by Ginn Hale
John gazed at Samsango. The old man had always been good to him, always cared for him. Samsango had no way of knowing that John had a chance at escape. Neither he nor Hann’yu would have ever guessed at what John could do. And it wasn’t just that they couldn’t have known that he was the Rifter. They didn’t know what kind of man he was.
If their positions had been reversed, John knew Samsango would never have considered the sacrifice of dozens of other prisoners for his own sake. And John doubted his own courage would be great enough to swallow poison just to ensure that his friend did not suffer.
“You shouldn’t have done it,” John said. “I’m not the kind of man who deserves a sacrifice like this. I’ve done things—”
“I know.” Samsango’s voice was hardly a whisper now. “We have all done things, Jahn. I have made terrible mistakes. When I was young…you would not believe me. But our mistakes are not all that we are. To me, you have been a great kindness. I have been my happiest when I was with you. I tasted apples from Umbhra’ibaye. I sat among the most divine ushiri’im and spoke with them. You have brought me so much more than I…”
John waited for him to finish his sentence, but the end never came. Still smiling, Samsango slumped to the floor. John dropped the clay jar and pulled Samsango up into his arms.
“Don’t,” John whispered. “Please don’t.”
Samsango’s skin was warm. He felt alive, but John couldn’t find a pulse. Samsango’s body began to grow cool in his arms. John’s own breathing felt labored. He felt suddenly weak. Then a terrible feeling of absolute relaxation washed through him. His arms and legs crumpled. He slumped, half across Samsango’s body, half on the dirt floor.
Briefly, his vision faded but then slowly it cleared. He gazed down at himself, his naked body sprawling over Samsango’s frail form. Shattered pieces of the clay bottle spread out from beside them. He was filthy and bruised. Samsango looked almost as small as a child beneath him.
John desperately willed himself to rise, even if just to push himself off Samsango. But his flesh did not respond.
The city bell rang in the new hour. The guards would return soon. John didn’t know what they would do when they discovered his and Samsango’s bodies.
Get up, he thought desperately at his inert body. A slight tremor moved through his right hand but nothing more.
From above, John watched as the cell door swung open. Two guards came in. They were the same guards who had shown Samsango in earlier. The taller of the two carried a torch. The light cast a sick yellow hue over the dirty walls of the cell. John’s bruised, pale skin looked jaundiced. Samsango’s flesh looked like it had been sculpted from butter.
“Damn it!” The shorter guard crouched down beside John’s and Samsango’s bodies. He shoved John’s body roughly off Samsango and felt for the old priest’s pulse.
“Dead as a stone,” the guard announced in disgust.
The taller guard cursed under his breath and quickly closed the cell door. “What about the other one?”
The shorter guard stepped over Samsango and hunched down next to John’s body. He groped and prodded at John’s throat. Despite the roughness of the man’s touch, John felt nothing.
“He’s warm. I think I can feel his heart, but it’s weak.”
“The bastard.” The taller guard strode to John’s body and kicked him hard. An involuntary groan escaped from his lips.
“He’s not dead yet,” the taller guard said with an angry smile.
“We’ll be whipped through the street if the commander finds out we let the old priest in.” The shorter guard glanced back to where Samsango lay. “What do we do?”
The taller guard kicked John again. This time John remained silent. The guard scowled.
“We can’t just leave him here,” the shorter guard said. The taller guard studied Samsango’s body. “Any marks on him?”
“None that I could see.” The shorter guard scowled at the clay shards on the floor. “I think they drank poison.”
“Cowards,” the taller guard said. “You take the old man. Throw him out into the street. It’s cold enough for him to have frozen. Dump him near Candle Alley.”
“What about the yellow bastard?” The shorter guard eyed John’s body.
“I’ll get him cracked and trussed for the Holy Road. The boys will just think he’s another fainter.” He prodded John’s limp arm with the toe of his filthy boot.
