Black Halo (Aeons Gate 2)

by Sam Sykes

  ‘Whatever,’ Kataria grunted. ‘It’s all moot since I’m pretty sure he’s not going to wake up in this lifetime.’

  He glanced up towards the throne at the end of the hut, overpolished to a lumpy, greasy sheen. Squatting in its seat, as he had done for the past half hour, the past four conversations and the past two conversations that included discussions of itches in strange places, Togu sat, impassive, unmoving and possibly dead.

  He was likely very impressive under the brown cloak, Lenk thought, if bottle-shaped and narrow-necked counted as kingly features in Owauku society. He blinked, considering; that seemed to fit the kind of persona that would be cultivated by a race of heavy-smoking, bug-eyed, bipedal reptiles who ate, raised and wore bugs.

  But electing a corpse seemed a bit too eccentric even for them.

  He was giving heavy consideration to the idea, though, considering King Togu didn’t even appear to be breathing, much less moving, at the moment.

  Probably a concern.

  ‘Why worry about it?’

  Why worry about the fact that we’ve been waiting half an hour to talk to a dead lizard?

  ‘Well, when you say it like that …’

  A noise crept through his head. It began softly, then rang with crystalline clarity: cold, clear and mirthful. His eyes went wide.

  Did you just … laugh?

  ‘Ah, honoured guests!’

  The bass voice of Bagagame boomed with the ache that rose in Lenk’s neck whenever the Owauku made his presence known. He looked up to see the stout lizardman waddling in from the small hole in the stone wall that formed the hut’s back entrance. His yellow grin broad, he bowed deeply, doffing his hat.

  ‘May Bagagame present, on behalf of y’most pleased hosts of Teji …’ He stepped aside, pulling back the portal’s leather flap. ‘King Togu!’

  Lenk turned a baffled stare from the hole to the figure seated upon the throne. Seeing no movement from the shrouded figure seated upon the throne, he glanced back to the portal and instantly had to choose between greeting, screaming or vomiting at the sight of the creature creeping out of the shadows.

  It was difficult to decide, however; there was no clear way to regard the amalgamation of green flesh, fine silk and dirty feathers that came out and regarded the companions with its yellow stare, for, truly, Lenk really had no idea what the hell King Togu was.

  Superficially, at least, it resembled an Owauku: stout, green, with a belly as round as his massive, gourdlike eyes. But this one sported a pair of long, fleshy whiskers that hung so far from his blunt snout as to dangle about his stubby feet.

  Still, the silk robe he wore open, so that it formed a purple frame to the bright jewel he wore in his belly, suggested something that had been digging in a nobleman’s trash. The feathered headdress he wore about his prodigious skull and the nauseating blend of flowers, vines, feathers and leathers he wore as decoration … well, Lenk really had no explanation for that.

  Quietly, the creature surveyed them, his eyes swivelling from Lenk to Kataria, then fixating one on Kataria while the other rolled with uncomfortable slowness to stare at Lenk. Eyes split apart, his face soon followed suit as a large, yellow-toothed smile neatly bisected the green visage into two equal segments of scaly flesh.

  ‘Cousins,’ King Togu spoke in a voice earth-deep and flower-sweet, ‘be welcome.’

  ‘Uh … thanks,’ Lenk replied. Possibly not the best greeting in the presence of reptilian royalty, he thought, but he found that the creature’s presence robbed him of coherent thought for anything more elegant. ‘I’m …’ He searched for a word and settled, reluctantly. ‘Glad? Glad that you’ve given us your time today.’

  ‘Glad? Glad?’ Both yellow eyes swivelled to regard Lenk incredulously. ‘Merely glad?’ He whirled upon Bagagame, face twisted into a frown. ‘Merely glad. Why not great? Why not fantastic? Why not in need of a drink, so viciously does the excitement inspired by Teji’s majesty seep out of their mouths?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Bagagame offered, shrugging helplessly. ‘Maybe they came to complain? The sun don’t shine that brightly these days and maybe—’

  ‘The sun always shines on Teji!’ Togu drove his point home at the end of a stubby backhand against the shorter Owauku’s cheek. ‘You are the one that diminishes our great reputation! Look!’ He smacked his subject again, sending one eye spinning towards Lenk. ‘A giant bug is sitting on his head! Is this how we will be remembered?’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Lenk said, suddenly feeling the dragonfly as it, suddenly frightened by the noise, scurried down onto his face. He reached up to brush it away. ‘It’s really no—’

  ‘Sorry! Sorry! M’fix that right up now!’ Bagagame came bounding over, eyes fixated on the sapphire-coloured insect.

