The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

  The next morning Teo knew he was in trouble. His thirst had intensified overnight, making his tongue feel like a wad of cotton stuffed in his mouth. His eyes were dry and scratchy. Though hunger pangs tore at his gut, the raging thirst tormented him even more. He couldn’t stop thinking about water. His whole body was parched. Trapped in the tiny room, he felt frantic and desperate, like a man in the desert with an empty canteen.

  Now on the third day Teo could only lie on his bed and stare out the window. His cracked lips were bleeding. The skin on his hands was shriveled, making his fingers feel like sandpaper. His only comfort was that he didn’t have to get up to use the chamber pot anymore. Periodically he would doze, but his dreams were plagued by strange visions of terrifying monsters. Perhaps they weren’t even dreams, for sometimes the monsters appeared in his room while he was awake. The hallucinations blended into the nightmares to create an endless ordeal.

  The shadows lengthened as the third day wore on. Teo sighed, feeling listless and weak. His heart fluttered, and his respiration was rapid. He tried to picture Ana’s face but couldn’t. The mental clock that had been ticking in his mind since he departed for his mission had begun to slow down. Though Teo initially experienced frustration at his confinement, knowing the window of opportunity for returning to Roma before winter was closing, he now thought it didn’t matter so much. Maybe it would be better to die. Then at least the agonizing thirst would be over. He closed his eyes . . .

  A distant thunderclap yanked Teo from the black void. He stared around the cell, trying to get his bearings. It must have been near dawn, for a little light came through the eastern window.

  Someone jiggled a key in the lock, then the door swung open. Two beefy men hauled Teo from his cot. Manacles connected by a rusty chain were snapped onto his wrists. He did not try to resist the Vulkainians but only shuffled where he was led.

  Teo was forced to trudge up a spiral staircase. Cramps seized his calf muscles, and he stumbled. The guards mocked him, kicking his ribs as he tried to stand. Teo dragged himself to his feet and continued the climb.

  At last he reached the top. An oaken door was opened, and Teo was shoved inside. The circular room had four windows and a table with some implements on it, yet its most prominent feature was the great pit at its center. Smoke rose from it, exiting through a hole in the roof. A chain hung from a pulley on the ceiling. The guards hooked Teo’s handcuffs to an iron bar that dangled from the chain, then cranked a windlass on the wall so that his arms were drawn above his head. The door slammed shut behind him.

  Teo glanced around. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest. Everything was quiet . . . until a silky voice broke the stillness.

  “Welcome home, Captain Teofil.” The words out of the darkness were melodious and enticing. Teo knew who spoke them. He steeled his mind against the wiles of Astrebril’s favorite queen.

  A torch flared on the wall. Teo watched the High Priestess walk over and light a second one. Her movements were sensuous even as she performed this mundane task.

  “You have no right to imprison me,” Teo said.

  The priestess turned away from the wall, gazing at Teo with beguiling eyes. A smile was on her black lips. Because she was backlit by the torch, Teo could see her voluptuous figure through her gauzy robe. He wanted to tear his eyes away but could not.

  “Am I imprisoning you, Teofil? Or have you come here of your own accord?”

  The suggestion seemed reasonable to Teo’s dulled mind. He fought to grasp the truth. “I . . . I chose to come to Chiveis. But you . . . your guards . . . they brought me here. They gave me nothing to drink.”

  “Is that so? Then you must be incredibly thirsty.” The priestess slinked closer. Her expression was mischievous. The dancing torchlight cast an orange glow on her white-painted cheeks. She came on steadily. Teo stared at her, fascinated. She stopped a short distance from him, then held up a carafe. Ruby liquid sparkled inside it.

  “Drink with me,” she whispered.

  Teo shook his head.

  “Do it,” she insisted. “Drink deeply with me.”

  The High Priestess put the carafe to her lips and tipped back her head. Her long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders. She lowered her head and caught Teo’s eye, holding a mouthful of wine in her cheeks. Her lips were pursed. Redness dribbled down her chin. She hurled the bottle into the pit at the center of the room, but the sound of breaking glass never came.

  “Wh-what do you want with me?” Teo felt ashamed that his voice trembled.

