Captive of the Forest Tribes

[crysede]

OOC: The following is a private thread for BlazeofLife and crysede.

Kiyla:
All around her the young girl could hear sounds of the city: the bustle of activity as people prepared for the market. She wanted to join the crowd and run through the streets with the other children, but a strong, angry hand held her back. She struggled and tried to break free of the hand, but it wouldn't move.

Her uncle dragged her up to one of the cages in the main square, shoving the girl into a confrontation with the snarling, dark haired occupant. "See this," he said, brandishing his finger at the terrifying creature, "he scares you don't he Kiyla."

The child nodded, petrified, squirming desperately in his grip in an attempt to get away from the cage. She remembered stories she'd heard about the savages of the forest tribes: how they would boil prisoners alive and then eat them, or, if no prisoners had been caught for a while, they would boil some of their own children!

"Well you know what we do with little girls who lie?" He asked, threateningly, "We bring em down to the square here," his voice became a harsh whisper, "and we feeds em to the beasts!"

The girl screamed, twisting madly in an attempt to get away. Her startled uncle let go, but in her haste to escape her feet became tangled in her dress and, though she thrashed wildly, she could not pull her feet free of the fabric that bound them. There was a terrible snapping sound, and she looked up just in time to see the monster lunging towards her through the hole it had broken in the bars.

***********

Kiyla woke up screaming, perspiration beaded on her forehead. It wasn't the first time she'd dreamt of that early experience: she'd had this dream every night since the tribes had started launching raids against the town two moons ago. Too edgy to fall back to sleep, she got up and walked softly to the window, gazing out into the street: buildings appearing as unformed shadows in the blackness.

The new moon gave no light, a perfect night for a raid. She shivered convulsively at the thought, her nightmare still fresh in her mind. Despite her fathers condescending assurances that no savage would be able to bring down the stone walls of the well protected city, Kiyla knew she would never feel truly safe until the tribes had been destroyed.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Kadar looked out over the camp, smiling to himself. Soon, they would be ready. turning back from his tent flap, he took a deep breath, and faced the men gathered around the map table behind him.
"Well?"
"Kadar, the walls will pose no problem. Already, we have men cutting shafts for the ladders and seige equipment, and the womenfolk have begun to lash the struts in place. We shall be ready within the hour."
This, tentatively, from the small, owlish figure in the back. Stepping back, the others made way for him as he stepped hesitantly forward. Blinking his sunken eyes at being the centre of attention, the balding figure rubbed his hands together, and Kadar struggled to hide his disdain for the wizened elder.
"Elder Leren, our thanks to your assistance and our awe for your wisdom," he said formally, repeating the appropriate words by rote. "We are humbled in your presense, and we strive to honor your past with our future."
Mumbling the same archaic phrase like a mantra, the others echoed his words, praising the Elder for his help.
Muttering to himself, Leren rubbed his bald pate nervously, shaking off the compliments like a hound shedding water.
"Just see that you use them right, young Kadar."
Looking like he wanted nothing so much as to be anywhere else at the moment, the Elder pushed past, and exited the tent through the hanging elk-skin flap that shielded them from the eyes of the tribe.
Looking to the other clan-chiefs sharing the tent with him, and seeing the same look of relief in their eyes that he was sure must be mirrored in his own, he strode purposely to the table they congregated about.
"Have the battle leaders been informed of their roles? We must assure that everything happens in the correct order, if we are to succeed in this." He looked around at the others. "Remember, beyond those walls lie demons and devils, and evil such as should never have walked the plains or the forests of the world. Are we prepared to rid the land of this nest of darkness?"
A silence descended over the group. While the warriors outside might cheer and scream their approval, these men were seasoned veterans, and they knew well the true nature of war. They showed not the posturing bravado of soldiers, but instead the subdued, quiet confidence of men who had faced battle countless times, and were prepared to die in the next.
"All right then, we shall strike at the sun's height, when the light is the strongest. Let darkness run, for we shall prevail! Inform me when all is ready, and gather your men, for the time is nearly at hand."
Watching them, he was filled with a certain quiet pride as they filed out of the enclosed space, several of them having to stoop to squeeze past the overhead flap.
He went to the door himself, to stand silently, looking out past their camp, past the enshrouding tree cover, to the walled city in the distance. The sun was only just starting to peak, and soon, he knew, the demons would be driven inside to hide from its revealing light. Then, the attack would come.
Kadar smiled, a grim smile without humor in it, as he stared at that bastion of evil.
This day, it would lie in ruins, cleansed by purifying fire, or he and his men would lie dead on the plains. Either would aceptable. They had made their peace with death long ago, and had little to fear from it.
he watched, and time passed, as the sun's glare slowly stole across the plains.

