Scarred Man

by Bevan McGuiness

  Slave snapped his gaze up to regard Tynos. ‘I don’t care what you do,’ he said. ‘I will not give any orders. You do not follow me.’ The idea of leading these people made him remember Korbinian and his little tribe, all slaughtered because they chose to follow him.

  ‘You said you were heading to Leserlang.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Then the Kuvnos will follow.’

  ‘No!’ Slave shouted. ‘I will not lead you.’ He started to back away from Tynos and the other men who were approaching. There was no fear in their eyes, just excitement, anticipation. All Slave could see, all he could hear, was the battle when Korbinian’s tribe were slaughtered. It was his fault they died, and he would not, could not, face that again.

  Tynos glared at him, as if challenging him, but Slave shook his head and walked away from the natona. Behind him, he heard Tynos bellow the order to shift their shadow and make for Leserlang. Slave pulled his yok tighter around his chest, tucked his chin down and kept walking.

  A hand grabbed his arm and pulled. Slave was about to strike, but even through the layers of heavy clothing, he could tell the grip was not strong. As he restrained himself, Slave realised it was a woman’s hand. He stopped walking and turned to face Kirri. She snatched her hand back and rested both of her fists on her hips. Her eyes blazed and her mouth was set in a tight line.

  ‘Where do you think you are going?’ she snapped.

  Slave gestured towards the south. ‘Leserlang.’

  A small twitch changed the shape of Kirri’s mouth. ‘It’s over there,’ she corrected, pointing in a more easterly direction.

  ‘How can you possibly know?’ Slave said with exasperation as he looked out at the featureless plain.

  ‘I’ve lived all my life out here, I know which direction is which.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You don’t know much, do you?’

  ‘I certainly don’t know what you’re doing here.’

  ‘Stay with us,’ Kirri said. ‘Stay with us until we get to Leserlang, at least.’

  Slave shook his head. ‘I will not lead you. I will not tell anyone what to do.’

  ‘You don’t have to. We don’t really need a leader. Just stay with us.’

  ‘Why? I am dangerous to anyone near me.’

  ‘No. You are surrounded by peace.’

  Slave snorted. ‘You don’t know anything about me. You don’t want me anywhere near you.’

  Kirri lowered her eyes and gripped the edge of her yok. ‘I do,’ she said softly.

  A sudden insight came to Slave. ‘You said you want me near you; is that Kirri, or the Kuvnos?’

  Kirri raised her head and held Slave’s eye proudly. ‘Kirri,’ she said.

  13

  They met up with the other Agents under Huitzilin’s command a few days out from Leserlang. Huitzilin and the other two Agents moved out of the wagon to ride, leaving her alone with the taciturn wagon driver. The wagon rumbled on through the woodland, the shade bringing welcome relief from the heat. Maida lay on her back on the floor, being rocked and bounced with every jolting movement as they headed relentlessly south-east. She was fed regularly and given water whenever she asked, but apart from that no one spoke to her, and she was watched intently the whole time. Huitzilin was clearly taking no further chances with her.

  Each night, she was let out of the wagon and left to sleep on the ground beneath its shelter, chained to one of the wheels. She lay alone, listening to the idle chatter of her captors.

  ‘Long time out,’ one said.

  ‘Too long.’

  ‘At last we’re heading home with something.’

  ‘Like how many others?’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Think about it, man. The Queen sent out how many xuauhtlis? Two hundred? Three hundred? Nearly five thousand Agents, all of us with the same orders — find and bring back the female companion of the Scarred Man. Seriously, how many women like that are there?’

  ‘Careful, the Queen is watching.’

  ‘Watching, yes, but listening? I doubt it.’

  ‘How many of us will ever get home?’ came a different voice, one Maida had not heard before. It was a harsh, low voice, sounding like it had been damaged, possibly from a throat wound.

  His quiet question stilled the conversation for a while. Maida found herself wondering how many Agents there were in a xuauhtli. She counted the men around the fire; including Huitzilin, there were eight.

  ‘We’re lucky we weren’t sent too far west,’ Opochtli said softly.

