Tears of the Dead

by Brian Braden

  Before Aizarg could say anything, Okta quickly rearranged the sticks and splintered pieces of wood. “Before us exists only two constants, storm and sea. Unless we can stabilize the flotilla, we cannot exist in harmony with either. We must cease fighting.” Okta paused as a hint of a smile touched his lined face. To Atamoda, he almost seemed to grow younger. Okta slowly raised his hand and closed it into a fist. “We must become one with sea and storm.”

  As Okta spoke, Atamoda sensed the flotilla slowly spinning, directionless, with no other purpose except to endure. Occasionally, tremors shook the flotilla as debris assaulted the edges. Decks rose and fell with sickening groans as lightning sizzled throughout the inky sky. Yet, the Lo ignored the dying world and hung on each word uttered by the Sco-lo-ti of the Carp. Soon, those in the inner council were nodding and asking questions.

  Atamoda could not hear every word, nor did she understand everything Okta spoke of. But she recognized the light of hope beginning to take root in the hearts of the council and her people.

  Finally, the questions ran out. Okta looked about, unable to suppress his smile.

  Aizarg turned to his inner council, “You’ve heard Okta’s plan. Speak your thoughts.”

  “What Okta proposes has never been done. To attempt it in the best of times would take days. Now...” Ba-lok shook his head. “...now, it’s impossible.”

  “I don’t know, Aizarg,” Levidi stared down at the collection of sticks. “I don’t know.”

  Ghalen tapped the center of the sticks. “If the seas grow any rougher, I can’t see how this can be done. If the Nameless God grants us a reprieve, perhaps.”

  Aizarg closed his eyes and lowered his head.

  Is he praying?

  Atamoda found the sight of a man in communion with the spirits jarring. So much had changed. She wondered what thoughts, what prayers, raced through his mind. At that moment the patesi-le realized how much she mourned for the lost gods that no longer filled her spirit.

  Could I ever commune with this Nameless God?

  The people stared at her husband, waiting on their Uros to pronounce their fate. Heavier than the rain, she felt anxious fear radiating toward him, a dark light more imposing than the giant wave.

  Aizarg took a deep breath and handed Levidi the staff. “Wedge it there.” He pointed to a small gap between two logs in the center of the wedding barge.

  Levidi obeyed as Aizarg stood to address his people. “If we separate, our people will drift alone in the veil of darkness. Our light will be extinguished forever, one boat at a time.”

  Aizarg’s voice rose above the thundering rain as he gestured to the inner circle. “The flotilla is our arun-ki, this inner circle our köy-lo-hely. We are Lo. One people. Let our light begin here.”

  As Aizarg spoke, the red metal orb began to glow like the previous night’s embers being rekindled just before dawn. Gasps went out among the Lo, including Atamoda. The Lo held their hands toward the staff as the glow slowly intensified, infusing washed out faces with color and life.

  Once again, the Nameless God displays His power.

  Bat-or stretched his little fingers toward the light. “It’s pretty, Mommy.”

  Aizarg continued, “The Deluge is the will of the Nameless God, but so are we! The Lo will unite and become one with sea and storm. Crane, Minnow, Carp, and Turtle will turn Okta’s words into reality and link this flotilla into an unbroken chain, which will carry us across the Black Sea.”

  Rays of light extended to the arun-ki’s embattled edges, where the men fighting the sea turned to witness its brilliance.

  At opposite ends of the crowded circle, the Fox and the Snake averted their eyes from the wondrous light. Unnoticed by all, they shrank back into the shadows behind the curtain of rain.

  16. The Little King

  In my quest for dragons, I traveled east along paths and trails crisscrossed throughout the millennia. The land of Cin had changed dramatically since my last journey. The Icelands had retreated north, and once familiar landmarks vanished. I lost my way on several occasions. Cold lakes and new forests blanketed lands where impregnable glaciers once stood. Not only was the natural world transforming; the most dramatic changes were in the world of men.

  I revisited settlements established on previous journeys. Many were gone, but some survived. A few remained simple villages where they still praised Nuwa’s name. However, several had grown into cities of hundreds, even thousands, of people. They possessed crafts I never taught them, such as the wheel and the bow. These people forgot Nuwa and lifted up mortals they called ‘kings,’ as gods. These kings raised armies and made war upon one another. In them, I sensed the influence of the Corruptor and began to doubt my purpose.

