"Ultimately, it was only a matter of time before the war would end, and Tiburon would be forever known by a new title; the title of, First Emperor. After the war, fearing that the power of his world changing weapon would be somehow used against him due to likely future rebellion, Tiburon decreed, that all weapons which were crafted to use the magical black dust, which was called black powder, were to be destroyed. He then killed all, with the exception Mara, who had the knowledge of the powder's crafting, and forbid all creation or understanding of the black dust which could somehow amplify fire to cause untold destruction. Long story short, all which the king had bid, had been done successfully, and two war-less years then followed; years filled with much change. But, Mara would not be satisfied until her own dark goals were completed. She spent those two years planning, and at her chosen time she launched a coup. But, overlooking a few important details due to pride and overconfidence, Mara only sat on the throne for ten days before Tiburon overcame her. After retaking his throne Tiburon put Mara in a special prison, locking her away, never to be seen or heard from again. Upon Mara's failed cue she was given a mocking title by the public; she was thereafter infamously known as the Empress. But, what most don't know is that over five hundred years later she still lives, locked in that prison to this day, guarded by legions; kept there all along just in case those who ruled the Empire would once again need use of her knowledge to re-create her unstoppable weapon. It's a shame the rebels don't know, for if they did, they would understand that as long as she still lives, the Empire cannot be beaten. And because of that, things will never again be the way they once were.”
Silence came as Salius took in all of the information which had just been given to him. It was overwhelming, but as he pondered, three questions came to his mind. So, facing Planter, he spoke, “Ok, first, how could you possibly know all of this? Second, how can any man or woman live over a hundred years? And finally, if what you say is the truth, would you happen know the location of the prison were she is held?”
Planter responded in no hurry, “You have your reasons for keeping secrets, and I have mine. But yes, I know where she is kept, or rather, where she was kept,” Planter stopped and let a moment pass before turning to face Salius as he went on, “You impress me Salius; you have proved yourself, competent and intelligent, not to mention the fact that you have survived a night here, a rare feat if ever there was one. With that said, even though I still believe you will fail your mission, I do have interest in her death for reasons, both obvious, and others that will remain my own. So, I will offer you what I can to help you succeed in the fashion of an unusual trade. I will tell you her last known location, only if you agree to stay with me for at least a month to learn the sword. Deal?”
After a moment to think it over, Salius replied in agreement, “You have a deal.”
Chapter 20
Day 31
It had been two nights since his capture, and as Zackarius trudged along, hands tied behind his back with rope, he wondered as to the condition and well being of the other four who he had not seen since the battle on the wall. Had they been as unfortunate as he had, or did they somehow evade capture, to wander through the jungles in search of him. Then again, perhaps if they remained free, they decided to push on without him instead. But, as Zackarius pondered this yet again he quickly rejected all such notions, knowing full well that Tiberius would at least make small effort to look for his missing messenger.
Zackarius had, throughout most of the journey, been dragged by the two eight foot tall muscular warriors, which he of course assumed to be none other than the Golgaleth of legend, through the dense foliage of the lush jungle environment that surrounded them. Earlier they had finally come onto a narrow dirt path which had been a nice change as they continued their unpleasant march northeast. Although, unfortunately, Zackarius had no clue where they were headed, as the two giant men spoke in a very different, unfamiliar language, and even if he did understand his captors, Zackarius was unsure as to whether or not they would reveal their current destination anyway.
So far, as Zackarius could tell by the way they interacted, these hulking men had the same level of intelligence as any other men. He had briefly wondered as to their mental aptitude on the first day because he had heard in one retelling of an old legend that Golgaleth were somewhat dimwitted. But, it was easy for Zackarius to conclude at this point, having had plenty of time to observe them, that that myth was clearly unfounded.
It seemed according to Zackarius to be around noon. There were scattered clouds, but none appeared to threaten rain, although Zackarius had learned before that in a tropical environment the weather could change rapidly from one moment to the next, making it at times fairly unpredictable.
The sand had turned to dirt earlier this morning as they marched farther inland; it was a noticeable change, however the tree and plant life remained mostly the same.
More time passed as the two towering Golgaleth escorted their prisoner forward, one from in front and one from behind, leaving Zackarius to keep up in the middle. The warriors were adorned in newly fashioned, large, uniquely designed, strapped leather armor, fitted to chest, midsection, and back, along with thick leather, shoulder, arm, and forearm pieces; wearing ordinary leather pants and boots. Both were bare chested beneath the protection, no doubt due to the hot and humid environment, and at their left sides they carried their full headed steel helmets. The helmets did not bulge anywhere in the face but rather had a T design with a slit going vertically from the bottom of the front till it reached the eye slits which came across horizontally. At the top of the helmets there was a two or three inch long steel fin which protruded up, moving toward the back; looking similar, in design alone, to the common imperial, gold feathered fin, which typically adorned the top of any imperial officer's helmet. Then, strapped onto the backs of the two towering men, currently rested large shields, and at their right sides resting on thick leather belts were brutally crafted steel maces, each weapon fit to be wielded by an eight foot tall, hulking Golgaleth warrior.
