Chapter 47 - Being brash

We travelled quickly to Jagarnit. We stopped to make camp twice on the way and I spent the evenings giving instruction on unarmed and short blade fighting as well as giving lectures on what I could remember from Mongol and Turkish mounted archer strategies. The concept of a feigned retreat was sneered at, at first they felt it was dishonourable and inglorious.

It took a great deal of persuasion to explain how by drawing the enemy out of formation and position, or even just elements of an opposing force, it created the opportunity for even greater glory. My savages were nothing if not glory hounds.

“What’s ahead of us?” asked Kril as we rattled towards the final rise between us and Jagarnit. Glimpse was circling overhead and I was observing the camp ahead of us.

“The cull. They’re still busy processing the meat and hides but they seem to be taking it a lot easier than Areskyn,” I replied. The machine-like bustle of the cull in Areskyn was nowhere in sight. They were almost laconic as they went about the annual ritual.

“They keep a smaller herd,” Kril spat to the side and I dodge the phlegm as the wind pulled it back in my direction. I really must have a word with my tribe about spitting all the damn time. “Having a pet smith they tend towards trade and craft. Most of the warriors here will have bronze weapons, even if it’s just a small knife. They’re rich enough to spend less time herding.”

“So they have more crafters than Areskyn? Leather workers and carpenters?”

“Their women are some of the best weavers in the steppe. They can afford fine linens from the shit-sitters.” Another ball of spit flew past my ear. “Don’t tell Fayala I said that about this lot being better!” He turned to give me a glare.

“So they’d be a good trade partner?” I wondered. My dimensional pocket had been loaded up with Kril’s favourite trade goods: drugs and dyes. He was hoping to make a killing and acquire more metals for Klip, even if Sulk rejected us. I’d also loaded an entire chariot and a bunch of spare parts for the vehicles into the storage space as well as a note from Fayala to Kayla.

“Pah. Can’t trust the bastards. They’ll screw you over any chance they get. They’re fighting mad so don’t be surprised if some hot heads start throwing out challenges to our warriors.” For one of the Areskyn to consider these people unusually belligerent they must be extremely violent. I had no fears for myself or my fangs and Kril was sacrosanct as he was a Dreamer: no one would raise a hand to him. The other warriors could find themselves in trouble though. If they were forced to use their healing trinkets, questions would be raised.

“What if they find out about the magic? The healing trinkets the warriors have?” I asked.

“Best make sure they don’t? At this point, lad, it will only add to your reputation but we’re a small band and all their warriors are here. If they decide to take them from us it would be trouble. Think you can kill a thousand warriors at once?” I suspected with my magic upgrade I could probably do a passable job but I had no wish to find out.

We rattled over the brow of the and Jagarnit was spread out before us at the bottom of a shallow valley. It looked much the same as Areskit or Mondit: a circle of wagons around yurts and an open central area with a wooden palisade and livestock area at the south facing side.

The people were dragging cattle from a shed built just outside the town into the camp proper and processing them under the autumn sun. Rows of hides stretched out on crossed wooden poles were arranged around fires or along the sides of the paths to dry out before being properly cured.

Glimpse was perched atop the culling shed and eavesdropping on the humans below. He seemed to feel condescending towards the lowly earth-bound creatures but his eyes were greedily watching out for any opportunity to swoop down and steal a lump of meat that came away as the bodies were hauled into town. He wasn’t alone, dozens of airborne scavengers were circling around or watching from the peaks of wagons or yurts.

“They’re sending a group to greet us. Pull up here, no point going closer until we’re invited!” I called into Kril’s ear. He began to slow the chariot, the rest of our troop following his lead and we parked the contraptions perpendicular to the approaching horsemen. They’d sent out nearly a hundred riders and as many warriors were following on foot behind them. We were severely outnumbered but we had enough quality to counter their quantity, especially with Kril and my own magic available as fallback options if things went badly.

I hopped down and walked a short distance in front of the rest of our group. Jandak was muttering to himself about damn fool kings but I ignored him as the riders approached. As the Areskyn had done when we arrived back at that camp, the riders spread out to form a partial encirclement and kept thirty metres or so distance between us while they waited for the infantry.

“Hail, Jagarn!” I shouted over at them. “We’re here to trade and speak to Sulk!”

“And who the fuck are you? You look like Areskyn dogs but none of his retainers are with you!” The rider who replied rode forward slightly. They cut their hair differently, leaving the sides and back to grow out but shaving the top of their heads. I assumed it was the coiffeurs that identified us to him.

“I am Mond of the Mondyn tribe. We split the herds with Hakubin!” I called back.

“Never heard of you! An unknown kinglet comes to trade for metal with some stunted wagons? Hah, you’ve got balls at least!” He began muttering to one of his colleagues who wheeled about and galloped back towards the infantry.

“We’ve got rare herbs to trade for bronze but I would also like to speak to your king” I called back. I heard Kril muttering in the background and glanced over at him. He made a variety of facial expressions that suggested I had just put my foot in my mouth. I was winging this whole conversation, having no bloody idea what the protocol was for visiting “royalty” but I thought I’d handled it well enough.

“Do you now? Well I’m sure Jagapan will greet you with happiness! He’ll be here in a minute!” The rider laughed and several of his men chuckled along maliciously. I heard what sounded like Kril face palming and glanced back to find he had indeed covered his eyes with a hand. What the hell had I said wrong?

The infantry contingent arrived and the opposing cavalry contracted to occupy the flanks. The warriors all sprouted the same haircut as the riders and their tunics ran the usual gamut of colours I’d grown used to among my own tribe. They moved apart at the centre and the smallest tribesman I’d ever seen strode through the centre in a purple tunic like a peacock. He held a spear casually over his shoulder.

