Episode 013: Traitor
“The wolfmen salivated as they chased our ancestors across the plains. Their fangs dripped with blood, and their paws kicked up clouds of dust.”
The entire village gathered around the communal fire and listened to Chief Ledu, son of Levi, tell everyone the story about their ancestors. It was a cold clear night, and the stars shone brightly. The elders, who had once sat around the chief, were now dispersed among the crowd. The strongest men had the honor of sitting next to the chief, a tradition that went back only a single generation. Flint listened to the chief’s captivating story. He greatly admired Chief Ledu and his strength. The chief was the tallest and broadest man in all of Kurhass.
“While our four ancestors ran from the wolfmen, a bright red ball of fire descended from the sky and landed on the grass.” The chief pointed to the red star in the sky, directly above their fire, and everyone looked up in awe. “The being in the red fire told our ancestors not to run but to stand and fight, and he would grant them victory in his name.”
The chief threw a ball of rolled-up leaves into the fire, creating a flash of flame and light.
“Two of our ancestors ignored the word of the god Warez, and they perished that day. But the other two turned around, faced off against the hundred wolfmen charging them, pulled out their knives and bows, and fought off the attackers… killing every last one of them. They were victorious because the god Warez blessed them.”
Flint listened to the story but was confused by the events being told. As he looked around the fire, he could see that others were also lost. The chief himself looked at all of the visitors and must have known something was wrong.
“How did our ancestors perish that day if the wolfmen were vanquished?” asked a young lad.
“Did they die in the grasslands?” asked another child.
Flint did not dare speak up against the chief, for he knew such disrespect could get him ejected from the tribe, but the children were free to ask the chief questions around the communal fire.
“That is a good question, young sap,” said Chief Ledu. “I’ll let Elder Stone finish the story for me.”
The chief held his hand out to the elder sitting across the fire.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve shared this story, so bear with me,” said Elder Stone as he stood up from his seat and walked to the other side of the fire, sitting on the high log to look down at everyone. “As I recall, the wolfmen were in great numbers, and the two sisters of Kurhass ran while the two brothers stayed behind and fought. Our boys were great with the bow, and they held off the attackers, but they were running out of arrows and were about to be overrun by the wolfmen. Then came the divine twins, two young saviors, standing on horses’ backs. The divine twins rescued the sons of Kurhass and escaped the horde of wolfmen, carrying them safely back to Kurhass. All four of our ancestors grew up and had children of their; many of us here are descended from these four brothers and sisters.”
Chief Ledu’s expression turned sour, and he locked his narrowed gaze on Elder Stone. “That is not how the story goes, Elder Stone,” he said. “It seems you are forgetting events in your old age.”
The mood grew quiet and awkward as the chief drank from his cup of ale. Only when one of the young warrior dropped his cup of ale, shattering it on the rocks, did the rest of the village burst out into laughter, breaking the awkward silence.
“Get your sleep tonight,” said Chief Ledu. “For tomorrow, we take what is ours.”
Almost everyone stood up from the fire and returned to their family huts, including Flint. But Chief Ledu and several of his closest warriors remained at the campfire, drinking their ale.
“Was that story told the way you remember it as a child, Father?” asked Flint’s youngest son when they returned to the privacy of their family hut.
“I have never heard that story before,” answered Flint.
“That was a disgrace,” said Flint’s father-in-law. “We used to hear that story when I was a child. We never spoke of the god Warez. Chief Ledu may be the strongest man in Kurhass and a fierce warrior, but he does not understand our traditions and customs.”
“You should watch your tongue,” said Flint’s eldest son. “Ledu is brave and strong. He is our chief, and we must follow him.”
“When I was your age, we had a brave and strong chief too,” answered Flint’s father-in-law. “But he was killed by Ledu’s father. Ever since then, Kurhass has gone down a dark path. Our village has become violent, and our traditions have slowly eroded.”
“Only the strong survive,” said Flint’s eldest son. “Chief Ledu says that Warez favors the strong, while the weak will sink into the mud and disappear into the earth.”
Flint’s father-in-law scoffed and retired to his bed on the far side of the hut. The fire in the middle was down to the red glow of coals. After placing a fresh log in the fire, bright yellow flames engulfed the wood and lit up the hut.
“What did Chief Ledu mean when he said, ‘Tomorrow we take what is ours’?” asked Flint.
“We are going on a raid,” answered Flint’s eldest son. “We are riding south to the village on the sea.”
