Tears of the Dead

by Brian Braden

  The lion’s skin had begun to rot, too. Fu Xi had already cut strips to reinforce the straps holding Red Blade to his back.

  Five mangy hyenas may bring down the lion.

  Fu Xi laughed deliriously at the thought.

  He looked about only to discover the downpour had transformed into snowfall. The wind ceased as heavy wet flakes softened the jagged gray mountain with an unbroken white blanket.

  Silence, so strange and alien after days of unceasing rainfall, filled his ears. His own heartbeat pounded in his chest so loudly Fu Xi felt certain it could be heard for a thousand miles. The silence also gave birth to voices. Children laughed and acolytes shouted his name. Sometimes, Tiejiang’s hammer rang out against the anvil, slicing clearly through the snow without echo. Fu Xi almost felt the forge’s heat, and heard Tiejiang’s laughter. More than once, a horse’s neigh made him spin about.

  “Heise, you are a lazy horse,” he croaked at the snow drifts, almost too weak to speak. “You can come out now. I promise I won’t make you carry me.” Breaths came in ragged puffs, each word heavy as an iron ingot. “You were very selfish to leave me. I would have killed the other lion, if you had...” he wheezed and steadied himself against a boulder. “...if you had only waited a few moments. Come out so I have someone to talk to.”

  Soon, the snow piled deeply all about. Bare feet numb and icicles dangling from the daggertooth fangs, Fu Xi trudged forward, seeking any path that would support his weight.

  Snow turned to drifts, and drifts to white waves frozen in mid-crest.

  So white, so soft. Perhaps I could lie down, if only for a little while.

  Lungs scraped the thin air with every ragged wheeze, reminding Fu Xi he still lived. His mind began to drift as his eyes grew heavy, and warmth spread through his limbs.

  ***

  As we walked, Leviathan told me this was the farthest outpost of the Empire of Poseidon, and I could dwell there as long as I desired.

  Glorious. In how many tongues can I say this word? It is the only word the God of Names can summon to describe Leviathan’s domain.

  A city unto itself, one could enter the Palace of Wu and never find their way out. Walls of the whitest marble and gilded ceilings lined endless halls, staterooms, sleeping chambers, dining halls, gymnasiums, baths, brothels, and pleasure gardens. Half a dozen kitchens fed Leviathan and his staff of warriors, servants, and concubines. Gardens bursting with a dizzying variety of exotic flowers and trees, imported from every corner of the empire, blanketed the grounds. Pools and fountains flowed from crystal clear springs throughout the estate.

  My questions melted under Leviathan’s radiance. Every time I presented an inquiry, he distracted me with a new wonder. Before I realized it, evening’s end found us upon gilded thrones, side by side, in Leviathan’s great hall.

  He held court among a thousand of his best warriors, the red men I came to know as Olmecs. Wearing headdresses overflowing with colorful feathers, they reclined across the hall’s expansive floor upon cushions and blankets. Even without their white armor, the jagged red and black body paint covering their squat bodies made them appear grim and eager to kill, even as they celebrated.

  The Olmecs reflected the throne room’s unexpected savagery. Instead of airy, refined columns and tapestries common to the rest of the palace, the throne room felt tomb-like, a man-made cavern of dark gray lava stone. Geometric gold and silver designs covered the ceiling. Every few feet along the long walls, a stone head, topped with a plumed headdress, glared out into the hall. Black iron braziers cast malevolent shadows across the giants’ ruby eyes and menacingly gaping mouths.

  Leviathan pointed to the heads. “This hall honors my elite Olmec Warriors, the Obsidian Guard. These statues memorialize their great captains who have served me in ages past. They hail from deep jungles in the narrow isthmus between two great continents. More loyal warriors, you will never find.”

  I glanced at Quexil lurking alone in the shadows, a living reflection of the stone heads. He nodded and smiled, mouth filled with the same sinister points.

  These Olmecs would bear watching, Quexil included.

  “Bring the feast!” Leviathan commanded.

