Berlien the Invasion: V R Books - Australasian Dreaming

By Roy Spurns

Berlien is a part of Australasian dreaming, a series based on the exciting concept of myths and legends in the Australasian region, a place where races of Neanderthals are known as burrun and a small race of humans known as gunyas still exist.
Magical beasts of the worlds beginning, carrgimin (a type of magical monitor lizard) and magic roam the world. Earth spirits enable the dreaming; a state where magic exists and can change things for good or ill.
The Invasion is the first in the series, entering a world of dreaming magic, where a black robed wizard wants to destroy and others defend the lighthouses protecting the dreaming.
The great hall of Wilmark is facing a great threat and little can save it or can it? One Yowie (yeti, big foot or many other names) thinks differently. Among it all one burrun is a focus of hatred he doesnt even know about.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Oct 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514441220

Roy Spurns

Roy Spurns resides in a small country town of NSW Australia; close to the Great Dividing Range of Australia From here he can weave the magic of stories and tales of strange happenings in a world that never was but maybe should have been. Roy has read Australian history and legend and while this series of Australasian Dreaming is not directly related to any of them it owes its beginnings to all of them. The author does not aim to produce great literature; instead he aims to amuse, to entertain and to take the imagination on a journey different to any journey you have taken before but also perhaps with a ring of strong familiarity. Some families do have them might be the theme of this tale.

Book preview

50 years after the Berlien War

All races and the history of every area of the Berlien Sea date the coming of the dragons at the time of the Braille War, one hundred years before the Berlien War, a time when the wizard Blaen led his first attack on Wilmark, the wizard’s castle in Braille. Of course even a blind man could see that was a silly enterprise doomed to failure even though it was nearly successful despite all the odds against it.

The Berlien War often known as the invasion on Berlien Island was a much grander affair, eventually involving nearly every race of the Berlien Sea over different areas of conflict for different reasons. It was not one conflict but several that all races remember with horror, because it crossed over to most nations of the Berlien Sea eventually and it began on the island of Berlien.

Events could have turned out very different when Blaen returned with a vaster and better prepared invasion force 100 years after his first attempt. Many believe Blaen could never have lived so long. Others say he must be alive even now. The truth as always is far different.

One of those truths is that is it is a very different world since the Berlien War. Any hint of a large explosion will have a horde of dragons upon you for one example.

The burrun Worrigal Morain ordered the construction of a large cannon 50 years after the Berlien War, after Arrien had declared independence, mainly because he wanted revenge on the wizards who he believed helped them gain independence.

He also marched against the wizards because, in his view at least, they sheltered and protected Braille gunyas. Braille gunyas held an entirely different view of wizard shelter and protection; one based more on the fact that the wizards took Braille land and refused to return it to the gunyas. In their view it was only the defences of Wilmark that protected the fortress city and kept it as an unwelcome guest in their midst.

Burrungima engineers advised the Worrigal that they should fire the huge cannon at Wilmark from a place just outside of Grand City in Burrungima. They advised him any shorter distance would lie below its elevation and trajectory. Such concepts were incomprehensible to the Worrigal. He ordered the burrun to tow it 300 miles to a place just outside Wilmark. What King or Emperor or ruler has ever listened to their subjects, certainly not a burrun Worrigal?

It took a lot of burrun a lot of time and hard work to drag it there, with the chief engineer, who knew his maths, insisting it was a futile thing to do. That is he did protest until he was demoted and set in charge of digging latrines for each encampment as the army progressed towards Wilmark.

The fact that Braille gunyas let it proceed through their territory can only be explained by the fact that, knowing their maths, they knew such a large machine could not be intended for them. They watched the progress and generally stayed out of the way. Their Elders nearly acted when they saw their fields and crops ruined by the cannon’s progress. However, as it was obviously going towards Wilmark and they knew the wizards would not like it they watched and waited. Their patience was well rewarded with the entertainment they got and still talk about in taverns all over Braille.

The cannon ended its journey outside Wilmark to the great surprise of the wizards. Not least because they wondered how it managed to get through gunya land. Their surprise was also due to the fact they didn’t know they were having a war with Burrungima just then. Nobody had actually told them. In fact nobody did tell them so they never knew it until many years later. Though given the events that led up to Arrien independence they should have realised the Worrigal might be somewhat annoyed with them.

