A Powerful People

This one started out as an idea floating around in my head for a bigger book but it slowly morphed into an entry for a local writing contest that I never got around to entering. The theme of the contest was "morals" or something like that. It never really turned out as well as I wanted but I think it still sent the proper message that I originally wanted to portray. It is written as two mirror view points of the same event. I hope you enjoy.

A Powerful People

We were a powerful people! Our home was on the border of the plains and the big trees. The great lake, Ochicobi, was only a day’s journey to the south. The mighty river, Ambohi, carried water and fish from the high peaks to our great lake. We had held this territory for nearly six generations since my grandfather’s grandfather had led our people in that glorious victory. It wasn’t easy, but he and the other men were able to take back this land from our hated enemies, the Crioux. They had stolen it from our ancestors nearly a hundred years before that. This time, their stay, will be much shorter.

Our land was vast and plentiful. It had the best ground for farming crops. The antelope herds frequently passed through our lands from the golden plain to drink at the edges of our mighty river. Honey from the many beehives in the forest gave us the strength we needed to defend our homes. Rocks from the nearby canyon provided excellent material for our homes.

My little sisters often returned from gathering wild vegetables with my mother carrying sweet smelling flowers. “Those are ridiculous,” I would say, pretending to sound like a grown man, but inside I liked the smell of those yellow flowers in the spring. I miss that smell. I miss my sisters.

My father was a great warrior, but early in my life, I saw his faults. His mind was easily taken by anger. The Crioux would often raid our herds and slay many of our people. They would crawl over our fences at night, like cowards, and spill the blood of our people. This angered us all, but my father, as chief, felt it was his duty to be the most angry. Some of the elders rebuked his anger, but others, mostly the younger generation, encouraged his wrath.

“We cannot let them run free while the blood of our brothers cries from the earth!” they would demand. At that time, I didn’t know which side to trust. I was young. I didn’t know who was right. I just knew that something had to be done to make things peaceful again. I wanted peace more than anything.

I knew that we Aku were not innocent throughout my early years. Often, my father would lead some of our best men into the flat lands to raid and kill the Crioux, but always in daylight. We did not hide in the night like cowards. We fought like men and avenged the death of our brothers.

In my younger years I had thought within my heart, “We have to make them feel as we do! They would know how it feels to have death at their feet.” But then, not long ago, a thought woke my soul, “They do feel the same as we do. They are humans just as we are humans.” We had been killing each other and taking each other’s lands for thousands of years. They were taking revenge just as we were taking revenge.

Once I realized this, I would have done anything to stop the war that had broken out. But by then it was too late. We had already lost. Our lands were gone. Our herds of cattle, driven off and killed or stolen. What was left of our brave men were scattered in the forest. Our women and children were forced to leave our home and walk aimlessly into the never ending plains. I hear they survive off the morning dew and wild grass. They are not able to hunt, to chase the antelope that mock the women and children with their playful leaps. They are weak and hungry. They are scared. No one can help them. Just me.

I am Ita-kokay! Son of Ita-Mowmbay, the last great chief of my powerful people! It is my duty to regain our home. To take back our pride – to destroy all that stand in my way!

A Powerful People

We are a powerful people! Our home was on a desolate hillside that was undeserving of a name. Our only water came to us from two small springs that trickled slowly into the barren lands. Very few trees grew in this wasteland and those that did, provided very little shade from the hot sun. We had been driven to this forsaken land by the Aku, our hated enemies. They tricked our fathers into a false hope for peace. They had driven us from our beautiful home in the forest many, many years ago. But now we have taken it back. This gorgeous land is ours forever.

We used to struggle every day to use the scarce water to cultivate our crops and grow large trees to provide shade. Our herds were small; mostly goats because they drank little of our precious water. Occasionally, weary beasts would attempt to drink from our waterholes. It provided a rare opportunity for meat. The few vegetables that would grow in our gardens were rough and unsatisfying.

I did everything I could to teach my younger brothers how to fight. I had a special stick that I shaped into a spear. I would practice with it every day, teaching my brothers all that I knew. One day, I knew that I would use that stick to retake our homes. That day finally came.

My father is the greatest warrior alive. It was his courage and cunning that led us to this victory. He would often sacrifice the few hours he had with our family at night, and spend that time leading raids on the Aku. No man is better suited to lead us than my father! The Aku are so dumb. They never expected us to come in the

dark of the night. They would only attack us in the day when we could see their faces. We knew when they were coming.

“They will not live peacefully in our home while we struggle for life in this wasteland!” my father cried on the night before our victory. At that time, I believed him. I did not know the truth of war. I just knew that everyone believed the same thing. This war would make our people peaceful again.

