The Lost Country

by Brian Bakos

  Away from the glare of watchful eyes, I am finally able to relax a bit. The luxurious seat embraces me; I savor the aroma of its fine leather.

  Father reaches over and takes my hands into his own.

  “Son, this is the greatest day of my life,” he says. “My heart is at peace knowing that a prince as excellent as yourself will succeed me as king.”

  I feel proud enough to burst.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  But my heart is crying out in anguish: Stay right here, time! Why do you have to move on?

  But, of course, time does move on. After a bumpy ride over the cobblestones, our carriage arrives at the West Gate where the mighty procession is being assembled.

  13: Dreadful Arrivals

  Mist shrouded Demon’s Maw pass with a ghost-like presence; time stood frozen on the slope. Lieutenant Talbot guided his horse up the steep, crumbly road. Its hoof dislodged a stone which tumbled noiselessly in the dank air.

  Ahead rode Captain Afflis, stretching forward in his saddle against the incline. Coldness radiated from him, chilling the air further. Yet inside the man, Talbot knew, raged a bonfire of greed and ambition. To the rear trudged the common men, over a hundred strong.

  “This is incredible,” Talbot muttered.

  He’d often heard Afflis speak of raiding the mysterious Western lands, but had always regarded this as just empty talk. Recent events had changed things, however. First, the messenger boy fled – to the Westlands, Afflis suspected. Then the ‘Devil Bird’ had appeared by the pass. It wouldn’t have come unless something valuable lay beyond the mountains, Afflis had said.

  The greenish-black creature was here now – gliding through the scud, its wings stretched into a diabolical V. The thing must have measured fifteen feet between wing tips. It cawed a terrifying, laughing screech. Talbot recoiled in his saddle.

  “That bird merits a crossbow shot,” he said.

  “Aye, tis an ugly monster,” Afflis said. “Best not to harm it, though, unless it seeks to attack.”

  The foot soldiers were in foul temper, but they kept walking – more afraid of Captain Afflis than of the bird or the of strange mists. Besides, Mulgar rode behind them ready to strike down any man who backtracked.

  They were a hungry and shabby lot, but their arms were all first rate. Each man carried sword and dagger. Many also shouldered poleaxes or cross bows. The recent taxation day had been profitable, and Afflis had traded all the booty to the sea pirates for new weapons.

  A man stumbled and fell, his poleax flew from his hands and nearly struck another man. Angry shouts rang out.

  “Quiet!” Afflis snapped. “I’ll brain the next one who makes a sound.”

  The bickering stopped instantly. With a final, ear-splitting screech, the bird disappeared down the slope.

  “See that?” Afflis called back to the men. “Didn’t I tell you it would leave us alone if we did not let it scare us?”

  Some of the men muttered agreement, most kept to their grim silence.

  ***

  Some time later, the invasion force neared the summit and halted on the trail.

  “Shall I take the point, sir?” Talbot asked.

  “Aye, Lieutenant,” Afflis said, “you’ve earned the honor.”

  Talbot maneuvered his horse to the column head and rode the final yards to the summit. As he neared the top, he felt his old life and his old self slipping off his shoulders. Whatever happened today, he would not be the same man after he’d glimpsed the Western lands.

  A biting wind assaulted him as he gained the top, flapping his cloak like frantic wings. Ahead of him, the road continued along the barren ground, then dropped over the far edge. Half way across stood a ruined gate and barracks, but not a living soul stood guard. His horse tugged at the reins, and Talbot slapped its neck.

  He twisted around in his saddle.

  “All clear, sir!”

  Afflis appeared, looking hard and determined, very much the leader. Then the men on foot appeared, shouldering their way against the wind. Mulgar gained the summit last, astride his great horse.

  “All present and accounted for, sir,” Mulgar said.

  Afflis nodded with icy approval.

  “Follow me!”

  The men began shuffling along behind Afflis and Talbot, but as they moved deeper into the pass, their steps became slower and slower. At the gate they stopped moving altogether.

  Afflis shot them a furious glance. “Move it!”

