LEGEND OF THE OSTROVAKS
PART ONE
The Blood of Kings and Gods
PART ONE
The Blood of Kings and Gods
His eyes were spears of blue ice and armored iron grey, his hair a sustaining golden bronze, and his face was a chiseled mountain side that proudly endured a half century and a thousand battles of steel and blood. They said that the gods struggled within him for favor, and merely to gaze upon the Warrior Chief without self-knowledge might send weaker men into terror and women into destructive lust. The sagaris, a solid horseman battle-axe scarred violently from angry blows to slain enemies, rested only anxiously in his calloused grip. A spear strung along his back, accompanied by a mighty painted shield, towered above him at an angle towards the heavens with threatening intention. Beneath his tall muscular body trudged a pale horse, a no less scarred and menacing stallion, who now for the first time since being broken by the War Chief fought his rider, bucking and writhing with every step towards the ugly blue sea.
This was was Vyhoros, great patriarch of the race that would soon go by his name - the Vyhory, a liberator of alabaster skinned folk of Tregosklovony, Raki and Zdaniki Tribes. Greater still he was the ferocius conqeuror of the Erroz, Qissarim, and On-Oq defilers that dared settle and rule the domain claim now by the Vyhorid Dynasty. As if setting a flame, the war chief has burned and buried his enemies in an explosive circle that only ended at this sea. Foreign to Vyhoros, a fearsome master of horse and foot warfare, the great blue expanse shared no kindred with he or his folk who cared not what lay their until seeing how his enemies had slipped away outrageously on offensive floating vessels. Surely the Warrior King might leave this gargantuan task to one of his sons, Yvaylo? Surely not, though a great builder and administrator of the realm in his own right, and now with a legion of his own sons vying like vipers to climb the the ladder. Svyatogoros? His lust for blood rivaled only by his wrath against the Erozan Empire, its destruction he could not be wrested away even to embark on this great adventure. Nay this was Vyhoros the Great's task he believed within his heart of hearts, to lead alone and seize the legendary islands of an elusive enemy.
Vyhoros turned his steed one final time towards the land of his toddling empire, gazing upon the very sea of his blood: warrior guardians he would leave behind, and the simple peasant folk clamoring to claim that they saw the Great King and Chief conquer the malevolent sea of water and wind. The War Chief roared as only a dragon among men could, his mighty flame reaching out to ignite the people into mere candles of cheer and ovation. "I am Vyhoros, we are the Vyhory, this is ours!" the King declared with his battle-axe pointed at all of the land as far as the eye could see. He turned his horse to the side, the stallion still putting up a hearty resistance, "And that monstrosity of salt and gust will be ours!" he exclaimed with the axe now aimed squarely at the sea. His people cheered once more, rejoicing the inevitability of the King's invincible ascension, and Vyhoros thus boarded a war vessel - the first of its kind to he and his people.
The galley was wide and heavy, its craftsmanship uncertain and amateur, lacking sails or proper steering, it was as if he and his army intended to sail using the vessels of his legend and bravery alone.
Three days of hard rowing followed, certain of their task and committed to mastering the building storm over head and grappling waves under foot with the triumph of brutish strength. The sun succumbed to total darkness on the third night, and with it their fiery spirit. Vyhoros saw this through the terrible wind that brought with it sprays of salty sea, bullish waves that rammed the weakened hull, and rain that demanded to meet with these dry men meet and become as wet as they.
Vyhoros dawned his battle armor and assembled his men upon the deck of his capital ship, if it could be called such, and ordered the drums of war to begin thumping against the preeminent booms of thunder that reigned the eve. Through the airborne streams of water only one thing was clear now, the gods were challenging him, worse an impudent woman goddess that had never shown herself to Vyhoros, master of horse and foot. She was Vodinchka, mischievous mistress of the waters deep, and all of this was her mating dance the men reckoned. As gods commanded armies in the heavens, men hordes upon land, Vodinchka ruled legions of the dead in the deep dark sea. "I AM VYHOROS!" the War Chief cried out, "WHO ARE YOU WHO DOES NOT KNEEL BEFORE MY MIGHT?". The winds sharpened in the men's ears then, shrieking her name as the hulls of the ships began to crack. "HOLD FAST! HOLD FAST! HOOOOLLLLLLLLD!" Vyhoros ordered before being hurled himself into the sea, the cumbersome armor and weapons of a warrior monarch now anchoring him deeper and deeper despite an angry struggle.
