Achil & The Kingdom of Jin

by David Papa-Adams

  Chapter III

  In the Lands of the Mead

  Along the road they passed a stronghold it was atop a man made hill that overlooked the surrounds. It was made of grey craggy unwelcoming stone with a shallow moat running along its base. There were two flags upon one of the turrets, one the symbol of Mead, the other of the Mandrake. Achil slowed the horses and gestured to Andreas to come a little closer.

  “This Fort was not here before.” His eyes directed everyone to where he was looking.

  “It appears that the Mandrake have been busy, very busy,” replied Andreas his curiosity aroused. “To think only a short time ago the Mead were nothing more than disparate tribesmen, that warred among themselves.”

  “Maybe we simply underestimated their character as a people,” whispered Achil urging the horses forward once more. “The Mandrake as in all things considered their value to the Imperium, which in the main, is manpower, and so they gave them the things that they wanted in exchange for that. It served our purpose to see them divided, so instead of making them a strong ally, we made them a weak enemy. We did what was short sighted.”

  As they made their approach two sturdy looking guards came forward to confront them, both carried long challenging pikes that more than prevented anyone from passing.

  “What business have you in a protectorate of the Mandrake Imperium?” The Guard stood impassively by, he wore a metal breastplate. A sword hung loosely at his side, and a shield clung to his back as though it were some protective shell. His helm was in the shape of a fearsome Wolfs head and his girth was only matched by his height; a long black mane flowed from beneath his helm. He certainly did not look like he was from Mead.

  “We’re traders and here are our papers.” Achil handed the man the documents and now they were about to find out whether they would stand the test of being scrutinised by border guards. The guard quickly rustled through them, and passed them to his companion.

  The other guard studied them for a moment saw the word guilder and passed them back. One of the men then asked them to step off the wagon so that it could be inspected. Apparently smugglers had been transporting illegal substances into the Imperium, illegal that is in so much as they had not paid the appropriate dues or rather bribes. The guard climbed on top of the furs and carpets and began his search. When a gong sounded he jumped down with great alacrity, as he landed the other guard told Achil and Nishga to be on their way. The gong was the signal for the changing of the Guard and for the two men it meant home to a hearty meal and then off to the tavern for a drink or three.

  The wagon rolled forward. As they passed the imposing Fortification of the Imperium, they could see a Cohort of Marauders filing out on patrol. They watched as the well ordered soldiery quietly and ominously made their way onto the path and at a trot headed in the direction of Kush. Achil urged the carriage forward; slowly the leagues were eaten up until they entered briefly rougher more wild terrain, hilly and wooded. They did on occasion pass a sleepy farmstead, or venture past a young shepherd boy with his crook trying to encourage a small lamb to join the other sheep, and they stopped once to briefly eat and rest but were soon on their way. It was late when they approached what had once been a small settlement but had now thanks to the close attention and outlay of the Empire turned into a bustling sprawling community. One thing the Mandrake did well was to increase commerce and more importantly build settlements, towns and cities. As they neared the outskirts of the small town they noticed that what had been once muddy roads were now cobbled streets. Mead unbelievably had an infrastructure. The wagon drew up near to a man hanging from a wooden post. Around his neck was a message. ’Zero tolerance means No tolerance.’ By the rate of decay of his body he must have been there for some weeks. On another post was the name of this new town in big letters 'Medrakton'. The Towns buildings were also different being made of stone and not the small circular mud and thatched huts the Mead usually lived in. As they moved further into the town they could see that some of the public buildings were ornate and had marble pillars to their front. In the town square, larger than life, standing on a plinth looking out over the town, was a tall marble statue of Jin. Andreas and Nicholas moved closer to Achil who was busy taking in the scene, and after first making sure no one could hear him he pulled on the reins to slow the horses.

