The Crumbling Kingdom

by Jeffrey Hall

  The city’s soldiers.

  An entire battalion surrounded the creature, throwing spears, blowing darts, shooting arrows, but the thing’s quickness and ferocity was too much for the soldiers. It charged forward, slashing them where they stood, gouging them with its horns, all the while the soldiers’ projectiles hanging from its back like bloody quills sprouted unintentionally.They’d bring it down, but not without losing a dozen lives in the process.

  Roars cried from further out in the city. Wish kept on, leaving the chaos at his back, keeping his distance from the creature and the soldiers, but his attempt was short lived. The further he went, the more of the destruction he saw.

  Thorkins and other creatures were everywhere. Some chased after fleeing citizens. A broadback, a giant four-legged beast who used its size to pulverize its victims, trampled three men as they tried to stand against it with spears and machetes. Not much further away a pair of amber monkeys dug into the head of an unlucky fool who tried to combat them, searching his innards like they were checking each other for lice. And just up ahead, there was a spear snake, coiled around a tree, plucking out people as they ran. Still there were other things hanging from the side of huts and buildings, tearing away the mud and stone walls as if they were attempting to unearth a rodent from its burrow, things Wish could not identify because of the way their faces were hid in the shadow of the architecture or masked in gore. Somewhere in the back of Wish’s mind during that mad dash, he couldn’t fathom how so many creatures could have entered into the city at once, but the answer came as he rounded the next street corner, the one that would bring him to the edge of the Trough, the one that would bring him to the Nest, and saw an army of Green Men marching down the Gold Row.

  In the short time since Wish had seen them last, it looked as if they had met an armorer. Gone were their rags and piecemeal armors, replaced by full plates and leaf mails, real suits that would stop spears once they met for war. Even from his distance Wish could see Trice and the twin Treebacks at the front of the pack, their weapons raised, a mad gleam in their eyes. From the back of their ranks came sacks of meat and fruit, trechi woods and alagasa spice, beetle musks and replicated perfumes of creatures in heat... all of it was thrown over the walls and then upon the nearby buildings, a manmade downpour of bait sprinkling the city. And even as Wish stopped in his tracks to watch it unfold, a spider ape climbed over the edge of a pile of stones to investigate the blood sack dangling from the side of the Nest and what remained of the western wall it had leaned against.

  It had been decimated. Rubble and disarray lay strewn across one of Fangmora’s main entrances, partly from the wall itself, the other part from the Nest. A gaping wound had been rent in the building’s side, and it now looked as if the wrong breeze would send it crashing to the ground for good. Above the wild din of the creatures, the people, and the Green Men in front of him, he thought he heard screams echoing out from its innards.

  “Bastards!” shouted Trice from the front of the encroaching line, and for a moment Wish thought she was yelling at him, but the yells that came from behind him told him otherwise.

  “Distance! Distance!”

  A group of soldiers equal to the size of the Green Men’s own marched down the Gold Row. Their weapons and armor gleamed bloodily beneath the new moonlight and the just blooming glow-blossoms, announcing to all the fights they had already won along their journey to arrive to the city’s edge.

  The soldiers fanned out, forming rows, their shields out as those in the back unfurled their bows and blowguns.

  Before they could fire, Trice screamed, “Give them the jungle!”

  The Green Men charged. Wish realized too late that he was stuck in the middle. “Smook,” he muttered to himself.

  “Fire!” yelled the soldiers’ commander. The bows twanged and the blowguns puffed. Wish fell to the ground, throwing his hands over his head as hundreds of projectiles cut the air above him. A few of the Green Men dropped, but it was not enough to stop them from coming. Boots stampeded towards him, and as the body of a Green Man skidded to a stop at his side, a dart between the poor Fossala’s eyes, he sprang upright as to not be trampled by the oncoming horde and unsheathed his machete.

  A few of the Green Men reared in surprise at his sudden appearance, as if in gazing across the Gold Row at the hundreds of soldiers that waited there they had looked past him as nothing more than another body on the street put there by way of the creatures they had unleashed as their vanguard.

