Words Louder than a Thousand Swords: Atror, #1

By Leon Pelgrim

You can have good intentions, but are you right?

 

That is only one of the questions plaguing the altruistic Eldenher, whose genderless race enters a scattered, tribal civilization to unite all races of Atror. However, benevolence isn't Eldenher's only motivation.

 

Their mission may be impossible, although the barbarian Orm attempts to unite warring clans. But what are his true thoughts? A shadowy order of immortals following Eldenher's group wonders the same; they're exasperated with the ruinous ways of the old races—genocide may be the only answer.

 

As tensions mount, the protagonists face life-altering choices, making them question their goals. Will time run out for all protagonists, or will an unfair world discover its utopia...

 

Leon Pelgrim's thrilling narrative transports the reader into a fantastic realm, where the characters are still relatable, as are their circumstances and choices.

 

Words Louder than a Thousand Swords is Book 1 of the imaginative new Atror Epic Fantasy series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leon Pelgrim
• Release date: Dec 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9789083383514

Book preview

Words Louder than a Thousand Swords

Leon Pelgrim

Copyright

Copyright © 2023 L. Pelgrim

The author reserves all rights to be recognized as the owner of this work. You may not sell or reproduce any part of this book without written consent from the copyright owner.

Paperback: ISBN 9789083383507

Ebook: ISBN 9789083383514

www.leonpelgrim.com

Contents

Maps

Regarding Pronouns

Unnamed

Not Alone

Exodus

Hunting the Chieftain’s Challenger

A Chieftain’s Chance

The Merry Race

The Right Reasons; Makol or Orm

Loss of Sunshine

No Way Back

The Main Theories

Progress or Treachery

A Hunter’s Mind

A Home Torn Apart

Priorities

Trust and Distrust

Other-confident

Opposite Paths, One Destination

Coinciding with Isdaro

Intruders or Guests

Loud Voice of Reason

First Encounter

Reciprocity

A New Start

Ancient tracks

Initiative

Striking Entrance

Onset of Expurgation

Restoration of Pride

Logic’s Blind Side

Savoring Unfamiliar Ground

Weighted Choice

Fighting the Unlikely Winner

Handling Victory

Search for the Like-Minded

Bonus Chapter

Author bio

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Regarding Pronouns

A portion of this tale is told from the perspective of a dekdural, a genderless race. You’ll find that genderless beings in this book use a different pronoun instead of the genderless-neutral, singular ‘they’. The pronouns themselves are explained in the narrative but for further clarification and future reference, they are neatly organized in the table below. Even if a person is unfamiliar with different pronouns, the story eases them into getting used to them, and they’re only common in one perspective. Within a few of those chapters, it’ll feel as if it’s simply a new part of language. Even more, the small trouble is shared in the story, as the dekdural struggle with getting used to the differentiation in pronouns between genders that we find all too common. Hopefully, this extra information proves beneficial as you set out on this journey.

Table of pronouns:

. Male: Female: Genderless: Plural/Neutral:

Subject: He She Ae They

Possessive: His Her Aer Their

Object: Him Her Aen Them

Unnamed

My gift was meant to create, but instead it led to destruction.

Our purpose of existence, in which I still truly believe, holds sway over my every thought. I wish you were still here, my dear friend. You could help us greatly in molding Atror according to our vision.

Shortly, our most ambitious plan yet will be set into motion, helping the world take a tremendous leap forward, I hope. Or perhaps the supposed harbingers of change will turn out like those who hurt you, or like those whom I, out of vengeance, unleashed upon the world. Or maybe they’ll clash fatally with this continuously rising Yukard clan. The uncertainty of the matter gnaws at my sanity.

If only you were here to keep me company. I’m getting cold.

The creature kept still in the gloom of the cave, ignoring the letter. As always, there was no response.

Not Alone

Mura of the Mejonor

Mura raised a throwing axe, her narrowed eyes focused on the still rabbit, upright on its hind legs. The wind rattling branches and flinging leaves did not distract her in the slightest, but something else did. Why is the little pest so close to our village, yet immobile? It should be in its burrow, or scurrying around, wary of predators. This is too easy. She frowned, then chuckled at her own paranoia. I’ve listened too much to that madman. She held her breath, took aim, and hurled the axe. It spun through the air and hit the rabbit on its side. The critter fell dead, same as any other animal struck by wicked iron would.

Mura sighed, treading softly over the leaf-carpeted forest floor to retrieve her axe. She bound up the rabbit with rope and slung it over her back, letting it rest on her umber animal hide. She still found that the rabbit had behaved strangely, but at least she had quickly completed the task the chieftain had assigned her. Soon, she could get back to devising new traps, making her hunter chores even easier. First, she would return to Druvar, her clan and village.

