Vlad was full-bearded with a thick mane of blond hair, bronzed skin, and intense-looking eyes with granite hardness.
He looked on, reviewing the men sprinting two by two straight up a steep incline of about a hundred and fifty yards long to a ridge at the top. Then, they would pant and jog along the ridge for about twenty yards before coming down a return path to the bottom and lining up to go again. There were other seasoned-looking men along the course shouting and giving instructions, sometimes full of praise but more often ridicule.
Vlad was the leader of Victory nation, which was the strongest and most established nomadic tribe in the region with vast lands and a long history and culture. Vlad had ascended to the helm five years earlier, which was traditionally determined using a process of selection by the tribal council. Tribal councils had historically steered away appointing sons of then-current leaders to the position as a way of maintaining an egalitarian society in which everyone was equal or at least had equal opportunities according to their abilities.
Vlad was the only exception whom anyone could recall.
When his father suddenly lost his ability to run and abdicated calling for the council to name a successor, Vlad was named the new leader. Even an able and intelligent son had always been shunned so as to maintain the principle of egalitarianism. But Vlad was the exception: the brilliant young hunter and survivalist as a boy, the superior athlete with unlimited stamina and grit as a teenager, and the innovative and capable young man who was admitted to the council at the young age of twenty-eight was the clear future leader of Victory.
The men training today would climb two abreast, but they were not paired together in any way. Most of the men were in their late teens and early twenties, and they were on their own, competing to earn a spot in a special competition, which was the first-ever competition with athletes from Eden. “Vlad, do you want to see more? I think these guys are almost finished,” queried Gabon, Vlad’s head of athletics.
“I see some contests still playing out. A few more rounds. Watch Zak and Davan, and tell me who hangs on the longest,” Vlad commanded. “That’s all for me today. I want all the guys at my place for dinner. No family … just the competitors.”
“Leader!” Gabon spouted as he banged his chest with his right fist, holding the position for just a second in salute.
Vlad then ventured over to a nearby training area that had been set up for targeting. There were three targeting sports, all of which were of very practical importance: knife throwing, spear throwing, and archery. At this moment, the women were training. While the women athletes were on average slower in sports such as running and swimming, in targeting events, they were well matched, with the exception of the long spear throw.
But in the short spear throw, archery, and knives, the men and women all competed head to head, which made these sports very popular.
The women trained separately, which gave rise to a sense of team spirit. Vlad made small talk with the coach, Diana, discussing a few of the star athletes. The women also aspired to go to Eden and compete in not only targeting but also running and swimming. But, so far, the invitation had been limited to the men. Vlad reassured Diana that it was only an experiment … a single event that was politically motivated. He asked for her patience.
Vlad then took his leave, flanked by two assistants who also doubled as bodyguards. Not that he needed to be guarded, but it was tradition for the leader to always be accompanied by multiple military personnel who were fast runners so that they could quickly dispatch information related to security or other safety threats. Victory had honed these protocols over generations, and this was their advantage over other nomadic tribes that would aspire to encroach on their resources.
Like other tribes in their region, the Victory nation was nomadic, but only within a certain range. This had to do with herd migrations, which supplied much of their sustenance. In the winter months, the Victorians would follow herds south and down slope to the desert plain, which was less abundant but milder. It was an annual movement of nearly all of the Victory nation, with the exception of a formidable military detachment that would brave the winter and protect their fixed assets, which included many well-built structures, an irrigation system, and stores of seed that were used in spring planting. Early in the spring, farmers would head north a month ahead of the tribe to do the early sewing of root crops, comprising mainly potatoes.
In the distant past, the various tribes had been further separated and less populated, and Victory hadn’t needed to guard its summer lands in the winter nor its southern winter refuge in the summer. But after a certain time, during the early childhood of Vlad’s father, Nathan, there had been vagrant nomads or even parts of whole nations that had come and settled in Victory’s accommodations during the off-season.
After suffering through the struggle of displacing these interlopers year after year, with the bulk of the nation’s people waiting miles away in limbo, Victory’s council had decided that a permanent military presence would be needed, as the job would only become more difficult as time went on. What made it even more essential was the rise in importance of their agriculture, which made it especially critical to secure their northern fertile lands and seed stocks, which would be taken as food by all the passersby.
