“I don’t see nothin’,” said Jules.
“Well, I do,” said Wodi, casting about in the mist.
After a few moments the old man said, “I’m drownin’.”
Wodi ignored him and paddled on. They came to a niche of glistening clay among the rocks. They drifted into the shallows, rose, and stumbled into the crevice. There was a broken path nestled among the towers and the mist, and they climbed through it. The old man sat on a step to rest, and Wodi climbed to a rocky aerie, where he sat and watched. He was in a cloud where the sound of rushing water beat like a memory. The tops of black rocks cut into the cloud, and white birds with crusted eyes slept like statues. They did not fly, but waited patiently to eat the worms that infested their own bodies. The worms tunneled even into the flesh, and the birds had to be careful not to eat the worms that held shut various veins and capillary ducts, for a great feast could unstop a plug and allow death to enter.
Sometimes the mist parted, and Wodi saw that he was directly below the sheer mountains that guarded the western end of the valley. The river opened into wide pool down below and drifted into a great cavern at the base of the mountains. An echo of the river’s descent flowed out, and the boy wondered how deep into the world he would have fallen if he had not surfaced when he did.
The old man sneezed below, and Wodi said, “Jules, you gonna make it?”
A tired voice down below said, “I’m about half dead.”
“We’ll rest a while, then.”
Something like a pig’s sigh came from the old man, and Wodi heard him turning, moving stones for a pillow, and the boy leaned forward to rest, too, but did not sleep in that place.
***
The ghoul runner dashed through the woods on all fours. He leaped over creeks and twisted around thorny oaks, unmindful of ancient clan piss-markers because he was on the lord’s business.
He came to the highlands where the trees were bent and cracked, weighed down by a crystalline plague that sent shafts of light winking at the ghoul. He heard a flute playing, the shifting senseless melody of the wind dancing through the distant towers. Suddenly the forest ended and his feet clattered against a floor of glass. A field of pink crystal towers stretched far above him at all angles. He could dimly make out the pulsing of soft, dark membranes behind the glass. The hollow, lonely song shrieked at the edge of his awareness.
Something large moved far above the ghoul, like the shadow of a great spider without joints, and the ghoul immediately shut his eyes and bowed low. A dark shadow hovered over him and he felt cold. Something like fingers moved inside his mind, sorting through memories. The hiss of soft static rang in his ears and hot breath tickled his spine. Rivulets of mucus poured onto the ground and ran between his fingers. He dared not move, dared not breathe.
The static turned into a violent hiss as the connection was forced deeper. The ghoul saw images behind his own eyes. He saw the place where the invaders had crossed the river, saw eyes opening wherever they went – eyes, eyes, eyes – opening everywhere as the shadow of the lord of the forest passed over little animals and insects. He saw the two humans who had fallen in the river, then saw them consigned to oblivion for they were irrelevant, chomped up in the mouth of the water and swallowed. Finally he saw his own comrades running, then stumbling along the bank. By their faith their minds were like open doorways, and he saw their thoughts becoming still and their steps becoming sure as they ran. They no longer felt exhaustion, worry, sorrow, hunger, thirst, or anything beyond a grinding death-lust as the currents of their thought were shifted and molded like buzzing, living clay.
As the vision receded, the ghoul was left with the impression that he would soon be freed from the shackles of the flesh. He would join with something immortal. Something wet and powerful hugged his neck and the back of his head. There was a violent, sucking, jarring motion, then warmth and the sensation of gliding through a long tunnel. His extremities were gone, his body left far behind. As he travelled through the dark tunnel he heard a multitude of voices greeting him, singing from the belly in the skull of the lord called Blindness.
***
The old man woke and saw the boy kneeling over him.
“We should go,” said Wodi.
“You’re in charge, eh?” said Jules, grimacing. He sat up painfully and wiped condensation from his hair.
The two looked at one another. Their clothes, made of Haven-gray moth web and wool, were soaked and shredded. Wodi helped Jules up and said, “You look like a flutter-fly coming out of its cocoon!”
“Feel like a dead dog gettin’ rolled in a grave,” said Jules. “Well, boss, you find any restaurants in the area?”
