by Jeff Gunzel
“Oh, that’s quite enough for today, dear,” said Nima, brushing off the last chip. “We’ve made tremendous progress, and you’ve cleared the toughest test. Let’s start fresh in the mor—”
“No, wait,” said Jade urgently. “There is one more thing I must do. Please, you have to help me. I don’t know how to do this on my own yet.” In a subconscious act, she began rubbing her finger, the same one that once held her special ring—the only link she had between Berkeni and herself.
Nima just smiled, then sat back down on her pile of woodchips. “Have a seat, dear. Now give me your hands.”
* * *
The little man sprinted down the halls, slipping and skittering across the polished floor like a cat with no traction. He blew past Addel, who had to turn sharply in order to stay facing him. With her mouth hung open and one finger up in the air, the poor woman stood dumbfounded and speechless. Were they under attack? What was going on? “Quickly, follow me,” Berkeni called over his shoulder, but continued on at full speed.
The old woman took off with all the speed she could muster, which was considerably more than her former broken body would have ever allowed. However, it was still not enough to keep up with the shockingly spry old man.
He blindly whipped around a corner, nearly knocking one of the maids to the ground. She spun about as freshly cleaned sheets flew into the air. Watching the back of his head as he disappeared around the next corner, she sniffed and shook her fist in the air before picking up the mess.
Past the hanging silk tapestries and up the wide red stairway he sprinted. Down the hallway he went, past the thick, colorful, stained-glass windows with red curtains, spurred on by the warm happiness burning within him. He ran up to the large golden double doors, with black and green grapevines painted around the border. A swift, heavy kick allowed him entrance to the throne room as the doors sprung open, and a shocked queen looked up from her throne.
The beautiful woman’s eyes were red and bloodshot. Days without sleep? Days of nonstop crying? Most likely both. Deep lines of age seemed more apparent these days, as well as a shortened temper. In a gravelly voice, she rumbled, “You had better have a good reason for this intrusion, or by the gods, I’ll have you—” she stopped in mid-sentence, reading the little man’s glowing expression. Her lip began to quiver as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “My heart can take no more,” she whispered. “Please, tell me what I need to hear, or I don’t think I shall survive another day.”
Addel ran through the doorway, then bent over with her hands on her knees. She was unable to speak as raspy breaths came one after another. Berkeni approached the throne and dropped down to one knee. “Rest easy, my lady. I’ve found them.”
Chapter 11
Morcel leaned heavily against the blue wall, his massive arms crossed over his chest. His blank gaze looked to penetrate the white frosted-glass window, as if he could actually see outside. He, as well as the others, had seen quite enough of this room already.
Five standing oil lamps provided ample, soft light for the hexagon-shaped room. Large black bookshelves stood tall, segmented perfectly to fit flat against the six walls. Filled with thick, old, leather-bound books with pages yellowed from age, they remained a reliable link to a history, nearly forgotten. The white carpet had been recently removed, replaced with one designed with black and green checkers. Given the substantial traffic the war room had received as of late, a white carpet no longer seemed like a good idea.
Addel and Berkeni sat near the round oak table, sanded smooth as glass and stained a deep, rich amber. The two of them mumbled privately, pointing fingers at a wide spread of old maps. Addel was writing notes on a piece of parchment as they compared the old maps to Jade’s brief description of Shangti. Every few seconds, the old woman impatiently dipped her large white feather into a black inkbottle, before continuing on with her frantic scribbling. Their private conversation looked to be rather spirited, but that was nothing new.
Azek stepped into the room, turned, then held the door for Ilirra. Wearing a dark purple gown with white lace along the neckline, her commanding presence filled the room the moment she entered. Purple high heels made a muffled thump as she drifted across the new carpet. Her long, fiery, red hair spilled loosely over her shoulders, and flowed down her bare back. Green eyes gleamed with passion and life this day, a far cry from her dark demeanor as of late. She turned toward the door and snapped her fingers. The others caught a flash of red as her personal bodyguards spun about, then marched away.
