MAN OF WAR

12

Each day more soldiers and more sailors arrived. The soldiers’ quarters of the palace yard had become quite full of men. Many of which seemed to know one another. They filled the yard gathered in large groups socializing, drinking, and wenching. Many of the slave girls had been forgiven their duties to entertain the men. Dancing and listening to their stories, whoring with the troops. Jade watched from the window, afraid to leave the house with so many rowdy men outside.

            Titus had spent much time with the others. As more men came in, more of his friends did too. His entire crew had even arrived the day before. “Why are there so many?” She asked one night laying in bed after a passionate tryst.

            “So many what?” Titus asked, panting as he lay beside her.

            “So many men,” Jade said, rolling over and propping herself up on his chest.

            Titus smirked up at her and twined her long ebony hair around his finger. “Am I not satisfying you, Sweet Siren, that you must think of other men?”

            She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. It was not what she had meant, and he knew it. Why must he torment her so? “It is hard not to think of them when they are so many in number and just outside the door.”

            He gazed into her eyes. “They will not harm you,” he promised.

            “How can you be certain?” She asked. Titus could not guarantee every man outside their door would keep their hands off her. She had enough experience with men to know that when one wanted something, it mattered little that it belonged to someone else.

            “I will cut down anyone who tries,” he vowed.

            Jade smiled; she believed him. “That does not explain why each day, more and more soldiers show up. Why have you not shipped out?” She asked curiously.

            Titus sighed, and his hands stroked her back as he rolled his eyes with annoyance. “The Emperor will not allow any unit to ship out until the spy is found. He is positively obsessed. No one is allowed to leave the city. Each day more units report in and are not allowed to leave until the spy is caught and executed,” he grumbled. “Besides what do you care, it gives us more time together. If I did not know better, I would believe you wished to be rid of me,” he said, kissing her playfully.

            Jade sat up with panic in her heart. “Be rid of you? You will not take me with you?” She asked. The idea that he believed he could simply leave her behind astonished her.

            Titus sat up and stared at her as if she were daft. “Of course not. I am going to sea. I cannot take you to sea with me.”

            “Why not? I was with you already at sea,” she reminded him.

            “That was different.”

            “Why?”

            “You were a prisoner.”

            “I still am.”

            He looked down as if trying to find the right words in which to deal with her. “Jade, I cannot have a woman on board my ship. It is not safe.”

            Her eyes narrowed with annoyance. “But it is safe to leave me here alone with random soldiers and sailors coming and going, leaving me defenceless to fend them off? What is to stop them from doing as they please while you are gone? Who will stop them while you are at sea?” Jade snapped with tears in her eyes.

            “You are hardly defenceless, my dear,” Titus said, reaching for her. “You did Logan much harm. I do not think he will tangle with you twice,” he said with a smile. His smile only made her angry. He was making light of her fears. Jade climbed from the bed and pulled on her chemise. “Oh, now come on, Jade, do not be like this. Come back to bed.”

            “You are mocking me,” she snapped bitterly, hastily dressing in her light blue dress. “You have taken away my means of defence and mean to leave me helpless.”

            Titus rose from the bed and pulled on his britches, following her out into the next room. “You are making this into more than it need be.”

            “Am I?” She asked, appalled that he would think so. She could not believe that he would not see reason. That he could not see the danger he would leave her in should he abandon her here. “Shall we put your theory to the test?” She suggested opening the door to the house and looking out over the festivities. “I wonder just how long it would take me to find another protector,” she said silkily casting a flirtatious glance over her shoulder at Titus.

            The look in his eyes was cool and angry. “Do not test me,” he warned.

            “Is it not your theory that nothing shall happen?” She challenged him, stepping outside. “Let us see what does,” Jade wrapped a cape from the wall around her shoulders and walked out into the mob of drunken soldiers. As she suspected, it was not long before eyes were on her. Her gaze scanned over the crowd, and she could see some whispering. She need not hear what they say, for she knew what word their lips were uttering… witch.

            She could see the superstitious fear in the eyes of some, and in the eyes of those men who had more bravery… lust. Like Titus, thy desired to conquer her. She continued her walk, acutely aware of those around her. It was not long before she felt an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her onto one soldier’s lap. He was boisterous and light-haired, his breath reeked of ale.

            “What a pretty thing you are,” he laughed, holding her tight, so she could not get away. “How about a kiss?”

            “I would rather die?” She snarled.

            “Now, that’s not very friendly,” he growled, trying to kiss her. Jade slapped him, her nails scratching him across the face. He bellowed and held his hand to his face to nurse the deep scratches she had left in his cheek.

