Chapter 25: Dancing in the Dark

The sound of booming horns hadn’t faded yet as the war machines setup along the frontline shot their first volley of missiles. The Manthakin army used every kind of war machine known on Calmyra. Ballistae, catapults and trebuchets in every form and size, hurled their arrows and javelins, jars and pots filled with burning or explosive mixtures, or simply large rocks at the defenders of Vernya.

Roban watched several burning jars made of clay thrown in his direction, but they overflew his position in a in a high arch. His gaze returned to the enemy’s frontline before he heard the jars impact and explode somewhere behind at the Ghallan Clan’s position.

“Elgenfire, but they aren’t aiming at us,” Roban heard a worrier remark.

“I guess they are afraid they’d hit their precious chariots,” another Targhas replied.

The phalanxes protecting the war machines had opened corridors and large numbers of chariots chased through these corridors out in the open. Each chariot was drawn by three large boars with impressive tusks. The cart was manned by the charioteer and two archers. Two-foot long sickle-blades were mounted on the axis of its wheels.

The Targhas fanned out building a shield wall surrounding their Chieftain. Roban took one of his heavy javelins and threw it at one of the chasing chariots. His throw hit the charioteer in the chest and mortally wounded he fell off the wagon. The driverless chariot crossed the path of another and they collided, resulting in bloody meat from boar and man staked on wooden splinters.

“An impressive aim, but you don’t have enough javelins to take them all out like that,” Jenaya commented.

“That one was just for fun,” Roban replied grinning brightly. “Move a few steps away from me, and don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” he continued, still smiling.

Roban closed his eyes, spread out his arms and threw back his head facing the sky.

Hassika cursed and yelled at the amazons to run for cover as a three-yard long spear flew by and hit the ground only a few yards away. Watching their frontline, she saw explosions and fires erupting amongst the Norgar formations. Swearing some more, she turned looking for Athea, to shout some more. She found her standing motionless and staring at the south. Hassika ran and grabbed her at the shoulders to shake her awake.

“We have to search for cover, we aren’t safe here, Athea,” she screamed at her.

“Safe?” Athea asked absently, still staring south.

“Wake up! We need...” Hassika shouted, but happy giggling accompanied by the sounds of clapping hands - small hands - interrupted her outburst.

She spun around glaring at Menja. The little girl was moving around, jumping and twisting, a happy smile on her face.

“What in the name of all befuddled tavern rats are you doing; are you dancing?” Hassika asked flabbergasted.

Menja happily giggled and skipped in front of Hassika.

“Yes, can’t you hear him? Atady, I mean daddy, he is singing! At first, I also couldn’t hear him, but Ghania taught me how to listen. You have to close your eyes and think of daddy, but really hard, and then you can hear him singing. It’s a strange song and I don’t understand the words, but it’s beautiful. Ghania told me it’s a very, very old song. Older than this world, and even older than the stars, and that’s why I don’t know the words,” she told her smiling brightly.

Menja grabbed her hands swinging in rhythm of a melody Hassika could not hear. She wanted to dance, but Hassika just stared at her and didn’t move, so Menja skipping returned to Bosko, who appreciatively wagged his tail in rhythm to her dancing.

Incomprehension written all over her face, Hassika looked all around her. Now she noticed that the bombardment had stopped and everywhere she looked the people were staring at the south. She closed her eyes, palmed her face, and slowly turned southwards as well.

“Shit”

That was the only word coming to her mind as she opened her eyes and peeked through her fingers.

Jenaya watched Roban as he spread his arms and looked at the sky. ‘I’ll be right back’, he had said, but it didn’t look like he wanted to leave. Despite his bright smile as he made his announcement, Jenaya felt the cold touch of a sinister foreboding and moved a few steps farther away from him.

Worried, she looked around and saw the attacking chariots closing in on them. She wasn’t concerned about the arrows they shot. The Targhas’ shield wall was tight and their armor too heavy to penetrate, but she feared they would charge and overrun their position. The boars drawing the chariots were monstrous and the spinning blades at the wheels of the carts looked murderous. As far as Jenaya was concerned, standing there, with wide-open arms, was the absolute wrong gesture at the moment.

