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Andre Clarke
Writer - Knysna South Africa...see showcase for current work' Dreamtime' below...
Prologue
The insistent wind whirled around the plains, turning the long, olive coloured grass into a undulating sea of green. The afternoon sky was deepening gradually, and the lonely figure on the gentle hills continued his steady but determined pace, seemingly unwary of the many unseen dangers impatiently awaiting the onset of night. Clad in a long black travelling cloak, the wanderer was carrying a tall wooden staff, the top embedded with an unusually bright jewel. Strange enough attire by our standards, but the strangest thing of all was not the figure’s clothing. What wasn’t covered by dull robes and a cloak, was
covered in luxuriant grey fur. The creature paused, adjusted his eye glasses and sniffed. Although his other senses were as sharp as ever, his eyesight was not quite what it was when he was a cub, necessitating the mildly uncomfortable eyeglasses, a gift from friends of the race of Men. His acute sense of smell told him he was near his destination - the smell of fresh game roasting on an open fire was pungent in his nostrils. The wanderer knew he had to hurry - the sun was already sinking
and time was short. Soon the small village was finally in sight.
It was protected by a high wall made from tree trunks, their exposed ends sharpened to points.
The huts were made of mud and stone, with thatched roofs of a tough kind of reed. Toward the south end of the village was a small waterfall, culminating in a gentle stream which flowed through the village centre. Large stone statues, which crudely resembled our grey-furred wanderer, surrounded the outer wall, imposing in the dying daylight.
Half running, half walking the roughly paved pathway that lead to the great wooden gate in the village wall, the creature gruffly greeted the four guards. Although their fur ranged from pale bronze to dark speckled grey, these guards were also of the same kind as our wanderer, although appearing much younger and armed with sturdy spears, serrated knives and cured hide shields. Bowing their heads and putting their large right paws over their hearts in a gesture of deep respect, the guards let him through the gate.
Inside the sturdy wall, many more of the strange creatures were busily preparing for a great feast. The wanderer stopped a moment to ponder the activities. Great open fires were being tended to, with delicious-smelling meat roasting on large skewers. Great bowls of honey beer and shiny goblets of fruit wine for the peoples of Elves andMen were being poured. There was much laughter and merriment in the air. Again thinking of how his Throwing Bones’ prediction of ill omen could not have come at a worse time, when all should be happy and filled with hope, our wanderer sadly turned back to the path, his thoughts heavy in his mind. Shortly he reached the large stone and mud hut of the chieftain. Just underneath the thatched roof, the huge skull of a Great Plains lion had been carefully displayed. The wanderer glanced at the skull, and for a brief moment the jewel in his staff seemed to glow brightly with pale blue light. Rapping loudly on the hut’s heavy wooden door with his staff, he tapped a complicated rhythm, clearly a secret message or password of some kind. With a loud creak, the door slowly opened. Another one of the furry creatures answered, this one clearly female with a plump, kindly face, wearing a sort of leather apron decorated with elegant abstracted flowers. “Lord Shaman W’onto!” she said with astonishment and a little awe. “Great welcomes!” “Great welcomes to you too Sel’a,” responded our wanderer, his name finally revealed. “I have come to speak to your master and lady in the direst urgency.” The grim expression on his face frightened the female. “Please come in Lord Shaman,” said Sel’a nervously, “I’ll summon them at once. Please sit before the fire, and
you are welcome to some of the master’s fine honey beer.” “Many thanks Sel’a.” said W’onto, stepping into the hut and lowering his hood. “I think I would like to try some.”
Even as Sel’a scuttled off to summon the chieftain and his wife, W’onto was unsure of what to say. For a moment he soaked up the warmth and brightness of his old friend’s home. The large main room was circular in shape, with a few smaller rooms and passages leading off to the left and right. The small round windows, the simply decorated wooden furniture, the rugs, the decorative weapons and tapestries, the clay, stone and porcelain ornaments and implements all added to the feelings of homeliness and simple comfort.
