Rise and Fall (43 page)

The rows of trees are so straight it seems like someone carefully planted each one by hand.

Their guide stopped in front of a large bonfire with flames slowly dying. Wisps of smoke danced through the air. On the other side of the fire sat an old and frail man on a throne erected from driftwood. The throne was pieced together haphazardly and carved into the images of hideous beasts foreign to the Kifzo. The man’s wrinkled eyes narrowed as the guide whispered in his ear.

Men and women stood on either side of the throne. The servants could only be distinguished from the man’s advisers by studying their mannerisms. The old man shifted in his seat of moss and pulled away from the guide.

The old man cleared his throat and leaned forward. “You’re late.”

That was not what I had expected to hear.
“I did not realize I had an appointment, Mawkuk, Leader of the Gray Marsh Clan.” He bowed as a sign of respect. “I am Tobin, Warleader of the Blue Island Clan, son of El Olam, our ruler.”

Mawkuk nodded in acknowledgement. “You had an appointment the day your boats reached our lands.” His tone was accusatory.

“We have good reason for our visit,” he replied.

“Good reason? We may be isolated here among the swamps and the other clans may look down on us, but we have not been deaf to the dealings of your people.” He shook his head and chuckled. “El Olam? Is that what he calls himself now? Full of arrogance, your father. He is proud to have united the Blue Clan through the spilling of his own people’s blood, isn’t he? No matter that I, and others, found more peaceful solutions to rule.” He paused. “But that wasn’t enough for him, was it? He claimed the Orange Desert Clan as his own and enslaved many of those he’d conquered. A clan that was once considered the weakest in all of Hesh, slowly becomes one of the strongest.” He paused again, before continuing in a patronizing tone. “I must say that I find it interesting for a man with such success to approach me not once, but twice now. What could we offer someone so much greater than ourselves?”

“Maybe this isn’t the best of places to discuss such matters,” said Tobin, aware of all the eyes on him. “Perhaps there is a more private setting to continue our conversation?”

“No. Here is where we will discuss whatever it is you would bring before me and my people. But now isn’t the time. I am both tired and hungry. We shall continue this when I am ready.”

“I was looking to conclude matters quickly. El Olam is awaiting our return.”

“Your father can wait. You are on our lands and before my throne. Not his.”

Tobin opened his mouth to respond but Mawkuk raised a hand and spoke to the guide. “See these men to our guest quarters and provide them with food and drink. They’ve had a long journey.”

Tobin’s jaw clenched to bite back his anger.
Father would have exploded at such an insult, but I will do this my way.

He bowed.

* * *

The same guide, who had brought them into the city, led them to a large wooden cage resting on the ground beneath a colossal cypress tree. Tied to the cage was a thick rope that stretched toward the sky. Their guide said nothing as the twelve Kifzo warriors followed him into the cage. The guide gave two short tugs to a smaller rope inside the cage. They ascended, swinging to and fro.

Tobin watched Mawkuk leave his throne. Several women led him to a smaller cage further away. Gazing down from such a height caused him to break out in a cold sweat. He distracted himself by turning his attention to the dwellings they passed during their ascent.

The cage stopped at the top of the cypress. Tobin saw the enormous pulley the rope was set to and the locking wheel system used to lift and lower the wooden cage. A handful of men worked the system with apparent ease, despite the weight from the men the cage held.

The guide led them across a long and narrow walkway where they entered a large single room. Wooden pallets covered in straw lined the room’s walls. A wooden table, filled with various food and drink stood in the room’s center.

They were more than ready for our visit it seems.

Tobin addressed the guide. “When will Mawkuk call for us?”

“When he is ready,” said the guide, closing the door.

From a small window, Tobin watched him cross the walkway and hop back into the cage before it was lowered. Shortly after, the cage returned and half a dozen men joined those already near the wheel system. Though they tried to conceal it, they were each warriors, weapons hidden beneath loose clothing.

“Looks like they don’t trust us very much,” said Walor, looking out an adjacent window.

“Why should they?” asked Tobin with a shrug. “My father is not making a name for himself by being a peaceful man.”

