Legend of Axiatés Episode 4



  Legend of Axiatés

  J.B. Kleynhans

  Legend of Axiatés

  Episode 4

  Copyright 2016 by J.B. Kleynhans

  Episode 4

  They were set to depart Bellatoir Manor in the very early hours of the morning. After staying put for a week after the Goddess had killed her own detachment of Sepulchra troops, she suddenly decided it was time to get going.

  Delegan had not mingled with the Goddess too much during that time and had kept himself preoccupied with the books to be found in the Manor. During his exploration of the building he had heard the ramblings of the Lord Charlan about the devastation the Goddess had inflicted on his antechamber. Of course, face to face with the woman called Axiatés he did not raise a single word of protest about the happenings of that night. Still, his foul mood was evident in that he did not emerge to see them off, except for the keeper of his house that bade them best wishes and a good deal of supplies for the road. Till the moment Delegan exited the manor that day, he was not yet sure what their departure here would entail.

  Delegan hovered unsure as he came trudging down the steps, outside at the back of the building of Lord Charlan's Manor. He lifted his gaze up the driveway to see a huge carriage of intricate design and opulent woods, framed with silver alloy polished to a degree where the moonlight made it glisten like steel, and when the sun rose it would be blazoned gold for the first two hours of dawn, Delegan was sure. Reined to the contraption were four dark horses of extraordinary size. They were thick and muscled in stature, their legs looking short in proportion to their body, more reminiscent to the log-like limps of a rhino than any kind of racehorse. They snarled these beasts, and blew angry gusts of moist from their noses like raging bulls. Their eyes too were as black as night and when their lips curled back Delegan was surprised to see fangs in the mouth of a horse. Even as Delegan stood and stared one of the horses tried to take a bite of one of the others. He sensed a malice within these creatures and an inherent impatience that was not becoming of a beast of burden.

  On the front of carriage, waiting with the reins in his hands, and also a long willow-like switch, was what Delegan recognized as one of the Mesauwee beast handlers. Their kind must've gone through a vigorous process of amnesty to appear anywhere in Sepulchra, let alone here. It brought disquieting premonitions of how this journey was going to play out.

  The Mesauwee were descendants of practices frowned upon the world over, ever since mankind had realized how violent the monstra were compared to normal animal life. Beast handlers are what the Mesauwee called themselves, often promoting the idea that they had a mental link with the creatures and even a measure of control over them. To Delegan's mind and eyes, they were little better than a lion-tamer confronting a lion with a chair and whip whilst reassuring everyone everything is under control. The Mesauwee man sitting there observed every tradition appearance-wise; a clean shaven head and a naked torso that had tattoos explaining what kind of creatures he had mastery of. If he did not have a raging black horse imprinted on his chest, across his heart, Delegan's worry would have been worse manifold. Onto that he wore an assortment of ornaments that Delegan had not yet made a study of. Most of the little charms the Mesauwee man wore were probably superstitious things, but today Delegan hoped there was more to it than he would ordinarily believe - anything to keep the four great horses in check.

  ‘Those things are monstra!’ stammered Delegan, hoping he was not pointing this out to the ignorance of the rest. Surely they must know!

  ‘Monstra has become a term used so often it has lost most of its original meaning, and it is bestowed upon every little creature that has the courage to bare its teeth,’ said Axiatés, who walked only a pace behind Delegan, and with the quiet commander Libras at her side, the last of the Sepulchra Mortar soldiers.

  Delegan looked at the Goddess in surprise, waiting for her to overtake him. ‘Well, I guess your Excellency fears very little, but to me anything bigger than a cat poses a problem. And no animal has ever taken a liking to me, even though I pose no threat.’

  Axiatés laughed. ‘The fiercest of beings may yet be the smallest ones Delegan. Have you ever seen bat-eared foxes?’

  ‘Once, not frightening at all. But really your Excellency, before we start talking about bat-eared foxes, can we rather discuss where this carriage has come from?’

