The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

  It was Redith’s idea to disguise the council fire as a banquet so as to not intimidate the guests with too many formalities. She had done a seamless job. Because this was highly irregular, Redith had obtained permission from the Roufytrof to limit the attendance to Surry’s and Pyr’s families, excluding all the children save those who would have future roles to play. The rest were the guests from the Suff Land, and the leadership of the Quailor and Sharaka along with their wives and Little Doe who sat in proxy for Mendaka, who had remained in the Suff Lands.

  By the time Sur Sceaf and Pyrsyrus entered, the introductions had been made and the gathering had already taken on a festive air. Pyrsyrus greeted and hugged each of his wives and Herewose and then Sur Sceaf introduced him to the Chartreusean and Cerulean ambassadors and their wives. In turn Pyrsyrus escorted Fenwylf and Ehrenstein to the high table to sit. As always Sur Sceaf was proud of his majestic older brother, standing a head above the tallest in the hall. His broad shoulders, thick wavy brown hair, and his regal good looks set him apart as a king’s son and won him immediate approval from anyone he came into contact with.

  After they were seated, Sur Sceaf nodded at Paloma, who had explained earlier her plan of presiding as if she were just offering a casual greeting.

  Paloma stood up and said, “Greetings guests, friends, and family. We gather tonight to welcome home, Lord Pyrsyrus, the admiral of the Syr Folk navy. I know all of us are eager to hear an accounting of his latest voyage. I would like to ask Pyrsyrus to address us on his victorious plundering of our enemy while the stewards are serving the meal.” She smiled at Pyrsyrus, who took a quick drink of mead before he rose.

  “Brethren and sistern, friends, ambassadors, and fellow countrymen, freemen of all tribes, we have just returned from our pirating raids with great bootle, and many refugees to join in our struggle to build a free world.” He then went on to offer a description of the many pirate raids he had coordinated.

  Mack-Ka leaned forward in his chair, and Blufre and Elmer were glued to Pyrsyrus’ words. Mack-Ka said to his escort, “I would very much like to see these many refugees the pirate speaks of. I would like to hear their stories of these Pitters that illicit such scorn from the Syr Folk.”

  Pyrsyrus declared, “I am sure there will be time for questions later. In the meantime these two members of the Sire Sheaf, Fenwylf and Ehrenstein, will render us the most up-to-date news on the movements of the enemy.” Pyr turned to Ehrenstein, the Jywdic merchant, son of a Herewardi father, a middle aged man with bold steel grey eyes and finely bowed thin lips. “If you will, Brother Ehrenstein, please give us an account of your journey through the Taxus lands.”

  As Pyrsyrus sat down, Ehrenstein stood up. He bowed slightly and then cleared his throat. “For the past year I have been marketing the whale oil in the Taxus with great success. The product is very well received, even by our enemy. For they do not know that I am Jywdic and certainly not that I am Herewardi. They think me to be but a middle man of no import.” He grinned broadly. “Which, I might add, served me fine.” A round of laughter ensued. “While I was in the Omala, I spent a lot of time and money in their pubs buying drinks and listening to their drunken boasts. Their ale tasted like swine piss, but it was worth torturing my tongue with, because I can learn so much in such situations. For example, I learned their legions have been sent west by the emperor to build roads as strong as the ones in the east. Roads which will allow the rapid deployment of their troops and supplies to the western lands. The roads already stretch from the Hormah to the Firginias then down to Flar-Da, across the south lands to Wide Mouth and into the Taxus where one road branches south into the Mexus and the other road branches north into the poisoned lands. Pitter cavalry and dispatches can now speed along these roads, practically unmolested. Every day I was in Omala, wagon loads of cobblestone ran from morning to night in an endless caravan westward. I also heard rumors that they plan on transporting secret weapons of destruction out of the poisoned lands along these roads.”

  Paloma inquired, “How far do these roads stretch from the Omala?”

