Audiobook Version

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The mourning for the dead lasted four days, as was customary for fallen warriors. The Empa Clan was small. So many not returning from a raid affected everyone personally. Wailing was heard from every tent. They would all have to be strong once the four days were over, but for now people stayed in their tents weeping and praying.

Alam's time was spent in the tent he shared with Khalesar, the clan's healer. She was one of the oldest people in the Empa Clan. Her face was lined with deep wrinkles, and lately her shoulders had started to stoop. Despite her advancing years, and a body that was stiff, her mind was still sharp as a knife.

The tent was the only home Alam had ever know. It, like all tents on The Endless Plains, was round with shoulder-height wooden slats to give structure to the walls, and an oval door-flap for entry. Next to the tent's centre pole, their bucket sized cooking stove lay cold with a tidy pile of kindling on one side, and their sole clay cooking pot on the other. Other than the stove, Alam's bed, Khalesar's bed, and two wooden chests, the only furniture in the tent was a small, short legged, square table that Khalesar used to mix herbs.

Alam gazed lazily at bundles of dried herbs that hung on the wooden wall slats next to his head. He lay shirtless on his pallet bed so Khalesar could tend to his wounds.

"Mother," he said to Khalesar who was changing the bandage on his thigh. "I don't think I should be a warrior."

"Really?" She turned her smiling wrinkled face to him. "Why is that?"

"First of all I can hardly stop myself from shaking before battles. Tajar was joking that I looked like I was going to wet myself. I almost did."

"Every warrior feels that way. They simply learn how to hide it," she replied.

"That's what Urlock said, but I'm not sure," he disagreed. "Urlock and Serik are so calm they look like they have just woken from a nap."

"It is called acting, dear."

"Secondly," said Alam, plowing on, "I'm having nightmares. I keep seeing the face of the man I killed in our raid. Even when I am awake I see it happening over and over again. I can't help wondering if someone is mourning him just as we are mourning those he killed from our clan."

She stayed quiet so Alam continued.

"Thirdly, I disobeyed Chief Urlock's instructions twice in two days. The first time my actions cost the lives of some of our clan. I don't know if I will ever be able to look at the faces of the family members of the warriors who died in that first raid. If I had just done what Chief said maybe they would still be alive. The second time I was carried away with the emotion of the battle and ran after that stupid box though he told me not to."

Silence stretched out in front of them. Alam could tell by her expression that she was thinking carefully of a response. Finally she spoke.

"Alam, I am glad you are having nightmares and visions during the day because it means you are still a whole man. When we take a life we also lose some of our own life force. If you did not have regrets about killing there would be something wrong indeed."

"That is what Urlock told me."

"If he says the same as me he must be wise," she joked.

Alam pressed on. "But I have been trained since a child to be a warrior. And that means killing."

"No," she countered, "Being an Empa Clan warrior means protecting those around you."

"And raiding?"

"We place too much importance on raiding," she said dismissively with the wave of her hand. "And anyway, if a raid is done properly no one should die. Having said that, there are times when we have no choice but to take a life."

"Yes?" prompted Alam.

She finished the bandage with a knot.

"When wolves come they take our flock. If we let them they will return again and again until all the animals are dead. We kill the wolf to save the flock. Some people, like that sorcerer you slew, are wolves. When the wolf attacks the flock you kill it, for a wolf will always be a killer."

Alam nodded his head thoughtfully. She pushed herself to her feet with a small grunt and looked down on him.

"But this disobedience is another matter. It worries me. A clan leader can not let it pass. Even one as sensible as Urlock. Tell me, why did you ignore his orders in the valley and rush to attack the sorcerer?"

"Because it didn't seem right to leave a holy man to be killed... And also, when he begged us to help I had a sudden sense he was a good man, and that protecting him was the honorable thing to do. It doesn't make much sense now though."

"And why did you chase after the dargu when Urlock had clearly told you not to?" she asked.

"Because it had the box," he replied.

"So?"

"Well, I guess the fury dominated my reason."

"Were there any other reasons to chase it?"

"Yes," he conceded. "I have had two visions when touching it, but no one else has. I think there is something important about it and I want to know if there is more to it."

She walked over to where the box rested on her herb table.

"Something in my heart tells me you are right," she said picking it up and examining it. "Alam, when you were found as a baby, Chief Urlock was merciful to you by allowing you to live in this clan, and under my tent. It was his right to leave you to die. After all, your darker skin and sharper nose clearly show that you were born different to the rest of the clan. You were probably born somewhere far away from The Endless Plains. Do you know why you were spared?"

"No. Why?"

"Because Urlock is a kind man. And because I begged him to."

This was news to Alam. "Really? Why did you do that?"

"You were so frail and helpless someone needed to protect you. Also, for some reason when he was holding you in the air I suddenly felt that there is something special about you," said Khalesar.

"That's how I feel about that box."

She put the box back on the table.

"Yes, but you are much more useful than a box that doesn't even open. At least you bring me firewood from time to time," she smiled. "Now if you don't mind I would like to discuss something even more important."

"Yes?" asked Alam curiously.

"Marriage."

"Marriage?" Alam sat bolt upright.

"Yes. You have proven yourself in battle. And with so many men not returning from the raid there is a greater responsibility for all healthy men to be married and producing children."

