TALE - The Mycenor

[Sigismund229]

So, as simison started revising the Second Son for the anthology, I thought I'd make a tentative start on Hectarion's story. Here's the start of it. I'm only using the title the Third Son until I think up a better name

The child gripped the rock as tightly as he could. All around him, Mycenae’s icy winds blew and ripped, tearing off sections of his skin as the snow fell and the cold froze his fingers. Yet still he kept climbing, hauling himself further up the cliff face. His muscles burned with the effort of continuing. It was a strange sensation and not one the boy had ever felt before. Below him he could see the clouds and he could hear the waves crashing against rocks, rocks upon which every other adventurer who had attempted to climb the rocks had been broken.

By all rights the child should have been killed by the cliff face many days ago. He had been climbing three days and three nights up the steep cliff face. His muscles burned. His fingers and hands were raw and bloody from gripping the rock, he was covered in scabs from where his skin had been torn off by the wind of Mycenae as it tried to hurl him back down onto the rocks. But he wasn’t any ordinary child. He was the child who had fallen from the sky.

He smiled as he climbed. He enjoyed it, the primal challenge of it. Here was a foe who couldn’t be scared away or defeated. You couldn’t defeat nature. You could only test yourself against it. Each day you survived was a small triumph, a test you had passed but nature always won out in the end. Whether by an enemy axe or a stone lion nature always climbed its due eventually. Until then, you could only test yourself against it and resist it, never defeat it.

Eventually, the child reached the summit of the mountain. He looked down from it, at the clouds beneath him, the ocean and rocks, the green forests of Mycenae. No other being save the gods had seen Mycenae from here before. The child laughed and whooped at the sheer elation of having survived the climb where no other had. He sat down at the top of the world, still laughing.

Lying down, he gazed up at the sky. Above him he saw the stars. They had always fascinated him, those tiny pinpricks of light. The priests said that they each one was a glowing acorn on one of the branches of the world tree that bound the entire universe together. Each one was part of the realm of the gods and only the gods had seen them all and travelled them all. The child looked up at them and grinned. One day, he would travel among them and fight among the gods. So had it been prophesied. So would it be.

Edited December 1, 2017 by Lord Thørn

[simison]

Truth be told, I was so confused when I saw the thread name in the forum. For a moment, I though my Third Son thread had mistakenly made its way here.

 

Glad to see that it was holding a much better surprise. Not sure if the Second Son will fit in the anthology. I thought the anthology was supposed to be about the Primarchs before the Emperor found them?

[helterskelter]

This seems quite close to perturabo's early days story I'm certain, there's a scene in Angel Exterminatus.

[simison]

Shouldn't this be titled the Ninth Son, since that's when Hec is found?

[Kelborn]

Thank you, Helter. I knew that I recognize that scene but couldn't remember its origin. :)

[bluntblade]

Just call it The Mycenaen, I suggest

[Doctor Perils]

Just call it The Mycenaen, I suggest

Or even just "Mycenaean"

 

Could you improve the size of the text a bit? It looks like it's on size 1, size 10/12 is usually considered the easiest to read.

[Sigismund229]

Hectarion woke. Glancing around him, his eyes easily penetrating the gloom, he saw nothing but his warriors sleeping around him. As always, the contrast between his Curadhi's warlike nature and how peacefully they slept amused Hectarion. He had seen each of them drenched in blood and howling to the sky in triumph, yet now they slept as peacefully as children. Then a hot, sharp pain stabbed into Hectarion behind his eyes. As it did he felt a bloodlust begin to rise within him. As it did, a voice said Give in. Kill your warriors. If you do the pain will end. All the suffering will go away. You'll be at peace as you were before.

Picking up his cloak and pulling it around himself, Hectarion stood and left his great hall and his curadhi sleeping peacefully. Each had fought a hundred battles for him, never questioning, never taking a step back. He would endure any amount of pain before he turned on them. Walking away from his great hall to the ramparts of his tribe's hill fort, Hectarion simply gazed up at the stars. He still remembered the first time he had observed them, just as he still dreamed about the first time he had climbed Mount Æsgard. He had been little more than a child when he had climbed up to these same battlements and gazed in awe at the stars. Young as he was, he'd never truly noticed or thought about them before. He had simply stood there for hours, just looking at them. Even then he had, in some strange way, understood that his destiny lay among those pinpricks of light. All he had left was to find out how.

As he gazed up into the sky, Hectarion heard somebody approaching from behind him and fresh stabs of pain knife into his mind. Suppressing a twitch from the pain, he turned to see that the person walking towards him was Maridius. Of all Hectarion's warriors, Maridius was the one Hectarion most respected. He had been one of the original warriors who had found Hectarion alone in the wilderness, bleeding and confused after he had fallen from the sky. He was the only one who still lived. The rest had been killed either by an enemy blade or by their world's brutal climate. Yet Maridius had lived on and fought for Hectarion, even now that he was in his fifty third winter. Fifty three winters! Hectarion could barely believe it. For a Mycenaean to have seen thirty winters was unusual, fifty was unheard of.

