The strange presence seemed to pause for a moment, a deep-throated laugh emanating from it. The weaklings always run, but you shall not.
Faluri struggled against the breeze, which was no longer gentle. The ground began to quake. Shaking, she fell to her knees, pressing her forehead to the ground in supplication. “G-great Hungali. Please—”
Yes, my dear? The breeze surrounded her now, pummeling her from all sides. Gentle hands picked her up, clutching her in a grip that was suddenly as strong as iron. I am here with you. I am taking you to my home, for my loneliness grows daily.
Faluri whimpered, and she suddenly realized that her mother had spoken the truth. She tried to scream, to make even the smallest outcry, but Hungali’s hold prevented speech. She felt the breeze move at a lightning pace, traversing miles in seconds. She was being carried she knew not where.
Faluri’s head swam in confusion. As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, she realized that she stood upon a walkway of stone. Two jutting walls were on either side of her, and her head spun as she realized she stood at a dizzying height. Coldness bit into her. She saw two snow-capped mountain peaks beyond the walls, their white faces staring impassively at her predicament. More mountains watched from across the chasm. The breeze had lessened in intensity.
Welcome, sweet one. Hungali’s voice emerged from her right, but Faluri could see no one. She dared to turn her head and immediately regretted her mistake.
A chasm loomed at the edge of the walkway, so vast as to be unbelievable. The sheer drop yawned up at her like a gaping mouth. Pinpricks of light danced before Faluri’s eyes as she strained to catch a glimpse of the bottom, but it was clear that this chasm was bottomless. The ground itself moved here, seeming to breathe of its own accord. Faluri’s knees buckled as her heart plummeted in fear.
It’s frightening, I know. Hungali’s tones were caressing, his voice dripping with a musical cadence as sweet as syrup. I was frightened as well. Yet I cast myself from his land of obligation and ingratitude. I embraced my own destiny.
Faluri trembled, her mouth growing dry. “Y-you are no longer who you were, no longer a brilliant man.”
Precisely, clever girl. I am a god. Yet godhood is rather trying at times. The loneliness is overwhelming.
“My father and mother. You killed them, didn’t you?” Tears sprang to her eyes, but she tried to hold them back. She did not want this creature to see her weep.
Why do you mortals always cry? It is demeaning and accomplishes nothing. Contempt laced his voice. Then, he resumed his gentle tones. Killing is such a harsh term. I did nothing. It was their fault. They refused to listen to my warning. I told them to give you to me, yet they refused to do so.
Faluri thought of her mother’s final days of illness. “You’re a monster.”
The air from the chasm swelled in a roaring torrent, and the ground quaked violently. Faluri trembled, quickly stammering, “I-I am sorry. What do you want from me?”
I told you! I want you for my own. All you need do is come to me. Just cast yourself into my embrace.
Faluri stepped backward, her eyes growing round with horror. “Never!”
Then I shall wreak havoc on the land. My wrath will know no bounds, for I will make the Pacmana nation and the nobles suffer beyond anything they have ever dreamed.
“Faluri!” A voice, an honest, human voice, burst upon her. It came from her left. Faluri sighed in relief. She knew that voice. Turning, she saw Randolf’s strong arm beckoning to her from behind the jutting stone wall. “Grab onto me.”
Faluri stared at her surroundings. His hand was far enough away that she dared not reach toward it. One false step, and she would hurtle into Hungali’s arms.
As if to confirm her suspicion, the ground quaked yet again, a derisive laugh filling the air. You fool! You think a mere mortal’s handclasp will save you?
“What are you frightened of, Hungali? That the prophecies are true? ‘Adopted girl from the Pacmana race will call forth the King’s wondrous grace.’ ” Randolf’s voice soared above the laughter.
I destroyed those prophecies long ago.
“The prophecies will never die.” Randolf continued to proffer his hand. He addressed Faluri. “Ariadne found me. She said you’d been taken. I was desperate to find you, and a breeze picked me up. I found myself here. Please let me help you. I was so angry that day the bullies were tormenting you. I thought of how I would have reacted if Naolia had been in that situation. You’re a sister to me, just as she is.”
