“Atar, I am the goddess Anahita. I have watched over you all these years. I sent my Bulliwuf to serve and protect you. I have taken your mother, Queen Cunaxa over the Chinvat Bridge.”
“My Mother? She was my mother?” Atar began to cry. “Do you mean she is dead?”
“Yes. Zohak murdered your fair mother. She loved you very much. It was so painful for her to never be able to tell you this. She begged me to do it for her. She wanted you to know that she was forced to abandon you with the Paralatae. It was that, or allow Hergor to kill you, her dear baby. Do not cry for her, Atar. You must attack now and avenge her death. You must avenge the death of all of the people your brother Zohak has killed. But you mustn’t kill Zohak. This is what you must do…
Kava sat erect on his horse, the Banner of Fire held in one big hand. “Protect the Banner!”
It was essential for keeping up the army’s morale, Atar thought. He also understood how important his every move was to the spirits of his people. If his shoulders even so much as sagged, hysteria would spread through the troops. Ishria’s hooves splashed into the sodden ground, the army following the proud stallion and his rider. Atar looked ahead toward Kava and the Banner of Fire. Even in the gloom, the snapping flag looked bright to him. Kava held it high, his back rigid with the tension of battle. Jamshir had howled with anger when he discovered that he would not be on the front lines, and was not at all happy to give up the standard to his father.
Atar rose slightly in his saddle, the wink of metal in the distance sending a chill, then a fierce heat through him. Through the mist of the drizzle, Atar could see the Army of Persia. Bulliwuf sprang forth, darting ahead, eager for battle. Atar looked up to see an eagle soaring above them. At the sight of the magnificent bird of prey rising into the air, the Army of the People let out a whoop and a cheer. Kava waved the Banner of Fire and the cheer grew into a roar of rage.
Screams of terror shot through the Turanians in the front ranks of the Persian army when, from out of nowhere, it came hurtling at them. Beaten gold hooves smashing into the earth, it charged forward, ripping through the ranks with vicious golden tusks. It snorted. Chaos and screams rose all around it. Then it was gone.
General Tavos of the Persian army was stunned. His head snapped to his left, the screams of terror breaking through the trance he had fallen under watching the bright banner of the foolish rebels. “What the hell was that?” Tavos asked.
“Perhaps a volley of long bows,” Meruzanes suggested from Tavos’ right. “I propose we waste no time in returning attack. That volley seems to have them terrified. Tavos, order the demons to attack!”
“Bitches,” Tavos muttered and spurred his horse forward. He rode up to meet the demon general. “General Putana! Order your troops to lead the attack. Just the sight of them will scatter those ignorant farmers.”
General Putana let out a wild demon battle cry. To the astonishment of all, it was answered by a Paralatae battle howl that rose even higher than his did. The demon general snarled, spittle flying out of his mouth and he thundered toward the rebel army.
Atar fearlessly crashed into the Armies of Persia, his gleaming mace viciously slicing the air. Behind him, the roar that rose up from the Army of the People sent a shiver through the atmosphere. It vibrated the very bones, its pure rage sharpening the reality of the cause. Newly made swords gleaming in their untrained hands, they ran forward, eager to lock with the enemy.
Atar snarled at his opponents, blind with battle fury. He disarmed one man and dispatched him, sending his head sailing into his comrade’s lap. Bulliwuf tore the comrade off his horse with inexorable force, his powerful jaws locking around the man’s leg. Above, the eagle screamed as it dove into the battle, its sleek frame gaining power as it shot down from the heights of the sky.
“For Lesa!” Kava screamed as he impaled his opponent through a crack in his armor. He turned his horse and attacked another soldier, ripping out his bowels with manic satisfaction. The Banner of Fire jerked in the watery light as Kava wrenched his sword out of the man’s gut. The man screamed, his cry joining with the others. Desperately, he tried to scoop his shining innards back into his body before death claimed him.
The Army of the People fought with a fury born of the years of pent up anger. The roar that rose from them was a culmination of their rage. They had no say for years and this was their final response to being ignored.
