Chapter Two
Breakfast had ended and their camp had been taken down. Viktor finished early and was kneeling down at the lakeshore, bent over his reflection in the water. With a small knife he was shaving off the previous day's stubble. He dipped the knife in the water to clean it off, one hand pressed into the cool sand as he balanced his bulk over the water.
He brought the knife back up to his throat and moved upwards towards his chin, catching the reflection of his own eyes in the water as it settled. It wasn't often he saw himself. The hollows and lines around his eyes were deeper than he remembered. Yet he had few furrows where his laugh lines should be. A sudden wind stirred the water into ripples, and the reflection disintegrated.
"What are you looking at with such interest?" a voice asked from behind him. Viktor turned to see Tir at the top of a small bank above the lake.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go?" Viktor asked him back.
"Gremio insists on doing all the work," Tir laughed. "Plus I'm not even sure where we're going in the first place, so I haven't got a whole lot of incentive. There isn't much that surprises me anymore, so whatever adventures you've planned, I think I'm ready."
Viktor finished shaving and half walked, half climbed up the bank to where Tir stood. "From down there, you looked like that statue they have of you in Gregminster. You have seen that thing, haven't you?"
"Yeah. Pretty flattering, if unnecessary."
"You know, you haven't seemed to have changed a bit since the end of that war," Viktor said. "It's been a few years, but you've still got that youthful look you had back before. . ." Viktor trailed off.
"I don't even have to shave. I wonder if I'll ever have to."
"Time marches on," Viktor said. "At least, for most of us." Silence hung between them. Gremio suddenly came huffing and puffing up.
"Everything is ready. So *now* can you explain why you summoned all of us here?" Gremio prompted.
"I guess it's time," Flik said, overhearing. Everyone gathered around the remains of the campfire. Mourning doves began to coo in the trees behind them.
Viktor began. "Some of you may have noticed that the Star Dragon sword isn't as talkative as usual," he said as he crossed towards his tent. He brought out a bundle, and as he unfolded it, he revealed the sword. But instead of a strangely human face looking back at them, there was only an eyeless, featureless mold of stone.
Ayda was the first to speak. "What happened to him?"
"Someone put a curse on him while we were on an island called Ikavah," Viktor replied.
"I've heard of Ikavah," Tir McDohl said. Everyone turned towards him. "My father..." He glanced at Gremio, who only nodded. "My father stayed there a few times on various campaigns. They have many strange customs. Their government is a monarchy, yet their people are really very lawless compared to the cultures we are accustomed to."
"Yes, that's right," Flik said. "Which is why Viktor wanted to go there after we were roaming the countryside following the last great war against Highland."
"It wasn't what we expected. I thought it would be a nice vacation..." Everyone gave him confused looks, except Flik, who only sighed. "What?! It's an island, right? But the way it turned out was not as I had imagined. Sit down and I'll tell you what happened."
__________________________________________________________________
The ground began to crack as the rumbling increased. Flik jumped up and grabbed a handy table leg, then used it to balance against as he slid under the table to avoid being hit by falling pieces of ceiling. Viktor held his beer stein above his head as if it would keep him safe from all harm, the expression on his face between shock and drunken stupor. Everyone in the bar turned towards them and laughed at their reactions to the slight earthquake moving through the island.
As the tremors ceased, Flik crawled out from under the table, asking "What was THAT?" He stood up and began to brush dust off of his clothes.
"Have you never felt the power of the god of fire?" a woman said, cutting through the laughter. Flik's level stare at her betrayed no answers. She went on, her face hidden by a shadow from a hood.
"On this island, the mountains speak," she said. "They react to the whims of the fire god, whose power to destroy all of us is quelled only by the people's constant sacrifices."
She stood and walked towards Flik. He sat and drank from his pint, never taking his eyes off of her sword arm. She was dressed in a finer clothing than the other patrons of the bar, but for the longsword at her side, a weapon not commonly used in these islands. As she approached, her features were lit by the candle on their table, her hood not concealing the wisps of black hair framing her forehead. Blues eyes gazed out like pools of deep blue gleaming in the candlelight. She wore strange gauntlets on her forearms, of shimmering cobalt. Beneath them her skin was alabaster white.
The bar returned to its normal background noise of chatter and clanking glasses as the excitement ended.
"Who are you?" Viktor asked dismissively.
"They call me Noelani. I am an emissary for the kingdom of Ikavah's most beloved oracle," she said, and slid into a chair with a quick, delicate movement. "You are Viktor-" she indicated him with a slight movement of her slender fingers, which were tattooed with a midnight blue patterned design that ran up into her sleeve "- and you are Flik, and neither of you belong here."
Flik and Viktor exchanged looks.
"Do you have anything else more interesting to say?" Viktor asked. "Because my friend and I are on vacation from two very long, tiring, challenging campaigns against various insurmountable armies and forces of evil, so get on with it."