Whether they understood the seriousness of the danger the entire village and it’s visitors were facing or not, it was the the lack of clarity of the omen that bothered W’onto the most. He had thrown the Bones again and again, with the same vague and frustrating results. Even the most effective Seeing Spells he knew did not help to enhance the Bones’ predictions. Strangely, even though these Seeing Spells were some of the weakest Magicks, the spells had exhausted him, yet still to no avail. Time was short, and there was much at stake. As frustrated as he was, W’onto knew he had done the only thing he could have - he had to come to the village to warn the chieftain in person. The Bones’ sudden warnings had come that very midday, too soon to send messenger owls or crows. It was also extremely difficult (especially after mysteriously tiring himself so much with the Seeing
Spells) to effectively convey a warning with the use of Magick. W’onto also thought this manner cowardly. He had to come in person.
Regardless of the vagueness of the Bones’ predictions, W’onto was sure beyond any doubt that the doom foretold would befall this small Monengai village, on this night - a night that was supposed to be one of joyous celebration.
“W’onto the Wanderer. Greatest of the Shaman Lords! Yes - possibly even the greatest living Monengai!”
“Great Welcomes Kylu my old friend. I am not certain how accurate that description is, but I thank you nonetheless.”
The two old friends embraced, then put right paw to right paw, as was the custom of their people, the Monengai.
The chieftain, Kylu, also had a white mane like W’onto, but it was longer and fuller. He was large for one of his kind, standing nearly five feet tall. His fur was a beautiful golden brown, with slightly darker patches under his eyes. As with all Monengai, his paws and feet were large in comparison to the rest of him, but Kylu’s forearms, legs, upper arms, chest and shoulders were particularly thickly muscled. He wore the basic leather tunic that mostmale Monengai wore, with a simple but well crafted mail vest over it. Around his neck he wore the beads of a chieftain, and in his mane a complicated and colourful headdress
of feathers. W’onto could not help but notice the pinkishwhite, jagged scar that ran across his left eye,
no fur grew at all. “It is truly a happy day to see you my friend.
The years have been too many. I am truly pleased and honoured you have come for
the feasting and celebrating!” Kylu said.“Many are to attend! Let us also not
forget the honour soon to be bestowed on you - the title of Lord High
Shaman!” “Thanks you Kylu.” Said W’onto.
“The birth of twin cubs to Monengai will always be a good omen.
Especially when the father is one of the greatest chieftains of all time.”
Kylu smiled broadly, exposing his sharp, strong-looking canines. “Thank you old
friend. You must know, of all the guests coming tonight - I most look forward to
your company and that of Akah!” “You saved Akah’s life more than once, and
he has saved yours more than once,” said W’onto, “your mutual gratitude has made your
friendship strong. But enough of this talk of old times, we need to speak urgently Kylu. Tell me,
where is Liara?”
Still smiling, Kylu led W’onto to a smaller room on the far side. With great anticipation, W’onto stepped inside The room was rather small, but even brighter and cheerier than the main room, the small round windows facing West and the setting sun. Apart from a few basic tables and a simple cupboard, the room was nearly empty save for a large carved wooden crib. Next to it stood Liara, chieftainess and wife of Kylu. Liara was slimly built, slender even for a female of her kind. She too had a mane of white hair, but it was full and very long, and shone in the last of the gentle sunset light. Upon her brow was a blue gemstone, beautiful in it’s simplicity, matching the light blue of her elegant garments. Like Kylu, her eyes were bright green, almost luminous in their piercing gaze with slitted pupils like a cat’s, a direct contrast to W’onto’s deep amber eyes behind his little
eyeglasses. Her fur was a deep and soft brown. Among her own people, she was known as a Monengai of rare beauty, and like her husband, she was adored and respected by many.
“Lord Shaman. As always it is a great happiness to see you again. Welcome to our home and the celebration of our twins’ birth!” said Liara, embracing W’onto warmly.
“My dear old pupil. It is indeed a joy to see you both again.” smiled W’onto. “Now, I would dearly like to have a look at the cubs. It is, after all, in their honour we should be feasting tonight!”
Liara’s pointed ears twitched at the word ‘should”, but said nothing. She gently pulled a blanket away, allowing W’onto a better view of their twins, lying on their crane’s feather pillows.
