Chapter Five: Visitors

  “Speak, state your name, stranger,” Hima called from the corner. Half his face was draped in shadow, the other half seemed to lose its lines and for a moment Ji’an thought he was looking at a younger Hima, the one that he had only heard stories of in the past. Steel flashed in the firelight as he held up his knife.

  The man only smiled. “Peace, Lord Hima, brother of King Akka, First Lord of the Ocean. My people and myself come in nothing but peace. I am Eshna, leader to these soldiers you see before you. We aren’t here for war.”

  “How can we know?” a young Representative said. He squirmed under all the eyes of the strangers on him. “For sure, I mean.” Jamma’s hand tightened around the arm of his chair. He stood.

  “What Kasima means is your kind lies like rattlebacks in the sun. We can trust you no more than we can a Trader’s first offer. So that leads me to this-- why should we start trusting you?”

  Eshna smiled, a wide, unsettling smile. A opened his arms out beside him, the sword hanging limp beside him. Ji’an looked at it, the sheath curved into a hook, a wicked looking tool. Though there was a part of him that felt that Eshna had very little experience with the sword. No, the way that he carried himself, strutting around, keeping the firelight cast on his face in such a way that caused him to look the most dramatic. This man was a storyteller, not a fighter. Ji’an relaxed his grip on his ka’pa, but he still watched him. He looked at Moa who found his eyes and nodded at him. Ji’an was sure that meant that she had come to the same conclusion that he just had.

  “Fine Wanderers,” a name for those outside of the cult, Ji’an figured, “these people, these fighters, have come against the express wishes of the Voice of Kami.” He paused, waiting, watching his audience. He was in element here, the audience reliant on his every word that he coated with the drama of ten actors, all caught up in the heat of production. “There is another fact that you might want to know about us.” Another pause followed. The wind whistled through the room, whipping the fires around, and jostling the bun that Eshna’s long hair was pulled into.

  “Well, out with it,” Adda’ka said, slowly creeping his hand around to the back of his belt to grasp the knife handle that was hidden by the tail of his vest.

  “Adda’ka,” Ji’an called. Eshna’s head spun, mouth open to speak, toward Ji’an. His eyes read disappointment in being cut off, not anger, however. “Peace, Adda’ka. It is a wonderful thing that we have right now. Do your best not to jeopardize that.” Ji’an nodded expectantly, holding Adda’ka’s eyes with his until he let go of the knife.

  Ji’an gave a curt nod then turned to Eshna. “You may proceed, sir.”

  “Ji’an of Sandstone Hold Settlement, is that right? Captain of the army of the Clear Skies Tribe. I never thought I would find a man who wouldn’t hold a crown until this moment, but here we are. Thank you for your concern for peace.”

  He seemed to get back into character. “Now, for the missing piece of why you should trust me. The Bloodbrothers. They are scared of us. They run at the very sight of us, which they have done so more than once on our long trek here. We need only show ourselves over a ridge and they run crying back to their mothers.”

  “I don’t believe it,” an old man, about the same age as Hima said standing with some help from his captain. Ji’an knew him to be named A’sena. He had been a Representative when Ji’an was born. Ji’an wasn’t completely sure, but he believed him to be one of the first that was ever established in the Ocean once it was united.

  “I have seen many things in my time, but a man who scares one of those… creatures… is one of two things. Either they are a liar, or they are worse than even the Bloodbrothers, which is something that I wish to not think about. Trusting anyone like that, leads only to one place-- death. I cannot stand for anything they will ask.” The old man sat down heavily, trusting the chair where he couldn’t trust his joints.

  “Would it help, sir, if I told you my soldiers did not lay one finger on anyone here? We took nothing from your land, even going so far as to steal many water rocks so that we might make it all in one trip. We didn’t want to disturb your land. We wanted to make sure that you believed it when we told you we meant no harm.”

  “I have no illusions,” Eshna said, turning and looking each person in the eye, “that you all have your notions about me and my people. We have differences, to be sure, but can promise you one thing, at least. We do not want King Akka to die. We may not answer to him but we want him alive as he is the only thing keeping us alive.”

  “How do you mean?” Hima called, from his corner of the room. He seemed intrigued by what he was hearing. “You say he keeps you alive, but he allows raids with impunity into your lands. That must have casualties, right. And what of the border wars that won’t seem to end. The writ that allows that has Akaka’s signature on it. Explain.”

