Destiny

Valon Tel’al woke to the sound of a song thrush. Its joyous chorus stirred him from a slumber of restless dreams. Dreams of fire, and infinite black. Dreams of a woman crying, and stars collapsing. The screams of entire civilizations had pierced his sleep. Staring at the ceiling, he enveloped himself in the bird’s music, letting it wash away the phantoms of the night. He reached over to his bedside table and picked up a metal orb, small enough to hold between his index finger and his thumb as he inspected it. It’s surface was marred by long, deep scratches and dents, and where once was pristine metal was now blackened and burned. What it was, neither Valon nor his father could say, but it was left to him by his mother, and it comforted him to have it near. Sometimes it was as if he could feel her presence within it, and it aware of him in return.

As more and more voices joined in the thrush’s symphony, heralding the imminent arrival of dawn, Valon decided it was time to rise. He had to peel himself off his sheets thanks to the night sweats that accompanied his dreams, an occurrence that was becoming more frequent and more harrowing each time. His muscles ached from yesterday’s work, a good sign Valon thought, ‘pain meant growth’ his father Thane would always say. Lowering himself to the cold, stone floor, he performed a series of intricate stretches taught to him by his father, loosening his tendons in preparation for the day ahead. His room was cramped and bare, the walls of cracked and crumbling plaster devoid of any colour or decoration except for the sprawling star chart Valon had painted on the far wall. He stood for a minute staring at the mass of silver flecks, trying to pick out Sol, their sun. Once found, he traced his finger along the wall, out to Earth, then Luna, the moon, then Mars, Saturn, and the Jovians, then out to The Reef, Uranus, Pluto, the Belt, and finally to the bare plaster of the unknown. Valon sometimes looked up at the stars in the night sky, and wondered how long it would take to paint them all. His bedroom wall wouldn’t be enough to hold them anyway. He wished he could visit them one day, he and Thane, then come back and finish the star chart together, adding in all those they had visited.

Turning away from the wall, Valon stuffed his mother’s metal orb into his pocket and made his way outside into the crisp mountain air. It was that brief, and incredibly rare time of the day, just before daybreak, where the whole world was finely balanced between light and dark. He inhaled deeply, taking in his surroundings. Their little stone farmhouse lay nestled at the feet of a great chain of mountains. These immense slabs of granite rose from a boreal rug of pines and conifers that covered their lower slopes and valleys. Their sharp, grey peaks were softened by an eternal blanket of snow, which was steadily creeping lower as winter set in. Thane had read in an old map that these mountains were once known as the ‘Trollheimen’ in a place called Old Norway. Ancient names and borders mattered little these days, and nobody could say for certain where their ancestors came from before the Collapse, but for Valon, Thane, and their village, it was home. Thane reckoned their farmhouse - with its bare stone walls and moss covered roof - had lain abandoned long before even the Collapse. The absence of any sort of electrical or heating system attested to that. It had taken Thane many long weeks of gruelling labour to transform this once ruined shell into a habitable abode, but out here on the fringes of the old world, that was a small price to pay for safety and shelter.

Valon went around the side of the house to find Thane already up. No matter how early Valon rose, Thane always seemed to be one step ahead. Right now, his tall figure was bent over the dented, rusted hulk of their S-11 sparrow model, tuning it’s troublesome - albeit overworked - vector drive. After his distressful night, the sight of his father at work was like a stanchion of reality. His father’s hands may have been scarred and callused by years of living on the frontier, but it was his eyes that betrayed the hardships of his past. Sunken and lined by whatever ghosts haunted him, they were intently fixed on the micrometric vise he was unwinding from the upturned sparrow. His close cut black hair may have been flecked with grey, but there was a strength in his shoulders unattainable by men ten years his junior. To Valon, he was as solid and as reassuring as the mountains surrounding them.

Thane took a whiff of Valon as he approached. “You’re late, and you still smell like sleep. What’d I spend years jerry-rigging those pipes for if you’re just going to skimp on scrubbing?” He messed Valon’s hair with a greased hand and wrapped him in an embrace.

Valon hugged him tight. “A clean face isn’t going to save me if the Fallen attack.”

“Yeah, well a bit of civility is what separates us and them. The Collapse took nearly everything from humanity, but I won’t let us be reduced to savages. And let me tell you, those Fallen smell a hell of a lot worse than you.” Thane pulled away. His expression sank when Valon failed to return his smile. “Bad dreams again?” Valon managed a weak nod, a single tear forming in the corner of his eye.

