The Last Alliance of the Woods

Prologue

In the waters that once fell softly upon the shore but now were raging terribly against the land, a man floated, lifeless to the world around him, covered in swirling waters that fell with chopping waves, as savage as the skies of a hurricane.

One might think that he was dead, but life was stirring inside. A strong will to live another day was striving in the almost lifeless body. A flicker of life stirred and he rose his head slightly before it was submerged again in a blast of water.

A dot on the stormy waters was coming closer, nearing to the near-dead man floating limply on the waves. As it neared, it was evidently a boat that was stranded in the waters before docking land. Its oars struck the waters forcefully, making way for the boat to move.

Lifting one hand over the side, the man on the boat hauled the floating body into the boat. It was surprisingly light, its weight was almost the one of a large animal. With the unconscious man on the boat, he began to massage the body, getting his blood pumping.

After what seemed like ages, the man coughed, spluttering out water on the boat. With all the water gone, he finally began to breathe properly, gulping down air like he just ran miles. Raising his head, he finally noticed his surroundings and lurched backwards on another wave, almost toppling into the water again.

"Where did you come from and what are you doing out here?" his rescuer first asked the bewildered man, who looked startled until confusion hit him.

"Where are we?" Uneasiness began to creep into his voice as he realized that he was not where he thought he was before.

"I found you floating in the water like a dead man after trying to dock in and getting hit by the storm," the man replied calmly, taking the oars his hand and rowing towards the shore against the bitter waves. The nearly drowned man's eyes widened as he took in the news, fear beginning to creep in his black eyes. "But first, answer my question. Where do you come from and what were you doing out here?" he repeated his question again, still calm despite the disaster that had fallen on them.

"I am Telehica. I come from the Yukon," the man answered, eyes still wild with terror. "I don't know what happened... but who are you?"

"I came from Russia." A faraway look crept into his eyes as his tongue twisted into a thick accent. "I was trying to escape from the tsunami that struck after the bombs, but it turns out that it's the same here, in the Alaskan Gulf." His voice turned bitter as he looked around the waters.

"How far are we from land?"

Squinting, the man looked into the distance where a foggy white had appeared through the blue. "Not too far, we should be able to get there by nightfall if this blasted storm doesn't take us off course."

Telehica nodded, looking wistful as memories leaked into his brain. A sudden realization dawned upon him. "Wait, you never told me your name."

Besides driving the oars harder, the man did not respond. Instead, he just turned his back to the other and looked harder into the distance. The white had become close enough to decipher it as land.

But before they could veer into it and dock, a gale sprang up and cut the boat off course into a stone cliff that tower over them. Almost toppling over, they steadied the boat, swerving it back to the sandy shore that awaited them. As if the storm was sorry for them and wanted to get them back on land, a western wind sprang up, blowing them onto the shore.

But the waters were not so quick to apologize. Just when they had touched the bank, a large wave came up and swept the boat off the land.

"Swim!" the man shouted, his voice getting swept away but still able to hear against the roaring tempest that was beginning to rise around them.

Telehica jumped in, swimming with powerful strokes with water behind him, pushing them closer to the land. Gasping, he climbed on the sand, collapsing limply and hugging the ground as if he would never leave it again.

But the Russian was not so lucky. When he jumped, the waves had pulled him under. Resurfacing and coughing, he finally caught a wave that appealed to his favor. It alone out of all the others favored him and brought him to the shore mercifully.

But it was already too late for the man; his end had come. Raising his head limply, he looked at his partner who was sprawled weakly on the ground, drawing breaths of air in gasps. When Telehica had finally caught his breath, he looked over to the dying man. With the water as cold as this, his body would freeze in the weather. Even though Telehica's heart ached with pity for his rescuer, he couldn't do anything for him. Everything was too late.

"Listen," the Russian rasped, his scratching voice scraped the thin air as it reached his ears. "Go north... back to Yukon... to the Last Alliance..." He paused, drawing a shuddering breath before continuing. "Tell them... that Fyodor Feofan Kazimir sent you..." The name of the man startled Telehica. Somehow, the name suits him in an odd fashion. "Tell them that... the destroyer of life is also the keeper... Tell them that... she will destroy us... but she will save us..." Fyodor paused again, coughing up water before continuing. "Go." His last word was a whisper before his eyes closed and his breaths became slower and slower, stopping at nothing.

Telehica stared, looking at the dead Russian before hauling his body over to the waves. They can have him. As soon as the body hit the waves, waters greedily took it, letting it sink before thundering over it with a crashing wave. But Fyodor's words echoed deep within his thoughts.

Without thought of anything in mind, Telehica ran.