"... Nar Tulkhqa lead us to great victory, victory greater then any in our history." The gruff language of the Urgal's echoed across the fire light grounds, and Yomir drank in every word, listening with some difficulty as his mentally translated each work into something he could understand. Slowly the story made sense and with it he gained a sense of respect for the Urgals, knowing what they in mass could accomplish. "Years of imprisonment at the hands of humans, years of fighting and patience had granted him an understanding of what they were capable of. How they thought and how they would fight. Many tribes followed him, and as one they lured the army of Galbatorix into a narrow passage deep within the Mountain. From each side our Rams fell upon them, raining down a slaughter that even the gods trembled to behold.
Higher then even the tallest ram, Kull even, the bodies lay. Blood flowed like the rivers in spring, after the snow and ice melts. To this day, so many years later, you can still find bones under your feet. Armor and Swords and Coins of all types linger, growing with rust and breaking down, an eternal remnant of the time in which our people defeated even the great Galbatorix.
So remember, younglings. Strength is important but so is passion and wisdom. The willingness to shrug off of struggle and embrace what you never expected. A leader, the greatest of our rams and dames, have these qualities be they Kull or not. So ask yourselves, do you have these qualities?
Will you be our next generation of leaders? Our newest Herndalls and Nars? Will you be remembered like Nar Tulkhqa?"
Silence, only feeling and pride of a generation long past filled the air. Even from his place, sitting in the cross of two branches of a tree, Yomir felt touched by that story. A part of him, so dim, mourned the loss of his memories that he could not share in their honor of their own people. He had no people for he was not of any people, not any more. However, stronger then that, was a sense of purpose and pride that someone had defied the powers that ruled the land and won, even in a temporary way.
'Pity they are all but owned by a Shade now. What would you think of your people now, Nar Tulkhqa? What would you think of me, friend or foe or fellow victim in a world where equality and freedom are rarities gifted only to those with immeasurable power, those who can take it.'
Sighing, he turned his attention back to the chanter and his crowd of Urgals, their eyes filled with determination and tears. The Younglings were restless and eager, clearly won over by this attempt to rile them up, make them desperate to prove their mettle and fulfill the missions granted to them by Durza.
'How cruel of them, manipulating their children so they are willing to do anything to measure up to a long dead man... goat..." He stopped, turning his head to the side as he considered his limited understanding of the nameless Urgal tongue. "... Ram? I am unsure what to say, regardless it is cruel.'
Satisfied as he was going to get, he returned his total attention to the wooden attempt in his hand. It was supposed to be a bear, carved from the memories of the various beasts he had seen around the Spine. He could envision the beast almost perfectly, but sadly this did not translate to any actual reality on the piece of wood in his hands. He simply could not remember or imagine the strokes and cuts needed to make the shapes and curves and edges to make it actually take on the facsimile of a bear.
It irritated him as much as it calmed him.
"I'll get it eventually." He reassured himself, turning his attempt around, searching for new angles to see just where he went wrong. "I hope my attempt helps."
Silly as it would sound to others, he had started carving in an attempt to gain a level of closeness to the Urgals. Carving was a massive, unyielding and defining part of their culture. Sharing that, in at least a small way, would hopefully ease some of the intrepid loneliness that so filled his soul especially under the glorious cold of the dark moonless sky.
A failed attempt thus far, too ashamed and awkward he had yet to ask an Urgal for help. The entire point of his attempts wasted due to pointless fears and anxieties but there it was.
Much to his shame, he couldn't just shake it no matter how hard he tried.
And so he lay, snug against the tree behind him, holding a piece of wood and waiting for his mission to hit it's zenith.
A pathetic sight indeed.
…
The sound of mud squishing under boots signaled the first day of the rains as they fell, a sign of spring and something that made the trek to the plains unbearable even for Yomir. In fact everyone was so utterly miserable that the blanket of excitement and passionate brought about by the Chanter's tale had all but faded, leaving even the normally gruff but passionate Nar Garzhvog they trekked without complaint through the mud, hour after hour, then day after day. More and more of their passion sapped away despite newer stories told by the chanters, new speeches by Nar Garzhavog, and the promise of honor and the power to get a mate through proving mettle and worth to the Dams.
Rows upon rows of Urgals, hundreds strong with Yomir standing in the front grouping. Armed with staves and swords and spears, the lesser Urgals seemed almost childish next to the massive rows of Kulls that stood between the lesser Urgals in seemingly random patterns. Personally, Yomir gripped his axe, ready and willing to fight and do whatever he was going to do in this quest. The urge to survive and make more out of his situation was all but a constant prayer, chanted even as it rained, as the wind ripped through the tribes warriors leaving searing cuts on their skin.
It was that determination, shared between all of those around, that kept them going.
It was only after two weeks of these treks that they finally saw a village in the distance, nameless for all intents and purposes, and it was here that he understood the true purpose of their quest. A wisp of fear crumbled in his chest as he watched humans, almost the size of ants in the distance, move in an around their village. It was clear they had yet to notice their coming attackers.
There was no screaming, no worry, only people going about their daily life. Children playing in groups, adults pushing carts of various types in and around the village. In the distance, towards the large hills that rose throughout the plains, various farms lay in rest. With some focus he could see flares of light, heat from fire and flesh, signs of life both human and beast.
It was a center of human life, and seeing as he was once human the knowledge of the doom he would bring them was painful. Agonizing, torturous...
