The Ageless Giant

by B K Suitter

  ************************

  The mare was lathered with sweat as it pounded its hooves into the dirt on the hard ride north, setting out from Eight early that morning with an urgent message for King Ironheart. The rider bent low and rode with all the experience of an Arani horseman, riding up the Timberland forest trail towards the North.

  Bruid thought of his younger days when he would race horses in the Arani City fairs. He never lost and was considered one of the finest horsemen in all the Eastern Kingdom.

  He also rode in the Kepdun Traveling Carnival on the few occasions when it was given permission to set up inside the walls of Castle Sunflower. He would perform all sorts of riding tricks and maneuvers and even acted out small scenes on a well-trained horse.

  The stunt he loved the most was when he would ride across the carnival grounds to save the damsel in distress. The crowd always seemed to cheer the loudest when he rode in fast on his white horse to grab the damsel’s outstretched arm and swing her up into the saddle behind him, all without stopping.

  Movement in the forest beside him broke him from his reverie. Bruid could see figures running along beside him in the trees, matching his horse’s fast pace. He put his head down as his horse sped up, and he was well aware of the danger on both sides of the forest trail. He watched as the Kadomi warriors ran with exceptional speed and they carried swords and spears at their sides as they glided through the trees with ease. They moved like animals but were clearly men, and they glanced at him through the curtain of tree limbs and leaves and he could see the wild hunger in their eyes.

  “Go, go, go,” Bruid urged his terrified horse, holding on tight and balancing himself with expert horsemanship so the animal could flee faster. He began to pull away from the Kadomi as his mount ran up the forest trail with amazing speed.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” he laughed as he spurred his mount on. They outdistanced their vicious pursuers and soon there was no sign of them at all, but he kept his horse running up the trail as fast as it could go.

  He rode hard and was close to seeing the edge of the Timberland forest when he spied a woman being assaulted in the middle of the trail. There were five large brutes with long dirty hair holding the screaming woman down and battering her with hard punches.

  Bruid had no time to think as he rode up fast on the scene, and so he did what he was trained to do. He pinched his thighs together to clamp onto his mare and he yelled out ahead to the screaming woman as she fought hard on the ground against her assailers. He reached out with a strong arm and slowed his mount just a bit and his horse crashed into the men, sending them sprawling as he grabbed hold of the woman’s arm and swung her up into the saddle behind him, and then he spurred his mare up the trail and away from the screaming men.

  “Are you ok?” he asked over his shoulder as they rode fast up the trail. The woman said nothing but continued to hold on tight to his sides.

  “Are you hurt?” Bruid asked, and he turned his head around to look at the woman. He froze in the saddle when his eyes locked onto her’s and saw the orbs of a cat. With incredible strength, the Kadomi easily lifted him out of the saddle and dropped him onto the trail while they were still riding fast. Bruid crashed to the forest floor and rolled for a great distance until he struck a thick tree and shattered the bones in his back.

  **********************

  General Kneeamara stood with an air of impatience, making it hard for Harn Cross and the other elite soldiers to relax as they hid in shadows under the canopy of trees. They had been waiting all morning and now a midday sun threw warming rays down upon the forest and the air became hot and dry, making Kneeamara sweaty and uncomfortable. She held back her irritation and took a deep breath, letting her mind wander while the large group continued to hide and wait.

  The forest always reminded Kneeamara of her childhood days, when she would sit at the edge of Tacker’s Pond and just watch her younger brother fish. Milden was six summers old when they first started visiting the forest pond. Their mother would always kick them out of the house for the day, so they began spending all their time in the company of quiet trees instead of the loud clamor of the dirty streets of Graisen Town.

  Kneeamara would laugh and clap each time Milden yanked another fish from the clear water. By the end of the day, the young boy would have a small stack of the tiny fish and they would clean them and take them back to their small dirty hovel. They were extremely poor, and their mother was not for showing them any love. Kneeamara had never known her father, or Milden’s for that matter. Their mother made her money by letting men abuse her, and it disgusted Kneeamara and she became more of a parent to Milden than the woman that birthed him.

  She was thirteen when they both came home one day to find their mother dead. Milden was nine and seemed to take it rather well. They went to stay with an abusive uncle, who spent most of his time passed out drunk, but the man had a gift for picking pockets and he began teaching the two without delay.

  Kneeamara and Milden quickly learned the easier moves and were soon on the streets, bumping into people and picking simple pockets. Milden was only ten and Kneeamara fourteen, so when they were caught, and they were caught quite often at first, they were merely scolded and sent on their way.

  For three years the two practiced the dishonest trade and soon Milden was one of the smoothest pickers on the street. The young boy could reach into a deep pocket, take the gold and not the silver, and leave a small flower in return, all without the person being any the wiser. Kneeamara loved her brother dearly and she beamed with pride at the young boy’s accomplishments.

  A year later, the two were working the streets of Asarian City. It was a virtual goldmine for the two and they made their uncle quite comfortable. He would drink all day while the two were out picking the pockets of all the unsuspecting travelers, making good money for simple work.

