by Jeff Gunzel
“I cannot tell you what is in your own hearts,” Assirra called down to her people. “That is between you and Odao. I make no demands of any of you this day. If you want to flee, then do so. I harbor no ill will for any who make such a choice. They will hunt you down anyway, but you just may live another day or two. May Odao go with you and guide your path. As for me,” she pulled a dagger from her side and dragged the blade across the palm of her hand, “I am prepared to shed blood in his name.” She held out a closed fist, blood trickling to the ground below. Onlookers stepped back, watching as spots of soil darkened at their feet.
With a disgusted sneer she turned away and went back inside to join the others. Owen and Xavier had already claimed two chairs in the corner. They conversed at a feverish pace, bordering on yelling as Owen’s hands flailed about. In stark contrast to their flamboyant communication, Liam sat alone at the table near the center of the room. Feather in hand, he scribbled away across an unfurled roll of parchment. He stopped every so often to stare at the ceiling while tapping his chin, then dipped his feather in black ink and continued to write.
In an opposite corner Viola and Thatra sat in silence, mostly just watching the men go about their frantic work. Behind Assirra, the beads from the door flung inward and in came Orfi, quickly hobbling over to bend her ear. He jabbered away, protectively clutching something in both hands. Once again his eyes flashed towards Viola.
“Good,” said Assirra, leading him into another room. After a time she returned, just barely peeking her head in from the hallway. With a curled finger she summoned Viola. Liam took notice, looking up from his parchment as Viola followed Assirra into the next room. Carefully laying his feather across the mouth of the ink vial, he pushed back his chair and followed as well. Waiting a minute or two, he peeked his head inside.
He watched as Orfi presented Assirra with a small syringe, the tip of its needle glistening with a single drop of clear liquid. Viola’s eyes widened, mouth salivating as her lips smacked together. “Lie down, dear,” said Assirra, gesturing towards a cot in the corner. “And you, don’t just stand there,” she said to Liam without ever turning around. “Come on in. I’m afraid you’ll need to see this for yourself.”
Liam stepped through the doorway, eyeing the strange scene suspiciously. “I say now, what foolishness is this?” he asked.
“This foolishness just may be the solution to one of your problems,” said Assirra. By now, the curious gathering had drawn the others as well. Something so blatantly secret simply had to be witnessed by all. They watched on in silence, realizing that whatever was going on here, now was not the time for questions. Viola obeyed unquestioningly, sinking down into the cot. Appearing eager, she pulled down her collar and exposed her skin.
Assirra stepped over and sunk the needle into her neck, clear liquid draining from the chamber. Everyone watched, each holding their breath while not really even understanding what it was they were witnessing. Viola coughed, once...twice, then settled back down with her eyes closed.
Suddenly, her chest lurched, back rising from the cot. Her eyes jetted open, the whites instantly turning blood red. Dark veins pulsed beneath the skin on her neck, then spidered their way up until her face throbbed with interweaving lines of black.
Liam looked on helplessly, wondering what they had done to her. Had he just stood by as they poisoned her and done nothing? A frosty mist expelled from her mouth as the pulsing veins slowly subsided. It dampened the ceiling, noticeably dropping the temperature in the room.
He rushed to her side. “Viola! My dear, are you all right?” he asked, hands on her shoulders. “What did they do to you?”
She turned her head, lazy eyes meeting his as she smiled. “I’m better now,” she said, sleepy eyelids fluttering shut. “Thank you,” she whispered, although it was unclear as to who she was speaking to.
“Leave her be,” said Assirra. “It seems that the serum Orfi prepared has done what it’s supposed to. The thirst will be one less thing we have to worry about. Now let her rest.” She waited until all had funneled back into the front room, then pinched out the two lit candles so Viola could sleep peacefully.
“I am in your debt,” said Liam when she appeared from Viola’s room. “I wasn’t sure how we were going to deal with that issue moving forward. It seems you really have discovered a treatment.”
