Once Marak had become of age, he was sent to the Army to help defend the clan. Slaves were not allowed to enter the Army, but Marak was not a slave, his mother was. His mother had become a slave by telling a lie to Lord Ridak, the most serious of offenses in Khadora. Anyone caught telling a lie in Khadora became the property of the person the lie was told to. If a lie was told publicly, anyone who heard the lie could claim the offender as his property. The offender could be taken for a slave or legally killed on the spot. In fact, a slave could be killed by his owner at any time with no legal repercussions. A slave was nothing more than a tool, to be used or discarded at the master’s pleasure.
As a child of a slave, Marak was treated as a slave until he came of age. At that time he was treated like any other laborer of the clan. Marak chose to try out for the Army because the living conditions were better than any other occupation, other than being in the Lord’s household. While the relative comfort of the barracks was a desirable goal in Khadora, Marak often punished himself for living so much better than his mother. As a soldier in Lord Ridak’s Army, Marak was not permitted to converse with slaves unless he was following orders; so, sitting in the orchard and watching his mother from afar was as close as Marak could get. He came and watched whenever he could steal the time from his duties and each time his heart wept with the unfairness of life in Khadora. Approaching footsteps alerted Marak before the other soldier spoke to him.
“I thought I would find you here, Marak,” greeted Tagoro as he eased his tall, lanky frame to the ground beside Marak. “You should not torture yourself so. In a few years when you get promoted to the rank of Cortain, you will be able to speak with her freely.”
Marak tossed his blond braid over his shoulder and turned to look at his friend. “It took me four years to make Squad Leader,” stated Marak. “It should take me another four to make Cortain, if I prove to be exceptional, and I have only been Squad Leader for two.”
“So, that is only two years away,” cheered Tagoro. “Most men never even make Squad Leader. You have proven yourself in battle and the talk around the barracks is that Lord Marshal Grefon is impressed with your squad’s efficiency.”
“The men of my squad perform well because I treat them well,” remarked Marak. “The praise belongs to them, not me. Look at her. Do you think she will last another two years waiting for me to get a promotion? I must find a way to help her.”
Tagoro smoothed his black hair away from his yellow and green headband and turned to look at Glenda. He frowned at the sight of Marak’s mother kneeling in the dirt. She was so covered with soil that it was hard to tell her hair was blond or her skin was fair. She was the same color as the ground from head to toe. Shaking his head he turned back to Marak.
“Marak,” he admonished, “if you disobey the rules, you will end up alongside her. To disobey your orders is the same as a lie. Will it help her any to have her son a slave as well as herself? We have all sworn the Vow of Service to Lord Ridak and he will not overlook any infraction of it.”
“Perhaps so,” Marak smiled as if enjoying a private joke, “but there are other ways of accomplishing one’s goal. If I were ordered to check on the slaves, I would have the chance I seek.”
“Cortain Koors knows you seek the opportunity,” scolded Tagoro. “He would never issue you such an order and he would intercept any such order coming down from higher up. He is not happy to have the son of a slave as one of his Squad Leaders.”
“Koors is a beady-eyed pig,” scowled Marak. “He treats his men like animals and wonders why they don’t respect him. I do not know how he ever made Cortain.”
“He made Cortain because he has served for over twenty years,” reminded Tagoro.
“That is twenty years too long,” declared Marak. “The man is not fit to lead other men. Koors has let it be known that he expects to be made Lectain this year. I would not know whether to laugh or cry if the Lord Marshal actually gave it to him.”
“Lord Marshal Grefon is not a fool,” cautioned Tagoro. “Koors has gone as high as he will ever go.”
Across the barren field, the overseer pushed Glenda into the dirt with his foot and started shouting. Marak grabbed his sword and leaped to his feet. Tagoro twisted around quickly and saw what had prompted Marak’s rise and immediately wrapped his arms around Marak’s legs, bringing him to the ground.
“Do not play the fool,” cautioned Tagoro. “It is well known that you come here to watch her and Koors may have precipitated the overseer’s actions.”
