~Translation Note~
Because many Earth flora and fauna are mentioned in this text, one may be tempted to assume Byntar is too coincidentally Earthlike. I have simply used English names when the species were at all similar and their differences would not affect the story. Therefore, a Byntarian chicken would not necessarily look, act, or taste exactly like a Terran chicken; the word “chicken” was merely used for simplicity’s sake to communicate a non-flying, domesticated fowl kept for eggs and meat. I have also used standard English terms for royalty (king, duke, prince, etc.) even though Byntarian traditions surrounding these ranks conflict somewhat with those of Earth. ~C.H.
~Byntarian Culture~
Byntar is a world of dualities. Twin suns, Calla and Cana, rule the days. Guarding the nights are moons Paeva and Pouren. Sentient life continues the duality decreed by suns and moons above. Chapter One
Plaera Churkot awoke in the middle of the night. She didn’t sleep well on the nights her husband Jowo had watch duty at the Institute for Training and Correction. As inconvenient as his schedule often was, she was fortunate to be married to a slave trainer. Very few apprenticeships available to the low-born offered as much pay or social standing. Not that socializing had any place in a Ganlucan peasant’s existence. It simply meant she could live outside the ITC without slave bands around her neck and wrists. She could eat whatever she could find in the woods instead of having meager portions rationed out by an owner.
Where a word has no reasonable English equivalent, I have supplied the Byntarian word. Please be advised interplanetary translation is, at best, an inexact science, and forgive my clumsiness in its practice.
Elva derives from the ancient word for “heavens,” since Elva coloring echoes the firmament. Elva hair is black as night, white as stars, or any shade of gray clouds. Gray hair is just as likely on infants as adults, as it has nothing to do with age. Their eyes reflect the skies in all its seasons: black as night, gray as the storms, or blue as a summer’s day. Elva are tall and even Elva ears point heavenward. Strong physiques and ambitious constitutions mark the Elva.
Itzi means “earth.” Itzi hair is blond, brown, or red, mirroring autumn leaves. Itzi eyes are usually brown as soil or green like grassy fields. Blue eyes occur, albeit rarely, in Itzi. Itzi blue is attributed to the sea. Itzi statures are closer to the ground and Itzi ears are round like rolling hills. Being substantially smaller and less intelligent, the docile Itzi are content to keep to themselves and allow the Elva to dominate nearly every aspect of life.
Choicest of the Twelve Kingdoms is Latoph, lying on the land’s western coast. Fertile soil and a bountiful ocean provide food for Latophians and a thriving export. Their prosperous civilization is enhanced by the mining of gold, silver, iron, and stone. Continuity of the Rebono Dynasty for the last thousand years has left a legacy of laws in Latoph which is unparalleled on Byntar.
Latophian laws concerning slavery are progressive, allowing debtors to sell both Itzi and Elva for a term of indenture that always ends on a predetermined anniversary of Queen’s Jubilee. The year of anticipated release is tattooed on the right forearm and the slave is called Numbered. Slavery of this type may also be used as punishment for minor crimes. Serious criminals and prisoners of war are usually designated Permanent Slaves, and the letter “P” is tattooed instead. Nearly all slaves wear “bands” or shackles around the wrists, ankles, and neck, but even this custom is subject to the whim of the owner.
Slavery is prohibited for children under ten and youths are automatically freed at age sixteen. Latophian law protects slaves against maiming and abuse. Though uncommon, it is not unheard of for individuals to voluntarily accept slavery as a viable option for survival. Such slaves are designated “Freewill” and can be identified by expired Numbers, an identifying Owner’s Mark, or no tattoo at all. Freewill Slaves are subject to the same protections but also the same obligations as all other slaves.
Few of the Twelve Kingdoms are as protective, but several have treaties with Latoph, prohibiting capture of slaves across their borders. The slave trade is encouraged, assimilated, and somewhat regulated by the Institute for Training and Correction, which has branches in all Twelve Kingdoms, but subject to the laws and customs of its host sovereign. The ITC also serves to facilitate return of runaways to their rightful owners.
She rolled over on the straw mattress and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. Now facing the window, she peered out into the darkness. The tiny village of Phaehad had been carved out of the Ganlucan woods for the sole purpose of hosting the ITC where her Jowo worked. Modest hovels, like theirs, were scattered outside the fortress walls. Everyone who lived here was somehow connected to the ITC, either employed there or related to someone who was.
