by Matt Moss
Regaining control of herself, she stared at him. His eyes began to water, his lips, quivering. “I didn’t know. Lyla, I am so happy for you.”
“It’s Arkin’s,” she said and brought the knife down, tucking it away as she was still dressed from the day before.
“You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” Cain said with all the love in his heart.
His emotion caught her off-guard and she stammered for words. “Thank you,” she said. She breathed, stood tall, and pointed to the door. “You need to go.”
“Come with me.” He held his hand out for her to take it.
“Cain, I’m not going with you. Arkin will return any day and I will march with him and the rest of the people to war. I hope to not see you on the battlefield because the Order will show you no mercy.”
She waited for him to reply, but he looked away. “You still have a chance to redeem yourself. Who’s side are you on?” She offered her hand to him. “Come with us.”
He looked at her offer, then up into her eyes. “This isn’t about me.”
“Oh, really? The way you walk in here and command your presence, I thought it was. I must be mistaken,” she shot back.
“I… don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She shook her head. “If it makes you feel any better, I believe you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
His eyes widened. “Thank you, Lyla. Then you must know that the battle is lost. Don’t forfeit your life and the life of your child on some idealistic notion that you’re doing the right thing.”
She threw her arms out. “Then what is the point of anything? Stand for what you believe in, and fight every damn thing that tries to take it from you. This isn’t about pride or some idealistic notion—it’s about doing what’s right, no matter the cost. I’m sorry that you’ve lost sight of that.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ve lost sight, and so much more than you know.”
“Then join us and regain what you’ve lost.”
“I can’t,” Cain said.
She pointed. “Then there’s the door. It’s time for you to leave.”
He looked down, then walked to the door. “I won’t bother you anymore.” Before leaving, he turned back to her. “Take care of yourself, Lyla. I love you.”
He closed the door upon leaving and Lyla breathed a sigh of a relief. She cradled her stomach and stood alone in the room with her thoughts. Despite it all, she loved Cain, too, and felt sorry for him. Like a brother who lost his way, she wanted to protect him, wanted to pull him back to the family.
Wants are like the wind. They take hold, and steal the mind, but they allude grasp and slip through hands because wants cannot be controlled. They are free and must be treated as such.
If they cannot be obtained, then they must be let go.
Arkin rode into the camp with ten thousand foreigners behind him.
Upon seeing so many mouths to feed, Joko spoke to Torin. “We’re going to need more pigs.”
Busy training the recruits, Lyla saw Arkin out of the corner of her eye. Her heart filled with so much joy that it hurt, and she ran into his arms. He kissed her over and over and held her tight. “I missed you so,” he said. Bending down low, he placed his face to her womb. “And how’s our son?”
“And how do you know that it’s a boy?” she asked, placing a hand on his head. “What if it’s a girl?”
He stood straight and held her at arm’s length. “Then let’s hope she’s got her mother’s looks. Heaven forbid she looks like me.”
She shook her head and kissed his lips.
“This must be Lyla,” Hobba said, walking up to them. He took her hand. “I’ve heard many great things about you.”
“Really?” she said, flattered.
“I am King Hobba.” He gave Arkin a wink. “You are a lucky man.”
“Don’t I know it,” Arkin said and looked back at the tribesmen. Thousands upon thousands either sat in the saddle or stood, awaiting command.
“There are so many of them,” Lyla noted.
Hobba turned to his people with pride. “All of them, ready for war. They are very brave and will fight well.”
“Who’s that?” Lyla asked, and pointed at a tall man that sat upon a black horse in front of the people, dressed in gold silks.
“That’s emperor Xar,” Arkin said. “He’s here to stop Victor, just like the rest of us.”
Torin and Joko walked to meet Hobba. The king’s eyes went wide. “Joko? Is that you?”
“King Hobba, my friend. It is good to see you again.”
“I haven’t seen you in years. Where have you been?” Hobba asked and gave his old friend a hug.
“Oh, here and there. Searching the soul,” Joko replied.
Hobba spoke to the group and pointed at Joko. “This man, one time, got so drunk, he nearly burned down his village in attempt to control fire.” He laughed out loud. “Silly Joko. At the time, he thought he could harness the flames. He learned that fire cannot be controlled.”
Joko grinned and looked to Arkin, who returned the knowing grin.
“I like this guy,” Torin said, and threw a thumb towards Hobba. “Hey, would you like a drink?”
Hobbafrowned. “Arkin gave me something one time that tasted like camel piss. If it’s that, then no.”
Torin laughed and looked to Arkin. “I really like this guy. Come, I’ll share the Order’s finest whiskey—the best thing you’ve ever drank in your life.”
“Bold claim. We shall see,” Hobba said, and walked away with the big man.
“I hope Jamesh didn’t forget to mix his cooks,” Arkin said with humor in his tone.
“Where shall I stay?” Emperor Xar asked, raising his voice to be heard. He frowned at the primitive accommodations. “Is there an extra straw bed to spare for an emperor?”
“A bit loaded, that one,” Lyla stated.
