Through the Sands of Southern Deserts

by Slawomir Rapala

Table of Contents
Part 1 appears
in this issue.

part 2 of 4

The merchants’ fires danced in his eyes but in his mind they were the fires that consumed thousands of lives, and as they burnt into the night he could hear the agonized screams of those touched by the steel fist of war, of hatred, and of death. And he would look at his hands and in the light of the dying fires he would see them covered in blood, and would remember the men he slaughtered, the women he raped, the children he orphaned. He would remember the frenzied nights of madness when he danced on the battlefields covered in the fresh, steaming blood of his enemies, half naked and half crazed. And he would remember his long dead companions, and those nights when they marched together, singing and laughing as they killed, tortured, raped and maimed, drunk on the wine and on the madness that consumed their hearts.

The voices of his victims haunted him long into the night, and rarely did he sleep, for as soon as he closed his eyes the images would come twice as hard, alive and vivid, colorful and lustful, calling him and reaching for him with their bloodied hands, eager to drag his aging body back into the madness of murder, back into the crazed hatred of war.

The first signs of sunlight would salvage him from the nightmares and he would mount his horse and leave even before the merchants woke. He would spend the morning traveling alone, scouring the horizon for any signs of danger, sometimes riding much further than necessary even, if he spotted something suspicious. Sometimes it was nothing more than a pack of vultures circling the sky, at other times the fresh tracks of hyenas and coyotes, or other signs of activity on this deserted, burnt and forsaken lands. Always, though, he tried to keep close to the merchant caravan, at least within earshot so that in an event of attack he would be able to come fast.

Nothing interrupted their journey, however, not even when they crossed the border and the threshold of the No Man’s Desert, venturing deeper into the scorched wasteland with each passing day. Change came only in the merchants’ behavior. They became weary as did the animals. Food was still abundant but water was being rationed, and both men and beasts felt its lack. They covered less distance in a day now, and their days were shorter. Eventually the caravan stopped journeying during daytime altogether and instead used the much cooler nights to press on. The days they spent sluggishly, lying on the burning sands in the shade of the wagons, resting from the travel and trying to endure the sizzling heat that made the sand so hot to the touch that it was impossible to walk on it barefoot.

Only Aezubah, the mysterious General whose name was already a legend long before most of them were born, only he seemed to be unaffected by the heat and continued to scour the horizon during the day. His horse, a short and stocky animal, one which at first glance the merchants dismissed as worthless, proved to be an excellent beast and carried its rider with little effort despite the tremendous heat. The Estratians watched the horse and rider from where they sat, exchanging glances and comments.

“He isn’t human, this one, impossible,” one said.

“And that horse is no normal beast, either,” another one added as he sipped a bit of water from the leather sack hidden the shade of the wagon.

“I never see them sleep.”

“I don’t think they do,” a third men added. “Even when he rests, his eyes are open and you can see him watching.”

“No one can go this far with no sleep, not in this heat.”

“Do you ever see them eat or drink?”

“He feeds his horse in the morning, I saw him once or twice,” the first man reached for the water sack. “He talks to the animal, whispers into its ear.”

“Spells?”

“Who knows?” the merchant shrugged. “He’s more than human, I can tell you that.”

“Is he a wizard, though?”

“We’ve all heard stories about him,” another Estratian nodded.

Inzano listened to the men talk as he sat with his father, their backs leaning against their wagon. It was full of gold and goods that he hoped to trade in Estrata and secure his family for the few years to come. It would enable him to leave the life of a travelling merchant . He hated it, and being away from his wife and children for so long made him depressed and agitated. Perhaps he would now be able to open a wood shop, something he had always hoped for. It was something that a small town like his really needed.

“You hear that?” Erwolfe interrupted his thoughts. “The men are going mad from the heat.”

Inzano shrugged and looked out into the desert. Just a moment ago he saw Aezubah’s lone figure out in the horizon directly before him. The General left them early in the morning when they broke camp and disappeared without word. Inzano only spotted him later, but he was gone once more.

“What do you want me to do about it?” he was tired of his father’s never-ending remarks regarding their mysterious companion.

“I’m still not sure whether it was a good idea to bring him along,” Erwolfe looked into his son’s face, his bushy eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t bring him along,” Inzano sighed and leaned his burning head against the boards of the wagon. “He was coming this way anyway and it’s not like he’s travelling with us. We barely see him.”

“That’s what I mean, though,” his father insisted. “A man doesn’t behave like that unless he has something to hide.”

Inzano said nothing.

“We have to put an end to this before the men go mad altogether. They already view him as a god of sorts, a sorcerer, or wizard.”

“What do you want me to do?” The heat was making Inzano impatient. He ran his fingers through his bright red hair. “You want me to tell him to go away? He’s going the same way, isn’t he?”

“We should do something,” Erwolfe repeated stubbornly.

