The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

  “How are you holding up, sir?” a Clansman asked, breathing hard as he passed.

  “By the strength of the god, I’m fine.”

  “Good. It’s just a little farther now. Right over that rise.” The man trudged on.

  The Clan Boss was glad he only had to make this journey twice. Today was merely a scouting trip. He wanted to survey the apparatus that had been erected on the mountainside, and also note the hiding places for Tancred’s soldiers. Tomorrow was the day that mattered—the spring equinox, when light and darkness hung in perfect balance. Then the hungry Mulciber would receive his virgin brides.

  At last the boss reached a place where the ground rose to form a low mound. The lava flowed around it, thick and torpid, its gray skin concealing its red-hot heart. Only a narrow aperture in the lava’s flow gave access to the mound. As the Clan Boss went through the gap and topped the rise, a wave of radiant heat struck him like a fist. The far side of the mound plunged into a ravine filled with a blazing stream of lava. The Clan Boss shielded his face and squinted against the intense glare. It was like staring straight at the sun. The air above the ravine shimmered and roiled in the turbulent heat.

  Tancred walked over, smiling with the same jocular self-confidence he’d had since he was a boy. “Quite a location you picked here,” he quipped as he took his older brother’s arm.

  “Have your men found places to hide?”

  “Right over there,” Tancred replied, pointing. “The ground is craggy on the back side of the mound. It’s a little farther away than I’d like, but close enough.”

  “Good. Now lead me—”

  A sudden tremor shook the earth. Volcanic thunder rumbled as lava exploded from the summit in a violent display of aggression. For several seconds the mountain shivered and quaked. Only Tancred’s support kept the boss from taking a spill. The brothers clung to each other until the fit of rage was spent.

  “You were saying?” Tancred asked when the eruption had settled.

  The Clan Boss steadied himself with his staff. “I started to say, take me to the crane.”

  Tancred helped his brother walk to the precipice where the mound dropped into the ravine. Perched at its lip was a wooden contraption erected by a Clan engineer. It consisted of a windlass whose rope ran along a boom and over a pulley. The whole crane was mounted on a swiveling base. A man on the far side of the ravine could tug a cable to swing the boom out over the river of flame.

  “I believe you’ll find the device to your liking, master,” said the obsequious engineer who had constructed the crane. He was a shifty-eyed fellow with ratlike features. The man repulsed the Clan Boss, though he was undoubtedly good at his work.

  “I see that you’ve geared it,” the boss remarked.

  A smirk lit up the engineer’s face. “Yes, my lord. Look here.” He bent to the windlass and gave it a few turns. “The gears allow for a gradual descent. Such an immersion will prolong the . . . ” Pausing, the engineer searched for the right word. He licked sweat from his upper lip. “Ecstasy,” he finished.

  “Ecstasy, is it?”

  “Oh yes—ecstasy! Death will not come right away. The lava will gradually consume the brides. Their dainty toes . . . their calves . . . their supple thighs . . . ”

  “Enough!” Revulsion mingled with the Clan Boss’s righteous anger. He despised how the perverted engineer was using the holy ceremony to fulfill his twisted needs. The boss turned toward his brother. “Bind him!” he ordered.

  Tancred seized the engineer, whose eyes went wide. The man’s mouth fell open with a look of bewildered terror. “My lord! What’s wrong? Is my device not to your satisfaction?”

  “I don’t know yet,” the Clan Boss replied. “I have to test it first.”

  The three Exterminati caravels put in at the Sessalayan city of Eastport. Though it wasn’t a large settlement, its harbor bustled with a lively energy. Ana was taken straight to a country villa for the night, kept in isolation from the other women. She assumed that was part of her punishment for trying to escape.

  The villa was lavish—a stark contrast to the filth of the caravel’s bilge. Ana had endured a three-day stint in that dark hole, though she was let out a few times to take food and water. Evidently her captors were walking a fine line between harsh punishment and fatal abuse that would deprive their god of a bride.

