by Wilson Harp
“Let’s run to the gate,” Melius said. He took several steps before he realized Tal wasn’t with him.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you coming? Don’t you want to go?” he asked
“I think I should go back and wait with father,” said Tal. “I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“You want to go back and wait? If Galius sees us at the gate, he’ll let us ride with him in his chariot!”
Tal shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t. It’s his processional and then we would need to run through the crowds to be here for his welcome ceremony.”
Melius frowned as he followed Tal back to the square. A few workers hurried as they made last-minutes preparations, but the crowd was already in full revel. The horns blared from the gates every few minutes and each sounding drove the crowd into a frenzy of excitement.
“I’m glad I didn’t have to send someone to look for you,” Queen Jala said as Tal approached his seat. “You’re the last one to arrive, even Mira has pulled herself away from her suitors to join the family at the table.”
“I know, Mother,” Tal said.
Queen Jala had turned to other conversation by the time her son had spoken.
Meleus sat a full glass of watered wine in front of Tal. “We could’ve stayed a few more minutes,” he whispered. “We would’ve gotten back in plenty of time.”
“I know. I just... my stomach hurts,” Tal said. “Maybe I ate too much this morning.”
Meleus sat behind him and waited. If Tal needed anything, he just had to motion with his hand. When the feast and celebration was over, Meleus would go and eat with the other servants in the kitchen area. Tal would slip him food through the meal, of course, but Meleus would remain quiet and attentive until Tal went to his rooms that night.
Tal’s mind turned to his dream and his stomach twisted again. Everyone celebrated, and yet he knew what would happen. He hoped it was just a dream, his fear had caused him to see things as he slept. And yet, he knew in his heart the dream was true. He wondered how the others celebrating with him would react? Mestor fielded a better army than Azaes. Its troops were better trained and more well-fed. It’s horses stronger, spears longer, and chariots faster. This battle was not a vital affair, for both kingdoms knew Galius would be taking the field today and King Feltro of Azaes would have fielded a green commander himself.
The horn sounded again and the cheers went up. But there was a strangeness to the sound which came from the far gates. Tal cringed as he thought the news of Galius would spread through the city before the celebrants in the square would discover it. The whole of Mestor would mourn before Galius’ death was known to his own family.
A trumpet sounded from behind him, and Tal looked back at the Temple of Balket. The priests had stoked the sacrificial fires high and were preparing the altar. Their trumpets announced the entry of the chariots into the gates of the city, for they had a lookout in the high spire who would watch for the moment.
Tal looked back at the Palace and the great doorway opened. The king stepped onto the top of the wide stairs and threw his arms open. He called for the people and they responded with a cheer for their king.
Tal heard a voice call and looked toward his right, along the far side of the table. There Siande stood by her mother, her face euphoric as she watched the king descend. Tal was shocked to see her here, but if she were old enough to be tutored, she would be old enough to attend the ceremonies.
His eyes went back to his father and then darted for a second back to the temple. This would be the first time she watched the sacrifices. His jaw clenched as he thought of the first time he saw them. He felt sick and wanted to stop it, but he knew those men had to be sacrificed to please the gods. He wondered if she would feel the same, or would she stare in wonder and joy like so many others did.
The king reached the bottom of the stairs and a large roar went up from the crowd. He smiled at his children and kissed Queen Jala on the cheek.
“My son has returned,” he said. “Let us feast in his honor!”
The king sat among the cheers and the feast began in earnest. Tal, though, listened to the wails of sorrow which could just be heard as the servants brought the platters of roasted meats from the cooking pits.
Chapter 3
Tal tensed as the cheers which rang through the city turned to the mournful howls of despair. Those in the square quieted as they sensed the change and there appeared at the edge of the square a soldier. He pushed his way past the last few people who stood between him and the wide opening and threw himself before the royal table.
His helmet and spear had been lost along his frantic run. Tal thought he probably hurled them away as they impeded his frantic and desperate mission. The soldier, out of breath and with a look of panic, shook as he lay before the king.
The wail and sounds of despair grew loud and the guests at the feast whispered dark thoughts as they watched the king motion the servers back to their ovens.
“What is this?” the king asked the soldier. “Why have you rushed in here and left in your wake the sound of a city in sorrow?”
“Your majesty,” the soldier said. His voice cracked from strain and he gasped for breath. “I was at the gate and saw. I was sent to run with the news.”
“What have you seen?”
The soldier stood and then ran out of the way of the sounds behind him. A racket of horses and wheels broke through the wails and cries which now enveloped the city. Chariots burst into view, not hindered by people too slow to move aside. The horse hooves trampled flesh as easily as stone, and the heavy wheels jostled softly over every impediment.
There were three chariots, the last two full of men, but the first chariot had a single driver. It was Galius’s royal chariot, and General Praset drove the horses into the square and turned them in front of the table.
Tal’s eyes filled with tears as he saw what he knew he must. The body of Galius lay in the chariot, his hands across his chest, his helmet and spear by his side.
