevitable, you can only hope to fight your hardest live your noble best, protecting who and what you can and learn to accept the rest when it comes."
"No!" refuted Colrath, eyes glistening and brow deeply creased, "I know I could do it! I could be like King Bensaul the Everslayer!"
"Even the king has lost people he cared for and tried to protect," his father cautioned, "good king Raphael, his predecessor and friend, for example."
"You can't even beat me in more than half our spars!" laughed Bulverk, "how can you expect to compare to the king, to be the greatest warrior in Ragnaheim, a kingdom filled with the greatest fighters in all of Venavia?"
"I can do it," Colrath insisted in a lower tone, gaze cast down to the dirt.
"Not me, I'm going to work the farm, join the Bramblebrook militia, find a pretty gal, and the build a house of my own," claimed Bulverk with confidence.
"I'm sure you'll both make me proud, of that I have no doubt," assured Valdus, "and who knows what could happen, Colrath, maybe one day you break through to a higher threshold of power and match the mightiest of warriors, like the king."
"'Threshold of power?'" repeated Colrath inquisitively, "What does that mean?"
"Well, a long time ago a group of minds wiser than my own found a way to categorize the different levels of might that exist in the worlds," answered Valdus as he churned ash with a stick and rolled a burning log into a better position, "There are five thresholds, and each of the first four have five levels of power, the lowest being the most average example of those that fall most naturally into that threshold and the highest the most mighty among them. For example, in the first threshold you find typical mortals and at the highest level are the most prestigious warriors and athletes. The second threshold belongs to goliaths and giants, as well as magical beings like mages and witches, powerful monsters, and mortals who have tapped into the Cascade and were changed by it in such a way that they transcend their physical limitations and become something more, and there are many heroes and villains in countless stories who have done so. Threshold three holds the power of demons, vampires, dramaron, and sorcerers, and no few of the more terrible creatures of the world. The fourth is where you find dragons and the most powerful of all living things, most unimaginable and incomprehensible in terms of strength. The fifth threshold is beyond anything you or I can even begin to fathom, the power of the Spirits and Sovereign."
"Whoa," Bulverk blurted, seeming a bit overwhelmed. Colrath, however, was more enthusiastic than ever.
"How high can humans reach, da? I want to be as strong as a dragon!"
"Ha!" laughed Valdus, shaking his head, "I hate to dash your dreams, but unless you become an all powerful sorcerer or some vile demon puppet of the Sovereign it's not likely you'll reach much further than the middle ranges of the second threshold, and even then you'll have to push harder than you can even imagine, face unconventional stress and circumstance so severe even most stalwart people break. It is a rare feat to reach such heights."
"I can do it, da, I know I can!" Colrath insisted, tense as he stared through the fire at his father, the flame alive in his eyes a wild on their faces, "If I'm strong enough I can keep those things you said from happening to anyone else!"
Valdus could only smile at his ambitious son's naivety and nod appreciative of his good will. They sat silent again for a short while, and a thought occurred to Valdus that he then shared with his sons, eager to change the subject.
"You know, many of these old Weyawood very well may hold the remains of our ancestors."
"Really?" gasped Colrath, wide-eyed again as he stared around, "How? I thought all of our family planted their dead with the Weyaseeds in the northlands beyond our farm, or in the ancestral wood north of the Bramblebrook."
Bulverk laughed while smirking, suddenly superior.
"Where do you think we came from before Bramblebrook, dummy?"
Colrath blushed as he scrunched up his face, sour and suddenly aware of his own ignorance. Valdus cut stern eyes at Bulverk and shook his head.
"Your rude brother is correct," Valdus put in, scratching his beard as he gazed around them at the orange lit edges, "though our people now live on settled land, our predecessors, and even many surviving tribes today, roamed the land as nomads and began most of the same traditions we still keep, most notably the idea that we come from, are nurtured by, and must return to and sustain the same land we toil upon. And so our people, unlike much of the middle and southern regions of the kingdom, still bury our dead with the Weyaseed, which is then fertilized by and absorbs our remains as they grow. We mark the trees in modern times, but that was not always the case and it is not unheard of for a settler to go through the gargantuan effort of felling a steely old Weyawood only to find the misshapen bones of some long dead nomad"
"You think there could be old bones and ghosts in THESE trees?" Colrath asked hesitantly, more spooked than he dared show Bulverk.
"There are surely some around that grow with old remains, but of ghosts you have naught to fear, for the Lady ferries all without fail," Valdus told them both, Bulverk's unease equal to Colrath's but only visible to their father, "But that's enough talk, it's past time for you boys to get to sleep. We rise with the sun, I'll take first watch, the Bulverk, then Colrath."
