City of Exiles: Chapter 1

FATHER AND SON

One Year Before The Escape

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As the thick, heavy sword penetrated Gaulator’s ribs, puncturing his lung, he dropped to his knees and experienced a moment of clarity. He saw the future of his nation, his tribe, and his family. Gaulator Stonefist saw the coming war. He saw the deaths of his sons. He saw the dishonor of his people. Gaulator hung his head, his hair dropping to cover his face. The sword slowly pulled out of him and Gaulator felt every inch of it. A spray of blood fanned out onto the man holding the sword, coloring his arm and chest plate. Blood beaded and ran like tears, filling the grooves and nicks of the armor.

Gaulator felt his breath coming in horrible gasps and knew he was dying. The battle had been short; his defeat, complete. The one before him stepped aside and Teklek Black Hand moved to take his place. He touched Gaulator’s chin, lifting the dying man’s gaze until he could see Teklek’s face. Teklek was smiling.

“So, you do remember me then?” Teklek said softly. “Your king chief has destroyed you. And for what? All you had to do was embrace him, accept his leadership, accept me as his…” Teklek chuckled, “…his bastay.”

Gaulator took one deep gasp for breath, forcing his words out in a gust of effort. “His master, you mean.”

Teklek smiled again, a deep smile, accented by the grooves of his face. It seemed to last forever as Gaulator fought for breath. His head was swimming and he was fading fast. His body was draining life quickly.

Gaulator saw a flicker of light behind Teklek and he looked to the crowd there, the crowd watching his death. The people burst into flames. The fire caught, spreading in a ring that engulfed his entire tribe. The people of the village weren’t burning. This fire warmed them. But it was hungry. It moaned as it moved forward, coming toward Teklek. Gaulator saw the flames leap up and devour the man in front of him. Gaulator smiled a strained ragged smile, tainted with the blood in his mouth.

Teklek looked back over his shoulder, his face grave. He grabbed the collar of Gaulator’s cloak, shaking him briskly. “What is it? What do you see?” Teklek’s voice was an urgent whisper. “Tell me what it is or I will make your death linger.” Teklek’s voice was nearly frantic and Gaulator’s smile broadened.

“Fire, Teklek. The Fire, he is coming for you. He is waiting. He has been waiting for a long time.” Gaulator’s field of vision wavered and warped. He felt himself swoon and fall back to the ground hard. Blood sprayed up in a fount and landed back on his face. The sky was darkening with the coming dusk. Gaulator Stonefist closed his eyes and stopped living.

Burle Steeltooth watched with hate in his eyes as his chief died. He felt the weight of responsibility shift over to his shoulders and he shook his head. His fists tensed up and he suddenly could feel the weight of the short-handled axe on his hip. He looked to his sons flanking him. Their faces were grave; their eyes, wide. Hold steady, he thought to himself. Just remain with me.

Burle’s eyes once again shifted to the man beside the new king chief. Tall, thin, with a long face, thin nose. Burle had seen that face before. The man’s black hair was long and limp with white roots. Burle had seen that hair before as well. He knew this man, but could not place him. He looked at the way the man stood, almost mockingly, as if he held disdain for the world around him and all its people. Burle shook his head.

He turned back to the new Ragoth king chief. Kank Brass Shield, a towering giant of a man, with a short, thick sword and an ugly brass shield on his arm. The battered and defeated-looking shield depicted a ram’s head. The iron crown of the Ragoth nation hung at an angle on his heavy brow. Burle shook his head and spat on the ground.

Kank held his head at a slight crook. His eyes were vacant, his mouth open. He stood with his shoulders slumped, his stance open. He turned to his companion with a searching look. The thin man smiled, pulling his wolf skin cowl up around his shoulders to fight the gathering wind. He held out his palm and with his other hand made a chopping motion.

Kank nodded. He dropped to a knee over Gaulator’s body and began to hack it to pieces.

Burle looked to the men surrounding the village—all Brass Shield’s men, his confirming army. Never before had Burle seen a confirming army this big. When the king chiefs of old went around to the tribes as the new ruler, they brought ten, maybe twenty men with them. Burle looked to the two hundred men that made the journey with this new ruler. This is meant to send a message, he thought. This is meant as a warning. If Gaulator had won the battle, would the army have ripped him apart? Burle thought. Yes, they would have fallen on the tribe and ripped it to pieces.

Burle could feel his sons’ eyes fall on him and he gritted his teeth. He shook his head. Anger balled up tight in his belly, a flush rising to his face. The wind pulled at his cloak eagerly. He looked down at his greatest friend, the man who had been his chief for decades, as the new brutish king chief hacked him to jagged pieces. Gaulator had challenged the king chief to a battle for leadership as soon as the man entered the tribal village for his confirming ceremony. It didn’t make sense. Gaulator had no aspirations to be king chief. His friend should have welcomed the new ruler and his bastay into the village. Tonight should have been the night of a great feast. Instead, the village watched as Kank piled up the parts of Gaulator Stonefist.

