Zenak (2 page)

Chapter 2

Drops of moisture rolled down the dark stones of the great chamber hundreds of feet below the palace. A kanon ran across the chamber floor, the small furry animal did not like the flickering light from the torches that illuminated the chamber. At one end of the chamber was a door that led to a long tunnel ending in a staircase that went up to the altar of the temple. The temple was part of the palace. At the other end of the chamber stood Vokar and Mara with the child, the prince, and before them stood a gray stone altar. Lined in a row before the altar stood 500 priests dressed in plain black silk, hooded robes. Each priest held two baby boys. One thousand mothers of the kingdom were des­tined to cry with anguish on the night of the prince's baptism.

Hundreds of feet above this dimly lit chamber of death, Zenak laughed and played with his young wench. He held a tankard of ale in one hand and his lady for the night in the other arm. He was sure his queen was in bed by now. She was tired when she left, but Zenak longed for her arms and only toyed with this girl for lack of anything better to do.

“Put the prince on the altar,” Vokar directed Mara. “My child's baptism will finally be completed,” said Mara as she placed her child on the cold stone altar.

The child began to cry. He knew, as anything of inno­cence knows, that the chamber reeked in foul play. Death hung throughout the chamber making the torches fight for their lives in this windless hole. The baby knew.

“How did you obtain the children?” Mara asked Vokar.

“I hired many thieves to take the children today while their foolish parents played. By now anguished mothers are wringing their hands in dismay,” answered Vokar.

“Oh, little do they know that their children die for the gods,” Mara remarked as she looked toward the heavens. Vokar smiled slyly.

“Let us begin the ending of the ceremony that the barbarian stopped,” Vokar said referring to Zenak.

The priests placed the babies, babies destined never to see childhood or manhood, on the damp, cold, stone floor.

The babies cried out. They were never again to feel warm beds or their mothers' warm bosoms. The priests threw their heads back and began a slow monotonous chant. They swayed back and forth, chanting in unison. Vokar danced around the prince, his black robe flowing over the child. The fervor of the chant built to a chilling pitch and the priests were in such a frenzy that they foamed at the mouth, their eyes wide open in a crazed stare. Mara, standing next to the altar, felt her chest heaving to the chants and she also threw her head back and began chant­ing. Then the chants stopped and the priests threw them­selves to their knees. They began screaming and pulling at their hair. Mara had also thrown herself to her knees. She was screaming and ripping at her long, silk gown. The gown fell from her and her body lay exposed. She scratched at her skin and tore at her bosom. Vokar stopped danc­ing and stood quietly behind the altar. His deep black eyes stared at the priests. Many of the priests had torn out handfuls of their hair and some writhed on the floor in front of the crying babies. Mara, her eyes wild, also had lain down on the cold floor; her hips were leaping up and down. Vokar stood motionless; his thin lips had a whisper of a smile upon them.

“The hearts,” Vokar screamed from his motionless position. “The gods need the hearts to give the prince strength.”

The priests immediately became silent. The ones on the floor rose to their knees; their eyes were still wild. Mara rose to her knees; her chin rested on her chest and she breathed heavily. She was tired. The priests then pulled short, jeweled daggers from beneath their robes.

“The hearts,” repeated Vokar. At that instant 500 babies died. The blood ran freely on the floor as their tiny innocent hearts, still beating, were torn from their bodies.

“The hearts,” cried out Vokar. His voice boomed and echoed off the walls of the dank, despicable chamber.

The daggers leaped again and found their innocent targets.

The blood fell from the daggers and the priests wallowed in the blood.

The chamber was now quiet except for the lone cry of the prince. Mara rose to her feet and put her gown back on. Her body bled from the scratches of her own nails. The priests also arose. The blood dripped from their hands and their robes stank of death.

“The child has been baptized as it should be,” said Vokar. “Take the bodies and drop them into the abyss.” The abyss was a bottomless pit situated in this underground chamber of death. In the past kings would throw their poli­tical enemies into this hole, but Zenak had banned its use and planned to cover its opening.

The 500 priests each picked up two of the dead babies and threw them in the pit. And after the babies were rid of, the priests filed out of the chamber in a solemn proces­sion.

