For International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day
Late as usual, but here it is, a story from my Under the Green Moon setting.
It was Spring, the Arch was bright in the sky, and the moon was full and green. To the scattered Veridian tribes of the north, this meant it was time to come together again, and raid southwards, in search of cities to conquer, and wealth to plunder. From his observation point in the hills, Galaqei, Lord General of the Great Northern Veridian legion, gazed across the river plain at the walled city of West Shield. Behind him was his Legion, 10,000 warriors: heavy cavalry, skirmishers, and sorcerers, all astride terror birds.
“A ripe fruit, waiting to be plucked,” he said decisively. In truth, he couldn’t tell, or even care if it was ripe to be plucked or not, long ago he had decided that when the histories of his conquests were written, he should have a phrase he would be known by. After a minimum of thought, he had settled on one, and had used that phrase before taking all of the cities he had encountered. His lieutenants accepted that as a minor quirk- the important thing was he had been very successful so far in conquering a string of soft, overly-civilized outposts, towns, and even cities, while confounding the occasional expeditionary forces the southern empires sent in retaliation.
This time though, First Lieutenant coughed. “I find myself unsure, Great Master.”
This wasn’t the proper response at all.
“Explain,” Galaqei growled. “Have they rejected our emissary?”
First Lieutenant paused, looking oddly uncomfortable, before saying, “No, Great Master. They didn’t surrender or resist, but merely said we should come in and talk to their goddess.”
”Are they so insane with fear that they call upon their gods? Or are they merely stalling for time?”
“No, Great Master, they seem to simply want you to talk to their goddess.”
“I will not pray to any of their false gods. Surely they know we’ll simply burn their city instead,” Galaqei stated, matter-of-factly.
“Great Master, I don’t think that they meant that-- they definitely said, talk to her, as if she was a person.” His first lieutenant hesitated, before continuing. “There’s something about this city- some of the scouts think it may be an Old Humanity enclave instead of a town.”
Galaqei frowned at the name. Legends were told of reclusive Old Humanity and the places they had retreated to. There were even heretical rumors that said they, not the gods of the Moving Stars, were the actual creators of the young races, even the Veridian stock Galaqei was from. He eyed the city again- indeed there was something strange about this small city, tucked in a fold of the mountains far away from the civilized areas of the Ashurvalan Empire. It hardly looked like a difficult task to conquer it; granted both the city and the fields were surrounded by a wall of stone that stretched back into the canyon, a wall 5 times as tall as a man, made of massive stones so ancient that all their sharp edges had been worn away. The city itself nestled inside its walls like a river snail. It had, if anything, a quiet, private air to it. And that was one thing that was wrong, right there. Where were the alarms, the shouting, the stirring of panicked movement about the walls and the city, and the stream of cowards fleeing the oncoming attack? The city gate was even open! Surely they had to have seen his Legion, ten thousand strong warriors on horses and terror birds? They had to be blind, insane, or-his eyes narrowed in suspicion- planning some form of trap. He hated cities that put up resistance. The ensuing siege followed by rapine and plunder, while entertaining was not nearly so profitable as a properly cowed and dutiful city.
He considered for a moment what kind of trap soft-bodied, decadent city dwellers might come up with, then shrugged. It was no real decision at all. His father, before the battle that claimed his life, had told him, “A Legion is a beast that one rides, yet it’s always looking for one sign of weakness. Never turn back, or it will eat you.” Galaquei laughed then, for the benefit of all of his lieutenants, not to mention any other soldiers listening. “So it’s a city of Old Humanity. Are we not Veridian, blessed by the ancient ones with the endurance to conquer and prevail? Is our skin not green as a sign of the approval of the creators?” He felt, rather than saw his men relax, and continued, gesturing them forward. “Well then, let’s see what this “enclave” has to offer. And if they task us, well, brothers, we’ll leave it in flames!”
As they approached, the city offered no defense nor even seemed to acknowledge their presence. Instead of guards, an old, bald man, the color of river clay, of the Old Human race, awaited them at the gate, in a clean but plain robe, over trousers. He smiled and bowed. “Greetings. honored guests. The goddess is waiting to meet you.”
“Is she, now.” Galaqei restrained an impulse to kill the man where he stood, as a first example. Instead, he demanded, “And who are you?”
The tall brown man bowed again. “I am Alekkis, the Master Gatekeeper.”
“Well, I say now you are the Gate Slave,” retorted Galaquei. He raised his voice so that anyone listening could hear him. “You are now my property, as is every man, woman, and child here, and I will deal with you all as I see fit. If there is any resistance, I will make an example of this town.”
