Bertan`s quest - Michelle Tarynne (best beach reads of all time txt) 📗

There were predators hidden well among them, he knew, pushing for war that could never be won. Vlad of the Seekinglands was too old not to notice patterns and it made him actually feel like the old man he was slowly becoming to be. He was already so tired with attending the never-ending war preparations. Deep breaths he took did nothing to restore his energy and it was never a good sign, especially now, that the High Council meeting with the Red Axe King was far from being over.

Vlad was both angry and bored. A deadly combination that sparked very unwise behavior on his part, sometimes. He did everything in his might over his body and mind not to yawn and to appear utterly unaffected by his age and boredom.

"My Lord, I see I'm not going to be of any help here anymore. I'm humbly asking you for your permission to leave this High Council meeting," Vlad hoped that his voice didn't carry much of his disapproval that echoed his inner feelings of the disaster the whole High Council had become in the recent Cycles.

"Oh, come on Vlad… you can't seriously be such a spoilsport. Not in this era!" the Red Axe King bellowed with a deep laugh, "It's all just a bit of a laugh. You, at your ripe age, can't be serious about believing those old fairy Oracle stories," the King finished with a much somber and calculating tone that denied his laughter.

"The Ombre Valley is to be avoided at all costs. The Oracle was clear…" Vlad insisted furiously, angry at the disrespect all of the younger generations carried for the Oracle. He thought that even kings should be aware of the truth it passed throughout the millennia. Especially kings should be aware of its worthiness and guidance. Well, unless the current king was the Red Axe King.

"It has no history of being tainted with a curse," the Red Axe King interrupted drunkenly, "Yes, no people ever venture there, but on the other hand who could blame the villagers for being superstitious of the bad smell…" the King tried to reason coolly, but he finished with a loud snort. "Gods… the stink there is unbelievable, but still, it is no reason to avoid that place altogether."

Everyone at the table, but Vlad, laughed and cheerily hooted. Drunken members of the High Council spilled their Idle Juice all over the war plans.

"My King, I'm asking for permission to leave your inner Wall territories with all my people. I'm not of any help to you now with my unbroken faith and strong beliefs." Vlad became very careful with his words. "I don't want to be an obstacle to any plans you might decide upon from now on," he noted with a strain of hope that the King looked and behaved a bit drunk already so that whatever Vlad wanted might be just granted.

"Gods, Vlad, you and your seriousness... I can't plan any defense based on some ancient lunatic Oracle! That Valley is the only place large enough where we can safely store all the troops and machinery without being closely watched by the enemy spies. To see what is there is to attack the Valley already. We need that element of surprise Vlad! It's the only thing we can really count on… And I see it falling on deaf ears anyway, so yes, you have my permission to leave with your people at once," the Red Axe King slurred slowly and lazily, watching as Vlad stormed through the doors. "You will all come back here soon anyway…"

The smile on the scarred face that belonged to the Red Axe King's face became feral and calculating, his seemingly playful and drunken demeanor was suddenly and eerily gone the moment the doors locked behind the old warrior's silhouette grimly disappearing in the distance.

Vlad's thoughts were laden with worry so much he almost didn't hear the Great Hall Doors cling to each other with a thud as heavy as the accompanying Third Warlord's faked deep laugh. Large and sturdy in his posture Vlad walked quickly only to change his pace into a full run even before he reached the staircase. Time was of the essence and that precious time was the only thing beyond any of his control.

"Boy! Prepare our platform, we are going back now!" Vlad barked at the young servant as soon as he got close enough to their resting house, "Go and find everyone from our lands...and I mean every single one, tell them it's time to go home. The eastern tracks are to be taken."

"Sire?" the boy of the name Genes seemed genuinely frightened by the command. It was evident in his wide eyed surprise that he was rudely awaken from one of the naps he was prone to take whenever he could. Warlords like Vlad and his companions never slept when on a mission. To nap was to survive, to sleep was to die. Genes was no warrior.

"Now, boy!" Vlad yelled right into Genes hesitant face to make him pull his wits together. Not that it ever appeared to work.

"Sire!" Genes stuttered, "It will take at least two cycles to get everyone together at this time!" the youngster told his master before running as fast as if the winds could lift his scrawny body into the air towards the platforms of the eastern tracks.

Vlad was angered and saddened at the same time because the Red Axe King and The High Council had laughed his concerns off. He fully realized once again that it has already been foretold to occur exactly this way at this time. This old warrior tried to reason with himself, that maybe he should have stayed longer to hear more of the planned war schemes and maybe gain more safety for his tribe of the Seekinglanders.