The massive tree trunks around her and their dense canopy normally left little space open to view the sky, yet now most of their leaves had fallen and through the naked branches Mura could see the gray, looming clouds. There was a small, black blot amid the clouds; it was moving westward. She cocked her head, her eyes now slits. The contour of flapping wings became clearer.

That didn’t come as a surprise. It was a bird of some kind—what else? But the span of those wings caught her attention; they were massive, which meant this creature had to be enormous, of inconceivable size. Her jaw dropped open, involuntarily. She was having trouble gauging how high the animal was flying, and wondered whether her eyes weren’t tricking her into imagining it was bigger than it actually might be. If her estimation was correct, this creature was larger than a tree, far bigger than any living thing she’d ever seen. A monster.

She laughed. Several unbelievable stories had been passed down among the mejonor, about swamp monsters that could control the wind and about giants that had lived long ago. But most of those were considered legends for children. Monsters didn’t really exist. Until now? Why should she of all the mejonor be destined to find or hunt one of those? It had to be her eyes playing tricks, or the swaying branches distorting her vision. Only mejonor and normal animals existed in this world. Not monsters

The flying creature had moved out of sight. Mura shook her head. She was no legend, herself, but everyone did say she was a great hunter with even more promise, even if she was only second-best, after that maniac who would talk to no one except her, unfortunately. Yet now, just one thought dominated her mind. The mysterious bird... I want to hunt it. And why shouldn’t I?

She was still hatching a plan for hunting down the large bird when she entered Druvar. Thirty or forty wood and stone houses stood amid dense vegetation, obscuring the clan from unwanted visitors. Trails of smoke rose from cooking fires in the open; several of her clan, wearing rags and hides, sat around these. Others, clad similarly, attended to other business. Children scampered around, fighting with sticks, while some of the adults cheered them on, laying wagers of food, rare animal teeth, or jewels on the kids’ abilities. A smile crept upon Mura’s face. Home.

Today was like almost any other day—humdrum, unhurried. No one seemed to have noticed the large bird, or perhaps they did but thought nothing of it. This became even more apparent as she saw, further ahead, Drest loudly telling, almost bellowing, one of his extravagantly exaggerated stories. The broad, muscular warrior was boasting about killing a man as if he had single-handedly created a new Swordfield—one of those fields in Verdoth where major battles had taken place, riddled with hundreds or thousands of swords. One of the three most significant was Atror’s Slash, with an inexplicable ravine in the middle whose origin had at best dubious claims from the surrounding villages. She had always wanted to get to the bottom of what happened there.

Mura pretended to throw up as she neared the audience. Yet Drest was their strongest warrior, and the others around him laughed and slapped his shoulders in admiration.

She sighed. He’s not doing anyone any harm. Ignoring the small group, she went looking for Urok, the Druvar chieftain. Urok was notorious for showing up anywhere in the village, presumably at random, though that did make him very approachable.

Several minutes later, Mura found the chieftain lying calmly on the ground, resting his back and head against one of the central village houses. Urok had passed the age of fifty, and his thinning gray hair bore witness. Perhaps in five years or so his son, Gund, would become chieftain, and their line would continue as it had done for over two hundred years.

She presented the rabbit. Here is your lunch, my-oh-so honorable chieftain.

Sorry, child. Urok grinned. But chores are chores.

Mura was already twenty-five, but she never minded Urok’s avuncular. At least she had a father figure.

Urok continued. "My bones and muscles deteriorate faster than those of my father.

If only that won’t be so for Gund. It’s this way of life we all have."

Mura raised one corner of her mouth. Perhaps we should change the succession plan. I’d be game for the position.

Urok looked up and met her eyes. His lips curled upward. Well, of all women, you’d be the first one I’d choose. But I don’t think the men in our village, or other clans, would look kindly on such a change. Drest would probably laugh himself to death at a woman in charge... or rebel, forthwith.

She snorted. Fuck Drest.

Urok laughed. Do what you got to do. He got up slowly, took the rabbit, and ambled over to one of the cookfires.

Mura lifted her eyebrows, not knowing what to do with such a reaction. Once back home, she grabbed her tools and marched outside, to resume work on a new contraption with a net that she’d been fabricating in her mind earlier. She tried to affix strong hooks to the net, so she could throw it over the large flying creature and then try and bind it. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Twenty minutes later, a trembling at the west of the village broke her concentration. She looked up, focusing on the sound and peering at the houses. The trembling increased. It didn’t come from the village, as she had first imagined, but from the forest. Her brow furrowed. What in Atror can it be?

