index


Message-ID: <48177asstr$1086786602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "David da Silva" <david_n_da_silva@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Midsummer Fires 06 {Davo da Silva} {mf mm sm viol nc hist} 
Lines: 784
Date: Wed,  9 Jun 2004 09:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The Song of Kala Khoam

by David Nunes da Silva

2435 B.C.E.    The Julian Alps.



This is the third story of a trilogy.  These links go to web postings of 
each story; the web postings contain a few illustrations, some music I wrote 
for the songs, etc.
Home Page   ( http://www.angelfire.com/indie/dnds/index.htm )

I. "... and run between the fires on a warm midsummer night."
       ( http://www.angelfire.com/indie/dnds/Arkwan.htm )
II.  Brothers of the Ox-Yoke
       ( http://www.angelfire.com/indie/dnds/tektu.htm )
III. The Song of Kala Khoam
       ( http://www.angelfire.com/indie/dnds/kalakhoam.htm )

[ subject line {ASS} Midsummer Fires 05 {Davo da Silva} {mf mm sm viol nc 
hist}
   this posting is the seond half of the third story, called The Song of 
Kala Khoam, of the Midsummer Fires trilogy. ]

* * * * * * * * * *

King Taslan brought Kapi to a rest.

He looked at the bodies of the nomads.   "They are old women mostly.   The 
good fighters are in the hills."

"King, there may be high pastures in those mountains."

"What would we do with sheep, if we find them?"

"Kill them, King, and give them to the birds of the air.   The nomads can't 
survive if we kill their animals."

"Arkwan, I saw the burned girls of your village.   I dug their graves and 
carried their bodies.   I hunted your son through the forest with dogs and 
nets, when he went mad and began eating the bodies of the enemy.   But if 
Sujasa is with these nomads as a slave, if they starve, she starves."

"King, this has been a good summer for grass.   The first in a hand of 
years.   Men don't eat grass.   The nomads are only now able to put flesh on 
their bones, by eating the animals that have grazed through the summer.   If 
that is threatened, they must come out and fight.   Or flee.   But leave 
their hiding places in the mountain crags.   When they move, we can kill 
them.  You could add this land to your kingdom."

"To the High King's kingdom.   I don't have one any more.    And as you say, 
I don't eat grass.   I need men and women on the land, as much as the nomads 
need rams and ewes.    I don't have enough men and women as it is.    We 
have killed enough.   What killing can do, we have done.   They will not 
cross the mountains again.  We should go home, before the snows trap us."

There had never been much hope of finding Sujasa.   They had to go, and go 
now.   But Arkwan didn't want to say the words; to say that the search was 
over.  He tried to get Dokefalo to ride away, up the hillside, but the 
gentle old stallion was enjoying the company, and didn't want to go.   He 
didn't like blood and bodies, and felt happier when Kapi and his other 
friends were around him.    Kapi wasn't ready now, but he had an idea she'd 
have one more time before the cold.   His penis pulsed, and he remembered 
running with her across the wide grass, running faster than the summer wind 
as she teased and tantalized him; then she stopped still; she whinnied like 
a colt when he mounted and thrust home.  Her smell became even more 
wonderful when his penis drove in, in, in.  There was space for a good run 
here, and the grass was sweet.   He nuzzled her ear.  It would be good to 
run in the cold.  The wind had the smell of drifting snow.

* * * * * * * * * *

Taslan chose the high pass; it was quicker.

Not all the men had fur undercloaks, and their winter shoes were worn and 
patched.  When they came down to the trees their fingers and toes were red, 
and had no feeling in them.    Arkwan wanted to stop at the first trees.   
Taslan said: "Too much wind!"

"King, health, and a warm night!   I know these mountains.   That mountain 
there - I could see it from my high pasture.   The wind will shift at 
nightfall, and these trees will be as much shelter as you will find.   If we 
continue down into the valley, there will be no grazing."

"Then do it, Arrow master.   Let the men who are most tired rest, while the 
others can warm themselves cutting wood."

King Taslan seemed as blue around the lips as any of the men, but he would 
not lie down, but began to gather wood.    Arkwan whispered to Danha that 
she should keep an eye on the King, and then took a pair of his archers to 
look for water.   They crossed the pasture, and Arkwan noticed it had 
recently been grazed.   The sheep must have been taken down for the winter 
only days earlier.   Guessing where to look, Arkwan went to the trees at the 
edge of the pasture, and found a little hut, partly dug into the side of the 
hill.   There was smoke coming out of the roof.   A red-haired boy, naked in 
spite of the cold, stood before the door, brandishing his little spear.   
Arkwan's archers nocked arrows.

