Winged Warrior fl-7

by Richard S. Tuttle

  Harmagan shuddered at the thought. He swallowed the last piece of bread and drained the cup of ale. “Help me to my feet,” he ordered.

  Fisher complied and helped the Jiadin leader stand up. Harmagan took a couple of cautious steps and nodded triumphantly.

  “At least I can still walk,” he sighed. “What am I supposed to do then if I can’t find this wizard?”

  “The only thing that you can do is to safeguard Wyant when he arrives,” replied Fisher. “If someone tries to attack Wyant, you will know who it is. Then you can have your men kill him.”

  “You are clever,” grinned Harmagan, “but you are not Jiadin, are you?”

  “Today, I am Jiadin,” smiled Fisher. “Tomorrow, who knows? What does it matter? You know that I mean you no harm.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter much,” conceded Harmagan. “The Jiadin are no longer what we used to be. That much Brakas had right. We have become clova to be fattened up for slaughter.”

  “No, my friend,” smiled Fisher. “The Jiadin will ride again, and soon. The Time of Cleansing is coming, and a million enemies are coming with it.”

  “You believe in that nonsense?” frowned Harmagan. “No one can put a million men together.”

  “I believe it,” nodded Fisher. “I have seen parts of the armies coming to attack us. The Jiadin’s mettle will be tested. Your men should be making ready. This war will not be for clova.”

  “I hope you are right,” grinned Harmagan. “Even if you aren’t right, I like your words. What should I call you?”

  “Call me Scarab,” chuckled Fisher, “and I think you truly know that my words are true. You just abhor the waiting like any good warrior does.”

  “Well, Scarab,” Harmagan asked, “do you know where Angragar is?”

  “I do,” nodded Fisher, “but you know that I will not tell you. Why are you so anxious to know?”

  “Why?” frowned Harmagan. “Why do I want to know where the lost city of riches is? You can’t be serious?”

  “Oh,” smiled Fisher, “but I am. The riches of Angragar are not the type of riches that would interest you or your men. The riches that are spoken of are spiritual in nature. You cannot spend them. Besides, the Free Tribes inhabit Angragar. Would you truly lead your men against them?”

  “No gold?” frowned the Jiadin leader. “You are lying to me.”

  “For what purpose?” posed Fisher. “If there was any gold there, would not the Free Tribes have already taken it? The one you call Brakas is interested in Angragar for an entirely different reason. He is part of the evil that is coming to invade this land. He seeks Angragar so that Vand’s armies can plot its destruction. The rumors of gold and treasure that he spreads gains the cooperation of a hundred thousand Jiadin who dream of the spoils. Think about it, Harmagan. Is there any doubt in your mind that Brakas was trying to use you and your men?”

  “The Jiadin have been used by everyone,” sighed Harmagan. “We tire of it.”

  “Not entirely true,” retorted Fisher. “You have been manipulated by Vand’s people over and over again. It is always the same people pulling your puppet strings. Grulak was the first. Zygor and Brakas were the last. You may think the Khadoran lords used you, but Zygor and Brakas were behind that whole plot.”

  “What about Rejji?” asked Harmagan. “Isn’t he using us now?”

  “Is he?” asked Fisher. “Look around you. Is Rejji making you stay here? He is trying to rally you to fight the evil, but isn’t that in your own best interests? The Jiadin will be exterminated just as quickly as the Free Tribes when Vand’s armies invade. All he is trying to do is to get you all working together. I don’t categorize that as using you.”

  “You make a lot of sense, Scarab,” replied Harmagan. “I just wish that I could believe your words. The Jiadin would join with any tribe that stood for defending Fakara from outsiders. I just can’t believe in this evil army that everyone says is coming.”

  “What will it take to get you to believe it?” asked Fisher. “Do you want me to take you to the Island of Darkness and drop you off? That would certainly prove it to you. Unfortunately, you would be dead after just a few moments of belief. That wouldn’t do any of us any good.”

  “I just want an enemy for my people to attack,” Harmagan sighed with frustration. “Can you give me that?”

  “It won’t be long now,” promised Fisher. “Already the city of Duran has been destroyed.”

