by J. Thorn
Bodies twisted in unnatural configurations. War never followed rules of fairness or civility. A detachment of the soldiers fought through the carnage, and warriors of the Dog People crawled towards their homelands with their entrails dragging behind. The Jaguar Knights put a dagger through the heart of any survivor.
“Sir, come and look at this,” said one of the Jaguar Knights.
The commanding officer stepped over a headless body and stood next to his soldier. Four bodies tangled in a dance of death. One wore the battle armor and medallions of Lord Major Acatel of the Dog People. He lay face down with gaping wounds in his back.
“Yes, Lord Major Machek will be very pleased to know we killed Acatel.”
“Sir, I’m not so sure about that. I think Acatel may have escaped.”
Bewilderment and anger registered on the commanding officer’s face. “How did he do that when his body lies broken before us?”
The soldier rolled him over, revealing the blood-splattered face of a young Jaguar Knight, complete with customary war paint.
“I know this man, and he is not Lord Major Acatel.”
***
Medics took Acatel to a filthy tent set far back from the front lines. Other Jaguar Knights surrounded him on cots, most moaning and wishing for death. The medicine men attended to the dying first, giving Acatel an opportunity to leave. He stood up from his cot and winced from the self-inflicted wound on his thigh. His bleeding leg gave him an authentic limp and battle injury, but a medicine man came towards him and saw the grimace of pain on his face.
“You need to lie down, soldier. We will get to you soon, but standing on that injury will make it worse.”
“Yes, thank you. I wish to see if my dear friend lives. His cot sits near the entrance to the tent.”
“Just for a moment, and then I want you off your feet.”
Acatel smiled and hobbled towards the opening of the tent. Dozens of men, doctors, and wounded soldiers moved in and out of it. He slipped through the opening unnoticed.
Acatel gazed back upon the battlefield. He knew in his heart that his regiments could not have won the battle, but he had a duty to fulfill. He would take ten thousand regiments to their death against the People of the Sun, if necessary.
***
A village stood just south of the battlefield, where soldiers milled about and accepted food from gracious citizens. Acatel knew that the longer he stayed, the more chances there would be for someone to engage him in conversation and discover him. He dashed to a full stable. Horses whined and kicked the dirt, and exhausted Jaguar Knights covered in dried blood and mud slept on hay in stalls next to them. Two men sat in one stall, discussing the battle. Both had slings around their arms and shared a flask of whiskey.
“ . . . But had I seen his sword coming up, I would have dodged earlier!”
The other man laughed and handed him a flask. Acatel stood in the doorway, looking at the two men.
“Hello, fellow Jaguar Knight. Please sit and share a drink with us.”
Acatel grinned and sat opposite the two men. An oil lamp hung on the wall, throwing meager light on the floor of the stable.
“What is your name and rank?” the one solider asked.
“I am Lord Major Acatel of the Dog People,” he replied.
Both men sat, staring into his eyes, unsure whether to laugh or flee. Before they could make that decision, Acatel slit their throats with his dagger. He left them coughing their last breath in blood as he rode from the stable on a stolen horse. Acatel ignored the shouting behind him as he rode towards the forest and the land of the coalition.
Chapter 37
“Hush. Do not make a sound, or the others may hear you.” Falton stepped outside the golden halo of the Sun God.
Sianta took a deep breath and hung on his words. “What are you doing?”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Why?”
“My father does not understand me. I am of age and he does not have the right to forbid me to do anything.”
“But the People of the Sun killed your mother. Why do you want to help them now?”
“If we fail, I feel like the entire One World will be thrown into chaos.”
Sianta thought about the message from her mother. “Yes, that is a feeling I have as well. I am not a loyal citizen of the Empire, but I must do this for the sake of everyone.”
“Let’s go before someone realizes I’m gone.”
Falton held out his hand. Sianta took it and he pulled her to her feet, their lips within a breath of each other. Sianta tilted her chin up and looked at Falton, and he put his arms around her waist. They closed their eyes during an awkward and clumsy kiss, the first for both. Sianta caressed his tongue with hers and could not ignore the burning sensations below her waist.
“C’mon. We need to get to the capital before Acatel.” Sianta’s words broke the spell. Both looked away with nervous energy and picked up belongings off the ground.
They hiked through the deep woods for the better part of a day. As the two broke through a clearing, they heard the harsh reality of war. At first, it sounded like a construction crew working on a temple or public works project. Soldiers appeared, fulfilling orders from a commanding officer. The warriors looked tired and worn, not even bothering to glance at the young couple. One soldier came busting through the trees on horseback at full gallop, blood oozing from a wound in his thigh and painting his horse red. He sneered at them as he passed. A cold shiver ran down Sianta’s back and made her shudder.
