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CyAdora
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« on: January 18, 2011, 01:44:15 AM » |
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Armadox the Betrayer, A tale from the reign of Blue Hummingbird, as told by Mencken
That eoo thinks he’s better than me. Better than everyone, maybe.
“It is inevitable that the native kingdoms will fall before us! One kingdom has already fallen, its king nothing but a memory now. In time we shall scour even the memories of these tyrants from the people of Shartak!” Mencken shouted to the assembled listeners, seated around the large campfire. No-one looked welcoming.
If they knew why I was here they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me and defile my remains.
I remembered the King putting his hand on my shoulder, insisting in that soft voice of his that this was a special duty to Raktam. “They may all be dead,” he’d said, “or they may have given up. But they may simply be in hiding, waiting for the right moment to catch us by surprise. The Court needs to know if they’re still out there, and what their plans are.” Then he handed me the symbol of the throne, a shargle-feather quill, and bid me to write when I had news.
At this rate I’ll be here all night before I learn anything newsworthy. I retreated from my thoughts and found that the anarchist leader was still talking in that lumbering voice of his.
“I have called this meeting tonight to bring our members together. Some of you I recognize, others are new to me.” Mencken suddenly jabbed a finger at one of the listeners, a middle-aged native man with strange scarring on his forehead. Or were they birth deformities? “You! What brings you to SOAP?”
“I want to kill the Romulans and take their Queen for myself!” the man said promptly. His accent was Raktami, but with unfamiliar gutteral overtones.
“Good answer!” Mencken barked. He pointed to another. “What do you seek here?”
I shuddered. The thing Mencken had pointed to was a shark-like abomination. When it spoke, it was in a barely comprehensible sibilant screech. “Weee must deeevour those in power. Only weeee cannibals are fit to leeead natives, to deeestroy all the outsiders once and for all. Weee will rule as a council and unite all natives under our rule, and then--”
Mencken made an impatient cutting-off gesture with his hand. “Yes, good! You’ll do great things with us, I’m sure.”
“And you, what will you bring to SOAP?” I saw he was looking at me now.
My mind went blank. “I’m very fond of anarchism,” I replied lamely. “Its ideals seem...good. And, uh...I’ve killed people before; I know I’m good...at that.” My mind suddenly latched onto a tale from my childhood. “One day, native children will fear SOAP. I will become a new scourge to tell stories about.” I’d found my voice, and became more confident. “I will be like Armadox the Butcher reborn!”
“Armadox! You’d compare yourself to Armadox?” He was bellowing at me, while the others were cackling. I fervently wished I’d settled for Ziggyirked, even. Mencken looked like he was having an apoplexy. Behind him, a figure stirred, Mencken’s up-till-now silent second-in-command, who moved to Mencken’s side and whispered something in his ear. The anarchist’s fury subsided somewhat. What he said when he calmed down astonished me, though.
“Armadox was filth. His ideals were meaningless, and he betrayed every killer-born and yet to be born. Do not admire him.” Some of the others contested this, but he shouted them down.
“He betrayed us! All of us! He is not something to fear, but to despise!” The shadowy figure beside Mencken whispered something else to the cannibal, who paused from his rant and nodded truculently. “My adjutant has suggested, in fitting fashion to his own brand of anarchy, that you learn all of what I speak.” He turned and made a ham-fisted gesture to the other listeners. “I shall tell you the story of Armadox, of his treachery, that you may understand his crime in full. Listen well.
Part Two
Blue Hummingbird, Queen of Raktam, rose unsteadily from her throne. She was aware that she was bleeding, and she was aware of the din of voices around her.
“My Queen!”
“Follow him! He will suffer for this insult!”
“How did he slip in unnoticed?”
“He’s Armadox.”
The Queen put out a hand to stop her eager defenders. “We are fine. If he truly meant to harm Us we would be speaking to Najdam by now. This was a message, an answer to a correspondance We began with him months ago. I think he wishes to speak to Us. We will go to him.”
With that, she left the throne room. She hadn’t gone more than a few feet into the jungle when she heard a sound.
She turned. Armadox stepped out of the brush a few feet behind the Queen, his presence as unnerving as ever. When did he start following? His face was a mystery long covered by an over-sized and blood-stained shamanic mask made from some unknown black wood. He carried two blades in his hands, Serenade and Rhapsody. They were usually coated in blood, and now, royal blood.
“You came alone...impressive.” His voice was muffled by the mask, but the Queen noted how pleasant and lilting it is, as usual. It is perhaps his most frightening feature, that such a civilized voice could belong to Raktam’s cruellest nightmare. Well, she could be surprising too.
“Stop being a goose.”
“What do you want?” Armadox asked, his pleasant voice sweetening the rude words.
“You. To serve Raktam as its defender.” She waited. Armadox was silent. She continued, “...are you speechless? Glory awaits your reform. We are ever hopeful the warrior in you will awaken one day.”
“I don’t care for glory...Slitting throats, disappearing into the night, so much better...no need to squabble over alliances, treaties...What can you offer me?”
