The Iarians - A New Age - 1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

 

 

Before the arrival of the humans from Earth, the Kiar Peoples of the world now known as Beneterra had neither the written word nor a proper name for the world they inhabited. The knowledge of the Kiar were passed on in their oral traditions, shared from generation to generation. The myth surrounding the origins of the world of Beneterra is surprisingly similar to that of Earth; that a divine and supernatural being simply known as the One or the Creator created the universe out of the Chaos.

 

 

The One then made the vegetation and creatures of Beneterra, before finally creating intelligent humanoid beings to populate the world. These indigenous peoples refer to themselves simply as the Kiar - which means People in their tongue.

 

 

A noteworthy fact about the world and people of Beneterra is the remarkable similarity and resemblance they share with the life of planet Earth. The Kiar are humanoid, sharing many similar habits, traits, and even anatomy with humans of Earth, albeit for the fact that they are hermaphrodites, bearing both male and female reproductive organs.

 

 

In time, we came to name the world Beneterra - a Latin compound literally translating to 'good earth' - a wish that the land live up to its name and prove good, bountiful and blessed.

 

 

A History of the Iarians of Beneterra,

 

by Professors Karl Adler and John Kauffman,

 

Keepers of the Knowledge and partners in life and beyond.

 

 

*****

 

 

Village of Deka, Karan Confederation, Beneterra, 1 N.E. (New Era)

 

 

- Shaman Shanel -

 

THE FIRST SPRING rain of the year woke the old shaman as it tapped gently against the straw thatch roof of his humble cottage. His rheumatic joints throbbed and he rubbed at them, trying to dissipate the pain.

So it begins, he thought resignedly. Spring comes, its rain melting away the icy grip of winter. A new year and all the troubles it brings with it. Another year of enduring harsh and brutal raids, kidnapping and pillaging. And one cannot forget the privations that follow the raids, he thought bitterly. The old man recalled the galling need for the village of Deka to beg for aid during the Karan Gathering where the Mara and Tani clans would gather to elect new leadership and pass laws.

The village of Deka was but one small settlement of the Tani, a clan of farmers and herders banding together in small villages scattered throughout the Iarian valley. Forming permanent settlements to work the land, the Karan had grown rich and earned the envy of their neighbour, the Prasa Tribe of the nomadic brother clan, the Bara.

Every year, the Bara tribes - amongst them the Prasa - would send raiders south to the Karan Confederation, stealing cattle and food, as well as whatever wealth the weak villagers had. For over half a century the raids had been taking their toll on the Karan Confederation. The Karan Confederation, an alliance of the brother tribes of Mara and Tani was being split up by in-fighting and resentment. The Tani settlements inland closest to the Bara were dying, amongst them was the village of Keda.

Already the Mara tribes along the coast of the Ta'in sea were reluctant to render aid to the Tani. Where in the past military and monetary aid were given freely to the struggling Tani villages in the aftermath of the annual raids, now what little help given is done begrudgingly and with great reluctance.

Many villages by the border were already abandoned, its peoples fleeing to the safety of the larger settlements along the coast. As a result, the Bara have started raiding even deeper into Confederation land, pillaging and instilling fear in the hearts of the Confederation leaders. The once close bond between Confederation peoples were breaking.

The new generation of leaders elected throughout the Confederation are fools, he mused. Could they not see that the border villages are the only things keeping the coastal settlements safe from the predations of the Bara? Refuse aid and not only are they weakening themselves, the raids would only deepen into Confederation territory. Also, the Tani and the Mara have always been heavily interdependent. The agricultural Tani supplied food and fed the coastal trade settlements while the Mara traded salt and the bounty of the seas, in addition to spices from the overseas colonies of the Karan Confederation. The Mara princes within the Karan Confederation would be short sighted to deny aid to the Tani as they would starve and fall without Tani produce.

Bah, he was resigned to the foolishness of the elected leaders. Only divine intervention would be sufficient to aid the failing alliance between Mara and Tani. Unfortunately, it appeared that his many prayers for the safety of his people along with those of the Tani to the One still went unheard.

Sighing, he shakily left the warmth of his furs and got to his feet. His movements slow and deliberate, straightening creaky old bones and straining muscles weakened by age.

Blast this affliction of age decrepitude, he cursed. If only I were twenty years younger, then I'd join the village warriors in putting up a fight. Then, not only would we repulse the damned Bara raiders, we'd chase them right into their land and reclaim our children.

A wave of sadness washed over him once again when he was reminded of the eldest of his three children, taken away in one such raid but seven years before. No doubt miserable and heavy with child, he thought and could only pray that the One preserve him. The Bara have much to answer to, and if - no, when - the One finally answers their prayers and delivers them to victory, he swore that the Bara raiders would answer fully for their crimes against the Tani.

No, better not to dwell overly on bitter thoughts. We must live in the present and the need to survive, he affirmed, reining and redirecting his thoughts to the present circumstance and needs of his village, his spiritual flock. The old shaman threw on his thick fur coat and felt head coverings, then his thick leather boots before woodenly making his way through the smoky interior of the cottage, heading towards the door. Slowly bending down, he strapped on the snowshoes made of a light wooden frame with an intricate lattice of rawhide, shaped in tear drop. Taking a deep breath to fortify himself before confronting the cold, he then opened the door and out into the village street.

Nestled in a small valley, tall and imposing mountains coated in a beautiful blanket of white ice and snow rose to the north and west of the village, providing a natural barrier against the strong winds and snows of winter. Along the east flowed the Tuar River that marked the border between the Karan Confederation and the land of the Prasa Tribe of Clan Bara. East of the river, the land was wild and untamed forest, a sharp and distinct contrast to the western side belonging to the Karan Confederation where wide and open swathes of land had been cleared for farming. At this time however, the coating of ice and snow blanketed the empty fields stretching far to the south and east ending at the river.

Life was stirring about him as the sounds of villagers going about their chores greeted him. Dark plumes of smoke rose from the small openings in the thatched roofs of the small homes of the village. From the thatched barns attached to each home came the sounds of the livestock.

The ice and snow that earlier coated the village was melting in the stream of rain and turned to slush. He hunched down and pulled his head wrappings closer about him before making his way towards the meeting house, all the while cursing and muttering darkly. The numbing cold snapped at his heels while the cold rain pelted him and he quickened his step, eager to get to the warmth of the meeting hall. Blight take you, he darkly thought in his heart. All these years and you have not given us any hope at all. Can you not give us any respite from the raids, Lord? Are you really there at all? I mean, is it really your divine purpose for us, your poor people to be victims at the hands of our brothers? Why forsake us when we have kept to your commandments? The shaman resigned himself to receiving nothing but silence from the One, as always ever since the beginning of the raids and the Schism of the Faith.

