Distribution

The time has come to distribute the great Gathering and Sufoh goes to the palace to perform his duty to protecting Lord Jayis, but something is abrew.

Distribution

 

Sunshine penetrated the windows of Sufoh's house, lighting the

many halls and chambers and breathing life into a new day. The air was

moist and cool, typical of the coming season, and the male villagers were already beginning to leave their homes, proceeding to the palace to report to their superior officers and submit their names and the names of their families for distribution. This way, they would get their allotted potions of the season's gatherings.

Sufoh was to go to the palace as well, but for a different reason. He was the tribe's only Guardian-class soldier. His only job was to protect Lord Jayis, the White Wolf tribe's most significant figure, with his life. The rank of Guardian was an honor in any of the seven tribes and Sufoh performed the job well. While the other six lords possessed from three to ten guardians, Lord Jayis chose only one.

Eana had gone home early that morning, but Sufoh was still unable to sleep, so he had sat on his rooftop still, thinking. His mother used to tell him that thinking so much could be dangerous. Eventually, you question things that you shouldn't, and that is the beginning of turmoil. Nevertheless, Sufoh couldn't help who he was.

He climbed down from his rooftop and went into his bedchamber. The room was very plain, having only a bed and a chest in which Sufoh kept his clothes. He dressed himself and closed his top with a belt tied at his waist. He then tied his hair back and slipped his sword into his belt.

The palace was often crowded during Distribution registration, so Sufoh would have to be especially vigilant today, not that most would dare attack the lord with or without Sufoh by his side. Lord Jayis was a very skilled warrior in his own right, but a man of his status didn't even dress himself, let alone draw a weapon. To fight is an absolute last resort for a Macari lord, especially one with the power and prestige of Lord Jayis. He was, after all, the leader of the oldest and strongest of the seven Macari tribes. As the White Wolf Lord, Jayis commanded copious ranks, the most notable of which being Sufoh.

Sufoh walked into his sister Kidja's bedchamber. She slept peacefully in her feather bed, her lower torso obscured by a worn blanket. Her face was hidden beneath a curtain of hair; thick and black, like Sufoh's, but much longer. She was a small girl of only twenty and eight seasons. She had no blemishes, no battle scars, no signs of the things that her family had been through, things that had cost Sufoh his childhood and cost his parents their lives. Sufoh envied her innocence, wishing that he had had the chance to experience the carefree life of a small child as long as she would.

Beside her bed rested two, half-length swords. Kidja loved to fight. It was the only reason Sufoh taught her. However, she rarely saw any real action because Sufoh didn't like the idea of his little sister being a warrior. She was all the family he had left, and if anything happened to her, he could never forgive himself. He would've much preferred she marry into a family of distinguished soldiers—not unlike their own—and serve their tribe in a safer manner.

          Sufoh gently rocked Kidja until she began to stir. She sat up, yawned, stretched, and finally opened her eyes.

          "Surprise."

          "Sufoh!" Kidja leapt into her brother's arms. "You're home. Was this really the last time? Will you be leaving again?"

          "No," said Sufoh, brushing back a lock of Kidja's hair, "I will be right here in the village until the season of Awakening. Were you well taken care of while I was away?"

          Kidja nodded hard. "Uh-huh."

          "That reminds me," Sufoh said as he put his sister down. He ran to his bedchamber and returned with a shining jewel that was half ruby and half sapphire, hanging from a thin gold chain. "I stole this from a city in the east. I thought you might like it."

          Kidja took the necklace. "Sufoh," she gasped, admiring the gem, "this is beautiful. It must be worth a fortune. Why are you giving it to me?"

          "It is a stone, Kidja. It is worth nothing to me. You are the only treasure I have, and there is nothing too valuable for you. I would turn day into night if it would make you happy. You know that."

          Kidja hugged him again. "I love it. Thank you so much."

The short silence made way for a knock on the door. Sufoh picked up his sword and went to see who it was. When he opened the door, one of Lord Jayis's messengers stood in his doorway.

"Sufoh," the messenger began, "Lord Jayis requests your presence at a banquet to celebrate this season's gatherings, tonight at dusk."

Sufoh nodded and watched the messenger ride away on his wolf. It was a little foolish of Lord Jayis to hold a banquet the same day of Distribution registration. He was supposed to take that night to look over his list of officers and decide who would get what, but Sufoh wasn't surprised at his lord's negligence. Lord Jayis would get the job done at the very last minute, probably after asking Sufoh to help him.