The Queen began to speak of the troubles between Raktam and Durham, of the expeditionary force that had to be sent out to pacify the land.
Armadox interrupted. “You still bare the miasma of a Scavanger.”
The Queen retorted: “Be outcast, and be a slave to your peers' machetes. Or be a leader of men who would serve at your command in reliance upon your experience. This choice is presented to you... We remember the Scavangers. It tested Us. The rocks were cold to sleep upon. There was never a safe moment, never a brave deed, and never a kind word.”
Armadox laughed. “You will have to do better than to try and woo me with the ideas of honor... There is no honor in obedience...But there is something you can promise me. A body-count. Innocent, sinful...human...all dying to my blade...That is all I want...That is all I need, there is my bread and water...there is my sun...The blood of the kill warms my bones...”
The Queen found her voice. “A body count. Your interests and the interest of the Raktam people might still overlap, then.”
For the first time, Armadox seemed unsure.“I...am...listening.”
“Lead Our forces. We are building a road to war, and all roads are bloody and filled with the corpses of those who would harm Raktam. We cannot drive them into the seas. But We can build a wharf of their bodies.”
A pause. Then, “This is acceptable...Yes...I can see this being fulfilling...I will claim responsibility for the actions of the men under me...all actions...including innocents slain...Any innocents I find in the jungles are mine...I won’t kill in the village anymore...So long as there are people to kill...well...we're on the same team...”
The Queen felt relief wash over her like a rainstorm. “Entirely acceptable.”
Armadox seems to nod, although it’s hard to be sure. “Well then, I guess you have yourself a murderer...I'm going to rest now...When I'm refreshed, I'll leave for the war... I hope that there is enough prey to sate my thirst...”
The Queen holds up a dainty hand. “Wait. One more thing.” She undoes a clasp from her dress. Armadox stands back slightly, as if afraid to be flashed. Instead she removes a feather from a sensitive crevice and hands it to Armadox.
He picks it up gingerly. It has a shorter, more bristly tuft than a parrot, but it has a wider span than any parrot feather. Its base is a light shade of blue, but further up its length it darkens to a crimson shade. The nub has been sharpened to a point, then polished. “Why do you give this to me?”
“To write Us, of course. Use whatever parchment you have available, but keep Us informed by parrot or runner what news there is. For ink you can use...uh...well, We are certain you can find the appropriate source.”
“Yes...there will be lots of ink for this quill where I go.” He fastens the feather to the top of his mask, then without another word, fades back into the jungle. The Queen waited to be sure he had left, then made her way out of the jungle back to her palace.
Part Three
“Do you see now? Do you see what filth he was?” Mencken was practically roaring.
I stared at him, at a loss for words. “I...”
“She made him a subject, convinced him to abandon his ideals. They weren’t much in the way of ideals to begin with, of course, but they were terrifying enough while they were practiced, weren’t they? A killer striking from the jungle, maddened from the loss of all but the most outward signs of civilization, hacking apart anyone and anything?” He paced up and down. “It was years before I learned the truth myself.” He pointed a finger at me. “And the worst part was that he accepted that damn quill! He even wore it on his mask like a badge! A sign of Raktami decadence! The current Queen even took the colours as a divine symbol, the blue dynasty becoming the crimson dynasty.”
“Except for SofaKing and the Grand Tyrant, of course.” Mencken ignored me.
“Do you understand?” He roared at the other listeners, who nodded in agreement. “We can never be like him. Armadox set the standard for all negotiations to follow between the Crown and the Killer. He demonstrated that reconciliation could be sought and won. But there is no reconciliation! Our goals will never align with that of any monarch! We stand apart!”
I nodded reluctantly. Fanatics. They’re all hopeless fanatics. Best kill them all and bribe the elder shamans to keep them out.
Mencken continued to watch me a moment longer than I was comfortable with, then suddenly smiled welcomingly, and put his hand on my shoulder. “Very well. Come forward then, and we shall discuss plans for the destruction of Raktam.” I eagerly leaned forward, and as I did so, Mencken’s hand on my shoulder tightened, and he pushed me bodily over. Before I could stop him, I was in the fire! I struggled to get away, but his hand forced me down. Before my heart burst, I saw his expression out of the corner of my burning eyes.
That eoo...thinks...he’s better...than...me.
When he was satisfied that the spy was dead. Mencken took his hand out of the fire, scowling at the intensive burns. Ignoring the pain, he reached out and flicked the spy’s loincloth open, pulling out the shargle feather-quill. He waved it in the air. “This filth was Raktam’s spy! The feather proves it! I know, because I am Mencken, and I am the cleverest of all the cannibals of Rakmogak, and I see what others miss!” He jabs a charred finger at a random listener. “Now you’ve learned two things: That Armadox was a traitor and there are traitors among us still! For I am Mencken...” He continues to rant long into the night, while the marine-like cannibal surreptitiously begins to snack on the spy’s burnt face.
Behind him, the shadowy figure sighed inwardly. At this rate we’ll be here all night. Well, guess I have time to work on my story. It’ll have to be a good one to win the Queen’s contest. Where to begin...?
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