Soon the frightening song had reached its end, and the twins had finished their fight. Only a few unlucky soldiers clung to life, and none of them were in any condition to continue fighting. All but one were in the dreamy state between this world and the next, and soon their souls would cross over into the black.
The one that had the most life left in him had tears in his eyes as he lay there motionless. Gorin remembered hitting this soldier at the back of his neck during the battle. There was no doubt that the blow had broken his neck and he was unable to move at all. His body, in a sense, had crossed over into the next world faster than his soul could follow.
Gewin stepped up next to his brother. "Ah this one looks like he is the freshest of them."
Gorin laughed at his Gewin's joke. "Yes, I suppose so. You can have this one, brother."
Gewin kneeled down and tore the armor off the man with his powerful hands, throwing it wildly over his head and behind him. Once the soft flesh of the belly was exposed, he bent over and bit into it with his massive jaws. Sharp teeth easily shredded the skin and muscle, and tore off chunks that Gewin hastily gulped down his throat. The soldier did not cry out. He could only stare helplessly through his watery eyes at the horror as he waited for the release of death. It would be some time before it came.
Gorin pulled a curved knife from his belt and sliced into an arm, twisting and pulling to separate it from the torso. Steam rose from the cut end as he bit into it, ripping ribbons of flesh off as he chewed. He ran his hand over the bloody stump and began smearing the blood into his braided locks of hair.
"I wish you would not do that, brother," Gewin said as he looked up from his living meal.
"Why should I not do it? You do the same thing yourself."
"Yes but it interferes with my sense of smell. If we were not on this mission, it would not matter. But we shouldn't risk clouding our senses while we hunt for the god of war."
"He is a long way off, Gewin. We have little to fear at the moment. I like to smell the dried blood after a kill."
"Yes, but I could smell these men before we saw them. If I carried the scent of blood in my hair, I don't know if I could have smelled them."
"Alright, brother. You're right. We'll do it your way. When you're finished eating, check them for any nice curved knives. I want a new one."
"These Vindyri seem to like straight blades like the Medorans do. I have only seen the Bhoors carry curved blades."
Gorin grunted a sigh. "That's not what I want to hear. Hopefully they have some gold or silver coins on them. At least then we can buy supplies."
"Why would we need to do that?" Gewin said as he chewed. "This method works just fine. Dinner walks right up to us and jumps in our mouths."
"I told you, brother, we need to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. The Medorans are not as inept as these Vindyri fools. They will be on high alert, especially with all the enemies swarming around them right now. We must avoid kills like this as we get closer to Medora."
"Why? No one can stop us. We can march right up to their capital, tear down the walls of whatever building Rommus is hiding in, and kill him."
"You know it's not that easy. There's his father we will have to deal with."
"So?" Gewin snapped. "He's nothing more than a man. Even his strength is nothing compared to ours. It is like fighting children. He will not be any trouble at all."
"Yes, my brother, we are certainly stronger than these wastes of skin, but their strength is not in their muscle. They have strength of the mind. You have seen how clever Tannis is while we watch him through the orb. His companions are nearly as formidable. We must approach with caution and not underestimate our enemy."
Gewin searched inside the ribcage for the liver, pulling it out with a wet snap when he found it. "They are men. We can defeat men. We just did so. Besides, we have the protection of Maeris."
"Do not be a fool, brother. Rommus is the new god of war. They all have his protection."
Gewin bit into the liver and laughed. "He has lost his powers. You have heard it yourself. That stone that the Emperor destroyed robbed him of any powers of a god."
"Then why can we still not see him when we use the eye of Indahinar? He is still protected by the light. I know that Uritus and even Maeris believe he has lost his power, but something tells me that things are not as they seem."
"It does not matter, Gorin. Even with the full powers of a god, he is no match for us. We know how to defeat him and we can do it easily. Even the armor of Arius cannot protect him. I cannot wait to finally set my eyes upon him and watch his soul leave his body."
"Nor can I, but I fear that the Zidaoz and his beasts will arrive before we do. I can't imagine Rommus will be out in the open where we can find him. I don't think Tannis will be either."
"No, none of them will be easy to find for some time. We may need to wait until after the war to get our hands on them."
Gorin bit into some bicep and chewed. "I don't want to wait that long. I want to know what the flesh of a god tastes like."
Chapter 18
The heavy clouds overhead had given birth to a gentle snowstorm. Fat flakes fell in meandering patterns, tossed about on the subtle winds. A silence hung in the air as the white winter blanket draped itself across the rolling hills. Sparkling diamonds of blue ice collected in the aqueducts and waterways, making time seem to stand still—frozen by winter's chill.
But in a few weeks the ice and snow would give way to cold rain, and then, warmed by the spring sun, the hills and valleys would once again be carpeted with green. Flowers would dot the landscape, framed by purple mountain ranges and sky-blue lakes. Life would roar back, returning to the land and weaving itself back into the scenery.
But for now, the landscape was cold and wet. Colorless clouds above tumbled slowly by, ensuring a long snowfall. The sun had abandoned the land, and shadows hid from the clouds, not knowing which direction to flow. Everything was a lifeless gray, with only the cold hues of blue to offer accent.
