Chapter 2

The Rain ceased, the clouds began to part, and the moon god Fanarah showed his shiny face and set himself amongst the stars.

Caine walked with high shoulders. Proud. Much like he did on the hills. Although now he carried half of the weight he used to and even less of the command.

We strolled along a wet, stony pathway with our hoods up. My brother set a pace that seemed too leisurely for my liking, but he was chief now, and so it was his decision.

“What do you reckon is in the package? It must be something valuable for these folks to send us outside the city to get it.” I said after a while. More to make conversation than to get an actual answer.

“Most likely,” my brother said, shrugging idly.

I should have expected such a reply. Caine had a way of being absent-minded. I knew him long enough to know that there was no malice to it. It was just how he was. Getting him to talk was sometimes a challenge. I tried again, “Where exactly are we meeting them?”

"Not far,” he said after a moment, “the Merchants’ Bridge, this side of the river.”

I nodded. I knew the location and it was a good one, they’ll be easy to find provided Caine remembers what they look like. “How many of them are there going to be?" I asked.

He shrugged again, “There were three of them the last we met, but that’s not to say they won’t bring more this time."

“And you trust them?” I spotted a twitch in my brother’s hand. He slowed his walk to a stop and pulled his hood from his head showing a messy mop of black hair. The black outline of a deer on the left-hand side of his face still looked odd on him. It was perhaps my skill with the needle and ink that made it so. I had never been the craftsman that others were in the tribe, but I was all he had. He was chief. Leader of the tribe. And it was his right to wear his mark. “Do you doubt me, brother?”

I swallowed, “Not you, but these city folk. They have no love for us.”

“True enough,” he said and continued walking, “but be at ease. Everything will be fine, we drop the package off, the men give us coin and then we leave. You’ll see, these are good men, one of them is Bervian after all, and of Deer ilk. If the rest have no love for us, then he certainly will. Who knows he may even be a distant cousin.”

It wasn’t the first time that Caine mentioned the countryman. I didn’t say as much, but it brought me even less comfort.

“I wonder how he ended up here?” I said.

“Probably the same way we did. He had the warrior’s mark on his arm, it could be that he fled the Mirnese.”

“Which would make him a coward,” I said.

Caine frowned, “I don’t care what it makes him, providing they give us what we want. I won’t shame a man for surviving. The old ways are not what they used to be, Jeb.”

And yet you still want to be known as chief, pointless as it is. I thought.

“Have you conversed with him? spoke of home maybe?”

Caine shook his head, “I didn’t get the chance, the local did the talking and he knew the tongue of the Namin well. Although he looked friendly enough. Roc, they called him.”

“I wonder where the local learned that. Most of the city folk I’ve seen are usually too drunk to speak their own tongue well, let alone that of the Namin.”

My brother snorted, “Jeb, this is Wannihiem, the biggest city of them all they say. I’m sure there are plenty of locals who speak plenty of languages. Come. We’re nearly there.”

*

The foreboding arches of the Merchants’ Bridge came into view. Four large piers of sleek block stood dominantly in the Ghid River as supports for the overpass, allowing the people to travel from the southern part of the city to the central parts. Atop you could see the small, speckled lanterns of the city guards out on patrol. I counted more out tonight than usual. They would have to be avoided.

Even from where we stood, which was still some way off from the bridge, I could hear the loud calls from the merchants atop. They were there night and day, bargaining and bartering with one another. All trying to obtain coins. Gold, silver, and bronze coins that this strange place used for everything. Even food. We had coins in our homeland, but they were not used in the same way as they were here. Never would someone go hungry if they didn’t have them. My brother and I had no idea of their worth until we fled.

As we neared, Caine moved in a direction I didn’t expect. Instead of taking the stairs upwards to the bridge road, he took the stairs downwards to the sandy shores of the riverbank. I stopped walking, “where are you going?”

“It’s underneath,” he replied.

“What is?”

“Where we are to meet of course,” he looked at me as if I was stupid, “you wouldn’t expect them to make a trade like this in the open would you? for all the guards to see.”