  They remained still. Afflis brandished his sword and rode into the crowd of fearful men. They stumbled back to avoid being trampled.

  “Here now, Cap’n,” one man said, “there’s stories warning about this place and the land beyond. About men what crossed over and never returned.”

  WHACK!

  Afflis struck him with the flat of his sword. The man staggered backwards clutching his injured shoulder. His companions grabbed him as he fell. Men gnashed their teeth, hands gripped weapons.

  “You ain’t afraid of them old women’s tales, are you?” Afflis said.

  The men snarled defiance, and the wind became a deafening roar. Talbot rode up to support Afflis. His hard eyes scanned the crowd for signs of rebellion.

  “Rich loot on the other side!” Afflis shouted. “Gold, silver, horses. Fine cattle and sheep, too. There’ll be feasting today, if you’re brave enough.”

  Greed flashed in the men’s eyes, but they didn’t move.

  “Come on, men,” Talbot said. “Or do you fancy standing all day in this roaring wind just so you don’t have to hear your bellies growl?”

  Despite their fear and rage, the bandits chuckled, and some of their anger faded. A few bolder ones started walking, others followed. Soon everyone had passed the border gate.

  Talbot and Afflis resumed their spot in the lead.

  “Curse those lazy dogs,” Afflis said. “Good work, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Talbot felt great pride at this approval from his chief, but also a tinge of pity for the struggling men.

  Was this not the way of the world, though? Either you were in control or somebody else controlled you. If you were stronger and smarter than the rest, you became a chieftain, like Afflis.

  Talbot had been on both sides. He’d tended sheep as a boy and was now stealing them. He’d risen to first lieutenant of the most feared bandit gang because he had a knack of keeping men calm and getting them to obey orders with minimum fuss.

  “Wait til we reach the other side, Talbot,” Afflis said. “Everything we’ve done before is just a trifle compared to what we’ll achieve.”

  Has the world ever been different? Talbot wondered.

  At least it was better to steal than to be stolen from, as he’d told himself many times. But did he truly believe that?

  Bah!

  Push such sentimental nonsense out of mind before it interfered with important matters.

  “Shall I scout ahead, sir?” Talbot asked.

  “Yes, do that.”

  Talbot urged his horse toward the far end of the pass. The rim approached, a sharp divide between earth and sky. He dismounted and continued on foot.

  The air seemed to thicken. Talbot forced himself on, covering the last few yards like a man struggling through a strong river current. Then he halted, dazzled by the most beautiful vista he’d ever seen ...

  Below him stretched a glorious country. He saw broad fields of ripening grain, orchards and vineyards. Villages dotted the land, and splendid woods covered the low, rolling hills. A small, but magnificent, walled city reposed by a sparkling lake. The sun showered warmth through great billowy clouds. Talbot felt it, even amid the biting wind.

  “The Golden Land,” he murmured, “there really is such a place.”

  “What did I tell you?” he heard Afflis say. “We were fools to stay away so long.”

  With a thud Talbot returned to his real world. Afflis was standing beside him, chuckling softly, a ha
rd gleam in his eye. Talbot was struck by how ugly the Captain was – the big hooked nose, the stringy hair.

  Talbot became aware of his own squalor. His clothes were dirty, his beard itched. He felt longings he could not understand. The other bandits now joined them. Many wore vicious leers. Others looked stunned.

  “This is the new beginning!” Afflis cried.

  “Long live Captain Afflis!” the men cheered.

  Mulgar pointed toward the walled city. “How about the folk in that town? They’ll be happy to see us, eh?”

  “They’re fat as sheep, waitin’ for us to sheer em!” someone cried.

  A chorus of lusty cheers agreed with the sentiment.

  “All right, men,” Afflis said, “twenty minutes rest.”

  The men arrayed themselves as comfortably as possible in the swirling air. Afflis drew Talbot aside by some boulders where the wind’s power was lessened somewhat.

  “What do you think, Lieutenant?” he asked.

  “I think my Captain is a man of rare vision,” Talbot replied. “The plunder should be magnificent.”

  “Yes, of course.” Afflis gestured toward the men. “We must satisfy these louts, and those who come after, too. We’ll need them all.”

