The Last of the Etela, Chapter 8

or, 'An Angry Man in the Road, Covered in Blood.'

Previously on THE SHIELDBREAKER SAGA… Kareva killed a guy (Wow, that escalated quickly!), then corralled all his warriors for what was almost certainly a suicide mission, including those who betrayed his father six years ago. They (almost) all got to Valtaa, where (almost) the entire Pohyor horde met them for battle, and after two rounds of fighting and some strategic adjustments, it looks like things are about to get crazy.

But before we do that…also previously on Shieldbreaker… every last Etela noncombatant went west through the desert in search of refuge in an ancient city hundreds of miles away...

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The sand-route to Makan Alabar, as far as Kulava ul-Katuz had ever heard from the elders in his tribe, was more a general set of directions than an exact route: if you wanted to get to Makan Alabar, you were supposed to go out into the desert, walk towards the setting sun until you reached the sea, and then turn left. Eventually, you would find it.

No one had ever given him any more specifics than that. In fact, none of the living members of the Khivir had ever ventured that far south and returned. Kulava was starting to understand why so few bothered to try. It was easier to entrust your goods to a traveling merchant, pay him his percentage and let him come back with your end of whatever you were selling. For one who wasn’t already familiar with the wasteland below the Vesret Pass, the journey wasn’t worth it.

There was sand in everything. Not that that was a surprise, but it was weighing everyone and everything down. It was in every piece of cloth, in every bite of food, between every pair of toes. It was settling in the bottom of the water skins by now, except for those precious few that hadn’t been opened yet—and that number was dwindling.

Was there a more specific set of instructions he could have asked for? Were there sign posts to look out for somewhere out here, left by past Hodrir trading missions?

It didn’t matter now.

They’d spent most of their nights on the move, waiting until an hour or two before sunset so that they were reminded exactly which way was west, and then walking into the sunset until it fell and holding their line as straight as they could afterwards until the sun came up behind them again. Then they rested, sheltering from the sun, and praying for the wind to stay calm.

Which was a bit of a double-edged sword. That there had been no sandstorms was a relief, to be sure, but if the enemy were following them, the clear weather would make them utterly impossible to miss. They were probably impossible to miss anyway—three or four thousand souls wandering (well, maybe not wandering, but certainly not marching efficiently) through the desert.

And they were moving far, far too slowly. They’d only finally lost sight of the Pass on their right two days ago. The massive number of older women and children in the convoy made marching at a regular pace all but impossible, which he and Alakuz had reckoned with when they planned the journey but had not given quite enough weight to. Then they’d lost an extra half day when one of the carts carrying food and water broke an axle. Plus, the older segment of the population weren’t doing well out in the wilderness, so they’d lost countless hours treating injuries after falls, treating illnesses, not to mention stopping for three funerals...

And that was all well and good, but the simple fact remained: they had been out here for thirteen days already. And the more time they were out here, the less likely they were to make it to Makan Alabar alive.

If the enemy were following them, they were frittering away the head start they’d gotten. And even if they weren’t being followed, there was a limit on supplies, and it was difficult to tell a mother that her children could only have their exact portion of food or water for the day when there were “whole entire carts” of food and water in full view.

He’d found that out personally. He didn’t want to imagine how those conversations were going to go when they had to start cutting rations in half.

Kulava couldn’t think about that. He had to keep calm, focus on getting to the sea and turning left, and hope that the things he couldn’t control wouldn’t catch up with him and his massive, vulnerable caravan.

—

At first, Alini didn’t understand.

That whole first day and night of traveling—a grueling eighteen-hour marching day that Kulava-Ohta had insisted upon to get some immediate distance between them and Kalaa Ukruv'r—many of the women and children who saw her as she and her sisters made their rounds to distribute food and water bowed before her.

A few called her “Priestess” instead of “Sister.” An honest mistake.

It was not until one of her sisters addressed her that way that she stopped to ask what was going on.

Madili was taken aback. “Did you not know? You answered Rakili’s call to serve her. You helped her on her way to the gods. You must take her place.”

Alini was stunned. “Why didn’t someone else—one of the Sisters with more experience—Uskoli, or Edrini, maybe...how come nobody else stepped forward?”

“It is a powerful, painful thing to take responsibility for sacrificing the woman who led us. No one else stepped forward because no one else was more eager to help Rakili than they were to protect themselves from that pain. The gods chose you, Priestess. We are at your service.”

