The Sword

by Bryan M. Litfin

  He walked across the yard to the barn. Valent and Sucula had no near relatives, so their property would revert to the government for auction. Since it might take a few days for some bureaucrat to visit, Maurice made sure the ewes had enough water in the trough and adequate fodder. Satisfied that everything was in order, he locked up the chalet, then began walking toward Vingin. The satchel of Shaphan’s scrolls was in his rucksack, and so was Teo’s bearskin cloak, which Maurice had removed from the house.

  When the town bell started to ring, Maurice knew something was wrong. Every Chiveisian village had a shrine to Astrebril on the main square. The architecture was always the same. Like the High Priestess’s temple, the shrines consisted of a central building topped by a spire whose bell signaled holy days and festivals. Maurice knew no religious celebrations were scheduled for the day, so the ringing of the bell could only mean an emergency.

  As he rounded a bend in the trail, he caught sight of gray smoke billowing toward the sky. Instantly he knew what had happened. The foehn winds had a dehydrating effect, causing plants to droop and laundry to dry quickly on the line. They also parched the wooden roofs and haylofts of Chiveis, making them vulnerable to errant sparks. Obviously something in Vingin had caught fire, and now the town was in danger. Maurice hurried down the trail to see how he might help.

  By the time he reached Vingin, a serious blaze had developed. Flames had destroyed an inn and some nearby shops, and the villagers were scrambling to put out the many smaller fires that had spread to other roofs. Their efforts were disorganized. Men scurried back and forth with buckets, lacking coordination. Maurice ran to the fountain on the town square and stood on its rim.

  “Over here, men!” he cried. “Form a line! That’s it!” The townspeople obeyed Maurice’s commands as he arranged a bucket brigade. He ordered ladders to be thrown against certain buildings that could create a buffer around the conflagration. “Wet the roofs! Soak them well! Extinguish every spark!”

  For a time Maurice thought his plan might be working, but as the day wore on, the relentless fire began to get the upper hand. One by one the buildings of Vingin ignited as the winds roared down the valley and carried sparks over the buffer. The townspeople couldn’t hold back the orange flames that spread from house to house. In the confusion, looters began to pillage the burning shops while mothers ran through the streets, clutching their wailing babies. Everyone was shouting in terror and despair.

  Standing on the fountain in the town square, Maurice watched the situation become increasingly dire. Smoke clogged his lungs, and the waves of intense heat felt like a smith’s furnace, almost too much for a man to endure. He wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes and looked around. A fiery wall was closing in on the heroic bucket brigade, threatening to surround them and cut off escape. If the people didn’t get out now, they would be consumed along with everything else. Vingin had become a blazing death trap. The town was lost.

  “It’s no use, men! The fire has overtaken us! Leave now, before it’s too late!” Some dropped their buckets and ran, but others held their ground. Maurice was still urging the men to flee when a eunuch priest of Astrebril and four Vulkainians galloped into the square.

  “Attention, everyone!” the priest yelled. “You will not abandon your posts! Your duty lies here! Follow me!” He drew some of the remaining men toward the shrine of Astrebril.

  The shrine was constructed of stone, though its roof was made of wood. Thanks to the efforts of the Astrebrilian monks who had concentrated their firefighting efforts at one spot, the main building hadn’t ignited. Nevertheless, Maurice could see it was only a matter of time. A wall of flame encircled the structure, and some of its outbuildings were already ablaze. Any effort to protect the shrine would only result in further loss of life. The building stood in the middle of an inferno; it couldn’t be saved.

  Shouting from the back of his horse, the priest ordered the men to send their buckets toward the shrine. “Astrebril commands you to stay! He’ll curse you if you leave! Faster! Keep them coming!”

  “No! Stop, men!” Maurice waved his hands vigorously. “The shrine is lost! Get out of the village now, before the forest catches fire too!”

  A Vulkainian pointed his acid spray gun at Maurice. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “The only one speaking reason right now!”

  The Astrebrilian priest rode up to Maurice and eyed him from the saddle. “Grab a bucket, professor. You’re no longer in charge.”

