“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.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jebel wept over the dead Tel Hesani, silently observed by the floating snake god, Sabbah Eid. As he cried, the serpent shimmered and changed. The flames died away, its coils turned to flesh, and the god transformed into an ancient woman in a blue robe, with long grey hair and warm eyes. The woman said softly, “Jebel?”
Jebel looked up and frowned through his tears. “Who are you?” he gasped.
The woman shrugged. “I have many names. You can call me Sabbah Eid if that is what you are most comfortable with.”
“I don’t understand. Are you Sabbah Eid, or aren’t you?”
“I am,” the woman said. “But I’m many other gods too. Or demons. Or ghosts. It all depends on what a quester expects to find. I alter my shape to suit the demands of those who come in search of me.”
“But you’re a god, aren’t you?” Jebel asked, wiping tears from his eyes.
“No. I have some of the powers of a god, but I was born as you were and will die as you will, although I hope to be around for a few more thousand years before death crooks its finger at me.”
“Then Sabbah Eid isn’t real? The legends are lies?”
The woman made a face. “The legends are true to an extent. My powers are real, and although I’m not an actual god, I can take the form and function of one when I have to.”
Jebel stood shakily. “Can you bring Tel Hesani back to life?” he croaked.
The woman shook her head. “Nobody can reclaim a spirit from the lands of the dead. Even the real gods aren’t that powerful.”
Jebel sighed, bid Tel Hesani farewell, then squared his shoulders and glared at the woman. “Go ahead,” he said stiffly. “I’m ready.”
“For what?” the woman asked.
“Death,” Jebel said. “I didn’t make the sacrifice, so you can kill me now. I won’t protest or beg to be spared.”
The woman smiled, and although she was the oldest crone Jebel had ever seen, wrinkled and bent, she was beautiful when she smiled.
“The world is full of vicious people,” she said softly. “It is a violent, dangerous place. That has always been the case, as it will be for a long time to come. But Makhras is not as bad as it was, and hopefully things will continue to improve.
“I am of a race long since gone,” she went on. “For much of our time we lived apart from humans. We thought they were base creatures who could not learn or grow. Towards the end of our age, we realized that we were wrong, and we decided to help them.
“Unfortunately our influence by that time was weak. As death claimed us, we poured the last of our power into a cave and left a sentinel behind to help rid the world of some of its worst tyrants. We spent our final few decades spreading rumors and legends, then all passed on except me. I have remained, alone, sealed in this cave, the last of my kind.”
“How can you get rid of evil people if you’re trapped in a cave?” Jebel asked.
“They come to me,” the woman said. “We sowed the seeds of an enticing legend among races the world over. We told them that a god—spirit, or whatever—lived in this mountain and would grant invincibility and great strength to anyone who made their way here and offered up another person as a sacrifice. We guessed such a promise would draw the more unscrupulous men and women of the world.
“And it has. They’ve come in their droves, the ruthless, the determined, the coldhearted, in search of the power to control others.” She smiled grimly. “They have all perished here, burned to ash like the Um Biyara I just disposed of.”
Jebel gaped at the woman. “You mean you killed all of the questers?”
“I had to,” she sighed. “Most people can be educated and reasoned with, but I don’t have the time or ability to do that. I’m not a teacher, just an executioner.”
Jebel frowned. “But questers have come back. It’s been a long time, but some returned, powerful, invincible, dying only of old age.”
“Yes.” The woman moved forward to cup Jebel’s chin with a hand. Her fingers were warm and softer than Jebel had expected. “Every so often a quester sees the error of his ways as he travels here. He learns compassion and mercy. In most cases such people do not complete their quest but return home or go in search of peace in some faraway corner of the world. But a few carry on, stopping only at the last instant, like you.
“Those are the few I spare,” the woman said, her fingers tightening. “They are the ones I
bless.” Heat spread from her fingers to Jebel’s chin, then through the rest of his body, a sudden burst, gone almost as soon as it formed. The woman released him and stepped back. “You may go now.”
“Go?” Jebel echoed, feeling light-headed.
