Songbird
There are many varieties of drink in the Golden Empire. Most bars carry beer, wine, and the infamous aragh sagi.
Sadie wandered alone through the vast nighttime desert. Above her, countless stars twinkled, a fathomless blanket of infinite black decorated with tiny dots of light. She didn’t know how long she’d been wandering, nor how she’d even gotten there. She just knew that she had to keep walking. It seemed like some invisible force tugged her forward, some distant whisper spurring her to keep going.
“Ramin, where am I...?” Sadie murmured, though there was no one there to hear.
She trudged through the desert for what felt like hours, over hills of white sand and repetitive outcroppings of dry boulders and barren tree husks. After a while she noticed something strange about her journey. She had never walked this much in her entire life, yet somehow her feet never tired. The uneven desert surface should have worn on her knees and calves, but Sadie felt as if she could keep going forever. Even more oddly, she never felt hungry or thirsty throughout her journey. She began to wonder whether she was dead. Was it possible that this was the afterlife?
Sadie had long harbored an irrational fear of dying in her sleep, ever since the kindly old man who lived next door had passed away from heart failure in the night. She remembered how the old man had gone for a walk around their block every morning; his slow, deliberate steps up and down the stairs that led into his small, second-story abode.
She’d gotten used to seeing him every morning when her mother walked her to school. In the afternoons, when she’d returned home, it had been common to find him seated at the foot of the stairs, basking in the sun. Jaleh had often stopped to chat with the old man, who always seemed to have a smile and a kind word for Sadie and her mother. Then, one morning, he wasn’t there. Sadie had thought she’d simply missed him that morning, until she’d returned home later that afternoon and found the stairs of his house empty.
Her father had been away at war when it happened, forcing Sadie’s mother to be the one to explain where the old man had gone. Jaleh, never one to mince words, had been upfront with Sadie.
“Sadie, you’re getting old enough to understand the world a bit better,” her mother had said. “So I’m going to be honest with you. The reason the nice old man wasn’t around today is because he died last night.”
“What does died mean?” Sadie had asked.
Jaleh squeezed her hand tightly when answering. “Do you remember the little songbird that would visit our window?”
Sadie nodded, her brow creased as she struggled to connect her mother's words with the silence that hung over their home. "Yes, mommy. It would sing so pretty. But then one day, it didn't sing anymore. You said it had flown away."
Jaleh smiled, a bittersweet twist of lips. “Yes, my little star. Just like the bird, the old man has gone on a journey. His body became too tired to continue, and so he had to go away. For everyone, there comes a time when they go away forever. Sometimes our bodies become too old, or sometimes we get so hurt or so sick that we can never get better. This is called death. Everyone dies one day.”
Sadie drew in a breath. “Am I going to die?”
Jaleh pulled her close. “Not for a very, very, very long time, my darling.”
At that moment a horrible realization dawned on Sadie. “Can people die from fighting too much?”
Jaleh fell silent, weighing her words carefully. “Yes. That’s why your father and I always tell you not to fight with the other children.”
Sadie blinked. “So then... if daddy is away fighting... is he going to die?”
Her memories were interrupted as she caught sight of a small light, just ahead toward the desert horizon. A campfire! Sadie sprinted across the sand as fast as her legs could carry her, uncaring about who it might be or what consequences she might find there.
She was greeted by the comforting sound of the fire crackling. Her cheeks flushed as she felt the warmth of it on her face. A man sat by the fire on an old, dry log. He was dressed in a brown cloak with the hood drawn. There was something familiar about the man, as if Sadie had known him all her life. The man looked up as she approached. He smiled, then drew back his hood.
“Dad!” Sadie exclaimed.
“Hey, baby girl.”
Sadie’s breath caught in her throat as her father looked up at her with only one eye, the other firmly shut. A torrent of memories came flooding back to her. Suddenly she remembered everything: the sandstorm, the demons slain by her father’s holy arrows, Ali Reza. Most vividly, she remembered the bolt of lightning crashing down on her father like a divine judgment, wicked sapphire light swallowing all sense of hope and joy.
Suddenly her throat felt tight. “Dad...” Sadie repeated. “Dad, you...”
Hashem’s smile fell. “I’m sorry, baby girl.”
She began to blink rapidly. “Are you really...?”
“I’m afraid so, Sadie.”
“No...” She crumpled to her knees, unable to bear the weight of the despair that crashed down on her.
Hashem stood. He walked over to Sadie and draped his cloak around her shoulders. “Come, sit with me by the fire.”
