After studying the drifting clouds of red dust on the distant horizon for some length of time through his field glasses, the man began to discern tiny dark specks advancing through the crimson-colored haze. “Ah, the pigeons are soon upon the field.” The man mused to himself, grinning, studying the movements of Mihai’s approaching elements.
The man’s grin slowly faded, gradually vanishing into a look of bewilderment as he continued to watch through his eyepiece. Although he could now see two contingents of riders separated from one another by a train of wagons that floated above the talc-like dust being drawn by several teams of horses, in the van also rode a line of armed soldiers. Out in front of the main body, to its right and left were small companies of flankers, six riders wide and four deep.
The man puzzled, lowering his glasses and turning to an officer standing next to him. “Strange...there are more armed soldiers than I expected, and they ride as if in battle formation. Neither Gabrielle nor that little bitch field marshal has ever risked such a bold maneuver when coming to a prisoner exchange. It’s not their style.” He took another look through the glasses, unable to yet discern the faces of those in the approaching company. “What’s that little tramp up to? And the mother of harlots...is she up to some mischief?” Handing the glasses over to an orderly, he commanded the officers around him, “Keep a good eye out for trouble. Something’s up, can’t tell yet, but whatever it is, I don’t expect it to spoil the day! Understand?”
He then turned to face those same officers, striking such a pose as to elicit adoration from those men, and justifiably so, for the man was beautifully handsome in appearance and stature, like one of the gods of legend. Deceitfully beholding to the eyes - it was told by any casting their gaze upon him - having a bold chin cleanly shaven, a disarming, smiling grin, a mouth filled with sparkling white teeth, a strong, straight-bridge nose disappearing under the shadow of a pronounced furrowed brow, and sun-blond, short-cropped hair. Yes, the man was quite a sight to behold.
But it was his eyes that were so hypnotically alluring, sky blue and fathomless, piercing and enchanting. His irresistible stare could bore deep into the soul, forcing surrender of a person’s heart regardless of will or countenance. Few could resist the man’s gaze, and those who did manage were forever changed.
His tongue, though, was his most bewitching weapon. Smooth and beguiling were his words spoken through prose and verse, calming the disquieted spirit of an agitated heart and reassuring the troubled nature of a weary soul. So many he had charmed to his side by singing to their troubled hearts with his cherubic music, singing of better times and renewed hope for days long past. Yes, it was his golden tongue and winsome verse that drew multitudes to him and that kept them his lasting prisoners.
Gently resting a hand on the shoulder of his second in command, he addressed the entire gathering. “My fellows, this is a great and wonderful day, a new and glorious page in the history of the League of Brothers! Even though Erithia - (Asotos’ designation for Lowenah) - has joined her presence to this rabble group, we will come off victorious! That harlot of hidden powers holds no sway over us because, I perceiving of her evil presence here, have forced her by her own decree to abstain from using any of her wicked powers this day.”
He grinned. “Her twisted arrogance will allow her no recourse other than to silently watch as lessons are taught this day. No sooner can she bend her own selfish rules than to stop time and make it go backward, even when it is to her desperate advantage. Unless I call out for her to do so, she must remain silent in deed and tongue. Do you think me the fool to do that?” He broke out laughing, followed by all the others present.
He then pointed toward the approaching companies. “My brothers, the hour is almost upon us. Look and see! Like the locusts, the witch comes with her hordes. Like a great tide on the oceans, she moves ever forward to consume the shore. Like a winter storm, she covers the land in darkness. See the witch come. Wielding the stolen powers of ancient fortresses, she proceeds without fear.”
Lifting a fist high, he declared, “Today we will teach her remorse! Today, her heart we shall cast down into nothingness! Surrender her power to us she will, to save a few useless treasures she will, meaningless little treasures that only a hopeless fool would desire.” Stepping back as his soldiers snapped to attention, the man shouted, “We wait for the nearing hour when glory will shine down upon us! Act with quick purpose when duty places its hand upon you!” Then, saluting his officers, he sent them away with the final words, “Now go and do your assigned duties so that this day will be filled with glorious victory!” With a smile of satisfaction, like a father watching his sons faithfully carrying out an assigned task, the man followed with his eyes those handsomely dressed, loyal officers as they hurried away.
