by Ono Ekeh
“The Navalese don’t hide,” he said, “they’ll all be in full view.”
She shook her head in disdain at the ambassador and pushed him backward. She raised to fingers and sliced the right in a downward motion—a sign for her soldiers to execute her orders.
By now a thick crowd of silent Sybu had formed around them, witnessing the entire exchange. Increased concern in their eyes, but still no fear. They were passive all right, but certainly courageous. She marched up the stairs and pushed through the outer doors. According to the plans she’d seen, there were three outer courts separated by massive doors and then the inner sanctuary. Not sure what to expect she almost stopped to marvel at way the sunlight hit the walls and bathed the areas with resplendent light. There was a medium-sized tree with a thick twisted trunk, but full clumps of leaves—leaves so green she just wanted to touch them. She pressed on through the second and then the third and finally stepped into the inner sanctuary.
The sanctuary hall was a massive space. Tall, intricately carved pillars stretched up to the converging ceiling. There were no chairs or pews and hundreds of people sat on the floors. There was a train of worshippers with bowls of incense and other offerings down a center aisle. Further down to the right a choir sang a soft chant, with a tenor voice overlaying a melody that resounded through the hall. The interior was lacking the vibrant colors of the exterior. The walls were an ivory color with murals constructed with gold-colored tiles, which, with the sun’s rays, made the hall feel like a glittering treasure box.
Senaya swallowed. Every instinct pressed for her to remove her cap and show respect in the presence of worship. But the sole purpose of the all the conflicts to was to reveal Queen Nouei for the fraud that she was, not reinforce her pretense to deity.
“Captain Tenade!” Ambassador Witcum called in a harsh whisper, between deep breaths as he tried to catch up. “Please don’t do this.”
A few of the worshippers looked their way, but for the most part they ignored the scout force now entering in the rear of the sanctuary.
“Honored guest,” the priest Makri said, “Please let me speak to the Queen. I will tell her you have arrived.”
“Stash all weapons and firearms,” Senary said, tilted her head backward to her force. “Keep your eyes on me. Read the situation and react. Don’t hesitate. Never hesitate.” A series of clicks followed her order. Now, more of the worshippers looked their way. Although, they looked away almost as quickly as they had turned. It meant that they’d been expecting them and had been instructed not to make a scene.
The sanctuary was deep and the farthest reaches were hard to see. But she could see a phalanx of Navalese, well-built, even from this distance. They lined up across the breadth of the sanctuary. The elevated throne was obscured from her sight by a pillar and the line of worshippers. The Navalese guards had no weapons on them from what she could tell. She leaned in to the ambassador. “Are they armed?”
“When the worship rituals begin, they’re required to remove all weapons from the sanctuary. The Sybu refuse to have weapons at their liturgies.”
“What do you think, Captain?” Bentar Mali asked.
“Let’s take a walk,” she said.
Senaya bolted forward in a quick march toward the throne. Both the priest and ambassador said something but she was no longer focused on them. Barging through the double line of worshippers, she pushed her way up the middle, causing the people to spill their wooden bowls with incenses and offerings. But no one complained. And then, as though by unheard command, everyone in line parted and sat. With the unimpeded view, she stood directly in the line of sight of the Queen.
QUEEN NOUEI, THOUGH diminished by distance, sat strong, serene, and erect on her throne. She was too far for Senaya to make out her facial features, but she couldn’t miss the piercing gaze of the Queen. She wore a thick luxurious blue dress which spilled over her knees and over her feet. Lengthy dark braids streaked down, joining long sleeves which hung over the arm rests of the throne.
On both sides of her throne, her Navalese guards stood, legs apart and arms behind their backs, clearly ready to strike in defense of their queen. The entire sanctuary quieted as all eyes rested on Senaya. She straightened herself and proceeded deliberately. Behind her, the cluttered steps of the priest and the ambassador filled the sanctuary, echoing off the walls. Senaya reached out as they rushed past but her hand caught air. She meant to stop Ambassador Witcum. His actions were unbecoming of a Jaru official.
Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she approached the throne. Her fingers itched to hold a weapon—any weapon. She was too exposed. Again, no real plan. The Navalese guards, though still at first, now rocked slightly. Even though they weren’t supposed to bear arms during the worship period, she knew they did, in concealed areas. She twitched her finger outward, a signal to her guys that the guards were likely armed. She looked down across the line of guards and noticed some women interspersed among them. This was rare. Very few non-Navalese had seen Navalese women. Military campaigns were purely a male affair, while training of the young and defense of the homeland was for the women. They were reputed to be heartless beasts who ate their undesirable children—not an ounce of compassion.
Senaya’s eyes lingered on the woman right next to the throne, who met her gaze in return. In those striking brown eyes, she saw determination and impatience—the look of a woman impatient to join the fight and etch her name in glory. Rippling muscular arms against her sides indicated her strength and condition, typical of the Navalese. Her curly hair hung down behind a long neck on which a perfectly sculpted face was situated. If not for their savagery, they were would be universally acknowledged as beautiful humans. As distasteful as the thought was, their practice of infanticide and xenophobia did breed remarkable specimens.
The ambassador and the priest parted as she approached. She’d been so caught up in her tactical assessment that she’d not noticed how close she was to the queen. But here she was, the queen, The Imposter, not a few feet from her. Unaware of her reaction, she realized she’d stopped to gawk at the woman on the marble throne.
Queen Nouei was easily as big as the biggest of the Navalese men. It was impossible to gauge her full height, but it was close to seven feet. She was exquisitely proportioned and even given her size, appeared slender and trim. Her mostly striking feature were her night-black irises, surrounded by cloudy white eyes. Her thick eyebrows arced beautifully over her almond-shaped eyes. Her brown skin sparkled with bronze undertones giving her a muted luminescence. Her peaceful face, though crated with bumps, looked vibrant and inviting. She leaned forward in her throne, her arms gripping the armrests, as though she was fascinated. For a moment, it looked like she meant to stand, but then one of her guards, a woman, pressed her hand down on her shoulder forcing the queen to remain seated, as she, the Naval woman, muttered under her breath.
Senaya looked at the guard, who stared at her with fierce, unforgiving eyes. Senaya knew that her presence, her intrusion into this most holy sanctuary was an unforgiveable slight in the eyes of the Navalese. The Navalese never forgive.
“Queen Nouei,” Ambassador Witcum said, his tone carrying confidently through the sanctuary, “may I present Captain Senaya Le Tenade, a noble representative of my people. She brings good tidings and well wishes. We are—”
“I am here to secure your unconditional surrender and to insist that you renounce your false claims to divinity. There is only one God, Lord Rynae na Haru. Your sacrilege has been tolerated for far too long. Now, you must agree to kneel before the image of our Lord Ryna and pledge fealty to her servants.”
A hush fell on the whole sanctuary. No one moved. Senaya was not sure what to do next. Queen Nouei’s posture remained the same. Seated, but forward-leaning, as though she wanted to stand. Her gaze rested softly on Senaya. Nouei’s eyes weren’t intimidating. There was hurt in those eyes. Why?
“Most Noble Queen,” Ambassador Witcum offered quietly, “perhaps we can move the discussion to
a more private area. I’m sure we can clear up all misunderstandings.”
“Most Noble?” Senaya stared the ambassador, shocked. “Misunderstanding?”
“Captain Tenade, the proper way to have these discussions are in ways that—”
“I am a representative of Commander Skene,” Senaya said, returning her attention to the queen. “You sit there, proud, an imposter.” Turning back to the ambassador, “Obviously, diplomacy has failed to make you see any sense.”
“I am not proud and I will bow before—”
“Silence, my Queen!” The guard next to the queen bellowed. A gasp rang through the hall. Even her fellow Navalese were shocked at her words to her queen.
More importantly to Senaya, what was missed in all this, was that the queen herself spoke. Her voice was like a mild dewfall, light to the ear, yet unmistakable in its presence, its sublimity. What was she about to say? That she would bow? To whom? To what? Was Senaya that close to securing the renouncement of Nouei?