  Eshna pointed to Hima, smiled, then nodded with force. “How right you are Hima, First Lord of the Ocean. It is true all of these things keep us in war and fighting. Some of us starve from lack of supplies. We do in fact lose many people to these border wars. But what does not have Akka’s signature on it? The one thing that he refused to grant.” Eshna looked around the room. “Anyone?” Hima was looking intently, visibly racking his brain, searching for the answer.

  “War,” Eshna stated. The word seemed louder than the others. Heavier, somehow. “This year will mark the eighth year since the edict to start a war has been laid in front of him. This year will mark the eighth year since he set the paper in the fire next to his desk.”

  “How do you know so much about this place, Cultist,” Adda’ka said from his seat.

  “It is incredible what people will tell you when you take them prisoner,” Eshna said, without any emotion. No one had a comeback ready for that one. It was war after all, and they would be hypocrites if they claimed that most of what they knew of Shenar was from prisoners.

  Eshna looked around the room, challenging the Oceaniers to answer the question, knowing full well that they would not be able to do it. “I admit that I am not thrilled with my people’s methods, though that is the nature of all things, people above you in rank and status telling you what to do. We don’t have to like it, we can just do it.”

  “But, nevertheless,” Eshna continued, “we must push past our differences and focus on what is at hand. Your king refused to allow my people to be slaughtered by your armies. The last thing we need is some King who lacks that sort of inhibition. To survive as a group, not as individuals, my people need a king that, at the very least, tolerates us.”

  “Why should we not just kill you. Hima would sign off on war, in a heartbeat, he would. He speaks for the king right now, he can do it. He will. Won’t you Hima?” Hican said, standing and gesturing broadly.

  “He will do no such thing,” Hima said, looking like an angry stone. “And Hican would do well to not put words in Hima’s mouth. Ever. War will help no one right now. Not a soul. It wouldn’t have helped any one eight years ago, either, which Akka knew well.”

  “Thank you, Hima,” Eshna said, with a slight smile. “As for why you shouldn’t just kill us now, I can't. I suppose you must search for the human kindness that Akka showed my people eight years ago when he burned the writ of war. I wish I could give something better to you than that, but, sadly, I cannot.” He simply shrugged.

  “What’s in it for you?” Moa asked, stepping forward. She was speaking out of turn, but Ji’an was sure that she would never hear a word about it. “I know your kind, you never do anything that wouldn’t help you just as much if not more than the person you claim to help. Isn’t that right?”

  “Is your statement right? On the whole, I don’t suppose so, but on the individual, sure, there’s those like that here. Captain Moa, right? I know you. My sister told her children stories of a monster that shared a name with you that fought like a beast with the force of the Ocean behind her. She said that you’d hunt them down while they slept if they didn’t go to bed. You are a legend where I am from.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Moa growled through her teeth. Ji’an said nothing. He understood. Moa was the Captain at the border. She knew the Cultists all too well.

  “If you saw the fear in my nieces and nephews eyes, you might not be so quick to say that,” he said with such sadness that Ji’an was sure that he wasn’t bluffing. Even Moa looked thrown off her balance. “That is besides the point,” Eshna said, shaking himself slightly. “There is something that I want. Consider it payment for our help in crossing the Ocean. We just want more land.” The room exploded with voices, yelling over each other, at each other, at Eshna. Even the Sheiarns lining around the room weren’t immune to the threats.

  A sharp, shrill sound pierced the air, growing louder, rattling Ji’an’s head and blurring his vision. He clamped his hands over his ears. A’sena and Hima appeared unaffected. Ji’an figured that they couldn’t hear the sound.

  The sound stopped.

  “What in the blazes was that Cultist?” Jamma said, rubbing his ears. Ji’an were still ringing.

  “Nothing to worry about, Jamma, just an invention of ours. I am not sure if that has made it to the battlefield or not.”

  “It hasn’t,” Moa said, holding her ear. When she took it away there was a smear of blood. Ji’an felt as if his head was wrapped in a wool blanket soaked in oil, but he could still hear.

  “Well,” Eshna said, looking slightly abashed. “My apologies everyone. Your hearing should return. Now, back to the matter at hand.” He gave them a moment longer to come back to their senses.

  “All we want is to be able to survey a new border that we all agree on that allows us more supplies, and will stop the border wars. Akka might not have allowed you to conquer, but he did allow you to defend, and you have pushed that border back ever so slightly for eight years and our land is lost. Important cities with plenty of water, stolen. Please, People of the Ocean, I beg you. Allow us this one thing, and my people will follow you anywhere. Even into the belly of the best that is a war with the Bloodbrothers.”

