Child of Blood and Pain

Vendhayana

The Governor's House

Belithan placed the pipe to his lips and inhaled deeply from the hookah fumes bubbling within the tall, slender tube standing next to his cushioned throne. His wanting eyes took in the titillating sight of the dancers performing on his private stage. Young and untouched, the handpicked women slaves bent and swayed to the music playing from the booth close to the ceiling, where the band played the governor's favorite song. The day had been long for him, and Belithan sought entertainment to calm his fragile nerves.

Wine and food were brought before him in great dishes and pitchers, enough to feed a family of eight. Of course, the feast was reserved for no one save for the governor. The tempo was growing feverish, the dancers spun and twirled quickly until the music suddenly ceased. As practiced, the dancers timed their dance perfectly to bow before their master as soon as the band ended their performance.

They posed there on the stage, trembling and sweating as they awaited his judgement.

Fortunately for them, Belithan was not of a foul mood that afternoon, otherwise he would've had them whipped for even the smallest mistake. He dismissed the dancers with a casual wave of his fat greasy hand, "A splendid performance. Now leave."

They obeyed, scurrying quickly to the exit to escape the lecherous old man lest his wanting heart desire the warmth of their company in his bedchamber. The governor picked up a chicken leg and got up to take a walk across his palace balcony. His wandering gaze took in the beauty of the city of his birth.

Vendhayana was an old city, built on the ruins of an even older city. Its streets were labyrinthine, its layout was arcane. All of it, from the highborn men of Stygia who now live in opulent palaces to the lowborn workers who dwelled in respectable brick houses, was thanks to him. Belithan was proud of what he'd done. His kinsmen would call him a coward for bowing to the Nucerians, but they no longer say such things.

Nor do they stand among the living, not anymore.

The years were kind to him now. He enjoyed the benefits and privileges that came with being a vassal of Nuceria, as did his many followers. Smart men, he called them, who saw beyond the yoke of the republic and seized the opportunity presented to them. Little did the proud governor know that on that same day, as he remained bloated with thoughts of all he'd accomplished, it was their hour of reckoning.

They came upon the gates of Vendhayana with the force and speed of a falling star. Before long, the entire city was gripped in fear and panic. In the confusion, no one bothered to alert the governor himself about the wolves at their door. The captain of the guard, the city watch, the garrisoned Nucerian legionnaires- they poured all their efforts on barring the gates and stemming the blood-red tide threatening to wash over them. A noble effort, but much too late.

The barbarian hordes were already within the city, and they were putting everything in their path to the sword and torch.

"Governor!" A band of Nucerians came knocking at his door, their armor and weapons drenched in blood. Their leader was reloading his rifle when the fat Stygian finally answered the call. "Come with us! Quickly! We must get you out of the city before the enemy reaches this district and blocks the exits!"

They would not let him go back into the house to fetch some valuables to take on the flight from the besieged city. Belithan's protests were quickly silenced, for the cowardly man held self-preservation sacred above all. He followed the men out into the streets flooding with fearful citizens seeking to barricade themselves inside their homes and wait out the slaughter.

Those frightened men and women, with all their elders and young children, in fact have little to fear. The monsters that carved their way through the streets of Vendhyana were only there for two kinds of prey- Nucerians and their lapdogs.

Belithan laid eyes upon their leader, a giant of impossible proportions and wrapped in the strength of the gods, as he bellowed a mighty warcry that shattered the resolve of the beleaguered defenders. His hands brandished roaring chainaxes of roaring, biting teeth, still wet with blood and gore from fresh kills. The sight of him was more than enough to shake what little confidence the governor had for his Nucerian overlords.

Somehow, he knew, this was the day he would die.

"This way!" The Nucerian centurion yelled, pushing his way past a fleeing pair of noblemen and rounded a corner to the gates opposite of the horde's advance. The governor and his sycophants followed. The legionnaire stopped short when he realized that another warband had circled around the walls of Vendhayana and was cutting a red path through the sentries posted at the gates. This warband was cutting quickly through his men, and it was led by none other than the Red Maiden herself! He put the stock of his weapon to his shoulder and let off a few rounds, attempting to shoot the woman right off her dune cat. "No! Back! We go back!"

But there was no way back. There was nowhere else to turn. Vendhayana was a city with high walls, but had only two gates. A precaution by the great engineers who built it to ensure that an army seeking to lay siege to it would find few points of entry. A precaution, perhaps, that proved to be a dreadful oversight. The second gate merely provided the horde a means to better speed the fall of Vendhayana.

"All is lost!" One of the legionnaires despaired, having seen his friends and battle-brothers fall to the blades of the barbarians. "We're going to die here!"

The centurion considered chastising the man for his brittle spine, but he knew it would make no difference. They were trapped now, in the middle of two waves that would soon crush and smother them beneath a red tide. He ordered them to find a good spot in the city square in which they could make a defensible point, "Then stand tall and die as a soldier of the Empire. Close ranks, men! We make our stand here!"