 

[crysede]

There was a strange sense of unease pervading the town that morning, something restless in the air. Not that anyone was expressing any doubts, far from it! The townsfolk were unanimous in their confidence in the mayors decision not to call for imperial troops: there was no point going into debt to one of the larger cities when their own men could easily fend off any of the savages foolish enough to attempt to get through the main gate. Since the farms lying beyond the wall had already been ransacked (their occupants fleeing to the town), there was great confidence that it was only a matter of time before the brutes realized that they could make no further progress against the towns folk. Then the savages would leave, and life could get back to normal again.

What no one was talking about was the fact that the savages had not attempted an assault on the main gate, and yet had not left: they remained camped in a forested area a short distance from the village. It was almost as though they were planning something: but, of course, that was ridiculous. It was well known that the forest savages were a highly primitive form of life: smarter than the average horse, to be sure, but still far from being capable of human reason, or any of the other higher functions than marked humanity as being above animal life. The Sultan had ordered numerous tests done on captives, and every one of them had born out this finding. Yet, as the days went by and the tribe remained camped nearby, there were more and more nervous glances being cast in their direction.

Kiyla:
Lately she had been putting off the chore of collecting water, from the well on the other side of town. She knew she was being foolish, yet she could not shake the sense of foreboding when ever she had to make the trek to the edge of town. Standing beside the stone wall as she filled her buckets, Kiyla could not help imagining that there was a horde of barbarians just on the other side of the wall, just an arms length away from her: she was certain could hear the scraping of their claws against the stones. She shook her head in disgust at herself: she was letting her imagination play tricks on her like a child might. Still, she wished the pump would work a little faster.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Still standing near the large tent, his large frame outlined in golden light as the noon sun passed overhead, Kadar watched impassively as one of the children came running up. He waited patiently for the child, bent over from his haste and panting like one of the hounds that they kept for hunting, to catch his breath. Finally, when he'd had enough and began to grow impatient, he coughed loudly. Looking up, the boy quickly straightened his skinny frame.
"Chief Kadar, Honored Elder Leren bids you strike at once, the preperations have been completed, the men are prepared and awaiting your command. When shall I tell him we are to proceed?"
Kadar gazed silently at the youth for a moment, considering. Obviously, the boy had quite carefully memorized the message, a fact that was not lost on him. Leren was up to something, and he was flouting Kadar's authority, to keep the boy with him long enough to memorize the wording with such care before informing his chief. The brooding chief had little trust for the weaselly little man, yet he could do little about it. In their culture, age was a powerful thing, and Leren's advanced years offered him a level of impunity enjoyed by few others.
Dismissing the youngster, Kadar gestured to a passing slave, and commanded the wretch to bring his horse. Her eyes filled with fear, the cowering woman rushed to obey, her slim legs carrying her away quickly. He allowed himself to appreciate the sight of her lithe figure for a moment, his lustful gaze following her ample curves, before dismissing her from his mind. There were far more important things afoot this day.
This time, when the slave came scurrying back, leading his jet-black stallion by a long halter, he ignored her completely, engrossed with the sight of the magnificent animal. Standing a full 5 hands larger than any other of the few horses that the tribe boasted, he gleamed in the afternoon sun, his flanks rippling with muscle, his dark mane and tail flying like pennants in the brisk breeze.
Whistling appreciatively, Kadar snatched the reins from the trembling slave's outstretched hand, leaping astride the mighty beast with a bemused chuckle.
Lashing the reins, he spurred the eager stallion forward, leaning into the onrushing wind, and laughing aloud at the exhileration that fired his every thought whenever he rode.
As he passed by the waiting formations of warriors, he waved one arm above his head wildly, and the men began to shout their approval, their ululating cries reverberating off the trees and echoing across the open field.
Galloping onward, he reined in quickly at the head of the great sea of soldiers, his gaze fixed upon their leader, a scarred, grizzled veteran by the name of Graven.
Leaning down, he clasped forearms with his friend, sharing a familiar look bwtween them. They had fought together many times, and each knew well the measure of the other.
"Are we ready, my friend?", he asked, his tone betraying nothing, exuding an air of confidence as he spoke.
"Kadar, my friend, it has been too long. Indeed, we are ready for this. The men hunger for battle."
"Then let us feed them, friend Graven, for tonight, we shall feast!"
Straightening quickly, he raised a single, clenched fist, turning so that all might see him, and smote himself full upon the chest, directly above the heart. All of the men watching followed suit, and with a cry, followed as he spurred the horse toward the city.
Charging forward, Kadar led the entire screaming, raging tide toward the distant walls, their weapons brandished, their eyes filled with lust for the coming battle.
The very ground shook with the thunder of their passing, as they moved inexorably onward, thousands of burly warriors eager for blood...

