by Matt Moss
“Well, hopefully that is not the case this time,” Maximus said and folded his hands. “I am a man with vices and must enforce all the will within me to keep them at bay, lest I act upon them without abandon. Surely, a man of the Order must respect that?”
Torin nodded. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Maximus. Do whatever you want. This is your house.”
“What I want is to renegotiate what we discussed before,” Maximus replied.
Torin eyed Maximus with caution, sizing the governor up. “You want to join us? Ride to war against the high priest and the Religion?”
“I do,” Maximus stated with assurance.
“What made you change your mind? Last time I treated with you, you said your hands were tied. That the high priest had you by the balls or something like that,” Torin noted and took another drink.
Maximus picked up a glass of water that sat nearby. “Victor has gone too far.” Nervously, he put the drink to his mouth and Arkin noticed the water that trailed down his chin, wetting the white tunic around his neck. It was then he noticed how the governor was dressed. Always one to take eye contact and body language as the most important aspect in meeting with someone, Arkin often disregarded the way someone dressed. He grew up a commoner and dressed like one, so he knew clothes didn’t make the man. But he took note of the governor’s attire and how slack it was, comfortable, white silk—not the clothes a man of Maximus’s stature would be wearing. Especially when making alliances and talk of war.
“I told you Victor had gone too far when I was here last, but you didn’t listen to me,” Torin stated.
Maximus shook his head. “I was a fool, Torin. Forgive me. I thought most of the people wouldn’t give into the Religion, especially those in the independent cities. But times are tough and the King’s Generosity ever increases, offering the people more and more incentive to take the mark. Without the mark, a person can hardly find a job, let alone pay for food. Everyone treats the free men like they’re the plague, afraid to associate themselves with them or else they’ll be branded a heretic too. In all my years, it’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Torin pointed to the window. “Seems the city is doing pretty well out there. I mean, look at all the merchants and travelers that are in the streets. Where’s all the money coming from?”
Maximus walked to the balcony, and Arkin and Torin followed. “The King’s Generosity has opened up new markets of trade. Money has almost become invaluable among the Religion, being replaced more and more every day by the barter system. Skills, goods, services; most everything is based upon trade now instead of money.”
“So that explains all the boats. They’re bringing in supplies.” Arkin said.
Maximus turned back to him. “Yes. The King’s Generosity and drudge are the main sources of trade now, and are shipped throughout the kingdom from Stonebridge. I ensure the caravans’ protection as they travel to the rest of the cities. Mind you, nobody would dare think to rob a caravan bearing the Eye of the Religion on the side of it.”
Torin shook his head. “Paul knew this day would come. The day when men would forsake everything for pleasure and a sense of security.”
“The high priest is making it too easy for people to want to convert to the Religion. Sure, they have a choice; take the mark or starve.” Maximus turned to Torin. “Tell me, what would you do if your wife and children were starving, their rib bones showing as they lie fevered in bed while the darkness closes in. Would you take the mark? Or would you watch them die?”
The governor’s words struck Arkin. What would I do if I were in that situation? What if I didn’t have these powers, if I weren’t a member of the Order? Arkin thought.
Torin drained his cup and looked Maximus in the eye. “I don’t have a family. But if I did, I’ll tell you what I would do. I would fight.”
Maximus grinned and looked at the city with empathy. “It sorrows me that more people don’t see things the way you do, Torin. Unfortunately, men like us… we are on the opposite side of the majority.”
“It’s good to be on the wrong side of the majority,” Torin noted and walked back into the room. Arkin drained his cup, and held his gaze on Maximus who was strangely looking at him, making him feel a bit uncomfortable. He followed Torin, and Maximus followed them into the room.
Maximus poured them another drink, but Torin declined. Arkin took it with thanks and shrugged at Torin’s disapproving eye. Maximus spoke. “I want to unite what’s left of the independent cities and join with the Order. This is our last chance to make things right. I’m afraid that if we wait much longer, there won’t be an independent city left in the kingdom, much less a free man that would stand for it.”
“The time to fight is now,” Maximus stated, looking to Arkin and Torin.
Torin turned to Arkin to get his take. Arkin cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, then put the whiskey to his lips. Not getting much from Arkin, Torin nodded and extended his hand to the governor. “Let’s shake on it and seal the alliance.”
Maximus nearly jumped at the offer and eagerly shook Torin’s hand. “Together, we will bring down the Religion and restore freedom to the kingdom.”
Torin’s grip tightened. “When will you be ready?”
The governor grinned. “I can have twenty thousand men at command in ten days. Will you be ready by then?”
“The Order can be ready in five,” Torin replied.
“Great. Then in accordance, I’ll send a messenger to Victor, declaring war. Like before, he will agree to meet on the field of battle between Greenehaven and The Crossing. There isn’t enough defense for his army in Kingsport, and he doesn’t want my siege engines upon him.”
“And we don’t want thousands of innocent lives to be lost by attacking the capital city. Ten days, then,” Torin restated, then saw himself out. Arkin finished his cup and shook the governor’s hand in leaving. “We’ll be ready,” Arkin said.