“My Queen... I mean,” Senaya stuttered, frustrated with herself that she’d so quickly fallen into a pattern of honoring the woman in front of her. “Nouei,” she said, aware that the hall had silenced again at her addressing of the queen by her name with no honorific title. “Complete your sentence. You will bow before... whom? What?”
“She will not speak to you,” the queen’s guardswoman said.
“You do not control her. She is your queen.”
“And she is not your queen. She has no obligation to speak to you.”
Senaya climbed one of the six steps to the raised platform with the queen. In response, the Navalese guards, as though instructed by some inaudible voice, took a uniform step closer to the throne. Senaya climbed another step. The Navalese guards all moved a step closer with arms on various parts of their bodies, where they probably had hidden weapons. Senaya considered her options.
“Captain Tenade,” the ambassador spoke softly, “each life is precious, don’t waste lives here over a foolish, impulsive venture.”
Nouei’s eyes rested on Senaya. She then laid her hand on the guardswoman’s to her left and squeezed it. She looked at the woman’s hands as one would the hands of a newborn and caressed it. The woman’s eyes reddened with tears and Senaya understood. There was more here. It was love. This woman saw her life of no account and would gladly give it for the queen. Why?
The Navalese and the Sybu were such a mystery. No one knew why they loved this queen as much as they did, but thousands of Navalese had died in battle for this queen. The Navalese and Sybu, like all human tribes and races, were facing the same fertility challenges. Thus war was always a great travesty. But even given the loses, the human toll of war, it never seemed to cross the minds of the Navalese to reconsider their devotion and sacrifice. But now Senaya was beginning to understand. Yes, they loved this queen, but more so, there was a depth and an unfathomable promise in those eyes. The queen loved them even more and that love drove them to madness.
With a single gaze between Nouei and her guardswoman, Senaya saw what no one could’ve told her because there are no words for it. As devoted as they were to Nouei, she was to them. As much as they loved her, she was desperate for their love and would offer anything for them. Her power over them spoke nothing of coercion, rather, it was power over their wills and desire—that she was the sole object of their desire.
Senaya looked back toward her scout force. These men and women had entrusted themselves to her. She liked to think she was an understanding and kind leader. She loved each one of them. But if she were stripped of rank, if they gave up the hierarchy of their system, would they still obey her? Would they still regard her with such honor? Only to the point that it benefitted them? Would they die for her, over and over again?
The sound of soft whistling behind her filled the hall. It was the priest, Makri. As though on cue, the Sybu all stood and began to sing a solemn hymn. The Navalese dropped their heads in reverence and all stepped back. The patter of footsteps filled Senaya’s ears and about a dozen women ran up the steps to the queen. They all bowed and then surrounded her. Senaya couldn’t tell what was happening, but then they seemed to force the queen to stand.
She was tall—Navalese tall. A towering figure, well over six feet, she stood proudly. The women pulled at her, forcing her to follow them. The queen kept her gaze on Senaya but soon was forced away by her attending women toward an exit in the space behind the throne. The guardswoman who seemed uncommonly close to the queen stared at Senaya, who had no doubt, that if the circumstances had been otherwise, the woman would’ve torn her from limb to limb.
“What’s happening,” Senaya asked the Ambassador.
“Her attendants often take of her when they think she’s agitated. I don’t know what happens back there. Only priests or authorized personnel are allowed.”
Senaya started toward the door, following after the queen.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The guardswoman stepped up into her path.
Senaya looked up into the face of the woman. “I am here as a representative of the Jaru. I have business with that Imposter. I will get a response from her now.” She pushed against the guardswoman, but then found herself flying through the air. Her back smashed against the unyielding marble of the throne and she landed with a snap of the neck. Pain radiated through her body, concentrating in throbbing bursts in her shoulder and back. She groaned at the pain but was gratified with the multitude of clicks she heard.
“Are you okay, Captain?”
She sprang up as quickly as she could. Though unsteady, she straightened by leaning on the shoulder of her friend, Mali. She scanned the area, all her soldiers had their guns trained on the Navalese, whose only weapons were knives. She took a deep breath at the gamble she’d just taken. She knew the Navalese had weapons, but hoped that they respected their queen enough to only have blades and no projectile weapons. The lack of disposable metal and manufacturing capabilities had reduced the quantity and diminished the quality of Navalese firearms. But this close to the queen, Senaya couldn’t be certain the guards didn’t have high-quality weapons.