This caused separation among the people, but the military postings were rotated to keep families together most of the time. The annual migration was a long journey of about two hundred miles along a high, open plain before the final descent into a protected desert basin, where there was a sizable lake. The herds accumulated on one side of the lake, which was open to the dry plains that had grazing plants for miles. These plants were not the favored delicacies of the higher elevations during spring and summer, but they were a reliable food source for the elk and caribou.
Vlad stepped with purpose and authority across the village toward the meeting hall, which he had designed and constructed several years earlier as part of the permanent settlement in the southern winter retreat. The hall was the largest building that they had ever undertaken. It was large, single story, and had two smaller rooms in the back. It could accommodate audiences of up to eight hundred, and there were benches to seat about half that many people. The remainder would sit on the floor or stand in the back and along the sides. There was an elevated stage in the front to allow spectators a clear view of the entertainment or speaker.
The larger of the two smaller rooms in the back was the council chamber. In the north, there was a great cave that served this purpose in addition to being the leader’s residence; however, the south had no such facility, and Vlad was greatly admired for his accomplishment.
The smaller of the two rooms was Vlad’s residence and would be used to house any future leaders. The hall was impressive despite its simplicity, because the challenge had been mainly one of acquiring and transporting the building materials from the north. Primarily as a result of this scarcity, it had taken nearly two years to accomplish.
Even in the north, trees were not overly abundant, and Vlad faced some degree of resistance as a result. But the breakthrough came when he applied his wits to find a new purpose for their surplus of potatoes. Far to the north, the Eagle Nation was abundant in trees and, thus, wood for construction.
They were not a large nation, as they had little in the way of food resources, except for deer, squirrels, and fish, along with acorns and other limited sources of starchy foods.
Because their lands were heavily forested, uneven, and rocky, there were few prospects for successful agriculture. They had limited success with apples, the output of which went almost entirely toward making applejack, which was their main export.
Vlad’s father, Nathan, had established a trade pattern with the Eagles that mainly involved exchanging applejack for jerky. But the Eagles already had sufficient amounts of jerky for themselves, and caribou from Victory was strictly a luxury item, as was the applejack that they supplied in kind.
This all changed when the Victory nation started to hit its stride when it came to potato yields, which was one reason for Vlad’s ascension. He had convinced his father that the potato was the key to many things, as it was such a fine food source. Its cultivation went back to Ramius, and it had transformed Victory into a self-sustaining nation that took it a step beyond that of hunter–gatherers.
Vlad expanded potato farming dramatically and developed preservation methods, such as drying, pickling, and fresh storage underground, which would preserve potatoes for a few months. Vlad not only managed to trade for timber, but it came milled and cut, along with a design and some carpenters on loan to help construct the building.
As a matter of security, the Eagles were very wary of outsiders seeing their fortifications and living arrangements; thus, they also hauled the timber about fifty miles out of the hills and into the plains near Victory’s northern quarters. This same muscle hauled back many tons of potatoes, which gave the Eagles some winters to remember. It also instilled in them a craving for such a commodity and secure way of life, which would later create new headaches for Vlad.
Also wary of giving away its knowledge, Victory allowed only a small number of Eagles in to help. It was a tradeoff that incited much controversy and fear among Victory’s council and beyond. Vlad convinced them that Victory’s size and military might would deter any ideas and that their fears were unfounded. But there was no doubt that a primary mission of the Eagle carpenters had been to gather intelligence.
However, Vlad realized that such intelligence was futile, as abundance was a function of the place. Their mighty river, its fertile silt basin, and its surrounding watersheds, along with the unfettered sunlight, were the keys to this abundance. As long as Victory held this region and maintained its formidable military of elite athletes, no other nations could threaten it.
Because trading wood for potatoes was mutually beneficial, the relationship continued, and there was general goodwill between the leaders and the military commanders on both sides. However, word had just come via the daily runner that some men had been captured around the potato fields.
Planting had just begun, so there had been nothing to take; yet, their interest had clearly been in understanding where potatoes came from and what the seed stock looked like. The men had been found with many seed potatoes that they had dug up in the fields. Of the group of ten men dressed as vagrant nomads, they had managed to capture six.
