by Matt Wilk
“Assaulting a priest. Only served three months in the mine. They were not happy to see him go. Apparently, he could have lived the quiet life of a miner. The way the Tonney’s were screaming like children, a very successful one at that.”
My face burned from being embarrassed twice but I said nothing.
“No worries boy-o. I’ve seen enough armies to know most are built on the backs of men that traded in their shackles for swords. All I wanna know is, was it worth it? Would you do it again?”
“A hundred times sir.”
He laughed in my face and slapped my shoulder hard enough to send me to my knees. Then he knelt down and displayed his skill with locks. He produced two bald ceremonial pikes, tiny pieces of stone that had been carved into the elongated pyramid shape of an obelisk. I knew their true purpose to be ending an injured man’s life quickly and mercifully. Gently, he inserted them both into the locked cuff and spread the tips as a pair of scissors without the finger loops. The cuff clicked open and the Bloodaxe smiled to himself.
“Thank you sir. Ugh, my wrist is all raw.”
“Well I say, inspection’s done. Contract pages please. Write your name nice and clear. If you do not know how to read and write- you are disqualified. Trouble maker, are you here of your own free will?”
“Yes, sir.”
Grandfather had signed the top of three blank lines. I wrote my name in the center. There was no time to read the proclamation but I saw the third line was left to any man of sufficient rank to receive a charge. Once Lazarus had signed, Grandfather took the pages and rearranged the boxes behind us. He was looking for something, while testing all the hinges for a chest worth keeping. The sky was getting lighter with each passing second and the thought of finally feeling the sun’s warmth shine down on me again made me smile. The smile itself immediately made me a target as the other Majors walked through our line and began insulting us without warning.
“Turn back Bahgeshi boy, you’re too skinny to survive the wild.”
“What do you laugh at Swillian? I cut down all of your cousins in the war. Do not take me for a joke.”
“Keep your head and eyes straight forward boy-o. Don’t you look at her, or me, or anything else for that matter.”
“You think I will go easy on you Cairan? You light skinned pretty boys from the UNF make me sick. Have you ever so much as seen Cairo?”
Besides the Bloodaxe, there was a Congon man with a bald head, and a Slorrick woman who had cut her golden hairs down to a few inches. They all dressed in a black and grey uniform with blades attached to their arms, as opposed to the norm of using a sheath attached at the hip. They even had black cloaks, resting on broad shoulder plates. The Lantos had even designed the scaly boots and gauntlets to mimic those of the Drakkah.
The three Majors took turns cutting into our egos with dull blades. They warned us to turn back and tried to make us cry, but we had hurled worse insults at one another when playing pretend soldier. The air went eerily silent when they suddenly stopped and walked away. They had a quick chat about which recruit they would take for themselves, then they came and stood before us. Grandfather returned with the contract pages, stopping behind me first. The Congon Major stood in front of me, balling his fists and rotating his shoulders.
“You won’t die on me will you?”
“No sir, I promise.”
“What a shame. Swillians always fight harder when they can feel death approaching.”
He signed his name on the contract page, returned the ink pen, and moved back two paces behind the covered pile of gear. He stood there in the proper stance of a UNF grunt, and I did my best to do the same. The Majors lined up and paused for the signal to begin the ceremony- just before sunrise. The lady Major stood before Senjay, leaving the Bloodaxe to take Lazarus as his charge.
“This is your last chance ladies. If you don’t have the salt for whatever comes next, take a step back, and reveal your true identity as a coward.”
I did not even look over to check on the others. We stood our ground. The Bloodaxe raised his right hand by his head and held the palm open towards us. Trusting us was one thing, but, swearing an oath before the allFather would bind our souls to our word.
“Raise your sword hand. So, you swing with your left? Doesn’t matter one bit. Right then, you lot repeat after me. Sound off loud and proud. Let this oath take root deep in your bones. May you ever hold loyalty, courage, and honor uppermost in your minds.”
“Sir-yes-sir!”
“I, state your name, hereby swear my life to the civic service.
This choice I make of my own free will before the gods to witness.
