Tamza pleaded, “Dabecki, save Yaseena, she is skilled at basket weaving…”
But a warrior shoved her and knocked the words from her chest. Tamza stumbled, and the warrior dragged her over dead men and towards the group where her father stood.
She went straight to Sumear, arms outstretched, reaching for him from paces away. She sobbed, barely breathing.
Sumear pulled her into a tight embrace, his hand cupped her face and held it against his chest as her arms locked around his waist. He was weeping, shaking uncontrollably, mumbling, “Oh my dear child… Yaseena… Lil Araf…Baby…”
4
The one hundred men and women who were deemed useful by Dabecki were huddled together and driven closer to King Edgar.
He was laughing with the warrior in the large tusk headdress.
“Some fine women you’ve got there, Captain Zhaz. Enjoy.”
The Xayan warrior, Captain Zhaz, took a swig from a flask. Dribbles of what looked like milk rolled down his face, smearing the white paint. He licked his thick lips and replied easily in the same language and not in the stilted tongue his warriors had spoken earlier. “We will.”
“But first, before you take your pleasure, sweep the town clean and ensure no more survivors. Hunt down any who have attempted to run.”
Captain Zhaz grinned. “As always.” He shouted to his Xayans. The warriors who rode horses cheered and thundered into the now deserted town. The women who were not deemed useful, were crowded by warriors on foot, who pulled down their trousers. Screams and cries for help came from the women as they were abused and despoiled by the warriors. Both Sumear and Tamza repeated desperate prayers for Yaseena. She had not been spared. Her fate is worse than death.
Tamza gripped her father as they followed in a procession after King Edgar and his pale skinned men towards a palace dining building, that was untouched by the fire. The Ferts dismounted from horses and entered, heading towards the dining hall. Whilst the room was reorganised into a receiving room for King Edgar, Tamza, her father and the other useful Vaasarians waited in the corridor, guarded by orderly Fert soldiers, so unlike the wild Xayy warriors outside.
Eventually the group was hustled into the hall. There were no chairs here, the Vaasarians ate their meals sat on cushions on the floor, the dishes on low tables. The Fertilian King, the monster who had just caused the death of thousands, sat on one of the tables at the head of the room, elbow on knee and chin on fist. Indifferent. His other hand rested on the handle of his sword. Everything else in the room, including every cushion, had been removed.
Tamza and her father had been in this hall before, their bears giving exclusive performances for Vizier Hannijad on numerous occasions. It was the largest room of any building in Vaasar, and could comfortably fit two hundred people. The thick mudbrick walls had high, arched windows along one side, pillars in a line down the middle of the room kept the wooden roof in place. Colourful murals and patterns had been painted everywhere, including the mudbrick floor. Statues of many Gods lined one wall, but these were hidden by the King’s soldiers and more pale-skinned Fert men who were unarmed and dressed in simple garb. It was a dark room, mostly used at night, and the candles had been lit.
A few of the Vaasarians momentarily forgot the horrors of that afternoon to take in the wonder of the hall, never having been in a room – or building – so big.
The King spoke, Dabecki translated, but Sumear and Tamza understood the monster’s words.
“You’ve been deemed of value to me and worth keeping alive. Obey my orders and you will live. Disobey and…” He made the throat cutting gesture. “You’ll each be assigned a Fert partner and a group of Ferts who will learn from you. Teach them well. Burrington will take it from here.”
King Edgar leaned back and swept his hand to indicate another man. This man was of average height and build. He had red hair like King Edgar, but it was thin and straight, hanging lank against his neck, unlike the other man’s bushy curls. Although Burrington must have been similar in age to King Edgar, he had a patchy, short beard, mostly up his neck and not much on his cheeks. There was a meagre gathering of hairs on either side of his chin and a few wisps on his top lip. He had long, restless fingers that he flexed repeatedly. He carried no killing instruments and Tamza guessed he was an administrator. This man glanced sideways at the King, the smallest hint of a sneer on his lips, and started calling out names and professions.
