The Eventide Child (8 page)

It was probably a blessing that she had grown up as a shepherd instead of a Princess in a palace. She was used to sleeping rough. The lack of luxury in the camp didn’t bother her, and the men seemed to respect her for not demanding any special accommodation. Cass, however, had something else entirely to say about it.

“We’ll be havin’ our own tent, Titus, and that’s final,” Cass barked back, the Legionnaire groaning. No matter how much Titus tried to argue about morale and respect, he couldn’t change Cass’ mind. "Legionnaires don’t have the best reputation around nubile young women," she said. It was better for them to separate her from the crowd, Cass had argued until Titus threw his arms into the air in a defeated groan. Gender. It was the first time she’d really considered the difference her gender afforded her. Had she been a male heir, she would have been expected to share quartering with her men and to suffer alongside them, but because she was a girl she was given a degree of special treatment that set her apart. It annoyed her slightly, but at the same time, she could understand the concern Cass had.

In the end, she would share a tent alone with Cass. “It’s kind of roomy,” She sighed. The tent was devoid of anyone save the two of them. A desk with a map had been placed inside, and Cass was currently leaning over it. Bedrolls had been laid out for them to sleep on.

“Nights get cold,” Cass said. “You’ll wanna keep bundled,” she added, tossing another animal skin to the pile “Get some sleep.” Her emerald eyes fell on Alexandra, making her feel like a child scolded by her mother again. She grumbled as she retreated into the bedroll, hiding beneath the animal skins.

Silence filled the tent for several minutes, their breathing punctuating the silence “Do you ever sleep?” Alexandra finally asked. The sound of the guards changing shift gave her an excuse to speak up. The redhead looked amused, turning to look over her shoulder.

“Not when there’s work to be done,” Cass replied, wearing the same cheeky little grin that she so often wore before turning back to the map.

Alexandra grumbled as she rolled over in the bedroll, tucking herself down, yawning wide. Fortunately, the long ride had exhausted her and it didn’t take long for the young girl to quickly fall asleep.

Hours passed by while she slept, her dreams carrying her back to Arkadia and to the farm. Her haunting dream had left her, replaced now with only nostalgia and dreams of parading through Arkadia with a Legion behind her. In those dreams she was this grandiose heroine that saved the people. Those dreams were always fleeting, dancing just outside of her grasp. Alexandra awoke deep into the night at the sound of a guttural howling, followed by men screaming out in a tongue unfamiliar to her. The panic outside her tent was quite apparent as she quickly shambled up, torches alight all across the camp.

Titus blew powerfully upon his whistle, rousing the troops. “C’mon lads, fall in!” She heard him shout before he blew the whistle once again. Their only saving grace was the palisade that surrounded their camp. True to the heritage of legionnaires, they hunkered down. She hadn’t even the time to panic before she felt a leather glove clasping over her mouth to silence any words she might speak.

“Relax,” the familiar voice whispered into her ear, her eyes fluttering a bit as she tried to steady herself. She felt a tugging, a pulling inside of herself slowly subsiding before the gloved hand carefully withdrew from her mouth. Cass’ figure was a welcome sight.

“Quietly,” Cass instructed in a whisper, her hands quickly pulling her traveling clothes on and fastening her sword. Outside she could hear the battle had already begun, arrows whizzing through the air only to plink harmlessly off the legionnaire’s shields.

The two women created a make shift exit and slipped out the back of the tent and made their way to the paddock where the horses were kept. It had all been part of their security plan. If it looked like the troops might be overrun, Cass and Alexandra were to escape on horseback while the men fought to their last. A noble sentiment.

But a foolish one,
the voice murmured in her mind as she stroked the horse's mane with a soothing hand. She heard the men in the distance screaming again, followed by a blinding flash of light and an impossibly loud bang. For now the battle was of an even pitched, no need to go dashing into the night thus far.