  “Duran?” asked Harmagan. “Where is that?”

  “It is a city in the Sakova,” answered Fisher. “Thousands of people were slaughtered. Every man, woman, and child was killed.”

  “Women, too?” frowned Harmagan. “Surely they took them hostage?”

  “The Motangans want no hostages,” Fisher shook his head. “They plan to annihilate every living person.”

  “The Sakova is far away,” Harmagan shrugged after a few moments of silence. “A war there means nothing to the Jiadin.”

  “Really?” retorted Fisher. “Meliban is no farther from the Island of Darkness than Duran. You could be next to be invaded.”

  “Who knows about the destruction of Duran?” asked the Jiadin leader.

  “I thought everyone knew,” shrugged Fisher. “It happened some time ago. It is thought to have been a trial run to see how our armies react. The real invasion is close at hand.”

  “I will ask Wyant when he arrives,” stated Harmagan. “If he confirms what you have said about Duran, I will finally believe the stories of the coming war.”

  “Fair enough,” smiled Fisher. “When is he due to arrive?”

  Just then, several Jiadin burst through the front door. They slid to a halt and looked around the room.

  “Where is Brakas?” asked one of the men.

  “He is gone,” answered Harmagan. “Why do you want him?”

  “Wyant is in town,” answered the warrior. “We want to be there when Brakas makes him tell us where Angragar is.”

  “Brakas left town,” Harmagan stated. “Have every group commander report here immediately. I want them all here before Wyant arrives in this building. Is that clear?”

  The men nodded and ran out of the building. Fisher moved to leave as well, but Harmagan called to him.

  “Where are you going, Scarab?” he asked.

  “To get lost in the darkness,” Fisher replied. “I am not one who cares for the light. I have to find out where Brakas has gone.”

  “Stay, fellow Jiadin,” smiled Harmagan. “I don’t want you out of my sight before Wyant arrives. I want his answer to the question about Duran to honest.”

  “I will promise not to speak to Wyant,” countered Fisher. “I really must go.”

  “You don’t want to be seen by Wyant,” Harmagan grinned. “And here I thought you were working for him and the Free Tribes. Would he recognize you by sight?”

  “No,” Fisher replied. “My duties require that few people know me. Your men would probably recognize that I am not a Jiadin and that would call attention to me. That is attention that I cannot afford.”

  “Put your mind at rest,” grinned Harmagan. “Few who call themselves Jiadin today are really from the original Jiadin tribe. Most of the current Jiadin joined under Grulak. In fact, most of my original kinsmen are long dead. I will introduce you as Scarab, my long lost brother.”

  Fisher thought about the value of having a validated Jiadin identity. He knew that it could be valuable one day.

  “Why would you do this for me?” asked Fisher. “You must know by now that I am a spy. Why open up the entire Jiadin tribe to my snooping?”

  “Because I like you,” grinned Harmagan. “You not only saved my life, but you have been open and truthful to me. Besides, I do not fear anything that you might find out snooping on the Jiadin. Stay and listen to Wyant. Afterwards you can give me your thoughts on what he says.”

  “You want me here to validate what Wyant says,” laughed Fisher.

  “You are quick, little brother,”
grinned Harmagan. “If Wyant confirms your words about Duran, then I can believe everything you say. Seeing as I can believe you, I will ask you what you think about what Wyant tries to feed us. In the end, we will all have the truth.”

  “I will stay,” smiled Fisher. “I do not have to know Wyant well to know that he will tell you the truth. Rejji would not have it any other way.”

  Chapter 27

  The Jiadin Tribe

  Jiadin warriors started pouring into the administration building. Some of them glanced questioningly at Fisher, but no one actually challenged his right to be there. When all of the leaders had assembled, Harmagan ordered the door closed.

  “I want to talk to all of you before Wyant gets here,” Harmagan began. “Most of you probably heard that Brakas is back in town and urging us to make Wyant mention the location of Angragar. As far as the Jiadin are concerned for now, let Brakas ask Wyant what he wants to. What we are interested in is much different. We want to know when we can get out of this city and kill something.”