Unarmed Fertilian men stepped forward and Dabecki matched them with their Vaasarian counterpart. Once matched, a soldier guided them out of the back entrance of the hall. The King looked on with a bored, but watchful, countenance. Soon, the only two people left in the hall were Sumear and Tamza.
“There are no more professions, Dabecki. Who are these two?” Burrington asked, irritated, arms folded with fingers tapping on biceps.
Dabecki grinned and hobbled in front of the King, ignoring Burrington. “Ahh, these two have a skill that cannot be taught, but only inherited. These two, my King, are the bear tamers.”
King Edgar’s eyes widened and he beckoned for Tamza and Sumear to come closer. Tamza felt the point of a sword in her back and she moved, her father at her side. They stopped close to Dabecki and a few paces from the King. Firm hands gripped her shoulders from behind and soldiers aimed their swords at them on each side.
“Your allegiance is now to this man, Dabecki? How could you betray your people, your home?” Sumear muttered in the Vaasarian language, the emotion quivering in his words. Her father spat at Dabecki, the worst Vaasarian insult there was. Tamza, emboldened by her father’s defiance, spat at him too.
That earned her father a weak slap from Dabecki, who had to reach up and twist his body further, but with Tamza he peered up at her with his crinkled face and wide nostrils. He cupped her face tenderly and she tore it away from him, leaning back into the soldier behind her. The traitor laughed and turned back to the King.
“I kept them both alive, my King, as I was in need of your council. This old man, Sumear, is the more experienced, but his daughter here is the more beautiful. Plus, she has another ability.”
“My daughter is younger and will be of more use to you, I will die soon. Keep Tamza alive.” Sumear said in the Fertilian language, appealing to the King.
“Keep Sumear alive, he is the better tamer!” Tamza insisted at the same time, her voice lost in the huge hall.
“Silence,” King Edgar bellowed. Tamza and her father were shaken by the soldiers holding their shoulders. Dabecki smirked.
“How do they know to speak our language? It took you many weeks to learn.” Burrington said.
Dabecki explained, patiently, “They speak in tongues, they can speak any language, of humans or animals. These two specialise in bear-speak.”
“Show me her face,” the King demanded.
Tamza flinched. She had not shown her face in public since her mother died, nine seasons before. She hated the attention. Dabecki’s withered hand reached up on the end of a spindly arm and she jerked her head away but he grabbed her mother’s black scarf and yanked it down, exposing her face and thick, dark brown hair. She sunk her chin to her chest.
A ripple jumped from soldier to soldier. Burrington gasped.
Tamza glanced at her father, who nodded gently at her. She took a deep breath and raised her face to the King, staring straight at him and past Dabecki. She didn’t want to see that traitor’s leering expression.
Dabecki, smug, turned to the King. “As I said, beautiful.” He turned back to Tamza. “And even more beautiful than when I asked for your hand in marriage nine seasons ago, when you rejected me, eh, Tamza.”
Tamza refused to look at him. Instead she kept her blue eyes on the King.
King Edgar stood and came nearer to inspect her. He brought his fingertips out to gently stroke her left cheek. She clenched her teeth but suffered his touch. “What of this scar? I give you permission to speak.”
The weight of the red-haired
man’s stare weighed her down, but Tamza willed every last shred of courage into her voice. “Please, King, keep my father alive, he knows the bears far better than me.”
Edgar grabbed her chin between large fingers, her lips squeezing to expose her teeth. “I asked of your scar. Answer me or I torture him and you can watch.”
In a rush, she replied, “A playful tussle with a bear when I was a child, he accidently caught my face with his claws. The healer, Maryam, knitted my skin back together. That is her ability. She is the best healer in Vaasar.”
“Did we keep this healer alive?”
Dabecki bobbed his head.
“Good, she’ll come in useful.”
The King looked at the scar some more. Five thin lines, where Rae-bear’s claws had connected, striped her cheek from cheekbone to jawbone. Many thought she covered her face because of the scar, but she didn’t. She hated the way people, especially men, stared at her. As soon as she had blossomed into a woman at fifteen they had received knock after knock on their door from boys and men of all ages, asking if they could marry her. Her mother would wrap her headscarf tighter around her face and sweetly turn them all away.
