The Chivan way of life comes to its end

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Disclaimer:

The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2015 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.

It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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Callus picked up one foot and drove it forward yet again. His eyes were grainy, strained and one was twitching. He was footsore, armsore, legsore and even necksore.

He knew that he had to keep walking for another campana, and then it would be his turn to ride on one of the three wagons he was ‘escorting’.

Every day since leaving the valley that led up to Saxum Nigra, he had had at least one, sometimes even four, bouts, each being of some sort of battle; fights that he had amazingly survived. But he was not uninjured. He had more scars about his arms and torso than even his father had had. Some were still not properly healed.

A sudden clamour from up ahead made his heart sink.

“Not again! That would be the third fight today already, and my luck must run out soon.”

Despite his bone-deep weariness, and his almost certainty of a death waiting just round the corner, his sinews stiffened, his back straightened, and his fierce determination made him grab his bent and battered scutus and his gladius; he placed himself between the women and the oncoming attackers, in a position from where he could see events as they progressed.

His party had grown to be three hands of men and two of women by the time he had left Trifluvium and made his awkward way all the way downstream to Tedlum; but the constant harassment by small bands of raiders meant that now they had watched two of the men be killed protecting the little convoy. To which they had added a further hand and one of women only that very morning, an extra burden not only on comestibles and the like but they would need training too, taking up more of his very scarce time.

And two others of the fighters, a man and a woman, were wounded in the ambush they had negotiated just after struggling through Halcyon. They both, however, were gamely struggling to add their limited experience to the defenders.

But this time, his eyes now told him that they were outnumbered by better armed foes.

He felt his father’s spirit infuse him then. He may go down, but at least he would take several of the bastards with him.

These attackers, as all the others had been, were untutored in the arts of organised fighting, so his training of his little band had brought them through many dangers. He wished again that he had paid more attention to his father before it was too late. He was now, just, fifteen years old and effectively alone in the world; he had grown up far quicker than anyone would have imagined just three or so years ago. But still his knowledge of fighting was more than any of the others in his band, except for the near-blind Vulpinus Lupus, the retired Tesserarius he had stumbled over in the old headquarters in Trifluvium.

And then he had no more time to think such luxurious thoughts.

The killing must start again.

The first clash showed Callus that they were in trouble.

The bad news was that some of the bandits held back, obviously to create a second wave just as the defenders were at their most stretched. The first wave numbered as many as the defenders, and still they had a second wave!

And then he got the really bad news.

He could see yet another band, maybe at a strength of two hands of men, all mounted on fraena. He watched them gather pace and begin to charge.

He screamed his defiance and leapt at the nearest attacker with renewed fury.

… … …

“What? Where? How? ...”

A low chuckle made Callus whip his head round to locate the source of the sound. Even as he was doing that, he struggled with the knowledge that he was lying down, he had a splitting headache and that there seemed to be hundreds of faces all looking at him, these visages lit by the flickers of an enormous bonfire that banished the night that was otherwise all around.

His hand scrabbled for his Gladius as he fought back the waves of dizziness, his body accepting a massive dose of adrenalin.

“Peace, Callus Gaius, peace. We are friends. There is no danger here. Here, here is your glad-whatsit, if that makes you easier ...”

A hand guided Callus' to the well-worn hilt of what had been his father's weapon. His fist closed round it, the fingers fitting precisely into the well-worn grooves.

“.. but we would be glad if you didn't swing it too violently, just yet. Allow me to explain, will you?”

Callus' eyes swung round and then settled with a shock upon Vulpinus Lupus Bellarendi, who was smiling encouragingly at him – or rather at a point just past his right shoulder, for the old man, Callus realised with a sudden insight, could not see him lying here in the shadows on a … a... a what, exactly? … a comfortable mattress of some sort, it sort of felt like a … ah, yes, a straw filled canvas bag.

Callus flexed his stomach muscles and smoothly raised his torso, ignoring again the dizziness.

He looked around from this new vantage point. His eyes met those of a man squatting near him, but at a respectful distance. The man's eyes were without guile, and were welcoming and friendly.

Callus looked around some more. There. And there. And there, and there, and ….. People who had joined his small band, people he had sworn to defend. They all looked back at him, with a mixture of friendliness, encouragement and maybe a touch of awe. They all showed somehow a loyalty to him that he felt was undeserved.

He looked once more across to Vulpinus Lupus, who had now focussed more accurately upon his face.

“Canny? We really are safe?”

“Cally – we are! You have brought us through and we have joined with this man's band. His name is Roben, and we are safe here in his enclave. And none of your private stuff has been touched, I swear to you on all I hold true, we are safe. Roben and his men charged the attackers and sent them fleeing, but you were in your battle mind and were heavily engaged with the first wave. When Roben broke the second wave, you were distracted and took a thump behind your right ear.” Callus felt his head and winced when his fingers found the swelling that 'Canny' had described. “ You have been asleep for a day and more now. No … don't fret, all your things are safe, I have made sure. ALL of them!”

Callus immediately understood that the secret of his wagons was still intact. The rest of the news, however, provided him with a sense of achievement. Against the odds, he had brought his band though to a relative safety.

Callus did not, however, react to this as a fully-trained Chivan soldier would have.

He took a long, shuddering breath.

