Storyboards: Shinara

Yar Nadrak | Angarak prison | Adventures of a priest and priestess | Alorn religion | Before she knew herself

Yar Nadrak

Booming crash and loud cursing woke her up in the middle of the night. Thinking to herself, she decided not to accept a room next to the main room of any tavern in future, no matter what. It was bad enough she couldn't sleep more than an hour or two but the smell of strong Nadrak beer was almost too much for her. She closed her eyes, trying to get more sleep. Starting to get used to the noise and ignoring the smell, she began to drift. Maybe she could have fallen asleep. Just maybe, but the noise suddenly died and she woke up to wonder what had happened.
Muttering to herself, she dismissed her need to sleep, dressed up and opened the door to the tavern main room. A quick glance around the room and she decided to leave as soon as possible. The tavern must have been beautiful when it was first opened. Not anymore - now it disgusted her. Smoke inside, beer and vomit covering almost half of the floor. Lost in thought she was brought to reality when men in the room started to clap their hands. In no time, her curiosity was answered. There was a Nadrak dancer in the tavern and every man in the tavern was staring at her dance.
Smiling to herself she noticed how men in the tavern were paralysed as they followed, their eyes hard, the Nadrak's sensual dance. She was truly challenging all the men to try their luck. Suddenly something caught her eye, or lack of something to be truthful. She had no owner.
As suddenly as she started to dance, she stopped and turned her back to the audience. The Nadrak walked next to the Algar, still keeping her back turned to the drunken, obviously, suicidal men. A couple of them approached the back of the dancer and their friends, now few ponds of vomit behind, cheered them on to have their way with the Nadrak dancer. I noticed the Algar smile faintly as she turned around to face the men.
Out of nowhere, two daggers flashed in her hands and the men moaned in agony. I looked at the dancer and there she was, drinking her beer. Rest of the men were stirring from their drunken slumber. Two of their friends had been knifed and they wanted blood and probably some entertainment just as well. Acting without thinking I raised my arms, bellowed 'yrawzgculatz', prayed to my God and up rose columns of fire between the dancer and advancing men. There was not much to do but to escape and we ran out. Right outside the door, the dancer smiled and spoke.
'Greetings. My name is Fieron, help was unnecessary but I appreciate the gesture'
I smiled at her and answered 'My name is Shinara, shall we ride together for a while?'
We rode on for a while I thought we were not followed. I was obviously wrong. Hearing the sounds of men screaming directions to each other definitely set a new pace to our escape. It was dark and this Fieron person was giving me hard time to follow her. My horse, being old and sensible, was uncaring of parading and riding too hard. I knew, I would have to buy a lot of carrots for Spitter, my horse, to forgive me.
Spitter was giving all he was worth and, after half an hour of hard riding through the path in the forest, Spitter started frothing. Urging him to one more burst, I gained on Fieron and yelled at her,
'Lets separate and meet in Rheon if Gods so decide!' Not waiting for her answer, I turned Spitter to thicker woods and slowed our ride down to quiet pace.
Stopping for a moment, I couldn't help realising the humour of the situation. She was probably more than prepared to deal with those who were hunting us but I wasn't. Here I was, sitting on an old tired horse, alone in the forest with angry hunters at my heels. I laughed. I knew it was only matter of time before they'd catch me. Why make them angrier than they already are? I thought and built a fire and prepared a camp. Perhaps they only wanted to catch the knife wielding Nadrak dancer for opening up their friends. Checking my camping place would probably slow them down and give her time to ride over to Drasnia.
After Shinara had started a fire, it only took few minutes for the hunters to gather around the small clearing she had chosen for the mockery of a camp. Hunters advanced slowly, obviously remembering the witch wielded fire in the tavern. Armed with bows, some with slings and spears, they approached but made sure they were not close enough. The priestess in trouble decided not to move too fast and stayed down, clearly waiting for the hunters to take control of the situation in order to save her own life.
Nothing, what were they waiting for just standing there aiming their arrows at me? she thought. Soon she got her answer. A short agile man, perhaps in middle of his thirties, approached her asking,
“Do you want to keep your life?” While answering yes, a new hope sparkled inside me. I might yet reach Rheon and meet the mysterious Nadrak again. The man spoke to me again.
“Do not resist, we will not hurt you.” I didn't and my arms were bound with a rope and I was hurled on my own horse not knowing what would happen to me. Still, something in that young man's eyes had reassured me that I would not be hurt or disgraced. Slowly, we started trotting towards the small nameless village of Nadrak hunters.

