“Brave for you to venture north of the Elkhan, Empress, even in the company of these men. There are many Kairon here, and they have no love for you nor your people. Given the chance, they would kill you without a second thought—food has been particularly scarce this year.”
“I sympathize, Arsenath,” the Empress replied, ignoring the threat. “I have likewise struggled to feed my people in the face of the drought that stalks the land. It is one of the reasons I have come to speak with you, that we might bring mutual prosperity to our two peoples.”
“Intriguing, but ultimately irrelevant,” said Arsenath, dismissing her comments out of hand. “If the Disciples answer poorly this meeting may end before we can discuss your proposal.”
“Perhaps you have forgotten the order of things, Arsenath,” Jonas interjected before the Warchief could continue. “As Disciples we speak for Mythos, and you do our will as we seek to spread his glory among the stars. Such has always been the way between our people.”
“It is not I that have forgotten the way of things, Disciple!” the Warchief shouted, his voice raised for the first time. “We have not deviated from the oath our Elders swore, but you have. My father’s father was Warchief, when our people were led by the Disciple of Mythos to this place through the portal. Your kind promised the Kairon prosperity if we served Mythos, which we have, without ceasing.
“We followed your kind here to this world, but in the dead of night Mythos abandoned us, or his Disciple did, never to be seen again. We have suffered here without the bounty of Mythos for over a century, abandoned by the God whom we have served so faithfully all these years. Now our numbers have swollen and we lack the means to feed the Herd. We are imprisoned here, unable to bridge the Elkhan—we have hunted this land bare to survive. If we do not take action soon the Herd will turn on itself to survive.”
Arsenath leveled his gaze at Jonas: “If your kind had not abandoned us here we would never be stuck here as we are now.”
Jonas was perplexed as he responded: “You say you followed a Disciple to this world?”
“Indeed, my grandfather told me so with his own lips,” the creature replied. “We lack the knowledge to travel between worlds, but one of your kind arrived without warning and ordered our Herd to travel here. Once we had arrived here the portal was sealed and the Disciple disappeared, abandoning us to our fate. We have tried to carry out our duty but it is difficult when we must fight just to feed our people.”
“I am the first of our kind to travel here, Arsenath,” Jonas said. “I have pored over the archives and studied the celestial maps in the Room of Realms for hours. None have been here before me.”
“Then your records are incomplete, Jonas. My grandfather had no need to lie. One of your kind brought us here. We could not have traveled here of our own accord. You must see that.”
“Indeed,” Jonas replied, unsettled at the revelation. “Did your grandfather give you a name for the Disciple who led you here? I will find out what occurred—you have my word.”
“Your word means little to me, Disciple. A hundred years of abandonment have eroded what faith our people had in your kind, but for what it is worth his name was Nostriminus.”
“Nostriminus?” Jonas asked. “I have never before heard of such a Disciple. I will make inquiries upon my return to Triskaria.
“Be sure you do,” Arsenath said in displeasure, “for I will have an answer for the neglect we have suffered. After a hundred years, what brings you here now?”
“Mythos reaches out to this world,” Alsarius added, spreading his arms. “We have come to bring its people into his fold. The conversion has already begun—Yaneera and the Andarans are the first to join us. Others will follow soon. Andaran scouts report your activities along the Elkhan have increased of late. No doubt you intended to cross the river as its waters fell . . .”
“Indeed. The Herd has grown fast and we are struggling to survive. As you know, we have a nomadic nature, but this river prevents us moving beyond the land we conquered when we first set foot on this world. The mountains in the north are treacherous for our kind. The only option for our people is to move west or south. The river to our west is twice as broad as the Elkhan to our south, and Andara’s lands are extensive and her people numerous. They would have fed the Herd for many years.”
“You would eat our people?” Yaneera cried out, shocked.
“We eat anything to survive,” the Warchief responded casually.
“But we are people . . .” The Empress struggled with the notion.
“And?” Arsenath responded unapologetically. “Do you not raise beasts for the same purpose?”
