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Hejira: Sanguine Wave

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode 43: Paying Their Dues

Several days after slaughtering the citizens of Ravenswood and enslaving over a dozen women for their own amusement, Balian leads his forces toward the next closest village on his map. A small tribe that is not known to be part of any alliance, Orange Veil are less than a two hour walk away. Marching toward the little town, which isn’t known to have any defenses, his men are ready for battle. The white and black striped Sahvorai man holds the end of a pole that runs over the shoulders of six bound women, whose wrists as lashed to the wooden rod.

“Just you wait until we finish out campaign. One of you lucky whores will be my personal plaything.” He growls.

“Do you have to do that?” A random soldier asks.

“Do what?”

“Berate them. They’re scared enough.” The soldier says.

“Don’t be such a little girl. This is simply how it is, and if you can’t accept-”

An arrow pierces the Sahvorai’s throat from right-to-left, severing both arteries and his vocal cords.

“ATTACK!” Balian roars.

Men and women wearing various armors and carrying diverse weaponry emerge from camouflaged holes dug into the ground. Arrows fly from the trees as the unknown assailants ambush Balian’s men. In a matter of moments, dozens of his soldiers are slaughtered without even drawing a sword. Fire arrows set a carriage ablaze; it was carrying all of their food and medical supplies. Fighting through the ambush, Balian slashes a man before kicking a woman in the stomach and impaling her as she lay on the ground. Her armor bears a painted logo, the icon of the Crooked Trees.

A sword swings as he pulls away, nearing severing his arm. Gashed deeply by the blade, he drops his weapon and falls back. A human man wears leather armor with pauldrons covered in white rabbit’s fur, a trademark symbol of the Sightless Eye tribe. Before the man can finish off Balian, a javelin is thrown by one of his men, spearing him from front to back and sending him reeling.

“Come on!” A soldier yells, dragging the wounded Balian to his feet. “What are your orders?!”

“Retreat!” Balian yells.

His soldier echoes the order and his men soon fall back. Arrows and javelins slaughter them a handful at a time as they try to retreat. A soldier slashes the throats of the imprisoned women out of spite before a Crooked Trees warrior splits his skull in half with a two-handed iron axe. Fleeing into the woods, Adelram’s men are routed by a second ambush. Rising over a nearby hill, three dozen archers fire with impunity behind tall, rectangular shields held by assistants.

Balian and his men dash into the forest in a wild and disorganized fashion. They flee like the brutal thugs that they are, succumbing to an enemy who has thoroughly planned their assault. Even a prepared tribe wouldn’t have been able to stage such an ambush, and if they had, they wouldn’t have such numbers. Realizing that this alliance might be a genuine threat, Balian finds a soldier who is carting several cages on his back like a rucksack. Barely fifteen minutes after the battle had begun, the warriors of ECTO cease, allowing Adelram’s remnants to flee.

Out of nearly eight hundred warriors he has in his group, one hundred and sixty-eight fall to the barrage of arrows and javelins, or are cut down by their enemies. A further one hundred and twelve are wounded, some requiring immediate medical attention; they won’t survive the return to their capitol, or even a night in camp. He tallies his total loses at no less than two hundred, a substantial number with all things considered. They to set up camp, once they realize that they’re not being followed.

Taking hold of the man who wears the cages on his back, Balian quickly retrieves a raven while another man scrawls a message. This particular bird has been trained to return only to the capitol, and wears a tiny collar with a gold disc that has a number on it; this is how Adelram and his men know where the raven came from and who sent the message. Tying the little note to the raven’s right leg, which is inside a tube carved from wood and capped with a small cork, he tosses the bird into the air and watches as it quickly flies away with the message.

“What did you send king Adelram?” A soldier asks.

“I merely warned him of our losses and not to underestimate this enemy.” Balian replies.

“But what of the wounded? Did you ask for reinforcements?!”

“I asked for nothing. I merely carry out my orders to the best of my ability, like any good soldier. As for the wounded, what of them?” Balian snickers.

Sitting at a table with his wife and children the next day and eating dinner, a soldier suddenly barges in. King Adelram sets down his fork and knife in pure frustration, glaring at the soldier.

“What. Is. It?” He grumbles.

“I’m sorry, my Lord, but there’s an important message from Balian.” The soldier replies with a bowed head.

“Ah, another victory? Hand it over.”

Taking hold of the scroll, Adelram looks it over. His joyous expression turns to shock and then to anger. He slams a fist down onto the table at the realization that nearly ten percent of his army has been wiped out in a single ambush. How can this be? He is king Adelram, and he is destined for greatness. Why must they fight so feverishly to oppose him? He turns and glares at the terrified soldier.

“Fetch me writing implements and some parchment.” He orders.

“Yes, my Lord!”

The soldier quickly darts away.

“What happened?” A concerned Padina asks her husband.

“Balian failed me. He was attacked by that alliance while trying to continue his assault. They killed over two hundred of our warriors.” Adelram replies with disgust.

The soldier quickly returns with the supplies that his king had asked for. Padina rises from her seat and approaches her husband as he scrawls something onto the parchment.