  ‘Some of us were,’ the damaged voice said.

  ‘I’ve heard it’s bad,’ Opochtli said.

  ‘You’ve heard nothing.’

  ‘Tell us the truth, then, Atl.’

  Atl grunted. ‘Not much to tell. There’s more scarred men out there than unscarred ones. But very few are travelling — they are either fleeing or insane.’ He hesitated. ‘Or more likely both.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The army over there, it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard of. They’re all insane, and I mean insane. They scream all the time, drooling and biting their own tongues. They kill anything that moves, animals, people, trees that wave in the wind.’

  ‘Ha! Now I know you’re joking, Atl.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  There was something dark, something utterly emotionless in Atl’s tone that sent a chill through Maida. She remembered the mob who had chased them out of Vogel, the men and women who had slashed their own faces with expressions of agonised ecstasy, the thing that had risen from the ground before them. She remembered how it had looked at them but held off when it saw the marks on Keshik’s face.

  ‘They destroy everything, burning and tearing down anything in their way,’ Atl went on.

  ‘But where do they sleep? What about logistics and supplies? They are still human, they have to eat.’

  ‘You don’t want to know what they eat,’ Atl said. ‘And they are not a conquering army, not an organised force like a real army. Anyone who is hurt or falls behind is left to die. They just drive on without thought to the niceties of camps or supplies. They sleep where they fall and eat whatever they grab. There are no logistics; the thing leading them is not human and it cares nothing for its followers.’

  ‘What is it?’

  Atl shrugged. ‘As far as I know, no one knows.’

  ‘I know,’ Maida said. ‘I was there when it first erupted out of the ground.’

  Every face turned towards her, every eye intense.

  ‘What did you say?’ Huitzilin asked.

  ‘I was there. I’ve seen it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It is the evil that was buried beneath Vogel.’

  ‘That’s just a myth.’

  Maida pointed at Atl. ‘Ask him how much of a myth it is.’

  From her position on the ground, chained by the ankle to the wheel of the wagon, Maida could not see the expressions on their faces, but Atl was the first to look away. In the inconstant orange light of the fire, the tears streaming down his face were clear.

  What did you do, Keshik, when you made that bargain to bring me back? What have we unleashed on the world?

  Slowly they looked away from her, to stare silently into the fire. There was no more conversation that night as the Agents lost themselves in their own thoughts. Maida’s thoughts led her inexorably back to the dark and horrible time between the moment the Warrior’s Claw had smashed into her head and when Keshik cradled her, naked and freezing, against his bloodied chest.

  She tried every day to put the experience behind her, but here, alone, under the wagon remembering the sight of that black, gnarled thing erupting from the ground, it all flooded back to her. She could see again the lightning-fast blade flying past her guard, feel that moment of unspeakable agony as it shattered her skull. The utter black, the insufferable cold of nothing where she hung motionless, the growing terror as those things came towards her, e
merging from the dark.

  It took all of her strength to keep from screaming in horror as she recalled the things they did to her, their slavering jaws, their huge rending talons. And always, hovering just beyond them, silently smiling at her, was that figure. It was almost human, but so clearly not. Somehow she knew it was controlling the things, urging them on, holding them back, keeping her helpless while they ripped and tore at her non-corporeal form which could feel, but neither move nor be destroyed.

  Was it death she had experienced, or something else?

  She must not sleep, not now that they were back in her mind. If she slept, she would lose control over her memories and she would awake before dawn, screaming, drenched in sweat and filthy with her own mess. It had happened before. Keshik had been there and comforted her, but she had never told him what had so tormented her.

  He had saved her from it. He had brought her back. He must never know. She had to escape these grim Agents and return to Leserlang, to save Keshik as he had saved her. Maida lay back on the hard ground and stared up at the underside of the wagon that had become her prison cell. She reminded herself of her life since Keshik had ridden out of the snow like some avenging fiend to save her life from the Tulugma attackers. Above her, the Sisters moved towards each other, inexorably bringing in a new Crossing.

