Iron and Flame

by Alex Morgenstern

  A long red wound crossed the soldier’s face, his nose sliced and face expressionless, as if the heat of battle had muted his senses.

  From the corner of her eye, Alana saw Kassius closing in onto the other soldier, his sword had fallen on the floor, however Kassius went for his enemy’s wrists and landed a headbutt in the nose.

  In an instant, Aliya had cut that same soldier’s head and the blood splashed, staining Kassius’ forehead, blood pumped from his neck, and the body collapsed and clanked on the wooden floor.

  An enemy spear advanced, looking for Alana’s unprotected flesh. She jumped back, grasping the dragon blade and holding it forward in defence.

  The soldier closed in, she waved her sword to block, but the shiny spear tip circled around her, now she was vulnerable, the spear drew closer and she tried to step back, and felt the corner of the tower against her back.

  Suddenly, another spear pierced the soldier’s neck from behind. He opened his mouth wide as blood dropped from his neck.

  Alana sighed as the lifeless body fell forward. Aliya stood behind it with the blooded spear. She winked an eye at her.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Aliya ignored her, instead, she stared at the feet of the tower, where Kassara and Raxana fought, and she ran down the tower.

  There were definitely more than half a dozen soldiers, still fighting beneath.

  “Let’s go!” Alana said, putting her fear away, and grasping Kassius’ hand. He nodded, and both walked down the stairs. Alana counted, now, there were eight enemy soldiers against the two women below, the Gadalian warriors stuck to each other, forming a circle and attacking constantly, making sure the enemy didn’t form into a phalanx formation.

  Kassius was holding an Itruschian spear. As soon as their steps echoed on the wooden stairs, three soldiers turned toward them and looked at them like hunters stalking an easy prey.

  The soldiers used the phalanx technique. Both advanced with their shoulders together, spears pointed forwards on their right hands and shields on their left.

  “I’ve got it!” Kassius whispered, stopping halfway through the stairs.

  “What?” Alana asked.

  “Jump out!” Kassius screamed. Alana instinctively obeyed, as the soldiers were marching undeterred and stepping toward the tower. Alana and Kassius were already on the ground. Alana waved her sword at the soldier’s distracted side. She held the dragon blade in both hands and struck him.

  Sword and armour clanked. She clenched her teeth in frustration, she had not done any damage. The soldier retracted his spear and jumped back into the grass. Alana moved to his right, away from his shield, and swung her sword towards his neck. The soldier had lifted his spear-wielding hand, and got cut in the arm. But he did not flinch. Alana retracted the sword and attempted another attack in the hip, which the soldier blocked. The soldier stepped back, cutting the distance and attacked with a frontal spear thrust. Alana dodged, but felt the iron tip brushing against her clothes.

  Alana sighed. She had practised that move countless times that winter. She knew the soldier wouldn’t attempt anything new, as he was used to fighting in phalanx formations and nothing else.

  The soldier attacked again, she blocked, and strode forward, touching the rim of the spear with her blade. When she was close enough, she twisted her hips and hit the soldier’s neck. The blow opened up his skin and flesh, piercing through until it was halfway. A stream of blood poured like a fountain and the body collapsed on the grass.

  Alana sighed in relief and leaned on her sword. It was the first time she had won a battle in frontal combat, without recurring to trickery, and her enemy’s blood lay staining the short grass. Now, she could say she was a warrior, and yet, although she was satisfied with her skills, there was no joy in ending a life.

  She looked around. Kassius was panting on the side, the soldier also dead. Aliya stood next to him, and Raxana was kneeling on the floor next to Kassara. Kassara was down, with a faint stream of dark fluid staining her chest, and her black hair spread over the grass like a black sea.

  Alana gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth, and ran toward her.

  “Kassara?” she said, kneeling by her side.

  Kassara clenched her teeth. Alana noticed blood pouring from her collarbone, staining the white cloth beneath and her segmented breastplate.