“The power is yours. Use it well, as others before you have, to change the world for the better. I won’t tell you how to live your life—you will find your own way. All I ask is that you maintain the myth and claim that you completed the quest by killing your slave. You can tell your loved ones the truth if you wish, but when speaking to others please keep the lie alive. If the wicked and unjust learned of the truth, they would stop coming, and the world would suffer that bit more.”
Things were happening in a whirl. Moments before, Jebel had been anticipating a fiery death. Now, if the woman was to be believed, the legends were a trap, the strong and ruthless were executed instead of rewarded, and his punishment for weakness was in fact the very prize he had set out in search of.
“It will make sense later,” the woman said, having seen this reaction in others before him. “You will have plenty of time to reflect upon this day. I predict a long, glorious life for you, Jebel Rum.”
“But the quest is over? It ends like this? Suddenly, without any… any…”
The woman chuckled. “I could have lights explode overhead and the cave fill with music and cheering, but wouldn’t that be rather pointless?”
“I suppose,” Jebel muttered. His gaze came to rest on Tel Hesani again. “What about my friend?”
“I will bury him. I know the customs of the Um Kheshabah. I will see that he is given the ceremony he would have wanted.”
“Can I stay to help?” Jebel asked.
“I would not recommend it. I took the liberty of glancing inside your mind when I touched you. I know of the mukhayret and Tel Hesani’s wife and children. Time is against you. If you set off now, you will probably make it, but if you hesitate…” She shook her head.
“All right,” Jebel said, too tired and dazed to argue. He turned to go back the way he had come.
“Not that way,” the woman stopped him. “It would take too long.”
“What other way is there?” Jebel asked with a frown.
“There is a path deep underground. The crust of Makhras covers a series of mazes and tunnels. You can get to most places down there. Follow me.”
The woman set off. Jebel bent, touched the forehead of Tel Hesani, tearfully wished him luck in the afterlife, then hurried after his strange host.
The woman led Jebel to the rear of the cave and down through a hole in the floor. It was a difficult climb, but the rocks were so tight around him that Jebel could stop as often as he liked, jam himself between the walls, and rest.
They descended for an hour, maybe more, coming to an eventual halt on a hard, warm floor. It was completely black down there, but a faint glow came from the woman—her body was flickering with flames. As Jebel stared around, one of the flames broke away from the woman and brightened until it was the size of a torch.
“Follow this,” the woman said. “It will guide you to a spot close to your city. From there you can climb to the surface and be home within three or four days. If you march swiftly through the tunnels, stopping only to sleep, you should make it back in time for the mukhayret.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Jebel said. He felt totally drained.
“Of course you can,” the woman assured him. “You’re invincible now, stronger than any normal man. You can push your body to extremes you would never before have dreamt possible.”
“What about food and water?” Jebel asked.
“Water is readily available,” the woman said. “Food is scarcer, but there are plants and fruits that grow in the darkness. Most are inedible, but you can eat anything—poison won’t upset your stomach! Eat whenever you see anything that looks like it can be eaten, keep marching, and you’ll be fine.”
The woman kissed Jebel’s cheeks. “We won’t see each other again,” she said, “but I will think of you every day. I hope you have a good, long life. I’m certain you will.” Before Jebel could think of a reply, her form faded, and he was alone in the tunnel with the floating ball of light.
Jebel waited for his senses to stop spinning. When they didn’t, he put his doubts on hold, faced the light, and started walking. The light moved ahead of Jebel, guiding him away from the sacred mountain of Tubaygat and the mysterious, powerful, incredibly lonely woman who dwelt within.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The walking was endless but untaxing. As the woman had predicted, Jebel was able to march for many miles before having to stop. He had no sense of time down there, but by his rough reckoning he could go three or four days and nights without rest. And though he ate every so often, he was never really hungry.
The underworld was more beautiful than he had imagined. Fields of stalactites and stalagmites, waterfalls, unmined seams of sparkling crystals and gold, rock formations to rival even those of Abu Siq. But he seldom paused to appreciate the sights. He was mindful of the woman’s warning that he had to hurry, and while he didn’t care much about the mukhayret anymore, he was determined to save Tel Hesani’s family.
