Chapter 81 - Death And Justice Are Different Gods

"My only virtue is in my sword. It defends the empire, but first, it will defend my family," angrily Michalis stood up, and Alexios did the same. Out of the corner of his eye, the youngest Dalasseno assessed the shocked, hostile, calculating looks in the merchant's room. There was only a slight moment before both men drew their swords. Lex was pulled back by the merchant's hand.

The area around the two warring men cleared in a flash. The hostility between Doukas and Michalis was clear, but there were several other conflicting parties in that small space. Generals, opportunists and loyal fellows, calculating losses and profits quickly.

When the two swords clashed in the air, Lex felt the seething and voracious presence of Death, prowling and waiting for its turn to feast.

Michalis was a superior warrior, and in the third movement he would have the sword in Doukas's neck ... if not for being pierced by the gladius that someone had timely and treacherously plunged into his flank.

Alexios didn't shout. His voice didn't come out of his throat, for he knew at that moment, that Michalis would die that day. Death had come for him and for anyone else who wanted to follow The Lion.

The formidable warrior spun swiftly, cutting off the head of the vile soldier who had delivered this sneaky blow. His blood was gushing and burbling and Michalis breathed heavily, avoiding bending his knee. Michalis swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. It was a serious injury; it was clear. Spinning quickly he parried another blow aimed to his back. This time Doukas laughed, and commanded: "Kill him!"

This dishonored move caused revolt and turmoil among the warriors. Michalis roared and wielded his sword against the Emperor's brother with hatred and disgust in his eyes.

Many drew their swords while Michalis was still fighting Doukas.

But Alexios couldn't see any more. When soldiers turned to the boy, the merchant pushed the Dalasseno behind him, and a huge Nubian slave drew a curtain, pushing Lex in and blocking the passage with his body.

Lex was in a narrow corridor, and heard the screams and roars of fighting behind him. Tears were streaming down his face but he couldn't stop. After several dizzying turns while he kept going forward in the corridor, Lex came to a small door. A young and small slave who barely spoke a known language to the young Dalasseno promptly opened it. Together they ran for several meters on the rocky terrain, to a small stable away.

A man who was cooking his evening meal spoke quickly to the boy in the local dialect, of which Lex only understood a few words. This man, in a matter of minutes, brought a horse and gave the fugitive a skin of water and a piece of goat meat. Pointing the sky and the stars, he gave Lex instructions on how to get to the nearest caravanserai without meeting the emperor's men.

Without thinking too much, Lex wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and left in the cold Cappadocia night, hoping to find his father and Narces before the emperor's men.

After a few hours of riding, Lex was exhausted and so was the horse. Even this part of the Silk Road was dangerous for a single traveler, but this was not his biggest fear. His great concern was not meet his family before they reached Doukas, only to be killed. He saw a tent rock and stopped under it, letting the horse rest.

His frustration and fury broke free in his throat, finally, and Lex cried and bawled, choking on his pain.

In the distance, the young Dalasseno saw through his tears a group of riders on the rocky plain. The one going ahead of them carried a flaming torch, which made a perfect circle of light at the front of the caravan. His eyes went dry when he realized that the group was coming towards him. He didn't have a sword or spear with him, or anything else he could defend himself with.

As the riders got closer, Lex recognized Michalis with the torch, guiding his men. Lex stood with shaking legs.

His warrior brother's Shade maintained a haughty posture despite his bloody death. Lex thought Michalis would stop, but the caravan just passed him slowly. Michalis still stared at Lex one last time, before riding with his men to their Judgement. The ghostly ride continued to cut through the wilderness darkness until it disappeared from view.

The boy had seen everyone's face, and he knew each of their names.

It hadn't been even five minutes after his brother's Shade had passed, leading the loyal men who had died with him, when Lex had seen more knights coming.

Those were alive, though.

And in the back of his mind, Alexios knew that they had seen the procession of souls.

His father and Narces, with their men, reached Lex, and dismounted quickly.

"Are you hurt?" Narces asked, groping him for injuries. Lex nodded no, just whispered, feeling exhausted.

"We have to honor their souls. We have to honor Michalis ..."

He knew that Michalis had guided his family to him, and that they already knew the bad news. His father just passed his hand briefly over his head, and didn't speak to him.

The trio performed the rituals in honor of the dead right there. Their names were recited and no detail, even in a rustic way, was overlooked. A Light Bearer's arrival in the other world would not be neglected.

Lex couldn't sleep, but he accepted Narces' embrace and warmth that night. He wanted to dream about Michalis, and talk to him. Wished to ask for forgiveness for causing his death. But Lex couldn't even close his eyes, without seeing the scene of that bloody dirty soldier digging a gladio between his brother's ribs. The bubbling blood and Death's laughing mouth gaping at the Dalassenos.

Before leaving, in the morning, his father looked him in the eye, and said,

"Alexios, starting today, you will be called Alexa Zoë."

°°°

'Death and Justice are different Gods', Alexa had learned early. She couldn't hope that a duel would be fair, nor that the most skilled warrior would win. Then, when Florian arrived with his pack, the Princess clenched her fists, feeling her nails dig into the flesh. Her palms did not heat up, though. What would happen if Magnus died?

The men stared at each other, and even from a distance Alexa could hear the insults,

"Not all women are like your mother, Florian!" the First Prince outrageously remarked.

"You damn Saxon, I have no choice but to spill your blood. You won't be here to find out how wrong you were!" Florian replied, angry at the offense. Now sober, the blond man looked truly menacing. The spectators moved away, and Magnus was the first to attack.

The swords clashed, and the deadly dance of the swords followed in a tantalizing way. Both were excellent swordsmen, agile and strong. Magnus managed to deliver the first blow, dodging the counterattack. An arch of blood followed his sword's move.

The First Prince laughed, mischievously, as if relishing the sudden weakening of his rival. Florian seemed to halt for a moment, and charged with fury next, head on. His sword came to touch the chest of the Prince, who jumped aside, narrowly escaping. Parrying and fencing, Magnus explored the terrain on his advantage while laughing, mockingly. Florian was skilled and experienced, but was severely wounded. But with a growl of rage and resolve, the Baron chased Magnus and hit him in the back.

Alexa got up behind the rock, alarmed, but just heard the Prince's crazy laugh echo, while Magnus stumbled forward with the jolt of the blow. His sword slipped from his hand and into the rocks at the edge of the cliff. His own blood stained his shirt, and he turned, showing his teeth in a big and devilish grin.

"You mocking devil! Die!" shouted Florian, raising his sword with a crazy bloodshot glare.

Alexa felt death awaiting her tribute, as a beast.

Magnus rose with a frenzied cry, and savagely knocked the Baron to the ground with the impact of his own body. Riding on the other warrior, he tried to take the sword from him, and they both fought fiercely for it. There was no dignity or technique, just strength and survival instinct. The sword fell on its side, forgotten as Magnus pounded the Baron with deep hatred.

Alexa could not help herself and ran closer, watching the Baron lose his strength as a pool of blood formed under him, coming from his first injury. Magnus was sitting on the Polish's chest, panting heavily, when he stopped for a moment, tired,

"Florian ... You party-pooper ..."

"... GRLLMMG ..." it wasn't possible to understand what the Florian's bloody face said. The first Prince, looking now more a beast intoxicated by revenge and dominance, reached for Florian's sword, which lay beside him, and raised it towards the face of his vanquished opponent,

"Some men do die ... by the mouth!" he thundered, his words only broken by the heavy panting.

Alexa closed her eyes, distraught.