by Chris Bunch
The storm broke, and the rain roared, but in our huts it was almost comfortable, if you ignored the fleas, the reek of ancient manure, and the smell of bodies too long unwashed — none of which concern themselves to an experienced campaigner.
We were not like turtles, tucked blindly into our shell; the men on watch outside moved in pairs, never keeping the same route as they patrolled around the tiny hill. I checked hourly, and was pleased they remained very alert, although I was unsurprised. We were too deep in enemy territory and there were too few of us to relax.
Tenedos was on the other side of the low fire, listening to Jajce talk about what had happened, trying to winnow through the old man’s memories for information that might aid us when we came on Chamisso Fergana. I leaned back on my bedroll, listening idly. Palikao sat not two feet away from me. I noted, to my considerable surprise, that she smelled quite good, unlike the rest of us unwashed heathens, and wondered what scent she wore. She suddenly turned her attention away from Jajce.
“I cannot listen anymore,” she said softly. “It hurts too much to think of Obeh. All that is gone.”
Her shoulders sagged, and I wished I could comfort her.
“I suppose for someone like you, it might not have appeared much,” she said. “But I was happy. I was betrothed, and my husband-to-be and I had just begun our trial conjugality. Then, one day, a week before Chamisso Fergana’s savages came and destroyed Obeh, he announced he had determined to become a soldier, and, in spite of my tears, left me, promising he would return in two months, with great wealth.
“I cared nothing for that. I just wanted him.”
She looked directly at me, her gaze not shy.
“He should not have left,” and her voice lowered, “just when it was so … wonderful.”
My loins stirred.
“It is hard,” she went on, “trying to sleep in the cold, in the wet.” Her hand stretched out, brushed mine, and her finger ran down the wool facing of my bedroll. “Your sleeping robes look very warm.”
She smiled, and stretched, and somehow her robe became slightly disarranged, and I saw smooth, bare leg, and a momentary flash of darkness above her inner thigh.
Her flesh was clean, and on her ankle she wore a gold circlet.
Lust took me and shook me, and I almost could have taken her then, but forced myself to be calm, to wait until the fires were banked and we would settle down to sleep. Yonge and Karjan were already snoring. Then would come pleasures such as I’d never seen.
I looked at Tenedos, and saw his eyes start wide. I came back to myself a little, and looked at what he was staring at.
Jajce’s small pack sat between him and Tenedos. It had fallen on its side, its flap open.
Coiled inside was a long silk cord, gleaming yellow in the dying firelight.
Tovieti!
Shit! The spell broke, my cock shriveling as if it had never wanted Palikao’s false wet warmth, and the foolishness, brought on by their magic, that had allowed us to permit strangers, no matter how innocent looking, to come into our midst, was gone. I looked at Palikao, to see if she’d sensed the change, but she was staring dreamily at the fire. Her bare foot crept out and caressed my booted ankle.
Hells! I wondered if they’d already struck in the other huts, and if my men were now sprawled in death, my mission ruined before it could even be launched. The spell we’d been ensnared in was complete — my sword belt lay all the way across the hut, and Tenedos’s lay beside it.
The seer saw I’d noted the cord. I saw his brow furrow in thought, then his hand slip to his side, and pick up one of the long leather thongs used to bundle his sleeping robes. He then looked pointedly at me: Do something!
I suddenly sat bolt upright, coughing uncontrollably. Both Jajce and Palikao pretended concern, and Damastes used my diversion to reach across and, in a flash, touch the leather to the silk strangling cord. His lips moved, and he ran the leather through his fingers, coiling it to and fro.
My coughing spasm eased, and I reached for a canteen, to continue the charade, when Palikao spoke, very calmly:
“They know who we are.”
Her hand dove into her robe, and emerged with that deadly cord. I threw myself on her, trying to pinion her hands, and it was as if I was in the ring, wrestling the strongest opponent I’d known. Palikao had greater strength than any man I’d ever fought, including professional strong men at local fairs, and she easily broke her wrists from my hold, down to my chest, and pushed, and I went spinning away, through the firepit, embers flying, to sprawl on the other side.
