Sowing Dragon Teeth

by James Alderdice

  Ivory foam pulsed from Musa’s mouth and tears of blood streamed from his eyes as his body arched and jerked to and fro.

  “I thought you sat beside him to help him.”

  “I am helping him. I’m not allowing anyone to wake him too soon,” he replied indignantly.

  The others in camp heard the commotion and soon surrounded them. Diamanda watched in horror and hid her face.

  “This again?” said Catlo. “Looks worse this time, but I suppose we are in a worse predicament.”

  “He has done this before?” asked Aisha.

  “Sure, the Umoja love their herb for speaking with ancestors, but this time,” he paused. “This looks bad. Maybe one of the dead have hold of him and isn’t letting go,” he said, with a laugh.

  Aisha shivered at the thought while simultaneously wishing she could take some and speak with her father.

  Musa shot up screaming. Nyo took his shoulder and tried comforting him. It took a few moments before Musa calmed himself and went quiet.

  “Well, what did you learn?” asked Catlo excitedly as he kneeled before the sitting Umoja.

  Musa’s eyes were wide and full of fear. He breathed in hard ragged gasps as if he had just run up the mountain with all the demons from the nine hells in full pursuit. “I saw my grandmother.”

  “Neema?” asked Aisha.

  Musa nodded as he wiped bloody tears away.

  “Aisha, shut up and let him speak,” snapped Catlo.

  “She told me we are upon a cursed mountain and only with a sacrifice will the elemental spirits allow us to leave.”

  Catlo pulled at his goatee, then rubbed his hands together swiftly. “What kind of sacrifice?”

  Musa looked soberly at him. “You are the leader. This is for you. You must sacrifice something you hold most precious. The elemental spirits of this place will know if you hold back and lie. It must matter greatly to you.”

  Catlo rubbed at his jaw. “It must be precious, eh? How precious did they say?”

  Musa almost whispered, “It must be blood.”

  “A horse?”

  “Man,” replied Musa. “Or woman.”

  Catlo’s dark eyes flickered over Aisha and then Diamanda who was curled into a ball a few feet away.

  Aisha’s hand went to her hilt. She was ready to split his head open if it came to that. She mapped out her attack plan. She would cut Catlo down, then Feroze who stood a pace beside him to the left. Then she would have the two Umoja brothers, then Ole. Ole! Where was he? Still asleep? No, he was awake, just lurking in the shadows. He was a truly dangerous man.

  “Diamanda. Come to me,” Catlo said sadistically. She did mean much to the bandit leader. Everyone knew that. His refusal to give her up had brought them to this sorry state hadn’t it? Would she now be his blood sacrifice to appease the spirits of this haunted mountain? Aisha didn’t like the woman at all, she was the prized daughter of her people’s mortal enemy, but could she allow this pig of a man to just kill an unarmed woman?

  Diamanda stood and stretched then sullenly approached Catlo. Her languid stride seemed that she didn’t believe she was in mortal danger. Was she just that crazy?

  Aisha watched in awe, half expecting a knife to appear in Catlo’s hand and be thrust cruelly into Diamanda’s belly.

  Catlo took her by the shoulders and said, “Get Galtier for me. Tell him I have much to discuss with him.”

  Diamanda nodded and strode away into the dark to retrieve the second in command.

  There was a tense moment as the band of adventurers looked to one another, curious as to what Catlo was about to do.

  Galtier came striding up with a fierce scowl on his face. “The bitch said you wanted me. What is it?”

  “She spoke true, little brother. I asked for you,” said Catlo, as he put a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

  Galtier shoved Catlo away, shouting, “Don’t insult me by calling me such.”

  Catlo feigned a smile. “But Galtier, I care for you. You are like my brother. Have we not raided together for sixteen long years now? We have bled together and shared the spoils of many treasure caravans. You mean much to me and now, you will help in the fix we have found ourselves in.”

  “What fix? We are all caught in the dark sorcery of this haunted place but come daylight and we shall have the cobwebs removed from our eyes and escape this foul place.”