Halfway to the meeting hall, the old shaman suddenly stopped as he felt the world suddenly start to slip away. The biting cold no longer distressed him, a feeling of heavenly peace descending and laying a warm blanket of serenity and joy over him. Even the cold rain was no longer a torment to him, instead feeling like the warm summer rains in which he had ran and played in his distant childhood. All of his years and burdens slipped away and he straightened once again from the hunched over posture he had assumed from age and worry.

Finally, an answer at last, he thought grumpily though he kept this silent. "How may this humble old servant of yours serve Thee, Lord?" the shaman said in a strong voice filled with the clear timbre and vigour of his youth, though in the subservient tone of a supplicant. No more the thin, hoarse and reedy voice of before, he thought gratefully.

The piercing, tinkling of a child's laughter greeted his spoken words. ::Oh Shanel. Dear old, grumpy, cantankerous, rebellious Shanel. Thinketh thou that by not voicing thy tiresome plaints I knoweth not the inner whispers of thine heart? Thine groans and bitter thoughts. Thine frustrations and doubts, thine worries and sorrows?::

 

"Forgive me, Lord," the shaman hurriedly replied. "I shall strive not to be such a bothersome thorn in Thine side anymore, Lord."

::It matters not:: came an amused reply. ::Truly, I Chose thee for thine prickly nature as much as for thine faith, dear Shanel. Indeed, the time of thine liberation is at hand. Look to the east, from whence comes the salvation of thee and my peoples.::

Shanel turned his eyes towards the east across the Confederation border and saw a sudden flash of white light in the distance deep within Bara territory. "What is that, Lord?" he asked excitedly, the elusive and long absent stirrings of hope once again taking root in his heart.

::The instruments of Mine aid to thee. Tarry no more with words and send thine apprentice and one warrior to seek the means of thine deliverance. Concern thyself not with the means by which they shall deliver thee, for I shall guide them through the lands of the Bara.::

Cold, hard reality suddenly dawned on him and the old shaman's happy posture drooped once again. "But Lord, that is Bara land. To venture there would only spell out certain death. I have lost one son already. To send my apprentice would be to certainly deprive me of another. Is there no other way, Lord?" the shaman's voice took on a plaintive and mournful tone.

Only silence met his words as the godly presence of the One left him. All of a sudden, the peace and warmth abandoned him and the cold wind and rain drove him to violent shivers. "Master Shaman," a distant voice called out as well as the sounds of other villagers calling out in concern. Several layers of warm fur coats and blankets were wrapped around the frail old shaman as several villagers quickly led him towards the meeting hall.

Blessed warmth from a roaring fire met his trembling body upon entry to the meeting hall. The hall was a massive building located in the middle of the village. The largest structure in the village, it was supported by thick wooden beams. Its walls were made out of a thick layer of wattle and daub construction, coated with numerous layers of thick clay dried in the sun and whitewashed every year during the height of summer. Its thick walls formed an excellent barrier against the cold outside and kept most of the heat from the fire within. The few windows of the hall were shuttered tight and any openings were stuffed with straw and felt cloths to keep without the biting winter wind.

The loud voices of the old shaman's rescuers silenced the drone of voices in the meeting hall and a path was quickly driven towards the fire as the old shaman was brought before the fire. Rough hands swiftly pulled aside the wet layers of fur coats and blankets around the shaman as he was bared in front of the roaring fire. Once bared, his second son and apprentice shaman, Terin, came to rub warmth and life into the shaman's extremities, seeking to ensure that no limbs were lost to frost bite.

Concerned voices and gazes surrounded the shaman. However, only one strong voice rose above the rest and was heard by the shaman. "Of all the fool-headed stunts you have pulled in your life, this must be the most idiotic," the powerful voice boomed filled with reproach. Pasa, Peace Chief of Deka Village and Shanel's oldest and closest friend levelled a critical glare at the ragged old shaman, though it was filled with love and concern.

"Enough of that, Terin," said Peace Chief Pasa waving away the ministrations of Shanel's son and apprentice before taking up where Terin had left off and massaging Shanel's feet. "Go get some hot broth from the fire for our wool-brained shaman. Also, go get one of his vile herbal concoctions, would you. After all, our dear shaman deserves a good taste of his own medicine once in a while." This playful comment was responded to by smiles all around by villagers who remember all too often being forced to down the old shaman's herbal remedies.

Terin let out a muffled snigger which Shanel treated with a withering glare. "Yes sir," he said cheekily and hurried towards the large stew pot bubbling away with a nourishing meat and fish stew. Taking a clay bowl and a ladle, he scooped a bowl-full and presented it to his father.

Shanel gave him a grateful look and happily warmed his hands from the heat of the hot soup in the clay bowl. Terin then climbed up towards the rafters where Shanel hanged his herbs and ingredients, quickly gathering the required ingredients of marrow root and bitter leaf to make the tisane to fortify the body and ward off the cold and chills. Reaching the fire, Terin then filled a smaller pot with the herbs and water before hanging it on another hook above the fireplace.

"Maybe as punishment for his foolishness, we can withhold adding in any honey," Pasa teased which was again met with an indignant glare from the shaman.

"Mercy, Chief," said Elder Dain of the Deka Council and husband-mate of Peace Chief Pasa with a chuckle. "I'm sure our esteemed shaman has learned his lesson."

Pasa shook his head with disapproval and said, "Whatever were you doing standing out there in the cold? Have you a death wish? Do you want to deprive your sons not only with their eldest brother but also their father? Would you leave our village with a half-trained shaman and without the benefit of your experience?"

The shaman did not reply for some time, only taking small, tentative sips of the hot stew. Sensing that no reply would be forthcoming until the old shaman was good and ready, several of the other villagers resumed their conversations from before they were interrupted. Shanel listened to the drone of voices, most of which revolved around discussions of the year's crop and plans for a new irrigation system to be built.

In one corner of the hall sat a group of twenty eight brawny young men. Amongst this group sat their ringleader, Dimar e Pasa el Dain - the son of Chief Pasa and his birth-father Elder Dain. This small group was the pitiful entirety of the village's warriors. No match at all against the Bara raiders who live and breathe war and bloodshed. They sat discussing morosely the village's chances of defending against the raids. The sad reality was that the best option for the continued survival of the village and the Tani has always been submission and meeting the demands of the raiders.

Thinking of the One's words, Shanel resolved, not this year. This year, we fight. After all, the One has already assured me that we would be free of the annual raids. Suddenly, feelings of shame welled up within him when he thought of the plague of doubt and selfish concern for his son at the expense of the Tani Clan as a whole. No. Terin has to go and obey the One's command to seek our people's liberation. Indeed, it is his duty to do so. Buoyed with new-found faith and hardening his heart, he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the villagers in the hall.

Chief Pasa noticed the serious expression in the old shaman's face and realised that Shanel was about to make an important announcement. He raised his voice in a booming call for silence. Silence filled the hall as every villager watched with curious expressions on their faces.