Sadie nodded absentmindedly, and together they returned to the log. They sat there in silence, for how long, Sadie couldn’t say. She didn’t dare try to speak, for fear that if she opened her mouth she’d break down then and there.
“I have to tell you something, Sadie,” Hashem said. “We don’t have long, so I’m going to need you to listen.”
“Why did you have to go with Executioner?!” she blurted out. “Why couldn’t you stay with mom?! With us?!” She pressed her face to his shoulder. “With me...”
Hashem hugged her close. She curled deeper into him, basking in his scent and in the warmth of his arms. “I was foolish,” her father told her. “I wanted to help a friend. I should have realized it was all connected... ”
“What are you talking about...?” Sadie asked. “Connected? What’s connected?”
“Everything that’s happening. The gods have willed all of it. The burden I was asked to carry... the burden that will now be passed to you. Ahura Mazda has given you a great destiny, Sadie.”
“What the heck are you saying?!”
“This business with Princess Ariana is more complicated than it seems,” Hashem said. “The gods have shown me what is to come. I’ve seen what awaits her, and I’ve seen what awaits you.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You will. I can’t tell you everything yet, but you will,” Hashem replied, his voice filled with regret. “I know none of this is fair to you, but I need you to do something for me.”
“I...” Sadie bit her lip. “I’ll go back home. I’ll take care of mom, and Abed, and Beg, and Aria, too.”
Hashem shook his head. “No, Sadie. Ahura Mazda has something else planned for you.”
“Ahura Mazda...?” What could the king of the gods have in store for someone like her? She’d been useless up until now, nothing but a burden - in the sandstorm, and with the bandits, too. What could she possibly do for the greatest of all the deities?
“I need you to watch out for Executioner,” Hashem said. “No matter what she tells you, you need to stay with her. You must help her find Princess Ariana.”
“But why?! What am I supposed to do?”
Her father looked at her sympathetically. “You have a great destiny ahead of you, Sadie. Your path will be treacherous, more difficult than I ever wanted for you.” He sighed. “It isn’t fair to you. I wish it could be, but...” He trailed off. “Our time is up.”
Sadie’s eyes widened. “What?! No! You can’t go! I don't even know what you’re talking about!”
“I have to,” Hashem said. “Stay with Executioner. She’ll protect you for a time, but there will come a day when you must be the one to protect her.”
The fire suddenly began to dim. Sadie could feel its warmth receding. “No! I won’t let you go! Please, dad! I love you! Please don’t die.”
“Everyone dies, Sadie,” Hashem said. “Even so, you must be brave. Remember that you’re stronger than you think.”
The fire died out, and suddenly Sadie found herself in darkness - alone. “NO! DAD!”
“DAD!” Sadie cried, her eyes flying open.
She gasped as she again found herself in the desert, not in the night, but the day. The sun hung high overhead, its blazing rays bearing down on her. Sadie looked around, taking in her surroundings. She was seated on the back of a karkadann, protected from the sun by an oversized robe over her clothes, far larger than the one her father had draped over her. The karkadann galloped at top speed, racing through the golden, sandy expanse. There was a rope around her waist, tying her to Executioner. The Arash Shara’s armor sparkled in the sunlight.
“You’re awake,” Executioner said without turning around.
Had it all been a dream? Wandering through the desert and speaking to her father had seemed so real. She had felt him. She had smelled him. Was it really possible for all of that to have only existed in her mind?
“What happened?” Sadie asked.
“You fell asleep.”
Sadie’s heart sank. “Is my dad really...?” Executioner didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. Sadie knew the answer. “How long was I asleep?” Sadie asked instead. Again, Executioner didn’t reply. Sadie decided to try a different question. “Where are we going?”
“Makhun.”
When the Arash Shara declined to volunteer any further information, Sadie gave up and decided to just wait and see. She didn’t have it in her to get worked up about the silence. Her heart was too heavy. There was a pain inside her, like someone had opened a gaping hole in her chest. She could feel it stinging, pulsing more loudly than her own heart did. It both weighed her down and burned her, made everything in the world feel meaningless and empty.
The desert journey felt frustratingly monotonous. The only thing in their surroundings that seemed to change was the position of the sun in the sky. The desert otherwise seemed to remain the same but for a sandy hill or dead tree every now and again. Sadie stared ahead blankly as she rode on the back of the karkadann, arms wound tightly around Executioner’s waist.
The two women sat in silence, bobbing up and down with the karkadann’s rapid, clip clopping steps. She hardly noticed the bouncing. Under normal circumstances she might have found it terribly uncomfortable and found reason to complain. For the moment, all she could think about was what had happened in that desert clearing.