  “This is incredible in such a short space of time they have built all this. Everyone what I am about to say is just a gentle reminder. Be extra vigilant and careful this idea of theirs of 'Zero tolerance equals no tolerance' sends shivers down my spine. It means that there’s probably one punishment for all crimes, and from the person hanging at the entrance to this little hamlet we can easily see what that is. At least we now know that the price for treating with the Imperium is tyranny. If you engage in any kind of conversation don‘t expect people to have an opinion except that which the empire allows, which means you too must keep your opinions to yourselves. Such an edict is to keep the poor and the slaves in line. The well off in an Empire where anything can be bought or sold will be able to buy their way out of anything even the most horrendous of crimes so expect corruption to be widespread. Also remember we‘re just passing through on our way to the Silk Road. You three remain here while I ask for directions to Horrazim.”

  Achil jumped down from the wagon, he had not noticed he was being watched by what appeared to be two old campaigners, they were eyeing him curiously, as if looking for a little sport. Their hands rested casually on the hilts of their swords. As Achil crossed the road, one of them took it upon himself to brush past.

  “Hey see here, you meant that, challenging me is yee,” the man's gruff voice grated unceremoniously.

  He looked Achil up and down, a tall broad-shouldered rugged fellow; in fact he looked every bit a Wrath soldier of Marshal Ti. His face was narrow almost wolf like. He had piercing cold blue eyes, hair ran down his back. And he wore a burnished breastplate with the insignia of a moon inset by a wolf's head. He stood a few inches taller than Achil and looked quite imposing. The other was clearly a marauder, a tall blond haired man with a crafty grin; he was dressed similarly to his companion, who was now standing toe to toe with Achil.

  “Come on Ragman, enough fooling around, leave the merchantman alone, we’re off duty let's get to the tavern.” The man's friend began walking off in the opposite direction, already board with his colleague's mischief making.

  The one called Ragman also laughed, and slowly turned to follow him. Achil stood a moment watching his back; he gave a sideways glance to Andreas, who was easing his hand away from the hilt of his sword, before continuing on into the store. As Achil entered through open double doors, what he saw impressed him. There were all kinds of goods transported in from all corners of the empire. To the corner was a plough, next to it were sacks filled with cereal. There were shelves with mats hanging over them. There was a wheel for yarn. In a glass cabinet were all types of swords and daggers with smaller assorted knifes. Shields were hanging up on the walls, next to the longbows and crossbows. A small man who had just finished serving someone came over to Achil.

  “How can I help you sir.” He spoke with a slight lisp and had an amiable manner.

  “Actually I wish to get to Horrazim; I’m hoping you might point us in the right direction.” Achil tried to take on the mannerisms of a merchant.

  “Well let's see I could certainly be persuaded for a small fee to point you in the right direction.” The man kept up his charming smile.

  “And just how small a fee would that be?” Achil looked bemused this was one shopkeeper who did not miss a trick.

  “Say five copper coins.” He folded his hands together as if it were an insignificant charge.

  “I tell you what.” Achil looked over at some salted pork joint that was hanging from the ceiling. “I’ll buy that joint off you, but the directions I want for free.”

  The man looked over to where Achil was pointing. His smile was more mischievous now that he had enticed the s
tranger into a purchase.

  “Since you are now a customer I will agree to these terms. By the way that joint is worth one silver hexagon,” He offered Achil his hand. He then went behind the counter and pulled from beneath it a map of the area.

  "How much for the map," cried Achil.

  "I told you five copper coins."

  Achil paid the man with a shake of the head and a roll of the eyes.

  The man got the pork joint down and handed the map over. Achil placed the joint over his shoulder, thrust the map in his jerkin and walked back to the Wagon. Andreas and Nicholas had dismounted and were talking to Nishga who had also taken the opportunity to jump down from the rig and stretch her legs. The cobbles were smooth at least, with small grasses penetrating through some of them. People passed them by without affording them any real attention; it did appear that in this new cosmopolitan world of the Mead people did not have too much regard for strangers.

  “Right let's be on our way to Horrazim.” Achil helped Nishga onto the wagon, while Andreas and Nicholas quickly mounted their horses. Achil shook the reigns, at first the horses refused to yield to his protestations then slowly the wagon lurched forward.

  Nishga moved closer to Achil. “What did that guard say to you?” She was trying not to shout above the racket of the wheels, as they fought against the cobbled road.

