During the day, the healer was admitted to the palace. A guard brought her into the bathroom of the ruler. Terter was laying on his belly in a shallow pool with hot mineral water. The middle-aged woman dressed in white bowed,
“Come in, how long do I have to wait for you. My wife said you are good at what you do.”
The woman bowed again and took some herbs from her basket. Dul-Erhu went out of the pool and lay on the wooden bed covered with a soft cotton cloth.
During the massage, another guard knocked on the door and announced,
“Lord, Boril Mo Draco arrived with important news.”
“Let him enter,” shouted Terter nervously.
After a while, with greetings came the Tur of Dakush,
“Yes, leave the cheers. Speak plainly.”
“I'll wait. The conversation is for your ears only.”
After finishing the massage, the woman left the bathroom. The two men went into the pool and relaxed in the warm water,
“Tell me now, what are this news that could not wait?”
“I have information about significant amounts of mammoth bones. Tribe Garva has control over the field. Its location is a secret. My people brought to my attention that ships are being loaded farther north through the great sea, which means that it is not in their territory. I sent someone to find out where it is.”
“Yeees... This is bad and good for us. It depends on how we will take advantage of it, but one thing is for certain, if we do not stop the flow of golden gemi to Satyr-Sydyk, he may believe in himself and unite the entire north against us.”
“It is possible. Nobody knows how many thousands of warriors can gather if he pays in gold. Is there no way to force the Makuti not to deal with him?”
“It would be easier to defeat them than forbid them from doing the trade. But if we attack them, our borders to the north and east will be vulnerable. We are surrounded by enemies Draco. Each of our moves is carefully watched and measured.”
“If I find the deposits, will you give me the fleet of Boril Kearon from the third city?”
“It is yours. You only get to the information. You know I have always supported your ambitions. You're like a son to me. Yet mammoth bones have to come to me in Dakush.”
The conversation went in another direction,
“It is like a web of intrigue here. Maron, who is close to my wife, married his nephew Urta to the daughter of Karpa-du Valtsek, Ksavia. The kinship of those two families gathered a significant amount of gold in the wrong hands. An interesting union: a moneylender with a treasurer,” laughed the ruler loudly and continued. “Maron asked Deodora at the wedding of his nephew to appoint Urta as your deputy for the vacant place of Odisak who died in the battle with the Suri. I could not refuse her, it’s her family. Be careful with him because he's ambitious.”
“This complicates things. My authority in the army may drop through Urta. It is best to send him in the second city so he will be far from the troops. There is a garrison there, but it is not big enough to be a threat.”
“That's good advice. So I will do. I can not risk a revolt in the capital.”
They came out of the pool and Terter said to the guard to gather the council and to tell Urta to come. Not long after, men in two opposing rows sat in the room. At the end of the hall, centrally against them, Terter stood on his throne and Mo Draco next to him. Urta entered and bowed deeply, standing between the rows against the ruler.
“What will you command, Dul-Erhu Terter?”
“Vicar Tur Urta, you know the second city is very far from the capital. Northern tribes make inroads there, and our population suffers from them. The garrison is not sufficient, so I'll give you a hundred people, and I command you to restore the order there in ten days. Your title carries responsibility. Since you'll be there for a long time, I will allow you to take your family with you. You will leave after the games. As you know, they will be held in three days.”
Urta bowed,
“Thank you for the trust, Dul-Erhu Terter,” and left the room.
“Decent men of Dakush, our empire is big and our enemies countless. The farthest corners should be guarded well. Bain of the Sarani in the east is gathering an army only the gods know how big. In the north Satyr-Sydyk from Garva is gaining strength and you know of the backstabbing Makuti that just are waiting for an opportunity.”
One of the men from the Council rose from his chair and bowed,
“Dul-Erhu, I do not know whether the other councilors are aware, but Bain was captured by Tur Mo Draco and released by him. What is the reason for this?”
