I saw a red flare of energy from the corner of my eye and risked a glance in time to see Lamashtu wielding a whip of fire. Dabir struck this with his spear. The flame blasted into a rain of sparks, and the sorceress screeched furiously.
Enkidu had triumphed at last over the snake and, holding its tail, lashed its long broken body at the sorceress. She stepped away, but two of her remaining minions were not as agile, and they went sprawling.
Enkidu jumped and landed hard on a nearby beast-man. He grinned at us. His farr was mostly blue and silver.
“Good!” he shouted, laughing. “We shall win this!”
On came the wooden warriors. Up rose the beast-men I had downed, no matter their horrifying wounds. They slunk to the sides, away from me, and I knew they waited until we were distracted. From far behind came a man’s voice raised in a roar of fury and then a string of odd syllables. Two of the nearest beast-men disintegrated in a rain of ash. The others cried out and pulled away.
“Erragal!” Enkidu said with relief.
On my right I saw Lamashtu raise up another whip of flame. Enkidu tossed one of her lackeys at her.
Behind us, Erragal and Lydia had stepped forth from the doorway. His farr blazed with a riot of colors stronger than any others. Lydia unleased a trio of howling ghosts that came surging toward Lamashtu.
This apparently was enough for the death mother, who sneered something in disgust and winked out of existence. The handful of remaining well-dressed beast-men vaulted away over the tumbled walls.
This left only the wooden men Koury had sent forth, which were now returning to him. Lydia’s spirit creatures soared after.
“What are you doing here?” Erragal asked us. We were but ten paces apart, and he had taken a step toward us when snow women flowed forth from the walls all around, dozens upon dozens of them. I started to brace myself for attack when I realized that they didn’t mean any harm at all. They and the beautiful white animal spirits with them were friends.
I couldn’t understand why Erragal and Lydia looked so upset as a giant wolf loped up to greet them, or why they lashed the spirit elephants with magical fire. They had not come to overwhelm, but to welcome.
“Fight, Asim!” Dabir urged.
I felt Enkidu’s comforting hand on my shoulder. He stepped toward Dabir.
Erragal’s robed skeleton, suddenly there beside its master, tossed down Lydia’s carpet, which she kicked open. I did not know why Dabir looked so horrified when I smiled at him, nor why he lobbed the spear toward the retreating pair with both hands, as though he were tossing a log. I saw it fly, dreamlike, its glow fading. It passed through the snow women crowding toward Lydia and Erragal, leaving only fragments of drifting frost.
I watched as the elder Sebitti leaned from the rising carpet and caught the spear. The huge white wolf snapped playfully at the carpet as it flew up and out, the spear still dangling from Erragal’s hands, and then all cares left me and I relaxed in the companionship of my most excellent friend Enkidu.
17
Enkidu himself took my club, and we marched obediently with him through the ruins as the black night gave way to dawn. On their eastern edge we came upon a force of Khazars, many of whom were busily erecting tents in the pale, chill air. The wind brought me the scent of horses and the bawling complaints of a variety of animals.
It was a camp for a small army of Khazars. We two followed Enkidu beyond their line of fur-clad sentries. The snow women had drifted away or wandered off—because of my own altered state I paid them no mind.
I don’t remember feeling especially worried about the Khazars, even though the numbers impressed me. “There must be a thousand or more of them,” I said to Dabir.
He did not respond.
I had heard that Khazar women sometimes rode to war at the side of their men, and as we passed deeper into the camp we saw some of these female warriors tending gear and standing about the fires. They considered us with fierce ice-blue eyes, and I sensed that they would kill us, joyously, on the instant if given the word.
Finally we came to a huge round tent fashioned of animal hides. I had seen smoke curling from the openings at the peaked roofs of other tents, but none rose from this one. Two huge warriors, hulking in their dark furred robes, stood before its entrance. They bowed their heads to Enkidu and held the tent flap open for us.