“Right then.” The shorter guard opened his heavy coat and unlaced a short tool from his belt. As he handed it to the taller guard, John realized it was some kind of hammer. There were blessings carved into the wooden handle.
“Good luck with those big bones of his.”
“I’ll do well enough.” The taller guard shrugged. “Make sure no one sees you with the old priest.”
“He’ll be out in no time. Parfir forgive me.” The shorter guard easily hefted Samsango’s frail corpse over his shoulder. He opened the cell door a crack and then slipped out into the hall. The taller guard gave John’s body an appraising look. He turned the hammer experimentally in his hands.
“Just speak up if I’m a little too rough.” The guard smirked at John’s sprawled body. Then he slammed the hammer down across John’s shin. The skin went instantly red. With a second blow the flesh began to swell. The skin tore and bled. A third brutal blow cracked John’s tibia. A shudder of pain moved through him and a gasp escaped his body.
“Still got a little life, don’t you?” The taller guard grabbed John’s left leg and jerked it straight. It took him four hard blows with the heavy hammer to break John’s left shin. After that he brought the hammer down across John’s hands, crushing his fingers.
When he was done, the guard was breathing heavily and sweating. He leaned back against the cell wall and wiped the blood from the head of the hammer on a corner of his stained coat. The cell door opened and the shorter guard came in. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. He carried a leather bag.
“All taken care of.” He grinned at the taller guard. “How’re things here?”
“Not bad. He’s a lot less trouble than the bitch before him.” The taller guard wiped the sweat from his face.
The shorter guard dropped the bag to the cell floor and opened it up. The strong smell of veru oil rolled off of the contents.
“Has the commander gotten in yet?” asked the taller guard.
“Just.” The shorter guard lifted yellowed rolls of oil-soaked cloth from the bag. “Let’s get him trussed, shall we?”
The taller guard took two of the rolls and began wrapping them around John’s chest. He folded John’s broken hands into fists and bound them to his torso with the oil-soaked cloth. Red pools of blood seeped up from John’s hands. Droplets of oil glistened across the surface, giving his blood the iridescent sheen of gasoline. The smell of veru oil was overwhelming. Tremors passed through John’s body but he couldn’t offer any other resistance. He simply watched as the two men bound him from head to foot in the long strips of cloth. Then they left him lying on the cell floor.
Soon the door opened again and a group of teenage boys came in. They wore heavy leather aprons, which were streaked black from veru oil. Cursing his size, they hauled John’s body out of the prison.
Outside, the air was frigid and still. Pale clouds filled the morning sky. Drifts of dirty snow lined the walls of the prison courtyard. But the middle of the grounds had melted into an icy wallow from the constant passage of wagons and tahldi.
The boys dragged John across the open grounds to a cart loaded with other bound men and women. They hurled John onto the pile. The people directly beneath John struggled as his dead weight crushed onto them. Next to him a woman was crying while another moaned and screamed. The sharp smell of urine mixed with the scents of blood and oil. There were sobs and muffled pleas from all around him.
Neither the boys nor the surrounding city guards seemed to take any note of the desperate whimpers and cries. They hitched a pair
of tahldi to the cart. Two guards took the seat at the front of the cart. The boys piled into a second cart, talking quietly among themselves. Then they started out for the Holy Road.
As they traveled through the streets of Amura’taye, physical sensation crept back into John’s consciousness. At first he only felt slight throbs of pain as the movement of the cart jarred his broken limbs. Then it grew more intense. The smell and taste of veru oil began to burn in his throat. The muscles of his thighs convulsed and jerked as the belated rush of shock washed through them. As the pain built into agony, John sensed his composure eroding.
The tumah’itam was wearing off. He should have known it would. It took more than poison to kill the Rifter. He had read as much in the holy texts. Nothing but suffocation in the Gray Space could kill him. He didn’t even know if burning would destroy the Rifter. He was sure that it would awaken his fury first.