I took a small step back, “Truth be told that’s exactly what I expected, it’s dark underneath the bridge brother.”

Caine rubbed his chin and smirked, “Oh come now Jeb, don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark all of a sudden?”

“Not the dark itself, just the people in it.”

Caine’s annoyance was plain on his face, “You know, as chief I could order you to come along. It is my right after all.”

I clenched my teeth and said nothing. It was another thing that was becoming more frequent. Caine trying to use my honour to do his bidding. He was testing me, and it was growing tiresome. An odd silence lingered a moment, then Caine sighed and pinched his nose, “We haven’t got time for this, if you are so craven that you fear to take a step on this beach, hand me over the knapsack and I’ll go alone.”

I paused for a moment longer and considered, but in the end, I was always going with him. Mother and father would have killed me if I let him do something like this on his own.

As we moved underneath the bridge, blackness engulfed us, the cold bit hard, and an unsettling quiet loomed over us like a large blanket. I could barely hear the merchants atop shouting their offers anymore. I only heard the gentle swaying of the river on the shore, and some far-off voices I couldn’t place. I began to shiver, and I couldn’t tell whether it was from the cold or something else, something to be feared. No animal was close, I knew that much. Living on the hills made us listen out for certain noises. Bacran wolves mainly. They were near silent predators that needed a keen ear to avoid.

Humans were different, however; they were the only animals that didn’t make any sound if they were skilled enough.

I found things unnerving, I had a weight in my stomach that wouldn’t shift, and my blood began to tingle. No good ever came to me when I felt like this.

In the darkness, Caine and I made our way up an incline of a beach dune. At first, it was small, but quickly it became steeper until we were on our hands and knees crawling to the top.

Over the other side, and in the close distance, came a light. A campfire. Shaded figures sat on rocks around it. Each one was shrouded with hooded cloaks. Slowly and carefully, we made our way down the other side of the dune. Once at the bottom, Caine put his hand on my chest to stop me.

“That’ll be them,” he said, “wait here, I’ll approach.”

He trudged ahead. His high-shouldered walk sank a little in the firelight, and he dragged his feet through the sand. The three figures rose swiftly as he neared. Startled. As if they weren’t expecting company. I couldn’t say for sure, but I saw what looked like a blade in one of their hands. Caine spoke to them in Naminian. The northern tongue we called it, although, to these folk, it would be southern. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but I knew the sounds well enough. Caine opened the conversation with a friendly greeting. It was diplomatic in its tone, and one he obviously practiced back on the hills. One of the figures spoke back, his voice hoarse and rough. His accented Naminian was thick, and it was apparent to me that he only knew a few choice phrases. After a few words, Caine made his back way to me.

“We’re to follow them,” he said stiffly.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and walked back to the fire. I couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but I took his silence as a sign that maybe things weren't. Still, I followed.

Only one of the shadowy figures around the firelight stood when we approached. He said nothing and turned to walk along the riverbank. We walked just behind. The light from the campfire left us and it became dark again swiftly. So much so that I could barely make out the man in front. I came as close to him as I dared.

The campfire was behind us. We were almost to the other side of the bridge and out into the open again. Then, the figure in front stopped in his tracks. It was so unexpected, that Caine and I nearly ran into the back of him. Without saying anything, he lifted a leg and slammed his foot on the ground. It made a thudding sound. Not of a boot hitting the sand, but of it hitting wood. Three times he did this. Three loud bangs echoed off of the bridge’s underbelly. Then he stepped forward.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Down there,” he said in Naminian.

He didn’t look back to see if we understood. He just trotted forward towards the open air.

We waited for a moment. Long enough for me to feel the sinking feeling again. Down where?

Just as I began to doubt, sand flew up from the ground and into the air. I shielded my eyes. A wooden door had emerged from underneath the sand and flung open.

I was expecting someone to come from to poke there head through and greet us, but I quickly realised it weren’t to be. We were to enter.

