The Heirs of History: A Nation From Nothing

by T. Josiah Haynes

  The dusk sky pulsed with an orange aura. Crackle, pop. Stars blurred through waves in the air. “Help!” from somewhere. “Bring the buckets!” And Salyryd ran. Falhadn’s feet were quick to follow.

  Pails of water piled in a nearby tent. A dozen men of all races rushed back and forth. Salyryd grabbed onto a pail. It sloshed as she ran towards the source of the screams and the orange. Falhadn did the same.

  Falhadn followed Salyryd around a corner. The Segchyhah’s main armory tent was disintegrating within a cloud of black smoke. Only skyward could Falhadn clearly make out the blood red inferno. But I was going to go with them, she thought calmly, and Falhadn threw the water from her pail onto the rising blaze.

  Chapter twenty-one

  Queen of Hrashhill

  “Justice for Laebmhill!” A crowd had gathered outside the Cavern of Congress. “Release Kraek! Release Laebm! Release Fal!”

  Falhill placed a hand on Balgray’s arm. “How are we going to get in?”

  “Push through?”

  But when young Rudlaarhill spit at Falhill, he suspected the rabble would not allow for pushing through. “Please, let your congress meet, so we can discuss how to deal with the situation at hand.”

  “The Segchyhah aren’t wanted!” shouted Greishadn, newborn son in arms. My own wife delivered that boy in your arms. But Falhill wondered if that should win him any loyalty anyhow.

  “Whoever has been setting fire to those invaders’ tents is a hero!” cried Weanhall the elder.

  “Kraek is innocent!” yelled Gaerhill Graymatter, Kraek’s own wedson. Falhill remembered hearing of Gaerhill back in the capital — when Falhill served as a royal scribe. Gaerhill was renowned throughout the capital for his silver-gray tinctures that women drank to “enhance” their fertility, though most knew the concoction achieved the opposite. “Kraek has never committed a crime!” Shelwyn, Falhill recalled. Kraek is no innocent.

  Balgray stepped forward. “Kraek is a threat to this community.”

  Falhill had an idea. “Perhaps it was Kraek who tried to murder Traamis the True.” It was a bad idea.

  Kraekhill and his wedmother Henhadn charged at Falhill. Kraekhill’s sword scraped against leather as it flailed into the sunlight. Footsteps, from behind. Rudfynhill appeared and pointed his own blade at Kraek’s son. Kraekhill raised his hands, sheathed his steel. “But I will not suffer another lie against my father.”

  Theral arrived alongside Yrnhill the younger. “What is this? Gaerhill?”

  Theral’s son Gaerhill spoke for the crowd; “We the people demand that Kraek, Laebm, and Fal all be released from their cells!” As Gaerhill Graymatter shifted, Falhill noticed Primhill stood amidst the rioters. Wedbrother, even you have fallen under Kraek’s spell?

  Farmer Hraena made a grand gesture with his saggy arms. “We the people demand open elections for congressional office.”

  “And we the people demand that the Segchyhah be sent away!” added young Rudlaarhill, holding hands with his very round wife.

  The Drysword arrived hand in hand with Sarahedeen. “What’s this nonsense? Kraekhill, Gaerhill, all of you — let us pass!”

  Hraena — Dreahall’s other grandfather, who openly hated Drea — took a step towards Drea. “Open elections, like in the motherland.”

  “You are delusional,” Drea told him, “and you all are unreasonable. We do not submit to mob rule. We legislate and carry out law by way of congressional procedure.”

  Rudlaarhill stumbled forward and hollered, “We don’t want congressional rule. We want Kraek! General Kraek knows how to rule this colony. We don’t want you, Drysword — you and your pets.” Rudlaarhill made a most repulsive face towards Falhill. What could you mean by that, bastard?

  Drea grinned. “You want a man like Kraek as king? Then sail back to Eangd and live under the Unholy King’s thumb. He’ll have you killed unless you worship him. Aren’t you an atheist?”

  “Kraek is different, old man.”

  “Kraek is not the same man, no. But he’d be as tyrannical as the Unholy King. And I’ll remind you that Yaangd didn’t lose his mind until a year or two ago. We need the seven congressers to avoid the same situation.”

  “Then, I reiterate,” Hraena snapped, “allow for the popular election of congressers.”

