Still, La’ibum felt the need to uphold his honor and manhood with some statement, but once again, directly across from him, that damned trader seemed to appear from nowhere, inclining his narrow face (with all its odd, shadowy angles) and black leather Petasos hat directly at him. La’ibum felt a strange chill go down his spine. He swallowed twice and nodded to his host.
“Yes,” La’ibum said, “it would be my honor.”
The next morning, leaving his ship, La’ibum found Goodswap waiting for him at the end of the pier. The trader smiled as the young man approached, revealing a wide mouth filled with perfect white teeth with the single exception of a gap marking a missing left lateral incisor.
La’ibum bade his guards to give him and the trader space to converse.
“Your guidance yesterday was appreciated,” La’ibum said, “but unnecessary, Goodswap. I am, after all, a man now.”
“Of course, young lord,” Goodswap agreed, “but even the wisest and eldest of kings accept advice from their counselors. Besides, I knew you would have come to the appropriate conclusions yourself. I was merely attempting to save you some unneeded effort. So, you are off to spend another day with the first family of Thera?”
“Yes,” La’ibum said, “I am their guest. They wish me to teach them several board games. At least, that is what I have been told. I’m pretty sure the first family is looking to acquire a new son-in-law. And here I thought I was going to be able to leave such politics, trade, and intrigue behind me on this summer adventure.”
“You are a future king, milord,” Goodswap said. “Forgive me, but responsibility is one slave chain you will never shed. If I may be so bold, pray consider that the politics of ruling, caring for and feeding one’s people, why, even war itself, all can be seen as merely larger and more complex versions of these board games you have always been fond of.”
“Such an odd idea, Goodswap,” La’ibum said. “Tell me, trader, has this trip been a profitable one for you?”
“Most profitable,” Goodswap said, towering a full foot over the Akkadian. “I have made over five hundred transactions with both men and women of various standing.”
“And yet you have nary a bag upon your person,” La’ibum said, “nor porters or cart.”
“Rest assured my goods are safe and secreted,” Goodswap said, “and in fact, I would ask that you consider this one bauble I have left.”
Goodswap reached under his robe and produced a strange device, a seven-inch-long tapered tube that appeared to be made of finely crafted and shaped bronze, and was capped on either end by clear, polished crystals.
“It is from the distant court of Emperor Yao,” Goodswap said, “and has a most unusual function.”
“And what is that?” La’ibum asked.
“Merely look through it,” Goodswap said. “No, the other way, through the smaller clear gem. Yes, that’s right.”
“I don’t see how…”
“Now look at something in the distance,” Goodswap said, “the bull guardians at the harbor entrance.”
“It’s blurry.”
“Now twist the tube near your eye in either direction,” Goodswap said.
“I still don’t…hey.” La’ibum almost shouted, “I can see the ivory bulls. It is like I am a mere fifty feet from them. What magic is this, Goodswap?”
“Science, my lord,” Goodswap smiled.
“Will a gold piece suffice?” La’ibum asked.
“No, milord,” Goodswap said. “I am here to barter, and what I require are your last two ivory markers.”
La’ibum almost gasped. He would need the ivory markers if he wished to enter any more contests during the rest of the week.
“I don’t think I can…”
“I have a feeling,” Goodswap said, “that after today, you will not feel particularly challenged by what these blood games might offer you.”
La’ibum glanced up quickly at the strange words and made eye contact with Goodswap. The trader’s eyes were dark and penetrating. For a moment La’ibum felt that he could drown in those bottomless wells of emptiness if he stared too long.
“I swear to you, La’ibum,” Goodswap said, “you will need this viewing device for the most noble and brave challenge of your life, today.”
“But…I am not competing,” La’ibum stuttered, “that is, in anything but the roll of dice and movement of small figurines.”
“My device for your markers, my lord,” Goodswap repeated.
