Selene of the spring came out gold and perfectly round from the east and started to rise. Not the slightest shadow of a cloud obscured her. The men who were seated in the western stands, across from Selene, were the first to see her and filled the Wolfhowl with cheers. Cheers and screams of joy from the other stands joined in and rose to a deafening cry that reached the four corners of the Earth.
Sah-Ouna slaughtered a white goat, its long hair hiding the weakness of the skinny animal.
She raised the liver that trembled on the edge of her fingers and looked at it.
She listened to the Sky.
She sang with her most solemn voice, alone among ten thousand men.
O Goddess, sweet and beautiful…come listen…we beg you…I will bring as sacrifice…a heart of my own…
All eyes were on Selene. No man breathed until she was finished. The Ouna-Mas joined in the hymn repeating the words. Only when they stopped, the men began murmuring.
“What is happening?”
“What now?”
Each was anxiously waiting for Sah-Ouna’s life-giving and death-bringing Truth. The ceremony had never unraveled like this before. Sah-Ouna had not revealed the prophecy. And she said nothing that night. She stepped down, took Malan by the hand, and then ascended to the platform together.
For the first time, the Khun stood next to the Witch on the Feast of Spring. He was the center of the whole Tribe, and all of us revolved around him. The Khun would not be listening. He would be speaking. Sah-Ouna hugged her favorite son softly and turned him to face the southeast, with Selene ascending valiantly on his left. The Forest was to the back of them.
Sah-Ouna stepped down again. In silence.
“Isn’t she going to speak to us?” Leke asked me as if I had seen this sight many times and knew what the outcome would be.
“She has spoken,” whispered a Tracker behind me.
Malan, with his eyes open, began to speak.
With the Voice of the Khun. The one that lifted Sirol to the Sky. He stopped after each phrase and the twenty-four Reghen, ten paces in front of us, repeated his words loudly for us to hear. Malan shouted with both arms raised, the palms facing inward.
“The First Witch spoke to me.
“The one who has heard the Unending Sky.
“With Selene, silver and gold.
“She heard the words of the almighty Goddess.”
The thunderous shouts of thousands. Would I have thought to say the same? If I had become Khun? No.
“The magnificent Selene shone upon us, and the Sun will also shine brighter than ever at tomorrow’s fateful dawn. Because the Goddess hates the traitors.”
Wild cries. For the traitors who had been slain, all forty of them. “By the Ssons,” was the Story everyone favored.
“The traitors will no longer be hidden in the fog or in the darkness. The Season of the Golden Light is coming, the Season of Victory, where no enemy of the Tribe will survive. Men, listen to me. We march on.”
The women Archers were there too.
“The campaign for the Legends, the one that will bring life back to our Packs.”
The Reghen echoed, stentorian.
A standing, deafening ovation. The monster with the nine thousand heads had awoken to swallow the faraway ill-fated lands. Malan took a breath and waited until the crowd settled.
“There.”
There! Finally, we knew.
He pointed to the southeast. I was watching Malan sixty paces in front of me, and the Forest was behind him. We would ride in the opposite direction, he said. Not toward the Forest. Far away from her. East. South.
“To the seven cities of the South.”
The seven cities of the South. The faraway edges of the world and the Southeastern Empire. The first, the greatest of the seven cities, Thalassopolis, was the only way, by land, to the other six. Otherwise, we would have to cross the Black Sea and then the Pelago of the Thousand Islands. Malan, with both arms raised above his head, and with his voice gushing out of the lungs of twenty-four Reghen, was sending us to the opposite end of the world.
“We cannot do that,” Sani said to me as soon as the Reghen repeated the words. “Can’t go southeast. We’ll need ships.”
“Or conquer Sapul, the cursed Thalassopolis.”
But we would not attack Sapul, which connected the two seas with her straits.
My Tribe had no ships and would never build any.
Malan was still shouting.
“I will ride first, and you will follow me on the once-traveled trail of our Ancestors.”
A murmur of thousand whispers multiplied fast and died faster around me. The trail of our Ancestors?
