Zaw climbed the watchtower, reasoning that if battle was to break out he would not be able to move very fast on his legs, so he would be of most use in a stationary position, even if it did leave him a little exposed and the climb up sent shivers of pain through his bad leg. A quiver of arrows and a bow were strapped to his back and he was both excited and afraid to be in a situation where he might have to use them.
When he reached the top he peered over cautiously towards the other side of the wall and counted twenty three men, led by Gunthaw with Dow Som near behind him.
They were close to the wall, well within an arrow’s distance, which suggested they did not expect to fight.
“Who am I speaking to?” asked Gunthaw to the wall. Some of the men behind the camp walls breathed a sigh of relief, as the bright tone of his voice did not suggest a man who was about to launch an attack. However, the more perceptive in the camp could hear that behind that friendly tone was a simmering anger he was trying hard to keep in check. No one had ever defied him before and it felt like an attack on his very self that they would dare to stand against them. His name was in danger.
“Speak to all of us” said a voice from the wall
“Is that Danh I can hear? Danh, cousin of mine! Come out from behind this wall and lets talk. Don’t you remember how happy you were when I gave you this job?”
“Yes I was happy then” said Danh “But then you told Dow Som to make us work an extra four days a month.”
“And we didn’t even get anything extra in our purses for it,” added Kon, shouting over the wall.
“Kon! Is that you my old friend? Remember when we fought together on the mountain slopes? We were brothers then!” Gunthaw could not see Kon through the wall, but he held his arms open in a gesture of friendship.
Kon peered at Gunthaw through a gap in the wood. For almost twenty years he had tried to forget that war, but guilt was like a nail that kept the memory pinned to the wall of his soul. He could not tell you why they were fighting, but he remembered with crystal clarity the look in the boy’s eyes as Kon’s sword drove into his chest. How the pupils skittered with fear and then froze, forever, into hopelessness. They had won that battle on those heathered mountain crags eighteen years ago and then they brought sunset to the Mountain town. Gunthaw had led that final mission with a burning torch in his hand, eyes inflamed with a new lust.
Kon had been set on guard duty, which was there way of making him participate and thus share the complicity. He had gone home after the war. Cried. Cried more. His older brother had inherited the family homestead so he went to work as an oozie, which suited him fine, he was glad to be away from everyone. Yet even in the forest, the sound of a log cracking on the fire, the smell of the mountain heather on the eastern wind, or when an elephant’s wail found that uncanny tone that sounded like a women’s cry, the memories would rush back to him and he would collapse in a bundle of panic and shame.
On that day it was the wild glint in Gunthaw’s eye that triggered the memory that haunted Kon like the roots of a tree haunt the soil. He didn’t collapse this time, the Buttersweet rebellion had given him courage. He climbed to the top of the guard tower and looked Gunthaw in the eye. His body shook as he shouted but he did not break eye contact.
“You were never my brother, you were and you are a disgusting, low, man. You speak of brothers and friends, but you treated us as little more than the elephants, just animals that make money for you.” “Well that time is over. This isn’t your camp anymore. It’s all of ours. We’ve worked here for years, it belongs to those who work it.”
Gunthaw’s lips rotated as if he was chewing a particularly tough piece of fat and then his face stuck in a snarl as he spoke.
“This is my land. My camp. My elephants. Not yours.”
From behind the gate, Seng Nu’s head appeared, then she glided upwards until most of her body was visible floating above the wall. The men behind Gunthaw recoiled slightly. They had heard the rumours of a girl who lived in the forest who could bend trees and twist the minds of men and now there in front of them was a girl who seemed to be floating in front of their eyes.
Dow Som’s flabby hand shook as he pointed at her.
“The Enchantress! She flies!” he yelled and then, reaching into a pouch by his side, threw a handful of salt in Seng Nu’s direction.
“Who gave you this land?” She said, ignoring Dow Som and looking directly at Gunthaw who met her eyes with a glare that seemed to drip molten iron.
“It is my great grandfather’s land, and it passed to me as it should be” he growled.
“And how did he come by it? Did he find it in his pocket?” There were a few ripples of laughter from behind the wall.
“He fought for it.” He said, his voice low and simmering as if he knew what Seng Nu would say next.
“Well, if you want it now, you’ll have to fight us for it!” said Seng Nu in triumph and there were sounds of cheering from behind the wall. Seng Nu rose even higher until her whole body was above the wall. She was standing on the tip of an elephant’s trunk which was lifting her up above the gate. She stepped backwards onto the crest of his brow and the elephant raised his head to join with the cheering.
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The men of Buttersweet camp were making a show of waving their arrows and swords defiantly, but in truth they really didn’t want to fight. The younger had grown up playing war games with wooden swords and hearing tales of their fathers and uncles fighting, but as the water reached boiling point, the reality fast approaching, that they would have to use real swords and stick them into real human bodies was not appealing. Many of the men waiting outside the gate under Gunthaw’s command were having similar thoughts. They had been told they would be given jade for some guard duty, not to lay siege to a camp defended by men, elephants, and possibly a jungle witch. Then there were the older men, the ones who had fought in the Mountain war. They still remembered what it was like to hear men crying.
There were only two men with blood in their vision. Dow Som had fought many years ago in the wars against the Mountain clans. Over time his memory had cloven itself in two, discarding the blood and the pain and retaining only an image of himself as a brave and bold young man who wielded a sword as if he had just stepped straight from a folk song. He was not delusional enough to think that at his age he could still fight with his youthful speed and vigour, but he was clutching a dagger in his hands and truly believed that he would best the first person to come over that wall. He had been shamed by the loss of Buttersweet and wanted to prove himself.