  “When I was there, they were laying them all the way through the arid zone and moving into the Kalifornias by the time I left. The Skull Worm hacked road in the west ahead of the road crews from the east and is already based in Copperopolis in the Kalifornias. Many of these freed captives have labored on roads from there to Frisco and Citriodora.” He reached into his bag and pulled out several rolls of leather for all to see. “I have here the maps for your reviewing, should you wish.”

  Paloma rose and with a smile said, “Thank you, Ehrenstein.” Throwing her long flaxen hair over her shoulder she took hold of the maps and passed them on for Aryfae’s keeping.

  “And now may we hear from Fenwylf the Kaninchen?”

  When last Sur Sceaf had seen Fenwylf he was still a lackbeard. Since then, he had grown into a strong warrior. He was now of twenty five winters, with long reddish brown hair tied with the traditional two braids over the ears, joined at the base of his head over long hair that ran midway down his back. His green eyes pierced like fiery emeralds as he looked at Sur Sceaf with a nod, and stood.

  “I am much impressed with this city of Godeselle. I have to swallow my pride, so much does it please me to see the fortress, the palace, and the teeming market. Not to mention the building of the great heathen temple which I have not yet been able to review. I will carry the tales of the glory of this place back to Kanarus when I return to the Apache lands. They will be pleased. The telling of such stories will give us hope as wave after wave of Pitter legions pass over us.”

  Fenwylf’s chiseled face turned from one of cheer and awe to one of gloom. “Sadly, I do not bear good report, but bring much troubling news. Like Ehrenstein, we have noted the constant stream of Pitter legions into the Mexus and the Kalifornias. They are truly too numerous for counting. The Kaninchens can only perform strike and run raids against such might in hopes of taking out some of their steam.” He took lady Paloma by the hand and said, “I hate for your refined ears to hear my report, my lady.”

  Paloma answered, “Unfortunately, my ears have already heard more than I thought was in the realm of abomination. I survived the Pitter wave in the days before I came to Namen Jewell. Please proceed on. We must all fortify our ears and hearts to know of the desolation of abomination that is rolling our way out of Hormah.”

  Fenwylf released Paloma’s hand, looked directly to Sur Sceaf and said, “My lord Sur Sceaf, the enemy is being moved upon by the soothsaying of the blind seer Katus. He has prophesied that now is the great day of the death heads, when they shall reign in blood and horror on the earth until the next bamboo bloom, when victory for them will be assured. Katus has convinced the Emperor Hryre Seath to send the Skull Worm to the west to set his will against us. The Skull Worm has charged Balaban, Sanangrar, and the Cha’Kal with the task of breaking the spine of all the peoples in the west and bringing them under the foot of submission.”

  A young steward brought a mug of ale for Fenwylf, who took a drink before saying, “Now comes the worst news of all. We have learned that the traitors, Inteus Walker and his wife, the bitch of brimestone, Yggep, have forged an alliance between the Pitters and Gloomulah, the dark queen of the Growlings.”

  Crooked Jack declared, “Too bad we didn’t crush those bugs at Frink Glen. We knew Yggep came out of the poisoned lands, but it was always my understanding that she had lost favor there. It seems she has managed to not only regain favor, but to have forged an alliance between the two most evil forces on the face of the land.”

  Ary raised his hand. “Fenwylf, we have only vague reports of these Growlings. Have you anymore knowledge of them?”

  “Good question, Master Arundel. Yes, in fact, I have seen them. They are a grey-skinned people, covered in blisters, boils, and blains. Their skin looks like they have been deep fried or fresh risen from a grave. It is said that they are vampyrs of very old age and that they drink the blood of maidens to continue th
eir lives. All of them are under the thumb of the Queen Gloomulah. She lives deep in the bowels of the earth where she is guarded by all her minions and where none dare to molest her. Neither would anyone know how to find her, except her minions in that underworld.”

  Ary had a look of consternation on his face, “Why not just go into the poisoned lands to wipe them all out, once and for all?”

  Fenwylf frowned, “The Pitters don’t even go into her lands except by invitation and that only from the south gate where there is less danger of being long in the poisoned zone. For the poisoned lands are filled with trolls of all sorts; skinwalkers, creeps, and nihtgangers that defy description. Now here comes the rub. We have discovered the Cha’Kal is the son of Yggep and the Skull Worm.”

