Iron and Flame

by Alex Morgenstern

  “We must, the Oracle was clear,” insisted the chieftain.

  Rakscha groaned.

  “Why are you listening to a woman who hallucinates on mushrooms half the time. It’s just a dream. I’m down for the fight, but I’m worried that you follow the oracle without the council. This tribe is ruled by laws!”

  “If you knew what is at stake you wouldn’t complain,” Mundzuch said.

  “What is at stake? Tell me, I’m listening,” the young general asked.

  “If we fail, the entire world will fall. Our lands will be lost. We must trust in her Sword and follow her. Or die in eternal slavery.”

  “We will start preparing the armies for this week,” the chief said.

  Chapter XVIII - In Chains Until the End

  Kassius stretched his arms, walking out of the priest’s yurt. His head was dizzy and his body weak from the long fast. The outside of his tent was strangely silent, and the only two people outside were two armoured guardians. They stood with their arms folded, and when he walked toward the entrance, they did not give him space to pass.

  “Good evening.” He stood in front of them, expecting the guards to make way for him, but they did not move.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen . . .” he said, drafting a smile. “This is where I sleep.”

  Simultaneously, they grabbed him by the arms. He took a step back, trying to break free.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, trying to yank his arms away, but they held him tight. What was going on? Was it an attack because they were children of traitors or perhaps, they had felt offended by something one of their people had said.

  “Let me go! Let me go!” Kassius said. “What is going on?”

  The men pulled him back, dragging him, he tried to headbutt one of them, but received a slap in the cheek instead. He yanked his body out, but one of the guards took him to the ground, smashing his face, this time against the grass. He tried to lift himself up, but the guards held his wrists together. He felt strings circling around his arms, and binding him tight.

  “Get up, you rat,” they said. One of them kicked him in the ribs, and he clenched his teeth in pain.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” they said, forcing him to stand.

  The camp was strangely deserted at that time of the day, and Kassius’ screams seemed to fall upon deaf ears.

  They marched him outside of the camp, to a carp that had not been there before, covered by a canopy as wide as an amphitheatre. The inside was dark, filtering the light of the sun outside. In it, he saw all of his friends, all the ones who had escaped from Adachia, some leaning against the carp’s poles, some sitting cross legged on grass, surrounded by dozens of armed soldiers. He, however, did not see the slaves.

  “What is this?” Kassius said.

  “Stay here and be quiet,” the soldier said. He untied him and pushed Kassius into the centre, he stumbled and fell on one knee. Kassara ran to help him to his feet.

  “Did they hurt you?” she said.

  “I’m okay,” he said, turning toward them. “What is going on?” He raised his voice. “Why do you hold us in here, are you preparing a surprise birthday party or something.”

  “Shut up!” the soldiers said. “Steppe rats.”

  Kassius looked at Kassara with an arched eyebrow.

  “It’s even dumber than you think,” Kassara said. Kassius struggled to his feet again and checked for his friends, all of them were there, Tor, holding on to his book, Irema, her hair dishevelled and unruly, Raxana, Gitara, holding the crying baby, pampered by linens that were either brought by her or provided by the captors.

  “What are you doing, you fools?” Kassius yelled at the guards.

  “Now you shut up or I’ll shut you up!” the soldier who had been cursing him said, grasping his spear with both hands and brandishing it forward.

  “Cut it out, Yarnus,” said another soldier. “Don’t need to act all tough. Don’t you see these miserable fellows?”

  “You heard the counsellor!” Yarnus said to his comrade. “These people are dangerous.”

  “But they’re not even your enemy. They’re our sisters and our brothers, that they had wrong ideas doesn’t mean we should treat them like trash.”

  “You shut up, Tarnakas, you’re acting like a fool again.”

  “And you’re acting like a savage.”

  “Now give me a break, will ya?”

  Kassius lowered his head and looked at Kassara, shaking his head.

  “Why are we here again?” he asked.

  “Some idiot thought we are a bad influence because the kids started questioning the chieftain, they put us here to keep us quiet.”

  “What the hell? And what did the chieftain say? I mean, we can appeal to him, he wasn’t that bad at the beginning.”

  “The chieftain is dead.”

  ***

  The twelve counsellors of the Varalkian tribe wept like there was no tomorrow. The Holy Canopy had been erected the very same day. The Chieftain had passed away the night before, in his sleep. He had suffered chronic coughs and terrible abdominal pain. He simply stopped breathing.

  But Ghabas knew better. He knew something no one else knew. And there, surrounded by the smoke of sacred seeds, of the ringing voice of throat singers, the sorrow and the wails, he looked around. His colleagues were all enthralled by the smoke.

  “Oh, how great, how valiant was our great chieftain,” said Barganas, the oldest member of the Council. His hair had completely fallen off, but still sported a thick moustache that looked like a horizontal rendition of Jupiter’s thunderbolt. “Why, oh gods of the sky, why did you have to take him in such a hard season.”