She cursed and wanted to scream at him as her gaze returned to Roban, but what she felt as she looked at him silenced her immediately. Although he still stood there like before, every sense she possessed told her that her sire was gone. She ran to him. Well, she tried to, but Jenaya couldn’t reach him. She ran, but when she stopped running, she found herself still standing a few yards away from him, but now behind him. He was gone, truly gone, and the space he occupied didn’t belong to this world anymore.

Jenaya looked through a window into another world and then she heard a sound. Not a real sound, it was more like the memory of a sound, but a memory that wasn’t hers. The sound was unreal; unreal in its genuine meaning; not a part of her reality but its opposite. She listened, trying to understand and already knew that she never would. She heard a sound that was no sound, and then she saw a flicker that was no light, a tiny flame of darkness on his shoulder. The tiny flame grew and became a fire. It was a fire that didn’t burn its source. The dancing flames were caressing their sire. Jenaya watched in horrified fascination as a tiny flame became a blazing fire.

She saw shadows jumping out of the flames. Unrecognizable at first, but as they madly danced around the fire, the shadows clarified. There was the huge shadow of a dog, another one that of a lion, a wolf, and many more, but all predators. The last shadow becoming clear was the shadow of a man. He danced through the Targhas shield wall and all the other shadows followed him. He danced through the chariots surrounding them, and they exploded. The shadow of the man never stopped dancing, but the shadows of the predators rushed all over the battlefield, not dancing, but charging the Manthakin frontline.

Bashing, hacking and maiming, the raging shadows wreaked havoc upon the enemy. Phalanxes were torn apart, war machines shattered, and huge war beasts lacerated in the blink of an eye. Explosions, screams, terror and destruction ripped through the enemy formations. Their machines were destroyed, thousands of soldiers slaughtered and no one cared.

As the tiny flame grew into a burning inferno the battle, the war, everything had lost its meaning. Jenaya looked around. Everyone just watched as mile high darting flames shot aloft and a thick, liquid smoke flooded the sky. They were right, she conceded, there was no reason to fight any more in a world that would cease to exist. Jenaya sat down and watched the black flames reaching for a darkening sky.

When Roban slowly opened his eyes, he was alone, and surrounded by darkness. The world was gone. For a while, he just moved around, trying to remember. He stopped walking the moment he thought he heard something. He drew his weapons and listening to the darkness, he waited. He had to wait for a long time, but finally he heard it again - a melody. An age-old tune, older than Calmyra, but standing surrounded by darkness he finally remembered. He remembered the melody, it was a song and he knew its words. A bit shy and haltingly he began to sing along to the melody. After a while, since no one laughed or complained, he sang louder and even danced. As he sang and danced through the darkness, he felt the flame deep inside of him growing, so he sang louder, and danced faster. Faster and faster, louder and louder, until the melody was a roaring sound in his head, and the flame became a blazing fire. And still he danced faster.

Maybe too fast, he stumbled and fell.

Laughing loudly he scrambled to his hands and knees, and screamed into the darkness.

“This is not the end!”

The music stopped, but not his laughter.

I’m glad I’m alone and it’s dark, I can’t dance and I’m a bad singer.

No one else answered his thought, so he had to agree to himself. He did that with a grunt and then he closed his eyes.

There was no transition. The raging shadows didn’t retreat. The thick, liquid smoke darkening the sky didn’t slowly dissolve and the conflagration didn’t gradually diminish before the black flames finally expired. No, a door was slammed shut and...

It was a mild spring day, only a few clouds were traveling across a blue sky and the sun was shining brightly. The apocalyptic vision had been just that, a vision, maybe a dream. Blue sky and shining sun testified it never happened. The smoking ruins of war machines and mangled corpses, strewn all over the Manthakin frontline, the stubborn, but silent asserters of a different reality.