“They’re Hashashin,” Cass said, catching her attention. “They proclaim their faith in their one true God before throwing themselves into battle, seeking death as their prophet had done. They don’t wear armor, they smoke an herb that clouds their mind. They say it brings ‘em closer to their God and provides them with visions and robs them of fear. They believe that dying in battle is the greatest testament to their faith they can give. They’re not the sort ya wanna cross. How do you beat an army that believes they win if they die?” Cass asked as she watched the oddity of the battle unfolding. The Legion didn’t break ranks, but the strangers continued to shout their faith as they charged the line. Most likely the Hashashin had been hired by the Shahzad Empire to put an end to their endeavor.

The line held, but it seemed the others had been a diversion as soon three figures clad entirely in black had managed to scale the palisade, cutting off the path they were meant to escape by. They dropped one after another before her as they rose up, their leader pointing his curved blade forward as he spoke again in that tongue she didn’t comprehend. Cass thrust an arm out, blocking the way between Alexandra and the men. “Run to Titus.”

Alexandra hesitated. Fear clenched at her mind, and that voice in her head whispered for her to do something. Anything. Her heart pounded “Go NOW!” Cass pushed her, sending Alexandra stumbling backward. Just as it had always been, the choice was made for her. She turned and ran, ran as fast as her legs could carry her as the sound of metal against metal filled the air. But she still had her own sword.

You mustn’t run. Watch, child.
The voice compelled her to stop. A sense of dream washed over her body as she slowly turned around. A hand fell to the hilt of her blade as she watched in the distance. Cass moved like an elegant dancer. She fought the three Assassins off, her entire being focused on the deadly dance she was engaged in. She parried, dodged, and struck back. One assassin was quick to misstep in his zeal for his scimitar to find purchase in its target, only to be met with a gut full of steel as Cass thrust her blade through the man’s stomach. She pushed him away quickly to avoid another attack.

Alexandra's sense of dread was steadily replaced with hope and excitement as she watched in awe while Cass fended the remaining two men off.

Those feelings quickly perished as one assassin lifted a hand up, his scimitar resonating with a strange energy as the blade burst into flames. Cass dispatched his crony with relative ease, but she was driven back by the relentless offensive of the lead assassin. Cass was losing her footing, Alexandra could see it. She wanted to help, but something inside her stilled her hand and her body. She didn't even blink as Cass crossed blades with the strange man, only for that strange man to lift his hand up and a bolt to fire shot from his wrist. Cass reeled backward, stumbling before the man brought his scimitar down, the fiery sword cleaving her in twine.

“No!” Alexandra shouted, tears welling in her eyes as the men of the Legion rallied to her position. It seemed as if Titus had seen the situation and ordered the men back. She tried to run, to strike the man dead, but a strong arm wrapped around her, restraining her from advancing as a wall of shields surrounded her. It seemed the attack had ceased. The remaining assassin cast a series of small explosions from his flaming sword and the area filled with smoke. She trembled as she collapsed to the ground, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her mentor. Her friend. In the stroke of an instant, she was gone. Alexandra’s fingers balled into fists as she beat them against the ground until everything seemed to stop, as if time had suspended around her.

The world took on a haze, a figure clad in ornate black garb with long flowing white hair stood beside her, arms held regally behind her back. “Remember this feeling, child,” the voice spoke. The voice which had long haunted her mind was now given form. “Clutch it within your hand like the ember of a fire, hold it tight until it burns you up inside. Then you may have a chance to weather the oncoming storm.”

Alexandra choked back her tears, baffled and mystified by the sudden change in the world. Everything around her seemed as if it moved in slow motion. Her attention turned toward the mysterious woman. “They can’t...”

“...See me? No. I would think not,” the voice replied.

“What?
Who?
Are you?” she finally asked as the stream of tears subsided. The woman stared into the distance, veil covering her face. The form didn’t show the faintest hint of emotion. It was unmoving even as it observed the smitten ruin of Cass’ body. In that moment, she hated that woman. She hated the voice inside her head, the voice that had long warned her of danger yet never gave her means to act.

“What I am is unimportant, for you will learn in time,” the voice said. Her head turned for the first time, the translucent veil revealing an astonishingly beautiful form with skin as pale as the moon. Alexandra had never seen anyone who sounded so incredibly old look so astoundingly young.

