Zealot

by Joshua David Smith

  An unpleasant memory suddenly grew fresh in Tiberius’ mind, one of many he desired to simply be forgotten in time’s slow decay.

  Chapter 3

  Day 1

  .... “No, father don’t!” he screamed with the voice of a child.

  “All traitors to the Empire must die a traitor’s death,” replied Danicus, the Empire's Minister of Justice, as he held the curved two handed ax above the peculiar pointy eared mans neck; the man who was now facing an abrupt and unavoidable execution.

  “But why must he die?” asked the young Tiberius as tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “The why is not important son; all that is important is that he must die.”

  Tiberius looked around the private, darkly lit room which was on the fifth floor of Five Spires. He glanced at the oil lamps, and the tables upon which they sat. He observed the various torture devices which were strewn about the room in an organized fashion, realizing in addition that the soul crushing gloominess of this room was emphasized by the lack of windows which kept out any hopeful ray of natural light. In fact everything about the repulsive room stole the life from anyone who entered. Yes, Tiberius would look at anything else to avoid the horrid thing which was about to happen right here, right now.

  As Danicus brought the ax up, suddenly he stopped, noticing his son’s attempt to avert his youthful eyes from the quickly approaching fateful deed.

  “Come,” Danicus ordered sternly.

  Tiberius began moving hesitantly toward his father. As he grew close Danicus took a hold of his hand and placed it on the weapon. As Danicus stood behind Tiberius, assisting his young son hoist the weapon up above his head, he said, “It is not enough to be strong of intellect or skilled with a blade; one must also be able to do the things which must be done. Now harden yourself and deal the blow.”

  As the tears fogged up his vision Tiberius cried, “I can’t father.”

  “Yes you can; do it,” said Danicus firmly.

  Suddenly the gagged man with his neck resting on the execution block began to writhe and grunt dramatically in a futile but desperate attempt to break free.

  As Tiberius grew older he understood that the man not only feared his death, but in addition to that fear was the knowledge that it would take a young boy many swings of the ax before he would finally be released from this world.

  As Tiberius continued to hesitate, Danicus shouted, “Do it!”

  Suddenly, Tiberius found his strength, and with all his might he brought the ax down as he screamed; he brought it down again, again, again….

  “Tiberius,” said Jaimus.

  “Sorry I was deep in thought,” replied Tiberius abruptly.

  As Tiberius again turned his gaze to the fire which sought to lure him back into hypnosis, he continued, “I met a man, a prisoner many years ago as a child; he had pointy ears and other perplexing features. Well, against my fathers orders I would sneak into the dungeon occasionally, and during the man’s short stay we became friends; I brought him food and he told stories. Upon my inquiry he claimed his mother escaped the unnamed island and gave birth to him months later. He told me upon one of our last meetings that there is… a darkness there, a sickness beyond the wall.”

  Minutes passed as Tiberius’ words hung in the air.

  “Hmm… It remains troubling, but enticing,” said Jaimus.

  Tiberius glanced over at Eleven who seemed just as consumed with his thoughts as he had been moments ago. But even Tiberius couldn’t render a guess as to which thoughts occupied the masked man’s mind.

  “Indeed,” said Tiberius as he turned to face Jaimus.

  Tiberius slowly walked up the long path which led to Five Spire’s entrance as he remained, still deep in thought. It had been a couple of hours since his meeting with Jaimus and after leaving the library Tiberius had sent Eleven to do his own personal investigation into Malcus’ unexpected arrival. Tiberius had a feeling that he just couldn’t shake. It’s that feeling one receives before calamity strikes, the calm before the storm. Because of this Tiberius knew one thing for certain; tonight sleep would elude him, hiding in the shadows of the night, just out of reach like many recent nights.

  It was getting late in the afternoon, and the fading light was evidence that the sun had already begun to fall behind the dark stormy clouds.

