Die for the Flame (24 page)

“No. They want the Flame.”

“What is the Flame?”

“The Karran have a white flame that burns without being fed wood or chips. The Karran priests say the Flame speaks to them. The Flame comes when called and can heal and protect. The Maggan claim that long ago, the Flame was taken from them by the Karran, and now they want it back.”

The elders began talking among themselves about this news. Clarian looked at his mother, and she nodded her approval, but her face remained tense. The elders turned to an old man who had been sitting off to the side, and he came forward to consult with Kajmin. He wore a healer’s necklace like Ranna’s, but his fingers were covered in rings with many colored stones, and his wrists were encircled in bands of silver with large stones. Clarian surmised that he was a Kobani priest.

Kajmin turned back to Clarian. “Have you seen this Flame?”

“Yes. Several times.”

“Have you heard the Flame speak?” asked Kajmin.

“No. Only the priests can hear it. But all Karran people believe it speaks. Whoever possesses the Flame holds power, and with the Flame comes the protection of the Immortal Ones, the beings from the Crystal Mountains far to the west beyond the land of the Madasharan.”

“So the war is over this Flame?” asked Kajmin.

“Yes, but also hatred for people who are different,” answered Clarian.

“Then, whoever captures this Flame has great power?”

“Yes. The Flame is used by the priests to heal the sick. And the voice that speaks from the Flame warns or advises the priests. But the Flame will go out if it is used for evil purposes.”

“Would you have us believe the Karran are a good people?” asked Kajmin.

“I do not know the answer to that. I have even met good people among the Maggan. I am only a warrior.”

The old healer whispered to Kajmin, who nodded and spoke. “Your mother said you were the ‘Chosen One’ among the Karran. What does that mean?”

“The Flame spoke to the priests and named me to lead the Karran against the Maggan.”

Kajmin spoke quietly with the old priest and several elders leaning in toward him. He turned back to Clarian. “This war is not our concern. Why do you tell us this?”

“Because the Maggan have already swallowed the Doman people. They have attacked the Karran twice in recent times. If they swallow the Karran, the Karran will try to escape to the Great Grasslands. The Maggan will follow. The Maggan will see these beautiful plains, and they will want your horses and cattle, and they will come in great numbers, and they will swallow you, too. And they may cross the great river and swallow the Madasharan people in the west. All of us—the Karran, Kobani, and Madasharan—will forever disappear, and the night people will walk the land.”

The elders sat motionless, trying to absorb this idea of an invasion by the night people and wondering whether Clarian could be trusted and whether the threat was real. The woman threw more wood on the fire, which popped and cracked. A faint rustling among the crowd was heard, signaling restlessness. Dogs barked on the other side of the camp, and children’s laughter drifted on the air.

“Why should we believe you, Karran dog?” shouted a man standing off to one side.

No one spoke. The taunt hung in the air. Clarian could see the elders carefully assessing him.

He stood up and addressed the crowd. “You speak to the Karran in me, and you are right. The Karran blood does not care if you live or perish. But I am also Kobani. Kobani blood in me speaks out and brings you this warning that a great danger is afoot in the land. Why would my mother and I have traveled so far from our ferry on the great river to inform you if it were not true? But, if you do not believe me, I will leave you as quickly as I came.”

Clarian spun on the balls of his feet, turned his back on the elders, and walked into the seated crowd, picking his way among the people, looking them in the eyes, letting them see close up the features of his mixed blood, his blue eyes, tawny skin, and brown hair. All eyes were riveted on Clarian as he walked among them. Teshni waited for him on the far side, and Ranna circled around the crowd, and together they headed back through the camp to Teshni’s tent. Clarian did not speak on the walk back. He was angry, and both Teshni and Ranna could tell it was not the time for conversation.

Clarian felt he had failed to convince the leaders of the Kobani of the danger of the Maggan. Their suspicious nature toward all things not Kobani and their fierce pride about being able to defeat any enemy made them blind to his message. He would waste no more time on the Kobani.

They walked past families seated by their fires while children chased one another, followed by fat puppies barking, and finally arrived at Teshni’s house.

“Teshni?” spoke Clarian. “Have our horses brought up. We will leave now.”

“The elders will talk all night about what you have said. There is no need to leave so soon. Wait to hear what they have to say.”

“We will leave now.”

