by Mario Routi
Bull’s dagger was already in flight and, a split second later, it entered Claudia’s heart.
Felicia buckled, grasping the shaft of the arrow as she fell. It snapped off as she hit the ground.
Claudia already lay dead.
Turgoth looked at Felicia, then at Claudia, his face impassive. Both sides remained rooted to their spots. Seasoned Orizon and Sharkan warriors all struggled to take in what had just happened. Rebecca dismounted and calmly walked up to Turgoth. She looked him coldly in the eyes and the King lowered his sword.
“So, King Turgoth,” she asked, “did you confuse duty with romance? Would you have married a traitor and a murderer?”
He inclined his head and smiled bitterly. “I already told you, Rebecca, I will never remarry!”
Her gaze remained steady and calm. “Take your troops and go back to Beast. I give you my word that we’ll find the best and fairest solution. I’m sure you trust me.”
“I do trust you, Rebecca, but I can’t do that. I’ll be seen as a traitor. I’ve prepared for this day for years. Now, we’re in control and we are leaving, taking the Flame as a trophy.”
“You’re not going anywhere. And you’re not in control of anything. Your forces are pinned down and will be killed unless you withdraw. Orizons are never defeated when they fight for their Flame. But you still have a chance to save them. So, take your troops and go!”
Everyone watched in amazement as she turned and walked - as poised as a young Queen - over to the fallen Princess. She knelt and suddenly her face lit up in amazed relief.
“Bull! The Princess is alive! Quickly! Get her to the hospital!”
Snapped out of their reverie, everyone jumped to action. Bull and a few Orizons gently picked up Felicia and carried her to the hospital.
Rebecca returned to Turgoth and drew her crystal sword. His face was sad as he also drew his sword.
“I predicted this very scene when we were on Mount Thunder,” he said. “A duel for the Flame! Is it too late? I don’t want to kill you, Rebecca. Please!”
Rebecca’s face softened for a moment. “Yet... you cannot betray your people, can you?”
“I am so sorry...”
Turgoth charged at her and their swords met with a mighty clash. He was taller than her and stronger, and an experienced fencer. He very quickly pinned her down, but she parried every attack, only conceding ground when she had no alternative. The sound of the blades roused the fighting instincts of the soldiers on both sides. Orizons and Sharkans cheered for their champion respectively. It seemed that a single combat was going to determine the outcome of thousands of years of war. Everything rested on this duel. Every eye was on each skilled strike and movement of the fighters. Even the horses whinnied and stamped their feet restlessly in the tense atmosphere.
Turgoth shifted to a two-handed grip and slashed his sword aiming at Rebecca’s head. She held the tip of her sword with her left hand and raised it to just above her head, blocking the King’s deadly blow. She steadily retreated under the masterful hail of deadly blows. As she fell back, she tripped over Claudia on the floor, tumbling onto the corpse and hitting her back.
Sprawled over the dead Amazon’s body, she was an easy target. The viewers cried out - some in anxiety, others in triumph. But Turgoth hesitated for a fraction of a second and, by the time his sword slashed down, she had rolled her agile body away. Only as she stumbled up onto her feet did she notice that an arrow in Claudia’s quiver had stabbed her shoulder.
Turgoth faced her and their eyes met for the first time since the commencement of the fight. She noticed that his eyes glowed darkly, but she couldn’t tell if it was in sorrow or triumph.
Their swords clashed again. Sparks flew like fireworks from the tough crystal. Rebecca’s mind was racing: “Why did Turgoth attack a second too late? Did he just spare my life? Yet, if so, why is he attacking so fiercely again now? Is it for his people to see? I know he could have killed me if he so wanted!”
Drops of sweat beaded her brow as Turgoth hammered at her mercilessly, continually going for her head. Each second brought at least two near fatal blows and forced her to use two difficult - and now painful - defensive movements to save her life.
The sweat poured off her and her shoulder was on fire, but her face remained impassive. She retreated once more under his reign of mastery, taking three clear steps back.
As Turgoth stepped after her, she stopped abruptly. Bravely, almost stupidly, she made no attempt to defend the next thrust. Instead she swiftly bent her knees and Turgoth’s sword flew a hair’s breadth over her head.
The next move was all hers and she stabbed upwards. Her sword plunged deep into Turgoth’s unguarded chest. His eyes blazed at her in shock while she stared back with eyes full of tears.
“No... no... I’m sorry...” she whispered, shaking her head.
The Sharkans’ cry of despair rang through the fortress and then both sides fell silent, watching as the King faltered.
Rebecca gently, painfully, pulled her sword from his body. She felt sickened to see the blood of the man who had stirred her so deeply, dripping from its blade.
He fell heavily to his knees before her, as though worshipping a new and all-powerful goddess. Rebecca, too, fell to her knees, crying, overwhelmed by the pain. Turgoth thrust his sword into the ground with both hands and leaned on it as the life drained out of him.
