Sonjita awoke to the steady beating of a god's heart hammering beneath her ear, and opened her eyes once the drunken stupor of the early morning had released its hold from her head. She twisted her body one way and another to stretch her aching muscles, but immediately realized the futility of her actions. Some aches would remain for quite some time, and no amount of stretching would chase them away.
She felt Angronius' arm slide away from her waist as she sat up on the bed. The Red Maiden squinted in the dim light and beheld the serene spectacle before her with a satisfied smile. She had slept well with a long and dreamless sleep. And for once, she felt complete, as though Angronius was the one thing missing in her life. Polgara awoke not long after her, and their eyes met.
There was no spite in the look she gave, only warmth. Sonjita found the welcoming gesture reassuring, considering the fact that she was still very much an intruder in this... unique three-part relationship.
"Thank you." She quietly said to Polgara.
The sorceress lifted herself from her husband's side and slipped out of Angronius' possessive grasp. She drew close to the Red Maiden and embraced her as her sister-wife, changing her perspective entirely with but a single act. Even after the passion of a shared night had long faded, Polgara still held true to her part of the bargain.
She put on her robes and helped fetch Sonjita's scattered garments. When they had both dressed, the two women greeted the day together at the palace balcony. Sonjita sharpened her sword with a whetstone, while Polgara nursed her child. Slowly, the sun climbed up into the sky, and with it the people of the Freelands gathered at the muster fields.
They were eager to march for the harbor at Landfall, to seize the ships there and sail across the Sodian towards Nuceria. For once, they would become the invaders. For once, Nuceria would tremble beneath the boots of a thousand vengeful warriors. Polgara was aware of the suffering the people she had once called her countrymen would endure in the following weeks. The war rages on, and the soft folk of both the provinces and cities would have of its bitter taste.
It saddened her still, and her compassionate heart yearned for an end to the struggle. It was unfortunate that it could only ever end one way.
Sonjita paused to watch the babe suckle from Polgara's breast, and imagined what the feeling would be like when she would nurse her own child in the same manner one day. Curious, she inquired of the nature of motherhood and the benefits it brought to her. "Polgara, how do you find motherhood? Does it vex you at all?"
"Hah! Vexed? With her?" Polgara laughed, holding up a giggling Lotara for her sister-wife to see. "Never. Angronius has made me the happiest woman in the world. One day, you will feel it too. The pride and joy of having created life, the beautiful mix of your features and personalities in one tiny package. These, and the duty of raising the child of a god. Trust me, it is something you will never ever regret."
"I believe you." Sonjita took the child into her arms, "When the time comes, I hope I bring only daughters for Angron. Just like you."
"Daughters? Why not sons?"
The Red Maiden's eyes lowered, "I cannot stomach the thought of raising men who might one day dishonor my name by forcing themselves on a woman."
Polgara regarded her thoughtfully, "And do you think that women aren't capable of being just as vicious as men? Evil lurks in the hearts of all mankind, but to act nobly or to deny these baser instincts- it must be taught. Yes, there is always that danger. Our children will have demigod blood flowing through their veins, but our words as their mothers would sway them towards the proper path."
"Perhaps."
The sorceress reached out and touched her arm, "Whatever comes from your womb is still your child. I implore you to love them."
Sonjita remained silent, and handed Lotara back to her mother. She didn't want to talk about it anymore, lest her fears drive a wedge between her and her hard-sought happiness. Come what may, she would birth and raise warriors of unparalleled strength and honor. They will not be predators, they will be conquerors.
"That name he called you when you were with him. Eanna. What does it mean?"
"It means 'desert flower'. It is a name my parents gave to me, more of a name of endearment than a proper one. And you, what does yours mean?"
Sonjita hung her head as though the memory pained her, "The name my father and mother gave me was Sonjall, and it meant 'merciful one'. After the Nucerians butchered my village, I changed my name to Sonjita. It means 'vengeful one'."
Polgara nodded slowly, "I pray you find peace, Sonja."
"I already have." The Red Maiden replied, hearing the heavy footfalls the gladiator king echoing through the halls of the palace.
