Year: AW 392
Nearly four centuries have passed since the Earth experienced the Great Cataclysm. That event was the single darkest period in recorded history. The human race nearly died out. Only a few small groups of survivors were left. Civilization was utterly destroyed, and people were reduced to scavenging food like rats. No one, not even the most prominent historians, could remember what exactly caused the event, but most people agree that it wasn't a natural disaster. Something, or someone caused it, and all live in fear of reliving the horror their ancestors lived. Nevertheless, life goes on, even in a world torn by destruction. Small communities have flourished, in tune with the wild nature they live in, the nature that grew when it sensed that humanity no longer had a stranglehold on the Earth. These communities, little more than decrepit villages and run-down towns, learned to coexist with the hostile environment that expanded after the fall of man. Nearly all of the world became covered in nature, as it was millennia ago. This story centers around one certain boy who lives in the village of Farside, located near the base of the Dendrow Mountains. These mountains are feared by most, for all in the village believe the Great Cataclysm started in those stone peaks.
Part 1: Rise and Shine
ΘΘΘ
All was quiet in Southside. The dark sky was filled with crystal stars that shimmered as they danced their way west. Night started her domain a candle and a half ago, and dawn was near at hand, with faint light just outlining the peaks of the Dendrow Mountains. Near the edge of the village, though, light already shone through the windows of a smithy, as if some long forgotten god was crafting the very sun that was to be set in the sky that day.
Hollow ringing rang rhythmically out from the building. The light inside seemed to die out, even as the sky grew light. The door slowly creaked open, and someone came out. The figure that strolled out could hardly be called a man, but neither could he be called a boy, having seen sixteen summers and winters pass before him. His eyes, myriad in color, squinted towards the eastern horizon, as if he was checking his creation for faults. The sun seemed to notice his attention, and finally pulled herself over the lip of the world, dispelling the darkness that night had created in the Sunspire Plains. The teen grimaced, scratching the mess of hair he had, and shuffled back inside the shop, muttering to himself. The clanging renewed itself with vigour, as the sun continued her journey over the sky. She was directly overhead when a person trudged down the dirt path toward the smithy. An aged man he was, of forty summers or so, with stubble on his chin and strength in his arms. He wore a blacksmith's apron, and carried with him a box full of broken metal objects, all of which seemed to be in need of a good scrubbing. He trekked up to the door and beat upon it with a pan, which let off a respectable amount of rust flakes. The door opened once more, and the youth stepped back to allow the man entrance.
"What have you this time, Jorel?" asked the youth.
"Not much for the scrap 'eap, Tobias, most o' these 'ere pots are fixable, most from Westside village, on the other side o' the plains. Some o' the pans we can 'elp out the owners by meltin' 'em down and reforgin' 'em. This 'ere pair o' shears and this knife are worthless, 'ere you go."
Jorel handed Tobias the knife, which was broken halfway down the hilt, and the shears, which were iron, but rusted beyond use. Tobias set them aside and began working on the most decrepit looking pot in the box, shaping out the dents and divets.
"'Ow long yeh been 'ere?" grumbled Jorel.
Tobias looked the counter next to him. On it was the remains of a candle, now unlit, which was halfway used. "About three hours. Woke up early, so I decided to come down here and work."
Jorel went to the forge and threw the pans he would melt into a large bin, produced some tools from his apron, brushed some dust off of them, and set them on his anvil. It was then that he noticed a metal object in the water trough, and trudged over to it. A steel tang was sticking out of the water. He pulled out the rod, revealing a crossguard that formed the base of a sharp steel blade.
"Tobias, what'n Sam's name is this?" he inquired.
He looked down the hilt from tang to tip, then gingerly fingered the edge.
"It's my new sword," said Tobias. He looked down and continued hammering at the pot.
"Remember how the Dendrow gremlins stole my last one on my most recent hike towards the mountains?" he asked.
"Aye," Jorel replied. "'Ow could I forget? That blade was one o' me finest works. Put me heart 'n' soul in it, I did. Still aches whenever yeh mention it, not least because I always tell yeh to be careful 'round those parts." He sighed, then asked, "'Ow long ago d'you start workin' with it? Where'd yeh get this much steel teh work with? And 'ow come I didn't see it up till now?"
