King of Babylon- Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Hail the Conquering Heroes

The sky was green that night, a dark emerald that twinkled with the spirits of far off flames and invigorated the entire village. Oburos breathed in the cool air that rolled in on the evening winds, letting his inner flame bake it before releasing it again in a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” the guard sitting next to him asked. Oburos didn’t even know the guy’s name, but the djinn was young, like him. He would have thought his companion would have been more eager to chat with a peer, but these had been the first words the djinn had spoken since their shift had begun hours ago.

“Just glad to know that it’s a good night,” Oburos answered, absentmindedly fiddling with his spear. “The celebrations sound good.”

The djinn scoffed, baring his sharpened teeth. “Celebrations we’re missing. I don’t know how you can enjoy not getting to be a part of that. How often does Ilik permit us to have any fun? And when he finally declares a party, we get stuck on guard duty.”

Oburos shrugged. “Hey, this isn’t so bad. Anticipation stokes the inner flame. Our shift will be over soon, and the party will still be on. Relax.”

His companion grumbled something and said no more, rising to his feet. Oburos stood to join him, staring out over the cliff side at the rolling plains below. Most of this land was plains, it seemed. Oburos might have gotten sick of it if not for the fact that the village was on a high plateau that kept them far above that monotony.

The cells they guarded were put here in the cliff face so prisoners would be forced to look out at the plains every day and lament their loss of freedom. For most of Oburos’s life though, the prisons had been empty. There were rarely any djinni out in the plains to invoke the village’s wrath, and none who knew the only way to climb the plateau so as to assault them anyway. The hundred foot high natural rock tower went straight down on all sides, providing no footholds. What was more, it was made of magastone, the only rock that no djinn could pierce with their claw. A natural fortress, “God’s gift to the Daskanni”, Ilik always said.

No djinn could ever attack, and within the village only the occasional fool stepped out of line and needed to be locked away for a few weeks until he cleared his head. Usually. Up until a year ago, Oburos had figured becoming a guard was the easiest job he could ever give himself. He would almost never be needed for anything, for how often was there anything to guard?

Then the first slaves were brought in, and Oburos found his carefree career choice was not exactly a dream job.

The ones Oburos and the other were guarding now were all asleep. Seven of them, cramped together in that cell meant to hold two at the most. Oburos would have pitied them, except, well, he couldn’t really understand them. They spoke a radically different language from the Daskanni, one that no one had any idea how to translate. So far, physical communication had been all that worked. Still, by the time the sun went down and the slaves returned to their cells to rest, none of them were in much of a mood to play charades with the guards.

“The party is a show of arrogance anyway,” the djinn spoke up.

Oburos glanced at him, but the frown cut deep into his face made looking difficult.

“What do you mean?”

“Ilik hasn’t even succeeded yet. The attack party has yet to return, but he insists on pretending we’ve already won by wasting everyone’s time and energy with these games.”

“Now you’re just being bitter. Besides, emerald nights are good omens.”

“Believe what you want. I still say he should show restraint.”

Oburos was no tremendous fan of their leaders occasional displays of vanity either, but he was getting very tired of his companion’s mood. How could one keep their inner flame cool when the one nearby insisted on burning everything around it? He opened his mouth to tell the djinn to shut up.

The flash of crimson light in the dark waves of grass below stopped him.

“They’re back,” he said.

“About time.”

Oburos rolled his eyes. “I’ll go tell Ilik.” Anything to get away from the smoldering jerk.

Using his spear for balance, Oburos navigated the thin path cut into the cliff that led up to the surface of the plateau. Once or twice he stopped to glance down at the plains and see the returning party. Twenty shining red lights signified the returning warriors. Three less than had set out. And harder to see were the shapes of the slaves they brought back with them. Smaller, and containing no inner flames, the dark creatures were visible only by their captor’s lights. But even then Oburos saw enough to make his heart sink.

There had to be over a hundred of them. That was about as many Daskanni as there were at all! There would be no way to manage that many new slaves, no place to put them. Not unless Ilik had some brilliant idea.

Shaking his head, Oburos continued his trek. The narrow path was easy for him, having practiced it daily for the last year. When he finally reached the end he needed only climb a small set of natural steps jutting out of the rock to reach the plateau.

The light that washed over him upon reaching the top was spectacular. Past the tents and rudimentary huts that made up the village, twisting and rolling above the center of the village was a tremendous bonfire of dancing green flames. Twisting, singing and shouting around the great fire were Oburos’s fellow Daskanni, their bare bodies blazing rubies that leaped and spun around the emerald. They beat their fists against the ground and stamped their feet to form music that carried their words through the flames of every djinn in the village. This sort of celebration, although rare, pretty much told everyone for miles around where they were. More proof of their belief in the invincibility of their fortress.