"No," said the shaman with a thin voice and a weak shake of his head. "Had a vision from the One."

Even though the shaman's declaration was weak, it was heard by everyone in the hall and was met with startled gasps and rapt attention. Divine visions and prophecies were rare enough and in these troubled times were all the more anticipated with great enthusiasm.

Before the shaman could continue with his account of the vision, Terin approached with a mug of the steaming hot tisane. "Thank you, Terin," said the shaman with an appreciative sigh, taking cautious sips of the drink. It was bitter even though generously sweetened with honey and he drank with great reluctance, before continuing.

"The One said that the end of our suffering at the hands of the Bara is approaching. He has delivered to us the means by which we can obtain this liberation, though it is up to us to seize it and make good this opportunity."

"Good news, then," cried out Chief Pasa happily. The hall erupted into elated talk and hope.

"However," Shanel's continued though this was not strong enough to be heard above the loud din of joyful chatter. Chief Pasa once again shushed the villagers and the hall fell into silence.

"However, we have to send my apprentice shaman, Terin along with one warrior on this quest to free our people." Not wanting the hall to burst into loud conversation again, he quickly continued, "They must travel East to the lands of the Bara where the One shall guide them to our salvation." After this, the shaman lapsed into restless contemplation.

The hopeful atmosphere of the villagers died immediately upon hearing this announcement. It was common knowledge that any who venture into Bara lands would forfeit either their liberty or their lives for none who have done so have ever returned to recount the act. Despair once again filled the hearts of the villagers and the hall broke out in loud voices, for surely any endeavour in the heart of Bara territory would meet nothing but dismal failure.

*****

- Terin -

 

Terin's froze with fear upon hearing his father's words. Surely he must have heard wrongly. He had always been a less adventurous soul, having never ventured far away from the village barring only to collect the medicinal and magical herbs necessary for the village's use. Even then, he rarely strayed far from the familiar forest and hills around the village. The only times he travelled far from the village would be during the annual Gathering at Lake Karan when every village and settlement of the Karan Confederation would send their chiefs, elders and shamans to elect the year's High Peace Chief. Even then, he had travelled along oft-used trails and in the safety of large numbers.

The One must be mistaken indeed. There was no villager less worthy or capable than he to set out upon this quest.

Terin readily acknowledged this shortcoming of his, knowing his own limitations. Preferring to stay in the village, he was most comfortable assisting his aged father and master, learning the Knowledge - that is, the histories and legends of the Tani, along with the other skills and functions of the office of shaman. Not only spiritual advisor and teacher, the shaman kept the tribe's Knowledge, provided healing and medical treatment, and perform the religious rituals of the Faith.

Not to mention serving on the village Council of Wise Elders and the Karan Shamanic Council. In these capacities, the shaman was an invaluable part of the Kiar Peoples. As such, the shamans rarely left the villages except to attend the Gathering.

Not only does travelling east mean weeks, if not months of hard travel, it would be through wild and untamed forests filled with many predators. This would be like a blind man fumbling in the dark. The Tani have never dared brave entering Bara lands. There would be neither trails nor maps or guides, nor was there any known purpose or goal for this quest as the One had not specified in the shaman's vision what exactly they would be seeking. And one can never forget the threat of the Bara hunting parties, of course.

To make matters worse, the One had also specified that I would have to be accompanied by only one warrior. Knowing the annoying persistence of the incorrigible Darim, son of Chief Pasa, surely he would insist on being a party to this quest. Though the strong, well-formed young man was indeed physically formidable, Terin had always had a strong aversion to the Chief's son. Darim had always enjoyed constantly pestering and tormenting him especially throughout their childhood. Bold and daring, Darim revelled in taunting Terin for his smaller physique and weaker condition and his less adventurous nature. Thinking of the superb specimen of Kiar, his eyes could not help but stray to give an appreciative glance of the awe-inspiring presence and body of the older and more worldly Darim.

Even in the meeting hall, Darim could not refrain from mocking him as Darim gave Terin a smug wink when he caught Terin's gaze on him. Intolerable man, Terin groused. Terin quickly averted his eyes and tried but fail to suppress the blush that came to his cheeks, his face breaking into a scowl.

However, his thoughts drifted to his poor elder brother, Kirin who was captured in one of the Bara raids. Shame welled up in him as he thought of the necessity for him to undertake this quest, especially if the outcome would mean peace and safety of his fellow villagers. No more rapes and impregnated villagers, no more hunger, no more kidnapped children lost and mourned for. Perhaps if they succeeded, they would even be able to help rescue his brother along with the many others taken captive.

Suddenly, he could no longer countenance not fulfilling the vision his father had received from the One. No, he would not be able to live with himself should he sit at home safe in the village without attempting to help his village and the Tani Clan.

Despite the fear and doubts eating away at his stomach, he summoned his courage and resolve. Drawing his fingers to his mouth, he let out a sharp, piercing whistle that cut through the cacophony and returned quiet to the hall. Every eye came to rest on him and apprehension returned to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. Before he would lose what little courage he had, he quickly stood on a table and shouted in his loudest register.

"I shall go," he shouted, though he was mortified at how shaky his voice was, belying his fear and anxiety.

"As shall I," came the loud voice of Darim.

Gee, what a great surprise, Terin thought sardonically. Of course Chief-Son Darim, master of all and centre of the universe must come with me. Whatever shall I do without him to torment me? He wanted to protest but could only reluctantly give a nod in Darim's direction. After all, no matter how irritating the young warrior, even Terin had to concede that there was no better warrior or companion for this journey. To be honest, he even felt a frisson of pleasure and relief that the strong and capable older warrior would be willing to accompany him.

"Wait, have you thought this through?" shouted a concerned and slightly distraught Elder Dain, fear for his son rising to the fore. "Darim, you are needed in the village," he hurriedly added, hoping to keep Darim safe in the village.

"No, aba," said Darim resolutely. "As a warrior, my place would be beside Terin. After all, someone has to protect our precious young apprentice shaman," the last was said with a smirk in Terin's direction.

Terin scowled at the taunt. Loathsome, intolerable fool, he thought with great annoyance. He continued determined to ignore the jibe at his expense, "We have to leave soon, then. Before the Prasa Tribe returns from their winter enclave."

Such was the migration pattern of the nomadic Bara Tribes. Before the first snows of the year, the various tribes of the Bara Clan would head towards a secret, hidden valley in which the tribe would settle down throughout the winter, living in their crude leather and felt tents. In these valleys, they would thus be protected from the worst of the winds and the snow by the surrounding mountains, as well as from any threats of feuding tribes who might wish to exploit the lax and weaker state of winter encampments.

