by J. Thorn
Without needing a command, the lieutenant lined the bodies and stacked them. With the task complete, both men stood back under the fleeing Sun God to inspect their grisly work. The commander grabbed as many flasks of lamp oil as he could find and emptied them on the pile of rotting flesh. When the commander finished with the oil, the lieutenant tossed a lit torch onto the stack of bodies. Flames jumped from the point of contact and raced across the entire pile. The middle of the fort blazed with unholy black smoke and the smell of burning flesh.
“I think we should ride to the next outpost in the morning,” said the lieutenant. The men had dropped the formality of rank and conversed as friends.
“I fear we may find more of the same, and I do not feel like dragging more bodies to the funeral pyre.”
“We owe it to them and their families. No wife, daughter, or son should see a man in this condition.”
“Very well. Let’s drink and rest. We ride with the Sun God.”
Chapter 34
“Wait, I mean no harm,” Sianta said to the first child to observe her coming through the trees.
A boy, grimy and smiling, had not yet reached the Ceremony of the Sixth. “Do you want to play?” he asked.
“Maybe we can play later. Is your mother or father near?”
“He’s working. I’m not supposed to interfere or he will whip me.”
“My arrival is special. I don’t think he would mind.”
“Okay.”
Sianta followed the boy to a dwelling that sat on the northwest corner of the village plaza. A handful of one-story structures stood in the area. Worn shutters hung like lazy eyelids over open windows, vines of renegade ivy twisting up the structures and pulling them back down to earth in a slow embrace. Straw roofs had turned brown and moldy, and the smell of burning fuel sat atop the pervasive scent of cow manure.
She did not see anyone in the tired streets. The boy opened the door, and the heat that blossomed in the doorway stole Sianta’s breath. She stood on the threshold of a blacksmith’s workshop, where a middle-aged man stood behind a bellow constructed out of cowhide and connected to an oven. Three piles of black rock littered the floor, and a fine layer of dust covered everything in the shop. The man looked up and wiped the smeared grime from his face. His hands left white streaks across his eyes. The young boy’s father dropped the hammer on the anvil and set aside a glowing piece of iron.
“Lochi, I thought I told you not to disturb me when I’m working,” said the man. His voice carried authority, kindness, and fairness. Lochi ran behind the workbench and hugged the knees of his father, and Sianta smiled, unfurling her fingers from fists.
“This girl said she was special.”
The man stepped out from behind his workbench and looked at Sianta. She noticed that he hobbled on one leg. “Are you armed?” he asked her.
“No, sir, I am not.”
“You look as if you’ve been living with the animals of the forest.”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
The man paused and took a deep breath. He looked at a huge pile of unworked metal, frowned, and motioned for Sianta to follow him and his son.
“My name is Pesohj, and you have met my son, Lochi.”
“I am Sianta.”
Sianta followed them out of the back of the workshop. They walked an overgrown, crooked path into the trees, where another single-story dwelling stood. It leaned to the left and pieces of bark covered numerous holes in the roof. Pesohj opened the door and Lochi ran inside, but Sianta hesitated, peering into the darkened room before placing one foot inside the threshold.
Pesohj prepared Sianta a drink of ripened fruit juice and a dried piece of venison. She tore into the food, keeping her eyes on Pesohj. She belched and covered her mouth with a giggle.
“We have no need for formalities here,” said Pesohj, smiling as he placed more venison on the table before her. Lochi lost interest in the visitor and chased a spider to the opposite corner of the room. “We don’t get many travelers coming through the village. You drifted well off the worn path to the capital.”
“Yes, I had hoped that would be the case. I am a messenger and am doing my best to outrun a regiment of soldiers to the capital.” Sianta hesitated, unsure how much of her tale she was going to share.
“You look as if you’ve had a rough go.”
“I lost my mother.”
“I’m very sorry. My wife, the mother of my sons, left us for the Region of the Dead also. We have suffered.”
“Sons? You have another?”
“Yes. His name is Falton. He’s working the fields right now, but I will send Lochi for him. In fact, I’ll bet he has seen the same the number of suns as you. Lochi, go find Falton.”
Lochi squealed and ran through the door with a spider hanging from his wrist.
“Thank you for your kindness,” said Sianta, fighting back her emotions. She finished two more pieces of venison, satiating her hunger when Lochi and Falton returned.
Sianta watched Falton enter the room. He stood tall for a young adult and wore long, wiry hair. His bronzed skin was tight from days spent under the sun, and his muscles left no room for body fat. Falton had inherited his father’s features.
“Falton, meet Sianta.”
Falton nodded in her direction and sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room. Sianta felt invisible to him.
“Where were you working?” she asked.
“In the fields.”
“Am I keeping you?”
“Yes.”
Pesohj glared at Falton.
“I should go,” Sianta said.
“No, wait,” said Falton. “I can take you to the well and privy so you can clean up, if you want. We have some clothes that belonged to my mother that might fit you.”
He let a smile start on his face before reining it back.