"Honor to the guard of the doorposts of this house!" Arkwan shouted.   The 
boy threw his spear, which Arkwan easily knocked aside.   He ran at Arkwan, 
waving his little flint knife.  Lumpkha charged.   Arkwan simply grabbed the 
boy, spun him around, and spanked him.  The sudden loss of dignity made the 
brave warrior into a little boy again.   He howled with rage, a baby's rage 
and not a warrior's, and he did not use the knife.

"Do you fight babies?"   A girl, older than the boy, stood at the door of 
the hut, a drawn bow pointed at Arkwan's chest.   This was some danger.  If 
she shot, he could not dodge at this range.  Arkwan knelt down, using the 
boy as a shield.  Lumpkha showed his teeth, and crouched ready to spring.   
The archers moved apart, keeping their arrows pointed at the girl.   She had 
spoken his own tongue.  Arkwan needed to show her he was not a nomad come to 
raid, but a man of her own land.  "You deserve the sheep-whip," he said to 
the boy, using the scolding that was the custom in his valley.  "Say 'I will 
obey' or you'll get it."   If mothers scolded the same way in this valley, 
the girl would remember the words as well as Arkwan did.

The boy stood still while he was spanked, biting his lip.  But as soon as 
Arkwan stopped he screamed "I will not obey!" and tried to cut Arkwan with 
his knife.   Arkwan remembered feeling this rage; it was the touch of an 
evil God - Bloodlust.   Anger so strong it was a frenzy.  Arkwan would cut 
himself, or stick thorns in his body.   He too had yelled "I will not obey!" 
  After a whipping, he would feel such anger and fury that he would hit and 
kick and bite in rage, and then he would be whipped again.  Again and again, 
until he dropped into a kind of sleep - Bloodlust whipped out of him.   But 
Arkwan was not his father.  He held the boy's wrists and waited for the rage 
to pass, enduring the boy's barefoot kicks.

The boy was surprised and infuriated.   He tried to free his hands from 
Arkwan's grip, and he looked Arkwan in the face.  Then he stopped his 
tantrum.   "Uncle Arkwan?" he said.

Arkwan did not recognize him.   But the girl was familiar.   "Are you ...?"

"Zentas daughter of Keos, daughter of Annuas.   And you are my dead uncle 
Arkwan."

The boy bowed.  "Health Uncle.  I am Annuas."

"Joy and happiness, cousins," Arkwan bowed.   "You have grown well since I 
saw you; such children must be my aunt's joy, and her boast to the gossips 
of your village."

"Mother is dead," Annuas answered.

"You are not orphans?" Arkwan asked, looking at the little hut.  "Your 
father lives?"

Zentas looked at the ground, and Annuas continued to answer for them.  "We 
don't like Father's new wife.   We stay up here.   But we're out of food, 
and she'll whip us when we go back.   Real whipping.  I'm not a baby.   And 
she won't give us much, anyway."

"But your father is alive?"

"Father is gone.   He went with the High Queen's warriors."

"Went?   Went where?   What do you mean - the High Queen."

Zentas answered: "Health, Uncle.  Warriors came.  They said they were the 
High King's warriors, but they talked about the Queen giving orders.   They 
wanted gifts, and men to go fight.   We knew King Taslan had paid tribute.  
They said our gifts weren't enough.  The warriors tied up the men, and beat 
them with javelins, until the women  brought out the food they had hidden.   
Then the warriors took the men off to fight; they had to go."

"But what are they fighting about, Cousin?"

"They said there was an evil man, a liar."

"Liar?   What sort of liar?"

"They just said, a liar."

"Zentas, cousin, I'm here with the King, with Taslan.   We have warriors.   
They'll need to eat; to rest.   Who are the leaders, of the people here?   
Of the ones who didn't go to fight?"

"There's not really anyone.       No one has any food, not enough for the 
winter.   We didn't have the Gathering of Cattle sacrifice this year at all. 
   Some people said we needed to choose a new place.   Others said we should 
still have it at your village - even though no one lives there now.   But in 
the end we didn't have it at all.   Step-mother tried to say that I should 
be elder - because we're the house of Annuas.    But everyone knew she 
wanted to be in charge, and no one likes her."

"Zentas, you need to talk to the King."

"No, not the King!"

Annuas ran, but Arkwan grabbed him.   An arrow past her face, so close she 
felt the fledging, made Zentas drop her bow.  She held her arms out in 
surrender, and an archer grabbed her.  The other pulled his cloth aside, 
penis already rising.    These were archers borrowed from the High King, 
southern men, who did not speak the nomad's tongue, nor Arkwan's.   They 
were ready to deal with these red-haired northerners just like all the 
others.

"Stop, they are my cousins!" Arkwan commanded in the tongue of the 
southerners.   They didn't seem to take this seriously.   "If you harm her, 
I will kill you!"