Dark clouds gathered over the forest as the band of hunters escorted Shinara back to the village. Soon, the sky roared thunder and it was as if the gates of damnation had been opened when the devastating hailstorm crushed through the higher level of trees. Branches and leaves were of little protection. The group dissolved, everyone sought shelter as they could.
For a moment the prisoner thought she'd be mutilated by the furious storm but then the short spokesman dragged her down from the saddle and sheltered her body with his own. Horses bolted and escaped towards the village. Within few minutes the hailstorm was over and the ragged group started to walk towards the village with tired muscles hammered by the hail.
After a while they reached the village and Shinara was escorted to largest of the houses. The man, who had protected her from the storm, pushed her up the stairs to a dark room.
Tall bald man rose from a chair placed next to the bed saying, 'Magick user, me men brought ye ere for a reason' pointing towards the bed he continued 'tis 'ere is uncle of mine, ill to the core of his old bones and will soon buried in the forest lest ye heal him.'
Reaching over the bed, Shinara carefully opened closed eyes of the unconscious man who was breathing raggedly. His eyes were almost completely black. Only few veins were as red, as if pulsing against what Shinara recognized as symptoms of a lethal poison. Carefully cleaning her hands to her clothes she turned to the bald man.
'Your uncle has been poisoned,' Shinara said, and continued, 'I must know exactly when it happened or the antidote I must give him will be too weak or strong'. The bald man muttered something under his breath and whispered something to the short agile man. He darted out of the room and returned quickly and answered.
'It has been fourth of this moon he was poisoned by a murderous thief'. Turning to Shinara, Bald man snarled 'Can you heal him witch?'
Closing her eyes, Shinara whispered, 'I might be able to heal your uncle, but I need certain herbs from Sthiss Tor. Without those herbs he will surely perish before two moons have passed.'
Cursing loud the bald man issued an order to the agile man 'Take her to Sthiss Tor and make sure you return with her before two moons pass' Glaring around the room he continued 'If you fail, your and her life are in mortal danger...’ And for a while he was quiet and then continued, ‘This I promise to you'.

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Angarak prison
While looking for a certain foul herb in Rak Cthol, Shinara found gates and a guard seemingly asleep. This however wasn't the reality and while trying to sneak past the guard to see what was behind the gates the guard stood up and yelled for more Angaraks to assist in imprisoning the intruder. The weak struggle against two huge Thull warriors did no good and her vision blackened and she fell to the arms of the Thulls, unconscious.
After waking up she thought to herself 'What the heck just happened?' In no time, she spotted the rat holes in the walls and recalled what had happened just before. Cold shivers ran down her back as she realised her mission for the emperor of Mallorea, Zakath the insane could now go awry and her life was in danger. Concentrating on present moment she began to examine the cell she was now trapped in.
Rubbing her eyes, Shinara looked around. Walls were clean and straight. Only few little holes she had mistaken for rat holes were visible. The jail was obviously new, not even finished yet. It didn't even stink. A spark of hope sparkled in her heart. Knowing the chance of getting out was minimal but the mere possibility made her smile. Hope of escaping Angarak interrogators, foul murgos, conquered her mind.
Kneeling closer to inspect the holes in the walls she felt the brush of wind and the smell of water. Water was close and with little trickery, if Belar so chose, she could guide the water towards the lower parts of walls in her prison. Without wasting more time, she closed her eyes and sent forth a prayer to Belar, again and again. Nothing happened, an hour passed and she became desperate, her prayer more demanding. Feeling guilt for almost issuing an order to her God Belar, she humpled down and with a quiet voice, asked for help.
Soon she felt the water and looking down, saw murky water brush her feet.
The new cement holding the stones together began to give in. Struggling for her life, she heaved every bit of strength she had against the stone. She pushed the wall for what felt like an eternity for her. Deciding to give her escape one last chance she gathered herself and pushed. Stones creaked and the wall gave in. Struggling through the small hole in the wall she dashed to the dark streets of Rak Cthol. Running as fast as she could, away from the Angarak halls. Without looking back, she ran and ran and finally found herself in crumbled ruins of a house. Knowing the place, tediously, she began her way back to ancient Mallorea in her mind blessing every God she knew for their help.

