The Thin Executioner

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Jebel ate, brooded, and slept. There was no way of telling day from night in the caves, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t interested. A great weariness had settled upon the boy. He didn’t think about the future, what would happen to him if he ever left this place, where he might go if he did. He was alone with his thoughts, and most of those were horrible.

He tried to find comfort in the happier past, recalling Debbat Alg, his family, Bastina and her mother, life in Wadi when he was innocent and free. But none of that seemed real to him now. It was hard to believe it had ever happened. A world without pain, loss, betrayal, hate, death, loneliness? Impossible!

Most of the candles in the cave had burned down. Jebel had been replacing the dead candles from a stash in one of the walls, but he had made up his mind not to fetch any more when the current batch flickered out. When the last was quenched, he would live as a shadow in a world without light.

Jebel might have remained in the caves until the end of his days, a silent, lost hermit, except fate hadn’t finished with him. One day, after a dark, timeless age, he heard somebody coming. The person was moving quietly, but Jebel’s ears were attuned to silence, and he could have heard a spider scuttling.

Jebel positioned himself in a pitch-black tunnel and watched as a man with a candle entered the cave. Jebel knew the man, but he didn’t want to call out. If he did, he would be dragged back into the real world. It was safer to squat here in the darkness, let the man leave, and hide in the abandoned caves forever.

The man explored the cave, then climbed into one of the tunnels that led to the surface. Jebel wanted to let him go but was afraid the man might wander too close to the cliff, drawn by the spectacle of Bush and Blair. So he reluctantly broke his silence and spoke up.

“Tel Hesani.”

The Um Kheshabah whirled around. When the boy stepped forward, Tel Hesani’s face twitched with fear. “Jebel?” he croaked. “Are you a ghost?”

“No,” Jebel said, squinting as he moved into the light.

Tel Hesani stared at Jebel with disbelief, then broke into an incredulous grin. “Jebel Rum!” he roared, rushing forward and embracing the boy. “I thought you were dead. I’ve been searching the banks for your body.” He let go and took a step back, gazing at Jebel with wonder. “How did you survive?”

“I hitched a ride,” Jebel said softly.

Tel Hesani frowned. “With whom?”

“Death.”

Tel Hesani didn’t know how to respond to that. While he was searching for words, Jebel pointed at the ceiling. “Bush and Blair are up top.”

The Um Kheshabah’s lips curled. “Those fiends! I had a feeling we weren’t finished with them. Lead me to the monsters, and I’ll—”

“They’re dead,” said Jebel. “I tricked them and sacrificed them to the rock spirits. They’re trapped in the cliff now. They can’t ever leave.”

Tel Hesani blinked and shook his head. “Wonder heaped upon wonder.” He studied Jebel and saw the emptiness in the boy’s eyes, his stooped shoulders and distant expression. “You’ve been here alone all this time?”

“How long has it been?” Jebel replied without much interest.

“Nearly three weeks,” said Tel Hesani, sitting and gently tugging Jebel down beside him. “I fled after you fell into the as-Sudat. I found shelter, slept as best I could, then headed downriver to search for your body but also to come here. I knew I would be safe if I found my way back to Hamata. I could hole up for the rest of the winter, then sail back to Wadi in the spring and try to save the lives of my family.”

“It mustn’t have been easy, surviving out there,” Jebel remarked.

“It wasn’t,” Tel Hesani said softly. He was thinner than ever. He had aged fifteen years and didn’t carry himself as straight as he once did. He could have told Jebel of his recent trials, digging through the snow to find frozen berries, fighting off wolves to feast on the corpse of a deer, sleeping inside its carcass for warmth, fleeing from a bear. But he didn’t want to burden Jebel, as he felt the boy had suffered enough himself. “When do you want to leave?” he said instead.

The question took Jebel by surprise. “Leave?” he echoed.

“For Tubaygat. There’s still time. It will take a couple of months, but we might make it if luck is with us.”

“You want to go to Tubaygat?” Jebel asked stupidly. He had given up on the quest and barely thought of it recently. On the few occasions that he had, it struck him as the foolish fancy of a child who had known nothing of the world. “Why?”

“Why?” Tel Hesani exploded. “To save my wife and children, of course!”

“But it’s too late. I’m weary. It was a crazy quest. Forget about them. We’ll stay here and—”

Tel Hesani slapped Jebel sharply. Jebel gaped at him, slack-jawed. Tel Hesani slapped him again. He was raising his hand a third time, when Jebel’s face filled with fury and he pushed himself away.

“What are you doing?” he screamed. “You can’t slap me! You’re a slave! I’ll have you whipped and executed for this!”

“That’s more like it,” Tel Hesani chuckled. “I knew I’d find the old Jebel Rum somewhere within that shell.”

Jebel rubbed his cheek, staring wide-eyed at Tel Hesani. “You slapped me.”

“I had to.” He gripped Jebel’s hands. “We’ve both suffered more than anyone ever should, but we can’t let it break us. We have to go on. I must save my family, and you need to restore your honor.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Jebel said. “It seems foolish now. What does honor matter in this world of villains and pain?”

