The Lost Empire of Dakush: Rise of the Tribes (Book Book 1)

by Stanimir Mirov

  “Here you are. I didn't see when you left. We started talking with the trader behind his tent,” appeared suddenly, Maron. “You became a real beauty Ksavia. How is your dad?”

  “Thank you, he is good. As always, busy with something.”

  “Send him my regards. He is our beloved Karpa-Du. And you know, I will be pleased if your family visits us for dinner.”

  “Thank you, I'll tell him.”

  They said goodbye and each took on their way.

  While walking down the street, the fat man stopped abruptly and squeezed Urta's hand,

  “I saw Zurbal, he just entered the inn. The lying dog has finally fallen into my hands. This will save me time, as I thought I'd have to send people to look for him in the Great city of Harna. He owes me 10 golden du with interest.”

  The two men ran into the inn. Maron pointed to a man sitting with his back to them, and Urta swooped on him, knocking him to the ground. He pulled his sword, propped it on his throat and set it up, then dragged the man into the warehouse behind. Without saying anything, the moneylender rummaged him and took out his purse. The usurer counted the coins, calculated them and looked at Urta,

  “He is four golden du short.”

  Stotnic pulled out his knife, caught Zurbal's arm and cut off his finger, on which was a massive gold ring. The man shouted in pain.

  “Does this cover the loan?” He asked while handing the ring.

  “Yes, with the lesson he received. Nobody can steal from Maron.”

  In the evening, the guests arrived. They exchanged pleasantries and sat at the big table. The atmosphere was soft and warm. Multiple silver candlesticks lit the room. On the central spot stood the host and Urta beside him. Karpa-du Valtsek sat on the opposite side, with his daughter Ksavia on one side and his wife, Darna, on the other.

  Maron raised his glass,

  “Cheers, welcome to my humble home. It is an honor and pleasure to welcome such illustrious guests.”

  All raised their glasses and drank the wine. Valtsek praised the beverage, “The pleasure is mine to drink such wine in the company of a host of exquisite taste. I would love to know the name of the dealer from whom you buy it.”

  “Of course. Traders are bringing it from the distant city of Harna. How are your things, I hope everything in the treasure is good?”

  “I cope, but after the great donation that you made for the construction of the temple in the outer city, Dul-Erhu Terter is already watching you with benevolent eyes. This put you high up the ladder,” he drank with relish from the wine.

  “Yes, I'm glad that I'm appreciated. We are all well and prosperous thanks to you. Treasury is in the right hands. Dakush flourishes.”

  They continued with flattery and praise, and after the abundant dinner, the host and Karpa-du moved to the library in the Villa and talked for quite some time,

  “My invitation was not accidental. It will be suitable for two families like ours to be related. My dear nephew, too young, but ambitious enough, may make us alliances by marriage with your daughter. He will be Tur of Dakush before long. I'm in the shadow of Dul Deodora and you of Dul-Erhu Terter. What do you say, my friend? Are you willing?

  “I am inclined indeed. Urta is respected in our circles. For me, it would be an honor to be related. Let's go inside and bless their marriage.”

  They embraced each other and walked back into the room. Both men took their seats, and Karpa-du nodded to his wife, who smiled pleased. The fat man patted his nephew's shoulder and whispered something. All stood, raised their glasses for a toast and Maron announced the engagement of the young. The wedding was scheduled for after two months. Urta was pleased with his promised dowry and property.

  Chapter V

  Satyr-Sydyk

  In the sea raged a terrible storm. Lightning cleaved the darkness with loud thunders. The massive waves pounded the four ships. On the leading vessel, the strong voice of a big man with a whip in his hand was heard,

  “Row, you filthy scum! Row, the shores are close.”

  Slaves, with frantic fear of thunder, as well as the man, were giving everything they had. A fireball pierced the last ship which folded in two and sank into the depths of the sea. Drowned slaves became food for the sharks.

  Although they were slammed by the waves and the strong winds all night, the three ships entered the port the next day. The storm had passed.