  Dawn found her still awake, still staring up at the wagon’s underside, still thinking about Keshik. Her tears had dried and the fears had subsided, but she was exhausted and angry. Angry that these Agents had taken her, angry that Keshik was somewhere back in Leserlang alone, and angry that she had once again succumbed to weakness. When Atl came to unchain her she was just tired and angry enough to try something.

  She watched as he squatted by her ankle and reached for the lock. It gave a heavy clunk as he turned the key and she lashed at his face with her other foot. It connected hard with his jaw and sent him toppling backwards, momentarily stunned. Maida sprang forward and grabbed his sword and dagger before he could recover, then sprinted across the camp. She made it to a horse before anyone raised the alarm.

  The horse was well trained and would not move, no matter how much she urged it on. She kicked at its flanks with her heels, whipped at it with her hands, but it simply stood awaiting its rider’s instructions.

  ‘Ice and wind,’ Maida shouted. She swung her leg over the horse and jumped off. Men were running at her from all directions. Maida looked around quickly — the only way out was back into the bushes again. There was no choice; she turned and ran headlong into the hedge.

  The branches tore at her, ripping her clothes and leaving a fine tracery of bloody scratches over every part of exposed skin. She pushed herself hard into the dense bushes as the Agents shouted at her. When she was far enough in, she dropped to the ground, to the more open area underneath. Once down on the ground, she changed direction and scurried as fast as she could diagonally away from the camp.

  The shouts of the Agents died at a bellowed order from Huitzilin. In the sudden silence, Maida felt a chill. Something was happening, something unnatural. A low hum came to her ears, really more of a buzz. It was annoying, like an insect. She tried to bat it away, but it was insistent. Maida put her head down and continued her flight. No sounds of pursuit came after her as she drove herself along the ground.

  The heat built up as she scrambled along. She was sweating heavily under her northern clothes and the dust was filling her nostrils. The blood from a multitude of cuts trickled down her face and arms, eventually slowing as the dust clogged its flow. Insects landed on her, adding to the buzzing in her ears as well as biting her. Finally, she saw the hedge coming to an end ahead of her. She quickened her pace slightly and broke out into the sun.

  ‘Look what the spurre dragged in,’ a voice said. Maida looked up to see the booted feet of four Agents.

  ‘How did you …’ she started.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you I studied at Leserlang as a Reader?’ Huitzilin interrupted.

  Maida rolled over and sat up, crossing her legs as she stared at the Agent. ‘No, you didn’t,’ she said.

  ‘Would you stop trying to run away?’ Huitzilin asked. ‘You know I will always find you.’

  ‘No,’ Maida said.

  ‘The Queen will get what she wants — you should accept this. I will take you to her, if I have to take you in chains the whole way.’

  ‘Might as well chain me now, because I will not go willingly.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Huitzilin said. He gave a nod to one of the Agents who lifted a chain that ended at either end with shackles. ‘You know what to do,’ Huitzilin told him.

  Maida spat at the Agent as he approached, but he ignored her and snapped the locks on her ankles. He wiped the spittle from his face as he rose and gave her a smile.

  ‘Enjoy,’ he said.

  She spat again, but missed.

  ‘Your choice, Red,’ Huitzilin told her. He began to walk away, but paused and gave her a strange half-smile. ‘And while we are talking, you might want to finally tell me your name.’

  Maida shook her head.

  Huitzilin shrugged. ‘Fine, have it your way, Red.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘Time to head south,’ he ordered.

  14

  ‘My Beq,’ a quiet voice said. ‘Such weakness is unbecoming.’

  Slave slowly rose to his feet and turned to face the voice. Standing naked amid the bloodied corpses was Kirri. But despite the body, it was the thing he had met beneath Vogel. There was no mistaking those eyes, the malice, the ancient hunger.

  The beast wearing Kirri’s body gestured with a blood-covered hand at the scattered remnants around it. ‘You have made good use of my Claw,’ it said.

  Slave stepped forward and raised the weapon.

  ‘And my blessing,’ it went on.

