Banners of The Sa'yen, page 15
And I was laughing! Laughing like a madman in delight as cannons belched out broadside after broadside of fire and smoke, the air filled with screaming shot and shell. I was a follower of the Sa'yen! And nothing could stop the Lord!
IX
The Grief of the Gods
For days after escaping the howling mob of Pictii Priests, I had been watching the Master and the Charolarl Priest On the night of our escape, while the building the priest and I stood on blazed brightly in the night sky, the storm which had been brewing for most of the night finally struck. And struck with such fury that for hours our only hope was to save the Black Falcon from running aground on the rocks cliffs above and below Triisus. But it was the storm which had permitted us to escape the raging battle above the mountain city. We had, for five straight days, been riding the strong winds of the storm’s vanguard and were now far south of the mountain city I once called home.
But in those five days little had I seen of the Lord. For most of those five days the priest and the Master had been locked in His cabin, discussing what I knew not. Yet, from the look on His face when He did appear on deck, I saw ill-winds were building. The Lord had the look of a man on the run, as if pursued by demons only He could fully understand. His (act was drawn and haggard, with bags under His eyes from lack of proper rest I knew personally He had touched little food or drink. And I worried over the Lord’s health.
And the priest looked even worse in his ways. He too ate little and drank hardly enough to stay alive and I wondered to myself about what the Lord and this Charolarl Priest talked so intensely. But for days there was nothing I 137 could do while the Lord and the priest stayed cloistered in the Lord’s cabin.
There was for me, however, much to do. I had a ship to command. A ship that had been damaged in combat and needed repairs and I had a crew, a fresh crew barely settled in, to train and hone to a fine edge. For I was sure, on whatever the priest was informing the Master, the crew of the Black Falcon would be severely tested in the days and weeks to come. So I drilled the men in gunnery, in the making of sail rapidly and that of taking in sail. I screamed my fury when things were done wrong, praised those who pleased me and my demands and rewarded with good ale and a copper coin or two those who improved in their assignments. But I was rarely pleased and praised few. Sailing only a few hundred feet above valleys of virgin forests, we paused often to moor above a small clearing to hunt, gather Yabla and Kakla wood and make repairs. And it did not take long to have the Black Falcon back in full readiness for the Lord’s bidding.
It was on the sixth day that The Lord and the priest emerged from His cabin, finally to take in the beauty of the valley floor we hovered above motionlessly on stout mooring ropes. It was in the cool of the early evening, just after the sun had set behind high mountain walls, when it seems all things are serene and at peace with the world, that the Master joined me at the stem railing of the ship. He wore plain leather trousers, high boots and a simple cotton shirt Strapped to His waist was a simple belt and scabbard. But in the scabbard was the blade of Fadah, the Armorer. A blade similar to mine. A blade that no other mortal maker of weapons had equaled in beauty and balance.
For some time He said nothing but stood beside me, peering out over the valley floor of dark green forest, hands behind His back and a look of infinite sadness in His eyes. I too, said nothing, fearing the Lord’s thoughts were infinitely more important and not to be disturbed. Yet, as ill and unsettled as the Lord appeared, glad was I that He finally had come on deck to take in fresh air and view open spaces. And I waited for the Master to break His silence, if He so wished. Or not to, feeling pleased and honored just to have His magnificence standing beside me. What cared I of what lay ahead of us? Was I not a follower of the Sa’yen? Was I not called the Left Hand of the Lord? He had but to command me and His will would have been done. If He so ordered, I would have scaled the long walls of imperial Hakad itself barehanded, and died gladly, in the attempt. I believed then I had found my God. And I was content to be with Him.
Tallsus came up quickly behind us, bent to one knee in deep homage to the Lord and quickly rose. The Lord still frowned upon all those who thus honored Him but He had resigned Himself to accepting the practice. Those on board the Black Falcon were men of the Sa’yen. And we, to a man, felt our God bad to be honored thusly.
