Bane of a Nation
Page 27
Enk had an eyebrow raised. “I go now….”
“Seriously, Enk.” Devos was pleading to obstinacy. “Listen to us. Who are you to put us all at risk?”
“I never wanted to lead. You all forced it upon me. If you wish to heed my command, then heed it.” Enk kicked his spurs against his horse and rode away.
“His ego’s gotten too big for his head,” Devos said.
“How so?” asked Antin.
“Eh, agree to disagree, I guess.” Devos wiped phlegm from his mustache and rubbed it against his pants. “Do you know where we go?”
“I’ll get us there.”
“Do you agree with me—about the Raurs?” Devos waited for a response; when Antin nodded, he continued. “Let’s get together with Vessi and plan it ourself.”
“We defer to him for a reason,” Antin said. “We can’t undermine every decision we disagree with.”
“Is that a ‘no’?”
“Yes, it’s a ‘no.’”
“Can I undermine everything you say?”
“No.”
“Gotcha.”
Their deep and meaningful conversation went on as they followed dirt paths to their destination: a shanty town on the outskirts of Parven. Houses were stacked upon other houses with a joint drainage system, which, Devos figured, served as a kind of sewer.
Voyids and their myriad freckles moved about the confines of the acre, a mixture of Mesals and Raurs and Mesallian Raurs.
“I guess Soten isn’t the only hellhole,” Devos said. “How do they even sustain themselves?”
Antin shrugged. “They don’t.”
They found Enk in what was referred to as the “trade district”: a meaningless name if there ever was one; he was giving people food, and they would respond with their words of gratitude. He had been here many times before, a constant source of praise among the poorer rings of society.
Devos and Antin dismounted to help unload the cart that had arrived; it was packed with crates full of oats, beans, eggs, and cheese.
“I like to pet the dog as does any man,” said Devos, “but this is overkill. We have an army to nourish.”
“If we treat them as family, they’ll respond in kind,” Enk said. “We need all the support we can get.”
“So, it’s a ruse?” Devos asked. “Like Ritek drinking from the chalice.”
“I prefer to think of it as hospitality.” Enk kicked open the top of a crate.
“You do it for gain. How’s that any different?”
“It’d be cheaper and less time-consuming to coerce them with the threat of violence.”
“Why must you incessantly question everything?” Antin asked.
“Why not?” Devos crinkled his face. “I have opinions and an urge to speak them. At least you know where I stand.”
“Yeah, all over the place.” Antin chuckled at his own joke. “And for your information, we all have opinions.”
“Opinions, yes, but no voices to speak them.”
24
Vessi Caluso
Panther General
The array of Raurian soldiers stood across the field, their orange or green regimentals a stark contrast to the shoddy clothing of the Mesals; the Elynaurian infantry was not present.
To the right of Vessi’s brigade were the forces of the Noconyx, adorned in ornamental suits more suitable to fetes and parades than to actual combat.
Enk and Selath had informed him of the plan to betray the congregation, and Vessi’s men were those chosen to fulfill it. He thought the plan premature, but he had sworn his loyalty to the Arqua brothers, and his own sense of honor forbade him from breaking that oath.
Vessi had been a lancer for the Nisola family: an organization of drug-lords and racketeers who, at the time, controlled the opiate fields of northern Soten. He upheld their dominance by striking fear into the minds of their rivals; a member of the death squad, his job was to torture and eventually behead his victims: a tradition initialized by the Nisolas and propagated by their enemies.
The Arqua family rose to prominence as a splinter group of The Vigilantes. Civilians, having tired of the bloodshed, had formed a union of farmers and craftsmen, of brothers and fathers; and they marched to the manors with pitchforks and flame. They wreaked havoc on the countryside, using the tactics of the cartels to defeat them; however, they succumbed to the same corruption that they had once fought against.