She stood up and cautiously approached the thickets of redberry bushes and broadleaf trees that hid the village from sight. The strong wind was sweeping yellow and brown leaves off the trees as if Atror was childishly flinging them around. The trembling rose again. This time it was like a continuous rumble coming toward them. Mura stepped backward, scanning for any stirring in the vegetation other than the wind.

A pack of white manlike creatures erupted from the woods, clamoring as they stormed toward the village.

Mura gasped, backpedaling rapidly. An attack! What the fuck are these? These weren’t mejonor; these were... something else. Their skin was white—not white as some called a mejonor’s light skin, but true white, like snow falling in the mountains faraway. Even these creatures’ body hair, of which it had plenty, was white. They weren’t very broad or muscular but had long arms with even an extra joint. Their broad, square faces looked menacing, with short, crimson mohawks on their pates. Their eyeballs were ringed by a dark color, a charcoal shade, and their irises were emerald green.

Mura’s heart palpitated as she stopped staring and scrambled toward the village. With quickened breath, she ran away from the attacking brutes. There were ten of them, all armed, and some also holding torches.

She sprinted into the village, eyes wide with alarm. An attack! It’s an attack! she yelled. Get your weapons!

She didn’t even pause to think if her shouting was necessary, what with the horrible battle cries that the white invaders were unleashing, but she’d try anything. Druvar men and a couple of women had hastily snatched up their weapons and formed a defensive line of about twenty warriors. Mura sprinted past them to her house to gather her weapons. She scooped up her battle axe and some of her smaller axes, then turned swiftly and raced back into the fray.

The white, enraged attackers were in full sprint, far closer to the defensive line than her. Their short noses were more like snouts, making them look bestial. Weirdly enough, they also ran nearly crouched, hanging low to the ground as if not fully erect. Their faces lacked any sign of intelligence, yet they did sport light brown loincloths, and each one carried a weapon with a steel handle and a spiked ball on top.

The creatures smashed into the defensive line.

The first white creature slung one long arm holding the spiked ball weapon forward with great speed. It crashed against the sword of Obor, one of the stronger men of the village, who had a perfect stance and great muscles to support his block. The strike connected, and Obor was thrown backward and up into the air, to crash down several steps away.

Mura’s mouth was agape. Such strength... Impossible! She nearly dropped her weapons in shock, then quickly tightened her grip on them. She took two steps forward, then froze again. The entire defensive line was obliterated in seconds, with bodies tossed left and right. One woman was smart and fast enough to duck the blow. Her attacker’s weapon crashed into a stone house, pulverizing some of the bricks and leaving a gaping hole. The woman swung her sword against the creature. The sword hit its shoulder, yet it barely sliced through the creature’s skin. The creature grunted, before grabbing the woman’s wrist and preparing another strike. This time the spiked ball crunched into the woman’s side, breaking her ribcage. She let out an agonized shriek and fell dead.

The white creatures were running amok. They charged around, slaughtering anyone who came into sight. Chaos erupted around Mura as the Druvar warriors tried desperately to resist. Men and women ran for their lives, shrieking in terror. Children cried and screamed for their mothers, but neither were spared. A father with a babe in his arms caught a blow on his body, leaving his child weeping on his bleeding chest. A pregnant woman was about to get hit, but Mura turned away, appalled, before she could see the end of it. Two of the white creatures ran toward her. Her muscles tensed. Almost instinctively, she grabbed the net she had been working on and threw it over her attackers. It wouldn’t stop them for long, but at least it would give her time to flee. The attackers were caught in the net, and as they struggled to get out, Mura thought she noticed something. But she didn’t stop to investigate. Instead, she ran to the edge of the village, hoping to rally with whoever was left of the warriors.

But how can we even resist this?

Now that she was away from those freaks, she realized what felt off, further off, about the creatures. They were all the same as each other; identical! They had the exact same height and same build. Only their hair was perhaps slightly longer or shorter than one another’s, but that was all. How can that be? Not even animals are exactly alike. Moreover, the attackers were all male, and each one had a dark spot on the back of their head. A tattoo. The skin seemed to weirdly overlap there, and it seemed the tattoo was to hide that fact. Her eyes hadn’t missed it.

The screaming behind her continued, as did the sounds of houses being demolished. A burning smell irritated her nose as she sprinted toward a group of Druvars. With quickened breath, she reached the edge of town where fifteen warriors, including Drest and Gund, had gathered. They’re all identical! she shouted, pointing in the direction of the mayhem.

Big fucking help that is, Drest scowled. Sweat dripped down his forehead and the hand holding his axe trembled.

We need to charge in quickly! Gund said.