“I saw her again papa, I saw her,” he said, tears now streaming freely down his cheeks. “The woman in my dreams is mama, I know it is. I can feel her.” Thane pulled him into a tighter embrace, Valon’s head shaking against his chest as his sobs intensified. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? My fault she’s dead. I killed her… I killed her. She was screaming... crying… for me… at me! Oh Light father what have I done!... What have I—”

Suddenly Thane had Val gripped by his shoulders, his deep blue eyes looking sternly into his. “What have I told you Val? Don’t you ever say that, you hear me? Not ever!” Thane pulled him in tightly again, and continued in a gentler tone. “Your mother was sick Val, you had nothing to do with her death. Nothing. They’re only nightmares, dreams. There wasn’t anything you, me, or anybody could have done to save her, you hear?

Val’s sobs gradually faded away, before he murmured his assent into his father’s chest. “I just wish I could have met her father,” he said, his voice still thick with tears.

“I know son, I know,” said Thane softly, stroking his son’s head reassuringly. “Your mother loved you very much, and know that every time you look toward the stars, she is up there, watching over you.”

Val reached into his coat pocket, his hand tightening around the cool surface of the dented metal orb. He thought he could feel a faint warmth emanating from within, a warmth that stirred ever so slightly under his touch. I feel you mother, he thought to himself, gripping the metal even tighter.

“Come on,” said Thane unwrapping his arms and nodding towards the sparrow. “Help me with this vector drive, we have a lot to do today.” He stood then for moment appraising Val in that deep blue gaze of his. “You’re getting taller by the day boy, fairly soon it will be you cradling my head in your chest!” he said with a smile.

Val was tall for his seventeen years, but that is where the similarities with his father began and ended. Val’s skin was a pale blue, so pale it was nearly white, like the colour of the ice floes that sometimes drifted down the western coast. ‘His hair shone silver like the full-moon in all its radiant glory, and if the silver of his hair shone bright, the silver of his eyes burned with the light of a thousand stars, like portals to the firmament above.’ So were the words of Greta Langtand, the eldest amongst the villagers, when she first beheld him. Side effects of his mother’s sickness, Thane had told him.

The sun had now risen above the stark, jagged peaks of the Trollheimen, painting their east-facing slopes in a wash of brilliant oranges and yellows, as if the mountains were suddenly enamelled in solid gold. A beautiful morning, thought Val. Despite the sun’s radiance, it gave off little heat. A sharp gust of wind spiralled down from the lofty peaks, cutting through cloth and flesh alike, chilling him to the bone. Beautiful but fierce. A bit like Sienna, a wry smile formed at the corner of his lips at the thought of his friend.

“Are you gonna stand there smiling at the clouds all day, or do you want to come help me with this sparrow?” asked Thane loudly. Val rushed over to where his father was hard at work, the smile wiped from his face. “Good. Now hand me that iometer.” Val did as he was told, but his father must have sensed the question forming on his lips, for he suddenly spoke without taking his eyes from his work. “Come on, out with it boy. The unasked questions are often the most dangerous to answer.”

Slightly caught off guard, Val swallowed and continued anyway with the question he had been formulating in his head. “I want to go with you today papa,” he said in a firm voice, “on the expedition. I’m old enough now, why shouldn’t I?”

“No,” replied Thane, in a voice so firm it made Val’s sound like a snowball next to a boulder. “We’ve been through this before Val, and my answer is still no. It’s too dangerous.”

“But why papa?” he asked again pleadingly.

“Why? Do you want me to tell you why? Where do I start! It’s a sixty mile journey over treacherous roads and icy mountains, and we’ll be travelling like the wind on our sparrows. If the journey doesn’t kill you, then what’s waiting at that old power plant might. There could be wolves, bandits, or even Fallen for all we know! Even if the plant is truly abandoned, it still wouldn’t be safe. These Golden Age structures are all falling apart, ready to collapse at any moment.” He took a deep breath, and turned to look Val in the eyes. “So Val, if that doesn’t sufficiently explain the ‘why’ of it, then I don’t know what will. Besides, who’d look after the farm while I’m away?”

Subdued by the heat in Thane’s words, Val bowed his head in submission, but he was nothing if not stubborn. “If it’s so dangerous, then why are you going?”

“You know why I have to go,” sighed Thane. “If we don’t restock the village’s supply of fusion cells before winter sets in, I fear many won’t make it through to see spring.”