Inside was a gloomy space hung with colored curtains and floored with many rugs. I realized that other parts of the tent must be sectioned off by the curtains into separate chambers, for the tent was much larger than this single area. It was very cold within, and while there was a brazier, I had the sense it was more for light than warmth. It threw twisted shadows on the fabric walls.
And then my breath caught in my throat, and my heart raced like a rabbit’s.
Beyond the brazier, in front of three kneeling Khazars, Najya sat upon a slim chair. Her hair was unbound and hung back in a cascade. She was garbed now in a brown dress with yellow diamonds, and it was of curious style, for while it was formfitting about her waist, it was flowing below, and had long sleeves that tightly sheathed her arms.
And her eyes were blue, a bright, piercing blue that glowed from within. At sight of that, the joy that had thoughtlessly leapt forward at sight of her fell suddenly, like a gazelle struck dead in midgallop.
Enkidu went down on one knee before her, and his influence fell away. I stood blinking as the reality of what had happened washed suddenly over me. I was aware then of great fatigue, and anger that Dabir and I both had been manipulated.
The Khazars sitting before Najya grew agitated and rose, pointing to us. I recognized one of them as the woman we’d encountered in the frozen village north of Harran.
Guards strode forward, hands to weapons.
“Down,” Dabir said to me, and dropped to his knees. I was a moment too late, for the Khazar warriors arrived to point insistently at the ground in front of me, and one put a hand to my shoulder.
Almost I knocked his fingers away and drew, but I fought the impulse and did as I was ordered, even if I did not understand the words they spat.
After a short while Najya spoke to us. “You may rise.” Her voice was commanding, calm, but with nothing of its usual warmth.
Enkidu stepped to our side and showed the club he had taken from me. “As you foretold, so has it come to pass.”
At this Najya smiled coolly. She spoke to the trio nearest her. “I am done with all of you except Bersbek.”
They rose and bowed, backing away from her. The Khazar woman smiled at me, short, thick, but clear-eyed, with a weathered complexion. Her male counterparts stared as they left us. They were garbed like all the Khazars—leather and fur, mostly—but were lean where the others were thick, and wore necklaces heavy with clanking symbols, bird claws, and what might have been mummified fingers. They were red-haired, a peculiarity of many in their race. A strange sweetness clung to them as they passed. I know it was not soaps, for they reeked of unwashed flesh.
“Where is the spear?” Najya asked Enkidu.
“This one,” he gestured to Dabir, “passed it over to Erragal, who escaped. I am sorry, Daughter.”
At the look on Najya’s face it was easier to think of her as someone else, for her lip curled as she frowned. After a moment, though, her expression cleared, and she eased back. “We have dreamed that Asim will once more wield the club in a great battle, in our presence, when we seek the spear. We shall have both of them at that time.”
“‘We’?” Dabir asked. “Not ‘I’? Are you one now, spirit and Najya?”
Enkidu and the round shaman woman, Bersbek, looked over at him, then at Najya, as if they expected to hear a reprimand, or an order to strike him for speaking out of turn.
But no such order came. “I cannot be rid of her,” Najya’s voice answered. “Her thoughts are useful to me, for she knows things that I do not.” She turned her lovely face to the Sebitti. “Enkidu, take their swords, for these two are crafty.”
“This will I do, Daughter. But, if you will forgive me, what further use will they serve?”
“They have used the bone weapons.” Najya frowned slightly. “Do you know how to unlock their secrets?”
“No, Daughter,” Enkidu admitted.
“I can master the secrets, O Daughter of the Frost,” Bersbek declared, fervently bobbing her head. Her accent was thick, her voice harsh, though somehow compelling.
“So you claim.” She calmly considered the shaman, who smiled almost stupidly in her eagerness. “You may study them here, with me. If you fail, I will learn the secrets from Dabir and Asim.”
“I can command them to tell you the secrets now,” Enkidu offered.
“No.” Najya’s voice was sharp.
“But they are foes,” Enkidu said. “Let us take the information from them, and be done.”
Najya scowled. “How is Asim later to wield the club if I slay him now?”
