The Last Heroes Before Judgement (23 page)

I was trotting along the high road for hours before tripping hard. My foot slipped on a collection of broken arrows. Luckily, my elbows shed their skin so that the chest went unharmed.

“Owie, owie, owie!”

There was no one to call to for a hand, and no sunlight with which to heal. Whomever had unleashed the altered Drakkah cartridge earlier had done a much better job of hiding than we had. Bits of arrow and rock were scattered all about and still there was no trace of the unsung hero. From my position, there was no seeing all the way back to our little mountain, and no sign of Major Swiftblade.

“Right, out of time and all…”

My arms were bloody. I barely found the strength to go on. My feet were already blistered and there was no point in going so far only to turn back. Ambassador Crow’s top-knot was still safely tucked into my gauntlet. I begged his spirit to imbue me with strength.

With the bright green lights pretending to be clouds, I could see the exact point where the glacier ran closest to the pinch point. The ice line receded west and haunted me from a distance through the night. It pushed cold air into my side, enlightening me to just how much more difficult the return trip would be. The wind only got worse as the sun began to rise in the east. My legs managed to carry me onward, though, I could not recall most of the trip. Major Bloodaxe had trained us to run in our sleep. To my surprise, I had done just that.

The road met its perpendicular pair at a low point where all the mountains died. The rock face declined lower and lowered the glacier itself. At that area of the sea, the ice was only a small hill that appeared to be floating on the waves. There was no snow, but the wind picked up in speed and froze me stiff. There I was, out in the open and all alone, completely profiling myself in full view of all four directions. Though any man on the road could have seen me for miles, the same went for my view of incoming strangers. I finally sat down.

The sand made a gritty layer on the pavement but I daren’t find a more comfortable spot. My muscles screamed at me for stretching them without first watering them. They left me with no choice. As if everyone I knew were watching, I got naked as quickly as I could. I piled my armor up over the chest and ran for the shore. The water was cold enough to turn my lips blue but the temperature difference meant the salt level was low enough to drink. Rather, that’s what I hoped while drinking my fill. I kept my eyes open, searching the whole time for any approaching creepers. Once the cold had eased the ache in my joints, I ran back to my shell just as quickly.

The only beasts I caught a glimpse of was a traveling pack of armored cave beavers. They rolled so quickly across the road that I mistook them for runaway cart wheels. Funnily enough, I turned away from them out of instinct, as I was still air drying in my bares. The sun crested in the east and I shook the cold off with a final shudder. My blisters burst and the sand burned something awful while healing. A hunger set in when I got dressed that drove me to imagine felling the nearest tree and eating that poor sloth raw like a monster. She was made uncomfortable by my hungry eyes and turned away to drop dung in my general direction.

“Sorry lady. Ugh. No manners at all…”

The loneliness was already driving me mad. The moment my feet were ready to be booted, I got back on the move. Past the low intersection was a hill rising up just high enough to hide everything beyond. The road headed east would have led me to the Rahara International Causeway. Everything south of the road was therefore, off-limits contested states. No matter how nice Ambassador Crow had been to me, the southern tribes were not known for their hospitality towards grey skins. One slip of the tongue, and I was sure to find a quick measure of their mercy.

With that thought in mind, I stopped at the top of the first hill. Looking around, I saw no further signs of men. The pine needle gave way to the spring loving leaf, and the deep scarlet hue of the north had turned to a sea of bright greens and blues. However pristine and untouched it appeared, I could smell wood burning somewhere. And, not seeing any smoke, I knew it to be the last breath of someone’s campfire. When only one twig snaps, you can be sure you are being watched. Then I sneezed from all the pollen. They were waiting for any distraction. I ran as fast as I could, but I only ran further into their trap.

Arrows rained down on me from all sides. Though they gleaned off of my shells, the ropes they were attached to caught me up in a web and I tumbled to the ground. The arrows continued to cover me in rope. Then I heard the hooves moving in. Only three horned mega steeds could fit on the paved road. They circled around like hungry sharks and the webbed ropes grew tighter about my exposed skin. I tried to bite my way through to no avail. The men were hidden on top of the steeds and all I could see was their slowly disappearing feet. The riders were barefoot.

“Stop. Help me, I-”

“He speaks Lanteeni.”

“Looks Swillian to me.”

“I can understand. Ha! You are Chron? Thank the gods, it’s the Chron!”

I leaned into the chest and fell over. From the ground my hair covered over my eyes and I shook my head until they stopped tightening the ropes. They continued circle while someone called for their officer at the sight of my golden hilt.

“A survivor?”

“Can’t say.”

“He’s a Swillian.”

