The Creed

by Perla Giannotti

  “It's not necessary,” Marrhit interrupted.

  “Selot and I are enough. We will gather this information, what I mean is, from the source. Maintain your men for defense. We'll be back in five days.” Var wavered. He'd have to fall back on them for vital information. Could he trust them? Marrhit saw his doubt and was infuriated.

  “You dare doubt us, after all this?”

  Var looked at Selot. His face was so grave and hardened after that night. He was ashamed of himself. “No,” he said at that point, “no doubt.”

  “We'll leave immediately,” Marrhit decided. He stopped for a second. “Ucal could be useful.”

  “I'll call for him,” said Var.

  Ucal came very well armed. A mission with two Vetems. He'd have something amazing to tell the grand kids when he was an old man. If he'd ever have the chance of growing old.

  They were assigned three horses and given rations for a full day. Var wanted Selot to talk to him, for him to say anything. He had instead, retreated behind an insurMountable barrier.

  “Selot...” he asked, not knowing how to go on. The young Vetem turned in his direction.

  “Marquis,” he said, a resolute countenance on his face. “We will preserve this people, let them be free and in peace. As it should be. We will forge ahead, at whatever cost.” He was on the first step of the Stele. Var knew it from the oral traditions of his family.

  “Free and in peace,” Var replied. “God bless you, Vetem.”

  The three spurred their horses on and galloped towards the Solzhaz plain. Ucal, at the age of twenty-six, was the oldest of the group and for that reason he was at the head.

  XVIII

  “Where to?” asked Ucal when they had run a few miles towards the valley.

  “To the general headquarters of the army. We must find out more on the Emissary who is now guiding the offensive against you,” Marrhit replied dryly. His answer sounded so absurd and at the same time given with such tranquility, that it rendered it even more surreal.

  “You mean inside the general headquarters?” asked Ucal, fearing he might not have understood.

  “Yes,” Marrhit replied laconically.

  “The fact that there's an entire army in the mix, does not interest you?” asked Ucal in an attempt to round up courage.

  “Let's assume there will be a few difficulties,” conceded the Vetem. He turned and looked at him. He gained easy access to his mind, since Ucal did not know anything about Vetems in general, much less about how to defend himself against their power. He knew nothing about their species. Marrhit saw spirit and attitudes very fitting for a warrior.

  “I'd like to carry out an experiment on you,” he said, weighing him up. Ucal stared at him, quite worried.

  Before evening, they reached the level of a rise from which an amazing view of the plain opened up. The terrible spectacle of the army entrenched there, inflamed the three warriors' excitement for battle. Selot made the most of that excitement to keep the rite and Affradatis far from his mind.

  “We could act now; the night would be to our advantage,” he said.

  “Not tonight,” Marrhit answered, “you were up all night last night, with a very serious matter on your mind. You wouldn't be able to,” he told his brother in Uicic, so Ucal wouldn't be in on the conversation.

  “It won't be the first sleepless night I've been through,” Selot objected.

  “Don't disobey my orders,” Marrhit cut him off. He went back to speaking in the Dar language, with his very unusual accent.

  “Now we train,” he said. “Selot, you challenge Ucal. I need to see this man's way of fighting. Use your twin swords, the favored weapons of you both.” Selot and Ucal took out their blades, wrapped them in leather to render them inoffensive. The outcome was inevitable. Selot repeatedly defeated Ucal with ease. There was nothing else the warrior could do except take on his blows, the flat side of Selot's blade hit every part of his body and he found himself unarmed without fail. Selot anticipated his every move with his Vetem abilities, and he was incomparably faster, stronger and more strategic. He did no harm, stopping as soon as he got through his friend's guard and he did not strike. He controlled the blows and when they made it through Ucal, they were innocuous. It was hardly training for him. Nothing of the sort had ever happened to Ucal in his life. He'd been considered a semi-god when he was in the military. Now, he felt like a child. He was disconcerted. The scar on the face of the young Vetem ran from his eye down to his jaw, and he himself had put it there as a warning, the year before. He couldn't believe that little monk was now the warrior who was making play out of him as if it were nothing. Marrhit stood up and took out his two swords. He stood next to Ucal.

