The Way of the Black Beast (9 page)

About halfway across, the river became shallow, and the Muyaza halted for the old magician to rest a moment. Water passed over their feet and splashed on their ankles. Malja glanced back to see the village had become tiny. That's when she saw the Bluesman.

She whipped out her spyglass to check — another dark-skinned, dark suited fellow with a guitar. This one had a gray beard and one eye clouded over. He argued with the Muyaza. Probably wanted them to hurry.

"Something wrong?" Fawbry asked.

"No," she said, closing the spyglass. "Not yet."

When they reached the opposite shore, they thanked the Muyaza. The men nodded. The village on this side mirrored the one they had left as if the river had cut one village in half. The two litter-carriers set the old magician down with great care as a young woman arrived to guide him to the food table.

Malja mounted her horse, invigorated to be on an animal on solid ground again. "Let's get moving."

The hours that followed threatened to bring about the ghosts of Malja's memory, but she managed to deflect such thought by focusing on Dead Lake. Fawbry called it a reminder of how the Devastation had changed the world. Before, the area had been composed of hills and forests, roads and towns, houses and families. Children played in their yards, climbing trees and throwing balls. Mothers and fathers worked to better their families and society. Magicians strolled the streets like holy leaders of peace and prosperity.

In the instant of the Devastation, the town vanished. A giant hole engulfed the land and rains filled it in. Those unfortunate enough not to disappear with the land and roads and homes floated in the new lake, adding their blood to the water.

All these years later, little life had returned. The innocent blood poisoned the shores. Nothing grew. Gray rocks littered the ground and the occasional bone washed up in the limp tides. It reminded Malja of the Freelands — a dark, wet version.

Hazy fog rolled off the waters bringing on night a few hours early. Tommy shifted in the saddle, and Malja tried to comfort him with a firm hold, but he shirked off her arm. The horses' various sounds — hoof against stone, air forced through nostrils, headshakes jingling reins — amplified in the narrowing visibility. Malja's eyes never ceased searching for threats.

"Almost there," Fawbry said, his eagerness unmistakable.

All of what counted for civilization lay so far back that Malja understood why Fawbry might feel safe here. Desolate and destroyed, the area would be lonely, but alone and alive sounded better than surrounded by others and dead. A figure appeared in the haze causing Malja to reconsider the "alone" part.

"It's okay," Fawbry said. "They're just the Chi-Chun."

"I thought they were a story."

"No, the Chi-Chun have existed for a long time. I'm not saying they really have the magic to ward off the dead. Frankly, I don't really believe the dead are going to rise. But they believe."

As they rode by, Tommy's hand trembled. Malja fought off the urge to respond. The Chi-Chun presented a frightening figure. He stood six feet tall, but seemed bigger, framed by bony trees and thin foliage. He wore a frayed, black robe — tattered cloth that draped him like seaweed. He stood motionless with his hooded head hung low and his arms outstretched. Malja imagined the pain his arms would radiate after only a few minutes. If the stories were true, he would stand like that for several hours.

Fawbry explained that the Chi-Chun were a sect of Korstrians that had few but highly devoted followers. They believed Dead Lake was the epicenter of the Devastation and if not constantly kept in check, a second blast would occur, strong enough to ensure extinction for every living thing. "According to their texts, the first sign of this blast will be the return of all the dead at Dead Lake," Fawbry said with a derisive snort.

"Wait, wait," Malja said. "You can read?"

"No, of course not," he said with a fumbling cough. "And if I could, I wouldn't waste my time with Chi-Chun nonsense. I mean, they spend hours like that for what? Another will come along to relieve them. Then they go to their little commune, pray, eat, sleep, start all over. Nothing else. What kind of life is that?"

Malja settled back in the saddle. She didn't care about the Chi-Chun, but to find another who could read thrilled her. He could deny it all he wanted, but she had heard the education in his voice earlier, and now he let slip that he could read.

