Initiation Rites: The Bones of the Earth-Part 1: Page 5
By afternoon, Javor was panicking with every step as they crept along a ledge narrower than his shoulders. The ledge was covered with a thin layer of tiny pebbles, and each footfall slid and crunched and pushed a puff of dust over the edge.
Cliffs rose almost straight up on their left and dropped so far on the right that Javor felt dizzy if he looked over. It did not seem to bother Photius, though, who walked carefully but steadily forward and up.
There was no sound but the wind. Above, the sky roiled with gray clouds. Clouds don’t move like that, Javor thought. He pictured rocks falling from the top of the cliff, crushing them or hurling them down the slope to be smashed against yet other rocks.
“How do you know where we’re going?” Javor asked when they paused. The sun was getting lower, sinking behind his shoulders. He hadn’t seen a footprint or a trace of any living thing since the cold-drake.
“There are signs for those who know how to see them,” the old man answered. Javor was getting tired of Photius’ enigmatic statements. Why was he in this part of the country, anyway, and why did he arrive just at the same time as this monster?
“Do you have a plan, Photius? You said the more we know of this monster, the better we can find its weaknesses. What do you know? When we find this monster, do you have any idea of what to do then?”
The old man smiled a little. “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever ask, Javor. Well, this monster appears to live in a desolate place, so that means it doesn’t need to eat very often. A human or two every few weeks seems to suffice.
“Also, with all these rocks about, it must have a tough hide. So probably your father’s little hatchet there won’t even cut it.”
“Then why did you bring me here? What’s the point of this chase, if I haven’t a hope of killing this monster!”
The old man seemed to smile, but with the sinking sun shining into his eyes, Javor couldn’t be sure. “You came here freely, Javor. Remember, I only came after you. The question is, why did you come?”
“You’re the one who’s tracking this monster! You’re leading me! And to what?” Javor screamed. “What do you want from me? Why have you brought me to this place?”
“For what you wanted, Javor,” said Photius, and still his voice was even and soft, gentle. “For revenge.”
Is this old man crazy? “How am I supposed to get revenge on a monster that can’t be hurt?” The old man’s calm was getting on his nerves. “How do I know that you don’t intend to have the monster kill me, too?”
Photius looked disappointed, not offended. “Now, Javor, do you really believe that I would go to all this trouble, walking for days in this desolate place, if all I wanted was merely to achieve your end? I think there would be easier ways to accomplish that.” He chuckled when Javor grasped the handle of his axe. “Now, Javor. Look at me, and then trust what your own heart tells you: do you believe that I intend you any harm?”
Javor looked at Photius, and somehow knew that he could trust the stranger, this old man from a far-off civilization, who seemed to know his thoughts before he did. He let go the axe.
“Come, Javor. We can’t stay perched on this narrow ledge. Besides, I don’t believe we have much farther to go.”
They scrambled with hands and feet up a slope that was slightly gentler only when compared to the cliffs they had passed. Javor’s fingertips were bleeding by the time they reached a small, flat area covered with loose stones. There was no going farther. Ahead, the cliff rose sheer again, straight up to a height Javor couldn’t guess at. Behind, getting darker already in the setting sunlight, Javor could see the country stretching out, rivers like ribbons, trees fading into meadows and pastures.
They put their packs down on the plateau. Where now?
Photius just stared at the rock wall. It seemed deeply scored, as if it had been raked by claws the size of oak trees. To one side, a thin stream fell from the shadowed heights above, falling with a tiny sound far below. Other than that and the wind whistling around the crags, the silence was complete. No bird sang, no insects buzzed. Javor couldn’t even bring himself to speak for fear of breaking the silence.
Photius lifted his arms over his head. He spoke in a strange language—not Greek, or not what Javor believed was Greek. It sounded, somehow, very old, ancient as the rocks in front of him. “Ad natha rim bach, al nath roh-on!” he cried. And then, among the cracks and striations on the rock wall, Javor saw a deep cleft. “Hey! Is that a cave there? Why didn’t I see that before?” He realized that he was whispering.
