Chapter 4

ONAJJ I

The wind hissed through the Choyas Pass. Neshmaikos looked back and saw Mount Khovlayyak's valley stretch to the horizon beneath him. Midday had passed some one or two hours ago, so the sky was still a clear blue field, the atmospheric ocean contrasting the flowing green, yellow, and red of the fields below and the almost marble white of the mountain under his feet. It was a beautiful day, one that would assure his victory.

So why do I feel so defeated? Neshmaikos dropped his gaze to his body, to his sword and shield and tightly bound armour. The finest iron for the blade and rim of the shield, Aidaya's living wood for their handle and centre respectively, and gold-studded Krokhhide for his garments. Even the greatest of Iada's Guardians would envy him. They envied Kudhaikos, too. He recalled the reason he was here, the conflict that had become his life's work.

Back when the valley was united, when the archon Osteios ruled from his seat atop the mountain and threw his power across the lands beneath and the Diedayeva Islands, all the way to the Kreika, the northern river separating the realm of people from that of beasts, there was peace. Not a lull between wars, not a time of unrest rife with the gathering of rebellions and proclaiming of so-called 'true rulers.' No, there was true peace. Osteios' grandfather had fought to unite the tribes of men, and his father had fought to keep them together, all so that he may rule them all. And he'd done a good job for the last thirty years. Peace and prosperity, his words were, and not a whisper of war.

It allowed people to thrive and travel to places they'd never been able to get to before. It allowed for two strangers, separated by countless rivers, hills, and mountains to meet in a young, developing village. And it allowed them to thusly fall in love, and give birth to a child they named Neshmaikos, after the old grandfather who had put this whole thing in motion. Oeyala, the village was named, not too long after his birth, for it had become a large and prosperous enough settlement to warrant a spot on the map.

Somewhere around that time his life had begun. He'd finally grown enough to understand his place in the world, to be able to enjoy the subtleties of life. Playing with the other children, running through the flowery grass fields and sleeping under the night's canopy in summer. That he enjoyed most. Although alone and quiet, those nights spent gazing into the great mural above stuck in his heart, and remembering them made his heart ache. Ache for home, for those lukewarm windy nights. Ache for the peace that he'd once known.

Yes, the peace that had once been. The very one he was trekking up this mountain for. Neshmaikos put his thoughts to the side for a moment, and pushed on. One foot in front of the other, he marched in a steady rhythm, over rocks and bushes, following the old secret road he'd been advised to take. 'Like brothers entwined, the fates run almost neck to neck, yet never glimpse the other. One of them is old and decrepit, though it will live long enough to meet it's lost sibling.' That was what the Oracle had told him, and what led him to discover this forgotten path with the help of a local shepherd. It was just undercliff of the heavily guarded main path, either shrouded by the fauna or the cliff itself, yet far enough apart that the sound of grunts and footsteps did not reach over. Neshmaikos looked up towards the white mountaintop, towards the great temple of the archons. He remembered Osteios, the warm old man he'd met back in Oeyala.

He walked with a cane and seemed to be constantly chewing on a marblefruit, yet he still commanded respect from those around him. Not because they feared his retribution, but because they admired his dedication to ruling well and ensuring the peace is kept. The children loved him, too. He'd always have some odd sweets for them. Though we only got our share once. Neshmaikos had been playing in the streets with his friends when the archon crossed their path. He remembered his smile, the kind that spread the warmth of his kindly soul to everyone who saw it. The old man did always care about the children.

Which was unsurprising, considering he'd been unable to produce any. Or any that lived, at least. The only child of his that made it past birth was a golden boy who passed away in the crib. His death sent his mother over the edge and into a spiral of insanity, and marked the last attempt the archon made to preserve his line. Natally, at least. Some years after his last child passed, Osteios took a liking to an orphan he'd met in a small settlement near the Kreika, and brought him back to his court with ambitions to make the boy his successor.

The archon treated the new boy well, which inspired the boy to treat others well, which led to him trying and failing to make good with the old mother, which led to her spreading great rumours about him. 'He's half a beast.' 'A witches child. glamoured to look human...' Neshmaikos had heard the accusations himself. And it seems the boy did, too, for he grew bitter and angry as a result of him getting shunned wherever he went. Eventually, he took up permanent residence in the mountain temple, avoiding the company of anyone but Osteios.

