The Rise of Plant Man, Lord of War, Conquest and Revenge: Green Monk of Tremn, Part II (Coins of Amon-Ra Book 2)

by NJ Bridgewater

  He kissed her.

  An hour before noon, Plant Man’s army began to take formation for the march. He had ordered that the remainder of the Temple be demolished thoroughly. The work was well under way as Ffen, along with a staff of clerks he had gathered—seven in number—who formed his permanent retinue, took an accounting of the Treasury, made note of and valued the coins (mostly patsims, patsimads, gold zelanas, silver zitvs, and bronze ffitsas), all the gold, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, amethysts, and gems, platinum, silver, precious weapons and armour, plates and cutlery (porcelain and bone china). He estimated the total value as one hundred and twenty-nine million patsimads, of which Plant Man allowed fifty million to remain as the city treasury, and seventy-nine million to be carted off in the supply wagons in order to fund his military campaign and build his new empire. When all was set and ready, Plant Man summoned his friends, Ushwan, Shem and Meyla, and offered for them to share his howdah—a carriage which is positioned on the back of a ffentbaff, which they politely declined to do. He therefore gave them a similar howdah behind the royal one. Called a ffentwa in Tremni, the howdah contained scarlet-red plush leather seats (two rows), covered with a canvas roof situated upon a thick, finely-embroidered rug to protect the ffentbaff’s back, called a gilba, while a driver sat on the beast’s enormous neck. The leather seats on Plant Man’s ffentwa were emerald green, as was the canvas roof, at the pinnacle of which there was hoisted a royal flag.

  “Do you like it?” asked Ffen.

  “Magnificent!” Plant Man rejoiced.

  “How did you make it?”

  “I found the best embroiderer in Khanshaff. It took them only two hours but it came out beautifully. I’ve had them make a standard as well.”

  This was carried by a sturdy warrior, seven-foot tall, with angular features and hawk-like eyes.

  “What the Great Spirit wills!” he uttered.

  Both the flag and standard were light-green with a brown kay-owl in the centre. Its wings were outspread, its head face on, beak open, claws extended. Two runes were visible, one in either of the top corners: Minwa (Manu in Vocatae), which represents the i or y sounds, and Latis (Latus in Vocatae), which represents the c or k sound. Together, these initials stood for Ifunka Kaffa. Minwa has the shape of an angular backwards-facing R while Latis is the reverse, such that they formed a perfect symmetry.

  Mounting the ffentwa with Arwa and Ffen (who sat in the back row), Ifunka stood on the ffentbaff’s neck behind the driver and gave the signal to proceed.

  “To destiny, to the conquest of Tremn and the overthrow of the Theocracy!”

  He unsheathed his sword and held it aloft.

  “To the one true King of Tremn! In the Name of the Great Spirit, ride! Ride! Ride!”

  “Akhav Yish hey min-ish! Akhav Khan Vabakh yôsh min-ish (All hail the King! All praise the Great Spirit)!” they echoed in Shaffi.

  The royal ffentbaff was an enormous beast, four okshas high and six long, with a great woolly mane, legs like trunks, a long wispy tail, huge eyes buttressed by sharp cheekbones, wide nostrils and huge, mashing teeth. Its thick trunk, like a fifth limb, curled upwards to emit a loud, thunderous bellow, while its pearl-white curled tusks shone in the midday sun. Such a sight, two thousand mounted ffentbaffs and five hundred in train, carrying an army of thousands more, had not been seen since the end of the Empire of Tremn and the beginning of the Holy Theocracy, marked by the final great battle, the Battle of the Three Kings. At that battle, in the open plains of Nubrak in a place called Ardesi (meaning ‘three kings’), the mighty army of Kishton, the last Emperor of Tremn, faced the armies of Kraina and Ritvator, who had come out in aid of the Pretender, Prince Ush—the emperor’s full-brother. This foolhardy and self-obsessed prince had styled himself with the presumptuous title of ‘Emperor Kletush the Second’. He was supported by King Pamitffta of Kraina, known to his enemies as Entva Kvefft (the ‘Evil One’), as well as King Shegwa of Ritvator and Kvel, Head of the House of Kven. When all the armies had assembled, the Emperor’s troops numbered some six hundred thousand, facing off against two hundred and eighty thousand Biknogs of Kraina, two hundred thousand of Ritvator and a hundred thousand from the House of Kven, aided by fifty thousand wild tribesmen—thus more than six hundred and twenty thousand soldiers—one million, two hundred thousand Tremna in all. Each side had a cavalry of at least eight thousand mounted ffentbaffs. In addition to the biffbaffs of the baggage trains, the forces of the Pretender had more than a thousand mounted sheshkabaffs—tall desert beasts of burden—and a dozen huge meshtobishbaffs with twelve-legs each and fierce horns, fangs and tails.