Marak eased slightly as he watched his mother get back up and return to work. The overseer was watching the orchard for a reaction instead of Glenda and Marak realized that Tagoro was probably right. Pushing himself from the ground, Marak rose and calmly positioned his sheath and placed his helmet under his arm.
“Let’s go back to the barracks before I get her killed,” snarled Marak. “Cortain Koors is not the only officer who feels that way about me. In fact, most of them resent a slave’s boy being allowed into the Army. It is okay to kill and die for them, as long as you do both quickly.”
Squad Leader Tagoro rose and followed Marak towards the barracks. The barracks were solidly built, stone buildings. Each one was rectangular in shape and housed two squads of soldiers and their Squad Leaders. Large holes were cut into the sides to allow light and cool breezes in. When not in use these windows were shuttered with wood panels, which were gaily painted with the symbol of the lituk tree and the clan colors. The soldiers slept in wooden bunks that lined the walls four high. Each bunk had a small shelf at the head and a wooden chest at the foot for personal belongings and in the higher bunks there was even a measure of privacy. The center of the barracks was communal and had long tables for meals. At the end opposite the entrance were the Squad Leader’s quarters. Each Squad Leader had a small room and an additional room was set aside as a communal room for eating and meetings. In some of the barracks, the officers’ communal room became the home to a Cortain. Fortunately for Marak, Cortain Koors chose to live in one of the other barracks, so the room became a place where Tagoro and he played Pimic, a game of war strategy which utilized small wooden pieces and a cloth that could be arranged to represent different types of terrain.
Shouting and hollering greeted the two Squad Leaders as they opened the door to the barracks. A cloud of bocco smoke drifted out the door and Marak inhaled the scent deeply. Bocco was fairly expensive in the Situ region, so most of the men only smoked occasionally and only when they were off duty. All heads turned towards the door as they entered and the shouting stopped. As soon as the door closed the clamor resumed and most of the men smiled or waved at the Squad Leaders. Tagoro was the only other Squad Leader who adopted Marak’s fashion of dealing with his men. In other barracks, the men would have quietly resumed talking and avoided the gaze of their Squad Leader, but the men in this barrack were allowed to behave as they wished inside the building. They were also willing to die for their Squad Leader.
Marak treated his men with respect and they returned that respect many times over. He also did not believe in ending a soldier’s training when the man was certified as having gained the necessary level of competence. Marak always chose the man best at a particular skill to continue training the rest of his squad and his men were eager to continue learning. Marak was also open to styles and techniques that were unconventional and scoffed at by the rest of the Army. As a result, Tagoro and Marak usually led their men away from the compound for training, further isolating the two squads from the rest of the troops. The only officer who seemed inclined to appreciate this was Lord Marshal Grefon, the highest officer in the Situ Army. Because of the successes these two squads had obtained, the Lord Marshal had been using them to guard caravans which carried expensive shipments. The caravans usually went to the nearest city, but on occasion they went as far as the capital city and these trips presented more opportunities to learn different styles of fighting and obtain unconventional weapons.
Merch
ants in the large cities often told tales of far away places and strange battles which most experienced fighting men laughed at. Marak, instead, listened intently, trying to pick out the fact from fiction. Some of these merchants even carried samples of the foreign weapons and Marak squandered his pay on obtaining samples of these weapons. Some turned out to be useless or worthless for the type of fighting in Khadora, but others, like the Omunga Star, turned out to be deadly weapons when used by an experienced hand.
Marak and Tagoro marched through the barrack and into their communal room. Each grabbed a chair and Marak quickly peeled off his clan wristbands and removed his boots. He untied his green scarf and opened the tie strings of his shirt. He chuckled as he peered at Tagoro and his friend threw him a questioning glance.
“What’s so funny?” Tagoro asked.
