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  Return to the Fierce Land

  Book One

  N.C. Bolton

  Copyright © 2020 by N.C. Bolton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Prologue

  From one of the old writings:

  In the beginning of days we traveled no further than our own feet walked. So we were one with our surroundings, as we were with each other. Yet the flight of birds captivated our minds and provoked our jealousy at their freedom. What would it be like, to live on high and look down? Were it not for the birds, we might still be one with the land, satisfied to walk along its surface, securely settled in the places that lay within our reach.

  But we longed for the life of the bird and so built tall, wide places to see our world from above. It mattered not that many of us fell and died scaling the high walls or traversing along the many stairs. We wanted to see more than what lay only within the realm of our arms and legs.

  Then we considered the fish, how the secret depths and breadths of waters housed and nurtured them. So we built vessels to ride on the water, discovered the boundaries of it. It held no deterrent that many died in the waters from storms and calamity. So we took the measure of the water and rode upon its restless covering.

  On we went, ever seeking to break boundaries, delighting in our prowess. And we became great and mighty among all the people, as far removed from others as a bird or powerful sea creature. And in our seeking, we found the beginning of destruction, but failed to recognize it. And now you hold this writing in your hand. Does the same destruction stalk you now?

  Chapter One

  The scream of a soaring hawk sounded above Rikk. He halted for a moment while he scanned the sky. Wings spread wide, the predator circled. Soon it came to rest in a treetop and waited to spot any movement of prey before it swooped downward to capture it in swift, deadly silence. He returned to the task in front of him and gave his attention to the satisfying rhythm and sensations of woodcutting.

  Rikk gripped the smooth handle of the axe, its heavy, weighted head arcing toward the log, ending with a satisfying thunk before an upswing began the cycle again. The activity created its own music inside him, accompanied by the murmur of wind and birdsong in the forest around him, punctuated by each percussive strike of the axe. Time became fluid; a river he coasted, mind and body joined to the task.

  His powerful downward stroke on the log echoed through the woods with a loud crack. A distressed animal cry mingled with it. Head turned, he focused on locating the direction. A swipe with the back of his hand cleared the sweat off his forehead. He scanned the clearing and surrounding forest. A muffled, plaintive cry sounded to his left. He laid down the axe and strode toward it with sure, quiet steps.

  Beyond a fallen log, the flicker of a small, white tail caught his eye, followed by the sound of a bleat. A fawn. He grinned and edged toward the tiny deer, its eyes widening while he drew closer. The small body thrashed and struggled against its trapped foot.

  Rikk halted and breathed out a whispered, “Shush.”

  The panicked eyes blinked and stared at him when he knelt near. He reached out with slow, gentle hands. The fawn stiffened, so he coaxed it. “There now, there now.”

  He grasped the slender ankle and drew it loose from the gnarl of branches. Its leg free, the fawn scampered into the trees. Rikk straightened, chuckled at the retreating form and called, “Be careful in your travels, my friend.”

  He turned around and his breath caught. Erdon stood like a statue near him, his usual jovial expression gone and solemnity in its place, while his gentle, mellow voice filled the stillness. “The elders call for you this night. Arrive at sundown. We’ll be waiting.”

  The sweat on Rikk’s face and torso turned cold, and the peace of the forest around him seemed to recede. Erdon gave him a small smile and a calm nod before he strode down the path to the village, his brown cloak brushing the grass with a whispering sound.

  I knew this would happen soon.

  Rikk stood a moment, eyes in a blank stare, deaf to the normal forest sounds of birdsong or breeze. He drew in a breath and trudged back to the log. The woodcutting must be finished before he answered the summons.

  His usual physical enjoyment of chopping firewood retreated while his practiced muscles completed the task and his thoughts focused inward. The months-long apprehension circling at the corners of his awareness now sprang upon him in full force, tightening the muscles of his neck and scalp.

  Another remote journey. These ten years in the village had brought him to a safe place where he reached manhood, but had he ever really belonged? Now he had little time to find out the answer.

  The possibility of leaving hovered over him like a heavy gray cloud. Perhaps this beloved home had never fully been his, despite his fervent desire to be one of the people. All his wishes couldn’t change what must be. Or what had been.

  This summons from the elders was the first blow. The one that would begin the splintering of his life here, as surely as the blows of his axe splintered the logs before him. And he was as helpless as the wood, only able to endure as the cracks spread and his life changed in ways he couldn’t see and didn’t want.

  The firewood stacked, he donned his shirt and cloak against the early evening chill, filled a large sling with wood, and hoisted it onto his right shoulder. The ends of his thick, brown hair caught under the strap, and he lifted it away from the base of his neck. He flicked the hair back and resettled the bulky weight.

  The last strong rays of the setting sun filtered through the trees and illuminated sections of the path he followed. His heart paced itself to the serene patterns of work and prayer here, internal music he’d hoped would never cease.

  He passed numerous stone cottages, the sun touching the lazy spirals of smoke rising from the chimneys. The murmur of speech and the smell of cooking drifted from the open windows. Little ones stopped to greet him before darting inside to their meal. He patted each small head, his heart swelling at their smiles.

