“On your feet boy,” Dreamer said harshly. The snap of command was there in his voice now. I began to think this wasn’t just some old shaman. He was a leader in addition to whatever other functions he carried out in his culture.
I struggled upright and untangled the remains of the ropes from my wrists. The rough material had dug into my skin, rubbing it raw and drawing blood where stiff threads had stabbed into me. I couldn’t stand up straight, my shoulders didn’t want to take the weight of my arms so I stood hunched over, clutching my limbs in front of my chest. Even slouching I was still looking down at the man. He had a bald spot at the dome of his skull.
“You need a wash, boy.”
“I’m not a boy,” I croaked but I followed as he walked out into the grasslands.
“I’ve seen seventy winters, boy. You haven’t been on Koryolis. Therefore you are a boy.”
“I’m not one of your people. We don’t need to raid to be seen as men.”
“Raiding isn’t what makes you a man, boy, nor the killing. It’s the trial that makes the change.” He turned back for a moment to look me over and I glared at him with my good eye. “Maybe you’ve passed your own. Aresk likes his killers and I can see the blood on your hands,” he muttered before moving on. I glanced down but my hands were more muddy than bloody at the moment.
He led me to a stream that ran just a few minutes walk from the camp. As soon as I saw the water I tried to sprint to it but all I managed was a stumbling run that ended in a painful crawl as I reached the edge of the narrow waterway.
My reflection shocked me. The left half of my face was coated in blood that had matted thickly in my hair and beard as well. I brought my hands up and began to brush at the blood and muck sealing my left eye. There was pain as my nails scratched at the accumulation of filth and then I began scooping water onto my face to ease the process.
Frantic splashing resulted in my face looking more like it should and as my left eye finally opened a deep sense of relief washed through me. A foot slammed into my ass and I fell face first into the water. I spluttered and pushed my face above the surface then dove back down to drink my fill. My burning thirst had knocked dysentery down a few places on my list of concerns.
“Here,” said the Dreamer, holding out a small leather pouch. I reached out cautiously and took it, tipping some of the contents into a palm. I looked up at him quizzically. It was a rough powder of leaves that smelled citrusy and sharp.
“It’s to wash with. You have such things in your land?” he asked sarcastically. I tossed the pouch to the bank and worked what I had in my palm into my hair. It formed a thin lather that I used to scrub the filth from my head before working on my chest. It took longer than it should have due to my aches and pains but I eventually had myself looking reasonably human again and despite the chilly water I felt worlds better.
The Dreamer had watched for a while but then settled down cross legged to fiddle with the grasses in front of him, weaving the blades into little green towers. I stepped out of the water and refused the urge to drink more. I would make myself sick if I did, my body needed time to absorb what I’d already drunk.
“There’s a tunic and loincloth in the bag.” He tipped his head to where he’d thrown his satchel. “Won’t fit you but better than running around showing your danglies to the world, eh?” he cackled.
I pulled the rough garments out of the bag and began to put them on. The tunic was straightforward but tying a loincloth was a new experience. I felt like I was putting on a diaper.
“Not from here at all then,” my rescuer muttered. “Hungry?” he asked with a gleam in his eye as he looked up at me. I nodded. I needed food and rest to regain my strength, then I could settle my debts with Hakubin and bugger off, hopefully to somewhere with a less savage population.
“Come on then.” He rose and began walking back towards the Areskyn settlement. “The plains are a great place to live if you’ve got the knack, you know? It’s hard and there are always threats. Other tribes, Ur-Vile slavers, the vile-cats are dangerous too but mostly it’s a good life.” He continued to mutter at me as I trudged along behind him back to the settlement.
I had thought it would be a town, if not of bricks and mortar at least wooden buildings but I was wrong. I suppose in a way it was a village but it wasn’t like any I’d ever seen before. Perhaps it resembled a Mongol tribal centre from Earth, back in the thirteen hundreds, but history wasn’t my strong suit so the reference could be way off.
Two thirds of the perimeter was composed of huge heavy wagons with solid wooden wheels parked end to end to form a porous barricade. The rest of the circular perimeter had crude stakes hammered into the earth to form a rough palisade. Within the, in theory, secure space this created was a maze of large yurt-like tents and open areas. Smoke rose throughout the camp and by the palisade were rows of tethered ponies within crude fencing. Hundreds of people flowed around, going about whatever the hell primitives like this did with their days.
“Behold the mighty King’s city!” Dreamer giggled. “He thinks he’s done so well. My brother built the alliance that made him a king and Hakubin has almost- well let’s just say it could be better. Have you ever seen a real city? Stone buildings and towering walls?”
