Heng VIII

PA 1 – June

The months passed by swiftly as his tribe migrated further east. The Scarlet Tree Chieftain, Michael, had bid them to follow them, and so the tribe as a whole followed him further east than they’d ever gone before.

Plains became trees, and the thin streams they were used to widened into true rivers. The land became colder, the plants greener, and the trees taller. Soon enough they left the prairie entirely, entering what seemed like forest after sprawling forest, the trees growing out endlessly ahead of them.

Eventually the trees gave way to an open clearing, and eventually a city, sitting along the largest river he’d yet seen in the world. The city was surrounded by large, looming walls built from thick tree trunks, hiding away even the tallest of buildings. To the city’s far left a harbor sat, filled with boats and merchants alike. Guards patrolled the tops of the walls, and civilians walked between the surrounding farms and the city freely. From here it looked a peaceful, prosperous city.

But lurking just within the tree line were Heng and his new (Boss? Liege? Accomplice?) Michael, watching the city warily.

“It’s disgusting,” Michael spat quietly. “I hate even looking at it.”

“What, the city?” Heng asked, giving the other man an odd look. Sure, he was constantly going on about how ‘civilization was a mistake’ and all that, but really? Wasn’t this a bit too far?

“Not the city itself,” he grunted, before motioning at the clearing around them, “but what they’ve done to the land to create it.”

At first Heng didn’t understand what he was talking about. Then, looking at where he was pointing, Heng began to notice the dozens, if not hundreds of tree stumps littering the clearing between them and the city. They got less common closer to the walls of the city, being replaced by small pits where old stumps had been torn out, before transitioning into primitive plots of farmland.

“How many trees did these people cut down to build those walls,” Michael growled. “To make that farmland. Once these trees reached the river—now this can’t even be called a forest.”

“You exaggerate,” a woman’s voice calmly refuted. “It is a travesty, but you are making it out to be worse than it is.”

“And you’re underselling it,” Michael shot back, before sighing. “But I see your point. It’s not the only reason we’re here, anyway.”

Heng glanced backwards, noting the others who had joined them.

It was not any of their mortal followers who stood behind them, but fellow immortals who had fallen in line with Michael’s expanding horde, their own armies following.

Leysrit, a short German woman who looked like she’d stepped right out of a 50s dollhouse, with short curly blond hair and clear porcelain skin. Ivan, a Russian bear of a man, with thick curly dark hair and a beard to match. And Jing, an older lanky Chinese woman with a pinched, tired expression that spoke of years of stress, whose greying hair was tied behind her head in a tight bun.

The three of them made up the rest of Michael’s ‘Allies’ along with Heng. They were also leaders of their own nomadic tribes, who’d been falling in and out of contact with each other as the lot of them were dragged further Eastward by their new boss.

But now they were here, gathered together in one place for the first time since he’d met Michael all those weeks ago.

Actually… “So why are we here?” Heng asked, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Is there a reason you dragged us out here? Or did you just want to stare angrily at a city?”

Michael rolled his eyes, turning away from Leysrit. “No, there is an important reason I’ve gathered you all here. Why I’ve gathered the armies of all five of us together in one place. Soon, we will make good on the promise we made, when you all swore to my cause.”

The four of them stood straighter, shocked and wary. If he was telling the truth, then… “You mean,” Ivan rumbled, crossing his beefy arms over his chest, “you plan for us to go to war.”

“Yes,” Michael nodded sharply, spreading his arms wide. “Take a good look, my friends, my comrades—this city is the embodiment of evil. Not just for what it represents, but for what the people within have done. This is Stenstad, the capital of the Stonesmith Kingdom. Ruled by a King whose greed and thirst for power has led him up and down this great river, committing atrocity after atrocity as he went. His armies have sacked cities; he personally has killed a half a dozen of our fellows; and his people live lives of decadence born from the wealth of those they oppress. This, my dear allies, is everything we hate represented in a single city. And that is why it must be destroyed.”

