THE SWORD OF DESTINY

The Drak'ar Tribe

The Drak’ar Tribe

“Quite a victory you had there Ryland Drakaraeth – It was a breathtaking scene seeing you conquer a small village.” One particularly large man with a string of bones around his neck chuckled sarcastically. Sitting on both his laps were two women, dressed in skimpy buckskins. Their bountiful figures were an exultant scene to the eyes, owing to their indigenous heritage from the Western itinerant tribes. Fitting perfectly into the arms of the man, the women seemed contented and happy as they plaited his long beard, they were his wives.

“Give the kid some credit; he single-handedly killed a dozen foreign soldiers.” Another reproached with a stern face. He was slightly thinner than the first man was but much taller. He was similarly long bearded and haired, a character noticeably shared by almost everyone around the bonfire. He was currently sharpening the sharp edges of his long spear.

The first man frowned at him with a dubious expression, clearly confused by his stand.

“…. a dozen drunk men.” The thin tall man added after a short while, resulting to a sudden rupture of laughter from the men present.

“This is not just a small village…idiots” a young man stepped forward and shouted courageously. “This is the first settling of the Iron Kingdom and I, Ryland Drakaraeth made history conquering it first to give glory to our Khan, Rolo Vornak.”

From just a glance, Ryland was clearly way smaller and outranked by the men sitting around the fire – not mentioning the apparent age-gap. He either took no notice of that fact, or was too arrogant to acknowledge their superiority. Either way, he was not too frightened to call them idiots to their faces. He was the rider of the great white stallion, the young fighter who led the attack on the small village.

“You call us idiots?” the bulky man with two women on his laps growled angrily, taking offence at the jab thrown at him. “We were fighting long before your father forcefully planted his seed into a desert w***e…”

“Don’t you dare call my….” Ryland snarled before the thin tall man snappily interjected

“Show some damn respect while you address a Valkyry”

“Respect goes both ways. I won’t respect a Valkyry who calls my mother a slut” Ryland spoke back

“You called him an i***t first”

“Yes I did, he’s an i***t” Ryland rolled his eyes

“Oh yes, I now remember clearly, your mother was a slut… she really screamed when I f****d her” the bulky man with a neck string of bones laughed aggravatingly

Hissing in anger, Ryland Drakaraeth unsheathed his sword and took a fighting stance. His opponent followed suit as he roughly pushed his wives from his laps, then proceeded to pick his monstrous axe from the ground. His complete form was now illuminated in the light of the flames, and it was colossal. The man was a huge chunk of muscles, his physique enough to frighten any other typical man to death. To challenge a giant like that, one could only say that Ryland was both audacious and courageous.

A wave of jeers and cheers surged, in anticipation of a great fight that would probably ensue – or a great defeat. The excitement gave birth to an unspoken bloodthirst and within a few seconds, a clearing was made for the duo.

“Enough! Skarnok son of Zethra” a loud deep and authoritative voice resounded. It prompted a sudden wave of silence from the crowd of spectators. The giant man with a neck chain of bones, Skarnok son of Zethra, scoffed in discontentment but still headed to the words. Ryland Drakaraeth similarly sheathed back his sword and took a few steps back. He tauntingly smirked at Skarnok whilst doing so.

“Khan” he said respectfully

“Ryland’s right,” the designated Khan said. He stood up from his seat then casually circled the bonfire with small-calculated steps. He walked with the grace of a proud lion, every move radiating authority and dominance. His brown hair was unusually long and thick, signifying years of victorious battles. His beard, knotted and entwined in a dexterous way, resembled a sword as it rested on his muscular powerful torso. From the gazes he garnered, he was formidable and respected, even by the giant Skarnok son of Zethra, the first Valkyry.

“My wives could have taken the village with their eyes closed” Skarnok rumbled sullenly

“That they could have, no doubts,” the Khan laughed amused. His face turned stern in a few seconds

“But this is not just a small village, blood of my blood. This is one of the rich settlements in the Iron Kingdom. You have seen the lands, it is fertile enough for pasture and food, cattle to last us generations, gold and silver to give us wealth for eternity, women to take as wives, young men to enslave.”

“I made a promise to you when I became Khan of the Drak’ar tribe; lead you as far as East goes, to a land where our tribe would fulfil the prophesied prominence. We will finally witness prosperity and growth; the Drak’ar tribe will be renown across the world. With the three Valkyrys beside me, we will conquer the Iron Kingdom and make it ours…”

Galvanized loud cheers and ululations resounded

“We will kill the Iron men in their iron suits, dye the earth red with their blood…,” he continued

The men present shouted in rejuvenated enthusiasm

“Skarnok son of Zethra will kill the iron generals and wear their bones as ornaments,” Khan Rolo roared

The first Valkyry stood up and thumped his chest with a loud grunt

“Velara the merciless will pierce the iron generals and make a sieve out of them,” he continued

The second Valkyry, the thin tall man with a spear, nodded his head with a smirk

“Drusilla, the bringer of terror, will make the iron generals s**t themselves to death” he laughed but something about the way he said it signified that he really meant the praise.

The third Valkyry, a man with the same physique as Ryland, but with a human skull strung to his face, grunted then went back to petting an unusually overgrown lizard on his shoulder.

“And I, Khan Rolo Vornak will kill the Iron King and rename this Kingdom to Drak’ar”

Further cheers, roars and screams filled the air, noise that could be heard for miles. It went on for a while until it gradually died down.

The Drak’ar warriors feasted and drunk to stupor the rest of the night. And man, they drank like beasts, surpassing average human standards. Like the savages that they were, they abode by the saying “A celebration is not a celebration if blood doesn’t flow”, as such, they killed a man then celebrated and performed rituals to honor their ancestors. When the morning dawned, the leaders convened a meeting.

“When will the rest of our horde arrive?” the Khan asked

“In seven days” Velara answered

“Enough time for the kingdom to gather enough men to fight us off” Khan Rolo stroked his beard thoughtfully

“So we press our advantage, continue hitting them while they are confused and disorganized.” Ryland Drakaraeth voiced his thoughts.

The first Valkyry rolled his eyes at him then scoffed “We only have a two thousand men; we should wait for the rest of our horde to arrive, then attack the kingdom with our full force.”

“Again, you are underestimating the Iron Kingdom. If we wait, we will be giving the Iron Kingdom time to gather a strong army, enough to give us a challenge in the battlefield. We are not just attacking hill and desert tribes…this is a damn Kingdom.” Ryland retorted

“Either way we will still defeat them; we’ve never lost a battle before…”

“That’s not smart” Ryland sighed

“Are you calling me an i***t? Again?” Skarnok growled, his grip tightening on the handle of his axe.

“On the contrary, it was quite smart of you to have surmised that yourself” Ryland smirked, his form bashfully hiding behind two rows of other warriors. He seemed confident enough that the giant Skarnok would not dare attack him for voicing his opinion, or if he did, he would have to get past the rows of men sitting in front of him.

“Son of a…” Skarnok cursed as he stood up but he was interjected by a loud shout from the Khan

“Enough!”