She blinked, but no tears fell. Maybe it was because her eyes had gone dry, or maybe it was because she’d already shed every tear she had. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that her father was gone. Like the song bird that used to sing outside her window and the old man that used to smile at her every morning, Hashem had gone on the eternal journey. Her greatest fears had come to pass.
“We’re here,” Executioner said suddenly, the sound so unexpected that Sadie flinched.
As they crested to the top of a sandy hill they came across an enormous boulder upon which cracking paint read: “Welcome to Makhun!”
Makhun... Sadie thought. She vaguely recalled hearing about this place before. Wasn’t it also called the city of thieves? Looking upon Makhun from atop the hill, Sadie wasn’t exactly sure she’d have called it a city. Makhun was an unassuming place, more a large road flanked by some dilapidated buildings than a proper village. There were some street merchants and taverns, essential stores, but not much else.
Like in Tel Kellah’s alleys, there were urchins and beggars strewn about the town. Sadie noticed one particular beggar, a man holding a wooden sign that read: “He is coming. Repent now.” Below the words was a drawing of a three-headed serpent. Her stomach churched as she was reminded of the bandit leader and the strange tattoo on his chest.
In truth, Sadie had never believed the myth of the laughing snake. She had always assumed it was just some stupid superstition. Seeing the symbol now, however, sent a chill down her spine.
They approached one of the stores, a modestly sized stable that consisted of a shed made primarily from adobe and brick, ideal for weathering dust storms. Next to the shed was a fenced off square within which a handful of lump-backed camels grazed on modest foliage left out for them in planters.
An old man was sitting in front of the shed. He had a thick, white beard, bulbous cheeks, and sunken wrinkles from too much time spent in the sun. His skin was dark, even moreso than Sadie’s or Executioner’s, nearly obsidian black. The old man was asleep on a stool with his back to the shed, snoring loudly with a single blade of straw hanging from his mouth.
Executioner tapped the man’s shoulder upon approaching him. He stirred, then started with an audible gasp upon seeing the tall woman looming over him. “C-Can I help you?” the camel breeder asked, jittery in his seat.
“We need a camel,” Executioner said.
The breeder’s eyes fell upon Executioner’s armor, the insignias she wore. He looked her up and down again, as if doubtful of what he was seeing. Then, seeming to steel himself, he relaxed his back and shoulders and sat straight up. A feline grin crawled across his face, revealing perfectly white teeth.
“Of course, I have just what you need,” he purred confidently. “And I offer it at the best price within a hundred kilometers! Just twenty gold honorables! And, for a woman of your... distinction, Arash Shara, I’ve something even better. A karkadann, freshly purchased, just three hundred gold honorables!” He looked at their mount appraisingly. “Why settle for just one, when you could have one for both yourself and your daughter?”
Sadie flushed upon being called Executioner’s daughter.
The Arash Shara perked up. “A karkadann? Quite a rare thing to find in a town like this.”
“Yes, quite the rare find!” the breeder agreed. “Born and raised in Tel Kellah! You won’t find a better deal on such a mount, methinks.”
“Show me.”
They dismounted and tied their karkadann to a post. The breeder led them into the shed, where a stable contained yet more mounts, mostly camels. In one enclosure, however, a massive, obsidian beast loomed over the others. It had a long, curved horn atop its snout, glistening and sharp like a scimitar.
“A truly fine specimen!” the breeder exclaimed. “And in incredible health. Normally I’d sell this one for three times what I’ve offered you, but... most people in Makhun don’t have that kind of money.” The breeder barked a laugh.
“It must be difficult to sell something so expensive here,” Executioner agreed. “How long have you had the karkadann for?”
The breeder stroked his beard thoughtfully. “In truth, my liege, only a few days. I do not normally sell this type of beast. Too expensive to raise and not worth it without traveling to Tel Kellah, where I would be outcompeted by noble breeders who specialize. I was fortunate to acquire this for very cheap.”
Executioner raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You’re sure whoever sold this to you didn’t sell you a diseased animal?”
“No no!” the breeder quickly insisted, holding up his open palms. “I had it checked first thing, of course. It is a perfectly healthy creature.”
“Of course,” Executioner said. “Regardless, would you be comfortable sharing how much you paid for it?”
The breeder began to sweat nervously beneath Executioner’s unflinching stare. “Am I in trouble, Arash Shara?”
“No. I’m just curious.”
The breeder nodded, relaxing his shoulders a bit. “That’s good to hear, my liege. You can never be too sure. It is rare for one as important as yourself to venture into Makhun.”
“So?” Executioner prodded him. “How much did you pay for the karkadann?”
