Three Kings: Part Three

Chapter 3

The bird was the most incredible shade of yellow Rudin had ever seen. It erupted in a series of shrill cries as it sat perched on the wiry branch of a bush. Rudin smiled. The animal seemed unaware of the army marching next to it. It was looking to the horizon, oblivious to everything save for the dawn. When Rudin tugged at his reigns to prompt his mare to go back alongside the People's Army, the bird sped away, its wings flapping in the air so fast they became a blur. The sudden departure made Rudin hesitate as he watched the bird going, across arid, frozen wasteland.

"Is everything well, Premier?"

Rudin sighed sharply and turned around. "Ah, Yeltsin. You startled me."

Yeltsin grunted. "I apologize. But you should know, Premier, that there is nothing you should be afraid of. Not anymore."

"Yes, well, forgive me if I do not consider my mortality every so often, general!"

"As you say." Yeltsin guided his horse next to Rudin's, and the pair spent a moment to study all that lay before them.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Rudin asked.

"It is ours." Yeltsin grinned, flexing his right hand. "It is ours, and there is no one left to take it from us."

Rudin peered at the general. Yeltsin had not liked traveling west, and had complained regularly until Rudin had spent some enough time explaining the importance of taking down King David. Eventually the general had relinquished, but not before threatening to leave the Premier once in the middle of one of their debates. This was characteristic of the general, although Rudin was finding it harder and harder to ignore Yeltsin's stubborn streak. Even as he studied him now Rudin could see the resistance in the general, in the way he sat on horseback and the way he looked down at anyone who spoke to him. The streaks of gray in his hair and the newly-acquired wrinkles on his face were misleading. Here was a man who would fight to the bitter end, like a youth trying to get his way, the fire in his belly still alight.

"Indeed it is ours, General Yeltsin, but if we are away for too long who knows what may happen." Rudin clapped the side of his horse. "Let's go make sure the People's Army does not get lost on its way back!"

Some of the men who had overheard Rudin's quip laughed. Rudin and Yeltsin made their way to the front of the army, which was currently proceeding through the mountain-ridge that separated the Many States from the Cellaphis and Bascinian lands. Rudin felt a swell of pride rush through him as he looked on at his army, snaking its way across. A stranger would not have noticed that the army had been through several wars in only a handful of months. They were warworn, yes, but there was so many of them and they were singing now, the melody of their voices booming across and beyond, to the rest of the world. Such a force could never be stopped. Rudin believed this with every fiber of his soul.

"Zakhary will want to know how many died during the fighting," Yeltsin said, interrupting Rudin's ruminations. "He will want to know how many we lost, and what we were able to take."

"Zakhary and his damned numbers!" Rudin cried out. "Sometimes I wonder if he would be better fit as the people's librarian, rather than the voice of the masses!"

Yeltsin laughed. "It is tiring, for sure. But I suppose it is all for a reason."

"All for a reason? Of course it's all for a reason! My dear friend, without people like Zakhary this entire little party of ours would be ruined!"

"I know, I know. Can I not aire some of my grievances?"

"You can aire as many grievances as you like," Rudin said. "Just make sure I am well and drunk when you begin!"