  Ffen recounted the tale of the battle as they approached the southern gate of Khanshaff, recalling, in vivid detail, how the two armies amassed, with the principal protagonists at each head armoured and arrayed in unprecedented splendour and majesty. Kishton, with his golden helm and breast-plate, his hair long black and smooth, with great mustachios and tuft of beard waving in the gentle breeze, his ancient spear, Mitvul Kubara (the ‘Holy Sceptre’), held aloft, while his brown-haired son Prince Ishmael Ffendongarikipatv (the ‘People’s Defender’) carried Mitviksa Tsilelyeng, the Spear of the House of Tsilel; Prince Kish carried the sword, Prince Kubba the mace, Prince Trel the bow and arrow, and Prince Ushwan the long-sword. Glorious and long as this battle was, its results were all too tragic, with the two armies, equally matched, both annihilated, and all the best blood and the finest fruits of manhood the world had ever seen utterly spent. So much blood soaked into the soil that it is said that ‘the grass grows greenest on the plain of Ardesi’. With the Pretender and his allies killed and Kishton’s army wasted, and his body badly wounded, his daughter Revna, who had taken the Pretender’s bastard son Kabanik as her spouse, had fled to Pash Shiwev (i.e. ‘Greenleaf’), a small monastic village in Ritvator Province. Having burnt down the monastery and all its monks within, Kishton found that his daughter had fled further afield, along with her child, Kabanik’s heir, and the seven original copies of the first four chapters of the Holy Tamitvar, which had been kept safe within the monastery since the time of Votsku. When he eventually found his daughter in the Great Forest of Ffushkar, Kishton sliced off her head and was going to impale his grandson, when a beam of light blinded him, and he heard the voice of Amon-Ra, who warned him not to slay the babe and banished the House of Tsilel “until the end, when Ishmael shall return”. Together with his five sons, the Emperor Kishton boarded a great sky-ship and sailed away into the stars—or so the legend goes.

  “What do you think became of Revna’s child?” asked Plant Man.

  “I don’t know,” said Ffen. “Perhaps you are of his line?”

  “I should hope not,” he replied. “For that would make me the heir of Kabanik, who was the bastard son of Prince Ush. Ush was of the House of Tsilel which was exiled by Amon-Ra. As such, I cannot be of the line of Tsilel or it would invalidate my kingship.”

  “You could be a descendent of King Ishmael the Great, though,” Ffen continued. “Through another line. And who knows if the babe of Revna was a boy. It could have been a girl and you a descendant nonetheless, as a house is defined by its male line.”

  “An interesting theory,” said Plant Man. “But Amon-Ra’s wisdom is quite inscrutable to me. Perhaps he will reveal my true lineage in good time.”

  The army marched north over the drawbridge, across the moat and into the Great Forest of Ffushkar. As they entered the tight-knit woods, the ground rumbled as ffaika emerged to prey upon them. Hundreds of soldiers cast lances into the beasts, slaying them as they marched onwards, their oozy blood leaking across the forest floor. The beig-trumps sounded, the diffka-drums beat incessantly, the massive formation progressed, tightly-formed and well-aware of the dangers of worms, shan, clay men and yeshkas, shaking the ground and toppling saplings and even grown trees under the crushing weight and pounding footsteps of the ffentbaffs. Meish and wigwaffs, ffigs and ffubis
hes fled and dispersed, tvung-deer scattered and ffentwash-bishon hid themselves from its juggernaut like progression. They crushed globule-thrusters underfoot while the shan themselves avoided the immense force of arms. At some distance, on a small hill, there stood two figures, unnaturally resplendent and refulgent, arrayed in wondrous flowing robes and a halo of light. Their exact figures and faces were obscured by the glow, but they were not shan nor, in fact, were they creatures of Tremn at all.

  “Cumi, ves tuobuin aerbon maituictae avaraso (Him, what thinkest thou of the coin-bearer)?” said one.

  “Sohrhab daiamiccum le, Ramaen (he is full of rage, Worrier),” replied the other.

  “Aquan iout Niato Ramoslegionoic ca leso (is it not time for the Holy Theocracy to fall)?”

  “Isva, avium phantosisin Temic vaeroncacum vaiascon. Aersilai Silelciu deanatmon phespha bav celphic arretap lis (perhaps, but he shall bathe the cities of Tremn in blood. We banished the heirs of Tsilel to give this world peace).”

  “Celphic pretel Solis elenmon le vesutam. Cansaphuscumcum bahaemon cub Mirad Maitucumapcum lison. Cum deatovut Aerd Maelic phelic initog nibaint lemon ca leso (Amon-Ra hath chosen this monk for a purpose. He guided him to Khanshaff and gave him the Verdant Coin. Is he not the return of Ishmael, whose coming was prophesied)?”

