The Elder's Curse by Andrew Walbrown (superbooks4u .txt) 📗

of sandgrouses, unfortunately. Very well. Unload the rest of the herbs and start making the potions, I will return in a few hours. Come, my guests, your presence is about to be demanded by the High Council.”

Tomo was not mistaken, the delegation indeed came for Amantius, Ulam, and Nilawen. There were a couple of Kalikkis dressed like Tomo in their midst, surrounded by warriors wearing sets of light armor and carrying spears that glistened in the sunlight. From every window and corner, hundreds of eyes watched the procession, some with curiosity and some with fear. After a quick conversation in the Yawani language, Tomo signaled for the trio to follow him towards their destination: the Great Obelisk of Yawan.

“At the base of the Great Obelisk is where the High Council meets,” Tomo explained as they walked along the flower-laden riverbanks. For a person who was long in the tooth and impeded by an arched back, he moved quite quickly. “There is a great assembly hall there, the Forum, where the forty-eight delegates of the High Council meet, all of whom are chosen from the people of Yawan.”

Even from afar the Great Obelisk was gargantuan, a spear-like monument that towered high into the cobalt sky. As they drew nearer Amantius noticed intricate carvings decorating every inch of its surface, the work of generations of masterful sculptors. He was able to distinguish animalistic characters, which represented the Kalikkis, though some looked too feline to be mice. The face of the monument was also littered with many other easily recognizable shapes: mountains, fire, water, and spears among them. As he observed the pillar it dawned on him the Great Obelisk told a story, one which he wanted to know. Ugh, I’m acting like Ulam now.

“What story does the Great Obelisk tell?” Amantius asked, feeling surprised by his piqued curiosity. “It is a story, right?”

“Indeed it is,” Tomo replied, sitting on a nearby bench, drawing the ire of the escort. “You must excuse me, friends; I am old and this sun never takes a holiday.” He then turned to his guests, gesturing for them to relax in the shade of a fig tree. “Please join me, and I will tell you the story of our people.”

Nilawen sat on the bench beside Tomo while Ulam and Amantius chose to rest on the ground. The soldiers stood at guard while Tomo’s disgruntled colleagues stormed towards the island, bickering in their native tongue. Sounds like a bunch of squeaks and clicks mixed with actual words. I wonder if a non-Kalikki could learn it. Wen probably could; she already speaks at least two different languages, maybe even three.

“You may wonder why we Kalikkis live so far away from the rest of the world,” Tomo began, “on the other side of the Ashlands of the Alakuum, of all places. We Kalikkis have always been a very secluded people. Most will spend their entire lives in the same place, never setting foot outside Yawan’s boundaries. As such, whatever happens in the outside world does not concern us much. In some ways this has served us well, in others, our solitude has been our undoing.

“For centuries the Kalikkis lived in settlements throughout the eastern mountains, the ones you crossed to get here. They kept to themselves, with only a few chosen members of their societies leaving to trade goods with Humans, Kolossi, Nogoons, whomever. My ancestors were not warlike, but if invaded they would defend themselves, usually against the Mwai.”

“The Mwai?” Ulam asked.

“Yes, the ancient rivals of the Kalikkis,” Tomo replied. “Back then they were our greatest, and perhaps only, enemy. They raided our lands, killed our children, and stole our livestock, but they never mounted a unified attack, often undoing any progress they made by quarreling among themselves. They were always a danger, of course, but they were easily controlled, much like the flames of a campfire or the rising banks of this river.

“Then one year a great plague swept over the Human kingdoms, eventually spreading death throughout their cities. When news reached the ears of my ancestors, they locked their borders, preventing anyone from coming or going. After being sealed off to the world for quite some time a host of Mwai arrived at the gates of Rashi, the southernmost city of the Kalikkis. At first, my ancestors believed they were under siege, that the Mwai had finally organized a concentrated attack on their lands. But as the city prepared for war, the leaders of Rashi realized that it was not an army at their gates, but a wave of refugees fleeing a massacre.

“The Humans blamed the plague on the Mwai. They claimed the Mwai used wicked magic to create a great epidemic to weaken their kingdoms in some nefarious plan to seize more land. United for perhaps the first time in their history, the Humans invaded the Mwai, overran their towns, and slaughtered all who were unable to escape. The leaders of Rashi had a great decision to make. They could open the gates and provide the Mwai refuge, even though since time immemorial they were the archenemy of the Kalikkis. Or, they could allow hatred to blind them of goodwill and decency, turn away the Mwai, and sentence them to an iron death.”

Tomo paused and asked one of the soldiers for a drink, the guard happily providing the old Kalikki with a canteen filled with water. While this happened Amantius reflected on Tomo’s story and felt a great sadness for the Kalikkis. But sadness was not the only emotion that stirred within him, as he glanced into the eyes of his Kalikki escort Amantius felt guilt festering inside his heart, like a dark flower blossoming on a cursed grave. Why do I have this feeling of responsibility lingering over me? Sure, I’m a Human, but I’m also an Accarian. My people live on an island in the middle of the ocean, there’s no way they slaughtered anyone.Right?

“The leaders of Rashi held a council and debated what