Alarik's Crusade

Chapter 34: Power

Vanda is a populous city. The towering structures of the nobility overshadow the slums that run along the outskirts of the land in ever-growing margins. In the poorest reaches death is a constant presence, from the disease of so many tightly packed inhabitants, to malnutrition, to whatever murderous group is looking to find an edge. Because of this, the shamans who worship the gods of the dead patrol the streets endlessly, waiting for the bodies to drop to be collected for burial. In the poor parts of Vanda, they’re called the Deliverers. In Theolar, they’re the Black-clad. In Farmund’s Eryx, they’re called Shavers, in light of their clean appearance. What they do with the bodies, no one knows, but the cities suffer their presence so the dead don’t rot in the streets.

Alarik marched through the rainforest, the final member of the crusade, but not alone. Always just in his eyeline, making his presence seen but not showing his hand, was Majad. Alarik wondered if the shamans of the dead, having a connection with the spirits the way the Vanderik do with metals, had any presence here. If they did, they would look not unlike Majad, always near, just waiting. A vulture by a dying lion. Or a dying sheep. They hover over the same way.

It must have been Majad’s doing to keep the various snakes and other animals from getting too near. Even with Inaya gone, their numbers still did not threaten him, instead only finding small game to hunt with his meagre skills rather than anything that could do him harm. Perhaps Majad just wished for him to suffer a slower death. Some sort of message to all Vanderik.

What supplies he had were dwindling rapidly now. He was still days, weeks even, from exiting the rainforest, and at the pace he was moving it would be even longer. It had progressed from a longshot at the beginning of the crusade to a near impossibility. This place would be his tomb, just like all the rest. His role, after all of the trials in Khorsul, would be to die alone in a rainforest after having failed his whole crusade. The culmination of endless soldiering, surviving countless battles, leading armies, braving the ravages of war for as long as he had. To survive all that, just to die here, withering away. Honour and glory in the Vanderik Empire.

---

“He walks alone now,” Majad told the others. “The woman died by the hand of the giant, and the giant fell shortly after.”

Jathi looked past the man, lost in her own thoughts. Adilash was visibly upset. “This didn’t need to happen,” he said, beating his walking staff on the soft ground. “It is by our hand they’re dead. We could have handled this so much better…”

“We decided this from the very beginning,” Jathi said with a calming hand on his back. “They were to be tested. We could not have anticipated that they would all fail the test, and yet still, relentlessly, push through Hashai regardless of the casualties. What possesses - possessed - them to continue is a shock to us, yes. But the safety and security of our people was the primary task, and in that, we’ve succeeded.”

“Have we?” Adilash asked, forcing himself up. “When the last one falls, it’ll be no different than if we slaughtered them all the moment they stepped foot in Hashai. What now when they send more to recover the ones they’ve lost, or to inquire on how they died? The death of one will draw others.”

“The last is not dead,” Majad added. “We could restore him. His will is still strong.”

“Does he know of the elixirs? We’ll be blamed - and rightfully so!”

“He knows of them. The giant confessed.”

“We must take the chance, then,” Jathi said, rubbing her fingers on her temples. She had not slept. Neither had Adilash. “We must speak with him. Provide him food.”

“Do we offer an elixir?” Majad asked. “The choice is yours. I am your will.”

“No,” Adilash said.

“Yes,” Jathi disagreed. “We must. We cannot come this far and not follow through. We are to test them. To see if any of the Vanderik people can have the strength to grow with us instead of against us. That is the way of Hashai. We must offer. He may yet have the conviction, and he may yet survive. But to offer him free passage without a test is to make this whole endeavour a pointless venture.”

“Then I will deliver it,” Adilash said with finality.

Majad lowered his eyebrows. “Again, you seek to remove me.”

“I wish to speak with him. Alone. I will tell him honestly of his choices. And… and I will give him what I have given Majad.”

Jathi gasped. Even Majad stepped back for a moment. From his robes Adilash pulled out a vivid red elixir and poured the contents into a flask. “What he does with it will be his choice. It is the least I can do. This last one… from what we’ve been told of him… we may yet have hope.”

“I will not let you do this!” Jathi yelled out, loud enough for the birds in the canopy to flee from the sound of her voice. “He will cut you down immediately! Even Majad might not be able to save you then, and if he were to drink the whole flask, he… I don’t…”

“If he were to drink the whole flask, he would lose his mind, slaughter me, and die drowning after trying to fight the river or suffocate from battling the air itself. I am willing to take the chance. I believe he will listen to me.”

