The Killing Time

Baga-Bars glanced up as a dark cloud momentarily blocked the sunlight. It was not a cloud, he realized with surprise, rather it was a large flock of carrion-birds circling up ahead. He had seen these before, back home in the steppes, but never this many at one time. Even after a pitched battle.

After watching the birds for a few moments, Baga-Bars made a small movement with his feet, guiding Maraeda forward. The normally imperturbable horse seemed nervous and reluctant to move towards their goal of the orgh-tosgon. Their intent was to scout out the orgh fort, planning a possible attack against these blood enemies of the Otog.

As they cleared the tree line, Baga-Bars pulled Maraeda up short. The scene spread out before them was like something out of a nightmare. The Han-Bugu and Han-Tsereg were attacking the orgh fort. There were many of the Al-Am-tam, dragons, breathing their killing fire. The orghs were dying almost as fast as they appeared, their bodies stacked high. The scent of death and desperate orgh fear was overwhelming. The earth here was sick and red with orgh blood.

This was not a battle. This was a slaughter. No more honor in this than killing an iniyek. Less even. When an iniyek was killed at least its meat and hides would provide food and shelter. Here, the Han did not even to bother to watch as the orgh bodies hit the ground. Except when it was an orgh-bugu, Baga-Bars realized. Then the Han swarmed about the body fighting each other over the grisly remains. Searching for something.

As a sad and mournful note from a great-horn drifted over the land, Baga-Bars turned Maraeda and raced back towards the Tsereg-ger back at the Otog-Tosgon. Sickened by this spectacle, Baga-Bars could almost feel sorry for orgh. Almost…


© 2001 Todd Bailey