“We do, but they are cattle—it is not the same,” she explained. “They are inferior to us.”
“To us you are cattle . . . inferior but delicious. More bones than I would prefer, but a starving Kairon cannot be fussy.”
Yaneera turned to Jonas. “Tell me he jests—tell me this is some sort of amusement you are having at my expense.”
“The Warchief speaks honestly, Empress,” Alsarius responded. “The Kairon will truly consume all in their path. There are many reasons worlds come into the fold—and one of them is a fear of the Herd.”
“This world would have long since known that fear, Jonas,” Arsenath interjected. “But the land itself tempers our wrath. We must hunt soon or the Herd will begin to feed on itself. Only the strong will survive and our Herd will be devastated. Those we took this land from may seize on our weakness and return to purge those who remain.”
“He means Vitaem,” Yaneera whispered to Jonas. “The Kairon drove them from the land when they arrived. They were forced to take refuge on their island in the Elkhan to save what remained of their people.”
“Indeed,” Arsenath agreed, “the miserable little humans fled to their island, but we see their scouts traveling the river. They are always eyeing their old domain. If we give them an opportunity they will attempt to seize it back.”
“Then we find ourselves on the same side, Arsenath,” Jonas said, “ . . . as was always meant to be. The people of Vitaem are at war with Andara. We seek your help to crush them beneath our heel . . . along with the others who have not received us.”
“The Herd cannot harm them while they are holed up on their little island,” Arsenath responded. “Even if the Herd were starving we’d sooner turn on each other than enter the water.”
“I understand, Arsenath—you forget I know your people well. You also spoke of lands to the west of the Elkhan. The people that inhabit those lands have rejected our messengers without even granting them the opportunity to speak. Such an offense must be rewarded in kind.
“We will aid you in entering the island of Vitaem,” Jonas continued. “The waters that have hindered you thus far are naught to us. I will provide you the means of entering their lands and you may do with them as you wish, once you have done as we expect.”
“And what do you expect in return?” Arsenath retorted skeptically.
“—for the Herd to return to its rightful place in the fold and aid us as we seek to destroy all those who will not follow the light of Mythos.”
“What of the island people?” Arsenath asked. “If we attack those far to our west the Herd will be weakened. Those hiding on their island may get the opportunity against us that they seek.”
“I will deal with them, Arsenath,” the Disciple replied. “While their stronghold protects them against the Herd, its walls of water are of little consequence to me. The Vitaem will be in no position to hinder or hunt your Herd.
And once you have conquered the lands to the west,” he continued simply, “we will require your aid when we move south.”
“What if we choose not to aid you? What if we do not wish to return to being your slaves?”
“Come now, Arsenath—the Kairon have never been slaves. Your kind have been blessed and rewarded for their service in the cause of Mythos.”
“Still,” Arsenath insisted, “what if we
decide we do not wish to return? We have been free of you Disciples for almost a century—what if we were to decide we prefer this life to one of servitude?”
“I have shown you the carrot, Arsenath—if you serve you will be rewarded with lands beyond measure. If you force my hand you shall find the stick, and it will not be to your liking.”
Arsenath rose quickly and drew himself up to his full height. The Warchief towered over the large Disciple. Leaning close enough that his every breath could be felt on the Disciple’s face he glowered at him. “You would threaten me here, in my house? I could kill you before you could lift a hand to stop me.”
Jonas didn’t move an inch as he inclined his head to address the Warchief: “Ah, but you see there are two of us Disciples, and we are both prepared to die for our cause. Know that as we do so we will take your Herd with us. The few that survive will be purged from the land by the Disciples who will come after us, three of whom are already on this world. This world will serve Mythos, and all who don’t will be cleansed from it. That includes the Herd.
“Make your choice,” Jonas declared. “I am ready to play whichever part is required of me. Are you?”
The Warchief sighed and lowered himself back to his place on the plush carpet. “If you can deliver on your promise to bridge the Elkhan, the Herd will join your cause. If you betray us as Nostriminus did, we will consume this world, even those in your precious fold.”
