Zenak (15 page)

“Well, my friends, I think I've worn out my welcome,” Zenak said lightly. Then he started walking among the bodies toward Mea. It was no problem for him to walk among them. He pushed them aside as he walked. They did nothing and gave way to him without the slightest resistance. Zenak hoped that they didn't even realize that he was escaping. However, the lack of resistance from the bodies did not last long. One of the bodies let out a piercing scream that reverberated throughout the forest and when the echo had stopped the bodies attacked Zenak. Their strength was a surprise to Zenak. At first he could not see how their frail rotting corpses could hurt him until he felt their hands close around his arms. They were like iron vices closing on a piece of wood. Zenak then realized his true plight and started swinging his sword. In no time at least twenty bodies had been de­capitated but they kept coming, even without their heads.

“Blast!” yelled Zenak. Then he changed his tactics and started slicing at their arms and legs. At least without their arms they couldn't fight and without their legs they couldn't move. But even that was futile for ten more would follow for every one Zenak struck useless. As he fought, Zenak was forced back. He was on the defensive for the first time in his life. Finally, his back was against a tree and he was slicing for his life. Unknown to Zenak as he fought the corpses on the ground, more climbed up the back of the great oak. Zenak finally saw them hanging from the tree and swung at them also, but when he did that two or three corpses would jump him forcing Zenak to save himself from the ground attack. The tree was be­coming over loaded with bodies and then, as from an unknown sign, they dropped from the tree onto Zenak. The weight was too much and Zenak fell to the ground. He kept swinging his broadsword, but it was to no avail. The corpses pinned him to the ground. His broadsword was wrenched from his grasp and then Zenak was kick­ed in the head. Everything around Zenak swirled and then went black.

When Zenak came to, he found himself bound and placed on top of a platform. There was a fire beneath him and the bodies were slowly, mechanically bringing more firewood for the fire. In a short time the platform and Zenak would be engulfed in flames and the inferno would reduce Zenak to ashes that would spread on the wind. But Zenak stayed calm and examined his situation. He was bound tightly and the more he pulled on the hemp rope the tighter it became. Breaking the rope was useless for it was too strong, even for Zenak. He then surveyed the sit­uation for another escape route, but as he did he felt the fire lick through the rather large openings in the platform and burn him. Without a thought more, Zenak realized his way to escape. He stuck his hands through one of the openings into the flames. The dry hemp caught fire quickly and Zenak pulled his burned hands out of the fire. The pain was excruciating. The hemp burned quick­ly and Zenak's hands were free. He undid his feet quickly and look­ed around. He was at the edge of a cliff that sat above a deep river. He then looked for his sword and noticed a body near the now burning platform holding it. Zenak had no more time to spare, the bodies hadn't noticed he had been free yet and the platform was on fire. He was also in terrible pain from being burned all over. He jumped from the platform onto the body, grabbed the sword, and with only two strides was over the side of the cliff. The drop was a long one but the water was a cold, wel­come relief to Zenak's burned body. The corpses were slow in re­acting, but when they realized what had happened a piercing scream was let out from all of them. Almost immediately the banks of the river started moving and thousands of bodies arose from them. Zenak couldn't believe it. But to his relief they didn't come in. A couple of bodies tried to pursue Zenak in the water but upon entering the fast-moving river their bodies would fall apart like a mud castle against the ocean tides. Zenak was safe as long as he stayed in the water. It wasn't necessary for him to stay in long for the sun began its daily march and as soon as the first rays struck the forest, the corpses melted back into the ground. When they all disappeared Zenak came out of the water. He still held onto this sword even with his blistered hands. But he knew that he couldn't use the sword until his hands healed. That could take days and he didn't have time. He sat on the bank, the pain in his hands and body compounded only by the pain in his heart. It would be futile to go on if he couldn't fight, and if he stayed he would have to sleep during the day and stay in the river at night to keep away from the corpses. And he wasn't sure what could get him during the day while he slept. He was tired, so he got up and gathered some of the strange purple moss that seem­ed indigenous to the area to make a soft bed to try and at least relax. The moss felt cool on his hands and Zenak rubbed them with the cooling moss. Then miraculously his hands began healing, and within minutes they were the same battle-scarred hands as before. Zenak stared at them in astonishment; then he looked at the purple moss. What was this healing agent? He picked up a handful and rubbed as much of his body as he could reach, then he lay down in the moss and rubbed his back against it. In moments his whole body was healed. Zenak felt a renewed strength, grabbed up his sword, and rushed back up the hill out of the river valley so he could resume his trek to Mea. He was confident now that he could beat anything. In minutes Zenak was back on the forest path that led to Mea. The ex-king ran through the forest and before morning was over Zenak was out of the musty forest. He look­ed out across the rolling hills dotted with lush clumps of palm trees. Mea was visible in the distance. Its great walls glis­tened in the noon sun. Zenak knew the size of Mea and he knew his journey was not over because Mea was still at least two days' hike. The path was visible, even though it was not very well worn, and it went straight through a small village that lay in the midst of the green hills. The village was one of the smaller villages of Soci. It consisted of only one street flanked by brick huts and stores with thatched roofs. At the far end of the street stood the wizard's pyramid. That, however, was not an unusual sight in Soci for every city, town, or village had a wizard's pyramid. And it was always the tallest building in the community. The pyramid was not the flat-sided type of faraway Lopus. Instead, it was stepped and the small area on the top was where a wizard would go everyday and pray to the gods. The top of the pyramid was large enough for only one person. [The description of this pyramid brings to mind the Aztec pyramids. Maybe the
Chariots of the Gods
should now be reevaluated. Maybe the supposed space travelers of
Erich von Däniken
are really some Soci wizards who survived the age of the Island and consti­tuted the beginning of the Aztec civilization.]

