The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  Ipid’s head was falling to the desk when the cool hand caught it in a caress that rose up his cheek and through his hair. He shot up. The pot of ink before him toppled. His pen flew. Ink pooled on his papers and crept down the angle of the table toward his lap. He did nothing to stop it. His attention was focused on the space to his side. There was nothing there, but someone had touched him. He had not dreamed that. He was sure of it, but his eyes said otherwise. Finally, his other senses caught up. In the silence of the night he heard a rustling, a muffled giggle, a shifting. He still felt the cold along his cheek where the hand had touched him. And most telling of all, he smelled lavender rising ever so slightly over wool and hair and musk. He knew that smell immediately.

  He reached out a hand. “Eia?” he asked. His hand found a slim hip covered by course wool. His other found its opposite, and Eia materialized with a giggle from the thin air.

  She held her hand over her mouth to restrain her laughter. Her dark eyes sparkled in the light of the lamp, white skin glowing. The hood of her robe was thrown back, showing the cascade of luminescent hair flowing down her back, seeming to generate its own light in the dim room. “You found me,” she said, a laugh lighting her face so that Ipid could not help but smirk.

  “What are you doing here?” he finally asked, fighting to find the indignation he knew he should have.

  “You might want to clean up that ink,” she said, pointing to the desk. “It’s dripping on your pants.”

  Ipid looked back at the table, saw the black puddle covering his notes, soaking through all the sheets piled there before him, and running in a think line down the desk to slowly drip onto his, thankfully, black pants. He jumped then searched frantically for something he could use to contain the puddle. Eia supplied a rag with another laugh. He put it to immediate use. He stained his hands black trying to save them, but his notes were ruined. He held the pages up. The ink had permeated them, reaching down through five sheets, leaving only his very first scribbles.

  He threw the pages back onto the table and scowled. “I’ve been working on those all night.” He launched himself from his seat and circled away from Eia.

  “I know. I’ve been watching.” Eia laughed. “It was quite a process. I now see why you required so much time at your desk when you should have been in your bed.”

  “How long have you been standing there?” Ipid could not decide how he felt about having Eia there. His mind fought itself, flashing between images of her held in his arms and images of her splattered with blood screaming invectives.

  “Long enough,” she bent toward the desk and looked at the papers. “None of it was a loss, you know.”

  “What do you mean? I spent all night on that. I was just starting to get my head around it. And what were you doing spying on me? Did Arin send you? Or . . . or Belab?”

  “Those two?” Eia laughed again. “If either of them knew I was here, they would ensure I never saw you again. Belab likes for me to be near you, to keep you safe, but if he knew the extent of our relationship, I am sure he would find another of our order perform that duty. No, I came because I wanted to see you. I wanted to be with you, to help you.”

  “Then why were you invisible?” Ipid backed away from her, wariness winning out over desire.

  “Because I like to watch you work. You are so focused, so intense. If only I could get you to focus on me like that . . . .” She tilted her head, eyes suggesting.

  Ipid took a step away from her, feeling hunted. “I . . . Eia . . . I don’t think we should. I mean, after what happened yesterday. I don’t . . . I mean, I don’t think we are. . . .”

  “What are you babbling about? You mean the things I said in your house?” She laughed then turned serious. “I told you, I needed your emotions at an absolute pique to be able to transport you here. I am sorry I hurt your feelings, but that was the entire point. Haven’t we been over this enough times for you to know that I didn’t mean any of it? It was necessary. Again, judge the ends rather than the means.”

  Ipid was not convinced. He knew what he had heard, what he had seen. He kept his distance. “What about those men you killed? There was no show in that.”

