Part 1, chapter VI

VI. In Which the Blazing Sword is Unsheathed

 

            When we moved on, we left behind a casket of ale and a crate of dried meats. Afterwards, we never spoke a word of the incident again, but resumed our silent trek until we attained the end of the vale.

            As we emerged upon the open plateau before Helltooth, I saw that the surrounding jungle was singed and shrouded in a blanket of soft grey ash. Blackened, mangled trunks poked from the vale’s head, which was bald and scored by blackened runes where intense heat had caused the very ground to melt.

            “Sol,” Orchid whispered, and he needn’t say more.

            From Hellstooth’s foot we headed west, travelling along the rugged mountain floor until we arrived at a place where two great crags slopped gently into a low pass, and through this corridor we proceeded.

At nights, I still kept watch, and sometimes I would spy a faint red glow above the mountain peaks.

            Denthilde’s cheek healed up far too quickly, and soon he was up to his usually foolery. Kindred kept close to her beau, fawning over him as often as she could. Perhaps on account of this behavior, I avoided her and Denthilde for most of that stretch.

            In the evening, Mechias resumed his instruction of me. I was learning my chords, but I did not yet have the patience to sit down and practice as I ought to. Instead, I continued to strum as I had before, until my fingers grew weary and the last of the Northerners fell asleep by the campfire. Mechias shook his head wearily when, out of frustration, I set the instrument aside and lay on my back, starring pointlessly at the star-speckled sky.

“You’ve learned much,” said he, “but you still only play from the surface. You make whatever noise pleases your ear, and though you can play a note as it ought to be played, you cannot yet put them all together. You cannot be called a player proper until you can play a song the whole way through without a single mistake. It should be like breathing to you.”

            “If it were meant to be like breathing, than I would have been born with six strings in my chest instead of two lungs!” I exclaimed.

            By the time we emerged from the pass, I could no longer see the stars at night, for the whole sky was filled with black, thick smoke that blotted out even the light of the moon. The ground beneath us would freeze and night when I slept, and I had wrap myself in one of the crew’s blankets. Not only the nights were cold now, either. During the day, I could see the silvery plumes of my breath well into the afternoon, and sometimes frost would remain settled on the ground until nearly noon.

            Our first night on the other side, Omar approached me, a blanket slung across her arms. “Here,” she said.

            In confusion, I gazed at the blanket. “I already have one, Omar.”

            “You’ll be needing another soon,” she said. “Also, I wish for you to sleep by the campfire from now on.”

            “I’ve no trouble sleeping beneath the wagons, Milady.”

            “It’s not for you I ask. We may have left the Augustinians behind, but they are not the only dangerous things here. Once you leave the heart of Augustine, all sorts of unnamed things creep in the earth’s shady places.

            “What about you?” I asked.

            “I cannot join you; I must remain in my wagon and care for Arachne.”

            I recalled the name from our encounter with the Augustinians. “You’ve made mention of this name before,” I observed. “Who is Arachne?”

            “One of ours,” answered Omar. “A delicate girl -- she does not take well to the change in temperature.”

            With reluctance, I lay down close to the fire, cocooned in my blankets. We’d been on our feet all day, and out of exhaustion my mind reverted to a kind of numbness, where I neither felt nor perceived any sensation.

As I closed my eyes, I saw on the horizon a line of fire, melting into the earth beneath it, and in the midst of the fire I saw an oval of light, shimmering and then disappearing in a flash.

            The next morning, we entered Carmenite. That into which we emerged could not have been more different from the shady green yonder of Augustine.  It was flat and stripped of all vegetation, the soil bleached an unnatural, dusky red. Before us the plains stretched for mile upon mile, with only a few scattered rock formations to break the unnatural homogeny of its surface.

            Denthilde and I were assigned to the task of keeping the horses on track, for the wagons’ wheels would continually become entrenched in the fine, red sands.

            “Always hated this bit myself,” Denthilde grumbled. “It’s rough going and a real bore.”

             Then we heard a shout. Turning, I spotted Kindred sprinting towards us, arms flung out clumsily around her. A flush touched her face, which was glowing with excitement. “Look up! It’s happening!”

