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In the rising shimmer of a hot afternoon the two figures waited, their forms distorted in the rippling heat of the day. About them the barren plains spread to the horizon in every direction and upon this featureless expanse one stood, the other bent upon his knee as he studied the ground at his feet. Both were quiet, the breeze that blew in gusts from the west spreading small drifts of dirt and sand around their heavy boots. There was not a sound to be heard, only the bluster of the wind disturbing the solitude of their thoughts. It was a silence that could only last a short time.
"Why are we here Old One?", asked the younger, his voice impatient.
The older of the two stood and looked at his companion. For three days they had travelled into the south, far into the borderlands that separated their people from the Nations of Men. They were in no danger but it had been an arduous journey, one the younger of the two would have preferred not to make. The older straightened and brushed dirt from his hands.
"You may be the favoured son of our Chief, but I will tell you Tansen'Delving that I am nobody's "Old One". Whilst I live you will address me as Shan'dari, Shaman of Kraal Delving and your superior in all things." He finished wiping his hands and bent to retrieve his travelling pack. Then he turned to the other and smiled.
"Of course, when I am dead you can call me anything you like."
The younger laughed and shook his head in dismay. He knew he was not going to get a straight answer out of the old conjuror, and the Fates knew he had tried enough in the preceding days. Of all his father's command staff he enjoyed the company of the Shaman the most. There were mysteries in the old goat's head that could not be fathomed, and knowledge that only he was privy to. What they were doing in such a desolate place was something only his father and the Shan'dari knew. It was knowledge he was going to find out. He was not going to give up.
"Enough of your diversions magic-weaver. We have travelled further south than is wise and yet you still will not tell me why we are here. Am I being punished for some unforeseen transgression?"
The Shaman looked to the south and placed his large hands over his brow, shading his eyes from the light of the suns above.
"You think you are being punished? How do you think I feel having to endure your whining for the last three days. Can you not trust that Fate will bring such knowledge to you in its own good time?"
Tansen'Delving pulled at the straps of his pack and remained quiet. There would be other opportunities, but he could tell the Shaman's patience was wearing thin.
"Where to now then?"
"South of course. I can tell you that we are making for the Spires. It is there that the reasons for your journey will be revealed."
Together they set off, making a southerly heading for the curious landmark know to the Delving Jotun as the Spires. Tansen had heard of them but had never been far enough south to see them for himself. If nothing else the journey will have been worth the trouble just for a chance to see the monoliths.
Ahead the ground spread as a series of undulating hills, shallow and devoid of any plant life, as sterile and as unappealing as any other part of the borderlands. Tansen had discovered quickly however, that even in such a place life had found a foothold, and as he walked beside the Shaman he searched the ground ahead for tracks or other sign. He was getting hungry and something fresh would be preferable to the Nahla cake they had been forced to live on whilst on this endless journey.
The afternoon wore on, and as the twin suns drifted into the west, the two Jotun watched the ground ahead. It was the younger that saw the summits of the Spires first. They appeared black against the deep blue of the late afternoon but in the distance between them he could see little more. The Shaman nodded his approval and looked to the lowering suns.
"Good. We should reach the base of the Spires by midnight. It is there we must wait and then your questions will be answered."
Shan'dari turned again to the south and continued. He said nothing more. For his part he did not like what he was about to do. The Chieftain's son was a good friend, and although the prophecies had been very specific as to who must go, he could not help but feel that he was sending the young Tansen into something he was ill-prepared for. Prophecy could not be argued with however. It just was.
Beneath a darkening sky the two travellers made their way south. Ahead of them the Spires rose slowly, the forms of three distinct rock formations growing in the gloom. The excitement on Tansen's face belied the anxiety that was starting to find its way into his thoughts. There was good sense in the old Jotun saying that secrets travelled with danger as their silent partner. Whatever the reasons for their journey he knew they would be found at the base of these giant towers of stone.
The two Jotun rested for a short time at dusk, eating a small meal and making observances to the setting suns. It always meant good fortune if prayers and sacrifice could be made prior to an important event. Tansen gave up a measure of his blood to ensure his own good fortune. The Shaman burned grain and supplicated himself to the setting suns before they both again turned to their journey. Together they found new energy in the cool of the night, and under a dome of blazing stars moved silently towards the rocks ahead.
