Iron and Flame

by Alex Morgenstern

  “This sword was made by a beginner. Steel, sturdy blade but clumsy execution. This sword is not older than five years.”

  The murmuring started again, Alana and Kassius looked at each other.

  “I do not deny we forged it, but we did so with instructions from the gods, and the jewel, the jewel was found by Kassius through his meditations. It was given in visions.”

  “An emerald. What’s special about it?” the blacksmith asked, handing it back with one hand. “Take your cheap sword back.”

  Тhe murmuring started again. The crowd shook their heads and commented with each other. She heard words of disappointment, she heard people calling them swindles and liars, being repeated. One by one, the crowd turned their backs on her.

  “Wait!” Alana yelled “It’s all true!”

  “Listen to her!” Kassius screamed behind the crowd. The council also disbanded, and shortly after, there were only a few people left, including the woman with black hair who had winked at Alana.

  Alana looked around, Varalkas was glaring at her, his arms crossed.

  “That was very low. A fake?” he snapped. “We thought the vice of swindling had not come to Gadalians.”

  “No! It’s not what you think!”

  “We know you people are desperate, but this.” He shook his head, with a disgusted frown on his brow.

  Chapter IX - The Fallen

  Askar felt a throbbing pain in the side of his head, and warm fluid soak his neck, as he sprung up from his defence, grasping his spear, he thrusted it at a blond barbarian.

  From the corner of his eyes, he saw the Suevians lunging at his comrades with their weapons of war.

  Next to him, Elkas drew his sword and swung at their opponents. An enemy spear went for his side, and he dodged with a movement of the hips, he twisted his body and waved the sword at his attacker. The barbarian parried with the pole of his spear.

  The pain on Askar’s side became numbing, he growled and clenched his fists. He felt it with his fingertips. It had brushed on his skin, and cut through his skin. But it was not too deep, and it had not touched any vital points.

  His instincts kicked in, and he blocked a sword with his shield, then countered with his spear. It penetrated his enemy’s stomach. He kept pressing forward, impaling him in it.

  Another barbarian attacked him, he pulled the spear back, while he blocked with his shield. The enemy lunged forward, the bronze tip of his spear menacing to pierce his ribs, but Askar aimed higher, stepped to the right and pushed his way into the soldier’s neck.

  Next to him, Adna had killed two barbarians with his lance, he had wounded two other, their other comrades had incapacitated the rest, and now there were only two barbarians standing. The legionaries advanced with their spears and shields forward, surrounding them. The barbarians dropped their axes and spears, and fright sparkled in their eyes.

  “Askar!” Elkas approached him, as Askar kept his hand on his neck. In the heat of the battle he had swallowed the pain that was becoming unbearable. “You’re wounded, brother!”

  Askar kept covering his ear, feeling warm blood drenching from it.

  “It’s just a flesh wound,” he answered.

  “Put something around it!” Elkas shouted. “It’s not deep, but I’ve seen lighter ones get infected. You, Ignatius!” He called the one who was carrying the healer’s bag. “Come over here and cover his wounds. And iron it first.”

  “Aye, Decurion!” Ignatius responded.

  The two barbarians remained with their gazes low. But Askar could perceive the hatred in their eyes, as Ignatius wrapped a long gauze around his neck.

  “You scum!” Elkas exclaimed, pushing one of the barbarians. The man fell on his buttocks, and remained there, with fear in his eyes. “You have no honour, I should execute you both. Now you will be taken to our camp and . . .”

  “I am sorry!” one of them cried, raising his face, in a coarse accent. “I really did not want them to do it, but they did not believe me.”

  “Now beat your friends when it comes to cowardice!” Elkas said, walking toward the man, bending his back and breathing in his face. Elkas unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the man’s neck.

  “But please . . . No! Don’t kill me,” the man clamoured, joining his hands to beg. “I have a wife and child. I know about the giant; I saw him, I saw him!”

  “What about the giant?” he asked.

