[The Anagolay]
It is midday and the sun is at its highest.
Despite of the glaring heat, Essius city is booming with peoples selling and buying. No sidewalk or street in the market place is bare of wooden makeshift stalls with roofs of cloth. Others made the ground their table even sling the display on their shoulders.
Wherever I look, I see miscellany things from pots, alabaster jars, woven baskets brimming with fruits to chickens flapping around. Muddied pigs, cows being paraded, flowers grown in Freobel, even clothing from the three kingdoms. The mixture of dialects being shouted, acrid odor of human sweat, contributes to the madness of squeezing your way through people.
I duck on one of the stalls which sells luscious mangoes, guavas and papayas. The sweet delicious smell of ripe fruit waters my mouth and I buy one bundle: ten pieces of the guava, five mangoes which I put in my satchel. I munch one guava as I went out, hunching my back. Dragging my left foot.
Striding to the west, I come upon a display of slaves; eight girls and boys of Gjid, thirteen to fifteen summers young tied to rusted shackles on their hands, neck and feet. Names and rights – identities stripped off. For a minute, I stop to look.
Dressed in brown wool tunic, heads low over their necks, they look anxiously at the crowd as if they know their master will be worse than before. All the while they are being inspected on whether they have healthy teeth, capable bones, strong muscles. Then the bidding starts. I am almost tempted to sell Sanim.
Why have I not killed him?
I chastise to myself as I walk again. The rules were simple, real simple. I do not have to care as long as I get paid. I have been following it for eleven years and now I broke it. Good job being the Anagolay. I might just be the first one to break the rules.
What is happening to me? I even let the girl escape. When I look back to her in Lur two days ago, she was gone. I could not trace her tracks for there was none. It was like she vanished with the wind. However possible.
Three stalls next a glint hits my eyes demanding attention. A table full of arrows. The frown from thinking of my mistakes lifts. There are various arrowhead shapes, made of palmwood, bamboo, stone and obsidian of different sizes.
Some arrows have barbed ends like fish hooks. Bamboo arrows and triangular arrowhead of obsidian, I recognize it as a trademark, forged in Ia, the smith city of Thraine. The other half of the merchandise has tips made of steel. Feathers are trimmed with perfect symmetry, refined especially for war. Smuggled from Aeon itself, I am impressed.
Like a boy eyeing a candy, I trace my fingers on the smooth curves of bamboo and palmwood bows resting beside the arrows. Recurve bows, long bows they are as lovely as the pale crescent moon reflected on a lake. The shafts, highly polished and others shod with rattan, are carved with intricate swirls and intertwining vines of arabesque. And the bowstring…
"Good day, old man. What can I get you?"
I would have gone salivating from the bowstring but the seller interrupts with a hard, slightly out of tone Aonnite language. He is a middle-aged man judging from the wrinkles. Weathered light brown hair and skin. Beard covers his face similar to what I have only he had his braided on both sides reaching his chest.
Taller than I am in weaved blue-black garments, the seller. There is a dark glint in his eyes; the look every warrior has and there is a sword held by a loincloth around his waist. A scimitar, I think.
"Your arrows with this bow," I say with a fake old man voice, pointing the obsidian and steel arrows with the recurve palmwood bow.
"Hundred each of the arrows."
"Good choice. Why so many?" he asks, immediately getting the arrows inside a weaved quiver.
"Out to hunt," I say barring my teeth. He grins, two of his lower teeth are missing, the other one has a hole in it.
"Then you might be interested on this –" he reaches out below his table and produces a sword in a polished wooden scabbard.
"The Tanabas. Light, quick, one strike kills many."
Its hilt is made of hardwood, its bend to fit a grip and designed with braided rattan. A carved head of a creature is barring its teeth, roaring. I unsheathe the Tanabas disclosing a thin single-edged steel blade, curving out slightly near the edged end trailing to point.
It is about three inches longer than an ordinary sword. I throw it from right to left, slicing it mid-air, admiring the glamour of the steel. Just as the seller says it is light for its height.
"For you," he offers. I became cautious slightly. He is being too generous.
"Why?"
He nods his head at the opposite tent. I turn and sees the table emptied, no things to sell, no seller. Confiscated? No – raided. This city is crawling with rats of lawless people. I check the Tanabas again and decided.