  ‘It’s not necessary!’ Lenk’s hand moved away from the bug and out in a futile attempt to stop the Owauku as his lips slowly parted. ‘No! No, don’t—’

  His words were lost in the subsequent squishing sound and he blinked dumbly, unable to find any others. He didn’t feel this was at all inappropriate; it was, after all, quite difficult to form the proper thoughts to express one’s feelings at feeling the thick, sticky end of a lizardman’s three-foot-long tongue plastered to one’s cheek. Even as Bagagame drew it back, winged prize twitching as he yanked it into his grinning mouth, he was at a loss.

  He remained in that dumbstruck silence for a moment, blinking through the veil of saliva dribbling down his eyelid as he slowly, calmly licked his lips.

  ‘Right,’ he said, ‘so, anyway, we’re leaving.’

  ‘Leaving.’ Togu levelled a scowl at Bagagame. ‘Leaving. Why leaving?’

  ‘I don’t—’

  The king made a sweeping gesture back to the portal he had emerged from. ‘Go and get the coals.’

  Bagagame offered a bob of his head, scurrying off to the shadows and leaving the larger Owauku to sigh and stalk toward his throne, keeping one large eye upon the companions. Lenk watched him with some befuddlement; he wasn’t quite sure how he expected the king to take the news, but he wasn’t anticipating such calmness.

  Then again, he wasn’t sure he had ever actually anticipated having to explain anything to a feathered lizardman.

  ‘Naturally, I’m a bit curious,’ Togu said. ‘Have we not done all we could to establish our hospitality?’

  The quality of the king’s speech should likely have provided some comfortable familiarity, Lenk thought. Contrasted against the other Owauku, it merely made him seem all the more peculiar.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Lenk replied, ‘but surely, you must have known we’d have to leave sometime.’

  ‘Of course.’

  The king deftly leapt onto the armrest of his throne, nearly slipping from the wax before sliding up to perch on the velvet-lined back. His position, combined with his feathers, lent him an avian appearance that was only made more ominous as he reached down with a foot to slide the cloak off the stout figure seated in the throne. A truly massive waterpipe was revealed, seated smugly on the red velvet as Togu reached down to pluck up the hose and bring it to his scaly lips.

  ‘I suppose I was hoping that, against better judgement, you would linger for a while. It has been nice to have humans about in the village again.’

  ‘And your hospitality has been …’ Don’t say ‘horrifying’. ‘—lovely,’ Lenk said. ‘But we’ve got other places to be.’

  ‘And there is nothing I can say to convince you otherwise, I’m assuming, or you would not have come to me.’

  A great yellow eye swivelled to the portal, regarding Bagagame sourly as the smaller Owauku came teetering out with a tiny censer full of smouldering coals. He quickly applied them to the waterpipe, the rich scent of flavoured tobacco filling the air almost instantly as the water burbled inside its vase. Togu drew in a breath that lasted for ages, his chest inflating to a size preposterous for a creature his size. When he did speak again, his words came out on a cloud of smoke that made him resemble some great
, fire-breathing beast.

  ‘Which does make old Togu wonder why you have come.’

  Bagagame cringed at even the brief, dismissive wave Togu offered him and quickly ran, bowing apologies to both of the companions as he scurried between them and out the door. Lenk watched him go only until he was exactly three and a half feet out of earshot then turned back to Togu.

  ‘Well, as you may have noticed, we aren’t in much shape to be getting anywhere,’ he explained. ‘We had been expecting a …’ Don’t say ‘hired peon.’ ‘—friend to come retrieve us, but we haven’t seen any sign of a black ship lately.’

  ‘Have you?’ Kataria chimed in.

  Togu coughed slightly, apparently choking on a stray ash that had crept its way into his hose. He shook his head, thumping his chest gently.

  ‘Not as such, no,’ he said. He appeared to furrow his scaly ridges in thought, Lenk thought, but that might just be some other emotion too deep for eyes the size of grapefruits to convey. ‘No … no … the Gonwa would have spoken of such a boat.’