Boril looked at him quickly and was just about to start walking with a clenched hand, but the ruler stopped him,
“I know in detail about the situation. Nobody was released, he simply escaped with the help of a slave. The guards who kept him have been punished. Stop eating yourselves like dogs,” got up from his throne Terter. “I trust Tur Mo Draco, unlike other people. After I unravel the rumors, I will fill the square with gallows. Leave the room!”
The men left after the ruler roughed them out. He drank a cup of mead and turned towards Tur of Dakush,
“Do you see what happens? Foreign interests have already captured my Council. Will you participate in the games?”
“How many times can I win?” Smiled Draco. “I will make way for the young. But I brought a champion from Gabo Dara to represent the city.”
“Well, how long have I been waiting for these games. It's been pretty boring recently, except for the intrigues and hunting...”
Urta burst foamy into the house of his uncle,
“What happened?” Asked Maron after seeing him so angry.
“They sent me in the province to keep the second city!”
“Foresighted is Terter, but he can not keep you there forever. Sooner or later you will return. There you will get an even greater fame from the constant skirmishes with the northern tribes. During this time, I will work on Deodora. Only she can get under the skin of the ruler. Now concentrate on winning the games! Can you deal with Draco?
Urta waved his head,
“I'll crush him!”
Three days later...
The city was packed with crowds of people from all corners of the empire. In inns, there were disputes and stakes for the winner this year.
“Too bad that Mo Draco will not participate. I'd bet on him! But I put ten copper du on his man from Gabo Dara.”
“And I put twenty on Urta!”
Soon they were joined by other men, and the stakes continued. Trumpets and horns blew, and people streamed forth on the arena. It had entrances on all sides. Extensive tunnels brought forth the viewers on benches outdoor. The lodge of the ruler was in the place of honor and higher than others. Dul-Erhu was there on an armchair, surrounded by his wife, Mo Draco, various nobles and the royal retinue, which served food and drinks to all.
In the center of the arena stood a large detachable iron cage. For opening the games each year, two of the best saber-toothed tigers fought inside.
Dul-Erhu stood up and raised his hands in a sign which meant the games were to begin, in which the endless crowds roared with joy calls. Of the two adjoint, small cells came out two giant saber-toothed, acrimonious from the howling mob. Going around in a circle, they began to prowl and growl ferociously. They threw themselves at each other, and there was a bloody battle. The animals rolled, terribly slamming at the iron cage while one managed to bite the neck of the other. Gnawing his throat, snoring and blood spout was heard around him. The winner was again the old tiger who won a third consecutive year.
The cages were emptied and quickly dismantled. The slaves moved out the parts. On the arena came out the ten representatives of the great cities. The trumpeter cried presenting them one by one,
“From Dakush, Vicar Tur Urta!” The crowd roared pleased. “From Galan, stotnic Anur! From Shuman, guardsman Djukara. From Charon, stotnic Baral. From the fifth city Unur, stotnic Fasco. From Tristar, guards
man Choni. From Goldenston, guardsman Piasena. From Raula, stotnic Risco. From Batak, zantur Kosa-Buro. And from the tenth city Gabo Dara, guardsman Shporta.”
From a long table, each of the warriors raised a big bow and arrow. At the other end of the arena, a giant rabbit was released. The hunters bent the string and aimed. There was a flutter in the air, and eight of them pierced the animal. The crowd roared pleased. Representatives of the fifth and eighth city dropped out. Followed a race with wrestling between several slaves. The winner was released each year and generously rewarded.
The time has come for the next race between representatives of the Great cities. Riding horses, players had to hit a wooden dummy with a spear from a great distance. The spear of Urta stuck in the heart of the doll. The other three who managed hit the target and continue were Shporta, Anur, and Kosa-Buro.
Before the last, third round, a horse race, riding bulls and a fight between a crocodile, three wolves, a saber-toothed tiger, and bear, all in the big cage was organized for the crowd. Once the spectacle passed and the crowd calmed down, the arena trumpeters announced the draw,
“From the city of Batak, zantur Kosa-Buro will come against Vicar Tur Urta from Dakush. The winner of this fight will fight the winner of the match between stotnic Anur of Galan and guardsman Shporta of Gabo Dara. Let the battle begin.”
