Brenda Ansari, known as Ren, found out after the destruction of her home that she was in fact descended from an ancient line of kings. As such, she was the now rightful queen of the single kingdom that represented unity in a shattered world. With the recent threat of the Und'kal aliens, it was more critical than ever for her to assimilate the lands and allow mankind to stand in united resistance. With Zammar, and Tristan, she escaped the ruins of her home to travel across The Dragon Peak mountain range and warn other nations. Unfortunately, they reached the city of Kampalla too late, as it had been razed to the ground by a horde of vicious Und'kal.
Soon after arriving in The Blacklands city of Candahar, Ren found comfort in the company of an old warrior. The man was a change from the otherwise harsh atmosphere that the city had greeted the Queen with, reassuring her of her purpose. However, their talk was cut short by the sound of war drums. The same horde of Und'kal that had razed Kampalla had finally set their eyes upon Candahar, and now descend upon the city in bloodthirsty ferocity.
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Ren sat at the end of a mahogany table in a long, windowless room. The multitude of oil lamps hanging around the walls cast it in a dim orange glow, constantly flickering against the shadows of the people that sat around her. Zammar was by her side, across from the two chiefs. Two elder men sat along the length of the table, and across from them were two elder women. Sprawled across the table was a map detailing the layout of Candahar in the gentle valley, showing a thick blue line that represented the coursing way of the Arghan river behind the semi circular city. It was pretty clear that the desolate desert stretched out for a long way in every direction. Zammar and Abejide were staring at the map intently, searching desperately for any saving grace.
"The walls are weak, and this geography is no help - these low hills will not prevent the Und'kal from surrounding us on all three sides." Zammar commented, indicating to the terrain details solemnly. His presence seemed to add an enormous air of safety and awe to the room, as if in here they were immune to the enormous horde of monsters that charged from the west. Ren certainly felt much more comfortable with him by her side.
Abejide sighed with finality. "Indeed, Candahar's policy has always been one to attack, and make that our defense. This city was never made to withstand a siege of this scale."
"Our armies are strong. We should be able to hold off for a long time in front of the city...The enemy will already be weakened by their attack on Kampalla. Maybe, with the help of the gods, we can destroy them...Otherwise, we should be able to cripple their forces enough to allow the pharaoh to take care of it." Chief Hirat added confidently. She was a tall, very well muscled woman. Her long, dark hair fell behind a lean and sharp face in a single, thick braid. The leopard skin sash running across her torso did not do much to hide the giant breasts and their large, dark nipples. The woman seemed to exude an infinite supply of pheromones, her sexual energy was unreal. Ren kept glancing at Zammar, relieved to see that Hirat's eye bashing and advances seemed to have no effect on the man.
"The lads were telling me that their force looks numberless...Either Kampalla hardly fought, or the enemy received reinforcements." Elder Chima, an old man with a long red and white beard, said in a defeated voice.
"The Und'kal are not just individually strong, but they also hold the advantage in numbers. I do not expect a miracle in Candahar, especially if the force is of the same size as that which sieged Torst." Zammar said, his beautiful voice unfitting for words of such finality.
"Then we do not have much of a choice. Candaharran poison is being applied to all spears and scimitars, I pray to the gods that it affects these Und'kal. The Boomerang Throwers will take station on the walls, you say the enemy utilizes flying creatures to attack, that will be their focus. The rest of us will just have to group up and hold out together. May the gods watch us all." Abejide concluded, massaging his temple with long fingers.
"May the gods bless all who fall here tomorrow." Elder Esi, an old woman with wrinkled skin and large, whitening eyes, added.
The entire gathering fell silent for a long while, every individual thinking their own thoughts and slowly accepting the reality of their fate.
"What about the river?" Ren asked, as confidently as she could, into the silence.
"What about it? May it run red with the enemies blood." Chief Hirat replied, her eyes narrowing, boring in to Ren with their hostility.
"The women and the children, we can load them on the boats and send them downstream...they should be able to gain sufficient distan..."
"You mean to run!?" Chief Hirat exclaimed, standing up and smacking both hands on the table with a bang. The hostile look on the womans face caused Ren to shrink a bit in her seat.
"But the women and children..." She whispered, still shocked by the interruption.