And burst into tears.

Huge, body-wracking sobs that seemed might tear him asunder.

He curled himself into a ball, and howled.

He was vaguely aware of being held by a female, for surely no man could have breasts like that, who whispered nothings into his ear. A small flash of awareness made him realise the great tension he had been under now for many weeks, a tension that had had no release.

The female stroked him gently, across his temples and his shoulders and his neck.

And laid him gently back down on the palliasse, by which time he was away once more into that world of dreams and recuperation.

… … …

“You are the son of MAX?” exclaimed Roben, loudly.

“Aye, sir – that I am. The son of Maximus Aurelius Bellarendi, so I, too, am a Bellarendi.”

“Then I am doubly fortunate. It is an honour to be able to repay some of my debt to him!”

“Debt, sir? To my FATHER?”

“Oh, pah, boy! Call me Roben. I insist. Yes, debt, young Callus Gaius (you Chivans and your complicated namings!). Debt indeed. Your father, and another called Carpius Julius who had come all the way from the Jod lands in the service of your Chivan Empire or whatever you call it, rescued me and my trading caravan in the town up there ...” he jerked his thumb upvalley “... you call Trifluvium. Without his help, we would be nothing but penniless refugees from a land many moons travel away. But now we are here and we have gathered a certain … influence shall we say?”

“Oh! The Gods have obviously been kind to us, sir. Er... Roben,” he added this last hastily as a frown crossed the other man's features. “They have led me, us, to you.”

“Yes, although your Chivan gods are different to mine! Certainly, we don't have a God of Toilets and another of Sewage, and even a third of Farts! I sometimes wonder if there are really any gods, or whether they are just a human invention to help ease the everyday pains of living our lives. So, continue with your story, then, we pray, for we are all fascinated and even may learn much. … Your brother had been born ….”

Callus related his story which made many of his listeners sigh, gasp and even cry a little as it continued through the various tales and anecdotes the lad had experienced.

There was a genuine laugh when they heard the story of how his brother had been named Digrome, and there were shocked gasps and tears when they heard how his mother's life had ended.

“And your brother, was he ever found?”

“Aye, si … Roben. That he was!”

His audience gasped and leaned in closer.

“And I solved the riddle of my Mother's last words!”

“Pray tell us,” breathed Roben.

“Before I do, I need to explain something. I'm sure that all of you are aware that this Chivan era is coming rapidly to an end. I have a theory as to why nearly all we Chivans are dying so rapidly, but I cannot definitely explain exactly why I have not. I think I know, but it is so silly that I doubt myself.

“It is to me obvious that most of the problem we have is due to the Chivan insistence that we not intermingle with what we all called the 'peasants' or sometimes 'natives'. We even call them occasionally 'barbarians'.” He broke off to marshal his thoughts again. “I believe that there is some illness being passed from one to another ...” again, he broke off briefly as Roben glanced significantly at another man there, “... against which the so-called 'peasants' are NOT susceptible, but against which we ARE. Quite why this illness should manifest itself now, I have no idea – we have been here for twenty and more generations – but nevertheless there is something going round that means we die and the others do not.”

There was a murmur of general agreement, some with contemplative surprise, these had obviously not considered this possibility, others with a nodding acceptance of it being a distinct possibility.

“The 'natives' here have lived for generation upon generation on the same world, more than our twenty or so generations, for they were here when we got here. And they have lived on the same world that has produced this illness. EVERYONE says that the Chivans arrived from somewhere else entirely and they have kept themselves aloof from the so-called natives. I believe that this has been our downfall. EVERY single mixling I have met in the last weeks and months is alive and well and not suffering at all. Every 'pure' Chivan has been ill, with nearly all dying. Only a few have survived, but greatly weakened. Even former soldiers can no longer lift even their weaponry.

“As to why I am alive, when I have had no major intermingling with a 'peasant' or a 'native', I have a fantastic theory, which, as I said, I find silly. But it was something that my father made me promise to do.

“Now let me get back to the story of my mother and brother, and you may gain some slight understanding of what I mean.

“My mother had been secretly meeting with a native for a long period of time. This native was named Barabara by my mother, and it was to her she was calling when the kraak took her. She wanted the native to catch my brother when she threw him down. Obviously the two women had been meeting in that cave.”

A collective sigh spread round the listeners, with a few “Of course”s being bandied about.

“My belief is that this Barabara was too frightened to come out of the cave with that animal there, so mother was imploring her to make an appearance. In desperation she threw the boy down before it was too late. As it was, she waited nearly too long.

“My father told me that, some two weeks later, Barabara met him in secret, carrying the boy. And she explained what had happened that day. He felt I was too young at the time to handle it all, so he kept it from me, only telling me just before he died. He knew he would die; however, he lasted several weeks longer than anyone else, once the illness had settled into him.

“My brother had survived the long fall, in a way. Both his legs had been broken, and an arm, and he suffered a fearful bash to his head; he was now permanently sleeping. Attempts though to take him away from Barabara met with a fierce resistance from the unconscious boy, who clung to the woman in desperation. Pater, in the end, decided to leave him with her, fully expecting the young lad to leave this world at any moment. Now, you have to bear in mind that Pater was the officer in charge up there and therefore he couldn't be seen to be dealing with a native, and so he kept her at a great distance, which also had the effect of 'protecting' me from any associated scandal.