Style of the gilded and ornate was the fashion of this army, and this day the dress uniform of the lowliest of officers was dazzling in its splendor, for this was the honor guard of the army of resistance, Satan’s army.
What of its leader? His uniform reflected his glory: burnished, golden armor embossed with the finest of engravings and jewels covering a blood-red blouse, flaming-red kilt, a wide leather belt supporting a girdle of layered, armored plates of chrysolite, all covered by a long, flowing red cape that fluttered upon the breeze like a banner upon the battle plain, complemented by a grand, golden-crested helm the man held in his hands.
This captain of his people carried no visible weapons, choosing to take on the appearance of benevolent peacefulness at this Prisoner Exchange. Yet anyone knowing the man was aware that in his being he carried the powers of the elements over soul and mind. He could so easily twist up a person’s heart to see things his way. Very few could resist his charms, and the one he dreaded most who could do so, was absent this day. Without lifting a hand, this man believed he could bring his approaching enemy to ruin.
At length, this captain addressed the lone officer remaining. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he suggested they follow the others. As they turned to go, the man leaned close in private conversation. “My dear, sweet brother, you know how great my affection is for you. Legion, our love is deep and journeys back to beyond time, but it is not only the manly comfort given that builds such a bond between us. You are my right hand in difficult times. I depend on your wisdom and prowess to bring us success, as is expected of you this day.”
Legion smiled humbly. “My dearest of brothers, Alithea, what greater honor can exist beyond praise coming from the lips of such a divine magistrate? For your honor, I have prepared diligently for this day, laying out a feast for the eyes that shall assuredly fill the hearts of our approaching host with the greatest of emotions. Spies have reported to me that… that the creature, one I shall not name, is stretched to the limit of her endurance. I believe she will quickly surrender to her more base instincts when she sees the welcome I have prepared for her.”
Alithea, whose given name was ‘Chrusion’, although the children of the Empire addressed him only as ‘Adelphos’ while privately calling him ‘Asotos’, frowned ever so little, pulling Legion in close so that only he could hear his words. “I am very pleased to have someone so devoted to this cause as you are, and I so appreciate the tireless energy you have invested in making this day a success, but…”
Legion became concerned. “But what, my brother?”
Alithea’s face filled with questioning remorse. “Troubling news has come to my ears concerning the treatment some of the prisoners have received. Yes, yes, the unruly need be handled with a firm hand lest they believe us weak. Still…there are others where possible malfeasance has been delivered upon them. Sirion, for example…”
Legion’s face filled with surprise, but his eyes betrayed the game that was being played out. Alithea must pretend the part of a concerned father who defends the rights of all the people in his charge. After all, there was a bill of rights and a constitution belonging to the Band of Brothers that established
certain inalienable rights for all, and numerous, also, were the rules of conduct written for the protection of war prisoners. Every citizen of that nation possessed a copy of such laws and regulations, they being required study for them.
This little game of self-righteous indignation for any possible violation of the nation’s wonderful laws of respect and freedom must be carried out to the full. Few if any of Alithea’s leading officers gave credence to those laws, and only the fool ever lifted up his book of rights in a court to declare his freedoms. But to openly act in defiance of them without proper justification might get a person killed, or even worse, for there were many worse things than death that flitted about the shadows of Alithea’s kingdom.
Legion waxed apologetically defensive. “My brother…my king, I sincerely admit that there have been some indiscretions proscribed against a few of the prisoners - I believe by those seeking revenge for real or imagined atrocities committed against them by the evil horde. These matters I have addressed with those in charge of the prisoners, demanding they protect them with their own lives if need be. There was also the horrid condition many of the prisoners arrived in when delivered into our hands by the Stasis Pirates.”