            I looked. Up in cloud-veiled sky, a disk of light appeared.

            “What’s happening?” asked Denthilde.

            “Well, how’s about you watch and find out for yourself!” she exclaimed.

            “D****t, Kindred, I don’t bloody well know what’s going on!”

            Just as he said those words, a column of bright lightly slowly descented from the disk, lowering until it touched the mountain’s foot. The moment it made contact, across the plains there blazed a trail of fire, as far in either direction as the eye can spot.

            For a moment, the a bright light consumed us, and nothing could be seen. Then, as the light faded, I saw robbed in armour of gold the Lady of Heaven herself, Sol. All about her floated locks of golden hair, wild and unbound. Her burning skin was pale as ivory, and her head bore a helmet carved of gold and bronze, with a bright silver feather that jutted from the top. Her eyes were consumed in fire, flashing to and fro as she scanned the empty plain. Her feet were swathed in bright-shinning sandals, which wrapped around her feet and legs and disappeared beneath her billowing skirts. Brightest of all her garment was the sword she held -- it was forged of no mortal steel but blazed as brightly as the sun during the day. She bore with her no shield -- and why would she? What creature mortal or immortal could come against this monstrosity of a woman, so fair and yet so frightening? Against her, all the black-bellied hordes of Augustinians would seem no more than a nest of ants!

            Slowly did Sol turn about, surveying her domain. When she cast her eyes in our direction, a sudden fright o’er came me, and I plunged beneath one of the wagons so that she would not see me.

            When Sol’s gaze met with our caravan, she paused (my heart nearly bursting!), then turned and moved on westward, her sword sending up trails of smoke behind her. When she reached the tallest mountain, she drew that sword and smote it three times against the mountain’s charred face, and three times the sword sparked and sent up belches of smoke. Thus she sharpened the edgeless blade, as a carver does his knife upon a granite stone.

            Then she whipped her head around, golden hair swishing against her shoulders, and strode away. How great in size Sol was! Those mountains could have been stacked one atop the other, and they would still not crown her height!

            After she’d left, I emerged from beneath the carriage and joined the others, who all stood together in awe, except Orchid.

            “It gets old after the first time,” said he. “The sorry b***h didn’t even stop to have a word or two with me!”

            As we walked on, I kept glancing over my shoulder at the mountain face where Sol had sharpened her sword. Still it continued to smoke, though it was clear enough for me to see the deep, black scar in the mountain’s face Sol’s strokes had left behind. It caused me to wonder what sort of damage a woman of that stature could thrust upon the world, should all her rage be at once vented!

Though I’d seen Sol, somehow I still felt just irreligious as before. To my eyes, she did not appear a god -- a being of astounding proportion and power, yes, but not a god. Her sword, after all, grew as dull as any of its mortal brethren, and needed to be sharpened upon earthly materials. Furthermore, there was something almost childish in raining torment down upon the Northern Augustinians by stripping their forests bare and letting them to starve day by day. I decided there was no honour in worshiping such a god as she, if a god she was.

            We continued across the desert plain, and on the second day I heard the sound of rushing water somewhere ahead, and smelt for the first time in days the scent of grass and vegetation.

            That night, Orchid stood before the fire and addressed us, saying, “Tomorrow we reach the River Twynn. We’ve strayed further east than I’d ‘ave liked. Let’s get us to the river’s edge first -- we’re running low on ale, and we’ll neat something to whet our clocks with! From there we’ll head up north-west and scout out the bridge. Look alive! We’re nearly there!”

            When we came upon the Twynn the following morn, Sol had yet to attain her Zenith. The valley through which we traveled lay in shadow, and across it cleaved the Twynn like a cold black vein. Even before I saw the thrashing waters, I knew the Twynn was nigh; I could smell damp mud and river brine.  

To the east, the river disappeared under the veil of mist-shorn hillocks on the northern shore, which rose and fell in cragged undulations. A trick of perspective made it seem as though these touched the hazy violet renderings of Hellstooth’s eastern leg, but I knew we’d left Augustine’s border long behind us, an entire day’s journey away from the shore upon which we now stood. To the west, my view of the south side of the river was obscured by a hill, but on the north shore there stretched before us a great flat plain, which buffeted against the collection of hills eastward, but expanded northward and westward as far as my eyes could see.

