Trials

by Pedro Urvi

  “Lomar, keep up the defense here. Don’t let them reach the cauldron! I’ll get more oil to burn the other siege tower on the other side!”

  “Right, your Highness!”

  “Good luck, my friend,” said Gerart with a wink and then ran off, followed by his Royal Swords.

  Lomar fought as if possessed, with the devoted Rogdonian men at his side managing to contain the assault of the men of the Snow Army who were trying to take the wall from the giant siege tower. The flames intensified at the base and were beginning to creep up the enormous framework. The warriors, trapped and desperate, began to jump off to escape the flames. Those on the upper levels, panicking at the sight of the smoke and flames under their feet, created an avalanche of people on the moving bridge. Many Norghanians were thrown down the wall or into the courtyard. The rest were killed by the defending soldiers.

  Lomar ran to the cauldron and saw that the other siege tower was also alight. Prince Gerart had managed to set fire to it. The two columns of smoke from the gigantic structures were visible from leagues away. The first siege tower, engulfed in flames, began to topple. Below, the Norghanians sought to escape from its shadow. With a crash the enormous tower finally fell to the ground, crushing hundreds of unfortunate warriors among its burning embers as it collapsed.

  Gerart saw the great machine fall and smiled. The one in front of him was already engulfed in flames and would soon fall too. He looked apprehensively at the other two towers which loomed over them like two giants made up of wood and men.

  But something surprising happened. The two towers stopped moving.

  Gerart watched them in puzzlement. Slowly the towers moved away from the walls!

  They don’t want to lose the two other siege towers. They’re taking them away.

  Horns sounded in the valley and the Norghanian army stopped its attack. In an orderly manner, the soldiers began to retreat.

  Gerart could not believe his eyes. The proud, dreaded Norghanian army was retreating!

  “Archers, let death rain on the enemy!” he ordered.

  All along the wall three thousand archers took up their positions and sent death falling from the sky onto the retreating enemy troops, further punishing their failure. The enemy was retreating, well protected by their shields and in an orderly and disciplined way, but hundreds of them were still falling.

  The defenders burst out in jubilant cheering:

  “They shall not pass! They shall not pass!”

  The whole wall shouted, delirious with joy.

  They had held out and repulsed the assault.

  The enemy was in retreat!

  They were beating a retreat!

  Night was falling and the whole Norghanian army fell back to their own camp.

  Gerart, Lomar, Longor and Urien gathered at the Great Tower.

  Gerart came straight to the point. “How many losses?” he asked.

  “We’ve lost nearly three thousand men today, counting the dead and those wounded who won’t be able to fight again,” Urien said. “The losses on the battlements have been way too many.”

  “Yes, those barbarians are incredible fighters. By the time we managed to kill one, often he’d already killed two or three of ours,” Lomar lamented.

  “There are too many of them, and the wall’s too wide and long to defend properly,” Count Longor said. “Besides the fact that many of our men had no experience whatsoever…”

  “Their losses have been terrible too. How many men do you think they’ve lost today?” Gerart asked Urien.

  “Three times ours, about nine thousand men.”

  “Yes, your oil saved us just as you predicted, wise Counselor.”

  “By a hair’s-breadth. They were very smart, soaking the skins in water and then wrapping them around the wooden framework. But they hadn’t protected the base, the huge wheels of the machine. Very smart of you, young Prince, to notice that.”

  “I don’t know how I came to think of it. A stroke of luck, I guess.”

  “Something more than luck,” Urien said with a smile. “I’d say it’s called having a good head.”

  “Will they attack again?” Lomar asked.

  “Most certainly,” Longor assured him. “After all those losses they won’t back down. It’s all or nothing for them now.”

  “When will they attack?” the Prince wanted to know.

  “At dawn, they’ll come at dawn,” Urien predicted.

  “Then we’d better get ready,” Gerart replied.

