War of Men

by Rhett C. Bruno

  Muskigo clutched Yuri by the collar and pulled him close. “What you speak is blasphemy.”

  “Muskigo, friend, his time has come, just as ours has. I’ve seen enough signs to know that.”

  “Then you’re a fool,” Muskigo said, shoving Yuri away. He sat again on a spool of rope. “The sea delivered him. I have disagreed with him much in my life, but the tides change. Now that he has seen the wickedness of greedy Glassmen, he will see reason also.”

  “Or perhaps he returned only so we could see how frail he is. How mortal he is.”

  Muskigo punched the wood beneath him. “To even speak such things invites the waves to crush us. A Caleef is not chosen by mortals. That is not our way.”

  “Our ways doom us, Muskigo. The Sirens came to your daughter. You said it yourself: sandstorms follow her. In the battle, I, myself, pulled her from the sea. A lesser woman might have drowned, but she didn’t. The Nothhelm line has been corrupted by a heartless witch with no place in our castle; by a man who saw Iam only between the legs of a woman. But your daughter…”

  “Will not be married off like some common whore!”

  Muskigo didn’t realize he'd sprung to his feet and had Yuri in both hands again until Mahraveh approached.

  “Is everything all right, Father?” She gripped her spear tight, ready to strike. Bit’rudam waited in her shadow, no doubt prepared to do the same.

  Muskigo swallowed. “Everything is fine. I was just telling our friend here that his service to me is complete. The Caleef has been returned. Yuri Darkings has earned the thanks of the greater afhemdom, and now, he can go home.”

  “Good,” Mahraveh said. “We’ll be at Latiapur shortly. From there, he can find passage to anywhere in Pantego.”

  Yuri’s gaze darted between them, then he bowed his head. “As you all command.” On his way by, he whispered in Muskigo’s ear, “She made me believe in something greater than humanity. Don’t hold her back like all the other men.”

  Muskigo held his tongue and tried not to stare. Instead, he gestured to the seat beside him and waved for Mahi to join him. All these warriors, guarding and respecting her, but the moment he gestured, she sat. She turned to him with doe eyes, expecting answers as any child would.

  “No longer my little sand mouse, are you?” he said.

  The corners of her lips rose slightly. “I suppose not.”

  “Ah, well, these things never do last forever. I am proud of you, for whatever that is worth from a washed-up rebel.”

  “Bravest man I know,” Mahi said.

  “If only these others saw things through your eyes, yes?”

  Mahi nodded. “The Caleef still won’t say a word,” she said, changing the subject. “Is he always this quiet?”

  “I’ve only met him a handful of times,” Muskigo replied. “He never was one for many words, but he said what needed to be said.”

  “Father, the way he looks.”

  “I know. I’ve always had doubts about him, but the God of Sand and Sea made his decision long ago, and the Current obeyed. We have to trust in it. He has returned for a reason.”

  “But if we bring him to Latiapur and he sides with Babrak?” Mahi asked.

  “How could he?” Bit’rudam chimed in.

  Muskigo shot a glare at the young man. “This is a conversation between afhems,” he said, terse.

  Bit’rudam returned the glare, then looked to Mahi. She nodded, and purple-faced, he strode a few paces away.

  “He means well,” Mahraveh whispered. “They grow up different on the islands.”

  “He’s loyal. That’s good.” Muskigo said. “But all must know their place.”

  A brief period of silence passed between them, and Muskigo hoped he’d find answers in it. Something to say to the girl who he’d left behind. But instead, he only heard wood creak as they pierced the waves.

  “Father—” she said, but they both spoke at the same time.

  “I heard about Jumaat.” Muskigo took her wrist. “I’m sorry for his fate.”

  Her head sank. “So am I. He was meant to fight on the sands. Sometimes I wonder if he’d have won, if he’d died for no reason.”

  “He wouldn’t have. You fought in his stead for a reason, and I know the boy would have gladly given his life for you. He would have made you his wife without a second thought.”

  “Like you’d ever let him.” Mahi smirked. “He wanted to fight, Father. For me. For you. He was braver than you knew.”

