A New Dawn Read online

  “But how did the Black find them?” I asked, more to myself than to my friend.

  Cestia finally spoke: “They must have followed us the last time we came here. Remember?”

  I did recall the time Cestia and I rode our horse all the way from the Black forests to this secret sanctuary. We were so lucky to be alive we had been careless. We must have served up the Red straight to the Blacks. Overwhelmed, with nowhere to run in that canyon, the attack was no doubt as short as it was bloody.

  “So that’s why the Blacks came to attack Crodya and Doryca!” I said. “They were following us. And when they found the Red, they split their army into two. One half remained here to carry out their evil work while the other attacked the Orange and Yellow. That’s why their numbers weren’t as strong as when they attacked Samaris.”

  “But if that’s the case,” added Sitria, “where is the other half of the Black army now?” No one had cared enough to ask that question when we forced them into a retreat that surprised us as much as them.

  “Probably attacking other territories,” I said. “They were so sure of defeating us they probably never even gave a thought to the welfare of their other legions. By this time, I have no doubt they’ve regrouped with the cowardly murderers of the Red from the chasm.”

  “Then we must seek them out,” hissed Daerec. “And crush them once and for all.”

  A dark expression stole across his face. I was so worried about Cestia I had not realized that he, too, must be suffering at having seen the last of his nation humiliated in such a way, even if they were the Ashis he reviled. And as much as Daerec didn’t want to admit it, beneath his Janis robes, beat the heart of a proud Red.

  “They will most likely attack the Violet, next,” said Cestia in her same, emotionless tone.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “It is the only other nation left that would oppose them,” she said. “The Blue are not warriors at heart. They are traders. They wouldn’t pose any threat to the Black… but the Violets…”

  “The Violets are merchants as well, not warriors!” I reminded her. “What threat could possibly come from a nation that sells spices and silks?”

  “You do not know them well, Asheva.” She said. “It is true, they are merchants, but they are tougher Chromes than the Blue. They are proud and independent. And they would die rather than be slaves of another color. At least that is what my father used to tell me.”

  I thought of my past encounters with the Violets. I had known but two merchants — Jhute and Zimdie — and yes, they had come across as fearless, self-contained explorers, but they were good chromes who chose to befriend me. Zimdie even gave me some of their precious robes and powders before we parted. But I had also seen the darker side of the Violets when we escaped from Samaris with Daerec and the other merchromes. The Violets set poisonous butterflies against us in the wake of a strange, intoxicating smoke. Would we be given the same reception if we beat the Blacks into their territory? There was only one way to find out.

  “We must form another alliance,” I said to Cestia. “We shall go and see the Violet.”

  30. Return to Samaris

  We rode away from the Orange mountains and set course for Violet territory, just as Cestia suggested. I do not know whether it was an unconscious decision made by the Red princess but, inevitably, our journey would take us through the Red Kingdom where we would be confronted once more by what remained of its city, Samaris.

  I was also concerned that we might run into the Black army before we were ready to fight them. After consulting with Sitria and Ddeko, I decided to have four groups of horsed guards take point on every flank of our army to serve as our eyes and ears. Fortunately, most of the Red territory consisted of flat plains. Any surprise attack by the Blacks would be difficult to pull off during the day. But I anticipated the coming with wariness.

  “We’re not safe passing the night here in the plains,” I said to Ddeko. “The eyes of a posted watch are limited by how dark it gets here. The Blacks could easily finish us during our sleep.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” he asked.

  I glanced at Cestia before replying. “We should make our way into Samaris and camp there. It would be easier to defend ourselves behind walls.”

  “If the Reds weren’t able to defend themselves when the walls were still intact, how do you expect us to defend ourselves amongst their ruins?” asked Sitria.

  “We were ambushed. The Black broke the Collective Laws,” hissed Cestia. “That’s why they were able to massacre us.”

  “Cestia is right,” said Daerec. “This time would be different. We are an army and we are all eagerly waiting for the Blacks to strike so we can pay them back.”

  “And the ruins would give us a better line of defense compared to the Blacks who would be out in the plains.” I reiterated.

  Everyone concurred. We turned east toward the ruins of the massive Red city that dominated the sea. Viewed from the plains, it seemed even more desolate. When we finally reached the imposing rock on which the city had been erected, the first thing that struck us was what remained of the towering statues of Adio and Adia. The guardian gods of the city had been pulverized by the catapults of the Blacks. Half of Adio’s head lay on the ground. Only the marble feet of Adia remained upright. I then looked up at the top of the mountain, where the castle once stood and saw that nothing remained of it. The mighty stone tower that stood unbowed for centuries as a symbol of Samaris had been reduced to a pile of rubble.

  “Where did you bury your father?” I asked Cestia.

  She did not reply. Instead, she lowered her head.

  “Cestia?”

  “I don’t want to go see him,” she said. “I let him down. I… let everybody down.”

  “Cestia, you can’t—”

  “I brought the Blacks to where the last of the Reds were hiding,” she continued, as if she were no longer speaking to me but to herself. “My world has crumbled before my eyes. And what have I done about it? Nothing — absolutely nothing. I merely watched, helpless, as all that I cared for has been destroyed. I am the last of the royal family and I will probably be the last of my kingdom. I didn’t do enough to preserve it.”

