He only thought of his wife Gitara, and the child that was probably already born. He had a child, he had to press on and see him or her. He wondered what it may look like, and felt warmth in his heart. Was he being foolish? Wouldn’t it be better to turn back?
As they marched on, Askar heard whispers around him, along with whistles too regular to belong to springtime birds. They all knew what it was.
Elkas lifted his sword, and the legionaries assembled, their shields pressed together, their knees bent, their spears pressing out, not letting anything in.
“We come in peace,” Elkas lifted his sword from the centre of the circle. And then they saw them through their shields: barbarians with long yellow hair, braided beards, and clothes made of animal hides. One of them, probably their chieftain, wore a horned helmet of bronze, his shield was round and held a long spear with runic inscriptions on his right.
“Stop!” the chieftain said to their men. He looked at the legionaries, who did not move out of their formation. “You are our enemies,” he said. “And have come into our territory, not invited, not expected. Now tell us why we should let you out and not kill you.”
“We come not to fight!” Elkas exclaimed. “We have seen a monster spring from the earth and kill our commander.”
They heard laughter around them. But one of them silenced them in his own language. Then, they started to argue. The legionaries looked at each other from within the formation. What was about to happen?
“Our friend here believes you,” the chieftain said.
“He does?” Elkas said. “Let us pass; we are just looking for the beast. We wish to slay it. And you may come with us, we can establish a truce. I am in charge now that my commander has died.”
“Fine,” the chieftain said.
Elkas looked at his companions and told them to lower their arms. They complied.
“But we will escort you to the village,” the soldier said.
“Indeed,” Elkas muttered. Askar looked around as the barbarian sentinels sprung out, some descending from the trees, others emerging from the foliage. He counted twelve of them.
“So,” the chieftain said. “Come out and speak like a man.”
Elkas ordered them to disband, and Askar cursed in his mind. It was a bad idea. The formation dissolved, and Elkas stood in the middle. The chieftain walked on, and looked Elkas in the eye. “What is troubling about this giant?”
“I know not what it may do, but it possesses great strength,” Elkas said. “I have seen it, and my comrade here saw it.”
“Fine,” the chieftain grinned. “Let us meet the giant,” he said with a grin. Askar narrowed his eyes, there was something off about those men. He did not know much about those tribes, but he knew many of them hated the Empire. And for good reasons. They, as foreign legionaries did not care much about that, they only did their job and defended remote posts, but wearing that armour and uniform marked them all in the same way.
They started to march once again, up into the ever deep forest.
Then, out of a sudden, Askar heard something buzz, he turned in fright as a blade quickly approached his head. He tried to dodge, lifting his shield and spear, but he felt a dull pain on the side of his head, and the sound around him faded.
Chapter VIII - The Omen
A movable den-like cage, wide as a yurt, had been prepared for Arctus, the bear cub, with padded pillows and hay for him to spend the night. Tor took care of him feeding him fish and berries, and erected a wide canopy over him so that he could spend the night, like a circus carp. The hungry children of the tribe gathered around him, glancing curiously at the cub. Arctus stepped back nervously on its furry paws.
“Hey, kids.” Alana approached them from behind, crossing her arms. “Leave him alone, he’s not used to strangers.”
The kids looked up at her and then returned their glance to the cub.
“Come on, I’m not joking,” she said, clapping her hands. Tor had gotten up from the other side, but as he was the same size as most kids, and could not talk, he was ignored by the children.
“I’m serious, kids, get out or I’ll call your parents.”
“Children,” Kassius’ voice called from behind them. He leaned in, taller than any head in the yurt, his green eyes glittering with peace of mind. “Go talk to your parents, there’s something wonderful that we will show them tomorrow. Something amazing.”
“What is it?” asked a black haired girl.
“It’s a surprise,” he said, faking a smile.
“Hey!” A pale kid with piercing blue eyes looked up at him. “Father said you are the children of traitors.”
The comment made Alana blink in surprise, and anger surged like a cauldron beginning to boil. Alana stepped forward.
“Hey, you, kid. What are you saying?” She faced the boy.
He looked puny, ignorant.
She could not really blame him, but what he had said deserved a lesson. “Tell your father that tomorrow we will see who is the traitor, and who really loves our people.”
“Alana.” Kassius looked down at her, with a frown. “It’s fine, it’s just a kid.”
“Go tell him! Tomorrow we will see who the traitors are. I hope that if he talks the talk, he can walk the walk. Now get out, leave us alone.” She clapped her hands, and the kids went away, sighing and chatting about how the bear was smaller than they thought, and looked incapable of doing anything.
Alana clenched her teeth, and looked up at Kassius.
“Where were you?” she asked.
“With the Priest of Mercury. He told me everything.”
She sighed. “So much for privacy,” Alana muttered.
“The priest doesn’t know what you were talking about,” he said, looking back at her. She walked to the entrance of the carp and shut the curtains, then she looked at Tor, who was awkwardly walking out.
“Tor, you can stay if you want,” she said.