The audience rose to their feet to see the fights better. Everyone was rooting for their favorite since many of them had made bets. The four horsemen armed only with short swords raced against each other. There was sound of iron, neighing of horses. The battle took place in the entire arena. Kosa-Buro lashed out at the head of Urta, but the Vicar Tur predicted it, bent over his horse's neck and, turning, hit him in the shoulder. The man fell from his horse, apparently wounded and bleeding, during which the opponent jumped from his horse and resting his sword on his neck, leaving him alive. The wounded man rose slowly, bowed to Urta and left the arena. At the other end, the battle ended in favor of Shporta. Anur was carried out badly wounded. The two winners faced each other, holding their bloody swords, looking angry. The smell of blood had turned them into wild beasts. Both were young and strong, well-trained men. There was silence in the crowds. Terter signaled, and the final battle began. Shporta immediately swung with his sword. Without shifting, Urta deflected his opponent, subjecting leg and stumbling him on the ground behind him. Vicar Tur turned out to stab the opponent, but he was thrown by foot and rolled over sideways. A nervous tic passed through his body. Blood flowed from his thigh. The men began to prowl in a circle. Shporta with deft movement tried to stab his opponent's heart. Urta, however, saw through it, turned and with a rhythmically intense movement of his hand cut off his opponent's head.
“Waaaaa,” the audience roared in ecstasy, intoxicated by the view and the gushing blood from the neck of the murdered. The echoes were heard all the way to the mountains. Thousands of people started frantically chanting the name of Urta. He bowed to Terter and waited. The ruler came down surrounded by his guards, and the winner knelt. Dul-Erhu hung on his neck the golden medallion given to all champions of the arena.
“The feast in your honor will begin tonight. Because you are a winner, I'll postpone your departure by three days so you can rest.”
Urta bowed and, limping, went to get the wound on his feet bandaged. Young slaves bathed him and changed his clothes in Terter Palace, taking care of all his needs.
On the table, Karpa-du Valtsek spoke,
“Urta, leave Ksavia with me for a few months until you see how things are in Galan. After all, she has all the amenities with me.”
“Uncle, what do you say?”
Maron scratched his greasy rear,
“This is a good idea. After two months, I'll bring her to you. That will give me an occasion to see you. Whatever we say, it is best to be private in four eyes. I don't want to send information through slaves. You see how suspicious Terter has become.”
Chapter IX
The luck of Yuzil
The six ships of Garva landed on the coast of the mammoth bone. Eleven moons had passed, but nobody was waiting on the shore. Slaves brought down the sleds and unloaded the grain for the tribes,
“What will you command, Hafa?” Doron asked.
“There is something rotten here! Nobody welcomed us! Load the grain on the sleds and I want every warrior to follow us!”
The army ordered in rows of four and set off in front of the sleds pulled by the slaves. They reached the village of Kotrags, but it was burned to the ground.
“Send two scouts ahead to check what has happened. We'll wait here.”
Doron personally accompanied them. They quietly crept to the village of Marak. It was all enclosed by a wooden fence and warriors of the tribe circled everywhere. The Garvanian approached the fence, and the guard recognized him. He opened the door to enter, as the chief had personally met him,
“I know it's been 11 moons, but a few things have changed since our last meeting.”
“I see you've made improvements to the village,” Doron smiled. “Send news to Hafa,” he said to one of his warriors. The scout shook his head and set off.
The rest of the Garvanians arrived in two days. They sat around the fire to relax and eat, and Satyr-Sydyk entered Marak's hut,
“What happened? Kotrags were killed and as far as I can see, your numbers have decreased as well...”
“We have sixty warriors after the last slaughter. For the tribe of Mhambe, the mammoth cemetery is sacred. We also offered them grain, but they refused. They killed all male Kotrags and took their women. We found out too late otherwise we would have helped them. This happened right after you left. The most recent assault on our village was less than one moon ago.”