She was on her feet, cord in her hands, a look of savage glee on her face, coming toward me, and now I heard shouts of surprise and horror from the other huts. Jajce was standing, his own cord ready, when Tenedos began to chant:
“Hear me
Hear me
You are one
We are the same thread
We serve one master
We have one master
There is one master.
Hear me
Tum, Tum
Obey me
Bind, bind
Bind and hold
You must obey
You must obey
Bind, bind,
Bind and hold.”
The yellow cord in Palikao’s hands writhed, came alive, as if it were a snake, and twisted its way around her wrists, twisting, turning, knotting, holding, and she struggled vainly, and then fell. Jajce’s own cord was tying him, and again I heard shouts from outside, but these were from women and children as Tenedos’s magic turned their craft against them.
Palikao tried to get up, her strength now no more than it should have been, but I was up and across the hut, reaching for my blade, then it was out, and I had its point at her throat. “I’ve not yet killed a woman,” I said. “But there is a first for everything.”
She stared up the long steel at me, saw truth in my eyes, and ceased struggling. I wondered if she would have killed me before or after we made the beast with two backs, but had no time for rumination.
“Karjan!” and my Lancer was beside me, his own weapon out. I looked about the hut. All of the Tovieti were safely bound by their own cords. I darted out, into the night, and checked my men.
By the grace of Panoan and Isa, none of my men were injured. They’d all fallen deeply asleep, and woke to chaos. Evidently the deaths of Tenedos and myself were to mark the beginning of a general slaughter. I told them what had happened, and who these “innocents” actually were, and ordered them into full fighting readiness. The team outside, on guard, had seen and heard nothing until the shouting started. I put a second pair out to back them up, and returned to Tenedos.
Karjan had pulled the Tovieti into a line along one wall. Their feet were now tied with conventional rope. Their eyes blazed helpless anger.
“Now what do we do?” I asked Tenedos.
“Kill the shit-heels, rip their gods-damned guts out slowly,” Yonge snapped, still shaking from the terror.
I waited. Tenedos thought carefully on the matter.
“No,” he finally decided.
Palikao laughed mockingly.
“Do not mistake me,” the seer said. “I have no objection to your death. Know that, woman.” He stared at her, and she nodded reluctantly. Tenedos took me aside.
“I think,” he said, “no, I know for sure that my magic is sufficient to bind them for at least two days. Also, I don’t think any of them are magicians themselves. What sorcery they used to fool us is vested in those cords, or perhaps they have been given an amulet to use. I didn’t sense their spells because all my awareness is reaching out toward that cavern, waiting for Irshad’s magics to search for us.
“I said we wouldn’t kill them because we want our men ready for battle — not shaking from having murdered babes and women, no matter how bloody-handed they might be.”
I agreed, and, quite frankly, was and am not sure I could have given the orders for such a slaughter.
&n
bsp; Tenedos turned his attention back to Jajce.
“I propose to let you live, because the god I serve is stronger, as is my magic.
“But I am new to this land. What is your god?”
“We serve no gods,” Jajce said. “Gods, from the vanished Umar to the lowliest piss-souled hearth godlet, are all part of the Wheel, the Wheel we are going to shatter for a New Way.”
“Break by killing all?”
“Break by killing all who do not join us,” Jajce said flatly. “Kill them, then when they return from the Wheel, kill them as babes in arms, kill them in their wombs until the Wheel collapses from the weight of all the souls it carries. My own group has killed over a thousand, sometimes pretending to be woeful refugees, sometimes occupying an abandoned village and telling travelers we are its residents.”
“All men, even gods, serve someone,” Tenedos said. “Whom do you obey?”
“Our leaders,” Jajce said, looking uncomfortable.
“Thak,” Palikao whispered.
“Silence, woman!” the old man snapped.
“Who is Thak?”
Palikao pressed her lips together, said nothing.
“Thak, eh?” Tenedos said. “Is he human or otherwise?”
