by R. K. Gold
“These aren’t trained soldiers your men are fighting. They’re loyalists to a king whose rule is the only one they’ve ever known.” Diana leaned back in her chair and flicked open her fan.
“That isn’t the case anymore, and you know it!” His voice raised higher than he meant and clenched his jaw. His wife said raising one’s voice was a sign of weakness; the room's strongest person spoke the quietest and the least. Diana remained silent, and the two stared through empty space until they felt their breath on top of one another.
“If you don’t think King Benny is watching the skirmishes or orchestrating them in any way, you’re mistaken. We have captured uniformed men, and I know Benny and Izor are in negotiations as we speak.”
“They’ve been in negotiations since before the war ended. The thought of Dracar and Emerlia ever coming to terms on a true alliance is so farfetched, it would send the Mother away for another thousand years." She fanned faster and scrunched her upturned nose as sweat glistened on her dark skin.
“They’ve never had a common enemy like us before,” Armstrong replied. They were lucky Dracar dealt with its own border disputes during the last fight. If it weren’t for Dyznae, Wuldernt, and Krate raising forces to take on the north, Benny would've found a way to offer a treaty. It was one of the few things Benny was good at, telling people he needed to persuade precisely what they wanted to hear. "This continent has been their battleground since the Mother's last descent. Until they're gone, we will never know true peace.”
“They’ve never had the opportunity to negotiate with a nation like us before either.” President Wendell raised a single finger into the air and reached for her mug. The smoke from the contents inside parted across her face.
“With all due respect, ma’am, I’ve seen what these nations are willing to do on the battlefield.” And it certainly wasn’t talking. Before the war, Armstrong served King Benny as every officer in Colodian's service had. He saw firsthand the brutality of King Izor in his failed campaign to conquer Krate and, of course, Benny's message to the northern states of Colodian three years before the war ended. "They aren't interested in peace—Emerlia—you heard the stories of Wizendoff." Armstrong's brow furrowed. He leaned forward and clutched his knee.
The president nodded and put her cup down. “A tragedy.”
“Murder. Pure evil. A village with no defenses slaughtered, and they did it again at Doe and—and Lansing.” He hesitated to say the last word. His wife’s voice tickled his cheek, and he could feel her fingers curling around his hand.
“And Lansing,” Diana repeated. Armstrong choked down a gasp. He played it off as a cough, but already his pulse quickened.
“We all know the loss you suffered, Armstrong. No one underestimates the pain you’ve felt.”
“The murder I endured.” Talk, talk, talk, it was all Diana could do. Words were her medicine and her weapon.
“It was a senseless act of violence, and those men paid for their crimes. We sought to it that the criminals—”
"You sought nothing. You allowed them to be judged by their own king. Life in prison—" He spat on the ground, and the vein in his temple bulged. King Benny couldn’t punish men for following orders he approved. How could he ever call himself just if he confessed to those crimes? Benny needed to pay, as did the country that continued to fight for him after the war ended. How could Diana ever think that sharing a border with a monstrous nation like Emerlia condoned such atrocious acts, be a solution?
“A life in prison in the north, bordering Dracar,” Diana corrected him.
“They should’ve been killed. They should’ve felt the pain we suffered.” Armstrong clenched his jaw. His wife was in Lansing when Emerlia attacked. It served no strategic advantage, and only those most vulnerable remained behind.
“I’m quite familiar with the casualties of this war. Soldiers fought, but they were far from the only ones to suffer.”
“Did you suffer?” Armstrong tightened his grip on his seat. A numbness spread along his knuckles.
Diana swallowed in the long pause. Her eyes lingered on Armstrong, adding layers of bricks to the silence that rivaled the castle's height.
“Or did you hide in the east with your family?” He tilted his head up, looking down at the president along his crooked nose.
“Negotiated trade agreements that brought us supplies and ships to win the war.” She nodded. “But hiding is another way of putting it, yes.” She sat up straight, countering Armstrong’s hunched posture.
“I know you want nothing more than to bring peace to the continent. It’s why I didn’t run against you when Nisset looked to appoint the first president.”
“As I recall, you couldn’t leave your men either.”
Now, Armstrong soaked in the silence, letting President Wendell marinate in her jab.
“But I always appreciated your honesty,” she added.
"You and I want the same thing. We've always wanted peace on this continent. I would love nothing more than to get to a point where war is obsolete, where my men can all return home, but that will never happen with Emerlia and Dracar breathing down our throats. All those kings see is land to conquer. Once our continent is under their banners, they’ll move east to Lysander or west, until the three continents are theirs, and all that remains is the final war. How many of our ships have been sunk or boarded by pirates?” He put the last word in air quotes and said it in a sarcastic tone. “I haven’t seen any Brothers of the Red Flags on our shores.”
“They weren’t acting under the order of their government,” Diana responded. Dracar’s navy was second to none on the continent and arguably the most powerful in the world. Even before the war, they plundered and sank Emerlia ships trading with the eastern continent.
