Legends of Garaaga

by Paul E. Cooley

  The pages were made of dried palm leaf and covered in symbols. The left page of the book was always covered in script similar to what Alexander's Indus translator used. The right side, however, was written in a completely different hand, more elegant, more pronounced. The impressions were thinner, yet whatever had been used for ink glowed in the wan light.

  As he turned the pages, the symbols on the right seemed to dance. Nerutal rubbed at his eyes and flipped to the back page of the book. The page was filled with a single symbol; a crimson colored spiral of marks that ended in a hook at the outer edge. It was the same symbol that had been tattooed on the backs of the villagers.

  Nerutal closed the book and returned it to his pack. He let his eyes drift back to the river. An insect hovered just above the water and disappeared in a splash as a fish gobbled it from beneath.

  The watch would have to be taken seriously now. No more pondering at the river-bank at night. No more leaning against a tree for comfort. Instead, they would all trade off in shorter durations which meant less sleep.

  Only four men left, and one of their number was ill. Too few to properly guard a camp. The girl had escaped the village. It was impossible to know if she traveled to another village to tell them of the battle or its outcome. With any luck, the girl would perish and the scouts would remain shadows in the deep forest.

  "Sir?"

  Nerutal continued to stare at the river. "What is it, soldier?"

  "Wounds are bound."

  "Packs ready?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You will carry Ellistan's share as well."

  There was a pause. Nerutal turned around to face Acquila. The young man's head was bowed.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good," Nerutal growled.

  Acquila nodded and headed back to the tiny camp.

  Nerutal turned back to the river. The woman in the river. She had been close to the boulder. Had she traveled the same path from the village? He had examined each of the female bodies, hoping to see her face among the number. But the woman hadn't been one of the fallen. But if she was a dream, some hallucination brought on by fatigue, why had she appeared near the boulder and the path?

  "Doesn't matter," Nerutal whispered.

  He turned from the river and walked back into the camp. Ellistan stood next to Acquila, attempting to retrieve his pack from the overloaded younger scout.

  "He carries," Nerutal said. "You walk."

  "Sir," Ellistan said and stepped away.

  "Darian? Are you ready?"

  "Aye."

  "You're on point."

  The old soldier smiled. "Of course, sir."

  They left the clearing and headed down the river-bank.

  When they passed the path that led to the dead village, Nerutal fought the urge to stare into its dark mouth.

  When Acquila woke him for his watch, Nerutal had snapped awake immediately. Before the battle, it took time for his mind to snap back to reality. But not that night. They might be hunted. Villagers might be streaming through the woods searching for the men that had destroyed a sister habitation.

  Acquila hadn't said a word, merely clenched his fist once. Nothing to report. Nerutal nodded and watched the soldier lay in front of the fire. He stifled a yawn and let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

  The afternoon had dragged on. The scouts had marched beneath the hot sun in silence. Ellistan and Acquila were both winded easily and the party had to make frequent stops. At each cessation, Darian checked the wounds on the young soldier, ensuring the poultices of mud and herb were still holding together.

  The sweat from the burning sun kept running into Acquila's cuts, making him wince. But again, he made no complaints.

  Nerutal was proud of the boy. Tomorrow, he would distribute their load more evenly, if only to ensure they could travel faster.

  Clouds had finally given them some relief from the heat, but the moisture in the air stuck to them like a plague. The mosquitos and flies enjoyed the shade, visiting the men in swarms. Fresh welts from bites covered their arms and faces.

  At dusk, Nerutal called a halt and they made camp in the forest. The men had to walk some distance into the tree-choked land before finding a clearing large enough for a fire pit and their gear. Darian dug the fire pit without being asked, while Acquila and Ellistan sat up against the trees.

  "You will sleep," Nerutal said to Ellistan. "You look better than yesterday¸ but not well enough for my liking."

  "Sir, I feel--"

  "Food. Rest. Sleep. That's an order."

  "Aye."

  "Darian, once you get the fire going, you're on first watch."