  The large harbor of the Makuti, Alave, was the focal trading point of the northern tribes. On the territory of the empire was the biggest granary. The ships that docked at the pier were of the tribe Garva. Numerous slaves began to unload the cargo - skins, tusks of mammoth, barrels of wine. One ship was loaded with slaves only. They traded them for grain and gold gemi (coins).

  The local trader greeted the Garvanian responsible for the goods,

  “How are you, Doron?”

  “Bad. One of the slave ships sank. We will take less wheat this time.”

  “It was a big storm. Just be glad you're alive. Others didn't have your luck.”

  “Yes, thank the god of the seas. Give this bag with spices that I promised to your master Pokav.”

  “You remembered. He will rejoice.”

  “We are no longer able to give you goods from the Suri because they have been defeated and their fortress was captured by Dakush.”

  The man motioned to a slave to collect the bag with the spices and headed to the stone building erected in the city center. It served as control over the port and residence of the local governor.

  The merchant bowed and entered the room where Pokav stood behind a wooden desk and counted some gold coins,

  “Did they bring slaves?” He asked.

  “Only half, Bir Pokav. One of the ships sank in the storm. Doron has brought spices for your fish soup.”

  The man contentedly rubbed his hands,

  “Leave the bag in the corner. Check if the slaves are healthy and load their grain.”

  “Doron mentioned that the Suri fell under the power of Dakush. We must seek another channel for trading.”

  “Uncomfortable. It is difficult to work with Dul-Erhu, but trade is a trade.”

  Doron, tired from the long voyage, entered the large inn to rest. The inside was full of drunks frolicking with young slaves. A strange odor hung in the air. Hookahs with sedation grasses were smoking on some of the tables. The Garvanian noticed several men playing dice and joined them. Some slave brought him a big mug of beer, and he took out his purse. Barbut game was his favorite. After doubling his silver, he went on another table to dine. Not long after, one of the players joined him,

  “Perhaps you wish to give me more silver gemi?” asked Doron.

  “I have none, you took them all! You can buy me wine though if you want to make much more.”

  The man waved to the slave, and she brought two pints and appetizers,

  “Speak. I'm all ears.”

  “I know who you are and what you do. You're from the Garva tribe. You come with ships to trade with the Makuti. I am Marak, from a remote tribe in the north of the great sea, whose name you haven't even heard of. Those areas are full of mammoths. Imagine a ship full of tusks, how much would it cost here!”

  “Sounds dangerous. Hunting mammoths is not an easy job.”

  “We won't need to catch them. Mammoths have a place where they go to die when they grow old. We can collect the bones from there. I know of such a graveyard with piles of bones surrounded by many rocks. It is covered with snow most of the time. My tribe lives two days away from the coast, but the place of which I speak is close to the rocky shore. I'll tell you what happened to me. Three moons ago, we built a ship and filled it with mammoth bones. Our tribe is small, so we can't build boats. An escaped slave helped us do it. But at sea, the ship crashed and sank. It was much smaller than yours. I alone survived. Even our chief was eaten by sharks. It was a cruel sight. Luckily, I was able to get to almost empty large wooden barrel with drinking water at the bottom. At one point in front of m
e emerged a giant shark. Her lifeless and cold eyes stared at me. It opened its jaws to swallow me whole with the barrel, and at that moment, something huge carried it into the depths. So I got to the port of the Makuti, where I was thrown by the waves. Where with work, where with dice, I survive here, waiting for the moment to find a man like you, a man with ships.”

  Doron thought,

  “What do you want in return?”

  “One hundred sacks of grain and take me to my tribe. I will stay there. After 11 moons at the same time, I will wait on the shore, and you will bring the wheat in advance. My tribe will load your ships. This way you can get more tusks because you will come with fewer warriors.”

  “Drink now, you will go with me. This should be discussed with the chief, but I'm sure that it will happen since the trade with the Suri was interrupted. Commodity, which we exchanged with them was a big part of the load that we carried here.”

  Pokav's trader entered the inn and approached Doron's table,

  “The ships are loaded with grain. Here are two purses with gold gemi for the rest of the goods. I would love to see you again. Don't forget to bring a sack of flake for my master's fish soup again. This pipe from mammoth bone was a gift from him as a sign of gratitude.”