Due to lack of sleep during the previous night, Zackarius began to feel weariness again come over him as he walked forward along the dirt path. He had previously considered trying to escape but decided that even if he could somehow escape his captors, there were probably much worse things in this unfamiliar jungle than the Golgaleth. Even Zackarius had to admit, that he had been treated fairly well so far as compared to how prisoners of any kind are generally treated. That being said, he was also deeply curious to see where he was being taken, and perhaps after reaching his destination, fortune would see fit to deliver a translator, allowing him to converse with this supposedly extinct race. Then again, it was all too possible that nothing but death or slavery would greet him at the end of this road, a prospect that yet again forced Zackarius to reconsider escape. But, before having the chance to rehash his options Zackarius paused for a second to look at the sudden change of scenery. The man in the back then immediately shoved Zackarius forward unkindly as Zackarius took in what he saw.
In the vast man-made clearing which Zackarius had just entered, worked thousands of Golgaleth men and women, some warriors judging by the leather armor which they wore, but many were not. To Zackarius it was apparent that they were attempting to construct an incredibly large wooden city. It was impossible to see beyond the forty foot wooden wall which towered two hundred to three hundred feet before the tree line, but even so it was easy for Zackarius to tell that in every way it was not a town or a village, but a great city in both size and scope. The wall appeared to be finished with its guard towers looming above the height of the wall, and many guardsmen peered down as lookouts to protect the city's populace from potential invasion or outside dangers while they labored. Clearly as the wall would be the first piece of the city to be constructed, the rest of the workforce-- whose number he judged, in part by what he could see and the rest by what he could hear on the other side of the wall, to be incredibly large-- would be curre
ntly mainly focused on building that which would be built on the inside of the wall.
An observation made by Zackarius at this time was that the Golgaleth, except for the size difference of course, looked very similar to the Gahnen people in terms of facial structure, and also the color of their hair, eyes, and skin.
Zackarius as he looked around could see hundreds of men moving about, working busily to fell trees, cut them into desired pieces, and proceed by hauling them into the city, delivering them to wherever they would be needed. Then, as he again focused forward in the direction to which he was being lead, Zackarius gazed upon what he was originally taken aback by.
Near the front of the wall's gates there were two immense statues, each near twenty five feat tall, one was laying on the ground covered partially with overgrowth, and the other appeared to have recently been raised in front of the city gates; raised in place as if it was standing to guard the very same people who raised it up. But as the one already in place stood facing the tree line, the other was currently being strapped with many lines of rope to what appeared to be a very complicatedly constructed wooden lever system which had had been built even taller than the two stone statues. Zackarius had seen something like this to raise other things throughout the empire, but he was initially surprised to see it in use here. As he looked at the tall statue which had obviously not recently been carved, it's age being duly apparent, Zackarius decided, why not; there was no reason why such an ancient and once glorious race should not have this technology, despite their isolation from the rest of the world. In Zackarius' mind it was at least conceivable, however as he turned his attention away from the magnificent sculptures of two ancient, armored Golgaleth warriors, each carrying a massive shield in front with an equally massive mace at its side, Zackarius began to return his focus to the present situation.
As they marched forward Zackarius was brought before one man in particular who stood in observation of the workers who labored to raise the second statue. The man, different from the rest, was surrounded by guards in not leather armor like the other warriors, but in steel plate armor.
All six warriors, who if Zackarius was correct, appeared to be something like a kings-guard, wore finely decorated, dark green, knee length coats under the plate, with incredible five foot long swords at their sides instead of maces. The swords which these Golgaleth used could without a doubt be wielded by them with the same ease that Zackarius could wield a much smaller three foot long weapon.
Zackarius' two captors, at this moment, bowed but did not kneel before the man who appeared to be the equivalent of royalty, perhaps a high chieftain of sorts. Then, one of the men who had led Zackarius to this place smacked Zackarius lightly across the back of his head, no doubt to indicate that he also was supposed to bow. But, as Zackarius was accustomed to kneeling before a high lord or royalty in a situation like this, he moved quickly to do such, kneeling out of habit. However, this action was met with an even quicker kick to the chest by the same man who was now obviously either angered or disgusted by Zackarius. As Zackarius flew backward, the impact of the large man's boot making Zackarius fear as to whether or not he would ever be able to breathe again, he heard the chief suddenly speak up to quell his soldier's wrath. The language which the chieftain spoke was of course the same language of his captors and, due to this, Zackarius, as he recovered from the recently sustained blow before moving to stand up, knew that he would not understand anything which was about to be said.
A few moments went by as the man who had kicked Zackarius spoke with the high chief, obviously on the topic of Zackarius' fate. He glanced at his other captor who stood nearby to his left before, after the soldier returned Zackarius' glance with an expressionless look, Zackarius again turned his attention to the chief.
