by J. Thorn
“You have no control over her or me. Your threats do not frighten me.”
“I see that I cannot persuade you. It does not matter in the end. I have the power to destroy all the people of the One World. I could do it right now if I so chose. However, your Wars to the Knife entertain me. I relish in the blood you spill. I am the Serpent King, and I will bring you to the flame.”
Machek shook and opened his eyes. Sianta sat across from him, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the water on its way to the Great Sea. Her eyes opened.
“That is the last vision I have to share with you. The Spirit has delivered it, and now it is time for you to act.”
“The Spirit showed me death and destruction. The one called the Serpent King claims to hold the power of the One World in his hands.”
“He manipulates the visions. You know this, right?”
“I would assume so. I refused his offers, and he threatened my soul.”
Sianta sat still. She released Machek’s hands from her own. Her name rang out and off the rocks, and Falton climbed down to the water’s edge, smiling at her.
“I must go,” Sianta said. She jumped off the rock, into the water, and turned to face Machek. He remained motionless on it, his hands extended to where Sianta’s used to be. “You are the Redeemer, Machek.”
He watched her scamper up the rocks and into the arms of Falton. He waved, and Machek returned the greeting. The two adolescents walked through the trees and out of sight. Machek looked down into the water, where his reflection rippled with the current, unable to settle on a fixed image. From the bottom of the creek, another vision rose to the surface. It covered his reflection, flashing in and out of existence. The features of the face contorted, breaking into menacing snarls and groans. Machek recognized the eyes of the phantom and knew the Soothsayer was still watching him.
***
Machek returned to his headquarters and gave the order to pull all forces behind the wall of the capital. Soldiers constructed catapults and other machines of war inside the city’s defenses, and troops reported to stations on top of the wall, filling their quivers with poison arrows. Sentries were posted at strategic gates. Machek had ordered all of them secured and sealed, with the exception of the main gate. He would let the engineers figure out how to open them if they survived the siege. Generations of conquest had left the People of the Sun with an immense arsenal, and Machek hoped enough warriors would survive the initial surge to use it.
The chief elder spotted Machek and stopped him with questions. The vision from Sianta had distracted the lord major, and he found it difficult to pay attention to the conversation. The feel of his wife’s cold body and her standing corpse haunted his fleeting thoughts.
Chapter 49
“Stay close to me. If I motion to you with my hand, climb under my robe as far as you can.”
“Guards stand all around the Great Hall. How are we supposed to get past them?”
“That is not your concern.”
The Sun God dropped from the sky as the Serpent King and Acatel approached the headquarters of Lord Major Tepan. The Serpent King knew that the lord major would be sitting in the magnificent building, laboring over the movements of regiments in the looming war.
The first two guards recognized him. “Lord Major, sir.”
“Rest easy, guards. I am not here to harass Lord Major Tepan. I have a message for him.” The Serpent King reached into his robe and pulled out a piece of parchment, wrinkled and yellow, closed with the wax seal of the Eastern Kingdoms. “Please deliver this to Lord Major Tepan as soon as possible.”
The guard on the left took the parchment from his hand and saluted the Serpent King. He signaled for the worn oak doors to be opened, and a servant within accepted the message.
“Take this to the lord major, right now.”
The servant bowed, spun on his heels, and disappeared into the encroaching darkness within the Great Hall.
“Thank you,” said the Serpent King to the sentries that stood on guard, staring into the streets of Risenachen.
***
The servant hurried through the hallways to the room where Tepan had been studying battle plans and troop movements. The time to march on the capital drew near, but he stopped in a dark alcove and sat on the floor. Disorientation gripped him, and he could not remember who he was or what he was doing. A piece of yellowed parchment fell from his hand and dropped to the stone floor. His lungs felt as though they had filled with water. The servant grasped and clawed at the walls as his eyes bulged from their sockets. He lay crumpled in the corner as life passed from his body. The parchment vibrated, thrummed, and rattled the torches on the wall. In the empty hallway, Acatel stretched his arms, brushing the wax seal of the Eastern Kingdoms from his arm, where it had stuck to his skin. Acatel stood naked except for a sharp dagger gripped in his teeth. He glanced at the dead servant on the floor and wasted no time stripping him of his clothes. Although not a perfect fit, Acatel thought the clothes would suit him in the shadowed corridors of the Great Hall.