  The merchant left, and the two men continued to drink. The next day, the three ships sailed towards the Garva shores. On the fifth day, the vessels entered the mouth of the broad and deep river Kamcha. Alongside both banks, hundreds of wooden houses plastered with clay were chaotically scattered, surrounded by dense vegetation. Various rural animals roamed the meadows. On a bigger, widely carved place, more significant buildings stood out. The ships docked and the slaves tied them to a wooden port. Doron ordered them to unload everything in the warehouses and, accompanied by Marak, he went to the only stone building rising in the small town.

  Chief Satyr-Sydyk was waiting inside. He was a huge man, dressed in the skins of exotic animals. There were golden rings on his nose and ears. His whole body, including the head, was tattooed. His word was the law. His fame was carried along the entire river and into the woods. He killed a saber-toothed tiger in an inevitable battle when he was only 17 years old.

  Around a large wooden table, knitted bamboo chairs covered with snakeskin were lying around. Already sitting, Doron reported, “Great Hafa Satyr-Sydyk, a big storm overtook us, and one of the ships sank. The entire cargo was lost. This time I bring only two bags of gold gemi and three ships with grain. However, fate has smiled on us. This is Marak, from the far north,” the man explained in detail about the mammoth graveyard to the chief.

  Satyr-Sydyk listened carefully and asked, “How many warriors will you need?”

  Marak intervened, “The first time, my tribe will not guard us, but near the place, there aren't any tribes. However, you need to prepare sleds, because everything is covered with snow and ice at the moment.”

  “Good, I and 50 selected warriors will accompany you. I want to see for myself what is the situation there. If what I heard is true, I will help your tribe to expand its territory there and build a fortress. Thus the trade between us will prosper,” growled Hafa. “Let Marak be my sworn brother. I don't want him to lack anything during his stay here.”

  Doron handed him the pipe,

  “This is a gift from Pokav.”

  Chief, visibly pleased, took a bag full of herbs and tested his new acquisition. After a while, he entered into another dimension and waved to the guests to leave.

  Three wooden ships sailed for the sea. In front was the chief with 50 warriors, Doron and Marak. On the twentieth day with a tailwind, they entered a lake flowing into the sea. The snow whizzed through the air. The vessels stopped near the frozen water. Everyone, including the slaves, was prudently dressed in thick leather.

  First, they released the sleds pulled by slaves. The soldiers regrouped and got away from the ice on the rocky shore in columns. On the ships stayed part of the crew, which continued to maneuver and direct them in the opposite direction.

  “In these rocks ahead of us, there is a passageway that leads to the graveyard. Follow me,” enthusiastically said Marak.

  Above them rose overhanging cliffs of the canyon. Entering the winding passage, an infinite field with piles of mammoth bones was revealed. Hafa remained speechless,

  “What are you waiting for?” He shouted spitefully. “Load the sleds before I rip your hearts!”

  Slaves rushed to the graveyard like crazy and began to carry bones with vehicles to the ships. The soldiers scattered and imposed control. Chief Satyr-Sydyk, Doron, and Marak entered into the canyon while the ships were being loaded, discovering more and more piles of the priceless commodity. Hafa climbed on a rock, and as far as he could see, there were only piles of bones covered with snow. Thoughts rushed into his head, "Ah, why do I have only three ships? Bones here are endless. With such wealth, I could even seize the power of Dul in Dakush. Nobody has seen or heard of such a field of bones!" Getting immersed, the chief picked up a big chunk of rock and with roar threw it down the slope. He was like possessed by an evil spirit. Below, the slaves scrambled seeing him. Fear gripped their hearts. Everyone knew the strength and power of Hafa.

  “Doron,” he cried, “is the grain loaded?”

  “Yes, just say when you want to leave?”

  “Good. Marak lead us to your tribesmen!

  Ten warriors remained to look after the slaves. Hafa followed the guide with the rest of the guards. The sleds pulled behind them were filled with grain. They left the confines of the canyon, and flat steppes covered with snow appeared before them.