The forest was silent, the four other immortals taking in what he’d just said.

For Heng, he was torn. On the one hand, he hated the idea of going to war. He hated the idea of his own people dying for other people’s battles. On the other hand, if this King really was a warmonger, then stopping him now before he continued hurting other people might be necessary. On the other other hand, he wasn’t sure he trusted what Michael said—what if he was lying? Or even just wrong? Would they be declaring war on innocents if he was?

“…Very well,” Leysrit nodded sharply, pulling him from his thoughts. “I am not so callous as to ignore this land’s plight. You will have my soldiers, my Survivors. If even a quarter of what you said is true—and I do not doubt that it is—then we will be more than willing to join you in this battle.”

“Thank you, Ley,” Michael smiled at her, turning to the rest of them. “What about you all? Will you join me in cleansing the world of this cesspit of a city?”

“HA!” Ivan barked out a laugh. “What, did you think we wouldn’t? We’ve followed you this far because we believe in your cause—my armies are behind you, one hundred percent!”

“As if we could refuse,” Jing rolled her eyes apathetically. “What’s even the point in asking? Like the big lug over here said—if we weren’t going to join you here, we wouldn’t have followed you this far in the first place.”

Heng, suddenly realizing he was the only one to have not agreed, found his mouth moving before he could think. “I’m not a fan of war,” he said, drawing all the other’s eyes to him. He clenched his fists, but forced himself to continue. It was just like speaking to the Elders, just with worse consequences if he messed up. “However, I’m also not a fan of warmongers. And if this Stonesmith King is going around killing people, then obviously we’ve got to stop it, yeah?”

“Of course,” Michael nodded at him, giving him one of his creepy, genuine smiles. “Is that not the reason for our cause? Our purpose? To make this world a better place, one dead tyrant at a time?”

“To the death of tyranny,” Ivan rumbled in agreement.

“To avenge those who’ve fallen,” Leysrit smiled tiredly, bitterly.

“To our future,” Jing nodded, a hint of something behind her eyes.

“…To the people who depend on us,” Heng finally nodded, uncertain of his resolve, but certain that he couldn’t do anything else.

Their course set, they nodded to each other, returning to their respective camps to begin preparing.

However, while the other three left, Michael remained behind, holding back Heng as well. “You know, with your mammoth, we could knock down those walls easily.”

Heng scowled at the man, anger flaring. The gall. “Like hell,” he shot back immediately. “Mohu’s not a fucking war elephant. Heck, she’s practically a wild animal! I can’t just point my finger and tell her where to attack—and even if I could, I wouldn’t!”

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“Her intervention could save the lives of many of our soldiers, Heng,” Michael calmly replied. “We could all rest safer, knowing a creature like that is on our side.”

“Okay, putting aside even the moral aspects of forcing an animal to fight a human war,” he began, taking a vindictive enjoyment of the man’s flinch. For someone who loved espousing his own morality, he needed to spend more time considering the morals of his own damn actions. “How do you expect me to control Mohu once the fighting starts? Sure, I might be able to get her to charge at the enemy if I get creative enough, but what happens after? What happens if she loses control in the middle of the battle, turning and trampling our own men? What happens if she dies, Michael?”

“…Alright, you’ve made your point,” Michael sighed, turning away from him. “We’ll come up with another plan.”

“Good,” Heng barely stopped himself from snapping. He then sighed, shaking his head. “Well, whatever. I’m going back to my camp—if you need me again before the battle, just come get me.”

“Of course,” the other man nodded. “…Oh, and Heng?”

Heng paused, turning back to look at him. “Yeah?”

“…Thank you. You need not worry—I won’t ask you about your mammoth again.”

‘You’d better not.’

But Heng didn’t say this out loud. Instead, he merely nodded sharply, and retreated further into the woods, leaving the Scarlet Chieftain to continue his mad vigil over the city.

