by Penn Fawn
“Correct,” Nyeusi replied. “You need no reminding when I say if the truth be told, they value no life other than their own.”
“I hear you,” Abysinnia replied. “But what would you have us do?”
“I’d have you listen. You, the council, and from there, word will spread,” he replied.
“Yes, but you want some type of action,” Abysinnia said.
“It is why I am here,” Nyeusi replied. “But before this, all of our kin, down to the last skeptic, must know about what has transpired. Perhaps now they may be convinced any talk that suggests the immortals can cohabit or exist harmoniously with nature will be abandoned.
“After what happened out on the plains, we now have enough witnesses to testify about how murderous a lot they are. The authenticity of this will not be questioned.”
“Very well,” Abysinnia said.
“After the council meeting, our brothers here will come to know, and I will personally meet with our kin in the mountains to inform them about the savagery of these creatures.”
“As you wish,” Abysinnia replied.
“You are to be mindful of your telling this,” Nyeusi said. “Do you hear me?”
“I will be,” Abysinnia replied.
“In any event, you will be here as I relate and give a thorough account of it to the council. They were the aggressors, you see,” he added, looking Abysinnia in the eye.
“Recall my telling you luckily, after a routine flight to monitor the lands between us, we observed them advance toward our homes, clearly with the intent of destroying us.”
Abysinnia stared at him, and Nyeusi felt he appeared at a loss for comprehension.
“Right,” the younger brother said, then he shook his head to confirm he understood.
The council members began arriving, and shortly after they all did, Nyeusi explained once more what transpired.
“I’m surprised but perhaps should not be by several things you mentioned,” one stated. This was Firstson.
“At what in particular?” Nyeusi asked.
“On the whole, it’s an incredible story,” he replied, “but to learn they’ve grown to such numbers and are out there in the open is quite troubling. To know they’ve become as audacious as to launch an attack against us, that’s all the more disturbing. No one pretending to have any kind of sense would argue this can be allowed to continue.”
“Not just any attack,” Nyeusi said. “They meant to obliterate us, but ours fought bravely, and although our body count was high, we did manage to repel them.”
“Hm,” Firstson uttered.
“Now that you’ve shed light on what transpired, you understand our indignation,” another councilman interjected. This was Moto. “The question now is what would you have us do,” he added.
“Well,” Nyeusi began, “I am open to suggestions, and I was hoping I could get some good ones from you. As the old saying goes, two or more heads are better than one.”
“Given the casualties you sustained, do you now not have enough fighters to stand against them?” Moto asked.
“We have enough to give a good account of ourselves, but I need more,” Nyeusi replied. “A good account is hardly enough. I need assurance there will not be a repeat of what happened.”
“There are a million miles with all sorts of terrain, plus a sea between us and Urkran,” Moto replied. Urkran was the Shetani stronghold located south of Kimbilio, across from the Great Plains.
“I know,” Nyeusi said.
“You’re not suggesting . . .”
“Anything,” Nyeusi interjected. “Not yet. Not before I hear your suggestions.”
“But you want more resources. More fighters. Do you not?” Moto asked.
“I do,” Nyeusi replied.
“Then, the question of how do we get them to you is paramount,” Moto said.
“Without a doubt,” Nyeusi replied.
“Not only will it be a challenge, it will also take time,” Moto said. “More than you care to know.”
“Indeed,” Nyeusi said.
“Securing aid from our kin in the mountains is probably the better bet. They’re not quite as far away, are they? Plus, there is no sea between you and them,” said Firstson.
“And, what of our brothers north of the Forest of Souls?” Abysinnia asked.
“You know the answer to that,” Nyeusi said. “That would introduce the probability of facing another battle just to get to their village.”
“Another battle?” Abysinnia said.
“Where’s your memory?” Nyeusi returned. “The forest is infested with ghouls. No one wants any trouble with them if that could be avoided. Recall they are as plentiful as the forest bats there and well nestled within that terrain. They know how to fight from a position of concealment and would therefore prove to be no mere nuisance.”
Abysinnia said nothing more.
“And, what of our mountain kin?” Firstson asked.
“That will present some additional challenges,” Nyeusi said.
“Enough to make them the less viable alternative?” Firstson asked. “Come now, Nyeusi. When was the last time we saw you? You’re here for a reason. You never fail to think things over thrice. What’s on your mind?”
“Ideally, to punish them with a surprise attack,” he replied.
“And, what’s to stop this?” Firstson asked.
“I’d eliminate the lot before they could so much as raise a finger,” Nyeusi replied.
“You’re asking the impossible,” Moto said.
“Am I?” Nyeusi asked. “They all but did the impossible to us. Should we manage our affairs efficiently, that would be a just reward.”
“And, you still haven’t told us specifically what you have in mind,” Firstson said. “Or, do you have any specifics in mind? I suspect you do.”
“Sounds to me like no matter what choice is made, there will be heavy casualties. If they’ve grown into such a force, shouldn’t we consider a truce? I’m getting the impression this would likely be best for both parties,” a certain Betason added.