In the spring, the nomads would leave their winter encampment and drive their herds towards the lowlands to seek new pasture for grazing of the cattle. The warrior hunters would then leave to hunt game from the surrounding forests. Only in the early autumn would the Bara tribes mount their deadly raids, seizing the loot after the Tani villages have gathered the harvest and hidden the necessary provisions of food and seed needed for the winter and the following year.

"I agree," Chief Pasa quickly intervened, cutting off his mate, Elder Dain's protests. Darim must protect what is his, he thought. Judging by the possessive looks he constantly aims towards Terin, the poor shaman-in-training has found a strong and stalwart friend, maybe even more, he mused. He continued, "I give my blessing to this quest. Terin and Darim have both volunteered to embark on this journey, free of coercion and undue force. Both are sound of mind and body and there is no reason against their venture."

Chief Pasa concluded this with a pleading look towards his mate who simply pursed his lips in disapproval. Nonetheless, he kept his peace though a worried expression took its place in his face.

"Indeed," the shaman quickly interceded before anyone could discourage and thwart the two boys, no, men he quickly corrected himself. Darim was already two and thirty years of age while his own son Terin was nineteen, both already past the age of manhood of eighteen years. No one without any just cause would be able to forbid them from leaving. Nor would any of the villagers, if their relieved expressions were any indication. Relief that none of them were to embark on the deadly quest intermingled with guilty happiness that there was indeed someone to perform the deadly task.

The shaman could only pray that they would succeed with the One's guidance. He felt terribly and frustratingly helpless, unable to do anything to help his beloved son, so sheltered and protected in the safety of the community of the village, safe. Darim had better take care of him, he thought. Watching the warrior's attentions towards his son raised his suspicions that more than friendly insults and rough housing was at play between both Terin and Darim. Ah, there is affection, he realised. With this knowledge, Shanel no longer felt uneasy in entrusting Terin's life and safety in Darim's capable hands.

*****

 

- Darim -

 

Three days after the vision and the decision to embark on the quest, all the preparations had been made to equip the young men on their tasks. The effort of readying both Darim and Terin was a village affair, with every household coming up to visit both the warrior and the young shaman respectively.

Every visit produced the necessary supplies and provisions needed for the arduous journey. Amongst these gifts were lengths of stout rope woven out of strong vines and the fibrous strands of the sasal plant's leaves, strong and hardy enough to help them traverse any of the treacherous rocky highlands that were a main feature of the Prasa territory. Thick and valuable felt robes and clothing lined with valuable furs were also provided to protect them from the lingering chill from the winter while providing a mostly impermeable waterproof barrier against the imminent spring rains. Wrapped in the broad leaves of the iniar plant, long-lasting travel fare was packed, from the nourishing flatbread made from the cereal grains of dum and li kernels, ground into a coarse flour and baked in clay ovens, to packages of hard cheeses and richly seasoned fish and meats.

Even his own warrior friends were coming to bid him farewell, speaking to him with a mixture of envy that they would not be allowed on the quest, but also relief that none of them would have to face the dangers it entailed. They produced several vials made of carved gourds of the deadly simila poison that would be used to coat the heads of the spear-darts favoured by the Kiar warriors. In addition, woven bags filled with dart heads and fletching that would be used to replace any darts spent were also given to Darim. The dart heads were made out of black itam stone, a hard stone that was easily carved and chipped into a sharp and deadly edge. Notches were carved onto the broad sides of the sharp head, allowing for iniar string to be used to attach the dart head to the shaft of the projectile.

Darim also met with Terin and the old shaman several times throughout the days, eager to steal glimpses of the young apprentice shaman. The prickly young Kiar simply interested him greatly. The adorable flushing of his cheeks in irritation, the amusing jabs and insults he plied Darim whenever he was provoked, and the brief slaps and pushes Terin would deliver him whenever he got too close to the young man. All this only seemed to inflame his affections and desire for the young shaman.

He recalled with great pride and admiration the way the young shaman had mustered his courage in resolving to attempt the task, despite being obviously rattled and filled with deep and profound fear. His shaky voice that threatened to break or fade into silence was stiff with determination. Such noble willingness to sacrifice his life and safety for others only affirmed his certainty of Terin as a mate to be bound with.

His attempts at flirtation to seek out Terin's attention and affection, which had been dismally fruitless did not go unnoticed by Shaman Shanel. Indeed, the old shaman simply exuded a pleased - though with great amusement, as if recalling his own clumsy efforts of courting - air of approval when observing the bumbling attempts at courtship that Darim tried to perform. This tacit approval from Terin's sire encouraged him to lavish even more attention on the lovely young man.

By the One, Terin will be mine by the time we return in triumph to the village, he swore to himself.

Terin was himself no less prepared as his sire the shaman seemed to pack as many packages of herbs and medicines in Terin's satchel bag made out of hardy paca hide. Along with the many medical supplies, poor Terin was inundated with a heavy barrage of advice and nagging that Terin accepted with graceful filial acceptance and patience that amazed Darim, though he felt a stab of pity for Terin's ears which should be falling off now from the endless talking to he received. The extent of this flood of nagging from the crotchety old shaman was even enough to drive Darim away from his own personal side-mission of the conquest of Terin's heart and love. As such, Darim would frequently flee from the shaman's home, though returning more often as he could only tolerate short bursts of the shaman's instructions.

On the day of their departure, they steadfastly made their farewells to their families and fellow villagers who had all assembled at the village gates to send them off. Summoning their courage, they set off on foot, both laden with supplies carried in bags and pouches strapped about their backs and shoulders. The coils of rope were hung about their shoulders and both carried long walking sticks to support their steps.

For protection, they had leather slings tied about their foreheads and a pouch of smooth river stones that they would be able to deliver these projectiles at the enemy. In every villager's boyhood, each child would be taught to use the slings for when they would herd their flocks, or for when Terin left the safety of the village to gather herbs.

In addition to his sling, Darim carried a quiver of eight spear-darts slung over his shoulder. Strapped to his belt at the waist with a leather thong was his asker, the common weapon of the Kiar. It was a simple but effective weapon prized for its versatility in battle. Made out of the dark, heavy heartwood of the lima tree, it had a knobby spur or outcropping at one end which would be used to cup the butt of the spear-dart. The asker narrowed to the other end which was wrapped in iniar thread to provide a firm grip on the weapon. The asker then served as a lever and effective spear-thrower, increasing the range and power of the spear-dart. Once a warrior exhausted his missiles, he would then close in with the enemy wielding the asker like a club to bludgeon an enemy to submission or death.

Thus prepared, Darim was ready to protect the object of his affections, Terin with his life, though he sincerely hoped it would not come to that. With that thought in mind, they crossed the narrow ford of the Tuar River which formed the border separating Prasa territory with the Karan Confederation. From here on, their lives and freedom along with that of their people would be in the hands of the One.

