by Ink Bamboo
Suppressed by her aura, the memory ceased its escape. It brought back a scene from old to her consciousness. Back then, her guardian had taken her outside to play with other children.
She could remember their laughs and cries. It was a pleasant memory, at least in the beginning. One she had no reason to suppress on her own.
Unfortunately, everything ended when the parents of the other children found out about her identity. Most of them were scared, afraid to let their children hang out in her presence. They couldn’t afford to risk the incurrence of an injury. The church’s punishment would have been too heavy to endure.
Alas.
A wet sensation on her cheeks called Erin back to reality. The flavor of regret had started streaming out of her eyes before she realized it. Are these tears? She couldn’t recall ever feeling them before. No, there was a hazy memory of a woman embracing her and crying...
“Erin.”
Her pale hands were combing through her hair. She could remember her saying something…
“Erin.”
A farewell, was it? No, it was something else…
“Erin!”
A devastating anger gripped her heart. Why couldn’t she remember? Why? Why? Why?
*Splash!*
Magnus could no longer tolerate his granddaughter’s distraught face. The rare fluctuations of the expressions she displayed worried him to no avail. Impatiently, he took a vial of holy water from within his robes and splashed it on her face. He couldn’t think of a better solution for waking her from her daze.
“Huh?”
Finally receiving an answer, Magnus’s worried face brimmed with happiness. “Erin, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said, her mind still confused by the flood of emotions she had just lived through. “I think I am.”
“Just what are you doing here in the middle of nothing? Where are your guards? What happened?
Erin looked around, her gaze aiming towards north and south, east and west. “Where is he?” she asked.
“Who?” Magnus asked back.
“The boy,” said Erin. “Amber eyes, black hair.”
Magnus couldn’t believe his ears. Was this the same boy the initiate paladin had told him about? Just what did he have that made Erin come to this place in the middle of nowhere? Just how did he make his stoic granddaughter shed a tear?
“I don’t see anyone around,” answered Magnus.
A disappointed mutter silently exposed Erin’s feelings, “He’s gone.”
Magnus’s gaze rose to meet Erin’s eyes. They were back to their usual golden dullness. The traces of emotions she previously displayed had been buried back to the deepest parts of her conscious self.
“We can look for him later,” said Magnus. He didn’t miss the tone of yearning in Erin’s voice. “Tell me more about him on the way back.”
Chapter 17
Transition.
A rhythmic march echoed across the land. Miles of distance were not enough to dull the sound of a well-trained army’s advance. Each of their steps carried pride, hate, fear, and hope. They formed a sword aiming in one singular direction.
“Forward!”
A simple command led every man and woman towards the same place in the southern border: a rebel-controlled fortress sealing the mountain pass into their northern territories.
It was a place previously owned by Nyx’s military, but that had since fallen into their hands. It was now the single most important foundation to the safety and growth of the rebels. Within its walls rested the core of their troops: those who had deserted Nyx’s army, the banished nobles who had received private training, and even the few commoners who displayed talent in military fields.
Marching drums made out of dried leather and wood served to set the pulse of their march. Moving through the desert wasn’t a simple task. It required discipline and consistency not many had. If they moved too fast, the troops would be dehydrated before arriving at their destination. Too slow and they wouldn’t make it in time.
Still, they had to hurry. Nyx’s army was marching towards their doorstep, for someone had warned them of their attack. Soon, they would all find themselves submerged in battle. The more time their side had to prepare, the higher their chances of victory.
Fortunately, they were ready to go all out. Knowledge about how the upper echelon had acquired the church’s artifact had already spread throughout the common troops. It was now in their control, paving the way to their victory.
The help of the undead was enough to wash away any remaining opposition the soldiers had about having a frontal clash. Unlike them, the living dead were relentless, strong, and fearless. It was the best ally they could ask for in these times of war.
*Clip, clop*
Amongst the marching horde, a group stuck to the back of the army. Unlike the foot soldiers who had to endure the desert’s heat with their own feet, they enjoyed the luxury of riding on top of horses. They were the head controlling the body. The ones responsible for supplying and organizing most of the logistics that backed the rebels. They were the council. Only Arkus was absent for he was busy leading the troops at the front.
There was a reason why they remained behind the troops. Following after them, a convoy of cloaked figures marched in synchronous order. Those who got close to them would be able to smell the stench of rot coming from their bodies. The cloaks were a weak half-measure meant to prevent the sun from strengthening the smell.
Still, Katherine, Richard, Nolan and Jan moved in unison atop their horses, sparing no glances to the group behind them.
“Hey, old man, what are our losses so far?” asked Nolan.
“Seven men so far in exchange for the undead behind us. We had to hold off from raising more until we could find a full batch of suitable candidates. We don’t want to raise any suspicions about the missing elites before the war.”
Katherine sighed. She was aware of the ruthlessness that was required to achieve their goals. “Is there really no other way?” she asked. “We are weakening our own strength at this rate.”