Tobias rolled his eyes. "One at a time, dad. In that order, about three weeks ago. I'm nearly done, just need the grip and the rainguard from Leathermaster Tarken. He should be done with them before lunch. To answer your second, I found a nice iron deposit near Deadman's Drop, about two months ago, at the foot of the mountains. Been using it ever since. Also, I wanted to see how well I could forge things on my own without help or advice," Tobias set down the newly shaped pot and reached for a new one.
Suddenly, raucous laughter rang out, nearly as piercing as the hammerfalls of the youth. Tobias swung around and beheld Jorel, bent over in mirth, clutching his belly.
Tobias yelled, "What's wrong?", but Jorel didn't even pause in his laughter.
He laughed until his eyes were swimming, until he was gasping for breath, and then he laughed some more. He finally wiped his eyes and turned, still chuckling, to Tobias, who was watching him with the air of someone who fears that they'd have to fetch the doctor.
"Wha's wrong?" He cackled. "Nothin's wrong, ma' boy, unless you count a great weaponsmith in the makin' a problem!" He burst out laughing again. "Ah, ma' boy, what a fine smith you'll make. Finally, I 'ave someone worthwhile to keep the shop when I'm gone." He walked over, sword in hand, and put Tobias in a headlock, shaking him around.
"I thought it was pretty good for my first try," Tobias called out from Jorel's bicep.
"So it is, Toby, so it is," he replied. "Tell yeh what, Toby, let's go get yer leather and finish this fine beauty. How'd yuh like to rest easy fer today? These pots can wait, Westside's a three day journey anyway. Let's go to the tannin' vats."
With this, Jorel walked toward the door, with a spring in his step. The years seemed to fade off him, and he appeared much younger. He led the way towards Tarken's house. The village was now fully awake, with people walking to and fro. The pair greeted everyone they met, having brief conversations before heading off towards the south part of the village. Most of the young girls were rather giggly around Tobias, but he didn't seem to notice. They came to a large wooden building, bereft of any distinguishing features, save for a small front yard. Jorel walked up the cobbled path and knocked on the door.
A voice, high and clear, answered, "Who goes there?"
Tobias called out, "Open the door, Nelliel, who else could it be?" At this response, the door flew open, and a young woman stepped out. No less than fifteen summers had she seen, with fair brown hair neatly combed.
"Oh, do shut up, Toby," she mocked. "You here for your leathers? My father's done with them. Here, I'll go get him." She went to the back of the store, where what sounded like an argument arose between her and another person. The argument ended with a heavy slap, accompanied by a grunt of pain.
"Ow! Okay, okay, Nel, have it your way." Nel reappeared, grinning, with Tobias' requested items, along with her father, who was rubbing that back of his head.
"Tarken!" boomed Jorel. "It's been ages! How yeh been? How's the store? I see Nel's still the one in charge, no doubt about it," he chuckled.
"Father told me to charge you six silvers. I remember he said four and fifty coppers when Jorel came in two weeks ago." She rolled her eyes at her father.
"Oh ho, trying to steal me money now, are yeh, Tarken?" scolded Jorel, with a smile.
"No no, Jorel, just trying to keep the business alive." replied Tarken with a sheepish grin. "You know how it goes."
"I know how it goes alright," muttered Tobias. "Tell you what. Since you wanted six silvers, and you charged four and a half, I'll give you six and a fourth." Tobias pulled out a bag of cloth and counted the coins. "Fair?" He asked.
Tarken grinned. "Fair enough." He reached for the coins.
Tobias quickly withdrew his hand. "Not yet," he said with a smile. "This extra money is to be used on Nelliel. She'll be sixteen in two days. Also, the rest of the funds will cover mine and Nelliel's expenses at the Founding Festival. It's tomorrow. Got it?"
Tarken smiled sheepishly again. "Got it."
Jorel clapped his hands together and said, "Well, the rest o' the day's yours, Toby." He turned to Nelliel. "Me and your ole' man have got some catchin' up to do. Feel free to go run around with me boy if you want, but don't do anything funny," he said with a wink.
Nelliel turned red at this. "Mr. Greatsmith..." she started to protest, but Tobias took her by the shoulder and dragged her towards the door. "Bye dad," was the last thing Jorel heard before the door shut. He turned towards Tarken.
"I swear, those two're gettin' more awkward 'round each other every day," chuckled Jorel. Tarken joined in, slapping the blacksmith on the back.
"Shall we go to the tavern, old friend?"
"Sure, why not? But remember, you're the one with the money now." Tarken's expression faded as Jorel let out another laugh.
