by Dilland Doe
The people jumped in unison, turning in the air, before shaking their butts again.
“No. I mean, they seem so happy. They live at the will of random leaders from overseas. Do they not care?”
“Well,” Kericles said, “we just ask for a small tax. It’s weekly, but we really don’t take that much. They still mostly govern themselves, right?”
“I guess so, but have they no political pride? Shouldn’t they want to support the power of their people?”
The dancers jump-turned again, then thrust their pelvises through clenched fists a few times before doing some kind of shaky dance.
Finio turned his eyes away from the bouncing genitalia and breasts in front of him. He always thought that the first time he saw a naked woman it’d be romantic.
A few men rode into town followed by a line of newly bought horses. Actians gathered around and pet the fresh mounts. Finio gazed at the basket of large fruit next to a similar basket filled with bread. “I guess we do buy a lot of stuff from them. And lots of it with gold we brought, not just the taxes.”
Kericles clapped his hands, the servant girl they hired ran to him, then stood at attention. “Sir?”
He pointed toward the baskets. “Bread.”
She grabbed a loaf and handed it to him. “Anything else, sir?”
Finio admired her cute smile while Kericles dismissed her with his hand.
“And unlike a real war,” Finio said, “we don’t destroy the land or burn the towns. We just fight pitched battles and then spend money.”
Kericles opened his mouth, but paused as, from behind, the rhythm of two galloping horses grew louder. Both boys leapt out of their chairs, spinning in the air. Two scouts rode through the village, yelling, “Armor on! Armor on! Enemies on the way!”
Squires sprinted to and fore, grabbing the hanging estra armor and weapons, then dashing to their warrior.
Kericles yelled, “Who?”
A scout stopped right in front of him. The naked people continued dancing like they didn’t care that no one watched them.
The scout took in a deep breath. “Looks like a large band. I recognize some of their wagons. Those we have defeated have banded together to attack us!”
“Darn it, man! Numbers!”
“I estimate one-thousand.”
Finio muttered, “Five to one. To the fort?”
“Armor up!” Kericles yelled. “We march to glory!”
Others repeated his command as, one piece at a time, men of skin became men of green hulking armor.
#
The pot strapped to his back, Finio stood behind the Actians. Ahead, a long wall of armored Citians, two men deep, marched toward them. Kericles’s group strode forward like fish swimming into the mouth of a whale.
Finio knew their plan, but he didn’t see how he’d survived it.
The enemy flanks moved ahead faster than the center.
Kericles yelled a command. The fighters split into four wedges. Their march broke into a jog, then a sprint as they roared at their opponents. Finio growled and Kwitty’s magic flowed through him. The wedges’ charges turned into four avalanches rumbling forward. The enemy didn’t have time to brace before the Actians smashed through the line, sending men flying through the air and smacking against the ground. The flanks that marched ahead to envelope the Actians now had their own allies between them and their enemy.
The line of Actians that normally defended Finio, was now on the other side of the threat. Finio focused on his magic to limit the shaking of his hands.
The wedges ran right through the enemy, then turn and charged again. Knocking more opponents to the ground. The Actians repeated the tactic again and again. Most fallen enemies staggered back to their feet after a moment, but some stayed down.
The opponent’s wings marched inward, both in front of and behind their line. Soon, the Actians would be pinched from three sides.
Come on guuuuuys. They stopped charging in and out and fought standing. The loud bangs of heavy weapons slamming into armor soared across the grassland. The flanks closed in. Finio almost lost track of who everyone was because they all wore green estra armor, but he maintained his links to those already connected.
Right before the Actians got rammed from the sides, they charged forward, knocking a hole in the battle and running toward Finio. They stopped and turned, stretching out into a long line, then charged the enemy, who were bunched up in the middle. The length of the two forces equaled one another.
Battle met like rolling thunder. Kericles and his boys pushed forward. Enemies fell but more stepped up to fill their slots. Eventually, the push ended and the warriors fought in place. The rear of the enemy marched toward the sides to again try to envelope the Actians.
