Second Born

by Lance Wilson

  “Hate boats. If the Lord wanted man to sail he wouldn’t have created infantry.” Bolvive says with a chuckle.

  “How many times you puke today?” Byrdi says smiling at the water

  “I’m down to two.” Bolvive says smiling at him

  The two of the water as it sparkles and then watch the sun crest over the water turning it crimson. As the two watch this Kage makes his way to them and stands next to them his hands behind his back.

  “I understand you are a scholar, Captain Byrdi. Have you read his book, Bolvive” Kage asks calmly but doesn’t look at either of them.

  “Can’t say I have.” Bolvive says just watching the sun.

  “An analysis of the triumph of weapons technology over antiquated military tactics.” Kage says smiling at the idea.

  “A real page-turner. Sold twelve copies.” Byrdi says mostly ignoring the elf

  “Nonetheless, I was impressed. I enjoy reading military history. I spent two years studying the elven languages in a Sylvan elf temple,” Kage says hoping to impress the young soldier.

  “And where did you learn to speak your own?” Byrdi says smiling as the sun finally makes its final stages and the water turns from pale lavenders to the blue it always is.

  “Yes, and in Salatar there are twenty-seven words for “war.” I will be impressed if you learn only half of them. ” Kage says insulted at the remark then turns and walks away.

  Byrdi’s face darkens as he watches him go. He shakes his head, everywhere it is the same and no one seems to get the true equation.

  “I got twenty-seven words too—Kainith elf, Sylvan elf, Denerith elf, human, Vulkoori. Only one language when it comes to war.

  It is almost two more days before they arrive at the docks of Yansirramus, the closest of the eastern elven islands. Like all of the eastern culture it is at the cusp of a new era. Ancient Sampans and wooden schooners sit beside freighters and the newest of sea travel, steamships. Byrdi is frustrated at all the movement and activity. He has spent too much time with the wood elves living simply; society and civilization now frustrate and anger him. He watches and Bolvive and Patroclus begin talking to other getting things moving for their journey to the camp. He however sits on a barrel and pulls out his leather bound journal and begins to write.

  ‘After 23 days at sea, they are all glad to climb down the gangplank. The Yansirramus docks are a frenzy of languages and looks and smells and sounds. Salatar competes with Denerith elf and Sylvan and human and dwarf. Warehouses fly the flags of a dozen countries. One striking Salatar character dominates: the symbol for, Kage. It is seen on buildings, warehouses, and the headbands of scores of laborers. I feel he has a personal stake in this revolution, I wonder if we are fighting for the Salatar or for him’

  He finishes his last line and then looks around the dock putting his journal back in his pack. A series of palanquins, litters carried by bearers, await our voyagers. As does Simon, a dissipated human priest who has lived in the eastern islands for many yean. Slender and pale, with an occasional consumptive cough, in

  His 50’s, he wears a brown cotton shirt and pants with a white silk tunic over it with the symbol of his church on the front, a red eye with the inner, lower corner line missing, another line looking like an eyebrow connecting on the outside and moving at an upward arch toward the inner eye. Then another line from the tip of where the corner line stops forming what looks like a long tear. Byrdi recognizes this as the symbol of Ioun, a god of knowledge and skill. He wonders why this man is hearing but figures someone will explain it to him.

  “Captain Byrdi, this is Mr. Simon. He will be your translator.” Kage says now walking up to Simon and Byrdi for there introductions.

  “It is Father Simon please, and it is a pleasure, captain.” Simon says, his voice youthful and cheerful despite his age.

  “You’ll be quartered at the Embassy for now.” Patroclus says now joining the rest of them with Bolvive at his side.

  “The Emperor will summon you at his pleasure.” Kage says and begins to usurer them to there carriage.

  Simon ushers Byrdi and Bolvive into their own less-ornate version.

  “If you please, Captain” he says and gestures to the carriages.

  The carriage is like nothing Byrdi has seen. It is a cart with two rods at the end and instead of being pulled by a horse or ox it is pulled by elves, Salatar elves at that.