“Compassion for a friend is not worthy of thanks,” Assirra replied, worry etched all across her delicate features. “As you know, we have more immediate problems that must be dealt with. It is I who should be thanking you. You could have run when word of the upcoming invasion reached our ears. But here you remain, ready to stand by our sides.”
“Well, I thank you all the same,” said Liam.
“The hour is late,” she said with a sigh, now speaking to everyone. “There is nothing more we can do tonight that will aid us. I think it’s best that we all retire.” With nods and yawns rattling around the room, one by one they rose and headed for their quarters. All except Liam, who sat back at the table and continued his scribbling. “Will you not join us?” Assirra asked, glancing back over her shoulder.
“Soon enough,” he assured her, flicking his wrist. With an acknowledging nod, she left the room.
An hour soon became two as small stacks of parchments began to thicken with layers. He tipped the ink bottle and frowned into it. It was nearly empty. But no matter, his work was nearly complete. Placing the last parchment on a nearby stack, he gave a big stretch while stifling a yawn.
Assirra’s words rang true in his head. There was nothing more he could do tonight. Sliding back his chair, he pinched off the candle and headed into the hall. Curious, he peeked into Viola’s room. She snored lightly, looking as peaceful as he’d ever seen her. “Good night,” he whispered into the darkness before slipping back into the hall.
She waited for a time, continuing to fake her snores with one eye watching the doorway. To be safe, she sustained the ruse for another half hour. Once she was certain that everyone must be asleep, she rolled from the cot. Folding a small blanket at its corners, she formed a makeshift bag for her meager possessions. Cautiously, she peeked out from the room. Seeing nothing but pitch-blackness, she tiptoed into the front room and headed for the door.
“And where do you think you’re going?” came a familiar voice from the shadows. She froze in place, dropping her bag to the floor. It was all she could do to keep from crying.
“How did you know?” she asked through her sniffling.
“I’m an old man who has seen a great many winters,” Liam replied. With a snap of his fingers he ignited the candle, its flickering light illuminating his face from the neck up. The shifting shadows made him look rather sinister. “I know a great many things. But now, I simply need you to answer my question.” Using his foot, he pushed back the chair opposite of his. Sniffling, lower lip quivering, she reluctantly sank into the seat.
“I just didn’t want to see anyone get hurt,” she mumbled.
“So you believed the best course of action was to leave...on your own...and try to outpace an entire race of beings who won’t stop searching until you are found?” he asked, only barely able to keep his temper in check.
“I’m faster than you,” she stated simply. “They won’t catch me that easily.”
“But they will catch you,” he replied. “Maybe not tomorrow, or even a week from now, but sooner or later they would find you, Viola. And then what would you do?” She said nothing, chin pressed down against her chest. “You would die, that’s what. Their plan is to sacrifice you so that these...ghatins...can break their curse and roam the world freely as they did once before. I’m not entirely sure what the laberaths have at stake, but considering how hard they seem to be working at finding you, there is little doubt they were promised something. They are working together, and that makes them both twice as dangerous.” No longer able to hold back her tears, she began to sob openly.
“There now,” he said, his large han
d engulfing both of hers. “I understand what you were trying to do, but your plan was dangerous. No matter what, we have got to stick together.”
“I’m so sorry,” she managed between sobs. “You and the others have done so much for me already. I just don’t know how to help. I thought if I could lead them away—”
“That’s enough of that talk,” he said, rising from his seat. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I will now attempt to salvage what’s left of the night. I advise you to do the same.” He rubbed her shoulder as he passed by. “I trust I won’t have to go searching for you in the morning?” She shook her head. “Good. Then off to bed with you.”
*
As daylight crept through Liam’s window, his eyes squinted against its shine. His eyes fluttered open to the sounds of rapid footsteps moving about in the hallway. He sat up quickly, wondering if all the sudden commotion had something to do with not being able to find Viola. “That girl,” he grumbled, throwing back the cover, wishing he had kept a better eye on her. Just as his feet hit the floor, Owen’s head peeked into his room.
