Interlude: The Deliverer (Patreon)

Interlude: The Deliverer

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Commissioned by J.A.

Wordcount: 2500

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When I was born, my destiny and that of my people’s was that of war.

From birth to adulthood, war was our sole and only purpose.

I killed for the first time at eight years old. The man I killed was three decades older than me, holding a pitchfork, and desperately trying to protect his town. Even now, I recall the fear in his eyes, the trembling in his arms, and the sensation of his skull being broken by my club traveling up my arm into my own skull.

As my people surged into the town, breaking its paltry defenders, I stared down at the life I had taken, at the lives being taken before me, and our masters at our backs. My brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins, and more were dying against the town’s militia, but they did nothing. Only when the militia was broken, did they begin to whip the reins of their horses and trundle forward in a charge.

In their charge, which broke the bodies of the villagers and that of my kin, the town’s people died and so did my own.

Armored horses, long spears, and skill in battle showed all of my kind that our masters were right to rule over us.

That we couldn’t rebel.

That our lives were theirs to spend.

That our spirits were theirs to spoil, as they set us upon innocent people simply living their lives, so that they can sack village after village.

That very night, I left and thought that I would leave that life behind, but in the end I found myself using what I knew to survive.

Killing.

…

By manhood, twelve score died by my hand. I was a hired mercenary, beginning with nothing but a rock and a club, before rising to full plate and a large hammer that could lay waste brick walls with ease. Many of my kin flocked to me, but they did not join me. They sought to take my armor, my weapons, and my pride as their own, and I killed them, too.

Before I reached two decades, I killed more people than most people would ever meet in their lives, and I desperately tried to find another path forward.

A path past the bloodshed.

I sought out the few scholars willing to teach me, the few mages willing to entertain me, and weapon masters who wanted a true warrior as a student. Every moment bereft of sleep and work, for more than two decades, was spent learning, growing, and becoming more. As my legend grew, however, the blood that gathered at my feet welled up and attempted to drag me in wholesale.

Those I killed had mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins, and friends of their own.

Some of those were rich, powerful, capable, or had connections.

My rise to prominence as a learned Conqueror aspiring to help my kind was dashed against the stones, as those I wronged came forth into the light to drag me down to where I belonged and drown my aspirations with me.

And, so, I was defeated by the machinations of my younger self, who turned to violence, and found myself once more a slave. My name was reviled, my reputation burnt to ash, and those who did not forsake me were killed.

For the next fifty years, I was a slave of battle bereft of anything but his body.

My mind and spirit were gone for a long, long time.

…

I did not stir from my thoughtless fugue for forty-nine years, but fortune smiled upon me one day, as amongst the slaves I was with was born someone greater than me. A young man of my kind. Smarter, stronger, and better from birth. All that I struggled to learn was his within minutes of being introduced to him. In battle, he was a champion. Outside of battle, he was adored as a storyteller, cook, assistant, leader, and more.

I taught him all that I knew, some part of me thinking that he would do what I could not, and then his death was ordered and carried out the same hour.

When I saw his body carted away and tossed to the dead, no reason given by our masters, for the first time in decades… my hands curled into fists.

But, instead of acting on my own, I knew better.

The masters hoped that the anger and hate would pass, that food, wine, and rest would kill away Fang’s death. However, I didn’t allow it. They trusted me to teach and advise my kindred. I was passed onto them from their grandfathers and was a cornerstone of their warband. They reasoned that I was broken, lacking in drive, and would serve them until I died.

They were wrong.

I cultivated the hate, and despair in my people.

I feigned forgetfulness for my weapons and hid them away with none the wiser.

I scrapped at the ground with my bare hands to bury the smallest of knives, the most errant of arrowheads, and pieces of rope. When the women had their hair cut, I gathered them and wove garrotes. From the bones of beasts, I fashioned arrowheads in the dead of night. When I spoke stories to the children, I taught them to read, think, and feel, and did the same for their parents when they realized I regained my heart.

When the night of freedom came, I shouted Fang’s name while leading the charge, and I intended to die against the masters.

But, in the end, they fell against us without so much as one of us dying in the process. They were complacent, they thought us broken and filled with fear. They were wrong, and in the end, they all died by our hand.

And, for the first time in known history, the Conquerors ruled by themselves.

With me installed as the leader.

I did not deserve the duty, it belonged to young, bright souls such as Fang, but until one arrived, I decided that I would live for the Conquerors and guide them.

Even if I needed to starve every day and every night to live.

…

We grew in strength, power, and might.

The deserts of the continent became our homeland. Though many children were lulled into long sleeps, we formed the core of our nation in the desert. We needed less water and food, especially when we were not rearing children. Those that wished to hunt us would be easy prey. Horses, both those that flew and those did not, fared poorly in the deserts and we made sure to take the camels and other beasts of burden as our own.

We strove to move from oasis to oasis, growing as more heard of us and broke their chains to join us, and those who couldn’t we helped do so with raiding parties. Our hunters went forth into the forests and the lands of others for food, but often returned with more people.

Slowly, but surely we became a people instead of a gathering of individuals.

Decorations started to form on our tents. We took up old traditions and customs and made them our own. Children were born and grew without knowing the life of battle slaves. Smiths, hunters, and warriors paved the way for scholars, mages, and merchants. Years passed, my hunger was incessant, my body grew stiff, and the time I could spend doing more than walking grew slimmer and slimmer… but I was driven to see more.

To see my people, rise up, to see more talented people come forth, until one came who would lead no just us… but all the peoples of the continent to a better tomorrow.

A world free of slavery.

A world free of constant war.

A world free of chaos and disorder.