 

*****

PROLOGUE

 

Before the arrival of the humans from Earth, the Kiar Peoples of the world now known as Beneterra had neither the written word nor a proper name for the world they inhabited. The knowledge of the Kiar were passed on in their oral traditions, shared from generation to generation. The myth surrounding the origins of the world of Beneterra is surprisingly similar to that of Earth; that a divine and supernatural being simply known as the One or the Creator created the universe out of the Chaos.

 

 

The One then made the vegetation and creatures of Beneterra, before finally creating intelligent humanoid beings to populate the world. These indigenous peoples refer to themselves simply as the Kiar - which means People in their tongue.

 

 

A noteworthy fact about the world and people of Beneterra is the remarkable similarity and resemblance they share with the life of planet Earth. The Kiar are humanoid, sharing many similar habits, traits, and even anatomy with humans of Earth, albeit for the fact that they are hermaphrodites, bearing both male and female reproductive organs.

 

 

In time, we came to name the world Beneterra - a Latin compound literally translating to 'good earth' - a wish that the land live up to its name and prove good, bountiful and blessed.

 

 

A History of the Iarians of Beneterra,

 

by Professors Karl Adler and John Kauffman,

 

Keepers of the Knowledge and partners in life and beyond.

 

 

*****

 

 

Village of Deka, Karan Confederation, Beneterra, 1 N.E. (New Era)

 

 

- Shaman Shanel -

 

THE FIRST SPRING rain of the year woke the old shaman as it tapped gently against the straw thatch roof of his humble cottage. His rheumatic joints throbbed and he rubbed at them, trying to dissipate the pain.

So it begins, he thought resignedly. Spring comes, its rain melting away the icy grip of winter. A new year and all the troubles it brings with it. Another year of enduring harsh and brutal raids, kidnapping and pillaging. And one cannot forget the privations that follow the raids, he thought bitterly. The old man recalled the galling need for the village of Deka to beg for aid during the Karan Gathering where the Mara and Tani clans would gather to elect new leadership and pass laws.

The village of Deka was but one small settlement of the Tani, a clan of farmers and herders banding together in small villages scattered throughout the Iarian valley. Forming permanent settlements to work the land, the Karan had grown rich and earned the envy of their neighbour, the Prasa Tribe of the nomadic brother clan, the Bara.

Every year, the Bara tribes - amongst them the Prasa - would send raiders south to the Karan Confederation, stealing cattle and food, as well as whatever wealth the weak villagers had. For over half a century the raids had been taking their toll on the Karan Confederation. The Karan Confederation, an alliance of the brother tribes of Mara and Tani was being split up by in-fighting and resentment. The Tani settlements inland closest to the Bara were dying, amongst them was the village of Keda.

Already the Mara tribes along the coast of the Ta'in sea were reluctant to render aid to the Tani. Where in the past military and monetary aid were given freely to the struggling Tani villages in the aftermath of the annual raids, now what little help given is done begrudgingly and with great reluctance.

Many villages by the border were already abandoned, its peoples fleeing to the safety of the larger settlements along the coast. As a result, the Bara have started raiding even deeper into Confederation land, pillaging and instilling fear in the hearts of the Confederation leaders. The once close bond between Confederation peoples were breaking.

The new generation of leaders elected throughout the Confederation are fools, he mused. Could they not see that the border villages are the only things keeping the coastal settlements safe from the predations of the Bara? Refuse aid and not only are they weakening themselves, the raids would only deepen into Confederation territory. Also, the Tani and the Mara have always been heavily interdependent. The agricultural Tani supplied food and fed the coastal trade settlements while the Mara traded salt and the bounty of the seas, in addition to spices from the overseas colonies of the Karan Confederation. The Mara princes within the Karan Confederation would be short sighted to deny aid to the Tani as they would starve and fall without Tani produce.

Bah, he was resigned to the foolishness of the elected leaders. Only divine intervention would be sufficient to aid the failing alliance between Mara and Tani. Unfortunately, it appeared that his many prayers for the safety of his people along with those of the Tani to the One still went unheard.

Sighing, he shakily left the warmth of his furs and got to his feet. His movements slow and deliberate, straightening creaky old bones and straining muscles weakened by age.

Blast this affliction of age decrepitude, he cursed. If only I were twenty years younger, then I'd join the village warriors in putting up a fight. Then, not only would we repulse the damned Bara raiders, we'd chase them right into their land and reclaim our children.

A wave of sadness washed over him once again when he was reminded of the eldest of his three children, taken away in one such raid but seven years before. No doubt miserable and heavy with child, he thought and could only pray that the One preserve him. The Bara have much to answer to, and if - no, when - the One finally answers their prayers and delivers them to victory, he swore that the Bara raiders would answer fully for their crimes against the Tani.

No, better not to dwell overly on bitter thoughts. We must live in the present and the need to survive, he affirmed, reining and redirecting his thoughts to the present circumstance and needs of his village, his spiritual flock. The old shaman threw on his thick fur coat and felt head coverings, then his thick leather boots before woodenly making his way through the smoky interior of the cottage, heading towards the door. Slowly bending down, he strapped on the snowshoes made of a light wooden frame with an intricate lattice of rawhide, shaped in tear drop. Taking a deep breath to fortify himself before confronting the cold, he then opened the door and out into the village street.

Nestled in a small valley, tall and imposing mountains coated in a beautiful blanket of white ice and snow rose to the north and west of the village, providing a natural barrier against the strong winds and snows of winter. Along the east flowed the Tuar River that marked the border between the Karan Confederation and the land of the Prasa Tribe of Clan Bara. East of the river, the land was wild and untamed forest, a sharp and distinct contrast to the western side belonging to the Karan Confederation where wide and open swathes of land had been cleared for farming. At this time however, the coating of ice and snow blanketed the empty fields stretching far to the south and east ending at the river.

Life was stirring about him as the sounds of villagers going about their chores greeted him. Dark plumes of smoke rose from the small openings in the thatched roofs of the small homes of the village. From the thatched barns attached to each home came the sounds of the livestock.

The ice and snow that earlier coated the village was melting in the stream of rain and turned to slush. He hunched down and pulled his head wrappings closer about him before making his way towards the meeting house, all the while cursing and muttering darkly. The numbing cold snapped at his heels while the cold rain pelted him and he quickened his step, eager to get to the warmth of the meeting hall. Blight take you, he darkly thought in his heart. All these years and you have not given us any hope at all. Can you not give us any respite from the raids, Lord? Are you really there at all? I mean, is it really your divine purpose for us, your poor people to be victims at the hands of our brothers? Why forsake us when we have kept to your commandments? The shaman resigned himself to receiving nothing but silence from the One, as always ever since the beginning of the raids and the Schism of the Faith.

