by Pedro Urvi
“This is the Boundary.”
Kyra’s eyes opened wide.
“Ooooh, I see…”
Yosane divided the right half of the large circle into three equal parts.
“The first, second and third counties, the richest.”
“And the great river Zibai?” Kyra asked.
Yosane drew a line which crossed the three counties.
Kyra smiled.
“Go on, go on…” she urged.
The finger dipped in the water again and drew the remaining three counties in the left half of the circle.
“The fourth, fifth, and then yours, Kyra, the sixth: the poorest, because the great Zibai doesn’t bathe them, only its lesser tributaries.”
Kyra had never seen a map or anything like it before, nor had anybody ever shown her either the way the counties were divided or their shape. That drawing on the dusty floor seemed unbelievable to her.
“It’s… it’s… like a cartwheel…”
“That’s right. It’s impressively simple and clear, a brilliant design in every way.”
“Are all the counties the same size?”
“Yes, the area they make up, the land, it’s the same for all of them.”
“And from the capital to the Boundary, is there the same distance everywhere?” Kyra asked, measuring with her index and little fingers from the monolith to the outer rims of the Boundary.
“Yes, it’s a perfect circle. It’s been measured on several occasions. Among the builders this design is well known. Outside the guild it’s kept secret. The Enforcers don’t want it to be known among the peasants. In my opinion it’s because it’s much more difficult for people to try to escape or hide if they don’t know which direction to go in. Most of the people who flee do it without any knowledge, without any direction, and that’s why it’s easy to catch and execute them.”
“I think what you’re saying makes a lot of sense. The more ignorant we are, the less we can resist.”
“That’s right, and that’s why the majority of the people are illiterate, and the Gods, through their Enforcers, make sure it stays that way.”
Kyra stared at the drawing with her mouth open.
“It’s unbelievable. I never thought it would be like this.”
“Neither you nor most of the people who live in it. It’s a very well-thought-out design, the work of the Gods, an enormous prison, very well laid out and built. Now you’re one of the few who know.”
Kyra smiled and thanked Oxatsi, Mother Sea, for having provided her with such an intelligent and good-hearted friend. Behind them they heard footsteps, and Yosane hurriedly erased the drawing.
“Get moving!” The Eye had returned.
Kyra took Yosane’s hand.
“Stay close to me,” she whispered.
The Executors led them through a labyrinth of narrow tunnels. Kyra had no idea where they were; she was completely disoriented. Without a word the Executors led them though the somber underground level, one leading the way and the other two following the girls closely, prodding them with their spears if they lagged. The Eye brought up the rear. They went up a flight of stone stairs at the mouth of one of the tunnels and came out on to the surface, inside a walled courtyard. They crossed a great metal door guarded by Executors and found themselves in the streets of the city.
All of a sudden, summoning horns echoed to the sky. Kyra was startled. What on earth was happening? She looked around uncertainly, and gestured inquiringly at her friend. Yosane shrugged, her eyes fearful. They went on. Kyra thought about trying to escape before they got to wherever they were being taken, but it would be folly. She would have to fight three warriors of brutal strength, armed and alert. However much she might want to, and in her guts she did, it would be an act of madness which could only end badly. No, better wait for some real chance to escape. The horns sounded once again over the city, echoing in streets and on roofs.
They turned a corner, and a large square appeared before their eyes.
“It’s the Great Square, we’re in the capital!” said Yosane.
The square was crowded with people. Kyra stopped in surprise. It was rectangular and completely flat, with a shining white granite floor. It could hold several thousand people, and it was full. Tall, well-kept buildings surrounded it, adorned with blue banners. On the north side a hundred marble steps ascended from the square to a platform. And there she saw it. The mysterious object she had heard so much about.
The Sacred Monolith. The artifact of the Gods.
