The City of Pillars (21 page)

The match should have been over as Omar landed in a defenseless position. However, he rolled to his feet and renewed his attack.

“Omar!” Melek shouted, angered his lieutenant would continue without his permission.

The cry fell on deaf ears. Andrasta engaged him, deflecting a series of quick slashes and fast thrusts. The tip of her sword flicked up, blade licking across Omar’s hand. He lost his scimitar again. Andrasta planted a boot in his stomach. Air left Omar’s lungs and he folded in half at the waist.

Her sword touched his throat.

“Enough!” shouted Melek.

Andrasta backed away.

Melek gestured to two men nearby. “Remove the lieutenant from the circle and see that his hand is mended.” He entered the practice area and glared at everyone in attendance. “Let this be a lesson to each of you that it’s time to put your prejudice aside. Foreigner or not, woman or not, former enemy or not, you will each take instruction from Andrasta. Anyone who refuses will be kicked out of the Host. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Captain,” was repeated by all.

“Form into lines. Your first lesson begins tonight.” He unsheathed his sword and took his place at the front. He felt their shocked expressions and ignored them.

Melek cleared his throat. “Andrasta. Begin when ready.”

* * *

Deep into the night, Andrasta finally called for an end to the training session. Red eyes, drooping shoulders, and shuffling steps of the men brought a satisfied smile to her face. She had only trained one other person in her entire life and that had been a broken and battered minstrel with no fighting experience. The frustration of training Rondel in those early months had often manifested in the physical abuse she put him through. Still, even when the two were on less than amiable terms, she had never pushed him as hard as she had Hubul’s Host.

A lesson more than worthy of you, Master Enzi,
she thought, remembering the hell she had often gone through when he tried to break her. Later, she learned from him how to push herself while still allowing the body time to recover.

She had ignored those lessons with the Host this once. She too felt weary, having performed every repetition of every drill alongside them, proving that she could not only do everything she had commanded them to do, but also do it better. She had ignored every urge to slouch, to sit, and even drink. Not until alone, would she relax. Watching each man walk by, she saw plenty of hate, but also the beginnings of respect.

Melek separated himself from the others and walked over. Halfway through the drills he had removed his robes, armor, and undershirt, continuing naked to the waist. Several others followed, all presenting bodies scarred and hardened from the rough lives they had led. None impressed Andrasta in the same way as Melek’s lean and balanced figure.

She swallowed, suddenly embarrassed by the desires creeping into her mind.

A smirk formed on his face. She scowled, hoping he had not read her thoughts.

“You are a hard instructor,” he said. Black hair glistened on his bare chest. It rose steadily with each deep breath.

She blinked away her thoughts. “Master Enzi was much harder, especially with the young. But if I were to use those techniques your men would never recuperate in time to recover the mask.”

“Really?”

“I have the scars to prove it.”

He frowned. “Is that where you earned the one here?” he asked, gesturing to her face.

She looked away, embarrassed. People had commented on the scar for as long as she’d had it. Yet, it still bothered her greatly to hear someone point it out. The scar brought back certain inadequacies from her youth she had never gotten over.

“No,” she finally answered. “It was given to me before I met Master Enzi.”

Melek cleared his throat. “My apologies. I see it’s something that bothers you. I shouldn’t have been so forward.”

Andrasta said nothing which only embarrassed her further as it let Melek know it did bother her.

“Back to what you said about recovery—”

Andrasta seized on the chance to break out of the awkward conversation. “Future sessions will not be so . . . intense.”

“Good. As you said, I want them able to fight if the need arises. I do think what you did tonight made sense though. It and your defeat of Omar should help the men get over their prejudices more quickly. Get yourself cleaned up. Once you’re done, see Khalil. I’d like you to speak with him before retiring. While talking with him, ask any other questions you might have.”

Melek gave a nod, then left. She tried not to stare with too much interest at his retreating back.

It was not an easy task.

* * *

Andrasta found Khalil sitting cross-legged at the edge of camp on the sand near a small bronze statue standing atop a thin slab of limestone. The statue stood three feet tall with arms raised overhead in the formation of a circle. The legs of the statue bent in an odd fashion, forming another circle. The face lacked all detail, blank in its features. The body was nude and sculpted in a way that made the image appear like it belonged to an athlete.