“You,” laughed Marak. “Actually, both of us. After six years in this Army, I still find these uniforms more a costume than a uniform. Light yellow pants and shirts with green boots and scarves. I hope if we ever have to fight in the forest, it will be in Autumn. The wide embroidered belt and headbands are okay, but I would love to toss the wristbands away forever. I can’t stand the way they pull at my shirt when I overextend my thrust. I wonder who designed these uniforms, anyway?”
“The uniforms are the same throughout the country,” remarked Tagoro. “Only the clan colors and clan symbol are different. Why can’t you ever accept things the way they are?”
“Maybe,” speculated Marak, “Khadorans accept too much, just because that is the way things have always been. I don’t like uniforms which hinder my movements and I certainly don’t like wearing one that makes me feel like I glow in the dark.”
“Battles are never fought in the dark,” laughed Tagoro, “and if your enemy is close enough to see the lituk tree on your belt or headband, he should be dead already. You worry about the strangest things. Let’s have a game of Pimic. Maybe today will be the day I whip your yellow pants off you.”
“Not today,” Marak said, shaking his head. “I need to find a way to talk with my mother. I can not continue seeing her treated the way she is. It is not right and I will not stand for it any longer.”
“That line of thinking will only bring you and her more hardships,” worried Tagoro. “How is it that your mother is a slave? You have never talked about it and if you are going to die soon because of your foolish notions, I would like to know.”
“I don’t plan on dying any time soon,” declared Marak. Pulling his headband off, Marak looked quizzically at his friend. “It is not really a secret,” he commented. “I just don’t like dwelling on it. Lord Ridak caught my mother in a lie and forced her into slavery.”
“But why would your mother ever lie?” questioned Tagoro.
“She lied to save my father’s life,” stated Marak. “She lived on one of Lord Ridak’s smaller estates. She did not have the estate Lord’s permission to marry when she bore me, but the Lord did not press the matter. My father was not from the estate and used to visit every week or so. Everyone on the estate knew it, but nobody said anything. Under Lord Ridak’s law, my father could be killed because the marriage was not sanctioned, but my mother’s service was good and the Lord was a kindly man, so nothing was said.”
“Something must have been said or she would not be a slave,” prompted Tagoro.
“When I was six,” Marak sighed, “Lord Ridak paid an unannounced visit to the estate. During his tour he noticed my mother and I and took an interest in her. He inquired where her husband was and she panicked. Lord Ridak had a reputation for invoking cruel justice even where it accomplished nothing, so she told him my father had died. Unfortunately, his interest was more than just passing and he posed the same question to the estate Lord, who told the truth. Lord Ridak immediately claimed her as a slave.”
“Did he kill your father, too?” asked Tagoro.
“No,” answered Marak. “He waited for the next scheduled visit of my father, but my father must have been warned off because he did not show. Instead, Lord Ridak had the estate Lord executed for not enforcing his law and returned here with my mother and me.”
The room lapsed into silence and eventually Marak rose and went to his own room.
Chapter 2
Meeting
Squad Leader Tagoro left the orchard where he thought he might find Squad Leader Marak and headed for the practice site that both squads used. Tagoro was excited with the news he had overheard and couldn’t wait to find his friend. He ran down the path towards the small bridge that crossed the Lituk Creek and hurried to the other side. It was a typical early spring day and the sweet aroma of lituk blossoms filled the air and the cold mountain water flowed swiftly down the creek. Once across the creek, Tagoro turned and sprinted through a small glade of sevemor trees, kicking sevemor cones as he ran. He slowed as he reached the clearing and saw Marak practicing his swordplay.
Marak’s saber lay on the ground alongside his sheath and helmet. In its place, Marak was practicing with a large two-edged sword he purchased from a merchant while guarding a caravan. Marak stepped through the paces of battling with an unseen opponent and Tagoro knew better than to interrupt. Instead, Tagoro quietly sat with his back to a sevemor tree and watched Marak practice. Marak gave a nod of recognition to Tagoro without missing a stroke of his battle as he slashed his sword back and forth, taking advantage of the double edges. Tagoro smiled as he watched. As many times as he had watched Marak practice, his friend always managed to invent new methods of destroying his unseen opponents.