Osteios eventually passed, and the boy made a move to become archon, but he was much disliked among the populace, and the old mother had spread dissent among the highest ranks. She thought she could take power and crown herself archon, but things turned out differently, as they so often do. The generals and administrators came to blows over the spread of territories, which quickly escalated into open conflict. The old mother tried in vain to stop it, but she was powerless, and her once subordinates now tried to have her assassinated. In a last moment of defiance, she took her own life by jumping off the great mountain and into the rocks below, writing in her final letter: 'May you all face the fate of my children.'

The generals gathered their men, the administrators rallied militias and mercenaries, and war engulfed the valley, as if there had never been any peace. Maybe Osteios wasn't that good a ruler. Not that I'd blame him. The deaths of his children probably affected him almost as severely as they did his wife. Oeyala had no walls, and no fighting population. It quickly found itself underfoot of many passing warbands, with little hope of survival. Though even that little bit had went up in flames with the village. It had pushed Neshmaikos over the edge. He grabbed a sword, slew some of the monsters that had seen fit to burn his home, and made for the horizon, planning to live out the rest of his days hunting soldiers and commanders. He'd eventually come across an old hermit who would spare him of that fate, and set him on the path that led him here, trying to win back the peace.

Much as Neshmaikos had become an active player in this game, so had the old boy that Osteios took in. He declared himself Kudhaikos the Monstrous, and with the help of an army-for-hire, had managed to subdue many lands close to the mountain. He'd continued warring and conquering, and promised to reunite all the lands of man. He played into the reputation he'd gotten with his name, but he rectified it with his deeds. Some had even started calling him a hero. Others had taken to demonizing him even more, for any rebels were put down brutally under his rule.

And so the valley stood, disunited and constantly fighting. Not for long. Once I defeat Kudhaikos, I'll... I'll...

What would he do? He'd been told all along the journey that he would bring peace once more after he'd gotten rid of the monster atop the mountain, but how would he do that? Would he take control of Kudhaikos' lands? Would he gain some sort of magic power? It made no sense. Any way he looked at it, Neshmaikos was going against peace. They'd all told him, the old hermit, the Oracle, Aidaya, the Great Thinker...

Lived in a theatre, Aidaya ruled a hidden city under her own jurisdiction, the Oracle's temple was built by the locals, and the old hermit was far too clean to have lived in a cave for decades! Neshmaikos stopped in his tracks. They all had their own interests to protect. They all would profit more if there was disunity, independence for their own. The hermit was likely some manipulator sent to trick me! Make me an agent of those who want to undermine peace! A shock went up his spine. He'd realized all this at the final moment, just a step away from the mountaintop.

I... am... fighting against... against peace... NO! No, it isn't true! And even if it is, Kudhaikos cannot be left to rule! He is far to cruel, far to monstrous to be archon! I must bring him down, and I must take control for myself in order to bring peace! With renewed vigour, Neshmaikos continued towards the temple, where a dozen guards were stationed. Kudhaikos' veterans, no doubt. Even so, he cut them down with ease. Though it alerted the soldiers guarding the path, so he had little time to spare. Neshmaikos slammed open the temple doors and sprinted to the throne. He stopped a few steps short of it.

The hall was great and painted in murals depicting the history of the archons. A new portion was being added, clearly based off of Kudhaikos' conquests. The painters turned towards Neshmaikos, shocked. But he paid them no mind, no, he looked at the throne, where, surrounded by a few advisors and generals, sat Kudhaikos. Far too large to be considered normal, and with a furious jet-black beard growing over his chest, the archon-to-be lifted his gaze to meet Neshmaikos', his eyes like black pearls.

Almost immediately, the generals grabbed their swords and spears, but Kudhaikos waved them down. "Who are you? What do you want?" He said with a low, growly voice. "My name is Neshmaikos. I have come to end your reign. In the name of peace!" Neshmaikos replied, and a tense silence fell over the temple. Kudhaikos broke it by laughing.

"In the name of peace? Pah, boy, I am the peace. The only ruler who cares about it, at least." Neshmaikos gathered his courage again. "I will not deny that. Out of all the competing pretenders, you keep the greatest peace." Kudhaikos grinned and leaned back in his chair. "But you keep it by fire and blood! You put everyone who disagrees or raises suspicion to your excellence to the torch! Your peace is no peace at all, I say, for it is derived from fear, and not the inspiration of kindness in others!"

