The Angst of Antilla

"Tell me the truth! Where are you from?" Yannuk roared, leader of the Gubis, a notorious, nomadic Southern Desert clan. In his teepee kneeled a young woman bound by the ankles and wrists. She wore a dirty, white satin tunic and breeches. Her brunette hair escaped from under her sand-dusted headscarf. Around her tired eyes, a darkened mixture of sand and sweat stuck to her skin. Other than that, the rest of her face remained untouched.

Inside the teepee stood a few wooden chests and a bed of dried rushes wrapped in linen. A lantern sat next to the bed and about four woven rugs covered the desert floor. A leather bag lay across the floor next to the woman. Through the crack of the entrance, stars could be seen twinkling in the inky darkness of the desert sky, stretching out towards the far horizon. A slight chill wisped its way inside and curled around the room. Besides the faint talk of those in the surrounding tents, only the crackle of the rushes burning in the lantern could be heard.

"I’ve said too much,” the woman murmured.

Yannuk slapped her across the face. Her head snapped sideways, the red sting blooming across her cheek. Slowly, she turned back to face Yannuk, trembling with rage. She glared at him, her blazing eyes drilling unsettlingly into his soul. Yannuk took a step back. The wrinkles on his forehead loosened as frustration turned to shock.

"No way... This can't be," he whispered, feeling his stomach drop. He lowered to one knee to face her. He had to confirm what he was seeing. He let out a sharp sigh of disbelief. His eyes weren't fooling him.

"How?" he asked her. She continued to shoot daggers at him, remaining quiet. 

"How?" he repeated.

"How what?" she spat.

"Amber, your eyes turned amber."

She broke eye contact with Yannuk and stared blankly at the reed-woven floor. Her eyes flickered back to a deep shade of brown. Yannuk shuddered as he felt a sudden chill leave his bones.

"Tell me I'm wrong when I say that you're from Antilla," Yannuk said, holding his breath. The woman shut her eyes and sighed. 

"Tell me!" he roared impatiently.

She looked up at him again, amber flickering faintly through her pupils. A coldness instantly rushed over him again. "You're not wrong. I am from Antilla." 

Yannuk exhaled sharply, falling backwards to sit on the floor. He crossed his legs and ran one hand through his hair.

“H… How is it possible? How did you survive?” he questioned in a softer tone. 

“Untie me. Then I’ll tell you,” she hissed, her menacing amber gaze burning into Yannuk. 

“You have some nerve!” 

“Then let my secrets remain untold,” she jeered, narrowing her eyes. Her lip curled slightly. 

Yannuk scoffed before getting up. He walked over to her leather bag and threw it angrily behind him, out of the woman’s reach. He reached down, lifted the end of his robe and took a sharp dagger from a tight piece of cloth wrapped around his ankle. He kneeled behind the woman and started to cut away at her restraints. 

She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck the moment she was free. She stood up briefly, stretching her legs and before sitting back down with her legs crossed. Yannuk kept his eyes locked on her, dagger in hand before he sat down again. 

“Thank you,” she said, with a slight nod, “I will tell you how I managed to make it out alive from Antilla, but it will not help you nor will it bring any peace to this situation. It will only quench your curiosity.”

“A favour for a favour,” Yannuk said, twisting his knife from the blade’s tip.

“Very well.” The woman dug deep into her mind to try to resurface the day she made it out of Antilla. The memories came flooding back in an instant…

*** 

“Tonight a distant star will die! It will explode into blues and pinks and purples!” Keira said, bursting with excitement. 

“And how do you know this?” I said, crossing my arms. Keira had a vivid imagination. We never knew if what she was saying was fact or something she had created in her head.

“Next to the North star last night, I noticed one of the stars getting dimmer and dimmer, until it disappeared. It was always there, I had it plotted on my star map! I waited for a long time, but it never came back. This lines up with the Legend of-”

“The Legend of Naara,” Thomas interrupted. The legend that described Naara Envith witnessing the night sky illuminating in an unfathomable display. The disappearance of a star followed by a cascade of colours painting the night sky.