“Like what? Tie him down to his horse and have a man lead him behind the caravan? Has the heat stricken your mind as well, old man?”

“That’s one solution,” the aged merchant kept his poise.

“It’s Aezubah, for gods’ sake!” Inzano said shaking his head. “You don’t stand up to him! It’s the bloody General.”

“Yes, but whose General is he? To which king has he pledged allegiance?”

“To all of them at one point or another,” Aezubah said quietly as he stepped out from behind the wagon. His horse followed him obediently, though the men could see no reins in his hand. Inzano rose quickly to his feet.

“Speak of the devil,” Erwolfe muttered under his breath and remained sitting.

“We didn’t hear you coming,” Inzano silenced his father with a stern gaze.

“The sands of No Man’s are soft,” the General said. “Thus dangerous.”

“Maybe he flew in on the wings of hell,” Erwolfe was slowly rising to his feet now, his eyebrows pulled together in anger.

“Father!” Inzano turned with an exasperated gasp. The old man shrugged.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me, old timer?” Aezubah asked him calmly. A soft smile lingered on his lips.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just overcome with heat,” Inzano grabbed his father by the arm and led him a few paces away.

“Get some rest, old man,” he said with a hint of anger in his voice. “You’ll do me no good in the state you’re in!”

Erwolfe shook his son’s hand off his arm and looked sternly at him. “You remember your place, son!” he raised his voice. “I will not tolerate an insolent youth speaking to me this way, especially not one of my own stock!”

“And I will not tolerate a frantic old man running amuck in my caravan!” Inzano snapped back. He then turned on his heels and started back towards Aezubah who watched the entire scene with amusement. Erwolfe muttered something to himself in anger, but walked away defeated.

“I must apologize for my father,” Inzano said with unease.

The General only shrugged in response. Inzano looked around uncertainly. The camp seemed quiet and that was what worried him. Knowing his men, Inzano was sure that all of them held their ears sharp so as not to miss a word of what was to be said.

“I was about to go for a bit of a walk,” he said finally. “I’d appreciate some company.”

“In this heat?” a smile still lingered on Aezubah’s lips. “You should be resting, there’s a long night ahead of you.”

“I can’t sleep,” Inzano pleaded with his eyes.

“All right, I guess I can stretch my bones as well,” the aged warrior replied with humor. “Been riding all morning.”

They strolled slowly away from the camp. Away from the shade of the wagons, as meagre as it was, the heat was incredible.

“I need to talk to you,” Inzano said once they were a safe distance away. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, not knowing what to say next and where to start. The General did not seem too eager to come to his aid.

“The men are restless,” the Estratian remarked finally.

“The heat is terrible,” the General agreed good-naturedly.

“Yeah,” Inzano nodded. He rubbed his forehead again. “It’s more than that, though.”

“Oh?” the aging warrior seemed genuinely surprised.

“They feel uncomfortable around you,” Inzano gathered his courage and threw the words out in one breath. Aezubah raised his bushy eyebrows.

“Are you asking me to leave?”

Inzano scratched his head. “What would be the point?” he asked uneasily. “We are travelling the same way.”

“What would you have me do, then?”

“I’m not sure,” the Estratian merchant admitted after a moment of silence.

The sun burnt bright as it traversed the sky, scorching the broken earth with its fiery breath. The air was still.

“Maybe the heat’s getting to me as well,” Inzano whispered, wetting his broken lips. He looked at the General. “Why is it that the heat has so little effect on you?”

“I’ve been out here many a time before,” Aezubah shrugged. “Anyway, at my age, you tend to dry up altogether. A bit of sun feels good on the old bones, you know? I spent much of my life in the kingdoms of the Far North. Mountains of snow, raging blizzards, stretches of ice fields as far as the eye can see; these things take their toll on the body of an old man.”

“I’ve never even seen the snow,” Inzano said quietly.

They were far away from the camp now. A few boulders appeared out of nowhere, offering a bit of shade. They sat down.

“I’ve seen entire kingdoms covered with snow and ice,” Aezubah smiled.

“Do you miss it?”

“A bit, I suppose,” the General nodded his head. “So much time I spent in those places. So many armies I led, so many wars I fought. So many battles I’ve seen.”

Inzano was quiet. The aging warrior seemed lost in thought.

“Why do you travel south then?” the merchant hesitated a question after a while.

“Many kings wish me dead,” Aezubah shook his head with bitterness. “Many kingdoms close their gates. Even my own.”

“Bandikoy?”

“I grew up here, you know?” the General looked up at the empty blue sky. There was not even one cloud on it. “This was my home once. Now...” he waved his hand. “Now they tell me to go away.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So I go.”

“Where to?”

“Who knows?” Aezubah smiled. “Some place will have me.”

“Must be sad to be so alone in the world,” the merchant remarked quietly. The General said nothing in return. Inzano played with his hands.

