“That was incredibly stupid, Zen.” Enapay pulled his goggles back over his eyes and wiped his mock frown away with his hand. “But amazing.”
While Enapay steered the airship above the stone wall protecting the village, Zen went back to his knapsack to reload his guns. His body was full of tension and exhilaration. Whether he was fighting on Nihon soil or helping to protect a village another world away, it was all the same.
Enapay threw Zen a rifle. “This time, stay on board. Their bullets can't puncture the gas bags above our heads. Don't worry, the ballonets are encased in strong alloy metal for protection. Otherwise, one lead shot could bring us down.”
Enapay steered the Dragonfly swiftly to the east entrance. The enormous iron gate seemed at least four times the height and width of the wall's west entrance. Two guard towers atop stone bastions blazed with gunfire downwards towards a large band of raiders fifty yards from the closed gate. Zen noticed the Nabeho rifle barrels protruding through the iron lattice of the gate, unleashing a curtain of bullets dropping several raiders at once. The invading bandits were out in the open, their vehicles the only cover from the Nabeho's bullets. They had nowhere to go, but showed no signs of actual surrender.
Zen counted ten cars in a semi-circle formation, each protecting the huddled, dark figures behind them. It became clear what the raiders' plan had been. They had mounted a large attack on the east entrance to lure the Nabeho defenses there. Once engaged, the pirates dispatched another assault force to the west to overtake the under-manned gate. The plan had almost worked, but the raiders didn't plan on a flying machine interrupting their invasion.
The Dragonfly swept behind the raiders' position without being spotted. Zen took hold of Enapay's rifle and pressed the butt of its stock up against his right shoulder. He leaned forward, using the railing for support. Despite the growing darkness, there was enough light for Zen to spot the raiders' hunched forms up against their cars. He lined up his right eye with the rifle's brass scope and found his target.
Zen pulled the trigger, and he knew his bullet struck a cloaked raider square in the back. The man's body jerked before falling face-down onto dirt. His comrades spun around and scampered on their hands and knees.
He bolted the rifle, ejecting the spent shell, and shot again. His bullet took out another pirate. The others scurried and returned fire while trying to get underneath their vehicles for cover. A deafening explosion, and the blooming fireball that followed, stopped the barrage of gunfire from both sides. It looked as if one of the raiders hurled a grenade at the Nabeho wall, but it fell short by about ten feet.
“They have dynamite.” Enapay pointed at the raiders before taking the airship several feet closer to their position. “They're going to try again.”
Zen put his eye back to the scope, spotting one of the raiders underneath his roadster by catching the light of the ignition of another stick of explosives. The sparkling fuse coming from the bomb was unmistakable, and he bolted the rifle while he watched the pirate leave the safety of his cover. A bead of sweat ran from Zen's scalp down his forehead and tickled the side of his nose, but he kept his weapon steady.
The man stood up and his arm cocked when Zen punched a bullet through his chest. Before collapsing, the bandit lost his grip on the explosive and dropped the lit dynamite onto the ground. The raiders rushed to get away from their fallen comrade. A brilliant flash burst from underneath one of the vehicles.
The rear end of the roadster lifted up into the air as the ear-piercing explosion lashed out with dazzling ferocity. A rush of intense heat buffeted Zen's face, and he closed his eyes to avoid being blinded from the blast. A large mushroom of fire floated upwards, igniting the once dark desert sky. Even Zen was surprised by the violence of the eruption.
Two surviving raiders threw down their weapons and thrust their hands up in surrender. Zen expelled the empty cartridge and kept his rifle trained on them. With a loud clanging of metal, the gate rose until it disappeared up into the wall. A small squad of armed Nabeho warriors subdued the two raiders and dragged them inside the fortress.
Enapay took the Dragonfly over the towering walls into the village. The eastern side of the settlement was dotted with more small circular homes, a few stone buildings scattered up throughout. Zen noticed every structure faced eastwards.