  As for dragons, they had faded into legend. With a heavy heart, I continued east until I came to the place where Cin met the Sunrise Sea. I could go no farther and made a bonfire on the shore.

  The Chronicle of Fu Xi

  ***

  No sleep, no food, only rock and rain and the fruitless search for Heise. Days and days had passed, with no sign of his horse.

  Fu Xi’s mortal half gasped for life, eating away at its own flesh. It fizzled away like hot grease on an iron pan, leaving only pure divinity clinging to this world’s rocky soil.

  Naked and raw, he crept forward across stone and crevice. Long ago, though how long he didn’t know, cotton and deerskin had rotted away. Cloaked only in the daggertooth’s fur, he crawled from rock to rock, orichalcum sword tied to his back with twisted strips of daggertooth skin. Like macabre armor, the cat’s skull covered his head, long canine teeth resting over his cheekbones.

  Fu Xi sensed the predator’s spirit stirring in him, a ghostly remnant clinging to the uncured hide. The beast’s hunger stirred like a fire in his belly, its powerful restlessness coursed through his limbs. Now he smelled roasting meat wafting up from below.

  Somewhere below, men ate.

  His tortured stomach twisted and growled.

  Fu Xi slowly made his way down until he heard voices. A ruddy glow outlined the top of a ledge below him. Smoke wafted around the ledge, misty fingers crawling toward him through the rain. After three days, his feet finally found enough purchase to allow him to let go with his fingers.

  Fu Xi listened to voices echoing in the night, a series of hacks and grunts for which he had no reference.

  Four? Perhaps five.

  No matter, they had food. He found their deep, satisfied laughter unnerving in the cold grayness.

  There were several tribes of mountain people throughout Cin, hardy stock who thrived where rock and glacier scraped sky. Perhaps these were such men, who stored meat inside glacial ice.

  He peered over the lip and looked down. A generously wide ledge spread out about twenty feet below. The firelight danced over the smooth rock, yet he still couldn’t see them.

  His mother’s words echoed in his mind. There will be no other men.

  And yet, here they were, and they possessed a fire where Fu Xi could not create one. They ate generously where Fu Xi could find no sustenance.

  Fu Xi strained to understand their words, but only heard unintelligible noises over the rain and wind.

  One of them passed gas, provoking an explosion of laughter from the rest.

  I understand that. Fu Xi chuckled, but his laugh emerged as a husky croak.

  Like a cat, Fu Xi leapt the remaining distance, landing in a crouch and facing five of the squattest, hairiest, pug-nosed fellows he’d ever laid eyes upon. Judging by their reaction they didn’t think much of Fu Xi, either.

  They stumbled backwards away from their roaring fire, deep-set, beady eyes darting about in shock. They scuttled away from Fu Xi until they bumped up against a massive brush pile, reminding Fu Xi of fat field mice seeking the protection of a haystack.

  Wrapped in goat hide from head to foot, they wore fuzzy, conical hats with long ear flaps that looked like donkey ears. Each sported dangling, oiled moustaches that looked like whips
hanging well past their chins.

  Donkey Men.

  “Nyah!” the one closest to Fu Xi screamed and dropped his wooden bowl. Thick, brown stew full of meaty chunks spilled out onto the ground.

  It then dawned on Fu Xi how he must look.

  “Excuse me, but this isn’t what it looks like.” He lifted the dagger tooth skull from his head.

  “Nyah!” The five Donkey Men screamed in unison. Judging by their petrified expressions, he might as well have removed his head.

  Fu Xi held up his hands. “I only want something to eat, and then I’ll be on my way.” It suddenly dawned on Fu Xi how short these Donkey Men where. He thought they were recessed farther back in under the ledge, but as his eyes adjusted to the firelight, he realized that the tallest barely came up to his sternum.

  The one closest to him, most likely their leader by his haughty expression, seemed to relax, understanding Fu Xi wasn’t an immediate threat. He twirled his moustaches with tiny, sausage fingers.

  “Well, my Little King, may I trouble you for a bite to eat?” Fu Xi motioned to one of the bowls and pretended to eat.

