Chronicles of Golden Bear

[Golden Bear]

No not yet. I've got a bunch written and I need to find a break point so that I can at least do a partial posting. There is just a lot of ground to cover with the events right now.

[Golden Bear]

New Postings 10-24

These are copied over from the Babylon forum for our hosts to read! Two new ones.

[Golden Bear]

Roads to Kurra

After a short gallop, the two riders pulled their mounts up and let them rest for a moment while they dismounted and stretched. A late afternoon sun spread its warmth and inspired lassitude. After the recent rains, the plains were covered with fresh green grass. The pair were in a bowl of green that stretched away to Kurra, barely visible on the horizon to the west, and to the limits of vision all other directions. The horse and the pony took the opportunity to eat, tearing clumps of grass out in big mouthfuls.

Shogun put his hands over his head and arched his back to the accompaniment of small popping sounds. “You may be accustomed to life in the saddle, my wandering hillman, but I could use a hot bath now and then to take the aches away.”

He shook his head and said, “Imagine them showing us that army of Ancient Zeus Cavalry. They are either our best friends, or they are trying to tell us something.”

Golden Bear nodded his agreement. “That was a message for us. We just need to read it correctly. We never would have suspected their presence so they want to get some kind of reaction out of us. After all, if they wanted to attack, they could have just ridden in on Kurra with no warning and there would have been nothing that we could do about it.”

“We will have to send a message to Babylon about them and about that massive army of horsemen to the north also. I just hope that Con doesn’t fly off the handle again,” Shogun said with a chuckle.

Overhead, birds flew and there were rustlings in the grass. Tearing noises came from the horses eating. Everything seemed at peace.

Shogun turned in a circle to admire the expansive view and then stopped, looking east. Golden Bear saw him and then looked to that direction himself.

The horizon in that direction was marked by a massive dust cloud – a cloud that seemed to be progressing towards the mountains south of Kurra.

Shogun and Golden Bear shared a silent look between them and then remounted their horse and pony. This time the took off at a gallop towards Kurra, a gallop that would not end until they had reached the town.

--

South of Kurra there lies a recently opened caravan route between Lostboies and Babylon. This road had begun to carry the trade of the two nations. Since it is new, it is not as traveled as many of the older routes, but there were nevertheless pack trains, both large and small, spaced every few miles.

Ghoulsen of Lostboies walked along the road to Kurra, occasionally flicking a stick at the rump of one of his two pack mules. He usually traveled with his son on his trading trips but this time he walked alone. It was his first time to make the trip to Babylon and he had thought long and hard before attempting it. First there was the war with Ankh-Morpork on the northern border of Babylon which concerned him. Then, as the road was opened up to travel by Lostboies laborers, the Horde swept south into the region. However, as the weeks rolled by without any reports of troubles, he finally decided to take the risk. It was a lonely trek. Only rarely did he meet any travelers going either direction. Earlier in the day he had passed by a large caravan headed south from Kurra, loaded with silks from Babylon.

Each time a southbound group met him, Ghoulsen asked for news, always wary that the situation up north could turn violent in a hurry. These traders, however, said the same thing that all the others had – Kurra was still under Babylonian control and the Horde and Ankh-Morpork seemed to be observing some kind of cease fire with Babylon. So Ghoulsen continued his walk. He was near enough to Kurra now that he anticipated that he could be there at least by tomorrow night. It would be nice to sleep under a roof for a night. He planned to continue all the way into the city of Babylon itself. As a trader he knew that his goods increased in value with every step he took away from their source. Also, he wanted to see the fabled golden towers.

It was sunny and dry that day. The road had firmed up after the season’s rains had passed. Tick, tick, tick, his little stick made a little noise as he encouraged the mule to keep walking. One mule was no problem but the other one would slow down at any opportunity.

Soon he saw the dust cloud ahead that indicated the presence of travelers coming south towards him. Some more company would be welcome, even for a few minutes. The cloud got larger. Good, a large caravan! They might have some food to share, food that would be better than the dates and unleavened trail bread that he carried.

