Chapter-1-3

⁠—⁠—⁠— III ⁠—⁠—⁠—

“You.”

When Kah the Wise spoke, it was slowly, as if in a dream.

“Who are you?”

His voice was thick and rasping, but the eyes that peered out from beneath his bushy white brows gleamed with intelligence.

Guin, who had been sizing up Dodok the Brave’s considerable strength and girth, turned his gaze to the other leader of the Lagon. Kah’s eyes met his, probing him with a deep curiosity.

“I am…”

The moment Guin opened his mouth to reply, a stir went through the Lagon. Though a few among them had already heard him speak, most were now seeing him for the first time and were astonished to find that this leopard-headed man—like a creature out of some myth—could speak their own tongue.

Dodok’s gaze filled with surprise beneath his jutting brow.

Only Kah the Wise showed no sign of untoward alarm. Slowly, he tilted his head, lending an ear to Guin’s words.

“My name is Guin. I am… a warrior, though I know not whence I came, nor the name of my land of birth.”

“Guin? Why do you not know where you hail from? Who are you?” Kah repeated quietly. Guin frowned, uncertain where to begin.

“He knows not whence he comes!” a deep, dangerous voice thundered. It was Dodok the Brave. “It is because he is an evil spirit—a demon! Kah the Wise, he has come from the Land of the Dead to wreak vengeance upon lagon. It is certain.”

Here and there, the Lagon muttered in agreement. Some merely nodded, while others shouted that such a creature did not deserve a trial, and should be killed on the spot.

Kah the Wise slowly lifted his right hand. Again, the Lagon fell silent. “You will tell us. Who are you?”

This time, Guin had an answer for him. “I am Guin. I came here under orders to lead the Lagon down the true path.”

“Whose orders?” Kah asked swiftly.

“Heaven’s.”

“What is ‘heaven’?”

“It is the two-faced god Janos, who rules this world.”

This… Janos, we do not know this god,” said the Lagon chieftain.

“And who determines how the Lagon should be? Who determines their fate, or the way they must live? Who makes all things in the world move, protecting the Lagon, and giving righteous judgment to you, Kah? Alphetto?”

“Alphetto?” Kah replied incredulously, disdain clear in his voice. “Alphetto! That is the mud-god of the Sem. He is the god of foul insects that walk the Land of the Dead—the maggots that infest the corpse of our world, the Sem. Lagon care nothing for Alphetto.”

“Then what? Whom do the Lagon worship?”

“You speak of Aqrra,” Kah replied solemnly. To Guin’s astonishment, the moment he said that word, all the Lagon seated around the clearing lowered their heads as one. “Aqrra made lagon, Aqrra protects lagon, Aqrra is the beginning of all things. There are many gods upon the land. Yet only Aqrra made us. Aqrra belongs only to us.” Then he began to chant in a monotone: Aqrra is only of lagon, and lagon were made by Aqrra.”

All the Lagon echoed the chant in a low voice.

“Then that’s who sent me,” said Guin. “This Aqrra, in my language he is known as Janos. I came here under orders from Aqrra.”

“Aqrra is only Aqrra. Aqrra has no other name. Aqrra is known only to lagon, whom Aqrra has made, and no other,” Kah said forcefully. Guin began to grow irritated. Above him, Aeris was already high in the sky. He had no time to waste debating theology.

“Nonetheless, I came here from Aqrra!” the leopard-man exclaimed, thrusting out his chest. “I’m a messenger from Aqrra!”

“Aqrra!” the Lagon shouted, another ripple passing through the crowd. Now Dodok the Brave stood, towering so high he seemed almost to touch the low-hanging clouds.

“Silence him! Cut out his tongue, and cure it with salt! He has profaned the sacred Aqrra. He came to steal precious white salt from lagon. He claims to be a messenger from Aqrra, yet he is a thieving demon. Kill him.”

Cries of “Kill him, kill him!” erupted from the crowd. The Lagon thrust their fists into the air, shouting for blood.

“Silence!”

The voice of Kah the Wise rang across the clearing. His right hand slowly rose, and at once, the commotion settled. Guin looked at that raised hand, then blinked and counted: Kah the Wise had six fingers.

Perhaps this was a requirement for becoming a sage among these people, Guin surmised, momentarily forgetting the urgency of his predicament, until his thoughts were interrupted by Kah’s ever-calm voice.

“Guin, Warrior with the Head of a Beast, Dodok the Brave has made mighty accusations against you. One, that you are a demon from the Land of the Dead come to wreak vengeance upon lagon. Two, that you steal salt from the sacred valley. Should these claims prove true, they are grave matters indeed. But if these claims are not true, then still you have committed a sin far graver than that of being a demon: to blaspheme the name of Aqrra is to lagon worse than stealing salt, or killing a man in his sleep. Can you explain your two trespasses here, before myself, Kah the Wise, and Dodok the Brave? Can you prove these words that have come from your mouth?”