“As for who I am...” There was a pause in the voice’s words, as if she debated whether it best to inform Alexandra. “...I am your mother,” she finally said. "These men were sent by the Shah,” she continued, not stopping to explain her previous statement at all. “Ironic, as the Shahzad Empire are the ones who killed their leader, but they are not picky customers. This means the Shah is aware of our presence and we must be prepared for what may come. You will have to be strong. These are your people, and you are their leader. Regardless of what artifacts you gather, everything we have worked to accomplish will wither away if you do not put your mind to the task.”

It felt strange to be scolded by her "mother" in such a way. There were so many questions she had to ask, so many things she wanted to know but she decided against it.

“Mankind turned away from the Gods because they believed the Gods no longer spoke to them and Magic departed from the world. Prophets rose up, claiming to speak to one true God, and men flocked around them. Faith is what sustains Gods. Faith is what gives them power. Robbed of Faith, the Gods retreated. When their new God proved less reliable against the Shahzad onslaught, the Empire began to turn back to the Old Ways. A deal was made.” The voice explained as her arms finally came out from behind her, a hand stretched out to give Alexandra the smallest of pats to the head. “Rest, for the journey shall be long and perilous.”

“But....” Before she could finish her sentence, sleep overcame her. In the next instant, day had risen and Titus stood vigil at the entrance of her tent. It all seemed like a dream to her.

She didn’t say a word.

The men had attempted to speak to her, to comfort her in some way, but she did not respond to their attempts. Titus must have thought it wise to back away from the subject, and per her instructions, had ordered the men not to disturb her.

It felt like an eternity of silence before she stepped into the blistering sunlight. Wood had been gathered, stacked neatly atop one another. She didn’t let the men touch the body, however. No. She would handle that grim task on her own. Alexandra had done nothing for Cass in life, but perhaps there was something she could do for her in death. The face of the man that killed her was etched into her memory. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—forget that face. The wicked smile he bore as he pointed the scimitar at her, the words he uttered. She remembered all of it even as she carried her mentor’s lifeless body to the alter of her final resting place. It shifted from the weight, a gust of wind causing Alexandra’s cape to flutter behind her as she moved carefully. She removed the gloves from her hands, Cass' signet ring followed next. The men stood in perfect formation before the pyre as she lay with coins upon her face.

“Rest,” she whispered quietly before leaning down to plant the gentlest of kisses to her protector’s cold forehead. “Know peace at last, friend,” she murmured again as she drew back. She removed the woman’s necklace slowly before withdrawing. She lifted her hand and a legionnaire stepped forward with a torch, which she gladly took. She ran the fire along the length of the pyre until it was lit, the kindling quickly spreading the blaze until Cass’ body became entirely engulfed in the flames.

“Crucify them.” Her voice turned cold, a moment of baffled silence followed her command. “The survivors. The dead. All of them!” she barked, much to the surprise of the legionnaire’s gathered around her.

“We’ve got to get movi-” Titus began.

“I said. Crucify them. If you cannot follow orders, I will have you dismissed.” She gave the command once more. It was more akin to a child having a fit, truthfully, but in that moment she felt good. She felt strong. Titus snapped to just as his years of training in the legion had taught him to do, a hand flying up in salute.

The screams of the survivors filled the air with anguish as they were hastily crucified on the remains of the palisades. It was a grueling process that took hours out of their day. The pyre burned out shortly before the men had finished their grim business.

“All accounted for, as you instructed,” Titus announced.

Her eyes were fixed upon the burned out pyre. “Thank you, Titus,” she murmured in reply before she slowly rose. “We’ll depart, then.”

“I know she meant a lot to you,” Titus said.

Alexandra stopped dead in her tracks. There was a moment of silence as she tilted her gaze up, “We all knew the risk,” she replied, spinning on her heel and marching off. She threw herself atop the horse without assistance, fingers going to her mouth as she let loose a whistle and waved her hand about in the air. The Legionnaires slowly fell into ranks and they began their long march onward.

