Scarred Man

by Bevan McGuiness

  ‘I have Seen many things.’

  ‘What do you See now?’ Quetzalxoitl said, finally sitting up and facing Myrrhini.

  Myrrhini looked at her. Something was wrong. It was as if the room had shifted, changed colour, blurred slightly. Everything looked strangely double as if she were seeing it all through a crystal. Quetzalxoitl herself was shimmering, part human, part … something else. Myrrhini raised her hand to her face. It, too, had changed.

  ‘It’s confusing, isn’t it?’ Quetzalxoitl said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your eyes now see what I see. You see both parts of the world at the same time. You are walking in the Seeing world as well as the real one. What your eyes see is both what is, and what could be. But you are different again. Your eyes are not quite like mine, they are more …’ she hesitated as if searching for the right word, ‘dangerous.’

  ‘Is that why you wear the blindfold?’

  Quetzalxoitl nodded. ‘It shuts out one view.’

  ‘The real one,’ Myrrhini added.

  ‘Real? It is not so easy to tell, sometimes.’

  Myrrhini shifted her gaze, lifting her eyes to look at the walls around her. They were insubstantial, as though shifting; it was like looking at something moving so fast she could see through it. Beyond the walls, the city of the Blindfolded Queen lay peacefully in the shape of the symbol for refuge. Only the refuge was less than total. A shadow was extending over the city, growing even as Myrrhini watched.

  ‘Can you see that?’ she asked, pointing outside.

  ‘No. I can’t see anything different any more. My sight is all but gone, like I told you.’ She rose and stood beside Myrrhini. ‘What can you see?’

  ‘A large black shadow is moving across the city.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  A name flashed across her mind, bright like a sword in the sunlight.

  ‘What is Tulugma?’ she asked.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I think we need something called Tulugma.’

  Quetzalxoitl shuddered. ‘I don’t want to know.’ She rubbed her head. ‘I am sorry about …’ she said, raising two fingers and making stabbing gestures. ‘It was necessary, otherwise you would have had to use daven all the time.’

  ‘Xahnatl yatl,’ Myrrhini said.

  ‘You are generous, Myrrhini.’

  Myrrhini watched her leave, wondering at the shift in her image. As she walked, Quetzalxoitl blurred again, becoming darker and less clear. It was almost as if she were fading from existence.

  42

  Maida sat impatiently beside the closed door. At her feet, motionless and impassive, Tatya watched the Agent guarding the door with hungry eyes. Maida had no doubt the spurre would happily tear the man apart were she to ask. From the look on his face, the Agent believed it also. Mischievously, Maida reached down and ruffled Tatya’s mane.

  ‘Hungry?’ she asked.

  The shapeshifter rumbled in reply, drawing an apprehensive swallow from the Agent.

  ‘It won’t be long now,’ Maida assured Tatya.

  As if in response, the door opened to reveal the Queen. The Agent stiffened.

  ‘Come in,’ Quetzalxoitl said in her low, melodious voice.

  Maida rose and went into the throne room. Tatya padded in alongside her.

  Queen Quetzalxoitl sat on the large chair she used as a throne. The room was not big, but it was elegant, with its mosaic floor, painted ceilings, heavy drapes over floor-to-ceiling windows and ornate furniture. The colour blue dominated and everything somehow had the theme of four within it. Every pattern, every design was built around four: diamond shapes, squares and rectangles particularly. Even their military structure, she recalled, was built on the basic four-man unit. Maida stood for a moment before impatience overruled sense.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ she asked.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I want to know who you are and why you are here.’

  ‘My name is Maida and I am here because your Agents captured me and dragged me here against my will.’

  ‘But you escaped and still came here, of your own free will.’

  Maida looked down at the floor, not sure how much to say.

  ‘Let me guess,’ the Queen said. ‘Myrrhini, whom you knew to be the Eye of Varuun, had a Seeing and told you something of its meaning.’ She smiled, but unable to see her eyes, Maida could not decide whether the smile was genuine. It seemed somehow dangerous.

  ‘Something like that, yes,’ Maida said.