I proclaim the Unified Nations of Freemen to be my homeland. But, I will defend the freedoms of every kingdom in good grace.
No enemy shall ever sway my loyalty to the realm.
I do not fear death, for I know that honor is earned through sacrifice.”
When we finished shouting, the final word echoed out through the valley. We were filled with a pride that we had not yet earned but we pledged to fulfill our duty- regardless of the task at hand. The pause lasted until the first ray of light peaked over the Apple Mountain.
“Kneel before the King of Kings!”
They moved to stand before us and took our sword hands to hold the contract page. Over the embossed insignia of the UNF, they dangled the tiny obelisks, preparing to finish the ceremony.
“Look me in the eye boy. Matthius, you swear to live and die for these people?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Despite your Swillian heritage?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you will serve your master with honor?”
“What is the master’s name, sir?”
“Major Charles Swiftblade.”
His grin met mine and I nodded, even knowing what he would do next. They called to us in one booming voice, and after we had responded together, we screeched through the pain together.
“Swear it!”
“I Swear!”
To ensure we never forgot our oaths, they pierced the pikes into the contract pages, and all the way out through the back of our hands. They let us squirm and pull and cry until we had regained our composure. Grandfather moved in behind me and affixed the hilting piston to the back of my head. Major Swiftblade held my arm steady while the straps went across my forehead and under my chin. When the piston assembly was centered, Grandfather gave it a soft blow with a wooden hammer. I felt the hilt dig into my skin with two fangs that centered just under the damaged occipital knot that Grandmother had warned me about. Rusted iron springs shot the hammering face back into position with enough force to shake loose the tears I was holding back. The straps were tightened enough to leave marks and the piston was struck two more times- with much more force. By the second blow, the sun had risen and my skull had cracked from the pressure. Upon the third swing of the hammer, the hilt’s fangs had sunk in completely, the sun blinded my eyes completely, and my mind was completely gone.
The hilt had clearly been implanted incorrectly. I could hear the falcons scaring prey from the tall grass. The mega beavers flapped their massive tails, showing glory to the allFather by building new homes. I could even hear the fish, bubbling and splashing in the streams hidden under the mist. However, I could no longer speak. Every time I opened my mouth, the only sound that came out was the barking of a dog. Someone shouted right in my ear and spit on my face like a wild man. I was on my knees, rubbing my eyes to wake them when he pushed me over.
“What are you doing?”
I jumped up ready to swing on a man, but found my attacker to be a grey old hunting dog. He understood that I was awake and immediately knocked the pile of gear over by digging at the open sleeping roll. My attention was locked on my right hand. Where there had been a hole straight through- just moments before- was completely healed. When I wiped the blood from my hand, I saw that not so much as a scar remained. I jumped and shouted my thanks to the gods.
&
nbsp; “I’m alive? I have a hilt? The glorious allFather has blessed me yet again!”
The hilt had burned through the hair and the stitches and pushed my skin out on all sides. It was warm to the touch, and I turned away from the sun so it could receive maximum exposure to the light. I only had time for one deep breath, but I closed my eyes and took two. The dog barked his goodbye and ran off straight north. I watched him cut a path through the dissipating mist until I could see bouncing hilts and hear shouting. Then I saw the gear that I had been issued.
“What sort of armor is this? The Majors get to be Drakkah and we’re stuck dressing up as turtles? And there is no shirt? Ugh.”
There was no one waiting around to explain anything. I scrambled to put on the armor and latch the straps around the biggest shell. Black Divers can make it clear to the bottom of the ocean, so it made sense use their shells as armor. Even the body shield was the shell of a diver. The back shell was wide enough to stretch far beyond my shoulders and long enough in the middle to tap the back of my calves. The full load was heavy but the hilt gave me strength. I sprinted past the measuring scales and leapt from the dais only to stop- having to readjust everything. The Drakkah were no longer glowing red in the full light of day, though, they were still magnificent.
“Well gentlemen, enjoy your spring. Also, there is no such a thing as a Drakkah.”