"Watch your mouth, boy!" One of the advisors shouted, but Kudhaikos shushed him down. "You presume too much of yourself. How is one man like you going to defeat me and my generals?" "The same way I defeated the guards outside. Unless you'll agree to fight me man to man." Kudhaikos scratched his beard, then stood up and grabbed a shield and spear from behind the throne and had one of his generals lace up his helm. Then he stepped forward and put his guard up. "Fine, I'll humour you, but only because I dislike denying a dead man's last wish." The generals chuckled at that, but Neshmaikos remained undeterred. "I know a few kids that can't attest to that." He said, and dashed towards Kudhaikos, shield forward.

The big man met him with his own shield, bashing Neshmaikos aside with a force he hadn't expected. He really is half a beast. The young challenger changed his approach, and opted to slide to his opponent's side, slashing at his shield arm. Kudhaikos turned quickly, and thrust towards him, but Neshmaikos brought up his shield and deflected the blow to the left. Then he swung hard, and left a great mark across the pretender's shield, who took a step back, eyeing his enemy.

He's watching now. I made him stumble, and he's finally realized how much of a threat I really am. Should I be, though? He wants peace, just as I, we could maybe work things out. I could temper his wrath with kindness...

Kindness. That was the thing that was direly missing from the whole story. It seems the only one with any kindness in him had been Osteios, a hopeless romantic in a cold and uncaring world. If they'd all just listened to each other, heard everyone out... Peace... Peace might have been achieved. Or never brought down, in the first place.

Kudhaikos lunged forward, shoving his spear down from over his shoulder. Neshmaikos brought up his shield again, but this time the spear suddenly slipped to the right, towards his head. He threw himself to the side, rolling away from death. Kudhaikos thrust again, but now Neshmaikos slammed his shield into the spear, sending it high away. Then he slashed again, hit the shield, stepped aside, and thrust his swordpoint into his opponents shoulder. Kudhaikos drew blood, but he also stepped aside quickly enough for it to be ineffective. Neshmaikos stepped back now.

Is kindness the key here? Compassion? It makes sense. In order to establish peace, I should make foes to friends and show them the kindness they might have never felt! He'd been grunting the entire time, but now Neshmaikos spoke up. "How was she?" Kudhaikos kept his guard up, but looked at him questioningly. "Who?" "You know. The old mother. I don't imagine she was all too welcoming. Probably downright cruel."

Kudhaikos growled. "You know nothing." "Do I need to know much? You were taken in by a kindly old man and raised to be kind to everyone, as he was." They were carefully circling each other as the words rang out across the great room. Neshmaikos continued. "Then you tried to approach the broken mother, who shunned you, and made sure everyone else did, too. And you tried and tried, but everyone seemed to dislike you, so you gave up on kindness, and switched to cruelty instead." "Shut up, boy."

"You started out differently, but you grew to be just like those who stirred this war up, broke the peace. But you at least know what kindness is." Neshmaikos thought for a moment, about what a kind ruler would look like. He thought of Osteios, but he also remembered his failings. A kind ruler. One that ensures that kindness is reflected in the people... He thought of a lake, surrounded by many people, the water reflecting them all to themselves. The people... The people! If the rulers are people who must be kind to each other, then the people will be, too! The people should rule, many, not one! That way kindness will be mandatory by default!

"Well? Have you lost your guts?" Kudhaikos taunted, and snapped Neshmaikos back from his thoughts. "No, but I believe you have." "What?" "I believe you lost your kindness as a result of never receiving any when you were trying to give out so much. I believe that you want to be kind, deep in your heart, and bring about a true peace, the same Osteios tried to uphold. And I believe we can do that together, not just you and me, but all the people, ruling as many." "Enough of this. I'll have your head!" Kudhaikos exclaimed, and charged.