  “What could you have done?” I replied. “Everything changed so quickly. Perhaps this was the will of the gods.”

  She looked at me, eyes shining with fury, and then pointed to the city. “You think that this was the will of the gods? What had we Reds done to make them so angry at us?”

  I looked out at the ruins before replying. “Maybe the gods were angry with the way our world was. I don’t know.”

  I then reached out and caressed her cheek gently. “What I do know is that none of this is your fault.”

  She nodded and tried to smile, but her indigo eyes filled with tears. I then hugged her tight, wishing I could somehow alleviate her pain, but I knew that would be impossible.

  “Do you want me to take you to him?” she finally asked. It seemed more like a plea.

  I nodded. During the battle of Samaris, I had avenged Chtomio by killing his assassin, the corrupt Red Minister Oris. Yet in the convoluted moments that followed our fight, I was forced to run away from the castle like a thief, never having the chance to pay a final tribute of respect to the one chrome who had saved my life and probably my soul.

  Our horses slowly wended their way through hilly, cobbled streets. How I had envied its inhabitants when I had lived outside these walls! I had longed for the sweet and tangy perfume of citrus and the sweet, soothing chimes of the musical fountains that echoed throughout the terraces for the benefit of the wealthy every night! Now this bastion of Red culture was gone – replaced by rocks and decay. It could never return to its ancient splendor, I thought, because its creators were now gone. Or maybe it would; through new blood and new love. I tried to locate the checkered marble courtyard where Cestia and I danced and my thoughts flew back to the first time I beheld her – a vision in silver, gold
and red, her mask adding to her mystery, during the feast of the candles.

  “Cestia,” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “I know you are going through a lot of grief right now but…I just want you to know that not a day passes when I don’t thank the gods for that night that we first met.”

  She smiled and blushed. “So do I.”

  “Even now, even in this misery, I am thankful because you are here. If I died right now, I would die in peace, knowing that I had met you and…grew to love you so deeply.”

  “Don’t say that! You won’t… we won’t die!” She reached out for my hand. We rode close, encouraging our two horses to brush up against each other.

  When we reached the top of the mountain, we discovered that the grounds were peppered with craters, having been shelled by the Blacks’ catapults. Between two of these holes was a newly quarried, white, marble slab. At first glance, it looked like just another ruin.

  “We Red buried our loved ones in the cave underneath Samaris, but after the cave was sealed in the attack, we had to bury my father here.”

  She then kneeled close to the tomb and burst in tears. “I think he would’ve liked being out in the open. That way, he could watch over the kingdom that once was his.” I knelt close to her and prayed in silence for my friend Chtomio, king of the Reds and king of the Harlequins. What would he have said, if he could see his dream fulfilled – that I had indeed become the infamous Red Harlequin? And where were all the other Harlequins, the legendary heroes he had always told me about? Were they real? Or were they yet another product of his dreams for a better day? I felt I’d never receive any satisfying answers to these questions.

  When we finally descended back to the foothills of Samaris, Daerec was waiting for us with unexpected company.

  “We found them hiding in the old gallery – by the tunnel that led inside the city – you know, where we used to beg for scraps,” He said. “They act like it’s still forbidden entrance. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  What… or rather whom… Daerec referred to was a large group of Janis, the lowest caste of the Reds. Daerec had been one of their kind, but he refused to take anything from the higher castes so that he would never be beholden to them. He eked his meager living from the sea, earning the name merchrome. The humble Janis were busy wolfing down dry meat that a Yellow brought for them. They were eating it avidly underneath their pitiful mud and straw masks. I could feel their suspicious stares at my back.

  “Who are you? Why are you not wearing masks?” One of them finally asked between bites.

  “The time of wearing masks is over, friend,” I told him.

  The Red chrome seemed to ponder at this for a moment, his mask looking at the masks of his fellow Janis.

  “What do you mean? We are no longer required to wear a mask?” asked another in bewilderment.

  “Look around you,” I replied. “This place is a ruin and yet your worry is whether to wear a mask or not.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the chrome. “I always wear a mask.”

  I looked at him pitifully. Sometimes the chains of habits are stronger than the chains of iron.

  “Are you the only ones left here?” asked Cestia.

  The Janis hesitated to answer.

  “We mean no harm, brother,” said Daerec. “I was a Janis too.”

  “You don’t look like a Janis,” rebutted the Red chrome. Then finally making up his mind, he added: “Near the salt pans, that’s where the rest of us are.”

  “We have all the salt in the world, now!” another Janis joyfully exclaimed. “The Blacks took a lot with them but much is still there! We’re rich!”

  Cestia dismounted from her horse and moved closer to the ragged group. “Do you know who I am? Do you recognize me?”

  The chromes shook their head. One of them commented: “You dress like a Red, but you don’t look like a Janis.”

  “She is Cestia, your princess… our princess,” said Daerec, surprising me.