  “If these men stay here, they’ll die.”

  “The lives of peasants do not concern me. If they must be expended to save the shrine of the god, so be it.”

  Maurice regarded the priest with a cold stare. The man’s cheeks were streaked with soot, and the flames flickered across his face, putting an evil glint in his eyes. Behind him, the men of the realm toiled in the deadly heat, hauling buckets in a futile attempt to save a doomed building. It wasn’t water they were pouring on the fire. It was their own souls.

  Maurice straightened his shoulders and stood tall on the rim of the fountain. A sense of peace settled onto him, the serene and confident knowledge that now was the time for action. With utter clarity, he realized he stood at a turning point in the history of Chiveis. Deu had appointed him for this very hour. Maurice could feel divine power coursing through his veins. He raised his arms, drawing the crowd to himself. Then, opening his mouth, he began to speak.

  “Men of Vingin and all who dwell in Chiveis, let this be known to you, and give ear to my words! A new God has been discovered in our realm—not one to be feared, but one to be loved! His name is Deu, and he alone is God. The gods of Chiveis are false idols. Don’t waste your lives for them! Deu would have you live!”

  The Astrebrilian priest’s ruddy face took on an impossible shade of red. He clenched his fists and bared his teeth; for a moment he looked like he would explode. “Seize that man!” he screamed.

  The Vulkainians advanced toward Maurice, but he turned and leaped onto the fountain’s upper basin, standing ankle deep in the water. The Vulkainian sergeant pointed his spray gun at him. “Get down from there, or I’ll melt your face,” he snarled.

  Maurice was staring at the four militiamen circled below him, wondering how he was going to get out of the situation, when the priest of Astrebril said something unexpected: “Lower your weapons, men. Let the professor speak.”

  The surprising statement made Maurice glance up, and he saw the reason for the abrupt change. Teo was there on horseback, his sword at the priest’s throat. Anastasia was behind him in the saddle. Maurice smiled to himself. Deu, give us courage!

  A crowd had gathered, and Maurice addressed them boldly. “People of Chiveis, today I bear witness that the one true God has come to our land! Deu is the Creator of all we see! Long ago he was worshiped by the Ancients! Now the words of his holy book have come to us as well!” He gestured toward the rucksack lying at the base of the fountain. Ana slid from the horse’s back and darted to it. Removing a scroll, she raised it above her head. The crowd pressed close to see.

  A crash on the far side of the town square sent a cloud of ash and sparks billowing into the sky. The roof of Astrebril’s shrine had finally caught fire, and now it had collapsed. Every street leading away from the square except one was blocked by flames and burning debris. Maurice clambered down from the fountain and began to move toward the remaining escape route.

  “Follow me!” he cried. “We’ll shelter at the hay barn by the southern brook! Bring your families, and hang on to your buckets—we’ll need them!”

  While Teo kept the Vulkainians at bay, Maurice and Ana fled the burning village with a horde of desperate townspeople. Portions of the surrounding forest had now caught fire, and the flames were spreading from tree to tree. Ana supported Maurice as they fought their way through the choking smoke and swirling ash.

  As the barn came into view, Teo galloped up to his friends and dismounted to walk alongside. Though Maurice was exhausted, he
found the strength for a friendly gibe. “Well, you certainly waited until the last minute to show up back there!” He smiled, gripping Teo’s shoulder affectionately. “But thanks for getting me out of danger.”

  Teo glanced at Maurice with a grim expression. “I think the danger has just begun.”

  The fire raged around the barn through the afternoon and into the evening. A new bucket brigade was formed, and for many hours the villagers transported water from the nearby brook to the barn’s thatched roof. Even the children helped the firefighting effort by stamping out the little blazes that arose wherever sparks fell. The area near the barn was a patchwork of singed grass.

  From the rooftop, Teo examined the damp thatch, scanning for places that could use more water or pouring buckets onto the bright orange embers that floated into the straw. His body ached with fatigue, and the hard work made him thirsty. He took a swig from the bucket and splashed water on his face. Down below, Ana stood knee deep in the brook with her skirt bound around her thighs, filling bucket after bucket.

