Tears of the Dead (24 page)

Sana cleared her throat. “Someone already acquainted me with the lagoon.”

Atamoda stifled a smile.

Sana sat quietly, considering her hands. “It is hard for a Scythian to admit we fear anything, but I fear the water...the demons.”

“The demons are gone. Aizarg has assured us of this.”

“How can he be sure?”

“Let me tell you a secret. The demons are never truly gone. They were here before the Deluge, and I suspect they will be here after this is all over. There are demons everywhere, in the sky, in the earth and within us. There are those we should fear and those we simply imagine.”

Sana lifted her head and considered Atamoda. “How do you know the difference?”

Atamoda thought of the image of Setenay’s face in the water. She paused to choose her words with care. “Fear those that separate you from what you love, and dismiss those that bind you to what you loathe. All of them feed on the same thing, fear. Take away the fear, and you unmask the demons for what they truly are.

“All my life, we Lo feared the demons that rode horses and carried bows. I feared those demons far more than those that hid under the docks and crept below the ice. Yet, here is a Scythian before me, revealed not as a demon, but a beautiful young woman.”

Atamoda patted Sana’s knee. “You have a home among us, and I hope we become good friends. I will always be in your debt.”

Sana stared at her hands resting on her thighs.

As Atamoda stood and brushed tattered bits of stalk off her dress, she spied the glint of sharp metal poking from underneath Sana’s loin cloth.

Sana caught her eye and adjusted the flap to conceal the knives.

Atamoda suddenly remembered the stories she’d heard about the ruthless Scythian women, of cold steel slicing warm necks in the dark of night.
She forced herself to remember this woman-child saved Ba-tor.

“I must go and disperse this evening’s rations. Are you coming?”

“I will stay here,” Sana replied.

“As you wish.” Atamoda turned to go, but stopped. “I am patesi-le...I have to ask you...”

“My blades are clean.” The girl said in a voice as cold and sharp as the iron between her legs.

Atamoda walked away, suddenly doubting herself and wondering if Setenay had done the right thing...

...and if Ghalen would be safe around the Scythian.

***

Sana sat alone listening to the rain, doing what she always did during the call for rations; waited until everyone else had taken their allotment. If any remained, then she would eat. Sana didn’t want to endure their stares as she stood in line, slowly shuffling from raft to raft, from one dripping canopy to the next.

Mostly, she didn’t want to see Ghalen, who the Uros had placed in charge of the food and supplies. He reminded Sana too much of her failure.

More than once she’d considered breaking her oath to her grandmother, the Lady of the Water, and take her own life. Only the fact that she no longer possessed Death, the dagger for just that purpose, kept her alive. To kill herself with another dagger doomed her for eternity.

The Scythian princess considered the reed mats scattered about her. Out of curiosity, she picked one up, admiring the handiwork. Steppe women worked in crafts of leather, skin, and fur.

She turned the mat left and right, letting it flop this way and that, studying each individual weave, amazed at their rigidity. Its toughness reminded her of cured leather. The pattern didn’t look too difficult to mimic, either.

She picked up a few a reeds and played with working them between the loose ends, starting and then undoing the pattern until it made sense.

Soon, her hands moved in rhythm with the waves, and she forgot the hunger burning in her belly and the loneliness burning in her soul.

I spent much of my time learning the Kingdom’s craft and lore. Not only did I learn to ride horses, I mastered the white metal they called ”steel”, far superior to bronze and iron in every aspect. In the armories and gymnasiums, I sparred with the Olmec war masters until steel became an extension of my essence.

Never far away, Leviathan watched me, Quexil always by his side. Perhaps Quexil most of all raised the warnings in my heart. The warrior had his fingers in all matters, his obsidian eyes seemingly everywhere, watching all. Fawning and overly deferential in his dealings with me, I recognized his sycophant’s heart. Why one as powerful as Leviathan, who ruled merely by inherent divinity, would desire one such as Quexil at his side, eluded me.

Leviathan’s will radiated over me like a dark sun. I basked in his presence, craving only to hear him call me “Brother”. Never knowing one of my own, I could not help but measure all I had accomplished against his standard. For thousands of years I lived among mortals, like one of them, yet apart. Like the great palace on the hill, Leviathan stood above and separate from his people.

