by Phil Tucker
Jarek sought a response, a way to convince her. Nothing came to mind.
But... it is as you say. The balance must be redressed, even in some small measure. Even if that opens the possibility of revolution. I grant your wish, son of Alok. For a day, my servant shall go where you direct, and you shall be free of the power of its aura.
Jarek felt a thrill of victory. “Thank you, my lady. Thank you.”
Twice you have visited my realm before your time, she said. The third time, you shall not leave. I shall see you soon, son of Alok.
Her words hit Jarek with punishing force and he reeled back - but the vortex of ash was gone. He sat athwart the dream rhino’s shoulders with only the endless steppe extending in all directions before him, the sun’s uppermost edge now visible over the horizon.
I shall see you soon, son of Alok. How soon? Was his death imminent? Wiping the sweat from his brow, he pivoted where he crouched and saw Kish keeping pace off to the right. The sight of her flooded him with resolve, and he lifted a fist high into the air. The sound of her victory cry brought a grin to his face, even as Nekuul’s words continued to resound in his mind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Acharsis fought the urge to spit. Instead, he tongued the dusty interior of his mouth, unable to leave his wobbly tooth alone, and looked out through the bars.
Two days they’d been held prisoner by the Athites, and for two days they’d been largely ignored. From their cage he could see a large line of tents arrayed before him, a narrow path winding its way between them and the next row. Women and children hurried back and forth, busy with domestic tasks that he couldn’t be bothered to figure out. Still, he smiled at every person who looked his way, bobbed his head, seeking some flicker of empathy or concern in whichever dark gaze he could hold.
Didn’t find any.
Sighing, he leaned his shoulder against the wooden bar and looked at where the others lay. The bars overhead provided precious little shade, and this - combined with the minimal water rations they were given - meant that all of them were parched and burned. Elu lay with his head in Annara’s lap, while Sisu sat in the far corner, head lolling back, sleeping uneasily.
Acharsis placed his pebble back in his mouth and sucked slowly at it, letting his spit form and provide him with an illusion of water. The bulk of the men would be back soon from whatever hunts or raids they left on each day. The camp would fill with the sound of their cries and laughter, dust washing over the tents as hundreds of horses came stamping in to be corralled. Women and children would rush to greet their husbands, and music would start up, life shattering the serenity of the camp. Any moment now.
“You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?” asked Annara softly.
Acharsis turned to regard her. “I thought you were asleep.”
“You should know better.”
Acharsis nodded. How could she rest while Elu was in danger? For all his ferocity and bid for independence, he was still but a youth, and had sought comfort from his mother after being thrown in this cage. “Fair enough. And… yes. I’m waiting for him. But to be honest, I can’t imagine what he could do.”
“I know. If he had his powers still…”
It was a conversation they’d had many times already. If Jarek still had Alok's blessing, then maybe he could take on an entire nomad city - but without it? Acharsis spent the first day racking his brains to figure out a genuine escape plan, not the obvious trap that lay open before them with their flimsy gate and flimsier lock. He’d had to physically bar Sisu from trying to escape last night, had been forced to stiff-arm the Nekuulite away from the door, explaining for the second time how breaking free in such a manner would only lead to days of torment and pain.
“There has to be a way out,” he muttered. “Feign death? No. Hard to convince people you’re dead when they give you an experimental stab. Reveal our true natures? Too risky. They’d probably hand us off to Irella in exchange for some gain. Pretend to have a vision? Fake a prophecy? Possible.” He tapped his chin.
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“Give up?” He made a face. “Why ever would I give up?”
“We’re surrounded by thousands of Athites. You told us yourself how impossible it is to escape them, on foot or on horse; how Athite slaves remain such for the rest of their lives. Anybody else would be despairing. But you’re still trying to figure out a way.”
“Course I am,” he said, roping his arms around his knees. “There’s always a way. Always. The solution to any problem under Qun’s blazing sun is perseverance plus thought. There’s nothing that can’t be done if you just set your mind to it long enough.”
