The pale sunlight filtered through the ruby-colored stain glass window behind the throne, bathing it in a crimson glow. To my relief, there was the King on his throne at the far end of the room. Minister Oris stood next to him.
“Chtomio!” I ran towards him. “The Black Army is at the gates! I’ve seen them with my own eyes. They have siege towers!”
Chtomio said nothing. Oris moved forwards, unsheathing his sword.
“I have no idea who you are and don’t particularly care. All I know is that you are going to die.”
Chtomio didn’t move. For a few short moments, I couldn’t make sense of it. He wasn’t going to sit on his throne and let me be murdered in front of him, was he? And then, with a sickening blow to the guts and as icy fingers clawed at my heart, I realized why my old friend hadn’t moved. I went to him and ripped his mask from his face, upsetting his crown and sending it tumbling and clattering across the floor. I will never forget the desolate, lifeless look stare of his eyes or the way his lips had parted as though he were trying to speak and tell me something. But my friend would never speak again. I pulled him forward to see his back was soaked in blood. He slumped in to my arms.
At first, I could only blame myself. If I had stayed, then I would have been there to protect him. He would have lived. As I looked at Oris now, coming at me with his sword, I felt no fear, only an eruption of rage I had never known before. “You murdering coward!” I drew my dagger and ran towards him.
Oris did not expect such wild fury from a youngster. So taken by surprise was he as I thrust at him, he only swerved back out of my reach at the last moment. I came within the breadth of a dog’s hair of piercing his stomach. As he recovered and sliced his blade towards my neck, he called out.
“Guards! I have found the assassin!” He thrust his blade hard at me and would have sliced clean through my shoulder had I not leapt to one side, putting all my Phersu training to good use.
“Do you know how the gods will punish you?” I cried at him. He threw a glance at Chtomio’s lifeless body, slumped on his throne.
“That old fool was a traitor to the Red kingdom and to the gods. I have done their work for them. Once the Blacks take the city, my word will become law and anyone who disobeys me shall also be killed.”
So that was it. The attack on the city and the deaths of so many, all part of this evil monster’s plan to seize the Red kingdom for himself. He thrust quickly at me again with his blade. This time, there was no time to move out of the way and the blade pierced my shoulder, making me drop my dagger. It felt like a torch burning my skin.
Oris prowled towards me, taking a moment to savor his advantage. “Actually, why wait for the guards and let them have the pleasure?” He raised his sword.
“Father!” a voice screamed from behind us.
Cestia moved through the doorway. As she made across the room for the throne, Oris turned towards her. He was distracted for only the briefest moment, but it was enough. I was quicker and powered by a rage I had known only once before, when I had seen the Eldest with my Mother. I kicked his sword right out of his hand. Then, in one movement, I swooped for my dagger and brought it up and in to him in a hard arcing motion. I plunged the blade deep inside, drawing him near to me as I did, to make sure that my eyes, burning with vengeance and fury, were the last things he saw in this world.
“What have you done?” screamed Cestia running towards me as Oris fell away to the floor. She punched me hard in the chest and shoulders, slapped me in the face. “Answer me!”
Before I could even think of what to say to her, a deep, rumbling roar rose up all around and the room began to violently shake. Bricks began to fall out of the walls around us and beams were dislodged from the ceiling to collapse in a cloud of dust. I gasped for air as the force of the thundering explosion smacked in to me, propelling me away from the throne. All around me, pieces of stone went falling. The golden throne toppled off its dais and on to Chtomio, pinning and crushing his body. I looked around for Cestia but could see her nowhere.
“Cestia!”
My ears were ringing and my head throbbed. All around me was dust and smoke. I dropped to my knees and crawled along the floor, calling out for the princess.
“Cestia!”
Then came another fiery blast, this one even fiercer and more brutal than the first. More bricks were punched out of the wall and this time the floor beams beneath my feet began to shake, bend and then finally crack and open up. The entire castle shook all the way down to its stone foundation. I could see clear to the sky through a huge gaping hole in the wall. I could hear the roar of the Black Army and terrified screams echoing from every corner the city.