"The oracle I serve wishes to speak with you," Noelani replied patiently. "She has been waiting for you. Come with me." Noelani stood. Her confidence showed that she fully believed they would cooperate, as if they always would.
Viktor raised his eyes up to look at her face. As he did so her face lost its detached expression and some flicker of sadness entered her eyes. Her eyes swayed to the candle on the table.
She seemed familiar. And why not go along. Maybe there was something interesting to gain... or money to be had.
Flik seemed to have the same thoughts as he mumbled to Viktor, "Well, why not see what they have to say. Could be of interest." He then looked up towards the ceiling in a message to Viktor meaning, should we go upstairs to our room and get our weapons? Viktor's mouth curled with indecision.
"Let's go," Noelani said. Flik shrugged at Viktor, covertly showing him the magical rune on his hand. Viktor smiled.
"Lead on."
________________________________________
They followed Noelani past the huts of the island of Ikavah, uphill to the foot of the mountain. Everywhere they went there were children playing and men and women singing songs of long ago times. Some people stared at the strange foreigners as they followed the oracle's emissary, but mostly they went unnoticed.
They entered the stately domain of the oracle, a square open to the elements with a few poles on which fruits were hung. Bees whirred around some of the fruit, and huge butterflies lazily surfed the air past them.
Two men held the oracle's upper arms as they helped her sit down before them as they entered. "Ahh, two pilgrims," came her rich voice. A thin silver robe covered her golden skin which stretched across her bulk. Her eyes were dark and cat-like.
"Welcome to Ikavah." The two men brought the guests glasses of some kind of fruity smelling alcohol, which were refused.
"You are not the kinds to give much care to pleasantries," the oracle said. "So let me show you why I've brought you here."
Two more men were summoned to help the oracle stand. On their arms, she walked to the wide overlook from above the town. Flik and Viktor, although both questioning how the people here knew so much about them, followed and peered over. There, in the square below, two men were being led to poles stuck in the ground. At each corner of the square were four burning torches. The men were tied to the poles, their foreheads lashed to the wood so their throats were exposed.
"They are to be sacrificed to the fire god, to save the rest of us," the oracle said. "Every day Queen Haukea's advisors demand more sacrifice."
Flik and Viktor watched grimly as the men were led to their deaths. They made no noise or attempt to escape. Priests and priestesses standing at the sides of the square began to sing a song to alert the god of the sacrifice's coming. A drum was beaten, echoing through the town.
"These men, though part of the government, are upstarts against the monarchy, trying to remove corruption. Part of a quiet resistance that so far has been futile," Noelani said, though turned away from the spectacle below. "They were supposedly chosen randomly for supplication to the gods but in reality were carefully selected."
"What kind of corruption?" Flik asked.
"From the Queen's priest. He is called Maleko. He claims to follow the demands of the fire god, but in truth, he only cares for his own ambitions. He wants to take over Ikavah and then conquer the surrounding islands. If he does this, he will not stop there."
As the two foreigners watched, a man carrying two torches suspended from a rope in each hand twirled the fire around and around before the two doomed men. His twirling carved a red figure eight pattern into the air, as the singing grew louder and the drumming faster.
"He will kill the Queen," said Noelani, "and she is but 14 years old. Then he will plunge this entire hemisphere into war. You of all people should know what will happen then."
Two priests ran towards the restrained men. Flik made a move to leap down from their position over the square in a desperate attempt to stop the sacrifice. He was too late as the two men were slain with incredible speed, their throats cut. The oracle hissed, "They will kill you too if you try anything!" The drums were beating faster than ever. Suddenly they stopped.
"Just why should we help you?" Flik demanded. "If you know so much about us, don't you know we're tired of constantly fighting!"
"You will help," the oracle said. "For many reasons. But the first one is, your sword has been put to sleep. The only way to awaken it is to follow my instructions, and if you do not awaken it, the sword will be spoiled for its future wielders. Go back to your inn and see. Then depart for the outlands, and return with as many comrades in arms you think you will need to destroy this menace to peace."
________________________________
"She wouldn't say how the sword was cursed, only that it had something to do with the island itself. We came back here to get help," Viktor finished. "This sword's fate is beyond any of us . . ." Viktor paused and glanced at Tir. "If we don't wake it up, those who were meant to wield it never will, and who knows how much pain and needless death that will cause."
"I will stay with you, then," Oulan stated. Turning away she walked to the top of the hill above the lake while the others dispersed, talking excitedly. She stared down at her hand, where an instrument of elemental power of the earth was fixed; a rune she had found during her travels and later had attached in Two River after she'd heard of Viktor's need for help. She looked up at the water before her and murmured to herself. Her words were taken by the wind. "It seems we are always in strife against some magic or another . . . if only my strength were enough." She turned and strode back to the camp.