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Adventures of a priest and priestess
Two Algars met during the month of the Heat. This is their story, a true story. They met during the day of Freedom, great day for Sendars! The first one introduced himself as Arlack, the one Wandering. The second introduced herself as Shinara, the Unbeliever. Soon they realised they both were members of Algarian clergy and decided to move along for a while.
'This is a nice change for counting cattle' Shinara thought and tried to stay up with Arlack who was obviously going somewhere. It didn't take long before they were before the River's Bend Inn.
'Lets go and get something to wash the dust down our throats,' Arlack said and started towards the inn.
At the same time a man across the street yelled something incoherent at them. He obviously wanted their attention because his hands were flailing wild and he was obviously his weak voice as loud as he could. Members of Algarian clergy turned around, abandoning the warmth of the inn and went to speak to the nervous man flapping his hands in inviting gestures.
'Greetings travelers, I see you both have come a long way, but I have a favour to ask and I will pay handsome reward for help. Would you two listen to a man in trouble?' Nodding that they would, priest and priestess pulled their cloaks tighter for they realised they couldn't enjoy the warmth of the Rivers Bend Inn yet.
After listening a while, it was clear their help was gravely needed. No one else would help Silawyr, an armourer in Camaar to regain something he had recently lost. An item so valuable it could be his peril if he wouldn't get it back. Without wasting more time, they decided to start.
'Lets see if I understand this map the right way' Arlack muttered while they slowly started towards Camaar. After a while they were in the middle of light woods and there was no sign about gates of Camaar. How had they missed gates of Camaar? 'Where are we?' Shinara asked and managed to sound slightly worried. Arlack looked at the map again and frowned. 'I think this map isn't correct. Strange the ranger who sold it said it was excellent'. With determination in his voice Arlack set towards Camaar again, or where he thought it would be and started walking even faster than before. It didn't take long before Arlack found his way to Camaar and after asking directions weapon smith Walivia they found their way to Silawyr.
Silawyr's armoury was clean. Lots of pieces of armour on several tables. The armourer himself was cleaning armour and glanced at the door when two Algars entered his shop. Shinara smiled at the old man and said,
'Your friend from city of Sendar sent us to help you regain something you have lost. My friend Arlack here will give you the letter he give us to convince you.' Moving closer, Arlack gave a sheet of paper to Silawyr and stepped back to wait him read it. After a while Silawyr straightened his back and looked directly at the Algars standing before him, his eyes a cold blue.

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Alorn religion
I have never met an Alorn doubting existence of Belar. Acknowledging Belar as supreme entity in our lives seems to be part of our blood and heritage. Sometimes I suspect it is Belar's miracle to bond his subjects in this way. Perhaps it is a curse as much as it is a blessing. I don't know. I doubt.
As a member of Algar clergy I don't feel any kind of spiritual connection to Belar. It has made me doubt my faith. For a long time I have seen religion as traditions and rites for lazy scholars to mull over. Life of clergy member is easy. We grow lazy. At least I have grown lazy. I smile a tired smile when I marry a young couple or pray for Belar's blessing to protect someone.
I realise the Alorn clergy is an institution of men and women who do not seek guidance of Belar constantly. We pull our words from tradition and common sense for we are not a God fearing people. Every Alorn respects Belar but there is no connection other than the heritage, bond of blood and teachings of clergy about God who chose us and who has now left us.
Belar speaks to us no more. Clergy establishes the religion. Source of faith is clergy trying to strengthen the bond Alorns still feel to Belar. Perhaps without guidance an Alorn might live a life without realising a God once chose his people. Perhaps the religion has lost its meaning. What does organized religion serve? Does it serve the people? Is blessing a marriage all that a clergy can do? We don't even know if Belar hears our prayers.
Problematic issues arise when I doubt. I see clergy stuck in time. Religion unmoving without faith. World changes and religion, earthly to begin with, is beginning to change. Clergy is trying to keep its place as keeper of moral and right ideals. People of forward and direct God are manipulated by enforcing the importance of spiritualism in faith to Belar. I never saw Belar as a God who would require deep prayer or spiritual behavior. I wouldn't go as far as ancient Belgarath though. No member of clergy true in faith or not would never call Belar childish!
Now I see clergy as power hungry usurper competing against Kings. Weapon of of our choice is to convince people they lack faith when our religion is based on pure knowledge of existence of our God.
I have not lost Belar in my heart.
I have not lost my faith. I know he is and will be.
I have lost my belief in clergy of Alorns.
I have become an Unbeliever against all that represents our religion.