“My wife, you know, she makes the best cabbage rolls,” he said after a while.

“What?” the General looked up.

“Yeah,” the merchant nodded. “She’s the best damn cook in the kingdom.”

“Must be nice to have someone like that to come home to,” Aezubah smiled.

“It is,” Inzano said. “You’re, uhm...” he hesitated, but then finished firmly: “You’re welcome to come and have a taste.’

“Cabbage rolls?” the smile still lingered on the General’s thin lips.

“Best in the kingdom, guaranteed.”

“I don’t think your father would be too pleased.”

The red-haired Estratian waved his hand impatiently. “My father!” he scoffed. “He’s always trying to run my life. You know, he’s the reason I became a merchant.”

“You don’t like the life?”

“I hate it,” Inzano admitted. He picked up a rock and weighed in his hand. “I never wanted this life.”

“What would you rather do?”

“I love working with wood,” Inzano examined the red stone. “Have my own shop maybe. Spend time with my wife and children.”

“You have children?”

“Two sons,” the merchant smiled. “Haven’t seen them for six months.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Every day,” Inzano threw the rock far away. It hit the sand with a soft thud.

“You will see them soon.”

They sat in silence for a long time, enjoying the shade of the rocks, hiding away from the scorching rays of the sun as it traveled the sky.

“Will you do something for me?” Inzano asked.

“If I can,” Aezubah said.

The merchant reached into his shirt, then opened his hand and displayed a simple gold ring resting on his palm.

“It’s my wedding ring,” he said. He handed it to the General.

“Will you give it to my wife if something happens to me?”

The aging warrior looked into the merchant’s eyes.

“Her name’s Bella, she lives in the town of Tsua,” Inzano added.

“You will give it to her,” Aezubah said, looking past the man.

“I will if I can,” Inzano insisted. “But... Look, maybe it’s the heat, but I just...” he stopped. “Just keep it for now. When we cross No Man’s Desert you can give it back to me, all right?”

“Why do you trust me with it?” Aezubah asked. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you,” Inzano said. “You’re the General. You led Bandikoyan armies before I was born. You reached the Roof of the World and slew the Ice Dragon. You travelled the marshes of Yytia and lived with the reptilian race. You fought the slave-traders in Estrata and the Tha-ka. You saved kingdoms and thousands of lives.”

“And destroyed many more,” Aezubah whispered. “I see that now.”

“Your deeds will be weighed as everyone else’s. Leave it to the gods, they are just.”

“Are they?” Aezubah’s voice was bitter.

“Will you keep it for me?” Inzano extended his hand once more.

“I will,” the General took the gold band and hid it in his britches

They sat in the shade of the rocks for the rest of the day, exchanging but a few words. The world was quiet around them. Only the wind would pick up from time to time and it would shift the sands before them with a quiet whisper.

* * *

The nightmare woke him almost as soon as he dozed off, his head dropping to his armor-clad chest. His chin touched the metal rings, blood rushed in to flood his thoughts, the screams of the butchered filled his ears and a flash of lightening tore through the sky, turning night to day. His hand reached for the sword and unsheathed it long before he was even aware of the nightmare around him. His head jerked up and his eyes opened to the bloodshed. This was his world. The screams of the dying would render most men frightened and powerless, but to him they were a glorious song, and he sprang into action almost as soon as he heard them, almost as soon as his hand touched the familiar handle of his sword, and almost as soon as his eyes opened.

The fire was dying. The air was almost still even though it was already late in the evening. The heat was intense, distorting his vision and his mind, twisting the shadows before him into monstrous shapes. His ears registered pained screams of the dying and the agonized breathing of those cut down and those lying beneath his feet. He swung blindly at a screaming shape as it ran at him, its metal weapons slicing the air and threatening to sever the head from his body. He swung again and again, feeling the blade sinking into soft tissue. He swung wildly, with hatred and such force that the beast crumbled before him and collapsed to the ground with a faint cry.

More shadows rushed at him and his arm ran forward to meet them, his hungry sword eager to taste their black flesh and to drink their blood. Another shadow tumbled to his feet as he ran the sword cleanly through its shapeless body. He crushed its skull with a heavy foot and trampled on, tripping over the corpses of the fallen in a murderous frenzy, slipping on pools of blood, struggling towards the dying flame, his guiding light. The shadows swarmed all around him, snapping their heads and screaming into his ears as he swung his blade at them.

The air sizzled from the heat and then he saw more light, so much light, so much fire that it nearly killed him. The heat twisted and warped the shadows that surrounded and restrained him with powerful arms, and then he could no longer see the dark shapes and he could only hear their vicious screams and their hateful laughter Then there was nothing more, only the intense heat burning his face and his body, and he breathed the fire, and he screamed it, and then there was nothing else, only the fires of hell, the hell that had hunted him down and had finally engulfed him... For his sins, for his sins, a voice echoed in his head...

To be continued...