Despite Teshni’s entreaties for them to remain in camp, Clarian thanked Teshni and, with a tired Ranna, rode out of camp in the dark. They rode all night at a steady clip without a break and without speaking. By the time the sun had risen in the east, lighting the flat, endless expanse of the Kobani plains, Clarian and Ranna were on a northern heading, urging the horses to cover as much ground as possible.

Ranna was bitterly disappointed that the meeting with the Kobani had not gone well. She had never seen Clarian so angry, but she understood his frustration with the elders and with those who verbally attacked him. She knew well the distrust Kobani people had for outsiders. After all these years, they did not seem to welcome her either, and she was one of them. What of those of her clan who had survived the Grasslander massacre years ago? Now she would never know. She would never see her family. She said nothing to her son. There was no need for words. She was exhausted, but she knew that Clarian wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the unpredictable Kobani.

They came upon a line of willows, signaling water. The horses could smell the water and picked up the pace. It turned out to be a spring that fed a small pond. Clarian pulled the saddles off the two riding horses and the pack off the packhorse. He hobbled them, and when they finished drinking, he rubbed each of them down with dry grasses and then let them graze. He told his mother that they should rest for a few hours. She handed him some dried meat, and then she wrapped herself in a blanket under a tree and fell asleep. Clarian chewed the dried meat, downing it with the cool water, all the while keeping his eyes moving over the landscape on the lookout for unexpected riders. He did not expect to see any riders, but he surmised that they could bump into other Kobani who had not heard of them and might prove hostile.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

T
he sun climbed into a clear sky, bright and warm. The pond attracted several species of birds that alighted on the nearby trees and kept up a constant and spirited chirping. Clarian dozed for a time and awoke when he heard his horse snort. As he scanned the horizon, he saw figures far in the distance coming his way. He could not tell how many or how fast they were coming.

“Mother.”

Ranna stirred and sat up.

“Riders coming.”

She got to her feet and moved toward her horse. Clarian was already carrying the saddles, and he whistled to the horses. Within a few minutes, he had the horses saddled and the packhorse loaded. They led the horses behind a screen of bushes, and Clarian checked his bow and other weapons. There was no place to hide if they left the spring. They would be seen in the open, flat country, so they waited for the riders. After what seemed like a long time, two riders came into view, and they were Kobani. They rode at a lope, and as they approached, one of the riders waved his hand in greeting.

“It’s Teshni,” said Ranna.

Teshni smiled as he rode into their camp and slid wearily off his horse. The other rider was a young Kobani warrior about Clarian’s age, who also dismounted. As true horsemen, they led their horses to water first.

Teshni walked over to Clarian and Ranna, who were waiting curiously. “You traveled a long way in a short time,” Teshni said to both Clarian and Ranna.

Clarian remained silent.

“It is good to see you again, Teshni,” Ranna said.

“It is good to see you, Ranna. And you, Selu. I travel with news. The elders will speak with you and will hear you.”

“I have already spoken to them,” said Clarian, anger barely hiding beneath the surface of his emotions.

“There is more to be said. They will listen now. They want you to tell them more about the night people,” said Teshni.

“They are rude and ill-mannered.”

“They are cautious.”

“They did not welcome my mother and me,” said Clarian.

“That has been decided. You and Ranna will be welcomed. And I have brought someone for you both to meet.”

The young man next to Teshni smiled. “I am Jolsani of the Sheshin clan. Ranna, I am your nephew, son of your sister.” He nodded to Clarian. “Selu, I am your cousin.”

Ranna clasped Jolsani in her arms and hugged him tightly. She looked into his face, trying to see her sister’s features, and when she did, she began weeping. He put his arm around her shoulders and extended a hand to shake with Clarian, who shook his hand but remained stiff. Teshni came over to shake Clarian’s hand too. He could see that Clarian remained cautious and untrusting.

Teshni and Jolsani tended to their horses while Ranna broke out some dried meat and bread for the men to eat. They all sat under a willow tree as Teshni tried to explain to Clarian what had happened.

“The elders talked all night, some arguing that there was no threat from the night people. Others were concerned that if another war started between the Karran and the night people, it could spill out onto the plains. And, yes, some distrusted you because you are half-Kobani and half-Karran. This has never happened before and was not well received by anyone. We have fought the Grasslanders for longer than anyone can remember. Many hate them.”

“Let us not forget the Kobani have killed many Karran in their raids to steal horses and cattle and in their desire to expand into the Great Grasslands. I leave the Kobani to their hate,” said Clarian.

Teshni waved away Clarian’s objections. “The old, holy men want to talk to you, Selu. They say you were sent by the spirits of our ancestors to warn us. They refer to the Book of Shadows, the story of our people, written before memory, which foretells a great struggle coming.”