  “Well,” said Selot, winking, “now the balance just changed.” For an instant he feared Marrhit would do something crazy. Something like hurting him gravely so he wouldn't be able to go to Affradatis. He hadn't covered his blades and he was looking at him grimly.

  “Ucal,” Marrhit began, “now let us fight together against Selot. I am your back up, I'll support you when Selot is about to get the better of you...which is to say quite often from what I see. I'll defend, you attack. Is that clear?” Ucal nodded.

  Selot began by bringing anything but vehemence to his attacks on his two adversaries, demonstrating to Ucal the level of fighting a Xàmvetem could reach. Marrhit was there to defend his warrior friend and he did not fear for him. He kept to his standard level of a normal training session. Ucal was upset in seeing their abilities.

  “Don't play, Selot,” Marrhit picked on him. “We are your enemies.” His brother met the challenge and lifted the threshold of his attack. In the encounter of one against two, the swords, even though covered, could have been lethal if only by the violence with which they struck. Marrhit kept himself limited to blocking the strikes. Ucal attempted to get through Selot's guard, but even with Marrhit's support in defense, he wasn't able to. He was very free as he attacked; every one of Selot's offensives was blocked by Marrhit, and yet, any move he made was too slow and too predictable; he found Selot's sword on the same path as his, or else the outline of the Vetem was not where he expected him to be. Then Marrhit grabbed Ucal in the spirit of Baìah. Selot perceived it straight away and understood the aim of the experiment . Ucal was aware of something he wasn't immediately conscious of. His perception changed significantly when he felt Marrhit's body move and he 'knew' what his move would be; through this he was able to foresee the moves Selot would make. He'd never before experienced such a level of perfect concentration, such a clear vision of what was happening around him. Through Marrhit, his view of the world had increased in a considerable way. He also felt stronger in his arms and legs, a strange warmth in his chest, a slight pressure on his forehead, cold but pleasant. He finally saw Selot's guard down and he struck. He controlled the power of the blow, to do no harm, but Marrhit's voice gave an order.

  “With all your strength. He is your enemy,” Ucal lost all reason and struck as if he were in war. Selot was blocking, but Marrhit's sword stopped him. He received the full blow of Ucal's sword straight to the chest. Despite the leather protection, the blow penetrated and wounded him, making him fall back by about two paces.

  Marrhit gave the signal to cease.

  Ucal halted, with worry on his face. How could he have been so thoughtless in regards to Selot's well-being? He had seen his brother was hindering Selot's guard in order to defend himself, quite well, and yet Ucal had struck anyway with so much force.

  “Selot, I am mortified, I...”

  “It's not your fault,” Selot spluttered, as he regained his composure. “Marrhit's voice commanded you...one of his best tricks. Don't be distressed.” Ucal was horrified. “What?”

  “Yes, my friend. Marrhit can take control of people with his voice. This was one of his kinder demonstrations on me. He is always so considerate...”

  Ucal was confused.

  “What was that...I don't know what to call it. I felt as if I were ano
ther, having intuitions that were not mine...and then I understood what I was to do, it was all so natural and...the force...” Marrhit nodded and grimaced. “Baìah,” he answered. “Being a sole warrior. We have just discovered it works with men too. You are rigid and slow, but you possess the spontaneity to unite your spirit to ours. We will fight like that when necessary.”

  Ucal was rendered dumb. It had been the most vivid sensation, the most exhilarating and fantastic thing he'd ever experienced. Then, as was his nature, he considered all the aspects of what that meant in battle, and the problems that arose. He reasoned:

  “I am the weakest link in the chain...”

  “Yes. The spirit of Baìah knows how to take that into consideration. Though, if you were to be a burden rather than an advantage, I will have to let you go and you will be on your own. This is the pact.”

