Iron and Flame

by Alex Morgenstern

  It was so simple, it had been in the back of his mind forever.

  “The laws of the universe are fixed,” the Elder said. “Many are the laws, but among one of them, the greatest is the law of mass. Nothing can be taken from noting. No flesh, no earth, no power. The earth and sky sprung from an aether, they were shaped out of their initial chaos. Thus, it is also with power. A sigil is just a way to conjure the energies of the universe, its power, its magics, but to give them power, to access that power, you must give something equal to that which you desire.”

  That concept sat in Kassius’ mind.

  “Part of it is belief,” the priest muttered. “But belief alone won’t take you anywhere. Will, is the gift the gods have given us. Power to act, and action is what brings the magic. Sacrifice, struggle.”

  Kassius nodded.

  “It was not just the belief that the Sword would be found. The Sword of the gods came by not by chance, not by belief, but by your will and action. That of you and of your wife.”

  “Indeed,” Kassius said.

  “And so, that is the power of magic. The word, coming from the Ancient East, is related to the word might. That has been taught to me by the Magy of Parzia, the mighty. And it relates to anything you want to achieve. Your will must be unfettered, Your belief must be impregnable and your action must be precise.”

  “So will it be,” Kassius nodded.

  “Now, raise your hands to the positions of power, and receive their light.”

  Kassius took a deep breath and lifted both arms in front of him, one, he placed above, the other, palm down. Then, he recited the magical formula.

  “Oh, great stars above.” His eyes faced forward, around them, two young priests in golden robes chanted. Its sound reverberated, hemp smoke filled the yurt.

  “The second law, as above, so below,” declared the priest. To Kassius, those words were related to astrology, and he had only a superficial knowledge of such art. He knew he had to be aligned with the will of the gods and stars above in order to manifest his purposes. And by then, his purpose was clear, he had to become a master of magic to defeat both the Empire and the giants.

  “Gods, of the sky, grant me visions!” he cried, and then, it happened, his vision was open, he felt as if being shot from a crossbow, straight up into the sky, as if ejected from the world and cast into a world of shapes and dreams, even the throat singing that had filled the room became too faint to be heard, instead a magnificent stillness whirled around him. Images passed through his mind, of people suffering, of giant monster-men roaming the earth, but above all, of the earth extending like a tree, its roots sinking down to the depths of the mountains, and its branches reaching up. He gathered his consciousness and begged, how to defeat the Empire.

  And images raged inside.

  He saw fire.

  He felt shackles around his neck, he opened his eyes, he was once again in Adachia. He saw death, burnt yurts, dead men and women. His friends imprisoned, Alana delivered to their torturers. He saw giants, an army of them roaming the woods, marching through villages with flaming roofs, women hiding their children, men being stomped by ants. He saw the emblem of that ancient sect, he saw the dragon emblem burnt to the ground once again.

  He saw the entire world bowing down, to an idol of gold an emerald, in a vast desert of snow and ice, he saw great cities turning to ruins, its once glorious inhabitants begging for scraps.

  Death. Alana, his wife and pride of his existence, surrounded by cruel executors in strange, unearthly clothes, her teeth clenched in agony, in death.

  And he screamed. His body collapsed forward, his legs trembled, his neck staggered, and he panted like a hanged man. His fists clenched as he staggered to his knees, cold sweat drenching his skin. The throat singing had ceased and the Priest of Jupiter was pale in front of him.

  “I . . .” Kassius said, breathing heavily, his hands shaking.

  “What did you see?” The Elder asked. “I . . ..”

  “I saw . . . Hades . . .” His breath was growing even more desperate, he tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Please, that cannot be true, that cannot.”

  The Elder took a deep breath.

  “I had seen it many days ago, it was hard for me to take it in.”

  “But . . . But . . .”

  “Kassius, stand up and walk with me outside.”

  Kassius shook his head.