Hirat spat across the table in Rens direction. "Do not throw the women of Candahar in with the cowards from Torst. We will stand by our men and fight to the death. That is our way; we do not run and accept being the last survivors of our homeland." Her eyes narrowed as the entire room fell in to a deafening silence.
Ren felt a stab through her heart, that had hit close to home.
"Hirat, the young queen fought on the front lines at the battle of Torst. In fact, she disobeyed the laws that governed her society out of desire to protect her home. She sits here today, not because of her cowardice but because she has a greater task to fulfill. And I promise you, she will survive Candahar." Zammar said in an unwavering voice that seemed to shake the room to its foundations. Hirat looked at him with wide, incredulous eyes, her confidence instantly dissipating at the presence of the mighty man. Without saying another word, she sat and stared down at the table in shame.
"I was just thinking...that to preserve your heritage..." Ren whispered shyly.
The elder Ife, who was sitting close to Ren reached over to place her wrinkled hands on Rens. "If we can not defend our own home...Our heritage does not deserve to be preserved...It is the will of the gods." Her voice was sad, but final.
"Enough of this," Abejide said with a sigh, "I am calling this meeting to an end, we have much to prepare and you all know what needs to be done. May the gods watch over us, and Candahar. Zammar, I wish to speak with you regarding the nature of our enemy."
Zammar placed a giant hand on Rens shoulder, she was still a bit shaken. 'It was a good idea,' he mouthed with a devilishly handsome wink before standing up and following the Chief out of the room. All of the elders were slowly ambling out of the room behind them, but Ren sunk back in her chair feeling lonely and embarrassed.
"I apologize for insulting you, Queen Ansari of Torst, you have earned my respect for fighting when the laws of your men would have you stand back." Chief Hirat had moved to stand by Rens chair, her calm voice caused Ren to jump out of her seat and look up at the large woman nervously.
"No, I am sorry that I didn't better understand your customs before making my suggestion...It was tactless of me." She replied, trying to keep her voice strong and level.
"Then, I shall escort you to your quarters. I assume you will be spending the fight with the elders."
"No, I will fight. And tonight...tonight I would like to spend with the men and women who will be giving their lives tomorrow."
"You continue to impress me, young queen." Hirat smiled coyly as her long fingers stroked Ren's hair, sending a shiver down her spine. Still, Ren felt herself smiling inwardly, maybe she had made a friend. "Though, I am not sure you will like what you see...our customs are usually considered...unorthodox to strangers."
Ren gave her a confident grin, "I can handle it. But I'm not sure if your people are too fond of me."
"Good," Hirat motioned to one of her procession girls that had just walked in. She was dark skinned, with long hair and an elegant body. Her face gave the impression of innocence, and a childhood that had only just been left behind. "Maria, I want you to help the queen for the duration of her stay...Do what ever she needs." Hirat gave Ren a sly wink before turning to walk seductively out of the room. At the doorway, she paused, "Show the people that you accept them, and they will welcome you."
*
Ren and Maria walked through the empty city streets, a few hours after the meeting. The sky had already turned dark, and stars were beginning to pop out from behind the clouds. The bright gibbous moon contributed to lighting the scene, but its glow was drowned by the orange of oil lanterns. The lanterns, hanging outside every hut, stretched down the streets endlessly, like long yellow lines stretching to the horizon in an alluring haze.
"Where is everyone?" Ren asked, still surprised at how desolate and large the streets looked without the crowds of people bustling about.
"My Queen, the city is at the Festival of Transcendence." Maria replied neutrally, keeping pace a few steps behind Ren.
"Um, call me Ren."
"Yes, my Queen."
"Right...What's the Festival of Transcendence?" Ren asked, staring down a dark and remarkably tempting alley.
"It is the feast where we ask the gods to grant us the strength of our old and passing warriors, so that their spirit may aid us in the battle to come."
"Oh, that sounds nice. Can you take me to it?" After the stint with Hirat, Ren was determined to learn and embrace the Candaharran culture. As the Queen of Torst, it was her duty to recognize all of the many cultures of the world, and work to their preservation.