"But I'm not old enough to be a father!"

"Of course you are. If my memory is correct, which it is, you are twenty summers old. You were a very young infant when you were found and this is the twentieth summer you have lived in this tent." Khalesar waved him to silence seeing that he was about to raise an objection. "And we also have the sad problem that many of the women and children do not have men to protect their tent or show their boys how to grow to be men. There will have to be some mercy unions."

"Surely Chief Urlock wouldn't force me to take a wife! I'm too young!" Even as he said it Alam knew that Khalesar was right. Urlock was well in his rights to assign marriages in the best interest of the clan, and he was easily old enough to marry. One of Tajar's cousins was married with two children by the time he was nineteen summers.

"He may have to assign you a wife. Unless you have someone in mind already?" Khalesar's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"No! Well... In truth... I have been thinking a lot about Shaleh lately."

Khalesar's smile dropped.

"What? Is that a bad choice?" asked Alam.

"Not a bad choice but it is an ill fated one."

"Why?"

She lowered herself down to the end of his pallet bed and looked at him sympathetically.

"Because she is the chief's only surviving child, because she is a daughter, and because she is beautiful," she said as if the implications were obvious.

"So?"

"So, there is no chance she will marry for love. Mark my words, she will be intended to marry into another clan so that the peace of Empa Clan is safeguarded. I suspect Urlock will take her to the Clan Meet this year. If I were chief it is what I would do."

Alam felt suddenly sick.

Married into another clan. I would never see her again. Clan Meet is only in one moon.

A tapping sounded on the tent flap.

"Khalesar? May we come in? We bring fresh bandages and water for you." It was the voice of Pim, Urlock's wife. Although clan custom was that people stayed in their tents as much as possible during the days of mourning it was the responsibility of the chief's family to ensure everyone was well.

"Of course, Clan Mother," said Khalesar. She grunted again as she pushed herself to standing and walked to door flap. "You know you are always welcome in our tent," she said as she opened it.

Pim was a graceful woman whom the years had only lightly touched. She was smallish in stature with a round face and the beginning of grey hair and smile wrinkles around her eyes. Alam liked her for her kindness and gentleness. Although she was the most powerful woman in the clan she never forced her will upon others, rather people deferred to her out of well earned respect.

Alam politely rose from his bed as she entered the tent. Behind her Shaleh stepped through the door flap as well. Alam felt his face flush and his heart jump. He looked down at his feet, partly out of respectful deference, but also so Shaleh would not see his red face.

"Greetings Clan Mother. Greetings Shaleh," he said. "It is an honour to welcome you to our tent."

"It is an honour for us to visit such a courageous young warrior," Pim said. "Chief Urlock told me of your heroic deeds."

Heroic deeds?

Alam looked up in confusion. At first he thought that Pim was mocking him for his cowardice but there was no trace of anything but joyful praise on her face. Behind her Shaleh was smiling at him. Her ink-black hair was plaited simply behind her back which showed off her beautiful oval face. A bandage was wound around her neck to help heal the wound she took from the dargu. He turned his eyes back to Pim.

"I did no heroic deeds," he said truthfully.

"Was it three or four dargu you slew?"

"I don't know. The battle fury overcame me."

"It was four," Shaleh said smiling.

"Daughter? Who did you say slew the sorcerer?" Pim asked.

"It was Alam, Mother."

"Khalesar?"

"Yes, Clan Mother?"

"When did you last hear of any clansman slaying one of those blood-hungry, torture-loving, power-crazed sorcerers from Morcham?"

"I have never heard of it in my entire life, Clan Mother."

"Clan Mother," said Alam. "Please stop. Your own daughter is braver than I am."

"Yes," she nodded. "She probably is."

Alam did not know whether to be amused or offended that she was agreeing with him. The three women burst out laughing which added to his confusion and brought the redness back to his face.

"I am sorry Alam," Pim said. "I mean no disrespect."

Alam bowed.

"Khalesar," said Shaleh. "We have brought you some fresh cloth for bandages and a leg of mutton."

"Thank you Shaleh. Thank you Pim. You always know how to lift our spirits. Please sit so we can make you some tea."

"We would like that," Pim said.

"Alam, please stoke the fire," Khalesar said. "And," she added in a whisper, "it is time to put your shirt back on. We do not want our young guest to have to avert her gaze from you all afternoon."

***

Alam was walking in a valley familiar, yet unfamiliar. The quiet solitude held menace, not peace. A bald man with maroon robes stepped out from a cave. Darkness gathered around his hands. Alam charged. A cloud of darkness shot towards him. Time slowed. Alam watched it pass harmlessly over his head. It was as wisps of darkness. Like death made solid and vaporous at the same time. With a slow deliberate movement he struck the man with his axe. Thunk. The axe came out red and wet.

"Why kill me?" the man asked with sad eyes.

"I do not know."

He struck again. Thunk.

"If I die who will care for my family?" he pleaded. It was too late. Alam pulled his axe out of the man's side. He fell. So much red. Spraying everywhere. Covering his clothes, covering his hands. Enough red to cover the valley.

"Alam. Wake up," whispered Khalesar. "It is only a dream."

She gently rocked his shoulders. The tent was black and cool but he was covered in sweat.

"I wish it were only a dream, Mother," he muttered.

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