The Lilith Trilogy Box Set

by Kim ten Tusscher

  Not if it’s up to me.

  Lilith bowed her head and prayed to the creature. She asked for a successful hunt for these people. When Lilith had finished her prayer, the whale moved on. Satisfied, she followed the creature with her eyes. When she looked in front of her again, she saw Niul looking at her from a distance. He looked pleased and winked. Lilith blushed and cast down her eyes, but inside she felt proud. She couldn’t help but look at Sivak through her eyelashes. The woman stared back at her, deep in thought.

  When the whale had made a complete circle, she stopped in front of the longhouse. The drummers and singers stopped their songs, and silence descended on the village. Wasmée was responsible for all the rituals during the hunt and was now given a bowl of water by Niul. She solemnly walked up to the whale.

  “What did you do when Whale swam before you?”

  Sivak showed up beside Lilith. Her friends formed a circle around them. Lilith looked them all in the eye and searched for Ohinde. Where had she gone?

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Isn’t it? If you did something wrong, we will all pay for it. If you offended the Soul, we don’t have anything to eat.”

  Lilith shrugged and wanted to walk away. Sivak pulled her back by her plait.

  “Why do you walk away? What did you do wrong?”

  “Let go of me.”

  “Only if you answer me.” The other women tightened their circle. Sivak brought her face closer to Lilith’s. She felt her breath against her ear. Lilith hated it. She hated that this woman didn’t trust her while she had done the right thing. She was absolutely sure of it.

  “I didn’t upset the Soul.”

  “How would you know? Let us be the judge of that.” Sivak pulled at Lilith’s plait again. She didn’t do it just to emphasize her words, it really hurt.

  Lilith grabbed Sivak’s wrist and squeezed so hard that the other woman had to let go. Sivak looked surprised. Lilith slapped her in the face, and Sivak fell to the side. Her friends caught her, but because Lilith pushed her, the woman landed inside the ceremonial circle. The crowd went quiet.

  “I prayed that the Soul would give you a good hunt!”

  Sivak stared at her with open mouth. Then her face turned stony. “And now you’ve managed to ruin everything after all.”

  Lilith looked around. Wasmée was still standing in front of the whale, but had now turned to face her. She was still holding the bowl of water. Everyone was looking at Lilith, contempt showing on their faces. Lilith turned around and ran away.

  “You really messed that up, Lilith,” Seraph said.

  Because the longhouse was needed for the ceremony, Seraph and Nander were sitting outside and had seen everything.

  “Do you finally understand that you can’t escape? This is who you are, there’s no running away from that.”

  Lilith stood still, head bowed. She was clenching her fists.

  “It will always be like this. Humans don’t trust you, and therefore sooner or later you have to hurt them. That’s what happened with Ferhdessar as well, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t talk about him.” Lilith whispered.

  “Does it hurt too much?”

  “He used me.”

  “That’s because he couldn’t trust you. Just like that woman. The only defence you know is violence. There’s no room for that in this world. People will cast you out. Untie me and Nander, and I’ll take you back to a world where you are safe.”

  Lilith growled.

  “You are important to Kasimirh and to me. We think you’re perfect, just the way you are. Come home, Lilith. So you can be yourself.”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Niul walked up to her. “Kasimirh and Seraph may have made you this way, but this isn’t who you are. You can change, you’ve shown that over the past few weeks.”

  She let the sorcerer lead her away.

  Seraph called after her: “No matter where you go, in the end you’ll always have to run away again!”

  “His words sound so alluring.”

  “They’re lies. You know very well what’s waiting for you with Kasimirh, and that’s not what you want.”

  Lilith nodded. “I’m sorry about before. Is the Soul angry at me?”

  “We won’t know until after the hunt.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Niul nodded. “It think it’s best if you don’t participate in the hunt. Perhaps you should leave tomorrow.”

  Lilith sighed. “Alone?”