“I haven’t.”
“Lies!” Dreamer laughed happily. “This will be fun! If you tell me of your adventures I’ll tell you about mine. Deal?”
“You’ve seen cities?” I asked.
“I was a wanderer in my youth. Mighty Helipokyn, with walls taller than the biggest Ur-Vile and thicker than three men laid on the ground! Sinister Junt, where the Kentanii slavers harbour their ships. Many places boy, I’ve been to many places but I always longed for home," he finished in a wistful tone.
“Why?” I asked.
“Civilization is all well and good but family is family. I could never stay away for long. Have you ever had an ambitious brother?” I shook my head, baffled at the seemingly disconnected ramblings. “Well I did. Hakubar was a good man, on the whole. He actually asked me to leave, the first time. Some of the families were pushing for me to claim the chiefdom. Idiots! As if I wanted to spend my life pandering to them and fretting about the herds! So I went away for a while to give my elder brother a chance to consolidate his power and coincidentally removed any arguments for my assassination!” He cackled once again.
“But why come back if you were being threatened?” I asked.
“Once Hakubar had made the Gretakyn bend the knee he was secure. I didn't know that of course! I was studying philosophy in Helipokyn at the time. But a tribe needs a Dreamer and my predecessor had been old when I departed. His apprentices were shite. Stupid little worms more interested in potions to make women forget the night before than medicine or natural law. A dream told me to come home.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“A dream?” I was surprised. If this man was the local equivalent of a doctor why would he be moved to turn his life upside down by a dream?
“You don’t dream?”
“Of course I do.” I would not elaborate on the contents of most of my dreams. Despite my code I still saw the faces of some of my victims in the night.
“No you don’t. Not properly. I can tell. But we can fix that boy. I’m afraid Areskynit isn’t much of a place. There’s no ale houses or brothels, no markets filled with spices and exotic goods but it has a few amenities. You’ll need to stay the hell away from all of them for now. Hakubin is a vicious bastard and his armsmen will happily split your skull at the slightest provocation.”
“They already tried." I rubbed my left temple. "Perhaps I should wait here?” We had reached the gap in the palisade that led into the town proper.
“If anyone sees you without me or my apprentice you’re dead, boy. The word has been spread about and you stick out like a cock in a henhouse with your height and colour. I’m your bronze token, so make sure nothing happens to me, okay boy?” he smirked at me and blew his moustache out from his lips. “Let’s go.”
He entered the barricade and the guards glared at me as I passed, following along like a duckling. They wore leather vests over their tunics, some kind of armour I assumed, and thick cloth caps on their heads. The stone maces hung at their hips and they leant on six foot staves that they carried in addition to daggers and stone maces. They all sported the clan mullet.
The Dreamer led me to one side almost as soon as we passed the watchmen. We threaded our way through the tents and I kept having to carefully step over guy ropes that my companion avoided without apparent thought. We circled around the perimeter until we reached a yurt set just inside the barricade of wagons. It was perhaps fifteen feet across and made of some sort of thick material. I brushed a hand against it as I stooped to pass through the door flap and it felt like matted plant fibres.
Inside was a dimly lit space, a small fire at the centre let out a curl of smoke that dissipated before it reached the hole at the peak of the tent. On one side was a small bed, a low platform heaped with furs, and on the other was a crude set of shelves. On the shelves were small vials, clay pots, scrolls and honest to god books. A few primitive wooden chests lined a couple of the sides.
“You’re literate?” I asked in surprise.
“Ah! That will be a nice change! The warriors view books as dead weight, firelighters or shit wipes. It will be nice to discuss the written word again. GEDRIK!” he screamed the last word and I heard some mumbled, high pitched swearing from behind the far wall of the tent. A few moments later a dishevelled boy scurried in through the entrance and bowed to the Dreamer.
“Master?” he asked, keeping his head low. His clothing was green like most of the people but it looked ragged and dirty. His skin was streaked with muck as well and the snot he repeatedly wiped from his nose with the back of his left hand had created a line across the dirt on his right cheek which appeared to be the cleanest part of the boy.
“Food. And get the fire going again! Bloody lazy little shit of an apprentice!” The boy scurried out as fast as he’d come in response to the Dreamers yells.
“That’s another giveaway, you know.” He stared at me without blinking. I didn't react, simply meeting his fierce gaze flatly. “You don’t have the habits of a peasant, boy,” he explained. “I carry a bronze blade, not stone. You see the colour of my tunic and stare me in the eyes like you’re my equal. We aren’t like the serfs in Helipokyn but the lower classes here still show deference to their superiors.”