“Falton, take care of our visitor and I’ll let the other families know we have a guest.”
“Yes, father. Can you take Lochi with you?”
“Yes. Lochi, come with me. We need to make some visitations. I will meet you back here when the Sun God finishes his journey. I think we have stories to exchange.”
Pesohj winked at Falton, who responded with a bright red face.
Sianta followed Falton to a cedar chest in the corner of their home. He lifted the lid and took out a cotton wrap and other accessories that had belonged to his mother. Her scent elicited a single tear. He carried the clothes towards the well with Sianta following behind.
“The well contains fresh water, or you can wash up in the creek. It runs behind those trees, a few paces in. I’ll wait here for you.”
Sianta accepted the clothes and walked towards the creek. She smiled at the boy and felt a stirring, the first desires of womanhood.
***
Falton sat upright on the rock and rubbed his eyes. He could not believe the transformation. Her dark brown hair framed a lovely oval face. The clothing sagged on Sianta, but she was able to tie it back in the right places, revealing the beginnings of curves that would shape her in maturity.
“Now what?” she asked with innocence.
“Let me show you the village.”
The two walked the perimeter of the hamlet, where they met other residents. Sianta thought it odd that she saw so few grown women. In addition, almost all of the adult males she met had some kind of physical disfigurement. She did not feel comfortable asking Falton about it and might not even have had time to hear the tale.
***
As the Sun God closed the Book of History on another day, Lochi and Pesohj waited for Sianta and Falton by the fire pit. Lochi attempted to spark the blaze with the guidance of his father. After three tries, a flash of light jumped into the pile of hay, sending smoke curling into the air. Sianta saw the charred corpses of her village through the new fire and chased the image from her mind.
“Please sit down,” said Pesohj to Sianta. Falton and Lochi sat as well.
“Would you like us to
begin, or would you like to start?” Customs dictated an introduction of strangers and exchange of histories around a campfire.
“I think I would like you to begin,” said Sianta.
“As you know, I live in this village with my two sons. We raise our own food and cattle, and my blacksmithing shop helps us to acquire any other materials we need to survive. The people in this village descended from a larger tribe. Two generations ago, the People of the Sun took control of the area and forced us to pay tribute. Several of the tribe members would not succumb to their rule and fled into the forest. It took the government of the Empire one generation to find us, and they levied a tribute on us as they had on other peoples.
“The excessive tribute went far beyond what we could produce by living as a clan. So, they decided that human tribute would make up for this deficiency. My wife, the boys’ mother, was one of the first stolen. A regiment from the capital came one day and took her. We hope they sent her beyond the Region of the Dead before she felt pain. This happened after Lochi’s birth, and we have not heard of her fate. Since then, other families lost women too. Without them, we will be the last generation of our people to live in the One World.”
Pesohj could see Sianta looking down at his missing leg. “In addition, the commanders of the regiment made sure we would not rise up against them. With their machetes, they removed a limb from every grown man, cauterizing the wound with a glowing piece of iron from my shop. Those who did not die from the amputation can be seen limping around the village.”
The fire hissed at the injustice, and Pesohj wiped tears from his face, though he could not remove the pain from his heart. Sianta looked at the boys and thought she should share her tale.
“This is the first time I have spoken of this. My mother and I lived on the edge of the Empire in a place called the village of the protectorate. Lord Major Acatel of the Dog People commanded a regiment that came to our village. He raped and killed my mother, murdered my village, and burnt it to the ground. I made my escape down the River of Rokin. My mother came to me in a vision and gave me a mission. She said I needed to get to the lord major of the Jaguar Knights and alert him of the invading forces, but that I had to get to him before Acatel and his men arrived. My mother said that if the People of the Sun do not hold reserve forces in the capital, dark forces will determine the fate of our people. So, I cut from the main trail, which brought me into your village.”
“Do you plan on continuing your mission?” asked Falton.
“Yes, at first light.”
Lochi fell asleep with his head in his father’s lap.
“Do you expect us to help you, to help you aid the people that killed my wife and maimed me?”
“I expect nothing from anyone but myself.”
“Father, I want to help her,” said Falton.
“I forbid it. Sianta needed help and we followed the laws of man. We did our duty to god and human. I will not aid the murderer of my wife.”
“But, father, don’t you understand the message? If the People of the Sun die, so does the One World.”
“He is right, Pesohj. My mother told me that I must deliver the message to save my soul.”
“Enough. I am the man of the house and I forbid any of my sons to aid the enemy. Cover the fire. Sianta, there is a bedroll on the floor of the shop that I hope you find to your liking.”
Falton stood up with his fists clenched. He started to speak, closed his mouth, and stomped back towards the home. Sianta turned and headed in the opposite direction, towards the shop.
***
At first light, Sianta gathered the necessities that Pesohj had given her. She walked towards the village center with the intention of leaving. Pesohj had welcomed her as family, but he did not approve of her mission. It would be best for her to move on alone.