Gingerly, Caine and I looked down the newly formed hole. Stairs. Lantern light also. I could now see Caines’s face again. His eyes were as wide as plates and his cheeks were red from breathing heavily. Uncertainty.

Maybe we could run. Maybe we could dart through to the other side of the bridge and back to the ruins. We could hide from these city folk if they tried to look for us. I was about to suggest it to Caine, but something told me that running would be worse. We have something they want. It would be wise to give it to them. I buried the thought.

However, this was Caine’s idea, so I gestured with my hands for him to go first. It felt only right. He did so but hesitantly. His first step down the hole made a loud creaking noise as he shifted his weight onto the stairs. It was as if they hadn’t been stepped on in years. He made his way down and I followed. At the bottom of the creaking steps was a corridor, just wide enough to fit one man in a single file. A lit lantern was on its rocky ceiling and an old wooden door at the far end. The brickwork of the walls was of moss-covered and misshapen stone. It was the opposite of those on the surface which were smooth to the touch and cut with precision. This place was old. You didn’t have to be from Wannihiem to see that. Slowly we walked. Once at the door, Caine put his hand on the rusted handle and turned.

We entered.

It was a square room, simple in design. With a lantern on each wall, a wooden table in the middle, and an old wooden door, much like the one we entered, on the opposite side. I looked at Caine and frowned. “What now?”

A second later, the door opposite swung open. It hit the misshapen wall, creating a loud bang, and then rattled on its hinges. Three men entered the room and spread themselves out swiftly along the table.

“Ottom!” Caine said with fond familiarity as if he’d known him his whole life. There was no fond reply. The man in the middle had a large barrel-like belly that stuck out at least an arm’s length further than his legs. So wide was he that he had to arch his back and lean as if to balance his weight properly. His neck had just about disappeared into his chin and his mouth seemed to sink in behind his cheeks. Surprisingly, his arms and legs looked thin. Or at least, thinner than the rest of him. It was as if someone had thrown his real arms and legs away and replaced them with narrower ones. His hands however were how they should be, thick, with sausage-like fingers. I had never seen such an odd-looking person.

He fixated his dark eyes on me and pointed, “Who is this?” he spoke coldly in well-practiced, but blotchy Naminian.

“Ah yes,” said Caine. “Ottom this is my brother, Jeb. The one I told you about. I explained to the men at the beach that he’d be coming with me. I hope that is all right.”

Ottom looked me up and down and then whispered something to the man on his left. He was a bronze-skinned man. Shirtless, with his arms folded. Showing a lean muscled chest with the markings of the deer all up them. It must be the Bervian that Caine had mentioned.

“I told you to come alone,” Ottom said icily.

Caine shuffled his feet, “Yes, the men atop said as much when I told them. I was unable to do the task by myself, you see. Whilst I went and spoke to your man who gave me this location. Jeb here went to pick up the package. The timing of it all was too close to one another and so I-”

“I told you to come alone!” Ottom repeated.

He looked me up and down again, “You trust him?”

“Of course, Ottom, he is my brother. Forgive me, but I do not see the problem here, Jeb-”

“The problem, kling! Is that I’ve asked you to do something, and you haven’t done it exactly how I told you to,” he snapped his finger. “Place the package down. Quickly now.”

For the briefest of moments, I forgot that I was the one carrying it, then, without thinking, I slung the knapsack off my shoulder and onto the table. I opened it, pulled the package out, and placed it in front of the large man.

Ottom leaned over and snatched it. He began pulling on the string, unravelling it hastily but also with delicacy. When finished, he opened it up and poured out its contents. Jewellery, and lots of it. Necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings. All with studded stones of many colours. My mouth went agape. Was this what I was carrying all this time? Even on the hills, items such as these had value. Much more than coins at least. They made great wedding presents and gifts for foreigners who visited the tribe. I could only imagine how many weeks of food this would have gotten us.