The airship came to a clearing near the corner of the compound. The craft's propellers slid into a horizontal position, and Zen perceived a hissing sound coming from the two long cylinders above his head as the ship lost altitude. The airship landed with a jostle and was greeted by jubilant cheers and war cries. Enapay pulled his goggles down and let them hang around his neck. He seemed apprehensive. His feet shifted back and forth underneath him.
They exited the Dragonfly and found themselves surrounded by the tribesmen. They reached out to Enapay and took turns grasping his forearm in some sort of tribal greeting. Zen sensed their curiosity when their eyes turned to him, but he also felt their gratitude.
An older Nabeho stepped from the crowd, his manner majestic and deliberate. He wore the same brownish jacket and pants as the others did, but his hair was gray and thinning. The high cheekbones and sharp angles of his face resembled a statue chiseled from marble, and when he spoke, the crowd obediently fell silent.
The elder greeted Enapay with their tribal arm shake and what seemed to be a few kind words of thanks in their Origin tongue. “We are grateful to you.” The smiling leader turned to Zen. “And your friend.”
“You are most welcome, Chief.” Enapay stepped aside. “This is Zenjiro, a traveler from Nihon.” He turned to Zen and whispered, “He is Chief Ohitekah.”
Ohitekah approached Zen with his arm outstretched. The chief took a firm hold of Zen's forearm. “Zenjiro of Nihon, the people of the Nabeho thank you for your bravery.”
Another warrior made his way through the crowd, his shaking finger pointed at Zen. “I watched him soar from Enapay's cloud-hugger, destroying the raiders in a flurry of bullets. He moves like a mongoose.”
Zen recognized the man from the fresh bullet wound on his left arm. He had been the first to greet them after securing the western gate. The brave continued to re-tell the story to his people in Nabehon, which Zen couldn't even begin to decipher. Any sign of tension the tribesman exhibited earlier with Enapay disappeared, and he even shook the pilot's arm. The crowd's clamoring grew louder when the man finished his story. Chief Ohitekah studied Zen for a moment before an amused smile danced on his wrinkled face.
“It is easy to see how one would underestimate you,” Ohitekah said. “Zenjiro, you've traveled a long way. You must be tired and hungry. You are our guest tonight and for as many nights as you wish.”
Enapay's grin couldn't have stretched any bigger. “You should see the boy with a stick. I have a great story to tell.”
Ohitekah said with a tinge of regret, “It has been a long time, Enapay. Welcome back.”
The chief made a proclamation to the crowd is his native tongue. For Zen's sake, he repeated his words in Standard. “We will go to the Spirit Hall where I will hear your stories.” Ohitekah turned to the warriors holding the two prisoners. The raiders wore long black dusters, their rough faces partially covered by grime and soot. “Take them to the pit. We will question them in the morning.”
Zen noticed the men, women, and children in the crowd staring at him. They appeared fascinated, at the very least curious. All of the children wore their dark hair long as the adults did, and many of the women were armed with rifles. Zen felt a little embarrassed by their scrutiny, but he was eager to learn more about them too.
“Tonight, Zenjiro, you are one of us,” Chief Ohitekah said, but addressing the entire congregation. “Tonight and forever.”
Enapay leaned over and whispered, “This is my tribe's greatest honor. I've never seen the chief adopt a foreigner, and that practically makes us brothers.”
Zen's face warmed with pride. “It is my honor.”
THE SPIRIT H
ALL, BUILT FROM red stone in the center of the village, towered over the surrounding stocky homes. Enapay explained that the circular structure was their place of worship where many tribal ceremonies took place, and that all Nabeho buildings faced due east to greet the arrival of the sun with each new day.
When they entered through iron doors, Zen noticed the low ceiling and a faint but distinct smell of incense permeated the common area. They opened a set of double doors leading to a well-lit chamber. The Spirit Hall was circular like the building itself, and cavernous. Zen estimated it was nearly the size of the Grand Chamber at the royal palace back home.
Opposite the entrance stood a large altar made of the same red stone, the facade decorated with various banners. In the center of the chamber, a monstrous circular pit containing a blazing bonfire illuminated the entire area. Long tables and chairs filled the rest of the hall.