  “I’m sure he was.” Muskigo reached out farther and laid his hand over Mahi’s heart. “Now he is in here, fighting with you. In the current of your blood. He, Shavi, your mother… all who have come before.”

  “I know he is.”

  “Then don’t worry about Babrak,” Muskigo said with finality. “The sea erodes slowly, but it is just. His holiness was delivered to your followers, not his. There is a reason for that. We will make the Black Sands see that we aren’t so weak as we were.” He regarded Yuri who stood peering out over the starboard rail. “And they aren’t so strong.”

  “The other afhems will see you and recall their courage.”

  “Perhaps,” Muskigo said, though he didn’t believe the words himself.

  Mahraveh stood to walk away. Muskigo didn’t allow her to get far. He rose and embraced her, pulling her head against his chest, feeling each breath. Then he held her at arm’s length and marveled at the sight of her in her new form. The scars on her face, her tattoos, her adult figure. She would eat the boy-king of Glass alive.

  “You have grown so much,” he said.

  Mahraveh squirmed free. “You’ve said that enough.”

  “And yet still, I stand in awe of you.”

  “Latiapur!” a voice rang out from atop the mast. All at once, the head of every person on board snapped toward the city coming into view through fog. Mahi ran to the railing and hopped up. The Caleef’s grand palace, the Boiling Keep, rose like the tip of a spear from the Golden Bluffs. Ships filled the water beneath it, some setting sail to meet them as they neared the capital.

  The holy man they transported home would change everything. And as Muskigo stared at his daughter, he hoped it would be for the better.

  XXIII

  The Daughter

  As the built-up cliffs of Latiapur came into view, it all felt like a dream. Mahi knew she’d return one day, but she didn’t expect it to be like this. She’d driven the Glass army out of Nahanab, saved her father, and found the Caleef. It didn’t matter that she hadn't intended upon the last part. Strange events seemed to follow her life of late. Sandstorms, Sirens… the mortal body chosen by the God of Sand and Sea to carry his presence on Pantego rolling onto shore wasn’t any crazier.

  Corsair ships manned by the Serpent Guard, the defenders of Latiapur which pledged allegiance to no afhem, sailed at their side, navigating them through the perilous waters which made Latiapur nearly impossible to conquer from the sea. The palace docks were carved into a fold in the sharp bluffs. Lifts affixed to cranks, which would carry them up into the city alongside fishing nets and other supplies, awaited them within.

  Mahi had no idea how her people’s ancestors placed aside their warring ways long enough to construct such an impressive city. To the north, the cliffs tapered to form the rear wall of Tal’du Dromesh, where she’d earned her title. It was strange, now, to see its seats empty.

  Straight to port side, jagged rocks rose from beneath the massive, domed palace which extended out over the Boiling Waters. A statue of a Siren the size of a small mountain was carved into the rocks beneath it, depicted as holding the palace up. Her two arms outstretched to the rock ceiling above, and her form extended down until she was lost in a field of sharp rocks just below the Sea Door in Caleef’s throne room.

  There, waves met, causing an endless whirlpool. Mahi couldn’t imagine how many thousands had perished in those waters, either executed and murdered like Farhan had been, or having leaped through in faith, hoping the Current would carry
them to shore alive as it had the Caleef currently aboard their ship and so many before him.

  “I don’t know how anybody does it,” she said to Bit’rudam, staring at the raging waters beneath the palace.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Throw themselves down there.” If Caleef Sidar Rakun never showed up, the choosing of a new Caleef would begin. One by one, men would volunteer to be tossed into the depths until the God of Sand and Sea saw fit to find his new voice. Sidar was only sixteen when it had happened to him. Far from a warrior. And he wasn't the son of some afhem, just markless traders from Rakun, a small village to the northeast.

  “Faith,” Bit’rudam said, not a shred of doubt in his tone.

  “A fight to the death seems far simpler.”

  “Yet, nothing about our world is simple,” he said. “It stands to reason that the God who governs it wouldn’t be either.”

  “Would you do it?” she asked. “When Sidar Rakun’s body passes on.”

  “Will you get me killed by then, my Afhem?” he asked, grinning mischievously.