Reluctantly, La’ibum pulled the ivory tickets out of a leather satchel and handed them over to the tall trader, and then tied the bronze viewing tube to his tunic belt. A shout from one of his guards made him turn around.
“Yes, I know,” La’ibum said, “we’ll leave in a minute.”
Turning back, La’ibum found himself standing alone. That damned trader had once again slipped away unseen into the surrounding masses.
Midmorning, La’ibum greeted the sun with a deep breath while standing upon the small courtyard of the first family of Thera, their estate carved into the lowest inner peak opposite the harbor entrance of the island nation. Below, the majority of competitors, roughly twenty thousand in number, paraded onto all four sports fields. This was the only time during the entire week, the second day of the summer solstice, when one might see all of the competitors (those that had survived to this point) together at one time in one place. In this, at least, La’ibum felt grateful for his current perch.
Breakfast had been a delightful affair as La’ibum spent over three hours explaining all the various rules and stratagem of his favorite board games, and could see that Kallinoros was impressed with the young lord’s keen mind for detail and statistics. Afterward La’ibum took a small stroll to view the many lovely statues that sprinkled the exterior of this estate.
“The great lake at Thera’s center seems more active than usual, Oreanos,” La’ibum told his host’s daughter who had attempted to silently approach him from behind. “The steam plumes are cycling faster than in recent days.”
“Unfair, sir,” Oreanos laughed. “You could not hear me. I stepped as light as a rock dove and I cast no shadow.”
“Ahhhh but your endearing perfume was carried downwind, little sister,” La’ibum smiled.
“Bah,” Oreanos said, “everyone calls me that. I am a woman and a princess. Don’t you find me comely, Prince La’ibum?”
“I require no such titles on Thera, fair Oreanos,” La’ibum said. “Think of me as just one more warrior amidst the blood games.”
“Hah, not likely, Prince,” Oreanos said with a smirk. “I know all about you, sir. A royal letter and much gold arrived this morning from the Kingdom of Akkad. Your mother the queen wished to give her gratitude to any family that may have offered you comfort. My father is greatly honored by this recognition.”
La’ibum ground his teeth in frustration. Was there no place upon the Earth he could escape the notice of his personal matriarch? Just as he was about to snap out a biting remark, a startling sound filled the air.
Oreanos screamed.
La’ibum spun around and saw a wondrous site. A gigantic plume of bright green steam erupted upward from the central lake, nearly half a mile, and quickly dissipated in the air, not falling back as short rain, as Thera’s steam plumes most often did.
“This is unexpected?” La’ibum asked.
“Yes,” Oreanos replied, “this has never happened, in either mine or my people’s memory.”
The household had now emptied onto the courtyard to see the happenings below.
“The games,” Kallinoros shouted, “has there been a disruption?”
Suddenly inspired, La’ibum disconnected his bronze viewing tube from his belt and adjusted its focus. Thousands of warriors were wavering in hesitation and many more had slowly backed away from the central lake. Nobody appeared to have been hurt by the strange steam plume.
“All appears normal, my lord,” La’ibum said, “perhaps this is just an aberration in you
r waters…”
Oreanos screamed again. “Look. Coming out of the lake.”
La’ibum raised his looking glass to eye once again and saw a horrific site. Creatures out of myth and nightmare, first by the dozens, and then hundreds, began crawling onto the entire shore of the mighty lake. Some as large as a man, some larger than an aurochs, things with claws and scales, massive teeth, others with twenty-foot-long tentacles. Several man-sized creatures with bat-like wings took to the air. One swooped down above the courtyard, grabbing up a screaming slave in a swath of blood, and flew away with him.
The head of the palace guards rushed to Kallinoros’s side.
“My lord, you must enter your house. We will do our best to barricade the entrance and protect you from this madness.”
La’ibum, his mind working faster than it ever had, did his best to take in everything that was happening around him.
“No,” La’ibum said loud, “what about the city below? Are your generals below? Are your police trained to suppress this dark magic?”