"I will take it."
"Waay. Perfect."
Just as suddenly, I feel eyes on me.
I look to the seller but he has his back on me, tying the quiver. Then I turn to my left observing people. I was distracted with the weapons that I fail to notice, I am being watched. I hear the price and I hand fifty silver coins for everything. I sling the bow and quiver, the Tanabas on my waist as I look for my spy.
I see her immediately, few stalls away right in broad daylight. The girl watching me outside a stand of carpets has a dazed expression like a lost child, pinched eyes, and wet hair as though she was soaked.
As I near her, evading people coming and going thereto she looks at me with recognition. She is young, not older than twenty years, in a sleeved, long linen dress with a wide leather belt. It is not what catches attention.
I do not know who she is but I know her kind. Hair the darkest shade of night sky, eyes of deep brown it is almost black and skin of honey.
A Vanuyan.
Aeonnites call them the Valley people. The tribe was wiped out in fear that they would arise, lead a rebellion and overthrow the conqueror's kingdom, all according to a prophecy.
This girl is in grave danger.
I grab a faded red scarf from the adjacent stall. Pulling her in one hand which stuns her. I cover her head with the scarf swiftly. The lady that sells it is about to nag but I toss her a coin. A few interested eyes glance in our direction but only to look at the merchandise. No one notices something in disarray.
Did she know how stupid it was to wander like that when even her hair stands out?
I need to get her out of the main streets. A darkened alley is concealed between the lady's stall and the stall of a fat man selling carpets. Leaning my head slightly to the left, I signal. Without an answer, she moves past me and heads straight to the direction I gave her. Turning, I sweep my gaze to the buzzing crowd.
Nothing suspicious. Yet.
On the narrow path, she slows and faces me. I sidestep her small frame, ignoring the question on her face.
"Have you lost your mind, girl?" I say. "You are not safe here - anywhere."
The alley opens to another street, an empty one. Houses of stones and mud bricks are symmetrically lined on opposites.
Which house did I go in again?
"You don't recognize me," she states under a breath. Confuse, I look back at her. She twists the scarf to a knot on her chest to keep it from falling.
"Where is he?" she asks. Narrowing my eyes, I move closer to her taking in the clothing, her identity shaping. Could it be? Is this the strange girl from Lur?
Thousands of questions form in my head in an instant, the strongest ones stick out. How did you disappear? You managed to escape on me, is that how you survived?
Who are you exactly?
Skeptical, I run my gaze back and forth between the narrow alley and on the empty street before I gesture for her to move. I lead her to a long chain of houses. We take a sharp turn left. The closest house has a small black stone at the doorstep.
As though nothing of importance to others but I left it there. The door opens willingly and the inside is just as deserted. With a last glance, I close the door. I drop all pretense of an old man and I stand to my height, rolling my shoulders.
The girl finds Sanim I bound on a corner, mouth gagged. All his gold I sold except for his crest that I hid. She tries to run on his aid but I stop her short with a sword drawn in hand.
"Sit. There." I order. She obligately sits under the windows across Sanim and I stand between them, curious.
A Vanuyan that speaks the tongue of the invaders. Strange and interesting.
"Tell me your name," I say to her. She looks bothered by my question like she is not allowed to tell.
"I don't have one." She says after a pause, not meeting my eyes.
A snort escapes from me. Brave, I give her that. I wave the Tanabas at her. She clenches her jaw and stiffens from the sight. Sweat bundles on her forehead and nose.
"Eleven years have gone and yet your kind is still being hunted. If I surrender you to the King he might give me my weight in gold."
I tilt my head, actually considering. In doing so king Cirrhinus might forget that I did not brought him Sanim or… I could present them both to him.
The girl wavers slouching but she gathers herself immediately, pointing her chin and breathing in regular intervals. She is almost calm even. It looks like threats on her life do not work well.
Sanim squeaks unable to speak, straining on his bounds. I throw him a look, the boy bounces hatred back. He speaks something in Thraine and I only smirk.
"What are you planning to do with him?"
The concern on the girl's glimpsing eyes is clear. Uhuh. I balance a guava I bought earlier on Sanim's head.
