by Ali Vali
“Tell the others to make camp near the stream we found, but tell them to stay clear of the Romans and the Huns. This isn’t our fight, and there’s no sense losing any of our brothers over this.”
Leif went off to do what she’d asked, but she stayed to study the layout of the camp. She climbed a tree for a better look and settled her sights on the large tent at the back, farthest away from the battlefield. Whoever was occupying it was hidden from view behind the closed flaps and a number of posted guards. The Elders had sent a detailed message of what she’d find and what she had to do about it, but so far she’d seen no evidence of their claims.
“The stories of the strength of his arm are true, but where is our lost lamb?” she said as she kept her eyes on the tent.
Attila, from what she’d read of him, had been born with a warrior’s heart and a love of fighting, but he’d conquered too much too fast to have done it on his own. Someone must have helped him develop his talent for the art of war, and that was the Elders’ concern since they believed it’d come from one of their own.
“Where are you, Julius?” She sat on a large branch and pressed her back to the trunk. Like her with her new friends, Julius would stick out among the warriors gathered around the hundreds of campfires enjoying the calm before battle.
The Elders seldom got involved in the affairs of men, preferring to be indulgent parents who allowed their children to make and learn from their mistakes. But at times, men with the ability to live forever mistook the elixir for a drink that created gods. Once they’d so anointed themselves, they craved nothing but power. She never understood what you were supposed to do with all that power once you had it, but men like Julius were often shortsighted in their thinking, if he was really down there whispering in Attila’s ear.
She scanned the field again, and the lone man standing on another hill staring at the distance caught her attention. She didn’t know Julius well, but she remembered him from the few gatherings of the Elders she’d attended. He had an arrogant way of speaking and standing that was hard to forget. The posture was the same, and when he turned back toward the Hun, she recognized him. “What the hell are you doing?” she murmured.
What did Julius hope to accomplish by helping Attila seize control of the world? Was it to make the Hun king his puppet once he’d reached that goal?
She jumped down, not surprised to see Leif close by. “Stay with the others and make sure they follow orders, and take my horse back with you.” Leif didn’t reach for the reins when she held them up, and he spread his feet a bit as if preparing for a fight. “What’s wrong?”
“Take me with you. If you’re planning to go anywhere near that, you’ll need my help.” He nodded toward the Huns and frowned. “You’re a fierce fighter, but you’ll need someone to watch your back down there.”
“Go back with the others and don’t worry about me. Believe me, I’ve had my fill of unnecessary battles, so I plan no harm to myself or to them. I’m only going to see a man about some information.” She gripped Leif’s shoulder before she headed for the tree line that circled the back of the camp and ended close to where Julius was standing. Once she was out of sight of her men, she started running, anxious to get on with why she was there.
“I wondered when they’d send someone,” Julius said when she stood behind him, but still in the trees. He’d obviously sensed her, but his guards had not. “Do you remember this from your life before the Clan? Do you miss the excitement before a battle, and the anticipation of victory?”
“I fought for my pharaoh and for Egypt, but I never found the slaughter and loss of my men exciting.”
“From here you can almost smell their fear,” he said when she came to stand next to him and saw the Roman forces. “With our seven hundred thousand men, we outnumber them almost two to one, but even if the odds were reversed I’d still be confident of victory. I’ve never seen men fight with such cruel passion. This is the last battle before Rome bows at Attila’s feet and the world is his.”
“What’s your stake in this?” she asked, but searched for the Roman commander’s tent while she had this vantage point.
“Is that why you’re here? You’re going to stop me?”
“Why I’m here and what I’m planning to do depend on you, so answer my question. Why encourage the Hun to do all this for you?”
“The Elders you serve have turned into old men and women trapped forever in the bodies of their youth. While they sit and worry about the small problems like your brother, I’m shaping the world into a place of my making.”
“And you thought the way to best achieve it was to let this murdering savage rule through fear?” She asked to make him angry enough to make a mistake.
“It’s of no consequence to you or the ancient ones,” he said, and laughed as he walked behind her. When she didn’t turn around he laughed harder. “My plans will be known to them only when I’m ready, and you aren’t strong enough to stop me.” She heard him remove his sword from its sheath. “Especially if you turn your back on your enemy. Didn’t Morgaine teach you—”
“To never let my guard down,” she said as she turned with her sword in hand and stopped his downward stroke aimed at her head. Some of the soldiers nearby looked when their weapons met, but none of them moved to interfere. “I’m nothing but a weakling in your eyes, but don’t mistake that for weakness.”
He bore down harder as if trying to move her. “You play the part of a man well, but don’t mistake the fact that you aren’t, and because you aren’t, you’ll never best a fighter of my caliber.”
The arrogance she remembered made her give him what he wanted when she relaxed her hands quickly and stepped clear of the blow, but the sudden move made it easy to flick his sword out of his hand. “Go home to your books and your pets and leave the rule of power to fate,” she said. “Man isn’t perfect, but they don’t need our help when it comes to their future and who they’ll decide to follow. Our job is to fight to protect them from what they don’t understand, and not for personal gain.”