“Oh, fuck!” a man behind me screamed, and we all turned to see the face of a dejected Tracker. “Fucking dog fucker! He is taking us to the damned pits of the earth.”
“We will head north for many moons. Then turn east past the great rivers and then through the steppe of our Ancestors for many more moons,” Malan continued, and the Reghen repeated, too far away to care about the words of any Tracker.
The cheers died down. We were going to the steppe, back to where we had come from.
“And then south, through the salt lakes. We’ll gaze upon but not cross the Black Sea of Darhul, and finally head straight through the belly of the Southeastern Empire. We will reach the six cities of the South. Conquer them one by one. And finally, last, we’ll ride north from there to Sapul. To Sapul!”
Malan’s shouts were feeding the men’s screams.
“To Sapul we march, brave of the Tribe!
“To overthrow the Emperor of the Buried Cross Worshippers. We will avenge the evil deeds that weigh heavily upon them. We’ll take revenge for the children of our ancestors, six generations before.”
The Sapul of dreams. Louder than ever, the shouts rose again. The men next to me were asking whatever came to their heads, but I couldn’t hear a word they were saying. Thousands of men were embracing one another in a mad celebration around the arena.
We were going to make an enormous circle of a journey to reach the other side of the world. First north, then east, then south, and then west until we reach the six smaller cities of the Southeastern Empire before ending in Sapul. Ride around the whole world of men just to avoid attacking Sapul first. The other cities were smaller. Maybe we could take them, but no one had ever set foot inside Sapul.
The Tracker behind me was not celebrating. I moved closer to him to listen to his words.
“This cannot be done,” I heard him say as soon as everyone quieted down.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Go where? Do you understand what he said? North, next to the forests, east through the endless steppe, and then through the treacherous passes, over the stone hills and along the salt lakes? To cross the deserts of fire and reach the southern edges of the world? And conquer six cities, six armies after all of that? And then what? Head north from there to Sapul? How? And come back? No, it’s not possible. Not even in seven summers. Not even with one hundred thousand men,” said the Tracker.
“We have fewer than half of that.”
“Seven summers,” Sani mumbled next to me.
Malan continued.
“The Age of Hunger began before me, but it will end with me as Khun. The Change that the Goddess has promised is now.
“You will follow me. We will find gold there. Glory that you cannot imagine. Horse, meat, women!”
He was screaming now.
“You will have Legend and Story. For the revenge. For the promise of Khun-Nan and the First Ouna-Ma. For Enaka. For the end of all traitors and all othertriber demons. Follow your Khun. There. Forward. Our Brave. For the Goddess.”
He was pointing in the exact opposite direction of the pond of Kar-Tioo.
The greatest, most thunderous Feast of Spring had ended and yet the noise will not subside. The rings of men broke and became long slithering lines, dragging themselves like hungry snakes on the earth to find their fate
in the campaign. We were still pushing one another to get out of the Wolfhowl when I stopped and turned. Why was I rushing? Why were we pushing each other?
Are we men or sheep?
Malan was still standing alone on the platform. The Rods and the Ssons had assembled around him with the torches and formed a large shining ring of fire in the center of the field. The other torches in the stands and at the edges of the plateau were slowly dying out.
I turned back to go talk with the Khun on the night of his glory. I had to say something. But what? So he wouldn’t forget me. So he would take me with him. I had to leave. Twenty winters now, my heart had rusted. In the land of Elbia and Zeria, of the Ouna-Mas and the Drakon. I wanted to go to the other side of the world. In the desert of fire. To let it burn everything inside me.
I never made it to Malan. The Reghen stopped me, with an Ouna-Ma at his side, before I climbed the steps.
“Great Truths the Goddess has given us. This campaign will last many summers,” the Reghen told me.
“Yes, I got that.”
“You have to go to the Forest to gather belladonna and crazygrass. As much as you can find. All of it. The Ouna-Mas will need to summon their visions when they are away in the campaign.”
The Reghen and the Ouna-Mas had found a fitting Truth again. To get rid of me. But the trap they had set was much too sweet for me not to take the bait.
