Knights End

by Brad Clark

  Their walk was swift until they reached the main battlefield. Dead bodies were everywhere. Those that might have survived the initial fighting would not have survived exposure to the cold night. There were no moans for mercy or cries for help. Only deathly silence filled their ears. Eventually, the buzzards and other scrounging animals would make their way to the battlefield to feast upon the dead bodies. There were too many bodies to be naturally taken care of, and it was unlikely the Bargoroth would adequately take care of the dead. A horrid stench would soon arise from the land as the bodies would be left to sit and decay on their own.

  “They may be barbarians, but they are not stupid,” Nikki said. They had reached the base of the hill where the fighting had been the fiercest, and the bodies had piled up the highest. “We are being watched.”

  “I am sure for some time, too,” Kile said.

  They started up the hill, having to zig and zag their way around bodies. When they were halfway up, a group of five Bargoroth crested the hill and started walking down towards them. Nikki had also observed several groups of two or three hiding among the dead to act as lookouts.

  The group of five met them before they could see over the hill. They were all similar in appearance with big, bushy beards, dark, piercing eyes, dressed in furs, and carrying spiked clubs.

  One of them spoke in their own tongue.

  Kile responded in their language, then he added in Commoner, “It would be easier for us to speak in Commoner. I know your tongue, but not well enough to speak it.”

  The man let out a grunt and asked, “Who are you?”

  “I am Kile.”

  “I am Princess Nikki of the Hurai.”

  The leader lifted his club and pointed it threatening at Nikki. “You do not speak to me.”

  Kile responded, “We are of the Hurai. It is a land far from here. We come in peace.”

  “Hurai,” the man repeated as if the taste of the words was bitter. “I know of your kind.”

  “I have visited your villages before. I know a little of your language and of your kind. What is your name?”

  “I am Barr, chieftain of the Korrok tribe. You are trespassing on our land.”

  “We are here to request an audience to speak with you,” Nikki said.

  Barr swung his club at Nikki, letting it hit the ground at her feet. “Silence! You do not speak.”

  Kile looked at Nikki, pleading with his eyes to stop talking.

  She clamped her mouth shut, knowing that it was the right thing to do, but found it very difficult to not pull out her swords and separate the man’s head from his body.

  “You fought with the Taran, did you not? It is only our curiosity for your strange looks that is keeping your heads attached to your bodies.”

  “We are not with the Tarans,” Kile replied. “If you saw us, you saw how we fought our way out of the battle. If we could have avoided the battle, we would have. But, we had no choice. The Tarans forced us to fight with them.”

  “Yes, we saw. We sent some of our best warriors after you, and they did not return.”

  “We needed to defend ourselves.”

  “You killed many Bargoroth, many Korrok, many Hilekon.”

  “What are Hilekon?”

  “Three tribes joined together for this battle. The Bargorth, Korrok, and Hilekon. It was through our combined might that we finally defeated the evil that is Taran.”

  “Taran is not the only evil in this world,” Kile said. “There is another. It was why we are here.”

  Barr narrowed his eyes and let out a low growl as he snapped, “the vile soldiers of Taran have killed many thousands of our kind. There is no other that could be eviler than them.”

  “I wish that were true.” Kile glanced around at the dead bodies from both armies. “This is not a conversation for the middle of the battlefield.” He let his eyes settle on Barr for a moment before adding, “or with a chieftain who is not in command.”

  Barr stiffened as those last words rankled Barr’s feathers, which is what Kile intended to do. Kile knew that it would only be a lesser chieftain who would be sent out to meet strangers who suddenly appeared on a battlefield.

  After his own pause to silently gauge Kile, Barr let out a guttural grunt and said, “Olofar is the chieftain of the Balgoroth. It is he who commands the army.”

  “Olofar is chieftain of all of the tribes?”