  “It was not what he said.” Achil gazed across to where the two men had disappeared to. “It was who he was. He was a Wrath warrior. If they have stationed the Wrath this far west it can only be for one purpose. They intend striking soon. We must hurry Nishga.”

  “I would expect them to move troops into Mead as a matter of course. I’m sure its part of the strategy Jin employs when absorbing new peoples into his empire, and should it be necessary he would use them to put down any rebellion that might arise.”

  Nishga’s words did not comfort Achil; the thought that the Wrath were so close to the borders of Findolin could only mean one thing to him, Invasion. Jin was not the type of a man to use his most foul servants for anything other than vile deeds. Unless of course he felt there was always the need to assert his will over those he had subjugated.

  As they approached the border of the town they noticed a board with a written proclamation on it. Andreas moved closer so as to read it. When he got back he had a puzzled look on his face.

  “You’re not going to believe this. It’s an order prohibiting certain acts without the appropriate licences, for such things as the practice of Magic, or the right Religion. In fact you just about need a licence for everything, from eating to drinking the correct foods, to being a Smithy, a Joiner, Sculptor, Potter and the list goes on, it's actually quite extensive.” Andreas shrugged bewildered by it all.

  “Actually that’s very clever,” as Achil spoke, there was a clinical appreciation of what the Mandrake were doing. “It basically means it’s the Mandrake way or no way at all. When they do not conquer by arms they conquer by cunning. What they’re doing is forcing the people of Mead to adopt their ways. It’s a misconception that there’s religious tolerance here. Who in the lands of Mead can afford to pay so many taxes? I bet it's not many. In the end; everyone will adopt the ways of the Mandrake and why? So that they can buy, sell and eat. That’s great; it truly is an empire of equals if you have the wealth to survive it, and the guile to live it. They give you the illusion of choice when in reality there is none.”

  The people had been deceived into accepting something that they would ordinarily have fought to protect; which was the loss of their liberty. Unfortunately it was now too late for them to react to such a loss even if they had wanted to. What was it that could tempt a person into giving up their freedom?

  The wagon slowly rolled out of town and followed the path to Horrazim; it did not take long for the road to become rugged, more unkempt. League after desperate league past them by, they would stop to rest and eat, and then be on their way once more, all thoughts were set on the task ahead, the days drifted slowly and still they kept on. The road would rise and fall and every outpost past had one distinguishing feature, the banner of the Mandrake flying high overhead. Achil took the map out and after briefly studying it decided it was time to leave the road. They began to cut across country. It was tough terrain wild and uncompromising, more the way Mead was before the Mandrake had arrived. As the day drew on they approached a wood. Achil decided to follow its edge rather than enter into its deep gloom. Andreas was suspicious of it, and decided to scout ahead. If anything, it looked ominous, a place of secrets. Sure enough, no sooner had Achil warned Nishga to get into the back of the wagon and put her cloak on as a precaution. Out from the trees stepped five men, all with bows at the ready. They wore matching green hooded robes, tunics and breeches and dirty looking scuffed brown knee length boots. An almost perfect camouflage, one of the men stepped forward and pulled back his hood, revealing intense green eyes. His long dark hair now freed from its unnatural confinement flowed down his back.

  “This here is Free Mead. All those that pass must pay the tax. Unless of course you're Mandrake in which case you must die.” The man wore a chainmail coat; it was as unclean as he was unshaven as though he had been in the wilds for some time. He studied Achil and Nicholas. Nishga had disappeared from view. Andreas was also not to be seen.

  “I can see you are not from the Mandrake empire, so who are you.” The man said suspiciously.

  “We’re from Upper Mead.” Achil kept his face impassive, and held the reigns tight. The last thing he wanted was for his horses to startle, surge forward and spook the Archers into firing. The man looked at them and scoffed while his friends openly laughed.

  “That story may work on the Mandrake but not on us. If you're from Upper Mead then I’m an Abralian slug worm. My Commander will want to have words with you. Ventrigar you show our guests to the encampment.”