            “I would be careful with this one,” laughed Logan as he emerged from the crowd with a mug of ale in his hand, “this cat has claws.”

            “I have notice, Major,” the soldier snarled. “Perhaps I shall relieve her of them,” he said, grabbing her by the hand and pushing her hand down on the table. He withdrew his sword and placed it over Jade’s wrist. She pulled hard as she realized he meant to cut off her hand. He lifted his sword in preparation to deal the chopping blow when he suddenly halted. Jade’s eyes noticed the sword at his throat.

            “If you do not wish to lose your head. You will release my property,” Titus commanded.

            “You wish to match swords with me?” The soldier growled. “Over a w***e?” He snapped, spinning around he clashed his sword against Titus’. Titus stepped back, giving ground, but his sword flew up, clashing hard with that of the other soldier’s. The two fought, Titus moved quickly, with agility and precision. His skill was far superior to that of the other man. He disarmed the soldier, kicked him to his knees, and before the man had the chance to stand, he brought his sword down fast and hard on the man’s neck to deal the death blow.

            His blade stopped pressed against the back of the panting soldier’s neck. The man was defeated; there was no actual need to kill him. “We are too few in number. I would rather not kill a comrade in arms,” Titus said, pulling back his sword and allowing the humiliated soldier to rise. “But should you touch her once more, I will chop your head off,” he turned and pointed his sword at all the others as a warning to the men. “I will cut down any man that dares to poach my property,” he warned.

            Jade watched as not one man dared to stand against him. Titus was a leader. A skilled man of war. His very presence commanded the respect of his peers. He was a man meant for greatness. Titus then turned to face her with a flash of rage in his eyes. He charged Jade, and she felt a sense of panic. Titus bent low and lifted Jade over his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her legs. Her instinct was to fight him, but she thought it better not to.

            He carried her back to the house and kicked the door open. Titus carried Jade inside and tossed her on the bed. She scrambled back and looked up at him. His sword pointed at her. His eyes were flashing like a storm. “Do you enjoy provoking me?” Actually, she did, but that would not be wise to admit while his temper was inflamed. “You have made your point,” he snarled.

            Jade grinned. “So, you will take me with you?”

            “No,” he said, surprising her. “But I shall make arraignments for you. You shall not be left here alone,” he then left the room and slammed the door behind him.

***

            Sakwa poured over his maps of the Danagate Forest, trying his best to learn the land. He wished to know every stone, every leaf, if he and his men were to assume control. The Danagate Forest held the main road for trade and supply lines for the Empire. Most supply convoys and tax carriages passed through the forest to reach the palace of Kumun. It was really the quickest and safest route from any inland city or village the Emperor commanded. Otherwise, his people were forced to face the hardships of going over the mountain pass, a much more difficult and perilous journey, and one many wagons did not survive.

            If the rebellion could take the Danagate Forest and manage to keep it, it would be a great victory. They would cut off much of the supply lines to the Emperor’s palace and deal a great blow to their enemy. They had been fighting this war for too long. It had been a slow and arduous victory, but a victory nonetheless. The Emperor’s armies were dwindling while the rebellion’s numbers were growing. As the years dragged on and hardship grew, more and more joined the cause. It was but a matter of time; the Empire would fall.

            Walter, one of his most trusted men, came into the tent with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Sakwa and the others looked up from the maps they were learning and gave their attention to Walter. He was a man of some years nearing the fifties, Sakwa believed. He had once been a farmer until soldiers had sacked his village and murdered his family. He had been fighting at Sakwa’s side for near on seven years. His beard was grey, but his heart was brave and brave men were worth ten soldiers.

            “What is the matter?” Sakwa asked.

            “There was a man in the village, been asking where to find you,” Walter announced with a grave expression.

            “Plenty of men ask to locate us. They wish to join the rebellion,” Sakwa said. Rebel forces were scattered all over. Their overall locations were somewhat known. People were always trying to find them; it was not unusual.

            “No, Sir, he was specifically asking for Sakwa,” Walter clarified.

            Kyle spoke up. “He could be an assassin.” Kyle, like Sakwa, had once been a soldier and Sakwa’s enemy, but he had, in the face of battle, lost faith in his ruler. He had seen the plight of his people and the effects of the Emperor’s tyranny. He had, at that time, sworn allegiance to Sakwa and been fighting at his side ever since. They were much the same age, seasoned fighting men in their early forties. They were not men of youth, but they made up for it with skill and years of experience and wisdom in the field.

            “He is an ancient man,” Walter informed them. “Much my senior.”

