“The sun and the moon,” he mumbled to himself.
“United, they can shed light into the darkness,” I commented.
Shortly thereafter, a delegation of Orange and Yellow met halfway on the bridge, joined by us Harlequins and Cestia. There were the four sisters that led the sisterhood and several brothers led by Brother Ddeko. There followed a moment of awkwardness until Ddeko spoke first. “I see you still have my feather, Sitria,” he said, addressing the second oldest of the sisters.
“Of course Ddeko, it was my first. How could I forget?”
“Well… who knows. Perhaps the sun may have burnt away your recollection!” he groused.
“I don’t understand…” replied Sitria.
“All right,” I said cutting the conversation short, “let us go over the plan, together. We will need the best Orange and the best Yellow, out here, with my Harlequins…”
“And bovines too,” added Daerec. “Lots of dead bovines.”
27. The River of Blood
The Black army attacked on the fourth sunrise that marked our presence in the twin cities. They marched toward us, in no real hurry, like a cougar lazily stalking a rabbit. Arrogant as they were, and galvanized by their victory over the Red, they probably considered this engagement to be more of a practice run rather than a true battle. Their contempt for the Orange and Yellow was so great, they didn’t even bother to bring their moving siege towers with them. I counted the lines of soldiers from afar and I was glad to see they hadn’t mobilized even half of the warriors they’d used to attack the Red, either. Perhaps they needed their legionaries elsewhere, I thought, though I hoped they wouldn’t ever be smart enough to consider fighting two fronts at the same time. Indeed, since their advanced scouts were roaming the territories unopposed, maybe they’d assumed their conquest was not an effort that required many soldiers.
As I watched them draw closer, sporting their shiny bronze armor that glinted in the sun and their black wolf-hide mantles, I tried my best not to dwell upon my father. Instead, I focused on Failan’s story of how the Blacks had destroyed Everdia. I thought of Tiara’s frail young body lying lifeless on the ground. These warriors were not my kin. They weren’t even warriors — just assassins.
Love and wrath; wrath and love. Soon, it would be time for wrath. But first, it would be a time of awe…
The Blacks banged their swords against their shields and stomped their feet in unison. The noise was so powerful it rippled the placid waters of the Yara river.
Suddenly, the soldiers in front halted, generating confusion in the back ranks. From where I hid, I could see their captains move forward to determine the cause. What they beheld was a tableau of desolation. Slaughtered cattle littered the fields. Hundreds of floating chrome bodies choked the river. The tangy, iron scent of blood pervaded the valley and filled their nostrils. Shrieking hawks wheeled high in the sky and even more were lacerating the bovines’ carcasses with their sharp beaks. The waters of the Yara had turned red.
I crouched on Daerec and Xai’s shoulders. They were neck deep in the Yara and had camouflaged their faces. I tapped their heads and stood on their shoulders. At the same time, they stepped on submerged stools to raise me up. The effect was startling: I appeared to rise out of the Yara and float above it, semi-shrouded in smoke. Once again, I had painted my face white chalk and red — like a vengeful demon. “Black warriors!” I cried. “You come late to my feast!”
At first, The Blacks did not respond, but I saw fear reach a clammy hand into their ranks and spread like a disease. Many superstitious Blacks began to fall back. “Stand your ground, cowards!” one of them, shouted. He strode to the front of the line and hurled a spear at me. I ducked, just in time and I signaled Daerec and Xai to lower me back into the water. Moments later, another Red Harlequin appeared in a different place, upriver.
“You cannot kill me!” I heard the other creature say. “I am immortal!”
While everyone’s attention was on my double, Xai, Daerec and I followed the current downstream. We quietly moved between the floating corpses and drew closer to the Black army. No sooner had the other Red Harlequin disappeared, then I rose out of the river, again, in my new spot. “I am everywhere! I am the Red Harlequin!” I bellowed. I was rewarded by terrified whispers among their ranks.
“He’s a spirit!” gasped one soldier.
“The valley is infested!” said another.
“Let’s leave!” suggested a third.