“Sohass?” said Flint’s father-in-law. “Sohass is our friend; we used to trade with them.”
“Chief Ledu has promised us riches and wives,” said Flint’s eldest son. “As long as I have been alive, we have never traded with the people to the south of us.”
“That is because our village has become violent and kills anyone who ventures upriver.”
“The god Warez will not bless the weak,” said Flint’s eldest son.
“The Heavenly Father will not bless the wicked,” said Flint’s father-in-law.
This bickering back and forth was getting on Flint’s nerves.
“Lower your voices,” interrupted Flint. “Others can hear you. I don’t want to end up on the bad side of Chief Ledu.”
That night, Flint lay beside the fire, never entirely falling asleep. The sound of his sons and father-in-law snoring brought him some form of peace, but he truly missed his wife, who had died in childbirth only a year before, and his mother, who had passed away the year before that. Men surrounded him, and they all wanted to fight. It felt like the balance in the village was gone.
Flint woke up in the morning with a shiver. The fire had died out sometime in the night, and cool air seeped into their hut. There was a commotion outside. He picked up his fur coat, pulled open the leather curtain, and walked out. People were talking and moving about, and he had to traverse the maze of huts to make it to the village center, where a crowd gathered around the communal fire.
“He’s dead,” said one of the villagers.
“He must have fallen asleep outside,” said another. “It was a cold night. He must be frozen solid.”
Flint walked through the crowd and saw a frozen body lying on the ground. It was Elder Stone. A knot formed in Flint’s stomach. This was too much of a coincidence for him. How was it that the man who had challenged the chief had mysteriously died the same night? Flint looked around. No one spoke up, but he could only assume everyone was thinking the same thing.
“There’s nothing to see here,” said Chief Ledu as he barged through the crowd gathering around the frozen body of Elder Stone. “Someone, pick him up. He deserves a proper burial.”
While two men grabbed Elder Stone and carried him away from the village center, the chief stepped onto the log bench. He was already the tallest man in the village, but now he could see everyone standing in the crowd.
“Get your horses ready, men. We are riding two days south. It’s time we pay a visit to our neighbors next to the sea. If they won’t trade their goods with us, then we’ll go down there and take it for ourselves.”
The men marched through the village, stopping at the stables where the young boys and girls had the horses all tied up outside and ready to go. One by one, the men mounted their steeds and trotted out into the fields of Kurhass, waiting for their chief to give his final order. Flint himself, although hesitant to follow Chief Ledu anywhere, climbed on his horse and gathered amongst the warriors of Kurhass.
“Today, we ride south,” shouted the chief. “We are the strongest men in the world. Our horses give us speed. Our strength gives us power. May the god Warez bless our strength, power, and speed with victory.”
“Victory!” the men shouted back at their chief.
The chief broke off from the crowd and galloped across the field. With the entire male population from Kurhass riding at once, the earth trembled beneath their horses as they kicked up dust clouds behind them.
They rode all day, never stopping for a break. If a horse rested to drink water or eat some grass, it risked falling behind the main horde. The river Kur snaked around the rolling hills of the grasslands. Sometimes they followed the river, and other times they rode around small forests. On two separate occasions, they came across settlements, which they quickly surrounded before discovering they had been abandoned many years before.
“We’ve raided these homes already,” said one of the warriors next to Chief Ledu.
The raiding party camped next to the river at the end of the day. The sun had gone down, and the men needed rest. Their horses ate and drank before kneeling for the night while the men made small fires. Nets were cast into the river, and the fish caught were skewered and cooked over the flames.
Flint laid out his fur coat on the damp grass and fell asleep staring at the stars, surrounded by his brothers and fellow riders.
As the sun broke over the horizon in the morning, the group was woken by the chief, and the long ride continued. Again, they rode all day without stopping. Only this time, when they came across a settlement, they saw smoke rising from the rooftops. Chief Ledu raised his right hand, and everyone stopped on top of the hill. The men fell silent as everyone watched and waited.
“They’re only a few men,” said one of the warriors.
“I see several sheep,” said another rider. “And what looks like an ox.”
“Well, then,” said Chief Ledu, “let’s take what’s ours.”
The chief charged forward, galloping down the hill. His most trusted warriors followed behind him, and the rest of the group slowly descended the grass hill surrounding the settlement.
