KAMAL, SHALLAN, KALAK
Kamal worked in the fields his whole life. Digging up weeds, and planting gothberries. Gothberries grew out of little buds. The vine containing the berry was a purple color. The buds often grew krax-stone when the plant was decaying. The berries themselves were thick, when mashed made a thick intoxicating malt. Gothberries have many uses. Children crack the small seeds, and drink the milk from inside. The seeds are nearly the size of a child's finger nail, and the bud that the berry grows from is almost the size of a large man's hand-span. A family of oak cids could ruin the field completely. Oak cids are strangely shaped, and annoying . Vight cids usually float around people's heads. Oak cids eat the roots of the bud. Any farmer in Stonegrang knows the pain of summer. The summer was the time oak cids came to Stonegrange. The farmers take a shard of celery covered in jam, juice and sugars to jam into the ground for oak cids to attach to, then pull out. Farmers Often do this four times in one field.
Kamal at the age of twenty was trained his life to farm. He was an expert now. Summer time rounding the corner Kamal readying his spine for the back breaking season. Kamal is the eldest of three boys of farmers. Tien, and Fath the younger. Kamal's father had died three years back. His mother was young, and beautiful. Her hair was dusted with flakes of gray in her normally dark hair. Her face was constructed firmly, and she bore a solid figure. Kamal never thought of his mother as attractive-respectively. She wore a loose silky green dress, her hair tied tight in three knots with a loose braid as a tail.
A band of horse drawn carriages-three precisely-rolled up to the City-Lords manor. A group of sloppy drunken soldiers slipped out of the carriages led by a sturdy well built Vight-Lord. Kamal, eighty feet from the sight could see the worry in the Vight-Lords eyes. His men clattered over the cobbles swinging fragile limbs. From this distance it was difficult to tell what the men were doing . Tien of thirteen years Rushed over to Kamal. "Do you see the soldiers?" He asked energetically. "I see them." Kamal replied. Ripping weeds out of the dirt.
Hours later it was dark. The soldiers had been out spending their chips and shards on only liquor and whores. The tavern owners loved when the soldiers visit. Kamal, as well as everyone else hated how rude and boastful they were. The soldiers weren't supposed to arrive until three more months. Kamal witnessed four soldiers, dirtied uniforms and ragged hair. One mans beard was stained. The soldiers leaned up against the walls, bottles of liquor in their fists. Kamal was done tending to the fields as the final sun was finished setting. He mad his way over to the tavern where the soldiers were posted. "What's your business here?" Kamal questioned the drunken men, not expecting to get an answer that made any sense. The bearded man spat at his shoe. "How do you think we're here?" the man said. "We're came on that there carriage." The man in the middle pointed east of where the carriages were parked. Kamal frowned. Okay stay calm they're drunk, they don't know what they're talking about Kamal thought to himself. The only smart thing to do was go into the tavern, and get information. The doors swung open with a clanking sound. "Kamal," Tath, the tavern owner started, "you don't wanna start drinkin' do ya? becase if you do I got somthin' for ya." Tath always spoke like a child. That's how the northern Arthren spoke. "No I didn't come here to drink. Do you know why the soldiers are here so early?" Tath's expression grew dark. "You don't know do ya?" Tath looked down with a smoother, slower and quieter tone. "City-Lord Yavanala recently passed away, and Vight-Lord Kalak has come to register the new City-Lord. He finds the highest ranked Arthren of Stonegrange, and elects him City-Lord. He his guards and escorts as well as a few soldiers who live here."
As Kamal kicked pebbles home his mind was displaying the stages of the soldier visits. The first stage was for the soldiers to celebrate, party, and drink for the first few days. In the next few days the soldiers would go home to their families, and stay in, hungover. Lastly the soldiers would get drunk again, and harass the streets of Stonegrange, and leave.
[ ╤ ]
In the morning the soldiers calm down, and stop drinking. Hungover, the soldiers are angry at everyone. It happens to every soldier. They change. The soldiers here looked especially groggy and sluggish. Kamal returned to the fields early. Pulling weeds and occasionally checking for oak cids. Kamal kept a thin capsule of white sugar, water, and juice-one small vile per content. His money bag full of celery. After five krax-stone rotted buds, seven sun baked buds, and two opened buds exposed Kamal finally ripped out a shard of celery drenched with cids like termites. More than usual, the celery was covered. When cids invaded the fields farmers usually pulled out ten to tweleve cids. Kamal gasped. This shard held hundreds. Where did they come from? Every time the soldiers visited cids came, it seemed. Their drunken breath attracts oak cids, but not gothberries Kamal thought. Tein was watching, young eyes grew larger. "Tein go get Jalana." Jalana was like a father to Tein and Fath. He taught the boys how to properly plant, harvest, and rid the berries of cids.
Jalana ran to Kamal. "What's the problem?" The sturdy man said facing Kamals back. "He didn't tell you?" Kamal asked turning to Jalana celery in hand. Built like a tower, Jalana rubbed his bearded chin. His expression darkened.
Late evening, clouds drifted blocking sunlight. Rain was coming. The buds rested on soft arc-soil. When wetted, the soil turned to thick slush. Trudging through arc-mud was like wading through a river shoulder high with tulkpaper. This was good though. Cids can't live in that environment. Worst case scenario, the clouds parted without rain. Kamal needed the rain. This was the worst cid infestation he'd ever experienced.