“It’s just a trick!” Yelled the spear thrower, from among the crowd.
That’s when I raised my arms and intoned: “Rise, creatures of the dead! Rise and quench my thirst for blood!”
Suddenly the Yara churned and boiled. Monstrous creatures emerged from the foam. Those same floating corpses lurched toward the Black soldiers, moaning and shaking their stiff limbs. Some held swords; others clutched butcher knives, cleavers, spears, and tridents. Their masks were rusty and smeared with blood. Even I, who had dreamed up this grisly spectacle in the first place, was shocked to see how nightmarish they looked. My infernal creatures scrambled toward the most powerful army in the Territories, unafraid, and their moans turned into one long, collective blood-curdling howl.
The surprise was such that the Black warriors fell like sticks, paralyzed as they were from utter fear, with the Orange and Yellow Chromes cutting their legs with scythes, tainting the waters no longer with fake red paint but with real chrome blood.
The plan was unfolding better than I had envisaged it. The many Black warriors were struck down before they even understood what was happening. I wanted to believe the gods were rooting for us, but I was wrong.
As I made my way across the field, Black warriors fell at my feet almost before I even had the chance to strike them. Suddenly, I was face to face with a warrior who did not run from me in terror. On the contrary, he stood his ground, ready to fight.
When I drew closer to him, I noticed blonde hair streaming from his helmet. Not many chromes had blonde hair in Axyum.
“Asheva!” he said.
“Andahar!” I replied with some joy – and for that mistake I would pay dearly.
He shouted to his fellow legionaries: “He is no Harlequin! He is no ghost! I know this chrome! It is Asheva, the traitor! Asheva, the coward!”
I experienced a strange sensation of time standing still, like a holding of breath so that I might remember our friendship. We had been as close as brothers – two young chromes from the same neighborhood and seminary who practically lived at each other’s homes. I could always count on Andahar’s carefree sense of humor and mischievousness to brighten my day. Gone was the happy young chrome who could draw me out of myself with one sly grin – he had been replaced by a grim, war-hardened soldier. Indeed, Andahar pointed his sword at me and bellowed: “I shall kill him!”
He moved, fast as lightning and his sword tip missed my throat by a hair’s breadth.
I fended off his next blow and pushed him outward. I did not care that Andahar was full of murderous rage. How could I ever hurt my old friend, let alone kill him? We both caught our breath. Around us, an open circle had been made by the Black warriors. There would be no way I could retreat and fight someone else.
I studied him. He had grown tall, and despite his thin body, he had become strong too. And quick. I realized now it was he who had thrown the spear at me. “Look at you,” he sneered, “Why does Jaries, God of War and Vengeance still keep you alive? I wish I knew.”
“I don’t care for wishes.” I replied. “Or false gods who perpetuate war. In Axyum, I killed to protect my mother from being violated by a corrupt elder. Now I fight to free chromes of all colors from tyranny. I usually fight tyranny’s puppets, like you too, but I would much prefer to lay down my arms and embrace you as a brother.”
“We are no longer brothers. And as far as your mother is concerned, she got what she deserved.”
“Mother…what happened to her?” I shouted out.
He did
not respond. Instead he rushed forward and used his shield to knock me down.
“Finish him, Andahar!” cheered a Black. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins. The thought of my mother being harmed by these beasts only increased my rage.
Andahar came in for the kill but I was quick to roll away and get up again.
I went at him and began pounding my sword over his shield. “What happened to her?” I shouted. “Answer me!”
My blows forced him to fall down. I hooked my sword under his shield and pried it out of his hands. I was ready to kill him. But then his words of when we were in Axyum together came back to me: ‘When our time will come to go to battle, I wouldn’t want anyone beside me but you’
“You have become a servant of the corrupt,” I said and left him lying on the ground.
“Fight me you coward!” He screamed. “You can’t run away forever Asheva! The wrath of the shepherd god will find you and kill you!”
I turned around and shouted: “Your shepherd god is a lie! Everything about Axyum is a lie! I will return to Axyum and reveal it!”
