Godborn, page 46
part #1 of Gods of Bronze Series
“We will find it,” Herkuhlos said.
“If we can find it that means some war band already has,” Belolukos said. “The kerdos and his boys are lying dead somewhere.”
A voice echoed loudly, startling them. “Not yet, Belolukos.”
They whipped about to see Kounos standing in the doorway. He stepped out and approached.
“You were hiding from us,” Herkuhlos said. “I am glad to see that you are alive.”
“We watch always for riders,” Kounos replied, nodding at the boys emerging from side streets and doorways. “When any are spotted we take to our hiding places.”
“What hiding places?” Belolukos asked, looking around at the three boys.
“Ah,” Kounos said, smiling. “Secret places are best kept secret, no?”
“I suppose that is so,” Belolukos said. “But that is no way for a man to live. Hiding in a hole when enemies approach your home.”
Kounos frowned. “Better to live like that than to die. It is not for me, you understand, but for the boys. There is no glory for a boy dying in battle or being enslaved and if I die then they would be lost without me to lead them.” He turned to Herkuhlos. “But why have you come back here? I take it you turned back from the yotunan?”
“Will you offer us food and drink, Kounos?” Herkuhlos said. “We have both to offer you, also.”
“Of course. We are guest friends. Come, we shall eat.” Kounos snapped his fingers. “Boys. Bring their horses in, close and bar the gate behind them, then keep watch again.”
They ran off to do just that and Kounos led Herkuhlos and the others into another house close by. It had been tidied and cleaned and was now clearly lived in. There were benches for sitting and low tables, decorated pottery on the shelves, furs and fabrics on the floor and beds. While it was pleasing to see that domesticity had returned to the house it was still wrong without the women that gave a home its heart. And it only served to highlight the eerie emptiness of the rest of Pelhbriya.
After they had shared their food they sat and spoke. Herkuhlos told the tale of their journey since they had left them. Recounting the events aloud only reinforced his awareness of his failures and strengthened his resolve for what he had to do next.
“I am sorry to hear this,” Kounos said when Herkuhlos finished. “The yotunan bring nothing but destruction. Now you return emptyhanded to your homeland but at least you have your lives. Not all who find the yotunan are so fortunate.”
Herkuhlos tilted his head. “We are not returning to our homeland, Kounos. Carrying that hope was what we did wrong.” He smiled. “Rather, what I did wrong.”
Kounos frowned. “I do not understand. You mean to stay here?” He nodded to himself. “I am delighted to hear it, you would all be most welcome, of course.” He smiled.
“We are not staying here, Kounos.”
The older man frowned, obviously disappointed. “Where do you go, then?”
Herkuhlos searched Kounos’ eyes, looking for some sign that he would do what was needed. “You are a man of a proud lineage, Kounos, and when you work in the sacred forge you are close to your god. I know that you are a devout man. You know and understand the lore of your people.” Frowning, Kounos nodded and Herkuhlos went on. “So you know also that gods tell us to destroy what is evil. Not to turn our backs on it but to destroy it. And the yotunan are the embodiment of evil.”
Understanding spread across Kounos’ face. “You mean to go back?” he shook his head. “Son, you are a fine warrior but you must understand that they are too strong. The demon himself need not lift his hand to destroy you. His warriors will slay you if you return.”
“His warriors serve evil and so they must be destroyed also.”
Kounos looked at all of them. “You four alone? You are nowhere close to being strong enough.”
“The lore does not say to destroy evil only if you are strong enough. It does not say to destroy evil as long as the evil is weak. It simply says it must be done.”
Kounos was unmoved. “It means death.”
From the end of the bench, Belolukos stirred himself. “It means glory.”
Herkuhlos nodded. “We are warriors. We are men. I know you are a kerdos also and perhaps that is where your greatness lies but you are a warrior also. You are a man. And a man has duties. Duties to his people, yes.” He gestured to one of the boys. “But he has a greater duty to win glory.”