“How long will they keep us in this cage?”
“They’ll hold us here until we try to escape. Not trying will only make us worthless in their eyes, completely without spirit, and they’ll start reducing our water until we die. So. We’ll have to make a go of it within a week or so. I’m thinking… perhaps we break free, but don’t flee into the steppe. Instead, we try to hide within the camp.” He tapped his chin again. “It’s large enough that conceivably we could pretend to be someone else’s slaves on an errand. Everybody might think we’re on someone else’s business and leave us alone. We hide at night under—I don’t know—boxes, or hay, or whatever… and wait until they strike camp and move. Then we endeavor to be left behind with the rest of the camp refuse.”
Annara sat up. “Do you think that could work?”
“Could it? Yes. Is it likely to? No.” Acharsis sighed. “The camp remains would be picked over by the poorest of the Athites, who would discover us pretty quickly. And the odds of our surviving hidden in the camp itself until they pack up and move? A camp this large only moves once every few months. We’d have to survive for weeks without being apprehended, and we’re a distinctive lot. So… no. I’ll just add that to my growing pile of desperate stratagems.”
Distant cries filtered through the air, familiar from the evening before: high-pitched whoops and shrill calls that signalled the approach of the main host. Acharsis opened and closed his left hand, massaging the fingers that had been sprained in the fight. “We’ll think of something. There has to be a way.”
She was watching him. Not speaking, just watching, and running her fingers through their son’s hair. He could feel her gaze even as he looked out through the bars. “I’ll get us out, Annara. I’ll get him out. I promise you.”
“I’d laugh, but after Rekkidu I’m inclined to believe your reckless promises.” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her.
He chanced a glance in her direction. “Perseverance plus time.”
“That formula is missing an element. Perseverance, plus time, plus Acharsis.”
“Careful,” he said. “That sounds dangerously close to a compliment.”
“Maybe it was.”
“I thought you were inexplicably furious with me in a way that makes perfect sense only if you’re a woman.”
She canted her head to one side. “See? It’s comments like that that get you in trouble.”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
“You are. And... thank you. I’ve been meaning to say it.”
“You’re welcome. But what for?”
“For trying to protect Elu and I when the Athites came.”
“Oh, come on.” He looked away, back to the dusky path between the tents where children and women were hurrying. “You make it sound noble, to defend—” He cut himself off. To defend your woman and son.
She didn’t respond. Bleak despair fought to get its claws in him. The odds were terrible. A realist would make peace with their new life as a slave. Start thinking about how best to please the Athites, how to gain their trust, how to wrest independence from them. Instead, here he was, furiously trying to imagine a means of escape that had even the slightest chance of success. Perseverance plus time plus Acharsis. It might make Annara feel better to believe it, but he knew better. They were fucked.
Sisu
startled and sat up with a cry, arms rising to ward off a blow. He blinked, came to himself, then sagged back against the bars. “Not a dream, then.”
“No,” said Acharsis. “At least, not my kind of dream.”
“Don’t ask him,” said Annara. “He’s just hoping for an excuse to be lewd.”
“How can you be so cheerful about this?” asked Sisu. He hugged himself. “Unless you’ve come up with a plan to escape?”
“Not yet,” said Acharsis, trying to sound cheerful. “But a plan is imminent.”
“Imminent,” said Sisu. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself ending up as an Athite slave. And I won’t.” A new surety entered his voice. “I’ll tell them who I am. They’ll give me back to my mother.”
“You sure you want that?” asked Acharsis.
“It’s better than being a slave.”
“I don’t see how it would be so different. After your past… indiscretions… I doubt Irella will be very tolerant of your idiosyncrasies. You’ll be made to work night and day. Watched by guards. Forced to live the rest of your life out in her service. That what you want?”
Sisu turned away, staring out the bars toward the steppe beyond. “Better beds, at any rate.”
