"Foreign Devils" by Emma-Jane C. Smith

The harcat eyed Arabu. Then with a flick of her tail she pounced on her accuser, past the sabre. Laughing, Arabu fell to the ground and began to playfully tussle with her loyal pet.

“Oh Arabu!” came a voice, as the door opened. “Come now, you must prepare for today. You have much to learn before the guests arrive on the morrow!”

“Sorry, Naru.” Arabu replied, soberly getting to her feet. Arebella took the opportunity to escape under the bed.

“I wonder why I do not ask your father to give me a different job. The task of looking after you is the most work anybody does in the walls of the keep!” Naru jestingly ranted.

Arabu allowed Naru to perform the usual and yet tedious task of dressing her. She fidgeted, impatient to be doing other things.

“Oh please hold still Arabu!” Naru, her servant, complained as the child moved about.

“Are you done yet? I want to go and see Timanuk before breakfast!”

“I’m almost done! But I still have to do your hair.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I gave it a brush before bed last night. It will do for today.”

Naru sighed, “Alright then, but if your father complains to me about your unkempt state, there is no one to blame but yourself!”

“Thank you, Naru!” Arabu said, and then just as the last button was done up on her blue dress, she ran for the door, Arebella in close pursuit.

“Timanuk!” Arabu called loudly to catch her friend’s attention. The old wrinkled man turned to her, smiling. He sat in his study room like he usually did. Old parchment surrounding him, many from wonderfully strange far off places that Arabu could only dream about.

“So what have you been up to today, Terror of the Wide Lands?”

“Just saving the land from a fearsome traitor who consorted with our enemies.” Arabu told him smugly.

“Ahh,” the old man nodded knowingly, “And what secret whisperings did your Arebella tell them?”

“She told them about our plans to visit the far reaches of the Desert Mountains to ask the ghosts who live there for aid.”

Timanuk’s smile widened, and he reached over to pet Arebella who was comfortably draping herself over her owner’s shoulders.

“So what do you wish to learn this morning?” Timanuk asked, sitting back and resting his arm on his desk.

“Teach me about the people who will be coming to greet us tomorrow. Are they nice people? What are they like?”

“I know little about them, Child. I only know that it is said they possess something called majic.”

“What is that?” Arabu asked, her eyes widening with eager anticipation.

“It is something that allows them to change things. They don’t have to lift a finger and they can raise a sword from the ground. They can even call up spirits from the earth to speak to.”

“How did they get this majic?”

“Nobody knows Arabu, some say they were born with it, others say their strange deities gave it to them. Some even whisper that they found something in the earth of their own land, and it was that which gave it to them.”

“So is majic good or bad?”

“Majic is as it is made to be. It depends on the man or woman who uses it.”

“Do you think I could get some of this majic, Timanuk?”

“I don’t know, but it is a strange thing, Child, and not of our own land. You should not seek it out.”

“Yes, Timanuk.” Arabu replied, somewhat crestfallen.

“Now, looks like you have not had the morning meal, Child, come, let us go gorge ourselves!”

At his words, Arabu’s smile returned and she followed the old man to the servants’ dining hall.

The next day, Arabu watched the procession of foreigners from the balcony with Arebella. They were both dressed to meet these strange visitors from across the Great Waters. Arabu wore a red dress and a red bone crown entwined in her hair as it was befitting the daughter of the highest clan ruler. Arebella wore three gold hoops on her long tail and had been painstakingly combed from her pointed ears to the tip of her tail.

“Look Arebella! I wonder who is riding in that carriage. It must hold the ambassador from that land, far to the east. I have heard it said that they had to travel far over the seas to come here. I would like to see a different land one day. And I shall take you, of course, as my ambassador to the people who live there.” Arabu smiled, her eyes sparkling with the strange new idea.

The procession continued to pass below them; there was a sea of coloured flags held by warriors who wore strange armour that shone painfully golden in the sun. When finally, there was no more to be seen, Arabu left the balcony and walked to another part of the large keep to see if she could spy the newcomers from a closer vantage point.