ΘΘΘ
Tobias and Nel headed back towards the smithy, talking about anything that came to mind. Eventually the topic shifted to Nel's birthday.
"Watcha gonna do for your special day?" asked Tobias.
Nel's eyes narrowed. "Hopefully, dad doesn't get any ideas."
Tobias grinned as he remembered her "special day" two years ago. Nel had just graduated from school (all children finish school at fourteen, mainly because there isn't much to learn besides numbers, letters, how the community runs, and how important all the different types of professions are) and had chosen to follow in her father's footsteps and become a leatherworker. Her dad was so happy with her decision he decided to surprise her by making her a set of leather clothes for her to wear on her birthday. To make a long story short, the clothes didn't fit, since Tarken neglected to actually measure out his daughter, and Nel ended up walking around looking like she was drowning in fabric. Her recent growth spurt, however, seemed to take the clothes in mind, and now, almost two years later, the clothes fit her perfectly. She used it as a hunting smock now and again, whenever her father ran low on animal skins.
Nel turned, with a light in her eyes, towards Tobias, saying, "My dad's running low on skins again. How 'bout we go catch some rabbits and cook them?"
Tobias grimaced. "I don't like killing small fry, and you know the forest doesn't like us killing innocent creatures. We'd be better off killing some rabid wolves or maybe a bear."
"Fine," Nel commented as she rolled her eyes. "I was hoping for some rabbit meat, but bear sounds good too. I'll go get my dad's bow," she said as she turned back towards the village.
"No need, Nel. I got a little something for you. Found it near the mountains." Nel shivered at the mention of them. She still remembered her grandfather's stories about when he was a young ranger, which always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping death, be it from gremlins, worgs, or cliff sides. Nel didn't care about the method, she just cared about staying alive, and away from those ominous peaks.
"What did you find?"
Tobias chuckled. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"
Nel crossed her arms and pouted. This made Tobias laugh all the more.
"Don't worry Nel, we're almost there." With that, he veered left, off the path towards the smithy. They were now heading to the edge of the forest.
"What I found isn't like anything I've ever seen," he explained. "At first I thought it was an oddly shaped club, but the grip didn't make it easy to club with. It had a long metal tube that was open on one end, although you could open it from the back too. At the bottom, er, well, it looks like the bottom, although I could be holding it upside-down... Ack, it's easier to explain when you see it. Here we are."
Nel looked around. The field they were walking through was ending. The edge of the forest was barely twenty feet before them. A stream, so clear one could see the bottom, flowed out of the forest, towards the village. Being this near the wild forest made Nel uncomfortable. Strange things were said to happen in Forests of Dendrow. Many of the rangers, men and women who scouted the wilderness for food, went into the forest, and never came back out. Still, she couldn't see anything unusual or dangerous at the moment.
"Where is it?" she whispered, unable to keep a slight tremor out of her voice. The forest seemed to close in on the sound of her voice, as if it was challenging her with a silent call of its own. With a start, she realized Tobias was nowhere in sight.
"Tobias!" she whispered. The forest itself seemed to answer, and the wind in her ears almost seemed to speak. Leave this place at once, it whispered. "Tobias!" she called. The oppressive feeling she sensed grew. "C'mon, this isn't funny!"
"Over here!" called Tobias. His voice called from her left. She walked tentatively forward, stumbling to a run after she heard an owl hoot. She found him facing away from her, shooing a bird away from a bush. The bird, a red-tail hawk, took off, and alighted on her nose, causing her to flinch. The bird, little more than an fledgling, took off once more, and landed on her again, this time on her ear. It tilted its head at her and squawked.
"U-um, Tobias, I have n-nature on my ear..." she quavered.
Tobias laughed, without turning around. "Looks like Featherweight likes you." He gave a series of whistles, and the bird left Nel's ear and alighted on the top of his head. He appeared to be done with whatever he was doing with the bush, getting up and turning around. Nel had to stifle a giggle at Tobias' appearance. He looked as if he had found a colorful hat. Well, one that lived and breathed, anyways.
"Here it is." Tobias said, with an air of someone showing a great wonder. It was then that she noticed what Tobias was talking about. What he had in his hands didn't look like anything she had ever seen. The metal tube ended in a grip, with a small curved metal bar encompassing a small metal rod. There was a slightly curved metal rectangle near the back.
"It's... different." Nel dubiously stated. "Do you know what it does? Why did you tell me I didn't need a bow? Even if I throw it as hard as I can, it won't go very far."
