Black Warrior

by Jolie Jaquinta

  Chapter 10 – Desert Homes

  Mercedi sat astride her horse on top of a low ridge. The land beneath her horse's hooves was cracked and broken stone, with low shrubs clinging to it. Gullies and scree slopes cut through it making for rugged, treacherous terrain. Beyond her a shadow fell over the land, like a passing cloud might cast. Only there were no clouds in the sky at all. It was the only visible sign of the edge of the Black Hole.

  Rocks fell and skittered as another horse climbed the slope next to her. On its back a young man wearing a mage's crest rode uneasily. The grey and white spotted horse did more guiding than the brown skinned man. He wore a loose white tunic with a broad red brocade sash. Loose white trousers covered his legs and another length of red brocade was tied around his head to which his crest was pinned. When the horse finally came abreast of Mercedi he relaxed in his saddle and looked up and around the place.

  “See anything?” he asked.

  “Not a fly, Bala. Not even a fly”, said Mercedi.

  “That would be unusual, yes?” he asked, uncertain.

  “No, not so much at this time of day”, she said. She had donned a pair of chaps to guard against the rough and occasionally thorny bushes. But other than a bandolier to hold a quiver of arrows, she wore little else. “So it's hard to guess if something is up, or nothing is up.”

  Bala took a long swig from a water skin, and then splashed some over his face. He offered it to Mercedi who took it, swallowed a mouthful, and handed it back. “Shall I do a scan?”

  “Why not”, said Mercedi, still scanning the horizon studiously.

  Bala stowed the skin and composed himself. Eyes closed, he brought his hands up, and began to make traceries in the air. Geometrical shapes made of glowing nimbuses appeared and slotted together. They vanished in a flash centering on the palm of his hand.

  “See anything?” asked Mercedi.

  Bala opened his eyes again and stared at his palm intently. “Not a fly”, he said, with a smile.

  Mercedi smiled back, and guided her horse down the slope.

  “What exactly is in there?” asked Bala, after they reached a relatively level portion.

  “No idea”, said Mercedi. “You grew up around here. Why don't you tell me?”

  “Hmm”, said Bala. “All I know is what grandparents said to scare the kids into obedience.”

  “Tell me that”, said Mercedi. “It would be better intelligence than we're getting here.”

  Bala thought for a while. “They call them 'The Forsaken'. They're ten foot tall, with big feet like termite mounds. No hands, just long claws. And their faces... they are just blank. No eyes, nose, mouth or any senses. That is their punishment, and that is their desire. They creep out of the Black Hole at night, and look for children who haven't gone to bed. They can't see, but they can feel your soul. When they find you, they steal your face. They take your senses for their own and leave you stumbling around unable to scream for lack of a mouth. At this point the other grandparent would usually leap into the room with cloth bound around their head chasing the children to bed.”

  “Huh”, said Mercedi. “I think that would have kept me up all night, rather than going to sleep.”

  “Ah”, said Bala, wagging his finger. “But it would have kept you in the house!”

  Mercedi smiled and nodded. “We had dhubs. They're sort of a poisonous lizard. Not really venomous, but they creep out at night and eat dead things. Their bite is pretty bad and nasty. Likely as not to get infected which is as good as poisonous.”

  “That would keep me inside”, said Bala.

  “Inside isn't good enough. They spend the day under rocks so they can creep and crawl through cracks as small as your finger. And a sleeping body looks much like a dead body to them.” She shrugged. “We had to sleep on the roof.”

  Bala nodded. “Not much rain, eh? Not that different from here.”

  “Not that different”, agreed Mercedi.

  “Feeling nostalgic?” asked Bala.

  “Nope”, said Mercedi. “Other than for the sunshine. That's nice to feel. Romitu is too cloudy. And Irontree is positively gloomy.”

  Bala laughed. “Maybe I spent too much time there. I like the fresh air there. And trees! So many trees!” He looked around at the barren lands they rode through. “I thought you would like that. I thought dryads love trees?”

