'I had hoped to know my roots,' he said. 'To know what I came from, to know what it is that I'll be. Every time it happens, it scares me. It's like there's this monster of great, terrible power in me, and when it wakes, it surges to the surface, tearing through me — I can't stop it, I can't; I don't even know what it is. If it is me, or if I will become it.'
'Well that sounds like puberty.' Rollond didn't know how to be helpful with these types of things.
'Mmhn…' Ashenzsi didn't find him funny.
'Look, if I can help you find your people, I will. Do you have any idea where you're from?'
'They used to wrap me in this, said it was from my mother.'
Rolland struggled to visualize what Ashenzsi was showing him. It was a cloth — a cloak and hood, sleeved, long, old. It was crimson and black, but on the back of it, there was a gold and copper symbol. The mark was extremely familiar, the same one he had seen since as far back as he could remember. That mark was everywhere, and yet, designated a specific place.
It was the mark of Nexus, the composite symbol of the forty-four tribes, with the insignia of the forty-fifth as the center, what unified them all.
How odd.
'I see,' Rollond said.
'You can help?'
'It's something I'll have to look into. Hang in here with me for now.'
'You promise me?'
'When have I let you down?' Rollond asked rhetorically.'In fact, I'll take you with me. Let me finish my word with these people, and as soon as I have Fylus's head on a stick, I'm dragging you back to my place, where you're doomed to find out something related to what you've shown me.'
Ashenzsi grinned.
'And if that ain't enough to spank your monkey to, I'll do you one more.' Rollond sprawled on his bed and watched Ashenzsi. He settled down, as So'yi climbed onto his side, and turned around in circles, patting him. Then she laid down, and curled up like a sharr. Eventually he rolled onto his back, and she had to do her pat-down ritual on his stomach.
As for the man, sleep didn't visit Rollond at all. He was lax, but wide awake. The image of that coat bugged him. What did it mean? Ashenzsi was an Alekzandryan, sure. But the symbol on the back of the coat implied that Ashenzsi's mother had something to do with the Neisam. The Neisam, who was his mother — Rollond's mother, Mylisto.
But Ashenzsi didn't look anything like her. Neither did Rollond, as far as that goes. Maybe he was adopted — maybe they both were adopted. Or, possibly, Rollond was adopted and Ashenzsi, really, was what his mother wanted to cover up, because, you know, she was having sex with Anileon, and Anileon wasn't human to begin with! That — was a disturbing mental image Rollond didn't appreciate. He could fathom his mother naked, it wasn't that difficult. Besides, first thing everyone comes into contact with is a woman's vagina —
Eugh! What was he thinking!?
… Do Tyihas have vaginas? Like the kind Women have?
By dawn, he determined, that all he wanted to see, was a tyiha's sex.
It was too late for sleep. He rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling, but the dreadlocked mane of one of the Elder Kojas caught his attention.
He strode past Rollond to Ashenzsi, and whacked him on the head with a wet rag. Ashenzsi jolted upright, and the old koja motioned for him to come.
"Wait, what's going on?" Rollond sat up. "Where are you taking him —"
The koja's raised hand hushed Rollond. "This does not concern you," he said, as he held the curtain open, waiting expectantly for Ashenzsi to go through.
Ashenzsi furrowed his brows and gave Rollond an uncertain, insecure glance. Had he done something wrong?
"Don't worry, you'll be fine," Rollond said. "You know how to find me."
What reassurance the man's words offered him was very little in comparison to how he felt. The cool breeze was still flowing over the plateau inside the mountain, and there wasn't a soul to be seen. They took Ashenzsi into the lowest mesa; deep into the belly of the plateau, where the only light that pushed back the dark was from a torch.
The air was thick, and difficult to breathe the farther down they went. Until, finally, where water trickled down in several places, there stood Tshoka, and with her were several Ouraihanns and Uutaijens — the Sealed-girls and the Seedling-boys. These with Tshoka were grown, as complete as full adults can be. But by their titles, they were acknowledged as being no different than adolescents.
