Chapter-2-1

⁠—⁠—⁠— I ⁠—⁠—⁠—

“Aaah!”

A great cry rose up—and then all sound ceased. Every giant in the amphitheater of the Lagon instantly grew still. It was as though all of them had been turned to stone, like the people of Kanan in the legend of the lost empire. The silence that gripped the mountain vale was filled with meaning, the premonition of a great change both subtle and complex.

All the Lagon, even Kah the Wise, held their breath, their voices robbed from them by what they saw. Their power to move, their ability to think—everything was paralyzed. Wide-eyed they huddled, a silent throng, a crowd of awestruck statues.

Around them the mountains towered, jagged crags looming high above the barren valley and its village of stone. Already, far beyond the dark slopes of the mountains, the pale white sphere of Aeris the moon goddess, ever shy, hurried to hide herself. The first rays of morning that heralded the arrival of Ruah’s golden chariot would soon reach the valley floor.

The portent-filled predawn light bathed the giant Lagon of Nospherus as they sat unmoving. Among the crowd one of the stone chairs of the chieftains sat empty; in the other, Kah the Wise was poised, leaning far forward, his eyes wide in awe, his six-fingered hands gripping the arms of his chair, his long robe reaching to the ground.

Every giant’s gaze was fixed on the center of the amphitheater, where the arena was cut like a bowl from the valley rock. There, Dodok the Brave stood ready to leap, his hand extended—yet his feet were planted firmly on the ground, motionless.

Just before him, half-risen from the ground, was Guin. The leopard-man extended his right hand directly toward his foe, gripping the object he had instinctively pulled from his belt like a ward to fend off demons. It was clear from the way every eye was drawn to the object in his hand that this was the source of the enchantment that held the village in thrall; yet Guin, who wielded it, understood what was happening the least. Even when his foe stopped short in his attack, and a silence like, the death of all creation fell upon them, he had no comprehension of what had happened. Guin too was frozen in place, a statue, as though caught in the very ensorcelment he had wrought.

Even had he dared look at what he held, he would have been at a loss to remember whence it had come, or what it was. He did not look; instead, like the legendary Irana brandishing the Sword of Victory, he held it up to the Lagon brave. It was as though the slender, silvery object sent invisible rays of power streaming in all directions to envelop the entire world, transporting it to an eternal dimension where time, life, and death were no more than dreams.

Guin feared that if he so much as twitched, he would break the bizarre spell that had overtaken the valley, and the interrupted combat would reach its bloody conclusion.

Yet, in that stifling silence and stillness, time had not stopped its motion but flowed on soundlessly. Though none there had the presence of mind to notice it, a great sunrise was beginning in the east. As he did every morn, the sun god Ruah rose above the land, spread his shining hands, and thrust them into the valley.

The first beam of light to strike the valley floor was greeted with a new cry from the crowd, and at once, the spell was ended. Like sunlight melting dew, the surprise and fear that hung heavy in the air unraveled into a tremendous yell of exhilaration.

“Look! Look!” the Lagon began to shout, their individual cries blending together until the valley shuddered with the roar. In the very midst of it all, Guin rose to stand, legs apart, brandishing the object in his right hand on high. He looked and knew for the first time that the oddly shaped silvery rod he held was the object he had seen sparkle in the valley of salt and, without thinking, picked up and thrust into his belt. But perhaps it had not been Guin who picked up the rod at all, but the rod that used Guin to enact its will.

In a flash the leopard-man was enveloped in the radiance of the morning sun, and the light reflecting off the rod was so bright it became impossible to look at it directly.

“Ohhh!” came a low moan from the crowd. It was Kah the Wise. The ancient sage clutched the wooden armrests of his chair so tightly that it seemed he would snap them in two, and he leaned forward so far he was in danger of toppling to the ground. “Aqrra!”

That started it. Until now, the crowd was lost in awe and confusion—now they had a direction.

“Aqrra! It’s Aqrra!”

“Aqrra!”

“He is Aqrra’s messenger!”

“It is as the legend says!”

“The sign of Aqrra!”

“Aqrra!”

Soon, the cries of the Lagon swelled into a single great chorus, chanting, “Aqrra! Aqrra!”

