Break Away

Word count: 4592



         "...and the barbarians, thinking my great-grandfather was supported by nearly a thousand troops, threw down their arms and surrendered. And that is how the lands of the Laubernians were conquered by less than two hundred men," King Ranshall finished his recitation with the flair of a court bard.

         The small crowd of visiting dignitaries applauded, thinking the historical tour of the castle at its end. They began to talk amongst themselves about the nearly one hour presentation by the monarch of Zambril. Ranshall beamed with pride at the reaction to his practiced show. Performed more than a hundred times during his reign of the expansive lands his ancestors had fought so hard to bring to the knee, the show held more significance now than ever before. Having never done a single great deed other than to keep his people at peace, his kin graced many pages in the annals of the world's history and he felt it important to keep everyone reminded of such.

         Ranshall cleared his throat and the dignitaries all turned towards him. His broad and tall frame was dwarfed by the towering oaken doors behind him. Silence washed over the group like a wave ebbing back to sea.

         "My friends, behind these doors is a sight that few before you have seen, but before I allow you the privilege I must first tell you a story so that you can fully grasp the significance."

         He let a moment of stillness linger for dramatic effect. When his guests began to fidget and glance about in discomfort, he began to tell the tale.

         "It begins nearly a thousand years ago when Ricord Bloodaxe Murcotte, the first of the Zambril Murcotte line, landed on the very shores you yourselves debarked onto this week."

*          *          *

         Bloodaxe and his first lieutenant Johan oversaw the beaching of the massive warships. The vessels, silhouetted against the setting sun like a mountain skyline, were a beautiful sight to Bloodaxe. After nearly two years at sea and in exile, they had finally reached their destination.

         "We will call this place Zambril," Bloodaxe announced in a soft voice.

         "Yes, sir. That is fitting," said Johan. Zambril, a word from the near-lost Old Tongue, loosely translated to mean freedom.

         "According to the exploration reports, the land here is harsh and unforgiving. We have almost two thousand hearty men and women remaining, but will it be enough to tame it?"

         "Sir, if I may speak frankly?" Johan asked and continued when he received a nod of encouragement from his superior. "These people followed you through civil war and the longest of odds. When all was stacked against us in the homeland, they stood fast against each and every enemy with tenacity and courage. The hardships they have endured and survived have made them strong and ready to overcome any obstacle. In other words, they are like their leader. We will succeed in what we came here to do. We will build a new home for them and their future generations. A home devoid of the foul magic and politics that even now ferments and will one day spoil the old homeland."

         Bloodaxe smiled and gripped his advisor in a fierce embrace.

         "You are right, of course. We have nothing to fear. All the greatest challenges are behind us. Ahead lays the fruit of our futures. We shall begin to harvest them at first light tomorrow. Let us rest for the upcoming adventure, shall we?"

         The two men walked side by side towards the flickering lights of hundreds of campfires. It was no palace, but it looked grander than even the most magnificent estate back in the old homeland. The reign of Bloodaxe had begun and the new monarch was ready to meet the challenge headlong as he did every battle.

         A gentle breeze wafted in from the forest to their left, bringing all the aromas of the wild with it. The smells of pine, moss, fresh water, and grass all congealed together to form one bouquet that, to Bloodaxe, had the scent of freedom.





         Johan held the glowing box in front of his eyes. The blue light played against the walls of his enclosure like so many lightning bugs. The tent's canvas rippled from the wind coming off the sea adding a kind of music for the dancing shadows. The box, passed down for more than twenty generations in his family, was the lone non-essential item Johan had brought along in their hasty departure from the homeland. He kept it hidden in his footlocker the whole journey at sea. If Bloodaxe found out about this magic device, even the lieutenant could not escape the wrath of the leader.

         Hearing footsteps approaching on the beach sand, Johan hastily returned the device to his footlocker and closed the lid. The tent's flaps opened a moment later bringing in the bright sun of the morning followed by the impressive form of Bloodaxe.

         Johan looked up to the stormy expression of his leader's face. He thought, for just a breath, that he was caught. His mind scolded him about succumbing to the need to view the device. Bloodaxe's first words relieved him of the tension of deceit but gave him a new worry.

         "None of the scout parties have returned," Bloodaxe announced. "Nearly fifty men are now missing."