  The next morning Ana was allowed to wash. The experience was surreal. Ornate fixtures and marble vanities decked out the villa’s expensive bathroom. The servants had prepared a hot bath scented with rosewater as if Ana were an honored guest. At no time did anyone accost her while she rinsed the slime from her body. Her cotton chemise, now a filthy rag, was replaced by an ivory-colored gown. All this would have provided a measure of comfort—except Ana had been down this road before.

  Strangely, though, she was at peace. Ana knew from the shamans’ cruel taunts that something hideous was in the works. There had been much talk of ceremonial nuptials with the local god, a feature common to many pagan religions. Such unions supposedly produced demigods. Ana didn’t know what kind of horrific sacrament was being planned for her and the other Christiani women, but she did know what the one true God had impressed on her heart: help was on the way.

  She examined herself in the mirror. Her face was thin from her meager diet, but considering all she had been through, she thought she was faring rather well. A basket of cosmetics and hairstyling tools lay on the vanity. The idea of primping for some crude pagan ritual disgusted her. Ana touched the basket with the back of her hand and was about to sweep it aside when a different thought occurred to her.

  Do I truly believe Teo is coming?

  She paused and considered it. Though she didn’t know how, Ana believed Deu would protect her, and she had a strong intuition he would do it through Teo. And if I were going to see him after all these months—the man I love, the only man whose affections I desire—how would I act? Ana realized she would dress up for such a momentous reunion. Gazing down at the basket of cosmetics, Ana decided to look her best today, not to please an unclean spirit, but as a symbol of her unwavering faith in Deu’s deliverance.

  When her beauty regimen was finished, Ana returned to the little bedroom down the hall. The servants watched her at all times, though they kept their eyes down and never spoke. Ana knew the raid on the convent had been carried out by the Exterminati, yet the villa seemed to belong to the Clan. Those two groups were cooperating toward some nefarious purpose that Ana didn’t understand.

  The rest of the day passed idly. Ana ate some fruit and cheese for an evening meal. The shadows were long, and the travertine walls bore a salmon-colored tint when a Clansman arrived at Ana’s room. His foreboding presence stood in marked contrast to the peaceful surroundings.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  Ana followed the man to a courtyard. A wagon was there, hitched to a team of mules. It had wooden sides and a roof. Ana climbed in. As she sat down she realized her heart was beating faster than normal. “Help is on the way,” she reminded herself, though her heart continued to race.

  The wagon joined others on a narrow road heading north from the countryside villa. Ana couldn’t tell if the Christiani sisters were riding in the vehicles, though she assumed they were. The journey continued for what seemed like hours, the road growing ever rougher and steeper. Ana peeked between the wagon’s slats and saw she was high on the side of a mountain. Eastport lay in the distance. Beyond it, the sea receded to the horizon.

  “Soon,” she whispered, scanning the roadside to see if any warriors were waiting to ambush the caravan. But the wagon rolled on undisturbed.

  The sky grew dark. Yet something wasn’t right. Ana peered through a crack, trying to discern why the light was so strange. A bonfire seemed to be raging nearby, perhaps part of the bizarre ritual planned for the night. Then the wagon rounded a corner, and Ana realized how wrong she was.

  The road ahead climbed into a blazing inferno. High on the summit, the mounta
in belched forth its guts and let the regurgitation ooze down its slopes. The ground seethed with glowing lava, while the sky danced with an eerie orange light. Ana had never seen anything like it. Fear stole into her heart. She swallowed hard and reached out to steady herself.

  The wagon stopped, and a Clansman ordered her out. When she stepped onto the road the first thing she noticed was the heat. The air was much warmer than it should have been this time of year. Ana knew things were about to grow even hotter.

  A rough hand shoved her toward a trail. Ana began to ascend while looking for a way to escape, but the path dropped off sharply, and the Clan guards were everywhere. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw many other young women being unloaded from the wagons. There was no sign of Vanita in the crowd.

  The path switchbacked up the flaming mountain. Soon Ana was sweating in the oppressive heat. The guards didn’t let her rest, so she kept trudging upward, her terror increasing with each step. No easy prayers were escaping her lips now.