  “Celph Maraquineam bobo le. Solisciuhrhon Aerd pheum iumcumhrhon bobogai Maraquinecimcum cuint hrhuba (that is for the Legion Council to decide. Amon-Ra is our king but he must explain his decisions to the Council).”

  “Leci cadu Iphunca Capha phada Candaspu boboint lecon (then shall the fate of Ifunka Kaffa, Son of Kandaspu, be decided).”

  “Raval, Ramaen—raval (even so, Worrier—even so).”

  Plant Man thought he could see a faint glow on the hilltop, but it vanished as he gazed upon it. ‘A trick of the eye’, he said to himself as his ffentbaff grunted, grabbing a tree bole with its mighty trunk, ripping it from the ground and tossing it aside like a mere twig. After a short while, they approached the woods of Jyoff. An arrow burst through the air and lodged itself in Plant Man’s shoulder. Unfazed and unhurt, he ripped the arrow out and challenged the assailant.

  “Who dares attack the King of all Tremn?”

  “Bastard Shaffu!” screamed a voice. “Ye’ve come to take me at last! Come on, then! I’ll kill you all!”

  It was Jyoff Wagva himself, unaware that Ifunka and Shem had returned.

  “Death to the Shaffu!” he cried.

  Arrows flew left and right, killing Shaffu warriors, knocking them from their ffentwas. Plant Man hid Arwa behind him. As the army retaliated, Plant Man cried “Stop!” and they ceased.

  “You too, forest man!” he ordered.

  “Why should I?” Jyoff cried.

  “For it is I, Ifunka Kaffa, returned!”

  Chapter XXII.

  The Forest March

  “Ifunka!” Jyoff cried.

  The bedraggled recluse emerged from behind a tree bole.

  “Do not harm him!” Plant Man commanded. “Behold, I entered Khanshaff, slew its rulers, banished the false god Asharru and was blessed by Amon-Ra with suzerainty over the plant kingdom. I have slain all the followers of Asharru and converted the remaining Shaffu to the Right Religion. This is my army; I am heading to Kubbawa to crush the Theocracy.”

  “Inta’s beard!” the hermit cried. “Art thou speaking true? Such a revolution of events is scarce credible. I would fancy thee mad if I were not beholding this self-same army with my very eyes. Ifunka the monk, a conqueror of men! How the weak are exalted and the proud fallen, as the Tamitvar says!”

  “The followers of the Tamitvar are never weak,” replied Plant Man. “Come, Jyoff; these are not the Shaffu you remember. These are the Army of Plant Man. We are an army of God under one king, with one goal: the overthrow of the theocracy and the unification of all Tremn. Is that not a lofty goal?”

  “Thou wantest me to join thee? By thunder!” the man stomped as he spoke, as if he were the living embodiment of a ffentbaff paw. “And give up my forest home—my freedom?”

  “No man has freedom as long as the oppressive clerics reign over Tremn. Thou canst liberate all of Tremn if thou join me.”

  “Join thee and those Shaffu scum?” He pointed widely at the army.

  “Soldiers of the good cause,” Plant Man corrected him. “Look, Jyoff, an army moves like a river. Join us now or we shall pass on by, as shall glory and honour. Live in peace here in the forest depths and die alone, or, come with us and be forever immortalized in the annals of Tremn.”

  Jyoff pondered the proposition for a few moments and then nodded to himself.

  “The Theocracy,” he muttered. “Is like a cancer on the face of this land. I will join you.”

  Plant Man signalled for his ffentbaff to be lowered while Jyoff, carrying on the clothes on his back and his bow, arrow and quiver, climbed aboard the ffentwa and sat beside Ffen. The ffentbaff grunted as it rose again.

  “Where’s Shem?” asked Jyoff.

  “He’s a bit further back,” Plant Man replied matter-of-factly. “He and Brother Ushwan do not support our war because they feel I am mad with power.”

  “All conquerors are mad with power,” Jyoff opined. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not justified. Ishmael the Great was justified; Kubba Gven was justified; Kishton was justified.”

  “Even though Amon-Ra exiled him from the world?”

  “So they say,” replied Jyoff. “But he was only translated to another place. There are worlds out there, suspended in the sky. Every star is a sun, like Vukt, my father told me, and each one has its planets, just like Tremn. Somewhere out there the heirs of Tsilel can be found.”

  “Who was Tsilel?” asked Arwa in her distinctive accent.

  “A woman!” exclaimed Jyoff. “And a Shaffu one at that! Long has it been seen I have gazed upon the feminine type.”

  “Be careful, Jyoff; this is my queen, Arwa.”

  “Very pleased to meet thee,” he greeted her.

  “The pleasure is mine,” she replied politely.

  “My wife is the ruler of Tremn in my absence,” Plant Man clarified. “So treat her with the utmost deference and respect.”

  “And what of my question?” she persisted.

