[b]Kilaro Rock, Western Bapentui[/b]

The sound of drums rolled soft over the grass as night fell over the isolated camp of the Seusebi. A day had passed over a murder trial. A frantic defense had been given of the charged human. Asha was not too keen to jump to quick conclusions. Especially given the possibility of circumstances.

As the noon sun grew later the prosecuting chiefs had argued the point. Setting before the Seusebi their evidence and their witnesses. The day had dawned as the great priestess retired to deliberate. There was no doubt she wished to be back within the capital. But the special circumstances had been declared, and Mami Sebo of the Bugan was stubborn to try him in his hills, and not in the city. It was much the problem of the rural distant chiefs that swore their feilty.

The priestess having retired closed the day's formalities, and the warriors dispersed as the murderer was interred in his cage.

“How long will this last?” a satyr youth asked, as he followed his companion up the grassy hills from the campsite below. He was sprightly, skinny. A curly head of head curled up around his head like a nest for starlings.

“Both sides have passed a case, I don't think mother will take more than a night to come to the verdict.” the older one said, Niyo. Without his mask he was a patiently apathetic and indifferent looking warrior. His eyes flat and burrowed on the horizon. He lips pressed tight as his hand over his spear. His hair was shaved short, almost bald. A patch of beard grew from his browned chin. “We'll be heading for home soon no doubt with permission granted to Mami to execute the human.”

“What of his kin though?” the younger one asked, “I don't think they'll appreciate it. And they're present.”

“They have to.” Niyo shrugged indifferently, “It's honor. If they do wish to fight it beyond tradition then so be it. We will lay the case to rest in combat, and take Madai out with the rest of his brothers.”

“But out here?” the young one asked, “Of all places? And not in any villages?”

“I assume Mamai didn't want his people to riot.” Niyo grinned as he reached the top of the hill. He still wore his armor, which shone in the crystal clearness of the stars above.

The sky spanned over head with a clear brilliance. The stars looked down, shining like diamonds as the world turned below. Not a stretch of cloud occupied or obscured the clarity of the night. And with the full moon and the entire menagerie of star-light the night was bright. A soft illumination shone across the grass. Black and blue turning over in the fields in waves as the breeze played with the ocean of tall grass. Kilaro rock stood in the distance, a perfectly black monolith against the sky's light and the thick band of stars that ran from behind it.

“They say the Afar Moa watch us from the sky. All the thousands of them.” the young Satyr said in awe, “I am never not impressed with their kingdom.”

“And I am no priest and have no comment, Rwan.” Niyo commented, planting his spear into the rich savannah soil, “You've listened to mother's stories more than you have danced with the spear. It makes me wonder, brother.” he teased.

“I have practiced!” Rwan Yesobi protested, blushing visibly in the night light. His voice cracked and broke, shaken from the jab, “I-it's just that I am not good.”

“No you're not.” Niyo grumbled, “You move and swing like you're drunk still, and can not seem to find your mark. Your throws are even more frightening.”

“Then let me practice more!” Niyo's brother begged, “With your spear!”

“Mine?” the older one snickered, “No, I say you won't. It's far too sharp for you.”

Rwan pouted, throwing himself down into the grass. He sat staring off at the distant horizon. His brother loomed over head watching the darkened country.

“Why are we not in the camp?” Rwan asked.

“Why are you not? You chose to follow me.”

“I don't know.” Rwan squeaked, with a risen voice.

“You should follow less then, learn to lead a little.” Niyo nodded, “Maybe you'll be able to assert yourself in fighting then.”

“It is hardly as if I will go anywhere with it. There are three of you ahead of I. The most I could hope to amount for is to stay home the rest of my life, and live within the city.” Rwan waxed, “So why not listen more then to the stories. I will use it for something.”

“Perhaps.” said Niyo.

The two brothers fell into a palpable silence. The regular celebration of life at the camp continued, reserved but happy in itself. Staccato drums wavered over the air. The faint subtle melodies blew out when the breeze blew just right, carrying their notes out further from the lightly plucked two-string gabrs and panflutes. It wasn't as strong as weekend celebrations, or as proud as holier days.

The peace was unrequited. Broken only by a silver flash that shot in the moonlit air. The sudden flash awakening Niyo from his watchful doze as he turned to meet the thorn, to have it find a mark in his armored chest.

Reflexively, he shouted in shock for his brother to get down as the darted arrow burrowed itself shallowly in the scaled armor of his breast. Quickly, almost his spear was in the air as fast as the arrow came, spreading dirt through the air like a ribbon as he spun to where the missile had been fired.

His heart racing Rwan was too frozen in the grass, watching his brother move fluid like a moving stream on his hooves. His eyes widened in the shock. The world vibrant in his surprise. He felt almost floating as the prince sprung across the grass, the long spear coming into two hands as he plunged through the darkness to the dark shape not far behind on two legs. It too drew a weapon, the dark curvature of a bow falling from his moonlit hands as the assailant charged to meet the wary prince.

Rwan sprung to his hooves, his heart racing violently in his chest. He could feel its pulse as far up as his throat. He was too frozen to scream and alert the camp below. He was too terrified to do so. Or to enthralled by the movements of his brother.

He moved quick, thrusting his spear at the dark creature. Star light glinted off the iron tip as it crashed through to where he stood. With a sweep from a hoof he dropped through the grass as a knife's blade arced across to where his face was.

A wooden crack snapped across the shadow's face as the prince carried his response with the rest of his movement. Dancing around to behind the attacker.

Retreating up, he went to assume the higher ground. The attacker was a human, a man without a tail or hooves on his legs. Dressed in nothing but lightly beaded armor he bound back, swinging at Niyo's jabs. Batting them aside with the knife. A quiver of arrows bounced on his back as he moved.

Unrequited, Niyo rose the spear over his shoulder and swung it over his head like a long club. The wood bent and yawned as it arced downwards through the warm night air. The human ducked under, stepping to the side as the spear's tip crashed into the rich clay where he stood. Tip burrowed in the dirt the man reached out with his dagger, charging at Niyo.

But he didn't stop moving. Turning aside he swept the polearm up out of the ground. Spinning round the human assailant at the sharp iron thorn cut through the air. Rwan could hear the the whistling of the metal as it cut, and he scrambled back through the tall long grass as the sharp head gouged its way into the assailants side. Catching on the quiver it dragged down, cutting the leather straps and drawing ribbons of blood from his side to his side. Never mind the wooden and leather beads.

Screaming in pain the man went rigid. His hands twisted in sharp agony against the deep gash. He staggered, hissing at the hurt as it flowed warm from his side.

There wasn't question in what next. Niyo had won and he was intent on finishing. Diving like a hawk came the spear-tip, plunging deep through the man's torso with a crunching wet crash. He went stiff, then feel limp onto the wood. Dropping like a doll as Niyo pulled out the blade.

Rwan whimpered weakly as he lay in the grass. His legs drawn up tight against him, his arm held up as if to block a blow. His brother stood over the body, his shoulder raising and lowering, panting. He looked up, frantically searching the Savannah. The air felt tighter. A rich tensity permeated the night. Something was brilliantly off.

Some horn blew in the night.

“Rwan, we need to return to the camp.” Niyu said, “You were right, something felt fishy about this.

“Stay close to me. What ever you do, do not part with me. Not until we reach mother's tent. By Bouc Li Moa, I should have smelled this.”

“W-what's going on?” Rwan panicked.

“We'll find out later. Let's go!”