"Who was that?" Kidja's disembodied voice asked from the kitchen.

Sufoh shut the door. "A courtier, Jayis is having a banquet tomorrow."

"Why?"

"To celebrate such a great Gathering before the season of Death arrives."

"Are you invited?"

"Of course I am invited."

"Who else is invited?"

"Probably the other lords."

"Are you going?"

"I have to."

"Can I go?"

Sufoh sighed with exasperation. "Yes, Kidja, you can."

Sufoh heard Kidja laugh and looked out of the window beside him. Villagers were flooding out of their homes, men and women all dressed in robes, like Sufoh. Most were on foot, but some went to the palace by way of wolfback. The minutes passed quickly as Sufoh's mind wandered back to the incident of which he never spoke. He tried his best not to think about it as he swung the door open.

          "I am leaving," Sufoh yelled to Kidja. "I will come back for you later."

          "Wait!" Kidja called, running after him with a wooden bowl and spoon in her tiny hands. "You haven't eaten yet."

Sufoh took the bowl from his sister. It was filled to the brim with porridge. It was gray, soupy, and had the consistency and odor of vomit.

Kidja looked hopefully into her brother's eyes. She had been practicing her cooking while he was away and couldn't wait for him to try it. If it weren't for the banquet, she'd planned to make him dinner.

          Sufoh took a deep breath and removed the spoon from the bowl. He couldn't hold his nose; Kidja was watching. The best he could do would be to finish it quickly. He tipped the bowl up and swallowed rapidly. The liquid ran down the sides of his mouth until it dripped to the floor.

          He finished and handed the bowl to Kidja, then wiped his mouth with his arm.

          "How was it?" inquired Kidja, bright-eyed.

          "Awful," said Sufoh. "I can only describe the taste as…old milk and soggy wood."

          The little girl stared despondently into the empty bowl. "But…I thought—"

"I am kidding," Sufoh lied, rubbing her head. "It was delicious. Now, I have to get to the palace. Lord Jayis can not go unprotected for too long."

Sufoh opened the door, but stopped at the sound of Kidja's call. He turned and said, "Yes, Kidja?"

"Why is Lord Jayis the lord?" she asked, head inclined.

          Sufoh rubbed his chin, trying to think of the quickest and simplest way to explain things. "The lord is the tribe's strongest warrior."

          Sufoh turned to leave and Kidja tugged at the back of his belt. "But I thought you were the strongest warrior. Why aren't you the lord?"

          "I am the strongest," he answered, slightly amused, "but Jayis has been the lord since before I was born. I cannot just take his position."

"Why not?"

"Because he has to die first. I will probably become lord someday, but for now, I need to protect the current lord. To do that, I have to go to the palace and that means you have to stop asking questions." He knelt down and kissed his sister on the forehead. "I will see you tonight."

Sufoh went quickly out of the door before Kidja could come up with another topic of conversation and made his way to the stable beside the house. He had intended to walk to the palace, but had wasted so much time with Kidja; he would have to ride his wolf if he wanted to get there within a reasonable amount of time.

The stable was cold when Sufoh entered and the air smelled like wood. Twenty stalls lined the walls, ten on each side, but most of them were empty. Normally, men of Sufoh's status owned several wolves, but he needed only one. In the third stall, on the left side, a giant wolf lay sleeping.

The wolf was six and a half cubits from head to tail and his fur was an argent color, spiked and dulled from age. When he woke, a pair of grey eyes peered up at Sufoh from their position between his massive front paws on the leaf-covered floor.

"Jorah," said Sufoh to the wolf, "get up."

The old wolf slowly rose to his feet. On all fours, he was taller than Sufoh. He violently shook the leaves and dirt from his body and then looked at Sufoh and opened his mouth, giving the warrior and glimpse of his razor-sharp teeth. A deep, powerful voice then rumbled from his mouth, saying, "It is early, Sufoh. What do you want?"

"It is not early, Jorah," Sufoh said to his lazy wolf. "I need you to take me to the palace."