“You are outnumbered,” Senaya said, ignoring the flashes in her eyes. “Surrender all your weapons. You will be sequestered until trial when the Commander arrives.”
“People, please!” Ambassador Witcum ran stood between the Navalese, who had clumped together which their backs to each other, and the Jaru scout force surrounding them. He turned to Senaya. His eyes raged. “This is not proper. We don’t act this way. Not in a holy place.”
“You’ve lost all sense of perspective,” Senaya said. “I understand. Ten minutes in Nouei’s presence and I already feel the pull. It’s irrational and that’s what frightens me. You’re already far gone—already well absorbed in her charms.”
“Captain Tenade. Please lower your weapons.”
“We have to act quickly before we find ourselves in your position, defending the indefensible.” Senaya walked up to him and studied him. His round face had lost its spark and beads of sweat dotted his balding forehead. She looked up and stared the guardswoman who had hit her who stared back. Senaya let her hand rest on Ambassador Witcum’s neck and her fingers felt around the nape of his neck. Not removing her gaze from her nemesis, she pulled Witcum to her and let her fingers slip down underneath his shirt towards his chest and then she felt it. She tugged hard and ripped out the metal diadem hanging down his neck, his official seal as representative of the Jaru. “You are no longer worthy of this.” She pushed at him and watched him stumble backward.
“You have every right to do what you did,” Witcum said. He rubbed the back of his neck gingerly. “I have never wavered from my commitment to the good of our people. Your actions here have not helped but hurt. I will protest your—”
“I give you the choice. Choose today, whom you will serve, Lord Ryna or Nouei, The Imposter.”
“I serve our Lord,” he said. His voice taking on an edge.
&nbs
p; “And who is your Lord?” She took a step toward him. “Nouei, a false god, or Lord Ryna? Who?” she yelled. Her voice echoed in the hallway over the hundreds of still Sybu who’d been watching the proceedings.
Witcum trembled visibly and then walked slowly to the throne. He knelt and kissed it, letting his lips linger on it before pulling away. He then backed up slowly to the Navalese. “You’ve been here for a few minutes, Captain Tenade, but I know you know the truth. She is my true Lord and can be yours too. She sees it in you which is why she’s so interested in you.” He looked up at the rest of the scout force. “You could all be hers; nourished and loved by her. Just yield.”
Senaya fought to restrain the anger bursting in her. How was it possible to leave the beauty and truth of Lord Ryna, the Blessed One, and adhere to the faith of savages? Yes, Nouei was beautiful, but beauty was not uncommon, why would he throw his life away? “You are infatuated with a beautiful woman. She’s made you feel special, but your errors can be corrected. We’ll bring you home and heal your mind—remind you what you have walked away from.” She reached out her hand and motioned him to join her. She regretted stripping him of rank so publicly, and now to save his honor, he’d made a terrible choice. But her scout force would obey her and no one need breathe word of this to anyone back home. She could bring him back to his senses and return him to the fold. He was much too important to the Jaru to let him walk away.
The guardswoman walked toward her. She stiffened as she watched the woman’s hands curly tightly around her knife’s hilt.
“Stand back!” One of her soldiers called out, much to her relief. She was frozen in place as the woman approached with fleet, cat-like steps. The woman stopped. She looked at the rifle trained on her and then back at Senaya.
“I am Captain Tenade,” Senaya said, in a bid to ease the tension, “what is your name?” She held the woman’s gaze as she assessed her options.
“Vesta.”
Vesta was ten feet from her and would only need a second or so to get at her, if Vesta’s intention was to hurt her. All her soldiers were expert marksmen. Scouts traveled light. Resources were carefully managed, including ammunition, which meant no wasted bullets. She’d trained them hard. One shot, one kill, was what they lived by and she had no doubt, they could get that shot off before Vesta got to her. But what was Vesta’s intention?