Through the Sands of Southern Deserts

by Slawomir Rapala

Table of Contents
Part 3 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

“Yeah, so? One of those beasts that Red Eye’s talking about must have come across our tracks and followed us.”

“A lion maybe?”

“Nah, I saw Hangman and Cat hanging from a tree, what sort of a lion would do that? Cut marks on their bodies, nooses tightly wrapped...One damned tree in the desert and he hung ’em there, the bastard...”

“I thought you said sand demons ate flesh, Red Eyes?”

“Maybe ate their brains through their ears, hell, I don’t know! No tracks around the tree, I don’t know! Never seen anything like this.”

“Been going on too long now.”

“Two months we’ve been running from a ghost, losing comrades along the way.”

“We got nowhere else to go, can’t leave the desert, y’know that.”

“They’d hang us in Oyan for sure.”

“We’d be lucky to get off with a lynching... The mob would tear us apart. Can’t go to Estrata either, too many merchants killed, they’d run us through just the same. No, we must stay in No Man’s, figure out how to get rid of this thing.”

“Get help maybe? I hear One-Patch is lurking on the border.”

“One-Patch doesn’t give a damn about us. He’d kill us all just for the hell of it, he’s worst than the whole lot of us put together, can’t trust the bastard.”

“We can split our share with him, bribe him to send some of his blokes over.”

“Are you stupid? He’d cut you up until you told him where we buried the goods and then leave you for dead. Or for our demon friend. No, that’s not an option.”

“Can’t trust anyone.”

“We got each other, gotta work with that.”

“So what do we do?”

“We gotta find this beastie, whatever it is, either kill it or run it off our land. No Man’s ours, we can’t just give it up.”

“Yeah, we have it golden here.”

“Couple more years of this and we can all retire, buy an island off the coast and live like kings for the rest of lives.”

“We gotta live through this first, y’know?”

“Don’t fret, Lynchie, we’ll get through this.”

“How?”

“For one, we don’t separate no more, this was the last time. I don’t care what you want to do, from now on until we figure this thing out, we stick together. Ain’t nothing in this world that can break us if we stick together.”

“Alright, I can do that.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that means no whores for the next few days, no visiting farmers’ daughters, either. We stick together, you hear?”

“I hear you, damn it!”

“Our life’s on the line and not just our life, but our livelihood! This thing scares us or runs us off No Man’s and we lose our stash.”

“I ain’t going nowhere.”

“Good. It’s agreed then. We stick together until this thing’s gone.”

“Or until it kills us all.”

“I’ll kill you myself, Slick, if you don’t stop your bull, y’know that? I’m getting sick and tired of your whining!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Alright, shut your traps, both of ya! No time for this nonsense. It’s getting late, I say we break camp like we said, sleep through the night and we’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”

They did as they said. And when they woke in the morning with the dawn of the sun, when they opened their eyes, each one waking the other in turn, they saw him standing before them, a lone and menacing shadow apart from others. They saw him as he was: tall and slim, his body wasted and scalded, his face burnt and scarred, but standing erect and proud, sword in hand, waiting patiently until all five of them were awake and staring wide-eyed at the image before them. The ghost and the demon united, a man seeking vengeance, their terrible and relentless pursuer who stalked them for months, killing them off one by one and seeping fear into their black hearts.

The cutthroats sprang forward, encouraging one another with shouts and laughter. One man, one man, that was all he was! Nothing more than a man, and one clearly close to death. Their swords sang as they rushed forward to meet him, their black hearts breathing a sigh of relief no longer burdened by a demonic image hunting them through the desert. One more moment, one more blow and they would send him back to the fiery grave from which he had emerged to stalk them.

But then they met his eyes. They burnt from with in the depths of his scorched face with an intensity that was unmatched by anything in the world, not even the dreadful sun of the No Man’s Desert. As soon as the wretches stirred into movement, his slim body hurled forward with the force of a hurricane, meeting them halfway with a terrible clash of steel.

Their cries and shouts were met with his ghostly silence. His breath was slow and deep as he struck once and then twice, gutting one man on the spot and turning to sink his long hunting knife into the throat of another. The two wretches gasped as they felt their arms lose strength and fall limp to their sides. Blood rushed into their mouths and their startled eyes turned up towards the morning sky, one last time searching the blue vastness for any sign of the gods, before the dark veil of death draped their vision and they collapsed to the ground with one final breath.

The demon already engaged his blade with another of the murderers and shifted his body to avoid two horrible blows that would cut him in half had they reached their target. Quicker and lighter than wind itself he moved between them, sliding beneath their blades as they sliced and cut through the air, delivering blows to the left and right with such might that the wretches’ hands trembled as they parried them. Their faces paled and sweat appeared on their foreheads whenever their eyes met the two burning coals hidden in his face. Soon they bled from tens of slashes and cuts that his lethal weapons delivered to them, while all the time, the demon seemed unharmed.

