Trail of Tears

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. As the storm clouds blushed in the dawn's light the lizards in the sky scoured the Fallen Kingdom seeking to destroy all who survived the night. From the High Mountain in the North they came, the rock that spears the sky. Titans of Erok, they crossed the wasteland and in their deathfire they announce the light of day. Nothing survives a dragon.

From peak to peak, a ghostly trail split the sky in two. White mountains bordered the Valley, dyed scarlet from the red clouds of noon, for the South was a wide passageway into the open plains. High up on the ice cave, a man stood frozen.

Vile winds screamed at him but he didn't flinch. A ragged hood concealed his blistered, burnt face. Straps of fur covered him. The forsaken wasteland beneath his feet. He watched the monsters in the distant horizon. The detached greyness of a man who had watched the world turn.

He never made a sound, and because of that the burnt man had many different names from many different people. He pulled his pelt around him, braced against the stinging wind that howled at him and screamed in his face. He knew they were looking for him. He knew they would find him. It wasn't always like this. There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

Long ago there reigned here a tribe that lived among trees. Everything they needed would spring from the soil. Now the land is covered in snow, but once, when the Firmament shone with the light of a thousand suns, the young Moon danced among them gleefully. The animals of the night could be heard crying for her, as she lit up the forests and peaks in her moonlight.

Now the Moon cries. Like an ice serpent, her Trail of Tears stretches bleak across the night sky. And in her devastation she locked the Firmament away. Day and night the icy winds battle the land. Days are short and grey. Night time is a long wait in the pitch black for the red light of dawn. This is the price, that the Children of Erok had to pay.

For those men and women that lived before the frost came had hoarded secrets from their neighbours. Secrets that had angered the Gods.

The High Mountain's snowy peak loomed over the fuzzy green hills of the Great Forest. Her watery veins fed into the land and her thick roots travelled long. A giant shadow covered the valleys of the North, where the Men of the North dwelt among the pines.

Pale skinned with pointed faces were the Men of the North. Dark of hair and eye. They had inhabited the shadow of High Mountain for a few centuries. They had inhabited its peaks for millennia before. The Tarra, they called themselves. The Tarra were strong and resistant to the cold. They were also very patient, good at setting traps and fishing for trout.

To the Southern horizon, the mountain's hulking veins died down and gave way to the Deep Forest, where war had been waged for a thousand years. Black haired and green eyed were the Men of the South. Tor'Alk, they were called. Natives once, they had faced annihilation at the hands of nomadic invaders. After causing a great flood, they gradually interbred and lost their ancestry and traditions. "Nobody sleeps safe in the Deep Forest" was an age-old saying.

To the South of the High Mountain, an expansive valley gleamed in the sunlight. From peak to peak the land flushed green and the trees grew giant here. Black haired and yellow eyed were the Alka, and they had inhabited the Valley since the dawn of time. An elusive people with a fondness for being hidden. The night vision of an Alkadian was exceptional. An old proverb kept the warring tribes at a distance:

"To the Men from the Valley, night time is as day."

Once, all of the Great Forest was Alkadian, but since the First Songs, the land had rippled and cracked. Tribes of Erok did not wish to share the forest with them, but the very land they walked upon, was rich with the blood and bones of the ancient Alka.

Oppressed by natural disaster and war, the Tor'Alk had pushed North into Alkadia where they met fierce resistance. It was a time of war, when the boy was born, in the Alkadian village of Shib'Hellek.

Beneath the Winter moonlight villagers crowded in to the Temple of Birth. High priestesses lifted the child high and blessed him by the light of the stars. The boy was named Bar'Lek.

The boy distinguished himself and caught the attention of the village folk. Bar'Lek could see and talk to spirits like the ancients could. Three times had the village sent out search parties to try to find little Bar'Lek. Each time, the boy returned with stories from the Ancestors.