  The priestess approached him until their bodies touched. Her hand went to the back of his head. Black fingernails stroked his neck behind his ear, raising gooseflesh. Teo’s heart was beating wildly. The temptress tilted her chin and brought her face close.

  Teo closed his eyes. He turned his head away, but not enough. As the woman’s lips met his, honeyed wine flooded his mouth, moistening his parched tongue. Teo urgently swallowed the liquid, longing for more. But the High Priestess backed away.

  “Let the turning commence,” she said.

  Strange colors flashed and swirled before Teo’s eyes. At the wall a eunuch priest in a white tunic cranked the windlass. Teo felt himself hauled into the air by his wrists. He swung out over the pit, dangling above the abyss. The manacles pinched his flesh without mercy. Pungent smoke wafted around him. Far below, an orange light danced in the darkness. Then the chain began to unwind as Teo descended into the gloom of the nether world.

  A glowing green streak coalesced into a serpent. It stared at Teo with lidless yellow eyes. “Come higher with me,” it hissed, then slithered away.

  Next a hideous, scaly imp appeared. Its sneer was malicious. Reaching out a clawed hand, it grabbed Teo’s ankle. Teo tried to kick it away, but the creature’s claws dug into his skin and would not let go. “My master awaits at the next level,” it said in a raspy voice. “Let us go up to him.”

  Ten more creatures appeared, each larger and scarier than the last. Teo had never felt so afraid. He had faced danger before; he had stared death in the eye. But this was different. The wraiths in this underworld pit were spirits from a different dimension. They berated him, jeered at him, enticed him, tormented him. Teo thrashed as he hung suspended from the iron bar. The rising fumes felt like a suffocating blanket. Nothing would stop the parade of terrors.

  A cold draft seeped from the deep, signaling the arrival of a malevolent presence. Though Teo’s eyes were clenched shut, he could see the apparition in his mind. The rising angel had wings like a bat and a pointed beard. Its tongue lolled between its fangs. A resonant voice spoke from the shadows. “Turn to meeeee,” it droned.

  “No!” Teo cried.

  “You muuuust. It is decreeeed.” The angel’s drawn-out words were thunderous and deadly and very beautiful.

  Teo shook his head. “Never!”

  “My yoke is eeeeasy. My burden is liiiight.”

  “It’s tyranny!”

  “I offer you freeeedom.”

  Teo could not answer.

  “Cooooome, Teofil. Serve meeeeee . . . ”

  The chains rattled. Teo felt himself being raised into the High Priestess’s chamber again. His wrists ached. The eunuch drew Teo to the edge of the pit with a pole, then unhooked his manacles from the iron bar. Teo’s knees sagged as he stared at the floor. The High Priestess took him by the hand and led him to a table next to a window. She picked up a knife.

  “Sign here and the turning will be complete.”

  Her hand flicked across Teo’s chest. Though he felt a hot burn, the pain was sweet and delicious. Blood trickled from the wound, soaking into the military uniform he had taken from the line cabin. The High Priestess dipped a quill into the fresh cut and pressed it into Teo’s hand. He held the feather and gazed at the parchment on the table. In his stupor, the words were illegible.

  “Sign it, Teofil. Sign now and I will give you . . . everything.”

  If I sign, maybe this nightmare will end. Just do it!r />
  Teo’s eyes focused on the words scrawled across the page:

  I give you my heart, and my soul, and my mind, and my strength, O Astrebril my only lord.

  Teo reeled backward. Horror flooded him as he realized what was happening. The evil god was making a claim on his eternal soul. Teo threw back his head and raised a shout to the heavens: “Iesus Christus! I call upon your name!”

  Teo yanked his arms apart and flexed his shoulder muscles. Gritting his teeth, he strained with fierce exertion against the handcuffs that bound his wrists. Suddenly the chain snapped as a rusty link gave way. The abrupt release of tension made light explode in Teo’s brain. He felt as if a bright whiteness had flashed around him.

  The High Priestess snarled and came at Teo with the knife. He caught her hand as she attempted to thrust the blade into his belly. The two opponents stared at each other, locked in a death grip as each struggled for supremacy. Teo was amazed by the priestess’s strength. He had never encountered power like that in a woman before.