Lichen-covered boulders were heaped along the riverbank, and on one of these I found a comfortable perch. Below, I watched the others pantomime drawing water and leading the horses to drink, their words lost to me over the thundering voice of black-bellied Twynn.

However long I watched, I could not bring myself to go even one step closer to the river. Mistake me not: a fear not death. I’ve seen many die, and these two hands have spilt their share of blood. But herein I shall confess that the thought of dying, at the time, inspired certain dread in my. By dying, I mean all pains and groans which proceed death. There is a natural violence in the act of rending soul from body which makes the act of dying repulsive to me. Death by drowning, in particular, strikes the most fear in my breast. We can moderate the pain of illness with medicine, or of violence by giving up the body to the captor’s stroke for a quick demise, but drowning is an enemy which knows not the mercies of war. So bent is it on the destruction of man, that it totally encloses him in its violence, so that he can neither raise his head above it nor sink below it.

Drowning aside, now that we were in what Orchid referred to as “no-man’s land”, I felt a great deal safer. Absent here were the threatening shadows of the malevolent deities I had been raised to fear. Whatsmore, the north shore of the Twynn, where our destination lay, was already within sight. Having just escaped Sol’s lands, I thought little of the dangers I might find in the lands of man.

How wrong I was!

“Be still, if you know what’s best for you!”

From up over the hills, and entire company of men had sprung, their rifles aimed at our troop. They were dressed in northern garb, though from the state of their clothes I judged that hey recently been caught in an altercation.

Orchid stepped forward, spreading his hands out. “We-e-ell! You blokes seem awfully trained-up for highwaymen. Has the Ambitan guard gotten bored of handin’ out knocks under the dome?”

The man nearest Orchid barred his teeth and gestured at our leader with his rifle. “You shut yer dirty mouth, vagrant!”

“Bennett, that’s quite enough out of you!” one of the men ordered. “Gentlemen, your weapons -- and your manners -- please.”

As soon as he’d spoken, the attacking band lowered their guard, and the man strode out to meet us. He was not dressed as the others were, but donned a long, scarlet overcoat with twinkling silver buttons and golden epaulettes. On his head rested a black barrette on which was displayed numerous pins and badges. His complexion, I noted, was dark, though he spoke and acted like a Northerner, and unlike the golden hair of the Augustinians his hair was black and trimmed with a military preference for uniformity and neatness.

“We’re not with the guard, brothers,” the man explained. “My men and I are Crowns. We rally for the office of Porphyry the Wise, and for the destruction of the ballot and the council. We march under the banner of the red army, over which I am captain -- the name is Emir Bonaventure, and if you’re not foe, you’ll find me at your service.”

Suddenly, Gulliver grabbed his brother’s arm. “Did you hear that, Rups? Hey, Emir! I ‘aven’t seen you see the army days, old friend!”

            Before Rupheo could reply, Emir was upon them both, embracing them as old friends do when many an unmerciful season comes between them. The color of Rupheo’s face came precariously close to the shade of Emir’s coat.

            “You rascals!” Emir exclaimed. “I’d thought for sure Luna had carried you off! Boys, stand down and bring this lot something stronger to drink -- any friend of these two’s a friend to us! And -- Sarah! You look beautiful as always, dear. Glad to see you boys holding out for old Porphyry and his gang.”

            As Emir leaned in to give Sarah a kiss, I slipped down from my perch to stand at Kindred’s side.

            “Do you have the faintest idea what’s going on?” I whispered. “Who are these men?”

            “Not the faintest,” she answered. “But hey, free ale! I’m all for that.”

            Orchid, however, was having none of it.

            “Good on you boys, having yourselves a reunion!” he snapped. “But I’d like to know what the hell you Crowns think you’re doing this far South! Last I heard gabbed, your coveted throne was on Ambitan turf.”

