by J. Thorn
“The time is now.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
The Serpent King stood and raised his right hand in the air. Below him, on the floor of the coliseum and spilling down the streets of Risenachen, tens of thousands of coalition warriors awaited his address. Not a solider moved or spoke. The Serpent King smiled at Shane and addressed his fighting force.
“Warriors of the coalition. The reign of the Empire over the One World comes to an end!”
Cheers and waves of applause washed across the city.
“For generations you have endured the endless tributes, taxes, and sacrifices demanded by the People of the Sun. You sent your sons to the Wars of the Flowers and your daughters to the beds of the tyrants. You grew your crops to have them confiscated and sent to the capital, where they rot in granaries. This will happen no more. We lost a true leader with the murder of Lord Major Tepan. He asked me to serve the cause in his absence, and I plan to honor that request.”
Shouts of excitement and the slap of swords on armor filled the air.
“Some of you may be wondering why I am involved in this war. You may be asking why a lord major would sail across the Great Sea and become involved in a conflict far from the Eastern Kingdoms. I desire to abolish the tyrannical structure of leadership in this land. My forefathers fought this evil in the distant past of the Eastern Kingdoms, and I plan to fight it again in the One World.”
More cheers, more applause.
“Lord Major Machek of the Jaguar Knights serves as the leader of the People of the Sun. He slaughtered the first regiment of the coalition to reach the capital. His forces carried out a War to the Knife on Lord Major Acatel’s regiments. Lord Major Acatel and his brave men fought to the death, but Machek gave no quarter. I ask the same for Machek and his filthy warriors. Spare no life.” The Serpent King spoke the last three words with heavy emphasis in staccato bursts. A period of vocal eruptions passed before he regained control and was able to address the soldiers again. Men desired to slake their thirst for blood.
“We will march from Risenachen through the Earth Goddess’s most inhospitable lands. The journey will not be easy, and some of you will die. Along the way, we will give local tribes an invitation to join the coalition. When they understand why we march, they will cast their lot and help us to wipe the People of the Sun from the One World. Rise up and strangle the tyrants with their own power!”
A thunderous roar reverberated off the walls of the coliseum as soldiers waved their weapons in the air. Lord majors of the lesser provinces organized their troops and moved towards the main gate of Risenachen, out into the One World on the path to the capital.
***
Shane bowed at the waist, keeping his eyes on the ground. He walked next to the Serpent King down the steps and to the floor of the coliseum. “How long do you think it will take us to reach the capital?”
“Not as long as you might think. Once we recruit some of the lesser tribes into the coalition, it will be a matter of days before our first regiments set up camp on the outskirts of the capital.”
“We shall punish their souls.”
“Do not underestimate Lord Major Machek. He may prove to be more difficult than you imagine. He has rid himself of the old shaman and taken the counsel of a girl guided by strong forces. If we capture her, Machek’s powers will be useless against mine.”
The three leaders of the coalition stopped in front of a dwelling two hundred paces from the main gate of Risenachen. Two figures came out, covered in black robes and hoods. The first one stopped and knelt before the Serpent King in a show of supplication and respect. He pushed the hood back to reveal the glowing and ravenous grin of Rihclupe, Sorceress of the Wind. He did the same with the other hood and smiled into the radiant face of Gishwan. Both women covered their heads and fell in behind the Serpent King and his two new lord majors.
Chapter 52
“You must help us.”
“I will examine them and do my best.”
“The curse afflicted the entire village.”
“Then you need a soothsayer or a shaman.”
“Please, come anyway, I beg of you.”
The doctor huffed and motioned for the man to lead him to the village. “I am on my way to Risenachen and cannot be delayed.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that. I ask that you diagnose the curse and suggest treatment.”
“Are you aware that a coalition force prepares to wage war on the Empire as we speak?”
“News does not always find its way to our village.”
The doctor wiped his brow and shrugged. He looked at the primitive clothing of the villager and waited for his next move.
“The village sits over the next ridge.”
The two men hiked through a valley. At the bottom, generations of loggers had emptied the forest floor. Corn stretched high into the late summer breeze, bulging ears dangling from the tops of the stalks. The weight of the unpicked bounty pulled the plants towards the ground in a lazy arch. Passing feet had worn a smooth dirt path towards the village center.
“It feels very wrong here.”
“Yes, sir, that is why I need your help.”
The doctor stood in the breeze, overlooking a village. Seven structures surrounded a stone well. Behind the dwellings, a silo stood guard, storing wheat and grain for the harsh winter ahead. He noticed the absence of children and dogs, two entities always seen in the backwoods. The hum of the summer cicadas serenaded the men.
“Where are your people?”
“Sick, all of them.”
“What about you?”
“I was hunting the forest for the past three days. When I returned, I came upon my village, and you see what I saw. I ran down the path and waited on the road to Risenachen until I spotted you.”