The man merely nodded. “As you wish, sir. Would you care to see the Goddess now, or rest first?”
Galaqei gave a contemptuous snort while watching the gatekeeper for his reaction. “I shall see your goddess. Maybe she will understand what I say. If not, she shall see my sword.” Frustratingly, the man merely nodded, and with a gesture to follow, turned up the pathway. Galaqei was left to wonder if the city would give up without even negotiating.
The city was quiet within, and the sound of the hooves and talons of the men’s mounts echoed off the pale stone walls of the dwellings. The buildings were neatly kept, the streets cleanly swept, but here, as in outside, the edges were blunted, rounded from ages of use. There were few people of the various colors of old humanity in the street, and they merely watched his men pass by with an indifference that was insulting. He searched the bystanders faces, and saw mild curiosity; not fear, not anger. They must be ignorant, he thought. Or drugged?! Still, he found himself watching the entrances to alleyways and inner courtyards with an unaccustomed anxiety. This was ridiculous. He and his men were armored in fine chitin, with ceramic breastplates, and beyond that, they were the best fighters on Earth. There was nothing to fear, he told himself fiercely. And yet, behind him he started hearing low, nervous muttering among the men. Something had to be done, before the Beast turned.
With forced cheer, he asked First Lieutenant, “Do you remember that time when Sweetriver thought to draw us all in and then ambush us?”
“Yes, Great Master,” First Lieutenant replied. “As I recall, it didn’t work out so well for them.”
Galaqei grinned in remembrance. “Yes, they paid for that with their city. And do you remember that place that had the large crystal of the Ancients, which cast down fire upon us?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his officers taking note, and he raised his voice. “Many died that day, including my father. But we prevail, and that city is nothing more than an ash heap!” His voice rang out over his troops, and he heard a general sigh of anticipation passing through his men like a wave, as they relaxed into a more usual awareness. Privately, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. A burnt out husk of a city was worth nothng.
A thought occurred to Galaquei, which made temporary sense of the situation. “I know what this is!” he crowed, “They intend to overawe us! Like that city where they had the two girls dressed up as the voice of their god. And THAT didn’t prevent us from making those girls and the town our playthings!” The put an arrogant swagger into his voice. “And remember the city where they had a great crystal that spat fire?” My father died there, but that entire city is his funeral mound.” No doubt they intended to overawe the “barbarians” with some ritual mumbo jumbo, or even publicly put the decision to their gods so they wouldn’t lose face in surrendering their city. His sense were still alert for a trap, but the sense of unease was gone, replaced by a certainty that this was merely more of the soft game of politics that city dwellers liked to engage in.
He made a quick series of hand gestures, to his lieutenants, and at the signal, the Legion began breaking up into smaller units, going down side streets, until he was alone with a hundred of his men, and the others had begun dispersing through the city. Not undisciplined raiders, his men. He had spent much time teaching them harsh discipline as well as the arts of warfare, until they were more than a match for any Empire’s decadent troops. They would spread out through the city, and though their hands would be close to spear and sword, they would spill not a drop of blood, touch none of the wealth spread out before him, until he- or his successor- gave the order.
The temple was in the center of the city, large rather than imposing. It perhaps had started as a squat cylinder with a dome on top, but over the ages it had accreted an endless assortment of annexes, balconies, towers colonnades and galleries that the original form was almost lost.
“This is the home of the city goddess. This acolyte will see you to her.” The young woman looked at them and gulped. As a test, Galaqei made a quick move with his hand, and she jumped. Galaqei grinned. At last someone was afraid, or at least nervous. She seemed to have no wealth or power of her own, so her quickly dismissed her as unimportant. He dismounted, and his lieutenants followed.
“Um, s-she just wants to talk to you first.” The woman gulped. “The leader. Honorable leader sir.”
Galaqei glanced at his lieutenant. “Give them to the count of ten thousand.” He said with deliberate casualness. “If I’m not back by…” He checked the sky” “The time Earth’s shadow reaches three handbreadths on the Great Arch, raze the city.” He gave the woman his fiercest smile, more for the benefit of anyone watching, than her. “And also, if I come back with some silly notion like leaving this city alone…raze this city.” The woman gulped again. “This way, sir.
The woman led him inside through a gallery that was built on a huge scale, but surprisingly plain. On either side columns masked galleries and stairs that lead to the unknown depths of the place. He supposed was intended to look impressive., but he had been in places that were gilded with valuable and rare metals, with the names and statues of heathen gods and goddesses writ large. In comparison, this place looked somewhat drab and utilitarian. He frowned, wondering if the city was poorer than it first appeared. The woman led him to a gallery along the side, and up a stairway. Through hallways, ramps and stairs he ascended what he assumed was the outside wall of the temple- despite himself, as he felt the increasing distance between himself and his men, he felt his shoulders tensing, ready for some assault or magic, and his hand rested on his ceramic sword.
