King of Shards

by Matthew Kressel

  The Bedu scattered like birds. At the southern flank the battle had begun. Stones flew and swords clashed with a hundred angry demons.

  Penemue, his body densely tattooed with letters, scribed an ancient and terrible word in the sand, and every person who looked upon it collapsed like a sack of grain.

  “Come, my lord!” Havig begged, tugging at Caleb. “What are you waiting for?”

  “By Sheol, aren’t they glorious?” Caleb said.

  “And no longer yours to command. Come!”

  “Yes, Havig. I think that’s wise.”

  Caleb donned the silver necklace as the Mikulalim took them from the scattered crowd. A Mikulal lofted Rana on his shoulder, and she stared blankly up at the sky.

  “Hang on, Rana,” Caleb said to her. “Just a little bit longer, and we will be free!” To Havig he said, “How many men do you have?”

  “Five hundred, my lord. More on their way.”

  “Magnificent, Havig.”

  Rahab, the sea dragon, shot steam from his nostrils, burning the flesh off of those unlucky to greet him. Shemhazai held up a mirrored scepter, entrancing those who gazed into its reflections. As they stared helplessly, he crushed their heads with the scepter’s heavy blow.

  The Bedu assaulted the invaders with swords, stones, and spells. Fools! They might as well have tried to topple a mountain with a hammer.

  Bedu magicians tossed balls of green fire from their hands. Kokabiel swatted the vortices away as if they were gadflies. The balls exploded into sparks like shattered universes.

  A gargantuan dune rose in the south, much out of sync with the natural ones. It hoisted five hundred men above the desert. The wave broke suddenly, burying the men under tons of sand, and sending others tumbling to their deaths. The wave rumbled beneath Caleb, and he stumbled as it lofted them high above the desert. From this view, the Legion seemed to cover the whole desert. Tens of thousands of demons, ready for battle. But where was their queen?

  As they ran from the fighting, a Bedu soldier shouted to Caleb, “Priest! We need your healing! We have set up a triage by the—” The man saw the Mikulalim, and his mouth fell open.

  They strode past him. The ground fell rapidly, and they dove into a valley. Ahead floated the jeweled palanquin skate that held the Holy Corpus of Goddess Mollai. They ran for it as Klothod flew overhead and plucked a screaming woman from the ground and swallowed her whole. Klothod could have plucked Daniel and Caleb just as easily, but Azazel’s pendants hid them from their gaze.

  Ten soldiers guarded the Holy Corpus, but Caleb had forty Mikulalim. The Bedu threw down their swords and raised their arms.

  Havig eyed Caleb. Let me avenge my brothers, he said in the silent language.

  Caleb nodded, and swiftly the Mikulalim slayed all the guards.

  “No!” Daniel cried. “Damn you, Caleb, they surrendered!”

  “As did my brothers,” Havig said. “But the Bedu let them burn in the sun. Ten for ten. Now the debt is paid.” He flung open the palanquin doors and the Holy Corpus blinded them with its gilded reflections. But the Corpus was not alone. Several priests cowered inside like frightened kittens. They smelled of piss and shit as they prayed to their absent god. Elyam quailed with them.

  “Mollai protect us!” they said, grasping each other.

  Havig lifted his sword and stepped inside.

  “Keep the priests alive,” Caleb said. “We need them.” He counted six as he stepped in, waving Marul and Daniel inside. Daniel looked back at the raging battle, frowned, then climbed inside. The Mikulalim placed Rana on the floor. Her eyes had stopped fluttering. Caleb dared not look at her. He did not want to know if she were dead.

  Havig and five Mikulalim joined them in the palanquin, crowding the small space. The Mikulalim closed the doors, plunging them into darkness.

  “Woe is us!” Elyam said. “Cursed ones beside the holy Corpus! Oh, Blessed Mollai, forgive us.”

  Light bloomed in the dark. A lick of red-orange flame floated above Havig’s palm as he and the Mikulalim hummed a singsong spell.

  “Stop!” Elyam squealed. “Stop your demonsong!” The priests covered their ears. The palanquin skate slammed hard into sand, and everyone stumbled.

  The walls became translucent, like smoky glass, as the battle raged outside the walls. They sat on the sands that crept ever closer to the southern flank. Soon they would drift right into the arms of the Legion. Havig closed his palm and the flame winked out.