  No one moved even to breathe.

  Finally, Hima stood.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Who will stand to seek the Magic to revive Akka so that he may mentor the next King or Queen of the Ocean. In addition, who will allow our visitors from Shenar to join us, in trade for land?”

  Slowly, one by one, everyone stood. Even A’sena, Jamma, and Hican.

  Eshna smiled.

  ----

  “The Cultists? You’re going to look me in the eyes and tell me those, sand and rock blinded, blood thirsty fools, just made a deal with the Ocean’s own government. How could we let this happen?” Hedeke said to Ammon, as they made their way up the spiral staircase to the top of the tower of Kada.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” Ammon answered, not wanting to say more. He didn’t know what to say really, as none of this was in the plan. He knew, however, that he must come up with something to say, and quickly, hopefully before he made it to the top of this tower. But he was nearly there, and he lacked the words.

  “They just wandered in like that? With no opposition? How?” Hedeke asked in an accusing half whisper. When Ammon didn’t answer right away, he continued. “You don’t know, do you? You have no idea about any of this?” He came to full stop on the stairs. When Ammon didn’t, he hurried to catch up. “How did you not learn with that information network of yours?”

  Ammon shook his head, but still didn’t say anything. If there was one person in the whole of the Ocean that wanted to know how his network failed, it was him. Last night, when the Cultists had just shown up, he had checked, double checked, and tripled checked all the correspondence that he had received for the past three months. There wasn’t even a hint of Cultist hide anywhere near the Ocean proper that wasn’t the border anywhere in sight.

  Ammon turned on Hedeke and stopped, only five or six steps from the top. “I don’t know what happened, Hedeke. I don’t know why my network failed, I only know one thing-- there are Cultists running around in Clear Waters and it is said that they are going with them to Asin. You know as much as I do at this moment. Trust me, Hedeke, we will get through this, this changes nothing. Nothing at all.” Ammon was afraid that at that moment he had just lied.

  They entered the room to the sound of immediate yelling. Ammon couldn’t work out any of the words that were being said, it was just one constant din of simple noise. He raised his hand and it simply stopped, just as it had started.

  “I understand you may be mad,” Ammon started, but was immediately cut off by a man whose name he did not know.

  “You understand nothing, Ammon, not right now. You told us your network was infallible, and here we are, taken by surprise by Cultists, by all people,” he said, spittle flying out of his mouth with the intensity of his words.

  “You think you could do this job better?” Ammon asked, do his best to take the emotion out of his voice. It was hard to remove the anger, however. He wasn’t even so sure he was mad at this man, so much as he was at himself.

  “In fact, I think I might just be able to. Cultists. Cultists, Ammon. Here. In Clear Waters, above our walls, walking the streets as if they belong here. We need answers, and we need them now.”

  Ammon cleared his throat, pushing all emotions down inside of him as far as he could. He took one last deep breath before he started. “This is the story as far as I know, as it was told to me by Ji’an this morning, and as was corroborated by Jamma and Ka’nata. They had their meeting in which Akka put in his own bid through Hima to not seek the Magic. As they were debating that point, there was a noise outside-- later they learned it was a guard being knocked out-- and they climbed the walls. They said they traveled away from people and under cover of darkness, never moving in the daylight. They claimed the Bloodbrothers were afraid of them, running when they saw them, throwing down their weapons. No one is sure why, but it did nothing to lessen the ego of the Cultists.”

  Ammon stood there, still on the top most step looking around the room. He waited for an interjection that never came. He made one more sweep around the room with his eyes.

  “They wanted to exchange the protection they provide against the Bloodbrothers, for land at the border. The fools took that, if you can believe it.”

  “I believe it,” a woman said, who was sitting in the back. Ammon didn’t know her either. That was a trend, he noticed, really looking over the room for the first time. He could count the number of people he knew in this room on one hand, and even then, it was less than five. He knew Ka’nata, sitting by the window, arms crossed, looking sour as always. He knew Hedeke, fidgeting right to him, glancing up at the room, but looking down immediately after. Then there was a woman there named Kinan, who was never bothered by much, but even her brow was furrowed at the thought of what had just gone wrong.

  There was… no that was it. Three people in this room was all that he knew. He supposed that under different circumstances this would be cause for celebration, but right now he was angry there were so many new people, as he didn’t know how to speak to them, how to bend them to his will. He took a deep breath.

