by J. Thorn
“Now is not the time to be coy, for tomorrow we may begin our journey beyond the Region of the Dead.”
“You sat on the inner council with me. How do you feel about the Soothsayer?”
Desi looked to the sky, and then at the ground.
“Your body has answered my question,” said Machek.
“Machek, you know how the people feel about that old man. People believe he keeps us from moving forward. We have tried to leave superstition for the rational world, but he prevents us from doing that.”
“Do you believe I saw those omens?”
“Of course I do, Machek. Remember the time we stole the apple bushel from the elder? You confessed and took a beating for all of us. I trust nobody more than you.”
Machek’s hand moved to his lower back, caressing the scars of his intemperate youth. He prodded Desi further. “Do you believe the Soothsayer had something to do with those omens?”
“Could he have manipulated your visions? I don’t know if he did, but I think he has the power to do so. What does this matter now?”
“Desi, I have made my battle plans and I cannot stop the beast of war as it lumbers towards the enemy. However, I am not certain of our path. I need you to make me a promise. If you get information or see something with your own eyes, I want to know about it right away. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, sir, Lord Major of the People of the Sun.”
Machek smiled as Desi delivered his response with respect and camaraderie.
Chapter 36
“Lord Major Acatel, I have a message for you.”
The dusty and road-weary messenger knelt before the lord major. He had traveled far from the coastal city of Risenachen, the heart of the coalition.
“Rise and read it to me,” replied Acatel.
“But sir, I cannot read. It is to protect the validity of the message.”
Acatel sighed and called one of his commanders over to read it.
“Lord Major Acatel, Supreme Warrior of the Dog People, and friend of the coalition, a council of lord majors and powerful leaders has met in Risenachen. We extend our offer of brotherhood and unity in the war waged upon the cursed People of the Sun. We aim to destroy their civilization. You will be entitled to your share of the spoils, as will all lord majors. When the war ends and the coalition has succeeded, we pledge that no general will attempt to claim rule of the One World.
“In addition, the coalition has recruited the Serpent King to assist us in the destruction of the People of the Sun. Our intelligence has reported that your regiment waits on the outskirts of the capital, ready to strike like a coiled snake. We request that you hold your position until two more regiments arrive to fight by your side. The initial strike should be overwhelming, and we hope to provide you with the assistance to make it so. Your reputation as a fierce fighter and stalwart champion of the One World makes our hearts swell with pride. Take the oath of allegiance to the coalition and send it back to Risenachen. In the meantime, we will be sending two regiments to assist you in the first strike. They should arrive three days after you receive this message.
“Yours to the knife and in blood, dedicated to the cause, Tepan, Lord Major of the People of the Eagle and charter member of the coalition.”
Acatel sat and asked the commander to read it one more time. He threw his head back and drained what remained from a leather flask. He spit into the fire, the light of the flames illuminating the men’s faces.
“This piece of garbage insults me with cheap flattery and then instructs me as if I were an insolent child.” He grabbed the crumpled parchment from the commander’s hands and tossed it into the fire. “Commander, we strike at first light. I will not supplicate myself to Tepan.”
***
With the breaking day, Acatel moved through the camp, kicking the soldiers who had filled their bellies with drink the night before. A dewy mist settled on the dying coals, throwing more moisture into the air, and the odor of urine mixed with stale ale. Men groaned in response to their reckless revelry, sharpening their weapons and vomiting into the weeds. Acatel organized three regiments under his command, a considerable force. Each regiment consisted of one thousand soldiers recruited on the march towards the capital. Acatel sent a scout ahead to gather intelligence, and he arrived back when the Sun God rose to his zenith. Men shuffled and speculated about the future as they waited for their orders.
“Lord Major, sir, from what we can gather, the lord major of the People of the Sun is Machek of the Jaguar Knights. He commands their forces. One regiment guards the walls of the capital and more march towards the forest in our direction. If we set out as soon as possible, we can meet them on the high plain before they enter the trees.”
Acatel grinned.
“Sir, your victory in this first strike will ring through the ages. Great generals of the future will invoke your name on every battlefield.”
Acatel walked past the messenger and summoned his commanders. “Men, we shall put the first blow to the wretched abusers. Sound the call to march. We ride on the verge of eternal glory.”
The commanders scattered in different directions to organize the regiments.
Trunks the size of great beasts greeted the men. Vines twisted like serpents down to the ground, their heads hiding amongst the fallen leaves. Pinesap released a heavy fragrance into the air, helping to mask the sweat of the men. The canopy of the forest refused to allow the rays of the Sun God to penetrate the leaves, casting dark shadows throughout the woods. Acatel’s forces marched through the forest, the trees succumbing to the high grasses of the great plain.
Acatel led the march on horseback, accompanied by a personal bodyguard. A red flag embroidered with the fangs of the hound waved in the breeze.