Flint stayed back, as did many other men, and slowly trotted down. The screams and banging of pots and pans echoed from the small settlement as the riders circled the trapped people. No one smiled or showed any emotion as the terrible screams died and the barking dogs yelped one last time. When everything fell silent, the tiny houses burst into flames, leaving black pillars of smoke that swirled in the evening wind.
“Warez has rewarded us for our strength,” said Chief Ledu, as he passed around the roasted sheep.
Flint refused to take his share. He could still see the bodies of the innocent men, women, and even children who had refused to give up and died fighting. This wasn’t a victory; it was a slaughter. He couldn’t stand for this anymore.
“Warez did not reward us today,” said Flint, interrupting the chief as he laughed amongst his men. “You have rewarded yourselves. This is nothing worth celebrating.”
Chief Ledu gripped the bloody piece of meat in his hand, squeezing it so hard that blood and pink meat oozed between his fingers. Everyone froze; their mouths hung open, their eyes going back and forth between Flint and the chief. Ledu threw his meat into the fire and stood up from his seat; the sparks from the firewood were the only sounds left.
“What did you say, old man?” said Chief Ledu. “Are you questioning me? Are you questioning our god?”
Flint didn’t back down; he stood his ground and puffed up his chest. But he looked to his left and right and was surprised to see many men walk up and stand behind him. Others walked around the fire and stood beside Ledu.
“Consider this your only warning, old man,” said Ledu as he stepped forward, pointing his copper knife at Flint. “Don’t you ever step out of line again, or it could be your body lying in the grass.”
Chief Ledu pointed at the fallen settlers who still lay in their own blood a few paces away from the campfires.
“Just like Elder Stone?” asked Flint.
Some murmurs echoed from the crowds on both sides.
“You watch yourself, Flint,” said Chief Ledu. “You’re treading on very loose ground.”
Ledu looked at the large group of men standing behind Flint and lowered his knife. But not Flint; he could not back down, not now, not after challenging the chief. Any sign of weakness could mean his imminent death.
“Tonight, we sleep,” said Chief Ledu, “for tomorrow, we take what is ours.”
While the chief sat back down and ate a fresh slab of meat, the rest of the riders silently went about their business, eating their spoils and making their beds. It took a while for Flint to stand down and return to his horse. He never took his eyes off Chief Ledu or the lackeys who sat next to him. And just as Flint stared at Ledu, the chief never took his eyes off Flint.
“Why did you do it, Father?” asked Flint’s eldest son. “Why did you challenge the chief?”
“He is not our chief,” said Flint. “He is leading Kurhass down a violent and wicked path that the Father in heaven will not tolerate. We will be punished for our wicked acts.”
“The chief says Warez will bless us,” said his son. “We do not need the blessing of the Sky Father.”
“If we lose our path and fall from the grace of our Father in heaven, then we are no better than the fox and the wolf. Perhaps that is where Ledu plans to lead us: back to the wild.”
Flint’s son left his father and camped that night around the warriors loyal to Chief Ledu. It was disappointing to Flint, but he knew his son would be safer sleeping over there.
As he lay down to sleep, Flint took one last look at Chief Ledu. The brute was still sitting next to the fire, sipping his ale and chowing down on a thick cut of roasted meat. His eyes were locked on Flint. Flint wasn’t going to survive the night—not if he didn’t take measures to protect himself.
While everyone drifted off to sleep and the valley filled with the snores of a hundred men, Flint rolled out from under his fur blanket and stuffed it with rocks, bushes, and anything he could get his hands on. He didn’t stop until it looked like a body was lying underneath the blanket. Flint then crawled away under cover of darkness.
As he lay in the damp grass, starring over the tiny hill, the moon rose over the horizon, casting a bright white light down on the camp. He was far enough away that no one would find him until day broke. Feeling safe for the time being, Flint drifted off to sleep. His body was cold and damp, but he knew he needed his rest.
Something startled him from his sleep. A commotion in the camp woke Flint from his slumber, and he rolled from his back onto his stomach and stared through the grass, looking down on the camp where the riders slept and the horses knelt in the grass. But figures moved in the moonlight. Several men stood over the fur blanket where Flint was meant to be sleeping.
“He’s not here.” Their whispers carried through the cool night air.
“Go back to bed,” said another man. “We’ll find him in the morning.”
