God of Emptiness

by Walt Popester

  Kugar took a deep breath. She awoke and returned his gaze.

  Dagger kissed her abdomen, still admiring her blue eyes beyond the gentle slopes of her breasts. I’m still walking that road, he thought looking at her. And you’re still there, my unreachable light. He didn’t smile as he said, “Excuse me. For the way I—”

  “You hurt me. You hurt me bad.” She closed his mouth with one hand. “Shh. I know what you’re going to say: Well, basically you’re a half Tankar, no? Damn it, you’re right. A human girl would limp for a month after a ride like that!” Kugar blocked his other hand too, preventing his every action.

  But Dagger freed himself and pinned her to the ground again. “I’d never say such a thing.”

  She tried to bite his nose.

  He caressed her black hair, moving it away from her eyes. “I want you.” Those words were a lightning strike for both. “I shouldn’t. It shouldn’t be so. It’s not supposed to happen.” He saw his emptiness reflected into her gaze. “But it is so.”

  She exhaled. “It’s too complex a reality, even for a god and a half-wolf who will never have rest.”

  “Kug, when they created me like this they knew I wouldn’t play a script. They knew they couldn’t tie my wrists and ankles with their damned wires. Ktisis, I have more in common with you than with all the gods of this world…”

  “Then open yourself to life. We just want to see you happy.”

  Dagger noticed a change in her voice. He ran a hand on her face. “Would you love a monster boy?”

  “And you? Could you understand the beauty of a beast?”

  “I must think about it.”

  Kugar laughed. Her hands went down, and Dag closed his eyes. “Try to convince me. Call my name and make me holy again.”

  *

  “How long have we been lying here?”

  Kugar closed her eyes and snuggled against his shoulder. “Not enough. Forever. Who knows. I begin to understand how much you’ve been looking for me all this time.”

  “And where have you been all this time?” He felt her shake her head—her thighs around his left leg, the warm humidity of her sex on his skin. “My girl, my girl…don’t lie to me. Tell me where did you sleep last night.”

  She was silent for a long time and Dagger regretted having opened his mouth. Why am I asking questions, when I should be the one giving answers?

  “Evoken thought I was on their side,” Kugar said. She paused, then continued to empty the bag. “I had to help him into the depths of Sabbath, but I…limited the damage.”

  “Was there also a weird, old man with you? One with white hair and a black face?”

  “You’re talking about Mumakil. An adorable guy.” An imperceptible smile hovered around her lips. “He had complete control over the son of Varg, who esteemed him and would give him a blowjob with Mokai if he asked. When Mumakil only touched on the issue, Evoken sent me on a mission to find Benighted—the only thing he could think about from dawn to dusk. With hindsight, I think he did that because he knew you were coming and it was his plan keep us away.”

  “At that point, you were in deep trouble. You couldn’t get back to the Fortress and going forward you would eventually run into Tankars. Or worse.”

  “Lucid analysis. Every direction is wrong for she who doesn’t know where she’s headed. Yet something started calling me. Hard to put it into other words. I put one foot in front of the other, and before I knew it, I was marching eastward. The nomads call it the desert freedom. Its unique charm lies in the solitude and freedom of an unpopulated vastness. Miles of ruins without a living creature, an inhabited house, a bush, anything. I had a good mount, supplies, and enough desire to escape. Everything I saw was the premise for new discoveries—every temple, every dry well, every statue claimed back by the emptiness over which it had dared to stand. One day, walking a narrow path on the edge of a deep ravine, I saw a kid in the middle of the street. I stopped, overwhelmed by some kind of inexplicable maternal instinct. It was a trap.”

  “The Hotankars?”

  “They still didn’t call themselves that way. It was just a bunch of kids fled from the Sanctuary who tried to rob a vagrant. They had no idea of the shape of a sword, so I told myself, Stop running away. At least there, I was needed.”

  “I just don’t see you in the form of a mum.”