Sianta held Falton’s hand and led him through the final set of trees into a clearing. A protruding outcrop of rock stood at the far end. Men moved on its summit like ants. A violent scene spread out before them like the churning waters of the Great Sea. Falton stopped and stood next to Sianta. The Sun God fell behind the bare outcrop, casting a deep, yellow haze. The war machine had strewn bodies about, some lying at grotesque angles. Vultures feasted on body parts, including heads. Soldiers, Knights of the Jaguar, moved through the dead. They removed armor and weapons and then dragged bodies by their feet towards a central pile of corpses. To the east, a mound of the dead had caught fire, and the flames cast a pallid orange glow on the faces of the men surrounding it. The stench of charred flesh filled the air and Sianta recoiled from the smell. It triggered an unpleasant memory of her own village, set to flame by Acatel.
“This is not a sight for a young woman,” said Falton.
“My eyes have seen more than you can imagine.”
The two moved through the carnage to the closest officer of rank. Falton told Sianta to let him do the talking because the soldier might find her assertiveness offensive.
“Sir. May I ask what happened here?”
The soldier gave Falton an inquisitive look. He started to say something but hesitated. Another warrior came to his side and asked a question. He responded and turned back to the two children standing before him.
“War,” he replied to Falton.
“Has the Empire succeeded in turning back the infidels?”
At the mention of the Empire, the commander’s chest swelled with pride. His face lit up and words poured from his mouth. “Yes. We spurned their first weak attempt at a strike. They call themselves the coalition, but they will always be the Dog People, begging at our table for scraps. We rallied around Lord Major Machek. His decision to march out and meet the enemy provided us with our first victory in quelling the rebellion.”
“Do you think the lord major will order more preemptive strikes on the coalition, based on your success here?”
“That would be a logical thing to do, it would seem.” Sianta shuffled her feet and looked at Falton.
“Sir, would it be possible for us to cast our gaze on the mighty lord major of the Jaguar Knights?”
“He sits in the command tent plotting out the movements of our regiment. Over there.” He pointed to a painted tent. They looked through the flames of the funeral pyre to see it wavering like a mira
ge. The commanding officer pulled back as if he had provided the enemy with critical intelligence.
“You children, run off now. There is much work to be done to restore peace to the Earth Goddess on this sacred ground.” He turned as another soldier under his command requested attention.
Falton and Sianta ran through the battlefield to the tent. Sianta wondered how she was going to secure an audience with the lord major. She had come this far and would not fall short of her goal. Falton pulled a scrap of cloth from his tunic and handed it to Sianta. She saw that he had one covering his nose and mouth, so she did the same. He pulled her close and pushed her head into his chest in an attempt at protecting her from the sights and sounds of war. They stopped near the tent, where soldiers continued to enter and exit the command center. Two sentries stood guard on each side of the flap.
“Hello. Can I get a message to the lord major?”
Neither sentry moved a muscle, as if carved from granite.
“Please, it is very important,” said Sianta, trying a second time to engage the guards.
“The lord major is not accepting messages from citizens at this time,” replied the sentry on the right.
“C’mon, Sianta, we should go,” said Falton.
He turned to face her and saw nothing. She crumpled on the ground at the feet of the guards. He looked at the soldiers and they remained stoic, but he bent down and confirmed she was still breathing.
***
Sianta floated high above the Earth Goddess, the wind pushing her hair away from her face. The Empire of the People of the Sun stood below her. The sprawling buildings and structures stretched like tentacles into the surrounding forest. Air brushed by her ears, blocking all other sound. Sianta tasted the salt of the ocean on the wind. The unseen force that gave her flight pulled her down towards the treetops in a measured and safe way.
A ragged tent sat on the outskirts at the tip of one of the tentacles, smoke drifting from its center. A man entered the tent and Sianta knew this was Machek, Lord Major of the Jaguar Knights. She floated inside the tent, unnoticed by its occupants. An elderly man, crippled and hideous, sat across the fire from Machek, and to their left sat Sianta’s mother. She motioned for Sianta to sit opposite her. Shinta shimmered in the low light, flickering with the flame. She put her finger to her mouth, instructing Sianta to keep quiet. Sianta did so and followed her mother’s lead. She could not hear the conversation, but watched their mouths move. A disagreement festered between the two men. Sianta closed her eyes and saw the words flash across her mind’s eye.
When she opened them, Falton stood above her with a worried look creasing his forehead. She thought he looked like a guardian of the gods watching over her.
“Sianta, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I think the smoke has made me a bit lightheaded. Can you fetch me some water?”
Falton sprang into action at her command. Sianta locked eyes with the guards, and asked if they would pass along a message to the lord major. In a synchronized motion, both men nodded in affirmation. Sianta took a piece of charcoal and ripped a strip of fabric from the bottom of her tunic. She scribbled on it and handed it to the sentry on the right. He disappeared behind the flap of the tent and returned with Lord Major Machek of the Jaguar Knights.
Machek pointed at Sianta. “Come inside,” he said.
***
The activity in the tent stole Sianta’s focus. Groups of commanders stood over tables strewn with faded military maps. Men argued and debated strategy. Servants whisked food, drink, and pipes to the battle-weary men. Machek guided Sianta through the tent to another unfastened flap. This private area served as his command center. She entered behind him, and Machek motioned for her to sit on the pillow as he sat facing her.