  “Ah! Nyahhh!” The Little King nodded with fresh understanding.

  He glanced back at his compatriots and pointed at Fu Xi with a sly grin. “Nyah.”

  As one, they looked at Fu Xi with equally sly grins, nodding and speaking in perfect unison. “Nyahhh!”

  Then the Little King proceeded to hold court before his rapt subjects. He spoke at length in a high, squeaky voice with great inflection and grand hand gestures, occasionally turning and bowing to Fu Xi with an irritatingly ingratiating smile, as if not wanting to appear rude to his visitor.

  To Fu Xi’s ears, he only repeated the same word, nyah, over and over. Sometimes, he barked the word and stamped his feet as if issuing commands. Other times he lowered his hands, palm down, as if making a reasonable appeal for calm.

  His subjects reacted accordingly. Occasionally, they turned to one another and nodded excitedly. A few times, they gasped in shock. More often, they appeared agitated and twisted their moustaches nervously.

  Fu Xi spoke a thousand tongues and could make sense of a thousand more. Yet, here he stood, stymied by apparent gibberish.

  Nyah? Even the Icemen’s grunts made more sense than these Donkey Men.

  While the Little King held council, Fu Xi studied the ledge.

  Wide enough for several elephants, deep enough for several horses.

  The ledge turned out to be a massive, but shallow, cave no more than twenty paces deep. The ledge’s overhang stretched high above, creating a cathedral arch vanishing into the shadows above his head. An ancient brush pile rested against the sheer cliff that served as the cave’s back wall.

  He thought what a good shelter the cave would have made for Heise.

  A loud nyah brought Fu Xi’s attention back to the speech. Finally, the Little King finished with a flourish of the wrist and a slight bow to his subjects.

  And they applauded with a jolly chorus of “Nyah!”

  Of course.

  The Little King snatched a wooden bowl from one of his subjects, not much bigger than a cup to Fu Xi, and extended it. He stretched his little arm as far as he could without stepping forward, as if Fu Xi might bite it off.

  Fu Xi bowed slightly and reached for the bowl. He then realized that the rotting smell he briefly detected came from the Donkey Men themselves, not any carcass lying about.

  The Little King’s grin widened, revealing a row of filed, needle-like teeth.

  ***

  Alone at the edge of the world and the end of a fruitless quest, I listened to the pounding surf and contemplated all I had seen. Under the stars, with only despair for companionship, I thought of the wicked cities and my failure among the Ice Men. My thoughts wandered to Tiejiang and the acolyte of Nuwa, and I knew the time had come for my wanderings to cease. The tutelage of the Tall Men had come to an end. With the rising sun, I swore to let mortal fortunes fall where they may.

  Perhaps my mother knew this. Perhaps my destiny lay elsewhere besides beloved Nushen.

  I awoke before dawn, eager to watch the sunrise and start a new life. A black form emerged from the rising sun. My heart pounded in my chest as I thought at first a dragon skimmed low over the water. As it drew closer, I rubbed my eyes, spellbound by a sight no less glorious.

  An enormous ship, more massive than a hundred elephants, with crimson sails like sunset thunderheads, upon masts higher than the tallest oaks rode a sparkling sea. Spellbound, I watched until it dropped anchor beyond the breakers. It lowered several small boats. They assaulted the breakers in a spear-tip formation, and rowed toward my bonfire.

  Dozens of creatures, which I first took as demons, swarmed onto the beach like angry red ants. Their hair was as black as mine, yet their eyes were strangely round. They wore dazzling metal armor over crimson skin.

  Wielding graceful white metal swords, they immediately set upon me. After seven of them fell under my blade, the rest withdrew to the water’s edge, chattering like angry squirrels. I instantly disliked this alien tongue. Their leader studied me with eyes like black glass. While he attempted no parley, we had come to a fundamental understanding: I knew they were not demons, and he understood I wasn’t mortal.

  They may have been mere men, but they fought magnificently, with more skill and ferocity than any in all of Cin. Their prowess and grand vessel deeply disturbed me. More troubling still, their white metal swords had seriously damaged my bronze blade.

