Wartune

Wartune

  Copyright 2016 Proficient City Limited Hong Kong

  Acknowledgements

  Ayesha

  My gratitude goes to God, my family for their support and Proficient City for their consideration.

  Matthew

  I'd like to thank my mother for inspiring a love of reading, my father for fostering my love-of-work attitude and my sister for not letting me getting away with stupidity. I'd also like to thank the extended family and friends for getting me out of the house once in a while.

  Prologue

  “Where is the prince?” The woman demanded. “The Lady Debra…if we do not find him, I do not know what she will do.”

  They had searched for hours, scoured every corner of the palace. Every barrel was open, every room searched, every closet emptied, but the princeling and his guardian had not been found.

  “Maybe there’s some kinda secret passages…” One of the younger servants suggested.

  The woman slapped him upside the head. “Don’t be an idiot. We don’t have time for you to waste.” The young man shied away.

  “They’re in the city by now. Ain’t nothin’ to be done by us, up to the guards now.” The speaker was an old man who had been working at the palace for over three decades. He had seen troubles, but even he was shocked by this.

  The woman shook her head sadly. He was right, and they would pay for it. Someone would need to be blamed, and it would not be the Lady herself.

  “The king…and now this…” She said. They all cast their glances downward. There truly was nothing to be done.

  “We check again.” She told them, knowing as she said the words that they would find nothing. “We check again until the Lady tells us to stop.”

  They all nodded. They glanced at one another, then began to shuffle towards their separate areas to continue the meaningless search.

  Gloria

  Gloria stretched her long, sinuous neck and stared down at the couple rising to meet her. The woman was only weeks away from birth, her swollen belly uncovered and slick from the summer heat. The man was a simpleton, but he did his best to support her despite her dismissals. Even when the woman stumbled and he had no choice but to steady her, she would spit curses at him and bat him with her skinny arms.

  Gloria was confused.

  Little birdies climbing climbing, up they come, up up but why? Why up why climb? Familiar faces? Quiet faces, not like those loud faces, sin-faces. Not nice faces but good faces. Clean faces. Dirt-covered clean faces up up up. The loud ones are coming, clean faces shouldn't be upping should be downing down down gone away. Downing no screaming, never no screaming no loud loudly screaming. Maybe the loud ones aren't coming, maybe staying, goddess guide me loud or sad or quiet or dead.

  Gloria continued to watch them, hoping they would change their minds and abandon their quest to find her. Alas, too often these days mortals came to tap into her gift. And they looked so strange...

  Gloria's skin was so dark it could barely be seen against the obsidian behind her. When she stood straight, which she did as rarely as possible, she was almost half again as tall as a human woman. Every feature was sharp, her chin cutting above her throat, her nose and eyes slicing into one another, and her smile, on those rare occasions it appeared, edged as diamond.

  When the pregnant woman finally reached the top of the path, steps away from the entrance of to the cave that acted as Gloria's home, she was too tired to notice to the half-goddess staring at her. The man, preoccupied with his abuser, also failed to notice Gloria as he stumbled upwards. He almost ran into the woman, but Gloria had been kind enough to some stones on the path to help him. He quickly dug through his pack to get her some water. The woman glared at him, then snatched the water away.

  "What took you so long? I'm thirsty." She scorned. The man smiled sadly and nodded his head.

  "Now where is this she-devil, this prophetess that can tell me the fate of the mewling squirm that wriggles inside of me?" The man looked shocked and stared at the woman for a moment before gathering his wits and looking around. He noticed Gloria immediately and began to point at her. The pregnant woman had closed her eyes, however, and directed her face to the sky. The man touched her lightly, and her face twisted with rage as she swatted at him.

  "Idiot, you are not to touch me! Never again will I make that mistake, I..."

  She noticed the look of terror on his face and noticed as he pointed more enthusiastically. The pregnant woman slowly turned her head and stared in awe at Gloria.

  "Why are you here?" Gloria asked calmly. Here tear seer clear I don't see clear I'm a terrible seer what was I saying? Who is she looking at? That man has a nice smile why doesn't he smile smile smile, he smiled yesterday and might smile again or not lost a spot smile a while while you smile with style. I miss the beaches I...

  "My Lady, my humblest apologies." The woman interrupted Gloria's thoughts as she stood up, then bowed as low as she was able. She teetered for a moment and the silent man dove to steady her again. Once she had straightened she shoved him away.

  Gloria drew a hand to her face in what she thought was a mysterious manner and stifled a giggle. The pregnant woman seemed adequately impressed and stuttered as she continued.

  "I...I have come to ask a question of you, lady. There is a child inside of me," obvious woman is obvious doesn't to the what is the thing that babies, "and I would ask what you know of it. I lay with this man, once upon a time, but a fall from a horse has addled his brain and..." The woman looked distressed. Lying faced liar, not clean no cleanliness on your face, that dirty dirt can't hide how dirty you are. "And I would like to know what you can tell me of its future. My father paid handsomely for information to find you, and would pay handsomely again for your wisdom."

