Sword of Ares

by Alex Morgenstern

  Kassius frowned. He clenched his teeth.

  “I hate this. I hate part of myself. I can’t believe this is happening.” He swallowed. He stared at her, eyes wide open. “Ala, did you see my grandfather? The Elder?”

  “Yes, Kassius. I saw him.”

  Kassius sighed. “He is the only one who would know what to do.”

  “The soldiers were behind him. He’s still alive, but they’re trying to force him to say things. Kassius...”

  “Makes sense, if the people of Adachia don’t have a guide; even the women, they will kill anything that looks remotely like an Itruschian soldier whenever they get a chance. And believe me… they will.”

  “Kassius, two soldiers were standing next to him, heavily armed. He looked downtrodden, maybe tortured. And… he said something you will find interesting.”

  They entered Kassius’ villa in the dark, and he took an old lantern that still hung from the doorway.

  “Keep your voice low,” he said. “Speak in Gadalian, not in the common tongue.”

  “Sure…” she whispered.

  He guided her to a small room inside the wooden house, very different from the small bricks that constructed round Gadalian houses. There was a bed on the side, made of wood, and dozens of magical signs hung from the walls.

  “What did Aranus say?” Kassius asked, on his haunches, lighting a fire in the chimney.

  “He said… that we should bend our knees until the Sun of Ares sets on us, and its sword is found.”

  “The sword?” Kassius raised an eyebrow, bewildered. He fed the fire with dry branches from a basket next to the door. “Put that cloak of yours here to dry and put something dry on. Go change in my wardrobe if you want. Quickly, I don’t want you to fall sick,” he said to her. She put it on a chair and moved it next to the chimney.

  “So, the sun and the sword,” Alana continued, entering the wardrobe. She peeked through the hanging racks and found dresses that had belonged to Kassius’ late mother. She found one made of hemp, white on top with red embroiders descending from the collar into the hips where it turned into two stylized black bears, one on each side. Beautiful, comfortable, and protective, although it smelled a bit like old moss. “This is perfect,” she said to herself. She found a pair of thick winter boots and felt relieved when her feet were protected again, then she walked out. “You know about the legend, don’t you, Kasha?” she asked from behind the door.

  “Of course I do, Alana the Brave, that looks good on you, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” she smiled faintly. “So, I was telling you, your gramps said… the sword would be found.”

  Kassius sat on his bed, with the light of the chimney reflecting on his green eyes.

  “Then if it is true…” He sighed and knelt his head down. “I just cannot believe what just happened.”

  “We have to do something! Kasha, I’m here, safe, with you. Irema has been given as a wife. As a slave, rather, and Gitara has been locked away. She is pregnant! Kasha! This cannot be allowed to happen. The gods must help. They must!”

  Kassius took a deep breath.

  “I feel something. Something in my heart,” he muttered.

  “Alright. That is something. A bit weird, though.”

  “Ala,” He lifted his head. “What if the people who are meant to find it… is us?”

  Alana said nothing.

  “Kassius. I just wish to liberate my friends and the people I knew. My father died by their hands, and so many more. Kassius, I was with Badratz when it happened. I saw him die. I saw Atila, the big cadet from the army, die in front of me.”

  “Badratz?” Kassius moaned. He shook his head. “How could they? What did he do?”

  “Being Gadalian. That was his crime.”

  Kassius clenched his teeth. He peeled his eyes, astonished.

  “All dead. All… dead.”

  “All the men that could pose a threat. Only small children were left alive.”

  He sat cross-legged on his bed, his eyes sparkled, wide open, his thin face changed into fear and awe.

  “Why?” he said to the wind, shaking his head.

  “Kassius, the gods can’t let this go unpunished. If only we could do something to protect my people.”

  “Then, Alana, the sword must be found.”

  “I pray that it will. But...”

  Kassius stared at her.

  “Kassius?” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

  Alana felt like a boulder was being put over her shoulders, like a yoke of iron and wood. She was alive. She was free, as of that moment. What if the gods had put her in that place at that moment for a reason?

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And then what? Go around, parading it?” she asked.

  “Yes, let them spread the word, go East, to the tribes who still live on the steppe, go North, to the legionnaires among our people. This would go against my own father, my own Empire, but it is the true will of my heart. I can feel it, Alana. I can feel its energy drawing me toward this.”

  “I would say the same thing.”

  “But first, let’s find the sword. And if the gods have chosen us, believe me, we will.”

  Chapter XIII - Agriculture

  Cladius’ dining partners had already had a few trips to the Vomitorium, thus stuffing themselves for a second and third time as the night went on. The purpose of the meeting was still a mystery to him. No one mentioned anything about it. The conversations had centred on the quality of Southern wines and the varieties of grapes that produced the most aromatic ones and how they were on the palate; as well as compliments going to the chef. Roasted piglet was served stuffed with vine leaves, as well as succulent lamb ribs with pickled fish sauce. Even these glorious dishes could not get Cladius’ spirit up. He had a bit of diluted wine, but he knew if he drank more than necessary, his own soul would betray him.