It was much bigger that Kyra might have imagined, totally black, spectacularly tall — more than a hundred and twenty feet tall and fifteen wide — and perfectly rectangular. Its spotless dark surface shone in the faint winter sun. It rose, dominating the square, the whole city. Such a remarkable arcane aura issued from it that Kyra felt goose-bumps. She was speechless. Behind the monolith she saw an enormous palace with great golden columns, of sublime architectural beauty, which filled the whole north side of the square. There was no doubt that this was Regent Sesmok’s palace.
The northern part of the city was higher up, on a plateau. Kyra shaded her eyes with her hand and looked towards the south. She could make out the main avenue in the distance. It was tremendously wide, decorated with stone statues representing proud warriors and pretty maidens carrying musical instruments and amphorae. The streets and the buildings of the great city seemed well-tended, built of good granite and even finished with decorative details in marble and colored ceramics; their beauty was something which Kyra had not anticipated, used as she was to the simplicity of poverty. She looked down at the floor she was walking on and saw that even the slabs under her feet were made of good stone.
She scanned the south eastern part of the square and saw fountains and gardens on both sides of the great avenue, as well as grand houses with great porticoes and beautiful round columns. Kyra stared at them all, open-mouthed. They were far more impressive than she had imagined.
“That’s the Merchants’ Quarter,” Yosane whispered at her side, following her gaze.
Kyra nodded.
“At the end, to the south, is the Craftsmen’s Quarter, near the wall. That’s where my home is.”
Looking in that direction, Kyra noticed that the houses in the lower part of the city, along the wall, were much plainer, and there were hardly any grand houses. The class division was evident in the great city. The rich merchants had built their palaces in the center of town, on both sides of the great avenue.
She looked again at the crowded square. What was going on? Why were they there? One of the Executors pushed her with his spear, forcing her to move forward. She went on uneasily; that giant artifact of the Golden made her deeply nervous. In front of it on a platform two people were waiting, dressed in rich silks.
“Regent Sesmok and High Priest Torkem,” whispered Yosane, nodding in their direction.
Behind them several Eyes-of-the-Gods waited, arms crossed behind. And to one side, a sinister sight: Three young women were hanging by their arms from a wooden structure. Their feet did not reach the ground. They looked unconscious, or dead.
Yosane gave a cry of anguish when she saw them. Kyra noticed that one of them was moaning with pain, and another glanced at her momentarily before she fainted. They were alive, though barely. Kyra and Yosane were led by the Executors until they were facing the unfortunate victims. Kyra stared at the body of one of the girls; her entire left side was blackened, as if burnt to charcoal. She stole a glance to the other two hanging beside her, and both showed the same signs. She looked away in fear and disgust.
Two Executors came to stand beside them. With their spears they indicated to Kyra and Yosane that they should look at the crowd which had gathered. The two girls exchanged uncertain looks, but did as they were told. At their feet, the thousands of people who filled the great square and its surroundings waited in silence. It seemed that the whole capital had come to witness this sinister spectacle.
“I ha
ve summoned you here today, my beloved people—” a powerful voice thundered.
“It’s Regent Sesmok,” whispered Yosane nervously, while Sesmok continued:
“—so that you can witness with your own eyes how useless and foolish it is to try and deceive the Gods.”
The crowd remained silent. Kyra watched him. He was a hard man: thin, middle-aged, with his head shaven. His nose was aquiline, and his eyes were tiny, black and deeply-sunken, eyes that were filled with danger.
“These young women you see here hanging in shackles tried to trick the Gods. They tried to hide, to outwit the Divine Summons. They were Selected, and in their stupidity and ignorance they did not attend the Summons, but chose to hide. And that is the reason why they are hanging here now, suffering their well-deserved punishment, nobody can escape the wishes of the Gods. Nobody.”
Kyra began to understand. She looked to her left and saw a group of Hunters. It was not Ikai’s group; it was led by a very tall, muscular and weathered Master Hunter with hair as white as snow. She guessed they had been hunting, chasing after those poor girls, who after being chosen, and probably driven by fear, had tried to escape or hide before being found by the Enforcers. Kyra knew it was not possible to escape; Ikai had told her so. The Boundary could not be crossed, not with those cursed Rings which imprisoned them. But there were rumors, unsure and whispered in secret, about some who had managed it.