The room fell silent.
Nyeusi’s neck and head suddenly felt very warm, then hot.
If it were possible to pierce a man like one may do with a spear, but by using a cold hard stare, Betason would have been mortally wounded, if not dead, instantaneously.
“You’re getting the impression?” Nyeusi said, and he held him in this visual vice grip for the next few seconds.
Betason did not reply.
“I wonder what you know, or how much you think you know, about these invaders to dare mention what you did. Must be a lot.”
Betason remained silent.
“Well, let’s hear it,” Nyeusi said, but Betason thought it was best to say nothing.
“I suspect saying anything to you will be a waste of time, but I will speak anyway. Not because I’m interested in you or anything you or those like you have to say or believe. I’ll speak for the benefit of the others to hear.
“I have traveled longer and farther than you can imagine, and during that time, I have seen what this scourge you’d offer a truce is about.”
“I didn’t say offer, but rather consider offering, my lord,” he interjected.
“Be silent!” Nyeusi said emphatically.
“I offered you a chance to speak before. Did I not?”
He did not reply.
“There is nothing to consider!” Nyeusi added.
“I have seen what these invaders are about, both here and from the lands from which they came. I can see their world because I have traveled through the portal in the mountain. Have you?
“What’s more is I’ve had a view of what the future holds for all life there through the necromancer’s stone.
“This scourge you’d consider offering a truce won’t merely kill a wildebeest or two, and not for food but for fun. Or, as they call it, cull herds to make space for their ever-growing numbers. They will obliterate entire forests, poison, an
d kill all life in rivers and streams. Oceans, seas, nothing to them is sacred, and nothing anywhere will be spared.
“So, what do you think they will make of you, my foolish friend? The most they may offer you is not a truce, but if you’re lucky, confinement like we do to their kind in the mountains.
“Your fate, however, is more likely to sooner or later be extermination, given their penchant for doing this without exception to whatever does not look like them.
“Now, is such a profane creation something you’d offer a truce to?”
Betason looked at him.
“You may speak,” Nyeusi said.
He was slow to respond.
“I wonder,” he began, “if two wrongs make a right and if perhaps we ought to not lead by example.”
Nyeusi allowed himself a moment before replying.
“I’ll be kind and generous enough to offer you one of two options,” he began. “Meet me outside now, and you’ll be allowed the use of your sword in defense, or you may remain here in silence until this meeting is over, after which I’ll have your head removed. Which one is it?”
“My Lord . . .” Betason began, and he stood up.
Nyeusi raised his arm in the air, and he said no more.
“Which one is it?” Nyeusi asked, and the room once again fell into a deathly silence.
A second passed, then two, three . . . . Seven seconds passed.
“Sit down, you would be traitor,” Nyeusi said, and Betason did as was told.
Nyeusi wrestled with trying to come to a decision about what he should say next.
“Now, where were we before being so rudely interrupted?” he said.
His temperature slowly began to cool. Betason suddenly felt quite cold, although perspiration appeared on his forehead.
Nyeusi began to discuss what he had in mind as a strategic attack, and the assembly, all of them except Betason found it difficult to concentrate on the topic of discussion.
The inability to concentrate lingered. The meeting drew to a close, and Betason could not recall a word of what was discussed after he was told to sit and be silent.
Nyeusi gave his closing remarks and Betason, with the longest face he ever wore, felt numb.
“Take him to the executioner’s block,” Nyeusi ordered, then he made to depart. “His life is forfeit.”
“My Lord,” the condemned soul lamented, but his words fell on deaf ears.
In the blink of an eye, Nyeusi was no longer among them, and his thoughts were on whether he should try to get a bit of rest.
He decided he would.
He headed toward his chambers and was pleased to see his bed and all within the place was kept in as immaculate a condition as if he had never left.
Barely twenty minutes passed before he settled into bed when Abysinnia came looking for him.
“Leave us,” he said, and the guards who came with him departed.
Nyeusi sat up.
“It is done,” Abysinnia said.
“Very well,” the elder brother replied.
“How long before you’d have us leave for Maar?”
Maar was a pristine forested region hundreds of miles east of the Besi or great river.
“I wasn’t thinking of you going,” Nyeusi replied.
“No?” Abysinnia said.
“No,” Nyeusi replied.
“Okay,” Abysinnia said.
“Do you want to?” Nyeusi asked.
“It doesn’t make a difference to me,” Abysinnia replied.
“Why not stay here?” Nyeusi asked. “Continue to be my eyes and ears while I’m away. In fact, I’d prefer that.”
“As you wish,” Abysinnia said.
“For the immediate future, most of what’s to do away from here will be grunt work anyway. Stay here and relax a bit,” Nyeusi said.
“Fine,” Abysinnia replied.
“Good,” Nyeusi said.
“And, when the work is done, when they are prepared, what will you have me do? Will you at least keep us informed this time, considering how many of our men here will be involved?”
“Of course,” Nyeusi replied.
“And, will you not want me to play any larger role then? I mean after they have built the boats?” Abysinnia asked.