  Kneeamara still remembered the mysterious man. He was tall and extremely handsome, and he walked as if he was the only man on the street. He looked confident and rich and Milden was immediately drawn to him. Kneeamara stood back and watched with a growing feeling of dread. She silently pleaded Milden to break away from this particular take. There was something about the man that told Kneeamara he was ready for anyone to try such a bold move on him.

  Milden came from a sharp angle to intersect the tall man and timed it so he would be pressed the most by other travelers that walked the busy street. Kneeamara lost sight of Milden as he went into the thick crowd, but soon the press thinned, and her heart dropped as she saw the man holding onto her brother’s arm. Milden resisted at first and Kneeamara began to make her way towards the two, but then the man was talking gently and the boy stopped his struggle. Kneeamara stopped with relief as she watched them laugh together – the man still holding Milden’s arm out.

  Then, with a quickness Kneeamara had never seen before, the man drew out a short blade and lopped off Milden’s hand at the wrist. Then he let go of the boy’s arm and walked off into the crowd. Milden did not scream out at first, so shocked was he that he simply watched the blood spray from his severed wrist. Kneeamara, however, cried out in disbelief and was at her brother’s side without delay, begging the crowd for help and finding only cold eyes and people going wide to avoid the tragedy.

  Milden struggled on a small bed for days, fighting despair, infection, and a high fever until he passed away in the night with Kneeamara forcing tears from a dehydrated body. She begged someone, anyone, to end her life as well, and she wandered the streets with hopelessness for weeks, ending up in a dark alley close to death herself.

  Packen was the name of the man that found her that night and took her in. He was the leader of a mercenary band that hired on to traveling merchant caravans to help see them to safety. Soon, Kneeamara found herself fighting to crawl out of a pit of despair and she channeled all her anger and sorrow into training with the dangerous group of mercenaries so she could join Packen’s band. By the time she was twenty summers old, Kneeamara w
as one of the leaders and she excelled in all her endeavors.

  Over the years, Kneeamara began to miss her brother dearly and it weighed on her heart so much, that when she came across a young boy of ten summers who had just lost his mother to sickness, she befriended him at once. His name was Simeon Redsword and they quickly found solace in each other’s company. Kneeamara was like a mother to the young lad, and Simeon reminded her of Milden. For ten years the two were the best of friends, right up to when Simeon helped save her life on a mercenary pilgrimage to the Temple of Carami.

  Kneeamara knew she had been touched by magic, and that the monk, Darious, had used it to save her life at the temple. Kneeamara was never the same again and she hid for months after returning to her home in Asarian City. She would wake up vomiting every night for weeks and her head ached as her mind seemed to unravel as it reached out to grasp every detail that filtered its way throughout her brain.

  A long year went by before she was able to control the magic, and then she did nothing but use it. Kneeamara would read people’s minds and play illusionary tricks on unsuspecting crowds, and she could manipulate any man into doing almost anything. She became powerful and she seemed almost immortal as she stopped ageing and was even more beautiful. She became more like a witch, and she became even lonelier and mentally secluded as no one could match her intellectual power.

  One day, while living in Starcrest, Kneeamara came across a young boy who tried to pick her pocket while she walked the busy street of the large city. She immediately grabbed the boy’s arm, and she flashbacked to the horrible day when the man had cut off Milden’s hand. Kneeamara froze in a time sweep and everything seemed to stop. The young boy looked up at her and his face was Milden’s, and then time started again, and she found the young boy struggling against her tight grasp, so she let him go. Off he ran and she scoured his mind to know where he was going.

  Later, she found the boy sleeping alone in the dark corner of an alley. Kneeamara knew he had no one, in fact, she knew the boy had rich parents at one time, but they were brutally murdered in front of him, and she saw it all through his own eyes.

  Kneeamara befriended the young boy the next day. She made herself seem to be a young girl named Mara, and she brought the young boy to her home to live with her and her illusionary mother. Soon, after spending weeks together and subjecting the young boy to her magic, the boy, Trenor, started showing signs of abnormal behavior. The two would start talking before they started speaking, reading the first thoughts of each other’s minds. Kneeamara realized that by touching Trenor daily with her magic, he was becoming magic himself, as if it could be spread like a virus. Mara began showing Trenor how to use the magic and the boy practiced daily. The more his power grew, however, the more the boy became sick. At first it was simple nose bleeds, but after time, there was vomiting and immeasurable headaches that would leave the boy unconscious. One night, while Trenor was sleeping, he simply died and Kneeamara was crushed.

  There were other attempts at trying to fill the void that Milden left, but all the homeless boys that she used her magic on eventually turned out as Trenor did: dead.

  For many years after, Kneeamara traveled throughout the lands of Asaria, living a lonely life near to royalty as she became invincible in all her affairs and easily found her way to the sides of rich and powerful men. She grew cold and heartless and it was not long before she found herself enthralled in the highest ranks of King Uriah’s ever-growing army. She was invited to sit at high ranking tables at dinner parties, and in closed-door meetings much too important for anyone less than a general. She became second in command of Prince Hadias’ dark army.

