War Pigs

by Jay Requard

  6

  Apologies

  Sundown had come and gone by the time Lut made his way to the eastern groves, through the same paths he had walked so many times before to do something he knew was madness, but now he truly questioned his hold on reality. His ax's edge caught the dim light of the stars that dappled the forest floor, and every sound held a long, dangerous pause.

  "Hello, my little prince."

  Her voice, a silver chime of heaven, staked Lut to his spot. His hands went weak, his ax grew heavy, and slowly he turned in her direction, his mouth agape as he struggled to calm his breathing. There, at the edge of the grove, stood the Azure Queen. With her head crowned in flowers, she went naked as she always did, her blue flesh perfectly smooth, her contours gently shaped, and her eyes glowing gold.

  Lut regained his voice; his hands tightened on the shaft of his weapon. "You never leave your grove."

  She came forward, her steps light and fluid, like a swallow upon the morning breeze. "Can I not make exceptions for those I hold in my heart?"

  The sway of her hips, the bounce of her breasts, and flutter of her locks entranced Lut. The distance closed before he knew it, and aware of her proximity, he backed away. He held his ax low at the ready. "Don't. Don't come closer."

  She smiled at him, her perfect brow pinched in confusion. "Do you fear me, Lut?"

  "I remember your promise. If you are here for that, then I am prepared."

  The Azure Queen laughed, a sound like the tinkle of gold coins falling in a shower. "Oh, my dear, dear love." Her mirth subsided into a quiet, worried expression. "I know things were said—"

  "And done. I remember the schemes you to made. I remember Tet." Lut raised Ravager in warning. "I remember the Inners you sent after me."

  "Things were said," she finished with a hint of annoyance. "But that was then and this is now. You've done so much since we parted, and any bitterness I have is gone. Look at you, Lut! Look at what you have done! You have freed your people from false gods like The Burnt Maiden. You have challenged powers beyond your ability, using only the skill of your body and the strength of your convictions."

  "And I'm not done.”

  "You don't have to be." Her exuberance plain on her beautiful face, the Azure Queen crossed the last few yards between them, coming so close Lut could smell the water and grass inhabiting her skin.

  She rested her hand on the swell of his wide chest, her touch a soothing transfer of a power he had long lusted after. "There is a reason I have come to you, my love. I have taken notice of your power, and admitting my mistakes in the past... oh, my love, why must we remain apart?"

  The impact of her words, of the acknowledgment that she had been wrong, sent his soul soaring. Tears he thought he would never shed in this life edged his eyes. "You're truly sorry?"

  "Yes," the Azure Queen said, cradling his scarred face in her hands. Her thumb brushed his swollen lips until it reached the nearest brown tusk, which she stroked lovingly. "And now, Lut, you and I can be what we were meant to be. You have slain pretenders, defeated their greatest champions, and removed a corruption that enslaved your people. We can finish your work together. Me, Mystland's great goddess, and her lover, Lut the Ravager, the god made flesh."

  The beauty of the moment, the freedom in his heart—it jarred at that one word, that one damnable word that caught his joy and strangled it. "A god?"

  "Yes," she answered with a bright, excited smile. "There are ways, Lut, ways to make you like myself—beautiful and everlasting."

  He turned his face into her hand, which pushed his lips apart until his tongue probed the gap. The tip brushed against her palm. The taste of her body threatened to bring him to his knees. Lut stepped back and took her hand. "Come, my goddess. Let me show the world what I have made for you."

  Delighted, she allowed Lut to lead her from the grove, back to the valley's center where her troops remained. Her black hooded warriors still waited in their lines upon the bleached heath, silent as they approached. The Roofed had maintained their own fronts on both sides of the valley, their presence stark beneath the torches they carried.

  "My friends," Lut called to those who watched them. He held Ravager up high for all to see. "Rejoice, for we are graced by the light of the divine, a radiant soul so pure it makes the stars seem dim."

  The horde remained silent.

  Lut glanced to his divine lover, who beamed at his words. "She has come to grant blessings upon us! For the salvation of Mystland's soul, shed by Shur's light, Ata's glow, we have been offered a chance to unify our nation. Roofed and Inners together, all for the glory of one great god!" He thrust his ax high with a mighty shout. "All for one great god."

