The Oathbreaker's Shadow **SAMPLE COMPLETE**

Part 10 - Chapter 5.2

‘Dharma, this is brilliant,’ he said as he handed her the loom.

‘Thanks! Loni taught me how to tassel properly. It’s hard.’

‘You’re telling me.’ Raim’s own attempts at carpet weaving had failed miserably. His knots were uneven and the pattern never connected properly. He could wield a sword expertly with his hands but tiny strings befuddled his fingers.

The Amarapura Mountains, their lofty snow-covered crags now Tarik’s desolate home, disappeared into the northern horizon. The tribe marched on, working their way across the flat plains towards Kharein. The steppes – their territory – stretched for miles, flat and calm like water in a bucket. Although all around it spread extremes – mountains to the north, desert to the south, dense, thick forests further east and west – when Raim stood on the steppes nothing could be seen but land and sky. And if you did not know every inch of that land and sky intimately, getting lost was as simple as closing your eyes and spinning around in a circle. There were no landmarks beyond the blades of grass and no signposts except the stars. The universe opened for miles above them. Their land was like their history: eternal.

They travelled for three nights before reaching Kharein, not bothering to build their yurt every night but instead sleeping out under the clear night sky full with stars, until it was light enough to move again.

Every step they took closer to the city, their population grew. All tribes were on their way to the capital, some with a Yun hopeful, but most simply for the annual Festival. The excitement that the festival created was a welcome change from the slow monotony of nomadic life. It was a time for all Darhan citizens to revitalize their skills and barter for supplies they would need for the rest of the year. It was a chance for young people to decide which clan they might aspire to join and to what service they wanted to dedicate their lives. And for most Darhanians, it was the time to meet and choose a partner from outside their tribe.

But by far the most exciting event of the Festival was the Yun selection. Since every man and woman in Darhan was trained in basic fighting arts, watching the talented apprentices battle to join the best of the best was a great highlight. For the apprentices themselves, to win brought honour to the entire tribe, and this was Raim’s chance to be the star.

Kharein itself was shaped like a pentagon and surrounded by a long, low wall. The wall served more as a way to section off the inner city from the masses of yurts that surrounded it than as any means of defence, as Kharein needed little defending. The flat, isolated land that surrounded the city meant that any attacking army could be seen from miles away, and would be met well before it reached the city. On every point of the pentagon stood a tall watchtower, guards keeping a vigilant eye for suspicious plumes of dust. During Festival season, the yurts were scattered around the outside of the city walls, clustered together by clan like white petals around a flower. This was the only time Kharein truly looked alive. Without the visiting population it was simply a dried up bud – the centre of royal activity, perhaps, but not the home of people’s hearts. The people of Darhan could not be settled. They moved constantly, shifting with the days of the year, the seasons, the animals. By the end of the month-long Festival even the merriest Darhan grew restless. They dispersed, seeds on the wind, and yet remained unified. It was the life of the Darhan, and had been for centuries.

When they finally stopped, Raim couldn’t even see the outer wall for all the yurts and tents that had been set up. To an outsider it might have looked haphazard, but each tribe knew its place; each clan had their own position and style of yurt. Setting up their home again took about an hour, but Raim took pride over every rope, peg and inch of frame. If things went according to plan in Kharein, this would be the last time he ever set up his yurt with Loni and Dharma. After he took the knot to join the Yun, there would be no turning back to his old life.

He was finishing up positioning one of the woven tension bands that held the felt outer covering of the yurt in place when Loni stepped out of the door, Dharma holding his hand. ‘We are heading over to visit the Una clan, to show off Dharma’s weaving skill.’

Raim patted Dharma on the head as she went by. ‘You’ll blow them away. You’re the best weaver I know.’

‘Shall we meet you in Kharein? I know you have something important to choose.’ Loni winked.

Raim swallowed down unexpected nerves and nodded, then waved them goodbye. He had to choose his promise string. The time had almost come.

When Raim was satisfied that their home was well built and the frame wouldn’t topple at the slightest breeze, he went inside. Hanging above a small shrine to the desert-goddess Sola, there was a small piece of jagged, silvered glass, which served as their only mirror. Raim stood in front of it and unwrapped the cloth turban from around his head. If he wanted to enter the city, he would have to do it not as a young tribemember of a lowly goatherder clan, but as a proud young apprentice, about to battle for his position in the Yun. Mhara had warned him that the battle could start at any time during the Festival, and that he had to be ready to be called upon at any moment. For that, he needed to be dressed and ready to go, most importantly with his head bare and open to the sky.

He was ready. But was Kharein ready for him?

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