She looked at the group of Hunters and guessed that those unfortunate girls had gone into hiding. But the Hunters always found their prey; that she knew for certain. Better them than the Executors… she thought bitterly. But when she looked at those blackened bodies she knew they had passed through the merciless hands of the Enforcers of the Gods. That was not the work of the Hunters.
“Look at them carefully. That is what awaits those who do not obey the law of the Golden. Nobody can hide, nobody can escape. I, your Regent, assure you of this. The law of the Gods, and under that the laws of the Regent, must always be obeyed, or else pay the consequences: consequences steeped in pain and suffering. High Priest Torkem…”
The religious leader stepped forward. He was a round man, with a large double chin and flat nose. He was bald except for a lock of white hair decorating the top of his head. Kyra’s stomach turned. Torkem raised his tearful brown eyes to the crowd and prayed to the Golden Gods: a prayer in the form of a lugubrious chant of submission. The crowd knelt, paying homage to the Gods, as was fitting. Kyra wanted to resist instead of joining in that act of submission, but the Executor’s spear pressed menacingly against her shoulder. She gave in, looking defiantly at the Executor. The slit on his helmet lit up and the blood-red eye met her gaze.
Kyra looked away, clenching her jaw.
“By the grace of the Gods, our people subsist and prosper,” the High Priest proclaimed. “We are on this earth to serve our lords, to do their divine will. That is our glorious duty. That is the true path we must follow. Whatever the Gods ask of us, that we must always do, since their word is law, and their will our duty.”
The High Priest gestured, and all bent to touch their foreheads to the ground, in a sign of total submission to the grace of the Gods.
“In their divine goodness they allow us to go on living. But our masters do not forget, nor do they forgive, when our corrupt hearts, blinded by power, dare to confront them and their benevolent designs. No, they do not forget, nor do they forgive this, their chosen people, for not accepting them a thousand years ago. Even so, the Golden, in their infinite divine kindness, allow us to go on living under their protective wings. Dear people, faithfully must we serve the Gods, since without their grace we would perish.”
Kyra felt sick at this message, which the clergy drummed into them again and again from childhood onwards. A message of servitude and slavery, a message she would never accept no matter how much this fat pompous priest proclaimed it to the four winds.
Torkem went over to the unfortunate girls and pointed at them with a clear expression of reproach, shaking his head visibly.
“Here you can see one more proof of their greatness and benevolence. Those who did not answer their summons, those who believed they could mock the wishes of the Golden, hang now for their sins, with their bodies marked by the sin committed.”
Torkem walked down to where Kyra and Yosane were standing. Pointing at them, he said with a broad smile:
“On the other hand those who did answer the summons as was their duty, those who were fortunate enough to be chosen by our Gods, as you can all see with your own eyes, are perfectly well,” he said, waving his hand toward Kyra and Yosane.
Kyra wanted to protest. She opened her mouth, her eyes burning with rage, but Torkem noticed. Swiftly, the cunning cleric moved to her side and held her tightly.
“If you say a single word I’ll have your tongue cut out and shoved down your throat. Then I’ll find your family and do the same to them,” he whispered in her ear.
Kyra was reduced to silence.
Torkem smiled at her broadly, then turned to the audience again.
“Our duty, the reason for our existence, is to serve the Gods. We are their people, and by their kindness we exist. We serve our Golden masters today and forever.” He raised his arms toward the Great Monolith and finished with another prayer, looking at the Eyes all the time as though seeking their approval.
Regent Sesmok straightened. “Return now to your tasks. Do not forget what you have seen here today. Remember that the benevolence of the Gods is not infinite, and their implacable justice will be felt. You will all leave now.”
