Formula: chapters one and two

Prologue:

I looked up into his heartbroken eyes, my vision fading into a mesh of blended colors.

He loved me. I knew it for certain. This man I barely knew. His love for me came from a place I did not understand.

But I didn’t have to understand. All I had to do was believe.

And that was why dying didn’t matter.

I’d spent my entire life searching for something that wasn’t even here. In order to have what I always wanted, I had to pass through the thing I’d always feared.

My hands and feet went numb from cold. My mind erupted with the pain of my insides leaking out my open belly. I closed my eyes and tried to slip away in silence.

But then a thought struck me. I admit it was selfish, but it frightened me to the bone. I forced myself to stay put, threw my hand onto his shoulder, and locked eyes with him. I choked on my own saliva as I muscled out the words, “Don’t let them bring me back!”

And in the next moment, eternity began.

Chapter I:
Too Courageous

They thought it was the end.

They’d talked about it before. They’d made their peace with it, for they couldn’t stop it from coming. Like an oncoming wave, it was inevitable. It would smash down upon them with a sudden, devastating force. No show of strength or will on earth seemed able to halt its advance.

For a while, they had done well. The stout armies of Neshcatia held back the feeble barbarians of Eshbar at every turn. To this day, they’d lost no ground, and even gained some in eager vengeance.

But never once did they give into the fragile elusion of security. All along they’d known. The moment they became more than a mere thorn in Telmar’s side, he would meet them with the tip of the spear. It would all be over in the blink of an eye. No nation survived long after catching his full attention.

From the very start, they had a plan. When they saw the end coming, King Hestus would go to fight his last battle. Queen Arlea would stay behind. Once the castle was overrun, she would swallow the Petal of Perpetual Peace, for she would not suffer to find herself alive in Telmar’s clutches.

But that was all decided when the end still seemed a distant, shadowy thing, and the ever-emptying hourglass corroded Arlea’s resolve, so when the eve of that fateful day arrived, she’d had enough.

“Why must you go to battle tomorrow?” Arlea whispered into Hestus’ ear, as they sat together on their curtained bed, staring into the face of the future.

Hestus ran his fingers through his wife’s shoulder-length ochre hair. “Darling,” he whispered, in the sensual voice he used only when speaking to her, “I’m afraid you know the answer to that question.”

“I thought I did,” she said, “but the more I think about it…” She gently removed his hand from her petite mid-riff. “The more I’m not so sure I do.”

She rose to her feet and turned toward him. The unsteady firelight of the lone candle in the room illuminated only the left side of her face. She seemed half dark and resigned, and half in violent turmoil.

“Hestus, you have continually thrown yourself at the mercy of this terrible war, and every time I kiss you goodbye my heart burns for you, but I accept it because I trust that you will be by my side again soon.

“But how can I let you go when I know all that awaits you on that battlefield tomorrow is certain death?”

“Darling, death is only certain if I decide not to fight, for if I submit to death, he will kindly take me, and though my body may go on living, my spirit will have lost its light.”

“I think sometimes you forget who you are.”

Hestus’ jaw dropped open.

“Who I am?”

“Hestus, you are a king. A king! If you die, it isn’t just I who will feel that loss; an entire nation will mourn.”

“Neshcatia is strong. If I die, the people will not lose heart.”

Hestus arose. With his stocky frame, Arlea’s stately body loomed over him. He looked up into her shining blue eyes. They did not seem as lustrous as they once were, with the rest of her face twisted into such a tortured arrangement.

Her glorious beauty had been shaken by the scent of loss. It was not he who’d forgotten his identity.

“They have not pledged allegiance to their king,” Hestus said, caressing Arlea’s statuesque cheek with his thick-fingered hand. “They’ve given their loyalty to you, their queen.

“What am I to them, anyway? Just a nameless peasant from Harbyrdol who happened to catch the queen’s fancy. It’s you they’ve known since you were little. It’s you they watched blossom into a woman, a princess, and finally a queen.”

“But Hestus, the people love you.”

