Chaturanga

“To the Duke of Laodinshnider, Vicar of the Highlands, esteemed servant of Tyrus the Incomparable, God-King Undefeatable, on the 7th of Aym in the year of our Lord. It is with the most unbiased of intent and truncated formal sensibilities that I inform you our treaty uniting us against Gairoadyn, Demon Sorcerer under the Sea, is hereto cancelled and made of none effect. Gairoadyn’s armies decimated my village in the Lower Establishment, armies led by their dark princess with your eldest son by her side.

As there has been no word from you in regards hence, it can only be understood as an intentional act; one of treachery, and thus of war. By the time this letter reaches your eyes, I shall already be outside your walls. And when you finally understand that there is no escape, that there is no one coming to save you, I will already have your heart pumping lifelessly in my hand.

With sincerest regards and the utmost respect,

Governor Morin, Ruler of Greenleaf”

The Duke crumbled the parchment and tossed it aside, resting the laurels of his chin upon thinly steepled fingers.

** ** **

Their breath was erratic, a salty beast of blinding sweat trapped within their helmets as they raced towards the mid-point; there was a bank of trees they could use for cover against the Laodinshnider forces coming to meet them. Governor Morin had been firm in his training about the mid-point.

Control the mid-point, you control the battle. Overhead, giant orbs of flaming rock were lobbed through the air, waging bitter conflict against the outer walls of the Duke’s castle, thudding with relentless abandon like a game of darts played by the mountain mages of old. The gates to the castle opened, moat-bridge dropped like thunder, and the tide of beleaguered warriors came flooding out just as Ken and Seva reached the mid-point.

“Do you ever think this mid-point stuff is complete hog-shite?”

Seva looked grim as he responded.

“I think the first ingredients in the Governor’s prized cake are the broken eggs.”

Ken snorted.

“Well, that’s hardly comforting.”

They shared a terse laugh. Way off in the dim horizon’s frozen glint of sunlight, they could see the two massive siege towers rolling slowly towards the battle. Their job, along with the other footsoldiers- klannen- was to open up the lanes so the siege towers could reach the Duke’s stronghold. The catapults launched another ball of flaming death through the air. The two friends nodded at one another. That one had been closer. They were aiming, not at the walls now, but at the incoming soldiers. One more to go…

THWACK.

The catapult released another missile; Ken and Seva readied their blades and counted down.

6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1-

“YAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

They leaped around the edges of the bank gutting the first two soldiers to run up on them. The battle was on.

** ** **

Hotly stained fragrance squeezed the dream state of the holy man; Inferno. Shadows of the dead, draped in flames, half faced Never Borns charging, cleaving chunks off his flesh with their 12 eyed, screaming battle axes. A horned mountain swelling before him, blotting out the sky. Legions of tiger faced roaches flooding the air. The burning mountain of darkness blinks away the veil.

It is the face of his dead mother, her hands stretching towards him, longer and longer, a single whisper taking flight off her jagged, putrid lips. “Coooowaaaaarrrrd…” Her hands, rougher than the disciplining callouses of his father, sealed themselves around his neck — a sorcerer’s spell of damning confinement. Slowly his mother began to squeeze. Tighter and tighter… her burning eyes bore into his… tighter and tighter…

The High Priest of Greenleaf jerked himself out of his trance, panting heavily, sweat rolling down his face and back. His meditation chamber was now black, smoke from the formerly lit candles curling accusingly out of the window. The High Priest took a shuddering breath, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He knew what he had to do.

** ** **

“This is not going well, husband.”

The Duchess of Laodinschnider, thought repulsively hideous by all in the kingdom save the klannen and the Duke himself, stared out from the tops of the castle into the battle beyond. Her bespeckled, nearly translucent hand went straight to her sword, albeit in vain.

It was she who had turned the tide during the clash against the Goat Herders, she to whom word had been sent about today’s battle, and she who had spent the last reserves of her mighty power returning to her Duke in time to make what preparations could be made and begin the patience-laden process of re-gathering her strength.

A sigh escaped her throat.

“Husband. They approach with full army, plus flanking siege towers.”

The Duke’s eyes glowed with anger, as he remained slouched in his regal chair.

“Let them come.”

** ** **

A vicious looking, exceptionally lean horseman riding bareback and wearing NO armor, speared Ken through the eyes and out the back of his head with one smooth stroke.

“KEN!!”

The horseman tossed a wicked smile in Seva’s direction as his terrifying steed rose high in the air, and came trampling down on two other klannen, rendering them a muddy, pulpy smear on the dirt. Seva could feel the attention of horse and rider as they pivoted and came galloping towards him.

Seva raised his shield and nearly vomited as he felt himself suddenly flung through the air like so much discarded food from a dinner fork. The horseman’s might and speed had been so great that he had actually struck the shield with the point of the spear, and then used his strength and momentum to throw Seva through the air.

Seva landed heavily on his shield arm, hearing a catastrophic crack that he was too adrenaline pumped to yet feel. He looked up in time to see the horseman’s spear tailing him along the same trajectory. Thwumf. He was staked into the dirt. He coughed up the blood that was in his throat.

The horseman trotted over to him gleefully, salivating heavily over the kill. Seva looked up at him and smiled. The horseman looked confused. He turned; high above them both, swooping down at lightning speeds was Atoa — the Governess of Greenleaf. Her crackling sword was unsheathed and through the horseman and his horse ten times before she landed.

Seva gurgled weakly, surrendering to death’s cold, dark touch.

Governess Atoa’s brown eyed, earth-toned periphery shimmered as the High Priest of Greenleaf materialized through a tunnel utilizing the off angles of reality. She nodded to the fallen klannen at their feet, then whipped around hurling her sword at the walls behind the moat, crumbling them all with a single blow. The armies of Laodinschnider panicked at the sudden exposure, and turned a full retreat even as the Governess waved her warriors on at full speed.

The day was nearly done.

** ** **

The Duchess stood with drawn sword in the center of the room. A body came flopping through the window. A dead klannen from Greenleaf. The couple exchanged a glance. For the first time, the Duke looked worried. The door slammed open and Governess Atoa burst inside heading straight for the Duchess.

They fought viciously, the Governess with grim certainty and the Duchess with violent desperation. Their bladework grew too quick for the Duke to follow, but he knew his wife could not hold this pace for long. And then the impossible happened. The Duchess nicked open a vein on the Governess’ forearm and in the half-second reaction, ran the Governess through completely.

She dropped to the floor, eyes wide with shock. The Duchess managed a smile through the sweat, and then sank slowly to the floor. It was over.

Slow claps. The Duke and Duchess looked up. The Governor of Greenleaf walked through the doorway. How did he get here so fast? The Governor and Duke locked eyes.

“I told you how this would end.”

The Duke gasped as he felt his heart exit his body and appear in the open palm of the Governor. The Duchess watched weakly from the floor as the High Priest of Greenleaf again stepped out of a peripheral angle and into the room. His hands were red as he crouched over the dead klannen, muttering ancient words. And then the Duke understood. Atoa had not been overcome; she sacrificed herself to open up a portal for the Governor. And the klannen before him…

“A worthy sacrifice,” whispered the High Priest. And with a puff of light the klannen began to resurrect, but not as himself — it was the Governess who was brought back to life, smiling with eyes full of fierce victory. Except the Duke saw none of it.

He was already dead, Governor Morin’s own knife standing erect in his vibrating heart.

A heart pumping lifelessly in the Governor’s hand.

###