Tears of the Dead

by Brian Braden

  “The same punishment as Alad!” several of the Minnow shouted.

  The cry of “Exile!” rippled across the Minnow.

  “There will be no judgment until I decree it!” Aizarg shouted.

  “Is the son of the Uros above the law?” Virag cried out again.

  The clans began to separate, stepping over the Spine to their respective sides. Kus-ge and Ba-lok joined their people, flanked by Virag and Ro-xandra.

  “He confessed,” Ba-lok said.

  “He didn’t steal!” Atamoda teetered on hysteria.

  “As I said, there will be no judgment until I decree it!” Aizarg shouted again, but Atamoda sensed his control slipping.

  Kus-ge further stoked the fires. “Ba-lok surrendered Alad immediately. If I remember, that judgment came swiftly. Is there one set of laws for Crane and another for Minnow?”

  “My child starves, and the son of the Uros steals?” A Minnow woman raised her fist.

  “Atamoda has always given more rations to the Crane than the Minnow!” another cried.

  Okta slapped Ghalen on the back and whispered something. They grabbed Levidi’s arm, and all three vanished from the barge.

  Virag smugly tucked his thumbs into the rope securing the tunic around his waist. “Perhaps we cannot trust the Uros to deal fairly in these matters. The Second has already demonstrated his impartiality. Alad met justice. Alad is dead.”

  Virag turned to the crowd and raised his arms. “Perhaps it is time for a new Uros!”

  The Minnow cheered, and to Atamoda’s horror, sticks and clubs began to circulate behind Ba-lok and Kus-ge.

  Sana stepped between where Aizarg stood with his son and the restless Minnow.

  “Stop this!” Aizarg raised his staff. “We are one people. Justice will be served, but only after all the facts are heard.”

  But the Minnow weren’t listening, and the Crane were unarmed. Aizarg and the Crane slowly began to back away.

  “Take the flotilla!” Virag shouted. “Take the food!”

  Brandishing fishing spears, Okta and the men reappeared and stood side by side with Sana.

  Behind them, Spako loomed, log in hand.

  “We will not let you take Kol-ok or the food. Aizarg is Uros. You pledged your spears,” Okta shouted.

  “Treachery,” Ghalen extended his spear toward the Minnow.

  “I see. It is all clear now,” Kus-ge hissed. “Conspiracies, alliances...this wedding was nothing more than a plot to neutralize the Minnow and take our food.” She reached between her legs and withdrew a black dagger.

  Sana drew Vengeance.

  Aizarg pushed his way between the clans. “Enough!” He lowered Ghalen’s spear tip. “This is madness. Lower your weapons and let sanity prevail.”

  “Liar!” Virag brandished a club.

  “No!” shouted another voice, a man’s voice. She turned to see Kol-ok step into the center beside his father, dragging the boat he and Aizarg had crafted together.

  “I am guilty. I accept exile.”

  Atamoda pushed Sana and Okta aside and embraced her son. “Tell them you didn’t do it! You’re not a thief.”

  Kol-ok gently pushed aside her hands, Aizarg’s determination in his eyes.

  “No. Mother, you must let me go.”

  She turned to Aizarg. “Husband?”

  Aizarg lowered his head.

  “Aizarg?”

  Gently but firmly, Sana came between Atamoda and Kol-ok. “Atamoda,” she whispered where none could hear. “You son is saving his people. You must put aside the mother and become patesi-le.”

  “I cannot,” she sobbed.

  “You must.”

  Sana’s heart ached for Atamoda and the Lo as she witnessed them changing, becoming like those she left behind. Yet, Kol-ok’s sacrifice gave her hope. One day, Atamoda would rejoice in her son’s courage, but that day lingered far away.

  Atamoda sagged to the deck, sobbing into her hands. Sana knelt over her, glancing back at the Minnow.

  Clubs and spears began to lower, as disappointment painted Kus-ge and Virag’s faces.

  I should have killed her.

  “Ghalen.” Sana tried to get her betrothed’s attention. She would be strong for Atamoda, but he needed to be strong for Aizarg.

  Ghalen nodded and then lowered his weapon. “The Uros has spoken. Justice is served. Everyone put down your weapons, go back to your rafts while we do what is necessary to prepare for Kol-ok’s exile.”