She froze some feet away, not wanting to interrupt the sorcerer in what she assumed to be prayer as he bowed and prostrated himself before the image.

After a few boring minutes of staring at the statue, she felt she could likely sculpt one from memory. Khalil had yet to move, remaining silent in his prayer.

Is the old man awake?

Khalil sat up with a heavy sigh. He opened his eyes. “Thank you for your patience. Please, come have a seat. I saw your training earlier. I imagine you could do with a rest.”

She didn’t want to admit the truth, but took a seat anyway. “I was deciding whether I should leave. I thought you may have fallen asleep.”

He smiled. “Not this time, though I’m embarrassed to say that it does happen more frequently as I age.” He paused. “From that look, I take it you’ve never prayed so fervently yourself.”

“Once.”

“And was your effort rewarded?”

She refrained from bringing her hand up to touch the scar at her face, remembering that when she had removed the bandages after days of prayer, the flesh remained damaged. “No.”

“Are you certain? Sometimes the reward we’re granted is not the one we seek. Maybe your answer was for the best, only you didn’t know—”

“Don’t presume things you aren’t familiar with.” Andrasta thought of all she had gone through. “I have no use for religion. I’d rather put my faith in myself than a statue.”

“I don’t put my faith in the statue. It is merely a representation of Hubul. And I pray before it, not to it. The statue is simply a way to show him honor.”

“It seems someone as powerful as Hubul is supposed to be would not care about a silly statue. To me, suggesting that something earthly could possibly honor something heavenly is an insult to the god. Aren’t your prayers and your commitment to the Host more honorable than prostrating before a piece of rock? Does Hubul somehow recognize the prayers said into stone ears over those whispered in the silence before sleep?”

Khalil scowled. “I thought your partner was supposed to be the intellectual, but I see you’re also a philosopher.”

“No. I just see things as they are.” She paused. “I was told you had answers to my questions. I’m not here to talk religion, or insult you and your beliefs.”

Khalil nodded. “Fair enough. Then let’s put religion aside for now. Ask your questions.”

“Who is Shadya?”

He grunted. “You start with the difficult ones. All we know is that she has been an ally to Nasnas from the beginning and therefore an enemy of the Host for as long as we have existed. She has used many names. Shadya is simply the one she chose before entering Zafar. For a while, we thought she was a powerful djinn, but the annals describe previous encounters with her in ways that would contradict such a thing. Her power is different. We know that like Nasnas, she grows greater in power once the heavenly alignment begins. This increases until the alignment is over. We thought we had killed her some weeks ago. I swore I had identified her body. But we learned soon afterward she tricked us. That was right when her power began to grow.”

“She’s good with wards,” offered Andrasta.

“Exceptional with wards, actually. We sent a powerful ghul out to kill her while she was still in Zafar. The wards I put in place were some of the strongest I know. Somehow she not only broke them, but also brought the creature under her command.”

A thought struck Andrasta. “The camel?”

“Likely.”

Andrasta swore.
I should have killed the thing when I had the chance.

“Shadya is not only great with wards though. She has also shown evidence of physical strength. But again, that’s only once the heavenly alignment begins.”

“How long does the alignment last?”

“The build up is a couple of months. Her power dwindles quickly after it ends.”

“What else?”

“I’m afraid that’s it. You’d think that after thousands of years, we’d know more, but she’s done a good job of keeping her identity a secret. Many, including myself, believe she’s one of the fallen gods who were punished by Hubul.”

Andrasta had other questions on her mind about Shadya, but her eyelids drooped. She decided that she could wait to learn the answers to all but one.

“Why is Rondel so important to her?”

“Why him specifically? I don’t know. The rules around the ritual for Nasnas’s resurrection are a bit muddled. Our oldest records were written thousands of years ago and I’m ashamed to say we lost some of the information about the ritual’s details. What we do know is that blood from both a godly creature and a human is needed in order to unlock the power in the Mask of Halves. It seems your partner was selected as the human in question.”

“He’s to be sacrificed?”

Khalil shrugged. “That I don’t know. But his blood will be needed.”

