The Tragedy of Mwatuangi

The following account was discovered in the secret writings of the tyrant-king Mwatuangi:

The red moon Riya covered the black sand of the Alexi Leo desert in a curtain of light. Alike all nights when Riya, the largest of Ombs’ three moons, appeared overhead, the ground often surged with heat akin to a bed of hot coals, but my feet had long grown used to this from years of conditioning. Swells of arid wind carved patterns into the sand, and its sheen reminded me of an ocean of flames. It is said that Ieda’wah’ato shaped us out of this very land; thus I felt a strange and beguiling warmth, as if I were within the womb of the ancient mother herself. It was in this sacred region that my ancestors always sought enlightenment.

I, however, sought it for a different treasure.

I paused and examined a pebble on the ground, remarking on how similar its iridescent and dark gleam was to my eyes. It, however, wasn’t glowing as lucidly as the others surrounding it. These stones, called toahk’yni, were rare, and many conflicting stories surrounded them.

One legend said toahk’yni were a void for negative energy that housed familiar spirits. Over time, these stones would bond with the bearer and begin to shine with an ethereal flame kindled deep inside of them. These spirits would then become your guardian and protect you from harm in exchange for the negative energy they absorbed, which they would then purify over time.

Another myth spoke of toahk’yni as relics filled with parasitic evil that cursed the bearer with unending tragedy. The entities inside weren’t simply spirits, but wicked demons – not all demons are evil to us – some Elders said, that slowly devoured all the good within a person’s soul. Those who believed this religiously avoided them, warning others that the only fate awaiting those who dared succumb to the allure of toahk’yni was an eternity of enslavement to the nefarious spirits, in both life and in Desilusion, the realm where all deceased go.

My father, renowned for his storytelling, believed neither story. He said no true good or evil existed, and that the spirits inside the toahk’yni would only become what we made them through our actions. He in fact believed no spirits existed inside them, and advised against being too superstitious, a trait I unfortunately did not receive. So, what of me, then?

At the most, they were good luck charms; at the very least, perhaps, a sign that the enemy I hunted was nearby.

I placed the toahk’yni inside my sack and then scanned the ground, feeling the coarse earth for signs of travel. On nights like these, horse prints could be traced; frequent gusts of wind caused the sand to cluster over their tracks and form small dunes that glowed red hot. Footprints, however, were harder to trace, especially the ones of those skilled in masking their trail, much like the Veyardan rebels I was following.

This was my third month as captain of a private squadron given to me by my father, King Ahddis Levon, ruler of the dominion of Marquesus; foreigners often called the lands our dynasty comprised Levonia, after our kingdom’s founder, Höskart Levon. I excelled by myself, however, so I always took the lead, scavenging for clues to follow while the others established a small garrison and coordinated a plan of action. I was on reconnaissance this time, and my men would be coming soon.

The Marquisean and Veyardan conflict was almost as old as Levonia itself, spanning centuries since the day the two empires first split when Veyard failed to conquer the Virginicans neighboring us. Their loss ended their empire’s colonial affairs here – although they still were allowed to trade- with the promise of fierce retribution from the swarthy Seastriders if they betrayed our mercy. For Marquesus, it was the beginning of an alliance with Virginicus that promised the stability of the realm. Now, citizens of Veyardan descent were rarely seen here, although they were welcomed openly; others were part of a fringe group devoted to the kingdom’s end. Calling themselves the SOV, or Seditious Order of Veyard, their rise brought discord and anarchy wherever they ventured.

Yet, after years of conquests, they were on their last legs now, hiding here, behind shadowy figures our kingdom couldn’t find. Here, in the very birthplace of all Marquesians, defiling it with their malevolent desires! Hatred of the Veyardan traitors had become a religion in itself, and my people were always true to their religions.