A throng of Nabeho followed Zen's party through the village, but the guards didn't allow most of them in. Chief Ohitekah led the selected few to the largest table in the chamber directly in front of the fire pit. Zen noticed that other than himself and Enapay, they all had gray hair. Ohitekah sat down at the head of the table and signaled the rest of them to take their assigned seats. Zen sat adjacent to the chief with Enapay taking a seat across from Zen.
“These raiders have attacked us several times this season. We've managed to easily defend ourselves up until tonight.” Ohitekah signaled to someone near the doors. “Their attempts have become bolder as of late, and their numbers have increased with each attempt.”
The doors opened, and several men and women carrying large platters of food entered the Spirit Hall. They placed a heavy bowl of some kind of stew in front of Zen, and his stomach churned with hungry anticipation. Without a word, they left the food on the table and exited. Ohitekah was the first to eat while the other Elders refrained before taking their first bites.
“Who are these raiders?” Zen gulped down his first spoonful. Its warmth ran down his throat and filled his empty belly.
“We at first believed they were a band of nomads. There has been a semblance of organization and planning with their attacks recently,” Ohitekah said. “I believe that they are part of a new tribe consisting of outsiders.”
Zen emptied his bowl, and someone from behind immediately replaced it with a full one. “This is a strange land to me, many things are difficult to understand. However, some things are the same everywhere. There will always be those who crave what you have and will kill you for it.”
Chief Ohitekah nodded. “Very true. I have grossly underestimated the raiders, but I will remedy that soon. Tomorrow morning, we will question our prisoners and locate their dwelling. We will end their threats immediately. Otherwise, we will become prisoners in our own village, afraid to leave the safety of our walls.”
Enapay remained quiet for a while, and Zen had forgotten about him until he spoke. “Luckily we came when we did. The raiders were about to breach the western gate when we arrived.”
Ohitekah's wrinkled face flashed annoyance. “Enapay, you know the Nabeho do not believe in luck.” The chief turned to Zen. “We believe all things have a purpose, a reason.”
Zen said, “My people practice the same belief. It is taught to all the children of Nihon.” In his periphery, he noticed Enapay squirm. “Fate has brought me here.”
The group of ten Elders nodded and muttered in agreement as they ate.
“You see, I told you they would love you,” Enapay remarked.
Ohitekah tapped Zen on the back. “Which brings us to our question: how did you and Enapay meet? Why have you come all the way here to the Wild Land from Nihon?”
The Elders waited for their guest to tell them his story. While Zen spoke about the union of all the major clans of Nihon, the Sky Blade, and the Iberian Empire, they continued their meal and listened with sincere ears and open minds.
Zen might have been a world away from Nihon, but he felt at home.
A FAMILY IN MOURNING CARRIED the body of a fallen warrior into their wooden home. Enapay shut his eyes and shook his head when the guards closed the door to the Spirit Hall behind them. He motioned to Zen to continue their stroll through the village square. The sky was littered with shimmering stars, and a cooling wind swept within the Nabeho walls.
“Seven. We lost seven braves tonight,” Enapay said in a soft voice.
“To die in battle is the greatest honor for my people,” Zen said. “There is no death. Just transition to the next world.”
“The Nabeho have a similar belief.” Enapay shrugged his shoulders. “Me personally, I enjoy my life in this world too much to think about the next one.”
Zen asked, “Why do you go against your own people's beliefs? You are surrounded by all of this. Yet you do not believe as they do.”
“I've ventured outside of this village quite a bit in the last ten years,” replied Enapay. “I decided to see things from different points of view.”
It made no sense to Zen why anyone would rebel against such enlightenment as that of the Nabeho. “I still do not understand.” He was going to argue with Enapay more, but he yawned instead.
“You look exhausted.” Enapay took him to one of the octagonal dwellings. “This is my uncle's. He and his family now live on the other side of the village. It's not much, and it's drafty compared to the newer hogans built with stone. As for me, I'm accustomed to sleeping on my ship.”
Zen recalled that the Dragonfly housed a small cabin. It was large enough to contain a cot and a nightstand maybe. It made no sense as to why Enapay insisted on sleeping in his vessel.
