Dawn of the Nephilim

46. With the Skars part I

I shouldn't have told them. For the umpteenth time that day Ronan scolded himself that he had told them. Still, what else could I have done. I could never lie to them. Mum smells a lie before you speak it, she always has. He hadn't managed it. He couldn't tell his parents a lie. Not one of this magnitude at least. He had explained to them what was going on, all of it. Incredible enough, they had believed him. He showed them the rose, told about his dreams. His mother had nearly fainted, and she seemed very close to tears. His father instantly stated he would join Ronan on whatever journey, and get him back safe no matter what. It didn't take Ronan long to convince him otherwise. After he had told them about the possible danger for the village, and remembered them that he would have several skaran Ti'anra with him including Windar, his father had seen sense. Mum and Aram need his protection more than I do. He may not be a skaran Ti'anra. But he definitely can fight.

Maybe he shouldn't have told them. But he was incredibly relieved that he had. At least his family knew the truth, even though his parents would be worried sick. He wondered what they would tell Aram. They would find something, they always did. Disliking the numbing sameness of the circles he ran inside of his skull, he looked up around him. Across the open waters of Snake lake he could clearly see the contours of their destination. Snake island, the favorite training ground of the skars. Not for the first time he wondered about the lack of imagination people seemed to have had at the time they dished out names for the land and its contours. Still, it is practical in a sense. Oh, a lake with snakes? Snake lake. Does it have an island in the middle? Snake island. You knew everything you needed to know just by hearing the name. Yes, there was some sense in it.

In his ears he could hear the annoying, unnaturally loud wingbeat of some sort of insect across the water. How big is this insect? Not even a cricket at the top of his mating song makes that much sound. Confused he looked about him over the open stretch of water in front of him. When he caught sight of the perpetrator he was completely stunned. It was a mere dragonfly, probably about a hundred feet away. He shouldn't be able to hear it at that distance, let alone that loud. Is my hearing getting stronger as well? If I hear insects this loud, I'll never sleep again. Miskito's will bellow and yammer like mad dogs. A most depressing thought. There were too many scary things happening to his body at the moment. It felt like puberty all over again, but worse.

A surprised shout emanated from one of the many swamp-skimmers cleaving the water near the one he was in. He looked up to see Ulf staring at his uplifted paddle. A snake that had bitten unto it dangled from the end. Yep, there surely is sense in the name. Shaking his head, Ulf flung the snake off the paddle. It flew away in a perfect arc to land headfirst into the water. "What did you do that for Ulf?" The voice of Utgard bellowed across the water somewhere from the swamp-skimmers behind him. "That one will surely come looking for you tonight. I hope for your sake it mistakes the paddle for your toes again then." Sporadic laughter ensued. Ronan could hear the pleasant laugh of Ayra rising above the others. Ulf discarded the provocation with a dismissive hand gesture, and continued paddling perhaps a little more ferocious than before. "He should treat the creatures of the swamp with more respect" Agnar, the one paddling their canoe, voiced indignantly. Ronan smiled. Some people could always be relied upon to make certain comments in certain situations.

The pleasant distraction halted Ronan's further bemusements, and before he knew it, the canoe scraped the sandy shore of the island. It was rather large and flat, easily over a thousand feet across in both directions. Copses of trees dotted its surface seemingly at random, but a large area in its center was completely clear of vegetation, revealing the rough and naked sand that had built up the island in countless floods and sedimentation events. Ronan thought the island's center very much like an arena, making it the ideal training ground for those evading inquisitive eyes. He had been told that in the deep recesses of history, criminals, such as they were, would be left behind on this island. They were given the choice of starving, or trying their luck with the snakes. Even as he jumped out of the swamp-skimmer, a shiver ran down his spine. While the various men and women that made up the skars disembarked, Olaf walked to the center of the island. The figure of Eloï'inda emerged from behind one of the bushes at the edge of the island. Behind him Ronan heard an approving whistle, followed by a muffled stump and an "Ohw." He didn't turn around but Olaf spun as if stung, his face flushing red with rage and with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Ronan thought he discerned some streaks of red flashing through his dark irises as well.

"Treat this woman with respect. One more disgrace like that and I will have the perpetrator punished. Understood?" "Yes Olaf" a chorus of voices responded. So that's how things go when they are outside of the village. Satisfied, Olaf turned back to Eloï'inda. Meanwhile, Windar had joined the woman. "Messenger, Windar. It is good to see you here. I have brought the skaran Ti'anra, and would want them to hear from your mouths the news you brought me earlier." Eloï'inda acknowledged his request with a friendly nod. Satisfied, Olaf addressed the skars again. "Alright skars, step to. Form a half-circle in the center of the island and pay close attention to what these people have to say, for it involves the wellbeing of our families and homes."

His words had the desired effect, and were followed by a solemn silence. The skars moved quickly and effectively, without so much as a whisper. Ronan too followed the order and seated himself near the middle of the half circle. Olaf joined his brothers and sisters, and Windar and Eloï'inda were the only ones left standing, facing over two hundred fighters. Windar cast a questioning glance at Eloï'inda, and she, blinking once, replied with a nod. He clasped his hands behind his back, his face turning to stone. Surprised, Ronan saw Windar assume an air of command that easily rivaled that of Olaf. Ronan felt his attention irresistibly drawn towards him. The man would not, could not be ignored.