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(Page 2 of 5) To the End of the Island by Chris Kaye
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The fury drained itself from his weary spirit. He had fought his way quite nearly to the end of the long island. Deep down, he feared that, in the next battle, his spirit would fail him.
With a deep breath, he stepped forward through the narrow trail to the clearing, and its thatched mud settlement.
********
Helegar settled into the large, down seat – to the Chiakan, the seat of honor. "Thank you," he said, taking a cup of hot, spicy tea from the lord-priest, Hiahan. He took a sip and sunk into the chair, engulfed in a the welcome calm.
"You look tired," Hiahan said, settling into his narrow wooden seat.
Helegar nodded. He looked up at the weathered wood carvings atop the rough walls. There was the Chiakan farming, in happier times. There was the Chiakan at sea, along the island's harsh coast. There was Nosei, the great spirit of the sea, wrestling with Olzrug, the evil spirit of the mountain volcano. Helegar turned his gaze back to the kindly Hiahan. "My father spoke of you often."
Hiahan nodded sadly. "Your father was good to the Chiakan." He led Helegar's eyes to another wooden carving. The mainlanders coming ashore, greeted by the Chiakan, so many years ago.
Helegar leaned forward. "He was a wise ruler, which is why I fight." Hiahan grimaced. For as good as relations had been between the Chiakan and the mainlanders, "ruler" was a strong and unwelcome word.
Hiahan changed the subject. "There is rumor that the witch in the forest has been captured."
Helegar felt his vigor drain again, and he sunk in his seat. "That is why I have followed this course, because of her counsel," he said. "To strive across the island, to its distant shore." He paused for a long moment. "It has all gone wrong," he muttered to himself.
Hiahan heard this, and brightened. "You are so close, to the distant shore." Helegar did not respond. Hiahan took another sip from his tea. "They have taken her to Guraz, the great volcano." Helegar winced. He had fought his way through Guraz, ejecting the Skriglords. But Gogahath had fled like a coward, avoiding his wrath. And Helegar had followed the witch's wisdom, "striving" onwards towards the distant shore. Now Gogahath and his minions had retaken the volcano fortress.
Hiahan noticed this distress. "The Chiakan know your sadness." He gestured towards another wooden carving. This one showed the Chiakan, forging weapons from the flowing lava of Guraz. "We once dwelled upon that mountain. Do not forget, Chiakan stands in the ancient tongue for ‘flaming sword.'"
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Gogahath raised his stony arm, its lifeless tendrils growing vigorously. His Skriglords clutched at the edge of a vast cage, their excited faces shooting skin into the swirling sulfur air. The mighty warlord lowered his arm. His guards pulled open the cage.
Towering Drogodauns poured forth. They leaped into the dark air, their long narrow jaws opening as they shrieked loudly. They landed from their leaps, crashing boulders and barreling forward.
"To the Chiakan!" Gogahath thundered.
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