"Well, looks like someone's gotten a head-start with the day." Angronius greeted the two women as he left the bedchamber. First, he went over to Polgara and kissed her cheek. "Good morning, love."
Sonjita hesitated when he turned to her with that expectant look on his face. Still uncertain with what to do, she stared blankly after him.
"Come here." Angronius beckoned, grabbing her waist and giving her a kiss of her own. "And good morning to you too."
The Red Maiden blushed as he gave her backside a light tap and a squeeze before departing for his formal address of the gathering horde. They were preparing to depart soon, and Angronius was wasting little time in getting things underway. The two women followed him out of the city, where their personal transporter awaited with all their necessities packed and stored for the long journey to the shores of the Freelands.
Before leading the first dozen convoys to the sea, Angronius took a moment to inform the Freelanders of his decision to make Minerva one of his lieutenants, who would be leading the Stygian warriors. Seeing that having a fellow native leading them into battle would smoothen the transition of a simple horde into a better disciplined army, Angronius was set on making this particular change done regardless of the protests of his followers.
For the most part, Minerva had been right about her people blaming her for the atrocities they suffered in the final days of her war with Acraesius, especially the womenfolk. Here, Angronius' unmatched charisma worked wonders and persuaded them to allow the warmother to redeem herself. Out of respect for the gladiator king, the Stygians reluctantly accepted the change and swore that they would follow Minerva's every word as though they came from his mouth.
With the integrity of his inner circle of leaders made whole again, Angronius led the people on the next task, which was to construct their mighty armada from the wrecked derelicts the 5th Legion left behind followings its defeat at Vendhayana.
Fearing that the barbarians would come next for Nuceria, and rightly so, Coriolanus gave the order for all ships and aerial transporters to be scuttled and their salvageable materials thrown into the sea should the worst occur. He also had demolition teams posted at every workshop, smelter, refinery and factory. Anything that the rebels could exploit, he had them destroyed. The Stygian rebels at Landfall, or any port within a hundred miles, were unable to stop them from carrying out this final order. By the time the Eaters of Cities arrived at the coast, there was nothing left of these places of note but smoking ruins.
And so, Angronius got to work.
The invasion would be delayed, but it would take more than a few burned out buildings or derelict cruisers to keep him from crossing the Sodian Sea. Under his guidance, warriors became workhands and builders overnight. The skills of restoration and rebuilding, this god of war imparted to lesser men. All the while, his lieutenants gathered fresh recruits daily, all who came to answer the call to war.
Minerva the Warmother settled into her new position and gradually gained the trust of her countrymen by taking the initiative and securing the coastland ahead of Angronius. There were many enemies who resisted the arrival of the horde, many enemies in need of correction. She had failed the Freelanders once, but they felt that she out of all of them suffered the most, and suffered enough. Angronius chose her for a reason, if nothing else they would trust his word.
She oversaw the training of new warriors and the assignment of those who proved themselves upon the training grounds. All the while, Angronius' ships neared completion.
Winter was already upon them when the first five battlecruisers were finished, each and every one built from naught but scratch. Angronius, ever the genius, implemented his own design using detritus and scrap. He turned slag deposits into sources of hardy metals, with which he constructed the framework up until the bulkheads themselves. The hull was almost as strong as star-metal, and could theoretically endure even the biggest icebergs that plagued the Sodian Sea at that time of the year.
Angronius would not wait for the next season. The hour to strike was nigh, and those five ships would ferry the first two hundred warriors who would sail for Nuceria's coastlands and form the beachhead for the rest of the Freelanders to make safe landfall in the near future. Thousands of worthy fighters begged the gladiator king for the chance to serve under him in this first assault. Alas, the ships could only hold two hundred.
No more, no less.
Angronius handpicked his warriors, almost all of them were former gladiators like him and had fought alongside him since the first uprising at the Reksian coliseum. Most of them had already started their own families, formed bonds with the men and women of Stygia. They had everything to lose, which helped them fight better, which made them the perfect choice for the first assault. The rest were Stygian warriors who had long proven themselves to the gladiator king, among them were the members of Sonjita's warband, the original Eaters of Cities.