One man from each flank jogged into clear grass, past the Actians. Then, angled toward Finio.
The Divinity…
Finio stood his ground until they got ten yards away, then he ran, still focusing on maintaining the speed-flow through his body toward the Actians and into himself. Without armor, heavy weapons would splatter Finio all over the grass. He refused to flee the battle. He ran in circles, as the slower men chased him.
Again, the enemy closed in on Kericles from the sides. Many foes lay on the ground, but the opponents still swallowed the Actians, and were dropping at a slower rate. Somehow, through the link of speed, Finio could feel his comrades’ exhaustion, and as his breaths got heavier and heavier from fleeing his pursuers, his own tiredness weighed him down like an anchor.
He glanced at the two guys chasing him. How come they aren’t tired!? Were they in back rows till now and are pretty much fresh?
The opponents closing in on the flanks swung their weapons into air as Kericles and his comrades fled at the last second, breaking away from the battle. Somehow, Finio’s attackers had gotten on both sides of him. His eyes burned from sweat dripping into them. His lungs hurt from heavy breaths. He wanted to collapse. Maybe he still hadn’t fully recovered from using sapping magic.
Kericles and his men successfully disengaged while the enemy marched after them. Finio had to escape. He could see the eyes of the men lifting weapons above their shoulders to slam down on him.
Muffled from the pot, Kwitty yelled, “Growl then click with your tongue while thinking of awakening from a long sleep.”
“What!?”
From Finio’s left, a huge poleaxe swung toward his head. He rolled forward. As he leapt up from the maneuver, he growled and clicked his tongue, thinking of times that seemed like centuries ago when he could spend long, lazy mornings in bed. Oh Hyzantria. How I miss you.
Kwitty’s power ran through him, similar to when he increased speed, but somehow a little different. Then, his tiredness left him. His side no longer burned. His legs no longer shook. He dashed away from the men and joined the retreating Actians.
Kericles yelled, “Be careful cousin! That looked close. I knew dad should have gotten you some estra. Why is he such a fool?”
“I’m okay. I can now increase endurance, let me try on you guys.” He growled and clicked, then the entire retreat sped up, followed by a boisterous cheer.
Finio said, “I’m not sure how much it really increases it. We shouldn’t risk returning to battle based on this.”
Kericles nodded. “Onward to the fort men! To the fort!”
They jogged to the wooden fort on a hill already manned by a handful of squires. They closed the gates and watched as the alliance of previously defeated foes limped toward them, then set up camp in the distance.
Kericles ordered men to different parts of the fort’s walls. He had others rest and barked to squires to dearmor the few hurt men.
Finio approached him. “How large are the stocks?”
Leaning his armored head back, Kericles said, “Yeeeeeahhhhh. I didn’t expect a siege. We got a day’s worth of food.”
#
Kericles and Finio, alone, left the fort, walking to the enemy camp. Five men strode out to gre
et them. None of the seven wore armor. Finio had slept surprising well in a fort running out of food surrounded by rivals. Unfortunately, his well-restedness didn’t improve their situation.
They all greeted each other, shaking hands and exchanging names. All five of them were a leader of their own band who temporarily allied against the Actians.
Kericles grinned. “We’ve messed you guys up pretty good, heh heh.” The smile left his face. “Any dead?”
A man nodded. “One. But it’s a part of war, even friendly war like this. He will go home with honor.”
Everyone but Finio threw fists in the air. “Glory!”
Finio mouthed the word after the others shouted it.
Kericles spoke in his overly confident and proud voice. “I bested you all! I and my Actians are superior Citians. My goal is southwest. Let’s all join forces and share in my ultimate glory!”
Shaking his head, one man said, “You and your boys are talented, and your sorcerer helps out,” he nodded toward Finio, “but that husband-wife duo are strong. They are no novice mages. And the men who follow them are hardened with many years in the Torn Lands. They also fight hard. They seem to love their torn state more than their home cities.”