The sharp spikes of leafless trees stabbed at the heavens in vain. The clouds mocked and laughed at them, covering their bare branches with a thick layer of snow. The few brave leaves that had held on through the winter were teased by the wind and harassed by the tinkling snowflakes. That gentle sound of flake on dry leaf was the only sound that could be heard throughout the land.
But the cold was not all Song felt. He felt the pangs of guilt as well. He had succeeded in convincing Uritus that Rommus was not an ally, and in truth, that was indeed the case. He barely knew the man and their paths had only crossed for a short time—and half of that time they could be considered enemies. But regardless of the image that Song tried to show Uritus, he knew better. In his heart, he knew Rommus was a good man who was trying to do what was best for his people. The guilt that Song felt was because he felt he was betraying Rommus.
Uritus also appeared to be doing what he thought was best for his people, and his argument was a convincing one. When explained, it seemed fair to provide a sort of safety net for all the people of Medora. The idea of creating a uniform equality among the masses seemed justified. But when he was on his own, away from the flowery words of Uritus, those ideas made less sense. Song found flaws in Uritus's ideas, but it seemed that every time he met with him, he forgot them. Uritus had a way with explaining things that did not allow any sort of questioning of his theories. They were simply facts, and the debate was settled as soon as he uttered the words.
Aside from that, he was the Emperor of all of Medora. He was an important man who was not to be interrupted or questioned. The mere fact that he made time for Song at all was an honor; even if Song disagreed with his theories about society. Most of the time Uritus kept his conversations about his grand scheme simple and lighthearted, and Song began to understand what he was trying to do. Uritus kept from sounding preachy by providing very little information. This almost forced Song to ask questions, making it seem as if he was interested in learning more. Th
e questions were always exactly what Uritus was expecting to hear, and he had well-crafted answers already prepared. Song soon realized that having a conversation with Uritus was not a conversation at all; it was a well-choreographed attempt at indoctrination.
Rommus, on the other hand, had never made any such attempt. When Rommus spoke, it seemed more rooted in reason, and not wispy ideas. Things were more clearly defined, making room for ideas in the conversation which were not preplanned. Things were more black and white with Rommus, but somehow this was not more limiting than Uritus's way. Uritus offered clouds of understanding, while Rommus offered sturdy rocks.
This leaning towards Rommus made Song's mission difficult. No matter what Uritus said to convince him otherwise, Song could not see Rommus as an enemy. Even if there was some glaring fact that proved it, there was still the fact that Uritus was forcing Song to do things against his will, and Rommus was not. In fact, Rommus never forced Song-or anyone else, for that matter—to do anything at all. He had his companions and they seemed to help him work towards his goals, but none of them seemed to be slaves to him. They were working with him because they chose to; not because they had to. With Uritus, that was not the case—certainly not with Song.
Uritus threatened Song. It was masked in kindness, shining behind a smile, but it was a threat nonetheless. Oddly enough it had become more and more veiled over time, as opposed to becoming a firmer warning as time went on. It was obvious that Uritus meant to soften the whole idea and make his intimidation seem more palatable. It was yet another attempt to manipulate and make it appear as if Song was "coming around" to his ideas.
But Song remembered the threat well. It wasn't one that could easily be set aside in his mind. It was specific and tailored to him. It was the whole reason he was doing what he was doing, against his moral fabric. It was the one thing that frightened him more than even death ever could.
Uritus threatened to erase him.
Once fully contemplated, it was horror beyond horror. Every human that ever walked the earth dreamed to make a statement between his birth and death, and Uritus would see to it that that could never happen. Uritus would not just kill Song; he would send his soul to the void. He would send him to the great nothing, that terrible emptiness where nothing could ever matter. Even thought would be erased, and every memory he ever had-and probably any memory anyone ever had of him—would be gone.
It was bad enough for Song to be forced to live with the idea of never achieving anything in his life. There were countless people who had walked the earth before him, and countless who could come after him, who would never amount to anything at all. This fear haunted Song for most of his life, and as hard as he tried to overcome it, it seemed that the gods tried to kick his feet out from under him. No matter how far he had come in life, it was never enough. He was paralyzed by his own ambition.
But the void was a whole different story. It was natural to believe that there was some mystifying realm beyond the normal world where a soul could reside after death. It was a comforting feeling that kept most people from going insane or from the depths of despondency. But to have that option nullified, to have all hope of an afterlife shredded and discarded was too much to bear. It was orders of magnitude worse than simply failing to become a great man. The idea that a soul could literally be annihilated frightened Song to his core. In his nightmares he came close enough to that horror to fully understand its power. His dreams-and the empty blackness between them—were a good analogy for his fragile soul hovering between everything and nothing. It was truly terrifying.