“Asheva!” This time it wasn’t Andahar but the other Red Harlequin. He was in reality a she and was none other than Cestia. She made her way close to where I was together with her Parabathai warriors.
“Ah there are even a few Red warriors! We shall spill your blood in honor of Jaries!” And as Andahar said this, other Black soldiers immediately went against Cestia’s silent guardians.
But the Parabathai warriors were not caught off guard. Each couple fended off their opponents continuously rotating, like a deadly spinning top.The result was that the Red lover-warriors created panic throughout the Black ranks. They retreated, dragging Andahar with them so they could protect him.
I used this moment to fight my way closer to Cestia. I had left my mother unprotected in Axyum, I would not do the same mistake with the Red princess. I had seen how valiantly she fought beforehand, but a pain gripped my stomach at the thought of her risking her life. Inspired by the Parabathai style of duel combat, I sought to do the same with her.
“I’m watching your back!” I told her as I faced two Blacks eager to cut me in half. “Let’s fight together, like the Parabathai!”
She nodded and when our shoulders touched, she cried out: “begin to rotate!”
We quickly became the latest, lethal spinning top to create havoc amongst the Blacks. Nearby Orange and Yellow saw us together in action and they attempted to do the same. It was a bizarre way for the two colors to find common ground, but it did my heart good to see them putting each other first for a change, rather than being so at odds.
But the Blacks had also been spurred on by Andahar’s words. His news that the Red Harlequin was in reality a Black fugitive travelled quickly throughout their ranks. The Black outnumbered us and they were far better trained than the Yellow and Orange. For every warrior we killed, two more would appear. The surprise and fear we had used to our advantage now gripped the Yellow and Orange. The Blacks no longer saw river monsters — only cattle grazers fighting hard with Green thieves and treacherous Reds to keep their land and their freedom.
“Retreat!” Cried out Brother Ddeko. “Retreat!”
“Everyone — inside Crodya!” cried Sister Sitria.
Without hesitating, I also shouted: “Everyone to Crodya! Everyone to Crodya!”
Brother Ddeko gazed at his city on the other side of the river and then looked at me and shouted: “If we all go inside Crodya, Doryca will be left to its destiny! The Blacks will use it as their fortress!”
He was right. They would soon realize that the Yellow city was undefended, take it and prepare their attack against the Orange city.
“To Doryca! Everyone to Doryca!” Ddeko, yelled. This caused even more confusion among the Orange and Yellow.
“It’s too late now!” I told him. “We must hold together! Crodya is the closest of the two cities. If we all go there, we stand a chance. If you divide us, we will be doomed.”
“The Harlequin is right!” said Sitria. She ran up to us. “We have to sacrifice Doryca.”
“Our infants are there! Our cattle is there!” cried Ddeko. “You’re asking the impossible!”
“Your brothers will not make it to Doryca, they will be slain beforehand.” Cestia pointed out.
“Wait!” I said. “Perhaps there is still a way to win the battle.” I quickly outlined what I thought might be our last chance.
“Do it!” Sitria said. “There’s no more time!”
“But we have to bring everyone to Crodya, now, or it will be too late.” I warned Ddeko.
He nodded and then shouted to the Yellow: “Brothers! Everyone — inside Crodya!” On his orders, all the Yellow and the Orange ran for gates of the Orange City. And the doors of Crodya, for the first time, opened to let Chromes of both sexes and other colors, in.
“Quick, quick!” I shouted at Cestia. I watched Shaina get pushed to the ground but luckily Daerec was quick enough to grab her and bring her to safety.
The Blacks charged after us like a swarm of angry hornets. They were certain that victory was now within their grasp. Then Crodya’s gates began to close and a rain of arrows painted the sky silver. I could see that many had been left outside, including several Parabathai warriors. She remained outside of the doors, calling them desperately, one by one.
“It’s no use Cestia.” I told her. “We have to go inside, or we will die here too”
“They are my warriors!” she wept. “They are Red warriors!”
