OCTT : BOOK THREE : A TALE OF TWO QUEENS : SUMME - PROLOGUE (DRAFT)

Prologue

Ashlouis, 1243 AF

“Geetham if you bend over anymore you will fall head long into the perilous black waters below and swiftly find yourself being gobbled up by one those fantastic beasts, their great jaws as wide as this very boat!” the elder Oruran brother commanded as he poked his youngest brother with a rod. Albi watched his youngest sibling, his thin body bent over the edge of the small fishing boat, the tips of his fir coat teasing against the cool waters as the silver light of the full moon washed over his ice-blonde locks. The night was cooler than previous nights, the light winds touched by the fingers of the on-coming wintur flakes which soon would fall over the crop-ridden lands of Summe and plunge the poor and poverty stricken people of the north into another harsh wintur, a wintur in which the wealthy filled their bellies and pockets, blind to the cries of pitifully hunger and desperation of those dependent upon their increasingly unjust masters. Surrounding their little boat, its frame old and worn, were many similar boats, all of them filled with the wondrous faces of his friends and neighbours, all of them marked with the stamp of their misfortune, its traces upon their gaunt faces, worn clothes and conflicted eyes, for the occasion for hunting splelin for food had passed, and little had been caught and so many understood that after this night of celebration a great hardship would make itself known. In his heart, Albi knew that the proud hearts of his fellow men would soon turn sour and that in the near future, civil conflict would ensue between the prosperous few and those fighting to survive.

“But brother look at them! The colours of the Día showers flow through them!” Geetham cried out with excitement as he swept the tips of his small fingers across the cold sea water, the large splelin creatures swimming beneath their small boat, the mother’s cub’s following close behind. Geetham, his body still hanging over the edge of the boat, felt his long locks of braided blonde hair fall over his shoulders and fall into the dark waters. Mesmerised by the dancing sea creatures, greatly favoured by summerian history and wound within the tales of his people, Geetham spotted the reflection of the heavenly stars above and felt his cool breath leave his mouth with awe. Only once a year did the great creatures pass by the northern coast of Summe, by-passing the northern city of Ashlouis and the small island of Frye which lay to the north, but ten miles away. Looking up, he spotted the distant lights of the torches of the fryrians who stood upon their beaches in celebration of the great event. It was, ironically, the only time in the year were one could visibly see the secretive clan, whose island was off bounds to Sumerians. Supposedly, in accordance with folk lore and history, the fryrian people were the oldest clan in the north and were deeply immersed in the old magic, which was now almost extinct among the other clans who dealt in the dealings of relatively new structure of magical law. It was said among the clans of Summe, that the fryrians were direct descendants of the first men and held a great well of knowledge. Many had tried and failed to connect with the clan, no one yet to return from their venture to the island.

His head filled with the magic of the night and of the ethereal Sumerian music which flowed into the night sky like shooting arrows of poetry, their pointed tips finding the beating hearts of those below. Wisps of sea air covered his youthful face, which was now reflected upon the black waters below. Geetham turned to his elder brothers, Albi and Durnab and found them deep in conversation, their breaths mingling into a cloud of warm heat.

“I swear brother, he heard those very words from Lord Muta himself,” Durnab said under his breathe, his heavy cloak of dier fur huddled about his strong frame. His green gaze poured into his elder brother’s eyes, a faint blue. “A storm is coming brother and we are unprepared, they say a great dragon, conjured from death itself flies this way!”

“Lord Muta talks from his ass,” Albi hissed under his breath, his hatred for the young and arrogant Lord long held and indeed deep to the core. “When he isn’t pricking the honeypot’s of Ashlouis he is spewing sensational lies, merry with the prospect of war and the opportunity to finally turn his eyes to the city of Nor, which we all know holds a certain gleam, not only in his eyes but his fathers. The man is a traitor to our people and has blinded the men of this once fine and highly regarded city,” Albi went on as he rowed onwards, his eyes turning to the figure of his youngest brother. “Muta is thirsty for the blood of his enemies, ever since his father was banished from Summe for breaking the fellowship. You mustn’t be lead astray by his false teachings, you must keep your eyes clear and your mind focused. We are to face a harsh wintur, especially as the crops have failed us yet again. Perhaps Lord Muta and his father should keep their own eyes upon their people, for if they do not they will soon be turned over to the wolves.”