  How different his early memories would be if he’d been one of them. He’d have a heart like theirs, free and untroubled, trusting and ready to be taught. Not a heart that struggled and questioned, even in such a peaceful place. His steps slowed when he approached the large stone meeting hall at the center of the village. Its circular structure sported moss and ivy that traced green patterns across the stone. He halted at a window and eased the sling down, running his fingers over the edge of the open shutter. He’d need to sand down the rough edges tomorrow, to prevent the unpleasant possibility of splinters invading someone’s hand.

  The mellow song of the elders diverted his focus, and his mind embraced the familiar melody. During the singing of prayers, his reserve around the elders always eased. He could forget the fact that he was from a different land, and for a time could believe himself to be fully joined with the people and the worship of The One. Yet dread had now birthed a chilly tension inside that threatened to overwhelm the constant respectful love he bore for his adopted people and the faith they lived by. The faith he wanted to live by. Eyes closed, he drifted a moment on the melody, trying to join with its tranquil invitation.

  “The day draws into peace, and prayers are breathed in softness. Our hearts embrace the changes the One bestows to each.”

  The words touched him, yet his tense shoulders resisted the call. Some changes he couldn’t embrace, like the prospect of leaving. Daily life here was secure, peaceful. He’d never known that before. He drew in some air
and opened his eyes to search the sky with its brilliant pastels of sunset. His gaze dropped to the beloved forest whose still, cool depths always soothed him. Unease crept through his chest, but a man shouldn’t entertain fear. The words he’d called at the frightened fawn echoed in his mind.

  Be careful in your travels.

  Swallowing against the twist in his gut, he boosted up the sling and opened the oak door. His footsteps were silent on the well-worn dirt floor. Inside the spacious hall, he unloaded and stacked the firewood before adding some to the glowing coals in the fireplace. Flames licked around the new wood, and he held his hands toward the warmth while he straightened up. Numerous empty wooden tables and chairs filled the interior, waiting in shadowed silence for the next joyous village meeting.

  A glance at the heavy round conference table revealed the seven men with benevolent, aging faces lit by gentle candlelight. Strong features etched with kindness were displayed in each man, augmented by dark hair and beards, some threaded with various quantities of silver and gray.

  He had hoped to be one of them one day, his own hair and beard proudly showing the progression of well-lived years. He took the empty seat between Allon and Erdon and wished his heart would return to its former place of peace.

  “We’ve taken counsel.” After scanning the other elders, Allon spoke in his measured way. “Something new has come upon all of us. Even those of us unaccustomed to visions in our dreams. Your sister Myla is grown now and we’ve all had dreams concerning her. The same dreams of bringing her to the village.”

  “I’ve had no dream,” Rikk blurted. Dread had forced his words and he dropped his gaze, nerves tingling in shame at his quick dispute and the fear that fueled it. Of course he’d had no dream. He wasn’t an elder and probably never would be.

  After a short silence, he raised his eyes.

  Compassion softened Erdon’s intense gaze. “It’s not necessary for you to have dreamed. Myla must be found for the sake of you both, and for the changes her rescue will cause. We know it will bring a time of tests. For you, perhaps for all of us. We must meet the challenge laid before us, though we cannot see the outcome. You know the writings warn us not to fear a difficult path when it is the right one.”

  He paused, drawing in a breath as he glanced at the other elders before returning his gaze to Rikk. “We don’t know why the fortunes of our village have somehow become connected to your former home. We can only wait for that to become clear. But this journey is yours to make. You know this path lies before you. We’ve often spoken of it together.”

  Rikk stared at the flame of the nearby candle, his mind whirring with questions and thoughts. Speaking of a thing was much easier than actually walking a path. Especially one he wished to avoid. He quenched a hot flare of indignation. Decisions were always made for him, and manhood had failed to change that. But any display of anger was rejected here, just as evidence of fear would have prompted correction in his childhood home.

  Why shouldn’t he feel fear or anger at the prospect of such a journey? Didn’t the writings also forbid taking a path that may lead to destruction for oneself or others? If the elders couldn’t see the outcome, was it wise to compel him to undertake this path? He sighed. Why bother giving voice to his questions when all the elders were in agreement? How would he ever really belong unless he saw things as they did? Or at least forced himself to comply? He studied the seven pairs of eyes. The words he’d heard were true, but his heart fought against them. He dreaded the journey, yet somehow he must harbor no anger, no fear.

  I can’t escape my tasks. I’m a man now.

  If he refused to go, the peace he’d known here would leave him and the sad disappointment of the elders would tear at his heart. And what of his sister if he wouldn’t leave to find her? Agony at the pain of both choices wrenched through his chest.

  He looked around at the beloved faces, his heart drawing strength from them. “I’ll do as you ask.”

  Allon held his hand out to Rikk, and the rest of the elders joined hands as Allon began a prayer-song for strength and guidance. “In Your paths we walk, in Your strength we prevail.”

  Rikk willed his heart to obey the words, to be faithful as the elders were. The conviction proved only as deep as his skin, while his bones and body remained unconvinced. He shut his eyes and forced away the doubts.

  Concentrate on the words.