“Then gather the Herd and let us travel to the Elkhan’s bank,” Jonas replied confidently. “Your new lands await you, Arsenath.”
“I will send word to the other Chieftains. Those not already here will meet us at the ford where the Tears of the Elkhan break off from the waters of the Elkhan. It will take us time to prepare. Rest as our guests and we will depart at first light tomorrow.”
“Very well, Arsenath,” said Jonas. “Welcome back to the fold.”
“We will see, Jonas,” the Warchief responded, pointing to the door.
The Disciple bowed and left the shelter, followed by Yaneera and Alsarius.
When they were back in the sunlight, Yaneera turned to Jonas and spoke sharply: “You didn’t tell me they will eat those they conquer!”
Jonas grabbed the Empress’s arm and pulled her close, gesturing for her to be silent. “It is the way of things. Dead is dead—what does it matter if those who oppose us are food for the Kairon?”
The Empress shook her head as she thought: It feels like it matters.
Chapter 20
The journey along the Tears of the Elkhan proved uneventful. With each passing hour, the ranks of the Kairon seemed to swell as the nomadic tribes arrived and joined the Warchief’s host at the water’s edge. Yaneera marveled at their numbers as the humans more slowly approached the river.
After waiting what seemed an eternity for Jonas, Arsenath approached. The imposing Kairon was now arrayed for war. His flanks and stomach were covered in plate armor that matched his breastplate and shimmered in the late-afternoon sun. In his hand he carried an enormous warhammer, the weapon itself almost as tall as the Disciple, and yet the creature hefted it easily. To see the Warchief charging toward one would be to know one’s death approached. Yaneera cowered instinctively, and even Jonas paused.
“We are ready, Disciple,” Arsenath stated calmly but the excitement in his voice was all too evident. “Most of the Herd have arrived. Those who have not will remain in this land until we venture south. Are you ready to deliver on your promise?”
“Of course,” replied Jonas. “Be ready to cross on my signal, Arsenath—our window of opportunity will be limited. Cleanse the western lands of Tres Cidea. Relish your spoils. I will send word when we are ready to move south to Vitaem.”
Arsenath motioned to a nearby Kairon. The beast drew to its lips a warhorn and sounded a long, piercing note that rang out across the water as it carried through the clear afternoon air. Jonas had little doubt it could be heard in Vitaem—the city’s walls were visible from the headwaters of the Tears. Yaneera thought of the ranks of terrified soldiers gazing out at the horde of Kairon assembling at the water’s edge. And Jonas quietly mumbled, “Soon they will have more than the Kairon to contend with.”
As the horn call ceased the Kairon gathered row upon row, until they were all Yaneera could see before her. The dense mass of creatures completely obscured her view of the river that lay ahead.
“Alsarius, it is time,” Jonas called. Alsarius made his way over to where his brother and Yaneera waited. “We will take care of two birds with one stone, brother,” Jonas said quietly as Alsarius joined him.
“You mentioned you have a plan for Vitaem, Jonas, what do you have in mind?” The Disciple asked.
“The Elkhan.” Jonas replied. “It is both the problem and the solution.”
Alsarius looked at his brother with confusion very evident on his face. Jonas smiled. “Lend me your strength, brother.” Yaneera trembled at what it might mean.
Jonas stood on the rocky promontory overlooking the river’s winding course and began to chant. As he did so, the waters of the Elkhan began to stir. Arcane energy coursed through the air as the Disciples channeled it towards the river that gave life to Sevalorn. As the energy struck the river it began to confine and constrict its course. As the incantation continued a wall materialized from the river’s surface, it stretched down to the riverbed and towered up into the sky. The translucent red barrier prevented the river from running its regular course.
To the right of the barrier the water level began to rise as it found its course blocked. As the water level rose, so, too did the barrier before it. Downstream on the left of the barrier the water level began to fall rapidly. No longer fed by the river, its precious waters ran downstream and away towards Vitaem in the distance.
