Aurix the Bold

From the highest tower of the castle of Glynn, Xu’ul gazed down upon the construction of his new castle. His present accommodations simply would not do for one as magnificent as he. The progress was slow—much slower than he wanted or expected. It had been nearly four revolutions since he’d first demanded it be built, and the ineptitude of the masons and slaves irritated him. He watched as the crimson quarry stones were moved in, the smaller by carts strapped to braka, the larger rolled along timbers until they were able to be moved into position. From his vantage, everything crept along, impossibly slow.

Xu’ul turned away from the sight, disgusted. “Why is it taking so long?”

Beside him, his regent turned from the window with his king and shook his head slowly.

“Such things take many revolutions, my Ra. But surely the slaves can be worked harder, longer.”

“This is insanity. I have the tools to build it myself much more quickly. The Sword to rend the bloodstone from the quarry, the Gauntlets to carry them, the Boots to move them at speed.”

“Yes. But you are Ra. These jobs must never fall to you, Majesty. It is for the people to honor you with their efforts.”

“This does not honor me,” Xu’ul countered. “It disgusts me. It is a disgrace.”

“I agree, Majesty. I shall discuss the lack of progress with the masons and assure they understand your displeasure.” Neither needed to say that one of the masons would die as an example to the others. It was understood.

“What is the progress on the other Relics? Once I have them all, I will have no need for these miserable subjects. I will erect a castle suitable for my Godhood in an instant.”

“Banjax is leading a squad to Grimvale by stag, my Lord. It will take them several days to get there. He has all of the information we have received from the Raspula and the legends, but it will likely take some time for them to locate Ulixes’ Helm. It could take as much as a month for them to return.”

“And if they do not locate it?”

“They know not to bother returning empty handed, Ra.”

Xu’ul nodded. “And the Shield? The Tear?”

“There are many loyal Valerians looking on your behalf, trying to discover their locations. But once we have the Helm, none of that will matter, Majesty.”

Xu’ul’s massive fist shot out and struck Ralin’s cheek with an audible crack. Ralin dropped to a knee in instant subjugation, his head bowed. Blood trickled from his mouth, and his jaw sat at a strange angle. “Forgive me, Ra Xu’ul. Once you have the Helm. There is no we.”

“Only Me. Do not forget, Ralin, you serve only at My pleasure.”

“I have not forgotten, Majesty.” Ralin licked the blood from his lip. “It was an unfortunate slip of the tongue.”

Xu’ul curled a finger upward and Ralin rose.

“Every Valerian should be groveling at my feet to build this castle for Me.”

“Yes, Ra, they should,” Ralin said, his head bowed.

“Do they not revere Me? I allowed them to live. Do they not fear Me? I killed all who stood against Me. They should all kneel as you do.”

“And they shall, Majesty. The God-Forged still give some of them hope. Once you possess them all, they will have no choice but to kneel. All of the leaders of every town on the map have yielded to your benevolence already. But it is impossible to know the minds of every Valerian. Until, of course, you possess the Helm.”

“What of the treasury?”

“The taxes you have imposed have filled the coffers. You could build five bloodstone castles, Majesty.”

“Excellent. We shall wait until they are all desperate and destitute. Then, for those that kneel, we will buy their fealty back with their own money.”

“You are most generous, Ra Xu’ul.”

“Yes. I am. But I am still unhappy with the progress on the castle, Ralin. Will you accompany Me to the site?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Of course, Majesty. I am always at your disposal.”

Xu’ul walked down the spiral steps, closely followed by his regent. They stopped at the King’s chamber. Inside, a vault the size of a man and made of bloodstone had been erected to house the Relics. By way of incredibly powerful and unbreakable flux, only Xu’ul had access to the vault. Once the flux had been wrought, Xu’ul had all of its casters killed. No one else would ever possess the God-Forged.

While his Ra accessed the vault inside, Ralin waited outside and gingerly pressed at his swelling jaw. He did not think it broken, but it was painful nonetheless. He admonished himself again for speaking so stupidly, and was grateful that Xu’ul compensated him well enough to afford the flux to repair such injuries, frequent as they were.

When Xu’ul rejoined his regent, he wore the Sword of Rhexis on his hip and the Gauntlets of Maximo covered his forearms to the elbow. The air moved and shimmered and whirled around the Relics. Ralin was always a bit dizzied by the sight and kept his eyes averted.

Xu’ul held an arm in front of his face and watched serpentine wisps encircle and enfold it. “They are far too plain,” he said aloud. “Once I have obtained them all, I think I shall remake them. Adorn them with jewels and dynox more befitting my majesty.”

Ralin considered his words carefully. “A noble pursuit, my Ra, though all the jewels and dynox in Valeria could never equal your magnificence. Perhaps that is why the Gods did not even try.” He thought Xu’ul seemed pleased with his response.

They stepped out into the afternoon. Nova was just beginning her rise behind a thick canopy of clouds and the sky was taking on the appearance of cotton soaked in blood. Xu’ul walked across the damp grounds behind the castle with the regent trailing a few steps behind. One of Xu’ul’s strides was the equivalent of three of Ralin’s—and to be sure, most men’s—and he always had to move at a near run to keep up.

The masons saw the Ra’s approach and began shouting commands rabidly at the slaves. Everyone moved with increased urgency, but there was no obvious change in progress. Several tons of bloodstone did not easily comply with the mere desire for haste.