Bar'Lek was nicknamed "Orb-Chaser" and this nickname stuck. In ages past, everyone could see the spirits, and to see an orb or fairy was a daily occurrence. The world had darkened since then, however the ancient world had been immortalised in Alkadian songs. Little Orb-Chaser was a revered child. Sooner or later, the other clans would know about him.

The war raged on. Villages burnt, innocents put to the knife. War parties ambushed in the dead of night, but the Sons of the Valley had overwhelmed the invaders from the South. Word spread like wildfire and it was not long before every corner of the Great Forest knew of the war in the Valley.

The Priestesses of Alkadia, ageless, with hair down to their knees, had tracked the events that would occur in the near future. They listened to the streams and they watched the waters. They conversed with the Moon and the stars, and found their answer.

Bar'Lek was ten summers old, and was no stranger to himself. Alone, the small boy wandered the forest. Bar'Lek's mother had told him to remain in the village. Bar'Lek and the Ancestors joked about it. Bar'Lek cried when his mother shouted at him, but he smiled again when her mother held his hand. The living seldom understood the young boy, but the dead always understood him. They showed him hidden paths that lead to magical places.

"Nobody understands me. They just get angry at everything that I do." Bar'Lek explained his tears and launched a pebble at a tree.

"Pray not, my son, for a life of ease. Pray for the fruit of its hardness, for all is part of a greater order."

Standing over the anguished child, was Bar'Lek's father. He hadn't been there to watch him being born beneath the Winter moonlight. He was fighting. He hadn't been there to teach him to hunt or to fight. He was fighting. On his journey back North, an arrow shot from a Tor'Alk bow struck him through the ribcage and stapled him to the floor. In life, he never knew Bar'Lek. In death, he was one of his greatest friends.

It was a hot midsummer day. Twenty-one Alkadian Guards arrived at the little village of Shib'Hellek. A shield of bronze hung from each of their shoulders. Braided hair touched their waistline, with beards down to their belly.

"The Priestesses of the Moon Temple have summoned the one you call the Orb-Chaser." the Guard said to the High Priestess of Shib'Hellek.

She pondered this before she answered. "The permission you seek is given, yet be warned, the child is of two worlds, and these two worlds do not always see the same light."

The Guard thought on this. "The boy is gifted. He must serve Alkadia as with the rest of us."

Her answer was almost spring loaded. "He will always serve two kingdoms."

For two nights the Guards dwelt among the villagers of Shib'Hellek, until the boy returned from his latest trip. He knew that they came to take him away, but was curious as to why.

Bar'Lek walked undetected through the village. The one he had to deal with first was his mother. And he knew that she would be a whirlwind of emotion. She didn't notice him until he was ready to be noticed.

"Bar'Lek you are the fire and acid in my veins." She spoke through her teeth, crushing him in her arms and wetting his black hair with her tears.

"Didn't the Sage tell you that I'm okay?"

"Stop it!" she squeezed him breathless before giving him the standard war-time-lecture. It tested Bar'Lek's patience but he stomached it. Bar'Lek had learned that mothers are the victors of debates. And he knew many.

A tasty feast was shared by the roaring of the fire. Flutes sounded in the air in enchanting notes. At dawn, the young boy was sent away with the twenty-one warriors. They took the ancient path that lead North by the winding river, and by nightfall of the second day they were halfway up the High Mountain, where the white walls of the Moon Temple overlooked the Valley. A storm brewed in the horizon.

Women dressed in gleaming silver robes came around him and lay hands upon his shoulders in sacred greeting. The guards were not allowed to enter this temple, for their lives had been devoted to the art of war. Bar'Lek followed the Priestesses inside.

One of them reached out and tipped a small pot of blessed rainwater onto his brow. It trickled down over his face and soothed Bar'Lek's spirit, as he awaited the leader of the temple.

The arched doorway rattled with beads and gemstones. The women retreated as the High Priestess entered. Walking clockwise around the temple she bowed in all four directions, before turning her attention to the boy stood in the middle of the room.