He glanced back over his shoulder with the excitement of the impending battle. His soldiers carried short swords and battle-axes, the two most important weapons to warriors of the One World. Men wore battle armor and helmets, but the warriors of the Dog People stood out in the ranks, as they also wore the gold medallion on their chests. Acatel hoped they would not become primary targets and considered ordering them to remove the medallions. Archers marched on the outside lines of each regiment carrying arrows soaked in lamp oil, which would rain fire down on the enemy. Acatel halted his troops on the edge of the great plain. On the horizon, he could see and hear the first lines of the enemy. The People of the Sun had brought skin drums into battle with the hopes of intimidating the enemy. He saw their bright yellow flags rising.
“Commanders, our time is now! We will march until all regiments are in position on the field of battle, and hold until I give the command. May the gods of the Dog People watch over you, and may the dark forces take you beyond the Region of the Dead, should that be their plan. War to the knife.”
The commanders turned and relayed the orders throughout the ranks until the entire force buzzed with anticipation. Many of Acatel’s forces had never seen battle. A menace with a weapon provided a greater challenge than razing a village and raping its women. The regiments came into formation and stood. Acatel rode up and down the front, beating his chest in an attempt to embolden those men who would enter the battle first. He made sure all generals witnessed his position on the battlefield.
***
Machek handed the spyglass to his commander and summoned the generals. “The first wave of infidels has appeared on our horizon. We will march out to meet them. Prepare for war.”
His commanders relayed the message through the ranks. Machek thought he counted three enemy regiments, but he was unsure of how many remained hidden behind them in the forest. He summoned five regiments to the front line in the hopes they could turn back the first wave of attack.
The People of the Sun filled the Book of History with fearless and worthy soldiers, but few of Machek’s forces had served as more than guards or messengers. The Empire had not fought a real war in generations.
As Machek and his forces came into formation, a vacant area
formed between the two armies. The gap of two hundred paces spanned the entire length. From this distance, the men on the front lines could smell each other. Some shook in their boots while others pissed down their legs. The talk of the glory of war dissipated into the fog of fear. Machek spotted the lord major right away, none other than Lord Major Acatel of the Dog People. He was surprised such an ignorant, primitive people could muster such an organized military force. Teachings from his youth entered Machek’s head and he remembered horrendous stories about the Dog People of the north. Children sat around the fire, telling tales of brutal war tactics. The Dog People inflicted misery on prisoners of war, including dismemberment, rape, and cannibalism. Machek shivered in his saddle and dispelled the thoughts from his head. Whatever these wretches had done in the past would remain in the Book of History. He would not fall to the primitives on this day.
Acatel rode to meet Machek in the middle of the field so the two men could converse in private. Their horses whined and bit hard into the reins, and Machek peered at Acatel through his helmet, never releasing the grip on his sword as thousands of eyes glared at the two men.
“Lord Major Acatel, Supreme Commander of the Dog People, why do you march on our territory?”
“Machek, you are not as tall as the tales say. I have waited a long time for the opportunity to bleed your people on their own soil.”
“So you intend to march on our citizens?” Machek asked, following the rules of engagement prescribed by his ancestors.
“Oh, that I do, Lord Major.”
Acatel laughed, and his voice dripped with cynicism when he addressed Machek by his formal title.
“How many regiments do you bring to the battlefield?”
“As if I would tip my hand to you, Machek. The entire One World descends on your Empire. Your time has come.”
“You come up against the best soldiers in all the land with your renegade flesh-eaters. What makes you think you’ll leave this battle upright?”
“Your pudgy and lazy men serve as poor excuses for soldiers. We have suffered under your tyranny for far too long. We wield our greatest weapon, retribution.”
Machek knew his last effort of diplomacy had failed. He wanted to fight and to spill blood, but he had to follow protocol.
“Then I declare you an enemy of the People of the Sun. This will not be a War of the Flowers. We shall give no quarter.”
“And we would not request it.”
Machek turned to ride back to his line when Acatel called his name.
“You will soon be reunited with your family beyond the Region of the Dead. I hope I didn’t spoil your wife the last time I was inside her. She always said how small you were.”
Machek faced Acatel as the final insult struck his ears. He pulled his helmet down and raised his sword above his head, tapping his breastplate with the flat edge and pointing it at Acatel. “I will place your stinking skull atop my flag and parade it through your dead ranks,” he said.
Acatel laughed at Machek as he rode back to his ranks and stood firm in the saddle. Machek turned and headed back across the neutral strip of land separating the two armies. The front lines faced each other, weapons drawn, the drums of the People of the Sun thumping louder and faster, mimicking the heartbeats of the soldiers. Crows and vultures circled above, waiting to feast on the carnage about to take place.
“Lord Major Acatel, sir, we heard back from our scouts. The enemy has at least five regiments ready to fight.”
“Excellent. This will be a battle for the ages.”
“Sir, might we consider waiting for our reinforcements? We stand with brave and fierce warriors, but they outnumber us almost three to one.”
“Commander, lead your men, or I will be the first to spill blood on this ground.”
The commander retreated to the front of his regiment.
Some time passed with neither side making a move. Machek rode back and forth across his lines, singing odes of war to the gods.
