The Thin Executioner

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

As the Um Biyara leapt from the rocks, Tel Hesani struggled to his feet and drew a dagger. He tried to push Jebel behind him, but the boy refused to be shielded. “We fight together!” he cried, drawing a knife of his own.

“Very well, master,” Tel Hesani said with a wry smile. Then the Um Biyara were upon them.

The zealots outnumbered Jebel and Tel Hesani but were in a worse state than the boy and the Um Kheshabah. The bats and um Gathaah had savaged them, and the road to Tubaygat had drained them even further. Only their hatred had kept them going as their strength failed and survivors dropped along the way. It was by no means an even fight, but Jebel and Tel Hesani stood more of a chance than they would have in a fight with six healthy opponents.

Qasr Bint and three of the men struck at Tel Hesani, leaving the woman and the remaining man to deal with Jebel. The man wielded a spear, the woman a pair of knives. When the man jabbed at Jebel, the boy sidestepped, then deflected the woman’s blades as she followed up. He moved faster than his assailants, and even had time to strike at the man and open a wound on his right shoulder before preparing for the next attack.

To his left, Tel Hesani had killed the foremost of the Um Biyara, but that was no great achievement — the man was almost dead anyway. He had been pushed ahead to distract Tel Hesani as the others launched a coordinated attack. They struck rabidly, snarling and spitting as they dug at him with knives, spears, and sticks, forcing him to retreat.

Jebel’s pair closed in on him again. This time the woman came first, knives twirling, teeth bared. He avoided her first lunge and turned her second blade aside. But he couldn’t dodge the man’s spear as it jabbed into his hip, bounced off the bone, and ripped free of his flesh.

Jebel cried out but didn’t drop his guard. Though the man was too far away to hit, Jebel feinted at him, forcing him to take a half-step back. Then the boy lashed out at the woman and caught her left hand, slicing the top of it wide open, causing her to drop her knife and flail away from him.

Qasr Bint prodded the top of his staff into Tel Hesani’s face, working on his eyes, trying to blind him with the beak of the baby vulture’s head. But Tel Hesani kept his chin low, bobbing his head left and right.

As Jebel avoided another assault, one of the men with Qasr Bint stepped too close to Tel Hesani, and the Um Kheshabah drove his knife deep into the man’s throat. Before Qasr Bint and his remaining companion had time to take advantage of the situation, Tel Hesani slipped out of reach. The advantage was his now, and on a level field he would probably have gone on to dispatch the final pair. But the fragile rock of the al-Meata floor crumbled beneath him as his foot came down. Although there was no pit, the drop of a few inches sent him tumbling. Before he could steady himself, Qasr Bint was over him, screaming triumphantly. Tel Hesani caught a glimpse of the zealot’s staff raised high. Then Qasr Bint drove the tip — which he’d sharpened to a spearlike point — deep into Tel Hesani’s chest, just below his heart.

Tel Hesani roared with fierce pain. The world flashed white. His fingers went limp, and the knife dropped. He fell back, helpless. It was a fatal wound, and he knew he would be dead within minutes unless Qasr Bint chose to finish him off sooner.

Jebel saw Tel Hesani fall. Ignoring his own safety, he darted towards his one-time slave. The woman stuck her leg between his and tripped him. He crashed to his hands and knees, scraping them raw. Grimacing with pain, he propelled himself to his feet — but was knocked down by the man, who drove an elbow into the small of Jebel’s back, then pinned him to the ground while the woman disarmed him. When she’d done that, she replaced the man on Jebel’s back and perched on him like a wild cat, digging in with her nails.

Jebel struggled until he realized how futile it was. Pausing, he looked over to see what sort of a state Tel Hesani was in. Qasr Bint had withdrawn the tip of his staff and was staring at the blood oozing out of the hole. He looked disappointed, as if he was sorry to have finished the slave off this quickly.

“Can I kill the boy now?” the woman asked, pointing her knife first at Jebel’s left eye, then his right.

Qasr Bint shook his head. “Not yet.” Stepping away from the dying Tel Hesani, he stood before Jebel and grinned demonically. Because of the missing flesh in his cheek, the grin seemed to stretch around the side of his face.

“So, boy, we come to our end. I’m sure you thought you’d seen the last of Qasr Bint and his children. But although many wicked spirits fell foul of those accursed bats, the pure among us made it over the bridge. We fought back the um Gathaah, and then we pushed on. I knew you’d come here.”

“How?” Jebel moaned. “We never told you where we were going.”