The crowd began to disperse slowly, in silence.
Kyra gave Torkem a look of hatred, but he completely ignored her as if she did not exist, then went to join Regent Sesmok.
“Let them hang one more day,” Sesmok told Torkem. “I want everybody to witness what happens to those who don’t follow the Summons. But make sure they stay alive, they mustn’t die.”
“It shall be done,” Torkem said with a bow. “And these two?”
Sesmok shrugged. “They belong to the Gods, the Eyes will deal with them. They’re not our problem.” The two men turned on their heels and left.
Yosane went up to Kyra unnoticed, with the two Executors hovering over them.
“What do you think they’ll do to us now?”
“They’ve used us as a fake example to fool the people. Now our true destiny awaits us.”
“What?” Yosane asked. Her face was agonized.
“Let’s go!” the Executor ordered, and prodded Kyra with his spear.
Kyra made a fist to Yosane, to encourage her to be strong. They led them to the three Eyes at the top of the stairs. Behind them loomed the giant Monolith.
The Eye-of-the-God in the middle took a step forward.
“On your knees, slaves,” he ordered with a shriek.
The two girls knelt. Kyra risked a glance. The helmet emitted a sound and the silver diamond split into its two triangles, which opened to reveal the great Eye.
A beam of light ran along Yosane’s body, then along Kyra’s. She felt such revulsion that she closed her eyes,
Something cold touched her forehead.
And the night took her.
7
A muffled cry reached Ikai from the West. He pulled on the reins of his mount, and the obedient horse slowed down from its gallop. Puzzled, he turned in the saddle. The movement jerked his side painfully, warning him to be careful. He bent over, cringing, and swore under his breath. His wounds were still tender.
A new scream, higher pitched, was heard in the forest. Ikai scrutinized the trees but could see nothing. Night was falling and there was barely any light now. He hesitated, then went into the poplar wood, leading his horse warily. All his senses were alert. He took an arrow from his quiver and nocked his bow. He went on, guided by the brightness of a camp fire, until he reached a clearing. He stopped and looked on in silence. Two men were entertaining themselves by beating an old man they had ti
ed to a tree. Two others were searching the bloodied bodies of two men. Ikai studied them carefully. They were Pariahs: outlaws. They had assaulted these poor people and would leave no-one alive. Ikai knew that kind of men well, since his job was to hunt them down. Extremely dangerous men, since death pursued them night and day for the rest of their usually short lives. They had broken the laws of the Gods and were therefore condemned to death. They survived in hiding, always on the run, killing for food or coin. They lived in the most absolute desperation, and Ikai knew that the most dangerous man is the one who has nothing to lose.
He half-closed his eyes and analyzed the situation: intervene and try to save that poor man or not? It was a decision which put his life at risk and would delay him in his real purpose. He’s just an old man, he won’t live much longer anyway… I have a mission to carry out. I don’t even want to think what Kyra might be going through, he said to himself, considering the situation. He was about to turn away when he heard a new moan of pain from the poor man. Damn it! Damned conscience! he muttered and went into the clearing.
“Let him be!” he ordered in an authoritarian voice.
The four outlaws turned at once. One of them, big and muscular, with a long black beard, brandished a curved sword at Ikai.
“Go on your way and you’ll stay alive,” he said with an ironic grin.
“Look at me well, Pariah.”
“He’s a Hunter!” said a small man with a mocking expression who was wielding two knives.
They all looked around nervously, looking for new threats, but saw none.
The big man with the beard looked at Ikai in annoyance.
“A Hunter, alone? That’s a strange thing to see. Are you lost?”
“Leave that man alone and go on your way.”
A tall man with tangled hair and hooked nose unsheathed a sword. His partner, bald and thick-set, his face marked with a scar, did the same.
“You’re a Hunter, you’ll go after us and kill us one by one,” said the man with the mocking expression.
“Today I’m not here to hunt. Let him be and clear out. I won’t say that again.”
