Through the Never

by J. A. Culican

  In the instant before his body crashed to the illusion of solid ground beneath us, I jumped.

  I leapt off my horse before I had the chance to take in the threat of my surroundings. I just knew that Dolpheus was to my left, my horse was falling beneath me, and that my weight couldn’t be on top of him when he landed. Even if my weight wasn’t much compared to his, anything that could add to the severity of the impact wouldn’t do.

  When I landed, the ground was barely there, and I stumbled. But as I did I yanked the spake from my saddle to keep Seafarer from falling on it—and because I liked its weight in my hand when I didn’t yet know what threat I was facing.

  With my spake in my left hand and my sword in my right, I planted my feet as firmly as I could on the moving sea of sand, and lifted my head to meet whatever was coming.

  Because something was definitely coming.

  And it was upon me before my brain could register what my eyes were seeing.

  A mass of black, smelly fur charged at me. I had time only to react. Away from my horse. Away from Dolpheus and his horse. I lunged ahead of me, to my left, my sword an extension of my arm.

  I didn’t make contact with the mass of angry grunts, but I did succeed in redirecting the mowab away from my friends.

  “Come on, you fucker,” I said to the mowab that attempted to sear the red of his eyes into mine.

  Over the large mass of his back I could see others rising from the sand around him. Not only would I have to dispatch this mowab back to the fiery hell he came from, but I’d have to do it fast.

  I had time only for a quick wish that I didn’t have to kill the beast. While I had no love for him, neither did I appreciate senseless death. If only they’d just let us pass without attack. We meant them no harm, just as we had no issue with the rebels.

  I sidestepped farther to my left as the mowab charged. One of his horns nicked me and knocked me off balance, but I managed to slice the air in front of its throat with my sword first.

  I couldn’t be sure I’d cut more than fur until the beast squealed that inhuman sound that seemed to cross all species of beast.

  “Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?” I asked the beast as I pierced his chest with my sword. He wouldn’t survive the initial cut to the throat, but I’d rather kill an animal than leave it to suffer.

  The creature plummeted to the ground, shaking it, reminding me there was nothing steady about where I stood.

  I put a boot to its side and was quick to remove my sword. Then I spun and ran, studying my surroundings while putting more distance between me and my horse.

  Olph! You all right?

  My heart beat furiously. Another mowab charged at me, but that wasn’t why. I swung my spake at its face and jumped out of the way.

  Olph!

  Aye. Aye, I’m all right. Excellent, really.

  My heartbeat resumed its steady rhythm. I’d grazed the mowab’s face and moved farther to the side, farther away from my friends. I waited for the beast to charge at me again.

  This is exactly what I felt like doing today, Dolpheus continued. I heard him grunt across the way. Dancing with big. Smelly. Fuckers. Each of his words was punctuated by the sound of metal hitting flesh.

  The mowab I’d nicked took another turn at me, and while he charged, my eyes landed on a larger mowab, a bigger threat, toeing the sand beneath him.

  Wait for it, Tanus, I told myself. Wait for it.

  The smaller mowab, which wasn’t small at all, charged and I forced myself to hold my ground. My balls retreated somewhere I hoped I’d be able to find them again, but I wouldn’t let myself move.

  The ground shook, sand jumping across its surface. Still, I dug my boots into it.

  I could feel the heat of the mowab’s breath across my face.

  Now.

  I jumped to the side and stabbed at the mowab’s chest with my sword.

  The beast squealed but kept running, yanking my sword free of its body.

  It limped but still turned to face me again. Preparing for another charge.

  But at least this one was injured. The bigger fucker was still toeing the ground, each movement setting his huge, low-hanging balls swinging.

  Then the big fucker ran at me, head on. And the other one, over my right shoulder, charged too.

  From the corner of my left eye, I saw another one emerge from the sea of sand, as if it were a sea monster and not a mowab.

  There was no time for the expletives that would normally run through my head at the imbalance of the situation.