“Hush! I have opened the monster’s lair. It is within.” Photius put his hands on Javor’s shoulders and spoke more words in that ancient language. “I have put such spells of protection on us both as I know,” he said. “They may not do much against the monster’s claws or teeth, but against any foul magic here that may cloud our eyes or our minds or prevent us from entering, or worse, leaving, they should protect us for at least a short time. Now is the hour, my boy. Now is time for you to attempt your revenge. For this monster is not invincible, not immortal. It can be killed and sent back to the pit that spawned it, if the right man attempts it. Are you such a man?”
Javor’s knees felt weak, his stomach churned, even his testicles felt cold and vulnerable. I can’t do this. I’m not a warrior! The cave gaped like a beast’s maw, and for the first time, he believed the story of the monster that killed his parents and so many others in the village. Involuntarily, he took a step back. His hands shook.
But then he saw his father’s body across the threshold, his mother broken in front of her own oven. He lifted his axe.
“No, Javor. Not the axe. The old knife. Your great-grandfather’s knife.” Javor drew it from its sheath and looked again at the strange markings on it. They gleamed, catching the light of the sinking sun like running fire.
They heard a shriek from behind them. Javor spun to see a dark, winged something falling toward them from the sky, filling more and more of his vision. A saurian maw gaped to show long, terrifying teeth. “Dragon! Run!” shouted Photius, and together they flung themselves into the cave. Javor scraped his chin on the cave floor, and turned just in time to see a long, reptilian shape sweep past the entrance to the cave, screaming in rage and frustration.
“Was—was that it?” Javor panted. “The monster that killed my parents?”
“No,” Photius panted in reply. He was as shaken as Javor. “No, that was a dragon. They often live in mountains. I did not know there was a dragon in these parts. However, the monster that we seek is within this cave, so we had best keep our voices down.”
You are the one doing all the talking, old man.
The cave was narrow, so Javor went in front. The last of the dying daylight did not penetrate very deep, but a strange pale light came from the top of Photius’ walking staff. They could see the sides of the cave were wet, dripping with a foul-smelling moisture. “Do not touch the wall, Javor!” Photius warned. Javor tried to draw his shoulders in. His skin crawled when he thought of the liquid on the cave wall touching him.
There was a heat coming from within, and soon he was sweating. He could see a dull red glow ahead in the tunnel. A dark mist coiled about them.
The tunnel opened into a wide cavern, and the ceiling receded to a height Javor couldn’t guess at. The red light and the heat came from a gaping chasm at the far end. Strewn about the uneven floor were bones—human bones, and armour and weapons and coins that glimmered dully in the red light.
All this Javor took in within a second, for crouching in front of the chasm was the proof of the story: man-shaped, but far, far larger. It was hideous, covered in a dull grey, leathery hide. Its impossibly wide, pig-like mouth was chewing something. Glowing red eyes shadowed by a stony brow glared at him with an alien expression for less than a heartbeat, and then it was reaching for Javor, right in front of him, filling his field of vision, roaring so loudly that Javor’s ears hurt. Its claw slashed at his head. Without
thinking, Javor lunged forward, between the monster’s legs. The monster hit the cave wall and bits of rock flew in all directions.
Javor rolled and sprang up. If he had time to think, he would have been surprised to find his grandfather’s dagger was in his hand. The monster had Photius trapped against the wall. It seemed to be wary of his glowing staff, squinting against its light.
Javor screamed as fearsomely as he could and sprang forward, slashing the knife downward. He aimed at the monster’s back, but with agility surprising in such a large creature it twisted out of the way, and the knife bit into its arm. The monster roared again, a sound that froze Javor’s heart, and then with awful strength flung Javor across the cave. He rolled to the edge of the chasm. For a second, he felt as if he was going to tip over and plunge in; below was only a dull red light in a deeper blackness and a foul odour. He knew there was no bottom, only an endless drop that called to him; something in Javor’s mind yearned to lean over and fly into the chasm, to give himself to the infinite fall.
