Sowing Dragon Teeth

by James Alderdice

  He was using his saddle as a pillow, but his bright blue eyes were beacons in the dark, watching her unmoving.

  She wanted to say something, but she was at a loss for words. Why hadn’t he awakened Catlo and the others? Why didn’t he stop her from releasing Diamanda?

  He looked at her a moment longer then rolled over.

  She lay there awake for a long time, puzzled over why he hadn’t signaled the alarm or said anything to her. She finally fell asleep just as the dawn teased at the horizon.

  “Damn her to the seven hells!” shouted Catlo.

  Aisha’s first thought was that he was speaking of her, she was defensive and reached for her dagger at her belt, but it was gone! Had they disarmed her again in her sleep?

  Ole was standing beside Catlo and he cast a sidelong glance at Aisha.

  She glanced back at her bedroll where her sword and belt lay. They hadn’t disarmed her.

  Musa looked at the tracks in the sand. “She took her horse and rode back north, toward the Kathulian host.”

  “Feroze! You were on the final watch and you failed!” snarled Catlo.

  “I protest,” he said. “The woman beguiled me. She was a witch and threw an enchantment upon me and I was helpless. It’s a wonder I am still alive I tell you. I swear by Cybele, that is the truth.” Feroze crossed his chest multiple times in the sign of adoration of Cybele.

  It was humorous to Aisha that a follower of the Kathulian prophet and their six-armed goddess was a bandit and theoretically at war with the very religion he was so beholden to. But people are strange.

  Ole glanced at Aisha but said nothing.

  “Feroze. Give me one damn reason not to stake you to an anthill right now!” said Catlo.

  Feroze looked about, as if hoping for some avenue of escape.

  “I’ll tell you why I am not going to do that, since you are too big of an idiot to answer me.”

  “Yes, sahib. Because you are such a kind and gracious master and value your loyal men and—” mumbled Feroze.

  “Wrong! It’s because I don’t see an anthill anywhere around here, do you?” shouted Catlo.

  Feroze smiled nervously.

  Catlo yanked Feroze up from the ground. “I don’t believe anything you said. She was no witch, you just fell asleep. But it’s too late now, she is gone. We must move.”

  “A thousand thank yous,” said Feroze.

  “If it happens again, I’ll cut your throat in your sleep. That’ll wake you.” Catlo ran his forefinger across his throat in similitude of a knife, while also flashing his toothy grin and a wink at the hapless bandit.

  Feroze grinned in return and nodded while also unconsciously moving his hand across his own throat to inspect it.

  They mounted up and began to ride farther south. Once on the trail and natural movement had caused them to separate by short distances, Aisha rode up beside Ole and asked him, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “About what?”

  “You know what. I saw you were awake.”

  “Maybe I wanted her gone too. What you did was the most sensible thing.”

  Aisha grunted. “I’m glad. I thought it was, too.”

  “But you missed something.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “She stole your dagger and almost got you with it. Here take a spare of mine,” he said, handing her a blade that was nearly a match for her own missing one.

  “What?” Aisha remembered her missing dagger when she awoke. “What did you see?”

  “I saw her try to seduce you, the same as she tried with everyone here. You fared better than most.”

  “Most?”

  “She cut two Avarans before we got you. She belly-slashed an Umoja and Feroze has a scar on his hip where she almost made him a gelding.”

  “And me?”

  Ole stifled a laugh. “When she leaned in to kiss you, her other hand slipped your dagger from your belt. I think she was as surprised as you when you rebuked her.”

  “Why didn’t she stab me then?”

  Ole rubbed at his jaw. “I think because you didn’t try and kiss her. Maybe she respected that enough to keep the knife.”

  “And you were just going to let that happen?” she asked angrily.

  He shrugged. “I knew you could handle yourself.”

  “You have a strange way of showing confidence in people.”

  He laughed.

  “Catlo was right. You are mean.”

