by J. Thorn
“Why are you here, Machek?”
“The chief elder made a decision, and it is my duty to fulfill his wishes.”
“What do you think of his decision?”
“It is not my job to think, dear friend. My job is to kill to save the people of the Empire. That is what I will do, if necessary.”
“Many inside those walls question the chief elder’s change of plan.”
“No doubt they do.”
“Many shudder at the thought of opening the gates to the infidels and letting them walk into the city.”
“As do I.”
“Then consider this. The conversation you have with this Serpent King will take place in private. No member of the council or citizen of the Empire will hear it. Follow your heart, Lord Major Machek. Do not be burdened by the whims of the elder.”
“Do you think that has not crossed my mind? It is easy for you to suggest such a path. Your life has been spent dealing with crops that don’t require negotiation.” Machek bit his tongue, hoping the pain might retrieve the insult from his friend’s ears.
“You speak the truth.” Desi shrank in his saddle and dug his heels into the steed’s hindquarters.
“I am sorry. This meeting weighs on my soul, and I would benefit from some quiet time to think about it.”
“I understand, Machek.”
Desi let his horse drift back from Machek’s, towards the middle of the envoy. The Sun God followed them, casting shadows behind the Jaguar Knights.
Machek spotted scouts as they rode towards the great plain separating the forest from the Great Sea. Though they were nothing more than specks at a distance, Machek recognized their movements. The scouts gathered observations to share with the Serpent King as he prepared for their meeting.
He dismounted, and the others followed him. Without a spoken command, the soldiers set up camp for the night. The meeting with the infidels would have to wait one more day. Men left to hunt game for the evening meal while others raised tents around a central fire. Machek stood alone, staring towards the camp of the enemy.
“They are near,” he said to no one in particular.
Desi walked towards him. “Will they raid our camp when night falls?” he asked.
“No. We comprise a light envoy, not a threat to their regiments. The Serpent King knows of our march and will be preparing for a visit. They will keep tabs on us, but I do not think they will attack.”
Desi kicked a stone at his foot, hesitated, then spoke again. “Not even if they realize that Lord Major Machek, Jaguar Knight and commander of the People of the Sun, is in this camp?”
“By this time tomorrow, we will know the answer to your question.” Machek walked away from Desi and towards his own tent.
The men sat around the fire, enjoying wild hares and deer brought down by the bows of the hunters. Flasks of whiskey and mugs of ale floated through the camp, which helped to lessen the tension of their departure from the capital. The liquor loosened men’s tongues and hearts. Machek sat by himself on a smooth rock not far from the fire, feeling torn and confused. Sianta had released him from his oath of duty to the old man, and now he felt bound by rank to another old man. He could not reconcile the chief elder’s change in strategy. His decision did not make sense. To the masses, it would appear as though the leaders of the Empire desired to spare as many lives as possible, a noble position to take. However, Machek had known the chief elder since childhood. He felt that the elder’s hand was forced by an unseen power.
Machek tipped the flask back, allowing the whiskey to burn his throat. He forced another down in rapid succession, hoping the daze of the drug might soften the harshness of the situation.
Chapter 59
The wind touched the clothing of the dead, whispering promises of the beyond. A flap of a cotton wiggled in the evening breeze. Vultures circled high above the decimated city, but did not dare swoop down and feast on the rotten flesh.
Sasha found an empty, clean room and collapsed on the cot. She looked out of the window towards the horizon, where the Lady of the Light winked at her. Scabs had replaced the open sores on her body, and she could not find any new blisters. The swelling in her face had lessened, and the puffiness in her eyes had subsided. A pang of hunger forced her into action.
She stepped out of the room, down the silent hallway, and through the debris towards the main door of the Ministry of Health. She gazed out into the desolate streets of Risenachen. The oil lamp posts that once burned through the night had expired long ago, but the moon rose high and provided her with a dull glow. Not a person, horse, or insect moved in the stillness of the night. At the far ends of the building, two narrow avenues ran perpendicular to the ministry, giving Sasha her first real choice. She walked down the steps to the street, wincing in pain when her blistered feet touched the stone. She lumbered a few paces when the first evidence of the devastation appeared.
Decomposing corpses filled the gutters, piled three and four high. Rats scurried between arms and legs while flies buzzed in the air, even in the dead of night. The moonlight reflected off glazed and pallid eyes, and shriveled dead faces. Combined with the black holes caused by the blisters, they appeared subhuman. Sasha stopped counting bodies when she reached fifty. She looked further down the avenue and saw mounds piled high on each side of the street.
On every block, Sasha witnessed the same scene. Workers had stacked the bodies in front of cafés, shops, and offices. She approached the door to a café and pushed it open, felt the walls to her left, and found a candle in a sconce. She removed it and realized she had no way of lighting the candle.
She stepped past overturned tables and chairs while broken shards of pottery and mugs cracked under her, the cotton strips on her feet keeping them from cutting into her soles. She reached steps and ascended the staircase in utter blackness, standing in what had once been the main living quarters of the café owner. A table and chairs lay in pieces in one corner. A narrow hallway led to the sleeping quarters. Shards of clay vessels littered the floor as they had in the café. Looters had emptied the residence and stole any valuables, leaving a simple cot.
