Richard Tuttle - Young Lord of Khadora

Togi swung his ax in a gentle practice swing. Around him he could hear dozens of axes impacting on wood as the other lumbermen began the arduous task of clearing the valley. Togi’s ax rebounded off the fargi’s hard bark and he braced himself, legs apart, to deliver a powerful stroke to the tree. The ax blade was slicing deep into the bark when a far off scream suddenly rent the air. Togi jerked his ax out of the fargi and gazed around. The other lumbermen looked startled and had also halted their swings. The Squad Leader began pulling his sword from its sheath as if contemplating punishment for the work stoppage when a soldier ran out of the forest, his long braids flying behind him and his scimitar clasped tightly in his fist. The soldier talked briefly in hushed tones with the Squad Leader, who immediately hurried off in the direction of that first scream. Togi watched as the nervous soldier visibly calmed himself, smoothing his tunic, before issuing orders for the workers to move into the center of the clearing.

Screams started coming from every direction and were accompanied by clashes of metal upon metal. Togi dropped his ax and slid covertly into a pile of leaves as his fellow workers returned to the clearing. The tale of the last massacre indicated that the Chula would kill everybody they found, not just the soldiers, and Togi wasn’t ready to die just yet. He quickly decided that he would rather risk the wrath of the Situ soldiers for disobeying an order than die at the hands of the cat people.

Togi lay completely covered with leaves and breathed shallowly. Even under the leaves the screams and growls sounded closer than before. The lumberman tried placing his hands over his ears to shut out the horrible sounds of men dying, but it did no good. A grunt, followed by a scream, preceded the impact Togi felt when a body fell on top of him. His breathing became ragged and he felt small particles of decaying leaves being sucked into his mouth, but the body above him stopped thrashing and lay still.

The body on top of Togi helped to diminish the sounds of battle and death, but the blood dripping down his neck reminded him of the need to remain hidden. Togi’s body started shaking and he fought to control his fear. He forced his mind to think of other things, pleasant things. Soon Togi was lost in the days of his youth, and the sounds of his playmates swinging on tree branches into the creek replaced the howls of death around him.

Togi was not sure how long he had been dreaming of more pleasant times when he felt the weight of the dead body being lifted off of him. His mind snapped back to the present and he actually strained his ears to pick out the sounds around him. There was a lot of rustling of leaves and animal growls, but very little talking. The small snatches of conversation, which he did hear, were not the voices of his fellow Situ workers, they were the voices of Chula.

Togi started shaking again and tried to force his mind back to the creek of his youth, but he could not ignore the animal growls around him. Suddenly, strong hands grabbed his legs and dragged Togi out of the pile of leaves. Togi opened his eyes and stared into the gaping jaws of a tiger, a tiger with a man astride it. The man issued some guttural tones and the two Chula who had dragged him out of the leaves grabbed his arms and dragged him towards the clearing. Togi’s eyes remained fixed on the Chula riding the tiger. The man’s skin was darker than Togi’s and his face and chest were painted with strange symbols. The Chula wore nothing but a breechcloth and he rode the tiger as Togi would ride a horse.

Soon the tiger and its rider were lost to his sight and Togi was thrown to the ground in the clearing. Togi looked to his side and promptly vomited. The clearing was filled with body parts as if the lumbermen were sliced by a thousand sickles. Togi retched until he could retch no more. His head spun with fear and revulsion as men grabbed him and hoisted him up to his feet and tied him to a tree. With his back to the tree, the whole clearing became visible to Togi and he tried to clamp his eyes closed, but his fear and the sounds of Chula and tigers passing close to him kept them wide open.

Togi watched as Chula came into the clearing, dragging corpses of Situ soldiers and piling them onto the largest wagon. Several of the Chula rode tigers and all of them were wearing paint on their bodies. A few Chula were cutting the clothes off of some of the soldiers with their knives and tying the pieces together to form a long rope. Most of the Chula carried spears and a few had swords, but every one of them had a small quiver at his waist and a knife hanging from a thong attached to his breechcloth.

A Chula with a headdress resembling a lion’s mane and wearing a long, brown tunic strode into the clearing and approached a Chula riding a black panther. The rider stood out from the other Chula warriors because he was clothed from head to foot in animal skins. Togi watched as the two different-looking Chula conversed and looked towards him. After a few moments of conversation the pair strode over to Togi and stood before him. Togi’s eyes blinked as he looked at the face of the Chula with the lion’s mane headdress, only it wasn’t a headdress at all. The Chula before him sported slit eyes and whiskers like a cat and the mane appeared to be part of him. His split lips smiled as he observed Togi’s expression, but it was the Chula in animal skins that spoke.

“I am Tmundo, leader of the Kywara,” the Chula stated. “You Khadorans learn slowly. Twice now, my people have had to teach you the lesson of observing our holy grounds. I have little patience for slow learners. You shall live to deliver a message to the Khadorans who would invade our lands. Listen carefully, so that I do not have to carve the message into your flesh with my knife.”

Togi nodded briskly as the sweat poured off his brow.

“The next time Khadorans invade this valley,” Tmundo declared, “not only the blood of the invaders will be spilled, but the blood of the man who sent them will be spread across his own lands. The Sitari Valley belongs to the Kywara as it has always and how it shall always be. Repeat the message, now.”

Togi quivered as he repeated the message word for word. Tmundo swiftly drew his knife and Togi cringed as it flicked towards him. Waiting for the bite of the blade upon his flesh, Togi felt the restraining ropes fall from his body.

“We have prepared a wagon for your journey back home,” purred the Chula with the lion’s mane. “Even in death, we do not welcome Khadorans on our land. Take them back to your people.”

Togi glanced at the wagon piled high with dead Situ restrained by the rope made from the soldiers’ clothes. The wagon was designed to haul long logs and was the largest he had ever seen, yet the bodies piled on it would tumble over the sides without the rope holding them on. Eight horses were hitched to the wagon and Togi wondered whether they would be able to pull the weight.

Tmundo gave Togi a shove towards the wagon and the lumberman quickly made his way to the driver’s seat and urged the horses forward. Visibly shaking, Togi sighed as the eight large horses started to pull the wagon towards home. The Chula stood and watched the wagon as it slowly picked up momentum.

* * *

Marak sat in the shade with his back placed against a lituk tree. He eased his sword and sheath over his head and placed it on the ground beside him. Next he removed his metal helmet and subconsciously adjusted his embroidered green and yellow headband. His gaze swept over the orchard and the workers who were harvesting the small, yellow lituks. These fruits were one of the mainstay products of the Situ Clan. Slave workers carried straw baskets and ladders and glumly picked the bitter fruits from their thorny branches. The orchard was quiet as the slaves went about their work wordlessly. Adjacent to the mature orchard was a barren field set to be cultivated this year. Out in the center of the barren field, Marak’s gaze halted on the frail figure of a woman kneeling in the dirt and waving her arms. The woman was covered in dirt, obscuring the only colorful portion of her outfit, the broad, embroidered Clan Belt in the green and yellow colors of the Situ Clan. The rest of her attire was simply a dirty, brown tunic that signified the woman’s low status as a slave of Lord Ridak, Lord of the Situ Clan.