  Clad in white silk like my host, we dined on tender meats, richly stuffed eggs, and roasted snails. Music of string and horn, so extraordinary that I cannot describe it, made my soul ache. Their wine, made from a fruit called a ‘grape’, must have been fermented in Heaven itself. And the women!

  At Leviathan’s command, a tapestry of nude women in every hue, every color, paraded before us to the beat of a lone, sultry drum. I recognized that a few were from coastal Cin. Some were like Amiran and Leviathan, with ebony flesh and long, lean, legs. Then came forth women with dusky flesh, rich, flowing locks, and delicious mysteries in their eyes. Finally, there came the most exotic women of all.

  Three ivory-skinned women danced before the thrones, one with hair of gold, one with hair of coal, and one with hair of fire. At first I thought they may be ice women, with skin so white it must be cold to the touch. The redhead leapt into my lap like a cat, straddling me with urgency. I found nothing cold about her.

  “Enjoy, brother,” Leviathan laughed. “But be cautious with the white ones. They bite.”

  Then I noticed a raised patch on the woman’s arm. A second glance revealed it to be a brand, a serpent wrapped around a spear. My heart skipped a beat as I fingered the delicate scar, and I realized she was a slave.

  She burrowed her face into my neck, seeking lips and darting tongue. Red wine embraced sweat, blending and becoming one in my blood. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back and surrendered to the fire haired woman.

  I caught glimpses of the ceiling, with its exotic geometric patterns, that wrapped around skulls and dancing skeletons brandishing clubs and spears.

  If not a throne room, then what purpose did this place serve?

  Images replaced reflection, instinct replaced thought. A chorus of drums joined the lone beat, pounding faster and faster. Air stifling, heart pounding, passion rose against my will. I caught only a glimpse of the women as they danced, sweating bodies throbbing to the beat. The Olmecs rose, pounding bare feet against stone in time to the beat. Wide, lustful gazes feasted on the line of women, now separated from the warriors by only a narrow strip of floor. The women turned their backs to the men and faced Leviathan, undulating as if taunting the warriors. The men howled in response and sliced their chests with obsidian blades, smearing blood over their war paint. The air sizzled as blood, music and passion built to unbearable levels.

  Leviathan sat impassively staring at the throng and ignoring me as I struggled against the spell. The skeletons on the ceiling seemed to come alive, tormenting my spirit as the throne room transformed into a dark temple, the feast now a sacrifice. I drowned in pleasure, unable to heed my hearts warning call as I felt her tongue run over my neck...

  ...and then her teeth.

  Before darkness took me, I recall Leviathan raising his hand and dropping it. The Olmecs surged forward, snatching the women into their midst; grabbing, pulling, taking...

  ...screaming.

  “For this is why the gods came to earth,” Leviathan smiled from behind his goblet.

  Skeleton’s danced above my head, and mute giants looked on as the world vanished in fire and flesh.

  The Chronicle of Fu Xi

  ***

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  The snow is soft, and not so cold. I will be stronger with a nap.

  It rumbled again, sharper, closer.

  Will I die? Or perhaps I shall only freeze, and reawaken with the spring.

  Fu Xi’s eyelids grew heavy, warmth spreading through his limbs.

  A tremendous boom shook the mountainside, snapping Fu Xi from the deadly stupor, and he began to shiver anew, life surging through his limbs again.

  The boom transformed into a low, rumbling growl, and then a primeval roar.

  Disbelief stirred the demigod to
action. He groped for the hilt around his shoulder like a dog chasing his tail, before falling into the snow in a heap. He seized the hilt, only to find the sword had frozen to the lion hide. Summoning his strength, he ripped the sword from his back. Patches of frozen fur clinging to its edge; what had once been magically light, now felt like lead.

  He staggered up.

  It’s close.

  To his left the beast growled again, a cat’s purr magnified a thousand fold.

  It knows I’m here.

  The expectation of battle heated his blood, reawakening nerves already raw from the venom’s fire. The pain reminded Fu Xi how close he’d come to giving up.

  The air thickened, as the heavy, lifeless snowfall suddenly swirled in silent vortices.

  Could it be the beast from the cave? Fu Xi thought that doubtful, the lair had appeared abandoned for centuries.