Arabu made her way to the courtyard behind the kitchens with Arebella in tow. On her way, she was startled by a voice behind her

“Hello, Child,” he said, “My name is Mage Zacad.”

Arabu turned to see one of the strangers standing behind her. He held a long wooden staff, which had outlandish lizard’s head at its tip, carved into the wood.

“What is your name?” he asked her inquisitively.

“I am Arabu, daughter of the clan leader,” she told him proudly.

“My apologies then, for not addressing you properly, my lady.” he replied with a particularly odd smile on his face. It was as if he was amused by something only he knew about. “I was not told that the clan leader’s daughter was so young. May I inquire as to your age?”

“I have seen five celebrations of the renewed year,” she told him smugly.

“Ahh,” the mage paused for a moment, thinking before speaking aloud, “We had hoped to marry you to our own prince but I believe now age will be a concern.”

“If that is the arrangement then I will,” Arabu said, and she saw him jerk as though startled by her words. The mage didn’t realize he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. Arabu continued, “It does not matter what age I am. It will benefit our two great lands regardless.”

“You have a strangely mature mind for one so young,” he told her.

“You will understand more about that when you are educated in cultures and traditions of our land.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied, smiling oddly again.

“Do you require someone to take you to see my father, sir?” she asked.

“I would be most flattered if you would show me the way, my lady.”

Not overly impressed with the foreigner who seemed to be hiding secrets from her, Arabu led him to her father’s room of office. Today the strangers would meet her father and after the setting sun, he would meet the rest of the clan chiefs.

“Your Leadership,” Mage Zacad began, “I do believe that your daughter speaks with a great wisdom and maturity, especially for one as young as she.”

“She has been blessed by the tradition of the Knowledge Passing. She may be only of a small age but her mind also holds the knowledge of my mother, our former clan leader.”

“I am quite intrigued, how does this occurs?”

“I can only tell you that my mother, Rulella, passed her mind to my child on her death bed. It is rare that one exits the world of the living as another enters it. We thank Orduca for his offering.”

“Strange indeed,” the mage replied his eyes glazing for a moment. “Now to other matters…”

Arabu listen to Mage Zacad as she sat beside her father around the circular Table of Allies. The mage and other lesser men sat opposite them. Arabu remembered little of the dull conversation; she occupied herself instead with petting Arebella.

“Do you wish me to show you some of my magic?” the mage asked Arabu as he sat beside her at dinner. All the lesser clan chiefs of her tribe had come, having made long journeys from their parts of the Wide Land.

“I would like to very much,” Arabu replied, responding eagerly to his question. Her face reflected her keen interest.

“Are you sure that is wise?” Baratu of the Fifth Wide Land asked, hearing the proposal. He, like the rest of the clan leaders, was very cautious about things he knew little of.

“Trust me, Leaders. I will not harm anyone.” the ambassador responded. He then turned to Arabu and showed her his hand. Suddenly it began to glow with a strange and somewhat eerie colour. Purple, the colour that boded ill for her people.

The mage moved his glowing hand forward and touched it to her forehead. Instantly, the glowing dissipated into little flying things that Mage Zacad called butterflies. Arabu tried to catch them but they soon vanished into nothing.

“That was wonderful!” she exclaimed, eager to see more.

“It was indeed interesting,” her father commented, looking slightly disturbed at what he had seen.

The meal continued with no more shows of magic.

“Yes, sir?” a man in a dark shroud whispered. They were both hidden in an enclave in a dark alleyway near the keep and the mage summoned his magic to make sure no one could eavesdrop.

“I want you to sail tonight on the midnight tide, and take word to General Horus that his troops will be needed. His ship is stationed in an inlet further down the east coast. You are to also give him this letter which details what I have already learned and the strategic manoeuvres I believe will be the most beneficial to use in our attack.”

“Yes, sir,” the other man replied. Parchment passed from one man to the other before they departed silently as if they had never been there.

The next morning Arabu wandered out to the visitor’s barracks where the foreign warriors were being housed. She found most of them out on a small dirt patch. Rough shouts and laughter grew from the centre of the crowd. Their clothing was plain, and Arabu was disappointed to see they were not wearing their shiny golden armour. She meandered her way through the mass of men.