With great fanfare from the assorted burrun trumpeters, (Burrungima trumpeters were famous for their pomp and ceremony and total lack of ability to hold a tune, let alone all play the same note at the same time), the huge cannon was fired. A deafening blast resulted.

The Grand Wizard Janine was deaf for some time even after the burrun left. She had been so curious that she was standing directly under the great muzzle when it fired. She wasn’t expecting it to be fired at that time. The second chief engineer still croaks although Janine has long since relented enough to change him back to a burrun. It made the Chief Engineer happy that he was digging latrines at the time.

The explosive cannon ball flew right over Wilmark far out to sea. By mere chance it landed on one of the islands of the Horseshoe Atoll. One not actually inhabited by the sea dorringin of Ylliach. That might be regarded as a bit of good luck, avoiding yet another war for Burrungima but it didn’t end as happily as it may have done for the burrun.

Only one dragon was on the island. It was obliterated with half of the island. That may explain the relatively quick response of the dragons that gathered in great numbers to fly to the source of the trouble.

Worrigal Morain ordered the chief engineer demoted to sanitary engineer in the palace sewers, since the cannon failed to strike its target. He also ordered the Second Chief Engineer to be sacked and placed as second in charge of drainage in the sewers. However as he was by then a frog he had already escaped to the sewers of Wilmark where he remained for some years happily eating cockroaches which he still enjoys secretly. The chief engineer was already in the sewer and therefore cared little about the second banishment. He actually wandered off to the mountains and never returned.

The great cannon was dragged back to Grand City where it was to be set up for a proper firing at Wilmark. Ironically the wizards did nothing because, of course, they had no idea their castle city was the cannon’s actual target in the first place. The wizards, who were not burrun, were well aware such a device could not hit Wilmark from so close a range and therefore assumed someone else was the real target.

The dragons held a very different opinion. A great horde flew into Burrungima just as the cannon was primed to fire for the second time. They swooped down on the burrun batting them with their tails into the barrel of the great gun.

When it was stuffed full of wriggling, desperate barrel chested burrun, they turned the cannon around and lowered it by removing it from its base until it lay along the ground, pointed directly at Grand City.

When it pointed directly at the Worrigal’s ornate palace they fired it. At least some believe they fired it but others think the dragons had been annoyed and flamed the cannon. The flame set fire to the wick which then fired the cannon. The device flew backwards several feet and squashed several dragons to death giving rise to the theory they did not actually intend to fire it.

Burrun flew through the air all over the city. They made quite a mess really. It took the Worrigal’s retinue three weeks to clean the palace. The burrun later broke up the remains of the great cannon and smelted it down into iron ingots. From this time the burrun call dragons, Wudinna, meaning makers of a lot of hard shit.

Fear of dragons is common all over the world since the Berlien War but imagine what it must take to make the Emperor of the mighty Karl Empire nervous? They weren’t involved in the start of the Berlien War, unless you count their almost ceaseless fighting with the Kormin and the Toads, the sea people, along their borderlands, the Delphinian Marshes.

The story is told of one of the Emperors elite Emu Guards (so named for the feathered caps they wear), some time after the end of the Berlien War, who was so bored on the palace wall at night that he amused his fellows by lighting his own farts. The Emperor saw the flash of flames from within his bedchambers. He reacted, not with rage as could be expected, but with what could only be described as fearful, desperate and absolute panic.

Within a half-hour the hapless guard had been summarily executed for firing an explosive device and threatening to bring inherent ruin on the whole empire.

The Emperor met his protestations that he had been amusing his colleagues with a reply that could only be translated as ‘See if they laugh at this!’

His colleagues denied all knowledge of anything mainly because the Emperor had made it quite clear anyone else involved would share his fate. Thus died a man who had been secretly training to become the Emperor’s fool and succeeded if you include the fact the Emperor laughed loud and long (almost hysterically) when his head rolled.