  Kugar smiled sweetly, before hitting him with a punch—a real punch—in his stomach.

  Dag curled up, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “I…I think I deserved that!”

  Kug laughed, kissing his cheek.

  “And then?” he asked, holding his belly in his arms.

  “There was too much movement on that road, and I began to understand it was strategic for the slavers. The first convoys weren’t even guarded. I think there was some kind of agreement between the slavers and the Tankars—perhaps the former paid to be left alone, or perhaps the battle of the Fortress has changed the balance of the area and the Kahar Tankars turned their attention elsewhere.”

  “And the Nehamas, why do they?”

  She shrugged. “It didn’t matter. The only thing I cared about was to save the world one person at a time. I attacked the caravans to free the slaves directed to Asa.”

  Dag lay back and looked at her. “And you called them Hotankars, because you missed us.”

  She pulled herself up on an elbow. She caressed his chest, tracing little circles with her fingers. “I missed Ianka. He was the first who didn’t judge me for what I am. He’s shown me harmony, the ability to stay together in spite of everything. It’s the only antidote for the spread of the desert, don’t you see? We’re the ones who made this world sterile, with our ability to hate. When I needed to figure out what to do, I thought about what Ianka would do. I spoke about Ian whenever I could, to everybody. He was the image to which I clung to stop the emptiness seeping through me.”

  “And when you freed Ianka, all the others saw some a kind of messiah in him,” Dagger supposed.

  “After every attack my band became bigger and…don’t say that!” She exclaimed when he opened his mouth, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t say that.”

  “You’re drawing too much attention. No one is so stupid as to repeat the same mistake over and over again, unless he wants to.”

  “You mean like falling in love?”

  “Stop it.”

  “I’m waiting for the attack by the Disciples, the Beshavis-Tankars or the slavers—or all together.” She shrugged. “Soon it will be all over, me, us, our stupid fight for survival. At first, the caravans had virtually no escort. This time there was Marduk in person.”

  “Or in corpse.”

  “Or whatever he is. Of course, this time they had a very special guest.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I was talking about the priest, you stupid.”

  He grabbed her wrists and Kugar tried to free herself, laughing until their gazes met. Dag ran a finger along every tiny scar on her face, around her eyes, down along the nose to the point where her upper lip slightly curved.

  He felt her speaking under his finger, “Tonight dreams are allowed. Tomorrow is another day.”

  “I will not let you go so easily now.”

  “And what will you do, will you lock me up and throw away the key?”

  “Yes. And you probably wouldn’t even mind.”

  “Probably.” She rubbed her cheek against his hand. “But we both have a task, a struggle to be getting on with, and you know we will.” It seemed she wanted to say more. Her eyes filled with sadness.

  “How can you be so alone?” he asked.

  “You can.”

  “And how can you accept it?”

  “It wasn’t our choice. Life chose for us.”

  “Kug—”

  “Shhh.” She embraced him in silence for an infinite time, or maybe no longer than the beating of two hearts in unison. Then Kugar got up, dressed, and disappeared down the stairs.

  For a moment, Dagge
r was certain he had dreamed it all. He lay down watching the intricate plot of the branches on the ceiling and thought that life, all lives, were nothing more than an endless series of junctions and dead ends, with a few flowers in spring. He tormented himself for a long time, before finally getting dressed.

  He walked down to the central cave, immersed in total darkness except for the purple lights and the torches shining far above and below him. A large group of people had gathered around a distant fire. He tried to reach them, walking down barely visible staircases, and climbing ridges of limestone with lights constantly rising and falling around him like in a troubled universe. He put foot on the ground, pushed his way through the shabby armors, and found Kugar standing in front of everyone.

  She was beautiful. She raised her eyes to look at him.

  Dagger had arrived in the middle of her speech, “If what Hagga says is true, a shipping with the mayem raked from the Sanctuary will be here soon, bound to Asa.”

  “What will the Disciples do with it?” someone asked.