"What government? Izor? The king who approves of any action as long as you win." He jabbed his armrest with his finger to emphasize his point. "You still have the connections to the east. Dracar hasn't signed a treaty. If we can align with Krate and call on your Lysander connections, maybe we could at least negotiate peace with Dyznae and Wuldernt. Then Dracar will never side with Emerlia, and Benny's war efforts will crumble. Their resources are limited. Spring hasn't been friendly to their land. We can crush King Benny, and once he's gone, we can free Dyznae and Wuldernt from Dracar until they feel the entire world collapsing around them.”
“So, your solution to peace is to annihilate two entire nations from the face of the earth?” Diana asked. The bees buzzed louder as the gardeners left.
“One of them is on our border and looking for any opportunity to retaliate. You know that these aren’t mere skirmishes anymore. I know you’ve heard the whispers coming from the northern states.”
“Say I listen to you, I cannot declare war without the support of Nisset.”
"The north alone almost gets you a majority. Who doesn't support strengthening our borders? Rishid?" She was the one commander arguably more respected than Armstrong, depending on the circle and the one most staunchly opposed to further military action.
“Yes, you’ve seen to it that Gilmore and company repeat whatever words come out of your mouth. It’s why some representatives think you have all the makings of a king.”
“If I had an interest in that, would I be here talking to you?”
“I suppose not.” Diana sucked her teeth. “So, what do you suppose we do?”
Armstrong hesitated. He pulled both hands close to his body and rocked back and forth as the words bubbled out of his mouth. His eyes dropped to the black book beside the president. "The solstice is two weeks away. You know how long it's been since the Mother returned?"
“She returns annually,” Diana replied, but Armstrong knew she was feigning ignorance, so he pressed.
“Based on charts, it’s been a thousand years since her star touched the earth. Imagine the godlike energy anyone within her presence receives. I think we have to go to the forest.”
“The forest.” Diana nodded. “I thought you wante
d to avoid death.”
“There are ways around the toxins, and it’s the only segment of our border not under any threat of attack. Emerlia would never pay for the equipment to send a sizable army through safely, and it offers no strategic advantage for them.”
“Clearly, it does if you think marching through will grant you some kind of magic. Maybe you aren’t set on being a king, are you trying to be a god?” She chuckled. “What if they’re planning the same strategy as you,” Diana replied, but Armstrong shook his head.
“Like they’d ever accept any truth beyond the one true god? Half of them believe the forest is toxic because we prayed to the wrong spirits. The other half think the Stories of the Mother are nothing more than bedtime tales. They would never risk their safety for a hunch that could collapse their entire church."
“But you’re suggesting we bank our entire security on the off chance that the descent of the Mother’s star will actually come to earth this year?”
“I didn’t think you were such a skeptic.”
“I didn’t think you were such a gambler. Requesting forces to defend our borders is a reasonable request, but now you're suggesting we endanger the lives of soldiers to stake out a forest that could kill them, which you mentioned yourself holds no strategic advantage, on the off chance that the Mother returns this year."
“No, I’m requesting you allow me to risk my life." Armstrong wiped the sweat off his forehead. Beads trickled into his eyes and burned while birds chirped in the trees surrounding them. The shade from their branches fell just short of the Colonel. When Diana didn't respond, he continued. The air between them hummed. He could feel a charge building. “I know the immortal in the forest is real.”
“You know?” She lowered her chin, and her eyes narrowed.
“I have reason to believe he has been spying on the city for some time now.”
“That’s quite a leap from knowing they exist.”
“He—I know he exists.”
“Did you venture into the forest and see firsthand?” She smirked at her own question, but the residuals of her smile faded when Armstrong said, “Yes.”
“How did you survive?”
"He threw me out. It's all kind of a blur. I didn't make it far before the pollen set in. It attacks your throat first." He moved his hand to his neck as he spoke and winced from memory. "Feels like it's on fire, then next thing you know, it's closed, and no air can pass down your windpipe. I collapsed to the ground, surrounded by some of the most beautiful wildflowers I'd ever seen. I was ready to accept my fate. There are far worse ways to go than in a quiet forest, surrounded by so much life. Too many of my men died oppositely—but as my vision darkened, I felt two hands grab me. Next thing I knew, I'm headfirst in a pond, and when I yanked myself out and gasped for air, the burning sensation was gone, and I was alone once more.” He raked his hands through the air. “But I remember these purple flowers beside me. They almost glowed.”
“When was this?” Diana asked.
“After the war. Wouldn’t you go looking for immortality if death were your closest neighbor for four years?”
“So you truly believe the star will touch the earth this summer, and the Mother will turn anyone she touches into a god?" Diana moved her hand over the black book beside her.
“You’ve read the stories, I know you are familiar with the Mother’s power.” Armstrong looked to the black book beside President Wendell.
"I'm familiar with the stories, but that's it—they're stories. Their power lies in the interpretation of the words, not the actions of the characters." She smiled at the young Colonel. The lines on her cheeks darkened. "You read the descending of the star and the power of its light as a weapon?"
“It says once every thousand years, the Mother returns the world to its former glory. That a millennia of death and destruction is wiped away, and those who survive can enjoy a new golden age." He rubbed his hands together, silently pleading with the president to catch on.