"Yes, my Queen." Maria stepped forward and began to lead. She walked fast and with her head held high, causing Ren to stumble after her. After a few turns in to side streets, Ren soon found herself lost, completely relying on the lithe figure in front of her. Maria navigated the maze like streets of Candahar with the kind of confidence only a native could have. Still, Ren managed to keep up, recognizing huts and places she had seen before, eerily different now in the dull glow of the lamps.
The smell hit her very suddenly. Incredibly strong and tantalizing, the familiar scent of exotic spices permeated through the thin air without competition. Her stomach rumbled in eager anticipation. The aroma was so strong, that the quantity of spices being brewed must have been enough to feed the entire city. As they walked onward, the fragrance became even stronger, mixing now with some cooked meat. Soon, it was joined by the loud chorus of hundreds of human voices chanting in harmonious unity to a strong drum beat.
The sound and smell climaxed in intensity as Ren and Maria turned in to a street. Ren was surprised to see a strong orange glow coming from around the last house in the narrow alley. She was drawn forward by the thousands of voices, their mysterious and seductive lullaby seeming to capture her in its serene melody. It was incredibly loud. But still, the voices were harmonious, bringing ancient words to light with amazing clarity. Yet, the mysterious and drawn out syllables were indiscernible to her, identical to the archaic language she had heard that morning.
When she finally turned the corner, Ren gasped in surprise. The first thing to hit her was the sheer number of people. The immense mass of dark, sweaty, and nearly naked bodies squirmed and wiggled amongst one another, occupying the vast majority of the large circular plaza that the street opened in to. The group of people was slowly circling around a ring in their center, taking on the shape of the plaza that they occupied. So big was the gathering, that Ren could not see its far side. She was standing on a ring of free space at the very edge, a few meters from the people. Placed periodically along this, tall poles had strong fires atop them, lighting the entire scene in a consistent orange glow accentuated with long shadows. The shadows moved as giant waves caused by arms beating the air rippled across the plaza. The voices, usually a level chant, climaxed and waned in accordance to changes in the volume and temperament of the drums. The entire city must have been here.
Standing on her toes, Ren craned her neck to see over the mob. In their center, the large empty ring was occupied with three long, rectangular pavilions. At the front of each, an immense cauldron bubbled above a giant fire - the source of the strong spicy smell. Behind these, tall poles stuck out from another pile up of firewood. She could just make out the silhouettes of people scurrying on top of the pavilions, but could not see the ground below them.
Ren took a step forward, and suddenly the rhythm changed from tribal to a more intense beat. Almost as if it was rehearsed, the entire gathering suddenly and very abruptly stopped chanting to turn and face her. The lack of voices seemed incredibly out of place, instantly blanketing the world in melancholic submission to the drums. Then, the circle of people parted, opening a long and narrow path between the bodies directly in front of her straight to the empty circle within. Ren stood in stunned surprise. Thousands of eyes bore in to her. Logic told her that they were angry, offended, influenced by the ancient seeds of hatred. Yet, this was not what she felt. She felt like the people were questioning, challenging her.
"My Queen, they wish for you to join." Maria's voice came from behind her.
"Uh..." Ren managed to utter, still stunned speechless. There were over a hundred thousand eyes on her, waiting, judging.
Her mind completely blank, Ren took a cautious step forward, causing the entire gathering to abruptly erupt in to cheering and applause. The drum beat returned to its previous rhythm, and the crowd resumed its chanting. The partition in front of her remained, but suddenly, the people at the edge of the open path kneeled down on one knee to welcome her in. The world blurred around her as Ren walked through the opening, keep her chin held high like a good queen. As she did, the gap began to close behind her, recreating the thick circle and trapping her in its midst. Here, in the crowd, the smell was overwhelming. Mixed with spices, the odour of human beings and sweat caused her nose to sting with every breath. It was the probably this smell that made the ethereal experience real to her. Her heartbeat hammered, but she did not allow it to waver her poise. Instead, Ren held her breath and made forward steadily.
After an eternity, Ren finally reached the end of the crowd. She stepped out from the circle, past the uncrossed boundary, allowing the gap behind her to close and the circling movement of the mass of people to resume.