Instead, the acolyte lead him to a short hallway, blocked off at the end by a curtain. She bowed, and gestured. “This way sir, she’s waiting for you.” He advanced, and she flinched away. Unsure of what to expect, he swept the curtain away with one hand, while behind him he heard the scuttling of swift footsteps away.. Outside was a balcony, overlooking the city, the gates, and the river. Above everything, the great Arch dominated the sky, with the shadow of Earth indicating it was late afternoon. Despite himself he had to admit that this was a fair place to meet a goddess. The Goddess on the other hand….
“Good afternoon,” the Goddess said politely.” Please have a seat.”
She was tall, and pure old race human as far as he could tell. Attractive, dignified and calm, but nothing special. He had seen courtesans and desperate noblewoman who were far more beautiful, or exotic. She was dressed casually in a robe of green that reached down to her feet, and was seated at a table of fine filigreed ceramic that had a teapot, cups, and a plate of pastries. With a slight sense of dismay he realized the table was more elaborate than her dress, and she had none of the jewels and precious metals that should adorn a city ruler that was worthy of ravishing. And yet, her gaze met his unflinchingly, and her pose spoke of authority without bluster.
“Please come sit. You must be tired after your journey. Would you like some tea?”
He considered what to do for a moment, bewildered. He had expected rituals, chanting, ornate thrones and lavish boudoirs…possibly even a seduction, accompanied by rich gifts. Nothing so prosaic. He wasn’t even sure if he should feel insulted or not. He felt his jaw working as a range of possibilities crossed his mind. Knock over the table and take her in front of whatever hidden eyes were watching? Kill her and call his men to kill every one in the temple? Demand the tribute that was his due?
Instead, he crossed the balcony, and sat at the table, glaring at her. He found she met his gaze easily, which discomfited him even more. Could she be some female warrior or assassin like he had heard other tribes or the decadent empires had? After a moment though, aware he was losing the contest of authority, he found his voice.
“You, I suppose, are the goddess of the city. Or are you just her priestess?”
She winced slightly. “I hate that term. It’s really a bit of a corruption of terminology.” Her eyes took a memntary distant look as she said “Really, the closest approximation in modern terms would be ‘City Guardian’”.
He considered her warily. “And I suppose you are going to guard the city from me?” His gesture included the table “Are you going to make war with tea and food?” She shrugged and poured tea..
“Honestly, we won’t make war with anyone. We don’t fight, and we don’t take part in the affairs of the world.
The tea didn’t smell poisoned. He remarked casually “I remember one town where they feasted us and toasted us with their best wines- wines they had drugged. I woke up in their slave pens, and it took me more than six months to escape and rejoin the legion. We razed the city, and drowned all their children in their own wine, of course.” The statement was intended to test her, to see how she would react, but the woman only smiled politely, as if he had made a polite witticism.
“It’s perfectly fine. We import it from the southern peninsula of the Ashuravalan subcontinent.”
He shrugged and downed the cup. “Remember, if anything happens to me, my men will leave nothing but rubble in this city.” He said this bluntly, again hoping for some reaction.
The woman nodded calmly. “You have my word that you will be unharmed as long as you are in this city.”
Suddenly annoyed, he set the teacup down hard, but it refused to break. “Enough talk. You’ve heard our reasonable demands, and instead of honorable capitulation, you try to distract me with tea and platitudes. But this will not change things in the slightest. You will acknowledge me as your master, and give one eighth your wealth yearly to the Northern Legion, as well as any treasures of slaves that my brothers see today. In return we will let you live.” He nodded in a mockery of her manners. “:That is quite reasonable, yes? And if you wish to have some ritual marriage to ensure the bargain, well that will cost you dearly in treasure” He waited to see if she chose to live or die, or would cowardly try to bargain.
“I’m sorry” she said with what he could tell was feigned sorrow . “We really would join your organization, but I’m afraid we have a prior agreement with the Ashurvalen Empire. They agree to give us autonomy, and in return, we agree to not ally with any of their enemies.” She made an apologetic turn of her head. “So you see, we really can’t join yu right now. Maybe sometime after the Ashurvalen Empire ceases to-“
He flung the tea away and stood up, loonming over the woman, who annoyingly, refused to react. “Do you doubt my army? Do you scoff at their fierceness or their ability? Do you doubt we could slaughter everyone here now that you” he smiled dramatically “have invited us in the heart of your city?”
