They called him the champion of the Talisi. A lost prince, a man touched by the Gods. They spoke his name in the same context as the Vigons. They regarded him as one would a holy object, placed there to remind all that hope is not lost. Mairek lay in a bed weaved of vine reeds. He felt hopeless, encroached on all sides by a looming dread he could not quite determine its source. There were expectations that had to be met. With hope came the assurance of victory and the Talisi wanted war. They wanted to parade him at the forefront of the Talisi Green army. Dress him in green metal and have him wield half a spear.
Yes, half a spear. His signature trade mark. It was half a spear he'd used upon the Ganidan plain, all those months ago. It was half a spear that he'd used to turn the tide against the Binorians. And here, in his room within the Palace. It is half a spear that lay beside him.
He'd tried to return to Jamou, the village he and Ishar hailed from. But the Talisi would not have it. An entire cohort came for him, his father had stood outside their home, tears of disbelief streaming down his face as he watched his son being dragged away to Central Talisi. To stand before the new King of the Talisi, the late King Gans's son, King Mogich. There, before the King, he was forced to retell the events of the Ganidan Plain. Where forty thousand Talisi men had stood against half a million Binorian Legions. Where Talisi had lost its king. The Red Priests of Meena had gathered around the silver throne of the King, intent on discrediting his every word for his theatrics upon the plain did not come as a result of his connection to their Goddess Meena. No. It was another God's blessing that had been bestowed upon him.
A blessing that ensured he was free of the bubble of time. A blessing that enabled him to foretell the future, experience the present and derive meaning from the past in a way nobody ever has or will. He was against the flow of time, not as Ishar was with his blessing of chaos, no, for him perception graced his every thought and action. And time, ever present, sought a way to purge him free of the realm. But for now it ignored him as did he it.
He rejected the giant chamber that had been offered him. The windows were dangerous, a stray arrow from the Army practicing grounds could find him in his bed as he lay asleep. He rejected servants for one might accidentally trip and wash him with scalding hot water meant for his bath. Every option afforded him came with the tinge of time and its need to be rid of him. He evaded all options before they availed themselves and here, he found himself now. In a single room, narrow with four walls all around. No windows, no servants. The only opening a door and ventilation shaft above the door. Time had no means of ending him where he lay.
A wasp entered the room from the ventilation shaft, it buzzed as it explored its new found abode. Mairek grabbed the half spear laying beside his bed. He lifted and flicked it across the dimly lit room, the only light a lantern that was dwindling in fuel. The half spear spun across the room and collided with the wall before settling on the ground. At its tip sat the impaled wasp. The sharp point had impaled it through its thorax and its threat was no more. Mairek sighed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. What I would give, Ishar, to be back in Jamou with you. You tending sheep and me tending my broken heart, where are you Ishar? I crave chaos, an end to this tide that I swim against.
It started as a cough from a servant in the Palace's coal chamber. A chamber maid tripped and fell with a curse. A Red priest yawned and within seconds Mairek knew what was happening. The movements people indulged in, the things thought to be accidents. The gestures and words and platitudes. They were all weaves upon the tapestry of time. A knock sounded at his door. He got up and answered it. Parting the door enough to confirm the heart beats he'd expected were indeed of the five men before him.
Tall men, taller than he, bulky with swords strapped to their sides. Adorned in leather armor. The best killers in Talisi. Killers hired to kill him. They had objected of course, objected the task of ridding Talisi of the only one of them who could channel a God. But Tari, Princess of Talisi and sister to King Mogich, had offered them a price they could not refuse. She hated him, of course, hated him because he was part of her father's death. Part of the reason she no longer had a father. Sure, it was Ishar who'd led King Gans to a war facing impossible odds. But Ishar wasn't around. Nobody knew where the Kolotian and his lover, Niada, had gone to. So it was up to him to suffer the consequences.
"The King requires your presence." The one at the forefront said with a slight bow. The rest of the men rested their hands on the hilt of their blades. A clear sign that they were agitated, wary even. Mariek smiled.
"You carry swords, isn't it customary for the Green Army to prefer spears save in close combat? An ideal condition such as now?" Mariek asked.
The one who'd spoken to him chuckled. "We're used to the weight of the blade, Champion of the Talisi."
Champion of the Talisi. The title was a bane to him. He wanted to thrash against its constraints, to run away, flee from the duty it demanded of him. It was mid afternoon. The Palace wasn't as packed as it was during the early hours of the day. The King would never demand his presence at night so this was the best time for their ruse. Where would they lead him to? Where would he meet his end?