  Xelph, who up until now had remained unusually quiet, spoke up. “It has always been my understanding that the Death Heads abstain from sexuality. How comes this knowledge to you?”

  Fenwylf shook his head, “That belief is accurate enough, but Gloomulah has worked her dark magic. She has managed to take the seed of the Skull Worm and plant it in Yggep without them ever knowing each other as man and woman. The Cha’Kal was their offspring and is ever so cruel as his parents. Only three years ago he captured a band of Herewardi and Ndee, performed the Rite of the Pit on their leaders and cannibalized the rest, thus setting a precident that all enemies should be devoured. Even more than the other commissars, he has an insatiable appetite for rapine, mayhem, and the abominations aforementioned. His misuse of women is legendary, and he suffers none who service his needs to live long.”

  Elmer interjected, “Y’all mean they’s people who eat people?”

  “Yes, my blue friend. But that is the lesser of all their abominations. The most recent atrocity is their garnering all the maidens from any land they enter and exporting them to Queen Gloomulah, who again works her dark magic on them to render from them their blood.”

  Sur Sceaf asked, “What sort of magic is used to render the blood from the maidens?”

  “Somehow, Gloomulah is able to extract the youthful essence out of their menses to promote her own life and keep the Growlings alive. Then she has manufactured noogs, drugs that empower the body to work beyond its limits. It is rumored that she has provided the Cha’Kal with a weapon they call a tuloucan.” A dozen hands shot up. “I’ve been told this tuloucan is a metal canister like a hollow section of bamboo that blows smoke and vapor while hurling metal balls great distances. My informant, who has seen it, said it can do unbelievable damage where ever it strikes.”

  A buzz of comment swept around the assembly.

  Mack-Ka said, “But you have not seen this tuloucan with your own eyes?”

  “No, I have not laid eyes on it, but my informant has always given me correct information and has as much at stake as we do in the downfall of the empire.”

  Crooked Jack said, “We’ve got to get our hands on one o’ them. We have to meet fire with fire. Axe with axe.”

  Arundel and Ilkchild exchanged excited looks.

  Paloma spoke up next. “And have the Pitters been able to overcome the Friscans and the Citriodorans?”

  “No, they have not, my lady. Not yet, anyway. But one can see the writing on the wall. The Friscans as you know are a lot of idle rich, who value no man more than a solidus of gold, which means they can be bought, if the price is right. The Pitters need the Friscans to teach them seamanship. Then, I fear once the Pitters have learned it, they will move in to take the Friscan resources and navies rather than pay for them or build their own. The Citriodorans, on the other hand, will not be able to hold out against Pitter might. Their poor defenses and lack of male warriors will surely doom them against such mighty legions.”

  Pyrsyrus spoke in his sonorous voice, “That is why, my lord, I took it upon myself to plunder the entire Citriodoran herd of hackney horses. They are even now being unloaded at the docks and will be lead to my stud. Much use can be made of such fine horseflesh.”

  Sur Sceaf nodded his approval, “A very shrewd and crafty undertaking, my brother. The Citriodorans are post turtles anyway and could just as easily go over to the Pitters. What is for sure is that they cannot withstand the coming rage of the legions. I tremble to think that those magnificent horses could have even fallen into Pitter hands. Thank the gods for your insight and the Pitters ignorance of horse flesh. The only way we can ever justify plundering their horses will be to grant the Citriodorans sanctuary in our lands when their collapse comes and return them payment in kine.”

  “There is no need, their leadership has already abandoned them, my lord.”

  Mack-Ka sent a studying gaze around the room and said, “Lord Sur Sceaf, my queen shall hear report of these things I have seen and heard thus far. I cannot promise you that she will allow you to fortify our lands as you have done here, but these are some very compelling arguments for it. As you know, I must report your plundering of the Citriodorans to her. This alone could jeopardize your being permitted to send armies into our lands or to build forts, for what guarantee do we have that you wouldn’t do likewise to us?”

