by Edison G. S.
“We are near,” he replied to his younger brother. They had already crossed the city of Sotol and soon they would reach the small villages spread throughout the Desert.
During the Maxwell Rebellion, the king punished larger cities that joined Maxwell. Little remained of the big cities except mere groups of people or neighborhoods. They were often raided and poverty reigned supreme. One particular city, Samara, had divided itself into small groups, which became in isolated villages. The wealthy villagers had sided with the king while the remaining townspeople put their trust in Maxwell. All that remained of the original city of content folks was an old castle; Omar knew of the castle and hoped to have it in his sights shortly.
The sun was just starting to set when Neil asked his brother to recite some of his stories. Omar loved history; it had been the most entertaining topic for him for as long as he could remember. His mother allowed him to read the accounts of the past and whenever she could afford it, she bought him an old, used book, with watermarks and darkened pages, some full of dust. These were the ones he enjoyed the most—the tales of days gone by.
Omar nodded eagerly. After all, it had become almost impossible to take a nap lately.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw blood—the blood of his brothers and sisters and father. The nightmares conquered his mind quickly. In one particular nightmare, they were sitting at the table enjoying dinner as if they were still together—a delicious roasted turkey with vegetables and potatoes, but in the scene, his father and siblings were drenched in blood; it dripped from their scalp down their flushed cheeks until it pooled around them in a lake. Omar looked at his plate and then back up to his family, but they had disappeared from the table and he sat there—alone in the pool of their blood. .He has had the same nightmare almost every time he fell asleep and now he feared closing his eyes.
As the sun was setting, the wind became fresher. The wagon lacked warm sheets and the bonnet was half blown by the wind allowing gusts of cold air to enter.
“I will tell you about the Royal War,” Omar declared. He gave a quick look at his mother. She lay motionless with her eyes closed, but she was awake, waiting to reach a hostel. He remembered how she saved his life. For a minute he felt like a coward, like a child for not helping his brothers and sisters escape. Quickly, he pushed the thoughts away and started elucidating the history to his wide-eyed sibling.
He explained how King Darien Kennicot’s ancestors had taken control over The Land of The Men in the islands of Casteda and how the four territories vehemently engaged in attacking each other, sacrificing lives in the process. Each territory had a king; King Salomon Kennicot of Casteda in the north had a significant advantage over the other three since he had marine access to the other territories. Towards the western region of The White Mountains, Nifferio reigned; the eastern region of Zodia was under Marcel George’s leadership and to the south, the territory of Ucrely was prevailed by Hogar Ucrely and his council.
It lasted four years, but after the Royal War of 3718, Kennicot defeated all his rivals. The three regions came to their knees as Kennicot sent hundreds of ships to their territories. Years of planning and preparation, along with his positioning betwixt the ocean and the other territories, resulted in a victory for the north. The kings of the other regions were defeated and each was sent to an early grave by Kennicot’s sword.
The three regions lost all their uniqueness and as an act of humiliation, the new king renamed them The Frozen Land, The Desert Land, and the Forest of Dragons based upon his observation of the lands as he exercised his power before the inhabitants. He honored Casteda by renaming it the Royal Waters and his castle retained the name Castle of Excarta.
Since then, three generations of history had transpired. Peace reigned for centuries and the territories obeyed generation after generation of Kennicot rulers in silence, until Lance Maxwell rebelled and opened the doors for more rebels to express their discontent with the king.
Omar knew the story very well and spoke with excitement, but his voice turned dark at the end reciting the origin of the demons that killed their family. Neil always asked to know and this time was not any different. Omar started, holding back his weaknesses as his mother opened her eyes and glared at him.
The story stated in the year 3883, over 150 years before, the fighting shifted toward mystic creatures with superhuman powers appearing overnight from unknown sources. Elders say they were the product of a demonic spell for witches once tried to reign The Land of The Men and thus summoned the demonic creatures to rid the land of men and women. Witches had been vanquished, but their human-shaped spawn still roamed, hiding in forests, living in caves, and swimming the waters as fast as fishes. They have survived and populated The Land of The Men, gathering enough power to destroy everything.
Of course, Omar’s story skipped many dark details. He remembered the untold end almost word by word: It is believed that The Land of The Men will eventually perish, with the exception of the Royal Waters.
But Neil did not hear that ending that day. They arrived at a hostel at dusk. Demons were less likely to attack roads than towns, but it was better to be safe under a roof when night came. Neil and he shared a bed and tried to get some rest. Neil had asked about the end of the story one more time, but Omar decided to keep it to himself. If he had already lost faith without even knowing what faith felt like, he would not let his brother endure the same.
Andreas
“I was born to die. We were born to die.” He could see the puzzled faces of the men under his command. Then he repeated it louder, hiding the tremble of his voice. “We were born to die either killing Kazar or being killed by him and his demons—it is our decision,” his voice echoed as the men kept silent.