Already a hard, cold wind twisted and rushed over the cart. The clouds overhead darkened and churned. The cart jostled over the uneven cobbles of the Holy Road and a gasp of rending pain tore through John. Above him lightning writhed across the sky. The guards fought to control the tahldi as they jumped and reared nervously.
John heard the guards swearing. He couldn’t see them anymore. The pain and shock coursing through him seemed to restrict his extended awareness. It pulled him back into his bound and blindfolded body. He hurt unbelievably, unbearably. All around him the choking stench of veru oil closed in. The cart came to a stop. John felt hands roughly grab him and jerk him off the other bodies on the cart. He hit the cobbled road hard. The impact sent agony stabbing through his legs and hands. He howled in pain, and above him, thunder exploded through the air.
“Witches,” a boy hissed.
“The quicker they’re burned, the better we’ll all be,” one of the guards replied. John heard the heavy clanking of chains and metal gears. Then he felt the chains being wrapped around his body. A pulley creaked and groaned as John was hoisted up onto one of the iron torch poles. He remembered the first time he had seen someone burn. It had been here. He remembered the way the bodies had thrashed as the flames rushed over the oil-soaked bindings.
He was shaking, not just in pain, but with terror. All it would take was a single flicker of a spark and he would burn.
He’d take them all with him, he thought. He’d tear the entire city to pieces, exactly as the issusha’im had prophesied.
They puts him in the fire and he kills us. He kills us all.
And John knew he would.
He heard the moans and pleas as other men and women were shackled to the torch poles. Lightning splintered and cracked through the sky, burning white tracers into John’s eyes even through the swathes of cloth. Thunder sounded like an impact, sending a shudder though the ground. The guards swore and John heard one young boy whispering Parfir’s name.
Not far from him a woman began shrieking wildly. Moments later, John smelled burning veru oil and flesh. He felt a rush of heat and rage surge through his body. The sky jerked and convulsed with tongues of lightning. Thunder sounded like cannons. The guards cursed and prayed, but they did not stop their work.
Hysterical, desperate screams pierced the bursts of thunder. John could feel the fires growing around him. He could taste walls of black smoke rising through the air. Power and fear churned through him. The ground shuddered. Stones beneath him cracked. Farther down, he felt miles of earth and stone tremble. Molten seams pushed up at the opening fissures.
He kills us all.
The horror of it came to John suddenly. The issusha’im had seen him destroy everything. Not just this length of the Holy Road. Not just Amura’taye, but everything from Rathal’pesha to Umbhra’ibaye. Ravishan, Laurie, Hann’yu, they would all die.
He couldn’t let himself do that.
John fought to hold back the raw force of the Rifter. It tore through him like a molten brand—as if he were burning from the inside out. The more John hurt, the more desperate he was, the stronger the Rifter’s force grew. He wished that he were strong enough, brave enough to face his death as Samsango had.
Above him, the wind howled as if it were being murdered. John could feel steam rising off his own hot flesh. He clenched his jaws and tried to think of prayers. Flames and torrents of searing ash filled his thoughts.
Then he felt a whisper that chilled him to his bones. The Gray Space tore. A guard made a startled noise and then was suddenly silent. John heard a boy give up a wet, choking gasp. Then John felt himself being lowered to the broken ground. His chains fell away. His bindings were cut loose with a gentle urgency.
Veru oil burned John’s eyes as he opened them.
Ravishan’s face was ashen, his dark eyes wide and desperate. Other men’s blood flecked his cheeks and hands. He shoved the oil-soaked bindings aside and pulled John to him.
“Jahn.” Ravishan’s voice was low and rough. His hands bit into John’s bare back as he held him.
“It’s all right,” John whispered. And suddenly the burning rage, his inhuman fury and unrestrained power dissipated. John sagged against Ravishan. All around them the bloody bodies of boys and guards lay sprawled across the snow and stones. Black smoke poured off the smoldering bodies hanging from the torch poles. John hung against Ravishan as if he were grasping the only salvation he had ever known.