For the next couple of hours, Flint lay on his back, unsure if he should allow himself to fall asleep. But it didn’t matter; his body tired, and he drifted off. He awoke to the horses neighing as they stood and ate the wet grass in the predawn light. Flint stood up and looked down at the camp. The smoke was still sizzling from the burned ruins they’d sacked the day before, and several men from the camp were up roaming about. The chief and his lackeys were amongst the first to wake, and they pointed at Flint as he descended the hill and rejoined his men.
The ones who still slept were kicked by their fellow riders until they got out of their beddings and folded up their leather blankets and furs. Several men rekindled the fires while others handed out dried fish and tallow rations.
There was a long pause as Flint and the chief locked gazes. A smile broke on Flint’s face. He’d outsmarted the chief’s men. They might have been able to sneak up and kill Elder Stone in his sleep, but they would not catch Flint so easily.
“On the hill,” shouted one of the men.
Everyone turned their attention to the top of the grassy hill. The sky was blue and yellow, but the sun had yet to rise above the edge of the Earth. Standing on the top of the hill were two young horse riders. Their clothes were made of blue cloth, their necks were wrapped in red fur, and their faces were covered in shadow. The entire camp looked up at them as the red fire of the sun broke over the horizon, right between the two strange riders. It blinded the men, forcing most to look away.
“Who is that?” asked one of the men.
“It’s the divine twins,” said another man. “From Elder Stone’s stories.”
Whispers and murmurs of twins, gods, and divine spread amongst the crowd.
“Enough,” shouted Chief Ledu. “They’re not gods. Those are men from Sohass. We have to catch them before they alert the village.”
Just like that, the divine twins rode over the hill and disappeared.
“Follow them!” shouted Ledu. “Kill them both.”
The men scrambled to their horses, many leaving their belongings behind, while others took the time to strap their furs and gourds to the backs of their steeds before joining the hunt. Flint did not get caught up in the crowd. He followed behind the main horde, keeping his eyes on the chief and his lackeys.
“Don’t worry, brother Flint,” said another rider. “We will ride together.”
“We won’t let Ledu or his men get anywhere near you,” said another.
“Thank you, my brothers,” said Flint.
A dozen men rode around Flint, protecting him on all sides. Meanwhile, the horde of riders chased the young twins across the plains. For the longest time, no one saw them, and doubt spread amongst the riders.
“Maybe they went the other way,” shouted one.
“They outran us,” said others.
“The divine twins are leading us astray,” said another.
They rode up a long grassy hill, and as every man, starting with Chief Ledu, made it to the top, they came to a sudden halt. Flint and his escort trailed behind, but soon they were greeted by an entirely new sight: a body of water that stretched on forever, in all directions. At the end of the water, clouds touched the sea and joined the waters with the sky. Everyone stood in awe at the magnificent sight.
“There they are,” shouted one of the men.
They tore their gazes away from the great sea and looked down at the two riders galloping away. And there it was: Sohass, the village next to the sea. Hundreds of huts lined the edge of the water. There were more huts than there were men, women, horses, and sheep of Kurhass. They all had little fires casting gray-and-black smoke into the morning air. Hundreds upon hundreds of tiny white sheep roamed the plains around the village.
“They’re going to alert the whole village to our presence,” said Chief Ledu. “We have to attack now before their men meet us in battle.”
A terrible knot formed in Flint’s gut. He knew what was about to happen. As a child, he’d seen his entire village burn to the ground. He’d been captured and enslaved by Kurhass in a raid just like this. The sound of the horses grunting next to him was louder than the thunder in the middle of a storm. His head hurt, and his eyes watered.
“Stop!” he shouted.
Flint rode his horse to the front of the army and looked at all of the men gathered around Chief Ledu.
“You dare challenge me!” shouted Ledu. “I have already warned you once.”
“What will you have us do? Ride down there and slaughter women and children? Murder our neighbors and burn their houses to the ground?”
“Warez blesses those who are strong,” said the chief. “But he does not tolerate weakness.”
“I do not follow the god Warez,” said Flint. “I follow the gods of Kurhass… the heavenly Father, and our Earth Mother. The ones who have watched over us and protected us for generations.”
The men grew restless. Some of them pointed their spears at Flint, while others broke off from the main group and circled behind him with their own spears raised. As the two factions sized each other up, it became evident that while more men supported Flint, the strongest and youngest gathered around Ledu.
“I challenge you, Ledu,” said Flint. “You are a terrible and wicked chief who has led our village astray. You are the fox who leads our sheep to the slaughter.”
