Chapter 61 - Fine then. Fists!

Seen from above, the festival site lacked something. It was impressive in scope, don’t get me wrong, but it just looked like a low hill surrounded by concentric rings of upright stones. However as we got closer and I saw it with my own eyes, the scale of the construction stole my breath.

The barrow loomed in the distance, far more imposing from ground level than it had been when seen through Glimpse's eyes. The first ring of stone pillars were spaced fifty metres apart and stretched dozens of kilometres in circumference around the artificial hill at the centre. Each one was elaborately carved with geometric shapes and animal designs. Horses ran beneath birds and raised spots on the stone above them showed the stellar configuration each beast was linked to.

All of this was fitted into what looked like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to the surrounding hills, carving out a sheltered expanse surrounded by hills on three sides. On three sides, maybe twenty miles from the barrow, steep, heavily forested hills rose up and misty clouds clung to their seemingly barren tops. Whatever geological forces had shaped this place had done an impressive job.

About five hundred metres closer to the barrow was another ring of cruder, older and more heavily weathered megaliths but the carvings were still clear and distinct enough to make out details. This ring showed human figures fighting fantastical battles against giant beasts and what could only be Ur-Viles. The next ring was even older and was covered in something I took to be a script of some kind. Angular lines arranged in pictograms that were clearly some form of writing. I doubted there was anyone alive who could decipher them, except perhaps for Patricia, wherever she had ended up.

We had chosen to arrive fashionably late at Kril’s insistence; the other tribes had already set up their camps within the innermost circle of monoliths. Hundreds of wagons and thousands of warriors were moving back and forth between the camps, ostensibly for trade and to arrange marriages but mostly so they could boast and challenge each other to mock fights. Sometimes tempers flared and still smouldering pyres marked where the losers had been burned but it was considered shameful to sully the sacred site with bloodshed.

The warm spring rains had come and gone. Enough time had passed for the ground to dry sufficiently for the wagons to not get bogged down behind the aurox and the tribes had come together for the Hellath festival. The spring equinox was tomorrow night and the next day would be the final celebration before the nomads dispersed and prepared to move to their summer pastures.

We’d travelled light. No wagons to haul our goods and accommodation. With storage rings we didn’t need them. In contravention of tradition Fay had accompanied us as well, riding in a chariot pulled by a pair of white ponies and driven by her brother Kos. As we arrived at a free space I sent Glimpse out to investigate the nearest camps first then he was to move outwards and lurk on the roofs of the chief's yurts to gather intelligence.

Our arrival wasn’t unnoticed and the sight of my wife pulling disassembled yurts and stored food from thin air caught the eyes of the nearest camps that were perhaps fifty metres from our little circle. The warriors began hammering in a palisade and linking the poles with strands of iron lined with twisted knots of metal. Barb wire was a bitch and I was happy to have it on hand to deal with any overly nosy neighbours. Packs of dogs had run alongside the chariots as we travelled and their handlers set about tying them to the circle of chariots we made instead of the wagons the other tribes had brought along.

As our goods and supplies appeared as if from nowhere, the warriors who’d come to investigate our late arrival hurried off back to their own camps after a few perfunctory greetings to establish which tribe we were. The conversations I was overhearing via Glimpse made me smirk. Shock and fear, not quite as good as shock and awe but close enough, ran through the nearby camps.

“It won’t be long,” Kril muttered as he bounced from foot to foot next to my chair. We’d set up a pit and a pre-butchered aurox that had been kept in storage was now slowly turning on the spit. Dogs barked and horses whickered in the distance as our warriors settled down to gamble and challenge each other to tests of strength.

“The first lot are setting off now. Hair like a Mohican?” I asked.

“A what?” he snapped, narrowing his eyes at me and going still.

“Shaved at the sides but long on top and greased into a ridge along the skull,” I clarified.

“The Fawepyn. Good folks. They were constantly at war with the Kopregyn,” Kril replied thoughtfully.

“Bunch of assholes!” grumbled Jagapan from his own chair to my side.

“Panny! They’re honest travellers!” snapped Habene from behind her gauzy facemask. She stood behind Jagapan and rested a hand on the back of his “throne”.

“Most honest travellers are assholes." He shrugged in reply. "At least we’re free from the smiths bickering, eh? They were becoming insufferable!” Jagapan finished, pulling out his new steel grey prosthetic eye and swishing it round in his mouth before shoving it back into the empty socket. He tossed the old brass one up and down in his free hand as though he needed a spare close at hand.

“Lord Jagapan!” called a bull of a man sporting a greasy looking mohawk as he pushed his way through the crowd. “Where are your wagons? Surely you aren’t so beggared by the shit-sitter raids that you lost them all?”

“Calpakter! You old rascal! Of course not; King Mond and I have found a better way! Come join us! Wife, please fetch a stool for our noble friend!” Jagapan sounded sincere but I’d taken an immediate dislike to this beady eyed nomad. He was assessing and weighing everything around him with each swivel of his eyes.