With a huge effort, Javor twisted away from the edge. He gripped his knife but the monster grabbed him in one huge claw and lifted him off the ground, pinning his right arm against his side. Its mouth opened, revealing row upon row of triangular teeth, and its hot breath stank.
Then Javor looked down, and saw that in its other claw the monster was holding the amulet—his amulet, the one his mother had inherited from her grandfather. But the monster’s grip tightened and drove all thought out of his mind. Javor struggled to breathe and his right arm felt as if it would break. The claws started to dig into his skin.
Javor’s focus narrowed to three brightly shining points: the monster holding him; the dagger clenched stubbornly in his trapped right hand; and the amulet in the monster’s left claw. Everything else faded, slipped back as if into a great distance.
That claw rose to maul him to pieces. Something in Javor’s mind called out, and he saw the amulet rise from the monster’s grip, as if it had jumped, and sail into his outstretched left hand.
The monster roared in anger and confusion. Javor felt a surge of strength from the amulet. The monster’s grip weakened and the claws no longer bit into him.
The fiend tried to bite Javor’s shoulder, but the horrible teeth were unable to break his skin. Its grip slipped and Javor tore his right arm free as he dropped to the ground. Once again the monster’s claws slashed down, but Javor dodged, jumped and stabbed. The knife sank deep into the monster’s neck and black blood spurted, hissing as it hit the rock. It roared again, angry and afraid, but now its hands held its neck.
A wide sweep of its arm knocked Javor across the cave. The amulet flew off to his left, while the dagger skittered across the cave floor to his right. The monster saw them fly and its eyes flared red. Black blood spurting from its neck, it rushed Javor again. He scrambled back, but the hideous claw drew a bright red line all the way down his thigh.
The pain burned so intensely that Javor could not scream. His mouth opened but he could not breathe, and all he could see was blankness. Somehow, he pushed backward and slid across the cave, barely out of the monster’s grasp.
“Javor!” Photius called as he kicked the amulet to him. The old man ran forward and smacked the monster as hard as he could with his glowing walking stick. The monster staggered as Photius lifted his staff. Bright blue sparks flew from its tip. The monster blinked, flinched, hesitated for the briefest moment, then backhanded Photius. He flew across the cavern and his staff flew the other way. The blue light nearly died out. The monster picked up Photius as if he were a doll and shook him back and forth.
Those few seconds were enough for Javor to find his amulet. He felt a rush of strength moving up from his hand. He pushed the searing pain in his thigh out of his mind and ran as fast as he could for the dagger.
The monster saw Javor and swatted one huge hand down on Javor’s head. Javor fell to the ground, sending a fresh, unbelievable jolt of pain up from his thigh. The only thing he could think was Hold onto the amulet.
He could hear the monster coming closer, could feel its breath on his back, but he could see only blackness. Then he felt the dagger’s fish-shaped handle find its way into his palm. He rolled, slashing the dagger upward and kept rolling to dodge the thing’s entrails spilling onto the ground.
The monster fell to its knees. Though mortally wounded, it would not stop. It flailed its arms as if trying to swat Javor, to squish him like a fly. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Javor stood and brought the dagger down like he was chopping wood. He felt it dig into something and kept pushing it until the monster’s arm fell, severed, to the stony floor.
The monster screamed, but there was no more power in its voice. Javor gripped the amulet in his left palm and straightened. Holding the dagger in both hands, he brought the blade down as hard as he could into the monster’s head. The dagger bit deep and extinguished the red glow in the monster’s eyes. It slumped forward, limp on the ground and did not move any more.
Javor stood looking at the beast for a long time. The only sound he could hear was his own panting. Photius staggered to his side and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“You’ve done it, boy!” he panted. His voice was hoarse. “You’ve destroyed the scourge of Dacia, the bane of many fine warriors who have tried. And you have achieved your revenge.”
Javor didn’t answer. His mind whirled. He saw the monster lying at his feet, and his parents’ bodies in their own home. He didn’t even know how he felt, himself. Should he laugh or cry, or howl in triumph? He didn’t feel triumphant. He felt —
“Owwww,” came a low groan from his throat.