“And if he doesn’t?” asked Jathi, indignant at even the concept of giving a foreign presence such power. “What then of us? What then of me? How am I to let you walk off to your own murder - and handing him the very weapon to do it?”

“It is a last resort. You must have faith in me to do this. I do not take it lightly.”

“I advise against this,” Majad said, his eyes just slightly wider than normal, the closest he has ever shown to any kind of trepidation.

“I thought you were my will,” Adilash snapped. “Bring me to him, before he collapses and it’s all for naught anyway. And prepare a meal.”

“Adilash…” Jathi started. She walked to him and cradled his head in her arms. “Adilash, please. Please listen to reason.”

“It’s reason that will get us through this,” he replied. “This one, the captain, I believe he will see it. We need to at least give him the opportunity. It is our duty to Hashai. It is what is best for our people. The risk, though severe, is worth it. Now I must move to meet him immediately. If we wait any longer, there may be no risk to take.”

---

Alarik’s legs had grown so weak that he was using the meagre strength left in his arms to push himself forward from tree to tree. The last ounce of power he had in his limbs would be to bring him just that slightest bit closer to his goal. His body was fueled by little more than determination now, as any muscle he had left had faded to malnutrition.

Yet there’s always hope for a military man. Even in Khorsul, one can believe there will be some fortunate event that comes down to save them. As they were fleeing their attackers through the desert, the Vanderik could always have sent reinforcements. They could come across a river. Their attackers could miraculously fall to infighting. Some oasis could spring before them and rejuvenate their souls. All one had to do was push further until that miracle presented itself. Or, push until it doesn’t, and there is no longer a need for hope. The hope then is that the Deliverers patrol the deserts like they do the slums of Vanda.

Another few steps almost brought him to his knees. His vision blurred, and the beating sun found its way through the canopy time and time again to bleed from him whatever energy he had left. And yet he walked further.

Suddenly, a very small clearing opened before them. He blinked to dismiss the mirage, but no matter what he did, the vision would stay. A small man, old, with a cane - Adilash, if he remembered properly from his first meeting - sat on a small log with a larger one opposite him. In between the logs were a number of delectable foods. Fish, seasoned and cooked, fruits cut and displayed with care, jugs of water sitting in the foliage beside.

If it were a mirage, so be it. Perhaps he would die in peace.

“We have not been the best hosts, Alarik of Vanda,” said the old man in a cool, calming voice. His tone was even, and he rose to meet his gaze.

“Hallucinations talk?” Alarik asked, his mouth dry and voice hoarse.

Adilash chuckled. “I can’t say, I haven’t met one. Please, sit. Have your fill of food and drink.” He motioned to the log across from him. “You’ll note we share the same meal.”

“A last one, for the prisoner?” Alarik said, not yet willing to sit. “We have that custom in the Vanda jails.”

“I would hope not.” He motioned again. “Please, please. We have the options of standing and staring or sitting and dining, and we are choosing poorly.”

Alarik eyed the food and drink. It must not be poisoned. Why bother? The old man could probably kill him himself, with just a poke of his cane. Loosely in the back of his mind there were notions that he shouldn’t take the food regardless, knowing that these people were surely the cause of the deaths of his fellow crusaders, but on the other hand, the sun caught the scales of the fish and glistened so invitingly, and the sweet smell of the fruits were so promising. He hardly noticed himself move to the log and sit down before he started eating.

Adilash sat as well, and began to eat along with Alarik, although at a much slower pace. Surely there was no purpose in starting a conversation now. The food was a priority far above speaking for the captain. For a time, they sat across from each other, enjoying their meals, albeit in far different ways.

Alarik finished his food at a tremendous pace, and couldn’t help but eye what remained of Adilash’s meal across the way. The old man noticed and looked up from his meal for a moment to catch his eyes. “Oh, I wouldn’t recommend it. You’ve been without a proper meal for some time now. You’d make yourself quite ill if you overindulge. It’s a habit of our people to ensure moderation.”

Alarik scoffed. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “So you’re not planning to kill me off like the rest of us, then? Well, I must apologise, but unlike your food I find your statement a little difficult to stomach.”