“You idiot—pretty words aren’t what these sheep need,” he said before he called his guards closer. “Are you good enough to defeat me and all of them?”
“I don’t need to,” she said as she sheathed her sword and smiled. “I’ll take a lesson from you about interference, and then I’ll come back for you.”
Oakgrove, Present Day
Piper put her cup down and Kendal noticed it was still full, as if she’d forgotten about it because she was so engrossed in her story. “You got to meet Attila the Hun?”
“I saw him a few times, but we never formally met. No one ever knew exactly what happened to him, but I was one of the factors that led to his death.” She stood and accepted a new tray from the servant at the door. “I would’ve been curious as to how far he would’ve gotten on his own merit, but Julius and his own agenda left me no choice but to interfere.”
“Did I ever read about you and didn’t realize it when I was in Gran’s history class?” Piper poured their drinks this time.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no. The only history books I’m acknowledged in are in Elder libraries. I’ve always fought only the things the Clan wants destroyed, so I didn’t often get involved like I did in this case.” She accepted her tea from Piper and added a large dollop of honey. “Every generation has to learn in their own way that the fighting is easy. Any army can defeat a weaker opponent, but the aftermath is the quagmire. The laurels heaped by history have always gone to those willing to fix what’s broken with the people and places they’ve crushed.”
“That’s not always the case, though. Sometimes tyrants win and reshape the people they conquer into something they don’t want to be, but have no choice but to follow.”
“You’re right, but that’s the definition of what many religions call free will. Even when people have history to fall back on, they choose to repeat it, especially when they fight for the wrong side.” She sighed and took a sip of her ho
t tea. “To win peace, you have to be completely different from what’s known, but even then there’s no guarantee people will follow a better path.”
“At least it’ll give us plenty to talk about for centuries, but right now I want to hear the rest of your story,” Piper said.
Northern Italy, AD 452
Erik waited for sunset before entering the Roman camp and making her way to the commander’s tent. The flames of the oil lamps fluttered when she pulled back the flap and entered by the back entrance, and the man she’d come to see jumped up in fright. He’d moved so fast his inkwell spilled over whatever he’d been writing, but he seemed more worried about her than that.
“Excuse my intrusion, but it’s important we talk before you lead your men to their deaths in the morning.” She sat on one of the benches where his section leaders probably sat when they were strategizing around the large table covered in maps and war plans.
“Who are you and how did you get in here?” he asked, still on his feet.
“I’m not an assassin. All I’m asking is for a few moments before you retire.”
The Roman sat but moved his sword closer before he did. “You still haven’t said who you are.”
“I’m an interested bystander trying to even the odds a bit.” She put her hands on the table to not present a threat and smiled. “The world will be a poorer place with the defeat of the Roman Empire, so I’d like to offer some advice to assure it doesn’t happen.”
“I’m Aspar Cirilius, and what gain are you after in this battle?” He moved to sit across from her.
“I’m Erik Wolver of the northern lands, and you could say I seek your favor, but I don’t.” She bowed her head in respect. “You have my word I’m here only to help you live out the day. Now,” she looked him in the eye, “it’s getting late and we’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“Tell me one reason I should trust you.”
“My greatest teacher told me to trust no one even if you consider them a friend, because no one can know what’s in another man’s heart.”
Aspar laughed and slapped the table. “Your strategy is for me not to trust you? That’s an interesting way of getting me to listen to you.”
“All I can offer is my advice, but it’s up to you to decide whether to listen. Only you know what’s in your heart, and you haven’t risen to your rank without the ability to know what’s worth your time and what’s false.”
He placed his elbows on the edge of the table and rested his head in his hands. The vulnerable position meant he trusted her not to hurt him, so maybe this wouldn’t be a waste of time.
“No matter what we’ve done, we haven’t been able to slow the Hun down. Our task is to stop him before he reaches Rome, but I’m beginning to believe he does fight with the sword of Mars as well as with his favor.”
She poured them both some wine and shook her head. “No man carries that much favor from any god, so let that fear go. All you need to know is that not every victory comes on the battlefield.” She told him her plan, and Aspar listened intently and didn’t stop her from moving some of his war models on his map to better position his men, the minor moves surprising him.
“Do you think it possible?” he asked.
“I do, and I wish you good fortune. May the gods smile upon you and your men, and may they grant you favor.” She stood and grasped arms with him.
“Will I see you again?”
“Perhaps, but if not, take care and know I’ll be watching your back.” She left by the same route she’d taken on the way in, staying vigilant until she was safely away into the forest.
“You’re wrong, warrior,” she heard a woman say as the darkness closed in on her.
“About what?” The old woman was stooped and walked with a cane. Asra almost laughed that she’d gotten by her well-honed defenses—she didn’t know the woman was there until she spoke.
“The favor of the gods. It doesn’t happen often, but there are times when favor is granted willingly to someone like you, perhaps, or the Hun king as a reward for his battle skills.”