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Part of history, what was and came to be, story that'll one day reach present: Before she knew herself
Epilogue
The sun was rising over the horizon as our longboat crew rowed closer to the shores where the Morindim tribes lived. Only thing I could hear was quiet sounds of splashing of water. No one as much as whispered and I was scared and cold. This was my first raid and I was not to join the battles. My task was to serve and tend the wounded as the tradition required of one
Slowly the longboats reached the shore and radiant sun climbed higher on the sky and the land bathed in its glory. Morning as beautiful as ever spoke nothing of the horrors ahead. Cheerful atmosphere was indeed common among Cherek raiding parties, especially before the battle. Dozens of warriors prepared the shore camp without noticing a small child dressed in wolf furs crawling on top of the far hill. I failed to spot her just as well. I was set as a look out, one of the many who failed and yet I can only blame myself.

In panic, Ygringah ran like a wind, driven by fear and need. Mosh and gravel flew as her deer skin boots struck the ground harder and faster than ever before. After running for half an hour, Ygringah breathed hard, spat blood and felt dizzy, yet the fear drove her long enough to reach the village and arms of her mother.
Somehow she knew, there was no time to rest. Weird thoughts to such a young child. After a while Ygringah was more scared than before. All around her she saw chaos. Men, women and children were running in and out of their huts. All around people threw their old things away and packed what was precious to their backpacks. Being afraid, she wanted comfort from her mother but mother slapped her hard, told her to be quiet and wait.
She wished her father was there. Ygringah knew no one stronger and smarter than paps was, but now she hated him. Her father was in what her mother had called the tribunal. As they abandoned their homes, Ygringah's mother could only take few of their possessions with her. Ygringah felt even stronger hatred towards her father because he had left before the trouble she didn't fully understand and by doing so, made them poor in cruel eyes of everyone else who used to live in their beautiful village.
Shgtingha, poorest member of their village looted belongings of Ygringah's family. As the child's mother tried to stop him, he struck her down with a kettle he had just stolen. Ygringah cried as she ran to her unconscious mother. Cradling her mother's head on her lap, Ygringah's eye caught something on the ground next to her mother's hand. A strange rune engraved knife was partially buried on the ground. Weird she thought, she had never seen it before and the knife was made of dark red bone. How she knew that, no one can tell. When she reached for the knife it quivered and it felt as if the knife settled to her hand instead of her seizing it.

Back to the shore
I was sore after carrying clean water from a spring some distance from the shore. I knew clean water was needed to tend the wounded but I still felt I would serve better if I only could take part to the melee, raping and blundering. I was told Morindim women were strong of will, ugly and yet they possessed almost animal like exotic sexuality. I had only twice seen a Nadrak woman but in my mind I imagined Morindim women to be something similar. I still don't know if there is nothing I could have been more wrong about. Lost in my thoughts and dreams of battles to come I almost missed the shouts of returning scouts.
"Gringar! We found abandoned village, small in size! They know we are here!" -Slender warrior yelled at Gringar, a leader to the hordes gathered on the shore. "Hoho, then it may be we'll have a fight worth singing about!" Warriors who could hear him chuckled and rattled their weapons against shields had strapped to their arms. Weird thing I thought, some of the men had smaller shield strapped to their left arm and they could still wield a short sword, mace or a long knife to the battle alongside with their broad and battle swords, axes and battle hammers. Shortly after, Gringar chose three dozen men to guard the campsite and 17 dozen men he took with himself to raid the inland. Out of the first timers, I and Myrgrin were chosen to carry bandages and strong mead for warriors who would get wounded. Both of us were armed with short swords and two throwing axes.
The sun was already setting down as we reached the empty village. It was obvious to me it had been abandoned quickly. There was nothing to loot but we remained cheerful. Villages inland would surely be larger and rich with treasure. Oh, could I have been more wrong?

