Eseere: The Language of Wind

Amir ibn Amere Al Akhad

The High Chief’s Castle, Central City, Sovereign Tribal Lands, U’mtek, White Moon 3303 - September

 Bakkad Castle was built by the stone masons of Pisa and had been completely constructed of white and graystone marble over three thousand years ago and although the castle had been a haven of safety for Amir all these years, he no longer found comfort within the tall, thick walls.  Amir stood upon the parapet of Kiril Tower, immune to the cold and thinking of his sister Safiya. The castle towers shone brightly against the blue-black night sky and large, wet snowflakes blanketed the tall wintergreen trees and sloping valley surrounding it as he gazed across the snow-covered landscape at the surrounding villages and the glittering lights of Penza City in the distance.  He wondered what life had been like for her in their homeland of Nasai and although he sensed that she was safe, he got the feeling that she may not be for long; there was a danger in the air these days that even he could not deny. 

Amir heard footfalls trudging up the tower steps behind him and knew that it was his foster brother before Manu walked through the heavy iron door. The hinges creaked loudly in the cold and a rush of warm air created a cloud of thin mist when the door opened.

“Why so grim?” Manu asked as the door fell closed behind him and he came to stand beside Amir by the buffers. 

Manu Bakkad, the only son of Umanja Bakkad, the High Chief of U’mtek, was never one to brood and although he was only three years older than Amir he had made it his mission to make sure that Amir did so only as needed.  His lavender colored eyes twinkled playfully and his straight, silver hair hung over the light grey cloak that he wore over a light blue tunic suit in the silver and blue colors of his clan while Amir wore an identical suit and cloak but in his own clan colors. Amir’s cloak was dark orange and his doe-skin suit dark yellow.

 “You should be downstairs celebrating and dancing with an eager first daughter, not sulking in the cold,” Manu joked with good humor and lifted his hood over his head.

Amir shrugged non-committedly.  High Chief Umanja was holding a banquet in the Great Hall below to honor Amir’s having completed the U’mteki Martial Arts training and clan members and villagers had been invited from all over Penza to attend.  Umanja Bakkad was of no blood relation to Amir, but he had treated him like a son since Amir and Nakar had arrived upon the shores of U’mtek but despite the Chief’s generosity and good intentions for holding the banquet Amir would rather be on a ship headed for Nasai than here celebrating when his sister could be in danger. The only reason he had worked so hard at mastering the combative arts was so that he would be equipped to help his people and to return to his sister; he did not feel like reveling when he knew that somewhere across the Jusha Ocean his sister was without him and his people were not free.

“I don’t want to dance with any first daughters and I don’t feel like celebrating,” Amir responded, his black eyebrows furrowed. 

At twenty moons, he was nearly as tall as Manu and still growing, but leaner and lankier than his older, well-muscled foster brother.  Amir’s hazel eyes glistened with angst as he stared back at Manu who did not respond but instead pulled out his hand-carved pipe from his pocket and crumbled Chowan leaves into it silently; waiting.

“Sorry,” Amir finally said and turned away from his foster brother. 

“I was thinking about my sister. I want to go to her. Now,” Amir griped.

Manu was sympathetic when he replied, “You know that you cannot, brother.”

Manu’s words only ignited Amir’s anger and he whirled on Manu. 

“And why not?! I’ve finished the training – done all of the studying! All I have to do now is complete the Waliyun training and how can I possibly learn everything about being a Waliyun officer here in U’mtek?! I have to go!”