  Mahi felt herself smiling back, then stopped. “I can’t make any promises.”

  “Well, if I am alive, I suppose it depends on if I have what I want by then.”

  “And what is that?” Mahi turned to face him. His hair whipped in the wind, and the low-dusk night colored the black stubble on his chin in a way that made her notice it for once. He was a man. One who’d already saved her life more than once.

  “I suppose I’ll know when the time comes. I mean, maybe I’ll be an afhem, myself,, or have many wives and children that depend on me. Who’s to know?”

  “Who would take you?” Mahi said. They laughed, and as they leaned against the rail, Mahi noticed their fingers touch. At the same time, she saw her father watching from behind and swiftly slid her hand away.

  “I never thought about that happening with an afhem,” Mahi said.

  “What do you mean?” Bit’rudam asked. He was acting like he hadn’t noticed her pull away. She hoped he hadn’t.

  “Can an afhem not leap in faith?”

  Bit’rudam shrugged. “I’ve never heard of one who had.”

  “Anyone can try,” Muskigo said. Mahi hadn’t noticed him move around beside them. “But to earn the markings of an afhemate is to bear responsibility for your people. It is a calling. For any afhem to sacrifice their duty to become Caleef… well… I wouldn’t trust such a man to guide us, and I suspect the Current wouldn’t either. Warriors like us aren’t built for sitting around and letting others spill the blood.”

  “Is that why you betrayed him?” Bit’rudam asked.

  Muskigo calmly took steps toward the Bit’rudam. Mahi chewed on her cheek. Her father glowered down at the young warrior. He still favored one leg after being injured in his fight with Babrak, but he painted an intimidating picture none the less.

  “I betrayed no one, boy” Muskigo growled. “I did what I had to when nobody else would. Your afhemate included.”

  “I meant no offense,” Bit’rudam said, his voice breaking slightly. “Afhem Awn’al, my last afhem, and my father, they were angry when you left… I… I only wish to understand…”

  Bit’rudam had been resistant to the legend of Mahi’s father ever since they’d rescued him, combatant, even. His unwavering loyalty to this point amused her, but he’d yet to be so close to Muskigo. Now, he seemed as afraid as she knew he should be.

  “All you need to understand is that I’m still alive,” Muskigo said. “I believed that God was with me, that he ignored death’s call. And I believe it now, as the Current has carried my fearsome daughter to me when I had come so near to forgetting what matters most: our people.”

  “I understand.” Bit’rudam went to say something else, tripped on his words, then nodded slowly and backed away, his cheeks turning to a darker shade of gray.

  “Be nice, Father,” Mahi said. She chuckled as she watched Bit’rudam begin to order around a member of the crew, then her throat went dry at the memory of how afraid Jumaat used to be of her father.

  “Focus, Mahraveh,” he said. “We are here. Many afhems are here, the traitor Babrak amongst them. Your friend is right about one thing: I acted against foreigners without the support of the Caleef. I have paid dearly for it. But, perhaps now that he has personally seen the ways of the Glass, he’ll agree with what I did. We won’t know until he speaks.”

  “Well, I’m with you, Father.”

  “I know my little sand mouse—I mean, Afhem Mahraveh. First, we break Babrak’s influence. Then, we deal with the fate of our people. If that means I must face judgment, so be it.”

  Those words silenced her. For so long, all Mahi had been focused on was saving her father, then her hatred for Sir Nikserof, and Babrak and the people he’d sided with. She hadn’t even yet considered that her father had broken their laws by defying the Caleef, that he could face the very Sea Door they were approaching.

  She didn’t have long to think about it before the shadow of the Latiapur cliffs covered them in chilly darkness. They were led into a tall cavern, glowing green from the mob of nigh’jels following beneath their ship, drawn to the Caleef. Mahi could hear the chatter on the docks surrounding them, wondering why the creatures did so. They purposefully hadn’t sent word that the Caleef had returned ahead of them. Anything to keep Babrak in the dark.