          Sufoh opened the stall door and Jorah stepped out. He hopped onto his wolf's back and the two of them trotted off. Jorah was very old. In seasons, he was somewhere in the eight hundreds. He had been given to Sufoh's family as a gift, generations ago. In spite of his age, however, Jorah was still an outstanding fighter. He had once been the alpha male of a strong wolf pack, back when he was in Govahna, the Supernatural World, sometimes called Gobriana, the World of Demons. Now, he and Sufoh were the closest of friends and an unbeatable team in battle.

          Jorah picked up his pace and Sufoh arrived at Lord Jayis's palace within minutes. Outside of the gates, dozens of tables had been set up along a dirt path. There, long lines of chattering villagers gave their names and positions to the men at the tables, who wrote the information down on scrolls, using feather quills and ink wells. It didn't seem that there were any conflicts yet. Perhaps distribution would go as smoothly as Gathering.

          Sufoh stopped his wolf in front of a tall gate. Its rails were pointed like spears and had golden tips. Two guards, armed with poleaxes guarded it, standing motionless. Sufoh always thought that a swift enough assassin could easily get past them and harm Lord Jayis. But he assumed that that was more reason for his job.

          "I am here," Sufoh addressed the guard on the left.

          The soldier spoke, but didn't make eye contact with Sufoh. "Greetings, Sufoh. I trust you slept well."

          "I did not sleep at all," Sufoh replied curtly. "Open the gate. I am not here to talk."

          Both guards were silent. They set their poleaxes aside and pulled the gate open. Sufoh dismounted, instructed Jorah to go home, and made his way down the stone path and into the open palace doors. Under normal circumstances the doors would have been shut and guarded as well, but during distribution, the entrance hall was just was crowded as the outside. Those who had changed status since last Gathering were required to present their names to their superior officers. Those officers would then give their names and the names of all of their men to their superiors and the cycle continued all the way up to Lord Jayis, skipping over Sufoh.

          Sufoh was grateful of the fact hat he wasn't involved in this confusing process. Since he was guardian to the lord, he had no one under him and no superior except for Lord Jayis. Because of his status, he, like his lord, would always be given a fixed—and very substantial—portion of the gathering, while what was left would be rationed out to everyone else, according to their military status.

          Sufoh walked past the long, noisy lines and though a door on the left of the room, ascending a flight of stairs that led him to the palace's second level. Unlike the first, this level was all but empty. The elegant halls were quiet and hollowed, and Sufoh was glad to have finally gotten away from all of the noise, but he didn't relax, for peace never lasted long.

          He ventured down the two halls until he reached the doors of Lord Jayis's throne room. Like the front door, they were wide open and the inside was crowded with people. Lord Jayis's throne room was for special cases, such as retired soldiers, widows who left the army to care for their children, and Lord Jayis's non-military officials. This was also the place where complaints were taken. Most Macari tribes didn't take complaints during distribution, but the White Wolf tribe was so large that it was quite possible that a mistake could be made during the chaos of Distribution.

          As Sufoh hurried up to Lord Jayis, the people backed away from him quickly, careful not to get to close to him or look him in the eyes. They knew better than to get that close to Lord Jayis when his guardian was around. The lord looked up when noticed the mob rushing to get away from him. Sufoh was the only person in the tribe who could bring such fear everywhere he went.

          Lord Jayis was a tall, burly man with dark skin and a naturally bald head. His face was just as stony as the rest of his body, allowing few variations in his facial expressions. The brass-hilted sword he carried on his belt was broad, straight, and double edged, whereas Sufoh's was slender, slightly curved, and only bladed on one side.

          "My Lord," Sufoh addressed him with a bow as he took his usual position beside him. "With all due respect, you should never to open the throne room doors before I get here. Distribution is an ideal time for any assassin. You ought to be more careful."

          "Oh, Sufoh," said Lord Jayis, "must you come in badgering me?"

          "It is my duty to keep you alive," said Sufoh. "That includes advising you on how to stay safe—"

          "I understand," Jayis hushed him, "I shouldn't have opened the doors early, but what's done is done and I'm still alive. Now do your 'duty' as you put it, and make sure that remains true."

          Sufoh nodded and stopped speaking to Lord Jayis. He placed hand on his sheath and looked out into the crowd of potential attackers, staring them down with his bloody glare. If one was foolish enough to even give the impression of an attempt to harm his lord, his blade would cut them down, as swift and silent as death itself. No one even looked at Lord Jayis now. They never did when Sufoh was around. Eana always told him that he looked scary, even when wasn't trying to, and the fact that he had red eyes only made it worse.

