Akar kept watch tirelessly against the vastness of the night, a forlorn wind biting at his unfeeling flesh and whipping his cloak into a frenzy of wings.
The next few days were spent much like the first: trekking far and speaking little. The Necrow relied on its perception of the earth-light to guide them south. Keren navigated loosely by the sun to be sure they were going in the right direction. There were no landmarks on the map that could help them here: this central plain was largely uninhabited and unexplored. Its desolation, combined with the hostility of the tribes to either side, made it largely unwelcome to merchants from the southern countries.
Sometimes Keren would wander ahead, searching for some milestone on the distant horizon. The earth was so flat that it faded into empty blueness rather than a backdrop of distant formations. Never had Keren felt so forsaken as when she stood alone before that endless skyline. She could feel the Necrow’s presence at her back: silent as snow, ominous as a storm. Its features hovered before her eyes, haunting her. Still, she tried to convince herself that none of it was real.
Increasingly it was growing harder to believe.
At last after several days Keren began to see shadows on the horizon. The next day they came to a large river collected from snowmelt in the mountains. The torrent rushed southwest, cutting a rugged channel through the plain.
“What watercourse is this?” Akar asked.
Keren consulted the map for the first time in three days. “It must be the one defining the border between Herayon and Pouthenos. There’s no other river charted anywhere in this area.”
“Then we’ve reached the border?”
“I suppose so.”
Keren stood at the precipice, staring down into the rust-red gorge. White water seethed two hundred feet below, churning against the ragged sandstone banks. It was the largest waterway she’d ever seen; far larger than the river that ran near her village, even when bursting with spring floods.
This channel marked the border between their nations. Somehow it didn’t look as significant as she’d expected. It was just another natural feature – the soil on the other side was the same color and consistency as that on this side: snowy and barren except for patches of scrawny sagebrush.
Until now, she hadn’t really believed she was prepared to leave her whole world behind.
Keren sank to the ground and wept.
This time she was sure she felt the Necrow prodding around the edges of her mind. How curious this human emotion was; how unpredictable! She felt like slapping it again, but couldn’t bring herself to make the effort.
She thought of Asher, Malak, and the rest of her village. Those who had escaped, and those who had not. The mothers who would never cradle their babes again; the fathers who would never watch their sons grow up. The children who, like her, had been left orphaned, abandoned in the forest. All of them people worthy of a good life, a good end…
“Why me?” she asked.
The Necrow said nothing.
“Why did you save me?”
“Because alone out of many, you survived. Long after others had fallen to madness, you endured.”
“I shouldn’t be here. I can’t just run away! They need help – they don’t stand a chance against Belshazzar –”
“Neither do you.”
Keren looked up at it, tears running down her cheeks. The wind froze bitterly where it brushed against the salty rivulets. “Why did you save me?” she asked again. Her heart vibrated with anguish, sending deeper meanings towards the creature’s spectral presence. I’m just a useless human being…
The Necrow cocked its head. When the brethren first enslaved your people, they found something they did not understand. Men fight beyond any hope of relief or reward, simply in order to die in the way they think best. It matters not what pressures we bring to bear against them; so long as a man retains his free will, he is determined to choose his own course.
There is no purpose in a Necrow’s existence, other than to serve Our Lord. There is no other fate imaginable. But men – they are different. They choose their own purpose. That is why a human was saved, and is now followed. Escape from my own fate would be impossible, otherwise.
Keren stared at it, then slowly looked across the desolate river canyon. “I can’t believe you rescued me…just because you expected me to give you a purpose…”
She dashed the tears angrily from her cheeks. “I am sick of death. Let’s get on with it, then, and see what this new country has in store.” She got to her feet, brushed off her baggy pants and set off westward along the cliff.
CHAPTER 5
ACROSS THE BORDER
It took most of the afternoon to find a crossing. At last they found an ancient stone bridge half fallen apart, barely emergent above the rushing tide. It took another hour to make their way down the high bank that rose between the riverbed and the plateau.
Keren eyed the seething waters nervously, but Akar was unperturbed. “Get back on the horse. A way across will be found.”
Keren turned her distrustful eye on it instead.
“Necrow and their horses are very sure on their feet,” Akar assured her. “And if the footing is not sure, well…better you are sitting on a beast that knows how to swim.”
Keren felt very much like telling it that, on the contrary, she knew very well how to swim. However, an entire childhood of frolicking in the placid streams of her homeland was poor preparation for the raging torrent that now confronted them. The legs of the stocky mare, by contrast, were thick with muscle from a lifetime of plodding.
Keren climbed aboard, muttering: “You’d better not make me regret letting you boss me around.”
The Necrow did not acknowledge this comment, but promptly mounted the nearest stone.
The ancient bridge was not made of any material Keren recognized. It was not constructed from many stones welded together with mortar and clever craftsmanship. Rather, the bridge seemed to have been produced from molten gray rock poured into a mold and left to set. The entire block had then been dropped right into the middle of the river; Keren wondered if its own weight was enough to anchor it to the riverbed.
