Shadow of the Serpent

by Shannah Jay

  Why should we give it away? An' anyway, she wouldn't leave. Her husband's grave is here on the farm. With those of our parents an' our grandparents. No, I couldn't make her leave, not so soon after Vettril's death.

  Nor I don't really want to go myself. It'd be like surrendering. I've never done that before an' I'm not going to start now.'

  Themass forked the last few earth-crusted root vegetables into his cart and straightened up. 'Come on. It's time to do something about all this. We've got to try to save those Sisters of yours. An' the little children, too.

  I don't like to think of anyone hurting little children.' He stared at Aderon for a long moment, his mouth pursed in thought, then said slowly, as if thinking aloud, 'Maybe me an' Derrall could take one or two of the children to live with us - afterwards - if we succeed. We neither of us had none of our own. I'd like the farm to pass on to someone I know, someone I can teach to love it like we do, someone who feels like family. I've been thinking about that for a while now.'

  * * *

  As the sun sank down in the sky, men started trudging into Jerhaz Waters. Young men, laughing, boasting and patting their bulging crotches. Older men, silent and watchful. Most had a woman or two trailing behind them. Some of the women were held firmly by the arm. Some were mere girls and many of these were weeping in terror. Other women moved freely behind their men, but heavy-footed, as if not eager to reach their destination. The women were dressed uniformly in drab, covering garments. The men, particularly the young men, wore brightly coloured clothes and elaborate beribboned codpieces.

  Smoke had been curling up from the street corners for some time now and the air was hazy with incense.

  The smell made Mak's breath catch in his throat, but it seemed that if you concentrated, if you really concentrated, you could keep the insidious drug from overwhelming your brain. He had never heard of a drug quite like this one. But then, he had never heard of many things that were commonplace in the Twelve Claims.

  Mak moved along awkwardly. He was dressed in a long flowing woman's kaftan, one belonging to Derrall, and he had a hood pulled well forward over his face. In front of him, Themass plodded along, not looking behind him.

  As they reached the central green, a drum started beating. Men began to gather in small groups, not talking now, just waiting, some with eyes gleaming with lust, others with resignation on their faces, and others with blank faces, as if they were holding all their feelings back. The women stood behind their menfolk, all of them with sagging shoulders and dread written in every curve of their bodies. Mak had not seen one who looked happy or even comfortable. Some of the younger girls had tears running silently down their cheeks, as if they didn’t dare make a noise or draw attention to themselves.

  There was a loud drum roll and in unison voices from the shrine cried out, 'Serpent, save your servants!

  Serpent, save your servants!'

  Nandaz strode out from the shrine, magnificent in black and silver robes. Behind him walked a young man carrying a wooden pole. The triangular pennant that fluttered from the pole was black, but the serpent embroidered on the rich material was silver, with blood-red eyes. It seemed to writhe with a life of its own, independent of the light breeze that ruffled men's hair.

  Nandaz paused in the centre of the green and waited until all eyes were upon him. 'Bring out those misbegotten whores!' he shouted suddenly, throwing his hands in the air.

  Four strong men strode across the grass and disappeared briefly into the compound. They returned almost immediately, each holding a chained Sister by the arm.

  Jandahal led them, her head erect, her dishevelment in no way impairing her dignity.

  One of the women spectators sobbed aloud.

  Nandaz held up one hand and the four men stopped moving. 'Bring forward the woman who sobbed!'

  A man hesitated, then, at a nudge from his neighbour, led his wife forward. Nandaz felled her with one blow and she screamed in pain as she fell. 'Since she is so in sympathy with these perverted witches, this woman shall suffer their fate. Let it be a lesson to you all to do your duty to our dread lord, women of Jerhaz.'

  The husband opened his mouth to protest, then shut it and stepped backwards, bowing his head as if in acquiescence. But his hands were clenched into tight fists and there was a suspicious brightness in his eyes.