Once more, no reply, and I knew we would get none.
“One question you might answer,” Tenedos said. “I understand you are permitted to keep whatever you loot from your victims, correct? And that if you kill enough, you Tovieti will live in the palaces of the rich, and so on and so forth. Correct?”
Jajce nodded. “That is the truth.”
“What laws will you live under in that golden time?”
“We shall need no laws,” Jajce said firmly. “Just men behave justly.”
Tenedos lifted an eyebrow, bent, and picked up one of the strangling cords.
“I see.”
An hour later we rode off into the night. “You s’pose,” Bikaner said quietly, “they’ll work their way out of th’ ropes ‘fore they starve?”
“I would imagine,” Tenedos said.
“More’s th’ sorrow,” Karjan said. “They ne’er would’ve given us mercy.”
We rode on in silence.
Before dawn, we chanced leaving the road for a nest of rocks, and chanced an hour’s sleep, watch-on, watch-off.
At first light, we moved on once more.
It rained steadily all that day. The track was deserted.
The villages we passed were either ruined or shut tight against the elements. We saw no man or woman all that drear day as the road climbed into the hills.
Through the rain and the mist hanging like curtains, we dimly saw a great mountain, black, wet, and evil.
“There,” Seer Tenedos said, “there is the mountain I ‘saw.’ In it is the Tovieti’s cavern.”
TEN
THE CAVERN OF THAK
The mountain, about three miles away, looked like a god-child had built it of sand, and then haphazardly carved away with a spoon. The nearer side would be the easiest to climb, although its slope was steep enough, which meant it would be the most heavily guarded. I could see, even through the rain, where a trail had been cut out. The trail led about two-thirds of the way up, where the entire mountainside had a nearly symmetrical scoop out of it.
“There,” Tenedos pointed. “There is where we’ll find the entrance to the cavern.”
The face farther from us was far more precipitous, almost a cliff.
I saw no sign of life, either on the mountain or the approaches.
Not far away from where we sat was a draw. We left the trail, and rode up the narrow canyon about half a mile, until it widened into a cleft. There was enough of an overhang to give some shelter.
I ordered the men to dismount, and assemble. From here, we’d move on foot. For the first time, I explained exactly what our mission was. I watched the men’s faces closely. Even as tired, dirty, cold, and wet as they were, I saw no signs of discouragement or fear. My warrants and I had chosen our men well. When I finished, I asked for questions.
“How’ll we gie up t’ th’ mouth of th’ cave?” one man asked. “Creepin up th’ trail?”
“No,” I said. “We’ll go up the cliff.”
A couple of the men groaned.
“Remember,” I said, realizing I sounded a bit like one of my more pompous tactical instructors, “the easy way’s always ambushed.”
Troop Guide Bikaner gave me a look of mild approval.
We assembled our gear into backpacks and, leaving four men to watch the horses, started for the mountain. The land was desolate, with never a tree to be seen, but only the stark brush. In the dry season, it would have been desert, but now it was a sandy, sticky mire.
It was dusk when we reached its base — our timing was perfect. I looked for a dry place to rest, where we’d eat and wait until full dark, but the entire world dripped dankly. We found some thick bushes I imagined to be a bit less sodden than the rest and crawled under.
I remember the meal I ate, wondering if it might be my last: dried beef that had been shredded and mixed with berries and rendered fat, which was extraordinarily nutritious, but as easy on the stomach as digesting a rock; cold herbal tea we’d brewed back in the village the night before; and soggy flat-bread dipped into a fruit jam. I admit, though, I felt better afterward.
I decided it was dark enough, and we set out. I put the hillmen in the fore of the column, since they’d have the best feel for the terrain; then the fat infantry sergeant Vien, myself, Tenedos, the rest of the party, and the rear was brought up by Legate Baner and Troop Guide Bikaner — with this small a party, I must have someone I had absolute confidence in for my rearguard.