“I can,” Guin said, staring directly back at him, “…I think.”

“Then do so. Lagon are fair, lagon are just. If you are true, then you have nothing to fear.”

“Then I shall explain myself,” Guin said, taking a half-step forward. For a moment, his three guards tensed to strike, yet when they saw that he intended no action, they resumed their statue-like vigil.

The moon slipped out from behind a cloud, lighting the village of stone. Guin had placed himself in the exact center of the open ground. Legs wide set, hands bound behind his back at the wrists, the warrior thrust out his chest, and the pale blue-white gaze of Aeris made his feline head and muscular body swim with wavering light, like a statue at the bottom of the sea.

“I can prove myself,” Guin repeated, somewhat louder. Kah leaned forward in his chair, tilting an ear toward the captive. The warriors, women, and children of the Lagon had fallen quiet. No demon had ever been tried in the village clearing before, and they didn’t want to miss a moment.

“Listen to my words,” Guin began, “then decide whether to punish me or not. I know the Lagon to be fair. See me here now. I speak your words, and except for my beast-head, I share your form. Is my appearance cause enough to treat me as a demon? I do not think you are so barbarous as that. I believe in the Lagon.”

“Yes, we are fair,” came an undercurrent of voices in the crowd, but faded swiftly into silence, like water seeping into the sand.

“To the first accusation—namely, that I, Guin, am a demon come from the Land of the Dead to wreak vengeance upon the Lagon—this could not be more untrue. I cannot understand why you might think such a thing. I am no creature of death! As you can see, I live and I move. Red blood flows in my veins; I know thirst, I know hunger. I can speak your words, walk upon two legs, and fight with two arms. This is what it means to live.

“The dead are cold and lie beneath the ground without moving, and when by sorcery they do move, they need neither food nor drink. They do not raise swords to fight, but breathe foul vapors that bring disease, or turn their enemies to stone. Do I seem a demon to your eyes? Do I seem such an unholy creature? I eat, like you, and wield a blade to cut my foes. I do not use some demon-spell to rot their flesh.

“Yes, I came from the desert, but I was not born there, and it is not the Land of the Dead, as you say. You know the Sem, and other living things that thrive in those sands. The desert dunes are not entirely unlike your mountain home. How can you call it the Land—”

“Kah!” One of the Lagon stood. He was a young warrior, about the same height and build as Guin. He spoke with barely restrained excitement. “He claims the word of lagon is a lie! The desert is the Land of the Dead. Even a child of three knows the Sem and the yidoh, and the sandworms, are demons in a land of decay. He profanes Aqrra! Make your judgment, and have him hung on the end of a spear.”

A great chorus of agreement rose up, yet Guin could hear there were some dissenters. Still, it was a failure. Without knowing it, he seemed to have stepped over the line and profaned a Lagon taboo.

“Wait!” he shouted above the rising swell of the crowd. “I have not finished my explanation! If the Lagon are fair and honor their laws, then you must not pass judgment before you hear all I have to say—is this not so, Kah the Wise?”

“The Warrior with the Head of a Beast is correct.”

The six-fingered sage lifted his malformed hand slowly, speaking in a steady voice. “Continue your explanation. Ran, you will hold your tongue until he is finished.”

Guin bowed to the sage in thanks. Then he continued, testing each word gingerly, as though stepping on thin ice across a rushing stream. “Yes, I came through the desert. Yet this was only because there was no other way to reach your village. I fought with many creatures in those sands. Isn’t the fact that I passed through this ‘Land of the Dead’ and remained a living being proof that I am not a demon? You look at me, at my head, and call me a demon from the desert. Yet, just as I crossed through the sands but was not born there, so too I wear this head though I was not born with it. It was a curse that made me as I am today. Beneath this head of a beast… is a face like yours.

Now, as for the other accusation—that I am a thief come to steal your salt. Never before have I visited your mountain home. I came to speak with you, and your wise leaders. Yet I did not know exactly where the Lagon village lay, nor did I know the ways of your people. I did not know the white salt was precious to you, nor did I know that placing it in my provision-bag was a sin, for no one had ever told me this. Had I known, I would never have done something so foolish as to profane that which is sacred to the Lagon. I explained this to the ones who seized me, and I gave them the salt I had put in my bag. You will know this is true if you speak to the warriors who captured me.

“I regret from my heart that I broke a taboo of the Lagon, and I offer my apology. Yet I did it without knowledge of my sin. If breaking a taboo in ignorance is still a crime, then punish me—yet should not the punishment be different from that reserved for a crime committed in full knowledge?

