The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

  Ana’s head throbbed. She reached back and felt warm stickiness there, along with a sharp pain. “Ahh,” she groaned as she waited for the ache to subside.

  The stone floor was hard against her cheek. She tried pushing herself up again and managed to raise her torso by leaning on her outstretched arms. Looking down, she discovered several soldiers had fallen across her lower body, along with an overturned bench. She shifted her legs but couldn’t extricate herself from their combined weight.

  Where am I? She concentrated on her surroundings. The recital hall . . . Entrelac . . . Astrebril’s fire! Ana’s heart skipped a beat. Mother? Father? Teo?

  She glanced around but couldn’t identify her loved ones. Though she wanted to stand up and look for them, she didn’t have the strength to break free of the weight that pinned her to the floor. Her whole body felt weak and lethargic. All she could do was wait for help.

  The explosive powder had devastated the performance hall. Ana noticed the stage area was completely destroyed. A gaping hole revealed the undercroft below, and the bodies strewn in its vicinity did not stir. Yet many of the spectators had moved toward the vestibule at the rear before the explosion hit. The extra distance made all the difference. Several soldiers were already upright, brushing themselves off or helping their comrades to stand. Ana could see most of the men would survive.

  An ear-splitting crack! drew a collective yelp from the crowd. Ana squealed as the sharp report sounded above. Despite her headache she craned her neck and looked up. A fissure had opened in the stone vaulting. Dust and debris trickled from the cleft, raining pebbles on the horrified spectators. Suddenly the shouts grew urgent as a large piece of masonry broke free from the ceiling. Unable to move, Ana could only hunch her shoulders and hope the stone chunk would miss. But it was directly overhead.

  “Look out!” someone screamed.

  Ana scrunched her eyes and covered her head with her arms.

  Deu! Help me!

  For a split second everything was still. Then . . .

  A dull thud. A clatter of stone. And silence.

  Ana felt no impact, no crushing blow. Heart pounding, she opened her eyes—and shrieked at the top of her lungs.

  “Noooo!”

  Liber lay on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. A pool of blood oozed from beneath his thick black hair at the nape of his neck. His respiration came in labored pants, yet his body did not move. Next to him was the broken masonry that had plunged from the ceiling.

  Ana grabbed his hand, which was limp like a rag doll’s. “Liber!” she cried. “Get up!” But the bearded giant remained still.

  A terrible sense of inevitability settled on Ana. She twisted her body until she could lean over Liber. His eyes fixated on her face, then a tiny smile turned up the corners of his mouth. Ana clutched his hand to her chest. “Oh, Liber,” she moaned, “thank you! Thank you, my dear friend!”

  The injured man’s breathing grew even more shallow. Every inhalation required an effort. Hot tears welled from Ana’s eyes and cascaded onto the face of her strong defender. She brushed them away from his cheeks with her thumb.

  Liber made a raspy sound as his strength began to fail. Is he trying to speak? Ana bent low until her ear was just above his mouth. A series of gurgling words escaped Liber’s lips, each punctuated by a gasp for air.

  “I . . . love . . . you . . . ”

  Ana wept uncontrollably.

  “ . . . Stasia,” he finished, and exhaled his final breath.

  She collapsed on his chest, embracing his wide shoulders, sobbing in her grief and loss. “Why, Deu?” she cried, pounding the floor with her fist. “Why?”

  A pair of boots appeared in front of Ana’s eyes. She rotated her head to see the Warlord looming over her. He stooped and heaved the wooden bench and dead bodies off her legs. Though Ana was grateful to be free, she watched the general closely, uncertain as to his intent.

  The austere soldier did not speak as he unfurled a red and yellow cloth—the tattered flag of the Fifth Regiment. Kneeling next to Liber, he closed the big man’s eyes with two fingers. Then, covering the body with the military standard, the Warlord said, “That was an act worthy of a man of the Fifth.”

  Outside in the streets, a bugle blared.

  It was the Royal Guard’s call to arms.

  Everything around Teo was a confusing swirl of lights and sounds. His ears rang, and his head pounded. A nice-looking fellow with a dark goatee knelt in front of him. Though the man uttered some words, Teo had no idea what he was saying.