Adilash wasn’t bothered. Alarik’s response was exactly what he expected. It was also entirely justified. Yet he remained calm, having known full well what he was getting into when he decided to meet the man face to face. He wove his fingers into each other, a motion that was reminiscent of the upper class of Vanda to Alarik, and spoke in calm, even tones once more. “You have every reason not to trust me. But captain - may I call you captain?”

“I’m not a captain of much of anything. They’re all dead.”

Adilash frowned deeply. “I am terribly sorry. And I mean that truthfully. I never wished for any of this. And I should make it known that we did not directly harm a single one of your crusaders. Not one.”

“And yet they’re dead.” Alarik stood up. “I believe I’ve had enough of this. I’ll be on my way.”

He only made it two steps before Adilash was up and cutting off his path. “We both know if you continue on you will hardly make it a day, even after the meal I provided you. At the very least, hear what I have to say. Call it a trade for the fish, would you?”

Reluctantly, Alarik sat back down. He didn’t believe the conversation would amount to much, but he had such little to lose. That, and the man honestly did intrigue him. He had a bizarre way about him, where even though he was an old man he had a youthful spark about him, quick to reply and willing to take risks. “Alright. You have me. Now explain to me how you are somehow not responsible for the deaths of my crusaders.”

“You’ve seen the elixirs, have you not?”

“Farmund drank one before bloating to twice his size. Then, he shrivelled down to nothing and wasted away in agony. He was young. Brave. A good soul if I’ve ever met one. Is that the one you wish to speak of?” Alarik’s tone was biting, but he couldn’t seem to make the old man blink.

“Did he tell you what the elixir was meant to do?”

“Yeah. He did.”

“Then you know we did not kill him. His overindulgence killed him.”

“You helped him along.”

“We told him exactly how to find his strength and stay alive. It was his doing!” For the first time, there was a hint of frustration, a touch of impatience. That same spark of youth Alarik saw. But whatever fire was in him was quickly quenched. “I must apologise for my outburst. I don’t wish for us to be enemies.”

“Then what do you wish for? We were simply passing through your rainforest-”

“Why?” Adilash asked, finding his fire again. He had been on the defensive for long enough, but he was not about to allow his people to be painted as murderers. He was sent here because of his calm and rationality, but he was still a man of the Hashadi, loyal to his very core. “Why did you come here? If we are to speak truthfully to each other, let us have no secrets. Allow me to say the first. We can kill you. You are here as a guest. If we wanted to, it could be done, but we haven’t. No, we are not going to poison you like some cowardly assassin. Now, there is honesty. I hope we can make another trade. You be honest with me, now.”

Alarik stared at him for a moment. After a time of looking eye to eye, he leaned back on the log, and laughed. “You know, I think I like you.”

Adilash smirked back at him. “And I, you. But, I will not let you dodge the question.”

For a moment, Alarik had to pause and consider his answer. What was his purpose here? “Ostensibly, we were sent to find a path that led us to Rukara without having to rely on the waterways.” The fires filled his memory. “They told me we wished to trade with them.” The acrid smoke, the ravaged homes. “But I don’t believe they wanted trade. I believe they want mercenaries. They want a path to deliver goods to buy them off, without having to pay the Osvuldur to ferry us. The Rukara are destructive. And powerful. I believe Vanda wants them as an ally.” Images flashed in his mind of the deserts of Khorsul. However, instead of their defeat, he thought of Rukara shamans sending great bolts of fire past the iron-clad soldiers of the Vanderik.

Adilash raised his eyebrows. “Now that… that is honesty.”

“S’pose I have nothing to lose, now. As you said, I doubt I’m getting out of this rainforest without your help, and even then…”

“And?”

Alarik looked past him. Even past the rainforest. He thought of returning to Colonel Willamar and reporting his losses. “If I report another loss, another failure, well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be calling me captain if we were to meet again. I will be over. Finished. This was my last hope. And if I were to succeed - then to what end? I lead them to the Rukara, to…” The fires burned so brightly in his mind. He could almost hear the cries of the people of the ravaged village.

“We knew of the Vanderik, captain. We told you when we met. We’re half Rukara, and half your people, disrespected, dishonoured offshoots and unwanted offspring.” Adilash smashed his cane on the rainforest floor. “When your crusade came to our rainforest, we wanted to test you. To test if your people could show restraint when given power.”

“The elixirs,” Alarik said with a nod. “Each held great power. What each wanted. So,” he said, exhaling deeply. “Let me understand. We come to your doorstep - rainforest doorstep - and your people send three to meet us. This entire exercise has been a test. And we have failed, time and time again.”