Unable to remove the smile from his face, Oburos shook his head and made his way past the homes until he could see more of the event. Now he could see the many Daskanni sitting in a tremendous circle around the fire, eating and drinking and gazing at the dancers. Off to the side, some of the children were having their own little dance, supervised by smiling mothers. The last time they had this sort of celebration, Oburos had been young enough to dance with them.

Circling around the fire from a comfortable distance, Oburos finally spotted Ilik. The village leader sat upon a blanket with his wife and young daughter, closer to the fire and the dancers than any of the others. He watched the dancers with a small grin on his lips, clicking his nails together in time to the music.

Ilik was truly a sight to behold. As village chief he was the only male allowed to wear his hair without braids or dreads, and he flaunted this privilege by letting it grow so long and straight that it was like a golden cape. It pooled around him as he sat, carefully encircling his body and laid so as drape over him like a garment.

Oburos came up behind him, fell to his knees, and whispered just loud enough to be heard.

“Ilik, they’ve returned.”

The massive djinn turned around, his smile widening.

“Thank you Oburos. Did they succeed?”

“They have nearly a hundred more humans with them.”

His teeth showed. The only teeth in the village allowed to forgo the ritual sharpening.

“You may end your shift now. Join the party. Tonight you could be one of the lucky ones.”

The prospect filled Oburos for a moment, and he shivered at the thought. The chances were nearly impossible, but it would be so wonderful if it could be true.

“Thank you Ilik.”

Ilik dismissed him with a wave of his claws, and Oburos backed away. He began to search for a place to take a seat, but remembered the moody fellow who was still stuck guarding the humans. Did Ilik mean both of their shifts were up, or just Oburos’s?

Oburos looked back at Ilik, but he was back to being entranced by the dance. The last thing Oburos wanted to do was interrupt him a second time with such a trivial question. He knew the only reason he had been received so warmly for one interruption was because of his good news.

The other guy was a downer, but Oburos would probably have to run shifts with him more, especially with the new slaves coming in. The last thing he wanted to do was piss the guy off more.

Sighing, Oburos made his way back to the edge of the plateau and climbed back down to the cells. He found the other guard farther down from where they had been, staring into the last cell, his frown worse than ever.

“What’s wrong?” Oburos asked.

The djinn’s scowl deepened when he saw Oburos.

“This one. She’s being difficult.”

Oburos walked over and looked into the cell. There were only five in this one, and four of them were on the ground asleep, or at least trying to look like they were asleep. The fifth one stood in the middle of the cell. She was female, and relatively young, although the curves of her hips and breasts meant she was at least old enough to bear children. These humans aged differently from djinni, so Oburos had problems figuring out how old they were.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She won’t stop speaking in that damn human tongue of hers. Listen.”

The girl stared at the both of them, her lips curved into a dark frown. She kept muttering the same phrase over and over.

“What do you think ‘fukyuu’ means?” Oburos chuckled.

“I don’t care, she won’t shut up.”

The djinn growled and banged his fist against the bars, bending them in just a bit.

“Watch it,” Oburos said, “you want to set them free?”

“Then shut her up!”

Shaking his head, Oburos lifted his spear and stuck it through the bars. He aimed it to scare the girl off, force her back in. But as the tip of the blade neared her, she stood her ground. Oburos frowned at her as she kept whispering that weird word at them. Her eyes focused on the blade, a hint of fear flashing through them, but she didn’t move.

“Are we even allowed to hurt them?” Oburos asked.

“You saw how many are coming in,” the djinn growled. “We can lose just one.”

Oburos was more concerned with making a corpse in the cell. Someone would have to clean it up, and it would probably end up being him.

“Look,” Oburos said, suddenly remembering why he had even come back in the first place, “Ilik said our shifts are over. Go up and join the fire. I’ll take care of this one.”

The djinn cursed and spit into the cell. It fell short of the girl, but the djinn seemed satisfied as he turned and left.

“Don’t let her get away with this,” he muttered as he walked off. “I don’t want her bugging me like this every night.”

Then he was gone, and Oburos was staring down this stupid human girl and debating whether or not to run her through.

“Idiot,” Oburos muttered. “I don’t want to clean up your blood and guts. I already clean up the rest of the filth you humans leave behind in there.”

The human’s eyes suddenly snapped up to meet Oburos’s, her mouth settling into an uncertain line. It was strange, but he was certain that was the first time any of the humans had looked him right in the eye.

Then she backed away and sat down on the floor. Oburos pulled his spear out and exhaled with relief. One less mess to wipe up.

He was missing the party. Giving the girl one last stern look so that she would behave, he turned and started to walk away.

As he left, the girl said something. Oburos stopped in mid-step, looked back, but then shook his head and kept going. He had a bonfire to get back to.

But the more he thought about it, the more he was certain of it.

“I can see you,” she had said.

He had understood her.