“Why do you hate him so?” Durnab quizzed his elder brother as he sat away from him and looked across at the great city he loved so dearly. They all of them had inherited their father’s ice-blonde hair, sharp features, tall frames and his blue eyes, but for Durnab whose eyes were uncannily like their mothers, “What has he ever done to you?”

“Have you forgotten how his father treated our own parents?” Albi whispered with anger, his gaze gleaming with white rage. “He had them hanged for a crime they did not commit.”

“Brother, I was there that night and saw our father steal grain from the caves,” Durnab returned with a growl. “He knew the peril he put his own family in when he decided to act the martyr!”

“He was feeding the poor and needy, those who couldn’t afford to pay the heavy taxes inflicted upon them by a greedy Lord,” Albi almost cried with dismay. “He was acting as their aid when they were left to rot and die like rats. What would you have him do? Betray all that he believed in?”

“I would have had him think of us brother,” Durnab hissed as he drew his gaze to the youngest sibling. Albi followed his brothers gaze and felt his heart sink deep within. “If his thoughts had been on his children, then perhaps we would not be needlessly begging for scraps ourselves. Perhaps our mother would still be alive.”

Albi knew well how his younger brother had adored his mother, having always been glued to her side. He was in her likeness as was Geetham, but he was in his father’s likeness and was unduly blessed with his concrete principles and morals and had taken up the flame of generosity since their execution. He felt terrible guilt and shame for his brothers and had worked endlessly to keep them fed and sheltered, but he knew that this wintur would kill many of his friends and their families, but for the greed of their master and his war-mongering son. Money had been strict and taxes high, especially now that Anvin, the High Priest of the North and Lord of Summe had invested a great deal of gold into the building of new ships and defence of the island. He agreed that the island did indeed need better protection, but the cost of such an investment had hit the clans of the north hard, yet the pockets of the masters were filling with coin. It puzzled Albi that the lining of his master’s pockets was filling despite the failing of crops and blood-hurling poverty which had stricken the northern clans particularly hard. He understood from those close to him that corruption had seeped into the minds of those once noble and strong houses, how they had acquired such funding was still to be determined. If war was indeed coming, Albi knew for certainty that the city of Ashlouis would fall and death reign victorious, for the southern clans had forgotten the promises of old and laws laid down by the elders. The high priest himself had turned a blind eye to the suffering of his people. The future was bleak, but Albi refused to bow his knew before fear and death. He would hold the master’s accountable for their greed and corruption when the time was right.

“Geetham!” Durnab cried out in horror as he caught sight of the boy slipping into the freezing waters below, his body so thin that no sound of a sudden splash unfolded. Had his eyes strayed but for a moment, Geetham’s fall into the sea would have gone un-noticed.

“Hold the oars!” Albi cried out as he threw his oar into his brother’s chest and quickly discarded himself of his cloak. Without another word, he jumped in after his brother and felt the arrows of ice pierce at his body as he swam downwards, his heavy fir coat turning heavy as the salty waters seeped into it without mercy, his body suddenly becoming unbearably heavy as he searched the darkness below for his brother. Geetham sank ever deeper, his arms outstretched and his eyes wide with horror, the great sea beasts swimming perilously close to them both. Sighting his brother as he spun about in the wild waters, his body bouncing of two great splelin, Albi swam down through the icy darkness, his brother’s large eyes on him in fear. Geetham stretched out a hand, the haunting colours of the sea creatures illuminating his small frame and pale face. With force and with determination, Albi caught his brothers hand and pulled him towards him, a cloak of bubbles surrounding them both as Geetham found his brother’s strong frame and grabbed on to him for dear life. Flapping his feet and legs as hard as he could, Albi sought the waters above, their bodies swaying viciously against the currents, the underbellies of the boats bobbing up and down above them. With a great cry, Albi flung himself out of the water, throwing Geetham up into the cold air. The air above had changed dramatically, and as the brothers held onto each other, they felt the sea instantly relax and the winds die.

