by Phil Tucker
“Kish!” Sisu rushed to the side of the prison and gripped the bars. “Over here!”
She’d emerged onto the path between the tents perhaps thirty yards down, hammer in hand, and turned at the sound of Sisu’s cry with a grin. “Sisu!” She raced over, ignoring the cries of surprise from a group of Athite women, and reached the door. “Get back!”
She swung her hammer with both hands, and the wooden beam exploded into a shower of splinters. Acharsis wasted no time in yanking the rope lock free and throwing the door open. Sisu pushed past and pulled Kish into an embrace, then moved on so that the others could follow.
“Come on!” said Kish. “We’ve got to flee!”
“No,” said Acharsis, reaching out to grab her by the arm. “Not out into the steppe. We need mounts. We need water and food, or we’ll not last a day. Follow me!”
He led them along the path as best he could, the others behind him. Some instinct, some sixth sense told him that the dream rhino’s aura was nearly upon them. He could feel its approach, the hairs on the back of his neck and arms prickling. Was it trying to blanket the entire camp?
They broke out into an open square fronted on all sides by fencing and large tents. The smell of horse dung was pungent here, and voices were raised in shouts, a group of warriors shoving at each other in fear and anger. Beyond them stood the Athite chieftain, Razan, his great scimitar in hand, flanked by his clanmates, wrestling with the reins of an ebon stallion that was rearing and resisting his attempts to control it.
The warriors ceased their shouting and stared at Acharsis. The stallion broke free and charged away between the tents, Razan no longer caring as he turned to stare as well. No, realized Acharsis as a feverish haze swept over him; they were staring past him. Past him, and up.
Acharsis turned and saw the dream rhino’s great head slide into view over the closest tent, horn glowing with effulgent purple light, and then the tent collapsed under its bloody foot and the aura fell upon them.
The tents around them swayed as if suddenly caught in a fierce storm, and the horses shrilled and whinnied in terror. Cries of alarm from the warriors melted into each other, and purple rivers of light sluiced overhead to come crashing down like lightning strikes across the square.
Annara screamed, clutched at her face as if intending to claw out her eyes, and collapsed. Acharsis caught her just in time, slipped her over his shoulder, and saw that the others were glowing as if filled with candlelight. Sisu shone most brilliant of all, and even Elu was lit with his own inner light.
God’s blood, thought Acharsis. It’s keeping us sane.
Not so the Athite warriors. They screamed as Annara had and began to collapse, to stagger around, waving their blades at unseen enemies before falling. Gritting his teeth, Acharsis strode across the square, fighting for focus as visions of the dead began to assail him. He tripped over a protruding bone, then startled as an inhuman scream sounded from behind him and sawed higher and higher until it was suddenly cut off.
“This way!” cried Sisu, seemingly unaffected. He strode forward, pulling Acharsis by the sleeve. The dream rhino was continuing forward, crushing more tents as it proceeded into the center of the camp. Acharsis, sweating profusely, followed.
Two Athites somehow had the wherewithal to stagger toward Sisu, interposing themselves between him and the chieftain. Sisu raised his hand and cast two balls of churning green flame at them, smiting them in the chests and causing them to fall. He laughed, delighted, and hurried past the reeling Athite chieftain to where the horses were panicking within the corral.
“In the name of my dread mistress, queen of this realm, empress of eternity - know peace!” Sisu’s voice was pitched to carry, and to Acharsis’ amazement the horses stilled. “Oh.” Sisu looked down at his hands. “That worked. Here; you as well.” He extended his hands to where Acharsis, Elu and Kish stood, and it was like a curtain parting, or an urn of cool water being suddenly poured over his head on a blazing hot day.
The feverish intensity of the air receded, and Acharsis gasped as strength flooded back into his limbs. The sight of the dead clawing their way up out of the ground faded, and once again they stood in the Athite camp.
Acharsis and Kish hurried to fetch the horses. Many of them were still saddled from their day’s ride. Acharsis gathered three of them, nodding to Kish as she and Sisu pulled another three closer, and then turned to see Elu walking slowly toward the chieftain.