“I will go,” I told him. “With fifty men. So the Reekaal won’t dare to come near me.”
I looked at the Sson who was closer to me, but he didn’t move or utter a word.
“Be quick about it. We leave before the half moon. You have nine days,” said the Reghen. “And bring that stallion of yours. The Khun asked for it.”
Asked for what?
The Rod next to the Reghen smiled, staring at me and rocking his fists as if he was holding reins. “Easy now, boy,” he said.
I ran away trying to forget or not to think about what the Reghen meant. As I was coming out of the Wolfhowl, I bumped into Chaka, who had been Chief of the Uncarved Guides for five winters.
“How are you doing, old man?” He was just a plain Archer now. I could call him anything I wanted. I was the Tribe’s Firstblade.
“The Khun. He will save us,” he answered.
He had found the One whom he had been seeking all along.
“The campaign? What does your heart say?”
“My last, Da-Ren. Your first.”
“Do you believe this is what Enaka wishes? That Sah-Ouna saw our fate in the Sky? Or is the Khun taking us where he wanted to go all along?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Yes to what? I am asking you about the Witch. Does she have the eyes of Enaka, or is she playing with our fears?”
“Yes.”
This could be the last time we see Kar-Tioo, O’Ren. But don’t worry, no one will take you away from me.
I started out for the northern caves of the Forest that night, with fifty of my best men. Sani stayed back at camp to keep things in order while I was gone.
“Be careful,” I told him.
“Careful of what?”
“Everyone.”
By now I expected a trap whenever the Ouna-Mas or the Reghen sent me somewhere.
It took me four days to reach the northern settlement of the Dasal. I was lucky enough to find the Dasal before they left for farther north as Veker had warned me. It was one spring ago from that night that Zeria had not shown up.
We reached the huts but there were all deserted, though I could still smell the fires and the fresh sheep shit.
“They must be close by,” I said.
We soon found the Dasal, about two hundred of them, all gathered in a clearing not far from there. They were all in a circle; their backs turned to me. Another ceremony of circles was unveiling in front of me, another ceremony to end the old and bring the new. I dismounted O’Ren and approached with care to remain unnoticed, urging my men to stay farther back.
I was not sure what I was watching. A tall old man was at the head of the circle, and I soon recognized him as Saim, the shaman. His mantle was a mesh of felt, leaves and feathers, made of the Forest itself. He was holding a flask and he gave it to a short-haired man in front of him. A woman, dark-haired and slender was next to the man. The hands of man and woman were tangled together, a hemp rope, coiled multiple times around them.
The circle of men, women and children were watching. There were four girls outside the circle in the four points of the horizon. One of them was waving two giant wings behind Saim and that made him look like a fearsome mythical bird ready to fly. Another girl to my right was holding a torch. On the opposite side, yet another one was spreading handfuls of earth in front of her. A fourth girl stepped out of the circle holding a flask and started sprinkling water with her fingers toward the direction of the trunks that hid me. The moment she spotted me, she dropped the jar and left with a scream. She was young, much younger than Zeria. At her scream, the circle opened, the Dasal turned, and they stared at me. I walked toward them, completely naked of fear. I had seen only the back of the girl in the middle of the ceremony, yet I had recognized her figure before I met her eyes once again. She turned together with the man, a couple with their hands tied.
I was surrounded by the Dasal. They were surrounded by fifty of my men, with shaft on ear ready to shoot. Veker ran toward me pleading and waving both hands up: “Don’t bring death on such a sacred day. In the name of the children. Whatever you want. She is here. She is here; it is her sacred day. I’ll give her to you.”
“Ready, Chief,” shouted a young lad from my fifty.
My men were ready for blood, and all these green and blue-eyed women were making them mad and hungry.
“Stand down,” I shouted to my men. “We have orders to trade with those savages, not to kill.” I turned to Veker. “Give her to me,” I said. “All the belladonna you have. And all the potent herbs you’ve gathered. Bring it all.”
“You want me to find belladonna in the early of spring? I will give you whatever we gathered from many moons ago.”
