What Was Forgotten

by Tim Mathias

  He could see some of the prisoners tied to separate carts and hoped that they would have quick deaths. They had chosen their fates. Let them have it. Let it be done. He wondered what it must feel like to be among the last of your people, to know that your entire history existed only within your mind…

  “I heard you approach,” Zayd said. Tascell sat beside him. “Only in the last few feet, though. Well done. You ought to be resting though. Your watch will come soon enough.”

  “I can’t be down there when Talazz is eating. I think one of the supply carts carries just his food.”

  “It does.”

  “I wonder which the prisoners find more frightful – his greatsword or his appetite.”

  “They are equally destructive.” Several moments passed where neither of them spoke. “Why have you come up here?” Zayd asked.

  “I need to ask you… I need to tell you… I have to go back.”

  “Back where?”

  “I have to go back for him. I should never have left him like that. It isn’t right. He should be brought home. He deserves that much. So I have to go.”

  “You can’t,” Zayd said. “You know what will happen. Don’t put your wife and daughters at risk, Tascell. You’re letting your grief get the best of your reason.”

  “I’m not, vahr. I don’t think they will notice. How closely are they really watching us? Would they know if one of us was missing? I think most of them would be grateful.”

  “And what if they do find out? What if Praene discovers that I knew and allowed you to do this? Had you realized you were asking me to risk my family in allowing this? You must not have.”

  Tascell looked away. “No, I… I’m sorry.”

  “Finish this,” Zayd said as he placed a hand on Tascell’s shoulder. “See it to the end, and once it is finished we will go back together. We’ll bring him home.”

  They were slow to resume the march the following day. Areagus was almost always the first person out of his tent, aside from the sentries. Praene was not awake until the sun was already whole in the sky. Zayd watched the new commander wander about the camp as it gradually collapsed. Praene shielded his eyes from the morning sun as he walked uncertainly, surveying the slow progress of his men.

  Daruthin appeared next to Zayd, carving an apple in half with a stone edge he had probably carved out during his watch. “He was still awake during my watch,” Daruthin said, handing half of his apple to Zayd. “He and a few of the knights of the Ninth. Guffawing. Drunk. No mystery why Vaetus chose Areagus to lead.”

  “You’re supposed to be watching the perimeter, not the commander’s tent.”

  Daruthin shrugged. “Nothing to watch. Most of the trouble we’ve had so far has come from within the ranks.”

  “And what of yesterday morning?” Zayd asked as he took a bite of the apple.

  “The exception. It’s not like they were Roh Dun’s Shields. Though they could have been, I guess. How would I know? I never fought them.”

  “They weren’t. The Shields are ten thousand strong. How were the prisoners last night?”

  “Not a sound. I think the big one learned to behave.”

  Zayd glanced over at the tall, muscular Dramandi. Perhaps, Zayd thought. Or he was just waiting. Even with his hands bound and having been beaten bloody the day before, he still looked undaunted.

  Daruthin threw the core of his apple on the ground. “Barrett tried to see him last night,” he said softly. “Tried to see Praene in his tent, but Praene wouldn’t see him. I haven’t seen Barrett that full of rage since you spat in his face.”

  What did Barrett want to speak to Praene about so desperately?

  “Was it about the prisoners?” Zayd asked.

  “Doubtful. Barrett doesn’t pay them any mind. I actually saw him order some of the other men to leave the big one alone. Surprised me.”

  Daruthin must have been right. Barrett would not care about the prisoners, whether they lived or died; he cared about battle, the next battle, when it would come and the glory it would bring. Battle in the name of the Empire.

  Just after midday the column came up on rapids. It became clear that Commander Praene had not ordered any of the knights to scout ahead. The column came to a halt as a handful set out on horseback to find a place where they could cross. Many of the men looked frustrated. Praene, however, did not seem to care.