Burle looked to the members of his tribe, hopelessness on nearly every face. His eyes met with Tarse across the ring. Tarse flexed his fingers again and again around the handle of the spear he rested against. Burle looked to the five sons around Tarse, locked eyes with the warrior and shook his head slowly. Tarse lowered his gaze to the dismembering, and to the new king chief.

With the body hacked into pieces, Kank turned his blood-spattered face to his bastay again. The man smiled, stepping to Kank and patting him on the shoulder. Kank smiled.

“This man,” the bastay said, motioning to the pile of body parts, “was told he had a new king chief and was to embrace him as his ruler to lead the Ragoth nation.” The bastay motioned to Kank and Burle spat on the ground. “And before learning his name, or the details of his battle for leadership, Stonefist challenged him to battle.” The bastay shook his head, and a smile flashed across his face as he looked down at the body at his feet. Burle gritted his teeth and shook his head.

“Now, the new king chief calls him traitor, and marks his body for display. He will not sit at the Warrior’s Circle in the Great Drinking Hall on the other side of this life. He will be carrion for the dogs and the crows. He will lay here on the ground until he is bones. This is the will and command of the new king chief. This is the law. Stonefist is to have no pyre. He is to receive no bread. No weapon is to be given for him to carry over.” The bastay smiled again on the discarded body and turned back to the new king chief.

“Now this tribe is without a chief. We will appoint one.”

“No,” Burle said, stepping forward into the ring. “I will be chief.” He threw back his cloak, displaying his axe.

Kank looked at the man and lifted his shield. With a shrug of Burle’s shoulder, his ancient shield, the Steeltooth, dropped from his shoulder into his hand. Kank stepped forward, and the bastay stopped him.

“Will a warrior accept you as chief?”

“I will defend his claim,” Tarse said, stepping into the ring. “I will call him chief.”

“Very well then, Burle Steeltooth, you are the chief of the Steeltooth tribe. My—the king chief’s command stands. You will not burn the traitor. He stays where he lays. I have eyes watching. I will know if anything is done to soothe the soul of Stonefist.”

“I’m sure you do have eyes watching, Bastay—” Burle stopped, lifting an eyebrow. “Bastay what? What is your name?”

“My name is Teklek Black Hand.” The gathering let out a hushed gasp, shaking their heads. The eyes of the elders stared with shock as their faces dawned realization.

“I thought I recognized you, Teklek. How long has it been, forty years? You look not to have aged a day.” Burle pulled his axe. His hands flexed against the grip of his shield. “You were outlawed. You are a villain.” Kank stepped forward, and Burle’s sons stepped to his sides. The light of the sun glinted off Steeltooth and Teklek looked away as if pained. He placed his hand on Kank’s shoulder, pulling him back. Kank stopped with a grunt.

“I am no villain, Steeltooth. Put away your shield. My father was the Teklek Black Hand you remember. You must have been but a boy.”

Burle nodded.

“He was my father. Like you say, I have not aged a day.”

Burle noted Teklek fumbling with a necklace, a crude wooden carving that Burle could not make out for the distance.

Suddenly, the faces of the elders relaxed. They took on a distracted look and lowered their heads. Burle saw a placid look on his sons’ faces. He looked back to Teklek.

“There is one more thing before we travel to the next tribe. One thing that still must be discussed. Where are the sons of Stonefist?”

Burle saw Tarse look to the road out of the village and hoped Teklek had not seen.

“What business have you with the Stonefist men?” Burle asked.

“They must answer for their father’s treachery. They must be questioned. They must give themselves to the new king chief.”

“They must do no such thing,” Burle said, watching as Teklek’s fingers smoothed the edges of his necklace, as Teklek grew more and more agitated. “The sons of Stonefist are grown men. They are not to answer for the actions of their father. They are no longer his wards. Kaylik disappeared after his manhood ceremony and has not been seen for years. Jordai has been gone for many cycles, and Atikka is out at the hunt, and will be gone for days.” Burle dared not look to Tarse. The rest of the tribe stirred at the lie, but none questioned it.

Teklek stopped his fumblings and looked Burle in the eye with hate plain across his face. He tapped his new king chief on the shoulder and Kank stepped forward. “I am king chief. Bow to me or come to your death.”

Burle watched Teklek as Kank spoke, watching the bastay mouthing the words of the warrior king, fumbling with his necklace. Slowly, Burle lowered himself to the ground, his sons following. Slowly, the entire tribe went to their knees before the new king chief.

Teklek and Kank left the tribe hours later. They did not stay for a feast. They seemed not to desire the company of the Steeltooth tribe. As Teklek and Kank left the village, taking the eastern road down the mountain and toward the Iron Blade tribe, Burle watched as his sons lowered the bell of Stonefist from the village tower and lifted the Steeltooth gong in its place. He looked out to the road to the west and at the bushes outside of town.

Tarse stepped up beside him, looking to the bushes as well. “Do you think he is still out there, my chief?”

“I don’t know,” Burle said. “He should have come to the defense of his father’s body, but we both knew he wouldn’t.”

Tarse spat on the ground. Burle turned away, going to the drinking hall to find the bottom of a barrel. Tarse and the sons of the two warriors followed.

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