  Ghalen snatched Ba-lok by the tunic and slammed him against the mast. “I’m watching you and that snake you call a wife.”

  “Get your hands off...!”

  Ghalen lifted him off the deck, shoving him hard into the mast again. “You are now my enemy.”

  Ghalen threw him to the deck. Ba-lok slunk away, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Okta, look over Kol-ok’s vessel, make sure he has what he needs.” Ghalen turned to Sana. “We will stay with Aizarg and Atamoda.”

  Kol-ok faced his father, but Aizarg would not look at him. The Uros leaned heavily on his staff, looking suddenly old. For a while, they said nothing while Okta and Ezra solemnly prepared the boat.

  Okta stood close to Kol-ok and whispered, but Sana heard every word. “There are six fish cakes in there, Ezra and I donated our rations in addition to the three allocated. A sail and a paddle are hidden under the blanket. I’ve placed a net in the boat, too. Cast whenever you can. Once you are out of sight, catch the full wind and let it carry you. If you can see the stars, then sail south, Kol-ok. Always south.”

  Kol-ok nodded. “Thank you.”

  Ezra held out his metal knife. “I always liked your flint knife. Want to trade?”

  Kol-ok swapped knives. “Thanks, Ezra.”

  “If you don’t like it, we’ll swap back when I see you again.”

  Okta and Ezra stepped away, leaving Kol-ok with his mother and father.

  “Ba-tor...” Kol-ok choked. “He won’t understand. Just tell him I went looking for the fish.”

  Aizarg nodded. Sana feared this could break the Uros. If he broke, they would all break. Sana grew up among warriors desperate to prove their bravery. She’d witnessed great feats of courage the way others watch the sun rise and set. Scythian bravery was born in blood, but she’d never witnessed courage such as this.

  Silent tears rolled down Sana’s cheeks as she leaned over and brushed Atamoda’s hair and kissed her head. Words came out of her mouth, though they seemed like someone else’s. “Go to him. Give him love and strength, the way you once suckled him to your breast. Gird him. When your grief ebbs, and the desolation that rends your heart is no more, remember this: The greatest courage is that born in love, and the greatest love is that which lays down its life for another.”

  Atmoda rose and approached her firstborn.

  “Why?”

  “Because I must.”

  “But...”

  “I need you to accept this. Trust me, Mother. Please, I beg you.”

  Heart breaking, Sana watched Atamoda embrace her son for the last time. Atamoda sniffled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “When did you get taller than me?” she laughed through her tears. “I don’t understand, but I will trust. I will serve. I will wait until we see one another again. And I will always love you.”

  The canopy fluttered as warm, moist wind swept unexpectedly over the arun-ki. The decks groaned and popped, and the Spine went limp.

  “The wind and tide have shifted!” Okta raced for the flotilla’s edge.

  Confused, Sana looked at Ghalen. His worried expression told her everything.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told Atamoda and followed Ghalen after Okta. The decks began to buck before they even reached Okta’s raft, where Okta and Ghalen peered south.

  Warm rainwater pelted them as the horizon pulsated with lightning. Thunder began to boom like war drums.

  In the thunder Sana though she heard something else, though her mind told her it could not
be.

  Upon the gale, a beast roared.

  “Uros!” Okta shouted as he leapt onto the Wedding Barge, followed by Ghalen and Sana. “A storm bears down from the south, and I don’t like the looks of it. The wind, the current, everything has changed. We don’t have much time.”

  “Everyone to the center barges,” Aizarg commanded.

  Atamoda leapt to her feet, grief pushed aside as lightning began to strobe around them. “Sana, help me move the children to the Supply Barge.”

  “We must complete the exile!” Kus-ge screamed.

  “One more word out of you and I will place you in exile,” Aizarg said. “Get the Minnow to the barges, now!”

  The rafts began to bump and bang into one another as the flotilla lurched sideways, slowly rotating about its axis to face the wind and current.

  The Lo streamed onto the Supply and Wedding Barges, as Okta arranged them to best balance the rafts.

  The decks started bucking and pitching as Ghalen ran ropes across the decks for the woman and children to cling to.

  “We’ve endured many storms,” Atamoda tried to comfort the crying children. “We’ll be fine.”