  He brought his gaze back to the Azure Queen, but instead of love, he looked upon her with malice. The tenor of the hordes changed in that moment, and all together, the Roofed started to walk from the woods, their arms bared for war. The Azure Queen met Lut's glare with confusion.

  "But what have the gods given us?" Lut asked aloud as he faced her. "Glory? We gain that through the work of iron. Love? It only matters when it is freely shared and without constraint. Safety? Mystland claws at itself, feasted on by beings not like Shur. Not like Ata."

  It was then the warriors in the center of the valley stepped forward, their hands reaching up to tear off their black hoods. They stepped to the side in unison, revealing behind them a field carpeted in bodies as far as the eye could see.

  "You all dare?" the Azure Queen screamed. The golden hair on her head stood on end as her blue skin glowed, shades brighter than the stars in the sky. To Lut's relief, none of his Roofed fled. "How can you stand against your betters?"

  Bolstered by their steadfast courage, he stepped toward her. "We used to cower before things we did not understand. We used to flee from those we thought born of stars. But we know better now—we know the truth in their waters."

  Those words, echoed from the past, drew a cold response from the water spirit. She smoldered at Lut, at his kind, at his iron as the illusions of grace disappeared.

  Hands balled into fists, the Azure Queen regained her composure. "So what now, Lut?" she asked. "How do you want this to end?"

  "With what else?" he asked, grinning at his victory. "I want to fight."

  Part IV

  Never Again

  1

  Twenty-One Twelve

  "Down," shouted Dras. "Down!"

  Lut dropped down to his belly on the order, pushing back to his feet immediately before his second could repeat the call. His breath came in gasps as he jogged in place, unable to steady his knees as blood swelled in his thighs and calves. The next order never came, and opening his eyes past the slits sweat held them to, he saw the grin on Dras' face.

  "Am I done?" he shouted, angry.

  Dras burst out in laughter and waved him to stop. "Go rest, Lut. We'll start again at sunset."

  Lut went still, relieved to be done with that day's round of training. Joints aching, he started his walk away from the camp, off into the hills where a small spring ran cold in the shadows of an ancient grove, much like the one he knew his enemy would reside within until the day they met. Leaves rusted as they fluttered in the wind, and kneeling before water, he bent over to stick his snout into the cool, clean pool. Guzzling mouthfuls, the quaff went on for a long while before the patting of small feet broke his peace. Jolted upright, he turned onto his bottom in anticipation of an attacker.

  Mei stood a few feet away from the pool, struck still by Lut's rapid movement. She clutched her bag to her chest.

  "Mei," he said, embarrassed at his response. "Sorry."

  "I'll not hurt you," she said.

  He let her approach. She sat beside him on the spring's bank and opened her leather bag to extract a small clay pipe stuffed with cannabis. Producing a small stick of Shen design that would light at one end when dragged against stone or iron, she scratched it against flint. Drawing the new flame into the end of the pipe, he breathed out a thick fo
g of smoke. He and Mei sat there by the trickling stream for long minutes until dullness settled in his joints, a needed respite from the aches and pains he carried.

  Mei laid a hand on Lut's right knee once he was calmed. "Does it hurt here?"

  "No," he said.

  She touched his elbow next. "Here?"

  "No."

  Her hand went to his neck. "What about here?"

  "No, Mei," he said, annoyed by the repeated question. Mei nodded as she withdrew her hand, and again a silence assumed the space between them.

  Focused on the placid surface of the spring, Lut watched the trees reflected in its mirror dance on the breeze, spreading their leaves as the wind tore them from the branches. They darted and floated on the currents, circling toward the earth. He grinned at the fall.

  He would beat her. He would march upon her territory, carrying a poison Mei would brew to ruin the pond's liquid—a final insurance to make sure this creature never rose again.

  Never again.

  Those two words, so simple in breadth and substance, stabbed Lut's strong heart. The beauty of the withering trees above him, the spice upon the autumn wind, and the ripples in the spring's pool faded against the looming ghost of the past.