The man next to him spit. “Disgusting! That makes them traitors. Let’s smash’em!”
All but the first man nodded. Kericles smiled. “Then, you’re interested in taking the lovers down. I hold a pretty large swath of territory, but my scouts tell me the farmland down there is good, and there are valuable mines.”
A few of the men nodded. One said, “This is so.”
Kericles made eye contact with each man. “Okay. I’ve clearly bested you all. And our only chance is my superior forces and my wizard. I’ll get 90 percent of the conquered taxes, you guys share 10.
They snorted, then glanced at each other. One man said, “No, boy. No.”
Clenching his fist, Kericles said, “I can still win this fight. I can knock all your bands to the ground, take your armor and weapons, and end your adventure. Do you adults really wanna tell your families and friends you were sent home by a boy?”
The men crossed their arms, glancing at each other before walking away. They stopped after about ten yards and conferred in whispers before coming back. One man stepped ahead of the others. “We want fifty percent.”
Kericles crossed his arms and shook his head.
The man bit his lower lip in a scowl. “Forty-five percent.”
Kericles chuckled. Finio wondered if his cousin was guaranteeing their defeat at the hands of this alliance.
“Final offer,” the man in front said. “Give us forty percent. You get sixty even though there are many more of us. It’s fair. Take it, or take our siege.”
Kericles turned and walked off. Finio followed right behind him.
From behind, the man yelled, “What’s wrong with you!? Okay, thirty-five!”
The cousins kept walking.
Another voice shouted, “Twenty!”
“What!” “Hey!” A commotion erupted from the leaders.
Kericles slowed his walk. “I have a pretty awesome idea for a counter attack tonight. It’s risky, but it will take’em by surprise. If it works well, a fourth of their men will be dead or too injured to fight for at least a few weeks.”
Finio sighed. “That would be glorious, but you said it’s risky. And if this husband-wife team is as strong as everyone says…we need all the allies we can get.”
Kericles turned. “Twenty it is!” He strode back toward them.
“I didn’t agree to twenty. Why did you say that?”
“Yeah!”
Two men glowered at a third who’s mouth hung open while he held his hands out, palms up.
“I’d do twenty,” a fourth said. “If we can’t beat the man in open battle how will we take a fort?”
A fifth nodded. “Yeah, let’s do twenty.”
One Citian slammed his foot to the ground. “I won three battles in a row before this kid and now you wanna ally with him as the supreme leader who gets all the loot? And he’s an Actian! We might be slaughtering them in Actus before long.”
Kericles dashed forward. Finio instinctively sent magic into him. Before the man closed his mouth from talking, Kericles plowed into him and he skidded across the ground. Kericles walked over him. “What did you say about Actus?”
The man blinked a few times. Then looked from the other leaders to Kericles. “Uh, yeah. I can do twenty.”
Ch. 34
Will myself to defeat boredom. Will myself to defeat boredom. Will myself to defeat boredom. Crouching on the rafters of an old small-town church, Parto thought the words that he had chanted so many times. His legs throbbed from squatting on wooden beams for so many hours, but what most drove him toward a deadly mistake was boredom.
Watching a few people come, meditate, say a few prayers to The Divinity, and go, wasn’t interesting. But Parto knew his target visited this place nightly, and often alone. The wizard had prepared his house with magical traps, but not his place of worship. It didn’t make sense why a man devoted to maleficence, cooperation with demons, would still so rigorously show his love for The Divinity, but the man’s psychology didn’t matter to Parto…his death did.
Finally, the thinning brown hair and large head mole that Parto was looking for walked in-between the wooden pews to the shrine in the front. The target touched the statue of The Divinity’s symbol and closed his eyes. Parto could leap from his position and penetrate the heart with his long, thin dagger, but two others sat praying. Witnesses were acceptable, he was doing The Authority’s work, but not ideal.