He chose Lucretia to lead half of the one hundred warriors, and she boarded one of the vessels on his order. With Minerva, he left the task of of overseeing the construction of more ships to ferry more warriors to Nuceria. Her son, Ionos, would lead the second assault once winter was over. With him, a thousand Stygians would sail the Sodian and add their strength to the beachhead.
Their numbers were their strength in parallel with Angronius' unmatched tactics. They were confident that within a year, they would see Nuceria fall.
On the final day, when all the preparations were made and the vessels were ready to leave the harbor, Angronius said his farewells to the people of the Freelands. He stood upon the uppermost deck of the freedmen flagship, with his wives standing close by. Angronius chose to bring his family along, in light of the attempted assassination that nearly cost him Polgara and Lotara's life. At the very least, he could protect them when they were close by. He looked across the vast sea of people, all of them straining to see him and hear his voice.
"The time has come for us to depart for Nuceria!" The gladiator king addressed his crowd of followers, "Truly, I am sorry that I cannot bring all of you with me on this voyage. But I urge you to take heart, for soon you will join me in the glorious slaughter that is to come."
The crowd erupted in cheers, their minds overtaken by the imagined battles that would take place in the fields of Nuceria.
"In what feels like a lifetime ago, I would never have considered doing this." Angronius continued once their joyful noise died down, "I would have been content to live in peace, safe from the crushing heel of the Empire. Fool that I was, I truly believed that the Nucerians would let us quietly slip away. Now, I know better. Now, my eyes have been opened. You and I, my brothers and sisters from the coliseums, have shown our former masters vulnerable. We have shown them that a trembling hand can become a fist! We have challenged the very idea that a slave must always know its place, because this was the law! We have built their mighty empire with our hands, and our blood and our lives!"
All of his gladiator brethren nodded in agreement, grimly accepting the fact that many of them may die before they see the Empire fall.
"And we will see it fall with equal cost!"
Again, the crowd cheered. The five ships sailed away into the distance until they disappeared behind the dense winter fog settling in over the horizon. The months of waiting would gnaw at them for a time, but many took solace in the fact that once it was over, they would visit their wrath upon their oppressors. And none were as eager as Ionos and his mother.
But alas, the Architect of Fate had other plans.
Five Days Later
Minerva dismissed the workmen in charge of the slag refineries after hearing their report, and she moved on to her son's evaluation on the recent recruits. Young men and women seeking to find purpose in the war god's armies had come to Landfall, and it was her task to guide them to the proper paths. It was a taxing job, but not one that Minerva was unfamiliar with.
"A soft bunch, full of war-pups with milk-teeth and blunted claws." Ionos said concerning the sorry state of the day's batch. Like pups, the new recruits were raw and eager. Farmers and oxen-drivers, blacksmiths and servant-girls. Not a single warrior among them. Therein lay the task to winnow the chaff from the wheat. For the cause, only the strongest should fight their battles.
"We all started out that way." Minerva reminded him, "And you, as the more experienced warrior, should see them grow into war-hounds."
"I am aware, mother. Perhaps we could..."
Minerva waited impatiently for him to finish. When he didn't, she glanced up to see Ionos frozen in mid-sentence. Everyone else in the room was found in a similar state, as though an invisible force suddenly took hold of time itself and slowed its pace till it halted altogether.
"Ionos?" She said, one hand on the dirk hanging from her belt. The woman approached her son and nudged him, hoping to break whatever spell he was under. A fluttering noise of a dozen tiny wings reached her ears, and Minerva whirled around to see a strange man appear before her. Tall and gaunt, wrapped in a feathered cloak, this stranger's cold predatory gaze unnerved the Warmother as she felt the distinct stench of the Warp about him.
"Warriors, to me!" Minerva cried out, unsheathing her dirk.
"They cannot hear you." The stranger said, extending his long and taloned hands in a gesture of neutrality. "But be at peace, noble warmother. I mean you no harm. I am but a messenger, and I only wish to have your undivided attention."