The Red Maiden's laughter rang clear through the din of battle. The last thing the centurion saw was Sonjita leaping off her mount, arms raised with her sword ready to cleave through flesh, and sailing through the air gracefully towards him. Nucerian armor couldn't save him from getting bisected in two. The sword passed through his right shoulder and out his left side. The centurion uttered a gurgled gasp before falling apart completely.

The warband made short work of the remaining legionnaires, leaving only a few dying soldiers and the Stygian traitors lying in a puddle of their own making. The acrid stench of urine assaulted Sonjita's nostrils, and a disgusted grimace formed across her beautiful face. Belithan cowered before the sight of that face, for he knew it was the face of his executioner.

Quickly, the woman strode forward and buried the tip of her blade in his throat. She knew that if she let him grasp desperately to the remaining strands of his life, a torrent of pleas and empty promises would pour out of his greasy mouth.

When the sword slid painfully out of his neck, the governor clutched at the wound in a desperate attempt to stem the flow. He crawled through the dusty street, leaving a red trail that ended only when his waning strength could no longer support his weight. Belithan died like a dog, a fitting end for a sycophant of the Empire.

With the last of the city leaders dead, Vendhayana fell to the mercy of the barbarian horde.

People were dragged from their homes and pressed together in the city square by the hundreds. Men, women and children from all walks of life were forced to stand before the gladiator king. Angronius, a foreign war god and the very embodiment of terror, strode forward to address the mixed multitude.

His voice in battle was like that of a raging river. But as he spoke to them, it became like the still waters of a lake. "Be not afraid, people of Vendhayana. We have not come for your lives, but only for those who seek to reign as your overlords. This city was once of the Freelands, of Stygia. Now, we give it back to you."

There was a near-palpable aura about him, like a warm glow that calmed the frightened children and their mothers. For some, it instilled some courage in those willing to challenge the so-called liberators.

A man, long in years and bearing scars from many battles in his prime, stood between some of the freedmen warriors and his own family. Two little frightened girls clung to the woman standing behind him. He did not look much like a native Stygian, with his fair skin, blood red hair and bright blue eyes. Even with Stygian traditional robes, he looked as if the blood of Nucerians flowed through his veins. As soon as Sonjita laid eyes on him, she singled him out and put the edge of her blade against his neck.

"You are no Stygian." She hissed.

"I am no less Stygian than you." He replied, unwavering even in the face of death. The man had the bearing of a veteran legionnaire, a proud son of Nuceria among humble Freelanders. He turned his head to Angronius and declared, "My name is Remus Antonius! It is true, I was born in Nuceria. I have made my home here for ten years now. You claim to return this city to its people, but must men like me face persecution even if all we seek is to live in peace?"

"You jest!" Sonjita spat, her hateful eyes blazing with renewed fire. "Nucerians come to Stygia for only one thing- conquest! But if it's peace you seek, perhaps I can help you out. Kneel!"

She kicked him behind the knees, forcing him to bend before her.

Angronius stepped forward, Sonjita growled at him in warning. "Stand aside, gladiator king! You will not forestall my judgement, not this time!"

"Perhaps not. But I will caution you." He pointed to the crowd, "Take a moment, see the lives you will forever change with your actions this day."

The storm cloud in the Red Maiden's mind relented, allowing a moment of clarity. She glanced back and saw two little girls watching from behind the safety of their mother's skirts. Two little girls with red hair, looking on with tearful green eyes like hers. They were reminders of a time when a little girl long ago witnessed the Nucerians butcher her whole village and put her home to the torch.

Men like them were able to live with ill-gained peace, like Antonius. The horde slew many Nucerians that day, but there was little satisfaction to be gained by killing a handful of old men no matter how tainted their past was. Had she fallen so far to sink as low as the legionnaires who robbed her of everything? The man had not been there among them. She would know, she sees their faces every night to the day.

Sonjita decided that she had her fill of Nucerian blood. There will be more, just not from Antonius or anyone else in Vendhayana.

"You deserve to die, legionnaire." She said quietly, "Never forget that."

The Red Maiden let him go, and Antonius fell forward onto all fours. His wife and his daughters rushed forward and wrapped themselves around him, as if to shield him from the eyes of the glowering horde. One of the girls scowled hatefully at Sonjita, making the woman smile with amusement.

At the very least, she put a spark of defiance in the little one.

"The city is ours." Sonjita declared, at last feeling the satisfaction of finishing what she'd started long ago.

"No." Angronius corrected her, "It is theirs. Do not forget, we did not come to rule this city. There is an empire across the sea, and we need more men. More guns, a system of supply and acquisition. Winning a war depends on it. A walled city will grant us all this, but no more than that."

He turned from her and led his warriors to properly clear the old barracks, fortresses and towers of the Nucerian dead. The horde was ever hungry, it needed more fuel, more numbers. Vendhayana would be his staging ground. Before long, word would spread of their victory that day. All those who chafed beneath the Empire's boot would see the beacon of hope in their darkening world, they would come to Angronius to lend their aid.

That night, the freedmen garrisoned at the dwellings of the now dead Nucerians stirred up the solemn night with their noise of revelry. The gladiator king allowed them one night to celebrate, one night to taste of the fruits of their labors.

