Moontide 03 - Unholy War

by David Hair

  ‘We’ll be across,’ Seth replied, sure on this point at least. ‘Before the Crusades the Ordo Costruo built a bridge there, a mile across. It’s like a small version of the Leviathan Bridge.’

  ‘I know of it,’ Salim replied. ‘My father stood beside Antonin Meiros when it was opened; he was the first to ride across. Those were happier times.’

  ‘We can make them come again,’ Seth said, at that moment believing it.

  ‘Then we have a deal, my friend.’

  Salim kissed both his cheeks formally while the three Brevians watched each other for any late attempts at treachery. There were none.

  With Salim’s scent lingering in his nostrils, Seth and Baltus flew west.

  ‘So was that the real Salim?’ Baltus shouted as they ascended.

  ‘Who would know?’ Seth replied, staring back across the rippling mirages to the faraway hills, stark and brown under the desert skies. ‘I don’t.’

  34

  The Valley of Nagas

  The Tale of Xynos Halfswine

  The worst excesses of the Pallas Animagi are revealed in the sad case of Xynos Halfswine, a half-man half-pig created as part of their exploration of human-animal grafting prior to this being declared illegal. His miserable existence as a college exhibit was ended when he was burned alive for the heresy of daring to criticise those who brought him into being.

  ANTONIN MEIROS, ORDO COSTRUO, 920

  Xynos was, in his way, a hero, and a harbinger of what could be done. The cancellation of the human-grafting programme is a tragedy for gnostic evolution.

  ERVYN NAXIUS, ORDO COSTRUO, IN A LETTER TO MATER-IMPERIA LUCIA, 921

  Coastal Javon, Emirate of Lybis, on the continent of Antiopia

  Shaban (Augeite) and Rami (Septinon) 929

  14th and 15th months of the Moontide

  The first sense to return was feeling: warmth, around the core of the body, the prickle of a blanket against skin, heat, radiating against cheeks and nose, and itching skin, all over. Then scent: bodily smells, and warm wool, and roasting meat. Hearing next: the spit and crackle of a fire, the bubble of something cooking; distant, merry voices, and someone close by was rasping stone on a steel edge.

  Elena opened her eyes.

  She saw him.

  ‘Kaz,’ she croaked. Her heart pounded, quivered, burned.

  ‘Ella!’ He dropped his whetstone and scimitar – a new one, she noticed – and flew to her, gathered her in his arms, blankets and all. ‘Yes, yes, yes! I knew it would be today.’

  For an immeasurable time he just held her, and nothing else mattered.

  Sitting up proved too hard and she sagged lower in the blankets, panting slightly as she looked up at him, drinking in the sight. He looked … normal, his gnosis replete. That hungry look he got when he was low on energy was absent. She tentatively tried her gnostic sight and gave a small gasp.

  Their auras were utterly entwined, wound about each other like the roots of two plants that had been potted together. She could see her gnosis pulsing in his; she could feel his in her – she could scarcely tell where she ended and he began. ‘Look at it,’ she said softly. ‘It’s like we’re the same being.’

  He stroked her cheek. ‘I know. I don’t know how to make it stop.’

  ‘Have you … you know … fed on someone?’

  ‘No. No one … except you. But you keep replenishing yourself.’ Guilt coloured his face. ‘I think it’s why you’ve been unconscious so long.’

  ‘How long is that?’

  ‘A week.’

  ‘A week!’ she squawked, trying to sit up, but he caught her. ‘Great Kore!’ She looked about her. They were in a tent, and it was sunny outside, but that was all she could tell, except that she could hear the sea: the distant thunder of waves crashing against the shore. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘I don’t know the name. I call it the Valley of Nagas.’

  ‘Nagas? What’s that?’

  ‘You will not believe me, I swear. It is best you see.’

  He wouldn’t tell her more until he’d made her eat some broth. She realised she was naked beneath her blanket, and that he had been tending her. It was a humiliating to think of herself so helpless – she’d always hated being a burden to others – but mostly, she just felt relief and gratitude. When she tried to thank him, he brushed it off. ‘You did the same for me, Ella, at the monastery. Twice.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Say nothing more. And don’t leave me in this situation again. I am a warrior, not a nurse.’