Thomas leaned against one of the cobblestone walls of a side street in the market square of Antilla. The three teens were hidden in a corner of the square, watching the passers-by. The city was bustling with Antillian traders and foreign folk. Horses with small, wooden carts clicked along the uneven cobblestone roads surrounding the square. The stalls were propped up in the centre, interested customers weaving their way in and out of them. Bursts of vibrant colours decorated the city from vivid Antillian woven silk to collections of earthy, sienna spices from the South. 

A preacher suddenly emerged from the crowds and took a stand at the city’s gathering point next to where we were chatting. He instantly drew the attention of the market goers. His brown hair was scraggly and his cheeks wore a crimson flush. His sweaty, cream tunic adhered to his skin, and was half-stuffed into the top of his black breeches. His chest heaved dramatically as he gasped for air.

 “We need… to make peace… with the Brethren of Tuega!” he shouted, trying to regain his breath, “They will come and they will not stop unless we equalise the trade in the North! The rulers of Antilla are setting us up to die! Open your eyes people! The Brethren are coming!”

The city guards swiftly appeared and hauled the man off the gathering point. A few of his passionate followers preached behind him, throwing their fists in the air in frustration as he was dragged away into the teeming crowds. Quickly a bard stood up, seizing the unoccupied podium, curating songs of mockery about the preacher. He quickly gained a laughing audience. 

“Well? Do you want to join me on my search tonight?” Keira toothily smiled, oblivious to the scenes around her. Thomas and I exchanged looks. We knew that meant camping on the roof of her steading till early hours of the morning in the freezing cold. 

“It’s a bit chilly, don't you think Pricilla?” Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Mhm. I agree. Besides, my parents would not appreciate it if I were to fall ill.”

“I get it, I get it,” Keira grumbled, “But just know that you are missing the chance to watch a legend be reborn! The Legend of Keira!” Thomas and I rolled our eyes.

We spent some time browsing the market stalls for any interesting items we could buy with our measly five silver coins. To our avail, we found nothing. Once the vendors began disassembling their stalls, we headed home for dinner. The foreign merchants made their way to their respective Inns, weary from the long day. The concealed stars slowly emerged into the darkened sky and a cold air settled over the city. Merchants drank into the early hours while children drifted to sleep, wrapped in woolen blankets.

I woke up to the frantic banging of Keira's mother on our front door in the dark of night. 

“Hurry, hurry! Wake up!” she screamed. My dad rushed to the door. My mother’s footsteps could be heard running to the kitchen.

In the background I could hear the petrified voice of Keira’s mother explaining to my father, “The Brethren are coming! Keira saw them crescenting the hills from the South. We don’t have much time, we need to leave before they get here. There are thousands of them!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, my dad came storming into my room.

“W…what’s happening?” I asked. He grabbed my arm and dragged me off my bed without a word. My mother was waiting at the door with a lantern. In the span of a few minutes, buildings had been set alight and screams could be heard echoing through the city from the outer walls. We ran through the streets, trying to avoid soldiers and other screaming townsfolk hoping to make it to the North of the city before the soldiers got there. But it was no use. We were surrounded. 

“Priscilla, you need to listen to me,” my dad said sternly. He kneeled down to face me and placed his hands firmly on my shoulders. “Those carts by the city walls will soon be leaving. You need to climb under one and grab on. Do not let go, do you hear me? Do not let go! You need to get out of here. We love you so much. We will come find you. Go. Be safe, my Dear.” Tears spilled down his cheeks, illuminating in the fire’s blaze. 

“Dad-!” 

“Go!”

I did what I was told. I ran to a horse and carriage next to one of the burning buildings by the city’s outer wall. Before I went under, I looked back hoping to see my parents to say my final goodbyes. But they had vanished. I climbed under the large carriage and held onto the wooden foundations. I wrapped the top of my feet behind another plank of wood. It only took a minute or so before a couple came running in a panic and climbed into the carriage. 