  Wish tried to put his palms up to show that he met no harm, but the others attacked all the same, too set on fighting to think otherwise or perhaps ordered to cut down anything in their way that didn’t have a leaf tucked behind its ear.

  A human and a Pangolian charged him with pronged spears. Wish cut down, his totemic machete trimming down the points of the polearms to nubs, but it did not stop the Pangolian from dropping his shoulder into him and sending him bouncing into the side of a sprinting Treeback. The gorilla swung out with a mace the size of Wish’s head. He ducked and thrust upwards, connecting with the Treeback’s elbow. Behind him the Pangolian still came, but an arrow struck his eye, sending him falling beneath his rushing comrades.

  Wish barely had time to react before another’s machete came for his head. He leaned back, but the tip of the blade still reached beneath his eye. He grunted, and saw his blood leave with the blade as it was retracted back to its owner, a Chassa whose fur had been died purple like a bruise. The monkey hissed and went for Wish’s chest, but he bumped into someone else, pushing him away from the monkey’s attack. He would have fallen to his feet if not for someone else brushing into him, turning him around completely.

  In that mad spin, he glimpsed the dozens of Green Men that had already rushed past him and were engaged with the soldiers. The Green Men flung themselves wildly into the soldier’s shields, as they in return lashed out with spear, lance, arrow, and dart, dropping some midair as they lunged, but even their effort was not enough to stop the wild attacks of the rebels. For amongst the soldiers, breaking up their ranks were a few Green Men, hacking wildly, trying to undo the knots of golden armor that impeded their advance. It was a torrent of violence, and Wish was caught trying to go upstream of it.

  Wish had just regained his footing when a dart fluttered through the bobbing heads, landing in his shoulder. The impact sent him reeling, careening into the terrible current of boots and bodies at his back. He bounced off armor and slipped between the cracks of the Green Men’s force, landing painfully upon the ground, joining the dozens that already littered it. Someone’s barefoot landed on his face. Another kicked his side, and yet still another put all its weight upon his ankle. Somewhere amidst that chaos his shoulder cried with agony and he was aware of the dart still lodged within it, and he prayed to anything that would listen that the dart wasn’t poisonous.

  With fury and adrenaline coursing beneath his skin, he tried to rise, but a body fell atop of him, a screaming Gibbon with an arrow stuck in the side of her face. The Gibbon hollered and yipped, tearing at him and the ground to once more stand upright and fight against the death that was no doubt descending upon her. Wish slipped his arm around her neck and used her mad throes to come to his knees. But as he did another’s knee connected with his face, landing in the same spot where the Chassa’s machete had sliced him.

  He caught himself from going back to the ground with his machete, and then with a yell of fury, swung out in a wide arc, severing three legs that stumbled towards him. Three Green Men collapsed into others, creating a momentary reprieve from the stampede. Wish used it to once again stand upright. He had just enough time to pull out the dart from his shoulder before a Boarling with two leaves stuffed behind his ears saw his comrades flopping on the ground, legless, and came at him with an axe. Wish lunged into the Boarling, sneaking inside the man’s cramped swing and jabbing the dart into his neck before the axe could come around. The Boarling’s tongue flopped out between his tusks. He dropped his ax
e, grabbed hold of Wish’s neck, and squeezed. Despite the man’s dying strength, his fingers were strong enough to take Wish’s breath. Wish’s eyes bulged as he stared into the Boarling’s own furious pupils, his blood dribbling out over Wish.

  Die! Wish screamed in his head, but when the man’s grip wouldn’t lessen, Wish brought his machete into the Boarling’s gut. At last his fingers loosened on his throat, and his eyes stopped their twitching before falling away from Wish completely.

  As the Boarling fell away, Wish caught a glimpse of the other side, of the Nest and the wall and what felt like salvation from the chaos. There were only a few lines of Green Men left, perhaps if he just pushed himself through...

