Chapter 2: A Fallen Acorn (Yttra)

Chapter 2: A Fallen Acorn

Jhag’s head was throbbing, the first thought he registered was pain. Then it slowly began to come back to him, the journey, the moving thing and something hitting the back of his head. He was lying face down on something that felt like grass, the back of his head felt like someone had struck it hard with a piece of timber. He flipped over onto his back and looked around, he let out a loud groan as he reached a hand to the back of his head. It was crusty and he suspected it was a dried scab. It hurt like nothing he had felt before when he poked at it. He quickly realised that someone must have hit him. He noticed the lack of his companion, Keltas. He started panic, but then he heard a laugh from the trees high up above, he recognised the voice as belonging to Keltas. Keltas bounded down and landed beside Jhag with a thump, it was apparent that he was suppressing a laugh. “whats so funny, who hit me?” Jhag asked in a disdainful manner. He found it quite annoying that Keltas found his pain funny. “Because no one hit you” Keltas squeaked while still trying to hold in his laugh, a wide grin on his face “an acorn fell on your head” at this point Keltas could suppress his laugh no longer and burst out laughing once again.

Jhag groaned, he somehow knew that Keltas wasn’t ever going to stop bringing this up. A large acorn lay on the ground next to Jhag. Keltas bent down and picked it up and stuffed it into his carry-pack. “a souvenir” he claimed.

Keltas helped Jhag to his feet. “come on then” he said, the excitement still evident in his voice, his mouth was solemn but his eyes still said he was grinning inside. Jhag was silent for the next hour or so as they journeyed through the tall trees, he was still grumpy about the acorn and he tried his best to appear grumpy, flattening his ears against his head and trying to ignore the occasion snicker from Keltas. Eventually though he had to concede and he admitted that it was funny. Soon he found himself laughing as he imagined the view keltas had of him, and the sight of an acorn speeding towards his unknowing head. They were both in a merry mood as they journeyed through the dense undergrowth.

Far away over distant mountains a dark force was rising to power, an army tenfold that of any other marched east. A general rode on horseback through the desolate ruins of a village, the corpses of his enemies lay around him, they weeped blood into the snow, like a crimson river it flowed. Their faces forever frozen in a look of pure terror as their death descended on them. Man, woman and child alike lay slaughtered in frozen tundra.

Even now,as the gentle snowfall began to bury the dead the general marched on, not sparing any sorrow or even a passing glance at what he had done. His face remained unchanged, no emotion was shown, not even his deathly pallid lips were curled upwards, he donned no victorious smile. The blood of a nobleman was dripping from the blade of the axe which he held, the man had run at him in a desperate attempt to reason for his life, the general Gharnek had struck him down where he stood, a lazy swipe had slit the throat of the nobleman. He had stood there with shock on his face as his blood spilled onto his garments, woven out of southern silk, a sure sign of power. Maybe he had been the leader of the village, for after all a man of such wealth was surely a prime candidate for leadership. For all the money in the world nothing could stem the flow of blood that drained him and ruined the fine silk he donned. The man had collapsed to knees and tried to utter a final word through his ruined neck. At this point Gharnek had stopped listening and turned his attention to the village ahead of him. The nobleman died on knees and fell forwards under the marching feet of the army who neither made way for nor avoided the bloodied body. Instead they marched over him and let their armoured feet crush his bones to powder as they went.

Some people mistook Gharnek’s expression for laziness. He was not lazy, he was bored. He longed for a challenge, an army to rival him so he could rush into battle fueled by his lust and bloody his axe further. He had never once cleaned his axe and he suspected that even a nick with from its sharp edges would kill due to the poisonous mixture of blood and dirt that had formed on its blades. His army marched forever onwards into the frozen tundra east to laygendyme, a fortified city that took his fancy. He almost never let any emotion show, but the thought of taking that accursed city forced his ungodly mouth to curl upwards into what could be called a smile. The let the rhythmic noise of army’s march fill his mind, 200,000 heavy steel-clad feet pounded the earth beneath in perfect unison. Bulky steel weapons of all manner, ranging from daggers to gigantic maces were held over shoulder or under arm. The weapons rising like the peaks of jagged mountains high into the frozen air. The sight of an army such as this could make any mortal being tremble and cower in terror. They donned the wretched necklaces that once belonged to men, women and children. Some wore so many that it weighed them down, as the necks ran out of room the necklaces and bracelets alike were wrapped around arm and leg alike, forming a strange morbid layer of armour to cover the pre existing one. Some even bore sick memorials of battle by stringing ears and noses or even whole faces onto the necklaces.