“You think I don’t know the mark of a quester?” Qasr Bint roared, poking at Jebel’s right arm with his staff, where the tattoo of the coiled serpent was hidden beneath the um Wadi’s sleeve. “That’s the reason I chose you in the first place. I knew, when I saw you in the Uneishu, that you were a quester and his slave, on their way to worship the false god Sabbah Eid.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jebel asked.

Qasr Bint smirked. “I was biding my time. I’ve long been curious about this place. I decided the time was ripe to explore, to come here with you and expose your god for the fake that he is. But I didn’t want to reveal my hand too soon. You might have—”

Tel Hesani groaned. Qasr Bint glared at the Um Kheshabah, then looked at Jebel again, nervously now. “We planned to kill you when you arrived. You cursed our mission. You’re the reason we fell foul of the bat-worshippers. You need to be wiped from the face of Makhras forever. But…” He hesitated.

“The fire,” one of the men said softly, gazing at the cave. “We sent a woman in first, and an unearthly fire devoured her. She died screaming.” He gulped.

“There’s no such god as Sabbah Eid,” Qasr Bint snorted. “Our gods alone are real. But sometimes one of them gets trapped on Makhras and mistaken by fools for a different deity. Such a god obviously resides in Tubaygat.”

Qasr Bint squatted beside Jebel and forced his chin up, so that they were staring directly at each other. “You will die tonight, boy. But it can be slow or quick, depending on whether you work with us or not.”

“I don’t understand,” Jebel wheezed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take us in,” croaked Qasr Bint. “Only a quester and his companions can enter that cave. You’re going to get us inside. Once there, I’ll petition the god. When he sees that I am of the true faith, he will bless me with invincibility and great strength and send me forth to do the work of the Um Biyara. Impervious to harm, with the beating of any man, I’ll bring not just all of the people of Abu Saga to their knees in worship of the Biyara gods, but all of Makhras too. It’s time for the sinners of this world to see the light or perish.”

“You can’t,” Jebel said. “Only a quester can—”

“Don’t tell me my business!” Qasr Bint shouted, and kicked Jebel in the ribs. “You can guide us willingly, or we can force you. Choose.”

Jebel glanced from Qasr Bint to Tel Hesani, trying to think of a way out of this, but he couldn’t see any.

“All right,” Jebel said quietly. “I’ll do as you command.”

“A wise call.” Qasr Bint pointed to the two surviving men. “Grab the slave and bring him, in case he makes a miraculous recovery and sneaks up behind us.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to kill him?” one of the men asked.

“I want him to witness my ascension,” said Qasr Bint. “I want him to gaze into my eye before he dies and understand the greatness of the Um Biyara.”

Tel Hesani tried to respond but only coughed up blood. As he lay wheezing, the Um Biyara picked him up and moved to the mouth of the cave, where they stopped. “What if the fire comes again?” one of them asked.

“It won’t,” Qasr Bint said. “We have the quester with us now.”

“But if it does?” the man persisted. “How do we know that anyone ever walked out of there alive? The legends of successful questers might be nothing more than lies.”

Qasr Bint frowned, then jerked his thumb at the woman. “Go in with the boy.”

“But—” she started to protest.

“No arguments!” Qasr Bint barked, and pointed at her with the sharpened end of his staff. “If you don’t go, you’ll suffer far worse than death by fire.”

The woman cursed, then got off Jebel, grabbed his ear, and hauled him to his feet. He winced but didn’t struggle as the woman pushed him ahead of her, then past the men and Tel Hesani, into the shadows of the cave.

The heat increased the moment they entered, and grew by the second until Jebel thought that he was going to melt. Flames licked the walls around them, spouting from the rock. Fiery fingers extended towards Jebel and the woman, to consume them. But then they spat angrily around the pair and retreated.

“See?” Qasr Bint shouted, advancing excitedly. “I told you we’d be safe with the quester. Never doubt me again, you worthless worms!”

The two men holding Tel Hesani followed Qasr Bint into the cave, although they didn’t look as confident as their leader. When they reached Jebel, Qasr Bint grabbed the boy’s elbow and shoved him forward. “Don’t forget what I told you. Say nothing when the god appears. The glory will be mine alone. You are a mere tool. If you interfere, I’ll—”

“WHO BREAKS THE SILENCE?” came a godly roar.

Everybody stopped and stared. Far down the cave, they saw a ball of light floating closer — the source of the voice.

“WHO ENTERS THIS CAVE?” the voice roared, even louder than before.