Kallinoros, looking to be in mid-panic, shook his head wildly. “No, of course not. This is all madness. The gods have turned on us and we must hide until their retribution is done. Everyone, into the temple, now.”
“No,” La’ibum yelled, “you can fight this, can’t you see? You have well-trained, well-armed men below. They only lack direction.”
The air was now filled with at least two hundred of the giant bat creatures who were swooping down and killing and stealing up dozens of onlookers not wise enough to hide behind shuttered doors and windows.
“Give me your trust, my lord,” La’ibum practically screamed, “I need but your flag signalers and your palace archers.”
Kallinoros grabbed his wife and daughter and ducked under the deadly swoop of one of the flying creatures.
“Very well,” Kallinoros yelled, “I grant you my authority, Prince. Do what you must.”
And La’ibum now found himself, thirty archers, and Veros and his six fellow flag signalers all alone upon the courtyard.
“Archers,” La’ibum ordered, “you must protect the flag bearers from all flying threats. They are needed to save your countrymen below. Veros.”
“Yes, my lord,” Veros said.
“I will relay all my commands through you,” La’ibum said. “Now. Prepare your flags.”
La’ibum raised his viewing glass and desperately and quickly surveyed the four fields and the great central lake below. The neat, ordered rows of warriors were quickly shifting as an equal mix of them were breaking ranks in a slow retreat, or unleashing weapons to defend themselves against the forward momentum of what was now a sloppily marching army of monsters.
“Halt retreat,” La’ibum shouted, “reform ranks. Ready weapons.”
Three times Veros had this signaled by flag. It took two horrendously long minutes for the flag readers and signalers on the outer side of each field to note the instructions, but once they did, dozens of runners were sent to cowering monks and officials. By the third minute the masses of warriors began to obey their orders and redress their ranks.
Looking through his eyeglass La’ibum was suddenly struck with the odd notion that the large sports fields and central lake were but the surface of a table game laid out for his pleasure. Shaking the bizarre thought from his head he began barking out more commands.
“Veros, archers on all four fields face the waterfronts. Load bows and target within a yard of water’s edge. We need to stop the accumulation of enemy forces.”
A minute later Veros shouted, “Done, my lord.”
“Fire,” La’ibum shouted back.
Ten seconds later hundreds of arrows fell upon the vile creatures now trying to exit the lake. In the meantime, thousands of monstrosities had crossed the great circular beach and were encroaching upon all four of the sports fields.
“Veros,” La’ibum shouted, “all forces, with the exception of spear throwers, withdraw fifty paces. Spear throwers target leading ranks of attackers.”
A flurry of flag signals and twenty seconds later the warriors below hurried into positions.
“Good,” La’ibum mumbled to himself, “reaction time is shorter. We might have a chance.”
Thirty seconds later La’ibum shouted, “Cast spears.”
Four thousand spears of various lengths and piercing capability flew through the air and impacted the front wave of vile monstrosities, killing many, crippling others.
“Again,” La’ibum shouted.
The connection between waving flag and warrior response below was not long lost on the attacking monsters, as the giant bat-things began a concerted dive-bombing of the mountain shelf that was La’ibum’s command center. The palace archers found themselves hard pressed to blunt this attack, but they managed to hold their ground moment to moment.
“Again,” La’ibum shouted, watching the third and final volley of spears take their toll. Still, the monsters advanced.
“Veros, all axe bearers, mace bearers, and heavy swords prepare for assault,” La’ibum commanded. “All archers to save their final volleys for the attacking front of the enemy.”
La’ibum pulled his viewing glass from his eye and scanned all the perimeter of the isle that he could see. He had to make sure there would be no surprise counterattack on any flank. After committing his heavy weapons he would not have much in reserve for unexpected surprises.
“Archers fire at advancing enemy,” La’ibum shouted. Hundreds more of the creatures fell.
La’ibum stood tall and unsheathed his own sword, holding it high.