Still not a flicker of the reaction he wanted; no fear, no anger. She was maintained that infuriating calm.
“Oh no” she said in what was supposed to be a soothing tone “They are certainly the most terrifying force to have come out here in the last few thousand years. Truly, they are impressive. But that’s really besides the point. We won’t fight, and we can’t give you what you want. But as it’s your first visit,” she continued helpfully ”He won’t charge for accommodations.” He fund himself trembling in rage, though she seemed oblivious to her insult.
“Shut up! YOU. Will surrender or die now!”
She artfully tilted her head, pretending to consider “Neither, I’m afraid.”
A distant part of his mind was shouting that this was the trigger of the trap, but he didn’t care. He swept out his sword and-
*Blink*
“Look down” she said
-swept way the table and was lunging toward her and-
“LOOK DOWN”
He glanced down, and froze with a sudden rush of vertigo, choking back a scream like a child. The balcony was gone, leaving only nothing, air and nothing down, down to where the city and the entire river basin was spread out below him, so high he couldn’t make out people. Dazedly he realized he was looking down at the tops of the mountains to the south, the ones he had been contemplating scaling after taking Westshield.. His stomach gave a flip, and abruptly he felt cold sweat, cooling in a sudden chill wind.
“A…trick. An illusion. Witch, I’ll kill you!” He croaked desperately trying to save some illusion of manhood, and tried to move forward. But it was if the air itself had turned solid.
I’m afraid not.” she said, with a note of sympathy in her voice. The table and chairs had disappeared, and she appeared to be sitting on thin air. “I did try to avoid this, but you really left me no choice. I’ve expelled your “Legion” from my vicinity.” She stood, and walked away from him, her robe flapping in the chill thin air. “They’re none the worse for wear, about a days travel to the east.” He felt his sweat turn solid.
What do you want? Wealth? Me as a hostage? It- it wont work” He flushed at the thin note of terror in his voice.
“You’ve come into Westshield, and made demands, and threatened. Now it’s my turn.” Her face was severe and remote, and he suddenly wondered how he could ever have thought her human.
“There will be no invasion, there will be no war with my city. You and your men are banned from this city, for the next hundred years. If your tribes people wish to trade with us they may, but from now on, they will have to leave their weapons outside. We will make arrangements to store them safely. Do you understand?”
With difficulty he found his voice. “You don’t scare me. We will have revenge for this slight.” If he was going to die he decided, he would die a man of the North, not some squealing Imperial!
She sighed. “I don’t care if you’re scared or not. Just stay away. And for now, just go.”
Abruptly Galaqei was falling, and involuntarily he let out a scream. Then an imact, that took his breath away, and he was flailing through water, ice cold from the mountains. His head broke surface, and for a moment it was all he could do to breath. After a what seemed ages his feet scraped bottom, and after a couple tries, he managed to stand up and look around. His entire legion was spread out on the shore of the river, dripping wet, dazedly hunting down their mounts or simply sitting on the shore in shock. In the distance, were the mountains, with a vague dip in them that might indicate the location of a valley containing a city he would never conquer. He splashed his way to shore, and stood up, intensely aware that all the eyes of his lieutenants, their captains, everyone down to the lowliest archer had shifted their gaze to him. Waiting to see what would happen, what could happen now that he had been so thoroughly humiliated. Waiting without a word, the Beast turned twenty-thousand eyes on him..
Back in the city, the City Goddess Westshield sighed and closed her eyes. She heard soft footsteps behind her.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” The voice was of the woman who insisted on calling herself Westshield’s acolyte.
Westfield nodded, rubbing her temples. She wasn’t quite sure what a headache was, but if she ever had one she decided, she would name it Galaqei
“Oh yes. I’m fine thank you. That just took a lot of power.” She slumped back in her chair, and sighed again.
“What an annoying man he was. I’m going to my library to find a good book for a year or two. Don’t wake me unless the people of the Ring decide to attack us.”
The city of Westshield retreated into the corridors of her mind, while outside, the woman elected as her acolyte began cleaning up the spilled remains of her tea.
Galaqei stared at the Beast, and it stared back.
Really, there was only one thing he could do.
He faced the distant city, threw back his head, and bellowed a laugh that he was sure was loud enough even for that goddess back on her tower to hear him. He laughed long and hard, and then turned back to his bewildered kin. “How about that my brothers!” he shouted gleefully. “What a ride!” He bellowed laughter that was a challenge to the Beast.