  The snow flurries were beginning to limit Tiberius’ vision like early morning fog and he clutched his coat tightly as he remained caught in winter's grasp. Even though the harsh cold urged Tiberius to hurry, he instead took his time, walking tall in front of the soldiers as he went through gate after gate toward the top.

  Tiberius commanded great respect despite his age as he handled himself appropriately according to his position; it was in the way he walked, in the way he talked, in the way he treated people and gave commands. There were plentiful rumors indicating that there were many people throughout the Empire which would pledge to him there support should Tiberius vie for the throne. Although even if the rumors were true he wasn’t sure if he even wanted the throne. In fact Tiberius spent much of his time being disgusted at the very thing he swore to protect. But, of course, he knew that it was no longer possible to run from those who wanted his death. The truth of the matter remained simple; stepping down from his position would mean his death in a fortnight. Either by a lord he slighted, a rebel fueled by the love of a murdered family member, or perhaps the great Emperor Maximilian himself; all he would ever earn from all his work would be nothing but an early grave it seemed. Ironicaly, all everyone else saw was the epitome of success, an untouchable man, a hero above all heroes; but all he saw was his rapidly approaching fate, unavoidable, unstoppable. Did he ever have a choice? Was he not born into this? He was in many ways just as much a slave as those in Southside, the only difference being, that he commanded legions, and that his death would greet him sooner. Perhaps Jaimus was right after all; every man is born a slave, every man pursues freedom, but only a precious few ever obtain it.

  Tiberius, now standing at the entrance to Five Spires along with the large compliment of guards who stood formally alert to the praetor's commanding presence, moved his hand to direct as he commanded, “Open the doors.”

  “Right away sir,” responded the gate captain.

  The captain then gave his commands, putting the soldiers to action. But as the gates parted for Tiberius, he suddenly saw a scene which he had never anticipated would ever be seen on the first floor of Five Spires.

  “Halt!” shouted the captain who jumped into action.

  Tiberius moved through the towering doorway in seemingly no hurry as the guards rushed passed him. Then he watched as the thief, or assassin, which was standing on the other side of the long hall, continued to throw a lone guard off of the terrace to his certain death before turning to face capture.

  “Captain, order your men to stop!” shouted Tiberius.

  The captain obeyed, giving his commands to the soldiers who had not already ceased at Tiberius’ initial command. Appearing surprised by the Praetor's unexpected order, Tiberius then chose to grace the captain with an answer which he did not need to give, “She has nowhere to run, and to be honest, I am thoroughly intrigued. Keep your men back so that I may deal with her myself. The one who proves this castle not to be impregnable does indeed deserve special treatment after all.”

  Tiberius closed the distance and as he reached the woman he asked, “What is your name?”

  She did not respond, she just stood in her place, sword drawn, like a wild beast waiting to pounce. The woman appeared nordic, perhaps from Kiel, Gahnen, or even Haaren the southernmost Northern kingdom; he would not know until she spoke. She had beautiful but messy long golden hair, with blue eyes like his own. She had an angular face, that of which is common in Gahnen or Kiel. There was a scar above her upper lip on the left and another across the left side of her lower jaw; no doubt both were from other swordsmen who met their deaths at her hand, not unlike his own scars. She wore style from Gahnen
trademarked by the large leather belt that spanned from just bellow the chest to the waist. Female fashion in Gahnen often didn’t include dresses like in most other countries, demonstrated further by this woman’s choice in pants and a slightly feminine long sleeved shirt. Finally she was shorter, capable but not strong, indicating that she must rely heavily on skill alone in battle, and her clear past success warned Tiberius not to underestimate her.

  As Tiberius drew his uniquely forged, long but light weight, forward curved handled sword, he said, “It is polite to introduce yourself before entering a duel, even if only to know with what name to mark the grave... You may have heard of me, I am Praetor Tiberius.”

  “I know who you are… I am Gretel.”

  Ah, Gahnen. Tiberius could recognize that accent anywhere.

  “Strong Gahnen name... Captain!”

  “Yes sir,” responded the captain.