  “Sir?”

  “Tomorrow, you’ll head back east to recruit more men,” Afflis said. “Before the other chiefs know what’s happening, we’ll lure away their strength. Then we can build our kingdom.”

  “I-I am not sure I understand,” Talbot said.

  “Come now, Lieutenant, you can’t think this is just another raid.”

  “Well ... no,” Talbot said.

  Afflis looked toward the horizon. “I’m in my fortieth year, Talbot – older than most.”

  “But sir, your vigor and power are unquestioned.”

  “Time runs on,” Afflis said. “I’ll not leave this world as nothing more than a gang leader.”

  Talbot stroked his beard, said nothing. Great things were being planned that he had never considered.

  “Think of it,” Afflis said, “the Western and Eastern lands united under a single ruler.”

  “A grand ambition, indeed,” Talbot said.

  “I’ll need much aid from you,” Afflis said, “and when I’m gone, you will be my successor.”

  Talbot was thunderstruck.

  “My Captain does me too much honor!”

  “Nonsense,” Afflis said. “I have no son to succeed me. And what if I did? How many stout fellows I’ve known with worthless offspring.”

  Astonishment, gratitude, and pride filled Talbot’s heart. And guilt, too. He suddenly regretted his doubts concerning Afflis and himself – his growing desire to abandon brigandage in favor of honest pursuits.

  He recalled the boys he’d seen hiding in the brush but had not reported to his chief as he should have. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything unwise.

  Afflis moved off, leaving Talbot to his turbulent thoughts.

  ***

  The descent began. Death and destruction rode at the gang’s side. The mist followed them down the pass, gathering strength. Thick, glowering clouds shot ahead to smother the Golden Land. The bandits paid no attention to this roiling evil but thought only of plunder.

  From his lookout post, Eric watched with growing alarm. He saddled the horse and galloped toward the capital city.

  14: Fantasy on Parade

  The mass of parade participants are lined up outside the West gate, waiting for us to lead them. Father and I leave the carriage and mount our horses in the vanguard. Sun blazes mercilessly, but I cannot shade my eyes lest I appear undignified. The air prickles with excitement.

  A dense throng of onlookers lines the street ahead. People jam the upper windows of the buildings. Everyone is silent, but underneath this quiet stirs a great tension, like a caged beast.

  Masses of people are pressing in on me, Gypsy yanks nervously at her reins. Suddenly I feel a terrible urge to jump down and flee, but I could never disgrace us like that. Nothing less than a battering ram would get me off my horse today. I pat Gypsy’s neck.

  “That’s it girl, we’ll get moving soon.”

  I sense a disturbance high in the sky, roiling like an infant storm trying to gain power. I glance up, but see nothing.

  Then the trumpeteers raise their long horns: TAAA ta ta TAA ta ta ta TAAA TA!

  The band starts blasting out the parade march, and, ready or not, we’re on our way – the King first and me right behind. The crowd breaks into a mighty roar:

  LONG LIVE THE KING! LONG LIVE KING BERTRAM!

  Flowers rain from the upper windows, carpeting the street. People surge forward to touch the King. Soldiers break ranks to restrain them.

  Father reaches over the soldiers’ heads and grasps the hands stretching out to him from the multitude. Ecstatic people press bouquets of flowers upon him. An earsplitting chant issues from the mob, the beast is out of its cage and roaring:

  THE KING! THE KING! LONG LIVE THE KING!

  The mighty sound strikes me an almost physical blow. I hold tight to the reins lest I should lose control of my mount.

  “Steady Gypsy ... keep calm.”

  A hoard of girls closes in on me. They toss so many flowers that I can barely see where I am headed. A garland snags my coronet, and I pull it away, nearly upsetting my crown. One girl clings to my leg and would have surely dragged me from the saddle if a soldier hadn’t pulled her off first.

  The mob’s heat is suffocating me, the heavy coronet strains my neck, and the sweet stench of flowers is turning my stomach. The blaring horns and drums, the roaring voices. And above it all the hypnotic chant:

  THE KING! THE KING! LONG LIVE THE KING!