  Zayd was resting in the carriage when the call out to halt stirred him. He went down to the rapids to fill his water skin, and he splashed some water on his face to shake off the drowsiness he felt. It was cold and pure, not unlike the waterfall by the old willow tree…

  He wondered if this had this had been on the map. Was Praene expecting to come across it and simply neglected to send outriders to scout ahead? Or was it not on the map at all? He wiped the water from his eyes, scooped some more into his hands, and drank. If it was not on the map, how could Praene even know where they were going?

  From where he knelt at the rapids, Zayd could see Praene amidst a cluster of knights, talking to them amicably. He doubted that the new commander could read the stars at night like a map as most Tauthri could. He was certain that Areagus would have consulted him had they become lost, and since Areagus and Praene seemed to naturally antagonize one another, Areagus likely kept Praene ignorant to this fact.

  He walked down towards the group of knights, and as he neared, the knights seemed to close up around the new commander as if to protect him from some threat, their easy bravado between each other changing instantly to thinly-veiled hostility. Garinus Corwin, the most decorated soldier of the Ninth next to Praene, stepped forward to intercept Zayd.

  Garinus was in his mid-thirties but carried himself with the weight of the many battles he had fought. His short brown hair already had signs of grey, and the two-day stubble on his face was nearly white. Compared to Barrett and the other Silver Sun knights, Garinus was a lean fighter, slender but with broad shoulders. “The commander is busy,” Garinus said.

  Zayd tilted his head to look past Garinus and saw Praene behind him, still talking to the other knights, but he glanced over his shoulder at him.

  “Is that so?” Zayd said. “I’d like to speak with him all the same.”

  Garinus looked taken aback. Clearly he had expected Zayd to move along without any objection. He smiled coolly. “I’m not concerned with what you’d like. You don’t get to. So run along, dark eye. Make yourself useful. Go clean the horse shit off of the prisoners again.”

  He spoke loud enough for the others to hear, and the other knights laughed amongst themselves. Garinus smiled, obviously amused by his own jape.

  “He doesn’t look busy,” Zayd said. “Step aside.”

  The smile vanished from Garinus’ face.

  “Garinus, it’s fine,” Praene called. “It’s fine, I’ll speak with him.”

  The knight stepped aside and gestured dramatically for Zayd to walk past. Zayd felt the urge to smile gratefully, but he ignored the knight altogether. Praene was sitting on a large rock and was, of all things, cleaning his armour. With his chest plate off, he looked out of place among his more intimidating subordinates. He instead looked as though he was more suited for priestly duties, not the demanding tasks of regiment command. Zayd knew that Praene was an intelligent man, and equally brave. Yet this was perhaps why he had not been promoted past his present station. Greater leaders like Areagus must not have thought much of him.

  Zayd saluted, and Praene returned it dismissively. “What is it?” he asked, disinterested.

  “I thought I might offer my assistance to you, commander, in case we run into further difficulty navigating the countryside.”

  “Does it seem like we’re having difficulty? Does it seem like I’m having difficulty?”

  Zayd paused. “Yes.” The other knights tensed visibly. Some exchanged glances. Praene looked up from his task, expressionless for a moment, then he smiled.

  “I see that lack of honesty is not a flaw or yours,”
he said.

  “And a sense of direction is not one of yours, sir. Where exactly are we headed?”

  Garinus grabbed Zayd by the back of the neck and his other arm went around his throat. “You arrogant little bastard!”

  “Stop!” Praene shouted, rising to his feet. Garinus relaxed his grip, but did not release him. The commander walked over so he was face-to-face with Zayd and spoke quietly so none outside the circle would hear. “I know where we are and where we’re headed. It’s fine if you don’t or anyone else doesn’t know. It only matters that I know. Just keep your mind on your own tasks, is that clear?” The false reassurances sounded all too familiar. It was what he had expected. Zayd nodded.

  Praene smiled. “Good. I knew you were a sensible man, if somewhat… forthright. Corwin, let him go. I’m sure he has things to do.” The commander turned around and returned to his seat on the rock and resumed his menial task. Garinus was still watching Zayd intently as he walked away.