  No sooner did he devise his freedom from the battle, than a massive hand found the back of his shirt. Suddenly he was lofted into the air, swung high over the fight where the tips of spears and arrows dominated like some violent canopy. He met the ground once more in a hard thud and came face-to-face with one of the Treeback twins that protected Trice Dira.

  Wish couldn’t fathom how the machete-wielding gorilla could have seen him from the front lines of the chaos, but he must have been making enough of a commotion amongst their ranks to have garnered his attention.

  “Green fucker!” snarled the twin in a strangely high-pitched voice, the first thing he had ever heard one of them say. His honey colored eyes narrowed and he brought forth his machete the size of a cleaver. With no other option, Wish brought his forehead into the Treeback’s nose.

  The gorilla stumbled, but didn’t lose his grip on Wish’s shirt. Wish reeled, coming back around into the Treeback’s thigh, bringing down his machete into his massive leg. The Treeback roared as the blade went straight through just above his knee. He flung Wish, who still gripped his machete tightly. The burning blade left the Treeback’s thigh awkwardly, tearing a jagged wound within him that almost severed his leg for good. Wish landed upon one of the men with a sack of meat over his shoulder throwing it out like bait. He rolled free, his new wounds along with his old ones screaming to let him know that they were still there. The man holding the sack cursed him and went for a dagger, but Wish grabbed his hand before he could unsheathe it and bent it back. He brought up his machete, unaware of where the bladed side faced and brought it to the man’s head. He hit him with the flat part of the wooden blade, a thing still burning hot from the baboon totem. It singed the man’s face, causing him to cry out. The man pushed the blade away with his other hand, it burning his fingers as he did. He gritted his teeth, a new patch of raw skin replacing the place where his fur once was. He snapped out, snarling, threatening to tear Wish’s own face away.

  Wish let go of his other hand, snatched the man’s own dagger, and shoved it into his eye. The Green Man squealed, but that was the last noise he made. Wish scrambled beside the large sack and waited for the last of the Green Men to shuffle forward and engage completely in the battle.

  He gathered his breath for only a moment, listening to sad sounds of the dying and the cries of the beasts that had been drawn over the walls, a noise to fill in the constant yammer of the fight. The Gold Row was no longer the same lustrous hue that gave it its name. It was red. Every stone for what seemed like a mile was speckled with blood.

  He only had a brief moment of astonishment before the cries nearby took him from his respite along the street.

  He pushed aside the sack of meat and his vision refocused on the catastrophe that was left on the other side of the fight.

  Buildings had been toppled. Bodies lay in the streets. Citizens ran chaotically through the city, fleeing creatures that chased after them hungry, or scared into violence. Yet even amongst the terrible scene, there were groups of looters pillaging the leftovers, turning over houses, taking anything they could, yelling about how they were claiming the territory for their own.

  He hurried towards the Nest, and from his new vantage point saw the gaping wound exposing the now empty rooms that once held its priestesses and their cares. The hallway to the main chamber still stood intact, the shapes of the eggs in the doorway visible like curious heads peeking out to see what would come next. Three looters stood amongst the rubble, flipping away stones, rummaging through the small chests that the women who called it home used to keep their minimal possessions. Yet they looked cautious, constantly stealing glances into the chambers deeper within, places where strange noises emanated from

  Wish leapt up the front stairs, taking three steps at a time, and pushed aside the loose door.

  A type of creature Wish had never seen before stalked the main vestibule. It was bipedal and scaled, each segment of its skin curved and thin like hooks fit together to make chainmail. And between those cracks were pulsating lights, as if the thing’s heart pushed out polychromatic blood into its long, boney stature. The effect was immediate. It disoriented him, causing his eyes to water. He could barely see when the thing turned its face to address his arrival.

  It had two pink eyes to match the twilight-rich sky overhead. Its teeth were hooks too, silvery promises screaming out that if they caught him they would never let go. A fleshy beard hung from its chin, making it look old, as if it had been around since the jungle itself was created.

  He wondered how such a thing could have been wrangled from the forest to stand before him then, and realized that this was the jungle’s revenge. Its redeemer. The thing it sent forth to punish him for all his transgressions upon it.