A fact that Garzhavog would confirm with a simple speech, a speech that ignited the passion of the Urgals and destroyed the joy within Yomir even as it solidified his determination.
Standing tall, towering above them all, Nar Garzhavog bellowed to his people. His voice wasn't rich, his words weren't complex, but his passion was beyond clear.
"It is here that you will gain honor, the honor you crave, need! Honor for your tribes, for your family, for yourselves and your dams both now and in the future. We ride for that honor, in the name of the great Durza! We slaughter our enemies! His enemies, let them know his name, our name and fight!"
Racious bellowing and cheers, pure passion in the form of sound echoed across the plains, finally alerting the innocent humans to the slaughter to come. Their sharp screams echoed back, piercing his soul and leaving him in near tears.
'I pray that this is worth it.'
They charged, a sound unlike any more, the very earth trembled as they flew across the plains. Powerful steps tearing up the lands and scaring the birds away in every direction. The stench of fear a palpable thing as they approached the terrified villagers. The collection of shacks and houses, most just barely more then a hut with a chimney, a sad reminder of the lack of corruption or influence these people could have on the world.
They were just surviving... but it didn't matter. Durza gave an order...
A women was the first death, gathering her terrified children close to her body as she struggled to lead them in the heart of the village. She was unable to stop the full body tackle of a Kull, slamming into her and stepping on young child, killing both on impact.
He expected bile to fill his mouth as he watched an unbridled slaughter of what had to be three hundred people, people that so scarcely fought back... but it didn't come. Cold washed over him, the taste of blood in air set his skin ablaze. His joints and muscles ached and with that power literally begging to surge forth, he gave in entirely.
Running ahead of the other Urgals, leaping over blood and nearly tripping over a patch of blood, he burst into a home. A women screamed out, rushing towards the back room while a bigger man, thin from the winter but built with powerful muscles, charged him.
"Traitor to your own kind, serving those monsters!" With scythe in hand, the man swung at him, snarling with frustration as Yomir dodged the almost sluggish speed of the entirely mortal creature before him. "We did nothing to you or those beasts!" His voice choked with tears as the sounds of growls and bellows and desperate screams filled the air. "You are a monster!"
Ducking under a strike, Yomir finally retaliated. With minimal force, he slammed his fist into the man's knee, the loud sharp snap filled the hut. His wife shrieked at the sound, and despite her fear she hurried to her husband who fell with a shocked gurgle of agony. Grabbing the man by the shoulder, he threw him at the women, slamming them both to the ground and knocking her out.
Shifting the axe in his hand, he approached the couple, taking in their fear and pain and waited for disgust to birth it's way in his heart.
Nothing came...
"Goodbye."
Their heads rolled across the floor as he swung.
"How easy it is... to murder them, as if they were nothing. Does this make me a beast, a monster as they said... I wonder..."
Turning on heel, he ran out of the building, and quickly chased down a young boy, maybe sixteen at most. The boy recoiled and screamed, the butchers knife in his hand knocked away with a simple swat to his wrist. His struggles ended in seconds as Yomir dug his face into the boy's throat, the rich warmth of his blood was tainted with delicious fear, numbing him even further to the horrors of his actions.
Empowered by the blood he threw the boy aside, and slew three others with swings of his axe, carving off arms and spilling one's guts. A devastating sight, but one he embraced.
The slaughter lasted less then half an hour before they were called back to the heart of the village. It was here that a sight finally shattered his calm.A spear stuck in the center of the village, surrounded by a pile of corpses. The body of an infant, still at it's mother's breast, had been thrust onto the spear. Taking a step back, the sight forced him to look around, take in the utter slaughter he participated in. Smoke and ash, countless bodies lay around in pieces.
'Honor... there is no honor in this Nar Garzvahog, this was pointless slaughter of a people who could barely fight back...'
Sadness didn't come, only an exhausted acceptance and the hope that it would be enough to keep Durza happy.
A cold rush, all too familiar, shot through him with that thought as Durza's presence returned to his mind. 'Oh I am very happy with your activities. You didn't kill too many, sadly, but you proved that you can do as your told. Always a valuable trait... Now I have a new task for you. This bloodlust has created several deserters, those who will leave the tribes to butcher their way across the land.
Your task, no matter how satisfying their actions would otherwise be for me, is to chase them down and tear them apart. One by one, with axe or dagger or arrow or your teeth. I want no survivors. I cannot have anyone free of my control, what message would that send to the others. No, there must be consequences. You have your orders.
I expect results."
Shuddering at the touch of the Shade's evil consciousness, he still managed a nod. 'I understand... where am I to start? Do I wait for the others to leave first?'
"You will have too... now, be a good boy and do as your told. I do not want to have to punish you, my quota for torment is already a bit full at the moment but I can always make room for you."
With that lovely reminder, Yomir walked to the closest house and sat, watching the majority of the Urgals slowly trickle out of the village, marching to slaughter another village he was sure. He wait there, occasionally drinking from one corpse or another, savoring the power and restoring his strength as much as he could until the Moon was high in the sky.
It was then and only then that he turned his senses to their highest level, heat markers dancing across his eyes as he saw the Urgal traitors Durza had spoken of...
He had a task and he would fulfill it.
It was his life or theirs, and he knew who he would pick... now and forever.
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
This is a badass powerful chapter. Shorter then I'd like but still longer then most of the others. I am working on it but I do not own a copy of the first book, but I do own all of the others. A pain in the ass...
I hope you enjoyed this slaughter and you know where we are in canon...
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.