“It’s worth the price,” explained Richard, bringing his horse close to the other three. “Each of those undead has the fighting prowess of a rank one fighter. Considering how we only need to sacrifice one individual in exchange for dozens of undead, I would dare to say it was a worthy choice. Instead of worrying, you should take into account the lives their sacrifice will save.”
“Indeed,” said Nolan, “you’re overthinking it.”
Seeing her frowning expression, Richard continued, “Say, Katherine, just think of this as a way to preserve our strength. It would have been much worse if this ‘alliance’ with the church had never taken place.”
“Nonetheless,” warned Jan, “it’s not like we can afford to stop being careful. The church might be trying to trick us into destroying our own foundations. The fact that they wanted to ride separately is worrying in and of itself.”
You’re all being too calm about this, thought Katherine. You’ve been blinded by this power.
Unfortunately for her, it was one against four. Even Arkus was in favor of putting an end to their civil war by using the artifact the church had provided. It was something she had to come to terms with.
Seeing Richard, Jan, and Nolan continuing their discussion about the benefits of using the undead troops, Katherine’s gaze veered towards the soldiers ahead of them.
Riding along with them was a young man with black hair and amber-colored eyes. He was one of the sacrifices Jan and the other council members had nominated to include amongst those raising the undead. Katherine couldn’t help but think he wasn’t as simple as he seemed.
He was someone Richard didn’t trust. The boy’s sharp gaze and venomous tongue were proof enough that he wasn’t someone that could be easily manipulated. To Richard, only those who were simple-minded could be of use. Only they could be controlled. Thus, it surprised Katherine that Zaros had managed to escape being part of the first wave of
sacrifices.
Perhaps the heavens have some mercy, after all.
As Katherine thought about that, a powerful command echoed all the way to her group. Arkus’s voice, once enhanced by his aura, was strong enough to travel all the way to where she was riding with ease.
“Hold!” he ordered. “We’ll be taking a 20 minute break. Eat, rest, and drink before we resume our march.”
Apparently, it was time for a small break. Long enough so the troops could enjoy some of their rations. Short enough so they wouldn’t idle around.
Hearing Arkus’s instructions, Richard placed his hand on the marble inside his small leather satchel. Hold still, he ordered. His intentions seemed to be understood as the cloaked group behind them came to a stop.
Unlike raising the undead, Magnus had concluded that controlling them seemed to have no adverse effects on someone’s health. From the information Jan had obtained in his tests, once raised, the undead would obey the commands whoever controlled the marble without question. That meant that unless they had to replenish the troops constantly, they could have someone well versed in military tactics controlling them.
Seeing an opportunity to get a break, Katherine left the other council members behind. Hesitantly, she approached Amro, extending some dried meat and a canteen with water to him. She had to consciously make an effort about hiding the guilt she was feeling within.
“Come on, don’t be shy,” she said. “I have more than enough for myself. You have to keep yourself hydrated under this weather.”
Amro nodded, no trace of pointless courtesy in his motions as he grabbed both of Katherine’s offers. “Thanks,” he said. He had his own provisions, but there was no point in spending them when given an option not to.
Katherine smiled, carefully dismounting her horse as she came closer to Amro.
“Don’t worry about those things in cloaks,” she noted. “They’re under control.”
“I know,” replied Amro. This fact was obvious enough to anyone who had seen them during Magnus’s presentation, let alone someone with his identity.
“We have our reasons for putting cloaks on them, even when most of our troops already know their identity,” explained Katherine. “It’s a matter of politics.”
Amro ignored the explanation Katherine offered. His mouth was busy drinking the water she had given him earlier. The fresh sensation flowing through his throat gave his voice back its strength.
“I know,” he repeated.
Katherine simply smiled, noting Amro’s straight-to-the-point attitude. She felt slightly guilty about what she thought the council was tricking him to do. If only there was another choice, she would have tried to incorporate the boy into the core of their future government. After all, the kingdom needed new talents to get back its former glory. Alas, she was already resigned to their decision.
Poor child, thought Katherine. If only he had been born somewhere else.
“Say, Zaros,” she said, clearly unaware of the two minds residing within the boy’s body. “Are there any goals you have aside from revenge?” If it was something she could achieve, she wouldn’t mind doing the task for him. It was a simple way to clear her conscience.
Amro pondered for a moment. For millennia he had focused on his duty as a god, reaping souls and helping them join the cycle of reincarnation. He had ruled over death with nothing else in sight. Sure, he enjoyed living, but that was second to fulfilling his duty. Mortal desires and aspirations no longer blinded his sight.
“No,” he answered. The determination in his voice made him appear cold and distant. “Right now I think only of fulfilling my promise.”
“To attain revenge, right?”
“You could say so, yes.”
Katherine sighed. She felt pained seeing another young life go to waste in the vicious cycle of hatred. She believed life was meant to be enjoyed, a privilege both the lucky and the strong had access to. Revenge seemed shallow in comparison.