Faluri knew that a decision had to be made. Trembling, she turned from the chasm, reaching out her hand toward Randolf.
Instantly, the chasm roiled, a clattering sound as of pounding hoofbeats emerging from its depths. Faluri dared one look back and saw a coal-black steed. Fire spewed from the steed’s mouth as it thundered from the chasm and onto the walkway. The animal was not solid, but was formed out of darkness itself. The air that comprised Hungali’s being had transformed into this massive beast. It charged at Faluri, stones from the walkway hurtling into the void below.
Faluri closed her eyes, desperately groping for Randolf’s hand. Warm fingers closed over her own, and she was lifted into the air with a tremendous jerk and deposited onto a snow-covered hill. A tremendous shattering sound assaulted her ears, and she opened her eyes in time to see the walkway begin to break apart.
The horse stood in midair and lunged at Randolf, who stood directly in front of Faluri, shielding her from the oncoming attack. Faluri saw the steed’s massive body collide with Randolf. Transforming back into the swirling air, Hungali shoved Randolf toward the gaping chasm.
Faluri screamed as her brother plummeted into the chasm. The air that comprised Hungali’s being pressed down hard, suffocating him. She saw the walkway shake violently, and stones broke away from its surface, hurtling into the chasm’s depths. The stones struck Randolf again and again as they fell.
“No! No!”
As she screamed, Hungali’s crazed laughter and the thundering tattoo of his heartbeat pounded out a drunken swell of triumph.
Faluri lunged toward the shaking walkway, desperate to somehow rescue Randolf, but something pushed her back, a breeze that smelled of cinnamon, cloves and other strange spices. She felt herself being lifted, and blackness engulfed her. As she sank into sleep, she heard Hungali’s angry vow: You’ll return to me even if I have to kill everyone else, pretty one. I’ll make them give you up!
Two Months Later
Faluri heard the groans and cries before she reached the fields. The clash of whips brought bile to her throat. She had worked in these fields so often with her mother. Now, she paused before the vast stretch of swaying canama plants. Women struggled under heavy baskets, which were strapped to their backs. They crawled along the ground, gathering stalks of canama. Young girls stood in a colossal pit, their hands and feet moving in a rhythmic dance as they used mallets to crush canama stalks into coarse granules of sugar. Men struggled to unload heavy crates of the freshly prepared sugar into colossal chests.
Above this activity loomed five burly men, each of them wearing crimson robes. They held whips in their hands as they marched through the fields. Faluri gasped as a young girl paused in the rhythm of the dance, slumping forward and crying with exertion. The mallet fell from her trembling hand, and she bent to retrieve it.
SWISH! SWISH! One of the overseers paused beside the pit, his whip crashing upon the little girl’s shoulders. Faluri bolted toward the pit. She lunged at the overseer, attempting to snatch the whip.
“Stay back, beast!” The overseer shoved Faluri backward, delivering a vicious blow to her stomach. She gasped and struggled to reach the pit, to cradle the young girl and bring her comfort.
“Wait.” One of the other overseers approached at the sound of the commotion. He scrutinized Faluri closely, grabbing one of her hands. “Soft as goat cheese,” he murmured. “You don’t belong here, despite your obvious Pacmana status. A house slave, eh?” He leered at
her. “What brings you here?”
Faluri shuddered, longing to back away from his scrutiny. Yet she also realized that he had given her a golden opportunity, and she must make the most of it. “Lord Locmana sent me here to retrieve another girl for the kitchens.”
The overseer frowned. “Do you take me for a fool? His Lordship has been ill for a week. He can’t even rise from his bed. Why are you really here?”
“I’m telling you the truth. Some dignitaries are coming for a banquet tomorrow, and we’re short-staffed.”
The overseer leant closer to her, his leer more pronounced than ever. “Wench thinks she can pull one over on me, does she?” he chortled. “I’ll just put you to work till I can verify your story.”
Faluri stared. “Y-you’ll pay for your mistreatment of me.”
The overseer laughed. “Lord Locmana couldn’t care less what happens to you swine.” He shoved her toward the pit.