Above the chamber in the palace, King Zenak rested on the furs in his bedchamber, a pretty young girl lay satis­fied by his side. Zenak, however, was sad; he had wanted his queen by his side at the festivities and in his bed­chamber, but she had been tired.

Back in the grim room hundreds of feet below the palace, Vokar, Mara, and the child lingered.

“This time next week I will be king and you shall be my queen.” Vokar said to a startled Mara.

“You plan to assassinate Zenak?” Mara questioned.

“No,” laughed Vokar, “I have hired Tabilo and his mer­cenary army. Right now 100,000 men are massing outside the borders of Deparne. Zenak will be struck completely unprepared.

Mara smiled. “He thought I loved him, the fool, but his weakness for women will destroy him,” Mara said referring to Zenak.

Vokar, speaking sincerely said, “Mara, I have loved you for years. When your father was king and my religion flourished, I knew that someday you would be mine. Your father would have given you to me because he was easily mesmerized, but this swine, Zenak, took over and I have found my eyes cannot control him as they do everyone else.”

“Oh, Vokar,” pleaded Mara, “take me now because I have always loved you. As a child my body ached for you.”

Vokar's thin lips smiled slightly, “Later, when I have brought Zenak's head to you.”

Mara smiled sardonically and said, “I hate him. I had to act as if I loved him or I would have been made a house slave. I want his head. When do the mercenaries march?”

“In two days,” replied Vokar.

Chapter 3

The hallway leading to Zenak's bedchamber echoed with the clattering of swords and men's feet as they rushed to awaken Zenak. Zenak, however, was awake and lost in thought. The girl from the baptismal party slept cuddled up next to him. Her body, though not small, contrasted sharply with Zenak's dense musculature and his mighty form engulfed her. The door to Zenak's bedchamber was thrown open. Instantly, as swift as the slice of a blade, Zenak was on his feet with his broadsword in his hand. His eyes blazed for battle.

“It is only me,” Tenen said. It was known Zenak could slice a man's head from his body as swift­ly as a viper could strike and Tenen knew this better than anybody.

“Blast you, Tenen,” Zenak yelled. “I could have killed you. Now, what's all this urgency?”

“I must tell you some unsettling news,” answered Tenen. He looked at the now awake and frightened girl lying on the furs. “Get out of here, wench,” Zenak growled at the girl. The girl jumped to her feet and scurried out the door, not even bothering to gather her clothes.

“Now, what is it?” Zenak asked.

“An army is massing at our borders. This man saw them,” Tenen answered as he pulled a small man through the door to face Zenak.

The man fell unto his knees and said, “Oh, My King, I rode my trusty mark to death getting here to tell you the terrible news.” [We have found through studies of other scrolls that a mark was an animal similar to our horse of today except that it was hairy and approximately 1.5 times the size of a modern day horse. Many kinds of marks were bred: some were riding marks, some were work marks, and some were war marks. The war mark was considered an important weapon in bat­tle. It was trained from the time it was a young mark to fight with seven-inch blades connected to its hooves. It was also taught to kill with its teeth, which were filed to razor sharp­ness. When a war mark and a warrior, called a marksman, went into battle, they were as formidable a foe as anyone could ask for.]

“Rise,” ordered Zenak

“My King, on our borders, the western borders, at the base of the Volski I saw at least 100,000 men. It seemed that at least half of them were marksmen. I know this because I was once a marksman,” the man said.

The Volski was the largest mountain in the mountain range of Be-In. In the midst of this range was Soci, the kingdom of sorcerers and wizards.

The man continued, “I was frightened and I knew only you could save us from the savage attack that must be pending.”

“What insignia did this army possess?” Zenak asked.

“None,” replied the man.

“Mercenaries,” declared Tenen.

“How do we know that this man is telling the truth?” Zenak asked.

“We'll find out this morning,” Tenen answered. “This man came to me right after you went to sleep. As soon as he told me these bad tidings, I sent a young boy on a riding mark to confirm his claim.”

“Why wasn't I told of this?” Zenak asked, his anger rising.

“I saw no point in it since we wouldn't know with certainty until this morning. I thought the bad news could wait until morning,” Tenen said.