Winters were hard up here in the Trollheimen. Very hard. Like their farmhouse, most of the village was dated pre-Golden Age, lacking any advanced technology or design. When the blizzards came in, the entire village could be covered in three feet of snow, and that was in a soft winter. Many of the older villagers would die without the fusion cells needed to power the various generators that were used for heating. And lately their stocks had been dwindling. It was over three years since such an expedition to one of the abandoned power plants along the north-western coast had been necessary, and this one was by no means a done deal. Every time a significant expedition or undertaking was proposed, the villagers would gather to debate - and ultimately vote on - its necessity. One such gathering would happen today, the expedition might not even go ahead.

Nothing for me to miss out on then.

Thane had little patience for these meetings, ‘the way to get started is to stop talking and get doing,’ is what he would always say. But Val knew better than to believe they were entirely worthless. Living in the wilds made people cautious and chary, and not always wrongfully so. When you’ve heard the stories of what a roving band of Fallen can do to unarmed villagers, you begin to see danger in everything. These debates, as frustrating as they could be, allowed the villagers to vent their fears into the open, and by doing so, they were sometimes able to overcome them. Sometimes. Sometimes the fears festering inside your head weren’t nearly as scary when spoken aloud. Sometimes.

“All done,” announced Thane, straightening from the sparrow. “Now, you go in and wash, and meet me back here in five minutes. Not a second more, we’re running late already.”

Val made his way inside to their ‘shower.’ Running water was a luxury among the villagers, but Thane had worked hard to redirect one of the many mountain streams nearby and channel it through a riff-raff of pipes into a central storage unit, all gathered over many years of scavenging. What passed for a shower, was a rusted metal crate lying in a hole dug into the ground. A long stalk of piping rose from the floor beside it, pipes of copper, steel and plastic - welded and bound together as best they could be - carried water from the cistern buried underground. Like most things in their world, practicality trumped aesthetics. The freezing cold water blasted Val from above, and his chest contracted from the sudden onslaught. Once the initial shock passed, he steadied his breathing and allowed the cold water to seep into every pore, relishing it’s vitalising effects. He ran his hands though his silver hair, washing out the sweat of last night. All in all, it was a short shower. Their store was by no means limitless, and with the first signs of winter already creeping in, it wouldn’t be long before the mountain streams froze over completely.

Washed and dressed, Val made his way outside to the steady hum of the sparrow’s vector drive, back up and running at last. Thane was already seated up front waiting. The sparrow was a Golden Age piece of tech, a land-based vehicle that used antigrav technology for rapid transportation. It was only designed for single rider use however, so with the added weight of Val, it wouldn’t be at optimal efficiency. Not to mention the thing was probably over a hundred years old, and only operational due to countless hours of tinkering. Nevertheless, it was an extremely rare and valuable piece of equipment, something that Thane had found in his years exploring the wilds. Propping himself up behind his father, Val held tightly onto his waist, the sparrow could have a real kick on acceleration.

“You ready boy?” called Thane over the low thrum of its drive.

“Ready,” replied Val.

Thane pressed on the throttle and they shot forward, racing down the narrow pathway that led from their farmhouse towards the village lower in the valley. The sparrow sped down the uneven dirt path, flittering just above the ground in perfect imitation of the bird for which it was named. Crouched low in the seat, Thane and Val were cut by the icy winds from which their sparrow gave little protection. Val pulled himself closer to his father, grateful that he at least had him as a breakwind. The copses of towering firs and pines surrounding them gradually grew thicker as they made their way down into the valley. It seemed almost laughable that an expedition was even necessary, with such an abundance of natural fuel surrounding them, but smoke was a dangerous thing out in the wilds, you never knew who, or what, could be watching. In any case, a fire would never be able to match the heating capabilities of the fusion generators, not unless they built a giant bonfire every night, and that was laughable.

Something suddenly caught his attention in the shadows between the trees. A bright blue glow, like a set of eyes staring out at him. When the eyes saw him looking, there was a sudden scurry of movement, and he saw a dark shape retreat deeper into the shadows of the forest.

He shook Thane’s shoulder. “Papa stop! Stop! I saw something.”

The sparrow jerked to a sudden halt, throwing Val into his father’s back.

“What is it boy? What do you see?”

“Over there,” said Val, pointing to the spot in the trees where he had seen the eyes. They had been eyes. “There were eyes looking at me, and something moving in the forest.”

Thane stared at the forest, a frown painted on his face. “Eyes, hmm. What do you think it was? A wolf? A bear?”

“I never seen any wolves with blue eyes papa. Or bears for that matter.”

“Blue eyes, hmm.” Thane turned his attention back to the path in front of him. “Well, whatever it is, it’s gone now.”

He doesn’t believe me. “Papa I swear I saw something, I’m not making it up.”