Kounos was unmoved. “Glory is a young man’s pursuit.”
“Never have the gods told us this, Kounos.” Herkuhlos turned to look at his companions. “And I learnt this from you, Makros.”
“From me?”
“You knew always what had to be done and you did it. When your clan was lost, you took your koryos against the yotunan. You did not weigh the consequences, you did not even expect to live, and yet you did it without hesitation. When you found yourself alone and wounded, you did not hesitate. You went after the yotunan and you did not stop until they nearly killed you again. And when we saved your life you did not hesitate to swear yourself to me. Even though your spirit desired either vengeance or death your honour came before all.”
Kounos ran a hand over his face. “That is not right, son. It concerns me that you would take his actions for your guidance.” Kounos pointed at Makros. “He is alone. The deaths of those young men that followed him are a result of his sense of honour. If he had taken them away to some other land after his clan fell, then they all would live now. And if you wish to take your people back to face death then that is what you will get. Death and no more.”
“It is not about death, Kounos. Or life.” He glanced at Helhena. “Life is always better than death. But honour is above all. Honour, glory, following the path of the gods.”
Kounos sat up straighter. “It is so easy for you to say it. But honour comes and goes. Once a life is lost, it is gone for ever. Do not throw yours away. Or if you must, do not ask your people to follow you into death.”
Helhena spoke up. “I go there gladly.”
Kounos tilted his head. “Then your spirit is ill, young woman. It must be healed, not destroyed.”
“Think of this, then,” Herkuhlos said. “You will never have peace. You will never have safety. You will never have life. While evil rules over you.”
“We are still here,” Kounos said, quietly.
“Living in holes in the ground at the first sign of strangers approaching. You have no life here. You have an existence. And even that will be ended by the first warband that comes through in force.”
“No. No, we are keeping this place alive for when others come. They will come. And some may settle here with us.”
“Kounos, we have travelled the lands on this side of the Denipa. There are no good people left here. All that live in these parts serve Leuhon.”
Kounos scowled. “I do not serve him.”
“You know, Kounos, that a servant lives in fear of his master. He dares not raise a hand against him even when his back is turned because he knows his place. And that is right and proper but it is not how great men of the Heryos should be.”
Kounos pushed himself away from the table and stood. “I see you came back here merely to insult me. Well, now it is done. You may now leave.”
Herkuhlos did not move. “I came all this way because I need you.”
“You need me for what?” Kounos narrowed his eyes.
“First of all, I need you to make a weapon for me.”
Scowling, Kounos shook his head. “I already gave you a weapon. The finest weapon I ever made. And I see you bear it no longer. You wish me to give you another? I have a dagger you can have. I will gift it to you if you gift me four of your horses.”
“Your sword was good but it got stuck in a man’s skull. Some other man must have it now, back in Nemiyeh. I will take a dagger from you but I did not come to take a weapon you already had. I came to have you make a weapon for me. Something new.”
Kounos stared in astonishment. “And why would I do that?”
“Because your people are destroyed. You are the last man of your clan. You are here with three boys, one of them merely a herder, pretending that one day all will be well. That somehow more people will come and you will build your clan once more. But I do not think you truly believe that. I do not think that you are mad, simply that you have not accepted the truth. And I know what that is like because I was the same as you. I thought that I would pluck my kinfolk from bondage and return to my homeland.” Herkuhlos shook his head. “That was never going to happen but I could not accept the truth that I can never go back. My clan is destroyed. Just as yours is.”
Scowling, Kounos threw up his arms. “You think I do not know that? I live in this ruin with the spirits of my people around me. I know what I have lost. Why should I choose a path that leads to my destruction when I have three young ones who will die without me?”
Belolukos spoke softly. “You will all die here eventually.”
“Why not take your boys to the sacred forge?” Makros asked. “You might be safe there.”