As Tagoro watched, Marak delivered a death stroke to his imaginary foe, but instead of stopping, Marak moved hesitantly and turned in a circle. Tagoro had witnessed this routine before and knew that Marak now faced three unseen swordsmen. The Squad Leader continued to circle as if weighing which opponent would lead off the attack. In a sudden flurry of movement, Marak thrust his sword under his arm and pushed backward to skewer the man behind him. Before the movement actually registered with Tagoro, Marak had already swung his sword forward in a powerful upward slash to slice the imaginary man before him. As the sword sliced upward, Marak sank to one knee and pivoted, bringing the two-edged sword around in a sweeping arc designed to cut the legs out from under his third opponent. Tagoro applauded, but Marak was not finished yet. Marak drew a deep breath and began circling again.
“How many?” called Tagoro.
“Six,” replied Marak as he suddenly burst into action.
Tagoro shook his head but kept his eyes glued on his friend. Marak did not wait for the six men to get their attack coordinated, but charged straight ahead, holding his sword low. When he approached the edge of the clearing, Marak leaped towards his foe with his long, double-edged sword preceding him. The sword stuck in the tree, which Tagoro assumed was the foe, and Marak continued onward in a roll. Marak completed the roll and sprung to his feet while thrusting both hands out before him. Marak was already on his way to retrieve his sword when Tagoro heard the thuds on either side of himself. Tagoro looked in shock as he recognized the two Omunga Stars stuck in the trees on each side of him. Marak ran past the sevemor tree that held his blade, grabbing the hilt as he passed. Dancing to his right, he whipped the sword from behind him in an upward slash and followed through with a lateral slice across the unseen man’s midsection. Quickly, Marak started backpedaling from the remaining two assailants. Turning as if to make a run for it, Marak suddenly pivoted back to his foes and slashed out with a wicked figure eight and a stabbing thrust to remove the last two opponents.
Tagoro applauded wildly as Marak walked over and picked up a towel to dry his face. The warrior retrieved his two Omunga Stars and placed them in the pouch behind his broad belt.
“One thing does bother me with that approach,” chuckled Tagoro. “What if you weren’t able to retrieve your sword out of the man’s body in time? You were heading straight for the enemy without a weapon.”
Marak laughed and thrust his hands outward, flicking his wr
ists. Both hands immediately filled with throwing knives. “Not exactly defenseless,” chuckled Marak, “although I would much rather have my sword against the three opponents who were left. Besides, they all had swords and I’m sure I could get my hands on one of them. There were three of them who no longer needed theirs by then.”
Tagoro whistled and shook his head. “Remind me never to cut in front of you in the food line,” wisecracked Tagoro. “I have good news for you. I overheard Lord Marshal Grefon talking to Cortain Koors this morning. Lord Ridak’s estate Lords are arriving today, all five of them. He’s pulling Rybak’s squad from the fields as one of the squads to greet the visitors. One of our squads is supposed to replace them and the other will join his squad for the greeting.”
“Great!” exclaimed Marak. “This is the chance I have been waiting for. Finally, I‘ll have the right to talk to the slaves. You don’t mind doing the greeting, do you?”
“Mind?” queried Tagoro. “I can’t think of anything I would rather do. It is not often that a lowly Squad Leader gets to meet the six Lords of the Situ Clan and their Marshals. Being noticed is the fastest way to promotions in a Clan.”
“Wonderful,” remarked Marak. “Today we will both get what we desire the most. I better get back and get cleaned up.”
Marak gathered his gear and joined Tagoro on the walk back to the barracks. The estate was busy this morning as laborers and household staff ran around preparing for the guests. Every spring, Lord Ridak summoned his five estate Lords to Lituk Valley to report on matters of importance to the whole clan. Each of the five Lords would be accompanied by his Marshal and a contingent of forces to protect the Lord. Lord Ridak was not one of the most powerful Lords in Khadora, but his estates covered more territory than most as the Lituk Valley area was sparsely populated.
Young Lord of Khadora Page 2