The Last Heroes Before Judgement (31 page)

The walk back was the most intense hike of my life. I had no breath control from the tear through my midsection. The monster had effectively slowed me to the proper pace of a land turtle. The sun would not rise for some time. When it finally did, the cloud cover was prepared to block any chance of reprieve. My sweat dripped down into my vest and burned the fresh wounds. Every time I stopped to tighten the straps, I let out a growl that silenced the bugs. In the time between stops, my mind drifted in and out of sleep. It was a good practice that took over when I needed it most as it blocked out all of the pain. By the time I reached the paved road, the red night had been washed away by a dark grey overcast. The frozen north flashed lightning in front of my eyes and reminded me to toss the crutches before I got struck.

A long line of scavenger birds circled and dove in turns after the mess I had left for them. The threat no longer stopped the bison, who then washed over the valley headed south. If I had gotten hit by one of the stampeding megas my guts would surely have exploded out. I was so weak that I could not summon the strength to trot in the tall grass after one of the sun’s rays shining through the gathering storm. Worse, I could not deviate from my path, and ended up dragging my feet through many a pile of droppings.

Not long after sunrise, the serpentine came into view. The Lady Dooza and Major Swiftblade were standing on the third tier with their hands on their hips. They yelled as if I could hear them and kept pointing towards the flock of birds. It was obvious that something had indeed been slaughtered. I smiled up at them, expecting to hear all about how they were worried sick. At last, I finished stumbling up the gravel trail. Wearing a smile on my face- as always- was a mistake.

“What have you done?”

“Where have you been?”

“What is so funny?”

“He thinks you are a joke Charles.”

The blood moon had sent him back to base early. Boredom being his worst nightmare, he had stayed up through the night drinking. My hilt hummed at the sight of his swirling horn of wine.

“I need that.”

“Just like you needed to modify your armor.”

“Spikes dipped in lion’s blood. Do you think this is how a Nanu Trap works?”

“Sir?”

“I saw you tossing those reeds aside. You can hide nothing from me.”

“And, whatever mess you made has upset the entire valley.”

They would not listen. I did not have the gut strength to match their volume, nor the internal pressure. I wrestled with the shell and had to lean on Dooza’s wall for support. Once it was off, they both went wide-eyed in disbelief. The sudden loss of weight and increased speed caused me to fall flat on my face.

“You dare to take off your shell- right in front of my eyes.”

“Don’t.”

“You have no respect for authority. No discipline. No shame.”

I crawled towards Major Swiftblade slowly, dragging my hips low to keep pressure on the artery. He shook the wine around in the horn, listening and looking inside to check the level. I estimated that over half remained, and so did he, taking another swig. He placed it on the ground with one hand, brandishing the tiny obelisk from his belt with the other. The moment my hand reached the horn- he grabbed my face. Extending my abdomen backwards tore open what little scabs had formed. I could not speak, or move to stop him. He cut me deep across the chin in a single slice, and then tossed the ceremonial pike into the fire pit. He did not even look me in the eye. He stood and turned to stare at the swarming scavengers.

“And now, once again, I must clean up your mess.”

“Still smiling? Do you have nothing to say for yourself?”

The Lady Dooza bent forward to point her finger at my face from across the fire. She had mistaken my wincing for a laugh, so she was low enough to see what happened next. I tried to speak but, instead, I coughed up a fat clot of blood. It took all the energy I had left to straighten up onto my knees. I took a swig of the wine and swished it around in my mouth. My blood was thin enough, so I spit it and the loose blood into the pit, causing a flare of heat and flame.

“No. I am surprised he waited this long.”

I raised the horn, slowly tilting it over. The wine dribbled onto my chin and burned worse than I thought it would. Major Swiftblade had turned to yell something back. Upon seeing me waste his wine without even drinking it, he stomped over to my back shell. While he was slamming it to knock the spikes off, I slipped my left hand in under my vest. I pushed and squeezed and held my breath. Then I upended the ram’s horn onto the wound. Dooza remained partly skeptical, that is, until I removed my vest. I finished drowning the deep lacerations and held in all the pain. Instead of crying out, when the horn was empty, I fell over on my side. I was dangerously close to the open flame. Dooza gasped and ran around to pull me away but Major Swiftblade did not care for such theatricality.

“Grab him. Charles, help me. Get him up.”

“The baby drank too much? That’s too bad. From now on, he can learn every lesson the hard way!”

“Look at him, damn you. He already has.”