  A three-pronged mowab attack was guaranteed to kill most Oers. Neither Dolpheus nor I were ‘most Oers.’ We trained hard not to be like the herds of people that were quick to believe in the limitations others imposed upon them and to give their power away to whomever was clamoring for it the loudest.

  I had a good chance of surviving this attack. But it wasn’t a great one. There were three mowabs after all. I’d better deal with them summarily before any more had the chance to add their numbers.

  I might have been able to beat them on my own, but faithum would’ve been nice. Even faith in the Something Greater the Devoteds believed in, which supposedly had a hand in what was happening to me and every other Oer, might have been helpful.

  Too bad I didn’t believe. I had better things to waste my thoughts on than flamboyant notions that something outside of myself was going to extricate me from this hairy, smelly, red-eyed mess I currently found myself in.

  If I was going to survive this, I’d be the one to find the way. Dolpheus, who always had my back, was busy with his own set of mowab attacks.

  The faster I disentangled myself from the mowabs, the sooner I could get to Dolpheus. Because I’d sworn to myself that I’d always protect him, the one friend who was more family than any family I’d ever had.

  The mowab I’d injured would reach me first. Even in its weakened state, it was far stronger than I was, than any human could ever hope to be.

  But I couldn’t turn my back on the larger one running at full speed toward me.

  The one to my left wasn’t yet attacking. It shook the sand that clung to its coat free.

  There was nothing pretty about these beasts. Even the females looked as if they’d bite your head off and swallow it in one gulp before they’d let you pet them.

  Where was this Mowab Rider, anyway?

  With my eyes fixed on the one charging straight ahead, I held my ground until it resumed shaking beneath my feet. Then I slid to the left, toward the beast that was finished with its shaking and was toeing the sand, breathing steam through its nostrils. I crouched and lunged toward the injured beast, slicing its underbelly with my sword.

  It staggered. I removed my sword and still it didn’t fall.

  The beast in front of me roared what I perceived as fury at the certain death of its brother or sister. The stench of his breath extended ahead of him, his intentions equally foul.

  I didn’t think there was a way the mowab could look meaner or angrier than he had before, but he did. His eyes flared a red brighter even than the Suxle Sun, promising that he’d rip me limb from limb.

  I felt it before I saw it. The mowab to my left began its charge as well.

  Sword in one hand and spake in the other, I gave my attention to both animals, hoping fiercely that the sand behind me wouldn’t birth any more mowabs that intended to kill me.

  I trained my eyes on the approach of the nearest one, the one that’d reach me first. He was a gargantuan beast, all muscle, glowing eyes, and swinging balls. His legs pounded across the sand, gaining traction better than our horses could. The mowabs were born to this terrain; they were made for it.

  Even as he barreled toward me at full speed, his eyes those of a demon, I thought it a waste that I had to kill him.

  There’d been too much killing in my life already, and I was far from finished living it—I hoped.

  I clutched the hilt of my sword.

  “Come on, motherfucker.
Let’s dance,” I said over the pounding of hooves aiming to maim and kill.

  Then a shrill, deafening whistle rang and the beast skidded to a halt, showering me in sprinkling black.

  Wide-eyed, I verified what my ears told me. The one to my left had stopped too. From full speed to nothing in too short a time for such a large animal.

  The mowab to my right crashed to the ground from its full height. That was the last sound I heard before an unexplained silence filled the space that had just been taken up by so much anger and noise.

  And then I heard Dolpheus. Whatever my friend was doing, at least he was alive.

  I’d never heard Dolpheus snarl before. It was a vicious, menacing sound, as terrible as any the mowabs made. Since I was alive, there was only one other thing that could cause Dolpheus to react with such fury. I hadn’t spotted what caused the shrill whistling or what made the mowabs halt in mid-charge, but I moved straight to our horses anyway.

  My step hitched when I saw Dolpheus’ horse, his throat sliced in a clean line.