“I’m counting on it,” Maximus replied before Arkin left.
As Arkin walked through the doorway, he stopped, turned back to Maximus, and tapped his fist on the door frame. “Oh, and by the way. I’ve united the tribes and they’re marching towards our land as we speak. With the might of the Order, the independent cities, and the tribes, I’d say we stand a pretty good chance of winning this fight.” He grinned at the governor. “Just wanted to let you know that. Also, they’ll need permission to pass.”
Maximus nodded, taking everything in. “That’s… great news. I’ll be sure to grant them passage.”
Arkin met his gaze one last time, patted the door frame a couple times with his hand, turned and left.
After they were gone, Maximus walked to the table and took the whiskey bottle in his hand. After a moment’s thought, he put the bottle to his lips and drained the entire contents. He walked to the balcony and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a silk cloth.
Gazing into the street, he waited for Arkin and Torin to leave the keep. When he saw them leave the steps and blend into the crowd of people, he breathed a sigh of relief and walked back into the room. He put both hands on the long table, gathering his thoughts before he made contact.
“Get a hold of yourself.” He slapped his face three times, then closed his eyes, using his innate powers to communicate with the high priest.
“They just left. Everything went as planned.”
“Well done, Maximus. Or should I call you Trip? Which name do you prefer?”
“It doesn’t matter. I pledged my allegiance to them and promised the aid of the independent cities, just as you asked.”
“And they trust you?”
“Undoubtedly, Your Grace.”
“Why do I hear concern in your voice. You’re nervous about something.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You haven’t been the same since your friends were killed at the garden. Tell me, did you truly think you were immortal? Now reality has sunk in and you suddenl
y have something to lose. Nothing lasts forever, my dear friend. You, of all, should know that.”
Breathing. Silence.
“When does the Order march to war?”
“Torin said ten days. We meet in the designated spot, between The Crossing and Greenehaven. Oh, and by the way, they’ve united the tribes and are bringing them to war.”
“Very well. I’ll see you on the field of battle in ten days. Oh, and Maximus…don’t let me down.”
After the connection was broken, Maximus slid into a chair, thankful that the ordeal was over with. Did he even hear my last words? If so, he didn’t seem concerned about the tribes. His eyes went to the dresser. He pulled two more bottles of whiskey and drained the first one in a single breath. The second bottle, he relished as he stood on the balcony and overlooked his city.
THIRTY
It had been a long time since Arkin had been to Hayfork.
“Give me a minute, would ya?”
“Sure thing, Torin. Take your time,” Arkin said and reclined against a post.
Nervous, Torin brushed the dust from his clothes and tied his long hair back, trying to look presentable. Not like a road-worn traveler who hadn’t bathed in the last ten days. About to enter the inn, he moved to the side as two customers walked through the door and onto the front porch. Before he could take a step, another group of people barged past him. He let them by and took a deep breath before stepping into the inn.
Inside, the place looked different. The familiar, enticing aroma that came from the kitchen was no longer there. Flowers and herbs no longer decorated the window sills. What used to be spotless was now dusty. Still, the place was as crowded as ever. Torin walked to the bar.
“Where’s Clara?”
The bartender, an older man with a glass of ale in his hand, scrunched his face and pointed to the back room. “Probably back there sleeping with another fresh face from the road. She’d do anything for a hot meal and a warm bed, if ya know what I mean.” He chuckled and took a drink. Torin grabbed the man by the neck and picked him up with one hand. “Don’t ever talk about her like that again, understand?”
Straining for air and turning red in the face, the man choked out sounds and nodded the best he could. Torin cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Good.” He sat the man down. The bartender gasped for air and set the glass on the bar with a shaky hand. Torin put his hands on the bar. “Now, I’ll take a whiskey, please.”
“Sh..sure thing. Coming right up,” the man stammered and pulled a bottle from behind the bar. He spilled the brown drink as he tried to pour, still shaken. When he was through, Torin picked up the glass and shot it down. He relished the drink for a moment, then looked around the bar, patting his pocket in search of coin. “I know I’ve got some money on me somewhere.” The bartender watched as the big man searched for the payment. Torin stopped, looked up to the barkeep and grinned. “Oh, here it is.” He placed a copper on the counter. “And here’s your tip.” His fist slammed into the man’s face, knocking him back against the wall, causing bottles to tip and fall over. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head before he could even hit the ground.
Chairs scooted across the floor as a dozen men jumped from their tables.
Torin turned around and cracked his neck. “Who’s next?” Wide-eyed, he clenched his fists, looking for a fight. “Anyone?”
The sight of the big man made everyone turn their eyes away and sit back down like nothing ever happened. Torin nodded his head as he looked over the room full of silent men, all sitting in their seats. “That’s what I thought.” His boots stomped across the floor and into the back room as he searched for Clara. He found her out back of the inn, scrubbing the horses, her hair and clothes soiled. “Clara,” he said in a soft voice.