  Gloria turned her head and looked at her barren cave.

  The woman followed her gaze. "Though I'm sure one such as yourself has no need of such petty gifts."

  "You should leave." Gloria told her. Leave alive stay adead, a red dead blood smeared red.

  "My lady, I have come so far, accompanied only by this simpleton," the woman looked at her companion in disgust, "Your power is great, and it is such a small thing I ask. I beg of you, tell me the future of my child!"

  "So you can decide whether it is to live or die?" Die smie apple pie.

  "I could not kill it, not now. Only...I would perhaps offer it another life. Is this your advice, lady? Should I give it away, and search for a more...capable man?"

  "It is already dead, I am afraid." Afraid, I said, little little bloody red. Red and dead, said red dead head. Bled and bled and bled and dead.

  The woman looked shocked and reached for her belly. She felt a small kick, felt confusion for a moment, then smiled to herself.

  "They said you could see the future, but if you cannot see the present, how can that be? Has this entire trip been a waste?" The woman slapped her companion. "Idiot, you and your damned horses! Now look at us!"

  Suddenly Gloria's face twisted into a mask of terror. "Quickly children," she said frantically, "Into the cave!"

  She swept them up into her arms, and unceremoniously tossed them through the cave's mouth, then turned and looked as innocent as she was able. Bright cave bad cave sin face race race, race come sin some, come come come come come come come come come...

  Gloria saw two shadows appear on the edge of the cliff. She stared at them, refusing to look up.

  "Well met, cousin." One of the creatures spoke to her as it landed. "It has been far too long. I hope you have been comfortable." Gloria allowed her gaze to flicker to the faces of the brother gods.

  They were almost exact opposites one bright, one dark. They wore no clothes, and could almost be described as man-shaped, except for their grotesque size. Each had a pair of gi
gantic wings that they flexed softly.

  "Do not taunt her, brother," said the second one, "It is not her fault she is this way. It is a great burden she bears, to be gifted with only half a mind."

  "Pah! Yaros, your compassion bores me. Fine, as you will." He turned to Gloria. "Prophetess, we have need of your knowledge. Share it, and we will be on our way."

  "You smell like death." She answered. "Brothers alone. No cousins nor uncles nor mothers nor fathers bless this war. What do you want from me?" What do they want? They want to want! To want to know to know to want to want to...what do they know? Do they know of the goddess? Do they know? No.

  "Get out of your head, cousin." The one named Yaros commanded. "The faster you tell us what our enemies hold for us, the faster we will leave."

  Gloria stared at them for a moment, confused again.

  "Who is who is what you should ask. Who will do what and who will die? There will be death amongst us. Not I, no, not I. You, or you, or you, or you. Not I. Sleeping stays slumbered. Awake unnumbered. Numb not noun new. New war, war wave worries. You worry, worry about warriors about. Ibalize beware lies and ties and smiles and wiles and.."

  "Enough!" Ibalize cried. He launched a wave of magic into the cave and smiled as he heard the screams. "You attempt to confuse us with mystery and nonsense. We are gods against mortals. We already have two of the shards, and will soon have the rest. We waste our time here, brother. Let us go and wage our war."

  Ibalize leaped into the air, his magic launching him forward. In a moment, he was gone from sight.

  Gloria stared acid at Yaros.

  "Sin-face." She said to him. "Sinny sinny sin-face." Then she turned, and danced into her cave.

  Muda, Sophie, Yannick

  "You will practice until you are no longer you. Until you are like a river, an unending torrent flowing between attack and defense, slowly carving away the mountain that is your enemy. You will meander from left to right, top to bottom, and then you will charge, or fall back, until the moment comes to strike. Then, like a waterfall you will crash into your enemy, defeating them utterly."

  Muda stared at his instructor, once again noticing the deceptively casual saunter the man adopted when he was surrounded by his students. Many young men and women had been deceived by that walk, believing it to mean that the skinny instructor wasn't paying attention. When they thought he wasn't looking and they had time to lower their blades, or to close their eyes for a moment, a quick SMACK would remind them that he was always paying attention.

  Muda had never fallen for this deception. He was no slouch, waiting for every opportunity to let down his guard. A coward, perhaps, but a vigilant one.

  Muda would have been considered handsome in his native Yaloran, but in Sikeran he was ignored by most women. He was too slim, his muscles well-defined, but small. He face was nothing but angles – a sharp nose, sharp chin, sharp cheekbones and sharp, but tender eyes. He stood a head taller than most Sikeran men and had developed a slight slouch to accommodate for his height. He rarely wore the armor that Yannick had brought for him, instead dressing in simple robes like the Sikeran. He could not yet grow a beard so would shave daily, and he bore a few scars, but nothing significant.