"Your name," I demand again.
When she did not answer, I pull a dagger placed under my elbow and send it flying on Sanim's head slicing the guava in half.
"It's Lila." She says right when the dagger hits, scrambling. "My name's Lila." She looks at me with resentment as she sits back.
"Lila, what is he to you?" Pointing to Sanim who is again trying to break free of his bonds.
"Nobody," she answers at once, throat gulping.
"Let us try without a guava, shall we? I am sure I would hit him somewhere."
"Nobody, I'm telling you. Just a boy I happen to…save," she says, voice trembling. It seems she is telling the truth.
Apparently, she is still saving him. Why did you have to you idiot.
Picking half pieces of the guava, I give one to Sanim removing the cloth gagged on his mouth and I throw the other half to Lila. It will be no use if they both die.
Her eyes follow my every move.
"Your first instinct was to save me," she speaks suddenly. "You defied your employer by letting him live. For someone who long sold his allegiances to gold, you have more conscience in your bones than that fat man selling carpet."
In one swift motion, I hit the wall an inch shy from her ear, killing a fly.
Tsk. I missed.
Her eyes take a sweet time looking at the dagger still swinging.
"How did you survive the massacre?" Slowly she meets my gaze.
"What?" Lila asks as if choked.
"You heard me."
She could not answer. Looking at me with renewed panic, opening and closing her mouth like a fish having a drink.
"You see, you are weak. I do not think you could have fought your way to survive and even if you did, you still should have died that day."
"I–I–I–I went away. For a long time. I was not there when it happened. I–I just came back," stutters Lila.
"And where did you go?" I query as I unsling the bow and place an arrow.
"F–Far," she lies more.
Without looking, I release the arrow. I know it hit the space near Sanim's neck, grazing. Sanim shrieking. Fifteen yards is chicken. She looks rather amazed than alarmed. Aiming to his heart, an arrow in place, I draw the bow.
"How were you able to disappear on me that day?" I say, my voice low, lethal.
Lila stretches her arm, saying "Wait," while her eyes are rapidly bouncing between my arrow and Sanim.
"You don't have to hurt a kid."
I smirk. "Answer the question."
"I don't know how, ok?"
"Okay?" Who talks that way? What does than even mean?
"I really - honestly, don't know what to say to you."
"How about I shoot him everytime you evade a question."
"Please…"
On my peripheral, I see a shadow move just outside the window, then another. Lila looks as well noticing the shift in attention. Cretins. Who could that be at this exact moment? Stinking, bloody – I catch myself. Regrettably we have to escape here first.
"Upstairs, now." I say, keeping my voice as low as possible.
As she hurries to the stairs, I quickly cut Sanim's bounds with the dagger I shot taking the arrow along. I follow after the boy throwing the bow over my shoulder.
On the upper space, as odds would have it, a window is placed on the side of the alley. I peek, the girl beside me. The drop is probably ten feet. Before I can say a word, she jolts as if being touched by cold hands of enkantos. I catch a whiff of her nervousness reeking like sweat. Is she afraid of heights?
"I will go first. Jump right after. Do not hesitate." I say to both of them. "Or take your chances with the traders."
A creak warns below as I swing my feet out. Like a cat, I land flawlessly silent. Sanim drops a second after. I snatch his arm preventing him to run. But the girl crashes down between us forcing my hand to let go.
The boy sprints off, I try to run after him. Lila grabs hold of my waist.
Curse it!
I twist from her hold and she let go. I backhand her then. Her cheek blooms with red. Sanim is long gone by now.
"You will pay for that," I seethe. She cowers. I sense our pursuers caught up with us, lingering on the other end of the alley.
"Run."
Briskly, the girl went out on the street getting drag along by Essians like a leaf on rapidly drifting river. They all go to the same place at this time of day.
When I got out, the girl is trying hard to resist the heavy flow of people. She manages to duck on one of the stalls, trying to make her presence even smaller.
I happily lest swiftly remove the dark beard that cling like skin, the bushy eyebrows, fake greying hair atop my head, reassured that no one can notice with the thickness of the crowd. I work my way with another disguise as I slip anonymously. Stealing a straw hat, a hoodless pineapple-fiber woven cloak that one stupidly was on act of removing and a bamboo jug on unsuspecting individuals. Lila searches the crowd for Sanim but he would be hard to spot.