 

[crysede]

Isaac (commander of the town's guards):
It was with considerable relief that the commander heard the news of the savages' offensive action: finally an end to the tense waiting. Their odd behavior over the last few days had given him some concern, and he had posted extra men around the walls to keep an eye out for any suspicious movements - obviously an unnecessary precaution on his part. However long it may have taken them, the brutes were engaging in their typical, and fruitless, assault of the main gates. In a few hours time, after enough on their men and horses had succumbed to the town's archers, they would retreat with their tails between their legs. Striding swiftly to the town battlements, Isaac called out orders for his men to move into position around the gate house, setting others at intervals along the wall facing the onrushing horde.

"Now I don't want to see any of you fools wasting ammunition, you hear me!" He thundered, "You make bloody sure you've got your mark before you loose your quarrels. We ain't in no rush: once they hit the wall the beasts ain't goin' nowhere!"

Isaac himself took up a position just to the right of the gates, training his crossbow on the advancing front-line. The invaders were brought up short at the ramparts, and the battle proceeded just as Isaac expected: he smiled grimly as he took down another barbarian from the safety of the wall. Stupid savages, he thought to himself, they just never seemed to learn.

His first indication that all was not going quite according to plan, was when the sound of screaming from the town finally rose above the cries of battle at the gatehouse. Turning around, Isaac stood frozen with disbelief: savages? In the town?! It was impossible, there was no way through the walls! He shook his head: this could not be real. But upon opening his eyes there was no change in the awful reality unfolding before them.

Hundreds of savages stormed though the town, mowing down the inhabitants as the army swept through the city on a crimson tide of blood: their fearsome war cries mingling with the desperate screams of their victims, as the populace was driven before them towards the gate. Isaac immediately realized the hopelessness of their situation, by herding the terrified townsfolk up against the gate, the barbarians had given themselves a human shield: the people themselves would prevent his men from reaching the attackers until those they were supposed to protect had been slain.

Without waiting for orders from their captain, who was still staring into town in stunned silence, the guards began to pour down from the ramparts to confront the attackers. By the time Isaac had recovered enough to realize that their only chance was to open fire on the marauders inside the town from the battlements (hoping not too may citizens were lost from friendly fire) it was too late, his men were immobilized at the base of the wall by the throngs of screaming people.

Kiyla:
This time there could be no mistaking the sound of something scraping against the stone wall, Kiyla dropped her buckets in terror as she saw movement at the top of the ramparts. Instinctively she ducked under the nearby water trough, just making it beneath as the first of the attackers made it over the walls. She closed her eyes: this was just a dream, it had to be, it was not real, it was not real...

 

[BlazeofLife]

Kadar directed his men, the warriors moving in carefully planned manouvres as they harried the citizens ahead of them. Smiling at the stunning ease with which his diversionary force had distracted the city guard, he recalled the success of their flanking technique, as the majority of his forces swept east and west around the great walls, staying carefully within the looming shadow cast by them, and scaled the bastions from behind with the seige equipment and ladders that they had brought with them. Even now, his men carefully herded the people of the city, ever mindful of their instructions.
"Remember, not all of the beings with that city of darkness are possessed of evil, and we shall not sully ourselves with the blood of innocents. Such is not our way. Drive them, harry them, push them onto the spears of their warriors. If they are possessed, the demons will allow their hosts to be killed. If not, they will escape somehow. Remember, kill only those who are armed! Let their own kind kill the others, and we shall know the truth of their existence!"
Looking toward the main gate, where nearly all of the city's defences had foolishly gathered together, he could see the massacre, as the arrows of their supposed protectors showered down to slay the fleeing citizens. He smiled. It merely proved that they had been right, he thought. Only a demon would allow itself to be herded toward certain death that way, like sheep before the slaughter.
Glancing about, he gestured to several of the men around him, sending them hurrying down various side streets in search of more of the demons. Casting about himself, and keeping several of the fierce warriors with him, he began to stride across the square, but stopped abruptly as a flash of movement caught his eye. Motioning the men behind him to stay where they were, he crept forward, stooping slightly to peer beneath a nearby water trough. There, that same flash of movement. Quick as a striking snake, his strong hand lashed out, catching a hold of a slender arm, and gave a swift yank. He heard a high scream, then a girl emerged, kicking and biting for all she was worth, her face a mask of fear and outrage.