  **************************

  Tristania stared at the massive watchtower from the cover of shadows and trees. Tanner stood next to her in awe as he too was mesmerized by the sheer size of Eight. It seemed to reach high up to the clouds, and the radius of the towering structure was enormous as well. Eight was like a small castle and the two children of ten summers were held breathless.

  “How do we get into there?” asked Tris, her tone edged with doubt.

  “We walk,” replied Tanner with a smile.

  The two had been on the run all night and were exhausted. They had escaped from the wagon cage after the strange man had emerged from the trees to unlock the door and set them free. But after he picked the lock, a mysterious woman came into the forest clearing and soon the two were engaged in battle. Tris went to the cage door and pushed it open and immediately they were escaping into the trees and on the run. Tanner kept insisting he knew where he was going, and Tris followed him blindly.

  It was well after morning when the two spied the high rising tower from a distance and they worked their way through the maze of trees until they stood at the edge of the forest less than a hundred yards away.

  “You think the soldiers will let us just walk right in?” Tris asked in disbelief.

  “They will,” replied Tanner with confidence as he stepped out from the trees and began walking down into a grass-covered bowl-shaped valley. Eight stood like a massive giant in the center of the dale and the young pair strolled towards it. It was built from huge blocks of granite that were mined from the mountains in the North and reinforced with Beoraki steel and it loomed unconquerable.

  “Stay close,” Tanner said to Tristania. “Hold my hand and don’t say anything.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked the young girl as she dodged his attempt to hold her hand.

  “Don’t stop,” Tanner pleaded as he continued to stare at the pair of soldiers that stood outside the tower’s entrance. “You have to hold my hand so we can appear as one soldier.”

  “What?” Tris asked. “That’s absurd and I’m not holding your hand if you’re doing magic.”

  “Please,” Tanner pleaded, “they are already looking at us and they believe they are seeing a fellow soldier crossing the dale.” Tanner stared at the soldiers with a mask of concentration, his forhead sprouting beads of sweat as he stood frozen with his arm back, reaching for Tris’ hand.

  “Alright,” Tris said grudgingly, and she grabbed Tanner’s hand and began pulling him quickly across the vale towards the tower.

  “Not so fast,” Tanner whispered as he fought to slow down the anxious little girl while continuing to stare at the two men, hoping he was creating the illusion that Mara had taught him.

  *****************

  The two soldiers stood outside the large door of Eight discussing future actions being planned against the advancing Asarian force. They were both veterans to the watchtower and they knew well the dangers that surrounded the vale.

  “Who is that?” asked Torman, a tall thin soldier of middle age. He had a graying short beard and eyes that grew dull with age.

  “I think that’s Bell,” replied Hasner, a man of forty summers and a long-time soldier in the Arani guard. He had served at Eight for five years and was due for rotation in less than a week.

  “What’s he doing out there?” asked Torman, watching as the soldier stood frozen. “Why is he just standing there?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Hasner. “He’s supposed to be on inventory in the stock rooms with Gavers.”

  “Here he comes,” said Torman.

  “Why’s he walking so funny?” Hasner asked, watching Bell walk as if he was being pulled towards them.

  “Is he drunk again?” laughed Torman.

  “Acting like that, I’d say yes,” replied Hasner as Bell came up to them and stopped.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Bell said politely. “I’m going in now because I’m not feeling well, and I think I’m going to be sick.” Bell began to walk towards the large open doorway and Hasner reached out a hand to stop the soldier.

  “I thought you were supposed to be–” and Bell wretched all down the front of his leather armor and onto Hasner’s hand, who immediately retracted his arm and stood back disgusted. Bell just walked off and left the two soldiers cursing in his wake.
>
  He went inside Eight through the large doorway and was greeted by fellow soldiers that were standing guard by the many locking mechanisms for the massive iron door. Bell waved to them and made a few brief comments and then made his way through the maze of connecting rooms and hallways. The first floor of the tower contained supply rooms and a large indoor stable with air ducts and ventilation for the many horses that were kept at Eight. There was also a connecting stable where cows and chickens and other livestock were raised and a large room that contained a deep well with an endless supply of fresh water. The lower armory was also on the first floor and it was stocked with all kinds of weapons made from Beoraki steel.

  Bell eventually gained the stairway and walked casually up several floors until he found one that seemed the best for hiding and he made his way to the very back and crouched down unseen.

  **********************

  Prince Hadias stood anxiously in the hot forest and waited with his elite guard all around him. He wore full battle armor and his long black hair was tied back. Eight towered above the trees in the distance and the dark prince eyed it with disdain.

  A soldier came into the clearing and went down to one knee and waited until he was given permission to speak.

  “What news?” Prince Hadias asked as he looked up at the distant impenetrable fortress. All his plans were coming to fruition and all that was left was the taking of Eight. Hadias did not have the manpower or the time to stage a long siege, so he sat at the mercy of time and waited with his small army as they all hid quietly in the Timberland forest.

  “The Arani force is quite considerable,” the scout reported. “They out-man us more than ten-to-one and will be here shortly.”