The room went completely silent when she stood at the head of the table. With a slight hand gesture, the others filled in around the table while she remained standing. “No doubt you have all heard the good news by now,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Our companions were successful in their quest to find Shangti. They have beaten impossible odds, which means we still have a chance.” She pounded her two hands down on the table. “The Gate Keeper still lives, and it is now up to us to be as prepared as possible.”
Azek pushed his chair back, then rose to his feet before thumping a hand to his chest. “The men are doing all that we ask of them, and more recruits are signing up every day. Leathers filter in from both the east and west coast, lured by the promise of gold. We don’t question their motives as long as they’re willing to fight. Morcel and I work them hard, but they seem to respond well to the grind. When the time comes, they will be ready, my lady.” He gave a nod before retaking his seat.
Ilirra smiled. “Good, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” She turned toward Morcel. “Have you anything to add?” The big man remained seated with his chin resting in his palm, rubbing his fingers along the table’s surface over and over again. After a time, he just shook his head with a very bored look on his face, his bright green eyes fixated on the table. Illira frowned in response. “Very well then.”
“I have something that may or may not be of importance, but I do think this is the proper time to discuss it,” said Berkeni as he stood up.
“Very well, proceed,” said Ilirra, taking her seat for the first time.
The little man stood, looked up to the ceiling, then began to pace back and forth. “My original reports were brief and to the point, my lady. I told you only what I deemed to be most important at the time: that Jade had found a rather astonishing way to contact me, and reported that they had completed the journey.” He smiled at his own comforting words, relieved he hadn’t the group of friends to their deaths, as he had believed for so long.
Ilirra raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “So there are details you’ve failed to report to me?”
“Well...yes,” he admitted with a shrug. “It seems they have fallen in with some probable allies that may be able to help. It may be a bit early to call them friends, but I think we should still consider all our options. Especially when it comes to adding any possible manpower to our cause. Now, this is what we know of them so far...”
As Berkeni rambled on about Nima, Kelus, and the rest of the Takeri Clan, Morcel silently left the room without saying a word. Ilirra paid no attention to the rude act, as she was completely engrossed in Berkeni’s speech. However, Azek not only noticed, but angrily follow the big man out into the hall.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” shouted Azek as he followed the giant down the hall. “One does not just walk away during a meeting with the Queen, especially the Captain of the Guard.” Morcel kept on walking as if he didn’t hear a word. “Are you listening to me? Answer me...you dishonorable mercenary.”
Morcel stopped when he heard the slow hiss of cold steel being released from its sheath. The big man spoke without ever turning around. “So you plan to teach me a lesson in manners by sinking a blade into my back?” He chuckled to himself. “Believe me, you wouldn’t be the first to try that. I would happily introduce you, but I’m afraid they all sleep with the worms now.”
“First you insult the Queen, now you insult me with hollow threats, big man?” hisse
d Azek. “You’re hardly the only killer standing in this hall, but you might be the only one who brags about the lives you’ve taken.” He stood behind Morcel, his blade pointed between the big man’s shoulder blades. “And I’m afraid you’re in no position to be comparing me to your long trail of corpses. Last I checked, I still draw breath, and you stand before me at a disadvantage.”
“If you fancy to kill me, then either get on with it, or let me go back to my quarters. I will find sleep either way, so make up your mind,” said Morcel, his voice tired and distant. He heard Azek’s sword as it slipped back into leather.
“I have no intention of killing the finest warrior in these lands, but I do expect some answers.” Azek sighed, then turned his back on Morcel. “What is going on with you, big man? We’ve trusted you with a rather prestigious title. We’ve put our trust in you and your abilities, yet you seem to resent it.” He turned back, placing a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “As your ranking superior, but more importantly, as your friend, I’m asking you to talk to me.”