Kounos was about to answer but Helhena cut him off. “Because you depended on the people of Pelhbriya to supply you with food and you cannot live there without it. And if you mean to go on here you will have to grow your grain in the fields and you will have to find cattle, sheep, pigs to keep. But you could never guard what you have. Perhaps instead you could survive in the woods, hiding from passing raiders that serve the demons, keeping pigs and collecting acorns. Is that the life you mean to live for the rest of your days, Kounos of Pelhbriya, lord of the Heryos?”
Kounos was moved by her words but still he resisted. “From the moment I saw you, girl, I knew you were a seeker of death. You mean to make me one also.”
“You are a warrior, Kounos,” Herkuhlos said. “You are the last man of Pelhbriya. Help me to destroy the demon that has done this to your people.”
He held his gaze. “For all your grand notions this is simply a matter of vengeance for you all.”
Makros growled. “Yes.”
“Vengeance and glory,” Belolukos said, shrugging.
“Vengeance, glory, or death,” Helhena said. “What else is there?”
Herkuhlos nodded. “If you refuse to make my weapon, we will fight anyway. But I would have your answer.”
Kounos sighed, shaking his head. “I am minded to agree simply to shut you all up.” He looked at Herkuhlos. “I can make you a sword. But it will take many days.”
“Take as many days as you wish. But I do not want a sword. You see, Leuhon now wears a skin of bronze.”
“A skin of bronze?”
Herkuhlos motioned with his hands as he described it. “Like a boar’s tusk cap and a leather tunic but instead of the tusks it has overlapping bronze discs about this big. They cover him from neck to groin. When a thrown spear hit him it did not penetrate. It was remarkable.”
Kounos cursed. “Marwes, you godless bastard.”
“Marwes?” Herkuhlos asked.
Kounos waved a hand. “Marwes is the best kerdos in Nemiyeh. He is Kalekka but for some reason the god put his skill into him. Just as he did with Pehur. So he made bronze armour?” He laughed ruefully. “Some of us kerdos have spoken of such a thing over the years but who would ever have so much bronze to make it?”
“You have your answer,” Belolukos said. “The demon has carried away every bronze weapon from a hundred clans.”
“However he has done it he is now protected by armour strong enough to turn aside a spear with ease. And no doubt a sword also, no matter how finely made.”
“What do you want, then?” Kounos asked, confused.
“When you gifted to me your magnificent sword I saw that in your secret place you had vast amounts of copper ingots.”
“Aye,” he said, warily. “I will use it to make weapons and tools and exchange them for food and other goods with the traders who will come up from the Euxine in summer.” He glanced at Helhena as he said it. “But I shall gift you some for this weapon. One or two ingots.”
Herkuhlos shook his head. “I will need all of them.”
It took them eight days to prepare the fuel and to make the mould and prepare everything else that they would need. The forge had been built in what was once Kounos’ own house on the other side of Pelhbriya. The wall on the entire front of the building had been cut away leaving only the posts holding up the ceiling on that side. The acolyte Pehur explained this was to let in the light so that they could see as they worked. All the interior had been cleared out other than long benches on the sides with the tools and other equipment necessary for the forging of bronze. In the centre was a kind of clay tower of waist height and in the base was made a fire. The three boys took turns in blowing air into the base of the fire through long hollow tubes.
“You must not be here,” Kounos said to Herkuhlos as the fire grew hotter. “It is a sacred place and soon we must call the god.”
“I understand.” He looked at the huge block that was to be the mould for the weapon. “Will it work, do you think?”
Kounos scowled. “Leave now. I will send for you when I need you.”
While they worked, Herkuhlos, Makros, Helhena, and Belolukos tended to the horses, prepared meals, and watched for the coming of the enemy. Always, their minds were on the forge. Smoke and heat billowed forth, along with chants sung by Kounos and the boys, occasionally rhythmic banging and every now and then curses and shouting. They seemed to go through a huge amount of wood.
Night fell and still Kounos worked. Herkuhlos paced back and forth within the centre of Pelhbriya or walked the empty streets thinking about Leuhon, about Nemiyeh, and Kreuhesh. He thought also about his own people and about what might be done for them, if any survived what was to come.