  Time for dessert came in the form of fruits, even fat red mangoes imported from Bharat. Cladius missed their taste, for even though his bowels were sensitive to them, he ate them whenever the occasion arose.

  And yet, he wished he were not there at that moment.

  After laughter and jokes Cladius could not relate to, old Walpatinus cleared his throat and stood up with a painted vase in hand.

  “Friends, I am exceedingly glad to welcome you all home. I hope you have delighted yourselves at the legendary hospitality of the Walpatinus family. And as you can tell, we’ve kept the festivities family friendly.”

  Cladius remained still, pretending to smile.

  “Ave, my comrades. To the future!” Walpatinus said, as the rest of them repeated the formula and toasted.

  Cladius’ glance got lost in the red wine. Its sweet and vinegary aromas didn’t distract him from his loneliness.

  The old senator sat back, laughing as loud as he could.

  “Well, in all seriousness now.” Larius hushed his companions, and Walpatinus went on with his speech.

  “So, as you’ve known. This is a moment to come together as friends. We have persecuted different endeavours.” Walpatinus pointed at Cladius, as if acknowledging him. “You, my friend; you’ve had a quite successful campaign. It’s too bad, my friends, but we have all changed plans.”

  Cladius swallowed.

  “I am afraid, my friends, that I have not been informed about this meeting,” he said.

  “Yes,” Larius said. “Sorry to do it behind your back, but you know; we are the kind of people who love to compromise. We know your style, my friend, you like to be left alone and do things on your side, so we figured if you knew you wouldn’t come.”

  “Larius, cut it out,” Walpatinus said. “Let young Cladius relax. Anyway, aren’t we all old friends? Larius, your friendship with Cladius goes back many years.”

  “Once a friend, always a friend,” Larius said, raising his glass high.

  What did they want? To make him feel gui
lty? Did they think he was that gullible? He smiled shyly, but anyone could see the irony in his eyes.

  “So… Without further ado.” Walpatinus coughed loudly, covering his mouth with his long sleeves. “Today we will discuss the Frontier Agricultural Project.”

  Cladius opened his eyes wide. There were more questions in his head than from a few minutes ago.

  “The province of Tharcia, of which our beloved friend Larius is the current governor, is going through profound changes. You are all aware of the great democratic shift that is going on as we speak.”

  Cladius’ eye started to palpitate. Just thinking of the accounts of how Larius had wiped out all the men made him stutter. But it would be embarrassing to show it before the man.

  Larius stood up and looked at Cladius in the eye.

  “You know of the unfortunate death of a sixth of the total population, which was a necessary evil. I say it in great pain. And I am sorry for the economic losses it caused you, Senator Cladius. This is why I’ve invited you here, to make up for it.”

  Cladius opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  “So...” Walpatinus continued. “This is the deal. The province of Tharcia has vast swaths of forest, the rest is steppe. However, the sparsely populated land produces few things other than expensive metal weapons and armoury and clothing that can be acquired for the same price through the Great Commercial Routes. They harvest barley and their pernicious crop which they use for clothing and intoxication. Right now we have issues with providing food to our northern military people. And here in our glorious capital, women and children suffer.”

  “So… What are you planning to do?” Tiranus asked. “Just plant wheat, that’s it? But those barbarians don’t even know what a grain is.”

  “Yes!” Walpatinus snapped his fingers. “That’s why we’re going to repopulate it. We already started. Our soldiers are building their own families, we will soon burn down the primeval forest and start developing wide swaths of cultivable land.”

  “Wait...” Cladius said. “You cannot just burn a forest and then plant wheat in it.”

  “Well, we can. We will,” Larius said, locking his eyes with his.

  “What about the people?”

  “Most of the people there are women who are just being married to our legionaries,” Larius clarified. “We provided our soldiers with wives, and soon we will give them the land. The living standard of those women will be greatly improved. Those who are not married will be sent to work here.”

  “And what role do we play?” Tiranus asked, speaking for him and Cladius.

  “Tiranus, you already have contacts with imperial appointees and officials at trading routes. No one could be better for managing the transition. And you… Cladius. You may still manage the import and export of metal products and I will gladly grant you a percentage on the eventual production of grain.”

  “I see,” Cladius said, coughing.

  “I want you on my side,” Larius said with a big smile. “That’s why I cannot afford to lose you for this project.”

  “I see.”

  “And your friend Tiranus will be with you.”

  “I understand,” Cladius muttered.

  “So? Are you with us?”

  “I guess I am,” Cladius said, but sweat was drifting down from his brow. What could he do now?

  “So, we’ll keep you informed. Let’s discuss how we’ll go about it. I will be going back to Tharcia soon and implement these ideas.

  “Oh, so you’re going,” said Cladius.

  “Yes.”

  “He wanted to go,” Tiranus interrupted, pouring himself more wine.

  “Oh, did you?” Larius asked. “Why is that?”

  “I have always been curious. Now, my curiosity is even greater,” Cladius said.

  “You mean, you want to accompany me to Tharcia?”

  “Why not?” Cladius said, then swallowed. “Anyway, I’ll be part of your project. Why not… You know, get on with it. Start with the right foot.”