Arabu watched two soldiers as they fought together. The rest of the men stood watching, placing bets and cheering for their favourite comrades. Wooden swords thwacked against each other, their muscles tensing as they dripped with sweat from the rigorous exercise in the intense desert heat.

Then suddenly, a final blow landed, the larger of the two brought his practice sword down on his opponent’s head. It was a blow that, if a real sword had made it, would have killed the man.

The victor let out a roar; punching the sky with his strong arms. Above the screams of the crowd, he issued another challenge.

“Who will fight me? Who is brave enough to face me?” his rough voice asked heatedly while his eyes searched the crowd.

The mind of Arabu’s grandmother, Rulella, rose to the surface, and her consciousness took over the small girl’s body.

The foreign warrior laughed as he saw Arabu step forward.

“You, Child? You wish to face me?” he laughed, clearly amused. “Go home to your mother little girl, go and play with your dolls.”

“You will wish you never said that.” Rulella told the man. The man hesitated for a moment. The child’s voice was unusual, not what he expected. It was a matured woman’s melodious voice, and yet it was hard with determination.

Making up his mind, the man lifted the sword and swung it playfully at Arabu. There was a clang as it struck the blade of a small knife in the child’s hand. He hadn’t even seen her pull the knife. Something uncomfortable shifted in his stomach.

“What is this madness?” the man asked, unable to believe the strange situation he now found himself in.

“Are you willing to fight me?” Arabu asked.

“I will go easy on you then, little girl, but I’ll not be responsible for the tears you’ll shed!”

The men circling the unequal pair laughed outrageously and wagers flew between the raucous soldiers. Only the mage, who had come to watch, placed his money on the child.

Rulella, still in possession of Arabu’s body, pocketed her small knife and took up a wooden practice sword, looking at it with distaste. She despised those who play-acted when they learned. She herself had been tutored with a sharp blade, which taught her the reality of battle.

Rulella took a fighting stance and waited for the overconfident warrior to do the same. As soon as he did, she came at him. Her small body made her agile and quick, though lacking in strength. This did not worry her; swordplay was never about strength.

She won the first strike, which landed with a reassuring whack to the man’s leg. She knew that it would leave a long red welt underneath his trousers. It caught him off guard, causing him to retreat back, away from her. She advanced again. This time his sword lashed out first, his longer arms aiding him. Rulella dodged the bow, and caught him as he over-swung. He now had an angry welt across his ribs.

“Curse you, devil child!” the man said angrily, growing more frustrated as each of his attempts to hit her failed.

“Time to do some dancing Sorata’ta!” Rulella laughed, as she dodged quickly. Only one blow managed to graze her, one that didn’t even make a mark as it brushed past her right shoulder.

“Time to end this!” she cried, and with swift movements, she caught the man’s foot with her practice sword, causing him to trip. As he fell heavily to the ground, she pointed her sword at his throat.

“Do you surrender?” she asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

The man, beaten and angry, nodded his head. Then he stood and left the clearing in silence. Rulella threw down the wooden sword and looked at Zacad. He stood there simply looking at her, his winnings in his hand. After a moment she too turned and left in silence. The crowd of men parted for her as they whispered about what had occurred.

Arabu walked back to her room in the keep. Timanuk met her along the way, as word of her amazing victory was already spreading rapidly. He gave her a Moondrop, a blue flower. It was the only flower that grew well despite the heat of their desert land.

“This is for Rulella. I always used to give one to her after a victorious battle. She reminded me of this beautiful little blossom, for she was resilient to all enemies, like this small flower to the heat of the sun.”

“Thank you, Timanuk,” she said smiling. She breathed in its scent deeply. It was her favourite flower.

Later that evening, as the clan chiefs met to discuss more proposals of a treaty, the mage asked the clan leader a question.