The light burned constantly as it glided ahead of him. Sometimes he talked to it, pretending it was Tel Hesani or one of his friends from Wadi. And even though the fire never responded, it provided him with company, and in the loneliness of the subterranean tunnels and caves he was grateful for that.
The tunnels twisted, dipped, and rose sharply. He often had to climb or pick his way around the rim of a crevice that seemed to drop away into the very heart of the planet. A normal human couldn’t have completed this trek. But Jebel pushed on without slowing, clearing even the harshest of obstacles with ease.
He thought a lot about his quest and Tel Hesani. He also returned to his meeting with Sabbah Eid time after time, replaying their conversation. She had said he should use his power to make the world a better place. But how? Become a soldier and kill all who were vile? Install himself as high lord and free every slave? Use his power to bend others to his will? Wouldn’t he become a tyrant himself if he did that?
Jebel wanted to make the most of his newfound powers, but how could he, when he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them?
After weeks of marching Jebel through the underworld, the light stopped moving at the foot of a wall. Jebel wearily reached up in search of a handhold. As he started to climb, the light didn’t rise with him but stayed on the ground.
Jebel glanced down, surprised. The light had flickered ahead of him all the way until this point, soaring when he climbed, sliding down gracefully into the dark when the path cut away steeply underfoot. Why had it paused now?
Then it struck him—the light had stopped because their journey had come to its end. Jebel looked up, and although he couldn’t see anything, he was sure this wall would lead him to the surface.
“Thank you,” Jebel said to the light. In response it began to dim, and he knew that by the time he reached the top, it would have quenched itself forever.
He climbed eagerly now, digging his fingers in where there weren’t any holes, gouging chunks out of the rock as if it was made of mud. He soon caught a glimpse of daylight, a pinprick in the ceiling of black. Aiming for it, he quickened his pace, his heart expanding as the sliver of light bloomed.
Eventually he crawled out into a small cave. Shaking, holding a hand over his eyes to protect them from the sunshine, he stumbled to the exit and sank to his haunches, breathing in the fresh air as if it was a fragrant perfume.
When his eyes had adjusted, he focused on the sun. It was almost sunset, and the fiery globe was sinking fast. He watched it go down, awestruck, shivering as the earth seemed to eat the sun until there was only a tiny arc left, then nothing.
His face was wet. It felt like rain, but it couldn’t be—the sky was clear. Exploring with his fingers, he was astonished to find that he’d been crying. The si
mple beauty of the setting sun had reduced him to tears. For most of his life he hadn’t cried, even when truly miserable or in pain. Now here he was, weeping at a sunset!
Jebel should have felt foolish, but he didn’t. Wiping his cheeks clean, chuckling wryly, he stood and surveyed the land. By the fields of lush grass stretching away in all directions, he knew that he had come up somewhere between the as-Sudat and as-Surout, the fertile green belt of Abu Aineh. If he cut southeast, he couldn’t miss Wadi.
Judging his direction by where the sun had set, Jebel ambled from the cave, rested a moment at the bottom of the small hill to enjoy the scent of grass, then set off on the final leg home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Jebel returned to Wadi one hot summer evening, much like the day when he had left. If he closed his eyes, he could have pretended the year was a dream. But Jebel didn’t want to pretend. He was fully focused on the reality of the moment and all that was to come.
Making a slight detour, he passed through the place where the mukhayret was traditionally held. Many tents and stalls were being set up. That meant the festival hadn’t taken place yet. Jebel was in time. He said a quick thank-you to the gods, then turned for home, not sure what sort of a reception to expect.
The house hadn’t changed, except it was dustier than Jebel remembered. He could have walked straight in—it was his home—but he felt awkward. After pausing nervously on the front step, he gulped and rapped on the door.
“Enter,” came his father’s voice. Jebel took a deep breath and went in.
Rashed Rum was sitting at the table, washing his dinner down with a mug of water. J’Al was with him but had finished eating and was rubbing the back of his neck, twisting his head from left to right. J’An was in a corner, exercising.
Rashed Rum looked up with a smile, not recognizing the thin, scruffy boy. “Yes?” he said amiably.
“I’m back, Father,” Jebel said, and all movement in the room ceased.