  “There is no chieftain of all the tribes. Each tribe has their own. Olofar of the Bargoroth, myself of the Korrok, and Ulg of the Hilekon. There are seven tribes in all, spread far to the east and far to the west. Olofar brought the tribes together by promising much more than he can deliver, but he did bring us victory. It cost us many good men and women, but we may have finally been relieved of the Taran tyranny. Follow. Olofar is still celebrating his victory, which means he is in a good mood to listen to outsiders, such as yourself. Either that, or he’ll kill you on the spot. I can never tell what his mood will be after bloody battles and a night of drinking.”

  Kile fell into step beside Barr. The other barbarian warriors blocked Nikki from walking beside Barr, forcing her to walk behind him. She held her anger in check as best she could.

  “You say you have visited our villages,” Barr said while they walked. “I have never seen your kind. I would have remembered your eyes and skin. No one would mistake you for one of us.”

  “Hurai have been trading with your kind for many years. It seems I have only visited the Bargoroth tribe. Until now, I thought there was only one tribe, and you were all Bargoroth.”

  Barr let out another grunt. “Many generations ago our ancestors were of one tribe. There are many stories as for why there are now seven. I could spend the week of the full moon telling you all the stories, but none are probably close to the truth. Our kind is a warring kind, and we bicker among ourselves. It is no surprise that no one man could lead us all. Olofar tries, but he could only unite three of the seven tribes. A true leader would have united us long ago, and then we would have plenty of warriors to defend against the Taran invasion.”

  “What did he promise you to fight at his side?”

  Barr let out a boisterous laugh. “You are insightful! We are simple people, so there is little to offer us that we would desire. However, Olofar has a very desirable daughter. Plus taking her as my wife will ensure peace between our tribes.”

  They continued to wind their way up the hill, avoiding piles of bodies. When they crested the hill, Nikki saw that the barbarian army had finished their celebrating and to her surprise, had started a battlefield cleanup. The army was slowly moving out from their central camp taking care of the bodies to fend off disease. While the Taran bodies were being tossed about unceremoniously, the bodies of the barbarian tribes were being handled more carefully. The sheer number of warriors that were working would make quick work of the cleanup. By the end of the day, the piles of bodies would be burning, lighting the sky for those to see from many miles away.

  Not all of the barbarian warriors were helping to take care of the dead. A ring of tree trunks was laid out on the ground around the backside of the main encampment. Two tree trunks were tied together in the middle forming a cross in the shape of an ‘X.’ While still on the ground, a Taran Centurion was dragged to the cross. It took four barbarians to get the Centurion in place, so his arms and legs were lashed to the tree trunks. Then a very large and burly Bargoroth stepped forward with four spikes and a hammer. With quick ease, he drove the spikes through the wrists and ankles of the Centurion. With each hammer stroke, the Centurion let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  Nikki flinched with the first scream, but by the time the burly Bargoroth had finished his work and the cross was pushed up into place, she was numb to what was happening. The Centurion hung his head low, knowing that death would be a long time coming. Nikki felt sorry for the man, for it was no way for a soldier to die. Whether it was on the battlefield or with a merciful stroke afterward, no soldier should be tortured to meet the One
God in the afterlife.

  As soon as the first Centurion was put in place, another Centurion was brought out, kicking and screaming, and fighting with all his might. But the Bargoroth were too strong and easily forced him onto the next cross. Quickly, the Centurion’s hands and feet were hammered into place, and the cross lifted up. Other barbarians were hauling recently cut tree trunks from a nearby grove, quickly adding to the number of available crosses. There were indeed survivors of the battle, but they would not be survivors much longer.

  Nikki followed closely behind Barr and Kile, her anger at being treated poorly because she was a woman changed to anger at how they were treating the surviving Taran Centurions. There was no doubt that soldiers knew it was possible to die upon the battlefield, but to survive the fight and then be humiliated upon a cross was not honoring to them. A soldier, even the worst of enemies, should be at least respected for their effort and sacrifice.

  “That is not a fitting end for soldiers,” Nikki said, loudly and with as much anger as she could muster without shouting.