The dust cloud became larger and larger. Ghoulsen stopped his mules when he realized that it was much too big to be from a caravan. It spread on both sides of the road and bore down towards him much too rapidly. He looked around for someplace to hide – perhaps down that swale over there and amongst some live oaks. Tick, tick, he got the mules started that way. He continued to look over his left shoulder at the approaching dust cloud. He could make out the tiny dark forms of riders now. There were a great many of them. As he reached the shelter of the oaks he considered; the trees were only a hundred yards off the road and a large group of horsemen would probably scour both sides of the thoroughfare. He had done this before and was good at sheltering himself however.

Ghoulsen noted the swale that he was in and saw that it turned into a blind draw for a ways ahead. He could move unnoticed for a time that direction and look for something better. Tick, tick, and they started down the draw. Now they could not see him but he could also not see how close they were to him. He kept looking for a secure place, hidden from the road. As he did this, he could begin to feel the ground beneath his feet quiver. The vibration continued endlessly and amplified ever so gradually.

Now, he could see the dust cloud rising over the top of the hill that was hiding him. Cursing, he cast about for a place where he could not be seen from the road. Any moment now, outriders could spot him. At best he would get robbed, but more probably the worst would happen instead. He considered abandoning the mules and hiding for himself only. But the mules were important to his business and, additionally, any one spotting them would know for certain that he was about somewhere. No, he needed to hide everybody. The ground shake was noticeable now and even spooked the normally sedate mules somewhat. He could HEAR the rumble of an approaching mass. Frantic he and the mules trotted faster while he wildly looked around. And… he spotted the cutting of an antique and ruined mine scraped into a hillside, facing away from the road. Ghoulsen shooed the mules into this hollow and then had them crouch down. Fumbling, he tore off the bindings for their loads and pushed them aside – anything to keep their profile low.

And he crouched himself. He found that if he lay down at the edge, he could look back up the draw and see a tiny segment of road. He turned his travel robe over to its green side and pulled it over himself – so only his eyes peeping out would be visible and they would be shadowed. He hoped that that whoever they were, they would not be too careful in their scouting.

Then he saw them. Trotting in formation. Large horses with large men in armor. He had never seen such a thing before. This was a mighty and a threatening force. The lead unit passed carrying a large red flag and many smaller ones of all different colors. What was this huge unit doing here on the road south of Kurra. Then the next large unit came down the road. And then another. And more and more.

[Golden Bear]

A Place that Once Was

Babylon sparkles in the late summer sun. The recent rains washed the buildings so that their marble gleams true. Between paving stones and down the edges of the streets are hopeful tufts of grass and weeds struggling for their moments in the sunlight. It seems a normal and peaceful day with the business of Babylon going forward at its measured pace. But underneath this veneer, matters are brewing up to a boiling point.

“I guess this answers the question about whether the Horde is our friends or not,” Beta gestures at scrolls laid out on a table. “Golden Bear and Shogun should be burning incense to Innana that they still have their skins attached and not hanging outside some Horde tent.”

E_T, Master of the Armies, lets out an enormous snort followed by a cough. “Like I haven’t told you guys this, over and over – and over. The Horde has never been trustworthy. Shoot, they not even good enough negotiators to hide the naked greed that they demonstrate in every motion.” He lounges back on a couch.

Con’s knife is sticking in a scroll on the table. The scroll is riddled with cuts as if Con had mauled it repeatedly with that same knife. “Why did they tear up that road out of Kurra, though? If they wanted Kurra, why not leave the road? They just don’t make sense. And when we ask them, oh-so-politely, what they think they are doing in our land, wrecking our roads, they send this snotty reply. Asking us if we’re Euphorican at heart and demanding to know whether we’re going to burn our towns or fight. Full of cheek they are.” Con’s fist slams down hard on the table.

In the background a strange and almost ethereal music comes from a young man playing a stringed instrument. He watches the others and listens but seems more to look within to the sounds that his fingers produce.