Which was mad, as far as she was concerned. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she did, at the very least, understand what she had to do. Rakili had taught her that their purpose was to keep everyone around them calm in times of trouble, and spend the times in between reflecting on the gods’ will.

The thing to remember, Rakili had once whispered to her with a sly smile, was that the times in between were practically non-existent.

It had struck Alini as hilarious in the moment: she had even giggled, and Rakili had chuckled as well. But now, when she thought back on the last several years, she could not remember a moment when the tribe was not in crisis.

Which meant that this crisis, in particular, was not anything special. The order’s responsibility had not changed. Their duty was to help anyone who was afraid feel less afraid. And there were plenty of people out here who needed them. There was not much time for Alini to rest. And that was a mercy, because whenever she closed her eyes, or even stopped to relax for a moment, she heard the word strike, saw Rakili’s face as she plunged the knife in, watched her die again.

So she spent every minute she could helping people stay calm.

She’d commended three souls to the gods, comforted the families of the departed, helped the soldiers distribute food and water before the march began each night and when it ended each day. And she’d made herself and her Sisters available to anyone who needed counsel.

Like the mother and toddler she found brought before her now. The girl had spent most of the past week slipping back and forth between outright, screaming panic and terrified silence.

“She cries and screams, Priestess. I can’t get her to stop. I don’t know how to make her feel better.”

Alini crouched down next to the child. She was sitting in the sand, hugging herself tightly and rocking back and forth with her eyes squeezed shut. She reached to put a hand on her shoulder, and stopped herself. The girl’s eyes were shut. No need to startle her any further.

“Hello, sweet girl.”

The child’s eyes opened and she stopped rocking, though she kept her arms wrapped around herself. She didn’t say anything.

“My name is Alini. What is your name?”

“Her—her name is Iuditi, Priestess,” stammered the girl’s mother from behind her.

Alini turned back to the mother and smiled. “It’s alright. She can tell me.” She turned to Iuditi. “Is your name Iuditi?”

The little girl nodded.

“I love that name. It’s so pretty.”

A hint of a smile came over Iuditi’s face.

“And how old are you?”

After some slight hesitation, Iuditi held up four fingers, keeping her thumb close to her palm. Alini smiled to encourage her. She still hadn’t spoken a word, but at least she was interacting. It was a start.

“Your mother tells me something is scaring you.”

The hint of smile disappeared, replaced by a trembling lip.

“It’s alright. Would you like to tell me what it is? Maybe I can help.”

The lip trembled more, and a few tears appeared in the corners of Iuditi’s eyes.

“The…m-man in the, in the road…”

She squeezed her tiny self a little more tightly.

Alini patted her head. “It’s alright. You’re doing very well. What man?”

“The man in the road…he smelled bad…and his face was scary…”

Alini turned back to the mother with a concerned look on her face. “When did this start? Could one of Kulava’s men have—”

“Oh, no! No. I haven’t let her out of my sight since the day Varyta-Kogon died. Even skipped the funeral. And we haven’t crossed paths with any of the soldiers.”

“He was so…angry.”

They both turned back to the child. Iuditi’s eyes were open, and she was crying, but she wasn’t screaming or shaking. Alini smiled at her again. “I’m really sorry the man scared you. Can I give you a hug?”

Iuditi looked up at her mother, uncertain. Her mother nodded. “It’s okay, my love. She’s our new friend.”

Iuditi haltingly nodded. Alini wrapped her arms around her, and Iuditi cried harder, and Alini soothed her. When she started to calm down, Alini moved to pull away, and Iuditi pulled her in closer.

“Sorry, Priestess, I don’t mean for us to take too much of your time…”

“It’s perfectly all right,” Alini reassured her. “Iuditi, we have to keep walking now. Would you like me to carry you for a little while?”

From within her arms, she felt the little girl nod.

After an hour, when she fell asleep, Alini passed Iuditi back to her grateful mother. “Please ask any of the Sisters to find me if you need me again.”

“Thank you, Priestess.”

“I’m so sorry, what is your name? I should have asked before.”

“Oh! Not at all. It never even crossed my mind to tell you. When your child is acting strangely, it’s all you can think about…my name is Variti.”

“I am honored to meet you, Variti. Please come find me again if I can help.”