  Without warning, the earth began to convulse as the vent on the summit disgorged its lava with new fury. Ana fell to the ground, the sharp volcanic rocks abrasive against her hands. A sound like thunder rolled down from above. After several more shakes the tremors ceased.

  “Get up,” snarled a Clansman, yanking her by the elbow. “And don’t soil yourself!” He swatted Ana’s hip where dirt had smudged her ivory gown.

  Ana wrenched her arm from the man’s grasp and felt a surge of defiance. “I am not yours to command,” she said evenly. Though the guard’s expression was belligerent, he said nothing more. Ana turned away and continued up the trail.

  The heat began to grow unbearable. Ana longed for a drink to replace the fluids she had lost. Perspiration ran down her cheeks and neck. She put her hand to her chest and wiped sweat from her collarbones. There was nothing she could do about the rivulets that trickled down her belly.

  At last the trail arrived at a craggy hillock. The lava approached very close here. Ana stared at it, mesmerized by the sight of rock so hot it would melt. When the lava wasn’t part of a fast-moving flow, it assumed a dull gray color. Like steel in a blacksmith’s shop, its redness dimmed where it was cooler. Yet a term like cool was meaningless in this context. Ana knew there was nothing cool about the thick sludge with the bubbling, steaming skin.

  “Keep going, bride,” the guard muttered, shoving her along. Ana saw that the lava’s flow nearly encircled the hillock. Only one narrow opening led onto the mound ahead. She had no choice but to ascend.

  As she crested the rise the heat intensified even more, like an oven door thrown wide open. A river of liquid rock cast a bright glow that illumined the whole area. Perched above the river was a strange construction, the purpose of which Ana couldn’t immediately discern.

  Then she realized what it was.

  Deu! No!

  Ana now understood her captors didn’t intend some arcane ritual of pagan religion. Not even an orgy of violation and violence was planned, as horrible as that would be. There could be only one purpose for a crane whose boom would swing over the fiery ravine.

  So this is how Mulciber’s appetite is satisfied!

  Ana shivered and closed her eyes, overcome by the horrific scene before her.

  The rest of the Christiani women were forced onto the hillock. Some of their faces were unfamiliar, which meant convents besides the one at Lido di Ostia had been raided. Ana estimated their number at more than fifty. The sisters clung to each other in a huddled mass. Many of them whimpered, and some even wailed. If Vanita was there, Ana couldn’t see her.

  A new group of Clansmen arrived. Their leader was a middle-aged man, balding and potbellied. He leaned on a staff, sweating profusely in the intense heat. After guzzling a drink from a water barrel, he set aside the dipper and raised his staff high. A hush fell on all the watchers. Even the terrified sisters quieted to hear their fate.

  “Holy Mulciber, I invoke thy aid tonight,” he intoned. “Behold the great gift we bring thee! We have gathered here tonight—”

  A deep, authoritative voice interrupted the proceedings. The words echoed with an evil power that could not be denied. “All kneel,” the voice urged. Then the Iron Shield stepped from the shadows and made himself manifest.

  A horde of shamans dropped to their knees, followed by several of the Clansmen. Many of the sisters did too. The Iron Shield stared hard at the Clan leader, willing him into subjection with his dreadful gaze. For a long moment the man refused to yield. Slowly the Iron Shield raised his arm, extending his palm toward his rival. His hand began to vibrate, and as it did, the Clan leader’s resistance broke. His knees buckled, and he knelt with his head bowed.

  One by one each of the spectators crouched to the earth. Ana clenched her jaw. I will die before I bow to him! Glancing around, she saw one other person had remained standing. The woman wore an elegant gown of green satin. Her hands were on her hips, and she thrust out her chin in defiance. A gust of wind ruffled the woman’s short blonde hair. Ana nodded to her, and Vanita Labella nodded back with a look of unshakable resolve.

  A low growling caused Ana to look away from her friend. The Iron Shield stared at her with the malevolent expression of a demon from hell. His great height made the warrior seem more like a giant than a man. He stalked over, and Ana tasted fear at his approach, for he brought destruction in his steps. She thought he intended to strike her, yet at the last minute he merely offered his palm in a kind of invitation. An irresistible force compelled Ana to touch the man’s outstretched hand. The Iron Shield smiled at this, then seized her wrist and dragged her toward the crane.