“In truth? Two regular sized camels. It was a trade.”
Executioner nodded. “How long ago was this?”
“Just the other day, my liege. It was the strangest thing. A girl, perhaps the same age as your daughter here, and a man a little older than she. They were desperate to part with the beast, they said. So of course, I took it off of their hands! I couldn’t believe my good fortune!”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry, Miss, but am I missing something here? Have I offended you somehow?”
Executioner shook her head. “No,”the tall woman said. “But we’ll still just take the camel, please.”
“What was that all about?” Sadie asked after they left.
As usual Executioner didn’t reply. The two women rode their karkadann through the small town, Executioner in front and Sadie in back. Their new camel was tied to the karkadann, and trotted along behind it. Both creatures had large, cloth packs draped over their sides, filled with supplies.
They’d stopped at a modest clothing shop to get Sadie a better fitting cloak, allowing both women to travel with their hoods up. Nevertheless, people stared at them as they passed, eyes drawn to Executioner’s massive frame and the colossal sword she kept sheathed on her back. Sadie began to sweat as the camel breeder had, made anxious by the gazes she felt on her back at all times. Her thighs ached from hugging the karkadann’s sides, but she held on. She wished they were on a camel instead.
“Couldn’t we have at least gotten a saddle?” Sadie demanded. “My butt is killing me.”
Executioner didn’t reply. The karkadann did, huffing indignantly.
“Wait, does it understand me?” Sadie asked.
The karkadann huffed again, as if confirming that it did. Sadie patted the creature’s butt softly. “Sorry,” she murmured. “If you don’t like saddles then we don’t need one.”
She thought it strange how normal she felt. The overwhelming sadness was there, but it didn’t stop her from reacting to things the same way she normally would. When she’d realized her father was dead she’d expected to be inconsolable and mute for the rest of the journey. Maybe she’d just been sad for too long, and now she was numb to it.
They turned toward a building located at the corner of town. It had only taken a few minutes to travel from the stables to the edge of Makhun. The short journey was a shock for Sadie. Did people actually live in such small places? She’d spent her whole life of nearly two decades in Tel Kellah, and even now she hadn’t explored the whole city. It was too vast, not to mention always changing and expanding in some way. What would it be like to grow up in a place you could see the entirety of in a single day?
The women dismounted. Executioner produced a rope from her pack and used it to tie both their karkadann and camel to a post outside.
“Does he have a name?” Sadie asked, nodding toward the karkadann.
“She,” Executioner corrected. “Her name is Gala.”
Sadie stroked the massive beast’s head. “Hey, Gala,” she murmured in its ear. “Thanks for taking us all this way.” Gala snorted in response, though to Sadie it seemed like a good kind of snort. She wasn’t sure how she could tell. She stroked the camel’s snout. “We’ll think of a name for you later, too,” Sadie promised. The camel didn’t respond quite as distinctly as the karkadann.
Sadie turned to Executioner. “You think the karkadann at the stable was Ariana’s, don’t you?” she guessed. “You think they were here.”
“Speak more softly,” Executioner said. “I’ll answer your questions soon.”
They entered a small tavern, walking up to the bartender. He turned to them with a crooked smile.
“What can I do for you ladies? Something to drink?” His voice was gruff, and he spoke with an accent that Sadie thought sounded like people in the commoner cast in Tel Kellah. The bartender’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Executioner, though he soon recovered. “Ah! Welcome! How can I be of service, m’lady?”
“Beer,” Executioner said. “Two.”
“Right away, m’lady.”
The bartender poured two mugs of a golden liquid, the likes of which Sadie had never seen before. He slid them over to Executioner. She nodded graciously and dropped a gold coin onto the bar. They sat down in a small, wooden booth in the corner of the room, facing the door. Executioner slammed one of the mugs down in front of Sadie.
“Drink,” she ordered.
Sadie hesitated, then grabbed the mug and started to sip. She was startled when the cold liquid burned her tongue and throat on the way down. She gasped, barely managing to swallow, then coughed loudly.
“What the heck is this?!” Sadie demanded.
“A drink of the commoner cast,” Executioner replied. “Keep drinking.”
Sadie complied, though it was difficult. Unlike wine, this drink was bitter, and somehow reminiscent of wheat, or maybe barley. The Arash Shara woman, for her part, downed her drink in a single swig. It took Sadie several tries to finish hers. When she did, she pushed the copper mug away, gagging. Her head was already beginning to feel light. The room began to spin a little.
“That was gross...” Sadie murmured. “Why did we have to drink that?”
“In the warrior caste it is tradition to honor one’s fallen comrades with a drink.”