  Crossing the water delayed them for several hours. After the encounter with Praene, Zayd kept to himself and examined the incident in his head repeatedly. He knew that something was not right, but the way Praene had acted confirmed it. Where he ought to have reprimanded, he instead pacified. It made no sense to him, and he could not escape the feeling of unease even when they made camp that night. He was so distracted that he did not hear Tascell approach to relieve him of his watch, and if the lieutenant noticed anything of Zayd’s absentmindedness, he said nothing.

  As Zayd walked back from the camp perimeter, he heard a meek voice calling to him.

  “Gattra! Gattra!” The Dramandi woman was sitting on the ground next to the supply cart, hands still tied, and someone had taken the added precaution of tying her feet together as well. For the first time, Zayd saw a look on her face that was something other than hostility.

  “What is it that you are moving?” she nodded towards rear of the camp, towards the other carriages.

  “Things from Yasri,” Zayd said. He felt a twinge of regret in being so blunt. It must have showed.

  “Yes…” She looked down for a moment. “But, what else did you take?”

  Zayd’s eyes narrowed.

  “You dug it up, didn’t you?” she whispered.

  Zayd said nothing. How did she know? Some of the soldiers may have spoken of it, but as far as he knew, she did not speak the true-tongue.

  “What have you heard?” he asked.

  “It’s not what I heard, it’s what I saw.”

  Zayd looked around before sitting on the ground to face her. “What was it you saw?”

  She was on the verge of replying, but she hesitated. “What was it you saw?” he repeated.

  “I saw spirits. I could see them again now, if I… if I looked. Do you understand?”

  Zayd nodded and tried to hide his distaste. She was a seer, one of the Dramandi who could speak with the dead. The Ryferians called it communing, something done only by Trueborn priests. Zayd had always thought the term was deceitful. They did not commune – they purged. It was the will of Xidius, though, and he had accepted this long ago when Tauth finally surrendered.

  “You worship their man-god, don’t you?” the Dramandi woman asked. “I can see your hate for me. But what they have taken from the ground is plagued by spirits. They stand by it. Guarding it. Waiting. Corrupting everything around them.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Does it matter? Whatever it is should be reason enough for you to put it back in the ground!” Her eyes were wide. Zayd ran his finger through the dirt as he looked at her. If she was lying, it was being masterfully done.

  “I know that seers like you seek spirits out, so why are you so fearful that you see some now?”

  “Because they are not the forebears of my people. I don’t know where they’ve come from, but I can tell there is something they want, and it is sinister.”

  Zayd smiled and shook his head.

  “What? Why are you laughing?”

  “If only you had had this realization before we went to war. You could have let our priests cleanse your land. You could have spared yourself from this.”

  She shot forward as much as her restraints would allow. “Our land did not – does not need your cleansing or your man-god. We’ve walked through the evernight for hundreds of years and you think that you know better because your priests say so. For no other reason! I thought you would understand since you are not one of them.” She sneered and sat back. “You do not understand. You are one of them.”

  Zayd stood. The woman looked away from him but gave him a sidelong glance. “There will be evil that happens, and when it does, you’ll wish you had listened,” she said.

  It must have been a ploy; for whatever reason, the Dramandi did not want the monolith to be taken from their land. Or maybe they just did not want the gold in the possession of the Empire. There must be some significance to it even though the markings on it were not made by the Dramandi, so far as they knew.

  There was some undeniable effect the monolith had. Zayd had felt it when he first saw it: the feeling of looking at a piece of some great mystery, or reading a riddle that you are afraid to answer. Zayd had always rationalized that feeling by the sheer immensity and awe that such a wonder naturally inspired. Yet he began to wonder if she was being truthful, and if so, what that could mean. If there was an aura of corruption around it, it might explain Willock’s death and Renton Allus killing Corporal Perrin for no real reason. There was always hostility between the Trueborn and the Tauthri, but it seldom led to murder. Renton had not been one to let his anger control him, and Zayd admitted to himself that Renton’s actions were wholly out of character for him. Nothing on the journey had been easy. Could she have somehow found out about Renton and Willock? Was she inventing ghosts to try to manipulate him?