She turned to him and, instantly, her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh, Torin.” She looked down in shame. “I’m sorry you have to see me this way.” He walked beside her and raised her chin. “Don’t do that. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” Looking deeply into her eyes, he wiped away her tears and kissed her lips. Her mouth quivered as she kissed him back and her breathe quickened through her nose. She couldn’t help but smile and cry at the same time.
Torin caressed the side of her cheek. “I would ask how you’ve been, but I can see that you’ve been better.”
“Ever the charmer,” she said and touched his face. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“What happened?”
She looked towards the inn, scorn written upon her face. “The Religion, that’s what. I swear, I think everyone in the whole damn world has taken the mark.”
He furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. This inn has always done well for you.”
She found her resolve, blinked, and wiped the last tear from her eye. “Money isn’t worth a thing anymore. Not since the King’s Generosity has taken over. Everyone barters with goods, skills, and services now.” She looked through the back door that had been left open. “Can’t run an inn on hopes and dreams alone.” She looked into his eyes. “They took it from me. I couldn’t stop them.”
Torin looked at the inn, then back to Clara. “Who took it from you? Tell me their names.”
“A skinny man passing through and his men. I don’t know his name. Said he was the governor of Kingsport and that it was now in the possession of the Religion. Didn’t really bother me, though. At the time, I was having a hard time keeping the place going anyway, since nobody had the money to pay me for room and board. But things kept getting worse and now it’s all I can do just to care for myself and keep a roof over my head.” She looked into his eyes and touched his arm. “But I know that people talk. I’m sure you’ve already heard the rumors. I’ve never given myself to anyone, Torin. Never will. I’ll die before it comes to that.”
He held her at arm’s length, his big hands softly gripping her shoulders as he stared into her eyes. “I’m getting you out of here. Grab your things.”
She gave him a tired smile. “I have nothing, Torin. And I can’t go. Hayfork is my home. It has been since I was a child. And even though this inn isn’t in my possession anymore, it still feels like mine.”
“It’s not yours anymore, Clara. And it’s not safe. I’m taking you to the Order’s camp.” Seeing her still protesting, he sighed and took her hands in his. “I know this is your home, and it feels like everything has been taken away from you. I know the feeling. So let me promise you this; I’ll get your home back. The inn will be yours once again but, for now, you have to come with me. You have to let it go.”
Her eyes began to water as she pondered his words. With pursed lips, she nodded her head and followed him back into the inn. With her hand in his, he led her through the bar, drawing stares and taunts from the customers. Torin didn’t stop, didn’t slow down until they were outside. He turned to her. “Don’t listen to them. You are so much more than what the slandering crowd sees you as.”
She stifled a flood of emotion and pressed herself against him.
The smell of her hair brought back a flood of memories. “C’mon, Clara. Let’s get out of here.”
“Get a room,” Arkin said, walking up to meet them. He smiled in greeting as his aunt turned in surprise.
“Arkin. Goodness, child. My, how you’ve grown. You look just like your father.”
“How are you, aunt Clara?” he asked and gave her a hug.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Arkin could tell that she wasn’t fine and that she’d seen better days, but decided it best not to comment on it at the time.
“She’s coming home with us,” Torin said.
“What about the inn?” Arkin asked and gave a confused look to the drunken commotion that came from inside the place. “Who’s going to run the place?”
“We’ll fill you in on the road. Let’s just get out of here before I do something I regret,” Torin said, glaring at the inn.
They left Hayfork behind.
THIRTY-ONE
Victor
waited on the arrival of his guests. I wonder, will you see me as a monster? Or a savior?
He sat in a chair on the balcony, overlooking the final construction of the temple, pleased with the progress. The stone masons were putting the last touches on the Eye of the Religion, carving the features out with hammer and chisel above the entryway. After they finished, they would imitate the symbol on the other three sides, indicating that, in every direction, the eye was always watching.
With the announcement of war that he received from Maximus, he wondered how his guests would take the news. In other times, he would have calmed his mind with smoke or drink, but he hadn’t embellished in those vices in quite some time. He kept his mind clear, focused on what had to be done—on what would be done. Never before had he pondered so much on the meaning of life, the Almighty, and fate’s role in the universe. And he came to one ultimate conclusion.
Everything will end. That is the way it’s supposed to be, allowing rebirth to come from death. Light to emerge from darkness. He looked up into the sky and nodded slowly. I hear Your call and will act as Your hand, all for Your will. I will smite this world and everything in it.
His eyes went back to the temple and he focused on the tinging sound of the masons, clearing his mind of everything else.
Breathe.
“Victor,” Sarie called as she approached from behind. Victor turned and saw that Cain and Rico were with her, as he requested. “Ah, my family. Come, pull a chair from the table and sit beside me on the balcony. The weather is nice today.”
They did as he said, and Cain gave Rico a knowing look that said the high priest was truly crazy. Victor saw the look but paid it no mind, not worrying himself with their opinions of him. There would always be those who hated him. There would always be those who were fake, kind to him only for what he could do for them in return—for what he could give them. Nobody really cared.