“Brother hand him to me!” Durnab commanded in desperation, his body slung over the side of the boat, his arms ready for the shaking Geetham, whose body stilled in Albi’s, his dark eyes turned to the sky above. A frown furrowing deep into his brow, Albi followed his brother’s gaze and saw a thousand sparks of fire light up the dark skies above. He knew instantly the arrows of fire which screeched through the cold air, their blazing fire coming ever closely to earth as they suddenly darted downwards, directly aimed for all those beneath. Around them cries of fear began to ring out as the drums of ceremony fell into silence.

“Albi what are those?” Geetham asked through chattering teeth as he was handed up into their father’s boat, a shaking index finger flung into the air above them. His frozen hands clinging onto the edge of the boat, the currents beneath becoming stronger with every passing second, Albi followed his brother’s finger and caught sight of a great storm of red fire sweeping through the sky, piercing the fine starlight with little care.

“Arrows!” Durnab cried out with unmissable anxiety as he dropped his brother into the boat and sought the oars, Albi climbing in behind Geetham.

“Geetham get down now!” Albi ordered the shaking Geetham whose eyes had grown very large with fear. With force. Albi took to his feet and turned to his fellow people.

“Row back to the city! Row as fast as you can!” he cried out, the eyes of those close by turning to him in dismay. “We are under attack!”

With his words, the ocean about him turned into an array of confusion and haste as the men leading the boats hastily turned them about and began to row desperately, in search of the shoreline which was thinly illuminated by torches. It was Albi knew, too late, for the arrows of fire found their targets and a great many boats were set ablaze and men, women and children killed instantly. Turning his eyes to the island of Frye, Albi witnessed one of the seven great flames of the north alit, its message now being felt across the ancient city of Ashlouis. To the distance upon the sea, great ships bearing the flag of Galgor came into sight, another great cloud of blazing arrows being shot up into the dark abyss above, their screeches freezing the hearts of those under their gaze. Albi felt his brothers rough slap upon his back and turned to face the great fleet of Galgorian ships, now within sight as the fiery arrows brought light to their flags of red and black which bore the face of the great northern wolf. Beneath the stormy seas, the splelin were in a state of confusion, their great bodies of miraculous light turning in all directions as though the ancient scent which lead them north had become nothing but scent of times gone by. They began to crash against one another, their peaceful moods turning to those of uncertainty, anger and a need to find safety as arrows rushed down through the waters and pierced their thick skin. The baby cubs were the first victims of the invasion, many of them lying dead upon the dark waters, their blood of sky blue creating veins of colour upon the ceiling of the sea. Albi felt a sting of pain as he looked down upon the dead carcasses of baby splelin, their distraught mothers raising their great heads into the air and letting out a dreadful howl of grief, a pitiful cry so deep that the earth beneath them shook with vengeance. About him chaos reigned victor as the innocent men, women and children rowed desperately to the shores of Ashlouis, hundreds of bodies being struck down by fire and death. Albi turned to his brother Geetham with fierce eyes.

“Lie down low!” he commanded with rage as he took one of the oars and rowed with such defiance and pain that buds of tears fell from his eyes, the horrific cries of death mixed with the drums of the invaders looming overhead. As they rowed, the beach but three hundred metres away, the cries and sounds of drumming came to a still as a great gust of warm wind swept over the innocent victims, the gust of wind such that the flames of torches fell into darkness.

“Brother what was that?” Durnab whispered with shaking hands, his eyes filled with terror as the world about them fell into darkness and disorder. Albi looked about, his gaze catching the multitudes of drowned corpses as they bobbed against the small boats, many of them children.

“I don’t know…”

Again, a great gust of warm wind swooped over them, followed by a hollow noise which touched the spines of everyone under its command. Geetham crawled into his brother’s arms as they watched a great shadow cast itself over the city before them, all the torches extinguished in one breath.

“What is this devilry?” Durnab exclaimed, his words falling into a void as a great and piercing crying rang out across the skies, followed by a great streak of white fire which poured down over the city like a waterfall.