 

[crysede]

Kiyla:
Kiyla screamed in horror as she felt an iron grip close about her arm, and she thrashed wildly in a desperate attempt to escape, rational thought fleeing her as she faced her nightmare in real life. Viciously she kicked and bit at the dark haired creature that held her captive, loathing and panic coalescing into an intense burst of energy the fueled her struggles.

She did not know what her fate would be if she should free herself from his grasp, but there was no doubt in her mind that what ever happened could not be worse than what she would face at the hands of this monster. She had heard more than enough about the atrocities these beasts inflicted upon their prisoners, to know that even death upon their blades would be preferable to being taken captive.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Holding her arm lightly in his strong grasp, Kadar laughed aloud as she squirmed, pleased with the spirit within her. This one was no lamb for the slaughter, to be led haplessly to her death. No, she was a free woman, free of the demon influence. He caught her other arm in his iron grip, hefting her aloft with ease. He glanced down her supple frame, his eyes glowing with lust as he viewed her soft curves.
Setting her down once more, Kadar signalled on of the men behind him, who immediately approached with a leather collar dangling from his outstretched fist. The man looked at Kadar, then, seing the nod of approval, grasped her chin in strong fingers and bent her head back, pausing only to slip the ermine trimmed collar about her slender neck before leading her away, kicking and screaming, with the attached halter.
Kadar spared a single glance for the pair, seeing them disappear around a stone outcropping, before focusing his attention on the remaining warriors arrayed around him.
"Enough of this. Has there been any response from the garison?"
One of the scouts shook his head, pointly silently, as was his way, toward a plume of dark smoke on the horizon.
"Excellent. round up the remainder of the free females, collar them, and take them back to the camp. Loose them in the slave pens." Remembering the other girl, the one with the fiery spirit, he added, "except for the first. She is to be delivered directly to my personal tents." He raised his brow at the disgruntled looks being exchanged by several of the warriors before him. "Are there any problems with that?", looking around, his face darkening at the thought, he smiled once more when they shook their heads in negation.
"When the slaves have been gathered, fire the granaries. The blaze should spread throughout the city easily."
With that, he spun on his heel, returning to the wall to watch the events unfolding within the city.

 

[crysede]

Kiyla:
She struggled vainly as the large beast held her aloft, his well-muscled arms barely seeming to notice her weight. His savage eyes traveled over her body hungrily as he laughed at her attempts to escape his grip: under his predatory gaze she felt how she imaged a mouse must feel, when finally snared by the claws of it's murderous yet playful hunter. Her relief at being set down vanished almost instantly, as a smaller barbarian stepped in front of her. Kiyla's eyes widened in shock as the collar was placed around her neck: she desperately tried to back away from this outrage, but the other beasts' fingers held her head like a steel vice. As soon as she was released, her hands flew to the collar, clawing at it in an effort to tear the offending thing off of her. The one who now held her leash gave an annoyed jerk, nearly knocking her off her feet and forcing a gasp out of her as her throat was painfully constricted by the collar. Furious at being led like a dog, she thought about throwing herself to the ground and refusing to follow, but she was certain that her captor would think little of dragging her along by the neck.

Her handler proceeded across the field at a fast pace, forcing Kiyla to trot along behind him if she wished to avoid any more swift hanks on her collar. She stumbled along behind him, looking at the ground and trying to block out the screams and cries of women that she heard all around her. When they arrived at the camp on the forest's edge, she was lead to a large wooden pen - like that one might use to hold cattle. Just as she was to be tossed in with the other unhappy occupants, another barbarian came jogging up to the one leading her.

Although she had some difficulty with their rough, strangely accented speech, she understood enough to know that she was to be taken to someone's tents rather than being placed with the other captives. Remembering the hungry look in the eyes of the one who first captured her, she felt a cold dread spreading through her at the certainty that he was the one to whom she was being delivered. The thought sent new waves of terror surging through her: what unspeakable obscenities against nature would such an animal force her to endure? She could not even bear to contemplate the answer. Throwing her weight suddenly in the opposite direction, she managed to wrench the leash that bound her out of the hands of her captor.

Her hard won freedom did not last long: almost instantly she felt a hand grabbing her hair, flinging her to the ground. She thrashed and screamed, managing to claw her nails across her attacker's face, drawing blood, before he had her firmly held down. With fury in his eyes he quickly bound her arms and legs, and she found herself unceremoniously tossed over his shoulder. Her screams - the only protest her bindings now allowed her - were utterly ignored. At last they arrived at the tent and, passing through the main area, came to a smaller sectioned off room. Here she was dropped, none too gently, on soft furs in one corner, and her leash was firmly fastened to a metal ring protruding from the wall. The one who had brought her looked down at her scowling, running his fingers across the red welts marking his face, muttering something in an angry voice: Kiyla made out the words "damned she-bitch" and "serve him right."