After some rough handling and individual interrogation, one of the weaker men had revealed that they were from Eagle and had been trying to look vagrant. Vlad had just heard and was now furious. It reflected badly on him, of course, and he knew that some of his critics were having a field day, their enjoyment rising in concert with his own blood pressure.
“Leader,” the council said in perfect unison, fist to chest, as Vlad stormed in. Philip, Vlad’s chief rival, had an unabashed look of amusement, as did his cohort of several others, who were sitting together on the left side of the table.
“Let’s hear the details,” stated Vlad sternly as he sat, joined by the other twenty council members and five military commanders.
“The Eagles attempted to make off with large numbers of seed potatoes that they dug out only a day after they were planted.”
“That means they were watching the whole process,”
Philip interrupted.
“Let him finish,” snapped Vlad, holding his hand up toward Philip but never breaking his gaze with the runner.
“Each man had about twenty stuffed in bags made of hide, so we can expect that the four or so men that got away have maybe eighty to one hundred seeds with them,” the runner continued. “We beat it out of them that they came from Eagle, but they are in fine condition, being held and looked after.”
The council members knew that Victory’s winter garrison of four hundred men was double the size of Eagle’s entire army, and because they were not a running nation but hunted more by surprise using bows, they could never threaten Victory on the open prairie. But these facts didn’t seem to stop the politically minded.
“They will plant and grow their own in no time, and then, we will lose all the wood and ah, well, ah … the applejack,” bumbled one of Philip’s henchman, known as Fatty, which was a joke since he was blade thin, emaciated due to his life-long running addiction, which far outmatched his appetite.
There was a chuckle throughout the room.
“Listen you all,” Vlad started. “If they could grow potatoes on their lands, they would have done it already. You leave a potato too long, and the roots come pouring out of it. It doesn’t take a genius to know that you should stick it in the ground so it will grow. They think maybe they are failing to grow them because there is something different that we plant. The Eagles are experts at farming certain trees, like apples and timber. I’m sure they know what they’re doing when it comes to growing things. I bet their land can and will support some potatoes, if they find the right places.”
“Well, we don’t want to help them put us out of the potato business, do we?” Philip chimed in. “What do you plan to do in response to this act of aggression?”
Vlad spoke to the runner directly. “Write this response to go with the next runner. Hold the six men until our return.
Treat them well. Be on the lookout, and heighten the alert.”
Vlad nodded at the scribe and the runner, and they briskly exited. “I will go to see Horus shortly after our return.” Horus was the leader of the Eagle nation. “We will return the men safely and have a frank discussion about what’s happened here.”
“That’s it?” queried an incensed Philip. “A discussion?
This is our livelihood, man! We need to come down hard on them so it never happens again!”
“Harder than we would toward our own criminals?” replied Vlad. “Their men will already be facing uncertainty in captivity for the next forty-five days. The Eagle leadership will be gnawing at themselves wondering what will happen. Let me tell you all something you don’t know.” Vlad paused briefly.
“Our soldiers went and got their apples … in secret.”
There was a collective gasp, tempered only by Fatty’s sigh of relief. All were silent, waiting for Vlad’s explanation.
“The trees were planted already last year. In ten years, the Eagles will be out of the applejack business, because I’m sure we will have the best apples anyone ever saw.” Some people laughed, while some moaned.
Looking incredulous, Philip started. “You didn’t think it wise to tell the council this before? Does Horus know about it?
Is this retaliation?”
“Maybe … maybe not. It doesn’t change anything. We need to smooth things over with Eagle. I take responsibility, and Horus will be made to account for his poor judgement, assuming he is unaware of the apples, of course.”
“I think you are taking this too lightly,” Philip challenged.
“Stop making a big deal out of it,” another council member added. A group of others murmured their concurrence.
Philip sat back pouting and feeling defeated. Fatty was smiling until he sensed that Philip had turned toward him, at which point he immediately revised his expression to one of grim disapproval.
The runner and the scribe walked into a large tent with soldiers and officers milling about, working, and chatting. This was the main military command center. There were three lean specimens, military runners, sitting at one end of the tent eating potatoes, beans, and chia seeds, along with some lean jerky.