Shan'dari watched his young charge moving in the gloom ahead of him, his powerful form running strong across the wasteland, sure and confident as he forged his way southwards. It occurred to the old Shaman, and not for the first time, that the boy had the makings of a great chieftain. One who could bring the disparate Kraals of the Jotuni together and fulfil the prophecies that had been given to them so many years before. It was up to the vagaries of Fate now however. He had done all he could to ensure the young warrior's safety. Now it would be up to Tansen himself to survive the night.
Together they ran the remaining distance to the base of the Spires.
In the hour before midnight the two Jotun reached their goal and took refuge at the base of the largest of the great rock formations. Reaching more than three hundred metres into the air, it stood out on the plain as a massive stone finger pointing into the heavens, weathered and beaten by exposure but unbowed by the march of time. Tansen fell to the ground and reached for his water-bag, his chest heaving with the exertion of the run. It felt good to be so fatigued but he was losing what patience remained to him.
"Now Shaman, we have reached the Spires and it is time for you to tell me why we are here."
Shan'dari stood bent before the younger Jotun, his hands placed firmly on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. He motioned to his charge to wait and tried to straighten himself. He was getting too old for such things but his duty was clear. When he had recovered sufficiently he pulled Tansen to his feet and without warning struck him with a closed fist across the head, sending him reeling sideways against the face of the rock at his back.
Tansen did not react nor return the favour. To lay a hand on the son of a chieftain meant certain death, unless the act had been sanctioned by his father. He waited instead for the Shaman to explain himself.
Shan'dari saw the surprise in the boy's face but nodded his approval at his lack of action. He could see in his charge's eyes the need to understand what was happening, not blindly retaliate as a Jotun of lesser standing might. He was ready.
"Tansen'Delving, you are the son of a Chief, heir to the authority and responsibility of your Kraal and the wealth of its chattels. On this night you are to undergo your deskai, your Right of Passage. Listen to your better as you are told of the task you must perform."
Tansen took a step forward and made move to speak, his mind full of questions, but the Shaman hit him once again with such force that he fell to the ground.
"Do not speak son of Agror'Delving. It is not your time to question what is about to happen, only to listen, and do that which is asked of you." The Shaman dragged Tansen back to his feet and pointed into the south.
"Before the foothills of the Great Rift can be found two broken arches of stone, mighty in their aspect and known to the peoples of this world as the Alerion Gates. They guard the entrance to a wide valley, which we call the Shattereen, which in its turn opens into a series of lesser canyons in the mountains behind. Somewhere within the confines of these defiles can be found the Temple of the Moons. It is your task to find the temple and drink from its well. You have the remainder of this night to do so. This is your test, your deskai. Succeed, and I will be here waiting for your return. Fail, and the exile of these barren plains will be yours until you draw your last breath."
Shan'dari turned his back and stared at the rocky ground at his feet. There could be no more words between them until Tansen returned. The young Jotun stood for a moment and then went to say something but held his tongue. He knew that his initiation as a warrior of the Jotun of the West had begun and there could be no appeal, no turning from the deskai he had been given. Quietly he grabbed his warhammer and waistbag and turned towards the south. He had no idea where the Temple of the Moons resided, nor what dangers might lie between himself and the completion of his task, but he was of the Jotuni and for a warrior nothing was impossible.
The old Shaman watched as his charge ran into the night, taking nothing with him but his weapon, a few Nahla cakes in a bag, and the burden of his honour. The boy was still two winters from the time when he should normally take the deskai and prove himself a warrior. The son of Agror'Delving was no ordinary child however. If the prophecy of his ancestors was to be fulfilled then Tansen must take the challenge now and do what no other Jotun had done before; find the Temple of the Moons and drink of its dark waters. The Shaman looked to the diminishing figure and knew also that in the dark recesses of the Great Rift a far greater destiny loomed before the young Jotun, but that was something he would need to discover for himself.
In the cool of the evening Shan'dari found a comfortable nook within the base of the Spire and settled to wait for the return of his charge. The boy had no idea what he was about to confront, or what he might find beyond the gloom of the Alerion Gates, he had only to survive it.
Turn to section 1.
Contents | Introduction | Sections 1 - 120 | Aftermath | Appendices
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