And Uritus had the power to send him to that blackness—or at least he claimed to. Song dared not risk being wrong on the matter, and did as he was commanded to do. As far as he could tell, nothing he had done had caused Rommus, Alana or Vohl any harm or even brought them any closer to danger. He was just keeping an eye on them and reporting his findings back to Uritus. Most of the time he wasn't even close enough to hear their words. On a few occasions, when he did hear a few sentences, he didn't bother reporting it to Uritus, and Uritus never asked. In fact, he never asked for much at all. He only wanted to know where they were at certain times of day or night. Song assumed that Uritus was looking for patterns in movement so that he could intercept Rommus or the others. With this in mind, Song deliberately withheld or altered small details when he noticed any patterns himself. It frightened him to do so, but in his heart he knew that he could not endanger Rommus. It simply was not fair, and if offering Rommus a little protection would ignite the wrath of Uritus and earn him an eternal punishment in the void, then he would accept his sentence. He dreaded it, but he would accept it.
But this time, Song could not hide any information. Rommus had been surveying the areas to the northeast of Taburdum, where the long fields ended and turned into rolling hills and mountains. It had taken most of the day, and there was no way Song could hide the information of Rommus's whereabouts for that long of a time.
Song's major problem was that Rommus was escorted by about 30 soldiers, and they were patrolling the open areas around him. It was far too risky to get close enough to overhear anything, but he simply had to find a way. He was afraid that Uritus was getting suspicious, and he had been warned already. He needed to find out what Rommus was doing and report back to the Emperor that evening.
What Rommus was doing was obvious, according to Song. There was a war to plan, and the enemy occupied the city of Taburdum and the route from the city eastward. Beyond that, the massive army consisting of both Bhoors and Vindyri waited. It seemed that Rommus and his men were determining how they would use the terrain to their advantage to try to either end the bloodshed, or strike at the enemy. It seemed like a fairly simple operation, and Song could not figure out why Uritus put so much emphasis on spying on Rommus this time in particular.
Another thing he couldn't figure out was why Rommus and his men were so open about what they were doing. They made no real attempt to hide themselves, and surely the footprints of man and horse would clearly show what they had been doing in the area. The snow would gradually fill in the footprints, but there would be obvious indentations and clues about what had happened there. Galloping hooves had kicked up dark mud onto the white snow. The fact that the horsemen patrolling the area were continually riding in their same tracks over and over was baffling.
While the patrolling horsemen were out of sight, Song risked inching in a bit closer. He used the trees and taller shrubs to hide behind, and he was careful to walk at the foots of hills where a passing rider could not see his footprints in the snow. Where he could, he jumped from tree bole to tree bole, disguising any straight lines of tracks a human would make. A scout scanning the area might see a few prints, but would probably mistake them for indentations made by squirrels or rabbits.
A wolf trotting through the snow caught his attention. It was a beautiful black wolf, with yellow eyes like Daphne but larger than she was. When the wolf saw him, it paused and stared for a moment, sniffed the air a bit, and went on its way. It wove through the trees, probably looking for a quick meal. Or perhaps it was just marking territory, as it did not seem to be in any hurry or seem to fear being seen. Mostly when a predator was looking to kill, it made sure to stay out of sight.
The wolf soon crested a hill and disappeared. Song sniffed the air like he saw the wolf do, just to see if maybe he could smell the animal. Daphne had a smell, but it was really only strong when she was asleep. It was a comforting smell to Song, and he was always pleased to get a whiff of it. The wolf, however, made no smell that Song could detect. He could only smell the flat, icy smell of winter, with the slightest hint of leaves still decaying from the fall.
He suddenly found himself only a short distance from the muddy tracks left by the riders. Just over the hill in front of him, out of sight, was where the soldiers were. On another hill a little farther east, Rommus and a few other soldiers could just barely be seen through the tall trees. Song could hear a few voices but they were
muffled behind the snow-covered hill.
Going any closer to the path would almost certainly lead to him being spotted by a patrol, so he decided to focus on what he could see instead of what he was unable to hear. From where he stood, he was hidden by trees and through the branches he could make out the movement of human figures. Rommus was wearing his red armor. Not just on his arms, but all of it, including his helmet. In his hands he held a map or at least a large parchment. Several men around him pointed to it and nodded or shook their head as they discussed whatever it was they were discussing. It seemed just a little strange to Song that Rommus would not remove his helmet to read his map. Other soldiers had done so, and it was odd to see Rommus keep his on.
Rommus was a bright flickering flame in his red armor on top of that hill. Even with the sun hiding high above the clouds, the armor shimmered and sparkled as if touched by the rays of the setting sun. The gold accent threw streaks of amber light in all directions. Song had seen the armor before, and while it was a stunning work of art in its own right, he did not remember it looking like he saw it look on that snowy hill. He couldn't quite put a finger on what he was seeing, as the harder he focused on the armor, the less otherworldly it appeared. It was only truly stunning when he was not so intensely focused on it, which made him focus even more. Song became lost in his fascination and began to feel a little dizzy.
"What are you doing here?" came voice from behind him.
Song froze with fear. He had somehow left the safety of the trees and wandered out right into the center of the path that the horsemen had been making for hours. His senses all flooded back to him as he turned around to face the voice.
Song tried to think up a quick answer. "I—I lost my dog up here. He's black. He looks like a wolf. Have you seen him?"
Soul Under the Mountain (Legend of Reason Series) Page 10