  The man named Ventrigar stepped forward, and climbed aboard the wagon, he drew back his hood and there was a gregarious looking chubby smiling face. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief and his greying beard certainly hinted that he was passed his youth. His long hair was still dark with no wisps of silver. He reached out, took the reigns from Achil and urged the horses on into the Wood. Nicholas followed on foot, his horse now tied to the rear of the wagon. The men were pleasant enough, marching in pairs. Achil looked from side to side trying to pick up clues as to where they were, and how to make it back out of the wood.

  “I’m afraid that’s not going to help you.” Ventrigar spoke with some amusement in his voice.

  “I thought it would be worthwhile to check the way we’re going. You know, for when I have to make my escape.” Achil emphasised the word escape.

  Ventrigar laughed raucously, and gave Achil a rough slap on the back.

  “Tell me,” Achil continued. “Why are you living out in the wilds? I thought everything was rosy in the Mandrake Empire.”

  “That's an interesting question coming from someone who's supposed to be from Upper Mead. Let's just say we had a difference of opinion.” The man said with a roguish smile.

  “Which was?” said Achil.

  “That our opinion was different from theirs," replied Ventrigar with a chuckle. “You know, mainly that people should be free to do what they want to do, and not what they're told to do.”

  He tugged at the reins, once more persuading the horses to take a different route. The wood stretched on, and became a forest. The day passed slowly with Achil more than once wanting to furtively glance back to see if Nishga had made her escape, not that he would have been able to tell as no doubt she was covered head to toe in the Chameleon cloak he also wondered where Andreas had got to. As they travelled and the evening drew near, the shadow became more pronounced. Large trees with trunks as thick as small houses disappeared into the ether. An insect which was the size of his hand appeared hovering at his side, he quickly swatted it away. The man riding along side him gave out another gruff laugh.

  “They're called Du
nking Flies. They hover above the tree canopy and feed on whatever they can. That one was just saying hallo. Not to worry, they're not venomous. Look there‘s our camp.”

  The man pointed toward an opening in the trees. Brush had been knitted into vast nets to camouflage the settlement.

  What greeted Achil was a community of huts surrounded by a wooden wall. The Huts were typical Mead homes, circular and wrapped in animal skins. The Wagon was tied up and Nicholas and Achil were taken to the Mead commander, whose hut was to the rear of the compound. The Flap was lifted and the two entered. To their surprise; Andreas and Nishga were there with what must have been the Tribal leader, a tall rough hewn man. Who stood upright and was not weathered by his age, grey alert eyes matched the silver streaks in his hair. He wore a long dark cloak beneath which was a brown jerkin that matched long breeches, his boots were caked with mud and though scruffy in appearance it could still be seen that he was a man of standing. And there was another man who wore a single hooded robe. The Tribal leader welcomed them in.

  “Do not be surprised, your wife came to us earlier, and proved to us that she was a powerful Shaman, which is a highly respected position among the Mead. My name is Suji.”

  He gestured for them to be seated on some cushions. The huts interior was basic. On the wall was Suji’s Sword and Shield, leaning up against it were a bow and a case full of arrows. To one side up against a wall was a bed covered with furs at the end of which was a large chest. To the other was a man named Shwin he was the local council elder and a Shaman. He had been discussing with Nishga her healing techniques.

  When they had seated themselves down comfortably, Suji explained how they had met Nishga. She had intervened in a skirmish with a Wrath patrol earlier in the day and had turned the tide of battle; she had then saved one of his men who he thought had been mortally wounded. Healing him had been an easy matter for someone with her skills.

  “So anyone who is the enemy of the Wrath is a friend to the Tribe of Urtiga. We used to be a people of lower Mead living mainly on the plains. Now look at us, forest dwellers hiding like rats in a hole.” He could not disguise his contempt.

  “I thought all the tribes of Mead had capitulated to the Imperium,” said Achil, reaching over to cut himself some meat to chew on.

  “You thought wrong. Why should we have to pay to worship or to hunt in our own lands? Such an arrangement is just wrong. But there is currently something terrible going on here.“ His voice lowered before continuing, “I am hoping your shaman can help us. You see the Curse of The Mandrake is upon us.” Suji’s eyes darted to each seated person in turn.

