Alarik's Crusade

Chapter 32: Memento Mori

Farmund returned with so many fish he could hardly carry them, an eager smile stretching from ear to ear. The fire was down to embers, but, setting down the fish, he quickly got to work reigniting it and preparing the meals. A stunning amount of the weight he had naturally lost over the journey through the rainforest had returned in just mere days, and his strength came with it. His muscles bulged and veins protruded from his arms at all times, like he was constantly straining even when he was at a state of rest.

Alarik again felt uneasy, but if the man was capable of providing his own food, even when he was consuming so much of it, then so be it. He could eat his fill. It wouldn’t hurt to have a man of great strength with them to ward off any animals Inaya mistakenly allowed through, or, under dire circumstances, if the Hashadi decided they wished to end their little intrusion by force. Still, Alarik looked on with concern at the focus in which the man cooked. There was a glean in his eye, a desperation like a starving man. He’d seen that look before in the desert, but no one was starving here. Not yet, at least.

“A final feast before we cross back over the river,” Alarik said as the fish was nearly cooked and Farmund was leaning back and forth on his log uneasily while he waited. “We’ll cross from the same spot and bring as much of the fish as we can carry. It’ll have to sustain us for some time.” He almost added there would at least be fewer mouths to feed on the return. Such would be the memos from the empire’s decree, if he were able to attain them. Crusade grows successful due to decreased personnelle. Food rations increase. Honour and glory in the Vanderik empire.

Upon finishing their meal and having had their fill, they gathered their things and prepared to set off. Farmund scraped the last pieces of meat from the thin bones of the fish, and hurried to catch up with the pace of the others that had already finished theirs. Along the way, he plucked berries from trees and shrubs and popped them in his mouth. Occasionally he would show a face of contentment, others disgust, but he would never eat just one regardless of the outcome. When Alarik turned to look at him, he would cover the berries in his palm and continue marching. The two gave not nearly enough credit to their old, wise commander, who was more astute than they knew.

They reached the river after only a few short hours of marching, still full of fish, but each lost in their own mind. Alarik saw the river as a beginning where once he saw an end. Inaya saw it as another obstacle in a series that felt endless. Farmund’s mind was so clouded by hunger he very nearly forgot the grim task he had completed here. For each, the crossing felt far different than it had been before.

Sopping wet, they reached their gear they had left on the other side. “My sword is missing,” Farmund announced. “Most of my armour as well.”

“Are you certain?” Alarik asked.

“Left it by my bag, which is still there. The weapons and armour, however, have vanished.” Casually, his head turned towards Inaya as it so often had.

She raised her eyebrows and feigned a look of concern. “Oh, do you think I stuffed it in my pack? Would you like to sort through it?”

“The Hashadi might’ve taken it,” Alarik interjected before the altercation became worse. “There’s nothing we can do. We press on. Check your bags, ensure we have everything, and move on.” Alarik began searching his own bag thoroughly. “One thing left behind can be crippling. Do a check, and check it once more. I know I’ve lost items already during this crusade, and I do not plan on doing so again.”

Meticulously, they went through each section of their gear individually, ensuring every piece was in its proper place. Their packs had many folds, and it was an arduous task. Farmund in particular looked like he was searching rather desperately. Alarik wondered casually if he was searching for some morsel of food that he had packed before, but ate it without realising. What had overcome the man as of late was a voraciousness he had never seen. It was incongruous with the man, so typically one of discipline and selfless resolve.

Yet, he passed by the food he had stored. Alarik began to watch him more intently. He searched the smaller pockets of his pack over and over again, reminding himself of how he must have looked when he was searching for the bandages that had disappeared from his own pack. He grew nervous, even though it was not his own things that were missing. He could sense it from Inaya as well. Something was amiss, and he believed he knew what it was. Inaya had not taken his advice.

Farmund eventually stood up and placed his hands on his hips. His shirt still soaked through, it revealed the muscles on his back, more massive than they ever had been. The man was growing to be a behemoth, and even standing calmly he made for an imposing figure. Although it felt like a useless gesture, Alarik picked up his as well. Deep down he believed he knew where this was going. How he wished it wouldn’t, but he knew. He had delayed it as long as he could.

Farmund turned and with a stunning swiftness grabbed Inaya’s neck as she busied herself with her pack. No one said a word at first, but it seemed that no one had to. Each knew why this was happening.