Hestus gave a soft laugh. “They don’t even know me. I’ve barely had time to be their king proper. The only thing they have to admire about me is that I choose not to let others do the fighting for me while I stand and watch.”

“They love you because they love me, and they know I love you.”

“Listen, I haven’t forgotten who I am. It is because I remember who I am that I choose to fight. Yes, I am a king, but first and foremost I am a man, and a man must fight for what he loves.”

“Ha!” snapped Arlea, taking a long step back. A flash of anger and frustration glinted through the sadness in her eyes. She turned her head away from him and went straight to the arched stone window nearby. She threw open the thick, crimson drapes with an elegant motion, drenching the room in the eerie orange glow of sunset. Still facing the window, Arlea watched Hestus out the corner of her eye. “Come,” she demanded.

Hestus cautiously approached his wife and stood beside her. He tried to meet her eyes, but her gaze remained fixed upon the view outside the window.

From where they stood, high atop the castle’s northeast tower, a vast expanse of the Neshcatian countryside was laid out before them. “Do you see that forest?” asked Arlea, gesturing far to their left, toward a cluster of myrtle trees surrounding a small lake. The gentle light of the setting sun danced upon its surface like a silent lullaby. “What is it called?” When Hestus shrugged his shoulders, she continued, “It is Elmenai. Satu, our first king, was killed by wolves while hunting in that forest. He is buried there to this day, beside his wife Neshca, my great, great, great, great, great grandmother.”

“Sweetheart…” said Hestus.

“…And there,” she continued, pointing toward the tightly compacted patch of peasant’s shops and businesses spread across the long hillside that sloped downward from the castle. “Do you see that building?”

“Which one?”

“Near the center of town, with the triangular, blue-tiled roof.”

“You mean that tiny one?”

“Yes. Do you know what it is?”

Hestus shook his head.

“It is the Hermeso Family Bakery. It has been there for four generations now. Arno Hermeso was running it up until last year when he fell ill and his sons Hano and Remal took it over. It hasn’t been quite the same since then, but they still make the best Lumanah Rolls in the country.”

“Darling…”

“How about that mountain?” she pointed to their right, where in the distance was a large group of high brown mountains. “Third peak from the left. Greyish tip.”

“Ah,” said Hestus, “I know this one. That’s Narunia.”

Arlea looked at him with her understated eyebrows lowered.

“Back in Harbyrdol we could see it too,” he explained, “‘Course we looked at it from a different angle. Viewed next to the mountains around it, it looked like a bird with long, feathery wings. We called it Mariel-pun, which means “angel duck”.

Arlea stared blankly.

“Okay, so I cheated a bit on that one.” he admitted.

For a split-second, Arlea flashed a shadow of a smile. It was a smile that wanted to come, but couldn’t. At least she hadn’t completely thrown away her sense of humor.

She sighed, and looked out the window again. But then, with a sudden ferocity, she rounded on him. “How dare you claim to love this country!” she yelled.

Hestus recoiled several steps, with wide-open eyes. He looked his beloved wife up and down. With her baby blue eyes and thin nightgown of the usual ocean blue, she had always been like the sky and the sea, but today the sky was dark and full of deafening thunder, and the sea was treacherous and unforgiving.

“How can you possibly love Neshcatia?” said Arlea, “You are a stranger here, my love. You said it yourself, a nameless peasant from Harbyrdol who happened to catch the queen’s fancy. You’ve barely known Neshcatia long enough to learn the names of her towns. I, however, have personally walked their streets. I’ve come to know them down to the tiniest details, like I know my own face in the mirror. I’ve seen people born here and I’ve seen people die here, my own family among them. I love this country. Don’t insult me by telling me you could possibly love this country like I do.” She leaned in very close to Hestus, looking him square in the face. “Do you know what I think you love? The sword! You crave the thrill of battle.”

Hestus turned his gaze to the floor, shaking his head in sadness. Arlea was angry and scared. She didn’t really mean what she was saying. She knew him much better than that.

For a moment he stood there in silence. What could he say in his defense? Arlea was right, in part, but she was missing something very important.