  Drea scoffed. “Look, I understand that you’re upset. Seven of us agreeing takes longer than a single king deciding and maybe getting it wrong.”

  “It’s been two weeks!”

  Housewife Henhadn added, “And the fires haven’t stopped.”

  “I understand. I do,” Drea assured them. “In fact, I intend to propose to the congress today that we release Potter Fal from custody.”

  Gaerhill let out a derisive laugh. “You don’t need congressional approval for that! You’re just trying to make it seem like you’re listening, but you shouldn’t have imprisoned her in the first place! That’s my wife’s mother! Fal isn’t a threat to anybody!”

  She put this together, in part, Falhill thought. “Please, if you’ll just let us through, we can trudge through our meeting. Then, we can inform all of you of our decisions—” But a sharp sting against his forehead stopped Falhill midsentence.

  Everyone could hear the Azure Artery running peacefully into the Sea of Independence. Then another rock flew through the air and landed against Drea’s cheek. Shouting cut through the silence. A dozen rocks soared towards the congressers. Though Gaerhill Graymatter tried to stop his fellow rioters — “That’s my mother!” — many chucked pebbles.

  Denhall arrived and drew his steel, as did Slumswain. “No,” Drea commanded, “don’t retaliate!” But a rock hit Denhall in his face, at which point he raised his blade. Falhill stopped him from carrying out his justice, though he would not have acted outside his rights.

  Larger stones began to glide on the summer winds. When one struck Theral in the temple, she tumbled over, and the rocks stopped. Gaerhill Graymatter cried and ran for his mother, and the rest of the rioters scrambled.

  Denhall gave chase. Rudfynhill picked Theral up. “I’ll bring her to Aerhall’s,” his voice quivered. Rudfynhill sprinted as fast as he could with an old woman draped over his shoulder, and Gaerhill followed.

  Falhill attended to Balgray’s bruises, Sarahedeen looked for contusions on Drea’s body, and Yrnhill cowered behind a small tree. Denhall returned, gasping for breath. “It’s not safe here. Shall we convene at the prison building?”

  Falhill sneered. “Perhaps we should get the Segchyhah to donate some guardsmen.”

  Young Baljesshall sentried in the corner of the gaolhouse. They had only built two cells. Perhaps too optimistic, Falhill supposed. In one cell sat Laebm, defeated in a corner. In the other cell stood Kraek and Fal — husband and wife, oil and vinegar.

  “Come to execute us?” Kraek scowled. The grizzled war hero stood upright, but his cheeks had begun to sink inward.

  Back when Kraek resigned from the congress — and told us the disturbing tale of his father’s demise — the truncated congress had met at the western torch-border of Independence. Once Drea and Falhill told Balgray, Yrnhill, and Denhall what happened, Balgray suggested, “Our new congresser will have to appease Theral then. If we appease Theral, we appease Kraek, and we appease his followers.”

  “Easier declared than achieved.” Drea’s lips squirmed. “Best not to appease Kraek, who has essentially declared war on the congress, don’t you think?”

  Balgray shrugged. “Kraek’s daughter, Theral’s weddaughter — Herbalist Gaerhadn is well-liked by all.”

  Yrnhill scrunched up his already pinched face. “We did agree to allow the people to vote for a nominee to the congress. Hrabhill the elder would have been their nominee, but we all know how that ended.”

  “Not in these volatile times,” Drea answered. “Denhall, have you a nomination?”

  “For congresser? Have we considered someone who has good graces with the Segchyhah?”

  Balgray chuckled. “I was just ab
out to suggest my wedson, Ganjinhill.”

  “Actually, I wanted to suggest Falhadn.”

  Balgray’s eyebrows raised as high as they could. “Teacher Falhadn? A congresser? What qualifications—?”

  “She was raised by a governor on the motherland. She is wife to a congresser. She can already speak the Segchyhah language better than anyone besides Ganjinhill. And she has befriended their leader Salyryd.”

  Falhill knew his wife had spent time with Representative Salyryd the Roamer. He hoped it turned out for the best, but it started to feel like she slipped through his fingers — and after they had done so much to strengthen their marriage.

  Balgray plastered on a perturbed smile. “Ganjinhill spent months with the Segchyhah, learning their language, befriending their Representatives.”

  Falhill waved his hand at her. “We need Ganjinhill to remain with the Segchyhah. But Falhadn wouldn’t accept the role of congresser either.”