Gregor had taught her and if for nothing else, she loved him for that infinite gift. Jarik and Callib had taught her much as well but only what served them — never what would solely benefit her. Teaching a child should be an act of love in many ways. For Jarik and Callib, it was an act of control.

Over the next hour, they saw three more Chi-Chun. One stood unsteady, his arms shaking. Fawbry said that one must be new. Malja thought they looked like creepy scarecrows. They existed, after all, to scare away the dead.

"We're here," Fawbry said, but to Malja, this patch of gray looked much the same as any other they had traveled across.

Tommy nudged her and pointed to the one difference. A decrepit, wooden dock poked out into the water like a splinter. The lake lapped against it with a steady, dull clap. A Chi-Chun stood her outstretched vigil at the tip of the dock like a ghost forever waiting a lover's return.

After dismounting and tethering the horses, Malja and Tommy stood back while Fawbry approached the lake. For a coward, he seemed to be quite gutsy. Fawbry squatted and slapped the water three times, paused, slapped three times, paused, and continued the pattern for a full minute. The Chi-Chun stiffened at the disruption but did not break her pose.

Fawbry straightened, cupped his mouth, and called out, "Barris! Barris Mont!"

Malja kept close watch on the motionless Chi-Chun and readied for an attack. Fawbry called out again, his voice fading in the fog but still crossing the water. The Chi-Chun lowered her arms, turned around, and removed her hood.

Her night-black skin hid most of her features like the dark lake hid its depths. Only her deep-set eyes — a bold, sickly yellow — and her matted hair — knotted with weeks of grime — revealed the dangerous mind beneath. She looked like the dead returned. Malja thought these Chi-Chun had taken the idea of studying the enemy a bit too far.

The woman advanced towards Fawbry, her agile and speedy feet surprising all. Malja started to retaliate but Fawbry put out his hand, motioning for her to wait. When the Chi-Chun reached him, she widened her eyes, pointed at him, and said, "Do not call upon the damned."

"Barris is not damned."

"Blasphemy! Do not speak such names or I shall call the power of Korstra, and with His might I shall lay a curse upon your head."

"Fine, fine. Just do it and get out of here, so I can call Barris Mont in peace."

The Chi-Chun woman sucked in air as if she might explode should she hear anything more. "You vile heathen."

"No, ma'am. You are the heathen. I follow the right and just Kryssta, the greater brother god, the true leader of all mankind."

"Blasphemy!" The woman pressed her thumb against Fawbry's chin. He did not move away, though he rolled his eyes and huffed disdain. "I curse thee," she said, her words seething hatred. "I curse thee in the name of Korstra, the wise and powerful brother god. Change your path, heathen, or this curse shall follow you always." She put her hood back on and kneeled at the edge of the shore. In seconds, her body swayed as she mumbled words Malja could not make out.

Fawbry waved Malja and Tommy over. "Don't worry," he said. "I've been cursed before by the Chi-Chun. If they have any real power, curses aren't it. Now that I say that, I can't think of anybody ever suffering from a curse. Must not be real."

"She's dangerous," Malja said, her wary eyes hawking the woman.

"Do you really think I'd stand up to her if she were?"

"Good point."

"Come. Onto the dock."

Malja waited. "I'm fine here." Having just crossed the Yad, even standing on a rickety dock overlooking a large lake felt too close to water.

Fawbry shook his head as if mocking a child but wisely left it at that. He walked out on the dock and tapped the water once more. Malja noticed that Tommy had left her side. He hovered near the Chi-Chun.
Facing his fears. Good.
Before she could say anything, a low groan bubbled up from the lake. Fawbry hurried back to the shore.

"He's here. He's here," he said, giddy and impatient.

The Chi-Chun woman inched back but continued her praying.

From the water, a dark object emerged. Malja thought, at first, she saw the head of a man, but as it moved closer, as it rose higher, she saw nothing that resembled a human form. The head-like shape became an eye, one of many, and its large size hinted at the creature coming.