            Curious looks passed between the men. What would a man like this be doing seeking out the leader of the rebellion? Sakwa gave an approving nod, and Walter held back the tent flap. He nodded to someone outside to bring forth the man seeking Sakwa. No one was willing to take any chances; all hands were at the ready, resting on the hilts of their swords in case they need to act.

            Through the entrance came a withered hunched over decrepit old man. His long white beard and hair told his advanced age. The man might very well have been a hundred years old. His face was wrinkled, and he walked with a tall staff, and his eyes were strange. “What business do you have with Sakwa?” Kyle demanded, stepping forward.

            “Be you him?” The old man asked.

            “Speak your business, old man,” another of his men demanded.

            “Be any of you him?” The old man asked again. “Or does the infamous rebel leader cower from an elderly man?” He mocked.

            Walter stepped forward in his defence. “Hold your tongue, old man.”

            Sakwa held up his hand to silence his man. He stepped forward to address his ancient visitor. “I cower from no man,” he said, standing tall. “I am Sakwa.”

            The old man looked him up and down as if scrutinizing him. Trying to decide if he believed he was who he claimed to be and not just an assassin decoy. “I have come to join your forces,” he said outright.

            Laughter broke out among the men, and even Sakwa could not hide his amusement. What use could he have for this man? He appeared as though a strong wind would topple him effortlessly. “You have a stout heart old man, but I have no use for a man of your age,” he tried to explain politely.

            “Very well,” the old man smiled. Suddenly his unusual amber eyes began to glow brightly like brilliant flames. He stood up straight and grew a foot taller. His body filled out broad with muscle, and his white hair and beard receded, vanishing to a clean-shaven jaw and locks of raven hair. A young, strong man stood in the old man’s place with his staff in hand. “Perhaps this is more to your liking.”

            The men drew their swords, and the young intruder lifted his staff in self-defence. Sakwa lifted his hand once more to stop the fight before it began. “What magic is this?” He asked, keeping his distance. “Are you an assassin?”

            “If I were, you would be dead by now,” the man promised. Sakwa believed him. With such a power, this man could have easily gotten close to Sakwa without anyone noticing and have killed him many times over.

            Sakwa gestured for his men to lower their weapons. “What do you want with me?”

            The man lowered his staff. “What I have already stated. I have come to join your forces. My name is Miya; I am what your kind call a shifter.”

            Sakwa would not have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. He, like everyone, had heard the wives’ tales, but they had always been only stories. To see one in person it was surreal. There had been talk that the Emperor possessed one, but he had thought it a foolish rumour. “I had heard the Emperor had captured one of your kind, but I had thought it a story,” Sakwa said, coming closer to inspect the young man.

            “Your Emperor captured nothing. It was a sea Captain who got lucky. It does not happen often,” Miya snarled.

            “He is not our Emperor,” Sakwa corrected. He had not been his Emperor since they had chosen life as rebels. “The man is a tyrant and must be stopped.” 

            “On that, we agree,” Miya said.

            “What I do not understand is where your people have been all this time? Why join us now?” He asked, suspicious of the man’s motives.

            “Until now, your world has not affected ours. Your war has not been ours,” Miya said frankly. “But as the years went on, the soldiers have pushed farther and farther into our lands, destroying our homes and scattering our people. Even then, we thought it best to keep to the shadows and stay hidden in myths and legend, but we have been exposed, and we have no further places to run to. Your war has spilled over into our world, and it is but a matter of time before the dastardly Emperor decides to hunt down the last of my people and enslave us. I escaped, and at this moment, my sister is still trapped behind those palace walls. The time for hiding in the shadows has passed; it is time to choose a side. I have chosen to fight with you,” Miya said.

            Sakwa smiled. He felt as if God had handed him a grand gift, a fighter that could be anyone or anything at will. He could act as a spy. He could sneak passed guards. He could only imagine what the man must be like in battle. He could likely take on a number of soldiers with ease. Miya was definitely worth having at his side. Sakwa held out his hand in friendship. “Welcome to the rebellion.”

***

            Miya crouched on the ridge overlooking the rebel camp. The moon was full and bright, casting a light over the camp despite the burning torches. He had spent days searching for this camp and all afternoon getting to know Sakwa and his closest men. They seemed nice enough, but Miya had trouble trusting anyone outside his own people. Jade was asking a lot for him to fight alongside these men.

            Miya looked up at the stars; he still felt awful for having left Jade behind. God only knew what that savage brute would do to her while Miya was gone. What indignities she would suffer. He should have forced her to go with him. Sure, it might have slowed him down, but at least he would have known she was safe. Right now, the guilt was eating him alive.

