Authors: John Koetsier
Finally, the remnants of the mounted reds reached the edge of the woods and, swinging to the ground, ran towards our lines with bared swords, only to be met by an even greater volume of fire, now including thrown spears. Only half had made it to the trees, and more still were dropped as they dismounted and ran.
Perhaps 50 men made it to our lines. It was over almost before it started.
After the killing stopped, I mustered all our forces and looked around with disbelief. We had lost only a handful. Never before had the winning side lost so few.
Kin, Livia, and I laughed and joked and rested, ready for the darkness to close our eyes and take us.
We did not have long to wait, but I wondered, even so, what the gods were doing now. And what sort of a life this was to live: fighting, killing, dying. For sport or some other purpose?
I did not know, but fell asleep.
We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
How soft your fields so green, can whisper tales of gore,
Of how we calmed the tides of war. We are your overlords.
- Led Zeppelin
There was never any sensation of time in a pod, but waking seemed quicker than before. Different.
I got out, warmed, stretched, yawned. Something was odd. As I grabbed my clothes, I finally noticed the obvious: I was alone.
No one else was awake.
Wondering if this was some mistake, I looked at the other pods. Pulling on my shirt, I checked Livia’s pod. I could see her, dimly, inside. Everything looked fine, but having no idea what the slowly blinking lights on the pod meant, I could not tell whether she was OK or in danger. Working my way from pod to pod, the same was true: everyone looked fine, but no-one was waking up.
Fighting a rising panic, I calmed myself by taking a few deep breaths. This had never happened before. What on earth was going on? Wondering, I headed toward the feasting hall. Was I the only one?
In the hall, at the table my troop usually occupied, at my place in front of my seat, there was a full, steaming plate — obviously just placed there. So there was no glitch … this was expected and planned. But what it meant was beyond me.
However, the plate was full and my gut was empty, so I did what was natural and set about reversing conditions. Meanwhile, I scoured my brain for something, anything, that would give me a clue about what was going on. No answers presented themselves except a niggling feeling of deja vue … a sense that something like this had happened before. But nothing more, nothing concrete. Nothing that made any sense.
When the smoke formed, I almost grinned. All the show just for me? The mists formed and fell, the sphere appeared, turned transparent. And Hermes appeared.
“Geno. Come with me.”
Immediately, without transition, we were elsewhere. Maybe elsewhen, too. Somewhere in a place — or on a world — I had never seen.
We were on a wide, grassy plain. Trees grew here and there, but there were no hills or mountains — in fact no horizon. The plain stretched, it seemed for hundreds of kilometers in all directions, and clouds, far distant, encircled the plain. Just before the cloud, I saw silver gates — city gates. But any city, if indeed there was one, was lost in the mists. A narrow path wound through the plain to the gate. I saw all this in an instant, then turned to the side.
Beside me was Hermes, but not twice human size, nor glowing.
“My Lord,” I said, going to one knee.
He smiled, motioned me to get up, and started down the path.
“Walk with me, Geno. We’ll go to the gate.”
As we walked he looked over at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Gods can appear in many forms, G, and sizes. This one is appropriate for today. For now.”
So now I understood why he was not twelve feet tall, or gleaming with barely contained light. A million other questions buzzed in my brain, but I waited for Hermes to speak.
“You may ask.”
“Lord, why am I here? Why did I wake alone? What would you have me do?” There was more, but I figured those were the three most important questions. Though the answer was probably the same for each.
Hermes smiled. He walked down the center of the narrow path while I pushed through thigh-high grasses at the edge. He was in no hurry to answer or to arrive.
“You have many questions, including those few. But they are the key ones,” Hermes said slowly. “I have chosen you, Geno. In the beginning, when we created all the warriors you know and fight with and against, I chose you.”
He paused, and was silent for a few minutes as we slowly strolled down the path. Insects buzzed at our feet, and birdsong echoed from the trees. The sun was warm on our backs. I remained silent, patient outwardly if not inwardly, knowing that Hermes would continue when he was ready.
“Many things are not what they seem. You are not in the afterlife, Geno, as much as you are getting an education.”
Silence filled the space between us again. I was in a school? I knew of course what that was — there was a great deal that filled my brain without me knowing precisely how I knew — but only a dim image of a room, of lessons, a teacher came to mind. Everything I thought I knew about school was not what filled my everyday existence.
“School is perhaps not the term that you would recognize best. Call it boot camp, then. Boot camp for the warriors of the gods. It is already almost over.”