--

That evening, Heng found himself dragged away from his own people by his new allies, the other three immortals inviting him to eat dinner with them. And so that found the lot of them—minus Michael, who was off with his own tribe—sitting around their own private campfire, eating from a communal pot of venison stew, boiling away over the fire.

“…so there I was, butt naked except for my gloves, standing waist deep in the freezing cold river,” Ivan grinned widely at them, in the midst of sharing a story. “Across from me, the bear—a big, brown beast—was staring at me, a dead fish clenched in its jaws, staring at me with a hunger in its eyes. It was in that moment I knew; that tiny little fish wasn’t going to sate its appetite—it was coming for me next.”

“How did you escape?” Leysrit asked, an amused, indulgent smile on her face. “I imagine the bear wasn’t going to let you go easily.”

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I’m delicious, and we both knew it. But you don’t back down from a bear—makes them think you’re prey. And you don’t want them to think you’re prey. So I raised my arms high in the air and start waving them around, making myself look as big as possible. The bear, of course, wasn’t impressed, and took a swipe at me, carving a line from my nipple to my crotch. Any deeper, and it would’ve killed me instantly!”

“So?” Jing grunted, rolling her eyes. “You’d just heal immediately anyway. Hell, I lost a hand last year and it was back less than a minute later.”

“Oh, you think this happened after we arrived in this world?” Ivan tutted, a wide, smug grin on his face. Reaching down, he pulled up his leathers, revealing a long pink scar stretching along his stomach. “Took the docs days to stitch me back together after that. I had those things in for years. Even got a matching one on my thigh. I repaid it in kind a moment later, punching it hard in the nose and chasing the damn thing right off!”

Jing let out a low whistle, looking suddenly much more impressed. “Damn. And here I thought you’d made the whole thing up.”

“Oi! I’ll have you know that’s not even the worst scar I’ve got!”

They laughed as Jing continued to needle the man, a thin, smug grin on her face as she did so.

But soon the moment passed, and they began to quiet down again, giving Heng the opportunity to ask something that had been bugging him for a while now.

“Hey, I was wondering,” he began slowly, looking each of them in the eye. “Why are you all following Michael, anyway? I mean, I know my reasons, but what are yours?”

The three others blinked, looking startled at the question. However, unexpectedly, none of them looked eager to answer, a pensive look growing on each of their faces.

Finally, it was Leysrit who spoke up first.

“…I was once a Queen, same as all of you. Same as all the others,” Leysrit began slowly, her words calm and controlled, yet belaying a burning rage hiding beneath the surface. “My people were settled far to the south, in a place more desert than plain. There were a couple other God-Kings around us, settled all along the same river. At first… at first, I thought we could live peacefully together. It turns out I was wrong.”

With every word she spoke her face grew darker, her eyes sadder, and soon she’d curled in on herself, staring deeply into the fire.

“…You don’t need to continue, if you don’t want to,” Heng told her softly. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. It’s obvious this is something that hurts you.”

“No,” she shook her head firmly, blonde curls bouncing wildly. “I want you to know. To know why I fight. Why we fight. It is because we were betrayed,” she snarled. “Betrayed by so-called ‘civilized’ people, who saw we were weak, who saw we were easy prey, and so they threw away all the truces and treaties we had written up beforehand like the worthless pieces of paper they were. They burned down our homes, slaughtered our people, and pillaged our storehouses. And then, they had the gall to demand that I kneel! That I just forget everything they just did, and serve them like some kind of worthless puppet!”

The woman was breathing heavily, food forgotten as she shoved her fists into her knees, staring angrily into the fire. The rest of them stayed silent, the only noise the cracking and popping of the flames.

“…There was no way I could accept that,” she continued, subdued and tired. “No way. So I left. I fled. Along with anyone who’d follow. Those who remained… I don’t know what happened to them, but they made their choice, and I made mine. I won’t begrudge them that. So here I am, but two dozen people follow me of my original citizens, their homes and families lost to the greed of pathetic men playing as kings, left with nothing but to follow the foolish, weak woman they swore themselves too in her doomed crusade to avenge them.”

