To Alexios’s surprise, the enemies parted for him as he attacked—moving aside and then surrounding him, their spears and swords aimed straight at him. He was headed to the battering ram and the ladders, since destroying them was the monastery’s only hope. But before he could scatter the men holding the ram, and before he could knock down the ladders, he found Adarnase waiting on a gigantic muscular destrier, twisting his sharp gleaming scimitar, his eyes locked on Alexios.
Summoning the last of his farr, Alexios stood on his saddle—his lumbering horse was too slow—and leaped straight at Adarnase. The prince’s eyes widened as Alexios knocked him off his mount and threw him to the ground. Alexios held the prince with his legs, raised Gedara into the air with both hands, and was about to stab his chest—ending this once and for all, scattering his army in terror—but Adarnase still held his scimitar. He deflected the blow, then with his left hand punched Alexios’s stomach so hard that the air was forced from his lungs. Unable to breathe, Alexios fell into the soil. Soldiers surrounded him, took Gedara, and bashed blood from his face with their mailed fists. Bone crunched beneath their blows, white light flashed in his eyes, and teeth fell from his bleeding mouth. They chained his wrists behind his back so tightly he would have cried out in pain if he could have breathed, then they did the same for his ankles, leaving him in the soil as the battering ram smashed the gate doors off their hinges.
“No!” Alexios screamed, coughing on his own blood as his breath came back. “Basil, Kassia, Isato! Run!”
Mounted warriors were already charging inside the monastery through the broken gate. Alexios kept screaming. Through the doorway he saw them run over monks, slash them with swords, stab them with spears, whip them, or chain them. Within minutes, the survivors were rounded up in the courtyard. Kassia, Isato, and Basil were among them, all tied up. The children’s heads were lowered, while Isato was lying on the ground, unconscious.
“No!” Alexios kept screaming, even as he almost choked on the blood pouring out of his mouth. “No!” But none of them heard him. They were too far away, there was too much noise in the courtyard. He looked at Adarnase, who was closer, and who had gotten back on his horse. “You bastard! I’ll kill you for this! I’ll kill you!”
Adarnase nodded at him, smiled, then looked to one of his men-at-arms, standing nearby. Alexios would have kept yelling at Adarnase, but the man-at-arms approached him, then kicked his head with his steel boot so hard that he lost consciousness.
When Alexios woke, his entire body ached. Pain pounded his skull and cheeks. His lips and one of his eyes were swollen and throbbing. Dried sweat coated his flesh. Heavy rusted irons still chained his wrists and ankles, and his limbs tingled with numbness.
A bonfire roared before him, the flames lapping at the night, spitting whirling sparks up at the stars. Men were clapping, singing, and dancing around the fire. They’d taken off their armor, and one was even playing a lute. Alexios was unable to understand anything they were saying. Some tore into chicken roasted on sticks over the flames, the gleaming grease running into their beards, while still more sucked down wine from wine skins, clapping each other’s backs, roaring with laughter. Others bit straight into pomegranates they had stolen from the monastery, the red juice flowing on their chins. It took a moment for Alexios to realize that they were celebrating his capture.
He tried to summon the farr to burst his chains and destroy these monsters, but nothing remained. He was alone and unable to draw on the strength of others for the common goal of human liberation. What was worse: they had taken his sword. The familiar weight—the feeling of Gedara’s hilt pressing against his side—it was gone.
What’s a Zhayedan without a weapon? Alexios thought. What’s a Zhayedan without the farr?
In his exhaustion, weariness, and frustration, his eyes rolled back into his head. He fell asleep.
In the morning, the ground was trembling, and thunder rumbled in the air. He opened his eyes to gray clouds, and Alaverdi’s inner walls, church, and outbuildings. He was in the courtyard. With his eyes he searched for Isato, Basil, and Kassia. They were lying among the bound monks, asleep. He gasped with relief. All the prisoners were chained up in the courtyard around the smoking remnants of the bonfire, with only one drowsy soldier sitting on a stool by the gate to watch them.
Now the thunder was growing louder, and the ground was shaking enough to move the pebbles near Alexios.
