The Creed

by Perla Giannotti

  Prasheema stepped forward, smiling. She spoke to both of them.

  “When the Xàmvetem captured me, I hoped Sabre would come back to save me, but your father and I made a pact. In this game, I am the one who is sacrificial. Sabre has kept true to the agreement and no one knows how much it has cost him. Yellow Eye extorted the contents of our pact from me...by his methods. That is how he knew Sabre would not come back for me, whatever my fate might have become. So, he decided to use me to get to you, because you were much easier to manipulate within the Council. I was the bait for you. You, for your father.” Selot was left breathless. Marrhit nodded gloomily. Now, things made sense. It looked like things were much worse than he could have imagined, unfortunately. He exchanged a deadly look with Selot. The corrupt flank of the Council had deliberately pushed them into Yellow Eye's clutches to get to Sabre.

  They started their march again and Kurt went back to chatting.

  They reached Saus by mid-morning.

  They were greeted by an explosion of happiness. Word ran through the entire settlement. Preparations were immediately underway for the celebrations. The Sages gave the order that the festivities be brief and sober. Marrhit disappeared for many hours. The contemporary absence of the girl who he'd been with two nights earlier, left no room for doubt as to how they were spending their time.

  Selot asked for permission to go bathe at the thermal baths. He washed his own clothes and those of Marrhit, so he too could get dressed for the celebration when he returned. When the clothes were dry, he folded them carefully. His mother, Prasheema, had been summoned by the Sages and was questioned by them for many hours. For some reason he couldn't identify, he felt sad. He withdrew to the same platform his brother had sheltered to read his father's letter. It was to the eastern borders of the settlement, half an hour away from the platforms of the communal kitchens and sleeping quarters. It was an outpost for the sentries, narrow and dizzying. There was a rope with knots tied at regular intervals in order to climb up. He carried his clothes and weapons, and Marrhit's too, which his brother had left in his safekeeping.

  He'd cleaned and sharpened all the weapons. He'd re-cleaned the casings and had gone over them all with wax. He was now re-cleaning Marrhit's boots before he came back.

  Gules joined him.

  “You're a very interesting young man.” Selot was pale and he did his best to stay wide awake as sleep overcame his weary eyes. Gules noticed his injured arm, for which he'd not asked to cure. He'd re-cleaned it in the water and he'd medicated and wrapped it on his own. Asheeba's teachings were sufficient for that wound and the one on his temple. The others were little more than scratches. He interrupted his work and stood up out of respect.

  “You have not conceded yourself a few hours of rest. And yet, you have had a...complicated night. We have all caught up on our sleep.”

  “It doesn't feel right to sleep during the day,” Selot justified himself, “no matter what the night, or those before it, might have held. No matter how tired one might feel.”

  “Is that one of the rules at Affradatis?”

  “Yes...”

  “I see. Now, if you wish, you may change it.”

  “I wish to wait for my mother's return from her meeting with the Sages. It would be unacceptably rude of me if I didn't,” he broke off for a second. “And I must wait for Marrhit. I must...I have things I must tell him and I would like to be wide awake when he gets back.”

  “Everyone will gather for the celebratory dinner an hour before sunset, on the platforms on the fourth level...Try to get some sleep, at least a little.” Kind words for him. Selot was touched.

  “I thank you, Gules. Thank you for your friendship.” The old man shook his head and went away. Selot went back to work.

  When Marrhit reemerged from his sleep and lovemaking with the Rotmandi woman, he found Selot asleep, hunched over his boots, in a twisted and uncomfortable position, with a rag in hand. The sleeve of his clothing streaked with blood from his arm, continued to ooze through the bandage. He saw what Selot had prepared for him: clean, folded clothes, perfectly polished, shiny weapons placed in their newly-waxed casings, and boots he had just finished shining; who knew why he still had that rag in his hand. They were already perfect. There was the flask with his medicine and a bigger one with the root broth. Everything prepared with such careful attention. He sat down cross-legged next to him, on the wooden partition of the platform. Marrhit's presence woke him immediately. Selot took a few moments to focus his sight.

