Ucal couldn’t judge the marquis’s decision. He didn’t have all the elements to do that and he would never argue with his friend’s sense of responsibility towards the survival of his people. He had learned not to judge long ago, and he wouldn’t do it now. He limited himself to staying loyal to their friendship and to his word, to be of any use he could.
“In any case, you’re still missing two vital elements,” he mentioned.
“The Cumbal itself and a Vetem to use it,” confirmed Var. “The Cumbal is closer than anyone could possibly imagine,” he pronounced. “As for the Vetem, this will be my mission.”
“Selot…” Ucal anticipated. “You know where to find him.”
“I know where to start looking.”
VIII
“Wherever you go, I go,” Flash reminded him once more, with folded arms and a cross face.
“Flash, little one. It’s not possible. It’s not one of our raids. This mission is too dangerous for you. It’s too dangerous for me.”
“Exactly!” Flash squealed. “And you’re thinking of going alone?”
“All men must remain here to defend or else they’re departing for the four corners of the world, to carry the call of the marquis.”
“It’s all nonsense! And you believe it! That’s the worst part. How is it possible that of all those here, there’s not a single one who can go with you?”
“The marquis has faith in me,” Ucal tried to convince him, “I cannot betray his trust.”
“Oh yeah, his trust. But I understand something, even if you adults don’t explain stuff to me. There was a time when you needed him, but he wasn’t there for you. Why do you have to be there for him this time?” Ucal was always surprised at how Flash got straight to the point.
“It wasn’t like that. Var couldn’t give me the help I needed; there’s no blame for that. There would be a sense of guilt though if I didn’t help him now. And besides, these are things that children can’t understand. They’re far more complicated than they appear. I must prove myself to deserve a place with the people of Atiarav.”
“Ah, yeah?” the child pressed. “You really think they consider us their equals? Can’t you see the looks some of them give you when you walk by, or are you completely blind? You’re the strongest of them all and you know more about war than they can even imagine. When they were afraid of Selot, they were only too happy to let you face him. You were in the group that finished off the Hood of Death. You should be a captain. Why aren’t you? Can you answer me this?” Ucal scratched his head, his lips closed tight.
“Well, Flash. You’re right about some things. But I must atone for my being an…outcast. It’s unfair, I know. We know, but it’s useless going back over it. I want to belong to this people and this is the one way I can do it. It doesn’t matter if some of them look down on me, or are impolite, I can bear that. I’ve made a choice that you can’t understand now. I hope one day you’ll be able to understand and forgive me for it.”
“I don’t want you talking like that!” Flash yelled because he didn’t know how to deal with the anger within, and he didn’t know why those words made him so nervous. “Stop it!”
“Yes, I’ll stop it, sorry,” Ucal said, trying to calm him down.
“I’m coming with you,” Flash sulked. Ucal sighed. His discourse had fallen on deaf ears.
“Don’t even mention it.”
“You can’t stop me from coming with you. I’ll come anyway. You might as well use my alliance.” Flash was proud of using such a difficult term.
“Your alliance?” Ucal’s eyes flew wide open. “You are completely mad, I will not involve a snotty-nosed brat in something so serious. Forget it, Go and play, and stop wasting my time.”
“Don’t call me brat!” Flash shouted, again losing his calm. Ucal changed tactic. He nodded to Flash to come forward. When the child was straight in front of him with his defiant air, Ucal crouched down on his haunches to be at his height.
“Beetle bug, I know you are very brave. No one knows that better than me. We’re not talking about a game of hide-and-seek, or running away from an angry shopkeeper because we stole some apples. I need to know you will be far from trouble.”
“You’re the one who is running straight into big trouble. You need me.” Ucal shook his head.
“Don’t be stubborn with me.”
“Nor you with me!” Flash retorted. He was growing up, the warrior had to admit. He’d be a young man soon. He could already see that scowl of an adolescent. He decided to let it go for the moment, allowing the boy’s emotions settle down for the time being.