         "Sir, this is a new land. Perhaps they have lost their bearings," Johan said. The statement sounded hollow to his own ears so he wasn't surprised to see the look of doubt cross Bloodaxe's face.

         "I find it hard to believe that ten parties all got lost. I think we need to mobilize the camp and head inland. Perhaps we can find the solution to the mystery or not. Either way, we will need to keep our force together until we understand the perils of this new world."

         "Yes sir. I will issue the orders at once."



         The settlers came upon the first scene of death within a couple of hours through the forest. The blood and body parts of the soldiers, scattered across a square acre of open clearing, caused many to be nauseated. The soldiers were dismembered, decapitated, and torn apart like dissected bugs. Not a single drop of blood stained their swords.

         "This is mad!" roared Bloodaxe. "These men were some of our most seasoned veterans. Trained by me! Personally! Yet they don't even score a single kill? How many men set upon them, Johan?"

         "We can find no evidence of any attackers except for the corpses of our men, sir."

         "Are you trying to tell me they gave their lives over to ghosts or phantoms?"

         "No, sir. Not at all. There are just no tracks indicating the strength of the ambushers. I would guess that they wiped away all traces so we would be unable to know their numbers," Johan reasoned.

         "Okay. Then they are aware of us. If they went to the trouble of hiding their troop strength, then we must far outnumber them. How is it possible that they could have stayed out of sight of the advance exploration?"

         "The explorers did mention savage tribes in the area, sir. Perhaps they are to blame?"

         "The reports only spoke of men with crude weapons fashioned of wood and stone. This," Bloodaxe swept his arm expansively over the bloody scene. "This is not the work of such primitive tools of war."

         "I agree. However, the explorers were here over twenty years ago. The local tribes may have discovered metallurgy since then. Maybe iron or bronze are their weapons, now."

         "Or magic," whispered Bloodaxe as the corner of his mouth turned up in menace.



         They found the rest of the scouting parties during the day. The scenes were much the same as the first. Visuals of blood and carnage had the army of settlers walking with their eyes scanning every direction, paranoia replacing the confidence they started off with when they landed on the beachhead.

         Johan came to Bloodaxe from the blood bath of the last scouting patrol. His face showed signs of excitement despite the gruesome scene behind him.

         "We have found tracks, sir."

         A dark smile formed on Bloodaxe's face. "How many men did this?"

         "Well. That's just it. The tracks are old. Weeks or more I think," Johan hesitated.

         "What else? Spit it out man."

         "This ambush was not in a complete clearing like the others. The tree canopy was extremely disturbed. I believe the attack was from the air."

         "So you are saying that something swooped down and destroyed them? Do you think it was some sort of spell?"

         "I can't say for sure. I suggest we follow the tracks that are on the ground. At the very least, we can find out what their owners know."

         "So be it. Gather up a hundred men and we will track them."



         They came upon the village in a very short time. As they approached, the primitive residents scurried around in alarm, but none attacked the procession of steel armor and honed weapons. Twenty small dwellings were built in a circle around an oversized fire pit. A cooking pot hung above the dormant ashes and similar thoughts hammered at the brains of Johan and Bloodaxe. They both knew the tales of tribal people that cooked other humans in pots just like that one. Johan kept his arm across his body with his hand grasping the hilt of his short sword. Bloodaxe was at the ready to snatch out the deadly broad axe across his back.

         As they entered the circle, the villagers gathered across the fire pit from them. One man moved forward to greet the foreigners. He was taller than the rest and his body was painted all over with some kind of dye or ink. A large hoop impaled his nose and hung before his mouth like a feed bucket for a horse.

         "I am Karchu. This is the village of the Karchesi and I am the leader here," the man said. His voice was strong and held command, but the words he spoke were out of sync with the way his mouth moved.

         Bloodaxe swept the axe from across his back and waved it in menace before Karchu. The villagers all gasped and retreated a full step, but Karchu remained steady against the threat, his eyes staying locked against the gaze of Bloodaxe.

         "What devilry is this?" Bloodaxe asked. "Your words do not match your lips."

         "Yes. I am using the Talent that the gods have blessed me with so that we may communicate freely."

         "Talent?" Johan asked. "Where we come from, we call it magic and it is the gift of the darkness."

         "Indeed," Karchu commented, nonplussed. "Well, I assure you that I have no evil intent. If you wish to slay me for my gift, you can do so. But I think you have questions that need answers and it may be many months before we could break through the language barrier in the normal way."