A moment later, the wildlings were leaping from their seats. As one the giants of Nospherus ran toward the leopard-headed, bare-chested warrior in the middle of the arena, racing to be the first to prostrate themselves before him.

It seemed as if lightning had stricken Dodok the Brave, so fast did he fall at Guin’s feet, practically kissing the chalk-covered toes of the man he had tried to strike down in mortal combat only moments before.

The object in Guin’s hand sparkled in the gradually waxing morning light, and then, as though by some magic, a high, clear sound like breaking crystal rang through the air.

“Aqrra!” Every Lagon, warriors, women, elders, even children dragged by their mothers’ hands, reached out toward Guin, bowing to the ground before him as though smitten with awe.

Once again silence filled the arena, but its character was different from the frozen hush of a moment before. This was a warm stillness that held not fear, but endless hope. On the stone steps of the amphitheater, two powerful Lagon warriors joined arms beneath Kah the Wise and lifted him slowly from the stone chair. Guin gasped. The six-fingered elder’s legs were withered beneath his long robes. He could not stand on his own.

In reverent silence, the two warriors carried Kah the Wise gently down the stairs. The crowd parted wordlessly before him. When he reached the bottom they carried him up to the leopard-headed warrior. Kah motioned to the warriors and they set him down upon the earth next to where Dodok the Brave still crouched.

A brilliant ray of light shot down into the valley, enveloping Guin in a radiant aura. The rod in his hand chimed like a bell made of the rarest silver. Kah looked up at him, his eyes filled with a deep surprise and joy.

“Messenger of Aqrra,” the sage said in a faint voice.

“Messenger of Aqrra!” echoed the Lagon.

“The… tales were true. I live to see their truth. Of a long line of wise and unerring Kah, this Kah the Wise that is me, has met a messenger of Aqrra. I meet the one who will lead the Lagon to the promised land.”

Kah closed his eyes. Glistening tears ran in two lines down his ancient cheeks. “Aqrra, I give thanks,” he rasped. Next to him, Dodok the Brave kept his head pressed to the ground.

Guin stood in the midst of all the Lagon’s adoration and fearful reverence, bathed in light, his leopard head seeming for all the world like destiny given physical form.

Kah the Wise stretched out a hand, palm-first, toward the sign Guin carried. “You are Aqrra’s messenger.” The old wildling’s voice, though low, carried clearly to every corner of the stone village. “Lagon will follow you. Lagon will go where you lead, fight your enemies, and befriend your friends. Even if a battle bears no hope or benefit, if you say ‘fight,’ lagon will fight until the last warrior has fallen dead upon the ground. Even if you lead us to a barren waste, a valley of death and miasma, we will not doubt that it is Aqrra’s promised land. You were the one chosen as Aqrra’s messenger, to carry Aqrra’s sign, to speak with Aqrra’s words. Warrior with the Head of a Beast, lagon will follow you.”

“Lagon will follow!”

The crying erupted from the mouths of every Lagon there and echoed through the valley.

“Lagon will follow!”

“Lagon!”

Guin reached out and took the six-fingered hand of Kah the Wise into his own. Though it seemed he had outlasted his need for the silver rod—the sign of Aqrra—he kept it held high in his other hand, just in case. The leopard-man looked once at the crowd bowed before him. Then he spoke:

“Lagon of Nospherus! I am come to ask for your aid. I am come to ask you to join me in battle.” Guin’s clear voice rang through the amphitheater. “Beyond your valley, across the valley of salt, across several dunes and the wasteland plains, a great army has invaded this land of Nospherus from beyond the flow of the Kes. Even now, a great Mongauli host faces the unified tribes of the Sem. The Sem resist the Mongauli, but the Sem are far smaller and not as well armed—and yet, although they are at a disadvantage, they yield not one grain of sand without a struggle. The fighting has been bitter, but the Sem believe it is their divine duty as children of Nospherus to drive back the invaders. I am come to ask the Lagon to help the Sem army. You, too, are children of Nospherus, and you must defend your home from the warriors of Mongaul who come to usurp it for their own ends. Preserve it always as a free land for those who are born here to live!