“This will cost you. We can talk payment later.”
“Of course, of course. We would not expect you to help others in a time of need because it’s the right thing to do.”
The doctor glared at the man. “You can always sit at the crossroads and wait for another man of medicine to cross your path.”
“No, oh please, no, sir. I am very sorry. Very sorry. I did not mean to insult you. Of course we will compensate you for your work.”
“Continue. I haven’t got much time.”
The man followed the trail into the middle of the village and led the doctor to the first dwelling. “The chief and his family live here. They are inside. I must warn you sir, they appear to be on the verge of death.”
“I have seen things you could not imagine. Open the door and let me do my work.”
The man opened the door and stood back to let the doctor enter. The odor knocked him back. Most men of his profession developed a tolerance for body odors, fluids, and infection. However, nothing prepared him for the scene. The dwelling stood in darkness, even at midday. Soft, muddled groans came from different corners of the dwelling. Heavy gurgling, like the sound of an anxious creek, filled the air. The doctor pulled his cotton robe up to his face and covered his mouth and nose. The putrid air made him retch two or three times, but he managed to regain his composure. He pulled a candle from his bag and lit it, flashes of light touching the ghoulish faces of the people in the house. The doctor looked back at the villager in shocked silence.
“Are they all afflicted?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, as best I can tell. Some have gone beyond the Region of the Dead, and others stand at the threshold.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“I thought—I thought that maybe you could save them. Reverse the progress of the affliction.”
“Nothing but the mercy of the gods can save your village.”
The two men left the house of death. The fresh air rejuvenated them as they sat on a limestone rock near the well at the center of the village. The doctor continued to wipe drips of fluid from his face in a nervous, repetitive motion.
“Is your family in there?” the doctor asked. Th
e experience had rendered his original aloofness powerless. He spoke to the villager as an equal.
“No, they are not. My wife went beyond the Region of the Dead while giving birth to my son.”
“The most honorable passing, for a woman.”
“Yes. I guess I took some comfort in that. My son followed her there before he saw his first moon.”
The doctor shook his head, well aware of the trauma of childbirth. “Do you have anything to drink?” he asked.
“A barrel of ale near the storehouse. We saved it for the harvest. It doesn’t appear as though anyone here will be missing it.”
“I must write up a report and bring it with me to Risenachen.”
“Let’s drink first.”
The doctor followed the man towards the granary and into a shed on its right. The door swung open with a simple, squeaky protest. The doctor smiled at the thought of a barrel of ale sitting in an unlocked shed. The gutter trash of Risenachen would have emptied it without remorse. The villager removed the plug from the barrel and screwed in a wooden turnstile. From a line of mugs hanging on the interior of the shed wall, he brought two down and filled them to the top with ale. The doctor accepted the first mug and held it aloft. The two men, out of habit and custom, toasted before drinking.
“This is fine ale,” said the doctor.
“It has brewed for quite some time.”
“Ale of this caliber requires a sophisticated brew master.”
The villager accepted the compliment and stared intently into his mug.
“I’m going to need you to sit down and think hard about everything that has happened in this village over the past three to five days. Everything. You may remember something inconsequential, but do not leave it out. As the sole survivor of this plague, you may hold the answers. Can you do this?”
“If it will save another village, I will do all I can.”
The doctor pulled out a journal and nodded for the man to begin. “Remember, do not pass over any details.”
The man took a passionate gulp from his mug and refilled it from the barrel. “Like I said to you earlier, I was hunting alone in the forest for days and I returned to—to this.” He waved his hand towards the darkened dwelling.
“Back up and tell me about the day before you left on your trip. Was anyone sick at that time?”
“No, not that I can remember. What symptoms might they have shown?”
“Coughing, fever, redness, or swelling of the hands and feet?”
“No, I don’t recall seeing anything like that.”
The doctor paused and scribbled into his journal. “Were there any visitors or merchants that came through the village, leading up to your departure?” He saw a flash of memory light the man’s eyes.
“Yes! Two soldiers from Risenachen stopped here on their way to the city. They did not speak to me, but I overheard them telling the chief elder that they were inspecting the outposts from the Great Sea, extending north and south. Although I could not hear the entire conversation, their voices reflected concern, but not panic.”
“Did they appear healthy, normal?”
“I did not speak to them, but from a distance, they did.”
“When was this?”
The man paused and looked skyward. “The day before I left on my hunting expedition.”
“Was the chief elder the first to become sick?”
“I came home to that cursed dwelling and saw what you saw. I do not know what happened here from the time I left until the time I walked into that building.”
“Can you pour me another?”
The villager filled the doctor’s mug. “That is all I can remember. When a merchant or band of gypsies arrives, it is a big event. I would remember if anyone else visited. The two soldiers from Risenachen were the only outsiders to come to our village.”