For every tyrant displaced, three rose to take their position; the promises of wealth were too tempting to be ignored. The two brothers and their supporters were the only faction not swayed by their greed; they pressed onward, killing the obstinate and integrating the repentant. When their power had amassed, they took on the strongest and most influential of the families, slaughtering high-ranking members of the Nisolas by the dozens.
When Enk assailed the capital city of Soten, his men besieged the armory to where Vessi and his subordinates had fled. Making what he thought was his final stand, Vessi charged at the brothers, fighting with both of them for sixty bouts before yielding his halberd. Enk had been so impressed that he offered him mercy in return for his servitude.
Today, Vessi prepared his troops as the Raurs marched across no man’s land. Selath was yet to order for his cannons to be fired.
The Noconyx strode forward, their brigadier generals raising the black flags of aggression. The Mesallian brigades had been told to proceed in a winged formation in an attempt to encircle the Raurs, a detail that made Vessi’s task a bit simpler; his men marched four yards behind those of the congregation.
Selath began the bombardment of Raurian lines. The trajectories had been altered, and the projectiles were now falling on barren land.
The Orynaurian forces ran at the pale men; they remained firm as bullets flew into them. The pale men withdrew their swords and rushed to meet their foes.
Vessi thought about what Devos had said: “to hold up and attack the congregation in its waning moments”; he thought better of it. He commanded his soldiers to position themselves diagonally, to spread out and cover whatever gaps the Orynaurs had failed to wrap themselves around.
“Fire!” Vessi shouted, and his subordinates mimicked it down the line. The pale men stumbled from the shots at their backside; although they tried to scatter, they were quickly surrounded. Vessi’s men plugged their bayonets and joined the melee.
The pale men became more and more vicious; the allied lines were thinning at a rapid pace.
Vessi turned to the sound of war-horns behind him. Over the hill appeared one line of cavalry, then two, then four, until eight-hundred horses were galloping beneath the banners of Elynen. The nectors trampled over the Mesallian linemen, a marauding horde of steel and iron that vanquished everything in its path.
A blow to the stomach knocked Vessi from his stallion.
Desoru rode around him. He jumped from his horse and plodded to him. He was seven feet in height, at least. “Get over here, you cunt.” He yanked Vessi upwards and threw him back to the ground.
Vessi crawled away in an attempt to regain his footing. Desoru seized his legs and swung and slammed him into the dirt.
“Have you no honor?” Vessi rolled onto his back. “Give me a chance to fight, coward.”
Desoru used his boot to slam down on his face. “Then get up!”
Vessi clutched his head. Blood was spewing from his nose. “You’re a goddamned coward.” He sat up and made the effort to stand, but Desoru awaited him with a kick to the stomach.
“You’re the coward.” He kicked him again, this time in the shin. “Get up and fight me.”
Ritek found them amidst the fray. He gripped Desoru by the arm. “Let him stand.”
Desoru yanked his arm from Ritek’s grip. “He helped turn you over to the congregation.” His shoulder brushed against Ritek as he came to stand over Vessi.
“I didn’t say spare him. I said let him stand.”
“He helped subdue me when I was drunk.” Desoru head-butted Ritek
and knocked him off his feet. “Where’s the honor in that?”
Ritek squirmed on the ground. “I am your chief!”
Vessi was able to regain his posture as Desoru walked over to Ritek.
“Eryek was my chief.” He pressed his boot against Ritek’s stomach. “Before you took his life.”
“I did not kill my father!” Ritek unstrapped the knife from his thigh and sliced the back of Desoru’s knee.
Desoru merely stumbled at the first gash, but the second brought him to his knees. He pounded his fist into Ritek’s face.
“Alright then,” said Vessi. His brigade was almost entirely decimated, but more Orynaurians had joined the fight and were overwhelming the Noconyx.
Horses rode freely from the battlefield. Weapons and banners had been strewn about.
It appeared as if the Tekotaurians and Mesals were winning in the east.