  Eia lowered her head. She took a deep breath and brought her hands to her face then up through her hair until her fingers were trapped. Finally, her eyes rose, looking suddenly old and tired. “I . . . you are right. That was not a show. That was terrible. I . . . I did things that I will have to live with for the rest of my life. They were my decisions, and I accept them, but they were horrifying decisions, and I will always regret them. That said, those were terrible men.” She paused, face turning hard, eyes holding his. “I thought they had killed you. They saw me coming and tried to ambush me just inside the door. If I had not sensed them, they might have succeeded. And then what do you think they would have done to me. The same thing they did to the woman we saw? And if they had done those things? If they had raped me? Beaten me? Left me for dead or slit my throat? What punishment would you assign them?”

  Ipid shuddered at the images of Eia being beaten, stripped, raped, killed, screaming in fear, begging, crying. “I would have killed them,” he heard himself say.

  Eia nodded. “For me, it is in many ways worse. I could feel their emotions, their hatred, their darkness, their anticipation, their desire to hurt me. I could feel the depths of their depravity. I could almost feel the things they intended to do. It was almost as if they had already done them. And then to think that they had killed you. . . . Well, you know what happened. It was wrong. I admit that, but I cannot change it now. I cannot take it back. I can only live with my decisions and use it to guide my choices in the future. Do you understand?”

  Ipid did. Suddenly, it all made sense. He had seen those men, had heard their threats, had witnessed what they were capable of doing. He could imagine how Eia, how any woman would have reacted to finding them, to knowing their intent. And if that woman could defend herself as Eia could? He suddenly felt sorry for her.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” she said, voice small and sad. “I knew that I had to pique your emotions, but I see now that I was too far into my own, that those men had turned me into a monster, and I turned that monster on you. It was necessary, but it went too far. Can you forgive me?”

  Ipid nodded. He moved toward her, arms out. She fell into him, burying her face in his chest. He rested his cheek on her head, senses filling with her. He thought she might cry, might release the emotions she clearly felt, but she just sighed – almost as if bored.

  “So you forgive me?” she asked, sorrow in her voice making Ipid forget the sigh.

  “Of course. You did what you had to do. I am not sure I wouldn’t have done the same.” She stepped back from his chest and smiled. “Next time you need my emotions, can you just ask?”

  Eia laughed, wiping a cheek where there were no tears that Ipid could see. “I wish it were that easy, but you cannot just turn on genuine emotion. It has to be created by something. But that is enough of that. Now, let’s talk about what we’re going to do with this nation of yours. Then I can show you how sorry I really am.”

  Ipid stuttered. “What we’re going to do?”

  “Of course, I’m coming with you tomorrow. I said, the Belab likes for me to protect you, and you don’t think I’ll let you get away from me so easily, do you?”

  Ipid’s stopped. He had not even considered having Eia with him in Wildern, could not even imagine how he’d balance her demands with those of delivering on the Kingdoms’ promises to Arin.

  “I can help you.” Eia smiled. “I’ve seen this before. I know what has worked on my side of the mountains. You know your country and your people. I know the Darthur. But do not think it will be easy. For one as kind-hearted as you, it will be torture, but it can be done. Now, let’s talk about Arin’s demands.”

  Ipid sat back in his chair, simultaneously relieved and overwhelmed.

  “You are worried about the gold, but food is your real problem,” E
ia said from his shoulder. “People love gold; they need food. The Darthur have already stripped everything from the areas they’ve passed. Now, they will demand food from your entire nation, and you will have to give it to them or they will take it just as they did in Gurney Bluff.”

  The mention of the village, sent Ipid’s mind back to the massacre. He froze. Broken bodies, drying blood, dead staring eyes, and Arin’s utter indifference. ‘Clean up this mess.’ The words still echoes in his mind. The look on Arin’s face as he said them. The rage and fear at knowing how little the people of the Kingdoms meant to that monster.

  “Are you listening to me?” Eia asked and shook his arm. She was sitting on the corner of the desk now. “This is important. The Darthur are a nomadic people. They are almost never still, especially the men. If you give them what they want, they will leave your country as quickly as they came.”