The cold wind howled around the men fixated on Andreas, while snowflakes fell around them. He was used to meeting with the one hundred men he had chosen to manage the troops under his command; today, he had decided to address over a thousand men. Every soldier wore his Kennicot Kingdom cloak, yet most of them would rather burn it. The symbol was present in the washed blue coat, a faded golden crown in the center. That was the only thing the king had proudly provided.
Andreas knew the soldiers in Lera had complete armors of iron, the crown drawn in every breastplate with expensive silver. The black cloaks carried the same symbol, but with a golden edge. He also knew the same model of cloak he used was used in the Desert and the Forest in orange and green. Equally, they did not have any armor, except for few powerful cities.
Outside the limits of Tenkla, the white plains were just within a few feet of distance. Andreas had chosen the location in between, close enough to the city yet far enough to have space to hold a large meeting. He would repeat the speech many times until he had spoken to all the men.
He wanted his speech to sincerely inspire his soldiers. His words were intended to unite the men and compel them to be cohesively stronger. There had been few attacks lately, but he knew the attacks would soon amplify. The weather was changing and the days were shorter. Soon, as every year, the demons would have more darkness than light and villagers would hope for mercy from the Ice Lord.
Andreas explained his intentions of replicating the strong defenses of Lera, as unrealistic as it seemed. The men, including Andreas, questioned: How would they build walls without materials? How would they train dogs in the unmerciful weather of the Frozen Land? Wolves could not be trained, only chased and they were mostly gone. But Andreas kept a positive mind; he would eventually find answers to his questions.
Andreas could read the worry and lack of confidence on the beaten down faces of his men, but it was his responsibility to demand everything from them.
Snowflakes started falling faster and his voice was quieted with the wind. He could not tell anymore if their tremble was due to the cold or their fear. For a second, he felt uncertain; do they even care to hear me? Many soldiers seemed distracted. It was like they did not trust his words any longer. He needed to turn thi
ngs around, but his people were losing faith.
One man in the front row yawned; Andreas recognized him as four years ago he had been his bravest soldier. When Darcellene was taken, the man’s wife was also taken. Andreas swore he would never allow another abduction, but a few months later the man’s daughter was also taken. He had come crying, asking for help. The girl was about twelve and the dungeons would break her soul. Nevertheless, even if found, she would never be as before.
The elders related stories of hidden dungeons in which some people had been found after years of being taken. They had no memory of anyone or anything. They could not escape and were kept to produce blood, milked like cows every day, leaving just enough for them to live. Some people had been hypnotized and wanted to stay there. Some were there without any compelling; they suffered the most and all they wanted was to die.
Eventually, the villagers developed a system to prevent kidnappings, but many men had died fighting the demons; some demons had perished too, but there were always more to come. Andreas had enjoyed ripping their hearts out. He used every trick he learned such as burning the demons, removing their bloodless hearts, piercing them with silver blades, and even breaking them into pieces—but it was not enough. They were missing something; there was something that would stop the demons forever and also would give hope to his men one more time. There must be something.
* * *
Out of nowhere, a small figure slowly, yet steadily, appeared wrapped in thick layers of clothing, its face completely covered.
“Retreat!” a man yelled, standing tall in front of the figure. “We are in an official meeting,” he added. . Andreas watched with curiosity; his eyes focused on the shape, expectant to see the mysterious face. The figure shed the layers revealing the face of a small woman with eyes as clear as the clouds and a skin with a sea of wrinkles. The man relaxed to the seemingly harmless person and said with a more gentle tone. “I’ll escort you back home lady.”
However, Andreas was more apprehensive of the old woman; for some reason, he felt threatened by her and so observed her movements carefully. “Why are you interrupting my speech?” Andreas said cautious. He was certain the woman had a powerful reason to come so far.
“Please sir, I need to talk to you,” she said while every man stared at her. Her accent was thick, from the western territory and marked by the old tongue.
“He is not sir, but rather the Sub-Commander,” Anthony stood next to Andreas. “And you will address him in such manner,” he defended, as he did with any lack of respect directed toward Andreas. Anthony appeared bewildered Andreas did not see his own stature among men.
“Where do you come from?” Andreas asked the woman.
Anthony looked at him with scolding eyes. “This is not place for a lady of such advanced age,” claimed Anthony, “Leave now and do not dare to interrupt again.” Once again, Anthony wanted to be the one making decisions.
“Let her talk,” Andreas commanded with a high chin and stern tone.
Anthony ceased his stubbornness and looked away to hide his anger.
The entire army was silent as the decrepit old woman spoke. “I come from the outskirts of the city. I live in a small cabin near the white plains,” she said and then continued, “and I know how to defeat the demons.”
Some men laughed and others shouted for her to leave.
“Speak, what is it you have come to say?” Andreas asked while he felt Anthony’s annoyed eyes boring into him.
“I have the solution for our problem. We need to get rid of those monstrous creatures. Please, let me help you.”
“How do you plan to do that? You seem too fragile.”
“I have the…talent…required to impede their reign and reclaim the freedom of our loved ones.” She talked with a passion that made her silver hair seem to regain vitality and her skin appeared to suddenly smoothen before their eyes.