The army jingled with the sound of thousands of necklaces and bracelets colliding, forming a sort of dark orchestra with the marching feet and the screams of the dying in battle. When approaching they could be heard in the distance as a faint rattling noise. For this reason alone they were known as the rattling army. They stopped neither for nothing, a wretched species of beings that neither require sustenance nor sleep. They continued their endless march through the snowy peaks and crags of the frozen north, half of their force was sent west to Ankendyme and were massing at the walls of the great western empire.

The empires of Yttra’su were savagely unaware of the power that had risen in the icy tundra of the north. The rattling army had been hiding and growing for a millennia, and now outnumbered any single standing army that the empires had to offer. Gharnek was of the belief that his kind had passed into legendary nightmares, forgotten by the people. Forgotten by all except the Estrengol, a kind that lived for millennia and were wise to the ways of time. But they too despite remembering had not bothered hunting down the final survivors of the Grentengol, who had fled to the north and created a breeding ground for themselves.After growing for 1000 years they marched again, now an army beyond comprehension, 100,000 Grentengol warriors had come from the few hundred surviving ones.

They had run into a small force of twenty Golengol warriors a few days ago, they were delivering a message to the Falendyme in the south, it was a massacre, the Golengol never stood a chance, one of them fled south after being mortally wounded, at first Gharnek had considered sending some of his force after him, but he had seen the great gash opened up in the chest of the deserter and knew that he wouldn’t make it far. It was vital to keep his army’s presence a secret. If they were kept unaware then he could strike swiftly and bring down the Golengol’s capital of Laygendyme before any help could arrive. The kingdoms had grown weak and pitiful in the absence of threat, forgotten the fury of war, growing ever fatter on their peaceful times. Now they would know fire, now they would know ruin and fear once more. The age of the Gretengol was soon to begin, as the armies converged on the great stone walls of Ankendyme and Laygendyme. Once the north was secured they would march south and destroy the Estrengol presence in Yttar’nu when they stormed Cogendyme in the blade mountains. Soon..

Back in the silent forest below the blade mountains, or the dragon tooth mountains as Jhag knew them. Jhag and Keltas had continued to trek further south, night was fast falling and he and Keltas both climbed the trees once again to rest and fall into slumber. On the climb up Jhag got a splinter in his foot-pad, upon reaching the summit of the tree he promptly sat down and pulled it out, he let out a yelp when it slid free of his now bloodied pad. He felt like a fool, he was carrying a sword and was supposed to be brave yet he yelped at the slightest discomfort. As he settled in for the fourth night of his journey he wondered how many more discomforts he would be feeling. That night he found it hard to embrace sleep, he closed his eyes and was greeted with visions of Lugendrom burning.

He awoke before the sun had begun to rise. He woke keltas and they set off on the day’s journey. The sun was shining brighter than normal today, and seemed to be emanating more heat as well. It was a stark contrast between the heat of the sun and the chill of the air itself. Jhag’s mind wandered he thought of his mother and his friends back at home in Lugendrom. All the adventures he had as a youngling, his mother scolding him for dirtying his best clothes.

He began to tingle inside as he turned to see Keltas walking the path beside him, as he thought of the adventures yet to come, and the places they were yet to see.”Keltas, what do you feel while walking this path through these grand trees?” Keltas turned to Jhag with a serious look upon his face.”I feel important, like I have a reason”. Jhag hadn’t considered how important their journey might be, he wondered how many lives they might save. He nodded in understanding of Keltas’s answer. He supposed in retrospect this was the first time he had been important on the larger scope of things. A new sense of belonging and purpose began to seep into Jhag, this reinforced his confidence as they trekked under the vast canopy of the silent forest. A few hours had gone by and Jhag and Keltas had not spoken a word to one another. The trees had grown so tightly together that the trunks seemed thicker than the gaps between them. An eerie atmosphere had descended upon the duo. Jhag was tense, he could hear his every heartbeat for there was no noise here. The silence was loud, as impossible as it sounded that was the best way to describe it. Like the buzzing of a thousand bees inside his ears. He had never known a silence such as this before, it seemed to fill every nook and cranny of his being.