  “I was at the village when it happened. It leaped through the air, from the forest, and fell next to the village. Then, he jumped again, we saw him when we were tilting our land, we . . .”

  “I’ll see if you’re telling the truth. Tell me, what did he look like?” Elkas asked him, keeping the sword against his neck.

  “He . . . Like the colour of limestone, its bones could be seen. Then we went to see where he had been, and there was a big hole.”

  “Where is that village?” Elkas asked.

  “North!”

  “Good! This is what we’re going to do!” Elkas sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold glance. “We’re coming back, in peace, so you better not do anything. We will come with fifty men. no harm to you and your people if you let us be.”

  ***

  Convincing the rest of the headless legion was not easy, but they did it. Elkas gathered at least twenty five soldiers and they marched into the forest that very day, when the sun rose to its zenit, and they advanced, following the two Suevian men whom they had spared.

  The village was beyond the forest, guarded by a wooden wall that rose sixteen feet high, right behind it, there were ditches guarded by wooden spikes. A wooden bridge led into the main gate. Askar saw the Suevian men, who wore capes of blue, bare chested, their loins were covered with skirts and their hairs and beards were long and untrimmed, with a small bun of hair bound on the side of their foreheads. Some of them, the wealthiest ones, wore ornaments of gold and silver. The women wore long clear skirts and colourful blouses and brooches of silver that hung around their bosoms. The inhabitants glared at them, like pestilent bugs disturbing their health, murmuring curses and spells in their harsh tongue.

  “This way!” The man guided Elkas and the rest of the legion up the hill, into a moor covered in heather. There, they found a hole in the ground, similar to the one where the Giant had landed, next to the wall.

  “This is what you’ve brought us for?” one of the soldiers who had joined the company asked. “We saw the same ones right next to the walls.”

  “We can follow him,” Elkas responded. “We have to walk the same distance and find him.”

  “This is a waste of time,” the soldier continued.

  “You already came with me, now let’s get rid of that creature for good. He killed our centurion. It’s only a creature, we surely can deal with it.”

  “This is a joke.” The soldier shook his head, and turned around, giving his back to the Elkas.

  “Let us press forward into the woods once again, northward,” Elkas calmly said. “We have covered quite a distance in only a few hours away.”

  “Let’s go,” Adna said.

  “For now, men, do what you will,” Elkas said to the group. “I am going up, you may follow me or remain where you’re at.”

  “Listen,” Karvatis, the one with the deep black hair and blue eyes, said. “If we’re out too close to the sunset, we’ll come back, we have a post to guard.”

  “That’s fine,” Elkas said. “We shouldn’t take that long. It’s barely morning.”

  They descended from the moor and passed by the wooden walls and the ditch, full with wooden poles and spikes. As they crossed, they encountered old women who threw turnips and onions at them.

  “Killer!” they heard from their toothless mouth. And so, they had indeed killed that very week, but they did not change who they were, nor their intentions.

  When they crossed over to the other side, where the northern wall of the village was protected
by a creek. They saw a rider approach in a haste. Even from such a distance, Askar noticed his unnatural pale face, as if sick or terrified, contrasting with his dark brown hair and the Suevian knot on his forehead. He wore a simple tunic, and a golden necklace with the sigh of a hammer. The man stopped abruptly next to the guards, just as Askar was passing by.

  “Hitaria! Hitaria is no more!”

  “What are you saying?” their guide asked.

  “It has been destroyed!” the rider shouted.

  “Destroyed, by whom?”

  “We know not, but it was monstrous, it was vile . . . We must gather our troops and march!”

  Elkas seemed to catch notice of what was being said. He turned around and strode toward the guards.

  “What happened?”

  The messenger pulled the reins, and his horse stood on two legs, delivering an angry neigh.

  “What is this imperial soldier doing here?” he asked with a frown, and spat in the ground.

  “We mean no ill,” Elkas clarified, looking straight at the messenger’s blue eyes “We are looking for a monster that was seen yesterday, he leapt up into the air, moving northward.”