It’s of no use! Drest shook his head, looking stunned. These fuckers rip through stone as if it’s bread!

Mura frowned. Is he really all talk? Just as she was about to say something, she noticed something behind Drest—something creeping around in the forest. It wasn’t one of those white creatures... It was as if the leaves themselves were wandering. She narrowed her eyes, waiting, watching.

A pair of eyes stared back at her, a pair she recognized as belonging to Greol of Yukard, known as the best hunter on the continent, a madman. What is he doing here?! Is the Yukard clan behind this? Has that warmongering chieftain Makol sent these...creatures to kill us? Even if they somehow could, this is cruel even by their standards. Besides brown rags, Greol wore a hooded brown-gray robe of lightweight animal hide. Parts of it were painted green as if leaves had fallen on it, which was why it was so hard to perceive him. His skin also seemed darker than most, probably because of his dislike of washing. For a second, she considered chasing Greol. But he disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared, and she decided the immediate threat required her attention many times more.

I just saw Greol fleeing in the forest. Could Yukard have anything to do with this? she asked, her gaze on the white creatures.

No clue, Gund said, gripping his sword with both hands. Let’s just get these monsters and save our village in one strong counterattack. We have to. Mura, go around the left side and outflank them. Drest, you take the right side. If it’s only one from each side, you might surprise them. Gund spoke with impressive authority.

He’ll make a fine leader, Mura thought. Or might if we survive this. It would’ve been great to ask another clan for help. Yet they had no allied clans. No clan had. Clans working together was considered by their whole race as viler than killing, which, granted, wasn’t that big of a crime. She nodded and prepared to go.

I’ll go catch this Greol! Drest said, and he ran in a random direction into the forest before anyone else could react.

Gund looked backward, and scoffed. I always knew he was a coward. He turned forward, to his compatriots. Jona, you go right. Warriors of Druvar! Charge! With that shout, he charged forward, and the rest followed him without hesitation.

Mura sprinted to the left side of the village, where the creatures had come from. The village was on fire now. What did we do to deserve this? Yet, she could still save lives. There weren’t many attackers—killing even one might make a huge difference. She sneaked as quickly as she could behind the houses. One of the white creatures was banging on a wall with its weapon. Mura’s eyebrows knit in thought. What is with that spiked ball? Even steel would break, or at least get blunt, from such strikes. Yet this weapon did not seem to lose its edge in the slightest, and it continued to crush the rocks. From behind the wall came screams. The creature was quite far from her, and the other warriors would approach him first. She continued crouching behind another house.

They’re quite effective. If ten veindrur can do this to one clan, imagine what our army can do. A broad man in shiny black armor, towering more than two heads over even the tallest man she’d ever seen, stood on the grass in front of Druvar stroking his chin. They’ll need more discipline, though. I just need to convince the others to act, even the one with his damn plants.

Mura’s lips parted. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the man, not only because of his abnormal size but also because of the dark gray skin on his face, which didn’t have a blemish on it. The man was without a doubt menacing, but also something more. His entire figure seemed...flawless. Wholly symmetrical. Perfect. He was the fairest person she’d ever seen. Despite the danger the man exuded, she was mesmerized, as if this figure were radiating in the sunlight—or was it darker?

She shook her head, then frowned. Who is that? What is he talking about? This man seemed way too casual. More importantly, he seemed to be in charge, somewhat. Perhaps if I kill him, I can end this. She grabbed one of her axes.

Another woman in her village was being ripped apart by one of the white creatures. She expected the giant to nod approvingly; instead, he pursed his lips and briefly looked downward, as if averting his gaze. He’s troubled by the butchery? Mura wondered. But he seems to be in charge. What the fuck.

No matter. The man still seemed to be the attackers’ leader. More importantly, he hadn’t noticed her, being occupied by the battle. She could end this. She raised a throwing axe, held her breath, took aim, and threw. The axe spun through the air. It hit the man full on his chest.

And it bounced off.

Mura gasped. Metal?! He’d found a way to turn metal into armor instead of a weapon! It must weigh a ton. How to defeat a thing like this? She should’ve aimed for his head, which was left unprotected. Her target blinked rapidly twice and looked down at the axe at his feet. To Mura’s right side, the white creature that had been banging on the wall earlier now swung his weapon against Gund. Gund held his sword defensively, and the spiked ball weapon bounced back. Both the creature and Gund cocked their heads. Gund attacked, and the creature defended for the first time.

Meanwhile, the tall man calmly picked up the fallen axe, his lips twitching in irritation. I’ve underestimated this pest. That will be the last time. His voice was rough, almost gravelly.

