The Fall of Vaasar

by Rosalyn Kelly

  Edgar reached the edge of the Xayan camp and paused. It was gigantic, perhaps half the size of Vaasar. And it stank worse than the public latrine in the marketplace. They had set up circular dome tents in rings around one large dome tent, like a pebble dropped in water. Each tent was made from animal hide, and had a pole flying flags of various patterns and sizes. The little homes housed a family. Women tended to animals in pens, children ran around after chickens and men either lazed, brushed their stocky horses or sharpened their swords, some even played with the children. An idyllic scene, in complete contrast to the brutality Tamza had witnessed on the day of the attack. The entrances to the tents all faced the mountains, towards their home, Tamza guessed. She scanned the crowds for a glimpse of Yaseena, but did not see one Vaasarian woman.

  A Xayy woman walked up to greet them. Tamza thought she was stunning. Black skin, almond shaped eyes, slim nose and small mouth. Her ears slightly pointed. More feline in appearance than the men. Her hair was braided in thick rows from forehead down to her nape and then as loose plaits that touched the back of her knees. She eyed the two bears, looked steadily into Edgar’s face, and waved at them to follow. The bears lumbered through the well-worn path between tents and sniffed at the warriors, women and children who ran to stare at them.

  The woman pulled back the flap of the large, central tent and went in. In the Xayan language, Tamza heard her announcing Edgar. The flap was drawn back and she ushered them in. A small fire burned in the centre, the smoke rising in great plumes through a small hole in the tip of the dome.

  Captain Zhaz sat cross-legged on one side, next to him sat twelve warriors. Although none wore the headdresses, and the white paint was gone, all had their weapons strapped to them. Edgar edged in around the fire, Orpey and Burrington followed, then Tamza. The bears waddled in, making it suddenly feel very crowded. Tamza asked them to sit and they both slumped heavily on their rumps, backs arching in a crescent moon shape, hind legs spread out and front paws resting between them. Both grumbled and took in their surroundings.

  “Well, King Edgar,” said Captain Zhaz, in the Fert language. “Two men, two women and two bears come to attend my feast. What an honour.”

  “Burrington is no woman,” Edgar laughed. “I know he has a pathetic beard, but he’s older than me, would you believe.”

  “If that is a man, why have I never seen him fight?” Zhaz replied, looking intently at Burrington.

  Burrington’s cheeks flushed and he rapidly tapped the tips of his middle fingers to thumbs. He glanced away from the two men and Tamza caught his eye. She dipped her head slightly, in sympathy at the slight, but he sneered at her and looked down to his fingers.

  “He has some skill with throwing daggers,” Edgar said.

  “Throwing daggers, eh.” Zhaz raised his eyebrow. “What of the bears?”

  “They will perform later, I know you worship your animals,” Edgar said, amused.

  Captain Zhaz picked up on it and his face tensed. The two men stared at each other until Zhaz grinned. “There you are wrong. We worship fish, water, anything that lives in water. Water is life.”

  Orpey scoffed, “Aye, that’s why you all stink, you don’t wash do you? And you only drink goat’s milk, never water.”

  Zhaz’s tone turned icy. “Water is too precious to waste.”

  Orpey, as if to antagonise the captain further, pulled up his flask, which was tied by string to his belt, unstopped it and took a swig, allowing water to trickle down his beard. He licked his lips, wiped his face with the back of his hand and flicked droplets into the fire.

  Zhaz scowled. “Careful. I invited you here and you are guests, and no guest will befall any harm under Xayan custom. But insult me or my people again and you will regret it.”

  Edgar put a warning hand on Orpey’s forearm and turned back to Zhaz. “What’s for dinner, man, you told me this was a feast.”

  Zhaz jutted his chin to the woman who had collected them and she left the tent, returning moments later with six more women and a gaggle of children, ranging in age from newborns up to teens. They all looked at the bears, fascinated.

  “First, I introduce you to my family. These are my wives and my official children.”

  Edgar and Burrington gave a curt nod at the women. Orpey graced them with a brief look and turned back to the fire.

  Tamza stared, thankful the scarf hid her gaping mouth. Six wives! These are Zhaz’s official children and there are perhaps fifteen here. How many unofficial children does he have?

