Ole was more reserved than he had been, and she had to believe that he did feel the way he had acted, but she was hurt. The rare times she had offered herself to a man, she had never been refused. It was not something she would let happen again.
The river was red-brown and so full of silt, that less than an inch deep you could not see anything. It made it impossible to tell what was below the surface or how deep it was save for the poles the men would dip in to push the craft along. Several times they saw crocodiles sunning themselves on the banks and once they saw hippopotamuses, but these were, thankfully, also sunning themselves on the far side of the river and paid the travelers no mind.
Musa and Nyo were especially nervous upon sighting the big creatures, but the other men were ambivalent.
“Those look like big water pigs and you say they are dangerous? Ha!” proclaimed Catlo. “You’re just superstitious cowards.”
Musa and Nyo looked at each other, shaking their heads that indeed the animals were dangerous.
“Many men have been slain by them, many times,” said Aisha. “They are very territorial.”
Ole and Catlo looked on, their faces full of doubt.
Aisha shrugged. “If you doubt me, go over there and slay one of them. I should like to see that.”
Catlo looked at her shrewdly. “I would, but we don’t have time. I want to make it to the mountain and be sure that no Kathulians sneak up on us, just because I am proving your lies false.”
Aisha rolled her eyes but said nothing more. Some folk cannot be helped and cannot learn.
As twilight bruised the skies, they decided they should make camp for the night. They chose a big sandbar in the middle of the river so nothing could come at them from either shore and they did not believe any animals would likely approach them if they stayed on the raft.
The horses were tethered together and munched on the grasses that grew upon the apex of the tiny island.
The river was still wide here, though not quite so much as where they had begun the trek. Hills were closer to the shore here, too, and small caverns dotted the slopes.
“Care to do your magics and tell me if the Kathulians are close by?” Catlo asked Musa.
He shook his head. “I do not think they are close by. I smell no pale men but Ole and you. But I do fear that others could be close.”
“Others? Who?”
“Tikoloshe,” he answered.
“Who is that?”
“Cannibalistic little people,” answered Aisha. “Legends.”
“Legends or truth?” Catlo spat. “We don’t need to go and get frightened over a simple handmaid’s tales. Those are ridiculous fantasies that could never happen.”
“I don’t think a handmaid’s tale could happen, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t other dangers. I think there is evidence for the Tikoloshe,” Aisha argued.
“Bah!” Catlo waved his hand down in feigned exasperation. “We’ll keep watch, but this nonsense is only upsetting the Umoja.”
The two Umoja brothers did looked unnerved, but each also tried to seem brave and courageous, gripping their spears tight like old men holding their canes.
“Tikoloshe. What a bunch of nonsense.”
A peculiar splashing sound out in the river gave him pause though.
“Still, we better have someone on watch all night,” he said, before laying down near the mast.
Ole and Aisha looked at each other. “First,” they each said.
“I won,” Aisha said. “You get some sleep.”
“I’m not gonna sleep yet,” the Northman said.
“Well, you better try, because it’s going to be your turn at midnight regardless.”
He grunted and went and lay on the corner of the raft nearest the edge of the sandbar.
Catlo already had his hat over his face, but said, “Ole. I’m trusting that you aren’t going to let any midget cannibals eat me tonight.”
“You can count on me,” he answered, as he lay down on his worn bearskin.
Aisha still could not understand their relationship. What on earth could have made such a magnificent man as Ole choose to serve such a selfish, egotistical bully as Catlo? Maybe she didn’t want to hear the answer. It would be difficult to be as good as what her imagination told her.
She heard the peculiar splash again. She glanced at Ole. He was still awake and lying down, his hand clasped upon the haft of his axe.
Something moved in the dark waters. The ripples lapped up against the shore of their little island.
Sploosh. This time it came from only ten feet behind her. She wheeled, the ripples, were even closer this time.
“Ole,” she whispered. “You better get up. It’s your turn for watch.”
He was beside her in an instant. They scanned the dark river.
Sploosh, right in front of them. It was a peculiar looking fish about two feet long. It came to the surface and caught insects, then it was gone again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize it,” she said.
“It’s all right. We’ll probably be hearing it all night,” said Ole.
The clouds covered the moon and it was a particularly dark night. The fish remained, but there were no other incidents for the rest of Aisha’s watch. She had Ole take over a few hours later and she believed he had not slept in all that time.
False dawn crested the horizon with a faint blue on black. Aisha only awoke because her hand touched warm water. A slurping sound unnerved her, even in her half-wakened state.
Her eyes slowly cracked open. Something was hunched atop a lump near her. Her hand should not be wet, she wasn’t near the water. Was Catlo messing with her?
The topmost bulb shape in the dark turned a little and she saw that it had two yellow eyes. A very slight growl emanated from it.
Her hand found her dagger.
The thing moved swiftly toward her.
Aisha slashed out with the dagger; the blade touched flesh as a wretched squawk lurched from the dying thing’s throat. She dived out of her bedroll in an instant and saw a dozen of the things near her. They covered the raft. The size of babies, the creatures had glaring yellow eyes and a mouthful of gleaming white teeth.
