Book 7, Chapter 24: Then There Was One
In the war room, generals around the table of maps, their assistants lining the walls, I waited for their response.
“Ma’am,” General Mazdak went down on one knee, all the assistants followed, shoes scraping along the ground, books being set down, then my bodyguards excepting Mest, who remained standing and carefully observing everyone. With his head bowed, he said, “I swear to serve you in whatever capacity you desire, Your Divine Majesty.”
Abtin quickly glanced at Sasan, while Sorstram fell to a knee, repeating, ““I swear to serve you in whatever capacity you desire, Your Divine Majesty,” before the two generals likewise gave me obeisance, Dareb following last, words not quite as sharp as the others.
I was about to speak when Mestamir stepped forward, left fist clenched, right hand tight around her sword as she drew it, slamming it sideways on the table, stealing every pair of eyes in the room, “That is not enough! You are swearing oaths to a goddess!” She pointed around the room, “Who saved all your lives yesterday! And why should she? Why should she save you again tomorrow? You!” lifting up her sword, she pointed it at an assistant, “Tear off those symbols and cast them to the ground!”
He nervously looked around, but everyone avoided his desperate gaze, and slowly reached up to his golden necklace – symbols I did not recognize – tearing it from his neck, tossing it to the stone underfoot.
After him, a few more people, somewhat more quietly, removed necklaces, and one man, rings, spattering against the floor.
Mest quickly glanced back at my other bodyguards, one gave a nod so subtle I’d have missed it if I wasn’t directly looking, and all six fell to both knees, heads bowed. She pointed at them, “That is how you worship Empress Cayce!”
Sasan looked at Abtin, but couldn’t catch his eyes, as the older man had already bowed his head. Sweat ran down Dareb’s face, and Mazdak had already moved to two knees.
Not really what I wanted out of life, if I’m being honest. I touched Mest’s shoulder, mustering a warm nod. She closed her eyes, bowed her head, and backed up, dropping to her knees.
Taking a deep breath, “Thank you everyone. Please stand. We, all of us here, have a lot of work to do before we are in the clear yet.” To myself, mostly as a joke, I silently added, ‘Before we begin building cathedrals in my name.’ Yeah, this was perfectly comfortable. And normal!
The generals stood first, assistants next, with the one who was called out going last, and then Mest and her fellows.
“Now, General Sorstram what did you recover in terms of their baggage train?”
“Ma’am,” he inclined his head, “a full accounting has been made and I shall have the ledgers brought to you. In brief, these are armies built for speed. Their wagons are horse-drawn and not oxen, number more than five hundred, perhaps thirty thousand women and more children, and cattle and chickens as livestock. What took us so long, and I apologize for that, my lady, was a small defense force which instead of attacking we reasoned with. We are finding board for them in abandoned buildings, but we’ll probably have to use their tents.”
“Thank you, General. I don’t need to see the ledgers.”
“May I make a suggestion?” asked Mazdak. “Perhaps we can offer them houses in the new city, where the walls have fallen. Their men would have real motivation to defend our city subsequently.”
Dareb nearly shouted, “And what about our citizens?!” As Abtin placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice dropped to a normal volume, “We . . . we cannot go giving away our citizenry’s property!”
Sorstram asked, “Do we know which houses have been fully abandoned?”
“That’s not the point! Our soldiers take priority over our enemies! Surely!”
Sasan faced the brown haired general, “You’ve raised valid concerns. No need for anger.” He turned to me, “Perhaps we should make inquiries with the noble families to find acceptable dwellings for these people?”
“Ah.” What a mess I’d found myself in. If these people truly thought I was a goddess, here to save them, they’d bend over backwards in foolishness to appease me and that wouldn’t help us at all. But handing our newest recruits over to a bunch of nobles seemed like a terrible idea. Aristocrats would likely see them as commodities, not new citizens. “Do we have urban planners? Census, uh, takers?”
Abtin nodded, “Both urban planners and enumerators are at your service.”