“My father knew his days were numbered towards the end, and he called me to him on two separate, consecutive evenings to give me a series of instructions. One of which he claimed to be the reason that I seemed to be unaffected. He told me - no that's not quite true - he made me promise, that I should keep drinking that Bellaqua concoction my mother had introduced me to, the stuff she ended up calling 'Bell'. He claimed that Barabara had also confirmed it, saying that it was beneficial. Pater tried it, but only after he was already ill; and it seems that something, maybe indeed it was that concoction, helped him to battle the illness, for he did indeed last longer than anyone else.

“I have drunk some 'Bell' every day since, and I have never had a moment of the illness.”

The lad broke off at that point to have a sip from the mug of Bellaqua that someone had given him while he was talking.

Amongst his listeners, a great commotion arose – some called Callus' suggestions 'ridiculous' whilst others felt that maybe he was onto something. This continued for a while until Roben took control, firmly and with a natural air of command.

“Enough! Let us consider this carefully. First, I wish to talk with all those of Chivan, or mainly Chivan, origins. All of you, this is no time for secrets and so-called embarrassing situations. Are there any amongst you who have NOT been drinking this concoction? Quickly now, it's a simple answer. Hands up if you have. No hesitation, just do it!”

All those involved raised their hands.

“Now, all those who were classed as 'natives' by the Chivans. Hands up if you do NOT drink this stuff!”

No hands were raised.

“So tell me how you make this stuff. I will listen to any herbers present first.”

There followed some more arguments, that were again getting heated, when once more Roben enforced some order.

It became apparent that there were three ingredients that were common to all the ways suggested for preparing this drink, and that there were a hand or so, maybe even seven, variations with other ingredients that all agreed could have been added for taste rather than effect.

“All previously so-called 'pure' Chivans shall drink this every day. Anyone else may choose so to do. We shall be nothing, if this illness gets a hold amongst us. We need to gather a great supply of the herbs and bushes mentioned. Young Callus Gaius here has added some valuable information that has confirmed some ideas several of us have been formulating. Now, Callus Gaius, are you up to a few more questions?”

“Indeed I am, Roben, though I know not what more I may be able to contribute.”

“We need to know more of this illness, how long it takes to settle in and so on. If you could describe what happened up in your village, maychance we shall learn more …?”

Callus leaned back, gathering his memories to play through his mind.

Slowly, he started: “It began with the stone workers up at the new quarry, the one that, now opened at both ends, allowed easier and quicker access to the upper Valley above the settlement, beyond the new dam. They were the first to report feeling unwell. It was two weeks later that others in the settlement joined in with them, by which time the stoneworkers were reaching the shaking stage of the illness. Once this shaking stage was over, they started getting weaker and weaker until they just died, unable to eat or drink anything anymore.

“There were many arguments about whether or not the new dam or the new quarry was to blame, but Pater determined that it was the quarry. That was why he and Carpius Julius took their cars up there just before the Tesserarius Carpius had reached his shaking stage. They attached ropes to the support columns and pulled the roof down upon themselves. Except Pater missed the rockslide they started; he was cut and bruised but that was all. There was no way out of the Upper Vale for his wide car, so he left the car there and walked out, trailing his two fraena, using the narrow cleft carved by the stream. I think the buffeting he got and the dust in his lungs and the cuts and bruises tipped the balance, and it was not long before he too started shaking.

“As I said, he called me to him one evening and gave me some detailed instructions. He struggled through his duties the following day, but by then he had only one, already sick, man left for him to command, and he gave me more instructions the following evening. He died in my arms, and I woke in the morning to find that I was the last Chivan left alive up there, that last soldier had also gone during that night.

“I was frightened and very lonely I can tell you,” Callus seemed to be unaware of the tears spilling down his cheeks as he spoke, “but this Barabara came to me and I accepted her presence. She looked after me in those days of loss and grief. She even bathed me once, on the one occasion I gave up hope and intentions. She fired my feelings back up, then. I suppose you could say she made me live again.

“One day, she told me, in heavily accented Chivan, that my brother was showing signs of waking, so I delayed my departure downvalley for three more weeks. He did indeed awaken, but was unable to walk properly; but I tested his memory and asked him to describe what was needed for maintaining the dam and the aqueduct, and I knew his brain had been unaffected when he got it all perfectly correct. Dear Digrome. I knew I could not care for him and do what I had to do for Pater, so I left him with Barabara. I did promised to return for him. I harnessed a wagon, took three or four of the fraena, released the others and I set off. I had to leave then to go downvalley before it would be too late due to the weather.

“So you see, Roben, and all of you, I don't think my tale can help describe the illness too much more. I deem there is nothing there that will advance your knowledge at all.”

“On the contrary, Callus, I deem you to have been very helpful. Now, I am going to press you. I want to know the timescales of these events. When did the first one show illness? How long, as accurately as you can, before the next?”

“Oh! Now you are asking! Phew! Let me think. ….”

Falteringly, the lad rebuilt the picture of those early days and fleshed out his thoughts under Roben's, and others', questions.

A long while went past, when Roben, with barely concealed elation, said: “So we are pretty certain that this illness runs its course over five or six weeks. And that it takes a week or two to catch it. So that is MUCH more than we knew a week ago. Do we ...”