         "Very well," Bloodaxe said as he replaced the axe across his back. "We do indeed have questions. I lost fifty men overnight. They had no malice and yet they were torn apart by ambushers in the wood. Who is responsible for this?"

         "Did they carry sharpened metals as you do?"

         "They did. It is our way to be prepared to protect ourselves."

         "Marishka dislikes such weapons. They make her very angry," Karchu responded.

         "Marishka? Who is Marishka? And are you trying to tell me that a solitary person bested fifty of my best soldiers?"

         "Marishka is no person. She is the queen of this land for the last thousand years."

         "She is your queen and yet she is not a person? What nonsense is this?" demanded Johan.

         "She is Marigus," Karchu said. He noticed the look of bafflement on the faces of Bloodaxe and Johan. "It seems there is no word in your language for her kind. Let me try and explain.

         "Marishka is a creature that stands nearly a hundred hands high. She has scales like a lizard and the leathery wings of a giant bat. Her head is like that of a great snake with teeth longer and sharper than the weapon your friend here carries. She smells with her forked tongue and hunts from the air, slashing her prey with razor claws before devouring them. The most frightening aspect of all, though, is her power with the Talent."

         "So you are saying that this fantasy creature murdered my men? That she hunted them but did not eat them?" asked Bloodaxe with a dubious look on his face.

         "She did not hunt your men for food. She did it because they carry the metals of violence. You may think I am telling you legend or myth, but we have all seen the creature and she does not kill us. She told us centuries ago that she would leave us to our own devices as long as we never sharpened metals that could be used for war."

         Bloodaxe stared at the man with a stunned look on his face. "You are saying this thing can speak as well?"

         "Oh yes. Marishka is a very intelligent creature and with her Talent and she can discern the patterns of all languages."

         "Where can we find this Marishka?"

         "She lives in the smoking mountain to the west, but if you continue to carry those weapons, she will find you. Now I have a couple of questions for you if you would be courteous enough to answer them."

         Bloodaxe gestured with his hand for the village leader to ask his questions.

         "First. Do you plan on killing me and my people? I see you are here in force and we have no hostile intentions toward you."

         "At this moment, no. But if I find that you played me false, we will return and certainly destroy you and your ilk," Bloodaxe stated without emotion. He meant exactly what he said. "What else would you ask?"

         "What are your plans here in our land?" Karchu asked in a nonchalant manner, but the question was vastly important to his people's future.

         Bloodaxe considered the query in silent contemplation. The seconds passed to nearly a minute, the quiet hanging in the air between them like a lead weight.

         "We plan to rule here. You and all of your people will kneel to me and mine before the year is up or there will be war. A war which I highly doubt any of you can afford to fight."

         Karchu simply nodded. Bloodaxe turned and walked away from the village, his retinue marching behind him in military synchronicity.



         The fighting men of the settlers were rallied and set off to the west, Bloodaxe and Johan at their head. A small force was left behind to protect the rest of the settlers, now firmly entrenched within a thick copse of trees that could easily be defended from traditional ground attack and left no room for attack from the air.

         They spotted the mountain on their second day of forced march. It was monumental against the landscape. Its peak, hidden by clouds, sent a plume of smoke spiraling above the stratosphere. Red, steaming, melted rock slowly flowed down its side like molasses. The column stopped to view in awe the natural wonder.

         "Beware. Enemy sighted. In the air, it flies to us." the perimeter scouts bellowed as they galloped back to the main force.

         "To the trees men. Find cover." Johan called the orders as he fled the path they were on to hide himself in the forest.

         Marishka glided just above the treetops, her spectacular wings spreading gale force winds through the forest like a hurricane. The soldiers grabbed the trunks of trees and rocks to anchor themselves. The wind carried a laughing voice with it that sent terror into the hearts of all.

         "You bring war to me? You come to me with your steel? I will show you true weapons when you arrive."

         Marishka turned and flapped her wings, sending forest debris and broken trees hurtling through the woods. She flew off to the mountain, her long tail sweeping and tearing the tops of the conifers.

         Two men, impaled by large branches, were dead. Many others sustained serious injuries and were unable to continue the march. Johan left a small contingent to care for them and the rest moved forward towards their fate with Marishka.