  “I figure so”, said Mercedi. “Dryads are tree spirits native to the mountains along the northern ridge of Romitu. Never met one. They just call us dryads 'cause our skin is greenish. No actual relation.”

  “Oh”, said Bala, meekly.

  “I'm a desert creature”, said Mercedi. “This feels about right to me.” She looked out over towards where the shadow loomed. “Minus the hordes of evil faceless ones.”

  A couple of hours later they had descended from the top of the highest of a series of ridges. It marked the border between Kemet and Sindhu. They stopped on a promontory down the slope, but high enough to give a good view. A saddle blanket hovered in the air providing shade for the two horses and Bala. Mercedi sat in the sun as they waited out the noontime heat.

  Bala had reconstituted some flatbread, steamed rice and pungently sauced vegetables that he had magically stored earlier and shared them with Mercedi.

  Mercedi enthusiastically scooped it up with the bread and ate it. She nodded out over the broken plain. “I hated the idea of going through Sindhu without stopping for food. Your country really knows how to cook! I swear I never ate in the canteen when I was stationed there.”

  Bala nodded his head shyly. “Whenever I go home my parents do nothing but cook and cook so I can deconstitute food to take with me. They do not think the army feeds me at all.”

  “Compared to food like this”, said Mercedi, “it doesn't. Please give her my compliments the next time you are on leave.”

  “You are kind”, said Bala. “I will.” He, too, looked out over the plain, then nervously back at the darkness of the Black Hole. “I know this is my land, but it does not feel like a homecoming.”

  Mercedi shook her head. “We're just on patrol. I think this little no-one's land was a convenient place on the map for the border between Romitu, Kemet, and Sindhu. It's not anyone's home. We'll be out of Sindhu and into Romitu tomorrow.”

  “Unless we meet trouble”, said Bala, worriedly.

  “Yes”, said Mercedi. “Unless we meet trouble.” She glanced up at him, and out over Sindhu again. “How far from here does your mother live?”

  “A day's march or so”, he said quietly.

  Mercedi nodded. “Let's hope we don't meet trouble.”

  They finished their food silence. When done, the kits cleaned and stowed themselves away. The sun was still high in the sky so they waited a while longer. Bala continued to gaze into Sindhu.

  “Do you get home often?” asked Bala.

  Mercedi had untied her chaps and lay, prone, on the other saddle blanket. “Not anymore.”

  Bala cocked his head. “Not anymore? What happened?”

  “The god slaying”, said Mercedi.

  “Oh”, said Bala. “Were your parents very religious?”

  “I wouldn't be here if she wasn't”, said Mercedi.

  “Is army service a religious devotion?” asked Bala, confused. “I have heard you are a warrior people.”

  Mercedi levered herself up on one elbow and studied him. “No”, she said slowly. “That's just self-flattering bigotry from exiles. Anyone can kill someone. Giving birth is a devotion.”

  Bala looked acutely embarrassed. “I- I- I am sorry” he stammered. “Most of my knowledge is from hearsay and rumors. I did not mean any offence.”

  Mercedi lay back down. “OK. None taken.” He sat for a while longer, head bowed down in shame. After a while Mercedi propped herself up again. “You really don't get it?”

  Bala swallowed heavily and shook his head. “I don't even know what I'm not getting.”

  Mercedi puffed her cheeks out. “I don't have pa
rents”, she said, emphasizing the plural. “I have a mother. I have sisters, aunts, and a grandmother. That's my family. There aren't men in Amazonia. None at all.”

  “None?” said Bala, confused. “But how do you...Where do children come from?”

  “The usual place”, said Mercedi, with a half-smile. “Only when a woman wants to be a mother she goes to the temple of Myrine, not to a man.”

  “I always assumed there was some secret rites”, said Bala. “That somewhere...”