"O, we won't harm her, teacher.   Not really,"  and the archer, his penis 
stiff, gave Zentas a kiss, and pulled her cloak aside, tearing it.   Arkwan 
shifted the frantic kicking boy to his other arm, and shoved his dagger a 
finger-width into the archer's bottom, and twisted.    The archer laughed, 
and waved his thanks, and used his own dagger to tickle Zentas's bottom.   
Arkwan's men were veterans, older than he was; they had followed him through 
spears and arrows that fell like rain; stood beside him as horsemen charged, 
responding to his thoughts like a flock of birds turning on a wingstroke, or 
like practiced dancers moving together to the drum.   But they weren't 
afraid of him.   Or of anything.  That was the way Arkwan wanted it.   But 
now that the killing was over for a while, perhaps he needed to put some 
fear into them.   They already drew lots every morning to decide who had to 
wake him up.

The archer looked at his arrow master as he was thrusting home.   He 
stopped, pulled out, and stood looking at the ground.   He bowed.  Dropped 
to his knees.  "Bring her," Arkwan said.  "And put her cloak back on."

"Why is there no food, cousin?" he asked as they walked back to the camp. 
"This has been a good year for grass, and you have mostly grazing here, 
don't you?"   But his captive would not answer.

But when the girl was politely asked her name and parentage by a cloakless, 
sweaty man who was chopping up a fallen tree, she responded willingly 
enough.   It was Annuas who recognized him as their king.

Arkwan said: "Food and good appetite, King.  The High King's warriors came 
and took men off to a war.   Against an evil man, they said.  A liar.   
These are my cousins.   They say there is no food, that the people here will 
starve before harvest.   The High King's warriors took food, but I think 
that is not the only reason.  The  warriors did not take all the sheep, for 
many have recently grazed."

Arkwan continued: "King,  last year - no, the one before - you came for the 
Gathering sacrifice, at my village.   The shepherds of this valley always 
came to our village, driving their flocks.  After the sacrifice, there is 
mead and feasting, and singing, and races, and at the Gathering of Cattle 
those of us with sheep give sheep and wool to those without, and those with 
good fields promise gifts of spelt and barley.   The fire is put out, and in 
the cold wind, in the dark, around the dead fire, the God comes, the Captain 
of the Horses of the Blast.   And in frenzy men and women give - more and 
more."

"It is the same in the King's village, Arrow master."

"Last year my father gave half his flock.   And Euarz promised to give 
Father grain.   Euarz is headman of a village with broad ploughland. And in 
the dark of every moon Euarz came - he and his sister - to the sacrifice to 
the Lady.  Every moon except for winter ploughing.  They carried spelt and 
pease to give my father, and Father feasted our village on bread and 
pottage, every moon, and gave a young ram for the sacrifice.   Euarz's 
sister is a priestess; she gelded the ram, and she spent the night with her 
sweetheart - my wife's cousin - they had promised to marry when her belly 
swelled, but it never did."

Arkwan continued - "But, King, the Gathering did not happen this year.   I 
think the people here have slaughtered the sheep they would usually give 
away.   Or they soon will.  They must - they have no lowland grazing.   And 
they have no ploughland.     Usually, they can count on gifts of grain 
coming in, through the year.   But this year, they made no gifts of sheep, 
and were given no promises of grain.   So they have only mutton, nothing 
else to eat, and the mutton will not last them until next year's slaughter.  
  And where people have ploughland but no high pasture, there will be grain, 
but not enough meat or cheese."

"Well, my men must have food, Arkwan.   We will take meat, since they have 
it here.   Perhaps we can send some food before the storms cut off these 
northern valleys."

"I think these northern valleys have food, King - perhaps more than the rest 
of your kingdom.   What must happen is that the sheep here, if they haven't 
been slaughtered, should be driven to the villages with fields.   And then 
the farmers must bring gifts of spelt or barley every moon."

Zentas said: "Health, Uncle.   If we give our sheep away, we'll have less 
food.   And they may not promise us any barley, without the Lord of the 
Storm to make them generous."

King Taslan said: "I will tell them they ought to give."

Zentas said: "King, they hate the High King so much, they hate you for 
giving him tribute.   You can take their barley with your whips, but they 
will not give it to us."

"Hate the High King?   Take barley with whips?   What are you talking 
about?"

Zentas was silent.   Arkwan said: "She told me the High King's warriors 
demanded gifts, and when they didn't get them, they beat the men with spears 
until the women brought out hidden food.   That was food those women needed 
to feed their children."

Zentas said: "King, a good journey - away from us.   The people honor the 
house of Annuas.   If Arkwan stays - Arkwan returned from the dead - he will 
be obeyed as elder."

"I cannot spare him.   If the High King is fighting a war, we must go to 
him."