  After a short time and a few physical reminders, the instructor finally finished his speech and put them in pairs. He liked them to change partners for every exercise, preventing them from falling into habits easily found with friends. Muda stepped in front of an older, larger boy named Sigmund. Strong, stupid Sigmund, the other boys called him. They didn't see the need for creativity in their insults. Their task was to take turns slashing high and blocking with their shields. The instructor drove them hard for half a bell, and Muda was well tired by the end. He had been at practice since mid-morning, right after he finished his history lessons, and it would be dark in only a couple of hours.

  Muda did not allow himself to slow down, however, and he made sure Sigmund didn't either. The instructor would pass by every few moments and correct Sigmund on his footing, or tell him to tighten his grip on his sword, but he rarely needed to correct Muda.

  When they were worn and sweaty, the instructor called their attention.

  "All right, you've done well enough for today. One more task and you can return to your mother's sweet bosoms." He smiled at his own jest. "You will spar in pairs with the broadswords while the rest watch. Three kill strikes for victory and the loser must clean up his opponent's training clothes. I will have no blood today, however, not like last week. If any blood is drawn, both boys will spend the evening doing laps down the path of altars. Is that understood?"

  The instructor looked around.

  "Muda, let's see if you can show some fire for once. Jakta, you will be his opponent. Remember boys, no blood. The wife will kill me if I stain my new pants."

  He tossed them each a blunted sword and backed away.

  "You may begin."

  Jakta smiled evilly. He knew how the battle would go, how it always went with Muda. Jakta would strike hard and fast, and Muda would block. They would continue on and on, Jakta always attacking and never defending, until finally Muda would slip and Jakta would land a blow. The question, when battling Muda, was never of victory or defeat, only with how long until Muda fell.

  Muda was tired today, he would not last long. Jakta dove forward with an obvious two-handed overhead slash. Muda brought up his sword and deflected, letting Jakta's weight carry him away, then turned and readied himself.

  "Pathetic." He heard behind him. Yannick had come to watch, likely already half a bottle of brandy in, and eager to see Muda fail.

  Muda stiffened, filled again with shame and anger. Yannick didn't need to come watch his training, it was always the same. Jakta was ready again and attacking. Not so bold this time, clearly tired himself, he slashed left and right, danced forward, then back away again, probing for Muda's weaknesses. Yannick spit loudly at another missed chance, and Muda turned his head, giving Jakta the chance to cut hard against the side of his head. Muda fell to the ground, dizzied.

  "No blood, you ingrates!" The instructor cried as Muda hit the ground. He touched his ear. There was a small amount of blood on his fingers, so he scooped up some dirt and rubbed it on the side of his head to hide the cut. He lay there for a moment, head buzzing, then pushed himself to his feet, and held up his sword again. Jakta laughed. It would be over soon now. He dove forward again, same overhead attack, but this time Muda wasn't fast enough to dodge. He took a glancing blow along his helmet and stumbled.

  "Close enough." The instructor said, "One more and we're done here."

  Muda was no longer in the mood, and let Jakta have the last kill strike without much challenge. The instructor looked as if he might say something, but held back.

  "Next two boys, Trig and Jerome." He said instead. Two of Jakta's crew, they didn't like to fight each other. Put the order of things into questions. They took the swords from Muda and Jakta, and readied themselves, but before they could start a messenger approached. Muda had sweat in his eyes, and could not see who it was. The instructor leaned down to listen to her words, then immediately lost his regular swagger.

  "We are done for the day. Muda, for your unimpressive display, you are also charged with putting away all the equipment. The rest of you are dismissed." He turned around quickly marched away.

  Most of the boys were kind enough to wipe down their own equipment and put it in the nearby chests, but Jakta and his minions were not so gracious. They dropped their items on the ground, chuckling to themselves as they dirtied them even more. Muda didn't mind so much. He had no motherly bosom to return to, just the drunken stench of Yannick. Muda looked around, but his caretaker had disappeared, likely to get himself another bottle.

  Muda picked up the few pieces of equipment from the ground and carried them to the closed chests. He wiped each one carefully, making sure there was no dirt hidden in the crevasses and folds, then he lay it on top of the rest. He was about to close the chest when
a slender hand reached from behind him. He turned around and saw Sophia's dark hair and almond eyes. He smiled.

  "You forgot a piece." She said. “Hurry up.”

  She handed him a chest guard, and then looked at him impatiently. While he wiped it down he asked: "So what did you need to tell instructor?"

  "It is a private matter." She responded with her usual coldness, "You need not concern yourself."

  "Oh I'm not concerned," he replied, "Just curious. Not every day you see him move like that."

  Sophia coughed, suggesting that he hurry. When the piece was clean he put it in the chest with the others and closed the lid. Finally, he covered it with a stone and sat down.

  "So what are we going to do now?" He asked her.

  "We are going to do nothing. I am going to return to my duties." She gave him a slight bow, then turned and walked away.

  Muda looked around again, and seeing no one nearby, headed to a nearby tree. He sat down in its shade, closed his eyes, and started to imagine what it would be like to be the great Knight Javer as he faced down the god of death. If he himself only had the courage.