  Sana knelt next to her, helping Alaya secure Ba-tor and the twins to the line. “Do you hear it, Atamoda?”

  “What?”

  “In the thunder, do you hear it?” Sana’s eyes darted about.

  “I don’t understand.”

  A violent wave swept over the deck, almost washing Atamoda away. Hanging onto the line with one arm, she sputtered and tried to clear her stinging eyes. The warm water tasted like sweat.

  Where only minutes ago, the Minnow and Crane prepared to fight, they now united in battle against the maelstrom. She heard Aizarg’s voice above the rattling canopies, “We’re riding too low!”

  “The storm wall is gone!” Okta shouted back. “The bow rafts are breaching.”

  One moment, the overhead canopy protected them. The next second, it simply vanished. In quick order, the gale stripped away every canopy from the arun-ki. The Lo huddled against the decks, as naked against the Deluge as they were the first day.

  Sana grabbed Atamoda’s arm and pointed up, shouting above the gale. “Look! Do you see it?”

  Atamoda wiped the rain from her eyes and peered straight up into the stormy vault. Pillars of glowing clouds towered into the heavens, trading lightning as if they battled one another for the little flotilla at their feet. And then Atamoda saw it, or thought she saw it. Each lightning bolt silhouetted black wings stretching across the sky. Two glowing red orbs floated at their center.

  Before Atamoda could scream, the Wedding Barge pitched down and buried itself into an oncoming wave.

  The raft shot from under the waves. Atamoda fought for breath as she searched the rope for the children. They were all there, the women gripping them tightly.

  Except for Ba-tor.

  She looked back and, to her relief, saw her terrified little boy clinging to the mast. She released the line, seized him and hugged the mast.

  A moment later, Sana joined them.

  She felt the raft lurch broadside to the wind, followed by sickening splintering sounds which competed with the thunder. Around them, the flotilla they called home for the past 40 days began to disintegrate.

  “The sea anchor is gone, I can feel it.” She squeezed Sana’s hand. “Here we are again!”

  “At least I can swim a little now,” Sana smiled nervously.

  Whitewater shot over them like raking claws, smashing raft chunks and boats against those clinging to the decks. Something slithered next to the mast, making Atamoda jump in fright. Then, to her horror, she realized it was the Spine, that mighty cable they’d spent so much time weaving. It ran out from beneath its guide loops and fled over the side.

  Horrified, Atamoda stared at what remained of her nation, clinging to the life lines and masts. Every snapping rope and breaking log signaled the end of their world.

  We’re not going to make it.

  The sea felt too warm, like shallow lagoon water under a summer sun.

  Another wave hammered them, accompanied by loud grinding and crackling. When Atamoda looked up, most of the flotilla had vanished. Only the two barges and one bow raft remained intact and lashed together. The men ran across the decks with salvaged rope, trying to bind what remained together. Aizarg stood in defiance only a few feet away, tightly gripping the staff resting in its hole. Hair matted to his face, he grimaced against the howling wind.

  She heard the roar again, mingling with the thunder. Above, a black, whip-like shadow writhed from the sky. Glowing sickly blackish-green, it snaked from the clouds and emitted a pulsing, whirling sound. Sana followed her gaze and screamed, but no one else seemed to notice the sinister apparition bearing down on them. As if possessed with a malignant will, the twisting sky demon kissed the raging sea in an explosion of water and snaked toward them. Atamoda had no chants against this evil.

  The wind strengthened with such force, Atamoda thought it would strip them away. Then a beam, bright as the sun, poured from above. Atamoda stared into the heavens filled with lightning and fire. As if they could not see, no one else save Sana and Atamoda paid attention to the brilliant light or the demon zigzagging toward them.

  A ruddy light from her left caught Atamoda’s eye. Glowing tendrils emitted from Sana’s largest dagger. Then, in a peel of thunder, a serpent of golden fire with eyes of blue lightning, bolted from the clouds and plunged toward the whirling demon. Atamoda heard another roar, and then the red orbs vanished. The blackish funnel evaporated before reaching the rafts.

  The heavenly apparitions disappeared, but the storm remained.

  Another wave assaulted the barges. A log slammed into Atamoda’s arm and knocked her from the mast. Sana reached for her, but Atamoda didn’t take her hand, fearful the girl would lose her grip on her son.