“What does Sorata’ta mean?” Mage Zacad inquired.
<br>“Strange that you heard such a word, Ambassador. It is generally not used in days of peace. It means a Kew’icki that thinks it can fly. It is a bird of our land that has wings that are too small to allow flight. It was a term for men who were overconfident and somewhat foolish. I can remember that my mother used it on occasion. It was her favourite word to use against her enemies. May I ask where you heard it?” <br><p> <br>“Your daughter, Leader.” <br><p> <br>“Ahh… then she is rising again.” <br><p> <br>“What do you mean by that, Leader?” <br><p> <br>“Oh nothing, nothing, do not trouble yourself over it. Now, shall we talk further about a treaty between our lands.” <br><p> <br><center> <br>*        *        *        *        * <br></center> <br><p> <br>The letter arrived on the deck of the Cutter, as it lay hidden in a small inlet. The messenger bowed and passed the General the note. He scanned it briefly, and a smile appeared on his face, showing gaps in his gums where teeth used to be. <br><p> <br>“It is good that we will war against these savages. They have much we can plunder.” He rubbed his bushy beard thoughtfully. <br><p> <br><center> <br>*        *        *        *        * <br></center> <br><p> <br>A shadow crept into the clan leader’s chambers. Only the light of the moon through the window gave any light. There was a creak as the clan leader shifted in his sleep. The shadow paused. When he was sure it was safe, he crept closer and closer, until he stood only inches away from the slumbering form. Purple sparks flew from the assassin’s fingertips, seeping into the sleeping man’s heart. The magic’s poison would work slowly and painfully, but in a few hours, he would be dead. <br><p> <br><center> <br>*        *        *        *        * <br></center> <br><p> <br>Arabu woke suddenly during the night, her heart pounding. She sensed something was amiss. Quietly she crept from her bed, careful not to wake Arebella, and made her way through the keep. She found the person she sought snoring underneath heavy sheets despite the heat. <br> <br>“Timanuk!” Arabu whispered urgently, “Are you awake?” <br><p> <br>The snoring stopped suddenly. <br><p> <br>“Yes, I am now, thanks to you, Child. What are you doing up?” Timanuk asked gruffly, sitting up. <br><p> <br>“I have this feeling. I think something’s wrong. Do you think me silly?” <br><p> <br>“No Child, your grandmother got the same sort of feelings. You must always listen to them, it may save your life!” He was suddenly awake and alert. <br><p> <br>“Then what are we to do?” she asked, wringing her hands anxiously. <br><p> <br>“Let’s go and make sure everyone is where they should be. Come, follow me.” <br><p> <br>They crept along the dark corridors, finding many a person snoring; even a guard on duty outside her father’s room was sound asleep. <br><p> <br>“Wake up, man!” Timanuk exclaimed, shaking him. He did not move. “There is definitely something wrong here Arabu, and I’m going to find out what. Orduca help us!” <br><p> <br>Timanuk quietly entered the clan leader’s room, but he could make little out in the darkness. Suddenly, he heard a noise, a faint footstep over by the bed. Timanuk leapt forward quickly. He saw a figure stand on the balcony for a moment, the moon casting a silhouette, and then the man was gone. Timanuk raced to the balcony but he could see no one, not even on the street below. <br><p> <br>“This is the work of devils!” Timanuk growled. <br><p> <br>Arabu hurried over to her father and shook him awake. <br><p> <br>“Father! Are you alright?” she asked anxiously. <br><p> <br>Her father’s eyes opened slowly. <br><p> <br>“What are you doing here, daughter?” he asked, confused. <br><p> <br>“There was a man in your room. Did he hurt you?” she replied, clinging to her father fearfully. <br><p> <br>“No, I’ve just been asleep. It’s alright, my dear Arabu.” he held her, feeling the desperation of her hug. <br><p> <br>“I thought you were dead.” Arabu muttered into his sleeve, tears prickled her eyes but she wiped them away in a show of bravery that she certainly didn’t feel. “I love you father.” <br><p> <br>“Well, I’d best set watch over you myself, My Leader,” Timanuk told Arabu’s father as he walked over toward the bed. “I’ll just take Arabu to her own bed and I’ll