“Don't worry. I will pay you in the morning,” Enapay said.
Zen had forgotten about the wager back in Porticus City. Much had happened since this afternoon, and he wondered if he could sleep without the gentle rolling of the ocean.
“You should listen to your people more often. They are wise,” Zen said before yawning again.
Before Zen could open the door, Enapay placed his hand on it. “When I was younger, we were at war with the Ndee tribe. My father was a great warrior, and he was killed in battle. When my mother died, my sister raised me. Later, she too was killed in battle. For what? Honor? When I was old enough, I left the village to find my own answers.”
“Did you find them?” Zen asked. He was pushing Enapay, but in many ways the man was asking for it.
“I discovered a lot about myself, that I had a talent for building things,” Enapay said. “A master inventor took me in as his apprentice, and for a few years, I thought I couldn't be happier. Then one day, it was all taken from me. It seems the only one I can rely on in this world is me.”
“That is a lonely way to live,” Zen said.
Enapay's face softened. “It is. I still love my people, but I reject their beliefs and teachings.” He slid his hand away from the door.
Zen pulled it open, but stopped short of crossing the threshold. “Why did you return? Why did you make your way back to the Nabeho?”
Enapay hesitated, blankly looking Zen in the eyes. “Because I lost a wager to a boy warrior, and my uncle owed me money.”
A FORTIFIED CITADEL OF RED stone overlooked the river and dominated the southwestern corner of the Nabeho fortress. Chief Ohitekah had sent a messenger requesting Zen and Enapay to join him on the training grounds in the morning. The chief likely wanted to share strategies with Zen, who was happy to oblige.
Zen was relieved to talk of war tactics after the somber start to the day. At sunrise, he and Enapay had attended a ceremony for the seven braves killed in the previous night's raid. Chief Ohitekah allowed Zen to witness their sacred rite. Quite a distance away from the western gate of their fortress, they paraded over the river's narrow bridge and came to a clearing where they placed their dead on high platforms and sang their tribal songs. The lyrics were in their Origin language, but their grief needed no translation.
Later, Enapay's demeanor remained dark. No smiling or jokes; he was s
ilent as the two ate eggs and bread under a small pavilion outside.
When they reached the citadel, Zen noticed the warriors weren't training. Instead, they stood clustered in silence. He saw abrupt movement on the other side of the crowd, and Zen and Enapay stepped through the assembly to make their way to the front.
A raider, stripped to only his dusty pants, hung upside down by his ankles. Thick rope held him there, attached to a wooden scaffold. The pirate's sunburned and scar-covered skin was fully exposed to all the Nabeho spectators. His bald head gleamed under the morning light. His arms dangled straight down, his fingertips barely touching the dirt.
A Nabeho warrior stood behind the prisoner, readying a type of wooden club. Enapay identified the warrior as Itan, the tribe's military leader.
“I know him. He's our war chief. He used to bully me when we were children,” Enapay whispered. “Itan will beat the truth out of this man.”
Itan was tall and dark like his fellow tribesmen. His sharp, handsome features so closely resembled the chief's, he could easily be their leader's son. Itan stood motionless; the wind swirled in the courtyard and threw a cloud of dust up into the air.
“What is the location of your camp?” Itan asked in a deep, commanding voice.
The prisoner gasped. His back and torso were already bleeding. He gritted his teeth and refused to answer. Zen held his breath. He knew what was to follow the raider's silence.
Itan drew back the club, and Zen saw the metal tacks on the flat edge of the weapon, like jagged dragon teeth. When the brave smashed it against the prisoner's back, the man unleashed an agonizing scream. Itan circled around the raider. He bent low and let the prisoner see his own blood dripping from the weapon.
“What is the location of your camp?” Itan tapped the prisoner's groin, letting one of the metal spikes catch on the fabric of his pants. “You will answer me.”
The raider's body shook, and Zen thought he heard the man sob.
“Our camp is twenty miles east,” the prisoner said between gasps. “In a town we've named Cheng City.”