“But she barely speaks or moves and doesn’t respond to me. What am I supposed to do?” hissed Agamemnon spinning around facing the woman.
“Would you respond to you?” asked Dione raising her eyebrows questioningly.
He was just about to make a cutting reply but saw the look on her face and decided against it.
“My apologies, I am tired and haven’t slept.”
“You look like you haven’t slept for a whiles so that is understandable but don’t apologise to me, swordsman.” she said nodding towards the girl.
With a sigh Agamemnon turned and sank to one knee and placed the food and drink onto the ground by her feet then laid a hand on Anya’s small shoulder.
“Forgive me. Eat if you want to eat.” he said in a soft voice.
As he turned she sat down cross-legged on the floor with the cloth doll in her lap and began chewing on the bread and cheese methodically.
Dione smiled knowingly as the swordsman stood over her and tore a hunk from the bread and ate greedily.
“Her life has been filled with dangerous and angry men. She doesn’t need another.”
Nodding his head whilst eating Agamemnon pulled up a second chair, reversed it and sat facing Dione with his arms resting over the back rest.
“You are well?” he asked.
“I am as you see me. I work at dawn and finish at dusk. It’s a harsh existence but I enjoy the solitude and thank the Old Gods each and every day whether it be sunshine, rain, hail or drought.”
“Your Old Gods do not control the weather; it is just a part of the present world we live in.”
“Ever the disbeliever, Agamemnon.”
“I believe in the strength of my sword arm and what I can touch, see, hear and smell.”
“Belief is all we have swordsman, and what is belief but an acceptance that something exists or is true, especially without proof. You believed in the King once but given that you are now on my land with the King’s daughter then now you do not.”
“I swore allegiance to the King, as did you, Dione.”
“Pah!” she snorted. “I swore my allegiance but it is like a fart in the wind. I pay my taxes to the collectors on all my farm produce and if I do not have enough they take my tools or my animals. I do not exist to serve that whoreson, I exist to serve the Old Gods and I believe the Gods brought you both to me for a reason.”
“Talk like that in the citadel would see your head removed from your shoulders.” commented Agamemnon with a wry smile as he took another bite of his bread.
“Aye and you might have been the one removing it.” she retorted.
“How can you believe something you cannot see? If you can prove the existence of your deity, I would be happy to believe in them.”
“I don’t need to see them to know they have influence over me, swordsman. Let me tell you a story. Last summer my fields became waterlogged after unusually heavy rain. My spring-sown crops meant for the summer were ruined and it was my second year of poor yields. I’m just a small scale farmer compared to some of the others in the surrounding area and it was tough, really tough. I had barely enough food to survive the season but I wasn’t alone. People became hungry and desperate and people that feel desperate can do the most dangerous things. One day whilst I was out back seeing to the animals I was attacked by starving bandits. There were twelve of them and all with the same look of desperation in their eyes. They were prepared to kill me to get to what meagre supplies I had and I was alone and frightened. I knew it was my time to die that day but then just as they came at me with knife and sword I was saved by a King’s man and a handful of soldiers, men that I despised for what they stood for and who they represented. That King’s man was you, Agamemnon.”
“Do you know what I was doing? I was on Kings Duty enforcing tax collection.”
“It doesn’t matter. At that moment in time, when I needed someone you were there, and for that I was in your debt.”
“I am no longer a King’s man.” whispered Agamemnon. “Something changed within me and I cannot stop what I have begun.”
“What dangerous game are you playing, Agamemnon?”
“It is not a game. The King ordered his own flesh and blood slain and that was a command I could not carry out nor let others carry out. Gomorrah is a changed man and I cannot be a part of his plans.”
“But you are a part of his plans now.”
“I am.” said the swordsman coldly.
“You are being hunted?”
“A Meldling is tracking us.”
Dione hissed between her teeth and folded her arms across her ample chest.
“Those abominations were never meant to exist. How long do you have?”
“Hard to say, half a day maybe.”
“A deserter will not be looked upon favourably by the King. This is not a capture, this is elimination.”
“I know this.”
“Then you know you must face this beast.”
Agamemnon bowed his head and shook it slowly.
“I cannot defeat it.”
“Remember who you are, swordsman.”
“I know what I am capable of, woman,” hissed Agamemnon looking up. “But this is one battle I cannot win. Have you seen these creatures in person?”
“No I have not, but I have heard of them,” she admitted. “But let me tell you something. A couple of days ago I lost some chickens to a wolf and it was the biggest animal you ever did see but Raulyn took it down with one shaft, just one. A well placed strike and even the mightiest of creatures can fall.”
“I cannot defeat this beast.” he repeated.
“Then you may as well already be dead.” she snapped angrily.
Agamemnon glanced over his shoulder at Anya who was staring up at him blankly from her seated position on the floor then he looked back at Dione.
“You may be in danger. Our scent will lead the Melding to you.”
“Then you must leave and do so quickly, swordsman.”
“Do you have clothes and some food we can take with us?” he asked.
“I have clothes for a boy that Robert has outgrown, that will suffice and I will prepare you some food. Do you know where you are going?”