  When they docked, and the Caleef emerged from his cabin, the silence made her skin crawl. Presently, he was painted black with the blood of the nigh’jels again. Only, it was obvious something was wrong. Mahi had heard stories about how it matted onto the Caleefs, inseparable from their own flesh. It was sloppy now. Applied in chunks in some places, and very clearly missing hard to reach areas like behind the ears.

  It did, however, cover the myriad cuts and bruises that left her wondering why they worshipped him in the first place.

  “The Boiling Keep awaits,” Muskigo said as he limped by, following the Caleef at a safe distance.

  The Caleef’s Serpent Guards helped him onto the docks first, where dozens of dockhands were already on their knees kowtowing upon seeing him. It didn’t matter their afhemate, or even if they were markless—everyone bowed.

  A massive, blackwood lift carried them up through a gap in the rocks, cranking so loudly Mahi could barely think. At the top, it felt like the entire city had heard news of the Caleef’s return. Hundreds amassed at the palace stairs, all bowing on every side of them. Drums pounded in celebration, but to Mahi, the beat sounded ominous.

  Even in Tal’du Dromesh, Mahi had never seen a show of such adoration for someone. Robed eunuchs and sages flocked down from the palace. Servant-women as well, offering Sidar Rakun every manner of delicacy on satin pillows. Bellot fruits from Layyil Island, wine from Westvale, brandy from Brekliodad. The Caleef accepted none of it and continued in silence.

  Eventually, they entered the domed palace, into the field of columns surrounding the throne room which mirrored the seventy-nine islands of the Boiling Waters. Nigh’jel lanterns hung from each one, glowing bright. Mahi’s gaze darted from side to side. More servants than she ever knew inhabited the palace popped up around them, and more Serpent Guards, too. The fearsome, masked warriors encircled him, as wordless as he was, trained from birth to protect their Caleef and care for nothing else.

  Many of the afhems had chosen to stay at their homes in Latiapur during this trying time, and every one of them arrived through the open entrance of the hall. Mahi recognized some of them from the arena. Mostly, those who'd been seated with Babrak in his suite, flattering him while his wives fed him. No matter who they were, or from where, they all shared one thing in common. All of them eyed Muskigo with scorn as he entered.

  Mahi’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of it. She’d accomplished the impossible while they all turned their backs, while they all sucked up to Babrak—the one they perceived to be the greatest power of the Black Sands rather than seeking that power for themselves like the afhems of
old.

  Filth and braggarts, all of them.

  She noticed her father sneering at them as they passed into the throne room. Bit’rudam and her other followers stopped before they passed the Sea Door. They didn’t even need to be asked.

  “Good luck, my Afhem,” Bit’rudam said softly. He straightened his arms at his side and bowed low at the waist.

  Muskigo stuck his arm out in front of Yuri to bar his entry. “Not you.”

  “I arranged the Caleef’s freedom,” Yuri replied. “And my son is nowhere to be found. He probably died to get him to the bay.”

  “Does that mean you'll eat your coin purse?” Muskigo asked.

  Yuri sneered.

  “Our laws are not mine,” Muskigo added.

  “My help is no longer needed,” Yuri continued to argue. “I’ve come for my thanks and my reward, and then I’ll be gone. Surely, your Caleef will not deny his savior? Besides, I expect that the riches you promised me are no longer available, considering the… condition of your home.”

  Lines of tension filled Muskigo’s neck. Mahi took his arm in hopes of calming him. “It’s fine, Father,” she said. “He’s entered before, and he’s right, he deserves our thanks before he leaves, at the very least.”

  Muskigo grunted, then nodded him along.

  “As usual, our lady proves the wisest of you all,” Yuri said, bowing to her.

  “I just cannot wait to no longer have to see your pink face,” she said.

  Muskigo laid down his blade, and everyone else followed his lead. All but the Serpent Guards who lined up along the gilded walls.

  The Caleef was led to his coral and gold throne. Looming behind him were larger than life depictions of zhulong and sand snakes. Across the room, wind and waves sounded through the hole in the floor which plunged down into the Boiling Waters, lost behind the veil of night.

  The Caleef never sat. He stared blankly at his throne, still wordless even as Afhems passed by, fell into bows, and praised the God of Sand and Sea for his safe return.