  Zhaz waved his hand and his family dispersed. Six cooked goats were brought in by the wives. Charred and crispy from roasting on a spit. The smell made Ursah-bear drool. These were placed around the fire, within reach of all who sat there.

  Zhaz pointed to the meat in front of Edgar. “We eat together.”

  “Goat?” Edgar asked, amused, clearly used to this custom.

  Zhaz grunted. At the same time, they reached for the nearest goat, pulled off a hunk of meat with their hands and shoved it in their mouths.

  Edgar chewed happily and with a mouthful said, “Delicious. I declare this the best meat I have ever tasted!”

  The Xayan men cheered and dug into the meat nearest them. Zhaz clapped Edgar on the back. Orpey and Burrington reached forwards and started to rip off hunks of meat. Tamza didn’t move. One of Zhaz’s wives came in and knelt next to her, pulling off strips of meat and jabbing them at Tamza’s face.

  Aware of this wife’s growing frustration, Tamza gingerly pulled down her headscarf to expose her mouth. The wife fed her the meat, delicately. Tamza chewed and smiled at her. She beamed back. Perhaps this was the cook. Fearlessly, the wife took a hunk of meat and held it in front of Rae-bear. His nose crinkled, and his great mouth opened wide, showing his sharp teeth.

  All the men stopped eating and talking to watch.

  “Be gentle,” Tamza said, tongue clicking in the bear’s language.

  Rae allowed the woman to drop the meat into his cavernous maw and he munched greedily. The wife did the same for Ursah and grinned, satisfied. The Xayan woman patted Rae’s leg and he lurched at her, snarling.

  Tamza grabbed the wife’s hand and pushed it off the bear, putting her hand on Rae-bear’s snout. In the clipped Xayan language Tamza said, “Bears no pet.” Her father had long ago told her, you do not gain an animal’s respect from fussing the thing. You are their master, you are not their mother.

  Unfazed, the wife patted Tamza’s knee instead and left the tent.

  Leather pouches filled with goat’s milk were passed around. Orpey complained loudly that he would’ve preferred some wine, the red drink the Ferts had brought with them.

  Edgar and Zhaz talked and laughed, regularly slapping each other’s back. Burrington watched silently, with what Tamza noticed was a hint of jealousy. Orpey ate what remained of the goat in front of him, snapping bones and sucking off the meat and juice.

  “Let us see these bears,” Zhaz announced and stood.

  “It is time, my bears. Will you dance?” Tamza asked Rae and Ursah.

  Both bears clacked their jaws. Tamza stood and edged past, holding the flap open for them. She led them to a clear area of grass a few paces away. The men piled out of the tent and stood in front of the bears. Xayan warriors, their women and children gathered in a circle.

  “Give them space!” shouted Tamza as the Xayans started to encroach. The presence of her bears, after so long apart, had galvanised her confidence. For a bear to respect you, Sumear used to say, you must respect yourself.

  Rae-bear stood on his hind legs and roared, Ursah paced in a loop, pushing out the front row and came to stand next to Rae. The two majestic brown bears were a sight to behold.

  Tamza positioned herself in front of them. She whistled and the bears swayed gently, in time, in unison, from side to side. They wiggled their body, up and down as if scratching their backs against the bark of a tree trunk. Tamza stomped her foot and the bears f
lipped onto their front legs, kicking their back legs up so they stood on their forelegs. The audience gasped, cheered and clapped.

  She clicked her fingers and the bears walked forward two paces on their front paws and then back two paces. Stomped her foot and they dropped their legs to all fours. Clicked her fingers and the bears stood on hindlegs and started bouncing in time, waving their forelegs, clapping their paws and weaving around one another. They were in perfect time.

  Tamza started to dance with them, and they followed her lead. She somersaulted. Both bears copied her movement. She spun on one leg, they did the same. Ursah-bear roared, she was enjoying herself. The crowd edged backwards at the sound.

  At a click of Tamza’s fingers, the bears dropped onto their backs, stuck their legs in the air and rolled from side to side. The audience laughed. They flipped onto all fours and Tamza walked towards them and turned. She put a foot in Ursah’s paw, and a foot in Rae’s paw, and the bears gradually lifted her up in the air as they both stood to full height and pushed their paws above their heads.