  She seized his hand, kissed it. ‘I don’t know any fighting man who would tend someone like that. It is normal for women, but men are not expected to do such things. You have done more than anyone else would have.’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘If there had been a maid around, I would have left her to it, believe me. I am glad I was born a man. I thank Ahm daily.’

  ‘Pah! I’m glad I’m a woman.’

  ‘Mmm. I am glad too.’ He winked with his usual mischievous lewdness, slid a hand over her left breast.

  She swotted it away. ‘Hey, you randy beggar! Doesn’t take you long, does it?’

  ‘Please, Ella!’ He looked aggrieved. ‘I have lain beside you every night and had to endure the woman I love being near death. You must excuse my relief that you are better and my hope that our lives will return to normal.’

  ‘I can’t wait either, lover. Truly.’ She stroked his arm. ‘Kaz, do you understand: we are probably the first ever mage and Souldrinker to ever …’ her voice trailed off, she swallowed, went on, ‘to ever fall in love.’

  Because that is what it is. I love him. I didn’t before, not fully. I mothered him, let him make love to me because I couldn’t resist. That was just the beginnings of love. But what I feel now is: real, utter, complete love.

  And look what it’s done to us … Our auras have fused. We’ve completed each other.

  She began to cry.

  ‘Hey, it’s not so bad,’ he said, wilfully misunderstanding her tears. ‘We can always argue again once you’re stronger.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, of course we can.’ She seized his face and let him kiss her tears away. ‘This is incredible … I can only suppose that once the last … barriers between us … came down, we’ve been feeding each other gnosis. It’s like we’re symbiotic. Do you know the word? Two creatures that can only exist together.’

  The thought was heart-poundingly frightening – and beautiful.

  ‘And no mage or Souldrinker have ever loved before?’

  ‘Well, who knows about Nasette? Perhaps this was what happened to her?’ She shook her head. ‘No, this is a first. Not even magi in love experience this. It must be something about the nature of your gnosis and mine together – like the poles of a magnet, the alpha to the omega.’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ He told her. ‘It is simply love.’

  ‘Yes. It is love. You know what else this means? You will never have to kill again to replenish your powers. You just need to be with me.’

  ‘I had been thinking this also,’ he said gravely. ‘It is a miracle! Thanks be to Ahm most high.’

  ‘I think you are the miracle!’ Love. Real love, after all these years …

  For a time her mind drifted in a haze, then she recalled his earlier words. ‘Kazim, what did you say about “Nagas”?’

  ‘I will show you.’ He helped her to dress, supported her as she crawled outside, then pulled her upright. She emerged into the baking sun on a sandy strip of land between a wide riverbed filled with narrow, twisting streams winding around hummocks of stone and gathering in deeper pools. To the left and behind them rose mountains: sheer and white-tipped. To the right she could hear the tumult of the sea crashing against the cliffs, miles away but a constant presence. The earth nearby had been tended and crops were growing, but the farmers were nowhere to be seen. Then she heard laughter like squealing children, above and behind them and she turned, shielding her eyes again
st the fierce sunlight.

  Her jaw dropped.

  On the rock face above were dozens of impossible beings: human, from the head to the waist, or nearly so; it was hard to be sure at this distance. But from the waist down, they were snakes, with reptilian tails as wide as their human torsos, extending for a dozen feet, in myriad hues of dun and green.

  ‘What in Hel?’ she breathed. ‘What are they?’

  ‘Nagas,’ Kazim replied confidently. ‘There are many tales of Nagas in Lakh. Sivraman creates them when he ejaculates.’ He laughed. ‘That is one story anyway. They helped the gods to create Urte. They planted the trees, dug the rivers and filled the seas. I never really thought they were real, but look!’

  Elena stared, utterly amazed. The creatures climbed the mountainside with ease, flowing up and down the slopes as if immune to gravity. They were all nude, and the males and females were clearly different. The males had one single trunk of snake-body from the waist, while the females had twinned, thinner snake ‘legs’. The women’s breasts were bare; from what she could see, the males’ genitals seemed to be retracted beneath a mound covered by a fleshy hood. Some had growth on their heads like human hair, but on others it was more akin to a turkey’s comb.