“Fire!” The demon general screamed at his archers over the din. He decapitated an un-mounted farmer with a careless sweep of his mace, his muscles pulling the heavy, fatal weapon through the air.
Atar whirled on Ishria, his eyes like that of a furious wild animal. The next volley of arrows came, followed by a charge. Atar could feel the People losing their courage. This was their very first battle, he reminded himself. He roared a battle cry, swinging his mace above as his eyes scanned for the broad shouldered figure. Where was he? Atar darted deeper into the ranks of the enemy, spreading panic with his relentless attack.
Behind him, Kava screamed. The man attacking him struck again, and Kava’s other arm shot out. The Banner had fallen. A man near Kava, horrified at seeing the Banner go down, and seeing the Firestarter nowhere in sight, dropped his shield and ran. A ruthless Turanian ran him down. The sight was so horrific that his comrade also threw down his shield and ran.
The demon army began to pour out into the fray. The simple people looked on in horror as demons with grossly deformed limbs fell upon the Army of the People. The carriers of the demons were as horrific as their riders. Some were covered in horny plates. Thorny growths protruded from their thick, leathery skin. One elephant-like creature with two stout horns on its face ran with three men impaled on its horns. It stopped to shake its great head and the men shot off in a thick spray of gore. Soldiers and farmers from the Army of the People began to scatter in all directions, but they were overtaken and speared by the great demon army.
The monsters startled Atar, but he struck out. He was under the protection of the Goddess. He knew what he had to do. Calling upon his power as the Firestarter, he took up the mace of Colaxais and attacked the demons. He struck the horned demon carrier, and it fell to its knees, sending the monster on its back to the ground. The demon had one eye the size of a saucer, but it was a glassy black color. The snub nose angled up so high that mucus membranes could be seen jiggling inside. Its mouth opened to reveal a forked tongue that darted forth more than a foot. Atar attacked it with a spear, aiming for the eye, which exploded, sending a gelatinous rain of slime on the lion carrier that was rushing to his assistance. It roared up at Atar and he roared back.
Most of the peasant part of the army scattered at the sight of the demons, but some brave souls, and some of the professionals, fought on. A chorus of war cries broke through as the army of the Horde joined the battle against Zohak’s army. Leading the fierce group was a couple. They wore the war paint and costumes of the Mongol general rank. Atar stared in fascination as Sugreeva and Beerta broke through and began to battle the demons. Beerta stayed close to the Prince, protecting him from attack as he swung a sword, lopping off heads.
The demon army began to weaken. Chilling screams of demons rent the air as, in the distance, at the crest of the hill; the Mages of the Sacred Fires of Ahuramazda appeared, headed by a red-haired mage, Princess Sophene. Their chanted spells rang out over the din of the battle and demons threw down their weapons to cover their ears in fear. The fires rose in the air, smokeless and bright as the chanting grew in volume.
In response, the wizards and sorcerers of the palace began to chant their evil curses against the mages. From their collective breaths issued dense smog of foul air that revived some of the frightened demons.
Atar had to dispatch them before they could give strength to the demons. Bulliwuf appeared at his side and they rushed the army, breaking through as dead soldiers and demons fell in their wake. Atar felt his limbs going weak as he approached the lines of wizards. The vile stench choked off his ai
r supply.
“Atar!” Bulliwuf screamed. “Do it! Summon your power as the Firestarter!”
Atar shook his head to clear it. He just couldn’t do it. It seemed impossible. Ishria began to sway and one of his legs shook violently. Atar prayed. He focused his mind on the vision of his father. His father Anacharsis, the Firestarter who had given him his power. Then he saw the kind face of his mother, Queen Cunaxa the Pure. The mother who had loved him all along. He imagined her dead at the hands of Zohak, and it began.
He felt the tingling first in his extremities. The heat grew and grew until it had nowhere to go but out. Suddenly he reared up in his saddle and Ishria fell to his knees. Bulliwuf rolled near the horse and put his paws over his eyes. Atar saw only the blinding light and felt the power emanating from every pore of his body.
