Mask

I know I haven’t written in quite a long time, but I took some leave from work to rest before transferring to another site. Then we had a frenetic four weeks getting that site ready for trade.

Recently I was at a cafe, waiting for someone to finish with an appointment, and I sat down with my tablet and looked at what I had to write. This jumped out at me and so I started going over it. I had to tweak a few things, and I’m sure there’s more to tweak before it gets published.

The following is the opening from book six in my sci-fi/adventure series;

‘KILL!’ spilled from the mouth of Elzbiata, commander of the Montakans.

She was standing on a cart from which she had addressed her people. Holding her weapon high, she drew it in an arc over her head and thrust it towards the opposing army, turning as she did to face them.

The troops she commanded began to move. Noticing a lack of enthusiasm for the attack, Elzbiata became enraged. ‘MOVE. They have brought you dishonour. They must all be killed.’

Across the plain, another single word was spoken. This also by a woman, Onyara, currently leading the people of Belfrayden. she was standing in the middle of her army.

‘DEFEND.’

The Belfrayden forces charged at pace and surged ahead to meet the oncoming Montakans.

They met in the middle, and whilst bodies were falling, mostly Montakans, there was no real effort to make advances.

Elzbiata, from her position on her cart, was becoming more and more unsettled as she watched her people falling and barely defending at the same time. She jumped down from the cart, removed her cloak, held her weapon high above her head and began to run through her troops. As she did, they fell away and regathered behind her.

Onyara saw this happen and climbed down from her vantage point and made her way through her troops. As she did, the Belfrayden fighters fell back. Word quickly filtered forward and a path opened up for Onyara to walk along. The troops paid her homage as she passed but were just as quickly ready for battle.

Elzbiata reached the battle line first and began to slash wildly and uncontrollably at all before her. Unfortunately for her, a lot of her attempts met with resistance or nothing. Before the battle, Onyara had specifically ordered that no one was to harm or attack Elzbiata. Defend themselves they must, but only defend. Move out of the way, but do not strike back. This is what the Belfrayden troops were told.

A sudden silence fell over the Montakans as the final wave of Belfrayden troops parted for Onyara, for all they saw was a figure resplendent in white. The Montakan troops fell away behind Elzbiata. As they did, Onyara entered the now forming ring. The two armies had formed semi-circles behind their leaders. The only people moving were Elzbiata and Onyara. One filled with rage, the other filled with calm.

Elzbiata made deliberate moves sideways, leering at Onyara, the sneer on her mouth noticeable. The grip on her weapon so tight, her knuckles were white. Onyara stopped short of the middle of the circle and kept her calm eyes focused on Elzbiata. Onyara’s weapon held firmly but lowered. Onyara’s calm demeanour only seemed to fuel Elzbiata’s rage.

‘You have caused my people to turn against me,’ Elzbiata spat.

‘You did that yourself, my dear,’ said Onyara.

‘I have only served my people. Taught my people. Encouraged my people. They were nothing before me. They came from villages that had been ransacked by villains. They had no homes. I gave them shelter. I gave them purpose.’

‘As have I. The people of Belfrayden have become good people. They have strong education, health, welfare. They have improved in every aspect of their lives since I have been with them.’

‘You did not see the remnants of your village on fire. You did not lose your parents in an attack on your village. The people of Belfrayden know nothing of hardship and adversity.’

With a guttural cry, Elzbiata charged forward her weapon raised above her head. Behind her, Onyara saw a man step forward, but she indicated for him to remain still. He acknowledged and stopped where he was.

Turning her attention back to Elzbiata’s pending attack, Onyara steadied herself and deftly defended the blow, spinning Elzbiata around and causing her to stumble. She quickly gained her footing and charged at Onyara again. Their weapons clashed with a thunderous sound in the silence of the battlefield. Onyara and Elzbiata traded blow after blow. Onyara using the rage and energy of Elzbiata to continually wrong-foot her, causing her to stumble repeatedly.

At one stage, Elzbiata stumbled towards Rankol, her older brother. As angry as she was with Onyara, she suddenly turned her rage on him.

‘You, you betrayed me,’ she said. ‘You ordered that the troops not fight for me.’

‘I did no such thing, Elz,’ said Rankol.