“Hurry!” the woman screamed as her partner leaped inside, closing the door behind him.  

A coachman jumped onto the front of the cart and instantly got the horse in a gallop. The cart moved quickly out of the city, cobblestone streets changing to rough dirt roads. We turned occasionally until we were headed for the South. As we moved further away, the stillness of the cold, airy night echoed the distant, muffled screams escaping from Antilla. 

Tears slipped down my cheeks but a cry could not form. I didn’t know if I would ever see my family or friends again. My whole world had changed in a heartbeat… My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the jolt of the cart coming to a stop. 

I heard the neigh of a distant horse and footsteps approaching the carriage. There was a sudden gurgling as the swish of an arrow flew through the air. There was a splintering of wood and a sudden force pushed the carriage backwards. The coachman’s horse neighed, its nostrils flaring as it pulled against its reins, hooves scraping against the ground. The footsteps neared the cart until I could see the feet of what I could only guess was a soldier. The soldier walked to the carriage door and swung it open. Those inside screamed in fear before the man silenced their petrified cries with a pierce of a sword. The blood in their throats gurgled and spluttered for a few seconds, their bodies jerking and flailing in the carriage before they fell still.

My lungs screamed for air. My heart was racing in my chest. The soldier dragged the bodies out of the cart and threw them on the ground with a thump. Their heads bounced off the soil. Two sets of lifeless eyes stared blankly at me from the dirt floor. The woman’s gown and the man’s tunic were drenched in blood and they had huge gaping wounds for necks. I felt my palms get sweaty and my grip loosening. 

“Don’t let go, Priscilla, don’t let go!” I told myself. 

I felt a sudden heat and heard a crackle of wood. The carriage had been set alight. I turned my head frantically, trying to find the feet of the murderer. Instead, four hooves galloped alongside the carriage and headed in the direction of Antilla. I wanted to wait until I couldn’t hear the thunder of hooves anymore before letting go. Instead, the fumes of burning wood engulfed my lungs and the hiss of flames dancing in the wind deafened the soldier’s departure.

The fire closed under the carriage. The sweat on my hands was as slippery as oil. My body burned, sweat grabbing onto my hair and the fabric of my clothes. The roaring flames licked off my exposed skin as they surrounded me. It was then, I let go. 

I scurried out from under the carriage, staying low. I looked cautiously around but saw nothing. I carefully moved away from the cart, pulling myself along the ground with my forearms and pushing myself with my feet. My heart pounded in my chest. I had to keep going. I had to be brave. A forest lay ahead. Through the mud and reeds, I finally made it to where the grass met the treeline. I got up on one knee, attempting to stay low, wiping the sweat from my forehead on my ashy linen shirt. 

I tried to regain my breath. I looked back at Antilla, the burning carriage collapsing in the corner of my eye. The city was being swallowed by the fire. I could make out hundreds upon thousands of more soldiers marching their way to the stone walls of my city. Their huge warband stretched into the distance, further than the eye could see. A harrowing pain of grief shot through me, each quivering breath a battle against the burning agony in my chest.

Before I could process anything, the sound of soldiers on horses reemerged from my left. Without thinking, I ran. I ran into the forest, never looking back. 

I had lost everything that day. There has never been a more notorious massacre than the massacre of Antilla. There were no survivors. Except for me. 

***

Yannuk shook his head in disbelief. 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“For what?

Yannuk stood up and outstretched his hand. 

“To regain the North.” Priscilla blinked at him in bewilderment. 

“They did not only steal Antilla. The Brethren banished us nomads from our territories, leaving us stateless in the South. They are trying to rule over all the sacred lands. We shall not let that happen. We are going to fight. We will take back what is rightfully ours... Are you in?” 

Priscilla hesitated for a moment. The bottled anger boiled her blood. A fiery passion burst in the pit of her stomach, longing to gain revenge for her friends, her family, her home. She looked up at Yannuk, eyes burning with an igniting amber. 

Priscilla nodded and took Yannuk’s hand. She was ready to fight.