“Why?” she asked. “I don’t mean to underestimate your wishes, but there must surely be something else you live for?”
“No,” answered Amro. “I lived the way I was meant to until my time came. Those who cheat death live on borrowed time. In cases like ours, everything ends once our goals are achieved.”
Ours? wondered Katherine, noticing Amro’s manner of speech. Is this a case of split personality? Perhaps his mind is already gone as Nolan suggested.
Thinking back to when she was running away from Nyx, and how she could have ended the same way, Katherine’s mind revealed her own fear. If only I didn’t need to face death.
Amro looked at her, partially aware of her thoughts. “Don’t,” he said. “Life has meaning because there is an end to it. If we all lived forever, everything would lose its worth. The extent of eternity would make even the most simple of pleasures meaningless. Nothing that lives is meant to do so forever.”
Amro returned the empty canteen, the last few drops of water dripping from his lips. “Thanks,” he said. “That was refreshing.”
“No problem,” replied Katherine. Her mind was still busy processing Amro’s words. She had approached him in an attempt to offer him encouragement as a way to lighten the guilt over her shoulders. Unfortunately, she had failed.
✽✽✽
Zaros found himself surrounded by trees, once again lying in the middle of the forest. His expression no longer displayed the curiosity and doubt he had in the beginning. All that remained was frustration and rage.
He got up once more, too tired to recall how many times it had been that he had performed these same actions. His voice traveled the entire clearing as he vented his repressed emotions.
“Damn you, Amro! I don’t know what you want from me.”
Alas, only silence returned his call. At first he had tried with the strongest of insults he could think of — now, all he could manage was to vent his frustration occasionally. It wasn’t his first time trying to get an answer, nor would it be his last.
“Damn it!” yelled Zaros. His fist covered in aura dented away the bark of an unfortunate tree. Over and over again he clashed his knuckles against the wood in a vain attempt to ease his mood.
Do you really want to torture me that badly? he wondered. Why do you wish for me to live this moment again?
Unfortunately, his nightmare wasn’t over. After a few minutes of self lamentation, his enhanced senses could grasp the desperate screams from a woman in the distance. The horror was once again repeating itself.
Zaros ran in her direction, sparing no energy to move at his utmost speed. He couldn’t recall how many times it had been that he had traveled this path, nor how many days it had been since he had last rested his mind. Every time, however, the same story would repeat itself.
*Slap*
A familiar sound echoed in his ears, calling his attention to a scene he deeply wished to avoid. The same mercenary, the same woman, and the same script. All of them summoning the vivid depiction of that which he wished to avoid the most.
Zaros’s eyes clouded in rage as he came closer to the mercenary, his lone dagger being withdrawn from its place of rest before it was launched in his head’s direction. Kill — a single word made reality his innermost desire.
A crushing sound announced his success. The dagger sunk into his victim’s skull, once again marking him the savior of the same poor woman. He thought of approaching her but stopped. She was scared, still grabbing her head, laying on the ground in a futile effort to protect her vital organs.
A feeling of hatred towards the mercenary flooded Zaros’s heart, causing him to take another step towards the town. He was going to kill them all. Once he tried to do so, however, a suctioning force brought him back to a familiar void. Right back to the start.
This scene had repeated itself more times than Zaros could remember. He would always start in the same forest clearing, with the same screams calling for help in the distance. He would make his best effort to run in their direction each tim
e, trying to stop history from repeating itself.
Unfortunately, no matter how many times he tried to save the woman, he could never get to her. Every time he took a step forward, he would find himself in the same starting place.
Zaros couldn’t help but think Amro was playing the most sadistic game in history. The trust he had built in his partner was replaced by broken fragments of doubt. How could he be expected to endure? What was he supposed to do?
He wanted instructions, he wanted to be saved. Unfortunately, no one was coming to his aid.
Before he could come to terms with what was happening, the same scream echoed in the distance. It was a familiar call for help. The endless loop of a nightmare was once again repeating itself.
It wasn’t over for Zaros — it never was.
Chapter 18
Inner-circle.
The cover of dusk fell over hundreds of troops as they arrived at their destination. As both men and women raised their heads, they saw a fort protected by additional walls to its sides. The supplementary walls served the purpose of providing a defensive buffer. What’s more, they offered plenty of space to garrison troops well in excess of the fort’s usual capacity.
Unlike the outer walls, however, the inner walls of the fort were pitifully broken in numerous places, covered with moss older than most people in the kingdom. Those walls had witnessed a time when their nation had thrived. A time when a rebellion wouldn’t have ever been considered.
Cold currents of air formed through the troops as they settled before the northern side of the structure. There was sufficient space to garrison them all, but it would take over half a day to get everyone in place. A temporary camp outside the fort’s northern walls was necessary to guard them from the night’s cold in the meantime.
Those responsible for transporting the provisions were the first to go through. The soldiers guarding the northern side escorted their visitors to the gate, and after a customary check, allowed them passage to the camp inside the walls.