The youngest Haldorson tossed his drawing stick into the fire and rose to spread out on his bedroll, thoughts dark with the injustices and horrors of the world and touched by a growing desire to protect others. He drifted off to the crackling of the campfire slowly dying down, aspirations of altruism and acclaim guiding dreams of glory that were visited by the pale specter of a lady whose words were music and eyes shone light the midnight sky under an aurora.
*******
A firm jostle and a hand over his mouth woke Colrath abruptly. Bulverk appeared against the pitch night, a finger to his lips as he leaned in close to his brother. The elder had short sword in hand and shoved Colrath's hatchet and round shield into his arms.
The boy stood without question as he armed himself and found his father crouched by the dead fire pit as he stared into the woods. Sky still dark, Colrath gleamed from the position of the stars that it was roughly halfway through his brother's shift. Bulverk put a hand on Colrath's shoulder and lips to his ear.
"Goblins," was the hissing whisper, and Colrath's every muscle tensed, weariness eradicated in an instant. The pair edged closer to Valdus in a silent crouch, weapons at the ready, Colrath's heart drumming. Bern fidgeted while snorting fearfully, eyes wide as his nostrils filled with a wicked scent. Colrath worried the beast may bolt in a fray, the loyal creature only loosely secured. The anxiety grew with every moment, all the little sounds of nature deceptively thunderous and threatening.
The tension snapped with a crash of breaking branches and rustling underbrush as near a dozen snarling little monsters slipped from the shadows! They whooped nasty war-cries and brandished wickedly crude short swords and maces as they bore down in an assault on the three Ragnakind!
Valdus leapt to meet their charge without pause, his longsword singing through the air to hew open the lead and behead the next on a spinning followthrough. He dropped low to clash with a third, a surprising stout and strong specimen. The boys snapped from a moment of terror-filled uncertainty, spurred by the father's action, and took his flanks in to aid, to FIGHT! Bulverk stabbed and Colrath hacked, taking the creature's leg and toppling it. Valdus leapt over it to meet the next, Bulverk trailing, but the last still thrashed. Colrath instinctively struck, as taught, to finish the fiend, and a wave of discord flooded through him, much different that what he felt in a hunt. The world around him slowed, his body suddenly light and unfamiliar. Behind them, Bern wailed and stomped a clamorous mess they could not break to address.
Together the father and sons held against the rest, Colrath shuddering under blows that rang heavily against his shield. The boy pushed back an assailant and buried his hatchet with a chop into the collarbone of a shadowed figure, black blood spurting to glisten sickly in the starlight. Another foe hopped in to slam Colrath's shield and tumble him over on his back. Nausea and fear threatened his resolve but adrenaline and instinct overwhelmed the gravity of the dangerous situation.
Colrath struggled as the creature sought the kill, but an enraged growl preceded Valdus as his sundered the nasty beast and beat back the next. He and Bulverk blocked the way and put down another while Colrath scrambled back to his feet and shield-checked the next assailant that rushed in to attack, knocked within reach of Valdus' mercilessly plunging blade. The trio formed up and glanced feverishly about for the next, but found none.
"There was another!" spat Valdus as he whipped about and spun to discern the egress of the last goblin, edging nearer the woods. Colrath hefted his hatchet, back to back with Bulverk, electric energy tingling his skin, senses aflame. Several pounding heartbeats passed without sight or sound while Valdus circled the camp. Colrath remained tensely coiled, intuition screaming of danger, but Bulverk was less vigilant.
"The coward ran off," sighed the elder boy, his posture gone slack as he stepped from his brother and breathed deeply. In that instant the last of the goblins shot from the opposite end of the camp from Valdus to strike at the unwary boy. A husky voice tore through the night with a wailing and desperate cry that was punctuated by a wet and resounding crack of steel on bone! Colrath sprang across the distance and intercepted the enemy, hatched buried full wedge into its skull.
Colrath trembled in awe, his actions in that moment unconscious; he attacked without a thought! Tears streamed down his face, and he wiped them away without any clue as to why they fell, his hold on the stuck hatchet released as he angry sniffled over his emotional state. Bulverk stood in stunned and staring at the dead thing that meant to kill him. Valdus rushed to Colrath and knelt before him, grasped him about the shoulders and forced the boy's gaze to match his loving own.
"My brave boy, you may just grow to be the hero of your dreams after all," Valdus told him, relief and pride flowing out to hearten him as the man reached for Bulverk and brought him in for a hug, "You were both so very brave tonight, and fought so much better than I could claim at your age. I'm so proud of you both, and so thankfuk you're alright. By what damnable Sovereign where these wretches driven, I've never heard of any of their sorry kind so bold!"
The laughed in an exhausted way and then disengaged to rebuild the fire, each very much awake. Their mirth renewed when Colrath made to tend to their ox, the stalwart friend.