Movement caught her eye. A wild boar or forest goat, perhaps. Crescent moons and cloudy skies offered very little light. Whatever it was moved on. Her eyelids drooped. Just as she was about to slip into slumber, a dog’s bark jolted her back to wakefulness.
Had it been a yip or two, the noise wouldn’t have garnered her attention, but the dog continued its alarm and a second dog joined the first. The barking became louder and more insistent, but slowly, the beating of hooves overshadowed the barking. Hooves? Why would anyone be coming to Phaehad in the middle of the night? It was unheard of. There was only one road in and out and nothing else ‘along the way’. Very rarely did even a lone hunter happen upon the village by accident.
Plaera peered out the window again. Shadows played over bushes, but no shapes were discernable. There was, however, more movement than she could reasonably attribute to a snuffling boar. She threw the blanket off and left the bed. The window glass was rippled and uneven. Experience informed her where to look for the clearest view. Squinting into the darkness, she still could not see what was causing the commotion.
Hoofbeats thundered against the ground. She could feel it in her feet. There had to be hundreds of horses out there, barreling through the woods. But why? The horses halted, regrouped, and spread out. At least that was the interpretation her mind supplied to what she heard and felt.
Plaera didn’t like it. A flash of light soared overhead, toward the ITC. A falling star? No, it was too large for that… and there were more than one. One, two, three, four… too many to count. Flaming arrows.
Screams of “fire” rent the night. Her heart pounding in her chest, Plaera groped in the darkness for her shoes. At first, she couldn’t find them, but once in hand, she struggled to get them on her feet. The ground outside was too rocky and full of twigs to consider running out without them. The more she tried to hurry, the slower everything moved. More screams sounded while she fumbled with the straps and buckles, her fingers shaking uncontrollably.
Before she stood again, the inside of her house became illuminated with an eerie orange glow, flickering and casting unnatural shadows on the walls. By the time she got her shoes on and ran out, the wooden ITC buildings within the wall were engulfed in inferno. She ran, calling, “Jowo! Jowo!” All around, women screamed while children cried and dogs barked.
The hoofbeats, however, had stopped. She cast a glance toward the woods. Dark figures on horseback loomed in the shadows of the flames. Their stalwart stillness made them seem surreal. Dozens and dozens of horses, lined up single-file, yet spread far apart, with the line stretching around to encircle the village.
Watching.
None of them tried to help rescue the trapped victims or join the bucket brigade. They just stood there. Silent. Still. Watching.
Pleara turned her head. She wasn’t sure the horsemen were real. In fact, she was no longer sure anything was real. It was like a nightmare. Wasn’t she sleeping when all this started? She remembered going to bed and falling asleep. Yes, that’s it. I’m having a nightmare. Yet, try as she might, no act of will would wake her.
So she ran. Gasping for air, she studied the other villagers she found running around just as frantic as she, hoping to find her husband among them. She called his name through tears as she searched. Several women shook the iron portcullis of the ITC, screaming hysterically.
Smoke filled the cold night air, stinging her eyes and vexing her lungs. It was getting harder to breathe, cry, and scream, but it being a nightmare, all those functions kept going simultaneously.
Then someone fell forward. A female voice shrieked. The fallen body had an arrow in the back. Another dropped. Another scream. Three more dropped at once. All had arrows sticking out from chest or back.
Pleara ran. The ITC was consumed in flame and the north entrance was locked. She could only hope her husband made it out of a different gate. Onlookers dropped like leaves in autumn; it was too dangerous to stand in the open. Should she try to run to the west entrance? Now frantic and confused, she kept bumping into others who’d just arrived.
“It’s not safe!”
“Go back!”
“Mama? Where’s my mama?”
“It’s a trap!”
“Run for your life!”
“It’s too late.”
“Everyone’s dead!”
“They’ve got crossbows!”
“Don’t look back!”
Pleara prayed to the Heavenlies for the nightmare to end. She coughed and choked and gasped for breath. Then pain exploded in her back, between the shoulder blades. She fell forward in slow motion, unable to make her arms move to brace the impact. It’s going to hurt when my face hits.
Darkness engulfed her, yanking her forcefully from the eerie orange landscape, out of the hysteria and out of the cold.
Her nightmare ended.
