A Matter of Justice

[Hirem]

63 of the Day, Fall of 509 A.V.
They were in Yahebah by the dozen, and it was a suprise they were not torn down yet. But, then again, Hirem was mad. Lost. Who would try to even find him? The sheets of parchment read, in hasty Shiber,

COME! FIGHT FOR JUSTICE!

My fellow Benshirans, we had been slaves to Eypharians when the Valterrian shook our world. We lost our cities, but we could flee the tyrants. It killed our noble line, but gave us a chance for life! My fellow Benshirans, I will not say the Valterrian was for our good. But it gave us a second chance! Quickly, I say, before the Eypharians notice us again! Join me, Hirem the strong, in pressing the attack on our opressors! Come! Join me, and fight in Yahal's pure name!

Most people ignored them, for now was a chance to rebuild, not to fight. But sometimes a young soul would attempt to find Hirem, and when word from his sources in Yahebah told him that one set out to find him, he found them first. He would openly declare them part of his tent, and they would follow him back to his tents, and join the small war-band he had set up.

It was this process that Hirem reflected on as he studied one of his posters, carefully observing his wording. He had angered many Benshiran tents already with his plans, but he truly believed it was all what Yahal told him to do. He was not in this war to profit, but to liberate. He shook his head, and stood up from his sitting position on the sands. Soon, soon, he could bring the fight to his enemies, and fulfill Yahal's holy wish.

[Hirem]

64 of the Day, Fall of 509 A.V.Life in Hirem's tent consisted of training during the day and during Masha, they would often sacrifice and pray to Yahal, and sometimes Hirem would make another grand speech of their mission, but that was it. Hirem loved the dancing and songs when he was a boy, but the arts had to be given up for this life of justice. If a Benshiran disagreed with this, he was free to leave, but Hirem always moved his tent after one of his family left.

Sometimes they fought an Eypharian, but mostly, their clashes were with the Kalanue over the tents movement through the Chaktawe lands. Or, even, if Hirem was getting notorious enough, other Benshirans. Hirem prayed to Yahal if this happened, for he was hell-bent on ensuring no bloodshed between his people. But, if it did happen, Hirem would solemnly ask for forgiveness. Often times he believed he had gained it, but one famous incident for his tent was when he killed a Benshiran, and in a mad rage, rushed through a sandstorm to return the body to Yahebah.

His war-band ran at 60 strong, and he knew it was nearly time. He had studied battles for years, and when it came down to it, he knew his people could fight the Eypharians. Hirem was confident of this.

At least, that was what he told himself as he stared at Ahnatep. It was on the far horizon, but he saw it, and he hated it. It stood for everything he had fought against, and he was sworn to remove every stone put there, by Benshiran hands or otherwise. It was sunset, and he was alone, his tent off a hundred meters or so. They were beginning their prayers, but he had come here to see his enemies.

He made a little pinching motion with his fingers, closing them over Ahnatep. Soon, soon. He was only man in the dunes for what looked like miles, and he smiled at that. "Hirem, the lord of the desert." He whispered to himself. Yes, that sounded about right.

[Hirem]

When Hirem got back to camp, most of his family were already asleep. He walked past them quickly and silently, but he was unable to fool his captain. Captain Kihur was dependable, brave, and loyal to the very end, but he gave his friend hell for leaving. Kihur was sitting by the fire, waiting for Hirem to get back. He grinned as he saw Hirem in his red coat trudging up to him, already aware of Kihur would 'advise' him next.

However, when he sat down across from Kihur, the captain instead leaned closer to Hirem. "You were scouting Ahnatep?" Hirem looked over at Kihur but did not comment, turning his gaze back to the fire.

"Yes. I observed the city of the tyrants." Hirem slowly and calmly said, controlling his emotions. Ahnatep disgusted him, as did the slavery of the past. If there was one thing Hirem hated in any race, scenario, or time, it was slavery. Hirem rubbed his knuckles together. "I watched as the city of the Eypharians prepared itself for night, unaware of the judge's prescence."

Kihur's eyes flashed with excitement. "Is it within our grasp? Is the city ripe for the taking?"
Hirem felt a flash of guilt at that. No...I am not taking the city. I will judge the people then I will leave...let Yahal judge them as he judged Hazahder.

Hirem laughed gently. "I don't think any man can truly have something in his grasp." He looked back at Kihur, conviction set in stone in his eyes. "But yes. I believe we can defeat them."