Halfway to the meeting hall, the old shaman suddenly stopped as he felt the world suddenly start to slip away. The biting cold no longer distressed him, a feeling of heavenly peace descending and laying a warm blanket of serenity and joy over him. Even the cold rain was no longer a torment to him, instead feeling like the warm summer rains in which he had ran and played in his distant childhood. All of his years and burdens slipped away and he straightened once again from the hunched over posture he had assumed from age and worry.

Finally, an answer at last, he thought grumpily though he kept this silent. "How may this humble old servant of yours serve Thee, Lord?" the shaman said in a strong voice filled with the clear timbre and vigour of his youth, though in the subservient tone of a supplicant. No more the thin, hoarse and reedy voice of before, he thought gratefully.

The piercing, tinkling of a child's laughter greeted his spoken words. ::Oh Shanel. Dear old, grumpy, cantankerous, rebellious Shanel. Thinketh thou that by not voicing thy tiresome plaints I knoweth not the inner whispers of thine heart? Thine groans and bitter thoughts. Thine frustrations and doubts, thine worries and sorrows?::

 

"Forgive me, Lord," the shaman hurriedly replied. "I shall strive not to be such a bothersome thorn in Thine side anymore, Lord."

::It matters not:: came an amused reply. ::Truly, I Chose thee for thine prickly nature as much as for thine faith, dear Shanel. Indeed, the time of thine liberation is at hand. Look to the east, from whence comes the salvation of thee and my peoples.::

Shanel turned his eyes towards the east across the Confederation border and saw a sudden flash of white light in the distance deep within Bara territory. "What is that, Lord?" he asked excitedly, the elusive and long absent stirrings of hope once again taking root in his heart.

::The instruments of Mine aid to thee. Tarry no more with words and send thine apprentice and one warrior to seek the means of thine deliverance. Concern thyself not with the means by which they shall deliver thee, for I shall guide them through the lands of the Bara.::

Cold, hard reality suddenly dawned on him and the old shaman's happy posture drooped once again. "But Lord, that is Bara land. To venture there would only spell out certain death. I have lost one son already. To send my apprentice would be to certainly deprive me of another. Is there no other way, Lord?" the shaman's voice took on a plaintive and mournful tone.

Only silence met his words as the godly presence of the One left him. All of a sudden, the peace and warmth abandoned him and the cold wind and rain drove him to violent shivers. "Master Shaman," a distant voice called out as well as the sounds of other villagers calling out in concern. Several layers of warm fur coats and blankets were wrapped around the frail old shaman as several villagers quickly led him towards the meeting hall.

Blessed warmth from a roaring fire met his trembling body upon entry to the meeting hall. The hall was a massive building located in the middle of the village. The largest structure in the village, it was supported by thick wooden beams. Its walls were made out of a thick layer of wattle and daub construction, coated with numerous layers of thick clay dried in the sun and whitewashed every year during the height of summer. Its thick walls formed an excellent barrier against the cold outside and kept most of the heat from the fire within. The few windows of the hall were shuttered tight and any openings were stuffed with straw and felt cloths to keep without the biting winter wind.

The loud voices of the old shaman's rescuers silenced the drone of voices in the meeting hall and a path was quickly driven towards the fire as the old shaman was brought before the fire. Rough hands swiftly pulled aside the wet layers of fur coats and blankets around the shaman as he was bared in front of the roaring fire. Once bared, his second son and apprentice shaman, Terin, came to rub warmth and life into the shaman's extremities, seeking to ensure that no limbs were lost to frost bite.

Concerned voices and gazes surrounded the shaman. However, only one strong voice rose above the rest and was heard by the shaman. "Of all the fool-headed stunts you have pulled in your life, this must be the most idiotic," the powerful voice boomed filled with reproach. Pasa, Peace Chief of Deka Village and Shanel's oldest and closest friend levelled a critical glare at the ragged old shaman, though it was filled with love and concern.

"Enough of that, Terin," said Peace Chief Pasa waving away the ministrations of Shanel's son and apprentice before taking up where Terin had left off and massaging Shanel's feet. "Go get some hot broth from the fire for our wool-brained shaman. Also, go get one of his vile herbal concoctions, would you. After all, our dear shaman deserves a good taste of his own medicine once in a while." This playful comment was responded to by smiles all around by villagers who remember all too often being forced to down the old shaman's herbal remedies.

Terin let out a muffled snigger which Shanel treated with a withering glare. "Yes sir," he said cheekily and hurried towards the large stew pot bubbling away with a nourishing meat and fish stew. Taking a clay bowl and a ladle, he scooped a bowl-full and presented it to his father.

Shanel gave him a grateful look and happily warmed his hands from the heat of the hot soup in the clay bowl. Terin then climbed up towards the rafters where Shanel hanged his herbs and ingredients, quickly gathering the required ingredients of marrow root and bitter leaf to make the tisane to fortify the body and ward off the cold and chills. Reaching the fire, Terin then filled a smaller pot with the herbs and water before hanging it on another hook above the fireplace.

"Maybe as punishment for his foolishness, we can withhold adding in any honey," Pasa teased which was again met with an indignant glare from the shaman.

"Mercy, Chief," said Elder Dain of the Deka Council and husband-mate of Peace Chief Pasa with a chuckle. "I'm sure our esteemed shaman has learned his lesson."

Pasa shook his head with disapproval and said, "Whatever were you doing standing out there in the cold? Have you a death wish? Do you want to deprive your sons not only with their eldest brother but also their father? Would you leave our village with a half-trained shaman and without the benefit of your experience?"

The shaman did not reply for some time, only taking small, tentative sips of the hot stew. Sensing that no reply would be forthcoming until the old shaman was good and ready, several of the other villagers resumed their conversations from before they were interrupted. Shanel listened to the drone of voices, most of which revolved around discussions of the year's crop and plans for a new irrigation system to be built.

In one corner of the hall sat a group of twenty eight brawny young men. Amongst this group sat their ringleader, Dimar e Pasa el Dain - the son of Chief Pasa and his birth-father Elder Dain. This small group was the pitiful entirety of the village's warriors. No match at all against the Bara raiders who live and breathe war and bloodshed. They sat discussing morosely the village's chances of defending against the raids. The sad reality was that the best option for the continued survival of the village and the Tani has always been submission and meeting the demands of the raiders.

Thinking of the One's words, Shanel resolved, not this year. This year, we fight. After all, the One has already assured me that we would be free of the annual raids. Suddenly, feelings of shame welled up within him when he thought of the plague of doubt and selfish concern for his son at the expense of the Tani Clan as a whole. No. Terin has to go and obey the One's command to seek our people's liberation. Indeed, it is his duty to do so. Buoyed with new-found faith and hardening his heart, he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the villagers in the hall.

Chief Pasa noticed the serious expression in the old shaman's face and realised that Shanel was about to make an important announcement. He raised his voice in a booming call for silence. Silence filled the hall as every villager watched with curious expressions on their faces.