“No need! I’m here to offer a friendly challenge to your friend Mond. An unarmed fight to see who's the superior warrior! Will you face me, ‘King’ Mond?” he asked. I stood up and moved past the fire to face him in the space my snickering warriors quickly cleared. Bets were called back and forth. Calpakter scowled as he realised that all the betting was on how many moves I’d need to win. When he realised they were betting with slices of worked ivory, which had become something of a currency since my trip up north, his eyebrows lowered even further.

“So you’re the outsider that split the Areskyn. Hakubin isn’t very happy with you,” he chuckled as he offered me his wrist for the traditional greeting. As my hand closed on his forearm he tried to yank me off my feet, throwing his weight down and left to roll me over his right shoulder as he ducked low. I may or may not have increased my weight by thirty percent just as he touched me.

He skidded round and ended up hanging from my arm in a tangle at my feet. I pivoted and tossed him six feet through the air so he tumbled across the dirt but he sprang back to his feet immediately.

“Huh.” Ivory chits were being passed back and forth and my warriors were laughing at his expense. The gentle mockery clearly got to him and his ears suffused with blood, turning them bright red.

“Easy, chief Calpakter! You walk into my camp and challenge me? Would you have gone easy on me if I’d done the same?” He was a hothead. Not suitable for significant command but perhaps a good leader for a small squadron. As long as I didn’t care if they charged to their deaths or not. I probably wouldn't care about that.

When had I begun assessing the other tribal leaders in terms of command potential? Jagapan was a canny old bastard; his reputation was largely a lie that masked a calculating mind and he had joined Khan and Atas as members of my close council. This new king? He might be good on the frontlines.

“I suppose not,” he spat. “Fine then. Fists!” He advanced on me as I carefully held back an inappropriate retort. I stood still and swatted his hands away as they crawled towards me. I’d been sparring with the Fangs a lot recently. Fay and Kril had focussed their stat points into mental statistics but my Fangs had gone almost entirely into Body stats.

They weren’t a match for an Ur-Vile one on one but they would be soon and if they worked together they could handle a giant safely enough. Perhaps I was doing them a disservice? If they used their albeit limited magic they might well be able to take one of the creatures singlehanded.

I stopped using both hands and just batted away his attacks with my left. He was strong, fast and experienced but he was only a man. As I thought it, I froze and nearly missed a block. How far had my new powers changed me that I’d think that so casually? He tried to exploit my momentary slip but I punched out with my right hand to strike him in his chest and sent him tumbling away from me. A roar went up from the watching warriors and Calpakter rose to his feet and straightened his now horizontal mane of hair with both hands, putting it back to it's proper form.

“Mond. Well fought,” he said with a nod of his head. “Perhaps you have some food and drink seeing as I don’t see a fight getting us anywhere further?” He smirked and I noticed his front teeth were filed into points.

“Please,” I gestured to the stool that had been brought out for him as slaves carried platters of sliced meat and a pot of yalk for my guest.

“Hakubin’s out for your blood, both of you,” Calpakter muttered around a mouthful of meat. He took a long swig of fermented milk and ran his sleeve across his mouth. “Don’t suppose it will make much difference, all this metal! What do you want in trade?”

“The steel is only for allies,” said Fay from where she stood behind me. Her hand rested briefly on my shoulder and I turned to look up but those hazel eyes were fixed on the neutral chief.

“Bringing women is a bad business, Jagapan,” Calpakter grumbled. “Not a fit place for them. The Hellathmoot is tonight, are you going to spit on all traditions and have them join the chiefs and Dreamers at the Circle?”

“No. But there was no reason for them not to come this far,” I replied. “A man is always happiest when he knows his wife is safe.” I couldn’t conceal the threat in my voice. Any move against my people while I was at this bloody chinwag of chiefs would be met with what I could only describe as ultra-violence.

“Shouldn’t be here then. You’ve got enemies. Aside from Hakubin there’s half a dozen kings looking to tarnish your crown, Mond.”

“We don’t wear crowns. Mond is more of a first among equals,” said Jagapan sharply. Calpakter glanced up and smirked then nodded.

“A fine way to be as long as no decisions need to be made in a hurry. I’m interested in trade. Aresk only knows how you’ve got so much metal! Sulk couldn’t have done it all by himself but I won’t press. While I’m interested in trading, some of the others are more interested in taking. A friendly warning I trust you’ll remember in the future?” he cocked an eyebrow at me and his mohawk sagged slightly to one side.

“Thanks, bloke. I think anyone who tries anything against us won't live to regret it but thank you for the heads up.”

We talked a little more, it mostly involved Calpakter trying to figure out how much steel we had to trade and if any of our warriors would be interested in marrying his daughters. He headed off back to his camp a mixture of hope and disappointment. Various members of other tribes had approached and spoken to our warriors but no other chieftain had come to visit us. As word got around I was expecting more but that would have to be for tomorrow.