Zenak looked at Tenen thoughtfully and said, “Thank you for not disturbing my son's baptism.”

Tenen smiled. He and Zenak had been friends for a long time. Just then a young boy of about fourteen came running up the hall to Zenak's chamber.

“Here comes the messenger,” Tenen said with a smile.

“I hope he's trustworthy,” said Zenak. Then Zenak saw the boy, “Your son, eh, Tenen? I'm sure he will tell us the truth.”

The boy rushed in; he was out of breath and had to catch it before he could talk. Zenak waited impatiently for the boy to speak.

“What's the news?” Tenen asked.

“The news of an army massing at the western borders is true. There must be at least 100,000 men at the eastern base of the Volski,” The boy finally said.

Zenak's hand grasped the handle of his broadsword. He realized the effort that was given to muster such an army; his enemy was of no small influence. Zenak turned away from the messenger, walked to the other side of his bedchamber, and fell into deep thought.

After a few minutes he spoke, “Tenen, how many gener­als and their armies are within 50 karns of Balbania?” [A karn was .789th of a mile.]

“Six of our eight armies are camped outside of Bal­bania. The generals would not have missed the baptism,” answered Tenen.

“The other two are at the shores readying the navy I want. Blast, they are the only ones with fully equipped armies,” Zenak said.

“Reports that have been given to us indicate that the other six armies are at half strength. Half of the armies were allowed to go on leave,” Tenen remarked. Zenak already knew this.

“Send riders out to get the six generals that are here and bring them to the meeting hall in one hour. Out­fit three-fourths of Balbania's troops and ready my mark,” Zenak ordered Tenen. Tenen slapped the side of his right thigh signifying that he understood.

[An army consisted of 50,000 men. At full strength Deparne's force had 150,000 marksmen, 200,000 infantrymen, and 50,000 archers. It was an army of no small reckoning. Balbania herself had 10,000 men.]

Zenak sat at the head of a long rectangular table.

Three generals sat on each side of the table and Tenen sat next to Zenak on his right hand side.

“We cannot march for two days,” General Malook said speaking for all the generals.

“Two days!” exclaimed Zenak. He jumped to his feet causing his chair to fly backwards and crash into the wall. His fists were clenched and his eyes were red with fury. The generals reared back in fright.

“It cannot be done any sooner,” declared Malook care­fully. “We need to get our supplies and get our armies to­gether.”

Zenak glared at the generals as he thought what the next question would be.

“How many marksmen do you have on hand?” Zenak asked as he quietly burned.

“Among us we have 40,000 marksmen,” Malook replied. The other generals nodded in agreement.

“Have them prepared to ride in three hours. Then prepare the rest of your troops to march in a day,” Zenak ordered,

“We need two,” insisted Malook.

“If I find out that it took two days to ready an army, I shall personally behead all six of you,” Zenak replied to Malook. Zenak stared at the generals and burned his eyes into theirs.

“The marksmen will be ready to march in three hours and the rest of our troops will march in a day,” Malook said, He and the other generals stood up, slapped their right thighs, and then left.

“Damn generals,” mused Zenak to Tenen. “They're only good for decorations at a party. Is my mark ready?”

“Yes,” answered Tenen, “and so is mine,”

“You will stay behind. Deparne will need a strong hand if I should die,” Zenak told Tenen.

“No, I shall fight next to you,” Tenen argued, “Tenen,” Zenak said as he put his hand on his friend's shoulder, “how I long for the days that we fought side by side and for the nights that we drank dark heavy ale and gave women our best in bed. True warriors we were indeed. But now it's different. I'm a king and I have great responsibilities, and one of those responsibilities is to make sure my kingdom is left in good hands should any tragedy befall me. You must stay for I can trust my kingdom only to you.”

“I will stay,” said Tenen. “But reluctantly.”

Zenak smiled and said, “Old friend, let us inspect my mark. Are Balbania's troops ready?”

“Yes,” answered Tenen.

“Good.”

