Red World Trilogy

by V. A. Jeffrey

  “Signs and portents I have studied for years and I have lived long enough to see a promise come alive. It will be the last time I see such a thing.” Said Dahlan.

  “I wonder it is that you can still see anything. I cannot!” Said his friend.

  “Mighty, Dahlan has always been! He still leads us now, even from his palanquin!” Said another elder. The others laughed, joking with him good-naturedly.

  “Perhaps, my brothers, but truly, it will be the last time. I feel the death in my bones and my soul these days. I wonder if it will lie with my great-grandson?” He thought of Khalit. The child was not yet six years. His brothers showed no indication of seeking kingship. There was precious little time left and he would likely not see the child grow up.

  “It may.” Said one of the men. “The seed has been spread among us. Your sons have always been mighty, Dahlan. Perhaps the king shall really come from your seed.”

  “I hope to know of it before I go. My youngest nephew's elixirs have kept me alive these many years. Where is Jabi, eh? He must stay close! I could die at any moment!” Cried Dahlan in mock panic.

  “Jabi's quass keeps us all alive longer than we deserve but he will not give up his secrets.” He laughed and the others laughed again but there was a note of sadness in it. Dahlan, foremost elder and head chieftain of the Karig had lived to be one hundred and forty-five years old. Men did not live that long anymore. Most died before reaching one hundred and twenty years and men in the cities did not even live to be that long. With him would go the oldest living memory of stories, histories and great wisdom of the past.

  The tribal elders and tribal mothers, one thousand in all among the Karig, streamed toward the line of large cactus that told that they were getting close to the plains. Shaikhs and tribal mothers from other tribes were streaming from all directions: the Karigites and the Raeanites – the most numerous and powerful, the Petrites and Gilphaens from the north and west, the Makebites of the South Lands, Elapu and Holamites of southern Hybron, Corelians of the east in Zapulia and the Nalianites from the west.

  The tribes were the progenitors of all of the peoples of Chialis that settled all over the world. Many city people had forgotten this fact but a tribesman never did, whether he worshiped the First Pillar or not. Not all tribes followed the old ways. Many chose other gods. Even so, some from each kept the worship of the First Pillar. And most from the Raea and Karig tribes did so.

  Once they had converged there were thousands, as if many caravans were converging on a great caravan city. Dahlan felt his heart leap. The oneness of the tribes was strongest when they gathered in sacred places. He reveled in the feeling. All had seen and heard of the mysterious man, a new desert holy father who came to some in dreams and visions, to awaken the people to prepare for what lay ahead.

  After a few hours they all entered the Plain of the White Bones. Originally, in this place there had been a mighty battle between two male yaryebu, and both had died. It had another significance. A terrible war happened here ages ago between those that wanted empire and those that wanted the wild ways. It left countless dead. It was the scene and birthplace of many empires, kingdoms and massacres. When the carcasses of the god-elephants rotted away until there were only mountains of bleached bones left, resembling the ruins of primeval temples it became a sacred meeting place for the tribes. The bones gleamed bright in the pale moonlight. They began dislodging from their camels and horses and unloading the pack animals and lead them down the gentle slope to set up the camps. Tents were raised and pinioned and the cooking fires were stoked. Evening faded into an ocean of deep violet-black with the stars splayed across like sea-spray. The young fighting men chosen to accompany this great host all stood apart until the elders had all settled onto the low plain and they set up camp all around the ridge. Their torches ringed the ridge, glowing and flickering like firebugs. The red ram's horn call was made on the ring of the plain. Another inside the low plain was made in response. But this time there would not be the traditional Night Prayers.

  The man appeared during the call, in robes seemingly made of pure, white starlight. The light of the fires paled in comparison. His eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire and even those gathered along the ridge could perceive the figure in white clearly.