  “They’re gonna carry us?” Byrdi says a bit confused and disgusted.

  “You’re guests of the Emperor. You cannot walk.” Simon says taken back at the fact that he doesn’t know the importance he now holds here.

  Byrdi looks around the carriage walking around it and notes that each of the pullers is also wearing a black hood with some kind of mesh visor that apparently they can see through, but you cannot see them. This confuses him and he looks over again at Simon.

  “Why the hoods?” he asks looking closer at them.

  “So you won’t have to burden your eyes by looking at slaves. Oh, excuse me, they’re servants now. This way, gentlemen…” Simon says and then lets out a bit of a cough. It is a hacking cough and when he pulls away the Lenin he can see a bit of blood splatter, but he pays it no attention.

  Their bearers maneuver them through the bustling streets of Yansirramus. Painted Salatar courtesans walk alongside bearded dwarves. Traditional

  Salatar kimonos alongside western suits and hats, schizophrenic world of the ancient east versus modern commercialism.

  “Twenty years ago Yansirramus was a lovely little port. Then your Commodore Perry arrived and changed all that.” Simon says with a bit of irritation in his voice.

  “All this in twenty years?” Byrdi says in shock at so much has been done in so little time.

  “The islands of Salatar has embraced… Western ways. Hired lawmakers from the Kainith elf kingdoms, doctors from Sylvan Empire, architects from the dwarves, civil engineers, railway designers, scientists, teachers. And, of course, warriors from the Denerith elves.” Simon says explaining what he is seeing and the fact that what he sees is only the tip of the iceberg

  “Buying the future.” Byrdi says with disgust of his own.

  “Or selling the past, pending on how you wish to see it” Simon says seeing that he has found a fellow that may see things his way as well. Someone not caught up in how things could be, but rather how they should stay.

  Soon they all arrive at the embassy and are shown to their room. The first shown to a room is Byrdi. He walks with Simon through the halls. The halls appear to be made of some kind of paper with a skeletal structure of wood that you can see through the paper. When they get to the door a shoji screen is opened by a bowing servant to reveal the clean, classic lines of a Salatar room. Byrdi is about to enter when Simon stops him,

  Indicating for Byrdi to remove his boots. Byrdi scowls, confused, and struggles to pull off the high, filthy boots. He takes in the foreignness of the room, an arrangement of flowers on a low table.

  “No chairs?” Byrdi asks confused at all of this.

  “Correct. And this.is your bed.” Simon says and point to a mat on the floor.

  “And this?” Byrdi says and points to a block of wood at the head of the mat.

  “Your pillow.” Simon says understanding the confusion.

  “You mean to say there are no real beds in these islands?” he says looking around the room some more.

  “For its entire history the islands of Salatar his been completely aakoku, “closed country” Thirty years ago, if you had washed up on Salatar soil… you would have been beheaded on sight. Now, they let you keep your head… and give you a wooden pillow.” he says and with a nod he lets the servant take him to his own room allowing Byrdi to get used to his own room.

  Byrdi however is not left in his room long which he is thankful for. Not much af
ter being shown his own room Simon comes back this time with Bolvive and gestures for them to follow. He takes them to the Embassy gardens sure that it will be less of a culture shock for them and an better place to talk to them and get to know them. In the pristine grounds of the Embassy, a garden party is in progress. Lilting island tunes are heard from the Salatar band. Byrdi and Bolvive, now in their dress uniforms wander through the party with Simon. Liveried servants pall trays of different finger foods. Elsewhere they see diplomats representing all the powers currently trying to devour the eastern islands:

  “I remember when it was just Denerith and sylvan elves. Now everybody’s getting into the game,” says shaking his head.

  They pass two Dwarven diplomats. The dwarves glance to Byrdi and Bolvive with suspicion, bow tersely. Simon greets them in their native tongue.

  “The Kainith elves are particularly eager,” he says talking a long deep breath; he knows anyone could see that move. The Kainith elves under the rule of Mecmed have always sought to swallow the world.