Zenak and Tenen quickly left the meeting hall and went to the stables to see Zenak's mark, Gam. Gam was a mag­nificent beast. He was said to be the largest war mark in the kingdom. His white hair hung like elfin moss from a tree, and his head was always erect and proud. His razor-sharp teeth glistened in the sun and the seven-inch daggers connected to his feet were as sharp as the cold north wind. Zenak and Tenen strode into the stables and Zenak smiled when he saw his mark.

“Gam, my beautiful mark, it's been too long since we tasted battle, eh?” The mark reared its head approvingly. “She's ready,” Zenak said to Tenen. “We will do battle savagely.

Tenen laughed and said, “When the enemy sees you and Gam charging, they will turn and run.”

“I hope not. I haven't fought in a year. Blast, it would be terrible if they ran,” Zenak said, guffawing.

“Zenak,” Tenen said quietly, “who do you think the mercenaries' employer is?”

Zenak turning away from Gam and looking out a stable window said, “I have no idea. The only country close enough to complain about anything is Soci, and she has not complained. And be­sides, her sorcerers are too busy talking to spirits to put together an army of this size. But I do feel that I know this much—if it is not Soci then it is an enemy from with­in.”

Tenen nodded agreement.

“If it is not Soci,” Zenak continued, “then only one man would have the power and resources to have an army of this size readied.”

“Vokar?” questioned Tenen.

“Who else could it be?” Zenak remarked questioningly. “I believe when I have routed these mercenaries and found out that Soci was not in on it that I shall have Vokar banished. And if I find out that Vokar was the mercenaries' employer, I shall have him beheaded.”

Tenen asked, “Shouldn't we do that now?”

“No,” answered Zenak, “there are still many people in this kingdom who think that Vokar is a great man. If I were to behead him without any just cause, we would have a revolu­tion to deal with.”

“I guess you are right,” said Tenen, “but I feel that Vokar will bring the destruction of us all if we do not stop him now.”

“Yes, I suppose so, my friend,” Zenak said, “when I get back you and I will figure out a good reason to at least banish him from the kingdom. Now I think I shall go see Mara and my son.”

Zenak patted Gam on the nose, then quickly left the stable, and went to Mara's bedchamber. When he walked into her room, she was feeding the prince. She looked up at him for only a moment and then looked back down at the baby.

“Does my son feed well?” asked Zenak.

“Too much,” Mara said curtly.

“Like me,” Zenak reminisced, “when I was a child it was said I could eat a mark. My father used to say…”

Mara cut him off, “I don't care what your father said.”

Zenak stared sadly at her; he was deeply hurt. Mara was his love; when he had taken the kingdom from her father she begged to stay with him. Her love, she claimed, was great­er than all the kingdoms on the Island. It was for that reason that Zenak spared her cruel father's life and had him banished to a far off northern land.

“I march today against an army that bears no insignia,” Zenak said quietly.

“I know.”

“When I come back we shall have a great feast in your honor,” Zenak said trying to cheer up Mara and himself.

“You may not come back,” Mara said as she stared at Zenak with cold, fierce eyes. Then Mara got up and put the child in its cradle. Zenak walked to the cradle and looked at the baby.

“Of course I'll be back. I have a fine son and a lovely wife.”

“You never can tell,” Mara said to herself as she paced back and forth in her bedchamber. Zenak look at her questioningly, but she said nothing. While Zenak dawdled by the baby's cradle, a knock sounded on the door.

“Enter,” Mara ordered. General Malook entered the room.

“My King,” he said as he slapped his right thigh, “the marksmen and Balbania's troops are ready and await your leadership.

“Good work, Malook. Are they outfitted with longbows and arrows?” Zenak asked.

“They are completely outfitted, My King,” Malook answered. “A sword, two daggers, a shield, a shovel, and longbow and arrows.”

“Excellent, that's exactly as it should be. We march within the hour.” Zenak said.

“Very good,” Malook responded and then he left the room.

Zenak walked up to Mara, wrapped his arms around her, and said, “I'll see you soon, my queen.”

“Yes,” said Mara. She pushed Zenak away, walked to the other side of the room, and busied herself.

Zenak started to go after her but stopped short.

He stood for a minute in the room and looked at Mara's back, then at his son, and finally walked out of his wife's bedchamber. As he walked out of the palace, he tried to figure out what was wrong with Mara. He couldn't figure it out.