  “Poor chieftain,” Ghabas muttered, coming close to his colleagues and sitting on his hunches. “Such a great man, so valiant. He had a hard time those last days. He was so . . . sickly, a very perilous disease came to such a man so quickly. I cannot believe it, anyway, may the gods guard him.”

  “Hail to our chieftain,” said another counsellor, thick and muscular, a huge patch of bald hair amid his red locks.

  “Ah, which reminds me.” Ghabas stood up and quietly left the group, where hundreds of people gathered around them. He turned his back on them and advanced slowly.

  “What is it, Ghabas?” the same man growled, as if offended by Ghabas’ lack of attention.

  “Let us prepare a toast in the memory of our great leader.” He reached for his wineskin and brought it to the dining table.

  Chapter XIX - North by Northwest

  “Ira, please pinch me, I must be dreaming,” Alana said, facing away from the thousand tents, looking at the vast formation of cavalrymen in thick iron armour, wielding frightening lances and round shields on their backs. Other sections had orderly seas of archers, with their long swords bound to their hips. Their banners were fluttered lightly, depicting a sigil-like symbol. To Alana, it looked like a goat’s head, and it was painted in red upon the golden flag. The young general who had walked away from the meeting ended up joining their fighting force, with 5,000 strong.

  Alana never thought she could be part of something so grand, nor that she would ever be in charge of such a large army. But it was happening, and she was more sure than ever, that victory would belong to her cause. Only one thing was missing, another thing that burnt her heart deeply. She herself did not have relatives in the Legion, but Gitara’s husband was up north, and many others who probably did not know what had happened to their families. Or worse, Alana thought they might have been purged themselves.

  The generals had gathered the next morning, and her meeting was different. She would not join them in their flight toward Varalkia, instead, she returned to Ira.

  “Ready to go back?” Ira asked with a huge smile.

  “I need to talk to you.” Alana lowered her glance.

  “Yes, tell me what you need.”

  Alana too
k a deep breath. She felt it was right, but was not sure if she would convince Ira.

  “I need you to ride north with me.”

  “Where, what are you talking about? But they’re ready for battle. Do you plan on abandoning them?”

  “I think I won’t join them. Listen, there are some Gadalian legionaries from my village up north. I’d like to visit them and bring them the news of what happened to our people.”

  “So you’re abandoning them.”

  “No, it’s something else I thought about. These troops, I told them to wait at Varalkia. I told them to meet with Kassara, and she will join their ranks and give them any information they may need. In the meantime, I need us to go to the north.”

  “North? Where? What are you talking about, Alana? What legion? You are going to miss the fight, you’re going to abandon your army and your people on a whim.”

  “Please. Maybe I can tell them to wait, but I feel bad for their sisters, and I don’t know if we’ll get a chance to see them. It’s made up of people from our village. Gitara’s husband, sons of some of the older women, brothers and fathers. I need to join them as soon as possible.”

  “And you think they will desert just because you tell them to? No matter what happens to their families, nobody wants to be in a military tribunal and get his head cut. Where are they even?”

  “Last time we received news of them they were in the frontier. Up north.”

  “The northern frontier? Where exactly? It extends for miles. Alana,” Ira sighed. “Now that is hard, it’s only about three hundred miles, from what I’ve heard.”

  Alana breathed deeply.

  “It’s my last chance, I don’t know if we’ll ever see them again. I don’t want to make a big fuss about it, but, please, if you can, let’s go.”

  Ira sighed.

  “Well, there’s not much else we can do.”

  “Let’s just look for them, if we can’t find them, let’s go back.”

  Chief Mundzuch had already arranged for a bag of provisions and tools for them, Ira was perplexed, and before the sunset, she put the mat and the saddle on her horse.

  “Get ready, my boy, it’s going to be a long ride.”

  Alana stood beside her, with a bag tied to a walking stick, her eyes were focused on the setting sun, and yearning to see her brothers. The army would depart the next morning, probably to arrive within a few days.

  “How long will it take us, Ira?”

  “We don’t even know where they are, at least six days to get to the edge of the border, if we ever do,” Ira seemed annoyed. Alana felt guilty, but there was no other way. She would probably not get them to join for the battle, and even if they did, it would take a month at least for them to return, but they needed to know.”

  That was way longer than she expected.

  “Fine,” Alana sighed, resigned.

  “Do you have a plan?” Ira asked.

  “I’ll figure it out with you as we go,” Alana said with a smile, but Ira did not return one.

  “Have you told them? We better go as soon as possible. Get ready.”

  Ira climbed the saddle and jumped up rapidly, the horse neighed, she extended her hand, and Alana took it, she put a foot through the stirrup and grasped Ira’s arm, she sat behind her, their bodies pressed together in the small saddle, her chest against Ira’s hard bow of bone and her long unwashed hair. “Take a last look at your army.”

  Alana looked at the endless sea of warriors, she whispered a farewell, and a timid prayer to Ares for their victory.

  She looked at the red sun ahead.

  “Ready,” Alana said, and Ira spurred hard, pulling the bridle, and her horse dashed forth into the fields.