Minerva bristled, "What manner of messenger are you that the Empyrean answers to your beck and call? You are a sorcerer, but not of my kinsmen! So who are you?"
"Why, I am the one who will save the Freelands from certain doom..." The messenger replied, "... if Warmother Minerva would let me. The one who sent me bears a warning, and I implore you that you listen."
"Then speak!" Minerva sheathed her dirk, giving the man a fair Stygian warning. "And pray that I find your message of any worth!"
The messenger nodded, waving his hand over empty air to conjure a pillar of odorless blue smoke. "You would find it of great worth when you hear it from the man himself."
The smoke twisted and rolled like a tiny storm cloud, forming a swirling pillar that gradually took the shape of a man. Soon, Minerva found herself staring face to face with the architect of all her suffering, and she readily grasped the handle of her blade once again. But it wasn't the look of anger that crossed her face. It was fear, for in but one brief moment a thousand maddening memories flooded her mind. Her hands shook, and she trembled before the emperor in spite of her attempts to act otherwise. "Acraesius?"
"Hello Minerva." The general had changed since the last time she saw him. He no longer wore the battered and soiled golden armor he'd brought with him when he led the final assault against her on the green meadows of Stygia. Instead, he wore the regal robes of royalty, born from his dishonorable path to violently seizing power over Nuceria. It was fitting, considering the nature of Nucerians. He was ambition made manifest, "It's been a while..."
Enraged, Minerva picked up her weapon and hurled it at the emperor, finding to her dismay that it passed harmlessly through the cloudy apparition.
Amused, the emperor looked on with disdain at the poor creature. His head shook, and he mocked her for her shortcomings. "Do you not wish you've had the strength to do that the day we last saw each other, you miserable old thing? Why now have you aligned yourself with the rebel Angronius, knowing that it is but a repetition of our own war?"
"This is why you've come?" Minerva said angrily to the messenger who brought them to meet each other, "To taunt me? You must truly be desperate to think that I would-"
"Desperate? No. Lord Fowl has come only to deliver one thing on my behalf. A promise, and you know better than anyone else that I am a man of my word."
A lifetime ago, Acraesius vowed to the gods of his land that he would treat fairly those who submitted and ruthlessly trample all those who opposed him. He fulfilled this vow on both accounts. Minerva had no way to be certain if this man was the same man she fought in the past, but the threat was very much clear.
He could not be trusted. "What do you want?"
"I will be honest, I have grown tired of Stygia and have no intention of wasting any more of my years fighting for a patch of dirt that will always be a thorn in my side. But as it happens, Angronius is set on prolonging this conflict unnecessarily. He will die, along with all those who follow him to the shores of my empire, this is certain. However, you still have a chance to avoid sharing his fate."
"The emperor asks only one thing, that you leave Angronius to his fate. Withhold your forces at the Freeland coast, abandon all attempts to cross the Sodian Sea and return to your homes. For as long as the Empire of Nuceria reigns, the Freelands will remain free. No longer shall her legions march against your people, nor seek to conquer your lands. The bloodshed between Nucerians and Stygians ends today."
"And what if I refuse?"
"Then I will do everything in my power to bring about the destruction of your land. Your men will hang from crosses from the foot of Mt. Khyaltuwa to the coast, your women and children will be sold as slaves, and the earth of that you hold so dear will be covered in salt. The Freelands will be naught but a desert wasteland of dead men and dead gods. So choose, Warmother, the life of Angronius or the lives of your people."
The apparition stirred and dissipated. With his work done, Fowl burst into a dozen screaming crows and flew out of the open window, leaving Minerva alone to contemplate on her enemy's words. She didn't even notice that time resumed its flow once more, and her son Ionos' words fell upon deaf ears.
In her heart, she already made her decision.
Two Months Later
Province of Desh'ea, Northern Desh'elika Plateau
Fedan Mohr
Azaghal screamed as what remained of his left arm burned with immeasurable agony from the toxic chemicals belched from the Nucerian chem-bombs dropped upon the mountain range earlier that day. The dozen men who were with him weren't so lucky, the toxic cloud ate them whole, not even leaving their bones where they stood.