That same morning, Nora had chosen ten female volunteers and then the dispatch riders departed. Wrapped up inside a hope that seemed ever more slim, families had assembled the few things that remained one more time. The core leaders had worked out which hiding place to lead each family group, and some had already left. Clen and her children had also joined three other families that made up their core group. Their leader however, would not be Var. Her husband had confided to her that he too must leave for a very delicate mission. Her group would be led by Delan, a strong man with great skill, who had fought with Var in war many years earlier. He had a gray beard, good military instinct and a ton of experience. Var trusted the man well enough to leave his family with him. Var hugged his children and gave them counsel. He sweetly said goodbye to Clen. He made sure he kept his spirit light.
“I’m going to get that Vetem back,” he said, smiling. Clen kissed him and said:
“God has sent us exceptional people to help us. It can’t be by chance. They are his outstretched hand towards us.” Her certainty and the stillness of her look was what he needed.
Towards evening, all of the family groups had departed. The plain which had, for a short time, been transformed into a building site, was now deserted. Var had a stabbing pain of nostalgia. The only ones who remained were Nora, Bal and Baxel, who made up the communications group, and Ucal and Flash. The child had invariably refused to go with the others. He was rummaging through thorns now, searching for berries to eat. The communications group was deciding on operational details; they sat on a bench built a few days earlier from the trunk of a fallen tree. Var nodded to Ucal. They arranged two stones nearby. On the ground, the marquis drew every useful feature of the governor’s palace in Solzhaz: the underground access routes which housed prisoners too, the development of the maze of passages, the elements that could guide him through so he wouldn’t get lost, the layout and the rules of sentry service. He described the crypt that kept the stone Stele, resembling another two underground chambers built purposefully so they would deter and confuse potential, careless smugglers. He warned him of hidden traps from epochs long ago, put there to eliminate whoever tried to approach the slab without having the right to do so. Ucal listened to every explanation attentively, imprinting every detail into his mind. He asked many questions, made Var repeat several passages, and asked for confirmation on other points until he felt completely sure he had understood everything. Now he had every factor to help him evaluate the assignment. It was even worse than he figured out earlier in the evening. Ucal avoided telling Var that they were talking about the most absurd hazard he’d ever had to face. They both knew it. Var kept quiet, knowing just how much he’d asked of his friend. He watched Ucal as he elaborated the information received. He guessed by the expression on his wrinkled forehead that he had already started formulating the information into a plan of action. He was conceiving how he might get close and how to avoid the guards. How to get into the palace. His mind was already at work. The warrior had practically left for the mission, and he wouldn’t stop until it was finished one way or the other. Var left him to ruminate in silence. Then he watched as the expression on Ucal’s face slowly relaxed. Var imagined that he had terminated the plan of action in his head. Ucal smiled. It was a sour smile, but serene. He took out a pouch that he wore on his belt, and threw it at Var who grabbed it in flight.
; “My friend,” Ucal began, “I believe I know how to get you that stele, but you need to keep these.” Var did not understand. He opened the heavy pouch and was dazzled by its contents: diamonds of various, unimaginable dimensions, sparkling rubies, topazes, jades, beryl, sapphires, all perfectly cut. All very pure. A treasure of enormous value. For one of the very few times in his life, Var was left speechless.
“What the devil, Ucal!” Have you always had this fortune in your hands and… you’ve stayed with us the whole time? With me? You risked your life so often when you could have…”
Ucal’s expression hardened.
“It’s about time you stopped thinking of me once and for all as a mercenary.” He wanted to be angry when he said it, but it only came out as a bit harsh. That cumbersome and prickly night stood between them: the dreadful night where Ucal had asked for asylum from Atiarav, but instead received a closed door in his face and was treated like a dog.
Ucal wiped his brow as if he were relieving fatigue; he looked for words, choosing ones that a warrior could say to a friend without hurting him.
“I hoped I’d earned your esteem by now, at least over this last period.”