“It is better you do not know.”
“Then I will pray that the Old Gods watch over you.”
“If they do exist then I pray they are listening.” replied Agamemnon grimly.
Chapter Twelve
The town of Llewelyn
South of the capital city of Tarlath
There was an assembled crowd of hundreds to see the public execution on the raised wooden scaffold. Akkadian, clad in shackles, was led up the steps by two armed soldiers to the platform where the executioner stood holding his axe and flanked by a royal judge. His eyes raked the baying crowd humorously as he shuffled over to the blood-stained block and gave a little wave of his chained hands followed by a low mocking bow.
“Well, it’s well-attended isn’t it?” he said turning around to one of the soldiers and smiling pleasantly.
The soldier sneered and shoved him in the small of the back towards the low block much to the cheers of the raucous onlookers as the judge raised his hand for silence.
“Get on with it.” yelled a man at the front of the scaffold which was greeted by a chorus of agreement.
“Terribly impolite and a touch bloodthirsty, my good man.” remarked Akkadian looking down at the man with an offended expression.
“Silence!” roared the judge glaring at the spectators.
“You need to impose yourself a bit more,” commented Akkadian half-turning. “I think the occasion may have got to you a little. Have you done this before?”
Suddenly one of the soldiers stepped forward and cracked him over the head with the pommel of his sword. Akkadian staggered and grunted in pain as a small trickle of blood coursed down the side of his face. Finally the crowd silenced to the occasional muttering as the judge stepped forward and addressed them.
“People of Llewelyn; hear me now,” he said in a deep booming voice. “Against the laws decreed by the Great King above all Gods, King Gomorrah, ruler of all of Tarlath, the man known as Falstaff has been charged with idolatrous worship of false gods.”
“Not strictly true.” mumbled Akkadian frowning.
“The crime of murder of a man outside of a tavern.” continued the judge raising his voice even louder.
“That bit’s true,” he said with a winch on his face. “But in my defence I was slightly inebriated with two incredibly obnoxious whores.”
The soldier stepped forward once again with his sword raised threateningly and Akkadian shied away from it.
“I’ll spit on your head when it’s caught in the bucket!” screeched Tara the whore as she pushed her way to the front of the throng.
“Just a friendly warning to all you men out there,” shouted Akkadian. “Don’t cross her palm with coin, you’ll be itching for weeks.”
Tara’s painted red lips turned into a snarl and she tried to launch herself forward with her hands extended like claws but a couple of laughing men kept her restrained. The judge shook his head in exasperation and waited for the clamour to die down once again before speaking.
“And finally, the accused is charged with claiming he is a God.”
“Also true.” muttered Akkadian shrugging his shoulders weakly.
“Given his crimes and on the King’s behalf he shall be condemned from life to death by beheading. Does the condemned prisoner acknowledge and atone for his crimes? If you do so we will grant you a swift and clean death.”
“The only thing I should be found guilty of is not hearing your blundering whoreson dogs creep up behind me while I was taking a piss down the alley so whilst we’re on the subject of crimes your men blindsiding me, now that’s a crime. Plus that one that struck me had child-bearing hips and a desperately short surcoat and that is terribly confusing for a semi-delirious drunken man lying on the ground in his own warm piss holding onto his mutton dagger.”
A ripple of chuckles swept through the listening crowd and Akkadian nodded his thanks.
“Have you quite finished?” snapped the royal judge.
“May I address the crowd and make my last dying speech?”
“You may but make it quick.”
Akkadian remained quiet for a moment as he scanned the sea of faces looking up at him with eager anticipation.
“I can see that this is a silent and sombre affair for you all.” he finally said.
“Come on, off with his head!” a women screamed somewhere from the back.
“Off! Off! Off!” they chanted in unison.
“Awkward.” muttered Akkadian.
After a few minutes of holding his shackled hands up for silence the onlookers quietened down once again. Suddenly a man weaving his way slowly through the throng holding a wooden platter caught his eyes and Akkadian screeched out after him.
“Hey you, hold on! Are you selling hotcakes to the audience?”
The man looked up innocently and nodded his head as he served another customer.
“That man is selling hotcakes on my death-day!” whimpered Akkadian looking around for support. “I like hotcakes.”
“Make your speech or approach the block.” said the royal judge in a bored voice.
“Very well,” he replied sounding slightly hurt. “I’d like to start with a few thank you’s. Firstly, I’d like to thank the judge for such a fitting send off today and also thank my defence for not showing up, reliable as ever. I would also like to thank the bloodthirsty savage residents of Llewelyn gathered before me. I hope my decapitated head frozen in a permanent scream fills you with a moment of pure happiness and may I finally add a special thank you to your King who let me say is a touch harsh in his sentencing. Now let me talk briefly about the crimes that I am being accused of. What I will say is that I don’t worship Gods because that would mean worshiping myself.”
Akkadian paused for a moment and thought about what he’d just said then shrugged his shoulders.
