6 days left
I do not wish to give up, but I am afraid I must. What am I to do? I am but a man, and he will soon be unstoppable.
- Elder Ohvocdu
The night was oppressive, and he walked beside his father as they trudged back to Murkali. He kept glancing at his father, who had not spared him a glance or a word after the ceremony.
His father was a tall, lanky man. His puffy beard hung from his chin, and his head was shaved. Whenever he spoke, his large lips were prominent. His skin was dark as the night. He gazed around with sharp, knowing eyes. Avso’s eyes were said to be like his father’s.
It was almost morning. The sun would peek up from the horizon in a few hours. The city, Murkali, was decrepit and built with crumbling sandstone buildings. It was the only form of civilization for miles. The rest was a dangerous savannah with sparse trees and prowling animals. Dark shadows shrouded the waving grass, making it look ominous. Wind whispered across the grasstops. He glanced at his father again.
The walk, so peaceful, felt alien and surreal after the ritual.
The blood was still on Avso's hands. It had smeared and dried throughout the night. Some had splashed onto his golden hair—a crown of gold and blood. Avso’s mind kept going back to the man he had killed.
He had seen death before, but never killed anyone. The thought made his nauseous. When Emperor Tutu had ruled, he would routinely behead non-believers in the square. And the Cirryfu Raid had happened when Avso was six years old, yet he could still remember it all. He had been so terrified that he couldn't even cry, all the shouting and screaming and roaring and stomping of feet. His father had protected their household, and Avso had watched in terror and awe as he butchered the non-believers.
But tonight was different. After the adrenaline had left him, it didn’t feel like such a right thing. The way the man had died—flopping around like a bird without wings, his hands tied behind his back—was something he would never forget.
But how could it not be right? The Emperor himself and Murok had commanded. The Emperor was an extension of Murok’s will. So, was it not right to kill the non-believers if the Emperor wished for it?
Avso looked over to his father again. He scanned his face, looking for any hint of acknowledgement. There was none.
Did his father hate him so much? Just because he was illegitimate? Avso was Murok-blessed; his blonde hair was proof enough. So, was it not so wrong to be proud of Avso?
Avso wanted to say something but knew his father would scold him. His father never liked it when Avso spoke without permission. But tonight was different. Avso had been honored by Murok himself. His father would surely appreciate this … But, then why had he said nothing?
Hesitantly, he asked, "Did I not do well, father?”
His father stayed silent and kept looking forward. “Did I give you permission to speak?”
“I’m sorry. I ... I was wondering why you said nothing about my honor. I was the youngest there. I honored the Keisid name tonight.” Avso took a breath. “Murok will surely bless us for this.”
“You were weaker than a starving babe,” the whip-like voice said.
"I—"
“You hesitated to kill a non-believer. Weak, you are weak.”
Avso’s heart stopped, and he fought the fear growing in him. His father’s anger was not something to be reckoned with.
“But I did it regardless. I killed him. Did I not?” He wrung his hands. "It was—"
“Any fool can kill another man,” his father said. “What matters is how it is done. Is it done without hesitancy or mercy? Or is it done like a child who cries over his misfortune? I saw which one you were tonight.”
“I … I did not. I hesitated no more than the others.”
His father's face tightened, still looking ahead at the approaching city. “The others are fools. You represent the Keisids; you don’t hold yourself to their standards.”
“I’ll do better next time—on the next honor I receive. I’ll do it without hesitation.”
His father didn’t answer. Avso wanted to say more, but he knew it would be unwise. Avso's heart stabbed, and he felt his eyes sting, but he forced himself to not look weak or hurt. They continued the walk back in silence.
Avso's mind went back to the man he had killed. He tried pushing it from his mind, but it wouldn't go.
When they reached the city, many were waiting for them. They cheered as they came in, shouted, criticized the non-believers who had died, and praised the newly honored warriors.
Avso wished he could hide—he didn't like the attention. But he could do nothing. They crowded around him, all wanting to touch his hair, shouting things like “Murok-blessed” and “Blessed one.” They were proud of him tonight. But he found himself not caring. He did not need their pride—only Murok's. The children came to him and handed him golden Avsonu flowers—the flowers his true mother had named him after. He took them in gentle hands, and thanked them lightly.
They kept walking, and reached his father’s home, a large two-story sandstone building with an elephant statue guarding the door. They found Avso’s siblings waiting for them. His father’s wife, who wasn’t Avso’s mother, was there too, looking stern and unyielding. Avso fought his urge to hide from her. He didn't need her respect.
His father smiled as he saw his family and quickly made his way toward them. Avso hesitated and stood back from them. His siblings bowed before their father.
His father bowed before his wife, as was the custom. And she said, “Rise.”
He did, and then they talked closer and exchanged words. The children immediately sprinted up to their father, hugging him. His father hugged them back and smiled—a smile so genuinely filled with love that Avso felt his stomach would burst with jealousy.