I finally saw Cestia lying near the ruined wall. I went to her and saw that her mask had fallen off. Dust covered her face, but she was still breathing. I was so relieved when she began to cough and breathe that, for a moment, I forgot my own dire situation.
I heard footsteps approach and make their way in to the room. Then a voice through the choking smoke cried “the King has been murdered! The King is dead!”
What was I to do? Cestia was not going to believe a word I told her so I couldn’t stay. But where was I to go? My choices were limited and none of them were appealing. Fight my way past the guards or leap through a hole in the world and take my chances on a soft landing?
In a split-second decision, I scrambled through the hole that had been blasted in the wall and jumped. As I fell through the air, I had no more than two beats of a heart to remember how we had been taught to land and roll in our physical tests at the seminary. I hit the ground heavily, but managed to dissipate the impact by rolling out of it. I got to my feet and made a dash for the far side of the garden and the grotto. Once inside, I headed for the passage that led back down to the burial ground in the cave of steaming pools.
I wormed through tunnels and passageways, feeling the earth jump and shake with every new cannon volley from the Black siege towers. Rocks dropped from the ceiling around me. I knew they could trap me inside the caves, where I’d either be squashed or die of suffocation. I neared the lagoon that led out into the open sea. I plunged in and moments later breached the ocean’s surface to tread water. The salt burned my wounded shoulder. As I gasped for breath, I saw above me that the great horned tower of the castle was falling! I swam as fast as I could toward shore. Huge chunks of stone splashed down around me, some missing by inches. After what felt like a thousand vigils I made it to land.
It was some moments before I had the energy to get to my feet. As I staggered along the beach, I saw the last of the Janis’ Tartans head out to sea. I prayed to the gods that Tiara was in one of them, but then I saw Daerec’s Tartan still beached on shore. I walked toward it. Behind me, the siege towers relentlessly pounded Samaris. Blast after blast thundered down from on high.
I passed the bodies of slain Janis lying on the sand. The Red soldiers were busy defending Samaris and the Janis had been left, once again, unprotected to face their fate. Two Black soldiers chased an old Janis towards the water. Though he tried to outrun them, he was old and feeble and never stood a chance. They tripped him, took a moment to savor the prospect of the kill, and as he begged for his life, they cut him in to pieces for nothing more than the sheer fun of an easy murder. My stomach sickened. These were not the Black soldiers I had known. They were not like my father. Something had changed, for my father and his legion would never have done such a thing. Nor was the surprise attack on Samaris something that would have been sanctioned by the Collective Laws. Nothing made sense anymore; Oris killing Chtomio, the Blacks killing the unarmed. Now the two Black soldiers noticed me and started running in my direction. I was still aching from the wound on the shoulder. Think Asheva! I said. I allowed them to get within two arms’ reach of me before I dropped to my haunches, scooped up a handful of sand and hurled it in to the eye slits of their masks.
Before they even had time to rip the masks off and clear the grit from their eyes, I had gone
at the first with my dagger and slit a hole in his throat. As the blood spurted from him and he fell to the sand with a satisfying thud I grabbed his sword and turned to the other. He looked at me, trying to decide whether he should run away or stand and face me. I made the decision for him. My pain and weariness lifted in an instant, replaced by a warrior’s spirit. When the Black soldier finally decided to charge me I gutted him like a pig, from navel to neck.
Moments later, I reached Daerec’s tartan, to find him hunched in the prow. We clasped arms.
“Where’s Tiara? Why aren’t you out to sea?”
“I’m waiting for Enyac. Have you seen him?”
I shook my head. “Tiara also should have been here by now.”
“I haven’t seen her, either.”
We left the boat and ran for the huts. The encampment was littered with the bodies of Janis adults and infants. My heart pounded. I could still hear the cries of battle in the distance. We ran from alley to alley, calling for Tiara and Enyac. There was no sign or sound of them.