“You want to fight me?” said Ledu. “Fine. Let’s fight. Just you. Just me.”
Ledu climbed off his horse, gripping a copper ax in his right hand. Ledu was strong and tall. His shoulders were broad, and his body was covered with dark hair and scars. The hair on his head was long and dark and flowed in the early morning wind, and his bright-red beard hung over his chest.
“I’ll fight you, Ledu,” said Flint as he slid off his horse. He was neither as tall nor as strong as Ledu. But Flint knew he had the gods on his side. He gripped a copper knife in each hand. While the two men squared off, the rest circled around.
Then a horn blew from the village below, and the men looked down the hill as the local village gathered its strongest men for battle. The element of surprise was gone, and soon the men from Sohass would ride up to challenge them. But for now, Flint worried only about Ledu.
“This will not take long,” shouted the chief.
He charged, sprinting and screaming, as he raised his ax. But Flint was patient and waited until the last moment before Ledu swung. He ducked, swung his hands, and spun out of the way, slicing the chief in the side. The two men turned back, facing each other.
Ledu dripped blood from his side but was unfazed by the wound. He screamed as he swung again and again, barreling down on Flint. But Flint continued to evade him. He dodged the ax but not the fist that struck him in the side. The strength of Ledu’s punch knocked the wind out of him, and then the ax came swinging down again.
The blade missed him, but a kick knocked him onto his back, and he dropped one of his knives on the grass.
The crowd cheered in preparation for the final death blow.
But Flint rolled to the side, and the ax buried itself into the soggy earth. Ledu left the ax in the ground and pounced on Flint, punching him hard in the face and cracking the bone in his cheek.
But with a quick thrust, Flint buried his copper blade in Ledu’s side.
Ledu backed off, screaming as he looked down at the knife’s handle. Flint got back on his feet, wiped the water from his eyes, and shook his head. The two men faced each other again, but Flint kept his distance, never initiating the attack. Ledu grabbed the handle of his ax and pulled the blade from the ground.
“You will rot on the earth tonight,” said Ledu, throwing the ax through the air.
The ax spun as it soared, but Flint moved to the side. A man behind him screamed and fell to his knees, the battle-ax lodged deep in his ribs.
“Aja!” cried another man.
The wounded man spat up blood and foam before dying on his knees.
“Is this the man you want to follow?” shouted Flint. “He’ll get every one of you killed. And for what? To slaughter women and children?”
The crowd stared at Ledu, who stood panting, dripping blood from the knife buried in his side. Then the sound of advancing warriors drew their attention to the army marching up the grass hill. Flint never took his eyes off Ledu, but the sound of the approaching men was too loud to ignore. If this didn’t end soon, the entire army of Kurhass would be overrun. The distraction became too much, and Flint glanced to his side to witness the enemy army marching up the hill.
Ledu attacked. Screaming and running, he struck Flint with all his weight and pinned him to the ground. Ledu shouted and screamed as he punched and pounded Flint again and again. Flint held his hands over his face as he took the heavy punches and blows. There was no freeing himself. Every punch hit hard. His wrists cracked over his face, and his eyes welled with water.
Ledu raised both fists high above his head, but before he could swing down, his eyes opened wide and he screamed in pain. The copper blade sticking out of Ledu’s chest had sunk further into him. Now, when he struck Flint’s head with both fists, he had almost no strength. Flint kicked and swung and headbutted until Ledu fell off him, curled up, and then straightened out on the grass. His scream continued until nothing more than foamy blood seeped from his mouth.
Flint found his second knife on the grass, rolled over, and sank the blade deep into Ledu’s ribs. The blade hit his lungs, and frothy red bubbles oozed out of his chest.
Flint stumbled to his feet and pointed at Ledu.
“Is this your chief?” shouted Flint. “Look at him. See what blessings he has been given from his god.”
The men fell silent as their chief rolled back and forth in his death throes.
“Warez will not protect you. He craves only blood.”
The men surrounding Ledu backed off and let the warrior slowly die on the ground.
The war cry from down the hill brought their attention to the army marching toward them.
“What do we do?” asked one of the warriors.
“Form up,” shouted Flint.
The men looked at each other and then back at Ledu on the ground. Most remained on their horses, but some were on foot.
“Listen to your chief,” shouted one of the warriors. “On your steeds. Form a line.”
Flint stumbled back and looked at Ledu. The two men locked eyes, and for the first time, Ledu’s gaze was one of fear. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open. His strong arms couldn’t hold his wounds, and his blood poured freely.
