David Dalglish - Wrath of Lions

The layout of the village followed no particular pattern; there were homes built wherever there was space for them. The whole of the village was now an immensely wide clearing given the fact that most of the trees had been felled to build those many homes. The only true property people had were the shelters in which they lived. All the other land, including the many gardens dotting the landscape, was communal. There was no trade or commerce or coin; every man and woman was a healer, a craftsman, a hunter, a fisherman, a farmer.

The center square-an ample, grassy field near the thin layer of forest bordering the coast-was the only place where construction was prohibited. That square was where the people gathered during times of celebration or mass prayer, when game or large fish were roasted over the great cookfire in the center. It was also where the populace gathered during dire times, of which there had only been three in all of Bardiya’s life. The first was when the decision had been made to respectfully ask the Wardens to leave Ker fifty years before, the second in the aftermath of the deaths of Bessus, Damaspia, and the five others who had perished in the mangold grove, the third to announce the arrival-and acceptance as equals-of a band of refugee Dezren Elves from the Stonewood Forest. It saddened Bardiya to think of the disagreements during that last meeting.

A great many people milled about their homes as he walked through the village, and he spied the Dezren elves lingering around their huts at the far edge of the settlement. When he came to the center square, he found a large gathering of villagers murmuring loudly. They formed a massive semicircle around the firepit, gazing at the newcomers with expectant eyes. Gordo and Tuan stepped aside, allowing Bardiya to walk between them. He found his close friend Ki-Nan Renald, a tall, athletic man of thirty with skin as black as night, standing among the ranks. Bardiya regarded him with a nod. Ki-Nan was good with crowds. If things became unruly, he would help keep everyone calm.

When he reached the center, the mass of humanity shuffled to their feet, closing the circle. They looked so small to him, countless children pleading with him to quell their nightmares. In that moment a feeling of superiority came over him, a sensation he quickly quashed by falling to one knee and hunching over so he could converse with them at eye level. It was a painful position, but that was a small sacrifice to make in the name of equality.

He spoke the words of assembly-“With Ashhur in our hearts, our troubles are met”-and the meeting began.

A pair of identical young men, barely out of their teens, pressed two fingers to their lips, the Kerrian symbol of truthfulness.

“I am Allay Loros,” said one of them.

“And I am Yorn, his brother,” said the other.

“I know you well,” Bardiya told them, gesturing for them to proceed.

Allay cleared his throat. “Five days ago my brother and I were hunting an antelope through the grasslands,” he said, his tone confident yet respectful. “We were near the Gods’ Road, very close to another settlement. The antelope was acting as if it were spooked. We had lanced it with a spear earlier in the day, but still the creature ran without tiring, as if no injury had befallen it.”

“We hid behind an outcropping of stone,” Yorn the twin continued, “and watched it gallop across the road and disappear into the hills. We were about to make pursuit when a great shape walked toward us, dust billowing all around him.”

“It was Ashhur,” said Allay.

“Are you certain?” Bardiya asked.

“As certain as if it were our own father,” Yorn insisted.

“What did he do?”

Yorn said, “He stopped in the middle of the road, where the antelope had disappeared into the forest. He snapped his fingers and it emerged, walking right up to him. Ashhur touched the beast on the nose, and it collapsed dead, right then and there.”

“Then others emerged from the east, so many that the land was swallowed by their ranks. Thousands of them. Perhaps hundreds of thousands-we couldn’t tell. The noise was unbearable. Ashhur handed a group of men the antelope, then called out. A whole school of the beasts appeared from behind us, undaunted by the crowd. All of them were slain by spears, then taken for feasting. After that, Ashhur and a strange-looking man on horseback set off again.”

“Strange looking? How so?” asked Bardiya.

“Strangely shaped,” said Yorn. “Red hair, hunched back, but his arms might have been as big as yours.”

Bardiya nodded. So it had started. Ashhur was gathering his children, and Patrick was with him.

“Did you reveal yourselves?” he asked.

Allay shook his head. “We remained hidden until nightfall, then ran back home.”

“Yet,” said Yorn, “I believe our god saw us. His eyes glanced toward our rock at one point, and I felt all numb inside. Allay said he felt it too.”

To be expected, thought Bardiya. He looked to the two young girls who had stepped forward with the others.

“Sasha, Marna, please tell me your tale.”

The youngsters, both of them eight years old, exchanged a look and smiled. Little Sasha raised her chin with pride. Her skin was much lighter than most who resided in Ang, like cream sprinkled with cinnamon.

“Marna don’t talk,” she said in her angelic voice. “She don’t know how.”

Bardiya ruffled her short, curly hair. “That is fine. You can tell it.”

“Well, me and Mar were out with Father getting pretty flowers. By the skinny river near Ashhur’s big house. Red ones, yellow ones, purple ones-all the pretty ones. We had three baskets full. It was great , but no one was there.”

“Safeway was empty?”

The girl nodded, then her cheeks flushed. She looked to her friend, who shifted from foot to foot with downcast eyes.

“Go on, Sasha,” Bardiya said.

“I can’t,” she said quietly. “I’m scared.”

The crowd around them murmured.

He touched the side of her face, his hand larger than her head. “Go on. There is nothing to fear. I will not hurt you.”

The little girl nodded. “The village was empty, but I heard people yelling,” she said, her voice shaking. “Lots of them. Mar screamed and fell. I was in the big fat trees, and when I ran to her, I saw scary men on the other side of the skinny river. They had shiny clothes and spears.”

“What were they doing?”

Sasha shrugged. “Walking. They had horses. And carts. And…and…”

“And what, my dear?”

She leaned in close to him and, her tiny voice trembling with terror, said, “Heads on sticks.”

Bardiya pulled back and smiled at her, humming a soft, sweet tune. He then beckoned the silent Marna forward and wrapped both of them in a hug. By the time he released the girls, they had regained their composure, and Marna grinned at him from behind tears. Their parents came to retrieve them, their whispered thanks barely audible above the crowd’s murmurs, and then Onna Lensbrough took center stage.

“My Lord, I need to tell you my tale,” he said hurriedly.

Onna was a man fast approaching agedness, with a long white beard and deep crow’s feet around his eyes. He was rarely seen in Ang, preferring to sail his Kind Lady across the Thulon Ocean’s open waters. To find him freely on dry land, before such a crowd, was a bad omen.

Bardiya ran a hand through his own close-cropped hair. “How many times have I told you not to call me ‘Lord,’ Onna? Ashhur is the only lord of this land. Now tell your story.”

“Okay. So I was…well, I was out trawling…you know, the bluegills are migrating north this time o’ year. Then I see these two ships-largest ones I ever seen. Three sails each, tall as the biggest pine tree in Stonewood. They float right on by me like I warn’t even there…almost hit the Kind Lady . Would’ve tore her in two.”