“What in the name of the God’s!” Albi cried out in shock as he threw himself towards the front of the boat, his eyes and those eyes of everyone about him speckled with the light of the white fire.

“A dragon!” a young woman cried out from afar. “A dragon flies over the city!”

“Albi!” Geetham screamed as the city of Ashlouis burned with white fire, the distant cries of those trapped beneath its merciless wrath echoing out across the waters.  Albi saw the great shape of a dragon as it spun through the air over the city, its piercing cry, which reminded him of the scraping of metal against metal once more seeped into the hearts of those who looked on.

“What the hell is going on!” Durnab asked his brother in a hurry as Albi sat back and took up his oar once more.

“I have no idea, but that dragon looks nothing skin to those of the north!” Albi said with anger as they rowed onwards, the shoreline ever closer and dotted with fleeing figures who sought shelter in the nearby sand dunes.

“The dragon!” Geetham called out. “The dragon is headed towards us!”

“Shit!” Albi cried out as he watched in terror as the great beast took to the skies and soared down silently in their direction with such elegance that those who looked upon its terrifying form were for a moment transfixed.

“Someone flies upon its back; can you not see brother!” Durnab rushed, his brow covered in a thick sweat. Albi spotted the figure as he grabbed a hold of Geetham and flung him back into the water.

“Get into the water now!” he commanded Durnab with urgency as he threw down his oar and followed Geetham into the ice-cold waters below, grabbing a hold of his younger brother’s collar. “Get into the water” he cried out to those around him. “Take cover under your boats now!”

Seeing sense in his words, Durnab hurled himself into the waters with a scream, many of those close to them following suite. Albi knew that the city would soon fall to the enemy and knew that swimming to the eastern shores would prove deadly. Holding a scared Geetham close to him, he and his brother turned their small boat upside down.

“Get under the boat,” he ordered Geetham with haste. “We must swim to the shore and head west, the city will soon fall and the soldiers will soon be upon the waters!”

“We will never make it!” Durnab returned as he caught the edge of the boat and began to kick his legs out behind him.

“We have no choice, we either die in the water or we make it to the western shores!” Albi called out from beneath the boat as Geetham wrapped his arms about his brother’s neck. “Now kick your legs and do not stop, no matter what you hear! Do you hear me brothers?”

“Yes!” they cried out in unison as they began to kick their legs with haste, the cry of the dragon breathing down over them, followed by a deadly heat which sent flares of intense warmth through the cold waters, miraculously warming their legs and bodies. The distressing cries of those being burned alive sent such a wave of devastation into the hearts of those making for the shores of Ashlouis. Behind him he heard Geetham cry with grief as he clung to Albi for dear life.

“Were going to die!” Geetham shouted as he gulped down another mouthful of sea water.

“No, we are not!” Albi cried out in defiance. “We are not going to perish this night; do you hear me!”

The cries of his brother ringing through his ears, Albi kicked as hard as he could, knowing the beach to be but five minutes away. But as he kicked, he found his legs becoming numb under the ice-cold temperatures, the warmth which had kept them swimming now distant. He looked under the rim of the boat and saw a great many boats aflame in the distance.

“Brother look! Look beneath the waters!” Durnab declared as he stopped kicking his legs and simply stayed afloat. Turning his eyes to the water beneath, Albi caught sight of a great splelin as it swam beneath them, its great body rising to meet with their own.

“Albi, do they eat humans!” Geetham cried out as they were hurled into the air above, their boat falling out of their hands and into the sea beneath. Albi plunged his hands down into the creatures scaled body, Geetham wrapping his arms about his brother’s cold body. Albi looked down into Geetham’s pale face.

“No!”

As they were being driven through the waters, Albi spotted a dozen more creatures, all of them with men, women and children upon their backs. They were calling out to one another beneath the waters, their chant beautiful and haunting against the screams of death which echoed out above.