Kihur smiled, staring into the fire. "Let the Eypharians be judged." He stood up, stretched, then bowed to his friend and departed to his tent. Hirem stayed, and watched the fire. As Yahal wishes...let the Eypharians be judged.

[Hirem]

1 of the Day, Winter of 509 A.V.
Hirem paced about his Tent, watching the 60 Benshirans train vigorously. To his right, they were shooting bows at straw targets. To his left, Kihur was going throuhgh a training exercise. Hirem smiled. It did not matter how many Eypharians there were in the world. With soldiers like these, any evil would sink to its knees and weep.

Hirem heard footsteps close to him, and glanced behind him. A large tan man, with emerald eyes and short brown hair, was jogging to Hirem. The Lost Man stopped, and let the man reach him before asking, "How do you fare Sanas?"

Sanas knotted his brow. "Bad, considering the anxiousness with which we watch the next dune. Master, how long must we stay here?"

Hirem looked over Sanas with a careful eye. Unlike Hirem, whom many people thought of as older, Sanas was clearly a young man, and he showed it too. He was eager, and moved with wild haste. Hirem patted Sanas on the shoulder. "There is no reason to be anxious my dear Sanas. We are alone."

Sanas narrowed his eyes. "Not so close to Ahantep we aren't. We would not even hold off half the Eypharians now, should we not move farther into the desert?"

Hirem started to walk. "Yahal guides my path, and he has sent no signs to move." It was true that they had only moved when Hirem recieved a message from Yahal, but strangely, and perhaps conveniently, they had never moved one step west to Yahebah, just east to Ahnatep. Sanas looked like he was ready to argue, but he simply and reluctantly nodded, moving back to his training. Hirem frowned. Perhaps he is right...no. Yahal decides.

[Colombina]

A taut silence had fallen over the borders of Ahnatep. There was no wind and no clouds, even the hiss of sand shifting under animals' steps was absent. It made the men nervous to be constrained to wait in the perfect stillness and broiling heat.

When something did appear on the barren earth, men rushed to meet it.

As Hirem was contemplated the coming days in his tent, Sanas was calling to him.
"Master! Master! There is a Rapa here with words for you."

Surrounded by a respectful circle of men, a white-haired Rapa waited for Hirem. Like most of the wandering Rapa, he was lean from a life of hard labor and self-denial. If not familiar with Benshiran culture, one would guess that he was an old soldier.

Some of the men knew the Rapa. They asked for spiritual tidings or assured him of the continual excellence of the tent he had built for them in years past. He answered where he could with honesty and admitted ignorance where he had any doubt.

"I am sad I do not have more for each of you," he announced. "But I have one tiding that has been pressed on my heart. They are words of peace and patience, hard things for men of action to hear."
His right hand tightened in its grip around his staff.
"I wait for your leader to tell the sum of it, though."

[Hirem]

Hirem quickly ran to the cluster about the Rapa, and yelled a quick command. The Benshirans backed off, and Hirem thanked them. "Go back to your training!" He stopped Sanas before he left. "Fetch food for the Rapa, it is our duty to sustain him." Sanas nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Hirem turned to the Rapa. "It is an honor to have you in my Tent, Rapa. Please, come with me."

Hirem walked over to the edge of camp, paying close attention to the Rapa so he did not fall behind too much. Once they were out of earshot of the soldiers, Hirem smiled at the Rapa. "I am getting my men to fetch you food and drink. I could not bear it for a Rapa to starve on my watch." Hirem spread his arms wide. "Please, tell me what it is you came to tell me. I am eager to hear it."

[Colombina]

The Rapa followed Hirem with a word of thanks as the rest were dispatched elsewhere. Hirem enthusiasm made the news he bore that much harder. The man before the Rapa was a good man, but his ambitions threatened undoing.

"I thank you, Hirem," the Rapa knew his name, "For your generosity."
He bowed his head in a show of respect. As he straightened he announced his lineage.
"I am Netanal of the tents of none of the sons of Rapa."
His old brow crinkled in concern, "And I have tidings for you that I do not believe you will welcome. I bring them to you before I take them to your men, so you may not be unaware or deliver the words yourself to those who have fallen in with you."

He tightened his hand on his staff, "You have gathered many men here, they have brought their own food and water, but it runs low and you do not have the means to sustain them for much longer."
Netanal looked across the desert towards where the white and gold beacon of Ahnatep reflected the sun.
"I am not the Prophet, nor Yahal, but I have had dreams of late, a rare thing. And all these dreams are of your misfortune should you do what you intend."

