by Pedro Urvi
A stench hit his nostrils with such force he thought he had been attacked by a Custodian. He shook his head and covered his nose with his hand. The smell was nauseating, putrid. In the middle of the deck he saw a huge hatchway, partly covered with a canvas. Then he understood where he was, and the reason for the stench. The hull of the ship must be filled with corpses. It was the Ship of the Dead.
He heard footsteps on the gangway and hid. He saw twenty or so slaves carrying bodies which had just been fished out of the water and throwing them through the hatchway onto the pile of the dead. He saw them throw Kyra’s corpse on top of another of the prisoners with her.
He muffled a moan.
He was about to come out when he saw an Oppressor arrive on the gangway and chivvy the slaves to get on board quickly. He stopped and hid again. I can’t stay here. I can’t. I have to get to her. Desperate, risking being seen, he ran along the deck. He commended himself to Mother Sea, then with a powerful leap threw himself head-first through the hatchway onto the pile of corpses before the Oppressors boarded the ship.
His head hit something hard. Pain exploded in his head as if he had hit it against a rock wall at full tilt.
He lost consciousness.
The stench woke him. Dizzy, he tried to open his eyes, but the intense headache that struck him made him close them at one. He touched the painful spot and found a scab.
I’ve been bleeding. What happened? Where am I? He managed to open his eyes and saw the light of day coming through a hatchway, covered with sailcloth. He turned his neck and met a lifeless face. He was startled into trying to stand, but tripped, fell backwards and rolled over the bodies.
And then he remembered. Kyra!
He began to climb the pile of corpses, clutching his stomach while his mind sought to deny the horror which surrounded him. Kyra! She was all that mattered, and he did not care about being in the midst of that nightmarish place. He searched among the bodies, turning over the faces to identify them. The stench was so strong he had to wrap a piece of cloth from one of the corpses over his nose.
The waves hit the hull of the ship and he lost his balance. We’re sailing!
“Come on, you useless slaves!” he heard an Oppressor shouting on the deck, and then the lash of his whip. “More spirit! Row with more spirit, or it’ll be your skins!” – and he lashed the slaves again.
Ikai continued searching anxiously, until at last he found her.
She was not moving. She had no pulse. She seemed not to be breathing.
He dragged her away from the hatchway to the shadows of the hold and tried to bring her back to life.
Come on, come on, Kyra!
He breathed air into her lungs.
Come on, little sister, come back to me!
He went on trying to bring her back, aware only of anguish and despair.
Kyra, don’t leave me!
But Kyra would not come back.
Amid insufferable pain, so that he wanted to takeout his own heart with his hands, he put his sister’s head on his chest and rocked her.
“Why you? Why?” he cried desolately, stroking his dead sister’s hair and face.
“Why?” he kept repeating over and over again between sobs. “Why?” Sanity was beginning to leave him in the midst of a suffering which his mind could not cope with.
Night came, but he could not stop weeping. His pain was as fathomless as Mother Sea. He cried until he had no more tears left. His strength failed him, and the darkness took him with his dead sister in his arms.
31
He was woken by the damp, annoying drip of water on his face. He half-opened his eyes and found it was pouring with rain. He was lying on the floor, but he did not move; he was so thirsty he opened his mouth and let the water from the heavens fill it with its freshness. He swallowed, and his sore throat was grateful.
Where am I? he wondered, disoriented, and then he remembered the hold of the ship. Suddenly Kyra’s dead face leapt to his mind. He felt the abysmal pain, and the anguish which followed would not even let him breathe. When the pain ebbed, albeit very little, he tried to rise. He was surrounded by a dark wall three feet high. He swept it with a glance until he reached a huge totem which rose behind him. Its face, with its great golden eyes, was disfigured by an expression of horror.
What’s going on here? He stopped to look around before getting to his feet. Something did not fit. The floor he was lying on was black marble with white veins, and the structure was round, with an open entrance. He was surrounded by bodies: dead slaves. This is some kind of temple, he guessed, looking at the huge, sinister totem which looked decidedly ominous.
Two slaves, soaked by the torrential rain, came into the structure. He played dead and pretended his body was as rigid as a board while they laid a body down beside him.
“Come on, you scum! Faster!” came the Oppressor’s voice, followed by the crack of a whip.
He risked a glance toward the opening through the curtain of water and understood what was happening: they were unloading the corpses from the ship on to a beach. Thinking he was dead, they had taken him from the ship’s hold and left him in that strange temple with the others.
“Hurry up, we haven’t got all day!” came the voice of another Oppressor.
Ikai glanced to both sides, but could not see Kyra. Rage began to grow inside him again, a murderous rage. He wanted to kill all those soulless creatures, wanted to with all his will. He wanted to get up and fight, but his arms would not respond. He realized he was very weak: too weak. They unloaded several more corpses and he forced his rage down, because if he confronted the Enforcers of the Gods in his present state all he would get was his throat cut.
He opened his mouth again and let the rain fill him and refresh his body, while the slaves finished their funereal work.
“All on board!” he heard an Eye-of-the-God say in his screeching voice.