“Hold!”

Callus looked over at his half-blind friend: “Canny?”

“The timings! By my calculations you must have had the illness up there before anywhere else. So it must have spread from there. How would that be possible?”

Everyone fell silent, thinking.

Callus slowly realised that his village, his settlement was probably responsible for killing off the entirety of the Chivans. The enormity of it shocked him into introspective silence!

By this time, everybody had taken to calling the man Canny, particularly after Callus had explained why he chose that nickname for him - “His names are like the names for various old folklore animals, animals which remind me of the stories of another animal that was called in the ancient world a 'Canis'. They don't exist here of course, but that's what it seemed to me, in my mind. And he started calling me Cally. So I made HIS name Canny!”

But this conversation was far more serious.

“Canny!” said Roben. “A good thought! So now we also know where it started. But not how!”

“Callus Gaius! Hello! Callus?”

“Hmmm, yes, what..? Oh! I know, of course! It must have been carried downvalley by the General's messenger, or one of the ill men travelling down to Trifluvium before the illness made itself known to him.”

“Of course!”

“The first to die, can you remember his name?”

“Why yes, It was Ramirus Septimus Tedlii.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Nothing much. He was a bit of a venturer, and Pater kept me clear of him, to protect me from some of his wilder schemes!”

“Oh!” said a disappointed Roben. “What about the second to die? You suggested that there was a bit of a gap at the beginning.”

“Yes, but that was because two men died almost together fir … OH!”

“What?” said Roben eagerly.

“I remember now! The two men, Ramirus Septimus and Priscus Publius – he was of the Decarinii – they didn't turn up for muster one evening and Pater was FURIOUS. Let me see now ...” he trailed off, thinking hard.

Roben's enthusiasm returned: “And when was this? Was it say six weeks before they died?”

They could all see Callus counting backwards in his head. He raised the head slightly and said slowly, with dawning enlightenment: “Why yes, it was, I deem. … Yes, it was!”

“So why did they not turn up for the muster?”

“I do not know for sure … I have only heard rumours, you understand … but they sent a message the following day, saying they had been injured and would report back in a week or so, when they were again fit for work. Pater was very annoyed but the messenger confirmed that the two of them were scratched and cut and bruised and were lying in a temporary camp near the road at the start of the trees. … “ his eyes widened yet again as another thought came, “why, that messenger – he must have been the third to die, and Pater had despatched him back to the men's camp a day or two later to tell them to hurry up. The messenger then passed on downvalley. Perchance 'twas he who first carried the disease!

“And the deaths bear that out. Then came the gap, and then everyone started falling sick. It must have been those two! And they were nowhere near the rock quarry, so Pater was wrong! The rock quarry can't have been to blame, although those two chose to keep out of Pater's way by going there to work when they felt they could do so, so the rockmen were the first to get infected after the messenger ...”

“Think, lad, think. Where had these two gone?”

“Oh, I don't know if I know, if you know what I mean!”

“What is down there? There where they camped to soak their injuries?”

“Nothing much, just the start of the Forest, a few side streams, the river and the road.”

“What's on the road? Would they have used that or would they have used woodland tracks? What's in the woods? Anything?”

“Not as far as I know. The river runs down, of course, there are animal trails, but we have never had any incident on those that I know about. As for the road, it runs as straight as an arrow, albeit with a few creases and hollows to negotiate, from the settlement all the way to the bend where the road descends across a rockface, a rockface that is like a giant stair in a staircase. The road then rejoins the much lower valley floor and heads towards the shorter climb out of the valley where it joins the road going to Tscharn from Trifluvium. The road you must have come in on, Roben.”

Roben, acknowledged the fact before saying: “Why would those men have been down there?”

“It must have been their few days of rest, otherwise they would have been missed earlier.”

“So they wouldn't have been able to go far?”

“No, about the limit for a day's journeyings, and they would have had to be mounted, would have been to get down to the Street Helm, the peak where the road bends and dives down across the rock face. Hold! I have a thought at the back of my head, but it won't come forward. Sshh now, let me think on it, say nothing to chase it away!”

But Roben could only be patient for so long, and he soon started again with more questions: “What else is down there, in that neighbourhood? Anything else of importance?”

“Of course! There's the other rock quarry! So mayhap Pater was right after all, it was the rock quarry but the OLD one!”

“Now we're getting somewhere! Do you think that these men would have gone down there? Why would they do that on their day of rest?”

“That is beyond me! Most of the men literally rest on their rest days.”

“Hold! Did you not describe these men as venturers, getting into scrapes constantly?”

“I did.”

“Then what was VENTURESOME there then, that would attract them?”

“I can think of nothing lest it be in the older rock quarry, that was still being used, of course, just not as heavily as the new one!”

“There must be something!”

“No! There's nothing there. The road, the river, the old quarry, the peak. That's all. There is no more!”

“If not the old quarry, then it must be one of the other three.”