His brother was among the dead, and Azaghal despaired at the thought that he wouldn't even have anything left to bury once those stinging clouds lifted. Some of his friends had gone into the range and dragged him out of the Nucerian killzone to be carried back to camp. From all sides, they were being shot at and bombarded by long-range artillery.
The Nucerians were quick to implement a new strategy to save their legions from shedding their blood. They would hammer the horde into the earth with constant ordnance barrages, flush out the rest with toxic bombardment, then strafe the survivors with fighter-craft. This was a new kind of warfare, one that the Stygians had never seen before.
It reached a point that the horde relied on Angronius to single-handedly fight their battles for them, and what a glorious sight he was when he did. The god of war dominated the legions when they had the rare chance of having to fight him face to face. Beside him fought the furies, the wrathful Sonjita and the graceful Lucretia. Their chain-axes, swords and spears carved through waves of gilded legionnaires. Nucerian blood mingled with the soil of their motherland, and hundreds, even thousands, of souls were sent screaming to the dark gods thirsting beyond the reaches of realspace.
But every engagement proved costly, and the first two hundred who were supposed to provide the beachhead for the main assault on the Nucerian homeland were reduced to less than a third of its original number.
Their momentum slowed when they reached the province of Desh'ea, and they were beaten back to the north side of the plateau of Desh'elika. Forced to weather the indirect attacks of their enemies in the ancient cavernous peak of the great mountain that towered above the rest of the humpbacked ridges surrounding Desh'ea.
This mountain shelter was called Fedan Mohr, an ancient name that predated even the republic of Nuceria. Next to its counterpart, Mt. Khyaltuwa, Fedan Mohr was said to be the cradle of the war god Mars. Such legends were considered heretical and were barely spoken of by Nucerian natives. It was fitting for such a high mountain to serve as the stronghold of the Eaters of Cities, while they waited for the help that would never come.
Angronius' role quickly turned from leader to defender. His forces were beleaguered, exhausted and outnumbered. Every day, he was losing brothers and sisters, and he tried so hard to stem the great flood of casualties his people were suffering. Alas, even he could only do so much.
He took small comfort in the fact that he would not bear this trial alone. His wives were here to support him, and Little Lotara was there to keep everyone's spirits high. The toddler had grown quickly, and it was a sorry state for her to spend the majority of her childhood in the backline of an active warzone. Still, it seemed that it didn't bother the young girl as much as it should have.
It wasn't the ideal upbringing that Polgara wanted for her, but it was all she'd ever have.
The sorceress juggled between patching up the wounded with her spells and saving those closest to death's door with the golden spool of cosmic threads, a gift from the Red Goddess herself. She also saved whatever moments she could to comfort Lotara as well as her father, who would always return to her with a heavy heart.
No one among their company despaired as much as Angronius. Everyone firmly believed that their entrapment at Fedan Mohr was only temporary, and that Angronius would yet again save them all. No matter how many were dying each day, no matter the pain of their wounds, they loved and trusted their leader. They would not break, for they did not fear death.
But for Angronius, he himself did not hold the situation in a similar standard.
On one particularly cold day, as the winter winds brought with them a terrible blizzard that kept both opposing forces at a stalemate, the gladiator king walked to the edge of the narrow pass leading into the mountain shelters of Fedan Mohr. The mountain itself could not be scaled through any alternative passage, save for one which the freedmen fortified into a killer bottleneck. It was the only line of defense they had, and Angronius would die before the Nucerians would break through.
Reinforcements were delayed, for reasons unknown to him. Without them, the beachhead was quickly lost in the weeks following their landfall at the coastland and the freedmen were forced to take the defensive. Supplies were running low, and at the rate of consumption his followers were showing even at the minimum, they would soon starve to death if the deadly winter winds would not take them in their sleep. This was a grave setback to his plan, and it upset Angronius to no end.