He waited, knowing that the target usually remained there for ten to twenty minutes most nights. Patience is a virtue of The Divinity. Patience is a virtue of The Divinity. Patience is a virtue of The Divinity. Patience is a skill of an assassin. Patience is a skill of an assassin. Patience is a skill of an assassin. Patience is a skill of an assassin.
The maleefa lifted his head, then walked to the side of the church next to the wall with a large painting of The Divinity’s justice given to the world. A handful of yards above this, Parto waited.
One of the potential witnesses exited the building. Then the other finished his prayer, stood, and left. Parto was alone with this betrayer, a rejecter of The Divinity’s pure love and an embracer of the evil that is magic.
The target closed his eyes in prayer. Without a sound, Parto dropped forward, his inquisitor robes flowing upward as he descended. The dagger aimed downward, toward the heart through the back. Then, the wet slush of penetration and a gasp came from the maleefa. Parto removed the weapon, dashed across the church between pews, then ran up the wall before again crouching in the darkness of the rafters; where he watched his target die.
After many months of surveillance, the deed had been done. He could finally go back to the capital and into the library for the first time. All information The Authority had about his parents, would soon be his knowledge.
Ch. 35
His steps echoed off the gapping halls of the library. On the sides in metal rows that rose halfway to the ceiling, far higher than many stacked men, sat records. In other sections, the dark shelves held books, but those didn’t interest him at the moment. Parto needed records of maleefas.
He bent his neck to scan all the rows and rows of metal boxes above him. So many of them. How has the Authority defeated them all? Each with the powers of demons…The Divinity is power…
Large, golden letters indicated where records were kept by last name. His own was easy to remember—Arrassio. He rolled a ladder to the appropriate position and climbed, reading the names on the edges of the record boxes until at last he came upon the name of his uncle.
He leaned over the left side of the ladder. If not for his inquisitor training, the vertigo of row after row of records would scare the crap out of him. He twisted a nob on the front of the box, then pulled the top back. A stack of papers lay inside. He read. Hibberro Arrassio
- Maleefa.
He didn’t care that much about his uncle, so skimmed quickly. He scrunched his face. He’s his own primary witness? Uncle...you idiot.
Shaking his head, he moved onto the next Arrassio box. He opened it. Themeno Arrassio. Parto read the documents within. Uncle turned my dad in…I should kill him! Anger blanked out his mind as he raised a clenched fist to his face. Well, if father was a maleefa…No. They must have been set up. Someone manipulated Hibb.
He skimmed through the stack of papers with sketches and descriptions of spells and demons. It did look like his father’s hand.
He moved onto the box he feared the most, opened it, then read the name at the top. Orcula Arrassio – Maleefa...mother.
He scanned her crimes of magic. The legalese made no sense to him. The next page described the evidence against her. Primary Witness: Themeno Arrassio.
He leaned away from the box, exhaling. Dad? Why would you turn mom in? Why?
He read on. Secondary Witness: Rylo Pinsta.
He picked up the other pages and fingered through them. Is this writing by her hand? Oh mother. A tear rolled down his cheek. He concentrated on preventing more as he breathed in and out in a shaky breath, then returned his focus to the pages.
Words and sketches filled many pages, revealing designs for spells. She seemed to have been an advanced wizard. Parto paused, rereading what he just saw. Key to ultimate spell - enchanted pregnancy.
He examined drawings of nude men and women surrounding a couple making love over some strange symbol. Around all this, people in robes chanted rites. Was our pregnancy enchanted? Dad wouldn’t do this. Not willingly…Maybe someone threatened to hurt her so they were forced…the count was a witness…What about the dark wizard?
#
After some casual sedeuxing, Lizeto and Parto entered the fortress to eat. Parto loved seeing his friend, but he was here for the count. Parto’s jaw tightened just thinking about how light the count got off. He was an ally of a maleefa! He brought him into our land! He had to be up to no good. He deserved much more than a little hand burn.