1218-06-16
I ran and ran.
The bright savanna light bathed what was left of Zandu that day. That day.
"I promise, Zandu will become what it once was."
Those words echoed in my mind as I ducked under cover. As time flew, and the years passed, they remained my only thought.
Living up to the sacrifice of my father and my brother—this was my burden. And now, I was to lead. I was to be the one my people looked to for hope, for strength.
But could I do this?
"Dad," a voice whispered through the fog of my dreams.
The air in the tent was still. Across from me hung a worn tapestry, its once-brilliant purple now dulled with age, dotted with hundreds of tiny patterns. Not as many as my father's, nor my brother's before him.
And yet, here I was—older than either of them had lived to be.
In the dim light, a small crib sat nearby. Inside, my youngest daughter, just three years old, stirred. She cooed softly, her tiny form barely visible in the shadows. There was something unnervingly quiet about her presence, even in sleep.
"Dad!" The same voice shouted again, louder this time.
A rush of small footsteps broke the silence, and moments later, my children burst into the tent.
"What is it, A?" I asked, my voice heavy with sleep but laced with concern.
"Can I hunt with you?" A small voice asked.
I paused, considering. A—he's at that age, isn't he? When I was five, my father had taken me on my first hunt. It wasn't a hunt for anything dangerous like gazelles or lions; we chased small pigs, something safe for a child's first experience. Yet, even that had made me feel like one of the men—like I belonged.
I did a quick count in my head. Eleven days. In just 111 days, A would turn five. Could I deny him this honor?
A was different from the other children of Ghar. Most children here have black hair and dark eyes, some even red like embers. But A had something unique—a pair of purple eyes that shone like berries under the sun. An anomaly, much like my father.
"Sure," I said with a smile, looking down at him. "Go tell Kell I'll be there shortly."
A grinned and stumbled out of the hut, running toward the exit.
"Thanks, Dad!" he called back, his voice full of excitement.
Watching him run, I couldn't help but think of my brother. A would grow strong, fast—a warrior, just like him.
I turned to the crib where Ada lay, twisting and turning in her sleep. I sighed. I wished Ada hadn't been born on this wretched continent. She deserved a better life—a life away from all this.
I picked up my taji, wrapping it around my head, and then gently lifted Ada from the crib. I rocked her in my arms as she slowly woke up, her small hands grasping at the air.
Ada was far more adventurous than A. Once she had learned to walk, she explored everywhere.
"I love you," I whispered to her.
A woman stepped into the hut. A servant. I passed Ada to her, and she nodded before cradling the child.
I stepped outside, into the golden light of the savanna. The sun beat down on the land, warming the air with its intensity. The smell of dry earth and grass surrounded me. A stood waiting, his small figure silhouetted against the horizon, the wind ruffling his dark hair.
"I told you to get Kell," I said, scolding him lightly.
"I wanted to go with you," A replied with a cheeky grin, raising his hand for me to hold.
"Don't tell me you're scared of him," I teased.
"I'm not!" A protested, puffing out his chest. "He's weak. I could beat him."
I laughed. "You could beat him? I'm not so sure about that."
"Watch me," A said confidently.
We left the city of Zandu. In the distance, the wooden gates stood tall, though the land outside bore scars—evidence of the past. A small crater marked where Addo once stood.
Zandu was no longer the same. The drought and the fragile peace had forced many of Ghar's tribes to unite, not just with each other but with outsiders. We had allied with Miso—once a thriving tribe, now called New Miso. They were now a small tribe like us, located to the east, but still our allies. They provided food and weather reports from merchants, and we offered them strength.
Despite our hardships, Zandu was growing. Slowly, but steadily, we were becoming one of the top tribes again. Our small huts and tents were no longer enough. It was time to build—structures of stone and marble, something reminiscent of old Miso's grandeur.
But such dreams required strength and unity. To achieve them, we needed each other.
"Dad?" A called out, snapping me from my thoughts.
"Sorry, buddy. I got lost in my head."
"Were you thinking about the dragons?" he asked with wide eyes.
I chuckled. "No, A. I wasn't. Let's go."