We climbed for almost an hour, the grade growing steeper, but still no worse than a hill-scramble. Then the way grew more difficult, and I signaled a halt and ordered the men to rope up — we’d brought twenty-five-foot-long ropes with us. They were fine — no more than a quarter-inch in diameter — but had been given a strengthening spell by Tenedos before we left Sayana. We pulled off our sheepskin jackets and tied them to our packs.
The way was wet and slippery, but fortunately the boulders were small enough to move around, and those we had to climb over were cracked and split, giving us sufficient handholds.
I tried to keep an idea of where we were in my head — there was nothing to be seen but darkness against darkness and the black rock all around. The going grew worse, and we had to traverse left again and again to find a passable route. We were being forced closer and closer to the face with the trail, but there was little I could do to change things. At least the rain had lessened, which was a mixed favor. We could move more easily, but the likelihood of us being seen or heard was greater.
Fingersnaps came down the line, and we froze. A whisper came: “Officer up.”
I untied and laboriously crept over five men, to the front of the column. Sergeant Yonge was on point. When I reached him, I didn’t need any whisper to see what the problem was. I cursed silently. Just above us was mortared stone. We had been moving too far left — the road to the cave’s entrance was just above us. We’d have to go back and shift right to a new route. I decided to slip up onto the trail, and see if I saw any sign of the Tovieti.
I was about to lever myself over the parapet when a noise came. I don’t know just how to describe it, but it was a low swishing, or perhaps hissing. I ducked back, and became one of the stones around me.
Something came up the path, something enormous. The sound took about ten seconds to go past, then there was nothing but the night and the rain. I forced myself to peer over the parapet, saw nothing, and pulled myself up onto the parapet and over onto the cobbled pathway. I slipped and almost fell, going to my knees. The slickness was not from the rain, but from a horrible slime that whatever had just passed left in its trail. My stomach curled, and I decided there was no valor in continuing this reconnaissance. Now I knew what that hissing had suggested — it was the sound my mind thought an enormou
s slug might make as it moved past. I do not know in fact what it was, though, nor do I wish to.
Laboriously we reversed our course, and went back to our right. Eventually we found another way that seemed to go. The closer we climbed to the cave’s entrance, the harder it rained. At last we’d climbed to the same level I thought the cavern to be on, and once more we traversed left. Again we came on the mortared stone, and I peered over it. The path came to an end here, on a level, parapeted terrace, a balcony with the cave mouth behind it. I saw no sign of guardians, human or otherwise. I ducked back, out of sight.
We’d made good progress — it was still two hours before dawn, I guessed. We would wait for at least an hour. Climbing had raised a sweat, and we’d paid no attention to the wet and the chill. We put our jackets back on, but clinging to the near-vertical rocks, the cold seeped through into our bones within minutes, and I was hard-pressed to keep my teeth from chattering.
Over the howling of the wind, I thought I could hear chanting, or perhaps only shouts, from the cavern. I tried to forget about my misery, and go through, again and again, just what Tenedos had told me he’d “seen” in his brief seconds inside the cavern.
The sounds from the cavern stopped, and there was nothing but the storm. I heard another sound: boot heels that I hoped were human, clattering on the cobbles above us.
Sentries. There were two of them. Once again, we became lumps of sandy stone. But there was little real danger. I doubted the guards would bother peering over the edge — there was nothing at all to see, and they must be near the end of their watch. I’d never really entertained the hope that the entrance to the cave would be wholly unguarded.
Very slowly, as slowly as anything I’ve known, the sky changed from black to the darkest of grays. Now I heard more footsteps above, and the clatter of armor and weapons. Voices came — a challenge, a response, inaudible words, then some laughter and the sound of the relieved watch marching away.
It might have been better to take care of the other sentries, knowing how cold and tired they would be, and hence easy targets. But when their relief showed, they would have cried the alarm. I listened for another space, and was somewhat impressed. These sentries did march their complete rounds, rather than huddle against the weather. Nor were they talking and telling stories. I listened to them pass, then return, counting the interval. I would rather have done that half a dozen times, to ensure I had the exact time, but the sky was growing lighter all the time.