"Bern did his part too!" the boy shouted grimly, pointing to reveal the gored and trampled remains of another pair of foul goblins, their green rot flesh and black blood all too clear in the light even near Bern, stressed and pacing as he flicked his tail and bucked his head at the corpses.
Valdus dragged the bodies away from their camp while the boys settled Bern and cleaned up. The pair stopped a moment to clasp arms, and Bulverk thanked Colrath with an appreciative nod and smile. Colrath responded with a hard look and a harder tone.
"I told you," he spoke in a measured tone that belied his discontentment, "I will be the bravest and the best warrior in all the land. I'll be better than I was tonight. I'll never stop, I won't fall like that again."
Bulverk was silent, but watched his younger brother with no small concern for some time after.
*******
The Haldoson trio returned home days later with two deer and three turkeys hanging from Bern's satchels, ambling up the drive on a sunny day. Thora rushed down the laneway to meet them and frowned at the strange demeanor of her youngest son, his face still troubled. He saw her worry and turned away.
"Whatever is wrong, my little badger?" she begged sweetly as she softly touched his cheek and tried to turn his eyes to her own.
"Ah, nothin ma," he insisted and pulled away. Valdus hastily recounted the ordeal and Thora insisted that both boys answer as to their own wellbeing.
"We're FINE ma!" insisted Bulverk with an eye-roll, "Those smelly freaks had no chance against us, right Colrath?"
"Not a one," the younger answered with a low snarl, "evil little monsters... they deserved to die."
"Colrath!" Thora gasped, "I've never heard such venom in you voice, by the Spirits! What is in your head boy, how can I help?"
She tried to pull him closer but the boy wiggled free with a groan.
"Nothing ma, I'm fine! I swear it!"
"Alright, let it be for now," interrupted Valdus with a hand on Thora's shoulder and a pleading look, "Boys, I need to speak to your mother a moment, go unpack Bern and put him to pasture. Get along!"
"Yes da!" the boys answered in unison, and the pair lead the furry fellow along as it nudged Bulverk for pats. Colrath tried to ignore the concerned way Thora watched them go, but Bulverk took full notice as he scratched the ox behind his ears.
"Ah, mama's boy all grumped up," he teased as they entered the barnyard and hitched Bern up, "I think she'll have baby all swaddled up with his milk before the day is out!"
To Bulverk's astonishment, Colrath ignored his provocations and set quickly to work untying their game and dragged each carcass to the barn entrance for Valdus to hook and clean. Bulverk picked at him with a few more quips but Colrath only met him with a level stare.
"You gonna joke all day or help me get the work done?"
"Depends, will you still do it in either case?" Bulverk smirked, but Colrath simply turned away, "Sourpuss..."
Bulverk grumbled as he unburdened the ox and after Colrath lead the animal out to graze in the fields adjacent the barnyard, the solemn boy parting ways with a hug around its face before it lumbered off to join its brethren, mooing loudly to announce his triumphant return.
Colrath leaned forward against the wooden fence rails, arms hanging over a slat, and stared out across grass speckled with violet flowers. Stormy thoughts showed heavy on his face, battering his focus with winds of worry. The fight replayed in his mind endlessly: flashes of death witnessed and delivered, the peril that so nearly claimed both boys, his moment of helplessness. No longer did he feel brave or mighty. His father was right, at any moment his life could face the threat of uncountable dangers, dangers too great to face at his level.
"I have to start now," he said to nobody at all, his small voice hard, hard enough to hide his fear. He left the pasture and jogged to the house to find Valdus in his porch chair, boots off and pipe in hand, a pungent and heavy smoke swirling up from the deep bowl of the elaborately craved piece.
"Da, I want to train, harder than before. I want to get stronger and learn to fight like you do."
Valdus sat up and raised a concerned eyebrow, shook his head, and chuckled softly, almost sadly. Confusion and frustration began to rise in the boy seeing that.
"All in good time, my son. You'll get there, and soon enough I imagine. If you keep this enthusiasm you'll certainly surpass me one day."
"Can we start now?" Colrath begged, his tone near desperation.
"NOW? Son, we JUST returned and have other matters this evening, like cleaning game and enjoying your ma's fine cooking again. Rest up and calm your nerves, it does you no good to train weary and wound up."
The boy nodded glumly, jaw clenched as he wandered out behind the home. Hatchet at his side, he unbuckled the weapon and again replayed that troublesome night. After a few runs at the imaginary marauders, he summoned up more in his mind's eye, or the same in different ways, obsessed with every way he could fail as he struggled to compensate for and surpass his shortcomings. He found that failure would be his many more times than he could hope for victory, and so his anxiety grew.
The sky darkened as the purples, blues, and shimmering black passed overhead, and the stars found him drained and distracted. Soon after night settled he ate, washed, and was off to an uneasy slumber.