“They are helping us Albi! The splelin are saving us!” Durnab cried out with joy as they were taken through the cold waters to the shore. Albi looked behind him, his gaze falling across a great plain of fire and death, with countless boats aflame and many people fighting to stay afloat beneath the waters. The deadly dragon had flown away in the direction of the city once again, reigning down yet more white fire. The night of chaos was only in its early stages and Albi knew that the days to come would bring yet more fire and death. Drawing his eyes away from the scene of destruction, Albi felt the creature stop as they came to the quiet shores.

“Quick we must make for the beach!” Durnab said quickly as he threw himself down into the waters, afraid to touch the creature which had saved him from certain death. Seeing him dart through the rough waves, followed by a dozen or so citizens, Albi climbed down from the creature, his feet finding the floor of the sea. The water now up to his shoulder, he reached up for Geetham and brought him down into his arms. Before turning away from the beautiful creature, Albi stretched out a hand, his eyes pouring into the mythical creature’s great eye, which reminded him of an endless pool of light. Lightly he placed his splayed hand over the creature’s face.

“Thank you,” he said aloud with feeling, his body cold and his head somewhat electrified by the cool temperatures. Hanging onto him for dear life, Geetham stretched out a hand and touched the creature gently. Its skin felt like silk beneath his touch and with fright, he felt the creature vibrate as though in response to his words of gratitude. “We will never forget the sacrifice you have made for us.”

Before he could say anymore, the creature let out of a cry which vibrated through the waters and with a great turn of its head, dived down into the depths of the black waters below, its great tail flapping wildly against the waves as it swam away into the darkness, followed closely by its retreating family. Taking Geetham, Albi swam ashore and was met by his shaking brother, whose clothes now stuck to his thin body, his feet without shoes. Falling to the wet sand beneath, Albi felt Geetham roll of his body and fall to his side. Suddenly, he felt heavy and unable to move.

“Brother, we must move before the soldiers reach the beach!” Durnab declared as he looked out across the ocean, noticing boats now upon the horizon, filled with soldiers, their torches of fire casting a sombre glow over the dead bodies of summerian civilians. His breath coming in phases, Albi looked up into his brothers face and nodded.

“Help me up!”

Together, Geetham and Durnab helped their brother onto his feet. The family made their way to the dunes, following the stream of survivors, many of them carrying the lifeless bodies of their loved ones over their shoulders. Every step felt like a lifetime and every breath drawn felt like one of the many arrows of fire. The survivors in their silence, climbed up the mountains of sand and upon reaching the top, fell to their bottoms and slide down the other side, all of them meeting within the circle of sand at the foot of the dune, many upon the ground in silent grief and a few walking around in disorientated shock, all of them barely clothed, their eyes sharing in the same glint of horror. Albi looked around the huddled group of men, women and children and bent over, his hands grabbing a hold of his knees. The dead bodies of loved ones lay strewn across the cold sand, many with their arms outstretched and locks of wet hair stuck to their faces. In the distance, the sound of drumming filled the air, alerting Albi to the nearness of their enemies.

“We need to leave now!” Albi tried to say as he grappled with the salt water and sand now stuck to the lining of his throat. His words failing to alert the disorientated people around him, he began to wave his arms frantically. Catching sight of his brothers waving arms, Durnab came to his side.

“Brother what is it?”

“We need to flee now! The soldiers are coming! Can you not hear their drums?”

“But where are we to go?”

“We must flee to the village of Til! We must alert the north!” Albi coughed roughly as he spat up another mouthful of salt water.

“Brother these people will never make it,” Durnab whispered into his brother’s ear hotly. “Look at them!”

Albi knew that the men, women and children about him were in deep shock, but he would be damned if they were to simply be killed outright without a fight. Angered by his brother’s lack of hope, Albi caught his arm and felt his hand tighten about his brother’s wrist.

“We need to flee now!” he said with fiery eyes. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes brother, yes, I hear you,” Durnab said in fear, never before seeing his brother so vexed. Albi closed his eyes briefly in relief, his forceful words having awoken his brother. Albi felt his hand fall away from Durnab as he straightened his back and turned his eyes to those around him.

“We must flee before the soldiers make shore!” he said aloud, his throat dry and his legs faint. “We must leave the deceased behind, there is no time in which to carry them.” He could see the inflicted shock in the eyes of those who looked upon him and understood their hesitant shaking of heads. “Listen, we don’t have time in which to argue, you either wish to live or die. Either way, I intend on living through the night, we must warn our friends of the enemy!”

