by Rai Aren
In their nightclothes, shaking and holding one another, they did as he ordered.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ehrim asked, terrified. He saw the Royal uniforms.
Rekar took a step back, shaking. His heart beat fast as the scene unfolded before his eyes. He wanted to run. Fast. Far.
“We come to seek vengeance for the King,” Zhek stated, his voice rough and low. He saw the look of shock register on their faces. “He commands that you and everyone in this village are to be punished for your complicity in taking his daughter from him.”
“What?” Ehrim said, frightened and confused.
“But the King welcomed us into his home,” Uta pleaded, gripping her husband’s arm tightly. “He knows it was not us who brought her here. We did not even know who she was until recently.”
“It was not us who decided this thing,” Ehrim implored the stranger. “We are innocent!”
“Lies!” Zhek spat at them. “Your deeds are known. The King had Assan killed for his part in this and now he has decreed that you, too, must pay for your crimes. By Royal command, you and everyone in this village are hereby sentenced to death.”
“Wait, no…” Ehrim cried out, stepping in front of his wife.
She screamed.
Without hesitation Zhek thrust his sword into the old man’s belly. Ehrim gasped, holding the blade. Zhek pulled it out savagely. Ehrim fell to his knees, blood pouring from the wound.
Uta screamed in terror.
Ehrim collapsed.
Zhek pulled out his curved dagger and grabbed her hair. He slit her throat. She slumped to the floor.
“Burn everything!” Zhek ordered Rekar. Rekar grabbed the torches and oil and lit them, quickly sending the small home up in flames.
Throughout the tiny village, scene after similar scene played out as villagers screamed and ran for their lives, only to be mercilessly cut down, their homes burned to the ground. The marauders went through the village methodically, cruelly, efficiently, their purpose clear.
Not long after the slaughter began, it was finished. Derepet blazed hot against the cool night sky. Giant plumes of smoke rose higher and higher into the air, dimming the stars.
yyyyy
The group returned to Tessea, blood-soaked, weary and numb with shock from what they had done. The men bore the signs of a massacre, the once pristine uniforms stained, ripped and singed. They bore many injuries of their own, some seen, some unseen.
Zhek had a look of wild exhilaration on his face.
Rekar was in shock. None of it seemed real to him any longer, the terrified faces of the villagers, their cries for mercy, the sight of the homes burning, the sounds of their bloodcurdling screams as they were cut down.
Rekar returned home to find his house darkened. Zhek had wanted the group to gather and celebrate what he called their victory, but Rekar’s thoughts had been on his wife. He needed quiet. He needed to hold her, be comforted from this nightmare, have his own wounds tended, and fall asleep in her arms.
Zhek found Rekar a few hours later. Zhek was drunk from his celebrations as he entered the house. Rekar was on the floor in front of the fire, rocking back and forth, holding Shera, sobbing.
“What is it?” Zhek asked, stumbling towards them. Rekar did not answer, but as he neared them, he could see that Shera did not move. He clumsily bent down to touch Shera’s arm, but he recoiled. It was stiff and cold. He looked around the room. He saw the empty bottles of wine and the canister, which he knew held a poisonous herb they used to kill scorpions that found their way into their homes. It too, was empty.
“She did this to herself,” Rekar sobbed. “My beautiful wife, I should not have left her the way I did.”
“It was not your fault, Rekar,” Zhek said, staring at her corpse. He was numb to the loss of life now, even to one who had sheltered and befriended him for years. To him, this was just one more body. It meant nothing. “She made her choice to die in disgrace.”
Rekar screamed at him, enraged. He got up and lunged at Zhek. “You did this to her! What did you say to her before we left?”
Zhek grabbed Rekar, but stumbled in his drunkenness. He managed to throw Rekar off him before he fell. He got up quickly and drilled his fist into Rekar’s face.
Rekar fell backwards, clutching his bloodied nose.
“I only reminded her of where her loyalties should lie, to you and to our people,” Zhek shouted back, his words slurred. “And this was her answer,” he said, pointing to the body that lay on the floor.
Zhek left, slamming the door, leaving Rekar alone and battered with the memories of mass murder and his wife’s lifeless body as his payment for the deeds done.