As Jonas labored under the exertion, Alsarius joined the effort, adding his voice to his brother’s. His energy strengthened the barrier and it continued to grow. As the seconds turned to minutes the body of water began to swell and build behind the arcane dam the Disciples had constructed. After ten minutes the water level downstream had dropped so significantly that the riverbed began to be visible. Without breaking his incantation, Jonas turned to Arsenath and nodded.
The Warchief of the Kairon made his way down towards the river. As he approached the edge of the riverbed, he looked up at the enormous wall of water constrained by the red barrier. The waters were swelling rapidly. But squaring his shoulders, Arsenath ventured into the drying riverbed. His hooves sank into the soft mud and for a moment the Kairon seemed in danger of disappearing into the silt that sucked hungrily at his legs. As the mud passed his fetlocks Arsenath felt his hooves strike bedrock. Gaining traction, the Kairon moved forward across the riverbed.
As Arsenath reached the center of the river he picked up the pace. In less than a minute the Warchief was rising out of the river onto the opposing bank. It was difficult to make out his expression from where the humans were waiting, but his excitement was evident as he raised his warhammer high above his head and let out a bloodcurdling bellow.
With one accord the Kairon surged into the riverbed after their Warchief. Mud churned beneath the stampeding hooves but the Herd moved safely across the diminished Elkhan and gathered on the opposing bank. As thousands of Kairon streamed across the riverbed Arsenath turned westward and bellowed at the horizon. At his signal the Herd stormed into the distance.
As Yaneera watched the thousands of Kairon disappear into the sunset horizon she felt a sense of pity for the people of Cidea. With the safety of the Elkhan withheld from them, they would be victim to the merciless Kairon, who would loot, pillage and kill all in their path. The marauding Kairon were known to kill for sport, and the knowledge that the Herd was starving and looking to feed chilled Yaneera to her core.
They didn’t need to die, Yaneera thought, wrestling with herself once more. If it weren’t for the pride of their foolish leaders, the Cideans could have embraced the Disciples and all they offered. But, t
he Kairon are starving and need to eat—is the life of a Kairon worth less than that of a human in the arithmetic of the cosmos? Yaneera argued with herself again: or am I simply trying to justify the genocide of an entire people?
Yaneera shook herself from her thoughts in time to see the last of the Kairon vanish into the distance. To her right she could see the Elkhan constrained by the forces of the Disciples. It was swelling quickly—its waters had almost risen to where she and the Disciples stood waiting.
Jonas and Alsarius were visibly tiring as they struggled under the tremendous exertion of maintaining the barrier. As the water level reached the hill they stood on Jonas ceased chanting. Without his brother’s aid the pressure was terrible, and Alsarius feared his constitution would give out under the strain.
Jonas called out, “Let it go, Alsarius—we are done here.”
Relieved, Alsarius followed his brother’s lead and the barrier burst. The noise of the water was overwhelming as it surged down its previous course. Swollen out of proportion by the Disciples’ manipulations, the wall of water hurtled towards Vitaem and broke the bounds of the river as it descended upon the city. The water dispersed as it rolled onwards, but from his vantage point it was clear it was enough. Yaneera trembled at the destruction.
Jonas glanced from the tsunami surging over Vitaem to where the Kairon were disappearing over the horizon towards Tres Cidea. The Disciple’s face broke into a smile.
“Yaneera, have the men set up camp. We will be safe here—Alsarius and I must rest before we are fit to travel.”
Yaneera examined the Disciple’s smiling countenance and a realization dawned on her. This was the first time she had seen the Disciple openly joyous. That was troubling indeed.
Chapter 21
Vitaem’s northern walls
Tanith peered into the distance, mesmerized by the sight. The Elkhan’s waters appeared to be drying before his very eyes. It was as if the river had stopped flowing. As the waters receded Tanith watched in terror as the largest force of Kairon he had ever seen in his life surged across the ebbing river into Cidea.
When The Gods War: Book 2 - Chronicles of Meldinar Page 15