“Can we not bury the dead?” a young father cried out, his child’s dead body lying within his arms.

“I wish we could, but we do not have the time,” Albi said with as much kindness as was possible in such a moment. “You can choose to stay behind or you can choose to follow me. You have five minutes in which to say goodbye to your loved ones.”

His youngest sibling curled up into a ball of shock and dismay, Geetham tucked his head down into his legs, unable to allow his eyes to roam over the countless dead bodies before him. Spotting him, Albi crawled over to his brother and prised away his cold and rigid arms away from his legs. Blinking down heavily, he clasped his brother’s arms and sought his gaze.

“Geetham we must leave now, can you walk?”

“My legs are cold,” Geetham whispered with chattering teeth, his ice-blonde hair stuck to his gaunt cheeks.

“Then I will carry you,” Albi announced as he brought himself to his feet and with shaking arms reached down for Geetham. Without another word, Geetham reached up to his brother and was soon brought into his arms. Holding him with a dash of uncertainty, Albi turned to a quiet Durnab, who stood upon the top of the sand-dune, his eyes cast out across the sea. “Durnab it is time!” Durnab turned about slowly, his pale face falling slowly, his green eyes flashing with anger.

“I told you that war was coming, and you didn’t believe me!” he called down in frustration. “And now look at us! The city burns and our people die by white fire!”

“Durnab this is no time for arguing, we must away!”

Durnab skidded down the sand-dune and came to stand before his brother, those able to walk now ready to leave.

“Lord Muta wasn’t talking idle,” Durnab whispered darkly, his eyes unblinking.

“If he was so certain about war, why did he not warn his people?” Albi mouthed back with disgust. “Your love for the man has clouded your judgment.”

Silence fell between the brothers. Of course, Albi knew of the sexual relationship between the young lord and his naive brother, and knew that rumours were beginning to spread throughout the city of their illegal affair. What Albi didn’t know for sure, were the true intentions of Lord Muta. He was a dangerous and cunning man, who Albi believed whole-heartedly had no room for anyone else but himself. Lord Muta was using his brother, for reasons which to Albi were unclear. His gaze steady and without wavering lay upon a shocked Durnab who took an uncomfortable step back.

“How did you know?” he whispered with fear as he looked about him, scared that anyone had overheard his brothers unexpected declaration.

“It doesn’t matter how I know,” Albi said sharply as Geetham now clung onto his back. “There is no time in which to discuss this further, we must go.”

Albi walked about his brother slowly and came to stand before his friends, all of whom were huddled together, their warm cloaks of fir now drenched and ruined, upon the sand in a pile. Albi looked over their pale and withdrawn faces and felt his chest tighten with pain. In the near distance the sound of battle raged on. The bodies of the dead had been lovingly placed beside each other, a thin lining of sand upon their bodies and masking their disturbed faces. Durnab coming to stand at his side, swept away his frozen locks of hair and let out a pro-longed sigh of irritation. Feeling his brother’s tension, Albi kept his gaze upon those before him. Everyone looked lost, their sense of disorder bringing about a feeling of strength in Albi. They needed a leader and he was as often thought capable of leading his people to the town of Til. A need to protect those before him and his family took a hold of Albi, the nagging feelings of doubt surrendering to his defiant mood. This was not how the island of Summe would fall, at least not in his lifetime.

“The events of tonight will no doubt send vibrations of peril throughout our lands, and so it is up to all of us here to spread the word and aid our people in time of great trial and tribulation. We have lost a great many people this hour and will no doubt lose a great many more in the coming days and weeks, but we cannot simply give in to the enemy, no matter our positions in society. For those of you who must leave loved ones behind, I pledge you my help and life in the eyes of horror. Our people and our ancestors fought and died to preserve the greatness of this island, and so it is our duty to uphold their sacrifice. Tonight, we make for Til!”

A smile upon his lips, Albi turned about and began the long walk westwards in the direction of Til, leaving behind the burning city of Ashlouis.

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