by T. Sae-Low
The minutes felt like hours. At some moments, time appeared to stop completely. What was taking them so long? wondered Arges.
Aric could see the look of concern on the general’s face. Never one to give up on his soldiers, Arges epitomized what a leader should be. What he lacked in age, he made up for with wisdom beyond his years. General Arges was the youngest person in the history of the Vicedonian Kingdom to achieve such a rank. He was only thirty-four years old. Amongst the leadership in the military, he was the youngest by far. General Steropes was the next youngest, and he was still eleven years Arges’ elder. Arges was the youngest heir to one of the twelve noble families of Vicedonia. These nobles carried much in power and influence amongst the high council of the kingdom. Whichever way the noble families swayed their opinion, it usually swayed the public’s opinion in kind, and thusly impacted King Maximus’ judgments.
The noble families tended to only have lower ranking members of their households join the military. They believed it to be a sufficient sacrifice to have some representation in the military. That way, they could always say they had family members on the front lines, fighting alongside the remainder of the households in all of Vicedonia. No social statuses or economic disparities came into play when they said; our children fight right alongside your children for the kingdom. A good strategy, at that, and one that had saved face for many of the noble families, but everyone still knew that the members they sent were of no real importance to the future well-being of the family. Lowly second cousins or nephews or nieces were usually the ones sent to the legions. For that reason many of the noble families had been despised secretly by the public. Rumors and gossip spread rampantly throughout the kingdom of how the blood of the poor fueled the machine that kept the noble families rich and powerful. It had been like that for many centuries, until Arges changed it all.
Arges was the youngest son of Noble Necho. At the age of twenty, when he was supposed to follow in his older brother’s and father’s footsteps in studying to become a high councilor, he refused. He had seen and spoken to many soldiers who had come back from war, sympathized with their ordeals, and made it a mission to do what he could to help, not by wearing a robe and debating the finer points of politics at council, but by wearing armor and fighting alongside his fellow Vicedonian citizens. He made his intentions public at his coming of age coronation, declaring to citizens of Vicedonia that he was forgoing his familial footsteps and entering the military academy. His family stood shocked at the announcement, but once it was public, they could do nothing to change it. Any attempt to rebuff Arges’ attempt to enter the military would have drawn the ire of the public, a public already highly critical of the noble families. Arges entered the academy and excelled rapidly.
His skills in all areas of battle were exceptional, but it was his leadership that was his prized attribute. People gravitated towards his presence. They clung to every word spoken from his lips. The people loved him because he genuinely cared for them. There was no pretense with him, no ulterior motives. He was too young to have had any black stains on his history. Arges’ rise through the military was unprecedented and not without warrant. Watching him in battle wielding his twin falcatas was like watching the Furies’ rage personified.
After Arges’ historic public declaration, many of the other noble families began to see their sons and daughters enter the military academy as well. Much to the dismay of the noble heads, to see their most precious enter the military to become mere foot soldiers. For King Maximus, though, it was a veritable gift to see his own high council’s children battling alongside all of Vicedonia. It pleased him greatly, and it also served as an impetus for Aric’s own desire to charge onto the battlefield. Aric saw in Arges the hero he wanted to be.
That’s why it pained Aric to see Arges so concerned. It had been eight hours since the four scouts left, and not a single one had returned. At most, they should’ve been gone for a few hours. Checking to see what was ahead and doubling back to report. Something had gone terribly wrong, and Arges knew it.
“Do we continue to wait?” asked Aric, not knowing if Arges even heard his question.
Arges looked down into the bottomless pit, as if subconsciously saying that his soldiers had become one with the Black. “No, we need to keep moving; perhaps we will find them along the way.”
“Which way do we go?”
“There’s no way to tell which way is better. One could be shorter, but more dangerous. The other could lead to a dead end, or send us marching the wrong direction. There’s just no way to tell. We have to just pick one and go. What does your instinct tell you, Prince Aric?”
“Perhaps we should send another set of scouts to see what happened?”
“There’s no chance anyone is volunteering to see what happened to those four. No matter how moving a speech I make this time, they know now for a fact that they won’t come back. There’s no point.”
“Then I say let’s go to the right.”
“Alright, let’s move.”
Just then, a neighing could be heard off in the distance. They all searched the horizon for the objects they hoped to see. Yes, they could see a horse running back towards their direction. It was moving at top speed, neighing and whinnying ferociously, no fear of the unguarded bridges. It bolted down the right path like a horse on a mission. The army cheered in celebration as they saw the horse return. Eyes widened, smiles reappeared, and they beat their chests in rhythm. Shouts of “Krakens!” filled the air. They welcomed back their comrades with renewed energy. However, the moment of joy quickly turned to despair once again as they saw there was no rider astride. When the horse made its way back to camp, Arges reined him in gently, soothing his coat with gentle strokes, and steadying his heartbeat. They searched the horse, but everything seemed to be in order. No signs of a skirmish or misfortune seemed apparent. They searched again and again and still could not find anything.
Aric examined the horse, looking for some clue to tell him the whereabouts of its owner. He watched as the horse trotted its feet back and forth, up and down. For a moment, something caught his attention, and then it was gone again. He watched closer now, the horse’s hoofs bobbed up and down. Again he saw something. Aric stood up and approached the horse. Arges and the rest of the army watched him with curious eyes. Aric grabbed the horse’s right hoof and picked it up, studying the bottom. It was covered with light grey dirt. No, this wasn’t dirt. Especially in the Dark Forest, the dirt and mud they had seen for days was a dark, thick, smelly opaque color. This was different. He smoothed out the dust with his fingers. This wasn’t dirt; it was ash. He raised his fingers and smelled the ash. This wasn’t just ash; it was human ash.
“Your riders are dead, General, I’m sorry to say.”
“How do you know, my Prince?
“The bottoms of the horse’s feet are covered in ash. The burnt remains of a human body. I recognize the smell of it. I’ve attended many burial ceremonies where we lay the deceased rites to sea. Scattering their ashes out across the water. The smell of the ash is something I can never forget.”
It was then that the horse began to cough violently. Whatever was caught in its throat refused to come out. The horse hacked loudly, nostrils flaring, and saliva dripping from its mouth. It took a deep breath and heaved. Out poured a pile of ash. It gushed forward until a small mound lay on the floor beneath it. The horse finally seemed to regain its senses and composure. Everyone stared at the pile of ash.
Suddenly, without warning the ash began to move. It swirled counter-clockwise, spinning faster and faster. As it spun, the pile grew taller and taller, shooting upwards to the sky. One inexplicable occurrence led to the next as the ash began to take form. When it had fully crystallized, what appeared to be a stone figure of Lucius stood before them. This can’t be real, thought Aric. The figure began to move, motioning as if it was fending off an invisible enemy.
“That’s the Southern style of combat. It was Lucius’ preferred fighting m
ethod. There’s no doubt that’s him… or what’s left of him,” said Arges.
They watched in horror as the figure continued its invisible battle. It fell to one knee, and then to both. It covered its face, shielding itself from an oncoming strike. That’s when the statue abruptly exploded. Ash dissipated in every direction. The army stood dumbfounded by what had just happened.
Aric clasped his hands tightly together to prevent his nervous shaking. “What in the world just happened?”
“It was a replay of Lucius’ final moments,” said Arges. “A warning.”
“Then… I guess the decision is clear now… we take the path to the left,” responded Aric nervously.
“Yes, we know what the path to the right offers, but I have a feeling the alternative offers something far worse.”
Chapter 23