“A genuine living goddess, and all she could do was throw us out!”
It was Spring, the Arch was bright in the sky, and the moon was full and green. To the scattered Veridian tribes of the north, this meant it was time to come together again, and raid southwards, in search of cities to conquer, and wealth to plunder. From his observation point in the hills, Galaqei, Lord General of the Great Northern Veridian legion, gazed across the river plain at the walled city of West Shield. Behind him was his Legion, 10,000 warriors: heavy cavalry, skirmishers, and sorcerers, all astride terror birds.
“A ripe fruit, waiting to be plucked,” he said decisively. In truth, he couldn’t tell, or even care if it was ripe to be plucked or not, long ago he had decided that when the histories of his conquests were written, he should have a phrase he would be known by. After a minimum of thought, he had settled on one, and had used that phrase before taking all of the cities he had encountered. His lieutenants accepted that as a minor quirk- the important thing was he had been very successful so far in conquering a string of soft, overly-civilized outposts, towns, and even cities, while confounding the occasional expeditionary forces the southern empires sent in retaliation.
This time though, First Lieutenant coughed. “I find myself unsure, Great Master.”
This wasn’t the proper response at all.
“Explain,” Galaqei growled. “Have they rejected our emissary?”
First Lieutenant paused, looking oddly uncomfortable, before saying, “No, Great Master. They didn’t surrender or resist, but merely said we should come in and talk to their goddess.”
”Are they so insane with fear that they call upon their gods? Or are they merely stalling for time?”
“No, Great Master, they seem to simply want you to talk to their goddess.”
“I will not pray to any of their false gods. Surely they know we’ll simply burn their city instead,” Galaqei stated, matter-of-factly.
“Great Master, I don’t think that they meant that-- they definitely said, talk to her, as if she was a person.” His first lieutenant hesitated, before continuing. “There’s something about this city- some of the scouts think it may be an Old Humanity enclave instead of a town.”
Galaqei frowned at the name. Legends were told of reclusive Old Humanity and the places they had retreated to. There were even heretical rumors that said they, not the gods of the Moving Stars, were the actual creators of the young races, even the Veridian stock Galaqei was from. He eyed the city again- indeed there was something strange about this small city, tucked in a fold of the mountains far away from the civilized areas of the Ashurvalan Empire. It hardly looked like a difficult task to conquer it; granted both the city and the fields were surrounded by a wall of stone that stretched back into the canyon, a wall 5 times as tall as a man, made of massive stones so ancient that all their sharp edges had been worn away. The city itself nestled inside its walls like a river snail. It had, if anything, a quiet, private air to it. And that was one thing that was wrong, right there. Where were the alarms, the shouting, the stirring of panicked movement about the walls and the city, and the stream of cowards fleeing the oncoming attack? The city gate was even open! Surely they had to have seen his Legion, ten thousand strong warriors on horses and terror birds? They had to be blind, insane, or-his eyes narrowed in suspicion- planning some form of trap. He hated cities that put up resistance. The ensuing siege followed by rapine and plunder, while entertaining was not nearly so profitable as a properly cowed and dutiful city.
He considered for a moment what kind of trap soft-bodied, decadent city dwellers might come up with, then shrugged. It was no real decision at all. His father, before the battle that claimed his life, had told him, “A Legion is a beast that one rides, yet it’s always looking for one sign of weakness. Never turn back, or it will eat you.” Galaquei laughed then, for the benefit of all of his lieutenants, not to mention any other soldiers listening. “So it’s a city of Old Humanity. Are we not Veridian, blessed by the ancient ones with the endurance to conquer and prevail? Is our skin not green as a sign of the approval of the creators?” He felt, rather than saw his men relax, and continued, gesturing them forward. “Well then, let’s see what this “enclave” has to offer. And if they task us, well, brothers, we’ll leave it in flames!”
As they approached, the city offered no defense nor even seemed to acknowledge their presence. Instead of guards, an old, bald man, the color of river clay, of the Old Human race, awaited them at the gate, in a clean but plain robe, over trousers. He smiled and bowed. “Greetings. honored guests. The goddess is waiting to meet you.”
“Is she, now.” Galaqei restrained an impulse to kill the man where he stood, as a first example. Instead, he demanded, “And who are you?”
The tall brown man bowed again. “I am Alekkis, the Master Gatekeeper.”
“Well, I say now you are the Gate Slave,” retorted Galaquei. He raised his voice so that anyone listening could hear him. “You are now my property, as is every man, woman, and child here, and I will deal with you all as I see fit. If there is any resistance, I will make an example of this town.”