"No," said the shaman with a thin voice and a weak shake of his head. "Had a vision from the One."

Even though the shaman's declaration was weak, it was heard by everyone in the hall and was met with startled gasps and rapt attention. Divine visions and prophecies were rare enough and in these troubled times were all the more anticipated with great enthusiasm.

Before the shaman could continue with his account of the vision, Terin approached with a mug of the steaming hot tisane. "Thank you, Terin," said the shaman with an appreciative sigh, taking cautious sips of the drink. It was bitter even though generously sweetened with honey and he drank with great reluctance, before continuing.

"The One said that the end of our suffering at the hands of the Bara is approaching. He has delivered to us the means by which we can obtain this liberation, though it is up to us to seize it and make good this opportunity."

"Good news, then," cried out Chief Pasa happily. The hall erupted into elated talk and hope.

"However," Shanel's continued though this was not strong enough to be heard above the loud din of joyful chatter. Chief Pasa once again shushed the villagers and the hall fell into silence.

"However, we have to send my apprentice shaman, Terin along with one warrior on this quest to free our people." Not wanting the hall to burst into loud conversation again, he quickly continued, "They must travel East to the lands of the Bara where the One shall guide them to our salvation." After this, the shaman lapsed into restless contemplation.

The hopeful atmosphere of the villagers died immediately upon hearing this announcement. It was common knowledge that any who venture into Bara lands would forfeit either their liberty or their lives for none who have done so have ever returned to recount the act. Despair once again filled the hearts of the villagers and the hall broke out in loud voices, for surely any endeavour in the heart of Bara territory would meet nothing but dismal failure.

*****

- Terin -

 

Terin's froze with fear upon hearing his father's words. Surely he must have heard wrongly. He had always been a less adventurous soul, having never ventured far away from the village barring only to collect the medicinal and magical herbs necessary for the village's use. Even then, he rarely strayed far from the familiar forest and hills around the village. The only times he travelled far from the village would be during the annual Gathering at Lake Karan when every village and settlement of the Karan Confederation would send their chiefs, elders and shamans to elect the year's High Peace Chief. Even then, he had travelled along oft-used trails and in the safety of large numbers.

The One must be mistaken indeed. There was no villager less worthy or capable than he to set out upon this quest.

Terin readily acknowledged this shortcoming of his, knowing his own limitations. Preferring to stay in the village, he was most comfortable assisting his aged father and master, learning the Knowledge - that is, the histories and legends of the Tani, along with the other skills and functions of the office of shaman. Not only spiritual advisor and teacher, the shaman kept the tribe's Knowledge, provided healing and medical treatment, and perform the religious rituals of the Faith.

Not to mention serving on the village Council of Wise Elders and the Karan Shamanic Council. In these capacities, the shaman was an invaluable part of the Kiar Peoples. As such, the shamans rarely left the villages except to attend the Gathering.

Not only does travelling east mean weeks, if not months of hard travel, it would be through wild and untamed forests filled with many predators. This would be like a blind man fumbling in the dark. The Tani have never dared brave entering Bara lands. There would be neither trails nor maps or guides, nor was there any known purpose or goal for this quest as the One had not specified in the shaman's vision what exactly they would be seeking. And one can never forget the threat of the Bara hunting parties, of course.

To make matters worse, the One had also specified that I would have to be accompanied by only one warrior. Knowing the annoying persistence of the incorrigible Darim, son of Chief Pasa, surely he would insist on being a party to this quest. Though the strong, well-formed young man was indeed physically formidable, Terin had always had a strong aversion to the Chief's son. Darim had always enjoyed constantly pestering and tormenting him especially throughout their childhood. Bold and daring, Darim revelled in taunting Terin for his smaller physique and weaker condition and his less adventurous nature. Thinking of the superb specimen of Kiar, his eyes could not help but stray to give an appreciative glance of the awe-inspiring presence and body of the older and more worldly Darim.

Even in the meeting hall, Darim could not refrain from mocking him as Darim gave Terin a smug wink when he caught Terin's gaze on him. Intolerable man, Terin groused. Terin quickly averted his eyes and tried but fail to suppress the blush that came to his cheeks, his face breaking into a scowl.

However, his thoughts drifted to his poor elder brother, Kirin who was captured in one of the Bara raids. Shame welled up in him as he thought of the necessity for him to undertake this quest, especially if the outcome would mean peace and safety of his fellow villagers. No more rapes and impregnated villagers, no more hunger, no more kidnapped children lost and mourned for. Perhaps if they succeeded, they would even be able to help rescue his brother along with the many others taken captive.

Suddenly, he could no longer countenance not fulfilling the vision his father had received from the One. No, he would not be able to live with himself should he sit at home safe in the village without attempting to help his village and the Tani Clan.

Despite the fear and doubts eating away at his stomach, he summoned his courage and resolve. Drawing his fingers to his mouth, he let out a sharp, piercing whistle that cut through the cacophony and returned quiet to the hall. Every eye came to rest on him and apprehension returned to gnaw at the pit of his stomach. Before he would lose what little courage he had, he quickly stood on a table and shouted in his loudest register.

"I shall go," he shouted, though he was mortified at how shaky his voice was, belying his fear and anxiety.

"As shall I," came the loud voice of Darim.

Gee, what a great surprise, Terin thought sardonically. Of course Chief-Son Darim, master of all and centre of the universe must come with me. Whatever shall I do without him to torment me? He wanted to protest but could only reluctantly give a nod in Darim's direction. After all, no matter how irritating the young warrior, even Terin had to concede that there was no better warrior or companion for this journey. To be honest, he even felt a frisson of pleasure and relief that the strong and capable older warrior would be willing to accompany him.

"Wait, have you thought this through?" shouted a concerned and slightly distraught Elder Dain, fear for his son rising to the fore. "Darim, you are needed in the village," he hurriedly added, hoping to keep Darim safe in the village.

"No, aba," said Darim resolutely. "As a warrior, my place would be beside Terin. After all, someone has to protect our precious young apprentice shaman," the last was said with a smirk in Terin's direction.

Terin scowled at the taunt. Loathsome, intolerable fool, he thought with great annoyance. He continued determined to ignore the jibe at his expense, "We have to leave soon, then. Before the Prasa Tribe returns from their winter enclave."

Such was the migration pattern of the nomadic Bara Tribes. Before the first snows of the year, the various tribes of the Bara Clan would head towards a secret, hidden valley in which the tribe would settle down throughout the winter, living in their crude leather and felt tents. In these valleys, they would thus be protected from the worst of the winds and the snow by the surrounding mountains, as well as from any threats of feuding tribes who might wish to exploit the lax and weaker state of winter encampments.

