Violent Contents

By Karl Mrazik

Take a journey following the tale of a group of spirits and see the unfolding of several crucial moments in history from their perspective, from Alexander's siege of tyre, to the battle of the Teutoburg Forest which lead to the defeat of the roman army by an alliance of Germanic people, the events involving the Golden Horde of the east, the tale

• Language: English
• Publisher: Go To Publish
• Release date: May 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781647494377

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Violent Contents

Copyright © 2021 by Karl Mrazik

ISBN-13: ePub: 978-1-64749-437-7

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions.No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

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Contents

Preface

Alexander’s Siege of Tyre

Prelude

The Old Sea

The Silent Partners

Through the Town

Digging for Sand

A Starry Night

The Coming of Day

Seems Like Old Times

The Forest of Tuteberg Wald

The Praetorians

The Soft Symphony

The Bathhouse

A Little Dream

One of those Mornings

The Road North

A Walk in the Woods

The Golden Horde

Peasant’s Dawn

A Regular Chore

A Night of Fires

In Pursuit of the Horde

The Circular Camp

Zata Lana

Now We Ride

Cortés and Montezuma

The Storm

Lazy Days

A Town is Born

The Accord

The Excursion

Monsters in a Magic Forest

Three Days

The March to Tenochtitlan

The City on the Lake

Around the Town

Our Side

We Are Live

Payment Due

Muddy Ground

The Drive On Moscow

A Day at the Office

The Assignment

Into the Motherland

Flowers from Children

Settling Down

On to Moscow

A Dream with a Visit from an Old Friend

The Dream with Zata Lana’s Return

The Dream with Avat Ra

Awakening

The Encounter

The Last Window

Preface

From our most ancient days, very different people from even the most remote corners of the world have expressed the belief that some form of nonhuman intelligence somehow communicated with them. I have been intrigued by and objectively studied this phenomenon for decades, but I still don’t know what it means. Some believe that it’s merely human nature, but I think the phenomenon is too specific and too widespread to be dismissed so easily. Others have built religions around this phenomenon, but I don’t think we know enough about the communicators to exalt them in such a manner. I propose another possibility that lies somewhere between those two extremes, something less definitive but more disturbing. To put forth this proposition, I have written a novel that follows a fictional group of spirits across five crucial moments in our history. My purpose for doing so was to entertain you and to stimulate your sense of wonder. It was a difficult and often overwhelming task. At times, the material seemed so grand, and I felt so small; but I persisted. It is my hope that you will find in the pages that follow enjoyment, curiosity, thrills, horror, humor, a fleeting glimpse of a possible truth and perhaps even an individual or collective redemption for which none of us ever needed to ask. These stories belong to us all.

Alexander’s Siege of Tyre

A Time of Expansion

In the spring of 332 Before the Common Era, with the Hellenic League under his tenuous control and his most powerful enemy, Darius of Persia defeated at the battle of Issus, Alexander prepared to march his armies against Babylon itself. Only the fortified naval base on the island city of Tyre remained as a thorn in his side. Before he could move against Babylon, Tyre would have to be destroyed.

Prelude

My name is Loh Nes. I will be the teller of these tales, but I am not their architect. I’m just part of a team that was assigned to observe and interact with a nasty group of spirits that we have been shadowing for some time now as a small part of a much larger operation. I was able to stay grounded in this world with the help of a seemingly unremarkable human host. My job was to slip in unnoticed, do my bit and get out without having any discernable impact on the physical realm. I was chosen to perform this role because I once had a certain notoriety amongst the bad guys, but you’ll learn all about that as we go. I’ll start here in Tyre, but it was not the beginning.