“You would be correct.”

“Well, we’re not being subtle here, are we?” Alarik leaned back. “What will you offer me?”

To his credit, Adilash didn’t hesitate, nor did he try to explain as he went. He simply pulled the flask from his robes and handed it over to Alarik. The liquid inside was a deep crimson. Alarik removed the stopper, inspecting it, swishing it around, sniffing it like a fine wine. “What you have there is bottled war.”

“And what does that mean?”

He leaned in, as if he were to share a great secret. “Well, let me tell you something. Your former guardian - Farmund, yes? - a great warrior, surely.”

“Indeed.”

“If you drank from this potion you would make him look like he had the strength and speed of a child compared to a man.” He handed him the elixir.

It was Alarik’s turn to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “And yet here I am, holding it before me. What’s stopping me from draining this flask and delivering savage vengeance upon you, likely Majad as well from what you’re saying, and anyone else in this forsaken rainforest that gets in my way?”

“You can.”

“Well now that I did not expect,” the captain said, leaning back and whistling lightly. “You said honesty was important here. Tell me. Why give this to me then?”

“Because we need you to return home. To tell them that we did not kill your crusaders. Otherwise…” It was Adilash’s turn to look off into the distance, but this time not past the rainforest, but rather towards it, like he was trying to see it in its entirety. “Otherwise, war comes to our ‘doorstep’.”

“Big risk you’re taking.”

“It is. It was difficult to convince the others.”

“I feel you’re not telling me everything. These elixirs are what brought down the crusade, aren’t they? What am I missing?”

“Moderation, as I said,” Adilash explained with his hands out wide. “Drink the whole thing, and you’ll be stronger and more powerful than you could ever imagine. And filled with a rage you will not be able to contain.”

“So if I don’t drink the whole thing...”

“The energy to return, my friend. You survive and head back to your people. We can continue living ours in isolation. Unfortunately, I don’t believe the Hashadi and Vanderik will get along, but we may yet live separated but peaceful lives. It falls to you. All you need is a taste.”

Alarik was still incredulous. “And what are you hoping I tell them when I return? You clearly wish me to survive, if you’re bothering with this. And, to tell you honestly again, I do not feel particularly sympathetic to your plight when your rainforest is littered with the bodies of my brothers and sisters in arms.”

Adilash looked down at the rainforest floor, breathing a deep sigh. Alarik didn’t know if it was for the lives that were lost or how they had conducted themselves, but he believed that the man had genuine regrets. He just wished it was clear what they were. “You cared for them, didn’t you? Your crusaders.”

“Yes. I did. I do.”

“I want you to tell them we tried to help you, but the rainforest was too difficult to survive in.”

Alarik laughed, boisterously in order to prove a point, throwing caution to the wind on alerting the animal life. At this point, he believed the Hashadi had some means to protect themselves from them anyway - or perhaps it was just Majad staying close. “So you’re asking me - a crusader of a group of crusaders your people have mostly killed-”

“-Indirectly caused the deaths of, regrettably,” Adilash corrected.

“Really now,” Alarik said, running a hand across his sweaty brow. “So you’re asking me to go to my superiors and tell them you were helping us. And that it was the rainforest, that you’ve been living in for your people’s history, that killed us one by one instead. Annihilate my reputation and spit on the crusaders who lost their lives here, that’s what you’re asking.” Alarik laughed again, but this time softer, more melancholy, chuckling at the absurdity of the whole situation in which he had been thrown into.

“I’m afraid that is what I’m asking,” Adilash said without mirth. “I want you to weigh your options. One, you can say you’re the lone survivor of the Hashai rainforest, and the inhabitants began open hostilities against your party. It’ll bring you some acclaim, I’m sure, even though your companions have perished. But if you do that, you’ll bring war here. Many will die, both Vanderik and Hashadi. Perhaps they’ll cut through the rainforest and reach the Rukara by force, and what then? Fire and steel, bringing death even further. The second option is the one I’ve presented. I do regret what we’ve done. I should have spoken with all of you directly, as I am now. But I did not. And now it’s too late. But the choices are still the same, and you must decide how you wish to proceed.”

Alarik whistled, long and slow. “I guess I don’t need that potion to have power. Tell you what - I’ll consider it. But you have to promise me one thing.”