“You’re a blessing, Priestess. May the gods go with you.”

“And with all of us.”

She stopped for a moment to let mother and daughter walk on, unsettled by the exchange, wondering who the angry man in the road was who had scared that poor girl so badly.

Probably just a bad dream. She was becoming more and more familiar with those.

“Anything you require, Priestess?”

She looked to her left to see Madili had hurried to catch up to her in line. She smiled reassuringly at her, projecting calm.

“I’m alright, Sister. Thank you.”

—

Limani walked at the center of the massive throng of women and children with her son Tobiaz perched on her hip.

Tobiaz ul-Zamal.

It was a good name. He was a handsome boy, like his father. Zamal was still a boy himself, immature and unable to control his impulses—especially since he was good-looking and confident and fun to be around, and so attracted many other girls living in the Kuja Nesiir—and the idea of tying herself to him on any sort of permanent basis had never crossed her mind, even after she knew she was carrying a child.

He’d surprised her that night, showing up unannounced the way he did, calling out her name right on the street.

Taking her seriously.

He’d never done that before. It would have surprised her to find out he’d ever taken anything seriously before, other than training for battle, of course.

She found himself wondering whether he was still alive, and hoping against all reasonable hope that he’d make it through the battle they were fighting to the east of here—and maybe one day he’d come to Makan Alabar and find her again.

—

The man in the road was looking at Iuditi again.

She was in the crowd with all the other people. Mama was there too, but suddenly Iuditi had turned around and she was gone. She didn’t know the other people. They weren’t her friends. She was all alone. She needed to find Mama.

Then she turned back around and he was there.

He was dressed all in black, and he smelled so bad—like the smell that one time when she and Mama had passed by that man making meat. His clothes were dripping with the same mucky red water that the meat maker man had all over him.

And his face was the scariest of all. It had more red water on it, and he was breathing hard, and his eyes were wide open, and he looked so, so angry, like Mama got when the bad man tried to take her bag, and Iuditi knew he was going to make meat out of her, and she screamed.

Then she was in her mother’s arms again. She didn’t stop screaming.

—

Kulava and Boruz were walking a few paces behind the other Uskol’r taking their shift bringing up the rear of the column.

A few of the Hodrir kids were nearby, infuriatingly exuberant, practicing formation drills together with live steel “just in case.” Kulava hoped one of his men was with them; someone had to make sure they were doing it right, and that nobody dropped a weapon and lost a toe—or lost their temper and forgot they weren’t training with wood.

Kulava had enough to worry about already. He could do without any children dying from stupidity.

“You hear about the thing with that girl earlier?”

“What girl?”

“The little one, won’t stop screaming.”

Kulava didn’t respond, or even turn his head to show he was paying attention. He knew his cousin would keep going either way, passing along whatever second-hand news he’d gleaned from his wife and her friends among the refugees.

“She’s been screaming and crying the whole time we’ve been out here. Not just a tantrum, you know. Real fear. Anyway, the mother brings her to see the Priestess today, and the girl said something to the Priestess about seeing a man in the road. Little girl, mind you, maybe four years old? Liliti says a few of the women she’s been walking next to, they think she’s telling the future.”

Kulava looked at his cousin. He was paying attention now.

“The future?”

“Some people have the gift, you know. They think she’s one of them, that she’s too young to understand it properly.”

“And what do they think it means, this girl screaming about an angry man in the road?”

Boruz cocked an eyebrow and scoffed. “What do you think? They think it means we’re all doomed.”

Kulava grinned, almost relieved. He’d been expecting to hear something specific enough to actually worry about. “Oh, come on.” “I know.”

“I mean, I’ve heard stupider things. Just having a problem remembering where.”

“I don’t believe a word of it.”

They stood quietly again for a few minutes, listening to one of the older boys shout instructions to the rest of the children playing at soldier.

Then Boruz turned to his cousin again. He’d remembered something.

“He smelled bad.”

“What?”

“The girl said the man smelled bad.”

“We all smell bad! We’ve been walking through a fucking desert, haven’t we?” He paused for a second. “Could she be talking about one of us? Do you think any of the others are...I don’t know...I don’t even want to imagine...”

“No, Liliti’s friend said the girl’s mother told the Priestess that neither of them never laid eyes on any of us. Just some boogeyman that’s popped into her head, is all. An angry, smelly man in the road.”