  ‘Ah, well, that seems—’

  ‘Lies.’

  A cold ache crept through him, a frosty hand wringing his spine for a moment before releasing it. He shook his head, as he might shake snow from his hair.

  ‘Discouraging,’ Lenk finished, his voice degenerating into a mutter. ‘I suppose it might have been helpful if the Gonwa had actually told us first, though.’

  ‘They are … a complex people,’ Togu replied, scratching his chin. ‘They come from Komga, an island with too many trees, not enough sun and, as such, they lack our “sunny” disposition.’ He grinned at his own joke. ‘They must be more than a little irritated at having moved here, anyway, but Teji will grow on them.’

  ‘And why did they move here, exactly?’ Kataria asked, drawing a glance from Lenk.

  That does seem important … Should … shouldn’t I have asked that?

  ‘Why would you?’

  That’s usually my thing.

  ‘Worrying? Let someone else do it.’

  Togu’s eyes rotated to regard her carefully. ‘Feel free to ask them.’

  She accepted the retort with what would appear, to anyone else, as a cool silence. Lenk, however, could see the faint tremble of her upper lip, the minuscule twitch of her eyelid, and a tiny, distinct quiver of her ears.

  ‘Sees. Hears. Lies.’

  ‘What?’ he whispered inwardly.

  ‘Point being,’ Togu continued, ‘Teji warms all and all warm to Teji, in time.’ He settled back, taking another deep puff of his pipe. ‘I’m sure you could find your place in it, if you wished.’

  ‘Point being,’ Lenk retorted, ‘that we don’t. We appreciate the hospitality inasmuch as we can appreciate having loincloths slapped on us, but—’

  ‘We are mending your clothes. It takes time when we lack thread.’

  ‘That, too, is appreciated, which brings me to my next point,’ he continued. ‘We were wondering if we could ask a little more of you.’

  Togu’s eyes shifted to him. ‘Ask away.’

  ‘A sea chart to find the nearest shipping lanes to the mainland, a boat to take us there, food to make it there and—’

  ‘Sword.’

  ‘And …’

  ‘Sword.’

  ‘Something …’

  ‘Need.’

  ‘Pants,’ Kataria interjected. ‘We want our pants back.’

  ‘Pants?’ Togu began to mutter, clouds of smoke roiling out of his nostrils. ‘Pants, pants, pants … It’s always pants with humans, isn’t it?’

  ‘What is it with lizardthings and calling me human? I’m not human!’ She took her ears in her hands, pulling them out for display. ‘Look at these things! They’re huge!’

  ‘Can you get us that sort of thing or not?’ Lenk asked with a sigh. ‘You can keep whatever it is you found from our wreckage in payment or we can work something out.’

  ‘What sort of something?’ Togu asked.

  ‘We can do … things.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Kill stuff,’ Kataria said, sniffing, ‘mostly.’

  ‘We do other things,’ Lenk countered with a glare.

  ‘Like what?’ she asked, sneering.

  ‘Things, you know …’ He leaned back, twirling his hand in what he hoped was at least vaguely thoughtful. ‘Such as … well, Denaos, I know, can play the lute. You probably have something like that, right?’

  ‘Ah, yes, the tall one,’ Togu said, inclining his head approvingly. ‘My people are quite fond of him. Does he have anything to say about your decision to leave?’

  ‘Nothing worthwhile,’ Kataria replied. ‘The only thing missing by him, or the rest of them, not being here is a bunch of whining and probably some attempt at innuendo or something stupid like that.’ She frowned, shrugging. ‘So can we have the boat or not?’

  Before Togu could even open his mouth, Lenk whirled upon her.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Negotiating.’

  ‘No, you’re just speaking loudly. You don’t understand negotiation.’ He tapped his chest. ‘That’s what I do.’

  ‘So … don’t this time,’ she replied, regarding him curiously. ‘Is that such a problem?’

  ‘It isn’t, you know.’

  ‘You be quiet,’ Lenk snarled.

  ‘Who be quiet?’ Togu asked.

  ‘Why even negotiate? Why leave? Everything you need is right here.’

  ‘Everything we need …’ Lenk whispered to himself.