  “Come on,” the priest straightened his body and pulled Kassius by the arm. He sprung up and leaned forward, feeling he was about to fall.”

  “Why . . .” he said, unable to articulate. “Why . . .”

  “It all came to you too quickly. All at once.”

  “But you knew!” Kassius growled. “How . . . How come you did know all about it and did not tell me . . .?”

  “Because I have seen both sides, I have mourned for days, but I trust.”

  “That is foolish, I do not want my life to end! I do not want to lose my friends, I do not want to lose her. And the world . . . The world will burn.”

  The priest took a deep breath.

  “Who says you will lose?”

  “We will all die! We will all be captured, tortured, we will fall into their hands.”

  “And who says you will lose?”

  Kassius panted.

  The priest went on.

  “You may even win in death. I have seen it, it is not fate, but struggle. No matter the pain, no matter the struggle, right will triumph at the end, but if it does not give up.”

  “You sound like an Itruschian soldier.”

  “Fight, keep fighting, keep your sword raised.”

  “Is there any . . . Is there a chance that it will not happen that way?”

  “Maybe.”

  Kassius tensed his fists, the veins of his forearms pumped and blue.

  “I must, I must not let it happen.”

  “Come with me,” the priest wrapped an arm around him and helped him straighten up. The two other apprentices stood up, and he helped him walk outside. There, out of the tent, a field of stars covered them from above. “Here,” the priest said, pointing upward, toward the constellation of the Hero, the three stars of his belt shining bright, sword in right hand, shield in the other. “Look up at the hero.”

  Kassius took a deep breath, as if oblivious to the story unfolding before him. “There, look at his sword, this, Venus is passing through its orbit, and so is Mars.”

  “What?”

  “This is why I believe in the Sword of Ares.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “In a few years, both Mars and Venus will align one after the other, meeting exactly in the hilt of his Sword. Then, the Hero will be face to face with the Beast.”

  Chapter XVII - Bear Queen

  Alana stayed in the biggest yurt she had ever seen, where silk-clad ladies catered to her every need, not that she asked for much. The entire torso of a lamb had been braised just for her, and presented in a plate of silver, along with imported wine and yoghurt. Incense and sacred seeds burned in front of her, and she felt the tension leaving her body as if offended by the holy smoke.

  Ira entered the yurt and sat on the floor next to her.

  “How do you feel?”

  “This has made me happy, I just wish our friends could enjoy it, I wish all of our people, even your people, that we all could be here.”

  Ira smiled faintly.

  “I am glad you made it. Now, the chieftain is talking to his generals, let’s just hope they don’t raise any objection and come with you.”

  “Thank you, Ira. You’re so good to me. I am so happy to have someone who really cares for us.” Alana threw herself in Ira’s muscular arms. Her breath was steady and robust.

  “What are you going to do?” Alana looked up at her. “Would you come with us? Or not? I understand if you don’t.”

  Ira chuckled.

  “I hate war. Honest
ly . . .” She sighed. “I cannot lie to you, Alana. I know your cause is just, and I love to help you, if I can, I will always help. But war is painful.”

  “I know,” Alana said, but she knew, although she had suffered losses and injustice, she knew little of battle and warfare itself.

  “There’s something nice about it, though,” Ira said, stretching her long arms.

  “What?” Alana raised an eyebrow.

  “You have not been part of an army before, you’ve fought in the forests and fields, and I’m sure Kassara taught you a lot, but . . . Many people, willing to follow and act, as one, comrades you’d give your life for. And deeds of valour greater than anything you’d ever think you’d do.”

  “I think I’ve already had a little of that.”

  “But at the same time—” Ira sighed. “—it’s the most horrible thing in the world, it takes away the ones you love and leaves you scarred for life.”

  “Tell that to me,” Alana muttered.

  “So, please understand if I don’t join you.”

  “I do, Ira, and there is no way I can thank you enough for what you have done for me.”