“He’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Arkin walked to the tribesmen and spoke. “Unfortunately for most, we don’t have the resources to give you shelter. It’s just for a couple nights.” He showed his guests where they could make camp. “Xar, Joko will show you where you can stay.” Arkin saw the tired look in all of their eyes.
Joko spoke to Arkin. “It’s okay. My people are used to braving the elements,” Joko noted. “But not this snow. They will hate it as I do.” He met with his people and reunited with friends before showing Xar his quarters. The emperor looked around the primitive camp, a scowl sitting comfortably on his face.
Arkin took Lyla’s hand and guided her away from the others. Alone, he stood in front of her and took her hands. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything. What is it?” she asked.
He looked down at her womb, then up to her eyes. “I want the child to know its grandmother. Promise me that you’ll let my mother be a part of the baby’s life.”
She gawked. “Quit speaking as though you won’t be here to share our child with her yourself.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Arkin, I’m fine with Sarie being in our child’s life—even though she is the Oracle.”
“She’s a good person,” Arkin noted.
Before he could say more in her defense, Lyla spoke. “I know she is because I believe you. And that’s all I need to know. Our child is going to be loved and cherished and taken care of. By both of us. No way you’re leaving us.”
He smiled at her and gave her a kiss. His eyes went to the villagers. “How are they doing?” Arkin asked, nodding towards the trainees who had stopped sparring to stare at the guests.
Lyla looked back at them. “They are ready. So am I.”
“So are you? You’re not going,” Arkin stated.
She took a step back. “Yes, I am. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
He reached for her hand, but she drew it back. “Don’t start, Lyla. You’re carrying my child and I won’t have you fighting. Just knowing you’re out there will cloud my head and I need to remain foc
used.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t plan on being at the front lines, but I am going to fight. I’ve already made preparations to lead the bowmen. Arrows are made and I’ll be giving the command. We’re in this together. All of us.”
Arkin began to protest but saw that it would be no use. “Fine. Stay in the back and promise me that if things go south, you’ll jump on the nearest horse and ride as fast as you can to safety. You hear me? I can’t lose you.”
She held his head between her hands. “You won’t lose me. Now, stop talking about it, and let’s celebrate life and count our blessings.” She stepped towards the tribesmen and waved them into the camp. “Come on, everyone. We’ll make more fires and have some food ready in no time.”
“They’ll drain the supply,” Arkin noted.
She laughed. “Then it will go to good use.” She turned to meet his eye. “The time is now and there’s no turning back. We will win this fight, take our home and our freedom back.”
Arkin grinned at her assurance. “I hope so.”
“Save your hope,” she added. “We won’t need it. Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”
THIRTY-FOUR
The high priest stood in the church and stared down at the alter of stones. He raised his head up to the stained glass and fixed his gaze onto the eye of the Religion. Karn approached with a large group of men, a mule cart in tow. “Your army is ready,” the big man said, his eyes going to the massive, green and black glowing stone.
Victor turned to his commander. “The appointed time has come. Bring the stone.” He walked out of the church and into the bright, morning light. Without Victor’s presence, the stone grew dim and became dull.
Karn gave the command, and the men used levers and rope to haul the massive stone upon the cart. It held the weight and, begrudgingly, the wheels turned as the mule began to tow the load, aided by men who pushed from behind. The cart creaked and cracked, but the carriage didn’t waver. In the streets, in front of the church, Victor met the people. Dressed in a white robe, he tapped his staff on the ground and walked on foot, leading the way to war. Behind him, the cart and his commander was in tow.
And the people devoutly followed.
THIRTY-FIVE
To a place he vowed to never go, Arkin went. He knew it might be his last chance.
Solemnly, he stood over the grave of his father.
Upon hearing of Levi’s death, members of the Order brought Levi’s body to the camp because that is where the Order began—or at least, the concept of the Order—and that’s where members were buried. Paul and King George’s father had conceived the idea founding the Order on a hunting trip in the north, and settled their campsite at this place. That is where the old king wanted to be buried, and so it was. Next to him in a marked grave lie his son, George. To the side, Paul’s body was buried, and Moses beside him. At the front of Paul’s grave was Levi’s.
Arkin shook his head as tears filled his eyes. Anger filled his heart looking over the graves of the men who started all of this. The ideas bred from men long dead had brought war and destruction, power and corruption—the effects of their choices rippling through time and generations.
Sorrow filled his heart because, for the most part, he never knew them. He looked from one tomb to the next, wondering if their acts were for the right reasons. How can one tell the future and know what it may hold based upon decisions made in the present? Deep down, he knew they meant well. They just didn’t know what would be.
His mind flashed to the vision of Lyla dying and the world going up in flames—the stone of sight showing him what would be. He closed his eyes and tears fell upon the hallowed ground. So much hangs in the balance. From one choice to the next, each building upon one another, good or bad, spinning the fabric of fate in a world of men. How many choices does it take to shape a world? One? Ten? A thousand?
How many choices does it take to make it right?
Passion filled his heart because he would right what was wronged in the past.
It only takes one choice.