  The words seeped into him on the silence inside his head, sowing his mind with seeds of comfort. In his brain, they began to bloom, a calm logic spreading over him. Why was this important? he wondered. Why go back to the fighting and death on the mainland? What was the point of it all?

  Everything he needed was here: sun, water, food, and though she may have been regarding him with a stare that twitched between confusion and worry, she was here, too. He smiled, not knowing why, not caring why.

  ‘No.’

  It came back, a sudden frost that swept over his mind, killed the blooming calm. His skull throbbed with fear, anger, contempt, all swirling about his mind, all carrying the voice through.

  ‘Cannot leave now.’

  ‘Cannot leave now,’ he whispered.

  ‘What?’ Kataria asked.

  ‘Then,’ Togu muttered, hope rising in his voice, ‘you wish to stay?’

  ‘Need to stay … need to kill …’

  ‘Kill,’ he uttered quietly.

  ‘What was that?’ Togu asked.

  ‘Lenk …’ she whispered, leaning close.

  ‘Lies all around us. Surrounded by worthlessness. Need to kill. Need to stay.’

  ‘Need …’

  ‘Sword.’

  ‘Sword.’

  ‘Sword?’ Kataria asked.

  ‘Need sword.’

  ‘Need it,’ he whispered.

  ‘Need what?’ Togu asked.

  ‘Sword.’

  ‘Sword.’

  ‘Sword!’

  ‘Not again, Lenk …’

  ‘SWORD!’

  ‘WHERE IS IT?’

  Togu recoiled, threatening to teeter off his throne as Lenk leapt to his feet and flung an icy stare at him. Lenk could feel his lids narrowing to slits, feel himself freezing despite the sun, but did not care. His head throbbed with need; his hands hungered for leather and steel.

  ‘Where is it?’ he demanded, not hearing the rasp of his voice. ‘Where is my sword? I need it … I …’ He took a step forward, leg trembling. ‘Need it.’

  It was cold at that moment. He could feel his flesh prickle, hairs standing on end, feel the departure of buzzing insects, as though his skin was suddenly unhallowed ground. All of nature seemed to follow their example: the sun averted its warmth, the air was strangled into a crisp chill.

  ‘No.’

  Even he would not have heard himself whimper if he didn’t know he had said the words; his voice was throttled,
frozen in his throat. He did not dare to speak louder for fear of what might emerge instead.

  He stared into Togu’s ever-widening eyes and knew that such a thing was wrong, not merely because such a feat seemed impossible for the creature’s already tremendous stare. Rather, he was familiar with such an expression, familiar with the fear embedded in a face rendered speechless by a voice not his own.

  Familiarity turned to pain the instant he felt her eyes upon him. Clearness gone, softness gone, now hard, scrutinising, studying, watching, peering, probing.

  ‘Staring.’

  ‘Stop …’ he whispered so softly only he could hear it.

  Or so he thought.

  ‘Mad.’ Togu may have whispered; the king’s voice was deep enough that such an effort was futile. His head trembled back and forth, as though refusing to acknowledge what he saw. ‘You’re … you …’

  ‘He’s fine.’

  Her hand was warm on his shoulder; that should not be. But it was, and strong, effortlessly pushing him past. Not past, he recognised, but behind. She stepped in front of him; he could not see the hardness in her eyes, but in her body, it was undeniable. She was tense, her spine rigid under her skin, muscles glistening with sweat, feet planting themselves solidly on the ground, neck rigid and eyes staring forward.

  ‘Just stressed.’

  ‘But he—’

  ‘Stressed.’

  Her canines flashed ivory white in the sunlight, her lip curling back to bare them menacingly. The meaning behind their sudden appearance, the inarguable fact that there would be no more discussion on the matter, was received by Togu and displayed in the slow and subtle tilt of his head.

  ‘These times are stressful, yes,’ the king muttered, nodding. ‘It is understandable that … people are on edge.’

  ‘It is,’ she said with an air of finality. ‘Now, then, about our request?’

  ‘A boat is no particular problem,’ Togu replied. ‘We had many before and the Gonwa only brought more. But—’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I still dislike to waste one. What can you do with a boat? Sail out and hope for the best?’ He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. ‘Not that we are not so very pleased that you managed to find your way, but … how was it you managed to arrive on Teji again?’