  “Marrhit...” he said, realizing he'd fallen asleep. He sat upright. He passed his hands over his eyes in order to remove the tiredness cast over them. Marrhit seemed to be waiting for something. Selot felt it was his responsibility to begin. No beating around the bush. He bowed his head.

  “I reacted impulsively, without reflecting, putting your life at risk, and as a result that of...your father too.” He preferred referring to Sabre as Marrhit's father only, so he wouldn't claim the right to call him his own. “I didn't take into consideration all of the possible outcomes. I was only thinking about saving my mother.” He didn't know how to go on. Marrhit clenched his jaw.

  “It was a very serious error,” he could do nothing but confirm it. “A serious error that we committed together. The greater blame is my own. Unlike you, my judgment was not clouded by sentiment. I should have a clearer vision. I should have punched your lights out.” Selot held his breath and lifted his head. Marrhit continued.

  “Your mother is free, and we are alive. We have eliminated three-quarters of the praetorian guards. The thing I find hardest to swallow is that we wouldn't be here without the intervention of a slapdash group of men led by an unbearable prattler, and a pack of wolves.” He'd used an almost ironic tone, but a moment later his expression hardened. “We had a lot of information and we didn't evaluate it correctly.”

  “Now, he'll make sure we pay,” Selot observed.

  “Yes. This crazy lot think about celebrating, while I would be looking for a way to hide and defend myself. Yellow Eye will already be reorganizing his most violent offensive.” He stood up to go over and sit on the edge facing west, so he could reflect. He observed the impressive backdrop of the immense plain, of the mountains that encircled it to the west and south, of the legions spread out in front of the forest. He looked long and hard, in silence.

  “Selot?” he finally called.

  “Here I am,” Selot said, nearing him.

  “I must decide what I want to do with my life. I need you. You're much better than me at these...type of things.” Marrhit always got straight to the point. He never justified himself. He never went over the past. In that moment, Selot was having difficulty in connecting the vision he had of Marrhit fighting Yellow Eye like a lion, Marrhit who had hated and tormented him mercilessly for months, and who now asked quite naturally for help in deciding what he should do with his life. This was one of those times he could serve him best, as far as he was able. He thought it would be right to listen for the time being. He knelt down next to him, on those dizzying heights of the platform. Marrhit knew he could trust him.

  “The Council is full of vipers. They sent us here to this massacre, to their own advantage. If we had killed Yellow Eye and his leader, they would have fewer adversaries to fear. If Yellow Eye had captured us, it would have meant the elimination of our father, who is considered their adversary just like the others, perhaps even more fearful because he is faithful to the original Xàmvetem mandate. I believe our father is hiding, with the intention of eventually facing all this madness. Janavel was expelled from the Council. I think it was because of you, but I believe it was also because he realized there was something wrong within it. He is in danger, as much as we are, and our father too. Perhaps he still has something to tell us.” Marrhit was trying to reconstruct a logical thread of events and he he felt the need for guidance.

  “In any case, he is not here for us. Just like Sabre is not here,” Selot observed pragmatically. “If
it is of any help to you, we can speak to Prasheema if you like. Sabre wrote this to you: he trusts her for the clear vision she has of things.” Marrhit clenched his jaw and turned his head away. It was a great suggestion, but it was not the right road for his brother. Selot abandoned the idea right away.

  “Forgive me if I have offended you.”

  “I want to get away from here. You will remain to help this people. You are part of them. Your mother is here. Or maybe you will fly to rescue your friend in Solzhaz. I, on the other hand, have no reason to stay...there are still two more moons left until the equinox, the day I can meet my father. I want to stay on my own until then. And yet, I know we should not separate from one another. We are weaker, divided.” A strategic consideration which might have cost him dearly.

  “May I ask where you will go?”

  “I might go back to the Urds. They are family to me. I know their haunts. I would find them quickly.”