  “Sooner or later you’ll be alone anyway.”

  She nodded. “If there’s nothing I can do to make amends, I think I’ll just go to bed.”

  Without a word, Niul walked back to the ceremonial circle.

  Lying in her bed, Lilith listened to the drums and the singing of the Inuuk. For the first time in a long while, she felt an outsider again. Maybe Seraph was right.

  19

  The curtains bulged into the room. Outside, birds were singing. It was a lovely day. Nothing to indicate impending doom. Once again, it surprised Yvar that the world and nature hadn’t really changed. His world had, but the planet didn’t seem to take the slightest notice of the coming war. It was just like every other year. Nigesanla had predicted this their first night together; nothing he did would have a lasting effect on the universe. Somehow, that felt like a relief.

  Harald and two other guards entered to help him. It was typical; in times of peace, Yvar was surrounded by women; in times of war, the men came to his aid. There was a tournament today to demonstrate the strength of the army. It reminded him of the war, but it was also something he had been looking forward to for quite some time. And now it struck him why. The display of power wouldn’t just show the Merzian’s how powerful their army was, it would also put his own mind at ease. He couldn’t simply believe what other people told him, he had to see with his own eyes whether the signs were favourable. That was also why he tried to get in touch with the Gods more often.

  Yvar was dressed in silence. His metal cuirass was strapped on, and a velvet cape was draped over his shoulders. The weight pressed heavily on him. This gear was way too hot for a day like this. He bent through his knees so that Harald could put the helmet on his head. How appropriate. Whether he was crowned or someone had to put a helmet on his head, whenever he presented himself on formal occasions, he had to kneel for Merzia. As king, he might well be the most humble person in the country. The one who had to sacrifice the most. His people thought they were serving him, but in truth it was the other way around.

  “You are ready, my lord,” said Harald.

  Yvar was roused from his contemplations and took a look at himself in the mirror. The God Wigg was staring back at him.

  “All right, let’s go.”

  Surrounded by his guards, Yvar left the palace. Ferhdessar was getting ready for the tournament somewhere else. He had informed Yvar that he would demonstrate his airplanes to show the people how strong Merzia was. They hadn’t spoken much, lately. It bothered Yvar, but every time he saw the sorcerer, he felt Ferhdessar’s doubts about his decisions. He had enough doubts of his own. Yvar sighed.

  At times, Kasimirh’s offer sounded alluring. If he surrendered, all his worries would disappear instantly. He sighed again. Worried, Harald looked at him. Yvar shrugged. Surrender wasn’t an option. It would mean his death and the end of Merzia.

  He mounted his horse and rode through the capital. People had gathered along the route to honour him. They worshipped him as their king, or perhaps even a God. It was exactly what Yvar needed today. He pushed away his concerns and enjoyed the ride to the fortress at the foot of the rocks. At the fortress, his generals joined him.

  When they reached the tournament grounds, the crowd parted to make way for the king and his retinue. A hush fell over the crowd as people looked up in awe at their king. Yvar made his horse prance, like Wigg’s statue at the temple. The mask and helmet hid Yvar’s smile as the people backed up and fell to their knees.

&nbs
p; Yvar dismounted in front of the grandstand that had been erected for him. The generals followed him up the stairs. His bodyguards would join them after their own demonstration.

  Yvar looked on with pride as his own guard performed a deadly dance. All spectators had gone quiet, faces full of admiration. After their dance, the guards sheathed their swords and loaded their rifles.

  “Aim!”

  The barrels were pointed at the sky.

  “Fire!”

  There was a deafening explosion as they all pulled the trigger at the same time. Some of the spectators covered their ears, others flinched.

  “Load!”

  Reloading the weapons took a few seconds. This was the reason why the soldiers weren’t too happy with their rifles. On the battlefield every second counted. Nevertheless, a rank of marksmen could have its use.

  After shooting three times, the guard left the tournament grounds. They posted themselves along the back wall of the royal stands. There was a second entry here.

