The Bells Are Silent
AUTHOR'S MESSAGE: This is story is inspired by the song 'One Tin Soldier' from the movie 'Billy Jack'. I have included the first two verses if this beautiful, moving and terrifying song for context:
Listen children to a story
That was written long ago
'Bout a kingdom on a mountain
And the valley folk below
On the mountain was a treasure
Buried deep beneath a stone
And the valley people swore
They'd have it for their very own
Go ahead and hate your neighbor
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of Heaven
You can justify it in the end
There won't be any trumpets blowin'
Come the judgement day
On the bloody mornin' after
One tin soldier rides away
So the people of the valley
Sent a message up the asking for
The buried treasure
Tons of gold for which they'd kill
Came an answer from the kingdom
With our brothers we will share
All the secrets of our mountain
All the riches buried there
Go ahead and hate your neighbor
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of Heaven
You can justify it in the end
There won't be any trumpets blowin'
Come the judgement day
On the bloody mornin' after
One tin soldier rides away
The story is a retelling of the last verse of the song (which is the terrifying bit), but the worldbuilding, characters and details are my own.
***
The stench is unbearable. It smells like this everywhere in the city. There is a light wind blowing, but it does nothing to freshen the air, just blowing the smell from one place to another. The windows are dark, the lamps are either shattered on the cobbles, or empty and black as the void.
When I was here last, the city was full of sound – people going about their business, donkeys braying as they pulled carts laden with beautiful fabrics, doves cooing in the hundreds of belfries. The bells had tolled incessantly, ringing out over the red terracotta roofs, reminding the city it was at peace.
It's silent now, except for the tramp of feet through the narrow streets. They're far too narrow to get an entire army through, not with the ceremony we need to. The army had split into regiments, each leading part of the procession down another street to the palace at the city's center. The blue stone is in the palace courtyard. I am the spy who found it. To me, it doesn't matter what treasure is buried there, it's not worth an entire city in lives.
The people in the City of Bells had known for years that our king coveted their treasure – they should have been ready when we came, but they were nowhere near. I'm almost sorry they weren't.
The men had come to meet us as we marched up the narrow road, that contained dozens of hairpin bends. Most strategists fear an uphill battle, but we specialize in it - you have to if you live in a narrow, war-torn valley.
It was ironic that the overly polished armor of our opponents had glinted gold in the light of the rising sun, because we cut them down like corn.
The gilded, jewel-studded gates didn't hold long against our battering rams, either. The men who had stayed inside the city walls had no chance, for victory within view drives a man wild with desire for it. Then the order had come: "Kill them all!" Our men beat the doors down, raiding the houses and killing everyone inside – mostly women and children. I'm not sure what is worse: the eerie, dead silence; or the screaming that had quickly followed our entry into the city.
I nearly walk into one of the king's personal bodyguards as we came to a halt in the palace courtyard. The blue stone is still there, now utterly unprotected. It looks oddly out of place in the middle of all the blood. When all the parts of the procession have reached the courtyard, the king steps up onto a small step beside the stone to make his speech.
"Today is a historic day for our people. Today, our fate has changed entirely: from conquered to conquerors, powerless to mightiest of all. But our wealth has also changed. With this treasure, we have everything we need to rebuild tour fallen empire."
Perfectly on cue, the team of half a dozen Clydesdale horses pull at the ropes fastened around the stone. The trumpets blast out a fanfare and the king's standard climbs the flagpole before the palace. But it doesn't take long for everyone to realize there was no treasure under the stone.
All four escape routes I'd planned are blocked by a furious crowd.
The king calmly raises his hand and asks the strongest men to roll the stone over, lest there be a clue hidden beneath it. This is done, accompanied by less enthusiastic fanfare than the first. The stone is too high – if there is a clue underneath it, no-one stands high enough to see it.
A page darts into the palace and emerges a few moments later on a balcony. Within view of the entire assembled crowd, the boy bursts into tears, sliding down against the railing.
A handful of soldiers storm to where he's seated. They, too, look aghast at the bottom of the stone.
"For goodness' sake, what does it say?" the king bellows.
One soldier's lips move, but whatever he said was inaudible.
Another hesitantly fills in: "Peace on Earth, my lord. It says Peace on Earth."