*******
Chipped wooden swords clacked off one another under a bright sun in the yard beside the Haldorson home. Colrath rushed his brother across low grass, swiping rabidly as the bigger boy skipped back and smacked each strike away, hard pressed but handling the offensive well. Too well for Colrath's liking.
"More control, Colrath!" Valdus instructed, arms crossed as he watched from the shade, "Don't just madly attack and hope to overwhelm him, you know better than that! That sort of tactic seldom works they way you'd hope."
As if to make his father's point, Bulverk seized upon the moment of an overzealous followthrough to close in with an overhead strike. The younger boy yelped and executed a rear roll that had him up and on the defensive with a warding cut that nearly caught Bulverk in the face. The pair exchanged several more swipes until Colrath caught Bulverk hard in the ribs. The elder cried out and hunched angrily, and both heaved labored breaths, but Colrath stayed at the ready, eyes sharp with deadly focus.
"I don't want to do this anymore!" growled Bulverk, "I'm already a great fighter, and Colrath is taking this way too seriously! Spirits, I don't even LIKE to fight!"
"Come on!" insisted the younger Haldorson boy, "We MUST get stronger, it's our duty as Ragnakind, to ourselves and our people!"
"That's enough, Colrath," Valdus spoke firmly as he met them in the grass, "if your brother is satisfied with himself, what right do you have to push him? You've done plenty today, it's been a whole morning of sparring. You need a break, you should both wash up and get ready for lunch."
"But I want to train!" Colrath insisted, "Please, da, you and me! Let's spar, if I practice with you I'm sure to get better faster!"
Valdus shook his head but seemed to laugh despite himself. Eagerness twinkled in Colrath's amber eyes and the boy, though feeling the strain of his exertions, remained bold and filled with vigor.
"Very well, one good round, I'll take everything you've got left, son. Let's go."
Valdus took the sword from Bulverk and squared off with Colrath in a defensive posture. The boy's heart quickened its pace and his head almost spun. He swallowed hard, steeled his nerve, and dashed at his father. He fainted left and rushed right to snap confident strikes as skillfully as he knew how in an effort to beat past Valdus' easy defenses. The patriarch entertained his son's efforts a while then ended the fight with a brief offense that tore the blade from the boy's hand in a twisting motion and left a painful bruise across his gut, his father somehow disarming, striking, and moving behind him in what seemed like one single blurred motion.
"You did quite well, boy," Valdus congratulated, "your skill is already at the level of a freshly trained soldier, you far outmatch anyone else your age I've heard of, for certain!"
"As good as a rookie?" complained Colrath, sulking as he rubbed his stomach, kneeling in pain, "That's no good at all! I want better skills and techniques, anything you'll show me da, please! How did you move like that, how can I learn that?"
"No more, that was the deal. Over-eagerness is not a virtue. You need to reflect on today, what you gained, where you failed, and look forward to applying those insights to tomorrow's efforts, whatever they may be. That's as true for any part of life as it is for fighting."
The youth, pale and ragged, shook his head defiantly while Bulverk stared in disbelief as he retrieved the sword
"But-"
"ENOUGH. You try my patience, son. Look at you, barely standing, you struggle to hold the sword. You're done. Both of you, inside and wash up, NOW."
His stern tone snapped them up and together they hurried around the back of the home and through the rear door.
"What in all the hells is your problem, you gone crazy or something?" Bulverk prodded as they pulled off their boots, "It's like you're all scared now. Huh chicken, is that it? Little ole goblins spooked ya bad?"
"Shut up," Colrath snarled as he shoved past his brother. A mask of furrowed frowns hid his face throughout the afternoon and evening during dinnner and beyond. Thora met him at bed time in his room while Valdus lingered in the doorway.
"My sweet boy, I understand your desire to improve," Thora assured him from her seat at the foot of his bed with a kind smile, "But you need to be better about your discipline."
"But it's my discipline that pushes me to improve!" Colrath insisted, squirming crosslegged atop his blankets.
"Perhaps, my son," Valdus said, "but you have develop ill notions of discipline. A true warrior's discipline includes patience, he knows the value of recovery and reflection. Is it the wild warrior who only swings his sword with abandon and ruins its edge with dents and rust, or the diligent warrior who takes the time to oil and sharpen his weapon who is most admirable?"
"Your father is right, my badger boy," added Thora as she ruffled her son's hair, "he knows more than a thing or two about it, after all. Why seek his guidance and then ignore it? How very foolish you can be, so stubborn!"
"A true warrior..." Colrath mumbled, staring off for a moment, "I... yes ma. Thank you, da, sorry for not listening before. I will try to be patient, I swear it."
"That's my strong handsome little man," Thora cooed with a kiss. They said their goodnights and each were off to bed. Colrath's eagerness to grow, to improve, would remain strong and the coming days, weeks, months, and years would find him toiling ceaselessly toward that end as he developed into a fine fighter and a proud young man.