The wind hissed as it whipped the sand and knocked me back a couple steps; I could hear the ground shifting distantly. I nocked an arrow and followed the direction of the sound, glad my eyes were shielded by the cowl wore. Then, I saw the source of the disturbance; a tall sable figure, whose silhouette marked the horizon, carrying a spear-tipped battleaxe. Tshaw, I thought; a race of giants who prided themselves as nomads, masters of the harshest environments in Levonia. While they often traveled through this desert as part of their pilgrimage, few ever did so alone. I saw his blue eyes flicker in the moonlight and knew him immediately. Taineo.

He was the son of the famous Tshaw general Antonicus, and for a time, my sworn ally. We weren’t the closest of friends, but our respect was mutual, the kind that was unspoken and pure. I hadn’t seen him since we last met in Elonton while training under the Priestess Kali, though, so this was a welcome surprise. I remained silent and lowered my bow as he approached. Was he following me, or simply passing through?

“Taineo! What brings you to these parts?” I said, shaking his hand. “Surely you can’t be on pilgrimage?”

Taineo smirked. “No. I lower myself to no god or mortal. I’m just hunting. What of you?”

I glanced back northward. “I’m hunting as well. The SOV are hiding out here somewhere; probably near Mt. Karnin like last time. Bra’eon is coming with reinforcements soon, though I doubt I’ll need them.”

Taineo nodded in agreement, and then cocked his eyebrow. “You mean we, don’t you?”

“I guess I do,” I replied. “Wait, I thought you were hunting for food?”

“I did not say what I was hunting,” Taineo quipped. “Besides,” he said before kneeling to the ground, “these men will have a lot of food to salvage; I haven’t seen any game around here for more than a fortnight.”

Taineo then closed his eyes and scooped up a handful of sand, whispering inaudibly as I watched. He then blew it into the air, and I couldn’t help but gape as the sand fluttered in the shape of a bird, with feathers that burned white-hot. Its chirp pierced the air as it shot through the skies above us, only to land on Taineo’s shoulder after bathing us in its light. He muttered another command to the bird, and it soared ahead, leaving a trail of glowing dust for us to follow. Kali’s magical training must’ve awakened his powers as a Bala’woarib; those shamans could manipulate nature in order to master the harshest environments and were revered throughout all of Levonia.

I’d underestimated how much he’d improved since we last met.

“Ready yourself,” Taineo said, as he began jogging. “It will stun the rebels once it finds them and cover them in its light with a mighty sandstorm,” Taineo said. “They however, will not suspect anything. The magic is only detectable to us, and we are immune to it, so we will conquer them easily.” He then glanced at my bow and scoffed. “Is that your only weapon? I fear for you .”

I rolled my eyes and matched his pace. “Does it look like it?” I asked, as I showed him my arm knives.

“Is that trot the fastest you can run? If so, you’ve lost your touch since Elonton!”

“We’ll see about that!” Taineo replied, quickening his speed.

“That’s better!” I exclaimed. Taineo himself had given me the ebony I made this bow with, and I’d taught him many secrets of craftsmanship. I, likewise, had trained many years to match the stamina Taineo possessed, and I was certain that even now, he remained far above my level. Thus, we expected nothing less than the best out of each other.

I sprinted beside him in tandem, as we cut through gales of sand that glittered like molten ash in Riya’s light. We ran through the ancient desert and climbed its dunes for miles, unfazed by the elements as the glow of Mt. Karnin, the largest volcano known to Levonia, slowly crept into the horizon. Several plumes of light flickered a few hundred meters from its base, along with a faint crimson mist akin to the magic Taineo had conjured. The SOV haven’t suspected a single thing.

We drew closer, and I recognized their emblem on a flag, an earthy olive hue, swaying from a lone post as the wind beat it: twin daggers crossing the bust of the Priestess, the cherished matron of Veyard. The Veyardan emperor had said this rogue emblem was a clear sign that the SOV had abandoned their native roots and become an enemy to all, but I’d slowly begun to doubt this; after our first successful assault on the SOV’s forces, we’d learned that high-ranking sympathizers within Veyard’s very governing structure were assisting them.