  “What monster does he talk about?” the messenger asked the guides, not addressing him directly.

  “I saw him too,” one of the guides stated. “It was taller than the evergreens, maybe as tall as a mountain. Its flesh like rocks carved into a menhir with a monstrous face.”

  The messenger scratched his chin. He stood silent, hesitating.

  “You, foreigners, go north, if you wish, but you will not like what you will find up there. Search for your monster, and know that ye shall not come back. Nothing was left standing. Men, women and children were stomped without mercy, their limbs torn and crushed like insects under boots,” the messenger declared. His voice broke, his expression was wry, and a shade of agony distilled from his eyes. “If you go up, if you encounter it, you shall die.”

  The legionaries looked at each other.

  “Elkas,” Askar muttered. “He is right, we may not return.”

  Elkas took a deep breath. “But you all say the creature came here, we saw its footprint. But why, then, did it not touch this village? Was there any survivor?” he asked, ignoring Askar.

  “There were,” the messenger stated. “A few men, wounded, but their words were screams of madmen, and those consumed by fear.”

  “Let’s go,” Elkas said, glancing at his group.

  “Are you mad, Elkas?” Adna stood in front of Decurion, he put his hand on his chest, like any good friend would. “Listen to them. Did you hear Elkas? He killed the Centurion like he was an ant. I don’t believe our arrows can hurt him. Nothing can!”

  “Let’s take a look. Let us see what he did, and maybe, from there, we may find their weakness.”

  “I am sorry,” Adna said. “But Elkas, you are taking this wish of yours to earn the phalera too far. You can still be brave and demonstrate valour, you can earn your damn medal without being suicidal. Did you hear the man? One beast against a village, and only wounded remained. Maybe damned souls who barely survived. I guess those were not just peasants, they must have had sentinels, guardians, soldiers!”

  “I am not saying to engage, Adna. Listen, any report from our side would be useful.”

  Another soldier cleared his throat.

  “This is suicide.”

  “Once again, if you wish to leave me, you may. I would go alone, for all I care.”

  Askar considered leaving, anyway, if they were to encounter the creature, they were dead. He did not want to die, no matter what, he had a loving wife and a child soon to come.

  Elkas looked at the messenger. “Are you delivering your message to the mayor of this town? If you do so, please tell them we wish to venture north. If anyone wishes to explore with us, we shall respect and protect them.”

  After an hour, although some left the company, Adna, Askar and most of the group agreed to keep going. A group of Suevian warriors decided to join them and see what had been done to their relatives. It was, at the end, forty five men, twenty three Gadalian and twenty two Suevian who marched up through the forest that day, armed to the teeth, searching for a giant.

  Chapter X - Sisterhood

  “Alana, now what?” Irema saaskedid, tears flowing down her reddened face. Her green eyes twitched. “My mother is still in the village. How can I rejoin her now? What can we do? You’ve led us this far, away from her and all the ones we love. Now what?”

  Alana shook her head, holding Irema’s hand. But she pulled her hand away, and turned her face to the side, wiping her nose with her palm.

  “Irema.” Alana murmured, leaning in. “We’ve been through much worse. You can’t let this defeat you. I am doing everything I can, believe me, there’s nothing more important in this world for me. Just be patient, we will find a way to get back and free them.”

  Irema panted. “I have lost everything,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Now, the only thing that’s left is my hope of seeing my mother again. Don’t take that away from me.”

  Alana sighed. “Irema, you know me, you know my only concern here is for us to reach our goal. To see our loved ones again and retake our land. It’s not my fault that they don’t want to help us, but we’ll find a way.”

  “But how long? How?”

  “Irema. Are you losing your faith in me?”

  “I just want to know.”

  “I wish I knew, just give me some time.”

  Irema looked down. “I will go back myself, it doesn’t matter if they kill me,” Irema said, wiping her tears for one last time.

