Jlén Mnmohiko spent three months with a group of proud Brmék citizens aiding Jelbék patriots on the harsh Baniray Steppe
The treacherous and wild Baniray Steppe is the permeable but inhospitable boundary between Jelbania and Vanuku
The scorched hills and endless expanses of the Baniray Steppe form the border between northern Jelbania and southern Vanuku, and remain one of the most geographically remote areas on Terra. It is here under the burning Majatran sun that much of Jelbic history has unfolded. Temrkai H'an has been here. During the great world war of the 3980s, it was here that H'an Intsrmor Azisrmko of Jelbania and Prince Juhn of Vanuku met in sacred trial, Sbtlshjogad, for the title of Jelb'koékaiék Mrjkai. Today, after nearly three months of preparation, I stood with seven men, each of them in traditional Jeztaghénml, "steppe clothing," overlooking the open and cracked Baniray to which we had hiked over the past week and a half.
"Hipylz grzy fitimojah (We're stopping here)," shouted our guide and leader, a grizzled ex-soldier from Ufne named Reshd, and the eight of us came to a blessed halt. Several of the men drank deeply from canteens made of a hardy steppe gourd slung around their necks. Mine had long since run dry, and I hoped in vain to find a creek or spring here soon. Four of Reshd's men set to unloading the two camels the party had brought. Each camel bore two wooden boxes filled with automatic weaponry and grenades of Vanukese and Beiteynuese make, which we had bought several weeks earlier through a remarkably shady Beiteynuese merchant in the remote town of Skalkémak, back on the Vanukese side of the border.
When I began this journey with Reshd and his men, I asked the man why he would make this trek, crossing borders illegally and braving the poisonous scorpions and arid hostility of the steppe. I'd long suspected that Reshd might be an agent of some Barmenistani or Vanukese intelligence agency with a vested interest in the collapse of the Metzist regime in Jelbania, but Reshd denied this so flatly and consistently that by now I almost believed him. "Prijmsrlji Jelbijékai grzy ajozuo. Mtzíaé Jelbényr wrzy Jelbestán drzy srhmojuo. Kez'i Jelbijékai orzy Jelbestán drzy grzmojetakjrnat (We are proud Jelbics. Metzist foreigners are ruling in Jelbania. We want strong Jelbics to prevail there)." Reshd was a true believer, a Jeztaghékai in the truest sense, a steppe-warrior. It sickened him and his men to know that herds could no longer roam on the Baniray as they had, that the Great Perimor was tamed and reaped for the benefit of the Metzist superstate, the Union of Revolutionary Socialist Republics. He sought open rebellion against the Metzist oppressor, but not because he worked for Wiel or Juliana - Reshd yearned for the freedom of traditional Jelbic life.
So here I stood, a reporter from Juliana seeking an interesting story, on the precipice of one of the most important places in Jelbic history with a band of patriotic gunrunners intent on overthrowing the government of the state in which I stood.
Not long after we arrived, a cloud of dust rising in the distance signaled the arrival of our Jelbék counterparts, who I'd been told were Jeztri clansmen, descendents of that ancient royal line, who recently had become more active in taking up the struggle against Metzist oppression. As they approached on horseback, the hooves of their steeds rang through the dry air in a manner which evoked the historic immensity of Jelbic life on this steppe. Hot air blew across my face, bringing the stench of horse and camel and human sweat, and dust bounced off the scarf wrapped over my nose and mouth. Watching these horsemen ride toward me at breakneck speed across the endless red flatness, surrounded by armed men in traditional garb, ready to aid them in overthrowing an international superstate, I felt more Jelbic than I ever had.
The lead Jelbék rider, a tall man with lean arms and legs well suited to riding and a turquoise Baonazr around his neck dismounted and grasped Reshd's arm at the elbow, embracing him and giving the traditional greeting. His group, five men to our eight, dismounted after him and watered their horses, who had been ridden hard across a long distance. Arms deals are best done quickly and in remote locations.
The Jelbék rider was introduced to me as Azi Azisrmko, and he was a swift speaking, serious man, all business. As he discussed his group's trip across the steppe, and our group's trip over the mountains of the border and into Jelbania, he snapped his fingers to his men and pointed to the wooden crates. They quickly set to work, quietly, loading their own camels with the payload. He reached deep into his Jeztaghénml and pulled Lodamese Dollars, which seemed bizarrely out of place here, beshbrj Tanhriék Baotaghe, under Tahnri's sky (as the saying goes, in the middle of nowhere), and pressed them into Reshd's outstretched and calloused hand.
With as much swiftness as they had approached, the Jelbéks departed just as swiftly, thundering away, thousands of LOD poorer but much richer in firepower and explosives, ready to do damage to whoever impeded the will of the Jeztri clan. Reshd turned to me, raised his eyebrows in satisfaction at a patriotic duty done and a job completed, and mounted his horse. I did the same, and we began the long trek northward back to Vanuku.
