Siritahk

by Russ Whetham

Overview

In a time of five great races, humankind is having trouble peacefully coexisting with the lizard people that live among them. As a result, the Siritahk have learned to be wary and fearful of humans even as an evil dwarf seeks the downfall of all races. After stealing the crown of power from a dwarven god and imprisoning him, Galiock is happily creating havoc and war across the land.

Aluk, a Siritahk lizard, is immersed in a brave battle with humans when he suddenly stumbles upon his most bitter enemy lying motionless in the grass. Hours later, after the injured human awakens, Aluk learns he is Tolnac, a member of the glacier people. After he decides to help Tol rather than kill him, the two embark on a journey to find water and heal the human's wounds. But it is not long before Aluk discovers that Tol is destined to fulfill a chosen prophesy by uniting the races and overthrowing Galiock and he is the one who must help him do it.

In this fantasy adventure, two creatures from vastly different races must band together in order to defeat a mighty dwarf determined to destroy the only world they have ever known.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781475982138
Publisher:	iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date:	03/25/2013
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
File size:	361 KB

Read an Excerpt

SIRITAHK

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By Russ Whetham

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2013 Russ Whetham
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-8212-1

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Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Aluk paused. Spinning slowly on the horizon, several small specks dipped and wheeled. He thought it was likely that they were carrion eaters. He spurred his beast on, waiting for darkness.

To others of his kind, Aluk was not unhandsome. His shimmering silver green skin rippled over hard muscle and sinew. He stood tall for his race, somewhat over four feet tall. His strong four fingered hands held the guide straps of his mount, also reptilian, loosely, with a confidence born from long hours in the saddle. He was nomadic, as were all of his people, and this caused problems.

Of all people, Humankind especially had never been able to adjust to the idea that there could be a nation of walking, talking, lizard people. As a child, he had looked out fearfully over the buttes and forests that were his home as stories were told of the hordes of Humans that massacred entire villages of Siritahk because Humans labeled them "monsters".

Normally peaceful and friendly to everyone they met; the Siritahk had learned to be wary and just a little fearful of Humans. It was fortunate, Aluk mused, that the Siritahk had very little capacity for hatred, or Human kind might find itself being wiped off the face of the earth by a ruthless and cunning reptilian enemy.

There had been skirmishes, but because of the Siritahk seldom traveled in large groups the fighting was usually one sided. He remembered one such fight, when he was younger, that had exposed him to the brutal truth about fighting, war, and the bitter loss they can cause. It had also changed the course of his life.

As Aluk moved his beast through the late afternoon heat, he let the beast find its own way, for it would naturally tend to stay out of sight, allowing his mind to wander back in time.

The day had dawned hot, promising to be unseasonably warm. The old brood mother had grunted her approval, for it boded well to start their journey to the gathering under clear skies. It was understood by all the rain would slow them down, and would weaken them all by forcing them to march in a soupy sea of slick mud. After taking a morning meal, the women had struck the tents, buried the fire pits, and broken camp. Aided by the children and such help as the hunters could spare, the village was soon under way. Aluk had been a boy, on the verge of manhood, and had been enlisted to help bear burdens. The use of daft beasts had not spread widely yet, and at that time only the Sirrim had had the luxury of a mount.

They marched in file, across the dusty, arid plain, only about a half mile from a swampy, marsh-like river that meandered torpidly across the flat land of the great prairie. Siritahk, being a cold blooded, reptilian race, should have, by all logic, preferred the warmth of the sunny plains as did their lesser relatives, the snakes, lizards, and dragons, but for some reason, by some quirk of nature, they had an attraction to the one thing they needed to avoid; COLD.

Such had been the contrast between the harsh, dusty path of the village traveled and the lush water course, that Aluk had found himself drawn to the cat tail lined river course almost hypnotically. Several times he had been scolded by the brood mother for approaching the shade of the overhanging trees, until finally his real mother had moved him to the other side of the group, in hopes that temptation would be overcome by distance. As cool as the shade looked to the entire village, they were highly distrustful of water, and drowning was high on the list of horrors of any Siritahk, especially parents.