It is odd to contemplate that this all began with an Arrien burrun that a mad wizard thought was the champion of light, but to understand that you need to understand the Berlien War from its beginnings.

That’s the problem of course since events run in a continuous stream without beginning or end. Where one chooses to begin is really from a middle of a saga to end at the middle of another.

Some time before the major events of the war itself a young Arrien burrun saved the life of a brown coloured goanna. It was covered in blood from the attack of several kookaburras but it was not all his own. Because of his scars and strange brown colouring the little burrun named the goanna Grunge.

For some years Grunge remained with the burrun as the young fellow grew to adulthood, even after he lost his parents in a cave in when they were getting silver to make their jewellery in a deep mine of the mountains. One day however the goanna disappeared and the burrun could not find him.

He did not understand that sometimes goannas are not goannas. In fact sometimes a lot of things are not what they seem to be. Things get a little confusing especially when wizards or magic or the Dreamtime spirits get involved as well.

Burrun Napping

Hermian shut up his jewellery shop early. Trade that day was unusually slow. His only customers were Denzo, one of the local gunyas of Arrien and Dwain, his good friend of the village militia.

The militia consisted of young burrun who acted as local police, firemen and any other civic duty the town needed and they also trained for war but Arrien burrun had not gone to war for a very long time. War was essentially bad for trade and being one of the combatants was especially bad for trade but a war somewhere by someone else was good for trade.

That very morning, the Captain of the Arrien guard, a tough burrun who used to be one of the Worrigal’s personal Golden Boomerang Guards, literally kicked Hermian out of the Militia. The little jeweller still smarted from the harsh words of the Captain; ‘the most useless bloomin’ burrun any bloody Cap’n was ever lumbered with.’ Hermian was yelled at in front of the whole guard in that way, which he thought extremely unjust. It put him in a foul mood for the rest of the day as one might expect from such treatment.

Good friends from their youth even Dwain’s consoling words were of little comfort; ‘S’all right Hermi, after all, it’s not as if you’re missing much with all that drilling and marching and yelling from the Cap’n eh?’

‘Do you know anyone else booted out?’ Hermian spoke in Arrien, the common language of Arrien gunyas and burrun though it was more usual in the Militia to speak Burrungima, a harsher and more guttural language.

‘Don’t mean there aren’t any.’ Dwain grinned. Hermian was not in the mood to be reasonable, to Dwain or anyone else.

‘Only old Danni’ Hermian snorted and threw the silver bracelet he was holding back onto his counter, ‘’N that was cos he was drunk all the time. So there you are. I might as well get drunk and stay that way.’

Dwain started to reply but Hermian was not in the mood. He pushed his good friend out of his shop. That was when Denzo entered.

News moved quickly in Arrien, he knew that Hermian had been booted out of the militia. But being a gunya he also thought it was very amusing. Only burrun wanted to be in the local militia whereas Arrien gunyas were usually more the sort to be running from a gaol rather than running one or putting anyone else into one. But he thought he could sense an opportunity for a bargain when he saw one. Gunyas are not always good at picking the right moment.

He walked along the streets of weatherboard buildings. There were few stone structures in Arrien and no locks. Most windows had wood shutters as glass was both expensive and rare. It was also forbidden by the Worrigal of Burrungima. Only royal palaces were allowed to have glass, mostly coloured.

Arrien made up for the lack of coloured glass by painting the shutters according to function. A jeweller was light blue; a butcher was scarlet while a fisher was deep blue. The doors were painted whatever the owner liked. Hermian’s door was painted a bright yellow. The signboards that normally hung above his shop were yellow with black writing. Denzo entered the yellow door.

He no sooner began to haggle over the price of a nice brooch on display than he found himself outside on the street with the door slammed in his face. Hermian shut up shop early. The air was a little chilly with the offshore breeze. In the distance he could hear sea birds making their last calls as they settled for the night.

Since the fun ended before it could even begin Denzo was about to go home when he saw another gunya emerge from the shadows, one who he didn’t recognise at all. This fellow was dressed in a grey tunic and a large hood and acting very oddly.

He was small with the slight build and moon face of Arrien Gunyas. His height was average, being just about one metre (3 and a half feet) tall. It was difficult to see a lot about the strange fellow but what Denzo could see did not look as it should if he was a local or recently returned from walkabout.