I was half tempted to clear the room and speak to the generals alone. Though I had no idea what I’d say. Apologizing for Mest’s religious fervor seemed counterproductive. But so did letting it run rampant. At the same time . . . did it help? When she expressed her devotion this morning – this morning, today! – I felt renewed. At the battle for the city, I was unstoppable. She’d clearly convinced her compatriots to follow her lead. Maybe, maybe their worship enabled my endurance. Oh, but the entire notion was distasteful!
The room waited on my response. “Tents for now. Erect them on the intact side of the city wall. And have the enumerators map out abandoned housing. We’ll work this out and prioritize our own soldiers. Thank you, General Dareb for championing our men. Let’s move on. How are our catapults? And the trebuchet I outlined earlier, uh, this morning. Any progress? We need to counteract their siege weapons. We cannot allow them to destroy more of the wall.”
Sasan said, “Despite your detailed instructions, a few hours is not enough time to build these weapons, let alone test them. The smithies have built catapults and we’re moving them to key positions on the walls and rooftops, but I must stress, our defenses were not designed with these in mind.”
“No, you had mages fulfilling that function. Alright. Keep me appraised of the situation. The sooner we get those ready, the better off we’ll be. Any news on our army in the field?”
“None, ma’am. No scouting parties have returned.”
“Damn.” No point in asking them why, they wouldn’t know. Either the enemy army had found and captured or killed them, or monsters had, or something else. And that worried me, since I hadn’t been attacked by agents of the Others in some time. Perhaps I was in too populated a place. Yet I worried it was for worse reasons. Were they building an army of monsters? Pooling their resources to manifest some truly horrible creature? Not something I could work out on my own.
Looking up from the table, I said, “Alright. Will they attack tonight? Best guesses, please.”
Mazdak shook his head, “Not tonight. They have to set up their encampment, build defenses in case we attack, and ready their catapults.”
“They might try probing attacks,” said Sasan, “but I expect they’ll mainly send scouting parties to examine our preparedness, how many are manning the walls, determine whether they can cut off our food supplies, and so on.”
“Yes. Tell me what they would do if they did not defeat Serce? If they knew our army was out there and returning? How would they prepare?”
Mazdak, fingers rubbing the black stubble on his chin, looked from the table to me, “If they believed a second army was fully intact and nearly here, they’d most likely try to meet it in the field. But not this near the city, as we’d ride out in support. If, on the other hand, our army was largely defeated, the enemy would likely set up many patrols surrounding the city, but some distance away to locate and prevent their rejoining us here.”
Abtin said, “That may explain their current position, directly south of us. They are preventing passage to us.”
“And what does that mean for our scouting parties?”
“Ma’am,” said Sorstram, “if any made it to our army, it’s possible the, uhm, commander retained the scouting parties to protect them.”
“I see. Gentlemen, we may have an army out there, then. How do we get into contact with them?” I wondered what message I would send to Serce. ‘Come home to get hanged. And please bring your army.’ How did I find myself taking an empire in the middle of a war with most our military power in the hands of the usurper’s brother?
Sorstram said, “With the newly captured horses, we could send out a large force to the north. They could circle wide around the enemy and seek out our army.”
“I don’t like it,” Mazdak crossed his arms. “The enemy has more men. If our army is out there, the enemy is observing us closely. We’ll lose by attrition sending out ever larger scouting parties.”
“And,” Sasan began, “we could put those horses to good use here.”
“They’re but draft horses,” said Dareb. “Not suitable for battle.”
Sasan waved his right hand, “They can haul stone and men. Shoring up our defenses, even rebuilding the city wall, will be made quicker with them. Ma’am,” he faced me, “reinforcements are on the way from throughout the empire and should be here within the week. The situation is not so desperate as it appears. We can hold, even if they breach the city walls.”