Wodi reached behind him and produced two long, heavy branches he had found. He gave one staff to Jules, then said, “We might find one up the road a bit.” Wodi paused as he regarded the narrow path that led up through the stones, then said, “Listen, I didn’t mean to boss you around earlier. It’s just… the others have the nutrimilk, you know? If we don’t find them soon, our options for food are going to get stranger and stranger by the minute.”
“I wouldn’t eat a goddamn thing I found in this hellhole!” said Jules.
“Yeah, you say that now,” said Wodi, smiling. “It’s hard enough putting up with you as it is! I don’t want to deal with you when you’re hungry.”
“The mouth on you!” said Jules. “In my time, I used to make life hell for pencil-necks like you. I’m a mess o’ trouble. You know that?”
Wodi walked along the tiered path of stones and said, “When we get back to Haven, and if I’ve got a few hours to spare, you can tell me all about it.”
“Listen, pipsqueak. I once tied a hungry dog to the front of a car and ran it into a guy so the dog could bite his ass,” Jules said proudly. “I’m like a gun or somethin’, I don’t look dangerous ’til I go off in your ass. If anybody messes with me, they better leave the whole planet, cause it’s his ass otherwise.”
The two clambered over the wet boulders that lined the river basin. The sun shone like a dim, gray star through the mist. The hum of the water died far below. They heard a sharp cracking ahead, as if two stones were struck against one another, over and over. They approached the sound cautiously. The old man leaned against a boulder while Wodi moved ahead, low, his staff clutched in both hands. Suddenly a fierce wind rode by and carried the fog away with it. On a wide plateau, beneath a rise of stone, stooped a lone boy with his back to the pair. He was a wiry, hairy boy of Wodi’s stature. He wore crude leather jerkins and had red, arcane tattoos along his arms and back. A sword in a rough sheath was strapped to his back. The boy pounded one rock with another, then grunted in satisfaction when he produced a particularly loud sound.
The boy stopped suddenly, sniffed the air, and whirled towards the pair. Wodi recoiled in shock, for the boy’s face was covered in ragged fur, his eyes were uneven black dots set under a sloping brow, and two long, blunt fangs punctuated his horribly uneven teeth.
A dogman! Wodi thought. So those things are real!
The pup tilted his head and said, through clenched teeth, “Who’re you? What you do?”
Jules shrieked, and Wodi heard him clambering up a rocky rise nearby.
Wodi breathed deep, then leaned against his staff. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Romana Kyner. My friends call me Wodi.” He spoke with a casual tone, but his hands shook, and he blinked often. “What’s your name?”
“I not give you my name,” the pup said, “or I become yours. Only my people know my name. I go on journey, finally become warrior.” He dropped the stones he held, and said, “But I get tired, play game of Hit Rock. It an alright game, sometimes.”
The dogman pup sniffed and eyed Wodi up and down with hungry eyes.
“A warrior?” Wodi said. “I bet you know a lot about this valley. My friends would surely like to ally with someone like you.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. The boy seemed dull-witted and bestial, a thing of pure kinetic energy. He wan
ted nothing to do with the pup, and he hated himself because he knew he would say anything to placate the savage.
The pup slapped his chest, said, “Believe it! I be great warrior soon. I journey long. I stomp a kitten yesterday, I throw a donkey off cliff day before that, and day before that I head-butt something so hard I forget what it was.”
Wodi thought of the poor, whipped animal he had freed yesterday. He swallowed painfully, then said, “Sounds noble. I’m sure your people are proud of you.”
The pup sniffed loudly, and his lips turned into a snarl. “I smell you,” he said. “Full of lying! You have smooth skin, soft like a bitch-pup.” The pup slowly reached behind him and grasped the hilt of his sword. “I take wicked tongue from you head, skin you and eat you meat while you scream!”
The pup unsheathed his sword and charged forward. He swung the blade out in a wide killing arc. Wodi yelped, stumbled to the side, and scrambled away. The pup barked and swung his heavy blade while Wodi stumbled in a circle around the plateau. The pup was a terrifying ball of fury, wholly unlike the cowardly ghouls. Wodi thought of leaping from the arena to escape, but there was nothing but sharp rocks far below. The heavy blade sliced the air inches from his head as he turned about, and he saw a vision of sitting in his warm room near the University. The blue lights were on, his cat laid on an open book and Wodi moved one of his paws so that he could continue studying – and he knew that he would never have a happy moment like that, not ever again, because of one barking psychotic freak of nature.