  “There are many secret rites”, said Mercedi. “But we don't pro-create like the beasts do.” She sat fully up and dusted her arms off. She continued to speak, almost reciting. “You must compete in the games: to show you are strong enough to defend your child. You must compete in debate: to show you are smart enough to educate your child. You must give generously to the temple: to show you can provide for your child. If the mother goddess is pleased with you, then you will have a child.”

  Bala looked surprised. “It seems kind of unfair. If you must beat everyone else to have a child, there can't be too many children!”

  Mercedi smiled and shook her head. “Our competitions are not ones in which there is only one winner. You have rivals only to provide an opportunity to rise to a challenge. Everyone comes from different circumstances. It would be unfair to cast judgement one to another. What is important is the devotion you show.”

  “Oh”, said Bala, nodding. “You are here because your mother was sufficiently devoted. She could not have given birth to you otherwise. So, as a matter course, she was religious.”

  “Yes”, said Mercedi. Her expression became grimmer. “And do you see why I haven't been home?”

  Bala shook his head, and then stopped, concentrating. After a moment he sat up sharply and his jar dropped. “The gods are dead! Your mother goddess, Myrine, must be dead too!”

  “Yup”, said Mercedi. “Now you get it.”

  “But... but...” stammered Bala. “Children! Where do your children come from now?”

  “They don't”, said Mercedi.

  “That's terrible!” exclaimed Bala, truly shocked.

  “Yes”, said Mercedi. “It is.”

  “It cannot be let lie! This must be fixed!” said Bala, with agitation.

  Mercedi looked at him curiously. “But what can be done? Everyone said the Ævatar consumed all the gods past recovery.”

  “Yes, yes”, said Bala. “There's no helping that. But the quickening of a child... I wonder what is involved.” He stopped and blushed furiously. “I mean... is there a process we can trigger magically? The new magic we have and god's magic share the same origin. There’s nothing the gods ever did that we can't do. I wonder if anyone is studying it.”

  “It seems an odd thing to study, given the wars”, said Mercedi.

  “No, no”, said Bala. “There is much study of Souls, and where they come from. How a new child acquires a Soul. But I would have to ask higher up if anyone has looked into quickening. I'm sure it can't be too difficult.”

  Mercedi laughed. “I'm not sure it would catch on.” Then she looked resigned. “But I guess it beats bestiality.” Her face froze as she looked past Bala. Both horses had stopped feeding, and were staring fixated in one direction.

  “Scan please”, said Mercedi. She slipped her bandolier on, picked up her bow and moved, crouching, towards a large stone between her and the direction the horses were looking.

  Bala looked around anxiously. He took a deep breath, and performed the same incantation he had done previously. This time small motes of magelight hovered over his hand. His face paled. “I'm getting... there are lots of them. All over!”

  Mercedi's eyes widened as she took in his reading at a glance. “They're coming up the valley”, she said. “Run. Now.” She climbed up on the rock and drew her bow. “I'll hold them off until you get clear.”

  Bala scrambled to his feet in a panic. He started to move for the horses, and then stopped. Looking back he saw Mercedi hunting for a target. Then, there was a blur through the air and a broad spear tore through her throat. Bala screamed as her body was flung to the ground, blood gushing from her neck. He hesitated again, recalling a healing spell and estimating the power to repair such a catastrophic wound. Then he felt the sword at his side buzz magically. She was dead. Her Soul had departed and had been collected by the sword.

  Belatedly he turned and ran. He had only just cleared the camp when a figure leaped down from side of the gully ahead of him. He pulled up short and backed away as it hissed at him.

  A scuffle broke out in the camp and he heard the horses scream. Turning he saw several more figures tearing at the horses and fighting over Mercedi's body. One, however, was not. It strode directly towards him. It leaped the gully edge and landed, cat-like, just next to him. Then it smiled broadly and raised its spear for the strike.

  But Bala was no longer there.