“Oh I know you’re not boy, I know. But you’ve been having troubled thoughts lately, and troubled thoughts can make men see troubled things—” Val opened his mouth to protest again but Thane continued on more firmly — “and in any case, we’re already late. Whatever you saw running around in the forest can wait. Ok?”

Thane had the sparrow already speeding down the path before he could reply. Maybe I am seeing things. After my dreams last night no wonder I’m on edge, jumping at shadows. But his thoughts flashed back to those bright blue eyes, staring straight at him. They were eyes. I saw them. For all Thane’s talk of troubled minds, he noticed the way his father would sometimes throw a sideways glance into the trees around them, so quick that Val barely noticed, but it was enough. So he does believe me.

The lands in the lower slopes of the valley were usually more verdant and lush compared to those higher up, but the first signs of winter were as evident here as anywhere else. The grass was brown and dying, the trees stark and bare.

So soon, thought Val. This time last year the trees still had at least half their leaves. Thane is right, this winter will be a hard one. Light, the council better let the expedition go ahead, or it might not just be the elders who don’t live to see spring.

The first sight of the village roused Val from his gloomy thoughts. The spire of the village church first came into view, sticking out over the treetops. The rest of the village followed as the little dirt path merged with a larger road, once of hard stone but now overgrown with long grass, that ran right through the centre of the village. Unlike their farmhouse, the buildings of the village were made entirely from wood, in every colour, from red, to brown, to blue, all faded and worn to dull imitations of their original shades. Roofs of wooden shingles now overgrown with layers of turf and grass, provided good natural insulation. More importantly, when viewed from afar, and from above, the village nearly seemed to blend in with its surroundings. The village church was the one give away, its wooden walls painted in white so faded to be nearly grey, sat right in the centre of town. Sitting atop the church’s spire, was a large adornment, two metal bars crossed at the middle. The symbol of some ancient religion Val had been told, pre-Golden Age. It has to be pre-Golden Age, he thought, before the Traveler. I wonder did the followers of this mysterious religion worship the Traveler instead when it arrived. Or did it anger them?

They were greeted by a hail of words as they entered the village proper, it had been a couple of weeks since Val and Thane had made the trip down into the village, the farm had kept them busy of late. There was a buzz around the town this morning, the villagers darted around the streets from door to door, occupied by their usual morning errands. Something more too, an air of anticipation, excitement, fear mostly. Today’s gathering had everybody on edge. Neighbours looked sideways at neighbours as they went about their morning chores, wondering which way they would cast their vote when the time came. Their sparrow had to slow to walking pace as they made their way towards to the centre of the village.

“Ho Thane! Val! What news from up your way?” called a man’s voice.

“Have the snows set in yet?” called another.

Thane! Val! Good to see you!” called a woman, Gaia, Val thought.

“Morning Thane! What way will you vote?”

Thane barely slowed to raise a hand in greeting to them, ‘later, later,’ he would signal. Thane Tel’al was late, and he hated being late. Val studied the goings on around him worriedly, the first signs of winter as plain to see here as they were in nature. All around him people were hard at work, lifting crate upon crate of grain and other crops, putting away the last vestiges of the harvest. Growing crops was a precarious business up here in the Trollheimen, a bountiful harvest was rare in the best of times. And with winter setting in so early, this year’s harvest had been a short one. If it wasn’t the cold that killed them, it would be the starvation. I’m becoming as gloomy as old Cass Holden. The thoughts of food made Val’s stomach rumble, realising he had forgotten to eat after his troubled morning. Smells wafting from cottage doors left hanging open only served to drive home that thought. There’ll be time enough to eat later. He saw men perched up on their roofs, repairing any damage and strengthening any weak spots. When the snows came in as they did, a weak roof could prove catastrophic.

Thane pulled up outside the church, where a throng of villagers were milling about in the little square, once of cobbled stone, but now overgrown with more grass than anything else.

“There you are Tel’al, and about bloody time too,” croaked a man’s voice before they even had a chance to dismount from the sparrow.

“Good morning to you too Cass,” replied Thane without turning to face him. Cass Holden, with his sun-drenched, wizened skin, resembled a gnarled, old root. As cantankerous as they came, if there was but a single reason to complain in the world, you’d likely hear it from Cass.

“And I suppose you’re looking to be off on this thrice fooled errand aren’t you Tel’al?” asked Cass, in that throaty way of his. It reminded Val of an old bullfrog. When Thane didn’t deign to respond, Cass continued on anyway. “Bloody fools the lot of you, you’ll all go get yourselves killed, or worse. Bring bloody bandits on top of us so you will! Or worse again! As for that boy of yours, what is he doi—”

“Look Cass,” Thane said, turning to face him. “We have a lot to prepare for the expedition. So if you’re done mithering, we’d like to get back to work.” Cass looked ready to spit venom at that, but he took a step back from Thane’s glare.