To Be Continued…
Titles, Ranks and Terms of Address
Usho—Leader of the Payshmura Church.
Kahlil—Holy Traveler and Companion to Parfir.
Ushman—High Ranking Clergy; often in a position of great responsibility.
Ushiri—Talented Priest studying to become Kahlil’im.
Ushvun—Priest.
Ushvran—Nun.
Kahlirash- Military sect devoted to Parfir’s destroyer incarnation.
Gaunsho—Lord of one of the seven noble houses.
Gaunan—Nobleman.
Gauniri—Noblechild.
Gaunvur—Noblewoman.
Gaun’im—Nobles (as a group).
Laman—Scholar, Doctor or anyone learned.
Lamiri—Student.
Rasho—Military leader, particularly calvary.
Rashan—Soldier.
Vunan—Common man.
Vuran—Common woman.
Shir—Animal; derogatory when used to address a human being.
Characters appearing in Arc Five
Ashan’ahma – An ushiri studying at Rathal’pesha.
Alidas–A rider for the Bousim family; partly crippled.
Amha’in’Bousim–Lady Bousim, 3rd wife, exiled to the north.
Bati’kohl–A servant of Lady Bousim; brother of Ohbi.
Bill–Called Behr in Basawar.
Dayyid–Second ushman at Rathal’pesha.
Fikiri Bousim–An ushiri candidate: son of Lady Bousim.
Hann’yu–An ushman exiled to the north: specializes in healing
Inholima–A spy in Lady Bousim’s household.
Issusha’im–The Payshmura oracles.
Ji Shir’korud–Dog demon; one of the Fai’daum.
John–Jahn
Laurie–Called Loshai in Basawar.
Mosh’sira’in’Bousim– Gaunsho Bousim.
Mou’pin–A rider under Pivan.
Nuritam–The ushman at Rathal’pesha.
Ohbi–A loyal servant to Lady Bousim.
Parfir–The earth god.
Pivan–The second in command of the Bousim rashan’im.
Rifter–The destroyer incarnation of Parfir.
Ravishan–The most promising of the ushiri at Rathal’pesha.
Rousma–Ravishan’s sister.
Sabir–The leader of Fai’daum.
Saimura–Ji’s son.
Samsango–An elderly priest at Rathal’pesha.
Serahn–Powerful Ushman in the Black Tower of Nurjima.
Tashtu–Pivan’s commander.
Wah’roa–Leader of the kahlirash’im at Vundomu.
Common
Words and Terms
and ---------------iff
animal / it --------shir
asshole -----------wahbai
bark (tree) --------istana
bee (honey) ------behr
best ---------------sho
black -------------yasi
blonde hide ------jahn
blood -------------usha
blue -------------- holima
bone -------------sumah
bones (holy) ------issusha
book --------------lam
brothers ----------ashan
but / however ----hel
chasm ------------kubo
city ---------------tamur
cold --------------polima
dead --------------maht
deer (mount) ---- tahldi
delicious ---------mosh
dog (tame) -------kohl
dog (wild)/wolf -- sabir
exhausted --------renma
fast (speed) -------sam
fire --------------- daru
food ------- ------nabi (grain)
friend ------------pashim
from / of ---------in
fuck --------------faud
goat --------------fik
good / pretty ----domu
grain plant -------taye
green -------------ibaye
harm -------------ratim
hawk -------------alidas
hill ---------------rousma
holy --------------ushmana
hot ---------------niru
how / because ---ahab
idiot --------------bai
joy ----------------amha
key ----------------hala
key, death-lock ---maht’tu hala
knife --------------halaun
lazy ---------------pom
little / diminutive ---iri
lock ------------------tu
lost ------------------gasm’ah
love -----------------mohim
man/ male --------- vun
meadow ------------pivan
meat ----------------nabi’usha
medicinal tree ------yasistana
monastery ----------ushmura
money --------------jiusha