  Catlo rubbed his jaw. “I’d like to believe that, I really would. But the brothers here,” he gestured toward the Umoja, “they spoke to the spirits and the spirits say we must make a sacrifice to leave this peak. It’s the only way.”

  Galtier blinked his one eye at the others and looked about. It must have appeared to him that he was surrounded by the lot of them. That he was the sacrificial lamb suddenly dawned on him. He drew his saber and cried out, “Never! I’ll kill you all!”

  Catlo, swifter on the draw, pulled his rapier out and pierced it through the one-eyed captain’s heart.

  Galtier’s teeth clenched just as his grasp weakened and Catlo disarmed him and eased the hard captain to the ground.

  “Hear me spirits!” called Catlo into the roaring winds. “I give you a sacrifice of a man who meant much to me. We were as brothers and yet I give him to you! Let us leave this place!”

  Galtier collapsed to the ground, spitting blood. “You traitorous dog! The spirits will feast on your bones yet and my shade will haunt you the rest of your days.” He gasped one more gurgling breath then leaned back on the stones and went still.

  “Throw a blanket over him,” said Catlo. “I don’t want to be reminded of his face. We were close. I wouldn’t cheat the spirits like that.”

  One of the Umoja threw a horse blanket over Galtier’s body. They all gathered close together in the howling wind, waiting to see what would happen. But beyond the relentless wind, nothing moved nor changed.

  Catlo ran down to the cliff’s edge to see if the path would be revealed. Feroze followed him but came trudging back a short moment later. “We are still trapped on this island in the sky. There is no way to leave.”

  Hodari spoke softly. “Perhaps the spirits did not think Galtier was a precious enough sacrifice?”

  A few minutes later Catlo came back grumbling and cursing. “They robbed me, your spirits robbed me!” he shouted. “Galtier was like a brother to me! We have raided together since we were boys! And this is how I repay him? I should kill you as well if we are to remain in this cursed place.”

  “Easy, it’s late, let’s see what morning brings,” said Ole, taking Catlo by the shoulder.

  The slender captain ground his teeth but nodded and strode to his own collection of blankets and huddled within the mass to ward off the cold.

  After more than an hour of the cold mountain gusts and freezing temperatures, he got up and stole the blanket from off Galtier’s corpse. He then had enough cover to fall asleep despite the gale.

  When daylight came the winds died down somewhat and the clouds rolled away. The trail appeared like the morning dew as if it had been there all along.

  “What did I tell you?” asked Catlo. “Wait til morning and everything will be all right!” He proclaimed loudly. “Mount up, let’s keep this moving.”

  Aisha glanced at Galtier’s body, curled in the fetal position as if he had been freezing in the night. She wondered if the wound had not slain him but the cold had finished the job and it wasn’t until he had expired in the deep night, that the mountain spirits had allowed the glamour of the path to be revealed. They rode on, leaving the bandit chief’s flesh and bones to bleach atop the mountain along with so many others.

  8. A Crash of Kathulian Steel

  Late the next day as darkness washed over the desert and the jingling of stirrups and horses made soft sounds, Aisha’s senses flew into a panic. Something was wrong. She didn’t know why or what it was yet, but she looked up and down the canyon walls, surly and wary.

  Ole noted her trepidation. “What is it?”

 
; “I don’t know, but we should not enter that canyon.”

  “It’s a shortcut. Gets us to where we need to go,” he reassured her.

  She glanced up at the uppermost edges, brilliantly outlined by the azure sky.

  With the twang of dozens of bow strings, arrows filled the sky like an army of starving locusts. The sharp ting of barbed arrows striking flesh, bone, and light armor thrummed a terrible drum roll. Several Avarans cried out and were lost.

  Aisha and Ole had hung back just far enough to be beyond reach of the first wave. But if they did not press through—and quickly—they would be destroyed in the jaws of the trap. The trample of horses sounded behind them as the second spring in the ambush loosed and a contingent of men and horses approached.

  “We’re caught in a vise,” said Aisha.

  Ole nodded, muttering, “Stay to the left of me as we swing ‘round the edge of the cliff. I’ll shield you!”