Their shouts and laughter faded and were replaced by their heavy breathing as the struggle went on. His tightly clenched teeth opened a little now and they saw the air itself ripple and wrinkle before him, so intense was the heat of his breath. They lurched forward once more, bringing at him everything they had, showering him with hundreds of strikes and blows, each of which he parried with ease, each of which he blocked so effortlessly that they felt like weaklings. He grew in their eyes, his giant shadow overwhelming and nearly devouring them, and the sheer force of his counterblows almost crushed them and drove them into the sand.

His eyes sharpened and fixed on the leader of the pack who stumbled to meet him, clumsily fumbling his sword and nearly dropping it to the ground. In the next moment his throat was slashed, torn open from ear to ear with such savage force that the two remaining thugs cried in fear. One turned to run but was stopped dead in his tracks when the demon hurled his knife after him with such precision that it struck at the base of his skull and dug deep into his brain, killing him instantly. The last of the cutthroats dropped to his knees and threw his sword to the ground.

“Mercy!” he screamed, tears running down his cheeks.

“No mercy! Vengeance!” the demon thundered. His voice seemed to rise from beneath the sand and it echoed through the silent world that was waking to the first rays of the rising sun. The thug’s face ashened when he saw the blade rising and then rushing to meet him. His world filled with a terrible roar that grew as the demon’ s sword neared him and then the sky collapsed over his head and the heavenly columns rained on his body, crushing him and quelling the last remaining spark of life...

* * *

A stranger came to the town of Tsua. That was an event in itself because hardly anyone came to the small Estratian town that lay on the outskirts of the desert kingdom, far away from any major city or trail. He was no ordinary stranger , though, and so everyone in town dropped what they were doing and rushed towards the house of merchant wife Bella, where the stranger halted his horse. A group of villagers gathered around him in silence, keeping a respectful distance and only gazing at the man with a mixture of awe and fear.

He was a tall and slim rider, whose age was difficult to tell because his face was covered with horrible burns that were only now beginning to heal, leaving behind even more horrific scars. The skin on his head was scalded and only a few hairs remained, growing here and there between the numerous patches of burnt tissue. The simple shirt and britches in which he was clad were tattered and torn in many places, exposing more burnt skin over his arms, chest and legs.

But the chest plate he wore seemed new and the light of the sun slid over it with joy, dancing through the maze of strange signs and symbols that covered it. The sword that hung loose by his side was sheathed, but even so, the villagers could see that it was heavily damaged; its jagged edges broke through the scabbard in several places. Badly scorched riding boots completed his outfit.

But despite the ghastly and corpse-like appearance, he held himself straight and his wasted body was seated firmly in the saddle atop a horse whose appearance was no less grim. The animal was clearly starved and ridden to the point of exhaustion, barely able to move forward through the scorched sands. It took a few more steps and then collapsed to the ground, breathing hard, raising clouds of dust with its fiery breath and trembling all over.

The rider managed to slide off the saddle in the last moment and planted his feet in the ground. No less fatigued than his steed, the stranger knelt beside it with a heavy sigh, and softly placed his hands on the animal’s head. The horse seemed to breathe with relief under its master’s touch, its body stopped trembling, and from then on it lay quietly. The stranger staggered to his feet.

“I’m looking for the merchant wife Bella!” his voice was low and hoarse when the words passed through his broken lips.

A woman hesitantly stepped forward from the crowd. Two small boys clung to her skirts as she made her way towards the stranger, looking back towards the villagers uneasily. She came closer but kept her distance, unsure as to the intentions of the ghostly rider. He, in the meantime, dug deep into the pockets of his britches and brought out a shiny round object which he then tossed in her direction. It landed at her feet with a soft thud, and she cried faintly, having recognized it immediately. She dropped to her knees and clutched the beloved ring along with a handful of sand. Tears ran down her cheeks when she held it before her eyes. Her body shook uncontrollably under the weight of despair that claimed her suddenly. The two boys moved away from their mother in fear as she jumped to her feet and ran towards the stranger screaming.

“Who are you?! Where did you get this?!” her fists beat against his scalded chest and the stranger nearly collapsed under the savage attack. A few men rushed forward and dragged her away from him. She struggled, crying and swearing at them, and they had to restrain her. Then she sat quietly on the ground, clutching the ring to her chest, tears streaking her broken face as she looked towards the sky for answers.

“He was a brave fellow,” the stranger said slowly, his voice breaking under the weight of fatigue and the pained body. “Died well.”

She fixed her eyes on him, piercing him with an intense and hateful gaze.

“I want vengeance!” she cried.

A shadow seemed to pass between them, but it happened so quickly that neither of them was sure as to what they saw. She thought she caught sight of a long pale face and a grim smile stretched over thinly carved lips.

“It is done,” the stranger said quietly.

Then the exhaustion and the pain finally overwhelmed him and he tumbled to the ground to lay beside his dying steed. The villagers rushed toward him with faint cries of surprise, surrounded him and, upon seeing that he still lived, they picked him up and carried him towards their huts. The blazing sun watched the entire scene from behind the safety of its heavenly windows, distanced and indifferent to human suffering...