Photius crouched, holding his blue-glowing staff next to Javor’s thigh. Carefully, he pulled the ripped cloth away and frowned. “Well, it could have been worse. Much worse. I can help it, but I’ll need water. We’ll have to get out of here quickly.”
He asked Javor to hold the glowing staff and, using Javor’s small axe, hacked off all eight of the monster’s claws one by one, dropping them into a bag. Javor’s stomach squirmed as Photius picked up the severed arm and arranged it on the ground to make chopping the claws easier. Then he pulled the head around and, to Javor’s great disgust, used pliers to pull out two of its teeth.
“What are you doing?”
“A demon’s claws and teeth contain powerful magic, Javor,” Photius answered without looking up. “And power like that can be very useful if one has the knowledge.”
“Is that why you brought me here—to kill the monster so you can get its magic?”
Photius still didn’t look up. “Remember, boy, I didn’t bring you here. You came of your own accord, seeking revenge. And you’ve succeeded. I would not have predicted that.” He took back the staff and poked through the debris on the floor. “Well, this monster has been here for some time. Less than a century, though.” He stooped, picked up a handful of gold and silver coins, and dropped them into a pouch tied at his waist.
“Well, well, look at this, here.” He brought a long sword in a metal scabbard to Javor. Photius looped one of its two belts around Javor’s waist, and the other over his shoulder. In the bluish light of Photius’ staff, Javor could see that the scabbard was decorated with triangular patterns. He drew the sword and saw more triangles and some spiral patterns. He thought looked similar to the markings on his dagger. More runes? Somehow, the sword felt good buckled on.
Photius gathered more gear from the debris of other warriors who had tried and failed to kill the monster. He buckled a short sword around his own waist, and took a helmet for Javor.
Javor took a a few treasures for himself: a metal wristlet with jewels worked into it, a necklace and some coins. He put his grandfather’s knife in its sheath on the sword-belt on his right hip, and tried the helmet for size. A little loose, but not bad. The visor would take some getting used to, he thought. The throbbing in his thigh would not stop.
A sudden shriek: above them, a shadow darker than t
he gloom of the cavern’s heights fell. In less than a second it was upon them, the winged dragon from the slope outside. Photius threw himself face-down on the cavern floor, but Javor held his hands up, foolishly trying to ward off the danger. Somehow, the amulet was again in his left hand. At the last instant, the dragon swooped up again, shrieking angrily, and disappeared, impossibly, Javor thought, down the narrow tunnel.
A rumble came from deep below their feet and a fume came out of the glowing chasm. The cave seemed to shake. “We had better get out of this cave,” said Photius. “But first, we must return this monster to the depths it came from. Come, help me push!” He put his hands against the monster’s mutilated shoulder. Javor started pushing on the legs and felt pain stabbing up from his thigh through his whole body. Somehow, they heaved the monster’s carcass toward the chasm. With one final push, the body went over the edge and fell down, down, down until they could no longer see it. They heard no sound of it hitting bottom, no splash. Photius tossed the severed arm after the body and it, too, disappeared into the shadows.
The whole mountain began shaking. Noise, fumes and flames leapt out of the chasm. Photius grabbed Javor’s arm and pushed him into the tunnel, yelling “Run!” They ran as fast as they could for the surface, not daring to look back at flames and molten rock leaping out of the chasm.
With a dash and a roll, they reached the open air just as a violent wrenching of the ground knocked them down. Javor scrambled to his feet, but Photius could not find his footing with the mountainside crumbling beneath him. Javor helped him up, then snatched their packs. Together, they slid down the steep slope as the cave entrance collapsed into a ruin of tumbled rock.
Finally, they came to a stop at a relatively flat spot, scattered with stones as big as Javor’s head. “Well done, my boy, well done,” Photius coughed. “Maybe we shouldn’t have rolled the monster into the chasm, after all. Still, how was I to know? Ah, well—next time.”
“Next time for what?” Javor demanded.