  Father towers above the chaos, the royal crown blazing on his head like the very sun. The magnificent crimson robe flowing over his shoulders oozes power. I keep my eyes fixed upon him, forcing out as best I can the mayhem all around me.

  The parade winds on, bordering on a nightmare ....

  ***

  At last we halt at the great square in front of the castle. The pounding music and the chanting come to a blessed halt. The people burst into ordinary cheers, sounding like human beings once again. I let out a great pent-up breath.

  Jonathan waddle-struts up in his flashy new outfit. He grasps the reins of Father’s horse and leads it toward the reviewing stand. A boy dressed in gleaming livery takes Gypsy’s reins.

  “Your Royal Highness,” the boy cries in a barbaric accent. “This is fantastic! If only my kin folk could see me now.”

  Only then do I recognize Clyde. The change in him is astounding. He has gained weight. His hair is neatly trimmed, and he is scrubbed so clean that his skin appears a full shade lighter.

  He also has a sizable bruise under one eye.

  I lean over slightly. “You have suffered an injury.”

  “That’s nothing.” Clyde touches his black eye gingerly. “Just a disagreement with another lad over who’d have the honor of escorting your horse today.”

  “I daresay you proved the more persuasive?”

  “In a manner of speaking, my lord,” Clyde says. “There’s nothing like a good scrap to let you know what’s what.”

  I haven’t realized until then how much I missed Clyde. Now that his reassuring presence is here, everything seems brighter, more rational.

  I dismount by the steps of the review stand. Father and I ascend side by side. Mother awaits us in her magnificent robes, her golden tiara gleaming amid her flowing hair.

  We three stand together waving to the multitude; affection roars over us from our people.

  Then the King raises his arm and the crowd falls silent. Moments later, the musicians start blasting, and the parade resumes.

  Royal troops march past with banners flying. They almost look like real soldiers, though they would surely be slaughtered in any fight with a bandit gang. General Colfax salutes as he passes. Father and I salute back.

  A gaggle of nob
lemen, led by Duke Wiltone, rides arrogantly by. In my estimation, the beautiful horses have far more value than the men astride them. Then the rest of the parade blurs past – court officials, village mayors, musicians, dancers, jugglers. Half of our country’s population must be in the procession, while the other half cheers them on.

  At last the parade ends. We lead the crowd’s applause for the fine efforts of the marchers. Now it is time for the speeches.

  General Colfax forms his men into an honor guard before the review stand. The King holds up his arms for silence and the gathering quiets to a low rumble.

  “My dear people!” Father begins. “Today we celebrate our continuing peace and prosperity ....”

  Half listening to Father’s address, I contemplate the day’s remaining events. After our speeches, the performing troupes will entertain. Then the public feasting will begin.

  Already, cooks are roasting whole sides of beef and pork; delicious aromas waft though the square. Wagons full of wine and ale are parked along the crowd fringe under watchful guard. Each wagon contains enough strong drink to flatten a legion of revelers.

  There’ll be a brawl or two tonight, and much other unseemly conduct. Nine months from now our population will spike, preceded by a rash of hurried marriages.

  We are to drink a toast with our subjects and sample the roast meats to ensure they are of sufficient quality. Then we’ll retire into the castle to prepare for the royal banquet.

  Finally will come the festival ball during which I will dance with various eligible girls of the nobility, evaluating each as a possible future queen. I’m looking forward to that!

  But then a lad on horseback appears by the wine wagons, and my daydreams of beautiful girls vanish into thin air. A guard seizes the horse’s reins, but the lad jumps down and begins struggling through the crowd.

  It’s Eric!

  A bolt of terror strikes me, and I grip the railing to steady myself. A crackling in the sky, as of faint lighting, marks Eric’s progress to the open area below the review stand.

  “Majesty!” he cries. “I bear urgent tidings!”

  The King stops in mid-sentence, astonished, glowering. An angry murmur ripples through the crowd. A soldier steps from the ranks and seizes Eric’s arm.

  “Release him!” I yell. “He comes at my bidding.”

  Father looks at me in amazement.