He knelt down and placed his hand upon the snow. “I love you, father.” Through the tears, he looked up into the sky. “And I’ll see you soon.”
He turned and saw Lucian.
“You got your whole life ahead of you, kid. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Arkin stood, fists clenched, unable to find words.
Lucian took a step towards him and spoke. “I never knew my father. For years, I wondered who he was, or if he was even alive.” The man in black looked down at Levi’s grave, his eyes locking for a moment before turning back up to Arkin. “I am sorry that I killed your father. He was a good man.” He nodded slowly, the faintest sign of emotion showing on his face. “No. Calling him a good man doesn’t do him justice. Your father was the best man I ever knew.”
And you took him from me. Murderer. Coward.
Why did you hate him so much?
Why are you saying this now?
Arkin’s mind reeled with questions, but the words that he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He hated Lucian for what he did, but there was a shred of something that Arkin admired about the man. Maybe it was the fact that Lucian was Levi’s best friend and probably knew Levi better than anyone. And from what time they spent on the road, Lucian didn’t seem all that bad. And he did save them from the Ungaki.
Lucian outstretched his hand, and Arkin reached for the dagger that was strapped to his side out of instinct. When he realized that Lucian was offering peace through a handshake, he relaxed his guard and shook Lucian’s hand.
“I truly am sorry,” Lucian said with a firm grip.
What once roiled inside of Arkin faded away and he looked down at the ground. “I forgive you,” he said.
The words caught Lucian off guard and he cocked his head in wonder, as if he misunderstood the words. Arkin looked up into his eyes. “I forgive you.”
Like a stone for so long, Lucian’s resolve broke. He smiled at Arkin and his eyes filled with tears. He pursed his lips and sharply nodded his thanks.
“I never thanked you for taking me to my mother.”
“She’s an amazing woman. And she loves you more than anything,” Lucian replied and looked up into the sky.
“Have you seen her lately?”
Lucian shook his head. “If Victor saw me anywhere near the capital, I’d be killed on sight.” He cocked his head to the side. “But seeing her is worth it. Especially now that war is on the horizon.”
Arkin searched him. “And when war comes, whose side are you fighting for?”
Lucian thought for a moment, then grinned at Arkin. “See you around, kid.” He turned to leave.
“Wait. When you see my mother, tell her I love her and that I’m sorry.”
Lucian looked back. “What do you have to be sorry for? You’re not to blame for the past.”
“For what’s to come,” Arkin answered.
Lucian stared at Arkin for a moment, then left.
Arkin’s eyes went to his father’s grave one last time before closing, saving the image in his memory.
He walked back to the camp and Lyla met him with a hug. She didn’t speak, knowing there was no need for words. “Is everyone ready?” he asked. She nodded and he looked around at all the faces, each of them awaiting their command. He saw Torin saying goodbye to his aunt Clara and others in the camp doing the same. The tribes all stood ready to leave; those on horseback, their mounts painted for battle.
Arkin helped Lyla atop a horse before mounting one of his own. After giving the camp one last look, he nudged the mare on and led the way to war.
THIRTY-SIX
The war camp was divided into two parts.
The free men of the independent cities didn’t trust the outsiders from the east, despite Arkin and some others vouching for them. And even though they fought on the same side, they kept a safe distance from one another.
“Trust is a hard thing to earn. And most men j
udge with their eyes, not their hearts,” king Hobba noted to Arkin.
“All that matters is that we fight together for the same cause. We can break bread later,” Arkin replied, standing on a cliff that overlooked the camp. Fires burned down below, as the men were unable to sleep on the night of impending war. Arkin knew the feeling all too well, and had spent many sleepless nights as of late. Anticipation of what is to come.
Hobba put the skin to his lips and drank the Order’s whiskey. He belched. “This is much better than the horse piss you drink.”
“Not too much, eh? We need clear heads when we go to battle,” Arkin told him.
Hobba pointed a wavering finger at Arkin. “Perhaps that is not what you need. Have you ever thought that your head gets in the way?” His finger pressed Arkin’s head and shoved it to the side.
Arkin flicked the king’s hand away. Hobba laughed. “You men of the west like to talk like sages and discuss the turnings of the world, but you know nothing about it.” The king laughed to himself and took another drink.
Arkin shook his head at his friend, but also valued his wisdom.
The king had never been wrong in the past.
Night fell and Arkin mingled through the camp, spending time with the men from opposite sides of the world as he passed from one campfire to the next. He made sure to laugh and keep his spirits high, showing the men that he was unafraid, in hopes of building the same confidence in them. Hobba joined him with drink in hand and the two strolled past emperor Xar’s tent.
“Come join us,” Hobba called out.
“He’s asleep, Hobba. Just as we should be. Leave him be.”
Hobba shook the tent. “Come on out, your highness.” He looked to Arkin and stifled a snort as he spoke. “Your highness. Get it? Because he’s so tall.”
The flap flew to the side and Xar stepped out in his loincloth. “Hobba, have you lost your mind? Just because we’re not in our homeland does not mean you can behave this way and treat me like this.”