Zenak (5 page)

“We're winning,” Zenak said.

“I know, and we have Soci to thank for that,” Habor re­plied.

Zenak looked quietly at Habor and then looked back at the battle. “Our right lines are loosening a little. Get over there and order the captains to close their lines. I don't want a mercenary left alive,” Zenak ordered Habor.

“It is done,” Habor said and rode toward the right lines.

Zenak stayed where he was and fell deep into thought. What was this task that he was to do? Also, who hired this army, and did whoever it was have anything to do with his predestined task? He was at a loss and resolved that as far as his task was concerned, he wouldn't worry about it. There was nothing he could do anyway, unless the Fates fell asleep. He then turned his attention to Habor as the powerful man rode to relay his king's orders and Zenak said to himself, “A good man.”

Zenak's reverie did not last long on the battlefield and his thinking was disturbed by a deep grating voice behind him. Zenak turned around quickly with his sword poised to kill. He then saw his adversary was Tabilo himself.

“So we meet again,” Tabilo said with a sneer. A great scar ran across his pockmarked face going through an empty eye socket. It maimed his face grotesquely.

“Tabilo, it appears Habor's sword was not powerful enough for you,” Zenak said

Tabilo's dense-muscled body jumped with laughter and his one good eye stared coldly at Zenak while the black socket stared like death. “It will take more than one sword wound to take Tabilo down,” said the mercenary as he raised his sword. “Now King Zenak—King, that name does not fit a pirate such as yourself—prepare to fight hard for your life. But be even more prepared to die.”

Tabilo rushed Zenak. Zenak, however, was able to duck the swinging scimitar Tabilo wielded. Then Gam moved back and gave Zenak time to put his broadsword into play, and swiftly did it come into play. When the two great fighters clashed together, it was as equal a match as anyone could find. Zenak's speed was somewhat hindered by his broadsword, but the lighter scimitar of the slower Tabilo could not take the crushing blows of a broadsword well. The marks were battling also. Each of them had the other by the neck and blood from both marks made the ground beneath them slippery. Zenak kept battering his broadsword at Tabilo. And all Tabilo could do was keep up his defense. Then Tabilo's mark got the better of Gam and forced Gam to his fore knees. This put Tabilo and his mark above Zenak and Gam. Then a rain of blows from Tabilo began crashing upon Zenak, and coupled with the advantage the enemy mark had on Gam, it was not long before Zenak was thrown from Gam as Gam crashed onto a pile of dead soldiers. Tabilo's mark bent toward Gam in order to sever Gam's jugular vein, but Tabilo ordered his mark to rise before Gam could be killed. The mark followed his command quickly and Tabilo bore down on Zenak with his scimitar swinging. Tabilo's ugly face was full of evil laughter as he saw Zenak's end. But Zenak was too swift for Tabilo and he jumped away from Tabilo's death stroke as he rode by. Tabilo quickly turned his mark around and rushed Zenak again. His scimitar was spinning over his head faster than a windmill on a windy day. This time, however, Zenak was fully prepared for the charge and stood re­solutely awaiting his enemy. Tabilo steered his mark right at Zenak to keep Zenak guessing on which side Tabilo's mark would pass. Zenak was not fooled, however, and when Tabilo turned his mark to Zenak's right side, Zenak was prepared and parried Tabilo's scimitar with such force that Tabilo was thrown off his war mark. Tabilo, though, was quicker than usual and sprang to his feet. His well-trained mark returned to his side almost as quickly as Tabilo had jumped to his feet. Tabilo jumped back onto his mark and prepared to charge Zenak again when like a flash of lightning Gam struck Tabilo's war mark. Tabilo was once again thrown from his mark as it fell from a ripped jugular vein. Tabilo stared at his dead mark with a look of surprise, and then he looked with hatred at Gam hovering in victory above the dead mark. Zenak smiled and with his broad­sword waving rushed Tabilo. Tabilo shook his head to clear it, looked at Zenak, flexed his mighty muscles, laughed, and came at Zenak full speed. In an instant they both struck at each other with a resounding clanging of steel that could be heard for karns. At first the two warriors fought a hard fight and neither one could find an opening in the other's defense. Sometimes Zenak would have the advantage raining strike after strike at Tabilo. But then at other times Tabilo would get the better of Zenak and keep Zenak in a defensive position while he whirled his blade all around Zenak. The heavy broadsword, as the fight progressed, proved too much for the lighter scimitar that was being wielded by a tiring Tabilo, and Tabilo was forced to take a final, defensive stance and wait for a chance to get a way or find a hole in Zenak's offensive. He could not find that hole, though, for the strikes from Zenak's broadsword were quick, explosive, and precise. Normally when a warrior fights with a broadsword, he fights with slow, well-aimed blows, usually because the broadsword is so heavy that it cannot be of much use in higher aims at the enemy's body. But Zenak was not an average warrior and he fought with his broadsword as if it were as light as the foils that the Samuns use. [The foil is used only in Samu because its people are the only ones who have perfected a strong enough metal for the thin light sword.]