  Mei spoke. "Lut?"

  “What?”

  He felt her hand lay upon his furred chest, over the spot where his heart beat. "Does it hurt here?" she asked, her voice small and sad.

  "Yes, Mei." Tears fell down his green cheeks. "Yes."

  They sat there until Dras came to collect Lut for a meal before his next training session.

  Winter passed with his snowy shroud, blanketing the hills and valleys white, until Shur rose to battle with his bright javelins of sunlight. Through the first rains and the breaking of the hoarfrost, Lut honed Ravager's cold edge, scraping away at the doubt, fear, and sadness until only cruelty remained.

  With summer's blinding sunrises and rising heat, the days counting down to the war festival imbued a nervousness within the Roofed living inside Lut's fortress, which spread over the days and weeks to the rest of Mystland. Word traveled that this year's gathering would be attended by every faction that held sway in the gloomy hills of ash and brier, from the secretive Branched to the Five Brothers who held the western climbs. Even dreaded Strotos, whose red-bannered clans roamed like nomads, wanted to see how one of their fellows fared against the legend of Ravager.

  A great migration ensued as tens of thousands urged upon the valley where ghosts whispered the glories of those who came before. The Roofed arrived days before the rest, taking the time to honor their leader by digging the pit where he would fight his former goddess, carving from the hard clay soil a wide well that touched from western side of the valley to its eastern border, a half-mile that would allow Lut room to ply his tactics.

  Only armies gathered. After the Roofed arrived the Inner legions of Strotos, shaggy in their rag-covered armors trimmed with black, purple, and green. The Branched emerged from the forests next, quiet and curious. The iron-wielders of The Five Brothers, a collection who painted their faces white and their limbs yellow, arrived in their regimented block, kicking their legs out as they paraded to their apportioned campsite.

  And then, the night before Lut's fight, appeared the Azure Queen.

  She led her Black Hoods, her head wreathed in a crown of thorns interspersed with white roses, a rare flower in the harsh environs of Mystland. A shirt of gold mail, made of threaded gold coins, glittered on her fit physique.

  Lut only caught a glimpse of her as she passed by, though she paid him no attention.

  Morning came with horns instead of birdsong, and sitting in his tent, Lut could see the shadows the sun cut upon his canvas walls, bodies moving beyond its dense screen.

  Seated on his bedroll, he had dressed himself in his new armor, a leather harness that covered his right arm with thin plates of iron shaped to his muscular limb. It secured itself at the wrist, two ties at the elbow, and held to his body by a chest piece made of linked iron rings. He completed the kit with an open-face helm made of leather and horn, a pair of hobnailed war-sandals, and a small shield that he strapped to his left forearm.

  Dras patted the flaps of his tent. "It’s time, Lut."

  "I'm coming."

  Ravager clutched in his right hand, Lut emerged from his shelter to find the Roofed gathered before the entrance. Droves cheered loudly as he stood in surprise.

  "Lut-tik-tik-tik," they chanted. "Lut-tik-tik-tik!"

  Touched by the adoration, he fought a smile in his cheeks. Dras, stationed with a trio of guards that would lead him to the pit, watched proudly with mighty Bloodtide on his shoulder. Mei stayed close to him, somehow exactly where she should be. Together the Roofed marched their champion, their hope, to the field where the battle for Mystland's future would be determined.

  "Lut-tik-tik-tik! Lut-tik-tik-tik!"

  The Azure Queen was there, smiling as the chants died the closer The Roofed reached the valley's center. She had assumed the middle of the shallows, right where the water would have pooled if a rain had fallen. The bed lay cracked, dry and dusty.

  "Hello, Lut," the Azure Queen called. "A fine day for a fight, though it is my first. Am I wearing the right armor?" She displayed her shirt of gold coins to her audience. "This sham of a holiday is so trite. What sorts of people deserve freedom if they are going to fight each other afterward? It's like you’re all bloody children."

  No one in the crowd spoke against her insults. Even the Inners, who viewed themselves as paragons and protectors of Wagani culture, looked shameful as Lut closed the distance.

