by Casey Eanes
They kept walking, and after another hour Kull was glad to put the grim ridge behind them. Wael stopped without warning and turned to Kull, his face calculating. Even after fighting off a horde of Morels and leading them through the desert the man still seemed fresh and full of energy. Kull read Wael’s face. Something was wrong.
"What is it, Wael?"
The monk spoke. “We have a problem, Kull. There’s something we must do to continue safely.” Rot, in a show of strange understanding, let out a high-pitched whine.
“Problem? What kind of problem?” Kull asked.
Wael’s response was quick and calm, “You, Kull.”
“Me?” Kull was shocked. “What do you mean?” His thoughts swirled to his defense. “If I am such a problem, why did you even bother to bring me in the first place?!“
Wael placed a hand on Kull’s shoulder.
“Calm down. You are a Lottian. Your appearance is that of a Lottian. Hangman’s Pass marks the border of the Groganlands. You have no reason to be here in a time of war. Arik is a licensed transporter and my source of transportation. He is known, but you, Kull...for you I had no answer for your presence. Until now.”
Wael unsheathed his knife and unrolled his white, pristine outer robe. He cut at the robe’s seams.
"What are you doing?" Kull asked as he tried to examine Wael’s handiwork.
Wael finished cutting and handed the long stretch of cloth to him. “Put this on," he said.
Without notice, Wael ran his hand through Kull's thick brown hair. “Next we need to cut your hair. The Alephian order commands one must keep their head shaved.”
In that moment Kull resigned himself to what was happening. If he was going to go any farther this would be the cost. Better to be bald than on display, strung up on Hangman’s Pass.
He nodded. “Do it. Whatever it takes, let’s just hurry up and get there. I don’t want them dragging Dad to that ledge.”
"As you wish." Wael held out his blade and raked it over Kull’s head with skillful precision.
***
Kull could not feel any more out of place standing beneath the shadows of Rhuddenhall’s massive gates. He was bald, his head shining like a beacon in the desert sun, with ash smeared across his face, wrapped in the strange white garb of a monk. They slowly approached the massive city built with rock, cement, and steel. Gods above, what an ugly place. The Red City baked like a scab in the desert sun, keeping its watch over the once contested border of the Groganlands and Riht. Beyond the Red City, filling the horizon with gray giant peaks of treacherous mountain ranges, laid the Groganlands. This country was nothing like his own; all of it looked dead, dry, inhospitable, and barren. His only comfort was the weight of his rifle strapped against his back.
The canyon gate was empty. There were no guards posted and no border patrols to contend with. In fact, it appeared that the gate was abandoned, its doors standing wide open. This was not what Kull expected. Fifty foot gates weren’t made to stand open unguarded.
The three stood stunned as they examined the gate, confused by the lack of military presence until Wael spoke up. "Stop here. Wait on my command."
They stopped meters away from the gate. No one spoke. No one moved. Kull’s eyes darted across the canyon walls, searching for a sign of a hidden sentry, but he saw nothing. Something wasn't right.
The snap of gunfire broke the silence. One round gave way to another as a fresh burst of violence filled the air. Screams followed the gunfire and an explosion echoed off the canyon wall, adding to the chaos. Kull and Arik scrambled for cover, but there was none to be found. They were trapped, and there was nowhere to go. Kull lay prone on the red dirt and fumbled for his rifle, only to see Wael still standing, a tall pillar of resolute peace.
"Get up." Wael lowered his arm down to Kull and pulled him up to his feet. "Those shots were not meant for us."
"What?"
Kull tried to make sense of the sounds as another shot popped off. Wael spoke again. "The violence is coming from within Rhuddenhall.” The monk’s face was grave. “We must hurry."
Wael waved for them to press through the gates. Kull gingerly sprinted behind Wael, Rot, and Arik as they dove through the open mouth into the Groganlands’ capital. He was ready for whatever was waiting for him; anger and adrenaline fueled his resolve.
You came to my home and burned it to the ground. You murdered my people. You stole my father from me and wrecked my life. I am here to return the favor.
Wael whispered to Kull as they made their way down the main cobblestone street, “Stay close to me! I have no idea what we are running into.” Rot’s hackles rose as he kept up with his master.
Arik spoke in disbelief as they made their way through the ruined and littered streets, his voice filled with fear. "What happened here?"
The sound of gunfire and explosions bellowed again as the three pressed down the long street lined with single story cement structures. Pillbox buildings dotted the streets and led to a massive courtyard that was glowing red with fire. The heart of the city was in flames.
Rot’s back arched fully and a rumble of growls escaped from behind his fangs. Wael pointed to a side street, directing them to follow him as they darted for cover. Arik and Kull followed close behind Wael and Rot as they traveled deeper into the city. The street offered a narrow alley between the cement boxes that ran parallel with the main street. A small channel of dark, oily water ran down the center of the alley through a shallow trough dug between the buildings. The narrow channel was littered with debris and trash; boxes, garbage, and scrap bits of broken machinery. At the end of the alley Kull could catch a glimpse of the churning chaos taking place in an adjacent courtyard.