Morcel stepped forward as the leathery hand slipped from his shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore,” came his dry, emotionless voice. “I just don’t have it in me. From my earliest days, I’ve set the highest standards for myself. I’ve adopted a code of honor that drives me forward in life, but that strict set of rules applies only to myself.” He turned back to face Azek. “Yes, I am a mercenary, a sword for hire who will kill for the highest bidder, but you are wrong: I am not without honor. Honor is my curse, for no man can ever live up to my standards, nor am I capable of allowing men under my command any more leeway than myself. Since my standards are completely unreasonable, I am left with constant resentment.” He took another step toward the general, and looked down at the lean man. “I was born to kill, of this I have no doubt, but I was not born to lead.” His shoulders slumped in shame. “You are.”
Azek held the big man’s gaze for some time, considering his words carefully. “Your honesty was all I wanted, and I thank you for it. What I do now, is no more than a professional decision, based on the wellbeing of the kingdom. In no way do I think any less of you, and when the time comes, every man, woman, and child will be depending on you. We will need you to do what you do best: Send the enemy into the afterlife.” His dark eyes blazed as he drew his sword and drove the tip down into the floor, then crossed a hand over his chest. “Morcel Quaron, as your general, and as your friend, I hereby relieve you of your duties.” Morcel sighed with relief, then dropped to one knee, bowing his head.
* * *
It was late afternoon by the time Jade got back. Immediately, she knew something was wrong. There was Eric, sitting in a chair with a look of concern on face. He held up a rolled piece of paper without ever saying a word. She hurried over and snatched it from his hand.
Dear friends,
It is with a heavy heart that I write this. I must leave you now. I wish there was some other way, but this is the only option I have. The seed within me is not dormant, as we were led to believe. I remain a constant danger to you and everyone else in the village. The Circle told me so. For your own safety, I must leave to find an isolated place to live alone. I love you all and will never forget any of you.
Athel
Jade’s jaw dropped as she stared at Eric, crumpling the note in her hand. “Where did you—”
“She left during the night,” said Eric, raising an eyebrow. “It seems no one even noticed.” Jade looked down as guilt stirred in her belly. She had been so distracted this morning, it never occurred to her that Athel was missing. “Jacob is gone too.”
“What?” she said, looking around as if trying to verify Eric’s claim. “What are you talking about?”
Eric rose from his chair, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know exactly. When I woke up, that note was rolled up by the door. That’s when I noticed Jacob wasn’t here either. There is no mention of him,” he pointed to the note still crumpled in her hand, “but he has been gone all morning.”
“Do you think he went with her?” Jade wondered out loud. “Would he really just leave us like that?”
“Who knows?” said Eric, throwing his hands up in the air. “He has been known to be spontaneous, but to think he would just up and leave like that.”
“Why is this happening, anyway? What did the Circle tell her in the first place?” Jade ranted angrily.
“You’ll soon get the opportunity to ask them yourselves,” came a voice from outside. They turned in time to see the sliding door snap open. Amoshi stepped in, and five guards funneled in from behind. He was back to wearing his original black eyepatch and sleeveless vest.
“And just how long have you been listening in on our conversation?” asked Jade.
“Long enough to know your friend made the right decision in leaving,” said Amoshi. “Trust me, she is the least of your problems right now. The two of you have been summoned to stand before the Circle. A public trial has been ordered.”
“A public trial?” barked Eric. “What the hell are you talking about? We just lost two of our companions, we don’t have time for this.”
Amoshi inched his hand toward his white bow as the guards bent their knees, fingering their spears. “That decision is not yours to make,” he dropped his hand back to his side and sighed, “nor is it mine. I’m only doing what I was told. Please, come with me.”
“Fine,” said Eric angrily. “Let’s just get this over with. We need to search for our friends.” He marched to the corner and grabbed his sword. “Come on, Jade, get your things. The sooner we get back, the sooner we can start looking.”
“If you understood the nature of this trial, you wouldn’t be in such a hurry,” muttered Amoshi under his breath.