  ‘You can have them both back,’ Slave snarled. ‘I don’t want either of them.’ He raised his arm to hurl the Warrior’s Claw, but the creature extended its hand and the weapon was wrenched from Slave’s hand by an unseen force. It tore through his flesh as it left, leaving Slave stumbling to his knees in pain.

  ‘So soft, for a Beq.’ The beast waved Kirri’s hand and Slave’s wounds healed instantly. It raised the Claw to its face and regarded it closely. ‘The julle would suit you best. The spurre is too cowardly and the wyvern lacks your intelligence.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’ Slave demanded.

  ‘Everything. You are my Beq, my warlord. You will lead my armies as we sweep across the world again bringing chaos back.’

  ‘I will not!’

  ‘You already have.’ It lowered the Claw and indicated the carnage strewn around. ‘I have you to thank for all this.’

  ‘No! This was not all me. Your army started this. They attacked these people without warning!’

  ‘Of course they did. They were seeking you, my Beq.’

  ‘Me? How did they know how to find me?’

  ‘My own Eye of Varuun had a Seeing.’ It grinned, a horrible, leering expression that cracked Kirri’s lips. ‘Why else do you think your army attacked that Place of the Acolytes?’

  ‘Myrrhini said she was the last of the Eyes.’

  ‘She was wrong. There are some left, scattered about. You and I, Beq, we will hunt down and destroy the last pitiful remnants of our ancient enemy.’

  ‘Our enemy? Myrrhini is no enemy of mine.’

  ‘You don’t know? How can you not know who you are?’ Kirri’s body was forced into laughter. ‘How perfect.’ The beast made the woman’s body shift and contort as it moved within her. ‘Your master chose you before you were born and, despite his planning, we will change the world, you and I. And what makes it better is that you don’t even know why.’ Kirri’s mouth opened wider until it was too wide and the flesh tore. The writhing contortions increased rapidly until the body was ripped apart, leaving the black, gnarled body of the beast standing astride the carnage. The thing grew in size to tower over Slave. It looked down with eyes glowing with chaos and sp
oke one word before vanishing.

  Slave fell to his knees in anguish, his hands covering his eyes. His agony built as he remembered the beast’s last word.

  Myrrhini.

  He cried aloud and sat up. Beside him, Kirri continued sleeping. Her mouth was slightly open, her hair was tousled and she snored gently. Wrapped in her own fur-lined bag, only her face was visible. In the dim light of Yatil he could just make out the patterns that adorned her front teeth.

  In the days following Vasilis’s death, the Kuvnos had headed steadily south-east, making for Leserlang. They were travelling ‘unshadowed’ which meant they did not set up the natona at night, instead using small individual tents clumped together. Kirri unceremoniously set her tent beside Slave and stood staring at him until he joined her under its shelter. As soon as she slid in beside him, a low chuckle seemed to ripple through the whole tribe. In the darkness, Slave could not see Kirri’s blush, but they lay so close he could feel the increased heat in her face.

  ‘Now what?’ he had asked.

  ‘Ice and wind!’ Kirri hissed. ‘I don’t know. You know I’ve never done this before. I still hold my first find, remember?’ She paused before unsteadily continuing, ‘I had hoped that you …’ Her voice tailed away into silence.

  Slave had been given women by Sondelle. They had been experts who had taught him a lot, but since the woman Heskeri in Vogel he had not been with another. He reached out and held Kirri, pulling her close. She resisted at first before yielding to his strength. A low sigh escaped her lips as he kissed her cheek before seeking her mouth with his. Kirri’s body was wiry and strong, yet somehow softer than he had expected. She was hesitant, timid and unsure of herself, but her pleasure was real.

  Slave looked at her now, remembering the days they had spent, walking together, rarely speaking but rarely feeling the need to. The nights, so much like this one, spent exploring each other and talking in whispers after their lovemaking. Kirri spoke of her life in the barren tundra: its unexpected beauty; its unforgiving harshness; its simple survival. Despite his first impressions, Slave learnt to see this hard, brutal life from the point of view of one born to it.