Ranna pulled on Jolsani’s arm. “What of our clan? Are there many of us left?”

“No, my aunt. Few survived. But they await you eagerly, and Selu too,” said Jolsani. “My mother, your sister, now weeps for joy at your return.”

Tears flooded Ranna’s eyes as she again clasped her arms around Jolsani.

“Selu,” said Teshni. “You must come back. Kajmin said he couldn’t assure you that all will accept your counsel, but they will listen. He has ordered that you will be made welcome, and no one will be permitted to harm you or your mother.”

Clarian looked over at his mother, her face expectant, wanting to go back to the Kobani camp, wanting to see her relatives. He knew he had to go back.

Teshni laughed. “They were shocked when I told them you had left in the night, riding out fast for the north. They could not believe it. I think it changed how they viewed your visit.”

Clarian, Ranna, Teshni, and Jolsani rested until evening and then saddled up for the long ride back to the encampment. As they rode through the darkness of the night, a slice of moon rose, throwing silver across the land. Clarian was still angry at the reception he and his mother had originally received by the tribe, but based on what Teshni said, he was willing to try again to convince his mother’s people that the Maggan threat was real. Maybe peace could be achieved between the Karran and the Kobani that would last for all time. He realized that although for this trip, he had worn his hair in the Kobani style, had worn Kobani clothing, and had spoken the language, in his heart he was more like his Karran father. Where the stubbornness came from, he did not know.

It took two days to return to the Kobani camp on their tired horses. Jolsani took Ranna and Clarian to an area of the encampment where the Sheshin clan had pitched their great skin houses. There, Ranna and Clarian were welcomed as family, which indeed they were. Ranna’s sister had survived the Karran attack of long ago, as had several aunts, uncles, and a number of cousins, although most of the cousins had been born later. None who were survivors would ever forget that terrible day when the Grasslanders, on galloping horses, charged over the hill and into the camp, killing and burning.

The children of the clan were taken with Clarian, and little ones would touch his brown hair and fair skin and gaze into his blue eyes with wonder. In the evening, around the fire outside the tents, Clarian told stories of life at the ferry and of the Karran, Maggan, and Madasharan people. He would not talk about the war when the children were present, but when they were hurried off to sleep, he answered questions from the adults, though they were careful not to press too much for information.

The women wanted to know about the life of Karran women, and Ranna explained her life in detail and talked about Clarian’s aunt Helan. They were amazed that Ranna had been able to make the transition from a nomadic woman to one who lived in a house with Karran people, including a Karran husband. But she eloquently described how she had been rescued by Clarian’s father on the battlefield, how she had known him for years as a little girl, when he, as a boy, had come with his father to trade at her village. How Orlan had, each year, given her a gift, and she pointed to the gold beads now woven into her hair as some of the gifts given so many years ago. She explained that Orlan had transported her in a wagon back to his home at the ferry, and there had nursed her back to health. Smiling shyly, she admitted that after a while, she did not look upon him as a Karran but only a young man who loved her, and as he told her, he had loved her for years beginning when they were growing up. The women giggled and laughed and clapped their hands, nodding their appreciation of a fine romantic story.

On the third day following Ranna and Clarian’s return to the Kobani camp, the holy men summoned Clarian to a large tent. Inside the tent sat perhaps thirty or so older, gray-bearded men robed in various colors, their necks encircled with silver chains encrusted with colored stones. Clarian was invited to sit on a stool across from the old holy man he had seen the night he had spoken to the elders and to Kajmin. In front of the holy man was a low, wooden desk, and on it sat a large, leather-bound book.

“My name is Nashola. I am the head priest of our people. These men are the priests of the clans that are gathered here at this camp. We have questions, Selu.”

“I will answer your questions, Nashola,” said Clarian.

“Good. Your mother said the Karran priests called you the ‘Chosen One.’ What does that mean?”

“The Karran have a chief priest called the Flamekeeper. He said the white fire spoke to him and that ‘the ferryman’ would lead the Karran against the invading Maggan and save the people. I am a ferryman, as my father was before me. They believed it was me the fire spoke of.”

Another holy man spoke up. “What is this white fire?”

“It comes from a great white crystal stone kept by the one called the Flamekeeper. It speaks to him. The Karran people believe in its power. The Madasharan people are our cousins, and they have the white fire also.”

“Have you seen this fire yourself?”