“So then what do we do?” asked Walor, moving away from the window.

“We wait.” Tobin gestured toward the table. “And for now we eat and get some rest. Same shifts as before, day and night.”

A man hissed at the comment, snatching a leg of some roasted bird from the table, collapsing onto a pallet.

“Do you have something to say, Ufer?”

The assassin grunted, biting into the leg with a savage, ripping motion. “I need not say anything. We saw with our own eyes how you would lead us,
Warleader
.”

The disgust in Ufer’s voice made Tobin’s skin crawl. The way he said it reminded him of the way Kaz called him brother.
Kaz would have given them blood, even if it meant our eventual deaths.
He remained calm, speaking in an even voice. “That’s right. You saw exactly what was meant to be seen.”

The dissatisfied looks of his men turned to confused ones. Tobin ignored them all, including Walor’s. He returned back to the window and continued his watch.

* * *

Two days had passed since the Kifzo’s arrival and yet Tobin still waited for Mawkuk to summon him. For all outward appearances they were being treated as guests, staying in reasonable quarters and their basic needs cared for. Different servants changed waste pails and provided food and drink. Tobin had yet to see the same one twice. He tried to ask them questions on the first day, but quit after he realized their ramblings were a waste of time and full of misinformation. Tobin took to ignoring them.

Late that afternoon three new servants entered with their meal. He found himself gaping at one in particular.
She looks like Lucia, only younger.

As the servants set about their duties, he tried to distract himself with the constant activity on the dizzying walkways, watching people scurry about like squirrels bouncing from branch to branch. Yet, his eyes kept drifting back to the center of the room, watching the young woman lay out fresh food on the large table. His last glance told him that he wasn’t the only one to notice her beauty as several other Kifzo stared at her with devilish eyes. He grew angry at the thought, knowing that many of those warriors would be quick to rape the woman had they been here conquering the city rather than seeking an alliance.

And even then, the hunger in their eyes makes me wonder how well they will control themselves.

Only after the door closed and the servants vanished out of his sight, did Tobin push himself off the wall and help himself to the food. He grabbed a half loaf of bread and some water, and then returned to his spot near the window. The rest of the Kifzo settled on their pallets, eating in relative silence. Tension filled the room.

Tobin was not blind to his men’s growing displeasure, though Ufer had been the only one to voice his opinions. The way each warrior moved, the looks they gave him, the faint whispers when they thought he slept was enough to show Tobin that they blamed him for their current situation. He wondered how long their patience with him would last.

Would they dare defy me here and now?

The sound of rain falling from the surrounding tree branches onto the slated roof distracted Tobin from those grim thoughts. His eyes caught the quickened pace of the people below as they ran for cover. Watching others struggle to maintain their composure while being struck from every possible direction brought him a brief moment of satisfaction. He lost count the number of times he had felt as they did.

He stood there for some time, motionless, until dusk came.

Walor relieved his watch some time later and Tobin saw the strain in the scout’s face when doing so. “Do you question my decision then, too?” Tobin whispered out of earshot of the others.

Walor sighed. “Question? Yes.”

Tobin grunted. “What would
you
have me do then?”

“It isn’t for me to say. You are Warleader now, not me. I don’t understand what you’re doing. Your approach is so different than your brother’s. But I do trust that you have your reasons.”

“And the others?”

“The others do not share my confidence.”

“How long do I have?”

Walor shrugged. “No telling.” He paused. “Two against ten. The odds would not be in our favor.”

Tobin met Walor’s eyes and nodded. Nothing more needed to be said.

I’m glad that I brought him with me. I wonder if it was a mistake to have left Nachun behind after all.

Tobin lay down in his pallet and tried to relax in the quiet night. Sleep evaded him.

* * *

Eventually sleep did come, though Tobin could not say when. He knew this only when he awoke with a start late in the night. A sound caused him to jump and his hand moved toward one of his concealed daggers to prepare for the mutiny he was sure to be upon him. Walor stood in the door, speaking softly to a messenger.