She swore again.
I’m going to kill you myself, Shadya.

Khalil cleared his throat. “May I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Why is Rondel so important to you? Considering what we’ve learned about you and your partner, you’ve only been together for a short period of time. Yet, you seem more loyal to him than most in your profession would be.”

“He’s more than a partner.”

Khalil raised an eyebrow. “A lover?”

“No.” She refused to elaborate.

“Do you think he would risk his life for you as you’re willing to risk yours for him?”

Andrasta thought of all she and Rondel had gone through in their short time together. Starting with their prison escape, he had distracted Fern so she might live. He also was ready to fight Nizam while bringing down the Cult of Sutek.

And that’s only the beginning.

“He already has.”

CHAPTER 18

Rondel’s hell continued through another week. Each day they traveled from dawn until dusk in the blistering sun, pushing toward the City of Pillars before the alignment of the heavens completed.

He had traveled at a brutal pace many times before, especially with Andrasta. However, he didn’t have his wrists bound then. The small restriction added a great deal of discomfort in the saddle.

The company he kept did little to improve the situation. There was small talk here and there with Shadya. The woman stayed distant most of the time, focusing instead on discussing Nasnas or their unborn child.

It’s like she thinks that by continually talking about the abomination I helped create, I might actually grow committed.

What did I do to deserve this?

Let’s see . . . years of being a mule, taking advantage of women, destroying marriages, and just generally being selfish. All right, so I deserve it. I had thought my time in prison and the loss in ability to make music was enough to offset such deeds.

I guess not.

As bad as the days seemed, the nights were always worse.

While resting from the day’s travels, Rondel would look to the stars. The red jewels on the crown’s constellation continued to grow brighter, mocking him.

Still, he examined the night skies if for nothing else than to distract himself from the constant comings and goings of gray-skinned ghuls who spoke with Shadya in the strange language she used with Athar. They all paid her homage, bowing and prostrating themselves before her as they received what he assumed to be orders.

When the last creature left camp, sometimes changing into a hyena before loping over a sand dune, Shadya would come to him just as she did that first night after escaping the Host’s camp. She would say nothing, just stand or sit before him and wait.

Taunting.

Occasionally, she would whisper one simple phrase. “I’m not willing to give up on you yet, my love.”

Sometimes, she would move close enough so that her lips were within an inch of his face. He tried to pretend she meant nothing to him, but was never quite able to convince himself. Despite the obvious changes in her appearance due to the abomination growing inside of her, he could not deny her beauty. He even found pregnancy became her. But then he would recall that the unborn child had a non-human parent as well.

That thought always snapped him out of any lust-filled stupor. Though he had been unable to learn exactly what Shadya was, he knew she wasn’t human.

He wanted to vomit.

How did I ever fall for her? Easy. She became everything I thought I had wanted.
He thought of her soft, comforting laugh.
Why couldn’t you stay that way?

“Are you well, my love?”

Rondel opened his eyes and stared up at Shadya who waited before him. Moonlight glistened off the bronzed, smooth skin of her face. Her full lips parted and her eyes smiled. A shiver coursed down his back as he recalled staring into those eyes with what he thought was love.

Think of what she could be. Not what you want her to be.

He looked down at her feet. “I’m fine.”

She sighed and placed her hair inside her veil, something he hadn’t seen her do since leaving Hegra. “How do I look?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters because Nasnas will be here later tonight. You will meet him, a privilege that few humans have had since the fall of the great city.”

Rondel sat up, blinking in surprise. “Nasnas is coming to our camp?”

“Yes. He wishes to travel with us the rest of the way. This is the closest we’ve ever come to bringing about his rebirth. He doesn’t wish to wait another five hundred years to try again.”

“Tired of your previously
failed
attempts?” Rondel asked with a smirk.

She scowled. “Keep your pettiness to yourself, especially in front of him. Otherwise, he will make your life very difficult.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I care for you. I only wish I knew how to make you feel that way for me again. Regardless, you must not say anything cross about him. Despite your role in his rebirth, he will punish you if he thinks you aren’t showing him the respect he deserves.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious. His initial appearance is a shock to many. You may want to prepare yourself for it.”