She looked around the clearing in the interior. The three pavilions rose formidably in front of her, heat from the flames under their cauldrons strong on her face. The two pavillions to her right and left both had groups of people circling them in a wild dance. Unlike the immense crowd behind her, these people were dressed up, wearing large wooden masks and long, colourful robes of various shades. Many of them were beating thick sticks above their heads, jumping and shaking their bodies to the indomitable rhythm of the giant drums that made a line by the edge of the clearing to her left.
Looking to her right, Ren noticed a long table set up at the end of the clearing. At it, Chief Abejide and Hirat were sitting side by side, an empty seat next to the woman. Zammar sat on Abejide's other side, and the four elders from the meeting were all on either side of their respective chief. All of them were looking at her. Abejide had his head resting on the back of his hands, his hard face questioning her. Hirat on the other hand gave Ren a playful look, with one eyebrow cocked and a naughty smile across her lips. Zammar was expressionless as he watched. Her eyes lingered on his masculine features, taking in the way his bulging chest glowed in the amber firelight, feeling the familiar numbing sensation deep in her belly.
Slowly, Ren shifted her gaze back to the pavillion to her right, the one nearest to the table. The cauldron was bubbling dangerously, but that did not stop the few brave men that had climbed up to its brim and were dumping chunks of cooked meat in to it from hard cutting boards. Directly behind the cauldron was another table, where a man was expertly cutting up more meat and placing it in neat piles to his right. Obstructed from view to his left, Ren could just see a large pile of bones that had been stripped clean. Behind him, was the tall pole. From this distance, Ren could make out the carvings of faces, very similar to the masks worn by the people that danced around the pavillion, running along the tall poles length. At its base was a spent bundle of firewood, embers still glowing softly.
The chanting reached a new crescendo. New, powerful words pierced the night air as the drums began to pick up in momentum. Ren turned to the pavilion on her left, where the dancers had begun an even more erratic and energetic dance. She started walking forward and saw that a pair of people were carefully removing a figure from the tall pole at the back of the pavilion, kicking up the fire beneath as they did so.
Realization struck Ren like a cannonball. There, tied by burned bonds on the demon faced pole, was the body of a human being. The man had been cooked. Globules of liquefied fat dripped down from the semi charred body, feeding the fire in periodic frenzies and making the removal that much more difficult. The corpse was completely rigid, arms held up spiritually above the bald, eyeless head. Having shrunk during the process, it looked remarkably stifled. Stupefied, she watched as it was quickly moved to the table in front of the pole. The crowd's chanting reached a climax. Suddenly it didn't sound mystical and mysterious to her - just brutal. One of the pair of men took a giant cleaver, and with loud yells began to carve meat off the glistening remains.
Ren gasped in shock, turning around to face the central pavilion. She felt incredibly sick; her stomach rumbled queasily and her legs wobbled as she keeled over and clutched her knees. She almost belched, swallowing the sour liquid back with a loud gulp. Thousands of eyes were burning in to her back as she slowly stood back up and took many deep, panicked breaths to try and re stabilize her self. She had said she could handle it.
When she opened her eyes, Ren realized that the cauldron on the central pavilion was only just starting to boil. Behind it, a group of people were piling up pieces of wood below the pole, preparing to light a large fire. At the pavilions side, in front of the steps that led up to it, a familiar, completely naked, figure was sitting on the ground in a meditative pose. Ren recognized the old man instantly, though his skin had been painted a rich red from the spices she had seen him applying to it and his beard had been cut off, revealing a wrinkled chin.
He opened a single eye, and beckoned to her. As she approached, still feeling nauseous, the smell of sweat and spices off him mixed with the over whelming fragrances from the cauldron overhead.
"Why?" She managed to whisper hoarsely once she was right in front of him.
The Old man looked up to the sky, a smile playing across his lips. "Mmm, this is the Festival of Transcendence...The end of my journey as a warrior." His voice was lighthearted, playfully brooding.
"Why?" she whispered again, "Your journey...it isn't, it can't be over..."
"Oh, but it is. Time has come for me to give my strength to the new generation." His eyes glinted in the orange light as he took them off the stars to look at her.
"But..."
"It is of course the greatest honour a warrior of Candahar can have! To survive to this day, then display his courage one last time!" He gave her a wink.
"No! They can't make you do this!" Ren cried desperately.