The Old Sea

I remember standing on top of a castle wall overlooking the eastern Mediterranean. The sun was bright. The sky was clear. The waves were gentle. I perceived everything through the eyes of a young fellow named Moti. His face was sweaty, and he turned toward the breeze whenever it blew. His attention remained fixed toward the sea. Being inside his mind, I could perceive his thoughts and sensations. I remember thinking how good it was to feel alive again. From behind, I could hear men’s shouts resonating from the courtyard below. They weren’t shouting about anything urgent. They were yelling to one another, pointing things out to their friends or laughing at the antics of their children. These sounds were mixed with clanking hooves and the wheels of laden carts rolling on stone streets. It was all very ordinary, but, to me, it was exhilarating. Moti periodically glanced down toward the noises, but he didn’t let it distract him from the sea. I didn’t know what it was, but he was waiting for something.

Some soldiers walked passed us. They were all taller than Moti. He stood just barely above their elbows. Yes, Moti was a small man. He made his way in the world by dutifully performing menial tasks for soldiers. He’d help out in the kitchens, mend their garments and bring them whatever they needed. He worked hard, and his pleasures were simple. In exchange for the long, tedious hours, Moti secured for himself the scraps left by men of war, a bowl of gruel here, some fruit and bread there and, of course, wine; the soldiers always had a lot of wine.

The most important part of this arrangement for Moti was the protection it offered. As a small man, he was often a target of abuse, but by being in the company of soldiers that would protect their helper; he could live with less fear. Personal safety was Moti’s primary concern, so he drifted through life without direction or cause. He was a loner and a wanderer with neither responsibilities nor ambitions; and that made many things possible.

The island of Tyre was an ideal place for such a man. It was a fortress separated from the mainland by a channel wide enough to be an imposing barrier to any forces coming from the land. Tyre was used as a base of operations for traders and raiders and folks like that. The defenses were built up over the years. All around, there were high walls right up against the shore. It was an island castle with towers and turrets and posts for archers all around. The only entrance to the harbor was narrow and well protected by a formidable navy.

Of late, however, a very large army was in the process of building a land bridge to connect the island bastion to the mainland. From things he overheard, Moti knew something fantastic was about to happen. He saw a squadron of triremes come racing from behind the castle. Triremes were typical enough, small vessels with metal prows rowed by teams of men with bulging muscles. He had seen those before. It was what they towed that excited Moti: a massive pile of black ooze. It was a barge bigger than anything he had seen float before. It was loaded with logs and broken scraps of wood and anything that would burn. All of it was soaked in naphtha, which was essentially just crude oil and sulphur mixed together. Above this slimy black mass, two very large cauldrons filled to the brim with more naphtha wavered above the decks splattering more black ooze with every sway.

The plan was simple. The defenders of Tyre were going to smash that flammable mass into the invader’s land bridge, turn it into a fiery inferno and knock it into the sea. As far I could figure out, for at least the last several days, Tyre’s navy had been trying to stop the invaders from building their land bridge by firing arrows at them from their ships. That slowed them down a bit, but, to protect their workers, the invaders made curtains out of animal skins and went back about their business. They even put two towers at the end of their work area so their own archers could fire back at the triremes to keep them away. Now, the defenders of Tyre were about to slam the giant, naphtha covered barge right into the whole structure.

Moti watched the triremes as their oars rose out of the water and arced forward in almost perfect unison. Water rolled off their blades before they plunged back into the sea. Once the vessels got close enough, the men on the triremes cut the ropes and broke away in both directions. As they broke off, two men on the back of the barge tossed some torches forward to ignite the naphtha and jumped overboard. This is it, Moti thought. The moment was at hand.

That barge hit with the kind of thud that resonates through your whole body. I can still feel it now. There was one loud BOOMPF, and the invaders leapt into action in a feverish attempt to squelch the fire. Seemingly in vain, men were running, shouting and burning as they attacked the fire with hides or sand or anything they could find. Their efforts were hampered by a squadron of archer-laden triremes that fired hundreds of arrows into the chaos.

