Prince of Flames Chapter VI: Terror of the Marches

A new Chapter

At last Aganyú showed himself willing to step out from within his bedchambers. Hardly a man of action it had seemed in the first days since his release, he was to soon regain some measure of his previous strength his once lethargic, broken eyes now blazed with fire and purpose. This change in the man, struck father and daughter at once as the once almost timid Prince now gave regular commands. Mostly his orders involved food or what he might have need of, should he agree to escort them north.

His initial unwillingness to aid and assist them, was something that Uju had tried not to let irritate her, yet the moment he signalled his intention to travel with them even for a short time, she found herself elated. Certainly, she still found him repulsive and frightening, not at all the soothing figure that Kayode or even Kolwé could be when at last they persuaded him to speak with them, however if there was one thing she knew he was skilled at, it was fighting. Since she and her father had taken up residency in Fadaodi they had heard a great many tales, about the skill and barbarity with which Aganyú could fight.

This knowledge was enough to soothe even her idealistic father’s apprehensions about travelling north. The north as all knew was bandit-infested just as the rest of the kingdom was, since law and kingly authority had begun to break down, and the currency had become inflated and since the last year when a famine broke out.

“Famines are common,” everyone tended to say, morosely.

This fact troubled not only father and daughter, but also Aganyú who when he heard of this fact reacted with a dark frown, saying as he did so. “In my homeland, in the distant east famines were once common after my crown was usurped by Dragnar. Yet before then, in my grandfather’s reign there was never a year when a single man went hungry.”

“Your grandfather must have been a great man, and favoured by the gods,” Owalade remarked as they prepared their effects for their departure.

“A clever one who irrigated the whole of his realm, and kept much gold that he might trade what surplus he had, out of worry that his subjects might well starve if he were not careful.” Aganyú explained quietly, averting his gaze as he felt the full weight of his ancestor’s greatness. His grandfather and father had ruled wisely, had never stayed in any one place until old age overtook one and death the other, and had never done as he had.

The burden and shame that his anger had brought about, were more than he could bear even as he knew he must inevitably return to anger. It was all that he knew. He did not know how to live without it, not unless he had Charáji at his side, which was how he found himself asking of no one in particular; how was he to live until then? It was a query that he considered asking the likes of Kayode yet somehow doubted that the old monk could answer for him.

“He was,” He said quietly eyes downcast, “He and my father were as Atlas; holding up the kingdoms upon their shoulders, both of them strong and proud, and I threw away my inheritance time and again.”

“Such is the price of anger,” Owalade answered quietly, only to add, “I was not always the merchant you see before you.”

“Father!” Uju hissed at him.

“Oh tush Uju, I can speak of what poor fate has befallen us if I so wish,” Owalade snapped at her, whereupon he told their newfound friend, “I was once a royal butler. I knew all there was to run the Pharaoh of Deshret’s royal household. It was quite the glorious position; however I was thrown out of the palace, after I squabbled with one of her handmaidens. Pharaoh favoured the other party, and so I was reduced to trading. I learnt from that, anger does not always help you as at times it is best to swallow it or to be careful with it.”

“I see,” Aganyú said impassively, seeking to hide his true opinion of the fate that had befallen the man seated before him.

“You disagree.”

“I simply meant that-”

“I understand what you meant Aganyú, however it happens that my own anger while justified caused me considerable discomfort nonetheless, as it has you. So know O Prince there is another path for those of us greatest anger.” Owalade told him with no small amount of passion in his voice, which shook with such emotion as he spoke as to even pierce the heart of the man to whom he spoke.

Always, Aganyú had been hard-hearted. Feeling and sympathy for others had rarely come easily or naturally to him, so that he struggled then for words. Never before then had words failed him so completely and utterly. Such was his apprehension, his uncertainty of how best to answer even as he struggled to understand the wisdom that the other man sought to convey to him.

Most merchants he had learnt were not necessarily of a goodly character, same went for those officials who worked for a King or baron. And yet here was a merchant, one of those he had come to consider scum conveying to him wisdom that few others had ever given him.

Swallowing audibly, Aganyú replied earnestly, “I think I do understand, though at times anger can be necessary for a man to survive.”