The Athite held his scimitar with both hands, head whipping from side to side as if possessed. He alternately grimaced and smiled, a disturbing sight, and shifted his weight, turning back and forth as if seeking to keep a dozen enemies in view all at once.
“Elu!” Acharsis took a step toward his son. “Stop! Come back!”
“This is for my mother,” said Elu, pausing only to draw a sword from one of the charred corpses.
“Elu!” Acharsis thought of handing his reins to Kish, of running after his son, but he knew it was too late. He watched as his son drew the sword back and then swiped it across the chieftain’s neck, the force of the blow knocking the man back even as it tore open his throat.
Blood geysered forth. The Athite let out a choking cry and dropped his sword. He placed both hands across his throat, staggered, then fell.
“Elu,” whispered Acharsis. The youth never looked away as the chieftain kicked and then went still. “Elu!”
Elu hesitated, bent down to pull something from the corpse, then jogged over. His expression was hard, his mouth a taut line, his eyes bleak and distant. He met Acharsis’ gaze defiantly, daring him to say something, but Acharsis held his tongue. Elu strode past him, took a set of reins from Kish, and then climbed up onto the saddle.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Acharsis, the sounds of screams and terror rising from all around the camp. He heaved Annara over the saddle and then pulled himself up after her. “After me. Let’s ride!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kish led them in a swooping circle around the rear of the great tent city. Chaos had descended upon the Athites; everywhere horses reared, people screamed and clutched at their heads, sank to their knees or fell unconscious to the ground. Overhead the purple aura of the dream rhino coruscated, casting a dome of energy over the camp. Maddened teams of riders charged past, lost in their own visions, swinging their swords at eidolons until they fell from their saddles, overcome.
“Jarek said he’d meet us at the rear of the camp!” Kish was bent low over her horse’s neck, galloping through the madness. Athites were boiling out of their camp like ants from a kicked-over nest.
“And the rhino?” Acharsis held on grimly to his horse’s reins with one hand, using the other to steady Annara before him. He hated the way she was bouncing across the front of the saddle, but there was nothing he could do.
“He’s abandoning it! Should have done so already!”
They swung around the perimeter of the camp until the rhino’s entry point came into view, the grass dead, the tents collapsed. Jarek was running with a ragged gait into the open, his Sky Hammer in one hand. At the sight of them he stopped, raised his arm, and then collapsed face first into the dirt.
“Jarek!” Kish urged her horse forward and was off it before it had even stopped. Acharsis was right behind, and was about to dismount when he saw her lift Jarek by herself, the muscles of her arms and back writhing as she got her shoulder under his bulk and then hefted him up onto her horse.
“Do you… need… never mind.” Acharsis watched in amazement as Kish leaped up onto the saddle behind Jarek. “Scythia’d be proud, girl.” He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. “Let’s get out of here!”
They rode hard for an hour, nobody speaking, all of them casting worried glances behind them. The camp was soon lost from view. Nobody came after them. Still, Acharsis was worried about running into outriders or patrols; he kept a wary eye on the horizon at all times, and when it was finally so dark that he could barely see the others beside him,
he called for a stop.
Annara was murmuring, caught in delirium, turning her head from one side to the other. Carefully, Acharsis pulled her from the horse. Elu was by his side a moment later, and together they laid her on the grass. Sisu stepped up, his expression hard to make out in the dark.
“She’ll be all right soon,” he said, kneeling beside her. “She just needs rest. Time will draw her out of Nekuul’s influence.”
Kish heaved Jarek down beside Annara and then fell, collapsing onto her rear. “And Jarek?”
Sisu pressed his hand to Jarek’s brow. “The same. What he did… I’ve never heard of the like. He is blessed by my goddess. It’s the only explanation.”
“Good,” said Kish, and fell onto her back, one wrist draped over her eyes. “I could sleep for a week.”
“Not yet,” said Acharsis, struggling to his feet. “We’ll rest for an hour and then we have to move again.”
“You think they’ll follow us?” Elu’s voice was quiet. Not alarmed, not frightened.