That evening as he tried to sleep staring up into the starry sky he would rustle some leaves with his foot every few minutes just to tell himself he wasn’t deaf. His eyelids smothered his vision as he let sleep take hold.

The next day passed in a similar manner with few words being exchanged, the trees seemed not to get any denser seeing as if they did they would be trunk to trunk. No light could penetrate the vast leafy canopy except for the fleeting rays of sun that would dare to disturb the darkness beneath. These rays were the only reminder that it was daytime for without them there was no visual way to tell. This forest felt quite otherworldly and Jhag became increasingly aware of the lack of life populating such a place. He could see why it was dubbed the silent forest. Not a single thing stirred in between these oppressive trunks. His feelings of excitement had all but faded as the forest had grown more and more ominous. This continued for two more days before something changed radically. Jhag noticed as they were traveling that morning that there was now only one type of tree growing rather than the calamity of oaks and pines that had populated the soil further back on their journey. All of the trees were the same species of pine that had trunks a few feet thick and no branches until the very top where the branches fanned out with pine needles growing forth from the array of branches. Jhag wondered if the change was natural but he doubted so due to rapidity of the change, it had happened within the timespan of an hour of walking so he suspected the pine trees had been planted or the other trees had been removed by someone. That eve as they attempted to sleep up in the high canopy Jhag noticed that the dragon tooth mountains were nothing but tiny specks on the distant northern horizon, yet again he dreamt of a lugendrom burning under the red summer sun, he could smell the normally pleasant odor of cooking flesh made evil with the knowledge it was the flesh of his kind that was cooking in the dreadful inferno, the marching feet grew ever closer. This time Jhag noticed something else, a new sound... a rattling noise that grew louder as did the marching feet… a rattling like metal chains being colliding over… and over again.

Jhag awoke with the rattling still fresh in his ears and a headache. He had a distinct urge to unsheath his blade and he did so. He held it in one hand and ate with the other in the heights of the uppermost branches of this great tree. The light seemed to curve around the blade, almost like it was cutting light itself. The steel dragon pommel was more intricate than Jhag had at first noticed, he could see each individual scale on the dragon’s body glint in the morning light.

He had only ever seen portraits of dragons and he believed the artists who painted those hadn’t seen a dragon either and were working from the descriptions they had heard in legend. And those descriptions might have been based off a portrait painted by someone who had only heard descriptions of dragons.

He pondered when a dragon was last seen and whether the art was accurate, who knows what rumours could have been started about dragons, did they even exist? These were questions for another day Jhag thought to himself as he clambered down the trunk, having to use his claws to dig into the thick gnarled bark. Keltas was already waiting for him at the bottom of the tree and the moment Jhag hit the ground Keltas started walking, Jhag scurried to catch up, and when he did it was a struggle keeping pace. Keltas was obviously in a hurry to move “we must away with haste, something was watching us last night”. Jhag was on already short on breath but dared not slow for fear of getting separated, getting lost in a forest such as this was bad enough but if Keltas was right getting lost could mean death. “What do you mean? what was watching?”

“something was there, in the moonlit canopy among the pine needles, It was watching you and I

It was barely visible but I smelt it and found some clumps of dark green fur in the branches next to where we slept, it was barely two feet away”

Jhag shivered at the thought of an unknown horror lurking in the shadowy branches nearby unbeknownst to both of them, quietly observing them. He instinctively looked up and scanned the boughs of the gigantic trees for any sign of movement. “Its not there, I have already searched” Keltas said bluntly. It was another hour or so before Jhag spoke “what do you think it was?” Keltas remained silent for a minute before replying “something good at hiding, I looked into the darkness that I knew it occupied but I never once caught a glimpse of it”

This only made Jhag feel more uneasy, it could still be following them for all he knew, it could be behind him. At this thought Jhag felt an unnatural desire, a craving to turn around and and reassure himself it wasn’t there. But he knew this would only feed the psychosis. Instead he kept a rigid neck and resisted.

Time seemed to pass slower as their feet fell upon mile after mile of grassy dirt. Jhag needed to stop regularly to wipe his footpads clean, the dirt was collating on them. He realised that it was sticking because there had been recent rain in this area, and the sunshine was not there to dry the dirt. So it remained damp and stuck to his pads. As he wiped the dirt from them for the hundredth time that day he wondered where these foot-pads would walk next. Would it be great grassy plains? or majestic mountaintops rising up high to impale the great white clouds above?