The man merely nodded. “As you wish, sir. Would you care to see the Goddess now, or rest first?”
Galaqei gave a contemptuous snort while watching the gatekeeper for his reaction. “I shall see your goddess. Maybe she will understand what I say. If not, she shall see my sword.” Frustratingly, the man merely nodded, and with a gesture to follow, turned up the pathway. Galaqei was left to wonder if the city would give up without even negotiating.
The city was quiet within, and the sound of the hooves and talons of the men’s mounts echoed off the pale stone walls of the dwellings. The buildings were neatly kept, the streets cleanly swept, but here, as in outside, the edges were blunted, rounded from ages of use. There were few people of the various colors of old humanity in the street, and they merely watched his men pass by with an indifference that was insulting. He searched the bystanders faces, and saw mild curiosity; not fear, not anger. They must be ignorant, he thought. Or drugged?! Still, he found himself watching the entrances to alleyways and inner courtyards with an unaccustomed anxiety. This was ridiculous. He and his men were armored in fine chitin, with ceramic breastplates, and beyond that, they were the best fighters on Earth. There was nothing to fear, he told himself fiercely. And yet, behind him he started hearing low, nervous muttering among the men. Something had to be done, before the Beast turned.
With forced cheer, he asked First Lieutenant, “Do you remember that time when Sweetriver thought to draw us all in and then ambush us?”
“Yes, Great Master,” First Lieutenant replied. “As I recall, it didn’t work out so well for them.”
Galaqei grinned in remembrance. “Yes, they paid for that with their city. And do you remember that place that had the large crystal of the Ancients, which cast down fire upon us?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his officers taking note, and he raised his voice. “Many died that day, including my father. But we prevail, and that city is nothing more than an ash heap!” His voice rang out over his troops, and he heard a general sigh of anticipation passing through his men like a wave, as they relaxed into a more usual awareness. Privately, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. A burnt out husk of a city was worth nothng.
A thought occurred to Galaquei, which made temporary sense of the situation. “I know what this is!” he crowed, “They intend to overawe us! Like that city where they had the two girls dressed up as the voice of their god. And THAT didn’t prevent us from making those girls and the town our playthings!” The put an arrogant swagger into his voice. “And remember the city where they had a great crystal that spat fire?” My father died there, but that entire city is his funeral mound.” No doubt they intended to overawe the “barbarians” with some ritual mumbo jumbo, or even publicly put the decision to their gods so they wouldn’t lose face in surrendering their city. His sense were still alert for a trap, but the sense of unease was gone, replaced by a certainty that this was merely more of the soft game of politics that city dwellers liked to engage in.
He made a quick series of hand gestures, to his lieutenants, and at the signal, the Legion began breaking up into smaller units, going down side streets, until he was alone with a hundred of his men, and the others had begun dispersing through the city. Not undisciplined raiders, his men. He had spent much time teaching them harsh discipline as well as the arts of warfare, until they were more than a match for any Empire’s decadent troops. They would spread out through the city, and though their hands would be close to spear and sword, they would spill not a drop of blood, touch none of the wealth spread out before him, until he- or his successor- gave the order.
The temple was in the center of the city, large rather than imposing. It perhaps had started as a squat cylinder with a dome on top, but over the ages it had accreted an endless assortment of annexes, balconies, towers colonnades and galleries that the original form was almost lost.
“This is the home of the city goddess. This acolyte will see you to her.” The young woman looked at them and gulped. As a test, Galaqei made a quick move with his hand, and she jumped. Galaqei grinned. At last someone was afraid, or at least nervous. She seemed to have no wealth or power of her own, so her quickly dismissed her as unimportant. He dismounted, and his lieutenants followed.
“Um, s-she just wants to talk to you first.” The woman gulped. “The leader. Honorable leader sir.”
Galaqei glanced at his lieutenant. “Give them to the count of ten thousand.” He said with deliberate casualness. “If I’m not back by…” He checked the sky” “The time Earth’s shadow reaches three handbreadths on the Great Arch, raze the city.” He gave the woman his fiercest smile, more for the benefit of anyone watching, than her. “And also, if I come back with some silly notion like leaving this city alone…raze this city.” The woman gulped again. “This way, sir.
The woman led him inside through a gallery that was built on a huge scale, but surprisingly plain. On either side columns masked galleries and stairs that lead to the unknown depths of the place. He supposed was intended to look impressive., but he had been in places that were gilded with valuable and rare metals, with the names and statues of heathen gods and goddesses writ large. In comparison, this place looked somewhat drab and utilitarian. He frowned, wondering if the city was poorer than it first appeared. The woman led him to a gallery along the side, and up a stairway. Through hallways, ramps and stairs he ascended what he assumed was the outside wall of the temple- despite himself, as he felt the increasing distance between himself and his men, he felt his shoulders tensing, ready for some assault or magic, and his hand rested on his ceramic sword.
