The Shamans at the End of Time by Florian Armas

Author:Florian Armas [Armas, Florian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Five dug-out canoes were aligned tightly to the sandy bank, kept in place by long ropes. They were raw things; boats carved from one long trunk of an old oak, but good enough to carry both men and their merchandise across the wide river. Spread between the trees along the shore, forty men were ready to board them. The morning was cold and without wind. On the opposite shore, thin stretches of fog masked the land. That made the men more nervous than usual. They were going to trade with the Vlahins, but this time there was more than trading in their plans.

“Let’s go.” Maduk finally gave the signal, and people started to load the boats with pottery and other things they knew would appeal to the Vlahins. They were proud of what their people could produce, and considered the Vlahins backward. It did not count to them that most of the objects were made by slaves. Slavery was a common thing for Kala people.

When the last thing was loaded, the men moved, nervously, to board their designated boats. Three boats would go with Maduk, carrying all the merchandise. The other two boats went with Turgil, and they were the first to leave the bank. When the last man took his place, long oars started to move in long rhythmic sweeps. Half an hour later, the other three boats left the shore too. Heavier, they were slower to traverse the water, but Maduk was in no hurry. He knew that good timing was needed, and Turgil’s team had a much longer journey in front of them. They would land on the opposite shore, several miles to the north, and take a hidden path that would lead them toward the northern road going into the Vlahin village. More mist came down from the mountains, almost covering the river. The oarsmen moved faster, afraid to lose direction. Around them, the Great River was calm and there was no sign of whirlpools or large rocks. Just half a mile downstream, the river boiled, and no boat could survive. With some sort of hidden irony, that place was named The Living Water. It was true that he water was like a living thing, crashing furiously through the rocks, but any man falling in there was a dead man.

“Men on the right, row harder,” Maduk said, his hand trailing in the water, trying to feel the slightest change in the current. It would be no harm if we landed a bit further upstream. His mind went ahead, imaging his road toward the Vlahin village. He had walked that road many times in the past, and he still remembered the bitterness of his first visit. It was only a few days after they were defeated in the last attempt to conquer the opposite bank of the Great River. His father, and Chieftain of the northern Kala clans, was dead, and he had to retrieve the body. His uncle was dead too, and he had to accept his cousin Turgil in his team.

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