Reborn Legacy - Chapter 4 Bull Helmet Soldiers

The sensation of travelling stop with a jerking motion. An abrupt thump and clang drew me out of my stupor, along with a lot of shuffling, moans and manly curses all around me. My eyes opened to total darkness. Of course, my head was still encased within an iron mask that had no obvious openings for me to exploit. If it did, I suspected it would need magic to remove it.

I was roughly pulled forward and down to what felt like soft ground. A chilling breeze cooled my exposed skin, so I was shivering. There was a poking and shuffling to the back of my head that made my muffled screams heat my cheeks and make them go damp.

My mouth instinctively gaped for air like a fish out of water when my head was free from the mask and its heaviness gone. Slivers of daylight stung my eyes, which rapidly blinked to adjust. I blinked in storm clouds gathering a mild tempest on bleak skies, and a fierce dance of dry leaves over an outcrop of standing stones in the foot hills a short distance ahead.

“No magic.” A soldier warned me.

I held back a frown, feeling no point in correcting his accusation. Especially when he’d likely cut out my tongue if I did.

My body was manoeuvred to be in line with the other kids who were overly wary of me and keeping as much distance as possible. It wasn’t much since I was sandwich between an older boy whose grimy tunic and callous elbows showed signs of hard living. His sea-green eyes dared a quick glance my way, so I was able to make out most of his features. Unkempt ash blond tufts hung over shaped brows, which drew out the roundness of his eyes. His symmetrical cheekbones, jaw line and flat edge of his nose already traced the outline of a good looking man, along with the unmistakable bump of his Adam’s apple.

“A waste.” I sighed and received a nasty whack to the back of my head.

“Don’t speak if you want to keep your tongue,” hissed the unlucky blond pretty girl carefully into my ear.

I acknowledged her brave warning with a nod. We followed the soldiers across a vast field of tall rye that tickled the back of my calves as we walked. A refreshing scent of wet ground, nettle and straw wafted about my nostrils. The sun’s heat had waned when we were half way across the field, replaced with the chill of nightfall.

“Marsilien. Your cometh as a storm cloud bringing doom.” Wind blew through my ears.

Our procession was impeded by a feisty gale force that stirred up loose dirt to sting our eyes and whip our skin. A maddening shriek pierced our eyes to cause a frenzy of frightened cries and madden curses from everyone.

“Haizea hiltzen da!” A spell countered the wind’s onslaught and stopped the gales, calming the rye field.

Approaching torchlight gradually drew out the outlines of soldiers covered in black leather from head to toe with heads completely masked in dark burnished bronze bull shaped helmets with upturned horns on other ends. Taking bold strides in between them was an elderly man sporting a wise beard of silver-white, lively gray eyes and laugh-lines etched to the corners of his thin lips. His rich indigo robes majestically swayed about his body, in-sync with his strides.

Our escorting soldiers hastily retreated as soon as the bull helmet soldiers were upon us. These soldiers silently removed the clamps from our wrists. As I was rubbing my aching wrist better, I bulked at the sight of the elderly man turning the heavy iron into dust with a magic spell.

“A master magis.” The fact surfaced to my mind before fleeing back into some obscure archive I was still not able to reach.

“Ouch!” I yelped and rubbed my arm. A bronze helmet lingered in my view before it disappeared at my back. I kept pinching my own skin to make sure my mind stayed alert.

Everyone followed the new soldiers and elderly man through the remaining half of the field until we reached two glowing boulders twice the height of the soldiers. They were paired closely next to each other like two double doors. I realised the light came from the sliver lines of an image that was etched across the surface of both boulders. The image was a figure of a three-headed woman wearing a crown of thorns. Her left arm held a decorative blade toward the heavens. Three sets of ruby eyes glared at us. Snakes barring fangs fell about her face as locks of hair. Coiled around her legs and waist were two boas whose heads faced each other at her stomach. Moonlight revealed the silver twinkle in their eyes.

“Zin the night goddess and her watchmen, Jeba and Pabo.” Again, knowledge came and went from my mind.

I frowned. Why would I know this? Of course, the answer would appear as black and white blurry blobs as always. I dropped my questions and decided to go with the flow until I saw it was time to do otherwise.

“Gaueko suge irekia,” the master magis whispered to the image of Zin at the same time two bull helmet soldiers pushed in the heads of Jeba and Pabo.

The boulders made an awkward screech when they parted to reveal an inner cavern and the landing of a rock stairway leading downward into darkness. I peered at the way set before me and hoped there was light at the end.

The bull helmet soldiers nudged us on towards the stairs and unknown deeps.