Tobin got up and introduced himself to a young boy whose dress consisted of pelts from the giant nutria that inhabited the swamps.

“Tobin, Warleader of the Blue Island Clan, I greet you. Mawkuk, Ruler of the Gray Marsh Clan seeks an audience with you and your men this night,” the boy said in a quivering voice, barely above a whisper.

The messenger had not looked up to meet their eyes and Tobin saw the trembling in the boy’s limbs as he awaited a response. “Take us.”

Riding in the cage at night was a far different experience than during the day. Rather than searching the trees and taking in the city’s details, they focused on the ground below where torches and fires burned bright. Despite the time of night, half of Cypronya looked to be up, crowding around the fires and awaiting the outcome of the anticipated exchange.

The Kifzo were led to the center fire, where Mawkuk sat upon his contorted throne. Shadows danced off his thin frame, giving him the appearance of a corpse.

When all were settled, Mawkuk gave a slight bow which Tobin returned. “I am ready to speak to you about our terms.”

“Terms?” said Tobin confused. “I was under the impression that terms had been discussed previously.”

Mawkuk waved a hand. “You would be wrong.”

There was a hiss from behind that Tobin knew came from Ufer. He ignored it.
I will not let him provoke me now.
He stood motionless with his arms crossed in front and eyes focused on the Gray Clan’s ruler.

Mawkuk continued. “Our people have always been looked down upon by the other clans of Hesh just as your people once were. So when Bazraki used his Kifzo warriors to unite the Blue Island Clan, we took notice. Other clans dismissed his actions despite the tales of your warriors’ skill in battle. I became intrigued and monitored Bazraki’s subsequent actions with keen interest.

“We watched the construction and fortification of Juanoq that made it a city almost impenetrable from invaders. We watched him absorb several of the smaller nomadic tribes into his own. I see what Bazraki intends for the future.

“Your brother came to us, offering
terms
,” said Mawkuk. “He claimed such an offer was an alliance, but those terms seemed hardly fair. And so we waited to give our answer, eager to see just how powerful the Blue Clan had become.

“Then we heard of your father’s conquest of the Orange Desert Clan. How he acquired the talents of a shaman whose powers are said to be unmatched in all of Hesh. It is also said this shaman has learned secrets from the old ways and created new weapons for your father.”

“I fail to see your point.” said Tobin.

“It sets the stage, if you will, for the reason you’re here now,” Mawkuk said with a knowing grin. “Despite all the advantages the Blue Clan has acquired, your numbers are still lower than the other clans. Folding in warriors of the Orange Clan did not completely solve this problem since their casualties were so great.”

“And?” asked Tobin.

Mawkuk snorted. “Very well. My point is that you are here for our answer to those pitiful terms your father offered us. Your father would have us fight for him and help him conquer Hesh while in return we receive what? A fraction of the spoils? A small portion of land?” He paused and smiled. “Bazraki needs us, but we do not need him. No one bothers us here—our land is next to useless. We could live here as we always have and be content. Your father, on the other hand, needs greater numbers if he is not only to conquer, but also occupy the rest of Hesh.”

“It is as you say,” said Tobin with a shrug.

“Good. Then I think it only fitting for him to meet our terms rather than the other way around.”

“And what are those terms?” asked Tobin, his patience starting to crack. Another hiss of displeasure from behind caught his ear.

“Nothing too grand, I assure you. We simply divide Hesh down the middle. Your father would keep his land, of course, along with what he took from the Orange Desert Clan. We would then help him overthrow the Yellow Plain Clan and in turn, he will help us with the Green Forest Clan and the Red Mountain Clan which I will rule over. Very reasonable, don’t you think?”

“And the White Tundra Clan?” said Tobin, trying to appear indifferent.

Mawkuk waved a hand. “Let them be, I say. Their land is even less desirable than our own.”

“No argument here.”

“Then you will convey my terms to Bazraki?” asked Mawkuk.

“Actually, I have been given leave to speak on my father’s behalf,” said Tobin in a smug tone. “I would think we could work out the details here and now.