Rise and Fall (Book 1)

by Joshua P. Simon

  Tobin nodded. “Well, my friend. It looks as though you’re running out of room here,” he said, turning his gaze back to the rows and stacks of shields, armor, swords, and barrels of arrows.

  Nachun gestured for Tobin to step back, and after he did, the shaman closed the thick door. “We secured two warehouses in other parts of the city. We’ll start sending items to them tonight.”

  “I see,” said Tobin, watching Nachun slide a heavy lock into place.

  The shaman faced Tobin. “And how is the new weapons training of the Kifzo coming along?”

  “Better than I expected. There was some grumbling about change at first, but it didn’t take long for many to see the advantages in some of your ideas. Though, to be honest, they were loathe to admit it.”

  “It seems that despite my best efforts, many still haven’t warmed to me.”

  “I’ve known some for close to twenty-five years and they still haven’t warmed to me.”

  Nachun nodded and after a pause asked. “So you said that the Kifzo have only seen advantages in some of my ideas? Where have they found fault?”

  “Like my first reaction to the crossbow, they don’t see it being practical to the Kifzo style of fighting. It has its benefits, but I think it should be used solely by the rest of our military. The weapon is too heavy and bulky for a Kifzo to carry in the heat of battle and it would likely slow us down. And remember, we would be in the front line of most engagements where its cumbersome nature would be more of a hindrance when reloading quarrels.”

  Nachun nodded. “I have no argument against that. Military strategy is best left to the experts such as yourself. I’m just glad that you’ve been open minded to the devices and found an appropriate use for them.”

  Tobin snorted. “Me an expert? You must be confusing me with my father, he does the planning. We only follow his lead.”

  “True, but how often have you had to think on your feet and make a decision without your father’s aid? Or even Kaz’s instruction as Warleader? I’m sure you can think of many times where your decision impacted the outcome of a mission. Your father provides a broad strategy, but you are tasked with making it work.”

  Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that before. There were times when we all but abandoned Father’s original plans. And there were times I had to change new plans Kaz had given me as new information arose.

  Nachun patted Tobin on the shoulder, startling the Kifzo from his thoughts. “Come. I want to show you something I’ve been working on. Actually, several somethings,” he said, face lighting up with excitement.

  “Where are we going?” Tobin asked as they entered the street.

  The shaman only smiled.

  * * *

  A cool breeze blew off the water as wind rushed in from the north and carried itself along the bay. The docks flowed with movement. Shipwrights overseeing the activity, barked orders at men and women alike who pushed and shoved all who stood in their way.

  Most of the dock’s workers were captives—slaves in Tobin’s mind—taken from the Orange Desert Clan after conquering Nubinya. It had been Nachun’s idea to use the powerful and influential captives as labor in order to lessen the chance of revolt. Tobin had not cared for the idea then, but Nachun’s argument that a growing empire needed extra laborers appealed to Bazraki. His father had wasted little time breaking in the captives during the trek from Nubinya to Juanoq. After a few days of public punishments for dissenters, no one dared question their new role in society. The captives had been tasked in many of the ship building processes.

  Nachun paced the docks, explaining in great detail each of the many projects underway. Ships of various shapes and sizes, all foreign to Tobin, caught his imagination. The feeling humbled him as a member of the Blue Island Clan, a people who prided themselves on their mastery of the water.

  How does a shaman from the Red Mountains of Hesh know so much?

  “This one is massive,” said Tobin, shouting over the clamor of activity around the frame.

  “It is a transport ship, carrying more men and supplies than anything ever seen in Hesh.”

  “But it is too large to come ashore. No other clan has a dock large enough to handle a ship this size. You can’t expect us to swim the distance while carrying supplies on our back.”

  Nachun chuckled. “Of course not.” The shaman pointed. “Smaller boats will be attached to either side of the ship and lowered by winch. Those will be used to come ashore.”

  “When did you start all of this?”