The stranger kept out of sight in the shadows as he beckoned to Denzo with a small wave of his hand and a hissing ‘Pssst’. None of which reassured the Arrien gunya farmer.

‘Bugger off mate!’ Denzo spoke loudly back to what, he assumed, was an aggressive Braille gunya because he couldn’t see him very well. He turned to go but it just seemed odd, very odd.

‘How would a Braille gunya get past the burrun army and then the Militia into Arrien?’ Once the thought came Denzo could not deny his curiosity but he couldn’t leave anyway as the newcomer swiftly moved to stand in his way. Denzo was reluctantly pulled back into the shadows. ‘Oi’ he shouted as he was pushed quickly backwards by the newcomer.

He became alarmed when he realised the stranger was holding the hilt of a scimitar with his left hand. Odder still was that he could now see this stranger was an Arrien gunya but not one Denzo ever met before. The scimitar was still sheathed but Denzo experienced visions of having his head removed from his shoulders.

Now that he could see the gunya’s face something else seemed odd. Not only was he an Arrien that Denzo did not know, there were no bars across his top lip. In the fading light Denzo detected no iron bars stretched from studs in the cheek on either side, or copper or gold or silver or brass or tin or… Well there just weren’t any and even Braille gunyas placed bars across their top lip to signify their status. All civilised gunyas did.

He felt the two copper bars just under his nose he wore as the badge of a farmer. His father used the brass of a man of property who returned from walkabout. This gunya used no gold bars of a wealthy gunya or the silver ones of an elder. He couldn’t see the fellow’s ears but he was willing to bet the lobes had not been stretched to insert copper, brass, gold or silver coins either.

The stranger was mature enough that he should have been given a coming of age ceremony when the cheek studs were inserted and the lobes slit. He should have some type of bars and he should have coins in his ear lobes. In Denzo’s experience, limited as it was, no gunya whether in Braille or Arrien lacked bars or coins. That was, no one until now.

Denzo’s eyes looked into the stranger’s face but there was no sign of any emotion there. The odd gunya stared back at Denzo as the town gunya unconsciously fingered his copper bars and touched the copper coins in his ear lobes

‘What d’yer want?’ Denzo wasn’t sure he would get an answer.

The strange gunya looked around. ‘I’m looking for the shop of Hermian the silversmith’.

He spoke in a low quiet voice. Despite his fear Denzo couldn’t resist being cheeky. What gunya can after all?

‘Well read the shop signs. What d’yer reckon they’re for then?’

Denzo suddenly wondered, maybe this weird heathen gunya couldn’t read but the stranger pointed up at the shop boards. There had been a wild storm recently, with predictions of even worse on the way by the weather scryers in town. In fact they were predicting the imminent arrival of the Gatherer, the huge storm that came every 100 years or so. But what did they know? They were always wrong anyway.

He followed the strangers pointing finger. Most of the shop signs were blown off in the winds. There wasn’t the usual yellow one above Hermian’s shop so the stranger couldn’t know it was his.

‘Oh!’ Denzo looked up at the slightly taller stranger. ‘Look mate, Hermian has shut up shop anyway so you come and see him tomorrow eh?’

The stranger shook his head. ‘Tell me which one’

Denzo was feeling more and more wary of this stranger. He didn’t like many burrun but the Arrien ones lived peaceably with Arrien gunyas and had for centuries, besides he liked Hermian. The jeweller gave fair prices and didn’t try to cheat unreasonably. He wasn’t about to hand him over to be hurt by some mad weird gunya. Denzo was starting to think this was a wild gunya from the Eldrien Mountains across the sea. Those savages were unfriendly to everybody, even other wild gunyas.

‘I forget!’ Denzo looked around to see if help was nearby. ‘You come back in the morning. The shop signs will be back then.’

The stranger opened and closed his fingers around the hilt of his scimitar. It was too much for the peace loving Denzo who wouldn’t fight a mouse for cheese. Despite all his instincts to never inform on anyone to the Militia he ran down the street yelling. ‘Murder. Mayhem. Hermian’s in trouble! Call out the Militia.’