"You are the one that found the hidden path. You are the one that walked through the Green Gate." the High Priestess greeted him with her hand on her heart.

Bar'Lek knew the place of which the woman spoke. Two brothering oak trees stood shoulder to shoulder, clothed in green moss. In between them was a dark tunnel. Visible from the front, but non-existent from behind. Men and women from times long forgotten still lived and breathed beyond the Green Gate, where they danced to songs of old and shared wisdom with the child.

"How do you know about this place?" the boy was intrigued and afraid. The Ancient Ones that shared in stories with Bar'Lek, had done so on the vow of secrecy.

"The Green Gate which you found was one of many. They are hidden from the world of Man. The garden beneath the blue sky I too have dwelt in. The strange men of ages far past, I have conversed with them as well."

"It's my secret." Bar'Lek said, defeated. Once, he tried to lie to a High Priestess and without a word she had turned her back, roasting the young boy in silent shame. If a Sage wishes you to feel an emotion, she has a way to deliver it.

The High Priestess of the Moon Temple smiled down at him. "A secret entrusted also to me."

Her lovely smile faded as she spoke again, "Other secrets you choose to keep."

"What's that?"

"Where your true loyalty lies." Her deep yellow eyes now lanced the boy's soul and petrified him. Bar'Lek gazed back, not by his will but hers.

"You walk with the dead and not with the living."

Bar'Lek answered back, "As do you."

She circled him slowly. "It is not the Kingdom of the Dead that will meet with the Kingdom of the Living. It is the Kingdom of the Living that will meet the dead."

She stopped walking and looked at him again. Now her voice had a crack through it. "Night time has entered into our future."

The High Priestess of the Moon Temple stooped low to meet Bar'Lek eye to eye. Her hair brushed the floor.

"The Valley is weakened and our enemy knows it. Alkadia is at a cross road." She spoke loudly and clearly, unblinking into Bar'Lek's yellow eyes.

"What are we going to do?" He asked her, lost inside of her amber soul.

"The world reviles the Alka. We have different customs, from a different time when the hills were still young. Because of this, they have plagued us from every single direction."

Bar'Lek found it hard to listen to people, but he took in every word that left this woman's mouth.

"We can save our people, Bar'Lek. We can lead them through the hidden path and into the Green Gate."

"I cannot do it." Bar'Lek did not think, he just said it, and braced himself for her storm. A moment that lasted an age before she sighed and looked away, standing straight once more. That's when the storm came. Not in the way that Bar'Lek was used to. He was thinking of home. The people who he loved. Bar'Lek cracked on the spot and his eyes just flickered.

War party after war party showering flesh with bow and arrow, razing villages to the ground. The blood. The complete annihilation. Children laying dead on the floor. Bar'Lek just watching. His mother lying in a clump on the ground.

The High Priestess didn't look back at him during his vision. She too, was in pain. Her lips started to tremble beneath the weight. When she turned back around to Bar'Lek, they both had tears in their eyes.

"I am so sorry." She said to him. "No child should have to witness the-"

”Your meddling will summon a terrible curse beyond the might of spears and lances.”

Her eyes admonished him on the spot. That’s when Bar’Lek stumbled and his eyes rolled back.

Great Spirit spoke through him. “Daughter of the Moon and Tides, listen to what my child says. Your prophecy from the sun and stream is a but a glint. Where you walk, you are blessed. Tresspass the Green Gate and the full might of Erok’s curse falls upon you.“

The Priestess watched Bar’Lek’s flickering eyes in disbelief. Bar’Lek then watched her soul.

”That Darkness is a hidden Light, for the end and the beginning sit upon each other. I can see in the dark, because I exist beyond the cycle, but you and the boy do not.”

The woman exploded. ”Why do you forsake my people?” her eyes bathed in streaming tears.

”I will never forsake you. Even when the last temple is shattered in the stinging wind, in a senseless age. Even when the stars go out. I will never forsake you.”