Arkwan said: "King; I will ride to the village of Euarz - the village where 
Euarz used to be headman.  I will take Zentas, if she can hang on.   At the 
village of Euarz I will say: 'These valleys have an elder now: Zentas 
daughter of Keos, of the house of Annuas.'   And in this valley I will say 
the boy is headman - but choose a woman to help him.  I'll make promises I 
can't keep - make threats I can't carry out.     They will know my cousins 
are watching, and that I'll be back.   And perhaps enough food will be given 
so that everyone lives through to next harvest.    I'll need Kapi.   
Dokefalo needs a day's rest, at least."

"I can spare you for a day.  The men will need to rest, as well as the 
horses.  But then we must press south.   Do not ride her hard - or yourself. 
  I need you both."

"Come cousin.   Do not be afraid of Kapi - it will make her nervous.   She 
is kind, to those who trust her."

"Are we going to ride at night?"

"We must, but not until moonrise - I hope you know the way."

"I've been.   But I've never been on a horse.   Do you know the song "Rhonan 
the Horseman?"

Arkwan bowed to his king.    "I'll be back, and we shall ride south.   But I 
may not be your arrow master when we do."

"Not arrow master?"

"King, I think I know the name of that evil liar our High Queen is fighting. 
   I think he is Arkwan.   Of the house of Annuas."

* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *

The High Queen's warriors waited on the hilltop.

The path to the east stretched across the valley, between fields that were 
ready for winter ploughing.   The path could be seen on the other side of 
the river, to a point where it climbed the hillside and vanished into the 
trees.   The Queen's warriors watched.    Distant specks - the enemy - came 
out of the trees, along the path; walking along in no great hurry.   When 
the first warriors reached the river, they stripped and bathed, and then ate 
a little food.   And still the line of specks was coming out of the trees.

Scouts spotted the Queen's warriors on the hill, and the advancing warriors 
moved across the plain with more speed and purpose.   They assembled at the 
foot of the hill.    The Queen's warriors could hear their shouts and yells; 
they looked like a crowd of revelers at some great sacrifice - a king-making 
or a midsummer dance.   They did not look like warriors before a battle.   
No move was made to send out squads to surround the hill.   It was just a 
vast crowd of armed men, and boys, and many women.   It took a long time 
until the last of them were gathered on the plain.

The Queen, with three robed priests, walked down the hill, to a point well 
within arrow range.  She climbed a little hillock, trampling down the shrubs 
and brambles.  "Men of my Kingdom, what make you here?   I am your Queen.   
The man you follow, is he King?   Has he been chosen, in council?   Has the 
mare run?   Has the sacrifice of seed been made?   Do the Gods approve what 
you do here?"

Tektu was lifted above the heads of the warriors by strong men.  If the 
priests had bows under their robes, Tektu was in range, but other men were 
lifted to guard him with shields.   He faced his warriors.   'Warriors of 
the Kohiyossa!   The Queen has slaughtered bards.   And yet she asks - Do 
the Gods approve!   The Kohiyossa, a little baby, has been taken.    Let her 
show him safe, if she wishes to keep her life.  All saw the God dance, but 
if the Queen or anyone denies it, we will let them be.   We are here for the 
lives of the bards she has killed, and the life of the baby she has stolen.  
   We are here for the Law-Singer."

The Queen cupped her hands around her mouth to shout to the host: "Men of my 
Kingdom, and women!   The Gods hate these lying claims.   The priests know 
the songs and sacrifices that the Gods prefer.   We serve the Gods, as our 
fathers and mothers did, as their fathers and mothers before them.   We see 
the Gods in our villages.   Men are not Gods.    The Gods hate these lying 
men who claim to be Gods - who say we do not need the priests.   The Gods 
will punish us if we serve these liars.   Worship the Gods as your fathers 
and mothers did."

Tektu shouted: "Our fathers and mothers told us that the God we do not name 
has often come to dances.   Were they liars?   Or is it the Queen, who says 
this is impossible?   The Queen, who says that priests can tell Gods what to 
do?"

The Queen was furious.  "Men who fight against me, beware!  I have few 
warriors here, it is true.   The warriors of my kingdom were sent to the 
north, with Taslan, to protect you all.   But Taslan has sent word: they 
return before the sun moves in the sky.    King Taslan and his mighty heroes 
will defeat you: you are only shepherds, and ploughmen.   They will sweep - 
like the wind - through the chaff.   Save your lives, flee!  Or wait - you 
will see my words are true.  Do not let the liars lead you to death."

