Chapter 13

The Last Retreat on the outskirts of Katerra was as much a town of its own as the temple district of Katerra. The splendid beauty and wealth set the Marble Cemetery apart from the rest of the city, whereas the Last Retreat was a different sort of graveyard. Most houses were mere ruins which even the rats had vacated a long time ago. The few refugees hiding here and there simply acted as the spooks in this ghost town.

Kuwasi and a grumbling Evanis followed Jabbit as he walked on roads which had not seen a single traveler for a decade, at the least. They came to a plaza with a desiccated well standing in its center and a lonely dust devil dancing around it. As they crossed the square, a crowd of three men came out of an adjacent alley apparently intending to intercept them.

“Me wants’ta haf’a word with ye,” the man in the lead called out.

“A word with one of us in particular or with us as a group?” Kuwasi curiously asked.

“Ah’ye de boss?” The man asked in return.

Kuwasi winced as he heard the question. “I wouldn’t... , “ he started but didn’t get any further.

“I am the boss,” Evanis interrupted.

The man looked at her from head to toe and cocked his eyebrow. “Ye?” He asked.

“Look, pissant,” Evanis growled. “You and your two meat sacks stand in my way. Move out of it or I’ll walk straight through you!”

“An’ whae’ de’ye think ye’re goin’?” The man questioned.

“That’s a good question, actually,” Evanis remarked and turned to look at Jabbit. “Where are we going, snotnose?”

Jabbit grinned at her. “We are recruiting. You need more men to boss around and I need an army.”

Evanis pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “And why would you need an army?”

“I thought that would be obvious to a mercenary,” Jabbit replied. “To wage a war, of course.”

“Listen, I know some people believe you are some sort of god,” Evanis conceded. “And I admit you are ... strange. The Bhansun abducted Rhaseris and I know you want to rescue her. I understand. I promise after we go back I’ll talk to my mother. We’ll figure out a way to get the Princess back to you...”

“Hey!” The man standing in front of them interrupted Evanis. “Dat’s ‘nuff. Ye peeps drag too damn much attention on’us’ere. We don’ need dat ‘ere.”

“Shut up!” Evanis shouted in response. “I’m not talking to you, dirtbag. You and the two furuncles at your ass, you scoot now, or I’ll shut you up for good!”

One furuncle whistled sharply through his fingers and out of the alleys around the plaza men ran toward them. In short order, they were surrounded by two dozen grimly looking, armed enemies.

Kuwasi groaned. “Eva, lately your big mouth draws more attention than your pretty face.”

Evanis didn’t answer and drew her weapons as the men slowly advanced on them. The frequency of her heartbeat didn’t increase, her breathing was calm and steady, and her stance relaxed - but a storm was brewing beneath her calm exterior; a tsunami, voracious to drown her enemies in a flood wave of mayhem and destruction. Jabbit touched her shoulder and unleashed the storm. Within moments Evanis’ blinding speed cut a bloody swath through her enemies. She was an iron whirlwind leaving mutilated corpses in its wake. Her falcata came down like lightning strikes and the thunder followed as Kuwasi bellowed his war cry.

Jabbit crouched and touched a corpse lying on the ground. While he looked for another corpse, the dead man he had touched arose and rejoined the fight, but now he attacked his former comrades. With the numbers changing to the disadvantage of the attackers, their fighting-spirit rapidly declined and the battle ended soon thereafter. A few fled the battlefield, whereas others surrendered. The last one dropped his weapon as one of his former friends attacked him with a bludgeon made from his own chopped-off arm.

“Do I also look like one of those ... walking corpses?” There was a slight tremble in his voice as Kuwasi whispered the question in Evanis’ ear.

For a moment, she intently looked at him and then she signaled him to turn around in a full circle. Evanis was thoughtfully rubbing her chin when Kuwasi was facing her again.

“You’re as ugly as you were before you died,” she summed up her observation. “I wouldn’t call you a walking corpse, though. You look and move much more like a stranded whale.”

“Thank the gods,” Kuwasi breathed out in relief.

Then they watched as Jabbit took care of the seriously handicapped among the reanimated men.

“I think that’s the wrong arm,” Kuwasi pointed out. “I can go and look out for his original arm. It has to lay around somewhere close.”

Jabbit shrugged. “It would slow him down if I attach an arm to his hip but merely using someone else’s arm doesn’t matter much to him,” he explained.

“Who are you?” One of the natural survivors asked. “An evil wizard and his demons?”

Evanis spun around and glared at the man. “For fuck’s sake! I am no one’s demon; I am the boss!” She shouted.

“I’ve heard of their kind before,” another man stated. “The woman is a Fury and the man is a Necromancer. A Fury is a spirit of revenge and a Necromancer is a dark priest who sold his soul to Khortabass. Khortabass is one of the Yorak’s gods; the God of the Fallen, or so I’ve heard.”