  “Grab hands,” Havig said. “You too, priests!”

  “I’ll not touch an abomination,” Elyam whimpered.

  “Grab my hand,” Havig said, “or the hands of that demon army. Which shall it be?”

  “Oh, dear Goddess,” Elyam said. Grimacing, he took Havig’s hand.

  The priests and Mikulalim joined hands in a circle around the Holy Corpus. Havig closed his eyes, and the Mikulalim joined him. The walls buzzed and rattled as they slowly rose from the ground. But a moment later, they crashed to the sand, and the Holy Corpus slammed against the wall, making a dent.

  “Why can’t we fly?” Caleb said.

  “Not enough power, my lord!” Havig said.

  “We cast shields over the Holy Corpus,” Elyam said. “We have little power left.”

  “Your life is in danger and you protect a corpse?” Caleb said. “Marul, can you help?”

  Marul was busy removing the gag from Rana’s mouth. Rana moved her lips.

  Caleb allowed himself a sigh. Rana was alive!

  Daniel crouched beside Rana, helping Marul make her more comfortable.

  “Marul!” Caleb shouted. “Now or never!” She nodded, then got up to join the circle. They started the spell again. This time they floated a bit higher before they crashed. The battle raged closer. They were less than a minute from the front now.

  “We’re too heavy,” Elyam said. “We don’t have enough power.”

  “Then we lighten the load,” Caleb said. He flung open the doors, and the sun shone in. The Mikulalim winced and turned away from the light. With one great heave Caleb shoved the gilded Corpus out the door.

  “Goddess, no!” the priests cried as the Holy Corpus tumbled onto the sand, flashing in the sun. The lid slid off to reveal the desiccated corpse inside. Long gray hair, flaky skin, hollow eyes. The body had once belonged to a girl, her mind obliterated so that Mollai could use it for her own pleasure. The priests shrieked as Caleb yanked the doors closed.

  “Blasphemy!” one shouted.

  “Necessity,” Caleb said. “Now try your spell again.”

  The Mikulalim grabbed hands, but the priests shook their heads.

  “Do it or we’ll all die!”

  Trembling, weeping, the priests joined hands. This time they remained hovering. Slowly, they floated eastward, then south, toward the Legion.

  “Fools!” Caleb said. “The other way!”

  They wobbled as they turned, zigzagging roughly north. Through the translucent walls the battle continued. To the east, three hundred Bedu were struck dead by Alath’s breath. Fires burned in the south, choking the sky with oily smoke. In the west, Hephesimireth the snake devoured fleeing children by coming up from beneath. The Bedu, a people three millennia old, would not live through the hour.

  “Es per shemp Bedu,” Caleb said.

  As they moved from the battle, Havig said, “My lord, I’ve ordered my men to take the other palanquins and flee in many directions. It will not be easy for them to know which one you are in.”

  “Havig, you are loyal like none other. You shall be rewarded.”

  He bowed his head.

  “Rana’s dying,” Daniel said, cradling her head. He gave her water from a bladder. “You’re magicians! Can any of you help?”

  With a gesture from Caleb, a Mikulal broke the circle. The palanquin tumbled for an instant until they moved to close the gap. The Mikulal showed Caleb a small phial from his belt.

  “We expected injuries,” he said. “We brought the greyel wine.
But we don’t have much—”

  “Give it to her, now!” Caleb said.

  While Daniel held her head, the Mikulal poured the viscous black fluid into her mouth. She blinked and groaned.

  “She’s been gagged with a spell,” the Mikulal said. “But it’s fading. She’ll need time to recover.”

  “My brothers and sisters are no more,” Elyam said, staring at the receding battle. “My house is dust. The Bedu are no more.”

  “A true shame,” Havig said.

  Caleb laughed.

  “No, my lord. I am sincere. I regret the Bedu’s passing.”

  “Havig,” Caleb said. “You surprise me. Do you really care what happens to the Bedu?”

  “A long time ago, my lord,” Havig said, “we were kin. I’d always hoped one day we would be kin again.”

  “Yes,” Caleb said, “you and the Bedu would make one large, happy family.”

  He heard a grunt, and turned. And there stood Rana, diving for him. The sword in her hand—where had it come from?—plunged deep into his belly, and he cried out.