"I hear reports of you," Tschoka said. "The great Aelyth that broke the desert and shred the sky, it was you?"
He nodded. "Tsche."
"Then you know why you are here."
He didn't offer a response. He just stared at his feet, his ears splayed back. It wasn't a joyous occasion, even though he had heard gayly stories of what happens to certain ones chosen, because he wasn't sure of himself. Prior to now, he always thought he'd settle in a Commune and come to be worthy of a great owner.
Finally, he shook his head.
"Such potency does not belong in the hands of a single owner. So we have convened," Tshoka said, as she circled around him, "to remove the obligation to yourself so as to become Priceless." She stopped in front of him and stared into his downcast, absent gaze.
There were two ways to view her statement. He could take it as an honor, or for what it really was.
His skin crawled.
The morning sun was just passing out of dawn when he reemerged from the mesa. He went home. Rollond was out, probably tackling another warehouse. Ashenzsi fell onto the bed. He closed his eyes and wouldn't rouse, even when So'yi ran circles around him, squealing, flailing her arms in the air.
She hopped on top of his head and nip-tugged his ear. She wanted to play with him. But when she couldn't get him to budge, she sat on the back of his neck.
"Su'u batzuh," he murmured. "Forgive me, So'yi, I do not feel well." He pulled the robe over his head, to hide his watery eyes. She curled up beside him, and he quietly sobbed.
"Tsche au?" Tschorra said, poking his head into Ashenzsi and Rollond's home. When he saw Ashenzsi, he trotted onto the bed and sat down. "The first time is always the worst."
"What knowledge do you have?" Ashenzsi seethed.
"A lot." Tschorra scratched his chest. "I used to be an Uutaijen." He glanced sideways at Ashenzsi, who lifted his head and perked his ears. "The fact that you are distraught over it shows that you will not be wasted."
"Wasted?" Ashenzsi sat up. "They gather together to rip my hopes from my heart, and you tell me that my pain because of this proves that I will not be 'wasted'? I didn't ask to be a worthless boy all my life!"
Tschorra bobbed his head. "It is understandable," he said, calmly, unaffected by Ashenzsi's outburst. "But look outside among the Kojas, and tell me that you do not see: they shudder in ecstasy over having been bought, but beyond that remain just as they were at the beginning of their lives. They grow old and complacent, fattened with their days; going nowhere; asking noting; discovering nothing; learning no new things; hearing no new legends to take with them on their travels. You look and see, so as to tell me that is the life you want."
Ashenzsi scoffed.
"We have not stolen your dreams, or broken your heart. Only your virginity," he said, "so that no one can mistakenly mark you less than what you really are worth. Now stop being sorry for yourself and come."
Ashenzsi narrowed his eyes, as he crawled off the bed, and kept his body low to the ground. It was an abject moment, as Ashenzsi bared his teeth. "No," he snarled, "get out." The air crackled and popped. Tendrils of Ashenzsi's stringy mane rose, as his eyes smoldered.
Tschorra arched his brows. The air had the distinct scent of wet dirt and storms. The walls were precipitating. And as Ashenzsi growled, the rolling, tumultuous sound of thunder reverberated off of the makeshift mud-brick-and-clay-mortar walls.
Ashenzsi gagged, and long, red-purple sparks flashed out of his mouth. He spewed them onto the floor, and these carved rills into the stone; fiercely hot lines of magma, that turned dar
kened, dirty crystal as they cooled.
Tschorra backed out. Ashenzsi crept towards him, hissing lowly, maliciously. He arched his back, and his body stretched — even his neck, as his face went from a man-like shape to something with a long snout and a maw stocked with monolithic, serrated fangs. The hands he crept on became paws bearing dense, heavy, hook-like talons on the ends of long, powerful fingers.
"Shenzsi!" So'yi screamed. She jumped in front of his growing, changing body and stretched out her hands. She didn't know what to say. She kept trying to get his attention; she kept trying to entrap him through his eyes.