I stepped from His side to hear Tallsus’s question. It was of no importance and giving him instruction as to what to do, I also told the ship’s master gunner to bring wine and cheese for the Lord, and also to have the crew rig tarps above the deck so as to keep the evening hawks and other birds, as well as approaching rain, off Our Master. It was my discussion of orders with Tallsus which broke the Master’s reverie. He sighed, smiled sadly and looked at me for the first time in days.
“Madgar, you are a true friend.”
“Aye, Lord. And even a better servant,” I answered freely.
“I do not wish you to be a servant Only a friend.”
I said nothing to this but kept my eyes on His face. There are many things I, a simple Ha’valli warrior, do not understand about the Lord. But the one thing I could least understand was His sadness that sometimes filled His very soul. At times it was, this sadness, all consuming. I have never before seen such weighty concerns burden a man’s shoulders, And here was my God, the Sa’yen, weighted with such heavy burdens, I wished to come to my knees, head bowed, and plead with Him to allow me to relieve some of His grief. But I was, and still am, just a simple warrior. I stood before Him, concerned and worried, but silent. I knew in time He would tell me what He wished me to know and that was enough for me.
“Magdar, old friend. Tell me, do you believe in the many legends of the Ancient Kings?”
“Believe, Lord?” I muttered, confused. “What is there not to believe? The tales of die Ancient Kings are told over and over again around campfires, over supper table, everywhere in our lives. They were once mighty and wondrous. Rulers of Hungar! I do not know what You mean when You ask such a question.”
The Lord nodded, sadness again In His eyes, and He sighed heavily. For a moment or two He gazed back behind us, watching the ship’s crew expertly rig up the overhead tarp, bringing tables up from the galley laden with food and finally, folding canvas chairs for Him and others to sit on in the evening twilight. He watched for a while and then returned His gaze to me.
“Magdar, have I ever said I was the Sa’yen?” he asked in a soft, quiet voice.
“No, Lord,” I answered firmly. “But it is not expected of You.”
“And you still think me a god?”
“Aye. The only true one! The Sa’yen!”
“And nothing will ever change your mind?”
I paused, and looked into His eyes deeply. Was this a test of my convictions? Did the Lord somehow know of the doubts which had assailed me? And finally, did I truly believe Him to be the Sa’yen? For some time I held back, not trusting myself and my answer. And then from deep within me came a sudden swell of emotion as to be undeniable in its power. I believed! Woe to those who doubted me. I believed! I was of the Sa’yen!
“Lord, you are the Sa’yen, and nothing, nothing on the face of Hungar will ever shake my faith!”
It was if I had stabbed Him in the heart. He closed His eyes in real pain, trying to hold back the tears. One slid slowly down His right cheek. But he opened His eyes again and looked at me.
“I am no god, Magdar! I am no god! I am mortal, just as you. I will die just as you. And because I am not what you think I am, I cannot live with the idea others are willing to die for me because they believe me to be their god!”
“But Lord, it is said by all our prophets even the true Sa'yen will not know His divinty.”
“But your prophets could be wrong, Magdar. They could have mistaken something far in the past as godlike but not actually that of a god. Listen, I know I speak to you in riddles at times, but believe what I tell you. Do not doubt what I tell you. I am not the Sa’yen! I am just a mortal creature, fallen from another star in a fiery chariot once described by an ancient prophet long in the dim past who saw a similar happening.
“But old friend, listen to my words carefully. I am here not by accident. I came of my own free will on a mission of much importance!”
“Aye, Lord. You came to lead your followers on the Wha’ta. The Sacred Pilgrimage.”
“No!” The Lord let loose a scream of anguish and pain which startled and frightened those who were close enough to hear, a scream of such real pain I shall never forget “Do you not see? Cannot you understand what I say? Gods are not real, Magdar! If they exist and I have my doubts any exist at all, they would not come to their following in the guise of a simple warrior. Or a mere mortal. They would come in all their power and glory and show one and all what they truly were.”
