Perdition's Rest

by J. C. Placeres

  When Rordun and Guorn were out of ear shot Sielan turned to Thelais and cursed in frustration. "Aun damn it all, we've got to do something fast."

  Thelais nodded in agreement with her friend's statement. “We have to get word back to the Aun City now. Clearly this is not an isolated incident. Odds are, even as we speak, there are runners from most villages around the Red Empire headed to Aun City. When they all descend en masse on the capital word will spread like wildfire. Even now there must be citizens in Aun City who haven’t reincarnated. Aun all mighty what are we going to do?”

  Sielan closed her eyes and let out a long deep breath. “Ok, here’s what we do. I will head west to investigate Briny Watch. You and the soldiers head back to Aun City as fast as you can to deliver the news.”

  Thelais continued nodding in affirmation of Sielan's statements. “Yes, I think that’s best as well. I’ll get Rordun and we’ll leave right now. Will you be alright getting to this Briny Watch alone?”

  “Thelais you should know me better than that. I know everything about the Red Empire including the seaside town of Briny Watch. I was just there on an excavation three hundred and forty-one years ago. Plus, if it makes you feel any better," said Sielan with a grin on her face, "Briny Watch is nowhere near as filthy as Bleak Water."

  CHAPTER 3

  Whence Glory Comes

  Lorne reached down and with a strong grip, took firm hold of the goat’s neck. With his other hand he drew an ornate dagger from his belt, the hilt of the blade coated in rubies. He thrust the dagger into the carotid artery in the goat’s neck and ripped a gash across the animal’s throat. The beast struggled as blood poured out of its neck into a bowl beneath, but Lorne held fast refusing to let the dying creature get away. After a few moments, the struggles began to lessen and finally it went limp, blood still dripping out of the gaping hole in its throat.

  One of Lorne’s officers came up to the platform and dragged the dead beast away, a trail of blood following the carcass out the door. Another officer came forward and handed Lorne a towel to wipe his hands of the animal’s blood. Miraculously not a drop of the red liquid had landed on his clothing which was a red and yellow ensemble of the finest silk to be found in the land. Emblazoned on his shirt over his heart was the sigil of the Red Empire, Aun with blood dripping from him. Lorne’s skin was a rarity amongst the Phlebos. While it wasn’t uncommon for Phlebos skin to slightly change hue, Lorne’s was in near constant fluctuation. Even as he stood on stage his skin was slowly shifting between bright yellow and orange. His head was shaven save for a top knot of bright red hair. On his mostly hairless head lay a golden crown which depicted the Phlebos crawling out of Juxon’s boiling blood.

  While rumored to not be as tall and large as Gunvold, Lorne was tall by Vesnian standards and had a good inch or two on everyone he met. Lorne was the high commander of the Phlebos military, his authority was unquestioned, and he answered to no one save Empress Mielor. While both he and his wife Thelais were favored by Mielor, the empress had a special place in her heart for Lorne. All Vesnians were religious and devoted to the Three, but Lorne was something else entirely. Lorne believed completely and without question in the will of the Three. He did not believe in free will which was something nearly all Vesnians accepted. Lorne believed that every single act he or anyone else committed had been predetermined by the Three at the exact moment of the Vesnian's creation. If he won a battle, it was because the Three willed it to be. If he woke up early one morning, it was because the Three had willed it. He believed completely and without any doubt that the Three controlled every single action he or any other Vesnian committed.

  Most Phlebos considered Lorne’s beliefs irrational, but none could question his devotion to the Red Empire, Empress Mielor or the Three. In Aunia, Mielor was more than just the empress, she was chosen to rule because she was the head of the Blood Church. Phlebos society was a theocracy in everything but name. Mielor was head of both church and state and all the advisors that helped her run the Red Empire were the highest priests in the Blood Church. Thus, in the early formative years of Phlebos society, Mielor had chosen one of her most steadfast supporters in Lorne to become high commander of the Red Army. Whereas the Tormos militias was very informal in its hierarchy of champions, the Phlebos military was extremely strict with a rigid system. The empire was divided into three sections: the western flank, the eastern flank and the blood flows. Reigning over each section was a commander who had subordinate officers under him. Each section had permanently stationed troops, however Lorne was effectively a mobile commander and most of the military followed him around the empire ensuring the undead were kept suppressed. Under Lorne were three generals who controlled the three key aspects of the mobile Red Army: infantry, cavalry and archers.