  After the prayer, Allon turned to Rikk. “Your friends Enmin and Vinnt have offered to accompany you. Their gifts will serve you well.”

  Rikk wasn’t surprised at Vinnt’s willingness to go. Everything was a welcome adventure to him. But the always cautious Enmin? Why would he volunteer to go back to a place he’d escaped from just as Rikk had? Enmin had no family left back there. Yet Enmin’s steadfast resolve would be a welcome quality on such an undertaking. Rikk resigned himself to the long journey, his turmoil easing at the thought of his friends accompanying him. He glanced up at Allon. “Much preparation is needed.”

  Allon nodded and patted Rikk’s shoulder. “We’ll take counsel with all who have knowledge for travel. Enmin has been very helpful in schooling us on some of the customs of the Fierce Land. Go home now, eat and rest. We’ll call a village meeting tomorrow.”

  Erdon stood and dipped his head at the seated men then turned to Rikk. “Let’s go home now.”

  Rikk rose and walked with him to their stone cottage. Erdon stopped outside near its door, the glow from a candlelit window illuminating his face.

  “Your second mother will be sad at the news of your leaving, but she’ll understand. It would rest easier on us both if we could see the whole outcome. And such knowledge would lighten you as well.” Erdon laid a hand on Rikk’s shoulder, and fixed understanding eyes on him. “But we must trust, as you must. All our roads lead where the One would have us go. I am glad every day that you were led here, to us.”

  Rikk pulled Erdon to him, resting in the comfort of the love that always emanated from his adopted father. He swallowed back a surge of grief, picturing Erdon and Aryla in their home without him, praying for his return. He released his embrace and laid a hand on Erdon’s shoulder. “Part of my heart stays here with you, Second Father.”

  “And part of ours travels with you.” He smiled and opened the door for Rikk. Warmth and the rich aroma of stew greeted their entrance. Aryla flashed them a smile and stepped to the table at the center of the room. She placed a large covered pot on the rough-hewn surface, a platter of bread and wooden bowls and spoons nearby.

  “Come and sit.” Aryla sat first and reached for their hands when they settled. Her lightly lined, yet child-like face was topped by light brown hair streaked with white. She sang a prayer of thanks in her clear, high voice. “Your love brings us all good things. We give thanks for food and home. May our lives bring honor to You.”

  When she finished they sat for silent moments, offering their individual thoughts to the One. As each head rose, they breathed out, “So it is.”

  Erdon uncovered the pot and fragrant steam curled into the air. They passed their bowls to him. “There’ll be a meeting tomorrow to plan Rikk’s trip to the Fierce Land. We must settle our hearts.”

  He nodded at Aryla, who pressed her lips together as a tear fell. Erdon covered one of her hands with his. Eyes soft, he smiled. “He’ll return to us. Fear not.”

  She drew in a breath and looked at Rikk. “I won’t despair. I’ll wait and pray.”

  Questions bubbled up in Rikk’s heart and forced their way into words. “How do you know I will return when you said yourself you cannot see the outcome? Maybe I won’t make it back, but Myla will.”

  A momentary expression of surprise flickered in Erdon’s widened eyes. He tapped his fingers together, studying his hands before he replied. “It’s true that the visions showed her arrival, but it seemed clear that you, Vinnt, and Enmin were there also. But the purpose and the tests accompanying the return were unclear in meaning. Perhaps you will be given a vision concerning this.�
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  Rikk shook his head. “I’ve never had one.”

  “I know, but you will at the proper time. You’ve not had the need for one yet. The writings tell us that where there is no need, there is no reason for provision.”

  “Don’t I need to know the why of things? I thought visions were for direction.”

  “They are. And the direction of the journey is clear. The One does not always tell us why something is necessary.”

  Rikk rubbed his forehead, as if the motion would somehow clear his thoughts. “But I want to know why.”

  Erdon chuckled and patted Rikk’s arm. “Of course you do. All of us do. Perhaps the One doesn’t tell us why because we may waste time trying to find a different way to the same end. Something that seems easier.”

  Aryla reached up to smooth back Rikk’s hair. She gave him a fond grin. “I know it’s hard to trust sometimes. Especially when our mind cannot understand the purpose in a path. It’s then that I remind myself that the One seeks our good, so that is where the path will lead.”

  Her brave expression eased some of Rikk’s heaviness. Erdon passed them their filled bowls. How long until Rikk’s own heart settled? He’d faced a similar unknown on the journey here years ago, but to go back distressed his soul. He wanted to trust the visions, to rest in assurance that he would return from there, yet he couldn’t shake the fear that threatened every time he let his thoughts travel back to his former home. Pushing away the dark cloud of dread, he managed to swallow some food and tried to appear calm. A man should be steady and rise to his testing.

  Rikk remained silent for the majority of the council meeting, taking his cue from the quiet attention of Vinnt and Enmin beside him at the table. He hoped some of their calm energy would transfer into him. He studied his travel companions. Though both possessed the same strong, steady quality, they were opposite in looks and temperament. Enmin, slender and serious, with black hair and gray eyes, and Vinnt, tall and sturdy, with brown eyes, light hair, and a ready smile.