  “A decision to make you feel at home then?”

  “Yes...”

  “Only that?”

  “I'm afraid so,” Marrhit admitted.

  “And what if we were to return to the Valley?” suggested Selot, only so they could explore every possibility.

  “Lying to the Council. Double-crossing them...” Marrhit said, trying to develop a line of reason.

  “Yes.”

  “With the next orders they give us, we could understand how they intend on moving.”

  “We could.”

  Marrhit weighed up the idea. Then he shook his head.

  “I must first meet with Sabre, so I can get the full picture. I want to disappear until then. It could be dangerous to go back now,” he finally concluded. “I have no reason to defend this people, nor anyone else. I have motives for killing, if I don't first work out what's going on.”

  “No one to go back to?” Marrhit thought it over. His Uicic woman. He realized however, she was not a priority. He admitted he had the same weight around his neck with the Rotmandi woman whom he had shared all but two moments of love. He shook his head once more. As predicted, there was no sense of guilt or shame, and not even embarrassment. Selot was certain by now, that nature had not bestowed upon Marrhit the ability to have that type of sentiment. In a certain light, this rendered relationships with him much simpler; they saved him time and those continual attempts at love, often in vain, to understand what the true objective of a person actually is. There was only one thing missing.

  “What would you like me to do?” Selot asked.

  Marrhit snorted. “You're such a pain.”

  “You've already told me that, many times. You just told me we are weaker when divided. What did you have in mind?”

  “Of the hunt Yellow Eye will subject us to. And maybe the corrupt Vetems in the Council too.”

  “Separating might make it more difficult for them to find us. They would have to open at least two search fronts.” Marrhit shook his shoulders as if Selot had said something foolish.

  “It would be a strategy to undertake if their were fifty of us, but it's just us two. And besides, finding you is very easy: you will be here, or in Solzhaz saving your daft friend; or on the mountains of Eizco next to your pig-headed marquis.”

  “I am predictable.”

  “Damned predictable. That's what happens to those who take something to heart.” His voice held no scorn. It was only a consternation. Then he wrinkled his brow.

  “While I was combating Yellow Eye, I felt a type of...chasm. I was like a tiny ant in front of an abyss. In that chasm, even the strongest of us, Janavel or my father, or you could precipitate into it. If he were to find you, and you were by any chance alone, you would be lost without any hope of escape...” Selot did not comment. He feared his brother would realize he had expressed worry for him, even if it was hidden behind martial strategy. That was when Selot understood. Marrhit saw that it was to their best advantage to stay united, but this left him taken aback. The Council mandate had failed, and so there was no longer the imposed rapport of knight and shield, or knight and shield-bearer. Marrhit acted upon military planning. He no longer had authority to order them to remain united, and he didn't know how to ask him. So Selot did it for him.

  “If we let the Congregation have free reign, they will wipe everyone out. The Rotmandis, the Marquisate of Atiarav, us, and all those who remain true to the original intentions of the Council. They will hunt Sabre down relentlessly and they will take possession of the Kingdom of Dar. Humanity will precipitate into an endless nightmare. You cannot disappear until the equinox. Time is on their side. You are right. I am predictable, and limited, with only half my training done. I am a hybrid, a Vetem who is only half complete. That's why I am unable to help this people, nor any others, without your help. Whatever disagreement we might have before the equinox, it would still be better than leaving them without any kind of resistance. If you think it right, if you will allow it, I will stay by your side, just like I've done up to now. As shield and shield-bearer.” To underline his words, he took hold of what he had prepared for Marrhit, clothes, weapons, medicine, and with decisive gestures, lined them up into order. Then he sat down once more and looked at his brother resolutely. Marrhit was undecided, which was an unusual situation for him. Then, he opened his arms wide. And Selot grabbed hold of him and held him with as much strength as he could muster.

  “Baìah!” they said in unison. So the duo was knit together, and reinforced by the liberal choice of both.