  Lorne turned to the men standing before him, each one an officer in the Red Army. Today’s gathering and ceremony took place in a small wooden church. Outside the window-less building Lorne could hear his soldiers shouting as wagons constantly moved along the cobbled roads carrying supplies and men. For a week, Lorne and a large portion of the Red Army had been quartered in this large city on the eastern side of Aunia. The city named Hope’s Bastion acted as a gateway to the wild forests along the coast. Whereas most villages were lightly defended, Hope’s Bastion was completely encircled with ten-foot-high brick walls and had a permanently stationed unit of soldiers who manned the perimeter and kept peace in the city. Hope’s Bastion was vitally important to the Red Empire because it acted as a jumping off point for expeditions into the coastal forests. The vast woodland which abruptly began a mere half a mile from the gates of Hope’s Bastion had been host to an untold number of Phlebos deaths, for within the forest lurked numerous caves leading deep into Nualn. The forest was the last wild and unprotected expanse of land in Aunia, the one bit of land still claimed by the undead.

  For hundreds of years Lorne had been leading expeditions into the Singing Forest, named such because of the sound of crashing waves against the coast which butted up against a large swath of the woodlands. Yet despite all the expeditions he had led, the undead continued to pour forth. Lorne had long ago rejected the idea to close all the holes from which the vile creatures poured forth as the Tormos had done; he viewed such an action as one of cowardice. Aunia was his land and every inch of it belonged to the Phlebos. He would not yield one grain of dirt to the undead horde even if he had to continue fighting for another ten thousand years. His goal was the removal of every last vestige of the human race from his holy lands.

  An officer appeared from the back room of the church and handed Lorne a burning torch. As Lorne gazed out upon his officers, a bloodied blade in one hand and a torch in the other, he spoke loudly and firmly.

  “Let us give thanks to the Three on this blessed day. Let us pray fervently in their name that they may shed their warmth and love on us and protect us in the cold of Nua. The scriptures tell us that, so loved were we that Juxon, blessed be he, sacrificed himself so that we may live. We, the inheritors of his kingdom, must strive to earn glory in his name. To honor his sacrifice and to appease the grieving of the Three, we give this blood back to them.”

  Lorne lowered the torch and dipped it into the blood extinguishing the flame. The high commander bowed his head and closed his eyes, in the process seeing all those before him likewise bow their head. The high commander cleared his throat and calmly and methodically recited the psalm he always said before he and his men were about to head into battle.

  "He who dwells within the guard of the Three / will abide in the shadow of the Three / the Three shall be our refuge and our fortress / the Three are in whom we trust / for they will deliver us from the snare of the vile / and from the deadly terrors / they will cover us in their blessings / and under their wings we will find refuge / our faithfulness is our shield and armor / we will not fear the darkness of Nua / nor the arrow that flies by Aun / nor the terrors that stalk in the darkness / nor the death that wastes our weakened form / a
thousand may fall at our side / ten thousand at our right hand / but it will not come near us / we will only look with our eyes / and see the recompense of the corrupted / because we have made the Three our dwelling place / the Three who are our refuge / no evil shall be allowed to befall us / no death shall come near our soul / for the Three have command over us / to guard us in all our ways / on their hands they will lift us up / lest we strike our foot against doubt / we will tread on the wolf and the bear / because he who holds to the Three in love shall be delivered / the Three shall protect them because they know their name / when the Three calls to us all / we shall answer them / we all will be with them in our end / and in turn we will rescue and honor them / with immortal life we shall satisfy them / and they will show us salvation."