  The woman was sobbing unrestrainedly now, writhing on the ground in terror and begging her husband to save her. He took a step forward again, hesitated, then a friend dragged him back. One of the Servants of the Shrine kicked the woman hard and she screamed, before curling up into a silent ball on the ground. A very low rumble of displeasure came from the spectators.

  Nandaz held up his arms and intoned, 'Beware the wrath of the Serpent!' in a deep sonorous voice.

  The mutterings of protest died down and two Servants from the shrine began to walk round the village green behind the crowd, carrying great sticks of burning incense, of a particularly pungent kind. Dirty-looking smoke wafted everywhere.

  Themass chose this moment to step forward. 'Shall you let your wife die so easily, then, Meron?' he called, his voice loud enough to carry to all.

  Jandahal's head snapped up, and the three other Sisters behind her stiffened.

  'Bring that man Themass into the inner shrine with the others. He too shall offer pain and death to our dread Serpent Lord!' roared Nandaz. 'He is a known abstainer, a deviant. We are better without such as him to shame our village.'

  As the black-clad Servants of the Shrine moved to obey, other men stepped forward and from the midst of a group of about ten, Themass spoke again. 'We have allowed this evil free rein here for too long. Today I've stopped standing aside like a coward. Either I fight Those of the Serpent and die, or I fight them and win.

  There is no middle path. I shall not be stopped, save by death.'

  Nandaz opened his mouth to roar out an order, but Themass shouted at the top of his voice, the voice of a sergeant of the lord Claimant's Guard, the voice of a man used to making himself heard above a crowd and used to leading other men, too. 'Friends and neighbours, you can join us or you can fight against us, but you cannot stand apart any longer.'

  'Kill him! Kill him now! This minute!' Nandaz's face seemed to show the evil inside him clearly for all to see, and for a moment it was as if the shadow of a small serpent writhed upon his forehead. His head writhed too, in a manner not normal to humans, and his tongue flickered in and out, in little darts of movement, to match the twisting shadow on his forehead. Even those beside him drew back in shock.

  The man whose wife had sobbed aloud, darted suddenly across to drag her to one side and when she clung to him, weeping, he called loudly, 'No more of this evil! I stand with Themass. Down with the Serpent!'

  One of the Servants, who had been standing half-concealed behind the standard bearer, drew his sword and would have killed Meron on the spot, but Jandahal stilled him. She had not the skill to still him completely, few Sisters could, but his movements became so slow that Meron and his wife managed to get away and to hide in the crowd, while other men stepped forward with weapons bared to protect them.

  The Servants of the Shrine grouped themselves around Nandaz and tried to drag the Sisters away, but men stepped forward to prevent that, and shielded by them, some of the nearby women surged forward to drag the chained Sisters to safety.

  Mak threw off the loose dark garment he was wearing and took a tight hold on the club he had concealed beneath it. He had no idea how to use such a weapon, but he was very sure that, like Themass, he was going to make a stand here. 'Fight and die, or fight and win!' he shouted, surprising himself, and the men around him took up the cry. 'Fight and die, or fight and win!'

  Then the village green erupted into violence. Men shouted, swords clashed, blood flowed. Some women screamed and cowered back, some joined in, finding sticks and lumps of rock to use as weapons.

  'Put out the incense sticks,' Jandahal told the woman nearest to her. 'The incense is dru
gged. Fetch buckets of water and douse the sticks quickly. Don't leave them to smoke afterwards.'

  Some of the women ran to obey.

  Themass began to wield his sword at the head of a wedge of men, the ones he’d taken into his confidence before the bloody festivities began, the ones who had some idea how to fight. Other groups formed themselves into similar fighting patterns behind him, but their progress was slower.

  A lucky blow from an opponent made Themass stagger for a moment and sent blood coursing down his face from his torn scalp, but Jandahal and her Sisters pressed close together and linked their forces to heal him, even though they weren’t able to touch him.

  Themass laughed aloud as he felt his skin knit together and the blood stop flowing. 'Can your Serpent do that?' he roared at the nearest dark-clad figure.

  'My Dread Lord can do more!' The man swung his sword furiously, but fell before Themass's expert blade.