“Yes, yes, better beds, better whips, all sorts of—what is it?”
Sisu had stiffened and turned around altogether so that he was on his knees, gripping the bars and staring out at the dusk.
“Sisu?” Annara shook Elu, who sat up in confusion. “What is it?”
Acharsis hurried over to the other side of the cage and stared into the gloom. It took him a moment to catch sight of what Sisu had seen. “A dream rhino?”
“Coming this way?” asked Annara, moving to crouch beside them.
“Impossible,” said Acharsis. “They shy away from people. It’s well known that they avoid camps.”
“Well known?” asked Sisu. “That one’s coming right for us.”
Shouts rose up from beyond the tents.
“Looks like the Athites have noticed, too,” said Annara.
A dozen horsemen rode into view, galloping across the flattened grass and bare dirt where flocks of goats had been grazing for a few months. Another group rode in from the other side. Breathless, Acharsis watched as the two groups reached the dream rhino then parted before it to circle and come riding back at a furious gallop.
“They don’t look happy,” said Acharsis.
“That’s good, right?” Elu was peering over his shoulder. “Whatever upsets them is good for us?”
The horsemen rode out of sight.
“Hard to say just yet,” said Acharsis.
Sisu knelt and clasped his hands before him. “My lady Nekuul has sensed my plight. She sends her sacred servant to save me.”
“Hard to say,” said Acharsis again, seesawing his head from one side to the other. “But… unlikely?”
“There’s someone riding the rhino,” said Elu. “Look. Can you make him out?”
“Hmm?” Acharsis pressed his face to the bars. The dream rhino was a dark blur, moving ever closer, the glowing purple horn reducing the rest of its mass to a shadow. “You sure it’s a him?”
“That, or a very large lady with broad shoulders and some beard,” said Elu.
“Jarek?” asked Annara.
“Can’t be,” said Acharsis. “Can it?”
A wave of horsemen rode out, blazing torches held aloft. About a hundred of them, Acharsis guessed. They flowed down to the dream rhino and there began to circle it, whooping and crying out and waving their flaming brands.
The rhino continued to placidly walk straight toward the camp. After a minute, the horsemen hurled their torches into the grass before the rhino and rode back a few hundred yards to wait and watch.
The rhino’s horn pulsed brightly, and the flames died down and then disappeared. Smoke rose from the extinguished brands, and the rhino walked calmly over them.
“It must be Jarek,” said Annara. “But how?”
“This couldn’t happen without Nekuul’s blessing,” snapped Sisu. “If it’s him, then she’s using him to save me.”
“Fine, yes,” said Acharsis. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that he makes it all the way here. Look.”
More horsemen were riding out. Hundreds now, the entire force of the camp. They rode with spears held aloft, silently now, their intent lethal. The original group turned and joined ranks, drawing their own weapons as they galloped toward the approaching rhino.
“They mean to kill it,” said Annara.
“Or wound it enough from a safe distance to drive it away,” said Acharsis. “The Athites wouldn’t dare risk Nekuul’s displeasure so openly.”
“Or kill Jarek,” said Elu darkly. “If he’s controlling it, then killing him would free it to act normally.”
“Damn,” said Acharsis. He could barely make out the figure riding on the rhino’s massive shoulders.
Four or five hundred Athite nomads were pounding down toward the rhino, the sheer force of their charge making the ground vibrate even at this remove. Acharsis gripped the bars with both hands. He couldn’t do anything but watch as the distance between the rhino and its attackers shrank. Five hundred yards. Four hundred. Its aura was, what—twenty feet or so? The nomads would be able to hurl their spears as they rode by. Jarek didn’t stand a chance.
Three hundred yards. On they charged, the warriors rising with impossible grace, guiding their mounts with their knees alone. This was why the nomads were so feared. Why they’d almost taken the River Cities two decades ago. Their speed, mobility and ferocity made them unimaginably dangerous foes. You couldn’t clinch with them, couldn’t force them into a toe-to-toe fight. They would ride endlessly past your forces, peppering them, harrowing them, whittling them down. Whenever you charged, they melted away like mist. It was like boxing with shadows. Only the combined forces of the gods had allowed Acharsis and his fellow demigods to drive them forth, and even then only once the nomads had taken cities they sought to hold.