And then we came across a pile of corpses loaded up in the doorway of a hut. On the ground next to it, I saw Tiara’s mask. I dove in to the pile, pushing the bodies aside until I uncovered her. Even then, as I wept the bitterest tears of my fifteen solstices I held out some hope that she might be alive. “Tiara?” I whispered. I rolled her over and spotted a small wound over her heart. I cried out in to the night. “I am sorry, little one. I am so sorry! I told you I would protect you and I failed!” I screamed so hard it felt as though my throat was filled with fire. The intensity of the pain and anger was unlike anything I had known; it nearly swallowed me up and in that moment I wished it would.
One thing was very clear to me now. The world had changed forever. The honor of the Black nation had been tarnished by the evil deeds of these soldiers. And though I might dearly have wished that the gods would punish them for a hundred solstices, in my heart I knew that they wouldn’t do a thing. They would remain in the heavens, aloof with their eyes turned away from what was happening below, as if it were no longer something that concerned them. Death continued to take its toll all around me, spreading like a plague, until I too became infected. It became the only thing I desired; death for me and death for the soldiers that had killed Tiara. I would kill as many as I could before finally embracing it. What happened next is cloudy, for reason deserted me. I know I no longer had my mask on. That much I recall. I wanted to look death right in the face.
I made my way to the statues of the Twin Gods. The Black catapults had decapitated the statue of the Goddess Adia and the fight had moved inside the city. I fought my way past swarms of Reds and legions of Blacks, hacking and slashing at whosoever stood in my way. The Red retreated, pushed deeper inside Samaris by the superior numbers of Black.
I moved through The Blacks like a reaper through the wheat, cutting down every soldier I encountered. They all died in bewilderment for they did not understand who I was, since I wore no mask or uniform. The Reds about me who saw did not attempt to stop me and some even helped me as I rampaged my way through the enemy. But their joy lasted but briefly, for I started killing them too. I killed for Tiara, for my father, for my mother. I swung my sword at their necks and plunged it deep in to their hearts and guts for the injustice that surrounded me, hoping it would somehow liberate the good from the evil. I was no longer a chrome. I was a mad beast whose only desire was blood. My clothes and face were drenched in crimson. It ran down the blade of my sword and flowed to the ground.
“There’s a demon amongst us — a Harlequin!” I heard someone scream.
The word spread like wildfire. A Harlequin was present on the battlefield! This created utter havoc among the fighters among both Red and Black. “Samaris is infested with Harlequins!” I heard a Black soldier cry behind me.
I turned and rushed him. “Come and kill me then, Black Chrome!” I shouted. My voice had grown hoarse due to my shouting and I saw that the Black warrior hesitated for a moment. The sight of me must have been a horrific spectacle: a mad demon, his face stained red with blood, grinning as if to welcome death. Other warriors made way for me — no one wanted to fight the Harlequin.
“I’m not afraid of you!” he shouted, completely terrified. “You will die along with all the other Harlequins!” In a wild frenzy of fear he charged at me, taking me by surprise with his speed and force. I lost my guard and he stabbed me through my heart. I looked down and saw the blade cut through my clothing and sink deep in to me. I didn’t feel a thing. No blood spilled out. The warrior removed his sword and stared in awe.
“He doesn’t bleed! The Harlequin doesn’t bleed!” cried someone else.
The Black warrior and the others began to back away from me.
“He’s a demon! He’s not alive! He must be the Red Harlequin! The most powerful one!” murmured another Black.
They started to run away. I felt my chest and underneath my clothes until I found the familiar shape of my Black mask. The one I had carried all this time on me, on my heart — it had saved my life. Everything became clear. There was not a doubt in mind that this was a message from the Gods. They wanted me to live. That was the way to honor my loved ones; not to kill, not to die but to live my life for them. It was a moment of awakening.
I knew what to do.