"What is it Maridius?" Hectarion asked.

"A lord should never be without his curadhi" Maridius replied.

Hectarion grinned at the old warrior, trying to ignore the agony surging through him, "You can be honest. We both know I have no need for shield bearers".

Maridius said " Lad, I've known you since you fell from the sky. I taught you how to fight and how to rule just as Two-Blade's grandfather taught you about the stars and gods. I've been your shield since you were old enough to fight. Don't try to hide the fact that something's wrong".

Hectarion sighed. He'd known he wouldn't be able to hide it forever but he hadn't thought anyone would spot it this fast. "Who else has noticed?" he asked.

"All your curadhi. They stood guard over you for two days as you recovered from fighting Ma'aanan, not sleeping and barely eating. When you awoke you were a different person. You can't hide anything from them. Apart from them" Maridius shrugged "I doubt anyone else is left who knows you well enough to have noticed".

Hectarion nodded. Then, on a whim, he asked Maridius " Have you never questioned your fate?".

Maridius shook his head. "Never. When I was young I threw myself into battle and never thought about the possibility of death or of who I'd leave behind. All I cared about was forging a tale to last in our people's history for all time. Now I'm content for my fate to be intertwined with yours and I have been since I first lifted blades with you. If your fate lies in the stars, so does mine".

Hectarion nodded and then they simply stood on the rampart, gazing upon the stars. No words passed between them. None were needed.

Edited October 17, 2016 by Sigismund229

[Sigismund229]

Hectarion sat on his throne, desperately trying to hide the immense agony of the stabbing pain behind his eyes. No one save his Curadhi could know yet for that very same reason, he couldn't ignore his duties as High King and part of those duties was settling all manner of legal disputes or feuds that had erupted between his people. While pettier disputes, those between kin folk over plots of land or livestock, he left to their tribal kings, larger disputes required his personal intervention.

Looking at the two parties in front of him, Hectarion wanted to sigh. Before him were the kings of the Turigges and Almoni, two tribes from the harsh peaks and plateaus of Mycenae's mountains and tribes that always quarrelled over one thing or another , in full armour and accompanied by their curadhi and important kinfolk. While both sides had left their weapons outside of Hectarion's hall as a sign of respect, they still carried daggers in order to cut meat at a feast inside their lord's hall. However, given their warlike attire and the nature of their presence in Hectarion's hall, he could all too easily see those daggers being put to a more violent use.

"Step forward" Hectarion commanded. Both kings complied and, knowing what was to come next, drew their daggers from their sheaths. Gesturing for Traghaias, priest of the All father, to step forward Hectarion said "Do you swear that under my roof and by my hearth you shall speak truth of each other and your dispute as you would to your kin?".

The two kings nodded and sliced open their palms, letting a small amount of their blood into the silver vessel Traghaias held, and said " With the All father as our witness" in unison.

Once both kings had let some of their blood into the vessel, Traghaias held it in front of Hectarion. Drawing his own knife, the size of a normal man's sword, Hectarion sliced open his own palm and let his own blood flow into the vessels, clenching and unclenching his fist in order to stop the blood clotting. Then once he had done so, he took the vessel from Traghaias' hands and said "Then I swear to judge your dispute as I would one between my own kin and sentence you no more or less harshly" and took a small sip from his and the two king's collected blood before passing the vessel back to Traghaias who gave it to the two kings, who drank the remaining blood in the vessel.

When they had, Hectation gestured for the king of the Turigges to step forwards to the space in front of Hectarion's throne and speak his piece, not just to Hectarion but also to the various tribal princes and nobles present in Hectarion's hall. "Our dispute began as the snows began to fall in the peaks where we make our home" the king began, projecting his voice so that all within the hall could hear him "My people were beginning to herd our cattle down from the higher plateaus to our traditional wintering lands. However, within just a few weeks, several families were butchered and their cattle stolen by the Almoni! We retaliated of course, as any tribe would, but they then burnt entire fields of our crops to the ground meaning that unless we receive compensation we shan't survive the winter".

Nodding, Hectarion gestured for the king of the Almoni to step forward. "My king, the truth of the matter is that the land on which those Turigges grazed their cattle has belonged to my people since before our grandfather's grandfather's were born. We were simply reclaiming our land and taking the cattle as payment for the Turigges' crimes". The king stopped to draw breath so that he could continue but before he could, a voice from among the king of the Turigges retinue shouted " LIES!", prompting the king of Almoni's curadhi to draw their daggers, ready to defend their king's honour and cut out the offenders tongue so that he could never again produce such slanders. The Turigges responded by drawing their dagger and forming a wall between their king and the Almoni.

