C9 Chapter 9

”Thanks, Gao,” Brenn said, though he wasn't hungry. He reached back for his sword. His hands needed something to do. He took his whetstone, spit on it, and ran it down the mirrored diamond-strong razor's edge. A faint high pitch, like bells, sang from the blade.

Footsteps approached from the side, and Brenn looked up to see Limbaco. His left arm was in a sling with a large bandage on his shoulder. With his right hand, Limbaco carried a bowl of rice, beans, and pork.

”What are you two lovers doing, sitting in the dirt all alone?” Limbaco was as Menegislan as they came, small and brown with tight muscles and wide dark eyes. He took a cross-legged seat beside Dayl and ate with his fingers.

With Limbaco came Tapoa, his cousin and near double in appearance; and Tlamuq as well, the largest of the dagak'hotl, larger even than Brenn. He was copper-skinned with long black hair that he kept braided in a single thick tail that stretched almost to his thighs. His face was stern and hard, forged that way in a land of almost-always-frozen and then as a slave for ten years to a master who didn't like to spare the rod. The five men now sat in their own small circle outside the tent.

”Xaanaa yak' ei i-hunxw,” Brenn said to Tlamuq. Good evening, brother.

Tlamuq gave a stoic nod and replied in his best Ekkioska: ”Nüm dheküt, ehü.”

Brenn smiled. ”Your accent is getting better.”

”And I can almost understand what you're saying,” Tlamuq said, his hard face almost betraying a friendly smile.

”Can we please speak Menegisla?” Tapoa asked, his mouth filled with dinner. He leaned on an elbow and ate with his free hand. ”I don't understand a single syllable of that lost tribe language.”

”You shared a cabin for eight years and never bothered to learn,” said Brenn. ”Don't complain if you won't make an effort to adapt. You could learn, Tap. Maybe. It's the hardest human language I've ever learned, that's for sure.”

Tapoa and Limbaco both laughed, and rice flew from Tapoa's mouth.

”The Holder of Languages says it's the hardest language to learn,” Limbaco said. ”You've convinced me. How do we begin?”

”You know,” Dayl said, ”your language isn't all rosewater and honey, either.”

”Says the Sawelan,” Tapoa said, then began speaking in a sort of mock-Sawela. ”Mo to bu ba de su ne mo... Now that's the easiest language in the world.”

”Sawela sounds nothing like that.” Dayl sat up and rolled his shoulders as he relieved his arms from the weight of himself. ”Sawela is useful in the world. Almost everyone in Methyo Genlas speaks it.”

”Well, this isn't Methyo Genlas, bong-mai,” Tapoa said. ”Here they all speak as if sand was stuck in their throats. Khuh-khuh-khuh.” He and Limbaco laughed together.

When their laughter died down, the group fell into an awkward quiet. The only sound was Brenn running the whetstone across his sword and the strange hum that issued in return. The five of them stared into the fire and listened to the soft crackling of the wood for several minutes. After such a day, it was necessary to lighten the mood with a playful conversation. But after that, it seemed disrespectful to the fallen not to be reverent for the rest of the night.

”Where are the others?” Brenn asked. ”I didn't see anyone else eat. Not even Gao.” He turned his head left and right. ”Where'd he go, anyway?”

Limbaco said, ”They're all asleep. Gao made this pot for us.”

Brenn felt a tang of guilt for not eating after learning this, but he couldn't eat after the day's events. He put away the whetstone and slid the sword back into its scabbard.

”I guess you all want to know what was said.”

Limbaco and Tapoa sighed loudly.

”It's been driving me insane,” Tapoa said. ”We've been waiting all night for you to bring it up.”

Brenn related to them what Ulfhrem had said, and what had resulted from the argument. Whether because of Ulfhrem's command or his own choice, Brenn would not be fighting for the foreseeable future.

”Why?” Tlamuq asked in his voice as deep as a snow-covered river basin.

”I'm too much of a liability,” Brenn said. ”It's a huge risk having me fight, risking my life. We all know that. We all know what would happen if I died.”

”But, you have that.” Tapoa pointed to the sword. ”Doesn't that count for something?”

Brenn rolled his shoulder and winced, then placed a hand on his bandaged arm. ”You don't understand, Tap. None of you do, and it isn't your fault. No mortal person is supposed to have what I have, and if I can keep from using it, then I will, for as long as possible.” He looked up at the waxing moon. ”Odlik willing, that need will never come.”

”Odlik didn't give you that sword,” said Dayl. ”And I think the one who did knows you're going to survive this war.”

Brenn shook his head. ”The way he described the flow of time to me...he said it was riddled with branches and tributaries, and even he didn't know which one I would end up in. Nothing is certain.”

”Excuse me.” Limbaco held up a hand. ”What's the point of being here if you aren't going to fight? We all came for you, Brenn. This isn't our war. The prophet hasn't done anything to us. We're here to honor the friendship between us and to pay our debt to you. Why would we fight if you won't?”