A supernatural force seemed to bring him down now, and the stinging salt an dark of depth gave way to a lighter dreamlike hue at the sea's floor. Fish of every imaginable color commuted along pearl strewn roads, shining and glimmering unlike the dull roads of Tibur he had once seen a boy. These were not civilized Tiburans however, for in every corner of his eyes he could see one fish consume another and the aesthetic decay of rock like structures. Never could he imagine that things so beautiful could commit such barbarous violence. A still yet enchanting example of death and delicacy appeared then, a vigorous she-shark, her eyes blue as he, her skin white as his, and the many scars strewn across her flesh no less defining than his. She circled him devilishly, eyeing every inch of his human figure with hungry delight. "Who am I? . ." Vyhoros heard within his ears, the shark's mouth only glowering with a hundred sharp afflicting daggers of teeth. "Kneel before me, King Vyhoros of Horse and Feet, for I am Vodinchka and underneath is where I reign!". The she-shark bolted at Vyhoros then, clamping her teeth down like a trap in front of his face, slicing the tip of his nose open to make a bloody stream.
Creatures of smaller size now tasted his blood, the blood of the first Vyhory, and the essence of a king. Like rats they clamored to get a taste of it, lashing out at others of their own kind even to bite at the source, but the she-shark struck again - taking tens of them out with a single encompassing bite. "I am not afraid of you Vodinchka, nor your she-shark. I the King of Horse and Foot piss in your sea and call it my own!" Vyhoros protested. Sea eels of blood curdling dark and green flesh then cuffed his wrists and ankles, easily quelling his spirited fight. The she-shark reeled round again, this time taking a decisive bite from his human flesh. His neck spurted a deep dark red, his life escaping him in senseless struggle, and the last thing he thought he would see were the blinding crimson clouds of his own blood until total numbing darkness prevailed.
On the other side there she was, Vodinchka in human like form, still enchanting in a violent way like the she-shark was. Her lips were red with his blood and her smile showed menacing like the creature's teeth. The goddess checked his bindings, in this realm simple silver chains, and kissed his forehead as if familiar. "I shall offer you a bargain, Great King of Horse and Foot, for you have something I desire and I now possess your life." Vodinchka whispered in his ear ponderously. "Your sons are wise and brave, we both know this, yet they like you will never cross my domain to conquer and thrive, we both know this". Vyhoros considered his sons then, Yvaylo the true architect of the civilization to come, and Svyatogoros the true heir of his father's martial prowess. "I know this, Vodinchka" he admitted reluctantly, "What bargain can you offer me for my life and this obstacle?"
"A son, my son, our son . . truly never your son I must admit," Vodinchka mused, "We will couple here in my dimension and you will bring my son back with you to the soil, raising it as your own. He will never reign over your hard fought lands, I assure you of that much, for those belong to the children of soil. Our son will master the battleship and sea-axe and take in your name the islands and seas of your enemies so totally that all will think it was you, the Great Warrior King. Covet his spoils not, that much you must advise your land born sons, for he will belong to my soul as much as they belong to yours."
"As one Kingdom this realm will hold for fifty generations, no more and no less, but when the fiftieth son of our son is born I shall return with my sons of another King not yet born to reign an Empire of which you cannot possibly imagine. Is this fair, King of Horse and Foot, or shall I claim your legend sunk and never found again at sea? Your sons will divide what you have united within years, we both know this?"
"I know this, Vodinchka" he confirmed, finding his chains loosened enough for him to rise in body and flesh so he might take the goddess as his mate and merge in the passions of lust and power. They exercised dominance over each other in rolling waves, moaning and dripping with salty sweat until the Great King spilled his seed. He looked up towards the heavens and the lands he had come from in pure elation, lost in this moment of bliss, but suddenly his eyes stung and were filled with darkness. Again he was wet and struggling with one arm with kicking legs back up towards the surface, he soon saw the sun and a ship that could only be his own overhead and he pulled and fought his way to them. "OUR KING, OUR KIIIING" a shield bearing member of his own guard called out while another threw down a rope. Vyhoros reached out with one hand instinctively, hoping to holster his battle-axe so he might use the other to pull himself up. Instead he then felt and heard a writhing child, wrapped in the weeds of the sea, and struggling to take his first breath of air.