Gund continued to fight with the white creature. It swung its weapon again, and this time it tossed Gund back as it had done to others before him. Gund smacked heavily into a wall, then drooped toward the ground, lying unmoving. Mura gasped. Not Gund as well... We’re doomed!

The man continued to speak to what seemed himself, looking at the axe. This entire race has failed itself and the world. Better be rid of it, purge the entire continent... What a cruel necessity.

Mura froze. Wait. Our clan wasn’t the target? All mejonor are? He said this race... As if there are more... Where do this man and his creatures come from? She grabbed another axe and turned again to aim it at the man.

He was gazing right at her, an icy stare that made her shiver. The whole village, the large bird, Greol—everything was forgotten. Only one thought remained. Run.

She stood up straight, ready to leave. The man set his feet apart, then with one push against the ground dashed toward her, faster than anything she’d ever seen. He was a blur of motion before his dark gray face covered her entire field of vision. The punch hit her in the stomach, crunching her ribs. She screamed, both from the pain and from the terror, and fell to the ground, clutching her side.

He grunted. So you break even with that measly punch. I’m glad I didn’t overdo it. You there, just in case you lived with regret, that axe wouldn’t have harmed me even if you’d aimed for my head. My skin is too strong. I say that as an apology and out of respect, one warrior to another. This was no fair fight at all. The man let out a long breath. With no witnesses left, today will have no consequences. I wish you could forgive me for this barbaric act, but you have no forgiveness to offer. Your kind has no forgiveness. Maybe Atror will forgive me while I carry this wound with me. Now, it is time.

Mura groaned. She knew several bones were broken. This asshole acts as if we should feel sorry for him for killing us! Who is he?! Why is he doing this and what is his plan?

The man grabbed her head with his large gauntlet. It was cold on her skin. He lifted her into the air, her body suspended above the ground. She screamed in spite of herself. It was over for her. The village... What will happen to it? That coward Drest has escaped. Hopefully, he’ll be tortured to death. Yet Drest is a witness that this man doesn’t know about... It can ruin this man’s plans, whatever they are, but they must be stopped... And yes, there’s another witness—Greol. Greol, of all possible mejonor and hunters... He must spread word and find a way to stop this creep and his weird monsters. Our entire race is in danger, or maybe even more! Greol has—

With his fingers spread over her face, the man started pressing. Her skull started to crack. She stopped screaming and her body became limp as her skull splintered into fragments.

Unnamed

"Some might call our small order almighty, but how to define such a thing?

"We cannot control others, nor can we shift the current of the sea or shape Atror. Well, all three of those are within the realm of possibilities one way or another. Together, we possess unimaginable strength, can bend nature to our will, have incredible mental power, and more. Does that make us almighty?

For sure, we can considerably influence the path Atror takes. I think Atror meant it that way, for our strength cannot be replicated, except on a tiny scale, as far as our experiments have led us anyway. Does that mean it’s all up to us? But we remain mere beings, and we aren’t omniscient. What of the races and their own free will? Are we justified in judging them for what they’ve done and haven’t done? Do the powers we believe are given to us by Atror mean we are fit to judge? It feels uncomfortable to be in this position, although others argue that very feeling makes us right.

The creature stared emotionlessly with his onyx-colored eyes at the brown wall of the cave, at the slowly dripping water. As always, there was no response.

Exodus

Eldenher of the Dekdural

The best wishes of the world to the both of you. I can’t express how happy I am to witness your conjoining at the onset of our long-awaited quest. Sporting a broad smile, Galdanher, one of the Wise, congratulated the new couple enthusiastically with both hands as the wooden deck rose and sank.

From a few steps away, Eldenher nodded repeatedly with lips curled in a warm smile, watching the brief ceremony. Our race is finally done preparing for centuries. That reminder should bring the couple even more joy. It’s kind of Galdanher to mention it. Ae’s perfectly suited for this position. Eldenher paused and looked downward, grunting. "Ae... I’m way too accustomed to using ‘ae’. We must switch pronouns when we arrive. I know that only we as a genderless race can refer to each other singularly with ‘ae’ instead of he, she, or they."

"If we arrive," Midrenher, Eldenher’s best friend, pointed out.

Eldenher frowned. That’s pessimistic.

We’ve never gone this far from home, not even nearly. We still have weeks to go, only have maps over a thousand years old, and must survive the sea and Atror’s weather with all of our ships. It’s not pessimistic thinking, just realistic. We’re not all thinking in your manner, my dear friend. Midrenher winked, clasping Eldenher’s shoulder. Midrenher’s skin was as gray as the ominous-looking clouds looming above them, as gray as Eldenher’s, as gray as every dekdural.