Looking around the room, most people seemed to agree with him. Or, at least, disbelief wasn’t running rampant on their faces. “Excellent, excellent. In summary, we have to prepare for their siege weapons and any possible assault. I want lines of defense at each and every street and crossroads in case they break through the city walls.” Looking at the map, visualizing the enemy encampment outside of range outside and to the south, I wondered. Our catapults were crude, made only recently, and in response to these generals seeing the enemy’s weapons. A weakness proven by our already failed city walls to the east. Our catapults were not a deterrence and were barely adequate. “Sorstram, how many cavalry can we field?”
“Perhaps five hundred of the men who rode with you, my lady. And we captured perhaps another thousand of their horses.”
“I want a ranged cavalry battalion readied. The best archers you can find who can ride.”
“Your will, Divine Empress.”
It was the best I could do, given what we had. I wondered how honest these men’s oaths were, but there was nothing further I could do about it. We’d find out when and if Serce returned. Even then, it would likely depend on just how many soldiers he and I had left. “Thank you, gentlemen. Please organize our defense. I will meet with the waiting nobles.” Looking at each of the generals in turn, I said, “We will meet this challenge. We will survive until reinforcements arrive.”
After the honorifics, I left. Even before the door shut behind me, orders were being given, assistants running about. What did I miss? What further could I do? I didn’t know and time would not only tell, but beat my mistakes into me.
Yet we only had to last the week. From what I knew of history, it was doable. Except that their siege weapons were better than ours.
***
On the way to the waiting nobles, I wondered if I should ask Mest to calm down a bit. Her out of hand yelling at people to worship me was me was not a great look. And probably weakened my position overall, as it was based purely on fear. At least, that’s how the generals see it.
It wasn’t like I wanted to be worshipped. Though, if it helped me cultivate power, why not?
Because it was repulsive. Perhaps the original Loki would have enjoyed the attention, the adoration, but for me, it was like mom telling your date how cute and charming you are. A lot on the yuck side.
But, no. Perhaps a gentle talk later. Not now. Not where we could be overheard and not in front of her fellows. Ask Martin Luther. There’s nothing worse than a true believer scorned by their faith. I did not need Mest nailing ninety-five reasons why I was an absolute disaster onto any door.
After all, my own list was twice as long and twice as loud.
On the other hand, it’d be lovely to get Archbishop Ghevont and First Worshiper Mestamir in a room together. The thought brought a smile to my face. I liked the man somewhat, but wow, he really didn’t care much for child rulers. My bodyguard could beat some sense into him.
Arriving at the door, I turned to her, “Let me handle this. No one can speak for me in front of those people.”
She bowed her head, “Yes, my lady.”
Touching my hand to hers, “Or we’ll have to execute the lot of them.”
Grasping my hand, a little smile on her face, she said, “It would be a true pleasure.”
“Get the rope. Wait! That was a joke. Ah, just . . . just wait here, ok? Don’t allow anyone to enter.”
“Ma’am,” asked Amytis, stepping forward, “may we examine the room first? To ensure your safety.”
I was losing this battle, but I didn’t facepalm. Not yet. Stepping aside, arm to the room, “Please.”
He opened the door and they entered. Presumably going from noble to noble, checking for weapons. Perhaps imagining the nobles’ necks surrounded by nooses. Or seeing potential worshipers, if Mestamir had her way.
I didn’t enter. And I resisted the urge to cross my arms. Oddly, Gun came to mind. The first man to kiss me in this world. It was a room like this where he first proposed our union. How young and naïve I was! Only a few months ago. I missed him.
But I would see him again in the afterlife, for he died in battle.
They exited the room, lining up outside along the wall, facing the hallway. Amytis said, “We deem it safe, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
Walking forward, about to push open the door, it shut of its own accord, bumping me backwards. Adjusting my feet and shaking my head, annoyed at physics, I turned the handle and entered.
Blond beard and braided hair, the God of War stood before a crackling campfire. “Sister! Please join me.”
Left and right, blackness. As my eyes adjusted, evergreens slowly became visible, their bodies growing heavenward even as their arms pointed to the Earth. Without looking, I knew no door was behind me. And I was happy! Smiling, I walked toward the large man, padded leather pants and a thick leather vest, bulging arms reaching for me, went up on my tippytoes and hugged him, kissing his cheek, “Brother! You have found me in the real world! Did you defeat the Others?”