“Dad! Were you honored?” Ecrine asked.
“Ecrine, you must be patient. We will talk about it at dinner.” His father smiled.
"But I want to hear about it now." Ecrine pouted.
His father chuckled lightly and hugged Ecrine.
“Why’d you take so long, Dad?” Owawi asked.
His father’s smile faltered. “The Emperor’s ritual takes time, Owawi.”
"What was it like?" Bwara asked, tugging at his father's arm. "Is the Emperor invincible? Is he?"
A flicker of deep anger and hatred shot across his father's face—but then it was gone. Avso thought it was a strange reaction. His father smiled in a strained way. "He is not invincible yet."
Avso stood to the side, not knowing what to do. He didn’t want to be disrespectful and head into the house, so he waited and watched them greet each other. No one greeted him.
His siblings glanced at him, specifically his blonde dreads, which they were so jealous of. On many accounts, he had heard their jealousy: they would already be Emperor or Empress if they had his hair, and Murok had chosen him wrong. His father had stopped them from saying that for fear that Murok would drown them in mud. His entire life had been like this. All the other children had either resented or praised him.
When his Frauza and his wife, Uhovlo Keisid, stopped talking, Uhovlo glared at Avso. Then they walked inside. Avso followed behind respectfully. As she walked, Uhovlo hummed a haunting melody. Avso always heard that melody from her—it chilled his bones. She was a stout lady, short and wide with a hunched walk. Her hair lay long on her back in thick ropes. She had full lips and an unsymmetrical face. His father always said she was beautiful. Avso didn’t voice his thoughts.
Avso was short and gaunt, like a starved horse. But the most crucial part of his identity was his hair. Avso’s hair was a cascade of gold, like the first light beams that graced the world. It was a sign from Murok himself, a divine blessing. The last person with golden hair had died more than twenty years before Avso’s birth. When she died, the tribe of Murkali mourned for three straight days. Golden Avsonu flowers were carefully arranged and laid down the river Ureusi, which floated down to Eloalu and further until they spilled into the boundless ocean. They would do the same when Avso died.
When Avso was discovered, all of Murkali had rejoiced—all of Murkali except for his father. His real mother, Lacgueka Ibweiz, gave birth to him. Frauza had laid with Lacgueka at the beginning of his marriage, when he was betrothed but not yet married.
His father would have had him killed, he had told Avso on many occasions, but killing a Murok-blessed was never an option. His mother would have hidden Avso away, but she had seen his gold hair and went to Frauza, hoping he could grow up strong. It had been a mistake on her part. His father had her killed, but not before taking in Avso. Frauza did not take in Avso for love but rather for duty.
Avso often wondered what his life would have been like had he not been born illegitamate. Why would Murok choose to bless him? He surely saw the irony. Maybe, had he been born Frauza’s trueborn son, he would be an Emperor by now.
Emperor Amud led Murkali with devout adherence to Murok. He had once led a purge of any Murkali individual not possessing Otu powers. Almost no one had protested. Some of the impotent even laid down their lives before the Emperor. Avso was the only person in all of Murkali without Otu. He was spared because of his blessing.
Avso walked into the house with the rest, trailing behind a bit. He stood in the entrance hall, adorned with animal furs and bones along the walls, and waited for some sign of recognition from his father.
“Did you have Iltec prepare us a meal?” his father asked Uhovlo.
“Of course, I did.”
Frauza smiled, his large lips curling at the ends. “Well, then, let us feast.”
He walked into the door leading to their kitchen. After everyone but Avso was there, Frauza turned to Avso, who stood by the entrance. “Clean yourself, boy, then you will eat with us today.”
Avso’s heart skipped a beat, and he stood there dumbfounded momentarily. But then his mind kicked in. “Yes, father. Thank you for the honor.” He rushed outside and washed the blood from his arms as quickly as possible. Then walked into the dining room.
It was a small and cramped room with a tall window on one side. Candles lined the table, made from breechwood taken from the raids on Vifi. The edges were straight and elegant, something that could not be said about many other family tables—if they had any.
Avso stood there awkwardly, going to the guest seat near the end. Stuck between his siblings Owawi and Cwado. They looked at him curiously; some shot glares.
Owawi spoke up; he was short and dressed in his finest robes. “Don’t sit here.”
Frauza broke in. “Let him, Owawi. He will sit today.”
Owawi bowed his head.
Iltec, the servant, brought in a tray filled with food. It was a roasted boar sliced into roughly square slabs. He set a plate before Avso, and the steak glistened in the candlelight. Avso could hardly stop himself from eating it right then and there.
Uhovlo took her time gathering her utensils. The meal could not start before she took a bite, but that didn’t stop her from slowly raising the fork and slicing it into the meat. Most of the children immediately bit in when she took the first bite. Avso waited slightly and took a more respectable approach.
