ALARS MOVE TOWARDS TREVE
By Willow Jenipe
Story told by Jaym Wolfhunter
The Alars have come down from their mountain home, following their bosk, and have settled in Boswell Pass, gateway to the Barrens, near Treve. An Alar spokesman said that they "did not pick the move. The bosk did. We simply ensure that they are well fed."
"We are famed tellers of stories...all of them true mind you...though, one in particular drives the formation of this Laager," the Alar chieftain said calmly when I visited their laager.
"I am rumored to be called Jaym," he began in a low tone...not quite full throated speech...and not quite a whisper...that middle ground that was like fog in the air. "Said by some to be the Chieftain of the Alar... also rumored to be a story teller of some great stature... a poet unequalled... and a keen negotiator.
"Many years ago... the Bosk of the Alar were followed by My People... the leader of which was Thenarix....it is not widely known that the Alar do not always travel together... but oft times the herds are divided, that they might find easier pastures.
"Our fraction was a large one, two full rings of wagons comprised the Laager of the Southern Alar...and inside was enough room to practice at full speed the maneuvers of cavalry upon the field...for if it is not known...the Alar are the greatest of cavalrymen upon Gor... too, the saddle tharlarion is the greatest of beasts upon Gor.... be that held as truth... the story continues.
"The bosk roamed, the Alar followed as is the way... rarely are the bosk actually herded except perhaps that they might remain a loose gathering, until upon the horizon there was spied the walls of a city.
"We had never been there... and upon the bench of the wagon... riding along with My father... I saw the walls of Torcadino. I recall vividly the shouts that went out from the outriders... a one word cry that rang out from all points of the compass... "City" they cried... and the horn that hangs on the saddle of every Alar was blown... the dust raised in a cloud that could assuredly be seen from many pasangs away as they rode in rough circles ever inward... bringing the bosk close to the wagons... all the while, the wagons were forming the tight circle that was the posture taken when the outcome of such meetings were unknown.
"When finally the wagons were drawn in a tight knit circle, called a Laager, the Outriders came to the center of the Laager and waited. I will never forget, as a child is wont to remember, the flap of the Chief being opened, and Him stepping from the Wagon onto the Ground.
"ALAR!!!!" He cried and a roar rang out that shook the Sardar. My eyes were like two white platters as they bulged at the fury that burned in My blood even then. "Riders of the Alar, the city before us - is called Torcadino... it sits upon the crossroads of Gor... and is ripe with what We might need... Then again... we might not," he said as the gathered Riders chuckled amongst themselves. The Chief slowly turned...then paused and said in a voice that was as full of malice and power...as any I have ever heard...."form up....." was all He said.
"The Chief, who was called Thenarix, then moved to His tharlarion and stepped upon the stirrup and climbed upon the saddle as One who has done so many times before. He paused, and I stared...it was glorious I tell you, glorious.
"My father then stood... and said nothing... just tussled My hair... and looked at Me an ihn... before moving to the back of the wagon and unleashed the tharlarion that was tethered there. When next I saw Him, He was upon the tharlarion’s back, the lance couched in its holder at his right boot. He paused a moment, and said to Me, "Care for Your Mother boy...Tend to the Bosk...the Bosk will live..." then He rode off...the plume of dust adding to the gathered cloud that already stung My eyes...for they were watering greatly.
"The Outriders of the Alar formed into their flights... and the flights into their loosely formed companies, and the wagons parted... so that the city of Torcodino was in full view... the Chief Thenarix raised the carved horn that hung upon His saddle...and blew a long low note...one that brings a tremor to My bones even to this day...and the Group that was Alar, much larger than the contingent of this laager...began to move.
"Slowly the Alar upon the saddle tharlarion began to gain speed...and the pots and pans that hung inside our wagon began to shake...striking each other with each light blows...the tharlarion gained speed...and the earth shook more...the dust rose...and I lost sight of the Alar that rode to take what they wished....for that is the way of My people...I remember hearing a soft sobbing...muffled...and turning to see My mother busy at mending a shirt of My father's...though I could not see her face...I knew that she was crying...roars were heard in the distance...and the faint clink of steel on steel could be heard as well...the battle must have begun...I did not know until that point...that the coming of the Alar...was already known to the People and the Ubar of Torcadino.
"It was then, that I heard a flurry of screams cry out from in and around the Camp... and strange Men, in bright red tunics and cloaks rode through the Camp on kailla... their swords dripped with blood... and the cries of children could be heard as well... I clambered into the back of the wagon without thought and took from its sheath the sacramasax of My father. The Alar are well versed in the use of such weapons, even as children. It was the only game We played.
"I leapt from the back of the wagon... and thought Myself Alar Outrider as I stood steady... a warrior of Torcodino bore down on Me from kailla back... with no more than a glance.. .the Man struck Me on the side of My head with the flat of His sword.
"I woke bound... My eyes... blurry... and I could not remember what happened after that for some time... .later however I learned bits and pieces.... gathered as I grew... for I was brought far and given to a family to raise.
"I spent My formative years in the care of a Man named Navarre in the Mountainous City of Thentis. The Ubar of Torcodino knew how important the Children of the Alar were and so, before the Southern Alar arrived despatched warriors so that once the Men of the Alar were in pitched battle the Children could be taken.
"I am a Man now and have plied My trade far across Gor, learned from some, taught others, I have been of the Scarlet Caste, I have been a slaver. I have sat long ahn contemplating movements of Kaissa with Men much smarter than I, those things though made Me who I am, too, they showed Me what I must do...for now...I gather the Lost Children...of the Alar"
He sunk His head into His hands for He was tired, then dragged His fingertips through His hair. He looked up, his eyes bleary.
"And that... is the Story."
"That, is one of our tales," he concluded. "They are many and each more amazing than the last."
"So when you speak of the Alar... know that amongst them no weakness is harbored...Men hard live here...Women solid...and slaves...those that survive the wrath of our women...are the finest on Gor - for if they are not...they are sleen food".
"I wish you well enough... Willow of Lake Ngao," he said, turning away. "You will pardon Me. Work... continues."
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