Before dawn, he woke to the sound of shouting and grabbed his spear. Along with the others he ran toward the noise but they were met in the street by Pehur, who held up his hands.
“All is well!” he cried, glancing over his shoulder. “But I think we will have to start again.”
“What is wrong?” Makros asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Nothing, lord.” He lowered his voice. “You must understand that nothing like this has ever been done.”
“Pehur!” Kounos roared from within the forge. “Where are you, you witless herder? I need you!”
Herkuhlos grabbed the boy’s shoulder. “What can I do to help?”
Pehur shook him off. “Nothing, lord. All will be well. But it may be some time.” He turned and ran back toward the forge as Kounos shouted for him again.
Belolukos and Makros muttered in annoyance as they returned to the house to sleep.
Helhena stepped close to Herkuhlos. “You have not slept all night.”
“Someone has to keep watch.”
She stepped closer. “Let the gods keep us safe until dawn.”
They retired to the empty house that they had been sharing and knew only each other until long after the sun rose. Every moment seemed imbued with greater meaning because he knew it might well be the last time he experienced it, with her or even with any other woman. Lying back with his arms around her, he watched the motes of dust swirling in the sunlight before the window and idly stroked her shoulder. What was it to lie with a woman who was not your wife nor a captive nor a servant? There was no precedent for it, as far as Herkuhlos knew, only that to lie with a woman who belonged to another man was a terrible transgression. But Helhena belonged to no man and so how could it be wrong?
“Marry her, then,” Belolukos said the next day when he spoke aloud his thoughts. They sat together on top of the northern wall of Pelhbriya, looking out for sign of Kreuhesh or any other warriors. “You will marry her eventually, why not now?”
Herkuhlos shook his head. “I do not think that is what she wants.”
Belolukos shrugged. “So?”
Behind them the forge still burned hot and the sounds of metalworking filled the air above the roofs of the houses.
“It seems unlikely that we will all live through what comes next.”
His brother was irritated. “Why are you even talking about it, then?”
He looked at him. “You know, Bel, in your own way, you can sometimes be quite wise.”
Aware he was being mocked but not understanding how, Belolukos narrowed his eyes. “And you, brother, can take your finest spear and you can shove it up your—”
“Lord!” Pehur said, sliding to a stop in the street behind them, his voice echoing off the walls of the houses. “Kounos needs you, lord. For the weapon, lord.”
Herkuhlos jumped down from the wall. “Lead the way.”
“First, you must be purified. No man can enter the god’s presence without cleansing himself. And you must leave your weapons.”
In a water trough outside the forge, Herkuhlos stripped naked and carefully washed his hands and face and then the rest of his body. The water was cold but he took his time scrubbing his skin carefully and while he did so he slowed his breathing and recited the spear chant to Kolnos. When he was cleansed he put on his tunic and stepped into the forge.
The heat hit him like a wall. Standing beside the column of clay, Kounos wore nothing but a leather apron while two of the boys knelt beside the fire and rhythmically pressed bladder bellows, the fire roaring like some wild creature. While they worked, Kounos peered into the top while he chanted words to his god and the boys repeated the chant at certain places. The boys and Kounos ran with sweat while they worked.
“Come forward, lord,” Pehur said.
He did so and Kounos noticed him, stepping away from the fire to meet him in the centre of the building. Only when they were close did Herkuhlos note the dark circles beneath his eyes and the wildness in them. It was a look he had seen in the men who danced the spear-dance for days after drinking the mead of war in the midwinter rites.
“You must give me your blood,” Kounos said, looking up at him.
“Why?”
Kounos scowled. “The god demands sacrifice. He has refused to come into our work. Now, bleed yourself.”
He nodded at Pehur before returning to the fire and the boy came forward with a small knife and a bowl. Herkuhlos took the knife from him and did as he was bid, slicing across his thumb and bleeding into the bowl. It dripped in rapidly but Pehur was not satisfied.