  Tamza focused intently on her balance. This was a new move learnt for the Festival of Many Gods performance and they hadn’t practised it. “Keep steady,” Tamza told them. “Rae-bear, do not raise my foot higher than Ursah. That’s it.”

  The bears held her steady, she gazed up to the sky and took a deep breath. I feel free. Looking down on the camp, her elation was short lived. Thousands of faces looked up at her. My audience of Xayan murderers, who should not be here, should not be in my town. Tamza’s concentration ruptured and she lost her balance.

  Rae-bear broke her fall, his forelegs out wide to catch her. He rolled her onto the ground and she stood and bowed, as if this was part of the show.

  “The end, my bears, well done.” Tamza clicked her tongue.

  Both bears, confused by her fall, sat. Catching their breath.

  The audience applauded, whooped, stomped their feet.

  Zhaz stepped past Tamza to stand in front of Rae-bear. “Make him lift me up.”

  Tamza did not reply. Rae eyed Zhaz. The bear’s bottom lip quivered, his nose wrinkled and he emitted a low, warning growl.

  “Tamza, make the bear lift Zhaz,” Edgar said.

  Tamza shook her head. “Neither will do it. They have finished their performance and now need to go back to their enclosure to be fed and given water in thanks. Otherwise things could turn nasty.”

  Edgar considered her a moment. To her surprise, he agreed. “Show is over, Zhaz. The bears only lift the woman.”

  Zhaz turned, his knife drawn and at Tamza’s throat in a heartbeat. Edgar went for his sword, pulling it half way out the scabbard, but Zhaz shook his head. “Make the bear lift me, or lose your bitch.”

  Tamza’s eyes widened as Rae-bear rose behind Zhaz, to full height, bringing his paws around the warrior’s head, so the long, sharp claws enclosed the warrior’s face. Zhaz’s posture changed, his eyes flicked down to the claws. Rae-bear brought his snarling mouth over the warrior captain’s head and roared.

  The force made the Captain’s tunic ruffle. Specks of spittle flew from Rae’s vast maw and smacked Zhaz’s bald head like hail. Zhaz’s entire body tensed.

  Tamza knew Rae would rip this man’s head off. None of the Xayan warriors moved a muscle or went for a weapon. Perhaps it is not done to save a captain from a fight? Zhaz must’ve known he was close to death as he lowered his knife from Tamza’s neck and said, “I yield to a stronger opponent.”

  Rae-bear dropped down to all fours behind Zhaz, ramming the man’s back with his shoulder before turning away and stalking back towards the town, and the enclosure. The crowd parted to let him through. Ursah-bear followed. Tamza tailed them, not waiting for permission. Her heart pounded from Zhaz’s blade so close to her throat and the exhilaration that she had influenced King Edgar.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Edgar clapping Zhaz on the back. “Well, quite a show, Captain. Thanks for the feast, we’ll be on our way.”

  Zhaz slapped Edgar in return and laughed.

  11

  A bang on the door. Tamza pulled the blanket up to her eyes, but Edgar lay naked. He had no care for what another thought of his body.

  “What?” he bellowed.

  Orpey entered. “The Xayans are gone.”

  “What the fuck? We left there a few hours ago!” Edgar got out of bed and started to dress, pulling on his woven leggings, his leathers.

  “They left one at the camp, to give you a message. But he refuses to come into town, to the palace. Says he’s not leaving his horse. It’s a Flame, too big for the alleyways, skittish in enclosed spaces.”

  “Fuck.” Edgar tied up his boots, then looked at Tamza. “Get dressed.”

  She followed behind the King as he marched from the palace towards the brick works. The King walked with Orpey, and behind them an entourage of soldiers.

  “What of the lookouts, did they not see them packing up and think to inform us?” Edgar said.

  “We’ve not located either soldier yet,” Orpey replied. “Not at their posts, both missing.”

  “Zhaz knew we were watching him. Those men are dead.”

  “Aye. Bastards.”

  Edgar stopped on the threshold of the grasslands where the Xayan camp had been. Tamza came to stand by him, and the entourage paused behind. In front of her, the sun was rising on trampled grass, burning mounds of rubbish, old rags, bones from animal carcasses and broken wood. And dotted in between these bonfires were corpses, all naked. Dead Vaasarian women. Somewhere out there was Yaseena. Tamza’s stomach flipped.

