This is how we rise up

Goran

Two months later…

Seated upon my throne, I listen—or rather, pretend to listen—to Radomir’s incessant prattle. That pompous scholar lays out his brilliant plans of conquest, as if my armies of the dead required elaborate strategies to subjugate a handful of weaklings. His calculations are precise, his speeches erudite, and I cannot help but be bored.

I have lived for three hundred years. I have seen kingdoms rise and fall, broken the wills of kings and crushed the arrogance of the mightiest warriors. There is no challenge I have not already overcome, no victory I have not already savored. I possess nearly the whole world and have reshaped what it contains, and this monotony is an endless torture. The only thing that still drives me to endure is the thought of reclaiming the only possession that truly belongs to me: my daughter.

«Enough, general,» I interrupt him with a wave of my hand, my tone utterly disinterested. Radomir falls silent at once, bowing his head in servile deference. «Your plan is flawless, if obvious. Now, begone.» My gaze shifts to Vuk, oppressively silent as always. «The same goes for you.» With a nod, he sinks into the shadows behind a curtain. “Unsettling.”

My eyes rest upon my wife, Katyusha, a hollow shell without life or will, standing beside my throne… The greatest thing that ever happened to me, reduced by that foolish girl to a statue of flesh, a doll without volition, incapable even of smiling on command.

«I think I shall amuse myself with her for a while,» I murmur, leaving the throne and approaching her with a contemptuous smile. My hands grip her hips. «After all, in this world, there is nothing left that can make me feel alive… except your lovely face.» I whisper against her lips as I kiss her.

From the shadows of a candelabrum, Vuk materializes soundlessly and kneels. «My lord, forgive the intrusion,» he rasps.

«You had better have a worthy reason for disturbing me,» I hiss, my voice a venomous whisper. «You know how I loathe company in private moments.»

«I saw a massive column of smoke, far in the distance, to the north,» he replies without raising his head.

A shiver, almost imperceptible, runs down my spine. An emotion I had not felt in centuries: suspicion. «Show me.» The ice floor beneath us ripples, and the image of the Forest of Risi, engulfed in flames, manifests. «How did this happen? How could an entire forest burn without my knowing of it?» The thought of something occurring without my permission is intolerable. «Vuk, summon Radomir! At once!» I bark, thrusting my finger toward the doors.

Vuk vanishes as silently as he appeared. At that very moment, the doors burst open with a crash and Captain Maros, his face distraught, rushes inside. «My lord, from the south, strange flying ships are approaching!»

«Flying ships?» I mutter to myself. “Nonsense. Ships cannot…” I conjure the image as well, and there it is—a fleet of brigantines and galleons of wood and iron, soaring through the air with immense, bizarre sacks in place of sails.

Before I can issue a single order, another figure emerges from the shadow of a pillar. Captain Nemanja kneels, breathless. «My lord, from the north, an army on land is advancing!»

I conjure a third image. Endless ranks of malylebky stretch before me. «Those loathsome, slimy vermin. Is this how they repay me after I was merciful enough not to exterminate them?» I growl, enraged. My thoughts spiral, unable to decide which enemy to strike first. Everything is happening too quickly. The doors open once more, and Vuk enters with Radomir. «General, tell me what is happening! Explain this attack!» I roar, my voice a snarl.

Radomir, with his infuriating composure, studies the three images. «My lord, we are under a pincer attack. It is no problem, merely an elementary tactic, though well executed.»

«And what are we to do?»

«It will suffice for Nemanja and me to march north with all the troops and some loutky, while the aerial assault shall be handled by an army composed entirely of loutky mounted upon zombie aitvaras.»

«Would you use the loutky at once? Why not rely only on the smert jesera, the risi, or the ochiupaty?» I demand, waving my hand.

«The enemy has been cunning, prepared in advance, and has struck at precisely the moment to deny us part of our strength.»

«Stop flattering those terrorists.»

«Forgive me, my lord.» he replies obsequiously. «But the sun has only just set, the smert jesera cannot yet be mobilized. As for the risi, I can no longer feel the connection—I fear the fire was meant to cremate them. Lastly, we have already tested the ochiupaty against the malylebky, and they turned upon us.»

«Damn it! There are three of you, yet not one head among you capable of thinking of these things! What need have I of generals if you are all incompetents?!» Suddenly, I realize someone is missing from the chamber. «Where is Stoyan?» I demand, but no one answers. I conjure another image upon the icy floor: Stoyan, my champion, already on the battlefield, his greatsword planted in the ground, face-to-face with a warrior foe, poised to cut him down at any instant.

A smile spreads across my face. My boredom dissolves, replaced by a thrill I have not felt in years. There is no need for tactics, no need for elaborate plans. My enemies are already dead. «You are fools. You should have possessed his spirit, instead of vexing me with your idiocies and worthless concerns.»

«Forgive us, Majesty!» All my generals bow low, begging pardon. They rush out, mobilizing the troops according to Radomir’s orders. I recline upon my throne once more, my wife perched on my lap, holding her tightly at the waist. Excitement surges along my spine. «They dared to attack me, and with such audacity. Good. I can hardly wait to destroy them one by one, to watch their hopes wither with every corpse my legions trample beneath their feet.» I murmur, resting my head upon my fist.