Tobias' expression changed from reverent to sly, although his headgear slightly marred his mysterious air. He pointed the open end of the tube towards the other end of the field. At the other end was a broken down wooden fence that marked the end of the village farms.
"See that fencepost over there?" said Tobias. "The closest one," he added.
Nel shaded her eyes. "Yeah, I see it."
"How far d'you think it is?"
Nel paused. "I don't know, maybe twenty fathoms (about two hundred and forty feet)... Seems pretty far, what're you gonna do?"
"Just watch," With that, Tobias looked down the metal tube, as if aiming the open end directly at the post. He took a deep breath, and squeezed the small rod.
Several things happened at once. A loud bang issued from the contraption, which frightened Nel, causing her to slip and fall on the ground. The fencepost popped out of existence, with Featherweight squawking protest to the noise, flapping off of Tobias' head and fluttering down to Nel's, who was still lying flat on the ground. With the feeling of Featherweight on her head, she abruptly sat up.
"Get off me!" she wailed as she shook her head vigourously. Featherweight didn't even seem to notice her shaking. Nel sighed. She shifted her attention, glaring at Tobias. "Why'd you do that for? What's wrong with you and loud noises, anyways?"
Tobias smirked. "Look at the post, " he shot back.
Nel looked over. "Where'd it go?"
Tobias smirked deepened. "Let's have a look." He started walking towards the general direction of the post. While they were walking, he took out a compartment from the back of the tube. The box was hollow, with long rounded metal pellets filling it.
"I don't know exactly how, but whenever I pull this trigger, the tube shoots out one of these, kind of like a slingshot, except much stronger and faster. Have a look." Tobias pointed towards the ground, and Nel saw that was the spot where the post was, but all that was left was a few splinters here and there.
"Wow..." was all Nel could say. They started heading back to Tobias' hiding bush.
"Yeah, the first time I used it, I thought lightning came down from the sky. I don't need it, because I don't really hunt. That's more your style. You can have it if you want." He flipped it so the tube was pointing away from either of them and presented it to her.
Nel hesitated. "Uh, I don't think I'd, you know, want something like that. I'm already comfortable with a bow, and plus, that loud noise will just scare away the animals."
Tobias shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. He covered the metal marvel with some mosses. "So, we're gonna go get your bow?"
"Y... yeah."
"Mkay..."
ΘΘΘ
The sun was near the horizon when the pair returned to the village, with Featherweight resting on Tobias' shoulder. Both Tobias and Nel were burdened with the weight of two wolves' meat and pelts, and with a pair of rabbits the wolves had caught before Nel and Tobias had found them. The two had skinned the animals as soon as they had caught them, and both were content with that day's work. They visited the slaughterhouse, dropping off the meat for the festival later that evening. Nine full silvers they were paid, though the rabbits were only half a silver each.
"Ready for the bonfire?" chirped Nel. She had ran home and changed into her best jeans, which were old, faded, and torn. She wore a simple black t-shirt with the words 'Keep Calm and Wear Leather' ironed on it.
"More or less," stated Tobias. He had changed to a grey jacket with numerous pockets, all of which had hidden secrets inside, and simple jeans, just like Nel's. His shirt, also black, had words on it, just like Nel's. The words read 'Strike it While it's Hot'.
"Still can't believe the mayor's daughter is finally graduating," said Nel. "Wonder what profession Natalie will choose..."
Tobias scoffed. "Knowing her, she'll probably choose something to do with jewels. Can't get her mind off of them."
"Yeah," Nel said, "Unless you're around, then her minds on more than jewels."
Tobias mouth twitched into a grin. "Don't push it, Leatherface. I could have easily left you to the wolves today, don't make me regret it."
Nel slugged him in the shoulder. "Yeah, whatever. Stop acting like you're the only one that can handle being out there."
"Alrighty then, Miss I Get Scared By Loud Noises," mocked Tobias as he raised his hands in a defensive gesture. Nel slugged him again.
All of a sudden, the two were caught up in a crowd that was heading towards the village center. The festival was starting. It was a very important day, for two reasons. Since the next-in-line to be mayor of the village was to choose a profession, which will decide the economic direction Southside would take in regards to the other communities, everyone was excited to see what the mayor's daughter would choose. That day was also the anniversary of the founding of Southside, which took place exactly two hundred and fifty years prior. The Founding Festival, as it was called, was the biggest celebration of the year, and everyone in Southside attended. Even people from other communities, like Westside, which was located on the other side of the mountains, at the shores of the Sundering Sea, Northside, which was located in the frozen wastes of the Frostblood Tundras, and Eastside, built on the lowest peak of the Dendrow Mountains. Most years, both villages sent nearly everyone to the festival, leaving only those necessary to protect the food storehouses.