By the time the girl's eyes found mine, she still knows it is me.
Nobody knows who I am, what I look like. For nobody ever laid their eyes on me. The truth is because they do not bother. I am just another face layered over a hundred more; a common person of rich brown texture, hair and skin as is the people in Freobel. Hence, my real face could be my best disguise.
A disguise that in some way this strange Vanuyan knows and it bothers me.
I snag her arm with me. She could run away this instant. Hide wherever it is she hid when Aeonnites raided her tribe. Not that it matters. I will find her eventually and make her pay for what she did.
Cacophony of cheers slowly fills my ears even though the structure is far ahead. Instead of a public plaza, Essius city boasts a spectacle that other Aeonnite city do not have.
The box amphitheater stood proudly fifty feet high and continues in terraces thirty feet below. Like all other battle arena this one witnessed a lot of death, convivial to it like a friend. Thousands of heads decorating the entire outer wall is a proof of that.
I glance at Lila and she pales awfully. Her hands instantly clasp her mouth, fiercely stopping herself from vomiting.
Some of the heads still have flesh, slow to decay. Their mouths are agape, pleading a silent mourn with empty eyes staring at a distance, searching for the light. At the center of their forehead is the circular head of a nail as if marking them in place.
Sharp claws of vultures and carrion birds, rip and hack but the hopelessness cling so tight, nothing can separate it from the faces. Sick, excruciating smell of spoiled meat and fattened maggots, invites more flies than men but they flock still.
The girl lurches, I imagine her stomach must be as we reach the several arc entrances, where the smell is strongest. The human multitude disperses unaffected, noses numb, stomachs accustomed. While the girl skedaddles on far corner, retching her heart out.
I watch her, intrigue tugging at me. Her bearing reveals naivety and innocence. This place and the neighboring kingdoms have been at war for ages, you get used to the deaths sooner or later. She must really be from another land.
Inside, the merciless shouts and howls are clear. "Ten men enter! One man leaves!" More and more, they chant. More and more, they spit. "Ten men enter! One man leaves!"
Lila's face tightens with nothing much to let out and I see her lips, body parts, shuddering. Slightly indecisive, I tap my hand on her back and offer her the water which she gladly takes. She might also be on the verge of tears.
"Welcome to Essius, the blackmarket city." I say.
As if the horror is not enough, a shadow settles over her face. She would not want to see what is happening on the death square but she dashes forward, I on her tail, just in time to see ten men entering from different prison cells on the square's center.
They carry weapons with them, shields, swords, pole-axe, halberd, whatever you can name. Some are built to fight, born to it while others are skinny, brittle creatures that can be crushed like dust.
They are a mixture of conquered soldiers, sold slaves and folks that are so blood raged they do not know what else to do. Ten of them enter and nine of them get his head added on the wall each and every week. Even if the winner lives today chances are, he will not be tomorrow. It is intended to instill fear. A massacre by other means, through sport. Entertainment.
This is what has become of Freobel. Of the cities sieged. Of peoples conquered.
The girl grips the stone bulwark hard. A gong explodes in the distance starting the fight and the crowd burst with mad exhilaration. One big brute kills another in seconds with just a strike of his mace. An idiot tried to get back inside his prison but a soldier standing guard on the cell, stabs him with a lance. There is no escaping the death square other than death, ironic. The brute is now engaged by an opponent. Six others have fights of their own. Bets started to go around as body, bones and blood clash. Lila looks away.
Several paces on my left our pursuers enter. Two men wearing wool knee-length tunics, swords on waists and eyes like daggers sweep their gaze around on a hunt.
Slave traders. They are not looking for anyone in particular only those that are lost. And perhaps of a Vanuyan. The girl looks at me wide eyed. I intentionally drop the jug and I stoop to get it.
"Act casually," I whisper as my mouth passes her ear.
I grip her arm and we trudge on, down the stairs until we are forty seats near the fight. I loop my arm on hers and pretended to cheer while I watch them carefully. One of the slavers who just recently enter the amphitheater drags a boy caught like a mouse on a trap.
Not just any boy. It is Lur's heir.