“It’s time,” cackled Kril as the sun began to fade behind the barrow that loomed over us. Jagapan and I said goodbye to our wives and set off with the Kril and the Jagarnyn Dreamer to make our way to the Giants Stairs. Massive slabs of stone had been laid on their sides to form a series of steps that wound around the hill to the summit.

Kril and Hastakark, the Jagarnyn Dreamer, began an atonal hum as we reached the first step. It was a four foot difference in height. Kril and I leapt effortlessly up but the others had to clamber over the lip. Each of the stairs was intricately carved with wavy lines that ended in something that resembled an open Pacman mouth.

“Are these snakes?” I asked, pointing at the engravings.

“Shh! And yes! Don’t speak until we reach the summit!” hissed Jagapan as the two Dreamers ignored me, bar Kril shooting me an angry look.

As we headed up the stairs I would offer a hand to Hastakark and Jagapan to haul them up to the next six foot wide step all while trying to ignore the gradually increasing buzz of the Dreamers humming. Dozens of chiefs and dreamers were on the stairway and by some freak of acoustics the wordless drone seemed to echo back and forth to fill the air all around us.

When we reached the top we found a dozen old men, waiting for us. They pointed without words and directed the leaders of the nomads to spread out into a circle around some ancient standing stones. These stones were far more ancient and withered than even the inner circle below. I couldn’t make any sense of the markings beyond that they had once been carefully carved and they must have been standing atop this artificial hill for so long that mother nature had robbed them of any intelligible designs.

“Another cycle has passed,” intoned an ancient relic of a man, his once thick beard faded to wisps of its former glory. “As the stars wheel above us, so we come back to this ancient wheel built by our ancestors to witness the setting of the final winter sun. Tomorrow is the start of the true spring and a new year for the Sykareskyn.” He intoned his words slowly, as though he’d said them a hundred times before and judging from his appearance it might not be far short of that number. The Dreamers' atonal hum that had accompanied us up the stairs, which reminded me of Sami nomads from Earth, had built into a crescendo once we reached the top suddenly died down as the sun finally set and a beam of light passed between the two tallest uprights of the henge atop the barrow and illuminated a flat horizontal stone low to the ground.

A gemstone of some sort had been set on the altar and as the last beam of winter light struck, it was refracted and cast across all the other uprights of the stone circle. For a moment it was like a primitive disco ball had been lit at the gathering.

“There’s an outsider among us,” called a voice I didn't recognise. “The time of the ceremony is over, arch-priests.” I watched from the corner of my eye as he bowed his head respectfully to the old men who’d overseen the ritual. “Now we need to talk as kings. Mond is unworthy of the honour of being present and should leave.”

“Will anyone vouch for the new lord?” asked the head druid.

“Aye. I will,” called Jagapan.

“Me also.” Calpakter added.

“He has two chiefs who vouch for him. He can stay,” shrugged the old man.

“Hatletek it isn’t right! He’s brought ruin down on the winter pastures! Korteklith, Namatgur, mighty Boretnil, you’ve all been raided by the minions of Urkash this winter! Fell magic has ravaged our warriors. Not all of us could flee north like whipped dogs." This voice was familiar. Hakubin shot an angry glare at Jagapan who removed his eyeball to suck it clean.

“So your misfortune is our fault?” I asked, staring blankly ahead and not even bothering to look at him..

“It is when Urkash wants your head! Whatever you did to earn his ire…” I phased out the rest of Hakubins rant as Glimpse called for my attention.

Shadowy figures were creeping through the dusk light towards my camp. Dozens, no hundreds of grey painted warriors were moving slowly to encircle my people. I looked at Hakubin and narrowed my eyes as I saw the red letters floating over his head. Should have looked for that shit earlier, damn it!

“Kril, kill Hakubin, he’s working for the enemy. I’ll go deal with his troops attacking our camp,” I snarled at my mentor as I took off towards the edge of the plateau. I wasn’t going to bother with the winding stairway this time. I reached the lip of the almost sheer drop and cast Enhancement before reducing my weight by thirty percent. I shot into the air leaving the ground behind me and began to fall down the sloping side of the half a kilometre tall barrow.

As my legs windmilled beneath me I quietly regretted this particular decision but as the shadowy warriors rose to their feet and hurled small objects into my camp I grimaced at how slow gravity’s acceleration was.

Where the thrown objects landed, walls of orange leapt up and wound through the yurts of my people. Horses screamed and men bellowed in pain as they rushed to counter the attack. I bounced off the slope fifty metres from where I'd started and launched myself faster and further this time. Two more jumps and I’d be on the flat.

Not all of the attackers had thrown things at my people before rushing forwards to enter melee, a decision those unlucky individuals would quickly and briefly come to regret as my warriors began to put them down with inhuman grace. Some of the invaders had stayed well back and waved their hands to cast their spells. My eyes narrowed and I headed towards the group of fifty or so wizards. I would kill this lot and then punish whichever tribes had betrayed their brothers to Mortimer.