“Where did you get this?” he asked. Sweat formed on his forehead and upper lip.
“I saw it.”
“You spied on me?”
“No. I saw it in a vision. I think my mother guided me to it.”
“Where is your mother?”
“She exists with the Spirit, waiting to enter the Region of the Dead.”
Machek shook his head and read the piece of cloth again. Other high-ranking generals gathered around, shooting looks at each other. Machek read it aloud. “Our enemy has grown many heads.”
The reading had no effect on Sianta. She continued to sit and stare at the lord major.
“Do you know what that means?” Machek asked.
“No, sir. My mother’s spirit sent me here. The message I carry can save the One World from total annihilation. She told me my fate depended on this as well.”
“Who was, uh, is your mother?”
“She is Shinta. Acatel raped and murdered her.”
Machek shivered at the name. Visions of the disguised body floated though his mind.
“When?”
“Recently. I hoped to beat Acatel’s army and deliver the message before you engaged him. It looks as if I did not make it in time, but the message is valid nonetheless.”
“You speak like a woman of the world, and yet you are still a child.”
“I speak with the gods on my tongue. My mother told me to travel through the forest to the capital of the People of the Sun. She said I must arrive before the legions of the Dog People. I am supposed to tell you not to engage the combatants on your land. You should swallow your pride and not strike first.”
Machek listened to Sianta and digested her words. “But I have already engaged them.”
“I think the gods are trying to tell you to pull back your forces and surround the capital. Take up defensive positions instead of marching to meet the enemy on the field of battle.”
Machek’s face contorted. He picked up a map from the table, ran his finger along the front line, and slammed it down with his fist.
“My lord, I see this information pains you. I’m afraid I cannot be of more assistance to you. I hope that the gods will spare my mother her wandering existence and let her into the Region of the Dead.”
“Thank you for your service to the People of the Sun. My officers will see you to safety inside the capital. No harm will come to you as long as I stand on this plane.”
Two soldiers appeared behind Sianta and escorted her out of the tent.
Chapter 38
Shane of Gisanti and Lellan cleared a path through the human wave for the Serpent King. The three gathered whispers and stares from the citizens of Risenachen as they marched towards the Great Hall. Word had spread since the first meeting of the coalition, and people on the street spoke in hushed tones about the strangers from distant empires and their mystical prowess.
All three men had satisfied their needs the night before and felt confident in greeting the rise of the Sun God. As they approached the Great Hall, Shane and Lellan veered to the right towards a governmental building. Crawling vines of wrought iron climbed from the ground floor to the roof, three stories in height. Individual balconies jutted out from lengthy, shuttered windows. Two heavy oak doors stood locked before them, each with its own sentry. A sign floated above the entrance to the building, which declared it a division of Risenachen’s military order. Flanking both sides of the sign and sitting above the center of each door sat fierce, gold-plated eagles. The birds spread their wings and their beaks fell open in a show of strength and power. Shane and Lellan stopped and bowed before the guards. The two men stood still with their backs to the doors. The Serpent King smiled when he saw Shane prostrate himself before the soldiers; his protégé had begun to learn the ways of manipulated diplomacy.
“We escort the Serpent King to the chambers of Tepan, Lord Major of the People of the Eagle. He sent for our lord and requests his presence,” said Shane.
The two decorated warriors followed protocol to the letter. The one on the right stuck out his right hand to accept the official parchment sent by Tepan to the Serpent King. Shane placed it in his upturned palm without looking into the man’s face. The guard looked at the par
chment and handed it to his partner.
Shane glanced at the Serpent King while the sentries looked over the document, his hand moving towards the hilt of his sword. When the guard spoke, Shane relaxed his grip.
“We grant the Serpent King audience with the lord major. His two commanders will remain here until the meeting has finished.”
Shane bristled and stepped back from the guards. The Serpent King put a hand on his shoulder and spoke to Shane in measured tones.
“Protocol, not an insult. Wait here for me.”
Shane turned his back and walked to the edge of the building, removing his sword and sitting down hard in the dirt. Lellan followed suit and did the same. Shane gestured towards the door, accepting his role. The Serpent King turned, his cape fluttering in a light wind and brushing the battle-axes of the two guards as he walked through the doors.
“Welcome, my lord,” said Tepan.
He wore his hair down and unkempt. A soiled tunic covered his lower body, and he carried a mug. Tepan stumbled as he moved towards the Serpent King, spilling the contents of the mug on the floor. With bloodshot eyes, he looked at the puddle and then at the Serpent King.
“Would you like a refreshment?”
The Serpent King waved away the offer with his hand.
“How about a pipe?” asked Tepan.
“A wise man never refuses a woman or a smoke.”
Tepan laughed until tears rolled down his face. A servant appeared with a pipe and flame for the Serpent King. He placed the hot ember near the edge of the clay pipe and inhaled, repeating the process and spinning the bowl until a puff of smoke and fragrance floated past the eyes of both men. The Serpent King handed the ember back to the servant, who slithered away into a dark corner.
“What function does this place serve?” asked the Serpent King.