With more wine in my veins than blood, my back arched and my legs shook uncontrollably. My own body refused to aid Dooza in rolling it away from a fiery grave. The old pair of pants ripped apart rather than be used as a handhold. I grit my teeth so hard I expected them to begin cracking loudly one after another. Finally, she ripped the lion’s tooth from my hair and threw it to Major Swiftblade. He stopped pulling on his uniform and looked up at the slashes all down my abdomen. Then he grabbed the long tooth and ran to help Dooza.

Once they had lifted me up, she began a Shaman’s chant. She occasionally stopped to offer directions, but my mind was no longer registering complete words. I know because I was still trying to speak them myself- without any success at all. Wherever she took us, there was even less sun than before. Somehow, the air got hotter. My face got wet with steam. They gently dipped my lifeless body into a hidden hot springs. The temperature was just below hot enough to boil my skin. I thought that it would be a pleasant experience, until the water hit my open wounds. The intense pain gave me the strength to utter a single word.

“Much too late for stitches.”

“Salt!”

“I know child. Hush now.”

The hot salt water was torture, much worse than the wine. The salt content was extremely high, forcing my feet up the deeper I was dipped. I remember the Swiftblade walking away as my weight disappeared from the unbelievable buoyancy. Dooza continued to hum strange tunes and finished with me quickly thereafter. I heard her walk away, but I was still floating. The heat relaxed my muscles and the salt held me in place. Though my blood had stained the water around it, the salt crystalized over all of my skin- especially the pink torn flesh. Eventually, the pain subsided, and my breathing slowed. Then I took the longest nap of my life.

I slept the entire day without a single dream. The lacerations had healed enough to stop bleeding. The lion’s claws had left a tree outlined on my body with roots spread wide, leading to a thinner trunk around the belly button, and a spreading canopy that disappeared outward after bouncing off the ribs. The eternal storm had decided to roll back east and Mother Moon began to flash through the speeding clouds.

“That’s an awful sad shade of blue. Does that mean you’re sorry?”

The lightning continued to dance around the glaciers. I thought it must have been the flashing gold light from my eyes that woke me. The reflection on the water was so bright I witnessed the anomaly first hand. A full bladder turned out to be the culprit, and I dare not wet a bed made of salt water. Muscles groaned and joints popped and I let out a long growl while righting my body. I grabbed the rock and peered into the thick mist of hot and wet air. My eyes flashed while the thunder rolled in and I frightened a nearby creature.

“You’re safe little one. Come here. I have a treat for you.”

The thing did not believe me. My voice was too rough and I was growling like a predator. After such little time spent healing, I was feeling like a monster as well. Without the heavy armor to pull me down, I was able to launch my body out of the hot spring and land flat on my feet. The dry air and the squeezing punished me for showing for off. I hobbled north toward a tree line and the beast remained frozen stiff. On my way back, I slowly veered in his direction and nearly fell into another pool. One that was filled with Opa. They were all in a trance and staring up at the moon. I stopped dead and was grateful to have already emptied my bladder. Then the light glowed from my eyes and caught their attentions. They slapped at the water and stood up tall- barely breaking the surface. The mist cleared from their flurry of motion and revealed them to be tiny grey and white Opa.

“You have spots- just like me!”

Few of them dared to leave the water, but the younglings ran out to poke my spots and sniff the backs of my hands. Every time my eyes glowed they cheered again, as if I were in control of the power. The thunder rolled in after and convinced them to hide back in the water. The moon was not the only cause for their trance. In the sudden heat wave of the previous day, poisonous mushrooms had grown on the felled logs. The Opa were clearly immune, as they had left piles of them all around the pools.

“Hello?”

The Lady Dooza was crouched down a few pools away. She was smelling the mushrooms and stuffing the clean ones into a jar of honey. She was not expecting company at all. My voice scared her stiff. She stood and spun and cowered all at once.

“What? Nothing. It is medicine.”

“They are not poison?”

“Well, yes. Those ones are.”

“But, the spotted Opa can eat them.”

“Of course. They are still wild things.”

“I think they are more intelligent than that.”

“I agree. They are smart enough to avoid man flesh.”

“They are nice, like Kru.”

“What’s that?”

“My puppy.”

“You are delirious. Get back in the water before you dry out.”