“No,” cried the king. “This cannot be. Tell me this isn’t so.”
General Praset stepped around the body of the prince and hopped down. He bowed low to the king and spoke in a voice which filled the square.
“Your majesty, there was an accident in battle. I fear than an arrow found its way into the back of our beloved Prince Galius during our initial charge.”
Tal saw his father fall hard into his seat. Several servants moved to help the king, to support him physically or to bring him drink, but were waved away.
“The charge,” the king bellowed as he leapt to his feet. “The charge. Am I to understand that my son was killed by one of his own men? That an arrow blessed by Hondre took my son’s glorious life?”
Praset nodded. “Galius’s plan was brilliant, perfect even. The enemy was destroyed in a single charge, driven from the field at the first clash of chariots. His strategy will give us great victories in the future, though its cost was great. His influence on the way we wage war will be seen in all future battles. He will remain as heroic in death as he was in life.”
“Who did this to my son?”
Praset signaled to one of the chariots which sat at the edge of the square. It moved forward and three men, bound and bloodied, were taken from the back by soldiers.
Their hands were bound before them and chains linked their legs together. The soldiers pushed them to the middle of the square where all stared at them with contempt and hatred.
“These three men all had arrows in their quivers which matched the arrow that took the prince’s life,” the general said.
Tal noticed each man’s beard was caked in blood, and the men looked as though they had been beaten for days. He realized their tongues had been cut out.
“Prepare them for the fires,” King Fa'amuil said. “They are to be sacrificed as traitors.”
Praset motioned to his men and they led away the sacrifices from the square. They would go to the temple by the low gate and be str
ipped and flogged before they were fed into the holy fire. Declared traitors, they would not be given the elixir of Rosta, which would dull their senses and grant them serenity in their last minutes.
Tears flowed down the cheeks of the king, and Tal was surprised to feel his own cheeks soaked as he wiped his eyes clear. All of the guests wept at the elegant praise the Praset bestowed up the fallen prince.
Olitac approached the king and placed his arm around his father. They spoke softly to each other. Tal forced his sight away from the private moment between his father and oldest brother. He didn’t want to look at Galius again, so he looked down the royal table and saw his brothers and sisters in the same shock and mourning as everyone. Queen Jala had Bator’cam in her arms and whispered into his ear. Tracks of tears lined her cheeks, but her eyes were clear and darted from the King to Praset.
“My son, my son,” the king cried.
Olatic motioned for two servants, and they moved the heavy table from in front of the king. The King approached the chariot that displayed his son’s body. Olatic climbed into the chariot and went behind his fallen brother. He cradled Galius’s head and lifted him up for the King to look directly at him.
King Fa'amuil brushed his son’s cold face with his fingers and then sobbed again. A servant carried a large wooden box and set it by the king’s feet, opened it, and stepped back.
Tal watched as his father reached into the box and retrieved a silver crown. It had a leopard’s head on the brow and the band itself was crafted to be the waves of the ocean. It was truly the crown for a prince of Atlantis.
The king placed the coronet on Galius’s head and kissed his son’s cheek.
“Today my son has won a great victory, and Mestor has lost a great leader. We cheer and drink his triumph as we mourn and sorrow our loss.”
All of the assembled people lifted their drinks to the air and cried “Hail Mestor” as one voice.
Tal drank his watered wine as he stared at the crown which sat on his brother’s head. The crown he knew Galius would wear. The crown he knew his father would place upon him. His mother knew it as well, and so too Presat. And the man in the dream.
The king turned and looked at Queen Jala. She hurried to him and embraced him. She whispered words into his ear, and when he nodded, she signaled a priest standing near the steps to the temple. The priest was joined by several acolytes as he walked to the chariot.
The queen guided the king back to his seat as the priests carried the body of the fallen prince up to the temple. Tal shook as he wept. He wished this were just a nightmare, but he knew it was true. He wiped the tears from his eyes again and looked around the square. Most cried, few talked, and no one ate. There would be no feast, today was a day of grief and anguish.
“Come, let us go,” Meleus said in his ear.
Tal turned to see the tear streaked face of his servant.
“Go? Where?”
“To the temple. See?”
Tal noted his brothers and sisters were already halfway up the steps to the temple. He was the only one still seated at the royal table.
“The others cannot ascend before you,” Meleus said. “They wait for you, Prince Taldirun.”
Tal nodded. It would have been blasphemy for those who were not of the royal family to proceed him up to the ceremony.
He stood and Meleus reached to steady him.
“I’m strong,” he said and headed toward the steps.
The fires of Balket soared high into the sky. Tal knew he was too far to feel their heat, but he could sense the anger of the gods in those infernos.
The ancient carved steps which led from the city to the temple were older than even the palace itself. Mestor, the brother of Atlas, the son of Belkat himself, had carved these very steps out of the side of the mountain. The temple was an imitation of the temple which sat atop Mount Atlas just outside the holy city by the same name. The walls of the temple were covered in silver which shone like the moonlight and red copper details told the stories and legends that inspired all Atlanteans. The spires of the temple were polished gold, gleaming bright even in the darkest storms. The temple sat higher than any other structure and its spires could be seen from any place in the city.