In the spring, the nomads would leave their winter encampment and drive their herds towards the lowlands to seek new pasture for grazing of the cattle. The warrior hunters would then leave to hunt game from the surrounding forests. Only in the early autumn would the Bara tribes mount their deadly raids, seizing the loot after the Tani villages have gathered the harvest and hidden the necessary provisions of food and seed needed for the winter and the following year.

"I agree," Chief Pasa quickly intervened, cutting off his mate, Elder Dain's protests. Darim must protect what is his, he thought. Judging by the possessive looks he constantly aims towards Terin, the poor shaman-in-training has found a strong and stalwart friend, maybe even more, he mused. He continued, "I give my blessing to this quest. Terin and Darim have both volunteered to embark on this journey, free of coercion and undue force. Both are sound of mind and body and there is no reason against their venture."

Chief Pasa concluded this with a pleading look towards his mate who simply pursed his lips in disapproval. Nonetheless, he kept his peace though a worried expression took its place in his face.

"Indeed," the shaman quickly interceded before anyone could discourage and thwart the two boys, no, men he quickly corrected himself. Darim was already two and thirty years of age while his own son Terin was nineteen, both already past the age of manhood of eighteen years. No one without any just cause would be able to forbid them from leaving. Nor would any of the villagers, if their relieved expressions were any indication. Relief that none of them were to embark on the deadly quest intermingled with guilty happiness that there was indeed someone to perform the deadly task.

The shaman could only pray that they would succeed with the One's guidance. He felt terribly and frustratingly helpless, unable to do anything to help his beloved son, so sheltered and protected in the safety of the community of the village, safe. Darim had better take care of him, he thought. Watching the warrior's attentions towards his son raised his suspicions that more than friendly insults and rough housing was at play between both Terin and Darim. Ah, there is affection, he realised. With this knowledge, Shanel no longer felt uneasy in entrusting Terin's life and safety in Darim's capable hands.

*****

 

- Darim -

 

Three days after the vision and the decision to embark on the quest, all the preparations had been made to equip the young men on their tasks. The effort of readying both Darim and Terin was a village affair, with every household coming up to visit both the warrior and the young shaman respectively.

Every visit produced the necessary supplies and provisions needed for the arduous journey. Amongst these gifts were lengths of stout rope woven out of strong vines and the fibrous strands of the sasal plant's leaves, strong and hardy enough to help them traverse any of the treacherous rocky highlands that were a main feature of the Prasa territory. Thick and valuable felt robes and clothing lined with valuable furs were also provided to protect them from the lingering chill from the winter while providing a mostly impermeable waterproof barrier against the imminent spring rains. Wrapped in the broad leaves of the iniar plant, long-lasting travel fare was packed, from the nourishing flatbread made from the cereal grains of dum and li kernels, ground into a coarse flour and baked in clay ovens, to packages of hard cheeses and richly seasoned fish and meats.

Even his own warrior friends were coming to bid him farewell, speaking to him with a mixture of envy that they would not be allowed on the quest, but also relief that none of them would have to face the dangers it entailed. They produced several vials made of carved gourds of the deadly simila poison that would be used to coat the heads of the spear-darts favoured by the Kiar warriors. In addition, woven bags filled with dart heads and fletching that would be used to replace any darts spent were also given to Darim. The dart heads were made out of black itam stone, a hard stone that was easily carved and chipped into a sharp and deadly edge. Notches were carved onto the broad sides of the sharp head, allowing for iniar string to be used to attach the dart head to the shaft of the projectile.

Darim also met with Terin and the old shaman several times throughout the days, eager to steal glimpses of the young apprentice shaman. The prickly young Kiar simply interested him greatly. The adorable flushing of his cheeks in irritation, the amusing jabs and insults he plied Darim whenever he was provoked, and the brief slaps and pushes Terin would deliver him whenever he got too close to the young man. All this only seemed to inflame his affections and desire for the young shaman.

He recalled with great pride and admiration the way the young shaman had mustered his courage in resolving to attempt the task, despite being obviously rattled and filled with deep and profound fear. His shaky voice that threatened to break or fade into silence was stiff with determination. Such noble willingness to sacrifice his life and safety for others only affirmed his certainty of Terin as a mate to be bound with.

His attempts at flirtation to seek out Terin's attention and affection, which had been dismally fruitless did not go unnoticed by Shaman Shanel. Indeed, the old shaman simply exuded a pleased - though with great amusement, as if recalling his own clumsy efforts of courting - air of approval when observing the bumbling attempts at courtship that Darim tried to perform. This tacit approval from Terin's sire encouraged him to lavish even more attention on the lovely young man.

By the One, Terin will be mine by the time we return in triumph to the village, he swore to himself.

Terin was himself no less prepared as his sire the shaman seemed to pack as many packages of herbs and medicines in Terin's satchel bag made out of hardy paca hide. Along with the many medical supplies, poor Terin was inundated with a heavy barrage of advice and nagging that Terin accepted with graceful filial acceptance and patience that amazed Darim, though he felt a stab of pity for Terin's ears which should be falling off now from the endless talking to he received. The extent of this flood of nagging from the crotchety old shaman was even enough to drive Darim away from his own personal side-mission of the conquest of Terin's heart and love. As such, Darim would frequently flee from the shaman's home, though returning more often as he could only tolerate short bursts of the shaman's instructions.

On the day of their departure, they steadfastly made their farewells to their families and fellow villagers who had all assembled at the village gates to send them off. Summoning their courage, they set off on foot, both laden with supplies carried in bags and pouches strapped about their backs and shoulders. The coils of rope were hung about their shoulders and both carried long walking sticks to support their steps.

For protection, they had leather slings tied about their foreheads and a pouch of smooth river stones that they would be able to deliver these projectiles at the enemy. In every villager's boyhood, each child would be taught to use the slings for when they would herd their flocks, or for when Terin left the safety of the village to gather herbs.

In addition to his sling, Darim carried a quiver of eight spear-darts slung over his shoulder. Strapped to his belt at the waist with a leather thong was his asker, the common weapon of the Kiar. It was a simple but effective weapon prized for its versatility in battle. Made out of the dark, heavy heartwood of the lima tree, it had a knobby spur or outcropping at one end which would be used to cup the butt of the spear-dart. The asker narrowed to the other end which was wrapped in iniar thread to provide a firm grip on the weapon. The asker then served as a lever and effective spear-thrower, increasing the range and power of the spear-dart. Once a warrior exhausted his missiles, he would then close in with the enemy wielding the asker like a club to bludgeon an enemy to submission or death.

Thus prepared, Darim was ready to protect the object of his affections, Terin with his life, though he sincerely hoped it would not come to that. With that thought in mind, they crossed the narrow ford of the Tuar River which formed the border separating Prasa territory with the Karan Confederation. From here on, their lives and freedom along with that of their people would be in the hands of the One.

 

*****