The conversation then stopped immediately, as the chieftain paused for a moment while seeming to briefly ponder which decision to make regarding Zackarius' future. Then, the man waved his hand, as Zackarius' heart, due to mounting anxiety, pounded in his chest. What did that mean? Death or life?
Looking unhappy with his chief's decision, the man who had earlier coldly rebuked Zackarius, now broke audience with the chief before, after another quick bow to his lord, he again approached Zackarius.
Zackarius felt his heart race faster and faster. His hands, once steady, suddenly began to subtly twitch and shake due to the fear that gripped him. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes mercilessly. Zackarius couldn't stand not knowing what fate was about to befall him as the man approached, and due to this he worked aggressively to keep his mind under control. If he was to die, he decided that he would not beg or plead like a peasant who had known no other way in life; nor would he die like a slave who had learned to take the lash day after day in silence, and, therefore, approached his death in like manor. No, he would die like the man he was, a warrior, a warrior in service to a legend. If he was to die right here and now he would approach his fate with honor, with strength, and with the pride that he had come to know after serving alongside the greatest of men.
At this, Zackarius would not cower. He stood resolute, unwavering, approaching death in the same way he had approached life. This was it, in but a moment he would know whether he was to live or to die, and with that, he uttered, in the tongue of the Gahnen, the rebellion's anthem; something which was roughly translated, “I live by those who die, and so shall I die by those who live, but either by time or sword I stand avenged.”
Chapter 21
361 Days Before Day 1
Salius deflected a blow to the neck before swiftly moving out of Planter's range as the skilled swordsman attempted a clever follow up attack which, due to Salius' more than adequate timing, hit nothing but air.
It was early in the morning, no more than a few hours after first light, and, as they battled on with carved wooden practice swords, Salius was finally beginning to notice the first signs of exhaustion, which came due to the energy he had exuded throughout their many bouts since they had begun earlier.
Over the last month, Salius had trained with the sword before breakfast, before lunch, and before dinner every day. It had not been easy at first as they trained sometimes for hours at a time, but Salius was a fast learner and his body quickly adjusted, making him stronger, faster, and more skillful with each passing day.
Planter did not allow Salius to farm or do any other labor besides training while he was to learn the sword. He claimed that this was not just to give the body what rest it could receive, but to train the mind, to keep the mind focused on the sword at all times, when awake, when sleeping, when eating, when lounging. In fact, before the first lesson Planter had said that by the thirtieth day, Salius would feel insanity begin to creep into his mind, and it was only at this point that Salius' training would end. Salius was now at that point, and he fully understood Planter's meaning; it had only been thirty days and Salius had already forgotten everything but the sword. He could not stop thinking about his movements, or his opponent and how he might best him in the next bout. Salius dreamt about combat while awake or asleep, each night and every day. It was like a melody that sung its song over and over in your mind without relent, driving you mad until one moment its song simply leaves on its own.
But, the mysterious man's training regime had worked, for within a month Planter had turned a young man who had never held a sword in his life into a capable and learned swordsman. It had no doubt been a difficult task for the man, but nevertheless, he had succeeded in doing it both timely and adequately.
Today was the last day of his training, and this was the last bout before Planter would reveal Mara's location so that Salius could then depart to complete his original task. Salius did not think about whether or not he could actually find it within himself to kill Mara when he found her, or what he would do once his journey was completed, he simply approached each task, each step, one at a time, hoping that eventually he would wind up where he wanted to be.
There was a pause as Salius had
put new distance between himself and his opponent. With sword held forward and low, Salius made movement as if he were about to attack, but seeing that Planter had already anticipated where his attack would land, Salius pulled back at the last second.
Damn, he's too far away.
At that, Salius stepped forward without striking, feeling for the perfect spot which would allow him to land a blow and retreat before taking one himself. But, as Salius moved forward, Planter executed a feint before swiping low. Salius speedily moved his right leg, letting Planter's sword fly past while leaning in with an attack of his own. Salius hit nothing but air as his weapon flew less than an inch in front of Planter's face. Planter then countered toward Salius' stomach thinking himself already the victor, but as he did this, Salius did something unexpected; he leaned out and doubled down, smacking Planter hard across the face. It was not that the move was unusual as it was actually quite common, it was the way and timing with which it was executed that caught Planter off guard.
With the bout now over, Salius being the clear victor, Planter, still holding his face where he had been struck, began to laugh heartily as blood started to pour out from his nose, “Finally; I must admit, I was rooting for you this time.”
“Ah, I see... so this is where you tell me that you let me win,” teased Salius dryly.
Planter then looked toward Salius with a smile after moving his left hand away from his nose as the bleeding slowed, “No, no, it was a legitimate victory, you caught me off guard. I didn't expect you to recover so quickly; well done.”
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