  “There is a small friendly tribe, with which we had an agreement, through which territory we must pass if we do not want to lose another day. My wife is from there, and they know me. We can quickly move if we offer a gift.”

  “Not only a gift, but we will also make a proposal,” interrupted the chief. “So I took another ten sacks of grain.”

  Not long after, they entered the village of the small tribe of Kotrags. With the translation of Marak, they quickly understood each other, and the elders were pleased even more after receiving the grain.

  Day and a half later, they arrived in the village of the guide.

  There were scary guttural sounds with protracted whine,

  “A, U, A, U! Oh-Oh-Oh! A,U!”

  With pointed spears towards them, a detachment of warriors with painted faces surrounded the newcomers. A midget descended, touching the invaders with quick movements, screaming,

  “A-kura-mara-tata...”

  At one point, he stopped at Marak. He lifted both hands and turned to his own people, saying his name. The midget withdrew, and the elder stepped forward, staring at the man,

  “Is it you or you are a spirit? Who are these men with you?” He asked.

  “It's me, Yaro. These men with me will help our tribe.”

  “Auu, Auu, Auoo,” seated near the large fire after being invited Satyr-Sydyk and his men satiating their hunger with tasty meat, were watching the dance of the tribal shamans.

  The elders have decided who will be the new chief. They were unanimous. The eldest went in front and raised both hands, staring at the sky, and everybody subsided. He spoke, and Marak was translating for the guests,

  “Children of the Great Mother Goddess, the council decided. My son was taken from the great sea. Between us, there is a worthy man, our new chief who can lead us. Even the mighty god of the seas has kept him alive. With his wisdom, he brought us new brothers, with which our tribe will endure. Now the "dragon" from the lower land will condemn him...”

  At this point, the circle of elders dissolved and in the middle was seen the sitting hunched figure all covered with furs. The so-called dragon, rose sharply, throwing the heavy animal cover backward. Satyr-Sydyk stiffened, impressed by the sight of the appearance of the three-meter tall man from the lower land. The dragon was naked with milky white skin and bright light blue eyes. He didn't have a single hair on his body. He had one ta
ttoo representing a spiraling snake around his body. Heightening, he jumped the huge stake with fire. Upon landing, was heard a loud rumble caused by his massive body. With skillful and strange movements, he started dancing circling the fire three times. He stopped abruptly and looked at the sky with hands held high. Then he roared in a deep voice,

  “Marak!”

  The whole tribe called out three times the name of its new chief. Marak rose and stepped forward. The elder covered him with the mantle of power, finely made of lion skin cape and а staff on top with a large crystal. He raised the scepter, and the whole tribe bowed as a sign of devotion.

  The new chief gestured, and a beautiful young girl came out from the crowd and approached. Marak took her hand and brought it to Satyr-Sydyk,

  “To strengthen our new union, I give you Tamara for your wife. She is from the lower land.”

  Hafa looked at this exotic beauty with milky white skin, light blue eyes and long blond hair, amazed. He stood up and took her hand,

  “You'll give birth to healthy and strong warriors for me.”

  After three days, the loaded ships sailed to Alave. Makuti met them happy at the sight of the load.

  Chapter VI

  Shibek

  On the vast meadows in front of the very gates of Gabo Dara, merrily people danced in the rhythm of the music surrounded by tables piled with food and drinks. While Tur Mo Draco thirstily drank from his cup, the slave behind him was waiting for the big circling eagle to land on his hand. It was a wedding gift from the ruler of Dakush. Loara watched her little son, Cobran, smiling and stroking him on the head. Gamar stood up with a cup in hand,

  “Here's to the wedding of the new Boril of the tenth city of Dul-Erhu Terter!”

  The assembledpeople allraised their cups. The feast lasted until dawn.

  After two days rest from the celebration, Mo Draco started out his duties. In front of the reception hall, a crowd of people was waiting for an audience with him. Nobles from the city and the neighboring tribes wanted to settle their relations with the new master,