  A pack of shamans surrounded Ana and bound her hands to the rope that dangled from the crane’s boom. One of the shamans grasped the crank to the windlass, but the Iron Shield waved him aside. “This one belongs to me,” he declared.

  Terrified, Ana watched as her enemy turned the great wheel. The slack in the rope began to tighten. Ana’s arms were drawn above her head, then the rope went taut, and her feet rose from the ground. Despair overwhelmed her as she swayed at the end of the boom. She struggled and kicked, but that accomplished nothing.

  The Iron Shield gave a sharp whistle. Across the ravine a Clansman signaled that he had heard. He began to haul on a cable. As he drew in the line, the crane’s jib began to swivel over the ravine.

  A dull roar assailed Ana’s ears as the scorching heat engulfed her. She gasped. Such air seemed impossible to breathe. Beneath her feet, the seething river of lava flowed by. It burned with murderous intensity, a viscous orange brew covered with black scabs.

  “Anastasia! Look at me!”

  The Iron Shield stood on the lip of the ravine, sneering, waving good-bye.

  “Beast!” Ana shouted.

  The warrior’s reply was ominous: “There is no God in heaven. This is your end.”

  No!

  Ana thrashed as the rope began to lower her into Mulciber’s gaping maw. Her billowing skirt filled with hot air that seemed to roast her skin. She drew up her legs, desperate to escape the holocaust below. Sweat drenched her body in a losing battle to ward off the relentless heat. The stench of brimstone was all around. Smoke tumbled and swirled, wafting bits of ash in its updrafts. The river of lava glowed like the mouth of a blast furnace. Ana closed her eyes, unable to stand the glare.

  Shouts broke out on the hillock, followed by the clash of arms. “Help me!” Ana cried. Her voice was pitiful and weak.

  The boom began to swing back toward the edge of the ravine. The torrid heat diminished. Ana spun in circles at the end of the rope.

  Her feet touched solid ground.

  Strong arms embraced her.

  Teo had come.

  Teo caught Ana as she collapsed into his arms. Her body was hot to the touch and dripping with sweat.

  “Ana, I’m here! I have you!”

  “Oh, Teo . . . ” She clung to him for support.

  Across the rocky mound, Marco’s pirates and the Knights of
the Cross attacked the shamans. The Clan guards appeared to have fled the scene. Teo spotted the Iron Shield doing ferocious battle with two knights at once. His crushing mace split the shield of one man, sending him flying backward. A kick to the chest of the second knight knocked him to the ground. He turned, saw Teo, and smiled.

  Teo drew the sword of Armand from its sheath, then his battle-ax. “Hide here,” he said to Ana after cutting her loose. She crouched behind the struts of the crane as Teo turned to face his opponent.

  The Iron Shield’s face glistened. Though he wore a chain-mail hauberk, no helmet was on his head. His long hair was drawn tight against the nape of his neck. A flickering light reflected from his glass eye. “At last my great enemy has come,” he said, giving his mace a mighty swing. A long, curved dagger was in his other hand. “It will be a deep pleasure to kill you.”

  Teo eyed his opponent warily. “You think you have what it takes?”

  “I am filled with a legion of spirits!” the Iron Shield roared.

  “And I am filled with the spirit of the living God,” Teo answered, and the battle commenced.

  The mortal enemies fought two-handed, swinging and parrying like men who had everything on the line. The Iron Shield’s mace was a fearsome weapon. To be struck by its blunt head lined with sharp flanges would mean certain death, but Teo parried the blows with his war-ax and forced his opponent to dodge the thrusts of his sword. Yet the Iron Shield’s dagger was razor-sharp, and his reflexes were superhuman. It was all Teo could do to avoid the deadly blade.

  Stepping back, the Iron Shield rose to his full height and panted for breath in the brassy heat. “You fight well, Teofil! I never cease to be impressed. We could have been great allies, you and I.”

  Teo wiped sweat from his eyes. “I would never join you.”

  “That is why you must die.”

  “So you have said—yet here I stand.”