When they saw their colleague, the runner who had come in hours earlier, they sat up and smiled. The running corps members were all close friends who had grown up and trained together since childhood.
“Donny, where you been, man?” asked one of the seated runners.
“Guys, how’s it going?” Donny smiled quickly, pressed to conclude his business and start his much-needed R&R with his family. The team grunted and affirmed their readiness and attention. “Here is all the mail from the council, including the orders regarding the prisoners,” the scribe explained.
“What prisoners?” These runners were just coming off R&R, with fresh legs, and were not aware of the situation.
The scribe went on. “Six prisoners from Eagle were captured stealing potato seeds.”
“No shit?” one of the runners exclaimed. The others gave nervous chuckles of the kind that signified that something bad was about to happen.
“Here is the rest of the mail.” He handed over a large bag.
The runners always traveled in threes. They pulled out their own satchels and started dividing up the letters. Those from private citizens that were personal were simply divided three ways and stowed. The council and military orders were in a separate, smaller satchel that was passed between the runners at five-mile intervals to even up the workload.
Besides the mail, the men had to carry all of their food and most of their water, as there were very few such sources along the shortest route. More importantly, there was no time to stop.
Apart from the mail and their provisions, the runners carried formidable knives. They were well trained in the use of their knives for both hunting and self-defense. For the military and council mail, all three runners would read and memorize all of it, and they were sworn to secrecy. Because only one runner at a time carried these communiqués, if something befell that one runner, the other two still had the information memorized and could carry on. It was rare, but sometimes, there were sealed orders, and they were normally made in triplicate so that each runner carried one copy.
This team of runners had a special name, as did each of the twenty teams that made up this elite running corps. Their name was Mongoose, and they were adorned with a special tattoo that would be a source of pride for as long as they lived.
The commanders tried to keep these teams together for four years, and they earned their tattoos only after a full oneyear rotation, in which they proved their capabilities and their desire to remain paired with the other two runners in their squad.
During certain times, they would have to take a “newbie,” which was a new runner in training. Once a newbie was deemed ready, he was paired with two other newbies to form a new team. This new team would be headed by a coach, who was normally a recently retired runner, and he would accompany the new team for about one month, at the end of which the team would be a well-oiled machine that was ready to operate on its own.
The coach also monitored the team dynamics and either resolved interpersonal conflicts or, in some cases, suggested a reshuffle of personnel.
Teams like these were the basis of the most lasting friendships in the entire culture of Victory, as well as the friendships with members of the other squads. Women had also entered the picture and made up about a quarter of the running corps, having proven their worth in terms of endurance and speed.
Mongoose was to leave late morning, which was fast approaching. They would climb over two thousand feet during the fifty-mile leg of the journey north; this was one of four legs required to reach the Victory summer camp. This first leg was the toughest because of the climbing and the trail conditions, so it was always done in full daylight.
Teams coming south would have to negotiate this trail at night and arrive before midnight. Each of the four legs would take between six and eight hours, depending on the weather and, to some extent, the team involved.
As the council, including Vlad, spilled out of the Great Hall building following the conclusion of their meeting, they all took note of the three military runners of Mongoose, who were hammering northward toward the trail head. With wellnourished bodies feeling rested and light, they glided along these flats, clocking six-minute miles, while talking and laughing occasionally.
The road exiting the camp was wide, and for the few miles leading up to the trail, they ran three abreast and nearly in perfect lockstep. When they hit the trail fifteen minutes later, they broke into single file and began the climb. They would tackle thirty miles of rolling foothills that required never-ending climbs, followed by descents, but mostly climbs, as they continued their relentless pursuit of elevation. As soon as they reverted to single file, the rear Mongoose runner began a rhythmic chant.
“Whooo-Ah!”
His comrades immediately answered, “Aaaiii-Ah!”
“Weee-Ah!”
“Mongoose!”
“Whooo-Ah!”
“Aaaiii-Ah!”
“Weee-Ah!”
“Mongoose!”