She moved closer to see the woman’s face clearly because her voice sounded so familiar. “Attila has enjoyed luck, not the blessing of any god. Trust me in that because there’s no divine intervention afoot.”
The old woman reached inside her cloak and removed something wrapped in what looked like rags. “What if I could give you a sword blessed by the gods?”
Asra laughed, but not loud enough to draw any unwanted attention. “If you speak the truth, why not keep it?”
“I’m no fighter, Erik the Wolf.” The nickname had been given to her by the Viking king after their first hunt together. “The one who owns and wields this sword must also be pure of heart, and I’m not always that.”
The woman’s clothing and jewelry were common to the tribes who’d aligned themselves with the Romans. “It’s not often I meet a woman honest enough to admit not being pure of heart, but you seem harmless enough. Tell me why you think that?”
She’d get back to how the woman knew her name once she answered.
“Most people don’t have time to redeem the misdeeds of their youth, but you,” the woman grabbed her by the wrist, “have all the time in the world to continue the good life you had before.” She let her go and lifted her fingers to her brow. “Don’t be frightened. I simply saw you in my dreams and thought you’d come to me sooner. I thank the gods for giving me enough life to lay eyes on you.”
“Is that how you know so much about me? Your dreams are that vivid?”
“All I want is to give you a gift, not to bring you harm.” She held her bundle up again. “If you accept, I ask for only one thing in return.”
Asra helped the woman deeper into the forest, not wanting to be so close to the Roman guards. “I’ve learned many times that most gifts come with a price, so I don’t expect this to be any different.” Her new friend clung to her arm as if enjoying her company. “Have we met before this? Your voice sounds so familiar to me.” The other strange thing was that for such a frail-looking woman, she had a strong grip.
“Who I am isn’t important. All that matters is if you’ll accept my gift.” She handed her what Asra guessed was the blessed sword. “You’ll never regret having it, you have my word.”
“And what will you expect in return?”
“That you fight the good fight when called. As you told the Roman tonight, the world will be a better place without people like the Hun in it.”
“And for that you’ll give me a blessed sword to make the battles easier?”
“That’s my bargain, but you must answer tonight.”
“Keep your gift for someone more worthy. I need no gift for helping the Roman turn the fight in his favor. If the Hun chooses to fight tomorrow, it’ll be the beginning of the end for him even if he lives out the day.” She studied the woman’s face in the moonlight and felt she was not what she seemed. The frail body was too strong, and her blue eyes had a vibrancy Asra could see even with the low light.
“Do you say that because the Visigoths are beyond that hill?” The woman pointed to where another army lay in wait out of even Julius’s sight. “At sunrise they will gain much from the Romans, but at a huge sacrifice.”
“That’s probably true, but every soldier knows the risks.” The witching hour was close, and she wanted to get back to her men before they came in search of her. “With your insight I should’ve sent you to speak to the Roman.”
“It’s why I offer you this gift. Your insight is better than even mine.”
“Can I see you home?” She offered her arm, ready to be done with the conversation.
“Your answer is still no?”
“Keep it for the one you’ve searched for of pure heart.”
“Go then.” The woman came close and touched her cheek. “Your men wait and tomorrow will be long for all of us.” The woman’s hands were soft and warm, and they made her close her eyes and think how long it’d been since she’d been wi
th anyone. “May the gods keep you safe for the years you must face alone.” The woman’s voice seemed to weave a spell she didn’t want to break. “Keep your faith because the day will come when your seeking ends and your deeds are rewarded.”
When Asra opened her eyes the woman was gone, and she almost believed she’d conjured her up. This wasn’t the time for her mind to crack, so she laughed at her overactive imagination. The only thing to concentrate on of any importance was the battle to come and her responsibility to sit and watch. She’d only send her men into the fray if the Romans and their backup started to lose and they were needed to turn the tides of war in favor of the lesser evil.
Oakgrove, Present Day
“The lesser evil?” Piper asked.
“The Romans weren’t as savage as Attila and his men, but they had a taste for battle that would’ve kept the world at war for generations. It was that and the excesses of their leaders, though, that led to the fall of the Empire and brought about the Dark Ages.”
“Was the old woman real, or did you slip into la-la land from the stress?”
“You’re hilarious,” she said, but kissed Piper anyway. “Let me finish and you tell me.”
Viking Camp, AD 452
“Get some rest, Leif, and tell the others to as well. Everyone in both camps is as tight as a bowstring, so I doubt we’re of any concern to either of them.”
She was so sure they weren’t in any danger that she posted no guards, and after the men went to their tents, the night fell silent. She doused the lamp in her tent and sat on her bedroll with a cup of wine, content to wait for sunrise. All her strategy was played out, but she reviewed her plan again on the off chance she’d forgotten something.
As she brought her cup up for another sip, her tent flap opened and a woman stepped inside. It was dark, but even so, she knew this wasn’t the old woman from earlier, though they were similar in height and build. When the woman relit the lamp and dropped her robe, Asra was amazed by her visitor’s flawless, stunning beauty. She’d never seen any woman who rivaled or came close to such perfection.