The drowsing soldier’s eyes widened. He sat up, stood, jogged through the gate, and then ran back into the courtyard, sprinting for the monastic dormitory. A deep horn sounded two notes outside the walls. Then the courtyard was filled with riders on magnificent horses. The riders were Persians who draped their armor in gleaming silk, and carried colorful banners marked with crescent moons, and cursive Arabic stating that there was no god but God. They were followed by several horse-drawn carriages. One of these carriages carried a large iron cage.
“Shirvanshahzadeh Muzaffar Manuchehr!” one of the Persian servants announced.
Prince Muzaffar Manuchehr of the Kingdom of Shirvan, Alexios translated. He had picked up a little Persian in his journeys. Persian, Arabic, Roman, and (increasingly) Turkish were the lingua francas for these lands of many languages.
Adarnase emerged from the monastic dormitory, rubbing his bleary eyes. He was flanked by two bodyguards, plus the soldier who had been drowsing by the gate. Other soldiers followed. The prisoners in the courtyard were also waking, and the horses packing the stables were whickering. Alexios heard Rakhsh’s voice among them.
Manuchehr dismounted. Handsome and young, he was dressed in black, including a black turban, and walked with a tiger’s stride, keeping his back straight. Adarnase widened his arms, forced a smile, and approached him. The two leaders embraced and then kissed each other’s cheeks, speaking Persian. Adarnase led Manuchehr to the refectory, where smoke pulsating with fire from the hearth was already pouring out of the opened windows. Servants and guards belonging to both princes followed.
Everyone ignored the dozens of prisoners lying in the courtyard. The two princes had a leisurely breakfast. Alexios felt hungry, thirsty, and tired. Most of his body hurt. He had never felt so miserable. Yet he cared nothing for his own anguish. All that mattered was his family.
Two guards stood at the refectory entrance, a Christian and a Muslim who, out of boredom, were already flinging dice into the dust. Another soldier, a Christian, guarded the monastery’s broken gate, but also followed the dice game. None of the guards cared as Alexios writhed like a worm toward Basil, Kassia, and Isato, all of whom were now awake.
“Are you alright?” he whispered.
“We should ask you the same question,” Basil whispered back.
Indeed, aside from having slept outside in chains, the children seemed to be fine. Alexios had forgotten about how terrible he must have looked. Isato was also doing better, in that she was awake, and no longer feverish. Methodios’s medicine must have worked. Alexios asked about the last thing she remembered.
“We were fleeing these men on horseback,” she whispered. “Now they are here, and we are in chains.”
“They only just got here,” Alexios said. “We were having an alright time until they swung by…”
“I will kill these men.” She eyed the guards who were gambling by the refectory doorway.
“We need to bide our time.” Alexios looked to the children. “Do either of you have any farr left?”
They shook their heads.
“I haven’t had much for awhile,” Kassia said.
“Then we probably don’t have enough to break out of these chains,” Alexios said.
“We could try teaching the monks,” Basil said. “Build up our power that way.”
“Alright,” Alexios said. “But first we have to remember something. We need to stay together no matter what.”
“They’re not going to let us stay together, Alexios,” Basil said. “They’re going to separate us. And they’re going to kill you.”
“I don’t want him to die,” Kassia said, tears in her eyes.
“Don’t talk like that,” Alexios told Basil. “Don’t upset her. Things are already hard enough as it is, we don’t need—”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Why not?” Basil said. “It’s the truth. Doesn’t she deserve that?”
“This is bad, but I’ve been in worse situations.” Alexios looked at Kassia, wanting to comfort her.
“Oh yeah?” Basil said. “Like what?”
Alexios chuckled. “One time, before I met you, I got eaten by a giant sea monster called a ketos, if you can believe it.”
“Another tall tale, Alexios?” Basil said.
Kassia was watching Alexios now.
“You’ll believe in giant talking skeletons in underground lava pits,” he said. “You’ll believe in gelu spirits drinking your soul. But sea monsters eating me alive—that’s too much.”
“How did you escape?” Kassia whispered.
“Same as always.” Alexios was watching the guards as they took turns glancing inside the refectory before throwing their dice. “I cut my way out.”
“Won’t be easy without your sword,” Basil said.
Alexios winced at the reminder that Gedara was gone. As if things aren’t hard enough.