  “Certainly,” Larius said with a smile of white and gold, his three gold teeth reflected the light of the lanterns on the wall.

  Chapter XIV - Inquisitor

  Aranus remained still, his curved back pained from sitting on the hard wooden stool. Three armoured men sat around him, a pale lantern shone above their heads, unveiling their faces with fire light. The centurion faced him, his scarred brow in a perpetual frown and his dark head free from the elaborate helmet he carried the rest of the day. The other two were younger. One slender and pale. The other one smelled of wine and had a large forehead and early white hair. The dark curved walls of his own home remained still in the night, and he held in his tremors.

  He sighed, remaining still in his mind, in his dreams. He had gone through many battles in his youth, he had blessed thousands of swords to defend his people, and even shot arrows at beasts and enemies when necessary. And once again, he did not know whether he would come out alive. Pain pulsated in his back where his flesh was open and humid from that morning’s flogging.

  “I just need time to consult the spirits,” he said.

  “Do not be so foolish,” the centurion snapped at him. “You deserve to be dismembered just like all the others. Moreover, you are the true head of the serpent.” He looked at the slim soldier, then slapped Aranus across the face.

  The Elder tightened his teeth and turned his head back. The pain vibrated in his face like a throbbing burn. He took another deep breath and obliged his mind to focus on his breathing and not the pain. The slim soldier tensed his teeth and shut his eyes for an instant, as if distressed by the scene.

  The centurion stood up.

  “Do you want to die?” he screamed in Aranus’ face, spit splashing over him.

  “Death does not scare me,” Aranus muttered.

  “Then, as you wish,” the centurion looked at him sternly. “We will whip you a hundred times and remove your teeth one by one. Is that what you want, old man? Tell us the truth!”

  “Pain is pain. I cannot tell you anything but the truth, but what you are looking for in my words, that I do not know.”

  “You are asking for the whipping again, old man. This time, it will be worse.”

  No question remained in his mind. They wanted to seal fear in him. Had they succeeded? It was of no use, he thought, he felt like water in a vessel about to break. Even if the vessel broke, the water would maybe scatter, but remain, ready to take any other shape.

  What was pain, anyway, but an illusion?

  “Now, old man. Speak,” the centurion grabbed him by the hemp tunic. What is the meaning of the Red Sun?” He asked, his dark eyes fixed on his.

  Aranus breathed deeply.

  “The red sun is the Red Star. The one you call after the god Mars, the sun that shone many aeons ago. The third sun, in the age of the giants, the ones you call Titans.”

  “Quit the idiocy and tell us what it means. Was it a cue to cultists? A secret message?”

  Aranus looked up at the centurion, and he spoke calmly:

  “Yes. Why not? It is a cue to those who believe.”

  “What does it mean? What is the meaning of this sign in the sky? Is it calling for a rebellion? Is a rebellion going to be the response?”

  “No rebellion whatsoever, sire. I have told you. Only hope in the prophecies.”

  “Centurion Julius,” the slender soldier interrupted his superior. “I think he's telling the truth.”

  “No he is not,” Julius stood up, almost tumbling the table on the side. “He’s hiding something about the Mysteries.”

  “I am saying what I know,” Aranus said, lowering his head. “What do you want me to say? I have told you over and over again. The Sword of Ares was given by the God to fight the giants. What it means for the future, I do not know. I have only vague figures in my mind.”

  “Centurion, the man is telling the truth,” the young soldier said. “He
meant it as a cue, but of nothing real and tangible, but of the dreams he has.”

  “Do you think you know anything about how this works? First of all, do not talk to your superior like that, or the gods will choose you for decimation.”

  “I am just saying,” the rebellious soldier said, eyes down, shaking his head. “There is nothing more we can get. There is no conspiracy.”

  “You don't understand, do you?” The centurion grew anxious. “Now, get on with the program, or you will be the one hung for asking so many questions.”

  The soldier did not answer.

  “I… I understand. Yes, sir.”

  “Now, as for you.” The centurion looked back at Aranus. “You quit playing around and get on with the program. Now I will give you a chance. Tomorrow you will address the women. Tell them to comply if they don't want the guts of their toddlers to be spilled, and then their own. Tell them nicely, so they understand.”

  Aranus tensed his teeth. Should he resist and die? Or...

  A thought crossed his mind. He could feel power vibrating through his soul. The gods still needed him.

  “I will always speak the truth. If this is needed to protect them, I will.”

  The centurion unsheathed his short sword, riveted. He swung it upward and Aranus heard a bang. The centurion had driven it through the armrest. Aranus feared having lost his fingers, but it was not the case.

  “And tell me something about the Red Sun, something that satisfies me, or else you’ll lose a hand. At least.”

  Aranus kept breathing deep. “He fought the giants and imprisoned them.”

  “Are we the giants?” the centurion yelled impatiently, waving his sword around. “What the hell does that mean? I am losing patience with you. We have tried to be soft with you old man, but you will drive me out of my usual.”

  “That things will be as they once were.”

  “Once again. Are we the giants?”

  Aranus hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “Enough. If you mention the damn legend once again to those wanton whores, I’ll cut off all of your fingers. Understood?”