“Are they living far away and how big is their army?” Asked Hafa.
“Probably no more than a hundred warriors, after all the bloodshed. Their village is located beyond the canyon a day's journey from the mammoth bone. It's surrounded by a wall of wooden pickets. However, the observation platform is just over the gate. There are a river and vast forest around them. We can make twenty wooden ladders and pass the wall on two sides and kill them all during the night.”
“Won't they expect us?” Doron asked in turn. “Their spies should spot us from afar?”
“They have, but with our numerical superiority, what can they do?”
“We leave at dawn!”
At the canyon, the slaves left with the sleds to load bones and continued westward to Mhambe. The next day, the wooden village of the warlike tribe appeared in front of them. Nearly five hundred people in array stood before him and waited.
Satyr-Sydyk issued an order to his army to prepare for battle without batting an eye,
“Marak, deploy your men east of mine. I'll take the hit. When I give you a signal, go around the fight and hit them from the back.”
The Garvanians regrouped in their typical battle order and slowly started walking towards the enemy. The martial drums rang from across. A swarm of arrows sped towards the attackers, but the people of Hafa had shields under which they managed to hide. Mhambe shouted and rushed forward. This time, Sydyk's archers shot arrows and dozens of the savages fell. The collision was powerful. The Garvanians had an advantage in their weaponry. They had iron swords and spears and light armor and shields. There was carnage. Bloody corpses collapsed behind the passing warriors of Satyr. He waved and Marak's forces hit from behind. The few surviving enemies were captured. Women and children from the village surrendered.
“A hundred people you say?” Joked Hafa.
“They gathered everybody who could be armed.”
“Marak, there are women and children from the Kotrags. Take them all to multiply. I will get the men as slaves. Leave the Mhambe women with some of your warriors here. That way, you will control this area. I will leave some of my men too, if they desire,” Hafa turned towards the army. “Are you willing to live here? You will get land, a house and two women?”
Only three came forward,
“Well, if so, you three can stay, and I will bring more than a hundred people from the main city on the next course.”
They loaded ships with mammoth bone and the slaves safely arrived in Alave, one of the ports of the Makuti. Pokav noticed the ships at the pier and recognized them by the flag of Garva. He ran up the stairs and shouted,
“Send slaves to unload the goods directly to the warehouse. I want everything to be tidy.”
Governor of the port welcomed chief Satyr-Sydyk, whom he had met in the previous deal,
“Long time has passed Hafa, I see you increased your fleet. What do you bring me this time?”
“Mammoth bones and first-rate slaves, Pokav. That beauty is your gift from me.”
The greedy trader touched the girl and then looked her on all sides, happy,
“You know how to pamper a connoisseur like me. I'll make it up. Come in for a drink while my people check the goods and load the grain.”
Three men, Doron included, went into the stone building of the governor and he pulled out a pipe. While they were smoking, some slaves served them wine with exotic appetizers.
“Well, you have killed lots of mammoths this time. My master is amazed by your previous load. After this, however, he will expand the trade far south.”
“I manage, that's why I have so many troops. Not an easy job. I am thinking of expanding a little more. Only Dakush is a thorn in the eye. Why aren't they good traders like you?”
“We are on good terms with everyone. Our empire is spacious and our army is not small. Whoever attacks us will break his own head.”
“That's true Pokav,” Hafa said slowly because of the effect of the smoked herbs and leaned back comfortably.
“You will be accommodated to relax, and tomorrow you will receive what is yours.”
The next day, the ships were filled to the brim with wheat. Hafa received a hundred bags, each filled with 50 golden gemi. They parted with friendly greetings and the ships sailed back to the main town Garva. After arriving, Satyr-Sydyk ordered Doron to unload the wheat and to find a hundred people for the new settlement. The merchant had been promoted and was responsible for all trade with mammoth bones. Hafa decided to act on another matters with the gold. His intentions were to use the gemi and unite all the tribes around him.
The Lost Empire of Dakush: Rise of the Tribes (Book Book 1) Page 5