Alexandra had not forgotten what her mother taught her. She would hold on to the rage, the desperation, the sadness. These feelings followed her every step of the journey and they reminded her of every bitter loss she had suffered. She knew that for every iota of suffering she was made to endure, her people languished under such sadness a thousand times over. Tyrants had occupied her land. Fools and mystics had undermined the authority of the Empire. They had all lost something. She could see it in the faces of the men that followed her so gladly into the jaws of hell.

The desert grew even harsher the farther they traveled. On the third day after the attack, her horse keeled over from exhaustion. It didn’t bother her. She was numb. Numb to everything as she ordered the men to butcher the horse and provision its remains as food. Now her feet ached, but she was numb to that as well. She occasionally caught sight of Titus shooting concerned glances her way, but it only made her push on harder. She was not weak. Never again would she be weak. She could not afford to allow herself the luxury of weakness, it had cost her too dearly as it was. The final camp was within sight and she threw her hand into the air, Titus coming to a stop.

“There, the final campsite,” she said, pointing to the palisades in the distance and to the smiling and waving Samar. It seemed he had kept vigil over the camp, waiting to greet them before they would head to their ultimate destination. “Have the men secure the perimeter, Titus. I want us ready to leave by morning.”

“At your command.” Titus grunted in reply, and her hand fell down. Titus blew into his whistle and began to bark out commands as the columns dispersed and set about their evening tasks to secure the perimeter. Every step Alexandra took toward Samar, she could see the expression on his face changing. Excitement. Confusion. Sadness. Anger...Nothing. The two stood before each other now, a grim knowledge shared by their mutual loss.

“She is dead?” Samar asked.

She didn’t need to speak. Her eyes betrayed the truth before the confirmation could even leave her lips. She finally nodded and his face gave a twinge of pain and remorse when his worst fear was confirmed.

“She was truly the finest among us.” He lamented, only to promptly embrace her. She hadn’t expected it, but for the first time since her death, Alexandra broke down in their shared grief. She allowed tears to spill from her eyes, wiping them against Samar’s rough tunic as he shielded her from view of the men. They needn’t see their leader cry, after all. He hushed her, a soothing hand stroking her back until she finally hiccupped down the sadness.

“She said they were Hashashin,” she spoke finally, sitting beside Samar as the man nodded.

“It would seem the Shah sent cowardly assassins to stab at you in the night. The Shah has been after you ever since Cass took you to the temple. His powerful Magi have been tracking you ever since the ritual the Priests performed. But they did not know that the night has long been our friend, it seems,” Samar replied as he took a long drink from a gourd. Raising it high into the air, he tilted it upside down and allowed some of the liquid to pour onto the cracked soil beneath them.

“What do you mean ‘our friend’?” she asked, a brow quirked.

“My clan worships the God of Night,” Samar explained with a cheeky grin. His eyebrows rose before he let out a hearty laugh. “Come. We must not dwell on sadness, instead, let us celebrate the life of our dear friend.”

She wished she could handle it was well as he had. It seemed far more convenient, but then she could remember the voice of her mother prompting her to clutch onto the sadness she felt. It was something that none could ever take from her. “Unfortunately, cousin, my people do not handle death in such a way,” she replied, politely of course.

His smile turned into a frown but shifted to a smile again. “It is fine.” He announced much to her surprise, downing the last of the contents of the gourd. “Samar has celebrated enough for two,” he added with a nod, followed by a loud belch as he tossed the empty gourd aside. There was little merriment among the men who alternated between watches. Ever since the attack, patrols had been doubled up. Titus was determined not to allow another breech.

“Is it always going to be so difficult?” she asked as she collapsed upon the rug and pillows that Samar had provided. The delay in their journey seemed to afford Samar extra time in preparing this camp, and as such, luxury was abundant. Even as she spoke, Samar was puffing on a hookah, smoke billowing high into the crisp night air. Without Cass around, she felt safer staying near Samar.

“Yes,” Samar replied. “There is a saying ... heavy is the head that wears the crown.” He nodded, grinning at Alexandra. “But think of how much harder it would be to walk away, now that you know what is at stake.”