“Hunh. When did you get back into town, Planet?,” asks Skrobism. The young man turns towards him and stares but says nothing. “Planet, Planet, hello? Everything OK with you?”

Planet smiles a strange half-smile and replies, “Fine!,” and continues with his playing.

Skrobism looks at Planet a moment longer, raises his eyebrows and turns back to the conversation. “How are we going to bring order out of this confusion? We’ve got the Horde saying that we are still at war and with huge armies ready to attack – but they don’t. We’ve got Ankh-Morpork saying that they want peace with us finally so that we can work together to attack the Horde. We’ve got Desolatinous Roe also asking for an alliance against the Horde but they won’t send us the iron that they promised months ago – and now we can’t get it because the road is out.”

“That’s a lot of things indeed,” muses Lord Minister for Commerce, Micha. “The Horde threatens us on our far eastern flank but won’t attack. Ankh-Morpork, our blood enemies for so many years at the same time, out of nowhere, claim they want peace and start edging troops towards our borders as if they are going to help us to fight against the Horde. It seems so obvious that the Horde and the Morporkians are working together in a clumsy charade to allow Morpork to stab us. Can it really be that simple? Can these people be that unsubtle?”

“Bah. The Horde likes to dream that they are subtle but they are as subtle as a hammer. They flatten everything that they come up against. They pervert their allies before turning on them and rending them. You’ve put your finger on it, Micha. The Horde and Ankh-Morpork are working together.”

“Well,” starts Beta in an attempt to keep the meeting moving forward, “we still have friends out there and perhaps this is now the time when we will all start really working together. Lord Nuclear of Lostboies has always been our best friend even though communications are slow down that direction. And Desolatinous Roe could potentially be our strongest ally… and we need their iron.”

“But we need to decide on a plan and get moving on it. Are we indeed going to implement the plan of falling back and razing everything ahead of advancing enemies? Fight when we can, retreat when we must, and burn everything of any use?”

The people stop talking for a moment and look around at each other. There is a shared acknowledgement that Babylon is at a point where harsh decisions need to be made. Outside events are forcing them to take actions.

“That’s it then. We’ll start by evacuating Kurra, again, but we’ll torch the town as we leave and take away everything that we can. It’ll cost us our horse herds, but it will deny the Horde the base of operations that they’ve been demanding.” Master of Armies, Lord E_T looks to Con, “Take charge of that, Con. I need to go up to Zariqum to supervise its defense against the Morporkians.”

Con nods as he makes a growling sound and pulls his knife from the table as he leaves to undertake the task. “I’ll need to baby sit those two idiots, Shogun and Golden Bear again I suppose.”

Beta tells E_T, “I’ll reply to the Morporkian peace offer, and keep talks going for a while to give you time to pull your troops together. We could be under attack within a week.”

“Do what you can, Beta, every day you can delay them will be useful.”

From outside begins the noise of horses gathering and troops beginning to be marshaled in the Great Square. The Lords of Babylon would soon be traveling.

----

Con and his horsemen rode into Kurra like a wildfire driven by an avenging wind. Without a break, details of riders rode into the surrounding countryside to pull in the farmers and herders from outlying districts. Inside the town the local guard ran down the few streets, pounding on doors, rousing neighbors with the dreadful news. Everybody must leave – be on the road within hours – this time the town would be brought down.

Frannos lived with his wife and three children in a hut outside of town. He had two small fields that he tilled. One field came to him after his brother had died of fever and his wife had brought the other with her when they married. He was lucky to have three children that lived, but unlucky that they were girls. But Frannos needed help with the fields so when he could not afford to hire help, two of the little girls came out to help him. Sonnu, his wife, kept the house and tended a large vegetable garden that grew beans and peppers and other small crops. She kept the littlest girl with her while she worked. Once a week all three would put on their clean cotton best clothes and travel into Kurra to sit in the market. It gave them a chance to sell small woven mats that Sonnu made and to buy salt and tools – and to chat with other people and catch up on the news around Kurra.