“You won’t think that way when you’re back in Wadi, an executioner, respected by everyone, loved by your father, wed to a beautiful maid.”

Jebel shook his head. “I don’t know. I was… I wouldn’t say happy exactly… but content. I…”

He stopped, realizing he sounded just like Bush and Blair. He trembled, remembering their gruesome end, then wondered if their spirits were taking him over.

“All right,” Jebel said in a rush, sweating at the thought that the ghosts of the dead Masters might appear. “Let’s go to Tubaygat and finish what we started. I don’t care anymore, but we’ll do it if you want. I’m ready.”

“Easy,” Tel Hesani said as Jebel jumped to his feet. “The way north is long and hard. We need to stock up on clothes, blankets, food. We don’t have to rush. A few hours won’t make much difference one way or another.”

Jebel hesitated. “An hour,” he decided. “Pack what you can. Then we’re out of here. At least I am. You can follow whenever you like.”

“An hour,” Tel Hesani agreed, then smiled encouragingly. “I’ll never leave you again. You have my oath. I’ll be with you every step of the way to Tubaygat. After that…” He shrugged. “You won’t need me then, will you?”

“No,” Jebel said, shifting uncomfortably. “I suppose I won’t.”

Then he sat in the darkness, staring at nothing, while Tel Hesani scoured the cave and those beyond in search of materials to aid them in their final push north.

It was a long, tiring, but uncomplicated trek. Winter passed as they marched, and spring came to Abu Saga, longer days, lessening storms, floods as ice and snow melted and fed the rivers and streams. The world turned green around them. New creatures and birds filled the plains and mountains. Boats passed frequently on the as-Sudat, ferrying goods to or from the mines. This was the busiest time of year for the river traders. They carted mounds of iron and minerals south, while others shipped supplies to the isolated miners, who would be close to starving after the trials of winter.

Jebel and Tel Hesani crossed the river and followed it north along its eastern bank. They were careful not to reveal themselves to anyone, either on the boats or in the villages they passed. When they needed food, they raided sheds in the dead of night, but most of the time they were able to pluck wild berries or hunt goats.

Tel Hesani told Jebel all that had happened to him since they’d been parted, and Jebel recounted his trip downriver with Rakhebt Wadak. Tel Hesani thought the boy must have dreamt it, but Jebel knew it was no dream. He had seen the god of death and struck a bargain with him. Nothing Tel Hesani said could shake his belief in that.

They made good time until they hit the al-Meata, where the path rose. The snows melted there only at the height of summer — and in some of the higher parts, not even then. They cut directly north, following the route of the as-Sudat where they could but having to detour away from it much of the time.

The ground was treacherous. Jebel had assumed that the division of the al-Tawla and al-Meata was purely political, that they were part of the same mountain range. Now he saw that wasn’t so. While they were only separated by the barrier of the as-Sudat, they were entirely different formations. Where the rocks of the al-Tawla were firm, these were brittle and unpredictable. The ground was only an inch thick in some parts, giving way to murderous chasms and pits. It was a simple matter to plummet to your death, so Jebel and Tel Hesani had to pick their way through, moving even slower than they had in the swamps of Abu Nekhele. Sometimes they had to circle for hours before finding a path they could trust.

They spotted many people on the western banks of the as-Sudat, mostly miners and traders. But only a brave or crazed few made their living on the eastern side of the river. They saw a few lonely miners in the distance, some scrawny shepherds and goatherders, but otherwise they had the mountains to themselves.

It was a time for reflection. Jebel had regained some of his vitality and was mildly excited to be closing in on Tubaygat. But he was troubled too and often fell to studying Tel Hesani, trying to imagine himself driving a knife into the Um Kheshabah’s chest or slitting his throat.

It had been easy in the beginning. Tel Hesani was a slave, fit only for execution. Now Jebel considered him a friend. Could he brutally end the older man’s life and send him to the hold of Rakhebt Wadak’s boat?

Jebel knew that he must, or the quest would have been for nothing, but he wasn’t sure that he could. He prayed to the gods to steady his hand when the time came, but he didn’t think they were listening. In a strange sort of way, he almost wished they weren’t.

They came to the point where the as-Sudat branched. One of its main tributaries veered to the west slightly before continuing north. The other cut to the northeast. This was regarded by most people as the key tributary, the true birthplace of the river. If Jebel and Tel Hesani followed this, they would come in the end to the river’s cradle, the legendary mountain of Tubaygat.

They rested at the river fork that night, studying the lights of the mines to the west, trying to count them but losing track after a while, like when a person tries to count the stars. Neither said it, but both were thinking the same thing — this was their last glimpse of civilization. No miners were foolhardy enough to ply their trade east of this point. All shepherds and goatherders kept their flocks far from Tubaygat. Complete desolation lay ahead of them. They were bidding farewell to the world of man, and at least one of them would never see it again.

“Do you think there’s a god in Tubaygat?” Jebel asked.

Tel Hesani squinted. “Why ask me that now? You never doubted before.”