“Charge,” he yelled.
Thousands of hardened warriors from all across the world charged forward to engage thousands of nightmare beasts beneath a beautiful sunlit, cerulean sky. The spectacle was beyond breathtaking, beyond sublime, beyond any madness that La’ibum could ever imagine. Hundreds of men died in pain and gore splash as monstrous claw, fang, and tentacle met human flesh. Hundreds more beasts fell in pools of multicolored gore as axe, blade, and mace tore them asunder.
Oh you mighty, pure, brave men, La’ibum thought, if we survive I will have the greatest songs ever written composed for your wondrous deeds today.
A bat-thing swooped too near La’ibum, extending a nasty claw that glanced across the right side of his head. It was a nasty-looking but ultimately shallow wound that a slave quickly bound with a strip of his tunic. The pain was almost overwhelming, but La’ibum pushed aside all thought of it to focus on the battle below.
“Field four,” La’ibum shouted, “shore up your right flank. Field one, buttress your center with long pikes. Field three, advance with all forces, your attackers are fewest in numbers.”
And so for the next half of an hour La’ibum advanced, retreated, sacrificed, and regrouped the warriors below until he found that the remaining hundreds of monsters had been temporarily pushed back to the sloped beaches of the great central lake.
Another inspiration struck and La’ibum turned to Veros, “All barrels of oil, of any kind, are to be immediately transferred to the front line. Raid any storehouse, royal or otherwise, and get those barrels moved. We may have only minutes.”
This required the most complex subtlety displayed yet by the flag signalers, and La’ibum prayed to the gods that the surviving monks and officials below would interpret and act upon these commands in time.
Five minutes later La’ibum could see with his viewing glass that carts and laborers from all over the island were rushing to the interior. In another five minutes barrels were carried toward the beach in droves.
Suddenly, the waters of the central lake began bubbling furiously, and short spouts of bright green steam shot into the air. La’ibum knew he had little to no time to engage his plan. Just then, a small hand grasped his left forearm. Oreanos had left the safety of the temple.
“I love you, La’ibum,” Oreanos said, “I would die by your side.”
La’ibum placed his left arm protectively over her
shoulders, “Not if I can help it.”
As the majority of the barrels arrived, La’ibum turned to Veros, “Empty all oil onto…”
Two bat creatures swooped down at La’ibum. Oreanos screamed. Royal arrows intersected both, but one lived and struck both La’ibum and Oreanos, knocking them to the ground. Half-crippled, the surviving bat-thing crawled over courtyard stone to finish off Oreanos. When it was within inches of her terrified form an avenging and snarling La’ibum leaped upon it, striking the vile creature’s head from its shoulders with a mighty swing of his Akkadian sword.
La’ibum sheathed his weapon, scooped up the diminutive princess with his left hand, and pulled the viewing glass up to his eye with his right.
The central lake was bubbling furiously now and several bright green plumes of steam shot into the air, some as high as twenty-five feet.
“Veros,” La’ibum yelled, “empty all oil downward onto the beach and into the lake itself. Now, before it is too late.”
Within minutes the massive but narrow beachfront was covered in oil, and more was poured down and soon spread onto and eventually across the surface of the central lake. With his viewing glass La’ibum could see the last of the arrows, spears, throwing hatchets, slings, and boomerangs thrown and emptied in their final efforts to keep the remaining monster horde at bay.
“Light all torches and bear them to the beach,” La’ibum yelled.
The response below was almost instantaneous and from above it appeared to La’ibum and Oreanos that a bright solid gold ring surrounded the lake.
“What does it mean, La’ibum,” Oreanos said.
“Salvation or doom,” La’ibum said. “Pray for the former, my bride.”
Oreanos barely had time to gasp in surprise when La’ibum turned to Veros.
“When the green plume rises as before,” La’ibum shouted, “throw all torches onto the beach.”
Death by Water Page 33