“The road is just a road, it's boring. The river does nothing out of the ordinary. The peak is … OH!” Callus' face lit up with sudden understanding. “It was the peak! The peak!”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I heard another rumour later, before the disease took hold, but I didn't connect it all up until now. Years ago, when Pater and Carpius Julius came back, it must have been after meeting you, Roben, they had these cars, car being the shortened name for Carrus Biga, and thus could travel faster than anticipated. So the two of them took a little while out to investigate the base of the peak, the Street Helm we call … called … it. They discovered a hidden access that suggested a possible way to climb the peak, but they did not investigate further. They reported this, of course, and it was common knowledge. But then years went by and everyone forgot about it, I suppose.

“The rumour I heard later was that a couple of men had actually done it. This was reported to me by someone else, so I didn't ask the names. They had climbed to the top. We laughed at the descriptions of their ascent, saying that they had to hack their way through cohorts of angry avians at the top, avians that would have never seen a human before, and they were scratched, battered and pecked at by the irritable flocks up there. I thought this was just a usual exaggeration, but suppose one of them, or both, picked up the illness from the AVIANS?”

“By all the Gods, the boy may well have solved it! Well reasoned, young Callus. You must have the right of it. So these two men got infected, didn't realise it, made their way back towards the settlement, realised that they were too dishevelled and cut about to report, so grabbed the first messenger they could in the morning. The messenger was sent back, and it was probably then that he caught the illness. He went on downvalley, unknowing that he carried this dread illness with him. He would have infected anyone he came into contact with. From there, the frequent travellers and wagoneers would have carried this onwards to other settlements. And the General had this new speedy contact system keeping in touch with his outflung soldiery. I fear I may have been responsible to the rapid spread of the doom, for 'twas I who sold all those 'cars' you called them to your General.”

“And all because the Chivans had never developed any bodily defences against this unknown deathly illness.”

“Exactly!”

Roben's face took on a calculating look: “So it is likely we shall find many more Chivan bodies as we travel down to Bellarend. There are so very few up here who have survived. Mayhap, the valley dwellers will have been more lucky, but I know they were even more aloof and distant from any contact with 'natives'. And there is now, or very soon at least there will be, no-one in charge of this vast Empire that you Chivans built! There is a danger of chaos taking hold. We must needs make plans, my friends. BIG plans.”

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … ...

Digrom watched the men emerge from the trees and head up towards the settlement. He himself was the only one in this small community that rode regularly on the back of the animals and he had ranged far and wide, learning every track and every rock that could be seen from the pitiful collection of buildings in which they now lived. The men moved as steadily as they could along the road which had fallen into disuse and was pitted with lumps and holes.

Further up the slope, he could also see his band of colleagues all slipping out and gliding unnoticed away from the buildings up towards their big cave, the one with the hidden entrance that could be so easily overlooked. It was their defence strategy, their only defence strategy.

He watched briefly as a girl scrambled up, carrying a baby.

His baby.

He smiled, but returned to his duty of tracking the potential attackers.

He followed the men by using the tracks near the valley walls, along which he was certain he would be unobserved, for there was a thin tree cover between him and the men, one that allowed him to observe, but which would make it difficult, particularly at this distance, to be himself observed.

He took out his bow, and, with fingers made deft with much practice, strung it even as he was moving fast. The animal knew him well, and he knew the animal well, they worked together almost as a team. Digrom controlled the animal with knee pressure, and the occasional thump in the ribs with a heel.

He saw that the men were armed with those stubby swords he remembered from his childhood, but they did not wear the same uniforms. He counted the men until he ran out of fingers. More of them than he had fingers, then.

He watched as his colleagues set up the various traps and surprises they had prepared. He himself was to harry and drive and divide the opponents, should they prove hostile. If not, he was to be the spokesman, making sure, of course, that he was not placed in an awkward position.

As he observed, it became obvious which one of the men was the leader. This man fascinated him, and Digrom's eyes were drawn repeatedly back to this one. It was irritating that the leader rode in the middle of the pack, such that he was forever being blocked from sight as they progressed.

By and by, the 'visitors' reached the settlement. They stopped at the level ground by the bridge, and spread out, trying to declare themselves peaceful with their exaggerated actions. Digrom looked across to where the others were hiding and saw the sign that everything was prepared. Keeping his bow ready and visible, he took a deep breath and angled his way towards the men, breaking cover some distance away that they could see his steady and calm approach.

He concentrated on the leader as he approached, but was aware of the others. He demonstrably nocked a shaft as he neared, before he stopped short and deliberately looked around in every direction. He nudged with his knees and his beast edged forward.

«Who are you? What do you want? Why do you have swords?»

«Friends we.»

«How do I know that?»

The others had a quick chat amongst themselves and the leader spoke, this time in Chivan: “I am come to find my brother. I was brought up here as a lad and left at the time of the great illness.”

“And what name has brother of you?”

“So you do speak some Chivan! I speak only a little local language. My brother's name is Digrome, at least that was our family name for him. His 'official' name was Egidius Hadrianus. Our father was the last Optio in charge of the Chivan soldiery up here – his name was Maximus Aurelius. Mine is Callus Gaius, now known as Cally.”

“Of what tribe?”

“We are of the Bellarendi.”

“And brother? Why should be here? All Chivans here died.”

“He was injured when a kraak took our mother and him aloft, and she threw him down to safety. Unfortunately he was so injured that he slept for years before waking. He returned to us just after our father died of the illness, but could not walk properly. I was oath-bound to my father to do various tasks and I had to leave – but I vowed to return for my brother. He was last seen being cared for by someone named Barabara.”