“But he has a hilt?”

“Yes, both. Long story. Let me up, I can explain.”

“I say we cut off his head and see which tribe of grey skins comes to claim the body.”

“What? No! Your plan won’t work. No one will come for me.”

Someone on the ground drew a blade and delighted at my struggle. They chuckled at my weak attempt and poked me with spears to see if the bloodlust would consume me in the way it always would a Swillian pure blood. I was scared and alone, but not nearly angry enough to conjure that demon. While they threw out more ideas to see how I might react, I wiggled free of my armor. The chest and back shell were tightly wound in their ropes but I was able to crawl out from under the whole mess. They stopped laughing when I escaped, though I did not attempt to flee. The man standing in the middle of their trap with me was more impressed than angry. My grin went wide. I did my best to appear more professionally in regards to the mission.

“Sir, Cadet Matthius. I am here to represent the UNF and pay tribute to the mighty-”

“Where is Crow?”

He held up his hand to stop my mouth so I grabbed his wrist and held it out flat.

“They got him sir. We were delayed by a bear-kin army.”

“Where is Crow?”

Standing in the way of the sun, the Chron officer appeared ten feet tall. However, when Master Crow’s top knot hit his hand, he shrank down to the size of a man. He slammed his hand on my shoulder, not like a mentor, but for stability. The black tattooed sun on his lips quivered, though he refused to shed a single tear. Instead, all of his muscles tightened and he shook from a rage. He began screaming into the sky and his men followed his lead.

“Roan! Roan! Roan!”

“Roan!”

“Roan? Sir?”

They no longer paid me any mind. The forest erupted with many others echoing the call. Their officer held the top knot by his heart and, with a final cry, ran to his steed. He was off, headed south at full speed, and his men were right behind him. At best, I understood the meaning of the act. They were calling out to the gods for strength in their quest for vengeance. In their anger, they had forgotten the chest for which they had the only key.

“Wait! Wait for me!”

I quickly donned my armor and snatched up the chest. By the time I crested the next hill, they were completely gone. The glacier began climbing back out of the sea and the road kept going on the west side of the revived mountain range. After making the next hill and finding the road was still empty, I doubled back. They left no hoof prints, but, there was only one opening in the trees wide enough for them to slip through. I followed as best as I could and eventually spilled out onto a hidden path. Just like Rahara International Causeway, the riverside pathway was cut out of the rock high above the water line where the river had cut a deep gorge over time. Some fisherman were still in the water. The few that looked up either did not see me clearly or simply decided I posed no threat to their mighty nation. Without a guide, and without an invitation, I was the one whom should have been afraid. However, Ambassador Crow had died trying to get the chest to his people, so I ran southeast into the Chron lands expecting mercy.

The sun was in full view when I finally came upon an archway on the road. They had no doors with which to shut me out. The moment I crossed that threshold, the roped arrows flooded in from all around. This time, I was not given the opportunity to explain or escape. Their deadly trap swung a massive tree trunk that rolled over my back shell. They were very surprised that I had survived. Then, someone finally gathered the wherewithal to simply knock me out cold.

“No fair, I was dead tired.”

The man pacing around my limp body knelt down. He was close, but I was hogtied and could barely see under the edge of my blindfold.

“That is the second time you escaped death today.”

“The Chron cannot hurt me.”

“You believe us to be weak?”

He interrupted and grabbed me by both shoulders, propping me up on my knees as though I were no heavier than a child. He shook me and growled for a response. I waited for him to go silent the way Major Bloodaxe would have done.

“Ambassador Crow’s spirit is protecting me.”

“Is he now?”

“I’m honor bound to complete his mission sir. Oh no, the chest.”

I struggled, falling forward like a fool. He removed the blindfold. I was speaking to the same officer from the road, an older warrior with grey stripes in his mane. We were not alone. We were, however, the only ones on the ground floor. Beside us was a great fire pit, blocking my view of the exit. The crowd was no mob of commoners, they were elders from the many sects of the massive Chron Nation. Every man and woman that watched had the same lip tattoo of a black sun. I cringed just imagining the pain of such an act, and they had undergone the process many times over the years in order to retain the sharp outline against their wrinkled skin.

“What do you know of honor?”

“I know if I had none, then Master Crow would not have respected my opinion. I could have taken the chest for myself.”

“You did.

“I brought it straight to you without stopping to rest- except for that one time. And, I am so hungry. I have no water. I carry no weapons. Please, I am unarmed.”

“What thoughts do you have that would interest a man like Crow?”

“Feed me or kill me. I cannot go on like this.”

“What do you hide?”

“Please, I’m so hungry!”

“Answer me!”