Brenn nodded at him. ”Of course. None of you have to continue fighting if you don't want to. You've sworn no oath to Ulfhrem, and you have no quarrel with the people of Kammun.” He paused a moment. ”Go home if you want.”

Tlamuq shook his head and waved a hand as he spoke. ”I came here because I know of bondage. I will not stop until all of Lesh Kalae knows freedom. I did not come for you only, but to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.”

Brenn smiled at Tlamuq. ”Gunalcheesh i-Tlamuq.”

”Damn,” Limbaco said. He looked at his cousin. ”The big man has a point. If anyone knows what these people are going through, it's us.”

Tapoa scratched his head and then stood, brushing the sand from his pants. ”This isn't the kind of thing I can process right now. I'm going to bed, and we'll talk more about this tomorrow.” He disappeared into the tent behind them.

Limbaco stood as well. ”None of us are fighting tomorrow, anyway, that's for sure. I'll see you in the morning. Or maybe in the afternoon. Or evening, hell, I don't know. Don't wake me up.” He followed his cousin.

Brenn looked from Dayl to Tlamuq. ”I've never told you how much I appreciate your friendship. Thank you for being here with me.”

Tlamuq stood and made a slashing gesture with his hand. ”Please get some rest, Brenn.” He retreated into the tent.

Dayl yawned and stretched. ”Well, I think I'll turn in as well. I'm exhausted after a long day of being a coward.” He stood to enter the tent, but Brenn stopped him.

”Hey.”

Dayl turned. Brenn grasped his arm.

”Don't beat yourself for not wanting to fight,” Brenn said. ”Only stupid people are brave all the time.”

Dayl let out a small chuckle through his nose. ”Thanks. Maybe I should get a cool nickname like you. What animal is known for being brave?”

”I'm not sure. A lion, maybe?”

Dayl chuckled and said, ”Dayl, the Lion. That'll be the day. Goodnight.”

Brenn brought his knees up and wrapped his arms over them. His arm was sore, but wouldn't be a bother by morning. He'd always had a high tolerance for pain, which he was thankful for, even though he also complained internally that his days of healing fatal wounds in mere hours were behind him. Most of his best days were behind him now.

To the south were steep rocky hills that he was well familiar with. As he stared at their purple shapes that stood against the starry sky beyond, his mind drifted through memories that he hadn't touched in half a decade.

It had been September when he stayed in those hills. He wasn't sure how many years ago it was. Five? Six? He hadn't known what year it was then, and he didn't know how much time had passed since. Brenn and Keren had stayed in those hills outside a village called Liman, sleeping beneath an outcrop of rock that looked over the desert. Keren was still limping from the incident in Kammun, her bottom lip split, and both eyes blackened, and they had to wait until she was well enough to travel.

Beside their shelter was a dry riverbed that would flow with clear water in the winter, filling the reservoir in Badr'Amir, but in September, there were only bare rocks. Soldiers sometimes passed by and ignored the two travelers, raising dust that filled the air and made it difficult to see and to breathe for a while. After the soldiers moved on, the rocks in the riverbed were covered with a soft layer of dust.

The desert was tan and flat, and walled Kammun was a strange abnormality in the uniform desert, a blemish if it weren't so beautiful in an odd and ancient way. There was fighting outside the city during the day, and the two of them could hear the crash of catapults and sometimes the clang of swords if the air was still enough. The nights were chilly, and Keren slept up against Brenn to keep warm.

Sometimes in the early mornings, the soldiers would drive their supply carts by. There were many foot soldiers, and their officers rode atop camels or horses—Kalaean horses with short necks and broad hooves. Other camels and donkeys carried food and water. Supply carts carried clothing and weaponry, pulled by animals or men. Twice they saw teams of twelve horses pull catapults down the desert road to the fighting near Kammun. They passed slowly, the wheels on the catapults creaking loudly.

Once a day, the fighting would pause, and from their place in the hills, Brenn and Keren heard the soldiers pray together. One side prayed to God, and the other side prayed to their nameless prophet. Many had died in the prophet's civil war. The survivors on both sides and the civilians all over the country prayed for the dying to end.

At the end of the month, Brenn and Keren decided they had seen enough of the fighting, and Keren felt well enough to travel. They went east on the desert road. There was nothing west but more war, whether in Lesh Kalae or Weroklas beyond.

Three thousand soldiers had died during their brief stay, and many more would die before this war was over.

After the battle, the dogs and vultures came and the survivors were too exhausted to stop them. Most of the dead had been retrieved and brought back to camp, but a few dozen remained in the sandy field outside the small village. It was dark now, and the stars shone brightly above the desert with the filling moon. The soldiers sat around their little fires in groups of five or six and prepared small meals with the food they had taken that day. They were covered in dirt, sand, and blood, but their minds weren't on bathing. Tents and cook fires spread across the desert for more than five miles south to north, making a snake of orange dots along the edge of Badr'Amir. The desert was quiet as the soldiers mourned their fallen brothers without words, and the only sounds were those of crackling fires and the pop of grease as pork and goat meat cooked on spits. To the north, vultures squawked, and the desert dogs yipped and howled as they fought over choice parts.