He would never stoop to letting his people cannibalize the dead. They were not animals to be slaughtered, they were men- freed men. If they were destined to die, they would die with dignity.
Such a burden weighed heavily on Angronius' mind, and he frequented that particular spot at the mountain's edge. If not to find a means for escape for his people, then to find a short and quick end for them when the blizzard finally ends.
"I thought I'd find you here." Sonjita said as she climbed the rocks to stand next to her husband.
"Hello Sonja." Angronius greeted her, trying hard to mask the uncertainty in his voice with a loving smile. His hand reached out and squeezed the Red Maiden's own, "How are you?"
"I think that question should be reserved for you." The Red Maiden's brow furrowed with concern, "You are troubled, my lord?"
Angronius sighed, not even bothering to dispute her inquiry. "Ah, is it that obvious?"
"Well?" Sonjita reached out and touched his chest to feel the strong beat of his heart against her hand. "Speak and let me share in the burden of your heart."
"I am afraid, woman." Angronius confessed quietly, as though he was ashamed to have ever felt fear. "I am afraid that I've failed you, and that I've damned us all by bringing you all here."
"Why should the god of war fear?" Sonjita chided him gently, "He faces only men, mere saplings before the fury of the hurricane. Trouble yourself not with these thoughts, for while we all yet bear steel in our hands- we are free men. Now come, speak to your people and give them hope."
"Is there any left? Hope?" Angronius said wistfully as he followed her into the caves. They greeted the sentries standing guard at multiple points at the bottleneck, and every one of them bowed their heads respectfully as their god king passed them by.
The caverns were filled with wounded and dying freedmen, all still stubbornly clinging to life with the faintest strands. But at the mere sight of Angronius, many of them found the strength to carry on. No one wished to dishonor their king by dying to their wounds. They preferred to die at the hands of their enemies, or if that too was denied them, they would die by their own hand.
Angronius' heart was touched by their devotion, but it made him all the more certain that this was the end. He couldn't speak the words that would encourage them, to assure them that victory was still within reach. He never got the chance to say them, even if he found the courage to do so.
A bright golden light pierced the blackness of the winter sky, and it struck the ground outside the cavern shelter. Driven by curiosity, the freedmen stirred and made for the mouth of the cave. Angronius went with them, with his wives in tow. They advanced cautiously, fearing that it may be a trap crafted by Nucerian hands.
But the thing that visited them, so far away from any semblance of civilization, was not of their world. It did not come at the behest of Nuceria, but of a higher authority that transcended that of any human power. And when the people saw it, they could not help but quake and tremble in its presence.
Angronius boldly strode to the front of the gathered crowd, and soon he too found himself in awe of what he saw.
He saw a man so impossibly tall that he towered above Angronius. His armor gleamed like polished bronze, and was crafted from an otherworldly element that resembled gold, but was more than gold. And yet it was not the armor that gripped the gladiator king's attention like a tightening noose, it was the visitor's face. The cheekbones, the brown eyes with an unnatural glow of a hidden sun behind them, up to the regal golden wreath adorning his brow. And if he was honest with himself, Angronius could see some distinct features that they both shared, a resemblance.
He felt it, the inexplicable feeling that he'd seen this man before. A dream, or a memory in the furthest reaches of his mind.
The stranger from the heavens turned his eyes upon the crowd of freedmen, and they all knelt from where they stood. For all their power as giants among men, the freedmen felt as though they were but wretches in the eyes of this veritable god. Only Angronius and his wives refused to kneel, and that got the stranger's attention.
He turned to Angronius, then to the sorceress holding his child. Polgara felt afraid to be under his scrutinizing gaze, and she immediately slipped her arm around her husband's. The stranger's brow arched, showing his apparent disapproval. When he saw Sonjita draw closer to Angronius, his disgust grew.
"Who are you?" The gladiator king dared to ask the question.
When the stranger finally spoke, his voice drew palpable waves that resonated through the fabric of reality. It was strangely calming to hear him speak, and all who heard him felt as though his voice was one they've always longed to hear.
"Can't you tell?" He replied, "I am your father, and I've come to bring you home."