As she abandoned the village and cut through the trees, noises caught her attention. The forest consumed all sound, and this worried her. Sianta started jogging, her roll flopping around on her back. She sensed a pursuer and broke into a full sprint. She did not fear dying, but she did fear failing and letting her mother down. A vine twisted up and around her ankle, and she crashed to the rocky ground, dazed but unhurt. Sianta lay on her back, looking up at the Sun God rising above the tops of the trees. A figure stepped into her view, blocking out the Sun God and looming over her.
Chapter 35
“Warriors of the Jaguar Knights, hear my voice!” said Machek.
He was dressed in the full battle regalia of the Jaguar Knights. Golden medallions covered his chest. Dozens of regiment commanders stood by his side, prepared for the inevitable conflict. Machek and his brass stood atop a rocky outcrop overlooking a dead quarry. Birds flirted with the heavens, squawking their disapproval of the impending violence. The scent of sandalwood filled the air as campfires burned the fragrant wood for luck in battle. The absence of the limestone mined long ago created an artificial amphitheater, reflecting all sounds off the stone walls. Thousands of soldiers stood at attention, looking up at their leaders on the precipice of the rock.
“I follow the custom of all lord majors before me in addressing you on the eve of battle. Our destiny does not ask us to question the motives behind war. We do not have the luxury of rationalization and discussion. That is the job of the inner council and the politicians. Forces in the One World conspire to stamp the People of the Sun from existence. Be certain, my fellow soldiers, this is not a War of the Flowers. Neither side will take prisoners. This is a War to the Knife. Fight like it.”
A roar erupted from the soldiers and echoed off the rock walls.
“Many of you have women and children whom you leave behind. The Book of Horoscopes took mine, but I stand here, ready to give my life for yours.”
Weapons smacked armor and cheers rose from the canyon floor.
“We fight not for a cause, or an ideal. We fight not for freedom, duty, honor, or to appease the gods. We fight for our very survival. If we fail in turning back the infidels, the People of the Sun will cease to exist in the One World. The freedom we granted them was not enough. The release from tribute and foreign rule was not enough. Only our spilled blood will quench their thirst for retribution. As we organize and prepare for battle, regiments gather outside the capital. We have word that Lord Major Acatel, the brutal warrior chief of the Dog People, prepares to launch the initial attack. The infidels banded into what they label ‘the coalition.’ They recruit tribes as they travel from Risenachen to our capital. Other sources tell us that strange warriors have arrived from the edge of the Great Sea, bringing dark powers beyond our comprehension. Therefore, we must launch a preemptive strike.”
Soldiers cheered and threw their hands into the air in support of Machek’s decision.
“I have consulted the council, the chief elder, the Soothsayer, and others. Waiting for our enemies to lay siege to our capital would be suicide. We must march out to meet our foes and engage them on the field of battle, not invite the bloodshed into our homes. Acatel’s forces will reach us in one day’s march. Drink, gamble, and fuck, for tomorrow we wipe blood from our swords.”
His final words sent the regiments into a frenzy. The commanders next to him looked at each other with wide eyes and puffed chests before they stepped back and dropped to one knee, staring into the dust at Machek’s feet. He motioned for the war heroes to stand and took his place amongst them.
***
The Soothsayer watched the delivery of Machek’s words through the fire in his dwelling. The vision wavered in the heat, but he heard the message. Machek would lead his regiments out in a preemptive strike, bringing doom to his people. He waved his hand and the vision joined the smoke that climbed out of the dwelling.
“You see, he trusts me. The chief elder shows weakness and will not question Machek’s decision.”
The dark figure remained motionless in the corner. He had observed the delivery along with the Soothsayer. “I have one more concern,” he said.
“Ye
s?”
“The Spirit sent a young girl to warn Machek. She delivers a message from beyond and possesses great power. She must not make it to Machek before the forces clash.”
“What is her name? Where does she come from?”
“I do not know. I would expect you would find out, unless you would like your soul to spend eternity under the heel of my boot.”
The Soothsayer shuddered at the dark figure’s words and hobbled out of his tent.
***
Machek moved through the tents and fires cropping up amongst the men. Soldiers drank and smoked, while others enjoyed the company of women, and some sat in reflective solitude. Each fire generated heat and amplified the nervous energy of those around it. Soldiers saluted Machek as he walked past, offering mugs, or flasks. Some of the more intoxicated troops offered him whores. He smiled and declined the offers, walking towards a regiment near the middle of the camp.
“Lord Major, I am honored that you would visit me on the eve of battle.”
Machek smiled at his old friend and confidant, Desi. “Which weapon does a farmer bring to battle?” he asked.
“The one I’ll use to dig your grave,” replied Desi. The two men broke into hearty laughter and sat around the fire.
“What is the talk amongst the men, dear friend?”
“They look forward to the fight. They realize we face extinction by our own hands, but our proud people will not sit and have our fate handed to us by a bunch of dogs.” Desi’s reference to the despicable Dog People was not lost on Machek.
“And of my decision to march instead of defending the capital?”
“Not a second guess.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
