This novel is still very much a work in progress. I'm about a third of the way through, and if I'm honest, my writing of it only occurs in erratic bursts of inspired enthusiasm. I don't want to say too much, but the premise is that this world is not so far removed from the events of our own history, and it is my desire that people will be able to read this and think about how it might apply to them. First and foremost, I write to entertain, but with this novel I'm trying to strike a deeper chord. You can judge for yourselves how successful I've been.
The last
king died with bloodshot eyes and a rasping breath. His killer took a step back
and left the sword quivering in an unprotected chest stained scarlet with royal
blood. One man died with fear in his eyes; the other lived on with the fire of
victory in his own. Light a candle and mourn the passing of an age.
“The
king is dead!” The call rang out over a clash of bodies and steel, reaching
every man, woman and child as it was taken up in a wave that swept throughout
the city. The morning sun that had brought hope to the king and his army when
it ascended in rosy dawn now seemed a cold and distant witness, passively
observing their downfall.
This
same army was swept aside like cinders and ash in the winds of a hurricane,
crushed as much by the death of their leader as by those that pressed against
them with steel in their hands and murder in their hearts. What is there to
live for when that which is most important to you is stripped away? The
soldiers swayed limply and were cut down. The rebels showed no mercy; mercy was
not something they were required to show. The blood of good men dyed the
streets much as it had dyed the chest of their king, a cruel parody of the
hopeful dawn. It was impossible to distinguish the cries of the dying from
those of the triumphant as they merged together to become a single crashing of
humanity. All over the city, a fatal dance was twisting along the streets and
within the squares that transformed the place from a sleeping giant to
something akin to a writhing ant hill. Weep, for it was not only the soldiers
of the city caught in the slaughter.
א
One
man ascended the wide flight of steps that led up to palace of Horizon Mount,
the home of kings, before turning to survey the sweeping boulevard before him. Sword
in hand and dressed in battered and bloodied armour, this man was the war hero
that his people wanted to see. General Cholem, leader of the army of the
Freedom Uprising. The body of King Kaidezhe lay at the foot of the marble
stairs, half in the shadow. The freedom of the new rising over the tyranny of
the old.
The
rest of the tree-lined boulevard that stretched away in front of the palace had
been cleared of bodies and washed clean with copious amounts of river water. It
had taken several hours, but the task was now complete, and similar clean-up
operations were underway elsewhere in the city, flushing every street, alley
and square free of human detritus. As Cholem drank in the scene before him, he
knew that clearing this area had been worth every drop of sweat. Now the sun
shone down on an open path leading up to a liberated palace: the best of omens
for the day to come. Tomorrow, the Freedom Council would join him here in the
palace, eleven men who would rule alongside him in brotherhood and equality, in
tolerance and fairness. No, they wouldn’t rule, he corrected himself, they
would guide. They would guide this
nation of abused and oppressed people into a new age of peace and prosperity,
living in harmony with one another regardless of personal situation or
circumstance.
But
today belonged to the army, to the men who took up arms and fought for this
utopian vision. Furthermore, he could not afford to wait until tomorrow to
assert the authority of the Freedom Council in this city - the people had to be
made aware of the change immediately. So he would be the figurehead on the
steps of the palace, the herald of new horizons, the voice of freedom. The
dirty work was not yet done, but today, the rebuilding of a nation could begin.
“Permission
to speak, General?”
Cholem
looked down to a man kneeling at the foot of the stone stairway, slightly away
from King Kaidezhe’s ruined body, “Stand up, soldier. I am not a king or a god
for you to bow to.”
The
soldier stood, obeying his general’s every word, “Shall we bring the people
here for your announcement now?”
“Yes.
Tell them that a representative of the new Freedom Council is ready to address
them officially. It is mandatory that they attend. Anyone not here within the
hour shall be assumed to be an enemy of the council. You know what that means.”
General Cholem spoke hard words with a set face, the spark of victory still
dancing in his dark eyes.
“It
shall be done, General.”
“Good.
It’s time to tell these people that they’re free.”
An
hour later, most of the city was assembled on the boulevard before the palace,
a vibrant mass of people thronging to hear the voice of the new regime. General
Cholem faced them triumphantly, a line of armoured soldiers standing to
attention at his back. The afternoon sun remained strong, and cast his athletic
frame in an angelic light, playing off his dark hair as if caressing a loved
child. Nothing was out of place. He was strong and in control. The herald of
triumph.