  Denhall’s face was blank. “You don’t think so?”

  “I know my wife. And I wouldn’t want to welcome whispers of nepotism anyway.”

  “What about Sarahedeen?” Yrnhill posited.

  The congressers stood silent in their crooked circle — Rudfynhill soundlessly keeping watch a few feet away. Balgray finally answered, “The girl who serves beer at her father’s tavern?”

  Falhill knew Drea had betrothed Sarahedeen to his own grandson. Can’t have enough allies. Drea and Falhill both agreed with the choice.

  Denhall sighed. “The commoners will see her as one of them.”

  “Especially if we frame her that way.” Drea grinned. “We shall release some propaganda to that end.”

  Denhall nodded. “I’ll have my mother draw up some parchment to nail on doors, pending our approval.”

  Drea, Falhill, Yrnhill, and Denhall approved Sarahedeen’s elevation — though it would not take effect for at least a lunar cycle. Drea inhaled heavily. “There’s no point in filling in the congress if Kraek has his followers kill us all.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Yrnhill squeaked.

  “You didn’t hear the way he talked.” Falhill put a hand on Drea’s protruding shoulder. “Kraek is dangerous.”

  “His wife too, perhaps just as much.” Drea looked to the heavens and closed his eyes. He mouthed a prayer and opened his eyes. “I say we arrest Kraek and Fal, throw them in a cell next to the Lionheart.”

  Shock replaced fear, but agreement replaced shock. After half an hour of deliberation, the congressers agreed unanimously to arrest Kraek and his wife Fal. That was sixteen days ago.

  Kraek and Fal, visibly skinnier than when Denhall and Rudfynhill arrested them, stood beside one another — trying to hide their worries beneath callouses. Fal donned her grandmotherly smile. “I’m surprised the people haven’t revolted and killed you. Perchance Kraek and I had inflated opinions of our importance to this community?”

  Young Baljesshall hit the wall behind him. “Another word about killing the congress, and I’ll have to pull out my whip.” The orphan sounded even younger than his fifteen years.

  Fal leaned towards Denhall. “He hasn’t whipped us once. His bark is somewhat worse than his bite.”

  Denhall scowled. “He’s not a dog. He’s a kid. Maybe I told him he needs to go easy on you.”

  Kraek pressed his knuckles against his temples. “I ask again. Why the visit?”

  “It’s not to execute you.” Falhill raised his chin. “We have listened to reason. We will release Fal.”

  “And Theral wasn’t even there to vote on it,” Drea added.

  “What happened to Theral?” asked Laebm from his dark corner.

  “A rock struck her in the head when a small riot broke out.”

  “A rock? A riot?” Laebm stood, uncharacteristic concern painted across his stern face. “Is she alright?”

  “Slumswain took her to Aerhall’s. Our prayers are with her.”

  As Laebm fell back to the floor, freshly depressed, Fal stepped back from the iron bars of her cell. “What if I do not want to be released?”

  Drea started to laugh. “So that your sheep can storm in here, kill the boy, and rescue you? No matter your thoughts on the matter, this congress is not at war with anybody.”

  “Not even Laebm’s son?” Kraek muttered.

  Balgray flailed her arms. “Ganjinhill slew the drunk in defense of his friends. Our friends. We’re lucky the slight didn’t bring down fire and fury from the Segchyhah.”

  Laebm did not react to mention of his son’s death. But Kraek continued, “Why do you want to release my wife?”

  “I told you,” answered Falhill. “We have listened to reason, to the will of the people. And we see no harm in it, only good.”

  Kraek took his wife’s hand and nodded. “I have heard tell that Servant Sarahedeen will take my place on the congress?”

  Sarahedeen, who had followed the congress from the riot, raised her hand for some reason. “I’m not a congresser yet. I was invited to today’s meeting to…I suppose ‘train’ is the right word.”

  “Yrnhill’s suggestion, I’m sure.” Kraek gave Yrnhill a knowing smile.

  Yrnhill contorted his pinched face into an even uglier expression. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m a happily married man. My wife is pregnant.”

  “And aren’t you, my dear, betrothed to wed Dreahall? How does Yrnhill feel about this?”

  Sarahedeen kept a straight face, but Yrnhill scoffed and left the prison building. “I’ll make sure he’s alright,” Denhall murmured. The sheriff-congresser regarded his apprentice Baljesshall with a touch of the shoulder, then exited in pursuit.