  “What do they want?” Byrdi says although knowing Mecmed he doesn’t really need an answer.

  “Same thing they have always wanted, to get a foothold and eventually take over. Such is the way of the Kainith elves.” He says and plucks a flower smelling it briefly.

  “How long have you been in the islands?” Byrdi asks calmly smiling; he seems to have a grasp on not only the country but also perhaps the people.

  “Oh, western time quickly loses its meaning here… I first came as part of the legation about twenty years ago. But I was soon relieved of my position, as a result of various disagreements with the Crown’s attitude toward the locals.” he says with pride in his voice.

  Kage entering the garden and seeing his guests smiles and separates himself from his entourage so that he may approach them more easily.

  “Gentlemen. I hope you are enjoying a taste of my home.” he says and smiles at them

  “I’ve done with worse, believe me.” Byrdi says not liking this man, he is slick and cunning, he reminds him strongly of a snake.

  “The Kainith elves have much to offer us, though. Its’ industry and ingenuity are without peer. I have spoken to the Emperor about you. He is interested in the most modem theories of warfare.” Kage says and sticks out his chest in pride that he was able to speak to the emperor personally.

  “I look forward to the opportunity of meeting him someday.” Byrdi says not really phased, he himself was a prince and knows it is only a title; it is the man inside that makes himself great.

  These thought force Byrdi to choke back a tear and visions of all his brothers flash before his eyes. Bear, Nagamasa, Mellyruna, and Attonnan, how he misses them all. They were great men, but they’re names will never be known to anyone but him.

  “You will have that chance sooner than you think. He has requested an audience.” Kage says smiling at them and smiling at the shock of Simon, as he turns open mouthed at these words.

  “Come he will not wait much longer” Kage says and gestures for them to follow.

  Only moments later Byrdi and Patroclus sit with Simon in an ornate carriage as they cross the moat and enter the ancestral palace of the Salatar clans. Once at the gate they are taken out the carriage and quickly ushered through the halls tell the stand outside the thrown room. Byrdi seems calm at the experience but Simon and Patroclus seem nervous.

  “Remember that he is arahitogami. A god in human form. During the last two hundred years no emperor was even seen by commoner. You may look at him, with deference, but do not speak unless you are spoken to.” Simon says letting them both know of the rules of addressing the emperor. They only stand there for a moment or two before the door opens and a servant gestures them in. Simon goes to step forward as well but the servant puts his hand on him and shakes his head. Only Byrdi and Patroclus are allowed in. Quickly Simon explains how they are new to the country and do not only lack the language but how he is also their guide to the customs. Looking at him a little longer the servant removes his hand and nods. Byrdi and Bolvive are surprised to discover the living god is barely in his twenties. The divine emperor Meiji is an intelligent and curious young man, yet there is tentativeness about him. Advisors surround his throne, principal among them is Kage. Nearby, the Kainith elf ambassador Swanbeck a shady diplomat. The throne room itself is sweeping, beautiful, and extremely restrained. Everywhere, tasteful displays of the traditional flower of the monarchy: chrysanthemums. The vibrant yellow blossoms haunt the chamber. As the Emperor considers his guests, Kage whispers into his ear.

  “The Emperor bids you welcome. He wishes you to know that he is most grateful for the assistance your country offers ours, in order to rid us of the brutality of the provincial warlords—and to accomplish the same national harmony which you enjoy in your homeland.” Kage says smiling happy that the emperor chooses to speak through him.

  They then watch The Emperor gesture for Kage to lean forward. Once he does the emperor speaks softly to him and in Salatar, and Kage leans down for a moment to confer with him, and then smiles indulgently:

  “The Emperor is most interested the Lyrandar elf clans, and wishes to know if you have seen them firsthand.” Kage replays the emperor’s message to them all.

  Byrdi is confused and looks over at Simon who nods letting him know that he may speak.

  “I have seen many of them, and have fought them, too. They are very brave.” Byrdi says taking a deep breath. Is this all the emperor cares about, war?

  Simon translates. The Emperor nods and smiles.