They rotated the lead every mile, and the rear runner would always lead a new chant. Each of them had several unique chants, and they would roll through their repertoire as they cruised along. It was a psychological tool that was instilled from early training, and it helped pass the time and enabled their minds relax and not focus on the discomfort associated with the rapid pace over such long distances.
At high noon and into the afternoon, Mongoose floated across the terrain, and from a distance, they embodied pure synchronicity, the distant hum of their chanting in perfect harmony with their strides.
Vlad sat cross-legged on the floor of his home. He was next to the council room, holding hands with his daughter, Mia, and staring deep into her eyes with a joyful look as she recounted an experience that she’d had swimming at the lake that day.
“It was the first time I ever beat her!” Mia exclaimed with emotion. “I couldn’t believe it! She was so mad. But what do I do now?” The look in Mia’s eyes suddenly switched from one of satisfaction to one of horror. “She is going to try and destroy me next time. Dad, how do I hold her off? She’s so mean, and powerful.”
“Elona swims with anger; you swim with heart,” Vlad explained. “She is like her father, Philip, and you are like me.”
“She is like me,” his wife, Eva, interrupted. “You are not even a good swimmer.”
“Well, alright. You are like your mother,” he said compliantly. “But I more than made up for my swimming by being the best runner in the nation,” Vlad boasted as he stared Eva down, yet doing so with a look of uncertainty.
“Okay, Dad. I’m gonna do an extra swim every morning before breakfast,” declared Mia.
“No, no. Not yet, darling. You are only fifteen. Next year, you will make the Elites, and then you can do the heavy training. For now, just have fun and develop your mind as a swimmer and as a runner. Your body will follow your mind.
That’s the most important thing to remember.”
Outside of Vlad’s residence, in the great hall area nearest his place, several caterers worked busily to finish setting up an impressive buffet. There were wild berries, breads made from wild grains, fresh meats, some green vegetables, beans, and, of course, potatoes.
Eva came out to inspect just as twenty hungry athletes filed into the hall, all of their senses suddenly attuned to the presence of food—and lots of it. Mia stood beside Eva, although slightly behind her, peering at the young men. Oh, how she wished she were older. These were her rock stars, and if not for her shyness and feelings of inadequacy, she would have been unable to contain her excitement. When one of her heroes looked her way and smiled at her, she melted.
“Boys, go ahead and dig in. Vlad is coming soon,” Eva informed.
They descended like wolves, laughing and shoving each other. They were just a bunch of big kids who happened to be the best athletes Victory had ever produced. There wasn’t much need for a lot of formal endurance training for the men of Victory nation. Just the course of daily life presented each young man with more than enough activity for him to stay perfectly chiseled. But these young men were training very hard for the invitational at Eden, the first-ever event pitting athletes from Victory against the best Eden had to offer.
The men on each side thought they could never be matched by those on the other. There was also a degree of animosity between the nations. The Victorians, in particular, maintained a level of disdain that had carried through the generations. They harbored a feeling that the Edenites were defectors—traitors who had abandoned them. This was all despite the fact that few Victorians had ever met an Edenite.
There was a basic assumption that the Edenites were not very well off, living a meager subsistence without access to the great herds and other natural resources. Vlad knew differently but kept the facts to himself, not sure how his subjects would react. In fact, his main worry about the upcoming contest, which would ultimately have ten of his best athletes in Eden for about five days, was that they would feel that Eden had been a righteous choice by those who had left many years ago. They would realize that Ramius was not a troublemaker and a traitor, as he had always been depicted.
Vlad didn’t know exactly how to reconcile this, but when Moey had presented the idea a year earlier, he’d known that it had been the right thing to do, especially when he’d been invited in as a visitor to engage in planning the event and surveying the logistics and the courses they would race.
Over the years, other Victorians had been taken into Eden; these were usually relatives who had approached Eden’s soldiers at the frontier. Many times, the appeals would be rejected, but there were compelling cases, and in such instances, the military would register the cases, which would be ultimately decided by the Chair himself.
The most important condition that the prospective immigrants needed to deliberate was that this was a one-way ticket: they would never have the ability to return once they made a final decision and entered Eden. Vlad was the first to ever enter and then return. This had been negotiated, along with other details, at one of Eden’s frontier outposts.