“People
of Horizon Mount and all of Jeshrual, I am General Cholem of the army of the
Freedom Uprising,” he projected his voice effortlessly over the silent crowd,
“Today is an historic day for our nation. King Kaidezhe has fallen, and the
monarchy has died with him. No more shall you be oppressed by one family,
subject only to them. Today, in victory, we shall begin the restoration of our
nation to its former glory, free and strong in equality. Tomorrow, my allies
from across Jeshrual shall ride into this city. Together, we shall stand united
and address you once more. But today, rejoice! Revel in your newfound freedom!
Until tomorrow, fellow humans, go in peace.”
A
great cheer erupted from several areas in the crowd, building into an ovation
that spread across the mass. General Cholem knew that there were many royalists
among these people, supporters of the dead monarch, but he would leave them for
now. Tomorrow, more hearts and minds would be won to freedom’s cause as he and
his co-councillors emerged before the city once more. Together, they would seal
their victory over this choked land.
Throw
off the cloak of your inhibitions and run riot in the anarchy of your freedom.
א
Lank
hair shrouded a dark face in darker shadow and eyes smouldered in its veil. The
afternoon sun was oppressive and relentless as it beat down on his exposed
back. Every cut a line of red that burned. His breathing was heavy and it
rattled out of his chest in throaty, strangled heaves.
His
voice wheezed out in a cracked whisper, “Where are you, Adonai? Why are you
silent now?”
The
harsh grate of a laugh barked over him and a hot drop of saliva drummed onto
his shoulder blade, searing like a brand on cold flesh. A boot kicked savagely
into his ribs, bruising the bruises, forcing him onto his side with a groan.
The hot dust on the ground around him was no comfort. Shadows fell over him and
a hand yanked his head up by the matted clumps of his hair, grabbing a fistful
of the grimy locks in meaty fingers. A snarling face thrust itself into his
vision.
“Adonai
is dead. In fact, he was never alive.”
The
hand released his hair and his head fell back onto a welcoming carpet of sand
and stone. What was one more bruise when his whole body already wept blood?
“Up,”
a new voice this time, commanding and completely devoid of emotion. He rolled
to face the sun and saw the newcomer: another man, dressed in armour like any
other, but marked as a higher ranking officer by the muddied swathe of the cape
that was clipped onto his shoulder-guards, “I said, up!”
The
man on the floor closed his eyes against the pain and the glare. He didn’t
move. Seconds passed, then a hot breath tickled its way into his ear, “If you
don’t get up, I’ll break every bone in your right arm, starting with your
fingers. You’re wanted alive, but I was never instructed to leave you
intact...” a pause, a mocking laugh, “my lord.”
Lord
Jaish worked himself into a kneeling position, looking away from the soldiers
and fixing his gaze on the ruins of his home. He was a defeated man. With great
difficulty, he pushed himself to his feet.
“I
see that you know what’s good for you. Get into the cart. You’re coming with us
to Horizon Mount on the orders of General Cholem.”
The
name of the capital brought a shot of panic straight through to Lord Jaish’s
heart. It could only mean that Horizon Mount had already fallen to the Freedom
Uprising and their loathsome general. He sealed his eyes once more against an
upwelling of grief within himself as he realised that his uncle, King Kaidezhe,
must surely be dead. His resistance gone, Jaish was limp in the guiding hands
of his conquerors. Around him, his village smouldered in tandem with his house.
Smoke formed a choking burial shroud for the fallen.
“Jaish!”
His wife’s voice came trembling to his ears as he was bundled onto the cart.
“Daddy!”
His young daughter, too!
Jaish
raised a tearful prayer of thanks to Adonai when he saw that his small family
was essentially unharmed, huddled on the unforgiving wooden planks of the cart.
“I
thought you were killed in the fighting!” He exclaimed, clasping them close to
him despite the fire of his wounds.
His wife, Dana, glanced furtively over her
shoulder, back towards their once-grand home, “Some of the soldiers shut us in
the inner rooms, but they didn’t harm us in any way. They’re taking us to
Horizon Mount.”
Jaish
nodded, “They want me there alive. I don’t know what they want to do with us or
what we’ll find when we get there.” He winced as the wheel of the cart hit a
stone and jolted the passengers harshly. Slowly, they began to move away from
what remained of their village.
“May
Adonai’s will be done,” he murmured after a while.
Dana
looked him in the eye, a single tear shining in her own, though her voice was
strong, “It always is.”
The
cart continued along the uneven road, the passengers feeling every bounce ad
jounce of the wheels over the stones. In just a few hours, they would arrive in
Horizon Mount. Beyond that, nothing was certain.
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