Kavio
Gold jingled on Kavio's ritual costume.
The day a man changed himself forever deserved a sky like this—perfect, blue like a faery's eye, and full of the smell of cut grass and fresh earth. From beyond the hill, he heard the song of the women washing the riverbed for gold. Their voices brought music to match the song he carried in his own heart. Young men with strong legs stomped the hillside. Each one carried a heavy pack full of dirt and rocks. They moved up and down the slope all the way to the quarry and back again. Their feet beat a steady drum.
Kavio knelt, took a deep breath like it was wine, and spoke his oath in front of Hertio, the new War Chief. That was all. When it was done, Kavio stood. He joined Hertio, side by side, and together they watched the men work—hundreds of them, like ants, crawling across the Unfinished Tor.
Hertio clapped him on the back. "Each clan that swears loyalty to me sends ten men. No more. Sometimes only two, but never less. They work for just one moon each year. That's all I get. With so few, I must do what I can. But imagine—twice as many men, for twice as long. Or better yet, every man from every clan, every moon, every season. Then there would be no mountain I could not build. It would not take twenty years to raise one hill. It would rise before your very eyes."
He gave a rough laugh. "Clans are more greedy with their men than with their virgins. I've often envied your old leader—what was it they said? That his bone flute drew men like cheap drink draws rats."
"He was never my leader," Kavio said.
The women's song by the river ended.
"There—the megalith," Hertio said, pointing.
A huge block of black basalt—cut from the earth and tamed like a whale pulled from a sea of stone—rested on thick tree trunks. Men pushed and pulled it forward. Forty men pulled the ropes. Ten more ran back and forth, rolling each log to the front again, over and over. The stone slid forward on sled runners. They had done this for many miles.
"That stone will stand in the pit here," Hertio said. "Next to the one where you killed a man."
"A strange kind of honor," Kavio said.
"We never moved his skull. It's still crushed under the stone."
"It could have been my skull."
Hertio said nothing. At least he had the sense to stay quiet.
Kavio looked into the pit. He knew the threads of magic released that day still lived on this hill. All morning, he had tried not to step on them. But now, they wrapped around him like snakes. Their bite brought not just pain—but Vision. A flash of the past, sharp and cruel.
He wanted to scream. But only a broken sound came out of his mouth before he fell forward, into the pit.