On the last trip into town the market had been buzzing with news of the Horde armored cavalry that had ridden right up to the southern edge of town before disappearing south. This army had cut the new road to Lostboies and pillaged anything that they came across. A single trader had come into town at dusk after the Horde troops had disappeared. Leading his two mules he had gone into the town square to tell the town militia captain about the endless line of units that he had seen pass. Lord Shogun and Golden Bear had been there to hear his tale.

Frannos had bought a new, sharp, planting hoe on this trip, thinking of its use as a weapon as well as a tool. They had all planted their grains only a few weeks ago and watched them grow to maturity with eagerness. When the blessed sun shining down the plants shot up and bore their grain and then began drying. They fields only wanted another week without rain to be truly ready for the harvest. Frannos had a feeling that he should not wait. For families like his, with the five of them plus his mother in the old house next door, lived close to the edge at all times. If the rains didn’t fall in time, the seeds could be wasted. If the rains started again too soon the crops would rot in the fields. For the last week leading up to harvest the men would sleep in the fields lest thieves sneak in and steal the crops at night. Rodents would spoil the stored grain – insects could spoil the soil and kill the roots of the plants. It was all touch and go. Even when the crops were all stored, it was always a contest whether the grain would last until the next harvest. There were years when they would need to start eating the seed grain that they saved – then they would need to take credit from the townspeople to buy seed.

Yet, Frannos took pride in his life and was happy that he owned two fields. He had started to build a new and larger house when he had time. He, with the help of neighbors, had cut down the trees that he needed for framing and had build the shell of the house. While the crops grew he had put the thatch over the top so that he could finish it during the next winter.

Today, following his intuition, he was harvesting the almost ready crops in one of his fields. After the scene in the market a few days back he had a feeling that there might not be enough time to wait for the grain to be fully dry. He already had almost half of one of the fields harvested. He used the blade of his new hand hoe to cut the stalks at the base and made piles for the two girls to stack on a hand cart. The hoe itself was shaped like the letter “J” with a sharp edge on the inner part of the hook. The outer part of the hoe could be used to dig out weeds or to make holes for seeds to be dropped in. Everything was accomplished by hand and by the strength of his back.

Frannos bent over and gathered a cluster of stalks under his left arm and then, whack, whack, whack, cut them with the hoe. He laid them on the ground, straightened his back, moved over to another group of plants and repeated the process. One of the girls raced in and snatched up the pile of cut grain and carried it to the other girl on the cart. They sweated in the sun and the humidity.

Out in the countryside like this, there were few things moving other than birds and the other farmers working in their own fields. Some were harvesting early like Frannos, others were gambling on waiting the extra week. Approaching riders were noticed from miles away. Since these riders came from Kurra, the men knew that they would not be a threat – at least not a threat to their lives. The cluster of riders spread out and went trotting through the dispersed homesteads and fields, shouting something as they passed. When one drew close to Frannos and his daughters he gathered the two of them under his arms while he held the hoe tightly.

The sweating and dust covered rider shouted to him from the edge of the field, “The Horde is coming and we’re abandoning Kurra. Gather up what you can, FAST, and be on the way into town by tomorrow noon. Everything that you can’t take with you must be burned or broken. We’re not coming back this time. Make sure you tell everybody that we might miss!” With that, the rider kept his horse trotting as he rode on to the next field and the next farmer.

Frannos felt a cold fist grow inside the center of his chest. Knowing that something was coming did not take much edge off of the reality of it when it happened. Everything he knew, everything about his life was going away. He knew nothing else other than his little corner of the world and could not conceive of what the future would hold.

He stopped his harvesting and told the girls to tie down the load of grain on the cart. Did he have time to crack the husks and sort out the chaff before they left? No, that took days. He would need the hand cart to carry other things if they were to leave.

“Lay off tying it down. Throw the grain on the ground.” The two girls just stared at him. He climbed on one wheel of the cart with a grunt and started throwing the stocks down into the dirt. The girls began crying.