  The shaman looked up to the sky as if searching for an answer. “About a week after starting the weapon production. Your father was so pleased at my progress then, that he allowed me to pursue these ideas as well.”

  And yet this is the first I’ve heard of this? Am I just that lost in my own world not to see what is going on around me? “Where do you keep getting these ideas from, Nachun? How does a shaman from the Red Mountain Clan learn so much about weapons, armor, and now shipbuilding?”

  Nachun laughed. “It does seem strange, doesn’t it? But what can I say?” He tapped a finger to his skull. “The ideas come from here. I read something here, pick up something from someone there, and it just builds upon itself.” He shrugged. “Come to think of it, I’ve always been that way. I remember when I was just a boy, no more than ten or eleven I came up with an irrigation system for my father’s farm that soon everyone else copied and found success with. Seeing my ideas work was all the motivation I needed to try new ones.”

  Tobin grunted.

  Nachun smiled. “There is one more I want to show you.”

  The two walked down a bit further, coming upon a ship much further along than the others, though not quite as large as some. “This one will be finished long before the rest. More than twice the number of workers are assigned to it,” said the shaman.

  “What is its significance?” asked Tobin.

  “These new ships,” he said waving a hand, “will take some getting used to. It will take time to learn their tendencies and how to maneuver them properly in the water. This vessel,” he added, walking up to its side and slapping the hull, “will be the training tool to learn from. The sooner she gets into the water, the better.”

  “Father will be pleased to hear your foresight. He has always placed a great deal of emphasis on preparation.”

  The shaman’s face hardened and eyes grew distant. “I’ve learned its importance as well. Never again will I assume success.”

  An out of breath messenger from Bazraki’s personal guard arrived then and interrupted their conversation.

  “What is it?” asked Tobin.

  The messenger bowed in respect to Tobin and gave merely a nod to Nachun. Tobin glanced at the shaman but his face betrayed no anger by the slight. “El Olam wishes to speak with you both. I was instructed to bring you back to the palace immediately.”

  “Is something wrong?” asked Nachun.

  “It is not my place to speak on El Olam’s behalf,” said the guard in a stern voice.

  “Very well,” said Tobin. “Lead on.”

  * * *

  Bazraki stared out an open window with his back to the door and hands clasped behind him. He held his head high. Tobin found it odd for a ruler with such a large palace, sprawling over countless acres of land, to spend most of his time in its war room. Since Kaz’s disappearance, his father had even begun taking meals there, strategizing late into the night while pouring over his maps and the piles of information received from messengers.

  Tobin stood at the entranceway to the room, looking at the only parent he had known since he was five and wondered what the man had been like before his mother died. From what his uncle had told him, Bazraki had always been driven but it wasn’t until her passing that his quest for power and dominance over Hesh had become an obsession.

  She must have been special to him. What little I heard Kaz speak of her, I know he felt the same. And yet I remember nothing of my life during the time she was alive. Not her
touch, not her voice, not even her face.

  The guard announced their arrival. He could see now that his father coped with the loss of Kaz similarly to Tobin’s mother. His father’s goals of conquest became as grand as the walls he built around himself.

  And what would you do if I were to disappear, Father? Tobin was afraid to even pose such a question, unsure he wanted to hear the answer.

  Waving a hand to dismiss the guard, Bazraki turned to face them. Tobin noticed his father’s shoulders were bunched and the muscles in his jaw tightened and relaxed with each intake of breath.

  This can’t be good. Is it possible that he’s learned the truth about Kaz? No. Nachun swore that no one would discover anything. Why would that change now?

  “There has been an uprising in Nubinya,” said Bazraki, his voice flat.

  “When? By whom?” asked Nachun.

  “Weeks ago, though we just received word today. Some noble had remained hidden outside of the city until after our departure. He was able to rally enough supporters from the smaller hamlets to his cause. His rebellion killed over a hundred of our men before order was restored. More than double the causalities on their side. We captured the noble alive but torture does not work on the man. He will not tell us about his co-conspirators. The city is now undermanned and tension remains high. I need to send someone with a strong hand to crush any remnants of resistance before things get out of control once again.”