I shook my head and frowned at such talk. The Lord’s ramblings were far too deep for me to comprehend. Yet I could see the pain in the Master’s face, and the looks of fear and worry in the faces of the ship’s crew who kept a respectable distance around us. Frowning, I ordered them all to leave the deck to the Lord and myself and turned my eyes back onto the Master. I then took a great liberty upon myself by taking hold of the Master’s arm gently. I had to say something to relieve the pain that was in my Lord’s breast
“My Lord…” I began. But He kept His face turned from me and would not listen. Glancing to see if the crew was indeed far enough away, I stepped closer to the Lord and looked at His strong profile again and spoke in a lowered, quieter voice, “Alexander, listen to me!”
Had not the Master, months ago high in the Tors Mountains, first called Himself but just a mortal by the name of Alexander Synn? Aye, it was then when I knew this man was my god. When He said His divine name to me, a name only used by one god to another in the High Halls of Heaven, I knew then the Sa’yen was again with us on Hungar.
And the Lord looked at me sharply, hope in His eyes, a light I had ignited by using His godkin’s name and I had to speak in such a way as to help Him remove some of His sadness.
“Alexander, even if You are not the True One, the Sa’yen, yet men believe you are. Men believe! All on this ship, millions on this planet have all been praying that the Sa’yen would come and lead them on the Wha’ta. I…I have at times wondered to myself that perhaps You are not the Lord. But even if you are not, do You not see what You bring to those who wish for the Sa’yen? You bring hope, My Lord, hope! Hope that through you, the evil which grows in this world will be exorcised. Hope that all men will grow as brothers to one ami another. Hope that life, so cruel and merciless to many of us, will again be like that of the long cherished memories of our ancestors. A time when life was good and peace, every* where, prevailed!”
“But what of the Wha’ta, Magdar? Why a sacred Pilgrimage to the south?”
“My Lord, prophets have come and gone through the ages. But all of our prophets have claimed one thing. In the south is the last stronghold of the Ancient Kings. And it is there the Sa’yen will take all of us in order to bring back the glory of the Ancient Kings and to have the Ancient Kings rule again all of Hungar!”
Suddenly He grabbed me with a grip which I thought would crush my very shoulders. And there was a look of anger, of madness in His eyes I had never before seen. I was unprepared for what he was to say next.
“What if I told you I have stood before those you call Ancient Kings, Magdar? What if I told you that I, only a mortal, on other worlds you cannot possibly know of, have actually killed creatures you call Ancient Kings? Would that not be blasphemy, Magdar? Would that not, at last, shake your belief in who you think I am? Tell me, Magdar, would it? Would it?”
I was without words! I felt as if I had been smitten with a heavy blow and left for dead. The Sa’yen, a killer of Ancient Kings? It, it was not so! Something deep within me had been badly battered and I felt weak. And He saw the deep shaken feeling in my eyes and He nodded, a smile hidden underneath His blond beard. Pleased, He suddenly let me go. Running, He leaped atop the railing which was above the ship’s maindeck and lifted His arms high above His head. Men turned to look at their Lord. As I did. But I felt dazed and confused. I no longer knew what to think. My head ached fiercely and I felt lost inside. But I turned to listen to the Lord.
“Listen to me!” He shouted in a voice which would carry for miles in its richness and splendor. “I stand before you as one who denies all who claim me as their god. I am not the Sa’yen! I am a fellow mortal, a creature such as you, from a different time and place.
“But I come before you to tell you that soon, soon forces such as you have never before imagined will spring upwards and death and destruction will ravage all whom you love and cherish. I come before you to tell you they you call the Ancient Kings, those whom you have worshipped in your hearts, yet live on this planet. But live not to bring peace and harmony to one and all but destruction and famine.”