  “Ah, yes,” Plant Man began. “I have read something of the history of the Age of Kings and its origins. Tsilel was the eldest of the sons of Ishmael the Great and his wife, Queen Gwel. The people greatly rejoiced at his birth, calling him Tvam Ayalatsa (‘Rejoice for him’) but, when he grew up, he proved to be power-hungry, capricious and cruel, so Ishmael chose his youngest son, Prince Mael, whose mother was another wife, Queen Rel, to be his heir, because he was loyal, hard-working and humble. When he became High-King at the age of two hundred and fifty, he assumed the regnal name of Ishmael Gan (‘Ishmael the Second’), though many called him Tsabt (‘the Short’). Prince Tsilel, on the other hand, was made Duke of Wafftayunda, which title passed to all of his heirs until his descendant Kubba became Kubba Gven, the first Emperor of Tremn, but that’s another story.”

  “So, two families have ruled Tremn?” asked Arwa.

  “The heirs of Ishmael Gan ruled as kings until Gven Dakit (‘Gven the Last’) and then the heirs of Tsilel ruled until Kishton, but now the High-Priests hold power—and these are the descendants of the Seer, Votsku. Baku son of Ffal was the first High-Priest to bear the title of amlegyanoshai (i.e. ‘Head of the Theocracy’) while the current, Shawaku son of Ffen, is the eleventh Head. The High-Priests are descendants of the royal and imperial families, however, through female lines. It is well known as the Princess Mana, a daughter of Kishton, married Baku while his great-grandfather, Wawaku, married Princess Kvaid, who was the youngest granddaughter of Kubba Gven. Likewise, the High-Priest Ushwan, three generations earlier, married Princess Yimash, a daughter of King Gwel Amta.”

  “Your m
emory is almost as capacious as mine, your Majesty,” Ffen remarked.

  “Thank you, Steward.”

  “The descendants of Ishmael the Great are numerous,” added Jyoff. “How many there be only the Great Spirit knows, but the total number must be in the thousands, at least in the direct male line.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Plant Man. “The Age of Kings, if I remember correctly, lasted one thousand, one hundred and fifty-five years, from the reign of Ishmael the Great until the end of King Gven’s reign. There was an interregnum of about one hundred and seven years, followed by the beginning of the Age of Emperors, when Kubba Gven took up the throne. There were four emperors: Kubba Gven, Gavidron, Kletush and Kishton, with the last of these going into exile in the fifty-ninth century from Kultvum Dian (the ‘First Day’). How long is that Ffen?”

  “The Age of Emperors lasted one thousand and ninety-four years, your Majesty. Kishton was exiled in the year five thousand, eight hundred and eighteen from Kultvum Dian. It is now the year seven thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine, so roughly two thousand, one hundred and thirty-one years have passed since the end of the empire and four thousand, four hundred and eighty-seven since the beginning of the reign of King Ishmael the Great.”

  “You see?” observed Plant Man. “The year eight thousand is well-nigh upon us. That is the year that Kubbawa shall fall and the theocracy perish. Then shall the new Age of Kings dawn.”

  “Indeed,” said Ffen. “It’s now the month of Taryam, if I haven’t lost count of time. We are nearing the end of Gilwa season (‘late autumn’), with Leffwa (‘winter’) beginning in only a few short days. That leaves five months—less than eighty days—until the new year.”

  “Excellent,” Plant Man remarked. “Then we shall endeavour to conquer the three cities within that time.”

  The planet Tremn circles Vukt in an orbit which lasts three hundred and seventy-five days, roughly ten more than earth’s own orbit. The inhabitants of Tremnad divide this year into five seasons of seventy-five days each: Raimwa (apring), Ashwa (summer), Ffalwa (cool/mild season), Gilwa (late autumn) and Leffwa (winter). Each of these is, in turn, divided into five months, with a total of twenty-five months in the year, and each month consisting of fifteen days. Each month has a name, as does each day of the month, while a Tremna week consists of five days (there being three weeks in each month). The days of the week are numbered according to the ordinal numbers (first, second, third, fourth, and fifth respectively). The years are counted from the Kultvum Dian—the First Day—which is the traditional date of the beginning of the world or, rather, when Inta (i.e. the ‘Him’) first set foot on Tremn, along with the Seven Fathers of Tremn and the Seven Mothers of Tremn, who were the traditional ancestors of the entire Tremna population. The veracity of this story and how the years were calculated, no man knew for certain—only that the ancestors told the story of Inta and that the Tower of Inta could be found in the depths of the Great Forest of Nor. For official documents, royal and imperial decrees, and the diktats of the theocracy, the name of the ruler (whether it be the king, emperor or head of the theocracy) and the year of his reign were used. Thus, the present year was Shawaku CCVII, it being the two hundred and seventh year of Shawaku’s reign as High-Priest, Archbishop of Kubbawa and Head of the Theocracy.