Ch. 1: Cursed to Wander
The Yorani, the world of Yuska, and all aspects related to them are my own creation and I have the official novel "The Faith Holders" in the works. Otherwise, I own nothing else.
They had lost.
True, the Yorani had driven the rorin from their home, but the war had taken its toll. The world of Yuska was lost.
The once-great realm of magic, home to the children of Yoran, was but a shell of its former glory. Tall mountains had been reduced to crumbling piles of rocks, lush green grass was black and stiff to the touch, the rivers were only dusty furrows and the air thick with smoke from still burning fires. Weary from the constant fighting, the burning and salting of the earth, and the slaughter of all indigenous animals, Yuska had seemed to collapse into itself. Whatever magic had kept the world alive had vanished, allowing it and its people to die.
Far to the south, a lone figure made her way across an arid wasteland of a valley, her wolf-like feet kicking up small clouds of red dust in the setting sun. Pausing atop her favorite hill, Lady Ahzeya Highoritor, leader of the Highorashi clan, raised her eyes to the sky.
Two years, it had been. A mere two years since she and her newly-formed clan had laid claim to the southern plains of Yuska. Two years into her adulthood and there was only one option left for her.
Oh, Lord Yoran, do you see what has become of your children? Ahzeya twitched her pointed ears at the sky, where a full moon rode in the sky. No voice echoed from the heavens; the icy moon kept its own council and paid no mind to the plight of the Yorani.
"We cannot stay here," Ahzeya whispered, gazing at the starry sky. "Our world may be gone, but its people must live. My clan must live."
Taking a deep breath, Ahzeya willed the grief off her face and returned to the huddle of rock caves where her clan waited. Twenty-one pairs of golden eyes fixated in the wolf-like girl as she approached them, all of them hopeful that their leader would have the answer to their plight.
Answers I have, but it is not one they will relish. If truth be told, Ahzeya was not in favor of the idea either, but there was no other choice.
"My Lady?" A young male had risen and was striding toward her. Shanco Akrimiru, his massive horns pearly in the moonlight, had been the first member of her clan and now held the title of Ahzeya's second-in-command.
"I am fine, Shanco. How is our water supply holding out?"
"Not well, I am afraid. The springs are dry and we cannot summon any more."
"I feared that was the case. Yuska is incapable of supporting life now. If we stay here, we will die."
"But where are we to go?" a young female asked, her bushy fox tail curling about her ankles.
"The only place we can go, Frala. There are still gateways open, though for how long I cannot say. The world of the rorin is the only place left for us and we must go at once."
"The rorin?"
"My Lady no!"
"We cannot go there!"
"There must be another path!"
"There is no other path," Ahzeya answered, not raising her voice. "If there was, I would lead you there. But the only world open to us is the world of our invaders and we know that world is more than capable of supporting life."
"Shin, but what kind of life must it be to create such creatures?" one of the males asked.
"Creatures who appear like us, you mean, Fritom?" Shanco asked.
"In appearance, yes, but so warlike. Their bickering for territory does not allow for a winner." Fritom gestured to the burned fields that stretched for miles. "Even when Yorani compete for land, we at least leave the territory intact!"
"And I have no doubt their world survives yet," Ahzeya answered. "Why destroy our world if they had no other home to return to?" The young leader sighed, shaking her head. "I wish there was something else I could do, but there is not. And Lord Yoran," Ahzeya paused, then added, "for now, he is silent. But I know he would want us to survive. Now more than ever we must have faith that this is the path the Great One wishes us to follow."
There was a brief silence as the Highorashi clan members considered their leader's words. Shanco was the first to speak.
"If it is faith we must have, my Lady, then you have mine. I will follow you to the end of my days."
"Raksen, Shanco. I never doubted that."
"We pledged ourselves to you, Lady Ahzeya," the young male Fritom said. "And Lord Yoran has never forsaken us. I see no reason not to have faith in either of you." The rest of the clan echoed these words with nods and murmurs of agreement.
"Then we must go. Whatever magic remains in Yuska is rapidly fading and the gates to the world of the rorin could close at any time. The closest one I know of is at the far side of the valley. If we leave now, we can be through it before the night is half over."
Taking up her position at the head of the clan, Ahzeya led her clan across the withered plains. A few of the Yorani glanced behind them, allowing themselves one last glance at the shriveled trees, dried-up ponds, and the rock caves that they had called home.
Ahzeya kept her eyes trained forward, resolute in leading her clan away from the destruction that had plagued the Yorani for the past two years. All the same, it took all of the young leader's willpower not to shed any tears as she prepared to leave her home world behind, knowing full well that she and her clan might never return.
A.N.: In the next few chapters, I will translate some of the Yorani language, as well as give a more detailed description of them as a species as a whole.