  "And iron," she continued, gesturing at the weapon in his hand. "You worship it like it lives, when all it does is take life. Does it give you other purpose? No. Does it give you morals? Of course not. And above all, it does not give you order." The Azure Queen brought her hand to her chest, her fingers pressed against the aurum rings of her shirt. "The gods of this land give you, the savages, order. Without us, you would not have your tents, or clans, or honor. All you'd have is the dirt beneath your clawed feet, the cold in your spotted flesh..."

  She lifted her hands, palms toward the sky. In marched a series of dark clouds rolling from the nearby horizon, clashing with thunder. Lightning lanced from the roiling banks. Then the rain—a few drops at first—assaulted the hills in sheets of cold arrows.

  Drenched by the sudden deluge, every Wag gasped, infused with a horrified awe that she was a goddess. The skies of Mystland were hers.

  Lut did not gasp.

  His gaze lifted to the rented sky, letting it bathe the parts of his face his helmet did not cover, a cool shower that eased his nerves from his face to his feet. Letting the rain wet his body, Lut laughed with the sky's boom. He went on until his breath left him, not giving a damn about the hundreds of thousands of eyes upon him or the unhappy look the Azure Queen paid his reaction.

  "Do not mock my power," declared the Azure Queen. "You'd be a fool to dare."

  "I dare because I am a fool," cried Lut, mocking. "A fool hears Shur's song, for it is not a song for the beautiful or the meaningless. It is a song for those that dare the rain, dare death, all for one fleeting moment of freedom! You speak of iron like it is worthless, but it is not iron that gives us worth in spite of the rain, the wind, and the flame." He lifted Ravager up, pointing it at her. "You dare speak of war. Wagani have no need of it, but we must, for look what the world has given us. We are surrounded by nations that seek to enslave us, a sky and earth that waits to devour us, and false gods who exploit us. All we fools have is iron, and in iron we have a choice."

  "Choice?" The Azure Queen barked in laughter. "You have a choice in the way you die, nothing more."

  "What more does a soul a need?"

  A murmur of approval stirred within the crowd.

  Lut heard it, and his ax still thrust in the water spirit's direction, he stepped toward her unafraid. "Let me die proud in the face of my enemy, not cowering in a tent bought throug
h my enslavement!"

  A cry of life resounded, and hundreds of Roofed cheered.

  "An ugly world for an ugly people!" Clenching her teeth tight, she stared wide-eyed at Lut, every piece of her alive with the storm. Wrath manifested in the growing blue glow beneath her skin. "Have you nothing beyond that?"

  “Only courage,” Lut replied.

  He charged for a mighty blow, his balance steady in the slop. His will ebbed the closer he came to the raging spirit, but fueled by courage, Lut met his enemy with a heavy slash aimed for her long neck.

  The Azure Queen caught Ravager's descending edge without effort.

  She stepped forward, and with a quick shove to the center of his chest knocked Lut off his feet. Flying through the air, he landed hard on the back of his head and neck, rolling in the mud until he flopped onto his stomach.

  Lut crawled to his hands and knees, pawing the ground for his weapon. The place where she had struck his chest smelled of roasted flesh. Bits of his mail, broken by her force, hung heavy as individual rings fell into the soft earth.

  "So you all want war," she said, standing over him. "Fine. You and yours will have it."

  The Azure Queen kicked, batting him in the side of the head. His helmet knocked off, Lut flailed desperately to stop from rolling across the field, skipped like a stone upon a lake. When he stilled he looked around the world, unable to make out shapes or colors. Resigned to light clashing with darkness, he started to crawl again in some direction, hoping somehow it would lead to Ravager.

  The Azure Queen's laugh echoed with the beat of the rain in his ears, a horrid sound.

  He spotted a gray gleam. Lut clawed the ground, fighting for every ounce of strength he needed to traverse the distance. Blood flooded his mouth, causing his breaths to come out in choking gasps.

  He closed both hands to the handle of his weapon.

  "Get up," she said without a trace of mercy. "Come on, get up. It would not do any good for you to die this way, my little prince."