Var lowered his head. Time had come to clear the air. It was obvious that Ucal’s words wanted an answer, some kind of explanation. The young warrior had put it politely when he said, at least over this last period: those months when he’d fought like mad for him and his people, paying no heed to dangers and unease, despite that night a few years earlier. Var couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Ucal, that night I…” He stopped. He gulped at the displeasure he’d had weighing on his heart for so long. “I believed what they said about you. I gave merit to those malicious rumors,” he said softly. Ucal held his breath and judgment. Var went on. “I remember every minute. I was sitting in my delegation room in Avascen. One of my captains came to me to tell me a foreign man by your name had come to speak to me. I denied you the opportunity. I didn’t even want to hear you out.”
Ucal kept quiet, not looking at Var so he wouldn’t be embarrassed.
“I had a letter in my hand. A damned letter from the Commander in charge of the garrison in the north. An order for all the governors of the Kingdom of Dar. The orders were to imprison and deliver you up to the army in case you were located. They threatened retaliation against any city that dared give you refuge, or even hide you. I was afraid for my people and I betrayed your friendship.” Var closed his eyes. He held his breath because he was about to confess something that ashamed him deeply. “I didn’t have you imprisoned. I let you get away undisturbed, thinking that I’d done enough for an…”
“an outcast mercenary,” Ucal finished the sentence for him, his words filled with pain. Var covered his eyes with one hand. “A mercenary, yes,” he confirmed. “A man without a home and without origins. I wouldn’t put my people at risk for a man without emblems, and of uncertain birth. That’s what I thought. That’s what I chose.”
“Would you have done the same thing, had I been a citizen of Atiarav?”
Var opened his eyes, reddened by the cries he withheld.
“No,” he fully confessed. “I would have listened to you because your citizenship would be worth more than a royal order.”
“While my loyalty was simply not enough. Saving your life in battle. My blood and years of service was not enough. Not even for having the dignity to be listened to before being thrown out like a dog. There’s no flag for me that tells the world who I was born to and under what emblem.”
“I committed a grave error,” admitted Var with his hands over his face once more.
Ucal felt very alone. Nothing else, just simply alone. He wasn’t offended and he wasn’t angry. He didn’t feel the desire to meditate on Var’s confession as he had dreamed in the past. He didn’t have the desire to vindicate or redeem. It was all in the past now. He’d already won, even if nobody knew it. There was nothing more worth suffering for. That terrible night, and the desperation that had crushed his heart, disappeared like ashes blown in the wind. That was how the words that came out of his mouth were serene and truthful.
“No, Var. To govern is a heavy responsibility. No one can judge how you reacted. Least of all me. I knew that same night. I didn’t leave immediately. Evading your guards wasn’t difficult,” he smiled and shrugged. “I climbed up to your window. I saw you there in your comfortable, cozy hall, sitting in the warm light of the fire. There was a terrible storm outside. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” Var whispered.
“You were wearing an elegant blue jacket with gold trim. You were facing the fire. Clen was pregnant with child and she leaned over you to give you a kiss. She’d brought you a glass of spiced wine. I envied you, I could have cursed you. Then I thought of the weight you were carrying.” Var remained in stony silence.
Ucal felt as if he had come to the end of a mission. Safe, but empty. He had hoped for so long that Var would have the courage to one day tell him how it had been that night. That day had come. It was like winning his own personal flag, one that no family or nation could give him when he was born. He took hold of the flag and folded it neatly into a corner of his heart.
“Well, why did you come to my aid? Why have you stayed with me all this time?”
Ucal was a warrior. He responded to each question as frankly and precisely as possible.
“To make you change your mind.”
“I have changed my mind,” Var said with the same frankness. At that point, Ucal stood up.
“Those stones belong to Flash. We stole them together and he is my only ‘heir’,” he said with his usual sardonic tone, as if Var had said nothing at all.
“He will come with me. Then he’ll return with the Stele. Have men waiting along the road from Solzhaz over the next few days, so they can pick him and the Stele up safely.” Var read into what Ucal had not said.
“What does that mean?”