The man was serious. His eyes seemed familiar, and they were the only ones not filled with hate. It became clear that they were still deciding whether or not to keep me alive.

“The Unified Nations of Freemen is raising an army. War is upon us.”

“So, judgement has come for the Lantos. He has come to beg for aid.”

He turned to his brothers and sisters, equally of high stature and regard. In undecipherable language, he explained that the Lantos were preparing for war. Most of his words were lost to me, something about a final gift, or a final test. Whatever it meant, they all agreed that we were weak, or that we would fail. Oddly enough, they untied me, and began chatting amongst themselves as though I were no longer there. Each member of the strange council was bragging to the others about the fighting prowess of their sons and daughters.

“Are you going to war as well? Sir?”

The officer led me out of the large dome while I caught small bits of insults in Lanteeni.

“Silence. The council will make those decisions in private.”

“Get that scum out of my sight.”

“Sounds like something a spy would ask.”

Once outside, I looked right into the sun and went blind.

“Ah! It’s so bright!”

“The allFather shines brightest on his favorite children.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. Finally, I am in Hi-yadora, land of the giants.”

I stepped out of the way and opened my arms wide. The sunlight felt warm on my hilt and hot everywhere else. My back even grew hot and I nearly jumped out of my own skin at the thought of having lost my armor. The officer was sitting on my shell and playing Crow’s top knot through his long fingers. I went back to soaking up the sun and focused on healing my stomach ache while the council continued to deliberate.

A messenger walked out of the dome and nodded to the man in charge of my life. He stood, looking down at me from his position, a whole head taller than Daaron. In fact, most of them were. My breath fled in fear but he was only moving off of my gear. His knife hand angrily pointed to the shells and I scrambled to get dressed before they changed their minds.

Alive but starving, dressed but dirty, not a prisoner but still unwelcome. Besides a few easy conversational phrases, I knew nothing of the Chron language. The man caught me staring down at Master Crow’s top knot so he stuffed it into his vest, a black leather made from the hide of a horned mega steed. He likely rode one with no saddle, and made it seem like a little pony.

“Move.”

He used a knife hand like Major Swiftblade and even pushed me with it as I passed. The paved road went on south for a bit before spilling out into an open plateau enclosed in short trees and mostly tan bushes. The feeling in my nose told me that we were in the highlands. Standing in that courtyard, I was closer to the clouds than most birds would ever fly.

“Sit. Do not speak. Do not move.”

Though the officer felt no need to let me be sacrificed, he clearly did not appreciate having me in his charge. For once, I kept my mouth shut and my head down. I tried to ignore the people best I could because every flick of the eyes in their direction showed me ever more angry glares. More Chron giants and their women folk were gathering on the plateau. They joined me in sitting on the raised outer rim. With the path back to their residence just beside me, I was the first thing they saw on their way up. I daren’t look back for that officer, just as no one dared to speak above a whisper. The trail continued in an arc around my seat and climbed further up the rock to a viewing platform raised dais. I still had a chance be sacrificed.

Most of the military age members of the tribe, both men and women, were also tattooed on the lips. They were marked similarly in other areas of soft tissue, like the nearly exposed bone of the inner arm, where it would be most painful. As soon as I saw the difference in attire, the separation between the active warrior class and civilians became clearer. They all wore dress crafted of the leather from a horned steed but the soldiers wore a specialized skirted and tapered version made from the flexible rounded hide off the beast’s massive hips. Some even weaved belts underneath to carry an unnecessary amount of throwing knives. Only the children were adorned with strings of pearls. They played with miniature molds of creatures, made from solid gold. They were not allowed to stay on the plateau for very long. Unafraid, one child even blessed me with food before diving away behind the bushes.

The strange sloth cake had a smooth rind and no smell. I smashed it open too recklessly and made a mess on my hands. My first mouthful was- surprisingly- not sour at all. The dark green innards were very juicy instead, and it made me drool while I slurped it up. The thin rind added a very nice crunch, but, judging by the giggles of the children watching from behind the bushes, only a foolish barbarian would be so crude as to eat the whole thing. Unlike any melon I had ever seen, I was left holding a single seed the size of my own eye. One of the soldiers, a boy no older than Omar, leaned over his mate to catch my attention.

“Boy. You. Yes.”

“Sir?”

“Why you not finish?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“You offend my people.”

“Oh no, wait.”

