Sowing Dragon Teeth

by James Alderdice

  Ole finished cutting the bridge and it hung for a bare moment before slamming with a clatter against the far side. Half the planks shattered and fell into the defile below.

  “They will follow I suppose,” said Catlo, “but even if they do they will be days behind us and will become hopelessly lost in the desert since they do not have the map!” He laughed and gave the watching Kathulians a vulgar gesture.

  “You have that much confidence in me?” asked Aisha.

  “Of course, I do. Why else are you still alive?”

  They journeyed up and through the crooked mountain pass while the curses of the Kathulians behind them were lost upon the biting wind.

  7. Islands in the Sky

  The goat trail they followed wound upward, and sometimes, between the spaces in the heavy cloud cover, Aisha could see the valley stretching far below. Even from up here it looked hot and uncomfortable. Brown dust devils gyrated like lusty tavern wenches and the sun bore down on them like a relentless taskmaster always demanding more. It was hot and dry in the mountains too, but the constant breeze that threatened to knock her from the saddle didn’t allow for sweat.

  The high mountain path was naught but broken stone, hardly even a tuft of grass grew here. It was nearly as barren a place as had been the standing stones were Zahur had been hiding. She remembered hearing in the border town saloons that this was a haunted mountain range, but never believed she would traverse them herself. Why would anyone come here when the level plain below was so easily ridden? But being pursued by an army of zealous Kathulians can change a lot of plans.

  Aisha counted thirteen in their caravan besides herself. A full dozen of the worst cut-throats Catlo could find, and she included Diamanda in that number. She knew she could not turn her back on the princess of Irem for a moment, surely the woman would try and gain revenge on any one of her captors but especially herself. Ole was the one-person Aisha had confidence in, but why did he serve a cruel dog like Catlo?

  Catlo had given up the lead to Galtier, who seemed to take it as a matter of pride to be riding furthest ahead. Behind the one-eyed bandit were the two Umoja brothers Musa and Nyo, but they had paused and were chattering excitedly to one another.

  “What is it?” asked Ole.

  “We saw it again.” Musa pointed at a spire of rock.

  “Saw what again?” asked Catlo.

  Galtier stopped once he noticed that the others had ceased following him. “What’s going on?”

  “They saw it again,” called Feroze.

  “Saw what?”

  “I don’t know.” Feroze shrugged and looked at Musa and Nyo with a raised eyebrow.

  Musa glanced about at the others with a frown. “We saw Dark Watchers upon the peaks.”

  “Dark Watchers? Men? Other Umoja?” asked Catlo.

  Musa shook his head. “No. Dark Watchers are shadow beings that watch from the high places. But they disappear when you notice them. They are said to be harbingers of death.”

  Catlo ground his teeth. “Ghosts? You stopped us for ghosts?”

  “Not ghosts,” corrected Nyo. “Dark Watchers. They eat men. Ghosts don’t eat.”

  “Are we in danger?” asked Ole.

  Musa said, “I don’t know. They are said to attack lonely travelers or those asleep, but we are many, so I think we are safe, but it is still unsettling.”

  Nyo nodded his agreement at Musa’s assessment.

  “Ghosts,” mocked Catlo. “We are talking about ghosts, damnit. Shut up the lot of you and let’s keep moving. We don’t have time for ghosts.”

  Aisha scanned the peaks and thought she saw a small cloud-like shadow once, but it might also have been a trick of the light. It was hard to shake the feeling of being watched here, but with each ridgeline they passed the possibility that anyone could be following them unseen on these treacherous passes became more unlikely. The rocky slopes afforded only one path and the precipice and cliffs that they ranged beside concealed no other possible trail or route for pursuit. But the feeling of being watched remained all afternoon and into the gloomy beginnings of dusk.

  “Have you ever been this way before?” Aisha asked Ole.

  “No, but we had a desert map and it said that a path existed here. We always knew it might become an escape route. We explored as far as the bridge and could see the trail continuing. Looking at the map, it was easy enough to see that we could eventually get back down to the valley once past the highest final peak.”