“And thrive it is true, however only if he can keep it from consuming him entirely,” the older man replied with a weary sigh.

It took a moment for Aganyú to realize the old man spoke not to him then, but rather that he was speaking of himself and almost to himself about his past. He spoke of anger that had once consumed him heart, mind and soul so that Aganyú was given over to wondering about his strange benefactor.

He had at first thought him simply a peculiar old man, one prone to strange acts of charity and that he was also somewhat feeble, and simply doing whatever Kayode told him to. It was only now as he stared at him, and spoke with him that he realized this was not the truth. The truth was that the other man had lived his own life, experienced his own sorrows and made his own mistakes.

“No man,” the strange merchant carried on with a small smile at his amazed new friend, “Is born without some special circumstances, or without some great tragedies shaping and moulding him into what he is presently. All men are subject to the tragedies and sorrows of the world, and must either succumb to its madness or overcome it.”

Given over to wondering once more, about the old man, Aganyú pondered at some length the wise sayings of the merchant. He had never before thought to consider what words a merchant might have to say, having always been suspicious of them. And while he still mistrusted them, he was now of a mind to consider Owalade different from the rest, and to treat him as such.

If he were ever to reclaim the heritage left to him by his beloved father and grandfather, Aganyú wondered if he might not make Owalade one of his chief advisors. The man was like Kayode wise and special, so that the Prince after having pondered his words at some length nodded his head.

“Truly you have wisdom that I have never come across in all the time since my first exile from my kingdom,” Aganyú murmured quiet and contemplative.

He knew not what else to say and so fell silent, with his benefactor smiling earnestly, yet with a puzzled furrow to his brow. “How is it, Aganyú that you were ever so consumed by rage as to slaughter all those people? You seem entirely different as you stand there before me, from the monster that others have spoken of all month long!”

Aganyú had no answer. He did not wish to answer, for he was ashamed as he thought back to his father, to his usurper, to Loukas who had each of them, striven to help him. Though two of them had betrayed him, and he still held some hostility towards them, he knew also that he had spurned them and chosen at all times, rage.

When he considered it, he knew of only one answer; rage was easy, calmness and serenity difficult.

*****

They left not long after dawn arose on the third day after Aganyú had announced his intention to depart with the pair of merchants. Acquiescing to escort them north to the delight of Kayode, who pleased that they had at last helped to restore the Prince’s old confidence and strength back to him announced his own departure.

“I must extend my congratulations and my hopes for you all,” Kayode said to them as he offered up some small amount of silver coins he had. “Here you are Owalade, now do not refuse. This is my thanks, and the payment for your having assisted young Aganyú.”

“There is no need to pay for me,” Aganyú stuttered self-consciously.

“Yes there is, young Aganyú, but I suspect you shall soon repay us our kindnesses,” Kayode replied quietly, with a small smile on his lips.

Aganyú pondered those words, uncertain if he truly believed them. It was not that he had no desire to, to the contrary it was all he could hope to do with the time remaining to him. That and find Charáji of course however, he well and truly doubted that he might ever do so given that they had not only saved his life but had nursed him back to health where others would not.

It was the view of the young man that not all that he had done was wrong, only the murdering of the locals, anger itself may have led him astray but there had to be a reason for that. Or so he wished to believe, lest he should have done everything he had done in the past year for naught.

Thinking this as he helped to load the chart, tied it to the camel, and convinced the camel to pull the tarp covered cart out from the stable.

It was as he finished in this series of tasks that something struck him in the shoulder. Startled from his work of pulling on the truculent animal by pain biting him there, he leapt up fifty feet or so in surprise. The culprits or culprits it might best be said, stared at him defiantly.

No man or woman in the village could possibly have had the courage, to throw stones at him in such a defiant manner. And that was certainly true as he discovered; for the culprits were several children who glared at him, full of hate and seething anger.

Ignoring them proved difficult, as the shaken warrior focused his gave on the path before him and his feet on the road that seemed to beckon to him. He had come too far and wasted too much time, abed and had to find Charáji, he told himself.