We couldn’t prove whether this reflected their empire’s true sentiments; Veyard hotly chastised and punished the traitor, and vowed to prove their allegiance by training me in their storied magic. I however, saw this as merely another display of theatrics- I had no qualms accepting it though, and even enjoyed my time with the Priestess. My father Ahddis felt the gesture was authentic, and ranted on about diplomacy, and how it was the answer to the tensions between our two nations. Yet, as doubt continued to fester in the minds of all Levonians and uprisings surged, the pacifist would accept my belief instead: that the destruction of the SOV was the only sure answer. All of Marquesus agreed with me.

I spotted about five soldiers near a large bonfire, roasting game on a spit, while camels and other steeds grazed the local shrubbery behind their pens. Most of tents were rectangular and made from adobe, with a canopy that matched the colors of their flag. The largest, completely obscured by a curtain awning that encircled it, was guarded by three soldiers. Must be the supply tent. A few SOV soldiers patrolled the edge of their small camp; the dust storm created by Taineo’s magic provided us with excellent cover, drowning out sound with its roar. The others must be out retrieving more supplies.

Taineo paused and unsheathed his gigantic axe. “I’ll handle the guards near the supply tent.”

“You make my job too easy then. Ready?” I asked him.

“I’m not the one firing arrows,” he replied, moving ahead.

“You’re right,” I said, as I drew an arrow from my quiver and meditated.

I breathed slow, deep breaths and felt my heart temper its rhythm. I relished the warm air surrounding me, and the rays of the stars as they highlighted my bronze skin, bathed the robe I wore in a translucent glow. I steeled the anger pulsing deep inside of me and contemplated the lives I would soon take. Then I felt the pull of the ancient magic calling me, and I embraced it.

They say the first Marquiseans derived our powers from guardian spirits that appeared as animals; they taught us many secrets about magic and the true nature of existence, it is said. The greatest of these spirits, and our chief god, Ieda’wah’ato, could take any form It chose. While any Marquisean could commune with these spirits whenever they wished, only the wisest and most talented could gain their powers, even transform into them in exchange for the souls of their enemies, and other minor sacrifices. For many years that knowledge had dwindled; few people spoke Boundtongue anymore, the language used to communicate with them. Yet my father, well-versed in the traditional Marquisean ways, had taught me it to me, so I called upon Ieda’wah’ato, and reveled in its sacred energy as I felt the wind surround me in an unending flow.

I am the snake coiling its limb, I chanted. My eyesight sharpened as I spied a lone soldier meandering at the camp’s edge and aimed my bow.

I am the viper that flicks its tongue and tastes the air for its enemy. I pulled my bowstring as I crept closer and knelt behind a sand dune. I could see their aura saturate the air with a vivid red glow.

I am the cobra that devours its prey. I shot my arrow and the lone soldier crashed into the sand. I darted over to his position and admired my kill; the arrow was planted in the Veyardan’s throat, his tan face contorted and pale, eyes bulging, hands wrapped around the base of the arrow. He had nothing of worth for me to salvage; his weapon, a cheaply forged saber, might as well have been a wooden dirk, so I let the sand swallow the corpse and searched for Taineo, careful to avoid the light.

A faint yelp pierced the cry of the whirring sand and I turned toward its direction to see the earth erupt as Taineo bashed a soldier’s head into it. Good. That’s the last of the soldiers patrolling the outskirts. It was time to wipe out the rest of these weaklings. I felt myself begin to float as Ieda’wah’ato manifested again.

I am the hawk with its piercing glare. I sheathed my bow and withdrew my dagger, as my body soared high above the camp. These men were now smaller than rodents to me, going about their useless lives oblivious to the fate soon to come, and I was a god; my eyes missed nothing that happened.