  Selot raised his eyes to the sky. There were three hours left until dinner. He would make the most of it and get some sleep. Marrhit took the clean clothes and got changed.

  It was at that moment the sound of a very sweet and happy music rose up, which drew their attention immediately. On the platforms on the fourth level, the Rotmandis had begun the preparations for their celebration. The music was entrancing and irresistible. It was a wonderful harmony of wind and string instruments. For a few instants they lost themselves behind its musical magic, and then their warrior instincts kicked in.

  “The Sages said celebrations were to be sober...” Selot was already alarmed.

  “They've all gone mad!” Marrhit shouted. It will lead the soldiers straight to us, the music is loud and if we can hear it this well from up here, it means you can hear it for miles!” They seized their weapons, donning them in a fraction of a second. They went at full speed over the ropes, the ladders and the balconies. They flew over bridges, hardly touching the joining platforms, as they jumped from one to the other without using the gangways so they wouldn't be slowed down; they climbed up trees to make shortcuts. They realized the music had an insistent, hypnotic rhythm and that it could be heard distinctly in every direction. They must have placed themselves in the best point to be heard from every recess of the forest. They couldn't possibly be that stupid! They had to move quickly. The music increased in intensity with every beat, but it wasn't only because they were nearing them. The center of the settlement was still at a distance, and yet the volume was so loud it felt like they were right there; they covered the distance in half the time. They arrived in a fury. Almost everyone was playing, perfectly in tune with one another, possibly using all the instruments found in the village. Whoever wasn't playing, was singing in harmony to the music, in a perfectly synchronized chorus. Even Kurt's wolf-men were playing, though it was possible they had never held a musical instrument in their hands in their entire lives.

  They yelled for them to cease immediately, but no one heeded them. Marrhit tore flutes and harmonicas from the entranced Rotmandis, but they snatched them back and went on playing.

  “Damn it, they are under its spell!” shouted Marrhit.

  Prasheema was also pleading with her townsfolk to stop, as well as Gules and a few others who seemed to be the only mentally sane ones. Selot went to him. “What is happening? Why won't they stop playing? Have they gone mad? They will draw the entire army here!”

  “We did not protect ourselves well enough
when we neared the encampment. Kurt's men started it. They penetrated the military camp to free you last night. They probably came into contact with the Xàmvetem, who could have canceled their memories. The music they are making is unknown to us; after they started it, the others followed suit, drifting into these notes and before you know it, everyone started playing and singing as if under a spell. I have tried to resist it.” Marrhit and Selot began destroying the instruments, smashing them against tree trunks. Prasheema and a few others who had been able to resist the charm of that damned music, helped them. Men and Rotmandis were spread out over the platforms, and moved in a trance. The music was deafening.

  “We won't even be able to tell if they come upon us!” Selot screamed. “They will reach us without warning!”

  Marrhit screamed out of frustration. “Yellow Eye will have dispersed troops throughout the forest, the first ones will arrive any minute. While we were sleeping and resting like perfect imbeciles!”

  Selot and Marrhit kept on wrecking the instruments, but the people who were left without, started singing. The brothers finally stopped. It was useless to go on. They looked at one another with dread in their heart. They had failed. Their liberation and that of Prasheema, was a trap. Yellow Eye had surpassed them in tactical intelligence. He had taken advantage of their liberation as a means of putting his definitive offensive against the Rotmandis to work. He hadn't even used his Xàmvetem abilities on them. His astuteness was enough. They thought they had escaped a trap, with the fortuitous intervention of the wolves and Deserters, only to realize they had fallen into the ultimate one. It had been fatal. Yellow Eye had toyed with them like a cat with mice. They realized in that instant, it was too late for any type of defense. Hundreds of people were playing and singing on all of the upper levels of the city. The music had gone on for far too long. They would be discovered now. “Marrhit,” Selot screamed to make himself heard over the din of the music. “Yellow Eye is searching for us. To finish off Sabre...” Marrhit nodded.