“Wait!” He half-turned, made a complicated signal and received a reply from somewhere unseen by the others.

“You wait all here. He comes with,” he said pointing at the leader. “Come Cally, you ride with me. I take you to where brother now is. You others, make camp here, or up there upslope from huts and houses. It flat there, and water sweeter. We return when sun kisses yonder ridge, before going for the night. Cally, if you who you say, then we ride to dam. You go front. I not tell you way.”

“It's good, men. I trust this lad. He's right about the water. That big squat square building there, is the water source, there is an outlet two strides in from the south-east corner. You will find it easily. I'll meet you up there as the sun disappears. Come lad, let's go. What is your name?”

… … ...

They got more than half-way to the dam when they saw an old woman striding along. Digrome, still not having declared himself, called ahead: «Barabara!»

Cally gasped in surprise and rode up to her, dismounting as he got close.

«Barabara? It me, Callus Gaius. You well?»

«Come close. My eyes are not what they were. Show me your face, arse and heel!»

Cally laughed, knowing what she was getting at.

«You Barabara, sure.»

«Show me!»

Cally leant close and allowed her to finger his face. She nodded and he turned round, fumbling with his waist band as he did so. He pulled down his lower garment and let her inspect the scars on his left buttock.

«More marks!»

«Many more,» he acknowledged gravely, baring his heel and showing the birthmark there.

«Yes, you are Callus. Older, wiser, stronger, and now very much a man!»

«My thank for nice word. I glad meet again. Digrome still live, please?»

She smiled at that and glanced at the lad still mounted beside them: «Yes, he is still with us.»

«You take me him?»

«No!» she said, but with a smile, which confused Cally considerably.

“She doesn't need. I here!”

“You! Digrome, is it really you?”

“I called Digrom now – rom not rome. I not say before as we must careful be, we few here now.”

“Come down, brother, that I may hug you.”

“Legs still not good. Easier on animal for me.”

Cally beamed a smile of apology at Barabara and bounded up on his beast again, so he could hug his brother.

… … …

Cally set his men moving again, this time retracing the route they had used to get up here. He grinned at his brother riding beside him, who grinned back.

But tinged with sadness.

He turned round to look behind and waved to his woman and child. They waved back, blinking back tears.

In the five days since their arrival, the men had all been bored but Cally and Digrom had talked nearly the whole time. Cally had shown Digrom some extra things regarding the maintenance of the dam and the aqueduct, and Digrom had shown him some improvements he had made.

But they basically told each other their life stories.

Digrom's was by far the shortest for he had gone nowhere and done nothing, save helping the community here. He had been lucky in that one of the only two young women of his age had preferred him to any other of the eight available young men, and he had fathered a daughter last year. Some of their group had drifted away downvalley in search of more excitement, but there were sufficiently different families here for the community to grow with little chance of inbreeding problems limiting their future.

… … ...

Cally's story was far, far longer and more complicated. It started of course, with the last conversations with their father.

Max had, naturally, received news that the illness had reached Trifluvium, and was spreading rapidly amongst the Chivan community. The messenger that brought him that information had succumbed soon after; he was shaking already when he arrived. Max was no fool, and knew what would happen. He created a plan, and conveyed it to his son. Neither of them believed that it was a probability that the young man could succeed, but they both thought it was a possibility.

The delay that Cally took before departing quite possibly enabled him to achieve many of his targets. Digrom reported that Cally's testing of his memory had meant that the dam and aqueduct had been adequately maintained and the new knowledge had been passed on to the other colleagues that helped with the maintenance. All the community now enjoyed the higher standards of hygiene that the installations provided, so they were keen to maintain standards.

Back then, Cally spent a day or two modifying a wagon to his father's instructions, he scooped up supplies and weaponry, and with a heavy heart and a great deal of fear, he set out on his own, heading for an uncertain future, not at all certain of his abilities. He was physically tired as he alone had done most of the clearing and tidying of the bodies that had been left behind.

With four fraena lashed to the back of his wagon, he travelled downvalley as fast as he could without being reckless. After three days, he saw his first other living human. By then he was travelling down the Tscharn road.

That other person ran away though. There were some bodies here, lying by the road.

He came over the brow of a hill in the road.

He saw a small group, surrounded by a larger group obviously attacking them. The smaller group had a hand of defenders forming a half-circle with their backs to a large roadside rock. The attackers numbered two hands minus one.

Cally didn't hesitate. He sprang from the wagon onto one of the fraena and charged, swinging his gladius as he came into range. He took out three of the attackers with that single charge, and the rest no longer liked the odds. A few blows more and the attackers fled.

When those he had rescued had finished thanking him, they most of them shrank away from him – mainly because he was obviously Chivan but also because he was so young. They explained that they had formed a community close by, and that this party had been out scouting a new place for their enlarged group to inhabit. There was a wide area here, which could be made more defensible. They intended to build a home here, live off the land hereabouts and trade with travellers when travelling resumed.

Cally looked around and saw it was a good spot. He could even see all the way down to the river that flowed out of 'his' valley – the Praebella as the Chivans called it formally, but which had been shortened to the more simple 'Prae'.