For a while, there was silence.   The Queen remained on the hillock, far 
from her warriors on the hilltop.  Then Tektu gave a signal, and a ram's 
horn sounded.   When the echoes of the hornblast died away, his warriors 
looked at each other, but no one began to march.  Again, for a while, there 
was silence.   Then a man, an archer, pushed through the front ranks, and 
began to stroll up the hill.  He had a limp. When he was near the Queen, he 
turned and faced her. "Queen, great honor." he shouted.    "I ask for the 
life of Sujasa - a woman who has done no wrong.   I ask for the life of her 
son Annuas, called by some the Kohiyossa.  How comes a High Queen to seek 
the life of a baby?   Have you condemned him for some crime?  Did he wake 
you with his crying?"

The Queen said nothing.   The archer pulled an arrow from his quiver, and 
nocked it to his bowstring.   There was a little mumbling among the watchers 
below.   The Queen made no move to shield herself.   But the archer did not 
shoot her.   He shot, badly, up the hill toward the warriors standing on the 
hilltop.   The arrow did not even reach them.   He turned to the Queen 
again.   "I ask the life of Sujasa, and her son," he shouted.   Then he 
began to walk up the hill, stopping from time to time to shoot an arrow at 
the warriors on the hilltop.   When he was close enough that his arrows 
reached them, they blocked the arrows with their shields.

The archer had not faced  the warriors below as he addressed the Queen, and 
no one could see his face.   But  a few had seen him as he had pushed 
through the ranks.    And they knew him.   Soon the word passed to all the 
warriors standing on the plain.    "They say he is Fiya the son of Aher.   
Nakien's student."

Fiya limped closer and closer to the warriors on the hilltop, his arrows 
becoming harder to dodge or block, as the range became less.   He came to a 
very short range indeed, and slowly drew his last arrow and nocked it to his 
bowstring.   He fell dead with at least a score of arrows in him.

The horn sounded again, and the spearmen, row after row, walked up the hill.

* * * * * * * * * *

The spearmen, row after row, walked up the hill.

There were some shouts, and soon everyone was looking at the northern hills. 
   A ragged band of dirty tired men, some leading exhausted horses, were 
coming down the path.   King Taslan had come in time.   The horns played a 
different tune, and the warriors of the Kohiyossa halted.

The two sides stood still, and waited while Taslan's band crossed the 
valley, and the river.    They came to the foot of the hill.    "Stop there, 
or we attack you now," a spearwoman said, standing in front of the warriors 
on the plain.    Arkwan knew her: it was Kahela - the woman who had been 
with his son when he died.    What was she doing here, dressed as richly as 
a queen?   She saw him, too, and pointed him out to the man by her side - a 
wvaksa or prince.   The word passed from mouth to mouth - a murmur passed 
through all the hosts, across the plain.

Taslan signaled his men to halt, and Arkwan tried to arrange his archers 
into some kind of defense.   The position was impossible.   And he did not 
know whom he would be fighting - this huge mass of men, or the small band 
who held the hilltop.  If they had come to rescue the band on the hilltop, 
Arkwan doubted they could.   If they could join up with them, then although 
they could not win, they might be able to retreat, to scatter into the hills 
and forests.   The rearguard would be slaughtered; some of the others would 
live another day.   But they could not join with the small band on the 
hilltop.    Separated, they could hope for nothing but to take some enemies 
with them.

"Arkwan, brother.   How may I serve you?"   It was Tektu, held up on the 
shoulders of his men.    Arkwan had sent Tektu, a boy just tattooed, as a 
spy into the land of the enemy.    Sent him, with Kahela and Poradis, to 
rescue, somehow, a baby boy.   Tektu had called himself the first warrior of 
the Kohiyossa.   The only one, then.    He had a war council about him now, 
and a bodyguard of heroes, and around them, filling the plain, a sea of 
warriors - host upon host - each host with some wvaksa or hero to lead it.   
The nearest host was led by Kahela, with a king beside her, and with Poradis 
at her other side.  Only some war-band in an ancient song could match this 
one for size.   But the men were skinny, and badly dressed for the cold.   
Their weapons were not the best.    They were not warriors, then - farmers 
and shepherds who had taken up such weapons as they had - some carried only 
slings.

With Tektu and Kahela leading them, there could be no doubt - these vast 
hosts were the warriors of the Kohiyossa.   Arkwan did not know what Taslan 
would do.    Taslan had said he would not fight against the High King.   As 
far as he had known then, he could not - half the men he led were the High 
King's own warriors.    Taslan had come south to serve the High King, but he 
had urged Arkwan to flee into exile.  Arkwan would not go.    They had not 
known, until now, that there were any warriors of the Kohiyossa, let alone 
hosts of  them.  In this battle, the High Queen would lose.   If Taslan 
loyally served her, he would die, and so would all his men.

Tektu was looking at the ground, still finding it hard to look into the 
God's eyes - even into eyes the God had once used.   But he slowly brought 
his eyes up, to look across the space between them.    "Brother," he 
shouted, "there was a battle at the village of the bronze makers.   Frah the 
wife of Tlossos fled with the Kohiyossa, but she was ambushed and killed, by 
the Queen's warriors.   Your son Annuas.   The Queen has him - we don't know 
if he is alive."