He shook his head and went right for the door and disappeared through the curtains.
“And there he went,” Alana muttered.
“Is he still upset?” Kassius asked.
She sighed. “I don’t know, it’s hard to tell.”
“And have you seen the slaves, by any chance?”
“They’re around there, they offered to help somebody, but they’re not with us.”
“I see. Just asking.” He sighed. “You look troubled.” Alana noticed the tension in his green eyes and mouth, as his lips curled down.
She looked up into his deep eyes.
“What can I tell you that you don’t know? He didn’t want to help,” she said. “He said that his people are too weak, too few, that they are not enough to form a real army.”
Kassius turned his head away and clenched his teeth.
“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” he asked.
“I thought you were the one with the plan.”
Kassius cleared his throat, he lowered his glance.
“It depends. Have you thought of anything?”
“I mean.” Alana cleared her throat. “Maybe we can get Kassara to give a speech and talk about the sword. Maybe, if they’re like we were and trust in the gods.”
Kassius sighed. “I talked to the priest,” he said. “He says they have forgotten the gods. People are angry. They are dying. The children you just saw lost their fathers and mothers as well, their grandparents. They lost their little brothers, they are now used to death, but curse their life with them. The priest told me they could find no deliverance.”
“Well, then what? Have you seen the future? Has he seen anything?”
Kassius lowered his head.
“I’m afraid not. He mentioned the giants, though.”
“What did he see?”
“He saw something walking through the land, towering over the houses like an army catapult, its bones sticking out of its back, grey like cast iron, and around him, all the world
was on fire.”
“That doesn’t help,” Alana said, shaking her head. “Anyway, we must do it.”
“You’ve never been only about doing Alana, you like to plan.”
“Well, how has my life been up to this point, all has been based on hope and luck, or protection by fate. Look at him,” She pointed at the bear cub. “It’s so cute, look at him,” she said with a giggle. She walked to the edge of the carp and extracted a piece of fish that was wrapped on a hemp bag, below the stakes. Half a dozen buzzing flies circled over it. It was, however, still wet and slippery.
“Imagine if her mother wouldn’t have been there at that time, at the exact time and place.”
“Of course, it was a bear Goddess,” Kassius said.
“Yes, like you said,” she whispered, opening the small door. “It was our protector, our guide.”
“What are you saying?”
“That as long as this bear lives, and we protect it, there will be hope.”
Alana stepped into the cage and called the bear out with her hand, she knelt over the mounds of clay, holding the fish.
“Arctus,” she said. “Come here, little boy.”
The bear advanced slowly. He was still smaller than Alana when on her knees, with his bright black eyes sparkling, its strong chestnut hair shiny, with fluffy ears and a wet snout. It snatched the fish in its mouth, and it immediately bled. The bear swallowed it, and remained closed to her, Alana wrapped her arms around it, and it responded by imitating her, encircling her with his black paws and furry warm arms. She petted its head, as though it was a dog. “Good boy,” she said. “How I miss your dog, Arcturus; he was also a good boy.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me of that,” Kassius muttered. “So? We will show them the sword. Is that it?” Kassius approached, lowering his head.
“I told them it is the sign to prove this is righteous.”
“By sign do you mean the sword?”
Alana nodded.
Kassius scratched his messy hair.
“I fear they may not believe us. Then what?”
“Then, we wait, we go somewhere else, we look for our army.”
“What if there’s no army. What if we have to fight all alone.”
“Someone in the world will help us.” She started playing fetch with the bear, throwing an orange sized stone to the edge of the cage. The bear went back and forth with the stone between its teeth. “Kassius, I hate to remind you about this, but we forged the sword, we thought it was not possible, but we found it. It’s not the same sword, right, but it was built in the same way. And you even received the thunderbolt of Venus. You saw it in a dream and found it. There’s our proof. We can keep doing it. It doesn’t matter if we get only one person to this cause in this village, we go to another one, we find one, and another one. I am determined not to give up.”
She got up.
“He’s not as energetic as before,” she said. “I’m gonna see if they have some honey for him.”
“Hey!” Kassius blocked her way. “Listen, I am determined too . . . but—”
Alana threw herself into his arms, her forehead against his collarbone. His long fingers caressed her hair.
She lifted her head up, he was smiling, but his eyes were far away. She straightened her body and kissed him lightly on the lips.
He looked straight at her, his arms wrapped around her hips, and they kissed again, and the world seemed to fade around them.
***
The evening came, and there was barely any food. They ate better at the barracks. At the camp they only had berries and skinny river fish, and the driest slice of horse sausage she’d ever tried. And they didn’t even offer her yogurt or milk.
“Be careful when eating their food,” Kassius had said.
Alana raised her brows. “Why?”
“I have a feeling the food may be contaminated.”
“What do you mean? Has anyone poisoned it?”
“Everybody’s sick. Maybe it’s the food or the water. I don’t mean poison, but sickness.”
Irema’s voice was heard behind them.
“What’s that supposed to mean.”
Kassius sighed, as if it was too hard to explain.