“In Ibanee we call a Fury a Sentshi and they belong to Unganjashi, the Goddess of Revenge,” Kuwasi added to the discussion. “But I’ve never heard of a Necromancer. The Yorak do have some truly evil gods, though. I wouldn’t sell my soul to them for all the gold of Sumry.”

“What’s Sumry?” Someone asked.

“Sumry is the capital of Janusaka, an island in the Shibula Sea. The town is built on a mountain of gold,” Kuwasi reported.

“Has anyone of you ever seen one of the Yorak’s gods?” Jabbit asked.

“Shut up! All of you,” Evanis yelled.

“Aye, Commander,” all ten resurrected answered, simultaneously - even the one lying on the ground while Jabbit closed his cut-open rib cage.

Evanis looked at the sky and groaned before her gaze sought out Jabbit. Her glare was met by his smug little grin.

The var Dosha family had gathered in the captain’s cabin on the Storm’s Bride. Luwani and Agon expectantly awaited Anjatta’s report.

“Well, I met the Nameless Son of the Faceless God,” Anjatta began. “Although he disliked my mentioning of his father, there can be no doubt the man who calls himself Jabbit is the prophesied Nameless Son.”

Agon snorted, expressing his condescending opinion, but Luwani eagerly nodded, prodding her daughter to continue.

“Like you suggested, mother, I pledged my loyalty to him,” Anjatta resumed. “He accepted. I told him about our plan to ... rearrange the Ibanee’s throne succession and asked for his support. You’ll be happy to hear that he wholeheartedly agreed to a necessary change. I should mention one small detail, though. It maybe could cause some disturbance in the future.” Anjatta paused and pointedly looked at her mother.

Luwani’s eyes shrunk to small slits as she returned her daughter’s gaze. “I see - a small detail. I know you Anjatta. You’re entirely too happy about this. So what is this small detail?” She asked.

“Do you recall the role the Ibanee’s navy played with regards to the Yorak’s raid of Katerra?” Anjatta asked.

Luwani frowned. “Yes, of course I remember it. I can’t see any connection to our current problems nor to any kind of future relations.”

“Then I’ll reveal the connection to you,” Anjatta remarked. “You and your late spouse advised the King to support the Yorak’s raid on Katerra. He followed your advice and the Yorak crossed the Ewu on Ibanee’s war galleys. Please correct me if I’m wrong but without the help of the Ibanee they would have had to either build their own fleet or build bridges to cross the Ewu.”

“I never knew you had any interest in our military history, little sister,” Agon stated, smiling at Anjatta. “However, your analysis of the situation regarding the Yorak raid is correct.”

“I know very unfortunate things happened during and succeeding the Yorak raid of Katerra,” Luwani acknowledged. “But you need to understand, at the time it was a political decision. The Alorian Empire under the dominion of Callandrea Rossano’Shenta was about to regain and even surpass its former power. Every other nation in its sphere of influence was in danger to become insignificant - even Ibanee, our homeland.”

“I’m not so certain the future Empress of the Alorian Empire will approve of your past reasoning,” Anjatta commented. “She might even harbor vengeful feelings toward everyone who helped to murder her family.”

“Her family?” Luwani asked. “The Yorak extinguished the entire Imperial bloodline during the raid.”

“Not quite; Callandrea’s youngest daughter survived,” Anjatta objected. “You met her already; it’s the little girl who came onboard this ship in the company of the ragman. Her name is Sybelien and it appears she has become a very resourceful young woman. She was talking to the Nameless Son when I left to come back here.”

“If you believe this is somehow funny, I have to tell you that I don’t share your attitude;” Luwani chided.

Anjatta laughed out loudly. “Mother, this wasn’t even the best joke I’ve heard since we came here,” Anjatta noted. “I laugh because there is nothing else I can do. I know you’ll continue on your chosen path which will lead to the destruction of everything you should have tried to protect.”

“That’s enough!” Luwani commanded. “Go to your cabin! Before you go to sleep I want you to think about the attitude you have shown me today. Tomorrow morning we’ll talk about it - and about your future.”

When Anjatta had left the captain’s cabin, Luwani directed her attention toward her son.

“Sometimes we have to do the most deplorable things to protect our home and family,” she sighed. “Of course, I mourned the death of so many people in the wake of the Yorak’s raid on Katerra but it was the price we paid to secure our future. All this death has been for naught if we now allow a daughter of Callandrea to ascend the throne of the Alorian Empire. The girl represents a threat to everything I’ve tried to accomplish for the future of our family and also for the future of Ibanee, our homeland. The danger a true heiress to the Alorian throne represents is very serious but also very convoluted, which means handling it demands utmost subtlety. Do you understand that?”