“You are a commander and a strong leader,” Nyeusi replied. “You needn’t throw yourself into the heart of this battle unless you have a mind for it.”
“I needn’t, but I don’t mind,” Abysinnia said.
“Your enthusiasm warms my heart, brother. I commend you. This time there will be no mistakes. They will not expect an approach coming from the east as they have no men that way, or certainly not as far away as Maar. Also, this is not a last stand kind of situation,” Nyeusi said.
“But you were mistaken about their presence before.”
“I’ll have the area further monitored before long. How’s that?” Nyeusi said.
“Very well,” Abysinnia replied, “and, on that note, I’ll leave you to get some rest. Who isn’t already informed about what’s going on needs to be. I’ll see to that.
“Our riders will need to be informed and prepared with all the necessities for the journey. There is no time for play. We shall talk further before you depart.”
“Thank you, brother,” Nyeusi said.
Dusk was fast arriving, and the immortals decided they would rest as well. They were grateful to be blessed with consecutive days of no rain since getting any rest meant sleeping out in the open exposed to the elements.
Fear of being attacked by nocturnal predators persisted while they slept, but the fires they made around them proved to be sufficient to ward off any beasts that may have had having a meal in mind.
The individual campfires stretched out over so large an area, for that matter, that for the nocturnal animals, they proved to be more a spectacle and source of intrigue than any inspiration to launch an attack.
Men shared the responsibility of awakening every few hours to ensure they kept the fires going, plus keep an eye out should there be any daring and wayward beast that may have fancied having a go at them.
They awoke at the crack of dawn, as did Nyeusi, with both parties bent on heading to their homes.
“I hope I will see you again,” Abysinnia said.
“Like it’s such an improbability. Why do you say it like that?” Nyeusi asked.
“Because,” Abysinnia replied.
“Because what?” Nyeusi asked.
“Because these are trying times,” Abysinnia replied.
“They are,” Nyeusi affirmed. “But as far as being involved in any unusual danger, nothing will happen unless they launch an attack on us.”
“And, how probable do you believe that is?” Abysinnia said.
“Anything is possible,” Nyeusi replied, “but at least we’re making plans.”
“Plans that may be thwarted,” Abysinnia said.
“Have faith, my brother. Think positive thoughts,” Nyeusi said.
“Very well,” Abysinnia said.
Nyeusi embraced him.
He and a farewell party that included Firstson, Moto, and Kalinda, watched him mount his kilman and fly away.
Abysinnia turned to Moto. “We have work to do,” he said.
“Indeed,” Moto replied.
“We must tell the riders the time has come to prepare themselves to head to Maar,” Abysinnia added.
“Right,” Moto said.
Meanwhile, there wasn’t a man left at Kimbilio who hadn’t ventured out onto the plains that now failed to assemble outside the village.
They stared fixedly at the horizon. The inside of palms clenched steadfastly to weapons became sweaty.
Perspiration congealed on many a brow, and there was not a cheery face among them.
Apprehension slowly turned to curiosity as the source that so alarmed them drew nearer, and now, it did not appear to be so foreboding after all, or so many of the onlookers began to believe.
Several men f
rom the approaching army raised their arms in the air and waived.
Oba, who was at the front of the ranks, smiled.
“They’re our men!” he exclaimed. “It’s a miracle!”
A boisterous cheer emanated from the crowd.
“So many of them. Can this be true, or do my eyes deceive me?” one fellow said.
Glum faces now appeared happy. All fear and trepidation vanished, and many an immortal ran madly and excitedly toward each other.
In his overzealousness, one would have knocked Oba over had it not been for a friend who held him before he hit the ground.
They threw themselves into each other’s arms, wrapped themselves around each other, lifted others off their feet, all in uproarious jubilation over what they previously believed was improbable.
How in heavens name could they have overcome so terrifying an army, or did they ever face Nyeusi’s men? The questions in their heads were endless.
“Can you believe your eyes, my brothers?” Oba asked.
“I can,” the fellow nearest him replied.
“How in the name of God?” a fellow next to Oluso asked.
“Because we are more manly than they are,” he replied, and a boisterous roar came from the crowd.
“Right you are!” someone shouted.
“Hooray!” the crowd roared.
“We are all ears,” another fellow who stayed back among the last line of defense interjected. “Onward home we go, then do tell us all,” he added, and those words too were met with great cheer.
Those who stayed back hoisted a number of the victorious into the air to shouts of hooray every time a fellow was caught and flung upward.
Others got hold of the triumphant ones and carried them aloft or on their shoulders toward their home.
“All that’s missing now to make this the perfect occasion is a good strong drink,” Feignmann remarked.
“Agreed,” Pseudomann added.
“God, do I miss being able to drink. Drink and be able to hold it down, enjoy what I drank,” Feignmann said.
“We all do,” Zaeim said, “but don’t let it dampen the mood. Be grateful we are still alive.”
“I am,” Feignmann said. “It’s so good to be alive.”
The minute they arrived home, those who comprised what was to be their last line of defense reminded their warrior peers to spare no detail about their adventures.