  Suddenly, a hand encased in leather gauntlets pulled the curtains at the entrance, revealing a blaze of sunlight. The sentinel stepped in.

  “Miss Alana, your presence is required at the Chieftain’s yurt.”

  “Aye,” Alana said, swallowing nervously. She clumsily stood up and looked at Ira.

  “Good luck,” Ira winked at her. Alana nodded and followed the sentinel back to the Chieftain’s yurt.

  Inside, Alana sat next to the great chieftain, two eunuchs sat cross legged on each side, and in front of them, four tall generals dressed in full armour. Their helmets were round on the top, with leather pads as cheek guards, their armours of segmented iron upon hardened leather. They made them look like armoured beetles. Their skins were tanned, almost brown, their eyebrows and hair pitch black, their faces flat, their cheekbones high. Goatees descended from their chins. They looked between dignified and terrifying, and Alana feared they would not listen to a sixteen-year-old girl like her.

  “My brothers, my generals!” the chieftain spoke. “We have gathered on the eve of the great seasons of heaven, when this young warrior appeared.”

  “Is this the chieftain of the Gadalians?” One of the younger generals spoke, his brow was low, and Alana could see disgust in his face. “It is a girl, a girl who’s barely of marrying age. How can she be the one? Is this a jest?”

  The other two generals looked at him.

  “Be respectful, Gharkan,” said an old man with thick lips and a long sparse beard. “You know of the customs of the Gadalians. It is not rare among them to choose women as leaders, not it is for them to fight and lead armies.”

  “Well, that’s why they were almost obliterated, that’s why there’s little left of them. I have heard much, and from what I’ve seen, their men are feeble and weak, their women are stronger.”

  “Gharkan, please!” the old general said.

  “One thing is putting tomboys to fight,” Gharkan protested. “But being led by a sixteen year old girl is a joke. It’s almost as bad as the Han, in the East, kissing the ground in front of their eight year old Emperors. A girl is worse, they don’t even have any morals nor reason.”

  Alana blinked in shock. She did not like that Gharkan. Part of Alana wanted to protest and teach him a lesson, but she was in a strange land, and it was better to respect their customs and let her actions speak louder than her words.

  “Gharkan, please!” said the middle aged general. “If I were you I’d be more respectful. You’ve earned your rank because of your wit, but I’ve warned you before, it’s not only wit, but respect and diplomacy.”

  “I am the best warrior here, uncle Rackhsa.” He stood up. “You made it sound like a valiant cause, but if they chose women for leaders, we’d be in for a loss. I’m not going to waste my time helping these people,” he said, jumping to his feet and turning his back.

  “Get back here and apologize,” the old general said.

  “Uncle, this is a joke, and it’s not funny. Chieftain,” Gharkan said, with a slight bow of the body, then he rushed out into the afternoon sky.

  “What an insolent youth,” the old general said. The other two remained silent. Rackhsa looked at Alana and smiled.

  “Please forgive him.”

  “It’s not a problem,” she said, so timidly that she could not hear herself.

  “Well,” the Chieftain continued. “Behold, this is the woman. Although she is young, she has fought many battles, showing wit and determination, and even with very little numbers, she has challenged the Empire. Now, the Empire is fierce and not to be dealt lightly.”

  Another general cleared his throat, announcing he would speak. It was a middle-aged man, either his armour was too thick or he had a little too much mass. “Considering the Heavenly Serpent Archer Battalion, led by your beloved nephew.” He pointed at Rackhsa. “ . . . will most likely not join us. We are left with about 25,000 men to attack.

  Alana opened her eyes wide. She had never thought of the numbers. 25,000 was a lot. There were not even 10,000 Itruschian soldiers at Adachia. The battle was basically won.

  “But if the enemy counter attacks, bringing troops from the provincial capital then, we would probably need some assistance.”

  “Gharkan should have to follow us on the rear,” the middle aged general spoke, he was young and had no facial hair. “Just in case.”