  The Jiadin cheered and raised their fists in the air. Harmagan grinned and waited for the commotion to die down.

  “Not sure if any of you remember him,” Harmagan said as he put his arm around Fisher, “but this is my little brother, Scarab. You old timers will remember him for sure, but not you young pups.”

  Amazingly, some of the older Jiadin professed to remember Scarab. Fisher figured that they were either drunk and couldn’t see, or they wanted to act as if they were founding fathers of the Jiadin clan and remembered everyone. In the end it didn’t matter much. Scarab was enthusiastically welcomed by the Jiadin leaders.

  “Scarab here has brought me some disturbing news,” Harmagan frowned as he regained everyone’s attention. “It appears that there is a plot to kill Wyant. Now, we all know that no good will come to the Jiadin if that happens.”

  “Does this have to do with Brakas?” asked one of the men.

  “No,” Harmagan shook his head. “As I said, Brakas has already left the city. No, this is some type of scheme to kill Wyant and blame the death on the Jiadin. We can’t let that happen.”

  “What scum would do such a thing?” one of the men shouted angrily.

  “Let’s not worry about the who for now,” replied Harmagan. “I want each of you to be responsible for Wyant’s safety while he in our city. What happens to him after he leaves here is not our concern, but that man will not die in Meliban. Everyone clear on this?”

  The Jiadin leaders all acknowledged their understanding about Wyant’s protection. Harmagan was pleased and opened the floor for discussion on what they wanted to talk to Wyant about. Scarab listened to the Jiadin complaints, which centered mostly on the inactivity of being cooped up in the city, but his mind was on Clarvoy. He wondered what the evil mage had up his sleeve, and who he would look like next.

  The door to the administration building opened and Wyant entered with a group of six Jiadin warriors surrounding him. Harmagan and the other leaders greeted Wyant while Fisher tried to fade into the background. Fisher had been in Angragar at least once while Wyant was there. Although they had never been introduced to each other, Fisher was slightly concerned that Wyant would recognize him and inadvertently expose him. The spy’s fears were overblown. Harmagan grabbed Fisher by the shoulder and pulled him forward to meet Wyant. The Marshal of Fakara nodded as Harmagan introduced Scarab, his younger brother.

  “Have there been troubles in Meliban?” Wyant opened the discussion.

  “Little outside the normal problems,” shrugged Harmagan. “The men are tired of being held in this city. When can we leave?”

  “Soon,” answered Wyant. “Very soon. I was asking about troubles because you seem to have afforded me an escort on this visit to the city. Why?”

  “The men have been rowdy lately,” smiled Harmagan. “I wouldn’t want to see you hurt. Does the protection bother you?”

  “No,” frowned Wyant. “I just sense that there is more to the story than you are telling me.”

  “Well,” shrugged Harmagan, “that is all there is to it. Tell us what is new in this supposed war we keep hearing about. I have to tell you that many of the men are beginning to doubt that there will be a war.”

  “Oh, the war is coming,” stressed Wyant, “and much sooner than we had thought. Already the enemy has destroyed a city down south. The full invasion cannot be far off.”

  Harmagan shot a glance at Scarab as he addressed Wyant. “What city was destroyed?” he asked.

  “A Sakovan city,” Wyant replied. “You probably never heard of it. It was called Duran.”

  “Duran?” echoed the Jiadin leader. “I think that I have heard of it recently. Were the city defenders beaten badly?”

  “Beaten?” Wyant frowned heavily. “They were utterly destroyed. It was not a fight; it was a slaughter. I am not talking about a city like Meliban that is filled with Jiadin warriors. Duran was a farming and fishing city. The Motangans literally killed every living thing in the city. You do not understand what we are facing, Harmagan. These Motangans have no use for prisoners. They already hold thousands and thousands of slaves on the Island of Darkness. They have no need for more slaves, nor will prisoners have any value in negotiations, because there will be no negotiations. This coming war is a fight to the death. Either our civilization wins, or theirs does. There will be no in between.”

  The assembled Jiadin leaders glanced at one another in silence. Finally, Harmagan broke the quiet.