  Ole flashed a pained look at that. “If I had shouted, then Catlo and the rest would have seen you helping her escape. I guessed that if she tried to stick you, you could catch it. I’ll not apologize for doing what I thought right.” He spurred his horse and rode on ahead.

  “Doing what is right would have meant doing what I did first!” She shot back.

  He looked over his shoulder at her and gave a half salute.

  This man intrigued Aisha. He was big and strong as a bear. Ole had confidence in her and despite all his outward roughness, he seemed to have a tender interior that cared for her. It was hard to stay upset with him. In another world and in another place maybe they could have been something. She cursed herself for the thought and gave spurs to her horse.

  By later afternoon, curious outcroppings loomed on the otherwise flat horizon.

  “What is that? It almost looks like a city.” said Feroze.

  “Cities in dust,” answered Aisha. “It is the ruins of Agarti.”

  “I have never heard of it. What is it?”

  “It means we have passed through Baten al Ghul and have reached the edge of the desert that begins the blasted Fabled Lands of the forgotten peoples.”

  “You mean like Musa and Nyo?” joked Catlo.

  The two Umoja looked resentful at that.

  “According to legend a strange people with wonderous magics and weird sciences built a great inland empire and it was their capitol city. But in their hubris they thought themselves greater than the creator gods and so were destroyed by those powers they mocked,” said Aisha, repeating the tale in a way reminiscent of how she had heard old men speak of such things.

  Catlo and the others looked shrewdly at her.

  Aisha continued, “Of course, I don’t believe a word of that. Men are perfectly capable of finding ways to destroy themselves without intervention of the gods. It might just be a romantic explanation for an awful desert that people built a city in during a season of unusual precipitation. They paid for it dearly later.”

  “Haha! I knew I liked you,” shouted Catlo. “Those were the truest words I have ever heard you speak.”

  Aisha didn’t know what to think of that compliment, but at least he didn’t seem to suspect she had freed Diamanda.

  “Do you think there will be a well here?” asked Ole.

  Aisha shook her head. “I don’t know. There must have been one at one time, but since all the people moved away and abandoned it, perhaps it went dry?”

  “We’ll look for one all the same,” said Catlo.

  The ruins of Agarti were majestic in their own way. Walls towered as high as three men in some places but crumbled to ruin only a few paces away.

  “What happened here? An earthquake?” asked Feroze.

  “Some kind of divine destruction,” answered Aisha, knowing it would only make the nervous Avaran jumpier.

  Everything in Agarti was made of thick, pale adobe. Here and there the skeletal remains of wooden beams showed beneath the adobe revealing the supporting floors and beams of the caved in roofs. Windows were cut in the walls in such a way as to reveal that beyond simply being openings, some had purpose such as to let in the light of very specific stars. Aisha knew enough about stars from her seafaring days that she knew these pointed spots of view were geared toward particularly malefic stars and could thusly guess that the astrologers of Agarti were likely an evil people and that perhaps the whispered rumors of an evil end to the city were not unfounded.

  Some standing stones arrayed
in a broken circle also revealed more of the astrological knowledge of these vanished peoples. But most of the city had fallen into rubble, and toppled piles of stone and the gusting of dust devils were the only things left living in this city of the dead.

  There were bone dry canals that ran parallel to the road, but it was obvious no water had run in them for ages and no plants of any kind grew there.

  A stone circle in the center forum of the city looked like a well, but when they approached they could see that the deep pit had naught but sand at the far bottom.

  Musa, who had been glancing about nervously, began muttering a droning chant under his breath.

  “What’s his problem?” asked Catlo.

  Nyo answered, “This is a cursed place and he chants to banish the spirits that would do us harm if they could.”

  Catlo snorted. “Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

  They rode on, though the horses started to balk at going down the direct avenue they had chosen. A strong gust of wind-borne dust came up and threatened to bowl them over. The horses cantered sideways until it subsided. When they looked up, a ragged dark figure stood some fifty paces ahead of them.