“Where?” Farmund whispered. “Hand it to me now, and your sentence will be lighter.”

Alarik stood. “You don’t have the authority to-”

“I am charged with protecting the dignity and safety of the empire. She threatens that duty, captain. She will be punished. Her punishment will be lighter if she complies.”

Inaya sat passively. There was a look on her face that was unfamiliar for the spitfire Khorsuli. To Alarik, she almost looked bored, but it wasn’t that. Her focus remained. Again, he felt he had seen this before, in the deserts of Khorsul. When they were trapped, beaten down, attacked at every turn and exhausted beyond reason, the soldiers eventually hit the point of… this. He couldn’t put a name to it. It wasn’t quite acceptance. Inaya would never accept the impromptu verdict put upon her by a Vanderik. But it was something akin to it.

“Let her go and we can discuss this, Farmund,” Alarik said in a quiet tone, hoping to diffuse the situation at least to within a point of avoiding bloodshed. “What are you proposing she has done?”

“As if you don’t know,” Inaya said, as casually as if they were speaking about their lunch, strained as her voice was with the hand around her throat. “I’ve made no intent on hiding my abject hatred for your empire. Your people clearly weren't effective in seeing that when agreeing to take me on. They’ve never been much for seeing the personal of the personnel. But you know all about that, captain Alarik.”

“The necklace,” Farmund said, ignoring her speech. He dropped her to the ground and held out his hand.

Inaya, breathing heavily, pushed herself up and placed one hand on the ground, and glanced towards Alarik. “So, captain. You let your soldiers battle each other, hmm? Is this how you led in Khorsul?”

Farmund demanded her attention further. “Return it to me. It is rightfully mine.”

“And how does one come to that conclusion? She’s dead, and you stripped it from her corpse! Her bloated body! You could hardly undo the clasp because it was so tightly pressed to her neck! And now it’s yours?” She coughed, sputtering. “A true Vanderik! Claiming what is not yours by the sheer statement of saying it is!”

“It is my charge,” he returned through gritted teeth. “It is my entire reason for being to protect-”

“Lot of good you did!” she said in line with a growl that came from the jungle’s interior. It was then Alarik and Farmund realised why she had placed her hand on the ground. She had called the rainforest’s animals towards this point. Circling them was a lithe, powerful panther, stalking amidst the trees, making its presence known. “You’re willing to bring more death upon us, then? Over a necklace? See your man, Alarik! See how he courts danger for a token!” She turned back to Farmund. “Are you ready to fail in your cause of ‘protection’ again?”

“This is your last chance. Hand over the necklace.” There was no fear in Farmund’s voice. No second guessing.

“Inaya!” Alarik called out. “Give the necklace and be done with this! Farmund, calm yourself, and we’ll settle this in a civilised manner!”

“I cannot do that, captain. This is a cause greater than your orders. Your last chance, Khorsuli.”

Inaya starred Farmund right in the eyes. Both were poised to slaughter the other, and neither showed even the slightest touch of fear. “The Vanderik have stolen nearly everything from me. So I took from them.” She reached into her pack and removed Edda’s necklace that she had taken from him. She held it up, letting the light gleam off the pristine Vanderik metalwork. Her eyes turned towards Alarik. “Captain, your last act towards me was to once more to cede to the demands of the Vanderik. To give up what I’ve taken. You weep over a necklace. Where were your tears over the graves of the Khorsuli?”

“Where were yours over the graves of my family?” Farmund snapped back.

“Bitter retaliation! You look to steal once more from Khorsul, once more looking to reach, and take, and to maintain, but I defy you! If you are to take one thing back from me, let it be my life, and with it you will learn that when Vanda seeks to conquer, their prize will only be the ashes of the lands they’ve burned! Curse you all! I defy you, now and forever! For Shalmanesser and for Khorsul!” In one fluid motion, she threw the necklace into the swift current of the river.

Farmund’s expression changed. In that moment, Alarik saw all the rage, all the pain he carried, all he tried to bury and control and accept, bubble up within him and overwhelm him in his entirety. He grabbed her by the throat with both hands, pulled her within an inch of his face, and yelled defiantly for the entire jungle of Hashai to hear. “I am a protector!” he bellowed powerfully. And with that, he twisted his mighty hands, causing Inaya’s neck to make a sickening pop, and dropped her limply into the grass. She was dead before she hit the ground.