be back to stand guard.” <br><p> <br>“There’s no need for that, Timanuk, she can sleep in here with me.” Arabu’s father interjected. <br><p> <br>Arabu looked at her father with a grateful smile. He moved over for her and she crept into the bed, nestling comfortably up beside her father’s larger form. <br><p> <br>“I will be just outside, My Leader.” <br><p> <br>“Thank you, Timanuk, you saved my life.” <br><p> <br>“It is Arabu you should thank, for she was the one that woke me up. She thought something was amiss.” Timanuk explained. <br><p> <br>Then Timanuk smiled and left, leaving the precious pair to sleep in peace. <br><p> <br><center> <br>*        *        *        *        * <br></center> <br><p> <br>Dawn woke Arabu as the light streamed through the window, falling upon both their sleeping forms. Arabu stretched. She had slept deeply but recalled nightmares, brought on by fears of losing her father. Arabu turned to her sleeping father’s form, and noticed how pale he looked. She bent over to kiss his cheek. It was cold. Alarmed, she shook him. <br><p> <br>“Timanuk!!” Arabu cried out urgently, as she continued to shake her father. “He’s not waking up!” <br><p> <br>Timanuk burst into the room, wild-eyed. He felt for breath with the back of his hand against the chief leader’s mouth and nose. <br><p> <br>“He isn’t breathing, Child,” he told her, feeling the chest for a heartbeat against his hand. There was none. <br><p> <br>“Nooo!” Arabu sobbed, tears sliding down her face. She grasped her father harder and continued to shake him. <br><p> <br>“Wake up, Father, wake up! You must wake!” she yelled at him. <br><p> <br>“It’s all right, Moondrop,” Timanuk said trying to calm her, “Come with me.” <br><p> <br>Timanuk lifted her gently as she clawed the air, reaching toward her father’s body. <br><p> <br>“He’ll wake up, Timanuk! I know he will! Let me wake him!” she sobbed, her face contorted by grief. <br><p> <br>“Come, Child, there is nothing you can do for him now. He has gone to Orduca.” He held her tightly as tears of his own crept their way down his weathered face. <br><p> <br>Then grief turned to anger, which welled up inside her, calling forth Rulella’s spirit, which lay within her. <br><p> <br>“They killed my son!” Rulella screamed in rage. <br><p> <br>Rulella took over Arabu’s body and struggled out of Timanuk’s grasp. She ran back into the room and took the sabre that lay hidden beneath the bed. It had once been hers and then her son’s. Now, with her the death of her son, it had returned to her hands. <br><p> <br>“I swear by Orduca that I will avenge you, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood.” Rulella cut her finger with the sabre, and did the same to the departed clan leader. Then, with wild eyes and vengeance in her heart she turned to Timanuk. <br><p> <br>“Friend, we make war this day.” <br><p> <br><center> <br>*        *        *        *        * <br></center> <br><p> <br>“<i>Kiki Rathado</i>!” Rulella yelled as she lead her army down to the water’s edge where the foreigner’s ships lay docked at their city’s port. <br><p> <br>They flew down over the rise riding upon their law’athu and wielding sabres and lit torches. At her signal, the archers shot flaming arrows into the wooden ships. By their fiery missives, they hoped to send the devil’s vessels to the depths of the sea. <br><p> <br>Rulella drew her sabre from its scabbard; its metal blade glinted menacingly in the sun. <br><p> <br>“Revenge for our dead!” she called, swinging her sabre and diving into the throngs of the enemy’s ranks. <br><p> <br>Blood flew, spraying the bodies around them with crimson. Bands of warriors boarded the ships along the bay. They slew hundreds, but many of them were slain as well. The foreigners were prepared for battle, their golden armour glinting in the sun like devilish charms. <br><p> <br>As Rulella fought, she saw another ship sail into the bay, strange weapons mounted along its side. There was a bang. An explosion ripped through the centre of her warriors. <br><p> <br>“Secure that ship!” Rulella called, directing her followers to boats which they could use to board the larger vessel. As she, made her way to the boats she caught a glimpse of something from the corner of her eye. <br><p> <br>“<i>Kaliki’monature</i>!” Rulella screamed as she saw Zacad appear. “Die, you