“I think ye better come take a look at this,” said Owen. His head disappeared before Liam could speak.
“Good morning to you, too,” Liam muttered to no one, slipping his pants over his small clothes. Heading out into the hall, he was surprised when he nearly ran into Viola. “Oh...em...good morning, dear,” he stammered, now more confused than ever.
“Good morning. You need to come see,” she said, smiling up at him. She took him by the hand to lead him outside. The others were already lined up, gazing down from the platform. “My oh my,” he muttered, his breath stolen away by the scene below.
Every tarrin in the tree village had to be down there, each standing at attention with their eyes fixed on the base of the boxa tree. Each held a weapon of some sort, swords and spears, but mostly long bows as far as he could tell. Mismatched armor spotted the group, leather differing in color from brown to green, and a variety of oversized helmets, many of which were constantly being tilted back up when they slipped forward. For all Liam could tell, this equipment must have been preserved from past generations, possibly passed down from great-grandparents. No matter. It would do the job.
“We stand before you, High Cleric Assirra,” one of the men shouted from the front. “We are ready to defend what is ours by right!”
“Indeed...you are not,” Liam said softly, his comment only meant for Assirra’s ears. “But it is a start nonetheless. If you’ll excuse me, I have much work to do.” As Assirra whirled into a fiery speech, Liam turned away and went back inside. Approaching the table, he hovered over his many scribbled parchments. A minute later the others joined him, all save Assirra, whose mesmerizing speech was still raining down in full force.
“Well, it looks like we might be getting a bit o help on this one,” said Owen, smacking Liam on the back. “So, are ye finally going to tell us what all this is?” He gestured to the parchments. “You got a plan er something? I was thinking that maybe you just like to draw.” The mystic ignored him, carefully laying out each parchment in an organized fashion. After they heard a final roaring cheer from outside, Assirra entered the room.
“Just the person I’ve been waiting for,” said Liam, his full attention on his work. “I need you to enlighten me on the combat prowess of your people. Fighting style, preferred choice of weapons, anything that might be useful for me to devise a proper strategy.”
“Hold on there, mystic,” Owen interjected, emphasizing the word. “You just worry about yer little tricks and sparkly dust. Xavier and I will ready these folk for battle.”
“Oh?” Liam replied, still not looking up as he studied his parchments. “So, were you planning to teach them when to employ a defensive choke point strategy, as opposed to when a phalanx would be of better use? You do realize there are times to reform and try a feint rather than splitting your forces to attack the enemy’s flanks, no matter how tempting the bait may be? Of course, this all becomes a numbers game, with experience and terrain weighing in accordingly. Given the inherent lack of experience among this group, it is imperative that they maintain the high ground at all costs, giving them a constant edge no matter which way the battle turns.” Owen just stared, a blank look crossing his face.
“Look, you two work well together,” Liam continued, addressing both Owen and Xavier. “But your brutal, chaotic tactics will only hinder an organized force, especially one as green as these tarrins. I served many years in the Redwater military. Although it is impossible to turn them into soldiers in just one day, with careful planning I just might be able to keep them alive. Most of them, anyway.” He finished arranging the parchments. “Ah, there we go.”
The others leaned in, gazing down at the mystic’s sophisticated arrangement. With excruciating detail, he had mapped out the surrounding terrain nearly down to the last tree. There were spots marked with Xs in varying shades of darkness. The darkest Xs were spots he deemed perfect ambush points. The lighter ones were retreat points to use only if needed. There were scales of numbers riding up the side of each page, representing the points of high ground that needed to be held, versus low ground areas where the enemy should be pushed into.
“Um, yeah,” said Owen, whistling between his teeth. “They’re all yours. But how did you know they were even going to fight? Just yesterday they wanted nothing to do with any of this.”
“I knew nothing,” Liam admitted, gathering up his work. “I suppose you could say I simply believe that the tarrins aren’t much different than humans. You know what they say about wounded animals backed into a corner. I didn’t really think they would chose to lie down while their own families were being threatened. Call it a calculated guess, if you will.”