The doctor glanced back at the barrel and shook his head. He needed to wrap up his investigation and get to Risenachen as fast as possible. “I must leave and take my report to the authorities. Is there anything else I need to add?”
The man looked hard into the doctor’s eyes. “The sickness spared no villager.”
The doctor held his breath as the realization hit him.
“Nobody,” repeated the villager. The man’s face was swollen, with red pustules near his eyes and mouth. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The doctor had not noticed this before, in all the confusion of the encounter.
“You had better ride, now.”
“Is there a horse somewhere in your village?”
The man pointed to a stable behind an overgrown copse of trees. “A few steeds in that barn. Take one.”
The man stood up and walked out of the shed, past the silo, and towards the dwelling of the damned. He stopped at the door and turned back towards the doctor. The doctor wiped his eyes with the back of his forearm. The man’s image fluttered before him, flickering back and forth between his defeated face and a skull. The dark figure peered at the doctor through empty eye sockets, and a bellowing, deep laugh rang through the dead village, causing the doctor to stumble and fall. The vision continued to flicker as the doomed man opened the door and stepped inside the dwelling. The door slammed shut with a fierce wind that blew through the trees. The doctor ran to the stable and climbed on the nearest horse while the ale churned in his stomach. He spurred the steed and rode towards Risenachen, carrying news of the affliction and other things.
Chapter 53
Machek sat in his command quarters, rubbing his forehead and agonizing over the imminent attack. It went against the nature of the warrior to sit and wait for a first strike.
The Jaguar Knights should be taking control of the battle, not waiting for it to come to them, he thought.
Sianta remained near him through most of the days leading up to the war, and Falton kept her within sight. The chief elder visited Machek to deliver news or an order, but Machek found him less determined with each visit. He felt a change in the elder, and it worried him.
Scouts from the region near Risenachen reported hundreds of thousands of troops on the march, led by lord majors from across the One World. The murder of Lord Major Tepan had not slowed the coalition. Machek thought about all of the tribes between Risenachen and the capital, and hoped they would stand and fight the infidels on behalf of the Empire. Although subject to the People of the Sun, they lived lives of freedom and security. Without the strong guidance of the Empire, order in the One World could disintegrate.
“Lord Major, sir,” said one of his personal guards, breaking through a cloud of thought.
“Yes, Commander, what is it?”
“Sir, the chief elder requested a private meeting with you. He understands your preparations, but says he must see you soon.”
“Is he here now?”
“No, sir, he sent an emissary to deliver the message.”
Machek loved the elder, but felt that he often fell into the trappings of privilege and power.
“Commander, take my reply to the chief elder. Tell his emissary that I will meet him in his quarters when the Sun God falls behind the horizon.”
“Is that all, my lord?”
“No. Tell him I request an emissary to deliver my messages.”
A slight suggestion of amusement flashed across the guard’s face and disappeared.
Machek turned and donned his battle dress. Layers of black rawhide leather fit over his legs and arms, and he pulled a tortoiseshell vest from a wooden chest. Machek used precise motions when completing the outfit with rankings and medals. He had to assume that any departure from his private quarters could be his last. War had a strange way of forcing one to live in the moment. He sheathed his sword and placed the helmet of the Jaguar Knights upon his head. His two private guards stood at attention when he walked past them, exiting the camp and turning towards the palace used as the personal retreat of the elders.
That would be my first target, he thought, trying to climb inside the head of his enemy.
/> The palace stood in a central district of the capital. Generations of elders had used it as a residence, retreat, and meeting place. Old myths still survived from the original construction. Machek walked towards the palace, nine steps taking him from the street to the main entrance. Chiseled columns the width of seven or eight men supported the upper stories, and sigils of the Empire sewn to waving banners danced on the music of the wind from the roof. Guards stood at attention and patrolled the perimeter of the building. When Machek approached, in full battle regalia, the guards snapped to attention and lifted their battle-axes to allow him in. He returned their salute and stepped into the main hall.
Royalty had never governed the People of the Sun. However, the building resembled a king’s palace. The main hall stretched to the far side of the building. It would take a man hundreds of paces to cross it. From floor to ceiling, mirrored glass gave the impression of limitless space. On top of marble pedestals lining the walls stood ivory statues of the elders. All appeared to gaze down on the individual with eternal wisdom. A red velvet carpet ran from one door to the other, covering the marble floor over the full length of the main hall.
Machek walked until he reached the other side, where a sentry guided him through a maze of hallways and doors. He would have a hard time finding his way out of there alone. The guard led him into an open courtyard within the palace. The exterior walls rose up on all sides, creating an oasis full of trees, fountains, and manicured ponds. Machek saw the chief elder sitting on a stone bench with his back to the entrance of the courtyard, and the sentry motioned towards him, saluted, and left Machek’s side. Machek knew he would not be far off and would kill anyone he thought was a threat to the chief elder.