By now Arlea had gone back to the window. Hestus soon followed, standing close, but daring not to touch her. “Do you remember the fields, out there past the mountain?” He said, pointing just to the left of the mountains they had earlier discussed.

Arlea closed her eyes tight, yet tears could soon be seen gracing her cerise cheeks. “Of course I remember the Fields of Eberet,” she whispered, “I don’t think either of us will ever forget that.”

The Almighty had surely blessed the day Hestus first met Arlea. All of history had seen no better day, and none would come after. It was a perfect day. To curse that day would be to curse The Almighty himself.

“Where I almost got myself killed for kissing you,” said Hestus, “Where my heart felt weightless when you kissed me back.” He placed his hand gently on Arlea’s shoulder, and she lightly met it with her own. “Darling, the more I see of Neshcatia the more I begin to fall in love with it, but you are right. It is not my home, and I could never love this country the way that I know you do. I do not know Neshcatia; I know you, and it is you that I love with all my heart.”

Arlea wiped her eyes and sat on her bed. She looked up at Hestus with pleading eyes. “If you love me so much, why do you continue to insist on defying my wishes?”

“Because, my dear Arlea, I know you too well,”

“You know me too well?”

“Darling, this isn’t you. Before today you were happy to let me go out and fight, because you love this country. And I was happy to do it, because to fight for what you love is to fight for you. I swear to you, my dear Arlea, that if you picked a stone off the ground and said you loved it, I would go to the ends of the Earth before I’d let any harm come to that stone. It has always been you that I fight for, never Neshcatia. But now that we stand before the end of all things, you have lost yourself. You have let fear and doubt rob you of who you really are, and you have forgotten where your heart belongs. Therefore, I will fight, because I know that the Arlea who begs me to stay behind is not the real Arlea. The real Arlea loves this country more than any other earthly thing, so I will not stand by and let its fate be decided before my eyes!”

Arlea’s expression went suddenly vacant. She stood up and walked to Hestus’ corner of the room. There was a map of the Knowne Reaches hanging there above a plain brown writing desk. She placed her hand over Neshcatia. “Hestus,” she said, her voice deep and cold, like permafrost, “Whatever you do, Neshcatia’s fate will be the same. By this time tomorrow, it will cease to exist.” She slid her hand downward so that it covered the country to the south, labeled Eshbar. She let her gaze drop to the floor. “It will become part of Eshbar.” She said that last word with clenched teeth, almost hissing it out. She turned to face Hestus. “You and I both know Telmar is finished toying with us. Akee will surely be following the army into battle tomorrow.”

“Akee is just one w…” began Hestus, but stopped himself. “…Just one.” Akee was not a woman. Not hardly. She was a symbol, an omen; the face of everything that was so terribly wrong with the world, everything that kept himself and his wife from being able to just be together, in peace.

“And you are just one man,” said Arlea, “I know you can hold your own in battle, but you cannot sway the tide of an entire war single-handedly. Akee however, can. She is the most powerful sorceress on the planet, and she is untouchable in battle. You’ve heard the stories. Legions have perished before her might alone. No soldier’s ever gotten within fifteen feet of her. It will be less a battle tomorrow than a slaughter.”

At last it became clear what was really going on. Arlea had indeed forgotten who she really was, but that was merely a symptom; loss of hope was the disease.

“Darling, there is always hope,” said Hestus. He took Arlea’s hand in his own and squeezed it gently. “If not for this life, then for the next. And for the sake of the next life, we must not give up hope for this one. All things are possible with The Almighty, but if we say in our hearts ‘He has not the power to save us’, then we risk forfeiting our last, most precious hope, of our own accord.”

“If The Almighty were going to stop Telmar and his tool, that infernal wretch Akee, why did He not do so long ago, before so many nations fell at their hands? How many more good people will die before He hears our cries and has compassion?

“I do not doubt He has the power, but why should He spare us when He did not spare all those others?”

She turned her head away as she began to weep. “I wish we could just…” she began, speaking between her sobs, “Leave this war behind. Go somewhere far away. We wouldn’t need to take anything. We’d have each other, and that’s all we’d need. We could start a new life, raise a family, and put Neshcatia out of our minds forever.”