She pondered his words as her eyes closed and she lay there. More people would die before this journey of hers was over, and she would remember them all. Tomorrow would mark the final leg of their journey before they would have to confront this alleged cursed tomb. There were always tales of such things, and she often wondered how exaggerated it might be. Granted, she had thought the same about magic in general until fairly recently, and it seemed that her entire perception of the world had been thrown off.

Just as she started to doze, however, the lumbering form of Titus came crashing down beside Samar. “Princess asleep?” He asked in a gruff voice.

“Not anymore, Titus,” she hissed in response. How he thought anyone could sleep with his armor clamoring around and his inability to whisper was beyond her. A single eye opened, fixated upon the commander of her forces. “Report,” she said flatly, too tired to muster more words to which he nodded.

“Men are in high spirits, all things considered. We’re as ready for whatever is in that tomb as we’re ever gonna be, though it’d been a lot easier with Cass.” His voice suddenly stopped, Samar and Alexandra both staring at Titus as he cleared his throat. Even an oaf like Titus seemed to know when he had blundered. His head shaking, he said, “Look, I miss ‘er as much as you lot.” He finally pushed back as he set his helmet aside. “Gods it shouldn’t have been her.” Once again, Titus caught himself as Samar delivered a swift kick to his shin. Titus only grunted as his eyes fell upon her small form.

She was just about to speak when she found herself silenced, her mouth closing. She could see in their eyes what both men thought when they exchanged worried glances before turning their gazes back to her. Ah. Therein lay the heart of it all. It really should not have been her. The men were, after all, sent after Alexandra. Cass was just a casualty swept up in the mix of things. She shouldn’t have died. It should have been her upon that pyre. She bit her tongue, however, teeth gritting as she reclined and closed her eyes once again.

There was a jovial atmosphere about the camp that night. She could hear them outside the tent she shared with Samar, the men drinking, laughing, and generally making merry. It contrasted so heavily with the somber cloud that hung over their heads. She finally opened her eyes, her gaze falling on Titus. “Join the men, Titus. Celebrate,” she said with a small sigh, a hand coming up to rub her forehead. They could all die tomorrow, and yet that did not seem to damper their spirits in the slightest. To Alexandra, celebration and merriment were the furthest things from her mind. Cass died. It was a loss she hadn’t quite come to terms with yet, and it was a scenario that she played over and over in her mind. If she had only been stronger, as she had been on the mountain, maybe things would have been different.

Titus looked at her with concern, her one eye still open and focused upon his grizzled form. “They’ll think it odd if you don’t,” she said again, the man giving a nod in reply. He was their superior, and she was his. They didn’t expect her to grace them with their presence, but it was assumed that Titus would spend the evening drinking and singing with his fellow brothers in arms before they delved so carelessly into the cursed tomb.

“It’s not your fault,” he said abruptly, stirring her from her thoughts as he stood by the tent entrance. “Cass, I mean. It’s wasn’t your fault, Princess.” Before she could respond, he disappeared to rejoin his men. He was to celebrate with them for morale, true, but his task was also to keep them orderly.

“Why do they celebrate, cousin?” she finally asked, rising up. “Don’t they realize they could all die tomorrow following this stupid quest?” She turned to Samar, a mixture of sadness and anger boiling up in her words.

Samar inhaled the tobacco smoke before letting it billow into the air above him. “Cousin, cousin ... it is expected. To them it is no stupid quest,” Samar explained as he shifted his weight, his attention focused entirely on her as a warm smile crossed his lips. “It is hope they fight for. Hope for a better life. Hope for a return to the way things were. They are prepared to die, to sacrifice their lives for that hope,” he said before slipping the hookah mouthpiece back between his lips, inhaling and exhaling once more. “Right now... You, your quest... That is the hope they have chosen.”

Inspiring words, but words none the less. She didn’t know what she had even hoped for him to say. She fussed with her hair, tugging at it gently. In truth she desperately longed for the past, for the days when she was a simple shepherdess. “I suppose...” was all she muttered before she rolled over. Changing the world. Saving the world. These weren’t ever things she had considered doing. Where was her say in this? Where was her choice? The Gods held their silence, just as they always had. Some would claim that her blood was a blessing, but as far as she could see, it was just another curse.