“What road, is the follow-up question I’d have asked.”

“Right? Exactly what I said to her.”

—

The column would be stopping soon.

Alini could see the sand around her brightening with the sky and knew that it would be time to rest. She was dreading it. She was so tired, and so afraid of falling asleep, and of what would happen when she did. Keep moving. Keep making yourself useful. We are in a crisis, and your service is needed.

Her eyelids drooped and she snapped out of it, willing herself to keep moving forward, but then they drooped again and the sand rushed up to greet her.

“Priestess!”

She had not fallen. Not all the way.

Madili had caught her and was holding her up.

“Madili.”

“Are you alright, Alini?” The concern was plain in her friend’s eyes.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me by name since we left the fortress.”

“Forgive me.”

“No! No, it’s fine,” Alini said, laughing, and put her arm around Madili’s shoulders. She was so tired. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

Madili smiled widely for a moment, and then seemed to catch herself, to remember her place. “I am at your service, Priestess.”

The moment was over. Alini took her arm back and stood under her own power. “Did you need me for anything?”

“The woman with the screaming daughter is looking for you again. I can tell her you’re busy if you—”

“No.” Alini took a deep breath and gathered herself. “Tell them they can come to me when we’ve stopped for the morning.”

—

“Ohta!”

One of the men who’d been out front of the column appeared in front of Kulava. He’d been running. He bent over for a moment to catch his breath.

“What have you got for me, Usev ul-Emran?”

“There’s a big basin of sorts in the sand coming up ahead, just over the next dune. It’ll give us a little cover, make us a little less visible to anyone out there looking for us.”

“How steep an incline are we talking?”

“Steep enough that it’ll be...kind of a pain in the ass to climb out of this evening, to be honest, but...”

Kulava chuckled. “Yeah. That’s this evening’s problem. Lead us in, and let’s get ourselves some rest.”

—

When the column was all stopped within the basin, the food and water distributed, the tents all raised up, the Sisters went in search of Variti and her daughter.

Alini sat within her tent on one of the cushions they’d brought with them and arranged another one for her guests, then told Madili to send them in.

Iuditi was on her mother’s hip and clinging to her for dear life as she cried.

“Hello again!”

“Morning, Priestess. Sorry to disturb you again so soon, but—”

“It’s not any trouble. I told you to come to me if you needed me.” Alini turned to the child and put all her remaining energy into smiling with her voice. “Hello, Iuditi! Do you remember me?”

The little girl was looking over her mother’s shoulder, and turned around. Her face was tear-streaked and her eyes and nose were red and puffy. After a moment, she nodded.

“Are you feeling alright, sweet girl?”

Iuditi sniffled and shook her head. “Scared,” she said, when she’d recovered her voice.

“Of the man in the road?”

The little head bobbed forward a few times.

Variti broke in. “She was asleep in my arms on the path a couple hours ago, Priestess, and she woke up screaming and crying again. He’s haunting her dreams, too. I have no idea what to do for her. I’m at my wit’s end!”

I know the feeling, thought Alini, smiling sympathetically and nodding and begging her body to give her a little bit more energy so that she wouldn’t fall asleep while ministering to these poor girls and have to see herself plunge a knife into the heart of the woman she’d loved like a mother...and this poor girl was having nightmares, too...she snapped out of it when she realized Variti was still talking.

“...and then one of the women said she thought Iuditi might be seeing some sort of, I don’t know, prophecy? That a man smelling like death spelled a dark end for us all...”

Smelling like death? Iuditi hadn’t told her that the first time they talked. She’d just said he smelled bad. She held a hand up to gently interrupt Variti, who promptly stopped talking.

“Iuditi, my dear?”

The little girl nodded.

“How did the man smell?”

Iuditi trembled a little in response.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. I’m here to help you. I’m just trying to understand. Can you tell me what the man smelled like?”

“He smelled...bad. He smelled like...like the meat man.”

Meat man? A butcher? Like blood. She nodded. “And what did he look like?”

“He was...red all over.”

Alini looked up at the girl’s mother. “Did she tell you anything else?”

“That was it. That he smelled like...a butcher? That’s what she means, I think?”

“And red all over...” A man smelling like death and covered in blood. “And she didn’t say when this vision started?”

“She doesn’t know her days yet, Priestess.”