She lunged at him with her weapon, but he expertly fended it off, stopping Elzbiata in her tracks.

‘Elz, I love you. I always have, but this madness has to stop.’

Elzbiata screamed and charged back towards Onyara. She was beginning to breath heavily now.

Another duel began between Onyara and Elzbiata. Onyara defended herself and allowed Elzbiata to tire further. Onyara stepped deftly and casually around as Elzbiata’s rage fuelled her every lunge. Elzbiata paused to catch her breath and Onyara lowered her weapon, all the time keeping an eye on Elzbiata. At that point Elzbiata charged again but Onyara was unable to fend off the blow and Onyara’s sword was sent into the ground out of her reach. Onyara leapt to safety and Elzbiata lost her footing and stumbled. Elzbiata, seeing that Onyara was weaponless, lunged more furiously than before, and each time Onyara deftly stepped out of the way. One lunge caught Onyara’s arm and nicked it. This caused Onyara to stumble and fall.

Elzbiata seized on this and stood over Onyara. Onyara looked up into the eyes of Elzbiata and began to speak.

‘You can end this,’ said Onyara.

‘Yes, I can,’ Elzbiata hissed, bringing the tip of her weapon closer to Onyara’s chest.

Onyara maintained her calm which only enraged Elzbiata even more. Elzbiata raised he sword for what would be the final blow. Elzbiata brought her weapon high above her head but stopped and fell sideways. Her body slumped beside Onyara, who was now sitting up. Onyara looked at Elzbiata who had blood trickling from her mouth and then saw the tip of a weapon piercing her chest from behind. Onyara looked up and saw who had delivered Elzbiata’s final blow. Rankol was standing behind his sister, tears streaming down his face. He collapsed to the ground sobbing.

Onyara moved over to him and cradled him in her arms. ‘It is done now, my son. It is over.’

No one moved.

After several minutes, Onyara looked up as she heard the sound of swords being piled on top of one another. She looked around and saw the Montakan general and his captains lay their weapons down near her and kneeling, with heads bowed in her direction.

‘With humility and sorrow, we surrender, Lady Onyara,’ the General said.

In the silence of the field, the only sound to be heard was that of weapons falling to the ground. Then slowly all the Montakan troops fell to their knees, bowing their heads.

Onyara’s captains quietly moved and surrounded the Montakan general and his captains. Their weapons placed in their holsters at their sides.

As might be expected at the end of a winning battle, the Belfraydens did not cheer or celebrate. Instead an honour began to swell within the ranks.

‘Long live Belfrayden. Long live Onyara. Long live Montaka.’

Little by little the honour grew until every Belfrayden soldier was chanting. It soon spread to the Montakans and they joined in the honour. However, as Onyara noted, they did not speak the third part of the phrase, only the first two.

Onyara stood, helping Rankol to his feet. She nodded towards the Montakans and two stepped forwarded and escorted Rankol away from the scene. She then turned to face the Montakan General. ‘General, I would like you and your captains to please stand,’ she began. They stood; their heads still bowed. ‘Look me in the eye,’ she added gently.

The Montakans looked at her. What they saw was not a person of vindictive power, as they had been led to believe, but someone full of grace, peace and love.

Onyara stepped forward and held out her hand. As she stepped forward, the honour chant became quiet and silence fell across the field once more. It took a few moments before the General reached out and accepted the offer.

‘I will accept your surrender this day, but I do not see it as a defeat,’ said Onyara. ‘I see this day as a new beginning; a new beginning for both the people of Belfrayden and Montaka. This day will mark a turning point in the lives of everyone on Bel-Falon.’ Onyara looked directly at the General. ‘You are free now.’ He nodded and released Onyara’s hand.

‘When the sun reaches its peak tomorrow, your command will be escorted to a meeting on this spot. At that time, we will discuss the beginning of a new era in the relationship of your two peoples.’

‘I understand,’ said the General.

‘You are free to return to your troops and prepare them for what is to come.’ Onyara turned and moved back through the ranks of the Belfrayden army.

The Belfrayden Captains quickly moved and had some of the soldiers lead oxen pulled carts through the Montakan troops, who piled their weapons into the carts. As the Belfrayden soldiers moved through the ranks of the Montakan’s they were both puzzled and pleased at their expressions. Some of the Belfrayden soldiers spoke with the Montakan troops as they collected the weapons. As it turned out, the Montakan’s were quietly pleased that Elzbiata was dead for they sensed a huge weight had been lifted from them. They felt now they could live again.