  “But this list of demands.” Ipid searched his desk for the page Arin had given him. It was an ink-soaked blot of black. He had it memorized, but still felt its loss like a missing limb. He held it up to Eia as if it still made his point. “It will take months to gather all this.”

  “Weeks,” Eia corrected. “You have weeks. Arin will never give you months. Beside the fact that his army will have eaten every scrap of food in your nation by that time. Remember, every day they are here, you are feeding a hundred thousand additional mouths, and these are soldiers. They do not eat porridge and soup. They eat meat and bread. They drink beer and wine. They will strip your country clean. Your best course is to give them what they want and send them to ravage someone else.”

  “But . . . but, Liandria is our ally. Isn’t it our duty to give them time? How will the Darthur ever be defeated if we don’t stand together against them? If I can just hold them here, if we can . . . .”

  “Stop! You will not defeat them. As long as we are with them, they cannot be defeated. You have seen too much to still not understand this. The emotion of a battle gives us almost unlimited power. The very act of fighting, ensures the defeat of any enemy the Darthur face. Your only hope is to minimize the damage, to see them on their way, and hope they return home when they have completed their self-proclaimed mission of testing the world.”

  “So what are you saying? How can I possibly give the Darthur everything they ask in only a few weeks? They want . . . .”

  “It doesn’t matter. Trust me. The only thing worse than success will be failure. Anything you do will be better than what Arin will do if he must take what he wants at the point of a sword. Your people can have a few weeks of hunger or they can die in fire.”

  “So how do I do it? How can I get an entire nation to give up everything it has in only a few weeks?”

  “By being ruthless,” Eia said immediately. Her expression was as serious as Ipid had ever seen. There was no playfulness now. “I have seen it many times. Arin knows exactly what he’s doing. He has given you exactly what you need. He put you in charge but forbids you from keeping power. It allows you to do anything and everything necessary without consequences. You need make no friends, no alliances, no allies. You give the Darthur what they demand and then you leave.”

  “But . . . but, they will hate me. I will be remembered . . . .”

  “As a monster,” Eia completed the sentence without hesitation. “You will be remembered as a tyrant, a scourge, and a traitor. You will never be allowed to return, everything you have will be taken, everyone you love will turn on you. But Arin has guaranteed that already. Your reputation cannot be saved, but your people can. Only fear and ruthlessness will allow you to deliver what the Darthur want. Your perception as a traitor makes you feared, allows you to be what your country needs. If you hesitate to use that gift, you will fail. Thousands upon thousands will die.”

  Ipid sat back. He knew that Eia was right. He had been circling it, avoiding it, but she was right. He knew the resources available in the Kingdoms. The only way the figures added up was to do exactly what Eia said. He could succeed only when he allowed himself to be hated, when he allowed his people to starve, when he stole from them, threaten them, intimidate them. Only then. “So what do we do?”

  Eia smiled at that. Her hand came to his cheek, it was freezing. “You take me to your bed. In the morning, we begin.”

  Ipid’s was lost, so overwrought that he could not resist as Eia guided him from the chair toward the bed in the corner of the room. He barely saw her as her robe came off and she climbed on top of him. “You will do what you must,” she whispered between kisses. “Because you love your people, you will make them hate you.” She loosened his shirt, pulled at his pants, kissed his neck and chest. “You can do it. You can do what must be done, can be what you must be.” Her hand caressed him, breath in his ear, body pressed close. “You can take them to the edge of the Maelstrom. It is the only way to save them.”

  Chapter 19

  The 23rd Day of Summer

  The knock practically shook the room. Ipid jumped from his sleep, would have flown entirely from the bed except for the warm weight still on top of him. “Sun rising,” a voice bellowed through the wood in Darthur. Footsteps followed, fading down the hall.

  Ipid lowered himself back onto the pillow. Eia covered him, lying exactly as they had ended the night before, head on his chest, body pressed close. They could not have slept more than an hour. Ipid had been so exhausted, that he had barely stayed awake long enough to finish. Obviously, Eia had done no better.