  He looked up in hopes of spotting the creature. The gray momentarily darkened as something ominous swooped overhead, just out of sight, just out of reach.

  It’s toying with me.

  Fu Xi didn’t like being the mouse, but if it wanted him, he could do little to thwart its attack.

  A tremor shuddered underfoot as it landed close by, just beyond the white curtain.

  “Mother,” Fu Xi whispered, unable to contain a smile. “I have found your dragon.”

  ***

  Naked, I woke alone in the cavernous throne room. Only a few torches lit the dim chamber, now cold as a tomb. I stood, my feet covered in wine or blood, which I knew not. The chamber had been swept clean, not even an overturned goblet remained. The giant heads stared mutely into the emptiness, granting neither approval nor condemnation.

  I caught a whiff of a smoky, sweet odor and caught Amiran scrutinizing me from the shadows. Even in the darkness, I could not mistake his disappointment. He pointed to a white garment draped across a stool.

  “Your robe, my Lord. A hot bath awaits in your chamber.”

  With that, he turned and departed, leaving me alone with my shame.

  The Chronicle of Fu Xi

  ***

  Sword supported by unsteady arms, Fu Xi trundled toward where he suspected the dragon waited.

  It’s a bull, I know it!

  The snow under his feet thinned, and Fu Xi sprinted headlong into the blizzard. His grin expanded into a maniacal mask. Fu Xi didn’t care that he lacked the strength or armor to defeat even an adolescent female dragon, let alone a fully mature bull. He took the dragon’s presence as a gift.

  Let it end this way.

  On this day the son of Nuwa would meet this great beast in battle; a blessed avenue to a glorious ending, an ending fitting for a god.

  The snow thinned to a meager flurry as the air grew even colder. White transformed to gray, gray to an enormous black form looming above him. As he sprinted toward the beast, Fu Xi let loose a war cry and struck the Red Sword against a nearby boulder, neatly cutting a swath off the granite and purging the blade of ice and hair.

  The snow parted and Fu Xi faced a cliff.

  Panting in great misty heaves, he touched black rock. A growl bubbled up from behind him. Fu Xi wondered how the beast maneuvered around him so quickly, so quietly. He also realized the dragon had now trapped him against the cliff, cutting off any escape.

  He’s an old beast...a crafty beast.

  Fu Xi extended his sword and prepared for his final battle.

  “Lord of the Mountain, I am Fu Xi, Son of Nuwa!” he shouted and rattled the sword against the cliff. “Show yourself, and let us get this over with.”

  As if in response, a fresh growl echoed around him.

  The snowfall slowed to only a few drifting flakes. The world fell still. Fu Xi’s eyes darted left and right, waiting for the attack. Perhaps it would descend from above, trying to impale him with claw spikes. Maybe the dragon would charge, wings pulled back like cat’s ears, and snatch him up in iron jaws. Or the dragon may simply deliver a bolt of fire against the cliff, incinerating Fu Xi without honor.

  Instead, human laughter, like melodious chimes, rang out from the mist.

  ***

  A hot bath and warm breakfast didn’t cleanse my spirit. My heart felt as if bathed in venom.

  A jovial Leviathan found me sitting on my window ledge, staring at the city. As morning waned to afternoon, we strolled through one of the palace’s many gardens. While Leviathan talked of his far off land, my thoughts drifted to the feast and the brands on the slave women, and the savagery I witnessed.

  I stopped and interrupted him. “Many of these mortals are slaves, are they not?”

  Leviathan crossed his arms and nodded, as if he’d been expecting this question. “The feast, it disturbed you?”

  “Yes.”

  “The mortals or your behavior?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will get used to it. Such rituals are for their benefit, not ours.” His grin reminded me of Quexil’s. “It only overwhelmed you because you were unaccustomed to its intensity. The Obsidian Guards hold such feasts to honor us. Quexil says your behavior last night greatly honored them.” His grin only grew wider. “They can’t wait until the next celebration.”

  “You should have warned me. My conduct was unworthy of the Son of Nuwa.”