“Forgive me.” Enkidu hesitated. “Is it possible that the mortal form you wear interferes with your judgment?”
“Do not question me! They must be kept alive. Take Dabir from me. Asim remains. Bersbek, take the club into the treasure chamber and study it.”
I tensed, ready to battle. But I could offer no challenge, for Enkidu cowed us with such force that we allowed our swords to be removed without reaction. Dabir managed to look concerned as Enkidu guided him out.
Soon we were alone, Najya and I, save for two thickly built Khazar guards at either side of the threshold. Najya stood and then circled me slowly, as though she inspected me at the market.
I had thought over and again what I might say should I once more be in Najya’s presence, yet now I found nothing clever upon my lips. “I know that Najya is still there—I want to talk to her.”
“We are one.” Her voice was cool as steel in the snow. She stopped in front of me and peered up with merciless eyes. “Do you like what you see?”
Oh, sweet agony. I found myself speaking the truth, at least in part. “Aye, my heart still speeds at sight of you, and my breath catches at the sound of your voice.”
Her reply was a long time in coming. “This pleases me,” she said at last, and drew nearer. Her speech was hesitant. “It is strange. When you speak to me, I listen with more than my ears. The whole of this body is focused upon your intent. It is interesting, and somehow pleasant, and occurs when none of these others talk.” She paused. “I know all of these reactions come solely because the woman is drawn to you. But this form is useful to me; without it I could not command the allegiance of my followers. And the sensations this body provides interest me as well, and they do no harm.”
“I see.” A smile rose, unbidden, then faltered as I stared into eyes that should have been a rich brown and instead were ever-shifting shades of blue.
“I have a surprise for you. Come.” She lifted a canvas flap and passed into another section of the tent. I followed to find a chamber set with cushions and fur pelts, and, at its far end, a grisly ornament.
“What do you think?” Najya asked, as though she had just returned from the market with an especially choice selection of cloths.
It was a great block of ice, and frozen in its center was Koury. He stood tall and straight, defiant, though his last expression had been one of shock.
I stared through the ice at the dead man not because of any real fascination, but because I was not at all sure what I would say.
“I know how much he angered you. He lied to me,” she said with venom, “and he killed my husband. The woman’s husband,” she corrected quickly.
What do you say when your love has presented you with a cold corpse? “How long do you intend to leave him like this?” I asked.
“Forever, I think. He shall stand as warning and reminder to all who would oppose me. I thought you would be more pleased,” she said, watching my reaction.
“I am very happy,” I lied. Even I knew how badly I lied.
She stepped close. “The woman has wondered what it would be like, and I am curious. You will kiss me.”
I do not think I would have hesitated so long, under normal circumstances. Her lips were cold, her manner stiff at first, but she relaxed after a moment and I felt her arms go up around my neck. My own slid down to clasp her waist.
After a time she pulled back. Over her shoulder dead Koury’s eyes stared at me, lopsided and magnified through the ice.
“Oh,” she breathed, “that was very nice.”
It was then I noticed Najya’s own eyes were warmer, not quite so bright. And her manner was somehow more animated. “Is something wrong?” She sounded, now, beyond merely curious, as though she actually cared about my reaction.
All sorts of things were wrong, of course, not the least of which was the frozen curio that faced me. But I was not so foolish that I failed to discern the difference in her eye color meant Najya’s influence was waxing. I thought of what I might say or do to strengthen it further.
I took her hand, and she started in surprise. Her fingers were cold, cold as dead Koury’s prison.
“You have your revenge,” I said. “He wronged you, and he has died.” I took up her other hand. I felt her flesh warming to my touch, and as her eyes searched mine I found more and more brown within their depths. “Now put these other things from you. Leave this place. Come away with me.”
Her brows wrinkled in bewilderment as I dropped to one knee, so that I would not stand above her.