At top speed, I could reach New Miso in three hours. But with A and my troops, the journey would take significantly longer.
We ran.
And ran.
Until finally, the city of New Miso came into view—a settlement perched on the edge of the Central Sea, to the east. Its wooden gates loomed before us, sturdy but weathered by time and the elements. Outside the gates, a small force of fifty or so people stood waiting. Leading them was Kell.
Kell was a young man with striking red eyes and jet-black hair, the unmistakable marks of a fighter. If not for him, Zandu would not be where it was today.
"KELL!" I shouted, waving as we approached.
"LORET!" he called back, his voice booming across the open space.
We clasped hands firmly in greeting, his grip as strong as ever. Just as we finished, A finally caught up, panting but trying to stand tall.
"You're looking big!" Kell said with a grin, leaning down to address A.
"You're looking bigger!" A quipped, grinning back. "Lay off the sweets!"
Kell threw his head back and laughed heartily. "He's sharp," he said, glancing at me. "Is he coming with us?"
"Yes," I replied with a nod.
"What are we hunting?" A asked eagerly, his eyes bright with excitement.
"We'll start with something small," Kell said, ruffling A's hair with a smile.
The group began to mobilize, splitting into two teams.
The hunters, led by me, Kell, A, and around ten warriors, prepared to track game. This would be A's first hunt.
The gatherers, meanwhile, headed toward the nearby forest to collect fruits and berries. Their harvest would supply dyes for clothing and feasts for the coming banquets.
The savanna stretched around us, golden grass swaying under the sun, as we walked deeper into Ghar.
A small boar darted into view, its tusks glinting briefly as it rooted near a thicket. Kell motioned for us to stop, raising his hand silently.
"There," he whispered, pointing toward the boar.
A's purple eyes widened.
"I'll get it," A whispered.
"Wait. Watch Kell first," I said firmly.
Kell moved like a shadow, circling wide to flank the boar while gesturing for me to position A. I placed my hand on A's back and guided him closer. The boar grunted, its ears flicking, sensing something amiss.
Without warning, It broke free and lunged forward.
"A!" I shouted, too late.
The boar squealed in alarm and bolted, but A was faster than I expected. He dove onto its back, gripping the coarse fur as the boar thrashed wildly. Its tusk swung upward, narrowly missing his face.
Kell was on it in an instant. With a swift motion, he plunged his dagger into the boar's side. A tumbled off.
"I got it!" he exclaimed, brushing dirt from his knees.
Kell shook his head, half laughing. "Be careful A—unless you want to lose an eye."
I helped A to his feet. "That was reckless," I said sternly, though I couldn't hide the hint of pride in my voice.
A beamed, standing taller.
We cleaned and dressed the boar quickly before moving on.
Our next target was a flock of giselle. They grazed nearby, their small heads darting up and down.
Kell crouched low, laying out the plan.
"Three or four of us will bait them. We'll drive them into the brush where the rest of us will wait. A," he said, looking at my son, "your job is to stay hidden. Watch how we work."
A hesitated but nodded, ducking into the bushes as instructed.
The bait team moved forward, their steps silent as they fanned out. With practiced precision, they drove the giselle toward us. The birds burst into the clearing, flapping wildly. Spears flew, sharp and fast, striking seven instantly. The remaining giselle scattered, but another fell as Kell's spear found its mark.
A watched from the bushes, his fists clenched with excitement. He didn't make a sound, and when the hunt was done, he emerged with wide eyes.
"Did you see that?" he said breathlessly.
"You did well to stay hidden," I said, ruffling his hair.
Kell grinned. "Next time, maybe you'll take a shot."
As we made our way back, the ground trembled beneath our feet.
"Elephant," Kell muttered, pointing to the horizon.
There it was—a massive creature, its silhouette stark against the golden backdrop of the savanna. Its tusks gleamed like ivory swords, and its ears flared as it lumbered forward.
A stared in awe. "Are we going to hunt it?"
Kell and I exchanged glances.
"No," I said finally. "We're going back."
A looked surprised. "Why?"
Kell chuckled. "They're scary to fight."
"But dragons are scarier," A said defiantly.
"Yes," I admitted, "but we've never killed a dragon."