  “Thank… you… very… much.” the emperor replies but his common elf is broken still it is understandable.

  He stands. Everyone else hurries to follow suit. The audience is over. Byrdi is actually shocked at all this. He asked one question and then walks off, he would think that he would want more information, plans, but no, he only asked about the Lyrandar elves and then walks off. Immediately Byrdi realizes that this emperor has a lot to learn about things.

  Once the emperor has left the servants bow politely and gesture to the doors. Simon bows as well and begins to walk to them. Soon Patroclus and Byrdi follow suit and walk out for the thrown room. Byrdi soon finds the three of them walking through the gardens once again. He is not surprised, it seems this is one of the favorite spots of Simon.

  “That young pup runs this country?” Patroclus says confused that someone is so young could be in control of all the eastern islands.

  “That “pup” runs the country no more than I do. He was installed, as a figurehead at age twelve when the warlords realized the islands of Salatar needed a central government. But don’t be fooled—he may be a powerless god, but to these people he’s a god nonetheless.” Simon says a bit irritated that this Patroclus still judges by the cover. As the three of them walk through the garden general Yoshi soon approaches them. He is a seasoned soldier in his 40’s. A decent man. He stops before them, bows quickly. He is a Salatar elf with the black skin and white hair, his hair us cut short and his eyes are a blazing red. He also has a white mustache and beard known as a soul patch. It is a simple spot of hair that starts in the middle right below the lower lip and goes to the tip of the chin in a kind of a point.

  “Gentlemen, may I present General Yoshi. He will assist you in training the army.” Simon says with a smile.

  “General.” Byrdi says and then offers his hand to the general.

  Yoshi looks at the hand for a moment but does not take it. Instead he bows his head then speaks a few words in Salatar.

  “He greets you with extreme courtesy and asks if you are ready to meet the Imperial Army.” Simon translates what the general has said.

  Byrdi smiles at this, finally it is time to get to business. He really didn’t want to be here in the first place and the sooner he can get back to the Lyrandar elves the better.

 
The four of them make there way out of the gardens and to the parade grounds there the soldiers are waiting to be inspected. On the way however Patroclus gives his leave and gestures to an approaching Bolvive. About a thousand Salatar soldiers in baggy uniforms are milling around a large parade ground. Each has an old single shot rifle. Rifle so that is what they are calling them. The rods with triggers that the Kainith elves used against him. Rods with triggers and coins that cast spells at the enemy, a wonderful and terrible distance weapon. Byrdi, Bolvive, and Yoshi look down on them from a reviewing stand.

  “Jesus.” Bolvive says shaking his head, the entire soldier seem young and green to him.

  “Ask the General what training they’ve had.” Byrdi says and looks over at Simon.

  Simon nods and turns to Yoshi relaying the message that Byrdi has asked. Seconds later the general replies, but in Salatar.

  “They have trained them not to shoot there… Asses off.” Simon says smiling at the more colorful language.

  Byrdi glances to General Yoshi, who looks back wryly.

  “Sergeant Bolvive, have the men stand to attention.” Byrdi says sure that it is time to let the men know who is in charge.

  “Imperial Army, Atten-tion!” Bolvive shouts out in his classic northern passion and fire.

  Simon smiles and then translates a quite a bit more mildly to the men in there own language.

  “For God’s sake, let’s not keep it a secret who’s in charge here… Mr. Bolvive.” Byrdi says glaring at Simon. He cannot have him cutting his authority.

  “ALL RIGHT YOU SLANTY-EYED LITTLE BASTARDS STAND UP STRAIGHT OR I WILL SHIT-KICK EVERY ONE OF YOU COCKSUCKERS!!” He shouts out in a bellows roar.

  The soldiers immediately stand to attention; we begin a montage of the training of the first Imperial Army. Quickly Bolvive falls into his old habits and begins to drill the men, shouting at his translator. Soon he gets them to march in formation and Byrdi smiles watching nearby. This goes on for the rest for the day, Byrdi and Bolvive both know that they have a lot to do with these men so they will need to train them from sun up to sun down.