  Sarahedeen pursed her lips and kept very calm. “Congresser Kraek, I… Or, is it General Kraek? No, that’s not right. I guess I should call you Prisoner Kraek. So, Prisoner Kraek, I would suggest refraining from sounding out your backside. You don’t know what you’re talking about. And yes, I am very excited to take your job.” She sauntered from the building, no doubt to comfort Yrnhill.

  After some moments, Drea cut the tension with a smiling sigh. “Baljesshall, please release Potter Fal from her cell.”

  Fal hesitated, but her husband gave her a reassuring look. Baljesshall turned his key, and the iron shrieked. The door swung shut behind Fal, who shared one last kiss with the love of her life. She was near to tears as she followed the remaining congressers from the prison building.

  Outside, however, Falhill’s wife had already started to cry.

  “We didn’t do anything! You’re insane!” Falhadn cried.

  “I saw you holding hands.”

  “We’re friends! That’s all!”

  Denhall pressed his weight into Teacher Zannahill. “I’m not an idiot, Falhadn. People have seen you two before. I’ve seen you before, walking hand in hand!”

  Falhill, Drea, Balgray, and Fal had to walk an eighth mile from the prison building to see what occurred. At the torch border, Denhall had tackled Teacher Zannahill to the rocky sand. Falhadn knelt, weeping. Sarahedeen held Yrnhill’s arm, both unsure what to do.

  Denhall eyed Falhill drawing nearer. “Here you are, Falhill. I’ve seen your wife holding this cretin’s hand a dozen times since we landed. In broad daylight!”

  Zannahill managed to spit at Denhall. “I have a wife. You are insane!”

  “A sickly wife, too. You ought to be ashamed.”

  “Get off me, and we can settle this in a fair fight.”

  “No!” yelped Falhadn. “Zannahill, that’s not like you. Don’t let him goad you.”

  Falhill walked up to his wife, knelt himself, and put his arm about her shoulder. She hardly noticed. “What is this about?”

  Loud enough for Denhall to hear, she answered, “Zannahill and I spend a lot of time in the Segchyhah camps together. We’re learning. We’re curious. We’ve been friends for months, since back in Enesma. We’re both teachers. Friends can hold hands!”

  Denhall turned to Falhill, jaw clenched. “Are you going to d
o anything about it?”

  Falhill felt an urge to punch Zannahill, or possibly even Denhall, square in the face. But he wanted to believe his wife. “Let him go, Denhall. We’ll deal with this. It’s no concern of yours.”

  Denhall started to speak but hesitated with gnashed teeth. He pushed Zannahill’s head into the gravel and stormed off.

  Fal, just released from her prison cell, commented, “Glad to see the colony was functioning without a hitch in my absence.”

  Falhill hugged his crying wife, and she finally hugged him back. “It was nothing, I swear.”

  “I believe you.”

  Falhadn looked in his eyes, and her demeanor softened. Her icy blue eyes looked at Falhill with such foreign admiration. But then she left him for Zannahill. “Are you alright?”

  Falhadn escorted Zannahill home. Falhill wished she would have come straight home with him, but it seemed the friendly thing to do. Without his wife, though, Falhill found himself free to talk with Balgray on the way towards their mansions.

  “How fares the storehouse?”

  “Worse than ever. Drea suspects Balyrnhall is stealing food, but I can’t figure out why he would.”

  “But the Segchyhah are helping?”

  “Oh, Hrash, yes!” Balgray answered with relieved glee. “Hrash above sent them here. Honestly, the Drysword knows about the food shortage. I’m surprised he still opposes joining the Segchyhah. It’s the only way the colony survives.”

  They arrived at Balgray’s manse first. “I don’t understand it either,” Falhill said with a sigh. “Seventy some years old, you’d think he’d be a tad wiser about the situation. You know we have a close relationship. He’s like a father to me. But this is difficult for us to move past.”

  “Well, I pray for your reconciliation. And for Drea’s realization. And for the food problem to be solved. And for Jiridhill to return home, as Ganjinhill did.” Falhill recalled that her son Jiridhill trekked off north, as an ambassador — as her wedson had to the west.

  “Jiridhill will come home, and with more allies ready to trade us food for gems and marble and furs and lumber.”