Serpent's Blood

by Brian Stableford

  For a few moments, it seemed that they were not inclined to make any such discrimination. The warrior host swarmed about the disabled wagon, reaching up with their massive jaws to snap at its defenders, utterly un intimidated by the pike-heads that were thrust at them.

  Some reared up on their hind legs, so that their mighty heads towered above the little group of defenders, and as Checuti stared up into the narrow slits of darkness which showed through their almost-closed eyelids he was convinced that he was looking into the face of death.

  He thrust the half-pike out defiantly, aiming for those eye-slits, but the head was caught by two massive jaws, which abruptly snatched it out of his hands and hurled it contemptuously aside. He could not help but raise his arms reflexively, but the thought uppermost in his mind was that it was best to die suddenly than to suffer long-drawn-out agonies, and that this was not the worst of ways to die.

  A lunging jaw knocked him sprawling on to his back, and he decided to exercise what little freedom of choice he had left and lie still, waiting to be crushed or cut in two.

  He lay with his eyes shut for several seconds. . . and then several more .

  . . and then a minute.

  He felt his arm gripped, but not by a drago mite warrior's jaws. He was helped to his feet again and when he found the strength of mind to open his eyes he found that he was looking at Carus Fraximus. No drago mite warriors were looming over the wagon now; they were swarming up the slopes to either side, letting the wagon and its defenders alone.

  He should have felt relief, and gratitude, but in fact he felt a perfect fool. He felt that his instincts had let him down, and made a coward of him in a horribly clownish way. Hope and rationality had, after all, triumphed over confusion and despair.

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  The warriors were disappearing now, as if by magic. They had spread out to use every one of the' holes let into the mound. They were pouring into the interior of the hill in their tens and their hundreds.

  "Nest-war," said the dark lander beside him, in a tone that was almost laconic. Checuti knew well enough that all dark landers were past masters of the underrated art of being wise after the event, but the savage's apparent composure astonished him nevertheless. He was pervesely glad to see, though, that the other adult dark lander and the boy were still petrified by fear, unable as yet to start talking about the great victory they had just won.

  Ereleth is inside that mound, he thought, in a peculiarly cold fashion. So is Andris Myrasol, and that poor cousin of his. They're as good as dead every last one of them, including the princess. So am I. All I've won is a slow death instead of a quick one.

  "What have I to be glad about?

  "Look!" Fraxinus said, dropping the half-pike with which he had tried to ward off the warrior drago mites

  Almost all the warriors had disappeared into the mound by now, but there were others coming in their wake which had now reached the lip of the gully.

  These were not warriors, but workers - and a few which were neither workers nor warriors. There were others with them, who were not even drago mites

  "See," said the dark lander who had spoken before, in the same irritatingly airy way.

  "Our kinsmen said as much. Humans do ride drago mites and Serpents too." , Checuti saw that he was absolutely right. There was a human riding one of the worker drago mites and that was not the only drago mite which had a rider. In normal circumstances he would have paid more attention to the rider which was not a human being, but there was something about the lone human which caught and held his stare. He could see that she was neither coloured nor dressed like the mound-women he had seen the previous night, but he had to shield his eyes and squint as he attempted to make out the cast of her features.

  He turned to Fraxinus wonderingly, and said,

  "I think I know that woman. I know it seems absurd, but I'm sure I've seen her somewhere before."

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  "So have I," Fraxinus said. His voice was dry but he had the grace to sound astonished.

  "But I never thought to see her again, or in such strange company. It's Hyry Keshvara."

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  A,

  14 iv/ hat happens when a child is due to be born? Andris was W thinking as he looked around, unsure which direction the voice had come from.

  Does the process take sixteen ten days as with the unborn children of Ferentina and Xandria? Is our luminous friend a midwife? Do the walls grow teats to suckle infants as well as to feed prisoners? There must be a nursery somewhere nearby . . .

  "Here," said the voice again. He scanned the walls, wondering which of the obscene mouths might have opened.

  "There," said Cerri, taking his arm and moving him so that he could see. The cave had many columns and coverts, and the relevant alcove had been screened from his roaming eye.

  He saw what Cerri was pointing at, and understood why the person they had been brought to meet had not come forward to greet them. Not all of those who were gathered in this obscene place were spread thinly about the walls, but all were captives nevertheless, irrevocably joined in a union 'with the drago mite queen which was surely too intimate by far; He had to reassure himself that he and the captain had not been brought here to meet a similar fate. Whatever the mound-people wanted of Erelcth and her companions, it was not to add their flesh to this mad riot this diseased and dying riot.

  The person who had spoken had a head and a torso and two arms, but he Andris thought it was a he, although there was no conclusive proof had no distinct body-parts at all below the waist. He sprouted from the folded flesh that was layered upon this inner surface of the drago mite queen like some kind of appalling flower sprouting from bindweed covering a wall. He was not alone, but his companion was slumped down, seemingly dead.