“Yes. It is a great thing.”

“Where does this power come from?” asked another.

“I do not know where it comes from. I was told it was given to the Karran by the Immortal Ones who dwell in the Crystal Mountains to the west of Madasharan,” said Clarian. “That is what the Karran believe.”

The tent was filled with the buzz of soft conversation as the holy men talked among themselves over this news. Finally Nashola cleared his throat and spoke. “Who are these Immortal Ones you speak of?”

“Guardians. Beings who do not die. Who can appear and disappear at will.”

“You have seen these beings, Selu?” asked Nashola.

“I have seen one of them. Once, when I was a child.”

There was more talking among the holy men. One of them said loudly, “These are our shadow ancestors!”

“Maybe they are Karran ancestors!” said a thin old man.

“What language did they speak, Selu?”

“Karran. And Kobani.”

“Are they Karran spirit beings or Kobani?”

The discussion and arguing over the meaning of Clarian’s words went on for hours. They asked questions about Karran beliefs and about the war with the Maggan. Drinks and plates of bread and cooked meat were served.

Nashola turned to Clarian, his hand on the large, leather-bound book, and said, “There is a passage in our great book that speaks to a time when great danger will approach our people. We had always thought that meant the Karran. We thought we were living in that time.”

“There was never a messenger!” said a thin priest. “No messenger ever came. It speaks of a messenger.”

“But there is more to the passage, Nashola,” said one who was very old and frail.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Nashola waved his hand impatiently. “It says a messenger will be sent by the Shadow Ancestors to warn the people of the impending danger, a dark flood that threatens to overwhelm the people. The messenger will be of the people, but he will come from another land. All the peoples in all the lands everywhere will assemble. He will lead our people against the invaders.”

All within the tent now sat silent, thinking about this and staring at Clarian. Sounds outside the tent sifted through the walls: a horse riding by, a mother calling for her child, dogs barking.

“Are you the messenger the Book of Shadows speaks of, Selu?” asked Nashola.

“I do not know.”

“You wear a violet stone about your neck.”

“My mother said an Immortal One came to our house when I was very small and gave it to her for me to wear. It is a talisman that casts a protective light around me. That is what I have been told.”

Nashola waved him away. “We will talk more, Selu. You may go for now.”

Kajmin and his commanders and the elders were gathered under a clump of trees as the sun passed its zenith. Clarian guessed a hundred men and a smaller number of women were there, some seated on stools, some on skins on the ground, and others standing. A large map, which Clarian had drawn on a big animal hide, hung from a tree. The map depicted all the lands and all the peoples known to him.

“There are other peoples south of here and far to the southwest, not known to you, Selu,” said Kajmin. “The plains extend farther than any of us have ever ridden. We would like to ride farther, but these people know how to fight.”

Laughter broke out among the warriors.

“Why did the Kobani push into the Great Grasslands? Why not expand to the south?” asked Clarian.

“The grass was better in the Grasslands, and there was more water, and we thought the Karran were fewer in number and would be more easily defeated,” Kajmin said with a shrug. “And then the hatred came.”

Clarian pointed to the Forest of Darkness. “The Maggan are not a horse people. They have some horses, and they use wagons, but they travel slowly. They like to fight with the sword or lance. They have some archers and some mounted soldiers. But they come in large numbers.”

A tall commander raised his hand. “How did you fight them?”

“I fought them as the Kobani would. From the back of a horse using the bow. I never liked walking,” said Clarian.

The group laughed again, becoming more at ease with Clarian’s presence.

“If the night people come out of this forest, when would that be?” asked Kajmin.

“My guess is the spring or summer after next. They have a cousin tribe, I am told, far beyond their forest to the northeast, here where I have marked it on the map.” He pointed to a corner of the map. “I think they will seek help to strengthen their army and that will take time. They will need more horses and wagons, as well as weapons. And they will have to train new soldiers.”

“And if the night people defeat the Karran, how long before they could attack us?” asked a young commander.

“No one knows. If the Karran try to escape to the Grasslands, the Maggan will follow. Then they will discover you.”

Kajmin ordered riders out to all the corners of the plains for all the Kobani clans to send their leaders to a meeting to discuss the news Clarian had brought. In the days that followed, Clarian took up residence with his cousin, Jolsani, in a large bachelor’s house surrounded by the Sheshin clan tents. The clan was small, with only a dozen families. In the evening, the clan would gather around the outdoor cooking fires, sitting on their stools or on skins on the ground, eating and talking.