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Chapters
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13-18 Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 25 Wendy trotted through the packed snow. Every few minutes she would lift her continued to close. It would be night soon. This far north, he mused, the land was very close to what (he was becoming forgetful) Danthor! (that was his name) had called The Void. The podrikev had explained it to him once before, explaining his theory that this Void was the coldest place, being filled with nothing all. This part of the world was exposed to the cold face of that void.
He slept.
Krogenar's Trip: Chaper 26 -------------------------- She kept herself focused on the ground before her, not wanting to look. But something insider her forced her to look.The wagon was an icy shrine now, crusted over by ice and snow. Astonished at how quickly the cold have overtaken it, Wendy took a moment to rest. She wouldn't allow herself to waste time over the fate of her parents. But, her new instincts told her: "There could be something of use within the wagon. Check it, then move on quickly." This new voice was cold, hard. The beloved bodies inside the ice-blasted wagon were nothing - not her parents. This voice cared only for her survival, and nothing else. Inside the wagon, she looked for anything of use. A white shape on the floor, huddled, was covered with a blanket. Her mothers hair was snow white now, not the vibrant black she remembered. The Cold Voice: "The blanket! Take it. There's nothing else here." Another voice, younger, smaller, more distant squeaked back a weak refusal. Wendy reconciled the two, took the blanket, gently prying it from stone-ice fingers. She shook it once, packed it, then strode out, closing the wagons canvas flaps behind her."Why did I do that?" she wondered. "Closing the wagon?" Shaking her head, she placed her hand against the wood planks of the wagon. Guilt hit her, but this new voice within her, awakened by the striders instruction, and her own predicament, was trying to keep her alive. Any advantage would be seized.Her grip on the wood plank tightened.
She looked at the wood now, her head tilting to one side. ...................................... Krogenar had never seen anyone so old! He poked at the Old Father's wrinkled face. The druid smiled back at the young half-orc, from his moss-covered bed. Someone cleared their throat.The half-orc boy turned, his Father smirked at him. The Older Father laughed as only old people can, a childlike gurgling, while he clapped his hands, smiling at Krogenar. His snow white hair dangled over his face in uncut locks. Small, and childlike, he lay on his bed. Krogenar's Father strode about the older druid's home, setting small bowls of berries and fruits nearby the windows. He turned to watch his Son and the elder druid. His Son. So curious. But without tact.Such was youth, he considered. The druids home was a convergence of trees, their trunks twisting about, forming a central opening. Flowered branches poked into the central space, scenting and decorating it. Each gnarled root becoming a step, or a handhold to the upper branches.Krogenar's Father settled on the floor next to the old mans bed, took his hand in his own. His skin was soft and thin, like paper. The old man beamed at the younger Druid. Life began to leave him, but pooled into his bright eyes. As if withdrawing to that gateway into the soul. Soon, others began to arrive. A snuffling bear snout poked into the home, and the old man started, lifted a small hand to touch it, grinning. Birds began winging close by, landing by his bedside, each snatching some fruit from the bowls left for them. Other animals arrived. One by one, each took a turn to touch the dying druid in their own fashion. All friends, large and small, furred, winged or scaled took a moment to say their farewell. Predator and prey forgot their eternal struggle for the day. Snuggling into his bed, the old druid smiled contentedly, closed his eyes. For the last time. A hush fell over the great old tree, and they mourned. Later, they carried the druids body into the forest, wrapped in his old blanket, the burden was very light. Finding a proper glade, Krogenar dug a deep hole, four hand widths in diameter, angled down at a slight angle. His Father lowered the carefully wrapped white bundle into the earth. Krogenar planted a seedling on the spot, one that would grow tall and strong. The druids spirit would pass into the tree, and would stretch out into the branches and roots, connecting with the roots of other trees, and the spirits within them. He would converse with the earth, and all other druids. . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........ .........
Krogenar awoke. His back was still against the cold wall of the crevasse. Above him, a small shard of night sky could be seen. His hand rested against the cold, stony floor.
Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 27 In the crypts of his own mind, Krogenar saw his past. ......... ........ ....... ....... ..... .... ... .. . Picking his way through the tall grass, the half-orc teenager peered at the home his Father and he shared- a huge, moss-draped tree, outside the forest. It was wrong. Like all animals, some ancient instinct from deep within him, warned of danger. There was less sound than was usual. And new smells. Visually, nothing was out of - some flowers, trampled near the doorway. All of these signals stopped Krogenar, would not allow him to take another step closer to danger. A strange creature emerged from the doorway. Krogenar crouched lower. Short, with long, cruelly muscular arms. Broad across the shoulders, and thick at the waist. A twisted face snarled from under a tangle of black hair, two tusk like teeth protruded from the lower jaw. Krogenar had never seen a creature like it before. Others, like the first, filed out from the home. Some were shorter, or taller, but all were heavily muscled. One wore a large sword, another an axe. They all had weapons. His stomach felt as though it were lengthening within him. "My Father" he thought. Animal instinct kept him rooted to the spot, low in the grass. Fear for his Father ground at his soul, pushed against the instinct. Sweating, he nearly stood up, to rush at the home. The first orc rubbed at his belly absent-mindedly, while a companion stomped through the garden, pulling at the small seedlings. Stopping the others playful destruction with a smack on the arm, the orc sniffed at the air, pausing. The animal-fear seized Krogenar again. Forced him to remain silently still. Careful eyes were scanning for him. He began backing away on his hands and knees. Rushing sounds now, a group running through the grass. He bolted, running for the safety of the forest trees. Behind him, the orcs fanned out, without having to be told to do so. Krogenar's arms pumped at his sides, his heart racing, legs a-blur. His mind settled into the task. The forest was ahead of him, lifting up and down in his vision with each stride. In his entire young life, no creature, great or small, had ever outrun him. The image of the forest rolled to the side, as a blow to his neck sent the adolescent half-orc to the ground. Massively calloused feet skidded into his vision - taloned, and decorated with rings. Grabbing at the ankle, hit bit down. Blood flowed around his teeth - until a kick to his stomach stopped him. A powerful blow to his back slammed him into ground. "Kral tuk!" the orc spat out at him. He didnt know what the words meant, but the blows stated clearly: "stay down." Someone lifted him bodily from the ground by his neck, tossing him into the arms of one orc. Snarling, laughing, the piggish face smelled of rotten meat. It regarded Krogenars bruised face for a moment, then pushed him, stumbling, at another orc. This continued, until all of them had looked at him, laughing. Eventually they began pointing to one orc, who appeared annoyed and angry. Laughing at the orc, they pushed Krogenar to him. Collapsing, Krogenar watched them. They gestured to their groins, pointed at the orc they had thrown him towards. "Kish Tlak Henar!" one orc growled, pointing to the orcs legs. He pointed to Krogenar's legs, cackled. The orc who was teased frowned, shook his head, kicked the half-orc in the ribs. Some great joke was being told. And they treated Krogenar as the punch line. Who was the lucky father? Later, after they had beaten him cruelly, they left him in the field. He awoke some time later, to bind his wounds, and return home. Father lay facedown in a pile, in a corner, brained by some weapon. Healing ointments and herbs lay carefully laid out nearby a blood-spattered bed. They had come for healing, and his Father had obliged them. Not knowing the rituals for a druid funeral, Krogenar sat with his Father alone, and buried him not long after.
Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 28 Walking away from where he had planted a seedling over his Fathers grave, Krogenar let his hands, fingertips wide, touch the trunks of trees as he passed. The spirits of the countless druids who had passed before were hidden behind the gnarled bark. He imagined them talking, sharing stories. . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........ ......... On his back, Krogenar looked sideways at his fingers. The cold had detached him from his body. He could see them, clearly, tips against the stone. But he could not feel them. Willing them to move, he thought it amusing that he could only confirm their movement by watching them.
He felt airy, as though he were floating.
His fingers dragged up the surface of the wall, about three feet. He smiled strangely at them. How did they do that? Another three feet. Awaking from his stupor, Krogenar blinked, stared up out of the fissure in the ice, felt wooden planks beneath him, rope, could sense the straining of another. Another three feet. .................................... Wendy hauled on the rope again, pulling the wooden stretcher up, with the strider tied securely to it. The stretcher finally appeared over the edge of the crevasse. .................................... Using the planks of wood from her familys wagon, she had rigged a crude, but workable sled. Pulling it behind her, her progress over the ice was better than she had expected. Krogenar lay on the sled, asleep. ................................... Small booted feet kicked where they protruded from the snow bank. A steady stream of crushed snow and ice trickled from between them. Wiggling back out, Wendy sat, rubbed her gloved hand across her face. The wind rushed across the blank white Waste, its surface seemed glasslike, rounded and smooth. Krogenar lay on the sled, asleep still. She hoped she had made the right decision retrieving him. Working her way back into the shelter, she pulled on the harness, dragging the sled into the shelter with her. Pushing a block of ice into position, the whining of the wind ceased, finally. Sighing, she began building a fire. "Did you decide you wanted to die with me?" She turned to Krogenar. "I need you for a little while longer." He absorbed this thought, was quiet for a moment. "Why are you making a fire? Have you gotten wet?" She shook her head. "Then no fire. A fire will save you from the cold. Here, we are insulated enough from the cold." She nodded, put the fire implements away. Krogenar started to feel some life return to his limbs, as the shelter began to warm from their own body heat, slowly. The shelter was well built. "Wendy, our chances of escape are very slight." She shrugged. "That's not anything we can help, is it?" He nodded. "True enough." "Its my risk to take, Krogenar." She whipped her head towards him, away, then back again. "How.. how did you get a name like that?" The strider smiled weakly. "I was named by the Kagluni. They are a people to the south of here. Very superstitious. They named me 'Krow-Haynar'." The feathers on her face shifted. "What's that mean?" He turned to sleep, covered the dirty ball of continual light he had had since his youth. "It means, 'Many Legs'" he said. She nodded. "They were convinced that I had more than one set of legs - I moved quickly over their territory." He spoke out into the shelter, his back still turned away from her. "In the morning, I may have a way to get us out of here." Krogenar nodded. "But we need more." then, they slept.
Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 29 A mournful howl echoed over The Waste. To Wendy, it seemed to come from every direction, fading into the distances. But she knew where it came from. Krogenar let his voice trail off, eased back onto the padded sled. "With any luck," he thought "they will hear me." The snow had become deep. Eight feet. It meant that they were closer to the edge of The Waste - but the strider felt himself edging closer to another edge. Wendy watched Krogenar close his eyes. He slept more often now. She had been surprised at the strength of the howling he made. It seemed a larger sound than his body could hold. He seemed drained now. She pulled the sled into the shelter. It was just a hollowed out snow den, but it kept the wind out - if nothing else. Pushing an ice block into place, to close the shelter, she poked a stick into the vent hole, clearing it of ice. She rubbed at the grimy ball of continual light they carried for light. Krogenar continued to sleep, but began to speak in his sleep. "Mmystra..." "... Rok... no Way..." "...Pax..." his voice cracked with emotion. ............................ Wendy prodded Krogenar to wakefulness. "I don't know if I can do this!" He regarded her dully, unperturbed. "You can." The feathers on her neck bristled. "YOU DO IT!" The strider tried to calm her. "I cannot, not in my condition... they would never accept me." He moved his head, until his eyes lined up with hers. "You will succeed." Whenever she became uncertain of herself, the half-orc knew how to calm her: he quizzed her - proving her knowledge to herself. He was surprised at his new role, a teacher, of all things. "Ears down, snarling." he said. "Fearful, but angry." she
replied. He nodded. "What is the most dangerous pose?" She knew the answer: "Snarling, but with ears up." "Why is that dangerous, the ears?" he pressed her for more information. "Ears up mean no fear. No fear from an animal, means no respect." she answered. He nodded to her. Wendy sat back, a bit calmer. She surprised Krogenar with a question of her own. "You were talking in your sleep... who is, Mystra?" He beamed. "She is my Teacher!" And so, while they waited, Krogenar explained many things. Mystra, The Weave, his history within the Church of Mysteries. "You were a General?" she laughed. "Aye! I was!" he laughed back at her. "Were you a good general?" she giggled. He smirked, shook his head. "Hardly." They quieted, and she asked, "What was it like, being selected by Mystra, to be Lord General?" She imagined all the pomp and fanfare of a great coronation. "She tore my eyes from my head, and threw them into the shrubs." Wendy gaped. "Wh-?" She shook her head. He nodded, shrugged. "Its true. Leadership is often painful." Explaining, he described how Mystra placed flowers in his bleeding eye sockets. Grimacing, Wendy refused to believe it. but Krogenar insisted. "Since then, I can sometimes see It." he mused. Her head tilted, and she waited. She poked him. "The Weave, I meant. Once in a rare moment, I can see It." She leaned in, "What does it look like?" Wonder filled his malformed half-orc face, making it almost handsome. "Its..." His head turned, nose sniffed - "They are here." he whispered.
Krogenar's Trip: Chapter 30 Standing outside the shelter, Wendy slapped her arms against her sides, satisfied by the stinging sensation this caused. It fended off the cold, and forced her extremities back into working order. She waited, and watched. Before long, low, silvery shapes - wolves - coalesced from the wafting snow clouds. Padding on the icy ground, the lead wolf moved ahead, while the others waited. Lowering its head, it growled menacingly at Wendy. It was the duty of the alpha wolf, the leader, to inspect the unknown. Where was the injured wolf that had called? Once it was within range, Wendy smacked it sharply across the jaw. It skittered back, shaking its head, saliva flinging away into the snow. Eyes compressed with anger, it snarled louder, stalked towards the kenku. She struck again, and this time it turned to threaten again. Wendy did as Krogenar had instructed her. She turned her head away. Uninterested. Unafraid. She was the dominant wolf here. ............................. The sled raced along in the snow, pulled by the wolves. From the sled, Krogenar looked up from where he lay, up into Wendy's face. She looked straight ahead, not looking down at him, focusing on the ground ahead. Pride swelled within him, but he hid it from her. She was a strider. Chapters
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