          That stare and a multitude of other traits were initial defenses to discourage anyone who believed that they could defeat or get past Sufoh and get to his lord. Their effectiveness was probably a factor in the early opening of the palace doors. When Sufoh first became guardian, there were daily attempts on Lord Jayis's life, probably because he was only thirty and eight seasons old.

          Nowadays, merely the reputation for having control over a man like Sufoh was enough to keep Lord Jayis safe, so he often gave Sufoh tasks that he found too difficult for any other man or too dangerous for himself, just as much to his own benefit as to keep Sufoh occupied so he wouldn't get too bored with his job.

          "Sufoh," Lord Jayis, said suddenly.

          Sufoh kept his eyes on the people. "Yes, My Lord?"

          He stood up. "I'm getting tired of just sitting here. There haven't been any complaints today, so I have no reason to even be here. Come with me. I have something to show you."

          Lord Jayis led Sufoh out of the throne room and down the hall to the flight of stairs Sufoh had taken to get to the second level. When they reached the fist level, they walked across the room to another staircase that took them down to the cellar. Here Sufoh followed his lord past an empty dungeon that hadn't been used in years to the storage chamber that was used to hold only the White Wolf Tribe's portion of the treasure they stole during the gathering season. Through the tiny barred window on the thick wooden door, Sufoh could see the top of a hill of gold.

          "How much is in there?" asked Sufoh.

          "See for yourself," Lord Jayis answered, grabbing the door handle.

          As the old door squeaked open, Sufoh laid eyes on the largest collection of treasure he had ever seen. Oversized gemstones of every color lay half buried in piles upon piles of gold and silver. Dozens of statues, goblets and other artifacts, made of gold and plated in diamonds, rubies and sapphires were gathered in a corner, stacked, one on top of another, and each, surrounded by coins. There were swords, shields, helms and gauntlets, taken from slain generals, necklaces and bracelets, stripped from the women who wore them and coins of every type and color. Just a handful of what was in that room could make one richer than all seven Macari Lords, combined.

          "And this is just our tribe's ration," said Lord Jayis. "Isn't it amazing?"

          "Quite," said Sufoh, not sounding amazed at all.

          Lord Jayis looked at him and sighed, hunching his broad shoulders. "Sufoh, sometimes I don't think it's even possible to impress you."

          "We gather treasure every four seasons," Sufoh said, flatly. "I do not understand. What about this is supposed to impress me?"

          "Sufoh!" Lord Jayis opened the door again in case the young warrior hadn't seen the droves of treasure the first time. "This is the most bountiful gathering the Macaris have ever seen. We have enough food and gold to last us eight seasons."

          "I understand."

          Lord Jayis dragged his hand over his face. "I give up. Anyhow, how much do you want?"

          Sufoh looked questioningly at him. "My Lord?"

          A mischievous smirk crossed the lord's lips as he rubbed his hands together in greedy anticipation. "Well, with a surplus like this, no one would notice if we took a little off the top. Besides, I'm lord. What could they do about it?"

          "They could attempt to relieve you of your position."

          Lord Jayis laughed to himself. "That's what you're for. Now take your pick so we can get back upstairs."

          "I appreciate the offer," Sufoh said with a courteous bow, "but my allotted portion will be plenty. The surplus should go to those who need it."

          "Very well," Lord Jayis said with a shrug, shutting the door. "You know, anyone else would have killed for the offer I just made you."

          He started to walk and Sufoh followed. "I believe I have done enough killing for one season."

          "You've done enough killing for ten seasons. It's part of the reason we've had such a successful Gathering. In light of that, Distribution should go just as smoothly."

          "That reminds me," Sufoh said as he followed Lord Jayis though the entrance hall, "I received a message this morning that you are holding a banquet tonight. How to you intend to get Distribution done on time?"

          "That doesn't concern you. It will get done, you just enjoy the times. The season is over and all the hard work is finished."

          Sufoh nodded and followed his lord back up to the throne room, where a long list of complaints he had missed during his time in the cellar had accumulated. The complaints, however, weren't anything Lord Jayis couldn't fix quickly and easily. Perhaps he was right. Maybe Distribution would go smoothly this time around, in which case, he probably could get it done in one night. The mathematicians did most of the work anyway.

          As he stood on the side of the throne vigilantly watching the every move of each person in the room, Sufoh's mind began to wander. He thought back three seasons, to the night that still troubled him up to that very moment.