“Time is short. The Mongauli army stands poised to deliver a final crushing blow to the Sem forces—and if the Mongauli should win, the Sem tribes will be annihilated down to the last woman and child, great corpse-fires will burn upon the sands, and soon the white valley you hold sacred will be overrun. For, once the Mongauli have destroyed the Sem, it is a certainty that they will next come to destroy the Lagon.

“I do not know what land Aqrra has promised to the Lagon, nor can I tell you why Aqrra has decided that the Lagon should join in this struggle. But what I can say beyond any doubt is that no matter where your promised land may lie, no matter what land it may be, in order to claim it you must fight. Lend your strength to defend Nospherus, and drive back the evil that threatens to consume it. I have come across valley and mountain to bring you battle, flames, death—and victory.

“Rise, Lagon. Rise, people of Nospherus! Hear my pleas and take up spear and axe! Even as we speak, men with no true claim to this land threaten to trample it beneath their horses’ hooves!”

Even before the echoes of Guin’s speech had died, the Lagon took up the cheer.

“Lagon will stand with Aqrra!”

“Lagon will follow Aqrra!”

“Lagon will fight!”

“Aqrra, Aqrra!”

Some among the giants raised swords of cut crystal into the air, or whirled stone axes above their heads, while others pounded their chests with their fists and roared. Women and children both clutched at their hair, howling praise for the messenger of Aqrra and the warriors of Lagon.

“Prepare! We prepare!”

“Make ready! Sharpen your axes! Fill the food-satchels!”

“War! We go to war!”

Their eager cries soon transformed into barked orders and excited conversation as with a single-minded purposefulness the wildlings went to prepare for battle.

“Be swift,” Guin added. Then, seeing that his job was done, he lowered the curious artifact in his hand and thrust it once again through his belt. His eyes traveled across the rapidly dispersing crowd, then up toward the sky.

His request had ultimately met with success far beyond his hopes, but Guin was not the least bit happy. Inside that expressionless leopard head, his two bestial yellow eyes shone harshly, bright with an unbearable anguish. His big fists hung tensely by his side, twitching and clenching as though in seizure as he glared up at the great arc of the blue sky, rimmed by the rough-cut ridgeline of the mountains, and at the sun which now rose high into the morning.

A low growl spilled from his mouth.

The fourth morning comes. How can I move the Lagon across wolf-infested mountains and the endless desert to reach the Sem by nightfall? I cannot. They have no horses, and even with mounts, it would take two days to cross that distance. Nor can I rely again on such a miracle as the cyclone which carried me.

Guin wanted not four days, but fourteen—yet he knew the sandclock that hung over his head was not in the hands of the Sem, but the Mongauli army. Even four days was too long if the attack had already come.

All that was left to him was to reach the Sem as fast as he could. When I arrive with the Lagon, let it not be to a barren field of corpses, a banquet for the mouths-of-the-desert. Let my Lagon army not fight a battle of mourning for the fallen Sem.

Please, let me be in time. Time… Guin growled. If I could, I would command time itself to stop.

“Brave warrior Guin,” came a deep, wild voice, jarring the leopard-man from his reverie. The massive form of Dodok the Brave loomed before him. “Brave Guin, I offer my apology.”

From beneath Dodok’s jutting brow, sharp-gleaming eyes peered downward, fixing on the leopard-headed warrior.

“Apology?”

“When I accepted your challenge, I did not know you were the true messenger. I should not have fought the messenger of Aqrra. It is not shameful to lose to the messenger, for he borrows Aqrra’s strength, and Aqrra’s strength is undying.”

Guin stood silently, watching the towering warrior intentIy.

“I did not believe you spoke the truth. I give you my apology. Do you accept?”

“I do,” Guin said, taking the Lagon’s massive hand in his. Dodok seemed moved by the gesture, and bowed his huge head.

After a moment the Lagon spoke again. “Brave Guin, the enemies lagon are to fight—they are strong?”

“One against one, they would not be a challenge for even a child of the Lagon,” Guin said with a laugh. “But they ride horses. And use weapons not of stone but of steel, and powerful bows. They wear not cured hides, but thick metal armor. And they are many—as many as five times the number of your warriors. What’s more, they fight in groups. They will not fight honorably, one against one, as the Lagon do. Yet, most of them are shorter even than I, and they are not strong.”