But when those lustrous jade spheres finally settled into her snowy gaze, he opened his other eyes. Turns out, in this state, he had six of them: the first were embedded in green flame, the third pair had brash arcs of white-cyan lightning racing around them, and the middle pair dribbled aelyth like water from a hot spring.
She realized, as he lurched forth over her and through the wall, that it was going to take three So'yis and an army to settle this beast the way she wanted to.
Meanwhile, the day was fine where Rollond was; hot, and dry, with a forgiving, cool breeze. There were a few of them with Begomzsi and Injolea who loped along on all fours, almost in tandem with Rollond's steady gait. It was faster to ride, but Rollond couldn't be bothered with mounting them.
His thoughts gravitated towards the feral door. He ambled towards it, but when he knocked, he received no answer. There was something violently writing on the other side. He pressed his bare palm against what was normally glass to find it bitter as frigid ice. Ashenzsi's aelyth surged through Rollond, and from the very eyes of his companion he saw the furious visage of gape-jawed, winged beast with multi-colored feathers. It was gigantic, compared to the Sandwyrks and other Kyusoakin.
Rollond didn't realize that he stopped until Injolea tail-thwacked him.
"Something wrong?" Injolea asked.
"Yes," Rollond said. "We need to get back to Hydarkua."
"Why? It will be there when we return."
In the west, the mountains were smoldering. The Kyusoakin hadn't seen the billowing smoky clouds collected over the staggering plumes, but as Rollond grabbed Injolea's shoulder and swung himself onto the kyusoa's back, grave sense of condemnation settled onto him.
Flames writhed upon the inner plateau by the time Rollond and his company returned. The air was thick and smoggy, and it seemed that the flat top was abandoned, for the most part. The Mesas had the worst of it. Tschorra, the great tyrannosaurus-like beast beat his feathery wings, desperately fanning the smoke away. But he could barely see through the smog, much less keep up with Ashenzsi, who, in the matter of a fraction of fractions of a second, ensnared Tchorra.
The two beasts crashed on the mesas. Ashenzsi hurtled Tschorra, who was tightly wrapped in his coils, to the ground, repeatedly thrashing him until the surface broke into rubble. Then he loosed from around Tschorra, and from his second, gaped maw, the lower one, he spewed intensely hot aelyth, like smelt metal.
Tschorra slammed his tail into Ashenzsi's neck, hooked it around and wrenched him into the gravel. He narrowly escaped being cooked as the molten aelyth splattered not far from him, and from the first maw, the top one, Ashenzsi shrieked. Tschorra limped back. And as soon as he was on his feet, Ashenzsi rolled onto his belly and hissed, crouched to the plateau's surface.
Tschorra winced; it was no good.
"Hey!" Rollond shouted and waved his arms. Ashenzsi lurched for him, maws agape, tongues eager to snatch Rollond alive, but Tschorra swept him up.
He set Rollond on a ledge in the interior mountain wall, and looked at him as if asking what he wanted. In this state it was impossible for Tschorra to speak.
There was no point to asking what happened; Ashenzsi happened, Rollond gathered that much. How can he be stopped? Rollond didn't have the faintest idea. He balled his fists as he thought. Then again, what else was he good at? "Can you get me over top of him?" he asked.
Tschorra lowered his head and shrugged his shoulders. Then grumbled and cocked his head to one side.
"I want to put my fist to his skull," Rollond said, pounding his fist into his palm. "No idea if it'll work, but if I can knock the sense out of him, it might buy enough time to figure how to get some into him."
Tschorra huffed. He lowered himself off the side of the mountain wall and motioned for Rollond to hop on. It was as good an idea as chasing down yesterday's lunch in the belly of a gator.
Rollond's eyes burned. He clenched the thick, braided tendrils of Tschorra's mane, as Tschorra ascended to the skylight, where they were easy to see. They waited, and sure enough, Ashenzsi darted out of the thick bluish-red-black smoke.