  The Janis instinctively bowed. “We had no idea you were still alive.” An old chrome quavered.

  “We will return the salt – please, don’t punish us!” a crippled infant shouted.

  “Please rise,” Cestia replied gently. “The time of being Janis or Ashi is over. I am not here to punish you or put you in your place.”

  It took awhile for this to sink in. The Janis had been forbidden for centuries to move out of their caste or trade in salt, which had netted their ‘betters’ a fortune, but which for them, had always been grounds for execution.

  Once we were able to convince them that Cestia was sincere, they took us to the small colony that still remained of their caste. Cestia wept and embraced them, saying how glad she was to see the Reds were not just a memory. In this beleaguered community, she saw the seeds of her chromatic future. They would rebuild their nation, together!

  But one of the Janis female chromes did not bear the same welcome for us and specifically for Cestia. “We were in misery when we had a king and we are in misery now that we don’t have a king,” she raged, making sure we heard her as well. “Why should we be happy to see another noble?”

  “Because we are fighting a new kind of war!” she said while mounting on her horse. “One that will end these archaic and cruel practices. We seek to end all inequalities and bitterness between the colors, too. I am no longer a noble and you are no longer a Janis.”

  The female did not reply to Cestia. Instead, she turned her splintered white mask toward the male Janis. “They say we are all equal and yet they come mounted on well-fed horses while we stand here in bare feet. If I were to even take a handful of dry oats from its feedbag to give my child I would be whipped.”

  Before anybody had the time to say or do anything, Cestia dismounted from her horse and led it up to the Janis female.

  “Look me in the eyes,” She said.

  The Janis female reluctantly looked at her. I could imagine the hatred and disillusionment that contorted her face behind her mask. And I could understand it. I had once been forced to live among them, grateful for the shelter of an old mud hut that a sweet little orphan infant chrome had offered to share with me.

  “You have every right to complain.” continued Cestia. “And you may continue doing so forever. Or… you could join me and fight for yourself and for a better tomorrow. Amongst these many colors you see gathered before you, you will only find friends. We are all chromes that have decided to break our chains and the false beliefs instilled in our fathers’ fathers. We have decided to be slaves no longer. That is why we refuse to wear masks. We want everyone in the Territories to know who we are and to be able to read the expressions on our faces so that they will understand how we feel.”

  Cestia then handed her horse’s reins over to the female Janis. “And yes, it’s true,” she told her. “I have been on a horse far too long. It’s your turn now.”

  The female chrome, in response, placed her trembling hand over her mask and slowly removed it, revealing a shy smile and a pretty, young face beneath.

  Cestia did not wait for a response. “We are leaving at dawn. Whoever wants to join us is welcome.”

  “Spoken like a true princess!” whispered Daerec near me. And this time, there was no sarcasm in his voice.

  The next day, as our army made ready to move into the Violet territory, we found all the Janis ready and waiting for us on the salt pans.

  “Looks like you convinced them,” I told Cestia.

  “No, they convinced themselves,” She replied.

  “We need to give her a new horse,” mumbled Daerec pointing at Cestia.

  I shook my head. “She wants to walk. Let her do what she needs to do.” And then I, too, got off my horse and went to walk beside her.

  31. Lavenders and Butterflies

  We resumed our journey, carefully making our way through verdant lavender fields into the heart of the Violet territories. We had followed the sea until we began to notice the lavender
beyond the sand dunes. It rippled in the breeze, creating endless waves of purple and indigo that went on as far as the eye could see.

  Cestia, walking near me, said: “Isn’t this beautiful?” She seemed to be more at peace with herself after our return to Samaris.

  “Yes,” I whispered, “the color reminds me of your eyes.”

  She leaned towards me and kissed me.

  “Oh please… spare us!” said Daerec behind us. He pretended to vomit.

  “On the contrary, you could learn a thing or two from Asheva on that front!” commented Shaina, the young Orange sister. She playfully slapped his arm and we all laughed. They had become close after the battle of the twin cities and I was happy for both.

  As we entered Violet Territory, I wondered how the Violets might react once they spotted our army. How would anyone react for that matter? Surely, we would be seen as invaders and this would only inflame the suspicious side of the Violets, as Cestia pointed out.

  “You look worried,” she said, as if reading my mind.

  “We cannot hope to approach the Violet with our entire army in tow,” I told her. “The Violet would see us as a threat and they’d use their knowledge of nature against us before we even got the chance to explain the reason for our visit. I suppose that’s what I’d do in their place.”

  “How can we approach them? Should we send a messenger?”

  “The Violets are friendly enough when they’re on the road,” I replied. “But they’re very protective of their homeland – even to the point of obsession. At least, that’s what my friends, Jhute and Zimdie told me and that’s what we experienced firsthand. They poison intruders first and ask questions later… if the intruders survive.”

  “Why are they like that?” asked Shaina.

  “My friends explained to me that they were invaded once, long ago,” I said. “And the memory of that horrible time remains woven into the fabric of their lives. Now they prefer death to slavery and they remain ever vigilant and ready to deliver a first strike if they even suspect another nation is planning to invade them.”