The midday meeting was relatively brief and laid out the terms surrounding the conclusion of the battle. The agreement to be signed deliberately left out any mention of winning or losing but phrased it in terminology that was still undeniable in its implication. In the short-term, the Montakans relinquished control of the city of Montaka to Belfrayden until suitable leadership could be established.

Rankol received the body of his sister Elzbiata and returned it to Montaka. Onyara was invited, along with her anyone she wished to bring. She attended on her own, against the animated advice of her aides. Onyara witnessed a burial that was simple and elegant. Afterwards, Rankol spoke with Onyara and explained that the people did not want to erect any monument to Elzbiata, despite how much she had toiled and worked for the people of Montaka. Rankol himself insisted that she be buried deep beneath the central palace with only a small plaque indicating the spot.

Onyara was preparing to depart Montaka when Rankol to her. ‘I am ready to come to Belfrayden to begin working on a better future for our people.’

Onyara looked at him. ‘Is there somewhere more private we can speak?’

‘This way,’ said Rankol. ‘I know some of my people would have me use this chance to …’

‘If I did not trust you, Rankol, I wouldn’t be here,’ said Onyara. ‘Besides, I am well capable of defending myself.’

Rankol nodded as they entered a large room in the palace.

They took seats by a window and Onyara looked around the room.

‘This room was called the People’s Room. This is where Elz would receive the people of Montaka and listen to their concerns, queries, even ideas. I would sit with her and we would take counsel together.’

‘She cared for the people?’

‘Extremely deeply. We have been doing this for over three hundred annual cycles,’ said Rankol.

Onyara looked at him. ‘You are gifted with long life as well?’

‘Not quite. We discovered an element that was a by-product of us living here. It was added to our water and food supply. Everyone living here experiences long life.’ Rankol hung his head.

‘What is the matter, Rankol?’

‘We soon discovered a downside to the element. It made most of the people unable to have children, or they struggled to have them. It wasn’t until the third and fourth generations that this began to happen. As a result, there have been no new children born to us for over two hundred cycles.’

‘How are you, Rankol?’

‘I am well enough. I train daily. I have a good relationship with Davoth. Jathieu, Elz’s partner, is inconsolable at present. Davoth is with him now. I have not spent time alone with him yet, but I will soon.’

‘Do what you need to do,’ said Onyara.

‘As soon as I have settled things here, I will come to you in Belfrayden to do as you want.’

‘I see.’ Onyara regarded Rankol for a moment. ‘No, you are needed here. Montaka needs a strong governor. Someone who knows the people. Someone who will be trusted by the people.’

‘I am someone who betrayed the people and killed Elzbiata. My own sister at that,’ said Rankol.

‘Be that as it may, no leader is ever fully popular with the people, however, I sense that in you they will have far greater trust to know what is right than if I start appointing someone. I know that my people will want me to appoint someone from Belfrayden. That I will not do. There is no one else for the position; only you.’

‘I will accept.’

‘Very good. Now I can leave,’ said Onyara. ‘You will hear from me again soon.’

Onyara stood. Rankol followed and Onyara gathered him in a warm hug. As tall as he was, Onyara’s head only reached his chest. Rankol returned the hug and escorted Onyara to her waiting carriage.

As they appeared on the steps of the palace, a crowd had gathered and when they saw Rankol they began to cheer. Onyara looked up at him and smiled. Rankol was a little more surprised than he expected. It caught him off-guard.

‘See, you are right for the position of Governor of Montaka,’ said Onyara.

She climbed into her carriage and began her journey back to Belfrayden.

Two weeks later, Onyara was back in Montaka. In a room behind the balcony that sat above the plaza in front of the castle, Onyara moved and stood beside Rankol.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked quietly.

‘No,’ Rankol replied simply.

‘Good. You are ready.’

A fanfare sounded.

‘It is time,’ said a Montakan official, and indicated for Rankol to proceed outside.