  They ate. Marrhit gave them his time. “Tomorrow we will patrol to see how the troops are posted and what type of defense they have prepared on the edges of the encampments. We must learn how their defenses work, how many sentinels there are, how often they carry out the changing of the guard; everything that is useful to know in order to penetrate the camp. We cannot see from here, but I am certain that, in this case too, the quarters of their General will be protected by the praetorian guards. We must find out how many there are, and how they are organized. We will act tomorrow night.” Selot and Ucal nodded.

  “Ucal,” he finally said, “you and I will take turns on guard. Selot must rest.”

  Selot stopped chewing out of surprise. He looked at him. His brother spoke to him in Uicic.

  “This night you took the decision to assist Var, accepting to submit yourself to that...rite. You have already worked out a plan needed to begin your preparations. You have not only studied, but you have also evoked the sensations vital to examine your ability to resist and survive the challenge. You are worn down.” Selot blinked. His brother was right. It was enough for his powers of observation to understand every single thing. Marrhit clenched his jaw. Then he went on.

  “It is obvious by your exhaustion this morning; so much more than a simple sleepless night. It was visible during this exercise too. You could have blocked Ucal's strike with your other sword. Your reflexes have slowed down. I needed to test them to be certain. You must recuperate your strength. Or you will not be of any use.” And once more, Selot had the proof of Marrhit's ability to rightly judge the situation.

  “Keep the option of using the Cumbal as a last resort. We can help this people in a different way,” his brother ended.

  “We'll try,” Selot replied, dryly. “But keep in mind, Var intends on avoiding war. Any alternative to war would be preferable. If the only way to have a war is to use that damned thing, then I cannot turn back. I have the chance to avoid a massacre of war, a sea of pain for hundreds, mothers' cries and children's tears. How could I face Prasheema, or Estela, if I don't do this? What sort of person would I be?”

  “Well, I'll find an alternative that your damned marquis wants!” Marrhit shouted, suddenly out of his mind. He threw his biggest sword against a non-existing enemy with all his might. He went over to a young tree and made it explode, splitting it in two. Ucal stood stock still without breathing. That Vetem had the strength of a hurricane and he had to confess he'd finally found something in this world that instilled fear into him.

  Selot knew this outburst was a reaction to his frustration. Marrhit wanted to respect his decision, but at the same time, he wanted to stop him from using the Cumbal, so Selot wouldn't have to face the necessary challenge of using it. Flash had seen right. There was an angel on the earth.

  “If only we knew where Sabre and Janavel were,” Marrhit went on, “with them, the game would be over. We would flush out everyone of those wretches, right up to the last one, and we would head off all the wars in the kingdom. We would go straight to the throne of King Lotar II and we would force him to make a pact and cease any military action.” He kicked and punched at the empty air, and started throwing whatever came to hand, tree trunks, boulders, bags, and saddles. Selot gave him time to calm down.

  “Even if we knew where they were, we wouldn't have time to warn them...” he said after a while. A useless observation. It was obvious.

  Marrhit did not reply. He decided to distance himself and think. He couldn't think with all these distractions around him. He came back when it was fully dark. Ucal and Selot had lit a fire and were retelling stories of the adventures they'd had over the last year. As always in these cases, the tale had taken on the carefree attitude of things already lived and overcome together. Marrhit kept himself closed off and taciturn. Then he wrapped himself up in his cloak and proceeded to take first watch.

  Selot awoke before dawn broke. Marrhit was sleeping. Ucal had taken his place on watch, and at that moment, was looking in the direction of the infinite plain that stretched out under the promontory where they were. He sat down next to him. Ucal turned to look at him.

  “You're in trouble, Selot.”

  The boy nodded.

  “They have put you in it. I do not envy you.”

  “There truly is nothing to envy...and believe me, it is even more complicated than it seems.”

  “Is that demon really your brother?” Selot twisted his mouth. Then shrugged his shoulders.

  “On our father's side, yes.”

  “How did you manage to convince him to take our side?”