The dog had snuck up behind me in the grass with more stealth than I had expected. When I turned to run, he tripped me, and sprinted off ahead. I could have sworn I heard him laugh.
“Oh, I’m gonna get you. You think that’s funny? Just wait ‘til I catch you.”
The dog moved quickly, yet I could not hear his paws crunch on the frozen grass. I kept the statues positioned exactly behind me, but still did not find the path the others had taken. The ice came into view with the green horizon lights dancing in the far north. The glacial wall spread clear across the UNF- from coast to coast- and it pushed the ground up into a small mountain from the pressure. The mountain pushed down south into a tip at East Point. I ran straight at it until I heard a steady rumbling roll down into the valley. I could barely see the tips of a caravan moving along the mountain from right to left, so I ran right in hopes of finding the way up.
“Wait for me guys. I’m coming.”
“Rough!”
“Huh?”
The hunting dog had sped past and was already on the hidden road barking down at me. I still could not see where the road began. No matter, he was showing me a faster way up. The mountainside just below the cliff had erupted from the expansion of freezing ice and a frozen waterfall offered me an easy climb. Somehow, the shells did not weigh me down at all. I was able to jump higher than ever, and even the slippery ice made a solid platform under my crushing hands.
“Look out little doggy. Here I come.”
Thirty feet up and I was still fearless. The last jump to the cliff’s edge was too tall and I only caught it with the fingertips. I managed to throw my whole body up and over. I landed on the hidden road on both feet, ready to scream with excitement. Even the dog was surprised at my newfound agility and he huffed at me when I touched down.
“Ha! I have the power now, ‘boy-o!’”
The dog was not impressed at all. He decided to race me to the caravan. They were miles ahead and showed no signs of slowing. Thankfully, the dog kept me company all morning. He was terrible at conversation, but, at least he did not leave me behind.
Act 2
“Look boy, they’re waiting for us.”
By that time, it hurt my chest to speak to the dog while keeping pace. The little devil had no problem running circles around me and trying to trip me by swiping at my heels. Senjay and Lazarus were running behind the caravan with Major Bloodaxe, and, when they stopped, he made them do pushups. I had hoped that they were waiting for me, but, from the tone of his shouting, it sounded more like someone had made a mistake. When he called back to us they were still a mile or more ahead. The smooth rock wall beside us carried his voice.
“Tommy? Can you believe he already forgot my name?”
The hunting dog shot through my legs from behind and I fell hard enough to learn the shells were good at sliding- especially off of cliffs.
“Hey! I almost fell off the cliff you mutt. Wait! I didn’t mean it. Come back.”
Of course, the dog’s name was Tommy. When his master called, he made sure to trip me one last time. They did not stop for us. Still, the dog had no problem catching up and making it clear that he had been ordered to accompany the straggler.
“Well don’t let me slow you down. I’ve been subsisting on fish guts in gruel for three months but I have all the energy in the world. You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up in no time.”
Talking to my self was even less fun than speaking with the dog. However, without Tommy there to trip me, I was able to hold a faster pace. Before the second hour had passed, I made it close enough to Major Bloodaxe that he ordered another dog to come and take me out.
“You’re in the Commandoes now boy-o, keep up or catch up. Timmy, take the rear.”
“Timmy? Oh no.”
The second hunting dog was grey as well but much younger and slimmer. He sat and waited for me to run up to him- as if tired- but it turned out to be a trick. When I passed he lunged out and pushed me into the cliff face. Worse than swatting at my heels he would allow me to gain a lead then fill the gap at speed and jump off my back shell.
“Hey, you’re not giving me a boost boy. This is not helping, stop it!”
I counted his gallops and managed to step to the side in time for him to jump and miss. Timmy left me with no choice but to zig and zag across the road until I had passed Major Bloodaxe. Then the rocks came at me from all sides in a flurry.
“We’re training to block arrows. Use your shells brother, ah! Damn dogs.”
“Careful with that one, he swipes at your ankles!”