For the next half hour, Assirra did her best to explain to Liam what he should expect from his soon-to-be student soldiers. As he suspected, with the exception of Thatra, who was quite skilled with a blade, few were all that seasoned in melee combat. Still, their archery skills were some of the best in the realm. Gifted with superior sight and steady hands, the tarrins had no equal when armed with a bow. Their reputations were sure to be put to the test.
After acquiring all the information he could, it was time to get to work. If the scouting reports were true, they had less than a day to prepare. After being lowered down in the cage, Liam began organizing the would-be soldiers into groups. Viola and Thatra watched from the platform as the mystic barked orders, his fingers tracing invisible lines all over his notes, then sweeping the tree line to plan their positioning. He often made them repeat his instructions word for word before verbalizing a counter-scenario, then making sure they understood the contingency plan as well.
He did his best to keep the strategies simple, but drilled them hard throughout the day. Repetition was key, and they didn’t have much time. In the meantime, Owen and Xavier had basically disappeared. The last anyone had seen of them, they were heading east, each with a large sack slung over his shoulder.
After watching another wave of arrows hit a line of trees for what must have been the fiftieth time, Viola finally decided to go back inside. There was nothing she could do to help, and watching the tarrins get drilled over and over was making her nervous. This was really happening, and the reality was really beginning to set in.
“Are you all right?” Thatra asked, taking a seat next to her. Viola rattled her head back and forth, the tense look on her face speaking a thousand words. “I understand. I myself can hardly believe it’s come to this.” She placed a reassuring hand on Viola’s knee. “I am not anxious or even worried. I am terrified. But there is nothing we can do about it now.”
“I thought it would be better,” Viola whispered.
Thatra’s face crinkled at the odd, cryptic comment. “You thought what would be better?” she asked, confused.
Viola’s red eyes looked up. Like windows into her soul, they revealed the pain in her heart. “The outside world,” she said softly. “From my earlies
t memories I have been caged like a pet, hidden from the world.” She smoothed a hand across her leg. “I was his plaything. My body belonged to him and it was something I never questioned.” T
hatra covered her mouth, her milky white eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears.
“Hearing of his death brought me joy,” Viola admitted. “I’m not proud of that fact, but I can’t deny my feelings, either. When Liam took me away from that life, I thought I was free. I thought I would finally have a chance to see the world, to discover all its beauty.” She paused. “But there is no beauty, is there? The world is just as ugly as the life I left behind, if only in a different way.”
“No, you’re wrong,” said Thatra in a quiet, choked voice. “I am so sorry for what has happened to you, but the world is beautiful. If—” She cleared her throat. “When we have successfully defended our village and sent the laberaths running with their tails between their legs, I will prove that what I say is true.” She took Viola by the hand. “I assume you’ve never had a friend before, and now you have many. Don’t you think that’s beautiful? Surely that counts for something in this world you find strange.”
Liam entered, his shirt drenched in sweat. Gingerly, he hobbled across the room and flopped into a chair.
“How are they doing?” Thatra asked, wiping her eyes with a sniff.
“As good as can be expected in so short a time,” Liam groaned, sounding exhausted.
“What do we do now?” Viola asked.
“We wait for the enemy,” Liam replied. “There is nothing more I can do.” He propped his staff between his legs and closed his eyes, preparing to renew a bit of his energy. “I do hope your god smiles on us this day,” he muttered.
“Do not doubt it, mystic,” Thatra replied, grinning. “Odao sees all.”
*
A cloud of dust rose as hundreds of feet pounded the dry ground. Streaks of distorted motion blurred ahead of the pack in explosive bursts, then glanced back like impatient children, impish grins splitting their pale faces. Klashtons rumbled along, their massive rock bodies leaving deep prints with every step. Had it not been for the slower beasts, the laberaths would have reached their destination far earlier. But to leave behind such powerful beasts all for the sake of added efficiency would have been foolhardy at best.