  “You know the time is coming.” His voice was like that of rushing waters. “Dispersed within you is the seed of the line of the Red Kings, the true kings! Airend-Ur has gathered you together to look for the coming of the new king. Many of you will die before he rises but he will come in your sons' generation. The corruption of the priesthood has been noted and they will be called to account. He will come to cleanse the temple and raise the kingdom of Hybron again for its rightful heirs. Some will rise up against you and persecute you but take heart! God will deliver His promise. He will come like a flaming star-sword and you must follow in the fiery wake! Do not do the way the treacherous Ainash have done in defiling the Holy Writings and the temple and oppressing the people! Keep true and the king will rise among you and lead you to victory! Those that die shall go to paradise!”

  “Hool! Hool! Hool!” They all shouted the exclamation of joy. The plains roared and echoed with the thousands of voices,

  “Airend-Ur shall give a sign, one sign for you this night to tell your children and grandchildren that He is with you people!” Said the man and he pointed to the sky. Suddenly in the sky all around them there appeared spirits, what looked like visions of gods in the mists - it was the army of heaven at God's right hand, dazzling like the stars. There were gasps of shock and shouts of elation.

  “Fear not you people for He is with you!”

  “He is with His people!” The gathered crowd shouted in near frenzy.

  “Blessed be His will and His name, the First Pillar who set all others in their places. He is the First and the Last. He rises up through the sands of time a king in His name. Ellah Kaifah!” He intoned.

  “Ellah Kaifah!” The crowd roared in agreement. “Hool! Hool! Hool!”

  Thus, it began.

  . . .

  In the year 1663 A. T. V. Khalit Ka Dahlan of the Karigites rose up against the Kushigyar of Jhis and gathered many valiant, mighty men to himself to put the Kushigyar to death by the sword and he took power. During a night of festival when the rulers were drunk amidst revelries he rose up against them with Zarammelech and Aquillam who were in the City Guard and with three thousand men he overtook the city. He then tore down the walls of Rhuctium and of Haiga and established himself as ruler over all the attendant city-states of Hybron that used to be under the ancient kingdom, except Zapulia, which was also called Ellah. Egi then rose up in rebellion against him and with a great military force he came by way of the north and destroyed towns and cities in the north of Egi. Then he went to its capital, Egium, and threatened the ruling chieftain with destruction of his land and execution of all his family. Egi then also submitted under him. He then waged war against Temuz the king of Zapulia, also called Ellah, the one making it difficult for the people in Jhis because of his waging war against them and his waging war on the Karigites. He then defeated King Temuz and King Temuz went limping back to Zapulia. After these things occurred, Khalit then became king of Hybron and he was called Khalit-Aisu, meaning “King by God's Hand”, or “First True King”. And he went rebuilding the walls of the cities in the land and expanding his army and exacting tribute to increase the treasury. It was then, when he took power that he turned away completely from serving Airend-Ur.

  - The Third Book of the Kings 14:2, Translations of The Holy Aishanna

  1685 A. T. V.

  “I am in a mood, Bakku!”

  “My king? Would you like music? Theater, perhaps? There is a new play in the. . .”

  “No! I am in a mood for a new wife. You know I hate theater. What is the matter with you?”

  “There are many worthy concubines you already have. One of them could be queen?” Bakku quested, watching the king with a sidelong glance. The king gave
him a withering look. Bakku bowed low and started again.

  “There are high-born chieftains' daughters and noblewomen here and in the surrounding cities. I shall send word out.”

  “Discreetly. I do not want the queen to get wind of it, yet. The woman is barren as the high desert. All my concubines have given me children. Healthy sons! But none from the queen. There is some evil design here, I think.”

  “Of that I have no doubt, Your Greatness. Yet, there is the one from Egi. Chieftain Tenan Seht's daughter.”

  “The Strabian woman, again?” The king said in exasperation. Bakku cleared his throat quietly.

  “She is high-born, Your Greatness.” Far higher born than you, barbarian! He thought contemptuously. “She is a lady. The Strabians have taken root within the cities hundreds of years ago, as I've said before. Wildness has been bred out of them. She would be an excellent choice for queen, Your Greatness. Refined they are, well bred. Also, there is the matter of her family wealth and strength. King Kufun continues to raid the southern borders and King Temuz keeps spreading the wicked lie that you are a usurper and the son of cannibals. Yet, he controls cities that used to be part of this land. Important trade cities. Trade cities that might be won back, Your Greatness.” Bakku stressed. He watched intently as the king's face darkened in anger. Bakku continued.