  Kazim cupped hand around his mouth and called, ‘Kekro!’ and one of the males turned in their direction, waved, then began to slither down the slopes towards them. ‘They don’t speak Keshi or Lakh,’ he told her in a slightly puzzled voice, ‘so I’ve not been able to talk to them. Kekro told me his name, though. He’s the boss. He found us and told them to help us.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I think we’d have both died without him.’

  She watched, awed by the fluid ease with which the creature descended to them, with easy wide sweeps of his trunk or tail, whichever it was. His torso remained upright throughout. His shoulders were strong, and his chest and belly deep and exquisitely muscled, without an ounce of fat. Unnervingly, his belly skin was scaled, as was his back right to the shoulders.

  Elena had grown up begging her parents to tell her ‘just one more story’: Lantric legends and ghost stories of blood-sucking corpses from the north – tales most thought of as myths. But the magi had made some of those creatures real …

  ‘Hello,’ she said, in Rondian, sure this being would understand.

  The ‘Naga’ cocked his head and his eyes – little pools of wisdom – blinked slowly. ‘Greetings, Lady,’ he replied in the same language. ‘We are pleased to see you on your feet.’

  ‘You know their tongue?’ Kazim confirmed with her in Keshi.

  ‘No, he knows mine.’ She tentatively tried out standing unaided and found she could. ‘My name is Elena, and I thank you for aiding us.’

  ‘Elena,’ the Naga repeated, testing the sound. His alien face was close to human but subtly reptilian. He nodded faintly. His tongue when he licked his lips was human-like but longer, and he used it like a reptile would, in swift flicks. ‘Welcome. I am Kekropius, elder of the lamiae.’

  Ahhh. The lamia was a creature of Lantric legend. ‘You’re constructs,’ she guessed, then realised how that must sound. To her relief, he didn’t take offence.

  ‘We are. An ugly word, but yes, we were made, not born – at least, the first generation were.’ He pointed to the younger ones. ‘As you can see, we were given the gift of reproduction.’ He eyed her steadily and she noticed that others had slithered into earshot and were watching her carefully. ‘But you are of the magi. Perhaps you already know all this?’

  There was a test in his words. ‘I didn’t know, I guessed. Animagi are forbidden from making creatures with human intelligence – it is a sacred stricture. To be honest, I am shocked and appalled.’

  He looked at her curiously. ‘Then perhaps you understand that we are somewhat at a loss over what to do with you. Would you tell the Inquisitors where we are, perhaps?’

  ‘No, not at all! Kore Above, you have the right to live.’ That might not be exactly what the ethics teachers at college had said, but she’d never believed those heartless bastards anyway. Life taught many lessons that professors in their protected little environments never learned.

  ‘That is not the view of your Inquisition,’ Kekropius said. ‘They have hunted us for years.’

  I bet they have. ‘They’re not my Inquisition,’ she replied. ‘They are evil bastards.’

  The lamia shrugged expressively. ‘Nevertheless.’

  ‘You’ve let us live so far.’

  ‘So that you might give us your tale. Now that you are on your feet, we will set a date for your trial.’

  She glanced at Kazim. ‘Have you told my …’ – uh, what do I say? – ‘man?’

  ‘We have not the words,’ Kekropius replied. ‘He does not speak our language.’

  ‘What will happen to us if we are guilty of whatever you think we might be guilty of?’ she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

  ‘That is for the Elder Council to describe,’ Kekropius replied. He pointed back towards the coast. ‘There are six men of your kind, living beside the sea and fishing the coastal pools. They helped sail us here, but that was under duress. We have not yet decided what to do with them either, but they are not an urgent case, not like a mage.’

  She rubbed her face, feeling a little woozy, from standing, and the shock of meeting these creatures. ‘Thank you for telling me. I need to lie down.’ She clutched at Kazim, who caught her and kept her standing.

  ‘Are you okay, my love?’ he asked worriedly.

  She nodded as Kekropius bowed from the waist and slithered backwards. The rest of the lamiae drew off.