  “They prefer to know it is in their hands,” Hagga answered. “But if we get a good supply of mayem, we can finally change your suicidal tactic of always attacking the same places. Give a twist to the story, and, with time, who knows…”

  “Who says we can trust him?” Ianka asked.

  “He’s right. Who says so?” Hagga himself replied. “I came in chains. I’m not here to implore you to accept my help. Just like you, now I don’t have a home to go back to.”

  Schizo was silent for a moment, then he continued, “Look at his face—”

  “Half of my face is gone, and with a little luck I’ll lose the remaining half in this mission. Are you saying that I have nothing to lose? Well, you’re right. Whoever has something to lose would better not follow me.”

  Ian planted a dagger in the table. Then he walked away into darkness.

  Kugar stared at the flames. “You’ll come with us, priest, and you’ll always be at my side. If you’re driving us into a trap, I assure you, you won’t enjoy any benefit.”

  Schizo wasn’t there with them, when a few hours later Kugar prepared to leave with her other Faithful ones.

  She still thinks like a Guardian. The desert hasn’t changed her much…

  “It’s dangerous to take you with us,” she explained. “Can you understand that or do I have to draw a picture to you?”

  “I could give you a hand.”

  “Yes. You could help me complicate my life and confuse me, as always. No, you’ll remain here. It’s an order.”

  He tilted his head to the side and said, “Ah. Ah. That’s really funny.”

  “This is still your lucky day, punk.” She leaned on his shoulder, although everyone could see her and confuse affection with weakness.

  “If I disappear, I’ll come looking for you,” Dagger said. “Whatever happens, wherever you go, I will be there or searching for you. I promise, and this time I’ll keep my promise. I will follow that damn road until the end, because there’s no way to separate what’s made to be together.”

  “You’re wrong, Dag. There are many ways to do it.”

  She turned away and he pinched her butt. A mocking and sad gaze was her last farewell. Dagger watched Kugar walk farther and farther away. When the last reflection on her armor disappeared, he realized that the chase had begun again.

  Perhaps at the bottom of that light there’s my freedom.

  *

  10. The day the world came undone

  Dagger sat at Kugar’s desk—or at least the big, leveled root she used as a desk.

  He missed her voice. He missed the unique way she arched her eyebrows when she didn’t understand something. He missed the warmth of her skin, so he gave himself over to her memory, reflected in the objects scattered around him. He caressed them avoiding the curved blades that dangerously resembled those he saw on Araya, until his fingers met the mayem box they had found on the Disciples’ wagon. He noticed the presence of five fingerprints on each side. He tried to cover them with his own hands, but nothing happened. What, has it lost its charge?

  “To be on your own all the time won’t make you feel better.” Ianka’s voice distracted him from his thoughts. Schizo passed him by and sat on the edge of the arch overlooking the well, his legs hanging in the void. “But I understand you. Sometimes you get so bored with everything that you prefer to be alone. At least this way no one looks at you trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.” He stared at the leaves on the bottom.

  “Ian?”

  “Don’t ask me how much I drank. You don’t want to know.”

  “What happened to Erin?”

  “She’s missing.”

  “I mean before.”

  Ianka kept on staring into the void, which seemed to call him with increasing force.

  Dag felt the need to put a hand on his shoulder to hold him there.

  Some time passed before Schizo answered, “I promised to watch over her, to take her away from there. If I live, you live I could do no more but repeat that, while…”

  “You’re agitated. Try to put your words one in front of the oth—”

  “…while they prepared her to be cooked,” Ian finished. “A show put on for my eyes alone. Sitting at the head of the white wooden table where she had been tied, Orgor looked into my eyes and said, We ship this delicious dish to our most distinguished customers. What do you think about that, warrior? They had tied her arms and legs behind her back, an apple in her mutilated mouth, knives stuck in her ass. This will definitely please them, don’t you think? Don’t you think?”