The strange gunya swore quietly. He looked at the door Denzo had come out of. He looked at the light blue shutters. It was the colour for the right trade at least. He decided to go in there. He tried the door and was surprised to find it was unlocked. There was no way he could know that no door was ever locked in Arrien. There was no crime as others thought of crime and almost no theft. Their worst trouble was when burrun or gunya got drunk, broke a few shutters and, worst of all, sang loudly walking down the streets. (This was also annoying because they often forgot the words or filled the gaps with bawdy references and so on usually about someone’s mother with someone else’s father).

The stranger looked up the street to see burrun Militia gathering around Denzo. He slipped inside quickly. Being a gunya he didn’t need much time for his eyes to adjust from the gloom outside to the light inside. His eyes saw in the ultra violet spectrum as did those of most gunyas although that meant he was colour blind which a burrun was not. It also gave him sharp night vision. After blinking quickly his eyes adjusted within a second or two and saw the burrun jeweller standing beside the shop counter.

Hermian heard his door open and close but he felt the cold breeze in any case. Like all inhabitants of Arrien his door was never locked. Shutting and putting out a closed sign was enough for Arrien residents, gunyas and burrun alike. The young burrun thought someone simply hadn’t read his closed sign until he saw who entered.

In the light of the shop the gunya stranger appeared to be some sort of wild Arrien gunya despite the grey cloak he wore. He was the same slender build of Arrien gunyas and the same lighter skin, not swarthy skinned or short and broad as Braille gunyas were. He also noticed the absence of bars under the gunya’s nose.

He was not frightened since Arrien gunyas and Arrien burrun were part of a long tradition going back centuries. As far as anyone knew they lived together ever since being driven out of their homelands by Hildar tribesmen. They escaped to Burrungima and occupied the Arrien area from which they both now took their name.

Hermian knew Burrungima burrun never welcomed gunyas in their land. They were forbidden to own land by Burrungima law. They got around this in Arrien by burrun perpetually leasing land to Arrien gunyas. Every now and then a gunya family would decide to go walkabout, to go roaming. It was for this reason Hermian was not alarmed.

Gunyas would sell their land lease to another gunya or back to the burrun who nominally owned the land. Then they would purchase as many jewels as they could afford in order to preserve or build on their personal wealth. A generation or so later the family would return, sell their jewels with any more they gathered on their travels and purchase perpetual leasehold to settle down and farm for a generation or two. Only Arrien gunyas understood why they did this or when they would leave. To outsiders and even to Arrien burrun it was a complete mystery.

However both Arrien gunyas and burrun liked the arrangement. The perpetual leases gave the burrun a profit. The gunyas were able to wander when they wished and return to settle down when they wished. The jewellers of Arrien, such as Hermian, conducted a regular, very profitable, trade converting cash for lease sales into jewels and back again when the family returned. The Worrigal’s laws refusing gunyas ownership of land were respected as far as the Arrien were concerned. Culturally it suited both races in Arrien.

Hermian assumed this was the representative of a wandering family that returned after a generation or two. It had been a while since he did such a trade but Hermian knew such a family would have many jewels to sell. His thoughts of profit stopped him being outright rude. However he was still not in a mood to bargain at that time.

‘I’m sorry mate,’ He began in the casual Arrien way of addressing one another, ‘but I’ve closed for the night. You’ve left it a little late to trade tonight, how about first thing tomorrow?’

The gunya walked to his window. Hermian couldn’t see anything outside. The gunya seemed worried. He turned back to Hermian.

‘Are you Hermian the jeweller?’ he asked in a quiet voice. Not quite a whisper but not loud either. He kept glancing nervously outside.

Hermian was confused until he remembered a bad storm swept away most of the shop signs in Arrien two days ago. He began to explain to the stranger.

‘Ah yes, that’s me, the best jeweller in Arrien. Got my trade from my father and he from hi…’

The stranger sprang forward as soon as he confirmed who he was.

‘We’ve got to leave in a hurry!’