  “And you would have me go, Father?” asked Tobin. “I’m sorry,” he added with a bow, “El Olam.”

  His father glared at his son but ignored the mistake. “No. I have other plans for you.”

  “What would you have me do?” asked Tobin.

  “I need you to choose a Kifzo I can send to teach these people a lesson. We will send with this person twenty-five Kifzo and a hundred soldiers from our regular forces. You may choose the Kifzo only.”

  Tobin was confused. “Why would you have me select the Kifzo?”

  “Because I’ve decided that until your brother returns to us that someone must act as Warleader in his stead. I’ve had my doubts about you in the past, but since his disappearance you have shown me something with your training. The rest of your brethren have responded by following your example and are training with a renewed vigor. Since they are now under your command, you should decide which you can do without.”

  Act in Kaz’s stead? I can’t believe that after all this time with no word from the kidnappers, he still thinks Kaz will return. And me? Warleader? That can’t be possible.

  Memories that Tobin had not had since he was a boy flooded his mind. He used to dream about making his father proud by leading soldiers into battle and conquering in his name.

  But when he was fourteen and Kaz fifteen, the Testing to choose the next Warleader came. Five boys, including Tobin and Kaz, were the best among the Kifzo. Kaz became Warleader by doing things Tobin would not consider.

  Any dream he had of leading the Kifzo and making his father proud ended that day. But now I can prove to my father that he had made a mistake all those years ago. I can… A small shooting pain in his ankle jarred him from his thoughts as he shifted his weight to his good leg. He closed his mouth, realizing it still hung open in shock from Bazraki’s news. “I’m sorry but how can I lead the Kifzo with my ankle?”

  Bazraki nodded. “I’ve already thought of that. You will have it healed.”

  “Shamans have tried to heal my ankle before. They’ve all said that too much time had passed for them to heal it any better than what it is now.”

  “Yes, but I’ve been assured that those results would have been different if treated sooner.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Tobin.

  “It’s simple really. I’m not sure why the thought had not occurred to me before. We are going to break your ankle again and then heal it anew,” said Bazraki.

  “Is that possible?” asked Tobin, glancing toward Nachun.

  Nachun nodded. “Yes. But, the ankle will need to be practically shattered.”

  Tobin cringed at the thought, and his ankle throbbed harder as if in anticipation of such trauma. And what if this doesn’t work? Will I even be able to walk? He looked back to his father. “Do I have a say in this?”

  “No,” said Bazraki in a tone that meant his decision was made. “You just implied that a Warleader cannot lead with only one leg.”

  “Then when will it happen?” asked Tobin in a low voice.

  “Tonight, after you have made your selections,” said Bazraki. “But first I will have your answer. Who should I send to Nubinya?”

  “Durahn,” Tobin blurted. That came out with little trouble.

  His father raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? He is a fierce warrior.”

  “And therefore will bring the city quickly under control.”

  “Will you not miss him in battle?” asked Bazraki.

  “Battle?”

  “Nubinya’s revolt will not hinder my plans. We will push forward,” said Bazraki.

  I wonder if anything would hinder your plans. “All Kifzo have skill. You have always taught us that one man should not be placed higher than the rest, except as Warleader. We will not suffer from the loss of one man, not even one the size of Durahn.” If anything we will be stronger. If I am to be Warleader, I will not have him undermine my authority as Kaz so often allowed. Why my brother never rid himself of Durahn, I’ll never know.

  “Then the matter is closed. The other twenty-five are yours to choose as well. I do not need to know their names. I have already isolated the hundred that will accompany Durahn from the rest of my army. They will set out first thing in the morning.”

  Tobin nodded and was ready for his father to dismiss him when Nachun blurted out a question. “Might I offer a suggestion?” said the shaman.