  “He's definitely not on your side. He only made the decision, but he keeps his reasons to himself. He could change his mind again this morning when he wakes up. He has no fixed star. He answers to nothing and no one.”

  “He sounds dangerous.”

  “He is. Very.”

  “He's helping us gather information that Var needs.”

  “That's because he is interested too. It's important for us too. We are in the wheels of a complicated machine. The more information we have, the better the chance we have of surviving. His survival, at least.”

  Ucal looked toward the horizon to the east. A very faint light hinted that dawn would soon follow. He breathed in the air to smell its odors. He always did that, every morning of every day, because a warrior never knows what his last odor will be before the smell of blood and death overwhelm him. It was a very precious moment. Selot closed his eyes and did the same thing. Suddenly, in the silence, he felt a presence. It was the same one he'd sensed when they'd left Saus and headed for Atiarav. He leaped to his feet to try and identify it, but it had already disappeared. Ucal watched him, worried.

  “Is everything alright?”

  “Yes...I think so,” said Selot, perplexed.

  “What are you dreaming about, Selot? What does one like you dream about?” Ucal asked him, drawing his attention away from that thought.

  “Right now, a girl...her name is Estela,” Selot replied, a little embarrassed. Ucal laughed.

  “So, it is true! You're a boy just like all the others...I knew it!” he teased him kindly. Then his expression clouded over. “I saw you come back after reading the Steles, yesterday morning. I thought, you didn't deserve something like that.”

  Selot didn't respond.

  Dawn came.

  “I'll take care of the northern strip, you two explore the borders of the encampment on the southern strip,” Marrhit ordered. “Do not risk exposure. We'll have enough fun tonight. Stay hidden and control their movements only. There could be lookouts, sentinels outside the camps, outside the perimeters of the camp, scouting. These are precautions a legion normally takes. They might not be there. They are in a position of great superiority right now, and they might maintain it is unnecessary. If you cannot avoid an encounter, eliminate and make it look like a bear or wolf attack. We will rendezvous here before sunset.”

  So, that's what they did. Ucal and Selot neared the military perimeter as close as possible, sticking to the woods to keep hidden. The edges of the militarized zones were supervised by a line of soldiers who remained behind
the hastily built, but efficient palisade. The stake wall was about the height of two men, and it had a walkway and slots for an arrow attack. Towards midday, they ran into sentinels outside the borders, but they remained ably hidden and did not give away their presence. They found an excellent point of observation in the very high branches of a hundred-year-old sycamore. From there they could clearly see the central group of tents, the general quarters, where they could make out the tent in which the general was certain to reside with his host of attendants. They were protected by a guard of praetorians, much like the one at the encampment that besieged the Rotmandis; there could be as many as a hundred chosen guards. They were training at the moment. They watched them at length. The order of soldiers' tents and the officials tents were around them. They observed the many exercises underway. They watched as the frantic work of erecting palisades and reinforcements was carried out. They saw a group of soldiers come in and go out again after several hours. Ucal had a lot of experience after having spent so many years of his life with the Dar army. He knew the types of training exercises being done by the soldiers and he knew that that the praetorian guards were preoperative. There was no doubt about it: the army was preparing for an attack. They didn't see garrisons arrive as reinforcements however, other than those already present in the encampment.

  They made it back to their base before sunset. Marrhit had already arrived and he barely greeted them with a nod. They made a fire and prepared some food. Selot observed his brother's expression. Something was wrong.

  “What's the matter?”

  “I expected reinforcements to arrive.”

  “That could be good news, couldn't it?”

  “It doesn't make sense. By now, the Xàmvetem generals must know of the defection of the men of Atiarav from their military corps, and they would have deduced, obviously, that they are heading for here. I would have expected to see the arrival of other support units from the west, to sink Atiarav. Not only is there no trace, but they are not even reorganizing the encampment to welcome reinforcements. It's clear they are ready to strike, but without ulterior forces. I wonder if they are concentrating their forces against the Rotmandis once more, or if they have other quadrants they are focusing on.”