Kolwé who sat in the caravan holding the reins of the horses, eager to press forward towards Ariluwa, and to put the southern kingdom behind him, even as he cast sidelong disdainful glances at Aganyú. Annoyed to find the warrior ignoring the hatred of those around him, and assuming a dignified countenance, so that Kolwé was uncertain how affected he was by those around them.

If the mage was divided in his attention, Uju was not. She was to focus the great majority of her attention upon his handling of the reins. Sharp-tongued and sharp-eyed the young woman was hardly a patience teacher, which was what she considered herself at that moment as they departed from the village.

“No, no, no you are not doing it right; you really must handle them with greater care!” She would burst out every few minutes, or she would say, “You should let the animals move about as they like with greater sensitivity for their feelings and nature.”

Eventually Kolwé lost patience and was to say to her, “Oh do be silent, I can certainly accomplish the manning of horses attached to a carriage!”

Ignoring their bickering, Aganyú still pondering the words of Owalade was less than interested in their endless bickering. He also felt burdened by the knowledge that his newfound friend, and beloved mentor of sorts Kayode had left ahead of them. The man had left without a single word of farewell earlier that day, so that Aganyú felt bereft in some manner.

He would have liked to have travelled with the monk, so that he might better understand the other man, and might fall back upon his wisdom. It was thus with a great deal of reluctance that he set out armed, with a sword purchased by the likes of Owalade, even as he scratched at his left arm, swatting away this or that fly. He suddenly missed the hauberks and armour he had worn in the distant east, so that his mood soured with each passing day.

“I shan’t understand why we could not buy me back, my armour,” Aganyú grumbled to those around him most of whom rolled their eyes.

“Now, now Aganyú, we could not afford such a thing. At the end of this journey, we hope to have armour properly forged for you,” Owalade replied from within the carriage, where he was dozing off.

It was a promise that offered no solace to the Prince then, who continued to grumble and complain for quite some time. His discontent great as it was, led to nothing more than a number of repeated promises that Edo was not far, and had some of the finest blacksmiths and artisans one could hope to find.

If it was not the flies and bugs that hovered about him that bothered him most, there were the innumerable merchants on that first day that passed them by. By nature a man with a relaxed air about him, Owalade preferred to travel slowly. Certainly he could be made to press forward, faster than any other man, such as when he had travelled from Deshret to the Kingdom of Hausen with Kayode. However, in recent days he had once again begun to prefer the more relaxed pace to travel.

It was his view that life should be enjoyed, so that he felt more and more adverse to risks, and to venturing out from his home. Born in Edo he had left at a young age for Deshret where he had made his fortune, so that he was of the view that he ought to once he made his last fortune see to marrying off his daughter.

Later he was to mention this notion to Aganyú after night had fallen, to which the Prince was to remark to him, “It would be your duty, though do remember that your daughter is a nag and is fairly sharp-tongued.”

This warning was one that any other man might have taken offense at, yet not Owalade. A man prone to always defending his daughter and seeing the best in her, he was however not one to allow himself to be blinded by his affection for her, so as to not see her flaws. It happened that she was to choose that moment to complain bitterly about Kolwé.

Hearing this, her father was to bow his head in defeat and say to the man whom he had helped rescue, “She has taken after her mother, who was likewise sharp-tongued.”

Aganyú simply shook his head, adding with a not unkindly air though his tone was still rather gruff, “I would do what I could to convince her to mind her tongue.”

“Oh but it is so difficult, my Prince,” Owalade told him with a slight chuckle, “It happens that I am rather too fond of her, so that I cannot bring myself to properly reprimand her. Perhaps, this could be something you might assist with?”

It was considerable discomfort that Aganyú glanced towards the maiden in question, and realized just what it was that his friend wished for him to do. To reprimand Uju meant having to expose himself once more to her tongue, without losing his own temper. Something that appalled him and that he preferred to demure from, as his own great rage though temporarily far away, he knew might well rise up once more in him.

That first day ended with Kolwé volunteering for the first guard duty, with Aganyú unsure of the wisdom of entrusting such a task to him. It was thus, with more than a little suspicion that he grunted as they established their camp near a great rock that loomed high. It was a stone that was more than thirty-meters high, and twenty meters long, so that it cast a long shadow.