I don’t want to die! Wodi thought. Not like this!
At once he saw the face of Sevrik Clash. Crush his will with yours! said Sevrik. Your ancestors didn’t find Haven by begging for mercy!
Wodi’s heart burned and he felt strength blasting through his awareness. He stopped running, dug a foot in behind himself, and threw himself forward. As the pup swung his blade Wodi brought up his staff and blocked it. The blade dug into the wood and Wodi pushed himself against the beast. The pup pushed back and they stood face to face, eyes burning inches from one another.
“Stop this now!” said Wodi. “Or I’ll kill you.”
The pup whined with rage and jerked his blade free. He swung again; Wodi twisted the staff and blocked once more. He stepped back slowly, blocking each of the pup’s swings and gauging his rhythm. Mucus streamed from the pup’s nose and his tongue lolled out at the side. Wodi’s arms ached with the effort of blocking the heavy cleaver. He became adept at turning the staff so that he would not have to meet the blade head-on, but the pup was wearing deep gouges into the staff.
Sensing that the staff would soon break, the pup bore all of his weight into one great blow – but Wodi felt the opening and swung around in a wild arc, smacking the pup in the back of the head, wielding the staff as if it was a long bat. The pup stumbled and Wodi swung again, this time slapping the pup across his eyes, nose, and mouth. The pup bit off part of his tongue and fell to the side.
The pup knelt, covered his face with one hand, and let his sword rest on the ground. Wodi backed away, panting, his chipped staff held at the ready. “Stop this,” he said. “We’re both tired, and while you might beat me, you have nothing to gain from it.” A thick line of red-stained mucus hung down from the pup’s face and hand. Wodi continued, said, “Plus you’re predictable, and I... I don’t think you can win.”
Suddenly the pup lifted his face to his enemy, his muzzle smeared with red foam. He barked and sprayed red on the stone floor. He staggered to his feet, blind with rage and deaf to reason, and swung his sword once more. Wodi blocked the attack easily – but the attack was a feint, for the pup quickly reached out with his free hand and grasped one end of the staff. Wodi pulled away but the pup held tightly, laughing and spitting flecks of blood. He raised his sword and brought it crashing through the middle of the staff, shearing it in half and sending splinters through the air.
“Ha!” said the pup. “Now you-”
The pup was cut short as Wodi’s shortened baton came to rest in the middle of his face. Stars blinded his vision and when he raised his end of the staff to guard himself, another blow numbed his knuckles and sent the wood clattering to the stone floor. He staggered away and wiped tears from his eyes. When he opened them again he saw Wodi running at him, one wooden baton in each hand, his face disturbingly serene.
Now Wodi’s rage truly blossomed. Without pause he beat the pup about the face, ears, arms, and when the pup shielded himself his batons licked at the pup’s knees and feet. Unable to raise an effective defense, the pup backed away, then knelt in the shadow of a high rock.
Wodi approached, out of breath but unwilling to spend another moment with the savage. All at once Wodi felt the hairs on his neck rise and the pup’s ears twitched. Someone grunted above them – then a large stone dropped from above. Wodi and the dogman pup scampered away from one another as the stone crashed violently into the ground. Even as it rolled away Jules began shouting apologies, one laid on top of another.
Wodi staggered, felt wind at his back, then fell to his knees so that he would not fall into the abyss directly behind him. The savage pup saw an opening and, bellowing in victory, raised his sword and threw it. Wodi watched it swing end over end through the air, an executioner’s axe with the pup running full-tilt behind it. Wodi dropped his weapons and fell to the ground, locked eyes on the pup, and ignored the metal that slammed into his shoulder. The blade made a strange whooping sound, then fell into the mist far below. The pup leaped at Wodi. Wodi grabbed the pup’s torso and arm, felt the momentum, then twisted and fell sideways as he cast the psychotic beast into the sea of mist over the abyss. Wodi hit the stone floor, hard, and heard the pup bark once below. Wodi ignored the pain, grabbed one stick, and peered over the edge. The mist shifted and there was silence.
