LITMIR.BIZ

      Soon the Outsiders arrived at the south gate. There weren’t too many of them, and they were all visibly exhausted. Nevertheless, their savage warlike appearance inspired a superstitious terror in the Cusunian peasants. Clad only in bone beads and loincloths, tall, muscular, and tattooed orange skin, they appeared as if from another world. Their long white hair was braided into multiple braids, their ears lengthened with heavy earrings. Their faces have no beards or moustaches – but they are tougher than any bearded man’s face… Their bushy eyebrows are painted black, and there is a sullenness in their eyes – but also courage. Baaths! Mercenaries from a distant, jungle-filled tropical land, which here in the north of the Empire was almost a fairy tale, a horrible fairy tale, the kind of fiction that teens scare each other at night. And now this TALE became reality, came to the home and knocked on the door.

      At first, though, the Ba’aths were courteous. Their commander (or should I say Chief?) said that the detachment needed rest, the mules were shaky, the warriors were hungry and weary from the alien climate. Recently, the “true chosen one of Heaven,” the “future emperor,” Shanar, had come to the North. With a powerful army, of course. Prince Pai accepted the challenge – and the North has turned into an arena of fierce battles. Shanar is a descendant of the Baath chieftain Alligator, and he has many Baath mercenaries in his army. They all need food – and, preferably, drink and lodging. Shanar allowed the mercenaries to get it all for themselves.

      The chief promised the villagers that his men would not ravage the village if they were well fed and drunk. “We don’t want to fight. We are very tired. We are not well in your country, the weather is not right. Give us what we ask and we won’t hurt you. If you agree, I’ll give you my brother as a hostage. He’s a shaman. I’m very fond of him. I’ll give him to you while we eat and drink. When we go on our way, I’ll ask you to bring him back. We don’t want to fight. Though we’re not afraid.”

      The peasants were in council – arguing until they were hoarse. Clan elders and self-defense commanders declared that they had to surrender. But dervish Karamas urged a fight to the last. “Are we pious kuzuns going to feed the vile wicked!” And so confident and assertive was he – that he won the argument.

      All that happened after that Lyra tried for a long time to forget. But unsuccessfully. Blood, fire, corpses, guttural screams, orange faces twisted in anger, screams of horror… At the very beginning of the battle, the apt peasant had fired an arrow from his crossbow and struck down the Chief’s brother. That same “beloved shaman”, who was not helped by the most powerful talismans and bodyguards… The Chief roared like a storm, and the rage of the savages knew no bounds. Children were kicked, old men and women were cut down. Less than a hundred villagers out of a thousand were left alive, and even they were almost all beaten and dishonored. The savages created a real pogrom, ruined and looted everything, and burned what they could not carry away. Even the gardens were cut down.