Ottom’s face lit up, and his features softened a little. He turned to the man on his left and said something in the local tongue. The man, who was a head shorter than me, and with a large scar running down one cheek, picked up a silver necklace with red studs and ran his fingers over it. He then held it close to the lantern light and looked at it intensely. After he had inspected every inch of it. He muttered something in the local tongue back. Ottom nodded to us, and a wide smile hit his face. The tension in the room faded.

“Well done,” he said, his voice now light and friendly. I let out a large breath and relaxed a little. Caine slumped his shoulders.

The weight in my stomach eased and the large man chuckled, “I have given you quite a fright. I do apologise. You must understand that what we do desires secrecy. You bringing your brother along put my guard up. However, Ghasken here has just confirmed all I need to know.” He chuckled again, “Everything is okay on your end.”

Caine couldn’t hold the glee from his voice, “That is good news. So, you will give us the coin now?”

Ottom nodded and waved his hands, “Of course, of course. As soon as Ghasken has finished inspecting the jewellery, we’ll finish the business.”

The small man was now picking up other pieces and holding them into the lantern light. Ottom pressed his hands on the table and looked over at me, “You, Jeb, was it?”

I nodded low and respectfully.

“Yet again, a sincere apology. I’m sure if you are a brother of Caine, then you must be of good sorts.”

I smiled and nodded again, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ottom’s gaze lingered.

I looked over at Caine who was beaming at the compliment, then back at the large man. The smile stayed on his face. The two small pits he had for eyes were unblinking.

“You know,” he said, suddenly taking the hands off the table and clasping them behind his back. “I hear many bad words on Bervians. Gutter rats the people of the city call you, klings. But, in my experience, you hill folk are of top quality. Roc here has been by my side for nearly a full cycle now, and he has been as loyal as a dog. Isn’t that right Roc?”

The Bervian opposite us said nothing, he just exhaled and nodded so slightly that one may not necessarily have taken it as a yes.

“Although admittedly he’s not much of a talker,” Ottom turned to Caine. “I noticed that you two have the same marks as him. Doesn’t that mean that you were of the same tribe? Do you know each other?”

Caine shook his head, “We are of one tribe, but our people were many. We move from hill to hill. Tending the land and the life on it. It’s possible that we may have met once or twice but that is still unlikely. Although, we would have the same ancestor, Henarlta. The great hunter of deer.” Caine looked at Roc and put two fingers to his forehead. He brushed them down to his chin. “charlema en wrahela,” he said.

It was the Bervian salute. A sign of respect. Roc remained still. His arms stayed folded across his chest. Caine frowned. Every Bervian knew that greeting and every Bervian knew the insult implied to not receiving it back. If we were on the hills, Caine would have had strong words for him.

Ottom grinned, “Don’t mind him. Like I said he doesn’t talk much. It’s the war that’s made him so quiet. Isn’t that right Roc?” yet again there was nothing from him, just a hard stare from black eyes.

“It must have been difficult for you also,” said Ottom, addressing me this time, “the Mirnese invasion. Tell me, how long did it take you to get to Wannihiem?”

“Many, days and many nights,” I said, “I forget the number, but it was summer when we left and, winter when we arrived. Although that doesn’t seem to matter for much here.”

“A long time. Roc here was one of the first to flee, wasn’t you Roc. He was on the front line and witnessed first-hand the slaughter the Mirnese brought with them. After seeing what he has seen. One cannot blame his silence. There’s not much to talk about.” Ottom let out a breath, “Did you lose anyone? I suppose you must have.”

I nodded.

“Who?”

I shrugged, “many people.”

“Oh, that’s no fun, tell us who it was. Was it your mother, father, sister, uncle, a child maybe?”

Fun? Was that what he just said?

“All of them,” I replied, feeling uneasy, my blood began to tingle again. The weight in my stomach slowly returned. “Except for a child, we’ve never had children.”

“I see, and how did they die?” It was slight but I noted a hint of a laugh on Ottom’s lips like he was trying his best to hold one in. I felt the tension rise again. Is this some sort of game? I looked over at Caine who seemed unfazed. That was typical.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t like to speak of the dead, it’s in bad taste to mention their passing after they are buried.”