  “Is that the final peak?” She pointed at the knobby crag ahead.

  “I think so. Should be all downhill from there,” Ole said.

  “Lot of bones around here for a place that doesn’t seem to have any game,” she said.

  True enough the trailside did have a multitude of bones of all shapes and sizes.

  “Picked clean too,” she said.

  Ole thumbed his axe and cast a wary glance over the rugged countryside. As they rode on toward the peak, the amount of bones beside the trail increased and Aisha was right, they were thoroughly picked clean and white without a hint of flesh or skin upon them.

  Ole said, “Looks like goats or deer. That’s all. Maybe a pack of wolves made a den nearby in years past. I see nothing fresh.”

  “And you won’t,” chided Aisha. “Wolves did not do this.”

  Another few paces up the trail and there were broken and dented pieces of armor rusting amongst the bleached bones.

  “All right, not wolves,” Ole grudgingly acknowledged. “But it must have been a long time ago whatever it was.”

  “Unless whatever it was doesn’t waste a morsel,” Aisha quipped.

  Feroze audibly gulped beside them and began muttering his prayers to Cybele.

  “Shut up and listen!” demanded Aisha.

  The wind mocked her attempts to hear but there was some noise beyond the relentless barrage of wind—rapid flapping of some kind.

  “It sounds like a flag caught in a terrific breeze,” said Ole.

  “Banners don’t eat flesh.”

  The sun retreating in the west blasted golden light across the peak. Shadows awoke in the crags and stretched their spindly fingers rapidly as they clawed over the cliff face. The riders struggled up the steep slope and the sound of flapping intensified at their approach. Just over the rise of the peak, the wind blasted even stronger, and the source of the noise was apparent. A shredded cloak was wedged within a deep crack.

  “That’s odd. Why would someone do that?” asked Diamanda.

  “Maybe it’s a marker,” offered one of the Avarans.

  “Of what? The peak?” scoffed Catlo.

  “That’s no marker,” said Aisha. “Something is in there.”

  “Maybe treasure!” shouted Feroze. He and another one of the Avarans began pulling at the flapping cloak, trying to tug it free of the recess from which it protruded.

  “Idiots,” said Catlo. “But if there is anything in there, I am entitled to my share.”

  Whatever the cloak contained was wedged particularly tight into the crack. Tugging on the cloak only proceeded in tearing the sun-bleached fabric to ribbons. They were forced to get on their hands and knees and pull away bits of stone until they could grasp the inside of the cloak and, reaching a belt, yank out the object. They grunted and their faces turned a dark shade of red as they pulled, and still it would not budge.

  “Ole help us,” said Feroze.

  Grudgingly, Ole got on his knees and took hold of the belt and pulled. Something snapped within and the thing came free.

  It proved to be a mummified corpse.

  Feroze cursed in surprise and dismay then rapidly rubbed his hands across his trousers and spit prayers of contempt. Ole frowned. There was no treasure to be had. It looked like a poor shepherd who may have been taking shelter from a storm. He would have no wealth.

  “Why were they in there?” asked one of the Avarans.

  “Perhaps they sought shelter from the wind and cold?”

  Ole shook hi
s head. “If he would have only moved off the peak a few paces the wind would not have been at him nearly so bad. Something drove him in there.”

  “What?”

  “Whatever made those.” He pointed at a massive pile of bones just over the other side of the ridge. It sat conspicuously below a lip of rock that made a wonderful perch for some great beast that might sit upon the highest peak.

  Aisha shivered with remembrance of the dragon’s shadow gliding over her. Could not this be the ancient dinner table for such a monster? What else would feed in such an inhospitable place?

  The pile of bones was enormous. Everything they had seen to this point were but the table scraps of a giant feast that had mistakenly tumbled from this great repast. And despite the huge quantity of bones, there was no smell of decay nor any amount of flesh or blood to be seen. It was a clean, ominous death that lay here.

  “Dark Watchers,” drawled Feroze.