  “Teofil! Can you hear me? Wake up, amico!”

  “My inkwell is gone,” Teo answered. He hoped it was the right response.

  A loud splintering noise burst from the ceiling. People screamed, and a commotion broke out. Teo stared around the hall. The performance hall? He began to recognize his surroundings as the intense throbbing in his temples abated. After drawing himself up to one knee, he unsteadily regained his feet. The fog was dissipating from his brain at last.

  “Are you alright?” Marco asked.

  “Yeah,” Teo said, gazing at the floor with his hand on his forehead. “I guess so. What happened?”

  “Someone set off the black powder. It threw you across the room pretty hard.”

  Teo’s head shot up as full clarity returned to him. He gripped Marco’s sleeve. “Where’s Ana?”

  Marco pointed over his shoulder—and then Teo heard a sound that would chill the blood of every Chiveisian soldier.

  The call to arms! Invasion!

  The Royal Guard used bugles to signal many of its daily activities, but one fanfare stood out from the rest. The call to arms meant the Guard was being mobilized for its ultimate purpose: to fend off an attack by outsiders while the civilians fled behind the Citadel’s protective wall. Until now Teo had heard that particular call only in training situations. Today, however, the notes ringing from the streets were no drill.

  Although Teo didn’t know what was happening outside, his first priority was Ana. She stood where Marco had indicated, her face buried against her father’s chest. Helena was there too, along with Vanita. Teo ran up to them.

  “Ana, are you hurt?”

  She shook her head but did not turn away from Stratetix’s embrace. Everyone else appeared to be uninjured as well. Relief filled Teo as he saw his friends had survived the explosion.

  The bugle fanfare sounded again, this time from the direction of the Citadel.

  “What’s happening out there, son?” Stratetix asked.

  “Chiveis has been invaded.”

  “By whom?”

  “I’m about to find out, though I think I already know.” Teo clasped Stratetix’s shoulder and looked the sturdy farmer in the eye. “Guard her well,” he said.

  “With my life,” Stratetix replied.

  Teo ran from the recital hall into the chaotic streets of Entrelac. The hot foehn winds assaulted him as soon as he stepped outside. He saw no soldiers, for the nearby regiments would already have rallied at the Citadel, and the Fifth would be coming in from the frontier. The townsfolk of Entrelac, however, were in an uproar. Dismay was evident on their faces. Though foreigners hadn’t invaded from the Beyond in thirty years, their looming menace was a deep-seated fear of every Chiveisian citizen. Now that menace had actually crossed the line.

  A neighborhood temple of Astrebril stood nearby. It was just a little shrine, yet it possessed the unifying feature of all such temples: a spire. Teo entered and glanced around. The place was deserted, its eunuch priests having fled. He ran to the spiral staircase and ascended the spire, which lifted higher than the surrounding rooftops. The window at the top revealed exactly what he had expected: the Knights of the Cross and the militia of Marsay had made a preemptive strike into Chiveis. Their army had already penetrated deep into the kingdom and would reach Entrelac in a matter of minutes. Thousands of mounted soldiers rode along the southern shore of the Tooner Sea, while others crossed the white-capped lake in hijacked
boats. Either way, they would soon converge on the town, and from there they would march to the Citadel.

  Yet as Teo looked more closely, he realized many of the soldiers did not wear the uniforms or armor of Marsay. He stared at the troops in the lead, trying to identify the men. And then his eyes fell on something remarkable: the soldiers’ shields and standards had been hastily marked with the sign of the cross. Only one explanation presented itself: the Jinevans! Apparently they were newly converted to the religion of Christianism. Now they had joined the Marsayans in coming to Chiveis for war.

  Back in the streets, Teo untied a horse from the hitching rail at the recital hall. With the recent mayhem inside there would be plenty of animals to spare. He mounted the excellent warhorse and headed for the outskirts of town, taking a shortcut he hoped would put him ahead of the man he desperately needed to find. At this point only one person could avert a colossal battle: the Warlord.