He waited with an infinite patience he did not know he had, holding back the rage and frustration which threatened to erupt like a volcano. With what little strength he still had, he stood up and hid, crouching, behind the wall. The Ship of the Dead weighed anchor and slowly left the wide inlet, while the storm began to lessen.
On the deserted beach he saw two more temples, with their huge totems of death. He looked around. It was a desolate scene. He counted around thirty corpses on the temple floor. He glanced toward the second temple and saw that it too was full of bodies. They had unloaded the ship and left the bodies in the three temples. By the look of it, it appeared they had distributed them according to how long they had been dead.
He gathered what little courage he had left and searched for his sister’s body. He had to give his final goodbye according to the Senoca tradition. It did not take him long to find her at the foot of the horrible totem. He dropped to his knees beside her, and could not hold back his tears at the sight of Kyra’s wan face.
“What am I going to tell Mother? I promised to find you and bring you back. How am I going to tell her? I can’t. She’ll be inconsolable. Solma will die from pain and sorrow.”
He picked her up in his arms and brought her outside the temple. He laid her down gently on the sand, with the sea in the background and the wild waves sweeping the sand of the beach.
“I’ll give you a last farewell, with Mother Sea beside you,” he said, with the sea breeze ruffling his hair.
It is the first time that a talking corpse has been delivered to us, he heard an amiable voice say inside his head. He could make no sense of this, and stayed with his eyes fixed on the sky with its covering of gray clouds.
There’s always a first time for everything, I guess.
He stood up and turned towards the vegetation behind the beach, and his heart sank. Above a rise, at the foot of the beach as if reigning over it, he saw a God, followed by several dozen Enforcers. He could not identify this God or the Enforcers; he had not seen them before. They were different, in a sinister way. The Enforcers were similar in size
to an Oppressor, perhaps a little gaunter. Their ochre skin was nearly black and their prominent veins white instead of black. They wore no armor, only a tunic, black as night, with a white rune on the chest. Silver helmets covered their heads, with bars over eyes and mouth. Their look was ominous.
A live specimen is a rarity in this place. I shall enjoy it immensely, the God said, and Ikai shivered. The God was dressed in black from head to toe, with the exception of a silver sash where he carried two curved daggers. This God was not like the ones in the Eternal City, of that he had no doubt. On his golden forehead, on his clean-shaven head and below his eyes, were strange runes tattooed in black. A gleam in the eyes of that golden creature made Ikai narrow his eyes and notice those of the Gods. They were black, with golden irises and white pupils.
Ikai shivered and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He reached for his throwing dagger at his back. It seems the time has come to die at last. But I’ll die fighting. Without fear, beside my sister.
But the sinister God and his servants turned suddenly to the left, ignoring him. Perplexed, he followed their gaze. To his amazement, he saw a small black building at the end of the beach and three Gods walking towards them over the sand. The strange black building was familiar, and he realized that it was really one of the arcane doors of the Gods, like the one Albana had used to escape with Liriana and Maruk.
My eyes must be deceiving me, as they recognize no less than the heir to one of the prominent Five Houses. And that is not possible, for my cousins from Alantres, the wonderful Eternal City, would never set foot in our humble dwelling. Is that not so, my dear Lord Adamis?
Adamis came to stand beside the God. Your eyes do not deceive you, Lord Woz.
And who comes with the heir Prince of the House of Eret on this surprising visit?
Rotec comes with me, my Champion. And Notaplo, my First Erudite.
Ikai did not know what to do. He stood there with the dagger in his hand, staring from one God to the other as they talked inside his head.
Perhaps it would be convenient to talk in private... Adamis suggested, looking at Ikai and the servants of Lord Woz.
Nonsense. This is Hiltok, the island of the House of Hila, the banished House. There are no secrets here. And what is more, I shall allow this insignificant surviving slave to witness this encounter and listen to what you have come to propose, because you must want something...
As you wish. This is your land, and the laws of your House rule. They must be respected.
Then tell me, cousin, what powerful reason has made these most radiant and important Lords visit us in our exile? I cannot recall the last time a Lord visited us. I know you loathe us and avoid us as if we were carriers of some contagious disease.
Let me remind you, cousin, that it was not we who broke the laws of Mother Nature and used forbidden Power. The exile of the House of Hila was unanimously agreed by the Council of Five. The punishment, isolation, allowed you to keep your heads...
True. Irreconcilable ideological differences, I am afraid. What are you looking for here, Adamis?
I want the living slaves on this beach.
The slaves on this beach belong to me. It was part of the treaty of exile decided by the Houses.
The dead slaves belong to you, that is stipulated. I do not wish to know what for, as I am not interested in the forbidden arts of the House of Hila. But the living do not belong to you.
Hmmm. And what interest in this slave does the powerful and influential Adamis have, to make him set foot on the sands of Hiltok?
Ikai stared at Adamis, not understanding what relationship there might be between the two of them. Then he recalled seeing this God before, and the giant with him. He had seen them with Kyra.
If you will allow me... Adamis said, pointing at Ikai’s feet.