“What are you going to do?” She asks.

“I’m recalling Faye. Clearly Balian cannot handle a simple ambush like a man, so I must send our Harbinger to take care of things for him.” Adelram grumbles. “Take this to the ravens and send whichever bird will return to our Harbinger and our troops in the south. This second note is for Balian. Have his raven return to him. DO NOT mix these notes up, or I’ll kill you.” He says to the guards as he hands him the parchment.

“Right away, my Lord!”

He sits down at the table, looking to his children. They look worried, their heads bowed but eyes turned to him. Padina stands behind her husband’s chair and rests her hands on his shoulders. She gently massages him and leans forward. With her snout caressing his cheek, the bear woman kisses her human lover softly.

“Everything will be okay.” She coos.

“Thank you, my love. I always believe you when you say that.” He says with a smile.

“As well you should. I’m not mistaken.”

“You never are.” He chuckles.

Wandering through the forbidden zone, Gareth and the others have seen surprisingly little. To their considerable delight, the forbidden lands aren’t home to the Fallen, or even a single madrogo; the area is void of all sentient life. Riding their horses at a swift but steady gait through a field of lush grass, they see rocky cliffs in the distance. Looking toward the distant cliffs, it’s plain to see that they’ve been altered by human and Sahvorai hands. A large, spherical shape is carved into the rock, with a strange head etched into the cliffside; it’s the head of an angel, like Sahvath.

“There! That looks promising!” Madina chirps.

Turning their horses, they ride toward the ancient structure. Picking up speed, they are soon galloping toward the area atop their horses, rapidly closing the distance between them and what they hope is Sahvath’s first hall. As they draw near, they can see a pedestal with a statuette atop it, identical to the Crystalline Hall, but much older in appearance. Reaching the hall, they find that this sphere is far larger than the previous; only semi-spherical in shape, with a flat platform to walk on, it’s easily twenty meters in diameter.

“I wonder how long it took Sahvath’s worshippers to carve this.” Gareth thinks aloud.

“If this is the first hall, then Sahvath carved it himself... Or so the legend says.” Madina remarks.

Climbing down from their horses, they search for a place to tie them so that they won’t run away. Luckily for them, there is a single nearby tree. Though rather small, it’s live wood, and is easily capable of holding all four horse’s reigns in its thick and sturdy branches. Tying the horses to the tree, they walk nearly one hundred meters back to the structure, stepping onto the platform and approaching the statuette. They all breathe a sigh of relief as they look upon the orb that sits in the statue’s elongated fingers, resting in the palms that are raised high above its elongated head.

They stand around and look at the orb for a moment. Madina and Steve look to each other before glancing to Sarvah and Gareth. Both have met Sahvath before and know what to expect. Gareth notices their stares and turns his head toward them.

“Well? This is your party, Madina. You should do the honors.” He says.

“Really?!” She squeaks with excitement.

“Why not?” Sarvah shrugs.

“D-does it hurt?”

“No.” They collectively respond.

Eagerly and without hesitation, Madina takes hold of the orb. The insides of the crystalline sphere begin to glow and soon they find themselves shrouded in a blinding, white light. The light dissipates and they find that they are standing in a room. Sarvah and Gareth immediately recognize it. Do both orbs send people to the same location? It certainly appears that way. Taking a deep breath, Gareth sighs and crosses his arms, looking at the doorway that leads to the hall and eventually Sahvath’s chambers.

He is the first to step forward, immediately followed by Sarvah, who in turn is followed by a much more nervous and apprehensive Madina and Steve. They wander through the hallway and toward the main chamber, soon passing through a carved archway and finding the familiar long staircase that leads to the throne at the top. Standing at the base of the stairs, Sahvath sits with its head lowered, face buried in its palms and tentacles like dreadlocks running through its fingers.

“Hello again.” Gareth breaks the eerie silence.

“I must admit, I did not anticipate you finding the first orb.” Sahvath’s sepulchral voice echoes throughout the chamber. “Had I realized the extent of your tenacity, I would have simply removed that orb too.”

“We all make our little mistakes.” Gareth quips.

“If only I had the Creator’s omnipotence...” Sahvath laments.

“Please hear me, Sahvath. We have come to seek your help!” Madina begins.

“Then you’ve wasted your time...” It replies.

“Please! There is a kingdom led by a brutal tyrant and spearheaded by a terrible woman with incredible power.”

“I remember her. Such darkness in her heart...” Sahvath sighs.

“They send armies to march against us, seeking to enslave everyone and force them to obey king Adelram’s will. We ask that you help us. Show yourself to them. Make your presence known and stop the war before more innocent lives are lost. Spare them the suffering.” Madina pleads.

“No.”

“... Wha?”

“This is not the first time this has occurred. The first war was led by powerful warriors with strong auras as well. Different reasons but with similar results. I was forced to scatter the humans to one side and the Sahvorai to the other. It took several centuries but the central lands became a peaceful and integrated hub; I was quite proud, but I knew it wouldn’t last. There is nothing that I can do to truly solve your problem; it’s in your nature to fight and to die, and it would accomplish nothing in the grand scheme of things to spare you.” Sahvath explains.