  I spun, searching for my friend. A soldier needed to keep his wits about him in battle. There was no place for emotion in fighting. Emotions got you killed. And there was no way in hell I’d let my friend die today.

  I spotted him behind black, furry mounds, animals that hadn’t needed to die any more than his horse.

  He leapt over a felled mowab and ran at the only one still moving, sword aimed at its eyes.

  “Stop,” the woman atop the mowab said.

  Dolpheus stilled.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she said.

  “Then you’d better get the fuck down here right this second, because someone’s going to pay for the unnecessary death of my horse. If you don’t want it to be any of your little pets, dismount. Now.”

  Dolpheus’ voice was barbarous in a way it normally wasn’t. This wasn’t him. He’d talked me out of revenge as many times as I had him. It wasn’t our way.

  But I wasn’t about to advise him now.

  His horse was dead. There’d be hell to pay. And this woman was about to pay it.

  I couldn’t decide who was more fearsome, my furious friend or the rebel woman capable of taming the gargantuan beasts.

  Little frightened Dolpheus and me anymore, but mowabs did. Only a fool wouldn’t be frightened of the animals that enjoyed human heads for breakfast—or lunch or dinner.

  Yet the woman who was dismounting didn’t look like a fool.

  Had Dolpheus not been consumed with the loss of his horse, a companion to him during the trials that followed the death of his father, his approach to this woman would have been quite different. I was sure of it.

  Dolpheus was many things. He was a superb soldier, who’d earned his reputation for skill at arms a thousand times over. To me, he was also a friend, the most loyal kind I could wish for. To many others, particularly the courtiers of the royal court that dealt in gossip, he was a ladies’ man, and this reputation, too, was well-deserved.

  The woman dismounted from her beastly mount smoothly. Her dress suggested she was a rebel of the Wilds, her demeanor suggested her a queen among them.

  In tight pants that hugged curves I was surprised Dolpheus could resist, the woman took several steps away from the mowab and stopped. Was she diverting Dolpheus’ attention from the mowab as I’d done with our horses? Had this mowab rider forged some kind of connection with the beasts I’d thought impossible? Or did she protect this mowab simply because it allowed her to ride it, and it was a formidable weapon?

  “You killed my horse,” Dolpheus ground out.

  “Actually, you killed your horse,” the woman said, her voice calm, as if a warrior, splattered in blood and with a crazed glaze to his eyes, weren’t pointing a sword at her.

  I moved closer to my friend. He’d resent me if I restrained him, but I’d promised the mowab rider’s sister that we wouldn’t kill her. It was a promise I aimed to keep, even if I wasn’t in the mood to do it. This woman had attacked us when we weren’t a threat to her or anyone else. We meant only to mind our business of searching for a missing woman.

  This mowab rider was to blame for all the painful and unnecessary loss here.

  “You are responsible for the death of my horse,” Dolpheus said again, adjusting his semantics.

  “You cut his throat,” the woman said. Apparently, she liked to dance with danger, because my friend looked dangerous right now, more lethal than a mowab, no matter how large the beasts were.

  “I cut his throat to spare him from the pain caused by the injuries your attack inflicted on him. I take it that you are the one who ordered this attack on us?”

  The mowab rider unsheathed her sword and took a step toward Dolpheus.

  I took several more steps toward both of them, ignoring the eerily still mowabs that surrounded us on most sides and the obedient form of my horse Seafarer. I resisted the impulse to go check on him, to ensure he didn’t sustain any injuries in his fall. I made damn sure not to look at Dolpheus’ fallen horse. It wouldn’t do any good if both he and I lost our cool.

  The mowab rider was too serene. She screamed of peril in the low, pulsing frequencies of my gut. The material of her shirt was thin, nearly translucent, and her nipples were pert. I noticed Dolpheus’ eyes, even rage-filled as they were, flick back and forth across her chest. Oh this woman was definitely dangerous.

  The woman raised her sword toward Dolpheus, though she was still several steps too far away to pose an immediate threat. No matter what state of mind possessed my friend, he was a superior swordsman.