Where I taught, he conquered. Where I guided, he commanded. Where I mentored, he reigned.

The Chronicle of Fu Xi

***

So long unacquainted with raw sunlight, Fu Xi’s sight remained a glittering blur. He knelt in golden sand, so hot it almost burned.

Let it burn.

Warmth trickled into his muscles. Like a tender shoot, he seemed to draw strength from the sunshine. Finally, tall grass and sparkling water crystalized in his vision. Shaking, Fu Xi stood and surveyed the land spread before him like a feast.

Low sandstone ridges, eroded by time, lay all around like lions basking in the sun. They gave way to a band of sandy dunes, which then transformed into golden grasslands rippling in the warm breeze. Beyond, crystal waters sparkled at the feet of a pale blue sky.

Distant thunder rolled behind him, where a wall of mountains held back towering thunderclouds, seemingly guarding this land from The Deluge beyond.

He staggered downhill and waded into the grass, stretching out his arms and letting the soft stalks caress him. Antelope lazily eyed him as they shambled past and continued grazing. Here and there, locusts hopped from his path. Fu Xi halfheartedly snatched at them, but they proved too quick. The thought of an insect crunching between his teeth, its juice squirting down his throat, reignited Fu Xi’s maddening hunger. Trying harder to catch a grasshopper, he began to laugh deliriously and lurched toward the shimmering water.

“Come here, you little devils, and let me pop one of you into my mouth.” But they easily eluded him, parting before the once mighty god like the grass. Unable to quench his searing hunger, Fu Xi fell face down into wet, sandy soil.

After resting several moments, he spotted a fat worm snaking toward a puddle. He pounced, pinched it between his fingers, and began to slurp it up. That’s when he came face to face with a ghoul.

Forgotten, the fat little worm dropped away. At first, Fu Xi thought the terrible visage another demonic apparition. Bulbous, bloodshot eyes blinked at him in disbelief, as if Fu Xi were the monster. Skin stretched over its skull like a drum and cracked, bleeding lips pulled back over shriveled gums barely able to retain their teeth.

Horror and sympathy filled Fu Xi’s heart for the suffering creature, obviously closer to death and in worse shape than himself. “I had a worm,” he said, patting the ground. But his prey had already burrowed into the soft loam. “It was very fat, and I would be glad to share it, but I believe it has escaped.

“I think we may be able to dig up another, maybe you can help me. If I can get my strength back, I may be able to fashion a weapon, and we can hunt antelope.”

The ghoul smiled at him. He reached out to touch his new companion, but his new friend vanished in muddy ripples. Like the last wave from an ebbing tide, a moment of lucidity washed over Fu Xi.

I will go mad before I starve.

He rolled over and stared at the sun. A flicker of grey caught his eye. Fu Xi turned his head to see snarling teeth. A wolf protruded from the tall grass only a few feet away.

***

“Let me come with you!” I followed Leviathan outside onto the grand promenade where a host of Obsidian Warriors waited, commanded by Quexil.

“Patience,” Leviathan turned, replete in the Red Armor and long crimson cape he had worn when I first encountered him. “I must sail north on urgent business. I insist that you remain here.”

“Why? Are we not brothers? Is there any task, any burden you cannot share with me?”

He leaned in and whispered where the others could not hear, “There are big brothers, and there are little brothers.”

I would have been insulted if it were not for his playful nature.

“The duties of the Empire are mine alone. I must be seen by my subjects as solitary in the administration of Imperial rule. You must be properly presented to Poseidon before you can assume the duties
of a god beyond Cin’s borders.

“Would you have me running about your lands, giving those in Cin the impression another god held imperium?”

“I understand now. How long will you be gone?”

“A month, maybe two. Autumn storms may delay me longer.” He winked. “What is a month to a god?”

To be alone again for a month, without the company of my kind, filled me with dread.

“What would you have me do in your absence?”

He laughed and grasped my shoulder, leading me to the edge of the steps overlooking the palace grounds. “Enjoy! Live like a god. No pleasure will be denied you.”