“Uncle W’onto, meet Fereyel and Garfen.” Said Liara
softly. W’onto stared at the twin cubs with wonder. They were beautiful, each cub had inheriting their fur
colour from one parent. One had Kylu’s golden colour, the other their mother’s dark brown. Strong
and healthy, these twins were destined to lead the Monengai to a new age of glory. Yet how could
fate be so wicked? One of the greatest days in living memory tainted with the knowledge of a
terrible but unknown threat? The dark cub seemed to be sleeping peacefully,
whilst the lighter twin was stirring, mewling softly.
“I see Fereyel’s had enough of sleep for now.” Said
Kylu with much love in his words.
“They are both wonderful, and blessed of Nhubis. They
will grow up strong and lead all Monengai to a new
dawning of peace, justice and honour. If we move them
to a safe place.” Said W’onto solemnly.
“What do you mean?” asked Liara, her eyes wide
with sudden worry.
“I am afraid I have not come with good news my old friends. This very day, I threw the Bones to see how the gods were planning to bless the cubs and this great day,” said W’onto somlemnly, “instead the Bones warned me of great danger facing the village tonight, in the midst of the revelry.”
“Can you be sure?” Asked Kylu, already knowing full well there was none better at interpreting Throwing Bones than W’onto.
“Yes, sadly I am certain, but as to what the danger is I have no answer. All I know is, we must warn everyone and leave the village as soon as possible.”
“It shall be difficult W’onto.” Said Kylu, his anger and fear causing him to forget to address his friend with the respect due.
“Elves are coming tonight. All the way from Westernmost, as well as from Estolath, and they never travel. We cannot warn them all in time.”
“I know Kylu.” Said W’onto. “There is no choice. I wish there was, but it will be safest if we leave. This I know.
“Akah and many of his greatest warriors are coming W’onto!” Said Liara, her voice loud with panic. “From Ruah - beyond the Great Desert! Also the Ledonians! Surely our warriors, with those great Men and the Elves can fight!”
“Perhaps, Liara, but I am uncertain of what the danger is. It may be the ground swallowing us all up, or a mighty flood - and no warrior could protect against the will of nature.” Said W’onto firmly but patiently. “By leaving, we save as many lives as we can.”
“It is settled then.” Said Kylu gravely. “I trust you like no other, Lord Shaman, as I do my own heart.
If you have seen this omen, I know it will come to pass. We leave immediately. I will send my most quick-footed messengers to warn as many of the travellers as we can.”
“I shall take Fereyel and Garfen.” Said Liara. Summoning Sel’a, she instructed her to pack warm clothing for the cubs. “Sel’a and I will start gathering the female folk. Uncle W’onto, you must lead our villagers to safety.”
“I will my Dear Liara. Kylu, you must summon the warriors and any able male. This will not be easy, but we must do what we can. We must head west towards the Forest of Estolath - a dangerous journey to be sure, but the Elves will offer their protection and no evil lurks within a few miles of that sacred place. It is our safest option.”
“Agreed,” said Kylu. “At the very least, we may be able to warn many of the Elves travelling here to turn back and fight with us if we have to.”
Liara bravely gathered up both cubs in her arms and wrapped them in blankets. Despite their gentleness, Liara and Sel’a could not prevent both twins crying loudly. “Hush now,” said Liara calmly. “We will protect you with our own lives my beloved little ones.”
W’onto looked at Kylu. Let us hope it does not come to that both their eyes said.
W’onto had done all that he could. Standing on the small hill of the chieftain’s home, he watched the sudden and hasty preparations with concern. A large crow landed on one of the smaller carved statues nearby, cawing raucously.
“It is by Nhubis’s blessing I arrived early enough to convince Kylu and Liara.” W’onto thought. “If only I could have arrived even sooner.” After sniffing the air one last time for any apparent signs of the danger to come, W’onto shuffled down the path to the centre of the village, helping all wherever he could, the jewel on his staff glowing bright as a star. Night had finally fallen and there were yet many hours til the dawn.
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