“I hear you want to speak to me, boy?” he asked as he stopped two metres from me. His right eye was a deep brown but the other was an orb of polished bronze. A deep scar ran down his face across the metallic eye, starting at the top of his forehead and ending at his jaw.

“Jagapan. I am Mond, King of the Mondyn. I’d like to spend a day or two trad-” I began but he snorted and interrupted me.

“Demanding to speak to me? Without even waiting for guest rites? We all know what that means!” He spun in a circle and raised his arms over his head. He slipped the leather sheath off the tip of his bronze spear and reached up to his face as turned back to me. He pulled out his bronze orb and slipped it into a pouch on his belt, leaving me staring at the hole where an eyeball ought to be. “Defend yourself, fool!”

He lunged at me with the spear. He moved faster than anyone I’d seen who wasn’t a soulbound servant. I slapped the spear aside and thrust out a hand to smash into his chest but he somehow pivoted, using the force of my parry to twist his body out the way.

I flashed out a foot to catch his leading leg and swept it from under him. He rolled and flowed back his feet like he was made of rubber and launched another strike at my face with the spear.

“I came to talk, not fight!” I snapped as I blocked once more. I hadn’t bothered carrying a spear, all I had was my Shop bought wedding dagger in my belt.

“You don’t demand to speak to a king, moron! You ask his guards to pass on your greetings and he will see you if he thinks you’re worthy!” A flurry of blows flickered out at me and I leapt backwards to avoid them. He had switched tactics, no longer going for a killing blow but trying to wear me down and make me bleed. It wasn’t going to work out for him.

As he moved in again I caught the spear in my left hand and held it still, he jerked to a stop and tugged before releasing the spear and leaping away to pull out a bronze short sword. I flexed my hand and the spear shaft snapped in my fist.

“I apologise for being brash. I did not know the correct protocol. Can we stop this and talk please?” I asked calmly.

“Breaks my fucking spear and then demands to talk again! Boy, you’re going to die here!” Jagapan snarled as he slid forward, keeping his weight split across both feet, trying to get into range for his blade. I stepped forward into his range and the bronze flicked through the light, aiming to slice into my left arm just below the elbow.

My dagger sliced through his sword, about halfway along, and the tip sailed into my shoulder before it glanced off the god-mark and flew into the long grass. I lifted him up with my free hand by grabbing his tunic and dangled him at arm's length. His legs swung back and forwards for a moment as his remaining eye gleamed almost as brightly as the bronze prosthetic had, then the remains of his sword sliced across my wrist in a lightning fast cut.

I tossed him aside and looked at the thin line of blood. That blow would have removed my hand before I started levelling up. I glared down at him where he had tumbled to a stop in a purple heap and stepped forward.

“Enough! A friendly bout is all this was! Honour has been served!” he called out loudly before continuing much more quietly. “You owe me for the spear and the sword, King Mond.” I paused and nodded, backing off slightly. Jagapan rose to his feet and brushed himself off. He retrieved his bronze eye from his belt and slipped it back into his empty socket, blinking rapidly to settle it in place. Then he gave me a grin that made his scar twist and writhe.

“King Mond, you’re welcome to trade with us and I’d ask you to join me for a meal this evening. You’re not the only visitors we have at the moment and it will be interesting to bring such divergent people together!” He winked his bronze eye at me then spun and walked off, the infantry and cavalry followed bar the rider who had spoken to me before. He trotted over and dismounted to scrabble around in the grass and retrieve the various parts of the king's weapons.

“What the hell is that dagger?” he demanded, then glanced up and hurriedly added, “King Mond.”

“A wedding gift. Where can we camp?” I asked.

“That’s a fine gift indeed. Park your baby wagons to the west of the palisade, then you and five others can come into town.” He glanced over at my men and seemed to be examining them with a hint of fear. “None of those bastards then,” he muttered.

“I’d like to speak to Sulk and Kayla, I’ve got a note from my wife for her,” I said. Kril had hopped down and picked up the sheared off section of sword to pass to the rider.

“Here, boy. Is Jagabant still your Dreamer? I’d have words with him as well,” Kril said in a friendly voice.

“He is. Everyone wants to speak to Sulk whenever they come! If that mad dwarf would stop hoarding his secrets it would give some of the other traders a chance!” muttered the Jagarnyn man. “Thanks. I’m Hastajep, by the way. You’re Hakukril?”

“The one and only!” Kril cackled, pleased by the recognition.

“Hakubin must be pissed that this boy poached you away,” Hastajep said. “Jagabant died a few moons back. Hastakark has replaced him as the Dreamer.” He was clearly proud that his kinsman had become the new spiritual authority for the tribe.

“Then I’ll call on him later. Bant was a good man, his Dreams were often almost as true as my own,” Kril grumbled.

“If you rest your horses over there I’ll let the guards know you can enter freely.” He mounted his pony and charged off after the rest of his party.

We walked our own mounts down to the area we’d been told to use and set up a small camp. Just the simple wigwam tents around a trio of fires, the ponies tied off on the chariots so they could graze without wandering off. Once my tent was up I stepped inside and pulled bags of drugs and dyes out for Kril to trade from my storage space.

“Thanks for the heads up on not asking to speak to the king, bloke!” I complained as Kril stepped into the tent. “How the hell was I to know asking to speak to him would cause so much offence!”

“Pah. It worked out fine in the end. Did you see how he was looking at your dagger? He’s either going to try to buy it off you or steal it. Probably he’ll try to buy it first then try to steal it. Or have us chased down when we leave and take it off your corpse,” Kril cackled as I grinned back at him. I doubted he had enough men to win a fight on the open steppe against our chariots, horse archers and magic.

“I want some etiquette lessons from you in the near future. I’d rather not have to fight every time I meet a new tribal leader!”