Campsite at the mountains of Cherek
"Aye, all words true I tell ya lass, what had happened to the Morindim child I learned afterwards but to keep the amazing story intact, I tell it the way it sounds best! Now my throat is dry and I ask you lass, would you offer me more of your mead to honour my story and campsite? An old man with a scarf wrapped around his head grumbled.
Smiling at the man, the woman sitting on the other side of the camp fire answered "By all means old bear, drink as much you need, I appreciate your story and kindness to share the camp site. Besides, I have large stash of mead for travelling. Oh and you may call me Shinara, lass I have not been for a long time.
"Let me tell ye lass, next part of my story will give you nightmares for the rest of yer life!"
The storyteller turned around to get a piece of bread and tobacco. At the same time woman, now identified as Shinara, pulled a knife from her boot and slipped it in her sleeve with one fluid motion almost too fast for an eye to see, even if you’d be looking directly at her. As the man turned she was smiling warmly and offered him some more mead.

The Morindland
Tribe from the abandoned village moved as fast as they could. Those who couldn’t keep up the pace were left behind were they men, women or children even from the same family. Everyone knew what would happen if they’d fail to escape raiders they only knew as roaring berserkers. They didn’t know where they came from, why or what they wanted. They only knew their huts would burn, women would be raped, men killed and everything they own taken. Runners dropped their heavier belongings and kept only those they saw precious to their survival wherever they would travel. Had their village been larger, they’d have had a wizard capable of defending all of them but alas, it was not so. Now their only chance was to reach the tribunal. Surely their tracks would be followed and only at the gathering of wizards and masters of lore they would be safe.

Some way back
Quite a few miles behind escaping villagers, injured woman and a small girl moved slowly towards the valley of the tribunal meeting. Woman’s left eye had swollen shut and she was walking on trembling legs and falling down from time to time. The girl tried to hold her up the best she could but it was to no avail. Both of them were exhausted and struggling on limits of their strength. This sad couple tried to find shelter from the vast hills before their eyes and found none. Only rocks and moss with few bushes spread before their eyes. "Daughter, we have to hide, soon the raving monsters will catch us and then well surely perish." Ygringah’s mother led her towards highest hill, astray from following the tracks of villagers who had escaped before them. Closer to the hills rising higher, Ygringah’s mother found shelter next to a large stone formation and few small bushes. Together they went into hiding, crying together for demon lords and the king of hell to be merciful. As they prayed, Ygringah’s imagination played a trick to her mind. She was sure that while she prayed, the bone knife she had stuffed inside her clothes quivered and felt warm for a moment.

Close to the hills
The sun had almost set and tracks were harder to follow for our scouts. The sky was burning fiery red. Evil omen thought the witches of Cherek. Even the chicken entrails cutting clergy of Belar agreed. I never understood how opening up a chicken and slicing its guts could tell a priest one thing from another. However, the sky gave us light to track our prey and keep running. All of us felt we are gaining on our prey, those poor villagers we already thought of as enemies. It does that to a man, whoever I’ve ever chased after, a man or a woman, the longer I chase, more brutal and violent I become and I saw this in my fellow warriors just as well. Now it’s obvious to me it's merely thirst for blood and nothing real.
"Ey, STOP! Weak huffing beasts, gather around!" Gringar yelled and everyone stopped for a moment, made their breath even and trotted closer to hear what he had to say. "Scouts forward, we are closing in soon" and three scouts ran forward with their backs arched. One of them I knew. He was Ungah, son to my mother’s sister. He was few years elder to me and a fierce fighter. I envied him when Gringar told me and Myrgrin would on the sides of the party. We were set far from advancing point of the horde. We were supposed to sound an alarm with horns they gave us. If we saw something, scouts of enemies on our flanks or something weird. Someone behind me joked about demons and the king of hell. It earned snorting laughter from everyone around us. Agnar the Fierce suggested that me and Myrgrin should force ourselves on the demons if they were female. Mentioning like that wed for once get a warm "woman". Everyone knew that demons in tales come from fiery pits of hell. I felt my cheeks turn red and tried to laugh the joke off as did Myrgrin with equal success which was none whatsoever.

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