            He watched as Sakwa mounted the hill coming in his direction. Miya rose slowly to his feet as the rebel leader joined him at the top of the ridge. “You are a man of solitude,” he observed, coming to stand by Miya’s side and looking out over the camp. “I cannot blame you. I do the same quite often. I am a man who likes to be alone with my thoughts. You look as though something weighs heavy on your mind.”

            “It is my sister,” Miya admitted. “She is a slave behind the city walls. To the very man that captured us. I worry about her.”

            “Can she not do what you do?” Sakwa asked, trying to understand his burden.

            “She has been stripped of her power. She is virtually helpless.”

            “And you feel guilty for having left her behind,” Sakwa guessed.

            This man was wise. “She would have slowed my escape,” he said coldly.

            “I sense there is more to it than that,” Sakwa said, walking over to a large rock and sitting down.

            He did not wish to speak to the dynamics of his relationship with his sister. It was no outsider’s business and the less they knew, they safer it would be. He trusted no one. “It is complicated,” he simply said, kicking the dirt and looking up at the night sky.

            “My informants tell me that the city had been locked down for days. The Emperor believes there to be a spy within his palace because of your miraculous escape from his dungeon. He is reported to be obsessed with hunting the traitor down and executing them,” Sakwa informed Miya.

            Miya felt a sense of dread fill him. The man would not kill his own daughter, would he? Was it possible that they would discover the Princess had been responsible for his escape? Or would her station hold her above suspicion? Gaia’s pretty face flashed in his memory, her smile and the way her lips had tasted the night he had kissed her good-bye.

            Miya could picture his angel as clear as day bathed in the soft glow of the torchlight, slipping him food through the bars. She had been so sweet, so kind; he could not allow her kindness to result in her demise. She did not deserve to face the gallows because she succumbed to his seduction.

            “I see great concern in your eyes,” Sakwa observed. “Is that because your sister released you, and you fear for her?” He asked, studying Miya. Miya said nothing. He did not wish to expose Gaia, who knew if the Emperor had spies within the rebellion. “No, you fear for someone else. There is another.” Sakwa was a wise man.

            “You are a man of great insight,” Miya said, impressed by how much the leader could learn from a man who said nothing.          

            Sakwa smirked and shook his head. “We all, in some way, fight for loved ones lost,” he said.

            Miya came and sat on the large rock; his long legs stretched out before him. “And who have you lost, old man?”                                                                                          

            “The Emperor took from me my whole world. I was a lowly soldier in the service of the Empire — a great path for the son of a farmer. I was a Corporal at the time, and I had eyes for the daughter of the Grand Duke of Hews. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. At that time, though, the nobility and fighting men did not mingle. Soldiers were considered beneath the social acceptance, but God bless her heart; she loved me in return,” Sakwa said with a smile as he recalled the memory of his lost love. “We would have run off together. She would have lived in poverty with me, but the Emperor had seen her too. He demanded her hand. He threatened to execute her entire family should she refuse him. He stole my love and exiled me to the outlands to die,” he said bitterly. “I spent a few years fighting to survive and finding my way back. I had seen firsthand his tyranny and vowed to make his life as difficult as possible. As I went, more joined me, and soon the brave Emperor in the safety of his palace declared war on us. We have been fighting him ever since.”

            Miya could not believe what he heard. Was it possible all this death and devastation was over a woman? Thirteen years of war, homes destroyed, families slaughtered, men laying down their lives, people facing slavery… all because the Emperor coveted another man’s lover? “This is all over a woman?” Miya asked.

            “I did not start this war. The Emperor did. I merely took a stand against a tyrant and said no more. I cannot help if others found the cause worth fighting for,” Sakwa said, patting Miya on the shoulder. “We all fight for our own reasons. Just ask yourself before you step out on the battlefield; are you prepared to die for them?”

            Was he prepared to die for Jade? For the security of his people? Without question. Miya would stare down one million soldiers to defend his beloved sister and the fate of his people. “I am,” he assured the rebel leader. “Just be sure your men are ready to fight at my side. I do not wish to have to watch them as well as my enemies,” he knew the men feared him, as they should. They saw him as a warlock or a demon.

            “I believe once they see you in battle fighting at their side, they will come to accept you. You must understand, you have a power they do not comprehend. Men fear things they do not understand,” Sakwa rose to his feet. “Come, Miya, drink with us and make merry. Tomorrow we attack Fort York.”

            “You have never before been known to attack a fort,” Miya said, wondering what this man had planned.

            “Never before did we have a man that could walk right passed the front gates and let us in.”