  Tiberius continued, “If I die she goes free, anyone who breaks this word will suffer the wrath of Eleven as I promise you that even at this very moment my spies are among us.”

  Was that true? Perhaps; Jaimus had many spies and it was entirely possible that one of these soldiers reported to him. Ultimately that didn’t mater though, what mattered was the fear, as the fear of his unique servant was more than enough to guarantee that his orders would be followed upon Tiberius’ untimely death.

  Turning back to the woman he now knew as Gretel, Tiberius again spoke, “Now it is fair. You have two choices, you can surrender, in which case you will be taken to the dungeon to be tortured and then neglected, but you will live… for a while. Or you can take your chances in a duel with me. If I die you will walk free.”

  “How can I trust that?”

  “I cannot offer you a guarantee, just a chance; an opportunity to walk free or die on your feet. So which will it be?” responded Tiberius as he moved within striking distance lowering his sword down and to his right, using a seldom known technique created by the Faceless; a small but infamous brotherhood of assassins which Tiberius knew to be nearly extinct.

  Then, not a moment after Tiberius finished, it began as Gretel struck, clearly hoping to catch Tiberius off guard. But Tiberius expected this and merely stepped out of the way without moving his sword. She followed, striking two more times, meeting nothing but air while Tiberius simply evaded her attacks.

  Tiberius then taunted, “At least your effort is apparent.”

  It was not her fault as Gretel was obviously, by the way she moved, a very skilled and experienced warrior. But most had never encountered the dueling technique he used, which gained its strength from taking away the others strength, it created a sense of awkwardness in the opponent's mind which could then be taken advantage of. Therefore, the technique which Tiberius had spent years mastering had a tendency to make many a skilled opponent look amateurish in the heat of battle.

  As Gretel struck again, Tiberius made a swift attack of his own sending his sword toward her throat. The woman evaded Tiberius’ cleverly placed maneuver with surprising grace. Ah... there’s the talent I anticipated. He then sent a follow up to the outside of her sword hand before escaping a smooth slice to his leg.

  They retreated before engaging again and again, Tiberius in constant amazement at Gretel’s ability to adapt in combat. Her grace was unusual, and her talent, unquestionable. They collided over and over, evading and attacking like a deadly choreographed dance.

  One minute, two minutes passed before Gretel, the weaker one of the two, began to tire. Her movements, once graceful, became sloppy and impatient. Her once powerful aggression gave way to her desire to live, and her attacks acted in accordance.

  Gretel attacked toward Tiberius’ neck to no avail. He then returned, successfully slicing her left arm after taking advantage of Gretel's mistake. Tiberius, seeing the fresh blood seep down from her arm, sent another slice which was quickly deflected. As Gretel held her arm close to her body, coddling the deep wound, she struck again, catching Tiberius off guard. Suddenly, as the special cloth which covered his hand was sliced off revealing his now brightly luminescent blue mark, Gretel instantly fell to her knees with a look of shock and surprise.

  Everything stopped as the woman simply stared down at the floor, stunned by some new revelation which Tiberius was not privy to. The woman then continued to look back at his mark as if trying to make sense of something.

  Tiberius knew that he should land the final blow, but he hesitated. He never hesitated, but right now, in this moment, he waited, for what he was not sure.

  Then, in a soft voice, as Gretel looked up with a joyful smile, she spoke, “So the rumors are true. All this time I have been searching…” then as her smile faded before quickly turning to a look of confusion she continued, “…But it can’t be, you are Praetor Tiberius, not a prisoner…”

  As Gretel’s words trailed off a tear rolled down her face as she finished, “… Little brother, what have they done to you.”

  Tiberius remained still and unmoving, unsure of what to think or conclude. After all this was not how a duel to the death was supposed to go. But there was something she did or maybe it was the way she said it that moved him, that caused him to hold back, to give pause. Surely he didn’t simply believe her like a simple fool, but still, there was something…

  “Captain, take her personally to my ship. Cover her face on the way and if asked don’t give away her name. Take some escorts with you, and once you arrive tell my men to lock her in the brig. Warn them to handle her with caution as she is extremely dangerous.”

