15th day of the 3rd month 650th year of the 8th era

Araki stood in the middle of the tribe’s tents and waited as the tribe gathered around him. The sun stood high in the sky and a warm breeze stirred his garments as it worked its way through the camp.

“I called you all here to discuss our movements,” Drice declared. People began to gather around them.

“You called the meeting to distract us from your bad claim,” a heckler called from the assembled people.

A general rumble rippled through the assembled men, heads turning to whisper to their neighbour. Araki turned and faced the gathered men sitting in a circle around a small pit. Behind them stood the women of the tribe.

“This man made us ride for two days and two nights for no reason at all,” Drice continued jabbing a finger at Araki.

“On the morning I started the march I was informed of another tribe following us,” Araki responded

“Who was it?” called a young man.

“He claimed it was tribe Linjah,” Drice mocked.

The men and women started talking in low murmurs.

“Do you have any proof?” Yalla called.

A man stood up in the middle of the crowd. “I spoke to him.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“In the early morning hours of the morning two days ago, I went to his tent and woke him. I took him to the edge of camp and showed him the tribe on the horizon.”

“Why did you go to him?” Drice asked. “He is not the chief.”

“He was adopted into the family of the old chief.” The man sat down.

“Are you upset I made the call? Or upset I was contacted?” Araki mocked.

A ripple of laughter ran through the assembled tribe.

“He shouldn’t have gone to you,” Yalla stated, standing.

The man sat down with a shrug.

“You have not been approved as the head of your uncle’s family,” Yalla called

“Is that what you are complaining about?” Araki asked. “I know I am a stranger; I am just doing what I thought was best. The last time I stood before you, you were worried about outsiders influencing the elections, and when I moved us away from another tribe, you complain.”

“We let you have the vote because we needed the deciding vote,” Jungurrur called out.

“Why not vote now?” Araki called.

The crowd called in agreement.

Drice raised his hands to quieten the tribe. “We do need a chief to prevent this from happening again.”

“What? An intelligent young man looking out for the welfare of his family, making calls you don’t agree with?” shouted Nanberry.

The crowd laughed.

“Who are the nominees?” Drice asked.

“I stand,” Yalla declared, standing.

“I stand,” Bunyan declared, standing.

“I stand,” Drice declared.

“I stand,” Jungurrur declared, standing.

The men got up and broke into four distinct group of equal sizes. Ten men stood for each contender. Araki remained in place. Once the men had arranged themselves behind their chosen contender, they sat down. Two older women came out and counted heads and then declared the results a four-way draw, and then sat down.

“I could cast my vote, but I don’t think that it would make any difference,” Araki stated.

“You have not been confirmed and do not have a vote,” Drice snapped.

Araki remained silent and clenched his teeth.

“He has a family and has acted like a family head,” Yalla counted. “I think we should confirm him.”

“He doesn’t know our ways,” Drice countered.

“He can be taught,” Jungurrur suggested.

“Some new blood in the tribe would be a good thing,” mused Bunyan.

“Any confirmation needs to be a majority vote,” Drice objected.

“Let us vote on it now,” called a man from Yalla’s camp.

“All in favour of confirming this man into our tribe?” Bunyan called.

Hands shot up and the two old women went about counting.

“Thirty-six in favour.”

“Congratulations,” Yalla said to Araki.

“That still doesn’t solve our problem,” Drice complained. “With him, we need twenty-two votes to confirm a chieftain.”

“He is right,” Yalla said.

“Even if he does vote, all it does is give a lead to one contender,” Jungurrur said.

“We need another way to choose a new chieftain,” Araki offered.

Then women and children started to move back to their tents.

“We do have the Oath rod,” a man suggested from Jungurrur’s supporters.

“The Oath rod hasn’t been used in nearly a century,” Drice stated. “The clan vote has been effective for selecting a new clan chief until now.”

“The only other way is to reduce the number of contenders,” Araki offered. “Anyone want to step down?”

A moment of silence followed as each contender looked at each other.

“Please fetch the Oath rod,” Araki smiled.

A man in black got up and dashed away from the centre of the tribe.

“We need to set up the meeting tent,” Drice stated.

“Why?” Araki asked.

“The Oath rod glows when it encounters the best candidate,” Jungurrur explained.

“How does it do that?” Araki asked.

Jungurrur shrugged, and the man returned with a large wooden box. He presented it to Araki.

The wooden box was covered in an ornate pattern and made from a deep brown wood.

Araki took the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a green felt cover, with a slight indentation.

“It’s empty,” Araki declared.

“What?” Yalla cried.

Araki rotated the box around and presented the empty contents to the assembled men. A woman rushed into the centre of the men; her robes black. She carried a horn bow in one hand and a sheaf of arrows in a pouch in front of her.

“A green pennant has been spotted on the horizon.”

“Clan Linjah,” exclaimed several men.

Aquillia appeared behind Araki and handed him his sword and belt, her own double-bladed sword strapped onto her back. Araki took the sword and belted it on.

“Show us,” he commanded.

The woman turned and walked swiftly back the way she had arrived followed by Araki and Aquillia, then the whole tribe. The woman took them to the western edge of the camp and pointed. In the far west on the horizon a faint green pennant could be seen fluttering in the slight breeze. Araki turned to the assembled men.

