Of Cikels and Jewels

Epilogue

"Sometimes I wish the world never was, Kerillia. All the anguish and pain I've played a part in creating. I can only justify myself until the weight of one death lies upon my shoulders. And I'm afraid soon that weight will be of millions."

"A Crown of Roses." By Paul Darley

Even the arrival of the tribe of Grimtooth couldn't bring solace to the grieving Cikels. When Jaeson arrived, the warriors and those too young or old to fight in the battle were collecting around the lake on the Shiner. It seemed to Jaeson that it shone a little less brightly, or perhaps he had just grown used to it. A few were eating, but most sat in sombre silence, with a hushed comment here or there. For the Battle of Pondlily was no victory for the Cikels, they had measured the price of their freedom in the blood; and found it too great. Children were left as orphans and elders were to bury the desecrated bodies of their children. As far away as they were, Jaeson swore he could still hear the shrill calls of vultures, as they celebrated their fortune – theirs was the only victory that day.

For the third time, Jaeson found himself walking up the steps to Callous's hut. Before he could open the door, he could hear the raised voices within.

"Hel Ja? Mento? Tis ii tes dawnlo fi kole!" He heard Grimtooth growl in his rough tone.

Jaeson felt something tug at his sleeve, he looked down to see little Kij looking up at him.

"Let me translate for you again." He whispered excitedly.

Jaeson crouched down, so he was level with the small Wood Cikel.

"You only want to know what's going on." He replied, knowingly.

Kij violently shook his head and stared at him pleadingly.

"I'm sorry little one, but these matters are naught for a child. You must be with your family. You said you had a little sister yesterday, go to her."

Kij reluctantly left, and Jaeson entered the room. Grimtooth had his green hair hastily braided, and he still wore his blood-soaked armour. Callous stood at the opposite side of the table to him, and his weary eyes reflected the loss he had received. In the corner, chained and lying pathetically in a ball was Lord Bertar, the last of his proud line. His eyes sockets were bleeding, and they left what looked like a tear stain down his cheeks, only the stain was red.

"This is Jaeson Calamity," Callous explained, "He helped us spy on Lord Bertar and assisted us in the battle. He speaks the common tongue."

"What's his stake in this?" Grimtooth demanded

"A Cikel tree," Jaeson interjected before Callous could reply, "I was promised the jewels of an entire Cikel tree."

To his surprise, Grimtooth began to laugh.

"You have some explaining to do, Callous." The Cikel snorted.

Callous sighed dejectedly as if this was the last thing he wanted to discuss, "Well you see, the jewels of a Cikel tree are like flowers. They cannot sustain themselves without the nutrition the tree provides. Within a few hours of being removed, they lose their colour and crumble into ash."

Before Jaeson could say a word, Grimtooth approached Lord Bertar.

"You hear that you greedy, white-haired cock," He sneered, as Bertar shrivelled up, "It was all for nothing! You wasted your entire army for the equivalent of a couple of worthless roses."

"And all you got were thorns." Jaeson smiled, remembering Bertar's previous statement.

"I'm sorry we lied to you, Jaeson." Callous began.