  After a few minutes of silence, the audience started to shout and point in the distance. A dragon came flying down from the capital. The sun pierced the thin fabric of the wings, making them seem translucent. Then three airplanes appeared from behind a rock pillar. They circled the dragon, making it sway dangerously. Yvar thought the counter-attack looked real, as if Lilith had really come to destroy Nadesh.

  Barely a hundred yards from the ground, Ferhdessar opened fire. The co-pilot lighted the flamethrower on the front of the plane. It produced a rumbling noise. The dragon caught fire. Within seconds there was nothing left of the dragon except for a few burning strips of fabric, fluttering to the ground. The crowd roared.

  Before landing, the three airplanes buzzed the crowd a few times.

  Yvar was impressed. Ferhdessar’s demonstration had given him more hope that the dragon could be defeated. Lilith would put up more of a fight, but at least they were able to fight her on her own territory. She was no longer beyond the reach of his soldiers. Ferhdessar jumped out of the plane and bowed. Yvar gave him a nod of approval.

  Ferhdessar chased the people away from the planes and drove them off, making room for two new groups of soldiers. After having put the last plane away safely, he walked back to the tournament grounds. The two groups of soldiers paying homage to the king were both ten men strong. It struck Ferhdessar that there was a huge difference in skill between both groups. The group on the right side was older. Their banner indicated that they belonged to the wolf brigade. They greeted Yvar, but also general Kiril.

  The other group was comprised of soldiers who were respectively new to the army. Ferhdessar recognized Pavel. He had seen him and his father at the palace on the morning after they had brought Lilith to the king. A farmer with a pitchfork Ferhdessar thought, shaking his head. In his opinion, the Merzian army was slowly diminishing its own power by attracting more and more young soldiers. What he saw now confirmed his belief; Pavel was in command of the ten soldiers, but nobody listened to him. They were provoking the Wolves without any respect for their seniority.

  The inexperienced soldiers didn’t belong to a brigade yet. For lack of a symbol for their group, they had painted their own banner: a dragon with a protruding claw, ready to attack. The soldiers showed guts, choosing Merzia’s symbol as their own.

  Yvar spoke to them: “The first fight is between the Wolves and the Dragons. May the best group win. And with this symbol, that can be none other than the Dragons.”

  The soldiers put on their helmets and took their places. The Dragons were standing close to each other, whereas the Wolves had formed two ranks. They calmly waited, confident that the opponent was no match for them.

  “Attack!”

  The Dragons stormed forwards. Some soldiers were too slow, breaking their lines. Their swords met the weapons of their enemies. Some of the boys managed to get eliminated by their own defensive actions. Pavel shouted orders to bring his group back together, but to no avail. All he could do was throw himself at one of the opponents.

  Ferhdessar’s vexation increased as the fight went on. The Wolves didn’t make any effort to attack. They parried the blows of the Dragons with the greatest of ease, wearing them out.

  “Enough! Finish them!” the commander of the Wolves ordered at long last.

  The soldiers immediately launched the attack. The Dragons didn’t stand a chance.

  Accompanied by howls of derision, the Dragons left the tournament grounds, banner slack and heads down. Ferhdessar realized that this was his chance to demonstrate his own contribution to the upcoming battle. He worked his way through the crowd until he reached the area where the soldiers prepared themselves for the fights. He walked past the Wolves, who were still laughing loudly about the victory that had been handed to them so easily.

  Ferhdessar looked around. He saw banners everywhere. A group of soldiers was quietly sitting on the grass at the back of the field. They hadn’t put their banner back in its stand. That was where he had to be.

  The soldiers looked up as Ferhdessar appeared beside them. They rushed to their feet and saluted him.

  “That wasn’t very impressive out there.”

  “Have you come to rub it in?” Pavel asked.