There were some small bits of grass to be found within this area that allowed for their steeds to eat and when Aganyú hewed apart a nearby cactus water poured out which the animals pounced upon. While the animals sought to assuage their thirst, Owalade and Uju were to begin cooking some of the rations they had brought along with some of the mutton bought in the southern village.

Kolwé having started the fire easily with the aid of his magic, was to then see to doing something that startled the Prince; he leant back against the stone, and pulled from his pack a large tome. Comfortable as he was, he was to devour the knowledge contained within the tome he held, with visible hunger. Hardly interested in him or the book he held Uju who had argued with him for hours, turned away now, with a moue of disappointment.

Her father for his part was to regard Kolwé with evident respect and appreciation. Hardly a literate man, he had however considerable admiration for those, who could read. It was thus for this reason that he was towards the end of an hour ask of the sorcerer, “What sort of writing is that? Is it a copy of the Hagios, passed down in Deshret and Orissia?”

Kolwé for his part when he heard the query was to burst out into a long chuckle that shook him from the smallest of his toes, all the way to the top of his body. “What? Such folly to think me a man who might read such works! No, this is but an old series of annals of the ancient era of our lands from the time of the first Pharaohs up through to our own present era. It is the finest of Cassius Benignus’ great works on the history of the world, and centers on Ifriquya.”

“What could a dead man tell us of any true significance?” Uju asked with a grunt of indifference as she threw a fur-cloak over her legs.

“Mind thy tongue girl,” Aganyú snapped startling the other two men, who stared at him not having expected him to speak up. He had stood apart, towards the edge of their camp as though afraid of joining them near the fire. “History is a noble pursuit, and its recording is a sacred art that has been passed down across the generations in only the finest of empires and kingdoms. Most of those who have recorded what one will find in such tomes, lived centuries ago at a time when men were wiser and greater than we are in the present, therefore some respect for thy betters.”

It was with a great nod of approval that Kolwé agreed with him. Just as Owalade did, though he seemed to be a little more uncertain of himself. A great lover as he was of great men such as Kayode, he was however uncertain of the importance those long dead. This much Aganyú could see.

He wished he could have argued better on this matter, as he took great pride in his own knowledge of his homeland and her lengthy history. He also knew the ancient songs and tales of the Earth-Elves, for it was only with their aid and friendship that his own people had established themselves in the lands of Zingium.

Just before he pulled up his own cloak up to his shoulders, and drew nearer to the fire, even as he kept his sword nearby, while his benefactors fell asleep he noticed Kolwé studying him. It was perhaps for the first time that he saw, in the other man’s eyes something approaching respect.

It was hardly a sentiment he returned, though he had a better appreciation for the man’s intellect, as he could see from his interest in the histories of the past a trait he had once admired in others. Loukas and Mubiru had similar inclinations, he remembered and though he felt somewhat sorrowful for their absence, he was suddenly to remember Charáji who knew much of history. The memory of her, and the sense of comfort that Kolwé’s interest brought him was one that was to later help him to sleep when it was the other man’s turn on watch.

*****

It was as they set out on the second day, from their campsite that for the first time in quite some time, there was a semblance of peace, of serenity within Aganyú, who studied the landscape all about him with evident curiosity. The land was sickly, this much he could see at once. The border lands’ were where a great deal of the crops was supposed to be grown and where there was supposed to be an active thriving commerce between the northern kingdom and the slightly larger southern one. Yet he could see no evidence of these things, could see no real hint of traffic as they crossed the sun-soaked, beaten earth.

There were no cattle to be found either, to his alarm. It was strange and bewildering how on the previous day they had seen a great many cattle-herders, yet on this day there was no hint of them. It was as though the space between the kingdoms was somehow cursed, as though everyone was afraid that just as they crossed them there might be a sudden explosion of violence.

The land seemed frightened also, as it had little of the greenness of the distant east from whence came Aganyú, so that he was left to wonder if these really were the most fertile lands as Kolwé claimed they were. The soil certainly appeared dry and when he descended from his horse to test the soil, he found it rich and dark brown, so that he could see that with a little irrigation or water there might yet be hope for this earth.