Ashenzsi was bent on tearing out Tschorra's throat when Rollond leaped off of Tschorra's neck. The distance seemed short between the large beasts, but the fall was longer than he anticipated. And like second nature Rollond turned over in midair so that his back was facing his target. He took a sole gulp of air, then twisted around and nailed the full force of his fists into Ashenzsi's crown, dead between his third pair of eyes. Ashenzsi went limp. Rollond gripped his mane as Ashenzsi dropped — his body screaming through the air like a whip — and crashed on the plateau.
When the smoke finally cleared, Tschorra, in his more humanesque form, was bounding over the rocky surface to the place where they landed. It was a winding, serpentine gorge, with the details of Ashenzsi's six limbs and head. Somewhere around where his stomach would be, Rollond was sitting cross-legged, rubbing his chin as he contemplated an unconscious Ashenzsi.
"Rollond," Tschorra called out to him. He half-hopped but mostly slid down into the gorge. When he came near, he lowered himself, flattening his belly to the ground. "Thank you," Tschorra said.
"Mh," Rollond grunted. "I need to know what's going to happen here."
Tschorra furrowed his brows and shook his head. "I doubt Tschoka will refurnish the plateau; it will take generations for us to rebuild. As for this you have done, I will tell her. She will most likely want to give you something in exchange for all you have done for us thus far."
Rollond slowly nodded. "There is one thing, now that you mention it."
Tschorra arched his brows.
"I want a Price."
"No, you don't," Tschorra said.
"What makes you think I don't?" Rollond gave Tschorra a narrow-eyed, menacing glance. His gesture didn't mean anything to Tschorra.
"Because if you do this, you cannot give yourself to a woman afterwards. Realize, please, that our marked virgins are bought by Tyihas and only by Tyihas. If you were to give your virginity to a woman, and then a Tyiha seeks you out for purchase, by our law, she is obligated to remove your organs."
The idea didn't bother Rollond. "So I want a Price."
"It does not make you one of us, if that's really what you want."
"No." Rollond shook his head. "I don't have aspirations of being like a Kyusoa."
"Mm." Tschorra lifted and scratched his chest. "Bring us the Head of those whom entrap us in the desert, and I will personally see to your worth."
"Sounds fair." Rollond motioned towards Ashenzsi. "Now help me with him."
There was a valley on the other side of the mountains, towards the north. It had a short river that flowed from the hot springs in the mountain, and bled into the ocean. There, Tschorra dropped Rollond and Ashenzsi off.
"And one more thing," Rollond said. "The girl that was with us, So'yi, tell her we'll be there for her soon. And no matter what, she isn't to come looking for us; Ashenzsi and I need some time alone. I'm sure she'll understand."
Tschorra bowed his head. He exchanged parting gestures with Rollond, and went south. The Commune must have relocated somewhere along the coast.
Ashenzsi was still unconscious. Rollond found a bolder near the river, not far from Ashenzsi, and sat on it. He concentrated on his mental, feral door, and he saw some kyusoakin on the other side, and Ashenzsi was whining with his ears back. Rollond
watched, as they insisted Ashenzsi undergo it.
When she first embraced him, he withstood his instinct to flee, even though her licks made his skin slimy. She pulled him down on top of her, and wrapped her legs around the narrow of his waist, exposing herself wherein, he knew, he was to dive in and enjoy himself.
He couldn't.
Ashenzsi's tether shrank back into him until it seemed that his sheath swallowed the bulb-head of his cock; the little bit of him that was the normal protuberance between his legs.
Then she rolled on top of him. She had nine, fourteen inch tendrils like the arms of a squid. These were sensitive like a woman's nib, and as mobile, dexterous and precise as a human's arm and hand. With these she bore into the foreskin that hid his defiant organ, and, wrapping all nine of them around his head and the first few inches of his tentacular shaft, pulled him out and into her. At that point they held him down, because he was kicking and trying to throw her off. He'd have torn out her throat in that instant, or else rive her apart.
An Elegy of Fate Page 15