  “This will be fine. Nothing has changed. In fact, this is a--” Ammon began.

  “I swear to you, Ammon, if you say this is a good thing, I will personally throw you off this tower,” Ka’nata interrupted him. Ammon swallowed hard. Ka’nata was a good head and half taller than Ammon, and was strong enough to throw him out a window, and Ammon believed that he would do it.

  “I… Well… Yes, that’s what I was going to say, but no, it’s not the best thing,” he cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but looked around the room once more. “Whether or not this is a good thing, they will be leaving regardless. Our plans at Clear Skies will not change at all.”

  “What good will an ambush do if our army is afraid to fight?” A different woman spoke up this time. I really need a list of these people, Ammon thought to himself. He made a mental note to ask Hedeke for one.

  “Our mercenaries have proven useless, Ammon, and you recall, you and your right-hand man there staked your lives on them,” the man who accosted them when they first came in said, the shadows cast around the room from the eastern sun gave an ominous and dangerous cast to his face. Ammon found himself looking involuntarily down back down the steps. He was sure, at least to a point, that they wouldn’t actually toss him out the window, but he could never be too sure.

  “Can you clarify something for me, Ammon?” Ka’nata said, stepping away from his corner. Ammon stepped, finally, into the room proper, and onto a bit of a raised platform that was to the right of the staircase. Ka’nata stood just below the platform, looking around the room. Ammon nodded at him to continue.

  “Yes, that little bit about Hima saying that Akka had no intention of seeking the Magic. What are we to make of this?” Ka’nata simply made Ammon’s skin crawl. There was something in the way that the light caught his eyes that caused him to look more like a beast than a man. The way he tilted his head this way and that, caused him to look like a rattleback ready to strike.

  “Make of it how?” Ammon said. He saw that all eyes weren’t on him, but rather on Ka’nata, and most of the people were nodding.

  “Yeah,” someone called, though Ammon couldn’t see where it came from.

  “What if they don’t leave?” asked another voice from the other side of the room.

  “Your people are questioning you, Ammon,” Ka’nata said out of the corner of his mouth just loud enough for Ammon to hear. “What will you say to ease their fears?” He wasn’t like this with Jamma. He was calm and clumsy, tripping over his own shadow. He was meek and cast down, one might even go so far as to say stepped on if they didn’t know any better. Not here, though. Here he was cunning. Sure-footed and even tongued.

  Ammon squatted to his level as the people yelling grew too loud to whisper over. “I would appreciate it, Ka’nata, if you would refrain from riling these people up.”

  “I did nothing but point out the obvious, Ammon. What the group does with the information, if not up to me.”

  Ammon raised his hand and, though it took some time, the room fell silent. “They will leave, I'm sure of it. They want Akka around to help train the next king or queen whoever that may be, and whenever the vote may be cast. Even Hima agreed that this was the best course of action.” They weren’t satisfied with his answer, and Ammon knew it.

  There would need to be action. Drastic action.

  “However, there might be a way to force their hand. Make them sweat and leave sooner rather than later. But whoever goes about this mission will die. There will be no way back from this whatsoever. If you choose to try and force their hands, remember your oaths, if not, we will continue as planned.” Ammon had been thinking about this plan for a while now, but it was a last-ditch effort, not one that he expected anyone to take. It was really only to make them step in line, at least that was Ammon’s idea when he thought of it.

  “I’ll do it,” it was a man’s voice, off to the left of Ammon, right in front of the stairs. He was a bald man, not particularly tall, and he was very thin. He wasn’t wearing the vest of the Humble Ones, but rather a yellow vest with hardly any pattern. He didn’t seem to belong anywhere, really, at least not denoted by his dress.

  “You haven’t heard my plan yet,” Ammon said, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

  “Don’t need to. I know what needs to be done and we need whatever advantage we can muster, as it seems the ones we had are slowly drifting away.”

  Ammon stared at him, searching his eyes for something. Anything. The dead man’s eyes seemed to float up behind him, Kasara was his name, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to kill anyone else.

  But this man-- no this kid-- he was willing to die for this. Ammon broke eye contact. “I need you to attempt to kill the king. Assassinate him poorly,” Ammon said more to the ground than he did to this man. “Get caught, get killed. It will, or should might be more accurate, stir the Representatives up just enough to leave maybe even by tomorrow.”

  “‘Until our blood waters the rocks’” the kid said standing up and leaving the room.

  A tear rolled down Ammon’s face as he realized that he didn’t even ask for his name.