She found remnants of a table and used it to prop the door shut at the top of the steps. It would not stop someone from forcing his way into the home, but it would give Sasha plenty of time to prepare her defense. She fell asleep before her body settled on the cold, lonely cot.
Chapter 60
“I must go now.”
“Machek, please take me with you. This is far too risky for you to go alone. What if the Serpent King’s snipers take you down en route?”
“He would never order that.”
“You’re right, he would not. But maybe an ambitious, impulsive foot soldier would see this as a way to jump ranks.”
“I’m not denying what you say, but I must do this alone. I must face my destiny.”
Desi shook his head and exhaled a desperate sigh. “The Sun God will break the horizon soon. Men stir. What is your command?”
“Keep the men in camp until I come back. If I do not return before the Sun God descends on the One World, hurry back to the capital and prepare for war.”
“May the Jaguar guide your hand and your tongue, Lord Major.”
“Tonatu,” replied Machek.
He heeled his steed and brought him to a light gallop as he rode down the path towards the plain. He wore the battle regalia and weapons of the supreme commander and lord major of the Jaguar Knights. Metals bounced off each other, creating an intimidating din. Machek wore the Jaguar Knight sigil on each shoulder, his face covered with black streaks of war paint. Desi hoped it would ward off potential attacks instead of drawing them.
The vision brought to him by Sianta replayed in Machek’s mind as he rode closer to the camp of the infidels. He could see men running and hiding behind rocks situated above the trail and knew they had strict orders to make sure he made it to the meeting unharmed.
Falling rocks snapped Machek out of his trance. One of
the scouts took a wrong step and sent the rocky soil tumbling down towards the trail. Machek laughed aloud at the man’s clumsiness. The Serpent King must not fear me, or he would have sent competent scouts.
The first signs of the infidels bloomed as white specks on the distant horizon, where the great plain met the sky to the east. Machek imagined thousands of warriors waiting for their orders to attack, eager to grease their swords with the blood of the Empire. A high-ranking soldier stepped out from behind a copse of trees and trotted towards Machek on a black stallion. He carried a shield and a long sword and was dressed in customary armor. Machek assumed he was the lord major of a distant tribe near the Great Sea.
“Lord Major Machek, commander of the Jaguar Knights?”
“Yes.”
“I am an emissary to his lord, the Serpent King, supreme commander of the coalition.”
Machek wished the lord major would dispense with the customary theatrics and take him to the camp. “Very well. Let’s go.”
“First, you must hand me your weapons. You have the word of the Serpent King that they will be returned to you on this very spot on your way back to the capital.”
Machek hesitated. Either the Serpent King lied, or he had plans to release Machek after their meeting. He handed the lord major his weapons, with the exception of a personal dagger sheathed inside his right calf.
“I know that a lord major would not give up all of his defenses. The Serpent King will permit you to keep your concealed ones. However, if you draw them, you will be cut down.”
Machek nodded and pulled the reins, spinning his horse to face the Serpent King’s camp.
He followed the lord major. From north to south, and all the way to the eastern horizon, Machek saw tents. Men extinguished their fires now that the Sun God climbed into the day sky. He estimated at least eight regiments spread out before him, covering the land like seven-year locusts. If the Serpent King had more behind those, the Empire would meet its fate.
Machek smelled the unwashed, filthy flesh of the infidels and their rancid meats skewered over the fires. He watched as men wearing nothing but loincloths hid from him behind trees, gibbering in a fearful and primitive tongue. Women in the camps tending the flames while swaddling infants that hung from their breasts.
Situated near the center and towards the front of the encampment stood a towering tent. A sprawling fire pit raged to the left, where enormous logs crumbled into ash and orange embers. To the right, a handful of tents stood under the nearest trees. The various lord majors of the coalition used these for developing strategy, but slept closer to their own regiments.
Two guards stood near the entrance. They took the reins from Machek’s hands and assisted his dismount before they led his steed to a hitching post and secured it. Another soldier delivered fresh water and oats to his horse. The flap of the tent opened from the inside, and the emissary nodded towards the opening and touched Machek’s shoulder, indicating that it was time for him to meet the Serpent King.
Inside the tent, smoke swirled and rose towards the opening at the apex. The sharp herb hung in the air and caressed those inside. The Serpent King sat on a gilded chair, on top of a raised platform, two lord majors flanking him on each side. Servants ran about the tent, bringing herb and pipes and making sure to keep their eyes lowered. Two musicians played a delicate melody. The Serpent King waved them away with one hand, leaving his two lord majors and Machek.
“Welcome, Lord Major Machek.” He spoke with a warm, inviting tone, which surprised Machek. He had expected a rude welcome.
Machek bowed at the waist out of custom. Enemies held each other in high esteem in the One World.
“Please join us as we light the herb. These are Lord Major Shane and Lord Major Lellan. They have been with me for a very long time. We came to the One World together from the Eastern Kingdoms.”
“My message is for your ears.”
Shane and Lellan looked at each other. Shane grimaced and spit a line of brown tobacco at Machek’s feet. The Serpent King reached out and touched both men on the shoulders, and they grabbed their swords and walked past Machek and out of the tent. Shane’s growl buzzed in Machek’s ear.
