There was a great, frightening horn, a call and coming through the battlefield like a storm in black. It was King Teraht.
"Come and fight me, boy!" He shouted and raised his sword. It was black and flames ran across its surface and into the air. It smoked and steamed from its surface, a strange black metal. The king's stallion reared up as if in answer to the king's challenge.
"What is that?" Asked Rhajit.
"Some devilry of Black Alchemy. Has to be." Said Rapheth.
"It is terrible to behold!"
"It is grotesque." Said Luz.
"And I must do battle with it." This was the first time in weeks that Rapheth felt unsure of his fate. But only for a moment. Rapheth spurred his horse to meet the king with his closest attendants with him.
"You killed my sons, you harlot's son!"
"I am of your blood, you thieving murderer and only do what all your blood has ever done!" King Teraht laughed harshly, his voice hard and cruel, his eyes glittering.
"You are weak without your sword. We shall test it out and see which sword is from the gods and which one isn't. What sort of craft made yours?" He taunted.
"Raise yours erect and find out!" Rapheth said. The king did just that, raising it high in the air and the sword spit out waves of fire. He then pointed it at Rapheth, hurling fire at him. Rapheth covered himself with his shield. All around him were battling men, their screams and cries of triumph or agony and rending of flesh and bone. His arm burned, the flesh searing as the flames burned through his shield. Rapheth gasped and threw his burning shield down, wheeling his horse forward to meet the king. His sword became like a blinding white light and he swung it in an arc down against the king who blocked it with his flaming black sword. Each time these swords touched and came together fire and light shimmered and flew off like flames from a fire. They went hacking and slashing at one another like fiends in rage. King Teraht then struck Rapheth's horse, severing an artery. The beast crashed to the ground nearly crushing Rapheth under it. Rapheth fell from his mount and rolled over, holding onto his sword. Above him he saw King Teraht's eyes, cruel and cold, boring down on his fallen foe. He reared his horse up to trample him underfoot. Rapheth lifted his sword and blinded the beast and it wheeled away and then bucked the king, trying to shake him from its back. The king tried to get the crazed beast under control but to no avail. The horse threw him and then he and Rapheth stood face to face, throwing themselves at each other in combat. Around and around they went kicking up dust and bloody dirt around them as they battled. The king brought his word down slashing at Rapheth, the sword's flames searing heat singing a patch of skin from Rapheth's face. Sweat poured in his eyes and stung him. He blocked and slashed a wide piece of the king's armor open. The king was forced back a step and Rapheth swung his sword down on the king, grazing his cheek. The king bellowed out a great howl of rage and began beating and striking Rapheth down trying to knock the sword from him. Rapheth took a handful of dirt and flung it in his face but this did nothing to deter the king. Rapheth sprang up and engaged him again. And as he stood up, his power waning he felt the sword renew him and strengthen him and the blade brightened. He slashed the king's black armor again and another gash appeared, his bare skin underneath. Teraht lunged at Rapheth who side stepped him. They entered a death struggle, swords and arms clasped together, the light from them blinding and painful to all around them.
Rapheth felt himself slipping into a trance. The light from the swords created a barrier between them and the rest of the armies. Before him he saw into the very soul of the man before him. A man with a snake's head and slits for eyes and wreathed in dark flame.
You are like me you know. Teraht taunted. Cold, dark. Darkness surrounds you, young one. You are right. You will be no different from me or your mother. You are your mother's child. You will be one more Seht who sits the throne and rules for the gods of Egi. Through them you will serve the unnamed one who rules all! You think you are holy. You think because you call upon the First One that you are pure but you will not escape. The name of Seht is powerful because our forefather served Shaitan. Our blood lives on in you. You are Just. Like. Us.
Rapheth felt the wild rage of his father surging within him. Teraht began to laugh, which grated on his nerves raw. He'd gone through this before with the dragon. He chose his destiny, none else. And even if he did have Seht blood running through him he was not one of them. He chose which gods he worshiped and regardless of what ancient apostasy one mere man committed he had already made his choice.