Undeterred, Alexander’s soldiers fought the archers and the flames, but their heroic effort was ill advised as the ropes holding up the naphtha cauldrons were burning through. Once the first cauldron dropped, the whole scene was immersed by a fiery blast. I still remember the screams of men whose flesh was on fire. Some were trapped in towers. Some were jumping into the sea. Others were surrounded by flames with their faces twisted in the most unnatural contortions of agony. I don’t know whether they were stuck or just disoriented by the pain, but they tried to reach toward the sky as though they thought they could raise themselves out of the flames.

It was a macabre scene, and even the most trivial details are still etched in my memory. I remember the white foamy border between the blue of the sea, the tan hue of the fresh timber and the dark brown ropes that held the wood together. I remember the men, some wearing glistening armor, some wearing open brown shirts. Some were slapping at the fire with wet hides while others were running back and forth throwing buckets of sand at the flames. Behind them, there was a skirmish as Tyre’s navy landed some troops closer to shore. I remember seeing men thrusting their swords into one another and falling to arrows. I don’t remember who was killing whom and still don’t care.

The strange thing about it is, with all this going on, what I remember most was the smoke. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because of the smell: pungent, acrid and bittersweet, but that’s what I remember most: the huge clouds of billowing, black smoke slowly rising upward into the otherwise pristine sky; and above it all, a lone seagull was flying around in a circle peering down at the unwelcome interruption to its daily routine.

It only seemed like a few moments before the ships were heading back to Tyre. The sights and sounds of the frenzied melee soon quieted. Men from the shore surveyed the scene of twisted corpses, whose silent black silhouettes glowed eerily through the crackling flames. The men couldn’t look away. I can see them now. They still seem to cry out for revenge. Unknown to them, their real enemy was something they never even knew existed.

The Silent Partners

Moti was sitting on the ramparts watching the sunset. He relaxed, sat back and felt the cool of the stone penetrate his shirt. Behind him, the fire still burned. He breathed deeply through his nose and noticed the strange smell in the air. It was a combination of burning oil and embers of wood with a hint of burning human flesh, a unique scent that stays with you forever. As it grew dark, Moti wondered why people did such things to one another and how things could turn out so wrong between them. Then he was distracted by the sounds of life. From the taverns and halls below, we could hear the drunken shouts of soldiers celebrating their victory. At times, the shouts came from the streets as the drunken men were meandering from place to place.

Moti became excited when he saw a woman come out onto the ramparts. It was someone he knew. She was holding a basket covered with white linen. Once she felt she wasn’t being watched, she quickly scampered over to Moti and put the basket between them. I knew I’d find you here, she said as she cheerfully threw her arms around him and kissed him on the lips.

Hi Effie, said Moti with genuine enthusiasm.

Effie was a fair woman with a kind and gentle nature. She made her way in the world much the way Moti did. She stayed close to the soldiers, helped in the kitchens and such; but her services were often of a more carnal nature. Her appearance was unspectacular. She was pretty enough to excite in the soldiers a passing desire but plain enough where they wouldn’t want her for very long. Her features were ordinary, but, in Moti’s eyes, they were exquisitely ordinary and combined as a whole to create a soft loveliness that fit her character.

Look what I got for us, she said bubbling with excitement as she pulled the white linen off the basket. I got us some bread, some fruit, some wine and two of the goblets they’re using at the king’s table, she exclaimed, holding them up as though they were trophies. We might not be able to sit at the king’s table, but tonight we can drink out of the same cups. As she spoke, she nodded with defiance and self-affirmation. She carefully poured the wine and gave the first elaborate cup to Moti. Once she filled the second cup, she looked to Moti with eager anticipation.

It’s a fine cup, he said. As he went to take a sip, I made him gulp it all down. She took her first sip with her eyes closed as though she wanted to imagine herself at the king’s table, a respected member of the city. Did they tell you what happened today? asked Moti as he held out his glass to be refilled.

Not really. I mean, I know the soldiers won a prize, and that they would have a festival. So, I planned this as soon as I heard, she added with a sinister grin as she refilled his cup.