  He considered me as if I were a fool. “By what measuring stick do you judge yourself? By mortal man’s? Does a lamb judge a lion? Free yourself from such obscene notions, brother. Gods make their own rules.”

  “Were any of the women hurt?” I demanded.

  Exasperated, he poked my shoulder where a barely noticeable blemish remained from last night. “Which one bit you?”

  “The redhead...I think.”

  “Like a cat that purrs before biting the hand that strokes it.” Leviathan chuckled. “Did she die?”

  “I remember nothing after she...serviced me. But you know tasting our blood will kill any mortal creature.”

  He continued his stroll. “She knew that. Her people hail from an island of cold mists on the edge of the Icelands. They believe it’s possible to attain immortality by drinking a god’s blood. When they can’t get god’s blood, they’re quite content drinking each other’s.”

  “Does this superstition condemn her and her people to slavery? Perhaps they are better served with enlightenment.”

  “She would rip open your throat and die feasting on your blood before she would succumb to ‘enlightenment.’ She cannot rise above her breeding. No mortal can.”

  I thought of Tiejiang and my beloved Nushen.

  “What of your Scholars? Amiran is a remarkable fellow.”

  “The Scholars are my father’s dogs!” Leviathan snapped, his rage taking me aback. He quickly composed himself. “My father graciously provided Amiran to assist me in exploring the Cin’s coastal areas. His service has been invaluable. Let me express my point a different way.

  “All men are slaves to their own weakness, to death. Am I right?”

  I searched my mind for one instance where mankind lifted themselves to enlightenment without my intervention, but could not find one example.

  “Yes,” I confessed.

  “No matter how high they fly, they will always succumb to the weight of their petty desires. We must not teach them, we must lead them. Only in this manner, can they be truly fulfilled.

  “A god’s brand is a symbol of life and liberation, our collars, rungs by which they climb from darkness. The Sons of Poseidon call it The God’s Burden. Brother, never forget they are only a step above the animals, ready to tear out our throats for the slightest taste of immortality. On whatever shores the Sons of Poseidon make landfall, we find them as mere brutes. Is it so different with Cin?”

  His words fell across the soil of my heart, waiting for the right moment to germinate.

  “Are all of them slaves?”

  “All mortals are slaves to a god’s will, but warriors and sailors carry no brand and wear no collar. Olmecs are naturally gifted to the natural order of the
universe. Of all mortals, they are the most loyal.”

  “Slavery is against all Nuwa has taught me. It is forbidden in Cin.”

  “Did you not tell me the ways of Nuwa are vanishing? Didn’t you tell me the kings in Cin make war on one another?”

  “I did.”

  “A strange reward for so many millennia of service, I should think.”

  He held out his arm in a great sweeping motion, as if he could behold the entire world with a single glance. “Where the Eleven Princes reign, men do not starve or make war on one another. The Palace of Wu is only a shadow of Poseidon’s greater glory. Tell me, Son of Nuwa, what have you to show in your lands?”

  In that sliver of time, I doubted an eternity of service, and the seeds took root.

  “Do not be sad. I know everything you and the great Goddess Nuwa did for the land of Cin, you did for love. I only offer another way, no less steeped in love.”

  He patted my back as if consoling me. “If the slave girl still lives, I will see she is punished.” Leviathan continued his stroll.

  “There is no need to punish her.”

  His voice darkened again. “Mortal bites come in many forms, some nibble like sweetest honey, others snap with a viper’s fangs. Do not trust to your immortality for protection. Love them, but never trust them.” He raised his finger. “They will worship you. They will fear you. They will serve you. But mortals will never love you. The God’s Burden is simple: From men, take what you want. For men, give what they need.”

  He stopped again and considered me again. “I see doubt.”

  “It is not my intent to offend you. It is only that you have shown me things I’ve never considered.”

  “Consider this...Serve or rule, a god must choose.”

  His mood lightened, and he hugged me around the shoulder. “My long lost brother, you are now one of us. The days and pleasures of this world are endless...” He clenched his fist. “...ours for the taking! Fu Xi, you belong among the Sons of Poseidon.”