  “It’s over,” she said hoarsely, twisting the blade. “The beast is done.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Rana twisted the sword inside the demon’s belly, and she savored the horrified look in his eyes. Havig leaped from the circle, and with a swift motion flung her sword to the floor. He held his blade to her throat.

  She lifted her chin and spread her arms wide. “Do it,” she said. “Kill me!”

  “My lord,” Havig said, eyes on Rana. “Are you gravely wounded?” The palanquin bobbed as a Mikulal moved to close the broken circle. The tip of Havig’s blade pressed hotly against Rana’s neck.

  Caleb lay on the floor, bleeding, his back against the wall. He held his stomach and gazed at his wound. “The human form is so . . . fragile, Havig.” He coughed, and his white priest’s habit slowly turned red. He turned to the Mikulal who’d given Rana the greyel wine and said, “How did you let her get your sword, fool?”

  “My lord, I—”

  “Never mind! Give me your phial. Hurry!”

  He ran to Caleb and was about to pour the black syrup into his mouth before Caleb snatched the phial and swallowed it all.

  “But, my lord, that’s all we have!”

  “If I die,” Caleb said, “then you’re all dead too.”

  Rana squeezed her fists until she thought her palms might bleed. So damned arrogant! So damned self-righteous! She took a deep breath and prepared to sing him back to hell.

  Havig said, “Hum a note, Rana, and I’ll make myself a harp from your vocal chords.”

  She lifted the pendant from her neck and showed it to Havig. “And what of this?” Her voice was raspy, remnants from the Bedu spell, the sandstorm. “You gave me this necklace, remember? You love my voice.”

  “I love my king more.”

  “Why?” Rana said. “You are his chisel. He hammers you for years and tosses you away when you grow dull.”

  “Lord Ashmedai has given the Mikulalim more than any other.”

  “You are deluded. He won your people in a bet. He has your mind in a cage. You are his puppets, his dancing dolls!”

  Havig threw back his hood, and his hollow eyes glowed like dying suns. “He gives us purpose in a meaningless universe.”

  “And what a woeful purpose that is.”

  “Before Lord Ashmedai,” Havig said, “we were mere beasts, hiding in shadows, surviving on scraps. The nomads slaughtered us. The cities hunted us. But under Lord Ashmedai’s rule, we became a mighty nation, countless in number.”

  “And how long before your king grows tired of you and throws you into the sun?” She shook her head. “This is useless. You are under a spell. You’ll never see.” A wave of despair consumed her. “It is all useless.” She yanked off her chain and threw it to the floor, where it rolled to a stop at Caleb’s feet.

  “Rana,” Caleb said. His wound was deep. Even with the greyel potion he still coughed up blood. “I don’t understand why you loathe me so.” He wiped fluid from his mouth. “Hear me for a moment. If after, you still want to kill me, I’ll order Havig to give you his sword.”

  “My lord?” Havig said.

  “Havig, it is my wish.”

  Rana stared at him. What clever trick was this?

  “You hate me,” he said, “because you blame me for all you’ve lost.”

  She shuddered. “If not for you, none of this would have happened.”

  “But is it because of me?”

  “Who else?”

  “Mashit is destroying the Lamed Vav, but I have saved Daniel from her. And I want to protect the other Lamed Vav too. Her actions will destroy Earth and all the Shards. But I want to stop her. The Legion, under Mashit’s command, has destroyed Azru. Remember how we fled from your city like a thief? What harm did I wish Azru then? Her minions murdered your parents. But I hid from your parents in your studio. I am not the one whom you should hate!”

  “But the Legion followed you!” she said. “You knew they’d come after you, after Daniel. You brought them here. And for that you carry the blame.”

  “If we must cast blame, then let’s gaze more deeply at the facts. Has your beloved Marul Menacha told you yet why I imprisoned her?”

  “Because you’re a cruel demon.”

  “If only it were that simple. I imprisoned her, Rana, because she betrayed all of us. The Lamed Vav have remained hidden for millennia—”

  “Caleb!” Marul said. “Please, I beg you. Don’t.”

  Marul gave Rana such a weighted, pained look that Rana had to turn away.