After a short time, the door on one of the parapets burst open and a large group of men, eight by my count, boisterously strutted onto the ramparts. The group was on a walkway at a right angle to Moti and heading to look at the still burning bridge. They were loud, drunk and jovial. Moti couldn’t make out their faces on the torch-lit ramparts. It’s the king, gasped Effie as one of the king’s guards broke from the others and took a few steps toward her in as straight a line as his drunkenness would allow.

Effie, he asserted as he stood waiting for her to come to him. Effie pretended not to hear in the hopes that he might become distracted and go away. Effie, bring us more wine.

She quickly rose to her duty and scampered toward the guard. I’ll be right back, she informed him with a gentle smile before darting for the parapet stairs. In a few moments, she returned and filled their glasses. They held out their glasses but, otherwise, took no notice of her at all. That is, except for the last guard. His eyes stay fixed on her as she poured his wine. He took a deliberate sip then tossed the cup over the wall.

I’ll need another goblet, he said as he took hold of her arm. I’ll come with you, he added as he walked her out of sight.

Moti watched the guard walk away with Effie for reasons of which there could be little doubt. For a moment, I was worried that he might overreact to such an event; but Moti wasn’t the sort to let such things disturb him. He saw it as unfortunate that she was called away, but he didn’t regard it as catastrophic. His thoughts were centered on hiding the basket and the goblets from the king’s entourage. He poured the wine from both goblets into his own plain cup and gulped down what couldn’t fit. Then, he covered the goblets in the basket and pushed it between the castle wall and the left side of his body.

Cautiously, he turned his attention to the king’s entourage. At first, he wanted to see if they were paying any attention to him. They were not. So, as loners tend to do, he began to observe them. From where he sat, he could hear their words, their boasts and their laughs. They had just achieved a decisive victory, or so they thought. As he examined them closely, he noticed that he began to feel strange. Being with him as a spirit, I was able to elevate his consciousness to help him perceive things on another level. He felt a surge through his senses and a heightening of his awareness. His vision became blurred, returned to focus and the king’s entourage increased by one, a dark, shadowy figure. Moti blinked and it was gone.

He shook his head, rubbed his eyes and peered back at the king’s entourage very closely. The ninth figure was there again. He didn’t know what was happening, but he focused his attention on that ninth figure. He was larger than the rest and strangely immersed in darkness, a shadowy creature. I should tell you that I am taking creative liberties in describing these beings to you. They are creatures of thought, and my descriptions of them should not be taken literally. They do not have any physical substance and cannot exert any physical force. While their effectiveness, interests and skillsets vary wildly, their power is limited to their ability to perceive through and manipulate people. Throughout human history, they’ve whispered into the minds of emperors, kings, philosophers, generals, poets and Prophets too. They’ve been called angels, ghosts, devils or gods of war, but they call themselves the Oo Sa Pa. I ought to make clear from the start that their definition of Oo Sa Pa is very broad. It has been long used to refer to spirits that endeavor to bring forth the destruction of life, regardless of their motivations or in what capacity they serve that objective. As for me, I was sent by a powerful force to assist in implementing a plan to eradicate them, which was why Moti’s life was about to take an unfortunate turn for the worse.

I knew the fellow standing on the ramparts. His name was Vikaas, and, by Oo Sa Pa standards, he was not particularly exceptional. He broke off from the king’s men and looked out over the smoldering carnage. Moti noticed his eyes, yellow, luminous and fluctuating in their intensity as he changed his focus. He turned toward Moti, and his eyes glowed a little more intensely as he noticed my presence; but he regarded me as incidental and looked away. That’s when Moti noticed that the king’s men could not see this shadow. He did not know why. Intrigued, he watched the creature intently. It stood there silently on the edge of the ramparts looking out over the sea, looking and waiting. That was it, Moti thought. He’s waiting for something. Moti was confused then fascinated about what such a creature would be waiting for.

