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Slave Boats of Kresh
Tomes of Amaxathroth > Ink, Blood and Parchment |
Read well, you rare lettered sage: in Kresh, the wise seek death before slavery. Eat jungri root that grows beneath every tree, or fall upon the spears of Kreshi - who think themselves marked by a God and greater than all for their twelve fingers. Either fate will gladly take you, and this pestilent realm will be unburdened of your fear.
Black Spear Kreshi herd slaves upon the glass rock beaches, where the ugly jungles dip roots into the salt tides. You are well to avoid encampments by the screams that rise at night; a screaming slave is healthy for the next day. Silent ones, half-taken by death demons already, are amusement for thick-limbed Kreshi. The remains are left each morning for circling vagra and the stealthy yellow vine.
At the wide Nal river delta, the Kreshi mass their slaves to cross. Rare sage, I have sat amidst the fallen pillars of a city whose name is long forgotten, there to watch Kreshi bind and lash slaves into the form of boats for the crossing. The favored who scream loudest are set above the water, whilst the unlucky must learn to breath well through thick reeds.
I, too, sought a way across the Nal in that year - but the great and scaly krevakiles suffer neither raft nor swimmer. I have not sought to test my curse while rotted in pieces upon the inside of a water beast. I doubt not the power of the Demon-King, but doubt the nature of a krevakile's belly the less. So, rare sage, I came before the Kreshi with the sign of the Demon-King in my eyes and ten black ebon stones about my neck - and they were both greedy and fearful, for the Kreshi are weak amongst men.
The offal of slaves mixes quickly with blood in the fleshy sumps of Kreshi slave boats; the slaves who form the deck and prow implore, maddened by torment. The Kreshi laugh long - and reach for needles and hot coals to while away the hours afloat upon slave bodies.
Weak are Kreshi, but they know the way of the krevakile, as the same eyes are found in both faces. No more than ten slaves and twice as many limbs were torn away and consumed upon this crossing. The Kreshi thought that a good and great sign, and I a creature of luck, or sorceror in thrall to ebon stones. They plotted in their bestial way, as they pulled apart the dead and the living upon the swampy shore, but I had long left for the falling dusk and jungle trails.
Oh rare and lettered sage, choose the krevakile in my place, for the Kreshi will not treat you so kindly.
[ Posted by Reason on October 19, 2006 ]