  “What do you mean?” Achil stopped chewing and listened more intently.

  “Shwin can better explain to you what is happening.” Suji gestured toward the Shaman who took his cue to begin.

  “Some of our men are changing, turning if you will.” He spoke in a whisper as though the subject were taboo.

  “Into what!?!” Achil sat up, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling; at the thought of what the Shaman might say.

  “Some have become Vendigo. The affliction started before the last full moon, you see we often raid the Mandrake caravans hereabouts, and I guess we were getting quite the reputation; as the last one we came upon, the Marauders we encountered faded into the dusk without putting up so much as a skirmish. How we revelled in that, not realising their true intent, so we dragged the booty back here where it soon became apparent that we had been duped in the most insidious manner possible; there was something in the wine that had an ill affect on my men. Those that drank it were overcome by some strange malady. One moment they were fine, and then they were consumed by the spirit of the Vendigo. They refused to eat or drink. In fact the very sight of water throws them into a rage. But that’s not all; they alter, become pallid. Their skin becomes translucent and actually burns at the touch of the suns heat. Their teeth have the appearance of mighty fangs. They seem to become crazed figures thrashing this way and that. Those of my people they come into contact with become contaminated by the same malady. And our wooden walls barely do enough to keep the evil out, they‘ll come for us again tonight. Will you help? Can you help?”

  “There is an invocation, conjured up by certain symbols that might work,” said Achil looking over to Nishga.

  Nishga nodded in agreement. “I need a place to draw the symbols. How many are afflicted that you know of.”

  “Fifteen of my men have disappeared into the dark that I am aware of.” He sighed deeply at the thought of it.

  “Then tonight we shall free you of this hardship once and for all,” said Achil.

  Suji nodded more in hope than belief. Even Shwin smiled something he had not done for a long time.

  “In return we shall help you to Horrazim. We know of secret paths unknown to the Mandrake.”

  After they had rested, before the evening was drawing close, Nishga began to draw the symbols in the earth at the centre of the encampment. Each symbol was a sign that had some mystical power. Achil was standing by her side looking to see the weak points in the defences of the Urtiga.

  “When they come we will need to herd them into the centre of this circle.” Nishga finished drawing the last symbol and stood up next to Achil. “What do you think?”

  “How do we find ourselves in these types of messes?” said Achil thoughtfully, as he began to inspect the compound.

  “Luck I guess,” replied Nishga turning back to see the distance from the gate to the symbols.

  Andreas, Nicholas, Ventrigar and a few other Mead tribesmen were close by discussing the best way to combat the Vendigo. Achil studied everyone in turn and considered their readiness to face the dangers ahead.

  “To bait the creatures we will leave the gate open and invite them to come at us from that direction. If these creatures are truly possessed they won’t suspect a trap. I’ll remain here and draw them inside and into the circle, when they’re all within the confines of it I‘ll then dive out of the way.”

  “You mean we’ll be waiting for them,” said Andreas. “You are not doing this on your own.”

  “Hey some of those people that are possessed are my friends,” interrupted Ventrigar. “So I’m definitely helping.”

  “You can include us as well," said another tribesmen gesturing to his friend also. “They are our kin after all.”

  “Well seven of us should be more than enough,” said Achil. “I know I don’t have to tell you this but even though they are your kin and we’re trying to save them; if they threaten your lives, you defend yourselves and not half-heartedly.”

  Achil looked round to see the sun begin its slow slide beneath the trees.

  “Okay everyone," shouted Achil. “You know what to do."

  People immediately moved into position on ramparts and behind huts. Achil, Nishga and their companions stood in the centre of the circle waiting. A quiet descended on the scene. All that could be heard was the shallow intake of breath of those within the circle.

  “How do you intend getting them in the circle,” whispered Andreas, moving a step closer to Achil.

  Achil tilted his head slightly as if listening. “I have a sort of idea.”

  “A sort of idea,” replied Andreas. “Sounds very similar to no idea.”

  Then someone above the gates signalled a threat was coming their way. The shadow and gloom was becoming more pronounced, outside the nocturnal life of the forest was beginning to wake. Achil could make out some dark silhouetted figures coming out of the trees and moving slowly toward them. Some walking staggered forms, soft light reflecting on crazed eyes. Achil gave out a sharp yell.