  Aisha fought against her own remembered childhood terror by laughing at the man’s fear. “It’s been doing a lot more than watching.” Mocking that which she feared had been a time-honored way of dealing with the many horrors she had seen in life.

  Feroze frowned and continued his murmur of prayer.

  “It will be dark soon, we best find a place to camp,” said Galtier.

  “Not here!” exclaimed Feroze. “I won’t sleep in this accursed spot.”

  “The wind is too much,” said Ole, “but perhaps down the trail there will be a flat area. Less of a breeze, better for the horses.”

  Catlo glanced at the bone pile and back down the trail. He nodded sagely. “Ole is right. Let’s keep moving down the trail until we find a better spot. Too much wind and we don’t want Feroze shitting himself.”

  Clouds were rolling in below them, concealing the mountain paths down from the peak. They passed by the bone pile and Aisha couldn’t help but notice that the unwholesome collection contained bones from every sort of creature she could imagine, including many men. Some few articles had lasted beyond the harsh climate, a belt buckle, a rusted knife blade, even a thin bronze circlet resembling a poor king’s crown.

  Shadows stretched and twisted convulsively beside them as the sun dropped behind the clouds and mountains. The blue twilight still granted more than enough illumination as they went down the ridge.

  Galtier who was again at the lead, abruptly cursed and turned this way and that as he met the bank of clouds concealing the trail. “The path ends here at a cliff face,” he shouted back to the others.

  “Impossible,” answered Catlo. “The map showed the trail going on down and letting us enter the valley. We should have more than a day’s lead on the Kathulians.”

  “Well, I don’t see a trail,” sniveled Galtier.

  “Keep going along the edge we’ll find it.”

  “You don’t understand. I can see the entire cliff right here. There is nowhere else to go except back the way we came,” said Galtier.

  Ole dismounted and crept up beside Galtier to look upon the edge. The wind battered at him as if unseen hands hoped to push him into the abyss. It was plain that there was no road. “Looks like the map was wrong. Or we missed a fork in the road.”

  “There was no fork in the road and we could not have missed it,” said Catlo. “Do you know anything about this?” He directed the question to Aisha.

  She shook her head. “I know the way to Jokameno, but from the valley, not your shortcut.”

  Catlo swore. “Not my shortcut. This was Galtier’s way.”

  “We cannot go back,” cried Feroze from the top of the ridge.

  “Why? Are the Kathulians coming?” asked Catlo.

  “No,” answered Feroze. “The path is gone.”

  Hodari, Musa, and Nyo began their own prayers in the Umoja tongue.

  “Quiet you fools!” snapped Catlo. “You must be mistaken, idiot.”

  Feroze shook his head, eyes wide with terror.

  Aisha was confused at such developments. She thought she had seen the trail winding down to the right when they had been at the peak looking at the cloaked corpse. Had she imagined it? And how could even a fool like Feroze miss the trail they had so recently trod upon?

  She rode back to the top and gasped as she looked back upon the broken stone slope. The trail they had so recently traversed, lined with jagged shale, led down to a bare edge. A wide dark gulf separated them from another mesa by more than a mile.

  “Sorcery!” she spat. “It must be but an illusion.” She dismounted and skipped down the dark path.

  “Aisha, wait!” called Ole, hurrying after her.

  As she approached the edge, she slowed, yet still expected a mist or something tangible to break apart like a curtain and reveal the truth. But there was no such reveal. She kicked a few pebbles off the lip and heard nothing but the raging wind.

  Consternation furrowed her brow and she threw stone upon stone into the gulf, expecting to hear something, anything, and yet she was met with only the moaning of the winds.

  Ole was beside her. “We must have come from further afield and to the north than we thought.”

  She shook her head. “You know that’s not true. We have walked like lambs to the slaughter into a sorcerous trap.”

  Others were making the same circuit about the peak and spoke what she had realized. “We are on an island in the sky,” said Musa. “There is a sheer cliff surrounding us.”

  “Perhaps the watchers were trying to warn us,” said Nyo.

  “Or coax us here, that they might feed,” added Feroze.