While the crowd continued towards the town center, everyone started looking for familiar faces. Old faces crinkled in the joy of meeting those they knew, young ones stretched into laughter, and as the crowd dispersed, Tobias and Nel met the other teens. All of the out-of-town teens were either from Northside or Westside, since Eastside wasn't really seen as a safe place for young people. It was mostly populated with aged, experienced miners, since the only mine rich in ore was near Eastside.
As the festival started, Nel and Tobias began to look for the usual booths, like the 'duck hunt' dart shooter, and the ring toss, among others. They walked around, enjoying themselves with their fellow teens. Night had fallen, and most of the party-goers were full from candy and rich food, when Mayor Hitchock announced the final gathering in the bonfire pit in the center of town. Everyone started cleaning up the square, before taking their seats on the wooden benches encircling the ring of stones. Even with the numerous seats, many had to stand, for there was no room. The fire was unlit, and Mayor Hitchock stood in the ashes of last year's festival.
"Welcome all," he said, his deep voice reverberating through the spines of all present. "This day has been anticipated for the longest time. It is with great pride that I announce the two-hundred and fiftieth Founding Festival."
The crowd sounded off their agreement, but quickly quieted. Mayor Hitchock had the gift of keeping a crowd quiet without effort.
"Ardric. Eriad. Noria. Please step forth." Two men and a woman advanced, all apparently held with high prestige, since the crowd clapped and cheered for them until they reached Hitchock.
"My fellow mayors of the Four Sides," said Hitchock, shaking hands with each of the three.
"Always a pleasure, Wallon," said Mayor Ardric Whitewolf, who was from Northside. His hair was tied back in a "warrior's wolftail", and wore a wolf-skin jacket. His hair was shock white, and most people believed it had turned white when he had gotten lost for a week in the northern reaches of the plains, the Frostblood Tundras.
Mayor Eriad Winston just nodded when he was greeted. He was from Westside, and looked like a typical surfer dude. With his swimmer's build, and blonde hair that wreathed his tanned face, he looked like he was built for the beach. His exterior hid a sharp mind, though, and he was publically seen as an intellectual genius.
"Wallon," said the third figure, who was the Mayor of Eastside, Noria Brightfall. Her jet black hair, coupled with her blue eyes lightly flecked with fragments of green, made the men in Eastside do anything she asked. She became mayor at just twenty-two, after her father was killed by gremlins four years hence. She saw Eastside as the first line of defense against anything that could endanger the villages of the Sunspire Plains. As such, she kept a militant air around her at all times, if just to keep people calm.
"Great to see you all again," mumbled Hitchock. Clearing his throat, he addressed the crowd. "My fellow residents of the Sunspire Plains." He paused, clearing his throat.
"Now that the Four Leaders are here, we can commence the Ritual of Renewal. Rise, my fellow Spirians!" Spreading his arms, he commenced the ritual. His voice changed, and he started chanting in a language which sounded old and forgotten, as if the beginning of the world was a symphony, and the Earth herself was being heard. Only a few people could piece together what was being said, Hitchock among them, and those few shared their translations with the other less-enlightened Spirians. The chant grew as the other Leaders added their voices, as well as the crowd. The melody was the story of how the Sunspire Plains came to be populated, and all of the villagers knew the meaning of the words by heart, even if they did not know the words. The meaning of the words was this:
In a valley far away, in a kingdom in the frost,
Lived a full-of-wisdom king, and thus did he accost,
'We doth not belong here, nay, we long for open plains,
With grassy fields and fertile soil, and sultry summer rains,
With no frost near to chill our bones, with not a flake in sight
With no winter to freeze the sky, and none of Daren's Blight',
And so did King Mithrandus leave his kingdom to his sons
And set out to find a new land, second best to none
For years he looked and did not find what he thought was lost
In the land of all the subjects of the kingdom in the frost
When suddenly so far from home, the king had given thought
To what he truly looked for, and had found alike of naught
And after all the searching for what he thought was lost
He knew why he had left his home, his kingdom in the frost
And so the—
Suddenly, a scream erupted from the crowd. A rent in the circle of people formed, extending from the edge to the front row.