As she fell into the gaping hole, the deep thrumming of the earth immediately pulled at her, forcing her to rise and move in tandem with its rhythm. She struggled with all her might to resist, but the pulsating heartbeat brutally pummeled her.
“You must obey him,” a little girl whispered. “If you don’t, you’ll be beaten.”
Faluri gasped and turned to the familiar voice. With a strangled cry, she reached out a hand to the petite, auburn-haired girl, the only one whose ears were not pointed. “Naolia,” she whispered. “It’s me.”
“The herald read the proclamation to us,” Naolia whispered. Both girls were continuing to crush the stalks, a task that should have been relatively easy. Yet the mallets were so heavy, and the pulsating ground made the girl’s legs throb with fatigue. “We have to be in the market square at noon tomorrow.”
“I know. I came to tell you that you have to escape.”
“But I can’t. Father and Mother—”
“You must! Don’t you understand? I am the reason you’re here in the fields. I’m the reason Randolf is gone.”
Faluri shuddered as another spasm of memories struck her, and she sank into their insistent clutches.
The breeze had deposited her at the servants’ entrance of Lord Locmana’s grand mansion. She had been found by a scullery maid and had been appointed as a serving maid herself. She refused to tell anyone where she was from.
The plague had begun the next day, and twenty noblemen had died. Then, Lord Locmana had been stricken with the mysterious illness himself, and hysteria had grown to a fever pitch. The lord had decreed that a Pacmana maiden must be sacrificed to appease Hungali’s wrath and had said that the casting of lots would determine the maiden to be chosen.
Now, as Faluri relived these memories, it suddenly came to her that the casting of lots was merely a clever ruse. She had always been the object of Hungali’s desire, and he was determined to have her. She thought of Randolf. He had sacrificed himself so that she might live. Should she not do the same for his sister?
Hungali had been as good as his word, for the unexplained illnesses of so many noble young men had caused outright panic. Blame had naturally fallen on the Pacmana race. Only Faluri’s adopted family had taken a stand, for though they did not know where Faluri was, they extolled the Pacmana race as equals to the nobles. Thus, they were punished by being forced to become slaves.
Faluri stared at her adopted sister for a long moment. Then, she whispered to herself, “He knew I’d give myself up to protect you, to honor Randolf’s memory.” There was no need to wait for the drawing of lots. She would do what she had to do tonight.
“Sweeties. Lovely sweeties!” An old man’s voice rang through the relentless pounding of the mallets and groans of the slaves. Faluri stared as she beheld a stooped form hobbling through the crowd of slaves. The overseers flocked to the man, snatching sweets from a basket that he balanced upon his hip.
“Easy!” he cried. “Plenty for all!”
“All? These beasts don’t get anything.” One of the overseers guffawed, his mouth so crammed with canama sugar that his words were garbled. Syrup dribbled down his chin.
“Beasts, eh?” The man chortled, grinning cheekily. “Appears to be only you yourself. Beast in the decidedly singular. Where’s my coin? These treats aren’t free, you know.”
“Watch your tongue, you old fool! We’ve never paid in the past, have we?” The overseer yanked the basket from the old man’s hand, dividing the remaining goodies among himself and the others. “Be off with you.”
Calmly, the man raised his hands, snatching the basket back. The wicker container now bulged with a vast profusion of treats, and he staggered under its weight. The overseers gaped at his retreating form as he circulated among the slaves, giving each one a cone of canama sugar. “From King Elumi’s own fields. Not ill-gotten by slave labor but freely grown for all.”
As the man made his rounds, he stopped beside the pit, gently patting each girl on the shoulder as he handed them the treats. “Only one day more,” he murmured. “Then your slavery will cease.”
As he spoke these words, his eyes locked onto Faluri, who gasped in shock. “You are more than you think, courageous girl,” the sweet-seller murmured. “Hungali wanted you to surrender to his embrace. Now, he will surrender to you.”
He withdrew a cloth bag and a belt the translucent color of honey from the folds of his brown tunic. Thrusting these items into Faluri’s hands, he enfolded her in a strong embrace. His touch brought a surge of comfort and strength, and the scents of cinnamon, cloves, and other spices clung to him. Faluri suddenly knew from whence the breeze that had carried her to the mansion had originated. Then the man vanished.