  Across the green, one of the Sisters was weeping at the pain and loss of life, but this violence couldn’t be avoided. It was a necessary catharsis against the evil of the Serpent.

  The village women coaxed the Sisters inside the blacksmith's forge, sundered the chains with his great hammer, and brought the injured there for the Sisters to tend. They didn’t say that they brought only their own menfolk, that they left the devoted followers of the Serpent lying where they fell. And the Sisters never thought to ask.

  It soon became clear that Those of the Serpent were outnumbered by those who’d chosen to make a stand against their cruel ways. And as the smoke from the incense sticks faded away, even the men who’d been supporting the Servants began to hesitate and look puzzled. For the first time in years, there was no incense burning in the village, no faint drifts of smoke perfuming the air.

  When the surviving Servants and their supporters would have taken refuge in the shrine, it was a group of grim-faced women who barred their way. They were led by Derrall, who’d come to the gathering by another route with a group of close friends already warned of what was to happen. These women were carrying pitchforks and spades, clubs and even kitchen implements, anything they could use to defend themselves.

  They too were chanting, 'Fight and die, or fight and win! Fight and die, or fight and win!' a catchphrase that had spread behind Themass like fire in dry grass.

  One of the Servants uncoiled the multi-thonged whip he carried in his belt and lashed out at the nearest women. Twin slashes appeared across Derrall's cheek, but she didn’t shrink back. A large stone, thrown from the rear of the group, hit the Servant on the temple and another stone, following quickly behind the first, knocked the whip from his hand. As he bent to pick it up, the women rolled a cart across the doorway of the shrine, and then began to advance on the group of serpent followers, still chanting, still brandishing their makeshift weapons.

  Those of the Serpent held fast for a few moments longer, but other women were joining in and missiles were raining down upon the black-clad group. They began to back across the village green, joining forces with those supporters still left upright. On some of their foreheads the serpent shadow flickered. Such men were not hit by stones and people fell back before them, feeling a strange lethargy that prevented them from striking out.

  The battle waged for more than two hours, but by the time the third moon started to rise, the village was silent, and the small group of surviving serpent worshippers were at bay in the same compound in which they’d imprisoned the Sisters and children.

  'You can't kill them in cold blood,' Jandahal said to Themass, as he stood watching his followers round up the last black-clad survivors. 'You must not. If you do, you'll imperil your own souls.'

  'We can't leave them loose to start up the trouble again, illustrious Sister. And if we drive them out of the village, they'll soon be back with reinforcements from the nearest town.'

  But still Jandahal shook her head. 'We cannot kill them,' she said. 'Not now that they're defeated. If we do, we'll be following their dark path.'

  'On my head be the killing, then, Sister,' said Themass. He signalled to some of his friends and started forward.

  Nandaz confronted him. 'If you take our blood, it shall strengthen the Serpent's power,' he said, eyes gleaming with a light that owed little to the three moons shining down upon them. On his forehead the shadow was now black, and it writhed with a sullen life, for all that his side had been defeated. 'And I shall be happy to die for my dread lord. Serpent, aid your servants! Serpent, aid your servants!'

  Themass paused, scowling at the group who had tended the inner shrine. Not one of them had been killed.

  These men were too dangerous to leave free to wreak more mischief. A thoughtful look appeared on his face.

  Suddenly he laughed aloud, and as he did so the shadow on Nandaz's forehead grew paler.

  'Have you thought of something?' Meron asked eagerly.

  Themass nodded. 'The wine caves. We can put them in the wine caves, then wall up the opening.'

  'That will still be to kill them,' said Jandahal. 'I will not allow it.'

  Themass shook his head, a grim smile curving his lips. 'No, illustrious Sister, not if we leave a hole in the wall we build and push food through it every day. I know a cave so deep they could never dig their way out, so deep their evil would be kept at bay. And the cave has its own spring, too, and a deep crevice for their ordure.' He turned to Nandaz. 'You shall do no more evil in this village. You shall be very safely stowed until better times come.'