  Dawn of the second day of siege found Gerart and Lomar asleep beside the great cauldron above the gate. Gerart stretched himself into wakefulness and stared at the horizon. Lomar joined him.

  They heard a war horn in the distance.

  The sea of Norghanians began to move amid terrifying roars from blood-thirsty throats. The enormous catapults and ballistae came first, followed by waves of red and white.

  “Here they come,” said Lomar.

  Gerart watched the enemy advance. With a resolute gesture he said:

  “Mark my words, by the end of today they’ll have lost another ten thousand men.”

  Dark Empress

  A bright sun reigned over the heavenly sky that glorious morning. Everything touched by its golden rays, those bearers of life and wellbeing, was filled with warmth. Isuzeni walked out onto the wide, sumptuously decorated balcony of the imperial palace, trailing after him the tail of his silver dress-cloak. He was wearing his best attire, the occasion demanded it. He lifted his face to the sun-king, allowing himself the agreeable sensation of being honored. He felt a familiar, longed-for sense of wellbeing on his yellowish skin protected by fine aromatic oils. He enjoyed the moment like a child with new shoes, knowing that his delight in this simple earthly pleasure would be short-lived. Matters of state and the Empress’s needs did not allow for such luxuries.

  Accompanying him were the eight Moyuki assigned to his protection, all in impeccable black dress armor. Isuzeni’s gaze lingered on them. If previously they had looked terrifying, today they would demoralize a war god. The High Priest of the Cult of Imork breathed in the rich, intoxicating perfume of the thousands of flowers used to decorate the balcony. The whole northern façade of the palace, as well as the immense square before it, was covered in flowers. The festive decorations had extended to all the gardens and buildings adjacent to the Square of Triumph. Flowers, decorations and flags filled every corner Isuzeni’s slanting eyes could reach.

  Today is a great day, a day of celebration. The day to commemorate my Lady Yuzumi’s final victory over the last opposing forces. Today is the day chosen by the Dark Lady to celebrate the great victory along the entire continent of Toyomi, the beginning of a new era. The nine realms are far behind, now the whole continent is hers, all her enemies have been destroyed, crushed under her yoke after years of war and bloody conquest.

  Today was the day on which the Queen would become Empress in the eyes of her people.

  In Isuzeni’s, on the other hand, she had already been that for a long time.

  It was a day of supreme importance, one which the whole nation must celebrate. And so it would be throughout the continent, with festivities in every city and village. The rabble must be controlled, their bellies moderately satisfied, but above all their minds must remain entertained and distracted. That was the only way to keep them from raising their voices, as Isuzeni knew well. It was a science which the ancient rulers had been putting into practice for centuries.

  If rice is short, provide the people with entertainment. This had become an art among the ancient rulers. Fortunately, the last two crops had been reasonably abundant; the weather had smiled on the harvest and the people had enough to eat.

  Today is a great day, one which I’ll never forget as long as I live, even though with what’s happened over the last few days it’s more than likely that this will be my last day. The great ravens had brought the worst possible news as far as his interests were concerned, and his Lady would be furiou
s with him. Having already been warned by the Dark Lady not to fail again in his mission to kill the Marked, Isuzeni took it for granted that this would be his last dawn. That was why he was trying to savor it so intensely. Each ray of sun, each scent the breeze brought with it, seemed to him an exquisite delicacy. He wished to enjoy every fragrance in all its glory, experience each sensation as never before, since a painful death would soon claim him.

  The drums began to boom and Isuzeni, looking out from the balcony to the Square of Triumph, was able to see the hundred musicians of the army, who in dress armor and close formation hurried with military promptness to stand in position.