The Dasal had broken the circle and had all huddled together around the couple, making the target my men needed easier to find. I had to get my men out of there before anyone from either side lost his patience.
“We’ll camp for the night close by and leave by dawn. Bring as much as you can. And more herbs—crazygrass, whatever you have gathered,” I said. “Continue with…with, whatever you do here.”
“You see, Da-Ren, Zeria has already given—”
I cut him short. “I don’t want to know.”
She had broken the circle and was next to him. A white dress, as if of a pale ghost forever lost to me.
“We are leaving,” I said.
“Da-Ren! Do you rule all these men now? I beg you to bring no harm to my people.”
Tears? Hold the tears back in your eyes. You will never have to beg me. I would uproot my Tribe from the earth before I saw you harmed.
“You don’t understand. We’re leaving. For good. This is my last night here. You will be safe,” I said looking at Veker now.
He shook his head as if he knew I was lying. I was lying even if I didn’t know it.
Zeria opened her lips silently for me to read and no one else to hear. “I’ll come find you.”
I hadn’t seen her so close and so clearly for so long.
We camped next to the Dasal huts for the night. The kettles and the flutes of celebration pierced my ears all night.
“Here, they gave us one of their pots with meat and greens. And wine. You want some, Chief?” said Noki who had come with me.
My breath shortened, and my stomach was tied up in knots.
“So there will be no bloodbath here?” Noki continued as I stood silent.
“No, none of that,” I said.
“Good, I am in no spirit to hack children and old men. A couple of their women I’d like to spend the night with, but…,” Noki said, and he stop
ped to gulp down the wine.
“What?”
“Nothing. I like you, Da-Ren. You’re not a crazy fuck of a Firstblade. I’ll follow you in any damned campaign they send us.”
Damned it will be.
I didn’t sleep or eat all night. It would prove a terrible mistake on our way back.
Veker came at dawn with his trusted men. They had gathered all that they could, and he offered it to me in sacks with a fake smile and cold sweat on his brow. We mounted our horses and walked them away from the huts. There was nothing more to take from the Forest.
We had been going for a while, and I had remained last, as if I still hoped. As I was gazing to the west, I saw a little girl signaling me silently with her hand, her body hiding behind an oak trunk. I turned O’Ren to follow her. She kept retreating farther away, hiding from one tree to the next. I lost her a couple of times among the woods, but she stopped and signaled for me to follow. I kept after her on horse for a while until I saw her jumping over a fallen trunk. I didn’t see her again for a few breaths and I thought she was hiding in the thicket behind. I dismounted and ran to her but as I was about to reach her, Zeria appeared out of the green. The little girl was running away from us and didn’t look back again.
“We had to be alone,” Zeria said.
I stared at her, hands fidgeting, unable to find the first word. Or would it be the last?
“You are leaving,” she said.
“I am.”
“Do you want to go there?” She pointed toward the east.
Even the darkest black of her hair shone an outer ribbon of gold as the early sun fell on her head. At night, the same ribbon would have the silver-blue of the moonlight, but I wouldn’t be there to see it anymore. I would be riding hard, far and away from her. I would ride so far that there would be no thought, no struggle, no pondering of coming to see her again and again every moon. Because I desired her more than anything else in this world. So far that she would become a dream, a long-lost spirit, an image that would clear up only when I closed my eyes.
She was wearing a forest-colored dress, the luminous green of the wet moss and the faint yellow of a dying Selene. The fabric was torn high on the right side, and I could see the soft skin of her leg as she was moving. I remembered her skin burning the first night I touched her. The perfect lines of her nose, the lips, the eyebrows, the work of an evil god who had brought my eternal doom. Her soft voice, so different from the shrill, agonizing sounds of the women of our camp. Touching her face and then her neck and down her breasts, a journey now far more impossible than the one I was about to embark on. Her breasts were fuller, full as a young mother’s. Everything around her, the leaves, the shadows of the birds, were trembling slowly in the morning breeze. I was trembling. Was this anger or fear?
Drakon Book II: Uncarved Page 34