I had to slam the seed on the ground several times before it would crack. I quickly opened it up and ate the thick wood flavored innards. I was gnawing on the shell when everyone began to laugh. People were pointing. I did not hide it from them, as it was much better than the silent fear. One of the children ran back to me and held up the spoon that had been dropped at my feet. She raised it as high as she could and ran around shrieking at how silly I was. Then the children were fully ushered away. The only people who remained were either seated on the low wall or backed against it on the ground. The way was cleared for the entrance of a man with great age and prestige. The officer followed behind the small party of servants and instructed me how to react. They pulled the old man around the courtyard in a cart of only two wheels. As he passed, people bowed and he blessed them with smoke and flower petals.

“On your knees, now.”

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t speak.”

“Mmm.”

The old one had no legs left below the knees. They moved him to a cushioned disk, and he was carried to sit before me.

“Bow.”

I bowed to the man and he took my hands in his. He inspected them deeply, though I don’t know how, as his eyes were searching in two completely different directions. He pushed my thumb and pinky together, forcing the extra tendon to the surface. Spots or not, it proved my recent ancestry to the club wielding cavemen, causing gasps amongst his servants.

“Swillian.”

Few centuries had passed since they moved south into the black forest of old, and conquered the unlimited supply of trees for their endless fleet. They appeared on the shores of all the world, even reaching Hi-yadora. They came only once, and then never made that mistake again. He spit on my hands and threw them to the ground. Then he dragged his heavy fingers down my palms to the tips of my fingers, and took a breath through the nose. I lifted my head, as he lifted his to look at the officer in charge of my life.

“The little boy did not kill your sister’s son.”

“Thank you, Master Shaman.”

“Silence boy. Your presence here is finished. Thank you, Grandfather”

The officer grabbed my shoulder as though I were a tiny babe and pulled me to my feet. He would have continued, but the Shaman held out his left hand. Still looking up and away, his right finger found exactly the Swillian spot on my chin and he clucked his tongue loudly upon impact.

“The spirits brought him here for a reason my child.”

The Shaman stretched out his arms and his attendees brought forth his wooden legs.

“Malta, you must understand…”

He grunted as he was pulled to stand. Even on false legs, he was twice my height.

“Uhn, the gods of two worlds mourn this day.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

I followed them up the path to a bloodstained sacrificial table. It was the right shape to hold one of their long bodies, but it went empty. I knelt as they prayed and hummed. The words were lost to me, but every tribe has a similar tale of the final journey to the other world. I saw the bounty of the nation from that small overlook. The rolling valleys had been cultivated for centuries and the orchards had long found their balance with the surrounding forest. Their striped buzzing bees were so massive that they could be seen flying back and forth from hundreds of yards away. Many miles to the southeast, I saw massive clouds of dust billowing up. From the size of the clouds, I would say the Chron armies were amassing for a war. The giant crow circled them in excited expectation of freshly slain enemies upon which they prefer to feed.

“And now, you. Stand before the bed.”

“Come boy, come.”

The Shaman pulled me to him and used both of my shoulders to steady himself. He took several strained breaths and nodded to Malta. Half of Ambassador Crow’s hair was on the table already. It was joined by its twin and laid out straight. I worried it would blow away, but dared not speak out of turn.

“Mmm.”

The Shaman held his hand firmly against my hilt and somehow discovered my name.

“Matthius, son of Gojinus.”

“Yes sir, Master Shaman.”

“Crow’s father was a grey skin. Your goddess, the Mother Moon. Uhn, she brought you here, to bring him home. Now, the prayer for peace.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

It was strange how the man had just learned so much about me. They had obviously interacted with the Lanteeni hilts before. His show of power, and that of those Shaman that had come before him, were likely the reason the Chron refused the implants in the first place. I had to shake myself to attention and focus hard to remember the moon worshipper’s prayer. The last time I had heard it, Ambassador Crow was saying goodbye to Johnny the Knuckle.

“Sorry, I’m ready.”

As silly as it made me feel, poor Malta was squirming for me to get on with it.

“Her light shone through the darkness,

And evil was extinguished from the land.

The rivers turned blue and birthed fish,

And the desert waste gave way to the forest green.

Behold I am become peace,

The savior of worlds.”

The simple rhyme had never before struck me so deeply as to cry.

“It’s about him? Was Master Crow the chosen one sir?”

“Many believed. Now, we will never know.”

We waited silently as birds gathered in the sky. The giant crow saw no meat for their bellies, and went off to join the gathering armies. Finally, some song birds arrived to take away the hair in small clumps. Though the hairs would line few nests, the people were very pleased to see the last piece of him returned to their lands. When the birds had all gone, the cry for Roan began. They let out all their anger towards the west, and the call was echoed until no one had another breath left to spare. I helped Malta carry the Master Shaman back down the path. Once back in his covered seat, he quickly removed his false legs, and he waived me back to his side.

“She told me you would come.”