“Trust me, I’ve kissed the buttocks of many ugly, fat, deformed, and grotesque kings when the situation called for it. I’ll be fine with someone as small as him.”

Shadya furrowed her brow. “Small?”

“Isn’t that what Nasnas is because of Hubul’s punishment? A small person.”

She looked confused. “No. Nasnas means half a man, not a short man.”

Rondel raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying he was cut in half at the waist and no longer has legs?” He chuckled. “Or did the other half perish and he does his talking out of his rear?”

An open hand slapped his cheek. Rondel saw stars. The left side of his face went numb from forehead to jaw. A dull ringing sounded in his ears.

That felt like it came from Andrasta. Who would have thought someone so small could hit so hard?

“I’m sorry, my love but that is the sort of comment I’m warning you not to make. He will not be so gentle. Nasnas is literally half a man. Hubul split him down the center of his body lengthwise. He has one arm and one leg. Half a torso, and half a head.”

Rondel blinked as the ringing in his ears lessened. “Did I hear that right? Split down the middle? Lengthwise?”

Shadya nodded.

“How does he travel? Does he have half a. . . .” Rondel clamped his jaw shut at the look in Shadya’s eyes. He’d have to save that joke for another time. He cleared his throat. “How does he travel?”

“Nasnas is very resourceful. He hops with much agility.”

Shadya delivered the line with such a deadpan voice that Rondel could only stare.

“Come again? I think the buzzing in my ears is making me hear things. Did you just say that Nasnas
hops with much agility
?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Well, you may want to get your hand ready for another slap because that has got to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” He began laughing uncontrollably.

Shadya grabbed his arm and shook him, yet still he snickered. “Stop it. I’m trying to help you.”

It wasn’t until she slapped him again that his amusement subsided. He decided the pain in his face wasn’t quite worth the silly image he had flashing through his mind of a one legged man running obstacle courses at incredible speeds.

“Thank you.” She smoothed out her abayah, then stiffened. “I feel his approach. He’s early.”

Rondel admittedly felt something different. Everything seemed heavier, the air he breathed, the clothes against his skin, even his own arms only wanted to lay limp at his sides. His head hung slightly, chin descending slowly to his chest. Eyelids followed.

“Imagine,” Shadya whispered. “This is just a fraction of the power he once claimed.” She paused. “Slow your breathing. It will help you grow accustomed to his presence.”

A heavy thud sounded faintly in the dark followed closely by another. The thudding grew louder and so did the heaviness in the air.

The thudding sounded thrice more until a small cloud of dust rose from the perimeter of the camp site. Rondel struggled to keep his head up due to the weight of Nasnas’s approaching presense. Despite her pregnancy, Shadya bowed low toward what could only be the direction of Nasnas.

On a massive foot, the eight-foot tall son of Hubul hopped from the darkness, giving Rondel a view of the creature’s fully formed right side. He stood like someone who still believed himself to be without equal. As usual, when Rondel found himself especially nervous, jokes still ran through his mind. Yet, the power emanating from Nasnas bore down on him too greatly for him to dwell on any of them.

Nasnas wore no clothes and the half-god’s bronze skin gave off a shining aura. The massive right arm, leg, and torso looked as though it had been chiseled from stone. The strong jaw and clean lines of the half face continued the theme of power. Rondel found himself jealous of what he saw, even knowing Nasnas’s curse.

I thought his presense was supposed to invoke terror? I feel his power, but I don’t know if I’d call myself scared.

The jealousy went away as Nasnas pivoted and exposed the full front of his body. Rondel’s eyes drifted down and up the creature, lingering in shock at the god’s crotch as he quickly verified that indeed
everything
had been sheered in half.

Missing a few fingertips isn’t so bad after all.

Nasnas pivoted once more, exposing the sheered side of his body as he took in the rest of his surroundings. The terror Rondel wondered about just moments before washed over him like the tide coming ashore.

Rondel had seen a dissected cadeaver before, but never had he witnessed bones moving, muscles flexing, and organs pumping air and fluids in such a manner. Fascination and fear prevented him from tearing his gaze away from the grotesque image. Knowing how Nasnas was forced to live, the half-god’s remaining power seemed even more special to him.