“Expedition,” Cass muttered, injecting the word with as much contempt as he could muster. “We’ll see about this, expedition.” With that, he stalked off into the gathering crowd. Val imagined that if he had been a cat, the hairs on the back of his neck would have been standing straight as arrows.

Val didn’t like the way Cass had said ‘boy,’ but he was used to it by now. His strange appearance had often drawn malicious comments from Cass, he’d heard himself called a lot worse before. Thankfully not many people listened to Cass and his vitriol, although in the beginning he wasn’t always by himself. Growing up, Val knew he made the adults uneasy being around him. Some wouldn’t even let their children play with him. Thane had always tried to convince Val that it was nothing to do with him, that hard lives made people uneasy about everything. Val knew that wasn’t the truth. Things were different now though, the village had accepted Val as one of their own. Although he suspected not everybody was still entirely comfortable being around him, just that some were better at hiding it than others. Cass doesn’t even try to hide it.

“Come on Val,” said Thane. “You get these crates loaded into the storehouse, then you can go see your friends.”

Val went around to the back of the sparrow, undoing the straps holding the crates to its sides. Their own harvest had been meagre enough, but with so many mouths to feed in the village, it was only right they gave what little they could. That was the way of it here, you took only what you needed and gave what you could. They wouldn’t have survived for so long otherwise. He watched Thane stalk off into the crowd gathering in the village square. I wonder what all the commotion is about. Val was eager to go find his friends, he hadn’t seen them in days, but he knew the sooner he got this done the sooner he’d be free. With a sigh, he hefted a crate of potatoes, and made his way to the big wooden storehouse at the edge of the village.

As he made his way through the village, potatoes in arms, Val was greeted here and there by those he knew. And everybody knew Val, it was a small town after all. But he never stopped long enough to converse, eager to get the job done as he was.

“Morning Val,” boomed the voice of Abel Járnsonn as he strode down the grassy street towards him. A towering hulk of a man, with his shaggy brown beard and big furry coat, he looked like one of the great bears found in the mountain forests. As fierce as he looked, Abel was usually a gentle man, slow to anger and quick to laughter. A big grin split Val’s face when he saw him.

“Good to see you boy, and better to see you’ve a full crate of spuds. We’ll need every last one before winter is out, you mark my words. Where’s your father? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Hello Abel, last I saw he was over by the church, went to see what all the fuss was about.”

Abel’s smiling eyes darkened at that, he even went as far as to spit on the ground. “Bloody thugs the lot of them. I say it’s past time we drove them out of here for good, see if we can’t!” Although he was usually slow to anger, Abel was a fearsome sight once riled.

“What is it Abel? Who are you talking about?”

“Skarn and his merry little band of miscreants, who else!” That drew another spit from Abel, aimed in the general direction of the village square.

“Came marching into the village not two hours past, demanding one eighth of the winter store, in exchange for his ‘protection.’” Another spit for good measure showed what Abel thought of that. “Faugh! Protection. A bloody threat is what it was! Though I don’t think Skarn would hurt anybody here, not badly at least, he was born and reared in this village after all.”

Val had never met Skarn before, but he’d heard all about him from the other villagers. Once a young villager like himself, he now led a band of outlaws, thugs most said, who roamed the wilds picking on the few scattered settlements within the region. A cruel, violent man if the stories were to be believed, he avoided the village usually, whether this was out of some twisted sentiment for his home, or something else, Val was not sure. The coming winter must be as bad as they all felt, if Skarn was reduced to preying on his own.

“After making his little declaration, he marched straight back out again,” Abel continued. “Lucky I didn’t chase him out the scoundrel! He left a box in the village square, saying he’d come back later to collect his eighth, or there’d be consequences. Oh I’m telling you boy, there will be consequences!” There was such fire in Abel’s eyes that Val nearly felt afraid for Skarn.

“Anyway, that’s what all the commotion’s about, whole village is like a bloody hornets nest that’s just been kicked! Today of all days too, what with the council gathering and all.”

With that, Abel just marched off. Val could still hear him muttering, ‘Oh there’ll be consequences,’ as he walked away.

Val stood there for a moment shaking his head. The world’s gone mad. The sudden pain in his arms from the weight they were carrying, snapped him back to reality. Come on, let’s get this blasted job done.