“I’ve read that this is common during wars. All the soldiers get sick and die. There’s something that gets passed on, through their hands or water, like an essence. Especially if there’s rats and ticks around.”
“That is strange, but it makes sense,” Irema muttered.
Alana eyed Irema in the corner.
“How are you feeling?” Alana asked.
“Not good.”
Irema sighed.
“People are nice here, but, it’s as if they have nothing to live for.”
The sun rose the next morning, illuminating the fields and a gathering crowd. The main council of leaders stood in the front, including chieftain Varalkas, the priest of Jupiter and a group of tall, older men and women with scars in their faces and arms. Veterans of the Dragon War.
Behind them, the mass of villagers slowly gathered with their sickly children in arms, they murmured about who these men and women were. Alana heard the word traitors from time to time, some talked pitifully about what the Empire had done to them.
Alana and Kassius stood in the centre of a gathering circle. A tall stone menhir towered above them, its upper portion carved like a man’s face.
Kassius stepped forward, right beneath the menhir’s shadow, with the Sword of Ares wrapped in fur from the wolves they had slain in the winter. Raxana was close to them, her eyes fixed on the women who combated by her side in the previous decade.
When they were all gathered, Varalkas stood up in front of the circle, raising his arms and silencing the multitude. His expression was stern, and an old cuirass covered his broad body.
“Men and women of our tribe, loyal sounds and daughters of Gadal.” His voice was commanding, different from the distanced bellow Alana heard in his yurt. “Fifteen years ago, we split from our brothers and sisters. They did so in the name of peace, and you followed us. Please listen with an open soul.”
Alana stared. He was not calling for treason as some men and women had. She scanned through the multitude, some sturdy men and women murmured amongst themselves. Then, she caught someone staring unflinchingly at her, a woman of about thirty five years, standing among the council members in the front. Her hair was long, black, and unruly. Her pale face was sprinkled with freckles and her eyes were blue and piercing. A long scar could be partly seen crossing her collarbone, fading into her purple hemp dress.
She winked an eye at Alana and Alana moved her eyes away immediately.
Suddenly, she heard Kassius’ voice in her ear. “Ready?”
Alana nodded.
She cleared her throat. “Fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters of my blood. I am Alana of Adachia, daughter of General Ileria, the Hero of Tuschania, and of Alan, the Master Craftsman.”
She heard the word traitor, and she felt an urge to respond. No, that was not the way, she had to prove it with her actions.
“To the ones who knew my father, no matter what opinion you had of him. Let me tell you, he died fighting against her true enemy, the Unholy Itruschian Empire. For years, as many other men and women who fought by your side, we trusted them blindly, we trusted their peace. But now, we have seen their true colours. Many rumours have reached you, of that I am certain.”
“They got what they deserved,” a voice at the back of the crowd said.
She tensed her teeth and took a deep breath. “And do you deserve losing your children to disease? We, in this world, are subject to pain. The women who ride with me were chained to a wall for days, and yet, we broke free. Do you know why? Because the gods in the sky rejoice in struggle, they bless the few who stand against many. The ones who fall, wounded and hurt, and rise to battle, no matter what the cost is. And now, our sisters are being enslaved, their lands taken, th
eir families torn in the bloodiest way, the innocence of your nieces and grand daughters. Taken and sold. Your sons massacred. Many of you say you are not strong enough. Are we? Ten women and two men? We have killed their governor, the gods are on our side. And we will finally achieve the dream of our old Chieftain, drive back the oppressors and make our people free. Forever.”
Alana focused on the multitude and noticed people nodding, some shaking their heads, some families arguing, men talking to their wives passionately, one of them pointing at the sick child in her arms.
Alana raised her hands. “And in these hours where my husband and I were in the forest, a vision came to him. We were instructed to rebuild the Sword of Ares. The God of War guided my husband to a cave in the bowels of the earth, where he found the gem of legends. The Thunderbolt of Venus. With that sign and this magical sword, we have been promised victory!”
“Hail Chieftain Alana!” Raxana, Kassara, and the other members of her tribe lifted their right fists on high and fell to their knees.
Kassius presented the wrapped blade to her, and she untied it, dropping the furs on the grass and lifting the sword with one hand.
“All I ask of you is to join me and my beloved friends in liberating our people! Who is with me?” she asked, lifting her arm again. She counted the fists that responded—about a dozen. Not enough to raise an army.
“Aye!” a few sparse voices said.
“Let us see that sword, daughter of Alan!” One of the council members, a fat man with piercing green eyes and a green coat raised his hand. “Is that really the Sword of Ares?”
“Yes, it has been forged again, according to the sacred texts.”
The council member whispered in the ear of another fellow, a thick man with a wide moustache and dark brown hair, flowing down to his shoulders. The man stepped forward. A leather apron covered his body, marking him as a blacksmith.
“Hand it to me, let me take a look at the sword you speak of.”
“Yes,” she said, handing it over to him.
The man grasped the handle, examined the crosshead, then whirled the sword with his wrist.
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