  Lorne raised his head and glanced to all his officers who were likewise raising their heads. With a faint smile on his face Lorne gazed out to his underlings. "Amen," said the high commander to all those in attendance.

  “Amen,” repeated the officers.

  * * *

  “They still have a semblance of life, it is quite ironic I think,” spoke Lorne standing on top of a guard tower just inside the walls of Hope’s Bastion. “They line up in ranks as if they want to have order and discipline, but they are too far gone, lost to the ways of the Three.”

  Jorlan spoke up from behind him, “I sometimes find it hard to believe that a race as savage and evil as humans were created by the Three.”

  “Do not doubt the scriptures Jorlan, for they are the absolute word of the Three. While to us the humans appear animalistic and corrupt, the Three do everything for a reason. You should view the humans as a test mold; unfortunately for them, they were not up to the expectations of Juxon and the White Watcher. Rather than viewing the humans as a failure, even though they were, you should look upon them instead as proof of the Three’s pursuit of absolute perfection which resulted in us.”

  Jorlan nodded his head in understanding. “You are right Lorne, blessed be the Three.”

  “I notice they don’t appear to have archers this time. Granted the gathering is larger than we initially thought, however without archer support they will be easily enough crushed. Today is as good a day as any to finally end Black Cleaver’s foul existence.” Lorne pondered for a few seconds and continued speaking. “I think I will personally lead the charge today; I would like to be present for when we forever remove his taint from these holy lands.”

  From the watch tower Lorne stared out across a mile of the Golden Plains which abruptly turned into the Singing Forest. The Golden Plains were the one area of arable land in all Vesnian; however, it was difficult to grow vegetables on the plains as the temperatures were constantly scorching all year round and wild fires commonly consumed large swaths of the swaying golden grass. Assembled on the plains was a massive army of undead, a horde that had slowly been building up over the last several weeks and was being led by an undead infamously known as Black Cleaver. The vile brute had earned the name as he carried a heavy war axe into battle that was stained black. Most of the time the undead were a disorganized lot but once every several hundred years a leader, through some unknown means, would come to exert dominance over a horde. While the undead, as far as the Vesnians could tell, had no complex cognitive functioning, they could perform very rudimentary actions. The undead could wield weapons and move in basic military formations. Phlebos scholars theorized the undead could do these things either by latent memories from their past or that they somehow shared an animalistic pack mentality. Lorne didn’t care how the undead could perform these basic abilities; his only concern was with destroying them and bringing glory to the Three.

  “Your grace, I beseech you to allow me the honor of leading the charge into the undead lines. I will act in your stead on this glorious day. I believe it would be unbecoming of you to appear on the field. Your presence would send a message that you respect the ability of these abominations,” spoke Worloh from behind Lorne.

  On top of the watch tower stood Lorne’s three generals, each commanding a branch of the military. Jorlan commanded the infantry, Worloh the cavalry and Yulor the archers. Each had served at Lorne’s side for two thousand years. While lesser officers and soldiers had come and gone, acceptable losses in the Phlebos war against the undead; Lorne’s top generals had never fallen. Each had seen more battles than they could remember for more reasons than one.

  Lorne pointed to the battlefield near the center of the undead line. Behind the corpses a head bobbed back and forth above the rest which kept shrieking unintelligible garbles - Black Cleaver. Rumors spoke of how the leader of the horde was taller than the other undead. The vile beast constantly screamed in a mockery of speech. Lorne briefly wondered if the garbled cries of Black Cleaver were actual commands to the horde.

  “That my friends, is Black Cleaver" spoke Lorne. "While my blade thirsts to carve open rotten flesh, I understand your argument Worloh. What would the populace think if they were to see me riding out to battle such horrors? I admit it would be most unsettling. I will therefore grant your request Worloh. On this day you will ride forth in the name of the Three and bring them glory."

  Lorne turned and the two Phlebos grasped each other firmly in a warm hug of friendship. For the first time in the meeting Yulor cleared his throat and spoke up. “I will begin preparing the archers to follow behind the main infantry brigade.”