The village was a welcome sight to Zenak. He was ravaged by hunger and his throat ached for a large stein of ale. He hoped the tavern had rare hir meat and black ale. The hir was an animal raised in the mountains, and its meat, when cooked well, was tender and juicy. Zenak, though, didn't relish the thought of mingling with the Socians. They made him uncomfortable. It's not that they were rude to strangers, it's just that they didn't welcome them. A stranger usually left the company of a Socian quickly for it was a mental burden to put up with their unfriendliness. But unfriendliness never stopped Zenak. He sauntered into the village keeping an eye out for the town tavern. The first person he encountered was a young boy probably not much older than five. The boy was very frail and his sandy-colored hair and pale blue eyes made him look even frailer. The boy had been sitting on a wall that paralleled the road, but when he saw Zenak coming up the trail, he jumped off the wall and stood in the middle of the road. Zenak was happy to see the boy for he could tell Zenak exactly where the tavern was.

“Hey, boy,” Zenak called as he approached, “where is the tavern? My stomach aches for food and my mouth waters for some Socian ale.” The boy stood, saying nothing. “Shy?” asked Zenak. He stood in front of the boy. “Here is a tolen, enough to buy you candy for a year. Now tell me, where is the tavern?”

The boy did not take the tolen. Zenak stared at the boy and smiled. The boy did not acknowledge the smile. Then the boy drew a small dagger and attacked Zenak. Zenak jumped back laughing, picked up the screaming boy, and held him at arm's length. Zenak had the boy's arms pinned so he could not knife him.

“For a Socian, and a frail one at that, you are some war­rior,” Zenak said. He was proud of the youth's spunk and found it very amusing to watch the boy's useless shaking to get himself free. Then Zenak, for a moment, was lost in thought. He thought of his son and how he would be the greatest warrior on the Island. Zenak swelled with pride at the thought of his son, but he felt a deep depression at the thought of his son being held by Vokar. His thoughts then returned to the pre­sent and he laughed again at the struggling boy. His laughter, however, was stopped abruptly when he looked into the boy's eyes. The eyes were not those of mischievous five-year-old, but instead were vacant and cold. They resembled the eyes of the people of Gaston when they attacked Zenak and Tak.

“Damn, another of Vokar's villages,” Zenak expressed out loud. Not wanting to be part of a duel with a town again, Zenak turned back to skirt the town. He put the boy behind a high wall so the child could not follow, and then he trotted back toward the forest. To his dismay, as he rounded the corner of the road, he found that his exit was blocked.