Gods, imagine if he was whole. Would I even be conscious right now?

Thankfully, Nasnas hid his sheered half once more as he gestured for Shadya to rise. He spoke in the guttural tongue filled with harsh consonants and only the occasional vowel. There were no pauses for Rondel to disseminate words. Everything came out in one long breath that reminded him of a shovel being scraped across stone.

Shadya replied back in the tongue Rondel heard her use with Athar and the other creatures that sought her guidance. He realized Nasnas probably spoke the same language, except Hubul’s son could not enunciate as easily with half a mouth and tongue.

Rondel tried to glean something from the conversation but it might as well have been dogs barking. The only thing he pieced together was that Nasnas seemed pleased with Shadya’s growing belly. She appeared five months along by human standards.

Rondel shuddered at his name being called. Shadya and Nasnas stared at him. He felt smaller, meaningless, under the deity’s eye.

“What?” he asked blankly.

“Come here,” said Shadya. “He wishes to speak with you.”

Rondel rose and shuffled over, consciously trying to remain upright under the heavy pressure of the fallen god’s presence. “I can’t speak the language you’ve been using.”

“It’s the first tongue. I’ll translate,” said Shadya.

Hubul’s son said something.

“He wishes to know if you’re ready for your role.”

Rondel stared at the ground. He found it less taxing than to meet Nasnas’s disfigured gaze when he spoke. “I still haven’t been told the specifics of my role, remember?”

Shadya translated. She and Nasnas exchanged words several times. He did not seem pleased.

She cleared her throat. “He wants me to tell you the details of the ritual.”

“I’m listening.”

“The mask you took from Hubul’s Host will be placed on an altar. Nasnas will lie on his belly, face in the mask. The baby will be placed next to him, also face down and head in the mask. Then we will provide some of your blood and mine to begin binding their flesh. Words will be spoken during this time. When all is finished, Nasnas will be whole once more. The flesh of the baby we created will meld with him and form his other half.”

Anger overcame the weight of being in Nasnas’s presence. “You can’t be serious.”

She nodded.

Rondel’s stomach rolled. Since discovering Shadya’s pregnancy and learning she was not a human, he hadn’t thought of his unborn child as anything other than an abomination. But now, he felt only rage that a helpless babe, regardless of what it was, would be used in such a way.

“I think I’m going to be sick again.” His eyes flicked to Nasnas. “I thought he came up with the ritual when creating the mask.”

“He did.”

His hands balled into fists. “And he couldn’t think of something less, I don’t know . . . complicated? Disgusting? Utterly and completely horrendous?”

Her face tensed. “The ritual was not originally so complicated. But when Hubul could not destroy the mask, he was able to make it so Nasnas could not regain his powers the way he had originally devised. This is the only choice because of Hubul.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Are you questioning a god? Your future master?”

He found himself thinking about how Andrasta would handle herself if she was in this situation.
She wouldn’t be cowering in fear, regardless of whose presence she was in and how much power she felt. Why should I?

“Why not? He can’t understand me. And technically he is a half-god, right? I mean that’s how this whole issue began. Him whining about being different.”

“You dare—”

“You got that right, I dare,” said Rondel, raising his voice. Thinking about Andrasta fueled his confidence.

Besides, when have I ever learned to keep my mouth shut?

He continued. “I can’t believe this is the only way to get his power back. I just think he’s not creative so he copied some bizarre ritual from another idiotic deity in another culture nearby. Everyone knows gods are big on the human sacrifice thing. Then he made sure to make the process really difficult by building it around an event that only occurs once every five hundred years.

“How inefficient is that? You know, I guess that if he was a full god like his old man, maybe he would have figured out a better way to bring about his return, but considering Hubul didn’t have the guts to kill his son, maybe the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

The more Rondel ranted, the more his anger swelled, forgetting completely about any terror he had when first entering Nasnas’s presence. Even the half-god’s power didn’t seem to weigh him down nearly as much as before. “And another thing. I know you might not be human, but you obviously aren’t a complete idiot. How can you or anyone else put your faith in someone that is no match for a strong gust of wind?”