His thoughts were cut short by Keltas reminding him that they should start moving. Jhag had only been walking another thirty minutes and he already felt a compulsion to wipe his feet clean once again. He spotted a large root and decided to scrape the dirt off on it without having to stop.

He was successful in his bemusing venture and kept the strategy in mind for future reference.

The quiet forest south of spiny peaks,

A silent place where dead men speak.

~ extract from Estrengol poem about the silent forest

The very trees here thrived on death itself, they absorbed its essence which would seep in through the soil into the roots. Many centuries ago in another age entirely Estrengol and Gretengol had waged battle on the very ground on which the silent forest had grown. They had watered the ground with the blood of thousands. The battle was forever remembered as the battle with no winners, the losses were so catastrophic that the ground was a solid mass of corpses for miles, ground was not visible through the blanket of death that coated these lands. That had been back when the kingdoms were great, armies numbering in the hundreds of thousands, vast empires spanning entire land masses, the Gretengol had shared the entire frozen north with the Golengol of Ankendyme. And the south was split between mankind and the estrengol. War was waged on the grounds now known as the silent forest. The spirits of thousands are said to soak the ground there. The trees grew upon the bones and devoured the spirits in the soil, forever corrupting the trees here. They bear strange fruit that cannot be eaten, grow acorns the size of a grown man’s head, and they shelter many a creature underneath their massive boughs.

The Golengol king looked out over the gigantic wall that bordered his kingdom of Ankendyme, he would normally look inwards to his majestic kingdom famous for its fish and wines. But today he looked outwards into the freezing desolate tundra that surrounded his kingdom, the braziers were lit at the scout outpost towers, this meant there was trouble. It was getting dark and the sun was turning the world a pale orange as it set “any word from the towers yet?” he said to his general “nothing as of now sire, should we ring the alarm bells?”.As the general spoke he was suddenly interrupted by an great booming war horn, on the horizon hundreds of flaming torches were lit almost simultaneously. He shivered, party due to the cold but mostly due to the sight before him. He could see the Gretengol war banners raised high. closed his eyes sighed, he had hoped this moment wouldn’t come while he was under the crown. “ring them, and wake the guards, we are at war” the shell shocked general clumsily saluted and ran off down the stairwell almost tripping on his garments as went two stairs at a time. The king smirked at the thousands of torches on the horizon, like a line of fireflies outlining the mountains. Now that the shock had subsided he felt exhilaration, they were at war, and they were going to win.

From the outside the massive stone walls of Ankendyme seemed to touch the clouds, it was daybreak now and archers had lined every parapet of the wall, they looked like bristles on the back of a hedgepig. The heavy steel gate had been lowered and now it spanned the entire gateway, blocking entry entirely. The bars of the gate were rounded solid steel two feet thick that were interwoven into a gigantic grid. The grid would slide down and slot perfectly into the gateway blocking all entry and exit. Crossbowmen armed the arrow slits along the length of the wall. King Kjard had summoned his full forces to put on a display of power, 5000 trained men in total. The army outside looked to be at least 20,000. More than double what Kjard had expected. They surrounded the fortress up until where it met the ocean on both sides. He had no way of sending for reinforcements from his allies, and even if he did they would not arrive for a month at least due to the vast distances. But no matter, his army had the defensive advantage. and 2000 more men in stock behind his initial force of 5000. They were still going to win. That morning his archers let loose their first volley, about 3000 arrows rained down upon the Gretengol who stood their ground and let the arrows do their worst. At this distance it was impossible to be precise so a great deal many of the arrows missed their mark entirely and some just rebounded off of the heavy helmets. Kjard estimated that they had struck down 700-1000 Gretengol with that one volley. They released a volley every hour for the entire day. Kjard was disappointed with the meager results, they had barely dented the opposing force. That evening his generals suggested a surprise counter attack on the enemy forces. But he knew they would be slaughtered if they lost the defending advantage and Kjard couldn’t afford to lose any lives. They had already lost a crossbowman who killed himself accidentally when firing through a slit in the wall, his arrow had rebounded off the stone and the sharp splinters of the arrow shaft had pierced the archers throat.The next day proceeded in a similar way with unsatisfactory results but luckily no deaths on the Ankendyme side. Women and children were being employed as fletchers to make arrows for the army, they were running low. On the third day the Gretengol returned a volley of fire, not a single life was lost to the cloud of arrows that rained down on the ramparts. Kjard was awoken before sunrise by his royal guard “sire you are needed at the eastern wall” This immediately awoke him up and he found himself sprinting to the eastern wall in his morning gown with his guards following closely behind him. His face whitened as he saw what was coming over the horizon, eight huge siege towers were being dragged along on giant logs by hundreds of Gretengol. Kjard was about to order all forces to the eastern wall when he saw the western bell ring. This meant siege towers on the western wall as well. Both sides, a pincer movement. The battle of Ankendyme had begun.