Roban lowered his arms and opened his eyes. He was back. Grinning he looked around and took in everything. He saw the sun and the blue sky above, felt a mild breeze on his face and the living soil under his feet. He saw the smashed, burning and smoking ruins of the war machines, the slaughtered bodies of soldiers and animals. He saw the people, allies and enemies. Friends or foes, everyone was staring at him, stunned expressions on their faces. He saw it all and he laughed. Long, loud and boisterous, the sound of his laughter traveled all over the battlefield and when it reached the western mountain chain, the mountains laughed too.

Finally he stopped laughing and looked at the sitting Jenaya. He went to her side, bent down and whispered in her ear before he roughly kissed her.

“What are you waiting for?”

He asked but didn’t wait for an answer and this time he screamed what he had whispered before.

“THIS IS NOT THE END!”

Jenaya watched him drawing his weapons, jumping over the Targhas shield wall and storming towards the Manthakin frontline. She licked her lips and smiled.

“I guess it’s not.”

Still smiling, she jumped to her feet and rushed to follow her sire.

On a hill, two miles southwest of Notabir, Fusan Rhogunata soothingly patted the neck of his upset horse. The scream of his enemy still reverberated through the western mountains, but the weakening echoes had a different tenor. ‘The end ... the end ... the end’, the mountains whispered in his ear, as he watched his enemies storming across the battlefield.

He was a young boy when his grandfather had told him tales of the Great Fusan Maghar, and the alliance of the Ogusi clans he had forged. It became the young boy’s dream. A united Ogusi nation, united under the banner of the Great Fusan Rhogunata. He had devoted his life to this dream. It was a dream, a vision, an exhaustless well fuelling his strength, and the driving force dictating his every decision. It was a dream and a vision, but it wasn’t his destiny.

It was a boy’s dream of glory, and a man’s vision of greatness, born, raised and fed on the endless plains of Ogus. But Ogus’ plains were not endless, and when Rhogunata’s vision crossed the border of his homeland, the exhaustless well of his strength dried up. His dream of greatness and glory became a nightmare of greed, cowardice and deceit. Today, as he saw black flames shooting to the sky, and the sun drowning in liquid darkness, he had a new vision of the future. A vision powerful enough to leave his dreams behind, in the past, where they had always belonged.

Rhogunata rose in the stirrups and lifted his hand to signal for the attack, but paused when he noticed a group of riders hastily approaching. Riders in full steel plate armor on ironclad chargers, the King of Tularkis and his personal guards.

“Rhogunata, this is insanity. We need to retreat!” He heard Malrik shouting before his horse came to a stop.

Rhogunata carefully regarded Malrik before he answered.

“It’s easy to retreat if you’re mounted and not even engaged in a fight, but our allies are facing a different situation. The Manthakin army marched the night through and fifty thousand rested Norgar are now attacking their formations. Watch them, it’s a sight legends are made of. The hounds of war are released, and they want blood. Thirty thousand of my brethren fight for the enemy and will hunt the retreating army. It won’t be a retreat, it will be a flight, until the Manthakin reach the mountains. Then it will become a massacre,” the Ogusi replied dispassionately.

“I don’t care about the Manthakin army. Let them all die! Dharkuntis forced me into this alliance. I don’t owe him loyalty,” Malrik shouted.

“You betrayed our enemies and now you’re betraying us. You are a king without honor, Malrik of Tularkis. This is no day for cowards. Take your men and run home. There you can wait for your day to come, because no matter who wins this war, they’ll come for you and collect the price you owe.”

Rhogunata signaled for the attack and the Ogusi rode into battle. They left King Malrik of Tularkis behind, like a dead vision of the past.

The same as everyone for miles around, Hassika had heard the laughter and the words of Roban’s scream run across the battlefield like rolling thunder. She watched the Norgar awaken as the thundering scream pierced the cobwebs of their dream. It was a dream about the end of the world, and as the Norgar stormed across the battlefield, their war cries were a prayer of gratitude, to a God who had given them a new day to fight, and a battle to celebrate life.