 

[BlazeofLife]

Standing atop the hilltop overlooking the city, Kadar reflected upon the events of the day, as he watched the glow of the burning destruction reflecting upon the clouds above. They had completed their grim task, and few had escaped.They had also saved many of the innocents, penning them within their own encampment. They would be used as slaves, for now, proper recompence for the effort of saving their lives from the devils sharing their homes. They would work for their new housing, as slaves, that they might learn proper humility. Their pride in their city, in their oppulence, was what had surely brought the devil's attention in the first place...
He shook the thought away, not liking to consider such tragedy too closely. Rather, he thought of the girl they'd found earlier that day, the spirited one, the one with the eyes...
Shaking his head once more, he abandoned his perch atop the hill, turning with a twist and striding quickly back in the direction of the camp.
When he finally reached his tent, he stopped, seeing a group of men clustered nearby, talking and making motions among each other. He noticed that one bore fresh welts across his face, and he noticed, too, that he was grinning, as they passed hidden objects among themselves. Kadar caught the glint of gold and silver, before they disappeared into pockets and pouches. Wagers, then. On what, he didn't know, but he supposed it had something to do with the raid...
Ducking his head to pass within the entrance, he slipped into the tent noiselessly, his eyes adapting to the darkness within quickly. He glanced around, seeing the familiar decor of the communal strategy room, and made his way across to his own quarters, partitioned away from the rest by a thick curtain.
Ducking past this final barrier, he found himself within his own space at last, surrounded by his simple furnishings. She was hiding, cowering in the corner, and he missed her when first he glanced about. Only when he had looked elsewhere did he notice her there, her legs drawn up tight to her chest, her flaxen hair matted to the side of her shadowed face, the moonlight casting shimmering glints from the trail of tears streaking her pallid cheeks.
Caught off guard by her fear, he stopped, standing awkwardly, and searched for something to say to put her at ease.
"My name is Kadar", he said at last, thinking to ply her with familiarity, letting her concentrate on her own name, that she might find security in such sayings of rote.

 

[crysede]

Kiyla:
Absorbed in tearful contemplation of her fate, Kiyla did not notice the barbarian's quiet approach until he had entered the chamber. She looked up then, stricken with fear at the sight of him: he was even larger and more menacing looking than she remembered, in fact, without the leather thong holding back his black hair he would be the spitting image of the caged monster that haunted her dreams.

Her heart hammered painfully in her chest as he suddenly fixed her with his unnaturally dark gaze: his eyes were like two polished shards of obsidian, cold and black as death itself. He was truly a thing of nightmares, but she was certain that his true intentions would prove far worse then anything her dreams could conjure up: and now she was his, to do with as he wished. Even amidst her fear, her mind violently rejected this unthinkable reality: it could not be! He was saying something, she did not know what, and it did not matter.

"I will never be yours, you savage! NEVER!" She screamed at him, trying to pull herself further away from him: pulling her knees tightly against her chest with her arms, as if that would offer her some measure of protection from him.

 

[crysede]

grrrr, computers!

 

[BlazeofLife]

Kadar looked at her strangely, she was screaming at him, but the words were lost in her lilting accent. Still, the intent was clear. She was terrified of him. Backing away, he glanced to the wall, checking the security of her chain. Seeing it secure, he reached into a small sack beside his sleeping furs, pulling out several small strips of smoked meat, and tossed them in front of her. Gesturing at them, he stepped back, and sat upon his pile of pelts, watching her silently.

 

[crysede]

Kiyla:
Looking at the strips of cured meat lying in front of her, reminded Kiyla that she had not eaten since that morning. She looked back at the savage warily, but he seemed to be planning on staying put for the moment, so perhaps she was safe from him now. The meat called out to her hungry stomach and, heeding the call, she picked up a piece and brought it to her mouth. It was dry, but quite flavorful and satisfying. Keeping a nervous eye on her captor for any signs of movement, she quickly ate the rest of what he had provided.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Pleased at the first step they had taken, and that she was at least sensible enough to put her own well-being above her fear, Kadar settled back to watch her eat. Seeing the speed with which the food disappeared, he tossed her several more strips, along with a small loaf of hard bread. Pulling out a waterskin, he leaned forward, and, at her flinch, passed it to her with a gentle toss across the floor.
Rolling himself in his furs, and checking once more to make certain that her bindings were secure, he quickly fell into a deep sleep, his deep snores echoing throughout the small space.

