by Edison G. S.
The Frozen Land was only comprised of two cities— Marli and Tenkla. Everything else in the Frozen Land was just mountains and a vast area - known as the white plains where snowstorms made life and survival unbearable. The frigid, sharp winds made it impossible to expend one night there. And people did not venture outside the two cities.
Tenkla was appointed as the royal city, residence of the Sub-Commander of the Frozen Land, and Marli was supposed to send provisions to it. However, shipments could not come from Marli to Tenkla by ground because the cities were separated by the majestic white plains Wagons could not carry any provisions due to unstable land and landslides could easily throw down newcomers. And Marli did not send provisions through water because they lacked both provisions and embarkations.
“My relief and gratitude is immense thanks to you,” he said solemnly to the ship’s crew as his soldiers helped to unload the ship.
“It is my pleasure,” the captain said humbly.
“The people of the Forest are quite kind to deliver fresh goods,” Andreas said. “It is truly amazing that you are selfless enough to share so much, considering it is not ordered by the king or the Sub-Commander of the Forest.” Arcadio Romars had done a magnificent job creating a culture of sharing within the Forest. If somebody else were chosen Sub-Commander of the Forest of Dragons, the Frozen Land would be full of corpses.
“We have not heard from the Desert in a while,” the young assistant said, but Andreas shushed him discreetly.
The territory of the Desert, like the Frozen Land, was not capable of producing many food resources, thus they sent weapons, which were very well received and appreciated. It was indeed uncanny they had not received weapons lately, but the soldiers could easily create their own weapons. However, bows and arrows could not be compared to metal weapons.
Andreas felt a bit guilty he had a better weapon than his soldiers, but he had inherited his sword from his father; the iron was still polished and he sharpened the edge regularly, in case he met an unsightly demon. Yet more iron swords were needed for the troops to survive a fight, or even a war.
“I am sure they will send weapons when they can,” Andreas said politely. He knew the Desert had problems of its own. He had been in the Desert once for a meeting of Sub-Commanders many years ago, which allotted him the chance to witness the poverty and the problems the land fought, but he could also notice how the villagers in the Desert survived. They had created artificial systems for crops production, which Andreas tried to adopt countless times, but the weather in the Frozen Land was unmerciful and killed the crops without giving them a chance at life.
“I hope you receive more help soon,” the donor expressed while boarding his empty ship. “It has been a pleasure to help your people.” He looked away with thoughtful eyes and added, “We should all be united in the war against the bloodsucking demons.” With an about-face, he untied his ship and navigated back toward the sea.
Andreas knew what the man meant to express. The Forest had contributed and so had the Desert, but Lera would not contribute with a single sword, not even the inexpensive ones. Andreas remembered he had already requested help from the king countless times. In his last try, he made a three-day journey to Lera, using a very old and decrepit ship that surely existed before the bloodsucking demons appeared. He was threatened by storms and thought he had earned his right for some help. However, when he requested swords for his men he was denied all support. The king did not even meet with him, but rather sent Commander Winterton whom, with sincere regret, delivered the news.
“The king has decided not to provide what you need at this time,” the commander stated with a remorseful tone.
“Could I at least meet with him?” Andreas requested, but Commander Winterton had replied that the king had many responsibilities and did not have time to meet with him.
Andreas had traveled by sea, on wagons through the islands Llamil and Marche, and at night sought refuge in hostels knowing demons attacked only in the dark and never entered a building. Once inside Lera, it was a long ride through the woods until he reached the city gates.
Lera was squared-off by thousands of houses and towers rising out of the ground with a majestic wall extending around the city surrounded by deep woods, which were encircled by water. Soldiers looked at Andreas suspiciously as he asked for entrance into the city. Once granted access, he rented a cart to get to the castle of Excarta. His entire journey was moot since the king was too occupied to see him.
Andreas was drawn back to reality when his young assistant yelled toward the departing ship, “May the Ice Lord forgive the king and may he bless for eternity the Forest of Dragons and the Desert.”
The ingenuity in the young man moved Andreas. Nevertheless, he knew the king did not respect the Ice Lord. His faith serves only the Coral god, he thought. Neither the king nor the people in the Royal Waters respect the Ice Lord, the spirit of the Forest, or the Sand God, Acacious.
Somber memories crowded Andreas’ thoughts; King Kennicot sent a troop to destroy the temple of the Sand God twelve years ago when he defeated the rebel leader Lance Maxwell, former Sub-Commander of the Desert. The leader wanted fairness for his people, but the King refused his request, just as he refused Andreas’.
The king was leading the Desert land to poverty and hunger since they had not implemented the crop system back then. Maxwell had no other choice but to organize against the King. The rebellion was rough, but the man had military intelligence within him and got support from the Forest. He only needed support from the Frozen Land to make the rebellion a success. Though that would not happen since Maxwell was killed on his way to meet with the former Sub-Commander of the Frozen Land.