That night, when the rearguard scouts caught up with the village, they reported seeing dust in the distance, and that it had been trailing them all day. The headman was deeply disturbed by this, and for good reason. Humans had mounts and were a very real threat in those days, and it was not unknown for an entire village to be butchered for skins and trophies. The Siritahk could travel quickly and without a trace in small groups, but it was impossible to hide the passage of an entire village on the move. A meeting was called for all of the hunters. They began to make plans for the defense of the village.

When darkness fell, they sent the brood mother, women, and the young children ahead, while the headman and those hunters selected had stayed behind to set a trap. They covered the trail of the retreating village, and laid a false trail leading towards the swamp, in hopes that it would draw their pursuers towards the tall grass that grew near the water course.

The Siritahk possess an inherent, chameleon-like ability to blend with their surroundings, and against the backdrop of dense foliage of the swampy river, cover was easy to find. Aluk had still been a boy, but at his father's urging, the headman had declared that this would be his manhood test. To be blooded in combat against Humans. Aluk remembered how proud he had been to be chosen in the defense of his people, but as he waited in the shadows, he also remembered how scared and alone he had felt. He had checked his stone knife, and his bright, glittering steel tipped spear, and had settled down to wait.

It wasn't long before he saw furtive shadows creeping along the trail that they had laid, and at his first glimpse, an involuntary gasp had escaped his lips. They were HUGE! Never in his life had he seen someone this tall, and this first sight of his enemy filled him with icy dread. He gripped his spear more tightly, and waited for the signal to attack.

Then, the signal was given! Aluk leaped to his feet, and drove the head of his spear deep into the belly of a Human who had stood not three feet from where he was hidden. As he jerked the spear free from the Human, realized that the Human still had no idea of what or who had killed him. He clumsily blocked a sword thrust at him by another Human, and drove his spear between the ribs of his attacker, but as the man fell, the spear lodged between his ribs and the weapon was jerked from Aluk's hands, leaving him with only his stone knife to fight with. Then, it was over.

Attacking out of the ambush, the fifteen hunters had quickly killed or captured the entire band of forty Humans who had been trailing them, and none of his people had even been hurt! It was truly a great victory.

Aluk then had realized that these were men who dealt in hides of all kinds, and seeing a Siritahk skin being used as clothing made him sick.

Of the Humans who had been captured, only two had been allowed to go free, alone and weaponless, as a warning to Humankind that the Siritahk were growing tired of being hunted.

They had caught up with the rest of the village quickly, and proceed south, to the gather. When they were only a day's journey from the gathering a horde of vengeful cavalry swept in upon them from the dusty plains. Such had been the care and stealth of the Humans, that they had had no warning of danger. Aluk thought back sadly, thinking of how many good men had fallen in that first, dreadful charge.

The Siritahk had been hampered by their own women and children, unable to put up any organized resistance, for each man protected his own women, his own family. The second charge decimated them. Wheeling about on the dusty plains, the Humans were just in time to see the Siritahk melt into the trees and tall grass that edged the swampy river. The Humans despite their furious charge soon found themselves hacking at vines and bushes, all sign of the Siritahk vanishing a few yards from the dry, open plain.

Aluk's mind was distracted momentarily as he caught the slightest scent on the evening breeze, but it was too faint to identify. His eyes were never still, searching for any sign of danger or threat. Even day dreaming, Aluk was aware of his surroundings as most Siritahk were when they hunted ekapo. He could detect no dangers, and his mind slipped back in time once more.

After they had entered the swamp, the few tattered survivors had continued south, towards the gathering and the help that they so desperately needed. Of the Siritahk who had entered the swamp, only Aluk and his father had escaped injury. Aluk's father, the new headman, tried to help the more seriously injured, could not do enough. The old headman had fallen, transfixed by a lance, in the first charge, and since then, the survivors had turned instinctively to him, the strongest in the group.