  She moved slowly on top of him, moaned, and lifted her head. “Good morning.” She brought her mouth up to his and kissed him. “I need to get you thinking more often. You lasted far longer than usual. And such a nice way to fall asleep . . . and wake. We could pick up right where we left off.” She moaned and moved her hips.

  “We need to go, my dear,” Ipid groaned through her kisses. Luckily his body was not responding, or he’d have never been able to stop her. His mind, however, went to right where it had stopped. Can I do what needs to be done? Can I be hated? Can I be the tyrant that my people need? Shaking his head with the burden of those thoughts, he rolled out from beneath Eia, found his small clothes and began pulling them on.

  Eia crawled up his back, nails digging into his shoulders. She kissed his ear. “You’re right, of course,” she whispered. “But I’d rather you reconsidered.”

  “And if Arin or Belab finds you here?”

  “Always so practical, you. You probably think that saving thousands of lives is more important than spending the day in bed with me.”

  Despite the darkness of this thoughts, Ipid could not help but laugh. “Just barely.” He kissed her then stood and walked to the wardrobe where he had hung his suits. When he turned back around, Eia was just pulling the black robe back over her head. He watched it fall, providing a last look at her slim body from breast to bare white feet. The hood went up after, concealing her smile.

  “Remember what we talked about last night,” she said from the hood. “There is no time for hesitation or doubt. I will help you, but you must set the tone from the first moment.” She walked across the room and took his hand in hers. “I believe in you,” she assured, staring into his eyes through the hood. In the darkness of the predawn room, the glimmer of her dark eyes was the only feature he could see. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She released him and turned to the door. She slipped through it, a shadow in the dark hall, and disappeared as quickly and quietly as she had come the night before.

  #

  Two mammoth Darthur escorted Ipid to the front of a column of warriors facing down the road toward Wildern. The sun was just rising above the city, obscured by the haze of smoke that still rose from the devastation. From the slight hill, Ipid could see the jumbled chaos of those districts like great pocks in the otherwise regular flow of streets, buildings, walls, and river. Pride, he reminded himself. Pride brought us to this. We were always defeated, could never fight. We must kneel, or this will happen again and again. But this time, it will be my fault.
I will not be able to blame Arin or Kavich. The blood will be on my hands. My pride is a paltry price.

  As he walked past, Ipid counted fifty warriors, men who would do anything he asked, men who had no respect for life, who held no scruples beyond their so-called honor. Could he bring himself to use them? He took a deep breath and tried to find the persona he meant to assume. You know how to be hard, he told himself. You were not sentimental in your mills. You did what had to be done so that the corporation would survive and grow. This is no different. People will be hurt. Some will die. That is what happens when you do great things. You can’t build a house until you cut down a tree. Haven’t you said that a thousand times to your managers? Is it any different now?

  Arriving at the front of the line, he looked at the tall horse that awaited him with almost as much dismay as he felt for what he would soon be forced to do to his country. He sighed. It was a fine specimen – far better than the shaggy pony he had ridden as a te-adeate – but all that much higher off the ground, that much faster, that much harder to get onto and off of. Coaches, he thought as he struggled onto the horse. When I am tyrant, I will ride in coaches.

  The warriors around him did not bother to hide their chuckles and derision at his struggles. He tried to ignore the laughs as he always did, but they had special meaning this day. If his guards laughed at him when they arrived in the city, he was as good as dead.

  The arrival of a final two riders brought the warriors into line and changed the nature of Ipid’s apprehension entirely. He had expected to see Eia joining them, but who was the second figure? For a moment, he thought it might be Belab come to see them off, but this figure sat straight in the saddle. His movement was steady and sure. He was a young man (or woman, Ipid thought with another spasm of anxiety). Eia fell in at Ipid side, her fellow remaining slightly behind. Just enough light made it over the horizon and through the haze surrounding the city to reveal Eia’s smile. She looked up at him knowingly and winked. He could not find a smile to return.