Eldenher chuckled. If only the world were so lucky, ae said, jokingly. Going on with my practice; we use aer for possessive, but other races, that have males and females, use his or her. I’m sure of that. But... Eldenher stroked aer chin. When we use aen, don’t they use him or her? Ae grunted. Why can’t I get this? This is so frustrating.

A sigh from next to aen. Give yourself a break, Midrenher said. At this point, only you expect these high standards from yourself.

Eldenher crossed aer arms. But when we make it to the continent of the mejonor—

Again, if we get there, Midrenher interrupted. We may have to go back. If that’ll be a possibility at all...

Eldenher sighed. "I don’t want to...I can’t imagine any of that. But okay, when or if we make it to the continent of the mejonor, I certainly can’t afford to make any mistakes at all. You know that in my function there’s zero room for error. If I’d insult mejonor, even unwittingly...or if I’d hurt our quest... Ae froze. A shiver ran up aer back, ending with aer bottom lip quivering. Everything, every race, every being, depends on us. Our ancestors took on this task...and we will accomplish it. We have to. I’ll check, again. Ae nodded. I will learn everything, so I can do everything, for everyone, perfectly."

There’s that idealistic side of you again. Midrenher grinned. Although I can very much understand how the pronouns are a challenging change for your position. Ae briefly raised a finger. Though we in general find such distinction unnecessary in language, and complicated, there are interesting arguments about how the differentiation came to be, even old ones from Archguide Lyra herself. Not two days ago, Goher theorized—

I’d love to drink from your well of knowledge another time, my friend, Eldenher interposed with a friendly nod. Ae could be direct with Midrenher and stop long ramblings early on. Eldenher’s elbows rested on a tied-down barrel and aer head rested on aer open hands as the smell of salt teased aer nose. The heaving of the ship increased again, as it had done several times in the past hour.

Eldenher grabbed the barrel tightly and bit aer lip. Was the weather worsening, or was there something in the open sea? How could they even navigate correctly in this open and wild sea? Could all the ships withstand this? Midrenher might be right about the dangerous journey. Will we reach the land of the mejonor? If we don’t, what then?

Midrenher chuckled. Right, right. Us knows us. That works both ways. Ae paused and stared at the continuing conjoining as dark clouds gathered above them. You’d love to stand before Galdanher like them too, wouldn’t you? Ae ran a hand through aer short silver hair, a habit.

Every dekdural Eldenher had met, which was all of them, had either black or silver hair, with the average being shoulder length. Eldenher’s hair was even longer; aer thick, ebony black hair hung in a straight tail halfway down aer back and was held together by two azure tail holders, one at the top and one near the end. The color matched the freckles around aer eyes. Ae only knew a dozen dekdural with freckles, but no one around their eyes. Adding the hair holders, which were like broad bands, in the freckles’ color was the only part ae’d really put effort into for aer appearance.

Other than on top of their head and long thin eyebrows, a dekdural’s rugged skin had no hair growing out of it, which ae would’ve found disgusting. With only animals and descriptions from Lyra to compare it with, since they hadn’t seen any other beings yet, Eldenher had always found every dekdural lean and tall; not muscular, but with sturdy bodies nonetheless. Not that ae felt very sturdy with the increasing height of the waves around them. The storm raged, seemingly without end and propelling heavy gusts in any direction it wished.

Eldenher smiled thinly, nodding. I’d love to have that special someone, and be it for someone else. Maybe I want that nearly as much as contributing to the prime principle. Well, that’s a bit much. It can’t be that much. Isn’t it the same for you?

Midrenher shrugged. For now I enjoy other things. As always, Midrenher looked rather composed, confident in what ae knew but open to what ae didn’t know, while conscious the latter was a lot. Or so Eldenher had always judged aen.

Eldenher nodded. This ceremony... A warm sensation went through aer body. Seeing others in high spirits fills me with such joy. Their happiness gives me energy.

Ae felt Midrenher’s eyes burn on aen, then aer friend nodded several times with lips curled into a smile.

The ship began to rock again, with drops of seawater splashing over them. Eldenher’s stomach rumbled, not agreeing with the violent motions. Aer above-average skill in directing energy didn’t mean aer body was any tougher than others. Ae ignored the rumbling innards. The ceremony reached its far less popular but equally important part.

Galdanher opened aer mouth.

Make way! Two dekdural carrying rope interrupted the ceremony, sprinting from one side of the deck to the other. Certainly, their activity had to do with the vessel’s vigorous heaving and the oncoming storm.