Isato looked at him. “You have never mentioned this ‘tall tale’ to any of us.”
“There wasn’t time,” Alexios said. “And you know what, while I’m at it, once I was also captured by a bunch of giant ants near Mount Ida. That was worse than this.”
“Giant ants?” Basil said.
“How big were they?” Kassia asked.
“Each was the size of a carriage,” Alexios said. “And there were hundreds, thousands of them. They moved faster than horses, and each was stronger than an ox.”
Kassia’s eyes widened.
“They made this weird, creepy chirping noise,” Alexios added. “Almost like really loud crickets. I would have been a goner if not for a guy named Dionysios. He helped me escape. Later, he became my teacher, until Narses murdered him.”
“I hate Narses,” Kassia said.
“Who doesn’t?” Alexios said.
“I don’t think anyone’s going to rescue us this time,” Basil said.
“There’s that old optimism,” Alexios said. “You forget that Methodios is still out there.”
“How’s an old monk going to do anything?” Basil said. “Is he going to pray to god to let us go? How often does that work?”
Alexios was silent.
“We have to focus on generating enough farr to get out of here,” Basil added. “There’s enough people. All we have to do is talk with the monks.”
“Have you ever tried talking with monks?” Alexios said. “Have you ever tried convincing them to change their minds about anything?”
Basil sighed.
“You don’t become a monk because you’re open to new ideas,” Alexios said. “You become a monk because you’ve made up your mind. And because there aren’t any women to marry.”
Isato was watching him again. “There could be nothing worse.”
“We can hear you,” an old monk who was nearby whispered in accented Roman.
Alexios looked at Basil. “Well? Work your magic.”
Basil took a deep breath, then addressed the monk. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Certainly,” the monk answered. “And we will ‘get out of here,’ as you so eloquently put it, in time. For all is as God wills. If we are chained inside our own monastery, if we are suffering such punishment, it is because we have sinned.”
“How can you have sinned?” Basil said. “I’ve seen how you guys live here. All you do is pray, eat, and sleep! That’s it! What could—”
“Ah, but you forget,” the monk said. “We have also taken upon ourselves the sins of the world. We labor to help those souls who otherwise would be lost. There is so much sin darkening this vale of tears, we could never possibly purify it, not if everyone on Earth believed as we do, for then it would be the end times.”
I’ve already heard enough, Alexios thought.
“What if there was another way,” Basil said. “We could work together to break free—and you could go back to praying and living your life in this monastery.”
“If God means for us to be free, we will be free,” the monk said. “If not, we will glory in His Glory.”
Kill me, Alexios thought.
“Heaven helps those who helps themselves,” Basil said.
“Truly,” the monk said. “And so ‘heaven’—what fools call God, if you’ll pardon my saying so—shall.”
Basil frowned.
“What did I tell you?” Alexios said to Basil. “There’s no magical combination of words that will change their minds. It’s because you’re not really arguing with them. You’re arguing with the economic system that sustains them. And if you didn’t happen to know, economic systems don’t respond to arguments. They only respond to violence.”
“But this guy’s economic system is gone,” Basil said. “Just look at this place! And they’re probably going to make him work in the mines, where he’ll be dead in six months.”
“All is as God wills,” the monk said.
“The economic system can change,” Alexios said. “But sometimes it takes people time to realize it.”
“So I should just beat this guy up?” Basil said.
“I can still hear you,” the monk said.
“You shouldn’t beat him up,” Alexios said. “People being forced to fight rarely make good fighters.”
Just then, the two guards by the refectory entrance stiffened to attention, leaving their dice in the dust. The two princes—Manuchehr and Adarnase—walked outside in their comfortable, confident, leisurely way. Adarnase kicked the dice aside. Still speaking Persian and nodding and smiling, the princes approached the prisoners. Alexios’s entire body tensed up. Whatever they were saying couldn’t have been good.
Soon enough, following the princes’s commands, more guards approached the prisoners, screamed at them to stand, and shoved them to one side of the courtyard or the other. Almost everyone went to one side—except for Kassia and Basil, who went to the other. Isato and Alexios were left at the courtyard’s center. Adarnase approached them.