Looking toward the distant ships, he sighed. “War is such an evil thing. It forces a person into actions so displeasing to the heart. This mission is pivotal to the very existence of our kingdom. Nothing must be allowed to threaten its success. I fear there were times when persuasive measures were carried to an extreme, but it was done only for this cause. Look and see. The arts of persuasion need not be violent and destructive to the flesh. These were used only when necessary…and to satisfactory success. Sirion, on the other hand…”
Legion turned away, wiping a hand across his face. With tear-filled eyes, he looked back at Alithea. “Sirion, and a few of the others - you must understand, there was no other choice or our purpose might be threatened. That bitch-woman who stands a field marshal must be stretched to her limit. Her love for Sirion is so well known. Well, I believed that Sirion was the linchpin to our success. And besides, little else has been done to the girl other than what was done by the Stasis. We merely permitted her injuries go unattended. When this ordeal is finished, she will be given whatever assistance is needed.”
Bowing his head in sadness, Alithea lamented bitterly, “Sirion was the last of the virgin children come to my bed to refresh my spirit. She I wished so much to train up in all the ways of sweet lovemaking, but alas, as only a little child, she was stolen away from me by Tolohe, the girl wanting so to escape with us in our flight. But that witch-woman of darkness kidnapped the girl and turned her against me… her only true lover.”
Looking up and into Legion’s face, Alithea forced a grim smile. “After this day’s ordeal is over - and if that little child still lives - I wish for her healing to be made complete so that I can give to her, personally, what she deserves.”
He turned toward the growing dust cloud, shaking his fist in anger. “I wish for them all to get what they deserve! They… Erithia…she has ruined it all! Now it is her day to pay the price for such wicked insolence. She must suffer! They all must suffer! For all the evil done to us, retribution must be demanded back from them!”
Looking back into Legion’s hypnotic eyes, colored the richest of deep hazel hues, Alithea apologized. “It is not the fault of my dear, loving brother that evil has befallen Sirion or the others. It is the evil witchery of Erithia and those who stand arrogantly beside her in defiance of truth and justice! I find no sin in you at all. Indeed! You were the kindest and gentlest of all my brothers until that adulterous witch cast her evil spell over us.”
Lifting a hand, he shook a finger at Legion. “I promise! I swear! One day we will prevail over all this evil. We will take back the Palace and return to ourselves the hidden power Erithia stole from me, her brother. Yes, I say her brother, whom she claims she birthed! It is not the case at all! My inheritance she stole from me, and I shall one day retrieve it from her wicked hands. Then we shall see. Then we shall see...”
At that Alithea reached out, arms wide, and gave Legion a gripping embrace, kissing him tenderly upon the cheek. Legion affectionately offered Alithea a hug and kiss, speaking consoling words of sympathy to his older brother. This was the last part of the act Alithea so often played out among his senior officers, especially when the wine was on him. So long had the fable been told by this man that he was becoming to believe it, but Legion knew the facts - the reality that all living flesh was through the birthing into life by Erithia. Still, it was all the better to silently go along with the man. After all, there was hidden power somewhere. Maybe it was somewhere in the Palace.
At length, Legion stepped back, offering Alithea a warm smile. “I must be about my duties, else…” He stared into Alithea’s ocean blue eyes, revealing the longing in his own. “Everything must be perfect for the day, a few final details tended to. My lord and brother, I look forward to this night’s victory celebration.”
At that Legion hurried away toward the camp. Alithea turned once more to watch for but a moment the gathering dust clouds and then quickly followed his brother.
(Author’s Note: ‘Erithia’, a name given to Lowenah [Ma-we] by those who joined in the Rebellion, reflected the deep contempt harbored within their hearts for the one they used to call ‘Mother’. Its root meaning was ‘the causer of strife and faction’, and it reflected the common opinion of these children that she was the real villain and creator of division in the First Realm.)