The chief of Orynen was giving everything in his fight against the congregation; their forces were equally matched. Mauro rode with his nectors, at the forefront even; twice he had parried swings that were aimed at his fellow men.
Vessi grabbed a wild horse and threw himself onto it. He steered it towards the chief. The Orynaurians seemed to contemplate striking him. He seized a pale man by the horns of his helmet, bending his head back and then slitting his throat. The Orynaurians ignored him after that.
The allied soldiers let few stragglers escape. Anyone who dared flee was hunted down and maimed. The last of the Noconyx fell to Orynaurian blades.
Mauro glanced at Vessi but quickly averted his eyes; after a moment, he rode to greet the Mesal. “Impressive,” Mauro said. “Without your men holding off the Elynaurians, they would’ve crushed us without a doubt.”
“Your men did the majority,” Vessi said.
“Are you one of Enk’s or Antin’s?”
“Both. But I serve in Enk’s division.”
Mauro tried to air out his armor. “You’d think I’d be used to the heat by now.” He wiped his forehead. “Can you bring me to him?”
Vessi looked him over. “You, yes, but the others stay behind.”
“He goes nowhere without a guard,” a nector said.
“Then he goes nowhere.” Vessi turned to Mauro. “I mean no disrespect.”
“Of course not,” Mauro said. “It’s understandable. Bivek, stay here and do whatever it is you do.”
A different nector snickered. Bivek glared at Mauro, hatred evident in his gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Vessi thought Mauro’s comment unnecessarily haughty. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.
Mauro nodded. “Is it true that the congregation is two-brigades-strong in Parven?”
Vessi whipped his horse into a trot. “The last two outside the capital.”
“The capital is as good as ours.” Mauro smirked at him. “Sworfaur has anchored in the east and the Vyktaurs in the Hilorian Sea.” He came across as more arrogant than the depictions of him.
“That leaves our next move more important than ever,” Vessi said, ignoring the boasting.
“Yes…, it does.”
Enk was sitting solemnly on his horse. He didn’t seem to notice the duo as they approached.
“Sir,” said Vessi, “the Orynen chief’s here to speak with you.”
“We meet again.” Mauro smiled. “What a magnificent victory.”
“A victory it was.” Enk bowed his head. “But we must still take the chancellor’s stronghold.”
“I can envision a day where Mesal and Raur live side-by-side, their differences set aside.”
Enk pondered the thought. “That’ll never happen, but we can exist peacefully in our own lands.”
“The more realistic approach,” Mauro admitted with a pout of the lips. “My senior advisor has urged me—within accordance of our agreement—to strike you on the ninth day.” He tightened the reins around his wrists. “I’ve done some … regrettable … things under his advisement. I wish to rectify that. No more blood need be shed between us.”
“Have you come to offer speculation?” Enk asked. “Or do you genuinely propose peace?” He rested his stumpy hand on his thigh and looked at it with disgust.
Vessi knew a part of Enk’s manhood had left him along with the function of that hand.
Mauro coughed. “Am I not allowed to segue?” His white teeth gleamed in the sunlight. “I’m proposing peace—from this moment on; we shall share this victory as brothers.”
“If you hold true to your promise, I’ll bid my men do the same.” By this point, he was staring at Mauro, almost indifferently. “What does Tekotaur have to say?”
“I am the marshal now. He will obey my command.” His hands were turning purple. He followed the path of Vessi’s gaze and unknotted the reins from his wrists. “News has trickled down. Gregh has met an untimely fate.”
“Untimely how?” Enk yawned, once and again, as if lacking in breath.
“Betrayed by one of Ritek’s men.” He gave a sideways glance. “Got himself captured by the chef—of all people. The guardsmen had his eyes sewn shut. By his own word, Ritek had sent him to kill the entire family.”
Enk maintained eye-contact. “Did he?”
“The wife … the child. Their bodies were cremated, the ashes thrown to the wind.” Despite Mauro’s bravado on the battlefield, his uncertainty was becoming apparent. He was twirling the reins around his fingers, and he hadn’t gone a minute without distracting himself with some meaningless action. “Must you bring it to the other Panther Generals, or have you the authority to make the decision yourself?”