"Where is the King?" Mairek asked.
"He's at the Conicual Garden, west of the Palace bridge." Their leader answered. Mairek nodded. That would be an ideal place to die. It'll give him a chance to see the river curving through Talisi, to observe the sinking sun and to be kindred once more with all that went on around him. He felt time's gentle nudge, beckoning him into its embrace where his death will spell an end to his torment. An end to the struggle against time, a struggle he was sure he could not win. Why then shouldn't he relent? Throw in the towel and call it quits? What value marked him, that a God would pick him above the rest? No, Nielda had made a mistake. What was even the point of going all the way to the garden? Wouldn't it be fitting for his end to be quick?
"I hear the King," Mairek said. "He is speaking to the Chief Palace servant about a cartload of wine due from Remu. He is in the throne room, not the garden." The men shuffled uneasily. "You're here to kill me." He took a step back, leaving his door ajar. He went to the center of the room, knelt down and bore his neck to them. "Make it quick, a quick thrust in the neck ought to do it. But then again, you guys are the experts."
They hesitated. Each uncertain of their purpose. Mairek hated uncertainty, decisions spell the destiny time offers. To titter on the brink of a decision is to waylay time's purpose. "Be quick about it! Bastards!" That did it. They lunged towards him, swords rasping as they flew free of their scabbards. The point of the swords came to him and Mairek welcomed them, a smile played across his face. It was going to be over. He closed his eyes, waited for the sword tips to bite skin, draw blood. End his life. He waited a span of seconds and nothing seemed to happen. He opened his eyes, observed the blades inches from him, frozen in time.
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"You fucking cunt." Nielda, the God of Space and Time spoke from behind him. He turned, found the God lounging on his reed bed. His skin was as dark as the midnight sky, and stars riddled it. His hair, like puffs of a cloud hovered about his head. His green eyes observed him with a haughty air Mairek had become used to.
"Nielda." He said, turning to regard the God who'd chosen him as his Champion.
"You can kill them all, all five of them as you did the wasp. Yet, here you kneel, like a weakling, welcoming their blades. You paint a sorry sight. Diva”. Nielda said. Diva, the word was misused by the God, having dwelt so long in the place between sky and moon, the God had lost touch with humanity, his vigil against a darkness he was hesitant to comment on had stripped Nielda of knowledge regarding the advancement of the human race.
"I just want it to end, I know no peace, Nielda. No peace at all." Mairek said. He got up off the ground, went to the rear end of the reed bed and placed himself there. Close to the naked feet of the God. The dusk colored robe adorning Nielda shifted as he sat up to regard his champion.
"Peace? When a buck grazes in the Talisi wilderness, no predator in sight. Does he regard the moment afforded it as peaceful? Does it relish in it, hence lowering its guard to fully appreciate the ambiance that comes with a lack of danger? Peace is a fickle thing, the buck knows this. Its ears are ever alert lest the sound of a Yendw wolf's approach marks the end of its peace. Is that then, what peace is? A moment between danger, afforded by pure circumstance? If such a thing is peace then what benefit is craving something you know will have an end?" Nielda raised his hand and scratched at his scalp, the hair floating about it parted for a brief moment. The God rarely had mannerisms similar to that of mankind but as time went, Mairek noticed changes in the God's disposition. "Think of your time since leaving the Ganidan Plain, Diva, has there been any instance when your life was threatened save now? Can this then be regarded as a peaceful period, a time when time has ignored you and thus given you a period of rest? Of course time wouldn't ignore you forever, it must seek to right an anomaly and you should liken this as a Yendw wolf's paw upon a branch, young buck, and this should drive you to flee knowing that the peace afforded you has reached its end."
Mairek sat with his knees brought up and his arms circling the crest of his legs. He nodded his acquiesce. His eyes moved to the five men, frozen in time, their blades pointed at where he once knelt awaiting a quick death. The buck would not await the maw of the Yendw wolf, it will flee if possible and if not it would fight, hoping for a brief respite from death that might grant it another period of peace. Is this then what peace is? "I hear everything Nielda." Mairek started. "I see everything, even with my eyes closed. I feel everything as if my hand is forever grasping things and my tongue tastes things that I am yet to consume. Is this gift of yours a mark of peace? How will my sanity be anchored to me with all that I perceive?"
Nielda sighed. "You're a dumbass Mairek. A dumbass, if you can hear everything why don't you focus on the sound that pleases you the most? If you can see everything why not focus on an image that delights your soul? Perception is not confounded on the whole, you can focus on specific aspects of it that appease you."