  Bazraki inclined his head. “What is it?”

  “I thought that now would be a good time to let Tobin in on your future plans, specifically those we’ve recently discussed.”

  Bazraki eyed his son with a contemplative look.

  “I suppose you are right,” said Bazraki, beginning to pace the room. “We will invade the Yellow Plain, conquering Actur and the Yellow Clan next.”

  “The Yellow Plain Clan? They are more than double our size,” said Tobin.

  Bazraki halted, glaring at his son. “Does their size scare you? Maybe I made a mistake in selecting you as Warleader. Kaz would never shy away from such a challenge.”

  Tobin clenched his fists in frustration but kept his emotions from creeping into his voice. “You made no mistake. Their number could be ten times our strength and I would lead the Kifzo into battle and victory. I was merely stating fact.”

  Bazraki let out a grunt, its significance a mystery to Tobin. “Good.” He paused. “But you are right. They are much larger, even with those warriors from the Desert Clan we absorbed into our own ranks. I do not doubt our victory, but I am also not so blind that I can’t see our losses would be great and would weaken us for the future.” His father continued pacing before returning to his spot by the window.

  He has a plan, but he wants me to ask just so he can be smug about it. With each success, his arrogance grows. Fine, I’ll humor you. “How will you circumvent such an outcome?”

  “Nachun’s weapons and armor should help. But that is not enough. Any man that dies today is one fewer who can fight for me tomorrow,” said Bazraki, still gazing out over Juanoq and once again growing silent.

  Tobin sighed to himself. How long am I going to have to keep this up? “What else is there?” he asked.

  Bazraki turned. “The Gray Marshes.”

  “The Gray Marshes? I don’t understand,” said Tobin.

  Bazraki nodded to Nachun and resumed pacing. “Tell him.”

  The shaman cleared his throat. “Apparently some time ago, before conquering the Orange Desert Clan, your father sent Kaz to meet with Mawkuk, the leader of the Gray Marsh Clan, and offered him an alliance. However, sinc
e your brother’s disappearance, they have not responded to our latest messages. You and I are to leave for Cypronya and meet with their war council to finalize terms in person.”

  “When do we leave?” asked Tobin.

  “As soon as the healers say you are safe to travel,” said Nachun.

  “You will not fail me,” said Bazraki. “Is that understood?”

  “Yes, El Olam.”

  * * *

  Halfway down the staircase, safe from his father’s ears, Tobin swung about to face Nachun. “So, how much of that were you already aware of?”

  Nachun shrugged. “All of it, more or less.”

  Tobin threw up his hands. “It would have been nice to have some sort of warning.”

  “You’re focusing on the negative. Your father is starting to understand your worth now that Kaz is out of the way, just as I said he would. Taking advantage of such an opportunity is what you should focus on.” He paused and started walking once again. Tobin followed close behind. “I had thought of telling you sooner—but does it matter if you found out a week ago or today? I doubt your reaction would be any different, and a more sincere reaction is best.”

  “Why would he want to wait until the last minute?”

  “Because he can. Power does strange things to people once they have it.”

  Tobin thought about Kaz’s behavior as well as his father’s and couldn’t help but agree with Nachun. “So it does. Still, I never thought my father would consider an alliance with anyone.”

  Nachun grunted. “After Mawkuk ignored his messages, your father had all but changed his mind and was ready to attack instead for their slight. I had to convince him that sending an emissary to solidify an alliance would not be a sign of weakness. Then I reminded him that his plan to conquer the Yellow Plain was a more logical decision rather than have our forces isolated in the Gray Marshes with an enemy between us.”

  “Sound reasoning,” said Tobin.

  The shaman cleared his throat. Tobin followed Nachun’s gaze and saw Lucia at the end of the hallway, her arm draped over one of the servants as they spoke. She wore a simple brown dress, as plain as the serving woman’s.