Stormhaze

Chapter 6: Escape

The sun was at its highest as Gillien breathed in the familiar smell of the ocean air. Though he could still not see the blue waves, he knew they were closing in on the shores of Ryken. The past two days had continued without disturbance, without so much as a sign that the rebels were still alive. Therefore, equally hoping and believing the worst was past them, even Gillien allowed himself to lower his shoulders.

The dry arid forest was slowly becoming greener as the dozen men traversed across its flattened landscape. The pale trees, however, did not have round and tall trunks like most, but were almost entirely flat like a panel, with a slight curve towards the south. Gillien had seen these kinds of trees only once before, and figured their unique properties would be useful when they finally approached the sea.

He was just done telling Brodd the same story he had told Kilas when asked about his scar, when the Mizdraki general took out a small book from his vest. His medals still clung lightly as he walked, scribbling something down onto a blank page with a business-like focus.

"Another beast to my collection," he said, "now I know how to kill a black Bokon."

"A bestiary?" Gillien asked.

"Something like that."

"I didn't know you hunted."

"Animals? No ..." Brodd said, finishing the last few words and placing the book back into his vest. "Only a fool learns from his own mistakes. The wise man learns from the mistakes of others."

"So, based on what I told you, what did you learn?"

"The Bokon that attacked you was likely a juvenile. An adult would have killed you both easily; you know how big they grow. It is interesting that even a young Bokon could lift you up, however. I'll have to look into that."

Gillien chuckled. "You don't simply look into Bokons."

"If you want to survive the next encounter, then that's your only option. There is only one truth I know: Eventually someone or something is going to kill you, but only if you fail to kill it first."

"The Mizdraki teachings." Gillien said.

"The only true teachings," Brodd said, "as a general, I must know every weakness, every flaw of a man and creature, so that I can attack first and only once. This 'bestiary' that you call it, Kaz'rindun in my tongue, allows me to do just that. A man is only as good as his legacy."

"And what is your... legacy?"

"I have twenty children, and I shall have twenty more before the end. Everything I do here as a general, anything I achieve under Grand Arkon Kilas, goes to them. By the time their own wives and concubines produce my grandchildren, my house will be the greatest in Mizdrak. And I will become its governor."

Gillien's eyebrows shot up. He noticed Brodd's strange golden tattoo—the one shaped like a sun against his dark forehead, with several dots seemingly shooting out from it like a sun. With a quick glance he estimated there had to be twenty of them. Twenty golden dots for each child. And the big central one had to symbolize none other than general Brodd himself.

"You Mizdraki people are a strange bunch—deciding ruler based on the number of children."

"It makes perfect sense," Brodd stated, his voice suddenly showing a hint of anger. "He who has the most children, has the most to lose."

Gillien quieted for a moment, taking time to choose his words more carefully. "Who is governor of Mizdrak now?"

"Ciceron. I'll burn his house alive one day."