With extreme caution and heightened senses, Acatel crept through the Great Hall towards the command room where Tepan worked alone. To his amazement, no other servants or guards passed him on the way. He caught a glimpse of movement through an opened door, where candles lit the room in stark contrast to the darkened halls. Pipe smoke drifted in the air, resting on the varnished chairs. Clicks emanated from the calculating devices Tepan used to measure troop movements, and the dried and yellowed maps gave off a heady, ancient aroma. Acatel stepped inside and shut the door, dropping the latch and locking it from the inside. Tepan looked up, startled out of his planning by the sudden noise.
“Yes?” Tepan said, flustered and agitated at the interruption.
“I know I dress in servant’s rags, but you must recognize me.” Acatel stepped out from the doorway and into the light of the room.
“Acatel? You must be an apparition. Your regiment fell to the knife at the hands of Lord Major Machek.”
“I am not an apparition. I stand before you, flesh and blood.”
“Why did you ignore my command and attack before the coalition could send reinforcements?”
“You thrive in this metropolis of wealth and excess while my people eke out a meager existence in the hinterlands of the One World. You grow fat with food and drink, and you dip your member in every whore who suits your needs. Did you think I would subjugate myself to your leadership? I would just as soon surrender to the tyrants.”
Tepan walked out from behind a hulking desk. He positioned himself a safe distance from Acatel and glanced past him to the corner, where his sword and helmet hung on the wall.
“I would cut you to pieces before you got close to that sword,” said Acatel. He held his dagger up and licked the blade.
“Calm down. Please sit and allow me to get us some drinks.”
“I’m sure you have some leaf in your desk. Get it out and pack us pipes. That will suffice instead of ale.”
Tepan walked back behind his desk and took out a sealed satchel of herb. He packed two pipes and gave one to Acatel, who reached over and snatched it from his hands. Tepan considered asking the lord major of the Dog People how he got past the guards, but realized it did not matter.
“How did you survive the battle?” Tepan asked while his eyes scanned the perimeter of the room.
“You are a worthless man, with your titles and medals, sending men to die on the battlefield, and yet you never dirty your uniform. Why do men follow such cowards into war?”
Tepan lit his pipe and offered the flame to Acatel. “If you came here to insult me, take all the time you need. I will stand here and smoke while you do so.”
Acatel’s face blossomed into a crimson snarl. “Do you know why I stand in your private chambers with a dagger, dressed in this manner?”
Tepan set the pipe down on his desk and clenched his fists in anticipation of violence. “My guess is that you came to murder me. While
you might be able to spill my blood before I can strike back, you will not make it out of this building alive.”
“You are sure of this? How do you think I got in here unnoticed?” Acatel moved closer, stepping around and over the maps on the floor that had separated the two men. “Before I take your life, I want you to know something. I want you to die with the image of the lord major of the Dog People burned on your retina. The insane, primitive, and uncouth leader of the tribe considered less than human stole into the private quarters of the lord major of the coalition, and he cut his fucking throat.”
Tepan’s mouth dropped, and he put his hand to his forehead. “The Serpent King got you in here.”
Acatel replied with a scream. “You arrogant bastard! Even as you face death, you cannot admit you have been bested by the lord major of the Dog People.”
“What did he promise you? Coin, women, power? He serves the Dark One and doles out empty promises. I know you will not spare my life, but how long will it be before he slips another into your quarters, to take yours?”
“This is not about the Serpent King or the People of the Sun. My revenge flows with your blood.” Acatel stood at arm’s length from Tepan. Neither man moved a muscle as guards arrived at Tepan’s quarters, demanding that he open the door.