The Siritahk are not a race that can dwell indefinitely in damp and watery conditions, being much more adapted to dryer, more arid climes, and disease soon set in. The wounded and old died first, their festering wounds poisoning their bloodstreams, and the hostile water life killing the slow or weak. Of the pitiful handful that had entered, only Aluk and his father had made it through the swamp, but they too, developed fever.

Delirious and wandering, the two were easy prey for the marauding beasts and dragons that relish the flesh of those who go on two legs. Aluk had to admit to himself that he was very lucky. A pair of hunting quadropeds, stalking them for perhaps days, had attacked them as they were about to cross a stream that fed into the river they still followed. The first beast had struck his father, being attracted to the largest target, knocking Aluk into the stream, which carried him out into the river. He floated downstream to safety with his father's dying screams in his ears. He dimly remembered being washed up onto a gravel bar, which had jutted far into the stream, which at the point had been shallow and fast. There, he had been rescued by Shalmar, who-had-been-Sirrim.

Aluk did not question in his mind why he always thought of dear old Shalmar as he who had been Sirrim. It was a ritual form of respect, between teacher and student, father and son. In Aluk's highly disciplined mind, he saw his teacher as Shalmar, who-had-been-Sirrim.

After hearing Aluk's tale, Shalmar had taken Aluk as his student, to be taught to be a Sirrim.

Aluk's mind drifted forward in time. Dusk was approaching, and he was nearing the place where he has seen the carrion eaters circling. As he picked his way through the gathering gloom, he wondered what the winged scavengers had found. With metal and certain other supplies as hard to get as they were for him, he found that more often than not, they left the real treasure lying.

The tall sage made his progress slow, for neither he nor his mount could scent the now cooling night air over the strong scent of the bruised leaves and crushed plants that were his mounts only sign of passage. Besides, he was in no hurry. He would let any predator finish its' meal before he disturbed it.

When he knew he neared the spot, he circle in, looking for any sign of predators. He was not particularly afraid of them, for his two legged mount was formidable indeed, and there were few beasts of his ferocity in the world. Satisfied that there were none nearby, he lightly tethered his mount to a tree sized sage, and slowly made his way up the hill, placing his feet with utmost care. He stopped at the crest and peered through the shrubbery, careful not to outline himself against the star filled sky.

Below him lay a man. Sprawled across him and around him in gory heaps, were perhaps a dozen long limbed, emaciated, lightly furred creatures. Aluk's eyes widened and beneath his armor his skin reflexively turned pale green, indicating his surprise and fear. He was in more danger than he had realized. Below him, on the bloody grass lay the Siritahk's most bitter enemy.

Stealthy cannibals of the wilderness, more vicious and cunning than any other creature known to the ancient and lore rich Siritahk, these creatures were Shkah.

CHAPTER 2

Aluk's skin crawled at the mere thought of the name. Vile, crude, ill tempered, but very tenacious and efficient killers, these vermin ate any flesh they could find, be it freshly killed or full of maggots. When food was short, so stories told, they even ate their own sick and crippled. Aluk found this easy to believe.

Aluk lay motionless through the night, watching for movement, alert to every sound. He knew now why the scent had triggered him out of his reverie, but it had been so elusive that the trace whiff had only alerted his, not warned him away.

Flight never occurred to him. If there were any Shkah nearby, his movement might alert them, and even his own mount would not have a chance against a swarming horde of Shkah. Even if he made good an escape, it would avail him little, for the Shkah could follow his scent and trail for weeks, and eventually they would catch him.