“Oh.”
Sadie’s eyes fell to her feet as she was again reminded of her father.
“I’ll answer your questions now,” Executioner said.
Sadie nodded. “The karkadann?”
“Yes, it was probably the one Ariana and Vahid rode out on,” Executioner confirmed. “If they traded it for camels, it means they’re traveling discreetly now. This is both advantageous and disadvantageous. They will be slower, easier to catch up to, but they will also be more difficult to find.”
Sadie nodded again, taking in the information. “I... Who was that in the desert? Why did he want my dad’s eye? Why did we have to fight at all?!” The questions came spilling out of her all at once, as if she were regurgitating her beer.
“Ali Reza was a warrior in Gen during their rebellion against the Golden Empire,” Executioner replied. “Your father and I fought him many times during the Long War. I don’t know why he was there, or why he wanted your father’s eye.”
Sadie stared at her empty mug. “My dad said that tattoo on his chest meant he serves the laughing snake.”
“Yes.”
“But... the laughing snake is a myth, isn’t he?” Sadie asked. “My dad never liked me to swear with his name, but I mean... there can’t actually be a five hundred year old sorcerer, can there?”
Executioner pursed her lips. “The laughing snake is real.”
Sadie waited expectantly, but the Arash Shara didn’t offer anything more. Sadie decided to drop it. “The bandit said my dad was hiding something in the eye. What was he talking about?”
Executioner hesitated. She reached into one of the small packs on her belt and produced the glass sphere Sadie’s father had used as an eye for the past decade. The Arash Shara had apparently cleaned it at some point, for the eye was no longer covered in Hashem’s blood. Its smooth surface glinted even in the dull torchlight of the tavern. Executioner placed the eye in front of Sadie. Sadie picked it up and examined it.
It was colder to the touch than she had expected, like picking up a sphere made of ice rather than glass. It was an intricate piece, the details of the eye not painted on, but built into it with glass of different colors. Sadie turned it over in her fingers, gazing for a moment into the iris and pupil. She couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship. Somehow, the iris was identical to that of her father’s organic eye. Looking at it felt like meeting his gaze. Sadie’s lower lip began to tremble a renewed wave of sadness washed over her. Despite the sadness, no tears came.
“Many years ago, your father and I made a promise to a friend,” Executioner said. “That eye contains something very valuable - something that cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Your father hid and guarded it for many years.”
“What’s inside?”
“We mustn’t speak of it here. This is too public a place.” Executioner stood. “Keep that out of sight. I will tell you more soon, when we’ve more time on our side.”
“Where are we going?”
Executioner motioned her to follow, leaving the question unanswered. Sadie slid out of her seat and scampered after the Arash Shara. The two women approached the bartender again.
“Can I get you another beer, m’lady?” the bartender asked.
Executioner shook her head. She reached into her pack and produced a circular, palm-sized medallion. The sides were silver, a bearded face carved into them that Sadie didn’t recognize. She knew what was inside, though. She could see it through the transparent edges of the medallion: water.
The bartender’s eyes bulged.
The silver dram was currency from the old world, from before the Jurjun Strait had begun to flow and the great lakes had formed in the north - before the Golden Empire, a time when the continent had been nothing but desert. But what was Executioner doing with such a piece of history, and what purpose did it serve here? In school, history class had taught Sadie that such pieces had fallen out of use, and that none existed anymore outside of museums. Apparently that wasn’t quite true.
“We need passage, and insurance that our karkadann outside will not be stolen,” Executioner said.
“Of course, m’lady,” the bartender replied, suddenly stoic. “Do you want to enter now?” He bowed his head low.
Executioner nodded. The bartender ushered them into the back of his tavern, where he led them into a dank basement with hardly enough room for the three of them. He crouched and ran his hand along the floor, then pushed. A segmented tile became visible, depressing as he pushed down on it. The floor seemed to come apart like a disassembling puzzle, revealing a set of stairs that led into a dark tunnel. Sadie’s jaw dropped.
“Best of luck in your business,” the bartender said.
Executioner tugged Sadie along, and the two women entered into the dark tunnel. Executioner took an unlit candle from the wall and sparked it against her skin, drawing flame to light their way. They walked for a while, getting deeper and deeper underground.
Sadie’s curiosity began to get the better of her. “Where does this tunnel lead?” she asked. “What was that with the silver dram up there?”
A light came into view, along with the end of the tunnel.
“The town above is a front for outsiders,” Executioner explained. “We are about to enter the real Makhun.”
“The real Makhun?”
They exited the tunnel, and Sadie stopped dead in her tracks.
Comments