Vlad walked into a scene of loosely controlled mayhem.
He watched Gabon and the men’s head coach, Hector, make futile efforts to rein the boys in.
“Hey! Pick that up, you animal! Where do think you are?” One of the boys gave his mate a quick shove, laughing and trying to compel him to follow Gabon’s instructions. Vlad tried to control a grin. He watched for a moment, enjoying the fact that he could observe them unnoticed.
“Gabon! Are these the manners we intend to bring with us to Eden?”
“No, Leader!” Gabon snapped to attention, as did everyone else, and the great room fell silent immediately.
Vlad began. “They think we are a bunch of savages living in tents and caves. They have their fancy houses. I saw them for myself. You will too. Then, you will realize that everything we thought we knew about Eden was wrong. I won’t say more about that, and I don’t want you to talk about it to anyone.” Vlad paced as he spoke. All eyes looked upon him with wonder and pure excitement.
“The next two days we will swim mainly, and then Gabon and I will decide which ten of you will go.”
There were exhales and some shifting of bodies, the result of high-strung athletes dealing with tension.
“You boys are the best of the best. To the ones who stay home, I know you will be disappointed. But I plan to make this a regular contest, and I promise that I will give you a chance in the next one. You will also stay and train to the end so that we keep the field crowded and competitive. As I told you before, this is a event for Eden … both swimming and running, together. They have only done it for a few years. But for us? We have never done it. They have an advantage in this regard. But swimming is swimming, and running is running. The distances are great, and so it doesn’t matter much whether you’ve done it before. All that matters is your stamina and your determination.
That is where you will prevail, boys. I have every confidence.”
Vlad looked over to Gabon and two of his military commanders from the running corps, who had just entered the room.
“Okay, boys. Eat well. We will start the briefing on the race details that we received from Eden. We will start to train specifically according to the race distances and elevations.
Gabon? Carry on.”
All rose to their feet with a chest salute. The athletes were all from the running corps and were, thus, soldiers themselves, so they were trained in military disciplines. As Vlad exited, they all cheered and hooted and then started to get back to the business of eating. As Vlad walked through the door to his house, he could hear one of the military commanders start the briefing while the boys ate, but this time they were silent and attentive, craving new information.
Team Mongoose was coming into the first way station strong and hard, when they were passed by a female team headed in the opposite direction, toward the south camp. Once the men arrived at the first way station, tired and hungry, they would immediately hand over the satchels, and the new team would quickly read the important documents and set out within half an hour.
The runners on the second leg would have left the south camp two days earlier, and they had one day off to recover. At any given time, there were at least twelve runners at each way station. Two teams would set out tomorrow in opposite directions when the new runners arrived. It was a system that had been enabled by raw human power and finetuning over the years, and it delivered mail at both ends once a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.
By running the four legs of the journey on alternate days, each runner reached the opposite camp in seven days.
Yet, using this method, the mail was delivered over two hundred miles of rough terrain and elevation changes, and this was done within thirty-six hours without fail.
When Mongoose arrived, there were four teams in the camp, plus a few other big and sturdy guys. These were the socalled “mules.” They could run, but their bodies were built and tuned for a different task—carrying heavy loads. Most of the time, they would be seen at the camps or on the trail, delivering provisions, including drinking water, which was scarce at two of the three way stations. Vlad wanted the runners to travel light and fast. On his watch, he had compressed the delivery by half a day by using mules and not requiring runners to carry resupplies.
Vlad departed the south camp a day later. He was headed to Eden for a meeting with Moey that had been sanctioned by both his own council and Eden’s Chair. The purpose of the meeting was to iron out some details of the competition and to ensure complete clarity with regard to security, the number of people coming and their purpose, and any final changes on either side that might have arisen and required consideration. There were only about sixty days remaining before the main event.
Vlad did have a new proposal. He wanted to see whether a women’s event could be included. A great deal of effort had been made to equalize the status of the men and women in Victory. Vlad was not sure about how this particular topic might be viewed in Eden, but he wanted to propose it. He was doubtful that it would be adopted for this year, as there was little time to prepare. But he hoped that it could be added next year—if there was to be a next year.
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