“The river changed course, with another part of it drying up just as more merchants began to move between the two kingdoms, so that the horses and camels devoured all in this place not unlike locusts.” Kolwé explained to Aganyú, with a mournful air about him, one that surprised his former captor. “It happens that this place was once green, not very long ago yet as said it has changed these past twenty years.”

A faraway look entered the bold eyes of the sorcerer-bandit, who was not to speak for some time, no matter how much Uju attempted to guide his focus back onto the road that stretched ahead, Kolwé however remained distracted.

“Leave the man alone,” her father told her sharply, after a time he added, “We all must contend with our own shadows, just as he does now.”

“But he is simply thinking and daydreaming whilst manning our caravan!” she protested irritably, not understanding her father’s wisdom.

“Look once more on the road that stretches ahead, though unpaved do you observe, how it goes on and on, is without changes or anything at all to attract a thoughtful mind!” Kolwé snapped at the young girl who puffed up with fury.

It happened that with a great curse she threw herself into scolding him with even more fervour. Neither of the two could resist attempting to gain dominancy over the other, their contest of wills one that served only to annoy her father who in time lost patience and demanded she leave Kolwé be. Aganyú for his part was to roll his eyes, and prefer to keep his peace all while keeping his eyes upon the road ahead of him and all about him.

He might have liked not only for the flies and fleas to leave him be, he began to distract himself with the frustration of being for the first time in some time bored. Aganyú was never bored on his prior adventure, through the lands of Zingium. It was upon those adventures when he had fought to reclaim the Kingdom that was his by right of succession, due in large part to the great trials that had presented themselves before him.

A part of Aganyú wished for a battle.

Hardly ashamed of this thought, he was to however swallow his frustration, and at last admit to himself that he truly did miss his old friend Loukas. The youth had a tendency to whilst on the road, singing alongside Mubiru great songs to entertain and distract their friends.

It was with a sigh that the Prince took to mumbling and whistling one of the songs, or at least he sought to do so, if in a quiet manner.

Hearing him it happened that Kolwé tiring of the endless arguments with Uju was to say to him with a sidelong glance. “What is that tune? I have never heard you sing before, is it from your homeland?”

Aganyú had not expected curiosity on the part, of his travelling companion given the man’s steadfast hostility towards him. Stumbling for words, for several minutes he was to at last sigh and admit, “It is a song that one of my friends from the east once sang.”

“You had friends from whence you came?” Uju queried incredulously, wherefore her father threw her an angry look.

“Uju! Some respect for the Prince!”

This was enough to silence the girl, who reluctantly did as bidden though not without several dark looks in her father’s direction. Aganyú for his part, paid her no further mind as he contemplated the past with some difficulty.

It was true that he had had friends at one time, he had been harsh but it was to reclaim his crown and liberate Zingium from the likes of Dragnar. Certainly, some such as Loukas had turned upon him; however his own anger at the realization had turned more than one soul away from his cause.

It was for this reason that he blamed him, hated him and still at times wished him harm. Aganyú could not tolerate betrayal. Especially from a man, he had considered as a brother to him, and in the way of the death of Mubiru, so that to him it was Loukas he most thought of.

It was thus, with this in mind that he considered Uju’s question. That of whether he had ever had any friends, so that it was with a start that he realized just how lonely his life truly was.

“Still though, I should very much like to know the song,” Kolwé admitted with a curious glance in the prince direction, “Because of how you never speak of your homeland or its inhabitants.”

Aganyú thought about those words. He disliked them. Not because they made any implications about him as they brought back a great many memories. Memories of both harder times but also better ones, he did not much care to remember.

And so it was that with a great deal of reluctance he began to sing. It was with a start that his companions stared at him, none of them not even Kolwé having known or come to expect how well he could sing. Not only did he sing the song in his own native eastern tongue, but when he had finished it, he began to sing it in theirs so that they better understood it. It was only Kolwé who understood the song in Aganyú’s eastern tongue, learned as he was, whereas Owalade and Uju knew only the tongue of Deshret, Hausen and Orissia.