  They rode across through the afternoon hours, and when the waxing moon appeared in heaven, and the Eveningstar shone proudly, they rested again under the stars. Ira did not talk much those days, she lied down and pretended to sleep, while Alana retreated a few feet away and practised with her sword until sweat bather her sleeping clothes.

  Alana realised she had to savour those moments, for after their travels ended, she would have to face war and horror again. Ira rested, her pale face expressionless and dim. Alana figured she did not want to talk to her. Was it because of a change in plans?

  “Ira, are you alright?” she asked.

  Ira took a deep breath and looked at her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look a bit distraught. Can I help you in any way?”

  Ira sighed, leaning her head on her palm.

  “I’m fine. It’s one of those moments where you question things.”

  Alana sat beside her.

  “I wish I could make you feel better.”

  Ira changed the topic entirely.

  “Please leave me alone.”

  Alana blinked, feeling as if she had been pushed off the horse.

  “It’s nothing personal, I just feel like being alone, for now.”

  “I understand,” Alana said. “I just don’t want you to feel lonely, you helped me when I . . .”

  “Please, Alana.”

  Alana stood up, and turned to her sword to practice. But her mind was not at rest. Had it been the sudden change of plans? She hated seeing Ira like that, but patience could be the answer.

  As she glanced at the steppe and the mountains in the distance, she wondered how it would be. She had met Teutish and Galish men and women before, some had travelled to the markets, and a couple of them had wounded Kassius the previous winter, but she knew they were not all bad. They couldn’t be.

  After a long sleep, and the rays of the sun caressing her face, they gathered their things and rode again. The road seemed endless, and Alana’s uncertainty grew bigger each moment.

  Upon a point, instead of the wide grasslands, the air shifted, became fresher and heavier, and they encountered sparse forests of evergreens and oaks. They saw villages of small houses built along the riverside, and men with colourful tattoos and women with flowers in their hair. They passed undisturbed, never stopping except when it was time for lunch, and when either of them or the horse got thirsty.

  The sun was almost setting on their second day, when they passed through a homely village where the inhabitants had constructed a long orchard with red and purple flowers.

  Ira stopped along the road and asked where the Wall was, and where she could buy cheese. After eating some spiced goat cheese, her mood changed entirely.

  “These are the people of Dana,” Ira had said, leaning on a fence by the river side, holding her horse by the bridle. “They’re all around, from here to the lands beyond the Western Sea, and they really know how to make good cheese.”

  “I’m curious,” Alana said.

  Ira showed her a small bag tied up with a small pink lace, she untied it, and a salty smell filled the air. The cheese was pale and yellowish, Alana grabbed her with two fingers and bit it softly. It was salty and lightly pungent.

  “Very nice,” she said, after swallowing.

  “I’ve been trying to ask the seller how they make it, he won’t tell me.”

  “The flavour is really unique,” Alana said, licking her fingers.

  Ira took a deep breath.

  “That’s my dream, you know? One day.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ira had a big smile.

  “My mother was a dairy farmer, you know. She didn’t make special cheese, not any special variety, but to me, she made the most delicious cheese in the world. I cannot replicate her power, but I’d love to master the art of cheesemaking, and share the best flavours from every corner of the world. I don’t care about money, but if I can make people in Parzia savour Northern Cheese, and vice versa, I could be happy. I need to get this man to tell me the secret.”

  “Why don’t you marry him?” Alana muttered with a chuckle.

  Ira’s face morphed, her smile disappeared, and she cleared her throat.

&nb
sp; “Well, it’s time to go,” she said, putting the bag away and rushing to mount the horse.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Alana blinked in surprise.

  “Let’s get going!” Ira said sternly. Alana nodded and pulled herself up the saddle. She spurred the and rode out of the village, into the sparse forest.

  “I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” Alana muttered.

  “It’s okay,” Ira said. “It’s nothing.”

  “Well, your mood changed when I mentioned marriage. I was just joking.”

  Ira braced completely.

  “Alana,” Ira said sternly. “It’s not something I pursued. I don’t like what you implied.”

  “I was just joking!”

  “I do not need you to joke like that.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean it.”

  “It’s not bad, it’s what people say about me.”

  “Why should you care about what people say?”

  “Why? Alana, because they say it, what can I say.”

  “Well, if it’s not true why should you worry?”

  “Enough talk for today,” Ira said, as they left the sleepy village.

  Chapter XX - The Water of Life

  “I am the senior most member of this council,” said Yarovas, the white haired warrior who had served as a counsellor for thirty years. The attendants remained cross-legged inside the yurt. Ghabas observed their reactions, and all of them looked at the old man. “With respect to our ancestors and past leaders, let me offer a sound suggestion backed by experience.”

  “Go ahead, Yarovas,” said a woman.

  “Very well,” Ghabas said, sitting cross-legged in the circle of counsellors.

  “As your senior-most member,” Yarovas said. “And since there is no defined method of choosing a new leader in this tribe, I would humbly accept the leadership of this tribe.”

  “You, Yarovas? You? Why you? You’re not the best of us,” Ghabas muttered.