  Vingin was a charred ruin, and much of the surrounding forest was still ablaze. Teo looked at the slope where Valent and Sucula’s house lay. Fire had engulfed the area, and he knew nothing would remain there except a few blackened tree trunks and perhaps the chalet’s chimney. Teo took comfort in knowing that with all the deaths this day had seen, the authorities wouldn’t have time to investigate a crime of passion and self-defense. The memory of Valent and Sucula would simply perish like everything else in the fire’s path. A pang of guilt stabbed his heart, but he reminded himself of Ana’s priestly sacrifice. Deu must be a gracious God if he can forgive a murderer like me, he thought.

  As night approached, rain began to fall in heavy drops. Wisps of steam rose over the sizzling landscape, emitting a smoky, wet smell. The soot-blackened villagers staggered into the barn. A few had brought food, and Teo was gratified to see them pass it around, sharing it like brothers and sisters united by tragedy. Maurice climbed onto a tool chest and offered a prayer of thanksgiving to Deu. The people murmured among themselves at the idea of a new God. Some of the men approached Maurice afterward, and Teo watched his animated mentor talk with them and read passages from the holy scrolls.

  When the meal was finished, the exhausted villagers fell asleep wherever they collapsed in the hay. A few babies cried against their mothers’ bosoms, but soon they became quiet, and the barn grew still.

  A woman’s slim body slipped into Teo’s arms, leaning against him for support. “I can hardly stand up,” Ana whispered.

  He hugged her tightly and stroked her back with his palm, then took her by the hand. “Come with me. If you can find a little more strength, I know a good place to sleep.” He led her to the hayloft ladder and sent her up first, following close behind. The hay was thick in the loft, and they found a place in the corner to lie down. Ana moved close to Teo, cradling her head on his shoulder. In all their nights in the Beyond, they had never actually slept as close as they were now. A certain distance had seemed appropriate then, but tonight it was more fitting that they should draw comfort from one another in this way. Teo felt Ana was where she was supposed to be. Her breathing became regular as she lay next to him, and very soon so did his.

  “The old man said what?” The High Priestess grabbed the Astrebrilian priest by the robe and yanked his soot-streaked face to hers.

  The priest blanched. “Uh, Your Eminence, he said the ‘one true God’ had come to Chiveis, the Creator worshipped by the Ancients. ‘Deu,’ the man called him. We’re supposed to love him. A holy book has been found. And it wasn’t just the old professor saying it. A guardsman of the Fifth Regiment was helping him. There was also a beautiful peasant woman with them. That’s all I know.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “I’ve told you all I can remember.”

  “Then listen to me.” The High Priestess drilled the eunuch priest with her stare and poked him in the chest. “If you ever mention this again, your life will be forfeit. Am I understood?”

  “Yes,” he peeped.

  She released him. “Now get out.” The priest nodded and scuttled off.

  Grinding her teeth, the High Priestess turned toward Princess Habiloho. “It seems we have a problem.”

  “I heard the man. A superstition of the Ancients has resurfaced in the realm.” Habiloho waved her hand. “I’m sure we can stamp it out. Vingin is destroyed. The people are scared. They fear Astrebril’s continued wrath. Perhaps another town will burn while the hot winds blow.”

  The High Priestess stalked to her window and looked into the darkness. Earlier that day her servants had secretly lit fires in Vingin. There was nothing like the capricious act of an angry god to make the people afraid. All afternoon she had watched the smoke billowing from behind the ridge where the village lay burning. Now the orange glow in the sky had been extinguished by the rain.

  “The flames consumed what Astrebril wished and then died out,” she said. The High Priestess turned around and faced Habiloho. “Unfortunately, this superstition of the Ancients won’t die out the same way. It’s tenacious and must be suppressed with all our means.”

  “The people have lots of superstitions and cults. What’s so bad about this one?”

  “The god of the Ancients is my mortal foe,” the High Priestess answered. “He claims to be the only god. He won’t let Astrebril have any glory. I curse his very name.” She spat on the floor. Crush him, Astrebril my lord!

