Chapter 1
The Southern Barbarians
AN 1215 (AZ 1452) - Early Spring
Several miles from Danton, Notos
Three weeks had passed since Akasame and his men first tasted human flesh in order to survive. Over three hundred originally joined him in exile. Now little more than a hundred and eighty remained. However, these who survived were the strong and every one of them was worth ten of the weaklings they consumed.
At long last, land appeared on the southern horizon. A cheer was raised up among the men, the first to be heard since the tides of battle turned against them what seemed like so long ago. Two more days passed until they set foot on solid ground. This was it. This was the lands the gods had promised him.
Once the men had all debarked from the ships, Akasame crafted a torch and set fire to the ships that had borne them all this way.
"My lord, why do you burn the ships?" one of his men asked.
Akasame held his torch in one hand and his sword in the other and proclaimed in a loud voice, "This is the land the gods have promised me! We shall not set to sea again! Either we become the masters of this land or here we die!"
The men had not tasted combat in many a long month. Their warrior's blood stirred within them and they roared in reply.
"This land is ours!" the warlord howled. "Be you lowborn or high, here you will all be lords! We will take what is ours!"
The men roared again.
The lights of a village could be seen in the distance. Akasame pointed to the village and said, "There lies our first conquest! But first, take up your arms and go forth, ten and ten. Find us food, find us water, find us horses. Tonight we prepare and at dawn, we strike! Go!"
Oshio, one of three retainers who survived the journey, remained at his side and asked him, "After everything that has happened, my lord, do you still truly believe that the gods favor us?"
His confidence unwavering, Akasame replied, "You shall see, Oshio. Tomorrow when we are made rich in slaves and plunder, you shall see that the gods favor us."
"But this is a strange land, my lord," Oshio said. "We do not know the ways of the spirits of this land. How will we appease them?"
"Appease them?" Akasame balked. "I shall put the spirits under my foot. Everything under the heavens shall fear me!"
His boast was answered by a voice speaking some strange and barbarous tongue. A small group approached him. At the head of this group was a young man with thick, sinewy arms and a large sword strapped to his back. To his right was a short, thick-bearded man nearly as wide as he was tall bearing a broad headed axe and some old man like a mountain hermit carrying an ornate staff. To the young man's left was a dark-skinned woman who hid herself behind a hooded cloak and another woman, tall and strange, some sort of Mononoke, no doubt.
"Begone!" Akasame shouted. "Leave this place or I shall cut you down!"
"My lord, these are no common people," Oshio warned. "Behold the Mononoke."
"Have we not slain man and Mononoke alike to hold our lands, Oshio? They are but five and I am worth a hundred men!"
The young barbarian held up his hand so that his companions would not follow as he stepped forward, drawing his large and heavy sword and bearing with only one hand. So he meant to duel. It had been years since anyone had dared to challenge him man-to-man. He was going to enjoy this.
"Iza!"
Akasame charged forward with a swing that would kill most men, but the young barbarian blocked it easily. Akasame swung again, but this time the barbarian did not block it so forcefully, so instead of repelling Akasame's blade, two swords locked together. In the contest of strength, neither was gaining a clear advantage. Though it shamed him, Akasame took hold of the hilt of his sword with both hands to overcome the barbarian, but even with both hands, he was only able to push back the barbarian slowly, too slowly.
While Akasame's focus was wholly fixed on pushing back the barbarian's blade, the barbarian used his free hand to punch Akasame in the chest. It was not a strong enough blow to knock him back, only enough that the hit was felt, as if this were some sort of game.
"Now we can talk," the barbarian said.
How was it that the barbarian spoke his language? While Akasame wondered at this mystery, the barbarian stepped back, separating their blades. This cause Akasame to lose his balance, but he quickly recovered and braced himself for the barbarian's next stroke, but the barbarian did not strike. Instead he stood a couple paces away, the point of his sword buried in the dirt.
He raised his hand and said, "Hold."
"What trickery is this?" Akasame demanded.
"Look down," the barbarian said.
Akasame did so and saw a small jeweled charm stuck to the hempen cord fastening his armor.
"So long as you wear that amulet, you can understand me and I can understand you." the barbarian explained. "Who are you and why have you come here?"
"Is it not custom even among you barbarians to give your name first?"
"It isn't," the barbarian replied, "but very well. I am Rowland, son of Carolus, captain of the Promethean Alliance. I fight to liberate my people from foreign oppressors. And you?"
Straightening himself up, Akasame declared proudly, "I am called Akasame, the bringer of the red rain. The gods have given me this land to take by my sword, this sword by which I am named."
The barbarian laughed.
"Your gods must be mighty indeed if they're to hand over this land to five men."
Akasame glanced to the four men with him. Did the barbarian think this was all the men who followed him?
"Fool! I command over—"
"Less than two hundred men," the barbarian interrupted, "who are now mine. Look around you."
Akasame saw torches light to reveal hundreds of barbarians all around him and the men he sent out standing there unarmed, held at the point of sword and spear.
"Cowards!" he roared at his men. "Why did you not fight!?"
"Oh, don't be too hard on them," the barbarian Rowland said. "I wanted them alive, so I had them ensorcelled so they wouldn't fight back."
"You will not bewitch me so easily!" Akasame spat.
"I don't need to bewitch you," Rowland said, "because you're going to listen to reason. If I wished it, you and all your men would've been dead before you even set foot on my land. However, you all look strong enough and I have use for strong men."
Did this barbarian think that Akasame would submit to him?
"I will never lower my head to barbarian scum," he vowed.
"I don't want to rule over you," Rowland said. "I'm proposing an alliance. Join me in my fight against the real barbarians and everything from my left hand to the sea is yours. It'd be a start on fulfilling your gods' promises."
"My lord, this is a mystery of the gods," Oshio said. "You were vanquished before because you stood alone. Perhaps this is meant to be the gods' lesson for you."
"Perhaps," Akasame said doubtfully. Though his pride compelled him to lash out and kill as many of these barbarians as he could, reason counseled patience. "So be it, Rowland, son of Carolus. I, Akasame, shall fight by your side."
"Then come," Rowland said, "give me your hand. It is how my people seal a covenant."
Grudgingly, Akasame extended his hand and allowed the barbarian to grasp his wrist, which he returned in kind.
"Welcome to the Promethean Alliance, Akasame, the bringer of the red rain," Rowland said with a grin, giving Akasame's wrist and extra squeeze. "How would you and your men like some food? I'm sure you're weary from your time at sea."
Akasame nodded. He would play the barbarian's game for the time being, but soon he would see that this land came under the dominion of a single sword, his own. This was what the gods decreed and this was what would be done.