  The high commander and Worloh released their embrace and Lorne gave Yulor a perplexed look. “I thank you for your eagerness Yulor, but we will have no need for your archers today.” Lorne looked skyward, there were no clouds above them and Aun beamed down on the battlefield in bright glory. “Aun has granted us his blessing today, our troops will ride forth in full glory; the Cavalry will crash with the main undead line and plow a swath of destruction through their ranks.”

  Yulor couldn’t hide the look of confusion and disbelief on his face. “Excuse me Lorne, but would it not be wiser to use all the tools available to us? We could end the battle much faster if we were to engage with infantry and then break their flanks with the cavalry.”

  Lorne flashed an insulting smile at Yulor, the kind of smile that one gives to someone who is endearingly lost and confused. “Not today my friend, Aun will be our infantry, archers and cavalry. He will guide the hand of Worloh and his men. Today Aun will bring us glory and in turn, we will return that glory to him.”

  Lorne clasped the shoulder of each of his generals, then turned and descended the ladder of the watch tower. On the street below soldiers moved at a frantic pace all around them. Hope's Bastion was a circular city with the center being where the church and barracks were located. Worloh and Jorlan went in separate directions barking orders at their officers. Yulor instead walked at a brisk pace to catch up to Lorne who was headed back to the small church near the town center.

  “Lorne, excuse me, may I have a quick word with you?” Yulor loudly whispered his question to the high commander. Yulor had to take two steps for every one that Lorne took; such was the height differential between the two. Whereas Lorne was very tall, muscular and sleek with a long narrow face that bore a scar down the left side of his face, Yulor was short, lithe, and bore almost no scars, a result of lifetimes of being behind the lines raining death down on his foes.

  Lorne stopped, the cadre of guards following him coming to a halt as well. Lorne smiled at his friend and, as Lorne customarily did, clasped Yulor on the left shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Of course, Yulor, the attack will be commencing shortly though so you’ll have to make this quick.”

  “Lorne, we’ve known each other for a long time, and I know we have mutual respect and admiration for one another. I also know we're commonly on separate sides of the aisle with me being the lone voice of dissent amongst the inner circle. While we commonly disagree, I believe this time you are making a terrible mistake. I understand how you want to make a show to the populace that the undead are nothing but a gnat to the Red Empire, and I completely
agree, but I believe this horde is a little bigger than a gnat. I’m not saying they won’t be defeated; I completely believe they will be; however I think blindly charging into the undead lines is tantamount to a suicide mission. If we engage and then hit the flanks they should buckle and the battle will be over in an hour at most,” pleaded Yulor.

  “I thank you for your concern Yulor," began Lorne. "As you stated, while we commonly disagree, I always respect your opinion. It’s one of the reasons you have been in your position so long, I respect your often differing views. However, know the decisions I make are not my own for my hand is guided by the Three and none can question the infallible decisions I make therein.”

  “Lorne – high commander, please, I beseech you! I believe you are letting arrogance, pride and piety cloud your vision." Yulor was becoming increasingly desperate in his attempt to get through to Lorne. "Worloh believes too strongly as you do and Jorlan dares not question your authority even if he does disagree with you. If you go through with this then I believe tomorrow you may have one less general than you have today.”

  Lorne flashed Yulor the condescending smile he was so good at delivering. “My friend, in a few hours you and I will be standing on the walls of the city watching a great display of Aun’s justice. When you witness Worloh smashing the undead lines with a glorious charge then you will know the true might of Aun’s blessing.” Lorne’s smile faded and shifted to a small scowl as he continued speaking. “Additionally, while I respect your opinion and consider you a good friend, I would suggest you never address me so brazenly again, especially in front of others. May the Southern Sun shine upon you brother.”

  “May the Southern Sun shine upon you brother,” whispered back Yulor knowing that further argument was futile. Lorne turned and headed towards the small wooden church in the town center.