Years of wear had worn the skin of the mold away, revealing a grid of iron bars within. Keren felt uneasy at the sight, and remembered they were passing into a land her people neither knew nor understood.
Akar leapt lightly between the gaps in the stone, leading the mare behind him. Water frothed and churned to either side. The horse nickered and tossed its head in fear, but the Necrow calmed it with a touch. They waded across a short section where the entire floor of the bridge had receded beneath the waterline. Keren could feel the mare brace against the powerful current pulling at its forelocks.
At last they were across. They climbed the far bank and continued southward, where the map claimed there lay a city called Xiramin.
The next morning was spent in speculation on what would befall them at that settlement.
“What shall be done if the natives are hostile?” Akar asked.
“Hmm. Kill them, I guess,” Keren mused. “That’s a depressing thought…stop being so morbid! They’re not going to be hostile!”
“How do you know?”
“Because if they were hostile it would be too much for my fragile nerves to take! Wait a minute, what’s that?”
The Necrow looked ahead with its usual lack of expression. “Are you referring to the people, or to something else?”
“Wait, there’s people? Why didn’t you say anything?” Keren stood up in the stirrups, trying to get a clearer view.
“They are not yet close enough to concern us.”
“Well, I was talking about those buildings on the horizon. I suppose you wouldn’t be able to see them, short-sighted as you are, but they are very obvious to those of us with normal vision!”
“Then one should suppose the people are there as well. Their fires are yet distant.”
A few more hours of walking brought them within view of X
iramin.
The foreign city reclined on the slope of a hill beside a glittering lake. The towers of the city were tall indeed, and bleached white as bone by the blazing sun. The rooftops, however, were painted in all manner of gay colors. The buildings were aligned on even tiers carved from the hillside, leading down to the lakeshore like a grand staircase. Walkways as fine as woven lace arched from wall to wall, swooping between broad doorways left open to the light and air. Warm-weather plants with lush green leaves sprouted around the pale walls. On the broad hilltop above the city, vast white windmills turned ponderously in the wind.
Keren gaped in astonishment as they approached the strange metropolis. As they drew nearer it became apparent that some of the highest towers were not made of stone, but of metal, which shone and flashed in the sunlight. On the streets trundled box-shaped carts painted in bizarre colors, glittering like crystal. The carts were not drawn by horses or people, but moved under their own power. On the lake below the city were fleets of white ships; slim shell-shaped vessels Keren had never seen before.
She almost reached out and clutched the Necrow’s arm, so astonished was she, and fearful. “What on earth are those things? How did they come to be here? Why have I never heard of them before?”
“Surely you jest,” Akar muttered. “You yourself explained why there was neither contact nor commerce between your two nations. Why are you so incredulous that they have inventions which your people have never seen nor heard of?”
“Er…I don’t…it’s hard to explain these kinds of human reactions, okay?! It doesn’t matter even if I was expecting to be surprised by something; it’s still surprising all the same!”
“That is not logical.”
“Just as I’m always surprised by how little you understand human emotions, even though I already know you’re not human!” Keren sneered. “See? You don’t get that either, do you?”
“No.”
“Ha!”
“Since you are not capable of reacting rationally to events, it only stands to reason that decisions should henceforth be left to another.”
“Hey! Don’t try to pull that on me!” Keren bawled.
“The safest thing to do would be to scout the city from a distance, take a few days to study these people’s behavior and see how they react to foreigners,” the Necrow mused.
Keren’s stomach lurched at this thought. “No way! We’ve been journeying through the wilds for days, and there’s no way I’m staying back now when there’s food to be had right there! And clean water! I haven’t had a bath in months! Akar, will they even let us into the city looking like this?! They might think we’re bandits come to raid them from some grungy cave up in the mountains!”
“One cannot know until it is tried.”
Keren straightened in the saddle. “Onward, then! We will risk the wrath of these devils head-on, with no fear! …And then demand food and water from them!”
The Necrow hissed softly. Keren grinned challengingly at it. “Oh, so you can hold back an entire army of undead Necrow, but you fear to confront a few men? How strange! I had no idea the Necrow had such an obvious weakness!”
“It is not the thought of battle which is troubling,” Akar murmured. “Merely the unnecessary waste of effort brought about by rash actions.”
“Haha! For humans, rashness and wastes of effort are what make life worth living! Now speak no more, nuisance, unless you wish to warn me when the locals begin to attack us!”
The locals did not attack them. In fact, they barely seemed to notice the odd pair as they entered the city. There were neither walls nor guards to hinder them. They waltzed right down the street – never mind that theirs was the only horse in sight, and both Keren and her companion stood out like rotten seed at harvest time. They were neither stopped nor questioned.
Rather, Keren was made uneasy by the obvious lack of concern in keeping strangers from entering the wealthy metropolis. She had not imagined there was metal enough in all the world to build such tall towers! There was even metal in the very cobblestones, forming parallel tracks on which the crystal carts trundled. The people wore gold and silver in abundance; necklaces, rings and bangles dangling from every throat, wrist and finger. The lowliest commoner bore more wealth in his garments than the most revered elder from Keren’s village.
