Amari!
A myth. A story.
Gundar held the old man’s hands. Feeling respect. Feeling for the injuries the frail old man had taken. And suspecting a fever had seized hold of the old man’s brain.
“It was Amaris. I should know, I was their slave”.
Slave to a myth. Slave to a people that did not exist! The thought was still flashing through Gundar’s head when the old man turned on him.
“Mock me at your peril, you fool!” he cried.
Gundar squeezed his hand.
“Relax, old man. I believe you. Just rest”.
“Rest, you stupid young puppy!”
Gundar smiled benevolently at the old man who had been attacked by the strangers Gundar had been trying to track down. With Gundar’s shape and age, “puppy” was hardly the word. But the man would not let go.
“Rest?”
Gundar tried to stop him but the old man shrugged off his hand and struggled tottering to his feet. Angrily he gestured away Gundar’s offering arm.
“Rest?” The old man shook his head in frustration.
“You’ll spend the rest of your life in chains if I rest!”
Gundar smiled kindly.
The old man glared back in frustration. For all his size Gundar was like every young fool! They always knew better!
The old man had been right. Unsuspecting Gundar had walked straight in the trap. He had never believed this kingdom existed. He knew of those Amaris as just as story. But everything the old man had told him about them was turning out to be true. Yet Gundar had dismissed the story of the Amaris as some legend the old folks told. A myth of the legendary city of Amari. A place of subjugation and cruelty. The kind of story about savage marauding warriors you frightened children with when they didn’t behave.
But then in that case it was a myth that had put Gundar in bonds. In chains, - just as the old man had warned. Prophetic words. After three days of being marched away into their captivity Gundar was fully convinced. Warriors of Amari had come for him, they’d brought the battle to him. Well-prepared, well-armed, sending their best after him by the look of these warriors. There was a strong streak of cruelty in them, too, in these men who had mockingly shoved and jostled at him these last three days.. Just as the old man had warned. Hands trapped behind his head for the last three days, unfed, barely watered, toyed with, mocked. His hands caught up behind in the collar that they’d forced on him, beaten and abused at every chance, Gundar now stared in amazement at this mythical city. He stood in the shadow of this incredible citadel to which his captors had brought him. Him and him alone. This had been no raiding party. They had not come to take slaves. They had come for only him. He stood in bonds before this fabled city, ogled by onlookers. They had come for him. They wanted him. Him and only him. For what? He shivered in realisation that the legend of the cruel Amari had set out to take Gundar captive. For what?
“Rest?” Gundar had said coaxingly.
The old man had uttered in disbelief at this scepticism.
“You’ll spend the rest of your life in chains if I rest!”
A myth. A story.
Gundar held the old man’s hands. Feeling respect. Feeling for the injuries the frail old man had taken. And suspecting a fever had seized hold of the old man’s brain.
“It was Amaris. I should know, I was their slave”.
Slave to a myth. Slave to a people that did not exist! The thought was still flashing through Gundar’s head when the old man turned on him.
“Mock me at your peril, you fool!” he cried.
Gundar squeezed his hand.
“Relax, old man. I believe you. Just rest”.
“Rest, you stupid young puppy!”
Gundar smiled benevolently at the old man who had been attacked by the strangers Gundar had been trying to track down. With Gundar’s shape and age, “puppy” was hardly the word. But the man would not let go.
“Rest?”
Gundar tried to stop him but the old man shrugged off his hand and struggled tottering to his feet. Angrily he gestured away Gundar’s offering arm.
“Rest?” The old man shook his head in frustration.
“You’ll spend the rest of your life in chains if I rest!”
Gundar smiled kindly.
The old man glared back in frustration. For all his size Gundar was like every young fool! They always knew better!
The old man had been right. Unsuspecting Gundar had walked straight in the trap. He had never believed this kingdom existed. He knew of those Amaris as just as story. But everything the old man had told him about them was turning out to be true. Yet Gundar had dismissed the story of the Amaris as some legend the old folks told. A myth of the legendary city of Amari. A place of subjugation and cruelty. The kind of story about savage marauding warriors you frightened children with when they didn’t behave.
But then in that case it was a myth that had put Gundar in bonds. In chains, - just as the old man had warned. Prophetic words. After three days of being marched away into their captivity Gundar was fully convinced. Warriors of Amari had come for him, they’d brought the battle to him. Well-prepared, well-armed, sending their best after him by the look of these warriors. There was a strong streak of cruelty in them, too, in these men who had mockingly shoved and jostled at him these last three days.. Just as the old man had warned. Hands trapped behind his head for the last three days, unfed, barely watered, toyed with, mocked. His hands caught up behind in the collar that they’d forced on him, beaten and abused at every chance, Gundar now stared in amazement at this mythical city. He stood in the shadow of this incredible citadel to which his captors had brought him. Him and him alone. This had been no raiding party. They had not come to take slaves. They had come for only him. He stood in bonds before this fabled city, ogled by onlookers. They had come for him. They wanted him. Him and only him. For what? He shivered in realisation that the legend of the cruel Amari had set out to take Gundar captive. For what?
“Rest?” Gundar had said coaxingly.
The old man had uttered in disbelief at this scepticism.
“You’ll spend the rest of your life in chains if I rest!”
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