The wizards and sorcerers stopped in mid-spell as the Firestarter began to glow. Running in all directions, they tried to find escape. The light became blinding and suddenly they all burst into flame. They danced and jiggered as the fire burned them alive. Their burned forms fell to the ground and disintegrated into ashes.
“Zohak! Come out and face me!” Atar bellowed, now recovered. His chest was splattered with blood, his mace oozed with it, making him have to grip his weapon ever more tightly to prevent it from slipping. Atar plunged ahead, heedless of fear now. “Zohak!” Atar bellowed. He charged at a group of soldiers and snarled with frustration when they scattered. “I demand you face me! Let’s get this over with!” Atar roared in Paralatae. But there was no answer.
The demon army was fleeing. Not one demon dared fight with the holy mages chanting the sacred mantras. Looking into the turbulent skies, they saw the mighty form of the god Verethragna in the shape of a giant, golden-tusked boar. He held a golden mace over one shoulder and his massive hooves glittered gold. Beside him, the god Mithra roared into battle, shining on the sun chariot pulled by the horses of the sun. The demons passed stool and urine as they fled, terrified.
Atar rode into the palace on Ishria with Bulliwuf at his side. They rode right into the throne room, Ishria’s hooves making a strange tapping noise on the marble floors. “Zohak!” Atar howled.
On the throne, decked in finery and wearing the crown of the Emperor of the Persian Empire, sat Meruzanes. His eyes glittered with madness. “Get out of my royal presence!” he screamed. “How dare you ride a horse into my throne room? Remove that animal from my presence at once,” he said, pointing to Bulliwuf.
“Where is Zohak?” Atar demanded.
“He is gone. He appointed me in his stead. Beware! When he comes back, he will destroy you. Beware the Dragon King!”
Bulliwuf casually approached Meruzanes and showed his teeth in a snarl that sent the poor man howling away, tripping on his long train.
Chapter Nineteen
The long job of rebuilding the empire was not Atar’s idea of the life he had wanted. First, he ordered grain to be distributed to the needy families. He sent envoys to countries willing to supply grain. He used gold from the royal coffers to purchase grain and animals. He reunited families and gave payments to those who had lost relatives to Zohak’s hungry snakes. He removed all the magicians, sorcerers, and wizards from the palace staff and appointed magi under the direction of Princess Sophene.
“Bulliwuf, I just can’t do it,” Atar said. They were reclining in the courtyard. “I may be the heir to the throne, but I don’t want to be Emperor. I want to be with you in the Wildlands. I want to leave. I have set the country on the right path. My job is done.”
“Yes, I also want to leave here, but we aren’t finished,” Bulliwuf said.
A servant entered and bowed. “General Kava to see you.”
“Kava! You have done a great job in distributing supplies,” Atar said. The man seemed disturbed.
“Atar, I appreciate the confidence you have in me,” Kava rumbled. “Thanks to you, people are returning to normal lives. But I can never be normal again. My Lesa. My poor daughter is dead. Sophene has helped me a lot to grieve, but I can’t go on living when the man who murdered my family still walks free. This thing remains undone. As our king, how can you allow this? Atar, I demand justice!”
Chapter Twenty
The hall remained silent after Meruzanes had finished his speech. The thick Indian air was redolent of spices and incense. A dark servant waved a peacock feather fan at Zohak’s side, and another, on the opposite side, waved a yak tail fan. Whenever a fly tried to settle on Zohak, they would wave it off. The snakes attracted many flies with their vile odor that grew day by day.
“So you say that the Idiot Atar has installed himself as emperor and that he has taken all of my wives to his bed? Even Jahi the Lovely? You say he insults me and tells the people that I ran off as a coward? Such nerve!” Zohak’s serpents waved in anger as he sputtered.
“Yes, my Lord. He has commissioned paintings in every town square showing you running with your trousers at your ankles and piss running down your legs. He spends all day lounging with your wives and eating enormous quantities of food. He has gotten very fat and ugly. The people bristle under him. Many are calling for your return. Sire, the nobles are your supporters too. Please return and avenge this disgrace!” Meruzanes finished his speech with a flourish.