The two parties began to hurl insults at each other and Hectarion's anger and frustration rose, not aided by the almost unbearable stabbing pain behind his eyes. Standing up, he roared "ENOUGH!", his voice loud enough to burst the eardrums of several unfortunates. The king of the Almoni began " I cannot let that insult.." but Hectarion shouted over him "DID I SAY YOUR MEN COULD DRAW ARMS IN MY HALL? I AM KING HERE! ME!" then, glaring at the two kings he shouted "NOT YOU AND NOT YOU!". Still glaring at them and cursing the pain in his head, Hectarion sat back down and said " This matter shall be decided in the old way. A champion from each tribe shall be chosen and fight to the death. The victorious tribe keeps the land". Drawing a deep breath, he said "Who shall champion each tribe?".

From each party, a man stepped forward. From the Turigges stepped forth a young warrior who couldn't have seen more than eighteen winters, while from the Almoni came a warrior in the prime of life, the vast swirling mess of tatoos on his face revealing his experience. Nodding, Hectarion said " The champions have stepped forward. Give them weapons" at which all other people in the hall stepped aside to form a rough circle as two members of Hectarion's curadhi stepped forward and gave the warriors their swords and shields.

Edited October 17, 2016 by Sigismund229

[Sigismund229]

Each of the warriors immediately settled into a guard. As they circled each other, Hectarion sized up each warrior in turn. The Turigge was lighter on his feet and seemed to dance where his opponent placed his feet solidly on the ground and stood as though his feet were roots, sinking deep into the earth and only being dislodged with great difficulty. However, the older warrior held himself with more surety where his younger opponent seemed more anxious. This was likely only his first duel and quite possibly his last. Hectarion could see both warriors assessing each other as he had just done, albeit slower. They continued to circle each other for almost a minute until finally the younger warrior lunged forward, smashing bodily into his opponent. While he didn't dislodge his opponent from where he stood, Hectarion grinned as he saw the actual intent. The young warrior made a draw cut with his sword as his opponent was recovering from the initial charge across the older warrior's thigh. First blood.

He then withdrew and the two circled for a while longer before coming together again in a clash of blades. But as their second clash went on in a relentless rhythm of slashes, stabs and parries Hectarion saw the older warrior start to slow. The difference in speed was tiny, in all likelihood neither the warrior himself nor anyone else had noticed it but it was there. It was differences like that that made the difference in single combat. Within a few moments the difference in speed became apparent to normal human eyes and Hectarion saw a tiny grin pull at the lips of the Turigge. Doubtless emboldened by the decrease in his opponent's speed, he pushed on and launched a stab at his opponent's belly. However, his opponent opened his defence and caught the blade by letting it slice into his side. Bellowing in pain, he then brought his sword up in a slash that severed his opponent's throat, sending blood spurting into the air the younger warrior collapsed twitching to the floor.

Traghaias banged his staff three times on the ground, a useless gesture to signal the end of the duel but one that also signaled that Hectarion would now proclaim his judgement. "The All father has spoken" Hectarion declared "The land belongs to the Almoni by right of blood". Then, seeing the awful condition of the Almoni champion, he added "However, your own champion did not escape unscathed. Therefore the Turigges cause must have some justice. So, I command that you give them...100 cattle from your herds to make amends for those of theirs you stole and the Turigges you killed". Following this, Traghaias banged his staff on the ground three times again and said " The High King has spoken. Go and abide by his justice" he declared. Both kings knelt, a sign of their accepting his justice, although neither looked happy about it and Hectarion had no doubt that they would be back in his hall seeking a resolution to a feud before next summer if he was lucky and they were patient.

The tribes of Mycenae weren't meant to be ruled by one man Hectarion reflected, sighing and rubbing his temples in an attempt to ease the knifing pain behind his eyes. Taking his hand away from his temples he looked up from where he had been staring at the ground to see that in front of him stood an ordinary looking man in a sodden cloak. There was little remarkable about him. His eyes were grey like those of many of Mycenae's tribesmen and his long hair was left unstyled after the fashion of the mountain tribes. "And who are you? From which tribe do you hail?" Hectarion asked. "I am a wanderer" the stranger replied "I travel all Mycenae. I have no tribe, no hearth. My home is where I lay my head".

A few of Hectarion's curadhi muttered disapprovingly but Hectarion nodded in understanding. Not all could be warriors and some chose the path of the wanderer. "You are welcome beneath my roof" Hectarion said, almost twitching at the intensification of the stabbing pain behind his eyes, "You may warm yourself by my hearth and tonight you shall feast with us". The stranger bowed his head and said "Thank you. It is not often I sleep warm with a full stomach".