Tabilo had stopped laughing and fear now characterized his face as the lightning blows from Zenak fell upon him like showers of metal. Tabilo was a well-trained fighter and could parry Zenak's thrusts, but his position was only de­fensive—he knew that he was only delaying the inevitable.

Zenak, however, was laughing and cursing as his broad­sword kept Tabilo jumping with swift strokes. “Who hired you?” Zenak roared above the clanging metal.

“I cannot tell you the name of my employer,” Tabilo answered as he jumped over a dead warrior.

“Since when is a mercenary loyal to his employer? You forget, Tabilo, I too was a mercenary. Now tell me. You're doomed anyway,” Zenak said.

“Why not,” Tabilo answered as he jumped into a different position causing Zenak to knick him in the shoulder. “A priest.”

“What's his name?” Zenak asked.

“Vokar,” Tabilo replied. Even in his fear Tabilo smiled a little at Zenak's obvious discomfort.

At this reply Zenak hesitated for only a slight moment, but Tabilo, mature in battle like Zenak, took full advantage of the long-awaited hesitation and turned and ran for the nearest mark a half karn away. Zenak did not chase him but dropped the point of his sword to the ground and watched his adversary run.

“Shall I ride him down?” Habor asked.

Zenak looked up at Habor somewhat dazedly and looked around him. He had become so engrossed in his duel against Tabilo that he had not realized that the battle was over, the mercenaries soundly defeated. He was also confused and saddened at Tabilo's reply even though he was not surprised. Despite his sadness and anger, he could not help but smile at Tabilo, who in his haste, tripped over bodies trying to get to the lone mark.

“No,” Zenak replied to Habor. “Gam, come here.” The war mark quickly trotted to Zenak's side and nuzzled his nose in Zenak's face. Zenak patted Gam, pulled out his longbow, and took an arrow out of the quiver. He casually put his longbow into firing position and aimed it at Tabilo. By this time Tabilo had reached the mark but was having trouble mounting. The mark kept moving away and biting Tabilo. The poor animal only wanted its master, not Tabilo. Finally, after some heavy beating from Tabilo, the mark allowed him to mount him. All this time Zenak carefully took aim. Once Tabilo had successfully mounted the mark, Zenak let his feathered death arrow fly. Tabilo never realized what hit him as the arrow passed through his throat. He wheeled a bit on the mark but somehow stayed on. Then the mark trotted quickly in Zenak's direction, not because of any action by Tabilo, but because it was easier to go that way for there were less hindering bodies of warriors. The mark bearing Tabilo trotted right up to Zenak's side. Zenak looked at the mark and eyed Tabilo. Then Zenak mounted Gam. Tabilo could now see Zenak, and he tried to talk but the only sound he could make was a soft gurgling noise as he slowly drowned in his blood.

“No suffering for a warrior,” Zenak said as he sliced Tabilo's head off.

Zenak turned away from the convulsing headless body of his long-time enemy and early friend and studied the situation. From what he could discern at least half of his marksmen had met their end on the bloody battlefield that day. Zenak shook his head. Even to a man who lives by the sword, the stench of death is a sad, worrisome smell. This man, this warrior, always has the feeling that death should be conquered. Maybe that's why a warrior loves to fight: if he lives to fight another day, he has conquered death. He has proven that life is the stronger side of this two-headed coin—Life and Death.

Habor came up to Zenak and reported, “Two thousand mer­cenaries are left. I know that you ordered all of them to be killed, but they threw down their weapons and raised their hands. I couldn't order unarmed men killed.”

Zenak stared quietly at the large, littered battlefield. He turned and looked at Tabilo's gruesome head and said, “Good. There has been too much death today. Brand the mercenaries' right cheeks with a Z so they will always remember their most useless battle and let them go. Do not let them go, however, without this warning: tell them if they are ever caught in Deparne again, they will be disemboweled on the spot.”