When Tamza’s mother died, heartbroken over the loss of her three sons, Tamza’s brothers, Tamza wore the black cloak and headscarf as a mark of mourning in public, and never took it off. When she was covered, nobody spoke to her and nobody looked at her. She could go about her business in the background, not blushing when spoken to, not feeling like she might collapse in on herself when someone stared. Hidden was how she liked it.
“Let us go and see the bears. Bring the archers,” King Edgar ordered and he dragged his eyes off Tamza’s face to follow Dabecki as he limped out of the hall. Tamza was desperate to pull her headscarf up but her arms were restrained by the soldier behind her.
Surrounded by a group of Fertilian soldiers, Tamza and Sumear followed King Edgar, Burrington and Dabecki through the palace gardens and across the Great Fields, which Tamza silently renamed the Killing Fields. Cats, dogs and birds were now picking at the remains of thousands of dead Vaasarians. The party came to a stop in front of the fence. The enclosure sprawled out behind, Sumear and Tamza’s house to the left, near the gate, and then the woodlands. In front of them was the sand training grounds.
The archers pulled arrows from their quivers and aimed them into the enclosure.
Not one of the bears could be seen. Tamza caught her father’s eye. He shook his head sadly.
“Well?” King Edgar growled. “Let’s see them.”
Sumear tongue-clicked in the bear language, “Show yourselves bears at the edge of the woods but do not come any nearer. We are with hostile individuals. Do not attack, be ready to retreat.”
He repeated this message over and over until slowly movement was seen in amongst the dark shadows under the trees. Rae-bear, the dominant male, was seen first. He stood on hindlegs, curious, sniffing the air. Ursah-bear stood protective over her cub. The two younger males, Lack and Jori, were together, still nudging each other carelessly as if Sumear’s beckons had interfered with an earlier game.
The bears all stopped at the edge of the woods, as instructed, and stared menacingly at the group holding their keepers.
Rae-bear fell to all fours. “Who they?”
Sumear tongue clicked in reply. “Unfriendly. Stay back.”
King Edgar looked impressed and turned to Dabecki. “How many are there?”
“Fourteen,” said Dabecki.
“What can they do?”
“They dance, my King.”
“Can they be trained to fight?”
“I’m certain they could be.”
“You,” Edgar pointed to Tamza. “Get that big one here and make him dance. I’ve already seen what the old man can do.”
Tamza didn’t make a sound. She feared for her bears’ lives.
The King stared at her, angry at her defiance. “Archers, aim for the baby.”
The archers pointed arrows at Fir-bear, Ursah’s cub.
Tamza’s stomach lurched. “Don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt the cub, or any bear. Please.”
“Summon the big bear.”
Holding back tears, Tamza clicked. “Ursah-bear, Fir is threatened. Hide him.”
Ursah-bear roared, baring her teeth and snarling. She stood, pawed the cub behind her and readied herself to charge.
Tamza said, “Don’t come close. Run, when I tell you. Rae-bear, my beloved, please come here.”
Rae-bear roared and ran at them. The King and his men all took a step back but the huge brown bear stopped a few paces from the fence and stood to his full height, showing teeth with neck stretched high. He popped his jaw aggressively.
The archers, still with eyes on the cub, bristled at the threat.
King Edgar, recovering from the bear’s charge and overpowering presence, sputtered, “Archers, on that bear.”
The men gladly pointed arrows at Rae.
Tamza clicked. “Rae, these men want to see you dance.”
“I attack them all. You and Sumear come with me.”
“No, Rae-bear. They will hurt you. Please, dance.”
Rae-bear turned his gaze away from the men and inwards. Tamza whistled the movements to an easy dance, one that they performed at the close of the Rejuvenate Festival and had practiced many times. The bear swayed, lifted paws in delicate movements and twisted his head. It was a hypnotic display, in stark contrast to his earlier aggressive behaviour. The archers’ shoulders untensed, and all gathered were captivated.