Acharsis nodded, then realized nobody could see him in the dark. “Soon as the moon rises, we’ll be visible for miles around. Tonight’s likely to be our only reprieve. Come morning, a new chieftain will claim control of the Athites. I can’t say for sure if they’ll make us a priority, but they will if someone saw us collecting Jarek. We need to be long gone by then - in some other tribe’s territory, if possible.”
“You know which way to go?” asked Elu.
“I will come sunrise. Soon as we can make out the Maganian mountains we’ll head for them. We’ll make far better speed now that we’re free of the wagons, and it’ll be speed that will keep us safe. With a little luck we should reach the Maganian gulf in three days, maybe four.”
“And then?” Sisu rose, shoulders stiff, arms crossed. “Or are we going to continue to improvise as we go?”
“Then we’ll sell the horses in exchange for passage down to Magan,” said Acharsis. “Once we reach the delta, we’ll sail up it to the first major city we find, and then, yes. We’ll improvise.”
“Sleep,” said Kish. “He said we could sleep for an hour. Why are we talking?”
Acharsis could imagine Sisu’s scowl perfectly. “Because—”
“Sleep,” said Kish, rolling over to place an arm across Jarek’s chest. “Now.”
Sisu clicked in disgust and walked over to where the horses were gathered.
“You’re not telling us everything,” said Elu quietly.
“No,” said Acharsis. “There are certain things we can’t control. No sense in getting everybody worried about them. Either things will work out, or… not.”
“Such as?”
Acharsis hesitated. Elu watched him steadily. The boy had changed. Even thinking of him as a boy no longer felt right. “Water, for one. These horses can’t ride forever without it. They’re exhausted enough as it is. If we don’t find water for them soon, it’ll take us much longer than three or four days to reach the gulf.”
“Anything else?”
Acharsis wrapped his arms around his knees and linked his hands. “Plenty, unfortunately. Even if we escape the Athites, the odds are high that we’ll run afoul of other tribes. We haven’t done an inventory of what’s in our horses’ packs - how much food we’re carrying. None of us are qualified to cleanse us of our spiritual pollution, and being in the dream rhino’s aura has surely tainted us. Want me to go on?”
“No,” said Elu. “That’s enough, I guess.”
Acharsis hesitated, not sure how to broach the subject, then simply asked, “What did you collect from the chieftain’s corpse?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to bring this up. You think I was wrong to kill him.”
“No, not wrong. Just cold.”
“Cold. I suppose it was.” Elu looked down at his hands. “But I’m glad I did.”
“You feel anything else?”
“You’re not my father,” said Elu. “Don’t pretend you are.”
“True enough,” said Acharsis. “But can you see Kenu talking to you about murder?”
Elu stiffened. “It wasn’t murder.”
“All right. What would you call it?”
“Revenge,” said Elu.
“Revenge. And do you feel better now?”
Elu looked down at his hands once more. “I didn’t do it to feel better. I did it because it was right. And I took this so I will always remember the moment.” He threw something into Acharsis’ lap.
Acharsis held it up. It was cold, metallic, finely crafted. A spiral. The golden snake that the chieftain had worn about his bicep. It was sticky with dried blood. “I’ll say one thing, not as your father, but as someone who wants to be your friend. Don’t take pride in doing things just because they were hard to do. What seems necessary but distasteful in the moment may haunt you for years to come. Listen to your better instincts. The more you do, the louder they’ll speak to you, and the less regrets you’ll have by the time you’re my age.”
Elu snorted. “As you say.”
“As I say. Anyway. Rest. I’ll keep watch,” said Acharsis.
“I’m not tired.”
“You’re bone-tired. You just don’t know it. Do this: lie down and close your eyes. If you’re not asleep in under a minute, you can take the watch. Agreed?”
He could sense Elu trying to find a reason to argue with him. Something that wouldn’t sound petty or foolish. In the end, the boy simply turned away and lay down. A few moments later, his breathing slowed, deepened, and he was asleep.