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  Wilted, Andris thought. Rotting on the stem. He could not put out of his mind the thought that Princess Lucrezia had possessed a seed which was capable of doing to a healthy man what the drago mite queen had done to these, her human-seeming lovers.

  The two half-men were bald and ugly, but had their lower extensions been hidden by some discreet curtain they could have passed for human readily enough. Even the one which was unmistakably alive and wide awake seemed listless, as he stared at Andris and Checuti in a disconcertingly blank fashion.

  "Come closer," the half-man said eventually. The voice was deep but whispery.

  Andris obeyed, but Jacom Cerri hung back. In such poor light, Andris knew, they must seem little more than shadows to their summoner, but the half-man's eyes were big and their pupils must have been fully distended.

  "A pair of drones," the whispery voice opined.

  "Human males, from the purple forest, or beyond. I never thought to see such a sight. I greet you brothers." There was a croak in the voice now, as though it required a considerable effort for the half-man to speak at all.

  "Brothers?" Cerri repeated, as though the word had suddenly become loathsome to him. Andris, by contrast, felt that he knew all about the limits and petty treasons of brotherly love the term was no insult to him.

  "From far beyond the forest," Andris said, determined to be calm. He, after all, had legs. He had more. right to be in control here than anyone else he could see.

  "I thought so," said the half-man.

  "Do you receive news of the world, even here?" Andris asked. "Have you maps?"

  "We are brothers," the chimera insisted, evidently thinking that there were more important matters to address than the ext
ent of his knowledge of the world without.

  "You must understand that, if you can."

  We must understand everything, if we can, Andris thought. Is that not what Fraxinus would sayf What else is there for us to win but understanding provided, of course, that we can stay alive?

  "I am Andris Myrasol," he said aloud, speaking with awkward formality,

  "I

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  servant now. This

  isCaptain Jacom Cerri of King Belin's guard a soldier of the greatest empire in the world. "

  "We have little need of names here," the half-man said unapologetically, 'but you may call me Seth if you wish. I am a drone, consort of the drago mite queen, but my forefathers were yours; my ancestors walked on the surface of the world, as you do. Come closer. "

  It was Andris who obeyed this instruction. The half-man reached out a bony hand to him. It was trembling. Andris reached out and took it in his own, bearing its weight as the half-man's arm sagged. Their grip was not a conventional hand-shake, thumb to thumb, but a reversed clasp which allowed Andris to lift the other's hand and bring it close to his chest in a reassuring embrace, and this he did. It didn't seem so very brave, given that the other man was in no position to hurt him.

  He was very close to the half-man now. He towered above the other as he towered above almost all of his fellows.

  "Thank you, brother," the half-man said.

  Why am I doing this? Andris thought. How am I able to do if Have my wilder dreams prepared me for such gestures?

  "We had no idea that humans lived with drago mites Andris said.

  "We could not possibly have guessed that this was the manner of their partnership." ; "No," said the half-man, as Andris stepped back, releasing the feeble hand.

  "How could you? But we are human still. You must understand that. The warriors may have told you that we are all of one mind here, but it is not so. They do not understand. We are not all of one mind, nor all of one body, no matter how things may appear. I am a man, Andris. We are brothers in blood and brain."

  "He calls us brothers because he wishes to make claims upon us,"

  Cerri said, with cold, implacable fear in his tone.

  "He intends to invoke the responsibilities of brotherhood. Find out what he wants before you call him brother in return."

  Andris turned on the captain, unaccountably angered by the rudeness of this cynical interjection, but Seth uttered a thin laugh.

  "He's right, Brother Andris," he croaked.

  "He sees immediately what I am about what further proof of kinship do you need? He puts himself in my place, recognises my nature and my need. Who could doubt, now, that we are all brothers here?"

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  "What do you want?" Cerri countered harshly.

  "What do you want, Brother Jacom?" the half-man retorted resentfully.

  "Firstly, not to die. Secondly, to live well. Thirdly, to live long.

  Do I not read you aright? Am I not your brother in spirit and soul?

  Are we not all of one mind, in these respects at least? "

  "I'm no deist, to believe in spirit and soul," Cerri retorted grimly.

  "I believe in flesh, and flesh alone. All flesh has desires such as those.

  Were you the voice of the drago mite queen, you'd say the same."

  "Oh no," the half-man said.

  "I know far more than you about that.

  Your own queen has already heard what that voice has to say, and will hear far more. The drago mite queen is an altruist through and through; self-sacrifice is bred in every fibre of her being, for she is the ultimate mother and knows no will but motherhood. Were she not so vast and so imperious she'd be better called a slave than a queen.