  Teo reached the city limits and left Entrelac’s houses and shops behind. Now only a grassy plain lay between him and the Citadel. He stared at the fortress as he galloped toward it, awed by its majestic beauty. It was the beating heart of the kingdom he loved. The great wall stood above a moat that was bridged by a causeway. Towers and spires rose behind the wall, proud banners flying from their pinnacles. The emblem of Chiveis was a white sword against a square field of red. Teo’s heart swelled to see that flag waving over the mighty Citadel. For two years he had wondered if he’d ever see it again. Now here he was, a soldier of the realm returning to his homeland—and he was about to go into battle against the Royal Guard! Teo never thought such a day would come.

  Busy movement was visible in the outsiders’ encampment beneath the fortress wall. Though the Germani didn’t know the exact meaning of the Chiveisian bugle calls, they understood something was amiss. Men scurried back and forth, strapping on their helmets or mounting their horses. Teo spotted a squad of Vulkainian militiamen riding from the Citadel’s gate to the encampment, no doubt to coordinate battle tactics. A threefold army of outsiders, Vulkainians, and Royal Guardsmen would stand against the Marsayan and Jinevan invaders. The winning side would own the future of Chiveis. Yet Teo still hoped the battle could be avoided.

  His searching eyes finally spotted the Warlord’s gray courser on the main road out of Entrelac. Teo angled across the fields on an intersecting route, then reined up a short distance in front of the Warlord. The gusty foehn winds blew against Teo’s back as he blocked the commander of the Royal Guard from entering his capital city. A trumpet fanfare sounded from the Citadel’s ramparts once more, calling all loyal warriors to the defense of Chiveis.

  “General!” Teo cried, holding up his hand. “You must put an end to the madness that has gripped Chiveis!”

  The Warlord’s horse pranced on the road, eager to keep running. Its rider’s face was implacable as he looked at Teo with a flinty glare. “Get out of my way, Captain,” he said.

  “Don’t do this, sir.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Look around! Look at what Chiveis has become! It’s all the priestess’s fault. You know this in your heart. Don’t let the Royal Guard become her tool! We’re supposed to be the protectors of Chiveis, not its oppressors. Throw off the yoke of Astrebril and become what you were intended to be.”

  “What I intend to be is a soldier who does his duty.”

  “General, don’t you see? You must rebel against the High Priestess.”

  “To rebel against her is to rebel against the will of His Highness the king.”

  “King Piair is corrupted! The High Priestess has twisted his mind like she did his father’s. When a ruler becomes a tyrant, the only just action is to resist.”

  The Warlord pointed over Teo’s shoulder. “Look there, Captain.”

  Teo twisted in the saddle to see that the portcullis had been raised in the Citadel’s gate. The double doors had also opened, and now the Royal Guard marched across the causeway in full battle array.

  Teo turned back to the Warlord. The commander stared at Teo with all the authority of his rank behind him. “Draw that sword of yours, Captain Teofil,” he urged. “Rally with me at the Citadel like a soldier of the realm. Our kingdom has been invaded. You hear the call to arms ringing from our walls. Do your duty as a man of the Fifth Regiment! Use that noble weapon for the defense of Chiveis!”

  Teo reached to his waist and slid the sword of Armand from its sheath. He held it high. “That is what I am doing,” he said.

  The Warlord’s eyes narrowed as he drew his own weapon. “Then may your God protect you.”

  He collected the reins so sharply that his spirited courser reared on its hind legs. Kicking his heels, the Warlord darted ahead with his sword raised. The clangor of blades rang out as he swept past Teo on his way to the Citadel. The blow was easy enough to parry, yet the commander of the Chiveisian army had made his point.

  We are enemies.

  Ana knelt next to Liber’s body, mourning the loss of her beloved friend. Vanita was there too, holding Ana’s hand, providing the kind of comfort only another woman can give. Liber’s face was covered by the flag of the Fifth Regiment, whose emblem was a bear. Ana thought that was appropriate, for Liber was a bear of a man: big, shaggy, fierce, and strong.

  Now he was with Deu.

  Though Ana knew this was true, and part of her heart rejoiced in it, another part grieved the appalling waste of life. She turned toward Vanita. “I don’t understand,” she admitted.