“What’s your name? I asked. He smirked at me and waved a hand around his tent.
“You only prove my point once more! No ‘Master’, no ‘ridder’ not even a sirrah! No honorifics at all and you can see my wealth all around you! I own three prime bulls and a dozen heifers out with the herds as well! I’m of what passes for the nobility in this part of the world and you are oblivious. My name, boy, is Hakukril. You can call me Kril. And what is your name, if I might be so bold?”
I paused for a moment. The ramifications of using my real name could be significant if any of my competitors ever heard it, especially as it was so out of convention when compared to the locals. But the old bastard had known I was lying about having seen cities without even being able to see my face. I had magic now, perhaps some of the locals did and this wrinkly specimen was one of them?
“Raymond,” I said softly, erring on the side of caution.
“A pleasure Raymond. Where the hell did that boy go?” Kril made his way to the tent flap and stuck his head out. “GEDRIK! GET YOUR ARSE MOVING BOY!” He came back in and went to sit on his pile of furs. “Take a seat, Raymond.” Kril waved a hand at a spot by the barely lit fire and I sat down, stretching my legs out to the side. I still ached all over but it was starting to pass. I’d need to drink more soon.
“What are you planning to do with me?” I asked.
“Gedrik is a lazy shit. He needs some competition and me keeping you around will piss the King off.” Another cackle, it seemed to be the man's equivalent of pausing for breath. “But I have some questions of my own. Ah thank Aresk, what took you so long boy?” Gedrik had ducked through the flap and had a bowl of something that smelled divine in each hand.
“I had to get permission. Sorry Master,” said the boy, keeping his head down again and refusing to meet Kril’s eyes as he put the bowls down in front of him.
“Get out for now. I want you back here at sundown. You will learn the difference between crushed fennel seeds and powdered dandelion root or I will beat you like your absent father ought to have done! Understand?” The boy nodded jerkily and ran back outside, letting the flap fall behind him.
“Kids these days. Eat.” Kril gestured at the bowl closest to me as he bent down and picked up his own. I moved over and took mine, sniffing cautiously at the contents. The rich aroma made my stomach rumble. It was almost a soup rather than a stew, despite the lumps of meat and vegetables floating in it, and I found a thick slab of unrisen bread soaking up the liquid. I ate ravenously and felt better for a moment before my stomach cramped painfully.
Kril had barely eaten half his bowl and he laughed as I groaned. He took his time, mopping up the juices with his bread whereas I had tipped them down my throat.
“Three days since you ate. You should have been more careful.” He rose and picked up a clay jug, pouring water into a pair of crude cups and passed one to me. Despite my latent suspicion of my new “master” I drank gratefully, but made sure to sip the liquid slowly.
“Damn the boy. He forgot about the fire.” Kril rose and walked over to his shelving, taking down a leather pouch. He picked up a leaf wrapped package that I recognised as one of my own.
“Do you have the rest of my things?” I asked hopefully.
“I do, but not here. Tell me Raymond, why were you carrying these?” He tipped the bear teeth I had kept from my first kill in this world into his palm and stirred them with a finger.
“I don’t know why I kept them. I just didn’t want to throw them away. Perhaps they could have been useful in the future,” I muttered.
“Vile-bears are no joke, boy. You killed this one, you didn’t find it dead and rotting?” He fixed me with a piercing gaze and I nodded. “Alone? Impressive.” He put the teeth back on his shelf and picked up some firewood that was waiting to one side of the rickety looking furniture. He laid out the fire and blew on the remaining embers to get a blaze going.
As the wood began to crackle and the flames reached up he sat down on the ground opposite me and fiddled with the pouch he'd taken from his shelf.
“You have never dreamed. Not truly. True-dreaming is a secret known only to a few but I have a sense about you. No harm can come of it either way and my curiosity is itching like fleas.” His voice had dropped to a mumble then almost a whisper as he talked and I leaned forward to catch his words, my face perilously close to the fire. He poured something from the pouch into his hand and I leaned even closer to try and see what it was.
With a flick of his wrist the powder shot into the flames and as I recoiled I snatched a lungful of acrid smoke. I sat back, stunned and more than a little frightened.
“Sleep well, boy. It will open your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake.” I slipped backwards, my still aching shoulders unable to catch my weight as my arms splayed to the sides and my back hit the soft ground behind me.