  ‘So, what did she tell you?’

  ‘That Keshik and Slave were coming here.’

  ‘Did she say why?’

  ‘They were following us.’

  Quetzalxoitl leant forward and tapped a finger on her chin. ‘Keshik following you, I can understand, but why was Slave following Myrrhini?’

  ‘Myrrhini’s a mystic. She understands things I don’t. Keshik follows me because he loves me. Slave is following Myrrhini for very different reasons. From what she has said, I don’t think she even likes him. She’s certainly terrified of him.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘Something about how he got them away from some Lac’un slavers.’

  Quetzalxoitl sat back in her throne. She was wearing a very revealing dress of a light fabric. It was basically several unjoined strips of cloth in varying shades of blue hanging down from her shoulders, gathered by a belt at her waist. Every time she moved, it shifted with her to reveal more of her soft brown skin. Maida wondered how much such a dress would cost. If she were to wear it outside, it could get almost any man killed, for no man could resist watching its enticing drift with every passing breeze. Keshik would be cutting men down for their lustful stares at every pace.

  Once she could take her eyes off the dress, Maida noticed that the Queen’s mask was black leather with a symbol stitched across it in gold thread.

  ‘You like it?’ Quetzalxoitl asked suddenly.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘My dress.’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Don’t try to lie to me, I can See your motives.’

  Another mystic! Maida cursed silently.

  ‘Tell me about the Tulugma,’ Quetzalxoitl demanded.

  ‘They are warriors. Trained and disciplined. They are very dangerous. There’s something about how they fight; I’ve only ever seen one man who could beat a Tulugma fighter, and he beat two at once.’

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Describe him.’

  ‘He was strange looking, very dark skin, black basically, with odd hair. It was yellow, almost green.’ Maida shuddered as she recalled the night she died. ‘But it was his eyes. One was green, but his left was silver, pure silver.’

  ‘Silver,’ Quetzalxoitl mused. ‘That’s what that is about. A silver eye.’

  ‘That’s what what is about?’

  The Queen made a dismissive gesture with her hand before going on. ‘Tell me more about the Tulugma. Where is their base, their Kuriltai?’

  ‘In Tusemo, to the east, just at the foot of the mountains.’

  ‘You’re Tusemon yourself, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Is that where you met Keshik?’

  Maida gave a curt nod. She did not want to talk to this disconcerting woman about that. ‘Why do you want to know about the Tulugma?’

  ‘Myrrhini said we should send for them. She thinks we will need them.’

  ‘What does she know about military strategy?’ Maida could not keep the scoffing tone from her voice.

  ‘Nothing, which makes her Seeing that much more interesting. To me, that suggests there is more to it than just a military reason.’

  Maida shrugged, not caring either why Myrrhini might have said something, nor what this bizarre woman might think about it. It had all become so frustrating, so tedious. Keshik was supposed to be coming here, so where was he? She dropped her
eyes as she thought, not bothering to pay any attention to the Queen on her throne. Not until that queen slapped her across the face.

  ‘How dare you!’ Quetzalxoitl shouted. ‘You will not stand there and disrespect me in my own throne room.’

  Maida stepped back in shock. She raised her hand to her stinging cheek. At her side, Tatya snarled. Quetzalxoitl turned her face to the big spurre and spat a single word Maida did not know. Raising her blindfolded face back to regard Maida, Quetzalxoitl slapped her again.

  ‘Would you like to know your destiny?’ she hissed. ‘I have Seen so much. So much death, so much suffering, and you have played your part, Maida of the Tusemon. Already, you are responsible for more than you could possibly know.’

  Maida lifted her chin to stare at Quetzalxoitl. Her cheek burned with the sting of the Queen’s blows and her eyes were hard.

  ‘Don’t pretend to be defiant, Maida. I can see beyond your mask into your fears. Who do you think was the one behind your nightmares? How do you think you were brought back from the dead? It was your death that brought this evil upon us, that and your foolish lover’s refusal to leave you where you belonged. Kielevinenrohkimainen owned you from the moment Keshik carried you out of the labyrinth. It was you, woman, who brought the evil directly here to me.’