 

[crysede]

Kiyla:
It surprised her, when the savage gave her yet more food and water: was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security, so that she would stop resisting him? Kiyla dismissed that possibility as irrational: he could do what he wished to her, her co-operation was irrelevant. More likely, what ever foul purpose he had in mind for her, required that she be fit and healthy. Perhaps she was to be offered in sacrifice to one of the demons his kind was said to worship? Exhausted, her mind still numb with the shock of what had befallen her, the thought of having her life taken upon some dark alter, in the name of the unholy, did not bother her as much as she expected it to. Indeed, the idea that this nightmare might be over shortly was strangely comforting, but she did not have the energy to inquire more deeply into this line of thought.

She ate the rest of what had been tossed to her, drinking the water to wash the dry mouthfuls down; then fell into an fitful sleep, jerking awake every time her captor so much as twitched a muscle in his sleep.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Kadar awoke easily the next morning, having slept deeply the night before, and opened his eyes to a beautiful sunrise. Attaining his feet in a smooth motion, he padded across the small space quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping figure in the corner. She slept peacefully enough, for the moment, but the bruises under her eyes spoke mute testimony to the fretful night she'd spent restlessly.
Deciding that she needed her rest more than he needed his breakfast, he left silently, vowing to check on her later to give her food.
At the outer entrance, he stopped, mesmerized, as always, by the spectacle taking place outside. All around, both clansmen and slaves hurried about, their daily routine seeming random, yet he could see the deliberate grace with which they carried themselves, and the effortless ease with which they went about their tasks.
Here a slave hauled water, the yoke hung carefully across broad shoulders, there, a clansman stood, the whetstone in his hand angled oddly, as he stropped the blade of his sword, removing the burrs and notches from the battle the day before. All the camp seemed anarchy, a chaotic jumble of bodies moving aimlessly, yet order could be found if one looked closely enough. It helped that he had opportunity to view them every morning, too, he mused, shaking his head ruefully. Still, no matter the number of times he watched his people at work, their grace, their beauty, their sheer economy of motion, left him speechless, awed at the turn of events that had brought him the leadership of such a disparate, yet united people. Everywhere he looked, people, his people, worked, the smiles on their faces as they went about their tasks bringing the same to his, as his own limbs longed to join in the shared work alongside theirs, his stauch resolve the only thing that prevented such.
He knew better than that. He had tried, countless times, and been rebuffed kindly each time. They prided themselves on the work they did, and on the service they brought to bear, serving him as they believed he served them. It was for him to lead, and they to follow, so much he knew as well as they, yet they took it farther, seeming pleased to serve his other needs as well, in return for his leadership. Sometimes, he longed for the days when he could wash his own clothing, or set up his own belongings when they broke camp. As it was, it was all he could do to make them allow him to trim his own hair, and see to his own washing, and still they clucked their tongues reprovingly at him for it.
With a loud sigh, he turned back, his reverie over for the moment. His stomach was growling, and the time was past due to answer it, before it began to gnaw upon his backbone.
Besides, it would give him an excuse to check on his guest.
It didn't occur to him until he came to the inner entrance to his own quarters, where she would be, to wonder why he needed an excuse at all...

 

[crysede]

Ilias (high commander of the imperial army):
Dismissing the messenger with a perfunctory gesture of his hand, Ilias scowled fixedly at the hastily scribbled words on the parchment lying atop his desk, as though he hoped his displeasure might be enough to convince them to alter the message they bore. He read the message over again, his eyes scanning the now familiar words:

Masun fallen. Very few survivors. Savages' main force engaged us at gate, secondary force came over city wall attacking from behind.

The fall of the city of Masun to the barbarian forces, was, in itself, not much of a loss: the town had been little more than a glorified farming village. It was the fact that it had been taken at all that troubled Ilias. The forest savages were essentially animals, possessing only the most rudimentary of language skills and little, if any, capacity for rational thought. This made their behavior at Masun utterly inexplicable: how could dumb beasts use strategy to defeat their foes? It was so laughable an idea as to be absurd, and yet he had received confirmation from other sources that Masun had indeed fallen (though these sources could give no account of how).

Ilias knew he was in a very dangerous situation: if he went before Sultan Ghazi with this outlandish tale and it turned out to be false, he would be driven from the court as a laughing stock, his career ruined. Yet, if he said nothing and the report was true, then his silence could result in countless thousands of innocent lives being lost, and he would be condemned as a traitor and lose both his career and his life. It was far too risky a gamble to be made on such slim evidence: he must interrogate the man who had written the message for himself.