A group of four other Oo Sa Pa soon joined him on the ramparts. They were different shapes and sizes. The smallest one hopped on the ledge like a wingless gargoyle with sharp teeth and glowing red eyes. He seemed to be a cross between a monkey, a reptile and a crab. His name was Selan, and his skill set was in economics, particularly wartime economics. Amongst the Oo Sa Pa, he was widely regarded as the best there was at his craft. His presence indicated there was some recent concern about finances in the invading army.

There was another smallish fellow. I couldn’t quite make that one out. He kept changing his shape like a formless cloud. Whoever he was, he was very dangerous. Ability to mask one’s identity like that is a skill reserved for the most seasoned of the Oo Sa Pa.

The larger one on the right I knew well. His most prominent feature was what appeared to be small protective horns covering his entire body. He had glowing blue eyes. His name was Lin THU, and he was an old ally from my younger days. We fought side by side through many conflicts, and I taught him many things. He could do it all: economy, industry, rudimentary culture; but his specialty was waging war. In his heart of hearts, he was a warrior through and through. Most considered him among the best. He could be the leader anywhere else, but here he was part of an elite team led by the dark master himself.

The fourth one stood in the center. He was very tall with a broad torso. His head was protected by ram-like horns. On his body, thick, bony armor and pointed protrusions were everywhere. Physically, he was built for combat, and his eyes blazed like fire. His name was Balahloram Disset. He was a builder of worlds. He could be quiet and sophisticated, charming and seductive. He was often pleasant to be around and had a good sense of humor; but he had a distinct blackness about him and a nasty temper. When roused to anger, he seethed fury and unleashed terror upon his opponents. Many respected him. More feared him.

He stepped forward and eyed Vikaas. "Are you the one who attacked my forces with fire?" he asked softly. Though he spoke gently, there was no hiding his imposing demeanor. He conveyed supreme confidence and oozed power.

Vikaas was too terrified to speak but nodded sheepishly.

Do you know him? Balahloram Disset asked his shrouded companion.

The shadowy cloud drifted toward Vikaas and momentarily took shape. A patchy black and gray head with hollow black eyes extended outward like it was protruding from a turtle’s shell. He eyed Vikaas carefully and eerily gasped through his hollow black mouth before drifting backward toward Balahloram Disset. Vikaas, he whispered slowly as though it was a strain. Then, he returned to his shapeless form.

Lin THU, assess Vikaas, Balahloram Disset declared softly.

Vikaas, Vikaas, yes, I remember him: the defender. He’s pretty good at tactical defense but has limited range. This kind of thing is perfect for him: a little fortress. It’ll take us some more resources, but we’ll still be able to overwhelm him and crush Tyre as we planned. It might be fun to just fight it out with him.

Selan, how are my resources?

You’re stabilized, my lord, replied Selan. We should be able to pillage whatever we need to make up for the extra expenditure. Nevertheless, Tyre must be destroyed no matter how much it costs. You’ve already prophesied it.

Agreed, muttered Balahloram Disset before turning his attention toward Vikaas. What are your intentions here? he sharply asked.

Vikaas was shaken and tentative as he replied. I came to this world to hone my skills in defense, shoring up some castles and that sort of thing. Then I heard that you would be here yourself, and I became enthralled. Your run has reminded us all of the old ways. So, when I learned from your prophesy that you would come to Tyre; I devoted myself to helping out with the defenses. I thought if I could make a good stand of it, I could prove myself to be of use to you.

So you used fire because you knew I had a special love for it, Balahloram Disset replied cheerfully. When he was being friendly, there was a quality about him, something magnetic. You see, he said to his allies. This is the kind of consideration you should be looking for from everyone that wants to join our ranks. I like you Vikaas, defender of Tyre. I want you to give your defensive effort everything you have. We’ll be coming at you with overwhelming force, so I’ll count on you to make it interesting. If you can do that, I’ll find more tasks for you in the future.

Nothing has ever delighted me more, my lord, he said in the most obsequious way possible. I believe I have some other information that you might appreciate, he added. He leaned forward, and they began whispering to one another.