         Entering the mountain was easier than any could have expected. A gaping cave led to an intricate tunnel system that appeared to Johan as manmade. It seems that humans once served this creature directly, he mused to himself.

         They traversed the tunnels, always opting for a way upwards when met with choices. It proved to be an effective method when they suddenly emerged into a well lit cavern that was so massive it seemed to Johan that all their warships could have fit inside it tenfold. The light emanated from the steaming magma that bubbled from a pool in the center. On the far side of the cave, Marishka waited for them. A reptilian smile was on her confident face as she watched the troops marshal for the attack.

         "Oh my," she spoke with amusement. "Don't you even want to play a little first? You just plan on charging little ole me with those big scary weapons? Whatever should I do? Perhaps, I should first turn off the cooling spell I so graciously made for your comfort."

         The heat of the cavern suddenly became intolerable. The men, in their metal armor, began to bake. They all clamored to remove the heavy steel before it cooked them. Naked and burning up, the once formidable force seemed insignificant to Johan now. Marishka laughed and her bellows filled the cavern like a giant bell in a small belfry.

         "Magic," Bloodaxe sneered. "Why did you murder my men? They did nothing to you!" he called out to the beast.

         "They brought steel weapons to my land. They planned to kill my followers. I was given no choice. Why do you seek to dominate the land which is mine?"

         "We have been exiled from our lands and only looked to settle somewhere in peace," Bloodaxe responded. "You disdain steel weaponry yet you use the powers of the darkness for your own destructive purposes."

         "My Talent is not used to harm. I only removed the spell that was keeping you from being harmed. And you talk of living in peace? Peace? You call swords, axes, lances, and pikes tools of peace?"

         "Sometimes peace has a cost and must be paid in blood. You surely know of such things. You have lived for a thousand years from what we have been told, surely you have seen how this works."

         "Bloodshed brings more bloodshed. When someone is killed, another wants revenge and the cycle goes on whether it is a love triangle, family feud, or nations at war. Once life has been spilled on the battleground, it cannot be returned. Now do your worst. I no longer wish to speak to you savages. I will exterminate you all and leave none to return to bring news to others who will seek vengeance."

         The mighty serpent leaped across the magma pool and swept her talons against the naked soldiers. Twenty men died instantly from the attack, some cut cleanly in half. Others lay on the ground with grievous injuries. Bloodaxe roared a defiant challenge and charged Marishka with his axe poised to strike. Hundreds of men followed him screaming their battle rage.

         Marishka met the charge with a flapping of wings causing a wind that sent most of the men flying back, Johan among them. Bloodaxe and a few soldiers fought through the wind and the war leader brought his great axe down on the foot of the beast. Marishka roared in pain and whipped her barbed tail around to send Bloodaxe and some of the attackers careening over the magma pool and crashing against a far wall. Others were not so lucky landing in the pool and their screams of intense pain and the smell of their melting flesh sent chills into Johan who was just getting back to his feet.

         Blood spurted like a fountain from the clawed foot of Marishka. She limped towards Bloodaxe with murder burning bright in her snake eyes. Long tendrils of drool hung from her shiny teeth.

         Johan ran to his clothes and pulled the glowing box from the pocket of his cape. He read the words engraved on it in a singsong chant. Marishka, sensing the magic gathering within the device, stopped her advance on the unconscious form of Bloodaxe and began to stagger towards Johan. She spoke a melody of words in a language that Johan had never heard and he faltered slightly in his own incantation. The wound in Marishka's foot sealed shut as her spell took effect and she launched herself off the floor high above Johan's head. A screech of rage and victory filled the air as she descended towards him.

         He finished the chant and threw the box at her just as her acute claws raked his skin. It exploded in a brilliant blue blaze and the serpent's screams rattled the stone walls of the cavern. The remaining blue aura enveloped Marishka who thrashed about in its embrace but was unable to escape the magic. The serpent began to slowly lose its solidity. The blue light seemed to absorb her until only a glowing mist remained. The mist dispersed through an opening against the wall in which she sat against when they entered.

         Johan ran to Bloodaxe, who was just waking from his daze. He looked at Johan as the lieutenant reached him.

         "Are you ok, sir?" he asked with great concern.

         "What did you do, Johan? What was that?" Bloodaxe asked.

         "It was an old magic device my family guarded for years. It is called a rebirthing box. It takes the soul of a sentient being and removes it from our world and back into the world before birth," Johan explained.