Jhag’s footpads ached like he had been jumping on flint for hours. Keltas was in better mood than normal, he seemed to have brightened up considerably since the incident the previous evening. They even managed to joke and maintain a conversation for a few minutes, although in the backs of both of their minds the memories lingered of the watching thing. Unbeknownst to them still the thing watched from above even now. The thing was not a thing so much as a fellow person, he even had a name. The Estrengol was hiding up in the branches and observing them quietly as he had been doing so for a few days. He had been sent to scout out into the silent forest, he had come across this odd duo and decided to track them. They seemed to have caught on to him but could not find him. He chuckled as he thought of how they thought they were discreet when casting upwards glances to try and spot him. He knew they were heading due south because they had not deviated from that direction. At first he thought they were lost because they didn’t look like they belonged in this forest. Although both of them carried blades he had seen one of them holding their blade, the one referred to as Jhag . At the time he had struggled to suppress a laugh at the sight of him gripping the sword. He held it in an illogical way and Nulgus was sure that he would break his wrist if he tried to use it combat. They were both obviously inexperienced fighters and travellers. Nulgus was contemplating when to introduce himself, seeing as he meant them no harm and could easily dispatch them both if they attempted to attack him. He broke his train of thought and glanced back down at them. Only the one called Jhag was there. And Jhag was staring up at Nulgus with a fearful look on his face. Nulgus was about going to introduce himself, it was sooner than in an ideal situation. But he supposed it was necessary. Just as he opened his mouth to speak he felt the whisper of a blade slide under his chin. The one named Keltas was behind him holding the blade to his throat. Nulgus raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He felt his sword being removed from its scabbard. Keltas was disarming him. He had severely underestimated them and let his guard down. He felt like a fool for doing so. “Explain yourself” Keltas said from behind him, Jhag was smirking at him from below. He elbowed Keltas in the ribs sharply and disarmed him before Keltas had time to react. In a mere instant he was holding a second blade at Keltas’s neck, he always kept spare daggers strapped to the interior of his boots. The second dagger had pinned Jhag’s carry pack to a nearby tree trunk, an expert and precise throw in a split second. “Listen to me, try anything like that again and I will aim for the head next time” he gestured to Jhag who had gone a deathly pale. “you are the one who has been following us” Keltas pointed out, trying to keep his composure as he spoke. Despite the situation. “It is my duty to the king to investigate any potential threats” he said calmly. “which king do you serve?” Jhag inquired.

“I serve under king Donsck of the Estrengol stronghold in Cogendyme” there was silence for a few seconds “why do you head south?”. “None of your business” Keltas muttered through gritted teeth. “We bring a message to the king of men in Falendyme” Jhag said. Keltas gave Jhag a spiteful glance for telling their mission to a stranger, one holding them and knifepoint no less. Jhag winced. He had now pulled the knife from the tree bark and his carrypack thus un-pinning himself from the large tree. He had also drawn his sword from his carrypack and it gleamed in the half light of the silent forest. He held a blade in each hand and tried to look intimidating. “Let go of my friend and we don’t need to fight” Nulgus laughed and picked Keltas up. He hung Keltas from a solitary high up branch by impaling Keltas’s hood onto the branch. Now that he had free hands he took back his blade which Keltas had stabbed into the tree. Nulgus leapt down in a single jump and stood to face Jhag, he was a full foot taller. He flourished with his blade and indicated for Jhag to attack with a smug look on his face. He thought Jhag would surrender but he had underestimated yet again. Jhag leapt at him swinging both blades like a madman. Nulgus parried every blow with ease but still found himself being pushed backwards by the relentless flailing blades. All of a sudden he heard the whistling of air, a falling object. He looked up just in time to see a shape falling towards his head, something resembling a large acorn. It struck him and he fell into a dark and lonely unconsciousness.