Bar’Lek returned to his mind. The High Priestess dried the sweat off his brow, thanking him for a sound debate. Her tears had dried and colour returned to her face. The Priestesses of the Moon Temple escorted him out where seven guardsmen awaited him. The women saluted him goodbye and all parted in good spirits. By nightfall, Bar’Lek had disappeared.

His mind was a rip tide of chaotic emotion. He walked long into the night and stopped for nothing, until he came to the hidden path. Bar'Lek knew that he must consult the Ancient Ones. He passed through the Gate and told them all about the Priestesses.

"In averting one danger, you will unleash a bigger one. You know this, Bar'Lek."

A council of ancient and legendary heroes sat around him in a beautiful glade. The red sun cast her rays of light about them. They wore fantastic and magical clothes and they glowed in majesty and wisdom.

"In saving the Alka, we will compromise the safety of the whole world. This is no place for mortal men." spoke an Ancient Queen.

"There are dark potentials, boy." The man lifted his head. A great helm shaped like the head of a hawk concealed his eyes. "Some things are not to be meddled with, and that requires calmness. Stillness."

Blech-Sabar, a long forgotten warrior poet with a scar across his forehead stood and placed his hand on the shoulder of Bar'Lek.

"As the world operates through what grows with roots and spores, it too operates through the beasts and man."

"What of those worlds that have fallen?"

"They are alive and not dead."

The Red King rose to his feet and stared down Blech-Sabar. "And what of those dark realms that are sucking their lifeforce away with every passing morning? Where innocents lay slaughtered? Warriors that spend their lives in training, just to be burned in hellfire!"

"Hail." A Guard of the Red King thumped his chest.

Blech-Sabar smiled at the Red King. "As a parasite latches onto a water beast and eats its lifeforce, so too are the planes permitted to operate."

He spoke again, looking from the Red King to Bar'Lek. "You came from a time of great shadow. Even more you, little one. You were born with minds influenced by chaos. So you sunder and you perish before the passage of three centuries. It was not so, in my time.”

"You're using your age to avoid our debate," spoke Bar'Lek. "but the council sit in a circle."

Blech-Sabar looked around. "Let them speak," he said softly.

Gert'Mehed didn't even stand up. "Respecting your elders applies here a hundred-fold." Laughter rose.

The Red King wasn't laughing. He stepped up. "Your descendants are facing obliteration and you sit here and laugh because a young one speaks among men." He walked around the circle and gazed into their souls, one eye leering at them, one eye dead as cement.

"The Destroyer will walk upon Erok." His red cloak shuddered in the wind as his black hair blew. "The Dark Gods will rip through the forest and destroy the last remaining stronghold of our people."

The Ancient King that wore an eagle head had been watching him intently. He snarled and stood up to the Red King. He wore a kilt and was covered in tattoos. "You try to govern us with fear, and in your speech about the Dark Planes..." The Sky King spat on the ground. "You invite chaos and introduce Night." This was his only warning.

The Red King stared down the ancient shaman. "Bazal will rip through the forests of Erok." He spat on the floor and walked up to him. "The Black Gate will ope-"

The Sky King had punched him through the heart. He grabbed it, twisted and tore it from the centre of his chest. The Red King fell.

Bar'Lek was astonished. Gert'Mehed spoke. "Bar'Lek. You know what you need to do."

The Sky King turned to Bar'Lek. "Your spirit calls you to do it."

Bar'Lek spoke angrily, shaking his head, "You are weak to end a debate in such a way, Ancient One."

The Sky King's golden eyes stared him straight. "What is uttered in these chambers echoes long into your world."

Blech-Sabar spoke to Bar’Lek with one eye shut, "Watch your tongue."

Bar’Lek passed back into Erok and began crossing the forest to close shut the Green Gates. The Moon Priestess had a different idea, and even though Spirit spoke to her, she had sent hundreds of Alkadian people through the Green Gate. Chaos unfolded within the Underworld, for the energy that the Ancients had bathed in since the First Songs, was now dilluted beyond redemption. In the midsts of the magical realm, a gateway opened.