The gunya moved quickly towards Hermian. Hermian drew himself up to his full height imperiously. Even though he was over a head taller than the gunya it made less effect than he could have wished. He puffed out his barrel chest and flexed his thick arms. Like all burrun he was about five and a half feet tall, very heavily built with solid legs and arms. Not tall for some races but taller than a gunya four and a half feet and much more heavily built. ‘You might have to mate, but I’ve got a business to tidy up for the day.’

Hermian stepped backwards as the stranger pulled out a scimitar. He was surprised at the sight of an Arrien carrying a Braille weapon. Arrien gunyas never went armed with anything more than a small hunting bow and a sharp skinning knife and then never in town. Despite that the burrun did not believe he was in serious danger. He was much stronger than the gunya and bigger. Hermian decided to try to scare off his attacker.

‘I warn you. I’ve trained with the Militia. You leave quietly and no one gets hurt.’

‘You come with me quietly and you won’t get hurt!’ The stranger stared unsmiling at Hermian but still spoke almost in a whisper, ‘I don’t have time for talk, wish I did, but one of your locals has ruined that now.’

‘What local? Ruined what? I’m not going with you anywhere.’

Hermian stepped away from his counter. He used all the defensive manoeuvres the Cap’n taught him. As he did the gunya moved more swiftly than he could anticipate. He looked around just as the flat of the blade struck him across his forehead. As he fell he thought he could hear the shouts of the Cap’n and the rest of the Militia. After that he was unconscious.

*     *     *

Dimly Hermian became aware of sounds around him and of bright light. He was aware of weird wailing noises which confused him until he realised they were caused by wind blowing through large she-oak trees. Slowly, with his head throbbing, Hermian opened his eyes.

Above him was clear blue sky and bright daylight that caused him to blink. His vision soon cleared to the normal sharp coloured vision of a burrun in the daytime. His ears soon began to pick up sounds with burrun clarity. Far off he could hear animals snuffling in the grass. Probably bush pigs, he thought, too big for possums or black bush devils. It could be a moular, the marsupial lion that always hunted alone but he didn’t think so.

There was the smell of eucalypts in the air with the added smell of forest leaves on the ground and the sound of bees in the gum tree flowers. He could smell the rotting smell of dead wood overgrown with creeper and filled with fungi. By all the smells he realised he must be up in the mountains. The smells were familiar to him.

Eventually he became aware of the crackling noises of a fire. His nose, even though it was large and bulbous as most burrun noses and nowhere as keen as a gunya’s, smelt meat cooking over a fire. He looked at the sky and groaned. As he did a gunya face loomed over him. He sat upright quickly bringing arms up to defend himself, only to immediately regret it as his head swam with dizziness.

‘You’ve bushwhacked me!’ he mumbled indistinctly. Even to the gunya’s sharp ears it sounded like ‘oof ooshnacked ee!’ which didn’t make sense at all.

Hermian waited a few minutes until his head cleared and he could stand. He turned to face the gunya, only to discover there were several of them, including the one who hit him.

‘You’ve bushwhacked me!’ he stamped a foot as he spoke. The sight of the burrun stamping his thick leg and big feet on the ground made them smile.

‘From town?’ the quiet gunya pulled a sorrowful face, to the immediate merriment of several others Hermian noticed around the fire. Hermian noticed the rocks in a ring around it. It was a common fire ground for those travelling the track. He was sure he knew where it was but his sense of direction was confused by his dizziness.

‘You damn well kidnapped me then.’ Hermian crossed his arms over his chest and stared defiantly at the gunyas.

‘How about burrun napped?’ One of the other gunyas, a female, giggled in the hyena type laugh of the gunya. It started the others laughing as well much to Hermian’s displeasure.

‘How about caught a burrun napping?’ another, a male, laughed.

Well how about burrun sacking?’ another male asked. ‘After all he was like a sack up until now. Big heavy bugger took all of us to carry him.’ All of the gunyas laughed together, as Hermian became more and redder faced especially when the gunya said ‘slung under a pole’.

‘He’s going to blow a foofle valve’ the female said which got them all laughing louder.

Finally, after a few more minutes the banter died down. One of the two females in the group, (Hermian had by now counted twelve gunyas of whom two were