“I made you ale. Black as our Father’s soul and thick as the fattest cow’s milk! The very ale that brought us so many celebrations in Valhalla!” He passed me a giant horn and picked up his own. “Made from the extinct Irish elk. To your health!”
“To Valhalla!”
We drank.
Near the campfire, two logs. We sat down opposite each other, flames between us. They danced, reaching into the sky, sending their essences up and up, white hot coals propelling them, hotter than any fire had a right to be.
Ripples of orange and yellow light danced on his bearded face, and I asked, “How are you?”
“Truth be told,” his shoulders slumped and back bent, “I am spent. I apologize, Sister, for I am undone.”
“No! Are you truly defeated?”
“I have no path to victory. I go to Valhalla!” He drank deeply.
Raising my horn in deference to him, I then emptied it. “Still defeated and you are a champion ale brewer!”
Lifting an earthenware jug, he poured first for me, and then him. He drank, I drank. He lifted his horn, saying, “You drink of my being, you drink of my blood.”
Looking into the horn, it sloshed thick and red, spilling over to drip down my hand, drop by drop falling, and I wiped and wiped my mouth, blood on the back of my hand. “No! What did you do?”
Reaching across the burning flames, he took hold of my wrist. The flames licked his flesh and found it desirable, but still he held tight and firm. “It is not an easy task. What you have to do.”
“Your arm! Let go – please, Brother, let us talk and revel until the morning!”
He pulled my arm toward him and into the fire, “The only path before you is Father’s.”
Sweat ran off my flesh where the flames bit in. I tugged and tugged, but it was like fighting iron. “No, no I can’t. I won’t!”
“What you have asked of me, what you tasked me to do, has killed me. I die for you, Sister. I die because of you.”
Through clenched teeth and pain, I had to ask, “The Others! Are they free?”
“I was their leash and I am gone from this mortal world.”
“Then we are lost! I cannot defeat such beings.” I kicked the wood away and pulled against him with both hands, “Let go my arm, the fire burns!”
He squeezed more tightly, drawing me to his face, his deep blue eyes, “The path of the Allfather lies open.”
“What? The old man is dead?”
“You will take it. Sister.”
“No! I will not! Brother, are They free? Are the Others free???”
He drew me further into the flame, it danced upon my clothing, my long hair catching fire. I pulled and pulled. “Let go!”
“All I have is given. All I have, yours.”
He released my arm and I fell back, brushing and brushing at the fire trying to quench it, suddenly stone was beneath my feet. I fell into the door to the noble’s room, hands on it for support, but my legs failed and I dropped to my knees, head against the wood. No longer burning, not quite numb.
“Ma’am! Ma’am?” Mest crouched down and took hold of my right arm, “What’s wrong? What has befallen you?” She turned away, “You and you! No one can see this!”
Footsteps here and there, yelling at people, I can’t understand the words.
She leaned in, “Ma’am?”
“My brother is dead. The God of War is dead. Mest,” I turned fully around, back against the door, and could not make her out, she was blurry, my cheeks were wet and I felt the weight of the tears as they left, “I am undone. We are lost. I can’t do it. I can’t.”
“My lady, you are the Goddess of War. You and you alone.”
“No, no, you don’t understand . . . I’m just a girl. Not even a shadow of a god. I can’t fight Them.” Yes, my brother’s voice echoed in my mind, you can. You must take Father’s path. That’s what he said and there was no possible way I could fulfill it. It was suicidal. Worse. It demanded sacrifice.
No. My big man, Morry. Brin! I would not. I would not!
It didn’t matter what I did now for this city, against the foreign invaders, what this silly battle was for. The Others were coming.
Yet I had to do something. And it had to be now. “Tell, Mest, tell the nobles in there to go home. And send someone to round up my generals before they disperse.”
“Yes, ma’am! But first,” she dragged me to my feet, “let’s get you up.”
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