Two hundred yards. Spears were raised aloft. On came the rhino, each step covering a tremendous span of land. Acharsis’ pulse was racing. He couldn’t breathe. Jarek’s tiny figure seemed impossibly vulnerable and exposed atop the rhino’s back.
It was hard to make out the remaining distance now, but there were but seconds left. Acharsis closed his eyes and mouthed a prayer to his father, Ekillos; sought to not rush through the words, to not let his despair color them, the knowledge that his father couldn’t hear his plea. Wouldn’t be able to intercede even if he could.
“Look!” Sisu’s cry made Acharsis’ eyes snap open. The dream rhino’s horn was flaring brightly, making it hard to look at directly, casting forth a brilliance that silhouetted the riders even from this distance. The gray corona of dead grass surged out from around the rhino’s feet, expanding rapidly to where the riders were galloping, surprising them and causing them to scream and turn their horses aside, ruining the charge.
Then they began to fall.
Their horses reared, kicking their front legs, or fell over onto their sides to roll and thrash amidst the trampled grass. Their riders cried out, dropped their spears, threw up their arms or flailed at the air as if assailed by demons. Hundreds of them milled about, many tripping and falling over their brothers, their piteous wails rising as visions assailed them.
“By Ekillos,” whispered Acharsis. Never had he seen the like. The entire attacking force was undone, a maelstrom of hooves and screams. Those at the very rear of the group wheeled away in panic and raced back toward the camp.
Sisu laughed and gave the bars a shake. “Taste the wrath of the goddess of death, you heathen bastards. Bow down! You’d do well to kneel, to beg for mercy, though it would be for naught! My mistress spares nobody, and—”
“Easy there,” said Acharsis, giving Sisu’s shoulder a squeeze. “Look. He’s still coming.”
And indeed, he was. The dream rhino continued its placid appr
oach, its horn now glowing normally once more, and to Acharsis’ horror it began to wade through the morass of fallen warriors. Each foot was the size of a tent, and swooped down to crush the fallen beneath its sole without mercy or hesitation. The screams took on a new tenor, and still the rhino came.
“Don’t watch,” said Annara, reaching up to turn Elu’s chin, but he blocked her hand and kept his gaze focused on the carnage below.
“Elu, come help me with this,” said Acharsis, moving to the prison door.
“You’re being obvious,” said Elu. “You’re just trying to please my mother.”
“No, I’m trying to make sure we can escape when the moment presents itself. Unless you’d rather prove how tough you are at the expense of getting out of here?”
Elu scowled and hurried over. Outside, Acharsis could hear the cries and wails of the Athites as panic stole over the camp.
The door was lashed together with oiled rope and firmly knotted on the far side. It would take hours to undo, and their guards had never bothered to actually open the door; what food and water they were given was passed to them through the bars or simply thrown down on the ground.
“Here,” said Acharsis. “Take turns with me.” So saying, he stepped back, bit his lower lip, then planted his sandalled foot as hard as he could into the wooden beam that framed the door.
The whole cage shook, the beam flexing beneath the attack, but Elu’s kick came right after. Acharsis booted it again. Athites rushed by outside, but nobody paid them any heed. Again, Elu kicked the door, and this time they were rewarded with a satisfying crack.
“Good man,” said Acharsis, then grunted as he kicked right where Elu had created a hairline fissure in the wood.
“He’s almost here,” called out Sisu. “Hurry!”
Again and again they pounded at the door, but the flexibility of the wood prevented them from shattering it altogether. A faint crackling filled his ears, like Khartisian frost crunching beneath his boots, and then he turned and saw that the dream rhino was almost upon them.