On all sides of the wooden ship the Azulean sea surged, the blue water reaching as far as Eldenher’s eyes could see. Only this ship and three others obstructed the flow of endless waves. The sturdy vessels with large white sails each carried two hundred of their race, which was almost all of their number in existence. Thick ropes held up and strengthened the large timber mast where the mainsail fluttered heavily, catching the strong wind and taking them further. At least three dozen of aer kind worked on deck, either carrying goods, tightening ropes, or making themselves useful in other ways to make sure the ship stayed afloat. This was the first time Eldenher had seen sailors make such haste. It didn’t bode well, though ae trusted in the ships and their sailors.

After waiting patiently, Galdanher cleared aer throat, aer lips flattening. As we all know, I’m to repeat one of the principles on an occasion such as this. Aer voice turned somber, unlike the cheerful air that had permeated aer words earlier. "It’s a lesser one, but ancient and vital nonetheless, stemming from Archguide Lyra herself.

She told us this: ‘Personal attachments may detract from contributing. Decide your own course.’ I take it you’ve both contemplated the words.

Eldenher drew aer lips back. This principle was mostly meant for these times, when we’d ventured out. It hasn’t been tested. The principle exists, and not without reason.

The couple nodded. One of them opened aer mouth. We choose to live together, but only as long as there’s no harm to the all-important goal given to us by Lyra. We’ll strive to achieve the prime principle, together or apart. They looked at each other, smiled passionately, and squeezed each other’s hands.

Eldenher nodded in approval. Wonderfully said of them. There was one particular dekdural who crossed aer own mind many times every day, whose words made aen think deeper, whose every meeting with ae remembered vividly. For years ae tried to have some alone time with aen, but it never worked. Ae tilted aer head, thinking. Keep our race’s goal above my personal goal... I can do that, I think.

Rogue wave! a sailors hollered.

Everyone became silent, turning to look.

Eldenher’s eyes widened. A huge wave approached from the left, larger than the ship itself.

Panic-stricken dekdural ran around, shouting all at once.

Eldenher opened aer mouth wide. By Lyra, we’ll all be swept off the ship! Quick, everyone, grab on to something! Aer heart palpitated.

More dekdural instructed each other. Everyone took shelter where they could. Eldenher crouched and clasped the nearby barrel tighter. So did Midrenher with another one. Parents pressed their children to the deck while holding on to rigging or whatever else was at hand. Eldenher held aer breath.

The wave crashed into them.

The ship was thrown off course, listing sharp right. The rush of water fell over Eldenher and the rest of the ship.

A crack. Something splintered.

The wave passed. The ship hadn’t been knocked on its side, and was righting itself, for now. Eldenher stood up, breathing slowly. How bad is the damage?! Will we stay afloat? Ae looked around, trying to stay with the ship’s rolling. Ae shook aer head, trying to get rid of the dizziness.

Sailors scuttled around, checking for any damage.

Main mast and sail intact! one shouted.

Hull intact! another responded. Ae’d probably received information from others via their transmitting ability.

I’ve found it! a sailor called. That splintering...it’s a part of the railing. It’s been torn apart.

Eldenher sighed in relief. The ship would hold. Have they directed energy to attempt to break the wave? Ae immediately went to help some of the injured dekdural. The newly conjoined couple stood up and ran in different directions to aid those with injuries. Everyone was eager to help their comrades.

Another wave! came the dismayed scream.

Not another one! Then the previous one wasn’t a rogue wave? Eldenher had no time to look at the incoming wave, only to grab a rope leading upward to the main sail, breathing heavily. The ship rocked right again, balancing at a point where it seemed that it was about to tip over. Eldenher hung in the air, clenching the rope tightly. Barrels and other goods rumbled and thudded, sliding across the deck. Ae hoped they wouldn’t cause injuries, but the wave and spray obscured visibility.

The ship righted itself again.

No! Idonher! someone shrieked.

Eldenher saw it happen too. Idonher, only nineteen, was sliding over the deck right toward the gap in the railing, very close to Eldenher. If Idonher were to plunge into this sea, ae’d certainly die.

Eldenher let go of the rope, falling on the deck, and righted aenself. Ae sprinted across toward the falling youth, miraculously maintaining balance.

Too late. Idonher slid through the gap and into the foam.

By Lyra, I won’t have it! Eldenher lunged forward and over the side of the ship, going after Idonher. Ae grabbed a pole of the leftover railing with aer left hand, then stretched aenself, and reached out with aer right hand.

Ae grabbed Idonher’s wrist, bawling to be heard over the roar of the sea and the panic-stricken crew. Idonher! Grab me with both hands! Now! This was no time to sound friendly. Ae’d stretched aenself out as far as ae could and it seemed as if aer muscles would be torn apart by the weight ae had to hold.