As Aluk lay waiting, tensely, his muscles began to ache. He was clenched into a tight, nerve wracked knot, and he was beginning to cramp. Slowly, he willed himself to relax. His eyes, nose, ears continued to search the night but his mind turned inward, taking control of his body, as his teacher had taught him to do. He began to shut the feeling off in his body, bit by bit, until at last his body went to 'sleep'. In assuming this trance, Aluk had achieved a state where he could remain motionless for hours, even days if he must, but allowing him to respond instantly at full abilities if need be.

Such was the way of the Sirrim. Aluk considered himself hunted.

Aluk searched the night around him. He heard a mole burrowing under him in its' never ending quest for food. He heard the whisper of an owl's wings as it sailed overhead, looking for its evening meal. Scavengers, drawn by the smell of old blood, approached the area, but sensing something unseen nearby, left again, uncomfortable. The night wore on.

As dawn approached, Aluk began to shift himself back down the hill, towards his mount. The dragon, smelling Aluk's familiar scent, snorted softly and flexed its great claws, digging deep furrows in the ground. It too, smelled Shkah. Aluk climbed into the saddle and drew his lance from the pommel loop that held it. He then urged his beast around the rise, peering into the underbrush as he went.

As he came into the sight of the carnage, his nerves screamed at him to retreat, to fade back into the brush and never look back. Some deep instinct told him that he was walking upon a path that would cast him into a turbulent whirlpool of events that would sweep him away, leaving him at the mercy of fate. But something else drew him on, urging him to see the Human that had single handedly slain so many Shkah in single combat. As a warrior, Aluk had to see such a great fighter, if only to acknowledge his passing from the world.

Just then, he heard a muffled moan, and clapped his helmet down over his head, concealing his scaly green skin.

"Hyarbun shan jahgohrna?" asked the man, sitting up and looking bleary eyed at the imposing figure that loomed up out of the morning mists, like a spectra of doom.

"Speak common tongue, stranger. I do not know your language. Are you hurt badly?" Asked Aluk, in a raspy, rumbling voice.

The Human sat for a moment, gathering his wits, and then he said, "Where am I? Are you a servant of Lyulagar, the death God?"

Aluk regarded him. Long blonde hair, matted with mud, grass and clotted blood. Reddish brown hair grew from his face, not quite covering a lean, square jawed face. Piercing, ice blue eyes peered up at him from under snowy white brows, creased from the intensity that radiated from the man like heat from a fire. Not the heat of a camp fire, but the heat from the fire at the heart of a glacier. The eyes of a warrior.

His armor, however, was another story. It was in sad shape. It was rusted where it had not been oiled properly, and was much dented and scarred. In some places it was cut completely through. His boots were ragged pieces of leather tied to his feet. Beside him lay a broken sword, the hilt near his hand, and the blade, notched and chipped, lying half hidden in the grass some ways away. As Aluk scanned the surrounding area, he saw a discarded quiver lying in the grass, next to the inert body of a Shkah. The bow was some ways off, lying like a broken toy, the bowstring snapped. His mount, if ever he had one, was nowhere in evidence. If Aluk had not seen the man's eyes, he would have thought him no threat. But even now, weakened as he was by loss of blood, Aluk was wary of this Human.

"Who are you?" Aluk rasped.

The man started, seeing Aluk as he really was for perhaps the first time. "I am a stranger in this land. While I traveled, making my way here, I was waylaid by those you see around you." The Human shoved a stiffened body off of him and climbed to his feet, a low groan escaping from his lips. Despite an obvious loss of blood, Aluk saw with a practiced eye that this Human had a certain fluid grace movement that spoke of power and speed. Aluk found himself strangely relieved to see that this Human had no serious wounds, and realized that he had been worried and had not even known it.

"Three days ago I lost my throlnar to these vermin. Some I slew with arrows. I was sorely pressed, and withdrew to this place. Time and distance helped me to even the odds to the point that I felt a fight was reasonable. You can see the extent of my wrath. If you be linked with these foul vermin then beware."
(Continues...)

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Excerpted from SIRITAHK by Russ Whetham. Copyright © 2013 by Russ Whetham. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc..
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