Flame Soul by Sandler L. Bryson

Author:Sandler L. Bryson [Bryson, Sandler L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

III. Death by Stone and Tears

The Tears of Otala; large stones so named because of their tear dropped shape. It was said the rocks were formed when the god Otala looked down upon humanity and cried with joy at the beauty of creation. Two of his tears fell to earth and created the twin stones. Kasim crouched down on a dune overlooking the valley that held Otala’s Tears. Stars glistened like polished gems in the night sky. The moon was full. From his vantage point Kasim had a clear view of the valley. Ya-Sudala’s words had been true. The Banula were spread out in the valley below bustling around like ants on a dirt mound.

It had taken him over a month to reach his destination. During which time Ya-Sudala had come to him in feverish dreams and taught him more about channeling spirit magic. The images Kasim recalled from the dreams were so foreign and alien that Kasim often wondered if he really was being instructed by the Nguvu Ya Kale or if everything had all been in his imagination. The feel of his recently healed skin reminded him of his mission and the strength of his patron.

“Unless all of this is in my mind too. For if I was mad how would I really know?” Kasim asked.

Kasim shook his head and pushed such thoughts away. If he was mad then it was irrelevant because everything thus far would have been a dream. If it was a dream then whatever he felt (the pain, the loss, the sadness) were still real feelings as were all feelings. No. He would not stop. He would carry this through and if it was merely a dream bring it to completion.

From where he lay Kasim could see men crouched around campfires drinking and conversing in loud raucous voices. Women were also huddled together in groups singing, and playing musical instruments, and talking with each other. Children ran around in small packs screeching with delight and chasing each other. A breeze, warm and gentle, bereft of the sun’s scorching heat wafted across the camp carrying the scent of cooking meat and spices. It was a pleasant scene.

Much like the scene in my village before they rode in and slaughtered everyone thought Kasim. His lips twisted in a bitter smirk as he spied the man he held most responsible for the raid.

The man called Tumo sat at a campfire on the far edge of the camp. Despite the dark robes that billowed around him Kasim could tell he was a tall strapping man standing easily over six feet in height and of good a weight (most of it muscle) to boot. Tumo’s skill as a warrior was legendary. Though one could not tell it by Tumo’s current demeanor the big warrior was known to be a savvy and guarded if vicious opponent. Tumo currently sat on a stone drinking a flagon of banana beer. The man’s dark face was split into a big smile showing nearly perfect white teeth.

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