  “It’s a spear wound,” Raxana said, leaning over her to examine the wound.

  “Will she be alright?” Alana asked, scanning her body. Kassara pressed her own wound with her hands, now stained with blood.

  “We’ve got to stop the bleeding,” Kassius said, close to them, and proceeded to take off his hemp shirt.

  “Raxana . . .” Kassara said, clenching her teeth. “Go scout the area, they will take care of me.”

  “Yes, Commander,” Raxana answered, almost instinctively.

  “Kassara, we cannot do without you,” Alana said. She looked into her dark eyes. Kassara had taught her everything she knew about fencing and strategy, and although the wound did not look terrible, she had heard of creeping infections entering through shallow cuts.

  “Alanka . . .” Kassara called her, like the people from her hometown called little children. She stretched her hand and grabbed Alana’s.

  “Kassara,” Alana said. “Hold on, you’re wounded, but . . . It doesn’t look so bad.”

  “Alana, tell her to sit, I’ve got to wrap this around her,” Kassius said, his green eyes serious under the abundant eyebrows.

  “Big magic man,” Kassara said, smiling through pain and looking at Kassius.

  “Please, madam,” he said. “You know how serious this wound can be, we’ve got to stop it and let you rest.”

  Kassara nodded and signalled Alana and Aliya to lift up her body. Kassara sat, leaning her head forward. Then, Alana untied her breastplate. The leather laces that bound it were on the back, and the armour fell forward, revealing her worn out tunic, the intricate designs on it were still visible, but on the back, they were stained with dust and wear. Kassara sighed in relief. The blood on her collarbone kept flowing down and filling her dress. Kassius wrapped his shirt tight from beneath her armpits. The cloth was immediately soaked with blood.

  “Hold on, Kassara, you will be fine,” Alana said.

  Kassius tied the edges of his tunic into a knot.

  “There are some herbs in this time of the year that can help her soothe the pain, we’ll look for them in the morning,” he said. “At least, there are no vital organs there, she will be fine.”

  “I’m finally going to join my husband Antanos in the Elysian fields,” Kassara muttered, closing her eyes, then taking a deep breath. “And my boy, Hirmas, after all this time. After the hell we’ve been through.”

  “Stop saying that, Kassara. You’re not going anywhere. Don’t even say it,” Alana said, grasping her hand tightly.

  “Don’t worry about me, Alka,” Kassara moaned.

  “We need you, Kassara, don’t go,” she insisted.

  “You won’t know what to do when I’m gone,” she said. “I’m sorry; follow Raxana.”

  “What are you saying? I need you by my side, we all do. Yes, we would die without you. Besides, we’re about to see the great endless steppe. You’ve been amazing tonight.”

  Alana couldn’t see her die. Why did everybody have to leave, everybody she knew?

  Kassara took a deep breath.

  “We better let her rest,” Kassius said. “I will write some sigils on her forehead.”

  “Do what you can,” Alana said, blinking, and hoping that maybe, the sigils would work.

  Suddenly, Alana heard the noise of steps on the other side and raised her head, alarmed. Two men marched towards them, their bodies covered in simple togas, their hair short, in Itruschian style, and their hands up in surrender. Their legs trembled in fear. Raxana was holding her spear up and walked behind them.

  “These two were the slaves
that worked for the soldiers,” she declared. “I found them in the kitchen.”

  The men remained with their heads down, they exchanged fearful glances.

  “Kitchen,” Alana said, noticing Kassius and Aliya had reacted the same way, even Kassara’s eyes lit. “Amazing!”

  “I will tell the others,” Aliya said, a wide smile on her face.

  “Good, a nice meal before departing, I really got my last with,” Kassara said, resting her face against the grass once again and shutting her eyes.

  “Don’t say that, Kassara. You won’t die today, not on my watch,” Alana stated, then turned toward the slaves. “Anything else?”