devil!” <br><p> <br>He threw bolts of lightning at her people. Arabu’s servant was among them. Rulella watched as Naru fell, the blade falling from her hand as she screamed. The sound echoed loudly in Rulella’s ears. She watched the woman fall, her eyes misted already from the strange powers that had just taken her life. When Rulella looked up she caught Zacad’s gaze. <br><p> <br>Angered, she galloped her law’athu towards him. But she never reached him. An arrow struck her in the chest, not far from her heart. Pain consumed Rulella. It was too much and she could not stop her spirit from retreating back into the depths of Arabu’s mind. <br><p> <br>Arabu woke suddenly lying on her back in a strange place. Noise surrounded her. She tried to sit up and felt a twinge near her heart. There was an arrow shaft! Blood poured from the wound, soaking her tunic. Quickly responding as she had been taught, Arabu took a scrap of cloth and held it tightly to the wound to staunch the bleeding. <br><p> <br>Light-headed, Arabu looked about. Zacad was walking towards her. She tried to stand but the world suddenly spun frighteningly. And then he was next to her, grasping her firmly by the arm. <br><p> <br>“No, stop!” she cried weakly, trying desperately not to faint. <br><p> <br>In response to her words Zacad picked her up and carried her through the battle to one of the ships that lay in the harbour. As soon as they were aboard, the plank was withdrawn and the sails were opened. They were leaving! <br><p> <br>Arabu fought Zacad with all her strength, kicking, punching, and even biting his arm. He uttered a quick curse and then she felt his majic wash over her. She could no longer move. He took her below deck, away from the noise of the battle, and lay her down on a hammock rigged to a high wooden beam. <br><p> <br>Tears ran down Arabu’s face. She missed her father and did not have Arebella there to comfort her. She lay back, hoping for sleep and dreams of happier times. <br><p> <br>No matter how Zacad tried, his magic could not save her. The wound was too close to the heart and she had lost too much blood. Sadly, he closed her glazed eyes and looked down at his fingers, which dripped with the child’s blood. <br><p> <br>“What has become of us?” Zacad whispered to himself softly, “That we should condemn a child’s father to the grave and then condemn her as well.” <br><p> <br>A lone tear trickled unnoticed down the mage’s face, dropping onto his bloodied hands. He knew that nothing would wash away his sins and it had taken a child’s death to show him that truth. <br><p> <br><center> <br>*        *        *        *        * <br></center> <br><p> <br>After the wreckages of the ruined ships and buildings had been cleared away… Timanuk sat at his desk, surrounded by parchments that dated back to the beginning of their civilizations. He took out the tooth of a giant harcat and dipped it tip into the ink that had already stained its ivory so many times before. <br><p> <br>Taking a deep breath, and brushing away a few stray tears that threatened to drown him, Timanuk began to write…. <br><p> <br><center> <br><i> <br>This is a faithful narrative of how the foreign devils came <br><br> <br>to our land under the guise of friendship. They sailed in <br><br> <br>mighty ships of wood, fearless of the many treacheries of the <br><br> <br>great sea. They came with blood in their minds and majic in <br><br> <br>their fingertips… And alas they took from us our clan leader’s <br><br> <br>child, leaving the clan chief dead. The child held the mind of my <br><br> <br>beloved Rulella and so they have taken them both back to their <br><br> <br>land of evil. <br></i> <br></center> <br><p> <br>Tears dropped onto the parchment but Timanuk continued to write. He held a Moondrop in his other hand, its scent reminding him, not only of the beloved child Arabu, but also of the woman he had always loved. Rulella. <br><p> <br>Timanuk heard a sound behind him, and he felt the familiar warmth as fur rubbed against his leg. It was Arebella. He lifted her up onto his lap, not caring that her body was covered in soot and one ear was torn. She sat quietly on her new master’s lap, mewing softly. <br><p> <br>“Yes, my little friend,” he said, gently stroking her sad face. “I shall miss her, too.” <br><p> <br>The End…. <br><p> <br>