To say Barris Mont was enormous was to say a grain of sand was small. The word failed to convey any real sense of proportion and power. Barris was massive. Taller than the trees and wider than a house, he moved with slow yet powerful grace. A monstrous, lumpy shape — soft and wet and malleable. Good for underwater living. Waves of fish odor pulsed off him. His purplish-black skin looked like an enormous bruise, and his eyes popped open at random points like blemishes. Worse were his legs. More than a tentacle but not as sturdy as a foot, Barris had so many he looked like a mound of dark meat atop thick, never-ending noodles.

The Chi-Chun let out a cry and pressed her head to the stony ground. Tommy watched in gasping disbelief. Fawbry danced about like a child expecting a new toy.

"Barris," he said when he finally regained a little control, "this is the warrior Malja and her companion, Tommy."

A gray appendage wormed out of Barris. Its prehensile tip settled on Fawbry's head. Fawbry closed his eyes and, with a relieved grin, grew rigid like a corpse shortly after a battle. Two similar appendages emerged and took hold of Tommy and the Chi-Chun. It had not happened quickly, yet Malja did not react. The sheer size of Barris had stunned her. But when she saw another gray snake coming for her, she snapped free from her awe.

She brandished Viper and took on a fighting stance. "Let go of them," she said.

In a deep, indecipherable voice, Barris spoke. His tones shook the ground. Leaves fell off trees. Two birds darted into the sky, cawing a frightened warning to others. Malja dropped to her knees and clutched her ears. Her bones radiated pain from the marrow outward as they vibrated against her muscles.

"Stop! Stop talking!" Her words sounded muffled, and she feared she might go deaf. He spoke no more. For now. Wiping at the tears in her eyes, she looked up at the sky and saw no end to Barris. She wobbled back to her feet. Weaving like a drunkard, she swung Viper toward the gray appendage attached to Tommy. Another splashed from the lake and slapped her down. As she hit the ground, a sharp rock poked the small of her back.

The gray tube, for she could think of nothing nicer to call it, still waited for her, its tip motioning for her to join. She stumbled to her feet, her body complaining at each movement. If Barris chose to speak again, Malja knew her ears would bleed and her body would fail. Death would come swiftly. But still that disgusting tube beckoned.

She wanted to check on Tommy, but her heart told her not to bother. She had failed the boy. Alive or dead, she had failed the boy.

No. I only fail if I do nothing.

She grabbed that gray tube so hard Barris let out a startled complaint — loud enough for Malja's legs to buckle, but she managed to stay upright. She pulled the tube closer. Another tube tried to strike her, but she wouldn't fall again. She dodged the attack with one step and with a second step, she planted her legs solidly.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said, knowing how absurd her words sounded, "and since Fawbry wanted to be here, I think you don't want to hurt us. So, you just let go of the boy, and I'll let go of you. We'll leave you in peace. Okay?"

Nothing happened.

"Fine. I'll go first," she said and let go of the gray tube.

Barris spoke. The ground shook as vibrations radiated outward with explosive force. A dying tree splintered and fell. Distant animals screeched and fled.

Malja collapsed as blood dribbled from her nose and ears. The pressure on her head brought spots to her eyes. She felt like the brother gods had each taken a side of her skull and pushed.

She rolled on the ground, clutching her head, trying to focus. She saw Tommy. Despite the vibrations shooting endless jolts straight through to her bones, she reached for the boy. Her breathing labored and her vision clouded. She rolled onto her back, fighting for air. She found Viper and tried to think of a way to strike back. But part of her mind began wondering what form Death would take.

Barris finally stopped. All fell into silence. Malja couldn't even hear her own heartbeat. She felt the gray tube slither across her leg. She held Viper now but could not find the strength to left her weapon. The tube entered her field of vision.

Barris did not hesitate. The tube lowered onto Malja's head.

"Malja, come here now," a voice called from behind. She knew that thin timbre — Callib. A terrified yelp surged up Malja's throat, but she clamped her mouth against it. Brutal lashings waited for her should she turn around. "Malja," Callib said, exasperated and harsh, "did you kill my dolyan birds?"