Faluri blinked in wonder at the bag. Trembling, she opened it and stared in disappointment. A lump of canama sugar, a skein of scarlet yarn, and a strangely scented leaf were the only objects it contained. Faluri withdrew the leaf, gaping at its strange beauty. The leaf was scallop-edged and shone with a mesmerizing brilliance. Faluri returned the leaf to the bag, her mind reeling with confusion. She prepared to journey to her doom.
The canama fields were eerily silent after night fell. Faluri stood alone, her hands trembling. Around her waist was the golden belt, and attached to it was the small cloth bag. She felt the thrumming of Hungali’s heartbeat and knew what she had to do. Stepping to the edge of the canama pit, she prepared to enter it yet again.
A thunderous pounding of hoofbeats tore through the silence, and Faluri shrank back, fully expecting the ghostly black steed to rise from the pit’s depths. Yet the sound came from behind her.
Trembling, she turned around and came face-to-face with a towering steed. The horse’s coat was dazzlingly white, and a scarlet mane flowed down its neck. The horse neighed and reared onto its hind legs, and she realized that it was wild. Yet even in its wildness, it stood before her, its glittering golden eyes scrutinizing her closely.
Faluri reached into the bag at her waist and withdrew the lump of canama sugar, a sugar more refined than any grown in these fields. She proffered the sweet, and the horse bent forward, its mouth nuzzling her fingers as it took it from her hand. The majestic animal nickered softly and knelt upon the ground. Light poured from its shimmering mane, and Faluri caught the distinct scent of cinnamon, cloves, and other strange spices.
“Y-you will allow me to ride upon your back?” Her heart pounded in fear, but her eyes were filled with tears of wonder. “I must journey to the mountains.”
The horse inclined its head. Faluri grasped its mane and clambered upon its back. Instantly, the horse rose and began to gallop, its hooves thundering across the fields. The steed’s movements were so graceful, and Faluri’s hair flew behind her in a gentle breeze. The horse’s movements grew even faster, and they were suddenly airborne. Faluri gasped, clinging to the mane with an iron grip.
Soon, Faluri felt familiar biting cold, and she felt a tremendous jolt as the horse landed upon a stone walkway. To her right yawned the immense chasm, and everything was as she remembered from that harrowi
ng day. The only difference was that now there was no one to lend her a helping hand. Even as she thought this, the steed vanished, and the ground began to quake.
Ah! I knew you would return. Hungali’s rumbling voice rang with jubilant triumph. Your weak heart could not bear that others die. You’re so pathetic!
Faluri swallowed, staring as the breeze began to intensify. “Y-you want me to come to you. Why? You love no one but yourself.”
Have you any inkling of how hard I’ve worked to establish my kingdom? The prophecy will not be fulfilled. Once I have dealt with you, then I will be safe. My reign will be firmly established. That interfering mortal sought to save you, and I dealt with him. No one can liberate you from my hands.
Faluri felt the tears course down her cheeks, and she thought of Randolf’s intervention. “My brother is strong, far stronger than you’ll ever be.”
There was a long silence. Then, Hungali spoke again. What do you wear around your waist? His voice was strangely different, the voice of a curious child.
Faluri trembled, clutching the bag in her sweat-soaked hand.
Come now. Let me see.
Faluri held the bag toward the gaping chasm, keeping the contents hidden from sight. “I’ll show you if you’ll consent to remove the illness from the land.”
Hungali laughed. You presume to bargain with me?
“This bag contains great weapons from King Elumi’s own land. Would you not desire to possess them yourself?”
The air from the chasm roared in anger, jerking Faluri’s tunic as it pummeled her extended hand. Give it to me!
“I must have your word first.”
Very well, shrewd creature. I will remove the plague, but you will not leave here alive. I’ll have you and the weapons as well. Now give me the bag.
Faluri opened her hand, reaching toward the roiling breeze. Instantly, iron fingers snatched the bag away, tearing it open to expose the contents.
Blind Beauty and Other Tales of Redemption Page 8