  ‘How could I do that?’

  ‘It has no body of its own and can only travel short distances so it borrows others’.’ Quetzalxoitl made her way back to her throne as she spoke. When she was seated once more, she turned her disconcerting mask to Maida. ‘Your body, specifically. And when it discovered it could not enter my city, it took Huitzilin.’

  ‘Where is it now?’

  ‘I don’t know. And that bothers me.’

  ‘How can you know all this?’

  ‘I See. Everything, or at least I used to. My vision is fading, which is why I needed the Eye.’ Quetzalxoitl stared up at the ceiling. It was covered with intricate patterns painted in beautiful, subtle colours. ‘Do you know,’ she went on without looking down, ‘that there is a meaning buried in every pattern in this tower?’

  Maida shook her head.

  ‘Of course you don’t. You are an uneducated slag who knows nothing more than her carnal desires for a cold-blooded assassin. You don’t even know why your pet shapeshifter follows you around like a tame pussy cat.’

  At the mention of Tatya, Maida looked down to the spurre. She had not even reacted when the Queen had slapped Maida a second time. Maida realised Tatya was utterly motionless; she did not even appear to be breathing.

  ‘What have you done to her?’ Maida demanded.

  ‘You don’t even know that, do you?’ The Blindfolded Queen sighed theatrically. ‘The Mertians and the Scarens always had power over the magical beasts, and the shapeshifters are the most magical of them all. Imagine the power we had over a shapeshifter whose major form was a spurre. I could break the link that holds her to you with a snap of my fingers, or a single word.’ She lowered her hidden gaze to Maida and smiled with malice. ‘But I don’t think I will. Now get out, both of you.’

  Tatya stirred, but her eyes remained blank as she followed Maida from the throne room. As they passed through the open doorway, the Queen called out.

  ‘Agent, fetch me an achulti. We need to send word to the Tulugma. It’s time for them to take some responsibility for Keshik.’

  43

  ‘Why am I looking after you?’ Keshik muttered. ‘Can’t you survive a fight without falling over?’

  Slave opened his eyes and looked up at the irritable man. He went to speak, but the pain of moving his lips stopped him.

  ‘Oh, you’re awake,’ Keshik said. ‘I keep twenty or so insane, gibbering Agents off your back while you try to beat one man, and even then I have to save your skin.’

  ‘I thought you had no sense of humour.’ The pain of cracking the burned skin around his mouth was worth the look on Keshik’s face.

  ‘I don’t.’ Keshik stood and stared down at Slave. ‘What was that thing you fought?’

  Slave started to speak again, but tasted his own blood and stopped.

  ‘Fine,’ Keshik said. ‘Go back to sleep while I try to find something to eat in this ghastly place.’

  Slave slipped back into either sleep or unconsciousness and was roused by the smell of cooking meat some time after dark. Overhead, both moons lit the sky and a wind blew across the plains. Another smell, much less pleasant, was carried with the westerly breeze. He groaned and tried to sit.

  Keshik looked up from the cooking fire and gave him a nod. ‘Good timing,’ he said. ‘Food’s ready.’ He tossed Slave a chunk of cooked meat. Slave caught it easily and started, painfully, to eat.

  ‘Reflexes are still good,’ Keshik observed. ‘That’s a good sign.’

  ‘How badly am I hurt?’ Slave asked carefully around a mouthful of the greasy meat.

  ‘You’re not as pretty as you were. The burns aren’t bad, but they’ll scar.’

  Slave shrugged. ‘I’m scarred already.’ He chewed and swallowed. The meat was tough and bitter. ‘What is this?’ he asked.

  ‘Some furry animal,’ Keshik answered. ‘There’s a few of them around, so you’d better get used to the taste.’

  ‘I have eaten worse.’

  ‘Have you ever tasted curdled cague milk?’

  Slave nodded, recalling the horrible stuff from his time with the Kuvnos.

  ‘Now that is bad,’ Keshik observed. ‘I like horse blood, mixed with mare’s milk, but that stuff is beyond eating.’