Hestus beheld his wife in silence. This was a side of her that had never before shown its face. It was difficult to look upon, yet it was completely understandable. She was frightened. Everything in this world she held dear was threatening to come to an end. She was merely trying to salvage what little she could. But she was wrong if she earnestly believed that abandoning her own country would not leave her with a hole in her heart so vast and deep that the pain of living with it would be worse than death.

“Arlea,” said Hestus, sternly, “Tomorrow we could leave here, escape this war with our lives, and leave Neshcatia behind. Countless others will do the same. No one would think any less of us. But you see, my dear, we would be leaving behind so much of ourselves that we would scarcely recognize each other. We would be as two strangers.”

Hestus took his wife into his arms and simply held her. For a long time nothing was said, as she cried and cried upon his shoulder. At length, when she seemed to have shed every tear she had, she spoke softly into his ear. “Sometimes I wish I were less of a woman.”

“Now what would ever make you say a thing like that?” said Hestus.

“Then maybe I could bring myself to settle for a less aggravating man,” she continued, with a feeble laugh, “The man I love is too courageous to spend his time with me. He’d rather spend it fighting for me.”

Hestus smiled. This was her way of telling him that she knew his decision was right. She had accepted it. It had taken every last bit of her strength, but she had accepted it.

But she still didn’t like it.

Chapter II:
The Danger of Nobility

The night passed differently for different people.

For Arlea, the night seemed almost to drag on forever. She haunted herself with the worry and horror of the unknown. Each moment seemed long and painful as she waited and wondered what the dawn would bring.

For Hestus, the night passed swiftly, leaving him dazed and bemused. How had all this time, which before seemed more than he could ever spend, have drained away so suddenly? How could anyone expect him to be ready to confront this fateful day?

When morning arrived, Hestus left Arlea with these heartfelt words: “Whatever happens to me, know this: every day since I first laid eyes upon your radiant smile has been more full of joy than my entire life before.”

Hestus stood atop a tall cliff-side of red-tinted rock. Far to his left, at the end of a long upward slope, he could see the orange-stone gates of Neshcatia’s capital city, Vestan-ool. To his immediate right, Mt. Berghendar rose up at an angle too steep to climb. It towered over the landscape, much higher than the plateau on which he stood. Over its peak there hung a ring of dark grey ash. This menacing figure served as an ominous backdrop for the battle that currently raged upon the barren plains of Esta-ool, between the mountain and the city.

Hestus watched as Neshcatia’s skilled warriors, outnumbered three-to-one, effortlessly prevailed over the ugly brown blotch that was the “army” of Eshbar.

“Well?” came a strong male voice with a subtle flourish.

Hestus turned to his right, where Halden, his brother, stood beside him.

Halden (like nearly everyone) was a good deal taller than Hestus, had better groomed hair, and a much burlier upper body; however, he had the same deep-set brown eyes, thick neck, and wide facial structure. Like the rest of the army, he was clad in royal purple cloth with minimal bronze armor and a helmet. Also, as a high-ranking captain, he topped off the outfit with a glistening red shield and a flowing purple cape, which Hestus omitted from his own uniform.

“Well what?” said Hestus.

Halden let out a hearty laugh. “Ah… you never change, do you?”

“I did once…” muttered Hestus, and glanced toward the castle. Doubtlessly Arlea could do nothing but count the minutes until word of the battle’s outcome reached her.

“Are you going to tell me why, in the name of the Void, we’re standing up here when the battle’s down there?”

“I…” Hestus brought both his hands to his head and nervously ran them through his hair. “I haven’t told you?”

“Relax. It’s not as though I’m complaining. Just don’t think we should let everyone else have all the fun.”

“Fun…” spoke Hestus, through an ironic laugh, “If you consider it fun, the tragic slaughter of a people who have no more reason to fight than we do. Survival. They didn’t choose this either. Telmar did. Telmar alone. If they had their way they’d bring him down just as we aim to do.”