“What does a kling know of taste?” Ottom said. “I asked you a question.”

The short man to his right, Ghasken, said something abruptly in the local tongue which took Ottom’s attention away. I felt a pang of relief. They conversed with one another for a while. Their tone was civil but earnest. Then there was a pause and Ottom gave Caine a look of disbelief. Something was wrong. Ghasken Glared at me, and Ottom’s expression turned dark. “Where’s the rest?” he asked.

A breif moment went by, “What?” Caine said in a clueless tone.

“The jewellery, it’s not all here. Where is the rest of it?”

Silence. Ottom’s face turned to a sneer. His eyes were on Caine, unblinking. Ghasken put a hand in his pocket. Roc remained still.

“Well!?” the large man snapped.

Caine looked at me wide-eyed.

I shrugged nervously, “this was the only package the rider gave me. I didn’t even know what was in it until you opened it.”

Ottom sighed, “I should have known better than to trust a pair of klings. Roc, Ghasken!” Without a moment to think, the two men on either side of him drew blades. Roc hopped over the table and put a dagger to Caine’s neck. Ghasken sidestepped around it and put a knife to mine. Our hands went up immediately.

Caine let out a yelp, “What’s this?”

“Thirty pieces!” Ottom said, “Thirty pieces of jewellery, that’s what is meant to be here. We have only twenty-nine. Where is the remaining?”

Ghasken patted me up and down whilst keeping his blade pointed at me.

“We didn’t take anything” I uttered, “I swear it on Telafa.”

Ottom turned his nose up, “Leave your dirty hill gods out of it. I need not your word, just the jewellery I’m owed.”

My hands began to tremble. “The rider must have not packed the package properly. Your quarrel is with him, I swear it.”

“So, I’m to trust two hill klings over Dagler, a man I’ve worked with for three cycles.” He scoffed, “I think not.”

“Please,” I begged. “Please do not kill us.”

“We have a problem here boys. You owe us so you-,”

“But-”

“Silence!” Ottom’s face went sun red, “Interrupt me again, and I’ll have Ghasken cut your tongue out.” He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as if casting out a bad thought.

The weight in my stomach grew heavier than ever before, and the tingling feeling in my blood felt as if would pierce my skin from the inside out. Everything in my body was telling me to run, but if I tried, I’d surely be gutted before I made it out of the room. This was fear I hadn’t felt since fleeing from the hills.

“As I was saying, you either have to cough up the missing piece this instant or pay the seventy-five ferrings its worth.”

Everyone in the room knew that was impossible, we didn’t have the jewellery, Telafa knows where that went, and that sort of coin was out of the question for people such as us. I couldn’t even comprehend its worth.

“Ottom,” Caine stuttered, “Ottom we swear it. What can we do to prove it so?”

“I’ve already told you what needs to be done.” He put his hands on his hips expectantly as if he were to be given what he asked for at any moment.

“We do not have either,” said Caine, his voice was croaky and high, “isn’t that right Jeb?”

I nodded my head vigorously.

The large man exhaled from his nose, “My patience is beginning to wear thin. Roc, Ghasken.” The two men in front of us pressed their knives closer to our necks, I could feel the coldness of the blade as it etched closer into my skin.

“Is there nothing we can do?” I found myself saying. “We do not have it, that I swear, but There must be a way we can resolve this. Please spare us.”

Ottom paused for a moment, “The debt must be paid if not in coin, then in blood…. Unless” “Unless what? There must be another way!” I said, shaking.

“Perhaps you can work it off.”

“Yes, yes. Just tell us how.”

Ottom put a hand to his chin and thought for a moment, “Normally I’d have you begging the streets for it until the debt was paid, but the marks on your face and bodies would mean you would get us less money than ashens. No, that won’t do.” He let out a sigh, “There is but one other way.”

“Please,” I begged. “Please tell us,”

“I want you to kill a man.”