Arkwan did not answer.

The High Queen and the priests walked around the great mass of spearmen on 
the hill.   It became clear that one of the robed figures was bound, and 
resisting, and was dragged by the other two.    They were in close range of 
countless arrows.   The aimed arrows followed the Queen as she walked across 
the hill.  She reached a point where she could shout to Taslan's warriors.   
  She shouted: "King Taslan - these men are enemies.   Kill them!"

King Taslan shouted: "Royal Queen, a good appetite and a pleasant dinner.  I 
know these men - they are of your own kingdom.   Some are of kingdoms that 
give the High King tribute.  Some of them are from my kingdom.  What 
complaint brings them armed against you, the Lady of our High King?   Does 
the High King parley and hear their words?    I would hear their words as 
well.   I must hear the complaints from men of my own kingdom - that is the 
Law.   I can't fight men of my own kingdom, unheard.   The Law and the 
Sky-Father forbid it."

The Queen shouted: "Men - my men - warriors of the High King - kill Taslan.  
Kill these enemies."

Taslan said "Warriors, wait for my command."    Arkwan turned to look at his 
archers.   They looked at him.   Arkwan shouted: "Archers, wait for Taslan's 
command."    In a battle, he always knew what his men were thinking - what 
each of them was thinking.   They would not obey the Queen.

One of the priests was Taucon, from the village of the weavers.  He and 
Arkwan saw each other, and stared.  Taucon spoke to the Queen, who pointed 
at Arkwan and shouted:  "That man there is hated by the Gods.  He claims to 
be a God.   He is a liar.   He is evil.   He must be killed!"

Taslan shouted, "Long life, Queen.  You wish us to kill these men, you call 
them enemies, because they say that a God danced, on the legs of a man.   
Everyone saw the God's face at that dance.  The God was there.   Why should 
we help you fight your own people?"

The Queen shrieked, and jumped, and suddenly she stood with her dagger at 
the throat of the bound robed figure.  Taucon pulled back the hood.   It was 
Sujasa.

The Queen shouted: "Taslan, order your men to fight, or this woman dies."

King Taslan, after a few moments, shouted to his warriors: "Men, we fight on 
the side of the High Queen."

Taslan's warriors looked at their arrow master.  Most were the High King's 
warriors, sent to raid the nomads under Taslan's command.    They were 
willing to obey Taslan, and certainly willing to fight for the High Queen.  
But if they fought against this sea of men, they would lose.   And they 
didn't know why they were fighting.    They did not think their arrow master 
was an evil liar.

But if Arkwan said they should fight, they would.   If he wanted to fight 
those who said he was a God, that must be the right thing to do.   He had 
always managed to avoid battles he could not win, and win the ones he fought 
- even when it seemed impossible.   He had never failed them.   They would 
follow him, if he chose to fight.   They would follow him, and expect to 
win.  Arkwan stood perfectly still, and said nothing.

After a while, a few of Taslan's warriors walked away, toward the hills.    
The High Queen plunged her fine Kros into Sujasa's throat.  Arkwan's arrow 
smashed into the Queen's skull.  Her little band of warriors left the 
hilltop, and walked down to the waiting spears.

* * * * * * * * * *

Arkwan said, Honor, King; the battle is over.

Taslan said: "I am no king.   I have no kingdom any more.    No one trusts 
in the House of Kahul."

"I do.   Stay and be king."

"And you could make them accept me?   You could.   But I will not stay for 
that.    Honor, King Arkwan.    Or High King Arkwan - Tektu will not refuse, 
if you ask.   But you won't ask.    Too close to being a God, for you.    
You don't even want to be king of the few mountain valleys I had from my 
father.    But you will be - you'll find no one else.  No one but a fool 
would be king, and have a God under him.   Worst of all a God who doesn't 
want to be one.  I'm not such a fool.   I hope your king-making goes better 
than mine did.   At least your Queen loves you.   And you love your people.  
  You would not betray them to their deaths."

"Friend, stay!"

"I can't.   I mean - Honor, King, I can't.    Punish me for not speaking 
properly, King.   It must be death or exile for me.    For I have been king, 
and am king no longer.  It will be exile - I give you that as a gift, 
friend."

"And the boy?"

"Annuas is mine -  sometimes a man knows when he has begotten a child.  I 
will find him before you do, I think. I take him, or you kill me.   King."

"Where will you go?"

"King, where you won't find us.   No, why should I fear you - I am no 
threat.  The house of Kahul has no followers.   I will go to my cousin, who 
is trying to conquer the island in the northern sea.   He will need 
warriors.   I will get on my horse, find the boy, and go."