  Habiloho gulped. “He sounds very wicked.”

  “He is.” The High Priestess put her arm around Habiloho’s shoulders in a conspiratorial way. “You must acquaint yourself with the Enemy if you’re to assume your place at my side. After you’re initiated tomorrow, I’ll give you his book to read. You must learn his ways so you can know exactly how to combat him.”

  “We’ll never let him return to Chiveis,” Habiloho vowed.

  “Never!”

  “What about the professor? He’s out there spreading heresies. I know who he is. His name is Maurice the Wise. He’s Captain Teofil’s mentor.”

  “Yes, I know. It doesn’t surprise me those two are involved in all this. And no doubt the third accomplice is that girl the captain plucked from the Beyond. She’s proving quite difficult to eliminate.”

  “I don’t know what Teofil sees in her,” Habiloho muttered.

  The High Priestess licked her lips and chuckled as she looked at the princess. “Rest assured, my young acolyte. You’re about to get more revenge than you can possibly know what to do with.”

  “It’s about time.” Habiloho’s voice was bitter.

  “I’ve ordered a squad of Vulkainian militiamen to arrest those three. We’ll see if their newfound faith can withstand my favorite kind of dissuasion—pain.”

  Habiloho glanced up. “Torture? Why?”

  “To break them. If you can’t seduce them to your side, you have to force them into submission. One way or the other, the people must see them deny what they have embraced, or the heresy will keep spreading. The name of Deu is out in the open now. These three troublemakers will publicly recant their faith in him or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  “Or else I’ll put them to death.”

  Habiloho recoiled. “They’re not your clergy—they’re citizens of the realm! Can you get away with that?”

  The High Priestess approached the red-haired princess and stared at her, relishing the girl’s full, black lips and darkly painted eyes. She was beautiful, and would be a useful assistant. The High Priestess sneered. “Watch me,” she said.

  “Out of my way!” The harsh voice woke Ana from her sleep. Where am I? She blinked her eyes, trying to get her bearings. Bright morning sunlight shone through the wall slats. The fire. The barn. The hayloft. She sat up. Teo was peering over the edge to the floor below, his sword in his hand. She crawled to his side.

  A high-ranking priest of Astrebril and a squad of fifteen Vulkainian militiamen were terrorizing the fr
ightened crowd. One of the villagers accidentally obstructed a Vulkainian, who punished him with a squirt of oily liquid from a spray gun. The victim clutched his forearm and yelped.

  The priest seized Maurice by the wrist. “Maurice the Wise, you are hereby placed under arrest for heresy to be remanded to Her Eminence the High Priestess!”

  In the hayloft, Teo started to move toward the ladder, but Ana grabbed his jerkin. “No, wait!” she whispered. “You can’t fight that many! They’ll end up taking you, too!”

  “I have to help Maurice!”

  “The best way to help him is to stay free. They have the upper hand right now. Wait for the right time, like you did with me at the outsiders’ hall!”

  The Vulkainians grabbed some of the villagers, shaking them by the garments and waving spray guns in their faces. “Where are the others?” they demanded. The terrified peasants pointed with trembling fingers to the loft, and the Vulkainians followed with their eyes. Teo and Ana ducked into the hay, but it was too late. The men shouted and ran to the base of the ladder.

  Ana glanced at Teo. He winked at her, then scrambled to his feet. Kicking the top of the ladder where it was nailed to the loft, he broke it loose and sent it flying backward amid curses from the men already on its rungs. At the back of the loft, he threw open the external door. A rope dangled from a block-and-tackle system intended for hoisting hay. Teo reached for it, but the rope hung beyond his grasp. He leaned toward Ana with a grin. “You trust me, right?”

  She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “Oh, no, not again.”

  “Climb on my back! Quick!” He turned around. Ana snatched the saddlebag containing the Sacred Writing, then leaped onto Teo’s broad back, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him around the neck.

  A man’s voice shouted behind her. The ladder had been repositioned against the loft, and a Vulkainian’s head now poked over the top. “Halt where you are!” he ordered.