Every man is his own soul. Every man has darkness and light. Which side grows is the one you feed. And I feed on the light, no matter how wretched I am.
The sword of Ishuye pulsed with blinding white light again.
Like Ishuye before me, with this holy sword, I am the zeal and the fury! And he, with blinding fury lunged forward making the king stumble back and slashed Teraht's armor once again, this time into shreds. Teraht brought his sword down upon him but the white sword shattered the black sword of fire and its white hot blade seared the black metal and it melted and cut through Teraht's arm like paper. Teraht dropped to his knees in shock at his mortal injury, shaking his head as if to deny it. The great black sword of the Black King was broken. And suddenly the inbetween world trance lifted. All around them men were fleeing. The Egian army had broken ranks and were fleeing from before the tribesmen. Most no longer had any swords to fight with and when they saw their king's mighty alchemical sword broken it destroyed any hope they'd been holding on to. The prophet's heartfelt words came unbidden to him. You must know it in your heart and only then will the true man in the heart become apparent. He thumped his fist to his heart and shouted out to all his army.
"Chase after them. Finish them off!" Rapheth shouted. And the desert army with their king went chasing after all of the Egians and did not leave one man alive. It was just like in the days of the judges. In the days of Ishuye.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The young queen's train was waylaid by a group of highway-men. First she had to submit under her mother and father and now under a foreign husband who cared nothing for her. She saw her chance to make a bid for freedom and sovereignty as queen of Zapulia. It was a wild idea but she and her maidservants had planned and managed it. How to get all the way back to Zapulia was another matter. Queen Putuale had not thought that far ahead, as getting outside of the palace without the consent of her husband was a near impossible feat. Drugging the eunuch in charge of the harem and the Egian maidservants the night after the king had left for war, she'd escaped with her most precious jewels and possessions in a trunk. They stole mules and left the city looking as best like commoners as they could and now found themselves lost in the high desert. She gazed around, feeling dazed, afraid and hungry. Queen Putuale did not understand what these Hybronians and Egians saw in the desert; the songs, poetry and axioms proclaiming its beauty. It was a bleak, dry, ugly wasteland to her. She longed for her homeland of trees, flowers, rolling hills and the blue-green valleys, farmlands and the sea. Her land. Here she was choked on sand, grit and sweat.
The first thing she did was instruct her ladies to call her by her proper honorific: Serene Greatness. That was at least some small salve to her soul.
"I cannot tell why this is so great a kingdom. I cannot tell."
"No, Serene Geatness." Said one of her serving girls. "I cannot tell either. It is bad. Infertile. Ugly."
"And their gods! Gods of blood and death and darkness." She said with disgust. Zapulian gods and goddess reveled in fertility in all living things. Most, anyway. She shuddered when her thoughts turned to the goddess who demanded blood sacrifice. Of humans. She was a transplant from Egi many years ago and when Putuale had left Zapulia the worship of her was growing. She touched her belly, only now just beginning to swell. The child inside was never to be named. To be given to Nimnet upon birth. She and her unborn child had escaped. But had they, really? Would Nimnet's counterpart demand the child when she arr
ived home? She shook it from her mind. Her plan now was to get home.
They tried to sooth themselves with songs of courtly love, poetry put to song from a long dead Zapulian poet. After two days they had run out of food and water.
"Serene Greatness, what do we do now?" Even through the protective veils they were becoming sun-burnt.
"Oh. We pray, Gisga. Pray to the gods. Pray to Dana that she may spring up a fount of water here for us to drink." Her throat hurt so bad she wanted to weep.
"Will we die out here, Dana? I call to you because I fear the other who resides in Yallas-of-the-Valley, who always desires so much blood; the gods of my mother and father, how I have feared and hated! Please, hear us, Great Dana!" But she did not have to discern an answer from Dana. In the distance they saw people coming. A great crowd of men were riding toward them.
"Look! We must hide!" Screamed one of the girls. The young queen affixed her diadem upon her head and they turned their mules and ran them as fast as they could but the men swiftly overtook them.