  Aisha had been sure no one was there before the wind, and there was no place such a person could have hidden and then stepped into view.

  The figure wore a long, tattered cloak and tunic of sun-bleached blue or purple, the edges of which were hung with golden tassels, but these were also frayed. It looked ancient. Perhaps the wearer had robbed a tomb? A hood and veil of matching fabric covered his head and face, only blazing eyes were faintly visible in the shadows. His right hand held an equally ancient looking staff of curious workmanship.

  “Who are you to try and surprise us out here in the wilds?” called Catlo. “Not a good way to make friends of travelers, eh?”

  A terrible rasping voice answered, “I will take the woman.”

  Catlo laughed. “You are very funny, and you know on any other occasion I would probably sell her to you, but this one, she is very precious to me and I am afraid I cannot sell her. Besides, she is very dangerous, I would be doing you a disservice.”

  “Thanks,” grumbled Aisha, thinking that on any other occasion, perhaps sooner than later, she would separate Catlo’s head from his neck.

  “I didn’t say I would buy her. I said I would take her,” corrected the rasping figure.

  Catlo who drew his sword. “And I told you she is valuable to me and I will not part with her.”

  “My hero,” said Aisha scornfully.

  Catlo glanced at her but he was unnerved by the lone figure with the wretched voice. “I said no. You best run along now before I give you some pain.”

  “I wish I could know pain,” said the figure as he drew back his veil. Aisha couldn’t see much of a face upon the skull-like countenance, but she certainly saw the teeth.

  “Lich!” cried Feroze, as he kicked heels to his horse in an attempt to flee.

  The lich held his staff up and pointed it at them then slammed it down on the dusty ground. The earth rocked. The horses reeled, the riders thrown to the ground by the incredible power and shaking confusion.

  Feroze had the worst of it as he had been trying to gain speed when the quake happened. He flew over the top of his tottering mount and landed squarely in front of the lich. He had a face full of dust caked upon the leaking blood from his lips and broken nose.

  The lich stepped toward him.

  “No, no, stay away! Get thee hence! Cybele, great goddess mother, protect me!” cried Feroze as he struggled to crawl away.

  The lich came closer and slammed his staff into Feroze’s back. The cowardly Avaran cried out in horrific pain beyond that which such a blow should have given, but as another gust of wind came up the others looked on in horror as Feroze’s body was drained of vitality. In seconds he shrank and became a dried-out husk of a former human, until he was nothing more than a sallow corpse that looked like a mummy left out in the sun for years.

  “You got an idea on how to fight that?” asked Ole, as he drew his axe.

  Aisha nodded. “We need to destroy that staff!”

  Ole nodded. “Musa, Nyo spear him!” He then ran in a circuitous route to their right as the Umoja went to the left.

  Aisha drew her sword and hurried after Ole.

  The two Umoja were greatly unnerved but held their weapons steady and advanced on the lich. When they were ten paces away they cast their spears.

  The lich held his staff up and a great blast of wind sent both the men and their missiles flying away like ineffectual tumbleweeds.

  Aisha was forty paces from them and barely stayed on her feet against the storm. Catlo was farther behind, cursing as he tried to regain his panicked horse.

  Ole charged in like a thunderbolt, his axe raised, and he slammed it against the lich’s staff. The strange item snapped. Before Ole could land a blow on the lich itself, the hooded figure slammed a skeletal hand against the big man’s breast and sent him flying away, farther than even the two Umoja.

  Aisha followed him with her gaze, not even sure Ole was still alive after such a blow. She had been dead wrong about the lich’s power being centered upon the staff.

  “Come to me woman,” rasped the lich, as it beckoned to her with its bony fingers. “Come and give me pleasure. I have not known a woman in over two hundred years. Come.”

  Horror and bile welled up in Aisha’s breast. Anger washed over her soul. No one could demand her body without a fight! “Like hell,” she muttered.

  She strode to the beckoning lich. Sword swinging by her side.

  “You will bring such incredible pleasure to Shu-Xor,” said the lich.