He led me down the steps. “Before I sail, I give you four gifts.”

The Chronicle of Fu Xi

***

Fu Xi became the worm squirming in the sand. This wolf wasn’t an illusion, a trick of the mind summoned by a dark god or starvation. It intended to make an easy meal of him.

With only moments left to live, Fu Xi began to laugh. “You might not like the way I taste. I don’t suppose I could talk you into helping me dig for worms?”

Looking about for danger, the wolf inched forward, jaws dripping. Fu Xi turned back to the sun, thankful to view it one more time before he passed into true eternity.

A dark blur erupted from the nearby grass. Fu Xi squeezed his eyes against the dirt and grass being thrown over him. He heard yelps and felt shaking ground before passing out.

***

Leviathan nodded to Quexil, who clapped sharply twice. Sunnah strolled from behind a hedge, leading the black and gray horses I’d learned to ride.

My beloved horses were
the first two gifts.

Leviathan then drew a crimson sword similar to his from the scabbard tied to the stallion’s flank. He offered it as if it were holy.

“This is an orichalcum blade, wielded only by the gods. You’ve seen its power; you know what it can do. When the world was young, Father Poseidon crafted one set for each of his children from dragon fire. This sword and the matching armor,” he nodded to the bundle on the stallion’s back, “belonged to my sister. I now give them to you.”

“Why?” My astonishment at the majesty of these gifts was immeasurable.

Leviathan grasped me behind the neck, his grip like steel. Foreheads touching, he held my face close to his. “Because you called me, “Brother” and asked nothing in return.” He stabbed his finger at the distant horizon. “I have ten blood brothers who would gladly remove my head for one more ounce of power. My sister tried.

“You are worthy of the Red Sword, Fu Xi…,” He embraced me and whispered in my ear, “…as long as you never betray me, Brother.”

Glory and red metal blinded me, as Leviathan forged me into a tool serving his naked ambition. My heart shouted for me to throw down the Red Sword, to dig in my heels against the unrelenting tide that was his will.

Instead, I rejoiced.

He relaxed his grip and placed the hilt in my palm, tenderly closing my hand over the silken grip. “Brothers. Two gods, born to rule.”

“Brothers,” I nodded and embraced him.

Leviathan seemed to fight for composure as he gestured to the horses.

“Practice both horsemanship and combat until my return. Together, we will make plans for an expedition next spring to complete your quest for dragons. They are sacred to my people, too. Perhaps you will let me accompany you to Nushen, where you can present me to the Goddess Nuwa.

“Afterwards, we will return to Father’s empire. On that day, we shall ride side by side into Poseidon’s Temple. On that day, my brothers will remember what it once meant to be a god.”

Quexil stepped forward and bowed. “Great Paqua, the tide will only be with us a little longer.” A name only the Obsidian Warriors were permitted to call him, Paqua meant ‘Flat Nosed God’ in the Olmec tongue.

Leviathan ignored him. “It was no accident we found each other. It could only have been destiny, set in motion by Nuwa and Poseidon themselves. The world was put here for us to take.” He grasped my forearm. “Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Did I see greatness or madness in my brother’s eyes?

On the jetty I watched Leviathan’s ship sail beyond the sea wall. His spell seemed to fade as the crimson sails vanished over the horizon. Quexil escorted me to the palace as emptiness settled in my soul.

In retrospect, I am both ashamed and unapologetic regarding my affection for Leviathan. I was one who’d never known the taste of water, and now could not live without its life giving elixir. For thousands of years I walked alone, neither true god nor mortal. I never wanted to walk alone again.

“Lord Fu Xi,” Quexil called as I climbed the stairs into the palace. “Great Paqua bid that I obey your word as if it where his, but with one exception. You are not to leave the palace grounds.”

In the days that followed, I busied myself on horseback, with swordplay, and concubines. Sometimes, I ventured out to explore, but Quexil always appeared to remind me of Leviathan’s edict, or distracted me with ‘urgent’ matters needing my immediate attention.

Eventually, wine and women kept me in the palace as the days and nights became one. Soon, the quarry, the city and my home were all but forgotten. And so it would have remained if it had not been for Amiran.

The Chronicle of Fu Xi