"Do not touch me! I am queen of Egi and Zapulia!" The queen announced in as imperious a voice as she could muster, which was not much since she was very young and frightened. It sounded more shrill than anything. She struggled to put on her crown, affixing it upon her head again as it was lopsided.
"It has been too long since I have had a woman. Great sport we shall make of them!" Said one of the vagabonds grinning wolfishly.
"Do not dare to touch me or my serving women!" Her voice cracked in shrill panic. The vagabonds laughed.
"You will do no such thing. Especially not to her. She is a valuable thing for us to barter with, to either king that wins the battle. Or to me." Said one of them. He was slightly darker than the others with long ringlets and a thick, short beard.
"And who says so?" Said the other.
"I say so. Do I have to set you straight as I have done to several of your fellows? Do not touch the hand maidens either. We will have plenty women when we get to Andrimis."
"What is Andrimis?" Complained one of them.
"The nearest town." He said. "She is a very valuable bargaining tool."
"Leave us alone!" She shouted imperiously. The young man gave her a grim smile.
"No. You have run right into my arms, my queen. Or at least you look a queen with such a queenly diadem. I am Ephron, your protector. Be grateful, Your Greatness, or I will change my mind and your fortunes will change." He called to the men.
"Tie them up and bring them! We ride for the town!" And they were bound and taken. When they reached the town one of the men, the youngest and wisest, slipped away after stealing a horse from a stable. He went his way trailing the Hybronian army and told one of the king's attendants, Rhajit, the whereabouts of this large crowd, who then told the young king.
. . .
They brought him into the king's tent and he prostrated himself to the ground.
"So it would seem we have another 'desert king' somewhere in Egi," said Rhajit.
Rapheth's mood darkened. He dreaded this day.
"Where do you come from?" He asked.
"From the border of Egi and the camp of Ephron and his mighty men, my lord."
"How many men does he have gathered to him?" The king asked, watching the young warrior carefully.
"Six hundred." He said.
"Do not lie to me."
"I do not lie, my lord."
"Why am I your lord now? Were you not just in the company of my enemy?" It hurt him physically to even say the word.
"I was. But he intends to do some harm to you with the woman he kidnapped. One of them I think is of royal blood."
"And why would you care about this woman? Are you not a mercenary? What do you think to accomplish coming here?"
"I am not a very good one, I admit. He is a strong leader but he is not the king. He styles himself a king but as the days grow, more good-for-nothing men gather to him. There is no law but his among them. I do not want such a life." Rapheth glanced at Elfic, who had shown himself loyal and courageous and who was now part of his circle. Elfic studied the young man closely then shrugged.
"So what do you want of the king?" Elfic asked.
"I want law and order and rule and respect. What can such men attain in times like these? Is he not the prophesied one?" The young man turned to the king in earnest.
"You are not of our people. How do you know of that?"
"I have heard it many times in the land. Are you not the prophesied Red King who will bring peace and justice to the land for the people?"
"I am." He motioned to Elfic to attend to him.
"Prove yourself valorous and trust-worthy and you may join the king's army. Bring shame and dishonor and the king will have you executed." Said the king. The young man bowed low.
"You may leave," he said. "Elfic, give him all that he needs and he must cleanse himself and give a sacrifice before entering with us. Attend to it. Set him as a foot soldier. Valor through humility." Elfic took the young man out of the tent to attend to it.
"How do you know he will not go back as a spy to the other camp?" Asked Rhajit.
"I will have him watched. Anyway, this may be good information he brings. This sword has more than one function. When I hold my sword in my hands, if it is not drinking the blood of my enemies it speaks to my heart. He is not lying to me. Rhajit, take seven hundred men on asses. We will go to this town in Egi and I will face him myself. Ready an ass for me."
They went riding, six days, to the town of Andrimis and called him out. Rapheth kept the star sword with him but strapped on a steel sword instead.