That evening he and Sonnu took a measure of their few belongings. Frannos knew that they needed to take seed grain with them. Wherever they wound up, that would be their only opportunity to make a new life. Some clothes, a few pots for cooking, that was the rest of it.

In the morning he loaded bags of grain onto the hand cart and Sonnu made bundles for her and the girls to carry. Even his old mother had a bag to tote – she had insisted. He hurried because at dawn he could see the smoke of fires from the fires further away. The fields were all burning. They burned with a white smoke that drove straight up into the sky. The heat of the fires caused the smoke to geyser so high that it formed new clouds in the sky. Here and there a darker patch of smoke appeared from a homestead that had been fired.

Soon, the leading edge of the trickle of refugees began passing on the lane by Frannos. He was ready to go but stood there staring at their two old houses and at the frame of the new one. He knew that he should start them burning – even had a fire started to do it – but somehow he could not. But one of the riders shepherding the evacuees rode off the lane into the house cluster. “Here, let me help you with that. It’ll be easier that way,” he said kindly. He leaned over and took a brand from Frannos’ pile and rode to the houses and sheds put them to the torch.

Frannos turned his back, “Let’s get out of here.” He took up the poles of the hand cart and began pulling it behind him. The girls with their sacks of chickens and clothes began walking ahead of him with their mother in the lead. His mother walked beside him. They joined the rivulet of farmers fleeing into Kurra, no longer Frannos the farmer but now six more refugees. Frannos took one last look over his shoulder and so the thatch of the new house in full blaze like a giant tree of fire.

In Kurra, Con felt as if he had been in the saddle for the last three days without a break. First the ride from Babylon and then he had stayed awake all night supervising the impending destruction of Kurra. The town itself would be the last to be torched after all the people had passed through on their ways to Babylon. Men had been pulling down stone walls and piling hay up against buildings to help them burn. Wells had had dead animals thrown in to poison them – fresh water had to be brought up from the river now. Some of the families had already been escorted out that night in order to get them on the road before the biggest crowd of people started to leave. Guardsmen stood ready to prevent panic and looting. Remaining townspeople moved like zombies – not able to totally grasp what was happening.

Con could see the distant fires that morning. He figured that it would take the rest of the day to bring those people into, and hopefully through, the town. They could burn the town the next day. “Micha, check with the scouts again. Make certain they keep a sharp eye out for the Horde. They could fly in here at any time. Your troops will have to slow them down if they do.”

Micha eyed the bleary-eyed Master of Martyrs and Discipline. “Like I don’t know what I’m doing already. You, you’ve got to get some sleep. We can handle things for now. Go get some rest while you can. And don’t worry, I’ll check with the scouts again right now.”

Con realized the truth of what the man was saying. He climbed down off the horse, almost dropped and let a man take it away so that it could rest. He walked into the same building where he and the other Lords had gathered scant weeks ago to decide the fate of Kurra. Now it had all come full circle and they were really evacuating the town. He looked in a room, saw a bed and sat on it to take his boots off. He saw the hamster picture that Shogun had made for Golden Bear, still hanging on the wall. It made him chuckle as sleep came like a wave and laid him low with one boot still on.

All day and all night long, families and animals passed through the town. The original trickle had turned into a river of people and a standing cloud of dust. In the morning the townspeople finally finished their exit, many of them with oxen or mules to pull carts of goods and supplies. The Lostboies trader, Ghoulsen, went with them, wondering how he would ever find his way back to his family. Con rode around the streets watching soldiers torch the buildings. He grabbed a burning torch himself and threw it on the thatched roof of the building where he had slept the night before. As he and the last of the soldiers pulled out of the ruined settlement, troops of horsemen followed, tearing down bridges on the roads and cutting down trees to fall across the road and block it. Kurra burned for days, the pillar of smoke it created making a dark exclamation point in the sky for people to see for miles.

[Shogun Gunner]

what can i say GB. Great stuff. Really compelling reading.