“Next time I find a dead monster.” He straightened his clothing, pulled his pack onto his shoulders, picked up his staff, pulled his hood over his head and started back down the long path. “It’s getting late, but we’d best get as far down this mountain as we can before it’s too dark to go any farther. It’s still an evil place. Come, Javor.”
“What about the dragon?”
“It seemed scared off by your amulet, my boy. At any rate, we’ll have to take our chances, and we need some water to tend to your wound. I don’t fancy sitting on this mountain all night long.”
They stumbled down the mountain through the deepening darkness. Soon the nearly full moon rose, and in its pale light they managed to find a relatively flat area. “See if you can build a fire,” Photius suggested. He put down his pack and pulled out little sacks and a wooden bowl. He started mixing powders and water from a skin into a strange-smelling paste in the bowl, while Javor limped to find firewood.
When he had gathered a small amount of dead wood, he realized he had no way to start a fire. Photius poked the tip of his long walking staff into the midst of the wood and a bit of smoke rose. Soon, a campfire was burning, merry in its own way in that wasteland.
Photius rubbed the paste onto the wound, as gently as he could. “I’m sorry, my boy, it’s the best I can do out here,” he said as Javor flinched and gasped. But when the old man was done, Javor was surprised that his leg actually felt better.
So he let his frustration out. “Don’t give me any more round-about answers. How long have you been searching for this monster?”
Photius allowed his staff to dim, and the night closed around them. “Very well, I’ll tell you what I can.
“I have been searching for quite a long time, following tales and rumours of evil and destruction. This monster, whose name is Ghastog—at least, that’s what my order has called it for over a century—has destroyed many villages and towns, and burned down a substantial portion of a city in Greece, too. For the past decade, it has travelled about Dacia and Sarmatia, taking life where it wants, and it has also wandered far from here at times. During that time, it gathered other evil forms to it, like the cold-drake you killed yesterday.
“Two monsters in two days! What a warrior you have turned out to be, Javor!”
“Never mind that, old man. Tell me what you are doing here now!”
Photius sighed and gazed into the fire. “My mission was to find the monster and find also a warrior fit to destroy it and all its foul brood. For it was more than wild and wanton, Javor. It was purely evil. Look about you: it exuded an evil spell that sickened, weakened and killed, sooner or later, anything in its vicinity. That’s why there is nothing living around here, save other evil creatures like it, and they spread around devouring what they need to live, and so their circle of evil spreads.
“Creatures like Ghastog are old, Javor, old. Many centuries of centuries, older than you can guess. They may be older than the world we live in. They hate humanity, and fear us and are bent on destroying us.
“For over a century now, their numbers have been increasing alarmingly. They seem to come from some source far in the east, in farthest Asia or the legendary islands beyond it. There is great evil coming from the east, Javor: pestilences and foul airs. That is why Rome has been overrun by wild barbarians from across the steppe lands—they are running from others who are themselves running from the evil that seems to have vomited from the doors of Hell itself. And that’s not all: the seas are rising. Whole coastlines around the Euxine Sea have been submerged, villages and towns drowned. It is as though the Earth itself was striving to destroy the human race.”
Javor shivered and leaned closer to the fire. “How do you know all this?”
“I belong to an order of scholars and priests from many lands. We have many different beliefs, worship different gods, but we have drawn together to try to avert this threat to civilization, to humanity. We seek the Answer to the riddle of the nature of the world and these plagues and how we might destroy them forever. We are working together, as well as we might, to gather knowledge of these calamities, to share it and to fight them. We search for heroes, for dragon-slayers and monster-killers to remove this evil spawn—heroes like you, Javor.”
“I told you, I’m no warrior!”
Photius smiled. “I have seen evidence to the contrary. Look at yourself—with no training and virtually no weapons, you just destroyed two monsters. A few days ago, you armed yourself with a knife and a farmer’s axe and set off fearlessly to rescue two girls from a gang of thugs. Those are warrior traits, as I see it.”
But Javor didn’t feel like a warrior. He realized how tired he was, how his whole body ached and how hungry he felt. He lay back against a rock, tried to get comfortable and soon fell asleep.