I knew that we Crioux were not innocent throughout my days as a child. I often heard stories from my father about raids on the Aku. How he had slaughtered them without losing a single man; how he had outsmarted them. We fought like men and avenged the death of our brothers.

In my younger years I had thought within my heart, “We have to make them feel as we do! They would know how it feels to have death at their feet.” But then, not long ago, a thought woke my soul, “They do feel the same as we do. They are humans just as we are humans.” We had been killing each other and taking each other’s lands for thousands of years. They were taking revenge just as we were taking revenge.

Once I realized this, I would have done anything to stop the war that had broken out. But by then it was too late. We had already won the war. Our home was retaken. I was happy for my people. I celebrated with them as we feasted night after night on the lands bountiful offerings. Our women and children could sleep well at night on soft beds made from luscious plants. They wake in the morning without the fear of finding enough food to satisfy their hunger. We are happy now and perhaps, a little too happy. The Aku will return and try to take

back what is rightfully ours, but I will defend it. Alone if I have to.

I am Imong! Son of Imong-li, the first great chief of my powerful people! It is my duty to defend our home. To defend our pride – to destroy all that stand in my way!

Copyright © Jason C. Murdock 2011

All Rights Reserved

The Legend of Jall and Gildeth

I wrote this first story for an Age of Empires: Online competition. It took me about an hour and I was actually quite pleased with how it end up. Sadly, the competition turned out to be a sham. (Booo Microsoft Game Studios, Booooo!) But on the plus side, I received a lot of votes from the community for best story. I hope you enjoy it!

The Legend of Jall and Gildeth

Jall McBrendeth stood firm as the cold night wind tossed his grey beard. His tattered shirt hung like a rag over his shoulder, revealing his heaving chest. His arms, the size of a normal man’s legs, hung at his side deceivingly calm. In his right hand, his trusty axe Bagnar; the blade dripping with fresh blood. With his left hand, he tossed a fist full of grey fur to the snow. His eyes focused on nothing but Gildeth’s red eyes, the dire wolf that had been torturing the Celtic village of Menghall for years now. The light of the full moon reflecting upon the snow covered hills revealed just enough of the savage beast that Jall was confident. Confident that this time, at least one of them would not live to see the sun shine another day.

For a moment, the wind died and it seemed as if hell had frozen over. The absence of the howling wind revealed Gildeth’s heaving lungs. A few drops of blood dripped to the snow below the wolf, causing a confident smile to grow across the legendary Woad Raider’s face. Victory, like it had been so many times before, was nigh at hand.

Jall took a step towards Gildeth. The snow crunched under the giant man’s weight. He took another step forward, and yet Gildeth stood firm.

Gildeth, as weak as he appeared in the man’s eyes, knew exactly what he was doing. He too had been in this situation many times before. Hero after legendary hero had come to slay him. Destroy him for hunting in his own lands. These hills and valleys belonged to Gildeth long before any Celt came to live in them. They, just like the deer and the elk, were trespassing on his land and were subject to his rule. True, this man had shed his blood first, but that meant nothing. Gildeth had bled a great deal in his long life, yet never had defeat overcome him.

Upon the Jall’s third step, Gildeth revealed his massive fangs and a low growl wiped the smile from Jall’s face. Gildeth’s neck hair raised just as Jall crouched low and raised his axe, ready to react. Gildeth stared at Jall’s eyes waiting for the man to blink. He knew this cold weather affected this man much more than it did him.

Jall returned the wolf’s threatening stare. His eyes focused like never before. Like a flash of white lightning, Jall lunged at Gildeth, his axe Bagnar swinging madly. The soft moonlight seemed to be cut in two by the swiftness Jall’s movement, but Gildeth calmly leapt out of harm’s way. As if to mock the man, Gildeth snorted and pawed the snow. Jall paused just long enough to understand the insult. He lunged again, but this time, with much more control. The wolf bounced away again, but Jall was right behind him, swinging his massive axe.

After one particularly sloppy swing, Gildeth, instead of jumping away, pounced directly at Jall’s neck with fangs ready to tear at his flesh. Jall’s left hand was there instead and met the wolf’s razor sharp teeth. With rapid snaps, Gildeth attempted to sever any of Jall’s fingers that happened to fall out of place. The whole engagement seemed to happen faster than the blink of an eye as Jall’s axe returned immediately to meet the wolf’s underbelly. Much to Jall’s disbelief, his axe cut nothing but the cold air.

Gildeth had leapt from his grasp and disappeared behind the closest snow covered pine. Jall quickly crunched after the fleeing wolf. His eyes glanced back and forth from the tracks in the snow to the terrain around him, expecting the wolf to pounce from any direction.