With a small number of officials following, Rankol stepped through the curtains, Davoth beside him. When the crowd spied Rankol, they cheered like that had never cheered before. Rankol smiled broadly and reached for Davoth’s hand. Gripping it firmly, he stepped up to the balcony and waved to the crowd. Onyara stood on his other side. Surveying the crowd below, she was glad that many from Belfrayden had made the journey to celebrate with their neighbours.

Onyara raised her hands and the crowd became silent. ‘This is a day of celebration and rejoicing, but it is still tinged with sadness. I know many of you miss your beloved leader Elzbiata and I know that Rankol is missing his sister, and Jathieu is missing his partner,’ said Onyara. This was received with mixed emotions. ‘Let us not dwell on what has happened in the past for it cannot be changed. Let this day be a new dawning. A day to begin again. As part of that new beginning, I wish to present to you your new Governor, Rankol.’

The crowd cheered wildly. Rankol received the adulation in his stride. He stepped forward and raised his hands.

‘People of Montaka, it is indeed a new day. A new beginning for life and for living. We have forever forged a new relationship with the people of Belfrayden and I have accepted this position with humility and honour. From this day forward, we will use our knowledge and resources to build a better Montaka, a better Bel-Falon. If Belfrayden asks for our help we will give it. If we ask for theirs, they will give it. Many things will change from today, but who we have become will not. I look forward to your support as we move ahead.’

Rankol stepped back and the public celebrations began. Rankol moved among the people throughout the afternoon and was greeted warmly. He was promised support by any of those he met with. Some did not like what had happened, and he allowed them the chance to air their grievances. He did not back away and those who were too afraid to speak saw a very different man that day.

When it came time to return to Belfrayden, Onyara sat in her carriage silently.

‘Is something the matter?’ asked one of her aides.

‘It is time for me to depart,’ she said quietly.

‘Is your work completed, milady?’ the aide asked.

‘The work of a founder is never finished, but there must come a time when even a founder must move on and allow the people, she has worked with to develop on their own. I have been with these people for any a long year now. We have taught them any things. It is time they stood on their own.’

The aide nodded and smiled. ‘When will you tell the Council?’

‘As soon as our next meeting,’ said Onyara. ‘Perhaps it should be a full council meeting? Leaders, sub-leaders, deputies and juniors.’

‘May I suggest it be the executive council only, milady?’ said the aide.

‘What is your reasoning?’

‘If we tell too many people at once, the likelihood of the news leaking out before you can tell all the people is very high,’ said the aide. ‘Keeping it to the executive assures a better chance of the news remaining quiet.’

Onyara regarded the information. ‘You are right. I will meet with the executive as soon as it can be arranged. I also wants the Green Statuette prepared as I will leave it with these people as gift.’

‘Yes, milady.’

Two days later, Onyara walked into the Executive Council Chambers of the Citadel of Belfrayden. The Councillors stood as Onyara crossed he room and took her seat.

‘Thank you for attending this meeting on such short notice,’ began Onyara. ‘I have called you here today to announce that I will be leaving this city. My time here has come to an end.’

The Councillors erupted in many objections, but Onyara held up her hand and they silenced.

‘I understand your reluctance to let me leave, but I am a Second-Class Founder from Ru-Hana Katoth. I have stayed here on Bel-Falon much longer than I should have. The recent events with Elzbiata and the Montakans have hastened my decision. Not only do the people of Montaka step forward into a new world, but I feel it is time for the people of Belfrayden to make their own way. They have come far enough with my help. Yes, I could easily stay for many more years, but time is time. You will need to elect a new Governor to take my place.’

The Councillors still tried to dissuade her from leaving, but eventually they had saw that there was no changing Onyara’s mind.

‘It is a hard decision for all concerned, but it is one that needs to be made. Do not worry, I will always be with you.’

Onyara indicted to her chief aide. He stepped forward carrying the carved box. He placed it on its end beside Onyara. He opened the box and withdrew the statuette. It was 30cm tall and wore a full-length green robe, with matching high collar, covering a pale yellow and blue gown with gold trim. Around the hem of the robe, were eight symbols. A golden mask embedded with jewels covered its face.

‘I leave you this reminder of me,’ said Onyara. ‘Keep it safe. Allow the people to view it and they will always have the thought of me to encourage them.’

… I hope you enjoyed the beginning to one of my books. Chat again soon.