“Last time I ordered the clan march for two days and two nights and they still managed to follow us.”

“We should fight them,” a man called from the crowd.

“That is the decision only the chieftain can make,” Drice suggested.

“We don’t have a chieftain,” Yalla counted. “Unless you are saying that you are the new chieftain.”

A moment of silence followed as everyone turned to look at Drice.

“We need to move again,” Jungurrur offered, breaking the mounting tension.

“We need to work out what happened to the Oath rod,” Bunyan said.

“I bet they stole it from us,” Drice scowled.

“Can we stay put and just keep an eye on them?” Araki asked.

“We should wait and see what they do,” Jungurrur agreed.

“What if they attack?” Drice offered.

“How many places could they go if they kept travelling in this direction?” Araki asked.

“The mountains contain many good spots to shelter, places that the tribe could hold down in,” Drice offered.

“Could they be headed to a place in the mountains? Or at the foot of the mountain? And we just happen to be going in the same direction?” Araki asked.

“Then why did they stop?” Bunyan offered. “They are meant to keep a certain distance from another clan.”

“They might not want to interfere with us?” Araki offered. “They are keeping their distance.”

“It is possible,” Jungurrur admitted, stroking his bearded face.

“Keep a watch on them and let us work out what happened to the Oath rod,” Araki stated.

Everyone nodded and started to file back into the camp. When Araki returned to the centre of the camp, the men of the tribe didn’t follow, instead breaking into groups and then dispersing into their own tents.

“What happened?” Araki asked, turning to Aquillia.

“I guess the meeting is over,” she offered, shrugging.

“Good. I want to cool off.” Araki walked back into his tent and held the flap open as Aquillia stepped in behind him. He dropped the tent flap, unbuckled the sword belt and disrobed.

“Your just in time,” Nanberry called from out the back.

Aquillia pulled off her robes. Araki placed his boots at the entrance and stepped into the sitting space. The back of the tent was propped open. Stella and Nanberry sat outside in the shade of the tent flap as the children handed bowls around. Araki smiled at his small family.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Stella said.

“I didn’t expect they would confirm me as head of the house,” Araki stated. “I didn’t even know that it was a thing I needed.”

“Sorry,” Nanberry smiled. “I knew it would happen; I didn’t think it worth mentioning.”

“Why?” Araki asked.

Nanberry shrugged. “It is merely a formality.”

Lammy handed a bowl of hot stew to Araki.

He sat down and began to eat. “Are there any more formalities I need to know about?”

“No,” Nanberry said.

“Did you know about the Oath rod?” Araki asked as he fed food into his mouth.

“Yeah, what about it?” Nanberry asked passing out another bowl of stew.

“It has gone missing,” Araki said after swallowing his food, the hot sauce burning down his throat.

Nanberry’s eyes widened before furrowing.

“What is the Oath rod?” Aquillia asked.

“The Oath rod is part of the ceremony for the new chief,” Nanberry said.

“What does it do?” Stella asked.

“It glows when the chief touches it,” Araki explained.

“That is special,” Aquillia commented.

“It was passed down from generation to generation,” Nanberry said. “I have never seen it glow.”

“Is it just ceremonial?” Araki asked.

“The legends around it say that with it in hand you can’t tell a lie,” Nanberry said.

Aquillia frowned. “That is most interesting. Araki, your father found the Belt of Veritas that was also rumoured to be able help you tell if someone was lying.”

“Why would there be two objects that can do the same thing?” Araki asked.

“It’s not the same, not being able to tell a lie and knowing when someone was lying are different,” Nanberry said.

“True,” agreed Araki. “There are two items dealing with truth.”

“One gives insight to the truth and the other forces you to tell the truth,” Aquillia muttered.

Araki sighed.

***

Araki lay on his back, as Stella and Aquillia lay on each side of him. The tent flap remained open, the flickering light of the dying cookfire casting shadows on the roof of the tent.

I could use some help.

What help do you need? The baritone voice responded.

The Oath rod, do you know it? Araki thought forming the words into the front of his mind.

It has nothing to do with us, the bass voice replied. Though one of us is close.

One of you? How many are there?

Is he ready? the baritone asked.

I think he is, the bass assented. He is talking to us, he is strong.

You said you would guide me.

We will, boy, the baritone soothed. We have nothing to offer you.

Are you disturbing my dream?

They are flashes of what could be, the baritone explained.

Why do I have them?

You were not meant to have them, the baritone apologised. The order has been broken; the sword was not meant to be first. It didn’t happen in this order the last seven times.

This has happened before.

You fool! the bass voice shouted. They are not meant to know about the other times.

Which one was meant to be first?

Now he knows, the baritone said.

Fine, the bass said resignedly.

The last times the helmet or the boots are first. They give the wearer strength to deal with us, the baritone explained

What do you mean? Araki asked.

Corvictus and I draw a lot of our strength from the wielder, the bass voice explained.

You have names? Araki gulped.

Yes, I am Veritas and the grumpy one is Corvictus. Normally the wielder acquires us last or just before last; the others give us our strength as without them we must draw power from you. Corvictus said.

Where are the others? Araki said.

There is one near. Veritas said his tone soft and barely a whisper.

The rod? Araki asked.

No. Veritas said.

Who is near? Corvictus asked.

Decius. Veritas said, the last word fading out both voices from Araki’s mind.