“Think of this, too: were I truly a demon, it would have been a simple matter for me to bewitch those who found me with a spell, and leave the valley with your salt in secret. Yet I did not do this, but instead threw down my weapon, returned the salt, and was brought to your village to be thrown into prison.

“I did not choose to fight with the Lagon, because I want to be your friend. I have come here, braving many hardships in my journey, to ask for your mighty aid.

“How will you Lagon treat me now, knowing the truth I have told you—can you be as fair as you claim? Will you kill me without considering what I have to say? I leave that to your sense of justice.

“This is my explanation. I offer it before you, Kah the Wise, and all the fair people of the Lagon.”

Guin fell silent, and boldly looked around at the gathered wildlings. The effect of his words on his audience was clear. Throughout the crowd Lagon turned to each other, gauging their companions’ reactions, and began to whisper in hushed voices, seeking a unity of opinion. It appeared that Kah’s silencing of the young warrior early on had quieted the younger generation, leaving this decision in the hands of the elders.

Kah the Wise said nothing. He merely stared at the leopard-man from under his bushy brows for so long that even Guin began to worry. In silence the ancient wildling clasped his hands—Guin now saw that they both bore six fingers—together upon his lap, and sat still.

Guin was about to ask if some decision had been made when Kah’s voice cut him off. “Judgment will come after all has been heard. Now, Warrior with the Head of a Beast, let us hear how you intend to prove the most important words you have said: that you were sent here to lead the Lagon to the true path by Aqrra.”

“Well…” Guin began, then stopped.

“Have you no answer?” Kah demanded. “You said you were a messenger from Aqrra. Then let me ask: What is Aqrra? What is Aqrra’s form? Have you seen Aqrra? Show us proof you are a messenger.”

“Proof, proof!” the crowd chorused behind him.

Guin felt cold sweat trickle down his back. He had not anticipated standing here under the pale wildland moon to be asked questions about the wildlings’ religion. He searched his patchwork memory for anything that might help, but came up with nothing. Guin shook his head, unsure of how to reply.

“Aqrra is everywhere,” he said at last, feeling much like a small craft setting out to sea in the middle of a storm. At the mercy of the waves, he would paddle for all he was worth. “Aqrra is known by many names. As the Lagon know him by one name, I know him by another. None can know where Aqrra resides, for he is everywhere, and nowhere. No man has met Aqrra, for no man may stand in his presence.”

“Indeed,” Kah the Wise replied, quite unexpectedly. “Continue.”

“There are none who can describe Aqrra’s form, for none are able to see him. Yet he exists above us all—he is the creator of all.”

“Enough!”

Again, Dodok the Brave’s voice boomed above the gathering. His tone bespoke terrific rage. The leopard-man fell silent immediately. He had tried to keep his descriptions so vague they couldn’t possibly be faulted, but perhaps he had said too much.

Dodok the Brave rose to stand on the broad seat of his stone chair. The hard lines of his face shone wetly in the moonlight, his features twisted with fury.

“Enough! This beast-man is no messenger of Aqrra. He knows nothing of Aqrra at all. All his words are blasphemy, all that passes through his lips. Aqrra is not as he says. Aqrra can be seen with the eye. Aqrra is not everywhere and nowhere. Aqrra is where it is. Do we not say that if it is lost, the Lagon will be destroyed? He says Aqrra has a different name. But Aqrra is only Aqrra. Why? Because none other than lagon know Aqrra, The beast-head lies! He says the creatures of the outside world know Aqrra. He claims to have come on Aqrra’s orders, to proclaim Aqrra’s will. Yet he does not know Aqrra! I will not hear another of his lies! Kill him, kill him, kill him! Do any contest the judgment of Kah the Wise and Dodok the Brave?”

“None, none, none!” rose shouts from the crowd.

“Kah will give his blessings to Dodok!”

“Kill the beast-head!”

“Kill him!”

The shouts of the crowd echoed off the heights of the mountains around them, drowning out the far-off crying of the wolves.

“Kill him!” Dodok howled.

Guin’s thoughts dissolved in bleak dismay. Apparently, this Aqrra was not a person, nor a god, but some sort of object. Something was tugging at the back of Guin’s mind, but he didn’t have time to pay it any attention.

“Kill, kill, kill, kill!”

“Kill the demon!”

All around the clearing, the hirsute giants stood and thrust clenched fists into the air. Guin knew the situation was grim, perhaps the worst he had ever faced. Yet, a thin shred of hope remained.

Kah had not yet added his voice to the cacophony. However, the wizened elder didn’t seem particularly interested in stopping it, either. His eyes were closed to mere slits, and he sat with hands clenched, as though in a trance.