“Just what I said obviously,” Ucal replied. “I expect you will not deny what belongs to Flash,” he added strictly.
“You have my word.”
“That is enough. I’ll bid you farewell here, Var, Marquis of Atiarav.”
Var gulped. He knew a goodbye when he heard one. His friend had decided to get the Stele back, but then he would be gone forever.
“I salute you Ucal, citizen of Atiarav.” With those words he had given him a home. Ucal bowed.
“Where will you go after this? Now that you are one of us…” Ucal smiled.
“The world is a big place.” It wasn’t the reply of a warrior. Var should have understood what he was hiding, but his easygoing attitude put him off track. He believed that Ucal had absolved the marquis’s guilt, but not the betrayal of a friend, and for that reason he was leaving.
The night was only halfway through when Ucal went to pick up Flash.
“Hey, beetle bug…” Flash awoke immediately.
“You’re coming with me if you feel up to it.”
“Yippppeeeee!” the child burst out with joy. He leaped onto his feet and did two backward somersaults out of happiness. With an amused smile, Ucal overlooked the fact that this would be their last adventure together. An icy lake crept into his heart. He had thought out two possible plans for the mission Var had given him. One had an uncertain outcome, but it would at least give him hope of survival. The second one had a sure outcome, without a doubt he would be able to carry out the mission successfully, but with his foreseeable and probable death. He’d chosen the second, so that his homeland would have the Stele and with it, a chance. Flash would soon be the richest and saddest child in the world. His sadness would one day end. And he would grow up with people who had already adopted him. Var had the intelligence, the skills and the iron will necessary to help Atiarav survive. The flag which Ucal had conquered the night before would be the one that Flash would use to live in dignity; a man who belonged to a community. The solitude for which he had fought his entire life was now complete. His time to
die had come.
IX
When Var woke up, two hours before dawn, Ucal and Flash had already departed and the dew had covered their footsteps. Var stared at the puddle traces left on the ground. There was no time for weakness. It was the hardest moment in the history of his people.
He looked at the deserted plain in the nocturnal light; his people had been there for such a short time. The city of the marquisate had been reduced to ashes and its people were displaced now that he had sent them into hiding, in the mountains. They had nothing left. So few things left from their long months in exile, and a faint hope like the light of a faraway star. He had to believe he could save them.
He set off with very few items and his sword strapped to his back so his pace wouldn’t be hampered. He had a course in mind that cut across all tracks, passing over all four crossings. Running through the mountains would be faster than any horse on the slow and uncertain mule trails up high. He would have to call upon all of his physical resistance; it would mean running over very rugged terrain for three days without stopping. He began running with his heart in his throat, pushing the desperation that risked overwhelming him into a corner of his heart. He ran at full speed without paying attention to his breathing or his muscles, willing them not to stop, not to give up. He pictured the meeting with the Uicics. He knew that mysterious people were completely indifferent to the fate of mankind. He shouldn’t even be begging for help for his people, let alone threaten them as he was prepared to do if need be. It probably wouldn’t do him good anyway. He would have to create a condition that would force their hand to act in such a way that he required. He would have to do it in such a way that would make them feel like they needed to give Selot back to him. He thought incessantly as he ran, exploring every possible opportunity. He finally figured out a tactic. He would have to play his last card, and well too. He would stand before their Vetems, and he would need to hide the truth behind a veil of intrigue. He would have to force his thoughts to live the lie, until he believed it fully himself, so it would be perceived as real to the Vetems too. The training he had received as firstborn Marquis of Atiarav would be indispensable. He hoped he would have the necessary capabilities. He’d never had to put them to use. Everything at that moment was based tremendously on chance. The destiny of his people was founded on a series of terrible uncertainties and of thin possibilities. Running helped him rid himself of the anxiety and urgency. He ran swiftly, setting goals for himself: the next tree, the next shrub, the next boulder, the next hollow. And after reaching each finish line, he kept on running fast. He blocked his body from thinking it would have to run for three days and three nights straight.
The Creed Page 20