“As you said before, you know I’m familiar with the stories.”
“And you know that in the past, the power from the star has been used to overthrow—”
“Only stories.” Diana raised her hand in the air, and Armstrong fell silent. Her tone hardened, and she rose. Armstrong immediately stood with her.
“Your reputation has carried you a long way—I’m sure you’re still questioning if you made the right decision to not lead this nation after the war. Nisset would’ve appointed you that day, and the people would never vote you out. The great Colonel Armstrong. The savior of Colodian. Those titles mean a lot to you, and once you become president, only your mistakes would matter. If you kept to your ways, you’d be seen as a tyrant—if you strode for peace, they’d call for the old Armstrong to return.” She paused, and Armstrong felt a lump form in his throat. It slowly slipped down his esophagus, choking him along the way. She was only half right. He did have regrets from the war but wasn’t upset for even a second about not pursuing the presidency. All he wished now was that he kept marching after Twin Rivers and removed Benny from his throne. All he wanted was peace, but he knew they were still so far from that.
"And what would happen if you brought the idea of using starlight from the Mother to annihilate two nations from the face of the earth? You'd be accused of insanity if you're lucky and a war criminal if your threats held any merit. If you came here to ask my permission to march on the Mother's forest in the hopes of eliminating our northern neighbors, then I must apologize, Colonel. I will not entertain this request to Nisset." Before Armstrong spoke, she waved him off once more. "However, I understand how reputation works too. I understand that already many believe, yourself included, that my efforts for peace have made us weak. Any effort to stop the hero of the Twin Rivers would likely result in my prompt removal. So, if you wish to present your case one last time to Nisset yourself, I won’t stand in your way.”
Wendell grabbed her book and returned to her cottage. “Perhaps you should walk the stone path before you leave,” she added before closing the door behind her.
7
The circular sanctuary beyond the archway was walled off from the rest of the city by pale stone bricks that could easily be scaled but kept nosey observers blocked out. The walls were covered in vines with orange flowers sprouting from the cracks.
Three spiraling stone paths followed three manmade creeks. They led to a large pool in the center surrounded by a bed of purple flowers with yellow spots in the center of their petals.
Two people were walking the paths. Each had their hands behind their backs. One had their head down, watching every step they took while the other looked to the sky. A man in dark-brown robes stood in front of a tree statue with half of a face carved into the bottom of the trunk and a root poking out from the ground. A squirrel sat on the branch, nibbling an acorn. The root was half of a hand with a thumb and forefinger poking out of it.
“An offering for the Brother?” the robed man asked. His hood was pulled over most of his face. Only his pointed nose and thin, red lips were visible. Yael looked back to the tree and focused on the closed mouth of the half-faced stone man. Was he trapped in the earth or growing with the tree?
"I'm looking for someone," Yael replied. Birds flew overhead, landing branch to branch, singing to one another. The trees offered spots of shades along the courtyard. Closed bulbs sprouted out of the light dirt just off the path.
“Of course—everyone who comes to the sanctuary is searching for something. Why else would we pray?” He grinned and pulled back his hood to reveal a thinning head of gray hair and a face freckled with dark spots. His teeth were crooked and yellow. “If you’re truly lost, it’s the Mother you seek.”
The words punched Yael in the gut. It wasn't the Mother she sought. Her mother never left her side; she died, bringing Yael into the world.
“If it’s stability, look no further than the Brother." The man in the brown robe turned to the statue of the tree. Half of a face
merged into the trunk, and its eyes focused on the sky—a son calling up to his mother.
“And if it’s change—” the man began.
“The Sister," Yael finished and turned to the third statue. A gray carving of a cresting wave cast a shadow over a bare patch of grass. A single stone woman stood beneath it with her palms pressed together. She had no discernible features, only a pair of closed eyes and hands pressed together in prayer. In front of the statue was a hooded figure in green robes. They knelt before the independent pond in front of the stone figure. It wasn't attached to the creeks or the central pond.
“You know it’s the year of the descent,” the man said. Yael looked over her shoulder. He approached her with his hands resting on top of his round stomach. “Soon, we will return to a golden age. All the sins of our past will be washed away. The stench of war will be cleansed, the oceans will rise, and the forests will return to their former glories.”
Yael was familiar with the descent. She knew the Mother reset the world every thousand years, and with that power gave some immortality. "It's only a story. It's not like anyone's ever been alive to see it."
“Except the immortal of the forest, you mean,” the man replied, holding up a single finger.
"There's no immortal of the forest." The Mother's forest was toxic to all living things. The only argument those who believed in the immortal had was that no one could live long enough in the northern woods to disprove it.
“But he’s real, and he lives in shame.” The robed man rubbed his hands together as he spoke. The way he smiled in the silence after mentioning his shame made the skin on Yael’s forearms stand on end.
“Why would an immortal live in shame?”
“You mean you never heard about the king of Izkobak?” The man’s eyebrows shot up. Three dark creases carved across his forehead. “The king of the grand continent?”