  “They both become bolder with each passing year. Soon you will have to go to war again and you need more monies and more forces at your disposal, Your Greatness.”

  “I defeated them.”

  “You did not destroy them, my king.” There was a long silence.

  “Any inheritance from her family goes to her brothers. Strabians are not like those of my tribe. Their women can inherit nothing on their own.”

  “They are the highest caste tribe in the region, in all regions, in fact. They are also the wealthiest and most of all, the house of Seht. In fact, they are not even truly counted or thought of as a tribe any longer but an ethnic people that dominate the city of Egium. Her father is very old. She is still young and unmarried. Some say he may die before the year is out.”

  “Which means her brothers will inherit his wealth.”

  “Oh, but did you not hear the news, my king? His sons are dead. Only the daughter remains.”

  “How? Why did I not hear of this?”

  “No one knows for sure. I only very recently heard this news. But may I remind you that the likelihood of the two rival kings on your borders making an alliance is growing. You have only half of what you began with in the treasury, fighting wars and securing the borders. Lady Taliat is now the proper heir to her father's fortune and household and the many warriors of that land.”

  “And when her father dies with no sons, it will go to his brother.” Insisted the king. Bakku sighed in irritation but was careful to do so quietly. He marveled at how such a fool could seize power and hold on to it for as long as he did. Bakku hated the wild people. They were luti! Filth! They refused to live in the cities, could not read and were as ignorant as the day was long. No refinement. No education. This usurping king being the prime example of desert filth. But King Khalit was charismatic and had the love of the people of Hybron. They saw him as a so-called hero, liberating them from the ruling Kushimen and the Kushigyar. He still remembered seeing the body of the Kushigyar he had served being dragged through the main boulevard behind the king's chariot after the execution. He remembered the riotous, deafening cheers of the people. A threat to the rest of the ruling Kushimen like him of the city if they did not bow to the tyrant king. He shuddered inwardly, knowing he and his fellow Kushimen narrowly missed that same fate. He swept those dark thoughts from his mind. Bakku had a plan and needed to make sure the plan succeeded.

  “Oh, my king,” he began again, folding his hands together. “That is true only if she remains unmarried at his death. If she is married, or betrothed before that happens, the wealth goes to her husband.” He remained silent, letting it sink in. The king gazed at him for a long time.

  “She is very beautiful, is she not?” He finally said. Bakku nodded slyly.

  “And wealthy.”

  “How old is he? Her father? One hundred years, I think.”

  “One hundred twenty-five.”

  “Mighty in age.”

  “Indeed, but no man can live forever.” The king fingered his signet ring.

  “Take a delegation with you Bakku and go to Egium. Let it be known that we seek a wife from the House of Seht, the great chieftain, lord of Egi. Report back to me. If everything is satisfactory you will bring her up from Egi, a very great retinue with much fanfare. Wedding preparations will begin the same week of confirmation of the marriage betrothal. Be sure you are right about this, Bakku.”

  “I am sure of it, my king or I would never have made mention of it. It would be an excellent match.”

  “Call for my secretary. I will have letters written and you must be ready to leave in three days for Egi. As for the queen, I will tell her myself. You may go, Bakku.” The king handed him one of his signet rings with the golden lion figurine.

  “Anyone seeing this ring will know that you bring messages from the king.” With a feeling of deep satisfaction welling up in him, Bakku took the ring and hid it in one of the deep folds of his robe, bowed low and left quickly on the king's business.

  Chapter Two

  Letters had been written and sealed and preparations had been made to make way for the delegation to Egi, a small land west of Hybron, ruled by vassal king, Tenan Seht. Falcons darkened the skies as they were sent to inform all the king's counselors and officials in all the cities and towns throughout the land of his plan to take a new queen.