The Rapa's voice was grave, "I have seen you on a horse, with blood up to the bridle and the bodies of your men float in this red oasis. Before you stands a stone jackal, tall as the walls of Yahebah."

Netanal leaned nearer. He was never given to exaggeration, but his voice was solemn.
"These are ill tidings, Hirem."

[Hirem]

Hirem lost his smile instantly, and he frowned. His eyes hardened, and he knotted his hands together at his waist. "That is troubling indeed. I-I am not sure what to make of this." He looked hard, scruntinizing this man that apparently foretold his disastrous fate. "A jackal you say? I know members of the guards in Ahnatep are Jackals."

He sighed. "Did you know that I was a son of Rapa? I could have been a priest, like you. But I became a warrior. But Yahal has never left my mind." Hirem looked off in the distance. "A few years ago, I was in Yahebah, when I had a dream. It was of Benshiran slaves in the Eypharian markets, and I started off the dream simply watching it from the distance. Then, I saw a Eypharian get mad, and he got his compatriots to help him beat a Benshiran. I watched them grab their knives, and before my eyes, their clothes washed away, and their skin crackled and blistered, and their eyes became monstrous."

"And as they turned to the Benshiran, suddenly, I was him. I felt their knives claw into my flesh, and the pain was excruciating. My blood spilled down on the streets, and then I heard a voice. "Such is the fate of all if nothing is changed." Hirem rubbed his knuckles. "That day, I embarked from the city and travelled deep into the desert. I remember the sun beating at me and the sand burning my feet, but I travelled on. I crossed a dune, and I saw a group of Eypharian men standing over a corpse. And I realized, it was me. Me from the dream. Enraged, I brandished my sword and slaughtered them. I made a vow then. The Eypharians were a blight upon the desert with their corruption and greed, and I decided to fight them and defeat them. I decided to fight all evils from the day."

Hirem spread his arms wide. "You would call me a man of action, but I am a man of conviction. I have set upon this course, and, be it foolish, I will never turn back." Hirem put a hand on Netanal's shoulder. "But I swear to you; these men are safe in my care."

[Colombina]

Netanal shook his head.
"But you did not become a Rapa, Hirem, and you bear no gnosis."

The old Rapa saw misfortune hinging on this man's stubbornness, lives broken for a cause that had no blessing. It made him more insistent as he spoke warnings.
"Your dreams have brought you to stir enmity when Yahal preaches purity of heart and trust in him. You are trusting in the might of your arm and the steel of your sword for your people's salvation."

Netanel stared towards the desert expanse, considering what histories lived and died there.
"Yahal has called us to battle in the past. It is not the struggle that is wrong, but the will behind it."
He turned his eyes back to Hirem's face.
"These men will die and the jackal will be unmoved."

The old man's eyes had the intensity of a holy word. He spoke with the conviction of a prophet scorned.
"Your version of Yahal has never left your mind, and it is not Yahal at all. You may call him your Lord, but you do not kneel to him like he is."
Netanal's voice had not raised, but it came from firmer foundations.
"Who are you to say a man's life is safe in your care? You are no god. Your pride is what makes you a man unwilling to turn away. It is not conviction."

The Rapa felt the urgency of the matter, it weighed on his shoulders.
"Turn away from your plans, Hirem. Turn away. They are as foolish as you admit them to be."

[Hirem]

Hirem knotted his brow, and if Netanel spoke with anger, he would speak with compassion. However, a very thick edge of contempt was in his voice. "If you will not listen to me when I speak of religion, listen to me when I speak of practicality." He put a hand around the Rapa's shoulders, and pointed his hand to the horizon. "There lays Ahnatep. And they are waiting."

He sighed. "500 years ago, we were slaves to them. And now, what has changed? Nothing." He removed his hand and stared into the Rapa's strong eyes. "Nothing. Formalities have passed between our people, but we are not brought together. We will be enslaved again by the Eypharians in time. Last time we ran when the Valterrian hit. Now, we will not be so lucky."

Hirem put his knuckles together. "I am attacking the Eypharians not simply out of religious fervor, but for my people. You will not deny me this love of my people." He gestured his hands away. "These men would die to protect the Benshirans. That is why they are here. To be a shield for us."

Hirem shook his head. "But please, you must be hungry. We can talk more at Masha."