  “Shu-Xor, huh?” she snarled. “I’ll give you pleasure. The pleasure of a clean death for a dark spirit!” She swung her blade at the lich.

  It dodged back faster than she would have thought possible, but it did not blast her with wind like it had the others. Instead, it toyed with her like a cat and mouse, teasing out sustenance with her anger and terror. That made her even angrier.

  “Stay still and taste my steel!” she cried.

  “Shu-Xor enjoys your idea of foreplay woman,” it rasped. “Perhaps next, you will allow me—”

  Ole’s axe split the lich’s skull.

  The lich backhanded Ole, sending the Northman reeling. Then despite having a cloven skull, it wheeled back to face her. The voice echoed from somewhere in that dark cowl. “You cannot hide, my spirit eyes see you and I will taste your charms.”

  The thunder of hooves beat the ground behind her. Catlo slammed his blade into the lich’s chest. The bones broke with a sickening snap and the body toppled sideways. Bizarrely, the lich kicked a leg out. It missed Catlo himself, but it struck the ribs of his horse and brutally slammed the animal as it stove in its side. Catlo went flying end over end over the top of the horse.

  Aisha stood agape, floored that the lich partially remained upright. Its broken jaw still spoke despite laying buried in the folds of it cloak along with a multitude of broken bones.

  “This is nothing,” said Shu-Xor. “With your tender flesh, I can repair myself anew. I will sup upon you and your companions.”

  Aisha’s thoughts became fuzzy and her muscles weakened so near the lich, but she steeled herself and cleaved her sword across its hips. The bones snapped beneath the power of her blow and yet Shu-Xor struggled on, coming ever toward her. She watched in horror as the bones began to knit themselves back together. The tiny finger bones rolled into place in the hands of the necromancer and even the jaw bone clicked back in place within the folds of the cloak.

  The legs yet remained upright and stepped closer to Aisha, dragging the broken top half of its body.

  She backed up as the lich’s body followed her. She had an idea, she turned and ran. The lich picked up its pace, following close after her.

  The ruins to the left and right mocked her flight but she raced on. She heard someone shouting behind her, but she couldn’t tell
who it was. It didn’t matter, either her plan would work, or they would all be dead.

  “Flesh tires but Shu-Xor does not!” called the lich.

  Aisha reached her goal, the dry well, and turned to face the lich. Shu-Xor was almost complete once again. Only his head was still stitching back together.

  “Come and claim me in your arms, my lord,” she said in as sultry a voice as she could manage over the top of her own fear.

  That must have placated Shu-Xor, because he slowed his ominous pace and strode toward her with purpose but without the driving animosity from only a moment before.

  “You will know the bliss of oblivion in my arms,” he said.

  “Take me. I am yours.” She held her own arms wide in supplication.

  With arms outstretched it reached the clawed and bony fingers toward her. She caught its wrists and swung with all her might. It struggled to take back control of its own limbs, but in so doing, she threw him off balance and tossed him into the open well. A clawed hand caught at her and bony fingers found purchase on her sleeve. It ripped free but forced her into the pit after the falling lich.

  Ole caught her other arm.

  The lich clasped her tightly, bruising her skin and threatening to yank her arm from its socket.

  She kicked at the clacking bone-man with all her desperate strength.

  The clawed fingers cut into her skin, drawing a wretched gash.

  Aisha kicked again, and the lich fell, smashing itself against the bottom of the pit. Ole pulled her the rest of the way up.

  “Now what? Won’t it just put itself back together?” asked Catlo who had just joined them.

  “You cannot hold me!” cried Shu-Xor from the bottom of the pit.

  “Now what? How do you kill something that is already dead?”

  Aisha shook her head. “Grab a helmet or shield, anything.”

  The men looked puzzled.

  Shu-Xor shouted, “I will make you all suffer. You cannot escape me!”

  “Hurry!” Aisha insisted. The men ran to find something like she’d asked.