I haven’t even helped anyone yet! Idonher shouted as if a last regret. Then ae grunted, latched on Eldenher’s arm, and dragged aenself up. Ae grabbed Eldenher’s wrist with aer other arm too.

If you really want to do that, hold on with all your strength! Eldenher shouted. I know I am. Even at only eighty-five, in the prime of aer life, the strain was telling on Eldenher. Aer muscles were acidifying, ae realized—this couldn’t go on for much longer.

A hand touched aer left wrist, then another, then one more. Above aen, four dekdural had gathered and were grabbing aer arm tightly, among them Midrenher. Eldenher focused aer strength on aer right arm, making sure Idonher wouldn’t slip out of aer grasp.

Hold on, Eldenher and Idonher! Midrenher shouted from the deck.

Slowly, the four dekdural pulled aen upward, and with aen Idonher.

Eldenher was dragged over the side of the boat, and then finally fell on deck. Others who had gathered as well grabbed Idonher the moment they could. Eldenher finally felt the weight was off aer hand and could let go. Aer muscles ached from the exertion. Ae lay flat on the deck, gasping. Idonher had been dragged in and laid out on deck as well.

Eldenher, Idonher said, panting, y-you saved my life.

Eldenher shrugged. You’d have done the same for me. For anyone.

If I could that is... Idonher looked downward. Ae was sitting with aer arms wrapped over aer knees, shaking and puffing, clearly distressed. This could’ve been all I’ve ever done for the prime principle. Nothing.

This could happen to anyone, Midrenher said. Take a breather.

Someone close off this railing, now! a sailor shouted. Now! Patch it up...this isn’t over! We’ll have hours of this, if we’re lucky...

Several dekdural went on to grab planks and nails, while others spread across deck, helping where necessary. The sea continued to rage and rain began to drop down on them. Eldenher put aer hands on the floor to push aenself erect.

A hand touched aer shoulder. Eldenher, you risked your life for another. You didn’t even consider the risk.

It was Galdanher, aer back only very slightly bent from age and the long thin strands of aer silvery hair drifting in the air with every small gust. It was quite the achievement to reach such an age and still look healthy, Eldenher found. And even at two hundred twenty-seven years, Galdanher should have some eighty years left. Eldenher never fully understood how their lifespan kept increasing. Their oldest ancestors only reached the age of seventy-five.

Galdanher continued. You really are our race in person, aren’t you? Our personification. Such altruism...and... Ae paused. Well, let’s hope those other parts are good and right too. I still debate with myself about that.

Eldenher tilted aer head to the side. What does ae mean by that? I don’t know what you mean precisely, but thanks. Can I go...to help? Idonher still looks frail, and there’s much to be done.

Galdanher’s teeth showed a brief grin. So eager! I’ll calm Idonher down. I’ll tell aen the story of us to focus on. That repeated story should do aen, and everyone else, good! We need motivation, to remind ourselves why we do this and how we got here. We each have our own task. Go now.

Eldenher nodded, then went to hold in position some planks by the broken railing, so that others could nail them into place.

Rain poured down on them as if the sky had sprung a major leak, so that soon water was flowing to every corner and down the sides of the deck. If this goes on, how will our ships end up? Eldenher wondered. Ae shook aer head. Let’s just do my part now.

Galdanher stepped up to Idonher and sat down next to aen. A black tunic from handmade dalm covered most of Galdanher’s gray body, similar to everyone’s clothes. Galdanher’s eyes were a bright shade of green, a common color amongst them; Eldenher had them as well. Aer race had eyes either red, green, or the rare blueish gray.

Idonher, just focus on my voice. Galdanher cleared aer throat and began with a grandiose tone. Over fourteen hundred years ago, our ancestors came into being. Right from the beginning, Lyra was already there, as if awaiting our creation. We don’t know what race she belonged to, or where she came from, but she guided us through our first steps, literally teaching our ancestors how to walk, eat, live, and speak. How she knew of us or how we were sprung into existence she never told or simply didn’t know herself. There were less than fifty of our ancestors at that point, and in two years they grew up from primal beings into developed beings. When they had built their first houses on our home Omtegao, Lyra told them the name of our race—the dekdural, the youngest race of Atror—and set them up with a monumental task: saving the other races.

The dark clouds growled as if arguing with the sea, or in correspondence with it. Another huge wave threatened. Eldenher clenched a part of the railing that was still intact from before. Are these waves getting bigger? Ae pressed aer lips together.

The ship rocked. The wave passed. Eldenher

Reviews for Words Louder than a Thousand Swords

[leonpelgrim · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Couldn't have written it better myself. A joy to read and better than the blurb and its terrible marketing. Thrilling, insightful and sometimes humorous.