  “Just trust me, Irema,” Alana said, extending her hand, but her best friend turned away and walked out of the tent.

  The curtain opened, Raxana walked through, wearing a long tunic and trousers, but Alana’s mind remained fixed on her friend. That hurt. Seeing Irema like that felt like a boulder hanging from her neck. And it was all up to her.

  She was confident that there was a way to fight and win, but it was damn hard to know how. Maybe gather the few who did want to help her and ride with them, even if they were five or six.

  “Alana, someone wants to see you,” said Raxana.

  Alana clenched her teeth, thinking again that a villager would scold her or call her father traitor. She was fed up with that. They didn’t know anything about him. How could they decide if he was a traitor or not? She wished she could prove the entire world wrong. They didn’t understand. They had not gone through what she had, and not even she could decide whether she could judge her father. All she knew was that he died with sword in hand.

  Alana rolled her eyes, but nodded at Raxana and followed her out. The sky was purple, the sun setting in the plains, becoming smaller and orange like an egg’s yolk. Venus could already be seen on top, and below, among the yurts, Alana recognized the black-haired woman who had smiled at her. She was wearing a purple coat, dotted, with fur trimmings at the edges, and hemp trousers with vertical beads on each side.

  Alana lowered her head.

  “Alana? Alana daughter of Alan?” the woman asked,with wide blue eyes and a silly smile.

  “At your service, ma’am.”

  The woman chuckled, her freckled cheeks revealed small dimples. “It couldn’t have been more obvious. Would you come visit me in my home?”

  “Your home?” Alana raised an eyebrow and glanced at Raxana, who stood with arms crossed and a suspicious smile on her face.

  Alana cleared her throat. “I am afraid I don’t know you. Who are you?”

  “My name is Ira,” she said, widening her smile even further.

  “Ira?” Alana narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

  “I knew your parents,” she announced with a slight nod.

  “Ah, good.”

  “So, please.”

  “Thank you,” Alana said, eyeing Raxana, who gave her a nod.

  Ira and Alana wandered
through the camp. Ira bobbed her upper body a bit as she walked, and her legs were arched, as any experienced rider.

  Ira lived on a wide yurt surrounded by a movable fence. A white horse pastured freely behind the wooden beams, and a long rope hung from one side of the fence to the yurt, where half a dozen hemp jackets and trousers hung to dry.

  “Come on in,” she said with a smile, opening the fence. “It’s simple, not like the houses your people built, but it’s home.”

  “It’s wonderful,” Alana said, following her.

  “I’d like to introduce you to my friend Tistriya,” Ira said, prancing through the yard, and the white horse reacted immediately when hearing his name, approaching her with its ears forward.

  “Hello boy.” Ira presented her hand. Alana caught a glimpse of a small cube in her palm, perhaps hardened honey or some kind of candy. The horse licked it off her hand. Ira then petted his forehead with one hand. “He used to be the fastest, now he’s a bit out of shape.”

  “The fastest? I guess you were in the war.”

  “I did, but I was not a soldier. I was a messenger. Chieftain’s messenger.”

  “Chieftain?” Alana asked, opening her eyes wide. “The great Skapasis?”

  Ira giggled.

  “Great? Is that how your father called him?”

  “Eh, my father . . . My father did not talk much about him, but my uncle did.”

  “And I wonder why . . .”

  “So you know him, and my mother?”

  “I did,” she said, without removing her glance from the horse. She petted him again.

  “What was my mother like?”

  Ira turned slowly toward her.

  “A great leader, a brave woman and a cunning warrior.”

  Alana smiled.

  “You look just like her,” Ira continued. “Just your head is shaped like your father’s. You’re an exact mixture of both, in a way.”

  “Okay, thank you, I guess.”

  “So, come on in, I’ve got a lot to show you,” Ira said, guiding into the yurt. Alana heard an animal noise and peeked through the side before entering, she noticed two smaller horses and a goat behind the yurt.