Breakfast had ended and their camp had been taken down. Viktor finished early and was kneeling down at the lakeshore, bent over his reflection in the water. With a small knife he was shaving off the previous day's stubble. He dipped the knife in the water to clean it off, one hand pressed into the cool sand as he balanced his bulk over the water.
He brought the knife back up to his throat and moved upwards towards his chin, catching the reflection of his own eyes in the water as it settled. It wasn't often he saw himself. The hollows and lines around his eyes were deeper than he remembered. Yet he had few furrows where his laugh lines should be. A sudden wind stirred the water into ripples, and the reflection disintegrated.
"What are you looking at with such interest?" a voice asked from behind him. Viktor turned to see Tir at the top of a small bank above the lake.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go?" Viktor asked him back.
"Gremio insists on doing all the work," Tir laughed. "Plus I'm not even sure where we're going in the first place, so I haven't got a whole lot of incentive. There isn't much that surprises me anymore, so whatever adventures you've planned, I think I'm ready."
Viktor finished shaving and half walked, half climbed up the bank to where Tir stood. "From down there, you looked like that statue they have of you in Gregminster. You have seen that thing, haven't you?"
"Yeah. Pretty flattering, if unnecessary."
"You know, you haven't seemed to have changed a bit since the end of that war," Viktor said. "It's been a few years, but you've still got that youthful look you had back before. . ." Viktor trailed off.
"I don't even have to shave. I wonder if I'll ever have to."
"Time marches on," Viktor said. "At least, for most of us." Silence hung between them. Gremio suddenly came huffing and puffing up.
"Everything is ready. So *now* can you explain why you summoned all of us here?" Gremio prompted.
"I guess it's time," Flik said, overhearing. Everyone gathered around the remains of the campfire. Mourning doves began to coo in the trees behind them.
Viktor began. "Some of you may have noticed that the Star Dragon sword isn't as talkative as usual," he said as he crossed towards his tent. He brought out a bundle, and as he unfolded it, he revealed the sword. But instead of a strangely human face looking back at them, there was only an eyeless, featureless mold of stone.
Ayda was the first to speak. "What happened to him?"
"Someone put a curse on him while we were on an island called Ikavah," Viktor replied.
"I've heard of Ikavah," Tir McDohl said. Everyone turned towards him. "My father..." He glanced at Gremio, who only nodded. "My father stayed there a few times on various campaigns. They have many strange customs. Their government is a monarchy, yet their people are really very lawless compared to the cultures we are accustomed to."
"Yes, that's right," Flik said. "Which is why Viktor wanted to go there after we were roaming the countryside following the last great war against Highland."
"It wasn't what we expected. I thought it would be a nice vacation..." Everyone gave him confused looks, except Flik, who only sighed. "What?! It's an island, right? But the way it turned out was not as I had imagined. Sit down and I'll tell you what happened."
__________________________________________________________________
The ground began to crack as the rumbling increased. Flik jumped up and grabbed a handy table leg, then used it to balance against as he slid under the table to avoid being hit by falling pieces of ceiling. Viktor held his beer stein above his head as if it would keep him safe from all harm, the expression on his face between shock and drunken stupor. Everyone in the bar turned towards them and laughed at their reactions to the slight earthquake moving through the island.
As the tremors ceased, Flik crawled out from under the table, asking "What was THAT?" He stood up and began to brush dust off of his clothes.
"Have you never felt the power of the god of fire?" a woman said, cutting through the laughter. Flik's level stare at her betrayed no answers. She went on, her face hidden by a shadow from a hood.
"On this island, the mountains speak," she said. "They react to the whims of the fire god, whose power to destroy all of us is quelled only by the people's constant sacrifices."
She stood and walked towards Flik. He sat and drank from his pint, never taking his eyes off of her sword arm. She was dressed in a finer clothing than the other patrons of the bar, but for the longsword at her side, a weapon not commonly used in these islands. As she approached, her features were lit by the candle on their table, her hood not concealing the wisps of black hair framing her forehead. Blues eyes gazed out like pools of deep blue gleaming in the candlelight. She wore strange gauntlets on her forearms, of shimmering cobalt. Beneath them her skin was alabaster white.
The bar returned to its normal background noise of chatter and clanking glasses as the excitement ended.
"Who are you?" Viktor asked dismissively.
"They call me Noelani. I am an emissary for the kingdom of Ikavah's most beloved oracle," she said, and slid into a chair with a quick, delicate movement. "You are Viktor-" she indicated him with a slight movement of her slender fingers, which were tattooed with a midnight blue patterned design that ran up into her sleeve "- and you are Flik, and neither of you belong here."
Flik and Viktor exchanged looks.
"Do you have anything else more interesting to say?" Viktor asked. "Because my friend and I are on vacation from two very long, tiring, challenging campaigns against various insurmountable armies and forces of evil, so get on with it."