Heng was quiet for a long moment, not sure what to say about that. It reminded him suddenly of that counter, in the back of his head. Constantly ticking down.

One hundred thirty-three God-Kings had died. One hundred thirty-three people had died. And who knows how many followed them.

Suddenly that abstract number in the back of his head felt all the more real.

“…I’m sorry,” Heng rasped, not knowing what else to say. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“That’s why we have to fight, you see,” Ivan rumbled, his face twisted into sorrowful anger. “Why we have to pull out this weed from the root. It’s as Michael says—civilization was a mistake. Whether the stone age or the modern age, all it does is allow cruel, greedy men to oppress people they see as inferior.”

“So you agree with Michael, then?” Jing asked softly, still calmly eating her food. “Did something similar happen to you?”

“Hmph. If you mean in this life, no. My people have lived peaceful, happy lives under my watch,” he shook his head, then paused, before visibly steeling himself. “However, in my past life… Well. My father was a passionate man. A man who raged against any injustice. And in the Soviet Union, injustice was not so hard to come by. My father was taken when I was young—too young. Even now, I cannot remember his face. All that was left was my mother, and while she was a strong, good woman… she was not Russian. Her family was from Kazakhstan, and so everyone looked down on her for it. She raised me well, but the moment I was old enough to take care of myself… it was like her heart could no longer go on.”

Jing glanced down at her food, taking another bite. “Life truly is cruel,” she sighed tiredly.

“They called it Utopia,” Ivan grumbled, his eyes hard. “And when it collapsed, I left for America. They called that Utopia too. It no longer surprises me they both were lies.”

Heng felt himself squirm, feeling suddenly very out of place. Sure, he didn’t have the best life back in the old world, but compared to the tragedies he was learning of today, it no longer looked nearly so awful. Compared to them—even if he didn’t want to be here—he still felt like he didn’t deserve to stand beside them, these people whose goals and motivations were so much more real than his.

“And I’m sure we will call it Utopia as well,” Jing spoke calmly, her words taking a moment for the rest of them to register.

“…What,” Ivan growled, “do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Jing finally looked up to glare at them. “That it is all well and good to preach the death of civilization. That it will make the world a better place. But that does not mean it will, you know? I understand that you have reasons to fight—good reasons, even—but that does not make your fight inherently righteous.”

“Then why are you here, if you do not believe in our cause?” Leysrit cut over Ivan’s angry spluttering, her voice not necessarily harsh, but certainly not kind. “Why, Jing, are you here?”

Jing snorted, turning back to her food. “Because I’m a coward. Michael is strong, and driven, and charismatic. He’s already gathered the five of us together—I imagine he’ll continue gathering more. Already his army numbers in the hundreds. And soon enough, that number will exponentially increase, and his ideological army will spread like a plague across the continent. And when that time comes, I’d rather be on the side of the plague, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ivan scoffed, and returned to his cold meal. Jing didn’t speak another word, seemingly deciding to block out the rest of them. But Leysrit turned to Heng, a frown on her face.

“What about you, Heng?” she asked him curiously, visibly forcing herself to calm down. “Why are you following Michael?”

Heng jumped, having not expected to be asked. Though in hindsight perhaps he should have. Startled he opened his mouth, almost immediately spewing out the real reason he was here.

‘Because he will kill me if I’m not.’

But he closed his mouth, knowing he could not say that. Not if the way they reacted to Jing was any indication. Heng was not the smartest man in the world, but he wasn’t that stupid.

Instead, after taking a moment to think on it, he replied, “I’m here because I want to protect my people. My friends, my family, my wife. Whether or not ‘civilization’ is the enemy is irrelevant to me. So long as they’re safe, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect them.”

To protect them from Michael went unsaid and unnoticed, but the meaning still hung behind his words.

But when Leysrit gave him a brilliant—if longing and weary—smile, and Ivan nodded proudly at him, he decided that if they didn’t notice—well.

There was no need to tell them.

9,867 God-Kings Remain