I picked Tiara up in my arms and drifted on through the battle like a ghost. It was as though I had the protection of the gods. No one could have come close to me even if they had dared. A path cleared before me as I made way from the gates and back to what remained of the Janis encampment so I could bury my young friend at sea before any scavengers got to her.
Her body was light. As I carried her toward the waves I realized I’d stained her with blood from the battle. I washed myself in the sea and began to cry all over again. I slipped my mother’s medallion around her neck and prayed to all the gods to take good care of her. Then I placed her body on a wooden plank from the beach and walked it out into the sea. The waters were calm. “Farewell, little one,” I whispered. “Run to your mother and father on the other side.” I watched in silence as the tide carried her small body away, praying that beyond the horizon, she would finally arrive into the safe embrace of Adio’s arms.
A short time later, a Tartan rowed to shore. I heard Daerec calling to me from it. With him I recognized Xai, Oghale and Yanetz amongst a number of other merchromes.
“Did you find Enyac?” I asked him. He did not answer and I understood.
“I was wrong and Enyac was right,” he then said. “This land will become our burial ground if we don’t leave. We want you to lead us away from here, Asheva.”
“Then take off your masks – all of you. And never wear them, again.” I commanded. “For life should not be faced in masks but looked at, square in the face by free chromes. Today you die as chromes and as Janis. But you are about to be reborn… as free Harlequins!”
18. Escape
And so we sailed away from Samaris, away from the battle. We no longer wore masks on our faces; we had made our choice. The world of the chromes was one of decay and despair. There was nothing left for us but to become Harlequins. I was still not sure if what Chtomio had told me about them was true or not. But even if there was only an ounce of truth in the legend of these free spirited chromes, then all the more reason to emulate them.
As the breeze filled the sails of our tartan, I felt free for the first time in my life. Free from the chromes, the lies of the Collective Laws, and the awful myths that caused so many wars and so much suffering.
But freedom, I soon learned, came at a price. The moment news spread that none other than the Red Harlequin had made his way into Violet territory, fast approaching Papylia, the Violets used their knowledge of their land to work it against us. No sooner had we landed on the Violet shore and left our boat, that a suffocating, acrid, yellow-colored smoke closed in around us.
“I can’t breathe!” shouted Daerec. We struggled to remain on our feet. I began to feel
dizzy and heard others throwing up. The smoke thickened until I could barely see a thing. Then I remembered the time Jhute had told me about yellow Calova seeds the Violets burned to fight off invaders. He also told me the remedy: mint leaves. I knew the woods near the seashore were full of them, but in order to get there we had to pass through the Calova smoke.
Luckily for us, the wind dispersed long enough for us to catch our breath and see beyond the yellow curtain. The woods were not far, perhaps twenty rods or so. I spotted some Violet chromes setting about making a new fire. Their masks had abnormally long noses, designed to protect them from the fumes. Jhute and Zimdie had also told me how those special noses stored special herbs which acted as an anecdote to the poisons they used.
“This way!” I shouted to the others. “We have to get to the woods!” I grabbed the nearest chrome to me by the arms and dragged him onwards with me. One by one they all followed me. I found a mint plant and passed around its leaves to everyone. “Find these leaves! And eat them! Quickly! It’s the only way to survive!”
I hunted for other leaves and when I found them stuffed the whole lot in to my mouth, chewing hard on them. Almost immediately I began to feel better, as did the others. But within moments, the Violets closed in around us and began releasing hundreds of black and rose colored butterflies. “Die Harlequins!” they shouted. One of the Merchromes, Oghale, began to laugh like a mad Chrome. “What? They’re going to kill us with those?”
He held his arm out for the butterflies to settle on until it was covered. For a moment he carried on laughing. He turned to us. “See? How are butterflies going to-?” That’s when his eyes bugged out and he began screaming. “I can’t feel my arm and my legs!”
The more noise he made, the more butterflies he attracted until he was covered by them. We all stood frozen as we watched his body grow lifeless.
Kingdom of Deceit Page 8