  The great square had been completely cleared to make room for the great military parade in honor of the Empress. It was deserted, without even a market stall, only an immense rectangle of grey and black tiles. The armies of Empress Yuzumi would soon appear in the spotless, richly decorated square. Surrounding the great rectangle were thousands of spectators, stretching as far as the eye could see: the common people, anxiously awaiting the triumphant parade of the Dark Lady’s troops. The ignorant populace was eager to be entertained, looking forward to a new era of peace and prosperity after long years of bitter war in which thousands had perished. Isuzeni estimated the number of dead at more than a hundred thousand throughout the years of war, counting both soldiers and civilians. But as his Lady had said on more than one occasion:

  “A tiny price to pay for the domination of a whole continent:”

  And in that, as in almost all questions, Isuzeni was in complete agreement with his Lady.

  The war drums thundered in a long roll. It was the signal for the Empress to make her triumphal appearance on the balcony. And there she was, the Dark Lady, Empress Yuzumi, before her conquered and devoted people: some through force, some through resignation. With a dramatic stroke of stagecraft, she made her grand entrance, thousands of rose petals rained from the roofs, hundreds of white doves soared as they were freed from the great balcony. The dramatic effect could not have been more imposing. The people applauded feverishly amid the rolling of the drums.

  The Empress was wearing her usual black armor with red trim which, tight-fitting as it was, gave the illusion of being tattooed on her sinuous, beautifully proportioned body. That armor, a prodigy of craftsmanship made by an old Master-Forger, was a work of art. Light and close-fitting, as well as extremely resistant, it was just as the Dark Lady had ordered it. Down her back fell a long blood-red cloak. Her expression, even in that moment of glory, personal triumph and absolute satisfaction, was impassive. That beautiful face showed only a dauntless serenity, while her enormous black eyes read the spirit of that expectant crowd.

  The audience burst into applause and cheers for the Empress, as if aware of their ruthless ruler’s scrutiny. On the balcony Yuzumi walked to the railings, raised her right arm and with a monotonous wave saluted in all directions, stopping briefly at each of the four points. The cheers and applause filled the whole royal city. Isuzeni noted once more, without being able to hide a satisfied smile, that the illiterate populace wanted nothing more than a spectacle and a touch of hope to wipe from their souls all the evil they had suffered, as if it had been no more than a passing illness. It was truly amazing. The Empress kept up her theatrical salute to her oppressed people, while they in their ignorance glorified her.

  After a long while the Dark Lady stopped waving and took a step back.

  The drums rolled again, this time with the rhythm of a march. The parade was beginning at last. The first regiment began its entrance from the south, carrying a great number of red standards, long and narrow, flying in the wind, keeping in step with the rhythm of the drums. When the people saw them enter the square they reacted with more applause and cheers, so that the sound of their clapping drowned the booming of the drums.

  The Empress, surrounded by Moyuki, looked to her right and saw Isuzeni.

  She beckoned him to come closer.

  Isuzeni obeyed at once, coming to stand beside his Lady with a deep bow. Within him Isuzeni felt his anxiety growing. The hour of truth had arrived, in a few instants his life could end and he knew it.

  “A magnificent celebration, your Majesty,” Isuzeni said, trying to control his voice so as not to betray his discomfort.

  “The people need shows of power and entertainment, as you well know, Counselor. It was you who taught me this many years ago.”

  “And some hope as well, my Lady. It’s been a long war.”

  “That’s the part which doesn’t fully convince me. A few public deaths, massive executions, right here in the Square of Triumph, and all the thoughts of this wretched rabble will focus on what matters to them, which is how to survive one more day. End of the problem.”

  “That point of view is also very effective, my Lady.”

  “I think I’ll lean towards that; I don’t find the path of hope at all attractive.”

  “As you wish, your Majesty.”

  “Besides, public executions gladden my spirit, they’re most enriching.”

  “They certainly are,” Isuzeni replied.

  “Anyway, enough of formalities. The ravens have returned with news, some of it extremely disappointing.”

  “I know, my Lady. I have failed you most unpardonably. The Marked has defeated my Dominator Sorcerers and managed to escape alive. I put my life in your hands. My mistakes are unforgivable. I’ve failed.”

  “Indeed, you’ve failed and the Marked is still alive. I told you I wanted him dead. Dead!”