  “They took everything they wanted, including our weapons and the Flames, and left everything they didn’t,” Orpey said.

  “Could’ve left the women for our men,” Edgar replied.

  Tamza turned from Edgar, pulled back her headscarf and vomited.

  A Xayan warrior materialised in front of the King, dismounting from a huge horse that appeared when his foot touched the grass. The horse’s eyes glowed a deep red, and its coat blazed and rippled yellow, orange and crimson, as if a fire burned beneath it. Tamza stared at the horse as it snorted and stomped the grass impatiently, tail flicking like a whip.

  “King Edgar, my name is Pallaz. Captain Zhaz received word from Xayy that the tribe war has escalated at home. Our tribe has been raided, many killed. He returns with his warriors at the beckon of his Melokaz. He thanks you for your gifts of weapons and Flame horses.” Pallaz smirked.

  Edgar drew his sword and had it at the warrior’s neck. “Those weapons and those horses were payment for a job. That job is not finished. Captain Zhaz has left before time. He agreed to stay until either the Drome army arrived or my reinforcements from Fertilian. Neither has come.”

  Pallaz didn’t flinch, he glanced down to the blade and back up to Edgar. “He obeys his Melokaz. His Melokaz’s orders come before yours.”

  Edgar pushed his sword into Pallaz’s throat, drawing blood. “What’s to stop me killing you right now? That fucker has broken his word.”

  The warrior grinned. “I am the messenger. If you kill me and I do not return to my warriors, you will face the wrath of Captain Zhaz. Killing the messenger, in my culture, shows the greatest disrespect.”

  Edgar snarled, as he raised his elbow ready to slice his blade through the Xayan’s neck and lop his head off. “I don’t give a shit about the captain’s respect.”

  “Maybe not, but Zhaz will come and take this town from you. You know he would. And you know he could. He admires you for taking control from your father, he recounts that clash as one of the best sword fights he has ever seen. And he sees the beauty in the bronze weapons, in the metal you forge. You taught us your language, far more expressive than our own. Zhaz appreciates your bond. The Melokaz has a great desire to remain friends with Fertilian, so the choice is yours.”

  Edgar dropped his sword, a vein in his forehead throbbed. “And we want to remain friends,” he spat
the word. “The timing is inconvenient, but I will not kill the messenger for that. Fuck off, Pallaz.”

  Pallaz grinned, smeared the trickle of blood across his neck and mounted his great horse. As soon as he sat on its back, he and the horse were invisible. Tamza gasped. Edgar listened carefully, to what noise, Tamza could not tell, but moments passed until he yelled in frustration.

  “Told you not to trust the bastard,” Orpey said.

  Edgar turned back to his men. “Get every soldier not working on the wall on lookout duty, keep eyes on the dunes. If the Drome army attacks now, they will take back the town. Until reinforcements arrive from Fertilian, we have too few soldiers here to hold it. Horace should’ve sent them by now, send a rider to hurry them on.”

  The men acknowledged the command, but didn’t move.

  “Go,” Orpey thundered, and the soldiers started back to town. Orpey barking orders.

  Edgar surveyed the trampled grass where the Xayan camp had been, where they had eaten just last night. Tamza stood by his side as Edgar calmed his breathing.

  She touched his elbow and he turned on her, dagger raised in hand. A wave of realisation came across his features and he sheathed the blade, took a deep inhale and started back to the town.

  As they walked, Tamza asked, “What was that horse?”

  He turned to her, hatred in his eyes, grabbed her cloak under her chin and pulled her face close to his. “You’re not the only people to have magic, you stupid bitch. Keep your fucking mouth shut. I don’t need your whining right now.”

  Tamza lowered her head, submissively. The exhilaration she had felt the previous night evaporating.

  12

  That evening Tamza was left in the bed chamber with a soldier at the door whilst King Edgar met with his council. It was the first time he had left her behind since she had enchanted him. She needed to dance for him, to refresh the spell. His mind is distracted and it is pulling his attention away from me. Away from my influence over his actions, however small that might be.