Chapter 44
Raid, Present-day Egypt
THE paramilitary police smashed the door open with a battering ram. In quick procession, the armed men rushed into the house. They searched from room to room. Several shouts in Arabic signaled that the house was clear.
A masked paramilitary policeman came out of the house. The insignia on his shoulder indicated he was a senior member of the group. He approached the large police vehicle used as communications center. “We found a broken phone in the house.” He entered the vehicle and handed the pieces of the cellphone to Hans. “Could this be the phone we were trying to get a trace on?”
“Yes, Commander,” Hans said, examining the remnants of the phone. “This is it.” He clenched his fist around it, then threw the pieces down on a counter in disgust.
“It’s unfortunate we could not track their exact location before they destroyed the phone. It would have saved us some time searching every house in the neighborhood.”
“It is most unfortunate, Commander,” Maximilian said as he came up the stairs behind them. “We thank you for your efforts, nonetheless.” He eyed the broken phone.
Hans visibly tensed.
“There was something else,” the Commander said, “while in pursuit of the criminals, our radios cut out. We lost all communications. We had to vacate the area. It was too dangerous for my men to remain there or proceed without being able to talk to one another. We’ve never experienced anything like that before. Do you think they were able to jam our signals somehow?”
Maximilian’s eyes lit up, but he quickly tried to cover his reaction. “I can’t imagine how. Strange.”
“Indeed,” the Commander said, eyeing him curiously. “Our communications are back up now, but we lost the fugitives as a result.”
“Most unfortunate,” Maximilian replied, his German accent sharp.
“Yes,” he said, hesitating a moment. “Ah well, do not worry, Mr. Reichmann,” the police commander continued, “we will catch these terrorists. We will not let them get away with vandalizing your excavation site and terrorizing our airport.”
“Thank-you, Commander.”
He nodded and took his leave.
Maximilian grabbed the pieces of the phone and motioned Hans to follow him out of the command center. He walked to the edge of the yard. “I think I know what went wrong,” he said, placing a hand on Hans’ shoulder.
Hans was tense. He was afraid of the consequences of failing Maximilian again.
“Calm yourself,” Maximilian said. “I don’t think it was your fault this time.”
“What do you mean?”
Maximilian looked around to make sure they were out of earshot of anyone who might be listening. “The cellphone trace was working, they just weren’t on the line long enough to pinpoint their location to more than just a four-block radius. But after what the Commander just said, I think something else was going on.” He looked down at the phone.
Hans, perplexed, waited for him to continue. He was still feeling very edgy.
“I think it was the device they procured,” Maximilian said. “They probably had it with them, ver
y close to the phone, to not let it out of their sights. I think the energy it emits interfered with the signal. That’s why the ring was so full of static and choppy. We couldn’t get a clear connection. I believe that is what blocked the police radio signals, as well. It’s just too much of a coincidence.”
Hans was noticeably relieved.
“I hadn’t anticipated this,” Maximilian said, furrowing his brow. “I should have realized.” He thought back to the energy the disk and pendant gave off, and the accident a year and a half ago with the device that killed his spy. He was angry with himself, but this setback made him even more determined to get his hands on his prize. It was powerful, whatever it was.
“So what do we do next?” Hans asked.
“We have no way of contacting them now, but they know we still have their friends. That will motivate them.” His cold blue eyes glinted with determination. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 45
Derepet, Circa 10,000 B.C.
HOURS later, word reached the Palace of the massacre. The King was awoken in the middle of the night.
“Your Highness,” a Royal guard said. “You must come at once. Urgent news has been brought to the Palace.”
The guard led the King to a front sitting room where a villager sat waiting, under the watchful eye of two Royal guards. At once the short, thin man jumped to his feet and bowed. “Your Majesty.”
“He came from one of the villages in the north,” guard said. “Derepet.”
The King was taken aback at his appearance. The man reeked of smoke.
“Your Majesty,” the man said, looking up. He had obviously been crying. His face had dark black streaks on it. His clothes were tattered and dirty. “I had been sailing down the river on my way back to the main city after a couple of days of trading in the spice markets north of the village, when I saw black smoke rising into the sky.” He gestured with his arms, thrusting them in the air. His eyes were wide with fear. “I sailed closer…there was fire…everywhere. The whole village was on fire. I pulled my boat in towards the shore. I got out. I ran around the edge of the village. But it was hot…so hot. It burned. I could not get close. The fire was raging out of control.” He paced the room, shaking, crying. “I called out a few times, running here and there, but no answer came,” he said, shaking his head. “I did not know what to do!”