“Rip him apart! Rip him!”

The crowd was hungry for blood.

“Kill, kill, kill!”

No good, thought Guin, giving up on any hope of a rescue from Kah. It was beginning to look like his only way out might be to fight his way to freedom. He took stock of the crowd. To his dismay, the numbers had grown since he arrived. There might well be a thousand Lagon around him, each one of them near his height if not considerably larger.

Another strategy suggested itself. If I can take Kah the Wise as a hostage… Guin tensed every muscle, preparing to duck past the stone-tipped spears of the guards and charge the leaders’ chairs.

“But he said he could defeat Dodok the Brave!” came a sharp high voice from the crowd.

“Rhana!” came the hushing of a parent. “Mind your tongue.”

“But the leopard-head said he was strong!” the child Rhana went on, undaunted. “Stronger than Dodok the Brave. He said he came to show to everyone, he is the true Brave. Why do they not fight?”

A complete silence settled suddenly over the crowd, different from the one Kah the Wise had called for earlier. It was a silence rigid with fear, and apprehension.

“Rhana!” the Lagon that must have been Rhana’s mother shouted in a horrified voice. Guin scanned the crowd, finally spotting his little friend standing amidst a group of Lagon to the left of Dodok. Her round eyes stared at Guin unblinking.

“He is short,” she said. “How can he be stronger than Dodok? Why will Dodok not fight him?”

“It is because Dodok is afraid of me!” Guin declared, seizing the opportunity. “Lagon! Braves of Lagon! Dodok would kill me without a fair trial, without even a fair fight!”

“Silence, demon!” Dodok roared, leaping down from his chair with a spasm of rage. His face was flushed with fury. “Who is afraid of a runt such as you? The Lagon are fair! You are a demon! You were brought here to explain yourself, not to fight. The Lagon will not fight demons!”

“The Lagon will not fight, or Dodok will not fight?” Guin challenged. “The Lagon are a brave, true people. But their leader Dodok is a coward. He is afraid to fight me. Why? It is because he knows that if he fights me, he will no longer be the strongest!”

A communal gasp rose from the crowd. The air stank of fear and sweat.

Dodok took a slow step forward. He was no longer shouting, though the rage boiled behind his clenched teeth, a far more terrifying sight than his outburst a moment before. He loomed, nearly three taal high, looking down at the leopard-headed warrior before him.

“Now you would shame me, lagon with the head of a beast?” Dodok asked, his voice trembling with the eerie quiet that comes just before an explosion. “Shame me without a challenge, and I may kill you. Or adhere to the code, and challenge me, for the chance to prove your words are true.”

It was an easy choice. “I challenge Dodok the Brave,” Guin replied immediately. As one, the Lagon held their breath. Before them all, Guin had challenged Dodok the Brave, strongest of all the braves, twice as formidable as himself. Many shook their heads, assuming that, in his fear, their strange captive had gone mad. Guin continued. “However, I do not know the rules of combat among your people. I would have you teach me. I would challenge Dodok.”

“Good!” Dodok howled.” I accept your challenge! On the honor of Dodok the Brave, I will rend you to pieces!”

Then abruptly he fell silent and turned to Kah the Wise, as though awaiting a final permission. Guin made note that of the two chiefs, the Wise stood above the Brave.

Kah the Wise was lost in thought behind half-lowered lids, yet after a moment he widened his eyes and spoke to the silent crowd.

“Very well. Our purpose here is changed. Dodok the Brave will fight the Warrior with the Head of a Beast. If Dodok wins, Guin shall die. Should Guin prevail, we will consider his claim to be true, that he is a messenger from Aqrra.”

Guin was impressed. It was a keen political move. With those words, Kah the Wise had managed to ensure that even if Dodok should lose, the Lagon would lose nothing.

“Are there any objections?” Kah asked, slowly turning his head to scan the crowd. Dodok and Guin eyed each other silently.

All at once the angry energy of the Lagon rushed away like a tide, replaced by excitement for the spectacle that was to come. It was clear that the giant wildlings loved nothing more than watching a good fight, and tonight would be a show to remember.

“Prepare yourselves,” Kah the Wise ordered. “This ground will know combat before the rising of the sun.”

Dodok the Brave stretched to his full height and sauntered into the clearing, where he turned to look again at his challenger. His eyes were filled with anger and disdain, shot through with a cruel joy at the slaughter to come.

Guin wordlessly returned his gaze. At last—for the time being, at least—things were going as he had hoped. Now all he had to do was defeat Dodok and convince the Lagon to listen to him.

Above his head, the moon shone with a cold light, illuminating the stone buildings and the ample-haired creatures that filled the streets between them. Only three or four twists of the sand-clock remained until dawn.