Madina cannot believe her ears. She was certain that Sahvath would hear her words and feel her pain; it wouldn’t so callously disregard the suffering of others as it is.

“But you can help! You have the power to stop this!” She pleads.

“I will not murder them for you, nor do I wish to slaughter an army.” Sahvath begins.

Madina’s eyes grow wide.

“Your mind is open to me; I understand what you believe is required to truly end this war.” Sahvath continues.

“Some people are so twisted and evil that they’re not worthy of living.” Sarvah remarks.

“And you are fit to judge them? I know what you have done, Sarvah. You are not clean either.” Sahvath snaps.

“Helping us would put an end to them and allow the rest of us to live in peace. There are so many innocents who will die; you could save them.” Steve adds.

“It would be of no use.” Sahvath says with a sigh.

“Feel free to join us anytime.” Sarvah turns to Gareth.

“Why?” Gareth glances to her.

“He understands, young one. For his own youth, he is wise beyond his years. He knows that it’s futile.” Sahvath says.

“Is that true?!” A teary-eyed Madina turns to Gareth.

Gareth chuckles, shaking his head and climbing the first few steps. He points a finger at the fallen angel, judging the powerful creature.

“You’re Sahvath, not the Creator; you have limitations. I was thinking ‘it’s futile’, but not that we would lose the war. I was thinking ‘it’s futile to persuade such a pitiful creature.” Gareth says.

“Excuse me?” Sahvath raises its head, glaring at Gareth with its solid black eyes.

“You heard me. You were once and angel of light, a servant of the Almighty. You made a mistake and you fell from grace, and one day you’ll pay for it, but your inaction is only proving how undeserving you are. You created this world to hide from punishment rather than accept it, you repent when alone but never sought out your Creator to tell Him that; these are all things a child would do. You formed creatures in an attempt to create a sentient lifeform of your own but failed, and then you didn’t even destroy them.

You simply let them roam free to maim and slaughter innocent people. You used your power to bring His creations, humanity, to this world to be your playthings. You picked sides by gifting those who followed you, and punished those who didn’t with inaction; you created the Sahvorai and allowed them to massacre humans during the first war. When they pleaded for you to help them, what did you do? Did you stop it with your power? You could have, but you didn’t. You fled into this dungeon to weep over your upcoming judgement for centuries and let the war run its course.

You thought you could become Him, but you failed. All you are is a frightened child... And I pity you.”

Everyone, even Sahvath, stand in awe at Gareth’s little speech. None have ever had the courage to speak to him in such a manner, and to Sahvath’s surprise, Gareth words hurt almost as much as his own depression born from betraying his Creator. Standing tall before his throne, the fallen angel turns its head down in shame. A single tear runs from its eye and down its ghostly white cheek. The others are incapable of seeing it from their distance, but it certainly appears depressed.

“Come on, everyone. Let’s go. We have a war to fight.” Gareth says to the others, resting his hand on Sarvah’s back. “We’ll show ourselves out.” He says to Sahvath as he leads them back to the hall.

Upon reaching the main room, they stand around in a circle. After waiting for a few seconds, Sahvath sends them away. The find themselves standing around the pedestal after being teleported back outside. To no one’s surprise, the orb that was once clenched tightly in the statuette’s grasp is now missing.

“Well, that was very productive!” Gareth chirps.

“I-I just can’t believe it... I was so sure that Sahvath would care...” Madina chokes out.

“It’ll be okay.” Steve says, gently rubbing her back.

Leading her away from the pedestal, they walk back to the horses, which stand patiently waiting for them to return. As they move toward the creatures, Madina stops and sits down on the edge of the platform. She wraps her arms around her legs, which she brings to her chest before resting her forehead on her knees.

“We could have been doing something really productive. I’m sorry I wasted everyone’s time... I’m so stupid.” Madina says through her tears.

“You’re not stupid. You did what you thought was best, and it was a good plan.” Steve says, sitting beside her and wrapping his arms around her. “Gareth’s right; Sahvath is nothing but a pitiful little child. We’ll survive this without his help.”

“Will we?” She sniffles, leaning into him.

“Yeah. We’ll make it out of this alright, and once we win this war and stop that psycho of a king and his murderous whore general, you’ll have the life you deserve.” He assures her.

Gareth slips an arm around Sarvah, pulling her close as the couple watch Steve and Madina. Madina turns her head toward Steve and sniffles.

“I want you to have the life you deserve too.” She murmurs.

“I think I already do.” He says, smiling warmly at her.

Reaching out, Madina rests a hand on his cheek before leaning in and giving him a kiss. Gareth turns to Sarvah and gives his lover a kiss as well, nuzzling her cheek with his snout. After sharing a moment, both couples return to the horses, unhitching them from the tree. Climbing atop their backs, they turn toward Wildwood. There’s still a war to fight, and they have to prepare for it.

“Ready to go home?” Gareth asks the others.