  Her only desire is the survival of the nest- she cares not a whit for her own flesh, which has long since outgrown any capacity for self-awareness or self-protection. She will die content, but I cannot. I am a drone, like you. lam mind and memory, lore and lust. I am your brother, whether you will say so or not. All men are brothers, who have the forefathers in common. "

  "In Ferentina," Andris said whimsically, 'brothers are often the deadliest of enemies, becoming murderous in matters of inheritance.

  I've learned not to rely too much on the obligations of brotherhood.

  Perhaps you should tell us why you sent a messenger to bring us here.

  I fear that we're not in command of our fellows. We too have a queen of sorts, who has a giant warrior with a mighty spear to protect her from usurpers. I doubt that we're in a position to rescue you from the corruption which is evident hereabouts nor arc you, it seems, in any position to be rescued. "

  "Not true," replied the half-man, with a wry smile.

  "As you might have observed, certain affairs of the flesh work differently here.

  You have privileges I have not. . . but I have privileges of which you have never dreamed. Are you a gambling man. Brother Andris? "

  Andris imagined that he heard the voice of Checuti smothering a wry laugh.

  "Only for money," he replied.

  "Never with my life."

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  promises?" the

  half^ an asked. His voice was growing feebler by degrees, and his eyelids were drooping now. His thin arms dangled heavily, the fingers twitching.

  "I would not ask so much were the situation not desperate, but I swear that you'll be amply repaid, when circumstances permit."

  "What inconvenience?" Andris asked.

  "What promises?"

  "I want you to carry me out of here," the half-man said bluntly.

  "I

  want you to carry me out and keep me with you hidden if necessary but not too tightly wrapped, for I shall still need a little air to redden my blood. I want you to nourish me as best you can, with drops of sweet liquid squeezed into my mouth. I want you to keep faith with me even if I seem to be past recovery, until the flesh falls away from the bones of my skull. I want you to make what efforts you can to make me whole again, if and when you can find a way, and I want you to try as best you can to find a way. I hope with all my heart that all this will not prove too heavy an investment. In return, I promise that if ever you can rouse me from my sleep you shall have all the benefit of my wisdom. I must warn you, because I am a fair man, that you might have to go to Chimera's Cradle itself in order to recover that wisdom but if the world's crisis is indeed come, you will need me soon and you will probably find the means to do it much closer to home. Will you do it, Brother Andris? Tell me quickly, for there is little time to spare. "

  What is all this? Andris wondered. /( must be a dream. I must have fallen asleep when I drunk that drugged milk which oozed from the wall in my cell.

  This is a product of my own imagination: my deepest fears, my most profound resentments. But if that is what it is, why should I be frightened? All bving well, I should awake from it and if the worst comes to the worst, should I not count myself a lucky man to die in my sleep, without pain or ignominy or sensible awareness of the end?

  "I cannot see how it might be managed," he said aloud, 'but I shall be happy to try. Why should I not, Brother Sethy The long, thin arms twitched again, but then became still. If the half-man had been trying to raise them, he no longer had the strength to do it. His face was contorted, but there seemed to be more anger than anguish in the grimace.

  "You . . . will have to help me ... brother," he whispered.

  "Take my head in your hands, if you please."

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  Knowing perfectly well what was about to happen for was this not a dream of his own invention, incapable of producing any authentic surprise? Andris took the frail bald head in his huge hands. He did not have to twist or pull. The eyes closed, the mouth fell silent, and a fissure opened up in the throat in exactly the same way that a fissure had been opened up in the wall of their cell when the dream began, save that this parting was horizontal instead of vertical.

  "Andris," saidJacom Cerri, coming forward to join him at last, and deigning to use his given name.

  "Don't. . ."

  He was too late. He might have been a captain once, but he was a mere bystander now, with no possible claim on the friendship or loyalty of a man he had dishonestly wronged.

  Andris moved his own body, protectively, to screen the now- agonised expression of his unfortunate kinsman from Cerri's intolerant gaze.

  As he was gradually decapitated by the force of his own will, the half-man's features became calm again. His eyes eventually closed, as his unconscious head fell into Andris's tender care.

  No man certainly not his own brothers had ever placed such faith in him before. It didn't trouble him in the least that all he had received as a price for his solicitude was a very vague promise.

  Wasn't that the way men were supposed to treat with one another: with courage, with honour, and with trust?

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  A.

  15 lucrezia and ereleth faced the mound-queen together. Dhalla stood impassively on guard behind them, standing rigidly to attention with her spear in her hand, but that appearance was let down by the much tinier figure of Merel Zabio, who stood beside her in a calculatedly negligent slouch.

  The mound-queen's massive bulk was slumped awkwardly upon her remarkable throne, which seemed to have enfolded her even more tightly than before, as if it were a protective calyx folding in upon a flower as dusk fell. The two drago mite drones which flanked the throne to either side were agitated: their antennae bobbed and vibrated, and their front feet upraised as if they were hands were busy signing to the human workers and warriors who were constantly appearing and disappearing.