The dance came to an end gently. Tamza hoped this would quell the bloodlust and save her and her father.
“Thank you,” she told Rae-bear. Who stood in his aggressive stance once again, staring at the hostile men. “Be ready to run back to the woods when I say.”
Rae-bear snorted.
King Edgar turned to look at Tamza, his head cocked, admiring her.
She kept her gaze to the ground, but took advantage of his momentary distraction to click, “Now! Run!” and Rae-bear turned and at full speed bounded back to the cover of the trees.
The King wheeled to see the retreating bear. “My archers could still kill him. But I’ll keep your bears alive, for now. Dabecki, what is this other ability you speak of?”
“She too can dance like the bear. She learnt from her mother, an exotic dancer and once concubine of Vizier Hannijad’s father.”
Tamza’s entire body sagged. The soldier behind her held her upright. Her father was crying.
“I love you,” he mouthed at her. “I go to meet the Bear-God, to see my wife again, my Hayat, and my sons.”
“I love you,” she replied, tears welling.
They both knew who would survive now. These men made decisions with their penises.
“She will dance tonight at the celebratory feast. He is not necessary.” The King flicked his hand at Sumear.
“No!” Tamza fought against the soldier holding her, trying to wrench her arms free, wriggling and jerking, kicking at his shins, but it was no use.
Dabecki, an evil glint in his squinty eye, pulled a long knife from a sheath around the waist of the soldier who held Sumear. With a struggle, he lifted it and thrust it through Sumear’s gut. “Should’ve let me marry your daughter, old man.”
The Fert soldier behind her father dodged out of the way as Dabecki pushed the sword in further, the point coming out her father’s back.
“Fool,” the soldier muttered as the point barely missed his hip.
Tamza’s screams were drowned out by the boom of Ursah-bear’s roar. She started to charge at the fence. “I kill that stinking one, he smell of old, dying lilies.”
The archers readied themselves for the King’s order.
Tamza, her voice hoarse, ordered, “No, Ursah! They will kill you too, think of Fir. You must look after your cub. Go bears, run and hide. Now!”
“I will never forget that murderer�
��s scent!” Ursah turned, kicking up dust in the training grounds and ran back into the woods, following the departing bears and catching up with Fir who lumbered away.
The soldier pulled his sword out of Sumear and dropped the body in a heap by the fence. King Edgar strode back to the palace.
Tamza lunged for her father’s body, desperate to reach him, to touch him, but the soldier dragged her away. The tears gushed and she didn’t think they would ever stop.
The bears would mourn Sumear’s loss as deeply as her. And they would have to watch as his body rotted, crumpled there by the fence, blood oozing from the wound.
5
Tamza was thrown in with the other useful Vaasarians in a makeshift prison at the palace. One of the larger rooms in a smaller outbuilding had been turned into their cell. There was barely enough room for each person to sit.
She wrapped her headscarf tighter. It was growing dark and the high, open windows shed no light. A cool breeze blew in and she shivered. Her fellow Vaasarians, about one hundred of them, fell into distinct groups. Those who sat alone, silent, shocked, rocking or staring intensely at nothing. Those who gathered near others and mumbled, angrily, and those who wept, arms around each other, distraught.
“Tamza,” a female voice said from deeper inside the room.
Tamza squinted in the half-light and saw the healer Maryam, sat with a group of women who cried or wailed. Maryam was soothing them with quiet words.
“Tamza,” Maryam said again, “here.”
Tamza edged over to the woman who had healed her face all those seasons ago when she was nine. A woman of similar age to her mother, and at the time of the accident, a new healer with little experience. Her mother had trusted Maryam, and they had become firm friends. Maryam was a short, comely woman, with a cloud of greying curls that framed her face. She had kind eyes, a warm, welcoming presence and a soft voice that naturally drew people to her. Tamza sunk to the floor and into the healer’s embrace.
“Dabecki killed Sumear,” Tamza sobbed.
The Fall of Vaasar Page 3