"The house of Kahul has one follower, at least.   If the kingship does come 
to me, then I will send you wealth.   I will bring it to you, and fight by 
your side.   And visit my son.   As soon as the kingdom can spare me.    
High King Tektu - if Tektu is chosen - will be glad to see me go."

"King, he may not spare you soon.   You have a magnificent band of warriors 
- the warriors of the Kohiyossa - and no Kohiyossa.   Such weapons itch the 
hand.   Tektu will be no different.   He will grow so big he will fight my 
cousin, or make alliance - and then the warriors of the green Earth will not 
stand against them."

Arkwan - King Arkwan - spoke.   It was a judgment:  "High King Tektu will 
tell your cousin, that if he wants an alliance, he should make you king of 
the island in the northern sea.   I will see to it.  You were the best king 
that ever was.   You did nothing wrong, ever.   Nothing that I do not wish I 
had done."

Taslan sat quietly for a time.   The corpse-birds circled above the 
battlefield.   Taslan said: "It is too far for Kapi - I will choose a young 
stallion, if my King will give him to me.   You may have Kapi for your 
king-making.   The one perfect horse.   She deserves to make a better king 
than me."

* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *

Arkwan was risking a spanking; he was supposed to be asleep.

But he had to know how the story turned out.    He wanted to hear the part 
that Daddy said would give him bad dreams.   But it was just something about 
a dance, about a man sticking his pisser in a lot of women.   That wasn't 
going to give him bad dreams.  He knew all about girls' pissers, about boys' 
pissers going in.   He wasn't a baby.   The man at the dance was Daddy's 
grandfather, the one who was named . . ..

"Arkwan!"

He'd been seen.   It was Daddy.   Arkwan scampered back to the sleeping 
place, and cuddled in with his sister Danha.   He hoped Daddy wouldn't 
bother to come after him, and he closed his eyes, but he heard the heavy 
footsteps, and found himself picked up, kissed, and slung across Daddy's 
shoulder.   Back at the fire, Daddy didn't give him a spanking, but set him 
down to sit by the fire.   Daddy was leaving it to him.   Arkwan sighed.   
When Daddy left it to him, there was no way to get away with anything.   He 
headed back to the sleeping place.  But then he heard in his ear the little 
voice.    It said: "I'm leaving it to you, Arkwan."   Arkwan sighed again, 
and went back to the fire, and bent across Daddy's lap.     Well anyway, it 
was better than going to bed.

But before Daddy could start spanking, the King spoke: "You needn't be hard 
on the boy, Sindjas.    It's good he wants to hear about the heroes of the 
past, his own ancestors."

Daddy said: "Indeed, King Girtu.   Let us ask what he heard.   Arkwan, who 
was my grandfather?"

"King Arkwan!"    Arkwan turned to look at Daddy's face.

"Who was he?"

"He was a hero."

"Why?"

"Because he sat at the feet of the Goddess."

"What Goddess?" the King asked.

"Lady Sugga the Consort of the Sky-Father."

Daddy smacked him and said: "Arkwan!  You're talking to the King!   Speak 
honor!"

"Great honor, King, and, and, ... a good time with the slave-girl."

The grown-ups laughed, and Daddy spanked him hard.   Arkwan looked at all 
the laughing faces.

"With your pisser in her pisser!" he shouted above the sound of the smacks.

The grown-ups gasped, and Daddy spanked really, really hard.   It was worth 
it.   And it didn't last long, because the King said "Sindjas, enough!   
That is a brave boy.  Will he have his Little Penises this year?    I'd like 
to watch him shoot.    Or maybe, Arkwan, you'd like to come with me, and 
train with my boys, and Princess Dafnya?"    The King reached over and 
tousled Arkwan's hair.   "Tektu is older than you, but he's frightened of 
spankings - you laugh at them, and are even more a rascal.  Dafnya's the 
same, you'll like her.   Come sit in my lap, Arkwan, and tell me, was there 
nothing else that made King Arkwan a hero?   I lived with him when I was 
your age, when my father was fighting in the northern island.  I used to sit 
on his lap just like this, and look at his long white beard.  He had a dog 
named Lumpkha too.  He never spanked, not for anything, not even if I woke 
him up from a nap.  But after my Little Penises, the javelin master switched 
me, so I went to my kind uncle Arkwan for protection.  He looked at me - 
well, after that I was ashamed to be afraid.   Every time I'm frightened, 
even now, I remember him, and then I don't want to do the cowardly thing.  
Wasn't he a hero for something else besides meeting Sugga the Law-Singer?"

Arkwan said, "King, honor, and  ... pleasure..."    This got a laugh, and he 
looked at Daddy.   Safe in the King's lap, he added: "... tonight."   The 
grown-ups really laughed at that.  Daddy looked ready to cry, but he gave 
Arkwan a wink - you win, but just you wait, was what he meant.   Arkwan 
winked back - we'll see about that.  Arkwan thought, if the High King of the 
green Earth does judge at my Little Penises, that will help Daddy be 
headman.