Edited October 17, 2016 by Sigismund229

[Sigismund229]

Hectarion's looked out across his hall and the feast he had arrayed for this stranger. Over the fire in the centre of his hall was a pig on a spit and dozens of platters of various meats were arrayed for his guest and curadhi, and servants ensured that every man's goblet of Nerith was always full. The colour of amber and packing a punch like Hectarion's armoured fist as well as causing hallucination, Nerith was the perfect drink for feasts and a hall of Mycenaean warriors could consume dozens of barrels of the stuff in an evening.

As entertainment for those who were eating, several warriors of Hectarion's curadhi fought each other, their weapons clashing in a cloud of sparks. However, unlike the duel between the young Turigge and his Almoni opponent, these fights were sword dances. They were not fights to the death, the object of the exercise was entertainment and so the warriors focussed on making their fights as drawn out and fast paced as possible while at the same time clashing their weapons together in a flurry of sparks as often as possible while simultaneously dancing to the music being played by several noble women near them.

Looking at his guest, who sat to Hectarion's right in the place of honour, Hectarion saw that he was wolfing food down and drinking little, keeping his glancing around the room frequently. Laughing, Hectarion asked "How long has it been since you last ate friend?". The wanderer smiled in return and said "Too long. And it's not often one enjoys a High King's hospitality". Laughing, Hectarion drained his oversized goblet of Nerith.

Soon, much of the meat had been eaten and dozens of barrels of Nerith emptied. Seeing that the eating was over, the warriors of Hectarion's curadhi who had been duelling bowed and left the centre of the hall to sit among their comrades and drink to make up for lost time. Now, Hectarion turned to the stranger and said "Now you can pay for your food" and smiled. The stranger looked bemused and said "How?". Equally confused, Hectarion replied " By telling us a tale of course". Realisation of what was expected of him lit up in the stranger's eyes and he chuckled saying "Of course! Forgive me, it has been too long since I stayed in another's hearth".
Rising from his place he walked to the centre of the hall and began to speak. "I have journeyed to many places. Let me tell you of the time I went to the land of the dead. I was travelling the oceans when suddenly a vast storm erupted. Rain beat down and wind tore the ship's sails. We could barely keep her afloat. Finally, an enormous wave rose up and crashed onto the ship, washing me overboard and taking me beneath the waves. Try as I might I couldn't swim to the surface and soon I shut my eyes and gave in. Eoth and Domnall grabbed hold of me and soon they were dragging me further and further beneath the waves to their halls. Once there however, I refused to stay. I did not eat, fine though the food they presented me was, nor did I drink. I demanded that they let me return to world of the living. Eventually, they told me I could return to the land of the living if I completed three tasks. The first was to defeat Domnall's son, Bryn in a feasting contest. I ate as quickly as I could and I picked the bones clean until I met Bryn in the middle of the enormous platter. However, Bryn had eaten the platter, the bones and the meat. I had lost. Then Eoth demanded that I defeat his daughter Ryka in a race. I believed it would be easy for she was a small girl but she ran faster than the wind and defeated me with ease. I had lost again. The final task was to drain Domnall's vast drinking horn. I took a dozen of the deepest draughts I could but when I looked they had barely changed the amount of Nerith in the horn which I could barely lift to my lips it was so heavy. I had failed a third time and Eoth and Domnall began to laugh. But instead of laughing at me they were laughing out of admiration of me. They then admitted they had tricked me. Bryn wasn't Domnall's son at all. He was fire, and fire consumes all. Ryka was the wind for nothing moves faster than the wind and Domnall's had been filled with the ocean, not Nerith, for the ocean can never be emptied. They laughed and told me they admired how well I had performed and, out of admiration of my feats, said that they would allow me to return to the land he living".

Edited October 17, 2016 by Sigismund229

[simison]

"...keeping his glancing around the room frequently." This needs to be re-worded. 

 

"...stranger's eyes[,] and he..."

 

I did like the tale though, and...

 

http://s2.quickmeme.com/img/8f/8f2aaa088711d81edcbf169e362e1086e9f4c6f55db6e26acfb0d83d9fb3816b.jpg

[Sigismund229]

"...keeping his glancing around the room frequently." This needs to be re-worded. 

 

"...stranger's eyes[,] and he..."

 

I did like the tale though, and...

 

http://s2.quickmeme.com/img/8f/8f2aaa088711d81edcbf169e362e1086e9f4c6f55db6e26acfb0d83d9fb3816b.jpg

I did wonder who would get the reference to Norse mythology

[simison]

I've been running a Scion role-playing game set in Norse mythology, so I'm neck-deep in Norse references lately.