  The captain was hesitant so Tiberius continued, “I know you are not directly under my command, but ask yourself; can the emperor protect you from my wrath?”

  At that the captain quickly went into action doing exactly as Tiberius had instructed. On occasion, Tiberius had found that an appropriate death threat was sometimes necessary to guarantee the faithfulness of those he ordered, and to set them to task; most especially and specifically this was true for those whose faithfulness he reasonably questioned.

  In this circumstance Tiberius had given such orders because if what she claimed is true, however unlikely that was, then she would not be safe at Five Spires.

  While Gretel was being taken away, Tiberius turned again to face the commander, “And Captain, do not report this.”

  As everyone left and a few servants came out to clean up the mess, Tiberius walked toward the terrace. Then, as he arrived, Tiberius knelt, reaching down to pick up some snow, which had been left by the still raging storm, before using it to wipe Gretel’s blood off of his sword. He found a moment of peace as he did this task, the wind blown snow brushing up against his face. His following whispered words were then carried off by the furious wind, “Another soul I didn’t have to take; another soul that won’t burden me.”

  Chapter 4

  Day 2

  It was a bitter cold, early morning, with the sunlight just now beginning to pierce through the weakening cloud cover which currently blanketed the sky following the recent unwelcome snowstorm. The blizzard which had passed on, now wreaking its havoc on men who dwelled further south, left layers of fresh snow which was currently being pushed aside into large piles by the many servants who sought, not of their own accord, to clear a clean path for the footfalls of their wealthy and important masters. Tiberius scanned his surroundings noting the exceptional busyness of all who worked on and traversed Northside’s currently bustling streets as he made his way from the gates of Five Spires to his ship.

  The Andromeda now rested just a few feet away gently bobbing in the sea as if he had yet to awaken her from a deep slumber.

  Tiberius’ personal ship was only slightly modified from the rest in his armada which he had commissioned to be built by certain boat builders from the Red Isles more than a few years prior. As he had grown displeased with the common Imperial design, a design which placed importance on heavy naval combat over transport and speed mainly by adding a large ram and reinforced wood to the hull, T
iberius had a brand new design commissioned which was modeled after the old Gahnen raiding vessels that had once been used by certain sects of Nordic pirates. Tiberius’ new armada was built with speed solely in mind by removing the ram and heavy hull reinforcements, thereby unequipping the ships for naval engagement, and instead, re-equipping them with smaller size and more versatile sails. He prided himself in his fleet's ability to be in and out of combat faster than anyone else; also to be able to move positions or call on and receive reinforcements on a whim. And, while most of his ships had a small cargo hold, only the Andromeda was equipped with a small brig capable of holding up to three people in a cramped space.

  Tiberius had fallen into a troubled sleep whilst back at Five Spires and had decided on leaving just before first light. So, after instructing a servant to inform his personal messenger of his whereabouts and the change of plans, Tiberius had begun the long walk to the port at which the Andromeda and her four escorts were docked. And, as Tiberius presently arrived, his soldiers who were about stood at attention immediately while the Andromeda’s captain made her way out to greet him.

  After Tiberius signaled his men to resume their duties the captain spoke, “You sent us an interesting delivery last night Praetor.”

  “An interesting delivery for an interesting night. We had a most unusual guest at the castle,” responded Tiberius.

  “So I have seen,” said Kanii with an inquisitive look.

  Kanii, once a successful pirate captain and worthy adversary, had outmaneuvered Tiberius more than once in battle. After a little time and successful persuasion on the part of Tiberius, which included her being forcefully removed of ship and crew with only a death sentence to look forward to after an unpleasant imprisonment, the dark skinned scoundrel decided it would be more profitable to accept Tiberius’ gracious offer. Tiberius was pleased, as he believed the pirate’s talents would prove themselves significantly beneficial over time.