“Hold on a moment, actually yes, I do indeed worship myself so I’ll give you that one. The man I killed outside the tavern was as quick to die as he was to draw his sword in anger. He was a fool and judging by his sisters the seed of ugliness runs in his blood so I was in actual fact doing the population of this lovely town a good deed.”
“You cheap whoreson!” screamed Tara
“How ironic coming from a woman who spends all day on her back with her legs open for a copper penny.” hollered Akkadian with a grin on his face.
She lunged forward once again but strong arms held her firmly back so she remained with her eyes fixed on him wide and full of hatred.
“Now good people of Llewelyn, finally onto the last crime that I’m being accused of today which is that of claiming to be a God.”
A hush fell over the crowd as they waited to hear what the condemned prisoner had to say.
“I am a God you dull insipid creatures so know this, my Godly needs are great so someone fetch me a hotcake, a women with large and shapely breasts and a flagon of your finest ale along with my sword. Only then will your God forgive you for I am Akkadian, One of the Four, deadliest of the Old Gods and disgustingly handsome too!”
The onlookers gazed at him in stunned silence with their mouths agape.
“Someone? Anyone?” queried Akkadian looking around hopefully.
“That is enough now!” shouted the royal judge. “Executioner, I command you to carry out the aforesaid punishment.”
He was shoved forward towards the blood-stained block and forced onto his knees with his head resting on the curved cut-out of the wood and the back of his neck exposed to the sky. A large basket had been placed beneath the block and straw had been strewn around to soak up the worst of the blood. Akkadian heard only the faintest grunt as the executioner lifted the axe high above his neck ready to strike. There was a collective gasp that ran through the crowd as they waited for the gleaming blades of the axe to fall but the death stroke didn’t come. Then all of a sudden there was a commotion from the multitude of people gathered to watch and Akkadian craned his neck on the block and looked up as the crowd began to quickly part. Striding through the throng, scattering people aside as he strode forward was a heavily muscled giant of a man. His naked torso was crisscrossed with scars and his left arm inked in strange runes. He had long brown hair, a square chiselled jaw and a thick brow over dark eyes.
“What is this?” yelled the royal judge sounding outraged.
“Oh, now you’re all in trouble.” whispered Akkadian standing upright.
Dar Thadian climbed the wooden steps of the raised scaffold and slowly approached the executioner.
“Timing is impeccable, Axe-Hound.” chirped Akkadian happily.
The giant ignored him, his eyes fixed on the executioner’s axe as his fists clenched and unclenched.
“Best give him that,” said Akkadian to the nervous looking executioner. “He gets quite possessive over cleaving things.”
“In the name of the King, I…..” yelled the royal judge.
“I can’t quite recall, Axe-Hound. Is it the haft or the head of the axe which excites you most?” asked the swordsman with a furrowed brow.
Dar Thadian growled low in his throat as the executioner slowly bent his knees and placed the axe onto the wooden floor of the platform and backed away with his hands outstretched, palms facing him.
“Take this man!” screamed the royal judge to the two armed soldiers.
One of the soldiers which had cracked Akkadian over the head with the pommel of his sword stepped forward with his blade raised but Dar Thadian merely swatted it aside with a huge hand then casually backhanded the man across the face. The soldier crumpled to the ground silently and lay still.
“This is all very exciting now, isn’t it?” said Akkadian cheerfully.
The second soldier lowered the tip of his sword and took a few steps back from the giant l
icking his lips nervously and unsure what to do. Sensing the public execution was over the crowd surged angrily towards the scaffolding hurling abuse at the newcomer and demanding the royal judge take action.
“The mob are getting restless, old boy,” commented Akkadian holding out his shackled hands. “How about you release me from these ghastly chains and we make a quick exit?”
Dar Thadian turned to face the protesting horde then looked up and bellowed to the skies with the thick veins on his neck standing out and his corded muscles bunched and swollen.
“I can see captivity has really helped you suppress your anger.” mumbled Akkadian jingling his chains.
This time the giants head snapped in the direction of the swordsman and his eyes gleamed dangerously.
“There was a line somewhere that I just crossed, wasn’t there?” asked Akkadian with a winch on his face as Dar Thadian stalked across to him, raised his huge fist and thundered it into his face with a sickening crunch.
Then all was darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
The capital city of Tarlath
Unfortunate’s alley
It was a dream. The same dream, again! A gift of terror from his subconscious that he was powerless to stop and a reminder of the horror he had become. It started in the same way as it ended in the same way. He was at the arena gate waiting to go out into the elliptical oval sand stage. His mouth was half open and his heart pounded really hard and fast in his chest as he heard the chants of the crowd, filled with bloodlust and anticipation.
“Beast! Beast! Beast!” the expectant throng sang in unison.
Through the heavy portcullis gate he could see the blood from the previous fight soaking into the yellow sand covered floor. Licking his dry lips he noticed that his sweaty hands were shaking and a knot of anger began to worm its way around his stomach.
“This is how I die today.” whispered Leonidis grimly.
“Better to die with honour than live with shame, thief,” sneered the voice of the soldier behind him. “'You have the honour of fighting in front of the King himself so put on a good show.”
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