  “And the attack must be swift,” said the chieftain. “So that we retreat quickly, to avoid a possible counter attack by the Empire.”

  She wanted to say that there were fewer soldiers posted at the village, and a lesser on the border. But those generals were experienced and wise, and feared looking like a fool.

  The conversation went on, and Alana felt progressively get lost, until suddenly, all eyes were on her.

  “Sorry?” she asked.

  “What strategy are you currently planning? What is the current position of the enemy forces and their number?”

  “Well, there are less than 10,000 soldiers posted at the village.”

  “The issue is the border post,” they said.

  “Ah, yes,” Alana said, clearing her throat. “We were there, in one section there were no more than thirty soldiers. It is not that well guarded, but things might have changed. The problem is, if they see us from far away they can send their messengers quickly and intercept us.”

  “Maybe we can split factions and attack different border posts at once,” the middle aged general suggested.

  “But how fast can they move? I mean, in case they try to intercept us,” Alana asked.

  “Well, you should be the one to tell us.”

  Alana lowered her head.

  “I think . . . Well, I don’t know. I know only how many were at the village and how many were at a specific border post, but aside from that, I don’t know.”

  “It would be wise to send a recognisance force beforehand.” The oldest general stroked his beard.

  “Indeed, but if the base number is 10,000.”

  Alana cleared her throat.

  “I’d like to give a humble suggestion,” Alana said. “One of our warriors served in the war and she has led most of our operations.”

  “Why didn’t she come then?” the young one said.

  Alana took a deep breath.

  “She had stuff to do.”

  “So what is your plan, miss Alana of Adachia?”

  “Come to the Varalkian tribe, camp next to them and you can plan with Kassara.”

  “I see, but you are the leader, aren’t you?”

  “Well, not the military leader.”

  “I think things work differently with your people,” said the middle aged one. “Why did they choose you exactly?”

  “I released a lot of prisoners and led them.”

  “Like the
Great Skapasis?” the youngest among them asked. Alana felt honoured, she was being compared to the legendary chieftain, and she couldn’t help smiling.

  “Not that many, but we were victorious in most of our sabotage campaigns, and . . . And I believe the Gods have a special mission for us.”

  There was an awkward silence for an instant. Alana scanned the surroundings, and glanced at the generals. Had she said something wrong?

  “I have heard of that sword that hangs from your back, may we see it with our own eyes, young lady?”

  “Of course,” she said, shyly, and removed the sword, placing it in front of her.

  She unwrapped it, revealing the blade of twisted steel, the shining green jewel and the black crucible of wood. She handed it to the warriors, and the first one to grasp it by the handle was Changkai. He held it against the lantern, and examined its edges running his bony fingers through it. Suddenly, he groaned in pain, and looked at his finger.

  “It’s sharp,” he said with a wink. “The chieftain told me you forged it, is it right?”

  “Yes,” Alana said.

  “Were you an experienced blacksmith like your father?”

  “I learned a bit from him, but I never studied formally.”

  “You see, chieftain, this is similar to the theory of the Seven Sages, a man who learns a skill can inherit it.”

  “That makes no sense,” the young one interrupted. “Am I a good fisherman like my father? I can’t catch a fish to save my life.”

  “Be more respectful,” said the middle-aged man.

  The young general made a face, but lowered his head in humility.

  “So.” Alana cleared her throat. “When are we going?”

  “Wait,” Changkai the Elder said. “We have to speak to the council, it has to be considered carefully.”

  “Gentlemen,” Chieftain Mundzuch interrupted the old man’s speech. “Have you not understood what I said earlier?”

  “What?”

  “It’s out of discussion,” the Oracle of Tengri spoke. We heard rumours on the trading routes, it is time to prepare for battle, and this battle is on us.”

  “But chieftain,” Rakscha, spoke. “We cannot rush to attack just like that. It is wise to discuss possible lines of attack, but the counsel has to find it appropriate before acting.”