Every muscle in his body screamed for him to guard, to brace for impact, but Neshmaikos fought against it, and threw his weapons to the side. "Then take it! Take my head, kill me, and any hope or desire for peace and kindness along with it!" He stood as tall as he could, threw his arms wide, and stared into Kudhaikos' eyes. The big man stopped just short of killing him. "You... Would die, for this?!" Neshmaikos nodded. "Yes! And I know you would too, even if you deny it. Please, Kudhaikos, I ask you not as an enemy, but as brother. Let us put aside our differences, throw off the burdens of the past. Let us make a new way of ruling, where people do so for each other."

A dead silence fell. Kudhaikos looked conflicted. He was thinking fiercely, no doubt. Then his eyes shot up and met Neshmaikos'. He stared for what seemed to be an eternity, then threw his weapons aside and moved to embrace his once opponent. Neshmaikos felt relieved. "Thank you." Kudhaikos slapped him on the shoulder. "Thank you, for showing me that true kindness is still alive in this world." The generals looked shocked. "What are you looking at? You're on my payroll, so you better listen to what I have to say! From today on, we shall listen to our enemies, hear out their plight, or if it involves the suffering of others, hear out the plight of their subjects and help them! We shall do as this boy has done, and dare to bring peace unto this land, even if it costs us our lives!" Kudhaikos cheered, and the generals joined him, as they had to. "Well then, Neshmaikos, where do we start?" The big man offered a hand to Neshmaikos. He stared at it briefly, them firmly took it and said: "Here, where the archons once sat. Leave the temple. Let the seat of power be moved down into the valley, where everyone may have free access to it. Let no more lone men rule from this tall rock."

So they all cheered again, their voices echoing across the hall and across the skies. Their voices were heard everywhere low and thrumming, high and shrieking, peeping. Peeping...

Onajj slammed down on her phone. The familiar alarm sent needles up her spine with its shrill tone. It was not a comfortable way to wake up, but it was an effective one. The clock had barely passed early morning time, Onajj saw as she held the holohalf display over her face. Normally, she'd rise out of bed right away and tend to herself, but today she felt dazed. I was... Neshmaikos, going up the great mountain. Thinking of his journey. There was a numb pressure in her head, like she'd been flexing her brain.

Of all the people I could've been, it had to be that moron Neshmaikos. He had such immense power in his palm, and he gave it away. Instead of leading them, as he deserved after all his sacrifice, he left it all to the commoners. Onajj rubbed her eyes and massaged her temples, hoping the weird feeling would go away. It was too strong to warrant inaction, and she certainly didn't need some dream-migraine throwing her schedule in disarray. Not that her schedule was that weak. She'd made sure to account for human error when planning it.

The numbness in her head subsided a bit, and Onajj quickly got out of bed. She slipped out of her nightgown and wandered into her bathroom naked. In front of the mirror, she stopped briefly to look at her face. It was filled with pillow marks, which took her aback, since she'd made sure long ago to condition herself into sleeping straight. Bad omens? No. Just a bad night. I shouldn't have allowed myself a drink with Qui. The shower doors opened with a slight whizz, and Onajj entered, only to be shocked by cold water for the first time in years. Another thing she'd conditioned herself on. She grumbled a bit, but continued her routine.

After a refreshing shower, she went back to the mirror and started tending to her skin. First her face, cleaning under her eyes and around her nose, then further up, applying some skin freshener on her head ridges. She finished up by rubbing some softening milk across her neck. Onajj didn't wear any makeup, because it was off-putting to her and because she didn't need any, anyway. Her birth had ensured her a naturally beautiful complexion. Mostly smoke-white with some grey around the joints and muscles, dotted all around by small black dots of varying size.

After applying all the skincare, Onajj snuck a quick glance at her nipples, then gave a quick smile before stepping back to admire the rest of her body. Slim and tightly muscled, shaped to perfection. Men want me, women want me, everything outside and inbetween wants me, even if they're too afraid to admit it. Even Siecha looked at me with excitement. Onajj bit her lip. The thought of her boss, high and mighty as she was, feeling a burning sensation between her legs at the sight of Onajj put her into the mood hard. She imagined all those close around her on their knees around her, clinging to her legs with lust and desperation in their eyes. I've got them aaaaaaaaaaall at my feet... A few moments and a few fingers later, Onajj locked her bathroom door, shut the window, dimmed the lights, and put the shower into mist mode. Propped up against the wall and with a hot fog surrounding her, Onajj indulged her fantasies.

"Guuuuhhh..."