  “Get the guards!” she screamed to the eunuch. The terrified servant ran from the room.

  Teo knew he didn’t have much time. Calling on his last reserves of strength, he gave the knife a tremendous heave. The blade shot up, catching the priestess across the cheek as it flew past her head. She screamed and dropped the weapon. Crimson droplets trickled from a slice in her white-painted face.

  “How dare you defile me!” she shrieked.

  The priestess pressed her hand to the cut as she backed away. Crouch­ing low, she eased toward the door. Blood oozed between her fingers. Then, like a wisp of fog caught in a breeze, she slipped from the room.

  Outside it was raining hard. Teo threw open the casement window. Water had gathered in a depression in the stone sill. He thrust his lips into the pool, drinking greedily.

  The door banged open behind him. Teo whirled. Two Vulkainians burst into the room, drawing their acid guns as they charged. Teo snatched the priestess’s knife from the floor and hurled it at the first Vulkainian, burying the blade in his chest. The second man dodged around his fallen partner, but before he could bring his gun to bear Teo stopped his advance with a high kick. The heel of Teo’s boot smashed the Vulkainian’s gun, breaking open its reservoir of sulfuric acid. Teo felt a sting against his calf, but most of the liquid splashed the Vulkainian. The man squealed and stumbled backward, his tunic soaked with the burning fluid. As he flailed and reeled about, his foot stepped back into empty space. For a brief moment Teo saw shock cross the man’s face—then he plunged into the priestess’s pit with a terrified, fading scream.

  More shouts and footsteps echoed up the staircase. Teo couldn’t bar the door against the intruders nor fight them in his weakened condition. To be captured now meant certain death. He glanced around the room. There was only one way out. He ran to the windlass bolted into the wall. Its chain ran over the pulley to the iron bar that dangled above the pit. Teo broke off the pawl that prevented the ratchet gears of the windlass from sliding.

  The Vulkainian militiamen reached the top of the stairs. They wore leather helmets and were more heavily armed than the first two guards. “Kill him now!” shouted the squad’s sergeant. He knelt and aimed his crossbow.

  Sprinting across the room Teo snatched the iron bar without slowing down. The chain clattered as it rolled off the loose windlass behind him. Crossbow bolts whizzed through the air, ricocheting off the walls. And then, with a wild yell, Teo leaped from the window of the High Priestess’s holy spire.

  Rainwater pelted Teo as he plummeted toward the earth. Though he didn’t know the length of the chain, he knew it was going to jerk to a stop at any second. He clenched his fists and determined to hang on no matter what. The chain went taut at the end of Teo’s outstretched arms, yanking him out of his free fall. He kicked his legs wildly to spin around so he could face the spire wall. Its granite face rushed to meet him as he swung toward it like the pendulum of a giant clock. The impact was going to be tremendous; it might even knock him loose. Rather than risk it, Teo released his hold on the iron bar at the last second, letting his momentum carry him through an opening in the wall.

  Teo sailed feetfirst through a window covered by a curtain. He crashed into a flimsy structure that exploded in a profusion of feathers and wood shavings. Birds flew in every direction amid a cacophony of squawks. Teo tumbled across the floor, tangled in the curtain. He shook his head, trying to regain his senses. The rancid smell of bird droppings hung in the air.

  In a corner of the room a skinny scribe cowered with his mouth agape. Teo scrambled up and grabbed the man by the elbow, then shoved him into a closet and wedged a chair under the doorknob. He crossed to the man’s desk. A bowl of gruel was on it, along with a full tankard of ale. Teo gulped down the food and drink, which immediately started cramps roiling in his gut. He gripped his stomach and was about to lurch out the door when something on the desk caught his eye. The scribe had been copying messages onto the tiny slips carried by the homing pigeons. Teo grabbed the document he had noticed, his eyes widening in disbelief as he read:

  Her Eminence the High Priestess, Mediatrix of the Beautiful One; To Vlad the Nine-Fingered, prince of the Germani; Greetings and salutations to you in the name of Astrebril.