Akar must have sensed the greed radiating from Keren’s soul as they proceeded down the street. Are you planning to rob them all in their sleep? If so, we might be forced to flee this place sooner than later.
Keren came to her senses. “Of course not! I’d ask them for a proper meal and a bath, first.”
She started to eye the faces of the passing locals, and noticed something odd. All who laid eyes on the specter beside her were startled by its appearance…but quickly concealed their surprise with polite disinterest. Never mind that Akar looked for all the world like a walking corpse; the cosmopolitans seemed determined to put only their best faces forward.
Keren peered around. The people here weren’t even all that diverse, for all the place resembled a port of trade. Most of them bore the same shade of sun-darkened skin and red-hued brown hair. They wore rich silks of many cuts and colors, yet the rainbow of hues seemed all the more similar due to their equal degree of eccentricity.
She had half been hoping to see merchants from even further lands than this; foreigners with strange languages and even stranger customs. And yet, all those here were quite similar in manner and dress. Why then were they so accepting of her companion’s unnatural appearance?
Then again, Keren realized, why should they be accepting of her? She obviously bore the slanted eyes and lighter skin of her clan…a people who entered this country only very seldom. Why didn’t this at least mark her as an object of curiosity, if not outright suspicion or hostility? She felt a little dismayed whenever she met the eyes of some handsome young local who beamed brightly at her as she passed, but without the least hint of surprise or wonder at her outlandish features.
It was probably because she was so completely smothered with dirt and sweat. Of course no self-respecting man would be interested in her now, given her wretched condition!
“Akar! Our first task must be to find some place to bathe. And eat. Preferably both at once!”
The Necrow tilted its head wryly. “As the Master commands, so the creature obeys.” Immediately it seized the nearest passerby on the shoulder. “Direct us to the nearest source of water and food!”
The Pouthenian, a middle-aged man with heavy pendants dangling from his ears, stared at the Necrow’s face as if hypnotized. “Two blocks yonder and one street up. There’s a square with some public restrooms, and several restaurants nearby.”
Akar nodded and released him, and the man wandered off as in a trance. Keren peered at Akar suspiciously. “Were you just –”
“Yes, tactics of compliance were used to garner the swiftest response,” the Necrow interrupted. “You should not be so surprised by the obvious.” It tugged on the horse’s bridle and led them in the direction of the square.
“Wait a minute. How is bathing going to do any good when I don’t have any clean clothes to change into afterwards?!”
“You should have thought of that before –”
“Oh, never mind! I’ll do it myself!” Keren cried. She eyed the crowd around them, then slipped off the horse and made her way towards her intended victims. They were an older couple, a man and woman dressed in simply cut silks, but richly adorned on their necks and wrists.
Keren threw herself in front of them and cried: “Begging your pardon, good sir and madam! We are weary travelers with no place to spend the night. Would you find in yourself the kindness to offer some food and clothing to those who have none?”
She wasn’t expecting any success on her first try. Instead, to her surprise, the couple threw up their hands and exclaimed: “Of course we will, you poor thing! However could we refuse our hospitality to such a dear young girl? Please, come this way! Everything y
ou may need is at our home.”
Keren stared at them for a moment before remembering: “I have a companion with me. He is a bit disconcerting to strangers, but may he come too?”
They glanced over at where Akar stood. Keren had a feeling they’d already noticed the Necrow and guessed they were together. In any case, they did not seem surprised by her request. “Of course, dear! We have guests so rarely. Oh, and do bring your horse too, we can put him up in the garden!”
Keren followed them as they made their way through the city, Akar drifting some ways behind. The couple introduced themselves as Gregory and Irene Periecho. They were members of the older retired segment of society, with grown children who had moved to other cities some years ago. They were more than happy to entertain strangers as, so a common saying went, a little charity goes a long way!
Their house was enormous by Herayon standards (but rather small by Xiramin standards, as they fervently reassured Keren). It was built of whitewashed stone and contained beautiful decorations in every room: vivid paintings and polished furniture and fresh flowers in crystal vases.
Not only that, but there was no end to the Xiraminians’ peculiar inventions. They had discovered ways to pump water inside of the rooms, and had boxes in the living area which conjured human speech from thin air. Most amazing was their ability to channel light in tubes and glasses, which they called ‘electricity’. All the rooms were lit by this brilliant glow.
They had a special room set aside for guests and had plenty of money to spend on food and clothes. They insisted on no thanks for their generosity.
Keren spent over an hour in the marble bathtub, soaking up the lovely scents of lavender and rose-oil in the water. Never mind that the water turned an ugly brown color almost as soon as she sat down in it…she could easily drain the old stuff away through a hole in the tub, and fill it again by turning the copper spigots on the side. Oh, the marvels these people possessed!
Necrosis (The Omens of Gaia Book 1) Page 6