Instead, the acolyte lead him to a short hallway, blocked off at the end by a curtain. She bowed, and gestured. “This way sir, she’s waiting for you.” He advanced, and she flinched away. Unsure of what to expect, he swept the curtain away with one hand, while behind him he heard the scuttling of swift footsteps away.. Outside was a balcony, overlooking the city, the gates, and the river. Above everything, the great Arch dominated the sky, with the shadow of Earth indicating it was late afternoon. Despite himself he had to admit that this was a fair place to meet a goddess. The Goddess on the other hand….
“Good afternoon,” the Goddess said politely.” Please have a seat.”
She was tall, and pure old race human as far as he could tell. Attractive, dignified and calm, but nothing special. He had seen courtesans and desperate noblewoman who were far more beautiful, or exotic. She was dressed casually in a robe of green that reached down to her feet, and was seated at a table of fine filigreed ceramic that had a teapot, cups, and a plate of pastries. With a slight sense of dismay he realized the table was more elaborate than her dress, and she had none of the jewels and precious metals that should adorn a city ruler that was worthy of ravishing. And yet, her gaze met his unflinchingly, and her pose spoke of authority without bluster.
“Please come sit. You must be tired after your journey. Would you like some tea?”
He considered what to do for a moment, bewildered. He had expected rituals, chanting, ornate thrones and lavish boudoirs…possibly even a seduction, accompanied by rich gifts. Nothing so prosaic. He wasn’t even sure if he should feel insulted or not. He felt his jaw working as a range of possibilities crossed his mind. Knock over the table and take her in front of whatever hidden eyes were watching? Kill her and call his men to kill every one in the temple? Demand the tribute that was his due?
Instead, he crossed the balcony, and sat at the table, glaring at her. He found she met his gaze easily, which discomfited him even more. Could she be some female warrior or assassin like he had heard other tribes or the decadent empires had? After a moment though, aware he was losing the contest of authority, he found his voice.
“You, I suppose, are the goddess of the city. Or are you just her priestess?”
She winced slightly. “I hate that term. It’s really a bit of a corruption of terminology.” Her eyes took a memntary distant look as she said “Really, the closest approximation in modern terms would be ‘City Guardian’”.
He considered her warily. “And I suppose you are going to guard the city from me?” His gesture included the table “Are you going to make war with tea and food?” She shrugged and poured tea..
“Honestly, we won’t make war with anyone. We don’t fight, and we don’t take part in the affairs of the world.
The tea didn’t smell poisoned. He remarked casually “I remember one town where they feasted us and toasted us with their best wines- wines they had drugged. I woke up in their slave pens, and it took me more than six months to escape and rejoin the legion. We razed the city, and drowned all their children in their own wine, of course.” The statement was intended to test her, to see how she would react, but the woman only smiled politely, as if he had made a polite witticism.
“It’s perfectly fine. We import it from the southern peninsula of the Ashuravalan subcontinent.”
He shrugged and downed the cup. “Remember, if anything happens to me, my men will leave nothing but rubble in this city.” He said this bluntly, again hoping for some reaction.
The woman nodded calmly. “You have my word that you will be unharmed as long as you are in this city.”
Suddenly annoyed, he set the teacup down hard, but it refused to break. “Enough talk. You’ve heard our reasonable demands, and instead of honorable capitulation, you try to distract me with tea and platitudes. But this will not change things in the slightest. You will acknowledge me as your master, and give one eighth your wealth yearly to the Northern Legion, as well as any treasures of slaves that my brothers see today. In return we will let you live.” He nodded in a mockery of her manners. “:That is quite reasonable, yes? And if you wish to have some ritual marriage to ensure the bargain, well that will cost you dearly in treasure” He waited to see if she chose to live or die, or would cowardly try to bargain.
“I’m sorry” she said with what he could tell was feigned sorrow . “We really would join your organization, but I’m afraid we have a prior agreement with the Ashurvalen Empire. They agree to give us autonomy, and in return, we agree to not ally with any of their enemies.” She made an apologetic turn of her head. “So you see, we really can’t join yu right now. Maybe sometime after the Ashurvalen Empire ceases to-“
He flung the tea away and stood up, loonming over the woman, who annoyingly, refused to react. “Do you doubt my army? Do you scoff at their fierceness or their ability? Do you doubt we could slaughter everyone here now that you” he smiled dramatically “have invited us in the heart of your city?”