  The lord god has revealed his will. Jineve shall be ours before the summer solstice. Return to your people and muster your army. Encamp in the wilderness at the edge of Chiveis next spring. You will be met by the Royal Guard to march against our enemy. All iron and salt-stone captured in Jineve shall be mine. Your spoil in war shall be every woman in the realm. May the blessing of the high god be upon you, my blood-sworn confederate. Farewell.

  Teo staggered from the desk, unable to comprehend what he had just read. An invasion of Jineve by the Chiveisian army! And in cooperation with outsiders! Such a force would be unstoppable, especially if the High Priestess possessed a secret weapon, as Lewth seemed to believe. With Jinevan iron for making swords, and plentiful ingredients to produce Astrebril’s fire, the High Priestess was poised to solidify her power base beyond any chance of resistance. Teo folded the paper and tucked it in his pocket. He needed proof of the High Priestess’s nefarious intent.

  Out in the hall Teo made his way to a staircase and reached the ground floor. The whole temple was in pandemonium. Eunuch priests scurried everywhere. Some of them noticed Teo, but they didn’t have the brass to face him.

  He emerged from the temple and ran to a hitching rail, where he untied the best horse of the bunch. It was long-legged and proud—the kind of horse born to run, then run some more. Teo swung into the saddle and headed for the gate.

  “Hey, stop!” The guard at the gatehouse wasn’t a Vulkainian, just a mean-faced monk in a dirty robe. Teo charged the man, forcing him to dive out of the way.

  Once he was clear of the gate Teo urged his horse into a full gallop. The High Priestess’s temple was situated above the treeline, so the land around it was an alpine pasture. As Teo sped across the meadow in the driving rain he glanced over his shoulder at the granite spire, a symbol of everything he loathed. From this place the priestess had cast her shadow over the kingdom. Fierce anger rose within Teo, an outrage that couldn’t be contained.

  “Deu!” he cried aloud. “Come to Chiveis! Bring your truth to my people—and set a new ruler over this land!”

  As the sailing season came to a close, the ships of Roma returned one by one to the safety of the harbor. The smaller boats were dragged out of the water, and even a few of the larger vessels were dry-docked to undergo major repairs. The rest of the ships were brought deep into the port and tucked into sheltered slips along the river where they would be safe from the winter storms. The sails and rigging were stowed, the bilges were pumped out, and the hulls were caulked as needed. The good weather was about to end, and the people of Roma knew it.

  But Teo wasn’t home.

  Ana browsed the seaside market with Vanita, picking up a wheel of cheese, some bread, a jar of sardines,
and a bottle of the zesty fish sauce called garum. As she ticked off the items on the housemother’s list, her eyes kept roving over the ocean.

  “They’ll come,” Vanita said.

  “What?” Ana’s attention was snapped back to the present by her friend’s remark.

  “I said, ‘They’ll come.’ Marco is a great sailor. Teofil will finish his mission, and they’ll be back any day now.”

  “Oh, right . . . the mission.” Ana gave a little laugh. “So you could read my mind, huh?”

  “It’s not hard when you’re staring at the horizon with puppy-dog eyes.” Vanita squeezed Ana’s forearm. “Don’t worry, I feel the same as you. We’re like two women whose men have gone off to war.”

  “Except nobody’s trying to kill our men,” Ana pointed out.

  “As far as we know.”

  The statement disturbed Ana, but she shook away her troubled thoughts and gave her friend a closer look. Though the chemistry between Vanita and Marco was obvious, Ana had never heard her speak so affectionately about him. She smiled mischievously. “You called Marco your man. Do I sense a romance developing here?”

  Vanita couldn’t suppress a smile, but she kept her eyes down as she examined a jar of honey. “He’s a handsome rogue, that’s for sure.”

  “And he’s clearly attracted to you.”

  “I guess.”

  “What’s taking so long then?”

  Vanita glanced up from the honey with an expression of surprise. She poked Ana’s shoulder. “You’re one to talk!”

  “What do you mean?” Ana felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Teofil and I have made our feelings clear to each other.”

  “Yeah . . . after two years of dithering around!”

  Ana dipped her chin and caught Vanita’s eye. “Maybe I dithered because somebody advised me Teo wasn’t good enough for me.”