He was back in the Sahara, kneeling in the oasis. Haruma was dancing for him, emitting the melodious cries of the desert that were known only to the Bedouin. Frenzied musicians were beating drums and blowing pipes, whipping up the sound of the desert wind. The starlight and the flames of the fire lit up Haruma’s face and her almond-shaped green eyes shone strangely, calling out to him. Turgoth tried to stand and dance too, but his legs wouldn’t lift him and he couldn’t understand why. Suddenly, Haruma was holding a sword instead of a tambourine and her eyes were full of sorrow.
He smiled at Rebecca, his eyes as eloquent in death as they were in life. His right hand released its grip on the sword and two fingers formed a curious shape, as though blessing her.
“Seek the truth. Stop the warfare. You look so very much like, like - Haru...” were the King’s last words as he fell to the ground.
Rebecca heard what he said. She took his hand as he breathed his last breath, watered it with her tears and kissed it. She then stood up. Without wiping the blade, she carefully slid her sword back into its scabbard, as if placing a holy relic in a crypt, never to be defiled.
In the silence, her strong, calm voice rang out. She spoke to the shocked, speechless Sharkan warriors.
“Two Sharkans should stay to let everyone know that the Lomani is over. You brought with you a carriage to take away the Flame. Use it instead to carry your great leader home. He was exceptional - a thinker and a gifted visionary. He was honourable, moral, freedom-loving, unyielding... stubborn...”
Her voice cracked again. She needed to take a silent moment, watched by all, and then she turned to the Orizons.
“We’ll now move the Flame back to where it belongs.”
The Beast soldiers left to get the carriage, as instructed. The fighting outside the theatre had also ended with the surrender of their comrades.
Then, Rebecca and the Sharkans rode slowly through the Fortress towards the gate and as they passed, all fell silent.
36
Once the Sharkans were gone, Rebecca joined Leiko, Lord Life and Bull, who were all waiting solemnly outside the operating theatre in the hospital. The doors to the theatre swung open and Doctor Afterland emerged.
“One of her carotid arteries was torn,” he explained. “She’s lost a lot of blood. We gave her the Flame and a transfusion and we are now proceeding with the surgery. There’s a chance she will survive. We’ll give her the Flame every day and see how she does
. The first few days are the most critical.”
Afterland disappeared back into the theatre, leaving the others outside with their thoughts and fears.
“I’m staying here,” Leiko said eventually. “I will let you know as soon as there is any news.”
Without a word, the others left him standing like a guard at the doors.
The moment they left the hospital, Rebecca took Lord Life’s hand in hers. He looked at her tenderly.
“What is it, my dear?” he asked.
“My Lord, I know that this is not the best time for discussions, with your daughter - your only child - hovering between life and death and Utopia still in a state of emergency. But I need to talk to you and I can’t keep it inside any longer now that the Lomani is over and the Flame safe. I feel like I’m going to explode!”
“Come with me,” he said, leading her up to the hill and sitting beside the Sacred Flame.
“Talk to me, my child. Say what you must; don’t leave it trapped in there,” he pointed at her heart and her head, “or there.”
“So be it, My Lord. Thank you!” she said and started to unfold her thoughts.
“The people here are like one family and they were governed by two worthy leaders - sensible, experienced, brave, virtuous and, up to a point, honest. But they couldn’t find a solution to their family problems, which brought about death and misery for thousands of years.
“Innocent wild flowers have sprouted on battlefields, and they will do again. However, their pure roots - about which Lady Danae spoke so impressively - My Lord, stand in soil drenched with wasted blood. To smell the flowers is to sense the ineradicable odour of death. And if we listen carefully to the birds that fly there, we’ll hear the mournful tone in their singing as they try to make us see reason.
“I simply cannot understand this situation. There are serious contradictions. I have the Flame inside me and I must fight for Good. Yet, at the same time, I must also kill the citizens of Beast, who I don’t consider to be evil. I don’t feel that I can go on doing it in the future. It clashes with the love, goodness and justice that we, Orizons, teach. I feel terribly confused.
“I believe, Lord Life, that with your intercession, if the mythical Gods think it over carefully, they may change their previously unbending minds and our land may become peaceful again. In an hour of need, even the Gods can sometimes be swayed. They became angry because of your quarrels and they discriminated against one side. They may now be willing to correct their mistake.”
They continued talking for over an hour and the conversation was full of deep, sincere and sensitive emotions. Lord Life was greatly impressed and touched by the soundness of her views. What she said mostly concerned why wars should stop in the Land of the White Sun. Also, how this could be achieved.
He looked at her and listened carefully and with understanding. At some points, he nodded in agreement.
“I will think about what you have said,” he told her when she had finished. “And I promise to talk it over with the Gods.”
37
Leiko sat in a chair by the bed in Felicia’s hospital room. He had with him a parchment, a quill, and some ink. He looked at his Princess. Her throat was thickly bandaged, yet she appeared calm - as if in a deep sleep. His face was passionately loving as he started to write:
My Love,
Since you can’t hear me, I’m going to write to you until you’re well enough to read it all.
Nobody can blame me for falling in love with you. I lived with your parents for thousands of years. I stayed with them because I loved them and, most of all, because I respected them, not because of you. How could I have known that you would be born and find your way into my heart?
A hundred and twenty years ago, you arrived. You were a great joy to the household. As you grew up, we were all so proud.