Tepan struck first. He feigned a move to his right and came back hard to his left, and his fist connected with Acatel’s jaw, knocking him to the floor. He scrambled to his feet amidst the maps fluttering in the dusty air. The thumping on the door grew in intensity, and Tepan dove towards the sword hanging on the wall behind Acatel. Acatel reached out with a leg and tripped Tepan, lunging towards him and wielding the dagger. Tepan grabbed Acatel’s wrist. The two men struggled for control of the weapon until Acatel smashed his forehead into Tepan’s face, shattering the man’s nose and beginning the flow of blood from his mouth.
Tepan winced from the blow and fought to remain conscious. He wiped the blood from his nose and tears from his eyes while crawling towards the desk. Acatel grabbed his ankle and pulled him along the floor, and Tepan slid across the maps spotted with his blood. He brought his knee into Acatel’s groin, making contact with the most sensitive parts. Acatel rolled over, gasping for breath, and Tepan stumbled behind the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. He reached for a decorative knife used to cut and mince herb. Tepan looked down at the puny blade and up at Acatel’s dagger.
Acatel got to his feet after vomiting on the floor. He spit and wiped the drool from his face, strands bouncing from his chin. “This is over.”
He stepped to the desk. Tepan jumped towards him, the point of the knife aimed at Acatel’s throat. The blade glanced off his collarbone and slid into his fleshy shoulder, and a groan escaped his lips. The two men embraced each other, and their eyes met. Tepan exhaled, his mouth agape, and Acatel twisted the blade in Tepan’s abdomen. With every turn, Tepan’s body lurched upward. His eyes rolled back as if pleading for the assistance of a greater power. Acatel felt the flow of warm fluid over his hand and heard it splattering on the stone under his feet.
“Die like a dog,” he said, growling the words from between clenched teeth.
Tepan’s eyes lost focus, and his breathing slowed to a few ragged gasps. Acatel released Tepan and let him slide down the wall, and he turned to face the door as Tepan’s heart pulsed for the last time. He saw a tunic crumpled on the floor by the door, placed there by an unseen hand.
***
Battle-axes slammed into the door, raining wood splinters and shards inward.
“I see feet behind the desk!” yelled the first soldier into the room.
Blood covered the walls and floor. Lord Major Tepan lay motionless on the floor, and a gaping, ragged wound to his abdomen spilled vital organs. The guards stood alone in the room with the corpse.
“I know I heard yelling. Where is the attacker?” the guard asked his partner. He walked over to the wall and picked up a ripped and crumpled tunic.
“He fled before we could enter the room.”
Another guard leaned out the window and looked down three stories to the cobblestone thoroughfare. If the attacker had jumped from this height, he would be lying crippled on the ground below. The guards inspected the room and sent word to the sentries in Risenachen to be on the lookout for someone fleeing from the direction of the Great Hall. The murderer had disappeared, beginning a frustrating and hopeless investigation. A yellowed piece of parchment, sealed with the red wax of the Eastern Kingdoms, sat on the windowsill, and the soldier who looked down into the streets for the fleeing attacker turned and knocked the document out. It floated down towards the street, the wind blowing it around the Great Hall and into an alleyway, where a bony hand reached down to pick up the parchment and shove it under a black robe.
***
“You did well, Lord Major.”
Acatel grunted. He ripped flesh from bone, eating the gristle and fat as well. The bartender refilled every empty mug. A pouch of gold coin ensured that the flow of ale would not dry up. The inn looked the same as it always did, the same poor souls rotting in drink, the same smell of stale beer filling the smoky room.
“How is your wound?”
Acatel laughed. “Are you a nurse? Stopped bleeding. Think I’ll survive.” Chunks of golden, fried skin hung from his chin. “How long will it take for things to fall into place?”
“Lord Major Acatel, you must let events develop. The panic will reach a fever pitch by daybreak tomorrow. The council of the coalition will call an emergency meeting. At that time, I will step up and fulfill my duty as prescribed by the late Lord Major Tepan. None will oppose. We shall march out of Risenachen as planned, so there won’t be time for a full investigation into the murder. You will be assigned a regiment and will be elevated to full lord major status in the eyes of the coalition forces.”