  "Sir," the old man growled.

  "Short shifts. Once the moon rises, wake Acquila. At its apex," he said as he turned to the young soldier, "you will wake me."

  Acquila nodded. "Dry for evening meal?"

  "Yes. Start unpacking."

  Nerutal had walked the perimeter of the small clearing. The trees were thinner in that part of the forest. He saw remnants of an old fire that must have made room for the young bark. At least they would have a clearer sightline in the night, but less of the moon's light would penetrate the canopy.

  Acquila had set out some of the booty from the village--dried meat and fruit. The men had eaten in silence.

  When they finished, Nerutal cleared some leaves from the ground and picked up a stick. "We are going to Lothal," he had said. "From Lothal, we'll secure passage to Ur." The scouts had looked at him expectantly. He smiled. "Then we're going to Babylon."

  For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. Darian rubbed at his beard. "If the King has sent orders to Babylon, we'll be in chains. Or worse."

  Nerutal pulled the book from his pack and held it up. "We have something to trade now."

  "What is that?" Ellistan asked.

  "The villagers kept it in some sort of temple," Darian said.

  Ellistan grinned. "You think Alexander will want it."

  "Absolutely, he will. At the very least, the magistrate will keep us safe until his return. And who knows how long that will be."

  "It's a gamble, sir" Acquila said.

  "Yes, it is. But it's either that, or we wander this valley for the rest of our lives."

  With that, Nerutal had placed the book back in his pack. The men said nothing more about the plan.

  As Darian took first watch, Ellistan and Acquila were already asleep. Nerutal followed soon after into a dreamless, restless drowse.

  He kept the fire to his back, glancing up into the leaf-choked sky. The moon was directly over them, although Nerutal could barely make out a sliver of its shape. At least it wouldn't interfere with his night vision. Without the intense moonlight, it would be difficult for him to spot interlopers. The small fire crackling in the pit was more than enough to scare off most animals, but would serve as a beacon to anyone looking for them.

  Should put it out, he thought. Ellistan's infrequent phlegm-choked coughs were another indicator of their position. If anyone was looking for them, they'd find the party easily enough. If Alexander had changed his mind and decided exile was not a strong enough punishment, they would have already died a thousand times over.

  Exile for service, Nerutal thought. He sneered in the darkness. He and his scouts traveled for months, gathering intelligence in the dangerous mountains and valleys apart from the comfort of the tents and servants, eating what they could scavenge or hunt. As had been planned, Nerutal's scouts attempted to meet up with the army more than a month after their departure in order to convey news. The army was not to be found.

  Alexander's forces had split into three, each taking a different path into the Indus. Nerutal had not known that, not until he found a regiment in the eastern portion of the country. By the time he and his scouts located Alexander's main camp, the rest of his men had died, all but the three sleeping near the fire.

  He wondered how many other groups like his had been sent for folly, only to be rewarded with exile or exec
ution. "Zeus Amon-Ra," he muttered.

  Nerutal scanned the woods and walked in a slow circle, his back to the fire. He stopped. A chill rattled his bones. He took a deep breath and tightly clenched the xiphos. Many lengths in the distance, the outline of a face stared at him. Its head was triangular like that of the village altar. The eye sockets were deep set and blank.

  Nerutal forced his eyes to blur, let them refocus, and stared again. The shape dissolved into a meaningless pattern of shadows. He let out the breath in his lungs. Just another trick of the trees.

  Since leaving the mountains and entering the forest along the river, the night watches could get spooky. Every once in a while, a tree's thick branches would become a grinning face or some djinn-like visage. But the singer in the river...

  "Garaaga," the villagers had chanted. He'd heard the name before and now that he thought about it, perhaps the naiades had sung it. Maybe. Or maybe it was just his mind looking for connections that weren't there.

  A branch cracked in the forest to his left. He slowly turned toward the sound, xiphos held before him. A small shape moved slowly across the forest floor. Another rodent of some kind.