"We call for the desert king! Come out! The king of Hybron would treat with you!" Called Rhajit. Injol was also by his side. Not finding them in Andrimis Rapheth had the young man bound and ready to be put to death if they did not find them. That night they had encamped just above the foot of the mountains and then early at dawn had come down from the mountains.
But Ephron's men were waiting in the mountains for them and had come up from the rear of the camp. In the melee at first Rapheth did not recognize him. Both of them wore beards now. Ephron looked like a wild man.
"Why have you gone against me? Do you not know that you cannot win?"
"If I must get glory for myself by coming up against you I will do it by any means! It is the only honor a man has!"
"Glory! Honor! It is all glory with you!"
"Honor is no archaic relic but a living,breathing thing that must be protected against cowards, fools and wicked men! Do you remember?"
"I remember. Am I a coward? A fool? Wicked?"
'I would not say wicked or a coward. But a fool, yes!"
"Then so are you. as for honor, you forget, it can be taken away from a man just as he acquires it!"
"And will you take it away? I hope you do!"
"I thought we were friends? Brothers?" Ephron seemed momentarily shaken at this but recovered himself.
"I have no other choice. I cannot go back now. I cannot fall in front of my men."
"But I can. . ."
"Stand and fight!" He raged and flew at Rapheth like a diving eagle. With a steel sword of Omun's make. The steel swords sang through, whistled through the air like silver fire, both men charging, slashing, leaping and side-stepping each others blows. Both bloodied arms and legs cut to ribbons, Ephron made a furious attempt charging in and slashing at Rapheth, going right for his throat. Rapheth side-stepped slightly faster and when their swords clashed Rapheth's stronger steel broke Ephron's steel blade, splintering it into two pieces. Ephron whipped out a long, thin dagger and thrust it into Rapheth's side. It pierced his side but went through the leather, just missing vital organs. Rapheth, barely feeling the pierce, forced his opponent down into the sand and plunged his sword into Ephron's chest screaming out as he did. Ephron's body shook and convulsed. All around them Rapheth's men took down the wild men but to Rapheth it seemed as if they were not there. It was as if they were mere bugs in the ear. Rapheth d
iscerned a shadow fall over him. He looked around. It was Rhajit. Rapheth took up Ephron's head and cradled it in his arms. Ephron's breathing was labored. His eyes blinked wide and then he finally seemed to focus upon him.
"Why?" Whispered Rhajit.
"I had to. Else, I would have dishonored myself. Once a man chooses a path, he must walk it or fail." A stream of blood ran from his mouth down his chin.
"You did not have to walk that path. We could have come to an understanding."
"I would have gone back on my word. You see after I. . .left," he coughed painfully and blood spattered from his mouth, "I had vowed to kill you. Out of rage. I had called down evil upon the chosen one of God. I began to understand when I saw the red star that I had truly made an unforgivable error. I have committed many grievous acts since then. But I had already made my vow. You know the old ways: 'Let your Yes mean Yes and your No mean No, less He become enraged at you for making baseless vows.' I even drew my own blood in my wrath. But I had already vowed. I am a man trapped, Rapheth. Tell my family I died in battle. At least give them that comfort for me. Please. . .brother." Ephron's eyes then went lost, the look of the staring dead.
"No, not unforgivable. Grievous but not unforgiven." Said Rapheth quietly. When the battle was through he ripped open his garments and wept, took up his friend's body, wrapped it in cloth and put it upon his own beast and they took him back to Iyaak Rock. When Shukala saw Ephron he fell down and ripped his garments open as did Rapheth, who wept bitterly into the night over his friend's soul. And when the morning came they traveled back to Rhuctium. Rapheth had him prepared for proper burial at his family's new house.
"My son, my son." His mother was inconsolable.
"He has died a warrior's death, Ephraim and Katurah." Said Rapheth. He did not tell them of all that transpired for they were aggrieved already. For Rapheth, Ephron's transgressions were already forgiven as he paid for them with his life. And all those that knew him rose up and there was a great weeping for him and his family had him buried as a warrior in the family crypt of Ephraim.
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