  ‘Did you believe I was waiting at the manor for nothing, not planning my best way onwards to the Imperial Empire, dear Delegan?’ said Axiatés.

  Delegan was a little unsettled; given the boldness of being transported by a Mesauwee steering a carriage he wished the Goddess had at least consulted him about it. Never mind the Madura beasts (that's what the giant black horses were known as), how did they hope to pass through civilizations without being confronted or even persecuted?

  ‘Can the Lord Charlan not provide something more... safe?’

  ‘He only has modern automobiles and they will be no good in the desert.’

  Delegan conceded. No modern vehicle was going to make it through Tulan, and Tulan as it were, being a hostile land, valued pragmatic things above the outcry over vilified beasts. If something could pass through Tulan and survive it was then morally justified, so they might yet pass through the deserts without scrutiny. Delegan could only assume they would abandon the carriage once they came across the first borders of Doma Arak, or else they truly operated in folly. The Imperials would not tolerate any kind of monstra or the Mesauwee who pretended to control them.

  Approaching the carriage Delegan urged the Goddess to climb the fold-out steps before him, the Mesauwee coachman offering his hand to guide her up and through the doors. Delegan carefully ascended, and the closest of the Madura looked back at the librarian, the fierce but cloudy eyes of the creature startling Delegan so that he froze and almost missed his next step when he got going again. When the carriage door shut behind him, he felt relieved to be out of the same space as the Madura. Still their impatient whinnies, snorts and stamp of hooves came through muffled to the carriage interior, but it was not as unnerving as walking past in front of them.

  Commander Libras of the Sepulchra climbed in silently and Delegan had a great deal of sympathy for the man. He had tried his best to avert a disaster, failed to do so, essentially betrayed by his own men, but still heartbroken that the detachment of men left in his care were slaughtered mercilessly. To compound the matter, he owed absolute loyalty to the Goddess, as did most men, because she represented the salvation of the world.

  Delegan himself sat opposite of the Goddess, the benches wide and comfortable, some form of expensive leather, hand-stitched stylistically to the extent that Delegan glided his hand over the deep cushion, feeling the outline tentatively.

  ‘The embroidery amuses you?’ asked Axiatés with a wry smile.

  ‘This is Sillivier handiwork. A province of the Imperials.’

  ‘Quite right, librarian,’ said a rather familiar voice from just outside the carriage. Delegan was surprised to the utmost as a man with a rather large frame came squeezing legs first through the open window of the carriage door. That he proved to be so limber was but the first of many surprises.

  ‘What... what are you doing here?’ asked Delegan, recognizing a cult figure he had hoped he would never again run into.

  ‘I summoned him. We need transport at least until we reach Tulan,’ said Axiatés.

  ‘This is your carriage?’ asked Delegan.

  ‘Indeed so,’ said the man known as Dulcan. ‘An Imperial carriage, steered by a Mesauwee lad bearing a Sepulchra woman and her consorts. It is a sign of the times old one, that folk of all corners of the world come t
ogether to ensure the sun rises on all nations. Unlikely allies are at the order of the day. You should know that better than most!’

  Delegan was not ready to ask this man where he had come across the Mesauwee or how he had come to enlist his services. Trying to form a relationship or being caught harbouring a monstra was punishable by death in both Sepulchra and Doma Arak, so for the moment the less Delegan knew the better.

  Dulcan looked like he had picked up some weight, though not an ungainly man, and a dangerous one even if he were not the athletic figure he was some years back. Delegan felt he tried to hide this by wearing a big black coat. Age catches up to all of us, and all those ill-considered treats too! thought Delegan. Dulcan's voice however was still rich and his hair still wavy, which contributed to his charm which Delegan knew he used more often than not. He was the kind of man that had friends everywhere he went.

  ‘Thank you for responding to my call so urgently, even in these times I would have been hard pressed to find someone else,’ said Axiatés.

  ‘And if I can, I will convince you to ride along the border of Tulan instead of through it, the benefit of course