“Forgive me,” I said, “for I do not know how it is done among Persians. But I will ask your hand of you, and of your family. Aye, I would journey to ask it of the old man in the mountain if that is what I must do to have you betrothed to me. I am but a soldier, but one who has risen far, so I do not think that they would be ashamed for you to be with me.”
“They would not,” she said softly. Her hands trembled in mine.
I forgot all around me. “I do not know if you need only the months and days prescribed by the Holy Koran, or if your people demand more time to properly mourn, but I shall wait however long so that I might have you always in my home, for you dwell already within my heart.”
“Asim.” My name fell from her lips as low as a word whispered in a dream, and I knew then that she loved me, and that I had her, safe.
“Leave this place,” I said, “and this madness.”
“Madness?” Her voice was suddenly sharp.
I climbed to my feet, and she seemed momentarily thunderstruck, as if I had dazed her. I thought, then, that she and the spirit warred. Her eyes glowed, then faded, and she shook her head.
“Najya, you’re still there!” I squeezed her hands, desperate to retain my connection to her. “I see it in your face, no matter your unearthly eyes! You aren’t a monster. You cannot want this—”
“I do what I please,” she said, and as her own hands tightened I felt heat and life and strength failing me as if I had been dealt a hard blow. Her eyes blazed blue as I sank to my knees. She bent with me, still holding on, relinquishing me at last so that I knelt shivering at her feet. “You may return when you wish to apologize,” she spat. “Go!”
She spoke to the Khazars, ordering them to guide me, but to spread word that I had her leave to walk free so long as I did not venture beyond the sentry lines. As I rose on shaking legs, one led me out into what had transformed into a double lane of tents, for the Khazars had worked swiftly. We walked only a bowshot away, to one with sentinels, and there my guard held conversation with the two on duty, pointing at me. He spoke to me in halting Arabic. “The daughter … gives you free walk … in camp. You. Not the man inside. Leave camp and die.” Then one of them cast the tent flap aside and motioned me in.
I bowed my head to him—what else was I to do?—and I entered.
Dabir waited within, walking back and forth across richly brocaded carpets spread around a fire pit. He turned and exhaled at sight of me, looking relieved. He then asked if I was hungry, and swept a hand toward platters laid near the cent
ral fire. On it were bowls of cheeses and dried meats, but I had no hunger. I was thirsty, though, and I reached for a squat jug and lifted up a bowl.
“I’m not sure you’ll want that,” Dabir told me.
“What is it?”
“Mare’s milk. Fermented.”
I brought it up to my nose and discovered the scent profoundly sour.
“Allah! Do they mean to sicken us?”
“No, this is what they drink.”
“Why?” I asked.
“To get drunk. I do not know why Allah could not have forbidden the drinking of this—perhaps God assumed we would have better sense. Now, what happened?”
I proceeded then to tell him all that had transpired. I grew more dejected as I spoke, and sank down finally beside the fire. “I almost had her, Dabir. I had her at the forefront. I could even see it in her eyes.”
At this he grimaced sympathetically. He started to say something, then paused and looked over his shoulder at the entrance, for we heard the approach of men without.
Someone called “Easy!” and there were various grunts, as of men shifting some heavy burden. We both stood as the tent flap was held open and bright light beamed into the chamber, along with a blast of cold air. A single hairy face peered in at us, then got out of the way as turbanless men bore a glistening burden, carting the thing at their waists. So large was the object that it took some six straining Persians and Arabs, all tightly clustered about one another, to carry it into our tent. They took only a few small steps at a time, coaxed all the while by a short Khazar man with a huge nose, who provided helpful nuggets of advice like “Steady” and “Watch your step.”
He flashed us an evil smile. “Set him here.” He pointed to a spot beside Dabir, several paces from the fire in the tent’s center.
The laborers slowly maneuvered toward Dabir, who stepped away, though he watched, fascinated.
“Upright, set it up,” called the bulbous-nosed spokesman, but his charges were already tilting their burden, and it was then that I understood what they carried, for I had caught a glimpse of Koury’s hair within the ice.
The Bones of the Old Ones (Dabir and Asim) Page 25