Qasr Bint spread his arms. “Great god of the Biyara! Hear your loyal servant, Qasr Bint, and grant me the mercy of an audience.”

The ball of fire continued towards them and drew to a halt several feet short of the ecstatic Qasr Bint. For a moment it burned silently save for the crackle of the flames. Then the voice came again.

“I KNOW OF THE UM BIYARA. WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“We have quested,” Qasr Bint cried. “We come seeking power, to do the will of the mighty Biyara gods.”

There was a short pause. Then the voice said, “YOU LIE.” As Qasr Bint stared at the fire, astonished, the voice spoke to Jebel. “YOU ARE NOT UM BIYARA. YOU AND THE DYING ONE ARE DIFFERENT. WHERE ARE YOU FROM?”

“Abu Aineh,” said Jebel quietly. He wasn’t afraid of the fire, not after having sailed with Rakhebt Wadak on the river of death.

“AND THE DYING ONE IS YOUR SACRIFICE?”

“Yes,” Jebel said.

“Wait!” Qasr Bint shouted. “The boy and his slave don’t matter. They’re just—”

“YOU HAVE QUESTED?” the voice asked Jebel. “YOU OBEYED THE RULES OF THE QUEST AND TRAVELED ONLY BY LAND?”

“Yes,” said Jebel.

“THEN I WILL HEAR YOUR PETITION.”

“No!” Qasr Bint screamed. “You will listen to me! I am of the true faith, not a false idolater like—”

“I CARE NOTHING FOR FAITHS,” the voice cut him short. “I CARE ONLY FOR THE TRUTH. YOU ARE NOT A QUESTER. YOU LIED TO ME. SO FOR YOU AND YOUR FOLLOWERS, THERE SHALL BE ONLY THIS .”

The ball of fire exploded. Flames covered Qasr Bint and the last of the Um Biyara. They shrieked and thrashed around the cave as their skin bubbled away and their bones turned black, but their agonies were short-lived. They collapsed within seconds and were mounds of ash moments later — then not even that, blown away by a soft breeze that came from somewhere deep within the cave.

With no one to support him, Tel Hesani dropped to the floor. Jebel ducked to help him. He laid the Um Kheshabah flat, then tore off his tunic and jammed it into the hole in the man’s chest, trying to stop the flow of blood. Tel Hesani gazed at Jebel with a resigned expression. He shook his head and smiled faintly. “No use,” he whispered.

“No!” Jebel moaned. “I won’t let you die! I’ll—”

“QUESTER,” came the voice of the fire. When he looked up, a giant cobra with a man’s face hung in the air. Flames of gold ran up and down the snake’s spine, and its eyes were fiery red. It was the god he had traveled all this way to see — Sabbah Eid.

“YOU ARE A TRUE HERO,” Sabbah Eid said. “COMPLETE YOUR QUEST AND RECEIVE YOUR REWARD.”

Jebel stared at the god and didn’t reply.

“HURRY, BOY. THE SLAVE IS DYING. KILL HIM QUICKLY BEFORE HE IS LOST TO YOU.”

“No,” Jebel said softly.

“Jebel!” the Um Kheshabah coughed. “Don’t play… games. Kill… me.”

“No,” Jebel said, without glancing away from Sabbah Eid’s fierce, inhuman eyes. “I won’t. I can’t.”

“But… your quest,” Tel Hesani gasped. “If you… don’t kill… me, you’ll be…” Blood filled his throat, and he couldn’t continue.

Jebel looked away from Sabbah Eid and tilted Tel Hesani’s head to one side, allowing the blood to drain from his mouth. “I don’t care. You’re my friend. I won’t kill you.”

“But… I’m dying… anyway,” Tel Hesani protested weakly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jebel said, tears dripping from his cheeks. “I can’t do it. The gods and my people will damn me for this, but I don’t care about them. I don’t care about anything right now except you.”

Tel Hesani groaned, then gave a weak chuckle. “What a time… to develop… a conscience!” He reached for Jebel’s hand and squeezed. “I am… proud of you… my… friend.”

Tel Hesani smiled at Jebel. As he did, the smile froze, and in the depths of his eyes Jebel caught a brief glimpse of a supernatural river and a boat drifting slowly away from them.

Jebel lowered his friend’s head, closed the unflickering eyelids with his fingers, then said a prayer over the corpse of Tel Hesani and asked his spirit to wait for him awhile, as Jebel was sure he would be joining him soon on Rakhebt Wadak’s ferry of the dead.