  “Hold on to Ba-tor!”

  She clawed frantically at the deck and ropes as the torrent dragged her toward the edge. Hands reached for her, but none could catch Atamoda before she slipped over the side.

  At the last moment, her li-ge snagged a ragged log. The thin leather necklace sliced into her neck, but prevented Atamoda from falling into the sea. Each trough plunged her underwater. Each crest yanked her from the sea by her neck. With one hand, she desperately reached for a protruding log. Her other hand clawed underneath the strap, fighting strangulation.

  Fingers emerged from the edge and gathered up the leather strap, pulling Atamoda up slightly.

  She tried to call out, but the necklace choked her.

  Kus-ge’s grinning visage leered over the side. Atamoda extended her hand, but Kus-ge didn’t take it.

  A dagger flashed.

  Leather surrendered, and Atamoda plunged into the sea.

  47. Chase the Sunset

  Smoke and fog clung heavily to the forest at dawn. Outside the stables Elda and Ercole tended to Amiran, who sported minor burns on both hands.

  “You were foolish to linger so long,” I chastised Amiran.

  “I had to get my pipe,” he said.

  “He stumbled out of the gray tower with an armful of scrolls, trying to drag those heavy boxes,” Elda chastised her teacher as she wrapped his blistered fingers in torn linen. “If you had not been there to drag him the rest of the way, Lord Fu Xi, he would have died.”

  “They are important, child! More important than you can imagine; more important than my life.”

  “What is in there?” I asked, kneeling next to the iron-bound chest Amiran sat on.

  He tapped the box. “This box holds hope for mankind’s freedom.” Amiran nodded to the other nearly identical chest, perhaps knee high and partially blackened. “And what’s in there will hopefully keep me alive long enough to set those events in motion. But we must dwell on this moment if hope is to survive.

  “Listen carefully, friend. It wouldn’t surprise me if Leviathan is close enough to see the smoke rising from his ruined city. You must fl
ee.”

  “Flee? No, I will face Leviathan.”

  “No!” Amiran grabbed my arm. “You are powerful, but you’ve made an enemy of eleven gods. Each can summon great fleets and armies in the hundreds of thousands.

  “The world shall descend on Cin.”

  The Chronicle of Fu Xi

  ***

  Fu Xi twisted a stalk of grass between his teeth and considered his watery reflection, thinking of the ghastly image that once stared back at him. He rubbed his chin, noticing how his face had taken on an edge, how his eyes had hardened. His strength had returned, but even on a steady diet of deer and antelope, he hadn’t fully regained his weight. Fu Xi knew something inside had changed, though his transformation’s true nature had yet to reveal itself.

  “I’m not quite so terrifying anymore, eh Heise?”

  The horse flicked his tail noncommittally. Heise waited in the middle of what had been Fu Xi’s camp, bulging bags hanging off both flanks. The lean-to appeared as if ready to host another night’s sleep, the fire pit need only be rekindled.

  But he could not stay. The thunderheads, ever present guardians of the southern and western horizons since his arrival, vanished a week ago. Clear blue skies stretched in all directions, beckoning Fu Xi to resume his quest for the man with white hair.

  The curse is lifted.

  He twisted the golden stalk in his hand, running his thumb over the full head of grain. Wild grains, like this wheat, flourished around the enormous lake.

  He knelt down and picked up a twig. Fu Xi idly scratched a crude drawing in the dirt. He had spent several weeks exploring this land and discovered the lake rested in the center of an enormous oval basin. Protected from the Deluge on all sides by a ring of mountains, the basin stretched three hundred miles east and over a hundred miles north from his camp on the western border.

  He considered the map, wondering if Amiran would be proud.

  It looks like an eye.

  “The Navel of the World, that’s what Mother called this land, Heise. I like the name.”

  A place of healing.

  ***

  I didn’t know if I had saved my people, or condemned them to generations of war. “I must go home.”

  “Exactly. There is a small ship waiting for you on the western coast, about a day’s ride across the coastal range. Sunnah will guide you. Thankfully, this ship wasn’t in the harbor last night, and the captain owes an old friend of mine a favor. He will take you across to Cin. You must prepare your people for Leviathan’s coming.”