They flung themselves at her, attacking her calves and chattering in a bizarre clicking tongue. She swung her blade furiously at the diminutive attackers. Whenever her sword connected, the small bodies flew away cut in twain, but still more clawed and bit at her.
One took a large bite out of her right calf and she crumpled to the deck. Another leapt atop her chest and she saw that while they looked humanoid in shape, they were in no way human, but resembled skinny monkeys, but with very large eyes, sharp teeth and claws.
She kicked away at another, sending it flying into the river. She was screaming, but there was no answer from the others. Where were they? Had they succumbed to these things’ silent attack?
Something pulled at her hair while another clawed at her arm. She punched and kicked and rolled, crushing one beneath her. Small bodies shot away in the dark as she regained her feet. They had scattered to the shadows. Tiny pairs of eyes watched evilly from behind corners or behind the larger men’s bodies. Vanishing anytime she took a step closer.
Anxious to rid the raft of these devilish beings, she cast about, swinging her sword and snarling like a caged animal.
One leapt at her head. It must have climbed the mast. She skewered it in midair and flung the body into the river.
A man moaned feebly, and she saw that it was Ole. He was breathing but had terrible bite marks near his throat. Blood soaked his bedding, that was the warm water she had felt, the leaking blood from these vampiric beings.
“Wake up Ole!” she cried, but he did little more than roll over as if having a terrible dream.
A pair of the Tikoloshe charged at her and she swept her blade at them, but it was a ruse, three attacked her from behind raking their talons at her exposed back and calves. Another tried to bite her.
Whi
rling her sword, she cleaved a pair of them and chased after, gutting a third, all the while screaming her furious rage. A fourth tried to flee out across the sandbar. It screeched in terror as it wobbled with its curious bandy legs. She chased after and caught up to it quicker than she had anticipated. The Tikoloshe dodged erratically, and Aisha stomped its abdomen crushing the vile bloodsucker under foot. A belly full of gore that must have been her companions’ own, pooled about the dreadful creature.
That seemed to be the last of them. She ached but hunted for them until dawn came and she was ready to collapse. None of the others moved or woke. All of them had been bitten and had their blood drained.
Nyo had lost too much blood and lay dead where he’d been sleeping. She had resented his part in driving her into joining with Catlo’s treasure hunt, but it was a bad way to go and she felt pity for the young man.
Feeling safer now that the sun was well up, she jumped in the river and washed the blood from her body and cleaned her wounds, then the wounds of the others.
The others began stirring around noon. Catlo blinked at the height of the noonday sun and asked sleepily, “Aisha, why didn’t you wake me for breakfast?”
14. Never Say the Name of the Dead
They were forced to wait and camp on that sandbar for another two days until everyone’s strength returned enough for them to continue. Thankfully that was the only night they heard from the Tikoloshe creatures.
They buried Nyo under an altar of river stones and Musa wept a single tear for his brother.
“He will have trouble finding the afterlife, since the Tikoloshe stole his soul along with his blood,” lamented Musa.
They all remained quiet, not knowing what to say, until Aisha replied, “No, I stole it back by crushing the fiend. His blood is mingled here with the sandbar and the river. His soul is ready to return safe and sound.”
Musa looked at her crossly at first but then he glanced at the deep maroon pool in the sand from where she had killed the creature, then he smiled. “You are right. You have given him the ability to find his soul and journey safely there. You are now my Blood-Sister.”
Catlo scowled and kept any words of anger over this to himself.
Food rations were running perilously low and they took to fishing in the river. The jumping fish they had seen earlier were not tasty, but they were easy enough to catch.
The morning of the third day, they all felt well enough to continue. The scaly fish they’d been catching, and eating had grown old quick. They hoped to get farther inland where they might kill a gazelle or deer for meat. That and the constant thought of the wealth from the Dragons’ Graveyard burned inside their brains coiling about like a slow fire. That half of Aisha’s concern remained the idea of revenge upon a one-eyed dragon, though she kept that to herself. She had no idea how she would slay one, nor if the one she sought might even be alive and within Jokameno Mountain, but the thought would not leave her mind. She prayed to the gods of her forebearers that she could enact revenge for her stolen and murdered father and be granted peace at last.
Up the river they went, Ole taking the place of the fallen Nyo with Aisha manning the small sail. Eventually the harsh winds from the south grew too strong and fierce in the wrong direction and they were forced to take down the paltry thing. Still, the men worked the poles, dragging the raft ever upriver.
They camped upon a stony bank sheltered with a high cliff wall behind them. Driftwood dotted the shore, so they chanced a fire to warm themselves and to roast the fish.
“Tell me something more of what you know about Jokameno Mountain,” said Catlo.
“I think you know as much as I,” said Aisha.
“Perhaps so, perhaps not. Maybe I tell you what I know, and we can compare notes then, huh?”
“All right,” she said, hopeful that the conversation might die away as the night wore on.
Catlo made himself comfortable against his saddle. “For centuries men have said that when dragons know they are reaching their end, they fly far to the south to the biggest mountain in all the world. Jokameno. It means Dragon Teeth.”