  Catlo kicked his horse’s flanks and charged ahead, beating the archers to their prize as he ducked into the slot canyon ahead. Musa and Nyo were close behind him. Nyo lost his pink hat in his mad dash to safety but led Zahur’s mule with them to the slot canyon. Their cousin Hodari was not so lucky. He rode point and took four shafts to the chest and face. He fell dead before being crushed beneath a screaming horse.

  Ole led Aisha along the edge of the canyon, keeping them sheltered from all but the most daredevil of archers looming over the cliff. A few skittered close by but missed them before they ducked into the narrow canyon that was just wide enough to allow them passage by single file.

  “But more men are coming? How shall we deal with them?” she asked.

  Ole looked over his shoulder answering, “We can stop them well enough, if we are blessed by the gods.”

  “That hasn’t happened since before I met you,” she retorted.

  “Hasn’t it?” he asked.

  The sides of the red rock canyon were tight, and several times the rough stones grazed Aisha’s bare legs, rubbing away skin like sandpaper. Her knees knocked against the side and quickly bruised a deep purple.

  The horses splashed through a secluded pool of water and, stagnant as it was, the fresh feeling of water on her skin was a great relief. Then they were gone and it was dry and forgotten again.

  As they wound through the canyon, Ole cast a wary gaze upward.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “I have an idea,” he said.

  “It better involve splitting heads with that great axe of yours!” she snarled, as she looked over her shoulder. She caught the barest glimpse of Kathulian riders following.

  Ole led them on with greater haste, winding through the narrow canyon. Aisha watched, open mouthed, as he climbed atop the saddle of his still moving horse. “Keep going, but not too much farther, I’ll only be a moment. Keep hold of my horse,” he shouted as he clambered up the sheer cliffs by pressing his hands and feet against each side of the canyon and lifting himself upward. He disappeared over the edge.

  “What are you going to do?” she called.

  “I’m going to block the canyon.”

  She could no longer see him.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Aisha rode ahead about fifty paces and waited. Looking over her shoulder she caught faint glimpses of movement through the serpentine canyon. The Kathulians were coming, single file, armed to the teeth with bright weapons of steel.

  As they rounded the bend, they saw her waiting ahead of them. They cried in bloodthirsty abandon and charged, kicking their heels into their already frothing mounts.

  Dust and pebbles slid from above the rim of the cliff. The Kathulians closed the distance between them. Aisha drew her sword, ready to meet them on her own terms.

  A shadow loomed and, with the sound of thunder, a great rust red boulder fell with a terrific crash, blocking the canyon with a grating of stone on stone as a dust cloud belched from out of the narrow opening. Men and horses screamed around the invisible corners. Dust blinded her for a few seconds until movement slithered from the cloud. Aisha thought for a moment it was Ole. But one of the Kathulians had already moved beyond that fallen missile.

  Aisha cursed under her breath and urged her mount on until she reached a slight opening in the slot canyon where she could turn around and face her enemy.

  The Kathulian knight glanced over his shoulder and saw what had happened to his comrades, but he came on, eager to spill blood and gain some revenge upon his foes.

  Aisha raised her sword and caught the knight’s spear, knocking its deadly pierce off kilter. Before the knight could correct, she slashed upward, but the blade slid along his heavy breastplate and mail. He trapped her sword under his arm and twisted in the saddle to try and trap or steal the blade.

  Aisha kicked him and while he retained his place in the saddle, he lost his hold on her weapon.

  “You’re strong for a woman,” he taunted. “But I’ll break that spirit!”

  “You won’t live long enough to be insulted by your failure,” she answered.

  The knight maneuvered the war horse to rear and gain both space and time for him to bring his weapon to bear again. He was obviously no stranger to close quarter combat.

  He faced off against Aisha and sneered. “I came to fight men, not women, where are your masters, bitch?”

  Aisha steeled herself to lop this arrogant knave’s head from his shoulders, but just as they each charged at each other a stone the size of a cabbage roared down and knocked the knight from the saddle, pulping both his helm and skull. The horse bolted away a few paces as the knight sprawled to the ground.

  “I didn’t need your help with him,” Aisha shouted. “I kill my enemies face to face!”