Acatel lost patience and gave the attack command. The first wave of the Dog People crashed upon Machek’s forces with the fury of the Great Sea. Machek fell back behind the front lines, as all commanders did in warfare. Screams of victory, rage, and death rang out in the air. As the fighting butchered the first lines, the second and third lines of soldiers stood upon their dead brethren to do battle. Many of the Dog People left their battle axes lodged in the chests of the enemy. Acatel gave another command from behind the second regiment, and from the left and right flank of the front lines, flaming arrows hissed through the air towards Machek’s troops. Flaming oil exploded on some of his men, engulfing them in flames. However, the arrows did not have the devastating effect Acatel hoped for, and his archers ran out of soaked shafts.
The battle surged back and forth. Pockets of Acatel’s men pushed to the front, only to be answered by Machek’s forces. From high above, the battlefield appeared as a gigantic sea creature slithering and pulsing across the red soil. Machek peered through his spyglass, eager for an early sign, but he only saw men dying and blood spraying across the faces of the attackers.
“Commander, how many regiments stand for battle?”
“My lord, we have three regiments engaged and two ready.”
“Send a scout around the battlefield and report back on how many regiments stand with the infidel.”
Two messengers sped off on horseback. Machek did not think Acatel kept regiments in hiding, but he wanted to be certain before launching the assault. If he did so, Acatel could ambush him with greater numbers.
Injured men stumbled back through the front lines, bleeding and missing body parts. Discarded weapons lay scattered across the blood-soaked earth. The din of war silenced all other noises. Machek’s scouts returned faster than he anticipated.
“No other regiments behind his forces, sir.”
With that information, Machek gave the sign. His other two regiments spun to outflank the battle line. They marched far to the north and south, creating a crescent-shaped formation. The edges of the forces cramped Acatel’s lines.
***
Acatel watched as Machek’s regiments moved into position. He knew the maneuver they made and its consequences. His commanders saw it as well and rode to his side.
“Sir, we can hold off the enemy on the front line. But if he gives the command to attack from the left and right flank, we will be trapped.”
“Then tell the men that their fate shall be determined on this day. We fight to the death.”
The commanders gazed at the swarms of Jaguar Knights devouring their forces and then looked at each other.
***
“I want Lord Major Acatel alive,” said Machek to his generals.
“But, sir, he may not surrender.”
“If he does, I do not want him killed. We have unfinished business.”
The warriors of the Jaguar Knights tipped the battle in their favor. Acatel’s front lines fell back, and the regiments on the left and right flanks cut a brutal wound of death towards the center of his forces. Jaguar Knights perished also, and those engaged in the combat felt the momentum of the fight turning. With instinct as his guide, Machek rode his stallion to the front line and drew his sword. He struck downward at the ferocious Dog People as they surged towards him. Machek’s forces rallied and shouted as he rode into the heat of the battle with them.
Acatel remained behind the fighting as Machek’s forces tightened their grip. The warriors of the People of the Sun encircled his forces, preventing any retreat. Two of his commanders had fallen on the battlefield, his third wounded by an arrow that protruded from his thigh. Acatel sensed the outcome of the fight and turned to look for an escape.
He spotted a dead Jaguar Knight fifty paces from where he stood, and dismounted from his horse to run towards the lifeless body. Acatel leapt upon the man and wrestled with him. From a distance, it appeared as though he were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy. He feigned a stab in the chest and fell on the dead sold
ier, pulling other bodies near him to mask his actions. Their glassy eyes stared through him while cold blood smeared his armor. As fast as he could, Acatel removed his battle armor and medallions, trading them for the dress and weapons of the dead Jaguar Knight. He lay still as the battle roared above him. Battle-axes swung close to his head and nicked his flesh. Acatel suppressed a cry of pain and remained motionless on the battlefield.
***
“Sir, we have confirmation that a warrior killed Lord Major Acatel,” reported one of Machek’s commanders.
“Where?”
“To the left of the front line.”
Machek put the spyglass to his eyes and scanned the tangle of bloody corpses sprawled on the ground. He stopped at one with a large helmet and decorative medals. The man’s chest remained still.
“Make sure the birds do not consume his rotten flesh.”
With that, the commander moved through the fighting to the place where Acatel had fallen. When he got there, a muscled warrior was kneeling in front of the body. The fighting moved beyond that point as Acatel’s forces became fewer in number.
“I have slain Lord Major Acatel,” the soldier said.
“What is your name and your rank?”
The soldier stood in front of the commander, and as he rose, the commander realized his error. Acatel took a dagger and buried it deep into the commander’s abdomen. The man fell into Acatel, who turned the blade until the man stopped moving. He maneuvered off the front line and back through Machek’s forces, and stabbed himself in the thigh, careful not to pierce muscle or major arteries. When the medics saw his injury, they rushed him onto a cot and out of the fighting.
***
Machek pulled back from the front line as his warriors killed the last remnants of Acatel’s forces. Shouts of victory rose up from the battlefield. Men raised their weapons in the air and saluted the lord major of the Jaguar Knights. Machek assessed the results of the battle. He had lost a full regiment of men, but held the line and repelled the first wave of attack by the infidels. This would not be the last battle, but the victory gave the People of the Sun hope.