  Barr glanced back at her. “It is not your place to make judgments.”

  Nikki, finally unable to control her temper, grabbed Barr on his shoulder and pulled hard. Barr spun around with a quickness that almost caught her off guard, but her instincts saved her life. The dagger came at her side, which she deftly blocked with the back of one hand and then before Barr could counter, she grabbed his wrist with her other hand and twisted. The dagger fell harmlessly to the ground, and she held onto his wrist, holding it with a strength that Barr could not break.

  For an instant, no one moved. The other barbarians that were trailing behind started to move to react, but they were waiting for a reaction from Barr. His eyes blazed directly into Nikki, who held the gaze. Then he laughed. The barbarians behind her relaxed and took a step back. Kile had turned and was prepared to defend Nikki, but relaxed when Barr did.

  Nikki released her grip on his wrist and couldn’t help but smile at Barr’s deep belly laugh.

  “No Korrok woman would dare touch me, but no Korrok woman would move so fast, either!”

  “I am Sak’Hurai,” Nikki said with conviction as if the entire world knew and feared her kind.

  “Hmm,” Barr said with a scratch of his shaggy beard. “I do not know that word, but it must mean something to you.”

  Kile replied, “The Sak’Hurai are the best warriors in the world. We train from childhood to protect our lands, and we did so successfully for countless generations. Any one Sak’Hurai is as good as ten of your kind.”

  Barr’s laughter ended, and his tone became serious. “I saw your warriors in action, slicing through the Bargoroth with ease. Fortunately, none of my Korrok warriors were killed by your warriors, else I would have bashed in your heads myself. When I saw you approach, I was curious to meet your kind and look into your eyes to see if you were the killers that I saw on the battlefield.”

  “What do you see, now?” Nikki asked.

  Barr turned to her and gave her a sharp look. “I see defiance, courage, and fearlessness.” He kept his gaze on her for a moment longer before adding, “But, I do not see killers.”

  “It is what we do, not who we are,” Nikki said.

  Barr let out a grunt that could have been agreement, or it could have been a dismissive sound. He pointed to a large Taran tent that had survived the battle and said to Kile, “Olofar is there. You are welcome to enter, but the woman is not.”

  “I am not just Sak’Hurai,” Nikki said. “I am Princess Nikki of the Hurai. I represent all our people.”

  “Women are not allowed in the tent of men,” Barr said calmly as if she should have known it.

  “Then maybe the men should come outside,” Nikki growled

  Barr shook his head. “Inside the tent or outside, the presence of women will defile the sanctitude of our council.”

  “I saw more than just men lying dead on the battlefield,” Nikki said, as loudly as she could. “You let your women fight and die, but refuse them to be around this council of yours?”

  “Tradition,” Barr replied. “We are a people of honor and tradition. Women serve but do not lead. They know their place.”

  “We are here on a mission of peace,” Kile said, moving to stand between the angry princess and the defiant barbarian. “Princess Nikki is the leader of our people, and she speaks for all of us. If she is not allowed in, then I humbly ask that your tribal leaders come to her.”

  “I can make the request, but Olofar is a man very steeped in the tradition of our people.”

  Barr disappeared into the tent for some time. Nikki and Kile stood silently outside, feeling thousands of eyes on them.

  When Barr finally appeared, he was not alone. Behind him, a much larger man stepped through the tent flap. He stood nearly a head taller and had a much wider girth. His black beard was curly and scraggly and hung down to his belly.

  “Who is this!” Olofar cried out, eyes narrowed and glaring at Nikki.

  “I am Princess Nikki.”

  “Do not speak, woman!” Olofar shouted. “I will tolerate your presence, but your man will speak for you.”