Habor smiled broadly and rode off to relay the orders.

The sun was bloody red as it tottered above the horizon revealing the living men surrounded by the bodies of well over 100,000 men and almost as many dead war marks. The heat from the sun was gone and the cold, damp, night air was descending upon the scene. Zenak shivered a bit and then called as many captains left alive that he could find.

“The town of Gaston lies some forty karns off the road from Balbania and next to the River Volski. Am I right?” Zenak asked

“Forty-three karns,” corrected a young captain.

“Good. Get our comrades buried and leave our enemies for the animals and the bugs. When we are finished we'll go to Gaston and take a well-needed day of play and rest,” Zenak said. “After that we will ride back to Balbania. Habor, send a rider back toward Balbania and tell the generals we have won without them. Tell them to disperse their men back to their homes,” Zenak continued.

The job of burying 20,000 men was not as ponderous as it seemed for there were approximately 25,000 men left alive. Each man, including Zenak, carried a shovel on his saddle. So with 25,000 shovels digging and with the prospect of rich ale and loose women filling their minds, the marksmen had their comrades buried in time to arrive in Gaston before midnight for the great­est debauchery the town ever experienced.

Chapter 7

For many years Vokar had worked on his magic, but only in the few days that Zenak had been at the Volski battlefield had Vokar discovered his full potential. He realized, to his evil joy, that with just a few more weeks' work he could control entire towns and probably entire nations. He felt he had more power than all of Soci herself. Because of this great confidence, Vokar prepared to take over Deparne, for he was certain that the mercenaries he had hired had overcome Zenak. Vokar, for a time, could have been described as a happy man. His step was a little brisker. His eyes were a little warmer and the night before the battle he surprised his priests by joining them at dinner, something he never did. At the dinner, again to their surprise, he told some hilarious stories of his early priesthood days, and he laughed louder than the rest of his followers. But that happiness was not to last long, for when he went to sleep on the night after the great battle at the Volski, he discovered the truth of his plot.

He had not been asleep for very long when a vision came to him. It was Tabilo riding on a war mark and laughing in the loud and spirited way he had. The more he laughed, however, the smaller he shrank until he had reduced himself into a small droplet of blood. Rising swiftly out of the blood came Zenak holding Tabilo's sullen head by his hair. Zenak's eyes were fierce and enraged and he kept repeating, “Vokar, your head shall be mine when I return.” Vokar awoke with a start. Cold sweat broke out all over his body and his hands trembled as he fumbled to get out of his bed. For a moment he stood quietly shaking, trying to compose himself. Once he had calmed down somewhat, he rushed to Mara's room, which was on the other side of the large palace. His nerves were on end when he broke into Mara's room without his usual courtesy of knocking first.

“Who goes there?” Mara demanded as she kicked a screaming lady-in-waiting out of her bed and tried to cover her pulsating body with one of her sheets.

“Vokar,” replied the priest nervously. “Light a candle. I can't see a thing.”

Mara lit the candle next to her bed and stared at Vokar intently. She was angry, for the young lady-in-waiting had not finished her nightly chores on the queen.

“Zenak has won and marches back with revenge in his heart. Get that wench out of here.” Mara motioned the lady-in-waiting out of the room. The young girl left through a private door in the queen's chamber.

“How do you know this?” Mara asked Vokar.

“I saw it in a dream,” Vokar replied

“In a dream? How do you know your dreams are true?” Mara asked sarcastically.

“My dreams never lie,” Vokar said so coldly that Mara wished she had not asked.

“Yes, yes, it's true your dreams never lie,” Mara said. She didn't know why she even questioned it. “So, do the same to him as you did to Tenen,” Mara said half impatiently and half-afraid.

“I cannot. He is the only man in the world who can fight my demands,” Vokar answered frantically. He paced the room as a tiger paces in his cage.

Mara now realized the importance of the situation and asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Run, run until my powers can overcome him so I'll be able to crush the life out of him with my eyes,” Vokar answered viciously.

“Then I shall run with you, for I will not be able to see his face again until it is severed from his body,” Mara said in a tense voice.