  Catlo for once was silent at this talk, he scowled and strode up toward the windy peak.

  Ole took his bedroll from off his horse and began preparing himself for the chill of night.

  “What are you doing?” Aisha asked.

  “I’m getting ready for sleep.”

  “How can you sleep at a time like this? We don’t know what is coming for us in the dark.”

  “If it comes I’ll fight it, but until then I will rest and wait for daylight. I’m thinking this is all a grand illusion and the rising of the sun will break that enchantment and we can continue our journey.”

  “These bones aren’t an illusion.” She kicked a large femur beside them.

  Ole shrugged. “Maybe not. But perhaps all these creatures did was simply lay down and die for fear of moving on. I’ll find a way in the light of day.”

  “You speak like a philosopher king of Shang-Henj,” she chided. “And if in the morning we are still trapped?”

  “I’ll worry about it then. Good night.” He wrapped himself in his snow-white bear cloak and rolled over.

  ***

  The winds howled all night and most of the party barely slept. Aisha dozed a few times, shivering in her woolen blanket. She had hoped Ole was right but as dawn’s pink hue crested upon the horizon, hope was again lost. They were still stranded on this haunted mountain.

  Once they ate a light breakfast, everyone made a circuit of the mountain, trudging over jagged boulders and myriad bleached bones, but there was no path of escape. Evening came, and worry mounted. Ole alone considered his options.

  “I think I could climb down,” he said.

  “Are you mad?” chided Aisha. “I’ve seen apes that could not do this thing.”

  “Where I come from, babes learn to climb from their mothers’ breast,” he said with a grin.

  “These Tetons are not something to joke about. Likely you would climb down to a spot even worse than where we are now.”

  Ole shrugged. “I won’t stay here and rot. I’d rather try and climb down.”

  “It must be a grand illusion,” Catlo muttered.

  “I’ll sleep on this one more night, but if there is no other way, I’m climbing down to my death if such is the price, granted I’ll fall with a sword in my hand, but I shall awake in Valhol.”

  Aisha snorted at that, but she had no other answer and considered overcoming her fear of heights to make the attempt with him.
Soon enough Ole’s light snore gave her more comfort than words ever could.

  The others discussed cutting all their garments into a great rope, but she doubted that even if they used their blankets, they could reach more than a few hundred feet, and the canyon looked more than a mile deep.

  Aisha found it all too disturbing to sleep. The others seemed to feel as she did and collectively envied Ole’s resolve. There was no moon that night and the starlight gave a cold glow to the sea of jagged stone. The winds continued unabated all night, taunting like jackals hoping to steal a lion’s kill.

  Hodari, Musa, and Nyo cried out in excitement when they found a tiny amount of fuel to burn on what was otherwise a desert island of rock. They made a precarious shelter with slabs of stone and could manage only a small fire.

  “Are you cold?” asked Aisha.

  “Not really,” answered Musa. “Just burning herbs in the hopes of discovering answers to this cursed place. It may be the only way to gain answers.”

  “How will a fire help?”

  “I am preparing herbs that I might enter the dream lands and ask my ancestors about this place. At least then I might have an answer. Even if it be to accept our collective death here.”

  Aisha absently wondered if these herbs were how Neema had known so much about her and traveled back to those childhood memories.

  Musa prepared a pipe and, lighting the bowl, let the orange glow take root before he blew several satisfying puffs and lay down upon his zebra skins. Nyo sat at his feet with his spear in hand. Hodari sat on the opposite side and clutched at his spear as if expecting an attack from the darkness.

  “What now?” asked Aisha.

  “He will sleep and he will dream and speak with the ancestors and learn what we must do,” said Nyo.

  Within moments Musa was asleep. Aisha remained beside the Umoja brothers as she still did not think she could fall asleep herself.

  A short time later, Musa convulsed and rolled upon his skins. He was not awake but seemed terrified, flailing his limbs.

  “Wake him!” shouted Aisha.

  “I cannot,” said Nyo. “If he is not ready, his mind will remain trapped in the dreamlands. He must find his way back himself.”