“No!” Alarik yelled. “No!” he yelled again, pulling at the last vestiges of his rapidly retreating hair. The sound of his cry was nearly drowned out by the howl of the panther that suddenly advanced towards them, spurred on by the death of the one that called them forward and could no longer hold them at bay.

Immediately, Farmund leapt into battle. Alarik had not yet seen in action exactly why Farmund was hired in the first place, beyond his intimidating stature. While it was clear that he was always strong, to have a noble put into your care was something far beyond the average soldier. The palace guards, let alone a personal one, were the highest quality of soldiers the empire could muster. Their training, fitness, and personal demeanour all had to befit the highest class of warrior. Now, that warrior stood before him, no armour or sword but needing neither, and enhanced in a way he could not even fathom.

With incredible swiftness for a man his size, he leapt at the panther as it did towards him, and in a sight Alarik could hardly understand, he managed to match the beast’s strength and ferocity. It clawed at him, tore at him, but he battered it with his fists, pummeling its flank and trading blow for blow. Farmund’s bloodlust was insatiable, and his strength was unfailing. No matter how the panther struggled, he did not tire, his fists not losing power nor speed. It was hardly human, a living embodiment of rage and anguish.

Alarik was too stunned to even support the man. He had been walking with a broken man, and yet was still shocked when the inevitable collapse came. All the old events were happening again; an impossible task, a mission doomed from the very beginning, rampant hunger and thirst, and the inevitable slaughter that accompanies it all. Even if they made it back now, what does one do with Farmund?

The panther fell beneath the unrelenting pummeling fists, its growls replaced by the pounding heart and heavy breathing of the self-styled protector that was covered in blood and gore. Finally, he allowed his arms to drop by his side.

“I don’t think I can retrieve it,” he said.

“Retrieve what?” Alarik said back, harsh and abrupt. “Your soul? What have you done, soldier?!”

“My duty. My promised work.” He took a deep breath. “I regret to say I believe it is lost in the current. I don’t think it would be possible to-”

“That’s your concern,” Alarik said, shaking his head. He surveyed the territory of death and blood that surrounded him, not yet able to look towards where Inaya fell. “I thought you were different from that. I thought you were… I don’t know. Not… I thought you cared about your fellow man.”

“I was the closest representation to the empire that was left, and she sought to damage it. So she damaged me. She left me no choice.”

“I am a captain of a crusade, and you’re saying you’re a closer representation of the empire than I?” Alarik asked indignantly. How he was having this conversation by the corpse of one whom he respected was another matter. He still couldn’t look towards her.

“Yes. Yes, I think so. What the empire has done, what it is - it bothers you. I owe it everything. They gave me a new life. Allowed me to begin again. They took me in when I was broken. I wanted nothing more than to return the favour. I live and breathe the empire.” They paused for a moment. Alarik couldn’t counter his logic. The fires of Rukara burned in his memory. “I had no choice,” he repeated.

“Of course you had a choice!”

Farmund motioned to the south, to continue forward. “Are we pressing on, then?”

“You’re saying not to bury her?” Alarik said, shocked again. This time, he mustered up the ability to look at the body. It disgusted him. Not the body, he had seen death countless times before, more times than he had wished. He was disgusted by it all. The empire, the crusade, even Farmund.

“We buried Edda because she was a noble of the Vanderik. This one,” he said, tilting his head in her direction, “went against everything that stands for.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But you’re the captain. If you say we bury her, we bury her. Although I will let you know that the idea of her being buried along the same banks as Edda sickens me.”

“You didn’t listen when I told you to put her down…”

“I gave her a choice.”

“And I gave you an order.”

Farmund straightened with full military composure. “When we return, I will accept whatever decree the empire places upon me.”

“We’re burying her,” Alarik said with finality. “I’m burying her. And now, because I can stay in this forsaken place not a moment longer.” He began to dig in the soft earth by the banks of the river, the spot of his triumph and his shame, not far from the shallow grave of the duchess.

While he dug, Farmund began to set a fire. Alarik looked up from his work and placed his hands on his knees, and met him eye to eye.

“The panther may be the best food we have for days, captain. We cannot waste it. Call it the last gift from the Khorsuli. You’re the final soul under my protection, captain, and I will assure your safe passage. I will carry you if need be.” From his pack, he pulled out a flask and took a small taste - but more than he had ever taken before.