Kish was starting to snore lightly. Acharsis rose and pressed a hand to Jarek’s brow. Warm, but not fevered. He then moved over to Annara, who was the same. After making sure they were comfortable, he forced himself to stand and move to the group’s edge, gazing back in the direction of the Athite camp. He’d fall asleep if he remained sitting. Arms crossed, he watched as the moon slowly emerged above the horizon.
The odds of their reaching the Maganian gulf were slim. But then again, he’d never expected to escape the Athites. Perhaps they’d used up all their bad luck with Guthos. Perhaps they were in the clear.
Acharsis reached under his shirt for the silver amulet Ishi had gifted him back in Rekkidu. It was whole. He scanned the night before him, half-expecting to make out a familiar dancing shape, manacles clanking, eyes rolling with idiot glee. But his demon didn’t present herself.
Three or four days, thought Acharsis. A little luck. That’s all we need. Please, Ekillos. Send a little luck our way.
***
“Now this,” said Jarek as he leaned over the railing, “is the way to travel.”
Brown water flowed placidly past them as they sailed up the delta, the lateen sail overhead billowing out before the western wind. The shallow hull was better suited to this broad river, and where before they’d pitched and been knocked about by the storm they’d run into out in the gulf, now they eased their way up toward Magan in a gentle glide.
Other river craft crowded the water, most of a similar size, a few larger, all of them interspersed by small fishing skiffs that darted through the river traffic with the brazen confidence of small birds dancing with the tide. Every mile or so they passed a different village, the houses painted white and raised curiously on stilts, naked children laughing and diving off balconies into the warm waters below.
The shores here were a vibrant green, a lush outpouring of palm trees, bushes and fronds of all kinds, between which Acharsis spotted glimpses of fields extending away from the river. Everywhere, people were laboring, backs hunched to the sky, working irrigation canals or filing along levee walls with huge baskets atop their shoulders.
“Amazing,” said Annara, leaving her bench on the ship’s deck to come stand beside them. “Look at that. It has to be taller than even the ziggurat at Uros.”
The edifice that arose before them was magnificent. Painted a glowing white trimmed with vivid crimsons and blues, the tower's broad base tapered to a narrow cupola at the top
in which a great flame was burning, surrounded on three sides by burnished discs of copper shaped like lion heads.
“A temple?” asked Jarek, rubbing at his jaw.
“Perhaps,” said Acharsis. “But I thought the Maganians worshipped lamassu… not living fire.”
“That, my friends, is the lighthouse of Senusetep,” said Tareos, the ship’s captain. Comfortably rotund, with bandy legs and rounded shoulders, he appeared deceptively soft. But Acharsis had seen him hauling on ropes with the strength of three men during the storm in the gulf, and knew that his voice could be pitched to carry even over raging winds. “It marks our final approach to Magan itself. A pity. I’ve grown fond of your company.”
Annara smiled, turning so that her hip was against the railing. “Our company or our gold, captain? Surely you’re not confusing the two.”
“You wound me, fair lady,” said the captain with a smile. “What little gold I charged you for this voyage was stolen from me these past three nights by Acharsis here. A devil with dice, cards, or even guessing the speed of falling raindrops. Woe that I ever agreed to wager against him! He’s beggared my ship. I shall not be able to pay my daughter’s dowry as I had hoped…”
“You’re not getting any of your gold back,” said Acharsis. “But if you need a hug…?”
“It is a cruel world,” said Tareos with a deep sigh. “Still, perhaps I have learned probity and self-control from this experience. And I have been able to delight my eyes by gazing upon your fair countenance each evening, Annara. That is more than enough recompense for me.”
“You’re still not getting any of your gold back,” said Annara with a smile. “But thank you for the kind words.”
“Cruel beauty! Still. If the wind holds - and I don’t see why it shouldn’t - we shall be reaching the outskirts of Magan within the hour. There I shall dock, and we shall part ways. I shall be passingly busy, and may not have time for proper farewells.”
“Thank you, Tareos,” said Acharsis, grasping the captain’s forearm. “For your hospitality, and for the speed of your ship. A question, though, before we part. We’ve never visited Magan before. Can you give us directions to a friendly tavern where we may find a reliable guide?”