  Nikki crossed her arms, feeling the need to put this man in his place. Unfortunately, she was outnumbered many thousands to two. There was nothing else for her to do other than to play along. They could use their warriors, but she wondered if it would be worth bringing them to Karmon where their kingdom’s leader was a queen. She was sure Conner and Glaerion would not tolerate anyone speaking to Queen Elissa as he was speaking to her now. Having gone this far with her plan, there was really no turning back. She’d just have to see how far it would go. Turning to Kile, she gave a quick nod.

  Kile cleared his throat, uncomfortable at being in the position where he not only spoke for the Hurai but for all the peoples of the world. It should be Princess Nikki, as she was not only the warrior but the diplomat by default. Whether she liked it or not, as royalty, she was the voice that should be heard. They had no choice, though, for the Bargoroth and the other tribes would not listen to her solely because she was a woman. It gave him doubts about whether these barbarians were not only going to help them but were worthy of joining them.

  He looked directly into Olofar’s eyes and said, “We have come as emissaries of the armies of the world. Humans, Elves, and Dwarves are banding together to fight an army that threatens the world.”

  “Elves?” Olofar shouted out with a hearty laugh. “You mean the little creatures of the night who steal and eat babies?”

  The others around him joined in laughter.

  Kile shook his head. “We, too, have children’s stories of Elves, but they are not stories. They are people just like us. Look like us, act like us, but they are different than us. They are great warriors who can use magic. They come from lands far across the ocean, and they have come here to join us in our fight.”

  Olofar’s demeanor changed when Kile mentioned magic. His eyes narrowed, and all humor left. “Magic is of the Gorigard, god of the underworld.”

  Kile knew that they did not believe in the One God as the Hurai did. During his time trading with them, he learned a little about the gods that they believed in. They were not overly religious at all but did believe in their own retinue of gods. “Your Gorigard uses magic, but magic is not only of the underworld. Magic exists all around us. I did not know this until recently when I was told of a great Elf named Glaerion. He explained how magic is a part of this world just as the air in the sky and the water in the oceans is a part of this world. Gorigard corrupted magic to use it for his own evil purposes. The One God created magic to be used for good, and that is why we are fighting against him and his evil.”

  Olofar turned and spat on the ground. “The Tarans came to our lands proclaiming this One God. This Creator of all things.” He spat on the ground again. “I have not seen this god of theirs and yours, and they only come to steal our land and kill our women and children. Do you want to see what I think of the Tara
ns and their One God?”

  Olofar let out a stream of words in his own language, and a warrior stepped forward with a long-handled ax. He gave one last glare at Kile and began striding away from them. Kile and Nikki fell into step behind. Olofar led them away from the tent, south towards the river. There was a flat piece of land near the river where the Bargoroth were putting up their crosses. There were now nearly two dozen crosses set up with Tarans nailed to them. One was in the midst of having his wrists nailed to a cross. Nikki cringed at the scream that came out of the man. Olofar changed direction to head towards the sound of the screams.

  The cross was being put up just as they arrived, and Nikki let out a gasp.

  “Aeneas,” she whispered.

  Olofar turned to her and smirked. “You know this Taran?”

  Aeneas was covered in dirt and blood, but he didn’t seem to have any apparent wounds. His face was bruised, as he had taken a beating after he was captured. He looked down at Nikki with eyes that barely had any life.

  “I only met him yesterday,” she said.

  “He led the Tarans in battle. He fought bravely, killing many of my Bargoroth warriors. So many, in fact, that he will die the slow death of a traitor. The Tarans slay their kind this way, letting them die of thirst and starvation. It could take days, or even a week for them to finally succumb to Ravishaw.”

  “The god of the dead,” Kile said softly.

  “Ravishaw takes the souls of the dead and sends them to their afterlife. Those who die a warrior’s death go to paradise. Those who die as a traitor will be sent to the depths of the afterlife, where they will burn in eternal pain.”

  “He is a soldier,” Nikki said, feeling an unusual amount of emotion welling up from deep inside. “He does not deserve to die this way.”

  “All Tarans deserve to die this way,” Olofar growled.

  “No one deserves to die this way,” Nikki countered from behind them.