  “You must explain this to all of the men in the park tonight,” Harmagan demanded. “I also think the Jiadin should be returned to the plains and the mountains. We are not a defending army. Our strength lies in the swift attack on slow moving armies. Our talents are wasted in Meliban.”

  Wyant stared at his old foes and suddenly saw them in a new light. His main focus as Marshal of Fakara had been to avoid fighting the Jiadin. Segregating them in Meliban and Taggot had solved that problem, but now he saw that he was wasting a valuable resource, if they could be trusted.

  “I am willing to talk about a change in duties for the Jiadin,” offered Wyant, “but I cannot allow the lawlessness that existed in the past to reoccur. How can I be assured that the Jiadin will fight the same war that the Free Tribes are fighting?”

  Harmagan fell silent for a moment as he tried to figure out how to answer the question. The other Jiadin leaders looked on in confusion. They were not quite sure what Harmagan was trying to accomplish.

  “There is no easy answer to your question,” Harmagan finally replied. “The Jiadin have been very deceitful lately, but they have also been deceived by others. Truth has become elusive for all of us. What I can tell you is that the Jiadin were once valiant warriors, before the time of Grulak. Unlike many of the present day Jiadin, I was born with a red scarf. That honor still runs through my veins. If what you are saying about the Motangans is true, and I now believe it to be true, I will offer up my life in the defense of our homeland. No foreign army has the right to march through the Land of the Tribes. All I am asking of King Rejji and the Free Tribes is the chance to fight like a warrior, to die like a warrior, with honor.”

  Wyant stared at the Jiadin leader for a few moments before nodding. “The Jiadin are one of the tribes,” Wyant conceded. “No one has the right to deny them the option of fighting for Fakara, but our only chance of survival rests in the coordination of efforts. To win this war, we must fight together. Otherwise, we will all die. Are the Jiadin capable of putting their rebellion behind them and rejoining the Free Tribes?”

  Harmagan turned abruptly and walked to the fireplace. He picked up a piece of charcoal and carried it back to the table. While the other leaders watched, Harmagan tore off his red scarf and firmly rubbed the charcoal across it to create a black diagonal stripe.

  “This is my answer to you, Marshal of Fakara,” Harmagan said loudly. “Let any Jiadin who will unite with the Free Tribes to battle the infidels mark his scarf in this manner. This will be t
he mark of the Jiadin of the Free Tribes.”

  The other Jiadin leaders appeared frozen, each afraid to be the first to commit to a drastic change to the only life they had ever known. Harmagan’s statement was clear to all of them. To accept the black stripe was to put behind them the hatred and animosity of the other tribes that had driven the Jiadin for so long. It was a commitment that could not be reversed, for they would be placing themselves directly under the rule of the other tribes. Any rebellion would not only be crushed by the Free Tribes, but by the other converted Jiadin.

  While the room stood silent and frozen, Scarab walked to the table. Everyone’s eyes focused on him as he tore off his scarf and grabbed the charcoal.

  “Harmagan is right about this,” Scarab said loudly. “We have been outcasts long enough. It has gained us nothing. Over the years tribal alliances have come and gone, but this time is different. We are fighting an enemy that wants us all dead. I would rather ride alongside my former enemies than die like a rodent in a trapped box. The Jiadin rebellion is dead!” he added as he rubbed the charcoal across his red scarf.

  The other Jiadin leaders watched the display, their eyes large as they listened to what could only be called a call to war. When Scarab was done, the other leaders cheered and shouted insults to the Motangans. One by one the leaders removed their scarves and created black stripes across them. When they were all done, Wyant smiled and nodded.

  “Welcome home,” grinned the Marshal of Fakara.

  “You have us on your side, Wyant,” declared Harmagan, “but there are many more Jiadin who wear the red scarf unadorned. Your speech tonight must convince them to accept the stripe. We are giving you our loyalty. Show us that it is not mistaken.”

  “I will do more than that,” promised Wyant. “Help me win over your men tonight, and I will give orders to evacuate Meliban. The Jiadin will be returned to the wilds. Food and supplies will still be delivered to specified places at specified times.”