As the men mounted their horses and formed a long line on the edge of the grassy hill, the advancing army from Sohass became clear as day. There were hundreds of them, carrying daggers, slings, and bows and arrows. As the two armies stared at each other, the Sohass men stalled.
“We are not here to fight!” shouted Flint.
A man in the center of the advancing army held up his right hand.
Flint stumbled to the front of his army and looked down the hill at the men. The leader of Sohass walked forward and stood several paces in front of his army, but no one said a word. Both armies faced each other with weapons in hand.
“Bring Ledu to me,” commanded Flint.
Several men dismounted their horses and dragged the dying Ledu to the front of the line. He was cast onto the grass and tumbled several paces before stopping faceup on the ground. He gasped for air, but he had no breath to scream or move.
“I bring you a gift,” shouted Flint.
The leader of the Sohass army looked in puzzlement at the man who lay dying before them.
“This is the man who has terrorized your settlers.”
“I want to speak with your chief,” called the leader of the Sohass army.
Flint looked back at the warriors of Kurhass, and all of them nodded. As Flint looked back at the Sohass army, he smiled.
“I am the chief.”
Flint turned to the warrior closest to him and held out his hand. The battle-ax was handed over, and Flint walked up to Ledu’s dying body. He looked his rival in the eyes one last time before swinging his ax. It took several chops, but the head finally broke free. Gripping the long blond hair, Flint sent the head tumbling down the hill, over the grass and rocks, to the feet of the Sohass chief.
The Sohass chief looked down at the severed head and then up at Flint. After a long standoff, the two men slowly walked into the open area between the two armies.
“Where is your village?” asked the Sohass chieftain.
“We come from Kurhass.”
“Kurhass? You have attacked our settlers and murdered our people.”
“That was Ledu,” said Flint. “He was not our true chief. His father captured our village by violence and killed our families. I was taken prisoner from Brynhass. His head is our gift to you.”
“Our ancestors used to trade with yours,” said the Sohass chieftain. “What is going to stop you from attacking us again?”
“I am the chief of Kurhass now.” Flint’s eyes were swollen and his body ached, but he stood tall and strong. “I have liberated my people from Ledu. And as a token of my sincerity, I will gift you anything you ask.”
“Your horses. If you do come in peace, offer us your horses.”
Flint looked back at his army. The men waited for his command.
“Our horses you can have,” said Flint. “But first, I must get our men home. We can return with horses after the next moon. And I must ask for something in return.”
“What do you want?”
“Peace,” said Flint. “I want peace between Sohass and Kurhass. Like the days of old.”
The Sohass chief looked back at his men and then at Flint. The two men stared at each other for a few moments before one of them smiled. Then both smiled.
“Sohass wants peace too, but there must be trade for there to be peace.”
“Kurhass has lots to trade,” said Flint. “Horses, grain, ale, ore, baskets, pottery, and furs. Let our men return home, and in the coming moon, we will return with everything we can afford to spare.”
“Our village will prepare for your return; we have fish, salt, and precious metals.”
“It will be good for our villages to trade with each other again,” said Flint. “But there is something else I must request.”
“What does Kurhass need from us?” asked the chief of Sohass. “Or is this a request for yourself?”
“My son. He is a man and has no woman. I’d like to find him a wife from your village.”
“Bring him with you on your return, and we will find him a suitable bride.”
“Thank you. May the gods bless you,” said Flint.
The two chiefs returned to their armies, and while the men of Sohass kept their formation, the men of Kurhass mounted their steeds, rode slowly up the hill, and returned to the grasslands. It was a long ride home, but no one galloped. The men remained at a steady trot as they followed the river north.
“Long live Chief Flint,” shouted one of the men in the group.
Flint looked back, but his swollen eye made everything blurry, and he couldn’t see who shouted.
“Long live the chief of Kurhass,” shouted another man.
Soon the entire crowd of men was cheering, but Flint kept his calm demeanor and rode at the front. All he wanted to do was go home and rest.
Flint’s eldest son joined his father at the front of the line.
“My son, I want to apologize for what happened earlier. I know you were a strong supporter of Ledu. I hope my actions will not affect our relationship.”
“Never worry about that, Father. I see now that Ledu led Kurhass in all the wrong directions. You did the right thing by challenging him, and I have never been prouder to be your son.”
THE END