         "Let me see it," commanded Bloodaxe.

         Johan produced the box and handed it to his leader. Bloodaxe took the magical object and looked at it for a moment. He set it on the ground, raised his axe, and smashed the offending article to pieces.

         Johan was stunned. His family's heirloom was no more. He turned his wide-eyed gaze back to his leader who looked at him with tears in his eyes.

         "Oh, Johan. Magic. We tried so hard to stop it and you took it with us. All the people we killed and killed us so that we could end its use and you took it with us. The end does not justify the means. How can we create a world without evil if we condone evil for our own uses? We must not let the others know what you have done. I need you too much to sentence you to death."

         Bloodaxe raised his axe again and roared out to the gathering of men. "Johan is a hero! He turned the monster's magic back upon itself and destroyed it. We have overcome once again."

         Cheers, mixed with the clamor of swords rattling against shields, showed the ruse as a success.

         They stood up and went to the opening in the cavern where the blue light receded moments earlier. Inside rested an egg twice the size of a man. Red, blue, green, and orange speckles overlay the yellow tinge of the shell.

         "So this is what she wanted so much to protect," Bloodaxe said. "We are lucky to have vanquished her before she could bring an offspring to bear."

         "Take this back with us so we can always be reminded of the cost of freedom," he commanded to no one in particular. Several of his men bided him and carried it away from the mountain as they returned to the other settlers to begin the job of making their new home.

*          *          *

         "And that was how the nation of Zambril began to be. A land without magic that, with a twist of irony, only became so with a powerful magic device," Ranshall concluded.

         "So what became of the egg?" asked one of the gathered dignitaries.

         A broad smile crossed Ranshall's face as the dignitary gave him the expected opening. "I am so glad you asked."

         He thrust open the large doors and walked inside, beckoning the crowd to follow him.

         The room was vast beyond measure. Vaulted ceilings towered overhead, nearly beyond sight. Stone pillars with intricate carvings filled the room, each one bigger than the girth of five normal men. Wafts of smoke flowed up from countless braziers, lending an aroma of lilac and lavender throughout the chamber. Stained glass windows, taller than most homes in Zambril, filtered the bright sun's rays washing everything in brilliant hues. The centerpiece of the room, however, is what drew everyone's attention.

         The egg was astoundingly mammoth in size. At least two hundred feet tall and a perfect oval, the multicolored nucleus pulsed a bright light from within, creating a show rivaling the best fireworks displays of Zambril.

         "Throughout the centuries, we have learned much of the creature that dominated this land for so long. The natives, although seemingly ignorant of intelligence on many levels, were well versed in knowledge of their oppressor," Ranshall explained.

         "By the light of the gods, it is magnificent and terrifying both," exclaimed one of the crowd.

         "Yes, indeed," commented Ranshall. "Let me tell you about what has been learned.

         "The egg you now see has grown exponentially over the centuries. The creature, apparently, grows to its fullness within the embryo, emerging as a fully functional being. Over millennia, there has been a regular cycle of one thousand years of the creature's presence and then another thousand without while it grows inside its egg. The youngling can only exist when the adult has died."

         Ranshall paused for breath and then continued. "While the creatures can be harmed and even permanently maimed by steel, they can only truly be destroyed by magic."

         A crack like that of a thunderclap boomed out within the room. Everyone jumped back at the sound.The noise echoed through the room and the people remained silent until the last remnant faded. When they looked again to the egg, a fissure ran its entire height.

         "Unfortunately, we have no magic. The last remaining bit we had was destroyed when Bloodaxe smashed that box."

         The orb rumbled and shook threatening to topple over.

         "We now know that the egg is not dormant as Bloodaxe and his force believed. Since it has been a thousand years, we believe the time has come for the emergence of another potent creature. Having just come to this understanding, we have set all our scholars to learning a way to deal with a new serpent. Their efforts, however, have been without fruit. Having no powerful magic, we are defenseless against another one."

         A giant scaled talon broke through the fissure and the shadow of wings fluttered within.

         "So, I have asked you all here so that you will be ready for this threat and to ask a simple question."

         The group all turned their eyes to Ranshall, stark horror etched into their visages. One member forced himself from his shocked reverie to address the monarch.

         "What question is that?"

         Ranshall directed a half-hearted smile at the man and replied, "Does anyone know a good wizard?"