“By the sea she waits,

Bound there by the fates,

Vast the lakes,

Upon which she waits,

At the mercy of he who hates

All in his realm,

Long is her hair,

Dark yet fair

Is her face, the stars’

Smile down upon,

Many the songs spread far,

And up along

The road, of her lonely vigil,

Begun decades back when men strong

In nature and with many a sigil,

Sought her defence,

Her dress long and great his offence

When he took her up and didst fence

Her up from the world, and her friends lives he didst dispense.”

When he had finished, he fell quiet. All there was, was the silence of the wind and of the land of the Marcher-lands that separated the two kingdoms from one another.

The first to speak was Kolwé, who uttered reluctant praise for his singing and the song itself, “I must admit that I did not expect you to sing it so well. Though, I should think an Earth-Elf song such as the lay of Merialeth a great deal more appealing than this one.”

Aganyú felt his cheeks redden with fury, as his old temper flared.

It was however Uju who spoke out against the man seated next to her, “What do you mean? He sang superbly, and the song was truly a wonder to listen to, I daresay you have no great love in your soul for others Kolwé!”

“Uju do not be so quick to judge another,” Owalade muttered if only perfunctorily and reluctantly, when he saw the wounded look the bandit gave his daughter.

Grateful to them for their defence, even as he glared at the other man, Aganyú did his utmost to remember the words of Kayode even as he swore to later strike back against Kolwé. Quite how, he did not know, he knew only that the man deserved some measure of humiliation for his unkindly words.

It was when he noticed the burning enmity in the eyes of their guard that Owalade, sought to heal the breach that had had begun to be birthed between Aganyú and the sorcerer. “Really now, even you thought it a lovely song and that is all that matters, is that not correct Kolwé?”

Kolwé grunted. Reluctant to give praise, dogged as he was by his prior dislike of Aganyú, he was to however fall silent once more. Pouting for he did not much like to be regarded as the guiltier of the two of them, for to his mind there was still a great deal resentment towards the Prince for having slaughtered a great many of his friends.

Yet if this flame was hard to stamp out, it did not burn quite as fervently or brightly as it had in the past. It was rather more of a candle-flame that had greatly waned in comparison to the great inferno that once was.

The song though charming as it was, passed from memory the moment that Uju saw in the distance a large group of tents in the distance. Excited she was to point at it, crying out, “Oh do stop there, they might have water! We really must stop!”

“Yes, yes I know,” Kolwé grumbled and reluctantly he moved to oblige her.

“I have a good sense of that place, the first in some time about any place,” Uju declared to her friends and father, each of them smiling tolerantly. Her father soon was inclined to agree with her, while the sorcerer rolled his eyes and Aganyú hardly interested simply trailed after the caravan.

*****

Little could they have guessed at the danger that lay within the desert that now stretched, between the two Kingdoms’, as it was a danger that few even knew of. A danger that had rooted itself into place not unlike how a worm might burrow its way into an apple, a danger that some had begun to become aware of. It was why there were so few travellers on the road there, so few men and women taking to the road. It was also why this place was known as the ‘Death Barony’, and the reason to why, was a mystery to the frustrated Kings who hated to hear of the problems that haunted the caravans that travelled from Marche land to Marche land.

The reason though was not a mystery to the men of nearest to that place. The reason it was not a mystery was a simple one; it was they who were preying upon the local caravans.

Wicked and greedy, the men were vagabonds who had journeyed into the land that existed between the kingdoms years ago. Some in another life were warriors, others thieves and still others farmers. All were dispossessed and had established themselves as the only stop-over location between the two states.

They ranged far and wide, moving from place to place between them and at times between the other southern Kingdom Ife, due to their fear of being caught by the Kings and their barons. It was by moving from place to place, they held the influence and the force that they did in the lands between the Kingdoms, ravaging everything they came across, and delivering such a magnitude of pain and sorrow to all around them that they came across.

It was for this reason that when they observed the richness of the caravan, of the clothes of the merchant and his guards that they were to watch them with greedy eyes. Certainly they could see in the eyes of the warrior with a sword girded to his belt, a warrior of some merit.