Alini took a moment to think, resting her head on her chin. If the little girl could see the future, that would be a first. Rakili had assayed a few people who thought they had the gift of foresight, and found all of them were “taking consistently inconsistent guesses, just like everyone else.” Her eyes fluttered for a second and then Rakili was dying in her arms and she could smell the blood again and she gasped.

Iuditi wailed and burst into fresh tears in response.

Alini was horrified at herself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” She looked up at Variti. “Forgive me. I’m so embarrassed. Long night of marching.” That was enough. She would make no further excuses for herself, and she certainly wouldn’t put the burden of her bad memories on this woman...

Her mouth fell open. That’s it.

“Iuditi?”

The little girl nodded, her start forgotten in the face of Alini’s surprised expression.

“Is the man here with us? Is he walking with us?”

The girl shook her head. “He’s back home.”

Variti’s hand went to her forehead. “Gods. I lost track of her for a second...”

Alini nodded. “You two were in the fortress when Kareva-Oproz killed the Pohyor envoy?”

“We were in the crowd. She was holding my hand, and I got jostled and lost my grip for a moment, and I couldn’t find her. There were a few rows of people between me and him. She must have gotten closer to him than I thought she had. Gods, how could I not have put that together before now?”

“No, no. Don’t put that burden on your shoulders, Variti. It has been a long couple of weeks for us all.”

Variti burst into sobs. “That—that must have been so—so awful— for her.” She hugged her child tightly. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

Alini scooted herself forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “Shhhh. It’s alright. Iuditi?”

“Uh huh?”

Alini forced herself to lift herself out of her sitting position and knelt in front of Iuditi and Variti. “It’s alright, my dear child.” That was what Rakili always used to call me. “You’ve got nothing more to fear from the angry man. He’s gone far, far away, and you won’t see him again.”

Iuditi looked up at her. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Variti pulled Alini into her arms as well, and the three of them held each other, rocking back and forth. Variti smiled through her tears.

—

“Thank you, Priestess.”

“You may call me Alini, if you like.”

“You honor me.”

“The Sisters and I are at your service. Please come see me again whenever you like.” She sighed, on the verge of tears herself. “But now, I really need some rest.”

Variti started laughing, and then so did Alini. Iuditi looked back and forth between them, looking a bit confused but with a little smile on her face.

When they were gone, Alini sat back down.

“Anything else you need, Priestess?”

“Some sleep, Madili. We all need some sleep. Tell all the girls they should rest today. We will have more to do on the march tonight.”

“Yes, Priestess. Sleep well.”

Alini lay down and closed her eyes and let her mind wander, finally taking a moment to do her second duty and ponder the will of the gods—and to feel a twinge of pity for Kareva, son of Varyta, all of nineteen and currently sacrificing himself to save all the people in this caravan, only to live on in so many of their memories as a wild-eyed monster, covered in blood.

Poor boy.

Then she fell asleep. She had no bad dreams.

—

Ulegu stopped to give his horse a rest.

He took a swig of water, swirling it around in his mouth to try to filter out any sand that might have found its way into his water skin. He was out a few hundred paces ahead of Lord Commander Regez and all of Lord Oreik’s retainers—he kept them separate in his mind to avoid conflating his Lord Commander with the louts he was leading on this errand in the desert—looking at the larger patterns of the desert sand.

In shifting sands like this, even a stiff breeze could erase footprints, animal tracks, wheel furrows, anything.

But the wind had not been able to mask his quarry’s progress. In fact, quite the opposite: there were so many of them that their combined weight had created a larger trail in the desert as they walked, a depression so wide that it was impossible to see directly under his feet—but also impossible to miss when he looked towards the horizon.

He softened his eyes, as he’d done the last three mornings as the sun came up behind him, and let them follow the massive furrow forward to where the tracks led over the next several dunes. He noticed this morning that a certain dune on the horizon line seemed to be particularly high, and he allowed himself to wonder to himself whether, if he were being hunted and knew which direction the hunters were coming from, he might not try to take advantage of such a disruption in their line of sight.

It was probably worth mentioning to Regez.

They had to be close by now. There was no way thousands of people unfit for battle could be moving quickly enough through these sands to evade a battalion of armed men on horseback.

He hopped down to the ground to give his horse a proper respite until everyone else caught up, wondering idly for a moment whether the barbarians even knew where they were heading, and deciding it didn’t matter.

—

Read the next chapter.

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