  “I did order this attack,” the woman said, in silky tones.

  I fully took in our surroundings for the first time since entering this field of sand, pocketed with concealed mowabs. That on its own tempted me to consider it under the effects of faithum, for how on O did this woman manage to conceal beasts of this size and temperament beneath sand?

  There were no other rebels I could see. When this woman said she ordered the attack, she must mean that she ordered the mowabs.

  I took another step closer to Dolpheus. This mowab rider was even more dangerous if she was capable of faithum.

  “We meant you no harm. You had no right to attack us.” Dolpheus’ voice was firm, his sword unwavering, still aimed at her. But I knew my friend better. Pain was just beneath the surface of his words, words that were true. We’d done nothing. We’d drawn our swords only in anticipation of an ambush, not with the intention to attack.

  “No right? I have no right to attack you?” the woman said, her words beginning to take on a volatility I didn’t understand.

  Her tone appeared to confuse my friend as well.

  “Are we going to argue about the right to kill?” the woman continued. “The right to kill the unarmed, which you are not? Or the non-threatening, which you aren’t either?”

  “Wait, what?” Dolpheus said. His sword remained a threat, but lucidity cut the glaze across his bright eyes.

  “You attack the innocent. So why shouldn’t I attack you, who aren’t innocent? Not even a little bit. You probably weren’t even innocent when you were suckling at your mother’s teats.”

  I stepped in now that it would no longer undermine my friend and his righteous anger. “What are you talking about?” I asked. The woman didn’t spare me a glance. Her wild eyes bore into Dolpheus,’ as if she might chomp down on his head like her pets did.

  I tried again. “Who do you even think we are?”

  “Oh, I know exactly who you are, Lord Tanus.” Never had my official title sounded so foul. “And I know precisely who your little friend is, your Arms Master, whatever the hell that title means.” She raised her sword so it was nearly close enough to cross Dolpheus.’

  “Wait,” I said. “What do you imagine we’ve done to you?”

  “I don’t imagine anything. I know precisely what you did.” Again, she stared at Dolpheus, apparently unconcerned that I too carried weapons.

  “Look, I don’t know what you
think we did but—”

  She didn’t let me finish. “I know what you did. I saw my parents in a pool of their own blood.”

  I stepped nearer to my friend, within this crazed woman’s field of vision. If she wouldn’t look at me, I’d force my way into her attention. I raised my hands suggesting peace and calm, even if each of my hands carried a weapon and red evidence that I knew how to use them. “Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. We don’t kill people that aren’t trying to kill us.”

  “Tell that to my parents. Tell that to my brothers and sister, who’ve had to live without parents to look out for them.” She still wouldn’t look at me. Her eyes held Dolpheus’ without pause.

  “You don’t understand. We aren’t like that,” I persisted.

  And so did she. “You dare say that as the blood of your kills drips down your arms?” She laughed, a sound as chilling as any other she’d made.

  Then she lunged at Dolpheus.

  He deflected her blow, took three quick steps toward her, and swept a boot behind her own.

  She landed with an umph of surprise.

  Dolpheus’ speed didn’t surprise me. I’d been sparring with him since we were boys.

  Dolpheus pinned her sword arm to the hot, black sand, which splattered around her as she thrashed, weaving sparkly black granules into her long, tangled hair. Hair that was nearly the color of the blood that dripped from Dolpheus’ sword, down his hand, and onto her bare forearm.

  He straddled her and pushed her other arm against the ground. She squirmed and kicked until the mowab facing Dolpheus, the one she’d dismounted, grunted and took a step toward them.

  I watched the woman tilt her gaze above her head toward the towering creature. And I watched as the beast responded to the silent message her eyes must have given.

  The mowab took a step back and stilled again. I realized my mouth hung open and I shut it.

  The woman returned her attention to Dolpheus. She tried to pull her arms from his. When that didn’t work, she tried to kick and knee him in the back. Dolpheus sat his entire weight on her pelvis.