  Zayd turned to her. “The relics are going to Lycernum, and our priests will cleanse them of any influence.”

  Before she replied, Zayd turned at the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. Barrett Stern approached. “Come with me,” he said, and began to walk away. After Zayd felt the hilt of his blade at his side, he followed. Barrett walked to the perimeter of the camp, away from the soldiers. Away from anyone who might see or hear them. Though Zayd could see perfectly, Barrett, carrying no lantern or torch for light, stepped carefully as he went and stopped once the light of the few campfires was obscured by the trees. Zayd kept his hand on his hilt.

  “I saw that you talked to Praene.”

  “What of it?”

  “What did you talk to him about? It was about where we’re marching, wasn’t it?”

  Zayd recalled what Daruthin had told him earlier. “Did you speak to him about it?”

  “I tried. He wouldn’t hear of it, though. I wanted to see the map. That was what I was really after. Tell me – what did he say to you? Did he say anything?”

  “Nothing of substance. He told me that he knew what he was doing and that I should mind my own tasks.”

  “He was placating you.”

  “I know. If he had a real plan he could simply explain it to us, but he’s reluctant.”

  “He isn’t reluctant, he’s lying.” Barrett ran a hand over his beard and gave Zayd an apprising look before saying anything further. “Did you notice that he separated the Eighth and Ninth Regiments the day after the attack? The Ninth is now at the head of the column.”

  Zayd had noticed. “I assumed that was only his favouritism. He chafed when Areagus had the Eighth bringing up the rear.”

  “What if there is another reason?”

  “The Eighth took most of the casualties from the attack. Does it not make sense to move the Ninth to the front?”

  “What if it’s something else yet?” Barrett asked. “What if he has a plan?”

  It was clear that Barrett had something very precise that he was not saying. “Why bring your concerns to me? Why not Alain or Savas?”

  Barrett stared at him. “I still may, but…
”

  “You don’t know if you can trust them,” Zayd said.

  “I didn’t think anyone else shared my suspicion.”

  “You think he is defecting,” Zayd said.

  Barrett nodded. “He has no family, no children, a lackluster military record… now he has a regiment loyal to him, and he’s in possession of a kingdom’s fill of gold. What reason does he have to go back to the capital? Why not disappear into the vastness of the Empire with enough treasure to drink fine wine every day until he dies? I am only unsure of how many of the Ninth are with him. Garinus Corwin, Devon Rindus, and their ilk, to be sure… perhaps all of his knights.”

  The reason Barret had come to him finally dawned on Zayd; he knew Zayd was loyal, had to be loyal, or else the Ryferian garrison in Tauth would execute his family, and in Lycernum, his son. If Praene succeeded in defecting, it could be assumed the entire column was complicit. For Zayd and for every other Tauthri with him, the monolith had to reach Lycernum, or it would be the same punishment for them all.

  “And what of the Eighth? Areagus’ men… I don’t think they would be so weak-willed.”

  “I would agree… but I cannot be certain of it. Of anything. For all I know, you and I are the only two.” Barrett’s expression hinted to Zayd that he exerted himself in including him in that statement.

  “We should remove Praene from command,” Zayd said.

  “Be more prudent, would you? If we try to do that, the ogre will see it as an act of treason, whether or not Praene means to defect. Then it will be our heads.”

  Barrett was right. Talazz, like all En Kazyr giants, was unfailingly loyal and observant of every rule and regulation. And despite how accepting he was of Zayd and the other Tauthri, the giant had no friends. Every soldier was a potential rule-breaker, and someone he may have to punish. During the siege of Yasri, Talazz and Renton had shared several old war stories with fondness, but the giant did not hesitate to carry out his duty when the time came. Zayd had always stood beside the giant. He was not eager to stand against him.