He frowned as he did the mental calculations: it would take at least four days to get the man to the capital, and then up to another two days to send word to all the outlying cities (if the Sultan deemed such action necessary). His brow creasing in worry, he considered what the chances of another barbarian attack in the next six or seven days was: surely not that high, he reasoned, they would likely be carousing and reveling in their victory for many days.

Kiyla:
Upon waking Kiyla was surprised to find that she had managed to sleep well into morning, although she did not exactly feel well rested. She looked around for her captor, but was relieved to find herself alone in the bed chamber. What ever her fate was to be, she was grateful for the fact that she did not have to contend with it right at that moment. Standing up, she grimaced in pain at the stiffness in her body from yesterday's struggles. Gingerly, she stretched her aching limbs until she was at last able to move with a semblance of her normal fluidity.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Hearing movement beyond the cloth partition that seperated his personal quarters from the rest fo the tent, Kadar stopped, one hand oustretched to push aside the draping fabric, and let his hand fall back to his side. If the girl was awake already, she'd had little enough sleep through the night. He could only assume that she was still in shock, from the abrupt loss of everything she'd ever known. He knew, himself, what that was like. He'd lost his own parents in his youth, along with the rest of his family. He knew what it was like. The loss, the feelings of detachment...
The best thing he could do now was to leave her alone, and give her space. The last thing she would want would be to see the face of one of those who had destroyed her home, regardless their justification. It was still too new, too fresh in her mind, to allow understanding.
Turning back, he called in the boy from the day before, the one who'd delivered the message from the Elder. Since the boy was so good at memorizing, it would be a shame not to use the talent...
When the boy arrived, Kadar sent him to each of the five chieftans of the tribes, bidding them assemble in the command tent. Considering his words with care, he made completely certain that the boy had the missive stored properly, unwilling to risk the affront to his fellows if the wrong words were spoken, and then, satisfied, sent the boy on his way.
When the others began to arrive, an hour later, Kadar was waiting for them, maps of the surrounding areas spread out across the table in the center of the room. On each was marked a different location, delineating the various cities of the Empire.
"Gentlemen, warriors, we have a choice before us. We have cleansed the land of this nest of vipers, yet we have sworn on our lives that we shall not rest until they all are ground into the dust. We stand at a crossroads. Where shall we go next? We are a equal distance from the three cities of Rorn M'doi, Nol Caimaine, and Sohadra. We must now decide which is the greater threat, and which is to be our next conquest."
Cutting short at the sound of movement from the far side of the tent, Kadar excused himself, leaving the others to discuss the decision amongst themselves, and pushed aside the curtain seperating his quarters, entering to find his 'guest' awake, and staring at him.

 

[crysede]

Kiyla:
After stretching, she settled back down on the floor and tried to organize her thoughts. In the light of day the cloud of depression had lifted somewhat, and she was once more thinking of how to escape from the terrible fate awaiting her. Unfortunately her mind seemed to be flitting from one thing to another like a nervous colt, and she was unable force herself to focus on the situation at hand. She shook her head in irritation: how could she find a way out of this mess if she could not think clearly. Just then Kiyla heard a sound at the entrance, and looked up to find herself meeting her captor's dark gaze, she hastily looked away, trembling.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Meeting her gaze, Kadar stepped into the private room, his large form casting a shadow across the floor. Seeing the terror in her eyes, he stopped, momentarily at a loss for words, then turned away quickly. Rummaging within the small cabinet once more, he produced a handful of the dried pieces of meat, as well as a loaf of hard bread and a flask of now-warm water. Walking back to her, he held them out to her, stopping a few feet away, to see if she would accept the offering.

 

[crysede]