  “The Disciples…”

  Schizo nodded. “Kugar set us free on our way to Asa Bay. Since then, I’m begging her to attack always in the same place, because I know that sooner or later Orgor will be there. I pray Angra every night for that day to come. If I couldn’t defend Erin, at least I want to avenge her. Sooner or later I will have that man in my hands, and I will feed on him piece by piece, day by day. I’ll keep him alive as long as possible to eat all his limbs…and then I will shit him! From his brain to his eyes, from his face to his gonads, I will shit him.”

  Days passed.

  Dag kept himself busy—and kept Ianka busy—practicing and dueling ceaselessly. The echo of their blades below the rocky vault sedated their inner voices from dusk to dawn, from dawn to dusk.

  The moons of the seventh night rose and only the brightest stars survived in their presence. Dagger parried Ian’s lunge, then rested the tip of his sword on the ground and wiped the sweat from his forehead. They were surrounded by nothing but the sad song of the few birds hidden at the bottom of the well.

  “It’s nice.” Ianka was at his side. “It’s like…I don’t know. The beauty of the end, of the disaster. Of death. These branches are taking back possession of what was taken away from them and…you know?”

  “One day we’ll work on the way you express yourself.”

  “I never had any problem making myself understood.” Ian rolled the hilt of his sword in his hand. “In my own words.”

  From his brain to his eyes, Dagger thought. I will shit him. “Ian?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Haven’t you said anything to Kugar about the mayem box, the one we found with the black book?”

  “And what was I supposed to say, that when you touched that, it burned my hands?”

  “Well. Yes.”

  The other was silent.

  “You didn’t tell her, right?” Dagger supposed.

  “I think I forgot about that. I had so many things to think about…”

  “Okay.”

  “…organizing the riff-raff we had brought here…”

  “Okay, Ian.”

  “…finding a place for everyone and all that, you know?”

  “Okay.”

  Schizo looked at him. “Do you think it was important?”

  Dag shrugged.

  Suddenly the birds shut up and silence reigned. Ianka turned to him
and grinned, seeing some ropes dropping from the top of the ancient cistern. They grabbed their arms, and when the first man came down along the rope, they pierced his guts in unison.

  The man screamed, falling inside the cavern. Ianka was on him and the result was mere butchery. High blood spatters accompanied the man’s shrill cries, as he raised his arms and begged for mercy with what was left of his mouth.

  Ian kicked him down, then peered outside. “I’m the king of hell fire! And I give you fire!”

  Kugar was a Poison Guardian. After crossing the desert and surviving a thousand troubles, she still was. Dagger wasn’t surprised to see that she had foreseen an attack from above. At the order of Schizo, he saw shadows moving fast through the arches.

  Schizo dragged him away.

  Other ropes descended, but they were vaporized when the incendiary charges blew up all together, turning the inner wall of the cistern into a fiery furnace for the invaders. The conformation of the structure pushed the flames up, while charred bodies and ropes, blackened weapons and burnt robes rained down.

  A crazy laughter horrified them, when a mighty man covered with flames strode into the cave. He crossed the red-hot threshold dropping the furs and the flames he wore, showing an armor of mayem plates and bones.

  Human bones, Dagger noticed.

  “Orgor…” Ianka whispered.

  The slave trader looked around. He dusted his belly indifferently, and thundered, “You have something that belongs to me!” He pointed at Schizo. “I promised them a delicious dish and They have been disappointed.”

  Ianka stepped forward, sword in hand. “So, what’s the problem? Come and get her!”

  The brute laughed inside his helmet, which was forged with the bones of two skulls on the shape of a snake. Dagger took Solitude in hands and stood at his friend’s side, but he heard footsteps behind and turned around. He saw hundreds of men breaking into the cave and surrounding them with no hurry—a perfect circle of endless scimitars pointed at them. As a warning, some of the slavers dropped to their feet the heads of the Hotankars they had killed along the way.