“What talent do you speak of?” Andreas dared to ask while moving toward her, but he already had an inkling of what she meant.
“She is a witch!” yelled one of the men. Suddenly, an incomprehensive noise spread.
“Let her speak!” Andreas commanded.
“You and I can make a powerful team. We can join forces and stop this hell, once and for all,” she begged.
“I do not work with witches,” he said certain.
“What if a witch could save you, your army, your family, and everybody else?”
He fell silent. What is it that she can do? Human forces had failed long enough, but they have not tried superhuman methods. Is this the answer I need? he thought and prayed to the Ice Lord to guide him and forgive him for even thinking about joining forces with a witch. Desperation had finally reached its limit. The brave faces of the men stared at him impatiently, waiting for him to kick the witch out. At the same time, their broken souls needed hope and Andreas needed to provide it to them any way he could.
“You are dismissed,” he commanded the troops. Disbelief swept through the crowd. “You will stay,” he pointed his finger to the few generals standing next to him. There were about twenty of them, enough to protect him if anything happened. It was common knowledge the witches created the demons, so they could not be trusted. Andreas needed strong men by his side in case she was lying.
“But Andreas, she is a witch,” protested Anthony. “She will kill you, she will kill us!”
Andreas felt his breath faster. Anthony had tried multiple times to dictate to him and Andreas was exhausted by his efforts. “You are in my service, so you will obey and stay here general,” he commanded with the strength of his position as Sub-Commander.
“You are making a mistake and you will not take me to a grave with you, Lord Sub-Commander,” Anthony sneered and walked away, disobeying Andreas’ command. Andreas ignored Anthony’s childish behavior and focused on the witch.
After the remaining troops left, the woman started speaking while Andreas made sure to observe every movement she made. He kept his sword close to him; He wanted to be ready in case the witch used her magic against him.
“Kazar is too powerful,” she said. “He will turn your army to pieces as he has done to every other that attempted to destroy him.” She pointed her finger to the generals that stood next to Andreas. “The same men that defend you now, will come to chase you after Kazar sinks his teeth into them.”
“We are stronger than you think. We are thousands and we are everywhere,” he threatened in case she was unsure of his confidence in his men and the strength of the lot.
“As your army grows, so does his, but I can stop that.”
“With witchcraft,” he added.
“It does not matter how. What matters is stopping him. I have brought with me the solution to this problem,” she moved slowly and took out of her pocket a couple of objects Andreas couldn’t discern. “This formula was created by the most powerful…”
“The order,” he finished for her.
She was wroth and her eyes started blinking faster moving from him to the small group of men and back. “Not everyone knows about the order these days. It used to be powerful decades ago, but now the order is more secretive than before…”
“Because most witches were killed. I am actually surprised you have lived to this advanced age,” he assumed the woman was well into her eighties.
She seemed uncomfortable, “Yes, the order still lives, but not for long if the demons keep conquering The Land of The Men.”
He looked at her, wondering what her true intentions were. If the demons were killed and the order regained its strength, what would happen next? Nonetheless, he did not see more choices other than taking the risk. He sat back and looked at the objects in her hands. “What is it that you brought?”
She held in her hands a vile of amethyst liquid and said, “The most powerful spell there is. The witches of the order put all their strength into this spell.” She seemed hopeful, “It is the last shot against the demons.” She looked at the drink and then t
o Andreas. “There is only one way to defeat the demons. We need a man brave enough to drink this potion and allow the head demon to feed from him. That will eradicate the demon and, consequently, all his spawn.”
Her solution seemed irrational, but he pondered, What other choice do I have besides accepting her offer? Andreas knew the king would not provide any help. Asking Commander Winterton was not an option anymore; it would be a crime to go against the King’s word after he already replied negatively. . He knew he would betray his god and perish in the cold underworld—a land of snow in every direction, where sinful souls walked naked, eternally searching for warmth. His family and his men would all believe he either succumbed to the witch’s powers or had lost his mind. They would not allow him to stay in his position and might even divulge it to the king.
“I must think about it and consult with my men. It is hard to trust you,” he said loudly as if trying to convince himself. The men looked at him baffled.
“Discuss as much as you need to, but I have brought something else.” From under her layers of cloth she revealed a golden dagger. Instinctively, Andreas grabbed the grip of his sword before she could pounce.
“Be safe,” she said, “it will not hurt you.” She paused, swiveling the dagger in her worn hands and continued, “This dagger is a gift, from me, to demonstrate you can trust me.”
“That dagger does not prove anything.”
“But it will. Just keep it with you and you ….”
“Enough of your nonsense,” he hollered, annoyed, “get out of here and never come back!” She is a witch. They work with demons, he told himself.
“I will leave, but you must know this dagger is under a strong spell and it will be the only thing that will save your life when the moment arises.”
“Can that dagger kill Kazar?” he grew curious.
“Sadly, it is not that strong, but it can kill other demons.”
“Any dagger can kill other demons.”