“Calm yourself,” the King said. He nodded to a guard, “Fetch him some food and water and fresh clothes.” He turned back to the villager. “We will also get you some medical attention after we are finished here.”
The man slowed his pacing. “I sailed as quickly as I could here, to bring help.”
“Please be seated,” the King said.
The man complied.
“Have you any idea what caused this?” the King asked. “Were there storms up there this evening? Lightning?”
“No, your Majesty, it had been a clear day and a cloudless evening. I cannot imagine what could have happened.”
The King’s face was grave. “Bring Commander Maraeven here,” he ordered one of his guards. “Tell him we will be taking a contingent of men to Derepet by boat to mount a relief and rescue mission as soon as we can gather the supplies.”
The man nodded and left. The King sent the villager off with a Royal guard to be looked after.
Traeus decided to wait until he had more information to tell Anjia of the news, but he did not have to.
“Daddy?” she said. She had stopped the guard that Traeus sent away and asked him where her father was. “What is going on? I awoke suddenly with a very bad feeling and now there is all this commotion here.” Her pendant had delivered her a stronger buzz as she slept, waking her instantly. Now seeing her father, she could tell something was wrong, terribly wrong. It was written all over his face.
“I do not have much time,” he said, motioning her to sit down next to him. He did not know how to begin.
Anjia’s sense of dread was growing worse by the minute.
Traeus looked at her, he took her hand, “I do not know how to tell you this, Anjia. There is a massive fire burning in one of the northern villages. We do not know for sure what has happened at this point.”
“Which village?” she asked.
Traeus looked at her, his face grave.
Her heart nearly stopped. “No, oh, no…”
He nodded sadly, squeezing her hand. “I am going there right now to assess the situation.”
“I must go with you,” Anjia said.
“It is too dangerous. We have no idea what we are dealing with there.”
“No, I have to see if they are all right!” she cried.
“Anjia, I promise you, I will send word back to you as soon as I possibly can.”
“I could not sleep tonight, I was restless. I kept getting up to stare out the window,” Anjia said. “I could not shake this bad feeling I had.”
“You should go find Mindara, tell her what I have told you. I do not have time to go back to speak with her.”
“Please help them, Daddy,” she pleaded.
“I will do everything I can,” he said as he kissed her forehead.
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The King accompanied by Commander Maraeven set out on the river in the Royal boats. Numerous smaller vessels, carrying relief supplies, healers, and weapons followed them. They did not know what state things were in, and they wanted to be ready for anything.
From a distance, the night sky was glowing an eerie orange hue. Traeus looked to the Commander. They knew what this meant. They were still far from the village, if they were seeing the glow from the fires at this distance, they must be raging and widespread.
As they sailed nearer to the village, they could smell the smoke. It permeated the air.
Traeus stared ahead. A sinking feeling grew within him. He watched the orange glow get brighter as the acrid smell of smoke grew stronger.
Finally, the King and his soldiers reached the shores of the village. The sight was unbelievable. The village had once been a tight knit community of craftspeople and farmers. Now, everywhere they looked, there were flames and piles of burned wood. Structures now unrecognizable. As Traeus and the Commander disembarked, they stood on the landing, speechless.
“Your Majesty,” the Commander said after a few moments, “we should look for survivors.”
“Yes, yes of course,” Traeus replied, still staring ahead at the devastation. “Send your men out at once. If you will accompany me, there is a home I wish to check personally.”
Maraeven nodded and quickly organized his men into search parties. He did not have to ask which home the King wanted to go to. Anjia had described it in detail to her father long ago, along with its location as the first home you came upon when reaching the village. Traeus had seen it. It had also been set ablaze, but the fire had already begun to die down. The King hoped he would find survivors there, a hope he knew was as faint as a wisp of smoke.
As they came upon the homestead, Traeus’ heart fell. The fire had died down because there was almost nothing left of the home. Only charred wood pieces sticking up from the ground indicated where once a house had been.