“They have lived together and now they will die, together,” I said grabbing her arm. “A privilege the Gods grant only to the few. Now let’s get inside!” We entered, just in time before the huge metallic doors crushed us.
Inside the Orange city, it was havoc. Shouts from the wounded mingled with calls to arms from anybody who could still fight. Orange infants huddled together by the sacred cows. I thought about the Yellow infants in Doryca, helpless.
“This had better work,” I told myself.
“Everyone, climb the ramparts!” Sitria, the leader of the Sisterhood, commanded. “All hands up at the Turrets!”
Cestia and I ran up the stairs to the highest tower of Crodya. Below, the Black were chopping down those who had not made it inside the walls. The river continued to pour blood through the valley, like a gigantic vein. It was a horrible spectacle and soon, they would continue it in Doryca. I made my way over to where Ddeko was.
“Now!” I said. He made a strange, trilling sound and gazed at the sky. Soon after, a hawk landed on his left arm. The Yellow chrome quickly tied a tiny parchment to one of the bird’s talons. He raised his arm and let the hawk fly away.
As we watched the raptor go, we saw the Black beginning to advance toward the Yellow city. Their legionaries ran out onto the bridge that divided the two cities.
“May the gods help us now…” whispered Ddeko.
I could no longer see the hawk in the sky, and the Blacks seemed very close to the walls of Doryca. One moment too late and everything would be lost. The Legionaries would seize control of the city in no time and would probably use the infants as leverage until the Yellow and Orange surrendered Crodya.
Then… something happened. Something we had prayed for. The Yellow chromes in Doryca had received Ddeko’s instructions in time.
The gates of the Yellow city opened like the gigantic mouth of an infernal creature, spitting out an endless number of beasts. Much of the cattle of the Yellow and the Orange had been stocked inside Doryca in preparation for our battle. Now they stampeded out of the gate, in an earth shaking rush. They immediately headed to the Yara, aiming for the bridge.
Like an unstoppable flood, the terrorized bovines mowed down the tired Black army, who could not retreat. They crashed through the enemy lines and those who were not killed by the first wave were forced to turn around and run straight into a sky-load of Orange arrows whizzing down from Crodya.
Indeed, the Yellow and Ora
nge archers on top of Crodya had no difficulty finishing off what remained of the army from Axyum. Those who survived both the wild herd and the archers, limped back to the plains. The sight of the Black legionaries running away, through the valley, made everyone inside Crodya cheer and cry. I saw many Orange and Yellow embrace and rejoice together. From the walls of Doryca, I could see the Yellow that had remained there to release the cattle waving Yellow flags and rejoicing, as well.
Cestia was also laughing and crying at the same time. Her face was still painted white and red, like mine. I wiped away her tears and the color near her eyes. She never looked more fragile and more beautiful than she did at that very moment. I kissed her and we stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for what seemed like an eternity.
28. Rise of the Harlequin
When dusk arrived, there were no celebrations. We slowly collected the dead bodies scattered throughout the valley and made huge fires to burn them. There was an eerie silence. I watched Daerec and the other Harlequins help the Orange with their dead sisters.
I went up to Daerec and said: “I still haven’t thanked you for coming back. You are more than a friend could deserve.”
He smiled and replied: “I have lost a brother, but I have gained a new one.”
“Five new ones!” Aprin cheerfully agreed.
“And you have also gained new sisters,” Shaina said.
We clasped arms and then I drifted away from my loyal Harlequins to inspect the bodies of our enemies. The sacred books in Axyum spoke of valiant warriors rejoicing at the end of the battle. But those were fake heroes—legends – not real chromes who had engaged in the flesh and blood barbarity of war. Like my father once said: “Regardless of color, no glory comes from the killing of a chrome.”
I began to pile them together. As the masks of these enemy warriors came off, I saw that several were quite young. I dreaded finding Andahar amongst the corpses.
“The only way for this to end is if we kill all the Black chromes, once and for all,” I heard someone say. It was Cestia. She had changed to her red robes and had placed her silver mask on, once more.
Rise of the Harlequin Page 10