Barring his way stood the people of the village with their three wizards. The people were all small and frail. Zenak resembled a giant next to these people. Also very few of them carried any kind of weapon other than clubs or rakes. Zenak was disgusted.

“Out of my way!” Zenak yelled. The people did not move. “Be reasonable,” Zenak pleaded,” you will die from the weight of my sword if you attack me.” Zenak then pleaded to the wizards, “Don't you know that another mind is doing this to you? A mind so vile, so heinous that he will destroy the Island before giving up his power.” It was useless; the wizards' eyes were as vacant as their townsfolk. “Damn you stupid people, break the spell, you can do it,” Zenak yelled. The people stared at him with blank eyes.

Now Zenak was deeply irritated and he drew his sword and stood like a mighty mountain in front of the people. He had pleaded enough. His muscles twitched in anticipation of the slaughter.

“Ah, Gaston revisited, how vile,” Zenak said to himself. Then he spoke out loud. “C'mon, attack, you weakly fools, let me sever your heads so I can go on!”

The people did not move. It seemed like hours to Zenak that the wizards and the people stood and stared at him. But Zenak stood his ground and stared back at them. Then the three wizards lost their blank look and began probing Zenak's body with their eyes. Zenak felt as if each fiber of his body was being analyzed.

“Well, what are you going to do, study my body or attack me? Do something you mindless bastards! Am I to wait forever to slaughter you? I mean if I am to kill you let's be quick about it, I have more important errands,” Zenak yelled in total exasperation. The people did nothing but the three wizards turned away from Zenak and faced the crowd.

“Oh, great, now four of us will stare at these weak-kneed people,” Zenak said as he dropped the point of his sword to the ground.

The wizards began chanting in the ancient language of the Socians [the chant was included but even Solok could not trans­late it, so we decided to leave it out.] As the wizards chanted the sky turned black with thick clouds and savage winds be­gan to blow. The people did not move and neither did Zenak. A flash of lightning struck one of the wizards, reducing him to a charred mass of bones.

“My god, I'm glad I'm not a wizard. It seems whenever they perform tricks they die,” Zenak mused.

Then simultaneously, two more flashes of lightning struck down the other two wizards. They, too, lay on the ground a mass of black bones and melted flesh.

Zenak stared at the bodies with interest and said to him­self, “Well, three down and sixty to go. I may not have to draw any blood if this keeps up.” He shrugged his shoulders and pro­ceeded to walk away from the people. Now that the wizards were dead, he figured the people would do very little.

But no sooner had he turned away than a thunderous voice bellowed at him, “You go without a fight? The great Zenak will not fight?”

Zenak stopped. He wondered where such a powerful voice was coming from. He knew it could not be emanating from the frail Socians. He turned around, and to his supreme chagrin he saw that he faced sixty massive and ferocious looking warriors, each one wielding a great sharpened broadsword. The sixty small, mild-mannered, frail Socians had been turned into sixty of the most powerful men Zenak had ever seen. Only in his mirror had Zenak seen a man as powerful as the men that faced him,

“Well, it appears that the wizards outdid themselves. I'm surprised,” Zenak said. “If I had all of you men on my side we could have the Island at our feet. Instead we shall fight.”

He felt that even though these men had become lions in­stead of sheep that he could easily fight them because they could not be his equal at swordsmanship. He was wrong. As if the north winds carried them, two fighters attacked Zenak with a ferocity that could have knocked any man other than Zenak off of his feet. But Zenak was prepared, and he began exhibiting swordsmanship that he never knew he had. He had to because both men were fight­ing coulas gone mad, [a coula was the size of a panther but its giant claws and oversized fangs made it one of the deadliest ani­mals on the Island.] For a short while neither Zenak nor the two fighters were making any offensive effort, but finally Zenak pressed forward and like a whirlwind put the two men on their de­fenses with his dazzling swordsmanship. Even with this bruising effort, Zenak did not stop the two warriors and he realized that the two were not using all their resources. He knew that they were going to put up an effort that would be hard to stop. He did not have to wait long for that effort because, like the two warriors had become freshly rejuvenated, they came off the defensive and onto the offensive with such a savage attack that Zenak was forced into a defensive position. He could not make a thrust at either one, but was forced to the losing position of protecting himself.