Wodi lowered himself onto a narrow ledge. He leaped down a series of rocky steps, his stick held high. The wind parted the mist and he saw the form of the pup below, lying in a bed of stone, his neck bent oddly and his head resting in a pool of bubbling red. Wodi leaned against a rock and breathed deep. It was a wonder to him that the little dogman’s set of experiences were gone forever, blotted out in the sea of decay, and only Wodi remained. He heard Jules apologizing far above.
***
Jules clambered down from the high rock and ran to the edge. “Boy!” he said. “You down there?”
He heard the boy panting, then saw him crawl out of the mist. The sword of the dogman pup was sheathed and strapped to his back, and his left arm was covered in blood. Wodi pulled himself over the wide ledge, glared at Jules for a moment, then offered him a weak smile.
“You okay?” said Jules, staring at the red arm.
“Yeah,” Wodi said quickly, then followed the old man’s eyes to his arm. He hissed as he saw the blood for the first time. He looked at the old man.
“You got hit with that sword,” said Jules.
“When?”
“When he throwed it at you. You don’t remember?”
“Oh,” said Wodi, pausing. “I thought the handle hit me.”
The old man scratched his neck and eyed him sideways.
“It doesn’t hurt that much,” said Wodi.
“You can’t feel it?”
“Part of me can,” said Wodi.
Jules leaned over the edge and looked for the pup. Wodi unsheathed the sword and studied it. It was a short blade made of dirty brown metal. The handle was smooth wood and the edge of the blade was very wide, like a cleaver made for swinging with one hand. Wodi winced and removed his shirt, then held one end in his mouth as he tied it around the deep black gash at his shoulder.
“Good thing the blade wasn’t sharper,” said Wodi.
Jules frowned at his optimism. He shook his head and said, “He was a tough li’l spit.”
“He was a fool.”
There was silence between them, then they heard grunting and commotion far away. The two looked at one another, then clambered up the high stone where
Jules had hidden. There was something dreadfully familiar in the approaching sound. Jules covered his ears.
Wodi lay flat atop the stone and watched the low pool, far below, from which they had come. White forms ran around on the far shore and dove into the pool, their cries echoing on the ancient stones. Wodi saw their leader carrying a long black spear.
Ghouls.
They swam the wide, calm pool, then rose onto the rocky shore shaking and growling. Wodi recognized them from before, but their cowardice was replaced with bloodlust. Wodi watched until they disappeared from sight.
“They ran all the way down the river to cross here,” Wodi said. “I don’t know what’s changed in them, but they know exactly where they’re going.”
Chapter Eight
Saul’s Amazing Journey
An excerpt from The Book of the Red:
In those days the fury of the Lord was sweeping over the face of the earth. In the city of Meket they had armed themselves with a great ring of clockwork soldiers, and the people of the land gathered in the city while the children of God gathered outside. The people of Meket drank and were full of sin because they believed that judgment could not find them. (This was even after the people of Vatica had made sacrifice in order to spare themselves from the wrath of the Lord.)
Now Mordecai lived in Meket and was a great man, but all were against him. He was a diligent man of learning but the entire world set themselves against him for no reason. Mordecai had been passed over for several promotions. Many people spit on him as he walked down the street, and they said, “No one is lower than Mordecai, for he does not even deserve a promotion!” But Mordecai prayed, and heard a voice, and the voice commanded him to turn off the clockwork soldiers. Mordecai pleaded that the city be spared, but the voice said that it would not. Mordecai pleaded for the Lord to spare him and his family, and the voice responded that he and his family would be spared. So Mordecai waited until the entire city was drunk, even the king and his ministers, and he pushed a secret button that played a song and sent the clockwork soldiers into a deep slumber.
Then the children of God came into the city. They felled any who stood against them. They dashed the children upon the ground, they killed every woman they found and cast them into a great mound, they took many men down into the secret places with them and those men were not, but the rest of the men they snapped in half and cast them onto the mound with the others. A cloud of smoke could be seen over the city for miles around, but Mordecai and six others were allowed to pass through the land unharmed. In that way Mordecai became a saint because he saved lives that would otherwise have faced judgment.
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