Jebel shrugged, not wanting to admit out loud that he no longer had faith in the teachings of his elders. “It’s been decades since anyone successfully petitioned Sabbah Eid. What if the legends aren’t true, or if he returned to the heavens? What if we get there and it’s just a mountain?”

Tel Hesani was silent for a long time. Then he sighed. “Tubaygat is revered by races all over Makhras. It has to be more than an ordinary mountain. I’m not sure what we’ll find, but I’m certain it’s a place of mystery and wonder.”

“But if it’s not,” Jebel pressed. “If Sabbah Eid doesn’t exist. Do we return to Wadi? Will people believe we’ve come all this way if I return unchanged?”

Tel Hesani smiled grimly. “The Um Aineh are a wary, ungracious people. I wouldn’t hold out much hope of them accepting your word.”

“They’d probably execute me,” Jebel said glumly.

“Of course, you wouldn’t have to go back to Wadi,” said Tel Hesani. “You could visit other corners of the world, maybe become a trader.”

Jebel glanced up. “Would you come with me?”

“I couldn’t,” Tel Hesani said, staring south. “My wife and children are in Wadi. I’d have to try and save them.”

“But if it was too late…”

Tel Hesani shuddered. “I would go there anyway, to follow them into the realm of the dead. If I fail, I don’t want to live without them.”

Jebel had been poised to suggest a change of direction. He was ready to turn his back on Tubaygat and hail a ride south on one of the boats. But when Tel Hesani said that, Jebel held his tongue. He no longer had the heart for this quest, but if the alternatives were returning to Wadi to die or setting out alone into the world, he figured he might as well carry on. Perhaps a way out of their predicament would present itself farther up the path — but he doubted it.

They picked their way over the al-Meata, making camp each night and sleeping beneath thick rugs. They enjoyed the sun during the day but still had to wrap up warmly, because up this high it was never as hot as it looked. The mountains were ancient and dead, blackened and bare. Grass and wildflowers grew in occasional clumps, but for the most part the rock was unsuitable for plant life.

Large birds nested all over the place. They were able to fly great distances each day in search of food, and since so few predators lived there, it was safe to nest on the ground, among the barren rocks. Jebel and Tel Hesani survived by raiding the nests for eggs and eating the occasional hatchling.

One day they passed a pit in which lay the bones of two men, stripped white by the elements. They stared into the pit as they passed. These were possibly the remains of a quester and his sacrifice. They had come through much and made it so far, only to fall at this late hurdle. It made the pair wonder if a similar fate lay in store for them, if after all they had survived, they’d crash into a pit and perish shy of their goal. Both prayed to be spared such a wretched finale. Whatever lay before them at Tubaygat, they had come too far to fail now. They were determined to make it to the end, no matter how bitter it might prove to be.

Finally, late one afternoon, they rounded a bend and were confronted with the sight of a tall, broad, flat-topped mountain. It was unmistakably Tubaygat. Apart from its unique shape, it was darker than the other peaks, almost a perfect black, and smoke plumed upwards from a series of cracks and vents in the rocks.

They stared at Tubaygat in silence, filled with a sense of awe. Whether it was the home of a god or a mere geographical curiosity, this was a place of great impact, and no human could gaze upon it unmoved.

Tel Hesani looked to Jebel for a decision. “If we push on, we can maybe make it before dark,” he said. “But if you prefer, we can camp and wait for morning. We would have more shelter here.”

Jebel didn’t have to think long. “We’ll continue. I couldn’t sleep now that we’re this close.”

Tel Hesani felt the same, so they marched on. It was almost dusk when they arrived at the base of Tubaygat. They were panting from exertion and also from the heat — the rocks were even hotter here than at Hamata. They had to remove a layer of clothes as they stood in the shadow of the mountain.

There was a cave entrance nearby, nine feet high by seven wide. Large, jagged boulders stood on either side, like rocky sentries. It was the doorway to Sabbah Eid’s cave, exactly as described in the legends of the Um Aineh. According to the stories, only a successful quester and his companion could enter. All others would perish horrifically if they stepped across the threshold.

Jebel and Tel Hesani gulped, then started forward in silence. They passed the boulders and stood gazing into the darkness of the cave.

“Do you go first, or should I walk ahead of you?” Tel Hesani asked.

“I’m not sure,” Jebel said. “Maybe we should enter together.”

“I would like that.” Tel Hesani smiled. “And don’t worry. I’ll be beside you every step of the—”

Something struck the back of his head and he dropped, gasping with pain. Jebel thought a stone had fallen on Tel Hesani, and was bending to help him up, when a loud, angry voice froze the boy to the spot.

“Leave that cur alone, and stand with your hands over your head!”

The voice came from one of the boulders to Jebel’s left. Looking up, he saw half a dozen vicious, ragged creatures, five men and a woman, bone-thin, nicked with cuts and bites, their faces badly scarred, some missing ears, a nose, eyes, fingers. And at the front, the worst of the lot, both ears ripped off, one eye gone, a chunk torn out of his left cheek so that anyone looking at him from the side could see his tongue, was their leader — the crazed, enraged, vengeful Qasr Bint.