I heard people gasp in surprise, growl in disbelief and mutter to themselves. Men came up from below to listen to the Lord and all faces were turned to look upon Him. He stood, feet apart, hands above His head, on the hard wooden railing of the poop deck looking down on the ship’s crew and there was such a look of anger on His face as to be called incredible.
“I am not your god called the Sa’yen. But I am your friend from a far place. Your ally. And I did come to save you. Those whom you call Ancient Kings are our enemies. Those your mothers and fathers prayed would again return to their power and glory would do so only at your destruction. And it is the Pictii, and many within the following who claim to obey the teachings of the Sa’yen’s prophets who lead you astray. False followers, agents of the Ancient Kings, are leading you to your destruction. They keep alive the false legends and myths about how the Ancient Kings were once good kings and fair rulers, but you all will soon die from such deception.
“Heed me! I have looked upon the faces of the Ancient Kings. I have fought those called Ancient Kings and I know what they truly are. They are evil! They are vicious! And they are ones who work their ways upon you even as I speak. Their goals are to kill you, your loved ones and all on this planet who call themselves human. They aim to murder all who believe in justice, in peace and in fairness. I know, for I have fought them since my early youth. I know what they are. And they are of the darkest forms of evil.”
The ship was alive with men whispering heatedly in groups, wondering at the Lord’s words. For some seconds die Sa'yen watched the men, lowering His arms slowly. And I? I could but stand behind Him motionless. I knew not what to think. But someone below on the maindeck pushed his way through the crowd and jumped atop the lower rigging of the mainmast I recognized the lad as a younger member of the mainmast’s rigging crew. A good lad with sword or musket And even better with the handling of sail.
“Lord, I do not understand. Why would the Ancient Kings, and the Pictii, wish to destroy us? What can we do to gods? We are but human!”
“Aye, you are but human.” The Lord began again, His voice strong and powerful and driven by something inside Him I cannot describe. But He held us all in rapture. It was something wonderful and exciting to stand on deck that night and listen to Him speak. “Just as human as I! Things I know about the Ancient Kings but cannot yet speak of are too hideous to describe. But what I tell you now you must believe. The Ancient Kings are not human. They do not breathe as we do! They do not live as we do. They do not die as we do.
“They are from a far past so old that even I cannot tell you how old they are. But I tell you this. Those who have told you they are, and were, benevolent, that once they ruled this world with a hand of kindness and love have all lied to you. And if you do not rise up and face your foe with a stout heart and firm hand they whom you call Ancient Kings will surely strike you down and crush you mercilessly.”
The crew went into an uproar, arguing with each other; many stood to one side in silent thought, while others stood motionless and too numb to speak. For long, agonizing minutes, as I stepped closer to the Lord in anticipation, I wondered to myself what the crew as a whole would do. The Lord, in His infinite wisdom, had tried His best to shake the very* core of a Hungar’s beliefs. He had shaken mine severely with his words. And yet, I knew not how I actually felt. As a Ha’valli warrior, the tales of the Ancient Kings had not had for me the deep religious connotations that they had for the citizens of the northern cities. To the Ha’valli, the Sa’yen was the only god. The Sa’yen would lead; the Ha’valli would follow. For years such simple beliefs had been enough for me.
As my eyes went from one face to the next in the crowd below, my hand was on the hilt of my sword. I had called the Lord by his godkin’s name. I had even confessed to Him my earlier doubts. And as confused as I felt about the Master’s words, one thing I was positive of. If mutiny swept through the crew of the Black Falcon and danger loomed before my Lord, I would bare cold steel and fight to preserve His life. Even if it meant paying with mine.
But to my ears came a chant which began to swell through the ranks and rise in volume, a chant which brought tears both to my eyes and to the Lord’s! It began with just one voice, that of old dour-face Fidor, with others adding to it with each passing second. Some reluctantly, some excitedly, and yet the excitement and thrill swept through the ranks of the crew with astonishing speed. In moments the entire ship’s crew, as if one, were shouting at the tops of their lungs. And it was a simple chant, truly a simple, yet powerful chant.