“Halt!” Xu’ul shouted. His voice seemed to roll along the underside of the clouds like thunder.

All progress ceased instantly. Even the long convoy of braka hauling to and from the distant mine stopped at once. The beast’s heads all drooped in unison with the reprieve. Two collapsed with exhaustion, spilling their riders to the ground. Their throats were promptly opened, and their blood muddied the dirt beneath them.

The three masons in charge hurried into the shadow cast by the façade of the castle to greet the Ra. They were dwarfed by the gleaming red wall behind them, which stood nearly twenty feet high. They knelt as Xu’ul approached, their right hands closed into a fist at their left shoulders, in salute. The slaves followed suit. Ralin felt the ground vibrate beneath his feet as four thousand knees struck the earth at once.

“Ra Xu’ul! Glorious Lord!” the masons said in unison.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ralin demanded on behalf of the king. “Why do you dishonor your Ra in this way?”

The three engineers looked at one another, terrified, and then bowed their heads in disgrace.

The lead engineer spoke. “We mean only to honor His Excellency. He is displeased?”

“How could he not be, you numb quat? Do you think this progress?”

“We can do better, Ra. Forgive us. Have mercy.”

“You do not deserve his Majesty’s mercy. You deserve to be hung by your entrails to serve as an example.”

The youngest mason’s body began to shake as he wept in fear.

“It is as you say, Regent,” the leader spoke. He sighed. “But the fault is mine alone. These two men work only as hard as I have pushed them. It is not they that have failed you, Ra Xu’ul. It is I that has failed them.”

“Then they should have killed you and lain your worthless body at the Ra’s feet,” Ralin said.

The lead mason appeared sick, his face ashen. He had the resigned look of a condemned man. “Perhaps so, milord. But they knew not. Forgive them. Who shall build a castle worthy of your eminence, my Ra, if not them?”

Ralin opened his mouth to speak, but Xu’ul held out his hand to silence him. “Yes, who?” he shouted. “Who among you can do better than these miserable foons?” His voice seemed to carry over the miles. Even those too distant to hear quickly knew from those in front of them what the Ra had asked.

It was an impossible question, Ralin knew. Failure to answer suggested none were worthy of the honor before them; answering would almost certainly carry an eventual and likely painful death.

For a moment there was only the sound of carrion birds above, impatient to feast on the fallen braka below. Then a few brave souls began to rise from the crowd of slaves.

“I,” said a Nulla. Filthy clothes hung in tatters from his gaunt and sunsburned body. Like most of the savages of that region, he was diminutive, hairless and had teeth that had been filed to razor sharp points over many revolutions of his youth by his parents. As a species they were fleet of foot and possessed great stamina—for that reason they made excellent slaves. And, like all Nulla, his corneas were pure white, with pinprick pupils.

A Raspula had also risen. “I, Ra Xu’ul. I can do better.” Drool hung from her lips in long strings, and her voice hissed like the sound of knives being honed. She wore little, her gray skin cracked and oozing. A viscous white globule trickled down her neck from an open wound on her cheek as she spoke, leaving a raised welt and a thin tendril of smoke in its wake.

In minutes the afternoon was filled with the shouts of hundreds of slaves, begging for the chance to rectify the failures of the masons, or die trying.

Xu’ul held his arm out, and the cacophony of voices fell silent instantly. He drew the Sword of Rhexis from its scabbard and pointed it at the lead mason. “There is your answer you useless pustule. Even your own slaves know that they could better honor me without you.”

“They know not—”

“Silence!” Xu’ul roared. He trembled with rage. “We shall find out.” He raised the Sword high over his head and brought it down, striking the ground in front of his feet.

The earth split apart, the shimmering blade buried to the hilt in dirt and stone. A chasm several feet across and at least four feet deep burst from the epicenter of the blow and spread toward the unfinished castle. In seconds the three masons had fallen into the rift in a tangle of broken limbs and screams. The world quaked. The red castle shifted as if a giant hand had gripped it from the top and twisted. Gaps appeared in the stone as it began to crumble, then collapse. Thousands of tons of bloodstone fell, crushing slaves and falling into the crater opened by the Sword. The screams of the masons fell silent as they were buried under the avalanche. Dirt plumed skyward. Braka, Raspula, Nulla and man alike brayed and wailed as the earth shook and shifted beneath their feet. Many tried to run, but there was nowhere to go and most fell to the ground with the violent bucking.

The sound was deafening. In the distance, boulders cascaded down the sides of mountains. Trees snapped and toppled. It was as if Valeria itself was roaring in pain and protest.

Ralin spread his legs and held his arms out in front of him in an effort to keep his balance in the tumult. He looked to his Ra, wondering how he might best protect him, but Xu’ul appeared to be entirely unaffected by the quake. He was firmly rooted in place, still gripping the Sword embedded in the ground with both hands. As everything else trembled, the Sword and Ra alone stood firm.

The quake lasted only a few moments, but for those near the epicenter, it felt like time without end. The first sign that it was subsiding was the cloud of dust that finally began to dissipate. Then the quakes became quavers, the tremors trembles, and the shakes shudders.

Thousands of ears rang; some would never hear again. Hundreds lost their lives. Dozens lay bleeding and broken and screaming in pain. Only one looked out upon the devastation with a smile and a crazed look in his eyes.

“Now prove yourselves,” Ra Xu’ul bellowed as the earth finally stopped moving. “Revere me adequately or die in disgrace with your failure.”