Vokar stopped pacing and looked at her. Mara's flowing black hair was draped over her bare shoulders and her blue eyes looked as innocent as a baby mark's. Vokar's heart softened a little as he looked at her innocent face and her young lithe body. He thought to himself how she was the first and only woman that he had ever wanted for his own. Was it because she was beautiful? Or was it because she shared in his ambition? Even the most ambitious man needs to share that ambition with someone for it to be worth anything. Whatever it was he was happy she suggested that she go along. It showed that her feelings, no matter how perverted, were for him.

“Pack your things, for we shall flee tonight,” Vokar ordered Mara.

“Yes, and give me time to get the child ready for the trip,” Mara said as she jumped out of bed.

“Leave him,” Vokar commanded.

“No, I cannot,” Mara said with the determination of a she-wolf guarding her cub. How strong the mother's instinct is! It even shone through the evil that had engulfed Mara.

“All right take him then, but remember, if he slows us down the slightest, I will strike him dead,” Vokar said.

“He will not slow us,” Mara said. She began packing a small pack for she knew the escape was going to be on markback. There was no other way to escape Zenak.

“I will meet you here in your room in fifteen minutes,” Vokar said, for he had to pack up himself. Vokar rushed back to his room avoiding any eyes that might see him.

Back in his room Vokar was putting together all his scrolls of sorcery and legends when a vision once again appeared to him. The vision had Zenak chained to a cross with the prince's heartless body at the king's feet. Vokar smiled at this vision for now he felt that this flight was only a temporary sidetrack that Destiny herself had decided upon. Then he finished his packing and loaded his scrolls into a leather pack. Before leaving he stopped to look at his room. He had been raised here and this room had been his for the entire forty-eight years of his life. Even Vokar looked with a little bit of nostalgia at the scribbling on the wall next to the door that he had done when he was a child. It said: If only I knew where I was from and from whose womb I had been taken before I was sent here.

Vokar had been born on a certain day under a certain star at a certain time. The priests had waited for a child to be born on that day and that time for many years. And when Vokar was born the priests declared a holi­day and proclaimed that the greatest of all priests had been born. So Vokar was taken from his family, farmers living on the outskirts of town, and raised by the priests. His family was murdered two days after he had been taken away. Nobody ever knew why, but there was some speculation that the priesthood did it so the family could never reveal themselves to Vokar. Vokar knew that he would never see this room or the palace again. He was certain that the world would be his, but he had an equal certainty that this room and this palace were soon to be for­ever out of his life. He turned his back quickly and rushed out of the door not even taking the time to shut it.

It took him longer to reach Mara's room this time be­cause he took a longer, less-used route to reach her room. He didn't want anyone to see him packed and fleeing.

He rushed hurriedly into Mara's room and asked breath­lessly, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she said. She then picked up the crying prince who had been abruptly awakened and cuddled him in her arms.

“Shut him up,” ordered Vokar.

Mara tried rocking the baby lightly to abate its cries but no amount of rocking would quiet the child. The child was crying so loud and with such desperate fear that the guards stationed in a small room down the hallway from Mara's quarters were alerted and they rushed to help their queen. The clanging of the guard's swords warned Vokar that their flight might be stopped if he didn't hurry.

“Let's go,” Vokar said and he pulled Mara out of her room. But Vokar was too late. The guards had already arrived when he dragged Mara out of the room. The guards stopped for a moment and stared at Vokar dragging Mara. But they were mistaken at what they saw. The scene that they saw was the scene of an abduction. The sacrilegious abduction of a queen and her babe. The guards mistakenly inferred this because as Mara was leaving her bedchamber she accidently shut the heavy bedchamber door on her cape. Vokar being rushed because the guards had arrived was pulling on Mara while he was simultane­ously threatening to kill the child if Mara did not make it stop screaming. The almost comical scene, comical if it did not entail such serious consequences, was Vokar pulling the helpless queen behind him and threatening to kill the prince. Upon seeing such an act the guards, loyal to their queen to the death, instantly drew their broadswords and attacked Vokar. Vokar, however, was quick to act and almost immediately he turned his evil stare on the guards. No sooner had their eyes met the evil priest's eyes than they came to a halt.

“Melt,” ordered Vokar. Mara looked at Vokar rather puzzled then looked at the guards to see what a strange order like Vokar's would do.

Mara found herself surprised. The word was no sooner released from Vokar's thin lips than a highly viscous black liquid began to ooze from the loyal guards' feet. Vokar smiled when he first saw it and then broke out into uproarious laughter.

“Come, let's hurry,” he told Mara while he still laughed at his murderous ways.