He followed the tracks as they darted in and out, this way and that through the white, snow covered forest. With the snow up to his knees, Jall knew he had would be at a disadvantage if the wolf were to pounce. But regardless, Jall pushed on. “Let the wolf have its advantage, he needs every bit of help he can get!” Jall thought boastfully.

Finally, Jall paused, the only sound coming from the air escaping his nose. He held his breath and carefully listened to the world around him. Nothing. For what seemed like ages, the world was silent. Like a jolt to his heart, the faintest rustle sounded behind him. He turned with a speed that could only be matched by the god’s themselves, only to see a small patch of heavy snow fall from a weighed down tree branch. Disappointed, Jall released the air trapped within his chest. The noise of which, was exactly what Gildeth had been waiting for.

From behind, Gildeth silently launched his body through the air. His claws ready to shred, his fangs eager to claim another victim. Time itself seemed to slow as Jall turned. His eyes lit up with desire as he caught sight of the massive wolf nearly upon him. He reacted just as he had before and caught the wolf with his empty left hand. But this time, Gildeth expected it and tore Jall’s left hand completely off, leaving a bloody stump. Jall barely noticed his hand was gone as his rage removed all feeling from his body. He swung his axe in a great downward motion, narrowly missing Gildeth’s mid section.

After another playful pounce, Gildeth snorted again with the man’s hand firmly in his teeth. Jall’s insane roar echoed in the hollow night and cause more snow to fall from the trees. Gildeth turned nonchalantly and disappeared behind another tree. This time, Jall was right behind the demon wolf and saw his tail just before it disappeared behind each tree. The faint sound of the sea crashing upon the base of the cliffs far below added another sound to the deathly night other than Jall’s rants and swears.

Gildeth looked back every so often to make sure that the man was close behind him. Not too close, but just close enough that he could see the man and mock him with his woeful gaze. In all his fun, Gildeth made one mistake. He had taken a left instead of a right at the great rock. He now found himself trapped between a cliff and a crazed Woad Raider.

“You’re hide will lay on my floor where my children’s grand children will forever mock your death!” Jall pointed his axe at Gildeth and bellowed into the night, knowing he had the wolf trapped. Gildeth turned to face the man and dropped his hand into the snow. Jall looked at his hand, but Gildeth stared firmly into Jall’s eyes. As soon as the man returned his stare, Gildeth mocked the man once more and kicked Jall’s severed hand over the side of the cliff. It fell like a frozen stone to the jagged rocks below.

Enraged, Jall bellowed again and charged the wolf. His charge was overly exaggerated, knowing the wolf would either jump out of the way or attack. He waited for the faintest of motion before dedicating any real momentum. Just as he thought, Gildeth jumped to the side and Jall jumped to meet him, flailing his axe. The cold steel met the warm flesh of Gildeth’s front shoulder. The blade burned like fire as it destroyed his shoulder. Nevertheless, Gildeth used his other three limbs to propel his body at Jall’s neck. Just like the times before, Jall used his left arm to repel the attack. But without a hand, his block completely missed and the wolf sank his teeth deep into the muscular neck of the man. Gasping for breath, Jall sank his axe deep into the side of Gildeth’s chest.

They both fell hard to the snow covered ground and Jall struggled to pull his axe from Gildeth’s rib cage. Gildeth landed on top Jall’s chest and sank his teeth deeper and deeper into the man’s neck and clawed at his face. Abandoning his axe, Jall threw the wolf off his chest towards the cliff’s edge. So great was the force of the throw that Gildeth almost lost his grip on Jall’s neck, but instead pulled the man with him. With his hind legs dangling over the edge, Gildeth struggled to pull himself up. Indeed, he was pulled up, but not by his own strength. It was Jall that now stood, bringing Gildeth with him. Jall stood straight as an arrow and wrapped the wolf in a mighty bear hug. He squeezed with all his strength trying to break every bone in the wolf’s body. Despite the many cracks and pops, Gildeth held firm.

With one last breathless groan, Jall fell over, his giant frame thundering into the snow. Both man and wolf lay motionless on the frozen ground. Silence replaced the sounds of death that only moments before, echoed in the icy night. Gradually, the wind began to blow. Snow began to fall. Clouds rebuked the moon’s faint light. Time passed on, forever forgetting the Legend of Jall and Gildeth.

I alone, Muninn the Raven of the great God Odin, witnessed this epic battle. It is my calling to tell the tale of Jall and Gildeth, but never reveal him that walked away and he that was pushed to his death that hellish night.

Copyright © Jason C. Murdock

All Rights Reserved