 

"The Golden Age is coming to an end," Lord Jayis had told him, two seasons prior to that terrible night. "The northern cities and towns are growing poorer with every Gathering. Soon, pillaging them won't be enough to keep us alive. In but a few seasons, the Macaris may have to conquer the kingdoms to the west if we want to survive. As you know, this will be extremely difficult, considering the size and strength of their armies, but I believe I have found a way to make us even more powerful. It is a power even greater than yours, my friend. I believe that I may have found a way to attain the power of the Supernatural. If I can open the gate and access Govahna, our tribe will be invincible."

          "What makes you think you can control such power?" asked Sufoh, abruptly. "I do not mean to be cynical, but taming Supernatural wolves is a lot easier than taming Supernatural demons."

          "With the key…" the lord answered, half entranced by the thought. "I've been searching for it since I was your age, Sufoh, and finally, I have discovered its location. As long as I hold the key to Govahna, the Zorbrians cannot escape, and that means their world will be mine to control. Just imagine it—an army of Macaris, you, and demons at my disposal. The legions I'll slaughter! I just need you to retrieve the key for me. I know I can trust you to do so."

          "Of course you can, my Lord."

          "Good. Of course, you can tell no one of this. Once you've found the key, return here as quickly as possible."

          Sufoh bowed his head. "Yes, Your Lordship."

          Two seasons later, the time had come for them to ride to the top of the mountain and open the gate. There, Lord Jayis would retrieve the power he so eagerly sought.

 

          "Sufoh," Lord Jayis's voice called him out of his daydreaming state and back into the crowded room. "Is something wrong? You seem distracted."

          Sufoh shook his head. "No, Your Lordship."

          "Good, I can't have you daydreaming on a day like this."

          Sufoh focused on his work and tried not to think about the incident. Lord Jayis didn't seem to be showing any of the effects of what had happened. There was probably still time to set things right. That was, if the lord wanted things set right.

          By the twilight hours, registrations for Distribution were complete. It was the fastest Sufoh had ever seen them done. Once everyone left the palace, Lord Jayis went to his bedchamber to prepare for the banquet and Sufoh went home to retrieve Kidja and do the same.

He didn't have any formal clothing, but he did have a handsome ivory sheath decorated with gold, that he had stolen last gathering and a matching hilt for his sword. He could bring those and maybe wear white.

          The moment Sufoh placed his hand on the front door of his home an ear-piercing scream penetrated the walls and windows. It had come for Kidja's bedchamber. Sword drawn, Sufoh rushed into the house and down the first hall to Kidja's bedchamber. Not now. It can't be happening now.

He stopped on a dime, barely avoiding running his sister over as she scrambled to find him. Kidja clung to her bother, trembling and crying. She was safe; terrified beyond words, but safe nonetheless. Sufoh sheathed his sword and picked her up.

"It is alright," he tried to calm her. "I am here, Kidja. You are safe. Just tell me what happened."

"I had a terrible vision, just now," Kidja whimpered, voice trembling. "You and me and Lord Jayis were in a room full of black serpents. They attacked and started to rip Lord Jayis apart. You tried to save him, but you couldn't, and then they attacked me. I could feel them tearing at my flesh. It hurt, Sufoh." Kidja began to cry again. "Then…then you came and you saved me by letting them eat you instead. Brother, why am I seeing things like this? Does that mean something bad is going to happen to you?"

Sufoh didn't respond. He was wrong. Something was happening. It hadn't totally manifested yet, but it was coming and coming soon. Kidja had been having prophetic visions for about twelve seasons now. At one time they were of good things such as the season's wonderful Gathering, but lately, they had grown dark and frightening.

          Sufoh picked Kida up and lightly stroked her back, calming her fright. "Listen to me," he said warmly. "You are far too young to be concerned with what happens to me. Just know this: no matter what happens, I will make certain that you are happy. When you grow into a woman, when you marry, when you have children—"

          "When I join the army," Kidja added.

"Yes, if you wish to do so. Do not worry about me, Sister. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I will stay alive, no matter what."

Kidja wiped her tears away with her sleeve. "Promise?"

"I promise." Sufoh put her down. "Now get dressed, and if you have anymore of those bad visions, I will fight them off myself."

 

Author's Note

Put your kids in Kobe's shoes