“You understand what is taking place?” Adarnase said. “We are deciding who gets what. These are Shirvanshahzadeh Manuchehr’s lands, and we have violated his sovereignty by punishing this monastery for sheltering you. And yet this monastery agreed to abide by the laws of Shirvan—which are similar to the laws of most lands. Namely, they are not supposed to aid criminals, particularly those who wish to destroy everything that is noble and good in some mad demonic quest to remake the world.”
“You think you’re the most special, unique, educated, professional people,” Alexios said. “But you all talk the same way, sometimes word for word.”
“Your children will come with me,” Adarnase said. “You will never see them again. That is a sweet form of vengeance, is it not? As for the rest of you, Prince Manuchehr will be bringing you to the slave markets of Derbend—the Iron Gates—to sell you.” He looked at Isato, and licked his lips. “Or to do with you as he pleases. Though I warned him that this woman here is a bit hot to handle, as they say. Merciful God! You terrified my servants—at least the ones who survived.”
“You have not seen the last of us,” Isato said.
“If you touch them,” Alexios began, looking to Kassia, who was crying, and to Basil, who was trembling with rage. “If you—”
“Oh yes, I’m sure.” Adarnase nodded, squinted, pouted. “I’m sure you’ll do all sorts of awful things to me. I told the good prince to be careful with the both of you—to never unlock those iron manacles of yours, to keep your wrists and ankles chained at all times.” He looked to Isato. “This one might even need a muzzle, sad as it is to say. You are among the most magnificent women I have ever laid eyes upon in all my days upon this Earth.” He looked to Alexios. “Where did you ever find her?”
“She came to me,” Alexios said. “Although that might be difficult for you to understand, since you’ve never had a woman without forcing her with either your sword or your money.”
“Who says I like women?” Adarnase whispered. “You know how it is with wealthier sorts. We tire of crude plebeian tastes rather quickly, and soon find ourselves hungering for purer delicacies.” He looked to Kassia and Basil. “Besides, they’re almost of age, aren’t they?”
He walked back to the children, put his hands on their shoulders, and led them away, watching Alexios for his reaction. But when the children struggled against Adarnase, when they screamed, he nodded to his guards, who punched their faces. Alexios and Isato both moved to help them, yelling for Adarnase to let them go, but Manuchehr’s guards pulled them back. When Alexios tried to head-butt one, the guard dodged, then elbowed his stomach so hard he fell into the dust. Isato, meanwhile, was screaming like an animal. It took all of Alexios’s strength to stop her. He crawled toward her and clutched her feet.
“Focus on me,” he said. “It’s just you and me here. There’s no one else.”
“I can’t,” she growled with an unearthly, demonic voice.
They’ll kill her if she changes, he thought.
“Isato,” he said. “Stay with me, Isato!”
Gray and black fur was sprouting from her feet, and her face was lengthening, her eyes bulging. Her muscles and even her entire body grew in size, but flesh was too weak to break iron. Isato only strained against her bindings. They might have bent a little, but she was unable to burst through.
The ghazis jumped back and screamed, and their monk prisoners crossed themselves and shuffled toward the gate, the chains around their ankles ringing. Adarnase’s knights—some of whom had already witnessed Isato’s earlier transformation in Kutaisi—pointed at her and yelled orders at the ghazis. Regrouping, the ghazis surrounded Isato, then prodded her with their spears into the iron cage atop the carriage. She roared so loudly Alexios thought his eardrums would burst, but the chains made it almost impossible for her to fight. The ghazis lifted the ramp to close her in, then fastened a lock to the bars. She raged against these, shifting the carriage back and forth on its wheels and making the draft horses neigh. But she was trapped. She would never break free.
Prince Manuchehr had already mounted his horse and given orders to leave. Alexios was pulled behind one of the mounted ghazis and dragged through the dirt, while rows of sad monks followed, walking in the dust. Carriages filled with piles of books, barrels of wine, and sacks of food came also—along with the carriage holding Isato.
Black smoke rose from the monastery. One of the last things Alexios saw was Adarnase riding Rakhsh out of the broken gates—with Kassia and Basil mounted to a horse tied behind him. Adarnase and his knights were headed west, back to Kutaisi, while Manuchehr took Isato and Alexios and all the other monks east toward the mists that concealed the Hyrkanian Sea.