"Oh, but little girl, I want to." His smile was warm, and understanding.
"But...You said you don't even believe in the city gods! You said..." She felt desperate now, tears were threatening to burst out of her eyes. No man should have to die such a horrible death, and a warrior deserved a peaceful end to his life.
The Old man looked down at the ground for a moment, before giving her a new, sad smile. "Oh, little girl, it does not matter what I believe. What matters, is what they believe." He said, motioning dramatically to the massive crowd behind her.
"But what they're going to...what they're going to do to you...it won't make them any stronger! They can't make you!" The tears were streaming down her face now.
"Of course it will make them stronger!"
"No it won't!" She yelled desperately. "Gods never listen, they don't care about us!"
The man didn't say anything for a long time, closing his eyes to her sudden outburst.
"Sorry..." Ren whispered after a while, once she felt herself calming in his somber presence.
Finally, he opened an eye with a smile and beckoned to the space beside him. When Ren slowly approached to stand by his side, he gestured to the immense, faceless crowd before them. "Young Queen, there is power in belief, in faith. It is not a gift from the gods. No, little girl, it comes from here." He motioned with a red hand to where his heart was. "Faith feeds bravery to the soul, and gives people the strength they need to overcome their challenges. It gifts courage, and lets us accept death with open arms. Many people, little girl, are so afraid of dying, that they forget how to live. But faith, the gods, heroes...they all give a man strength. And the man with something to believe in, believes in himself. When a man believes in himself, he can do anything."
"But..." she managed to whisper hoarsely.
"Do you not understand? These people will fight to their deaths tomorrow. Tonight, they need this. To give them this one last gift of courage, that is my deepest desire."
"I don't want you to go..." She whispered between the tears.
The man gave her a warm smile. "Young Queen, you will be the one to lead our people in to the next golden dawn. I leave the future and well being of my children, my home and my people to you. And, you must always remember the power of belief. Never forget, little queen, that the people...The people will always need something, someone to believe in."
Ren threw her arms around the sitting man in an embrace, ignoring the sticky feel of his skin. After a long while, she whispered "I won't let you down...I promise." Tears still flowed freely from her eyes, the thought of the mans fate etched permanently in her mind.
"You won't." The man replied levelly. "Now go, Chief Hirat is waiting for you. And this old man, leave this old man to brood on his happy thoughts one last time."
*
Ren stood at the edge of the wooden parapet. The wall in front of her ended in sharp spikes, mirroring the one a few meters behind. The memories of last night were still fresh in her mind. She had painfully kept her eyes on him as the Old man burned in the leaping fire. He did not even scream, but simply closed his eyes in silent meditation. Before she knew it, it was over and his dripping body was being removed from the pole. When a large bowl brimming with soup was placed in front of her, Ren has simply pushed it away, refusing to give it a second thought. She had been relieved to see that Zammar similarly did not touch his. That did not, however stop the Chiefs and elders around her from devouring theirs greedily.
Cheering erupted through the city when the last fire had finally been put out. Ren was surprised to see how happy the city folk had suddenly become. It was as if all of the burdens and worry they had been previously visibly carrying had vanished in harmonious acceptance; the resulting strength brought on from the sacrifice of three of their own warriors.
Ren shook her head, causing her pony tailed hair to swivel with it, and tried to focus on the scene around her. Below, the entire Candaharran army- consisting of every citizen above the age of ten and below eighty was sprawling hurriedly, assembling in to their final formation. From above, it was a massive, tightly packed semi-circle that extruded outwards from the city gates to surround the circular wall like an extension of itself. The pointed spears held by the warriors at the front looked like hedgehog quills, running the entire length of the wall and pointing straight out at whatever angle deemed necessary by the geometry of the city.
In front of the semi-circular arrangement, there were two squares - the more elite soldiers handpicked by the Chiefs. Their spears had red streamers dangling down decoratively beneath the poisoned tip, and their loin clothes were all made of leopard skin. The one on the left consisted solely of women and on the right was solely men. In between the two squares were three figures. Chief Hirat's muscular thighs were bare and visible as she stood tall, her braided hair looked identical to the night before. There were two blades on her back, one curved like a sickle and the other sharp and straight. Chief Abejide was closest to the group of elite soldiers that consisted of men. In his hand, the long halberd had a wicked curved edge that glinted in the sun as he held it vertically to his side.