Of course, go ahead, Lord Woz said, sounding intrigued. He folded his arms and smiled, amused.
Adamis nodded at Notaplo, who went to Ikai. He knelt at his feet and studied Kyra’s face.
“What are you doing?” Ikai asked, brandishing his dagger menacingly when he saw the old God holding Kyra’s head.
Do not fear, young man. I wish to help her.
“You’re too late. She’s dead. You can’t help her.”
Notaplo took a disc out of his tunic. It was of crystal, and inside it was a tiny nugget of gold which shone intensely. He placed the disc on Kyra’s forehead, and there was a metallic snap. The disc attached itself to her forehead.
Ikai’s body tensed.
The old Erudite smiled at him kindly. Do not be afraid...
Ikai had no idea what he wanted to do, but he was feeling more uneasy with every passing moment.
Suddenly the disc divided in two, and the upper part started spinning, flashing as it did so. On Kyra’s face appeared black veins, which extended first down her neck and then all along her body.
“Let her be!” Ikai cried. He could not hold back while they desecrated his sister’s body. He tried to shove the God-Erudite, but was immediately surrounded by a white mist which gradually pushed him back towards the sea.
The voice of Adamis reached him as he controlled the arcane mist. You must let Notaplo finish.
The disc gave another flash and began to inject the gold from its centre into the black veins which now ran all over Kyra’s body, from her forehead down to her arms and legs.
Ikai was pushing back with his failing strength, but it was impossible to overcome the resistance of the mist and reach his sister.
“Leave her alone!” he shouted desperately.
The disc stopped spinning and the two halves once again became one. The nugget had turned black; the gold had been consumed. There came another metallic snap, and Notaplo removed the disc.
Powerless, Ikai watched his sister’s body. The gold in her veins slowly vanished, as if it had reached her heart and been assimilated. Suddenly, before his astonished eyes, Kyra convulsed violently. A new and terrible spasm shook her, as if she had been hit by a lightning bolt. He watched in amazement. A third discharge shook her whole body.
She opened her eyes.
And sat up.
Ikai fell on his knees and burst out weeping, overwhelmed by emotion.
“Notaplo, where... am I? What... happened?” Kyra muttered as she recognized the old God-Erudite beside her.
Notaplo smiled broadly. With moist eyes he answered: What happened is that we nearly lost you, little one, but everything is all right now.
Kyra looked around, still stunned, and recognized Adamis and Rotec behind Notaplo. When she saw Adamis looking at her steadily, Kyra felt a strange fluttering in her stomach, and a sudden feeling of wellbeing warmed her chest. The sounds of waves breaking on the beach and muffled sobs reached her ears. She turned in surprise.
And saw Ikai. Her eyes opened wide.
“Ikai!” she cried, and her heart almost burst out of her. She jumped up to run to him, but her legs failed her and she fell. She rose immediately, took a few steps and fell on the sand again.
He was shaking his head in disbelief. “Kyra, you’re alive!” he shouted.
“Ikai, my brother!” she shouted joyfully to the sky, with tears in her eyes. She crawled to him.
“You’re alive! Alive!” he said, and spread his arms.
Kyra rushed into them, and on their knees the two hugged each other in an embrace so intense and filled with such emotion that their bodies ached. Ikai’s tears slid over Kyra’s forehead, while hers soaked his shoulder.
“I told them, I told them all you’d come for me.”
“Always, little sis, always. I’d never leave you.”
They remained in one another’s arms, ignoring everything around them in that moment of limitless fraternal happiness.
Lord Woz, who was watching the scene, applauded dramatically.
And there was me thinking today would be just another ordinary day, he said, shaking his head with a smile, and I have just witnessed the House of Eret
returning life to the dead. Something which, if my memory does not fail me, is totally forbidden. One of the main reasons why the House of Hila, my own sublime House, was expelled from Alantres and banished to this island.
Not exactly, Adamis said with a faint smile. The young slave was not dead. No law has been broken, much less one so important. Not by my House.
If she was on the funerary ship, she was dead.
Almost, but not fully, Notaplo said. He waved a finger. One drop of essence of life remained in her. One drop was saved. What I have done is transfer something extra of vital essence to her body, and that is why she has revived.
A pity that is so, Lord Woz said with a shrug. Alive she certainly is, therefore you can have her. It is the law.
Thank you, Lord Woz, Adamis said. He bowed his head.
Kyra looked at her brother, whom she had missed so much and who more than once she had thought she would never see again. She could barely believe it was him, that he was there, with her. But he was. She stared at his odd eyes, one of each color, his brown hair in a tangle, and his kind, weather-worn face. Suddenly what had happened began to come back to her: the Ceremony of Vivification… the reactive… the Five God-Kings… her life being transferred to them… to the last drop… till she had died… the twelve Selected… dying…
“Yosane! Idana!” she shouted. Leaving her brother’s arms she turned and ran inside the temple in search of them.
Ikai got to his feet and ran after her.
“Where are they? Where?” she said as she searched desperately. “They have to be here… they have to… they were with me…” she mumbled as if she had lost her mind, without noticing she was being watched.