“You really do never change,” said Halden, “Even though I’m your elder, you’ve always spoken to me as you would to a witless whelp. I know they didn’t choose this. But there isn’t any getting around what has to be done. All I’m saying is if you must wipe out a half-mad hoard of mongrels you might as well enjoy it.”

“There is no pleasure in such senseless death. Only sadness.”

Halden groaned. “I’d rather not spend my last moments listening to one of your high-minded outpours of pity.”

Halden would never understand. There is a time for mourning. These men, no matter how uncivilized, deserved not to have others revel in their misfortune.

“So, here’s how I figure it…” began Halden, “We’re here because you don’t want to waste yourself on the army when you’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Waste myself?” Hestus gave Halden an indignant look. “I’d be down there too if I could be, but like you implied, Akee’s arrival is when the real battle starts. I suspect the only reason Telmar has an army any longer is because he can think of nothing crueler to do to his people. She won’t appear until we’ve almost annihilated the rest of the regiment, but when that happens I want to be in the most advantageous position possible. From here, we’ll see her coming well in advance.”

“I knew you’d try to justify it, but wouldn’t it have worked just as well to post a single, unimportant scout on this cliff-side, instead of yourself?”

Hestus turned his head away and mouthed a few swears. Why was it that the simplest of solutions were the ones that eluded him best?

“Never crossed your mind, did it?” said Halden, with a smile, “I’ll say it again. You never change.

“Still, it was darn descent of you to drag me along with you. Now all I’ve got to do to keep from dying is stay out of your way while you rip Akee’s throat out!”

“I couldn’t very well leave you behind. We’re brothers. We’re in this together.”

Halden had gone a long way with Hestus. He looked after him in his adolescence. He followed him when he left home and married the queen of another country. He didn’t even abandon him when he got himself tangled up in this mess of a war.

Now was his chance to follow Hestus to the end.

For many minutes no further words were exchanged between them. But as the ranks of Eshbar’s army grew thinner, and Akee’s arrival seemed inevitable, Halden spoke once more.

“May I offer you a word of caution, brother?”

“Certainly,” answered Hestus. Halden’s experience as a warrior meant his wisdom should be heeded carefully.

“When the fighting starts to get ugly…” started Halden. “Would you put your precious Arlea out of your mind?”

“How could you say that?” exploded Hestus. “She’s the only thing that keeps me going. Arlea’s the very reason I’m in this mess!”

“Exactly!” said Halden. “Arlea is the reason you’re here. Do you know why I’m here? I’m here because if Eshbar cannot be stopped, it’s only a matter of time before it stops me. I’m fighting for my own sake. You, on the other hand, are fighting for something else. Your own survival is secondary. But Hestus, it’s the people who are fighting for themselves today who have the greatest chance of coming away from this. I’m telling you, brother, that damn nobility of yours is going to be very dangerous here.”

“I thought you’d said my nobility was a good thing?”

“Well of course it’s a good thing! Your nobility’s what makes you such a likable guy. How you’ve managed, for so long, to hold onto the idea that this life has any meaning or purpose is… admirable. But war is about life and death, not imaginary things like love that only exist in children’s stories. It’s time to put aside sentiments. The ultimate rule on the battlefield is survival of the fittest. Looking out for number one. Don’t get me wrong, your nobility’s great. After all, it’s what got you here. All I’m saying is you can’t count on it to get you back home alive. You understand?”

Hestus sighed. “Yeah, I understand,” he said.

He didn’t have the heart to tell Halden that he hadn’t for a second considered taking his advice.

“Oh, and one more thing,” added Halden. “Don’t expect me to do anything heroic either. I’ll also be looking out for number one.”

Moments later, a high screech struck the air. Halden tackled Hestus to the ground just before a blinding streak of light passed through the place he had been standing. There was a deafening crash, and the earth shook. Fine cold dust flooded their vision. Once it cleared, they could see an eight foot alcove had formed in the rock wall behind them.

They got up and dusted themselves off.

“Nothing heroic, huh?” said Hestus, with a proud smile.

“Shut up, you fool!” said Halden, “Your plan failed. Akee got the drop on us. We need to get off this damned cliff-side now or we’ll be sitting ducks!”