Red Giant - Part 3

RED GIANT
Part 3: The Nuptials of Attila

451 AD – The edge of the Rhine River
The fire seem to draw the men in. It’s dancing flames called to them like a deadly lover, wanting to embrace them forever. Around the fire they sat - drinking, eating, resting - all of them thinking about the coming morn, when they would ride into Germany and tread upon the Catalaunian Plains. Warriors all of them. Conquerors.

Attila finished his meal and threw the bones into the crackling fire. He had had his fill first and the six men around the fire would soon follow suit. By his side, his trusted commander Hekter did not partake in the meal, instead he kept his watchful eye on events outside of their little circle. The night had to be watched – always.

Buatoon took a bite of meat and while chewing said, "Ey, give us a story someone. A good ,bloody story to help past the night. I grow restless for my sword."

There was a bit of rumbling from the others, and then a sound none of them expected came almost from within the fire itself, "I have a tale."

It was Attila.

Buatoon turned to Attila and muttered, "I...I did not mean you great Attila. I would never demand anything from you."

"No. It is fine. I do have a tale if you would like to hear it. It is of my Father, and Grandfather. And yes, it ends in blood." Attila’s face glowed and he moved closer to the heat.

Looking at his comrades, they all seemed as surprised as him, Buatoon stuttered again "Y...yes my lord. Please tale the tale."

Attila leans back and adjusts his sword so that it won’t dig into his side and begins...

"Soon after the great flood my grandfather Nimrod was one of the first mighty men to show the true weakness of the Christian God. Through his power, Nimrod ruled a vast empire, of which the city of Babylon was the crown jewel. Babylon flourished back in those days, so much so that it was home to Nimrod’s greatest achievement – the Tower of Babel. This tower was his show of spite for a God that held no meaning for his people. Years and years of construction and the tower loomed over all. To speed the process Nimrod recruited men from far away lands. Men that could not speak the same language but had a common goal. Likeminded not in language but in spirit. But there were traitors amongst them. Men of low character that plotted against Nimrod and succeeded in bringing the tower down. Only rubble is left in Babylon where the tower once proudly stood. This broke my grandfathers will. Along with the tower, Nimrod was crushed and would never recover. In his depression he called upon his mother, Shemiramis. She comforted him in this troubling time and gave him reassurance in his greatness. Nimrod, feeling his days were numbered and without an heir, bedded Shemiramis. She gave birth to my father Mundzuk – a full-blooded heir to the kingdom. My father ruled with an iron fist. His power is legendary, but with all his greatness there was one thing lacking in Mundzuk – his ability to seed his wives. Over many years, and countless attempts, his longing for a son failed. In disgrace he would kill each of his wives, in a way taking his anger and disappoint in himself out on them. Soon no women would wed my father for fear of death. Many years passed and Mundzuk grew weary, he needed a powerful and strong heir – but how? And from whom? He, much like his father before him, turned to his mother and a sorcerer from the east. The sorcerer told him there was one who could produce such a powerful heir that history would recall his name for eternity. Mundzuk demanded to know the name of the man that would supply such an heir. "Goliath." spoke the sorcerer.

My father and his mother traveled to where the great giant rested, armed with the sorcerer’s instructions. Goliath, the Philistine warrior that David slew, now forever in service to the living subjugator’s of the Christian God, took Mundzuk’s mother over and over. Out of his loins spewed the venom of the ages. The night was long. Soon thereafter my father had his heir – I Attila, whose true father rests in the earth with a face of the wolf and the voice of hell, was born under skies like tonight. Mundzuk’s mother did not survive the birth. Her body delivered back to Goliath, for whatever purpose he had in store for her."

The men around the dying fire stare at Attila. Not sure of what they just heard. Their eyes glazed and hypnotized.

Attila continued, "Many years later, Mundzuk told me this tale. He instructed me to never speak of my heritage. That people must not know of whom, and of where, I came from. With his instructions I murdered him then and there. Much like I will now murder you all."

Attila moves like a jackal, unsheathing his sword like mercury. The men have no time – Attila performs exactly 4 moves and their heads fall to the ground. Blood sprays the air and dances in the sky. Attila looks upward to the crescent moon and the two stars within its cradle. The falling blood begins to speckle his face.

"Who breathed on the king cold breath?
Said a voice amid the host,
He is Death that weds a ghost,
Else a ghost that weds with Death?
Ildico's chill little hand
Shuddering he beheld: austere
Stared, as one who would command
Sight of what has filled his ear:
Plucked his thin beard, laughed disdain.
Feast, ye Huns! His arm be raised,
Like the warrior, battle-dazed,
Joining to the fight amain.
Make the bed for Attila!"

From the Poem, "The Nuptials of Attila"