  Isuzeni lowered is head in shame, feeling the approach of fear.

  He began to apologize. “I don’t understand how he could have survived…”

  “Dead!” screamed the Dark Lady, filled with overwhelming rage. “Dead!”

  Isuzeni was deeply frightened. Very rarely had he seen his Lady lose control of herself.

  “What must I do to finish him off? What? Dead, he must die! This is no trivial whim; I’m fighting for my own survival. My life is at stake, the Marked hast to die so that I can continue on the face of this earth. It’s him or me. Do you understand, Isuzeni? Do you understand!”

  “Yes, my Lady,” he muttered, lowering his head. “I’ll send more agents to finish him off, my Lady.”

  “More agents? What guarantee of success can you give me? The same as you have until now? Your agents’ failure has been utter and complete, and that is unacceptable.”

  “Forgive me, my Lady. I don’t understand it, he should be dead. My agents were lethal, superb in the art of death. It must be because of his comrades, my Lady. Perhaps they’ve helped him survive my men.”

  “Are you referring to the White Soul? Another resounding failure! They should never have met, never! If they have it’s thanks to the incompetence of your agents, who weren’t capable of eliminating the threat in time.”

  “We don’t know for sure that it’s the White Soul. It might be, but we can’t be sure of it, my Lady…”

  “What more proof do you need? Since their paths joined it’s been impossible to kill them. They must both be dead, or the Premonition will be fulfilled. They must die at all costs, do you understand, Isuzeni? Die!”

  Her shriek was so loud that Isuzeni bent double. His Lady’s rage was too intense to bear.

  “The Premonition shall not be fulfilled!”

  Suddenly Isuzeni felt a terrible pain all over his body, a horrifying agony as if a thousand red-hot needles were piercing his flesh, flooding him with terror. He doubled up in pain. A dark cloud of pure evil had enveloped his body. He raised his gaze to his Lady and in the black pupils of her slanting eyes he saw the gleam of a perverse rage. With deep sadness he understood that his end was upon him, the Dark Lady would punish his failure with an agonizing death. The pain intensified until it drove him to the brink of collapse. Resignedly, Isuzeni accepted the horrible end he had already anticipated. The pain reached his heart, it would now crush him as a vengeful hand crushes a rotten egg, and he would die.

  I
go to you, my Lord Imork. Welcome me at your side, Lord of Death. Remember I have served you faithfully my whole life, take into account all those I have sacrificed and sent to you to feed your power. Welcome in your faithful servant, to serve you.

  Isuzeni was barely able to finish the prayer in his mind. The pain was too intense. Crushed, he waited for his heart to burst.

  “On the other hand,” the Dark Lady said icily, “it seems your agents have been able to bring about war among the three great kingdoms of Tremia.”

  Isuzeni felt the pain leave his system all of a sudden. With a violent spasm he recovered control over his tormented body. Filled with apprehension, he looked at his Lady again, but she was watching the parade as if she had forgotten all about him. Her thoughts were far away. Two regiments of Moyuki, carrying the dreaded black standards, were entering the great square to the delight of the spectators, who were cheering and applauding incessantly. Isuzeni put his hand over his heart to make sure it was still beating. It was, he had not died, his Lady had let him live. He did not know why. The Dark Lady did not tolerate failure of any kind.

  “Yes, yes… indeed, my lady,” he said doubtfully.

  “The diplomats were eliminated without fulfilling their missions and war has been declared. Rogdon is in a very delicate position. That pleases me, Counselor.”

  “Indeed, my Lady. The careful strategy has finally been successful. It’s been very difficult to accomplish, but in the end we’ve managed it. The Norghanians are invading from the northeast and the Noceans from the south, just as we had planned.”

  “Now tell me, Counselor, how is it possible that you can drive kingdoms to war and yet you’re incapable of killing one man and the woman who goes with him?”

  “Forgive me, my Lady… I’m not worthy…”