Once he had declared his intention of travelling all the way down to the capital, one of the young men decided to join with him rather than stay here with the others. So Cally accepted his company, but wondering how to achieve some of the things his father had told him to do in secret.

Thus Callus Gaius and Merkko set their noses to the south and bade farewell to the others.

For Cally, the priority was to bring some order and training to the raw recruit he now had. Later he would teach him to ride a fraen, but first, he brought the boy into the way of fighting with a partner.

… … …

And so the pair made their way down to Trifluvium, by which time the group numbered four, another lad and his mother.

Following his father's detailed instructions, Callus brought the party to a specific spot in the barracks. The woman immediately disappeared and Cally was cursing himself for wasting his efforts when, a turn of the sand-dropper later, she reappeared, with some small provisions. She started cooking then, while Callus and the others built some defences, the outer ring of which consisted mostly of piling bodies one upon the other.

And none too soon.

The smells and sounds of cooking drew several desperate persons to their location, all of whom tried to attack, rather than request help or companionship. Cally was grateful in one way, for this was better training for the two lads than anything he could have done alone.

Finally, they turned in to get some sleep, Callus having set up a watch schedule.

In this way, their group gradually expanded until they were a dozen.

Callus revealed secretly to Merkko, who by now had become his firm friend, the first real friend he had ever had, some of his father's plans for him, and the two of them sent the others away on valid, but over-frequent missions to achieve the first objective.

Callus checked that the key his father had given him fitted the described lock in the described hidden wall. They opened the door, and the Chivan barracks stash of coin was exposed to them. Lifting off the false floor that Callus had created on the wagon, they covered the base of the wagon with layer upon layer of coin, a hand of layers that covered the entire wagon bed. They would have done more, but then the false bed would not have fitted properly. As it was they struggled to refit it anyway. All this was done over a period of time, so they became experts at releasing the false bed and replacing it.

Some of their group drifted away after a while, having encountered other groups that were not led by a tense, snappy Chivan youth, the second lad and his mother were amongst them.

Others joined them for just that reason, for the driven youth was fierce in defence, and was a good organiser. Merkko and Callus soon learnt to sleep in short bursts, for they worked in the night, and when they were alone during the day, to convert another two wagons to have false beds.

They explained to anyone who asked that they were repairing broken bed boards, but this only happened thrice.

By and by, the three wagons were loaded with the coin, and the treasury was nearly emptied. Max had impressed upon Callus that the coin should be taken down to the Capital and handed over to whoever was in charge down there.

… … ...

Then one day, the group dynamic was changed.

Callus found a half-blind, grizzled, old retired Tesserarius living in his own secret place in the barracks. At first, it was with pure relief that the two of them could at last speak Chivan again with someone fluent in that tongue.

Then a mutual respect came up, helped by the knowledge that the Teserarius was familiar with Callus' father and his record.

The man had introduced himself as Vulpinus Lupus Bellarendi, which made Callus Gaius chuckle, but he did not then explain why.

A strong faith and friendship arose between the two, particularly after the old man told the youngster: “You are well-versed and well-trained Callus. But you are a little too trustful, I deem. I have pretended not to understand the others when they talk amongst themselves. They think of me as a simple, Chivan-speaking old man of limited value and they discuss things amongst themselves. Several of your companions are waiting for a moment when they deem they have little more to learn from you, and then they shall be off. They have visions of starting their own tribes, and they feel that they can learn from you enough to give them an edge over their rivals. But they say nothing of these plans in your hearing.”

Thus it was that the youth became even more introspective and taciturn, so much so that several more drifted away from their group.

But with Vulpinus Lupus' help, those that stayed became a quite effective defensive fighting force.

One night, one pair tried to sneak off at the same time as taking one of the wagons; in the fighting, Merkko was grievously wounded. He died a week later, and Callus Gaius, forcing down his grief, decided there was little more to be gained resting here in Trifluvium, so he set out once more, a dozen men, with four women, eighteen fraena and three wagons.

As they travelled along, there were several skirmishes and more rescued travellers joined them. Not everyone went unscathed in these fights, of course.

And so it was that the band descended the valley and eventually met up with Roben.

Roben took them in, and this 'tribe' was by then easily the largest and most powerful around this part of the Bella valley.

But they all set out for the capital; the capital down there in an even larger valley, through which ran an even larger river, the Cyrillus.

Cally, for by then that was his accepted name, was the leader of the defensive forces, whilst Roben was the overall chief.

The lad had grown up so fast now that he was a real man, perhaps a little before his time to be so. It still didn't disguise his shock when he first saw the mighty river into which the Bella poured.

The group had come down the Bella valley and found that enormous deep valley at the bottom. Where the two valleys joined, on the right bank there was a large fortress which overlooked most of what could be seen, surrounded by a township obviously of those who supplied the fort. This was Decarinium. The fort gates hung open and there were no soldiers to be seen.

They descended to the valley floor, the Bella to their left and they crossed towards the raised mound in the middle of that floor, a raised mound covered with buildings, and even an amphitheater. They were not to know that this amphitheater was a small one, for they had no knowledge of any others. It was still the largest building around.

The Bella flowed past this mound and joined the mighty Cyrillus on the other side of the capital. At long last, Callus realised why the capital was known as Bellarend – it was, quite literally, the end of the Bella.