Civilian men and women were firing onto armored guards who stood above them guarding a massive complex overlooking the square. The rioters created a barricade of burning vehicles, a wall of fire that covered the square with a blanket of smoke. The smoke made it difficult to lock onto any one figure as they darted across it, slipping in and out of view like gray phantoms. Each of the men and women wore strips of tattered red cloth across their face or arms.
Some of the Red Cloths fired on the army that was gathered at the far end of the square while others lay dead in pools of their own blood. The attackers were not any part of the Lottian forces. They were not from Elum, or even Riht. They were some new entity, but from the look of their features they appeared to be Grogan. The reality left Kull speechless. The Grogans were killing one another.
Kull pushed next to Wael and spoke just loud enough to be heard, “What is happening? We were only out in the desert a few days. This is insane!”
Wael’s wide eyes were full of dread. “I don’t know. This is not what I expected.” Kull's fears escalated into panic. What were they going to do? If they were killing one another, what chance did his dad have?
Wael glanced back down the alley and then to Arik.
“Arik, did you hear anything on the radio about this on our way in?”
“The radio?” Arik tried to smile, “That ol’ truck hasn’t had a working radio for years.”
Kull slipped back to the edge of the alley to glance back out over the square, hoping to uncover a clue as to what started the infighting. Kull spoke over the chaos, his mind full of disbelief. “They wage war on all of Candor, and it's still not enough for them. So now, they kill each other.”
A strange voice answered, “You’re right. We don’t mind killing anyone. Not even a child, such as yourself.”
Kull spun around to be greeted by the barrels of five pistols trained on him. A man with a red bandana wrapped around his face grunted and lifted his gun toward Kull’s face. His bright green eyes bore into him. Kull glanced quickly back. The Red Bandanas surrounded them all in a flash.
Their leader spoke, still holding his gun at Kull’s head. “How about you explain to me what a Preost monk, his runt, and some Lottian slug are doing in Rhuddenhall before I put a bullet in your brain?"
&
nbsp; Wael answered, “We are here for peace. We seek to speak with…”
“Shut it, monk,” the man interrupted, “I want to hear it from your punk kid and his smart mouth.”
Kull’s mouth went dry with fear. The bandanna man laughed. “Oh…now I see your lips are not as loose as before. The cat must have gotten your tongue.”
The man’s eyes were filled with hateful fire and pride. Kull knew that this man would probably enjoy killing them and then go about his day killing his neighbors without a second thought. Kull stepped forward and locked eyes with the masked man, looking past the gun's barrel aimed at his forehead.
Wael tried to step forward and put himself between Kull and the interrogator.
“I will speak for the boy. I am his elder. He does not understand.”
One of the larger grunts beside the leader swung the butt of his rifle into the side of Wael’s head and sent him sprawling to the ground. Rot lunged for the soldier, pinning him to the ground and flashing his fangs. Low rumbling growls paraded out of the dog as the man below him screamed in a panic.
"Call your dog off, monk!" the green-eyed leader commanded.
Wael calmly called for Rot, and the beast left the man lying on the ground and returned to his master. Wael stood, holding his head with pain.
The leader spoke. "If that dog lunges again, all of you are dead. Do you understand?”
Wael said nothing, but nodded, still holding his head. To Kull’s surprise, the leader grabbed Wael’s attacker and stood him up, only to throw a hard fist in his face. He fell to the ground as his leader sent a barrage of blows over him, cursing him. The man was lying on the ground in a heap until his leader gave one final swift kick to his ribs that let out a deafening crack of bone.
The leader turned back to the party and spoke, “I apologize for my colleague’s rudeness to you, monk, but I told you I want the boy to speak. Now this is your last chance before you all die.”
Wael conceded and nodded at Kull. Kull stepped forward with the weight of their lives on his shoulders. His answer would either bring them closer to his father or kill them.
Suddenly the words flowed out of his mouth like a cool stream. Kull heard his voice, but his mind felt as if it had taken a backseat to whatever was happening. “We are here for peace. We have come to seek counsel with Hagan, leader of the mighty Grogans.”
The alley fell silent. The sound of explosions and gunfire was absorbed by the vacuum caused by Kull's strange words. Kull looked around into all the attackers’ faces and saw something he had not expected: shame.
The leader of the pack blinked and lowered his pistol. "Hagan is dead, boy. The Grogan Council has placed surrogates over our Realm and they have exiled General Willyn Kara."
That name. Where had Kull heard that name? As Kull tried to register what he had been told, Wael spoke again, ignoring the small river of blood flowing down his forehead. "And who do you represent? Whose cause have you taken?"
The masked man let out a low chuckle. "Isn't it obvious? We support the rightful rule of Willyn. We would have killed you had the boy not mentioned the name of Hagan. The Grogan Council has crossed the line. We believe they killed Hagan and now are trying to dispose themselves of Willyn. We, the Grogan people, will not stand for such treachery."