Kiyla:
Hearing him opening a cabinet, she looked back to see what he was doing. When she saw him remove the meat and bread, her stomach suddenly awoke and she realized she was starving. To her dismay, instead of tossing the food to her as he had last night, he held it out to her this time: clearly she was going to have to approach him in order to get it. She glanced from his face to the food and back again apprehensively. Finally, almost against her will, she crawled forward just far enough to take the food and drink he offered: her hunger overcoming her fear.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Deciding that she had had enough time to brood, Kadar went to the wall, feeling her eyes upon him the entire time, and seized her chain in one hand. Unfastening it from the wall, he led her outside, past the watchful eyes of his fellows, and out the main entrance to the large tent, shielding his eyes from the sun. Gesturing to one of the slaves, he passed the chain to her, pleased to see her tight grip on the leash.
This slave, Lorna, he trusted. She was Talaan, or Dedicated, a term used to describe those taken during the old clan wars. In battle, it was the height of dishonor to allow oneself to be captured by one's enemy, so measures were put in place to avoid it. When an honorable death was impossible, and Viet, slavery, was imminent, a warrior could declare themselves Talaan. It was nearly the same as Viet, yet because the slavery was at their own choice, and not enforced, they had both a small measure of their honor returned, and the distinction of being much more trustworthy than a slave aquired through other means.
Lorna would guard the new girl with her life, for the height of dishonor that would acrue her if she were to fail would be unbearable...
Shaking his head, annoyed at the bemused thoughts running through his mind of late, he bade her take the girl for a walk, to allow her the fresh air, and to simply let her relax at her own pace. The choice was the city girl's, so long as Lorna kept her within the confines of the camp.
Turning back, he ducked beneath the flap behind him, re-entering the tent with a last parting wave.

 

[crysede]

Kiyla:
Keeping her head down, and walking with an air of dejected hopelessness, Kiyla followed the slave girl now in command of her. Within her heart, however, hope burst forth like a blossom in the summer sun: the girl was clearly strong, and even a little taller than herself, but Kiyla doubted the girl had quite the agility and endurance that years of training in the sacred dances had given her own lithe body. However, she was careful to hide her athleticism for now, walking in the manner of a proper city lady, who was more accustomed to travel by coach than by foot.

When it became apparent to Kiyla that she was being allowed to go where she wished in the camp, she began to wander with apparent aimlessness, gazing disinterestedly at the activities surrounding her: every now and then moving to the edge of camp, before heading back in again. The first few times she could feel the slave girl tensing in suspicion as they neared the edge, but after a few more repeats the girl remained relaxed: content that Kiyla was sufficiently cowed not to try anything, and no doubt convinced that she could easily deal with her if she did try something.

Kiyla noticed that the watchful girl's attention drifted somewhat whenever they happened to pass one particular warrior, although he seemed oblivious to their presence as he focused on sharpening his blade. When they first passed him, Kiyla too had gazed in some admiration at the sight of his powerful muscles flexing as he worked the whetstone carefully along the weapon's edge, but she was even more interested in the girl's reaction to him.

With practiced control, Kiyla forced her body to remain loose, so as not to give away her intentions to her keeper, as they once more neared the edge of camp: this time near to where the warrior stood working on his blade. The undergrowth was thick in this part of the woods, something that would work to her advantage, since she would pass far more easily through it than the much larger warriors would be able to, and riding horses through it was quite out of the question.

She waited until just the right moment, when the slave girls attention had once more jumped to the man; then spun suddenly, extending her leg in a graceful jump kick. It was a move from the spring fertility dance that was properly used to show off the dancers youthful flexibility, rather than inflict harm on the watchers, but an unintended accident in practice had taught Kiyla it's offensive potential. Her foot slammed into the girls ribcage, and it was a testament to the strength of her opponent that the girl did not crumple to the ground: but because the girl had been caught by surprise, she was unbalanced enough by the attack that Kiyla was able to wrench the leash free of her fingers.

Not wasting so much as an instant to look back, Kiyla dove into the forest at top speed. Unlike her panicked attempt at flight the day before, this time Kiyla's mind was focused on escape with the instinctive clarity of an animal who knows it's life depends on this one act of flight. Vaulting over and sliding under obstacles, oblivious to the stinging bite of thorns on her skin, she ran.

 

[BlazeofLife]

Kadar was just finishing the meeting with his peers when he heard the commotion growing outside. Snapping the door flap aside with a quick motion, he looked out over the camp, and saw Lorna running toward him, empty handed. Cursing, he didn't bother to wait for her stammered apology, instead turning and running back inside. He wasted little time, telling the others there to proceed with the attack without him if he hadn't returned yet, and grabbing only a length of fine rope for supplies, girding himself with a leather jirken and stout hide bucklers upon his arms, and raced back outside. He waited for Lorna to point the way, and took off, shoving clansmen aside in his haste. Seeing the opening broken through the underbrush, he raced ahead, dodging the stinging brambles and strewn obstacles with practiced ease. He could see her trail ahead of him, her desperation causing her to blunder through the forest with all the grace of a herd of horses, and he could tell, too, the brevity of time that had elapsed since she had blazed the trail. In places, sap still glistened, welling upward from breaks in the foliage like a heart's blood. Smiling, he raced onward, confidant that he would have her soon.