“When it is complete, you will be given tasks. You, and a few others, perhaps. But first, there will be a final test.”
Hermes said no more. As we neared the silver gates, suddenly close to what had seemed impossibly distant only a few short minutes ago, I knew that he had given me all the information he was going to … and that I’d been given some time to prepare. That was all I would get — it would have to be enough.
Now the city was visible through the bars of the gates. I glimpsed towers and spires, fantastical structures, half-visible in the blowing mist and cloud, appearing and disappearing as if by magic. They were impossible shapes, curved and smooth, graceful and beautiful. I wanted to go through the gates and explore this city which I knew instinctively was the city of the gods. But just as surely I knew without asking that I would not be permitted.
As Hermes dismissed me he spoke again, more to himself than to me, and hardly to be heard over the soft whisper of the gentle wind.
“The wars of the future are now the wars of the past.”
This time the transition back to the hall seemed to take a moment or two. As I felt myself going I looked one more time to the city. Something struck me, some chord rang inside, and I knew there was more. I had seen this before. I had never been there … but I had walked those streets.
Then I was back in the main feasting hall and other warriors were streaming to join me.
I shook my head, shocked and confused. Muttering greetings to friends and acquaintances who noticed me, I headed for the freshers, needing some time to think, to try to grasp what Hermes had told me. Sluicing my face with water, I thought of the city I had never been in, but seemed familiar. Why?
I dried myself, looking into the mirror and seeing olive skin and dark hair atop a harsh, almost brutal face, and my confused, wondering grey eyes. My attempts to piece it all together were meeting with complete failure.
“There he is!”
I only half heard the harsh whisper and turned slowly to the source. A burly shape was entering. I could almost recognize him … searched my memory until I placed it: a huge warrior I had killed a couple of battles ago. Rast, someone had called him.
He was not alone.
Four or five joined him, filled the fresher, and formed a semicircle around me as I finished drying off and tossed the towel. I took my time, not sure what this what about, but taking care to show no alarm, no fear, and no worry. But I did mentally prepare for action.
“What’s this about?” I dragged it out, slow, calm.
“What’s it’s about, Geno, is you. You god’s pet! Think you’re always going to win? Think you’re always going to live?” Rast thrust his face in mine, belligerent, angry, crowding me.
I straightened to my full height, caught and held his eyes, and moved in on him until our noses were almost touching. If he really wanted to have it on right then and there he would not be disappointed. Friends or no friends, I had never backed down from a physical challenge and I wasn’t going to start now.
“Yes. Yes … in fact I do.” My tone made it very clear that this little confrontation was one which was very definitely included in the list that I intended and indeed expected to win.
Rast straightened, backed off fractionally. The direct response didn’t frighten him, exactly, but it was clear he had not expected me to be so calm and unworried, surrounded by him and his little gang.
“Just as I expected,” he half-smiled, working to regain lost momentum. “Things are going to be a little different next time, however.”
“As in, you’ll die sooner?” I couldn’t resist the little dig. Angry people were usually stupid people, and stupid people were easier to defeat than smart people.
He laughed harshly.
“See us, G? All five of us? None of us are going to fight with anyone, G, except you. We won’t even look at other fighters. We are coming for you, and we are coming together, and one of us will kill you.”
His words were menacing, delivered in a harsh whisper, but I had heard worse. Still, this was a formidable threat: an attack by five trained warriors, simultaneously, while in the heat of battle and potentially occupied with other threats. That said, I knew how to blunt his weapon.
“You won’t fight others, you say? You’ll run away from challenges? And how will this look when the gods review the battle? You want to sleep and not wake up?”
The others with Rast shifted restlessly. The obvious problem with their plan had, in fact, occurred to them, and they were not blind to the implications. But another, presumably, had not.
“And what if you happen to be on my team next time?” I smirked, looking at my increasingly nervous opponents. “What then, you’ll attack me anyways?”
“Nice try, Geno,” Rast cut in, trying to regain the offensive. “The gods know what’s up. They know about primary objectives. I’m thinking they’ll understand.”
“And even if not,” he continued, “We’re not letting this stand. You’re not going undefeated. You are not continuing undead. You will
die
, Geno, and I don’t think Hermes will care very much how.”
The last was delivered in a harsh whisper. A shiver ran down my back as he mentioned Hermes — Rast spoke as if he knew something that I did not. Just then the bell for dinner sounded, and Rast and his cohort melted away to the feast halls, one of them kicking down a servitor in passing.
I followed slowly, lifted the little machine back onto its wheels, and heard his last words echoing in my head.