Gunthaw was also ready to draw blood if needed. His reputation was at stake. Just a few days ago the name Hkanna Gunthaw meant strength and power, not just in the village, but the whole valley. If Gunthaw didn’t reverse what had happened then he would be known as the man who lost a rebellion. He was older for sure, but if he could fight half as well as his reputation then he would easily win back Buttersweet. Strapped to his back was a longsword that was as long as his arm span and weighed half a blacksmith’s anvil. He drew it and passed the length of the blade past his face, inspecting every inch of the sharpened edge. But then his expression changed again and became conciliatory.. He would try one last time to resolve this.
“I have been harsh in the past,” he said, aiming his voice as close to softness as he could. “I have made mistakes,” he stuck sword into the ground and walked in front of it. “I will raise your pay and two extra days of holiday a year.” His face beamed and his palms were open in a gesture of friendship.
There was silence from behind the wall. The men in the guardtowers did not meet his eyes.
“Okay! You have fought hard for your money. Your pay will be doubled!”
There was still no response. Behind the wall a few men, those who were skilled at numbers, raised their eyebrows. To offer double their pay, the camp must have been more profitable for him then they had previously realised.
“And the girl can stay too!” Said Gunthaw, with a flourish. He had given them everything they wanted and this was a bamberry on top of a sweetcake.
What Gunthaw didn’t understand was that the time for bargaining had gone. What lifted hearts now was not just money, but pride. When land was something that only one man could own, then pride was like a cake to be divided. But when the land was a gift to all, then pride was infinite and did not decay no matter how many joined. They shared the land the way the trees shared sunshine. Gunthaw could have offered them a year of holiday with full pay and they wouldn’t have accepted. They were prepared to fight to defend what they had found.
The men behind the wall roared again in defiance of Gunthaw’s offer. Gunthaw picked up his sword and with a hand motion called the men behind him forward. They did not unsheath their swords or nock their bows, but instead took out woodsman’s axes. Seng Nu, watching from the top of the gate noted with some puzzlement that each axe handle had been freshly painted in different colours.
The men walked up to the wooden wall and began hacking at it with their axes. The Buttersweet men in the watchtowers fired their arrows, but they simply bounced off the large metallic shields that were being held up on either side of the attacking group.
There were sounds of wood splintering and cracking as the gate that Buttersweet had built started to falter. The men behind the gate, who were elephant riders not fighters, began to feel their courage dripping away from them and the grip on their swords and whips loosened as they looked to each other for direction. They looked up to Seng Nu, still on the back of Pinkwetha. She did not say anything but turned and rode him away from the gate, his feet kicking up dust as he galloped to the north.
Seng Nu and Pinkwetha reached the northern gate of Buttersweet and she called out to the sentry in the watchtower.
“Is anyone outside?”
“No, they’re all at the other end”, came the answer from the guard.
The gate opened on its hinges and Seng Nu rode Pinkwetha out. She turned him around and they dashed along the outer walls, galloping around the outside of the camp. The plan was to smash into the side of Gunthaw’s men. Their shields would not stop an elephant.
As they approached the gate, she could see that the men with axes had almost broken through the gate. She tapped Pinkwetha on the head and he lifted his trunk, blasting out a loud thunderous wail that stopped the men in their tracks.
Seng Nu and Pinkwetha charged towards the men at the gate, who scattered. But there was a certain choreograph to the way they split in two, moving neatly into columns on either side of the elephant. “Now” barked Gunthaw in command and then in one quick movement, the men on either flank of the elephant let their axes fly all at once. Every single one targeting Pinkwetha’s eyes.
There was a sickening sound, like spades breaking earth. One moment the elephant was bounding with giddy energy, the next there were cold metal axe heads buried into his face.
Pinkwetha wailed a furious cry and Seng Nu was sent flying to the ground as he bucked and spun in agony. Most of the blades had failed to hit, but only a few were needed to hit their mark.
The men ran back to the safety of the trees to where a smiling Gunthaw was standing. He had known that if he was to stand any chance of winning back the camp, he had to remove the elephant that took orders from the forest girl. And she had taken the bait he set when he sent the men to hack away at the gate.
Seng Nu lay in the grass, her chest feeling like it had exploded. She rolled over in agony and saw the thick tree trunk legs of Pinkwetha stampeding towards her as the elephant raged in blindness. The stomping of his feet was so heavy she bounced as the earth vibrated. She closed her eyes and tried not to think of the pain.
Perhaps it was a deep instinct, but somehow he missed her.
Gunthaw ducked behind a thick oak as the wailing Pinkwetha stampeded past him. He noted the colours of the axe handles still embedded in the poor creature’s eyes.
“River Blue on the right side and Lily green on the left! One extra purse for Tu and Ze!” he said and both Tu and Ze were slapped heartily on the back by their fellow soldiers.
Gunthaw then pointed towards Seng Nu whose eyes were still vague and in shock as she slowly dragged herself to her feet. “Get Her!”.
She stumbled back to the gate and as she did rage ran up her spine and buried into her skull like a crown of thorns. She had only wanted to defend the camp, but now she wanted nothing more than to attack.
She asked the forest to help her. Then the ask became a command as she told the trees to be angry too. She wrapped her will around the spirits of the forest like a tight vine. For many of the men, the last thing they consciously sensed was the splitting crack of the trees around them. Then the trees fell onto them, crushing them under the weight of their years.