            For a moment, I feared Orchid’s outburst would cost our lifeblood, but Emir dismissed him with an easy smile, which he continued to wear as he gave his account: “It’s been an important year for the Crowns. We’ve gotten the students on our side, and some of the poor. But the middle class isn’t budging. They don’t want to give up their vote, or that swill of waste they call their council, so they’ve aligned themselves with one of the counselors, Luciphius -- they call themselves the Luciphytes. I couldn’t tell you who’s the puppet and who’s the puppeteer in that one, but they’ve been tightening up security in Ambitus lately.

            Just a fortnight ago, a sauced group of students, some of ours -- whatever possessed them, I won’t ever know -- marched out against the citadel in arms, threatening a coup if the Crowns weren’t given official party status by the state. There was panic among the Luciphytes that President Onslow would hear their demands, and that the students and lower class would be enough to vote the Crowns in in the next election, so they appealed to the council, which together with Luciphius and his allies was able to sway Onslow into believing that the only proper response to give would be one of retaliation.

            And retaliation is what we got, too! There’s been mass arrests on the streets of anyone affiliated directly with the Crown party, even if they weren’t involved in the demonstration. I managed to pull most of my men out of the city, but guards have been sent out beyond the dome to make arrests. We’ve been forced to scatter ourselves to preserve our number; we’ve no other choice until matters in the city come to a calm.

            The only reason we put you to the guns was because we feared you members of the guard. And you have to admit, traveler -- you look suspicious this far east. A bit off the road, aren’t you?”

            “That,” Orchid answered, “is none of your business. Gents, lads -- you’ve given us a choice reception, but I’m ‘fraid we’ve got to make the bridge by nightfall. Don’t want them closing the gates on our noses.”

            Gulliver seemed positively crestfallen at Orchid’s response, and implored him by saying, “I don’t see harm in staying just a wee longer, sir! We’re in good company.”

            “Not another word; you and your brother wish your dear sweet captain goodbye, or it’s both your hides.”

            While half the troop grumbled at being so swiftly put upon the road once more, Emir took everything in gracious stride, embracing both Rupheo and Gulliver one last time, saying unto them, “Now my lads, don’t be glum. The days comes to quick when our cause will bring us together again. But for now, let’s not delay your ring master -- I bid you all adieu. Men! Move out!”

            And so the captain ordered; his men obeyed, slipping back over the apex of the hill whence they came, and in seconds it was as though they had never been there at all!

            Later, before we reached the bridge, I overheard Orchid speak to the brothers, so I hastened to conceal myself on the other side of the wagon by which they walked in order to eavesdrop in on their words. It wasn’t any malicious conniving on my part that made me do it. In those days, when all the world was bright and unplow’d, I was possessed by an obnoxious curiosity to know everything, even when it was none of my business.

            “Funny,” I overheard Orchid remark, “I’d of sworn you boys had said you’d cut ties with the red-throats by now.”

            “Look now,” Gulliver replied, “I’ve got many friends under that banner  you’re bashing.”

            “Oh shut up, Gulliver. You’re your brother’s placid puppy; it’s his spin I want to hear. So tell me, Rups -- been seeing any of your Crown buddies lately?”

            “In fact, I haven’t,” came another reply -- this time from Rupheo. “But even if I haven’t actively pursued my own interests, I’m still a Crown to the thick. If Gulliver’s followed me in my folly, then so be it.”

            “S’an awfully dangerous time to be a Crown, Rups.”

            “It’s a dangerous time to be anybody but a senator, frankly.”

            Orchid chortled. “Don’t play me a smart one. I just don’t want your ties coming back to bite the rest of us up the arse -- that’s the long and short of it.”

            From the men’s conversation, I profited little, gaining only bewilderment at learning that even the cities of the north men could prove dangerous. Of course, my knowledge of Ambitan politics at that time was non-existent; I imagined it a happy place, ruled as the lands of my childhood had been ruled by a peaceful anarchy of solidarity and pleasure. How could I have known of the problems of urban density, and political organisms its organization created? Or how could I have known of the fractures which cleaved man in twain from his fellows, though they might be born of the same city, class, and race -- fractures which, as the years went by, would seem as deep and divisive as to me as the cleft that drove apart the hemispheres of summer and winter?