  ‘What did you say to each other?’ Kazim asked softly, waving uncertainly to Kekropius. ‘It looked serious.’

  She let him take her back into the tent, out of the crippling heat. Then she told him.

  ‘Then we have to run!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll get us out, I swear.’ He gripped his sword-hilt.

  ‘No, I don’t think they want to hurt us. But they might want to keep us here. They’re scared of the outside – and who can blame them?’ She yawned. ‘Let’s sleep on it.’

  She could not manage much more than to sip a little more soup, then she fell into a deep and heavy sleep. When she woke again, it was still daylight, and she was alone. She managed to dress on her own this time, then, moving slowly and carefully, went to find Kazim, who was sitting on the riverbank, watching the young lamiae playing in the deeper pools. They were darting in and out of the water at alarming speeds, hoisting out fish and eating them whole. As she approached, one of the young males took Kazim a fish, like an offering to a priest. He made a gesture of thanks and the lamia sped away, crowing to his friends.

  ‘Hey, dinner,’ she said, sitting beside him, touching his arm and kissing him.

  ‘It’s tomorrow,’ he said, anticipating her question. ‘You look good. Much better.’ He stroked her bare thighs, sniffed. ‘Smelly, though.’

  ‘Hey!’ she cuffed him playfully. ‘I’ve just woken up. And you don’t smell so fresh yourself, mister!’

  ‘I washed a couple of days ago,’ he protested.

  ‘Yeuwh.’ She shoved him away then stood and pulled off her tunic before wading into the water. For a few seconds all the young lamiae stopped and stared and she felt her face flush. She dropped so that only her head was above the water, and as one the serpent-children went back to their play. Then Kazim leaped in beside her and they spent a good hour in the cool water, laughing and splashing as gaily as the children.

  ‘What shall we do?’ Kazim asked later, as they lay on the warm rocks in the late afternoon. ‘The skiff is wrecked – Kekro’s people burned the remains. They burned what was left of that bakhtak too.’ He told her about the final few seconds of the chase, when she was out cold. She squeezed his hand afterwards, kissed it.

  ‘You saved me again.’

  ‘It is what lovers do.’ He cupped her face, kissed her. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘Let’s hear them out. Yo
u and I are hard to pin down, so if they do find against us, we still have options. But they could be good allies, so let’s not anger them before we know where we stand.’

  ‘You are so wise,’ he teased. ‘Look, your hair is grey with wisdom.’

  ‘What?’ She was horrified.

  ‘Yes, here, and here.’ He touched her temples. ‘It went grey that night, when the bakhtak touched you.’

  Strangely, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath her. She’d been grey before, after Sordell’s necromancy attack, but that had been temporary. Perhaps this would too, but it didn’t feel good to be reminded how much older than her lover she was.

  ‘Hey, don’t look so down,’ he whispered. ‘You’re still beautiful.’

  ‘I was never beautiful,’ she scoffed. ‘My sister, maybe, but not me.’

  ‘I think you are beautiful. Like the light of dawn on the mountain snow.’

  ‘Fancy words.’

  ‘My people are great poets. Young men are taught how to improvise verse, to woo their wives.’ He sat up, struck a pose. ‘My love has eyes of pure moonlight, that pierce me to the heart. Her skin is lustrous pearl, her breasts the smoothest cream that will feed me all my days.’

  She blushed furiously. ‘Oh, you idiot. Stop it!’

  ‘Her thighs are the cushions that give me repose, her spittle the most luscious honey. I drink of her and am transported to paradise.’ He grinned. ‘You like? Shall I go on?’

  ‘No!’ She laughed, squirming a little, then, lying back, looked up at him. ‘I do love you.’

  ‘And I you. If you are wrong about these Nagas, I will kill them before I let them touch a hair on your head.’ He winked. ‘Even the grey ones.’

  *

  The journey would be only forty miles, according to the map, though it was less of a map and more of a sketch, and every mile was either vertical or horizontal, so it was doubly useless. Travelling in a straight line through these mountains was utterly impossible. Gurvon Gyle stilled his khurne at the top of yet another rise and looked back the way they had come down the narrow, treacherous river valley. He could still see the peak they’d woken beneath that morning.