“Is that so?” Aisha asked. She knew it was true, but she wanted to fish and see if she could catch Catlo in a tale that he was repeating correctly but unknowledgeable in.
“It is, it is. Musa and Nyo—”
“No!” cried Musa, pointing his spear at Catlo’s chest. “You must not speak the name of the dead. It may recall them to our world, and we do not need my brother haunting us!”
Aisha flinched at the sudden outburst and violent reaction of the Umoja. Ole, cloaked in shadow, had his axe in hand, ready to throw.
Catlo raised his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I don’t want your brother haunting us either.”
Musa nodded and sat back down, a fierce glare on his face.
Catlo waited a moment then continued. “Anyway. Men have known this for centuries. Some expeditions in the ancient of days would go south, up the river just like we are now. They even saw the great beasts flying into the volcano itself. What’s more, they saw dragons flying back out, so while we can surmise that some go there to die, some may be born there too!”
Aisha turned the fish on the skewer and cut a fillet off the big scaly thing. “Go on.”
“Well, I don’t need to tell you that men hunted for a way to get in. They crossed that mountain many times over, but the walls are too high, too sheer for anyone to get up them. No one could get in, but,” he paused, “there is a way in. The way in was known to the tribe of Umoja from ancient times. They took dragon scales and teeth and made weapons of war with them. They traded them occasionally but usually kept the best parts for themselves. It made them stronger than all the other tribes of lower Valchiki. But in time they got greedy and their gods commanded them to seal up the way. To keep it closed and off limits to all men who would take advantage of such incredible wealth.”
Aisha yawned.
Catlo grinned. “They made it so only the wisest shaman of the tribe could visit and gather the scales for weapons and armor. This greatly reduced how much they had and made the price of such things very high. Soon, only the greatest of chiefs and warriors could have them. Then as time went on, they became more and more rare. You saw what happened to the king of secrets you slew. He went mad, left the lands of the tribe completely. But there is still a secret door into the mountain. A door that we can find and get rich from. Why don’t you tell me the secret the last shaman king told you now and we can all know and get inside? You know, just in case something should happen to you, we, your friends could still get the wealth.”
“You’re not my friends and as soon as I tell you where and how to open the secret door, I would get a knife in my back.”
Catlo looked offended, his eyes narrowed, and his lips pursed and pouted, and he tried to swiftly cover that emotional exposure. “No, we are friends. Haven’t we been through so much together? Thick and thin. We are nearly blood kin now.”
Aisha scoffed. “Oh, you didn’t know that about the secret door, did you,” she said. “Not only is there a trick to finding the door, there is a secret to opening it. You had better be extra careful that nothing does happen to me on the way there, just like I have been with you.”
“Yes, well,” Catlo began, “I am grateful that you slew those Tikoloshe that were sucking my blood. We all are grateful.” He raised his last wine bottle in her honor, though he did not offer to share the last swallow with her.
She had to laugh to herself. She had been so horrified by the Tikoloshe and so intent on killing them that she later cursed herself for not letting them finish their blood draw on Catlo himself. If she had, maybe she could relax more on this journey. Damn! Why did Ole have to have a blood debt with the dog? What would it take to be rid of it?
“What do you think Ole, old friend?” asked Catlo.
Ole rubbed at his jaw. “I want to see this mountain and see if it is the biggest in the world as you
say. I have seen those in the north that are so mighty they slay the clouds, so until then—” He shrugged.
“You might be wondering how I knew all of this even before I went and found the Umoja brothers and their mother.”
“Not really,” answered Aisha.
“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. Ten years ago, when I was just a pup starting out in this business,” he began.
Aisha snorted at the term of “business.”
“I was at a tavern in Jepra. A blind man came in. I bought him a drink out of the goodness of my heart and the pity I felt for him.”
“Why are you beginning your story with such a blatant lie?” Aisha asked.
“Because it’s a good story! Anyway, I bought him a drink and he told me his story, that goes as follows. When he was young, he worked as a caravan master, hauling supplies all up and down the spice road. He, perchance, once found himself in a sandstorm on the edge of the desert, not too far from here in fact. He almost died but was taken in by the Umoja and healed by them. He was almost as dark as they were—like you—and they took a shine to him. He was apprenticed by the old Shaman himself, you know who I mean. And he spent years with them. He was trained to become the next shaman once the old man died. He loved being with them and he gave up on all his family and relations back in the civilized world. He forgot all about his lost caravan business and he forgot wealth and prestige that he had so longed for back in the real world. He wanted to just be a simple tribesman again and live like a loin-clothed savage. Can you believe that? He was even shown the secret door to the mountain. But you know what?”
“What?” asked Aisha sarcastically as she leaned forward.
“I’m going to tell you anyway, because I love this story,” said Catlo. “He was taken inside the mountain and saw the dragons’ graveyard and he was so overwhelmed with the wealth of what he saw inside, he lost all reason, all the greed he knew from the civilized world, all the things he had sworn to give up came tumbling back, and he swore then and there to take those riches however he could and get back to the world where he could then live like a king.”
Sowing Dragon Teeth Page 14