  ‘Ever tried xath lizard?’

  Keshik blanched and pretended to gag. ‘Only once. You know the Rilamans eat that?’

  Slave’s master had fed him on a wide variety of different foods, most of which were bland, but some stood out in his memory. It was hard to imagine anyone choosing to eat xath lizard, raw or cooked. The scent of dead men wafted again past them. Slave winced at the stench.

  ‘What are we going to do about those bodies?’ he asked.

  ‘Leave them to rot. You’ll get used to the smell soon enough.’

  ‘We should get rid of them.’

  ‘How? I am not going to dig a big enough hole to bury them, and we can’t burn them.’ He gestured at the vast grassy plain that surrounded them. ‘A fire out here would be lethal. It would burn for days, and you’d never outrun it.’

  ‘Why not move away at least?’

  Keshik shook his head. ‘It might attract some scavengers, and I could use some variety in my diet.’

  His logic was sound, so Slave finished the meat and lay back onto the ground again. The battle with the Agents ran through his mind. They were insane, barely human, yet they fought well, and that man — why could his Claw not cut him? And why could Keshik’s blade? Had he had some magical protection? What sort of flame was that?

  ‘Ice and wind,’ Keshik grumbled. ‘He’s fallen asleep again.’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Slave mumbled, realising as he spoke just how close he was to doing so.

  ‘Good. You can answer me a question. That thing we killed …’

  ‘I don’t think we killed it.’

  ‘It looked dead.’

  ‘We killed the body it was in, but I don’t think it is dead.’

  Keshik remembered when he had met it beneath the city of Vogel. He had struck down its body, with the same sword as he had used this time, but it had clearly not died.

  ‘So, where is it?’

  ‘I don’t know. And it worries me.’

  Keshik grunted. ‘Well, it’s gone now. And you need some more rest. If you’re going to sleep, you had better wrap up. It’s going to be a cold night and with those burns, you’ll lose heat fast.’

  Slave felt Keshik drape something over him. It was warm and thick. Just as he slipped into sleep, he wondered what it was, but sleep took him before he could ask.

  He drifted in and out of consciousness for a few days as they stayed there, somewhere in the vast Midacean plains, while the moo
ns wheeled overhead in their endless dance. Keshik had been right — there were a lot of those furry animals, and Slave did get used to the bitter taste. There were also some tasteless roots that Keshik found and cooked up with the meat. They were dense and filling, but ultimately unsatisfying. He ate mechanically, conscious of the need to regain his strength and to keep his body as well fed as possible in order to do so.

  They talked little during that time but Keshik was clearly chafing with the inactivity after a day or so. He spent much of his time sitting with his back to Slave, staring east at what Slave presumed was the invisible barrier to the Blindfolded Queen’s homeland as if trying to see a way in. Slave wondered how long he would sit there, willing it into existence.

  It was a cold and blustery morning when Slave felt well enough to move again. He eased himself up and tried a few practice manoeuvres with his Claw. His body protested at the unwelcome action, but the protests were weak and easily ignored, mainly muscle stiffness.

  ‘About time,’ Keshik said as he watched Slave. He started to gather their possessions into a makeshift pack that he slung over his shoulder.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Slave asked.

  ‘North.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What about hunting down some Midacean witches and asking them if they know how to get into there?’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

  Slave thought the idea pointless and was about to say so when a sound reached his ears. He held his hand up.

  ‘What now?’ Keshik said, dropping the pack again and drawing his blades.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s a strange sound, like people walking, but muffled, like from beyond a wall.’

  ‘An invisible wall?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Where?’

  Slave pointed east, to where only open plain was visible.

  ‘Got to be,’ Keshik said with a smile.

  The sound grew.

  ‘We need to hide,’ Slave cautioned.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There are a lot of horses coming.’

  Keshik cocked his head to listen. His eyes widened in surprise as he heard what Slave had been listening to. ‘A lot’ was an understatement. He estimated at least three hundred, possibly more. It was not simply horsemen coming, it was an army, and it was close.