I am the falcon cutting through the sky. I swiped at the fires set up around their camp and the storm strengthened, extinguishing their light in a roar that shook the entire region. The hapless soldiers ran to their tents, staggering as the wind lashed at them.

I am the vulture carrying death in its beak. I threw my dagger and watched it gouge the roof of one of their tents. The cloth yielded, and I watched the guard below thrash wildly before he perished. All that moved now was the canopy as gusts of wind ripped it apart in a violent dance. I called my knife back, assassinated the others, and landed on the ground with a soft thud. I released Ieda’wah’ato as

I cleaned my blade; there were now plenty of souls for It to claim as payment.

I surveyed the area and spotted Taineo at the supply tent, cleaning his axe as the headless corpse of an SOV guard misted blood for a few seconds. The other guards were equally disfigured, and I couldn’t find a single scratch on Taineo; this was hardly a challenge, I mused, as I approached him. We locked eyes, and he pointed toward our destination.

I couldn’t hear his words, but I could read his lips: “Check behind the tent.”

I nodded, and drew my knife again, tiptoeing toward the rear as walls of sand screamed into the night. I could make out the silhouette of another guard, looming just past the corner, so I edged on, raising my knife slowly. He was incredibly close, within my reach. Perfect. I can easily kill him in one surprise blow. I concentrated, and then spun around the corner, jamming my blade into the guard’s flesh. I hopped back to admire my feat, only to frown in disappointment.

Rope burns and garish bruises covered the elongated neck of the poor soul as his feet dangled in the air. Two knives jutted from the corpse’s chest armor- animal skin of a bovine- and his face was bloated, discolored. It couldn’t be suicide. No one can detect Taineo’s magic. Why? Then, inexplicably, my eyes were drawn away from the cadaver and toward the ground beside it.

A large pile of dull toahk’yni rested nearby, except for one, lying in front of the corpse. This toahk’yni glowed, with a flame darker than Riya. I picked it up, and glanced into the soulless eyes of the Veyardan before me, then understood. You were a sacrifice. But for what? There couldn’t possibly have been any magic they could use against us. The amount of sacrifices needed would be incredibly high, and the sun had long settled on their future; their demise was only a matter of time. I rolled the stone in my palm, enraptured by its constant glow; it must’ve been out of desperation, unless…

I heard footsteps and drew my blades, only to see Taineo, hand-raised, quieting the storm around us until the sky glistened with stars and moonlight again. “Are you all right?” Taineo asked.

I closed my palm and snuck the toahk’yni in my pocket. “Yeah. I was just surprised by our friend here,” I replied, pointing to the corpse.

Taineo paused a moment, examining the dead guard’s body. “Another life wasted by superstition,” he muttered, then faced me. “I found a lot of food, water, and wine in that tent. The meat is salted and will last us many months,” he said.

“Great!” I shouted, pumping my fist. “What else did you find?”

“Weapons, mostly of Veyardan design, and made from a metal only found there. A shipping list shows they are meeting up north to retrieve their goods.”

“Their next stop will be the ruins of Fellpoint then,” I grumbled. Fellpoint, where the rebellion began… and where, I hoped it had ended. We’d razed it to the ground when the wars with the Veyardan rebels first began, and for years it had become a wasteland, a place dormant for centuries, with only rumors being the thing one was certain to find there. Our forces had found them in every area surrounding it, but never there since that time.

“A trading post is located a few leagues away, occupied by–”

“Veyard,” I added. The only place they’d be undetectable. “ They’ve been using this desert to distract us. We’ll need to press onward when our company arrives and capture the bastards.” I felt my stomach growl, and chuckled. “But that can wait; let’s celebrate our hunt!” I exclaimed.

“Indeed! You can tell me about that stone you found.”

My heart skipped; how did he know? Oh, that’s right, he’s a Bala’woarib ; he’s ALWAYS going to know. I took out the glowing toahk’yni and showed it to him as we headed inside the tent.

“How much do you know about the old ways of Marquesus?”