Tal heard the crowds behind him on the steps. He knew they followed at a respectful distance, with the members of the court first, the nobles and merchants next, and then the common people of the city. The servants would clean up the square and adorn the palace and the royal apartments with the symbols of grieving.
Galius was laid on a golden table before the altar by the time Tal passed through the columns into the temple itself. A bier made of cypress and cedar was prepared and ready to receive the body of the fallen prince.
High Priest Faldrir emerged from the room behind the altar and approached the king. He intoned a blessing and then sprinkled the body of Galius with water from the holy cistern from beneath the temple.
Tal looked around as the ceremony continued. He had been to many funerals before, but none were as ritualized and profound as a funeral for a member of the royal family. He turned his head a little and saw the sacrifices as they awaited their fate. Their hands were now bound with linen strips and their bodies had been washed and scrubbed. They shook and rolled their eyes, but tried to remain brave and stand still. Their beards had been ripped out of their faces, and small clumps of hair still tufted out from the bloody, mangled jaws they kept shut tight.
“One of those men killed Galius”, Tal reminded himself. “They deserve to die for daring to touch a member of our family. How much more they deserve to burn in the fires and be dragged down to the domain of Ochtur for killing one of us.”
A horn blew from the back of the temple and Tal looked back at the ceremony. Four priests lifted Galius from the golden table and placed him on the bier. The High Priest then turned to the fire which raged behind him and opened the gate. The narrow walkway which led to the pit was covered in copper. The sacrifices would walk the several steps along the blistering walkway before stepping into the inferno which was the wrath of the gods.
Tal had once grabbed a piece of copper which one of the smiths had been working on when he visited the soldier’s practice yard. It had already cooled for a few seconds, but still burned his hand enough to make him cry out. There was no scar left, but he could still remember the pain. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to walk barefoot and naked along copper which glowed from the heat.
The High Priest finished his prayer to Balket and motioned for the prisoners. He cursed each one as they were pushed onto the blistering platform. The first two men raced forward and jumped off the end of the platform, but the third man walked in a measured pace to the end. Instead of jumping, he turned back to the assembled crowd. He wrenched his mouth open, and blood spewed out.
Tal convulsed as he realized the man’s mouth had been sewn shut. The man yelled out what Tal was sure was a curse to the gods. He then stepped backwards off the platform and into the fiery pit.
His screams echoed in the temple, and still longer in Tal’s mind. His sisters and brothers, including Olatic, looked stunned at what they witnessed. The king and queen, however, remained expressionless as the High Priest closed the gate to the pit and intoned one final curse on the souls of those sacrificed.
Tal heard a whimper behind him and looked. The young girl Siande had her face buried in her mother’s skirts. She held onto her mother’s leg and sobbed. Tal had wanted to do the same when he saw his first sacrifice. It was a weakness of his, one his mother despised, but he couldn’t help but imagine what another person experienced.
A horn blew from outside the temple and the priests lifted the bier which held Galius. They left through the narrow door that led down to the sacred grotto. Only the royal family would follow for this ceremony. Tal nodded to Meleus as he took his place behind Bator’cam. While all others were buried in the harbor, members of the royal family were always buried in the sacred grotto. It was there Mestor was guid
ed by Balket and given dominion over this portion of Atlantis.
The steps wound down the steep side of the cliff. Hidden from view by outcroppings of rock and the trees of the temple gardens, the family descended at a slow, careful pace. It was over a hundred steps from the door of the temple down to the narrow strip of rock which provided a place to stand at the edge of the water.
The priests were even slower than the family, and there were times the king had to wait as the priests maneuvered the bier along the tricky and precarious path, but in a short time, all the family were lined up to say their final farewells to Galius.
The sacrifice ceremony was long and intricate, but the actual burial itself was brief and simple. King Fa'amuil went forward and kissed Galius on the lips and cheeks, and Queen Jala did likewise. Olatic, Mira and Bator’cam went forward and kissed his cheeks and hands, and then it was Tal’s turn. He took the steps needed to reach his brother, and placed a kiss on both cheeks and then the hands. The skin was cold and he knew his brother was gone. What was left was simply the meat, sinew and bone which would be taken away by Balket when the tide swept the grotto empty.
After his younger brother and sister had said farewell, the priests waded out into the grotto with the bier until the water reached their shoulders. They then lowered the bier into the water. Tal watched through his tears as Galius was lowered into the water, never to return.
When the priests were done, they left the water without a word and started up the long steps. King Fa'amuil followed and then the rest of the family in order.
Tal’s legs ached by the time they reached the temple. Meleus was there with a cup of wine. This one was not watered, and Tal was sure neither were the cups for his younger siblings.
The royal family left the temple and went to the palace, where the king would soon hear the report of the battle and learn more details of what happened to Galius.