Then, no more. For their days would be dedicated to war. He would have them train, to learn from his gladiator brethren, to treat their iron constitution until it was as steel.

They drank, they feasted, they fornicated till dawn. Stygian warrior women, having witnessed the unmatched strength of Angronius' gladiator brethren, found worthy men to sire their future children. Sons and daughters born of their power and ferocity, to return the honor the Freelands had lost. Among all of them, the women desired Angronius the most. A god among men wasn't something mere mortals were able to have every day. And none, as it turned out, desired him more than the Red Maiden.

Where once she despised the man for his unknowable temperament, her curiosity returned, and she began to yearn to know the mysteries hidden beneath that hard shell he wraps himself in. As it was with every woman given to her base instincts, Sonjita wanted to conquer yet another beast. She didn't care much for the fact that someone else held his leash. She would have him.

And so, the Red Maiden kept her distance and watched.

In the months that followed, Angronius busied himself with all the duties expected of him as leader of the horde as well as the new position he found himself in. Without leaders to safeguard and organize the locals of Vendhayana, chaos reigned in the streets of the city. Trade flow was disrupted, food and water supplies were shortened, and the Stygians treated the city-folk worse than their previous overlords for allowing the Nucerians to reign over them undisputed.

Angronius was quick to set things right. First, he kept the horde on a tighter leash, lest the people prefer Nucerian rule to that of Stygians. Next, he divided his warriors according to skill and selected the best and most reliable, tasking them to drive out the Nucerian legions from the surrounding territories. Once he was certain that the borders were secure, he opened up the city to allow trade to flow steadily once more. His efforts were met with guarded relief, for a conquered people twice-over could not be expected to welcome change with open arms.

So absorbed had he become with his duties that Angronius began to neglect the one person who embodied the last vestige of good things in his life.

To Polgara's dismay, her husband would even devote the hours of his leisure to govern the people of Vendhayana. When he would come to their bed at night, he'd often hold state papers in one hand while the other held hers till the wee hours of the morn. The sorceress dared not reproach him, for 'twas only just for him to try and do right by the people of the Freelands. Gradually, those liberated from Nucerian control began to accept the new order of things.

They may not like Angronius, but they didn't quite hate him either.

This fact was something of a goal that Angronius pursued, to ensure that Vendhayana would forever remain a part of Stygia even after he and the horde had moved on.

But his quest to return to Nucerian soil, to wage war against his former masters, would yet again take pause. It was not the news of the 5th Legion rallying together to counterattack, nor the petty squabbles of the warriors sworn to his banner that caused the great Angronius to wrest his attention from ruling as king of the horde.

It was the birth of his child.

It happened on a beautiful afternoon, when the sun drenched the sky in golden red light and the noise of content citizens minding their many businesses filled the air. The wind was cool, and the birds sang sweetly from every tree sprouting from the cracks of the ancient city. The Stygian women, friends of the sorceress, sent news of Polgara in labor. Angronius was once again with his small council of followers, busy with issuing orders to better prepare the city defenses in case Nucerian infiltrators were to weaken them in advance of the legion vanguard.

As soon as he heard what happened, he immediately set aside his duties as governor and rushed back to the house where he and Polgara have made their home.

He found his wife in agony. The birth was difficult, for the child she bore was no mere child. The blood of a god flowed in its veins, and it yearned to break free from its fleshy prison. Polgara's screams carried across the whole district, and for hours she struggled to deliver the baby without much success.

She bled and she bled. Her skin glistened with the sweat of her exertions, and grew pale as her strength started to leave her.

Yet again, the universe threatened to tear away his beloved Polgara, and yet again Angronius felt powerless to help her. The gladiator king was not one too proud to ask for aid, especially when it concerned one he held so close to his heart. As night approached, he had the women seek out the midwives, the doctors or healers within Vendhayana. Anyone who could be of use, he cared not if they were Nucerian or Stygian.

Many were called, but none came. None, except for Warmother Minerva.

As if to repay her for the kindness she showed her, the elder woman approached the suffering mother-to-be and helped her to finally deliver the stubborn child. For as much as she led her kinsmen in battle all those years ago, Minerva was first and foremost a midwife to all the women of the horde. She had not forgotten how to turn a difficult childbirth away from disaster, to turn sorrow into joy.

A few more hours of agony, and Polgara gave birth to a baby girl.

Exhausted beyond words, Polgara fell back into the bloodied sheets. As she gripped tightly to Angronius' strong hand, her ears heard the angry bawling of her daughter. Minerva held in her hands the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen, and a feisty little one at that.

"This one has the fire of a warrior's spirit in her!" The Warmother laughed, "A good omen!"

"She lives?" Polgara said weakly. "Angron, bring her here..."

Angronius was grinning from ear to ear, proud to have given life where he'd once only known to take it. He received the tiny screaming bundle from Minerva, then brought her to her mother's arms. Polgara beheld her daughter with tears in her eyes, happy to see some good come out of the sordid chapter in her life.

"Born of my blood, born of my pain..." She murmured as she pressed the baby to her breast, "I name you Lotara Sarrin."