“Let's watch,” said Mara. Her eyes were ablaze with her lust for the macabre.

“No, we must fly,” Vokar said. Then he grabbed Mara by her soft delicate arm and pulled her away leaving the men to become puddles of flesh, bone, and blood.

In their haste neither Vokar nor Mara looked carefully at the melting men. Had they looked with the careful attention, that should follow any deed of any consequence, they would have noticed that one of the rushing guards had not fallen into Vokar's spell and thus was not melting onto the stone floor.

This very alive man was named Famad. He was a young warrior destined for an inconsequential life. He tended to lean toward the pusillanimous side of living and because of his timidity and meekness, he was saved from the tragedy that befell his brave comrades. His saving came about because when his friends were attacking Vokar, he lagged behind by feigning a sprained ankle. Because of this, he had not been caught by Vokar's engulfing eyes, and therefore was not frozen by Vokar. He did not, how­ever, remain animated when Vokar ordered the halt of the other warriors, for he knew to do so would be either foolish or heroic and he could not perceive the difference in the obvious dichotomy. He did have a moment of horror when he saw his comrades begin to flow into each other and onto the floor. It was not that he pitied them, but that his ruse might be discovered at any time. To his relief Vokar and Mara hastily left, leaving the seed of their destruction behind—Famad.

Famad, when Vokar and Mara were out of sight, left his comrades to melt and headed for the main guardhouse. His mind was filled with consternation. When was Zenak going to return? Should he ride out and tell Zenak? How was he going to tell Zenak the bad news? All these questions and more plagued Famad until he arrived at the main guardhouse and told his story to his captain.

When Famad arrived at the door of the guardhouse, he stopped for a moment to get his thoughts together. How was he going to explain what had happened? He shrugged his shoulders and stepped into the room. His eyes immediately started water­ing from all the smoke from the cigar-smoking guards. He squinted in the poor light to find the captain. In one corner of the room two men were sitting and playing ginga [Apparently, from looking through the other scrolls, ginga is a game similar to chess except the pawns are allowed to move in any direction and the bishops, or babas, as they are called, are allowed to move only once in any dia­gonal direction.] In another corner were four men passing a bottle of wine around and watching a young woman they had bought for the evening writhing in her own ecstasy on the table. Finally, he caught sight of the captain in the back of the room near the rear door.

“Captain, come quickly,” Famad yelled. He ran toward the captain and the captain squinted his eyes a little and ducked his head so he could see who was calling him.

“Oh, it's the idiot, Famad,” he said, sounding disgusted as he chewed on his cigar.

“My Captain, the queen has been abducted and her guards melted,” Famad said as he reached the captain.

“Abducted? Melted? Have you gone insane?” The captain said incredulously.

“No, I'm not insane. The queen has been abducted by Vokar and through some sort of black magic he melted all of us, except me of course.”

The captain chewed his cigar a little harder and stared with suspecting eyes at this man whom he thought was a total idiot. Then he shuffled his feet a little and turned away from Famad to better think.

“I'm telling the truth and if you procrastinate any longer the queen will be getting farther away and you will be getting closer to Zenak's sword,” Famad said in a fit of bravado.

The captain once again looked at Famad, spit on the floor, grabbed up a bottle of wine, took a great swig from it, and said, “Take me to your melted friends.”

Famad bolted ahead of the captain and took off for the entrance to the queen's bedchamber. The captain lumbered behind him breathing heavily all the way.

When they reached the hallway to the bedchamber all there was to be seen were puddles of black liquid littered with clothes and weapons. The captain surveyed the scene for a moment and, walking carefully around the puddles, went into the queen's bedchamber. Famad followed him.

“There doesn't appear to have been a struggle, here. But it does appear that she's left because her clothes are gone and the child is gone. Are you sure she didn't go willing­ly?” the captain asked Famad.

“I saw Vokar pulling on her and threatening to kill her baby. There is no way she went will­ingly. Besides what woman would go willingly with that crea­ture Vokar and leave Zenak? Especially someone as beautiful as Mara,” Famad said.

“I guess you're right. She is too fine a person to do that,” the captain replied. No one but Vokar and Mara's private servants knew of her depravities and even her servants only knew of her sexual wants. Other than that they thought she was pure of heart. In fact her sexual needs were consi­dered normal by many people of the kingdom, so no questions were ever asked even when she would invite multiple men to her room for the night.

“Where could they have gone?” Famad asked.