  They had seen many strange animals since entering the Indus-- water fowl that stood on long legs, rodents with long bodies, and, of course, more snakes than Nerutal had imagined possible.

  He watched the shape move off deeper into the forest. The crackle of animals stepping on dead branches was another standard of night watch. That and the rattle of limbs or the whooshing wind high in the canopy. Nerutal glanced at his sleeping men and smiled.

  He looked up at the moon. It was already past its zenith and headed back toward the other horizon. Another crack caught his attention and he turned.

  The face was back, only this time, it was closer, larger. He blurred his vision once more and then refocused. The outline was still there. Still facing it, he reached down and felt for a rock or stick, anything he could use. His fingers finally touched something solid and he pulled it up with his left hand.

  The shadowy outline hadn't moved. He cocked back his arm and threw a heavy stick into the brush, aiming for the grinning visage. The stick bounced off a tree a foot away from the shape. Still, it didn't move.

  Nerutal held his breath, waiting. A light wind rustled through the trees. He fought the urge to blink as he stared into that face, that shape. Another branch cracked somewhere in the forest. Nerutal ignored it. The shape's mouth seemed to open wider, the eyes narrowing. The fire popped. Nerutal jumped in surprise. Adrenaline vibrating his body, he looked back where the shape had been. It was gone.

  The altar was bleeding. The villagers danced in a circle around their god as it chewed virgin flesh in its maw. The girl was screaming; blood flowed in sheets from her violated body. The triangular stone head dipped down into her belly and rose with loops of gray and bloody intestine in its teeth.

  "Garaaga!" the villagers chanted, their smiles wide and joyful. The thing continued consuming its prey, but the girl did not die. Her screams filled the air making his ears ring. The creature finished chewing and then snapped its head, removing a breast.

  The shrieking increased in volume, the chant following suit. His head ached, feeling as though it might split from the pressure. The thing raised its head toward the sky and howled.

  It moved on the altar as though perched, its long legs positioning its lower half just above the girl's. With a cry of triumph, its black and crimson penis became erect, its end a jagged stone. It heaved once and then forced the member into the girl. Her womanhood burst open in a spray of blood.

  Nerutal leapt from the ground, xiphos in hand. Darian stared at him, his own weapon pointed toward the ground. "Bad dream, sir?"

  Nerutal blinked. "Bad dream."

  "You were yelling, sir."

  He looked around the small clearing. Both Ellistan and Acquila were staring at him from their respective spots.

  "I--" Nerutal caught himself before apologizing. Leaders didn't apologize. Leaders didn't admit fault. Leaders led. "Bad dream," he muttered. "Ellistan. More dry for breakfast."

  "Aye, sir," Ellistan said.

  Dim sunlight made its way through a thick cover of slate clouds. Nerutal turned and stared into the forest. It took him a moment, but after scanning the pattern of trees, he thought he found where he'd seen the face.

  "Acquila, come here."

  "Sir."

  Within seconds, the young man stood beside him. Nerutal hadn't heard him move. "Do you see where I'm facing?"

  "Aye."

  "I want you to walk until I tell you to stop. Search for sign."

  The soldier began walking into the trees without saying a word.

  Nerutal watched him as he scanned the ground, taking one step at a time. The huntsman. His father may have been a bastard, but Acquila knew how to track and hunt like no other he'd known. Every few steps, Acquila turned in place to make sure he was following a straight line from his leader.

  The sounds of Ellistan rummaging through the village booty and readying their breakfast accompanied the morning's bird and insect song. Nerutal's stomach rumbled. The dream flashed back to him. The memory of the terrible thing atop the altar, eating, raping... Nerutal shivered and tapped the hilt of his xiphos.

  Acquila froze near the trees where Nerutal had last seen the face.

  "Sir?"

  "Yes?"

  "Found something."

  Goose flesh rose on his skin. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, trying to match Acquila's careful steps. Acquila squatted before a patch of ground.

  "I don't know what this is, sir."