  “How do you think Mashit knows where to find the Lamed Vav?” Caleb said. “Many years ago, a powerful, aging witch lived on Earth in a city called Shanghai. There she discovered a secret that few have ever known. She found the names of the Hidden Righteous Ones, the Pillars of the Kuurku, the Lamed Vav. She knew how valuable this information was, and so she offered the list to demons in exchange for permanent youth.”

  Marul had closed her eyes. Why wasn’t she denying this? Why wasn’t Marul accusing Caleb of lies?

  “Yes, that witch was Marul Menacha,” Caleb said. “If we must cast blame, one should look no further than your beloved friend. She sold out the Cosmos for the promise of immortality. She gave Mashit the names of the Lamed Vav—only six names—and promised the others when her youth was restored. But her rank stupidity has put the whole Cosmos in danger. To protect us all, I hid Marul away in the cave, and I told Mashit that her delusional fantasies would get us all killed. And for this act I was stripped of my throne, tortured publically, drained of power, and exiled from Sheol.”

  Rana was trembling. Marul still had not denied any of this. “Marul,” she said, “tell me he speaks a bushel of lies.”

  Many moments passed. “I was getting old,” Marul said, her voice small. “My back ached, my feet hurt, my eyes were growing poor. My powers were fading with my body. I was searching for ways to help Gehinnom, and I thought if I extended my life, I could continue the search indefinitely.”

  “Do not mock Rana with more falsehoods,” Caleb said. “You’d given up your quest years before you made the offer to Mashit. You were using magic to seduce, and little else. You wanted to stay young only to continue indulging your perversions.”

  “I knew I was weak even then,” Marul said. “Corrupted. I thought if I were in a young body again, just as how the Goddess changes each time she takes on a new body, I might find the strength to help Gehinnom. I thought I could be a goddess too.”

  “You were a goddess,” Rana said. “To me.”

  “I know.”

  “Look at me,” Rana said. “Open your damn eyes and look at me!”

  Marul’s sullen gaze found Rana. The corners of her mouth curved down with infinities of regret. But her eyes glimmered with the same warmth Rana had once coveted more than her own mother.

  “Did you know this would happen?” Rana said as she gestured toward the dese
rt, the decimated cities, the teetering Cosmos. “Did you know that everyone would suffer if you told Mashit how to find the Lamed Vav? That my parents would die? That I might die? That we all might soon die?”

  She shook her head. “No! I never planned to give her all the names. Only six.”

  “Killing six,” Caleb said, “is enough to collapse the Kuurku and destroy Earth.”

  “Great Giver of Rain . . .” Rana said as she stumbled back against the wall.

  “Rana, in my years locked in that cave I did nothing but think,” she said. “I have seen the errors of my ways ten thousand times.”

  “But it’s too late,” said Rana. “You’ve already told Mashit. Dear Goddess, I thought you were somebody else.”

  Marul sighed, a distant wind across a forgotten plain. “Rana, I had always wanted to be that woman. But you were too smart. I knew that if I stayed too long, you would discover who I was. That’s why I always left, after a time. Better to have a beautiful fantasy than a bleak truth.”

  “There, Rana, do you see?” Caleb said, coughing blood into a rag.

  “Yes,” Rana said, sliding to the floor. “I see it all.”

  With a nod from Caleb, Havig sheathed his sword and rejoined the circle, and the palanquin sped on with renewed certainty. Caleb’s wound still bled, while her abrasions sloughed off like dead skin. Underneath were fresh, baby-like patches of new skin. It reminded her of Liu. How many parasot away was her sister now, in body or in spirit?

  They traveled over a thousand dunes, while the priests murmured and the wind tumbled over endless seas of dust. The sun touched the horizon, and the sky turned as red as molten glass. Every so often, she gazed at Marul, hoping this was some kind of cruel joke.

  My parents, she thought, are dead because of her!

  A long time ago Rana would leap with joy whenever Marul sprang unannounced into her house bearing gifts from far-off kingdoms. Marul would regale her and her parents with tales of handsome princes, queens who ruled by magic, and violent demons older than time. And after a meal of laughter and suspense, Marul and Rana would walk along the twilit streets of Azru, where under Marul’s careful eye every crevice blossomed with mysteries.

  “Do you see that curved sigil there?” Marul said as they rounded Seamstress Row one moonless night, when the stars were as numerous as grains of sand. “That sandworn one, carved into the cornerstone? That’s the mark of Beor, a king who ruled this city when it was called Dinhabah.”