Abased - The Exiled Warrior

Chapter 5.1 - Astaevka

Rustam led the way into the Astaevka camp. Clarisai sat serenely in front of him despite the knife at her throat. Alam's couldn't keep his eyes away from the blade hovering near her skin. His stomach was a bundle of nerves and he was having a hard time concealing his hands shaking.

What were we thinking? Coming here is stupid. There's no chance that their chief will treat us well.

But if we don't find shelter with them, or at least some supplies, we'll die of cold. Or starvation.

The inviting smell of cooking fires wafted on every side. Alam, who had eaten little over the past few weeks, could not stop his mouth watering and his stomach grumbling as the fragrance of mutton and flat bread surrounded him. As they slowly rode their horses into the heart of the camp the Astaevka inhabitants came to gawk at them. They were soon surrounded by people who curiously walked next to them or followed in their wake. In the centre of the camp was an open piece of land, as was common in most clans. On the opposite side of this clearing, standing in front of a tent, was Chief Erasyl. He stood proud and straight with his sword on his hip. He was past his physical prime, with a sagging belly, lines around his face and greying hair mixed into his long warrior's braid, but Alam knew he had a reputation for having a cunning mind, as well as being proud and brutal.

When they were close to the chief, Rustam signaled for everyone to dismount. Once the horses were led away he bowed at the waist.

"Father, these four claim to be peaceful travelers that wish to do service for us. Those two," he pointed to Alam and Tajar, "are the Empa who were banished from their clan, were captured by Khashbal, killed the hellcat in the maze at Clanmeet, and then killed Chief Kirill of Khashbal."

"That is not true!" Tajar burst out. "We did not kill Chief Kirill!"

"Be quiet," Chief Erasyl instructed. He then nodded for his son to continue.

"These two," he indicated Clarisai and Gretch, "I know nothing about other than she is an Evara, and he looks like he's from one of the southern realms over the mountains."

"What are you doing in my land?" demanded Erasyl. He looked Alam directly in the eye.

"We are traveling to the west," Alam respectfully dipped his gaze, "but our supplies are gone and we also don't know the state of the mountain pass. If it is still able to be crossed we will do so, if not we will seek shelter. If you can provide either supplies or shelter we will gladly work to compensate you."

"You have no money?"

"Unfortunately not."

"I see," Chief Erasyl nodded. "I do not believe in kindness. Kindness is weakness, but it may be that we can come to an agreement that we both benefit from. Come into my tent and we will discuss matters fully."

Alam, Tajar, Clarisai, and Gretch followed Chief Erasyl and his son, Rustam, into the chief's spacious tent. Other than being much larger than normal, it was similar to any other clan tent - round, with a centre pole to hold up the roof, pallet beds next to each other on the far side from the door, a small stove in the centre of the room. Sitting in front of the stove was a woman who was pouring milk tea into simple earthen cups.

"The first thing you need to know," Chief Erasyl said as he sat on a wooden chair near the centre of the tent, "is that the mountain pass is closed. An early snowfall last week has blocked the trail."

Alam, Tajar and Clarisai looked at each other in disappointment. The woman, who Alam assumed must be Chief Erasyl's wife, began passing tea to all in the tent, starting with the chief. She wore a look of concern on her otherwise pleasant, round face. As she handed Alam the cup he noticed that her right hand was slightly misshapen, as if broken bones had not been set properly before they healed.