The Three Kings

by Slawomir Rapala

Chapter II: A Line Undone

part 2 of 6

Aezubah, in the meantime, looked at the timeless forests through which the Duke and his son were presently travelling, from his spot on the defensive wall. From here he could direct the repair work conducted by the volunteers from the 15th legion who had come earlier from Triahnnem at his beckoning. From time to time he cast a gloomy stare toward the peaceful and nearly ripple-free ocean stretching into the horizon like a perfectly flat, shimmering canvas.

He scratched his head, his gaze uncertain. Everything in his being was screaming for him to do something about the Duke, to turn him around or to send reinforcements after him.

What for, though?

If he was wrong, Vahan would only be angered, and from their previous confrontations, Aezubah knew that it was best not to poke a sleeping lion.

What if he wasn’t wrong and they were in danger?

“Aezubah!” the captain of the legion approached, sweat pouring down his shirtless back.

“What?” the General barked, angered by having his thoughts interrupted.

“We’ve sealed the bottom portion of the fracture, but we need longer ladders to reach the top of the wall.”

Aezubah cocked an eyebrow and stared hard at the man, annoyed by the sheer triviality of his request. “You want me to bring them to you, too?” he snapped finally. “Find the stronghold keepers and get the keys to the tool shed.”

The man turned on his heel without a word and walked away pointedly. Aezubah looked after him with exasperation.

“Fools!” he mumbled. “So much at stake!”

The General clenched his teeth and looked again toward the green forests swaying beneath his feet. He furrowed his brow and thought over everything one more time, weighing in his mind the entire situation.

“To hell with it!” he barked finally, having at last parted with indecision.

Once he had reached a conclusion, there was no more hesitation in the old man. Briskly he climbed down the wall and headed for the main square. He called a pair of boys to his side.

“One of you run up to Youssef’s quarters and get his drunken arse down here right now.”

When the boy started off, the old man turned to the other. “You get yourself busy and saddle up my horse. And it had better be ready before those two come back or you may find a cold blade sneaking into your britches!”

Aezubah stood waiting for a while, pacing back and forth, when suddenly the first boy reappeared before of him. He was alone.

“Where’s Youssef?” the old man snarled.

“He’s gone! The guards said he left Jewel before dawn and went towards Triahnnem. He said something about needing a boat.”

Aezubah rubbed his eyes with obvious distrust. Something was wrong, and Youssef had something to do with it.

A terrifying thought had suddenly crossed the General’s mind. He turned and started towards the part of the quarters occupied by a handful of Wolves that Vahan befriended and trusted the most. The old man barged through the door and stood face to face with a dozen grim warriors who sat around a long table eating breakfast, laughing, drinking and gambling. They all stopped what they were doing when they saw Aezubah’s face.

They grew silent.

Something was terribly wrong.

* * *

Meanwhile, deep in the virgin forests covering the Lyonese peninsula, Vahan and his small company followed rapidly the narrow trail beaten down by fishermen and huntsmen, accompanied in each step by the ever-growing group of caracara circling above them.

“They’re really getting on my nerves,” one of the Wolves said, looking up and between the treetops. “I’d like to shoot a few of them down.”

“What’s the use?” the other one shrugged. “There’s so many up there you can’t even tell them apart. For each one you bring down, three more will spring up from the trees.”

“You know, they say that the caracara sense death and follow its smell.”

“They’re scavengers, you fool! They follow everything in the forest, hoping to steal a pinch for themselves.”

“No!” the first warrior halted. “They only follow people destined to die.”

“Everyone’s destined to die,” the second Wolf laughed.

“They smell death,” the first one shook his head. “The stench of death is on us and they know it.”

“Let’s just keep going,” the second warrior said with impatience and urged his horse past his companion.

The small party trekked along the tiny trail for some more time. The ocean and the coastal road were now directly to their left, but too distant to see, hidden by the trees.

“We’re almost there,” Vahan mentioned.