“Then they are weak. Weak, and many. Like ants facing the wolf.” Dodok the Brave’s hideous face twisted into a smile. His eyes shone bright as candles. “I will lead lagon to victory in Aqrra’s battle,” he declared, slamming his chest with a fist.

“I look forward to seeing your feats on the field of battle, Dodok the Brave,” Guin said truthfully.

Dodok turned and began to walk away—then stopped abruptly and turned back to stare into Guin’s eyes. “Brave warrior Guin. I… feel regret for fighting Aqrra’s messenger, but…”

Guin raised an eyebrow.

“Guin. Brave Guin. I fight many battles, more than I count hairs on my body, but never lose to one smaller than Dodok. You are smaller than Dodok. But you are strong. Brave Guin, I…”

“I understand,” Guin said. “I, too, regret that our combat had to end before a clear victory was decided. Once we have prevailed in this battle Aqrra demands of us, should you and I both stand unharmed upon this land, we will pick a day of good  omen, and we will fight until a winner is decided. Yet I have many things to do, so we will not fight until one is dead. We will fight until one lies unconscious upon the ground. The one standing shall be the victor.”

“Good,” Dodok the Brave said, his face suddenly brightening. Grinning, he clapped Guin on the chest with his massive hand before running off to assist with the tribe’s preparations for war.

All around the amphitheater, skins, stone axes, and spears were piled into great heaps, and a great number of Lagon were busy among them. Guin lifted his eyes and spotted a Lagon child standing a short distance away from the crowd. It was Rhana.

Guin beckoned her closer. At first the girl seemed hesitant, but when Guin softened his gaze and called to her, she meekly approached.

“Hello, Rhana,” Guin said, gently extending his hand and patting her on the head. “Thank you. Because of your kindness, I ate and drank, and was able to fight Dodok the Brave. May you know happiness always. You saved my life.”

“Is Guin stronger than Dodok?” Rhana asked, her hesitant shyness draining away the closer she came to Guin. Gradually she seemed more at ease until she stood before the warrior and allowed him to embrace her in his arms.

“That I do not know,” Guin told her. “We have just promised each other to find out for certain someday. But not soon. Know this, though. Dodok is very, very strong!”

Rhana’s round eyes looked up at Guin’s leopard head. Gently, she raised a hand and stroked his fur. “Is this a skin you wear?” she asked with a child’s curiosity.

“It is not. For reasons I do not understand, I cannot take it off.”

“Will everyone go to fight with you? Even Dodok?”

“Yes, they will.”

“Rhana will go too.”

“Rhana can go when she is bigger.”

Guin lifted the Lagon child in his arms. He held her close, feeling her warmth and innocence drain away some of the urgent haste he felt consuming him from inside. Even though she was a child, her size made her heavier than a full-grown woman of the Middle Country.

“Will you come back to the valley of the Lagon?” she asked.

Guin answered honestly. “I do not know. I do not know what will happen. What I do know is that things will go as they are meant to go.”

Rhana furrowed her brow a moment, then she seemed to give up trying to understand. She smiled. “Was the salted meat to your liking?”

“Ah, it was delicious.”

“You want more?”

“No, later,” Guin said, patting Rhana on the head. Her hair was soft and smelled of the sun and chalk powder.

Rhana looked as though she were about to ask another question, when a voice interrupted her.

“Guin, messenger of Aqrra. Kah the Wise wishes words. Please come to his house.” It was one of the two warriors he had seen carrying the elder before. Guin surmised that this man was probably bound to the elder, serving as both his feet and his mouth to deliver such messages.

“Very well,” Guin replied, and followed after him, with Rhana still curled in the crook of one arm.

The house of Kah the Wise was near the top of the stone-built village. Though small, it was immediately recognizable, for it had been crafted with rocks of a reddish hue, perhaps to set it apart from the other dwellings nearby. Guin set Rhana down before the rough-cut door to the elder’s house, and patted her one last time on the head.

The Lagon girl dashed away, frequently glancing back at Guin as she made her way down the village’s sloping main pathway. He watched her leave, then turned and went into the home of Kah the Wise.