  Ole stood at the lip of the canyon. “I know, but I always wanted to do that,” he said, with a friendly smirk.

  Aisha cursed under her breath and urged her mount on. The fallen knight’s horse remained. It would not leave its fallen master. She rounded the bend and found herself in a small opening in the canyon.

  The Umoja brothers, Musa and Nyo, came back around the side canyon to her left. The mule carrying the corpse of their grandfather Zahur trailed afterward.

  “Where is Ole?” asked one.

  Aisha pointed up. The two Umoja laughed and nodded with their bright teeth beaming. Aisha wasn’t sure what the joke was. “The Kathulians were right on our heels, but Ole took care of that.”

  “We heard it,” said Nyo.

  Ole appeared above the rim and said, “That will stop the pursuit from this way. They’ll have to find another way around and that might take days.” Ole spaced himself at the mouth of the slot canyon and eased his way down again.

  “What did you use?” Musa asked.

  “I found a big enough boulder to block the slot. I think I hit the lead horse and rider too.”

  “Second rider,” Aisha corrected.

  “I hit him too,” said Ole, good naturedly.

  “You truly were blessed by the gods of luck to find a stone you could move up there,” Nyo said.

  “The gods help those who help themselves,” he said. “I was watching for one that looked like I could move it. I barely did, or you would have been fighting at least thirty of those knights by now.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” growled Aisha.

  Musa suddenly cocked an eye back toward the narrow slot canyon. “I feel deep magic there.”

  “Let’s keep moving, we’ve lost enough men and time for today,” urged Ole.

  Musa shook his head. “They are coming, soon.”

  Ole swung his head back. “Do they have a war mage?”

  Musa nodded. “I feel someone. Very powerful. Deep old magic,” he said gravely.

  “All right. We kill him too,” said Ole.

  “Nobody just kills a war mage,” objected Aisha. “You’re overconfident, Northman.”

  Ole shrugged. “Just keep the horses ready to bolt if need be.”

  “I will
, if only to have a spare for myself.”

  Ole chuckled, then he and Nyo ran back to the mouth of the canyon. Each of them long limbed enough to scale back up the cliff by pressing their legs and outstretched hands against the red sandstone.

  Aisha was tall but not enough to reach each side like the two men. Still she followed and went farther into the slot canyon to see what might be happening on the other side of that fallen boulder. She passed by the war horse which nickered and nudged at its fallen master.

  Men shouted on the other side of the boulder. The stone fit like a puzzle piece but for a few narrow spaces still open on the side. A piercing eye stared back at Aisha and she lanced her blade into the spot, but the range was too far to reach the spying Kathulian. A spear slashed inside but could in no way reach Aisha either. She broke the shaft to antagonize the men milling behind who might be watching for Ole and Nyo.

  The shouting Kathulians suddenly quieted and shuffled back from the fallen stone. She looked up to see a hint of Ole’s blond head. She couldn’t see Nyo but knew he must be close by. They had not revealed their presence to the Kathulians yet.

  A slow murmur began on the opposite side of the boulder. The hair on the nape of Aisha’s neck stood at attention. Something electric and tangible warped through the air. Nausea roiled inside her guts—a war mage was within a few paces of her, separated by only a large stone.

  She had faced a war mage once before in the sea battle that had destroyed her armada. This was not something she wished to ever do again.

  The great stone shook and began to rise. Dust slipped off the upper edges as it reverberated and rose inches at first as if some giant invisible hand gently took it skyward.

  “Damn their vile gods!” cursed Aisha as she stepped back. The sandaled feet of the war mage appeared in the newly risen gap—the armor-plated boots of the Kathulian knights crowding in behind him.

  The stone climbed slowly into the air. When it reached almost six feet high, she looked into the cruel face of the war mage. He was an older man, as most accomplished sorcerers generally are. His beard was mostly grey with only a few traces of black left, his eyes were dark and beady, and his nose was long and hooked, making him look like a bird of prey. He wore a fine sable robe, trimmed with scarlet. He glared at Aisha, as the stone rose just above his head height.