  “Overhear you wretched forms of sackcloth.”

  Andreas gave him a strange look that though not seen in the deepening gloom could certainly be felt. “That’s your sort of idea, throw insults at them.”

  To everyone’s surprise the creatures suddenly leapt forward with an unexpected alacrity, shrieking as they did so. As they entered the fort
they ran on into the circle. A cart was set alight and pushed in front of the gates blocking any escape. This enraged the creatures more; soon they were upon the objects of their rage, which was Achil and his companions. Achil thrust his shield into one possessed man’s face, pushing him to the ground. Another man with the spirit of the Vendigo upon him jumped on his back, again Achil managed to roll over throwing the man off in the process. His face was so thin, his eyes seemed to be popping out of his skull. The seven of them began to back out of the circle. The fighting was made all the more difficult by the fact that they were trying to fend the Vendigo off, as they went, rather than strike any fatal blows. Soon they had all withdrawn to beyond the circle. The creatures tried to follow but seemed to be prevented from doing so by some hidden barrier. Now it was Nishga’s turn. She held up her hands palms facing outwards. Coils of light began to emanate from them. They then struck out first hitting one figure then the next. Until all the creatures within the circle were consumed by streams of light. They all began to writhe, arching back, staring up into some unknown distance. From their mouths some vile black vapour was released, like some putrid puss from an open wound, it was devoured by the light. The men bent forward onto the ground succumbing to the strain placed on their weakened bodies. They all breathed deeply and retched, the pain of there subjugation at an end.

  Suji who had been standing on the wall watching the whole event unfold hurried across to a ladder.

  "That was truly different!" he cried, halfway down the ladder he practically fell off, slipping on the soft ground as he landed. “You truly are a powerful Shaman.”

  Suji ran up to Nishga and embraced her warmly. Shwin was already standing by her side, a mixture of gratitude and envy on his face.

  “We must celebrate." Suji began ordering his men to build a small pyre. He then ordered a large boar to be cooked for their guests and friends.

  As they sat in the open to eat round the fire the Mead began asking them many questions, of who they really were and why such great warriors with such a powerful Shaman would venture into the Mandrake Imperium.

  “That’s something we cannot talk about.” Achil spoke with disappointment that the question was being repeated.

  “Of course not, I understand. The reason why I ask is because I would like to help if I can.” There was true disappointment in Suji’s voice.

  “How long have you been fighting the Mandrake?” Achil was quick to change the subject.

  “Fighting them, ha!” His voice was dismissive of the word. “We have barely scratched them. The ones we kill are nothing to what they can set against us. We are nothing more than an irritation and a very minor one at that. One of my men went out to spy for me, and never returned so I sent another to see what happened to him. He found that he had been captured and tortured, placed in a metal cage for the crows to gnaw at. Now he greets all those that pass by that new stone mighty village of theirs. Look at us forced to leave our old tribal homes and seek shelter in these woods.” His voice lowered not wishing for the others to hear. “And we’re the lucky ones. Other tribes that revolted were found and completely wiped out.”

  Achil listened to the words carefully. What he was saying was an indication of what the Mandrake desired to do with Findolin. Suji began to explain what had become of the Mead, how their lands had been transformed, as the story went on Achil’s eyes began to weary, soon as the fire dimmed and the wine took affect they closed. Achil woke suddenly, brought back to reality by someone shaking him. At first he thought he was back in Findolin and tried to swat the hand away. Then his eyes shot open, it was Ventrigar.

  “There are Mandrake warriors not far from here. I will be your guide to Horrazim, but we need to be on our way at once.”

  Achil shot up. Nishga was talking with Shwin, while Suji was busy explaining something to Andreas and Nicholas. Ventrigar had the wagon brought up. There were hurried thanks and goodbyes. Achil and Nishga climbed onto the rig, while Andreas, Nicholas and Ventrigar followed close behind, as they road out of the gates. They were once more on the move, but this time the Mandrake were close behind, and they were being hunted.