All I could make out were indiscernible syllables. By now, Moti was becoming excited. He realized he was in the presence of something unusual and disturbing. As he watched them with wonderment and awe, they abruptly stopped their whispering and turned toward him. The five of them just stood there staring with their eyes glowing intensely. Apparently, Vikaas realized that the others didn’t know I was there. Moti began to tremble and gulped some wine. I could understand that he found it so disconcerting the way they just stood there staring. It made him wonder what they were thinking at that moment.

The formless cloud slowly drifted toward us. Moti’s heart started racing. ‘He’s only a shadow,’ I whispered into Moti’s mind as the cloud drew closer. ‘He’s just curious about my presence with you.’ The cloudy creature started to take shape as its head protruded out and extended slightly behind Moti’s right ear. I looked at the long neck with the patchy black and gray skin. The skin had a strange texture and reeked of death like it had been decaying for years. The creature sniffed behind Moti’s neck. Moti quickly turned, and the two were face to face. I looked at the gray and decaying flesh, the black, hollowed sockets from which the eyes had long since rotted away and hollow black mouth in which there was no tongue. It exhaled a slow gasp, and one could almost smell the slow death that this creature radiated.

Moti was frozen in terror. I ought to tell you here that Moti had been aware of my presence. Through his life, I would communicate with him from time to time, mostly in dreams. Our relationship was kept private, but we had yet to face a situation like this one. I had to intervene. ‘You only need to very softly whisper his name, Nokura,’ I insisted directly into his mind. ‘Do it now!’

Nokura! Moti gasped aloud, and the gray face darted backward. Oh, I knew Nokura. He wasn’t like the others. He was a strange sort, a bringer of plagues. I knew that he would be disturbed by being identified. He drifted back toward the others, whispered something I couldn’t hear and bolted. The other three whispered to one another and stared again. Then, little Selan hissed at us scornfully, and they all faded away.

Through the Town

Moti shook himself as though he had just awoken from a bad dream. He looked in every direction and saw nothing. Except for the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight, the ramparts were empty. The king and his men were gone and so was Effie. He rubbed his eyes and dismissed it all a s a dream.

‘Finish the wine,’ I whispered.

‘Yes, I’ll go downstairs and finish the wine,’ he thought to himself as he packed up his things and scampered down the wooden stairway. With the Oo Sa Pa gone, I returned to my more passive presence.

Now it was Moti’s turn to make me feel uncomfortable as he walked me through the streets of Tyre. I tell you these things because you might be able to understand what it’s like to glide through the world without any real control of where you’re going. It had grown late, and, in the darkness, images came upon us one by one. On the left, a group of men were lurking in the shadows. On the right, a man lifted his robe and defecated in the street. We came to a tall thin man wearing a filthy white garment. He eyed us as he rubbed his genitals. We avoided him and bumped into a fat man with a ruddy face. He took a gulp from a jug and laughed drunkenly. His teeth were brown and not all there. He had a hairy chest and a sweaty pink belly. He farted as we walked past him. On the left, a man was fucking a woman. On the right, a man was fucking a man. We went straight and kept our eyes on the ground. Such was night in the old city of Tyre, on this night anyway, in this part of town.

Moti darted left between two buildings. He quickly turned right, left, right again, and I was lost. He stopped between a pile of sacks and a flimsy stick fence. There was a blanket there. He sat down and threw it over his head. He gulped down the rest of the wine straight from the jug and lay down to sleep, to sleep and to dream and back to my turn.

In his dream, Moti stood on a platform that floated over the center of the city. Shadows swirled above with tails fading off like comets. They were groaning, wailing, chanting and laughing in deep, imposing laughs. Other shadows crawled on the walls. Others walked through the streets sniffing and inspecting.

They’re everywhere, Moti observed to me.

When they mass like this, things tend to get bloody, I replied. In the dream world, I was a familiar presence, and there was no need to explain myself. Here, Moti knew and trusted me. Over the years,