You stood out from the beginning and showed early on that you were a born leader. Your father, having received the approval of the Gods, put his trust in you and let you rule. Everybody trusted you.
Twenty years after your birth, we moved to a new house and lived in isolation, so that Lord Life could at last find some peace. You had already assumed responsibility for everything in Utopia and you managed fine.
From time to time, you came and visited us. When you left, I was filled with sadness. I missed you. I thought of you by day and dreamed of you by night. You had pitched your tent in my heart. That’s how I knew that I’d fallen in love with you. When I realised it, I was alarmed. I felt ashamed. I didn’t want to believe it. I hoped I was wrong, but with each passing day, I grew more certain. This certainty upset me.
It had never crossed my mind that a day would come when you’d find your way into my heart and enslave it.
I trembled when I told your father for the first time. I wanted him to know how I felt, so that I could continue my voyage on the light, white cloud of my conscience. I couldn’t conceal from him the fire that was growing inside me.
“Lord Life,” I said, “I believe we should respect every kind of heartfelt expression. Our behaviour should never harbour hypocrisy, double-dealing, or ulterior motives. Yet, we often fear the result of speaking openly. Not only because we bare our innermost thoughts, feelings, ideas and beliefs, but more because we fear the reactions we may encounter. So we’re often forced to live in silence, with insincerity and lies. I could never do such a thing. That’s why I’m telling you what’s happening to me.”
Then, I told him the secret of my heart.
Lord Life smiled. He patted me on the back in a fatherly way, ruffling my hair.
“Nobody can take away your dignity or your honour, Leiko,” he said. “You only lose them if you want to. It’s up to you. They won’t leave you if you hold on to them tightly, no matter what people say or what they accuse you of.
“Don’t worry about what’s happening to you and pay no attention to what others might say. No one should lead his life with his mind filled with those kinds of worries about other people.
“Women are a very serious matter in men’s lives, Leiko. You’re very unlucky. You’ve fallen in love with a wild creature who you will not easily tame. Let’s see how you go about it and whether you will succeed in the end. Try hard and don’t give up easily. Now, I value you even more highly.”
A great weight was lifted from me and I felt very satisfied with your father’s attitude.
It’s important to be appreciated for your true worth - whatever it is - by those whose opinion you value. All of us possess some worth, however small. We all have certain virtues from the day we are born - perhaps created in the womb - as well as those we acquire throughout our lifetimes. It’s helpful if these virtues can withstand the pressures of time, attrition, trials and tribulations, and last, if possible, till the end of our lives.
I once read a saying: “If you love and suffer, love even more!” Well, that’s what I did, but love became infinite and imperishable. When I realised how much I loved you, I grew scared.
Although I suffered a great deal, I didn’t tell you anything about it for three whole years. Each time I saw you, you dazzled me. When the sun dazzles us, we shut our eyes. Our eyelids are the curtains that God has given us for our protection. I often shut them when I looked at you, but then I missed your beauty. I’d open them again, but the brilliance seared me. I sought a middle way so that I would neither be burned, nor lose the sight of you. I found a way to see you only with my heart and mind. But then my mind was going mad and my heart was pining.
Then, I found the solution: I half-closed my eyes and peered out through my eyelashes, as if I were behind prison bars!
I decided to talk to you. I don’t remember what I told you. I didn’t know what I was saying. When I stopped, you looked at me tenderly. You took me by the hand and we went towards the river. We walked and talked... and talked. We sat
on the bank. The swirling river played the music and our hearts sang.
“It’s very important to learn how to listen to the sweet violins of nature,” you said, “but no less important to listen to the wonderful whispers of silence.”
I agreed, since, apart from the written and spoken word, there is also the language of silence, which pierces the flesh and reaches the feelings. I knew that you had been influenced by this first stage of initiation into the Pythagorean philosophy.
We looked at our faces in the water. As the river flowed, I felt that it was sweeping us along, too - either towards the waterfall to be broken on the rocks or to the lake to find peace. I didn’t want us to be swept away by it. I wanted us to leave.
“Shall we go to the springs?” I asked you.
You got up silently. You took my hand again and pulled me in the direction of the hill.
It was the beginning of April. Over the gurgling spring was a thickly leaved almond tree in blossom. I cut a sprig and gave it to you. And you looked at me... and looked at me... Then you put your arms around me and burned me with the blazing coals of your lips.
“If you can wait, please do. I have many things to do and many obligations to fulfil. But as of today, we are engaged!” you said, and ran off, holding the twig.
Almost a hundred years have gone by since then and every year, at the beginning of April, I visit the spring. I cut a sprig from our almond tree and bring it to you. The tree, with its blossoms, betrothed us; that’s why I love it so.
Today I’m going to reveal to you two secrets.
You’ve often asked me what’s inside the small leather pouch that I’ve been carrying around my neck for so many years.
I told you it was a lucky charm that was very dear to me. You wanted to see what it was, but I wouldn’t let you.
Well, it contains hairs from your head. For years, I used to collect the hairs from your pillow after you’d visited your father’s house. They’ve been my companions when we aren’t together. I take them out of the pouch, stroke them, and put them back again.