Many can only imagine the outcome if Maxwell reached the Frozen Land and explained his goals. It would have been easy to destroy the castle and the king’s power with the other territories surrounding Lera and fighting as a united front. Luckily, after the rebellion, the Desert people developed their systems to give life to dry seeds and eventually to animals that fed from the green results of those seeds.
Andreas dreamed of coming up with a magnificent idea to produce crops. The ancestors of the Frozen Land had mostly depleted their main source of food—the sea. Sea lions, seals, and salmon were almost extinct. On the ground, wolves, bears, foxes, and other beasts were also vanished. The plants did not bear edible fruits or vegetables and the Frozen Land was slowly dying day-after-day.
Holga
If Lance Maxwell lived, the Land of The Men would have been a safer place to live. She was lost in thought as she walked along, shivering. Her wet eyes were sore and her cheeks burned, but she continued to recall events leading up to this moment
She recently shared a warm dinner in her humble house in Bregonia with her husband and children to celebrate another year of her life. She remembered the moment her husband looked deep into her eyes and asked her what she wished to have. She chortled and whispered to him her wish—a holiday with her family to the Free Port Beach, north of Bregonia.
Only her desires were much darker recently. Now she wished the Sand God would reduce Darien Kennicot and his damned seeds to dust.
The king has men “protecting” the Desert against demons, but Holga and everyone else know his troops were only there to make sure the majority of the crops went directly to Lera, leaving the villagers only enough for two modest meals per day.
Her entire family opposed the king . “The bastard did not help us create the crop system, but as soon as it was ready, he earned the right to collect crops,” her husband had said one afternoon in anger. “They say they are here to protect us against the bloodsucking demons, but what kind of protector kills an old man for keeping an extra piece of bread for his malnourished granddaughter?”
This was a famous tale in Bregonia, which everyone knew was true. Holga had witnessed the old man take an extra loaf of bread for the poor girl and the soldiers noticed it. They searched the man and found the bread in his disheveled p
ocket. The soldiers, who were supposed to offer protection, hauled the old man away, his tattered shoes dragging through the sand, and delivered him to his death. They would not tolerate thieves and used the man as an example. It had occurred to Holga that the king wanted them fearing him and this was the first action in a multitude of others to follow.
But not everyone believed in the corruption of the king and his men. One afternoon, Holga’s eldest daughter recited what she heard from her friends, “People say the king deserves crops because he provides troops, training, and weapons. He even gave power to the city of Caira.”
“Nonsense!” Holga’s husband, Ernest, replied. He hardly tolerated the fact that some families protected and served the king to the extent that he referred to them as cowards. However, he knew people who remembered the rebellion would obey the king just to leave the past behind.
The young girl had been raised hating the king, but her need of recognition and popularity with her friends had her speaking contradictory to her upbringing. But Holga was certain the girl knew deep in her young soul her friends did not see death and oppression as close as her parents had. Unaware of the reality of the situation, and immaturely, they had gossiped about the royal family and Sub-Commander Maxwell, as well as the rebellion.
Holga’s memories shifted to more recent and gloomier thoughts. If they really were here to protect us, my husband would be alive and so would all my children, she thought. Two soldiers walked in front of her and she looked at them with scolding eyes. Cowards, she thought. She imagined how one day there would be justice against the system, even if it required a new rebellion. She hoped somebody would one day stand against the king and his soldiers without fear.
Holga was well aware many rebel groups were appearing here and there throughout The Land of The Men. The troops tried to rid the land of them, but were not successful in all cases; there were intelligent groups still hiding that would probably join forces and extirpate their ruler and his army. The throne will eventually have a new leader, she hoped. She dared to dream it will be a younger man selfless and will love his people. There was a rebel, Raymond, who had a great deal of support from those residing in the Desert; would he be a good choice?
The demons delayed the rebellion and rebel leaders had been focusing their strength to protect themselves and the lands from the relentless attacks of the demons; they have not energy left to carry on a rebellion, but one day The Land of The Men would be under the command of a worthy man.
A soft voice stopped the flow of Holga’s thoughts. “Are we there yet?” the boy asked. His face reminded her of Ernest in his youth. Neil and Omar were now the only memory she had left of her husband. The night of the attack, everything in her house was destroyed. She had nothing to remember her husband by except the children that walked next to her.
“We will get there soon,” she said softly.
He looked up at her with trusting eyes. The small innocent eyes almost made her burst in tears. The same eyes had looked at her the previous night with trepidation in them. “Help me mother,” he said when the demons turned the humble household to pieces. Broken wooden planks were spewed upon the ground, dripping with the blood of Holga’s children and husband. The thought of that massacre made her sick. All the neighbors were incredibly stupefied. Demons caught those feebleminded enough to remain outside after nightfall; entering the sacred household is forbidden unless someone sharing a spiritual connection with the place, a family member, extends an invitation. There had been times when demons turned houses to pieces to drive people out of their homes to feed from them.
However, what happened last night was a shock for everybody. The demons destroyed the house even though they could not be hungry after having just eaten a herd of cattle left outside by a merchant whom fell asleep and forgot to hide his animals. The demons also killed a family when a boy invited them in after being promised candy.