Enk had been brooding over something. Suddenly, he said: “None of us want this war. Evoru had the magistrate slayed and drove our people from their homes. We reacted. My generals will welcome the peace.”
“I was no part of that scheme….” Mauro looked over the remnants of the battlefield. “Why did the Elynaurians turn on you?”
“He has his reasons,” Enk said. “If there’s an opportunity to better himself, he’ll take it.”
“He fled during the battle, but six of his nectors are back on our side.” Mauro winked. “Not by choice of course.” He kicked his horse into a trot, and the others followed him. “I wanted to thank you for your kindness—when I was a prisoner. Surprisingly not the worst three weeks of my life.”
“Three weeks and a day.” Enk glanced at his pocket-watch. “You don’t wanna know what the congregation would’ve done with you.”
“Ritek seems fine.”
Tired of being an observer, Vessi said: “He’s done nothing but aid the congregation.”
“That’s true.” Mauro turned back to Enk. “How well are their provisions?”
They followed a trail up the hill. Leaves glided down as their helms rustled the branches.
“If we are to draw out a fight, it’ll be a week at least.” Enk caught a leaf in his stump. He held it up to the sun, pinched between two stubs, and illuminated the brilliant red-hue. “It’s beyond the edge of the climb.”
Vessi marveled at the scene in front of them as they finished the ascent. Miles yonder, the fortress was encircled by a wide mote; four platforms jutted out from the fortress’ center, providing defense of every angle. A shrine with two towers had been built around the barracks. The barrens around it were flat and fertile with a fine mist that seemed to hang over the land, and white vultures soared above it.
“It’s insurmountable.” Mauro placed a hand to his chin. “We’ll have no need to talk peace after scaling that.”
“We mustn’t waste no time.” Enk began ripping apart the leaf in delicate strips. “My men’ll take it south, southeast.”
“We march.” Mauro removed a glove and extended his hand to Enk. “Brother.”
“The gods watch over you.” Enk shook his hand.
Mauro turned to Vessi. “You fought bravely. It was an honor.”
The comment resolved the bitterness he had felt at having been ignored. “It’s mutual,” he said.
“What do you think of his intentions?” Enk asked.
“They say he’s a liar.” Vessi bit his lip. “They also say he’s a coward on the battlefield. I have yet to see that proven.”
“Everyone has their moments. I wanna give him my trust, but I find it increasingly difficult.”
“A fire-forged alliance is oft the strongest.”
Enk hummed a single sound. “Yeah, but you didn’t speak like a flatterer.”
They returned to the camp. Enk commanded Devos to have the soldiers ready in four hours, after their meals, and Devos had them marching with twelve minutes to spare. There was a sense of togetherness, that the soldiers respected their commanders and believed that their struggle was righteous.
The Mesallian armies diverged from the path of the Raurs and traversed the road that led straight north. They camped in the wheat fields: one final stop before the siege of the Starred Fortress.
Vessi used twigs and branches to build a fire. Enk, Selath, and Antin came to share in its warmth.
“Whatever happened to the magistrate-slayer?” Selath asked as he eased his butt onto the dirt.
“We haven’t seen him since that day.” Antin shrugged.
“Poor man.” Selath put a cob of corn on the tip of an arrow. “He still thought there’s a chance his daughter is alive. How long had he spent hoping to find her?” He held the arrow over the flames.
“A just punishment for his sloth,” Vessi said. “He knew the wrongs of the congregation, and he only cared when it was his child.” He took a swig from the jug of rum.
“We’ve all been there.” Antin received the jug. Raising it to his lips, he said: “More than we’d care to admit.” He gasped for air as his throat tightened.
“Are you alright over there?” Selath grabbed the jug with one hand. “It’s horrible what they do.” He rotated the arrow.