The men around them nodded their heads and shouted, some firing their guns into the air. Their anger, solidarity, and frustration reemerged again in full force, and Kull glanced at Arik. He could see the fear growing on his face.
What is Wael doing?
Wael ignored the displays of aggression and continued, “Have you had any talks with the Council? Have any terms been set?"
The Red leader strutted up to Wael and pulled down his bandana, revealing a long trenched scar crossing his face. He spat, his whole body vibrating with rebellion.
"What does it look like to you, monk? No, there have been no talks with those traitors. They motioned to surrogate and all of Rhuddenhall erupted into chaos. Even now we have armies marching down from Candor's Spine to retake the city and put Willyn Kara on the Sar’s throne. There will be no talks until all of the Council hang from the Pass. We'll let Aleph sort them out.”
Laughter and snickers filled the alley, but Wael still showed no signs of anxiety. Kull wondered what could make this man so brave in the face of this bloodthirsty mob.
“You speak of Aleph. I am Wael, and I serve as the Mastermonk of Preost. Aleph is my master.” The air’s electricity was grounded. “As my protégé said, we come to bring peace to this land, and bring it in the name of Aleph. Name your terms, and I will meet with your Council. I come on Lotte’s behalf, but I will represent your party as well, if you will have me.”
Silence flushed the alley. The Reds stood, glancing at one another as the volleys of bullets and explosions continued to erupt in the background. All of the Reds looked to their leader, watching him as he stared at Wael, considering his response.
The Red leader spoke, “What then, Mastermonk, do you suggest?”
“I would suggest that you and your men cease fire immediately and allow me and my party to convene with the Grogan Council members. Name your terms to me and I will represent you. You must give peace a chance.”
No one spoke as the leader stared into the dirt in front of Wael’s feet. He raised his head with a furrowed brow and spat on the ground. “There will be no peace. My men will ensure your safe passage on our territory, Mastermonk, as a matter of our respect for you, but we do not seek your representation. Go and represent Lotte, but you will not represent us.” The leader then stuck his finger in Arik’s direction, “And what of this one? He doesn’t look like any monk to me.”
Arik raised his hands in the air and motioned to his pocket, “I am a registered transporter, got my papers right here. I don’t care one bit about your Council and I prefer not to be tied up in any wars. I won’t be any problem so long as you can get me home. I was just the monk’s ride here until my truck got busted up.”
The man tightened the bandana back around his face as he called for one of his followers, “Take him to the trains and let him ride back with the baggers.” The Leader’s eyes smiled menacingly. “They shouldn’t mind his company.”
Arik sighed and dropped his head, “This trip just keeps getting better and better. Morels, desert hikes, a civil war, and now a bunch of stinking baggers.” He looked back at Wael and Kull. “Good luck, you two.”
Wael nodded. Kull spoke, “Take care, Arik.”
Arik let out a chuckle. “I’ll have to. My foreman probably won’t believe the yarn I have to tell. He don’t take too kindly to canceled shipment, Morels or not.” A smile flashed on his face. “Mind that beast. He’s liable to get you into trouble.”
Rot shook the nub that served as his tail as Wael rubbed the scruff of hair on his head. The monk whispered to Rot, and the beast began to follow Arik and his escort.
“Actually, Arik, from here I need you to watch Rot. Deliver him to Arthur Ewing. He should be in Vale, and he won’t mind Rot’s company,” said Wael.
Arik’s face twisted in confusion as he spoke, “I don’t know that you want to trust that dog to me. He’s liable to run off.”
“He will stay right by your side,” said Wael, “He is safe with you, and he will keep you safe on your journey back to Lotte.”
Arik looked at the dog, his eyes full of questions. Finally he nodded. “I’ll give him to Ewing.” Without another word Arik left with Rot trailing behind. Wael raised his hand, giving a silent blessing to both Arik and his trusted friend, Rot.
“Touching.” The Red leader looked back to Wael.
Wael spoke, his eyes resting on the determined Red leader, “For seeing our transport back to safety, you have my thanks. You are generous, and I will be generous in turn. My offer still stands. For Aleph’s sake, may I represent you before the Council or not?”
The leader’s voice huffed from under the bandana, “My answer remains firm. Thank you for the offer, but
we don’t need your services, Mastermonk. We will handle this problem on our own. The peace of Grogans is purchased in blood, and we seek it to be paid in full.” All the men screamed in unison, and Kull felt a cloak of darkness fall over the alleyway.
Wael spoke, his voice rumbling over the cheers of the Reds’ cries, shaking his head with contempt. He pointed his finger in the leader’s face and whispered with electric intensity.
“That is your decision. Know that I have come to offer you Aleph’s blessing and you have rejected it. Twice. It will not be offered a third time. May Aleph have mercy on you all.”
The Reds exchanged glances but remained silent.