When I was finally part of the caravan, the older hunting dog lunged out and dropped Senjay. I extended my hand to pull him up but Major Bloodaxe clipped my fingers with a stone. He kicked Senjay’s shell, making him spin on his back out of control, then went back to bouncing stones off the shells on our backs. Major Swiftblade was sitting in the rear cart whittling one of the extra black diver shells. He made sure to wait until our focus was elsewhere to bounce a stone off the cliff face, so that it would ricochet out sideways. The lady Major took turns lobbing one stone high and slow to distract from the fast ones she launched at our chests. She focused her attention on her charge- Senjay- to prevent him from getting any closer.
“Matthius, we have to cover him.”
Lazarus and I moved to the middle of the road to block the stones from passing. The Majors immediately made us suffer for it. The Swiftblade did not look up but began throwing rocks sideways with both hands. Stones came at us from everywhere, and we had to jump to deflect some on a curved trajectory. The dogs had to stay near the rear cart to keep from being hit because we were blocking nearly every stone and some were even finding their way back. Senjay sprinted in and we opened up to spread the line of fire. We started celebrating our skills just in time to distract ourselves from what the dogs were doing. They tripped us into a pile of knocking shells and moaning boys, and continued to jump on our bellies, while the caravan slowed to a stop.
“Well that was fun. Sorry I’m so late boys. Uh, did I miss breakfast?”
“No you did not!”
“Did somebody say breakfast? I’m sorry, are you hungry sweetness?”
“Sir, yes sir.”
“C’mon Matthius.”
“Alright, breakfast it is. You know what I’m in the mood for boy-o? How’s about we have us some turtle soup?”
Senjay and Lazarus groaned and started doing pushups.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Yea, neither did I.”
“What’s all that noise? Hurry up with breakfast and make sure it’s extra salty.”
The Bloodaxe and his dogs walked to the front cart. When they were out of sight Senjay stopped to breathe.
“Push harder girl!”
“Yes sir, Major Talon sir.”
“She thinks he’s too pretty to be a soldier. Watch this.”
Lazarus pulled at Senjay’s elbow and Major Talon started up screaming insults in old Slorrick. We tried to laugh but Major Bloodaxe returned and growled like one of his dogs. He had left his shirt and cloak in his cart and one of his dogs stayed to guard the front of the caravan. Despite lightening his load, he kept his axe laden gauntlets on his tree trunk arms.
“Well then, is my soup ready yet?”
“Sir, yes sir.”
He bent down and wiped the sweat off our foreheads, just to be sure we were exercising hard enough. Then he began stretching out his overlarge muscles while he waited for us to drink water from a jug in the rear cart.
“Sir, what are you making?”
Major Swiftblade did not stop carving at his shell, so I continued to question him and Senjay joined along with his pirate voice.
“Oh sire, a gift you say?”
“Oh sire, you shouldn’t have. Your company is treasure enough.”
He looked up at us with his brows raised as high as they could go before scoffing at us.
“I know what will wipe the smile off your faces.”
He nodded back to the Bloodaxe but he was just gathering stones into the small sling he used to carry them. I turned back confused and followed his stare to the sky.
“No! No, not today. I can’t do this today.”
“Excuse me, what will an eclipse do to us?”
“You aren’t going to die on me, are you boy?”
“Sir, no sir.”
When Lazarus looked up, we all stood there in silence for a moment to watch the sun die. The nearly full moon transformed into a dead black disk and slowly slid into place. I turned to let my hilt absorb the last rays and Major Swiftblade laughed at the fear written on my face. My head followed the receding light across the ice. The shadow chased it down the valley, followed immediately by the red light of death. Major Talon popped the cork on a swirling ram’s horn of berry wine and started fighting her own internal demons. The hilt held my skull together, but the shadow reintroduced me to the vision blurring, blood tainted, red shadow of pain. I dropped to my knees and vomited stomach acid and water under the cart. Unlike the others, at every solar eclipse, Mother Moon punished me for being the son of Gojinus. For all of the moon children he killed, I was made to suffer. Just as the people forced the sons that the Swillians left behind to wear a goat pelt, the gods forced me to drown in blood.