Unfortunately, he knew, nothing could steer the Red Axe King from the course he had chosen to take. Vlad's tribe had to execute the Plan that had been crafted even before this King was born. The Seekinglanders lived and breathed the Oracle's words. Every news he was to bring back home this time was a bad news, but his tribe had to be warned as soon as possible.

Damn the Red Axe King and all his Axe tribes for just keeping the stolen land and mines that used to belong to the Sword Slave-Masters of old. It was nothing but a conceit to think that those lands had been a gift from the Fates all those Great Cycles ago. In truth they were nothing but a curse ever since. The foretold by the Oracle time had come to leave everything behind, especially those lands, as everything would be covered with blood soon...

Suddenly a new worry carried Vlad out of his old-age melancholy. A nagging thought had the power to break his focus. How could a Calling of a small party of half a dozen people together take two cycles or more?

Vlad's gut churned when he recalled that last dismissive leer the Red Axe King had shot at him. That was the moment when he turned to enter the Northern Case Cube House. He was afraid it might be too late already, so he opened the back door silently to disappear into the unlit entrance.

Genes was a fair and rather small boy for his age of eighteen Great Cycles of darkness. He ran as if the Sword slave hunters themselves were chasing after him. Clumsy, slow and out of breath. His journey through the ever-present night time became easier when he finally noticed the steel rail three-tracks that were melted firmly into the ground beneath his feet.

Genes followed the three-tracks railway right up to the point where their platform waited by the side tracks. He quickly arranged with the guarding sisters for it to be mounted as soon as possible if they were to follow Vlad's order to go back through the Great Gates by the Narrow Bridge via the eastern tracks.

After taking care of the first part of his task, Genes ran quickly to the Diner by the East to buy Mince-pies for the road. In their own lands, Seekinglanders never ate flesh, so the foreign rich taste intoxicated him more than Idle Juice ever would. He just had to get as many as he could for the way before leaving those weird lands within the Wall barrier.

After that Genes ran to the Station Cantine, hoping all of the Seekinglanders would be there. That hope was crushed by the reality the moment he opened the only beautifully intricate doors in the whole Axe territory. Trying to ignore the ever-present Idle Juice scent, he spotted only one familiar lone figure bent over a thick table filled with empty mugs and gaming marbles.

"Master Hunn, Master Hunn!" Genes couldn't hide both excitement and dread in his voice. It always happened when he was forced to talk with the Wicked One. His voice was still soft, like a drop of blood in the flowing water that is diluted before reaching its recipient. He lacked an adult voice capable of cutting though the noise. Music and loud chatter filled the Cantine more than the people.

Genes' words never breached Hunn's attention. There seemed to be no other way than to yank on the Wicked One's coat. Even during a good cycle, it wasn't such a great idea. Hands and fingers were known to be lost for lesser acts. Genes had no other option. He took his chance and pulled hard. He hoped it was hard enough for Hunn to feel the pressure on his arm. The problem was that the Wicked One had a hefty companion sitting and constantly stirring on his lap.

A massive and silky feathered Northerner Haxe bird was Hunn's most treasured possession. There was never a time they were separate. Well it wasn't quite a bird yet, more of a chick, yet its weight could already conquer Genes' still frail body.

The process of getting Hunn's attention took a lot of effort as he had almost finished a third mug of Idle Juice and Haze just started to cloud his senses anyway.

"Easy boy, easy! You could have startled me. You know that never ends too well. It's never a good start anyway," Hunn sighed and muttered unhappily, "I'm still out of control, and I'm already seventy Cycles of Darkness old," he whispered quietly, more to himself. Like he was unaware he actually said it out loud, "What brings you to me, boy?" Hunn tried to lighten his tone. He even smiled, absently petting his bird.

That smile was so unnatural in its sadness and so out of place that Genes frowned and cocked his head. He was too young to know the taste of it, but already knew the eye-clouding Haze of the Idle Juice that devoured all of the Seekinglanders men to the point of oblivion like a curse.

"Genes, master Hunn, my name is Genes." the boy sighed, annoyed that no one noticed him enough to know his name, couraged by the fact Hunn seemed hazy enough not to react badly to his insolence, "Sir, Vlad commanded the Return."

Genes tensed at the sudden and quite frightening change in Hunn's demeanor that happened in front of his eyes. The Wicked One straightened his posture, his eyes were sharp, suddenly void of the numbing Haze they bore just a few moments earlier.

"Has he now?" Hunn asked in a clipped voice.

"Yes master Hunn. We are to meet now and return home. All of us." Genes started to sound frantic. "Every single one of us."

"Calm down, boy. I know where to find The Two..." Hunn frowned absently, lost in his thoughts. He stood up from his chair, nesting the feathered creature close to his heart. "Ah, but the Duchess, what do we do about the Duchess?" he asked the