Bar’Lek had closed all but one Green Gate on Erok, when the Sundering came. He was twenty-two Summers old. The final Gate bordered the Deep Forest, but no longer was it a gateway to Light. Outside of this portal, Bar’Lek was visited. It was the Ancient Gert’Mehed in the form of a small song bird.

”This is the final gate, Bar’Lek. The Green Fields have fallen. You must close it from the other side, or the Hole opens. This is what is called a Black Gate. Understand this, Bar’Lek, your heart has already been broken, but nothing will prepare you for the horror that you will find in there.”

”If I must be sacrifed to save the realm of Erok, then I will make this sacrifice.”

Gert’Mehed’s little head just tilted and watched the man walk through the darkened trees.

Those were the last words spoken by the Silent Prophet.

So the hooded man stood on the whistling ice cave, overlooking the icy wasteland. Winds pummelling his straps of fur and pelts. His skin blistered beyond recognition. The land had rippled like water since he saw the Dark Lords and turned his back and sprinted. Since the Hole opened.

The Dark Gods came and on the seventh day the Great Forest was a spiked land of ash and charcoal. Three of them there were, the Titans.

Gefrihed, a giant black skeleton with green eyes, rose from the dead those lying in ashes, and those screaming legions lay waste to all that grew.

Mulghamesh, the Beast, scrawled across the ashen carpet on his black claws, followed by his armies of Xyloth, and orcs from a fallen world. The Men of the Forest had no defence against these twisted legions.

They preceded their King. Bazal, the Destroyer, pulled himself from the Hole and his men from the Dark World awaited him in the thousands. Great black horns spanned the width of his hulking figure. He searched the forests to find the Green Gates, but none remained. His eyes raged in green hellfire, and in his green hellfire he destroyed the towns of men.

In his rage he blackened the sky, for what happened next had infuriated the Destroyer.

The bald man with blisters and burns watched the horizon. Green fire lit the tree tops where black clouds hung. Four black crosses swept across the sky.

Something had roused them from their slumber at the world’s icy peak. Bar’Lek had grown up hearing about dragons. Not even the hellfire that dissolved his skin and gave him permanent pain, could prepare him, for the might and even majesty, of seeing a beast the size of a hill, just sailing across the sky.

There were four of them. Titans of Erok. They swept the land and in their deathfire demolished those demonic hordes that had made the world cry. The Dark Lords fought them with ferocity. But all their might, their strength and their magic, failed against the sky beasts as a songbird perishes against a hawk. Lord Bazal fell from the sky like a green meteor, and crashed into a thousand flaming pieces. Mulghamesh was blown apart in deathfire while Gefrihed sprinted for the Black Gate. He did not reach it, and his green flaming bones sprayed across the wasteland, pierced by a tail whip that made the wind gasp.

Bar’Lek fell to his knees, but he would live to witness even greater events. The world was bright, back then. The Moon was young, and she danced among the stars of the night.

Then came a time that even the stars in the sky would be taken away from him. The Silent Prophet was eighty-eight. He had travelled the Valley alone for a long, long time. Death wasn’t given to him. The dragons kept him alive. The trees of the forest never grew back, nor did the grasses. He lived alone on a gigantic black scar. He did not need to eat. Death was not given to him.

But then one night, something that the Priestess never could have predicted. The energy changed in an instant. The Prophet couldn’t cry, nor could he make a sound, but the Moon had been hurt.

Her mouth gaping open, she watched, speechless. Silent witness to the felony from the heavens. For a bolt of white light from across the Void, had blown half her face across the night sky.

The wind stood quietly and the world tensed. The night sky darkened as the world shrank away, widowed in the dead of night.

And so he watches over the Valley, as the years pass, as the skies darken and as the frost comes. The man who let his people die, the man who burns from the inside out. The Night, is just beginning and Dawn is far, far away.

So he watches.