“When do I get the share you promised?”
“When you sit upon the throne of the One World,” replied the Serpent King. He rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand on his forehead.
Two hooded figures entered the pub and sat down at the table. The first figure dropped her hood, and Acatel stopped eating to stare into her eyes.
“I am Rihclupe, Sorceress of the Wind.”
Acatel could do nothing but gasp. The Serpent King felt a stirring in his loins. When the second figure removed her hood, Acatel almost fell from his stool.
“It is you, Gishwan.” His tone rose as if he were unsure whether he made a statement or asked a question.
“Yes, it is I, Lord Major.”
“But—but how did—eh.” Acatel stumbled and tripped over his own words.
“I took a difficult path to get here and back into your presence. Risenachen provided me with an education in the ways of the One World.”
Her glowing skin and radiant face stunned Acatel. He thought she was lost forever, despite what the Serpent King had promised. Visions of the night in his tent returned to his mind. Acatel longed for the sexual encounter that had been stolen by the raid. He lost men that night, but no loss stung him like the loss of Gishwan.
“You look as stunning as ever,” replied Acatel. He regained some of his composure and managed to drain another mug of ale.
“I promised you the throne of the One World and a reunion with your woman. The throne sits and looks back at you through the future, but the woman looks at you now from across the table,” the Serpent King said.
Before Acatel could answer, Ri spoke. “Do you think Lord Major Acatel, fierce warrior and leader of the Dog People, could handle two women on his own?” A sensual fire burned behind her eyes.
“I am sure I could, my lady, but I reserve tonight for my found maiden.” Acatel held out his hand for Gishwan. She took it and he helped her to her feet. “We will be upstairs, I assume without interruption, until the Sun God arrives tomorrow.”
The Serpent King waved them away with one hand. Gishwan followed Acatel past the bar and up the steps, and they disappeared into one of the rooms
of the inn. Ri sat beside the Serpent King.
“Can she do it?” he asked her.
“Yes, without a doubt.”
***
Acatel shut the door. They stood in a suffocating room, a lone candle burning in an attempt to mask the smell of prostitution. Diseased furniture and a greasy window clustered against the opposite wall. The sounds of angry merchants and drunken soldiers entered the room without permission, and muffled screams and thumpings rumbled through the anemic walls. A jug and bowl sat in one corner. Acatel turned to face Gishwan, and she turned her face up to his.
“How did you—”
Gishwan cut him off by placing her finger over his lips. He could feel the heat pulsing from her touch.
“There will be time for talking and explanation in the morning,” she said as she dropped her robe to the floor. Beads of sweat crawled down her neck and met between shapely breasts. Without a mark or blemish, Gishwan’s skin glowed. Her shiny hair fell on her shoulders and across her back. Acatel felt his erection grow as the sight of her paralyzed the rest of his body.
Gishwan walked to the cot and climbed on top of it. She turned to lie on her stomach, pushing herself at Acatel, begging him to take her wherever he wanted as she reached around and fondled her private areas.
Acatel fought to escape the confines of his clothes. He walked to the cot and bent down to place his face in Gishwan’s flower. She let out a muffled cry as his tongue caressed her. Gishwan opened and began to flow. She spun around and placed Acatel in her mouth with both hands. His eyes closed and his body shook as she licked and pulled him, begging for his seed. He felt it rising and pushed her away, determined not to let it erupt so soon. She pushed him in the chest with both hands so that he fell back onto the cot. She climbed on top of him and guided him into her wet, warm folds. He could not believe the sensation and once again felt an imminent explosion of pleasure. Gishwan pulsed and gyrated on top of him. Her breasts fell into his face and her hair covered him. Acatel put each nipple into his mouth, licking it and teasing her with his teeth. Gishwan jumped up and laughed. She teased Acatel, taking him to the brink of orgasm and then backing off.