"Is that what you did when you hovered above space for thousands of years? Did you focus on a specific sound while you were up there among the stars?" Mairek pushed. He knew if he kept up a barrage of questions regarding Nielda's time guarding the darkness above from an ancient evil, he might gleam something... Anything that would paint a vivid picture for him, a picture whose purpose he was yet sure of.
Nielda stared at Mairek and his eyes flashed a bright blue. The assassins started moving slowly and Mairek knew that time was regaining its flow. "No." Nielda said. "The one whose voice I wanted to hear was silent.”
Time resumed its course and the assassins thrust into open air. Missing their mark. They turned, puzzled expressions about their faces to regard Mairek at the foot of the reed bed. Mairek sighed. "Your deaths won't be on my head." He said as he stood up.
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The sun pierced the earth with its morning glow. Palace servants shambled about, eager to get on with their work. Guards stationed in various Palace compartments stood at alert, stifling yawns and conversing in low tones. The Palace kitchen was alight with activity, cooks chattered as dough rose and logs were fed into furnaces. Chamber maids emptied chamber pots. The King sat upon his throne and offered a silent prayer to Meena with the aid of the Red Priests, as it was custom for the King of Talisi with every new dawn. The gardeners tended the Conicual garden, pruning branches and inspecting bright colored petals. The daily routine of the Palace was under way, without a single anomaly felt or seen by all within the Palace.
It started as a scream when the maid sent to bring him his morning meal came across him leaving his tiny compartment. The maid ran away, screaming like a banshee and flinging his tray of food to the ground. Mairek flexed his shoulders and started walking towards Princess Tari's bed chamber. Where he knew she was inspecting an assortment of dresses, picking the best she would dawn for the first half of the day. With the maid's screams came the shuffling of feet, guards, cooks, gardeners, maids, Red Priests. They all flocked towards him, and when their eyes beheld him, they halted, words escaped them. Trembling gripped their limbs and all they could do was stare. They flanked him on all sides, and followed behind him at a distance. He did not turn his head to either side, he ignored them as he ignored the blood that trailed his path, marking his wake.
At another time, in another place. The five decapitated heads he held by their hair, three on his right hand and two on his left, would have sickened him. Their weight would have pulled at his soul and he would have been distressed by the action he was undertaking. But now, he felt nothing. He experienced everything and felt nothing. I am a buck, antlers riddled with the blood of a Yendw wolf, affording me an extended period of peace. And that was all he could define the moment as.
The Guards he came across took one look at him and let him pass, none too eager to test his patience. He climbed the steps leading to Princess Tari's chambers. A throng of Palace personnel behind him. The two Guards flanking either side of the Chamber's door halted him, placing heavy gauntleted hands on his chest.
"You cannot pass." One of them said, he towered over him and Mairek raised his head to observe him. He was aware of what a sight he was. Blood was sprinkled upon his face and stained his arms. The heads dripped blood on the floor and the smell of iron was rich wherever he went.
Mairek closed his eyes, felt the touch of the gauntlets upon his chest, he allowed himself to drift into the metal, to learn of its origin and how they came to be where they were now, upon him. The past is a vast sea, to swim its depths one requires a mind that can fragment, be two places at once, and in that current at the bed of time he was able to learn what he needed. He opened his eyes and turned his head to either guard. "These gauntlets, you place them on the bath house door, parting it gently to observe the Princess as she baths. A wretched thing both of you do, ogling the one you're tasked to protect. A simple reprimand wouldn't be enough, I will see both your heads on a spike at the Palace baths if you do not give me leave to do as I plan. I mean to cause no harm." He could not see their faces behind their helms, but he knew the look of shock and shame spread upon their visage. Shame, the anointed cousin of retreat, see as his gauntlets lower from my chest. See as they withdraw within, each of them eager to be rid of me within a miasma of indifference.
The Guards parted. Mairek raised a leg and knocked down the chamber door with one swift kick. The door sprung free of its hinges, tumbled and collapsed onto the ground, close to the foot of the Chamber bed. A good five feet within the Chamber. Tari stood, half naked with maids around her, her bosom rich and full, stilled as she regarded him. Then heaved as she saw what he dragged into her chamber.
Mairek walked onto the door and flung the heads onto the bed, watched as the blood seeped into the white linen cover of the duvet. Staining it a bright crimson. The heads stared in various poses, unblinking, sightless. Princess Tari gawked at them then raised her eyes to meet his.
"Their blood is on your head." Mairek said and turned around to depart. Those crowded behind him parted and in his wake eyes followed his retreating back.
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