  Fenwylf immediately answered. “With your permission, my lord, I should like to address Ambassador Mack-Ka’s concern. May I ask, have the Syr Folk done your people any harm?”

  Mack-Ka smacked his lips. “I cannot say that is so. But one cannot always predict the future by past behaviors. I simply wish you to know, the queen is very suspicious of outlanders, who have no deep respect for nature or our unique religious beliefs.”

  Fenwylf said, “And yet I would wish you to consider that the Syr Folk have shown you and your beliefs no disrespect. Should they wish to, they have all the power necessary to force their beliefs on you and your people, but as you see, they do not.”

  Mack-Ka considered the matter as a new revelation for a moment. “I will make your point to the queen, but I make no promise this will influence her decision. And if you please, Fenwylf, I have one more question. Why do the Pitters not come directly to this island if they are so bent on destroying you?”

  “Because, they know our power to resist is great enough that it could end in a possible defeat. They would focus on us if they could, but as Lord Pyrsyrus has said, the Friscans and Citriodorans lie in the enemy’s path to us. They must defeat them first to get to us. Sadly, the Friscans and Citriodorans believe they are impervious to attack and have grossly underestimated the increased might of the Pitter legions.”

  Eyf inquired, “Long Swan has told us that the strife between the Pitters and the Herewardi has gone on for generations, much as the strife between Cerulea and Chartreusea. We have made peace. Why can’t you?”

  “I’m sorry, we didn’t clarify that enough,” Sur Sceaf said. “Their nature is coarse, rapacious, and destructive. They seek to subdue, enslave, or destroy all mankind. There can be no peace with those whose hearts are murderous by design. As for their hatred of the Herewardi specifically, there is a prophecy the Pitters have that causes them great alarm. It says that, if they do not destroy the Seed of the Woman, then the Seed of the Woman will destroy them. They are confused as to who the Seed of the Woman is, but know that he or she will come from the Herewardi tribe. We have intelligence that some think it is Lord Kanarus of the Kanninchens. Others believe it is his wife Saga, while still others think it is I. So they do not know where to strike first. In order to protect themselves, they are forced to divide their forces and fight us both until they know for sure who the Seed of the Woman is.”

  Mack-Ka nodded, “And who is the Seed of the Woman?”

  “We wish we knew, Ambassador Mack-Ka,” Sur Sceaf said. “We, Herewardi, have been given the same prophecy, but up to this point, the gods have seen fit to cover his, hers, or their identity.”

  Pita asked, “How come y’all don’t strike ‘em first?”

  Sur Sceaf smiled at the chief. “Spoken like a true warrior, Chief Blufre. It is because the enemy and its allies still greatly outnumber us. The Syr Folk and our allies have the wi
ll and the heart, but not the numbers. Additionally, I fear the addition of Yggep gives us all pause. Now that we have news that Yggep and her many followers are come back into favor with the Growlings and Gloomulah we may have to reconsider our time table.”

  Elmer said, “How come, y’all speak so evil agin this woman, Yggep?”

  Ehrenstein got to his feet, his eyes blazing. “It was from her camp at Brimestone, that the monsters of the poisoned lands were spawned by her hand. Within her deathcamps she experimented in gruesome and abbhorent ways upon pregnant women and children. That is why she is known as Yggep Green Teeth, the bitch of Brimestone. She alone can deliver the dark magics of war and pestilence into the hands of the Pitters, and she does not faint at doing so. Going so far as to slay, misform, and pervert the unborn.”

  Mack-Ka was sickened. “These people have lost their humanness.”

  Crooked Jack declared, “Be grateful that you have never encountered such monsters and demons. But mark my words, they are coming your way. And will show you no more mercy than they showed those women and children in their death camps.”

  * * *

  One hour after the council fire, Xelph went off to find Zrael the Goater in the Quailor settlement of Beef Wood on the southeast side of Lake Redith. As he strode along the dusty road from Godeselle, he soon spotted the stone cottage with its neatly tended flower and vegetable gardens just ahead. He had just opened the picket gate when he ran into Zrael’s wife sweeping off the threshold.

  “Os-Frith. Is Zrael anywhere nearby?”