Not into a perfect, utopian world, but one where laws were respected, where the dignity of a person was protected, and all could live and stand tall without fear of being struck down.

Such was my dream, and so I slaked my hunger with the passion that I had for my people.

Through times of turmoil, through times of peace, and through times of ennui, I persisted and led my people as well as I was able. My court waxed and waned with lieutenants of good nature, ill nature, talent, lacking in talent, and more. As they passed, as they aspired to greatness or fell, I continued to look over my people… until one day my name was forgotten, and I became the Deliverer.

Someone who would guide the Conquerors to their paradise.

…

“Deliverer.”

Crusher announced his presence with a low growl. His size and weight would’ve been unimaginable when I was a child. Though he looked up at me now, I was sure that in a few decades he would be larger than I and threaten even pure-blooded giants.

Many others would as well.

I tilted my head his way in greeting, and he bowed his head, while keeping his back straight.

The only true sign of respect that I needed was his lack of weapon at his side in my court, and such was the case when he came to present his report on the migration of our people to our hard-won Citadel.

I expected to simply receive a written report from him.

The fact that he came told me that there was something that required him to speak to me.

So, I listened.

“I met the child-King who rules the Citadel to our south. He knows our customs and our ways and treated us with the respect we were due. Now, he moved to take the Citadel of the Children of the Elm." The Children of the Elm. There were no worse creatures that feigned civility than they. In their minds, there were only two goals: to cultivate nature and to kill all that were not their own kind. That they were the Citadel to our north had given me pause, but we had no Citadel closer to our armies and many had begun to search for them when the first arose and the methods to do so disseminated. “I believe that we are in danger.”

I said nothing, but he felt my gaze upon him, and Crusher continued.

“The strength of his army was mighty indeed. Every soldier marched with precision and discipline and drive. All were uniformed in their kingdom’s colors, and armed and armored both in steel. Though they looked upon us with fear, they all had the courage to fight against us.” I had heard of what happened in the first Citadel. It was seized by a man named Khanrow, a leader of a famed warband, until he was betrayed. He gave his ring to rule the Citadel to an orphan boy who led his warband to the Citadel. Destiny, some said it was, but I listened to Crusher instead of ruminating on those rumors. “Their king, however, is beyond all stories and claims of him. He is wise beyond all reckoning, but also intelligent, clever, and cunning. When I spoke with him, I felt as though I were a whelp standing before my teachers.”

That was all that my trusted Champion needed to say.

“We will watch. We will wait. We will listen. We will prepare.” Speaking was difficult now. My throat lacked water and my stomach held a deep, empty hunger. However, I could not partake. My last, waning years had to be stretched as long as possible. This was a critical juncture for our people. This chance could not be lost. “Such is my will.”

“Yes, Chieftain!” Crusher once again bowed his head, before slamming his fist over his heart. “Your will shall be done!”

I raised my hand to bid him farewell before allowing myself to slip into a half-slumber to save myself from the hunger and thirst.

When the doors open again, I will be needed, and I shall be ready.

…

The continent was the closest to peace that it had ever been, yet now it seemed farther than it had ever been before.

The Scholars used their city-ship, from the era of the Ancients, and used it as a weapon.

“Heed my call, no Conqueror shall ever trade, hold alliance with, or keep in good company a Scholar of the Skies.” My words echoed around the meeting hall. Clan leaders, stewards, heads of the burgeoning system of governance of my people, all nodded in assent at my words. “Everything short of war shall be unleashed upon them. They will find no favor from us.”

A low rumbling of assents rippled through the whole of the hall, but I took note of the youngest warriors that sat at the end of the table.

They earned their place through feats of martial prowess in the Colosseum, completing the challenge of practical and theoretical lessons many times over, and hunting down dangerous beasts. The King of Wisdom has advised us to channel the youth’s ferocity and fervor, and now the newest warriors were already shining bright.

“No! We must strike now! Hard and fast, before they can compose such a strike again! Not only that, but the remains of the Academy’s forces must be brought to heel!”  Their leader was Crusher’s daughter and her eyes were alive with fury and intellect. Her skin was a dark skin hue and hair a mane of red, and she already matched her father in height. Her mantle was formed from that of a Manticore. The maw of the lion was on her right shoulder, the goat head on her left, and the leather that lined it was of the dreaded snake that composed the tail. She had hunted that legendary beast alone. “Father! Deliverer! The whole region must be brought to heel!”

Her voice echoed through the entire hall and the grumbling, low voices of assent stilled and for the first time in many years, I saw dissent amongst the ranks from my orders and edicts.

The pride that I felt for my people increased in an instant.

I am not their master, but a leader that they chose, and who they can replace.

Wonderful.

“You speak out of turn, my daughter! The Deliverer has made his decision!” Smasher spoke as my right hand. I could see his pride and joy. Even as he shouted her down, a faint smile played on his lips. The dream of every parent was to see their children grow stronger and mightier than they. “If you wish for action to be taken against those wretched beasts, then you will present your argument when we reconvene and know more!”

“But this is the time to strike! This emergency council is to decide to act, to marshal our forces, and to strike! What meaning can there be to the urgency with which we have gathered… if we simply decide to turn our noses up and rebuff the Scholars!?”

“There is a difference between action and recklessness! To send our forces halfway across the continent, surging to bring low two armies in the chaos of war!? Think! The Deliverer is buying us time!”

Crusher yelled at his daughter, and his daughter yelled back, when the doors to the meeting hall opened.

The letter I expected from the moment the news arrived was finally here.

The King of Wisdom made his move and whatever plan it would set into motion was to engulf the continent entire.

My task would be to gain the most for the Conquerors in his wake, until we can make our own.