The Shaman made it clear that she was serious before ducking away into the steam and disappearing. One of the Opa dug his face into her discarded pile without fear. Next to his head was a much smaller pile of bright blue caps with purple finger prints left in the stems from where she had pinched them. I knew that she was testing me, but, I could not help myself. Two of them emanated the smell of something grown under a pile of poop. One of them smelled like acorn nuts. The spotted Opa looked up at me and slowly opened his mouth trying to swipe the thing from my hands. I broke off the stem and handed it to him to gauge his reaction. He took a deep whiff and moaned at the sweet flavor. Then he hid it from me, turned away, looked back, and shoved it in his mouth whole.

“Must be good.”

I shrugged and took a bite. The thing mostly tasted like dirt and I understood why Dooza stored it in honey. While I was making a face and coughing from the dryness in my throat, the little Opa stole the rest right out of my hand. I did not protest.

“Enjoy it, little one. I know I didn’t.”

There was a water bowl and a baked egg waiting for me when I returned to my own pool. My stomach was so empty that it I felt completely full from the small meal. Getting back in was harder than getting out. My wounds had indeed dried out, causing the new scabs to crack and burn from the salt all over again. I waited until the pain dulled to lay out flat. By the time I did, the poison was beginning to metabolize. I thought it would help send me into a trance. Unlike the spotted Opa, I could not stare at the moon without it melting into a strange splatter. When I started moaning, Dooza crawled out of the shadows. She hummed strange tunes and played her fingers on the surface of the water. The Shaman could not resist the opportunity to swim in my mind and I had no energy with which to resist. I had heard of the cave root that made you see colors underground, but, once in the dream state she forced me into, there was only blacks and whites and grays- and scarlet. Flowing, glowing, deep red blood. At least, for once, it was not spilling from my body. But then, I was no longer in my body.

“Nojan, please. Ten is too young.”

“Quiet woman, the little barbarian is ready for much more.”

Father knelt down and grabbed my shoulder. He squeezed and I flexed back against his grip. Half of his face twisted into the smile of evil pleasure. His face, that same spotted square jaw worn by Grandfather- Goja the Eleventh.

“Are you ready to prove yourself?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Just in case, say goodbye to your mother.”

“I am no weak boy.”

“Do it because it will make her happy.”

“I see, Father. Dirty Thirteen has no respect for his mother, so no one expects that he will ever show respect to them either.”

“You see that, Tori? That’s why he’s Father’s favorite.”

“Oh, Gojinus. Please be careful.”

I hugged Mother and tried not to turn red at the giggling of my cousins. She was soft with me because she never had a need to be rough in her life. Her fair skin and bright golden locks were rare, and her eyes of blue fire, even more so. Unlike the warrior women that the rest of the royal family took, she was not built to give birth to a giant. Despite her lack of physical prowess, bards from all across the Empire of Swillia sang tunes of her beauty and grace. She even sang herself, like an angel, and it made her Grandmother’s favorite daughter in-law.

“You have no need to worry.”

“But I will- you are still my only child.”

“The only one you will ever need. You will see. Laugh while you can Boagrian- you too will be kneeling before long.”

“Challenge me then, runt.”

“Challenged!”

Mother, like all the other women folk, began sucking her teeth and rolling her eyes. No matter how silly it seemed to them, being the smallest of Emperor Goja’s grandsons meant I would be challenged to prove my worth every day until I took power. The servants moved back a few tables and Gojintu, father to Boagrian, stomped on the flat stone with his steel leg replacement. The back patio of the royal summer home got quiet while we both stretched in preparation.

“You two remind me of us, right Nojan? Alright, knockout or yield. Nothing cheap. Nothing below the belt. On your mark.”

He stomped his steel leg hard backing away. Boagrian was fourteen, and massive for his age. He marched forward with a wide base and prepared to grapple. Too bad for him, and for all of my other cousins, I had been training down on the docks by fighting the sons of poor sailors. For the price of two potatoes per fight, I learned how to take down a man of any size. When he reached out to grab the back of my neck, I feinted a jump. He threw his body higher, so I dropped low and shot my knee forward, to plant my foot under his base. I ended up in his bear hug. Boagrian got over confident and dug his chin into my head to make me cry out in pain. After some squeezing and some pushing back and forth, I managed to grab the rear of his belt with three fingers. I stood up quick, slamming my head into his chin. He flipped back, still holding me tightly, but I spun hard on the way down. When I landed on top of him, my elbow was over his heart. His body went limp, and he snored in the struggling manner of a man who was knocked unconscious. For all his size, no one was cheering for his weakness.

“That’s my boy.”

“Grandfather!”

“Gojinus!”

His servant held his cane and helped him to slightly bend. Not everyone was worth the back pain to earn a hug from the Emperor. Many of the lords clapped and suggested to their sons that they act more like me. It made me laugh heartily, and I refused to hide it.