  “Alana,” Raxana continued. “They say a new group of soldiers will relieve these by the morning. If we bind them and leave them, they will tell them about us. We could kill these two also.” The men lowered their faces when they heard that, sweat dripping down their foreheads. “There’s a stable with horses, we can ride into the woods and avoid the soldiers if we leave soon enough.”

  Alana looked at the men straight in the eyes.

  “Are you willing to come with us to the steppe?” she asked. “You would both be free men.”

  “With barbarians? Nay!” said one of them, his hair was dark gold, and looked around twenty eight years old.

  “Avlix, it’s best for us.” His companion looked at him with disbelief, with his hands over his bald head. “Can’t you see? We’ll be free.”

  “It is up to you,” Alana said, severely. “You will have freedom. We are looking to avenge our decimated tribe. Innoce—”

  “No one is innocent!” Avlix interrupted her, then spat on the floor.

  “No one is, but we are trying to make a difference,” she declared.

  “We won’t get into details,” Kassius spoke from behind her, he had his arms crossed and his expression was severe. “We do not wish to kill innocent men—that is, you. We believe the gods have guided us so far. Thus, we shall not do dishonourable things. If you swear to join us, we shall give you life.”

  “Foolishness! I prefer to die!” Avlix frowned, clenching his teeth. “Innocent? What your people did to mine was far from innocent.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Alana said. “It was another time, and we had another leader.”

  Avlix spat again, and looked at her with a frowned brow and disdain in his eyes.

  “Avlix, you’re making a fool of yourself,” said the other, older man. “Listen to these people. They’re offering you freedom! Freedom from oppression, from fear, from having to obey a master who hates us and flogs us for any reason. Aren’t you willing to give anything for freedom?”

  Avlix snorted.

  “What should we do to you, then?” Kassius asked with a sombre face, he walked up to the slave and looked at him in the eye.

  “Kill me, as if my life had any worth.”

  Alana and Kassius exchanged a glance. Aliya and Raxana did the same, their hands on their spears, as if ready to execute any order.

  Alana shook her head.

  “We shall not kill you, if you want to live in bondage, you shall get what you desire.”

  “But . . .” he shook his head.

  “Just keep an eye on him,” she eyed Raxana. “And before we leave, tell them your friend was taken captive . . .”

  “Magic boy,” Kassara hissed from the ground. “You just told him where we’re going, you genius, and now you want to wrap him up as a present? Kill him and be done with it, or if you want to be Kassius the merciful again, just chain him up and take him.”

  Kassius clenched his teeth.

  “Keep your opinions to when they’re needed, general. That is, for battle.”

  Alana lowered her head. That scene, there, in that moment? Kassius was as red as an apple. He faced Kassara.

  “Madame,” he said. “Why do you think you got stabbed? We need the gods’ approval, and we can’t have it if we keep killing innocent people.”

  “Excuse me, boy, do you know anything about life?” Kassara snapped. “If you’ve come this far it’s because of skills. Praying won’t get an arrow through the enemy’s heart.”

  “We did perfectly fine without you! Alana even killed the governor, and she saved you!” he shouted.

  “Kassius, stop!” Alana yelled. She turned to Kassara, and was about to say the same thing, but she refrained herself. Was it because she was older?

  “We need both of you, so please . . .” she continued. “Don’t fight. It’s not necessary.”

  Alana turned towards the slave, as if expecting an answer.

  “Make your choice,” she ordered.

  “It’s all the same for me,” Avlix said, shrugging, but sweat dripped from his forehead.

  “Do you have anything to live for?” Alana asked.

  “Wine and women, food and drink, and I do not get much of that.”

  Alana took a deep breath. She really wanted to ask Raxana what to do. It was confusing. Everybody had different answers.

  “We do not kill men for no reason,” Kassius said. “Only if we are attacked. We have sworn that as our principle.” Kassius turned toward Kassara. “It is an oath that binds us to be protected by Ares. Once again, we are men and women who believe in the power of oaths.” He faced the slave. “We offer you your life, in exchange—”

  “Then you’d better kill me,” he giggled. “Be done with it.”