* * *
The march through the empty streets was quick and easy. Amoshi led the way, with the guards surrounding the two lovers.
“Where is everybody?” asked Jade. Even the homes looked empty, with not a soul in sight.
The answer to her question came soon enough, as the same wooden platform came into view. Every person in the village looked to be in attendance, but instead of white clothing and face paint, they now wore their standard attire. Eric could see the three members of the Circle sitting high up on the platform. Kelus was with them as well.
“Make way,” shouted Amoshi, waving his arms in circles. The people spread to either side, opening up a clear path as they approached. Jade was the first to hop up on the stage, but just as Eric started to follow, Amoshi grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close. “Good luck, my friend. I hope what they say is true.” Eric gave him a questioning look before jumping up and standing next to Jade.
The crowd was deathly quiet, save for a cough here and there. Kelus approached Eric, but absent was his usual smile. “I’m sorry, my friend, but this is no longer in my hands. The spirits now have the final say, and I hope they see the same man I see. Good luck, my brother.” He smacked Eric on the shoulder. “May the gods smile upon you.” As he moved away, he lightly grasped Jade’s shoulder. “Come over here and stand with me, dear. There is nothing more either one of us can do for him.” Eric gave her a reassuring nod.
Eric eyed the tin tripod holding a black pot with glowing embers scattered underneath. The thick, purple liquid rolled and bubbled slowly, each burst releasing a light, flowery scent. Wara rose, then moved closer to Eric. “Even the spirits suspect you might be the Shantie Rhoe. Tell me, do they speak the truth?”
Eric met the green-eyed woman’s gaze, standing silently while neither one blinked. “I know nothing of this Shantie Rhoe,” Eric said at length. A collective gasp echoed through the crowd. “When I awoke this morning, I was just a man, my body no more than flesh and blood. Put cold steel into my heart, and it will beat no more. I am no god, nor do I claim to be.”
“That was not the question,” said the toothless bald men as their heads dipped down, then up with a click. A muffled buzz reverberated throughout the crowd as they grew u
neasy with the building tension.
“How can I respond to questions I do not know the answer to?” Eric turned toward the buzzing crowd and drew his sword. The light buzzing turned into shouts of panic as flames erupted from his angry blade. “Is this who you want me to be? This Shantie Rhoe, who I hear destroys entire villages with no army to speak of? This madman who leaves no one alive to ever tell the tale? And what if I don’t live up your standards of greatness? Will it be someone else’s turn to wear this tarnished crown of pain?”
He turned back toward the circle with his sword raised high. Angry red flames pulsed up the blade, begging him to take as many souls as possible. It wanted to feed, and part of him wanted to oblige the hungry weapon. “Am I the Shantie Rhoe, you ask? Am I the Gate Keeper? Ask your precious sprits!” he shouted.
The roaring crowd was now on the verge of rioting. Rocks and sticks flew through the air as the guards assembled into a living wall at the front of the stage, trying to keep others from climbing up.
“So be it,” hissed Wara as she hurried back and sat between the other two. The twins clapped their hands then pointed their palms upward, releasing a scattered orange light into the air. “I’ve no doubt there is a demon burning inside of you,” said Wara as the mob backed off, captivated by the show of raw power seldom shown by the Circle. Lines of white mist floated up from the black cauldron, slithering about like snakes as the thick ooze rolled and bubbled violently. “You can lie to your friends about the blackness stirring within you. You can lie to yourself if it helps you sleep at night, but deep down inside, you know what you are...demon.”
The same old woman who had previously accused Eric for the loss of her baby grandson’s parents slowly made her way through the crowd, working her way to the front. “Grandol halla,” she hissed while pushing through. “Grandol halla, grandol halla.” Others around her began to repeat the phrase, quietly at first. “Grandol halla, grandol halla.” Then more and more began to join in, as others began to shout and pump their fists in the air.