  Nerutal peered over the soldier's shoulder. A large mark was pressed deep into the dirt. Instead of the round shape of a bear claw, it was in roughly the same shape as a foot. But there, the similarity ended. Instead of a curved in-step, the print was uniform with a five point mark in front of its large toes.

  "Are those claws?"

  "Aye, sir," Acquila said. "Near as I can tell."

  Nerutal looked past the print. There were more, rounding the tree. "Gods," he whispered.

  "That's not all, sir. Look at the tree."

  He followed the soldier's index finger to the trunk a few lengths away. The tree had deep groove marks, just like the boulder in the river.

  Nerutal's stomach burned, the thought of food forgotten.

  "Do you want me to track it back?"

  He shook his head. "No, soldier. I want to eat and make some distance today."

  Acquila stood and stared into the forest. "Sir? Did you see something last night?"

  "I don't know."

  The soldier turned and faced him. "The light plays tricks at night. We're used to that. But this," Acquila pointed to the ground, "is real."

  Nerutal nodded. "Eat. Pack. Leave."

  "Sir."

  The soldier walked past him and back to the camp. Nerutal stared down at the print. They had destroyed the village. They had taken the book. Had they profaned some god, some creature's holy place? "Just some animal," Nerutal said to himself. "Something we haven't seen before."

  He turned and set his back to the forest, making his way back to the campsite. The terrible vision in his dream and the girl's screaming would not leave his mind.

  The march was tense. Acquila was on point, his head constantly scanning the riverbank for sign. Darian once more brought up the rear, leaving Ellistan and Nerutal in the middle.

  Their packs were lighter now. After taking inventory of their stock, Nerutal had tossed many items from their village sacking. Gone were the bolts of cloth, many of the dried rations, and the jewelry they had found.

  The soldiers had said nothing while they cast the items aside, but he could tell Ellistan and Darian weren't pleased with the decision. Acquila, on the other hand, had almost sighed in relief.

  "We need to move quickly," he'd told the men. "We're being hunted by other villagers." Acquila had opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly after
Nerutal glared at him.

  "Sir, I saw nothing last night," Darian had said.

  "Yes, but I did. And more importantly, Acquila found sign."

  Darian had nodded and turned to the tracker. "How many?"

  "I don't know," Acquila had said. "Enough."

  "Ellistan?"

  "Sir?"

  "How fast can you go?"

  Ellistan had smiled. "If we have villagers chasing us with spears, I can keep up."

  "Consider it so."

  Thus far, Ellistan had been true to his word. Although his fever had increased during the night, the man was matching Acquila's pace.

  The sun was clothed in dark clouds, leaving the dense forest interior dark as pitch. Thunder rumbled behind as the storm chased them. The world flashed into brilliance from cascading lightning. The river rippled from the rising wind.

  "Going to be a big one," Acquila said. "At least we're walking faster with the wind at our backs."

  Nerutal looked ahead. Some distance down the riverbank, the trees crept back, affording more room to walk or camp. "I don't think we want to be next to the river when that comes through."

  "Aye," Darian said. "Likely to get washed away."

  "Acquila, look for a good gap in the trees for us to find cover."

  "Yes, sir."

  The wind began to howl as they continued walking. Acquila was no longer looking for sign; he was too focused on scanning the tree line looking for a good gap. Nerutal kept his eyes on the river, watching the water ripple. The current was definitely stronger now. The occasional limb streaked by in the churning green water.

  A flash lit the world behind them followed in a few seconds by a heavy wave of thunder.

  "Acquila! Find me something!"

  The young soldier may have responded, but the wind and thunder made it impossible to tell.

  "It's rising!" Darian yelled from the rear.

  The four men stopped and stared at the river. The frothing dull green water was higher against the bank.

  "Sod it. Into the trees, now!" Nerutal yelled.

  They marched at a quick pace into the tree line. Acquila's xiphos cut through thick brush, paving a way into the forest. The sun had disappeared completely as the artificial twilight descended. Rain cascaded down through the trees as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.