Iskald would know it without his father pointing it out because he knew all the surroundings of the small village by heart. He forced Ruppé to speed up and moved in front of Vahan. Following the tiny trail, the group soon came to a place where the trees formed an opening. They rode up a little rise, stopped and looked down into the dale beneath them.

Where they stood, the path made a sudden drop into the glade and continued in-between a dozen or so wooden huts, before climbing up the slope and disappearing back in the woods. The spot was beautiful. Green woods surrounded the small dale, the sun-bathed Azmattic Ocean glimmered on the left and to their right the travelers saw a massive escarpment towering over the village and the forest and the ocean. It was this charming little corner of the world that several families of fishermen chose to make their home.

Uaal was quite small. It consisted of barely a dozen huts that housed not more than three families each. The primitive households were made out of timber fitted together directly after it was cut down. Thatched roofs offered little protection from the rain that often lashed out on the coastline, but they cooled the inside of the huts during hot summer months. And when a thick layer of snow covered them in the winter, they also served as best insulators against the immense cold that visited the peninsula.

A few haggard-looking byres sheltered the limited number of cattle that the villagers owned and a few dozen chicks now wandering aimlessly between the huts: that was pretty much everything. The people of Uaal relied mainly on the ocean to provide them with food and the greatest treasure that they possessed were the six or seven swift sea-bearing vessels and several strong, hand-made fishing nets.

Iskald gazed at the top of the escarpment that towered over the surroundings and noted the very familiar, distinct shape of the crypt crafted out of granite stones. This was Dynah’s burial place. She wanted nothing more than to rest in the very place where she had been born and raised and where she had spent the happiest moments of her life, the place she preferred over all the cities and all the palaces that Vahan was willing to offer her.

The Duke also looked up at the site where his beloved wife was buried and he stared for a long time. His eyes then left the lonely crypt, slid down the rough edge of the crag and down to the village hidden in its shadow. A warm smile appeared on the usually so grim a face of Vahan. Nothing had changed here over the years, he thought.

He suddenly felt as if time had been magically reversed and it was only yesterday that he stumbled upon the village by complete accident, when chasing through the woods after a wounded boar. It was here that he met a beautiful peasant girl named Dynah, whose enchanting eyes put a spell on his heart and whose charming smile enslaved his valiant soul forever.

He had begun to worship her immediately with all his proud and noble heart, and she returned his feelings with love that was warm, compassionate, beautiful and everlasting. Some time later he married the girl and brought her into his palace.

Vahan smiled again.

He could recall all those warm summer evenings they had spent together, walking hand in hand through the same woods that surrounded them now. She showed him the beauty of the forest and because of her he was never a stranger in it again. The caracara never followed Dynah; they never dared to disturb the peace she brought with her and it was this peace and warmth that made every other living thing follow her trail. The roes would eat straight out of her hands; the birds would come from distant meadows just to listen to her song. Every living being in the forest came running when her light footsteps sounded in the forest and when her cheerful laughter filled the woods.

Vahan could not take his eyes off of this divine being, so simple and yet so much more noble than he could ever be, and he loved her with as much power and force, and as much tenderness and warmth as his heart would allow him to without bursting into a thousand pieces. That was why it was so difficult for him to accept her death even now, years after she was gone. Deep in his heart he knew that he would never again experience happiness and that only merciful death would rescue him from the incredible feeling of longing that gnawed away at his heart.

He heard distant voices calling out his name through time and space and he shook his head as if waking from a dream. The villagers had spotted the small party atop the rise and, having recognized their Duke, they hurried to greet him. The soft smile faded from his face, the emotion disappeared not to return again. His eyes assumed the usual grim and stern look for which he was so well known.

The Duke urged his horse forward, and within moments the small company found itself among the huts, surrounded by a group of smiling peasants who had left their chores in order to welcome their guests. The inhabitants were sincere and courteous. They greeted the Duke with quick, proud bows, exchanged a few words and one by one, they went back to their work.

To be continued...