  “Come down, come here. Come take us, stay fear...” Through his blurred vision he could see the Grand Priestess, Risa, huddled in the corner, a staff in her bloody hands, her tail missing, the side of her face raked, praying, begging the bird she devoted her life to come and save her from the demon that was attempting to devour her.

  Wish went for his short spear, and the creature’s light flashed blue. A wave of panic came over him. His heart clenched shut. Cold sweat poured from his body. Images rambled into his head.

  His mother’s death. His father’s broken leg. The gantama that broke it. Marli. The first time he saw his daughter. A thousand eyes staring at him, throwing their disgust at him, conjuring from him a thousand countless lies...

  All he wanted to do was run. All he wanted to do was crumple into a ball. All he wanted to do was to escape into the jungle where he could hide away from the creature and its terrible visage forever.

  But the cry of a baby in a nearby room broke the creature’s spell. The grip of fear he felt was replaced by a more primal one. One he had yet to experience. The fear of losing his child.

  He came to just as the creature lunged. He brought up the spear and impaled the thing’s shoulder, keeping it at bay as it swiped out with its claws and snapped. Its colors changed to green, and he suddenly felt cold, a feeling he rarely felt in Fangmora except for the strange days in the Season of Storms when snow would crawl down from the mountains. He could see his breath. His muscles cramped and his fingers felt numb. He lost control of his spear and the creature lunged.

  It landed atop him, putting one of its claws straight through Wish’s other shoulder, the one that hadn’t taken the dart, as if the thing wanted to match the wound Wish had given it. Wish bit down, the curse on his tongue stifled by his clamped jaw. He swung his frozen fist into the creature’s head, slapping it away before its jaws sunk into his face.

  All it did was make the thing angrier. It forced its jaws down despite the useless strength of his numbed hands. But just as its jaws opened and Wish thought for sure his cheeks would be torn away by its many-hooked teeth, its face was swiped away from him. Risa stood in its place, her staff in hand. The feeling of cold left.

  Wish came to his feet.

  “It’s like some sort of totem magic,” huffed Wish.

  “But for the eyes.” Risa leaned on her staff, but she looked ready to use it again as she started to pray. Wish had been wrong. She didn’t pray for saving, she prayed like a battle cry.

  The creature scrambled back to its feet and screamed, the cracks betwe
en its scales flashing a dark red. Pain shot through him as if every vein in his body filled with fire.

  “Close your eyes,” shouted Risa, anguish in her voice. “I’ll be your sight.”

  He dared to take Risa’s advice and close his eyes. The pain stopped, but now he was fighting blind.

  “It’s crouching,” shouted Risa.

  Wish took out his machete and held it in front of him, trying to imagine the creature in his head.

  “It’s going to pounce.” Risa’s voice crackled with pain.

  Wish raised his weapon. The creature roared. He heard stone shift.

  “Now!” shouted Risa.

  Wish swung down, and he felt his blade crack down upon the creature, and the thing screamed in agitation. Wish dared to open his eyes and saw a gaping slash down its chest, where a new color poured out of it.

  Purple.

  As soon as he opened his eyes he felt the intense urge to vomit. His skin crawled. Juices flooded his mouth. He shut his eyes again.

  “Take two step forwards!” shouted Risa before retching.

  Wish did, trying to remember the image of the main chamber and the creature in his head before moving.

  One, two, he counted as his feet hit the ground. The creature hissed.

  “Duck!” cried Risa.

  Wish opened his eyes to see its claws cutting the air, but could not react in time to avoid its strike. It slashed his arm, raking from his shoulder down to his elbow. He stumbled backwards and the creature flashed blue again. With the wound in its chest, the color dazzled unabated, an empowered defense mechanism.

  His head swam with horrors. It was as if he were in the dream the botamancer’s bouquet had put him in again. The jungle burned. So did his father. So did Marli. So did his daughter. Everything he cared about and loved sizzled to ashes. And he was helpless to do anything about it. He cried out, tears streaming from his eyes as he slammed them shut again.