“Meruzanes, I wonder why only you have told me these things. My spies say the opposite, that Atar the Idiot is well loved and that the people are happy. They never mentioned the insults to me. They never mentioned the way he has bedded my wives,” Zohak said.
“Yes, he spends much money finding and paying off the spies,” Meruzanes said, nodding sadly.
“Leave before I kill you!”
Meruzanes ran from the room. The servant fanning him backed away and scurried out the door, leaving Zohak and his snakes fuming alone. I will not! I cannot allow this. To hell with Dahaka and his plans! If I listen to him, it will be years before we are ready to take back Persia. I have to go back and kill him. The Idiot! The damn Idiot! Will I ever be free? Will my life be spent in his awful, idiotic shadow? The serpents here are the proof of my magic. Had I been there to lead the troops, Persia would still be mine. Why did I listen to Dahaka? That withered old smelly wizard has been nothing but trouble for me. Now I have been disgraced and the Idiot is violating my wives. I will kill them all!
Chapter Twenty-One
“The mages say that evil approaches. I believe you and Bulliwuf need to be attentive to anything unusual. I have taken the liberty of reassigning Kava as your personal attendant. He’s done very well in his job, but Atar, he has the magic of the blacksmith.” Princess Sophene finished her speech and placed her cat on her lap.
“Thank you Sophene,” Bulliwuf answered. “Atar, she is right. You have been avoiding Kava because he demands that you punish Zohak. I think that eventually you will have to deal with Kava and his petition for justice. If it is true that evil approaches, we should have him near.”
Atar considered this for a few moments.
Atar still needed to sleep in the outdoors. He and Bulliwuf lay together in the grass near the fountain in the courtyard. “You know, Bulliwuf, this is where my mother used to spend many hours. Her attendant, Sanatruk, has been telling me all about her. She told me about how my mother personally fled with me in her arms when I was three. She could have sent one of the servants, but she wanted to be with me as long as possible. I remember her vaguely.”
“Yes, my little one,” Bulliwuf answered.
“Come on, don’t call me little.” Atar stuck an arm out, showing off.
“I remember the day well. The men paid to bring you to the Paralatae decided to kill you and save themselves the trouble. I rescued you, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh Bulliwuf, my life has been so strange. I wish I had been able to know that she was my mother. I saw the kindness and the agony in her eyes, but I knew nothing. She was able to convince me to fight the Horde though, so she was powerful. By the way, Sugreeva and his band arrive tomorrow. I have somethin
g special planned for them. I can’t believe what Beerta has done with him. Sugreeva is…well, he’s become the man he was only in his mind. Nobody dares to call him ‘Sugreeva the Fop.’ They don’t even call him Sugreeva the Fair. His new name is Sugreeva the Fierce.” Atar laughed loudly and Bulliwuf joined him.
“Well my little one…that is, my big…whatever. I want to ravish you tonight. It has just been too long. I know you won’t allow it in the palace. It’s not as if we are the only ones enjoying sex within these walls, but as you are so shy, I have arranged for us to ride off into the night. We will go to a grove far away and enjoy ourselves until dawn.” Bulliwuf looked at him and brushed the front of his trousers down. “You know, if you don’t hurry, I will take you right here. Now gather your bedding. I will go fetch Ishria and Bahira so that nobody need know our whereabouts.” He put a finger up to his lips and smiled wolfishly.
Atar blushed and looked around nervously. “Ok. I suppose I have been pretty horny for you too. Don’t be too long.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zohak waited to see that the wolf-man was gone. Not that he was afraid. He’d decided to do this alone. He and only he would confront the hated Idiot and finally put an end to his reign of stupidity. Zohak remembered all the times he’d tried to end the life of the simpleton without success. The problem was that the man was so colossally stupid that somehow he would bumble out of every danger. He’d been thrown into a swollen creek, left in the forest as a toddler to starve or be eaten by wolves, thrown into a pit of vipers, fed poison. Why, he’d even led the Idiot into the cursed tomb of Colaxais. No man had ever left there alive, but incredibly, the Idiot had bumbled out with the very mace of the famed first king of the Scythians. No doubt, he’d been so stupid that the ghosts had mistaken him for a goat and ignored him.
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