  The capital, Egium, was a major trading center, second only to Yallas-by-the-Sea, the great port city in Zapulia, in the southeast. In the past these lands were once part of the kingdom of Hybron. Zapulia was once known by an older name, Ellah.

  Egi still remained under its authority and much of the grains, staples of the Hybronian diet, came in great caravans from Egi; teff, wheat, millet, barley and the most precious grain, rice. As it was difficult to grow rice in these arid lands, when one could grow rice, it commanded very high prices. Even higher than salt.

  Egi itself was a land of opposites. There was the great river Mowret. Thriving towns and fishing villages had grown along its banks because of the fertile land surrounding it and there was the soft beauty of tall, swaying date palms up and down the river. Farther north the land rose into steep, sharp mountains and crevices with streams that poured into the Mowret. Its most fortified and wealthiest city was Egium. The capital was built into the side of the rock face of a mountain that sat near small, crystal streams. The entrance was a narrow gorge that served as the passage way into the city with great walls of deep red rock, fearfully high, rising on either side. It was one of the great trading centers for merchants traveling by land and there was rarely a day that one did not see long lines of caravans streaming through the gorge.

  Hurrying on his way from the king's secretary he saw a fellow priest of the temple, Ilim, making his way down from the other end of the hall. The wild peoples called him a sage. He hated Ilim. He was the most contentious, disagreeable and foul-tempered man he had ever encountered and he often consorted with the wild peoples. He even smelled like them! However, Bakku, ever a man of refinement and manners, put on a wide grin and gave him a courteous head nod.

  “Greetings, my brother.” He said. As usual Ilim merely glowered and said nothing, sweeping past him. This pitched Bakku into a scarlet rage but he fought it down. He thinks himself better than his fellows! Better than me, even! This Ilim was beside himself with pride and rudeness. Bakku glared back to see Ilim turn the corner of the long hall and then he tip-toed down the hall to watch where Ilim was headed. As he'd suspected, Ilim was headed straight to the king's chambers. Of all the men in the kingdom, only Ilim was allowed to come and go into the king's presence without appointment or announcement, being a former friend to Khalit
's family and a teacher and sage to the king's tribe. Such effrontery! One day you will pay for your insolence and disrespect, Ilim. He vowed. Ilim was a growing thorn in the side of the temple priests and always he found opportunity to display his raw contempt for the honored men, scribes and teachers at the temple, calling them: “Corrupted and rotten.” Ilim's favorite accusation. Had it not been for the king's affection for him, Ilim would have been barred from the temple. But things were in motion. Bakku could feel it, put his finger on the invisible line of event-movement, like a snake slipping under the sand along a dune. One day, Ilim would pay a high price for his disrespect.

  Bakku continued on his way, passing along one of the many wide balconies of the palace. It was a very hot mid-winter day. Uncharacteristically hot. An omen. The air smelled of spices, smoke, incense and mountains of burning flesh. The arenas were filled with the games all winter long and it infused the mood of the city with a special wildness and uncertainty. The victors left with ladre, honor and love from the people, the losers left honor to their families and were ushered by the sun god's sister-wife, Hari, to the great halls of fire, or so the heathens believed. Corpses, human and animal were burned on the arena altar to Hec or in the case of the criminals who were deemed unworthy to fight in the arenas, they were swiftly executed and thrown in the eternal fires outside the city. Bakku made a warding sign as he thought of that accursed place. Across from the eastern edge of the palace from his vantage point was the great Golden Temple of the Aishanna-La. He made his way to his apartments. He would soon send for a messenger to keep his brothers of the temple abreast of the momentous news. He passed by the queen's apartments, glancing at the intricate latticework of the windows and mused at what her reaction would be to her new position. Witch! He wondered if she was even watching him through those maze decorated windows. He sneered at that thought. She was instrumental in putting the king at odds with the interests of the temple but she had finally fallen in favor. He felt a wicked surge of satisfaction in that. He'd thought this day would never come. Too bad it had not ended in an execution. But who knew? Bakku had no intention of leaving that string untied.