“Are we in for a show today my boy?”

“Yes Grandfather. I was only warming up.”

He had the booming laughter of a younger man and every fool in attendance knew to join in. His eyes boiled red with the shadow in a display of power that few others could see. I balled a fist and made it boil over with the red shadow. Having Grandfather’s stoic jaw and the same spot of brown on the chin, they were merely expected attributes. He relished in the knowledge that the gods had granted me the power to conjure the red shadow from birth. Many priests and scholars alike told him that it was a sign from the gods that I too would become Emperor.

“Let the games begin.”

I put my fist in the air and roared along with the crowd. I helped Grandfather to his cushioned throne and hugged Grandmother while the other fools rushed to the open field. By the time I caught up to them, all of the spears had been taken. Boagrian had climbed a tree and swung the leaves off his live branch. A few idiots laughed at my misfortune, but the elderly always focus most on the smallest acts of courtesy.

“Shut your mouths. If I had gotten to a spear, I would have given it to one of you idiots. This is no mere game. Every moment of every day is a test.”

I pulled a knife from each boot, the spoils of many hard battles won on the street. I heard a fair share of gasps from the royals, denigrating the runt for using the weapons of a peasant. My cousins lined up on the fence and prepared to rush the yard. The servants would not cut the high grass until we had our race, and the long horn bulls were well fed. Size was the only advantage any of them could claim. I had training, practice, a plan, and the proper tools. I would be the only one to kill a bull, and I would do so on my own. Just to make it harder, Uncle Gojintu launched a flash powder bomb into the yard. Before it could hit the ground, the thing exploded. The noise caused the bulls to go wild and they stampeded into each other in an attempt to flee.

As expected, the first competition was a team formation, whereby some of us were held back to provide an easier hunt for the first born sons. Goja the Thirteenth ran out ahead of the entire pack. Following his orders, his brothers ran to hold me back. I crossed the blades across my chest, daring them to touch me, and walked south towards the open yard. The bulls had bunched up at the thin gate to the next grazing area. After being trampled and horned and squashed too many times, some of them gave up. They ran away in odd directions and turned in a wide arc to avoid us while the traffic subsided. I just kept walking. Spears were thrown and retrieved. Sons were lost to the hoof and the horn. More than one bull was stuck deep. Most of the spears were kicked off, leaving a group of angry and wounded bulls that wanted nothing more than vengeance.

“Yes, glow with the red power of rage. See as Gojinus sees. Oh, nasty.”

One of the older boys was run through in the gut. I heard a woman grunt about her weakest son no longer collecting kittens. She made a joke about turning them into a stew, and Grandfather suggested a heavy peppering with a whole clove of garlic. I laughed along with them but noticed Mother had buried her face into Grandmother’s shoulder. Finally, one of the bulls decided to wait for his escape in my area, as it was mostly unoccupied. He trotted by and tossed his head in a threatening manner.

“Smart boy, respecting your new Emperor early on. May the underKing eat on your flesh tonight, and go to bed satiated by my blade.”

The beast knew my tone and grunted his warning. He continued to trot around the tiny human in a display of his muscular body. He was very surprised to discover just how much practice I had put into throwing knives. His left shoulder took one down to the bone and I put the other between my teeth. He charged to the background of Mother screaming. I weaved back and forth and he slowed from not knowing which way to turn, then I charged him. Both sides of his wide horns fit in my hands and I flipped around the left, over to my right- still holding on. He leaned in to his injured shoulder and I finished the flip by kicking out his front feet. The thing fell hard and his head crushed me to the ground. I gave him a peaceful death. My other knife dug in between the base of his skull, severing the spinal column.

“No more pain. Hush, move on to the other side.”

I pulled on his ear and there was no reaction. When I stood up and the beast stayed down, the whole palace exploded with clapping and cheering. They chanted my name and scrambled to help the Emperor into his wheeled chariot. While a crowd gathered in the yard and approached, I spilled more blood. Rolling the bull onto his side was easy enough. Cutting through his chest was much more difficult. I had to retrieve the knife from the beasts shoulder to pry open his bones. The freshly slaughtered monster occasionally kicked his legs out. Finally, when Grandfather was encouraging me from nearby, I made it to the heart. I cut it out of the animal, squeezing the dull grey muscle until the deep purple arteries were mostly empty. Then I tore into the raw flesh with my teeth barred. The noble hounds were all around barking for their share. I climbed up on top of the bull and raised his heart in the air.