“Now, will you please sit and smoke with me? There is no reason why we should hurry into our deliberations. After all, the future is ours alone to decide, is it not?”
“I did not come here to share pipe and mug.”
“I know why you are here, Machek, and if you don’t sit down in a civilized manner, I can ask my lord majors to help you.”
Machek glanced at the slit of light in the tent and knew that the other two men stood within a pace of the opening. He sat down, facing the Serpent King without losing track of the men beyond the flap.
“Good. Now we can smoke without interruption.” The Serpent King picked up his pipe and inhaled. The herb sticking out of the top crackled and glowed before releasing heady smoke into the tent. Machek reached for an empty pipe on a rickety table to his left, filled it with herb from a brass bowl, and lit it. He had not tasted the variety, but found it very enjoyable. He exhaled, and a hint of sweetness lingered on his tongue.
“What is the name of this leaf?” he asked the Serpent King.
The Serpent King tried his best to hide a wide grin. “I am not sure. One of the lord majors stole it from the Mountain Souls. They reside far to the north.”
“Yes, I know of them. They produce fine herb as well as fine wool. We have enjoyed it for generations.”
“I have also had the opportunity to enjoy their fine women, who are as intoxicating as the herb and as warm as the wool.”
Machek could not suppress his laughter.
“Why did you ignore the vision?” The Serpent King’s words shook Machek out of his revelry and reminded him of the seriousness of the meeting.
“You cannot expect a warrior to lay down his sword because he was told to do so in a dream.”
“That was no ordinary dream.”
“My job is to fight and die for the Empire. Laying down my sword will ensure my death but do nothing to help the fight.”
“The filth filtered your vision. She tainted your perspective.”
“Did you get to the chief elder?” Machek’s question turned the table on the Serpent King, and he lost the momentum.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I am here.”
“And why are you here?”
Machek smiled at the Serpent King while blowing circles from his pipe. He took another swig of ale, prolonging the moment for as long as possible. “Did you visit him in a dream?” he asked.
“Yes. I showed him the capital as it will look after the siege. He is a good leader. He feels for his people.”
“Did you show him the capital as it will look after he opens the gate to you and your horde of infidels?”
The Serpent King snarled. The volume of his voice swelled to a maddening bark. “You are not the Redeemer. You will save nothing. You will choose the number of casualties of your beloved Empire. Citizens will die whether you fight us or invite us in, but they will die. If you choose to fight, many more will curse your name on the Plains of Miklin.”
“If I have no choice, and if I cannot make a difference, then I will give my soldiers the opportunity to die with honor on the battlefield.”
“You and your stupid oaths! You are such a fool, Machek. There is no such thing as loyalty. Every man, every creature in this One World acts out of his own best interest. I am still offering you the One World. I am still willing to split the spoils with you.”
“What kind of man would accept that offer? You serve me the blood and tears of my own people.”
“I offer you life. Any other option results in death.”
“It appears as though our meeting was in vain. I will not hand the souls of my people to you, regardless of how many visions you plant in the head of the chief elder, or how many stolen riches you offer.”
“You have tasted the sweet herb of the Mou
ntain Souls. Was it worth the ride to my camp?” The Serpent King’s tangential question ended any further discussion. Machek hoped the Serpent King would allow him to hitch up and ride back to his camp, but if not, at least he would die true to his people and his values.
“I have battle preparations to make,” said Machek.
“I don’t want to keep you from those. Please share a fond farewell with Lord Majors Gisanti and Lellan on your way out.”
“If we meet on the field of battle, I will not spare your life.”
“I wouldn’t ask for it, Machek.”
***
Machek left the camp of the infidels, his head ablaze with thoughts. The ride back provided him with time to sort through his options. The effects of the ale and herb had worn off, which helped him to focus. The Serpent King had corrupted the chief elder and would force him to open the gate, but the elder had put Machek in the middle, and he was not sure what to do.
Desi walked down the trail and met up with Machek before he crested the hill and descended into camp. His eyes darted, detecting movement amongst the rocks. The Serpent King could order the destruction of Machek’s caravan at any time. Desi wondered how long it would be before the infidels raided their camp.
“Welcome back,” he said to Machek. “You made it before the Sun God dropped behind the One World.”
“Yes, it was not difficult to do. Desi, I need to talk to you before we head back to camp. We need to make decisions now that will affect generations of our people. I need your help.”
“We have been friends for a very long time, Machek. I am honored to help you with your burden.”
The two men rode off the trail and down a hill overlooking a stream. A lack of rainfall had brought the water level to a point where a man could stand in what should have been a raging river.
“Even this far west, the River of Rokin should be racing past our shoulders.”
“Let’s cross while we can and hide our tracks.”
Machek looked over his shoulder. He did not see the Serpent King’s scouts, but pushed through the River of Rokin anyway. When they exited the riverbed and climbed the embankment on the other side, Machek led them to a group of sprawling pine trees. The fallen needles provided a soft bed to muffle the horses’ hooves, and the canopy above hid the men from searching eyes.