Holga knew deep in her soul their attack was something unrelated to hunger. They did not want to feed; they slaughtered her children and Ernest for reasons only Holga could comprehend. Her past was somehow connected to the attack; but to think she had some fault in her family’s demise would drive her crazy if she confronted the thought. It was already hard enough for her to live knowing she was unable of saving them.
She lived and saved two of her boys, but she was not a hero. She had taken the two boys and ran outside the house, but when she tried to come in to help the others, it was too late. Her husband died protecting their children. Once the demons were beyond him, they killed the children within seconds. The creatures terrifying The Land of The Men for over a century had brutally and immorally exterminated her loved ones.
She reminisced about Ernest calling her his “young lady.” Oh my dear Ernest, she felt warm tears swell in her eyes demanding freedom, but she kept her pace with the two surviving boys walking next to her. The city border was nearby; there they could find a wagon to take them away for little money. Soldiers used wagons and carts to take the crops from the city to the ships in the west coast where Lera was only a few hours away by water. She had asked to rent a wagon, but the soldiers just mocked her leaving her no option other than to walk to the southern border of city and find a wagon not being used by soldiers.
She remembered how the soldiers had humiliated her when she needed help. She hated them as much as she hated the king. They enjoyed more crops, more money, and other luxuries, such as whores, just for serving the king. Most of them had joined to be on the winning side, but there were still some hard to find men that wanted to serve The Land of The Men. They were selfless enough to share extra bread and crops with villagers, as long as they kept it secret.
The dry weather had worsened making the long haul more difficult; t . She missed the comfort of her home. Like any other house in the Desert, it was built with a mixture created by the elders. For centuries, the villagers have been using the special mixture of materials to retain coolness. Without a roof to hide under, the weather was unmerciful and noon was the worse time to be walking outside.
She kept her strength; Omar and Neil needed to see a strong woman leading the path. Her soul could cry all it wanted, but her eyes had to remain resilient, for the children. She gave some water to the dehydrating boys and kept walking. They only had one mile left of the exhausting journey before a bigger journey commenced.
Her head was still clouded by the deathly images; her two older girls were just flowering to life. They were so lovely both inside and out; she could not even recall being that pretty. They had inherited their mother’s auburn wavy hair, clear brown eyes, dimples, and overhanging lips, yet the white skin of their father. The village boys used to pile outside waiting for a chance to ogle at her girls. And their life was stolen when they just started living it.
Holga felt the urge to smile as she used to do every time she saw them playing when they were just children. But she could not smile, not anymore. Their innocent image was forever contaminated with blood. Marcela was the first corpse she found—, pale and with a terrified look forever drawn in her face, her right arm detached from her body. The demons fed little from her and left her there suffering.
Her youngest daughter was only three-years old. Her little body was next to her father. She had not seemed to suffer, but did she even understand suffering that young?
Only Acacious knows what happened there. Holga prayed to the Sand God to give her family rest. She could tell by the look on her husband’s lifeless eyes that he, their son Brian, and her three girls had endured tremendous agony.
Brian was a dear boy,; everybody loved him for his sweet and warm soul. A tear slipped down her cheek. She could not fight her crying anymore and looked back at her sons, reminding herself to be strong for them.
After escaping last night, they hid behind neighboring houses certain the demons would find them soon, but the sunlight began to surface and the demons gave up, for a night. She had seen Neil scared to death and Omar petrified. Omar will be reach
ing his twelfth year soon, but he sure will have nothing to celebrate with more than half his siblings dead. Holga had to pull him and practically carry him outside along with Neil, whom is just five-years old. They were trembling and crying and would never recover.
The guilt can consume any weak soul, especially when that soul is the one to live. Who decided who had to live? If it was Acacious the Sand God, Holga did not understand why he let her other children die. Since the day her first child was born, she prayed to lose her life instead of any of her children if that day ever came, and it did, but the outcome was unlike what she asked for—she was not suppose to live.
Once again, she damned herself for not being able to protect them. Her family had a history of being strong against demons; her mother was a sorceress, but Holga refused to accept that strength. It was against the divine laws so she never practiced it. If she had mastered it, she would probably have been capable of saving her family.
I refuse to learn something that disrespects the Sand God, even though that God did not grant my wish to let my children live, she concluded with remorse. But then, things would probably have worsened if she joined her family and prayed to their god. It was so ironic that she would now have to turn to her family in the Forest for protection. Acacious had failed her and she had no other option.
“Is the Forest much further?” Neil asked. They reached the wagons and paid a few coins to be escorted down south to Caira; there their journey would continue on water, west to the Forest Of Dragons.
“It is not far,” she replied while boarding the wagon and carrying Neil on. Omar got himself up and refused help. My sister will be able to protect us. She practices her craft so much and is strong.
Holga paid the driver and put the remaining coins in her pocket. Her stomach ached and weakness was taking over, but it was her priority for her children to eat. In that moment, she realized the money she had probably would not be enough to purchase tickets to board a ship to the Forest.