Ecrine and Bwaza whispered to each other, and Avso suspected it was about him being at the table. He was too delighted to care, and his hands trembled slightly.
He took a bite out of his food and quickly swallowed. He then looked at his father.
“Father, the Emperor honored you tonight. You were at his right-hand side.”
Frauza chewed his food, eyes boring into Avso's. “Yes, as is my right.”
Uhovlo butted in. “Murok must have seen you tonight. You were second to no one but the Emperor himself.”
Frauza smiled at her. “Thank you, my sweet. I’m afraid Ipgas was honored more than I. He did not deserve it, of course. I believe Emperor Amud is making a grave mistake in placing his trust in him.”
Uhovlo nodded; her voice gnawed at Avso’s skull. “He’s a liar. You should be up there, not him.”
Trauzi, the second youngest at eight years old, spoke up. “Where was Skamtos Wascofi, dad?” Trauzi adored Skamtos and his white eyes that saw everything. He was often found fighting alongside the Emperor himself.
Avso disliked Skamtos. He was a drunkard, withering away by himself. He had all the power and respect that Murok could give, yet he wasted it all.
“He was with the other warriors. In the receiving line.”
“So Murok honored you above him?” Bwaza asked.
“Yes,” Frauza said with a smile.
“Could you beat Skamtos Wascofi, Dad?” Trauzi asked.
“No,” his father said. “But I could perhaps stand against another warrior of his level. But you see, Trauzi, you can take different avenues in life. And what is the most honorable?”
“The ruler,” Trauzi said.
“Yes, the ruler.” Frauza smiled and went back to his meal.
Avso butted in, his heart racing. “Because a ruler can command a thousand warriors. But a warrior can only command himself.”
The table was silent until his father, without looking up at him, said, “Correct.” Then he went back to eating.
Avso’s heart lifted, and the room seemed brighter and friendlier than before. He pumped his leg under the table.
Cwado, to his right, was looking at the Kruek ribs in the middle of the table. “Pass the ribs, Owawi,” Cwado said.
“No, get it yourself,” Owawi said.
“Pass it to me. I want it.”
Avso reached across the table hesitantly and grabbed the Kruek ribs. He figured he would pass it to Cwado. But in his haste, his hands fumbled, and he dropped the plate.
A sharp clang rang throughout the room as the plate dropped on the table, spilling food on the perfect table.
Avso froze, and his heart stopped beating.
His father glared at him, and Avso sank back. The servant Iltec rushed forward to clean the mess.
“You idiot!” Cwado threw his hands up. “I was going to eat that.”
“S-sorry.”
His father looked away from Avso and didn’t spare him another glance. Uhovlo glared at Avso with so much hatred in her rotting eyes that he felt he would explode.
Owawi snickered, as did Ecrine.
“What about Dufmaik? Was he there?” Trauzi asked.
His father was silent for a moment. “Yes. He was to my right.”
“Wouldn’t he be with the warriors?” Bwaza asked.
“Yes. But he agrees with our sentiment. He understands the power of ruling.”
“Surely he wouldn’t try to take the Emperor’s place?” Uhovlo asked.
“No.” Frauza wiped at his lips with a cloth. “He wouldn’t.”
Dinner went on. Avso added input where he could. He decided to stay around afterward with his father. Maybe he could ask about his honoring again.
Uhovlo gently set her fork in the correct position, signaling that dinner was done. His half-siblings stood and left. Avso remained seated for a moment.
Frauza looked in his direction, and Avso immediately tensed.
“Stay here.” Frauza’s voice was low.
Avso nodded, his body feeling numb from sudden excitement. “Yes, Father."
The room was silent momentarily as they waited for everyone to leave. Then his father looked at the servant Iltec and said, “Close the door and leave us.”
And then it was just them two. Avso felt an overwhelming nervousness settle over him, and he fought from fidgeting. His father’s presence felt close to the Emperor’s—as if massive hands were squeezing the life from his chest.
His father stared at him and remained silent for a few moments. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.
“I’m about to tell you something no one may hear. Do you understand?”
Avso nodded his head. “Yes, Father. Of course.”
“No one may ever hear of this. You may not speak to anyone regarding this except me or anyone I permit you to speak to. Do you understand?”
Avso nodded again. “Yes, I understand.”
“Vow to me. Vow your secrecy to Murok.”
Avso’s heartbeat was in his ears, and he pumped his leg under the table. “I vow secrecy on my honor to Murok. Murok should strangle me himself if I break this vow. If I should break the vow, then I should die.”
“Good ...” his father trailed off, staring deep into Avso’s soul. Avso dared not look away.
The moment stretched longer and longer. And Avso heard no noise but his own heart pounding in his ears. He fidgeted under the table.
“You ... Avso … You will help me kill Emperor Amud.”