  “Me either. But I keep thinking of what Paulus wrote in the Sacred Writing.”

  “What?”

  “That our mortal bodies will be clothed in immortality. The sting of death is swallowed up in victory. I’ve thought about that passage often.”

  Ana sighed deeply, wiping tears from her eyes. “I do believe Iesus has given Liber eternal life. But right now I’m feeling the sting.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Vanita squeezed Ana’s hand. “It hurts, I know.”

  The two women lapsed into silence as they knelt in the decimated hall. A shaft of sunlight poured through the hole in the roof, isolating the mourners on a golden island in a gloomy sea. Ana struggled to accept Liber’s death. She couldn’t make sense of the tragedy. Though the man who was once called defective was now perfect and whole in the arms of Iesus, Ana’s soul cried out for answers.

  Why did he have to die, Deu?

  It was only when she looked up that Ana began to understand. Drawn by an irresistible pull, she raised her head and stared through the jagged hole where the masonry had broken away. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she thought she could make out the form of a bird perched on the edge of the opening. It was an alpine chough, a large bird like a crow that often scavenged the village dumps. The black chough was sacred to Astrebril, for it soared in the sky that the god claimed as his own. Yet even as Ana watched—with her outer eye or her inner, she wasn’t sure—another bird appeared in the sky. It was brownish-white and much smaller, yet plucky. It dived at the chough, driving it away, then came to rest in its place. Cocking its little head, the turtledove gazed down at the woman kneeling on the floor. At last the vision broke as Ana’s eyes could endure the light no longer.

  She dropped her gaze, blinking and shaking her head. Vanita glanced at her. “Are you alright?”

  “I . . . I think so.” Ana paused, then said, “I know why Liber covered me like he did.”

  “He loved you, Anastasia.”

  “Yes. But it was more than that.”

  Vanita was silent.

  Ana grasped the battle flag of the Fifth Regiment and clutched the bloodstained standard to her chest.

  “Deu is going to do great things today,” she said.

  The portcullis was up, the gates were open, and the Royal Guard marched out to war. The First, Third, and Fourth Regiments had rallied to defend the Citadel, while the Second was already in the field, and the Fifth was soon to arrive. Glancing toward the tents off to the side, Teo saw th
at the barbarian warriors had formed into platoons as well, their helmets strapped on, their swords drawn, their pikes bristling like porcupine quills. And if that were not enough, the Vulkainians rode into battle on the wings of the defenders’ formation, wielding their evil pistols whose acid could blind a man in seconds. Taken as a whole, it was a formidable array, one the invading Marsayans and Jinevans would not easily overcome.

  Teo rode his war horse to the vanguard of the invaders’ army. Brother Thomas was at the front of the line, ready to lead his company of knights into battle.

  “Hail, warrior,” the friar called. “At last we shall fight side by side!” Turning in his saddle, he summoned a squire, then pitched Teo a helmet. After Teo had donned it, Brother Thomas gave his head a swat with the flat of his blade. “It’s a good piece. You’ll be needing it today.”

  “Those outsiders will strike a lot harder than that,” Teo observed.

  “We’re about to find out,” Brother Thomas replied.

  The Marsayan and Jinevan soldiers had split into two divisions. Across the grassy plain, the Chiveisian troops had lined up with the wall of the Citadel as their backstop. Teo estimated his own army was perhaps three-fourths the size of the opposing force. Yet nothing could be done about that. Numerical advantage or not, it was time to fight or be killed.

  The young King Piair rode out of the Citadel’s gate on a white destrier. He crossed the moat and pranced around giving orders. A golden crown was upon his brow.

  “Is that your king?” Brother Thomas asked.

  “I’m afraid so. He has good blood in his veins, but he hasn’t lived up to his potential.”

  “Today his line comes to an end,” the friar said. The boast made Teo sad.

  A pair of heralds reined up beside King Piair. Instead of bugles they carried long brass trumpets. At the king’s signal the heralds put their lips to the mouthpieces and sounded the battle charge. The defending army heaved into motion like a bear waking from its sleep. A raucous shout went up, the horsemen kicked their heels, and the army of Chiveis began to canter across the field.