  “Avliz, no,” his companion said. “Why are you doing this?” Alana noticed moisture in his eyes.

  “It is better to end this, friend. Better death than treason to my empire, and my principles.”

  Kassius shook his head.

  Suddenly, they heard footsteps coming from the tower. Their comrades who had hidden beyond the walls were walking solemnly, guided by Aliya, now donning segmented armour taken from a dead soldier. Tor was holding the bear cub in his arms.

  “They’re all women . . .” Avliz commented, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you all women?”

  “The Empire killed most of our men,” Alana said. “Our fathers, husbands, and sons. Only a handful survived.”

  He twisted his lips.

  “You,” Raxana pointed her spear at him. “If you want to die, come with me. I won’t do it in front of your friend.”

  Avliz swallowed and got up slowly. He dusted off his tunic. Raxana pointed the spear at him, as his friend remained knelt on the ground, taking a last look at him. Alana lowered her head. She wished to stop it. Would they be foolish by trusting him to be quiet? But as Kassara had told her, in war, and being a ruler, she would have to change her perspective.

  Raxana guided the man back to the stable, where he faced her, his face twisted into a grimace of fear under the torches.

  “Please make it quick,” he muttered in the silent night, and his pleas were taken even to Alana’s ears.

  The ones who had recently arrived stared in confusion. Kassius remained with his head low, as if trying to cope with it.

  And Raxana opened the door for the man and stepped inside. Then, the door was closed with a bang, but even their steps were heard from within.

  “No, no, please forgive me,” the moans were heard from inside. “Please, I’ll do what you want, don’t kill me please!”

  “Coward,” said Kassara, getting to her feet, as if nothing had happened to her.

  Chapter III - Murder

  Florianus pulled down his hood and walked out of his newly built villa, to the outskirts of town, with six devotees behind him, all fellow army men, under the waxing moon and the humid springtime air. As he walked past the on-duty soldiers in their posts, they recognized him and saluted. They knew him even under the hood. After all, he was in charge of the place, and his responsibility started to weigh on him.

  The death of Governor Larius had been unfortunate, but it had been a sign, a chance for him to grow and fulfil his duty. A chance to change the world.

  The senate had not
assigned a governor, so he was in charge of the infrastructure and security of the Province of Thracia. He had a vision to fulfil, but it was not like that of other commanders and politicians. It was not about himself.

  The Empire had to grow, and for that, it needed to be as disciplined as a beehive, and its influence as wide as the sun over the plains.

  The Empire, and by extension he, had a divine mission, to grow and fill the earth.

  But the old gods that were praised in Itruschia were too divisive, too feeble. He, for one, believed in a new one, a new warrior god, the Killer of the Beasts, the Friend of the Rock, the Hero.

  He walked through the charred woods, lantern in hand, until he and the six who followed reached the shrine. He had ordered its construction two months earlier. It was small, surrounded by terracotta walls, and a tunnel that sunk into the earth. There, beneath the tunnel, the flame that never went out burned, and the priest who had come from the East sat cross legged in the centre, over a mat painted with solar designs. His hair was short, he wore a simple white toga and a grey beard descended to his chest.

  Florianus walked through the hall, his ears attentive at the soothing atmosphere, his eyes fixed on the mural on the opposite side—a great golden sun, its eight spokes shaped like lightning bolts of gold, casting light over a cyan sky, with golden stars at its edges. Other relief figures adorned the walls, representing the Hero, with a crown of sun rays over his head.

  “Welcome, sons of Sen,” the old priest said. His deep voice echoed, like a tune emerging from the underworld. “It is time to rise.”

  The attendees raised their fists and recited the formula:

  “Oh, you, luminous sun. Luminous son of blackness eternal, hero of time and ages, conqueror of the great dragon, you, who steps on the scorpion, you whose hair is pure light, obeyed by ravens, you, who chases the demons away, you, oh tamer of the bull in the sky.”