Arkwan told the King: "King Arkwan stuck his pisser in a lot of woman at a 
dance."   The King enfolded Arkwan in his cloak, and shifted him from his 
lap to his knee, so he could look at the boy's dirty face.   Arkwan grinned, 
but he didn't like having his bottom stuck out over the side of the King's 
knee.   It's a little too handy, Arkwan thought.  If he doesn't laugh, I'm 
going to be across this lap instead of on it.

Arkwan spread his knees and showed the King his penis.  "I'd like to do that 
too, King.   I'd like to stick this pisser in and pull it out again, in a 
lot of girls' pissers, like you ..."

The King gave a sharp smack to Arkwan's bottom.

"... do with this one."     He grabbed the bulge in the King's cloth.    The 
grown-ups didn't laugh at that.   The King did.    But even so he pushed 
Arkwan's head down, so his bottom stuck way out, and spanked him.     This 
wasn't the way Daddy spanked, and Arkwan didn't like it.   But it made it 
easier to escape.   He didn't know what would happen.    Whipped maybe.   
There was a pig whip hanging from a peg on the wall.   Or he might be sent 
to bed.   But the danger made it more exciting.

The King spanked hard and didn't stop.  Arkwan waited until he was very 
sore, but when he had been spanked as much as he thought was fair, he jumped 
up, looking behind to see if the King would chase him.   He would.  They ran 
around the fire, grown-ups scattering.   Arkwan jumped across the fire.   
When the King ran to the other side, he jumped again.  But he tripped when 
he landed, and the King grabbed him before he could get up.   The King 
carried him over to the wall, and took down the whip.

"But he stuck his pisser in a lot more women than you ever could, King!"

This time, the King really laughed.  He tossed Arkwan in the air, and kissed 
him, and sat down with Arkwan snuggled close to his chest, and kissed his 
forehead, running his hand through his hair.   When Daddy kissed and hugged 
like this before a spanking, that meant a long hard one.   Oh well.   It was 
fair.   Arkwan was going to get the first pig-whipping of his life.  He had 
wondered what a pig-whipping felt like, and now he was going to find out.   
He wished the King would stop cuddling and start whipping, he didn't like 
this waiting.   He wondered if he would cry or not.   Daddy's hardest, 
longest spankings didn't make him even think about crying, as long as they 
were fair.   He cried when something wasn't fair, even when it happened to 
someone else.  But the King just cuddled Arkwan into his arm, and started to 
talk to some grown-ups.   Arkwan had won again; he'd been too wicked to be 
whipped.

The King's words "a brave boy" rang in his ears - he couldn't stop hearing 
them.   Those words had made him brave enough to tease the King - and the 
King liked him for it.   That might help Daddy.    Arkwan liked being wicked 
and getting away with it - but you couldn't get away with it every time.  He 
wriggled his warm sore bottom on the King's lap. The king's spanking had 
hurt even more than Daddy's.   He wondered if it felt this good, after a 
whipping.  Wrapped up in the King's cloak, against his wrinkled skin, as the 
King accepted the  flattery of the grown-ups, Arkwan breathed deeply, very 
excited.    He felt the God's touch, on the backs of his ears.   The unnamed 
God.  But the King's hand was on the handle of the whip.  The next bad thing 
I do, Arkwan thought, I'm going to get it.  It's too risky to try anything 
now.

"I remember him, and then I don't want to do the cowardly thing."    That 
was what the King had said, talking about the way King Arkwan made him feel. 
  Perhaps, Arkwan thought, if I am wicked enough. . .   And then Arkwan 
thought of a plan.   A plan to whip the bottom of the High King of the green 
Earth with a pig whip.  He needed to get the loincloth off first.   "Honor, 
King - do you want any more beer?" he asked.   If this works, Arkwan 
thought, Daddy will be so angry, but the King might say I'm a brave boy 
again.   If it doesn't - well - I'll find out what a pig-whipping feels 
like.

But then he looked at Daddy.

The laughing crinkle in the corner of Daddy's eye, was gone.    Suddenly the 
game wasn't fun any more.   He wasn't scared of the King, but he hadn't 
thought about how scared Daddy would be.

Arkwan said: "What really made King Arkwan a hero, King, was being with the 
Goddess when She was on the green Earth.  He took baths with Her, and She 
taught him wisdom, the holy Law.   That is why he is a hero.   It's almost 
as if he was a God."

* *  *  *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

- December 2003 -
David Nunes da Silva

_________________________________________________________________
Check out the coupons and bargains on MSN Offers! http://youroffers.msn.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+