"The oracle I serve wishes to speak with you," Noelani replied patiently. "She has been waiting for you. Come with me." Noelani stood. Her confidence showed that she fully believed they would cooperate, as if they always would.
Viktor raised his eyes up to look at her face. As he did so her face lost its detached expression and some flicker of sadness entered her eyes. Her eyes swayed to the candle on the table.
She seemed familiar. And why not go along. Maybe there was something interesting to gain... or money to be had.
Flik seemed to have the same thoughts as he mumbled to Viktor, "Well, why not see what they have to say. Could be of interest." He then looked up towards the ceiling in a message to Viktor meaning, should we go upstairs to our room and get our weapons? Viktor's mouth curled with indecision.
"Let's go," Noelani said. Flik shrugged at Viktor, covertly showing him the magical rune on his hand. Viktor smiled.
"Lead on."
________________________________________
They followed Noelani past the huts of the island of Ikavah, uphill to the foot of the mountain. Everywhere they went there were children playing and men and women singing songs of long ago times. Some people stared at the strange foreigners as they followed the oracle's emissary, but mostly they went unnoticed.
They entered the stately domain of the oracle, a square open to the elements with a few poles on which fruits were hung. Bees whirred around some of the fruit, and huge butterflies lazily surfed the air past them.
Two men held the oracle's upper arms as they helped her sit down before them as they entered. "Ahh, two pilgrims," came her rich voice. A thin silver robe covered her golden skin which stretched across her bulk. Her eyes were dark and cat-like.
"Welcome to Ikavah." The two men brought the guests glasses of some kind of fruity smelling alcohol, which were refused.
"You are not the kinds to give much care to pleasantries," the oracle said. "So let me show you why I've brought you here."
Two more men were summoned to help the oracle stand. On their arms, she walked to the wide overlook from above the town. Flik and Viktor, although both questioning how the people here knew so much about them, followed and peered over. There, in the square below, two men were being led to poles stuck in the ground. At each corner of the square were four burning torches. The men were tied to the poles, their foreheads lashed to the wood so their throats were exposed.
"They are to be sacrificed to the fire god, to save the rest of us," the oracle said. "Every day Queen Haukea's advisors demand more sacrifice."
Flik and Viktor watched grimly as the men were led to their deaths. They made no noise or attempt to escape. Priests and priestesses standing at the sides of the square began to sing a song to alert the god of the sacrifice's coming. A drum was beaten, echoing through the town.
"These men, though part of the government, are upstarts against the monarchy, trying to remove corruption. Part of a quiet resistance that so far has been futile," Noelani said, though turned away from the spectacle below. "They were supposedly chosen randomly for supplication to the gods but in reality were carefully selected."
"What kind of corruption?" Flik asked.
"From the Queen's priest. He is called Maleko. He claims to follow the demands of the fire god, but in truth, he only cares for his own ambitions. He wants to take over Ikavah and then conquer the surrounding islands. If he does this, he will not stop there."
As the two foreigners watched, a man carrying two torches suspended from a rope in each hand twirled the fire around and around before the two doomed men. His twirling carved a red figure eight pattern into the air, as the singing grew louder and the drumming faster.
"He will kill the Queen," said Noelani, "and she is but 14 years old. Then he will plunge this entire hemisphere into war. You of all people should know what will happen then."
Two priests ran towards the restrained men. Flik made a move to leap down from their position over the square in a desperate attempt to stop the sacrifice. He was too late as the two men were slain with incredible speed, their throats cut. The oracle hissed, "They will kill you too if you try anything!" The drums were beating faster than ever. Suddenly they stopped.
"Just why should we help you?" Flik demanded. "If you know so much about us, don't you know we're tired of constantly fighting!"
"You will help," the oracle said. "For many reasons. But the first one is, your sword has been put to sleep. The only way to awaken it is to follow my instructions, and if you do not awaken it, the sword will be spoiled for its future wielders. Go back to your inn and see. Then depart for the outlands, and return with as many comrades in arms you think you will need to destroy this menace to peace."
________________________________
"She wouldn't say how the sword was cursed, only that it had something to do with the island itself. We came back here to get help," Viktor finished. "This sword's fate is beyond any of us . . ." Viktor paused and glanced at Tir. "If we don't wake it up, those who were meant to wield it never will, and who knows how much pain and needless death that will cause."
"I will stay with you, then," Oulan stated. Turning away she walked to the top of the hill above the lake while the others dispersed, talking excitedly. She stared down at her hand, where an instrument of elemental power of the earth was fixed; a rune she had found during her travels and later had attached in Two River after she'd heard of Viktor's need for help. She looked up at the water before her and murmured to herself. Her words were taken by the wind. "It seems we are always in strife against some magic or another . . . if only my strength were enough." She turned and strode back to the camp.