  Sword resting between my legs, I stood between the red men and my beloved Cin and waited for them to make the next move. Then the lieutenant cautiously approached me with the hyena’s grin. I held my blade as he chattered and pointed to another boat approaching from the ship.

  Until that wonderful and terrible sliver of time fell upon me, my life had been a granite mountain where the years fell like raindrops, but washed away not the first pebble. The conqueror stepped from his boat and cast a mighty shadow across my beloved land. In him I saw the mountain, the ocean, and the sky for the first time. Upon that beach I diminished and rejoiced.

  I, Fu Xi, Lord of Cin and son of the Queen of the West, stood before another god and knew awe.

  How can I describe glory with mere ink and parchment? Even the dragon’s tongue fails to do justice to those who’ve never seen the sun.

  Obsidian skin and eyes round like harvest moons, the giant strode forward wielding a blood red sword not unlike that of the Offering Blade. His eyes, gray and sharp as winter’s first snow, captured me and held my feet firmly to the sand. He laughed as if greeting an old friend, deep and rich and bubbling with glorious power. His red armor, polished and unadorned, captured the sun’s radiance. But his shadow is what I remember most. It fell away from the rising sun, stretching and undulating across the beach until it touched me, breaking the spell.

  His laughter transformed into a war cry as he fell upon me with the blood sword. I had never encountered such an assault and fell back beneath the onslaught. Gouged and weakened from the white swords, my bronze sword proved no match for his blade. Needing to preserve its integrity for an opportune moment, I dodged and ducked, leaping away from the crimson edge.

  The Chronicle of Fu Xi

  ***

  The attack erupted with a knife in the back.

  How did they get behind me?

  With stunning speed, all five Donkey Men piled on, knives and teeth ripping and shredding his flesh, all to the sadistic chant, “Nyah!”

  Fu Xi spun about, trying to yank two of them off his back. One of them stuck him behind the knees, sending him slamming against the ground. Tiny limbs and tiny blades blurred in the firelight, penetrating hide and skin.

  Fu Xi rolled over, pinning the two who clung to his back. He endured their assaults while concentrating on the other three.

  The smallest one, possibly a woman, gnawed on his ankle like a dog, even growling while sinking her teeth into his tendons. This irritated Fu X
i to no end, so with a hard kick, he sent Dog Girl hurtling over the cliff.

  With a wet crack, he smashed together the heads of two on his chest, of which one was the Little King.

  In short order, he rolled over and snatched one off his back. Kicking and screaming, he tossed him over the cliff to join Dog Girl. A moment later, the last Donkey Man kicked and pedaled over the chasm, Fu Xi firmly clenching him by the scruff of the neck. He spit at Fu Xi and clawed at his arm with sharp, filthy nails.

  Fu Xi had seen many things in his immortal life, but he didn’t think he’d seen anything quite as sneaky and vicious as the Donkey Men.

  “What are you?”

  The Donkey Man hissed and swung with greater ferocity.

  “You’re heavier than you look. Utter one word, any word, other than nyah, and I’ll spare your life!”

  “Nyah! Nyah!” He tried to kick Fu Xi, apparently indifferent to the fact his stubby legs hovered over the abyss and certain death.

  Fu Xi let go and wiped his hands. He walked back to the fire, listening to the fading Nyahhh! echo down the canyon.

  There will be no other men, his mother had said.

  “I certainly hope there won’t be any more Donkey Men,” he laughed.

  ***

  Confident at first, the black god pressed the attack, but he grew frustrated as his sword met only air. He retreated a few paces, assessing me.

  I studied him, too, examining the red armor for gaps and weaknesses. Glorious or not, I would not accept defeat at the hands of this alien god and his red warriors.

  He became like fire and I, air. Together, we transformed into a storm of sand and spray along the beach. He employed the blood sword with a direct, unrelenting fighting style. My body became a weapon as I probed for an opening to strike with my inferior blade. My kicks and punches, powerful enough to snap the back of an ox, only served to delay his next attack.

  Such exhilaration! Such reckless, untamed power! For centuries I took my immortality for granted. Could he slay me? In my passion, I didn’t care. My blood coursed like a wild river. For the first time, I understood what mortals felt when dancing with death...Alive! For that fleeting dance upon the sunrise beach, I would have traded the previous eternity.