Rens eyes were drawn to the indomitable figure that stood between them. Zammar had donned his red cape again, and here it undulated gently in the wind, which also blew his hair gracefully. The immense muscles on his folded arms seemed to wave, the fibres constantly flexing and un flexing. Massive shoulders popped out from behind the cape, hinting at the bare chest beneath. Calesol, the Lightbringer, was still sheathed across his back, prepared to once again shed blood in the name of peace. Ren shivered erotically at the site of the muscular man. Oh, how she imagined his handsome face looked like from the front.
She turned away, with difficulty, and looked down to scan the rest of the army. Most were carrying the poisoned spears and had curved scimitars at their belts. They were also, for the most par naked. It was a stark contrast to the battlefield in front of Torst, where the minimum was chain mail. Here, the dark, glistening bodies seemed so vulnerable, easily vulnerable to the Und'kal claws. She hoped that at least they would be faster. Which would be an advantage, since a non-glancing blow from an Und'kal warrior would probably rip through mail anyway. She hurriedly spotted Tristan, the single person in armour, who was standing near the front of the line, directly in front of her. He looked remarkably out of place, so much so that she almost laughed. She would keep an eye on him.
Cast in light by the rising sun behind her, just a few hundred meters in front of the mass of people beneath, the enormous Und'kal horde was approaching remarkably fast. She could already make out the spiteful faces of the warriors at the front as they struggled against one another to try and gain station at the spear point of the charging mob. She noticed, feeling a tiny sliver of relief, that with this army she could actually make out the wrecked plains on the other side, meaning that it was smaller than that which had sieged Torst. But, when she looked down and compared it to the size of the defending army, her hope vanished pretty quickly.
Ren brought her bow down from where it hung on her shoulder, glancing down at the barrel of arrows next to her. It was overflowing with the artifacts - bows were not used at all in The Blacklands, and these had been gathered in previous battles with The Whitelands. At the barrels bottom, a thick layer of the Candahharan poison covered the arrow heads and seeped in to the shaft. There were similar barrels in front of the hundred or so boomerang throwers that lined the wall on her sides. Except these were filled to the brim with small, sharp blades that were inserted in to the boomerangs. There were two identical boomerangs on each throwers back. A thinner handle led to the curved wood, the edge of which consisted of a sharp blade. Above the blade, small compartments were filled with the knives and would open, spraying a fan of the blades when the boomerangs had reached a certain speed.
"Roma, tell the throwers to focus on those." Ren yelled, pointing to the giant winged beasts that were slowly circling above the Und'kal army. "And, make sure they aim for the back of the enemies army, we don't want our own people getting hurt."
Roma, a thick woman with dark skin but surprisingly light blonde hair nodded at her before turning and articulating the orders down the wall.
Chief Abejides strong voice carried from below. "FOR OUR ANCESTORS!" His yell was met by deafening cheering and stomping from the army. "FOR THE GODS!!" More cheering. His legs tensed as he bent them. "FOR CANDAHAR!" The army followed their leader as he charged in to the incoming horde. The sides of the semi circular arrangement split in half, the front half moving forward to form a crescent and forcing the enemy in to smaller space, while the back remained to defend the wall. The tightly packed crescent moved forward behind the elite soldiers and chiefs with pointed spears and incredible grace.
Ren loaded an arrow and looked through her sight just as the two armies clashed.
Hello beloved fans and everyone else!
I hope that you have been enjoying the story so far. I realize that this part is actually reasonably (very?) disturbing. In fact, it deals a lot with something that has always sent shivers down my spine just thinking about it. However, sometimes it's important for us to understand another persons way of life before we make harsh judgments!
Anyway, part 8 is really exciting, so I hope you guys are looking forward to it as much as I am!
Thank you very much for taking the time to read these stories. My appreciation can not be displayed enough through these things called words. And, on that note, please tell me what you think! There is always room for improvement and constructive criticism is much appreciated! (as of course are blind, ego-feeding comments - I love those!)
Also, is this default font/size/ etc. okay? Or does it burn your eyes!?
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