Still not a flicker of the reaction he wanted; no fear, no anger. She was maintained that infuriating calm.
“Oh no” she said in what was supposed to be a soothing tone “They are certainly the most terrifying force to have come out here in the last few thousand years. Truly, they are impressive. But that’s really besides the point. We won’t fight, and we can’t give you what you want. But as it’s your first visit,” she continued helpfully ”He won’t charge for accommodations.” He fund himself trembling in rage, though she seemed oblivious to her insult.
“Shut up! YOU. Will surrender or die now!”
She artfully tilted her head, pretending to consider “Neither, I’m afraid.”
A distant part of his mind was shouting that this was the trigger of the trap, but he didn’t care. He swept out his sword and-
*Blink*
“Look down” she said
-swept way the table and was lunging toward her and-
“LOOK DOWN”
He glanced down, and froze with a sudden rush of vertigo, choking back a scream like a child. The balcony was gone, leaving only nothing, air and nothing down, down to where the city and the entire river basin was spread out below him, so high he couldn’t make out people. Dazedly he realized he was looking down at the tops of the mountains to the south, the ones he had been contemplating scaling after taking Westshield.. His stomach gave a flip, and abruptly he felt cold sweat, cooling in a sudden chill wind.
“A…trick. An illusion. Witch, I’ll kill you!” He croaked desperately trying to save some illusion of manhood, and tried to move forward. But it was if the air itself had turned solid.
I’m afraid not.” she said, with a note of sympathy in her voice. The table and chairs had disappeared, and she appeared to be sitting on thin air. “I did try to avoid this, but you really left me no choice. I’ve expelled your “Legion” from my vicinity.” She stood, and walked away from him, her robe flapping in the chill thin air. “They’re none the worse for wear, about a days travel to the east.” He felt his sweat turn solid.
What do you want? Wealth? Me as a hostage? It- it wont work” He flushed at the thin note of terror in his voice.
“You’ve come into Westshield, and made demands, and threatened. Now it’s my turn.” Her face was severe and remote, and he suddenly wondered how he could ever have thought her human.
“There will be no invasion, there will be no war with my city. You and your men are banned from this city, for the next hundred years. If your tribes people wish to trade with us they may, but from now on, they will have to leave their weapons outside. We will make arrangements to store them safely. Do you understand?”
With difficulty he found his voice. “You don’t scare me. We will have revenge for this slight.” If he was going to die he decided, he would die a man of the North, not some squealing Imperial!
She sighed. “I don’t care if you’re scared or not. Just stay away. And for now, just go.”
Abruptly Galaqei was falling, and involuntarily he let out a scream. Then an imact, that took his breath away, and he was flailing through water, ice cold from the mountains. His head broke surface, and for a moment it was all he could do to breath. After a what seemed ages his feet scraped bottom, and after a couple tries, he managed to stand up and look around. His entire legion was spread out on the shore of the river, dripping wet, dazedly hunting down their mounts or simply sitting on the shore in shock. In the distance, were the mountains, with a vague dip in them that might indicate the location of a valley containing a city he would never conquer. He splashed his way to shore, and stood up, intensely aware that all the eyes of his lieutenants, their captains, everyone down to the lowliest archer had shifted their gaze to him. Waiting to see what would happen, what could happen now that he had been so thoroughly humiliated. Waiting without a word, the Beast turned twenty-thousand eyes on him..
Back in the city, the City Goddess Westshield sighed and closed her eyes. She heard soft footsteps behind her.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” The voice was of the woman who insisted on calling herself Westshield’s acolyte.
Westfield nodded, rubbing her temples. She wasn’t quite sure what a headache was, but if she ever had one she decided, she would name it Galaqei
“Oh yes. I’m fine thank you. That just took a lot of power.” She slumped back in her chair, and sighed again.
“What an annoying man he was. I’m going to my library to find a good book for a year or two. Don’t wake me unless the people of the Ring decide to attack us.”
The city of Westshield retreated into the corridors of her mind, while outside, the woman elected as her acolyte began cleaning up the spilled remains of her tea.
Galaqei stared at the Beast, and it stared back.
Really, there was only one thing he could do.
He faced the distant city, threw back his head, and bellowed a laugh that he was sure was loud enough even for that goddess back on her tower to hear him. He laughed long and hard, and then turned back to his bewildered kin. “How about that my brothers!” he shouted gleefully. “What a ride!” He bellowed laughter that was a challenge to the Beast.
“A genuine living goddess, and all she could do was throw us out!”