  'No!' Nandaz screamed the word suddenly, his body convulsing as if in a fit. 'No!' He turned to his fellows, shuddering and gasping as he forced the words out. 'Kill yourselves now! Don’t let them take us. Let us die for our dread Serpent Lord. Thus shall we add power to his cause.' On the word, he took out a dagger and plunged it into his own chest, dying with his god's name on his lips and wild joy in his eyes. For a moment, the shadow on his forehead grew darker before fading completely.

  Three of the other men immediately followed suit, before Themass could prevent them.

  Jandahal gasped and swayed on her feet. 'Stop them!' she whispered before she slid to the ground in a faint.

  But not all the members of the group were so eager to give their lives. One man botched his stroke and lay there with blood pouring from a wound, moaning and begging the Sisters he would have killed for help.

  Another threw away his dagger and held his hands wide of his body. 'I yield.'

  Within the hour, the remaining followers of the Serpent had been searched for weapons and their arms bound. Themass it was who led the way to the caves used for storage, with his men dragging the prisoners behind them. Themass it was who stood guard by the cave entrance for the rest of the following day, as rocks and stones were brought to fill the opening that led into the deep cave, as mortar was mixed to bind the stones together. When Themass could no longer keep his eyes open, another man took his place but Themass moved only to lie down nearby and take a short nap. He refused point-blank to end his vigil until the task was done. 'I must be sure,' he kept saying. 'We must all be sure.'

  The wall was built two paces deep, leaving a hole through which food would be passed. This was quite narrow, like a pipe a handspan wide. It was too narrow for even the smallest child to creep through.

  All the time this was happening, the men inside the cavern were mostly silent. Every now and then they roused from their lethargy to pray loudly to their god to save them. And when they prayed the darkness that surrounded them at the back of the cave seemed to the men building the wall to grow deeper and the efforts of the builders slowed down.

  It was Mak who noticed this and brought the Sisters down to the cave. Next time the chanting and praying started, they stilled the men inside the cave, then one of them kept watch as the men from the village mounded the rocks into an impenetrable wall.

  'Those poor souls are beyond help,' Jandahal said to Mak as they watched the villagers carry in baskets of stones for the wall. 'Only when their god dies s
hall they become human again. I fear they’ll die in that cave if that doesn't happen soon.'

  'Then they must die.'

  When the wall was completed, Themass nodded in approval and let his tiredness take over. 'We must keep careful watch here until the mortar has hardened, then we’ll pass fresh food through to them twice a day.

  We’ll check the security of the wall only when we bring the food. We shan't need to mount guards. No one could rescue those men without making a noise, and even then it’d take days to pull that wall down.'

  'But,' said Jandahal, 'when Those of the Serpent are finally defeated, you must promise me to pull down the wall and release them.'

  Themass nodded. 'I promise. If any are still alive.' Then he turned on his heel and led the way out, leaving the curses of those imprisoned by the rock to echo their lonely way around the inner caves. Themass added quietly, 'But I hope the filthy devils have all died by then.'

  Meron nodded approval. His wife still trembled at every sound, still couldn’t believe their village was free of the Serpent taint. He felt riddled with guilt. How could he have let her be hurt like that? The Sisters said it was the drugged incense that weakened men's will, but Themass hadn’t been affected by it.

  The Village Elders invited Jandahal to stay in the village and lead them back to Sisterhood ways. They were far enough away from the larger towns to do this. Who could stop a whole village from living as it chose? The children could be fostered out among the local families. It was the way things had been done in the old days, when new land was first settled.

  The Sisters agreed to stay. People were feeling hopeful again now. If they returned to the old ways, perhaps they could win their Brother the God's grace again.

  CHAPTER 5 MIST AND RAIN

  Davred groaned and tried to move his head away from the moisture that was splattering against his face and trickling into his mouth. Consciousness was returning now, but it took him a moment or two to realise the wetness was rain beating down on his whole body, cold slanting rain that stabbed painfully at the bare skin of his face and hands, and soaked into his sodden, chilled clothing.