… … …

Roben had entered the town to find much as he expected. Only a very few Chivans alive, and much chaos and disorder. It was not long before his obvious leadership qualities drew most to him, and his 'tribe' soon doubled and then doubled again in size. He took over command so easily, that it was obvious the citizens wanted, no needed, someone to do so.

Cally was then set to work training an effective force, and was installed as Duke Cally, the title derived from the old Chivan word for 'leader'.

General Canny was his second-in-command and between them they organised an effective fighting force.

Several years passed before Duke Cally could take a hand or so of trusted men to go and fetch his brother from the village so very far away.

… … …

Cally's tale had taken them to the edge of the trees. Digrom knew that he had made light of his trials and tribulations – he had gathered over the past few days from the ferociously loyal soldiers that his brother had done much more, not least executing oath-breakers and killing rivals for Roben's control – and accepted that his brother might not want to talk about those incidents.

Also, in the days together before the departure, Cally had been a faithful and loving uncle to his little Leslet, and become a good friend to his Pavet, Leslet's mother. She in turn had come to love Cally as a true brother.

They had long-discussed the pers and contras of the little family coming with Cally back to the Capital. In the end, though, Pavet could not tear herself away from her mother and her family. Hence her tears as the two men departed.

The brothers looked at each other, and grasped arms.

Cally then turned and led the group into the trees, all now mounted, and each trailing no less than three mountain-bred fraena, their loads evenly distributed.

Digrom turned around, and let his beast take him back to his family.

For he could see no more through his tears.

… … …

Cally pressed the pace and they passed their first night at the little village, hamlet really, called Praevista. There he was honoured, for they remembered his rescue of them those years ago, and his group were well fed. When Cally complained of feeling gritty and dirty, then they had the idea of setting up a bath for him, and for his men, so they stayed a full day there, helping the locals set up the new special offer to future travellers – a fully equipped set of bathing rooms.

They went foraging and hunting during that day, and generally helped the locals as much as they could, this being their way of thanking them for the hospitality they had received. In turn, the locals scrubbed and polished the men's equipment and clothing as they slept, and all were astonished at the brightness when they awoke the following morning.

They made good time descending the valley. Once they were through the bottleneck of Halcyon, then they began to breathe a little easier, and their spirits lifted a little. They felt they were approaching 'home'.

This came as a shock to the Duke, as he realised that he had not had that feeling when up there at the tiny village with his brother.

That night, they camped shortly after fording the Bella and reaching the settlement at Tedlar. They were now on the south side of the Bella, maybe two milla from the settlement at Tedlar. They created a campsite, well supplied by water and quite protected from the elements by a cliff and some rocks. This was also relatively easily defended.

Again they had fallen in with a group of travellers, travellers with elaborately painted covered wagons and a fierce joy of life; a group of travellers, more women than men; a group of travellers where the men were weary from protecting the others and standing guard at night; a group of travellers in need of some relaxation.

The expanded group built a large fire and set to cooking the evening meal. Cally posted some sentries that the travellers could enjoy for once a group togetherness.

Their laughter was infectious and most felt their spirits lift – but Cally didn't. He felt a slow sadness creep up on him, a feeling he later recognised as a sort of sweet sadness that he himself had no family, had had no real youth; and everything that was associated with these lacks.

He fell to thinking.

The men recognised the introspective mood that the Duke had entered, and they generally left him alone.

The fire called to him and he stared into the heart of it, almost hypnotised by the dancing heat, flames and smoke.

Someone took out a lute and strummed gently, the notes adding to the magic of those moments. There were some sighs from others, a few sang softly to the tune, couples stood and danced, and the new wine was enjoyed.

A gentle, relaxing, soul-soothing evening beneath the stars. Relaxing amongst friends, with no worries of dangers.

… … …

Years later, Cally, along with his wife and children, would laugh about that evening but at the time he wallowed in introspection, almost unaware of what was going on around him.

He stared into the embers of the bonfire, feeling vaguely guilty that he was enjoying the melancholy moments. His thoughts were churning, and yet cohesive somehow. He recognised that he was formulating a wish for some degree of permanence, some reason to enjoy his well-appointed house down there in the capital. Yes, he was melancholy, but it was a NICE melancholy, somehow.

There were few large flames now, the woodpile glowing red hot, and the shimmering of the heat wove strange patterns in his mind.

Wisps of smoke rose rapidly on the heated currents, twisting into curves that fascinated him when he wasn't staring at the glowing, shimmering heart of the fire. He followed another curving tendril of smoke as it rose into the night sky. The lute grew a little louder, and there was some clapping of a rhythm.

He realised with a shock that there was a girl, no a woman, dancing over there, her multiple thin robes curving round her curves and fluttering as her body swayed. The curves of both body and clothing somehow matching perfectly those of the rising strands of smoke. He watched as she swayed, and turned and twisted, just like those smoke columns. It was uncanny how the two went so well together.

He focussed more now on the human than on the fire; more on the music and the sway of her hips, the curves of her arms raised aloft; more on her seductive mannerisms than on the burning wood.

He felt a burning in his loins, and a stiffening.

He looked into her eyes.

She looked directly into his.

… … ...

Destiny and dynasty.