  Ferhdessar smiled. “How brave, that you dare speak to me like that, but bravery wasn’t what you were lacking. It might even get you very far.” He sat down on the grass and motioned the soldiers to come sit around him. “I understand that you want to forget about this as quickly as possible, and wish others will forget about this as well, but what you perhaps would like even more, is a second chance.”

  “So that the Wolves can humiliate us again?”

  Ferhdessar shook his head. “If it’s up to me, you’ll come out of that fight victorious. Just think about the humiliation for the Wolves. Defeated by a bunch of soldiers who have only just started to learn to fight.”

  The soldiers looked offended, but then laughed half-heartedly.

  “Why would we win the second time?”

  “Because I’m going to help you.” Ferhdessar opened his hand so that they could see the silver-coloured snail’s shell he was holding. “This is a soul box. I consider it to be a giant step forward in the art of war. You get to demonstrate its effectiveness today.”

  “What do we do with it?”

  “You don’t do anything. I’m the one using it. This little box can contain all your souls. From that moment on, your bodies belong to me. I will let you fight the Wolves and make sure that you win.”

  The soldiers looked at each other, doubt written on their faces.

  “And then what?” Pavel asked.

  “After that, I release your souls again so that you can celebrate your victory. It’s completely safe, the only thing is that you won’t remember anything of what happened.”

  “How can you be so sure about that?”

  “Did you hear about the dragon at Havv’n?”

  The soldiers nodded.

  “This box enabled her to fight there. The past few weeks, I’ve been testing it on groups of people. There were no issues. The test subjects didn’t remember what they had done, but they experience no lasting physical or mental problems.”

  “I think we should try this,” Pavel said confidently. “People will praise us if we beat the Wolves. Imagine how embarrassed they will be!”

  Yvar tried to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but his helmet prevented him from doing so. All he could do was ignore it. The helmet was part of the role he had to play today, so he couldn’t take it off.

  He sighed, there was nothing he could do. He turned around to face the generals to the right of him.

  “What’s the situation in the south?”

  “There’s still heavy fighting. The servi launch surprise attacks, injuring many and even killing some of our men.”

  Yvar nodded. The most seriously injured men were brought back to the capital. Rogan had arrived the week before, weakened and a bare shade of the man he had once been. H
e had survived, but other soldiers hadn’t been that lucky.

  “They’re playing a game with us,” Kiril grumbled. “They keep us occupied and weaken us.”

  “We have no choice but to fight back,” Zander rebuked. “We know what the servi are capable of when they attack a village.”

  They all fell silent. Yvar had listened in horror to the unremitting stream of messages. The messengers spoke of so much violence and hatred… The servi massacred villages and pillaged them. It was their way to replenish their supplies. Many people had already fled to the north for fear of the attacks. The only upside was that almost all men who fled joined the army.

  “I received a letter from Zuzeca,” Yvar said. “He has found an area where we can fight Kasimirh.”

  Yvar passed the letter around. The generals read it carefully.

  “Emek Jaryi? Didn’t Margal’s city used to be there?” Kiril asked.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Walter answered. “Our maps of that region are dated, but if I remember correctly, Ilahidir was built on fertile ground and Emek Jaryi is a vast, barren plain surrounding the city.”

  “An ideal place to lure the servi into,” said Zander.

  Yvar nodded. “That’s what I thought as well, provided that we conquer Ilahidir. Zuzeca will provide us with current maps. He says that the area hasn’t been inhabited since Margal’s death. The Naftalians believe it’s haunted.”

  The generals laughed.

  Yvar suddenly spotted the pontifex’s daughter. Nigesanla walked on the other side of the tournament grounds, talking to the women she often associated with. She had been accepted quite easily.

  “What do you think of lady Nigesanla?”

  The generals searched the crowd for the woman the king had spoken about.

  “She looks lovely today, as ever.”

  Yvar smiled. He had noticed that men followed her with their eyes as she walked past. Wolter didn’t tell him anything he hadn’t known.